#i left as she was saying all that bigoted bs and i never talked to her from then until now.. like i can't be friends with s/o like tht

[enihk-writes]

[you look so pretty and i love this view]

pairing: yu iseol x afab!she/her!reader

summary: you realise that you might like your senior sister more than you originally thought.

word count: 1.66k

author's note: based this on that one time i realised i was in love with my then best friend, who turned out to be super homophobic but we're going to ignore that reality. mom says my fanfic, my rules. (the story of us falling out is in the tags kurghhhh)

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laundry day was always the busiest time of the week.

well, it's not like you had anything better to do, as one of the physically weaker disciples of the sect, there was an unspoken expectation that you and the others like you would have to pull your weight around here in other ways.

you just wished more people wanted to pull their weight in the housekeeping aspect, instead of all flocking to the book-keeping jobs. it sucked that the majority of the housework was left in your hands, but what can a girl do?

sitting alone by the running stream, you worked hard at cleaning the dirt and stains off the pristine white uniforms you all wore, staying careful not to rip open tears and loose threads in the fabric. you look at the pile of clothing you had left, feeling your eye twitch when you saw the state that they were all in.

you sigh.

a long, drawn out sigh with your head thrown back. the sky above you that was once a dark shade of indigo had grown to a pale violet — the air in your lungs was cold and crisp. the water running in the stream smelt fresh, like the earth it came out from further up the mountains. you leave your hand in the stream, shivering at the icy feeling of the water running over your skin.

deciding that it was a long enough break, you shook your hands dry, digging into the unwashed clothes trying to pick out the uniform with the least defects so you could just mindlessly scrub on it without that added worry of wear and tear.

by the time you were done, the sun was hanging high up in the sky, and your back felt hot from how long you had been hunched over without ever going under the shade.

carefully, you balance the bigger laundry basket on your head while trying to rest the other on the curve of your hip.

the sound of shoes crunching on gravel comes up behind you. there wasn't a need for you to turn and look, you'd already guessed who it was by their footsteps alone.

...i'll take that.

yu iseol walks over, hands grabbing on the rounded edges of the woven basket. tugging on it lightly, having you loosen your grip a little.

you let her have it. stifling a giggle when her face was completely hidden behind the towering pile. yu iseol hugs the basket to her chest, shifting on her feet wondering when were you heading off to dry the clothes.

come on, iseol-sago.

you say softly, one hand balancing the basket on your head and the other reaching out to hold your senior sister's hand.

she lets you, quietly noting how your fingers felt against her calloused palms. hers were long, thin and rather scarred, and yours were a little smaller and..

her thumb rests over your fingers, your soft and squishy fingers. almost like a baby's. but maybe it's because your hands had been in and out of the water for the past few hours, they've become wrinkly — just like an old man's.

you hear a low scoff. looking over from the corner of your eye, you follow yu iseol's gaze to see her looking at your interlocked hands tenderly.

the back of your ears grow heated at the sight, your eyes dart back to the path in front of you, determined not to look back again and have your eyes meet hers.

what was that anyway?

what was that look she had back there?

you silently hoped the shadow cast by the basket on your head was dark enough to hide the slight steam of bashfulness that was probably escaping the pores of your skin right then.

yu iseol shut her eyes, letting you lead her to wherever, she knew you wouldn't ever lead her down a path where she could trip and fall over. well, she couldn't even if she tried since she had good reflexes.

but still, she lets her guard down around you. it wasn't that hard to do that anyway. it was nice being around you, after all.

hand-in-hand, the two of you walked under the endless rows of trees, yu iseol basked in the brief pockets of warm sunlight that hit her face, listening to the soft synchronised breathing passing between you two. the critters chattered above your heads and the red leaves of autumn crunched beneath your feet.

iseol-sago... we're here.

there was a slight shake in your voice, it wasn't really out of fear, that much she could tell. she should ask the others later, they might know the reasons why better than she did.

you were lucky that your senior sister had volunteered to help today. what would have been a job that took you almost three hours was done in one, leaving you some time to kick off your shoes and take a break while waiting for the clothes to dry out.

a while back, the sect had some money to spare. and since it was also your birthday coincidentally, the elders had asked if there was anything you wanted.

you had asked for a wooden platform to be built where you hung the laundry, and what a great request it had been. now in autumn, surrounded by a sea of oranges and reds, you lie down with your legs hanging over the edge, face turned up to the skies as your eyes made out the shapes of the clouds.

normally, yu iseol would have taken this time to train or work on her physique. but she didn't have her sword with her, nor did she want to leave you alone in the forest to go and get it. besides, the weather today was nice, and a few hours of doing nothing wouldn't hurt anyone. that guy would probably even pay her money to take a breather for a bit.

you look over, watching her shuffle a little closer to you. giggling, you link your arm with hers, pulling her to your side, shoulders bumping against each other's.

the both of you stayed like that for a long time, eyes closed, lingering between staying awake and falling asleep. it wasn't until a cold gush of air blew across the forest, causing the trees to knock branches and the leaves to fly across the ground — jostling you awake.

by then, the sun was sinking down the mountain peaks, the once vibrant blues of the afternoon sky had been painted with streaks of evening pink.

you turn over to look at the girl still asleep next to you.

her long hair had fallen over her face, covering it almost completely. your hand reaches out, trembling a little, to brush it out of her visage. you couldn't help tucking it behind her ear, though you didn't want to push your luck further by letting your fingers linger near her face.

maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was something else.

for someone who didn't care about her appearance all that much, she sure didn't look the least bit shabby. your eyes trailed over her dark plum-brown locks that shone a deep indigo under the setting sun. it wasn't just her hair, the same orange light danced across the curve of her cheek — the slight plumpness that led down to her sharp jawline, angled perfectly to frame her soft lower lip topped with a cupid's bow that strung an arrow straight to your heart. her nose was pointed and a little small, the slope of it led your gaze up to her eyes. her lashes were long with each one hand-crafted by the gods to curl perfectly around her two downturned eyes, each holding a pool of pale violet that had turned into a blooming lilac with a thin golden ring circling the dark centre of her irises.

a pair that were looking straight back into yours.

your heart jumped up to your mouth. not expecting that she had woken up while you were busy staring at her so shamelessly.

hm.

yu iseol sounds in acknowledgement. her expression still as neutral as ever. though if you hadn't been so preoccupied with the panicking, you would have noticed the rosy tint on the tips of her ears.

she reached out and grabbed your neck in place, tilting it to face her. she leans down and placed her forehead against yours. and you found your breath stuck, hitched in your throat as you dared not move or make a sound. this was all too much for you! that loud and noisy thumps of your heart rang in your ears, and you wondered for a moment if yu iseol had heard it too.

hm. you're not sick.

she states, matter-of-factly and lifts herself off the platform, walking over to the clothesline where the hanging laundry had almost been forgotten. she collects the clothes calmly, as though whatever she pulled on you just now was just any other regular day.

you remained lying on that wooden platform, mind reeling from what just transpired. you wanted to yell, to scream, to throw yourself off the cliff but you couldn't do that while she was still here. you choked back from spitting out blood in sheer agony. if your senior sister kept playing with you like this, you doubt you had any longer to live.

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chung myung wonders what deity he had disrespected in his past life to be stuck with kids like yu iseol.

when she had come to him and the other three in the middle of training with the pretext of asking for a friend, he hadn't thought so far to expect a disaster like this.

he looks up to the heavens where his sa-hyungs and friends were looking down on him and contemplates if he should just lock these two girls in a room until they sort out themselves.

i am so... fucking tired of you all...

[eerna]

I feel like a core part of Caitvi’s dynamic in season 1 is that every time Cait said or did something ignorant or prejudiced, Vi let her have it. She did not miss an opportunity to let her know how Piltover constantly screws Zaun over. Something that is very absent in season 2. I guess the idea is “this is what Caitlyn is like when she goes unchallenged” but then you can’t have Vi there because then that’s not Vi anymore. When Cait called Zaunites “animals,” Vi kind of reacted a little bit but then just deflected and I thought it was because Cait’s wounds are still recent so she’s letting it slide and then as it keeps happening eventually Vi won’t be able to keep it in anymore and is just gonna go off on her or something but that never happens. Their falling out felt so one sided? Like Cait says stuff like “I thought you were on our side”, “I thought you were different”, “Your blood is no good” and Vi just takes it like she says “you’re the one acting like her” but that doesn’t point out the bigoted nature of what Cait’s saying, I feel like s1 Vi would not have let that slide, like the way it’s portrayed it almost feels like Vi doesn’t even notice. On that note, what Maddie said to Vi about there still being “good ones left” was straight bs, she was talking as if it was all Marcus’s fault and not the system itself that’s corrupt, and that makes sense for Maddie to think, but it’s such blatant, obvious copaganda that it’s almost silly that Vi falls for it given her life experience.

Anyways, back to Caitvi. I think season 2 magnified the power imbalance in their relationship tenfold without ever addressing it. They’re acting as if it’s the same dynamic from s1 when it’s not. It’s like both the narrative and characters didn’t notice the obvious shift and glaring issues in the relationship and it just made me feel insane as a viewer. How could it get resolved if it doesn’t get addressed? It feels like there wasn’t even an attempt tbh. I think that’s what killed the ship for me, not the fact that the dynamic shifted but that the audience seem to be the only ones aware of that.

Also when they made Cait literally mirror the abuse Vi suffered during her time in prison by having her hit Vi with her rifle in her enforcer uniform, I thought that was intentionally invoking those specific memories for Vi to be explored later but no I guess not since it was never brought up. Between this and the warden, do you think the writers just like genuinely forgot about Vi’s prison trauma? (Only to bring it up to justify that horribly misplaced sex scene lol). Sorry for the long ramble.

Yeah, well said :( This all could have been avoided if Vi, and in addition Zaun, were treated differently by the story. But they aren't. So we're stuck with this accidentally toxic oppressor romance

[zincsishere]

The lilymation and think before you sleep drama

...why is the world filled with CUNTS??? Another reason why I don't really share my opinions with people.

This is for the lily fan to keep supporting her and attacking the people in my comments with the rude insults. leave them alone!!

My point with this whole thing is:

1. Lily is in the wrong. You DO NOT send other people to attack someone, no matter what they said about you! You guys are assholes! (I'm talking to a certain amount of people). Just because you don't agree with someone politically or you don't agree with someone at all doesn't mean you attack them or try to affect their source of income when they didn't DO ANYTHING. Sharing your opinion shouldn't be a death sentence.

If you don't agree with someone, try to talk to them first and see if they're worth arguing with in the first place. Most of the people that I was arguing with made the argument pointless and meaningless. It just became a dick measuring contest that I got swept into. I'm an angsty, emotional 14-year-old, and sometimes I let my emotions get the best of me and say shit that I shouldn't be saying. That is my fault, and I'm trying to stop doing that. I'm going to encounter a lot of bad people in my life. That doesn't mean I have to get down and start arguing and fighting with them. Most people just want to fight because they want to fight.

This is more of a personal opinion, but I will say it anyway.

2. TBYS wasn't offensive, and I don't even have to defend him. He defended himself. He made a video explaining himself with evidence to show that he wasn't acting like an asshole or being malicious; he was just giving advice.

This drama is old, but I need to set the record straight. Having opinions (that are well supported with evidence) doesn't make you an asshole, and it doesn't mean you should be attacked! People were trying to show me that he was a "bad guy."

But the evidence they showed me was bullshit. He didn't insult them. He didn't say anything rude. He wasn't doing anything worthy of cancellation. Like I said, I won't accept BS from someone just because I like them. ( aka Melanie Martinez < allegedly sexually abuse someone > and Ariana < she wrecked a relationship then made a song about it saying that she doesn’t care >) If there were something worth incriminating him about, I would've stopped being a fan. But, as I said before, just because someone might be an asshole doesn't mean they deserve to be harassed.

No matter how many times I fucking say this, NO ONE IS LISTENING. DON'T FIGHT FIRE WITH FIRE! No one deserves to get hurt or harassed just because of their opinions! "BUT HE SAID-😟😟" "BUT HE DOESN'T SUPPORT—😡😡" "HE'S A BIGOT—-👹👹👹" (coming from someone who has never watched a single fucking video)

Respect... shut up, please. I don't care if you like the guy or not, but what Lily did is not acceptable, and you can't defend that. That doesn't make me a dick rider; it makes me someone who has half brain cells left.

him potentially being “shitty” doesn’t matter. Hold People accountable for their damn actions.

Other people are making videos about this topic, and I'm so glad Lily is getting the consequences she deserves (she doesn't deserve to get doxxed; fans are crazy), but the rest is karma. I'm still waiting for a ukulele apology from that girl.

I'm turning off the comment section. If you DM me insults, I'll just report you. You're clearly not worth arguing with.

P.S. What I mean by he didn't do anything. I mean, he didn't sexually or verbally abuse or assault someone. He wasn't a crackhead doing drugs on the street and putting up fight with fags (I'm a homosexual 😐). He wasn't going around cussing out everyone he knew and saw; he wasn't going around shooting up schools. He was sharing his opinions (opinions that are well supported with science, articles, and experience) and putting people in their place when they were being rude or disrespectful. That's why I like the guy. You don't like him, that's fine, but you can't sit here and defend Lily like she's not an asshole herself. She's just a depressed one. (That sounded really rude, sorry lol)

You think the video fucking sucks. you think he fucking sucks. OKAYYYY but don’t act like Lily’s actions were agreeable just because you didn’t like his video or because you don’t agree with what he said. if you wanna argue about that, just go to his channel and confront him about it. he would happily defend his ass.

-Not the lily fans threatening to hurt and rape me yet I’m the bad guy here for not agreeing with someone trying to hurt and harass someone’s career then they want to claim that ALL TBYS fans are “right wing, dumb asshole who are bigot and ignorant” :) I’m turning off my notifications

Before you say anything, you have no idea who I am. Stop saying that I support Lily being doxxed or getting raped. I never said that. I said Lily should get 'consequences for her actions'. I have said countless times that I don't support her getting rape/doxxed threats and neither does thing before you sleep. ( you guys all know by now how crazy and obsessive fans can get when it comes to their idol or their favorite person. those types of fans can’t be controlled even if the creator actively tell them to stop. ) ( this should be argument lily should get consequences for her actions as a YouTuber she knows how crazy fans can get yet she actively told her fans to go harass and flagged a smaller creator because he didn’t like his video he could’ve gotten death threats and rape threats from her young fans. ) She ACTIVELY told her crazy fans to harass without watching any of his videos he told his fans to leave her alone. HOW IS SHE INNOCENT HERE?!?!

You guys keep putting words in my mouth, just finding excuses to dehumanize and make me be viewed as a bad person just for disagreeing with you. I'm a young SA victim, and I was almost raped at a very young age. The fact that you guys skipped over everything that I said just to assume that I condone raping and doxxing is beyond me. I'm saying this again “I DONT WANT LILY TO JUST DOXXED OR R@PE THREATS NEITER DOESNT SEAN (TBYS)”

Thanks before you sleep wouldnt actively go out of his way to make Lily because he wouldn't benefit from it, and because he wouldn't do it. he's not that type of person. Please just watch the video. ( without anger/hate and LISTEN TO WHAT HE SAYS ) because if you actually did watch the video, you would know that it wasn’t hateful or misleading of Lily’s character things that he said about her character are things that she said about herself.

Old non-crazy fans of Lily agree with think before you sleep because they actually watched his video and see that there were something wrong with.

He complemented her and explained parts that he liked about her and gave her advice (more like his fans) about health and fitness, since he has a lot of experience in that area. That's all he did - give constructive criticism and advice. He didn't tell his fans to actively go attack her. While Lily didn't watch the video and told her fans to go to his video that she did not watch, mine you, to go for reported cyberbullying. YouTubers work very hard on their videos, editing and scripting. That to just go down the shitter, and he wouldn't get paid for the work. And Lily is an online creator. She should know that if she's gonna send a huge number of people to go report his video, they're going to do way more than just report his video and they're gonna harass the living shit out of him. You're telling me that she, “a person who is a victim of cyberbullying and harassment because of someone that she used to be friends/dating a manipulative and crazy person”, doesn't know how crazy people can be about their favorite creators to the point of bullying and harassing someone to suicide? She had to go to a freaking mental hospital because of it and you’re telling me that she did not know what she was doing ???l I know this information because I'm an old fan of hers. Her videos brought me comfort, and I watched tons of her videos. I'm still shocked by this behavior. How are you gonna send your crazy ass fans to go bully and harass someone? You were just bullied and harassed yourself online to the point where you had to go to the mental hospital. Like, she is fucking deranged or something.

I truly believe she did that with malicious intent and tried to frame herself as a good person getting bullied by this 'bigot misogynistic fatphobic racist YouTuber.🥺' She knew what she was doing. She should've talked like a proper adult instead of getting a massive group of 2000 people to secretlyharass and ban his video. I wish you could see it how I see it, but creators know what they're doing with these parasocial relationships. The video was harsh, but it wasn't spreading any lies. He gave his evidence, his sources, and he was nice but constructive. Yeah, it's kind of unwanted advice, but it's his video. He can do whatever he wants on it as long as he's make center whole campaign of people to hurt her.

 I

[lizardbytheriver]

"The Goode Family" Observations Part 4

I have very little to comment on the Episode where the Prisoners who are Nazis are helping the Goode Family clean-up the Highway. Though, interestingly enough, the Nazis becoming less bigoted because its bad for their (drug) business, does offer a parallel to Capitalism. Which will chase inclusivity and diversity once discrimination and bigotry is less profitable. "You always treat me with respect and equality. You know, like a sissy." Yeah no, the very bad attitudes about race are very upfront. You have to go to the later episodes to get the "women don't want to be equals" and "women be crazy" stuff. Being "manly" is dressing like Dale Gribble, apparently. Okay. The characters are super-okay with appropriating Indigenous Customs. Which... You would think these characters would be against. But okay.

For as sh*t as the show is, allowing the resolution for the final episode to be "its okay for Men to cry" is a pretty good message. And the show does not really mock or belittle that point. Well. Watched the whole show. It sucked. But I did not hate all of the characters. The mother is the worst example of a performative activist. The father is written like he is from a different planet. But I actually think the Son and the Daughter are neat characters. The Son is adopted, but completely absorbs the environmentalism and desire to better the World into his life. Unlike the father, he does not become a complete stereotype. They allow him to be a good mechanic and football player, which is appreciated. The Daughter is materialistic, catty, and rebellious. But she still clearly follows the principals set forth from her parents (such as the veganism). Overall. I get why the show is forgotten. It is interesting that as the show went on, they really do drop any pretext that this family is supposed to be politically Leftwing. And it just goes full-force into them being individualist, hyper-environmentalist, vegans. Efforts to organize (Protesting, Petitions, etc.) are met with mockery even by the family themselves. There are no talks about Labour Organizing (the show backs child labour and the father is fine being exploited in his job). Systemic Change is met with disgust. In fairness. The Nazi Episode is the only one with actual organizing that had an impact, though it expanded an illegal drug trade. And there are pictures of the family working in Soup Kitchens and Needle Exchanges, but we never see them actually do that that in the show (only through the pictures that are over a decade old in universe). The Goode Family likes Che Guevara (despite hating violence and hating "toppling existing power structures"), Ghandi, and Al Gore. That's about everyone on the "Left" who gets mentioned. No mentions of Marx, Engels, Kropotkin, etc. Though half-way through the writers must have opened a dictionary cause they did use words like "bourgeoisie" and "reactionary" (only once for both). But that was still there. But again, I do not think the Characters are on the "Left" in terms of economically, in terms of labor, and they barely skate by in terms of culturally. Despite calling Indigenous Groups "backwards", almost saying the N-Word, the father being pro-abstinence, them not wanting people to "leach off the system", the father being Anti-Graffiti, etc. They do not hate Gay People and I think they pretend to like People of Colour (but this manifests in cultural appropriation, whether it be the decorations in their house or the drum circle seminar). They are on the Left solely due to the Environmentalist aspect. They recycle, they compost, they are concerned about climate change, etc. But again, individualist notion of activism, we buy from the organic chain store and we believe the carbon footprint BS. In essence "its not the big corporations' fault, its the individual's fault", that kind of stuff. This was interesting. Again seeing Conservatives (probably Moderate Conservatives) writing what they think a Far Left Family would be. It was interesting experiment. I think the over focus on the environmentalist aspect tho (not saying it disappeared on the Left, its just not the only issue), is very much of the time (2009).

[castingdirect]

Parent Of Cyberbullied Porn Star August Ames Has Spoken Out

Mum talks about the August Ames last days! Parent of cyberbullied porn star August Ames has spoken out about her final days. Hilary Rivera was as proud as any other mother would be of her daughter Mercedes Grabowski, as she left her native Nova Scotia, Canada, with the hopes of finding stardom in Los Angeles. And within months of landing in Hollywood, the ‘free spirit,’ as Rivera describes her eldest daughter, managed to make a new name for herself. MEET AUGUST AMES Unlike some parents whose children enter the adult entertainment industry, Rivera was fully supportive of Ames’ career. She became her biggest cheerleader and always eager to gossip about her bumping into Kim Kardashian in a bathroom or chat about attending a party held at Charlie Sheen’s house. Really, the mother of four’s only qualm was the nearly 6,000-mile distance Ames’ new career put between the pair. DISTANCE WAS THE WORST ‘I wanted the best for her – I wanted her to fulfil her dreams, and I wanted her to be happy,’ Rivera told the Daily Beast, following the release of her new book ‘Porn Star Mom: My Life with August Ames.’ She continued: ‘I was thrilled for her that she was getting these opportunities to meet famous people and to live in a beautiful community and to be a star. ‘It was something that I had never fathomed could possibly happen to her.’ But now, nearly a decade after Ames decided to leave home, Rivera wishes she had better insight into what her eldest daughter was going through. She says she’s come to learn that Ames was deeply depressed and allegedly emotionally neglected by her husband Kevin Moore, a producer and director for the adult company Evil Angel. UNABLE TO STAND UP FOR HERSELF Rivera was also sickened to discover that Ames felt unable to stand up for herself against some of her co-stars who allegedly crossed a line during shoots. This is despite being one of the industry’s biggest rising stars, featuring in close to 300 moves over her five-year career. It specifically singled out Russian performer Markus Dupree, whom Ames accused of making her feel violated during one of her scenes. ‘She was just on cloud nine,’ Rivera recalls of Ames after her arrival in California. ‘And then over time, things happened, and she was forced into situations where she was very poorly treated – beyond poorly treated. ‘She was manhandled by her co-star, performer is replacing me tomorrow for EroticaXNews, you’re shooting with a guy who has shot gay porn, just to let cha know,’ Ames tweeted. ‘BS is all I can say. ‘Do agents really not care about who they’re representing? #ladirect I do my homework for my body?’ Almost immediately, Ames was accused of being bigoted and homophobic, with many claiming her tweet reinforced the negative stigma surrounding bisexual male performers. Specifically, concerns that they run a greater risk of passing on sexually transmitted diseases to their scene partners. Ames tried to explain that she wasn’t being homophobic, but rather exercising her right to choose who she performs with. ‘I wasn’t attacking, I was warning, because most female performers I know won’t work with crossovers,’ she claimed. INTENSE BACKLASH Still, the backlash intensified, and the hits came from all over, including from veteran performer Jessica Drake, who chastised Ames for ‘eliminating folks based on the fact they may have done crossover work,’ adding that her ‘logic is seriously flawed.’ Pansexual performer Jaxton Wheeler also chimed in, tweeting around 6am on Tuesday 5th December: ‘The world is awaiting your apology or for you to swallow a cyanide pill. ‘Either or we’ll take it.’ That same morning, Ames’ body was found. (Wheeler claims that his tweet was posted after her death). Rivera accuses Wheeler of being ‘the catalyst’ for Ames’ decision to take her life but also acknowledges that Ames was in the midst of crisis. She pointed to her strained marriage to Moore, a general lack of support from within the industry, her mental-health struggles, and finally, the social media pile-on. CHAIN OF EVENTS ‘There was a whole chain of events that culminated in her taking her life,’ she says. While Wheeler went on an apology tour of sorts after Ames’ passing, with so many pointing the finger at him for encouraging Ames to take her life, Rivera says that she has never received a direct apology from Wheeler. ‘I’ve never spoken to that man, nor do I want to,’ she says. ‘If someone’s gonna say publicly, “Why don’t you take a cyanide pill?” that type of personality isn’t the type of personality that’s going to say, “Oh, gee, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean for your daughter to take her life.” ‘No, it doesn’t compute.’ Still, Rivera says that she’s proud of her daughter ‘even though it caused such a storm in her life.’ ‘STANDING UP FOR HERSELF’ ‘At least she was standing up for herself,’ Rivera writes. ‘I support that was the last time that she ever really put her own needs and wants above anyone else’s.’ Rivera also expressed anger towards Ames’ husband Moore, who she claims Ames only married because she needed a green card to stay working in the U.S. While Rivera says Moore, who was significantly older, was happy to have the twenty-something serve as his arm candy, he failed to provide for her with much-needed emotional support. BATTLE WITH DEPRESSION Ames had battled depression since she was a child, says Rivera. She recalls how she recognised early signs when Ames was a young girl. Only later would Ames tell her mother that she had been molested by a family member. Later in life, Ames was also diagnosed with bipolar affective disorder, something that Rivera also battles. ‘I think is just a narcissist who doesn’t feel that he has done anything wrong,’ says Rivera, claiming that he was emotionally abusive and neglected Ames. ‘Neglect is almost as bad as abuse. ‘She was left to her own devices all the time. ‘Other than the porn industry, they didn’t have anything in common. ‘Certainly, the generational gap didn’t help.’ HUBBY ADMITS HE COULD HAVE DONE ‘BETTER JOB’ Moore himself admits that he could have done a ‘better job’ of paying attention to Ames’ fragile state, telling journalist Jon Ronson in his 2019 Audible podcast ‘The Last Days of August’ that he was going through his own emotional crisis shortly before her passing due to the death of their cat Kush. ‘I withdrew from life, and I withdrew from ,’ he said. He continued: ‘I just wasn’t there. ‘I’d sit there and look at photos of Kush. ‘It’s so sad. ‘She talked to her therapist about it, that she didn’t know what to do for me. ‘I didn’t know she’d be dead six weeks later.’ MARKUS DUPREE It was around this time that Ames partook in what would turn into a traumatic shooting experience for her with Markus Dupree. Markus has a reputation in the industry for being particularly rough and crossing boundaries with his scene partners. Ronson previously spoke to the Daily Beast in 2019, recalling how he was shown the scene – which has never been released – in question: ‘You can’t shake the feeling that that’s the moment it begins,’ he said. ‘It obviously triggered in her things that she’d experienced as a child and she just looked so upset in that moment, and it’s really hard to shake that feeling. ‘I’m not going to say that’s the reason she died, but that was the beginning of the end.’ ‘FELT LIKE RAPE’ In 2019, Ames’ friend Emma Hix released a series of text messages that Ames had reportedly wrote after the scene with Dupree, describing that he was ‘way too rough’ and the scene ‘felt like rape.’ ‘Yesterday was totally unprofessional and I wanted to die,’ the text read. ‘He was dragging me around and choked me with my panties, slamming my head down on the table and was just WAY too rough and the scene didn’t even call for it. ‘Nobody on set said shit and I was literally in panic mode, so I froze and didn’t say no or stop. ‘I just wanted it to be over.’ She added in a follow up message: ‘I was looking at the sound guy with “help me” eyes and he was looking back with “I’m sorry” eyes.’ HEARTBREAKING For Rivera, it’s heartbreaking to know that her daughter had not one single advocate in that room. She wonders why there can’t be intimacy coordinators on all adult film sets in the same manner as Hollywood productions. ‘It would be common sense to have someone on set saying ,’ she says. ‘Or a director for heaven’s sakes. ‘Wouldn’t you expect the director to say “cut” if one of the cast members is in physical and visible pain?’ COMING TO TERMS It took years for Rivera to try and come to terms with what had happened, something she’s still currently struggling with. Through tears, she admits that she, in part, blames herself for Ames’ death, largely due to what one of Ames’ close friends had relayed to her. The friend had gone to visit a medium to gain some closure following Ames’ passing, holding out hope that the medium could make contact with Ames. Rivera learned from the friend that, according to the medium, Ames’ last words were ‘liquid courage’ – which made Rivera’s stomach drop. During Ames’ upbringing, Rivera admits that she battled alcohol addiction and would often repeat the exact same phrase while drinking. Hearing it repeated back to her was devastating. ‘FELT RESPONSIBLE’ ‘It made me feel responsible because those were my words,’ Rivera said. She continued: ‘I was a raging functioning alcoholic, and I didn’t know it. ‘I didn’t acknowledge it, but everyone around me knew it. ‘Certainly, my children who were teenagers at the time saw it. ‘Alcohol was such a powerful drug for me, that’s all I wanted. ‘I was exhausted at the end of the day, and I still had to put supper on the table. ‘Alcohol was a way for me to loosen up and let go. ‘Just knowing that those could have been her last thoughts, it just breaks my heart. ‘Knowing that I had that much influence over my daughter was a really hard pill to swallow for me. ‘That’s why I take so much of the blame for what she did.’ WISHES SHE COULD CHANGE There are a multitude of things Rivera wishes she could go back and change. For starters, she wishes that she could have a more honest and open conversation with Ames as a young girl about speaking up when she was uncomfortable. Rivera explains that she too was sexually assaulted while growing up as a young woman, and it took until Ames’ death to tackle these tough conversations head on. ‘She and I had very similar experiences,’ explained Rivera. She continued: ‘I wasn’t closed off from her but closed off from everything that I just didn’t know how to handle the situation. ‘I didn’t know how to talk to her about it. ‘I’m a different mother today than when I was raising my first three children – I’m raising Ursula now who is 14 and trust me, I am not the same mother.’ FURTHER SUPPORT Rivera hopes that her book will help bring about further support – mental health resources and on-set intimacy coordinators – for adult performers. She also hopes to encourage parents to have difficult conversations with their children and cherish every moment with them. ‘Parents need to know that they are such huge influences on their children,’ she said. Rivera concluded: ‘What you say to your child can’t be unsaid – or what you don’t say. ‘I know this personally… because she’s not here anymore.’ ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ CASTING DIRECT SUCCESS ONLY HAPPENS WHEN WE work work work work work work work work work ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ CASTING DIRECT ARE FIRST AND FOREMOST: Modelling Agency Advice Center Marketing Management Social Media Management Camsite Management Studio Account-Based Camsite Management Tubesite Management Fansite Management Profile Management Casting To Studios Worldwide Casting Casting For Movies - Broadcasting The World Casting For TV Webcam Model Management Female Webcam Model Management Male Webcam Model Management Transvestite Webcam Model Management Trans-sexual Webcam Model Management TIPS & STORIES Got a tip to share? Whether you have a top tip, a story to share, wish to feature in an article, or wish to anonymously contact us in relation to any matter, either shared within this article or within the website, please get in touch. Email broadcastingtheworld@gmail.com or alternatively, people are welcome to leave comments, and can contact us using our contact form on our website, or any of our social networks where we feature. WHERE YOU CAN FIND US You can find Casting Direct on: #Facebook, #Twitter, #Instagram, #Reddit, #Quora, #Medium, #Tumblr, #Blog.it, #Pinterest, #YouTube, #Vimeo, #OnlyFans, #FanCentro, #JustForFans and our website www.casting-direct.com ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ Read the full article

[tropicalfreckles]

Friends Again CH 5

MASTER LIST found here

SUMMARY: A new dilemma has risen in Lydia that she takes to the only one she can talk to about it.

SOLIDARITY

B**TLEB*BES DNI

(TW mentions of J*no, mentions of murder(no murder tho), mentions of bullying, mentions of the wedding death scene)))

Another day of school, another day of Lydia having complex feelings bubble up in her stomach. This was getting borderline exhausting with all the thoughts she kept bottled up inside. Even though she had become more comfortable with her therapist, she still wasn't sure if she wanted to just spill her guts out about these thoughts. Closing the front door behind her, she swung her backpack off while exhaling a long groan. No one was home yet except for the Maitlands, of course. They were probably upstairs since she didn't see them after scanning the living room. Rummaging through her backpack on the table she pulled out things she needed for homework then sluggishly retreated upstairs. School wasn't engaging and often times left her yearning for more. The Maitlands had recently found a way to help make her learning more simulating through their ghostly powers. They were still learning themselves. They tried learning more from the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. However, as Adam put it, it 'read like radio instructions'. Lydia didn't have too much of a hard time understanding it personally. Though that probably was because she loved deciphering the nonsensical text.

Should she let the Maitlands know she's home?

She usually would announce herself. Yet, that feeling wasn't leaving her stomach. It dampening her mood. Lydia didn't want to bother the ghostly couple with her problem. Since she still didn't understand it entirely herself. It was days like these she wished her mom was still alive. Regret wove itself in her every once in a while for leaving the Netherworld. Missing her chance to reconnect with her mother again. She knew deep down it was for the best. She would've also liked it if Delia and her dad had waited for a while before getting wed. She understood though they felt the fleetingness of life and wanted to make the best of it as long as they both were breathing. That would be another can of worms for Lydia to tackle another day. Lydia tossed her things on her bed when she entered her room. Closing the door behind her then took off her shoes. Her nerves were starting to get the best of her when she walked over to her mirror and gazed at herself.

"Why are feelings stupid..." She muttered. Grabbing a hair tie off of her stand, she ran her fingers through the raven locks tying it up.

"That's because you breathers have too many feelings; It makes shit complicated." A gravely voice chimed in. Lydia flinched for a moment then turned to scowl at the older man.

"I told you that you couldn't come into the house yet!" She snarled at him. Lydia began rubbing the pads of her forefinger and middle in circles against the temple of her head. Beetlejuice snorted then crossed his arms.

"You ain't exactly the boss of me kid. I do what I want. Within reason of your dumb rules. Besides, I was bored waiting in the stupid cemetery. There weren't any breathers to mess with today so I couldn't get anyone else to say my name." Beetlejuice rambled on, giving Lydia a shrug. The young teen threw herself face first on her bed. She thought over for a moment how risky this was.

"You didn't let Barabara and Adam see you, right?" Lydia questioned, sitting up a little on her elbows. Beetlejuice hummed while pulling his eyes out from their sockets.

"Nope, not a peep!" He snickered while tossing them in the air like a pair of die. Lydia looked on unamused before rolling on her back to stare up at the ceiling. The demon popped his eyes back in.

"Oh boy, are you having one of those angsty teen moments again? Am I gonna have to leave while you recite goth poetry or some shit?" He floated up from the ground then whipped over to her. Lydia inhaled deeply before giving a loud groan.

"Go away if you're gonna be an ass." Lydia reached out for a pillow to grab. Beetlejuice tensed up as he knew it was meant for his face. He deflated a little when he saw her hug then bury herself against it. Just as the teen hated when he would get moody, he felt the same about her. Though it was strange, the past three months now that they've been hanging out he has started to feel something he never had before. Was it that gross thing called empathy? He sighed deeply while busying himself with picking at his nails. This was going to require some finesse.

"Alright, you twisted my arm Lyds. What's bugging ya? What can your ol' pal Mr. Betelboose do to, ugh, 'help'?" He peered from the corner of his eye to see if she'd budge. She did not. He did get a grunt in response. Some progress was a win for him. Lydia flailed her legs a little as a muffled groan rose from her. The demon patiently waited for her to speak.

"As bizarre as it is to say.." Lydia dug her fingernails into her pillow as she pulled it away from her face finally. Her features scrunched up, her lips pursed. Relaxing after a moment of what looked like deep contemplation from Beetlejuice's perspective she finally spoke. "I think you might be the only person I can talk to about this." Lydia softly spoke.

Now, this was interesting.

She was actually being vulnerable to him. He only saw her do that once and that was when she summoned him back from the Netherworld. That was because of everything that built up from before. This seemed to be a new dilemma on the young girl's mind. He waved his hand to let her know she could continue.

"Beej. When did you discover that you had feelings for guys, too?" Lydia drawled out while shiftily gazing around the room. Anywhere other than making eye contact. Beetlejuice stroked his scruffy chin while trying to figure out what she meant by that. Was there a boy she liked? Did his stoic bratty friend actually have sappy feelings as well?

Wait.

"You're asking how I knew I was into more than just women? Well, first off, there is one thing ya gotta know about the Netherworld. Most folks swing both if not all ways." Beetlejuice jokingly conjured up a baseball bat and took multiple swings in different directions with it. It earned him a snort which he grinned at before continuing.

"It kind of came as an easy realization for me. I know that the stupid shit you breathers go about here on the mortal plane carries off into the Netherworld sometimes. It doesn't stick for long cause who the hell are you gonna complain to? No one." He rolled his eyes remembering all of the bigoted folks that would come through and get their panties in a twist at how the rest of the Netherworld was. While he wasn't the biggest fan of staying there all the time it wasn't always horrible there. The world of the living was more of a party for him.

"How did you really know, though?" Lydia hugged the pillow closer to her while sitting up. Beetlejuice plopped himself onto the bed next to her. Lydia had a surprisingly smart melon in that goth head of hers. He was curious why she was doubting herself so much.

"Probably when I made out with that one famous painter." He picked at his teeth. Lydia arched a brow.

"Which one?"

"You know me, scarecrow, don't kiss and tell." He grinned at her. Lydia gently smacked his knee.

"Oh BS, you always name drop famous people." She snorted. Beetlejuice snickered, moving his hands behind him then slid back more on the bed.

"You're right, I just don't remember the guy's name right now. Listen. I guess I get it. I've been observing you breathers for almost a millennia. Feelings are gross. But I know when it comes to this stuff it can be hard. Especially for kids. If there's something ya gotta blab to me about." He tilted his head in her direction while making sure he had her attention. She gave a slow nod for him to continue, "Then I'm listening."

Lydia inhaled deeply. This was nerve-racking. She just didn't know how to even express herself.

"I... I might have." Lydia banged her head into the soft pillow and gave a small whine. "I might.. like a girl at school." She spoke barely above a whisper. Beetlejuice leaned over since he could barely hear her. Lydia wrinkled her nose at the smell yet allowed him to do so.

"What was that kid? Gotta speak up." He gave a coy smile. Lydia scowled at him then looked away.

"I said... That I might like a girl at school. I'm not repeating myself again." Her cheeks were heating up at how embarrassing this was. Not so much expressing her feelings. It was more talking about a damn school crush to her stupid demon friend she was starting to make amends with. She looked over to him after a moment of making sure he wasn't going to tease her then noticed him grinning wide.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. HA. Of course, you're into girls! Look at you, you're tiny, snarky all the time and goth." Beetlejuice yammered on as he elbowed her side.

"Ha-ha, is this amusing to you or something? I just spilled my damn guts out." Lydia frowned, her cheeks flushed. Beetlejuice shook his head.

"Eh, maybe a little, I just find it funny that widdle Lydia has a crush. Always figured you were too feral and hated people too much for that." He pinched her cheek. She was close to snapping her teeth at his fingers. She opted for batting his hand away. Lydia wiped her cheek with her sleeve. He snickered in response then rested his elbows on his knees.

"Call me 'widdle' again and I'll throw you off the roof as I did before." She stuck her tongue out at him then took note of him smirking at her. "What?"

"Nuthin'. Just weird seeing you actually act like a teenager instead of your usual dry, deadpan self." He patted her hard on the back to which she grunted at him. "Good for you! Better to be your real self than locking that shit away. Dolores and Chuck'll probably be. I don't know, what's that word you breathers use now? 'Woke'? About this. I know the Maitlands will be. Ugh, they are just soooo supportive it's disgusting." He gagged at his last sentence to which Lydia rolled her eyes.

"I don't know if I'm going to tell anyone. At least not yet." Lydia softly spoke as she played with the pillow resting in her lap. Beej quirked a brow at her then snorted. He gave a soft bap on her head with his fist.

"Listen. I don't normally give pep talks that aren't about scaring, murder or crap. I guess I can try to understand. Daphne might be too intrusive about it. Chuck might just be super awkward about it and say something embarrassing. The other nerds are definitely gonna dote on you." Beetlejuice picked at his teeth. "Eh, take your time if you wanna. Just know that the Netherworld when ya shed your meat-sack body is gonna be fine with who or what yer into. Fuck what anyone else thinks." He let out a long yawn then stretched a little. "Trying to be nice makes me wanna take a nap or doing something nasty. Or hurl. Can't decide, this is gross."

Lydia looked over the demon while taking note of his words. She snickered at him dramatically pretending to upheave then shoved him.

"Stop being gross for five minutes." Lydia snorted then sat back on her bed finally letting go of her pillow. "Honestly.. My stomach is in a knot still. Part of me kind of wants to tell her however I don't want people to.." Midway through Lydia trailed off into a soft whisper. "I just don't want more of a reason for people to target me at school. I can handle myself for the most part. Just kind of hard when they gang up on me." She tugged at the edge of her school uniform. Without skipping a beat Beetlejuice responded.

"Want me to kill 'em for ya? I mean, if they're that big of lil assholes I'd probably be doing their parents a favor." Beetlejuice grinned while taking out a knife from his sleeve. "I'll 'cut' them down to size!" He cackled while swishing the knife around. Lydia ducked down then snorted.

"No. Murder isn't the answer to everything, BJ. Those girls are jerks but they aren't the root of the problem. Kids don't naturally act like bigoted brats. It's probably coming from their parents or something, to begin with." Lydia grabbed his arm to make him stop swinging the knife. Beetlejuice clicked his tongue then thought over what she said.

"Alright. Kill the parents and the brats. Two for two-plus no sad little orphans!" Beetlejuice hovered off the bed in glee while throwing his arms up into the air. "It'll be a real scream Lyds! Just let me loose on 'em! Come on! I haven't killed anyone since Juno!" He flexed his fingers while looking to her like an overjoyed child in a candy store. Lydia raised her hand up with a shake of her head.

"Didn't I just say murder wasn't the answer to everything?" She answered dryly while quirking a brow at him.

"I don't know, you murdered me pretty fast to try and kick my ass into the Netherworld," Beetlejuice muttered. Lydia inhaled deeply through her nostrils then slapped his thigh with her pillow.

"I'm serious. No murdering people on my behalf. I appreciate the enthusiasm but I don't want the cops on me. Making people suffer is more fun anyway." Lydia dropped the pillow then stretched her legs out. Beetlejuice floated back down to the bed then gave a little pout.

"Bah. Thought you were more fun than that, kid. Though torture also sounds like a blast." He stroked his scruffy chin. The goth teen kicked her feet against the edge of the bed.

"I was thinking more about pranking." She chuckled. "You know.. I might try talking to that girl. Just not yet." Lydia lulled her head against her shoulder to peer back at the demon. "I hate to stroke that big ego of yours. I wanna tell you that I kind of appreciate you talking to me about this. It's nice to talk to someone else who is attracted to the same gender." She took out her phone then opened the browser.

"Plus I see myself as more than one gender. Though that's a topic for another time, kid." He waved his hand as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Lydia swung her head up to stare at him.

"Oh; does that mean you're genderfluid?"

"Gender what now?" Beetlejuice quizzically stared at her while scratching the top of his scalp. Lydia quickly brought something up on her phone then showed him.

"You identify as more than one gender. See?" Lydia began scrolling through a website about the LGBTQ+ community while Beetlejuice crossed his arms and tried reading over it.

"Huh. Well shit. Guess so? Then what's being attracted to more than one gender?" He quickly snatched the phone out of her hand to look over it more.

"Well, that is a broader category. You could be either Bisexual or Pansexual." She sat up on her knees as she pressed the pad of her forefinger into the screen. Slowly she scrolled back up on the browser and pointed out the two. Beetlejuice hummed then plopped the phone back into her lap.

"Learn something new every day!" Beetlejuice grinned. The two froze when they heard the familiar voice of a woman echoing through the house.

"Lydia?? Are you home? We can get started on your homework if you want!" Barbara's hand began phasing through the door. With that Beetlejuice flung himself out the window as Lydia swatted grave dirt he left behind on her bed.

"Coming Barbara!" Lydia called.

She couldn't keep hiding him forever.

[countessofbiscuit]

Dollface

For @celebrate-the-clone-wars’ Writing Wednesday Prompt “Your Reputation Precedes You”  Rating: M Words: 2414 Inspired by The Adventures of Doll Rex.

(If there isn’t a 69′s in a universe with a 79′s, I’m calling bs) 

Having spent themselves silly, the boys in blue who’d brought the house down were long gone, and 69’s grew dull again. The exhibitionism continued, sure, the dancing was always pleasing in a kind of mindless way, and when things got really boring, the massage droid in the break room had a lekku setting that induced comas—it was almost enough to make a showgirl consider marriage.

But the circus this wasn’t. There used to be wardrobe brawls and stampeding reeks and everything. The only adrenaline high to be had here was shaking up assholes who tried to stiff her colleagues until their credits and their shame fell out. A civilian crime, and a dwindling one. The soldiers never did that. Ursula fleeced them for admittance—the bigot—then got mad when the staff stretched the poor sods’ pocket change by giving them free drinks because they were polite and very, very pretty. Oh they made noise. Lots of it. But they viciously policed their own and didn’t put their hands where they shouldn’t. And not just because they thought they might get charged.

They were … “shiny.” And two meters of broad, blood-red Twi might scare the shit out of anybody whose first experience with boobs was two hours ago and three levels up, when they got squished against someone on the dance floor or got flashed by a waitress.

Hence the boredom of a somewhat self-conscious girl who doesn’t like working a room for tips.

“Lala, that’s for you,” chirps Diohn when Laa’let returns from the freshers.

She stops fidgeting with her bra and rebuilding circuses in the sky and glances at the Zabrak bartender. Diohn points at the counter, then returns to digging through the mixer chiller.

A doll is sitting on the end of the bar. 

It’s propped up around a bright red cocktail, looking stupidly drunk, resting its chin on the rim of a glass about as wide as its comical face. Laa’let narrows her eyes at the arrangement. A clone. She recognizes the little flared skirt and shoulder decoration—and the golden top of one of those boys in blue. She scans the club for any that fit the description, but it’s just a throbbing sea of maroon sweats and crumpled greys, with a shrinking handful of businessmen pressed against the edges of the room; the only troopers in plates are the wrong color, and most of them are sitting along the rack, where they’ve figured out that two shoulder wings promise some seriously advanced recon—a much more exciting and personal show than anything happening at the bar.

“Who?” asks Laa’let.

“Didn’t see,” Diohn shrugs from inside the chiller, “they just left credits. And a note.”

Laa’let slides up towards the drink, ignoring the vulgar garnish—a cherry shoved in between a split taffy stem. The script is very regular, but the napkin is torn on the angles, like they couldn’t get the pressure right:

For the Ruby Rancor ♥

She grates the sharp tips of her teeth together. “You said you wouldn’t make it a drink.”

“I didn’t! I swear!” Diohn takes her own dulled molars to the cap of a bottle and spits it in the trash. “But you should stop fighting it. It’s definitely caught on.”

“Then what’s with this,” Laa’let says. It’s not just the garnish that’s offensive. Diohn’s clearly chosen her most bulbous glass, and she must have some campari, premixed to the perfect shade, chilling in a jug somewhere.

“That’s just me doing my fucking job. Now you should do yours.”

Diohn won’t share her tips forever, but Laa’let has her limits. Maybe too many of them for this career. “It’s not my job to talk to dolls.”

“Talking to cute faces with nothing but stuffing between their ears? I’d say that’s definitely in your contract. Roll out some carnival tricks.”

Laa’let’s lekku stiffen. “Circus. And I was a fucking acrobat.”

“Whatever. There’s still an audience—and maybe they’ll tip.”

It’s not an audience if you didn’t invite it, she refrains from saying, it’s an embarrassment. Too much like real life. With a frown, Laa’let swipes the drink, and the doll flops face down onto the chromium counter. Pathetic.

“Hand me that,” she says, snapping her fingers at an open bubblezap bottle.

Diohn giggles and swiggs the dregs. “Awww, someone’s had one too many!”

Laa’let maneuvers the doll into a seated position against the bottle, mindful of the oversized head. Its eyes are fixed off to the side, as if deliberately avoiding her boobs. “I need to get on his level. Is this a double?” she asks, stirring the drink once with the garnish.

One of Diohn’s liberal shots cascades over her peach fingers as she preps a line of Fuzzy Yodas—frothy, green, and strong enough to make you talk backwards. “You’ll have a nice time. I promise.”

Laa’let pulls out one of the lethris barstools and drops onto it. She hates sitting on these chairs. They’re sticky and undersized, like everything else here—even the ceiling is too low to accommodate her best tricks on stage. It’s maddening to be reduced to pantomime, the feeling of holding herself by halves, but Diohn’s right. She’s still a consummate performer, she’s still on the clock, and she’s still fucking broke.

“So,” Laa’let begins, taking a long sip that melts her sinuses and makes her damn nipples hard, “I’m new to this job and don’t have a lot of conversation up my sleeve, so do you want tragic backstory or tragic backstory?”

The little soldier makes big eyes at the turquoise Togruta on stage, but doesn’t indicate a preference.

“Tragic backstory it is. You might think it all started when my parents sold me to some charlatan in a travelling circus. Or when my growth spurt went on two years too long and I couldn’t get health insurance—did you know organs over a meter long are considered a pre-existing condition?”

She’s got her lekku draped over her shoulders and she shakes the tip of one in the little soldier’s face.

“Speciesist, I know. Free Porn Taa is laughably small in every department, so it’s not a priority for him. And the Togs aren’t represented in the Senate—not that healthcare is a priority there either.”

“Ugh, Lala,” groans Diohn, loudly dumping an armful of bottles into the bin as she passes by. “Politics? At my bar? No wonder he’s bored.”

Laa’let makes a rude gesture at Diohn’s back. “Anyway,” she says to the disinterested doll, “things really didn’t go downhill for me until the fucking Zillo Beast.”

The rack around Tosha’s stage erupts in applause when she finishes her routine. Another charming clone thing. It’d never occurred to them not to clap.

“Did I see it? You bet your plastic ass I did. Three of its gnarly legs came crashing through the roof during my act.”

Just for something to do, Laa’let takes the garnish from her drink and starts to trace a wet rendering of the monster that ruined her life on the counter.

“Squashed half the audience. I fell into the netting, along with all the buttresses, and was buried with broken ribs for three damn days. And this is where having no health insurance, no transferable skills, and no tolerance for animal abuse lands you,” she says, gesturing at the room, humid and a hazy red in the house lights, like an oversized womb.

Laa’let follows the little soldier’s gaze again. Tosha’s now working the rack for tolls. She’s got her knees on either side of one trooper’s ears, gripping him by his red shoulder wings as he gently tucks some funny money into her panties, ruffled and pink like cotton candy.

“Look, I know she’s topless and I’m not, but you could at least pretend to pay attention.”

A trooper in purple plates, very much paying attention, suddenly materalizes next to the doll. Laa’let takes in his double wings and his skirt—has she been performing for a fancy ARC?—and then moves onto his hair. It’s shaved into a landing strip across his skull and down his chin, and she can’t help wonder if the landscaping extends below the belt, too.

“There you are, Rex!” he declares, smiling broadly like he’d be very happy to enlighten her. “Who’s your pretty friend?” He gives a wave with one of the doll’s stubby arms.

This part always makes Laa’let nervous. What seemed like a good idea when she was eighteen and angry now made her job—wooing credits out of beings already much smaller than herself—very difficult.

“Doesn’t your friend know it’s rude not to stare?” she says, as softly as she can over the synth-glimmik pumping from the speakers, shielding her fangs with full lips—the only gift her mother gave her.

“My apologies, ma’am,” answers the trooper while ogling her tits for both of them. “He said he knew you, but he was probably talking out of his shebs.”

“Nah, he’s just shy. He doesn’t know how to ask,” comes a rumble in her cone. Another trooper pokes his head over her shoulder and starts taking mental soundings down her cleavage. 

Mindful of the bulk of her lek, she turns to glance at his plates—also purple, also winged. “Ask what?” 

The second one tilts his pretty face up. His hair curls in a way Laa’let recognizes as attractive to humans, and thick black stripes on his cheeks somehow brighten his green eyes, which sparkle at her with all the optimism of someone about two drinks in. “How much to blow bubbles?”

Laa’let takes a moment to parse this phrasing. The soldiers have a funny way of talking, but blowing bubbles is a far cry from their usual slang, crude and derived from military words she doesn’t understand. But eyes speak a pretty universal language, and theirs are glued to her red rack. If anyone’s going to introduce face fapping to the clone lexicon, it won’t be her.

But Green is far too cute to be allowed to bury those sweet cheeks so soon. The cheroot smoking on his breath is making her heart flutter, and she downs the rest of her drink.

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Jock, ma’am. And that fastidious fucker’s Muse.”

She struts her long fingers atop the bar towards the doll and starts to toy suggestively with his little skirt. “Well, Jock, boys in blue get things on the house,” Laa’let teases with a smile, not bothering about the fangs. If these two are going to spook, better get the disappointment over with.

Muse sits his ass straight down for the long haul, and Jock hovers even closer.

“And boys in other colors?” he mumbles, brushing the back of a finger down her shoulder, evidently still full of hope. That he doesn’t go straight for her plushy lek says he’s got manners, and Laa’let feels her bum go warm on the barstool.

“What makes purple boys special?” she asks, genuinely curious. She’s not encountered any troopers in this soft shade before, and 69’s does a good trade in color—every dancer’s got their favorites, but it’s considered good luck to get crisp tips off a new one. They think it means you’re a trooper’s first; Laa’let just suspects a counterfeit operation somewhere.

“We’ve got walkers and big, fuck-off tanks with psycho warfare tech” and “we’re an elite, hypermobile, armored reconnaissance unit” are the simultaneous answers.

Muse makes a disapproving face at his comrade and straightens up a little when he clarifies. “We’re the 113th Armored Infantry Battalion, ma’am.”

“And the color?” she asks, fingering the lining of Jock’s skirt. Maybe she could get him down to nothing but this, then bribe it off him? The lethris on these things is pretty lush, given it’s army issue.

“Commander’s orders,” says Jock, beaming. “Matches our Jedi’s sabers.”

“Who’s your Jedi?” Laa’let prods, wondering how much two elite soldiers will leak over big tits.

Jock squints at Muse. “I think that’s classified?”

“Definitely classified.”

“He’s sealed tight but … I’m working on it,” Jock assures her with a wink, mischievous and loaded. She can’t tell if he means his Jedi, Muse, or both, but his playfulness is certainly working on her. Even if Diohn hasn’t just made herself conspicuous, inquiring with gestures about the status of flimsi in fingers.

Laa’let smiles, plucks the doll from the counter, and dumps him headfirst into her cleavage.

“Steady on, Rex,” gasps Muse, wide-eyed, grinning stupidly between the doll and slack-jawed Jock.

“For you two,” she begins, giving the little head a very illustrative shake, “this is ten…”

Using the nubbed arms, Laa’let pushes the golden top of her dress down, popping out one ivory nipple, then the other, conscious that she’s already given away about fifteen credits. “Handsies is twenty...”

Flipping the little doll over by the arms, she lets him come to rest where creamy fabric melts into the divot between her hips. Her senses are alight with human! now that Jock’s knees have failed him and his head’s propped up on her shoulder. Her right lek tingles against his balmy cheek. She returns Muse’s puppet wave. “And anything more is subject to performance review.”

“We…” Muse begins, opening and closing his mouth like a blurrg on spice, “we’ve only got twenty between us.”

Laa’let bites her lip and bounces the doll in her broad lap, like she isn’t preparing to inflate more than just their manual scores. She’s flipped her glass and her tits are out. Diohn better be getting her a fucking room.

“Tell you what. Twenty plus this little trooper and you might find I’m big enough to share.”

. . . . .

[CT-61-6898] Are you seated

     [CT-27-5555]      in briefing w some top squares      knock me down my ombre hombre

[CT-61-6898] …  RIP Cpt Rex

     [CT-27-5555]      !      what did those dumbfucks do

     [CT-27-5555]      its only been 12 hrs      we r still in the system ffs

     [CT-27-5555]      facts tho he was ltd edition      not even rex actual has one

[CT-61-6898] unnamed.holo

     [CT-27-5555]      !      u perv       what did u fucking do to him

[CT-61-6898] Shit That wasn’t for you Wrong holo

     [CT-27-5555]      too late      ...rip smokecheck

     [CT-27-5555]      commdr tano likes ur paintjob

[CT-61-6898] You fucking wish (...but I’ll pass on the compliment) 

     [CT-27-5555]      so he didn’t get creampied      good 2 know      what happened 

[CT-61-6898] rexnruby.holo

     [CT-27-5555]      !

[CT-61-6898] Is he scuba qualified 

     [CT-27-5555]      !

[CT-61-6898] Muse is sorry not sorry Rex was sacrificed for the mission He did give me a datachip instead

     [CT-27-5555]      WORTH IT

Smokecheck belongs to tiend. The 113th bros and Miss Laa’let are mine. 

[fuck-customers]

Beyond the Pale

So two months ago I got an asst. management job at a brand new location of a well-known discount chain with a black and yellow color scheme trying out a new small format store concept specifically geared towards urban areas. It was two blocks from my apartment and I have 12+ years of retail management experience, so I was jazzed, I figured it would be easy. Ha! Out of five other managers, I was the only one of my race and gender and one of only two people on staff who hadn't grown up in the city. I got a nagging feeling that literally the only reason they had hired me was because of how close I lived-the manager had even asked if I planned on moving anytime soon. I was nervous from the get-go because I felt like the odd one out, but also because the work culture was like no other retail job I've ever worked. Everyone, including other managers, would constantly be on their cell phones on the sales floor or at the tills in front of customers, often having loud or inappropriate conversations. People would share their cashier login numbers rather than just start a new drawer, which meant it was a clusterf**k trying to figure out cash accountability if drawers were short/over, and the cash numbers on the back office computer were often way off from the reports you'd run on the register. You'd get trained more than once on the same thing by different people and all of them would do it different. The three managers who had worked for the company before were like a club, and the rest of us definitely weren't in it. The manager would post the auto-generated schedule without looking at it, so people would constantly be scheduled to clopen or work shifts outside their availability. Why the hell does anyone ever need to clopen with 6 managers on staff? Yet the GM's schedule was somehow always consistent. On every shift there would be at least two managers, sometimes more, but somehow I would always be the one who'd get stuck behind a till while the other MOD would literally sit on their ass in our cafe section and either watch TV or play on their phone almost the entire shift. Then, when I'd go to do recovery at the end of the night, shit would be destroyed. Like hey, maybe you should've been working on this instead of texting the whole damn time?! I would ask for training on specific tasks and be told not to worry about it. Then I'd get yelled at for not knowing a week later when the GM would ask me to do it and I'd tell them I didn't know how. They would schedule me to close 95% of the time, and then get mad when they'd have me clopen and I'd have no idea how to do morning tasks I'd never been trained on or couldn't remember how to do a complicated task I'd been shown once several weeks ago. In the two months I worked there I had a bunch of teens on bikes chuck cups of iced water at me when I told them they couldn't drag their bikes through the store while 4 of my male coworkers stood and watched and did nothing. I had a drunk man hit on me and touch my face. I endured countless casually bigoted and homophobic comments from the same manager, who didn't know I was queer but IDK if it would've mattered anyway. The final straw was about two weeks ago when a regular female customer who also worked in the same shopping center approached me and told me that her and her other female coworkers had been getting creeped out for a few weeks by a male associate behaving inappropriately-following them too closely in the aisles, checking their ID for too long and telling them he wanted to look them up on social media, opening the one person's cigarettes and asking if he could have one. I was appalled, apologized profusely, and told her I'd look into it and counsel the associate. She couldn't remember his name, but she did physically describe him. I knew right away who it was because I always closed and usually worked with them. After the customer left, the homophobe manager commented, "If it was such a big deal, why'd she wait to say something? That's like getting raped and waiting three weeks to say anything." I honestly almost threw down my keys and walked out right then, but I wanted to give the GM the chance to do the right thing. When I came in and talked to him about it the next day, he acted annoyed that I brought it up and wanted to know how it would be handled. Him and all the other male managers blew it off and acted like the story was either exaggerated or fabricated. I agonized over calling the anonymous HR line, or just calling the DM, but I knew I had to do something. Well come to this passed week, I was off Monday-Tuesday, scheduled a mid shift Wednesday, and scheduled to open Thursday. Close to 5pm, I get a text from one of the other ASMs asking if I could work the closing shift instead of the mid. When we close we don't get out until 11:30 and when we open we have to be in at 6:45. I assumed he wanted to switch shifts, so I said I couldn't because I had to open the next day. Two minutes later the GM calls and tells me he needs me to work the closing shift. I told him no, because that was less than 8 hours between when I would be clocking out and back in and that it really screwed with my medication schedule and that I'd get him a doctor's note if he wanted. He gave me a raft of shit about it was just one day and I lived right down the street. I begrudgingly agreed to work the shift, but told him not to expect me at my best because of my medication. He didn't say a word, just hung up, no thanks or anything. When I went back and looked at the schedule, I saw that he had to switch me because his dumb ass hadn't scheduled a manager to close with the lead key holder. Somehow, even though it was his fuck up and there were other managers whose schedules he could've tweaked without completely fucking over, it became my problem. So I went in that next day for the closing shift and my GM wouldn't even acknowledge me, no hello or nothing. All he did was tell me to get on a till (of f**king course). When he left for the day he didn't say a word to me either, even though I was MOD. I didn't know he had gone until the other key told me. Right about then was when I decided enough was enough-if none of the other managers could respect me, I certainly didn't owe them shit, but I did owe it to that customer to handle her complaint and treat it with the level of seriousness it deserved. I went into the office, called the DM, told him I was working out my shift but leaving my keys in the safe and not coming back because as a victim of prior sexual assault I wasn't comfortable working with a bunch of other managers who would just sweep that shit under the carpet. I didn't even tell him half the shit that was going down because I wasn't trying to ruin lives or get people fired but I was just so damn done and wanted him to know why I was walking without two weeks notice rather than let the GM spin some BS story. I'm just so glad I'm out of that shithole, my mental health over the last week alone has improved vastly.

[shu-of-the-wind]

foster parent au pt iii

pt i   pt ii   pt iii

CW: some implied racist BS, some major assholery, and K telling someone to fuck their mother in Mandarin.

“You are acting strange,” says Kei.

Cassian doesn’t look up from his coffee. Two sugars, milk, and all the essays from his eighth grade world history class, and he still apparently does not have enough of a shield to keep Kei from commenting. Then again, nothing keeps Kei from commenting. It’d be like trying to stop a tsunami with a plastic spork. “I’m tired. It’s been a long week.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

Cassian lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and uncaps his red pen. “Long week.”

Kei scoffs. “That is fallacious.”

He scratches out a misspelled word, and says, “Sure.”

“You are humoring me,” says Kei. “Do you not want to discuss what is making you act so strange?”

“I’m at work,” says Cassian. “So not really at the moment, no.”

“I see.” Kei sips at his tea. “I hope you are aware that no matter how unpalatable I may find hearing about your romantic escapades, if there are issues, I would be obliged to listen.”

Cassian can’t decide if he wants to laugh or choke.  How does one say the one person I never thought I’d see again in my lifetime is apparently the mother of two of my favorite students? “There are no romantic escapades.”

“Of course.” Kei peers down his long straight nose. “You’ll note that I used the word obliged because I have no desire to listen to your romantic escapades—”

“There are no escapades—”

“—I have a duty as your friend to listen to your problems and tell you how to fix them. Out of the two of us, I have more common sense, after all.” He sips his tea, and then adds, “Indubitably.”

“Indubitably,” says Cassian, and writes clunky sentence—rephrase in the margin of the paper he’s working on.

“Hey,” says Lumiya, over by the refrigerator. “Kei, I swear, if you took my lunch again—”

“Why would I ever steal your lunch?” says Kei. “They almost always smell terrible. Besides, even if I did, you avail yourself of my tea without my consent. It would be fair game.”

“That tea’s communal.”

“Cao ni ma,” says Kei, and does not smile. Lumiya huffs, and wanders off.

“Do I want to know what that means?” Cassian flips the page on the essay.

“Is that a rhetorical question? I do not know what you may or may not want, Cassian. You are aware of this.”

“It was rhetorical.” He taps his pen to his mouth. Rose Tico can usually write something much more sophisticated than this. Late night or bad week? “Forget it.”

“I shall not, but if I must change topics.” Kei thieves a fry out of Cassian’s bag of fast food. “Mothma is displeased today.”

“I’m trying to grade, you realize.”

“You are more than capable of listening and grading at once.” He takes another fry. “There was an incident with a parent yesterday morning. Apparently a boy in Lumiya’s homeroom accused one of the foster children of theft.”

Cassian nearly puts his pen through the paper. “Don’t call them that, Kei.”

“It’s a logical descriptor. And I do not have classes with them. Neither of them have any inclination to take Mandarin.” Kei sniffs. “Besides, I do not know their names. I do not bother to remember students I do not teach.”

“Finn and Rey Erso.” Both of them have been absent from school for two days. Tuesday and today. And Jyn had shown up to see Mothma on Tuesday, for some reason. “I haven’t heard anything.”

“Apparently there was a fight. The foster mother spent two hours in Mothma’s office and emerged very displeased. I observed it personally. I had to use the photocopier in the administration office, and I could hear the shouting through the wall.” Kei steals a third fry, and then a fourth, and finally Cassian shoves the bag over to him. He’s not hungry anymore, anyway. “Both of the foster children were involved, as well as Armitage Hux and a handful of ninth graders.”

“I should have been informed. Rey is in my homeroom class.” And she’s bright and sweet and with just enough of a stubborn streak that it….doesn’t surprise him that she threw herself into a fight alongside Finn. “Why didn’t anyone inform me?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” asks Kei, quite seriously.

Cassian does not answer. He leaves the staff room.

Mon Mothma’s been the principal of Yavin Prep for almost ten years, and from what he’s gleaned from old yearbooks, her office has never changed in all that time. Same books, same globe, same broad windows. Mothma looks the same as she has in every photograph, short red hair and lines around her mouth. She lifts one finger when he comes in, and says, “I’ll call you back,” in to the phone before settling it back in its cradle.

“I was going to call you in during the lunch hour,” she says, before Cassian can open his mouth. “So get off your high horse, if you please.”

He deflates. He can’t help it. People don’t just tell Mon Mothma no. “I only just heard about it. But Rey is in my homeroom, and Finn Erso is in my world history class, I should have been told—”

“It’s complicated,” says Mothma, and rubs at her temples. “Honestly, I assumed you would have heard about it before now. It’s all over the school, and you’re usually the teacher I can trust to have his ear to the ground.”

Cassian opens his mouth, and closes it again. He sits down. “I’ve—been distracted. Lately.”

“Does this have anything to do with why you were late yesterday?”

“Not in the least.” Just—why he hadn’t been able to focus much in class afterwards. “What happened?”  

Mothma sweeps her thumbs over the marks beneath her eyes. “Depends on who you ask.”

“Mon—”

“Apparently a group of high school boys led by Armitage Hux jumped the Ersos on their way home from school on Monday. Ms. Erso claims it was an incident of bullying. Mrs. Hux says that Finn Erso stole her son’s laptop, and he and his friends came to ask Finn to give it back when he and Rey attacked.”

“Bullshit,” says Cassian.

Mothma frowns. “Cassian.”

“I know those kids.” He curls his hands around his kneecaps, digging his nails into his jeans. “The Ersos—they’re good kids. Good students. They’re not thieves, and they’re certainly not stupid enough to pick a fight with high schoolers twice their size.”

“I know that, but you have to admit, Cassian, they’ve not assimilated well. They’re rowdy, they’re disruptive in class, they both come from—fairly unique circumstances—”

“Are you saying that because they’re foster kids--” He stops, before he can add and minority students. He knows Mothma better than that. She might be oblivious sometimes, but she’d never say something that outwardly bigoted. “They’ve been burned by other schools. They have reasons.” 

“But those reasons aren’t helping them at all at the moment. They both have histories of violence, and in a he said she said situation there’s going to be enormous pressure from the board to examine this in a manner that falls in line with what the PTA wants.”

Cassian shifts his hands off his knees.

“Don’t make that face at me, Andor.” Mothma sighs. “There’s going to be a meeting tomorrow with Armitage Hux and his mother and the Ersos. Ten AM. I’d like you to be there.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” She rubs at her eyes. “Hopefully this doesn’t end in an expulsion.”

That’s it, apparently. He’s not going to get anything more. Cassian stands, and turns to go.

“If it helps,” says Mothma. “I’m inclined to believe Ms. Erso about the circumstances.”

“Good,” says Cassian. His teeth hurt. “Because those kids need all the support they can get.”

There’s an accident on the main street leading into the school, which means they’re almost—but not quite—late when Jyn finally puts the truck into park and says, “I know this is a good school, but it looks a little like juvie.”

Rey snorts hard through her nose. She’s been quiet all morning, clicking away at her fidget cube instead of talking, the way she does when she’s worried and not wanting to admit it. Finn, between them in the front seat, says, “And you’d know, Black Cat.”

“Don’t test me, monster. I went in once, I can do it again.” She turns off the engine. “Any nasty surprises either of you have forgotten to mention?”

Finn and Rey look at each other. Rey rocks back and forth once, and then says, “No?”

Of course it’s a question. She really doesn’t like that it’s a question. Jyn “Fine. Out of the car. And fix your tie, Finn. If you don’t make a good impression then I’m going to have to punch somebody in the administration to make sure they don’t notice and I already jammed my knuckles in a motor once this week.”

Her pick-up’s old and shitty, and she feels….grimy, in comparison to the other cars around. Yavin Prep might look like a juvenile detention center from the outside, but it’s an expensive school, and all the cars in the lot are pricey. There’s a reason she works two jobs, and it’s to make sure both Finn and Rey can stay here and hopefully get a decent chance at maybe, someday, going to college if they want to.

Bodhi would say she’s being stubborn. Bodhi has said she’s being stubborn, for not accessing the trust her father left her. Jyn would rather light herself on fire than have anything to do with her father, though, so even if she’s being stubborn, she’ll take bone-deep exhaustion and too much coffee over touching Galen Erso’s money before she has no other choice.

The administration office is a step up from all the admin offices she’d had to slink into, during her school years. There are actual paintings on the wall, not prints. A nice carpet. The fax machine isn’t trashed. The chairs aren’t cheap. Jyn can’t sit. She stays standing, and taps at the edge of her phone with a stubby fingernail until Rey nudges the side of her shoe and hisses for her to stop. Which makes it worse, because she should be the one calm, right now, not Rey and Finn. She catches the secretary watching them, and stares at the woman until Mrs. Naberrie (at least, according to her nameplate) has to drop her gaze to the desktop.

“Jyn,” says Finn, and tips his head to the wall. “Chill.”

“I’m chill,” says Jyn.

Finn rolls his eyes, and starts tapping his foot on the floor.

“Mrs. Erso?” It’s Mrs. Naberrie. She’s half on her feet, now, tucking gray, curling hair behind her ear. “If you want, I can take you and Finn in to the office, now.”

“It’s Miss,” says Jyn. She shoves her phone into her jacket pocket. “Thanks.”

Rey tucks her hand into Jyn’s pocket, too, just for a second, and hums.

Mon Mothma must be in her late forties, a small, slim woman with bright red hair and dips around her mouth that seem more like frown lines than dimples. Her handshake’s firm, without ceremony. There’s already a mother and child in the principal’s office (and she never, ever, ever thought she’d be back in a principal’s office again, but that’s how it goes, apparently): a redheaded, freckled woman and a redheaded, freckled boy, both with sour-milk skin and tilted mouths like they’ve smelled something off. There’s a vile dark bruise on Armie’s jaw, and his lip is split, but—and she feels vicious when she thinks this, still cold inside—not nearly so bad as Finn’s injuries. Because Armie Hux hadn’t been attacked by eight boys at once.

Jyn does not offer her hand. Neither does Armie Hux’s mother. Jyn puts her hand on Finn’s shoulder, instead.

She notices Cassian last, somehow. Maybe because he’s lurking near the window, staring out of them with his hands locked behind his back, strict as a soldier. Jyn focuses hard on Mothma, and refuses to pay attention.

“Thank you for coming in, both of you.” Mothma drops back into her seat, and folds her hands on the table. “I understand that the situation is complicated—”

“Nothing is complicated about this,” says Armie’s mother. Her lip curls. “I want that boy expelled for attacking my son.”

Finn does not flinch. He doesn’t look up. It’s only because Jyn has her hand on his shoulder that she can tell he’s shaking, just a little.

“That’s not the purpose of this meeting, Mrs. Hux.” Mothma taps her forefinger to her desk. “The goal here is to come to an understanding. Considering the circumstances—”

“There is no considering of anything, Ms. Mothma.” Mrs. Hux shakes her hair back out of her face, and tucks one leg over the other. “That boy is a thief who attacked my son, and I want him out of this school. Armitage deserves a school where he feels safe to attend class instead of being harassed by some juvie reject—”

“Excuse me,” Jyn says, and Finn goes stiff under her palm. “Don’t you dare—”

“Mrs. Hux, I understand that you’re upset about what happened, but this isn’t helping anybody—”

“Finn,” says Cassian, and Mothma goes abruptly quiet. “Did you take Armitage’s laptop?”

“Of course he did,” says Mrs. Hux. “The boy’s a criminal, from what I’ve heard—”

“You shut your mouth about my son,” says Jyn, low and cold. “Right now.”

“Finn,” says Cassian again. He’s softer, this time, somehow. “Did you take Armitage’s laptop?”

Finn looks at Jyn. Jyn looks at Finn.

“I didn’t,” says Finn, quietly. “Sir.”

“Of course he did,” says Mrs. Hux, “to sell it, most likely—”

“I didn’t.” Finn digs his fingers into her wrist, hard enough to sting. “Me and Rey were just walking home, we didn’t do anything—”

“I saw you take it,” says Armie Hux. He lisps, just a little. “You jimmied my locker open and you took it—”

“I wouldn’t want your stupid laptop, I have one at home—”

“That boy,” says Mrs. Hux, “took my son’s laptop out of spite, and I want him expelled, and I want his mother to compensate the cost of the machine—”

“Like hell,” says Jyn.

“Armitage,” says Cassian, but Mrs. Hux shouts over him.

“That boy is a criminal and a thug and I want him removed from this campus immediately, Miss Mothma—”

“This is an exploratory meeting,” says Mothma. She doesn’t raise her voice at all, but something in it—Jyn’s not sure. Mrs. Hux snaps her jaw shut so fast there’s almost a click. “Nothing is going to be decided here. If you aren’t comfortable with that, Mrs. Hux, you can leave, and we will continue exploring options without you present. Is that understood?”

Mrs. Hux says nothing. She huffs, and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Mr. Andor,” says Mothma. “You had a question, I believe.”

“I wanted to know what time Armitage saw Finn bust open his locker.” Cassian leans back against the windowsill, and does not smile. “That’s all.”

“What does that matter? He saw it, that’s the proof you need—”

“Humor me,” says Mothma, and smiles, thin-lipped. “Armitage?”

Armie Hux looks at his mother, and then at Cassian, and says, “I don’t remember.”

“You were in the hallway, clearly,” says Cassian,. “Your locker’s a few yards down from the chemistry lab, isn’t it? Was it morning? Afternoon?”

Armie looks at his mother again. He shrugs. Jyn curls her hand back around Finn’s shoulder, and holds on.

“I don’t see the point of this,” says Mrs. Hux.

“Armitage,” says Cassian. “You saw Finn taking your laptop out of your locker. Were you on your way to class?”

“I guess.”

“Which class?”

Armie shrugs again.

“Why didn’t you tell a teacher?”

“Dunno.”

“You saw Finn break open your locker and steal your laptop and you didn’t tell a teacher?” Cassian cocks his head. “Seems counter-intuitive to me.”

Mrs. Hux bristles. Color flushes up her throat, like she’s being filled with boiling water. “I don’t like what you’re implying, whoever you are—”

“Mr. Andor is one of our history teachers,” says Mothma. Jyn could swear the woman is preening, just a little. “Like I mentioned before, Mrs. Hux, I requested he attend this meeting on behalf of the student disciplinary committee.”

“Why is Armitage the one being interrogated here? That boy is the criminal—”

“If you don’t mind,” says Cassian, “I’d like him to finish his story. Surely you won’t object to that?”

Mrs. Hux snaps her mouth shut again.

“Art,” says Armie. “Third period. Before lunch.”

“Monday morning, third period. That’s when you saw him take it?”

“Yeah.” Armie shifts, and sniffs. “Yeah.”

“And when did you talk to your friends?”

“I talked to Ben in art class. Told him what happened.” The kid shrugs. “He talked to some guys in the high school division. Y’know. They wanted to make sure I’d be okay. Talking to him.”

“I wouldn’t have done anything,” Finn bursts out, and Jyn digs her nails into his shoulder. “I didn’t go near your stupid locker—”

“You’re sure it was third period,” says Cassian again. “Absolutely sure.”

“Yes,” says Armitage. He looks at his mother, and then at Finn. “He took it out of my locker, third period, on his way to chemistry class or something, I don’t know. Maybe he ditched. I don’t know what kids like him do during school, but it was definitely Finn.”

“Finn was in class with me during third period on Monday,” says Cassian, without inflection. “World history. Third period, Monday morning. We were talking about the Ottoman Empire. Finn turned in a paper on its fall during and after the First World War. I have him marked in my attendance book.”

Armitage Hux says nothing. Mrs. Hux is scarlet. Finn looks like all the holidays in the world have just smashed together into a piñata.

“Thank you, Miss Erso,” says Mothma. The corner of her mouth ticks up. “If you and Finn will wait outside for a few minutes, I’d appreciate it.”

There should be something to say, she thinks. She should hvae something to say. When she stands up, though, there’s nothing. Jyn nods, and in spite of herself her eyes flick to Cassian, where he’s still skulking by the window, his head down, hair kind of draping in front of his eyes. He’s watching her, she thinks. Without blinking. 

Jyn dips her head to him, just once, and pretends her heart isn’t twisting in her chest. 

[writersriot]

@neepcreature

So so sorry it took me forever to get back to your response to Part 16!! I also apologize for my long-ass response haha, hence why this is in a separate post. Because I am a rambler who talks to much concerning my special interests.

When Two-Bit and Marcia get married (in my mind haha), they would absolutely end the rivalry lol. I just love how they instantly bonded over their shared sense of humor, but then we never heard about them again. Like dude, what happened to my one het ship in this book haha.

The ages!! Oh god the ages lolol. See, the way these characters’ ages are written. . .just doesn’t make sense. I don’t know if this came from Hinton writing as a teenager and making certain assumptions about how people act at certain ages?? I know by the time kids are seniors in high school, around 17-18, they look at the freshmen, around 13-15, and think they’re babies haha. And sometimes the ones who are out of high school but still basically youths seems so much older and wiser (which, lol.)

Darry is 20, but god at 20 I knew nothing, and Darry is holding up his family by himself. Even Two-Bit is 18 going on 19 yet still in school, not even a senior yet. And he’s the oldest of the gang, which really makes me think Darry isn’t usually involved with the gang so much as maybe Soda is. I think Two-Bit even mentions that he’d beat down Pony if he weren’t Soda’s kid brother, so it makes me think this gang is mostly made of these boys who went to the same school for at least some time and who live in the same neighborhood. (So like Pony and Darry are included in the gang because they’re related to Soda I guess)

Because Soda is 16 going on 17, which I assume Steve is as well since they’re best friends. Who else is that age?? Johnny. With Dally only a year older. Like lol forever. Because really, is it Pony wanting to be part of the gang so much and to be taken seriously like you said? Like Pony kind of latches onto Johnny as a type of kindred-spirit as shy, quiet types that Pony makes assumptions about Johnny, seeing him as younger than he is and closer to Pony’s age? ‘Cause even though Johnny is Pony’s friend, I feel like Johnny sees Pony as a younger brother he would (and does) protect.

I also think maybe Pony fundamentally doesn’t understand the relationship Johnny has with the other members of the gang either because he doesn’t see it. I think his notion of this is amended a bit at the end of the book, when it’s too late unfortunately.

So is the infantilizing of Johnny really as bad as it seems in Pony’s perspective? Or is it just Pony’s interpretation of events? I mean, we know Johnny is small for his age, which can happen to kids raised in abusive situations, though of course it could be he’s a little of a late bloomer puberty-wise. And we know the gang wants to protect Johnny due to his abusive and neglectful home life. Pony says Johnny is the “pet” of the gang, which I don’t even know what to make of other than Pony making assumptions.

Here’s a kid very near the same age as most of the guys in the gang, yet due to his size and likely being in the same class as Pony, he maybe gets treated like another little brother. But he’s the little brother you don’t fuck with at all. And honestly, Pony calls Johnny the pet, but we really don’t see that kind of dramatic behavior from the rest of the gang. They’re protective of him, absolutely. But it’s honestly as if the only one who infantilizes Johnny is, in fact, Ponyboy himself? Like, I just don’t get those “he’s the pet” vibes from the rest of the gang so much as “Johnny’s already been through shit so don’t give him any more” vibes.

And this infantilizing of Johnny I think is what makes readers think he’s Pony’s age instead of the same age as most of the gang. And I think it’s why some people are against the Johnny/Dally ship as well? Like they see it as a dramatic age and power difference, when really, I think that’s only due to Pony’s narrative of everyone and not actually what the subtext implies. That’s my analysis of it.

Oh gosh, I followed Hinton on twitter just a little before her rude responses started up and garnered so much attention back in October last year. I thought, oh cool, another author to love -- oh shit nevermind. Like she would tweet some good stuff and then make me kind of despise her when answering questions about The Outsiders lol. So yes, I saw all of her. . .Hinton-ness. She honestly should have said, “That wasn’t my intention writing these characters, but it’s cool if readers see something else,” and left it at that. And maybe people should have stopped asking her if the characters were gay and just said, “I see them as gay no matter what lol bye” like haha that’s the only way I would ever do it because I don’t need an author’s permission to read their book a certain way.

But I stg Hinton needs to go back over what she wrote. Because what she thinks she wrote and what actually made it onto the page appear to be different. Like if she wanted to make Johnny really excited to talk to girls. . .I’m sorry, that just didn’t happen. And she kept saying “where’s the textual evidence?” and I’m like read your fucking book, lady! Or get a queer person to read it and explain it to you because you didn’t actually manage to make Johnny’s heterosexuality set in stone lol. I was twelve, attending Catholic school, and I was like damn that’s hella gay. Like I didn’t even really have a good concept of “gay” but I knew Johnny and Dally were pinging my gaydar haha. And I’m hella aroace and I could still see the subtext of it playing out through the book.

At her age, if Hinton really weren’t homophobic, she could probably look at what she wrote fifty years ago as a teenager and think, “huh maybe this is a little queerer than I thought I was writing back then. Welp.” Because by her own admission she says she didn’t know any queer people growing up, which lol I call BS she just didn’t know any OUT queer people. She’s one of those types of people that says, “Ask anyone if it was cute to be gay in the 60s” as if queer people didn’t exist back then with their own community.

It’s like she’s ignoring the counter-culture of hippies that came about in the 60s. And there was a queer movement from the 50s that resembled the picture of manliness, I forget what it’s called now, which is something Greasers apparently actuated by controlling their emotions and seeming utterly “cool” which honestly, is not the type of Greaser Hinton wrote about with their violent feelings haha. Plus there’s a whole punk and queer movement on the cusp of this, so Hinton can’t convince me everywhere in the 60s was homophobic. Maybe Tulsa, Oklahoma had it’s fair share of bigots but my god.

Queer people existed back then, and now we are all more widely accepted, so maybe instead of contributing to a stifling culture of authorial intent of heteronormativity, how about she reconsider what it could mean for her characters to be considered queer in this day and age as good role models and that sure, it’s okay to be queer. Granted, the two I believe are the most queer are the ones who end up dead so it maybe just adds to the “bury your gays” trope but who knows. In that case, Hinton might think for the 60s that would actually be accurate representation. (I’m sorry, maybe that was mean lol).

Anyway, clearly I’m a little bitter over how she handled the situation because I started writing this series after all.

Johnny absolutely has PTSD! I’m glad you brought that up because you’re right, I haven’t mentioned it in this series yet. But it’s very important to consider that Johnny comes from an abusive and neglectful home, and then he gets attacked by the Socs which is a hugely traumatic event. The kid is a mess, and I feel so badly for him because he’s just trying to survive. But absolutely it’s a concept that isn’t recognized in the book, and honestly I think it’s difficult for kids and even teens to recognize trauma and PTSD for what it is. I know I didn’t recognize being in an abusive situation until much later in life. And it seems like the type of household Johnny came from was common in the 60s because I hear stories from my mom and even my gramma that make me go “wtf that is abusive as shit.” So I definitely think Hinton herself didn’t realize she was writing a character with PTSD as we would analyze it now.

That’s why it is interesting that Cherry does recognize that Johnny has had some kind of trauma. I absolutely believe it’s leaking from Johnny’s pores most of the time, and sometimes stuff like that is more obvious to people who don’t see a person every day. And Pony definitely doesn’t have the vocabulary or knowledge of PTSD, so you’re right, that may very well be why Pony describes Johnny as shy. Because Pony also describes Johnny as looking like a kicked puppy most days, and I just ugh cry a little. It absolutely sounds like Two-Bit triggers a dissociative episode, but that Pony would only see it as Johnny being jumpy and scared. Like Pony would just have no concept of how traumatic the attack was for Johnny, even despite Pony having his own form of PTSD after the death of his parents, which we see a reoccurrence of after Johnny’s death. Just all around, I feel so much for these boys.

I could chalk this up to Hinton’s writing, but again she was a teenager herself, so I want to say that she just needed a narrative device of trauma without necessarily seeing what that means for the characters. Having the narrator say Johnny is shy when he really doesn’t exhibit that behavior just shows me that Hinton didn’t have a great grasp on what she was writing either. That’s why many readers have such a different reaction to the story because we recognize the trauma, the PTSD, the abuse, and yes, the queer subtext. But these are issues that I never heard discussed in any classes, it was always the Socs versus the Greasers and what “the same sunset” bullshit means and asking about the abuse without framing it as abuse. It’s like only a surface-level reading of these characters that I could never stand because I saw so much more to them. It’s a pity that Hinton can’t see beyond the surface of the story she wrote either.

So yeah, anyway. Long post is long, and I hope my rambling made some sort of sense?? Uh, I ALWAYS want discussions like this, even on previous posts or just on their own if you say, “hey I was thinking about this” like I will be right on your page!! Sorry for bombarding you with such a lengthy, nonsensical response, but thank you for having discussions with me, it makes my life meaningful and my special interest in The Outsiders feel like it hasn’t been wasted the last uh almost couple decades haha.

[scoopsohboi]

im about to get into it so if you don’t want literally all my personal baggage please scroll on. 

this is longer than i planned oh god im sorry.

i honestly dont know what to do anymore. all ive ever wanted was fucking peace but some people love to argue and push people and find it fun. my sister and i never got along as kids but i would try so damn hard to be on her good side because shes four years older and everyone always thinks shes funny. but shes so rude. shes loves to put people down and her favorite damn thing is being right, or at least winning. 

but shes my sister, and the only one i have, and all ive ever wanted was someone i could look up to. someone i could tell everything to and someone who would be there for me when i needed someone. 

she was, sometimes, but her grains of sweetness are always wiped clean with her tidal waves of negativity. 

she’d tell me the things i liked were dumb and boyish, trying to make me feel bad about the fact that i wore graphic shirts and no makeup. my lack of relationships and the few i actually did have.

i used to be so extroverted and outgoing as a child. i was goofy and unapologetic and open. but she made me feel ashamed for having opinions. for having thoughts. everything i did was wrong and all i wanted was to be accepted. 

so it continued. 

and i would swallow everything i thought and tried to be more like her because at the end of the day it was still us in this house. and i would hate myself for some of our conversations. i would hate everything. but she would actually talk to me. and we would shop together. and when she moved out there were sleepovers and cooking and laughter. it wasn’t how id always wanted, but i finally had a relationship with her. 

it was ongoing. 

she got married to a man with similar ideals and though i tried to stay close to them, the things they said never changed and i couldn’t keep ignoring it. the racist and bigoted comments. the political views being shoved down my throat at every turn.

so we had a big fight. an ugly fight. id never risen my voice before that moment and i never have since. i loath yelling but god this woman pushed me farther than she ever had before. we were screaming. i pleaded for it to stop as she said i was free to leave. so i left.

ive been unable to be intimate with anyone because i cant share that part of myself with them. i cant stay in a relationship because more often than not im too in my own head, unable to make myself say the most basic opinions and thoughts because im ashamed to even exist. 

i started to fall into depression in eighth grade(07). she moved out when i was a freshman(08). got married a year after i graduated(2013). i moved to la for college three years later(2016). a few months later, she asks me if im gay and i come out to her as bi. a few months later our big screaming fight. 

then they try to move to georgia, shitty things happen to them, and theyre back a few months later, moving into my bedroom at my parents house. i now sleep in my dads home office. i start spending as little time at home as possible and only stop by for a weekend every month despite being only a couple hrs away by car. 

ff to march of this year. i just got my bachelors degree and mainly live back home. they have a baby. they make a big deal out of how they don’t like my brother-in-law’s mom, and how his family can be psycho. my sister says at the babyshower she doesn’t want people to suddenly be nice to them because theyre having a baby. so i dont. i keep cordial and polite, but not “Friendly.”

so my nephew is born. hes perfect and beautiful and i love him so damn much. but she tells me she doesnt see it from me. that i dont care. that i dont want to be in his life. weeks pass of me crying because i cant get to know my nephew and she just gives me looks every time im in the room. 

then we have a talk. an understanding it seems. and she wants me in his life. hallelujah. 

but thats not the end. i dont know i ever thought it would be. 

i tried to be friendly. to ask her about him every morning. to play with him. she was having me help her feed him and it was great. but then her husband cornered me. asking me one night a few months back why i “dont like to him like i used to” (waaay back in 2012). hes hurt, and i can see he doesnt get it. so i explain calmly that i dont want all the negative conversations. that i dont think like them and thats okay but i dont want their republican bs in my face. and this dude has the nerve to tell me hes open minded as shit and that i need to be more like him. that he hasnt changed and that he never forces his views on anyone. 

i was truly shook. 

i told him firmly that i needed space.

so its been awkward to say the least. we don’t really talk. my sister is different every day. i ways say ‘good morning’ to her, but most of the time she turns to look at me, then just looks back at her son without a word. i lock myself in my bedroom until about 9pm everyday, only coming out to use the bathroom or get food. 

i feel like less than a person. i want to be able to talk to my parents but every time she hears someones voice in the house she has to run out with her baby and have it be all about her and i really dont fucking get it. 

tonight she blew up on me because i was cleaning up after her cats (getting nasty vomit on my hands), and she was standing in the walkway with her son and i was having to dodge them with disgusting hands like bruh, move? and then she said i was slamming doors (hello nasty ass fucking hands??!?) and how she couldve cleaned it and how i shouldnt be mad. like....

you wouldnt have cleaned it? or you wouldve been doing it already?

and she said i wake up my nephew every day slamming doors. like girl. i stay in my damn room until yall go to sleep. i stay out of your life. i dont make much noise during the night. her son does wake up every night at 11-11:30, not my fault though. and she wakes up at like 7am and plays with him right outside my door so, bitsh, you wake me up everyday??

im just really fucking sick of this house and this family and this existence.

ive been hella depressed since february when a friend of mine got into a really bad breakup and almost died. i spiralled down trying to lift him up and now im still down in it and hes no where to be found. ive started cutting again. not often but when it gets too hard to handle. 

i just wish i had people to hold me when i feel like its all too much.

i wish the people i cared about cared more about me.  

[oldguardaudio]

Rush Limbaugh gives a History Lesson on the True History of the Statue of Liberty

Rush Limbaugh Combat the Drive-By Media at HoaxandChange.com

rush obama shadow government against trump at HoaxAndChange.com

Rush USA Flag at HoaxAndChange.com

The True History of the Statue of Liberty

Aug 3, 2017

  RUSH: Having more fun than a human being should be allowed to have. El Rushbo illustrating one of the most important, paramount teachable moments in the history of the EIB Network.

Here’s Jim Acosta at CNN. By the way, Jim Acosta, after having been humiliated by Stephen Miller, after having been exposed as an idiot, as an uneducated, maleducated putz, has continued to tweet the last 24 hours total error-filled disinformation about the Statue of Liberty and how Trump’s immigration policy is basically an attack on the Statue of Liberty.

The Statue of Liberty has nothing to do with immigration, folks. It had nothing to do with immigration. The Emma Lazarus poem did not appear on the pedestal for years and years and years after the Statue of Liberty was deployed in New York Harbor. The Statue of Liberty does not point to the United States. The Statue of Liberty points outward, away from the United States. It is a beacon of liberty and freedom for the rest of the world. It has nothing to do with immigration.

But that Emma Lazarus poem has been taught as U.S. immigration policy: “Give me your tired, give me your thirsty, give me your hungry, give me your poor, give me your transgendered,” throw that in there. Give me everybody who’s a victim of the evil in the world and the United States will take them. That’s not immigration policy. That’s not what the poem was meant to do.

The poem and the Statue of Liberty are two separate entities. They were not created together, never intended to be deployed together. It is one of the most egregious examples of disinformation that is being taught throughout the American education system today. And one of the primary victims of this miseducation is Jim Acosta, who is a reporter at CNN. He got first crack at Stephen Miller yesterday.

ACOSTA: What the President’s proposing here does not sound like it’s in keeping with American tradition when it comes to immigration. The Statue of Liberty says, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” It doesn’t say anything about speaking English or being able to be a computer programmer. Aren’t you trying to change what it means to be an immigrant coming into this country, if — if you’re telling them, “You have to speak English”? Can’t people learn how to speak English when they get here?

RUSH: Now, there may be some bias in here and there may be some devotion to the liberal jeopardy, but folks, there’s abject — I’m trying to look for the polite word. It’s ignorance, abject ignorance here. Mr. Acosta, stupidity, it’s a qualitative thing. I’m talking about how little he knows, combined with the smug arrogance that he knows more than anybody.

Those two things are some of the most irritating personality quirks I ever run into. People that don’t know diddly-squat who think they’re experts. And this guy is the champion of this. In his mind, the Statue of Liberty, the Emma Lazarus poem, that’s immigration policy, right there. It doesn’t say anything about computer science, Miller. It doesn’t say anything about speaking English, Miller. Aren’t you turning immigration policy upside down? Immigration is not an entitlement, Acosta. Anyway, here’s how Miller dealt with it in the first phase.

MILLER: Right now it’s a requirement that to be naturalized, you have to speak English. So the notion that speaking English wouldn’t be a part of immigration systems would be, actually, very ahistorical. Secondly, the Statue of Liberty is a symbol of liberty enlightening the world. It’s a symbol of American liberty lighting the world. The poem that you’re referring to was added later. It’s not actually part of the original Statue of Liberty. But more fundamentally…

ACOSTA: Stephen, I’m sorry…

MILLER: No, here, here…

ACOSTA: …that sounds like, that sounds like…

MILLER: Jim, let me ask you a question.

ACOSTA: …that sounds like some national park revisionism.

MILLER: No. What I’m asking you is… (laughter)

ACOSTA: The Statue, the Statue of Liberty…

MILLER: Jim.

ACOSTA: …has always been…

MILLER: Jim, let me ask you a question.

Acosta: … a beacon of hope to the world.

RUSH: Beacon of hope to the world. National Park revisionism. So Miller points out the truth of the statue of Statue of Liberty and the truth of the Emma Lazarus poem, which I have for you coming up. I took the time back in 2010 to explain it, July 1st. It takes a couple and a half minutes, and I’m gonna get to it. But here you have National Park revisionism? He’s accusing Miller of believing a conspiracy to rewrite the meaning of the Statue of Liberty and the Emma Lazarus poem. That is stupidity. That’s ignorance.

This is classic. This is why we’re stymied, this is why we’re paralyzed, this is why it’s impossible to make progress. We have members of Congress who may also be this stupid, members of the Senate who may also be this ignorant. Who simply don’t know the truth and facts about things. Who may look at immigration as an entitlement rather than an actual policy that’s been created for the benefit of the United States of America and its people. I’m gonna get my bit from 2010 in before this hour ends. July 1st, 2010, this program.

RUSH ARCHIVE: The Emma Lazarus poem, “Give me your tired, your poor, your hungry, huddled masses,” blah, blah, blah, does not and never has appeared on the Statue of Liberty. It was a poem written in a contest to raise money to build the pedestal for the Statue of Liberty. It was not even put on display inside the exhibit, inside the pedestal until years later. “The New Colossus” is the title of it. It was written in 1883. In 1903, 20 years later, it was engraved on a bronze plaque and mounted inside the Statue of Liberty. You don’t go to the Statue of Liberty, wander around outside and see “The New Colossus” as part of the design on the outside of the Statue of Liberty.

The Statue of Liberty was never meant to be a symbol of immigration. It was meant to be a symbol of liberty and freedom. The Statue of Liberty as designed and constructed had nothing to do with what Emma Lazarus wrote, and it’s another distortion of the left to suggest that this country was founded for the express purpose of taking anybody, anywhere, any planet, any country, who wanted to come into the country, under the guise that they were poor, they were huddled, they were hungry, they were thirsty.

It was not about immigration at all. It was about liberty. We don’t call it the Statue of Immigration. We call it the Statue of Liberty. It was dedicated October 28th, 1886. It is a monument commemorating the centennial of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Nothing to do with immigration. It commemorated the Declaration of Independence. The French did it. So profound did everyone in the world think the Declaration was, and in fact Abraham Lincoln often gave it more weight than the Constitution itself in terms of its deep meaning. Lady Liberty is stepping forward. She is meant to be carrying the torch of liberty from the United States to the rest of the world. The torch is not to light the way to the United States. It is to light the way to liberty to the rest of the world. Lady Liberty is carrying the light of liberty to the rest of the world. It is not a beacon for immigrants to get to this country because they’re tired, they’re poor, they’re huddled, hungry, or thirsty

RUSH: And yet how many of you don’t know that? How many of you have been taught the fallacious aspects of this like you were taught a bunch of BS about Thanksgiving? And because of the degree of ignorance in citadels of learning, we’re paralyzed. We can’t mauve forward. An immigration policy that’s the most sensible thing that’s come down the pike in 30 years is now racist and bigoted, and it won’t pass the Congress.

BREAK TRANSCRIPT

RUSH: Little Jimmy Acosta Googled all night looking for evidence the Statue of Liberty is related to our immigration policy. And of course he’s able to find some because there’s idiocy everywhere and Google happens to return idiocy first on practically every search result. Doesn’t make it right.

BREAK TRANSCRIPT

RUSH: That Emma Lazarus poem, “Give me your tired, your poor, your hungry, your thirsty, your transgendered…” Give me your whatever. The only reason that that poem was put up was to raise money for the pedestal. The Statue of Liberty did not come with a pedestal. The French left off the dock, if you will, in common Millennial terms. You have an iPhone dock, an iPad? They gave us the statue. They gave us the phone, but no charging dock. So we had to build the dock, and the poem was to raise money for the pedestal. (chuckling)

It was a contest, for crying out loud! It was not immigration policy. It never has been immigration policy. The left converted it to that because it satisfied their needs. But the poem, if you read the whole thing — which I’m not gonna do here — it’s only partially about accepting people into the country. It’s mostly about how we are a beacon of freedom, which is all the Statue of Liberty was intended to be. It had nothing to do with immigration!

From the moment it was designed to the moment it was sculpted to the moment it was shipped and delivered, it had nothing to do with immigration. It has, today, nothing to do with immigration policy. And yet here’s an entire — an entire — United States White House press corps and probably everybody else in the media who is totally ignorant of it. And how about the idea that the media now sees fit to conduct debates with briefers in the Trump press briefing room? The press has become — this is not news — a bunch of activists.

So, as I’ve told you, there isn’t any news. They’re not looking for news. These people are looking to destroy anything other than their agenda. But aside from the politics of this, folks, in the real world this ignorance — or if you don’t want to accept that it’s ignorance, this bias. Whatever you want to call it, it is paralyzing us. I cannot make this point too much. I can’t pound it too often. It is paralyzing us. This legislation probably doesn’t stand a chance.

It doesn’t stand a chance in Congress because there’s so much ignorance — and there has been so much misinformation and disinformation — that it’s gonna be very easy to characterize this as a discriminating, mean-spirited piece of legislation, when in fact it is the exact opposite! It is to benefit the United States of America. It is to benefit the people that we decide to let in and become citizens, and that is totally up to us. It isn’t an entitlement program. It’s not about benefits to anybody. It’s about how you earn the ability to come to and stay in the United States.

It is the antithesis of an entitlement.

But I fear it doesn’t have a prayer. This little debate in the White House press corps yesterday is enough to scare off your typical member of Congress who would rather not take the time — as I have here — to explain how false and erroneous this argument is. Rather than stand up for the bill, rather than stand up for the legislation — and because Trump has his fingerprints on it, that’s another reason. “We can’t let it happen! We can’t have Trump have a success! Oh, no way.” So something profoundly decent? Very, very progressive in terms of improving things?

Very, very good? Very, very substantial? It doesn’t stand a prayer because way too many people in our country are unable to accept, discern, and process common sense. And again, this arrogant smugness that accompanies this stupidity or ignorance is beyond frustrating. Now, to wrap this up (’cause there are other things plus your phone calls), I have just two more sound bites here of Jim Acosta and Steve Miller. Now, the media was saying, “This Acosta is great! He really took it to Miller. He showed Miller what he’s really all about. He exposed Miller as a fraud.”

Anybody with an open mind and a modicum of understand understands that Jim Acosta of CNN was yet again profoundly embarrassed. But he doesn’t have the sense to know how exposed he was yesterday as an illiterate. He’s running around puffing himself up on Twitter and trying to find Google searches that back up his belief that Statue of Liberty is immigration policy! That poem, the Emma Lazarus poem, was it appended to the Constitution? No. It was appended to the statue — and you can’t even see it unless you go inside.

It’s not even on the outside of the statue. There’s no way an arriving immigrant said, “Hey, I’m one of the hungry! I’m one of the thirsty! Hey, I’m one of the people that’s talking about,” ’cause that’s not what it’s about. You went through Ellis Island, right, when you wanted to come? That was one of the…? (chuckles) Well, never mind. A couple sound bites. I don’t… (interruption) Well, I just wondered something. “Are you thirsty?” I wonder if that’s one of the questions they were asked.

“Are you transgendered? Are you a victim? Are you a victim of wherever you come from?” Of course not. “Do you sleep with pigs? Do you hang around with pigs? What kind of person are you? “We’re looking for the dregs of society to let into our country, here.” It’s not what happened, and yet that’s what people want us to believe. That’s the kind of thing that determined whether or not somebody got into this country. (interruption) Wipe that expression… (interruption)

That express… (interruption) Snerdley thinks I’ve stepped over a line here. I haven’t stepped over any kind of a line here. I’m trying to illustrate. I keep going! I keep going until I think I have hit gold in the art of persuasion. (laughing) I saw how they reacted to Miller. Well, here’s more of that. We’ve just got two of these sound bites. It’s Stephen Miller and Jim Acosta again with the ongoing debate over the immigration bill.

MILLER: In 1970 when we let in 300,000 a year, was that violating or not violating the Statue of Liberty law of the land?

ACOSTA: (silence)

MILLER: In the 1990s, when it was half a million a year, was it violating or not violating the Statue of Liberty law of the land?

ACOSTA: (confused pause) Was it violating —

MILLER: When it was 700,000 a year…?

ACOSTA: Was it violating the Statue of Liberty —

MILLER: No, tell me what years. Tell me what years Jim Acosta’s definition of the Statue of Liberty poem law of the land? So you’re saying a million a year is the Statue of Liberty number; 900,000 violates it; 800,000 violates it?

ACOSTA: Y-y-you’re sort of bringing a “press one for English” —

MILLER: Jim?

ACOSTA: — philosophy here to immigration, and that’s never —

MILLER: Jim?

ACOSTA: — been what — what the United States has been about, Stephen. That’s just the basics.

MILLER: But you’re also… Your statement’s also shockingly ahistorical in another respect, too, which, if you look at the history of immigration, it’s actually ebbed and flowed. We’ve had periods of very large waves followed by periods of less immigration and more immigration.

RUSH: This idiot, Acosta, doesn’t even realize that he’s being mocked and humiliated. “The Statue of Liberty the law of the land? What is the Statue of Liberty law of the land? Is it 900,000? What’s the Statue of Liberty law of the land? Is it 700,000? What is it, Jim? Were we violating the Statue of Liberty law of the land when…?” “No. No, Stephen. We’re simply talking about how the United States has been a beacon, Stephen.” “Well, what’s the limit here? What’s the Statue of Liberty law of the land limit?” Acosta didn’t get it! So Acosta, desperate to get the last word in…

ACOSTA: The whole notion of, “Well, they could learn… You know, they have to learn English before they get to the United States.” Are we just gonna bring in people from Great Britain and Australia?

MILLER: I am shocked at your statement that you think that only people from Great Britain and Australia would know English. It’s absolutely… It reveals your cosmopolitan bias to a shocking degree that in your mind —

ACOSTA: (sputtering)

MILLER: No, this is an amazing —

ACOSTA: (sputtering)

MILLER: This is an amazing moment. This is an amazing moment. That you think only people from Great Britain or Australia would speak English is so insulting to millions of hardworking immigrants who do speak English from all over the world.

ACOSTA: (sputtering) I — I — I —

MILLER: Jim, that is one of the most outrageous, insulting, ignorant, and foolish things you ever said.

RUSH: (laughing) That’s why casual observers think that Stephen Miller wiped the floor with Acosta. But Acosta still didn’t know what had happened to him there. He still didn’t know! At the moment Miller’s going through all of that, Acosta thinks that Miller is the idiot, that Miller is the impolite, brusque and rude Trumpist. Acosta doesn’t have the slightest idea what he’s talking about.

In Acosta’s world the only people that speak English are other white people and they’re in Great Britain and Australia, and outside of that nobody else speaks English. And so Miller and Trump don’t want anybody but Brits and Australians to be admitted into the country. “Is that what you’re saying, Stephen?” And Miller is shocked at the limited worldview, which he called cosmopolitan. (laughing)

Acosta hasn’t the slightest idea what has happened here. He didn’t realize until I’m sure he started reading reviews of this and saw that many people thought the floor had been wiped with him that he started getting defensive and searching on Google for evidence that the Statue of Liberty is, in fact, immigration policy.

Rush Limbaugh gives a History Lesson on the True History of the Statue of Liberty Rush Limbaugh gives a History Lesson on the True History of the Statue of Liberty The True History of the Statue of Liberty…