#it’s depression the gravy basket is depression

[medievill]

(cw// depression, suicide, suicidal ideation)

“you’re afraid you’re unloveable, and you’re too scared to do anything about it” is a goddamn brilliant line because it cuts both ways: you’re too scared to open up and be vulnerable, and you’re too scared to kill yourself.

you’re afraid to live. you’re afraid to die.

welcome to the gravy basket.

[serious-goose]

*stumbles out of ofmd season 2 covered in soup and blood*

[khruschevshoe]

OFMD Critique: Mermen, the Gravy Basket, and Cognitive Dissonance

Warning: this is going to be a bit rambly.

So, I can't stop thinking about the end of "The Innkeeper." (OFMD 2x3, if you need the reminder.) About how I have completely different reactions to the final scene of the episode depending on who's POV/plot I'm considering it a part of.

As part of the Stede/Ed plot, and as part of Ed's personal character arc, it's masterful. The cinematography, the swelling music (and music choice, god is "This Woman's Work" a fantastic pick), the acting, the lighting, everything about it is so well done. It's a story about a man who has hit the absolute bottom of a depressive episode because he believes that love is only meant to hurt, that no love can exist without it dying, and who is pulled from the absolute Darkest Night of the Soul by the man who loves him- in the form of a merman. (I'm not going to harp on the symbolism and the perfection of choosing a mermaid, a rainbow, beautiful, queer-as-hell mermaid, as Stede's form here because others have done it so much better than I ever could.)

This final scene is PERFECT for the Stede/Ed plotline. I will give it all the props in the world for its gorgeous portrayal of the healing, divinely-coded power of queer love.

But from the crew's POV? From the end of a plot that was literally about a man spiralling and taking everyone down with him? From the POV of people who were just forced to shoot themselves, to fight to the death, to amputate limbs, who finally got to stand up to their monster after months of fear, of sobbing when Blackbeard couldn't see, of living on a knife's edge because if they put one toe out of line they'll get shot in the leg or pushed off the ship or worse?

I'm not looking at a man's rebirth; I'm looking at a villain's resurrection.

All I can feel is dread on behalf of a crew that literally just admitted to having been "living second to second" for months now. A crew that was ready to die at Zheng Yi Sao's behest because that's what they had been expecting from the man they just had to kill to survive a storm.

I can't ever fully immerse myself in the scene as I did the first time around, because I know how the crew's subplot is going to go. I know that they are going to vote Ed off the ship, finally gaining some agency, and then Stede is going let Ed back on the ship within a day with a slap on the wrist. Ed is going to give an "influencer apology" and that'll be that, because as Archie says, "they just kinda get away with these things." The crew will get no more agency in their own trauma recovery or their reactions to Blackbeard beyond Lucius' (very questionably handled) trauma recovery arc. This season is going to end with a character dying from a random gunshot wound to the side after Ed survived a CANNONBALL TO THE HEAD. (A character who, by the way, Ed put a gun in the hand of and told him to shoot himself. A man who, by the way, Ed shot in the leg, permanently disabling him. A man who, by the way, dies by apologizing to Ed for Ed tormenting him and the rest of the crew for months on end and driving them to the point that they would kill him.)

I try so hard to remain in the emotions I felt watching the merman scene the first time around, the hope I had for the Ed/Stede storyline, the hope I had for all of these characters. What I thought I was looking at was a sign of hope for all of them, the idea that they could all heal from their trauma, that everyone could experience some version of this love (whether romantic, platonic, or otherwise) for themselves.

But instead, the only other character to get a song died by the end of the season without ever getting a chance at a Gravy Basket of their own. And thus, I cannot ever feel what every possible Cinematic Cue in his scene is trying to get me to feel, because it will always, always be tainted by knowing that every one of those beautiful choices have been denied to Izzy, Jim, Archie, and Frenchie when it comes to their recovery arcs strangled before they could ever be completed.

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Ed Teach, Gods, and Beautiful Things

We don’t know if Ed ever picked flowers as a boy. But if he did, he’d likely be thinking about the potential in owning a florist’s. Because Ed knows it’s not in god’s plan for him to have beauty for beauty’s sake.

Ed chides himself even in the gravy basket: ‘Everything’s got to have an angle for you’. ‘Hornigold’s’ shoes cannot simply exist as beautifully crafted objects. They need to be monetized. Ed continues to wrestle with his demons a long time.

Ed’s worldview is entirely rational for a child who knew hunger; who saw limited food thrown against walls in acts of domestic violence. Told he wasn’t one of those kinds of people. Who killed a brutal father in order to survive. Leaned into himself, trauma-driven.

But Ed’s also an artist. He thinks in metaphor. He cultivates a larger-than-life persona so convincing it smothers him. He can produce an astonishingly creative fuckery. But there’s motive to his art which usually involves pecuniary interest i.e. the plundering of a ship. Cloud-gazing serves a wider purpose. The romance removed from the rainbow. It’s not that Ed can’t see beauty for beauty’s sake; he believes he doesn’t have the right to see the world with such eyes. Nor the luxury. He’s hidden his silk. No time for sensibility with constant threat of storm. Extrinsic value is what matters. Don’t starve is what counts. Such an approach to life, however, is making Ed increasingly ill and world-weary.

Ed’s quest for security, financial and physical, and the extraordinary pantomime he’s built to achieve it, has buried him alive. He’s trapped within a chrysalis. A butterfly with unspread wings. And he’s attracted the fanatical devotion of a self-appointed little god, entirely in thrall to the hyper-masculine performance, who refuses to let the show end. When Ed wobbles after many years, and hints at changing the script, he is rebuked to his crew as increasingly insane and half-mad. He’s neither; but he is, at the very least, utterly depressed and passively suicidal.

When Ed hears of ���The Gentleman Pirate’, and despite the obfuscation of his over-zealous prison-guard, he realises the door to the cell has opened a crack - this is a jailbreak. The chasing down of the Revenge is Ed’s decision to live with meaning, and to live freely. To find beauty in the world for beauty’s sake. To attempt to heal his inner child. To flip his middle finger at the gods…all of them. It’s still trauma-driven, but less strategy, more instinct. That in itself is a beginning.

Ed breaks open the chrysalis and heads for the light.

[ladyluscinia]

Hi there! I just read your meta about how Izzy knows the real Edward and not just Blackbeard, and that got me thinking… why does Ed tell Stede he doesn’t have any friends? I’d initially chalked this up to Izzy only wanting to be friends with Blackbeard, but if Izzy knows and is loyal to the real Ed, why doesn’t Ed consider him a friend?

Hi! You just stumbled on one of my favorite things to talk about that now I get to add S2 context to, so thank you!

Ok... Edward & his total denial of friendship. There's the big reason - which is completely divorced from the reality of any of his relationships - and then there's the smaller, related reason that I'm not even sure Edward is fully aware of.

Reason #1 (the big one) why Edward says he doesn't have any friends is because he's having a depressive breakdown in a bathtub when he says it.

It all comes back to the fact Edward hates himself, which was fairly clear in S1 and now made explicit in S2. Specifically in 2x03. Which, in a season full of excellently timed flashbacks and echoed scenes from S1, still contains the single example that made me leap from my seat in pure vindication.

When Edward tackles his conjured Hornigold to kill him, before he realizes he's in the gravy basket, we great a great line...

"It all boils down to this. You're afraid you're unlovable."

...followed by a set a flashbacks that feel chosen specifically for me 😌

Edward killing his dad, with the voiceover "I'm not a good person Stede..." cut to Izzy's destroyed laugh right before Edward left the room in 2x02, and then cut back to the bathtub from 1x06 to finish "...That's why I don't have any friends." Stede affirms he is Edward's friend and then it ends on the crew's mutiny from 2x02 and the absolute darkest point of Edward's depressive spirals so far.

That is literally an explicit connection I couldn't have dreamed of in the S1 hiatus.

Because, like... Edward's whole thing is that he's been on the edge of drowning under this lifelong struggle against depression since we met him. He does fundamentally believe in his darkest moments that he is monstrous and poisonous and no one could ever love him, but it's not a logical belief. He's not making an assessment of his relationships as he sees them, he's voicing his self-loathing and depression.

And the parallel between "I don't have any friends" and "I'm unlovable" is soooo crunchy because we know for a fact the second statement is just depression talking. Not even just Stede! Edward spends the first two episodes actively resisting evidence to the contrary in his spiral because it hurts too much - Izzy blatantly confessing his love didn't break through, it just got him shot for trying.

To go back to the bathtub in 1x06, Stede's affirmation there wasn't any more effective than Izzy's confession in S2. It gets Edward to get up out of the bathtub and pull himself back together, but the very next episode opens with Edward getting antsy and trying to leave before Stede can reject him. In 1x08 he's still half-waiting for Stede to notice there's something wrong with him.

Edward always has a little dark voice in the back of his mind saying that Calico Jack isn't his friend, and Izzy isn't his friend, and Stede isn't his friend... but it's Edward's voice. One he'll have to fight against forever, one that will sound really persuasive in his darkest moments (like when he's in a bathtub admitting its source out loud for the first time in his life), but also one that is lying.

So... that's the big reason.

Now, Reason #2 is a bit more nuanced - Edward is really repressed.

This is pretty much entirely the fault of Reason #1, but it is technically a different thing. Because Edward hates himself and has a flawed perspective of all his relationships, he instinctively holds himself back from them to some degree.

This kinda gets into the whole Izzy vs Stede thing, because Edward has a very small collection of interests and desires that he shoved into a small box as things he didn't deserve well before becoming a pirate (due to both mommy and daddy trauma), and then he never brought those things up with anyone close to him. Until he met Stede, who was basically the walking embodiment of several of those interests/desires and a person who Edward uniquely did not have a script or baseline for interacting with, so he ended up doing the reverse and diving into exploring all that as the core of this one singular relationship.

Which has left him very unbalanced.

Like, he's not wholly engaging in the relationship due to fear of rejection either way. There's nothing intrinsically healthier about letting Izzy know all his ugliest bits or Stede know all his most hidden emotional vulnerabilities. And the fear of rejection in both cases is based in his depression / conviction he's unlovable, not evidence that Izzy would react poorly or whatever.

But if he was capable of evaluating his relationships objectively, he might have felt a little like even Izzy who knew him so well wasn't as close of friend as he truly desired, simply because he puts away that box of things around him. Only... Izzy doesn't make him do that. That box was probably put away before Izzy even met him.

And like... Edward can feel his feelings about Izzy not knowing the super important emotional things he wants him to know, but it's still on Edward for not even trying to tell him.

(This got longer than I meant it to, lol. Anyway here's my hiatus post where I'm nice to Calico Jack on this topic too.)

[adickaboutspoons]

What are your thoughts on season 2 up to this point? I was so excited for this season, but there were some moments I literally said “WHAT?” because they just made no sense to me.

Hi Nonnie! Let me start by reassuring you that you are not the only one. Sorry to leave you on read so long. The short answer to "what are my thoughts on S2 so far" is "it's complicated." The (ramblier and much) longer answer is going under a cut.

Let's start out on a high note - the things that I loved! I know a lot of people for whom it was offputtingly or anxiety-inducingly hard to watch, but I thought Ed's Kraken-era and especially his suicidiality was extremely well done.* I've known more than a few people in my life who have struggled with depression and suicidal ideation, and even some who have lost that battle, and I felt like the writers handled it accurately and sensitively without romanticizing it or bowlderizing it. It IS hard to watch, and it SHOULD be, but it also walks a very fine line between never letting us forget that we should be sympathizing with Ed but not to the point of forgetting or excusing the damage that his path of self-destruction is inflicting on both himself and those around him. And that is a HARD balance to strike, so I really think it deserves special acknowledgement. (real bummer of a high note to start on, huh? Also, that asterisk is there on purpose. I'll get there, I promise.) I loved the mini-arc of the first 3 episodes with the Revenge Crew. Lots of genuinely funny moments (especially from Matt Maher who has just been DEVISTATINGLY funny this season), but still allowing plenty of room for emotional moments to breathe and land. I LOVE Zheng Yi Sao. Ruibo is just FANTASTIC and her line delivery is my everything, and Yi Sao is just delicious as a counterpoint to Calico Jack - a master manipulator whose guile is calculated to be particularly appealing to Stede. Stede's brilliant escape plan is everything that I ever wanted to see and felt like him really coming into his own as a strategist (triumph over a more powerful/more skilled opponent based on his wits, flare for drama, and unconventional way of thinking, using his environment to his advantage, and letting himself be underestimated) and a captain (prioritizing the safety of his crew over personal considerations, even to the point of rescuing the crewmembers he thought responsible for murdering the love of his life).

Speaking of putting aside personal considerations, WHOLLY FUCK did Rhys knock it out of the park with the end of episode 3. I mean, I think that his acting as a whole has just been phenomenal this season - possibly even better than last, but episode 3 especially, and this scene in particular. Like, it is SO HARD to do a "come back to me" scene that isn't trite and a little cheesy, and he just nailed it. (And also the scene itself and how what brought Stede out of his grief and alerted him that Ed was still there was the sound of Ed's ring ON HIS WEDDING FING FINGER knocking on wood as Ed's fingers began to twitch. I mean, whoever is responsble for that detail, KISS ME).

I love everything about the Gravy Basket (except maybe the pigs? I'm still not sure I get that. Except for Hornighost calling Ed thick as pig shit, I don't really see what they could possibly represent in a place where EVERYTHING is symbolic). How subtly they played the whole limbo thing with the blue wash over everything and the costuming and the Bergman-esque camera work. Everything about Hornighost as an externaliztion of Ed self-regard (how Ed panics at and implicitly mistrusts receiving care and nourishment from himself, how receiving negative self-talk makes him mad but isn't contradicted, the way he keeps on attacking and trying to kill himself, even what I can now see as foreshadowing that, while sex is something Ed wants and even considers worth living for, he's profoundly uncomfortable about talking about it). Just all of the delicious metaphorical cronch of the rock of Ed's self-loathing dragging him down into the depths of dispair (where he feels like he's drowning, because love is easy - like breathing - and there is no love to be found here) and juxtaposing that with Stede simultaneously making his own descent into the depths of his grief (and the slow deep exhale he makes on the stairs), and how Ed's self-loathing falls away when he realizes that there's someone out there waiting for him (the whole of "cons" list for not choosing life being his fear that that wasn't true) but how that alone isn't enough to make him resurface.

And now a special paragraph break to talk about merStede because I love it so much and I have so much to say and if I just lumped my merboy in with the rest of the Gravy Basket stuff, it would be an unreadable mountian of textblock. So first, I will never not be blown away by the fact that it was all practical effects. Rhys did an amazing job swimming with a monofin and the tail was beautiful and moved beautifully in the water (and I am also endlessly making out with Taika's wig makers because my REAL hair doesn't look that beautiful underwater). But also the metaphor! About how what Ed wanted more than anything was Stede. But not to save him - or at least not to drag him out of his dispair - but to meet him on his own level

And I love how that becomes a through-line on their relationship through the rest of the show so far - that Ed was right that he could trust Stede to meet him where he is. We see it when Stede starts to reach out to him at Anne & Mary's, but when Ed says "You don't get to say that to me" when it's obvious Stede wants to say "I love you," Stede backs down and says things Ed IS ready to hear. We see it when Stede goes to ramp up the pash in their moonlight kiss, and when Ed says he wants to take things slow, reaching out to hold Ed's hand instead (bonus verifying that it's ok!). We see it when Stede slams Ed into the wall and waits for a nod before going in for a kiss. We see it when Ed says that sleeping together was a mistake and Stede's response is to say "Well, you know, this can be whatever we want it to be" - presumably even if that means backing off from sex without any indication of when it might be on offer again.

Loved the murderwives. They were so fun and zany and batshit and oh look - a perfect example of how poor communication is the relationship killer even for two people perfectly suited to one another.

Loved the return of the David Jenkins school of historical accuracy with the Louis XV table being in an antique shop when it would have been, at best, contemporaneous (and, later, Jackie describing the Swede as a "jackhammer" and talking about Ed wearing "natural fibers" as though anything else would have even been available).

Loved the set-up and payoff of the transmogrification spell. Because of course Buttons can change himself into a bird. Love that for him.

Loved the end of episode 5 - the callback to "you wear fine things well" (and how much it must have meant to Stede that Ed remembered what he said and that he thought of that moment too), Ed's little "here I come" shoulder shimmy to make his bell ring, the way that the moon was a waxing gibbous to signify that their relationship is on the mend but not QUIIIIIIIIIIITE there yet, Stede's hand in Ed's hair, Ed feeling comfortable enough to express his boundaries and Stede respecting them immediately, the handholding and how play has always been a love language for these two. And even finding out Fang's name is Kevin (confirmation that the writers have read Prisons Of Our Own Perceptions? y/y)

Loved the first 3/4 of episode 6. Cousin Balky (hush - I'm old) being a super dramatic bitch? Faboo. Ed feeling a storm coming? I'm getting chills. Fang with a teacup? Adorable. Crew hijinks and being lovely and comfortable together? Magnificent. Ed and Stede being adorable together in a non-romantic context? Yes please! Stede having fun at a party for the first time ever? Magical. Wee John serving the fuck out of his Calypso drag? Awesome. Ed being all tied up? <reaction redacted> And a badass under torture? And so protective of his man? SO fucking baller. Stede winning the day with his people-positive brand of piracy influencing Ned's crew to turn on him? My everything. I even rather liked Con's singing voice.

As for episode 7? Well... The parallel about Ed weighing down his leathers and throwing them overboard as contrasted, say, with him pushing the bride dolly out the window and Hornighost sending him plummeting over the cliff is pretty juicy, and there might be a meta in there later when I can stop being mad about episode 7 long enough to write it. And I literally laughed out loud at Stede's bitchy comment to Izzy about taking a victory lap. Uh... end of list.

As for what I don't love... I'm gonna be real, I've tried to write this section three times now over the course of two days, and it just ends up being novel-length because I keep over-explaining myself. So I'm gonna bullet-point it. If anyone is still reading and wants a more in-depth explanation of any of the below, shoot me an ask.

I think the writers thought they could tell their 10-episode story in 8 episodes if they were just with judicious enough with their editing, and failed. They should have killed their darlings and started from scratch with a story that actually fit the structure rather than forcing all the pacing problems of the season.

Getting back to that *. One of the big pacing problems is that they set up serious shit to deal with, and then didn't have the time to actually give it the proper care it deserved. I'm deeply troubled by how trauma was handled this season - or rather how it was NOT handled. Ed getting abandoned by any support structure the literal day he recovered from a suicide attempt? And then the very next day "that nasty, dark stuff that brought us here is all in the past"? Lucius' trauma being minimalized on three separate occations until it disappears altogether once he rushes his relationship with Pete? All of the Blackbeard's crew stuff just kind of never actually dealt with? I get that it's a comedy show, but the writers not bothering to actually deal with the problems that they set up is lazy and more than a little callous.

I hate the Manly Stede arc. It's antithetical to his established character, to several of the show's main theses, and disconfirmed multiple times within the course of the season to the point of incoherence about why it keeps persisting. And if it's going the way I think it is, where Stede learns that he didn't need to change to be worthy of Ed's love and his crew's respect after all, totally pointless.

Sub-set of Manly Stede arc, but deserving its own special mention, I hate the death of Ned Low. It is a STRUGGLE not to over-explain myself about this one.

Sub-sub-set of the above point - I HATE the sex scene.

Yet another sub-sub-set - I hate the "Stede is embraced by the pirate community for... murdering one of their own?" plot. (Ostensibly) being responsible for the death of two high-ranking British naval officers? Nah. Killing one of his own kind? Toast of the town. Sure.

Just pretty much all of episode 7, really. The conceit of it aside, it put me in a position where I'm far less invested in Gentlebeard than I previously was. Like, I get that the writers want me to be upset that they're miscommunicating and split up (again), but I genuinely don't care. It's the 5th time in 10 episodes that they've pulled this. Sorry not sorry, but there's a law of diminishing returns when you keep pulling the same stunt and the miscommunication upon which it's predicated is contrived. I didn't have patience for this kind of bullshit drama-for-drama's sake when I was a teenager, and I sure as shit don't have it as a grown ass woman.

I hate the Izzy arc. It's poorly set up, poorly developed, and poorly executed. It's riddled with contrivace. I expect that the entire point of it is to make us care about what I suspect is going to happen to him in episode 8, which is so lazy and cheap. I was Izzy-neutral with a "he serves as a great antagonist and I think Con does a smashing job" leaning before this season. I'm so staunchly "reject the premise" about this arc and annoyed by how much limited screentime it's gobbled up that could have been otherwise distributed that I would prolly now consider myself an Izzy-anti. And I know I'm not the only one who feels that way.

Beyond the particulars, I feel like there are underlying issues that make the show unrecognizable as what I fell in love with in season 1. After episode 3, the show seemed to develop an allergy to sincerity, never giving Moments a chance to land and breathe without undercutting them. There no longer seem to be themes providing a frame upon which to hang the narrative structure, or at least, they are quite a lot more muddled and at times contradictory.

Oh - and there's some really racist shit in episode 5 that never gets unpacked or addressed.

[llbeadbazaar]

A little depression robe to keep us company during our stay in the gravy basket. 💖

[canonedhours]

Ed is in no way helpless or in need of saving, he is perfectly capable of defending himself. He is one of the best pirate captains for a reason. Its a surprise to me however that there exists a opposition for damsel in distress ed. Most of what I've seen of "damsel" ed is tongue and cheek jokes, but others playing on the understanding that yes he is a man of multitudes and prowess, but one who also desires soft things and a gentler life outside of piracy, so what manifests are iterations of depression robe era edward having the oppoturnity to pursue such desires without fear of ostracization. I didnt know there was a dislike for damsel ed and I'm curious as to why that is. Most are familiar with ed as a protagonist and know that he doesn't need saving. He doesnt want to be saved by Stede the way he was during Calypsos Birthday, but instead the way it happened in the Gravy Basket.

37

[indestructiblelittlefuckers]

(wishlist no whatever: we still have Izzy die to protect ed or stede, everyone is devastated. only izzy isn't really dead, not fully. he is the gravy basket. cut to ed is in a manic/depressive episode, but is still talking to Izzy's grave. he is finally telling izzy how he feels and guess what, izzy can hear him and he comes back!)

[those-garsh-darn-homos]

The gays ruined aviators for me.

I was once a man that loved his aviator glasses. Didn’t matter if they were fake reading glasses, sunglasses, old geriatric glasses, homoerotic Top Gun glasses, I loved me some aviators. That was all until I discovered the inner working of gay sex.

It all began one night back in ’87, in the local gay Milwaukee bar that I had been perusing due to grief. It hadn’t been the best year, 3 of my favourite gay icons died, first Liberace, then Andy Warhol, and just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Rudolf Hess, gay idol extraordinaire, kicked the fuckin bucket. I was beyond grief stricken from this tragic series of misfortunate events. For these three men to be struck down in their youth for the only crime, of being gay, was a travesty of the highest order. So I found myself at the bottom of a bottle to forget the pain, and also desperate to be stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey, to really get in the mindset of my idols. You see I never got the chance to fornicate with a male, but all these dead guys seemed so happy during their life and I figured it might be the best anti-depressant, so I put on my most effeminate outfit and as Rudolf Hess once said “I’m looking to get some man bussy tonight”. My attempts at getting ploughed were mostly unsuccessful, even after I took a play out of Liberace’s book, and dressed myself like a flamboyant gay lizard that was on the verge of overdosing on poppers. I didn’t put all my eggs in one basket though, some nights I would dress up like a rambunctious oyster, using my curtains as a cape, a clown’s neck ruffle, and more rings than a closeted Italian mob boss. None of these fashion choices worked out in my favour, since Prince hadn’t popularized looking like a bitch yet.

So there I was one night, sitting at the bar wearing a pink feathered coat three sizes too big for me, that I had to poach three dozen flamingo’s to make, when all of a sudden, across the bar, I spot a man in aviators, and my knees began to buckle. His eyes met mine momentarily, and I could feel us using our gay telepathy abilities to communicate with one another, he said to me “I want to eat you in my bathtub” which I just thought was so romantic, I always wanted to be eaten out in a bubble bath, perhaps with some nice rose petals sprinkled on the floor, a magnolia scented candle filling the air with fumes of homosexuality, some Marvin Gaye being played on Vinyl. I picked my glass up and took a seat next to this aviator clad bear. Not only had he aviators covering his eyes, he had a second pair poking out of his shirt’s breast pocket, then I noticed every time he shifted in his seat, that he was sitting on a pair broken aviators in his back pocket, which explained why he was bleeding from the ass. His t-shirt, under his flannel shirt (gay uniform around those parts) had a aviators printed on it. Every detail of this man was perfection, from the aviators on his eyes, to the secret backup aviators in his ankle holster. We introduced ourselves and I discovered his name was Jeffery. It didn’t take long after that, for him to woo me with his charm, saying all kinds of sexy things like, “I’m gonna eat your heart with some gravy” and “I just wanna chop you into itty bitty pieces and gobble you up” I mean I knew I was a snack but, wow. He could see a red blush covering my cheeks every time he waved that smooth tongue of his, and it wasn’t long until he offered to take me back to his place.

When we reached his humble abode, I was met with the stench of death in the air, which I could dig, since he was obviously going for the grizzled Canadian lumberjack look. I took off my flamingo coat and sat on his couch as he fixed us a drink. When he returned with the drink I could smell the familiar scent of rohypnol, and had to request another drink, since rohypnol just didn’t react well with my tummy, or my ass, since every time I had over the years, I would wake up unable to sit down for a week. Jeffery looked confused for a moment, then went to fix me another non-rohypnol flavoured cocktail. After that hiccup we enjoyed our time together, chit chatting about our favourite gay icons, but I didn’t know many of his, Dean Carroll, Jürgen Bartsch, Paul Bateson, Wayne Williams, John Wayne Gacy, but I did have to say, True Grit was a great movie so I understood why he would choose John Wayne to be one of his gay idols.

Somewhere in the middle of our conversation, Jeffery decided to pop the question, of whether we should fornicate, mano a mano. I admitted that I was unfamiliar in the territory of how men might partake in coitus together without a hole to place one’s meat for marinating. Jeffery was very understanding and agreed to show me how gay men achieve sexual gratification, without the presence of a twinkle cave to copulate. It turned out, when you don’t have a punani to poke, intercourse becomes considerably more surgical. Jeffery assured me he was a professional and explained that all he would need along with his wing-wang, was a power drill and some hydrochloric acid. The drill would be used to make a small hole to act as a makeshift snatch in my skull. I was a little apprehensive, but Jeffery asked if I could think of any other hole for him to go all rumpy pumpy on, and I could not for the life of me think of any other way. Just as the drill began to get closer and closer to my forehead, I began to sweat profusely and shake uncontrollably. I didn’t care if Rudolf the Red Nosed Nazi found joy in doing this, it just wasn’t for me, I knew it. Maybe I was a top, all I knew was I just wasn’t cut out for being a submissive bitch, like Prince. I stopped Jeffery and explained that I wasn’t feeling too well and that I should leave, only he handcuffed me and continued the procedure. “what have I got myself into now” is all I could think to myself, of all the guys I could have had my first time with, it had to be an undercover cop. Here I was, in police issue pink fluffy handcuffs, as I was about to have completely normal gay sex for the first time, and then I asked myself why he might be doing this to me, and it was then I made the decision to come clean. “okay it’s true, I whacked off to my Grandma’s bedsheets, I’m guilty” I confessed. Jeffery stopped in his tracks and now he was the one giving me confused looks. I took my opportunity and ran for the door screaming “I’LL NEVER STOP JERKING MY GHERKIN TO GRANNY’S SKID MARKED BRITCHES”. I made my escape with my flamingo coat, but like a woman running away from a psycho killer in a slasher, I had to ditch the heels (Giant flamingo coat in this case) if I had any hopes of escaping with my skull’s hymen intact. Do you know how many families of flamingo’s I had to slaughter to get that fucking coat? It’s gonna take forever to make another one now.

A few weeks passed after that and I started getting a paranoid about whether the police were onto me. I couldn’t take the heat, every time a squad car drove slowly past my house. I could feel my days of freedom slipping away by the minute, and if I was gonna go out, it was going to be on my own terms. I took myself down to the local station and turned myself in. They brought me to an interrogation room to ask me about what crime I committed, and I explained to them that one of their officers had attempted to arrest me a few weeks ago and perform sexual acts on me. When they asked what he did I gave them every detail of the homosexual intercourse procedure and they explained that it wasn’t one of their officers, but instead just an ordinary gay man trying to partake in something called “skull fucking”. They said it was pretty common around these parts and not to worry about it too much and sent me on my way. The weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders as I walked out of that station.

I never did get around to partaking in gay sex after that day, but ever since then, I can’t look at a man in aviators without being reminded of my close call. I instinctively tell anyone I meet wearing aviators “I DON’T WANT TO BE SKULL FUCKED, PLEASE DO NOT GIVE ME ROHYPNOL” before I can move on with interacting with them any further, and it has drove away many of my friends. I really can’t help it, it’s a kneejerk reaction. I never heard much of that Jeffery after that, but if I did meet him, I’d probably bludgeon his head with a rusty pipe, don’t know why, just really want to do exactly that.

[eryiss]

Event: LGBTQA+ Month hosted by @ft-wwtdp​

Ship: Fraxus (Freed Justine x Laxus Dreyar)

Prompts: Questions, Acceptance, Loss, Growth, Beginnings

Verse: Modern AU

Alternate Places To Read: Fanfiction, Archive of our Own. Event master list here.

Here’s the third group of one shots for the LGBTQA+ event. This has allusions to anxiety and depression in the Growth prompt, but nothing that emotive. Hope you enjoy it.

Day Eleven – Questions (And an Answer)

"Why can't you just tell me?"

Mirajane was leaning forward, her milkshake pushed to the side as she glared at Freed across the table. She had an expression of determination on her features that would have made any normal man immediately want to crumble and give her whatever she wanted. Freed was not a normal man and looked back at her without care.

When she had invited him to their local diner to catch up, he should have guessed that it wasn't a polite invitation between friends. He hadn't established a link between her sudden and unexpected wish to see him in person and what he had done earlier in the day.

To think, changing his relationship status on Facebook would end up with him being interrogated.

"Why can't you just tell me his name? I probably don't even know him, so it wouldn't even matter."

"You'd look him up the second I was looking away," Freed replied, absently twisting the straw of his drink. "My relationship is private, I'm not even sure why I updated my profile. So, you can ask as many times as you'd like, I won't tell you about him."

"What if I make you a deal. You tell me his name and show me a picture, and I promise that I won't even think about looking him up," Mirajane bargained.

"No," Freed said, looking down at the empty basked of fries they were sharing.

Mirajane leant back, clearly thinking over a new way that she could extract the information that she so desperately wanted. Freed would wonder why she was so curious, but there was no point in it. Mirajane, though a delightful and caring person, would often involve herself in her friend's relationships to a point where it might have been invasive. She was harmless with it – assumedly she just wanted to share in the happiness of a new relationship – but it did get somewhat annoying when you were a victim to it.

Freed and Laxus weren't keeping their relationship a secret from their friends, exactly. Laxus wanted to tell his grandfather first; both that he was dating Freed, and that he wasn't as straight as he had previously thought. Makarov should know first.

That was what he was doing now, actually. Freed hoped it was going well.

"Wait," Mirajane said, slightly wistfully. "Is it someone we know? Do I know them?"

"No," Freed lied. "I'm still a little hungry. Could you get me some gravy fries?"

If he was going to be tortured with questions, he might as well get a meal out of it.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," Mirajane suddenly whimpered, ignoring Freed's request. Freed smirked at the quiver in her voice. "I understand that you want to keep it private. Its clear our friendship isn't as important as I had thought it was."

Then she started crying. Freed almost laughed.

"You're grossly underestimating how comfortable I am with everyone here thinking I've made you cry," Freed leant back, allowing Mirajane to continue. The tears stopped and were replaced with a glare.

"Fine," Mirajane sighed, standing up. "I'll get it out of you eventually."

"You won't."

Freed watched as Mirajane walked to the counter, most likely to get him the fries he wanted; the first step in negotiation was getting the person their choice of food, Freed supposed. Once she was talking to the sever, he pulled out his phone and looked at the notifications he'd gotten. He had texted Laxus that Mirajane had been railing him for more information, hoping to give the blonde something to laugh at to calm his nerves.

From Laxus (17:56): Good luck with her. She don't conform to the Geneva Convention.

From Laxus (18:10):

Just told him, he's crying.

From Laxus (18:11):

He's happy. Hugged me, said I should invite you to eat at his place. don't know how long itll be until I can leave, so see ya later.

With a smile, Freed sent a quick text saying that he should take his time with his grandfather, and that it was good that he was supportive of him. He also included a thanks for the advice on dealing with Mirajane.

He returned his phone back into his pocket just as Mirajane came back to the table with a basket of gravy fries and another milkshake. She seemed to have noticed that he had texted someone and paused just before she put the food on the table. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she got an understanding of what happened.

"You were texting him, weren't you?" She asked.

"I was," Freed smiled and nodded. "Imagine if you were here when I was. You could have taken my phone and seen his name and his picture. You could even see how we talk to each other," He taunted. "And you missed it by only a few seconds."

"I should pour this over your head," Mirajane mumbled as she sat down.

"But you won't. Because you know if you did that I'd keep my boyfriend hidden for the rest of our lives to spite you," Freed smiled.

"Well, if we're allowed to be spiteful, then I think that comment justifies another load of questions," Mirajane smiled, and it would have scared a lesser man. Freed ate a gravy covered fry, leant back in his chair and prepared himself.

He couldn't be sure exactly how long Mirajane continued her onslaught of questions, but he managed to stay strong throughout the experience. He refuted almost every question; and those he didn't he had told her incorrect answers to annoy her. She picked up on that fairly quickly, apparently it wasn't likely that Freed would be dating an elderly circus performer that he met in a woodworking convention hosted by decapitated corpse of an Egyptian Queen.

She kicked him under the table for the latter lie.

The evening had gotten darker now, and Freed had yet to feel his phone buzz in reply from Laxus. He had decided that he'd wait until he returned to leave; as annoying as the situation may be, Mirajane was good company. And he was getting used to the endless speaking from Mirajane. Which was why it was so obvious when she stopped.

"Isn't that…" Mirajane trailed off, frowning as she looked past Freed to the door.

He looked over his shoulder to see that Laxus had walked in, brushing snow off his shoulders. Freed frowned, Laxus hadn't texted him saying that he would be coming to the diner when he was done. He focused on that, looking towards Laxus as the blonde approached them with a gentle smile. It was good to see him smiling; the talk with Makarov had gone as well as the texts showed, then.

"She demon," Laxus said, nodding his head towards Mirajane in greeting. "Freed."

He leant down, cupped Freed's chin with both hands and brought their lips together. It was a slow kiss, short lived but passionate. Freed closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation greatly. Laxus pulled away with a grin.

"I'm gonna get some coffee, one second," Laxus smirked.

When Freed looked back at Mirajane, she was beaming.

~~~

Day Twelve – Acceptance (Of The Next Step)

The thought hit him suddenly, and knocked him off kilter.

Laxus was sitting in the apartment he shared with Freed, which he had only just moved into. He was alone, watching the TV absent minded as he waited for Freed to return from the take-out place with their dinner. He had been smiling, thinking back over his relationship with the man. His mind settled on his first kiss with his boyfriend, the electricity he felt and the burning passion that had been shared between them. It had been fantastic.

And then he realised that he would probably never have a first kiss again. It left him feeling a little bit weird.

He loved Freed, there was no doubt in his mind about that. When he thought about his future he envisioned Freed by his side, perhaps as his husband one day. He wasn't going to leave Freed, nor was he going to spiral or doubt his feelings for the man. This was the best relationship he had ever had, and he relished every second of it.

But once he realised he'd perhaps never kiss someone again, more realisations hit him. He'd never experience a first date with someone, never be struck by the feeling of love for the first time, never take someone to bed for the first time.

It made him feel a little… he didn't know.

He had never been anything near a player, but he had enjoyed dating. Being an attractive young man, he got peoples attentions often and it had been fun. Kissing someone, falling for someone, enjoying the throws of new passion. It had all been a light, fun experience. Then, with the few people he had gotten serious with, he'd gotten to know them. Gotten to love them, and that had been equally fun.

The fact that it might not happen again was a little odd. Like losing something that was always there.

What made it worse was how he didn't know what he felt. He truly did love Freed, wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. He wasn't going to cheat on the man, nor was he going to do anything else in relation to his feeling of loss. He was happy, deliriously so, with his relationship. But still, that feeling of missing something was there.

This had been the farthest he'd gotten in a relationship. Maybe he had commitment issues.

Should he talk to Freed about this? Would that help or make things worse?

Questions as to what he should do plagued his mind as he waited for Freed to return, and he tried to distract himself by focusing on the action movie he had put on in the background. It worked as a small distraction, and allowed him to push the small feeling of nervousness to the back of his mind. At least for a short while.

When Freed returned with their food, it only made Laxus feel more conflicted. Because the rush of feelings he felt when he saw Freed was still there, reaffirming how damn much he loved him. He adored this man, everything about him, and loved being with him.

So why did he feel like he was missing out on something?

Freed didn't notice his odd behaviour, instead walking to their kitchen counter and removing the food from the plastic bag. Laxus had gotten himself a burger with fries, whereas Freed had gotten a curry. It was why he'd taken so long, having gone to multiple take-out places. Laxus walked towards him, stomach growling.

"Sorry it took so long," Freed apologised. "There was a woman complaining at the Indian place in front of me. Quite obnoxious too."

"Don't worry," Laxus shrugged. He looked down as Freed unwrapped his food. One smell in particular got his attention. Garlic cheese and chili naan bread. "Fuck, thought they took that off the menu."

"Apparently it's back," Freed said, pulling out Laxus' burger. "D'you want some?"

"Er, yeah," Laxus nodded, watching as Freed ripped the bread in half. An amused smile formed on his face. "Thought you didn't share food. Thought if you order something, that's all you eat."

"I do say that," Freed nodded. "But that's mainly so Bickslow doesn't eat half of my food when we eat out," He chuckled. "Consider me sharing my food as a perk now you live with me."

It was a joke, said in a teasing tone, but it made Laxus feel so warm.

Every bit of lingering doubt that he had felt about not experiencing a new first in a relationship seemed to fizzle away. It was for the stupidest reason as well, but it somehow seemed to make sense. This was the first time that they would share take-out in their own shared home. And, as ridiculous as the feeling was, it made sense.

Laxus didn't miss experiencing new things with new people. He was scared of missing the sensation of discovering new things about a person.

He enjoyed the first kiss because everyone kissed differently, and he wanted to know how to make it good for them. He enjoyed first dates because, if going well, you'd discover a whole damn new person. He enjoyed taking people to bed for the first time because you got to explore someone intimately, finding out their fondness's and how they were with everything stripped back. He liked the early stages of dating because of how exciting it was to discover a person.

And suddenly, as absurd as it was, Laxus realised that he didn't know everything about Freed. He was now going to discover what it was like to know him as a roommate. He'd find out what he did when it was raining, and they were trapped inside. He'd find out how often he went grocery shopping. He'd find out small things about the man he loved.

"Although I should make it clear, this is something I want replicated," Freed continued, looking to Laxus with a smirk. "I am fully intending to steal a good amount of your fries."

"I think I can deal with that," Laxus grinned. "For a spoonful of chicken."

"Hm, you intend to bargain with me," Freed frowned. "You're aware that you've yet to pay your half, so I technically own all of this. I'm only giving it to you out of the goodness of my heart."

Thus, a playful debate began. And Laxus couldn't stop smiling, because playfully fighting over food with his boyfriend in their home for the first time was better than any first with anybody else.

~~~

Day Thirteen – Loss (For Words)

It was very rare that Freed was at a loss for words. This was one such time.

Finding him speechless was a difficult task. The man knew five languages – English, Japanese, German, Spanish and Arabic – and enjoyed showing off about it. Furthermore, he was rather a smartass when the mood struck him, and would quickly come up with a retort to anything said to him. He was quick-witted and smart, and it was almost impossible for him to be caught off guard to the point where he physically couldn't think of anything to say.

But Laxus had managed to do it, and all he'd done was shown up.

The two had been dating for half a year, but long distance. Freed lived in England and Laxus in America, and their meeting had been a chance occurrence when they had been vacationing in Mexico at the same time. They had gotten close during their two weeks together and were dating by the end of it.

They skyped often and had once met up in person when Freed's job had allowed him to come to New York. He was a university lecturer and had been invited to NYU as a visiting professor in philology. They had loved seeing each other there. That had been four months ago, and they hadn't seen each other in person since. Until now.

Now, Laxus was standing at the door of Freed's lecture hall, grinning.

Their next in person meeting was planned to be in a few months; they'd saved up to go away for a week together. And yet there he was, at the top of the staircase of the hall. Grinning, looking at Freed with a giddy amusement.

Freed, however, was still at a loss for words.

"Erm," He managed to say, eyes fixed on Laxus. Half of his students were looking at the man also. "I'm afraid to say we'll have to call it short today. I'll make it up next week, but it appears something has come up. You have my apologies."

The wait for his students to leave was agonisingly slow, and all Freed could think of was how much he wanted to walk to his boyfriend and kiss him. His grasp on being professional loosened with every second.

How damn long did it take to put away a laptop.

Eventually the students left, leaving Freed and Laxus alone in the large lecture hall. They both walked to each other in silence, moving instinctively as they wrapped their arms around each other and pulled the other into a kiss. It was slow, passionate and filled with almost four months of not touching each other. Freed melted into it, relaxing into his boyfriend and pushing against him to feel any amount of closeness to him.

"Why are you here?" Freed asked as the pulled apart, unwilling to fight off his smile.

"You don't want me here?" Laxus said with a grin, starting to pull away. "I can go back."

"Don't even consider it," Freed smirked, pulling Laxus against him. "Just answer my question."

"Well, my boss was pretty happy with me and I got a bonus for the end of the year," Laxus smiled. "Thought I might as well put it to good use."

"I'm glad you did," Freed smiled, resting his forehead against Laxus' with a soft expression on his face. "I didn't realise how much I've missed actually being with you."

Laxus pulled him into another kiss in response, wrapping his arms tight around the man's waist to pull him close. The feeling of having Laxus so close to him: to feel the smooth of his skin against his fingers and the rough texture of his coat against his torso. It felt so real, so perfect and incredible that Freed quickly found himself addicted again.

"How long are you here for?" He said, panting slightly as they pulled apart again.

"A week," Laxus said with a grin. "But, well, I actually need to talk to you about that."

"Why?" Freed frowned.

"Well, my boss got really happy with me performance and offered me a promotion," Laxus said, smiling a little proudly. Freed wished to kiss him for such a look. "And, well, the branch of the company I work at doesn't have an opening, but there's a few other places that do. Most of them are in America. But, well, there's one here."

It was perhaps a first. That Freed would be at a loss for words two times the same day.

Because the suggestion hit him instantly; Laxus had been offered a job that would have him move to London. It would mean that their relationship would no longer be long distance, and that they would be able to see each other in person almost whenever they wished. That they would be able to kiss each other whenever they wanted. The idea made Freed's stomach ache; he didn't realise how much he had wanted that until then.

"I know we need to talk about it," Laxus continued. "I'm not expecting ya to let me move in with you or anything, I'll get my own place. And I'm sure that there's a hundred other things we'll need to talk about before I make the decision, but the idea of being close to you. I fucking want that."

This time, it was Freed who instigated the kiss. He leant up and pressed their lips together softly, lacking the urgency of their previous kisses. Laxus was not only here for the week, but he could be moving here permanently very soon, so why rush?

"We can talk about that later," Freed promised. "But right now, I just want to enjoy the fact that you're here, in my arms."

"I ain't gonna argue with that," Laxus grinned, running his hand through Freed's hair as they pulled each other into a kiss.

Twice today Laxus had put him at a loss for words, and he loved the man for it.

~~~

Day Fourteen – Growth (And Support)

Laxus hadn't spoken since they had gotten in the car.

It was the kind of reaction that Freed had expected, but that didn't make it feel any better. The blonde was clearly wrapped up inside his own thoughts, and Freed understood why. He didn't say anything to his husband as they drove, knowing that any speaking would probably only serve to aggravate Laxus. Still, it was hard to watch him so nervous and not know how he could help him feel better.

Once they arrived at their destination, it was clear Laxus' nervousness was getting worse. His posture tensed, his shoulders hunched, and his gaze didn't leave the ground. Freed wished he could do anything to make him feel better, but he couldn't. All he could do was be there to support Laxus.

"Are you ready to go in?" Freed asked softly. Laxus nodded.

The room was familiar to Freed, a simple yet pleasant waiting room with many soft colours. It was purposefully designed to be nice and welcoming, but the effect didn't do anything to calm Laxus' anxiety. Freed placed a hand on the mans back and gently guided him to the front desk.

"Laxus Dreyar, for a three thirty appointment," Freed said.

"Of course," The receptionist smiled. "Take a seat."

It had been Freed's suggestion that Laxus see a therapist. The blonde had an incredibly troubled, and potentially traumatic relationship with his father, but had always been closed off about it. Freed had often tried to help him whenever he could but lacked any professional ability. Anything he could do was guesswork, and its effectiveness varied.

Recently, it had become worse. Laxus confessed that his father had been in jail, but was soon to be released, and it was clearly affecting the man. Freed had done whatever he could, but it wasn't enough. That was when the suggestion of therapy had been made.

Laxus hadn't initially agreed with the idea. It had taken both Freed and Makarov quite some time to convince Laxus to attempt it. He had fought back harshly, claiming that he didn't need it because his father had no influence on him anymore. Both knew it was a lie but didn't say anything, instead attempting to convince him that it would be good even without his father being included. Eventually Freed had confessed that, as a teenager, he also had been to regular therapy sessions and it had helped him greatly.

So now they were here, in the same therapist's office that Freed had frequented as a teenager. It felt a little strange to be back, this was the building where Freed had allowed himself to be most vulnerable. He didn't say this, though, as Laxus was his priority.

"Is it always gonna feel this…" Laxus spoke up, thinking of a word. "Intimidating."

"It didn't for me," Freed patted his knee. "It took about a month, but eventually I got used to it. It was something I did, and it became normal."

"What if it doesn't?" Laxus muttered.

"Then, for whatever reason, it's not working. Maybe the therapist isn't a good fit for you, maybe the environment is wrong. And if that happens, we'll talk about what we can do next," Freed promised. "But that isn't something you need to worry about today. All you're doing is meeting someone and talking to them."

"You said it's the same guy you had, right?" Laxus asked, and Freed nodded. "What's he like?"

"Nice," Freed thought. "He's not… you might have an idea of a therapist in mind. Someone stone faced with a notepad they won't let you see. He's not that. He'll engage in conversation, treat you like a person. And as you get closer to him, it's just like he's a friend."

"Doubt it," Laxus laughed cynically.

"Well, maybe not a friend exactly," Freed amended. "But it won't be as difficult to talk to him as you'd think. He's not a judge, he's simply there to help you through what you're thinking. And, most importantly, he's on your side."

Laxus didn't say anything, and Freed frowned.

"Once, he called me a dumbass dickhole," Freed commented, which got Laxus' attention.

"What?" Laxus asked, and a small hint of a laugh entered his voice.

"One of the issues I was trying to get past was secluding myself socially. I over-corrected and, that particular week, I went out with people every night. I overwhelmed myself and didn't have any enthusiasm to meet with people for weeks. When I told him all of this, he called me a dumbass dickhole," Freed chuckled. "I think he was trying to make me laugh."

"Why?"

"Because," Freed paused. He should be honest. "They'll be times when this is exhausting, and you'll get defensive. Certain times it'll feel like you're being scolded, and you'll be angry. And sometimes you'll need to be reminded that he's there for you. That was his way of telling me that while also letting me know how stupid I was being."

"Did he really help you?" Laxus asked, and perhaps optimism snuck into his voice.

"He truly did," Freed promised. "And hopefully he can do the same for you, but if he can't then we'll work something else out. But you need to engage with him as much as you can, okay?"

"Okay," Laxus nodded.

He was looking down at the floor again, and Freed placed a hand on the man's back comfortingly. It was clear that Laxus' nervousness wasn't going to simply disappear, and that it would be hard for him to remain calm and composed throughout the session, but now at least it seemed like he was willing to try it without being completely closed off.

When the receptionist called Laxus' name, he took a breath, stood up and walked towards the session room. Freed watched him with a soft smile on his face; this would be difficult for him, but it was a step forward. That was all Freed could ask.

~~~

Day Fifteen – Beginnings (And Further)

It hadn't been planned this way. If it had, Laxus probably would have spent days stressing about it happening, and perhaps would have talked himself out of doing it. This was a first for him – after all – and if it had been arranged before-hand Laxus would have inevitably worked himself into a mess panicking about everything that could have gone wrong. But, actually, this was all going rather well. It was actually quite nice.

"So, my boy, how did the two of you meet?" Makarov asked, smiling.

Laxus and never introduced a partner to his grandfather before. He had never really gotten that far with someone to the point where he wanted to make them a permanent fixture in his life, let alone the lives of his family and friends. His relationships had always been trapped at the beginning.

But Freed was different. The blonde couldn't explain why he felt like Freed was unique, exactly, he just knew in his gut that he was. Previously, he had been excited to see his partners and wanted to spend time with them, of course, but never in the way he did with Freed. He didn't just look forward to the time together as an idea, he looked forward to what they would do. Be that taking an overly competitive turn around an arcade, or walking to a take-out place together.

He wasn't in love with the concept of a partner. He was in love with the reality of Freed.

As Freed told the story of how they had met, Laxus stood up and went to the counter to get himself some coffee. He glanced back to see Makarov laughing as Freed spoke, and his boyfriend was smiling as he went on. Laxus smiled.

The couple had seen Makarov walking down the street by happenstance; the old man claimed he'd gotten his hair cut, but Laxus had seen him leave the chocolate shop that he wasn't meant to be entering because of a diet he was on. Rather than calling him out on that – which he was going to do eventually – a sudden urge hit the blonde.

He wanted to introduce Freed to him. That had never happened before.

And then he had. He asked Freed, who agreed, and a moment later they were talking. And it was really good. Laxus had always expected showing a partner off to his grandfather would be a hellish experience, filled with both embarrassment and worry that the old man might say something that would make him look bad. But this was fine; nice, actually. Maybe he shouldn't have put off doing this with his other partners.

Or maybe the fact it was Freed made a difference.

When the blonde brought the drinks to the table, Makarov groaned. Laxus had gotten himself a cappuccino, Freed a flat white with a scone, and Makarov an orange juice. The old man wasn't happy with what his grandson had gotten him, having ordered a hot chocolate.

"Stop pouting," Laxus condemned. "Your doctor said you need to worry about cholesterol."

"I'm over eighty years old, Brat, I can look after myself," Makarov went to pick up Laxus' coffee, but the blonde beat him to it. "Good luck with him, Freed. You've signed yourself up for a lifetime of this."

Laxus paused, eyes slowly hovering over to Freed. He knew he was in love with Freed, but their future hadn't truly been something that they had discussed. He didn't know how committed Freed was to the relationship, and Makarov bringing the topic up might be somewhat premature. Laxus didn't dare say anything, as he didn't want to risk… anything really.

"I'm sure I can make my peace with that," Freed said smoothly. "It's rather nice to be privy to that side of him."

"Be privy?" Laxus snorted. "You in your eighties as well?"

"Don't take any talk like that from him," Makarov said with a grin as Freed chuckled. "If you don't hit him, I will."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Freed smiled, patting Laxus' leg. "I expect that reminding him that he has a pair of shoes specifically for driving would make all the age-based comments stop. Otherwise you'd be a hypocrite, wouldn't you?"

"Asshole," Laxus chuckled, shaking his head.

"You have driving shoes?" Makarov cackled. "Even I don't have driving shoes. You don't have the gloves as well?"

That was how the rest of their time at the coffee shop went, with Freed and Makarov getting to know each other, occasionally making jokes at Laxus' expense. The blonde took them in good faith, seeing at it was a way the two were bonding with each other. Although he did make a note that, if he was going to invite Freed to his grandfather's house at some point, he would make sure to get there first and hide away anything that could be used to embarrass him. The photo-albums would be the first to go.

As they left, Makarov asked for a moment to speak to Laxus alone. Freed complied and walked to the car, leaving the two Dreyar's alone. Nerves filled Laxus as he waited for him to speak; his grandfather might have been pretending to like Freed.

"He'll be good for you," Makarov said, smiling. "And I like him, so you better not mess it up for yourself. I don't think you could do much better than that."

"Thanks," Laxus laughed, relaxing now. "I'm glad that you like him though. Cause I really think this might be something… I don't know. I just feel different with him."

"I've noticed. You look at him with these big eyes, had to hold my tongue about it because it was damn funny," Makarov grinned. "But he looks at you the same way. Don't be embarrassed."

"You think so?"

"Of course," Makarov smiled. "Keep him, Laxus."

"I will." Laxus promised.

The blonde smiled as he walked away. This was better than a relationship beginning; he loved it.

[etlunainmorte]

❄❄❄

***

*German Christmas Goose ( Weihnachtsgans )*

Total - 2 hours and 30 minutes

Prep - 30 minutes

Cook - 2 hours

Yield - 4 servings

*Ingredients

For the Goose:

4 1/2 - pound goose ( cleaned and dressed, no gizzards )

Dash salt ( or to taste )

Dash pepper ( or to taste )

2 teaspoons dried thyme

2 apples ( peeled, cored, and quartered )

1 small onion ( cut lengthwise into 1/4 - inch - wide strips )

1 tablespoon salt ( mixed with 1 cup water )

For the Gravy:

2 tablespoons goose drippings

2 tablespoons all - purpose flour

1 ( 14 - ounce ) can chicken broth ( or homemade chicken stock )

Optional: salt

Optional: pepper

Optional: dried thyme

*Steps To Make It

Note: while there are multiple steps to this recipe, this dish is broken down into workable categories to help you better plan for preparation and cooking.

*Make the Goose

1. Gather the Ingredients.

2. Heat oven to 350 F.

3. Wash and dry the goose, like you would a chicken or turkey. Sprinkle salt, pepper, and thyme inside the cavity and fill with apple quarters and onions. If they don’t all fit, you can cook them alongside the goose in a small, buttered dish.

4. Mix 1 tablespoon salt with 1 cup of water and pour that into the bottom of the roasting pan. Place the roasting rack on top. Pierce the goose skin in several places to let the fat drip out as it cooks.

5. Put the goose, breast - side down, on the roasting rack and place in oven for 50 minutes. Use the salt water mixture to baste the goose several times during this period. Add more water to drip pan if necessary. Turn the goose over onto its back and cook, basting as needed, for 50 minutes.

6. Let the goose rest for 5 minutes as you make the gravy.

*Make the Gravy

1. Gather the ingredients.

2. Mix 2 tablespoons of the fat drippings with 2 tablespoons flour in a small saucepan and cook for 1 minute. Gradually add the chicken broth, stirring well after each addition. Add salt, pepper, and thyme, if desired, to taste. Keep warm.

3. Serve the goose and gravy with canned peach halves decorated with currant jelly ( if you don't want to make currant jelly or can't find it prepared, cranberry sauce is a fine substitute ), buttered Brussels sprouts, potato croquettes ( or mashed potatoes ), and the cooked apples and onions.

***

❄ Three Wishes ❄

***

V

***

A plump, elderly woman with very gentle and motherly features clapped her hands and addressed everyone in the room. "Let's get to work, everyone!"

"Let's go, V." You told the poet as you motioned for him to follow you into one of the classrooms.

At first, V didn't understand it when you said you needed someone to play the violin during a book reading session. But, now, he understood. Turned out you're working as a teacher in a kindergarten a few blocks away from Avery's mansion. 

Well, for one thing, V could totally imagine you spending your time around lots of children who adore you and play a lot with you. He felt you were just that perfect kind of person in this type of working environment: warm, caring, protective, nurturing,...

... loving,...

I wonder how she would be like as a mother of,...?

"Here it is." V was brought back from his musings and reverie when you handed him your partner's violin, which you were carefully carrying.

The poet examined the instrument and hummed in satisfaction. But, then,...

"I have a question." V quietly asked.

You hummed in question as you positioned yourself in front of the cabinet piano.

"Why did she leave this here?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean, this instrument. This actually looks," He muttered, once again looking at the delicate instrument in his hands. " ... very well taken care of. I can't imagine someone just leaving an instrument like this here."

"Oh, you're a keen observer." You answered as you took out the sheet music you bought from the music store with V from your (F/C) hand bag. "My partner never really tells me anything too personal, actually. But, one day, she just,... I don't know,... kind of became depressed.

"She stopped practicing the violin, which was affecting our work in a way. I wanted to help her so, I asked. And you know what she said? She just said, it's hard to love someone who could never love you back, you know? I actually never knew if she had a boyfriend, or not but, all I know is that there was this really tall guy with white hair who used to visit her. Then, for some reason, he stopped visiting her. A day later after we talked, she asked for a short break. And, here we are!

"It was kind of intriguing, really." You said as you shrugged your shoulders. 

“It sure is.” V answered as he thought of the violin’s owner, who must be tending to a broken heart as of the moment. "Love can do many things to you. It could lift you up to the highest of heavens, and one wrong move, it could drop you to ground without you ever knowing it."

“Then, she must have one heck of a fall from the highest of heavens.”

"Hmm. Well," V replied as he plucked the strings of the instrument to check how much it was off tune. " ... who am I to judge?"

"Yeah, me too." You sighed, allowing yourself to slouch as some unsavory experiences regarding that stupid thing called love came back to haunt you. Forcefully pushing those thoughts aside, you sat up straight and hit the C note on the piano. "Let's practice, V."

A few hours later, the place began filling up with excited little children in cute, fluffy sweaters together with their parents. The faculty members, which consisted of the kindergarten's headmistress called Sister Christina ( the retired catechist from Germany who cooked most of the meals for the feast later on ), the teachers Alicia ( a sweet young lady from Spain who did the colorful and really festive decorations ) and Natasha ( a very tall, very lovely and very haughty - looking Russian who made the desserts ), you ( the music teacher ), together with the invited guests V ( who was honestly overwhelmed by the presence of all these adorable little children ), Avery ( who took a day off from work just to participate in the event ), and Nico ( who was doing something pretty suspicious in her van together with Griffon and Shadow ) all greeted the children and parents and made them gather in one of the classrooms. The program started off with a prayer by Sister Christina, followed by a simple, little opening speech from Alicia. 

V watched in awe as the little children ( now wearing cute costumes ) performed with so much energy. Some of them danced ( there was this adorable little number from a group of sugar plum fairy princesses and a fawn prince ), some of them sang ( he couldn't help but smile as they did a Christmas medley of Hark The Herald Angels Sing, Away In A Manger, and Joy To The World ), and some of them even acted out some scenes from Frozen, playing as its popular characters ( the most famous act was the one from, of course, Elsa the Ice Queen ).

And then, there was this little boy ( who was in his early nineties costume ) who came forward and simply bowed down. A resounding aww was heard all over the place from both parents and teachers, and when he took a deep, exaggerated breath, everything went silent.

"The Lamb." The little boy announced with his clear voice, then bowed once more. It surely perked up V's interest in an instant, being a huge fan of William Blake, himself.

Blake at such a young age? He thought with such admiration. How commendable!

"Little Lamb who made thee, dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life and bid thee feed. By the stream and o'er the mead."

"Aww, how cute is that?" V heard you whisper next to him.

The little boy went on. "Gave thee clothing of delight, softest clothing woo - "

"Woo?" You whispered, realizing that the child was probably forgetting the poem.

The poor boy shook his head and tried to recite once more. "Gave thee clothing of delight, softest clothing woo,... wool,... wooloo,... "

"Wooloo?" Avery, who was sitting on the floor right next to you, questioned. "Isn't that a Pokémon?"

"Oh, no!" V saw you awkwardly divert your eyes as you were unable to bear the situation. 

"Gave thee clothing of delight, softest clothing woo,... wooloo,... " The little boy tried once more to recite. He was about to give up as he became more and more frustrated with his inability to pronounce the word properly, until his eyes landed on V, who was smiling at him while pointing at his own lips. And as the little boy looked at V, he noticed the way he was forming his lips, like he was saying something,...

Woo,... lee,... V mouthed. 

The smart child picked up on this immediately and went on with his poetry. "Gave thee clothing of delight, softest clothing wooly bright."

The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief as the boy finally remembered the lines. Smiling wide from ear to ear, he went on, "Gave thee such a tender voice, making all the vales rejoice! Little Lamb who made thee, dost thou know who made thee?"

Cheers erupted from the crowd as the little boy finished his recital. After the little program, everyone proceeded to the canteen to partake of the feast that was prepared for all of them, the German Christmas Goose dish that was lovingly made by Sister Christina being the center of attention ( it was very well noted how Griffon felt horrified looking at the poultry meal on the table, which made Nico almost collapse in wild laughter ).

About two hours of feasting later, all the guests were gathered into the same classroom, this time, for the book reading session that you and V were preparing for.

The story was about Little Red Riding Hood, and how she escaped the wolf who pretended to be her grandmother to eat her. And the main protagonist was played by none other than Avery, herself.

"One morning," Alicia read as you started playing simple notes on the piano. " ... Little Red Riding Hood asked her mother if she could go to visit her grandmother as it had been awhile since they'd seen each other. That's a good idea! her mother said. So they packed a nice basket for Little Red Riding Hood to take to her grandmother. When the basket was ready, the little girl put on her red cloak and kissed her mother goodbye.

"Remember, go straight to Grandma's house, her mother cautioned. Don't dawdle along the way and please don't talk to strangers! The woods are dangerous.

"Don't worry, mommy, said Little Red Riding Hood, I'll be careful. But when Little Red Riding Hood noticed some lovely flowers in the woods, she forgot her promise to her mother. She picked a few, watched the butterflies flit about for awhile, listened to the frogs croaking and then picked a few more. Little Red Riding Hood was enjoying the warm summer day so much, that she didn't notice a dark shadow approaching out of the forest behind her,...

"Suddenly, the wolf appeared beside her!"

The little children, who gathered around Alicia, gasped in fright as Shadow, who was strangely, and yet cleverly, disguised as a wolf, appeared and growled. The overall tense atmosphere of the book reading session was amplified by V's skillfully ominous violin playing.

"What are you doing out here, little girl? The wolf asked in a voice as friendly as he could muster." Alicia went on as V played the violin.

"I'm on my way to see my Grandma who lives through the forest, near the brook." Avery replied. 

"Then she realized how late she was and quickly excused herself, rushing down the path to her Grandma's house." Alicia read. "The wolf, in the meantime, took a shortcut. The wolf, a little out of breath from running, arrived at Grandma's and knocked lightly at the door."

"Oh, thank goodness dear! Come in, come in!" Griffon, who was ridiculously dressed in gingham clothing and a pair of glasses to look like a grandma, acted out as he waited in his makeshift prop bed in one corner of the room. Then, with slight frustration, he whispered, "How the fuck did I end up dressed like this?"

"Ya, stupid chicken!" Nico, who was positioned behind the bed and hidden from the viewers, whispered savagely as she kicked the wooden prop, making Griffon squawk. "Ye're pretendin' to be a grandma, right?!"

"Oh, sheesh! Right! Ah," projecting his voice once more as he made it sound like an elderly woman, he spoke, " ... I was worried sick that somethin' had happened to ya in the forest."

"Said Grandma thinking that the knock was from her granddaughter." Alicia went on. "The wolf let himself in! Poor Granny did not have time to say another word, before the wolf gobbled her up!"

"Watch out, granny goose! The wolf is gonna eat you!" One of the children screamed and pointed as Shadow attacked Griffon and used her powers to swallow the screaming ( and swearing ) demonic bird whole.

"Nice effects!" Complimented one of the parents. "I wonder how they did that,..."

"The wolf let out a satisfied burp, and then poked through Granny's wardrobe to find a nightgown that he liked. He added a frilly sleeping cap, and for good measure, dabbed some of Granny's perfume behind his pointy ears." Alicia read as Shadow did all those things that she just mentioned. "A few minutes later, Red Riding Hood knocked on the door.  The wolf jumped into bed and pulled the covers over his nose."

"Who is it?" This time, someone from the faculty was voicing the wolf, and not Alicia, and it sounded suspiciously strange for a female teacher. It almost sounded like someone's husky - voiced middle - aged aunt,...

"It's me, Little Red Riding Hood." Avery acted.

"Oh, how lovely! Do come in, my dear," croaked Shadow.

"When Little Red Riding Hood entered the little cottage, she could scarcely recognize her Grandmother." Alicia read as you and V stopped playing for a while, plunging the whole classroom in silence.

"Grandmother! Your voice sounds so odd. Is something the matter?" Avery asked.

"Oh, I just have touch of a cold." Squeaked Shadow, adding a cough at the end to prove the point.

"But, Grandmother! What big ears you have!" Said Avery, exaggerating each word, as she edged closer to the bed.

"The better to hear you with, my dear." Replied Shadow.

"But, Grandmother! What big eyes you have!"

"The better to see you with, my dear."

"But, Grandmother! What big teeth you have!" Said Avery, making her voice quiver slightly.

"The better to eat you with, my dear!" Roared Shadow and she leapt out of the bed and began to chase Avery, making the little children yell excitedly as you and V began playing once more.

"Help! Wolf!" Avery, who was suppressing her laughter, pretended to cry as she ran around the room away from Shadow, who was doing a pretty good job of being a wolf.

"I'm here!" Nico, who was dressed as the woodsman, appeared from behind the makeshift bed and chased after Shadow. She grabbed the familiar and made her spit out poor Griffon ( now soaked in Shadow's saliva ) who was a bit frazzled by the whole experience, but still in one piece. Fortunately.

"Oh, Grandma, I was so scared!" Avery sobbed. "I'll never speak to strangers or dawdle in the forest ever again."

"There, there, child." Griffon, who still somehow managed to act despite his coughing fits, croaked. "Ye've learned an important lesson. Thank goodness ya shouted loud enough for this fuckin' woodsman to hear ya!"

"Was that fuck just now?" One of the parents whispered.

"No! You must've misheard it." Another answered. "This is a classroom! No one's allowed to swear."

"Oh, you're right! It must be an old English word from the medieval times."

Nico pretended to knock Shadow out with her prop axe and carried her away from the classroom.

"Little Red Riding Hood and her Grandmother had a nice lunch and a long chat." Alicia read. "And they lived happily ever after. The end."

The children and the parents applauded as the characters, along with Alicia, you, and V, all bowed. The book reading session was, then, followed by gift giving, and after that, you were called in front to perform one last thing on the piano.

"Hailing from the uber romantic city that is Paris, the winner of the 73rd annual European piano concours last October," Avery announced proudly. " ... I give to you - my cousin, (Y/N)."

V watched as you shyly took a seat in front of the piano once more and positioned the music sheet in the music rack. Then, with beautiful and skillful fingers, you started playing.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are." The children excitedly sang as they gathered around you in utter curiosity as you played the simple tune.

However, it was anything but. As the music progressed, V found out how complex the piece really was. It was composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, after all. It looked really difficult, indeed. Despite that, he saw how you smiled as you performed.

He saw how eager and excited you were to play for the children.

And it warmed his heart.

When it was almost time to go, Shadow and Griffon made one selfless and surprising move to serve as petting animals for the children, a Christmas treat courtesy of them.

"Hey, do those creatures kinda look dangerous?" The confused parent from earlier asked.

"Hmm, I don't think so." The parent next to him answered. "They're not biting the kids, anyway."

"Oh, you're right."

"Wait, they're battery operated!" Another parent chimed in.

"How did you know that?"

"Animals can't speak."

"Okay, gentle lads and lasses, one hug at a time!" Griffon announced, trying to be heard amidst little, excited voices and numerous, itty bitty hands. "Ouch! Don't pull a tail feather! Sheesh, calm down! I'm not a Thanksgiving turkey!"

"Did you tell them to do that?" You asked V as you watched the scene with total interest.

"Hmm, actually, no." V answered as he savored this moment to be close to you.

"Such a good child." That husky middle - aged aunt voice from earlier spoke, startling both you and V.

"Who was that?" V, who was still looking at the scene before him, asked as he crossed his arms and knitted his eyebrows.

"I have no idea." You answered. You were just as baffled as him with this whole mystery voice thing that was using Shadow as a -

"I have never been hugged by master V before!"

V's eyes darted to his familiars just in time when he saw one little girl hugging Shadow like she was a huge stuffed animal.

"So soft and cuddly!" The little girl said, then kissed Shadow on the forehead. "Thank you so much, big kitty!"

"Why, thank you, little girl." The mysterious voice answered. "And Merry Christmas to you, darling."

"My turn to hug the big kitty!" The little boy, who recited Blake earlier, came forward and engulfed Shadow in a bear hug.

"Oh! And Merry Christmas to you, too, little lad." The voice greeted just in time when V saw something tied around Shadow's neck - a red ribbon with a little, golden bell dangling from it like a dog tag. "My master is truly pleased with your William Blake recital."

Shadow's voice acting earlier,...

The voice greeting the children,...

That little bell dangling from the red ribbon tied around Shadow's neck,...

Could it mean,...

Could it be - ?!

Is it even possible?!

***

❄ Special thanks to @la-vita for suggesting the Christmas Goose Dish. ❄

❄ @clevermentalitybeliever , @v-vic , and @birdgirl69 .❄

***

❄❄❄

***

[freedomartspress]

Three Poems — Tongo Eisen Martin

Kick Drum Only

All street life to a certain extent starts fair

Sometimes with a spiritual memory even

Predawn soul-clap/ your father dying even

Maybe I’ve pushed the city too far

My sensitivities to landfill districting and minstrel whistles/

White supremacist graffiti on westbound rail guards 

-all overcome and reauthored

The garbage is growing voices

Condensed Marxism 

modal gangsterism for a warrior-depressive

Underpass in my pocket

because I am a deity

or decent bid on the Panther name 

revolutionary violence that chose its own protagonists 

or muted stage of genius

A merciful Marxism        

Disquieted home life 

Or metaphor for relaxing next to a person 

Who is relaxing next to a gun

I stare at my father for a few seconds 

Then return to my upbringing

Return to the souls of Ohio Black folks

Revolution is damn near pagan at this point

You know what the clown wants? The respect of the ant. 

Wants a pen cap full of bullets

Wants to see their ancestors in broad daylight

I am not tired of these rooms; just tired of the world that give them a relativity 

My only change of clothes prosecuted

The government has finally learned how to write poems

shoot-outs that briefly align…

that make up a parable

white bodies are paid well, I posit

do white men actually even have leaders?

all white people are white men

white men will only ever be metaphors

all I do is practice, Lord

A rat pictures a river

Can almost taste the racial divide

Can almost roll a family member’s head into a city hall legislative chamber

Knows who in this good book will fly

I have decided not to talk out of anger ever again, Lord

Met my wife at the same time I met new audience members for our pain

We passed each other cigarettes and watched cops win

A city gone uniquely linear

Harlem of the West due a true universe 

 “I will always remember you in fancy clothes,” my wife said 

so here I sit… twisting in silk ideation

  My rifle made of tar

My targets made of an honest language

This San Francisco poetry is how God knows that it is me whining 

Writing among the lesser-respected wolves

Lesser-observed militarization

Dixie-less prison bookkeeping/I mean the California gray-coats are coming 

lynch mob gossip and bourgeois debt collection

I mean, it’s tempting to change professions mid-poem

in a Chicago briefing, a white sergeant saying, “blank slate for all of us after this Black organizer is dead.”

standard academics toasting two-buck wine at the tank parade

bay of nothing, Lord

  nuclear cobblestones, gunline athleticism  

and the last of the inherited asthma

children given white dolls to play with and fear

facial expressions borrowed from rich people’s shoe strings

I can hear hate

And teach hate

And call tools by people names

And name people dead to themselves

no one getting naturalized except federal agents soon 

carving the equator into throats soon

I’m sorry to make you relive all of this, Lord

pre-dawn monarchy 

friends putting up politician posters then snorting the remainder of the paste

minstrel scripts shoveled into the walls by their elders

my children sharpening quarters on the city’s edge

For these audiences

I project myself into a ghost like state

For these gangsters, I do the same

every now and then, we take a nervous look east

Sleep becomes Christ

Sleep starts growing a racial identity

do you ever spiral, Lord?

has the gang-age betrayed us?

be patient with my poems, Lord

So much pain

there is a point to crime… 

There has to be if race traitors come with it

 Lord, is that my revolver in your hand?

Better presidents than these have yawned at cages

Have called us holy slaves

Filled the school libraries with cop documentaries

Baby, I don’t have money for food

I have no present moment at all

/

I Do Not Know the Spelling of Money

I go to the railroad tracks

And follow them to the station of my enemies

A cobalt-toothed man pitches pennies at my mugshot negative

All over the united states, there are

Toddlers in the rock

I see why everyone out here got in the big cosmic basket

And why blood agreements mean a lot

And why I get shot back at

I understand the psycho-spiritual refusal to write white history or take the glass freeway

White skin tattooed on my right forearm 

Ricochet sewage near where I collapsed 

into a rat-infested manhood

My new existence as living graffiti 

In the kitchen with

a lot of gun cylinders to hack up

House of God in part

No cops in part

My body brings down the Christmas 

The new bullets pray over blankets made from old bullets

Pray over the 28th hour’s next beauty mark

Extrajudicial confederate statue restoration 

the waist band before the next protest poster 

By the way,

Time is not an illusion, your honor

I will return in a few whirlwinds

I will save your desk for last

You are witty, your honor

You’re moving money again, your honor

It is only raining one thing: non-white cops

And prison guard shadows 

Reminding me of

Spoiled milk floating on an oil spill

A neighborhood making a lot of fuss over its demise

A new lake for a Black Panther Party

Malcom X’s ballroom jacket slung over my son’s shoulders

Pharmacy doors mid-slide

         The figment of village

                     a noon noose to a new white preacher

Wiretaps in the discount kitchen tile

-All in an abstract painting of a president

Bought slavers some time, didn’t it?

The tantric screeches of military bolts and Election-Tuesday cars

A cold-blooded study in leg irons

Leg irons in tornado shelters

Leg irons inside your body

  Proof that some white people have actually fondled nooses

That sundown couples 

made their vows of love over   

opaque peach plastic

and bolt action audiences     

Man, the Medgar Evers-second is definitely my favorite law of science

Fondled news clippings and primitive Methodists 

My arm changes imperialisms 

Simple policing vs. Structural frenzies

Elementary school script vs. Even whiter white spectrums

Artless bleeding and

the challenge of watching civilians think

     “terrible rituals they have around the corner. They let their elders beg for public mercy…beg for settler polity”

“I am going to go ahead and sharpen these kids’ heads into arrows myself and see how much gravy spills out of family crests.”

Modern fans of war

    What with their t-shirt poems

    And t-shirt guilt

And me, having on the cheapest pair of shoes on the bus, 

I have no choice but to read the city walls for signs of my life

                                                                                     /

The Chicago Prairie Fire

First, I must apologize to the souls of the house

I am wearing the cheek bones of the mask only

Pill bottle, my name is yours

Name tagged on the side of a factory of wrists

Teeth of the mask now

Back of the head of the mask now 

        New phase of anti-anthropomorphism fending for real faces

Stuck with one of those cultures that believes I chose this family

I am not creative

Just the silliest of the revolutionaries

My blood drying on 

   my only jacket

just as God got playful

the police state’s psychic middlemen

Evangelizing for the creation of an un-masses 

An un-Medgar

Blood of a lamb less racialized

or awesome prison sentence

Good God

Elder-abuse hired for the low

dog eat genius

Right angle made between a point

On a Louisiana plantation

And 5-year old’s rubber ball 

3 feet high and falling

like a deportee plane 

to complete my interpretation 

(of garden variety genocide) 

I am small talk

about loving your enemies

A little more realistically

About paper tigers 

And also gold…

I need my left hand back 

I broke my neck on the piano keys

Found paradise in a fistfight

Maybe I should check into the Cuba line

Watching the universe’s last metronomes

some call Black Jacobins

Just wait…

These religions will start resigning in a decade or two

Some colorfully 

Some transactional-ly

In a cotton gothic society

Class betrayal gone glassless/ I mean ironically/ my window started fogging over too 

Wondering which Haiti will get me through this winter

Which poem houses souls

Which socialist breakthroughs

Breakthroughs like ten steps back

Then finally stillness

Stillness

Then stillness among families

a John Brown biography takes a bow

I’m up next to introduce Prosser to Monk

I remember childhood

Remember the word “Childhood” being a beginning 

Scribbling on an amazing grace 

I rented this body from some circumference of slavery

Remember being kicked out of the Midwest

Strange fruit theater

Lithium and circuses

Likeminded stomachs 

The ruling class blessing their blank checks with levy foam…

                            with opioid tea 

Sentient dollar bills yelling to each other pocket to pocket

Cello stands in the precinct for accompanying counterrevolutionaries 

My mother raised me with a simple pain

A poet loses his mind, you know, like the room has weather

Or first-girlfriend gravity

Police-knock gravity 

Mind-game gravity

Or revolution languishing behind 

The sugar in my good friend’s mind

“The difference between me and you

Is that the madness

Wants me forever”

A pair of apartments

Defining both my family

And political composure

Books behind my back

Bail money paved into the streets

Playing:

Euphoria

Euphoria

Cliché

Bracing for the medicine’s recoil

Sharing a dirty deli sandwich with my friends

Black Jacobins

Underground topography

Or grandmother’s hands

Psychology of the mask now

Teeth of the mask again

—

Originally from San Francisco, Tongo Eisen-Martin is a movement worker and educator who has organized against mass incarceration and extra-judicial killing of Black people throughout the United States. His latest curriculum on extrajudicial killing of Black people, We Charge Genocide Again, has been used as an educational and organizing tool throughout the country. His book of poems, Someone’s Dead Already was nominated for a California Book Award.

[podmusical]

The Ballad of GG Scrumptious, Part 1

Credits and Lyrics for Episode 7 of Days of Future Fuzz

starring:

“Narrator” - Jordan Gelber Golden George Scrumptious - Andrew Radford Butler

written by Jonathan A. Goldberg music by Matt roi Berger

recorded, mixed and edited by Marcus Bagala and Will Melones

NARRATOR

Oh hello there, what’s that?  You want a story?

Something real and true, but perhaps, too, allegory?

Oh well, let me see, let me see, let me have a drink

And think up a story worth your time - let me think-

Ah! I’ve got it, and it’s got it all!

A hero and prophecy, a warning, a fall

A promise, a history - hidden, but crucial

And a secret you’ll never guess - though maybe you will

I think you look smart, I mean, you came here to me

When you needed some fun - that’s as smart as can be.

So what do you say?  Let me lay out the scene

Let’s start at the beginning, the best place to begin:

Born beneath a lard-shaped star

The moon was in the House of Starch

(The house, by far, the fattest -

Like being born in a fry basket)

His mother labored in great pain

16 lbs, this fellow weighed

And his eyes shown like a grease stain

Skin glowed like a casserole fresh made

His mama named him Golden George

Papa Scumptious was overjoyed

Said “we’ll call him GG for short.”

He was in the kitchen by age two

Cooking breast milk cheese fondu

Had his mama spooked - but one taste she knew:

Her boy cooked naturally

Over time his talents grew

And his confidence grew too

Said he would shape the world of food,

Fast and Casually.

He sang:

GOLDEN GEORGE

My gifts know no restraints

Soon all the world will know my name

My gift to all shall be

An escape from drudgery

Via culinary artistry.

NARRATOR

So how do you like him? Guess he’s our hero

The boy with a wish and a gift… and an ego.

But this amico was on to somethin’ -

The world is bitter and cold and troublin’

But nothing’s so warm as something straight out the oven

And filling you up and giving you comfort

Adjusting your dials and pushing all your right buttons.

So why not toot his honker when he’s so much to offer?

Food and drink HEAL - and this boy was a doctor

But he needed more than a gift or a wish

He needed more than an ego - he needed a DISH.

GOLDEN GEORGE

It’s time to make my fortune

So let the world prepare

I’ll save their mouths from boredom

All other chefs beware!

I’ll keep the oil flowing

I’ll keep the oven hot

I’ll find the dish that shows them

What I’ve got!  Yeah!

Teryaki steak tips!

Buttered sweetbread fries

Cheese-laced onion blossom

Ranch on the side

Now, here’s my masterpiece! It’s

Piled high with 7 cheeses

What taste, what artistry

Baked Macaroni - I’m a genius!

NARRATOR

And though it sounds simple, and maybe you laugh

That macaroni pasta put GG on the map

That macaroni pasta was better than yours by half

His use of thousand island dressing WAS astounding

Over seven layers of cheeses, french AND italian

And one that might be Russian but ain’t NO body telling

Mm mm!

See, the recipe’s a secret, and GG’s smart to keep it

Cuz everyone wanted what that bastard was selling

The momentum of this dish on every wish list

Was enough to propel him to the highest echelon

Of chef’s and give him what they all were eyeing:

FRANCHISING!

But as GG sat in his kitchen, in Centralia New Jersey

Sizing up contracts, showered in glory

He felt a worry, an itch left un scratched

He was lost in the dark, lost his spark, all seemed black.

Something ached in his twice baked heart

Tho his macaroni was a work of art

All that work felt artless heartless

See, at the top, the drop’s all you got left

Now, his hostess was a beauty queen

Named Melanie Marie Manzine

Triple M saw GG’s depression

And so she pulled him near to tell him:

TRIPLE M

“I watched you build this place -

The joy that played across your face.

Why not give everyone

A taste thereof

Fill your menu with that joy and fun.”

GOLDEN GEORGE

Fun?  Yeah,

NARRATOR

thought GG,

GOLDEN GEORGE

that’s the one!

The ingredient I had, but since had shunned

I’ve been so high on my own hot air

I’ve lost the fun that got me there.

Food should always be fun!

It’s entertainment for tongues!

That was obvious once

But I was blind I was dumb

As to what I’d become!

Goodbye to former pursuits!

Better to give and include!

Without further ado, I present you

A place where the food can always lighten the mood

The all new GG Scrumptious, where fun is always on the menu!

NARRATOR

Well, you can guess what happened next

Oh, you can’t?  Well here it is:

GG rethought the plot of his vocation

He let go of the top and focused on elation

The silly joy and fun of stuffing your face and

Drinking your weight in

Milkshakes and

When his restaurant reopened after a short renovation

It was a success!  He was met with adulation,

And opened up franchises in 7000 plus locations!

GOLDEN GEORGE

GG Scrumptious, where fun is always on the menu!

NARRATOR

And he married his muse! Yes he truly fell for

That clever, wild woman who’d been running the door.

Triple M and double G had their lives intertwined

By a wild west rabbi named Tex Rubenstein

Beneath a papermache macaroni

In the most beautiful mixed-denominational ceremony

GOLDEN GEORGE

Finally everything is right

I love my work, I love my wife

This is more than I ever could have hoped for

TRIPLE M

[Crying]

GOLDEN GEORGE

What’s this?  My love, why do you cry?

Tell me and I will make it right!

There is no worry we’ve in sight

TRIPLE M

“GG, I’m pregnant!”

NARRATOR

What?  You don’t feel the tension?

Yes of course a child’s a blessing

It’s just - oh, I get the impression

You’re missing a key component to our hero’s depression.

So, for a second let’s leave the present.  

It’s time for a little history lesson…

Long ago when the world was young

When the restaurant game had not yet begun

Casual eateries didn’t exist

And the only fast food was that you couldn’t catch

If early man sought something good to eat (yeah!)

He’d best fall down on his knees and pray to the gods of drink and feast.

It was the perfect way,

And would still be today, but…

A lesser god of feast was this gal Edesia

Ha - your face betrays you never heard the name.

You missed nothing if you never met her

Though she thought she was an up and comer in game

She made a plan to be

The greatest god of food and drink in history

She’d show humans the holy ways

And thus secure their love and praise

Till the end of days

Well she didn’t wait more than a thousand years

When a man hit bottom and her chance appeared

A failing chef named Ray of the Romulus line

Stumbled in and begged at the foot of her shrine

He wanted fame and a chance to succeed

He was a fine mix of talent and greed

She saw her play

And she didn’t delay

Gave him a vision:

Her, descending on the gravy rain.

The salty brown drops

Washed his pain away

And she offered him the deal

That saw the world changed

In her vision, she said to him:

EDESIA

“Oh Ray unknown, how your talent and your pallet go to waste

As well you know, Gods tip the balance, and in their talons grip your fate

In this market how can you make

Your name known?  Oh no!

But I’ve a deal that, if you should take,

Your fame will grow, and grow, and grow!

I see your wonder, see the hunger in your eyes

With my secrets you’ll stun ‘em be their culinary prize

All that I charge of you

Is never have a child - your praise alone is mine

Yes, no children shall you bear

Though many will you claim as hairs in time

Yes the king of food for all your days

The people will taste and they will praise

O’er all you’ll reign, you’ll not be done

You’ll rise so long as the sun has rays

You’ll rise so long as the sun has rays

You’ll rise so long as the sun has rays

And only set when the Rays have son.”

NARRATOR

You’ll rise so long as the sun has rays

And only set when the Rays have son.

Well Ray thought that sounded mighty fair -

A heavenly answer to his despair.

He bowed in praise, swore his faith blindly

Which, for gods, is legally binding

Ran down to town to his deep fried peacock eye food cart

In an hour he’d sold out, he was the talk of the town, his food a work of art!

And it grew and it grew and it grew and it grew

And Ray learned the secret that the Gods all knew

And he used them to create a new empire

Food that’s fun served fast, with cheer

Paired with a casual atmosphere

Fills all with food, yes, true, but too - delight!

People could not get enough

They came to get their faces stuffed

How nice! … for Ray…

The gods of food and drink were forgot

Edesia too, it seems her plot

Backfired.

And Ray looked down over all he commanded

By his death, to 1042 locations had he expanded

And as the ages changed, so did Ray’s descendants menus

As they took the empire to new, exciting venues

The Visigoth Grill, Crusader’s Crudo

Pita the Great, Dynasty Noodles

The Original Scythian Style Pub

Bennigans, Arby’s and Stubbie’s Subs

Mongol Flay It Yourself Easy Horse

And on and on til present day, of course.

And the most powerful chain on down that line

Was the Ray’s Pizza Franchise

Featuring Real Ray’s, Original Ray’s, Real Original Ray’s

Famous Ray’s, Infamous Ray’s and Ray’s of other Names

From the first Ray’s cart, this chain had continued

And you could still order peacock eyes off the secret menu.

And they ruled all the franchises with an iron fist

Ah - but how did Ray’s have heirs, if Ray’s never did have kids…?

Listen to this:

Oh it was all part of Edesia’s promise

Which was so poorly thought out it was almost comic

The contract was written up by the best lawyer of the time

Marcus Legislatus, and the print was very fine

As his wife had written it all by hand

And Marcus had married the most beautiful cricket in all the land!

But we don’t have time for that part!

What matters is the deal at this vile contract’s heart:

The Ray to Play Stipulation…

…which stated

That any chain restaurant whose owner mated

Forfeited their first born child to the Rays

Or they handed in their restaurants - either way, they all paid.

And the chains turned over became the Ray’s

And the children turned over - well, the Ray’s they became

Many chains tried to avoid this doom:

Ray Kroc hid his son in a Grimace costume

Papa John put Baby John in a basket of reeds

Dave Thomas sent Wendy to live in a tree

But each was found out, and each child was claimed

And through old, evil magic, was changed to a Ray…

Mama chef, papa chef, RUN! Hide your child away.

Look how the Rays come, on the 5th birthday of,

Oh!, what you most love, they’re gonna take away, and,

Oh!, what you most love -They’re gonna make a Ray.

They’ll file in, eat up all that you’ve got

And you must feed them your best - whether you wanna or not.

Then when they’re done - oh! - that’s when you give ‘em either

The first child of your blood, or all of your franchises

All that you’ve built, oh!, is it worth the pain

Worth all the guilt - oh - to see your child a Ray?

Many parents chose of course their child to keep

But many a chef was overcome with greed

And that’s how the Rays stayed on top of the game

And that about brings us up to date.

So now you may be keen

To the fear that chilled GG

When Mel

Said that she was with son…

All he’d made, all he’d created

Was to crumble lest he gave their

Son…

What was to be done…

GOLDEN GEORGE

My dear please dry your tears

You’ve nought to fear for our son’s life…

Let the Rays take all I’ve made,

I promise I won’t contemplate

The trade of child for franchise…

NARRATOR

Well, Triple M was overjoyed

But you and me, we know our boy

GG’s not the sort

To sell himself short

He doesn’t give - he takes!

And he’d fight, he might even tempt fate…

Sure he’d changed his ways,

But to give up everything he’d made?? it-

Was a thought that repulsed him, everything he hated.

Well GG Jr came short months later

And his parents love - well, it couldn’t have been greater

And though GG’d been conflicted on what was to be done.

He’d greatly underestimated how much he’d love his son.

GOLDEN GEORGE

Feel how his smile calms me

See how his hands are strong

He’ll be flipping frying pans before too long!

God, he’s such a nat’ral!

See him with that spatula!

One day all that I’ve made will be… no…

NARRATOR

Yes…

And two weeks before lil G turned 5

A letter came in the mail, said “It’s Time.

We march your way in 14 days.

Prepare our feast.  Signed, the Rays.”

Outside there was a storm, but there was a knock at the door

GG turned and saw dripping on his floor

A chef, clad all in mauve

How’d the man get inside?  GG worried this was bad

But the chef simply smiled and acted as if he had

All the answers in the world.  And GG eased, suddenly calm.

He offered the Mauve Chef a drink, but then the chef dropped a bomb:

He looked GG in the eye

And the Mauve Chef said:

MAUVE CHEF

“I can save your son

Save all that you’ve done

But you must be brave,

No matter the pain

And do as I say.”

To be continued…

[get2del-taco]

I’d kill for a big ole basket of French fries with Gravy, chili, cheese, fresh chives and tomato’s on top. I just know that would fix my severe depression. I just know it.

Instead I’m gonna go home and make chicken because I’m supposed to be “healthy” or whatever.

Fuckin bullshit

[the1rei]

Bloomin' Ross pt67

The date is one, first are always the hardest.  a few lifted lines. 

<<< First Post  <<Prev Post - Next Post >>

The stars above hung in a perfect tapestry the sky clear, free of clouds allowing the full bright moon to shine down on the streets of Corona illuminating them in its soft light.  The ships in the bay were still, and the undisturbed water reflected the stars and moon like a shimmering mirror.  

Rose couldn't quite enjoy it as she paced around the table yet again adjusting the silverware she had borrowed from a friend of her mother, assuring herself for the hundredth time that it was in the right placement.  She shifted one of the wine glasses, borrowed from another friend, a few millimeters then back again assured it was perpendicular to the other.  

Rose remembered to breathe and told herself that everything was alright and set up perfectly.  She seemed to convince herself of that for a moment at least and turned her sights on herself.  Her mother had lamented that the only even slightly fancy thing Rose had ever had to wear had been recently handed down to Claire.  The particulars of how her mother had freshly washed and dried her clothes while Rose washed and prepared the meal for the night is something Rose couldn't fathom, but they were clean, and so was she.  Her hair washed, brushed and now even dried, she was soot and sweat-free, and that was the best she could manage.  

"This is nice," Rose jumped at the sudden sound, whipping around to see Cass approaching.  She was staring out at the water watching the shimmer of the stars on the water.  Rose pinned herself against the table staring fearfully at Cass.  Suddenly this whole thing seemed like the worst plan ever and maybe if she just didn't move Cass wouldn't notice the table.  

Cass' eyes met Rose's, and the redhead tried to smile casually and seemed to deflect any potential concern for the moment.  Then Cass' eyes dropped to the table behind her, and she smiled again, "Dinner?"  

At the sight of Cass' smile, Rose filled with such euphoria that all she could do was smile, step aside, and present the table with a nod.  Cass looked at the fancy set up and blushed, glancing away shyly, "You certainly went all out."  

"W-well," Rose moved over to Cass' side of the table and nearly tripped over the chair, but catching herself, she quickly pulled out Cass' chair.  "I just wanted it to be perfect, a-as thanks for what you did."  

Cass gave a questioning look moving over to Rose who wondered if her dress always swished that much.  "For what I did?"  

"You gave up your sword to save Pyrepy."  Rose nearly gasped, wondering how Cass could have already forgotten such a thing.  She adjusted the chair to keep herself from saying anything else, the last thing Cass would like is for her to fall into a series of prostrative gratitude.  

Cass seemed to take that as another invitation to sit down and did so her eyes going to the perfect view of the water again.  "Well, I couldn't just let him hurt Pyrepy if I could have stopped him another way with my sword I would have, especially after what he did to the guards."  

"How are they?"  Rose asked lifting up the picnic basket she had placed under the table up and opened it taking out a pair of covered plates and placing one in front of Cass and the other in her own place.  As Rose extracted the covered red-hot pitcher from the basket with one of her dragon scale gloves Cass told her that both of the guards who had been at the gate had left the service, the younger one had been admitted to a sanitarium due to the severity of his depression.  The skinny guard's muscles had lost all their tensile strength; the doctors thought that after years of therapy he might be able to stand on his own again.  The deafened one would probably never hear again though no one could understand why.  There had been no sign of the one that had disappeared; he was simply gone.  

"I'm sorry," Rose somberly apologized as she lifted the covering from Cass' plate.  Beneath was a mix of roasted vegetables and meat upon which she poured the steaming hot sauce, flavoring and warming the meal.  Then she did the same to her own.  "I know how much the guards mean to you."  

"Thanks," Cass tried to smile, but it faltered quickly.  Rose opened a bottle of wine, curiosity of  Xavier, given under the that a least a little would be returned to him to sample.  She poured Cass and herself a glass as Cass continued, "I know it's probably mean to say, but it's just part of the job.  We risk our lives to protect people, that's the job, we can't exactly complain if we're left with our lives intact, even if we lose something else."  

Sitting Rose watched anger and regret play across Cass' face and without much thought reached across the table and laid a hand on Cass'.  "I get that, but I hope that when you achieve your dream that you will stay safe.  I don't want anything to happen to you."  

Cass gave the slightest start at the touch but smiled confidently and pulling her hand back raised her arm to flex her muscle.  "Don't worry; I'm going to be the finest guard there ever was.  No criminal is ever going to be able to touch me.  I'll never be caught with my guard down."  

Rose smiled back her heart swelling with pride, "I know you will."  

Cass blushed again and seemed almost abashed by Rose's confidence in her.  She tucked her hair back and seemed to sink a little into the chair.  "This smells wonderful, no surprises there." Cass chuckled taking up a fork and gingerly stabbing one of the potatoes.  She brought it up to her mouth, the cool food and hot gravy combining perfectly into the right temperature for eating.  Cass took a bite, and her eyes rolled up in her head, and she melted into her chair.  

"Do you like it?"  Rose asked nervously wondering if the meat and vegetables had kept well despite going cold and being warmed back up by the sauce.  

"It's the best, really," Cass assured her suddenly ravenous, or at least as much as her manners would allow.  Seeing Cass enjoy the food was way more calming then and assurances the other young woman could give.  Rose grew only more comfortable as meal continued and they chatted like old friends, which Rose had to admit they were now, though she wished to be more.  Still, she was so confident now that when Cass said, "That was the best thankyou ever," Rose didn't hesitate.  

"The dinner was just part of what I wanted to do to thank you," Rose admitted, And Cass watched her curiously as she got up and hurried to grab a hidden bundle she had placed behind the end of the stone wall next to which their table sat next.  Rose was almost giddy as she hurried back and brought her chair around so that she was right next to Cass.  "There also this."

Cass took the bundle from Rose almost automatically, "You didn't have to do all this."  Cass assured her to which Rose, as expected said that she had wanted to.  Knowing it was useless to protest Cass laid the bundle on her lap and pulled the cloth back revealing a gleaming sword its pommel a blooming rose.  Cass stared in awe at it for several seconds, and anxiety clawed at Rose's chest in the silence.  After a while Cass reached for the sword and lifted it, steeling her hand to hold it straight.  "It's so light."  

"It's made from folded steel," Rose said and blushed and looked away shyly when Cass gave her a surprised look.  "I haven't been able to perfect it yet, the steel of the sword was folded only three times.  It was a fluke that I even managed to do that; it's supposed to be done like a hundred times.  Anyway since there fewer impurities it's lighter, I call it Razor."  

"Razor Rose," It sounded like Cass was correcting her, but when Rose looked back up at her, she was smiling and holding up the pommel to show Rose.  "It's your work; it should be named after you."  

Rose smiled and sniffed rubbing away a tear, "All right, but I get to name the next one after you."  

Cass chuckled too, and it turned into a laugh that they shared for a moment.  Rose laugher died first, and she watched Cass, delighted face and suddenly Rose didn't feel worried anymore.  She leaned in towards Cass, inching her face towards the other women's.  

Cass laugh died down, and her eyes met Rose's and grew wide knowing what she wanted.  There wasn't only a fraction of an inch between her and Cass; Rose could smell Cass breath as she panted nervously and felt the heat of her body.  Then suddenly Cass' lips retreated and the sound of the chair scraping across the stone floor startled Rose.  

"S-sorry Rose, It's getting late, and I promised my dad I wouldn't be out too late."  Cass shot up from the chair and was out from between Rose, and she shot wall in an instant.  Rose clenched her teeth at her stupidity; she had gotten way ahead of herself this time and ruined the date.  A hand on her shoulder snapped her out of the self-flagellation, and she looked up to find Cass not blushing, but still smiling, "I had fun, we should do this again, soon."  

Rose smile brighter than the sun, "It would be my pleasure."