#i wanted to include albert but all the places that it made sense to put him were things i didn't want to sacrifice

[rathockey]

911 + Body Terror Song/AJJ

[kaijime]

watch your mouth

includes. osamu miya x f!reader

cw. corruption kink, virgin reader/first time, osamu wants to breed u <33, dubcon, kitchen sex? [it’s in his shop so?], fingering, pierced dick [prince albert piercing], vaginal penetration, size kink, praise kink, tummy bulge, breeding kink, slight dumbification, creampie, thigh slapping?

wc. 3k

a/n. my piece for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab, thank you for letting me join!!

osamu miya likes to think he follows a strict routine. he wakes up early, shows up for his job, works, and goes home, waiting for tomorrow to arrive and the cycle to repeat itself.

but ever since you've entered his restaurant, you've become a part of his routine.

he sits behind the kitchen counter, watching in admiration how you tend to the customers. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't staring at your ass, but it’s not a lie if he doesn't say it right?

"samu?" there's that nickname again, the one you deemed him ever since that interview for the part time job. "this customer says you forgot to give her a part of her order"

"no i didn't"

"yeah, look" you approach him with the receipt in hand, pointing to a small part of the inked writing. "see?"

he can't see. or at least he can't see the receipt. he's too focused on you, pressing up against him. he knows you're not at fault, but you couldn't be that innocent.

you couldn't be innocent enough to not know the things you were doing to him, the things you were making him feel, the urges that blossomed with every lingering look and longing touch you left on his body. you just couldn't be.

right?

yet, even when his idiotic brother dropped by his shop and shamelessly started flirting with you, you, it seemed like you didn't catch onto what he was doing.

"what's the freakiest place you've ever had sex in?" the fake blond asked, and osamu would've stopped him, if he wasn't curious to hear the answer for himself. still, he doesn't drive his full attention away from the counters he's been wiping, seemingly focused on the simple task.

you chuckled awkwardly under your breath. "that's inappropriate, tsu-"

"c'mon, tell me" he bumps his elbow against yours "can't be that bad"

"no i-... i've never uhm..." osamu can tell you're stumbling and stuttering to find an answer, so he lends you a few helping words.

"'tsumu” he calls "will ya stop harrassin' my employees?"

"'m just talkin' to her samu, no need to make a big fuss" he downs the last of his food and leaves, supposedly in a sudden rush.

it doesn't seem like it’s been hours since then, but the moon hangs low, and the crickets sing outside the window in spite of the late hour. despite the passing of time, not a single word has been said between you and your boss about the conversation you had with his brother, and every minute that passes only seems to thicken the tension between the two of you.

"shit" you mumble, mostly to yourself. you didn’t expect him to shoot up from his place, bent down searching through the lower cabinets.

"watch yer mouth" he says, an evident frown on his face, where he would once smile at you and nod in greeting.

"sorry" you reply, lip pouting slightly while you cleaned off your finger with a paper towel "just got a papercut" the blood tints the paper red and you wince at the stinging sensation.

"here" he holds out his hand to examine yours, even though you already cleaned most of it off, there's still a slight trickle of blood. he wipes it out with the towel he always hangs on his shoulder.

as he cleans your hand, he can't help but think about how it'd look so pretty wrapped around his cock. it would certainly bring more relief than his fist after all this time he's spent thinking about you while stroking himself late at night.

it’s not the first time thoughts like these cloud osamu's mind, but this time he's a little less discreet about it. he stares at your hand like he wants to devour it, and you'd be a fool not to notice it.

"samu?" you call out to his faraway mind, and he snaps out of his thoughs, loosening his grip around your hand.

"right" he mumbles, clearing his throat "sorry"

"thank you" you almost whisper, if he wasn't so close to you, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

he turns and goes back to the cabinets, thinking about what you answered earlier. you'd never what? had sex? were you that uncorrupted?

it would make sense to him, and it would help ease the pain of seeing you let his brother flirt with you like he wasn't even there, but those are all selfish reasons he wants to believe, and he's too scared to ask.

apparently not scared enough.

“what were ya talkin’ about with my brother” he asks, nonchalant as ever, making your breath hitch as you turned around hesitantly.

“we were just chatting” you say, the slightest purse on your lips that tried to relieve the nervousness of the conversation.

“sorry about that” he apologizes. “he can be annoyin’ sometimes”

“oh no, he wasn’t” you lie, clenching around the table cloth you held in your hands. even if the talk had been going smoothly, you still felt on edge after the question his brother left you thinking about. “he was really friendly”

“really?” his hands find comfort in his pockets, and if you’d looked close enough, you would’ve seen the slight smirk in his lip, one that indicates how eager he is to hear what you had to say. “then why didn’ you answer his question?”

if only you knew how much it mattered to him, to know if you were a pretty untouched virgin or not. osamu miya likes to go for girls like you, college girls who look for a quick cashgrab as a part time employee, innocent little girls who unknowingly fall for his charms and next thing you know he’s ruining them with his cock.

but you feel different, you feel delicate. like a pretty piece of porcelain he might break if he continues to toy with you under his calloused hands. yet, he can’t help but think about how perfect he finds your body. perfectly ripe and ready to be filled to the brim with his seed, the perfect age to be plump and round with a child. his child.

“does it matter?”

oh, it does, especially when he pins you against the counter and grips your cheeks between his thumb and his index finger. “samu?” you ask, displaying that innocent look on your face he’d grown to hate.

“i told ya to watch yer mouth” his hands roam down your body until they grab at the back of your thighs. “now jump”

“samu i- i’ve never done anything like-“

“i said jump” hesitant with your actions, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist as he settles you on the shop counter, where he takes off your pants and runs a finger over your clothes slit.

“please” you grip his wrist and beg in hopes for him to stop, but he slaps it away, pinning them behind you with his other hand. he slides your panties down your legs and plays with your clit, circling the nub with his fingertips and watching as your expression changes from one of fear to pleasure.

“please what?” his breath shudders against your neck, where he nuzzles his head and finds comfort in your scent. he slowly inserts a finger into your hole, scanning your face and searching for any signs of discomfort, despite him practically forcing you into this position.

you’re not strong enough to answer him, too lost in the way his fingers feel inside you. you’d been too afraid to do anything by yourself, but god did it feel so good when you gave yourself up to him, slightly bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers and arching your back into his frame.

he’s fond of every little expression you make, the bite of your lips, the clench of your thighs around his hand, and the tilt of your head, willingly granting him access to the skin, all for him to mark, bite and suck. all for him to claim as his.

“d’ya like it?” he asks, putting another one of his fingers to use inside your tight walls, feeling them clench and suck his fingers back inside every time he was close to taking them out.

“yes! yes! i-i... mmh!” you can’t even finish the sentence, not only because you’re sobbing and clenching around his digits uncontrollably at the foreign yet pleasurable sensation, but also because his lips suddenly enclosed yours in a hungry kiss.

he didn’t even have to put up a fight with you, pleased to find you let him do whatever he wanted with your mouth. his tongue tangles with yours in a passionate clash of lips, until he pulls away at the feeling of your hips wildly bucking against his hand, a sign of your inevitable orgasm approaching.

“feels weird ‘samu! ‘s-‘samu please!” the implication of your sensations being new to you made his cock strained against his pants, threatening the thick fabric of his jeans to snap if he grew even harder. the tight knot in your stomach finally snaps when he curls his fingers, sending you into ecstasy as your vision blocked out and you moaned uncontrollably loud.

still, after everything, osamu hasn’t forgotten where he is, and he knows his shop isn’t a decent place to lose your virginity. so he puts you down with shaky legs and slips up your panties, catching you before your trembling thighs can treason you and make you fall.

“do ya have a car here?” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and puts a hand on your hip, guiding you over to the door which he locks before he continues to walk to his car. the dim lighting of the parking made this the perfect spot, if he were to fuck you in his car, no one would see it. but he has self control, or at least he tells himself that.

“no, my friend usually picks me up” he hums an answer and opens the passenger door to his car.

“i live a few minutes from here” he explains “wanna come over?” he asks, fully aware that he’s taking a leap of faith and you could just refuse him. but that’s not the case, and he’s more than happy to see you hesitantly get in his car and put your bag in your lap, covering yourself as much as you can since he ‘forgot’ to give you back your shorts.

the short ride to his house is awkwardly silent, and terribly torturous. his hand had found home in your thigh, and it had only sent an ache between your legs like you’d never felt before, prompting a clench from your thighs every so often.

he wasn’t lying, he only lived ten minutes away from his shop, but the distance seemed so much longer when his lingering touch would leave you high with the need for more.

“you ready?” he asks, holding the door open for you again as he waits for you to take his hand and get out of his car. he’s quick with hoisting you up and wrapping your thighs against his hips, carrying you to his doorway and leading the way to his room. there, he gently placed you on the bed and stripped off his clothing, taking off the apron he should’ve taken off at the shop, his shirt, his pants and—

“eager?” he can see the wanting look in your eyes, he’d be a fool not to notice it. his voice only startles you out of your thoughts, enough to make you stand up and take off your shirt as well, now fully exposed to him if it weren’t for the bra covering up your tits. there’s only so much he can hold back, but right now, with those pretty puppy eyes you unintentionally give him, he just can’t help it when he takes off your bra and slightly suckles at your nipple, circling his tongue around your perky nub and watching your face warm up in embarrassment.

he takes you to his bed again, this time while he plants kisses all over your neck. he’s hungry with the way he nips and bites at the skin, leaving a trail of teeth marks that would need to be covered up in the morning. in the morning, because right now, you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else other than the way he rutted against you.

his cock already seemed big when he hadn’t taken off his briefs, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he slipped them off and rubbed his tip against your clit, right?

he was huge, thick tip dripping precum, with a girth that looked too big to be real, pulsing against your pussy. he positions it against your drooling hole, using your slick to lube up his tip and feeling— metal?

you sit up, leaning against your elbows to see the prince albert piercing that runs along his tip, metal jewelry threatening to slip into your pussy, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“i-it won’t fit!” you kick and shake your thighs around him, only for him to put your ankles together and fold your legs over his shoulder, pinning you down and slipping in the pierced head of his cock. you wince and gasp at the sudden stretch, silenced by his mouth clashing against yours, eagerly nipping at your bottom lip, desperate to drink in all your saccharine moans.

“good girl” he praises, slipping in inch by inch of his cock into your tight virgin walls “fuck- this tight little cunt is suckin’ me in, want ma cock princess? yeah? gonna stuff ya full of me ‘til ya can’t even speak, you’ll just be a dumb baby for me”

“hurts!” your words only drive him closer to shoving himself in one smooth thrust, but he holds back, he sees how much you struggle to take barely half of him, he wants to make this good for you to. he wants to make your first time your best time, the one you’ll remember and think about if you ever fuck another man. he wants to mold your insides to fit his cock perfectly, he wants to train you to be his perfect little girl who won’t find another way to get off if she doesn’t have his cock, he wants you to depend on him to always make you feel good.

“‘s ok princess” he leans down, folding you into a mating press as he kisses your neck and slips in the last of his cock, covered in a thin layer of white sheen. “my good girl, creamin’ around me” he mumbles against your ear while he starts a slow pace into your pussy, carefully rutting his hips into you, almost afraid he would break you. “so pretty”

“please!” you sob, tears stream down your face despite his carefulness, it would break his heart, but he can feel the way your own body betrays you, clenching around him and pulling him in for more of the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls. “so big! c-can’t take it!”

“sure ya can, look” he puts a hand to your tummy, guiding you to do the same as he puts his hand over yours. there’s a small bulge, that appears and disappears whenever he thrusts in and out. “you’re takin’ it so well princess, keep yer hand right there” his other hand starts working tight circles against your clit, making you throw back your head at the sudden sensation.

“no! if you do that i-!”

“what are ya gonna do? cum? clench around my cock like yer doin’ right now every time i praise ya?” you fist the sheets to your sides, anything to relieve the aching between your legs and the tight knot that keeps forming in your stomach again.

“please don’t!” you desperately paw at his wrist, only to be slapped away and for him to increase the speed of his cock, rutting into your with more force. suddenly, the head of his piercing hits a different spot, one that left you gasping for air and arching your back against the mattress. “ah! right there- right there ‘samu!”

“yeah? you like it when i fuck ya right there?” he parrots, angling his hips at the same spot over and over, abusing it until he’s sloppily thrusting into you, on the verge of cumming and spilling all his load into you. “my pretty girl, moanin’ like a bitch in heat, all because i’m makin’ ya feel good”

“yes ‘samu! please please, please m-make me feel good! wanna cum, please!” fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you scream and beg for him, unwillingly rutting your hips against him as you cum around his cock, your high too much for your sensitive body as you whine uncontrollably when he doesn’t stop. you’re too overstimulated to say a word, gone too dumb on his cock to even realize that you’re babbling little nonsense words about how good you feel, and how much you want him.

“dumb lil’ thing” he says, giving one sharp, final thrust before he empties his load between your legs, deep inside you, careful not to move you too much in fear of his cum spilling out of your clenching hole.

he’s right, you are a dumb little thing, because as soon as he pulls out you’re desperately bucking your hips, blindly searching for him in hope he would fill up the sudden emptiness in your pussy, unintentionally spilling all his hard work between your thighs.

“no!” he grunts, slapping your thigh and grounding you to the mattress as you wince in pain, dark color blossoming at the skin where he’d placed the spank. “look what you’ve done, bad fuckin’ girl” he says, the sudden tone shift sends a tinge of fear all over your body, and you’re reduced to nothing but a kin to a stray puppy, a terrible look of guilt in your eyes, even if you don’t realize what you’ve done wrong.

“look at the mess you made” he mumbles, flipping you over and placing ass up “now i’m gonna have to fill ya up all over again”

©️ kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[pokenimagines]

can you do something for guzma and a s/o that is tatted all up & down and has tons of piercings everywhere ((emphasis on everywhere))? [sin preferably but ofc this is ur blog :>]

Sin is my specialty dear. Also went the “tattoo artist” reader route because uh plot.

Discord (16+) - Request Information 

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

NSFW Guzma: Tattoos and Piercings

Something you always teased Guzma about were his fake tattoos and lack of piercings. He always put up a front of being this total badass, but he was just a goo ball that melted anytime you sang his name. You couldn’t help but tease him, especially pointing out that your own goo ball self was technically more badass with the amount of piercings and tattoos you had.

So Guzma finally decided to change that. He had texted you while you were at work saying he wanted to officially get a tattoo, a wimpod on his right pectoral muscle. Something he wanted for a while that you two had discussed in depth. It would look like it was clinging onto him, but glaring outward. It was going to be badass as well as something that kind of shows where he came from in a sense. His partner Pokémon, Golisopod was also excited about it whenever you two spoke.

So there you were, in your private tattoo parlor on Poni Island waiting for your boyfriend to show up. You had everything set up, including some body jewelry in case he finally let you also pierce his nipples. Another thing you guys had discussed in a more private setting. That and a Prince Albert but you doubted he was ready for that.

As soon as your last client of the day left the shop you heard the door bell ring again as Guzma walked in.

“Just in time, lock the door behind you and turn the ‘Open’ sign off for me.” You directed as you began putting your gloves on. You already had the stencil made for him, knowing the size you’d be needing from previous temporary tattoos you’d done on him.

“So demanding of your client already.” He grumbled while doing just as you said.

“A client who’s getting a free service, mind you. Wanna do your boob piercings tonight as well?” You asked nonchalantly.

“Not tonight.” He said and the way his voice wavered made you very much aware that he was nervous.

“Alright, we’ll get on the table so I can put the stencil on you. Then you can let me know how you feel about the size and placement.” You instructed him, snapping and pointed down at the table.

Guzma grumbled some more as he sat his happy ass down on your work chair. You made quick work in positioning him and he shifted a bit under your touch, “Be still, Guz.” You chided as you finished the stencil, “How does that look?”

Guzma stood up at his full height as he walked over to the body length mirror. He took a moment to look it over before nodding, “Ya, that’ll work. Come on, let’s do this already.” He said as he put up the tough guy bravado.

He sat back in your chair as you got the inks ready, “Remember not to flinch back, okay.” You said as you were a centimeter from his chest with the tattoo gun.

“I won’t, geez how many times do ya gotta tell me?” He said and you just laughed and began. To your surprise, he didn’t seem to shocked at the sensation and just sat there perfectly.

You even went as far as straddling him, not worried about anyone looking into the shop since you had a curtain pulled to obscure you two from the public eye. You sat down on his chest while working diligently, making sure all those lines were nice and crisp.

At some point his hand trailed down to your hip and placed it there, helping keep you steady as he fought back and groans from you accidentally rubbing against him.

It wasn’t until you were almost done that you noticed the hardness underneath your ass and the labored breathing of Guzma. You looked up at him and batted your eyes.

“Something wrong Guz, don’t tell me you’re secretly a huge masochist.” You said, grinding down a bit more on his length.

“F-fuck I ain’t.” He growled back, his grip on your hip tightening just a bit, “How the hell did ya expect me to react with your grinding on my cock.” He said as he leaned closer to you.

A shiver ran down your spine at that and you shook your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said, feeling his hand trail up. He traced some of the designs you wore on your arms until he decided the best thing to do was run his hand over your chest.

You arched into the touch, grinding down harder on him once he brushed up against one of your piercings.

“See, you’re the slut who’s purposely turning me on.” Guzma groaned as you wiggled a bit.

“Listen Guz, as much as I wanna ride your cock right now I need to finish this tattoo. I’m almost done.” You told him and he hummed.

“How about we play a little game?” He suggested as you went to dip into more ink.

“What game?”

“You cockwarm me while you finish this tattoo. If you’re good I’ll fuck your brains out after.” A shiver went down your spine.

“Fine…deal.”

[dumdumsun]

Forever and Never

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this series ❤️ I’ve had so much fun writing this and am very proud of and excited for it, I can’t wait to see how people react to this. Um I know there are plenty of warnings for a first chapter, but I promise it’s not as depressing as it sounds. It’s just that this story can deal with heavy stuff sometimes, so I just wanna let you know that. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, death, sexual assault and mental illness

Word Count: 3194

—————————————

One: Hi, My Name Is

“So, what was your time in Pennsylvania like?”

“Uh… I’d have to say it was the best… and worst time of my life.”

“Best and worst, huh? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Well, I, uh… I mean, I don’t really know how to, like… explain it. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin… Or how I would even word it or anything.”

“Well, you told me you like television and movies, right? You know those shows and movies where the main character tells the plot as, like, their life story? Maybe you could try that.”

“You aren’t… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, trust me.”

“Oh… Okay, then. Well, um…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi? My name is… (Y/N)? This is my life story, I guess.

So, if we’re going to talk about my life in Pennsylvania, we’re going to have to start with my life in Kansas, first. I had two loving parents that soon turned into one at the too-young age of nine years, when my mom died. I remember her as one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She had this way about her that was so carefree, yet she gave a shit about everything. You could never pin a thought to her because she never let you in on what was bouncing around in her head. She was stubborn and patient and lively. I miss her so much. I don’t usually think about her unless it’s a particularly hectic day, which I then resort to talking to the ring I wear on my left pinky finger at all times. Wasn’t anything special, just some cheap ring with a little emerald inside she found at a thrift store. It used to be hers and she’d wear it on the exact same finger. My dad said she’d want me to have it.

My dad is my favorite person. He isn’t the most… present, though. His mind is never set in one place, always racing with hundreds of unrelated thoughts. It’s why when you finally drag him back into reality, he can’t repeat a single sentence spoken to him. Regardless, he’s all I had for a long time. I never really learned what he does for a living, but I just know that it forces him to leave town sometimes. Well, more like all the time. Before my mom died, it was easy for him to leave for weeks on end, but when he became my only guardian, he didn’t really know what to do with me. It was like he completely forgot how to take care of a child, his child. When I turned twelve, that was when he started travelling again. I would then be home by myself for a month to eight weeks. In these times, I had no choice but to learn to cook for myself, go grocery shopping and housekeep. I became pretty independent at a young age. It wasn’t like Dad left me totally alone, though. He would call every two or three days and he sent me two hundred dollars every two weeks. Like I said, I don’t know what my dad did, but he was definitely getting paid. At the end of eighth grade, Dad had a particularly long trip to go on, so he sent me to Pennsylvania, where his sister lived.

Pennsylvania was partially the best part of my life because of my family. My Aunt Pam was like a second mother to me. She was never able to have another child after my cousin Jacob and she’s always wanted a daughter of her own, so that’s what I was to her. The daughter she could never have. I’d often find her staring at me with a bittersweet smile on her face, watching my every move with a sense of pride, but when I’d ask her what was wrong she’d only brush it off as her admiring me. My Uncle David didn’t necessarily view me as a daughter, but he certainly treated me like one. When he wanted to spend time with Jacob, he included me as well. We’d usually go on drives around the town, but I always fell asleep to the soft and serene music that filled the car from the radio. On the weekends, we would head down by the lake and spend hours learning to fish.

I hated it, but I couldn’t complain. It gave me a sense of certainty to live with a father figure who didn’t leave me alone every two or three months.

Jacob was like a brother to me. He’s a year older than me, which, to him, meant that he had to protect me at all costs. I always assumed it was because he always wanted a younger sibling, and I was the closest he was ever going to get to that. I always felt as though I’d never be able to equal Jacob on an intellectual level because he practically had the IQ of Albert Einstein himself. I felt inferior to him until I found out how much of a joy he really was. On the weekends, he would beg me to accompany him in a movie marathon. I learned that Jacob was a huge fan of Tim Burton (his favorite was Beetlejuice). He’s the only cousin I’ve ever known. Mom and Dad didn’t like each other’s families, so I never met anyone besides this little family. Moving in with them meant that they’d have this huge burden on them.

Yes, I almost forgot to mention that I struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. It just means that my mind is flooded with these crazy and unnecessary thoughts and so my behavior is affected by them. For example, if I were to blink and felt I put more pressure on my left eye than my right, I would have to repeatedly wink with my right eye until they felt balanced. Sometimes I can’t enter a room until I have inhaled eight times. If I scratch an itch on my left knee, I have to scratch the right one in the exact same place. At the sink, even if I don’t use both knobs, I have to hold both in my hands. And when I turn them off, I often have to check about four times before I am certain they’re turned off all the way. I know, it sounds tiring. Just imagine being on my end, having it be a part of who you are. I can’t do anything to stop it, I wish I could. I was always afraid to make friends because of this. If I couldn’t be balanced, I’d freeze, and I mean actually stop whatever I’m doing and stand still, until my body felt as if I were balanced once again. Who wouldn’t make fun of me for this?

Apparently, no one gave a shit about it. After moving to Pennsylvania, I made quite a name for myself at school. Literally. My name was Zip. I have no fucking clue how that ridiculous name came to be, but that’s what I went by day after day. One could say I was considered popular, but it wasn’t like I actually spoke to anyone. When it came to extracurriculars, I only participated in theatre. I never was part of the cast, just the stage manager. Secretly, I wanted so badly to audition and be a part of the magic they created on that stage. Not to boast or anything, but I had the talent and potential to be a starring role. But I could never bring myself to break out of my shell. Nonetheless, being stage manager still got me quite the attention. Everyone was always so nice to me, so I felt a little bad for not considering any of them as friends. That was until I met Dina.

Dina was new to our school sophomore year. She had this sort of light to her that attracted the pesky moths that were our dull and boring school body. We had the same social status in school. People liked our personalities, so we were well-liked and accepted without doing much to prove ourselves worthy. She was sweet and compassionate and so fun. I didn’t mean to become her friend, but she was so welcoming, despite being the newcomer. We became close friends, but not best friends. We already had people filling those roles.

Dina’s best friend was Sydney Novak. Sydney moved to Brownsville around the same time as Dina, so the two became best friends quickly, but Sydney wasn’t very popular at all. She was shy and introverted, but I thought she was nice enough. I liked her and thought she was a pretty cool person. We weren’t necessarily friends, we were just well acquainted simply because we were both close with Dina. The transitive property, if you would. I just wish we could’ve talked more, our relationship was pretty much nonexistent.

Speaking of nonexistent relationships, let’s talk about Richard Berry. I honestly don’t want to even think about him, but he played a role in my life that was too vital to just offhandedly mention. For some odd reason, Ricky Berry was absolutely in love with me. It was so obvious to everyone except for me. Sophomore year, he expressed his love through the most arrogant and cheesiest of pick-up lines and compliments. I wasn’t so easily won over, if you could guess. I tried being good friends with him, but he’d always fuck it up when he tried to initiate intimacy. I didn’t want to hold hands with him in the halls or receive “friendly” cheek kisses. I’m not what you would call affectionate, especially towards people I’m not close to. It’s just never been comfortable for me. Junior year, everyone around me was buzzing with excitement when they heard Ricky was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. The cheerleaders, who got to know him through his high school football career, constantly pestered me with reasons as to why I would be so lucky to date The Richard Berry. Granted, he became less of a dick junior year, so I thought, Why not?, and accepted. Being in a relationship with Ricky was the most one-sided… anything I had ever been a part of. He was undeniably enamored with me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to reciprocate those feelings. He would show me off to his family and friends like a trophy, but if someone asked me if I had a boyfriend I’d go, “I mean, yeah. I guess”, so not a very healthy relationship. It also didn’t help that Ricky knew nothing about boundaries.

One night, we were in his bedroom, studying for a science test. Ricky wasn’t focused at all and kept trying to kiss and cuddle with me. I let him for awhile, but then he took my book from me and set it on the ground beside his bed. He suggested we have sex right then and there. Now, I was never a prude and definitely didn’t wait to have sex for the first time, but I never wanted Ricky to be my first. He hadn’t earned enough of my trust to even touch me suggestively. So, of course I refused. Ricky only took that as me teasing him, so he advanced, nearly forcing himself on me. Using all my might, I shoved him off of the bed. He stood to his feet, utterly confused, but I only gathered my things and left his house. He tried following after me, but I ignored him until he turned and went back into his home. The next day at school, he was holding me and kissing me and showing me off to everyone like he always did. As if nothing happened between us the night before. It was difficult to do, since he was so inconsiderate, but I managed to break up with him. He tried to deny that we were Splitsville for about a week, but everyone caught wind of our break-up. Once everyone knew about it, it became true for him. I never really felt comfortable with being intimate or open with guys after that.

Besides with Stanley Barber, of course. Stan was my best friend in the entire world. I told only my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And he told me his. The only things we really had in common were our lack of mothers and our hideous bacne. Stan lived a few houses down and was eager to get to know me a week after I moved in. I’d never met anyone in my life like Stan. He was so awkward, but loveable. I don’t know, I guess he reminded me of my mom. The way he didn’t care, but he so clearly did. Whenever I wanted to talk about something that was difficult to voice, we’d smoke to ease the tension. Of course, this wasn’t how we always communicated. Despite his nervous stuttering, he was easy to open up to. Stan provided a sort of security in my life. He was never going to leave me and that put me at ease when hanging out with him, which we did regularly. I don’t know when exactly I developed a crush on him, but I never wanted it to surface in our bond. He was to never know. It was just a stupid crush, right? He was a guy who wasn’t family and was so unbelievably caring towards me. It was bound to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to be aware of it. Though, it was a little hard to keep such a secret when we’d both made out twice already. The first time was while I was dating Ricky, the kiss was very awkward and ended after about a minute and a half. The second kiss was just half a week after my breakup. That time, we’d both known what we were doing. And I may be a little biased, but you couldn’t have even thought to fake the passion in that makeout session. We never talked about either of those kisses and remained friends both times. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t become anything more afterwards. It was for the best, though, because two weeks before spring break, my dad returned from his job in Georgia and moved me to Kansas again. The move was so abrupt that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone besides my family.

My life in Kansas for the second time was something I’d never want to experience ever again. Since it was a little late in the year, I finished junior year online. For some unexplained reason, my dad had us get new phones and new numbers, so I lost all contact with my friends. I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t like my dad paid much attention to me. I remember spending every waking moment with him when I was younger, talking or playing games or watching television. It used to be so fun being his daughter, but when we moved back to Kansas, I just felt like this huge burden in his life. Our relationship was strained and he clearly had other priorities in his life. Like whatever he left back in Georgia. I’d see his phone ring and the same number from that state would pop up before he’d leave the room and privately talk with whoever. It wasn’t the secrecy that was off-putting to me, it was the fact that it was so much more important to him. Once again, I was ignored by the one person in my life I wanted to spend the most time with. So, you can imagine the joy I felt when Dad had to go back to Georgia for work. I had been attending public school for my senior year and left not even a full month in. It didn’t bother me, I had no friends and nothing to leave behind. Mid-September was when I moved back to Brownsville with Aunt Pam. Everyone accepted me right back in. Especially my classmates. As I walked the halls I heard whispers like,

“Oh, my god, is that Zip?”

“Zip’s back! Where’d she even go?”

“I thought she died.”

The only person I really wanted to notice me was Stan. I missed him so much, I even got into his favorite band to have something to remember him by. I remember the day I got back to my aunt’s house. Jacob had picked me up from the airport and was driving me to the house. He was attending community college, but was still living with his parents. As we drove, he tapped his index fingers rhythmically to the shitty pop music that played on the radio. “So, what are you excited about for senior year?”

“Not much, I just missed Dina and Stan. Theatre, too. I wonder how they’ve been doing without me.” I chuckled. Jacob huffed in amusement.

“But you didn’t miss Ricky?”

“Fuck, Jake, you know I didn’t miss him for a second.” I frowned, waving my hand in dismissal. My cousin tauntingly laughed at me. Had he actually known about what happened between Ricky and I, he wouldn’t have teased me. In fact, Ricky wouldn’t even be alive that day if Jacob found out. No one knew about the incident, not even Stan.

Pulling up in front of the house, we got out of the car and headed to the trunk to pull out my bags. I tried carrying them in, but Jacob insisted that he do all the heavy lifting and simply asked me to carry my backpack and close the trunk. I did what little I was asked of and headed to the front door to greet my aunt and uncle inside, but stopped. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the Barber residence. Turning, my eyes locked on Stanley, who was frozen beside his car. He was wearing his work uniform and staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was like he thought himself to be hallucinating my existence. Smiling, I simply waved at him before walking back inside. When he got home from work that night, he headed over to my house and knocked on the door. I answered with a grin on my face. “Stan!”

“If it isn’t the famous Zip, showing back up in my life.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” I rolled my eyes playfully before bringing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin at the top of my head. I would’ve stayed there all night if I could’ve. When Stanley pulled away, my heart hollowed and a pit formed within my stomach. I felt unfinished, unbalanced. And I hate imbalance. He asked if I wanted to hang out and I accepted his offer. All we did was lay on his floor, listen to music and get high, but in that moment, that’s all I needed.

Bloodwitch, a joint, and Stan laying by my side.

—————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit

[theforty7thgamer]

Nickelodeon All Star Brawl

... Is a game I am definitely excited for.

And I'm actually going to do a very big post to talk about things I am hoping to see in seeing in the game.

Characters I want to see in the game

Starting off, I want to say that so far the roster is looking good especially on the Nick Toon side of things, but one thing I'm going to talk about is that the game is called Nickelodeon (not Nick Toon) All-Star Brawl, meaning that we're going to see representation from throughout the Nickelodeon line up of properties.

Characters I would like to see include

Ed from Good Burger

A live-action sit com charecter

Miko and Hector

The Game Shakers team (this will make sense later)

Rocko

Nicky, Ricky, Dicky, And Dawn

Marc Summers

A music artist/group

Po

Tigress

Skipper + The penguins of Madagascar

Otto

Timmy Turner

jimmy neutron

Henry Hart/Kid Danger and Captain Man

Harvey beaks

Nacho Libre

Rango

Otis

Tak

Dudley and Kitty

Making Fiends leads

Harriet the spy (maybe, it was the first Nickelodeon movie, so I feel obligated to put it on here)

George Lopez (also obligated because I can't remember any other original shows on Nick at night that could fit on this list.)

A Nick Jr character, probably Dora or Diego due to the movie coming out (also obligated because I feel like I should put in a Nick Jr character here)

The Thundermans or The X Family

The Supah Ninjas or Three Delivery

Kappa Mikey

Hugh neutron

Dib

Sway Sway & Beduce or Sanjay & Craig

Brendan and Evan

Adam Conover

CatDog

Squidward

Garfield

The musical versions of SpongeBob, Patrick, and Sandy

Stages

Now, well I do know that characters are definitely a big part of a game, where they're fighting is also a big part as well

The hotel from "Hotel For Dogs"

The Irkin ship

The town from Rango

The city from Albert the Christmas tree

The Stage from the SpongeBob musical

Fairy world

The location from Rocket Power

A stage from a music concert

A location from at least one Nickelodeon licensed game

Either Retroville or the location where the climax set on Jimmy neutron the movie

The Wayne

Wayside School

A location from the Spiderwick Chronicles (I don't really know that much about the books but I do remember that the locations from the movie will be cool)

Either Double Dare, Nickelodeon arcade, Legends Of The Hidden Temple, The Crystal Maze, or Guts as a stage.

Nickelodeon animation studios

A Nickelodeon hotel or resort

Other stuff

In this game, I feel like we should have other stuff aside from the main fighting game, like mini-games and such

Things that should be included in the game, an obstacle course mode, a tournament mode, an arcade mode, a museum mode, clips from the cartoon, and lastly...

A story mode

A story mode is what I hope most for this game, something akin to the Timmy Jimmy power hour or subspace emissary. With cutscenes, a good story, and an epic villain.

Here's what I think a story should be

Throughout the Nickelodeon version of Earth, great chaos is happening, The world is slowly breaking apart due to an unknown force. It turns out this is being caused by the collector, a being who is obsessed with Nickelodeon so much in fact that he wants to take it over. Now it's up to the Nickelodeon characters to save their world before it can be put on The collector's shelf.

Now the collector is the villain I made up for this, but don't worry there will still be villains from throughout the shows but some of them will be willing to put their villainous actions decide to not be put on a shelf. I wasn't kidding when I said that the big plan is to be put on a collector's shelf.

One major part of the story is everything takes place in the same world for this game. That means that there are aliens fairies ninjas talking animals, glitched video games, and all that jazz.

A couple of examples of the world crossing over since the game has one big connected world are...

Professor membrane finally having to come to terms that the supernatural exists

Da Rules being broken causing fairy world to be revealed

The Glitch Techs in the Game Shakers forming a partnership due to the common ground of games (I said it would make sense later)

Callbacks to previous crossover events

Time travel and alternate universe shenanigans causing multiple versions of characters to coexist

How does Nickeloden exist as a Cartoon channel in Universe

In acknowledgment of how Eliza Thornberry's powers work, due to the question of whether or not you can talk to characters like SpongeBob, Garfield, the Tuff Agency or CatDog

And a solid timeline of events that happen within the show.

I hope this is pretty accurate but I don't mind some alterations to my ideas that I will happen for the final game and its possible DLC.

And that is all I have to say

Good day

[mst3kproject]

The Neanderthal Man

Since I'm taking a break from fishmen, I might as well let Bigfoot catch up a bit.  The Neanderthal Man isn't exactly a Bigfoot movie, but it’s along the same lines and its entire starring cast has MST3K pedigrees.  Robert Shayne was in Indestructible Man and Teenage Caveman. Richard Crane was Rocky Jones, Space Ranger! Beverly Garland was in Swamp Diamonds and Gunslinger. Even the composer, Albert Glasser, wrote music for Invasion USA, Last of the Wild Horses, and almost all of MST3K’s Bert I. Gordon movies.

Some little mountain town in the middle of the Sierras (which the Portentous 50's Narrator takes some trouble to tell us is a primeval place where 'the defacing hand of civilization has fallen but lightly') is having a rash of saber-toothed tiger sightings!  At first these are laughed off, but when the game warden himself sees one cross the road in the middle of the night, it's time to do something about it.  The warden shows a cast pawprint to Dr. Ross Harkness in Los Angeles, who is interested enough to come up and see for himself. Local Mad Scientist Dr. Groves pooh-poohs the whole thing, which is enough to tell me that we're not dealing with a local cryptid here.  Somebody is making prehistoric monsters.

So... I may not have actually run out of movies, but I seem to be running out of plots, because this is a remarkably similar movie to Monster on the Campus. The major difference between the two films is that Dr. Blake turned himself into a caveman by accident, while Dr. Groves here is doing it on purpose.

Another difference is that Monster on the Campus' story, while silly, was linear – events escalated in a way that felt logical, and there were reasons why things happened when and where they did.  By contrast, The Neanderthal Man feels like a first draft.  At the beginning of the film, we're dealing with the saber-toothed tigers that Groves has been creating by injecting cats with his de-evolution serum.  We hear about these slaughtering game and livestock, and it seems like only a matter of time before they move on to human beings.  The beginning of the film is quite upfront about the fact that Groves is responsible, too, as it is only mildly mysterious in its depiction of one of the creatures escaping his lab.

Sometimes the saber-tooths are represented by an actual tiger, usually filmed from behind or at a great distance so nobody has to put the prosthetic teeth on it.  They do have prosthetic teeth, but they're only visible in a couple of shots. Imagine being at a bar and some guy tells you his job is sticking fake fangs on real tigers for a caveman movie!  For close-ups, there's a hilarious puppet head that looks like the sort of thing you'd see mounted on a frat house wall as a joke.  The director had the sense not to linger on this in motion shots, but later we see still photographs Groves has supposedly taken of his experimental subjects and they're even stupider-looking than we imagined.

Anyway, this goes on for a while with rising action, as the game warden goes to get Harkness and they manage to shoot one of the animals, only to have it vanish from the kill site when they try to show it to Groves (the movie never bothers to explain how that happened, incidentally. The ending suggests that the creatures change back when they die, but there's definitely no dead kitty cat at the scene, either).  The whole movie could easily have just had the cats and their creator as the antagonists, perhaps even ending the same way as Dr. Groves proves his work to the other characters by injecting himself. That's not what happens, though.  Instead, the story mostly forgets about the cats one we find out Groves has also been carrying on human experiments.

(Before himself, Groves' first experimental subject was his disabled Latina housekeeper.  Another series of photos show her half-transformed into a cavewoman who for some reason is wearing drag queen false eyelashes.  And as long as I'm talking about the movie being gross and bigoted, there's a bit where a woman is violently raped.  This happens off camera, but the audience is not allowed to entertain any illusions about it.)

The problem is that before we see him give himself an injection in the arm, we have had absolutely no indication that Groves has been giving his serum to anything besides the cats! Cats are stealthy, cryptic creatures and if one of those has been seen wandering around killing things, then surely a full-on caveman beating people to death would not be able to stay out of sight!  If what we were seeing were the first time Groves had tried the formula on himself then that would be an explanation, but his notes reveal that he's been doing it for so long that he's on the verge of losing control of the transformation and permanently reverting to a pre-human status, as indeed he does for the climax.  Much like the stupid dinosaur in The Beast of Hollow Mountain, the movie's main monster is given no build-up whatsoever!

There's worse yet, though.  The main characters, Dr. Harkness and Groves' daughter Jan, are barely involved in the 'caveman' part of the plot. They get phone calls about the various murders that Groves is committing in caveman form, and they snoop around the lab to figure out things the audience already knows.  The same story could have been told without them, perhaps with the game warden and the hunter as protagonists, and it would probably have been more interesting. The script also repeatedly has Dr. Groves wander in and bluster about how the tiger sightings are hallucinations and tall tales, which seems a little unnecessary when we already know he's responsible. The film-makers can't seem to decide whether they want us to know that or not.

Dr. Groves wears glasses.  Maybe the reason his primitive alter-ego is angry and breaking shit (although it does politely open and close the window it climbs out of, which made me laugh) is because it can't see. This is also my theory about why the Hulk smashes, and what do you know?  In Avengers Endgame he's got Hulk-sized spectacles and only smashes when he's told!

The direction of The Neanderthal Man can probably best be described as 'serviceable'.  It shows us what's going on, but doesn't particularly add anything to the proceedings.  The 'Neanderthal' mask is immobile and uninteresting, not much better than somebody's Party City Sasquatch costume.  Even the eyes are just painted on, meaning the poor guy in the costume can’t do much because he can’t see where he’s going.

The dialogue is often very strange, with characters talking like they're in a Jules Verne novel. If only one person did this, it might seem like a character quirk – it works for Dr. Groves, for example – but it's everybody. Seeing the cat carcass is gone, Harkness declares, “I refuse to believe in the supernatural!  There must be some logical cause and effect to this unholy adventure!”  Groves' fiancee Ruth berates him for ignoring her, saying, “I want you, the man I once knew!  The good companion, the cheerful friend.  I want the happiness we once found in each other.”  It's bizarre to listen to, and often audibly awkward for the actors.

Monster on the Campus was kind of trying to be about how humanity must choose to evolve away from our inner savage, although the finale didn't bear that out.  There's a scene in The Neanderthal Man in which this movie seems to be trying to go in the opposite direction, saying that we were never savage to begin with.  Dr. Groves is speaking to a panel of scientists about the size of the brain in various 'primitive' species of human.  He points out that by the time we reached Homo erectus we were already working with four times the cerebral jelly of a chimpanzee, and argues that our ancestors would have been recognizably human in their behaviour and problem-solving capacity.

(Amusingly, his chart of human evolution includes Piltdown Man, which was proven to be a hoax literally a few months after this movie's release.  What makes this even more tragic for the writers is that their list of primitive humans seems to be the only place where they actually did any research.)

The problem with Dr. Groves' theory is that he already knows it's wrong. We soon learn that he's been experimenting on himself with his serum for a while already, and his notes show that he knows very well he regresses into a near-mindless animal.  The movie does not even try to reconcile these ideas.  If Groves were continuing his experiments in the hope that perfecting his serum would give him a more accurate reconstruction of ancient man, that would be one thing, but the script never goes there.

So now that we've had two 'man turns into caveman by injecting science juice' movies, of course I have to ask which one is better.  Monster on the Campus wasn't a good movie but it was definitely an improvement on The Neanderthal Man in several respects, and although I don't have any way to find out for certain, I suspect it was an intentional remake.  It's definitely more entertaining and gets bonus points for including the Meganeura dragonfly, but nothing in it is nearly as funny as The Neanderthal Man's fake tiger head.  I guess if you're gonna watch one or the other, stick to Monster on the Campus, but if you're gonna watch both, start with The Neanderthal Man and do them in chronological order, the better to spot the inspirations and references.

Before I go, a fun paleontology fact: current thinking is that the saber-toothed cat's eponymous fangs actually didn't show when it had its mouth closed!  There are zero cave paintings or ancient sculptures of a saber-tooth cat with teeth visible, and when scientists looked at the structure of the enamel in the canines, it suggested that in life the teeth were hidden by big, fleshy, St Bernard jowls.  Google 'smilodon lips' and behold how this looks fully three hundred percent more ridiculous than you're imagining.  I love nature.

[annasimpsonsblog]

Protect the monarchs! 📍Albert park.

It was cool to see my project come together in the site. Ultimately, really happy with what I’ve achieved.

I ended up giving a few of my seed pods away which was great! had one lady come while I was setting up and was really excited about my project which made my day. She asked questions about the seed pods, how to plant, what a swan plant looks like (all questions I knew the answers to which was good). I asked where she was going to plant her seed pod and she’s going to plant it in the bay of plenty which was really cool! had a few student come up as well which was nice, overall it was a success.

I took some photos of people with their seed pod which I will put in my booklet (asked their permission and was approved). *didn’t ask to post them on my blog so unsure whether I should include photos of them on here*

I also asked their name and where they will plant their seed pod so that along with the photos I can have so stats which I think will be interesting.

I feel like my cushion made sense in the location as I was nervous about being in an open space. I placed my cushion in the 5m mark of my radius as I wanted to be close to the footpath so people could pass me, but also I was in an open space so I could be seen from all angles which ended up being useful.

[schnitzelbutterfingers]

Baklava

Book/Pairing(s): The Royal Romance || Liam Rhys x F!MC (Jasmine Wilson) LAW STUDENT AU

Category/Warning(s): Teen || none

Word count: 2.7K

Premise: A different take on how Liam and Jasmine could have met. Liam and the gang search for baklava, and Jasmine is a law student and a talented baker, working in her mother’s bakery.

Author’s note: This is for the 200 FOLLOWER GIVEAWAY WINNER #2: @texaskitten30 . Congratulations! Hope you enjoy :)

New York City is known for its culture, fashion, Broadway musicals. Its approximately 8 million people.

Maxwell sighs. “C’mon, Liam. There are so many other desserts. Pie, cake, cupcakes, those drizzled thingies...”

He is right. The deserts here are magnificent. Every one of them is fireworks on someone’s tongue, the rich flavor evading the mouth.

Drake surprises him. “For once in my life, I’m going with Beaumont.”

But there is one thing New York City seems to not have.

“No,” Liam responds.

Baklava.

Maxwell open his mouth, but then closes it, flabbergasted. 

“Who are you, and what have you done to Prince Liam?”

The prince chuckles wryly, a sarcastic leer taking place. In a few months, he won’t be able to do this again. In a few months, he will marry a noble with no love in between. 

In a few months, his freedom will be over.

He has to make those few months worth it.

And he will.

By finding baklava.

However, Liam almost gives up. Every bakery they went to in New York City had everything, including Indian sweets, such as laddu, gulab jamun, jalebi.

But they weren’t selling anything from the Ottoman Empire. They weren’t selling baklava.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees a small building. A bakery. It has a small cupcake on the top of the name. 

The prince clears his throat.

“We’ll stop in this bakery. If they don’t have baklava either, then we can go buy cupcakes and go to a bar.”

Maxwell fist bumping the air and Drake sighing of relief, tells him they are both comfortable with his plan.

One more bakery.

That’s it.

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

Slow Dough.

That’s the name of the bakery. Immensely creative.

The three men step out of their rented car, the sun’s rays showing off its magnificent light, creating shadows as they take each step towards the bakery.

They open the door, the jingling bells on it acknowledging their presence.

It looks beautiful. The inside of the store takes on a more pastel theme, the baby pink with white stripes adorning the walls. There are sky blue tables and chairs, adorned with a vase of pink roses on each table.

The front of the bakery has a glass counter-shelf, filled with delicacies. Cupcakes, cookies, chocolate, ice cream. You name it.

Maxwell seems to have that same idea because he says, “Maybe we can steal some cronuts and-”

“Maxwell!” Drake admonishes.

“Hello? What is the commotion here?”

A woman, probably in her fifties, with natural tanned skin, paces into the room from the silver doors ahead of the counter, which Liam assumes is the kitchen. Rather than taking a chiding tone, her voice is laced with concern.

Liam glares at his two friends, Maxwell sporting a nervous smile. Drake shakes his head at Maxwell’s antics.

What good friends he has.

“Apologies for the loud... conversation ma’am. We were searching for a dessert named baklava in New York City. We searched almost every bakery we could find, but left empty-handed. We were hoping we would find some here?”

The woman grimaces. “I’m so sorry, son, but we don’t sell baklava here.”

The prince sighs. 

He knew it. Of course he did.

After mentally calming himself, he sports a tender smile.

“No worries, ma’am. In that case, would you mind giving us three cupcakes? One vanilla and the other two chocolate, please?”

“Now that, I can give you.”

She smiles as she opens the counter, probably finding the best cupcakes she could find.

The woman is probably the most solicitous person she ever met during his bachelor party.

The men sit down on of the chairs, surprisingly more comfortable than Liam imagined. They fall into an agreeable silence, with Maxwell playing with one of the pink rose petals, and Drake glued to his phone.

And they are interrupted. By a soft voice.

A beautiful voice.

“Excuse me, sir, but... did you say baklava?”

He stands up immediately to turn towards the voice, addicted to the melody.

And hazel eyes meets blue.

The lady looks like an exact copy of the older woman, only more younger. More irresistible.

Striking.

Even with glasses on.

For some reason, his heart starts beating faster.

Silently scolding himself, he straightens up and nods his head affirmative.

“Yes, is there a reason why you ask?”

“I happen to know how to make baklava. Do you want me to make some for you?”

Shock rolls over him as he mulls over her words. An American tries to help him?

He glances back at Drake and Maxwell. In return, they give him an exact sense of a whammy blown on them. They are probably thinking the same thing, too.

Liam discerns the older woman slapping her hand on her forehead in an almost idiotic sense, walking to stand next to the younger woman.

Twins.

They are practically twins, if people count out the wrinkles.

“Apologies, son. She is my daughter. She knows how to make almost everything.”

Liam softly grins at the mother and turns to look at her daughter. 

A beauty.

As if she came from a painting.

Majestic.

As if reading his thoughts, she takes a glimpse of his face and smiles. He catches a glimpse of a faint blush creeping on her neck, even with the tanned skin.

Liam allows himself a quick smirk and hurriedly straightens his face to a more gentle expression.

“What’s your name?”

She clears her throat and looks at him straight in the eye. “Jasmine.”

Maxwell gives her a wide smile. “Nice name!”

Liam and Drake nod their heads in agreement, looking back at Jasmine. She grins from ear to ear.

Her smile is infectious.

And Liam just met this girl.

“I’ll get started. I can set up a mini cooking show for you guys. This might take over an hour though. So, are you sure?”

Before Liam can respond, Drake interrupts.

“We can wait. This dude, here, was acting like he was waiting for baklava his whole life. If he doesn’t get his hands on one, he’ll probably punch something.”

“Drake!”

Before he can give him a new one, he hears Jasmine’s laughter, music to his ears. He only knew her for about 10 minutes, and something makes him want to get closer to her.

He can see scars sprinkled on her chest.

She’s an air of mystery.

Mystery.

“I can most definitely understand that feeling. I’ll go gather the ingredients!”

She flees like a small human Sonic, and he infers for a second that she did track in school. 

Maybe she did.

Jasmine comes back with nuts, cinnamon, dough, butter, sugar, water, honey, vanilla extract, and a lemon. After buttering up a thick pan, she sprinkles in a bunch of nuts and cinnamon.

Just like those chefs gave him a show and made baklava for him back in Greece.

Maxwell starts speaking, most likely attempting to make small talk during the awkward silence.

“So... where are you originally from?”

She softly smiles.

“Queens, New York. We moved to the city when I was 10.”

“What made you move to the city?”

“Oh, well...”

Jasmine slightly hesitates.

“My father had passed away, and we had to do something for a living. So we started this bakery...”

A tense silence invades the bakery, Jasmine quickly swiping her eyes. Maxwell grimaces, and Drake takes over.

“We’re so sorry. We didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable...”

She shoots him a weak grin. “It’s okay. It still hurts, but we’re trying our best to move on.”

At this point, she places two sheets of dough into the pan, and butters it up. She then layers it with nuts and repeats the process. The prince makes a mental note to remember these steps the next time he attempts in making baklava.

He tried to make baklava once, but failed, even after searching the internet to find the recipe.

It had been proved to his friends how much of a bad cook he is.

Liam attempts successfully in changing the topic, in a way to console her.

“Are you a student or...”

“I am! Final year law student at Yale.”

His eyes widen. “Yale? That’s impressive.”

Her mother comes back from the kitchen. “Wait till you hear how she skipped five grades and will be graduating as a lawyer at the age of 21.”

The gang’s eyes widen.

Wow. 

They’re speaking to mini Albert Einstein.

“Mom!”  The law student covers her cheeks in an attempt to stop the light rose pink that’s flooding her face.

Maxwell smiles wickedly. “That's so COOL! Liam, here, is the same! He managed to even excel better than his tutors. One time, he was making fun of them because they got a calculus problem wrong, and he managed to solve it in less than five minutes! He skipped three grades, but always managed to make tutors mad and made them speak to his parents because of his smart mouth-”

“Maxwell!”

Drake chuckles.

“What? It’s the truth!”

She chortles again. That melodic laugh.

“It’s alright. I did that every time, too.”

Jasmine cuts the baklava into diamond shapes and puts them into the oven. She stretches her arms out, unsubtly displaying off her muscles.

Damn.

“Alright. This’ll take about 50 minutes.”

Comfortable silence flows through all of them, Liam enjoying the clock ticking surrounding the small building.

Drake cuts it off. “We forgot to tell you where we’re from. We live in-”

“Cordonia, I know.”

Liam's breath catches.

A part of him wants to berate himself for being so idiotic. For believing that maybe one person won’t know who he is. But he should have known.

He should have known.

Drake closes his mouth and opens it again, unable to say anything.

“Wait, so you know Liam is a prince?”

“Crown Prince, yeah.”

“Then, why didn’t you let us know and treat us like normal people?”

“Because I know.”

Turning to him, she says, “Liam, all you’ve ever wanted was freedom.”

His eyes widen. He feels like he’s being mind-read by a fortune teller. At that moment he should’ve felt uneasy, but all he wants to do is open more of himself to her.

And that petrifies him.

“How... how do you know?”

Jasmine’s expression turns stoic, indecipherable.

“Your eyes. They express everything. You feel like you’re being locked in a jail cell. I was once like you, you know so I know that look anywhere...”

Her eyes turn misty, but she quickly shakes her head.

“You do want to lead your people, but you want to be free in choosing someone at the same time. You want someone you’ll fall in love with.”

Her educated guess is mind-boggling. Straying his eyes back to his friends, they appear as if they’re seeing Liam in a new light. Shocked.

That they didn’t know anything about this, and they’ve known him for years.

Maxwell shakes his head. “Wait, but... if you knew who we were, why didn’t you address Liam as ‘your highness’? Don’t get me wrong, we liked how you didn’t...”

Jasmine snorts. “Because even through he has royalty flowing through his blood, he is a human, just like us. I don’t mean it to be offensive, I swear. While titles also show respect, they put more benefit for someone than for another ‘commoner’. And I don’t like that.”

Liam becomes curious. Jasmine is not one of those average girls who shrieks over a celebrity. She is one of a kind.

And that makes him want to know everything about her.

“Say if... you became a queen one day. How will you rule?”

The law student takes a deep breath before responding. She unconsciously touches her dark brown hair, and twirls a curl over her finger.

“I... I would never go by the rule book. While rules are good and all, sometimes... it would lead to injustice. As Princess Diana said in her interview with Martin Bashir, I would  want to become a queen of people’s hearts, not just for a country. I would be there to do good, not cause harm or difficulty over another citizen’s life. I’m not a violent person. Quite the opposite, actually. I would want to be treated as a typical person with a typical life. I would want to be treated as an everyday person. And... I would want everyone to reminisce me as a woman who did good works, not as a woman with a prestigious title.”

Everything is confirmed. Drake’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to respond to what Jasmine just said. Maxwell has a goofy grin on his face.

Liam, however, has a cheeky smile that one would actually say is of respect and admiration. He admires her.

Even as she now bites her lip, he wants nothing more press his lips to hers. 

And they’ve only known each other for about an hour.

The oven alarm lowers the mounting tension in the bakery. Jasmine jogs over to the oven and takes it. The delicious smell of baklava invades Liam’s nostrils, and he immediately wants to taste it. Looking at the pastry, the gorgeous crispy brown of the dough stands out, with green nuts garnished.

“Take caution! It’s really hot.”

Maxwell smirks slightly, already reaching for a baklava. “Oh, I don’t think it’s that- HOLY SQUIDS!”

The once smirking Maxwell now has a face of pain etched on his face, holding his right hand after it burned a little. Jasmine, seeing this, snorts.

“Told you so.”

Shaking his head, Liam -carefully- takes  a piece of baklava, blowing it slightly to soothe the heat. Once it is lowered to a considerable heat, he takes a bite out of it and-

My.

God.

It is scrumptious.

And it appears that Drake and Maxwell are thinking the same thing, their friends’ eyes filled with astonishment.

Jasmine bites her lip, most likely unaware of the action. God, if he could just-

“So, did you like it?”

Shaking off his dirty thoughts, he responds, “Like it? This is the best baklava I’ve ever tasted.”

Her wide eyes contain jouissance, Liam can tell.

“Thank you! Glad I didn’t mess it up!”

Jasmine blushes again, something Liam just knows is a rare sight for anyone.

Just then, her mother comes in, sauntering hurriedly up to them. Her eyes are tense and full of worry.

“So... how is the baklava?”

Liam smiles, hopefully soothing her mother with the action.

“I can reassure you, even the most famous chefs in Greece hadn’t made me this tasty baklava before in my life. It tastes like heaven, ma’am. Your daughter has talent.”

She sighs in relief. “Thank you, sons!”

Without hesitance, the mother kisses Jasmine on her cheek, and in return the daughter kisses her on her forehead. The act reminds him of his own mother, before she died.

“How much does this cost?” Drake interrupts.

“This? This is free.”

What?

Liam refuses. “Oh, that’s not possible, we have to give you something-”

Jasmine laughs. “I insist. First of all, this wasn’t even part of the menu, although we do need to add it to ours. Second, you deserve this. For the first time, other than my mother, I felt like someone else got me.”

The words make the prince look at her deeply into her eyes. Jasmine stares back, not one of them blinking. Finally, the law student breaks the contact.

Just then, Drake clears his throat. “I hate to interrupt but we have to leave. Is it alright if we take more of these?”

The mother smiles. “Sure, sweetie! Take as much as you need.”

As Maxwell and Drake grab more of the baklava, Liam goes up to Jasmine.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” he says, his tone with a hint of heartache.

She smiles wistfully. “Yeah.”

And they hesitate before hugging one another tightly. Liam closes his eyes, in what could be his last moments of freedom. He makes this time worth it. Jasmine reluctantly pulls back and clears her throat.

“But hey, something tells me we’ll see each other again soon,” she adds, with a hint of a smirk.

And just like that, Liam starts to have second thoughts.

Maybe New York City is not that awful.

Narrator: Jasmine was right in what she said. They will see each other again. And they marry, and they make babies-

Author’s note: First Liam x MC fic lol. I hope I did this some justice HAHA. Anyways, if you’ve made it this far, thank you! ♥️

Lmk if you want to be added or removed from the taglist! 🥰

Perma: @potionsprefect @gryffindordaughterofathena @maurine07 @missmiimiie @mom2000aggie @nezuzoned

Liam x MC: @kingliam2019 @jared2612

@choicesficwriterscreations

[undefined5posts]

Credit: Jordan J. Lloyd

I've been trying to dive deeper into politics, discover the genuine roots of our society, the origins of our beliefs, and the consequences of our economic system. It's a big, long, wide journey and through multiple sources such as articles, images, videos and multiple social media platforms, I've been trying to educate myself more on important subjects.

Communism, capitalism, libertarian, conservative, the left, the right, the history, the impact. It is scary to commit to everything because once you start, you simply cannot stop, once you start waking up your conscience about the horrible reality, the lies, the truths, you cannot put it back to sleep. You can't just ignore prejudice, especially when you're extremely conscious of it's omnipresence. I have continually tried to build my own opinions all while actively creating bullet point arguments in my mind because I just know that at some point I will have to defend my thinking, and I want to do it right.

Now, I am so far from being enlightened, I am a beginner and an amateur in all of those themes, but I am trying, which is the only way to start and grow.

So to tell you about my beliefs, I am a militant human rights activist, I believe in equal opportunities regardless of gender identity, sex, religion, sexual orientation, ethnicity, race and disability. This is a fact, not a belief, but the system was obviously not built to protect all people, its wasn't created to serve everyone equally but to grant a privilege to some and harm others. The current state of the world is not a slip, an accident or a misfunction of our brilliant system but a testament of it operating remarkably well. I believe that equity leads to equality, and I believe that we cannot "fix" methodologies that were immorally created with absolutely no honor whatsoever. I believe in reproductive rights, in legal, safe abortions for anybody who needs one. I believe in the decriminalization of marijuana. I believe that the death penalty is a despicable punition that should be banned as soon as possible. I believe in defunding the police and the military. I believe that it is a shame that I even have to talk about police brutality, I don't want to have to say that it is one of the most horrible things our world has originated, I feel extremely dense when I do because it seems like the most obvious certitude and I refuse to believe that this is a controversial statement. I believe that everything I have just stated, along with many more, isn't anything grand but the bare minimum, the bar is low, and yet, we still have the fight for basic human decency.

Humanity has become an option. We have normalized supporting people that represent everything wrong in this world under the name of tolerance. The left has never claimed to be tolerant towards hateful beings, We have never accepted homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism and sexism. We cannot, for exemple, accept nazis, as too much tolerance inevitably leads to intolerance. This picture explains it perfectly:

I consider myself a communist/ socialist. The two terms still confuse me a little, some say they are the same, some say they differ quite a bit. What I know is that socialism is the transitional period between capitalism and communism. At the end of the day, the final result and goal is a stateless, moneyless and clasless society that will provide to each his need.

Our capitalistic society has brainwashed us way more than you may think. It is the root of so many of our issues, the underground demon of our problems. Every idea, thought, belief, and misconception of ours were all affected by our current economic system. It has sold us the billionnaire dream which is one of the most toxic things capitalism has offered. We have looked up to billionaires for way too long, why are they so idolized? Most of them come from high upper class families that can easily afford to invest in their inventions and creations. After starting up their companies and occasionnaly stealing other's people ideas to ultimately get undeserved merit, they then can start to properly exploit their hardworking employees's labour. And for unlimited hours and a minimum wage which probably won't even suffice you to survive, you will have to either pick up more shifts or a second or even third job, especially if you have a family to support. All while the CEO barely does any of the work and gets all the praise and money. So no, they don't all come from really poor families and have built everything for nothing.

The worst thing is that we've been so gaslit and brainwashed that we're proud of our own exploitation, we are wired to think that to be successful we have to suffer, work 10 jobs we all hate, constantly pick up extra hours, have 2 hours of sleep, have no free time to do anything we love, waste our entire youth, be depressed our entire adulthood, to finally have a few pennies to spend when we're eighty. We so strongly believe that this is the only right way to be successful that I don't think many of us have dared to question it's authority, and even if we do, we quickly accept that this a truth, a fact we cannot change and this is just the way things are.

We have capitalized water, food, land, forests, oceans, space, and everything in betweeen. Money is social construct and we have deliberately let it take over our lives. To think about the wasted opportunities and the misery that we have to endure so others can enjoy life truly angers me.

Also, communism is not an ideology that has every actually taken place. Despite what they say, there was never actually a communist country. However, every nation that has attempted a socialist system, for exemple Burkina Faso, has thrived. But of course, once capitalist countries noticed that, they decided to murder it's leader. So in conclusion, the only reason socialism failed is because of capitalism and it's interventions.

"As President (1983-1987), Sankara initiated economic reforms that shifted his country away from dependence on foreign aid and reduced the privileges of government officials; he cut salaries, including his own, decreed that there would be no more flying in first class or driving Mercedes as standard issue vehicles for Ministers and other government workers. He led a modest lifestyle and did not personally amass material wealth. President Sankara encouraged self-sufficiency, including the use of local resources to build clinics, schools and other needed infrastructure. [...] President Sankara promoted land reform, childhood vaccination, tree planting, communal school building, and nation-wide literacy campaigns. He was committed to gender equity and women’s rights and was the first African leader to publicly recognize the AIDS pandemic as a threat to African countries. Although Sankara became somewhat more authoritarian during his Presidency, his ideas, and the possibility that they could spread, were viewed by many as posing the greatest threat. President Sankara was assassinated during a coup led by a French-backed politician, Blaise Compaoré, in October 1987. Compaoré served as the President of Burkina Faso from October 1987 through October 2014, when he himself was overthrown."

Via:https://africandevelopmentsuccesses.wordpress.com/2015/02/28/success-story-from-burkina-faso-thomas-sankaras-legacy/

I have been reading and watching some amazing human rights activists, notably Angela Davis, Malcolm X and James Baldwin. The people that were villainized, labeled as violent and radical, when every single word that came out of their mouhs were pure facts. They are probably some of the most eloquent people I have had the pleasure of hearing. Every sentence, every argument, every single detail made so much sense and opened my mind to so many new realizations. This is the perfect exemple of how the media tarnishes the reputation of wise black women and men. I would strongly advise you to research more about them.

"Socialism & communism are demonized in the west to the point of erasing influential individuals' socialist advocacy. Heres a short list of people you may not have known were socialists/ communists:

MLK

Albert Einstein

Nelson Mandela

Frida Kahlo

Tupac Shakur

Mark Twain

Malcom X

Oscar Wilde

Bertrand Russell

Hellen Keller

Pablo Picasso

George Orwell

Shia LaBeouf

John Lennon

Woody Guthrie

Socialism & communism are not dirty words. Some of the most brilliant minds of our history were socialists and communists. Embrace it." Via @sleepisocialist on twitter

So what else can I say, capitalism has ruined our society and the way we act and think. I know a lot of people refuse to support communism because they think it's too much of a perfect ideal utopian world for it to ever actually exist. And to that I say, first of all, so you agree, it is a wonderful theory, and second of all, a world without racism, sexism, homophobia or any kind or discrimination could also be perceived as "too ideal to actually exist", but does that mean I'm giving up on talking, educating myself and others, protesting and trying to build a better future? Absolutely not. This is the objective, it would be so dumb to think that we just couldn't achieve that so let's not even try.

I want to talk more in detail about communism, theory, human rights, etc... but I don't want to make this post any longer. I will however be posting more about it soon enough.

I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I want to speak, tell you all my own opinions, I don't want to just repost activism related stuff. I'll continue to do that, but not exclusively. I know it won't get as many interactions as my other posts, but this is what I needed at some point in my life, and if I could make understanding some basic informations easier to some people, it'll already be a great accomplishment.

Thank you for reading.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Hey there! Could you do stargazing and proposal for sprace? If you would rather someone else that's great too! Have the best day! I might send in another prompt later. <3

I’ve been throwing around an idea of how Spot proposed to Race in my Life in the Emergency series. @deliciouspeachpirate gave me the perfect opportunity to write it. So buckle up kids, this is a doozy. 

One point of noting, as I was writing this, I realized that Katherine would’ve had to be in school for 12 years, which would’ve made her at least 30 in this series. I’m envisioning the group to be mid-20s, 25/26 years old. However, she’s actually a PA, not an MD. I’ve made the updates in the other stories of the series. 

I do not own One Tree Hill. Curse words and alcohol included.

July 18, 2019 7:30pm

There were perks to working nights while his boyfriend was puttering around the house, unaware of what was to come that night. But little did Race know that Spot was only working until 8pm, having switched with a fellow nurse for the night. 

Tapping on the desk caught his attention as Spot looked over at Albert. “You nervous? Ready for this?” 

“Why I told you in the first place, I’ll never know.” Spot shook his head, looking at his boyfriend’s best friend. “I’m a little nervous.”

Albert smiled, putting a hand on Spot’s shoulder. “Don’t be . . . my best friend may be a dumbass but he’s going to be surprised. He’ll love it.” 

“You sure?” Spot bit his lip, his eyes flying up to see Kat throwing a chart on the desk. 

She rolled her eyes, looking at her friend. “Spot we’ve been over this a thousand times. You could propose to him doing the hula and he would say yes. This is perfect for you two and he’s going to love it. Now don’t you have places to be, other than the Emergency Room?” 

Spot rolled his eyes at Plums and Albert before quickly clocking out and pushing back the chair. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck but you won’t need it.” Kat pulled him into a hug before lightly slugging his shoulder. “Text me later, might need some excitement to keep me awake.” 

Nodding, he said goodbye to them both, stopping by his locker before he walked to his SUV, his baby outside of Race. Throwing his bag in the backseat, he quickly checked the trunk, making sure the cooler he packed earlier was still cold. He saw the blankets there as well before shutting the trunk lid. 

Jumping into the SUV, he turned the radio on and let his thoughts drift over the last six years he and Race had been dating. They had been friends throughout high school but didn’t start dating until their sophomore year of college, when they were roommates. Spot grinned, remembering their wild times at 1456 Wakeman Ave. Jack and Crutchie had lived across the hall with Albert and Romeo just down the hall. 

Pulling into the driveway, he quickly grabbed his bag before walking into the house. Dropping his bag on the bench in the mudroom, he smirked, hearing the bass pumping as there was noise coming from the kitchen. Peeking his head into the kitchen, Spot’s eyebrow raised. “Racer, what the hell are you doing?” 

His head snapped up, hitting the underside of the cupboard, several curse words escaping his mouth. “Spottie? What the hell are you doing home? You scared the living shit outta me.” 

“Sorry about that. But this is your first surprise of the night.” Spot leaned over, rubbing the back of Race’s head as he kissed him. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” 

Race gave him a look. “Again, what the hell are you doing home? Thought you were working overnight.”

“That’s what I had you believe. I actually got off at 8 . . . now go get changed into comfy clothes and we’ll get going.”  Spot clapped his head, heading to their bedroom to change. 

Spot quickly got changed into an old pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt before grabbing something from the top drawer, heading out to the living room, where Racer still hadn’t moved. “Racer, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Race asked, tilting his head to look at Spot. 

Shrugging, Spot smiled. “Figured since I don’t have to work tonight, we’d go for a drive. Go get changed.”

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Race asked as he headed for the bedroom.

Spot rolled his eyes. “Nah, I figured I’d change along the way.”

“Alright, smartass, you don’t have to break out the sarcasm.” Race called, as Spot went around the living room, turning off the many lights that were on. He yelled at Alexa to stop playing the music. Slipping his feet into a pair of Nike Flip Flops, he grabbed the keys as Race came out of the bedroom. “Alright I’m ready . . . do I need to bring anything?”

“Unless you want a hoodie or something specific to drink, everything is already in the car.” Spot said, twirling the keys in his hand. 

Race gave him a curious look, heading back to the bedroom, grabbing a hoodie for them both before meeting Spot in the entryway, heading out to the car. Unlocking the navy blue 4Runner, he quickly got into the driver’s side as Race hopped in on the passenger’s side. “So do I get a hint or anything? Still can’t believe you tricked me on when you worked.” 

“I haven’t surprised you in a while, figured it would be a good night to do it.” Spot grinned, leaning over stealing a kiss from him. “As for a hint, it’s something you’ve been wanting to do this summer but we haven’t been able to do it yet.” 

Every summer they make a bucket list on their chalkboard wall in the kitchen. Everything from visiting the beach to a summer roadtrip to getting ice cream from their favorite local shop, there are 14 things up on their wall that they’ve been checking off since Race got out of school for the summer. “There’s so many things still up on the board that we haven’t accomplished yet.” 

“Well we’ve got a bit of drive ahead of us so you can ponder the board for a while.” Spot smirked, pulling out of the driveway. “Do you want to pick a playlist?” 

Race shrugged, hooking his phone up to the system before the Lumineers poured out of the system. “So were you working this morning?” 

“Nah, I had some errands to run. I worked 2-8 but I have to pick up a shift in the next two weeks for Maria who is covering for me tonight.” Spot held his hand out for Race to lace his fingers through, giving them a squeeze. “All will be revealed soon but I just wanted to surprise you tonight. I put in a request to transfer to days.” 

Race’s eyes went wide as a grin slid across his face. “You did? But you love nights.” 

“But I hate not being able to spend much time with you.” Spot countered, taking his eyes off the road for a second. “Kat and Albert are also looking to transfer to days so the gang will all be together.” 

Race nodded. “Jack told me that he and Kat are trying to get pregnant . . . that might be why.” 

“That’d make sense.” Spot nodded, squeezing Race’s hand, sighing happily. “I love you, Racer.”

“Love you too Spot; even when you scare me shitless.” Race chuckled as Spot joined in. 

Spot turned onto the interstate, accelerating the car as he merged on. “So we’re heading out of the city?” 

“Yes, we are.” Spot agreed, giving him a look. “Any ideas?” 

Race shook his head. “Nah but I can check a few off the list due to going out of the city.” 

“Is this one of your random playlist?” Spot questioned, listening to the music fade from “This I Promise You” by NSYNC to “I Won’t Say (I’m In Love)” from Hercules.

Race picked up the phone and looked at it, shrugging. “I just picked one of the Spotify playlist. I can put something else on, if you want.”

“Nah this is good . . . just didn’t expect to go from NSYNC to Disney.” Spot chuckled, picking up their linked hands and pressing a kiss to the back of Race’s hand.  “How’s driver’s training going?”

Groaning, Race threw his head back. “Almost got into a wreck with two kids today. Luckily at the last minute they stopped but my heart was in my chest for the rest of the drive. Needless to say, they’re driving with another instructor for the rest of the week.”

“How close are we talking about? Darting out in front of another car or blowing a red light?” Spot asked, raising an eyebrow as he squeezed Race’s hand. 

Race sighed. “Darting out in front of a car, one side was clear but failed to see a car coming until it was almost too late. All I kept thinking is thank goodness you’re working today.” 

“I love you dearly but it’s never a good day when you end up in my Emergency Room.” Spot gave him a knowing look. 

Race half smiled. “I know but you look so damn sexy in those scrubs.” 

“I honestly have no words.” Spot said slowly as Race threw his head back and laughed loudly - one of Spot’s favorite sounds in the world. 

Spot grinned pulling off the interstate, applying the brake as they came up to a stop sign. Turning left, Spot saw Race’s face break into a big grin as he slowly recognized where they were. “You’re taking me to the old farmhouse?” 

“Maybe . . .” Spot shrugged as the playlist flipped over to “I Don’t Want To Be” by Gavin DeGraw. “Remember when you made me watch all 9 seasons of One Tree Hill over a two week period?” 

Race chuckled. “I thought you were going to kill me but you ended up loving that show as much as I do. Besides, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone ship Naley as much as you do.” 

“Leave my precious babies alone.” Spot took his hand off the steering wheel for a moment to point his index finger in Race’s direction. “They had their ups and downs but damn they were the couple that made that show!” 

Race rolled his eyes as Spot turned into the long driveway of the farmhouse Medda had bought several years ago as a retreat outside of the city. “Momma here?” 

“Nah, she’s in the city working on some new production.” Spot said, giving his boyfriend a grin. “She knows we’re out here though.” 

“Just in case there’s a stray killer scarecrow hunting the grounds?” Race quipped, giving Spot a look. 

Shrugging, he stopped the car, turning off the engine. “You never know what can happen in Timbuktu. Come on.” 

Hopping out of the SUV, Spot made his way to the trunk to grab the blankets, handing them to Race before grabbing the cooler. Closing the hatch, he offered Race his hand before leading him out to the fields behind the house. “What are we doing? You didn’t bring me here to die, did you?” 

Spot threw his head back laughing. “No one is going to die tonight . . . well that’s not in the plans.” 

“That’s reassuring.” Race mumbled, lacing his fingers with Spot’s. “What’s in the cooler?” 

Spot adjusted the cooler in his other hand as he tugged on the one laced with Race’s hand. “If you hurry up, I can show you. The more questions you ask, the longer until everything is revealed.” 

“Okay, okay.” Race motioned Spot to start walking as he followed behind him. “You sure there’s no cow pies out here?” 

Sighing loudly, Spot shook his head. “Momma doesn’t own any cows, for as long as I’ve known you. Do you think the cow pies would magically fall from the sky?” 

“I mean, you never know. There are cows around here that could’ve gotten loose.” Race defended as Spot looked over his shoulder at him. 

“In your dreams, Racetrack. Now pick up your pace. It’ll be midnight by the time we get everything set up at this pace.” Spot cracked a smile at him before looking up at the sky, knowing the night was perfect. 

Soon they came to the field that they had often found themselves laying in when they were at the farmhouse. It was a little tradition of theirs. “Here.” 

Dropping the blankets on the ground, Race sighed looking over at Spot. “Okay . . . now what?” 

“Oh how I love you Race.” Spot leaned over, stealing a kiss from him. “Please never change.”

Race’s eyes went wide as he looked at Spot. “What does that mean?” 

“You haven’t figured out what we’re doing yet?” Spot asked, putting the cooler on the ground before spreading out one of the blankets on the ground. 

As if something had hit him, Race’s eyes brightened up. “We are going to stargaze?”

“Bingo, snookums.” Spot said, dropping to his knees on the blanket before rolling over onto his back, propping an arm behind his head. “It’s the perfect night for it. Look at how clear the sky is.” 

Race soon joined him, laying his head on Spot’s chest as he gazed up at the stars, sighing in contentment.  “The big dipper is on bright display tonight.”

“Of course that’s the one that you always find first.” Spot grinned, running a hand through Race’s hair. “And there’s the little dipper and the North Star.” 

Race hummed in agreement as he tilted his head back to look at the star filled sky. “It’s absolutely gorgeous out here. Why do we live in the city again?”

“Closer to jobs, family, everything really.” Spot replied. “Maybe in the next few years, we can move out here. It’s not that far of a drive when you really think about it.” 

Race nodded against Spot’s chest. “Might be hell in the winter but we can always get a better car.” 

“It’s good to dream with you.” Spot mused continuing to run his hand through Race’s hair. “I’ve been doing some thinking.” 

Race sat up, giving Spot a look. “Is that good thinking or bad thinking?” 

“Always good thinking.” Spot said, sitting up, lacing his fingers with Race’s, squeezing them gently.  “How long have we been together, Racer?” 

A smile crossed Race’s face. “We’ve known each other since Freshman year in high school, god we were babies. But together officially since Sophomore year of college. I remember being so nervous to tell you that I liked you . . . it was a damn miracle that you hung out with me as a friend, let alone a boyfriend.” 

Spot laugh, nodding his head. “The feeling was mutual snookums. I couldn’t get over how lucky I was to have you in my life as a friend, let alone a boyfriend. I remember pinching myself so many times during the first month because I thought this was going to crumble and fall. You’ve been there for every good day, through all the triumphs and downfalls. You’re the first person I want to call when I’ve got good news, the person I want to hug when the day is just awful, and the person I want to vent all my frustrations to. But we’ve been through so much together and our journey is just beginning. Since we’ve been together for six years, I kinda don’t want to spend the rest of my life with anyone else . . . so, Antonio James Higgins, will you do the honor and marry me? Be tied to me for ever and ever?” 

Race’s jaw dropped, tears glistening in his eyes, as he started nodding his head before throwing his body weight at Spot, knocking him onto his back. He placed his hands on either side of Spot’s head before leaning down and kissing him. “Ja, Sí, Si, Oui, Yes, Sean Thomas Conlon . . . You're an idiot but I absolutely love you and yes, I will marry you.” 

“I’m your idiot now.” Spot said, leaning up to capture his lips in another kiss. “And I love you too snookums.” 

Race hummed into the kiss, pressing forward slightly to deepen it. Moaning slightly, Race pulled back with a smirk on his face. “Someone’s a little eager.” 

“I’ve been carrying this around for a while now.” Spot sat up, pulling a velvet box out of his pocket, cracking it open. A black Tungsten ring with a row of black Sapphires sat inside the box. A gasp escaped Race’s mouth as he looked at the ring before looking up at Spot. “I-Is that for me?” 

“Nope, it’s for the cow that’s in the next pasture.” Spot grinned, shaking his head as Race smacked his shoulder. “Of course it’s for you idiot. Now, can I put it on your hand without a comment from the peanut gallery?” 

Holding out his left hand, Race grinned at Spot. Race’s hand shook slightly as Spot pushed the ring onto his ring finger. “I promise you that I will always be there on the tough days, the good days, and the bad days. You will never walk alone as I will always be by your side. And I love you immensely.” 

Spot reached up and wiped away the stray tears from Race’s eyes before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, Tony.” 

“Ditto, Sean, ditto.” Race half laughed, half laughed leaning forward so that his head was rested on Spot’s chest. “I love you, Spottie. How long have you been planning this?” 

“Since a few days ago but I’ve had the ring since April.” Spot grinned. 

Race’s head flew up from its place on Spot’s chest as his eyes went wide. “Since April? Where was it hidden in the house?”

“Who’s said it was in the house?” Spot countered, grinning at Race’s jaw drop. “I’m not telling you where it was hiddened.” 

Pulling the cooler closer to his side, Spot opened the top, grabbing two red Solo Cups and the champagne bottle that was inside. He made quick work of popping the cork off the bottle of champagne, eliciting a whooo from Race before pouring some of the liquid into each cup.  Spot handed one to Race, clinking his cup with Race’s before taking a sip and making a face. Race busted up laughing, throwing his head back. “You should see your face right now.” 

“Ugh . . . why is this stuff so awful?” Spot spat out the drink, not even taking another sip.

Shrugging, Race took his own sip, and not a second later, spit it out in the field beside him before dumping the cup. “Please tell me that you brought something else.” 

Reaching back into the cooler, he grabbed two bottles of beer, pulling the tops off, offering one to Race before gently clinking the necks of the bottles together. “Much better, mi amor.” 

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Spot felt Race slide as he sat beside him, mimicking Spot’s position, laying his head on Spot’s shoulder. “This was more than I could’ve ever dreamed of, Spot. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Spot whispered. “Can I confess something to you?” 

Looking up at him, Race nodded. “I was nervous to ask you earlier but when I spoke from the heart, my nerves went away.” 

“Were you nervous I'd say no?” Race whispered. 

“Never. I was more nervous that you wouldn’t like what I was planning.” Spot explained.

Race laced his fingers with Spot’s. “Honestly, you could’ve been doing the Hula and I would’ve said yes.” 

Spot threw his head back, laughing, while tears streamed down his face. “You and Kat need to stop hanging out with one another.” 

“Kat knew?” Race asked, squeezing their conjoined hands. 

Spot nodded. “She did as did Albert. I threatened them both of bodily harm if either of them squealed. Eventually we need to take a photo so I can send it to them. I’m surprised my phone isn’t blowing up.” 

Just as he said that his phone dinged as a text came through. Spot groaned fishing his phone out of his back pocket and opened it, laughing at the photo that was texted to him. Race looked over at him, raising an eyebrow at his sudden laughter. “What?” 

Tilting the phone, Race laughed seeing Kat and Albert with their chins in the palm of their hands staring into the camera of the phone. “All Kat texted with the photo was well.” 

Race laughed. “So how do you want to play this?”

Holding their conjoined hands up, Spot quickly took a photo of it before sending it to Kat and Albert along with Jack, Medda, Crutchie, and Smalls. He locked his phone, throwing it on the blanket before sighing in contentment. “All of the important people just found out. My job is done.” 

“Leaving the story part up to me?” Race asked as Spot’s hand found the top of his head and started massaging it. 

Spot chuckled. “You’re going to love telling everyone that story. Might as well give you the floor.” 

“Ugh you’re so right.” Race said as he sat up. “As much as I don’t want to, should we get going?” 

Spot’s mouth slipped into a wide smile before shaking his head. “Nope, we’re staying out here tonight. Neither of us have to work tomorrow so no sense in driving back to the city when we’ll be out here over the weekend anyways.” 

“You think of everything, pooks!” Race said, leaning over and kissing him. “Planner by nature.”

 Spot snaked his arm behind Race’s head keeping him there, kissing him again. “Shall we move this party inside?” 

“Please do not quit your day job, Spottie.” Race laughed, standing up, pulling Spot to his feet before gathering the blankets and putting the stuff back in the cooler. They made quick work of cleaning everything up before making their way to the farmhouse. 

Walking inside, there was a light on in the kitchen. Dropping everything in the foyer, the two made their way to the kitchen and grinned seeing what Medda had left them. A cake along with two plates and two bottles of chilled beer were sitting in the middle of the counter. The cake read “Congratulations Spot and Race!” in swirly font. Next to the cake was a handwritten note, which Race picked up and read aloud. 

Race and Spot, 

Congratulations on your engagement. Spot, I’m so happy you’ll be officially joining the family. We will be back around 4pm tomorrow. Race, your bedroom upstairs has fresh sheets on the bed already. There’s stuff for you in the fridge for breakfast and lunch tomorrow. 

Congratulations again and don’t make a mess! 

Love, 

Momma/Medda

Spot pointed to Race with a grin. “She knows you too well.  Shall we dig into this?”

“It’ll be a damn shame if we left the cake go to waste.” Race said grabbing two forks before just digging his fork into the cake and popping it into his mouth. “Damn, momma knows how to pick out a cake.” 

Spot dug his fork into the cake popping it into his mouth with a groan. “Medda is amazing and so is this cake.” 

Digging his fork in, Race looked over at Spot, offering him his fork as Spot leaned forward, eating the piece of cake. “Hey Spottie?” 

“Yeah Race?” Spot asked, swallowing the cake. 

Race set his fork down, leaning over and taking Spot’s hand in his, squeezing it. “You know how you said earlier that I made you the happiest man alive?” 

“I did and you do.” Spot squeezed his hand in return. “Something on your mind, Racer?” 

Race smiled. “You make me just as happy. Honestly, I was thinking of asking you to marry me, but as always you are three steps ahead of me. And I love you for it.” 

Spot leaned forward, one hand still clasped in Race’s hand and the other moving to cup Race’s cheek before directing his lips to meet his. “I love you Racer; always, forever, and from here to the moon and back.” 

“I love you too Spottie.” Race whispered, before leaning his forehead against Spot’s, pressing another kiss to his lips. 

Thank you @deliciouspeachpirate for sending in the prompt. This was a lot of fun to write and feedback would be most appreciated! 

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Why the Idea of Disabled Jesus is Heretical

(Or, at best, a gross misinterpretation of Scripture. But really, it's heresy.)

@aspiringautistic asked on this post from my side blog: "what would be so harmful if there were people who perceived jesus as disabled?" and I am happy to oblige in expanding on those thoughts (though since the answer has little to do with autism and everything to do with Christianity in general, I thought it more appropriate to answer here on main). In case you hadn't prior seen the linked post and don't feel like clicking through, the short of it is this: the Gospel Coalition recently published an article in which the author, Andrew Abernethy, argued that Jesus was disabled. I'm here to tell you where he went wrong.

Hold on to your hats, folks. This is a long post.

(All Scripture quotations taken from the ESV translation.)

1. Disabilities are a result of the Fall. Before I get into anything else, I need to make this point abundantly clear. While being disabled does not dictate worth and it is not an indication of personal sin, it is still not how we are meant to be. Adam and Eve were created in the likeness of God, and were, therefore, created without sin or any of the things that came with sin. They were perfect -- at least until they disobeyed (Genesis 2-3). Sometimes people ask "if there is a God, why do bad things happen?" and the answer is because we live in a sin-cursed world. Disabilities, illness, and death itself exist because Adam and Eve sinned. (Romans 5:12: "Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned.")

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2. Old Testament laws regarding sacrifices. The Old Testament Law is very specific when talking about what makes an acceptable sacrifice. There are a lot of different types (everything from bulls to grain), but the relevant ones to this discussion are sacrifices made for the atonement of sins. 

There are two categories of sacrifices made for sin: sin offerings made for unintentional sins, and burnt offerings made for sin in general. Burnt offerings and sin offerings both ranged from bulls to doves (or flour for the latter, if nothing else could be afforded) and sin offerings varied depending on both the person and the sin as well (Leviticus 1, 4-5). But all of the animals sacrificed had two instructions about them in common: that they be "without blemish", and that the sinner must place their hand on the head of the animal. The difference between the two was that a sin offering was required as an act of repentance and a burnt offering was voluntary. In the case of burnt offerings, the requirements for bulls and sheep or goats are laid out very plainly: "a male without blemish" (1:3, 10). 

In addition to all of this, once a year, on the Day of Atonement, one bull and two male goats would be sacrificed for the people to remove their sins (Leviticus 16; only one goat was killed; the other was sent away, symbolizing the removal of sin). Again, these animals had to be without blemish, just as all the others. The person offering the sacrifice was to place their hand on the head of the animal. The action of placing their hand was symbolic: it was a way of showing that the person's sin was being "transferred" to the animal so that the animal could take the person's place and receive the punishment for sin instead. "Without blemish" meant that it couldn't be sickly or diseased or crippled in any way. It had to be as close to perfect as was possible in a sin-cursed world because anything less than perfect had to die for its own imperfections. 

Because these sacrifices could never be truly perfect, they had to be repeated, but all of this was pointing to the time when Jesus would come as the final sacrifice made for the sins of the world.

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3. Jesus as the final sacrifice. If you know anything about the Christian faith, you know that this is at the heart of everything we believe. Without Jesus, there is no gospel. So here's why that matters to this discussion: 

"But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and more perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation) he entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by the means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the sprinkling of defiled persons with the ashes of a heifer, sanctify for the purification of the flesh, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to serve the living God" (Hebrews 9:11-14, emphasis mine). 

This passage in Hebrews (as well as verses preceding and following) are all about how Christ made atonement for us with His death, and how His voluntary sacrifice of Himself is superior to the OT sacrifices. 

So allow me to direct your attention to the bolded phrase above: “offered himself without blemish”. If this sounds familiar, it should, since I talked extensively about this in the point above. “Without blemish” in Leviticus meant to be not crippled or disfigured or ill in any way. If this same phrase is also applied to Christ, then the same must be true. If the OT sacrifices were required to be so, why would the same not apply to the Final Sacrifice that ended the need for sacrifices to be made? It wouldn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. Not when the OT sacrifices were pointing towards Jesus; not when we have a God Who created order and purpose. Jesus had to be perfect to take our places -- and that includes being free of deformities that are a result of a sin-cursed world.

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4. Isaiah 53, misinterpreted at best. This was one of Mr Abernethy’s main points, and it’s one he got disastrously wrong by reading what he wanted into Scripture (eisegesis) rather than letting Scripture say what it says (exegesis). See, the thing about interpreting prophecy is that you have to be careful how you do it, and, just like all Scripture, make sure it’s within the proper context. 

In the case of this chapter of Isaiah, the wider context is that it’s a prediction of Jesus’ suffering on earth and His death. One of the verses he tries to pass off about Jesus being ugly or deformed is the second part of verse 3: “and as one from whom men hide their faces, he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” The problem is, this verse and one directly after it are not about his physical appearance at all. They are about emotions and grief: “He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one whom men hide their faces, he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteem him stricken, smitten by God and afflicted” (vs. 3-4, emphasis mine). This is about Him bearing our burdens and our rejection of Him anyway. This is a parallel that continues as the chapter moves forward. 

There is only one physical description in this passage that is not related to His death, and it’s the second part of verse 2: “he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him.” And this is the only point that Mr Abernethy got correct: Jesus wasn’t the Hollywood definition of drop-dead gorgeous. He looked like your average Joe. In order to not be conventionally beautiful/handsome, that does not dictate that a person must be deformed or “ugly” in any way. The only thing this verse means is that he didn’t stand out from the crowd with His looks. He didn’t look the way they thought their Savior should. That’s it. That’s all it means.

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5. Tradition isn't truth (no matter how much anyone wants it to be). I have to admit, adding in a section about a so-called “tradition” that’s nigh on impossible to find anything about was brilliant. The average person wouldn’t even bother looking in the first place, and most people who would look, would give up after five or ten minutes of searching. I spent an hour and found exactly nothing on this “tradition” of Jesus being a leper. So you just... have to take Abernethy’s word for it. 

Aside from not being able to find anything on it myself, the argument he uses is faulty anyway. Because tradition doesn’t equal truth, in the first place, especially a tradition that didn’t pop up until the 16th century. There’s no basis for something that apparently wasn’t known until 1400 years after His death. 

Aside from that, he calls on Jerome’s Latin translation of Isaiah 53:4 that translates a phrase as “he was like a leper.” First of all, “like a leper” does not mean He actually was a leper. C’mon, man. Any fifth grader in America could tell you that similes are used for comparisons and aren’t literal. 

Second of all, if you’d like to make a point, it’s a much better idea to go back to the Hebrew manuscripts rather than to any one translation. Now, I don’t know Hebrew myself, but I do have access to a little thing called the Internet, where you can find a plethora of commentaries from people who do know Hebrew. For this particular problem, I went to Albert Barne’s Notes on the Whole Bible. I’m not going to put his whole notes here (because there’s a lot), but if you’d like to read all of his notes, you can search the verse on studylight.org and use the ‘jump to’ feature under the verse to find him, but the bottom line of his notes on it are this: Jesus wasn’t literally being rightfully punished like the Jews would incorrectly think; leprosy was used here as an example because it was seen as a divine punishment for sin. It has nothing to do with literal leprosy at all. 

And to top off this cake of incorrectness... well, has he even read the New Testament? If Jesus had had leprosy, He: a. wouldn’t have been allowed in temples or synagogues, b. wouldn’t have been allowed in towns period, and c. wouldn’t have been nailed to a cross because no one would have risked touching Him in order to do so. Abernethy shouldn’t have even brought this up in his argument, it’s so far off base, and no artist in the 16th century should have painted a painting of a leprous Jesus nailed to the cross because, quite simply, it never would have happened.

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6. Jesus relates to us -- but not in the ways Mr Abernethy says. While he never cites any Scripture on this, I’m pretty sure I know where this idea came from. In his article, he states that in order for Jesus to have related to the disabled, He had to be disabled Himself. Since He relates to us, then He must have been disabled. 

First of all, the logical fallacy of this statement is this: if He must be disabled to relate to the disabled, then can the abled still relate to Him? The answer to that, of course, would be no, because if He wasn’t abled then He can’t relate to the abled in the same way that Abernethy asserts that He can’t relate to the disabled without being disabled. It’s one of those things where you can’t have it both ways. Another example of how this logic falls short is pregnancy. Can Jesus not relate to pregnant people because He Himself was never in such a state? And the rabbit hole just gets deeper from there: Can He relate specifically to the blind when He was never blind? How about the deaf or hard of hearing? Or people missing limbs, either from birth or through amputation? All disabilities are different, and experiencing one doesn’t mean you understand them all, so by Abernethy’s logic, Jesus had to experience all of them. Do you see how ridiculous Abernethy’s logic here is yet? 

Second of all, Abernethy is, once again, taking Scripture entirely out of context -- if, indeed, he got this idea from Scripture at all. Hebrews 4:15 says, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” The problem with trying to use this verse as proof is, obviously, that it’s talking about temptations (Matthew 4:1-11), not lived experiences. If he was, again, referencing Isaiah 53 -- well, that doesn’t work either, because, again, that is in reference to His death and the sins He bore for us on the cross. The fact of the matter is, there are no Scriptures to back up the idea that He had to personally experience everything we do in order for Him to understand our pain and suffering. 

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The source of this heresy is the same as many heresies, actually: People want to make Jesus into something He's not. I listened to a podcast recently where the host was talking about a couple of heretics, and while I don't remember the heretic's name, he said that to him, Jesus was Latinx because he himself is Latinx. Except that, ya know, Jesus was a Middle-Eastern Jew. It's the same fallacy to say that Jesus was disabled. Everyone wants Jesus -- and God, for that matter -- to be something He's not, rather than for Him to be what Scripture tells us He is, but you can't force God into the box you've carved for Him. He is who He is, no matter how much you want Him to be something different.

There's no getting around it: to make Him out to be anything other than what Scripture tells us He is -- especially when it contradicts Scripture, is heresy.

[goutheswimqueen]

thoughts on free! s3? what do you think went wrong/right/what you wish it would’ve went etc

I could quite literally go on FOREVER about season 3 and y’know what you asked for it so I’m just gonna ramble until I feel good about it lmao.

Now first I have to say that I wholeheartedly love season 3 with the deepest passion in my bones. I genuinely didn’t think that we were ever going to GET a season 3 in the first place, so the fact that it exists is just... so meaningful to me as someone whose favorite franchise is Free! and someone whose life was saved by these dumbass swimmers. 

I will say that season 3 isn’t what I wanted from it. I wanted it to be centered on Nagisa, Rei, Gou, Sousuke, Ai, and Momo. I love Haru with my entire being but I really really REALLY wanted to see a series centered on the Iwatobi trio. They’re so underrated and I felt like they were lowkey sidelined in Eternal Summer so I wanted to see them shine and grow together in their third year. But of course Kyoani has just been setting them aside more and more as time has gone on so I feel like that was nothing but a hopeless dream lmao. I have a lot of headcanons and AUs about what went on with everyone who was still in Iwatobi while the rest of the gang was in Tokyo. The little bits that Kyoani gave us of them were beautiful, I will admit. Episode 11 is my FAVORITE episode of season 3. The fact that Rei WON A NATIONAL RACE??? Like, come on. I wish we could’ve seen the work that he put in to even be able to do that in the first place. That moment where he ponders what he’ll be doing after high school really gets to me too because I would love to know what the fuck he and the others are gonna do. I wish we could’ve seen the moments in their third year that led to whatever decisions they will make. I wanted to see the Iwatobi trio go through the absolute wringer together lmao. I wanted angst I wanted to see their journey that led them to where they are now. I wanted to see more of them growing with the new trio too. I wanted to learn more about Gou and Sousuke’s past through their interactions in her third year. If the season was longer I feel like they could’ve had it be half the Iwatobi arc and half the Tokyo arc, y’know what I mean?

Nonetheless, I love season 3 for what it was. I’m so beyond happy that they brought in Asahi, Ikuya, Natsuya, and Nao, you have no idea. The High Speed! characters hold such a special place in my heart. I wish Asahi would’ve had more of an arc/character development though, and I wish Nao was more included. I think Natsuya’s character arc was my favorite of the whole season. Seeing the trash traveling man that he had become and his interactions with Rin and Sousuke really stuck with me for some reason. And that line that he had when he was talking to Ikuya and fucking crying like, “a dream to fight for my strength and pride, plain and simple.” That shit fucked me up bro. We all meme about Natsuya a lot but I feel like there’s a lot of deeper shit there that’s yet to be explored. When we met Ryuuji I was genuinely convinced that he was Ikuya and Natsuya’s father because it would explain a lot about Natsuya’s behavior. A trash dad who wasn’t really there for his family and just kinda fucked off to travel the world training swimmers until he found one that met his expectations? That would’ve added so much to Natsuya and Ikuya’s background stories and their character arcs. Like can you imagine? Natsuya not initially going into professional swimming because the fact that his father LEFT to find a swimmer to train instead of training his own damn son because he didn’t see that potential in him??? Natsuya being inspired by Ikuya to work hard to prove their father wrong??????? Nao punching Ryuuji square in the nose the moment he sees him???????????? A fucking gold mine that Kyoani could’ve dove into, but no he’s related to Shizuru lmao. 

I could go on forever about Natsuya in season 3 cuz I just really, really loved his arc but I’m gonna keep rolling haha. Hiyori was probably the most unexpected thing from season 3 and I just... love him so much. Like his absolute snakey behavior gave me the same chills that that scene of Sousuke pushing Haru against a vending machine in episode 2 of Eternal Summer gave me. I LOVE that shit. The Free! antagonists just keep getting bitchier and bitchier lmao. I also relate to Hiyori on a deeper level. I too have been selfishly protective of my best friends in a way that... really just wasn’t the way to go. Like jeez Hiyori I understand how you feel but maybe let them talk to Ikuya at least once??? Chill with the possessiveness? Idk I know Hiyori is the source of a lot of discourse lol, but that’s just how I feel because of my own similar experiences with myself and others who’ve acted in a similar way. I do wish his beef at the other boys wasn’t solved by just fuckin... swimming with Haru lmfaoooooo. Like I wish they just would’ve added more to his conversation with Ikuya when he asked him to join the relay with him.

I was quite satisfied with Rin’s arc in season 3. It just like, made perfect sense to me I guess lmao. I know he wasn’t there much but I don’t know what else they could or should have done with him, if that makes sense. The fact that his coach is Ai’s uncle is just the best thing ever too lmao.

I was also very happy with Haru’s arc actually!! Seeing how much he has grown makes me feel like a proud mom. Ya boi is tired of the bullshit and the miscommunication haha. Of course I’ll always wish he didn’t go into pro swimming but alas, gotta deal with it I guess. I love his dynamic with Ryuuji and the way that he has dealt with pro swimming though. And his decision to go into the individual medley absolutely made me lose my mind. I didn’t know I needed to see him swim the other strokes until it happened and I just, I loved that so muchhh. 

I alsooooo enjoyed Ikuya’s arc. Seeing someone from your past again like that can 100% have that effect on you. I just kinda wish we understood more about like, why he just randomly faints while swimming sometimes? I feel like they didn’t solidly explain it? Cuz I don’t think it was always from overworking himself. Idk maybe I’m just a dumbass and remembering incorrectly.

Kisumi deserved better. YOU CAN’T TELL ME THIS BOY DOESN’T HAVE UNDERLYING ANGST THAT KYOANI HASN’T DELVED INTO. He gave us that line of “We’ll never make friends like the ones we had back then” and then him worrying about whether or not there was anything he could do to help with the Ikuya situation. This boy feels left out and you can’t tell me otherwise and it is 100% because of the fact that he’s not a swimmer. Someone give this boy a basketball team that he can experience that kind of bond with PLEASE. I AM BEGGING ON MY KNEES!!!

Makoto also deserved better. Like, okay, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely loved his arc with the kids and Nao and all that. I love his new dream. BUT!!! Kyoani has yet to go into depth with his insecurities with Haru. I’m still not over that damn dream he had on that bus. All we got in season 3 was Makoto’s aNGSTY looks when it came to his relationship with Haru lmao. GIVE MAKOTO A BIGGER ROLE AND A BIGGER ARC DAMMIT. He’s one of the most popular characters I’m surprised his angst hasn’t been touched on more. This dumbass just needs to stop holding things in i SWEAR TO GAWD.

I thought the inclusion of Albert was kinda weird, dunno what the point of him is aside from making Haru shake in his bones. Kinjou is definitely interesting. He scares me lmao, but I am here for that. Give us an antagonist who is just absolutely unhinged at this point LMAO. I have some headcanons about him too but I feel like the new movie coming up is going to crush my dreams soooo yeah.

Isuzu is a goddess. I’m so happy she’s finally here and she has a name and a FACE. We learned that the Mikoshiba bros had a sister before we even knew that Momo existed lmao (Sei mentioned her in a drama cd from season 1). I almost thought they were never going to give her to us but she’s here and she’s beautiful and she’s everything that I wanted her to be. I’m so happy she thinks Gou is cute and that GOU LIKES HER and I just ugh yes thank you so much Kyoani I never expected that we’d actually get this but I’m so happy we have it. I hope she goes to Hidaka Uni and gets to race Haru like she wanted haha. And I’m so happy we got to see her swim! Our first in-anime female swimmer with a name. I love her.

Speaking of FEMALE SWIMMERS. Sighhhhhh.... My biggest disappointment. Aki Yazaki. Where is she? We deserve her!! I promise we do!! She was SUCH an important character in the High Speed! novels and kyoani decided that she just doesn’t exist anymore lmao (biggest reason why I’m not the biggest fan of the Starting Days movie). At this point I’ve lost hope that she’ll ever be included in the anime, and it makes me so sad. I love her so much and there’s so much potential for an amazing beautiful story arc with her if she reunited with the boys. I don’t think we’re going to get a season 4, (the new movie is scaring me making me think it’s the end of the series with the way it’s been advertised...) but if we DID get one I imagine it beginning with Haru walking through a snowy day, huddling close to himself to shelter from the cold, when he passes by a tall figure and catches a glimpse of familiar caramel hair with a loose little braid peeking out from behind one ear and a large scarf that has gotten quite messed up over years of wear and tear, a memory clicks in his mind like a light switch and he stops in his tracks to turn around and let a long forgotten name slip from his lips: “Yazaki Aki?” ... cue opening sequence. LIKE WOULDN’T THAT BE SO AMAZING???????? I WOULD FUCKING SHIT MYSELF OKAY YOU DON’T UNDERSTANDDDD. Aki is one of my favorite characters I’m so mad she wasn’t in season 3. I’m also mad that Satomi Nii wasn’t there either like!!! She would make a great trio with Ikuya and Hiyori that’s all I’m sayinggggg. I would probably start crying if either of them showed up at some point like genuinely I would just be a mess sobbing on the floor. ALSO I FEEL LIKE GOU AND ISUZU WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE THEM LIKE PLS GIVE ME THE GIRLS THAT WE DESERVE!!!

The art style of season 3 was pretty good. The only thing that bothered me about it was how fucking WIDE the characters’ shoulders were sometimes. Especially with the big bois like Makoto and Sousuke. Like please god no stop that. I’m always gonna miss the art style from season 1 tho, the crazy expressions n shit that were there were just too GOOD lmao. I feel like in season 3 they kind of attempted to bring that back but it just wasn’t executed the same and done to the same extent. R.I.P. the comedy from season 1, it will be forever missed.

I love the opening and ending themes, always. So fucking good. I’m so happy all the characters were included in the end theme animation sequence. I’ll never get over Gou and her BEAUTY.

ANYWAYS. Those are my thoughts in the general sense. Idk if I forgot anything because I have so many thoughts that’re all unorganized haha. If anyone wants me to talk in more detail about anything specific I am soooooo down! Thank you for sending in this ask, talking about this show makes me happy hehe.

[violetwolfraven]

Prank War

@asexualbert requested redfinch and I think platonic ralbert too so here goes I guess.

((This takes place pre-canon. I know almost nothing about any of the character’s canon backstories, so I made up things to fill in blanks. I heard a thing saying Finch was Brooklyn in the original movie, so idk...))

Warnings: Q-slur, period-typical homophobia, a little bit of internalized homophobia I guess.

...

“Oh, Albie!”

Great. Albert was not in the mood to talk, currently, but this was just how it was, being Racetrack Higgens’ best friend.

“What is it, Racer?”

“Guess what I did?”

“Hmm... let me think. Did ya ask someone out?”

“Who do you thinks I am? Romeo?”

“Well, you flirts like him, so sure.”

“Funny. Everybody get a load of the comedian over here! He might as well get a new career slingin’ jokes!”

“Ey, I could if I wanted to.”

“Sure. You’s about as funny as Wiesel.”

“Seriously though,” Albert said, “What did you do?”

Usually, if Race joked this much, it was because he was deflecting around something while desperately hoping someone would figure out that he really did want to talk about it.

And, usually, this was Race’s way when he had a crush, or had done something moderately illegal. Not that Albert was judging. Pretty much all the Newsies had done something illegal at least once, even over in Manhattan. Hell, even Crutchie had hit a cop with his crutch, once, when he and Jack got in a tight spot.

Or... there was one more thing this could possibly be. Only... no.

“Please tell me ya didn’t.”

Race shrugged innocently, “I did.”

“It’s only been a few months since the last one!”

“And it’s been all quiet-like around here since! We all needs a good shake-up occasionally!”

Albert groaned. As much as he loved Race as his best friend, he absolutely hated when he started prank wars.

The first time, it was funny. The third time, it was still mildly amusing, but mostly annoying. By the seventh time, it was just plain annoying.

But, the younger Newsies loved it, and most of the older ones enjoyed the opportunity to harass each other without any risk of a soaking. If someone pranked you, you pranked them back, but nobody got hurt. That was how it worked, until the war had been dragging on a couple weeks and everybody got bored with it.

At least until Race decided to start a new war.

In the several years Albert had known him, this was going to be the eighteenth prank war Race had started.

“Well, who’d ya prank this time?”

Race grinned, “Spot Conlon.”

“What?!”

Albert yelled it so loud that pretty much everybody came running, wondering what was going on.

“What’s up, Albert?” Jack asked, “Heard yellin.’”

Albert glared at his best friend, “Racer here has started another prank war. And do ya want to tell the gang who you pranked to start it?”

Race shrugged, “Well, I just put a frog in his pillowcase, so it ain’t nothing serious.”

“Ain’t nothing serious?” Albert demanded, “You put a frog in Spot fuckin’ Conlon’s pillowcase!”

Immediately, everyone started yelling at Race, demanding to know how he could be so stupid, why he would do that, and a few asking how Spot had reacted.

Albert, of course, knew that since Race was friends with just about everybody from every borough, Spot couldn’t hurt him without other boroughs trying to hurt Brooklyn in retaliation. And besides, Race had even managed to get close with the King of Brooklyn, so it wasn’t like there was really any risk, but still.

Pranking Spot fucking Conlon was a stupid-ass move.

“Don’t worry!” Race said confidently, “He hadn’t found it yet when I left but I’s left him a note explainin’ the rules. This’ll be the first inter-borough prank war! It’ll be fun!”

The worst part was how some of the Newsies actually seemed to be agreeing that a prank war including the Brooklyn boys would be fun.

Everyone looked to Jack. It probably wasn’t too late for him to just go over to Brooklyn, apologize, and end the whole thing, but would he do that? It seemed like the smart thing.

Jack shrugged, “Long as nobody gets hurt, like always, should be fine. Might actually be fun.”

Race grinned. A few, Albert included, groaned.

This was going to be a long couple weeks.

...

“So, you don’t seem that thrilled with Racer for startin’ this.”

Albert happened to be in Jacobi’s that day, grabbing some water, when most of the Newsies weren’t. The only other one there was Finch.

To be honest, Albert didn’t actually know Finch that well. He knew he’d showed up a couple years ago and was sarcastic 90% of the time, (not that Albert blamed him for that. He was sarcastic a lot, too.) but he usually hung out with Henry or Sniper and Smalls, and Albert usually stuck with Race, and Romeo and Specs.

The prank war had started last night, and so far, no one, Brooklyn or otherwise, had made another move.

“I’m not,” Albert admitted, “Racer has a habit of bein’ stupid for no reason.”

“I don’t think Spot’ll hurt him.”

“Oh, he won’t.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“This is the second prank war this year and it was only funny the first few times.”

Finch laughed, “You tells it like it is, even about your own best friend, huh?”

“Well, we all know Race talks shit about me, so...”

Finch laughed again, and the twinge in Albert’s chest made him wonder why he was even here.

True, the Newsies were all pretty close. Close enough to at least vaguely know each other’s triggers and what kind of touches everyone was okay with, to count on each other in a fight, to openly know and keep the secret when two boys or two girls started going out... But they still had regular groups or pairs they stuck to. It was inevitable with a friend group that big.

So, why would Finch be straying from his? Was this a prank?

Seeming to sense his thoughts, Finch cleared his throat.

“So... I’s came here today wondering something. If you wanted to be allies.”

Albert was confused, “What?”

“Allies. We prank other people but don’t prank each other.”

“Don’t work like that. Everybody pranks everybody in a prank war.”

“I know,” Finch admitted, “But this time, it’s different, see? This time, we’s up against Brooklyn and Manhattan. And I used to be a Brooklyn boy, so I can tells ya we’s all gonna need friends in a war against them.”

“A prank war,” Albert corrected, “There’s rules for this. Nobody gets hurt.”

“You seriously think all them Brooklyn boys are gonna follow that?”

Albert hadn’t thought of that. He’d been thinking in terms of Spot Conlon, who wouldn’t hurt them because he was so close with Race. But some of his boys definitely would take a chance to soak someone for no reason and call it a prank.

“I know I can’t count on Henry for this,” Finch said, “I’s already asked, and he’s too stupid to see how dangerous this could get. And Sniper and Smalls only ally with each other. I’m askin’ you cause you seem like the smart kind who knows when not to go it alone.”

Aw, what the hell? Albert had never had an ally in a prank war. Maybe this would make it less annoying and more fun.

When Finch spat into his hand and held it out, Albert accepted the spit shake.

...

Unfortunately, Finch was right.

A week into the prank war, and Henry wasn’t hurt bad, when some Brooklyn boys gave him a black eye calling it a prank, but he could have been. Jack had decided not to tell Spot about it, instead giving the Manhattan boys permission to actually hurt people back instead of just the bare minimum defend themselves.

Knowing Spot had ears everywhere, they could only hope that knowing Manhattan was actually allowed to hurt in self defense would deter any Brooklyn boys looking for an easy target.

Of course, this meant that the ones like Jack, Sniper, Finch, Blink, etc, had to teach everyone else to fight at least a little, but it was working out alright so far.

“I don’t see why anyone would wanna soak someone for no reason,” Albert commented, when he and Finch were hanging out in an empty Lodging House. They’d gotten done earlier than anyone else that day.

“It ain’t that simple.”

“How ain’t it?”

Finch shrugged, “All the Brooklyn boys who’s rough is rough for a reason. Some of ‘em had bad folks. Some of ‘em, Spot found in a gang or somethin.’ Some spent time in the Refuge. Some grew up on the streets. All them rough ones grew up so’s they don’t know how to be anything else.”

“Blink’s folks were bad,” Albert pointed out, “Race was in the Refuge for a while. Crutchie grew up on the streets. They all turned out alright.”

“Yeah, cause Jack was there to help ‘em.”

Albert didn’t know how to respond to that.

Finch sighed, “Albert, you don’t get it. Here, everybody’s family. We talk stuff out. In Brooklyn, you got anger problems, Spot just tells ya where to aim it. Ya heal on your own or not at all. That’s just how it works.”

“Is that why you got out?” Albert asked.

He only vaguely remembered Finch coming to the Lodging House. One day, Jack had just introduced him, told the others Finch was one of theirs, now, and given him a bed. Nobody had questioned it, because when Jack didn’t immediately tell someone’s past, it usually meant it wasn’t one that should be asked about.

Finch shrugged, “I got tired of needin’ to be strong all the time. Spot protects who he can, but he’s got a lot more guys than Jack. Most of the time, you gotta protect yourself. Need to make sure the other guys don’t see you as weak. I guess Race noticed I wasn’t cut out for it. Told me I should come over to Manhattan.”

“What made you actually do it?”

Finch hesitated.

“Hey,” Albert said firmly, “Finch, you can tell me anything. Like you said, Manhattan is family.”

The other boy took a deep breath but still didn’t say anything.

“That bad, huh?”

Finch sighed, “I did it because Spot said I had to get out while I could. He said some rough boys got wind about me... about me bein’ queer. He told me to run to Manhattan.”

Albert nodded. He hadn’t expected that, to be honest, but it wasn’t like he could judge.

“Okay. That it?”

Finch seemed relieved, but Albert didn’t really know why. It was common knowledge that several pairs of the Manhattan boys were together, and most of the few girls had paired up with other girls.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “Ya know, Spot can’t be caught supportin’ queers. He’d be dead by the next dawn. Guess the guys who figured out ‘bout me weren’t sure enough to do anything. Still, Spot probably saved my life by tellin’ me they knew. I told my old Brooklyn pals it was cause I had a girl who got sick and died.”

Albert did remember that Finch had come during a cold winter. His Brooklyn friends would have bought it.

“Well, that ain’t gonna happen, here,” he said firmly, “If it was dangerous for queers here, Jack woulda had to kick himself out.”

“Shit, you serious?”

“Course. What did ya think Blink and Mush had goin’ on?”

Finch laughed, “Kinda assumed Jack didn’t know about it.”

“Cowboy is oblivious, but not that oblivious.”

Finch laughed again, and Albert tripped over his next breath.

Aw, hell. Why not?

“And uh...” Albert hesitated, “If Jack was in the business of kickin’ out queers to protect ‘em... he’d have to kick me out, too.”

Finch looked at him in surprise, “Albert—“

They both heard the Lodging House door close loudly, then someone cursed loudly. Definitely not Kloppman.

When he looked at him, Albert didn’t think he’d ever seen Finch so scared.

“I know that voice,” he said quietly, “We needs to hide.”

Albert didn’t question it, just pulling Finch into a broom closet at the end of the bunk bed rows.

Kloppman would be back soon. He’d only gone out on a brief errand. With homefield advantage, Albert and Finch should be able to stay hidden long enough to survive.

“Come on, Snitch, you gots to be quieter than that.”

“Ey, Muddy, I know that fuckin’ queer, Finch, is here. We just gots to find him.”

“What makes you think he’s alone?”

“If he ain’t, we’ll just get rid of whoever protects him, too.”

Their laughter made Albert want to punch something.

Finch was breathing quickly, shaking like a leaf. No one should be able to make him afraid like that.

“Hey,” Albert whispered, “Finch, calm down. It’s okay. They’s not gonna find us. They won’t hurt you.”

“This closet ain’t hidden enough.”

“I remember Muddy and Snitch,” Albert insisted, “They’re dumb as horse shit on the pavement. We just gots to stay quiet and wait for Kloppman to get back.”

It couldn’t be long now, but Finch was clearly too scared to think clearly.

There wasn’t much light in the closet, but Albert grabbed the sides of Finch’s face, digging his fingers into his hair to force the taller boy to look at him.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured, “They won’t find us. Finch, breathe.”

Finch took a deep breath, looking Albert in the eye.

“They won’t hurt you,” he said again.

That was when Finch kissed him, grabbing onto Albert’s wrists to keep him close.

Albert was... surprised, to say the least, but he certainly wasn’t complaining, doing his best to stay silent as he kissed him back.

They pulled apart when they heard Kloppman come in. There was yelling downstairs, and the door slammed. Clearly, the Brooklyn boys weren’t willing to risk tangling with an actual adult, even one that Albert didn’t think could actually fight.

“Hey, anybody here?” he called upstairs, “Anyone wanna explain why I just kicked out two Brooklyn boys?”

“Not that I really wants to, but we should probably get out of the closet,” Albert suggested.

Finch laughed, opening the door.

“It’s probably better ya don’t know, Kloppman!” Albert shouted down the stairs.

“Albert? That you?”

“Finch, too!” Finch shouted.

“Okay! And... be careful, boys! Be discreet!”

Albert stifled a laugh. He’d always suspected that Kloppman knew about the various same-sex pairs, but this was the first real evidence he’d seen.

“So, I takes it this ain’t a prank?” Finch asked.

Albert shook his head quickly, “Not on my end. If it was a prank on yours, you don’t really know what a prank is. I enjoyed that way too much for a prank.”

“Glad we agree.”

“So,” Albert said, sitting down on his bunk.

Finch grinned as he let Albert pull him down next to him, “So.”

“Are we still allies?”

“Hope we’s more than that.”

Albert laughed before leaning forward to kiss Finch again.

[abybweisse]

Victoria and John, a contract (part one)

I’m pretty much convinced that not only is John Brown not human (demon or angel would be my best guess), but he has made a contract with Queen Victoria.

We’ve talked about the Albert hand puppet quite a bit, and I truly do believe it serves the same purpose as what Sebastian offered to our earl in ch138 — make the contractor feel as though a dead loved-one has returned.

Our earl didn’t fall for such an offer, but I think Victoria found it all too tempting to pass up. Sure, she still dresses in the black of mourning, talks about Albert in past-tense, and then breaks down crying. However, as soon as the puppet appears, she genuinely behaves as though she thinks Albert is there with her.

This is not simply a puppet; it’s a mind control device, a powerful tool to manipulate her feelings, thoughts, and actions. Sometimes John even uses that deadpan Albert voice to give her ideas and plans of action... not just words of encouragement... as if they are coming from Albert himself. We could simply see it as a parody of real life, since Queen Victoria claimed John Brown was a medium who allowed her to communicate with her dead husband, but I think it’s something way more sinister in the Kuroverse.

However, ch21 shows us, right off the bat, that whatever charm/power John has over her with the puppet, it’s not perfect. As I pointed out above, sometimes she realizes Albert is dead and gone. Historically, Victoria stopped making such frequent public appearances after Albert’s death because of her deep mourning. Here, it’s because John/“Albert” suggests she stay home and out of the public’s eye. John realizes her behavior when she’s upset about Albert, as well as her reaction to the puppet, must take a toll on her reputation. If this says anything about the rest of the contract terms, it’s a poorly-made contract.

But, what else would be in the contract, and what might have been left out? I want to look at the wishes and terms spelled out in ch138 for a possible framework, since a contract between John and Victoria would likely parallel the contract between Sebastian and our earl.

I don’t think it’s simply for Albert’s “return”, since there should be some finiteness to fulfilling the contract. Perhaps it’s to make her think Albert has returned for the remainder of her natural lifespan, and then — upon her deathbed — John gets his “payment”, whether it be her soul or something else. Or it could be until she has achieved some other goal. Or John didn’t make it clear the contract had to have a distinct end and couldn’t be extended.... More on that later.

If there is another wish for John to fulfill? That’s a bit harder to guess. Some specified level of power and influence? Some achievement for the legacy she leaves behind? Revenge against some foe (real or imagined)? 🤷🏻‍♀️ Ch138 might actually give us clues to Victoria’s desires, and not just the one about Albert.

Victoria had been queen since she was 18, she married her beloved around the same time, and she lives in luxury. But her reign saw the new expansion into foreign lands, the wealth raked in by controlling serval industries abroad, and the exotic goods and other treasures that this brought to her and to the British markets... for those who could afford them. Ch21 might essentially confirm this, since John (while being stepped on by the horse) starts listing off her achievements since she’s been queen. The increased power and reach of the nation, her influences on fashion and popular culture, etc. Maybe we should be getting the idea that these grand merits, like creating the “empire where the sun never sets”, are actually achievements made possible only because of John, just like our earl’s successes are largely due to Sebastian’s abilities. It does read similar to ch2’s initial assessment of our earl’s business successes. It also makes sense when paired with Undertaker saying he doesn’t like her, won’t accept “the queen’s coin”, and complains how she sits in comfort and safety while others do her dirty work. Maybe all of her accomplishments are not her own.... More on that later, too! 😏

Some guesses for what might have been included... and left out... of the terms. Let’s go with three wishes, just like our earl was offered. Looking at ch138, we see this about our earl’s first wish:

Wish 1. Speaking the truth.

John must be able to lie to her, simply because she might not have been thinking clearly enough at the time to demand otherwise. Sebastian acted like our earl’s demand to always speak the truth is somewhat of a novelty; he was taken by surprise. We know John can lie to her because he does so every time he says Albert is there with her. That entire wish about Albert is fulfilled by lies.

Wish 2. Obeying orders.

Sebastian is being particularly sneaky here to put an extra condition on the terms... after the terms had been agreed upon. This gives him the ability to not follow every order he is given, unless “I command you” is stated. And to accomplish assigned tasks without following very specified ways of doing so. That’s how he was able to “interrogate” Beast for information about the signet ring... instead of going to the two places our earl told him to go. And he was able to say he completed the task, without admitting he never went there... and without lying, because of how he got our earl to rephrase his questions.

John likely has to pretend he’s a normal human, but also like Sebastian, he’s going to pull off some weird shit that’s definitely not normal for humans... and witnesses will just have to remain willingly ignorant to the oddities... much like Finny realizing he had brought Sebastian iris bulbs, not plants full-grown and in bloom.

Sebastian also makes it clear there need to be limits to the contract terms; there cannot be extensions or alterations to the contract terms by way of orders.

How about with Victoria and John? It seems to me that John must have a lot of leeway, when it comes to obeying orders — how he accomplishes them... if he really obeys at all. He might even be able to obey orders in a way that doesn’t always achieve the queen’s desired results... if he doesn’t want to. It’s difficult to see how this part of the contract works (or fails), since we don’t see much of what they say and do.

What we do see, however, is Victoria making hints about what she wants... and sometimes we see John taking note of it. It makes me feel as though the terms could be as vague as “fulfill my desires” or “make my wishes come true”. If so, we run into the issue of contract limitations again. Where does that end? John really might have accidentally made an open-ended contract....

Sebastian is smart to state that he will not accept orders to give more wishes, extend the contract, or make further changes to the terms. Yes, he is trying to take advantage of the kid, but the kid is also hoping to take advantage of the demon. Each one wants as much as they can get from the contract, just like Sebastian says is to be expected. Which brings us to the third wish.

Wish 3. Protection and no betrayal.

Sebastian threw in the “no betrayal” part as a freebie, since it’s a personal policy of his to not make multiple contracts. He specifies this is a fourth wish that he’s allowing only because it’s an automatic, to him. Our earl set aside the offer to be kept safe from illness; he didn’t think the asthma would return. Besides... imagine how this story would have gone if our earl was stuck inside Sebastian’s body? Very differently, indeed. Entirely different.

I see a setup here for John to be one of those greedy, gluttonous sorts. Charles Grey would be in awe? 😆 I have no idea what sorts of protections John might have offered Victoria, or what she might have agreed to. However, I suspect that 1) the terms might be changeable, so we could later see John do weird things to protect her and 2) John might have another contract with someone else, so betrayal is quite possible. I’d even say it’s likely. With the terms of the contract as loose as I suspect, John could be like Ash/Angela without even changing names, appearances, or personalities.

TL/DR: If John Brown is a demon or angel in a contract with Victoria:

One goal or wish is to make her think Albert has returned.

Other goals seem to be about her achievements and influence as queen. (However, it might even include the crown itself and her marriage.)

He can lie to her, since he lies every time he says Albert is there.

He has to make her wishes come true, but he has a lot of wiggle room on how to accomplish that. And the wishes might not be properly limited.

He probably has to protect her as she achieves whatever goals she has set.

However, he might betray her. Particularly if he’s stuck in a contract that has no well-defined end (other than her natural death).

It’s pretty wild to think about, but it’s entirely possible that Queen Victoria (in the Kuroverse) is a fraud of some kind. What if she made the contract when she was young... and the crown, her beloved husband, her life of luxury... are all just wishes being granted for her? Considering that:

Her birth year is around the time Undertaker rebels and tries to destroy the reaper organization’s HQ... ohh? 🤔

She ascends to the throne the year that Molly G. dies. Her coronation takes place the following year. Hmm. 🧐

And she was, historically, quite attracted to Albert and pursud him to be her husband. As queen, she had to propose to him. Sure, his feelings were mutual IRL, but... maybe not in the Kuroverse? Uh. 🤨

More to come later!

[lilacmoon83]

Clarity

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 15: Sparks Fly, Pt 2

Snow cuddled against him, as they turned the corner and walked along Main street with his arm slung firmly around her.

"Cold?" he asked, with a chuckle.

"The winters here are just about as miserable as they were back home. But I guess cursing us to a place with sunny beaches would have been too pleasant," Snow mentioned. He chuckled and kissed her hair.

"I'll keep you warm," he promised. She smiled up at him.

"You always do," she said, as they were so absorbed by each other that they almost didn't see Kathryn barreling toward them.

"Oh…Kathryn," she said. The other woman glared at her.

"Well, I should congratulate you on the success of your article," the blonde said, as she held up a copy of the Storybrooke Mirror.

"My article? I didn't write that," Mary Margaret refuted.

"Oh no...but do you really expect me to believe that it wasn't you that fed these lies to this reporter!" Kathryn hissed.

"She didn't...we don't even know who this August person is," David insisted.

"Then why did he write these things!? You were my husband! I didn't make it up!" she shouted. He sighed.

"Maybe not, but for a really long time, I was gone and you didn't seem to give me a second thought. Did Regina tell you that she knew I was in the hospital the whole time?" David questioned. He knew that they couldn't really tell her that the marriage was exactly fake since that didn't mesh with her curse memories. But pointing out certain anomalies would bring other things into question.

"N...no, she didn't. She said she just found out you were there when you woke up," Kathryn said.

"But that can't be true. She was listed as my emergency contact and would have been notified the moment I was in whatever accident that I was in," David replied. Mary Margaret caught onto what he was trying to do.

"That's right...and the hospital had you listed as John Doe. That doesn't make any sense if you had an emergency contact. Regina would have been able to identify you," she recalled. This made Kathryn recoil in confusion. Everything they said made a lot of sense.

"But why would Regina hide you from everyone, especially me?" she asked.

"I don't know...but I don't think she's your friend like you think. Besides, do you really want to be with someone that can't love you the way you deserve?" he asked. Kathryn swallowed thickly and shook her head.

"Of course not...and I know we were just going through the motions," she admitted.

"You'll find someone," Mary Margaret assured her.

"That's easy for you to say," Kathryn grumbled.

"It is, but I happen to know someone at the school that's perfect for you. He's the gym class teacher," Mary Margaret said.

"I don't need dating advice from you!" Kathryn replied, as she stormed off.

"Well...that went well," he muttered, as they continued along the street.

"It was so nice of Regina to plant it into her head that I must have influenced the reporter to write that article," Mary Margaret said sarcastically. He scoffed.

"Yeah, we probably should have anticipated that, but why did you tell her that she should meet the gym teacher?" he asked curiously. She smiled coyly.

"Because Jim the gym teacher is really Frederick, her true husband," she replied and he smiled.

"Sneaky…I like it," he said, as they arrived at the Storybrooke Mirror's building. They knocked on the office door and unsurprisingly, Sidney Glass answered.

"Well...if it isn't Storybrooke's favorite adulterers," he said.

"Watch it or you'll find out how good my right cross is," David warned.

"What can I do for you and the fair Miss Blanchard?" Glass asked and David studied him with scrutiny. He seemed familiar, but he couldn't place who he might have been back in their land.

"We're looking for August W. Booth...he wrote an article in your newspaper," David said.

"We'd just like to talk to him," Mary Margaret added.

"Well...that makes three of us. You see, Mr. Booth neither works here nor had authorization to put that article in my paper," Sidney explained.

"Then why did you print it?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Isn't it obvious? This man broke into my office and placed his article in my paper without my knowledge or approval," Sidney replied.

"You must be in hot water with Mayorzilla then," David joked. He had heard Emma call her that in an offhand remark and decided that it was a fitting description if he had ever heard one.

"Laugh now, if you must, but I'll be printing a retraction to the article and then the town will go back to believing the truth about you both. You the cheater and her the tramp," Sidney said, which caused David to put his hand around the other man's neck and push him back against the door.

"If you hurt me...I'll make sure you're thrown in jail!" Sidney warned nervously.

"David...he's not worth it. He's a worm," Mary Margaret urged, as she touched his arm. David released him and backed away, as he attempted to collect himself.

"The waters have been muddied now and the truth always comes out, trust me. The town isn't so eager to believe anything reported by you anymore," David warned, as he took her hand and they continued on their way. As they walked by the alley, they didn't see the man standing there listening to the whole conversation.

Now that August knew they were looking for him, he would have to be careful to avoid them. They were clearly awake and he didn't want to be the one to tell them the truth about the wardrobe and who he really was.

"You two look cold...how about some cocoas?" Granny called, as she happened to be outside at the moment they walked by.

"Really?" Mary Margaret asked.

"I thought our kind wasn't welcome?" David asked and she nudged him.

"I see where Emma gets her lack of tact now," she murmured.

"Do you want the cocoa or not, chisel chin?" Granny asked shortly. Mary Margaret smiled.

"We'd love some," she said, as they followed Granny inside.

~*~

The gavel slammed down, as the Judge brought the hearing to order and they were seated. The Bayliff announced the docket number and the Judge looked over the documents in front of him.

"How do we know this guy isn't in Regina's pocket?" Emma whispered to Gold.

"That's actually a really good question," Neal agreed.

"I will be very convincing and he is more afraid of me than he is of her," Gold assured him.

"What did you do to him?" Neal questioned.

"Here...nothing yet. But I know things about him he'd rather not have made public," Gold replied vaguely.

"Wonderful…" Neal drawled.

"Who cares if it gets us visitation," Emma said and Neal conceded to that point with a nod.

"We're here today to discuss the visitation right of the biological parents of Henry Mills. I will hear opening arguments now," the Judge said, as Albert Spencer got to his feet and buttoned the front of his suit coat.

"Albert Spencer for the defendant, Mayor Regina Mills, Your Honor," he said, as he approached the bench.

"For the last ten years of Henry Mills' life, my client has raised her son and quite admirably so. She has been there for everything. The sleepless nights, the diapers, the nightmares, and all the ups and downs that come with often grueling duties of a parent. Now that the boy is older, the birth parents have come out of the woodwork to demand him back. To rip him from the woman that raised him would be a grave error in judgement, I believe. The birth parents are unstable and both have criminal backgrounds. It is my position that Regina Mills remain the sole custodian of Henry Mills," Spencer said, as he took his seat.

"Mr. Gold for the plaintiff, Your Honor," Gold said, as he rose from his seat.

"While we can agree that Regina Mills has raised young Henry from birth and provided him with all the material necessities he wants, she has not been exemplary when it comes to the boy's mental health," Gold said, which made Regina seethe.

"I have witnesses willing to submit testimony that they have heard the Mayor call her own son crazy for his very vivid imagination. The boy's own psychiatrist can testify that Mayor Mills' language alone could be very harmful to the boy. So much so that they boy sought out his own birth mother on his own," Gold continued.

"And while both Mr. Cassidy and Ms. Swan have made mistakes in their past, they were barely adults and have since turned their lives around. The boy wants them in his life and his opinion should be considered in this," Gold stated.

"Objection, Your Honor. That boy is a minor and it is not the practice of the courts to allow minors to make decisions concerning their well being themselves," Spencer objected.

"I believe I said that his feelings should be considered; not the sole basis of this case," Gold clarified, but the Judge put his hand up.

"As this is not the actual custody hearing, I believe this is a very simple decision," the Judge stated.

"I have reviewed the case, including comments from Dr. Hopper, who has stated that he has noticed a positive change in the minor in question since the resurfacing of his birth parents," he stated.

"Until we convene on the matter of custody, I am going to grant visitation rights to the birth parents. Every other weekend and two weeknights," he said.

"Your Honor...this is an outrage!" Spencer objected.

"Save it for the custody trial, Counselor. The visitation is only until trial and will be re-evaluated upon the outcome of the trial. But considering the birth father did not even know that he had a son, which could have changed whether or not his son was even adopted, I cannot in good conscience deny him the chance to know his son. The same goes for Ms. Swan, as she was clearly under duress at the time of his birth. Whether they are fit or not will or will not be proven in the custody hearing," the Judge ruled, as he slammed the gavel down. By now, Regina was fuming and if looks could kill, they would have surely all been dead.

"If you think this is going to go your way...then you're sadly mistaken," Regina growled, as she stormed out.

"Thanks...papa," Neal said, as he shocked Gold by giving him a gentle hug, which he reciprocated.

"You know that I would do anything for you...and Henry now," he replied. Neal nodded. He was still struggling with his feelings toward his father, but this had definitely made him reconsider his decision to keep him at arms length.

"Yeah...thanks. I owe you another one I guess," Emma said.

"This one is on the house, Ms. Swan," Gold replied.

"We should go see if we can get the kid and go to Granny's to celebrate. We can invite your parents too," Neal said, as they exited the courtroom.

"Will you stop calling them that?" Emma asked.

"How long are you going to keep denying what you know is true?" he replied.

"Neal…" she said.

"No…I'm serious. You have a gift for knowing when people are lying. I am from a place called the Enchanted Forest. My Dad is Rumpelstiltskin...also known as the Dark One. I escaped through a portal and landed in this world in the 1800's, London, to be specific. Then I got carried off to Neverland by Peter Pan's shadow…" he continued.

"Do you know how insane you sound?" she interjected.

"Yes...but am I lying?" he asked. She scoffed and walked off, but he persisted.

"I got rescued by none other than Captain Hook from the water, only for him to later sell me out to Peter Pan himself. Then I spent two hundred years in trying to escape that hell hole, only to finally succeed and find myself in the Land Without Magic again, America this time, in 1997. Then I met you just a few years later…" he continued, as Gold followed them, listening intently.

"Why does it matter to you so much if I believe or accept them as my parents, which they're not?" Emma asked, as they stopped on the street.

"Because I know how much you always wanted to find them and how much you wanted answers. Both are now staring you in the face and you're running away again," he accused.

"Screw you...Henry is the only thing keeping me here and you know it," Emma replied.

"Nope...now you're lying. You care about Mary Margaret and even David," he insisted.

"Enough! I don't give a damn about them and if it's all true, then why should I?" she shouted, as they were now just outside the diner.

"You've seen the book. You saw that nursery they made...for you. Parents that don't want their kid don't do that, Emma and you know it," Neal said, as neither of them noticed David and Mary Margaret coming out of the diner.

"Why do you care so much!?" Emma cried in exasperation.

"Because I know the truth! You were cheated out of having them and they were cheated out of having you! First, because of the curse...but ultimately, because of a lie told by people that were supposed to be their friends!" he said.

"What?" Mary Margaret asked and he suddenly realized they were there...

[tcm]

Paul Muni, Authenticity and Representation in JUAREZ (’39) By Raquel Stecher

Upon the success of THE LIFE OF EMILE ZOLA (‘37) starring Paul Muni, the studio heads at Warner Bros. were eager to put Muni, their biggest and most important star, in another biographical period piece. His next film was JUAREZ (’39), a historical drama about Mexican president Benito Juarez, the Napoleon appointed emperor of Mexico, Maximilian I and his wife Carlota. Hollywood had been interested in bringing Juarez’s story to the big screen. Great care had to be put into the project as the Mexican government was very vocal about any Hollywood productions that misrepresented their people. MGM’s THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST (’38) had enraged Mexicans so producers Hal B. Wallis and Henry Blanke had to tread carefully with JUAREZ.

Producer Hal B. Wallis saw movie making potential in Benito Juarez recalling in his memoir that “the stubborn, authoritative Mexican hero, was even more interesting and exciting than Maximilian or Carlota, and would be perfect for Paul Muni.” William Dieterle was hired as director yet Wallis and Blanke were in no rush to make the picture. A budget was set for $1.75 million, the most a major studio had ever spent on a single production, and seven months of preparation was put into the project before they ever started filming.

Muni, Dieterle, Wallis and Blanke took a six-week research trip to Mexico City. They visited places important to Juarez. This project was unlike any Muni had ever worked on before and the normally shy Muni really came out of his shell during the research trip. Although sources differ, Muni was able to meet with either one or two surviving members of the Juarist army and was able to get a better sense of Juarez’ personality, mannerisms and preferences to inform his performance. Back at the studio, film researcher Dr. Herman Lissauer accumulated 372 books, documents, correspondence and photographs. There was an overwhelming amount of material, but Wallis and his team were determined to get this right.

Make-up artist Perc Westmore was tasked with transforming the Austro-Hungarian Paul Muni into the Indigenous Mexican Benito Juarez. Westmore and his team took photos of Muni’s face then painted the likeness of Juarez over them. They darkened Muni’s skin, accentuated his bone structure, squared off his forehead and transformed his nose. Westmore noted every step in the process so it could be repeated daily with the same end result. Costume designer Orry-Kelly fitted Muni with a Prince Albert coat and stovepipe hat and the Juarez transformation was complete.

Much care was put into the rest of the production. Orry-Kelly’s researched 1860s wardrobes and dressed the principals, cast and more than 1,000 extras. Art director Anton Grot and his team drew 3,6000 sketches, made 7,360 blueprints and constructed 54 sets which included cities, villages, castles and palaces. Erich Wolfgang Korngold composed original music inspired by the heavy influence the Viennese had on the Mexican music of the time. Even the corn that John Garfield, who plays Porfirio Diaz in the film, eats during one of his scenes had to be Mexican corn which they had purchased at great cost from the University of California’s agricultural program.

What’s unique about JUAREZ is that it was essentially filmed as two separate movies and then edited together. The story of Maximilian and Carlota, played by Brian Aherne and Bette Davis, was filmed first. Muni was shown the first portion and provided his input which included additional scenes and dialogue, much to screenwriter John Huston’s chagrin. Muni’s performance was reserved, perhaps too much so. According to Muni biographer Jerome Lawrence, in later years Muni “felt he had been too faithful to the original, not allowing himself an artist’s prerogative of adding coloration to the historical character.” While many were impressed by how much Muni looked like Juarez, his performance suffered from being juxtaposed with Brian Aherne’s more spirited depiction of Maximilian. Aherne steals the picture from Muni and would go on to receive an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor.

Warner Bros. arranged for a private screening with current Mexican President Cardenas who gave his blessing and invited the studio to host a premiere at the National Theater. JUAREZ premiered in April 1939 and in Mexico later that June. The Mexican newspaper La Prensa had an issue with the final scene of the picture which was tweaked for the Mexican premiere. Protests were expected but the film got a standing ovation instead. Back in the states, the film got mixed reviews and was a financial failure for the studio. While JUAREZ is an international story it had a decidedly American theme of freedom and democracy. It wasn’t enough to appeal to the general public.

The biggest problem with JUAREZ is the lack of actual Mexicans in the film. While that might not have been a problem in 1930s Hollywood, it certainly wouldn’t pass muster today. The principal cast includes a mix of American, British, French-Cuban, Greek, Italian, Austro-Hungarian, Spanish and Maltan players; only Gilbert Roland, who plays Colonel Miguel Lopez, was actually Mexican. Roland remembered the production fondly and, in an interview, said, “there was a feeling of importance, of excitement to it. Even while we were shooting it, William Dieterle guided us all so expertly and with such flow and movement in the scenes…”

While embraced by the Mexican community at the time, JUAREZ also got pushback. Mexican filmmaker Miguel Contreras Torres claimed that Warner Bros. stole his Juarez biopic that he produced in 1934 and dubbed into English in 1935. He attempted to sue Warner Bros., even going as far as meeting with the Mexican ambassador in Washington D.C., but Jack Warner settled the matter by offering to purchase the film for international distribution. In the 1970s, the Mexican Community Council wanted Los Angeles television to stop broadcasting JUAREZ because they felt that the lack of actual Mexican representation made the film problematic.

For anyone who watches classic films regularly, films like JUAREZ are a double-edged sword. We can appreciate the workmanship that goes into a production like this while also feeling the pang that comes from the lack of authenticity. JUAREZ still lives up as a fine historical drama from one of the most celebrated years in film history.