#i am so sick and tired of going on dates with straight white men who feel the need to explain everything to you

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

feeling very grateful for the cute barista today who clearly clocked a) my fontaines d.c. tote, and b) the fact i was stuck on a spectacularly bad date, and proceeded to play me an entire playlist of fontaines d.c. and sneak me extra vegan marshmallows with my hot chocolate

[missakward123]

Can I get a kiss? (And can you make it last forever?)

Gojo Satoru x reader, kento nanami x reader, Sukuna x reader

Jjk men reacting to you asking for a kiss when they are inside you/ or eating you out.

Warnings: P in V, no protection (wrap it before you tap it guys), Oral (f recieving), edging, overstim, spitting, degradation kink

A/N: I was bored. Hope you liked it! I literally was just listening to the song when i got inspo!! this has been sitting in my drafts like foreverrrr. (Stealing and modification of work is prohibited.)

Gojo Satoru:

To be honest with his clingy ass the better question is when he does not want kisses? But the need is even more when he puts his inches inside you watching as you struggle to take him-his sweet girl. But it's you who asks first (for once) because you need him in a way if you don't you will die, sort of.

"Mmmm h-harder toru' " You moan as you finally adjust to his size.

"Harder? didn't you tell me to go easy this time?" He snickers as he starts thrusting- white hair messy with sweat resting on his forehead and blue eyes focused on you.

You moan in response, c'mon with a dick that big you let him have the last word sometimes.

"F-fvk that your best?" You say biting your lip. Over the years you have known Satoru riling him up is the best way to get what you wanted but in this case? - god you really love digging your own grave don't you?

Satoru narrows his eyes and puts your one leg over his shoulder.

Uh-oh.

There is nothing but the sound of skin slapping against one another, your pussy squelching so obscenely around him.

"Ya hear that doll?" He says whispering in your ear.

"So wet for me huh? it's almost like you wanna milk the life out of me." He says voice low and hoarse, god really has favourites.

As he pounds so filthily, obscenely and shamelessly into you, you can't help but stare at him- the strongest proving himself to you.

"Nggh w-want a kiss toru" You say, more moaning than speaking.

And what his girl wants, she gets.

He bends down to steal your lips in a feverish kiss.

So sweetly, so euphoric, so lovingly.... almost as if he wasn't rearranging your guts.

All you can hope is things last like this forever him being yours and you being his.

As he stares into your eyes and feels his dick harden again and falls in love again with you he promises himself to go with an actual date with you after the shibuya mission.

Kento Nanami:

Oh, he is the kind of guy who is the definition of focused. Before he met you, he was focused on his career (still is- gotta have money to spoil his girl, right?) and making sure he was not a problem to the Neighbours.......

Now, the Neighbours were SICK of you both and Nanami's favourite activity he did after coming home after a longgggg day of tiring work and his sweet wife all dolled up waiting for him.

"K-ken the neighbours are gonna c-complain-" You stutter trying to speak a proper sentence which Nanami makes hard to especially when his head is trapped between your plush thighs and arms holding your hip -he doesn't want you squirming or does he? especially the way he is eating you out? he isn't stopping till you cry (if you are lucky).

"Let them." He says, focused on you, his meal. You look at him- so -so pretty, you think.

"You think I am pretty?" He chuckles, oops did you say that out loud?

Now anyone would blush at the sight- you so shamelessly sprawled for him on the dining table (the very dining table you both entertain guests as they fawn over how lovely and suitable you are for each other), skirt hitched around your hips, mascara smudged- wait, weren't yall supposed to go on a date? -and Nanami still in his suit tie a bit loosened from his hobby he was indulging in at the moment.

You are lost in pleasure, your mind too dumb to think straight.

You grab at his strands as his tongue flicks out to tease your already swollen nub.

"C-can I come? Please please please please-" you say like a mantra feeling your orgasm dawn for the 4th- or was it 5th?

"Hmmm?" He says as if considering it- so mean.

"No let's try something else hmm?" He says smirking- on his knees like he won't do this again- but he will, and you would let him.

"C-can I get a kiss?" You say panting, eyes wide open staring at the love of your life.

"Of course, sweetheart." Nanami says smiling the facade he puts up when doing this cracking up a bit, as he catches your lips in a kiss- you could marry him again.

A bit.

He smacks your ass. "Now, darling you decide- do I let you come while you are on call with the guy who flirted with you earlier or........ I don't let you come at all?"

Uh oh.

Ryomen Sukuna:

Now, Sukuna is a menace, suprise suprise! A bit bratty and forget getting to come this curse man is not resting till you are going limp in his arms.

"Ah! I am s-so-sorry" You stutter trying to get words out of your mouth.

"S-so-sorry" He repeats in a mocking tone- so rude- and he enters into you- again- "What, brat? Can't get the words out?" He says in a concerned tone.

Oh, he is FAR from concerned if anything it's as if he is well intent on breaking you.

"P-please don't tease-" You try to say. Heavy implication on 'try' because as you open your mouths and barely get the words out, he is spitting on your clit drawing harsh circles on your bud.

He laughs as he watches you gasp and moan at his actions. "Knew you were nothing but a slvt- just hungry for some cvck huh? that's why you were being so rude earlier?" He whispers in your ear- words slowing down as his actions speed up- as he increases his thrusts so unforgivingly.

"K-kuna?" You say to him voice whiny and so high pitch- he would probably laugh it he wasn't as pent as you and with the way you were clenching around him....

"W-want a kiss" You ask- no demand lips puckering up and Sukuna chuckles before capturing your lips in a feverish kiss.

And he watches as you smile and moan into his mouth too smitten with you.

It was you after all.

Your breath hitches and fingers dig into his back- a tell-tale sign you were going to come which- "Come for me hmm?" He whispers voice all low and seductive.

And you do.

A/N: Hope you liked it! I am NOT very good at writing it for several characters at once.......but I tried my best- please provide feedback!

I was gonna write for others too but y'know it wasnt coming off nicely these are the only ones which vibed :P

[robininthelabyrinth]

Toxicity - ao3

- part 3 -

It was not too long after Lan Wangji’s visit – a month or two, no more, and in the timescale of war that was very short indeed – that Lan Xichen finally returned to his side.

Nie Mingjue gathered his courage. “Did you speak with your uncle?” he asked, reaching out to take Lan Xichen’s hand in his.

“I did,” Lan Xichen said, and his eyes were bright as stars. “You want to marry me, Mingjue-xiong? You haven’t even kissed me.”

“I do. I do want to marry you,” Nie Mingjue said, taking the question seriously even though it had been made in jest. “I am not asking for your agreement right now, but I would not begin the process of courting you without making clear my intentions.”

Lan Xichen softened, smiling. “Righteous and unyielding, straightforward and upright,” he murmured and reached out with his free hand to tuck some of Nie Mingjue’s hair that had fallen loose back behind his ear. Nie Mingjue might be sick and tired of that particular phrase, but he would hear it a thousand times from Lan Xichen’s lips. “Oh, da-ge, you really are always the same.”

Nie Mingjue shivered a little at the familiar, intimate term of address. “May I kiss you?” he asked, and watched as Lan Xichen’s smile grew wider still.

“You may,” Lan Xichen said. “If I may kiss you as well.”

Nie Mingjue tried to find a way to tell Lan Xichen about his upcoming fate, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when Lan Xichen smiled at him so happily. The most he could do was remind him that their love had an expiration date, that it was better to marry and be done with it.

Lan Xichen refused, though. He said that he enjoyed their courtship, that he wanted the entirety of the experience for them both: the memories made together, the anticipation, the joy, and that they would wed when the war was over, in full view of both their families.

Nie Mingjue wanted that more than anything, and so he agreed…although in some respects, in his heart, he considered them already wed.

He did not intentionally keep his new relationship with Xichen a secret from his men – if he had not been so determined to treat Lan Xichen as he ought to be treated, with respect and honor, and feared the threat of distraction in the midst of battle, he would have shouted out the news of their engagement in the middle of the war camp. And yet he was also by nature a private man, inclined to be possessive of the few joys he had, and so while he did not hide it, he also did not go out of his way to mention it. It was already common for him to spend time cloistered with his guests, no matter who they were; in that way, Lan Xichen’s visits were no different from the rest, except in that Nie Mingjue enjoyed them far more.

It was not until months later that his camp discovered that their leader was courting, and naturally they discovered it in the most awkward manner possible: news coming of an imminent surprise attack at dawn that required Nie Zonghui to rush over to alert his sect leader without warning and thus finding him curled up in his lover’s arms.

“Can I help?” Lan Xichen asked as Nie Mingjue prepared himself for war, glaring at Nie Zonghui’s wide grin – the man has a fondness for gossip, and there would be no stopping him. “With the battle?”

“You may do whatever you wish,” Nie Mingjue said, leaning down to steal a kiss. “I trust you completely in all things, and not least of all your excellent cultivation. The attack is two-pronged – would you go the western front, while I take the east? We can meet in the middle. Take as many of my Nie cultivators as you think you might need.”

“No need,” Lan Xichen said. “There are a number of Lan cultivators in your camp, and the western side of the camp is guarded by a mountain ridge – we can ambush them there with musical cultivation and drive them running straight into the camp without their swords.”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “Nie Zonghui, you take command of the camp and half our cultivators,” he instructed. “When the Wen sect comes running towards you in their confusion, cut them off.”

Nie Zonghui saluted, humor gone from his face – postponed, not forgotten – and the three of them left.

Nie Mingjue hoped only to repulse the attack, but it ended as a complete rout, total victory, through factors neither side could predict: it turned out that the western ridge was housing one of the dragons that sometimes passed through the cultivation world, a celestial dragon in blue and white, and it took offense to the Wen attack, demolishing their ranks with fang and claw and song-magic that deafened the ear.

(Nie Mingjue wondered briefly if it was the same celestial dragon that had cursed him all those years ago.)

In the end, there was very little more than clean-up left over, with Lan Xichen leading his Lan cultivators to drive the remaining Wen sect cultivators into the waiting arms of Nie Zonghui’s forces, and most of them surrendered at once rather than risk being sent back to face the dragon’s wrath. With that battle concluded and the western front secured, Nie Zonghui and Lan Xichen were able to rush to Nie Mingjue’s side, providing timely reinforcement, and the eastern front was won as well.

Lan Xichen was totally uninjured and barely even winded, but Nie Mingjue kissed him out of joy in seeing him well nonetheless, heedless of the blood and muck on him, and after that, of course, everyone knew.

“Go talk to Nie Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue told Lan Xichen after that, ignoring the way he raised his eyebrows. “There are things you need to know, things I’ve been dragging my feet about telling you…I’ve tried time and time again to say, and each time the words stick in my throat. But he knows. He knows, and he’ll be able to tell you.”

“I will go,” Lan Xichen said, although he looked a little puzzled. “Whatever it is, though, we’ll face it together.”

“We will,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Now go, let my brother pester you about wedding plans. He has ideas.”

Laughing, Lan Xichen left, and Nie Mingjue turned back to the business of war: planning out battles, considering strategy, securing their supply lines, communicating with allies and spies alike.

The next missive he received from Meng Yao told him to go to Yangquan.

Meng Yao’s information had been excellent up to that point, and Nie Mingjue had no reason to doubt him. The maps he sent, along with information about the enemies’ movements, had helped Nie Mingjue win battles and minimize casualties, and he thought to himself that he would be forever indebted to his former deputy for the sacrifice he had made in going to obtain it, for surely Wen Ruohan would not be a kind master.

And yet, when he went to Yangquan with only a small party – any more, Meng Yao had warned, and he might be noticed, when the goal here was to strike quickly and retreat quicker – he found himself unexpectedly outnumbered, surrounded and overpowered: Wen Ruohan himself had come to inspect the site, and he had brought his strongest guards with him.

Nie Mingjue was taken prisoner.

Tied in chains and dragged to the Nightless City behind Wen Ruohan’s carriage, choking on dust and beaten like a dog by any Wen cultivator who passed by, Nie Mingjue’s only thought was that he would die before he went mad, and he found some small measure of relief in that.

He regretted it, of course – he regretted not marrying Lan Xichen, not insisting, though he knew war was no time for it; he regretted not having seen his brother more, though he knew the battlefield was no place for him. He regretted that his death was likely to be gruesome and painful, given Wen Ruohan’s usual proclivities, and that his loved ones would know that.

But at least, he comforted himself, he hadn’t gone insane, turning against all he held dear. That fate he had spent his whole life fearing, it seemed, would not be his.

With that thought in mind, he was able to go with some sense of peace to the throne room of the Nightless City, but when he got there everything seemed – not as he had expected.

Wen Ruohan was standing, for one thing, and he seemed almost nervous, looking Nie Mingjue over to confirm that he was still alive, muttering to himself that there weren’t too many marks, that he was still mostly intact, that he shouldn’t be too angry –

“He?” Nie Mingjue asked, entirely at a loss. He was chained and bound, on his knees in front of his enemy, the man who had killed his father and whose son he had killed in turn; the situation ought to be clear and yet he was more confused than ever. “Who are you talking about?”

“Me, I expect,” Meng Yao said, walking through the door arrogantly, as if the Fire Palace belonged to him instead of Wen Ruohan. “Ah, da-ge, as usual I seem to have underestimated you.”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him, surprised – Meng Yao had never used such an intimate term of address for him, though he would have permitted it if the other man had ever shown any interest.

Meng Yao saw his expression and laughed.

“Or perhaps not,” he said, and the smile on his face was pleasant as always, and yet there was cruelty in it. “So er-ge hasn’t told you yet, has he? No, of course, he wouldn’t; he’d think he was being noble, protecting you from your own past.”

“I don’t understand,” Nie Mingjue said, his eyes darting to Wen Ruohan – but that proud man was on his knees, willingly showing reverence, and to Meng Yao of all people. “Meng Yao –”

“Jin Guangyao, actually,” Meng Yao said. “‘Meng’ was my miserable mother’s surname, for all the good it did her…I did tell you that my bloodline was the Jin.”

“You were acknowledged? Jin Guangshan –”

Meng Yao laughed. “Oh, da-ge, da-ge, still so confused! You never did understand anything. I really don’t understand why er-ge was so desperate to bring you back – he slept for over a decade after putting your soul into your mother’s belly, did you know that? A decade! We may be ancient, but time is still precious, and he wasted so much of it on you...oh, you stupid fool. You still don’t understand, do you?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand anything.

“Perhaps a visual demonstration would be best,” Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao, apparently – said, and the air around him shimmered as if he were a mirage induced by heatstroke.

A moment later, there was no Meng Yao, no Jin Guangyao, no human standing there, but instead the massive coils of a yellow-bellied flood dragon draped themselves around the throne of the Wen sect.

Nie Mingjue stared up at him.

“Now do you see?” Jin Guangyao hissed at him, eyes glittering. “Do you know now, what you have cost me?”

“How – you’re…you’re a dragon!”

“And not just me,” Jin Guangyao said. “Your beloved Lan Xichen is, too: my beloved er-ge, my sworn brother, and yours, too.  It was the three of us together – we were all brothers once, long ago, before you died…I never understood. Why does er-ge love you so much that he would hurt himself to retrieve your soul and give you new life? Enough to lower himself into the filth of humanity, to forget his former self, to learn to love you from the beginning as if you were a brand-new person – why? What’s so interesting about you? You’re the most boring person I’ve ever met. A righteous prig, and a fool.”

“You – Lan Xichen –” Nie Mingjue stuttered, still staring, disbelieving. “My parents – the curse –”

Jin Guangyao laughed.

“I always planned to tell you before the end, you know, da-ge. I wanted you to know,” he said conversationally. “I wanted you to know it was your fault that your parents died. Lan Xichen, my er-ge…he kept your soul after it should have passed into the wheel of reincarnation, and when your human parents came to beg for a child, he gave you the body he thought you deserved, taking years off his own life to do it – and when he had slept, that was when I came in, gifting you with my poison, the only thing you ever deserved to get from me. I infused it in your mother and father both just to make sure it got to you; if it wasn’t for you, they might have lived long and happy lives. And they thanked me for it!”

Nie Mingjue felt numb. “You killed them to get to me? I wasn’t – I hadn’t even been born!”

“Your soul is still your soul, da-ge, no matter the quirks of personality you developed through your upbringing,” Jin Guangyao said dismissively. “If you weren’t, er-ge wouldn’t have fallen in love with you all over again, would he?”

Lan Xichen was the celestial dragon, Nie Mingjue thought, just as Jin Guangyao, who he had once thought was called Meng Yao, was the flood dragon. Except his parents had been deceived: there was no price for him to pay for his birth, for his strength and cultivation talent, for Lan Xichen had willingly shouldered that debt. Instead, the poison Jin Guangyao had claimed would help them minimize the cost, making him suffer only one year in eight, was actually the source of all his ills – without it, he might have not had to suffer at all.

“Your parents must have made your childhood a misery, training you up to be tough enough to live through your first tribulation,” Jin Guangyao said dreamily. “And then you must have lived the rest of your life in fear, fear and distance, allowing no one to be close to you – I knew you’d hate the idea of turning on everyone you loved most of all. You even tried to turn Xichen down! You’ll never know how much I laughed when he told me about it: he thought you meant that you expected your mortal life to be short, you know, or perhaps that it was an early death due to war that you feared.”

Anger came easily to Nie Mingjue, an old companion.

“Well, if your goal was to separate me from Xichen, you failed,” he said. “He’s agreed to marry me.”

Jin Guangyao’s smile turned into a scowl at once, and his tail lashed out, smashing the pillars and walls of the Fire Palace – no wonder Wen Ruohan was on his knees, shaking in terror; there was no way a human could fight a dragon of such strength.

“How dare you?” he hissed. “How dare you even think of tainting him once again?”

“How dare you?” Nie Mingjue shouted back, ignoring the look of panic on Wen Ruohan’s face. He had already accepted that his death would come to him here, today, a slow and gruesome demise before he’d ever reached thirty; Jin Guangyao could do nothing to him than he had not already anticipated happening at Wen Ruohan’s hands. “You claim to love Xichen, and yet by your own words you went behind his back to sabotage what he tried so hard to do! For all your talk about the filth of the human world, you’re the one who crawled through the muck, all lies and deceit, writhing in it like the pathetic worm that you are –”

Jin Guangyao smashed walls in his rage, and yet he calmed too quickly: that pleasant smile re-emerged on his face, and he reached out to catch Nie Mingjue’s head with his claws, the long, scaly claws sliding through his hair, closing around him to rest the tips on his face, pricking his flesh.

“Always so judgmental, da-ge,” he said. “Always so quick to look down on me for not living up to your expectations. Perhaps that’s the heart of you, the part of you that you keep in every life – you were just the same when you were the great azure dragon, the mightiest of us all even if er-ge was of nobler birth. And yet, even in that past life, your strength, your might, none of that helped you, did it?”

He brought his face close to Nie Mingjue’s, the dragon’s head the size of half his body, the longest of his fangs extending the length of his hand, from fingertip to the base of the palm, his long and serpentine tongue extending to lick at his cheek and lips in vile mockery of the kiss of brotherhood.

“Let me tell you a secret, da-ge,” he whispered into his ears, the latent poison on his breath making Nie Mingjue struggle to breathe even though Jin Guangyao wasn’t yet actively trying to hurt him. “In your last life? It was me who killed you then, too. I poured my poison into the song you got from er-ge, the one you so treasured. The more you played it, the more it would hurt you; the greater your love for him was, the quicker your death would come…you died within the year, da-ge, screaming in agony, blind and deaf, your powerful body rotting away beneath you, and you never knew why.”

“You’re disgusting,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao forced his head back, his sharp claws digging in enough to cause small rivulets of blood to start dripping down his face. “Are you jealous? Is that it? That he sees you as his brother and nothing more, even once I was dead? Or was it some other petty dispute that made you feel the need to smile to my face while stabbing me in the back, to persecute me not only in one lifetime, but the next?”

“Perhaps it’s only that I enjoy watching you suffer,” Jin Guangyao said, and his smile was as chillingly pleasant as it had been the entire time Nie Mingjue had known him, the same calm collected smile Meng Yao used to deal with everything. The same smile he’d given Nie Mingjue’s parents as he poisoned them, no doubt. “Did you think that you had escaped the fate I planned for you by coming here? It’s my poison that causes your agony, da-ge, your agony and your insanity, and I carry it with me everywhere – I’ll pour my poison into your belly until you lose your mind and turn into a mindless beast just like you’ve always feared.”

His smile widened.

“And then poor Meng Yao, who doesn’t know better, will rescue you and take you home. Home to your brother who will run to greet you, to your sect that will not want to fight back against you, to your lover who will have no choice but to put you down for your own good…I wonder how many of them you’ll take with you before er-ge has to eradicate you with his own hands? For good, this time.”

“Don’t pretend to care,” Nie Mingjue said, even as his heart froze in fear within his chest. His arms were chained to his side, the pressure of the massive claw around the back of his head irresistibly keeping him kneeling, keeping him from moving. “You miserable, pathetic little – son of a whore!”

It wasn’t one of the insults he generally favored, but for some reason it rose to his tongue now, and it seemed to strike true for Jin Guangyao in a way he wouldn’t have expected it to: he reared back his head a little, glaring down at him, but it was only another moment or two before his eyes narrowed and the pleasant smile returned.

“Good-bye, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao said. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck in your next life.”

And then he pressed his heavy head to Nie Mingjue’s, that long serpentine tongue forcing its way into Nie Mingjue’s mouth and down his throat, choking him on it, choking him on the fumes and acid that came with it, poisonous and searing the back of his throat, and then there was that familiar pain that he remembered from his eighth birthday, his sixteenth, his twenty fourth – the eight-year pain that he had feared ever since he knew what it meant, what it foretold.

Pointless pain. The grudge of another lifetime, carried over into this one, and for what?

For nothing.

[lilcoffeecup]

Family Lost,Family Found

This is my entry for the fluff/angst Maribat April. This is the angst piece to @i-love-being-weird‘s fluff piece. Its not very long, I hope you enjoy it and if you have a chance go check out the fluff piece (it’s really good) :) @maribat-angst-fluff-april

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Life on the streets had always been hard for Jason, not knowing when his next meal would be or if he would have to endure another beatdown when he wouldn’t pay the ‘monthly tax’ to the two-bit criminal working for Black Mask. He hadn’t expected to have this weird feeling in his chest that made him want to protect her from all the bad things in life. In Crime Alley it was survival of the fittest and if you wanted to survive you were only supposed to look after yourself, only yourself. Somehow though, there she was, shivering in the rain and looking as thin as a twig which would break if simply touched.  

“Hey, its raining out, you should go back home, it’s not safe to be out here”

“I-I don’t ha-have a-a home or any wh-where to g-go”

“Well come on then, I know a place” “Wh-where?” “A lil’ up ahead, you’re shaking like a leaf so hurry up”

Upon reaching the building, Jason could see that the little girl was still shaking, it made sense though since unlike him who was only a little bit wet, she was soaked to the bone.

“Here, blueberry” Jason hands Marinette a blanket, “warm up, this place doesn’t have heating, so these blankets are all we got” gesturing to the pile of worn-out blankets which had definitely seen better days.  For the first time in a long time both Marinette and Jason feel asleep knowing that they were not alone.

Over the next few weeks, Jason and Marinette, who Jason had taken to calling pixie, became inseparable, things were somewhat good, running errands for some thugs got Jason money for food and he didn’t feel lonely ever since pixie came into his life. Jason should have known that it wouldn’t last, money was dwindling as fast as it was coming and the time for the monthly payment was coming up. He hadn’t realized how hard it would be when it wasn’t only him that he had to look out for, but also pixie, his little sister not by blood but by love.

Over the next few days Marinette could see that something had been bothering Jason, but every time she asked, he said nothing and tried to change the subject.

“Jay-Jay, what’s wrong, you seem so much more on edge for the past few days?” “Hmm, oh its nothing pixie, I scored this somewhat fresh loaf of bread today, here” Jason said, giving the loaf to Marinette and only ripping off a tiny piece. Marinette heard the rumble of Jason’s stomach and looked at him questionably, he had been getting thinner and she couldn’t help but think that it was her fault. Ripping off a big chunk of the loaf, she handed it to Jason, “Jay-Jay you need to eat, don’t think I haven’t noticed you giving me most of the food, you need it more than me” “No pix, I already ate, I brought this for you” “Bu- “. Jason cut Marinette off, “No buts pixie, you need to eat or you’re going to be a twig forever!” “Hey! I’m not a twig” “Then eat pixie” Marinette huffed then mumbled out a “fine”.

Marinette had been meaning to do something for Jason for a while now and she found her opportunity when she came upon a fruit stall, the owner was busy talking to someone, so she quickly swiped an apple. While walking away she beamed, “Jason’s gonna love it!” she thought. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the two men looking at her with knowing eyes.

“Hey! Isn’t that the kid whose been hanging around with the Todd brat these days?” “Yeah, I’ve word on the street is that she’s his sister or somethin’” The taller man, Mark, smirks, “well, well, well, guess we found the Todd brat’s weakness now”. The other man, Bill, smirks as well “collection time is coming up soon anyways, why not send a lil’ reminder”

2 blocks away from her and Jason’s hideout, Marinette was sure to hide her loot so that no prying eyes would see anything, this was for Jason and no one else. All of a sudden, she heard a holler behind her and spun around, immediately on edge.

“Hey kid! you’re with that Todd brat aren’t cha, his sister?” They didn’t wait for a response, just barreled into her, knocking her to the ground. “See, ya brother usually ends up comin’ up late on payments so we thought a lil’ incentive would nice, saves us the hassle of having to track the brat down and him a beating, ya know”  

Before she could get up and run, she felt the wind get knocked out of her by a kick to her stomach, then her ribs, she curled into herself as tight as she could, but they kept on kicking her. She hadn’t even realized when they had stopped and left, she hurt all over and farther ahead was a mushed apple with a section bitten off suggesting that someone had taken a bite then crushed it with their shoe.

Crying, bleeding, and defeated, Marinette limped back to the abandoned building she and Jason had huddled up in. As soon as she got in, she was faced by a worried Jason. “Pixie!! Where were you, I came back and you weren’t here, I was so worried something had happe- “Jason cut himself off. “Pixie, what happened to you? Where did all these bruises come from, just give me the name and I swear they won’t ever touch you again”

“I don’t know their names, but they said something about beating me up as incentive for them not having to track you down for payments and for you to avoid a beating”, Jason felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He had been worried about this month’s payment date was creeping closer and closer and how he didn’t have enough, again. He had heard that the tires business had been doing well in the Black Shack, the place where most stolen things were fenced. He would have to make sure to try and score some, and cash in a few favours to try and scrounge up the money. Batman usually stuck to the city and here, in Crime Alley, there was no Batman that was gonna swoop in and save him or pixie if he wasn’t able to pay up in time.

Jason spent almost all of the next day trying to scope out any potential places he could hit and while he was able to get some loot, it wasn’t enough. It was already after dusk and the night had set in, and he knew he better get back soon since the later at night, the more dangerous it is. Just 1 or 2 buildings before his destination, he saw it, the bat-mobile, basking under the moonlight like a gift from above, and just by looking at it he could tell that they were custom. This would easily be able to cover the rest of the payment and he could get that plushie pixie had been staring at the other day.

He first made sure that no one was nearby, it wouldn’t do for someone to try and claim his prize before he could. Confirming an all clear, or as clear as it could be for the time of night, he got to work on the tires. He was almost done taking out the 3rd tire when he heard someone around him and whipped around so fast, he was sure he would feel it in his neck later. He couldn’t see the person but definitely felt someone’s eyes on him.

“Whoever you are, beat it, I found this first so it’s mine, go find your own!”.  The response startled him, as the person came out of the shadows, “This is my car, so I don’t think I’ll beat it”, it was the Batman, and Jason felt as if those white lenses were piercing into his very being. “Ho-Holy shit, you’re the Batman!” “Yes, yes, I am, now could you put the tires back on my car?” “I-I can’t, I need the money, not all of us can afford to live lavishly like you, judging by your custom tires” “Why do you need the money, kid?” “None of your business” Jason sneered, he was getting sick of this, he had hidden the other tires well so he could come back for them tomorrow, he needed to get out of here ASAP. “Where do you think you’re going kid?” Batman asked just as Jason was about to turn and make a run for it, Jason didn’t bother to give him a response just made a mad dash for it.

He didn’t get far when Batman caught up to him, “Kid, I need you to put my tires back on” ‘this isn’t worth it’ Jason thought and decided that he would put the tires back then get back to pixie straight after. As soon as Jason had finished putting back all the tires, he was just about to get the hell out of there when he heard Batman “Get in kid” and knew that he couldn’t leave pixie all alone.

“No, I’m not going with you, you sicko! I already fixed your tires, what else do you want from me!” He struggled “The streets aren’t a safe place for kids, you’re coming with me” “No, let me go! I can’t leave her alone! You don’t understand! Let go!!” “Who her? Is there someone living with you?” Jason mentally hit himself, ‘how could he expose pixie! No, he couldn’t tell him about her!’. “No-one” Jason said as he was huddled into the bat mobile.

It was a few weeks until Jason was able to get out of the Manor and back to Crime Alley to check on pixie. When he reached the abandoned building, there was no pixie in sight, and almost nothing that would tell that anyone had lived there. Finding out through the grapevine, it turned out that pixie had been sold to a tourist couple in the façade of an adoption to pay off the debt that had built up in Jason’s absence. He had failed to protect her, failed to keep her away from all the bad things and now because of Jason’s mistakes, she was paying the price. He swore that he would find her and that when he did, he would never let her go, ever.

It had been years since that fateful night, Jason missed and thought of his little sister every day, he had given up hope on finding her after the first 2 years. Lost in thought, he didn’t realize bumping into a petite black-haired girl carrying a coffee walking out of a café that he and pixie would go to on special days if the had enough money. “Sorry mister, didn’t see you there, would you happen to know where the Wayne Enterprises building is?” “Don’t apologize, it was my fault too, lost in thought, I was just heading there myself, I can show you”. “Thank you so much!”

Jason couldn’t help but be reminded of his little pixie when looking at this girl, he felt his chest tighten up at the thought. “Hey mister, are you okay? you seem to have spaced out a bit” the girl asked. “No, I’m fine, you just remind me of someone who I miss a lot” “Funny enough, you remind me of someone I used to know and cherish a lot when I used to live here”.

“You used to live here?” Jason asked, he would definitely not have been able to tell had she not pointed it out. “Yeah, but it was a long time ago, I used to live in Crime Alley with my brother but got separated and haven’t seen him since” the girl said with a sad and pained face.

“We’re here!” Jason said as they reached the building, “Thanks for all the help mister!” said the girl and was about to walk away when Jason’s had realized that they had never introduced themselves, “Hey! What’s your name?”. The girl turned around and smiled “Sorry, I totally forgot to introduce myself, Hi, I’m Marinette” Marinette stuck out her hand, Jason shook it and said “Hey, I’m Jason”. Both thought ‘that’s her/his name! It can’t be thoug-‘ they didn’t have time to finish their though before a teenager about the age of Marinette with a coffee cup in hand and a younger child came into view.

What the younger said, shook Marinette to her core, not going unnoticed by the rest, “Todd! Finally, you show up Father and Drake have been waiting for you!”. “Marinette? What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost”, Jason looked concerningly at Marinette, “You-you’re na-name is Jason Todd?” “Yeah…why?” Jason was getting worried now but felt as if the word has stopped when he heard what Marinette said next.

Her voice cracking, Marinette spoke so quietly, almost as if whispering “Jay-Jay? Is that you?” Jason almost broke into sobs right in the lobby of W.E., could this really be happening? “Pixie, that you?”. Marinette immediately threw herself into Jason’s chest, and nodded “Ye-yeah it’s me, oh my God, jay-jay I thought I would never be able to see you again, are you really here, tell me this isn’t another dream because I don’t ever want to wake up if it is”. Jason started rubbing soothing circles on her back while shedding his own tears, “Shhh, it’s okay Pixie, it’s me, I’m really here, this is real and I thought I would never see you again either” “God pix, I’m so, so, sorry I left you all alone, I looked for you everywhere but never found you”. “Please don’t leave me again” Marinette sobbed, “I don’t want to lose you again”. Jason felt even more tears pooling and dripping from his eyes, “Never pixie, I will never leave you, ever.” 

Jason tightly hugged Marinette, “I missed you Jay-Jay” “I missed you too Pixie,  I missed you too”. 

~fin.

[wlwocprincess]

I feel really bad as a wlwoc for saying this sometimes because I feel like I’m weirdly betraying a part of myself but sometimes when I see woc dating white women (or even non racialized non human women), particularly black women, in mainstream media I almost always find myself let down. I even find myself almost wishing that these characters weren’t sapphic if they were going to be treated such a way. Whenever I see a black girl dating a white girl in media or a popular pairing between a black girl and a white girl, I always see that all of the favor and focus is going onto the non black girl. It’s always about what she wants and the focus is always going onto her and as a wlwoc myself, I’m sick of seeing this shit.

The black girl is often her white girlfriend’s cheerleader and personal helper, her entire character revolves around her and she becomes nothing but a tool to prop up her white girlfriend. Such as Choni in Riverdale, Toni had her own interests and personality until the writers decided to put Bughead back together and pair her up with Cheryl. Then her entire character became revolved around Cheryl and she rarely has agency of her own aside from a few instances.

If this is not the case, if the black girl and the white girl are not together, but anticipated to; then often the black girl rarely has a chance to have the spotlight or be seen outside of times where she’s with the white main character. The show I Am Not Okay With This manages to sideline Dina despite being Syd’s (the white main protagonist) longtime best friend and object of affection. But we rarely see her or get chances to explore her, as she’s not even the secondary protagonist as that belongs to Syd’s neighbor, who is a white boy.

this can happen in fandom too. When Viv Vision kissed Riri Williams, the arc following that in canon was Viv and Riri mending their friendship because the kiss was done completely to Riri’s surprise and it made her incredibly uncomfortable. But to the fandom? They immediately started shipping them together and celebrating them being in a romantic relationship. Despite this only being a desire on Viv’s part in canon while Riri had never shown romantic interest in Viv. I wouldn’t have any qualms with people shipping a pairing if I didn’t see someone in the tag writing essays about Riri being “irrational” and “angry” for being Uncomfortable. In a world where black women’s pain and discomfort are trivialized and pushed aside, I don’t appreciate Riri’s canon desires being pushed away in favor of Viv’s and them being together.

There are so many other examples of this kind of thing happening (Carole and Tuesday, Black Mirror) but here are the ones I personally know best. Black sapphic characters should not be here to love and engage in relationships with your white sapphic faves with no agency where they act as their personal cheerleader and therapist. Obviously this kind of thing can still happen with fictional straight relationships involving black women and white or non human men but the reason I call this out is because I’m tired of having to settle with “bad representation” or my personhood or feelings not ever being allowed to be centered on me and instead on white sapphics that are the focus, when we, are simply existing as love interests and nothing more. It feels exactly like “The Black Best Friend Trope” but with gays and I’m disappointed.

We also need to highlight media made for wlwoc by wlwoc, because it’s way too often that whiteness is the norm.

[harrystyleswatermelon-sugar]

Gas station encounter - Part VI

Part V

“What, no? I would never…no” I can see that he doesn’t believe me and sigh. We walk back to the elevator and before the elevator comes up, I face him. I gather a lot of my braveness and ask:

“Why are you bothered by him? He is a nice guy, absolute son-in-law-material” he snorts not very elegant and shoots me a glance.

“Just want to be sure you choose the right one” he shrugs his shoulders and steps into the elevator.

“And you think you know, who the right one is? Great, show me I am waiting for forever to find him” I reply sarcastically and add:

“Oh wait, maybe you should find yourself someone first because you are unsuccessful with it as well” his eyes are full of hurt and I feel bad because of my harsh words.

“You are right, I am not in the position to judge who you are dating” he agrees and now I feel even worse. He walks straight past me when we arrive downstairs and leaves the hospital. It is still snowing and I follow him, finally getting a hold of his arm. He tries to shake my hand off, but it only glides downwards and I take his hand, holding him back and trying to turn him around, so we face each other.

“Wait. Look, I am sorry. I didn’t mean that…I just hate it, when someone wants to tell me what´s good for me. And I am not interested in Phil, absolutely not” I assure him and he sighs, entwining our fingers a bit more.

“It´s okay and you are right. I can´t find someone who stays with me for more than a year, who am I to give you any tips?” his eyes find mine and we look at each other for a few seconds.

“I want your tips and I want your opinion. You are the most important person I have at this point in my life. And honestly, all those models are stupid for leaving you” he grins and pulls me closer.

“I missed you…are you coming home with me?” he asks and I nod. We haven’t had an evening together for ages. Hand in hand we walk back to his car and I am glad that we fixed our argument. At his house, we both change into some comfy clothes and he makes some tea while I tug myself into the blanket on his couch.

“And I?” he asks and I lift the fabric, so he can slide right next to me under the cover. I lean my head against his shoulder and he pulls me close, one arm around my shoulders. We sit there for a long time, not saying anything and I love that it is not awkward.

“All those men are idiots, who are not hitting on you” he mumbles and I lift my head.

“What?”

“You heard me…they are idiots. You are the best that could happen to any man” he says a bit louder and turns his head to look at me.

“I was honestly jealous today, when he looked at you with those hungry eyes and his hands all over you” I can hear, that he means it and I remember his hurt expression back in the hospital.

“His hands were not all over me, H. We are colleagues” I remind him and he laughs dryly.

“He is hitting on you, don’t you see it?” I shake my head and he cocks an eyebrow at me.

“What has a man to do, so you see that he is hitting on you?” he asks laughing and I bite my lip.

“Probably I wouldn’t notice it until he kisses me…” I shrug my shoulders and feel his soft touch on my cheek. He cups it with his big hand and I look up into his mesmerizing green eyes. I have never seen such beautiful green eyes anywhere else than with him.

“I would have punched him if he did that” I giggle and shake my head lightly.

“You should be happy when I finally find someone”

“Only if he is a good guy. Oh, my mom says hi and she invited us, you and me, over for Christmas if you´d like” he suggests out of the blue and I am a bit startled. I haven’t even met his mom in real life. I only joined a facetime session once.

“Erm…honestly I can´t I would love to but…” I reply and yes, I really would love to. He looks a bit sad but he nods.

“I understand, you have your own routine at Christmas. It´s okay” he smiles and I turn, to face him fully.

“Look, Dr Seymour has a family and Dr Sally worked last year on Christmas so this year it´s my turn. I´m sorry, I am free from the 26th to New Year though” I hope he understands what I want to say but I don’t have to worry. He smiles widely and nods.

“Great then how about coming up to Cheshire later? I mean if you want, it´s some time we both are free” he gets a bit nervous and I giggle, slapping his arm.

“Of course I want that. I will jump right in my car and come to Cheshire” he hugs me and I smile into his neck.

Korrigiert

The Christmas days are very quiet in the hospital, we usually allow the kids to go home. Only the very sick patients have to stay and I always hope that no one dies during those days, it would ruin Christmas for the whole family forever, but this year I am not lucky. A little boy dies and I have to be there only half a day before I want to go to Cheshire. Maybe it is not a good time to make a 4-hour drive. I call Harry when I have a bit time but he convinces me to come nevertheless and he promises to be there for me and make everything less bad.

When I finally get there around 10 pm I am fucking tired and annoyed. I stop in the driveway and take a deep breath. Anne's home looks lovely, everything is white and the house is decorated festively. The windows are light up and I can see Gemma and Anne in the kitchen.

I calm down a bit and grab my suitcase. As I put my stuff into my bag and lean into my car I can hear the front door open.

I smile at Harry and walk towards him. He steps outside in simple jeans and a T-Shirt.

“Hello there, ´s nice to see you. Merry Christmas” he says and hugs me tight. I sigh as I feel his warmth radiating against me and rest my head on his shoulder. I notice that his accent got a bit thicker, probably because they all talk like this.

“Hi, Merry Christmas to you, too” I reply and look up into his beautiful eyes.

“Are you okay? Or do I need to cheer you up before we get inside?” he asks a bit worried but I shake my head. Being here and with him already made the pain better.

“It´s okay. I am shy anyway, you know that. Let´s get in before you turn to ice” he laughs and takes my suitcase.

In the living room, I meet his mom. She is smiling so friendly that I don´t feel unwelcome or weird here at all.

“Mom, this is Y/N. This is my mom” he introduces us and Anne takes my extended hand.

“It´s so nice to finally meet you. Please call me Anne and feel completely at home. I can´t wait to show you Harrys baby pictures so you can annoy him with them” we laugh and my heart grows very heavy. I suddenly turn a bit sad, because I don´t have such a great family who is proud of me and supports me. I am all alone.

Gemma hugs me and hands me a glass of wine. We salute each other and Gemma tells Anne the story of how we met.

During dinner I watch them interact and try to get as much information as possible. I can feel the love in this house and I can see how proud Anne is of her kids and how much Harry adores his family. They mock each other but in a loving way and I love seeing it. Being part of it.

We clean everything up and while Harry and Gemma try to figure out, what we are doing now, I stay behind with Anne in her kitchen.

“You are a doctor? He told me about your job and I can´t imagine how hard this job must be” she asks and I nod.

“Yes, I graduated 2 years ago and I love my job and those kids. He probably told you that I try to not bond with other people…which seems odd because it was so easy with H” I laugh and she hands me a glass of wine.

“He is a sweetheart, I would doubt your heart if you could have resisted him in any way. How old are you?”

“I´ll turn 28 next February. You raised him right, you really got two gems there. Oh, by the way, thank you so much for inviting me over, I have a present for you” I remember and she laughs as I get her the present. I bought an expensive and very good bottle of wine and hand her the present.

“Oh honey, that wouldn’t have been necessary. But thank you, come ´ere” she hugs me and I am glad I chose the right gift.

“Mom, Y/N we want to watch a movie, are you coming?” I hear Harry from the living room and Anne and I smile at each other.

“I like you very much, it´s a bit of a disappointment that you are friends. Why can´t he bring someone like you as a partner” she sighs and I giggle a bit.

The siblings are sitting on the couch and Harry pulls me next to him while Anne and Gemma chat a bit and the intro of the film starts.

“I hope she was nice to you” he whispers and I look at him. The resemblance between him and Anne is enormous and I nod.

“I like her, now I know why you are who you are” he laughs a bit and kisses my forehead as I relax into his side.

I must have fallen asleep during the film because I wake up to quiet voices. I feel Harry's arm hugging me tight and I think I am lying half on top of his chest.

“Maybe we should wake her so she can go to bed, she is exhausted” Gemma suggests and Anne agrees.

“No, it doesn’t bother me that she sleeps. As long as we are awake she can stay right there” Harry replies and I sigh lifting my head.

“I´m awake but bed sounds good,” I say and rub my eyes. Harry pushes some of my hair out of my face and smiles at me.

“I´ll show you, come on” I wave goodnight to the ladies and stumble behind Harry.

“This is my room and yours is right next to it” he gestures as we are upstairs. He shows me the bathrooms and then leads me back to my room.

“I am so glad that you came, you can´t imagine,” he says as I sit on the bed.

“Me too. Tomorrow you could show me around town” I suggest and he agrees happily. I yawn and grab my sleeping clothes.

“Goodnight, Y/N. You can come over anytime, okay? See you tomorrow morning bright and smiley” I laugh and throw my arms around his neck.

“See you tomorrow” I reply and kiss his cheek, before he leaves me alone.

The next morning when I get downstairs Harry is already awake and sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and his phone.

“Good morning, love. Slept well?” he asks and I sit down next to him.

“Yes, can I get one cup of this too?” I ask and point to his coffee.

“Sure, mugs are up there and the coffee machine is easy to handle, I show you” he hands me a mug and shows me how to handle the machine. When we sit back at the table I feel him staring at me.

“What? You have seen me in the morning with no make-up” I say and touch my hair a bit irritated. Maybe I look weird. He chuckles and takes my hand. Usually, his fingers are full of rings but this morning they are clean and empty.

“I did. And I can´t get enough of it, you are so pretty” he bites his lip as if didn’t plan on saying that.

“Thank you, H” I squeeze his hand lightly and chuckle a bit.

“Mom said we behave like a couple and she is right…in some way. Guess you are the closest I have to a soulmate” we smile and I shake my head.

“Don’t worry, it´s the same with you for me. What about breakfast? Shall we make some for everybody?” I suggest and he nods.

“Absolutely. What about your delicious pancakes and will try myself on some beans and toast, traditional English?” he asks and I get up, pulling my hand out of his.

“Sounds delicious but you don’t try. You just do, because you are a great cook. That’s why you always cook when we have a sleepover” he laughs and gets the ingredients out of the cupboard.

I mix everything and watch him fiddling with the can opener for the beans. When the first pancakes are cooking I take the can opener from him and help him, he frowns.

“I feel stupid” he laughs and I wink at him.

“Well Mr Superstar, if you can´t even open a can…I´m joking, I´m joking” I giggle and try to scoot away from his hands but he pokes my sides and tickles me.

“You are mean” he scowls and I can´t stop laughing, patting my hand behind me on the kitchen to find the flour. I stick my whole hand in it and he raises an eyebrow because he can´t see what´s happening behind my back.

“What are you doing with your-“ he gets cut off when I smear my flour-covered hand right across his face. The expression of shock on his face makes me laugh even more and before I catch my breath he rubs his face against mine and shares the flour with me. I dug away and see him cleaning his face in the sink while I flip the pancake.

“I hate you,” he says and I chuckle.

“No, you love me” I reply and his green eyes shoot over to my face. “I- I mean- like a friend. Best friend” he nods very slowly and I am glad to hear someone coming down the stairs.

“Good morning early birds,” Anne says and smiles at us. She walks over to Harry, who is still looking at me with an expression, I can´t really read and hugs him.

“Morning, my favourite son” she smiles and kisses his cheek.

“Morning mum” he replies and turns his gaze to his mum.

“Morning Anne. I hope you like pancakes” she smiles and nods, while she makes herself some coffee.

We have a kind of quiet breakfast until the others wake up and join and I get a lot of compliments for my pancakes. Harry and I don´t really talk much but I hope everything´s fine between us. I mean, why shouldn’t it be?

Hello guys, here it is, a new chapter of my latest work. While I have to wait for my COVID-19 test results I have a lot of free time and being home again after 2 weeks of holidays is so boring. Hopefully I am back at work at monday. 

Stay safe everybody. 

Love, Julia xx

Taglist: @wotamelonsugar @lanallaa @highladyofelfhame-remastered @lucky-worm @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @nibabyy @magnificentbonkfarmlover

[la5t-res0rt]

fun fact fucko no one cares that he’s trans, gnc, or autistic. all they care about is that he said someone wasn’t bisexual all because they hate them. thats fucked up no matter who you are. being austistic isn’t an excuse to be an utter dick hole.

alrighty folks strap in because we are in for a long one today

to start off i will begin by saying that i care about the identities of people i like and call friends i care enough to listen and learn from them because they have different perspectives on issues that i as a person who is none of the things that this person is will ever understand

it is important to listen to people and learn from them not just shine a light out of your ass for someone out of a weird place of blind worship thats honestly so cringey but that isnt what this is about this about you and likely others harassing ad sending death threats my friend and comrade betel bitches

i will now be going under a readmore to spare the dashboard

so lets recap what exactly is he being harassed for

as you all are no doubt aware there is a blog called nether receipts where a certain user we shall not name catalogs instances where members of the beetlejuice fandom are harassed correction its a blog where this person catalogs instances where flaws in their character as well as the characters of the people around her are highlighted and critiqued with the occaisional off color remark and threat which i obviously do not approve of who would

anyway following reading some ill-informed and not-so-well-phrased comments from a certain narcissistic user about their sexuality my friend had this to say

this was the post that got them put on this receipts blog which really exists as a source of people for a certain cluster of the beetlebabe fandom to harass and try to drag or cancel 

this is the post that has made people call him biphobic and here is why thats wrong and stupid

you said in your ask that he only is saying that this icky person is not bisexual because there is malice between them and while yes its true that there is malice orion never once said that this person wasnt bisexual

i took the liberty of sifting through the harassment asks he received yesterday because you all love receipts so much i took the liberty of grabbing a few and adding some highlights so you dont miss the important bits

orion never once said this person isnt bisexual he stated that equating doing femme on femme  pornography to bisexuality is a biphobic statement and is in fact a problematic thing to say

there may be crossover between bisexual people and people who do femme on femme but they are far from the same thing doing pornography is a choice you actively make and you do it for compensation however being bisexual is simply part of who you are it is something you dont choose 

although this person would perhaps disagree

and before you come for me this person posted these for the world to see and obviously i have as many receipts as my drive can carry furthermore how does this argument make sense why would you care so much about heterophobia if youre not heterosexual why are you so pressed oh wait is it perhaps

because this person is using the split attraction model for woke points like this screams that this person sees women as sex objects or perhaps this person is comphet and is denying themselves because heteronormativity is so deeply ingrained in their being that they wish to cling to heterosexuality to keep up their squeaky clean white feminist woman persona or maybe theyre just not well informed on lgbt+ issues

editors note the editor is an ace person who considers using the split attraction model is situations like this isnt exactly helpful like i cant stop you from doing it but you shouldnt have to say im a bisexual heteromantic person you can just be a  bisexual woman and keep dating men you dating men doesnt erase your bisexuality saying that you would have sex with a woman but not romantically be involved with them makes the editor think woman = sex object and as a feminist the editor has to say thats fucked up

i will reiterate implying that doing pronography of any kind is equitable to a human sexualty is harmful to bisexual people and if youre like uhhh im bi and i think its okay guess what you do not speak for every single bi person so you should try harder to be compassionate for other peoples level of comfort

in any case statements like these are hurtful to bi people equating voluntary sex work to a sexuality isnt okay and its something that person should maybe address and consider apologizing for but since this person only listens to people in their inner circle and they dont even really listen to them its unlikely that this person will ever make amends for past biphobic tendencies because as everyone has been so quick to point out being bi doesnt excuse biphobia or homophobia or anything of the sort editors note heterophobia is not a legitimate issue im sorry if you feel oppressed for your straightness but really thats a you issue 

here is one more screenshot where my friend basically covers what i have just said as well as reminding the world that the owner of nether receipts is a narcissist 

being a bisexual person does not excuse you from saying biphobic things and there is literally no identifier you can use for yourself that exempts you from criticism for your actions and it doesnt mean that people cant demand that you address the wrongs youve done or said

you dont have to listen you dont have to do anything but dont be surprised if you say something shitty to a group of people and they get mad at you

also all that being said what orion said was not biphobic if anything he is raephobic but lets be honest who isnt ok there thats my one funny haha for you

we have every right to criticize someone who creates simulated cp and shares it with minors in 18+ servers or someone who equated bisexuality to voluntary sex work or someone who accuses people who disagree with them of being fascists or nazis or someone who goes out of their way to repost and edit art in a mocking manner or someone who actively claims to own a fandom like these are all critique worthy behaviors that all come from the same person who never explains their actions never holds themselves accountable for the shit they cause like we as people who share the same space as this person have every write to call bull roar when we see it

it is no secret that i dislike his person and it is also no secret that i will not hesitate to the the opportunity to drag them for being a shitty person whenever the opportunity arises and since their most recent beef with me was about how i was a bad friend i guess i figured this would be a good time to come forward for one of my friends who received dozens of harassment messages and several death threats over his commentary on the actions of this one vile individual

and i am addressing them now if they ever end up reading this or when it is inevitably sent to this person 

if youve got a problem with the way he and i or other antis critique you maybe come out from behind your wall of dipshit cronies and talk to us your damn self i am very sick of having to deal with nasti or morgan or that one minor or suz or that person that runs the rp blog or any of the others in your little hoard im tired of them trying to be slick like we see you we see all of you

all of your simulated cp aside youve said some really shitty things that you could easily amend since youve likely learned more about what it means to be lgbt+ since it is now a community you see yourself being a part of 

part of being human is learning from your past and making a better version of yourself for tomorrow and although i think you are a really awful person i dont think youre above self betterment and self reflection and self awareness 

also you dont seem to care at all when threats are being tossed around by your buddies but no matter how much me or orion or any of the others dislike what you do no person in their right mind would be okay with sending death threats and you shouldnt either you should at the very least extend that courtesy 

anyway

fuck you asker youre full of trash garbage and i hope you have a not so good day like i hope it rains or something invalidate my friends identity and ill yell at clouds

[omoi-no-hoka]

Rural Life and Mental Health in Japan as a Gaijin

Heads up: This is a very long, personal post about mental health and the stresses of living in rural Japan as a foreigner. If it’s not what you’re looking for in this blog, please feel free not to read it. If you can’t tell by the gif above, this isn’t going to be a very positive post because I’m not in a very positive mood.

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

It’s been just shy of five and a half years since I moved to Hokkaido, the northernmost island/prefecture in Japan. In many ways, it’s similar to the American Midwest, which is the region I’m originally from. It’s big on agriculture, it’s got lots of nature and rural areas, winters are long and nasty, and the people have a warmth that make up for the cold snow and ice outside. Heck, even a lot of the flora and fauna are the same.

I think of my current city as my “Japanese hometown” because it was where I stayed during my first trip to Japan and it’s where my hostparents from that time are. I love it here like I love my country bumpkin village of 2,800 back in the states.

But after a little over two years of living and working in this city, I think I need out. I am...tired of it in many ways.

特別扱い Tokubetsu Atsukai, “Special Treatment”

Prior to living in this city, I lived in Sapporo, which has a population of 2 million. There, no one batted an eye at a foreigner walking the streets. A lot of them were surprised that i could use Japanese, but a good few people were used to gaijin that could use nihongo and read kanji.

But in my current city, I have experienced all of the following things, some of which on a daily basis.

DISCLAIMER: I have also had a LOT of very positive experiences with the people of this city. Most of my experiences have been positive or neutral, but a good 40% have been as described below.

Everywhere I go, I am openly stared at. Gawked at, at times. (I am your standard-looking, standard-dressed, slightly overweight white girl. No visible tattoos, piercings, vibrant hair color, or otherwise attention-grabbing aspects about me other than the fact that i am clearly not Japanese.)

I am often spoken to like I am mentally disabled, or if I am with a Japanese person, they will refuse to speak to me and instead speak to my Japanese companion.

I have entered restaurants on my own and had waitstaff make a big “X” with their arms and say “No English” immediately upon seeing my non-Japanese face.

I have had waiting taxi drivers drive off instead of allow a troublesome foreigner into their car.

I have sat down alone at a bar and had the Japanese people beside me openly gossip about me with the assumption that I could not understand them.

When searching for apartments when I moved to this city, I was denied 75% of my picks because they have a “no gaijin” rule. Despite the fact that I can speak and read, that I have a good job and valid visa, and that I have already lived here 3 years without a single late rent payment or complaint against me.

I have built up casual relationships with employees at grocery stores, etc. I frequent, and they have asked me for my contact info because, in their own words, “I’ve always wanted a gaijin for a friend!” In Japan, every girl wants a token gaijin friend instead of a token gay friend.

I have gone on dates with Japanese men who clearly just wanted a white girl to hang on their arm like a piece of swag and insist on taking me to a pasta place because “You must prefer western food to Japanese food” or insisting that I dye my hair blonder to look more foreign.

I am just...so very tired of this 特別扱い (special treatment).

I don’t want to call it 差別 (prejudice) because, the majority of the time, Japanese people think they are doing me a kindness by speaking slowly and simply, or by telling me as soon as possible that they cannot help me in English, etc. While a couple of the above experiences are straight up racism (I’m looking at you, asshole taxi drivers and landlords), most of them are a misguided form of “omotenashi,” a.k.a. Japanese hospitality.

So I try very hard not to let it get to me, because I know that they don’t wish ill upon me. But I’ve worked so goddamn hard to learn this language and speak it well, and it is so frustrating for the people around me to assume that I can’t do what has been my freaking life goal. Or having people assume I can’t understand slightly difficult words and dumb down their language (Even colleagues I’ve worked with for two years now!). In the middle of a conversation they’ll say things like, “It’s hard to deal with that level of animosity--oh wait, omoi-no-hoka-san, sorry, ‘animosity’ means ‘dislike.’”

They mean it in a helpful way, but it just comes across as very condescending and I end up thinking, Oh, so they think my Japanese proficiency is so low i can’t understand that word. Which sends me into doubt over whether my language skills are actually that deficient, or whether I am speaking in a way that makes myself look at bad at Japanese.

The Effects of 特別扱い (Special Treatment)

It’s been gradual, but over the past two years, I have found myself withdrawing from the outside world. I got bad at replying to friend’s messages. I started making excuses to avoid meeting up and hanging out. I would buy all the groceries i needed to last me through the weekend on Friday after work and not emerge until Monday morning to go back to work. Even though I really love the outdoors and used to spend entire days just riding my bike along the river trails here.

...But in the past few months I’ve become unable to answer even close friends’ phone calls and messages. And I’ve even had a hard time phoning my parents, which is crazy because ever since I left home for uni I’ve called my mom on a daily basis. When I think about stepping outside of my apartment, no matter the reason or destination, I am gripped by a dread so strong I nearly throw up. I have gone a couple weekends without food because it would require me leaving my apartment to buy some, or paying for very expensive delivery which also means interacting with whoever is bringing me that food.

I’ve had a stressful summer and fall at work, and that undoubtedly has contributed to my current anxiety overload. But things have settled down at work for the past month now, and not only have I been given an award that only 2% of employees get globally, recently I have been in talks to take on what is very nearly a dream position for me within the company that is a BIG step up career-wise. I have great bosses who recognize my efforts, who listen to what I have to say, and do what they can to help when I tell them I’m in over my head.

But I have had several days where I have woken up, gotten ready for work, and just frozen at my apartment door, too sick at the thought of going outside. And yet, I can’t stand the thought of calling in sick because I feel chronic, self-imposed guilt when I take a day off, no matter the reason. So I call in to work and tell them I have a stomachache and will be in once it’s gone, (which isn’t an absolute lie), and then drag myself into work within a couple hours.

And once I enter the office, do the obligatory bow and apology for being late and causing inconveniences, the dread and anxiety vanish and I am fine until it is time for me to go outside to return home.

This makes me think that work is not a main stressor right now. It doesn’t matter if I’m going to the convenience store or the grocery store or work or anywhere. I think the constant being stared at everywhere I go has gradually accumulated to become a nasty form of social anxiety. I used to have panic attacks in middle school and high school due to home life, but since removing myself from that environment they’ve gone away. I’ve always been a socially-reserved person who shies away from the spotlight, and despite telling myself a thousand times, “Let them look at you--you’re just being you and they’re being them and that’s OKAY,” I just can’t brush it off. I have very, very seriously considered dyeing my hair from its natural brown to black in an effort to blend in, if only slightly. Which is laughable, but that’s just how much it bothers me to stand out.

But the event that really sounded the alarm for me was when my best friend of 10 years, a Japanese girl whom I met by chance my freshman year of uni, who was my roommate for 4 years of uni, who let me sleep on her living room floor here in Japan for 3 months until my work visa came through, who has been with me through thick and thin, sent me a message asking when she could drop off a souvenir for me and

I couldn’t bring myself to reply to her text.

That was when I very clearly knew that I was too deep in this funk to get myself out on my own, and I had to figure out how to get help.

Frankly, despite having struggled with panic attacks and anxiety in the past, I have never sought professional help. Until now, I never felt that my symptoms were so bad that they warranted medication. But the fact that i can’t contact my mother or my best friend, that I would rather not eat anything for two days instead of go outside, means that snorting essential oils and rubbing rose quartz against my temples or whatever isn’t going to be enough.

Mental Health Views in Japan

It’s not exactly a secret that the approach to mental health in Japan is “sweep it under the rug.” You do not talk about it. You may go to a doctor and receive medication, but you do not get counseling, because that involves talking about it. You do not tell your friends. You do not tell your family. You DEFINITELY do not tell your coworkers.

I saw my boss, T, fall into a very similar spiral to my own this summer. Stomach aches in the morning, coming in late, making excuses to get out of outings outside of work, not replying to messages, not sleeping well. And then one day he just vanished. Didn’t show up one Monday.

T wouldn’t respond to our messages so we had to contact his mother to get a hold of him. And once she had confirmed that she had spoken to him and scolded him for being “selfish” by skipping work, my coworkers were satisfied because, in their words, “Now that we know he’s still alive, we don’t have to worry.”

Honestly, that was one of the most fucked up reactions to any situation I have ever seen. I was shocked, because these coworkers truly cared for him, but their mutual reaction to this was to just...let him languish.

T announced to a select number of supervisors/colleagues that he had been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and would be stepping down from his position. He said that he had been diagnosed years ago, but had not disclosed it because he knew that he would never be promoted if anyone knew.

And that’s one of the big reasons that no one wants to talk about their mental illness here. In Japan, having a mental illness is a shameful thing. It shows that you’re weak, that you can’t keep up with everyone else, that you are flawed in a way that will adversely affect those around you at one point or another.

But my company really is a great company and the people in charge are progressive. T has a lot of great skills and experience, and they didn’t want to let him go. So they told him that they would find someone to fill his current role, but once he had rested and gotten better, they wanted him to come back and do a position that he used to do, one that he really shined in and enjoyed. And that is where he’s at now, and he’s doing much better for it.

So, having seen all of this unfold mere months ago, I grappled with how much I should tell my employers. The talk of this new and big position in Tokyo was underway, yet I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it unless I got better.

So I bit the bullet, and on the night that I couldn’t respond to my best friend’s text, I sent my boss a message, explaining my symptoms, how long they’d been going on, what I thought the causes were, and that I wanted to take the morning off to see a doctor about it sometime that week.

And I was really shocked by his reply.

This boss is the guy that filled T’s position, and i didn’t know him that well yet. As it turns out, he used to be a counselor before he joined this company. He told me that I could go to the doctor whenever I wanted, but that he also wanted to talk in person about this the next day.

The next day he called me into the conference room with one other manager, a guy I really trust and like. When T vanished, shit really hit the fan at the office and it was basically this manager and me keeping us afloat for the first couple weeks, so we’ve got a lot of camaraderie going. They asked me to talk more about what was going on, why I was feeling all this anxiety, etc.

And it was during this conversation that I saw the division between the traditional Japanese views of mental health and modern views of mental health.

When I explained to them both why I wanted to see a doctor and try medication, their reactions were mixed. My boss, the former counselor, said that if I thought it was best, trying out medication for a few weeks was a good idea.

The manager looked doubtful and said, “But do you really think that going to a doctor and getting pills from him will fix everything? If you’re diagnosed, what will your colleagues think? I thought you wanted that promotion.”

In that moment i felt intense fear and regret, as well as hurt. T had said that he had withheld his diagnosis for this very reason. A part of me had wanted to think it was paranoia on his part, but now I realized that he had been right to keep it a secret. This manager, whom I knew very well and trusted deeply, clearly was of the opinion that a diagnosis/medication = evidence of weakness.

So I ended up lying and telling them, “I’ll go to the doctor just to get some sleeping pills.” (I’ve been waking up every hour on the hour for a couple months now.) Sleeping pills aren’t frowned upon in Japan and the manager was pleased with this decision.

And after that manager left, I told my boss the truth, that i would be getting anti-anxiety meds as well because I really thought it was necessary, and that I would appreciate him not disclosing it unless he was required to, which he agreed to.

Seeing a Psychiatrist in Japan

So now i had to find a psychiatrist and make an appointment. A Google search provided me horrors. Below is an excerpt of a Google review of a certain mental health clinic in my city, and the record of the exchange between the doctor and reviewer (patient). I’m not going to translate it all because it’s long, but these are some highlights of the doctor’s words directly to the patient.

“You can’t sleep? I can’t sleep either. What, do you want some pills for it?”

“You can’t expect me to believe what a patient says.”

(After he made the patient cry) “You are being so difficult. Could you stop crying?”

He gives her medication, has silent nurses send her out to the waiting room where she continues to cry, and the doctor comes to the waiting room and says, “Could you hurry up and pay and leave?”

Having read this, I was filled with absolute fear. Maybe I was better off trying to fix this on my own after all.

But I kept searching, and I also learned that my city hall has a 心の相談窓口 (Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi), “Mind Consultation.” You can call them to learn information about what sorts of mental health facilities/options are available in your area. A very kind lady there informed me that it takes about 2-3 months to get in to any psychiatrist in this city, most of them do not take new patients, and that counseling is almost non-existent. Unless I was a harm to myself or others, I would have to wait. However, there was one general hospital in the city that had one psychiatrist staffed. This hospital has no reservation system whatsoever (very common in Japan) and takes a set number of patients in the morning and evening. I could try my luck to get in and see her.

So that was what i did, and I was able to see her on the first morning I went! I think the Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi lady made it sound harder to get into so I wouldn’t feel let down if it didn’t work out the first time I went.

Having read the horror story above, I had a lot of trepidation stepping into the exam room with her and two nurse secretaries. I had expected it to be a very clinical, dry exchange of symptoms and a sufficient prescription with a token お大事に。

And, more than anything, I had feared that she would say something like, “Maybe you should just go home to your own country where you wouldn’t stand out.”

But she asked me a wide range of questions, with none of them focusing on the fact that I was a gaijin: what my symptoms were, how long they’d been going on, what I had going on in my life, what work was like, past history of anxiety, etc., and she and the nurses all truly listened to what i had to say. It was clear that she cared about the underlying causes and me as a person.

She told me that it sounded like I was experiencing a buildup of stress and anxiety and that she wanted me to try a low dose of anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills for a week and then come back for another discussion.

That was 3 weeks ago. I’ve since been in the process of working with her to find the right combination of medication. Fun fact: they prescribe you Rohypnol (roofies) for sleeping meds in Japan if they deem your insomnia is serious enough. So. That is interesting.

Where I Am Now

I am keeping my boss informed of my condition and he is still very supportive. He seems to have informed his bosses of my tribulations to some extent, because they have gone out of their way to check in on me and see how I’m doing, which is very kind of them. Of course, they also know that i went above and beyond the call of duty for several months in a row until recently, and they could simply be asking because of that. Either way, I am touched that they would think of me, as I am a lowly translator for a lesser project and they are quite a ways up on the corporate ladder.

I am still in talks about taking on a very exciting position in Tokyo HQ, despite one of those bosses likely being aware of my situation to some extent. I used to dread the thought of Tokyo because I am a country girl who needs to see green, but recently I’ve come to the tough decision that I need to leave my beloved Japanese hometown, just like i left my American one. I love them, but I do not belong in them. I have visited the Tokyo HQ quite a few times, and there are a ton of foreigners in the area so I don’t stand out at all. I think that as long as I can live reasonably close enough to a park, I can satisfy my needs for nature while lessening my social anxiety.

I am having good days and bad days where it is still hard for me to leave the house. But I am having more good days than bad now. And today I was finally able to send a text message back to my best friend. Which really doesn’t seem like a lot, but it is a lot to me. My friend is supportive and understanding, which means the world to me.

I’m getting back to being me. 💗

p.s.: The gif at the top of this is from the anime Mushishi, which I think illustrates various mental illnesses and their effects in a very metaphoric way.

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Okay so last week was a shitkicker and was literally so bad I spent the better part of the week trying to delude myself into thinking it was a good day. Like, we're talking, "the sun is shining and I'm here to see it so today is a good day" and "I'm having a bad day- fuck me I am not haveing a bad day- I'm having a good day- I'm not having a bad day". Denial is a powerful tool for mental health, apply judiciously. I get that everyone on earth is kinda having a shitty year but it feels like things just kinda escalated in my little corner

The 7th had a huge snow storm that brought traffic to a stand still. No one could leave the house and university class was online anyway. Batshit customer demanded to pick up her gear anyway. I drove in because I was the only person with keys to the shop that could get to the building. It took me a solid 2 hours going 15mph on the highway. The snow in the parking lot was up past the fenders of my truck. Crazy lady gets 10 out of 18 of her survival suits back but the other 8 still have holes in them because our only repair tech is also the only one who answers the phone or runs the computer or handles customers or cleans or disinfects anything or stores gear. I'll give you one guess who that person is.

Did you guess me? Good for you. Fun fact this was not the case in October.

Crazy lady swans off through the snowed in parking lot and because she cant find the exit, blasts straight through the ditch and onto the road.

I say fuck it and leave. I've been at work for 2 hours. I have made 24 dollars for my trouble. It takes me another hour to get home.

The 8th is Saturday and I'm supposed to be at work. No one can drive. There was another 10 8nches of snow last night. I say fuck work and go to dig out the plow truck. The canopy over the plow truck collapses as I walk out to clear the snow of it.

I do not scream.

My partner and I get the truck running and go plow people out of their driveways and then go do the shop.

We come back home and the heater doesn't work. We just spent most of last week frantically trying to limp the thing along because no heat at -20°F is in a word fucking unpleasant. At least now its 40 degrees warmer because if the snowstorm. We take it apart again. The house smells like diesel. The house smells like exhaust. The house is not cold because the wood stove can keep up at 20 above zero but it won't keep us through the winter.

There is no saving the oil heater. We need a new one.

Its 730 and neither of us have eaten. I start rice in the pressure cooker so I can throw a tasty bite on top and call it dinner and that dies too. Explosively.

Dinner is half cooked rice and microwaved curry.

Sunday is spent finding a way to stretch our increasingly thin budget to buy a new heater. Between us we actually have 2275$ and we will still cover the mortgage. Somehow. All our Christmas gifts will be hand made this year. The next thing that breaks will stay broken.

Monday, power outages due to snow storm. No wifi, no zoom meetings. Another 8 inches of snow. This is now more snow than my city gets for the full year.

My boss calls sobbing. The dog died. Joey, an 11 year old, 130lb mastiff with a tumor the size of a football on his liver has been her constant companion for at least 8 years. The pandemic has confused the bejesus out of him because while he loves the lock down and going out to play every hour or so he doesnt really like the concept of strangers in masks. Hes a guard dog and doesnt understand that men in masks coming into the shop are not here to kill mom they're wearing masks so they don't kill mom.

Mondays the shop is closed anyway and I spend it installing the new heater. It doesn't quite fit in the space the old heater came out of but its warm.

Tuesday, I go to work, everyone cancels class, I once again gently explain to a regular that eugenics is bad. I would like to curse him out. I cant. He drops a grand on scuba gear and leaves, talking about how great his trip to Mexico will be.

I do not scream.

A friend calls to ask how I'm doing. Not great. Yea, her niether. She asks if I want to go out to the backcountry with her over the weekend. I explain that my leg physically does not move and I'm downing copious amounts of advil to remain upright. The doctor sent me in for an MRI but has not yet called back. Plus I'm supposed to go to Valdez for the weekend and actually go diving. That I can do with limited use of my leg.

She says yikes, take it easy, take care of yourself, I love you.

I say, yikes, I'm tired of taking it easy, I wanna play, I love you too.

Hit me up if your plans open up and we can do something gentle on your leg. She says.

God yes. The cold woods away from people sounds like paradise. I dont even care that it will cause me rending physical pain to get there. I need a break.

Its Wednesday. I go to school. I get pulled over. Miraculously I dont get a ticket. I'm white female and conventionaly attractive, maybe not so miraculous. I rolled through a stop sign but I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford a ticket.

I get a text in class. One of the instructors who works with the dive shop has tested positive for covid. I haven't seen the man in 2 months. I needed a spare instructor but he was nowhere to be found. But hey, evidently that's a good thing.

I go to work. I vacillate between doing the job a 4 people and having nothing to do.

I go to the grocery store because I misjudged my last monthly grocery run and even though I'm increasing my exposure I'm out of cheese and tea damnit.

The store is packed. Pandemic who?

My partner and I haven't had a date nite in a while and this week has been shitty. I want a nice dinner. I pick up a couple boxes of the carton sushi which isnt terrible and is about as nice as I can justify on the new budget. I grab a gallon of milk and a few other things. I forgot my wallet in the truck and the cashier is chill and sets my stuff aside while I grab it.

I pay and take my stuff home and realize I left one of my bags at the store. No cheese or tea for me.

Thursday. 10am my phone goes off with an emergency alert. The govoner has grown a spine in light of recent elections and is instituting a voluntary lock down. My state has 500 new cases a day. That might not sound like a lot but theres only 300,000 people in Alaska and we've got poor medical infrastructure.

Unfortunately Alaska is full of Alaskans and nobody can tell us what to do. Nothing changes. 7pm rolls around and I'm teaching scuba classes in the pool.

I load a few hundred pounds of scuba gear into the back of my truck. In a wet wetsuit. In the snow. In a fabric facemask. 6 feet apart. In the pool.

I dont get paid for pool time.

Over the summer we had 6 dive masters including me, all big burly dudes, much better suited to picking things up. Its November and I'm the only one.

The kids I'm teaching are going to Hawaii. They're 10 and 13 and so wildly excited about breathing underwater its beautiful to watch. And they're traveling to an island. In a pandemic.

Friday.

Unload scuba gear so it doesnt get stolen out of the back of my truck while I'm at class. Were doing a make up lab today. Hey of the five student in my class only one of us has covid so theres that.

My boss calls an let's me know that shes left for Valdez without me. If I'd like to make an 8 hour drive by myself in a snowstorm I'm welcome to follow.

I'm in class till an hour before shop closing. I'm not driving across town so I can run on the open sign for half an hour.

The shop stays closed on Friday.

Saturday.

I explained to everyone we had business with that the shop would be closed over the weekend and Friday. I planned on being in Valdez. Hell I canceled plans to be in Valdez.

I open the shop and immediately field calls about why we werent open. I start to explain about the Valdez trip and logistical difficulties and then I realize that shes not mad about that. The woman was here before I opened early this morning. We have never been open that early. The hours are on the door.

A regular comes in. Hes also confused as to why I'm here.

Sunday finds me curled up in bed, reluctant to leave. Getting out of bed has not played out well for me recently.

A friend comes over to chat with my partner about specialist rifle parts. This isnt that wierd, he works at a gun shop and they've been discussing upgrading my partners current rifle set up.

He is wearing a full Scottish kilt. Red tartan. Looks very lovely.

I make zucchini bread and my proportions are a little off because I have too much zucchini so it's a little over moist but it's good. I'm recovering from an asskicker of a week and next week will be better.

Monday morning:

Baby brother has covid

Dads getting the results of his rapid test tonight.

Mom isnt getting tested because she says she doesnt have symptoms but that's not the fucking point mom.

So, I'm not going home for thanksgiving. I'm not diving in Valdez. I'm not skiing backcountry.

I'm not sick. I'm not flat broke yet. I dont have a ticket. I have a job. I have people who care about me. Im managing my physical and mental health as best I can. Im just fucking exhausted.

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 39: Smooth Criminal - Part 1

20 MINUTES EARLIER…

A young man with a dark tan throws his arm around T’onga Kim’s shoulders, excitedly shouting in an English accent, “Hiya love, you wanna be appear on my PRANK CHANNEL?!!” 

In response, she silently clutches the bridge of the guy’s nose and twists it as if turning a key to a lock. It crunches, and a fountain of blood spills forth from his nostrils, followed swiftly by a wail of pain from his throat. No one bothers her after that. 

She had arrived at Anaheim shortly after Shizuka and her friends, having tailed them from Beverly Hills and kept a close eye on them. Shaded under the palm trees while people inside begin doubling over from the effect of Toto’s Stand, she reaches the Arena Plaza.

Before she can head inside the center, something zips past T’onga from behind, like a bullet, which she just barely dodges, before it perforates the pavement in front of her. She heard no gunshot. Upon closer inspection, she sees the object is not a bullet, but a stone. Just a tiny, loose piece of rock you might find in any gravel pit. Warily, she looks behind her to see where the shot came from, and spots the assailant immediately. 

A young black woman leans against a palm tree. Hanging from her right hand by their laces are a pair of knee-high roller skates. Her long dreadlocks frame a cheeky smirk on her face. “Knowles…!” T’onga exclaims, with exaggerated surprise. 

“T’onga,” the younger woman replies, before sauntering towards her supposed compatriot in crime. “What up?”

“‘What’s up?!’ What’re you trying to pull?!” T’onga yells, outraged, “You could’ve punctured my lung with that rock just now! What, you were trying to get my attention?! That’s fucked up!”

Knowles laughs. “Ha! I’m surprised you didn’t notice me ‘til now. Looks like you slippin’. If you ain’t careful, you’re gonna get killed one of these days.”

“Sure, sure, whatever. Excuse me for not being on my toes at all times. I figured that since I got a little time off, I could enjoy the convention without having to worry about work today!”

“You’re here for TubeCon? You?”

“Is there a problem with that? I happen to take an interest in some make-up channels, so I wanted to take a look.”

“Ha! With a face as fucked as yours, I guess you need all the help you can get!”

T’onga’s face turns sour. “... Is that referring to my scar, or my age?”

“Whichever you prefer,” Knowles replies. She saunters to the fountain in the centre of the plaza and sits down, then starts taking off her shoes. As T’onga watches, she replaces them with the roller skates, carefully tying up the long laces.

“... What about you?” T’onga asks after a moment, “Never figured you the type who likes vloggers.”

“I ain’t. But I do follow a buncha news channels,” say Knowles, keeping her attention on tying her shoes. “You gotta keep up to date somehow, and you can’t trust what the media puts out. Doesn’t matter, though, since I’m actually here on assignment.”

T’onga’s face goes pale for a moment, as she feigns surprise, “Is that so? Like, for Brother Dust? Hold on, is… is it safe for me to be here right now?”

“You tell me,” the younger woman replies, glancing up at her.

“Hey,” the scarred woman says, raising her hands defensively, “If you’re working, I don’t wanna get caught up in anything. I know Dust and All-Kill are staying out of each other’s ways at the moment. Last thing I need is an earful from All-Kill, you know?”

“T’onga,” Knowles says, pulling the knot of her skates tightly and standing to full height with a sneer, “I know you killed Phantasma. And I know you’re here to do the same to Dust.”

A cloud moves in the way of the sun, covering everything in shade for a moment. Convention goers continue on their idle path around the plaza, not paying any mind to the two women. Everything in T’onga Kim’s being tenses for a split second, before her composure returns.

“What…? What are you talking about?!” she exclaims, “Are you feeling alright?”

“Don’t lie to me,” Knowles demands, a face contorting into a strange kind of smirk. “All-Kill’s been planning to off Dust for years, ever since they first met. Soon as he got his hands on you, it was only a matter of time. I was left out here to wait for you so that wouldn’t happen.”

“Listen,” T’onga says in as benevolent a tone as she can produce, “Whatever Dust has told you isn’t any of my business, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here to check out the convention, that’s all. What you’re saying makes no sense! Sure, Dust and All-Kill got into some bad shit back in the day, but they’ve been partners for almost 20 years now! We’re on the same side!”

“That’s right. We are on the same side,” the younger woman says, sweeping the dreads off of her face. She rolls towards T’onga, keeping her eyes fixed on her face. “Dust is dealing with the Joestar princess right now in Convention Hall E, underground. Once he’s done with her, he’ll be coming after All-Kill. And he left me out here to guard the way in, for when you showed up.”

“Joestar?… Why are you telling me this?” she narrows her eyes.

“Why? Why? Why else?! Because I’m sick of that high and mighty son of a bitch! Just like you! You gotta be tired of All-Kill pushing you around, right, sister? You gotta be as tired as I am of being used by their kind!”

“‘Their kind’? What, priests?”

“NO, NOT PRIESTS!!” Knowles shouts, the volume of her voice suddenly shooting up, then dropping into a vitriolic growl. “Men. All my life, getting pushed around, hated on, oppressed by one man after another. They're the enemy, girl. They keep us down, because they're afraid of our power. They're so scared, they'll do anything to keep us down. But that's the trick, ain't it? We let them think we're quiet and obedient, prim little ladies. And then, soon as their backs are turned: that's when we hit them. But I don't need to tell you that, right? After your thing in Japan.”

T’onga’s expression turns momentarily into a scowl, but the look disappears almost instantly. “... So what do you want?”

“Same thing you want. Brother Dust dead.”

The scarred woman searches her eyes, and can find no lie in them. No doubt, just pure, hot-blooded conviction. “... Then would you mind checking if all the doors are shut in, where did you say? Hall E? Since it’s underground, there are no windows, but just to be on the safe side… I’m not saying I couldn’t have done it without you, but All-Kill will reward you for your assistance.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“... Huh?” T’onga blinks, then squints, then says it again. “What?!”

“Didn't I tell you?” Knowles says, her smirk turning into more of a snarl, “I'm sick and tired of being pushed round by these men. Even if I helped you now, all I'd get would be a position under All-Kill, another man. I'm done being oppressed. I'll kill Dust in my own time, sister, on my own terms.

Not to mention, you're the one that killed Phantasma. You thought I was just to let that go? I respected that woman more than anyone else in the fucking world. She stood against a world dominated by men, and spat in their faces. I'm gonna make you pay for taking her away.”

T’onga’s mind races. “…This doesn’t make any sense. If you’re going to kill me, then why would you bother telling me all this?!”

“You might be lying, treacherous scum, but you’re still a sister. You at least deserve an explanation before you die!” She rocks into a stance then, balancing perfectly on her roller skates. Knowles crosses her arms in front of her face, fists in front of her face, and yells “SMOOTH CRIMINAL!!”

A pair of white and shiny gloves appear on her hands, bedazzling like crystals, as she swings them down to her feet and slaps the roller skates.

Suddenly, the roar of an engine can be heard coming from her skates, as they blast away, Knowles heading straight towards T’onga. The pure speed and intensity catches T’onga off guard.

T’onga brings out HOUSE OF PAIN, but it’s too late as Knowles slams her fist in T’onga’s gut, the older gang member gagging. As she skates past, she reaches for the ground and turns her body, gearing up for another pass.

As T’onga turns to face her attacker, she gets punched in the face, sending her flying. She lands two feet away, at which point she raises her fists, trying to defend whenever Knowles comes back.

[fandom-oneshots-etc]

Sick and Stubborn

Hey guys,

So I saw the comment by @sassismything (so thanks for the idea!) and I just had to write a oneshot based on my imagine. So I hope it was what you expected! 

Thanks

Emily xoxo

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Reader Gender: Female

Word Count: 2447

Warnings: Sickness

 Dean Winchester was sick. It didn’t take a doctor’s diagnosis to see that. His skin had faded to a very light pale which was almost white as a sheet, and there were noticeable bags under his eyes. The constant sniffling was also a gentle reminder that flu season had come around, and from the sight of Dean, it seemed as if he had been caught right in the middle. You didn’t really need to look at Dean to know he was ill, it was easily noticeable from just laying in your room at night. Your room was relatively close to Dean’s and despite the distance between the two rooms and the thick walls, you could easily hear Dean throughout the night coughing and spluttering. You hadn’t really mentioned it at first, seeing how Dean wasn’t bothered by it, and having expected it to pass quite quickly, but as his condition was continuing to deteriorate you weren’t going to keep it hidden any longer. You knew Dean was sick. Sam knew Dean was sick. Even Castiel knew Dean was sick, but Dean didn’t seem to acknowledge it.

You had been with the Winchesters for a few years now, and you had seen Sam when he was ill and they had seen when you were ill, but it was a rare occurrence to see Dean ill. You pondered the idea that he had been sick before but had just chosen to keep it hidden. But that wasn’t happening this time.

 You weren’t sure if Dean had noticed, but you had been keeping a closer eye on the elder Winchester. You noted as he covered his coughing fit, claiming his beer had ‘gone down the wrong hole’, you watched as he slowed his steps occasionally, a dizzy spell washing over him. Sam knew what was going on, but didn’t acknowledge his brother’s attempts at hiding his side effects. He knew that Dean would power through and carry on his normal life like he usually did, even if he did continue to hunt in the process. You had been researching for a case over the past three days and you had finally gathered enough information to aid you in the hunt. You knew that the brothers would be packing their duffel bags and preparing to go and kill this thing, but you had other plans. You trusted Dean with all your heart and you knew that he would never do anything to intentionally bring harm to himself, his brother, or you. But with his condition continuously deteriorating, you feared that he wouldn’t be able to hold his own in the middle of a hunt. There was a sense in the pit of your stomach that he wouldn’t even be able to hold a gun straight, and that was backed up by the fact that he had knocked his shoulder on the door frame when leaving the kitchen a day prior.

 Leaning against one of the tables in the library you waited for the brothers to make an appearance, your arms crossed over your chest and your hair swung back over your shoulder. You knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to bench Dean on a hunt. He was Dean Winchester after all, one of the most stubborn men you had ever met in your life. But you were determined to make sure that Dean didn’t go on this hunt, even if you had to jump on his back and tie him to the pipework, you would make sure he didn’t leave. It wasn’t long before the brothers appeared, their duffel bags swung over their shoulders as they walked. You smiled politely upon their appearance, and with a split second, you grasped onto the handle of Dean’s duffel as he moved to walk past you, yanking the bag back and sliding it off his shoulder. For a second he seemed stumped as he turned back to look at you confused, watching as you laid his bag on the table behind you.

“What the hell?” he questioned, making Sam glance back at the pair of you.

“You’re not going,” you concluded, re-crossing your arms and waiting for him to argue back.

“What do you mean I’m not going?” he raised an eyebrow. “We’ve got a hunt, and we need to get going if we want to get there before dark.” he held his hand out, expecting you to hand him his bag back as if his words had made any difference, but they hadn’t.

“No, you’re not. You’re sick, Dean.” he narrowed his gaze ever so slightly. You couldn’t be certain if that was due to his annoyance or if the lights overhead were giving him a headache. “Sam can deal with this hunt without you. I already called Garth, he’s going to meet him there.” Dean looked ready to protest, but you caught him off guard as you reached over to snatched the keys out of his grip. Now you were a hundred per cent certain that he was too sick to hunt, his reaction to you stealing his keys was delayed by a good few seconds, and that was no good in an emergency.

“I’m not sick,” he argued. “I am perfectly fine to hunt.” you launched the keys over Dean’s head and into Sam’s grasp, making a face as Dean feebly attempted to catch them mid-air, only to fail miserably.

“You’re sick. You’re staying. Sam will call if he needs anything, right Sam?” Sam nodded and shrugged his shoulders gently as Dean turned to glare at him.

“Dean you say the same thing when I’m sick. Now it’s your turn to sit one out.” Sam ignored Dean’s failed attempts to protest as the elder Winchester glared at you weakly. You both watched as Sam disappeared from view, Dean kept his eyes narrowed at you as you pushed off from the table and moved to stand in front of him.

“Right, let’s get you into bed-” you grasped onto his arm, attempting to pull the elder Winchester in the right direction, but he didn’t budge, making you sigh. “Dean, come on.” he shook his head and moved to drop down in one of the chairs, opening one of the books that Sam had left on the table.

“Nope. I’m staying right here.” you crossed your arms once again, raising an eyebrow at the man, who was clearly acting like a child. “Don’t look at me like that. You wanted me to stay here, and I’m here. Doesn’t mean you get to treat me like an invalid.”

“Dean, I’m not trying to treat you like an invalid,” you sighed. “I’m trying to help you get better, so you can get your strength back.” Dean only glanced at you over the top of the book before returning to reading, turning the page every so often.

“Look, Sammy might need our help, and I can’t help him if I’m tucked up in bed like a kid.” you knew that Dean was stubborn. You had been dating him for little over a year now and he had shown his stubborn attitude on many occasions, but usually being patient got you further than trying to force him to do something he didn’t want to do.

“Fine.” you dropped down into one of the chairs on another table and pulled your phone out of your pocket. If he wanted to be stubborn then you’d let him.

 You flicked through your phone for about an hour, occasionally glancing up at the elder Winchester, looking for any signs of distress. Every time he coughed, you winced at the painful sound. It echoed through the bunker and only emphasised his sick state. It was just reaching the hour and a half mark when you noticed his eyes drooping. You knew for a fact that he had been losing sleep due to his midnight coughing fits, and it was clear that it had been taking a toll on his body. It was a little amusing to watch as Dean tried to fight off the sleep, his eyes drooping before opening wide once again. His hands reaching up to rub at his eyes, attempting to remove all trace of his exhaustion. The fact that he was trying to overcome his exhaustion, purely on the basis that he wanted to prove a point, was definitely somewhat adorable.

Another gut-wrenching cough ripped through his throat. It had definitely come from his chest and it was clear from the expression on his face that it was becoming more painful to deal with.

Finally, you had, had enough. Watching him wince every time he coughed and press a hand against his chest to ward off the oncoming ache, was painful for you. You stood from your seat, shuffling over to rest a hand on the elder Winchester’s shoulder, making your presence known. He looked up at you with tired eyes as he pressed his hand against his chest once again.

“Come on,” you gently tugged him. “Let’s get you into bed, alright?” it seemed that any argument he had in him had vanished at this point, the pain he was feeling overwhelming him. He gave a short nod, before standing from his seat and moving along behind you as you lead him through the corridors.

 Once in his room, he instantly dropped down on the bed, shuffling so his head was resting comfortably against the pillow and leaving one leg hanging off the side of the bed, the tip of his boot brushing against the wooden floor. “You need to get changed before you get comfortable,” you instructed, pulling a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants out of his drawers, laying them on the bed next to him. He stayed situated on the bed, not making any move to sit up and change. You sighed. “Come on, Dean. If you want to get comfortable, you need to change,” you urged. “If you don’t do it now, you’ll wake up later and have to do it then.” He groaned, but complied, sitting up on the bed, and bowing his head back so he could look up at you comfortably. “Do you want me to help?” you questioned, watching as he glared at the pile of clothes beside him.

“No. I can do it.” his voice was stern, but a little shaky as he spoke. It was clear he wanted to do it all himself to try and prove that he was fine. He bent forwards to undo his laces, kicking his boots off leaving them wherever they landed. He shuffled around, undoing his belt and beginning to slide his jeans down his legs, not getting up to remove them completely, but shaking them off the ends of his legs, once again leaving them wherever they landed. He pulled the sweatpants on with little issue, though the hoodie was another story. He had managed to pull it over his head, though his arm got caught in one of the sleeves and he couldn’t manage to get his arm through. You watched him struggle for a moment, seeing if he could deal with the situation himself before moving forward to help him. You pulled on the sleeve, sliding it to the side enough for Dean to slip his arm through, but he shook your hand off as he began to move his arm into the hole. “I said I can do it!” his voice was low and gruff, but there was a tone to it that told you his sinuses were now blocked.

“Dean, I’m trying to help. Quit acting like a two-year-old!” he glared at you for a moment, though seeing your slightly annoyed expression, his gaze softened.

 “I’m sorry,” he sighed. Your expression dropped. “I don’t mean to be difficult, honest.” his posture slumped. “I just… I’m not used to people helping me when I’m like this.”

“What do you mean?” your eyebrows furrowed. “You get sick like everyone else, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I just…” he shuffled. “After my Mom died, it was just Dad, Sam and me,” he began. “Dad was on hunts all the time, and it was my job to take care of Sammy. I never really took any notice when I got sick, I just powered through,” he adjusted his hoodie. “Sam was more important.” you looked down at your boyfriend sadly. You hated the way he had been brought up, you knew that he loved his Dad as much as any other child would, but you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that John had been more interested in hunting than his own kids. No child should have to take responsibility for his sibling at such a young age.

“Well, you haven’t got to do that anymore,” you dropped down to sit on the bed next to him. “I’m here now, and I’m happy to take care of you. Just like you take care of me.” you smiled at him softly, earning a similar smile in return as you helped him lay back on the bed. Before you could move out of the way to pull the sheet over Dean, he pulled you back down onto the bed next to him, allowing you to snuggle into his side, as he laid the covers over both of you. You were sure you heard him mutter a ‘thank you’ before his eyes slipped shut, allowing him to fall into a well-needed slumber.

[weirdstuff-blog]

Me and stephanie dancing up Christian

"ROB SIMS presents KellyMBentley.Com in 2008! "

Female 26 years old ATLANTA, Georgia United States

Last Login: 4/13/2008

I love models and everything to do with the glamour industry. I am seriously into photography. I love to dance and I am currently learning to sing. I am crazy in love with my American Pitt Bull Terrier "Layla" and I love spending time with her playing freesbee with her and my loving fiance Django. I love fast cars preferrably American Muscle. My favorite would be a Trans Am. Long live Cassondra

Music I love all types of music, but my favorite is Classic Rock including the Grateful Dead, Bob Dylan, Doors, Def Lepard, AC/DC, Primus, Nine Inch Nail all kinds of artists. I love dancing to hip-hop, but I really don’t have any favorites.

Movies I love chic flicks and cartoons. I’ve never really been a fan of horror flicks. My favs include Notebook, Ratatouille, Sweet Home Alabama, Youve Got Mail…you get where this is going.

Television I love reality shows. I was on the Coyote Ugly Reality Show but I hated it. My favorites shows include Pussycat dolls, ANTM, Ghost Hunters, Dirty Jobs, Rock of Love, Make me a Supermodel….well all of them except American Idol…hate that shit!!

Books I dont read anything but war books and Cosmopolitian magazine. Oh yea and the Bible of course. Heroes All of our American Military men and women especially those close to me….Andrew Goldman, Jason Edmondson, Chris Willis, and my sweet uncle Kurt. Love and appreciate you guys. If you have a friend or relative serving I send me their name and I will post it here to show my appreciation.

The Kelly M. Bentley ‘s Details

Status: In a Relationship Here for: Networking, Friends Orientation: Straight Hometown: Alabama Body type: Slim / Slender Ethnicity: White / Caucasian Zodiac Sign: Libra Smoke / Drink: No / No Education: College graduate Occupation: Model

The Kelly M. Bentley ‘s Schools Southern Union State Community College Wadley, AL Graduated: 2002 Student status: Alumni Degree: Associate’s Degree Major: Computer Science

2000 to 2002

The Kelly M. Bentley ‘s Companies NOPI Motorsports Atlanta, Georgia US Nopi Chic Model

Construction Cuties Atlanta, Georgia US

M Bentley Productions Atlanta, Georgia US

The Kelly M. Bentley is Taking Over the F*cking World!

The Kelly M. Bentley ‘s Latest Blog Entry [Subscribe to this Blog]

Rob Sims and Kelly Bentley 2008 (view more)

RIDE FOR LIFE…..Relay For Life Charity Event (view more)

Coyote Ugly Episode 5…Thank God its Over! (view more)

National Glamour Showcase Florida (view more)

Coyote Ugly Episode 4 (view more)

[View All Blog Entries]

The Kelly M. Bentley ‘s Blurbs About me: Its hard to describe myself because I am constantly changing. So to start, above all else, I am a bad ass bartender. I bartend at OPERA Nightclub here in Atlanta, Geogia. Its the biggest and hottest club in Atlanta. I also bartend at the Irish Bred Carrollton where I can fulfill my bar dancing passion to AC/DC, Buckcherry (Crazy biotch!), and Def Lepard. I love serving up cocktails with a little sassy shake some come by either place and check me out!!

Second, I am a model and one of the hottest female entrepreneurs on this planet. In modeling, I specialize in glamour, fitness, and promotional modeling. I always have something going on somewhere. I’m partnering up with NOPI as a NOPI CHIC for 2008. I love doing charity work so keep updated on my events and help us out. As an entrepreneur, I own half of a calendar production company with JM Polsfuss that is responsible for the hottest calendar coming out in 2009 Construction Cuties. Watch for it!! I also just teamed up with get this…yes…The Rob Sims….which we will have my website launched by the end of Spring to help heat up the summer for you. Also watch for all the magazine covers, layouts, spreads, etc. coming soon…I told you guys I’ll be taking over the WORLD!! Lastly, I am a regular girl that had a dream and am still forcing it to come true come hell or high water. I’m from a small town, but I’m working hard to fulfill my big city dreams as well as those of other girls who want to be models with MODELICIOUS. So if you want to try modeling, don’t listen to people when they tell you that you cant do it, they said I couldn’t, and I look at me…so don’t listen, contact me and lets see what we can do. I DONT DO ANYTHING FOR FREE….so don’t ask. I have a small network of professional models I use and promote because they have become friends. Don’t ask for my contacts, because I work hard in promoting and networking myself so why should I just hand over my hard work to you. If you want my network, you pay for my network.

THINGS YOU WOULDN’T GUESS ABOUT ME: No one would ever guess that I used to be in the Army National Guard. I used to be on Active Reserve as the RA for SFC Robert Cornett. I got out in 2005. I also used to wiegh 170 lbs. I gained a huge amount of weight when I quit drinking and smoking. Yea a lot of you thought it would never happen. I quit cold turkey and the turkey went to my ass. I lost 50 lbs. on the Subway diet. I was recently on the Coyote Ugly Reality Show on CMT and hated every minute. I also have a degree in Political Science and Computer Science with a minor in Military Science. Just some cool quirks about me. TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF – The Survey Name: Kelly M Bentley Birthday: October 7th Birthplace: Anniston, Alabama Current Location: Atlanta, Georgia Eye Color: Green Hair Color: Blonde/Brunette..hell I don’t know Height: 5’5" if I’d stand up straight Right Handed or Left Handed: Right Your Heritage: Irish/German &..39;The Shoes You Wore Today:’ My beloved flip flops Your Weakness: Your Fears: airplanes, elevators, and scurrying vermon Your Perfect Pizza: cheese/pepperoni without any sauce Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: Be at 8% Body Fat by the end of the year Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger: I dont even know how to set that shit up… Thoughts First Waking Up: What in the hell are the Backyardigans? Your Best Physical Feature: My big ghetto booty Your Bedtime: When ever my mind decides to quit thinking Your Most Missed Memory: No clue..too much memory lost Pepsi or Coke: Caffeine free coke MacDonalds or Burger King: both are some nasty shit…I dont put it in my body! Single or Group Dates: Cant remember my last date… Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: I don’t drink any tea Chocolate or Vanilla: Just hand over the chocolate and no one gets hurt Cappuccino or Coffee: Caffeine free Coffee Do you Smoke: hell no Do you Swear: I swear I cuss too much Do you Sing: Did you catch my show? Think I’ll stick to the shower. Do you Shower Daily: more than once Have you Been in Love: Only twice for sure Do you want to go to College: Been there done that Do you want to get Married: Umm….when I’m too old to know better Do you belive in yourself: more than anyother person besides Roy Do you get Motion Sickness: Do you think you are Attractive: No but others tend to disagree Are you a Health Freak: Absolutely Do you get along with your Parents: depends on the day of the week Do you like Thunderstorms: love them Do you play an Instrument: In the past month have you Drank Alcohol: don’t drink alcohol In the past month have you Smoked: I quit when I was 20 In the past month have you been on Drugs: hell no drugs are for weak people In the past month have you gone on a Date: I havent gone on a date in the past few years In the past month have you gone to a Mall: No..I hate the mall..I’m in need of another personal shopper In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos: yea right…my trainer would shoot me In the past month have you eaten Sushi: I don’t eat fish In the past month have you been on Stage: too many times In the past month have you been Dumped: No In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping: I wish In the past month have you Stolen Anything: No but someone stole two of my damned portfolios Ever been Drunk: Plastered on many occassions Ever been called a Tease: What girl hasnt Ever been Beaten up: No but I got launched off some steps one time Ever Shoplifted: no I only steal hearts How do you want to Die: at 200mph on the Autobahn What do you want to be when you Grow Up: I’m doing it but not grown up yet What country would you most like to Visit: Ireland In a Boy/Girl.. Favourite Eye Color: Any that don’t lie Favourite Hair Color: any that I can run my fingers through Short or Long Hair: either Height: all heights Weight: weight doesn’t matter Best Clothing Style: clothes dont make the man Number of Drugs I have taken: Don’t do drugs Number of CDs I own: not too many Number of Piercings: ears and belly button Number of Tattoos: 1 Number of things in my Past I Regret: only 1…if you know me you know what it is

CREATE YOUR OWN! – or – GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS!

Myspace Layouts – Myspace Editor – Image Hosting

Who I’d like to meet: TO ALL MODELS AND PHOTOGRAPHERS: Now that I am partnered up with Robs Sims who is the most published photographer on the planet also owner of FitBeauties and FitModels International Magazines, photographer for Oxygen, MuscleMag, InStyle, American Curves, Maxim, FHM, Mens Health…okay I’m tired already. Too many to list. Google him for the rest…lol. Rob and I will be offering photoshoots to ambitious models with the guarantee to be published. Yes there is a catch. 1)like I said I don’t do anything for FREE 2) Neither does he 3) you have to be approved by me first. Sorry ladies…I have to be picky. Feel free to submit to me for shoots with Rob. I will be honest and give you feedback. WE ARE THE ONLY ONES THAT CAN GUARANTEE YOU PUBLICATION IN MAJOR MAGAZINES.

Posted by dcsmith2752002 on 2008-06-23 13:19:11

Tagged: , KELLY , M , BENTLEY , IN , ATLANTA , GA , NIGHT , LIFE , BASIC , BLACK , FORMAL-WEAR , AND , CASUAL , -WEAR , ATTIRES

The post Me and stephanie dancing up Christian appeared first on Good Info.

[gnostix1]

in our time

by ernest hemingway

  chapter 1

Everybody was drunk. The whole battery was drunk going along the road in the dark. We were going to the Champagne. The lieutenant kept riding his horse out into the fields and saying to him, “I’m drunk, I tell you, mon vieux. Oh, I am so soused.” We went along the road all night in the dark and the adjutant kept riding up alongside my kitchen and saying, “You must put it out. It is dangerous. It will be observed.” We were fifty kilometers from the front but the adjutant worried about the fire in my kitchen. It was funny going along that road. That was when I was a kitchen corporal.

  chapter 2

The first matador got the horn through his sword hand and the crowd hooted him out. The second matador slipped and the bull caught him through the belly and he hung on to the horn with one hand and held the other tight against the place, and the bull rammed him wham against the wall and the horn came out, and he lay in the sand, and then got up like crazy drunk and tried to slug the men carrying him away and yelled for his sword but he fainted. The kid came out and had to kill five bulls because you can’t have more than three matadors, and the last bull he was so tired he couldn’t get the sword in. He couldn’t hardly lift his arm. He tried five times and the crowd was quiet because it was a good bull and it looked like him or the bull and then he finally made it. He sat down in the sand and puked and they held a cape over him while the crowd hollered and threw things down into the bull ring.

  chapter 3

Minarets stuck up in the rain out of Adrianople across the mud flats. The carts were jammed for thirty miles along the Karagatch road. Water buffalo and cattle were hauling carts through the mud. No end and no beginning. Just carts loaded with everything they owned. The old men and women, soaked through, walked along keeping the cattle moving. The Maritza was running yellow almost up to the bridge. Carts were jammed solid on the bridge with camels bobbing along through them. Greek cavalry herded along the procession. Women and kids were in the carts crouched with mattresses, mirrors, sewing machines, bundles. There was a woman having a kid with a young girl holding a blanket over her and crying. Scared sick looking at it. It rained all through the evacuation.

  chapter 4

We were in a garden at Mons. Young Buckley came in with his patrol from across the river. The first German I saw climbed up over the garden wall. We waited till he got one leg over and then potted him. He had so much equipment on and looked awfully surprised and fell down into the garden. Then three more came over further down the wall. We shot them. They all came just like that.

  chapter 5

It was a frightfully hot day. We’d jammed an absolutely perfect barricade across the bridge. It was simply priceless. A big old wrought iron grating from the front of a house. Too heavy to lift and you could shoot through it and they would have to climb over it. It was absolutely topping. They tried to get over it, and we potted them from forty yards. They rushed it, and officers came out alone and worked on it. It was an absolutely perfect obstacle. Their officers were very fine. We were frightfully put out when we heard the flank had gone, and we had to fall back.

  chapter 6

They shot the six cabinet ministers at half-past six in the morning against the wall of a hospital. There were pools of water in the courtyard. There were wet dead leaves on the paving of the courtyard. It rained hard. All the shutters of the hospital were nailed shut. One of the ministers was sick with typhoid. Two soldiers carried him downstairs and out into the rain. They tried to hold him up against the wall but he sat down in a puddle of water. The other five stood very quietly against the wall. Finally the officer told the soldiers it was no good trying to make him stand up. When they fired the first volley he was sitting down in the water with his head on his knees.

  chapter 7

Nick sat against the wall of the church where they had dragged him to be clear of machine gun fire in the street. Both legs stuck out awkwardly. He had been hit in the spine. His face was sweaty and dirty. The sun shone on his face. The day was very hot. Rinaldi, big backed, his equipment sprawling, lay face downward against the wall. Nick looked straight ahead brilliantly. The pink wall of the house opposite had fallen out from the roof, and an iron bedstead hung twisted toward the street. Two Austrian dead lay in the rubble in the shade of the house. Up the street were other dead. Things were getting forward in the town. It was going well. Stretcher bearers would be along any time now. Nick turned his head carefully and looked down at Rinaldi. “Senta Rinaldi. Senta. You and me we’ve made a separate peace.” Rinaldi lay still in the sun breathing with difficulty. “Not patriots.” Nick turned his head carefully away smiling sweatily. Rinaldi was a disappointing audience.

  chapter 8

While the bombardment was knocking the trench to pieces at Fossalta, he lay very flat and sweated and prayed oh jesus christ get me out of here. Dear jesus please get me out. Christ please please please christ. If you’ll only keep me from getting killed I’ll do anything you say. I believe in you and I’ll tell everyone in the world that you are the only thing that matters. Please please dear jesus. The shelling moved further up the line. We went to work on the trench and in the morning the sun came up and the day was hot and muggy and cheerful and quiet. The next night back at Mestre he did not tell the girl he went upstairs with at the Villa Rossa about Jesus. And he never told anybody.

  chapter 9

At two o’clock in the morning two Hungarians got into a cigar store at Fifteenth Street and Grand Avenue. Drevitts and Boyle drove up from the Fifteenth Street police station in a Ford. The Hungarians were backing their wagon out of an alley. Boyle shot one off the seat of the wagon and one out of the wagon box. Drevetts got frightened when he found they were both dead. Hell Jimmy, he said, you oughtn’t to have done it. There’s liable to be a hell of a lot of trouble.

—They’re crooks ain’t they? said Boyle. They’re wops ain’t they? Who the hell is going to make any trouble?

—That’s all right maybe this time, said Drevitts, but how did you know they were wops when you bumped them?

Wops, said Boyle, I can tell wops a mile off.

  chapter 10

One hot evening in Milan they carried him up onto the roof and he could look out over the top of the town. There were chimney swifts in the sky. After a while it got dark and the searchlights came out. The others went down and took the bottles with them. He and Ag could hear them below on the balcony. Ag sat on the bed. She was cool and fresh in the hot night.

Ag stayed on night duty for three months. They were glad to let her. When they operated on him she prepared him for the operating table, and they had a joke about friend or enema. He went under the anæsthetic holding tight on to himself so that he would not blab about anything during the silly, talky time. After he got on crutches he used to take the temperature so Ag would not have to get up from the bed. There were only a few patients, and they all knew about it. They all liked Ag. As he walked back along the halls he thought of Ag in his bed.

Before he went back to the front they went into the Duomo and prayed. It was dim and quiet, and there were other people praying. They wanted to get married, but there was not enough time for the banns, and neither of them had birth certificates. They felt as though they were married, but they wanted everyone to knew about it, and to make it so they could not lose it.

Ag wrote him many letters that he never got until after the armistice. Fifteen came in a bunch and he sorted them by the dates and read them all straight through. They were about the hospital, and how much she loved him and how it was impossible to get along without him and how terrible it was missing him at night.

After the armistice they agreed he should go home to get a job so they might be married. Ag would not come home until he had a good job and could come to New York to meet her. It was understood he would not drink, and he did not want to see his friends or anyone in the States. Only to get a job and be married. On the train from Padova to Milan they quarrelled about her not being willing to come home at once. When they had to say good-bye in the station at Padova they kissed good-bye, but were not finished with the quarrel. He felt sick about saying good-bye like that.

He went to America on a boat from Genoa. Ag went back to Torre di Mosta to open a hospital. It was lonely and rainy there, and there was a battalion of arditi quartered in the town. Living in the muddy, rainy town in the winter the major of the battalion made love to Ag, and she had never known Italians before, and finally wrote a letter to the States that theirs had been only a boy and girl affair. She was sorry, and she knew he would probably not be able to understand, but might some day forgive her, and be grateful to her, and she expected, absolutely unexpectedly, to be married in the spring. She loved him as always, but she realized now it was only a boy and girl love. She hoped he would have a great career, and believed in him absolutely. She knew it was for the best.

The Major did not marry her in the spring, or any other time. Ag never got an answer to her letter to Chicago about it. A short time after he contracted gonorrhea from a sales girl from The Fair riding in a taxicab through Lincoln Park.

  chapter 11

In 1919 he was travelling on the railroads in Italy carrying a square of oilcloth from the headquarters of the party written in indelible pencil and saying here was a comrade who had suffered very much under the whites in Budapest and requesting comrades to aid him in any way. He used this instead of a ticket. He was very shy and quite young and the train men passed him on from one crew to another. He had no money, and they fed him behind the counter in railway eating houses.

He was delighted with Italy. It was a beautiful country he said. The people were all kind. He had been in many towns, walked much and seen many pictures. Giotto, Masaccio, and Piero della Francesca he bought reproductions of and carried them wrapped in a copy of Avanti. Mantegna he did not like.

He reported at Bologna, and I took him with me up into the Romagna where it was necessary I go to see a man. We had a good trip together. It was early September and the country was pleasant. He was a Magyar, a very nice boy and very shy. Horthy’s men had done some bad things to him. He talked about it a little. In spite of Italy, he believed altogether in the world revolution.

—But how is the movement going in Italy? he asked.

—Very badly, I said.

—But it will go better, he said. You have everything here. It is the one country that everyone is sure of. It will be the starting point of everything.

At Bologna he said good-bye to us to go on the train to Milano and then to Aosta to walk over the pass into Switzerland. I spoke to him about the Mantegnas in Milano. No, he said, very shyly, he did not like Mantegna. I wrote out for him where to eat in Milano and the addresses of comrades. He thanked me very much, but his mind was already looking forward to walking over the pass. He was very eager to walk over the pass while the weather held good. The last I heard of him the Swiss had him in jail near Sion.

  chapter 12

They whack whacked the white horse on the legs and he knee-ed himself up. The picador twisted the stirrups straight and pulled and hauled up into the saddle. The horse’s entrails hung down in a blue bunch and swung backward and forward as he began to canter, the monos whacking him on the back of his legs with the rods. He cantered jerkily along the barrera. He stopped stiff and one of the monos held his bridle and walked him forward. The picador kicked in his spurs, leaned forward and shook his lance at the bull. Blood pumped regularly from between the horse’s front legs. He was nervously wobbly. The bull could not make up his mind to charge.

  chapter 13

The crowd shouted all the time and threw pieces of bread down into the ring, then cushions and leather wine bottles, keeping up whistling and yelling. Finally the bull was too tired from so much bad sticking and folded his knees and lay down and one of the cuadrilla leaned out over his neck and killed him with the puntillo. The crowd came over the barrera and around the torero and two men grabbed him and held him and some one cut off his pigtail and was waving it and a kid grabbed it and ran away with it. Afterwards I saw him at the café. He was very short with a brown face and quite drunk and he said after all it has happened before like that. I am not really a good bull fighter.

  chapter 14

If it happened right down close in front of you, you could see Villalta snarl at the bull and curse him, and when the bull charged he swung back firmly like an oak when the wind hits it, his legs tight together, the muleta trailing and the sword following the curve behind. Then he cursed the bull, flopped the muleta at him, and swung back from the charge his feet firm, the muleta curving and each swing the crowd roaring.

When he started to kill it was all in the same rush. The bull looking at him straight in front, hating. He drew out the sword from the folds of the muleta and sighted with the same movement and called to the bull, Toro! Toro! and the bull charged and Villalta charged and just for a moment they became one. Villalta became one with the bull and then it was over. Villalta standing straight and the red kilt of the sword sticking out dully between the bull’s shoulders. Villalta, his hand up at the crowd and the bull roaring blood, looking straight at Villalta and his legs caving.

  chapter 15

I heard the drums coming down the street and then the fifes and the pipes and then they came around the corner, all dancing. The street full of them. Maera saw him and then I saw him. When they stopped the music for the crouch he hunched down in the street with them all and when they started it again he jumped up and went dancing down the street with them. He was drunk all right.

You go down after him, said Maera, he hates me.

So I went down and caught up with them and grabbed him while he was crouched down waiting for the music to break loose and said, Come on Luis. For Christ sake you’ve got bulls this afternoon. He didn’t listen to me, he was listening so hard for the music to start.

I said, Don’t be a damn fool Luis. Come on back to the hotel.

Then the music started up again and he jumped up and twisted away from me and started dancing. I grabbed his arm and he pulled loose and said, Oh leave me alone. You’re not my father.

I went back to the hotel and Maera was on the balcony looking out to see if I’d be bringing him back. He went inside when he saw me and came downstairs disgusted.

Well, I said, after all he’s just an ignorant Mexican savage.

Yes, Maera said, and who will kill his bulls after he gets a cogida?

We, I suppose, I said.

Yes, we, said Maera. We kills the savages’ bulls, and the drunkards’ bulls, and the riau-riau dancers’ bulls. Yes. We kill them. We kill them all right. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  chapter 16

Maera lay still, his head on his arms, his face in the sand. He felt warm and sticky from the bleeding. Each time he felt the horn coming. Sometimes the bull only bumped him with his head. Once the horn went all the way through him and he felt it go into the sand. Someone had the bull by the tail. They were swearing at him and flopping the cape in his face. Then the bull was gone. Some men picked Maera up and started to run with him toward the barriers through the gate out the passage way around under the grand stand to the infirmary. They laid Maera down on a cot and one of the men went out for the doctor. The others stood around. The doctor came running from the corral where he had been sewing up picador horses. He had to stop and wash his hands. There was a great shouting going on in the grandstand overhead. Maera wanted to say something and found he could not talk. Maera felt everything getting larger and larger and then smaller and smaller. Then it got larger and larger and larger and then smaller and smaller. Then everything commenced to run faster and faster as when they speed up a cinematograph film. Then he was dead.

  chapter 17

They hanged Sam Cardinella at six o’clock in the morning in the corridor of the county jail. The corridor was high and narrow with tiers of cells on either side. All the cells were occupied. The men had been brought in for the hanging. Five men sentenced to be hanged were in the five top cells. Three of the men to be hanged were negroes. They were very frightened. One of the white men sat on his cot with his head in his hands. The other lay flat on his cot with a blanket wrapped around his head.

They came out onto the gallows through a door in the wall. There were six or seven of them including two priests. They were carrying Sam Cardinella. He had been like that since about four o’clock in the morning.

While they were strapping his legs together two guards held him up and the two priests were whispering to him. “Be a man, my son,” said one priest. When they came toward him with the cap to go over his head Sam Cardinella lost control of his sphincter muscle. The guards who had been holding him up dropped him. They were both disgusted. “How about a chair, Will?” asked one of the guards, “Better get one,” said a man in a derby hat.

When they all stepped back on the scaffolding back of the drop, which was very heavy, built of oak and steel and swung on ball bearings, Sam Cardinella was left sitting there strapped tight, the younger of the two priests kneeling beside the chair. The priest skipped back onto the scaffolding just before the drop fell.

  chapter 18

The king was working in the garden. He seemed very glad to see me. We walked through the garden. This is the queen, he said. She was clipping a rose bush. Oh how do you do, she said. We sat down at a table under a big tree and the king ordered whiskey and soda. We have good whiskey anyway, he said. The revolutionary committee, he told me, would not allow him to go outside the palace grounds. Plastiras is a very good man I believe, he said, but frightfully difficult. I think he did right though shooting those chaps. If Kerensky had shot a few men things might have been altogether different. Of course the great thing in this sort of an affair is not to be shot oneself!

It was very jolly. We talked for a long time. Like all Greeks he wanted to go to America.  

[bi-any-chance]

Unnamed Story: Chapter 1

(a first draft 😶, here it is)

My name is Dylan Anstey. I’m eighteen, a senior in high school, and today is the day I plan on coming out to my dad – for real this time.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” my best friend Quinn asks me when I tell him, “Your dad doesn’t seem very accepting. Not to mention the fact that this is exactly what you said the last seventeen times you said you were going to tell him you’re bi.”

“Thanks for calling me out like that, Quinn.” I grumble, Quinn responding, “Dude, you know I just don’t want anything to happen to you. You shouldn’t feel the need to come out to anyone until you’re absolutely ready.” Quinn looks at me with those big beautiful blue eyes of his, sincerely worried about me. The boy is gorgeous both inside and out, it’s no wonder I’ve had a crush on him since we were fifteen. Those eyes, his kindness, and now that we’re older, his– face. Yes, face. That is totally where I was going with that… yeah. But alas (who am I, Shakespeare now? Alas?), Quincy Rose is as straight as a ruler – and unfortunately for me, not one of those bendy rulers.

“I’m tired of hiding part of myself.” I say, “It is so hard not to say ‘I met this super cute guy today!’ when he asks me how I’m doing. I might not be ready, but I need to tell my dad. I mean, my senior prom is tomorrow, and he doesn’t even know I’m going because he doesn’t know you’re my date because he doesn’t know I’m bisexual.”

Okay, quick pause. I know I said Quinn was as straight as a ruler, and not the bendy kind. The reason he asked me to prom is because my boyfriend broke-up with me a few months ago. I was absolutely heartbroken, so Quinn, being the sweetheart he is, decided to cheer me up with a friend-prom-posal. Yeah, I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming after that.

“I can only imagine.” Quinn sighs, “Well my dude, no matter what happens, you know I’m here for you. Always.”

Quinn isn’t exaggerating. When my ex and I broke up, Quinn was the one who got me through it. He checked in with me every few hours when he wasn’t with me, he made sure I ate every day, he forced me to get out of bed to get showered (I only gave in because he said if I didn’t get up and get a shower, he was going to pull me out of bed and shower me himself. I had to get out of there fast after that comment).

I smile at my best friend, trying not to think about how badly I want to kiss him right now. We are only inches apart, sprawled out on my bed. His leg was touching mine, which isn’t unusual when we hang out, and as always, I was hyper-aware of his every movement, and the warmth where his body touched mine.

“Don’t you have to get home for supper or something?” I ask, not that I wanted him to leave, “My dad should be home soon, and you probably don’t want to be here when I come out to him.”

“Dylan, are you sure you don’t want me here for moral support?” Quinn checks, “If your dad does take it poorly, you might need someone to be there for ya. And you know I will always be available to be that someone.”

“I’ll be fine.” I promise, “If not, I’ll call you. Okay?”

Quinn sighs, “Fine, but call me either way. Deal?”

“Deal.”

With Quinn gone, I hop into bed and look up at the ceiling. Millions of lil dots decorated it, black specks in a sea of white, like a reverse outer space. My dad gets out of work at five, drives fifteen minutes, and is always home no later than 5:20 pm. I look at my phone. It is 5:02. Eighteen minutes to mentally prepare myself to tell my dad two life-changing words: I’m bisexual. Quinn is right when he says my dad doesn’t seem very accepting. In fact, the last time I saw my dad encounter something gay, the look of disgust on his face was a knife to my heart.

At a quarter after five, I hear the front door. Dad’s home. I’m so not fucking ready for this, but I go downstairs anyway. My dad is in the living room taking off his jacket when I pop around the corner. “No, I don’t know what’s for supper.” he says to me before I even speak, “I just walked in the door.”

“Not what I wanted.” I reply, instantly feeling an invisible hand clench around my heart, “I have something really important to tell you.”

He turns to face me, confused. “What did you do?”

“It isn’t what I did, it’s who I am.” I gulp, the invisible hand tightening its grip, “I’m bisexual.”

“You’re what?” my dad asks, “Bisexual? What the fuck does that even mean?” I think that question is rhetorical. “Bisexual?!” he yells, as I back up and say, “I like cute people?”

He draws his hand to his forehead, clearly disturbed. “Are you telling me you find men attractive?” he whispers.

I nod.

“I can’t believe it.” he sighs, “That is so disgusting, Dylan. Why?!”

“It’s just who I am!” I say, trying not to cry as the invisible hand crushes my heart completely, “I like guys!”

“No, no!” my dad shouts, “You need help.”

“I don’t need help!”

“You need help!” he repeats, stepping towards me, “Dylan, this isn’t normal. It’s some kind of disease. You are sick!”

“No, I am not.” I reply, “I love who I love, and it is as simple as that. You just need to accept it!”

“I, and listen to me son, I will never accept you if you choose this gross lifestyle.”

I take a breath. “I hate you!” I scream, storming towards the door as my father steps in the way and shoves me back. “You have no right to say that!” he snaps at me, raising his hand and smacking me in the face. And I expect to fall, or to at least feel the pain, but I don’t. I open my eyes and see myself, watery-eyed and wincing in pain. My hand stings. I look down at my dad’s shoes, on my feet. My dad’s pants, on my legs. I look at my hands, my now old and calloused hands. Oh my fucknuggets. I have literally become my father!

And I’m assuming my dad, in my body, came to that exact realization too, because now we were both screaming. Loud.

“Dylan, what did you do?!” my dad shrieked with my voice, “Is this some kind of trick?!”

“I hope so!” I exclaim, my voice deeper. My voice was my dad’s voice. My words, his voice. “Wait a minute.” I smirk, “I just, I want to hear your voice say something.”

“Oh no.” my dad gulps.

“I am an idiot. I am a hateful bigot. I am sorry, Dylan, I wish I was gay.” I say, my dad getting angry, “Bisexuality is real and lovely in every way! Gay rights! Lesbian rights! Trans rights! Love is love and I love a man!”

“Shut up!” my dad orders with my voice, “Fine. I am a faggot that needs to get over myself and realize that men are meant to be with women and that so-called ‘gay love’ is idiotic!”

“Fuck, tell me how you really feel!” I shout.

“I wish all homosexuals would burn in Hell!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I demand to know, “How can you think something like that?! Mom would never have put up with that!”

“Well, your mother is no longer with us, Dylan.” my dad whispers, “Forget this. We have more pressing matters at hand. We need to get this situation straight, unlike me.” My dad quickly covers his mouth in shock as I laugh. “Guess I left my inability to resist a gay joke in my body.” I taunted, “Have fun with that, my bisexual son.”

“I am NOT bisexual!” my dad huffs, “And you shouldn’t be! Now stop goofing around and help me figure out how to undo this body swap nightmare.”

I look at my dad and suggest that since a slap switched us the first time, maybe another would switch us back. “You think so?” my dad asks.

“Nope!” I chirp in reply, smacking him across the face, “I just really wanted to smack ya with my big meaty man-hand.”

“Ow!” he yelps, “You know you’re probably going to bruise now, right?!”

“Totally worth it.” I respond, “Anyway, now we can try and figure out how to switch back.”

“Shit!” my dad curses, “Actually, YOU can try and figure it out. I have a report to finish for work tomorrow, and will definitely lose my job if I don’t turn it in.”

“And what if I can’t figure it out?” I ask, “Smarty pants.”

“Then you are presenting my report at work tomorrow to the Board of Directors.”

“Well, you also better be ready.” I say, “Quinn and I are going to prom together. As friends, because he’s straight as fuck, but still. Tomorrow is your tuxedo-fitting with him in the morning, and prom is that evening at 7.”

“I will NOT go to a prom with a guy!” my dad growls, “In fact, the only thing I am going to do for you is call Quinn and tell him that prom is off!”

“Wait!” I yelp as my dad takes out my phone, “You are going to call him, but you are going to tell him that you were a hard-ass when I came out and that you are heartbroken your dad doesn’t accept you for who you are! Or I promise you, father, I will go into that Board of Directors meeting and tell them they can all fuck themselves. And then I will tell every female at work how much of a douche-canoe I am. And then tell them they look like crap. I will ruin your precious reputation faster than you can say ‘bisexual’. Got it?!”

My dad just swallowed hard and called Quinn.

[youalien]

i am very tired i worked two weeks straight, nothing feels good or interesting except reading. i think i just want to be a substitute teacher and travel the country in a RV and take pictures and film stuff on off time. I’d work in a restaurant honestly for a long while more if it paid more money. I don’t think I need the glory, as long as I have the means and resources to publish my photos. If i have time to become a better writer and publish short stories and maybe make a very low-budget film/documentary. everything feels very intensified right now, memories, the season changing, human interactions. I never want to be with anyone and that leaves me a little lonely but that’s okay. In terms of romance, i’ve dated/seen many kind men and it’s weird and a little sad to see them moving on and getting girlfriends because I couldn’t commit. Of course, I am happy they are happy and I surely was not the right person for them but in a different life kind of thing. In the long run, I JUST want to be with someone who makes me laugh and is smart and secure with themselves. My friend told me once I needed to be with someone opinionated and I think that is true to an extent. Not too concerned i feel like there are so many people to get to know and to love. there are so many lives you could live it’s almost paralyzing to think about.

i crush very easily i find everybody so endearing and I like to be desired a little bit (sue me). i have to go to the twins and work on the video we are going to do but i truly am drained. they live in glendale and yesterday i was in van nuys/ north hollywood and every time i’m in neighborhoods outside the city proper like those and east los angeles, or the valley or even passed, it feels very surreal, considering i only lived in maryland and only two places in maryland (with my mom and then moved out not even by myself but with my ex.) living in the city of LA (hollywood/los feliz/silverlake specifically) doesn’t feel as weird i guess mostly because i’m the most familiar with it since i sleep here. it’s also full of transplants and industry people and is way more white-washed. The surrounding cities in the County (which is huge) are lived in and are neighborhoods, so it feels bizarre sometimes that i am there, alone, like something entirely isolated from home and my ex. 

I used to see a guy who lived in Pacoima (Pacoima, meaning "running water," is one of the oldest neighborhoods in the northern San Fernando Valley region of Los Angeles. From wikipedia.) One night we went to denny’s or ihop and he yelled out this girl is from maryland, can you believe it? here in pacoima! Then he drove me around his neighborhood in his old red car it’s a nice car he adored it but i can’t remember the make. but he told me his childhood stories, like hear gus and i.. People are so proud of where they are from it’s very sweet. I’m so quick to say I’m from maryland, people born and raised in LA are so quick to talk about how things used to be here.

The twins said “come by at 6″ and that is code for we have something planned after, which is fine just a little annoying. All of my friends outside of work I met through my ex who are all in the music world. the twins have become close with big names (blahblahblah) and are being included more when they all hang out and that’s sick i’m excited for them i know they felt left out and insecure and just in general networking for your career is important, but it feels weird when they intentionally leave me out of things when we used to hang out all the time. i am known as the ex of my ex though and there is always a chance he could be there (with his new girlfriend who is very insecure about me being in contact with my ex) so I GET IT just makes me cringe a little to see people i became very close with act so silly over “clout”. I realized recently though that if i understand the impulse than I shouldn’t be judgmental. it’s natural, especially given their career choices, to be intrigued by it all. I, however, find the city so exhausting!!!!!!!

[yourmuseco]

yes please keep talking trash on this shit white boy. i am living for this content

so, how do i put this, as much as we shit on logan paul: he is not the only shit white boy out there like this. there are so many men i have met who have the same “humor” as logan paul but no one says shit against it. they pity laugh and go ‘oh he’s only kidding’ or ‘he didn’t mean anything by it’ and i am so SICK of that as an excuse. i am tired of these fragile ass men trying to make me and others feel bad for them because they CONTINUOUSLY make mistakes. 

this isn’t a simple ‘oh haha i’m gonna dress up as a pineapple for a month straight in the month of july while blasting if you like pina coladas at full blast’ sort of joke. i’d be living for that crap. this is hARMFUL. im a gay woman and i spent 21 years (soon to be 22, my birthday is on sunday ayyy) figuring that out because of this society we live in. i was told from a young age that my infatuation with my girl friends was merely me wanting to be like them and my jealousy when they dated was because I wanted a boyfriend. being gay isnt something thats just quirky or a trend, its literally a persons being. do i want to have an easy time bringing a significant other around my family? yes! but will i have that? fuck no! people like logan making jokes about being ‘gay for a month’ because its trendy and shit is harmful. what happens when its no longer trendy? when you no longer get views because of it? not to mention that you can guess this is coming purely from 12yo girls fascination with gays and gays being portrayed in media since almost all of our storylines are based on sex and not actual, deep relationships (although it is getting better). its sick and disgusting and he really needs to be stopped. 

i wont even get into his past problems because they literally make me so mad i turn into goddamn anger from inside out. logan paul is literally the product of ‘boys will be boys’ and until we teach boys to start taking responsibility for their actions instead of always making the women do so and teaching them from a young age how to respect people and not forcing them to ‘be masculine’ and destroy shit to make them manly, the logan pauls of the world will still exist.