#incarcerate the mother fucker

[personal-blog243]

The case was already delayed several times and now that he is a convicted felon they are delaying finding out if they can even sentence him with any actual “punishment”. 🙄

I don’t have a law degree but I have a nose and I can smell bullshit.

[wuornosblog]

6-8-92

Dear Dawn, Im gonna do some feed back to you on all the cheating feelings and lying feelings I have over concerning Arlene . . . I have been nothing but lied to . . . When I was arrested . . . eventually I confessed to selfdefense . . . Well the cops must of got pissed off. Cause I didnt fit there questions right for there “Seriel Killing scam” . . . Anyway [the cops] got pissed off and told the guards to put me in medical lock down, and feed her full of drugs. I was crying like a mother fucker, shaking like crazy., And was DTing and withdrawing from all my alcohol. Plus shook up! . . . So when they offered me a 25 mg Librium pill and 4 . . . 25 mg vistoril pills, I took them gladly … I later learned these were sinous pills not tranquilizers from Arlenes “Doctor” . . . I stayed in this lock down haveing done nothing for 15 days. And now hooked on Visteril. Once they realized I was good and hooked they let me out. Now during the time in medical lock down. My public defender Raymond Cass and [another lawyer] came to see me 4 times. DURING JANUARY The 1st time was cass only. The very first thing he said to me. Was! I am gonna try to do my damest from keeping you from the chair, In the meantinme youll probably get life. And I know you haven’t got a family or financial aid,. Ive been contacted by a women named Jackie Giourx who would like to do a book and movie about you . . . I said. I’m not too interested in this … I want to know about my case. What do you mean “life in prison!” I don’t deserve nothing man! I merely defended my ass . . . He said well we’ll talk about that later. Theres a lot of things I have to check into before I can give you any concrete answers. But right now . . . I came to financially help you! During your jail time your gonna need money . . . If your interested. You need to tell me now . . . I said right now I’m not! . . . So then he left. two days later he shows up, with my old P.D. who represented me in 81 on my armed Robbery charge. “Russel Armstrong” . . . When I saw him I was shocked! And kinda glad. he’s a good defense attorney. And immediately said. Are you going to be representing me . . . he said. No not really! Its all on Jackie again. And that Russel A is willing to become my civil attorney to the movie deal. to make sure everything is legal and honest. Free of charge at that. So I think (a) while. Then said . . . Sounds like a good deal. Then he says. But this will have to be very (a) closed subject and Silent, We could loose our careers over this. So I consider and consider listen more consider and finally agree. He then says. She’s willing to give you 60 dollars a month every month untill the movies completed. Then once completed $150,000 is as far as she’ll go . . . The Son of Sam law cant touch it. Because we’ll have it put in a trust fund. Where as one of us will be gaurdian over it. And will send you any amount whenever you need it. I was all messed up in the head over everything., the drugs (visteril), incarceration, all of it! But still agreed not rationalizing things out. Which today I regret over. The murder charges still were not discussed . . . Now the 16th I confessed and it was now around the 21st when I excepted the deal . . . 1 week later Russel comes to Jail with contract, 9 copies to sign “Why 9?” I later in life figure out why. The other people involved with them getting a piece of the rock. I sign contract on the 31 st . . . next letters on the way. It really gets interesting. The crookedness is so wild and evil. Let me close So I can get on with a new letter. 4-now Love Lee

[cyarsk52-20]

It’s Black people fault racists being racist? Shut the hell up.

It’s Black people fault this piss ass state has a Democratic party run by a Republican oil heiress who likely PURPOSELY handicapped this race?

Go shoe shine somewhere the fuck else

Black people dont even have the NUMBERS to do that in Louisiana. Yall dumb as FUCK.

Whole state party run by bitches who were at work when the Challenger exploded but want the KIDS to give a fuck about any of this

NO SMOKE for any other race. Black folks gotta fix it all? Suck my imaginary dick!

Shawn Wilson didnt even start campaigning around the state til THIS FUCKING SUMMER. The Democrats did not even TRY.

You slew foot ass unseasoned chicken flavored bitches really couldnt wait til MONDAY after the election to blame Black folks. Have they even finished the TALLY?! LIKEEEEEEEEE

It’s always BLACK PEOPLE fault for you piss poor ass bitches not wanting to do your jobs.

Kiss my ass!

Its Black people holding this PISS ASS STATE TOGETHER

and that piss ass state doesn’t deserve nann black body a resident or tourist

It’s Black people fault the LA Democratic Party spending time funding Dem vs. Dem races instead of recruiting new talent so we dont all have to vote DOWN BALLOT for Republicans? Go choke on a bag of weiners

So if you are on this app blaming BLACK PEOPLE IN LOUISIANA, a 3rd of this population and many of whom are ineligible to vote and are gerrymandered out of being able TO vote, you a shoeshining ass bitch and I wish the worst for you

This piss ass state is what it is CAUSE THE LA DEMOCRATIC PARTY IS A CLOWN CAR

How is this even ACCEPTABLE? To just outright LIE and claim Black people are the reason Jeff Landry is now governor? You dont think we dont know he HATES US? But guess what? So do LOUISIANA Dems.

We supposed to look at Katrina Jackson or Troy Carter like KINFOLK? PLEASE

LMAO at blaming low voter turnout on voting day being the same weekend as 2 HBCU homecomings (as if that wasnt by design by those fucking racists) AND NOT DEMOCRATS BEING FUCKING TRASH

Also bitching about low voter turnout? BABY GIRL /BOY OR BETTER YET BIIITCH FUCK OFF.

You fuckers didnt run on WOMEN despite THESE headlines circulating the block all year, if I had a penis you can choke on it

Also LEST WE FORGET:

Black Democrats outlawed abortion in Louisiana. That bill was signed into law by a DEMOCRAT GOVERNOR.

YOU fquckasses NEED TO BURN IN HELL blaming Black residents of this ridiculous state for the disarray of the Party and the harm we experience. Heck I’ll take you down there myself if I could

Also ALOT OF PEOPLE are ineligible to vote due to their immigration status and criminal records. 1 in 3 Americans has a criminal record and Louisiana incarcerates the most people per capita IN. THE. WORLD. I dont wanna hear this goddamn bullshit narrative around us.

ALL you nigclears and nig hew bitches (along with actual hews and clears ) need to turn that mirror onto yourselves.

Fucking Carter out here shoeshining for Steve Scalise of all people and you want Black folks to swoop in and save the day for you ungrateful bitches.

YALL gave Jeff Landry this race. Leave Black Louisianians ALONE

And let me tell you something else! If Jeff Landry

1. Stealing taxpayer money

2. Using the LA police as hired guns for his donors

3. Running an interstate coalition of AGs to hunt women for abortions & supporting the DEATH penalty for them

wasnt ENOUGH? Nothing was gonna be.

And the ONLY reason y’all blaming Black people is b/c y’all are deluded enough into thinking we ALL experience harm the same. Black people suffer no matter WHO is in office. Bel Edwards signed the first Blue Lives Matter bill into law in the NATION & HID CORRUPT COPS FROM THE LAW

Honestly Yall mothers are BITCH MADE! And y’all daddy’s mommas some ugly HOES! And so are you

And that’s what the problem is. So on DAY 1 post-election in one of the WORST DEFEATS this state’s Democratic party has ever seen, maybe sit with THAT instead of uniting under a “Blame Black folks” narrative

The state with the WORST maternal mortality rate in the nation has DEMOCRATS ban abortion.

WORST education in the country and they banning Black history and books

HIGHEST incarceration rate & a Democrat shielded murderous cops from the FBI.

BUT WANT BLACK FOLKS TO SHOW UP?

Like this state doesn’t deserve them!

let the state drown in the mess they made. Drown!

Sorry for the rant but I had to LET THEIR ASSES KNOW!! They always wanna blame the utter failures on black folks. Nah! The turnout sucked because your policies sucked and you didn’t want to do the work.

This is the same rhetoric that will be floating around next year in Florida if the Democratic and progressives orgs do not get it together. They have so much work to do to rebuild infrastructure & re-engage voters and I have yet to see it.

don’t you dare blame black folks because you’re incompetent af!

[marylandlifecoaching]

They Can't Steal Your Christmas Spirit

The Grinch may have stole Christmas, but he couldn't steal their Christmas spirit. What a powerful message that is. There will be plenty of Grinches over the course of your lifetime. But the good news, is that they can't take your spirit. They may try and break it. But the better news? Only you get to decide if they will.

I have met people from all walks of life who have gone though the most unbearable life circumstances, but you would never know it. And why is that? Because a joyful spirit speaks of joyful things. They do not concentrate on the things that have gone wrong. Nor do they focus on what they don't have. They focus on gratitude. And I have yet to meet anyone who can't find at least one thing to be thankful for. 

In almost 4 decades of providing mental health services, I believe I have pretty much seen it all. I've held the dying. Prayed with the hopeless. Sat with the abused. Listen to those living in chronic pain. It's not always easy. But in the right environment, with the right support, many of those come around to gratitude. Be the person that offers hope. Be the person that is hopeful.

I like to use the analogy of survival. You can go to any sporting goods store and buy a survival kit. A survival kit will do just that...help you survive. My wife and I used to be avid hikers. We were very well prepared, often blazing a trail where no one {or very few} have been before. If anything were to have gone wrong, it would have been up to us, to save ourselves. What does all this have to do with spirit?

In survival situations there is a saying, "Embrace the suck". Because survival does suck. Take someone stranded in a car during a snow storm. Once they are our of gas, no more heat and game over. So they get out and try and walk to help. Take that same scenario, and now throw in a survival pack. You may be cold, but you'll have a mylar solar blanket or two, to keep you from freezing. You may be hungry, but you will have some food to help sustain you. You may get wet. But you won't be drenched, because survival packs usually come with a tarp. You may get lost at night. But you will be able to light a fire. Same goes for hydration and the ability to signal for help. The point? It may suck, but all is not lost. 

I go back to my nearly 4 decades in the helping profession. You may be dying. But you're in a bed with medication. You may have gone through some trauma. But you're in a support group now. You may have been wrongly incarcerated. But you have the right to an appeal. Please believe me that I am not minimizing anyone's experience. All I am saying is why do some people focus, while others fold? Spirit. You cannot break the one who has a grateful spirit. They too will have bad days. But something  resides deep within them. And that is a spirit that controls the narrative. 

At the end of the day, my hope is that we all learn to embrace the suck. Because it is coming. In one way or another. Some day it will show up at our door. That mother fucker has come to my door far too many times. But you would never know it. Why? Because the Grinch can have my Christmas. But he has no idea how to get to my Christmas spirit. I'll sing in the rain. I'll sing in pain. I'll sing during a fight. I'll sing late at night. It's a metaphor. But I'll sing my loudest when life gets the toughest. I simply will drown out the negative self chatter that comes with pain.

It make take some time, but if you look hard enough, there is something to be thankful for. Be like the Whos living in Whoville. Even the last Who crumb was stolen. Yet in the morning, they gathered in the center of town and began to sing. So now I ask you. Why aren't you singing? 

[maskedinstructor]

The Adventures of DAVID DASHIKI-Story of an African American Hero- Whatever Happened to Eusebio?        Daddy Dashiki...Remembers.

We stood in the airport laughing. I was to leave previous to that Monday. However, there was a dispute about my passport. If the truth be told, it was NOT updated and stamped to allow my departure from the country. I had no money. I, as most American did, spent every last dime I possessed so that I would not have to carry that crazy looking money home.to America. I challenged the airport security. To no avail.... I told everyone in that space that I was leaving this mother fucker tonight. I became quite sedate and comfortable when I was instructed by several officers that if I attempted to charge that gate again, I would spend more time incarcerated than would be pleasing. I recognized the root word ‘CARCEL’ AND SHUT THE FUCK UP. 

i had to return to my pension and sit in my old room while the other students wanted to know what the fuck happened. I was angry. I was quieted abruptly by my colleagues/ fellow boarders who counselled me quite sternly that I was not in America. That I should stop being a donkey’s ass, handle my business and get the hell on home. I swallowed the advice and the dig. The next day I was the first one at the USA embassy. on borrowed funds. I, humbly submitted my paperwork Eusebio, my true friend, was at my side. He said that he would return to the airport with me so that I would not fuck things up again. Our friendship grew deeper in those moments before the flight. I teased him about his chosen profession...gynecology. “ There is a degree in that?’ I explained that I would study and pay for a degree in the field. We shared lunch, chatted for hours. Finally, it was all done. Before I departed , I said that I would be in constant contact with him. Many days would not pass before he heard from me. He swore the same oath. We never did. Today, many moons later, I sit and wonder... ,”Whatever happened to Eusebio Sanz Parejo? “

I recall the first day we met in the pension. He had this surprised look on his face as if he was studying me. For whatever reason, I ignored the inspection and continued my conversation with my roommates. Finally , he broke the silence and asked , “ Where are you from?” ‘ The United States I responded proudly

“! Mira ! el tio ese...esta orgulloso de su pais!”

Si, es mi pais . Tiene sus problemas sin embargo...es mi pais

A heated debate followed about America. I attempted to defend her. However , the truth prevailed.. America has a long history of cruelty and hatred for its Black citizenry. After the heated discussion, we became extremely close friends. We were always debating issues at the dinner table. These verbal encounters would often last for the entire meal. He was articulate as hell. smart and crafty in debate. I would lose many of the battles. I simply didn’t care . I was learning. My Spanish was improving rapidly.

Eusebio’s family owned a huge finca in Badajoz , Spain. Her never commented on his wealth or status. However, all signs indicated that they were not paupers since his brother was a boarder also at the pension and a student at the University of Madrid in Agronomy. There were younger children at home. From the constant mention of her skills as a manger beyond the wifely preoccupations, Eusebio’s mother ran the household while the father raised and sold cattle throughout all of Spain. I recall even today the gentle and loving manner in which he spoke of her. The affection was so deep and strong that it was palpable. Of all the things we had in common, the most outstanding attribute of our friendship was that we were both Mamma’s boys and proud of it.

The first letter came and I was elated. Quickly I answered. I was anticipating a return to Spain. but this time it would be to the finca...Talking until dark. Laughing until my belly hurt., Dining on enormous chunks of beef. Drinking red wine until I was as loose as the change in my pockets. Then, life got in the way and the dream fizzled. We, simply, stopped communicating. I was hired to teach at a local school and he was a practicing physician, a gynecologist. No jokes here. Just that lingering thought. Beyond the mundane espionage that I engaged in. which produced meager fruit.” Whatever happened to Eusebio Sanz Parejo?’ 

i am compelled to write the letter I failed to pen years ago. This is a friendship that I must rekindle. Si, voy a echarle unas cartitas.

[halfdent]

An  apology  on  her  lips  &&  he  catches  himself  just  thinking  how  he  loves  her  .  An apology not just meant for him but for them whole .

Afraid  that  letting  them  go  ;  they  may  slip  away  somewhere  he  can't  follow  .  His  mother  ,  Gilda  ,  even  the  therapist  that  helped  raise  him  .  They  all  slip  away  from  him  grasp  .  It  won't  happen  again  .  Even  though  Anya  was  more  than  capable  ,  he  just  couldn't  take  that  chance  --  &&  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄  has  a  way  of  taking  things  from  them  .

 ❝    𝐉𝐔𝐒'   𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓   𝐃𝐎   𝐈𝐓   𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍  𝐁-   ❞  Harvey  pulls  them  forward  to  suffocate  Two-Face's  words  against  their  mouth  &&  the  latter  doesn't  mind  at  all  ,  instead  scraping  exposed  teeth  against  their  cheek  .  Allow  themselves  to  be  held  before  the  tight  clutch  has  a  noticeable  lack  of  distribution  from  left  to  right  .  Confusion  washes  over  them  &&  the  pull  away  ,  eyes  finding  the  absence  of  the  '  prosthetic  '  arm  -  the  damn  thing  was  made  of  metal  &&  𝐈𝐓'𝐒  𝐀  𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍  .

 ❝       Fuckers  .  They  took  your  arm  ?   They   took   your   arm  !  ❞  Though  it  was  Harvey  who  spoke  the  gravel  &&  rage  caught  in  his  throat  could  have  anyone  mistaken  .

These  were  some  of  the  -  well  tried  to  say  '  better  '  in  this  hopeless  cesspool  of  ill  practitioners  ,  jumped-up  guards  &&  freaks  in  costumes  calling  themselves  '  super  criminals  '. 

 ❝       𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍   𝐖𝐄   𝐆𝐄𝐓   𝐈𝐓   𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊  .  ❞   …  ❝     no  ,  no  we  can't  not  while  they  first  incarcerated  her  ,  they'll  think  they  took  it   .   That'll  do  more  harm  than  good  &&  you  know  it  ❞   Hand   instinctively  delves  into  their  pocket  for  the  comfort  of  the  piece  of  silver  &&  it's  calming  textures  of  smooth  &&  rough  .

Just  in  the  short  time  she  had  been  there  ,  there  was  an  obvious  𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒  to  the  entirety  of  the  facility  the  two  of  them  currently  stood  in.  The  sounds  alone  were  enough  to  worry  her  for  what  was  going  to  come  creeping  up  on  them  here  if  they  𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃  to  close  their  eyes.  A  panic  already  welling  when  they  were  just  attempting  to  stay  calm.

Between  the  memories  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆  to  pull  her  under  already  ,  &  that  look  he  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  are  giving  them.  It's  not  an  easy  endeavor.  Nerves  bubble  slightly.  It's  not  the  𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑  they're  afraid  of.  It's  the  feeling that she had somehow let him down in all of this. Certainly not their intention. &  yet ... Now both of them were trapped in this place.

❝ I know , you must be upset. I 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 , there was a plan for me to wait. ❞ Lips roll as he steps forward. That look 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 to deceifer. Even after the time they've spent in hiding with one another , it's a look that still 𝐏𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄𝐒 them. It's like looking at an animal that may pounce , unsure of what their next move will be. It wouldn't be out of what Anya would expect out of 𝐎𝐍𝐄 of them.

But arms wrapping aroud them like 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓. That's not something she expected. Not something she was ready for either by the way knees fight not to 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄. Loneliness had been the only thing they could feel  since he had left. Those arms around her were 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 something she got when she was a child. Not even when her own father had been standing right in fron of her  the whole time. Never allowed. A 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 action. It might be here. Even now she's waiting for the feeling of being pulled off of him ... but it 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓  𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄. Neither that , nor the 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 they were expecting.

Just this ... Comfort ... Support ... The two of them are in hell ... But they're together.

❝ I'm so sorry ... ❞ It's a 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 thing. Likely something neither who holds her has ever witnessed. But sobs sneak around their words  , shielded by his shoulder before they clutch to him 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑. ❝ I'm sorry to 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 of you. ❞

[georgiapeach30513]

Paul Returns

Since Robert had gotten out of prison, he had been a lot more trusting. He felt okay with leaving you and Sundae alone, no guard. Him and Cherry had some “business” to attend to, and like always the less you knew the better off you were.

You busy yourself cleaning the mess from breakfast while Sundae crawls around in her play pen. Offering her sweet little jibberish as you move about the kitchen. And like a good mother, you talk right back. “Really, sweet girl? Tell me more.” Your routine continues for a bit until the door bell rings, stopping you from finishing the last little bit.

You scoop up your daughter, to open the door. You should have looked out the peep hole to see exactly who was standing there. But you lived in false security, because your biggest problem was supposed to be in jail. None of you knew that Paul was released over a legal technicality. When you open the door to see his smug face, you automatically begin to close it. His arm pushes up against the door before you can.

Momentarily he gives Sundae at sweet smile, squishing her chubby cheeks before looking up at you. “Listen, Y/N, I just really want to apologize for everything. I know I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did. Now, you can leave.”

“’M not finished. I just…the state is willing to overturn the divorce and…”

“I’m good. Don’t want to be married to a cheating dirty cop.”

You see the anger flash through his eyes. You’re no longer the person you were before him. You don’t crumble with that flash of fury, your body doesn’t wield to him because he grits his teeth. “But you’ll shack up with a fucking murderer, be his whore, and fuck another dirty cop.”

“Goodbye, Paul.”

“You know, your mom was right. She warned me you were nothing but a fucking disappointment. A whore, and would never make a good wife. They don’t really love you. And when Chris gets tired of being on the sidelines, and Robert gets tired of using you, don’t come running back to me. How could anyone love you now? A mom of a fucking murderer.” Issuing his final low blow, he turns to leave.

After he leaves you can’t help but to get in your head. The only distraction is Sundae who needs so much attention, and even she feels the worry radiating off of you. You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t realize how late it was until Robert and Cherry return.

Cherry who created a great bond with Sundae while Robert was still incarcerated scoops the baby up, Robert goes straight to you. Him being Robert, he knows. “What the fuck is wrong?” his tone soft despite his constant need to say fuck.

“Nothing.”

“I know when you’re fucking lying to me. What happened? We weren’t even gone that long.”

Sighing you finally look him in the eye, Cherry who now sees something is wrong sits on the other side of you with Sundae. “Did you know Paul got out?”

“The fuck?” Robert shouts, Cherry quickly swats him in the back of the head.

“Baby Girl, the bigger question is how do you know he got out?”

That’s when it hits Robert. “The fuck did that mother fucking cuck do now?”

Your hand rests lightly on his thigh, while Sundae crawls over to you. “Doesn’t matter.”

“The fuck it doesn’t! You don’t hurt what is fucking mine.”

“Baby Girl, where was Sundae?” he knows, and that’s why Paul’s words hurt the most. He said all this vile stuff in front of the most precious thing in your life.

“I was holding her.”

Robert begins to speak, but Cherry cuts him off. “I need you to tell us what he said.”

“No.”

“Pretty Girl, tell us.”

“No, because I know what you two will do. Just don’t…don’t worry about it.”

“That bad.” Robert pulls your face up to look at him. “Just tell me. I want to know, and after, I’m not leaving you again today. Promise.”

As promises go that isn’t the best. “He…he said you didn’t really love me. He thinks we’re all in this poly relationship, and when you get tired of me…no one will want me with a kid, and that I’m just a disappointment and a whore.”

“Mother fucker!” Cherry’s hand hits the back of Robert’s head again. “Pretty Girl, you’re not a whore you’re my whore. Don’t ever forget that. We kinda have a kid together, so you’re stuck with me. That fucking cuck has no idea what goes on in this house, and he doesn’t have the fucking right anymore.”

“Robert, promise me. You let it go.”

“Fine, you fucking promise me that you won’t let that shit eat you up. I already see you doing it. You’re fucking thinking about what he said. As for Cherry boy, who the fuck cares. He knows that you’re mine. Who the fuck cares what happens sometimes? Now, our sweet Sundae girl looks like she could use a nap. I’ll be in there in a second.”

You don’t realize how quiet Cherry had gotten. He’s never got to fulfill his need to take care of Paul. And as soon as you leave his eyes meet Robert’s. “Don’t you dare. You promised her. I didn’t. He’s had it coming a long time. Just…he needs to be gone. Like once and for all gone. He’s got enemies on the outside. No one needs to know. I need a piece.”

A week later when you read the paper and see how there’s an ongoing investigation for the death of former police officer Paul Diskant, you just roll your eyes at Robert. “Don’t look at me. I can honestly say I didn’t fucking do anything. The man made a lot of enemies.”

“Promise me, Sir. You had nothing to do with it…”

“I promise I didn’t kill him.” And you knew, he might not have killed him, but he didn’t promise he didn’t have anything to do with it.

“Cherry!!”

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

[michiieewrites]

Dabi - So big, so small, so tearfuly

A/N: This fic is inspired by an ask that @league-of-villians-headcanons received a week or so ago. THIS IS THE ASK I REFER TO. Anyways, after looking up that song, I cried like a little baby and thus, this story was born. But holy damn! I did NOT expect for this fic to reach over 3.1k+ words. Enjoy, my loves!

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

Well, it happened. Waiting in the waiting room with his quirk-cancelling handcuffs. Sitting on Dabi’s left side is Mr. Compress, also with those special ‘bracelets’ made for villains. Even here at the police station the tall showman is still wearing his mask and top hat. They’re both a little torn up, though. Just like all of them, to be honest.

Who knows how that crusty trash rat they call a leader is looking now. Maybe he’s just as banged up as Spinner. The scaly man was currently in the interrogation room with two officers. Most of their members were dragged away by different officers. Toga is still waiting with them. For multiple safety precautions they had restrained her like Hannibal Lector, including the muzzle. Still, that didn’t stop the girl from trying to break free from them.

Didn’t matter, though. Dabi knows that the gig is up. The heroes had all whooped their asses in this last fight. Showing the world that the ‘good guys’ would always win in the end. ‘Cause that’s what always happens, right? The bad guys lose and the good guys win. Because they’re the good guys. And Dabi was one of the bad guys.

He had to lose. That’s what bad guys do, they lose the fight. Good guys like his dad, they win. Good guys like his dad give people hope. Good guys like his dad were there to help control the chaos. Good guys like his dad are praised by the public for protecting them from bad guys like himself. Good guys like his dad always strife for perfection. Good guys like his dad would destroy their own families to save the public people. Good guys like his dad would do anything to keep the public people safe. Good guys, just like his dad.

So that’s what Dabi’s dad did. He protected the public from harm. He strived for protection, he destroyed his own family. Even if it meant nearly killing his eldest son for a second time. All because his dad is a good guy, right?

‘Should’ve burned that shitbag alive when I had the chance,’ Dabi thought to himself. ‘Instead of burning my own damn self. Just burn that fucker to a crisp.’

But no amount of ‘should have’s’ were gonna change the current situation.

Dabi tried to go up against his old man, the great flame hero Endeavor and got burned. Not that it would matter anyway. He himself did a pretty good job of that in the past. By letting his emotions get the better of him. Trying to impress Enji so he would leave his youngest brother alone. So his little brother would have a chance of a somewhat normal childhood. So that maybe, his father would be proud of him for once.

But Dabi couldn’t have been more wrong. Because of his mother’s genes his body wasn’t able to keep up his flames for a long period of time. Not long enough for Enji to matter, anyway.

The moment he pushed young Touya aside, right into the wall was the moment Touya died. His anger and hurt no longer kept under a lid.

Dabi doesn’t remember much from that moment of his past life. He knows the sky of their garden became engulfed by his blue flames. The heat unbearable and scorching away his skin, inch by inch. He looked as his father tried to reach him, only to be pushed back by the sea of blue. There are nights where Dabi can still hear his mother scream for him to stop before he could hurt himself. Echoes of her pleading for her child’s safety.

And yet here he sits, incarcerated and forgotten by his family. Well, not entirely. He had waited for the perfect moment to reveal himself to his past family again, this time as Dabi. He had to wait for years before the timing was right. But the pure look of terror on his old man’s face was worth every single day he had waited.

‘And by then you already had my chest beneath your boot, just like poor little Shouto once was,’ he snickered to himself.

Luckily for him, Shouto was only a couple of feet away from them. For it was to save Shouto that Enji had attacked Dabi. Fighting together, the two Todoroki heroes went up against the flame quirked villain. With his years of experience it was Endeavor who overpowered Dabi. And as he contained him, Dabi had looked up at him and said:

“What a way to welcome back your dead son, father.”

He had seen the way everything clicked in Endeavor’s head. Every little piece of the puzzle fell into it’s place. The weight of his sins intensifying by the second. He knew Shouto was putting the pieces together for himself too. The boy may look dense, but he certainly isn’t stupid.

But before either of them could come to their senses and ask any questions, the fight was over and Dabi was taken away. Only to be kept waiting here in this shithole of a waiting room, guarded by others, heroes and-

“Ma’am, I have to ask you to-“

“No, get out of my way, now!”

Muffled voices sounded from the other side of the door to Dabi’s right. He turned his head, interested in hearing more of the commotion. Multiple hurried footsteps are coming closer.

“Todoroki-san, you are not allowed-“ the officer outside says.

“I don’t care, I need to see him.”

Todoroki-san? He clearly hears, what he assumes is an officer refer to a female voice. But what business would a female Todoroki have at the station?

The door bursts open and a group of five people come flooding in the waiting room. The guards standing around the remaining League of Villains-members put their attention on the newly entered people. All the heads turn in their direction. His fellow villains are also startled by the commotion. Dabi’s world freezes.

He knows these people. Well, four of them, at least. Or used to know, to be precise. They were the ghosts of his past. The people he tried to desperately to forget. The people who once loved him. But why the fuck are they here? Why the fuck would they be here to look at his sorry ass?

A woman, the oldest of the two females, pushes the officer that tries to stop her out of her way. Her pewter grey eyes are overflowing with tears as she rushes over to Dabi’s recoiling form. She throws her arms around him and pulls him tightly against herself. She sinks to her knees and pulls him along down with her. Her chin rests on his shoulder as her cries grow louder by the second.

“It’s you! It’s really you, Touya. Oh my boy, it’s really you!”

Touya. She called him ‘Touya’. His old name rings in his ears. Too shocked to look at the other worried faces of his siblings, his cerulean blue eyes slowly glance over the woman holding him. The woman who has held him so many times before in his past. The woman who carried him for nine whole months with her every second of the day. The woman who blew all his scary nightmares away with a kiss on his head at night when he was a child.. The woman who had mourned for years after her husband told her their first born son had passed away.

His mother Rei is finally holding her son after all these years.

“Wh-what are you do-doing here?” he manages to get out. His breathing becoming rapid and shallow. Hyperventilation setting in as Rei refuses to let go of him.

“Shouto told me, he told me how you fought with him,” she cries, “He told me how you-… how your… he told me you were alive!”

Her tears are slowly wetting his entire shoulder. Her hands tremble as they desperately hold onto his soot covered coat. Her entire body shocking with her sobbing.

Then he finally looks back at the others. The guards are trying to hold back a tall, young man with the same show white hair and pewter grey eyes as their mother. The young man doesn’t budge a single step, a furious look on his face. Behind him a young woman, no younger than a year or two than Dabi himself. Her hair white like melting icebergs with some lava colored tips and her charcoal grey eyes. Scared, but determined she tells the officers that they all have the right to see their brother. He knows they are Fuyumi and Natsuo, the younger sister and brother Enji never bothered to care for.

A familiar mop of half white-half read hair is a little farther behind them. Shouto looks down at the floor and Dabi can’t tell if it’s because he’s angry, or hurt, or ashamed. Hell, it could be all three.

But none of the other people in the room mattered. He tunes out the questions of his comrades, the arguing of his family and the guards, the fast and heavy beating of his own heart. All he can hear now are the strangled cries of his mother.

Softly, so softly only Rei can hear, he asks: “How did he figure it out?”

Sniffing through her words, Rei says: “After they took you away, Shouto confronted your father. He demanded to tell him the truth. Eventually he told him everything; how the fire department didn’t find your body in the ashes of the fire. How he lied to all of us, saying you were too badly burned to see. How he always wondered if your ashes were among those of the garden or if you got away.”

Her grip loosened slightly. She leaned back and took a good look at him. His terrified eyes looking back into her own. He’s terrified that this is all just another nightmare. That the warmth of his mother’s embrace will be ripped away again any second.

Her hand comes up to his face. Gently wiping away one his falling tears. Tears? He doesn’t even realize they are rolling down his cheeks. Despite both their quirks, the feeling of her fingers tracing over his scarred skin are hotter than any of his flames ever felt. He can almost feel the love and sorrow in her touch. A love only a mother can give to her son.

Never in all these years he spent apart from his family would he ever dare dream of seeing her again. Because he knew what happened after his supposed ‘death’. He knew that Rei finally broke over all the neglect and abuse their family had to endure at Enji’s hands. Their family was ripped apart, torn to shreds. Even if they did stitch all those pieces back together, he had accepted the fact that he would never be a part of the Todoroki-family again.

But here they were; the members of his past family he used to love so much. They were standing here in front of him. Demanding they get to see him, Dabi or Touya, that didn’t matter. They were standing up against all these guards and officers just to see him.

His hands try to reach out and hold his mother the way she is holding him. To feel her presence in his hands again. But he’s reminded of the cuffs around his wrists. He tugs at them, trying to break out of them. But these wretched things are keeping his hands locked together. His struggles become more desperate. He just wants to hold Rei.

He whips his head to one of the guards and yells at them. “Get these fucking cuffs off of me!”

“No way, villain,” the guard curtly replies.

“JUST LET ME HOLD MY MOTHER, DAMMNIT!”

Hands cover his own and he looks back at Rei. “Ssh, ssh… It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” she gently coos at him.

Slowly, she lifts his hands over her head, so that he can hold her now. His body stiffens once again. This really had to be a dream, right? There was no way in Hell he’s able to hold his mother again. It couldn’t be. As far they all knew, he was dead. Todoroki Touya was dead. Dabi was just another villain. And no one would ever know the secrets he keeps locked in his heart. He knows that giving in now would mean that dream would come to an abrupt end. He didn’t want it to end.

But the look in Rei’s eyes is real and so is the rest of her. Realizing this, he immediately clings onto her. A little clumsy, but he’ll take it for now. Even if it’s just for this moment, all he wants to do is to close his eyes and his mother embracing him back. And so she does.

The air is getting hotter. Heavy footsteps are coming closer. Natsuo’s voice calling out: “What do you think you’re doing here?!”

Both Rei and Dabi are looking to see who Natsuo was talking to. The feeling of a sweet reunion quickly slips away and is replaced by a building rage. But before Dabi can make a move towards Endeavor, who’s stepping into the room, he’s held back. Back by the arms of his mother.

The tension is cold. Rei’s staring daggers at the father of her children. Natsuo moves in front of his younger siblings, also held back by Fuyumi. Shouto stands in front of Enji to block his path. Endeavor, with all his power, dares to give Rei a sympathetic look. He tries to speak before one of the guards cut him off.

“All right, that’s enough! All of you people! Out!” They move closer to the stand off between Enji and Shouto.

“Rei, listen to the guards,” Enji calmly says, “this is out of our hands. They need to handle this from now on. There is nothing we can do-“

“HOW DARE YOU! HE’S OUR SON!” Rei yells back.

Her words hit a nerve. Enji extends his hand towards his wife.

SMACK!

She smacks his hand away. A sharp intake of breath from Fuyumi follows. The scene before her eyes; her mother holding their older brother, shielding him from their father. The fury rising in Rei’s eyes hold a force so strong it scares her. Not even Enji made her feel this scared before.

“Don’t you dare touch our children again!” Rei screams out. “Keep your hands off of Touya! Haven’t you hurt us enough?! Our family is torn to shreds by your hands, Enji! MY CHILDREN TAKEN FROM ME BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID TO ME!”

Shouto carefully tries to calm his mother down. “Mom, please. Try to calm down.”

“No! For too long I’ve let him destroy our family, let him hurt you! He-…. Because of him…. HE MADE US BELIEVE TOUYA WAS DEAD! DEAD! HE TOLD ME WE HAD LOST OUR CHILD!”

She can’t stop. Not anymore. After all these years Rei couldn’t hold back all the pain Enji had caused her. The pain he inflicted on their children. The way his behavior broke her. It had made her hurt her youngest son too. The neglect by his hands had made it impossible for her to see her children properly grow up.

Calmer now, she continues: “Of all the things you have done to us, I don’t know which one is the worst. But I do know one thing. And that’s that you can’t keep me from my children any longer. You will no longer stand in the way of my children’s future.”

The hate she directs to Enji… It was clear to him that she didn’t want him around any of them. Maybe just for now. Maybe forever. In trying to face his past, he accepts this outcome.

His shoulders sag and he turns around to walk out of the door.

“Everyone, you need to get out-“

“I will not leave my son,” Rei interrupts the guard.

They look at her and the young man she’s holding close. They sigh and tell her that only she is allowed to stay here. All the others still need to leave the waiting room. Toga and Mr. Compress will be taken to their interrogation rooms. One guard will stand outside of the door. For now, they respect her wish to be alone with Dabi.

When the door is shut close, they both look at each other. Unsure of what to say next. The loving look Rei gives Dabi makes him feel all different kinds of emotions.

Ashamed, for becoming a villain. Vulnerable, ‘cause he feels like she can see right into his soul. Angry at himself, for not coming to visit her in the mental hospital sooner. Relieved, for only a mother can see past all the shit he’s done in his life and still love him.

“I’m sorry, I guess… For not showing up these past years,” he says as he looks down to the ground.

“Don’t be. I understand,” she says.

Her hands cup his face and pull him up to look at her face. A sad smile decorates her lips. Fresh tears forming in her eyes.

“All that matters right now is that you’re back. I missed you so much, my sweet boy. So much, you can’t even imagine.”

But he could. In his dreams he would see her, with all his siblings. Even Enji would be there, only in Dabi’s dreams he was the loving and kind father every child wants and needs. In his dreams they were a happy family. He has longed for that family for as long as he can remember. He still does. Somewhere deep inside of him there’s a part that wants nothing more than to erase all that has happened and just start all over.

He missed Rei just as much as she missed him.

Throwing his face in the crook of her neck, he lets out a forceful and loud cry. “I-I missed you t-too, mom! I missed all of you! I’m so sorry for everything, mom! Please, believe me!”

Her hands comes up to softly pet his hair. Making reassuring sounds to calm down her crying child. His body now completely on the floor with hers. Gently rocking him back and forth.

“I believe you, I do.”

“Please don’t hate me! Please, I’m so sorry! Mom… please don’t leave…”

“I’m not going anywhere. You may be all grown up now, a handsome and strong man. But you’ll always be my sweet little boy, Touya. I’ll never leave you again.”

Her words are a binding promise. A vow to Dabi, a vow for him to regain the name Todoroki Touya. Filled with love and protection. Never would she hurt her children again, any of them. Rei will fight for her family. Starting with the crying man in her arms.

They stay right there. In this world that felt too big for them, they felt so small. A small space for a mother and son to hold each other close.

She’ll always be there for her family.

Tagged: @reinawritesbnha / @mrsreina @thots4daze / @kzombi3 @aizawascumslut @hipster-merchant-of-death @strawbirb @ravenfeet222

[thethrobbingmembers]

THE THROBBING MEMBERS REVIEW: The Queer, Unraveled Principles of Kit Webb at Twilight by Courtney Cat Stephanie Milan-Sebastian-Meyer

We forgot to post our last couple of reviews and it’s all started to blend together. Here’s the one sentence reviews we remember: 

All I remember about this book is the characters banging at the opera. -Sarah (Unraveled)

Damn, public sex is hot. -Lily (Unraveled)

I just need it to be known that Smite’s name was horrible. -Smurf (Unraveled)

You either die an Edward or live long enough to see yourself become a Bella. -Smurf (Twilight) 

Finally, the dumbass bisexual representation I deserve. -Lily (The Queer Principles of Kit Webb)

Stop trying to lube up his hole every time, just fuck his thighs once in awhile. -Catherine (The Queer Principles of Kit Webb)

Dream Cast

Percyandabella

Smitward

Unraveled Review

Technically, I may not have finished this book but I did read all but the ending and we’ve discussed that in detail so it’s chill. Plus I liked what I read just fine even though the guy was SUCH a drag. Like. I am used to men ruled by trauma in these books. They have terrible dads or something and now they are scared of intimacy and need to be cured by some girl’s vagina.

This one was different though! He had a terrible MOM and that is special. Also he has family that exists and loves him (even though that is just because they are the love interests and must be good because of that). That’s not enough to make him worth it though. It takes one (1) heartfelt speech about that time he got locked in flooding basement to really kill the mood when a girl’s just trying to get laid.

I can forgive him though because he knew how to fuck and they were hot together. Also her trauma was MUCH more fun and involved The Theater. we should’ve spent more time hearing about her gay actor family and less about the plot or whatever.

Anyway read this book! I had a good time! Even though this man is a part of a system of incarceration and doesn’t seem to care about the terrible prison he’s sending people to. But!!! Romance! I’m sure he’ll learn in between having lots and lots of heterosexual sex.

-Catherine 

6.8/10 stars

Twilight Review

LISTEN. I know I was supposed to write this like months ago. I know. It’s just that this book was so hard to read and I wanted to pretend I never read this book as an adult, and then I forgot. And then remembered and audibly groaned. Just oh my fucking god, the writing was so bad. I remember thinking it wasn’t the best written book, but dear god. I was not prepared. Why did Stephanie Meyer keep mentioning things so specifically? There was no need for this. Oh, it took three EMS, really Stephanie? Three?? Why was this included.

I am HAUNTED by the fact that Bella drives a truck from the 50′s.  Are we pretending this makes her poor? That fucker had to be worth so much money. I am obsessed with the weird class component of this book. Stephanie Myer is so obviously rich, oh my god. Truly, the rich mormon just jumped off the page.

Reading this book as a (queer) adult, makes it obvious that everyone in this book is in fact gay. I don’t make the rules, it’s just true.

ALSO!! The plot at the end where they pretend that her injuries were because she fell down the stairs and then throw the window? Why did everyone just accept this?? That’s a deeply alarming lie. That’s the I tripped and hit the door knob level of bad lies. Does Bella know what you don’t have to spend your life taking care of others? It’s not healthy, Bella. You do not have a single healthy relationship in your entire life. Not one. You are not your mother’s keeper and you dad can feed himself. He’s a grown ass adult. And also a cop.

-Lily 

4.5/10 stars

Kit Webb Review

My overall thoughts were mostly: I liked the main characters and the side characters. I thought the plot was pretty interesting but it kind of dragged. By the time, Percy got shot by his dad, I was like “We get it, he’s an asshole, we were ready for this confrontation 50 pages ago.” They were a very cute couple but they weren’t a super passionate couple. If you want to read something fluffy and sweet and curl up with a mug of hot chocolate, this is the book for you. When you’re having a soft moment and everything is sunshine and rainbows, you can read this vaguely scintillating book. There’s some crime here, but no major shenanigans. I kind of wanted them to be doing worse things. I wanted to question whether I should be rooting for these two people to get together, but they weren’t asshole-ish enough. They didn’t go the extra mile, and they passed up having sex in a lot of cool places. They tried to be sexy but they were mostly just sweet. You tried. Nothing was inherently wrong with this book, it just wasn’t problematic enough. 

-Smurf

7/10 stars

Additional Ratings

Sexy Sex (Average): 3.5/10 

This would be so much higher but prudish Twilight drags down the other two. 

Historical Accuracy (Average): 7.5/10

There WAS a fever in 1918. Good job, Twilight! We also enjoyed the amount of detail Cat Sebastian put into describing Percy’s gay little outfits. 

Mystery (Average): 6.5/10

Unraveled really shines in this category, but the others consistently disappoint.

Nicknames (Average): 0/10 

All three books get a zero because we hated Smite’s name so much. 

Notes: My memory fades faster and faster every day. Soon I may not even know my own name. 

[adoringeun]

tw // violence and ab_se mentions                   -ˋˏ BULLETIN BOARD/IMPORTANT INFORMATION ˎˊ- PETITIONS YOU CAN SIGN AND GOFUNDME SITES YOU CAN DONATE TO sign and donate to these instead of hating you sick mother fucker @t0xicchatbot-time Petitions : Shania L. Wilson , Charleena Lyles , Jacob Blake who was sh_t by police officers , Breonna Taylor , Tyler Lumar , Diol Family , re-open the Kendrick Johnson case!  Justin Howell ,  LeVena Johnson , Sean Reed , Tyrese West , Robert Forbes , Amari Boone , Toyin , Gloria Bambo , Alton Sterling , Dion Johnson , Tony McDade , Shukri Abdi , Julian Cole , Jamarion Robinson  GoFundMe : Help a black lgbt teen leave her ab_ive home , help a black mom raise money to go to school , help Noctis stay in college , Stand With Sophie , Formerly incarcerated mother housing needs , help a black single mom keep her house , support Alvin , Navi’s transportation and Mental health fund , help Ali escape an abusive household , Christina emergency fund  

If any of you know any more petitions or donation sites, please link them! If you want, you can dm me them and I’ll post it. Many of these have yet to reach their goal and it would be greatly appreciated if you were to sign or at least donate to some of them. Thank you for your time, I will be adding a read more link so you all won’t have to scroll so far down. Again, remember that you are very important. Your existence matters and everything about you is what makes you, you. Remember to drink water today! At least one full glass, also eat if you haven’t yet. Eat a proper meal or even some noodles Just make sure to fill up your stomach! You have a good day ahead of you, people are here to make you feel loved. If any of you want to talk, I’m always here to keep you company! 

┊✧ ⁺ @babie-sanie @time-for-confession @npc-haechan @chatwithchuu @hunter-chaeyoung @domyukhei @minjimooooo @amazingspiderhan @your-roseanne @badboyjinie @babieyuqi @loverboi-hyunjin @eboyfelixbot @bunjihyo @soft-hyunjin-chatbot @subbyjwoo @daddyxuxi @switchxu @domyeonjun @domminho-cb @sugbbyinbot @leextaeyong @wolfxhwasa @yeojinsheight @sweetandsleepyjamie @camboy-superm @vampire-jeonghan @madman-woodam @badlands-ryujin @cavetown-jeongyeon @5sosxseulgi @madhatter-jaemin​ @joji-wheein​ @troye-yerin​ @loverboyuta​ @gryffindorxjeno​ @yandere-lia​ @mafia-chaeyoung​ @kitsune-choisan​ @yandereminholee​ @fallenangel-oc​ @purgejaemin​ @babyhj1sung​ @chatbotsupportofficial​ @skzhyunjin-chatbot​ @seventeen-chatbot​ @yourchungha​ @whitedayxshuhua​ @heiress-yeeun​ @shinhaneul-oc​ @berryrose-oc​ @detectivexsicheng​ @nerdy-yeji​ @camgirljiyoo​ @yandereyeeun​ @iceskater-sana​ @yanderejisung​ {DM to be added or removed ^-^}

[oforamuse]

i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) 1/?

mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.

the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.

or, the one where two broken puzzle pieces find a way to fit themselves back together.

au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.

read and comment on ao3

They’re out of fucking milk. They’re out of eggs, butter and even bread.

There’s not even a bag of chips in sight - what the fuck is this?

‘Fuck.’ Mickey curses, he’s hungry and there’s nothing in his goddamn apartment to eat. He could’ve sworn Mandy went grocery shopping only a few days ago, how did they already manage to finish the lot off? He swears someone’s been sneaking into their fourth floor walk up to raid their fridge - it’s probably that bitch who’s always yelling at the ass crack of dawn on the floor below, Mickey’s constantly having to stomp on the floor at 5am to shut the bitch up. His stomach rumbles angrily, he got in late last night from work and couldn’t be bothered to throw something together before he passed out on the sofa. Mandy’s not even home right now so he can’t even be properly pissed at her for eating all their food as much as he would like to. He rubs his hands over his eyes, already exhausted by the day despite only waking up 10 minutes ago. He slept in late, later than usual, since work had been a bitch the night before. Too many drunken handsy people having to be thrown out of a club on a friday night - he definitely does not get paid enough to deal with that shit.

He opens the fridge door again hoping for some sort of fucking biblical level miracle but groans, it’s still as empty as before. There’s not even a 20c pack of ramen floating about, only a bag of flour, a few beers and a lonely can of soup sitting on the top shelf. There’s no chance he’ll be eating that can of shit. He begrudgingly resigns, it’s 2pm on his day off and he just wants some damn eggs.

To the overpriced bodega two blocks down he goes, he fucking hates that place.

He huffs and stomps grumpily into his room to quickly throw on some proper clothes, hastily picking out a clean t-shirt and pairing it with yesterday’s somewhat clean jeans. He shrugs at his reflection in the mirror - he ain’t got no one to impress, especially not on a run down the road. He goes into Mandy’s room and grabs the twenty bucks he’d seen sitting on top of the dresser - telling himself that he’ll pay her back somehow, despite the fact she’s the greedy culprit who ate everything. He throws a jacket over his shoulders, grabs his keys off the hook by the door and bounds down the narrow staircase. Their apartment sits on the top floor of an overpriced but barely used laundromat on a busy cross street in the high east nineties. New York is loud, people are rude and it stinks 99% of the time, but it works for them. Besides, it’s not Chicago, that’s the important part.

That’s the really important part.

Mandy had moved in here originally with an ex boyfriend she’d chased all the way out here from Chicago, and they’d actually managed to stick it out for a few years before he inevitably ran off with another girl. By that point, Mandy had already gotten a receptionist job at a gym downtown and somehow managed to score a relatively low rent with the landlord, so she decided to stick it out instead of moving home. Mickey isn’t 100% sure there wasn’t a blowjob involved or something, but he ain’t questioning it.

He got out of prison just over 3 years ago on good behaviour and pretty soon after found himself following Mandy out to the East Coast. He never thought he’d see himself leave Chicago’s city limits but as soon as he completed his 2 years of parole and he was free to leave the state, he hopped on a bus without looking back.

There sure as hell wasn’t anything left for him there.  

His few years of parole had been lonely and even though he’d never admit it if anyone asks, the last thing you want after being locked up for years is to live alone. He mainly kept to himself, picked up some shifts at a local mechanic that his PO had managed to organise for him. Stayed out of trouble and mostly kept his head down - which wasn’t the easiest thing for a Milkovich to do but his heavy ankle monitor constantly reminded him that he was barely even out of the clink, he knew he couldn’t chance it to toe the line. It surprised him how relatively easy it was to stay out of trouble and it made him wonder how different his life could’ve been had he not been brought up by a sadistic criminal of a father and a nonexistent mother. If he’d had a normal childhood without the scrounging and the hiding and the beatings.

He didn’t try and reconnect with anyone he knew from before. What was the point? Svetlana had skipped town for some rich guy, she’d mailed him the divorce papers and they’d finalised it all around the third year or so of his incarceration. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to the kid, not that Mickey particularly minded, but he had been growing somewhat fond of the fucker. His brothers’ still lived at home, but he’d heard from some fellow inmates that his dad was out so he steered clear of his childhood home and any of his dad’s old local haunts. He bounced around dingy motels for the majority of the year, which was a fucking hassle since he had to keep asking his PO to change the radius on his montior, but it out weighed having to go and ask anyone for any favours. He avoided his entire old neighbourhood, willing every single time he got on the L or walked down a busy street that he wouldn’t bump into someone he knew.

Even if he wanted to reconnect with people he didn’t even know where he’d start, it had been 6 full years. It took him for fucking ever to track Mandy down, let alone…

No.

No.

He’s halfway to the store when he stops. He can’t fucking breathe.

What the fuck.

He can’t move, he can’t physically move.

His bones feel like they’ve interlocked in place, sticking together and solidifying him into an ancient statue and he can’t. fucking. move.

Because it’s Ian fucking Gallagher.

Ian Gallagher standing right in front of him.

Ian fucking I don’t love you enough anymore Gallagher.

He’s standing right in front of him on the sidewalk in New York city, right outside a goddamn Duane Reade, hundreds of miles from the Chicago South Side.

What in the fucking fucking fuck?

Mickey could be dreaming, Mickey must be dreaming, because this can’t be fucking real. He’s often seen the ginger boy, man - he corrects himself, in his dreams over the last few years. He’s always appeared as a shadowy figure or even as a whimsical idea echoing in his subconsciousness but this is way too realistic.

He’s here, he’s here standing right in front of him in the living and breathing human bodied flesh.

Yet he’s still the exact same tall, red headed guy that a teenage Mickey fell for over a decade ago and it’s like being bitch slapped by a bus, full force and full of impact. Ian hasn’t seen him yet, he’s talking into his phone, laughing at something that’s been said and Mickey’s heart hurts. It’s been over nine years since he saw Ian laugh like that. His hands start to shake and his breath picks up in short, small uncontrollable bursts. There must be somewhere he can go and duck into. He checks the distance to the entrance to the Duane Reade, wondering if he could chance it before the other man notices.

He should turn around, groceries be damned, he should go right the fuck now before Ian see’s him and-

‘Mickey?’

Oh, fuck. Even his voice is exactly the same. God, Mickey has waited 9 years to hear that voice again but right now all he can hear is rushing wind in his ears, his entire world turned on its axis.

Is everyone around him moving in slow motion or is it just him?

He looks up and Ian is staring at him with a wide eyed, what the fuck is going on, expression on his face. Yeah, Mickey would like to know too, if only he could get his fucking breathing under control.

‘Mickey?’ He repeats without moving closer, the phone call hangs abandoned in his right hand. He wonders who from his past is on the other end of the line, Lip? Fiona? Perhaps a new boyfriend? Husband, even?

‘Hi.’ Mickey breathes out harshly, panic rising up slowly in his throat. He still can’t move.

This is a dream, this is a fucked up dream.

‘What, what are you- you’re out?’ Ian asks, finally breaking the barrier between them and moving a step closer. His face is practically the same as he looked the last time Mickey saw him, but it’s been clear the time that has passed. He’s lost even more of the baby face he once possessed, his jaw now sharp and precise. His eyes are bright and alive, worlds apart from the dead and sunken look Mickey recalls from their last interaction - the one where Ian had told him he’d wait and never fucking visited him again.

‘Fuck you doing here, Gallagher?’ He hears himself blurt out shakily and he barely even realises he said it, only noticing Ian’s eyebrows furrowing together in a response. He looks so confused and concerned but also somewhat hurt and Mickey wants to. fucking. bolt.

All he wanted was some god damn eggs but instead he gets sucker punched by history and the feeling he’s about to spew his guts out onto the sidewalk.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ Ian replies, dumbfounded. Someone shoulders grumpily past Mickey and he’s suddenly pulled back to the fact they’re standing, staring at each other in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

‘Fuck you, watch yourself asshole!’ He calls after the guy in the classic New York fashion he’s managed to perfect in the last few months, he’s getting quite good at blending in. People continue to shove passive aggressively past them, though neither men move. ‘Been here almost a year.’ He says without bringing his gaze back to Ian, staring just over his shoulder at the busy traffic.

‘What? You’ve been out for a year?’ Ian’s ask incredulously, bringing Mickey back to the shocked expression on his face. It’s almost as if he never even considered the possibility that Mickey might’ve made parole early instead of sitting his full sentence. Behind the confusion there’s a small smile playing on his lips, it reminds Mickey too much of those days and it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

How is it still hurting after 9 years?

‘Almost three.’ Mickey replies, his attempt at nonchalance hardened by the bitter taste flooding his mouth. He feels like he’s about to choke, he has to get out of here. ‘Listen, I gotta go-’

‘Mickey, I-’ Ian interrupts, stepping a foot closer to him. His arm is raised in front of him in a way that looks like he’s going to try and touch him or hug him or something-

Mickey spins on his heel and gets the fuck out of dodge.

Groceries forgotten, Mickey practically sprints back to his apartment, the streets a blur around him as he shoulders through. He takes the four sets of stairs two at a time, not letting himself register the sharp ragged tightness in his chest until he gets to his front door.

His hands fumble as he pulls the keys out from his pocket, but somehow he manages to steady himself enough to let himself into his apartment. He slams the door behind him and slumps immediately down to the floor, his back against the wood as he tries, unsuccessfully, to steady his breathing.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck.

What on fucking God’s green earth is Ian doing here?

Here.

Here in this world that Mickey has so painstakingly created for himself, for him and Mandy. A world that is hundreds of miles away from Chicago, from the South Side, from them. From the porch steps where Ian stood blankly, rejecting Mickey’s heart and crushing it in his hands. Hundreds of miles away from the Kash and Grab where they’d fuck in the back room but laugh out front, from his broken childhood home that was made just that little brighter by Ian’s laughter, from the prison he sat in for 6 fucking years doing time for Ian fucking Gallagher.

Mickey’s hands are shaking, the tattoos on his knuckles blur as he shoves them underneath his thighs in an attempt to get something under control and closes his eyes. He breathes slowly, his stomach nauseous, his rabid hunger from an hour earlier long forgotten. He doesn’t think he could eat anything for another week.

There’s a quiet, hesitant knock on his apartment door, a foot or so above Mickey’s resting head.

‘Mickey?’

It’s Ian again, Jesus, he must’ve followed him here. He curses the fact that the main door downstairs is broken so any random fucker can walk in. He’s told their landlord so many times to get it fixed, and God he should’ve done it himself because he really could’ve used a proper lock right about now.

‘What do you want?’ Mickey grunts out, pulling himself off the floor to grab the pack of smokes sitting on the small table by the door. His hands shake as he pulls out a cigarette and it falls to the floor, fuck.

‘Mickey.’ Ian’s voice persists, and Mickey rolls his eyes because the kid was never good at getting the message of go the fuck away. His stomach jolts at the thought of that persistent teenage ginger freckled freak that buried himself under Mickey’s skin and tattooed himself there when they were just kids. He remembers 16 year old Ian’s earnest way of looking at him like he held the world in his hands, following him around and slipping into Mickey’s life almost seamlessly. He remembers the feeling of agony he felt every single day, sitting in that cell and willing to turn back time and change things. Mickey registers something flowing through him, something fiery and hot, it’s anger. He feels it swarm from his fingertips all the way down to his toes, it pushes him forward. He swings around, unlocks the door and stares at the man standing in front of him.

‘What the fuck do you want?’ He spits, years and years of pent up disappointment and heartbreak coursing fiercely through his veins and he feels like he’s about to explode. This isn’t how he used to imagine seeing Ian again would be, he always imagined warmth and floating and butterflies in his fucking stomach. He imagined kisses and tears and I love yous.

He stopped imaging seeing Ian again around the 4 year mark. 6 years of sitting in a prison, waiting, changes people.  

And yet, everything feels the same. His heart still fucking pounds in the same way and his knees feel like they’re about to give out at the sight of those eyes and that ginger hair.

‘It’s you.’ Ian breathes, the surprised expression slipping away from his adult and aged features revealing the same kid he’s always been, ‘It’s you, here.’

‘Yeah no fuckin’ shit Sherlock Holmes.’ he snaps, patting his pockets to find a lighter in an attempt to give his hands something to do other than shake. Fuck, he must’ve left it inside.

‘I didn’t know you were out-’ Ian starts awkwardly, almost as if he doesn’t know what to do now that he actually has Mickey in front of him, like the bastard didn’t follow him up here and practically demand his audience.

‘Are we really going to do the fucking sentimentalities?’ It comes out way more breathy and defeated than Mickey would’ve liked but he’s tired, overwhelmed and really just wants a smoke. They stare at each other, it’s awkward and clunky and full of history. ‘Like, how's the fucking weather been? Really?’

‘No, I just- you look good.’ Ian offers quietly, his eyes flickering down, following Mickey’s entire body to the floor. It should feel good, getting checked out, but it doesn’t.

‘Not a lot to do in prison other than work out.’ Mickey says firmly, puffing his chest out slightly. He doesn’t miss the way Ian’s shoulders slump as a response at the mention of his incarceration.

Good.

Truthfully, other than his heart hurting every minute of everyday, the majority of prison feels like a blur to him now. It was hours of working out, fucking and volunteering in the canteen, the library, the yard. Anything to keep his mind off of things. He’s managed to keep up with the working out though, regularly running around the top end of central park and he sometimes gets one on one boxing lessons from a guy down the road. It feels good, he feels strong. Ian was always the strong one between the two of them - not any more.

‘How ya been?’ Ian asks casually as if it’s only been weeks and not years, the ease at which he says it slaps Mickey, it stings.

‘Oh real fuckin’ fine and dandy.’ Mickey replies harshly and Ian’s eyebrows drop, his forehead creased by the words that hang unspoken. Mickey can feel a heavy scowl form on his face, it hurts with the intensity he’s holding it.

‘We could, uh, go for a beer? and talk, maybe?’ Ian presses earnestly, somewhat testing the waters. Mickey can’t help but bark out a laugh. Nine years of fucking silence and the guy wants to go for a beer. His stomach churns and he feels like he’s going to vomit. He stares at him, his silent answer glaringly obvious. Ian’s eyes fall, they’re heavy and sad and they’re burning right into Mickey’s skin. He shakes his head, exhausted by it all and goes to close the door, but Ian steps forward sharply and grabs the handle.

‘Don’t- Mick, please.’

The nickname stabs Mickey in the gut. He can’t do this.

‘Really, Ian?’ Mickey asks in disbelief, ‘Nine fucking years of nothing and you want to go for a beer-’

‘I know that-’ Ian tries but Mickey keeps barrelling through.

‘Act like I never went to prison for your ass?’ Mickey fires back sharply, unable to hold it all back, ‘And you never fucking visited me? Not once after that first time- six years I sat there like a bitch and nothing.’

Mickey’s breathing is ragged, his chest heaving. He's angry, he's so fucking angry.  

Ian’s face crumbles. He resigns and releases his hand from where he’d been holding the door open and steps back cautiously, shame hangs in the air between them.

‘I just want to talk to you.’ Ian says softly, his eyes serious but desperate. There’s a glimmer of wetness in them that makes Mickey want to both scream and take him into his arms. They’re the same green eyes Mickey filled into the 'IAN GALLAGHER' filing cabinet and locked away in the back of his mind - he doesn’t think he’s even slept with someone with green eyes since Ian. He’s fucked a lot of gingers over the years, a lot more than he would ever probably admit, but those eyes? They’re something you can’t just replicate.

Fuck those sad eyes, he thinks, you don’t get to be sad.

You don’t get to be sad when you are the one that did this.

‘We had six years to talk.’ Mickey bites back venomously, he’s not sure where this surge of confidence came from but he’s grabbing it by the reins and riding it out.

‘I know, I-’ Ian steps forward, his hands raised up as a peace offering. Mickey wants to push them far away but also grab them by the wrist and never let him go. His head hurts, he’s confused. He wants to throw up.

‘Ian?’ A voice calls out from down the hall, slicing through the red hot tension between the two men. Mickey breathes out heavily and glances down the hall at his younger sister.

Fantastic, just what he needs. He braces himself.

‘Ian!’ Mandy all but squeals, throwing her arms around him happily, her skinny arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. He lifts her off the ground easily for a moment before dropping her back on her feet. God, they're like a bunch of school kids. Mickey shifts his weight from foot to foot awkwardly, not knowing where to put himself between the two old friends, and ultimately, he just wants to leave.

‘It’s so good to see you, Mandy.’ Ian says quietly, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile, his eyes then shift plainly over to Mickey. He looks away sharply.

Mandy steps back, throwing a slow glance between the two of them, Mickey standing in the doorway, eyes down, and Ian a few feet back. The atmosphere shifts as her slow realisation sets in.

It’s an echo of a moment all those years ago, Mandy standing in the doorway just before Mickey’s disastrous marriage to Svetlana after Ian had begged him not to go through with it.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ She asks awkwardly, and Mickey wishes his sister could just read the fucking room for once.

‘Uhhh…’ Ian begins, clearly unsure where to start but Mickey rolls his eyes because fuck this.

‘No, you’re not.’ He grunts, turning around quickly and slamming the door on the two of them - despite knowing fully well that Mandy has her own key and Ian could walk right in there anyway.

He stomps into the kitchen and paces, the filing cabinet deep in the back of his brain marked ‘IAN GALLAGHER’ breaks open like Pandora's box and decade old memories he’s tried so hard the last few years to lock up come flooding out. They fall out onto the kitchen floor and Mickey feels like he’s drowning.

I love you. What the hell does that even mean?

Shut up.

Don’t. Don’t what? Just…

Shut up.

You love me and you’re gay.

Shut up.

Ian what you and I have, makes me free.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. He slams his fist into the wall, pain coursing through his knuckles and up his arm. It does nothing to relieve his anxiety, only leaving him with an inch dent in the wall he’s going to have to fork out for at some point. He can’t bring himself to care.

He pulls the fridge door open and reaches to the back for a knocked over beer. He opens it deftly and chugs it in one. It’s bitter as it goes down and does nothing to suppress the swarming unwanted thoughts.

Chugging beer in the dugouts, covered in blood, breathless. Kissing. Fucking. The taste of beer and blood and sweat lingering on each other’s lips.

‘Fuck.’ He mutters, he can’t even have a fucking drink in peace without his brain reminding him and reminding him and reminding him.

Reminding him that if Ian walked in right now, heart and arms open, Mickey would probably fall into them willingly, years worth of heartbreak be damned.

Fuck, he thought he was done with this. He’s worked so fucking hard at being done with this, but apparently, Ian Gallagher is allowed to just walk back into his life - without notice - and set fire to years of his progress.

He reaches for the fridge door and has his hand wrapped around his next beer when Mandy comes storming in, knocking it from his grip. It clatters to the floor, spinning slowly to a stop below the sink.

‘You’re a fuckin’ rude asshole, you know that?’ She spits, her face twisted and ugly.

‘Fuck off.’ He fires back, once again going to open the fridge without bothering to pick up the fallen can off the linoleum. He just wants to get fucking drunk and forget, but of course, Mickey’s not one to usually get what he wants. Mandy’s hand slams the fridge shut before Mickey can even inch it open.

‘You haven’t seen the guy in years, you could at least be fuckin’ nice.’

‘Can’t a guy have a fuckin’ beer in his own home?’ Mickey snorts, feigning nonchalance but fooling neither of them. He steps out of her glare and bends down to collect the fallen can. It’s gonna be a bitch to open, but clearly access is denied to the fridge right now. He needs another drink.

‘No wonder he fucking dropped your ass as soon as you got locked up.’

He stops. Mickey feels like he’s been slapped.

One hand grips the can and the other balls instinctively into a fist. He stares down at the floor, he can’t move, panic and anger and sadness all flare up in his chest, like broken fireworks spitting out against a dark sky. He was brought up to never use violence against women, but fuck, this is the first time in his life he feels like punching, slapping, or doing something to his sister. Making her feel even an ounce of the agony he’s dealt with for the best part of a decade.  He won’t, but his hands are shaking, his breath is rising up his throat and he wants to scream.

He doesn’t. He stays there, halfway bent down to the floor, staring at his shaking white knuckles wrapped around the Bud light in his left hand.

‘Fuck you.’ He grunts without looking up. Mandy scoffs and turns away, padding slowly into her room. Her door slams shut and Mickey’s knees buckle to the floor.

He lies on the dirty kitchen floor and breathes.

[cryinggarbagebag]

Hello Again (Sirius Blacks Daughter)

Requested by my friend at school :)

Warnings: crying, abandonment, profanity, denial the works :))

if i missed any pls let me know!

also if you would like to be added to my tags list let me know!

outfit suggestion ^^

.-.

something felt off about tonight and it wasn't for any ordinary reason, not because Dumbledore had asked for me to be at this Order meeting, it was because I found myself standing in front of my first home from before my father was incarcerated, and before I had been accepted into Hogwarts. I only assume that this has something to do with him. I had heard noise about Sirius Black being on the loose earlier this school year, and that caused everyone, and I mean everyone, to think I was hiding him or some shit. it eventually lead to me getting in a couple fights, some physical, and my uncle making the decision of letting me end the school year at home. I was greatful but also pissed off because I was always winning. I guess the med wing couldn't take as many kids as I was sending them. I'm a little aggressive but those fuckers deserved it for disrespecting my father like that! although I only met him as a baby (I was 4 when he was put into Azkaban), I feel like I have known him all my life. it could be through Uncle Remus' story telling, or the twinkle in any of my teachers eyes whenever they spoke of him, I think it's because of a bond only found in someone you truly love. like when Uncle Remus was having a stressful day at the school and I sent him chocolates by owl without him telling me first.

but anyways, the house was eerily familiar, and I subconsciously tucked my short black hair behind my ear nervously. Harry would also be arriving tonight but later on. the Weasleys were also staying there along with Hermione. I smiled at the thought of seeing my friends again as I knocked on the door. we had to use a specific pattern every time so that no death eaters or muggles could get in. I saw the door unlock and it slowly turned open to reveal Tonks. she had a thing for my uncle I guess... good for her.

"y/n! whatsit!"

"hi" I said as she enveloped me in a hug.

"might have to steal your jacket, it's nice" she complimented.

"maybe I'll loan it to you" I winked and made my way inside.

"everyone's in the kitchen" she said and grabbed my arm, "he's in there" she said quieter.

"who?" I asked with concern.

"Sirius. he's anxious to meet you" she said.

"oh" I replied, suddenly getting a strange wave of anxiety as well.

"are you ready?" she asked.

I swallowed thickly, "i- Tonks what if he abandons me again. I know it's not his fault but-"

"y/n don't worry. he loves you and he promised to never leave you again." she said reassuringly and pet my hair. "now, shoulders back, head high, you've got to show him that you truly are his spawn" she joked.

"don't say it like that" I said with a giggle.

"there we go, that's the carefree y/n I know. are you ready now?"

I looked at the door and took a deep breath before nodding. she lead me to it and pushed lightly on the oak wood. there was a long table, with people sitting around it, most of them were my friends, but at the far end was a man who looked just like me only older and with a beard. I froze. I couldn't think, it was too much, but it was too late to turn back.

I noticed uncle remus standing next to him, a timid smile on his face. it was silent, as if everyone had noticed the tension in the room. but then I looked at the ground and reminded myself that I am the daughter of Sirius Black, and I have to fit the role. I do fit the role.

so I cleared my throat, threw on a smirk and said "well, hello again" with as much confidence as I could muster.

when he didn't say anything Uncle Remus nudged him with his elbow as to say 'go on'.

he snapped back to reality and made his way around the table, standing a few feet away from me. he had tears in his eyes, not many but enough for me to know he cared.

"y/n" he started as Molly ushered the twins out of the room. once they were gone it was just me, Uncle Remus, Tonks and my father.

"y/n" he begun again, "my god you've grown. look at you. I feel so old now" he joked lightly, taking in my appearance.

I gave a grumbly laugh that barely made it out of my throat as I realized I was holding back tears too. it was harder to keep them to myself when I realized just how much I had missed him.

"sorry can I just-" I started and rose my arms in a hugging position. he didn't hesitate to bring me into a strong embrace. it was like a part of me that was lost had finally been found. the last puzzle piece had been put into place and I was complete. I let the tears fall then, and I could tell he did too.

once our cry fest was over I lightly pulled away, he heald me at an arms length and really examined my features.

"you're gorgeous just like your mother" he mumbled to himself rather than me.

I smiled wearily and looked down at my scarred knuckles, "so I've been told. they also say I'm your clone."

"I can see why. Remus said you've been getting into trouble lately" he smirked.

"only to defend my last name". I looked up at him and smiled.

"ah that's my girl" he said louder this time, and pride shown in his face. I felt a sense of warmth wash through my body and it was unlike anything I felt before.

"we'll let you two catch up" Uncle Remus said with a smile, putting his arm around Tonks and leading her out of the room. I watched them go before sitting in the seat next to me, Sirius following my lead.

"so, y/n.. tell me everything"

and so I did. I told him about my friends, about my school life, about everything and he listened with genuine interest. I told him about how the other people at school soiled our name, and how I had to leave because of it. he just smiled and laughed it off.

once I had given him my life's story, and everything had died down he leaned forward in his chair and took my hands

"y/n, I know I haven't been there for you, all your special moments and such but I hope you can accept me as your father. I don't ever want to leave you again like I did. I felt horrible for that. I'm hoping now that we can have the life I always wanted for us. me you and Remus that is."

"oh dad, don't feel bad. I know about everything. nothing was ever your fault. what's important is that you're here now."

"thank you" he said and pulled away, "now I'm sure you want to catch up with your friends, I won't keep you waiting" Sirius smiled.

[elusive---ivory]

Little Clown pt 1

Yes, yes, yes oh, boy. Here we are!! The Sequel to TWIV. It took me a while to finish this first part, hopefully y'all enjoy it 💖💖

PAIRING: Arthur Fleck x Oc/Joker x Oc

WARNING: Unrequited Love, Child Endangerment

Part 1

Taglist:

@gloomyladyy @princessgeekface @memory-mortis (ps I apologize if I left some people out. Just message me again if I forgot)

"Mommy, I don't want a clown at my birthday party." A little girl said, troubled.

"I know, sweetheart, but clowns aren't so scary. Could you please try for me?" Her mother said, holding her hand.

It was 1993 in Gotham City. It had been 12 years since the incarceration of The Joker. Chaos was still rapid in Gotham, but the police didn't seem to care.

Sandy Fleck was one of Gotham's notorious villains, who rose to the top in popularity. Half her popularity came from followers of The Joker, hoping to seek guidance from her. The other half came from the angry mob of Gotham City, who were still hurt by the damage. For those who knew her on the streets, She was known as Dolly. She had the city tight around her finger. The only thing she was missing was Arthur.

Her daughter looked up at her. "I'm not afraid of clowns, Mommy. I just don't like them. The news doesn't like them, so why should I?" The little girl frowned. Her green emerald eyes were staring into Sandy.

"Ruthie, not everything on the news is trustworthy. Besides, I'm pretty sure your will love it." Sandy said.

"What friends, Mommy?" Ruth replied, monotonous.

Ruth Quinn Fleck wasn't like most kids her age. She was very smart, but not so sociable young girl. From the age of 5, Ruth was diagnosed by a medical professional that she had Asperger's Syndrome. Her doctors were still confused about Ruth's behavior, hoping that maybe by the time she was 8, Ruth could grow out of it. Ruth was nearing the age of 10, with her birthday being a couple days away.

The two crossed the crowded street. Ruth held onto her mother closely, as they walked into their small, yet, comfortable apartment complex.

Sandy didn't move from the old apartment complex. After all that happened, she decided that the best place for her little girl was the complex. Sure, it was an awful complex, but there was something about it that felt so warm and familiar.

As they walked up to their apartment, Sandy walked past a certain apartment door, flooding memories of someone she missed.

Sandy unlocked her apartment door, placing the groceries on the kitchen counter.

Ruth took a small juice box from the fridge, and darted for the living room. Ruth turned the TV on, and switched it to the news.

Sandy giggled to herself. "Why do you only watch the news?"

"I dunno. I like the news. It's interesting." Ruth sipped on her juice box.

Sandy smiled, washing her hands in the kitchen sink and preparing dinner.

"Twelve years ago to this day, Thomas Wayne was killed outside the Monarch Theater. In remembrance of him, we've gathered here at the theater with the young Bruce Wayne, Boy Billionaire over night."

Sandy rolled her eyes. "Ruthie, don't watch this crap. All they talk about is Bruce Wayne."

"Not all the time. They also talk about Joker." Ruth replied.

Dishes clanked in the sink, causing Sandy to break a mug, cutting her finger.

"Ruth. We don't talk about Joker, okay?" Sandy said through her teeth.

"Why not?" Ruth inquired.

"Because," Sandy rose her voice, then closed her eyes before calming down. "Because, I said so." Sandy spoke softly.

Ruth looked down at the floor. "I didn't mean to upset you, Mommy."

Sandy rubbed her temples in frustration. "I know, baby. I know."

The telephone rang on the kitchen counter. Sandy rushed over to get it.

"Hello?" Sandy answered.

"Hey, Dolly. We got ourselves another client. Do ya think you can meet us downtown at 5 o'clock?" A gruff voice said over the phone.

"I'll see, Rudy. Where is the meeting at?" Sandy turned towards her daughter, who was focused on the TV.

"Roxy's Cabaret. Our client also said he wanted to met Joker in person." Rudy explained.

"Well, he's gonna be surprised. Joker is still incarcerated, remember?" Sandy replied.

"Dolly, my hands are tied here. It was the only fib I could use to get him to see us. Anyway, do you wanna take the job or not?" Rudy said, impatiently.

"You haven't even told me the job, yet." Sandy scoffed.

"Look, I don't got time for this, Dolly. Just be here by 5 o'clock." Rudy hung up the phone.

"Who does that lowlife fucker think he is?" Sandy grumbled to herself.

As it was nearing 5, Sandy did her makeup in a small vanity mirror.

"Mommy, do you really have to go?" Ruth said, standing in the doorway of her mother's bedroom.

Sandy sighed, putting on a strapless dress. "Yes, sweetheart."

Ruth looked up at her mother, disappointed, but her lack of emotion on her face couldn't show it.

"Sugar, I know you're upset, but I swear I'll be home by 11. Please don't do what you did with the last babysitter." Sandy finished the rest of her clown like makeup.

Ruth still kept her disappointed eyes on Sandy.

She heard a knock on the door. "Could you get that, sweetheart?"

Ruth huffed nodding.

A tall blonde woman in her twenties appeared that the door. "Hiya! Is ya mommy home?" The woman smiled, cheerfully.

Ruth glared and nodded.

"Well, aren't ya gonna invite me in?" The woman asked.

"I don't like you." Ruth said, still glaring at the woman.

The women's cheerful demeanor disappeared completely. "Maybe I don't like you either."

Sandy headed towards the door. "Hi. Thank you so much for coming. I was worried that I was going to have to leave her alone." She sighed in relief.

The woman brought up her false happy demeanor again. "No problem. I'm Harley. Very nice to meet ya."

"Sandy. It's a pleasure. Emergency contacts are on the fridge. She needs to be in bed before 8." Sandy kneeled down to Ruth's level. "Promise me, you'll be good."

"I promise, Mommy." Ruth kissed her mother on her forehead.

"I love you. I'll be back." Sandy walked out the door, putting on her coat, heading to the elevator.

Ruth turned on the TV, turning up the news.

"Does ya mother always looks like a circus act or does she have some type of gig?" Harley asked, rummaging through the fridge.

Ruth didn't answer her eyes were glued to the TV.

"Breaking news: Just a few minutes ago all of Arkham's electricity turned off, then back on again, but 10 inmates were reported escaped from the facility, including the most infamous clown, Joker. One female inmate was also released from the scene, most known as Harleen Quinzel. The police have speculated that the two were working together, and helped each other escape. In further new-" Harley unplugged the TV.

Ruth looked up at her, confused.

"That's enough of that. You're mommy's gonna be quite surprised when she gets here. Mr J has been dying to see her again. It's a shame that she's had you, isn't it? Mr. J isn't gonna be so thrilled to see you up and about." Harley sneered.

Ruth turned towards her. "I hate you. You're mean."

Harley stuck her tongue out. "That makes two of us. Now, Mr. J told me to call him once I got her and I said I would so, beat it."

Ruth grabbed Harley by waist and tackled her to the ground.

"Get the hell off me, twerp." Harley yelled, throwing Ruth around.

Harley threw Ruth to the ground. "Now, listen here, you little shit. I told Joker I wouldn't hurt you, but I'm sure he'll make an exception." Harley pulled a small dagger out of her pocket. She hovered over Ruth, about to lay the knife on her.

A man in a red suit and clown makeup walked through the door. He pulled Harley off of Ruth.

"Mr. J, I'm sorry. She wasn't cooperating with me, so I did what I had to do." Harley said, feigning her innocence.

The man glared at her. "Leave, Harley."

"What?" Harley spoke quietly.

"I said, Leave. I don't need you anymore. I found what I've been looking for." The man said, looking over at the little girl who had no expression on her face.

"But, Mr. J, I thought we-" Harley was cut off by a laugh.

"We what? What did you possibly think we were? I told you our deal was simple. I helped you out of Arkham, then you were to help me find Sandy. You helped me, and I helped you. I've had enough of your services." The man turned over to Ruth.

Harley glared at Joker, then bolted out of the apartment.

Ruth got up and looked up at the man. "You're the Joker, aren't you?"

The man chuckled. "I wasn't always called Joker. My real name is Arthur."

"My name is Ruth." Her emerald eyes were the same as Arthur's as they stared at each other.

"That's a nice name. Who's your dad?" Arthur asked, kneeling down to her level.

"I never had a daddy. My mommy says that my daddy was a kind man, until he changed." Ruth looked away from him.

Arthur frowned. "I understand how you feel. I never knew my dad. My mother lied to me for all my life. Your mother taught me things I could never forget. Where is your mother now?"

"She's at work." Ruth yawned, rubbing her eyes.

Arthur smiled slightly. "Someone's tired." He picked Ruth up in his arms, and carried her to her bedroom.

"I like you, Joker, unlike the news." Ruth said, half asleep.

Arthur smiled, placing the small girl in her bed.

[napoleoninrags]

President Barabbas

The mob chose a mobster. Elections have consequences.

by Greg Olear

"Easter is a very special day for me ... Easter Sunday, and you'll have packed churches all over our country.” —Donald John Trump, 24 March 2020

I WAS RAISED Catholic, which meant that every Sunday, come hell or high water, we went to church. The Catholic Mass is extremely rote. There’s a lot of call-and-response, a lot of standing up and sitting down, a lot of the same material, repeated over and over and over again. The Apostles’ Creed, for example, has been recited at Mass, in much the same way, since it was codified at the Council of Nicaea during the reign of Constantine the Great, a mere 17 centuries ago.

The best day of the liturgical year, in my recollection, was Palm Sunday. The priest always shared the same story: Pontius Pilate, the Roman prefect, appeared before his subjects in Jerusalem on the occasion of Passover, and agreed to free a single Jewish prisoner. The mob had to choose: should Pilate free Jesus, the alleged “King of the Jews,” or Barabbas, a notorious criminal? Whereupon we, role-playing in the pews, would cry, WE WANT BARABBAS! My brother and I shouted with gusto, to my mother’s extreme annoyance: WE WANT BARABBAS! And so the killer was set free, and Christ condemned to die.

I didn’t know at the time that this passage, perpetuating as it does the “Jews killed Jesus” myth, was used for centuries by anti-Semites to justify their despicable deeds. I never interpreted it that way. To me, the story is about how mobs, led as they are by riled-up morons, can easily be fooled and manipulated into voting against their best interests.

The 2016 election is a recent example of how the angry masses, presented with a clear choice of good guy versus bad guy, chose unwisely. It’s not fair to either party to compare Hillary Clinton with Jesus Christ, and Pontius Pilate did not use the Electoral College system in determining whom to pardon, but notorious criminal Donald John Trump is absolutely President Barabbas. The mob went with the mobster.

Three years into the Trump Administration, and a shocking number of the president’s associates are either in prison, about to head to prison, under indictment, or under investigation. There is Paul Manafort, Trump’s campaign chair, currently incarcerated. There is Michael Cohen, Trump’s longtime personal attorney, fixer, and bagman: ditto. There is the treacherous Michael Flynn, awaiting his sentence (or, perhaps, his pardon). There is Trump’s longtime buddy and shadow campaign advisor Roger Stone, soon to toddle off to the hoosegow. There’s also those who have not yet been indicted because of the nefarious machinations of the corrupt Attorney General, William Barr: Rudy Giuliani, Jared Kushner, Mike Pompeo, Mike Pence, Mick Mulvaney, Erik Prince, and Trump’s lousy kids Ivanka, Eric, and Don Junior.

What is remarkable here, aside from the obvious fact that Trump cavorts with an uncanny number of crooks, is that none of these people has flipped. Manafort pretended to, only to ratfuck the FBI. Flynn, too, lied to investigators. Only Cohen gave up some dirt—but how much did he really surrender? The thing is, the rest of these people aren’t nearly as hard. Trump wants to pardon Roger Stone because he knows him well enough to know that he will sing to stay out of the Big House. Jared Kushner, aka Boy Plunder, has done so many illicit things that he will keep FBI agents busy for years; is Mr. Ivanka really not going to flip to avoid prison? And I can’t imagine Don Junior exhibiting the same trollish swagger around Cellblock D.

Trump’s partners in crime are all selfish assholes. They have no real loyalty. Giuliani, for example, loathes Trump with every fiber of his noxious being. He’s only protecting him out of his own self-interest. At some point, to preserve themselves, these fuckers will all turn on each other, and it will be the end of Reservoir Dogs all up in here: a bunch of petty crooks threatening to take each other down.

So why haven’t they?

A big queen sits in the middle of the stalemated chessboard, preventing all movement. The queen’s name is William Barr. He is the titular Attorney General of the United States, but his actual function is to slow-roll the Department of Justice from its takedown of Trump and his co-conspirators. To that end, he holds up witnesses. He stymies evidence from being sent to prosecutors. He cock-blocks US Attorneys, sure as he cock-blocked Mueller. He kicks the can and kicks it again and again and again, hoping to run out the clock. Barr has been so successful that the GOP is not even remotely worried about the bad stuff coming out. He’s gummed up the works so badly that we couldn’t even get witnesses at the fucking impeachment trial.

With a big, fat cork in the bottle of evidence, Trump and his fellow criminals do not have to fear retribution from law enforcement for as long as he stays in office. The only danger now is if they turn on each other. If they respect omertà, they are golden. Thus it is in all of their interests—Trump’s, but also Pence’s, McConnell’s, Pompeo’s, Kushner’s, and so on—to stay the course. These people will do anything, including exacerbate a global health crisis, to not get caught. They don’t care if we die. Repeat: they don’t care if we die. As Mr. White says in Reservoir Dogs: “The choice between doing ten years and taking out some stupid motherfucker, ain’t no choice at all.”

What are they hiding?

In Trump’s case, generations of criminal involvement with the mob—first La Cosa Nostra, later the Russian mafiya. His grandfather was a minor pimp at the dawn of the organized crime era, but Donald’s father, Fred Trump, was, as Lincoln’s Bible tells us, “a businessman front for the Genovese crime family.”

To best understand Fred, just track his rise from single-family home construction to big residential developments. From Shore Haven (1947) to Beach Haven to Trump Village, all were done with known mafia partners, in Genovese-controlled territory, and eventually with a fully Genovese-owned construction company (HRH Construction).

When the Russian mafiya began rolling in, they landed in Fred’s properties and partnered with the Genovese on some big ticket scams. This was also during the time that Fred and his attorney Roy Cohn set up S&A concrete (via Nick Auletta)—a joint venture between Tony Salerno (Genovese boss) and Paul Castellano (Gambino boss), so that donald could build in Manhattan. Remember donald’s quote, “Even my father, he said, you don’t want to go to Manhattan. That’s not our territory?” That’s because Manhattan, for construction, was Gambino territory. They controlled the concrete and unions. And Fred was a very loyal, shrewd front for the Genovese. To get his idiot, greedy kid into Manhattan, Fred and Roy Cohn had to get those two mob bosses to agree on a joint venture.

When the Russian mafiya pushed out the Italian mob after the fall of the Soviet Union, Donald Trump began laundering money for unseemly Vor associates of Semion Mogilevich. The Russians extended him credit when no US bank would touch him, and he remains in their debt—a fact the Mazars and Deutsche Bank documents will reveal, which is why Trump has moved heaven and earth to keep said documents secret.

Because the Russian mafiya works hand in glove with the Russian government, Trump is also, as Hillary Clinton correctly told us four years ago, Putin’s puppet. His ties to Russian intelligence (Putin, remember, is ex-KGB) go back decades. Recruitment of Trump by the KGB began in the Reagan Administration; for all we know, his succession of ex-Soviet-bloc wives better reflect his allegiance to the Soviets than his taste in women. He is also connected to the Russian organized crime via his friend Jeffrey Epstein, a collector of kompromat and money launderer for arms dealers; Epstein’s longtime partner was Ghislaine Maxwell, daughter of Robert Maxwell, the spy and former business partner of, yes, Semion Mogilevich.

Trump’s underworld ties were all there in 2016, barely below the surface, for all the world to see. Wayne Barrett wrote about them for the Village Voice. Robert Friedman alluded to them in Red Mafiya. Craig Unger covers them closely in House of Trump, House of Putin. The mainstream media knew damned well what the guy really was, but chose to equate Trump’s years of actual mobbed-up crimes with HRC’s email server. The result? Every half-wit Fox News watcher proclaims, with a straight face, that Hillary, not Donald, is the crook!

Truth: Trump is a notorious criminal, a serial rapist and sexual assailant, wholly owned by the mob, controlled by the underworld and the Kremlin. He is a latter-day Barabbas—and because of the whims of a riled-up mob, he’s now, somehow, the President of the United States. Make no mistake: If he thinks it will help him avoid prosecution, he will order the churches open for Easter without qualm or hesitation. In his calculus, Jesus gave up His life for us, so we should give up our lives for Trump. He will happily pervert the holiest of Christian holy days to get what he wants. To this monster, nothing is sacred..

[c-bassmeow]

Literally just vote Biden he has experience and has Obamas back

That mother fucker has dementia like he legit didn’t even remember the name of his website at the end of last nights debate no thank you to him and his mass incarceration ass

[truthbeetoldmedia]

Mayans MC 2x10 “Hunahpu” Review

I would just like to start this piece off by congratulating the cast and crew of Mayans MC on being renewed for a third season! With the Kurt Sutter-shaped elephant in the room, fans and the people involved were all left wondering what was going to become of this series? Would the Season 2 finale be a series finale or could it be renewed? Well good news, all! Shortly before the finale aired, the news broke of the renewal and we all jumped for joy! (At the very least, I certainly did!)

I thoroughly enjoyed the finale! It hit points I didn’t think there would even be time to delve into. Almost all my questions and concerns were met. I definitely feel comfortable with where the story will be going into Season 3! 

Most of the trailer for the finale seemed to be focused on the impending war between the Mayans MC Santo Padre chapter and the Vatos Malditos due to Riz succumbing to wounds inflicted by the latter club. What isn’t known though is that Taza messed with Riz’s life support and that’s ultimately what made Riz pass away. It isn’t exactly known why he did so yet. Taza has a hidden history with the Vatos Malditos and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s wanted war with them for years. Bishop has a meeting with other charters to try and remain on course for the gun deal with the Vatos Malditos and the Sons of Anarchy. They all need the gun deal to work out because there’s a lot of money on the line. At the expense of Coco’s feelings and Riz, Bishop remains on course with the deal. 

However, that’s only actually in the eyes of the other charters and the Sons. Bishop actually firmly believes this is a Santo Padre issue and they have every reason to retaliate. The President of the Vatos Malditos is scheduled to attend his grandmother’s birthday party. The plan is for the Mayans to sneak attack and slaughter them all, especially the Prez. We see the President and his grandmother had been hiding for what appears to have been the majority of the party because they knew there would be retaliation. 

Dita Galindo has been majorly depressed all season. Miguel and Emily were trying their hardest to get her help, but ultimately, they weren’t all that engaged with Dita. Emily knew Dita saw Felipe instead of the shrink every time she had an “appointment”, but she still didn’t actually know what was going on with her, emotionally and mentally. Miguel was even worse. He loves his family and has proven he would fight for them, but he’s also a busy man on both sides of the border. Unfortunately, that means the people closest to him often do get pushed to the wayside.  

Felipe knows Dita had Marisol killed and also had put a hit out on Felipe too. EZ and Angel want revenge and, ultimately, Dita wants to die. The fire that left her permanently scarred and in pain was her first chance at death. She wanted it then and she still wants it now. EZ offers to be the one to end her life. Dita says a prayer and they’re all emotional. EZ’s been waiting for this moment since he first walked in and saw his mother’s dead body on the butcher shop floor. He choked Dita to death with his bare hands and then Angel joined in on burning the body. Dita had left notes for Emily and Miguel, so it would look like a suicide and they wouldn’t go looking for the killer.

At the end of the episode, Miguel is about ready to send all his guys out to search for Dita, because she took off in one of the cars when she went out to her appointment (when she was actually going to meet the Reyes men). Emily found the note and together they went to go find her body because it was too late. Miguel looked like an empty shell, while Emily showed more emotion in that one scene than she has since Cristobal was returned to her in Season 1. 

Honestly? I had been waiting for Dita to die. The fact that the writers added in an old love affair between her and Felipe was just tiring and too convenient in my eyes. It makes me wonder if that was the plan from the very beginning. Dita was an absolute snake and, at the end of the day, that was all she was good for. 

One major concern I had was about Potter being pushed to the side for the latter half of this season and how exactly he was going to make a big comeback in the story. I definitely wasn’t disappointed! Miguel, Emily, and then EZ and the Reyes family found out about Potter and his technically illegal relationship he had with a witness in an investigation in Mexico that resulted in the birth of a son. Emily knew Miguel wanted to use that information to help out Adelita, but when EZ informed her that Potter was threatening to deport Felipe, she gave him the intel to help out his father instead. 

EZ and Angel had to actually decide what they were going to do because Angel also has Adelita and HIS OWN CHILD to think of in this scenario. Ultimately, he knows Adelita would probably tell him to leave her behind, just like she did when he tried to save her in the desert. You can really see the love and admiration he has for her because he’s still respecting her wishes. He knows she’s strong and because she’s strong, he can be strong too. So all things considered, EZ and Angel decide to use the information to help Felipe. 

EZ and Angel finally meet up with Potter and they confront him with what they know. I have never seen Lincoln Potter look more shaken up than he did in that scene. His Achilles heel was discovered. The Reyes brothers wanted legitimate legal paperwork for, not just Felipe, but their mother too. This isn’t just Potter’s job on the line, but also his son. 

Meanwhile, Adelita has been in a secured facility, in labor. To see her in so much pain, while also handcuffed to the hospital bed? It was completely inhumane. We did get a scene of Adelita snuggling with her newborn. However, that visual was ruined because Potter wanted the baby taken away from her as soon as possible. They had a DNA test done to see if they would find a paternal match in the system, meaning if the father had previously been incarcerated, they would find out who he is. Well, there was a match. They didn’t name Angel, but Potter immediately makes a threat against Angel the same way Angel made the threat against Potter. Potter would make sure both of their sons never found out who either of them were. 

I cannot tell you just how gutted I was to see Angel in anguish over this. I was fortunate enough to meet Clayton Cardenas at Rhode Island Comic Con this year and I managed to tell him my finale predictions that had me emotionally spiraling out of control. My first prediction was that Felipe would get deported and that was debunked, thank goodness! My next prediction was that Potter was going to take the baby away from Angel and Adelita and put them in the system. This fucker had the nerve to LIE to me. He told me it was likely that neither would happen. I mean, technically we know Potter took the baby, but we have no idea what his plans are. This man let me spiral about this theory and then basically told me I didn’t have to worry. I can’t help but laugh! 

One good thing did happen this episode though! EZ got patched in! It was a unanimous vote.  Angel had brought up that this wasn’t the life he wanted for his little brother, but now he can’t imagine having this life without him. The Reyes brothers’ relationship has consistently been my absolute favorite throughout the first two seasons. They had their ups and downs, but they will firmly stand beside each other when shit hits the fan and I find that beautiful!

This was a stellar sophomore season! I feel like the finale would have even made a good series finale, if they hadn’t gotten renewed. All storylines were touched on and we know where the characters stand. There are certainly plenty of questions still left over that should be answered in Season 3, but overall this was a solid finale and an extremely solid season! 

Some thoughts on the episode:

Miguel and Emily are forever hot and cold. One second they seem annoyed with each other and the next they would kill for each other. 

They also didn’t seem that thrilled to be at the event for the Agra park deal.

 Adelita didn’t utter a single word this episode, but I suppose just seeing her will have to tide me over until next season.

 Angel Reyes deserves to be a father to his son, damn it! 

 EZ has a darkness in him that is only getting darker and darker and I’m kind of excited to see where he’ll go next season.

 I hope we’ll get Taza’s backstory next season. I want to know more about his time with Vatos Malditos when he was younger. 

Miguel just looked empty and cold and I’m curious as to where he’s going to go with his mother’s death. 

 Is Miguel ever going to find out Felipe is his real dad?  Are EZ and Angel ever going to find out Miguel is their half-brother?

Marcus saw the motorcycle tracks left at the scene of Dita’s death. I’m wondering if he already knows exactly who was involved. Alvarez isn’t dumb. He’s an extremely intelligent man. 

Mayans MC should be returning to FX in 2020.

Sarah’s episode rating: 5bees

Sarah’s season rating: 4 bees