#legally-blind photographer

[thephoblographer]

Celebrate Braille Day With 8 Visually Impaired Photographers and Their Stunning Works

Photography, as an art form, is entirely dependent on vision. But what happens when you don’t see the world as you should? While this may sound like the end of a career to many, it, in fact, is not. So, on this Braille Day, we are bringing you a round-up to showcase the creativity, rigor, and dedication of visually impaired photographers and those who have issues with their vision. We do hope…

[kingkatsuki]

— blind justice

Warnings: 18+, obsessive Higuruma, stalking, voyuerism .

You and Higuruma have never really met, but he feels like he knows you by now. Or at least — he knows a lot about you.

He knows what you do for a living, what you like to do outside of work, where you shop for groceries, and of course your favourite coffee shop — even down to your exact order. He’s also memorised your exact commute to and from work (which leads him to one of the seedier areas in Tokyo (something that fills him with dread each time you leave work a little later than usual).

Higuruma remembers the exact moment he was approached to defend your now ex-boyfriend. A seemingly good guy on paper with no prior convictions and unequivocally adamant that you were a scorned girlfriend trying to ruin his life when he’d tried to break up with you.

Higuruma couldn’t help but notice how pretty you are when you sat in front of him in the court room. An inexplicable ebb began to form in the pit of his stomach as he began to tear your story down brick by brick in front of the judge and jury, countering all your answers in defense of his client until he noticed you were holding back tears.

Of course, Higuruma won the case and the man was free to go.

But it wasn’t even a month later that another file sat in front of Higuruma on his desk. The same man he had defended before was asking for his help again as he was now facing prison time. Higuruma flicked through the pages to read the new charge — assault. Paired with a photograph of his victim.

You.

The first thing Higuruma noticed now he could admire you up close was that you had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen — even when they were filled with fear as you stared hopelessly up at the camera. A dark bruise bloomed across your cheekbone as he noticed a slight gash beneath it from what he could only summise to be caused by a ring. You looked completely defeated, and it was his fault. He’d been the one to get your ex-boyfriend off with a slap on the wrist so that he was able to hurt you again, and he hated himself for it.

In that moment Higuruma had the most intense urge to protect you.

Some of the information about you was easier to find than others. Of course it had helped that your full name and address had been included in the case file, skimming your deposition as he learned about the abuse you’d endured at the hands of this lowlife. It had Higuruma’s heart churning in his chest, only adding to his disillusionment of the legal system when he’d discovered you’d reported this man at least six times. And yet this seemed to be the second time he’d ever been taken to court for something. The rest of the charges dropped for lack of evidence.

And he’d blindly defended your ex-boyfriend in court in the name of justice, but the justice he was so set on fighting for had not been served. And guilt began to seep into his veins as he glanced back at the photographs of you covered in bruises — it was all his fault.

But he’d make it right.

Higuruma wouldn’t consider this stalking — perhaps following you to and from work was a little unorthodox, but it’s not like the police were doing anything to protect you. And at least the other locations could be attributed to shared interests — everyone loves a coffee shop right?

The trial had made things more difficult, and he was certain his license would be in jeopardy if you found out what he was doing, so for now it was what he needed to do to keep you safe.

Especially when you’ve just got out of a relationship with an absolute sleazebag of a boyfriend — if it could even be classified as a relationship. The file detailed a tumultuous relationship that seemed to often end with you hurt, some scars worse than others as Higuruma wished he could just hold you in his arms.

So until then, he’d look after you.

He could admit sometimes he enjoys a break from his office when he leaves to find you in a local pub with your friends. Nursing a glass of whisky at the bar while you sat down drinking with your friends, admiring the pretty dresses and skirts that you always seemed to wear. His dark eyes glaring daggers at any man that even glanced in your direction when you leaned against the bar to order another round, your skirt creeping up your thighs. And if Higuruma was any less of a man, he definitely would have looked—

The neon lights of his alarm clock began to flash as the incessant beep rung out in his bedroom as he’d seemingly stayed up all night to find out more about you. There was at least three weeks until the court date, and your ex-boyfriend was out on bail for no prior convictions — that was three weeks too long.

He found himself delving deeper, losing himself in time while bleary eyes continued to stare at his laptop screen, scrolling through years of your social media. Your most recent post detailed how terrified you were about sleeping in your apartment alone and that every noise kept you up at night, and Higuruma knew then what he had to do, especially when the legal system was failing you — he had failed you.

He’d failed you in the courtroom so this time he had to protect you.

It’s why he’d ended up slipping an AirTag inside your purse one evening during your commute home, a device that you still hadn’t seemed to find (and even more reason why you needed him) as he kept his notifications on for you. Leaving his office early whenever he saw you were on the move, following obediently as he found himself falling into your routine.

His favourite was always the weekends you’d indulge in a bubble bath. Finding himself relaxed in the opposite high rise with a pack of smokes as he watched you completely unaware that he could see through the sheer curtains in your bedroom as you came out of the bathroom surrounded in a dewy glow. Settling your feet against the sheets of your bed as you smoothed cream along your supple thighs.

You’d have to forgive him for fisting his cock at the sight of you. Biting back a gruff grunt as he pictured sliding inside your warm, wet cunt. Molding you into the shape of him so you’d never be able to remember all the other guys that you’d been with before, feeling your pliant walls clamp down around his length as he made you cum before filling you up with his spend. Sighing when warm rivulets of cum would ooze out of his thick cock, coating his and and thighs as he pictured how pretty you’d look with it drooling out of your tightness instead.

What he wouldn’t give for just a feel of you — and perhaps you’d let him as a special thank you for diligently looking after you.

And so what if your ex-boyfriend had already been sentenced this time and was finally doing time for his abuse and stalking — why would Higuruma want to stop following you? He’d ensure that no one else ever had the opportunity to lay a finger on you ever again.

Especially when your taste in men seemed to be far less than savory. Rolling his eyes at the way you perked up when another asshole approached you on a night out with friends a few weeks later. Giving you a casual smile with his hand resting on the curve of your back, dangerously close to your ass. Hiromi would snap his fingers clean off for even touching you like this, you were far too delicate.

Downing the rest of his whisky as he followed the man out of the bar when he left for a smoke. Towering over him as he shoved him down a dirty alley at the side of the building to threaten him with a flurry of possible charges that could come out of one night with you — something that was far too easy to do when you’re in his line of work.

Finishing off his own cigarette as he watched you look around the street for the man you were supposed to be going home with tonight to see he was now nowhere to be seen. Higuruma watched in satisfaction as he crushed the butt of his cigarette beneath his sole. Getting ready to follow you home alone.

After all, you can never be too careful these days… there’s just so many creeps about.

[thicc-astronaut]

liminal horror where you get digitally sent a series of disturbing images, but you're a legally blind person using a screen reader and it's just audio saying shit like "image id: photograph of the front door of your home" or "image id: big scary monster" or "image id: the face of your girlfriend distorted into an unfamiliar shape" and you never get to actually see any of it just hear a text-to-speech voice describing it

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write - Day 94 🔞

Prompt: Straight Sex (blame @m-is-mickey for the suggestion) - Juyeon x Giselle (Aeri)

Tags: Unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids), lewds/nudes, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms

A/N: I picked Aespa’s Giselle because she & Winter did a TikTok with Juyeon & Eric. My other option was Illit, but shockingly people get their asses on their shoulders if you ship a legal member of a group if there’s any underage members. Whatever. All of Aespa is legal. Let’s move on, shall we? This is separate from both the Hyunjin & Jumil Cheating Universes.

Aeri-bae: WYD? 😘

Juyeon picked up his phone when it went off on his bedside table.

Juyeon: Lying in bed. Why?

A pause.

Aeri-bae: Naked? 😏

Juyeon snorted.

Juyeon: Has anyone told you that you think like a guy?

Aeri-bae: Regularly. Wanna fuck then get ramen?

He definitely couldn’t turn that down. Half the group was out of the country and everyone else had gone to bed. He could leave without being interrogated. The girls had just moved into a new dorm and all of them knew to turn a blind eye when Juyeon showed up.

Juyeon: Be there in 10

Aeri-bae: Make it 7. I’m soaking my sheets already

Juyeon’s cock stirred at the thought of Aeri with her pussy out and dripping. Juyeon grabbed a sweater, his wallet, and keys and was out the door. If the traffic was in his favor and he caught the bus at the right time, he could get to their dorm in 7 minutes. Everything worked in his favor. Jimin opened the door and rolled her eyes when she saw him.

”You know where to go,” she sighed as she let him in.

”Thanks,” Juyeon grinned. “We’ll try to keep it down.”

”I got earplugs after last time,” she replied. Juyeon went down the hall and knocked on Aeri’s door. He heard rustling then she peeked out from behind the door. “Close your eyes. I have a surprise.”

”Okay,” he agreed and she pulled him into her room by his wrist.

”Open,” she said. He opened his eyes to see her standing in front of him in a black lace lingerie set. There were no panties, just a garter belt, and the bra barely qualified for the term.

”Holy fuck,” he breathed.

”I want you to take some pictures before we get started. Something we can both enjoy when we can’t see each other,” she told him.

”With what?” He asked dumbly, still trying to take in the sight in front of him. He noticed a distinct glisten on Aeri’s inner thighs.

”Your phone works, doesn’t it?” She teased.

”You want me to take pictures of you in lingerie and have them on my phone?” He asked.

”In progressively less and less lingerie to be specific and I can show you how to encrypt the folder,” Aeri replied. “All the other boys were very enthusiastic.”

Juyeon knew they weren’t exclusive. They’d agreed on that early on.

”How many others?” Juyeon asked.

”Four, but you’re my favorite. And the only one I let raw me,” She grinned, climbing back on the bed. She made a point of crawling so he could see how wet her pussy was. He was dying to get a taste of her before he fucked her.

”I’m flattered,” he said as he stripped to his underwear.

”You should be,” she replied and leaned back on the bed. Juyeon began taking pictures as she posed. Then she reached back and pulled the bra off, leaving her tits exposed.

”You -,” he began.

”Keep going. I’m gonna be naked by the time this little photo shoot is done,” she said.

“Okay,” he nodded, already starting to feel pussy drunk and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Juyeon kept taking pictures until Aeri was completely naked and reclined on the bed, casually rubbing her pussy.

”Let me see,” she held out her free hand. Juyeon gave her his phone and she swiped through the pictures. “You’re also a better photographer.”

”Thanks,” he said as she handed him his phone back.

“Have I tortured you long enough?” She asked.

”Please let me taste you,” Juyeon whined, his dick hard enough to cut diamonds, but still in his underwear.

”Take off your undies and you can have my pussy,” Aeri replied. Juyeon almost fell off the bed trying to get out of his underwear and not lose sight of between Aeri’s legs. She laughed. Once he finally got them off, Juyeon plunged his face between her legs and began licking and sucking. She tasted like honey and it was addictive. She dug her fingers into his scalp and moaned as he licked every drop he could get. He stuck his tongue in her cunt and began fucking her with it.

”Fuck, Juyeon, I’m gonna fucking come all over your face,” she panted, bucking her hips in his face.

”Do it,” he pulled back for a moment. Then he resumed his position between her legs and kept tongue fucking her until he felt her thighs start to shake. Then her pussy started to flutter around his tongue. A few seconds later, she was dripping come all over his nose and mouth. Aeri had thrown a pillow over her face to muffle her cries of pleasure, mostly so she wouldn’t get bitched out by her roommates later. Juyeon sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. She hadn’t fully come down from her first orgasm before he slid into her tight pussy. Even fucking four other guys hadn’t loosened her up. The fact she stayed tight was part of the appeal. She wasn’t as tiny as some of the other girls he’d fucked, but she was the one he kept coming back to. Tight, sexy, and not afraid to tell him exactly what she wanted.

”Should I make more of a mess of your pussy?” He grunted as he thrust into her.

”Fucking ruin me,” she pulled him down into a kiss. It was more teeth and tongue than was comfortable, but Juyeon enjoyed it anyway. He sat back on his heels, pulling Aeri up on his lap. He took her waist and began fucking her on his cock.

”Shit, what the fuck,” she grunted as he manhandled her.

“You said ruin you,” he smirked.

”I did, didn’t I?” She grinned. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck for the taking. No marks. That was the only firm rule in the industry. Juyeon wanted to mark her up. To show the other guys he was her first choice. Instead he had to settle for mouthing at the smooth skin as she bounced on his dick.

”Ready to come again?” He asked against her throat.

”Always ladies first,” she teased.

”And more than once if I can arrange it,” Juyeon added.

”Finish me again,” Aeri kissed him again, this time with a little more finesse. He reached between them and teased her clit with this thumb. He felt her body momentarily lock up, then she was coming again, her face buried in his shoulder.

”That…was cheating,” she panted when she finished.

”No, I just know how to properly pleasure a woman,” Juyeon teased.

”When you put it that way,” she kissed him. “Ready to fill me up?”

”Been ready,” Juyeon leaned her back down and balanced himself on his arms before fucking hard into her again. It wasn’t long before he was coming hard and fast into her pussy. He pulled out when he finished and admired the mix of their come oozing out of her red and swollen cunt.

”Can I take a picture of this?” He asked. Aeri looked surprised for a moment, then handed him his phone.

”Naughty boy,” she giggled, spreading her legs wider so he could get a good shot. He showed her the pictures when he finished. “You’re definitely sending me those.”

”Of course,” he grinned. They stared at each other for a moment like there was something more to be said.

”Time to clean up and get some food,” she said. She passed him a box of tissues as she pulled on a robe to go to the bathroom. Once they were as clean as possible and redressed, they left for the 24 hour ramen spot a few blocks from the girls’ apartment. Juyeon found himself holding Aeri’s hand. They probably should’ve worn masks or something else to obscure their identities, but it was 2am and they were both still fucked out. Dating “scandals” had been rampant recently even if it was just two idols of the opposite sex having a normal conversation.

Maybe in a different life, Juyeon thought to himself as they took a booth in the back. Aeri was about to pick up the menu when Juyeon stopped her.

”I want to get a picture of this, too,” he said.

“Seriously? I’m wearing a flannel and my glasses,” she huffed.

”Maybe I want a PG picture I can show my friends when they ask about who I’m seeing,” Juyeon said.

”Fine,” Aeri posed and Juyeon took the picture.

”Perfect,” he said and showed it to her.

”Thanks,” she tried to hide a blush and failed. “Now let’s order. I’m starving.”

[christinebloodwrittings]

Something exactly like this

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, abuse, police brutality, hints of ptsd, cursing.

Words: 1957

Chapter four: If only we weren't strangers.

Taglist: @xoxobabe @lavndrluv @whatamidoing89 @theboyrisingfromstardust

There are moments in life that simply cannot be forgotten. When you least expect them, they repeat in your head like a catchy tune. Or at least, that's what good times sound like, like a day with your parents at the park, eating ice cream, laughing and playing, having the sun warm up your skin nicely.

But in moments of peace, my mind wanders over my decisions, entwined in infinite designs of a pattern that forms an image. It's blurry and incomplete, but each thread glows brightly, almost alive.

God knows I made bad decisions, some worse than others, like sneaking out to a party and getting my stubborn ass dragged to the police station was one of the worst, but for the sake of just going. I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have drunk, or let myself be carried away by the music, much less let one of the guys make me take a walk to get some air.

Because they didn't process me as a teenager, but as an adult.

An adult who had drunk like never before in her life, a minor, defenseless, with zero reasoning power.

The policeman who handcuffed me didn't read my rights, he just pushed my head into the car and drove to the station. He was suspiciously heavily armed, I must say.

He didn't put me in a cell, it was more of a room with a desk and pictures of a bald white guy with a loving family. I remember that desk well, especially the smooth, cold surface.

The officer just told me to wait quietly, that if I made a single sound he would break my knees, or so I think, I just remember laughing.

The rest is history... medical history.

It's funny how much you can miss after a few drinks, but at least they kept me from remembering what was important. My body and the photographs that the detectives took spoke for themselves.

During my time in the hospital room, a doctor came to me with news, supposedly to improve my mood, he told me that two policemen had entered the hospital with me, one of them blind in one eye and the other with a piece of his ear missing.

He was the typical adult who thought himself young and cool, trying to ease my pain with more or less happy news, something like "You look like crap, but you should see the others, champ!", but I doubt they were starring in their own version of the mummy.

Although of course, it was curious that when I woke up, I was missing several of my acrylic nails. Back then I did what it took to fit in, we've all been there.

My case was left unfinished, for a change. The policemen had no legal repercussions and remained intact in their jobs. It was never made public since I lived in a town in the middle of nowhere, and the detective in charge just gave me a taser in case it happens again.

I fucking hate the system.

My dad went crazy for it, who wouldn't be? That led him to call an old friend who had recently made a name for himself in the big city, in a political position.

I thought that justice would be done through human means and that the system would finally work, but unfortunately that dinner was the beginning of a terrible decision.

It was also the last time that Norman Osborn sat at our table looking completely human.

From that experience I was left with an omen, a voice, that screamed heartbreaking pleas for me to get away from the police, especially if it was V.E.N.O.M.

It has me sweating cold most of my nights.

That night I listened to it again and like an instinct I jumped out of my seat and started running. I spotted the emergency exit, I didn't think twice, I kicked it and ran in the opposite direction of the blue and red glow.

But it was as if it was getting louder, ferocious voices were yelling at me to stop, that I was under arrest, I was not going to let them take me away again, ever, over my corpse.

The burning tires, the smell of gasoline, everything led me to that night. I felt my heart in my ears, from the tears I could hardly see where I was going, and I only knew that I was moving through the cold air hitting my face, I could no longer feel my legs or my body in general. I just needed to run away.

The only time I stopped was when something grabbed me by the waist and stuck my back to his chest, looking up I realized it was Spider-punk. He lifted his finger to where I figured his mouth was, signaling for me to be quiet, but between my agitated hyperventilation, I just couldn't.

"I'm here, I won't let 'em take you" he whispered, getting a tigher hold of my body. A warm feeling grounded me a little when he hugged me, the rest of my body was so cold, I yearned for more warmth.

A loud bang resonated though the air, before the police sirens started to fade in the distance. We stayed a few minutes like that, even long after the silence settled among city's normal noise.

"They're gone now" he patted my head slightly, reassuring me. It felt nice to be held again, to feel safe for a minute.

"Looks like I owe you that kiss, huh?" I rolled my eyes, it's true that the danger was far away now, but it wasn't the right time to joke around.

"For all wrong reasons" I wanted to move, but I guess I took it too far with the escape run, it felt as if my feet were asleep. It was like the cold air built stalactites on the insides of my lungs, every breath brought a painful pang on my side.

"I don't mind settling that, but maybe I should leave you an excuse" he smiled, using my own words, "Perhaps you should".

Stepping a few times seemed to make the trick, I could feel my feet again, but the burning sensation in my chest remained, so I just walked at an old lady's speed.

"I get it, you were scared, the adrenaline is wearin' off, but you don't have to be so cold" he kept himself close, no quite beside me, but close.

I didn't respond to any of his callings, honestly I was far too tired and fed up with myself to handle anything external, except than silence, which was the last thing following me.

"Hey, 's goin on?" He stopped me by grabbing my arm, not making any pressure on it, he just hooked his hand on my elbow and stopped walking, making me almost lose my balance and curse under my breath.

"Fuck sake, why are you so fixated on the kiss thing? It was a joke, I thought I would never see you again, so it didn't mattered what I said", janking away from his hand, I managed to regain my posture and my walk.

"Well, it did to me" he muttered.

"I'm sorry, picture this for a fucking second. Normal female citizen about to be beaten up by a corrupt cop gets saved by a random dude with superpowers, among them abnormal strength. Then gets dropped off at her apartment, and the creep expects a kiss, so she jokes as to not make the mutant mad, and he keeps being flirty and pushy about the damn thing!" I lost my breath at the last sentence, and it broke me to realize how much it really hit me.

Perhaps I was being too hard on him, but pushing the issue in the first place, and in a situation of extreme stress was kind of the last drop.

"Now I was chased by cops, my heart is in the back of my mouth as well as the pie and my lunch, I'm tired, it's been a long fucking day, and guess what, the stranger keeps being pushy about a fucking kiss" then I went silent, having almost nothing else on my chest to vomit at all. Perhaps it wasn't how I wanted to say it, but I had a limit, and I couldn't find another way to draw it.

He backed up a little, raising his open palms to his chest level, "Hey, 'm sorry, I was just joking around" His voice was low and apologetic, it was like his presence shrunk from the tall and intimidating Spider-Punk, to just a guy that realized he fucked up.

I took a big breath, the burning sensation calming down a little, "Look I'm sorry, I have a bad history with cops, and men in general, the stress is all over me...I should've minded my words" down the weather was an understatement of my mood.

He hesitated, but in a slow motion, very carefully, he brushed a strand of lose hair off my face, brushing my cheek sweetly along the way.

"Forgive me luv, I pushed it" I nodded, his hand lingered on my cheek for a couple more seconds before withdrawing his touch, leaving me with a fluttery sensation.

He patted his jacket for a second before pulling a wrinkled piece of paper, which he handed to me, "Y'know, you can call this number, he's always around, 's a good pal o' mine, he'll help you if you need it" it had a phone number and a name that seemed to be a joke by now.

"Hobie Brown, the guitarrist? Met him already" he turned around to see me, "Really?" It was as if I could see his eyebrows rising.

"He pulled me out of the crowd mid anxiety attack, we didn't spoke much, but I apreciated it" he was so considerate for that, and I don't think I ever thank him for it.

"Intrestin', what do you think of him? First impresions only" I was taken aback by his question, but I didn't minded much, "He seemed nice, intimidating and surreal, but nice. My friend and her boyfriend supposedly set us up in order to date, but I don't see it happening" more like a failed ambush by cupid.

"Why's that?"

"I don't know, I guess...I guess we're too different, we don't even like the same music, and he's so..." so handsome but too much at this moment,

"So?"

"Rebel, he seems like trouble"

"What's life without a lil' trouble?"

"Are you also trying to set me up with that friend of yours? He can't be that dreamy, besides I don't know if I'm ready to jump in a relationship just yet"

"I understand"

He opened his arm to me, I thought he was going to swing us back to my place. Instead, he hugged me, his arm circulated my waist, and the other caressed my hair, "May I?" I looked up, his face was only inches from mine, "Fine, just do it" He chucked while using a finger to make me face the alley, then I felt his lips on my cheek.

When I turned to face him, his mask was fully covering his face, got to say I was a little disappointed. "We're settled then?" He chuckled again, "On my end only, can't wait for your kiss" this dude was making me crazy, "You're insufferable" this time he did wrap me with his arms and took off, "Indeed darling" was the last thing he did before dropping me off back at my place and then leaving again.

Funny, I found the crisps he promised right on my bed when I came back.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#20yrsago Advertising techniques that Web-users hate https://www.nngroup.com/articles/most-hated-advertising-techniques/

#20yrsago Haunted Mansion’s cobwebbing-and-griming regimen https://web.archive.org/web/20041216114700/http://disney.go.com/inside/issues/stories/v041214.html

#15yrsago Danish police abuse climate-change demonstrators https://web.archive.org/web/20091215061955/https://itsgettinghotinhere.org/2009/12/13/crackdown-in-copenhagen/

#15yrsago Three strikes law reintroduced in New Zealand https://memex.craphound.com/2009/12/15/three-strikes-law-reintroduced-in-new-zealand/

#15yrsago SFPD won’t investigate hit-and-run car-v-bike accident https://web.archive.org/web/20091220112602/https://jwz.livejournal.com/1139721.html

#15yrsago Comical legal case names https://kevinunderhill.typepad.com/lowering_the_bar/comical_case_names.html

#10yrsago Photographer beaten, detained in London for being “cocky” to policeman who implies she is a terrorist https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAs4gZY1bro

#10yrsago HOWTO: Make glue-gun sticks out of sugar for building gingerbread houses https://memex.craphound.com/2014/12/15/howto-make-glue-gun-sticks-out-of-sugar-for-building-gingerbread-houses/

#10yrsago New York City’s worst landlords https://web.archive.org/web/20141216015548/https://blogs.villagevoice.com/runninscared/2014/12/the_ten_worst_new_york_city_landlords_of_2014.php

#10yrsago Macedonia helped CIA kidnap and torture a German they mistook for a terrorist https://www.thelocal.de/20141210/cia-tortured-german-mistaken-for-terrorist

#10yrsago Why it matters whether or not torture works https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/12/the-humane-interrogation-technique-that-works-much-better-than-torture/383698/

#5yrsago Spain’s Xnet: leak-publishing corruption-fighters https://www.smh.com.au/world/spains-wikileaksinspired-xnet-peaceful-guerrilla-movement-fights-graft-using-technology-courts-20141213-126e1d.html

#5yrsago DRM screws blind people https://www.wired.com/2014/12/e-books-for-the-blind-should-be-legal/

#1yrago It all started with a mouse https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/15/mouse-liberation-front/#free-mickey

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

The fallout from HonestReporting’s exposure of Gaza-based photojournalists who infiltrated into Israel from Gaza on October 7 continues. The conversation started by this organization concerning the ethics of both the Palestinian media workers and those outlets that employed them or used their work has been consequential.

In the past few days, the world’s two biggest news agencies have again found themselves in the spotlight.

Reuters Distances Itself from Gaza Freelancer

Writing in The Algemeiner, Ira Stoll reported on February 21 that Reuters “is distancing itself from a freelance photographer after a pro-Israel journalism watchdog organization found an Instagram video of the photographer on October 7 appearing to urge Gazans to cross over into Israel.”

The photographer, Mohammed Fayq Abu Mostafa was featured in HonestReporting’s expose that included his October 7 photo of a lynch mob brutalizing an Israeli soldier at the breached Gaza border.

Last month, we exposed an Instagram video in which Abu Mostafa laughed while sharing a video of the lynch and recounting his experience of being inside Israel while terrorists took innocent civilians out of their homes. It is in this Instagram video that he also called on Gazans to cross into Israel.

As The Algemeiner reports:

The media monitoring group HonestReporting published what it said was a video of the photographer, Mohammed Fayq Abu Mostafa, saying in Arabic, “Advice, whoever can go – go. It is a one-time event that will not happen again.”

While we appreciate the fact that Reuters told the Algemeiner that it “considers unacceptable the behavior in the video of Mohammed Fayq Abu Mostafa,” we wonder why the agency keeps highlighting his border lynch photo as one of its top images of the year.

Why give such recognition to a person who gleefully recounted how he had joined Hamas terrorists while they were rampaging through Israeli communities?

Is that really the standard Reuters wants to set?

Nonetheless, the “distancing” of Reuters from Abu Mostafa is a welcome success.

Lawsuit Accuses AP of “Materially Supporting Terrorism”

According to a New York Post report from February 21, a lawsuit has been filed that accuses the Associated Press of “materially supporting terrorism” by paying “alleged Hamas-associated” photojournalists for images captured during and immediately after the October 7 invasion, in which Hamas terrorists slaughtered 1,200 people in Israel and kidnapped about 250 others.

The lawsuit focuses mainly on Hassan Eslaiah, a freelance photojournalist with whom AP (as well as CNN) cut ties following HonestReporting’s November 8 expose in which we had questioned his early morning presence at the Israel-Gaza border and inside Israeli communities. A photo we produced showing him being kissed on the cheek by Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar also raised serious concerns.

The NY Post quotes the lawsuit and also mentions the questions raised by HonestReporting:

“AP willfully chose to turn a blind eye to these facts, and instead profited from its terrorist photographer’s participation in the massacre through its publication of the ‘exclusive’ images, for which it certainly paid a premium, effectively funding a terrorist organization,” the suit alleges. Questions about the photojournalists’ allegiances were first raised by pro-Israel media watchdog, Honest Reporting [sic], just days after the terrorists’ gruesome invasion of the Jewish nation.

The report adds that AP and Eslaiah did not immediately return requests for comment regarding the legal action, that has been filed as a federal complaint in the Southern District of Florida under the Anti-Terrorism Act.

We will, of course, be following developments with interest.

[saintsir4n]

CAPTURE THE MOMENT

In which the Mikaelsons and Lumiéres take pictures throughout their holiday.

PAIRINGS: MIKAELSONS X LUMIÉRES

__

“SAY CHEESE!” Adrienne exclaimed, holding the camera in front of her family, who all reluctantly posed for the picture. Of course, Rebekah and the little mikaelson heir were all for getting photographed but the men of the family were completely against it, each and every time. Flash, Flash, Flash, they couldn’t stand it. “And again,”

“You’ll blind our child,” Klaus spoke, repairing forcing a smile in most of the pictures.

He raised a hand in defence, watching his wife shoot daggers in his direction. The baby in his arms was the only thing protecting him from her wrath, they all knew it.

“You’ll blind me with that bloody light,” Kol rubbed his eyes and moved out of frame. He was losing his patience. Although the holiday had been fun, he wanted to get back to the green-eyed brunette resting in his suite, “no more pictures for goodness sake.”

Hadeon chuckled, “Christ Adri, what is with your camera?”

“Damn, You sure that flash is legal?” Marcel wondered, staring at the object in confusion.

“It is quite bright Adrienne,” Elijah agreed with them, growing tired of the constant photographs.

Sure he liked to look back on the memories of their trips, however, he believed it took away from the moments. Not everything needed to be documented, not the food on their plates or when they napped or swam, but the women seemed to disagree.

“I got it for her, for your information,” Rebekah sassed, feeling offended by the number of complaints. I love it, Adrienne’s voice cut through the memory of the gift exchange.

“No surprises there,” Hadeon grumbled, then winced that the glare he received from his sister and Marcel.

Rebekah stepped closer to him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kol sucked in a deep breath, “It’s loud and annoying —“

“— and attention seeking, just like you,” Klaus finished, earning a scowl from Rebekah who began to run after him.

“Sweetheart,” he passed his child over to his wife, before escaping his sister’s grasp.

“Here we go.” Elijah went to sit back down, not interested in stopping the squabble for once. So instead he pulled out his phone and began messaging his girlfriend.

“Who do you think will win?” Marcel's eyes darted between the fighting siblings. He knew his side wouldn’t hurt Rebekah, not in front of so many people, but dread lingered around him.

Kol took out his phone, laughing when his sister threw a shoe at the hybrid’s head.

“Bekah,” Hadeon chuckled, “definitely Bekah.”

“Look at daddy,” Adrienne held her son up, giggling just like he did, watching the siblings bicker and fight, “Look at the man I married.”

“And don’t you regret it,” Kol spoke up, earning a few laughs, “I bloody would.”

“Shut up Kol.”

a/n:

Decided to end it on this note. Something light compared to most of work I upload onto both apps.

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 21 - Far from Over

IN THIS CHAPTER: High school rumors, two really awkward talks, and Eddie makes plans for the future [6.0k]

WARNINGS: suggestive themes (very mild, just a misunderstanding with wayne), very vague mention of disordered eating (one line about chrissy not wanting to eat lunch)

A/N: in case you didn't see the announcement at the bottom of the latest extra, i'm changing update days to saturdays because things are insane at work and i really need the extra day. we're halfway done with this story so there's loads to come still! enjoy the chapter <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

I'm moving in 'cause I am getting closer I'm digging in I want it more than anything I've wanted

Sunday, June 1st - 1986

Wayne Munson had given up a lot for his nephew. He’d given up his dream job, his bedroom, and his privacy. He’d given up on having the freedom to go wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, dating (not that he was too interested in that these days, but still), the childless life he’d always envisioned for himself. And yet, if you asked him, Wayne would tell you truthfully that he’d never regretted it. How could he, when he loved Eddie like he was his own even when he was probably the reason he was balding? He carried a picture of an eight-year-old Eddie in his wallet from their first Christmas together, he had two mixtapes Eddie had made for him when he was barely 13 and still figuring out who he was and what music he liked, he had Eddie’s birth certificate and the papers he’d signed to become his legal guardian in a manilla folder at the top of the hallway closet along with a newspaper clipping from the time a photographer had taken a picture of a bunch of smiling kids at a pumpkin patch for an article, his boy’s grin the brightest of them all. No, there was virtually nothing in the world that could convince Wayne Munson that becoming Eddie’s caretaker had been the wrong choice, but when he walked into his trailer that Sunday at 6:30 in the morning and immediately tripped on a pair of shoes that had been abandoned at the door, he couldn’t wait until the moment Eddie was all grown up and would leave for greener pastures.

He bent down to grab the shoes, fully intending on throwing them down the hallway for Eddie to pick up later when he realized these weren’t Eddie’s shoes. They couldn’t have been, because for one, they were a size much smaller than his nephew usually wore, but also because they were black kitten heels with a strap and a silver buckle at the sides. These were women’s shoes, and he had no idea who these belonged to but judging by the fact that they were lying by his front door, the owner was still in the trailer. Turning on the lights, he looked around and saw something a parent never really wants to see: signs of their kid’s sex life. There was a dress lying on top of the couch, clearly haphazardly thrown, a white frilly sock next to his armchair and another one in front of the TV. Wayne took in a deep breath, fully intending to pretend like he’d gone temporarily blind, but when he took one step further into the living room and noticed the white cotton bra dangling from the corner of his coffee table he couldn’t stop the indignation from bubbling up his throat.

“EDWARD!” he bellowed, not caring if the mystery girl in his nephew’s bedroom was still there or not.

“Shit!” he heard Eddie yell, accompanied with a loud thump as the boy hit the floor, clearly startled out of his dreams.

Eddie had been enjoying a peaceful sleep - probably the best sleep of his life - when he heard his Uncle Wayne yell his name from the other side of the trailer. During the night he’d shifted from the position he’d been in when he initially fell asleep and was now currently being spooned from behind by Dottie, who jolted awake at the same time he did; her scared gasp on his neck sent him straight onto the carpet and scrambling to open his door. Bleary-eyed, he spilled into the hallway, heart in his throat and ready to fight an intruder or call an ambulance.

“Boy, get over here now,” Wayne gritted out, jaw tight.

Oh, fuck. He knows. Someone probably called the cops, he knows Dot broke Andy’s nose, shit, was all that was running through Eddie’s brain as he approached his Uncle meekly. He looked equal parts terrified and confused, and Wayne softened, remembering how skittish Eddie used to be whenever he accidentally raised his voice too much when he first came to live with him.

“Wayne, I can explain,” Eddie held his palms up, trying to control the situation.

“Look, Ed, you know I don’t care what you do and who you do it with as long as you ain’t bein’ stupid ‘bout it, but at least have the decency of not treating our home like a goddamn love motel,” Wayne said, voice lower but his tone still strict.

“Uh- what?”

“I don’t think that lady friend you got in there would appreciate me knowing what her undies look like-”

“Fuck,” Eddie flinched, but Wayne continued.

“-so please, get her her stuff and take her home so I can get some sleep, would you?”

“It’s not what you think, I swear.”

“Eddie, I don’t give a shit.”

“No, you don’t understand- it’s not a lady friend, it’s Dot,” the youngest Munson said, eyes wide begging his Uncle to shut up for a second.

Wayne looked at him quizzically for a few beats before directing his eyes to the hallway where someone was poking their head out of Eddie’s bedroom. And lo and behold, a sleepy-looking Dorothy was staring back at him with the most shameful look on her face he’d ever seen on anyone in his entire life. Wiping his face with his hand, the old man sighed and motioned for her to come out of her hiding place. She rushed forward, head bowed until she reached Eddie’s side and grabbed the back of his shirt for comfort, gnawing on her lower lip.

“Son,” Wayne looked back at him with a pointed look. “Can you please pick up her clothes before we have this conversation?”

Eddie nodded and leapt onto the coffee table, hiding the offending bra under the rest of her clothes before throwing them inside his bedroom for them to deal with later. Dottie waited in silence, wanting for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She didn’t know what was worse, Wayne believing they’d hooked up or them having to explain that actually nothing had really happened and have the older man think they were liars. He looked at her and noticed the gauze covering her hand, frowning at the idea of her being hurt.

“You okay there, kid?” he asked, nodding towards her injury.

“Y-yeah. I… I kinda got into a fight last night,” she admitted shamefully.

“You got into a fight?” he asked, disbelief clear all over his face. “With Ed?”

“Actually yes, but that’s from a different fight,” Eddie said, coming to stand next to her again.

“Okay, Jesus,” Wayne muttered to himself. “Sit down.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Munson. I promise this is not what it looks like,” Dottie said, looking up at Wayne who stood on the other side of the coffee table with his arms crossed.

“You don’t gotta call me Mr. Munson, you’re not in trouble,” he reassured her with a wry smile. “Now, wanna tell me about these fights you been getting into?”

“We went to a party in Loch Nora,” Eddie explained. “Some bullshit about saying goodbye to senior year, whatever. The basketball meatheads were being assholes so Dot punched one of them.”

“This guy called me names,” she said, fidgeting in her seat. “Said some really ugly stuff, and I was so pissed I just kinda… hit him.”

“Pretty sure you broke bones, princess,” the youngest Munson said, pride tingeing his voice.

“Damn,” his Uncle said.

“He threw beer all over my clothes and I didn’t want my Dad to see me like that so I asked Eddie if he could bring me here to get cleaned up. Nothing inappropriate happened, I swear.”

“Kids, I don’t mind if it did-” Wayne started saying, but Eddie cut him off.

“Wayne, we’re telling you, she showered, I gave her clean clothes and then we went to sleep. That’s it, we just slept in the same bed,” he looked at his Uncle with red ears. “Nothing else happened.”

“What about that fight you two had? Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he looked at Dottie and they both smiled at each other shyly. “Was just a misunderstanding, we sorted it out. I was being dramatic and threw her stuff around, you know me.”

“No, you weren’t,” she sighed. “I wasn’t listening, you had to get me to shut up somehow.”

“I mean, I could have picked up your clothes after we made up,” he chuckled, and she snorted, still a little embarrassed at the situation.

“Okay,” Wayne said, scratching his beard. “If you say nothing happened, then I believe you. But-” he looked at Eddie. “-if anything ever happens, and I’m not saying it will, but I still gotta tell you this… don’t be an idiot, son. Got you those condoms for a reason.”

“Jesus Christ, Wayne,” Eddie flinched.

“Actually, I threw them out when we cleaned his bedroom last month,” Dottie said, mortified but also holding in a chuckle. “They were kind of… old?”

“Old?” Eddie asked, his brows rising on his forehead.

“Expired, Ed. You do know those things have an expiration date, don’t you?” she said, and Wayne let out a loud chortle.

“Do I look like I knew that?” he replied, looking at her like she’d just blown his mind. “Why do you think that box was sealed?”

“Didn’t really need to know that, but I’m glad there won’t be any little Munsons toddling around here then. God knows we ain’t got the space,” Wayne said, putting an end to the conversation. “You two gonna hang out here today?”

“No, I should get home,” Dottie said, turning to Eddie. “Gotta tell my Dad I broke someone’s nose eventually.”

“We could always tell him you were defending my honor,” he joked, getting up. “That asshole threw me onto a table, Wayne, I think my ass is bruised. Look!”

“Ain’t nobody wanna see those pale cheeks, boy, pull those pants up!”

It was around 8:30 when Eddie pulled up to Dottie’s house, parking his van in the driveway just outside of the closed garage. James was already awake as evidenced by the open living room windows; he was a light sleeper and his body was so used to waking up early for work during the week that he hadn’t known what a lie-in looked like since he was in his early 20s. The teens had stopped at a bakery on their way to the house, planning to have breakfast together and maybe spend a little time away from the trailer so Wayne could have a well deserved sleep without being disturbed by their loud chatter. At the looming sight of her own house however, Dottie couldn’t get her legs to move to hoist herself out of the van. Eddie circled around to get to her side, bakery bag swinging from his fingers as he opened her door and waited for her to get out, always a gentleman.

“Okay, what’s wrong? Want me to go home so you can talk to your Dad alone?” he asked, tapping on her knee to get her attention.

He’d barely been able to look away from her while he drove, mesmerized by the fact that she was just calmly sitting next to him, in his clothes, browsing through his tapes, mumbling the lyrics to whatever Black Sabbath song was playing from his radio. She had swapped her borrowed boxers for a pair of Eddie's old sweatpants that barely reached his ankles anymore; they were too long for her and he'd rolled them up for her so she wouldn't trip when she walked, her cute kitten heels barely visible under the surplus of soft dark blue fabric. Dottie interlaced their fingers, stalling until she felt like she could finally face her Dad and tell him she’d gone all Rocky Balboa on some dude’s face.

“He’s gonna kill me,” she muttered; Eddie didn’t have to ask what she meant.

“No, he’s not. You defended yourself, it’s not like you went after the guy while he was distracted. It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” he reassured her, slotting between her legs to give her a one-armed hug.

“Please don’t go.”

“I won’t. I’m gonna be there for backup the entire time, okay?”

“...Okay.”

“Okay! Good. Wanna get out of the van now so I can give you a kiss before your Dad catches us out here like two idiots?”

Laughing softly, Dottie finally let herself drop from her seat and let him lock the van before he sneaked a hand around her waist and pushed her into himself, kissing her temple first, and then her lips. She sighed, content to be safe in his arms where no one was mad or upset for a little longer.

“Good morning, darling,” Eddie muttered against her mouth.

“Good morning, Ed,” Dottie replied, squeezing him once before letting him go and making her way towards her front door, wringing her hands nervously.

The house was so quiet it might as well have been empty, but the curtains moving softly in the breeze coming in from the opened windows were inviting and cozy, the air heavy with the scent of coffee and upcoming rain. Dottie took off her heels, leaving them against the entrance table in the foyer before hanging her purse from a hook next to the door and heading towards the kitchen. Eddie followed without hurry, the bag filled with warm baked goods crinkling with the movement. As they approached, they could hear soft noises coming from the coffee machine mingling with James’ voice, calm frustration noticeable in his tone.

“Dad?” Dottie called.

“I’m in the kitchen! No, Dad, I’m talking to Dot. Yes it’s still leaking! Yes, I know how to- you don’t have to tell me again, I’ve done it a million times before,” James looked up from where he was crouching under the kitchen sink and saw the kids enter, confusion painting his face as he took in his daughter’s appearance.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, not wanting to delay the moment any longer.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just… I really need to talk to you. Like, right now.”

“Uh, Dad? Yeah, I’m gonna have to call you back, okay? Uh-huh. Yes, I’ll tell her you love her-”

“I love him too,” Dottie said, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips at the thought of her Grandpa Ken on the other side of the phone.

“She says she loves you too. Okay, talk to you later. Bye-bye,” James hung up and eyed Eddie curiously before turning back to his daughter. “What happened to your dress?”

“Someone spilled beer on me. We washed it last night but I think we probably should wash it again,” she lifted her hand, the one that wasn’t injured, a plastic bag containing her clothes dangling from her wrist. “Eddie gave me some of his clothes so I could take a shower.”

“I can see that. You stayed over at Eddie’s?” James crossed his arms, face carefully schooled into a stoic mask.

“I’m sorry I lied. I was upset and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to come pick me up,” Dottie pulled at the hem of her Garfield shirt.

“Did you get into a fight with Jeff?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Okay. What does that mean?”

“I got into a fight, just not with Jeff,” she moved her other hand from where she was hiding it behind her back letting her Dad see the gauze.

“Dorothy, what did you do?”

“I… I punched a guy in the face at the party?” she grimaced.

“Dorothy.”

“He deserved it,” Eddie said, pulling James’ attention to himself. “That guy, he’s- well, he’s a bully, sir. Him and his friends were shoving us, and he was saying all these nasty things-”

“Eddie, I appreciate you trying to defend my daughter right now but getting into a fight and hitting someone isn’t how you deal with things.”

“I know that, but that asshole- sorry, that guy isn’t someone you can reason with. He’s a jock, he’s been bullying us for years. He had it coming,” Eddie explained. “He’s a racist, sexist piece of trash that thinks he can get away with everything he does because he’s popular and has money.”

“I get that, trust me, I do but-”

“He called me a whore,” Dottie said, silencing them both. “He has it out for me because I told him to stop bullying my friends or else I’d tell our Spanish teacher he cheated on a test, so he said I was a slut in front of everyone to make me look bad. He would have hit me and Nancy if one of his friends didn’t tell him to back off.”

“He threatened to hit you?” James’ eyebrows rose.

“He raised his hand at us. His friends pulled him away before he could do it.”

“He also emptied an entire beer can on her head,” Eddie added, jaw tight.

“And he pulled Eddie’s hair and pushed him into a table,” she ended the story, eyes glued to the floor.

“Well, in that case… fuck that guy,” James scoffed. “Who is this kid?”

“His name’s Andy, he’s on the basketball team,” Dottie said, but Eddie was way ahead of her.

“He’s Carson Humphrey’s son.”

“Of course he’s Carson’s boy,” James turned to Eddie. “I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“You know his Dad?” his daughter asked, curious about this turn of events.

“Everyone knew Carson back then. Popular, had money, shoved everyone into a locker if we looked at his girl wrong. Can’t believe Adelaine married that asshole.”

“He’s still a piece of shit,” Eddie said. “He’s one of the suits at the plant my Uncle works at. Wayne hates him, says he’s always treating everyone like trash.”

“That really does not surprise me.”

There was a moment of silence that passed between all three of them before James moved to get a mug from one of the cabinets. He filled it with coffee, stirring one spoonful of sugar into the dark liquid, and turned to the teens who were still standing on the other side of the island, awaiting judgment to pass upon them.

“You two had breakfast?” he asked, taking a sip.

“No, we left as soon as we could. Wayne worked last night and we didn’t want to disturb him,” Dottie said, wondering why she wasn’t grounded yet. “Am I… Are you mad at me?”

“Come here,” James said, opening his arm so she could tuck herself into his side. “Am I happy you got into a fight? No, I’m not. But you stood up for yourself and your friends, and I am proud of you for that.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am, honey. I’m proud you didn’t take his shit lying down,” he sighed. “Just… don’t lie to me again, okay? You could have told me hey Dad, I’m gonna stay over at Eddie’s, I’m upset and I don’t want you to pick me up and I would have respected that. You know I would have. I know you’re old enough to do whatever you want and I can’t stop you from doing that, but what if something had happened, huh? What if there was an emergency and I couldn’t find you? It’s just you and me, Dot, you gotta help me out here a little bit.”

“I’m sorry. I promise you I was safe, we stayed at Eddie’s all night. Mom’s dress was gross and I was so upset, I just… I don’t know. I didn’t want you to see me like that,” she mumbled.

“It’s okay, honey. Nothing a good wash can’t fix,” James muttered into her hair. “Ed?”

“Y-yes, sir?” he looked awkward as hell, avoiding staring at them while they shared a tender father-daughter moment.

“You want some coffee?” the older man asked, but Eddie understood what he really meant to say. Thank you for being there for my daughter when she needed you.

“I’d love coffee, thanks. We, uh- We got donuts on our way over if you want some.” Thank you for letting me be there for your daughter; here’s a peace offering.

“Which kind?”

“A dozen. Half glazed, half with jelly,” he smiled.

“Atta boy,” James grinned at him, and the tension in the kitchen dissolved to nothing.

After breakfast, Eddie helped James fix the leaky sink in the kitchen while Dottie put a new load in the washing machine, her Mom’s baby blue shift dress finally on its way to normalcy. From the laundry room next to the kitchen she could hear what were possibly the two most important men in her life talking like they were family, and in a way, she supposed they were. Whether Eddie and her stayed together forever or not following recent developments, she knew he would always occupy a big space in her life, and she was grateful that her Dad was so accepting of him. Once Eddie had left, she’d most likely have to give James a full rundown of what had happened at the party and how she’d ended up at his trailer instead of going to Jeff’s house, but she wasn’t afraid of him getting mad at her anymore.

Officially not in trouble, the teens retreated to her bedroom to hang out while James finished up his morning routine. He came out of the bathroom after a shower, dressed up in his cozy Sunday clothes fully intending on going downstairs and lounge around until lunchtime when he walked past Dottie’s room, the silence coming from behind her almost closed white door startling him. He’d heard them talking animatedly all morning, had Eddie left already while he was in the shower? Peeking inside, he saw the two teens asleep on top of the comforter, Eddie spread out like a starfish and Dottie curled into a ball next to him, her pillow on the verge of falling to the floor. James watched his daughter turn in her sleep towards her friend, the soft cushion finally hitting the rug with a barely audible thud, her head perching on Eddie’s arm and her hand resting on his chest. He would have laughed at how her sleep-addled body had betrayed her if he hadn’t seen Eddie shift to accommodate her new position better, turning onto his side to drape an arm around her middle and pulling her to him, his leg tangling with hers. He snored once as he settled and they both carried on sleeping like nothing had changed, but James knew without anyone having to tell him, that everything was different.

With the heavy heart of a Dad watching his little girl slip away from his fingers in order to grow up into the wonderful woman he knew she’d become one day, he closed her door again and headed downstairs, trusting that the boy who held her like she was precious cargo when he was unconscious would do exactly the same while they were awake.

Monday, June 2nd - 1986

“So is it true? Did you really break Andy’s nose?”

“For fuck’s sake, Fred, I think people in Indianapolis couldn’t hear you. Wanna ask a little louder?”

By lunchtime, Dottie was already tired of people coming up to her and asking about Andy while the boys in Hellfire were having a lot of fun scaring nosy students away. Nobody was denying the general story - how could they when half of their senior class had seen the fight go down - but as the rumor spread like wildfire, the specifics of it all were becoming more and more convoluted. Some said she had punched him because Andy had tried to slip a roofie into her drink, others said that she hit him during a lover’s quarrel, and her personal favorite was that she’d actually been upset over him getting a better grade on a Spanish test than she did and went psycho on him. Her friends were stuck to her like velcro, arguing that they were worried that someone in the basketball team would try to retaliate but it quickly became evident that they were keeping their distance when during her AP Spanish class on third period, Andy sat as far away from her as possible, a butterfly bandage decorating the bridge of his nose.

Nancy told her one class later during AP Research that Andy’s nose hadn’t actually been broken, but that he was probably still going to be sporting the white bandage and a purple eye during his prom pictures. The damage was superficial, which is why the basketball team was so willing to pretend like it hadn’t happened, particularly after their teammate had been so ready to punch two girls much smaller than him in front of their entire year over what seemed to be a mere misunderstanding. Much to their chagrin, their need to protect one of their friend’s girlfriends was very unneeded, as evidenced by the fact that Chrissy greeted both Dottie and Eddie with hugs and big smiles in the hallway when they crossed paths. No one wanted to fight the freaks on Chrissy’s behalf if she wasn’t going to play her role as the damsel in distress.

“Get lost, Benson, we’re trying to have lunch in peace,” Gareth told him, shooing him away with his hand like Fred was a bothersome fly.

“Good luck I wasn’t talking to you then, Coleman,” Fred said, turning again towards Dottie. “Come on, Dot, aren’t we friends? Just tell me what happened, Nancy won’t say shit.”

“You’ve never called me Dot in like the three months I’ve known you,” she said, pointing at him with her lettuce-filled fork.

“No time like today to start, huh? So why did you do it? Did he really try to feel you up?”

“That’s a new one, hadn’t heard it yet,” Dottie looked at Jeff across the table from her and he snorted. “I hit him because he was being rude, kinda like you are being right now.”

“You’re absolutely no fun, did you know that?”

“I’ve been told. Now scram before I punch you too,” she smiled at him sweetly.

“You’re spending too much time with the weirdos. Drop by the newsroom before you leave, got your final stack,” Fred said, finally relenting and going back to his table.

“Okay, I know you’re upset about it but you gotta admit that punching a jock on the nose is a really cool story,” Dustin laughed. “Best part is that he can’t even do anything about it because he’s too embarrassed everyone saw him getting hit by a girl half his size.”

“Yeah, that’s… not the pick-me-up you think it is, Dus,” Dottie sighed. “I’m just tired everyone keeps trying to talk to me about it.”

“Look, you’re only gonna have to deal with it for two more weeks and then you’re out of here forever,” Mike said. “No one will care anymore after the holidays start.”

“Speaking of being free from this hellhole,” Donny said, tapping the table excitedly. “Are we still on about the summer jobs thing?”

“Absolutely, yes,” she nodded. “I wanna save up as much as I can before Michigan.”

“You two getting summer jobs?” Jeff asked, curiously.

“She’s gonna cover for my sister while she’s on her pregnancy leave,” Donny explained.

“Aw, man, you two are gonna work together?” Gareth complained. “My Mom got me a job at the fucking supermarket, one of her aerobics class friends is a manager or some shit like that.”

“You gonna be a cashier?” Jeff said, laughing when Gareth nodded. “You can barely do basic Math, who’s the fuck is trusting you with money?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he threw his straw at his friend.

“What are you gonna do, Jeff?” Mike asked.

“Dunno yet, might walk some dogs again to get some cash before college.”

“Aren’t you allergic to fur?” Dustin frowned.

“Cats.”

“Ah.”

“Does anyone know what Eddie’s gonna do?” Donny wondered.

“What do you mean what’s he gonna do? He already has a gig,” Gareth said, mouth full of mushy carrots.

“You really think he’s gonna keep selling weed after graduation?” Jeff said. “I bet he’s gonna ask Dave for a job or something.”

“Who’s Dave?” Dottie asked.

“He owns The Hideout. He’s known Eddie for years, and he’s always saying he needs a bartender. I think Ed’d be good at it.”

“Who knows. Doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a job anyways,” Gareth shrugged, but Dottie knew that wasn’t true.

As the conversation kept going and Dustin talked about his summer camp and being reunited with his girlfriend, Dottie stared at Eddie’s empty chair at the head of their table and wondered how they were going to navigate the changes in their relationship if they were both about to have completely different schedules.

“I’m telling you, Chris, it was something straight out of a fucking movie.”

“It sounds like it!”

Eddie and Chrissy were hanging out in the woods, enjoying what was probably going to be their last time together at their spot. Hellfire was officially on hiatus and cheer practice had ended last week, so there were no more reasons for them to stay after school on Friday evenings, and thus no more secret smoking sessions would ensue. Still, when Eddie opened his locker to find Chrissy’s note asking if he wanted to have lunch with her at their table, he took the opportunity to update her future Maid of Honor-Best Woman-Whatever That Shit Was Called on his developing love life. Yes, he wasn’t actually supposed to be telling anyone what had transpired after they’d left the party, but he figured that letting Chrissy know wouldn’t be too bad considering how much help she’d been providing to him all along.

“I’m really proud of you, Eddie,” she said, pushing a cherry tomato around her little Tupperware container. He’d noticed she wasn’t really eating but didn’t say anything about it; maybe she didn’t like the salad her Mom had packed for her. “You put yourself out there even if it was scary, you set goals and worked hard to achieve them, and now you’re about to graduate while dating the girl of your dreams. You must feel so relieved everything turned out great.”

“Actually, it feels weird,” he admitted. “Like, all this time I was psyching myself for it, y’know? And I thought it was gonna be this huge thing once it happened, and it was! But… I feel, I don’t know, calm? Like for once in my life I’m not just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“That’s great. I’m happy she makes you happy. I’m happy you’re both happy!” she smiled, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “You’re really cute together, and you deserve to feel loved.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, a little out of breath. Dottie loved him. Dottie loved him. That was gonna take some time to get used to. “Anyway, enough about me being a fucking softie. What’s going on with you? What happened after we left?”

“Nothing much,” Chrissy shrugged. “People kinda went back to their own stuff, it was pretty normal. Jason and I got into a fight on Sunday though.”

“I’m sorry. Did we-”

“No, no, it’s okay. He was being an idiot,” she rolled her eyes. “Everything is fine now. He was… well, he asked me if there was anything going on between us.”

“What? Us as in like, you and me?”

“I know, right? So weird. Apparently Andy told him you were, like… being a perv about me at the party?”

“Fuckin’ Andy, man.”

“You can say that again. But really, it’s fine now. He calmed down after I told him I had it on good authority that you liked Dottie.”

“You told Jason Carver I had a crush on Dot?”

“No, I told Jason Nancy told me you had a crush on Dot,” she giggled. “He didn’t ask anything else after that. Every time I bring up girly gossip in front of him he mentally checks out.”

“Yeah, no, that seems reasonable. No sane man likes girly gossip.”

“You love girly gossip.”

“Who said I was sane, sweetheart?” Eddie grinned.

“Ugh, I’m gonna miss this! I’m gonna miss you!” Chrissy groaned. “My Mom’s gonna be looking at me like a hawk all summer.”

“Lie to her and come hang out with us. We’re probably gonna be at the lake most of the time, it’s hot as hell and none of us has a pool,” he said, munching on his last bit of sandwich.

“I’d love to go but I don’t wanna say yes and then flake out on you. She’s… overbearing when she wants to be. And I need to start training for the preseason so she’s gonna be on my ass all the time. She already ordered my new uniform, she’s insane,” she let her head fall onto her arms.

“I bet Dot can help you out with that. She won’t suspect too much if you’re going out with another girl, right?”

“Maybe,” Chrissy said, not putting too much faith into the idea. “I need to figure something out though because I think I might freak out if I can’t smoke anymore.”

“Actually, I kinda wanted to talk to you about that,” Eddie scratched his neck awkwardly. “I’m not gonna sell anymore after graduation.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“I don’t want Callahan to bust me again now that I’m 20. Hopper didn’t give two shits about it but that asshole is gonna tell Chief Powell, and I think he hates me,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “But I can give you the number of this guy I know, I’m gonna buy from him too probably.”

“Okay, that sounds good. Can we, like, buy together though? At least the first time. Until I know he’s not, y’know, a murderer or something,” she laughed nervously.

“Yeah, we can go together,” he smiled. “Can’t go until a week after graduation though. Gotta take a pee test and I don’t wanna risk it.”

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No, I… I’m applying for a job.”

“Are you serious?” Chrissy beamed at him.

“Yeah! But I don’t wanna jinx it, so don’t ask me anything about it until it’s a done deal,” he said, lifting a finger at her in warning.

“Okay, okay, I won’t. But that’s so exciting, Eddie, oh my god!” she got up from her seat and went to hug him. “Look at you, being all grown up and stuff! Who are you and what did you do to my Eddie?”

“I’m still here, haven’t gone anywhere,” he smiled, leaning into the hug. “Just decided to stop dicking around for once.”

It occurred to Eddie, once he was sitting in his English Lit class after lunch, that he owed much of his recent maturity to the girl sitting next to him. Dottie was playing with the rings on his fingers as they relaxed at the back of the classroom, a boring movie playing during their last period to fill up time while their teacher tried to finish grading all the finals she had in front of her. He pulled her hand up to his mouth silently, not wanting to attract any attention towards them, but no one cared. Half of the class was asleep anyway. He kissed her injured knuckles over the colorful band aids he’d gotten for her, and she smiled at him, eyes soft and heart soaring.

“Thank you,” he muttered; she looked at him inquisitively but he didn’t say more.

When his lips pressed to the inside of her wrist, she understood what he had meant: thank you for believing in me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being here. And when they were finally alone, hiding away in what was now known as their clearing at the edge of the lake, he told her he believed he couldn’t have gotten to where he was without her and she replied that all she’d done was to simply return what he’d given to her since the day they’d met, which was kindness, understanding, and above all, a whole lot of love.

taglist (comment below or send me an ask if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean @every1lovesanunderdog @eg-dr3amer3

[nitazenes]

What is it like to be half blind as an artist/photographer? /genq

Oh. I love questions like these where someone is actively curious about how I experience things being half blind.

Being half blind is interesting. I would have been total blind if the surgery on my right eye failed like it did for my left eye. So my left eye is lazy, tends to drift outward esp if I'm looking in a mirror for some reason.

It effects a lot regarding what you can see/perceive with your "seeing eye" (my right eye sees almost 20/20

My left eye is like 20/275+ <- legal blindness. From a medical standpoint I still have some vision in the left but it's not much. In fact closing my right eye, all I see is mu peripheral and its hazy. Anything in the center of my sight line is absent but I can see movement in my peripheral. Which is not sight in my opinion, it's just the best my left eye can do.

But this actually makes my vision and perception of my right eye worse. It would actually be beneficial if I lost all sense in the left eye.

The main thing it effects in terms of sight is depth perception. Depth perception with both eyes allows you to accurately tell how close or far away something is. (Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear) I'm p sure they still have that on cars lol

With one eye your ability to read depth is altered. I often shoulder check people on accident who are walking on my left bc I tend not to move far enough to the right. When I reach for things sometimes I'll reach and the object I am seeing is not within my reach so I have to reach further than it appears bc there's a severe lack in depth perception. Sometimes things will be closer to me than I think, I run into doorways a lot, or I can reach for something that I'm overcompensating for and attempt to reach too far and will ram my hand into whatever object. I used to have a problem knocking over my drinking glass

As an artist though, part of the basic fundamentals of drawing "correctly" is how to draw in perspective. Which for instance, first point perspective has one vanishing point on a horizon line. The horizon line is eye level where ever you put that line on first point perspective is where you eye sight is. You draw in perspective with vertical and horizontal lines normal. Like a square. Those remain straight but to make this square three dimensional in perspective is that all other lines aside from horizontal or vertical lines are pointed to the vanishing point on the horizon line

Then there's corner perspective and even 3 point perspective which to me is the most fun to draw.

That's the best way I can describe it in words lol usually it requires a visual demonstration

So drawing using these rules allows me to draw perspective accurately.

With photography the lens is literally how an eye works. Depending on if you have a mirrored DSLR or not. But photography is one of my better mediums surprisingly being half blind because a photograph is an image as if both eyes are working when the picture is taken. So I love to take photos at odd angles. The thing that it effects is if I have a single subject. For instance, portraits. I rely on my camera to tell me if I am centered or not and then I move my camera just slightly to the left and that will get a single subject in the center. My struggle is with the rule of thirds. So I actually have a grid on my lens that allows me to line things up properly with rule of thirds bit typically I avoid that rule like the plague. Bc that does require accurate perception to get things lined up.

I notice that with some of my drawings In the past on paper my drawings would be slanted kind of.. tilted in a sense but I learner the magic of digital drawings and being able to flip my canvas horizontally allow me to correct any leaning so to speak

I hope any of this made a lick of sense but thank you for asking : )

[teawithhenry]

Please use your critical thinking! Can it really be possible for Natalie to lie about her Job in the Industry? A Hollywood Trade announced her new Position at Vertigo Entertainment. She shared it on her public Instagram! Henry responded to her Post! Different Sites have her new Job listed. People currently working @ Vertigo arent blind or stupid, its a Hollywood Studio. All Studios have social media presence, Vertigo too. If she lied, Vertigo Entertainment would have noticed that by now. Use your critical thinking please. It's impossible to lie about a job like that and not getting caught when so many people know about it. But if you still dont believe it, contact Vertigo Entertainment, Roy Lee or someone else. Find out if she works there or not, FIRST HAND.

She can purchase industry titles to promote herself. She is not the first wanna be celebrity to do it in the industry. This is not rocket science, surely a person can piece it together in a practical manner? How else does she gain her presence without paid promotional effects? Given there is manipulated photographic evidence of pr around her public posts and sketchy situation with Henry, I would have to say yes, it is possible she is lying and working hard to cover up certain spots that have exposed her. Like I have said before on another post, she has neither been seen attending any known company film gigs or red carpet events to aid in the promotional aspects of films and projects which is certainly an important part of business, assuming she is a higher ranking job like a VP? Just because paid articles about her "job" was regurgitated through various publishing companies doesn't mean that she is telling the truth. As far as the legalities are concerned, there is such thing as interest transactions and hush money deals if it benefits the film company somehow. Some deals may come with packages of future film investments. I can see how someone might turn a blind eye to someone who doesn't actually work for a company in the industry.

[darkwitch1999]

Ronan Odeja OC Headcanons

Ronan Odeja

Age: 40s

Ronan is the father of Michael, Noelle, and Anais Odeja.

He has been happily married to Alyssa Odeja for over 20 years.

Ronan is a photographer who owns his own photography studio. He is well known in his profession for taking pictures that reflect "absolute perfection" by revealing the truth behind each photograph.

In other words, Ronan has a talent for telling whether a picture reflects genuine emotion or fake.

He has spent his lifetime taking pictures of perfect happy families. Ironic given that his own family is nowhere near happy.

Ronan does photography work for Gabriel from time to time. He's taken every family portrait of the Agreste family since Adrian was born.

Ronan is a kinder, more loving parent who loves all his children unconditionally.

Unlike his daughter, Noelle, who has no problem with blood and gore, Ronan cannot even endure talking about such graphic details let alone the sight without becoming nauseated. He still tries to support his daughter's interests by asking her about them even if he ends up feeling sick to his stomach.

Has an amazing singing voice. He always sang lullabies to his children when they were younger and still sings to them whenever they are sad or having night terrors.

A combination of stimuli such as flashing lights and loud noises causes Ronan to have panic attacks.

Ronan is old friends with Gabriel Agreste (Gabi Grassette), André Bourgeois (Anaximandre Bourgeois), Harry Clown, and Emilie Agreste.

During his freshman year at university, he met Alyssa at a party, and they both had a drunken hook-up, which resulted in Alyssa getting pregnant with Michael.

Not wanting to abandon his child, Ronan thought that the "honorable" or "right" thing to do was to marry Alyssa, a decision that his friends were strongly against (they had only met her once at that point and they could already tell she was a huge bitch).

They tried to convince him to not go through with it and to think about if marrying Alyssa was what he truly wanted. Gabriel, of all people, even made a big speech about how Ronan should marry for love and not out of obligation.

Despite Gabriel's speech speaking volumes, Ronan had already made up his mind to go through with it, even if he would end up regretting his decision for the rest of his life, he wanted to give his child a chance at a normal childhood.

Despite being in a loveless marriage, Ronan did everything he could to make their lives "comfortable" for them, even if it meant having to put up with his wife constantly berating him.

Tensions began to rise higher in their marriage when their son, Michael, came out as a boy. Ronan was supportive of his son's gender identity, but Alyssa was beyond pissed.

He paid for Michael's hormone therapy and had his name legally changed.

Took Michael to have gender-reassignment surgery at the age of 18 behind Alyssa's back. This act led to a MAJOR fight between the married couple, resulting in Alyssa nearly blinding Ronan with a glass vase that she threw close to his eye and kicking Michael out of the house.

Ronan continues to support Michael and help him through his struggles with depression and pill and alcohol abuse.

Had an affair with a family friend on Anais's last birthday, who also happened to be the widowed father of one of Anais's friends. Noelle witnessed the affair and called for her mother without even thinking first due to the shock.

Their marriage became unbearably worse after that day. Alyssa brings up the affair at every chance she is given and torments and berates Ronan even worse than before.

The affair is still ongoing; they just think that they are doing a good job at keeping it hidden.

The word about Ronan's affair had gotten around at Noelle's old school, which led to the bullying that she was already dealing with becoming worse. This also led to the decision for Noelle to transfer to Dupont.

While Ronan likes Noelle's new friends, the only friend that he doesn't completely trust Lila Rossi. In his words, "There's just something not right about that picture".

Despite his miserable and depressing home life, Ronan has yet to become akumatized. Hawk Moth/Shadow Moth/Monarch is lying in wait for the moment that Ronan reaches his "breaking point" and is at his lowest.

@princessbutterflysposts

[johnschneiderblog]

A feast for the senses

No smoked turkey breasts yet. but I shot (photographically speaking) these two jakes (young males) from my blind on a recent morning. They're legal game but I decided to let them grow up.

So far my timing seems to be a little off; when the big toms are out there, I'm not; when I'm out there, they're not. That's the general lament of hunters and anglers: We shoulda been there yesterday.

But spring is a good time of year for forest baths. The bugs are still asleep for the most part, while everything else is hyper-alive. The green is greener than ever, the aromas are therapeutic and dawn is a symphony of birdsong.

[mariowritesforyou]

Dogs, Bots and Blogs:

A content creation horror story

This is a long one, but my mind can only contain so much madness.

So yours truly decided to start an online presence.

I want to write and be a creative as a vocation, and it was time for me to build the bridges that would connect me to an audience.

My first bridge was built Wordpress, where I'm uploading a web serial currently. It's not terrible, check it out.

Degenerate self-promotion aside, I was quite excited to see who my first subscribers were, people who got to me through the Wordpress Reader, the feed of all the posts made in the platform.

A couple of human-seeming accounts, they had that soulful controlled randomness to them, along with the kindness to give my stuff a chance. I checked their blogs back, until I stumbled on a particularly canine one.

A pomeranian blog.

Nothing but.

I have considered against outright saying the name of the blog or the name that the creator goes by because 1, saying their names might bring more power unto them and 2, I don't want to be cruel.

It's carnage trying to get the blind behemoth of the internet to set its eyes on your content. As long as their methods are not malicious, I am hard pressed to judge someone for how they do the grind. That's why I'm also pasting screenshots that are not too revealing.

It's all gray.

(This is all true for how creepypasta it sounds. I swear to god.)

But yeah, pomeranians.

Pom-poms galore.

The blog howled till its chords were raw about the beauty and caretaking needs of the dog breed, to a point of an almost hypnotic suggestion of it's necessity.

Odd, but garden-variety odd. The internet has seen wilder bursts. I thought that until I took a closer look at the furballs.

Like stuck between mediums, not quite a photograph and not quite a digital painting. Both too blurry and too sharp.

Artificially generated images.

A fraction more odd to my expectation, but still adhering to logic in function.

I can perfectly picture a Pomeranian enthusiast, with unbridled energy and capacity for writing of the children of the German Spitz, but incapable of illustrating their texts on their own. Perhaps wanting to avoid the legal headache of copyright with their incomplete understanding of it, they turn to AI (which is a copyright nightmare of its own, but I digress) in order to get their images.

Cut and dry.

But I wanted the character I had conjured to be real, their love for Pomeranians real, so I checked the posts' content.

I'm not an expert, but the text does have a mechanistic aftertaste to it. Huge amounts of fluff (heh) with aimlessly vague topics. No citations of experts of any kind. No personal experiences with their own pom puppies. No typos.

You've got around 3500 words a post, putting them in a word counter. So, how many posts?

20 PAGES OF 10 POSTS EACH?!

(What are they looking at?)

(There's nothing particular about their eyes.)

This is the first post. No "Welcome to my blog!" post or "This is why I love poms so much" post or "You're pet too, aren't you?" post, but an article about poms alerting impending seizures.

I'm writing this on the 13th of August (Why does that sound like a last captain's log?). 52 days since their last post.

200 posts in 52 days. Approximately seventy thousand words in honor of the breed, like warm drops spilled at a stone altar. This is definitely automated to crap.

There's no heart pumping blood that is creating this.

It's necessarily something else.

(What can you be other ecstatic? Ungrateful?, you little shit.)

The best part (if you're inclined for human definitions of "good" and "bad") is this:

THEY HAVE ANOTHER FULL BLOG FOR JACK RUSSELL FUCKING TERRIERS!!!

They are also following me.

(No one's laughing at you. No one cares enough).

(What is purpose?)

HOW CAN YOU WRITE SO MUCH ABOUT DOGS???????

(Is there any?)

(Where can I find it? Certainly not their eyes.)

(There's nothing particular about their eyes.)

(There's nothing there.)

(Nothing.)