#like everyone was arguing what the legal protections should look like and who they should protect

[lacewise]

According to Harris Tweed themselves, it’s all handwoven in private houses (and according to other sources this is required by law). If that’s true it can’t be machine woven (machinery would be too bulky for a private residence). Any chance you’re thinking of the foot operated treadle looms as machinery or is there other reason to say the manufacturing method has changed?

(In case anyone is wondering the sources confirm they do use a variety of Scottish wool for the tweed.)

Also trademark protections for crafts in the European Union—including fabrics—will have an application process opening up in December next year.

I’m not surprised he didn’t know because, while the legislation was proposed in 2020, there was not a lot of media or professional coverage until November 2023, weeks after it passed. Hopefully, it finally puts to bed a contentious European discussion about “how and when to protect crafts”.

(I only know about the GICI rollout because I have been trying to research this topic since 2021 because a bunch of hinky things are going on around European craft conventions and consumerism.)

The answer to "What the h*ck goes on on those islands to the North and West of mainland Scotland?" by Derek Guy @/dieworkwear on twitter [x]

[drdemonprince]

I don't think I have it in me to be an abolitionist because I read that horrible story about the trans teen murdered in South Carolina and my knee jerk reaction is, those people should rot in jail, ideally forever, or worse. No matter how I look at it I can't make myself okay with the idea that you should be allowed to steal someone's life in such a horrible way and then just go back to enjoying your life. Some stuff is just too over the top evil.

You can have whatever emotions you want about that person's murderous actions, but the reality is that the carceral justice system is one of the largest sources of physical, emotional, and sexual torment for transgender people on this planet.

Transgender people are ten times more likely to be assaulted by a fellow inmate and five times more likely to be assaulted by a corrections officer, according to a National Center for Transgender Equality Report.

Within the prison system, transgender people are frequently denied gender-affirming medical care, and housed in populations that do not match their identity, which increases their odds of being beaten and sexually assaulted.

The alternative to being incorrectly housed with the wrong gendered population is that transgender people are also frequently held in solitary confinement instead, often for far longer periods on average than their non-transgender peers, contributing to them experiencing suicide ideation, self harm, acute physiological distress, a shrunk hippocampus, muscculoskeletal pain, chronic condition flare-ups, heart disease, reduced muscle tone, and numerous other proven effects of solitary confinement.

The prison system is also one of the largest sites of completely unmitigated COVID spread, among other illnesses, with over 640,000 cases being directly linked to prison exposure, according to the COVID prison project.

We know that number is rampantly under-estimated because prisoners, especially trans ones, are frequently denied medical care. And even basic, essential physical care. Just last year a 27-year-old Black man named Lason Butler was found dead in his cell, having perished of dehydration. He had been kept in a cell without running water for two weeks, where he rapidly lost 40 pounds before perishing. His body was covered in rat bites.

This kind of treatment is unacceptable for anyone, no matter who they are and what they have done, and I shouldn't have to explicitly connect the dots for you, but I will. One in six transgender people has been to prison, according to Lambda Legal. One in every TWO Black transgender people has been to prison. One in five Black men go to prison in America.

THIS is the fate you are consigning all these people to when you say that prisons must exist because there are really really bad people out in the world. We should all know by not that this is not how the carceral justice system works. Hate crime laws are under-utilized, according to Pro Publica, and result in few convictions. The people who commit transphobic acts of violence tend to be given softer sentences than the prisoners who resemble their victims.

We must always remember that the violent tools of the prison system will be used not against the people that we personally consider to be the most "deserving" of punishment, but rather against whomever the state considers to be its enemy or to be a disposable person.

You are not in control of the prison system and you cannot ensure it will be benevolent. You are not the police, the judge, the jury, or the corrections officers. By and large, the people who are in these roles are racist, transphobic, ableist, and victim-blaming, and they will use the power and violence of the system to terrorize people in poverty, Black people, trans people, "mad" people, intellectually disabled people, women, and everyone else that you might wish to protect from harm with a system of "punishment." Nevermind that incaraceration doesn't prevent future harm anyway.

You can't argue for incarceration as the tool of your revenge fantasies, you have to argue for it as the tool that it actually is. The purpose of a system is what it does. And the prison system's purpose has never been to protect or avenge vulnerable trans people. It has always been to beat them, sexually assault them, forcibly detransition them, render them unemployable, disconnect them from all community, neglect them, and unperson them.

[sufrimientilia]

whumpy jail thoughts…

obvious cw

Whumpee in jail for a long stint and playing it cool, everything breezy. like this is exactly where they belong

Whumpee framed for a crime or unjustly imprisoned. Caretaker fighting relentlessly to get them out

Forced confessions that are obviously forced. bruises and hollow features, glazed eyes and mechanical words

Whumpee and Caretaker sitting together in a cubicle, separated by glass, voices cracked and hollow between old hand phones

Whumpee fiddling with the metal cord, nervous or embarrassed or traumatized, so shell-shocked by their situation

Whumpee taken off protective custody when they should definitely be on it

“Are you sure everything is okay?” everything is very obviously not okay

new bruises or injuries every time Caretaker visits

After legal efforts Caretaker finally gets visitation. Whumpee getting wheeled in, so beaten by guards and inmates alike they can’t even stand

Whumpee so mercilessly fucked up they can’t even track the conversation, and the guards hold Whumpee’s head up and act like everything is normal as Caretaker cries and pleads behind the glass

Caretaker advocating in vain to do something about Whumpee’s condition. the guards never care

“Prisoner is in infirmary. No visitation.”

“Prisoner denies visitation.” Caretaker never knows if it’s what Whumpee wants or just what the guards say

Caretaker increasingly desperate to see Whumpee. Coming to visit day after day or yelling at the visitation clerk and finally getting kicked out

Whumpee looking so small and frail, hunched over and handcuffed to a silver metal table

Whumpee nothing like their former self, washed out in bright orange or dull beige colors

Whumpee still so intimidating and dangerous shacked from wrists to ankles. Always flanked by guards with rifles, tension so heavy with the very real paranoia he’ll just snap

bruises and abrasions and flakes of red caked around wrists, purple and jagged and ugly

Whumpee in solitude. Alone day after day, stuck with their own thoughts and forced to sit in silence, talk to the walls, stare at nothing but grey and grey and grey. Hearing voices and arguing with themself and spiraling with every thought they didn’t want to confront

Whumpee pacing back and forth until every inch of the cell is memorized and written into their core

Whumpee stuck with a cellmate so vicious, so abrasive, so overwhelming. Not a single moment to himself without violence or discomfort

Guards who are dirty, crooked, corrupt. turning the cameras every time batons are raised or ignoring the violent rackets in the yard and the screams between prison bars late at night

Inmates who run the place, beating Whumpee to make a point, establishing their place as top dog through force and blood and fear

Prison fights, so dirty and rabid. rusty shivs, getting outnumbered, guards who either take too long or tase and beat everyone into submission

Whumpees who can barely eat, barely sleep. Never given the option or just so damn wired up and on edge all the time with damn good reason

Whumpee is always looking forwards to visitation day. anything is a threat to take it away

Forced to be a snitch. threatened by fellow inmates, threatened by the guards, absolutely no one Whumpee can trust

Conversations with Caretaker are heavily monitored. words always loaded and coded, unable to touch and barely able to talk

Visiting Whumpee in the infirmary. Wrists cuffed to the bed, not enough pain relief, obviously neglected

Whumpee shackled to the bed and no one bothering to feed them, food sitting just out of reach

Caretaker promising to get them out of here. Whumpee knows they can't do anything

Whumpee is forced to adapt, be a part of the system. prison only makes them worse and they become even more violent than before

prison riots that put the place on lockdown. Caretaker denied visitation, not being told if Whumpee was involved or is okay

Whumpee getting addicted to whatever drugs get smuggled in. getting forced into doing them or just desperate for an escape or actual pain relief

Caretaker only being able to witness Whumpee's decline in brief increments days or weeks apart. like snapshot after snapshot of worsening abuse they can do nothing about

Whumpees finally getting out and given the same folded clothes they wore when they first got to this place. none of it fits right anymore

[thenightfolknetwork]

Ok so, I'm not...supposed to exist?

I am—er, well, was an imaginary friend. My "brother" was a lonely little boy who was quite neglected looking back, and he wanted someone to spend his time with, a "sister".

So he dreamed, and I came to be. Now, even as a child he wasn't the most imaginative sort, preferring to imagine things he could see and wonder about what was rather than make something new completely from scratch. So, in his mind, his sister looked just like him, just with longer hair. I think that's one of the reasons i'm...like this.

Most children describe their imaginary friends as fantastical, with great glittering wings or neon spots and the like. Most children stop talking or believing in their imaginary friends around a certain age. Most children cannot see someone else's friend. No one, outside of the child, can see an imaginary friend.

Until now? I think? These are all observations I've made.

I remember only existing when my brother was around. We would play and "go on adventures" and just have fun. When it was dinner time, I would sit beside him and eat... but couldn't eat. I would say things to make him laugh, but no one else would acknowledge I was there. I didn't think much of it at the time since..well, I couldn't think. I wasn't real.

As he grew, he must have imagined me growing as well. As he learned, I did, too, and must have adjusted accordingly. Unlike his peers, he was convinced that I was a person and was angry when people told him otherwise.

We got older and he got more insistent when suddenly, people started to play along. Pretending to see me and talk to me when it was clear that they couldn't. I think this was when I started to...feel things? Think?

We fought, my brother and I. He was graduating secondary and heading to Uni. I asked him why he still imagined me when it was clear he didn't need me anymore. He said he did need me. I didn't believe him, we argued, and he left.

I was still there.

Before, time almost seemed to...skip? Think cutscenes from those video games everyone seems to like playing. The day ends, I blink and it's morning, no sleep needed. Brother was distracted? Time skips until he addressed me again.

I've never not been without him before. I panicked. I collapsed against the wall and I felt it. The cool wall, the tears streaming down my face, my brother's hug when he came to apologize. I don't know how to handle it.

When we sat down for dinner, his mum and dad addressed me and asked if I was alright, as if they had always known I existed. They could see me and my distress. I tried to explain, but everyone looked at me confused. They told me that of course i existed, I always did.

But I know the truth. There are no pictures of me in this house. There are no school records of me or medical ones. I have no bedroom or clothes of my own. I did not exist.

I don't know exactly when I became "real" but I am now. I just...I don't know what to do? I wasn't real and now I am and everyone calls me crazy for thinking otherwise. How does one exist? My brother is leaving for Uni soon and everyone expects the same of me, as if I've been accepted into one. I haven't, I've checked.

Why do I exist? Why does no one acknowledge that I never did?

Please.

I'm scared.

I'm so glad you've written in, reader. Quite apart from the existential questions your situation raises, there is also rather a lot of paperwork involved.

It is possible to live in the UK without being part of the civil bureaucratic system – indeed, there are certain isolated genuses whose right to do so has been fiercely protected over the generations. But it's a tremendously difficult way to live if you have any intention of engaging with the economic, education or healthcare systems.

The Bunbury Institute of Manifested Personages should be your first port of call to tackle the logistical and legal difficulties presented by your case. They'll be able to get you sorted with all the documentation you need to prove your existence, including a Certificate of Corporeal Incarnation, which will stand in where others might use their birth certificate.

Once you legally exist, you'll be able to open a bank account, apply for a passport, and essentially make whatever choices you want to make about how to spend the rest of your existence. Which brings me to the real heart of your letter – the emotional impact of your change in circumstance.

Sudden onset incarnation is a profoundly disruptive experience no matter how, when or to whom it occurs. Even if your family were able to understand the situation and support you through it, it would still be an extremely difficult situation to navigate. As it is, the nature of your previous existence and the way your incarnation has taken effect means they're just not able to.

You ask why nobody acknowledges your previous non-existence. Generally speaking, most people find it extremely difficult to the point of near impossibility to really understand divergent realities. It's not that your family are trying to undermine you – they are literally, psychologically and biologically, incapable of understanding how you have come to be.

I strongly recommend you find someone to talk to about this issue as soon as you can. Without your legal paperwork in place, it will be difficult to access mental health support either privately or through the NHS. However, the Bunbury Institute and other such charitable organisations may be able to put you in touch with support groups for others like yourself.

What's important is that you know, you're not alone in this. Whatever your family may believe, your experiences are real and valid. And, now, so are you. It's going to be a big adjustment, figuring out how you want to live in the world now you're here. Try not to get too overwhelmed. Take things one day at a time, try to keep an eye on the positives, and give yourself the grace and time you need to process the negatives. In time, I feel sure you'll be able to build a life that feels right for you.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for laughing at my conservative uncle?

This is an incident that made half of my family go no/low contact with each other, and some still think I was an asshole for it (I think I wasn't), but I wanna get tumblr's perspective. I was 24(F) when this happened, my uncle was 58.

Thanksgiving 2021 my family wanted a big weekend long get together after not being able to do Thanksgiving in 2020 due to lockdowns. Family members took time off work and drove in from out of state so we could all hang out from Thursday to Sunday.

We all have that one uncle who spends every family event saying the most out there racist/sexist/homophobic/transphobic/whatever shit, and mine I feel is worse than most. He has some truly shitty takes like "It should be legal to hunt the homeless for sport", and "If a woman doesn't wanna get raped she should get married at like 16 and never go anywhere without her husband," and "If I ever saw a man pretending to be a woman I would kill him with my bare hands, and most of this nation would agree with me". Truly a piece of shit. Meanwhile my family knows I am extremely progressive, so they do their best to keep me and my uncle separate during family events or else it could (and has in the past) lead to shouting matches.

But here's the thing: I would happily avoid him and not talk to him during get togethers, but he loves arguing. He seeks me out. He'll follow me to the bathroom and bring up transphobic things happening in the news. He'll get up from the dinner table to walk over to me and shove an news article about Trump in my face. If he sees me enter the room he'll start talking LOUDLY about his political opinions. He WANTS to argue with me, and the family considers it my duty to ignore him and calls me an asshole when I engage, because that's just giving him what he wants. But he somehow never gets called out for hounding me, because "that's just how he is".

So it's Thanksgiving 2021. And maybe it's because of the therapy, or maybe it's just because I'm getting tired of avoiding him, or maybe it's the lockdowns that eroded my social graces, but I see him spot me from across the room and get that "ohhh I'm gonna make her sooooo mad" little glint in his eye and start to make his way over, and I don't find it infuriating anymore. I find it deeply funny that this divorced, no job, no bitches, deadbeat dad, that everyone secretly hates, has decided the only way he can get a drop of serotonin in his sad miserable life that HE ruined all by himself, is to turn to reactionary politics in a desperate attempt to get a rise out of his niece.

He starts in on the regular vile transphobic shit (I don't need to repeat it we've heard it all before, imagine the worst anti-trans rhetoric you've ever heard and yup. That's what he was saying) and I don't try to counter his points like I usually do. I just laugh. He keeps going, looking more and more puzzled, and I keep laughing.

He thinks I didn't hear him right. No no, I heard it all, and it was funny. He decides I must be too triggered to speak. No I promise, I'm having the time of my life. He guesses I'm not as smart as I think I am then, if I can't come up with a good counterpoint. Oh I'm plenty smart, and you're plenty hilarious.

Long story short he gets madder and madder that I won't engage until he's red faced and yelling. Family members are trying to calm him down and telling me to stop. I don't. I'm not mad that they're again blaming me for the interaction when I was just standing there and HE came up to ME, it's just really funny at that point. Really funny that the entire family walks on eggshells to protect his precious feelings when they could just laugh in his face like I am. My uncle punches a hole in my grandmother's wall and storms off cussing. The mood of the entire Thanksgiving weekend is ruined, and even my most left leaning family members think I'm an asshole because I KNOW how he is and I should have just walked away.

Should I have just walked away to save everyone's Thanksgiving weekend?

What are these acronyms?

[esposadejoyhuerta]

This acc is becoming an mcu twitter for me but I fucking HATE secretary Ross so fucking much and vision is a dumbass.

Correlation does not mean causation that’s the first thing they teach u in ANY lower division fucking undergrad research class. So wtf was that toaster going on ab with the rise in superheroes and rise in threats like. CorrELATION DUMBASS. You’d have to do years of empirical research to determine causation. Also has any of them heard of critical refugee and border studies???? Reading a SINGLE article from that field would give u the fucking answer. Like come ON. The Sokovia accords shouldn’t even be a fucking debate—it’s a stupid ass idea and the only person I understand besides those who refused to sign is nat’s position of disagreeing but wanting to regain public trust and keep one hand on the wheel. Everyone who wholeheartedly trusted in the accords is fucking wrong. Also I blame Ross for nat’s death. Bc he’s the whole fucking reason thanos won. The scarlet witch should’ve just killed him “so ur saying they’ll come for me” Wanda says but it’s fine baby just kill them it’s ok god I’m so pissed and this is all fake. Also wtf is up w rhodey being like “omg this is the UN” like. No one in any REAL social justice field likes the UN. No one likes human rights studies. Like. They’ve been wrong ab most things and everyone is critical of them FOR A REASON.

Cap’s all like “we failed” after infinity war NO it’s bc everyone scattered yall and u were a DISASSEMBLED team and were very disempowered. These gov officials, the UN, and all these ppl who liked the Sokovia accords, y’all deserve half your loved ones disappearing. You brought this upon your fucking selves now suck it up and deal w the consequences of ur own actions u whiny whores

Edit: oh I did not know there was a whole subsection of mcu fans who r actively anti Sokovia accords and dive deep into what it entailed and how it’s wrong. It seems as tho some ppl in that subsection come from a legal background too which is so cool. Y’all r cool and I’d love to join in on convos w my theory background and comment on how theoretically the accords aren’t for the protection of the ppl and only aim to solidify existing racialized and sexualized nationalist tools such as consolidated military power and borders, which are inherently polysemic and overdetermined in nature (Balibar 2002) are are for those exact reasons that the accords r being drafted and that should honestly be enough to make the general public and world leaders question it in the first place. But anyways. Would love to elaborate one day if let into the fanclub😌

Another edit: im just mad and ranting to the void at this point but y’all who try to argue FOR the Sokovia accords in a legal matter. It straight up DOESNT. MATTER. Bc if u look for even a second at critical social theories, you’d understand that the accords literally cannot work for the people. So you’re arguing for something that strengthens the power of those already in power. Which is fine, but just admit that. Also on the lowest key that’s equivalent to arguing for white heteropatriatchal power. But like. Just admit that. Bc. Again. I repeat, the accords are not FOR THE PEOPLE. Now, we literally don’t know the full content of the accords so there’s only sm we can all say ab the details of it. But as an overall idea, that’s what it does. But if this was a real thing I’d be concerned abt yalls ability to critically think and also that y’all get a say in this country (yikes) ESPECIALLY to that one user I blocked saying that all they needed to see was that cap, a white man, is arrogant, wants to keep his white power, and therefore the accords must be signed, to keep white power in check, then Jesus fuck you’re dumb as hell. Like yes, I had that same initial thought too, but then I THOUGHT AB IT for longer than a SECOND and the same damn thing could be said ab Tony, that his white guilt is clouding his judgement and making him sign. Also non white ppl backed both sides. Like. Use the one brain cell u have for the love of god. Do u rlly think the mcu cares enough to make a racial statement here? And to all Sokovia acc supporters, don’t u think it ended w thanos winning FOR A REASON?! Also. To say “but we need regulation therefore we need the accords” is the same exact thing as saying “we need safety therefore we need cops and the military” like Jesus fuck there r other options. Be creative for a SINGLE SECOND. I hate this world and I hate that I have to share it w ppl who have such smooth brains y’all concern me a LOT

[youcouldmakealife]

David/Jake; looking askance

For the prompt:  Protective David which it basically doesn’t even follow, because David wanted to add like ~backstory, and ~lead up and I am as helpless to David as Jake Lourdes is, though a lot more exasperated about it.

David doesn’t like Tampa Bay.

It isn’t anything personal, really, has nothing to do with the city or with the team, no matter how frustrating they can be to play, especially when Sebastien Boucher decides that night is going to be one of those nights. They happen less than they used to, but they’re still irritatingly common.

It has nothing to do with Tampa, it has to do with how David feels when he’s there. And David’s feeling the mix of feelings he always faces in Tampa: frustrated, on edge, and irritated at everything and everyone. The Panthers are the second game on their trip to Florida, so he’s in a better mood than he would be otherwise, but he’s also jittery, impatient, all the time he’s spent away from Jake coalescing into one last day that feels intolerable after all the rest.

It makes no sense, but it happens every time. Well, every time he isn’t in Tampa on the back end of the road trip, missing Jake more than he rightfully should after a single day.

So he’s already tense before he catches the night’s highlights over a post-game dinner with Raf at the hotel bar, their eyes flicking up occasionally, lingering for especially exceptional plays. And for people they know, David supposes, because he typically would have looked right back down the second he saw two players circling one another — he does not consider that to be a highlight of any game, particularly because it is, by all accounts, against the rulebook, and shouldn’t be encouraged the way it is — but he saw the Panthers jersey, and then a split second later, recognised the way Jake holds himself. He apparently recognises it even when he’s fighting. David wasn’t aware of that until now.

Raf sucks a breath through his teeth when Jake goes down. Not down — not out cold, not his head hitting the ice, all those worst case scenarios that make David go cold every time a fight involves someone he cares about. Thankfully most of them aren’t fighters, with one notable exception.

Jake gets up again quickly, nothing too hurt but, David imagines, his pride, because if he’s remembering correctly, Jarvis probably isn’t even legal to drink yet. When he pulls out his silenced phone he already has texts from Jake waiting, im fine! followed by lost that one lol. 

David does not consider there to be anything worth laughing about.

He also has one from Robbie, who’s sitting with Elliott down the bar, hahaha he’s such a dumbass and David scowls down at it, but he doesn’t send a text arguing the point.

*

David looks it up when he’s back in his hotel room to see what had sparked it. It wasn’t something he would consider an explanation — none of it is an excuse — not retaliation for an earlier hit, or an escalation of previous hostilities. As far as David can tell, it was just Jake trying to get his team invested in the game, down 4-1. 

David’s always found that to be specious reasoning. He’s certainly never grown more invested in a game solely because one of his teammates took a few punches. If anything, he just gets distracted, worrying they’ll be juggling lines for the rest of the game if his teammate gets injured. And even if it did work — wouldn’t that work just as well on the other team? A net zero impact at best is not something worth punching someone over.

He doesn’t say that when he calls Jake, of course, just asks how he’s feeling — fine — and whether he’s icing his face — yes, but David has suspicions that isn’t true, or if it is, it was a cursory icing at best.

“What time are you guys getting in?” Jake asks. “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“Are you even safe to drive?” David asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jake asks.

“Your eye,” David says. It was already purpling in his postgame interview, and David imagines it’s significantly worse now.

“It hasn’t swollen shut or anything,” Jake says.

“That’s not an answer,” David points out.

“I’m safe to drive,” Jake says. “I’ll pick you up at the airport?”

“If I can clear it with the coaching staff,” David says, but they both know that means yes.

*

David deplanes ten minutes late onto hot tarmac and a text from Jake letting him know where his car is. He has cleared it with the coaching staff, as expected, so he splits from the team at the terminal, enduring a parting elbow and wink from Robbie.

Jake pops the trunk so David can put his carry-on in, thankfully not getting out and insisting on doing it himself, the way he usually does. David doesn’t know if that’s because he doesn’t feel up to it, or if David’s finally convinced him that, Florida or not, it’s an entirely unnecessary risk.

When he opens the passenger door he decides it’s probably the former. His eye’s a purple so deep it must look black in worse lights. Even on a sunny day, all David can see is shadow.

“Not as bad as it looks,” Jake says. Either David’s face gives something away, or that’s the way he’s had to greet everyone today.

David imagines he’s heard disapproval from his coaches. He’s also sure that among the back and ass slaps, he’s been chirped by his teammates for losing to a kid, even if that kid was bigger than him. He suspects Allie and Natalie have also chimed in with their opinions on the fight, and he doubts they were complimentary.

“That was a stupid fight,” David says anyway.

“I know,” Jake groans, exactly like someone who has heard that repeatedly since yesterday.

David reaches toward the bruise, livid, cresting his cheekbone, but Jake sucks in a breath before David’s fingers even make contact, and David pulls his hand away, puts it in his lap.

“Sorry,” Jake says.

“You look awful,” David says, and Jake laughs, then winces.

“I know,” Jake says.

“I don’t know why you keep getting into fights,” David says.

“Eh, it’s usually the other guy looking like this, not me,” Jake says.

David frowns. “That’s not better, Jake.”

“You’re right,” Jake says.

“It is better,” David says, “I didn’t mean it isn’t better for—“

“No, you’re right,” Jake says, “it’s not.”

David looks down at his hands, catches sight of Jake’s. They look sore, winter chapped but worse, his knuckles red and raw. He starts to reach out, then pulls his hands into his lap again. Flinches like it’s his own injury when Jake reaches out and threads their fingers.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” he asks, but Jake just squeezes his hand in answer, so if it does, David supposes Jake doesn’t mind.

[torchickentacos]

cmon cmon, talk shit harder, which youtuber was it, what did they do

JKHGKJDFNGKJDFGN okay so I won't say which youtuber because it's a fairly small one relative to the rest of commentarytube but I AM willing to give into rage a little bit. Context- I'd made a post saying that it bugs me that youtubers don't always research topics well before giving commentary on them, my example being cosmetic dentistry (which is an industry that has been under a lot of fire lately- the beauty industry and cosmetic procedure industry as a whole). My issue is with the way that youtubers spread misinformation and fearmongering about these topics and procedures for the sake of 'fuck beauty standards! look at me go! fuck the system! wooo!' rather than taking a realistic approach to these conversations.

I have strong feelings on this topic! I have Ehlers Danlos syndrome (I promise this is leading somewhere). Certain types of EDS have dental implications and complications, and I've struggled with them. I had braces in high school and despite following the care instructions by the letter, I ended up with significant and visible enamel decay around the brackets likely due to enamel hypoplasia (underdevelopment). I opted for a crown on the worst of them and veneers on a few others to cover the damage and as an extra layer of protection (though it's worth noting that veneers are largely cosmetic).

As such, when I see several videos being made with people going 'look what they do to your beautiful natural teeth for veneers :(' (before then showing the procedure for crowns or even implants and then speaking negatively about those who give and receive these procedures), I... have opinions!

It begs the question to me- was my choice a bad one because I played into a predatory cosmetic industry while also dealing with a genuine health complication? At what point are elective cosmetic procedures morally okay? What justifies them? Am I a victim of societal beauty standards or someone who made a good choice for herself? Both? I am genuinely happy with my decision. I haven't regretted it for a second. I've smiled more in the last few years than I have since I was a kid. But am I part of the problem like some people seem to imply?

I'm going to partake in some what-aboutism but I truly feel that it's relevant. What about other elective procedures? They're all exercises of personal autonomy. Are only some of those okay? The person who survived breast cancer doesn't need breast reconstruction on a physical level. Is it still justified? We've seen tons of people arguing about gender reaffirming/reconstructive surgeries even though they save lives. At what point do cosmetic procedures fall under that umbrella? What is and is not okay? What autonomy is and is not frowned upon?

My stance is that the cosmetic surgery industry is predatory and needs better regulation, but ultimately it's a person's choice. Sometimes that choice is influenced by outside factors when it shouldn't be but that's something that people need to take into account for themselves before deciding rather than a reason to make them illegal as I've seen some people put forth as an option. This is a precarious time to be messing with 'which elective procedures are okay and which aren't and which should be legal'. I personally would rather err on the side of personal autonomy in every situation possible.

I believe in a person’s right to cosmetic surgery as an extension of my belief in personal autonomy. I believe in viewing cosmetic surgery as a morally neutral decision. The industry is predatory but I think it also has the capacity to greatly improve lives. I think many things can be true at once and I think that the recent wave of commentary on the industry lacks nuance.

Caveats for if this gains any traction: I did not say that I think everyone should adhere to beauty standards. I did not say that I think the industry is great, actually. I did not say that people should uncritically accept the ideals that are marketed toward them. I did not say that elective surgeries are vital to happiness or presentation of any sort. None of what I said exists in a vacuum and there are infinite complications to my opinions and there are situations in which I might double back on myself, but this is just a general opinion.

[wirewitchviolet]

All people are equal... well, except for Sally of course.

I walked in late on a conversation somewhere on civil rights somewhere and this one sentence jumped out at me somewhere in it: "Neurodivergent queer computer engineers aren't being chemically castrated by the state in my country anymore." I always feel guilty quoting people at random like this, particularly when I agree with the overall point they're arguing, but the specific wording here really struck me because, well, I'm a neurodivergent queer computer engineer and I was totally chemically castrated by the state in my country. Now I'm not sure what country the person saying this lives in, but I don't think its true of any of them.

From context, this seems to be specifically referencing Alan Turing, for reasons I assume you know or can easily look up, and that would suggest we're talking about the U.K. and WOW is that country not an exception here. If I recall correctly there's at least one other country that will full on accept refugees from the U.K. with how badly they're persecuting queer people. And like, yeah, obviously what we're invoking here is a law, at the time, in the place, where being gay was illegal and this one cool nerd who wrecked Nazis' stuff accepted "chemical castration" in lieu of a prison sentence for it, and what I'm thinking about are the hoops trans people have to jump through getting medical treatments they don't need or want to get proper legal recognition and protections, but that's not comparing apples and oranges, that's comparing like... apples and red apples.

I have a larger point than this, but I'm gonna need to take you down a quick rabbit hole with me. I was just about to start going off about how "chemical castration" is a particularly emotionally charged term for testosterone blocking medication, then launch into how those get pushed on trans women to access a lot of medical treatments and rights even when they actively don't want them, and frankly they have really awful side effects for anyone taking them, at least at that dosage, and the more I look into things the more support I see for the idea that we should maybe just give trans femmes various estrogens and trust that if their T levels are too high they'll come down just from that, without having to deal with a powerful diuretic that trashes energy levels and causes other issues. But I like to be accurate, so I double checked, and holy crap what they actually forced Alan Turing to take was diethylstilbestrol. Functionally speaking, that's synthetic form of estrogen which used to be what they'd give trans women (and menopause sufferers, and everyone else who takes it) instead of estradiol, but stopped because it was kind of an extra strength version with more serious side-effects. So turns out, and I'm sorry, there's really no other way to put this- They force-femmed Alan Turing. That's far worse than what I thought he was put through and what I thought he was put through as already pretty monstrous.

But yeah, point still stands. While there's plenty of trans people who can't or don't want to get HRT, for all sorts of reasons (it not working on them, health risks for some people, the point I was going to make about T blockers making people feel awful, potential sexual performance and/or fertility issues, that stuff ain't free, the only options being to push the hormone sliders to absolute extremes of testosterone or estrogens at the exclusion of the other, which doubly sucks if you're nonbinary and actively avoiding that very choice, etc.) it's generally a formal requirement to go pretty hardcore with it for years before you can have anything else done, whether we're talking about other sorts of medical care, or basic legal recognition. Actual literal surgical-removal-of-gonads castration is also required for any sort of legal rights in decidedly more places than you'd think, and plenty of trans people would very much like to keep those before even getting into what an ordeal that sort of surgical procedure is to even access, if it's even possible for a given person.

So yeah, if you're looking at stuff specifically from the perspective of a cis guy who's gay or bi (or from any of the various demographics who'd never be in such a situation) you can look at what happened to Alan Turing, and go "wow what horrible bigotry-soaked times we used to live in. I couldn't even imagine that happening now. We sure have made some progress." And OK, sure, but like... seriously I personally know at least a hundred neurodivergent queer computer engineers who don't have to imagine that happening now, because it's an actual fact of life we really do have to live with, on top of this whole other thing where the horrible effects this had on Turing's body and mind being basically what all trans people have to live with for significant percentages of our lives jumping through hoops for decades to access what we need to correct weird endocrine issues causing that crap to happen "naturally."

Now I'd hope most of us would agree that this crap is horrific and nobody should have to do with it, with this big cognitive divide between people who sincerely believe nobody HAS had to deal with it for decades, because that's what they learned in school, and people who deal with it, and would very much like to stop doing so. And this causes big huge arguments between people demanding basic equality and people who don't comprehend that we don't actually have it and think people must be asking for something else... but you know, there's also bigots. Who not only don't agree that nobody should have to do with it, but were in the room when the sort of laws that ruined Alan Turing's life were struck down (or not actually struck down but we all agree not to enforce them, for now, until they gain enough power to start doing so without too much fear of reprisal), specifically digging in their heels to get some sort of weird compromise where OK they'll give up on making some of these people's lives a living hell, but only if some exception for some smaller group specifically gets carved out so they still have someone to bully and firmer grounds to rationalize it.

And the thing of it is, this pattern is all over the whole civil rights movement. And you know, legislation in general really. OK, we can have government health care for the ultra-poor, but only if we can really screw over people in SOME income bracket, and also sabotage the whole thing with weird arbitrary restrictions. We can give people financial aid, but we have to make the application and renewal processes a full time hell job with a ton of triggers that get it pulled, including getting their feet partway under them financially.

There's been a whole thing in the past 5 years where people are shedding light on how it's not really true that women in the U.S. were categorically given to vote when the 19th amendment passed, pointing out various sub-groups who still couldn't vote, and what sort of legal reforms it took for each to be able (and honestly, there's still plenty who can't for various reasons). And then we have further conversations on how it's not like all these loopholes weren't being discussed within the suffrage movent. People were quite aware, but white supremacists and people who wanted not to alienate white supremacists pushed to exclude all these other people and focus the whole movement on white women specifically.

And hey, speaking of amendments that didn't actually do what we're all taught they did, you ever actually read the 13th? Here's the actual wording:

"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction."

That is a HELL of an exception in the middle there! Slavery is totally illegal... unless we send you to jail first. Oh by the way, we're hiring all these now out of work slave-catchers to work as cops and building more prisons than any other country in the world and having those prisoners do a bunch of manual labor for which the owners of those prisons get paid.

Anyway, the real obvious take away to all of this is that bigots will always cling to keeping some group of people they can kick around no matter what, and efforts to compromise with them will always involve sacrificing people to that sick desire, which is morally indefensible and should never been done.

The less obvious takeaway is that we all collectively turn a blind eye to that because we keep teaching these sanitized "arc of history bends ever towards freedom" success myths rather than be honest and point out how these exceptions get carved out. Pretty sure we'd be in a better place politically if we actually taught kids things like "so that slavery thing the civil war was fought over didn't even actually stop after that. It's still being done today even, because the horrifically evil pro-slavery managed to get this loophole carved out to keep doing it." Let's test my theory or something.

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

I hate L v R

Let me Explain since this is going to need context. According to several political spectrum tests, I land about here:

But morons, especially people with TDS think anyone to right of Stalin is Right Wing.

I criticize Democrats because they claim to represent the Left. They don't. I criticize people to the left of me because let's be fair here, most of them tend to be more extreme and I find value in the middle.

So imagine my shock dealing with wanna be fake right wingers, whom ALSO seem to have TDS meanwhile taking information put out by organizations that have been lying for decades, and swallowing it whole. Then I go on to talk about Dems that have broken law objectively, and rather than be like, "Yeah all that happened and it should still be dealt with", you come at me with basically, "None of that matters because F*ck Trump".

Dude. I don't even CARE for Trump all that much. But when faced with blatant lies and bullsh*t I'm going to call that out. Same as I would people on the Right for similar slander against Biden. Mind you I HATE Biden. However, my stance is, do not make up stuff about a person to make them look worse. If they are already bad, just point out the bad. If you want to speculate then by all means. Speculate. But make sure that it is transparent when you are doing so.

Recently I got into a back and forth with a fake right winger, which is the funniest shit to me because even if he claims that's no his schtick that's how he tries to align himself. Me? Not so much. I'm not pro life so much as people would like me to be, I'm not anti sex work, I'm actually FOR social programs with FAR MORE STRICT guidelines and fundamentally I lack a lot the same views as a right winger or conservative. I have no hate for conservatives. However that same sentiment does not extend over to fundamentalists. Because those people tend to be radicals. (Not all. But most).

But the simple question I proposed is this. When looking at Trump v Biden. Who openly broke laws. I got accused of putting it mildly in regards to Trump, but I followed up with several sources with the stuff I posted. To which I was greeted with more or less, with nothing but more vitriol than anything else. I even had an entire section of my argument about laws that Dems and their contributors also broke OPENLY but they didn't address that point at all. Why? Well either

They are a grifter and fake right winger

or

They are just heavily suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome

Either way it does not matter. I asked a simple question. What LAWS did Trump break. The response was "He lied, and is a liar".

Ok so how is that breaking the law? His speech, like everyone else's is protected by the first amendment. "Well he lied about the election".

Ok. So speech.

"Well he tried to overturn the election"

Ok how? Using the current legal system to which there are rules and laws? Did he weaponize the national guard to overtake the gov? No? Ok did he arm himself and take hostages? No? Did he use an executive order to mandate himself Emperor? No? Ok then what law did he break in "trying to over turn the election" as you put it? Needless to say there was no answer.

Then there was the other, "Laws Trump Broke".

Ok so here is the list.

Quid Pro Quo with Ukraine. Well according to one of the lead speakers in the case, which was a Trump aid at the time, during testimony he stated, "Mr. Trump said specifically that he didn't want anything in return, no quid pro quo, just ask about the thing regarding Joe". Now you might think. "AH HA, Trump targeting his political rivals!" Except Joe had not announced that he was running at all. Nor did he ever even hint at it. No what really happened is that Trump was shown this video:

Now you don't have to care about the source on this. Reason being this is in full context. Biden breaking the law as VP. Because here's the thing. If they are arguing that Trump as president didn't have the right to withhold aid, (which he didn't even do according to the said and phone logs) then Biden didn't have any legal right to do what he did. Never you mind the fact we recently had a dozen or so reports showing likely bribery to Biden by Burisma *which Hunter Biden was on the board of* so they would oust the investigator looking into the company.

So, this accusation against Trump holds no water at all legally unless Biden is implicated as well. And his actions were worse. Both from the point of the Bribery, and the fact he took the actions he did as VP.

The second "crime" we here about is "he incited an insurrection". But in truth, all he did was hold a rally. FBI have been confirmed on the ground at the Capitol, and footage shows that the rioters were small in number, and that mostly it simmered down after Capitol offices took down the barricades, and opened the doors and led people around.

Now, you can say, "oh well Trump's rhetoric". Ok so he shits on everyone. He's mouthy. And he exaggerates. And his "rhetoric" as it were is literally no worse than that as used by most of the Democrats. Hell, several very public officials called people to action to harass right wingers. What was it? "Seek them out, confront them, never let them rest. Never let them escape" yeah. Trump never said anything close to that. Meanwhile:

And she was far from the only person that said things like this. And this to me, no matter what side had said this? I'd equate that to calling for violence. Open calls for harassment. From a public official and again, not the only one. So unless you can show me where Trump directly called for this level of action you have no argument. Because it's at this level where the legality of it gets to a point where what Waters did looks VERY illegal. "Well Trump said fight" ok. I'm what context? Probably the same context that Biden, Hillary, Bernie, Obama etc have no doubt. Or the most famous:

---

Ok guys. This is The Beastie Boys calling for violence. *Eye roll*.

So the next "Crime" Trump committed is "Colluding with Russia". Except the only notion they had to even to potentially even look at this as an angle is a SINGLE phone call, that we now know was made by a Hillary staffer from within Trump Tower, on a Russian bought phone.

---

Ok. So this was false to. Wow. Starting to see a trend here.

Now the most recent "crimes" brought by NY against Trump, are for "over valuing his properties". But here is the kicker. People don't tell banks what they THINK their property is worth. Certainly they can argue it up, but a person approved by the bank comes out to appraise what is being looked at when you take out a loan.

Now. You might be thinking "WOW YOU MUST REALLY LIKE TRUMP!"

Nope. My issue is when you lie about a person in general. Trump is a social Democrat but unlike modern "liberals" whom personally I don't even consider liberals, he's a moderate. If someone does something wrong, yeah, you can call it out. But a lot of the information about him is bunk or grossly exaggerated. His first amendment is protected. Just like everyone else.

You don't have to like him. Hell you can hate him. But if he's really so bad? Why lie.

And this is another reason I hate the whole Left v Right bullshit. How many people out there are STRICTLY L or R? Almost no one. Save the exception being extremists.

I'm not right wing. Mind you call me that if you like, but it's not true. But unlike some people "Sh0eonhead" I'm not afraid to be called that. I just feel the need to make a correction. But in modern day what really IS Left or Right other than borderline useless labels that are meant to signal to people who MIGHT agree with you. Often when I post I ALWAYS try to make a distinction between Leftists and people ON the left. Hell I've made posts about the difference.

But really it's stupid having to argue with a person that appears at least on the surface to lean right, but has more Trump derangement than Bill Maher. Like holy shit. What's more, they can't point out to me SPECIFICALLY where he broke actual law. Only things they think he's guilty of. And when confronted with actual laws broken by Dems...... Utter silence. Honestly? It's pretty telling. And then making as assessment that I must be "a right winger" is the cherry on top. What? Because I pointed out your bullshit? Spare me.

If you like the Democrats so much just say you do. Or hell maybe your just a deranged NeoCon, who knowns now a days.

But again this whole modern Left vs Right thing is so convoluted and stupid. It's been that way for a number of years now but honestly it's just sad at this point. What more me on the left, defending the right from bad faith assholes on the left and from communist scumbags. Because in modern day most conservatives and people on the right do work in good faith. Not so much on the other side of the isle. Which frankly to me is depressing because I'm not aligned with the people I defend on a lot of topics. But when dealing with liars, you have to step in.

So. To the person part of this post is (partly) about. Send me an ask or a message. We can talk on discord or wherever else. Not over text. If you want to prove a point, then prove it. Hell I don't care if you get a burner account for the occasion. Unlike you, probably, I'm not the type do dox another person. And hell if your so inclined you can record too and "make a fool out of me" and post it here on Tumblr. I don't care. I've made my point. You just don't seem to care about the points made. You only seem to care about your feelings. So. Let's be adults about this. Get in touch. Nuance and reading in-between the lines gets lost over text. I'd like to chat.

[apricusnights]

Chapter Seventeen: VNLA Vs. OLIV.

Location: Upper Docks.

Van: "I swear to you it wasn't me!"

Larsen: "I believe you."

Van: "You do?"

Larsen: "You may be a pain in my ass but you're not the kind of person you used to be. Besides, didn't you say you dated that bitch that was on the news?"

Lye: "Date is a strong word...more like she manipulated him and he followed her around like a puppy."

Van: "Annoyingly accurate. Why are you even here?"

Lye: "Saw the report. First instinct was to find you and punch you. Second instinct was that Amorette is a lying bitch and she's obviously trying to frame you."

Both Lye and Van are on guard as a PWSB vehicle pulls up but it's only Jae who steps out of it.

Jae: "Captain." Nodding to Larsen. "Commander Fisher got your message, she's going to get you as much information as possible. I'm afraid we can only buy so much time though."

Viridian makes his way down the dock followed by Nerys and Nava.

Nava: "Whatever she said isn't true. Except the part about me being removed from the company...bitch."

Nerys: "Of course it wasn't true, Van wouldn't do that kind of stuff again!"

Nava: "Again?"

Lye: "We'll go over this later, right now we gotta figure out how to handle the situation."

Viridian: "Let me make a call. I have a plan; it's just going to take a lot of cooperation."

Van: "Team VNLA rides again!"

Nava: "No.."

Van: "Oh come on!"

Location: Hubertus Memorial Lodge, Evergreen Basin.

Violet: "That's a pretty big bounty. Seems a little weird considering we don't even have clear visual of anyone."

Ivory: "I guess everyone is just taking her word for it. She's on the Bundles of Lavender board."

Lapis: "I don't trust her..."

Onyx: "Nor do I however I have to ask the question...why are we all here?"

Violet: "Because I still have your numbers in my aShine and we're all technically bounty hunters. Even if it's first level ones."

Ivory: "I don't mind but Dad is having a barbeque with Mr. Bell tonight, and he won't be happy if I'm not back for it."

Onyx: "Get to the point, what do you want?"

Violet: "I uh, think we should go after Van. Not to ya know bring him in but to talk to him."

Lapis: "You want to get to him before anyone else does, correct?"

Violet: "Well yeah."

Onyx: "Why should we believe he isn't responsible? You're aware of his past are you not?"

Lapis: "Everyone is capable of change."

Ivory: "Uh hate to break up the conversation but everyone else is heading out. We should go."

Onyx: "I want no part of this."

Violet: "Oh come on, we can't have OLIV without the O."

Onyx: "OLIV?"

Lapis: "Cheshire, what else are you going to do? Argue with your father? Watch the bank head eat an entire family size bag of cheese puffs?"

Onyx: "Never again."

Ivory: "Just this once Onyx, help us out and we won't bother you anymore."

Onyx: "Fine, this is the last time."

Violet: "Team OLIV rides again!"

Onyx: "No.."

Violet: "Oh come on!"

Location: Guardian District.

Fisher: "Something about this doesn't feel right."

Amelia: "Bundles of Lavender is being rather protective over their so-called security footage. I've requested it several times and only ever get sent small sections of it or I'm turned away with some legal threats about the military seizing their property or something."

Roland: "I take it this is why you haven't really dispatched anyone to track this guy down?"

Fisher: "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. We're rather busy right now and I'm dispatching our forces as needed based on priority. It just happens this particular situation is low priority."

Kelly: "Amelia, can you come with me? I need your help with a case."

Amelia: "Of course."

Fisher: "Take your time, we've got things under control."

Location: Smokey Gardens.

Nava: "I must admit I'm impressed we managed to get all the way out here without incident. Considering how many people in the city are looking for Van."

Lye: "Well that's easy. Van isn't here, just my twin sister."

Van is currently dressed up in Lye's clothes and wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Van: "I'd say I look ridiculous but look at me, I'm as hot as ever. The tights and the heels make my legs look fantastic."

Jae: "Did you have to flirt with me during the train ride out here?"

Van: "Have to keep up appearances."

Nava: "You don't look as great as you claim. The lipstick you picked is atrocious."

Jae: "We're in the clear, would you please go change."

Van: "Already trying to get me out of my clothes?"

Jae: "I swear if you keep this up I WILL turn you in myself."

Van: "Fine fine, just give me a few minutes."

Van grabs his duffle bag and steps behind a tree so he can change clothes.

Meanwhile, a good distance away.

Ivory is looking through the scope of her rifle.

Ivory: "I've got positive ID on the target."

Violet: "Good job but I have to wonder, how did you know they would be out here."

Lapis: "I work for the Union remember? You think we're not aware of who enters our main district? Especially people known to associate with a wanted criminal."

Violet: "Alleged criminal."

Onyx: "Nevertheless now that Lapis' sources have made our job slightly easier, perhaps you can have that conversation before anyone else arrives."

Ivory: "You know I could probably drop them from here."

Onyx: "Reynard, step away from the rifle."

Ivory: "Fine but if I'm late to the barbeque later you're taking the blame."

Lapis: "Where's Violet?"

Ivory: "Heading directly toward the target.."

Onyx: "Creator help me. Let's go before she does something stupid."

Van steps back out wearing his normal clothes.

Van: "Much better but I will miss the freedom of that skirt."

Lye: "Were you..wearing anything under that?"

Nava: "You need to burn that skirt."

Jae: "Did everyone bring your weapons?"

Van: "Obviously."

Jae: "Good because I think someone is making their way over here."

Van: "Hey Nava, where did you get the staff?" Nava: "None of your business." Van: "Your boyfriend give it to you?" Nava: "Fiancé." Lye puts her hand over Van's mouth before he can say anything else. Jae: "We don't have time for this."

Jae turns and raises his weapon.

Jae: "Halt! Identify yourself!"

Violet: "Whoa whoa wait! It's Violet Goodfellow, I come in peace."

Lye: "Ok but what about the bimbo behind you pointing a rifle at us?"

Ivory: "Bimbo?!"

Violet: "Ivory! Lower your weapon!"

Van: "And I thought Nava had some big ones."

Nava glances down at her chest and attempts to resist the sudden urge to hit Van.

Lye: "Van...now is not the time."

Van: "You're the one who called her a bimbo. She's not even blonde!"

Violet: "Hey!"

Ivory: "Can you stop talking before I put a bullet through you and bring in whatever is left of your corpse?"

Lye: "Why don't you try your luck tits for brains!"

Lapis: "Can you all just shut up for a minute!"

Onyx: "We just want to talk, rather Violet wants to talk. I was dragged into this nonsense."

Nava: "I know the feeling."

Lye: "Wow, he's kinda cute."

Jae: "Aren't you dating the guy from the theater?"

Lye: "Listen we're open to.."

Violet: "Ok listen, I have a feeling you didn't do what they say you did but everyone else at the lodge doesn't really care."

Van: "I didn't. The bitch you saw on tv is an ex..something of mine and she's throwing me under a bus."

Violet: "Oh my god, are you serious? This is one of THOSE situations. Ok ok we just need to get some proof of.."

Before Violet can finish talking a shot is fired. Jae barely manages to dodge out of the way. The shot is powerful enough to split a tree behind him in half.

Violet: "Ivory!"

Ivory: "I didn't!"

Lye: "So much for talking huh bitch!" Lye leaps into the air and kicks Ivory making her fall backwards into Onyx.

The two groups raise their weapons and back up. Violet and Nava are a bit unsure of themselves as they are the least experienced.

Jae and Lapis are the first to clash against each other. Ony squares off with Lye, Ivory faces Van, and Nava goes against Violet.

Jae: "You realize you're currently trying to assault a PWSB officer, right?"

Lapis: "A PWSB officer who is in the process of aiding a wanted criminal."

Lapis and Jae seem evenly matched, much like their clashes on the Hecaball field both find themselves unable to get past the other's defensive skills.

Onyx leaps back and flings out the wires from his gauntlets in hopes of tripping up Lye. Lye however spins around, ducking and leaping over the attempts. Wires whipping through the air as she effortlessly avoids them in a strange sort of dance. She gets close enough to kick Onyx, but he uses his wires to grapple on to a tree branch and pull himself away momentarily.

Lye: "What's the matter cutie, gettin tired already? Don't give up now, you're not a bad dance partner."

Onyx seems a bit flustered for a moment but shakes it off.

Violet tries desperately to create distance from Nava, but the other woman seems shockingly fast and keeps up with her relatively easily. Nava however isn't well trained, and her strikes are still a bit sloppy which leaves Violet plenty of opportunities to avoid them. Violet finally manages to use a smoke grenade to create distance, but the smoke also makes it impossible to aim at her intended target, letting Nava slip away behind cover.

Ivory realizes she can't get the distance she typically enjoys so she switches her rifle to its axe form and takes a swing at Van. Ivory's weapon is heavy and though the swings are powerful they are slow. Something Van takes advantage of, dodging out of the way and landing a few hits against Ivory. She winces as the wind is knocked out of her. Van moves in close but Ivory is able to slam her axe into the ground which sends debris flying toward Van. He shields his face for a moment which allows Ivory to land a strong punch to his stomach sending him stumbling back.

The clashes continue until both teams fall back at the same time to regroup.

Van: "Listen up, we need to switch things up a little. They are probably thinking the same thing. Lye, you go for Lapis. I think you can do better against that defense. Jae, you take Ivory. Rush her, keep her trapped in close combat and keep the pressure up. Nava, stick with Violet. You're both inexperienced here and it's your best bet. She's got pistols, I don't think she's good close up so try and keep to that. I'll go for Onyx. Remember, we're not trying to seriously hurt anyone here but we gotta take them out before anyone else shows up and this gets worse."

Onyx: "Ok everyone come closer. I've been watching how they fight and believe I have a strategy. Fighting them one on one is going to get us nowhere fast. The first thing we need to do is start switching opponents as quickly as possible. If we keep rotating it will catch them off guard. Secondly, we need to work together. They aren't used to each other yet. We may not be either, but I believe we have a better understanding of each other's abilities. Except the siblings of course. So, we need to pull off a few team attacks, listen up..."

Location: Bundles of Lavender Corporate Headquarters.

Kelly leans up against the wall as one of the security guards talks to her.

Kelly: "I know I know Frank but I have to ask again. We need to look through that footage. I know it's not your call but just see if you can do me a solid alright? At least bring it up with the bigwigs."

She waits until the security guard leaves the room before slipping a small device under one of the computer consoles.

Kelly: "No go? You know Commander Fisher is not gonna take no for an answer. I'll probably have to keep coming back here. Next time we'll get lunch or something. Yeah see ya."

She leaves the building and makes her way to a vehicle outside where Amelia was sitting with a laptop.

Kelly: "You good?"

Amelia: "Remote hacking into Bundles of Lavender wasn't something I expected to be doing today but yes, I'm good."

Kelly: "They won't find the device?"

Amelia: "It's designed to become useless after a few minutes. Even if they find it, they won't know what it did. Now let me sort through these files."

"I don't for the life of me know why they don't want us to see all of the footage. I know they claim they cleaned it up as best they could, but I could at least give it a shot."

"That's weird, seems they were in contact with the Lavender family's yacht relatively recently despite claiming they don't know where it is. We'll have to get this to Larsen, see if he can recognize anything they say about a location at the time."

"Here we go, security. Let me see if I can find footage from the supposed riots. Yeah ok, it is a little blurry but nothing I can't fix. Just give me a minute or two."

Kelly: "Hurry up, I need to drive in a minute. Pretty sure they are starting to suspect something." Starting up the vehicle.

Amelia: "Shit, the device is running out of power. I just need to...HA got it...wait that's not.."

Kelly: "Just send whatever you have to Fisher, we gotta go." She smiles at the guards before pulling out of the parking lot.

Location: Smokey Gardens.

The teams are once again in the midst of combat. Van's strategy seems to be working as VNLA gets the upper hand against their opponents save for Nava and Violet who both seem evenly matched. This doesn't last long as Onyx gives a signal and OLIV suddenly pulls away and switches opponents. Van tries his best to adjust, shouting out instructions to anyone who got caught off guard.

Onyx once again signals for a switch, VNLA struggles against the new tactic, but Van notices Onyx's tell. Right before the next switch happens Van instead signals a switch of their own, VNLA once again getting the better of OLIV. Onyx realizes this portion of the plan no longer works but tries to keep his team paired in favorable matchups.

Onyx pulls his team back for a moment before they all suddenly rush forward. Ivory providing cover fire while Violet tosses out a flashbang that forces VNLA to group together. Onyx uses his wires on the blinded VNLA and manages to wind them through the legs of the opposing team which lets Lapis rush forward and bulldoze through VNLA making them trip over the wires and fall to the ground.

Lye: "Ohhhh gonna tie me up now? Kinky.." Winking at Onyx.

Onyx stops and raises an eyebrow which gives just enough of an opening.

As the rest of OLIV approach VNLA Jae stabs his sword into the ground while it's touching several of Onyx's wires. Lye reaches over and sends a current of electricity through the sword and the wires shocking Onyx and blowing him backwards. Ivory and Violet are struck down when Van leaps up and strikes them directly in their weak points rendering them unable to move temporarily, giving Jae and Lye enough time to send them both down to the ground. Van seems slightly confused about how he was able to do such a maneuver.

Lapis is the only one left standing as he's now facing all four members of VNLA. Lapis' defense proves to live up to the hype as he's able to at least for a time fend off the attacks of four opponents. It does however quickly deplete his energy. He's finally disarmed by Nava who manages to use her staff in a way that catches Lapis' weapon and fling it away from him.

By this point Onyx, Violet, and Ivory are slowly making their way to their feet. The exhaustion beginning to set in on both sides. Ivory covers Lapis as he retrieves his weapon but he's barely able to hold it.

Van: "You wanna keep going? I could do this all day.."

Onyx: "No you can't."

Van: "Can so!"

Onyx: "No you most certainly cannot!"

Onyx and Van stare at each other as an alert is suddenly broadcast over the emergency network.

Fisher: "Attention any and all bounty hunters, and local law enforcement. Van Marigold is not responsible for any of the wrongdoing he has been accused of. We have obtained security footage and have cleaned it up. The video you are currently seeing clearly shows that the perpetrator was NOT Mr. Marigold. His bounty is officially cancelled."

Location: Bundles of Lavender Corporate Headquarters.

Amorette: "Damn it, how did that wench get ahold of the footage. Ah well, doesn't matter. They can't pin the blame on us for anything at this point. I'll just issue an official apology. Someone get the camera crew ready, and I need my makeup artist NOW!"

Location: Smokey Gardens.

Violet: "I KNEW IT!"

Van: "Well...this is incredibly awkward, isn't it?"

Another shot is heard. Everyone turns to Ivory but she's looking at the ground between the two teams. A container of sorts is sitting in a small crater. Before anyone can react, the container bursts open releasing some sort of gas. One by one OLIV and VNLA are rendered unconscious. Before he falls Jae manages to tap the PWSB tracker button on his aShine, sending out an alert.

Several individuals in rabbit masks emerge from the woods.

White Rabbit (Biker): "Huh, was kind thinking they'd take each other out but whatever. This could be fun too."

White Rabbit (Scythe): Tilting her head and shifting her rifle back to its scythe form.

White Rabbit (Biker): "Ok, you know what the Queen wants. Load em up and get em out of here before anyone shows up. Let's go sis."

White Rabbit (Scythe): Nods her head and watches VNLA and OLIV get loaded into a vehicle before heading off.

To be continued.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Time

I covered this loosely in the Astronomy and Geography doc.

A time consortium wasn't set up until about the 19th century and if you poke around you can still find the old calendars.

But it's not precise that ancient civilizations couldn't figure out calendars. It's reported Aztecs and Mayans (the older civilization, not the current ones obviously. They aren't dead.), had a really accurate calendar. There was also a calendar I believe in Western Europe which Waldemar Januszczak covered in his series about "Dark Ages" art (You can find it free and legally on Youtube, BTW) that's more accurate than our current effed up calendar.

If you're dealing with Nomadic peoples, YES, this is true, fuzzy logic was a part of it, but it's not like the industrial nostalgia? or you could say fantasy of them, in the wilds, no contact with civilization ever, and never bothering anyone. (which I heavily covered). So yeah, they'd still learn things like oh these people think it is their season called "Spring" and there is still tension these days between being city dwellers and nomadic, such that many of the nomadic groups are dying out and are UNESCO and government protected. (This is why I find agricultural only boring. C'mon. You got tension here you can play with and you are skipping it to be what? Lazy?)

But yes, often seasons told you when to do things and in order to remember, they created religion to also tell you to do things.

Like Easter: OMG, you better make those rams eff those Ewes or you're screwed. People keep arguing it's about planting. But nope. It originally was that, because most Agrarian societies outside of Europe don't have a special "Spring planting" holiday, because if you've done gardening, you know there is no such thing. What you really need the holiday for is to make sure if you're in a pastoral society to get your animals to mate with each other. Because if you miss the timing on that you will have nothing to sell.

Worker's Rights

Likewise, the idea that workers did not fight for rights back in the day... Nyahh... Europe, after the Bubonic Plague waves, workers were like, Sure, I'll work your land if you pay more. Some people attribute this to the rise in slavery of West African peoples (one of the contributing factors along with Al Andalus, the Berbers, the Mongols and the commandeering of forests are the main ones I've seen listed. And some say also climate Cold climate==needs to burn wood during winter.)

There were worker's riots in China, Japan, Korea, Taiwan, basically any country I've studied. So yeah, not formal union, but yes, unification for better rights and people resisting all of the time. I mean, I think Ben Jonson would be devastated to find that State conformer, William Shakespeare was the more popular one. The man challenged NOTHING, and Ben Jonson was jailed MULTIPLE times on sedition for writing nasty things about the Queen and his play burned.

Even William Shakespeare was a bit daring when he wrote that boys should not be forced into acting troupes for her majesty's pleasure and included it into a play for 3 lines. like a coward.

But yes, workers did take siesta in Spain, but no, sometimes it was that bad as worker's hours were long and hard. Sometimes you simply had to work overnight and no, you did not get extra pay for it. Your only pay was not going to the pillory, as in Europe, or in places like ancient China, getting flogged for not paying your taxes.

So if you want to plant an uprising, so right ahead. Not everyone is going to conform or agree just because you've set up a Monarchy, democracy or whatever you've decided on.

It is worth looking at old devices for time. My personal favorite is the Islamic Empire ones, but I'm clearly biased. I mean Automatons without electricity. I'll repeat that a thousand times. The whole thing blows my mind. Who needs Rube Goldberg when you have Ismail al-Jazari. Look at the Elephant clock and then come back here and dare to argue that you are not amazed. If you aren't I don't know what's wrong with your sense of engineering.

Clock towers in towns existed going far back and often religious institutions were in charge for keeping the time for the citizens. (Outside of Europe too? Yes.)

It's not that people in non-electric civilizations had no time keeping, it was that there was no precise time keeping or they delegated the duty to other people.

Watches do not need batteries, but would be expensive. People told the time by the tides. Organization of time was essential for mostly temperate climates and pastoral peoples to do things like breed their animals, harvest their crops, (Another reason for celebration of the Summer Equinox... Agrarian society? What crops you grow changes after the Summer Equinox.)

Sometimes the clock would be put in the middle of the square. And the ability to keep time was for the rich.

While we're here, BTW, be sure to look up Second Sleep. Your reliance on electric light is too much. And in movies, they light everything up with extra lights around that candlelight. So don't delude yourself. Look up rush lights, for example.

When people talk about being able to write late at night by one candlelight on old dirty tallow candles... my question to you is have you tried it and taken a picture of yourself trying it??? It's not a fun time. And remember beeswax is hella expensive for the lower class.

Break your industrial mindset on everything. Global connected world, with what technology are you doing that? Horses aren't cars. Information is going to travel slower (BTW, My Lady Jane does this really well). Justify, justify, justify or find another means. And remember, you do not have to centralize your gender definition, your sexual orientation definitions or stick to "man or woman" define them the same... if you truly build an other world, how much consistency are you going to believe before you think the author is being lazy? lol I walked 3-5 blocks in this city of mine and I'm in a different socio-economic sphere. C'mon.

Slight note about the system of food.

'cause adding it to the large doc might crash my computer?

I've realized that though historical fiction minds this more when set in pre-industrial times, that often fantasy set in agricultural societies doesn't seem to do this, though it should.

So I'll give you an example...

Almost everything in Korean food is centered and bred for two things: Kimchi and soy sauce.

But what you don't realize in your industrialized state how freaking long it takes to make these things and how much planning is involved and how much you have to mind the seasons in order to make it correctly.

Kimchi:

Baekchu (or other vegetables) that's often harvested in fall.

The salt, which was traditionally sea salt was harvested in the spring and summer months.

Garlic is a spring to mid summer crop.

The sweet rice that goes into winter kimchi takes a ton of work to make and can take from Spring to fall.

The fish sauce that goes into Kimchi that helps preserve it for over a year, takes and ENTIRE YEAR to make. Yes, a year. You really, really have to plan on that. And what do you do if the fishing is poor for that year?

Spring onions are faster to grow, but you still have to time it for the fall kimchi making.

The fish are seasonal. For example, Yellow Corvina is taken in Korea in the spring. Shrimp in the summer (June), and anchovies in early spring to fall.

Your timing has to be impeccable and you need an entire year to plan this one dish.

Meanwhile, you, industrialized person, take for granted that you can get fish sauce any time you like and can pour it over kimchi.

In fantasy this could add flavor to your fantasy make up, if your character can only get this dish once a year. It can add political unrest (What do you mean the salt harvest was poor and we're left with the shitty metallic salt), because your characters in an agricultural society will be subject to weather changes, which you get when reading historical fiction and so on. Three seasons of poor harvest, daaaamnn... the people might overthrow their government. There might be new religions that pop up, there might be uprisings because the King and Queen are eating feasts every day while the peasants are eating things that are empty calories.

What I'm saying is that you can't be too entrenched into industrial mindset if you're not writing an industrial setting.

That orange is seasonal and only comes about in a connected system that has winter and a warmer climate.

Maybe there are key foods for your climate that are highly treasured or sought after. Mandarins once were. Cacao. Think a bit about those things and how it might interact with the larger world. When does your plant mature and when can it be harvested? is it different from different climates? There's wars that have been fought over food. (Tea, famously, at least a few times).

A staple crop failing is going to have devastating consequences.

And yet, often in fantasy, I often see people going, ya know what I can eat in the dead of winter, strawberries. Do we have greenhouses? No. Did we have freezers? No. But you know what my character is eating? A strawberry. Yeah, think about that. Strawberries don't preserve well. So plan out the timing of your dishes a bit (to the climate and subsistence system) and it can give a bit of background worldbuilding to your dishes and food.

I do have to say that the small mentions from Rings of Power n what's in season or not and why kinda made me feel like the world and the traveling was more "real" with the Harfoot. There's small references to fall v. spring crops.

[davianzev]

Complete Your Home Inspection Needs by Hiring a Professional

House flipping, like many other enterprises requiring substantial capital outlay, employs a large workforce. It is the investor's responsibility to ensure that everyone working on the property is competent to do so. A House inspector greater Chicago is a crucial but often overlooked part of any construction project.

Most buyers put a great deal of faith in the information provided by the estate agent, which typically includes persuasive language designed to close the deal. They extol the building's aesthetics and argue that the purchase will be financially beneficial to the buyer. However, they rarely make a point of going to the basement to look for signs of problems there, like a broken wall or floor.

Finding a professional to assess the level of damage to your home is a crucial first step in fixing it. This will help keep roofing repairs and other unanticipated costs at bay. The buyer suffers the consequences regardless of whether the seller was aware of or unaware of the irregularity.

Not just anyone should be recruited to perform a pre-purchase House inspection Greater Chicago. One must complete the necessary education at institutions that provide courses in this discipline. There are several accredited schools that provide training and education for persons interested in careers assisting others in securing stable housing.

If you want to start a business in a certain state, you will need to get the appropriate certification from that state's government after completing the necessary education and training. It is vital to remember that besides the state, no other organization offers certification for home inspectors. Thus, no one without an official stamp on their paper can conduct an inspection.

Associations representing those working in this field have been formally established in each legal jurisdiction where they conduct business. Verifying a practitioner's legitimacy with the regional office is important before signing on the dotted line. A home buyer can utilize this information to protect themselves from fraud.

Experience is invaluable in any field. Hiring an expert who understands what to inspect and verify can improve the quality of Home inspection Greater Chicago. The state keeps track of all doctors and nurses.

Since most of the buyers are going to see your property for the first time, hiring an expert also provides you with an objective viewpoint. Your feelings as the owner may prevent you from objectively assessing the state of your home. Sadly, this is not uncommon among homeowners who deny the existence of a problem rather than try to find a solution.

Hiring a professional home stager to do the final touches can help you get the most out of your house's sale price. A home stager can increase your house's perceived value and curb appeal. The result may be a more lucrative sale than you had anticipated.

Keep in mind that you should have your home inspected before putting it up for sale. A nearly sold house may fall through due to cosmetic flaws like a broken window or dripping sink.

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

[nsomniacsdream]

I want to talk about my depression but I never seem to get it across right. I'm not self hating. I'm environmentally depressed, which means it's the circumstances of my life that fuel my depression. OK.

Now when I talk to people about this, they almost always make it about economic circumstances, which is part of it I'm not gonna lie. People tell me I'll get better once I start making more money, just switch jobs, blah blah blah. And I get to tell them that I'm solidly middle class. According to the last census, I'm in the top ten percent of earners in my county. Do I have problems money would solve? Sure. But I'm not skating bills or anything at the moment.

And then, they ask what I'm so depressed about then? *Gestures broadly* Look around you man! The roads are falling apart. The school is completely underfunded. This entire town is dying by inches and slowly getting bought up and turned into apartments the people who have been here for generations can't afford. Every year, fewer high school graduates stay because THERE IS NOTHING FOR THEM HERE. Our local government doesn't even try to hide that they're corrupt when they're not incompetent (the newspaper headline story last week was about our county human services department begging the county to use the federal money they were getting for the actual purpose they were legally required to use it for). Half our state has voted to explore seceding and becoming part of Idaho. This is OREGON, and I constantly see rebel flags and there is more than one vehicle in town COVERED in Trump signs and flags. Like there is a truck that completely blacked out their back window with Trump stickers (which is illegal, there's no wiggle room there when you literally can't see out your back window), and they have been driving around every day for 6 years now.

Great, I can afford to distract myself, but our country has gotten worse every year since I've been alive. There weren't credit checks when I was born. I was born the same time top tax rates got cut to nothing. People talk about civil rights got better in that time but what about now? We are having the gay marriage debate AGAIN. Abortion is no longer federally protected. The federal government, all of it, is less competent than the worst satire.

And here I'm always told "well why even pay attention to any of that, it doesn't affect you", and how? How does whether or not my neighbor is allowed to make a private Healthcare decision not my problem? How is whether or not my brother is allowed to just exist without getting hate crimed not my problem? How do you live your life as if nothing happens beyond the horizon when it all trickles down to you eventually? Why do I see you hyperventilating on Facebook over imaginary gun laws every week if none of this should bother you?

This is *depressing*, because I was raised being told every day that America is such a great country and fucking WHERE?! is America so great? Genuinely tell me what I'm supposed to be proud of? I've spent my life from one side of this country to the other (literally), and every single place is just the ruins of what is left from the middle of the 1900s. The town I live in now, everyone still talks about the Mill, half the directions you get involve "going towards the Mill" and the mill closed 40 years ago. It was torn down 30 years ago and turned into a storage facility. This and so many other towns DIED before the turn of the century and they're just languishing on the tiny amount of life support the states provide. I am pretty sure that before 2040, this town will not have a single family still living here that was here pre-2000.

I'm ranting again. I hate talking about it because once I start listing stuff, people want to argue. But you're not going to convince me that an entire town being owned by 3 people is a good thing. You can't convince me that the future of work is company towns and that's not a dystopia. You can't look me in the eye and tell me that every single thing I use in my life becoming a subscription service isn't something we should stop. Look at your kid and tell me that selling all of our water to private companies to sell back to us at 6000% markup is something you're so looking forward to them experiencing. We. Live. In. An. Unacknowledged. Nightmare.

Of course I'm depressed.

[cherienymphe]

Gangsta’s Paradise (Michael Gray x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON BORDERLINE NON-CON, blackmail, loss of virginity, (for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that Finn Cole is taller than what he is okay)

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: an agreement with the Peaky Blinders is almost a done deal...until you catch the eye of Michael Gray. You’re suddenly thrust into the equation, and your father must decide between losing everything or losing you.

~

Soft lips brushed over your bare shoulder, even softer hands guiding the strap of your slip down your arm, fingers dancing along your skin. Despite the cold weather outside, your room was sweltering, and you pinned it onto the man behind you...the man who was currently unwrapping you like a gift. With fear coursing through your frame, you realized that in a way, you were a gift. A pretty little gift given to the big bad gangster in exchange for resources and protection and whatever else your family needed.

Your eyes fell closed, and you thought back to the day where your father’s desperation had first begun. Desperation that you had ultimately underestimated.

You had been nervous as you tended to the dishes that day, glancing at the clock every now and then. Cleaning and tidying up was how you coped, how you attempted to calm yourself. It normally worked, but today was an exception. Looking around, you realized that there was nothing else to clean, and with a sigh, you leaned against the wall, biting your lip.

The rest of the family had gone to Birmingham. They’d gone to handle...business, and you being the only girl in the family since your mom died, you weren’t allowed to have a hand in the business. It had been a great deal of bitterness for you for years, ever since you were old enough to understand what was really going on, but now you had gradually accepted your father’s reasoning.

Your father and brother and uncles had left early, taking some of their best men with them. You knew they only did that for serious matters, and you had been worried ever since you saw them leave. You had scrubbed the house from top to bottom, and now you had nothing to do but wait. It was fortunate that you didn’t have to wait for much longer, hearing several cars come down the driveway.

No one greeted you when you opened the door, faces pinched and sullen, and you knew then that things didn’t go as expected. The only one to acknowledge you was your father, the older man pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before trudging inside with the rest. You swallowed, conflicted on whether or not you should say anything, but your worry got the best of you.

“How did it go?”

Before your father could answer, you heard your brother slam his hand into the wall, the pictures shaking from the force.

“Peaky fucking Blinders,” he spat, and your blood ran cold.

Your eyes met your father’s, and he gave you a look as if to say leave it alone, but you were in shock. You had never imagined that your family would start doing business with the likes of them. Everyone had heard of them, knew who they were and what they did, and the thought of your family being involved with them in any way was a terrifying one.

Everything those men touched turned to poison

“Father,” you had chided as soon as you walked into his office moments later.

From behind his desk, he held a hand up, the other pressed to his forehead as he sighed.

“Not now, Y/N,” he said, sounding tired.

“You promised that things would be different,” you whispered, ignoring his words. “You told me that we would start becoming legitimate, legal. That we’d start doing things right.”

“Y/N-.”

“You promised.”

He slammed his hand down onto the wood, making you wince.

“They’ve got their hand in every cookie jar that matters. Thomas Shelby is a political man, now-.”

You cut him off with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest.

“Only a fool would get mixed up with the likes of them.”

He shot you a scathing look, and you swallowed, looking away with a sigh.

“We need their influence, their resources...their allyship.”

Your eyes widened at this, realizing that your father intended for much more than a one time business deal.

“You can’t be serious,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond right away, simply heaving a sigh before turning his attention to the paperwork before him.

“I will do my best to keep you away from all this, but prepare yourself for seeing a lot more of them, eh?”

He didn’t say anything more, and when it became apparent that that was the end of the discussion, you turned and left. You could hear your brothers and uncles murmuring in the kitchen, going over the day’s events, no doubt, and you made your way upstairs. You never knew exactly what it was that your father sold, but you figured that drugs and alcohol was the gist of it. He’d been in the business for a long time, and he’d made a promise to you that he was going to put a stop to it. That he’d start making money the right way.

Getting mixed up with the Shelbys, the Peaky Blinders, was not the way to go about it.

You understood the appeal though. They had power, resources, influence. With them as an ally, people would think twice about screwing your family over...but was it worth it? Was it worth the increase in violence? Putting the family in the kind of danger you could never even imagine? Was it worth the devastation and death that seemed to follow them like a plague? The answer was simple.

No.

Your father didn’t seem to care about any of that though. Day in and day out, for weeks, you watched your family leave early in the day and return late in the evening, looking more irritated than they did the previous day. It was safe to say that negotiations with the Peaky Blinders was not going as expected. The frustration and annoyance was plain as day on your father’s features, and even though nary a word was uttered to you about anything, you could feel the tension mounting in the air.

The first time you actually met someone of the infamous family, it was a Wednesday. It was a rare day within the past few weeks in which your father was at the house. He had been holed up in his study all day when there was a knock on the door. You had blinked in confusion, trying to recall if your father had mentioned anything about company, but you had only just begun to move when you heard your father’s heavy footsteps traveling down the hallway.

“Stay back.”

Normally you would have argued against him, especially with a tone as harsh as his had been, but something in his voice made you listen. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he walked that made you understand the severity of the situation. You remained in the living room, listening as your father answered the door, unfamiliar voices eventually joining his.

Two men who you’d never seen before joined him in the hallway, standing between the kitchen and living room. You had slowly put your book down, story long forgotten at the sight of the strangers, and your movement caught their attention. Both of them were wearing hats and long coats, but you could still tell that their hair was dark. The lankier of the two was a bit taller, a mustache adorning his face while the other moved a toothpick around between his lips, a faint smirk crawling onto his face at the sight of you.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” the taller one greeted, and you quietly returned the greeting.

Your father cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

“Arthur, John...this is my daughter, Y/N. She likes to look after the house when I’m gone.”

It was the truth. After your mother’s death, the house was where you felt most comfortable, and you were more than happy to lock yourself in its walls. Especially while the rest of your family ventured out.

“Darling, this is John and Arthur Shelby. I’ve been doing some business with them, remember?”

You fought the urge to sneer at your father, keeping your gaze on the strangers in your home instead.

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said with a tense smile.

Knowing you so well, your father could recognize the displeasure on your face, and if the other men before you noticed it too, they didn’t speak on it. You watched as they followed your father upstairs to his study, the younger of the two tipping his hat to you before departing. You remained there for a time before slowly exhaling, turning to make your way outside. You paid no mind to how long they stayed, spending the rest of your day away outside in your garden. Your mother always kept one, and you had done the same since she died.

That was the first of the few times you ran across Arthur and John Shelby. They were the only two that ever came by the house, greeting you with tipped hats and secretive smiles. You had grown somewhat used to their presence and faces, but not enough to be completely comfortable around them. You didn’t meet the rest of them, didn’t meet him, until weeks later.

“What?” you had breathed, staring at your father in disbelief. 

You watched as he rubbed his forehead, face pinched and eyes clouded over, telling you that he disliked this as much as you did.

“You’ll come to the next meeting with us,” he repeated, and you let out a sharp breath.

So you had heard him correctly.

“...why?” you eventually asked, sounding much calmer than you actually were.

“I know you hate them, but those Shelbys do have some morals about them. Things have been rather tense lately. It seems that we just can’t come to an agreement,” he sighed out, leaning against his desk. “...and I fear that things could become...rowdy.”

He didn’t continue, but you were smart enough to guess where this was going. When the realization hit you, your heart dropped, and you stared at your father like he was a stranger. The man you knew, the man your mother had married, would’ve wanted you as far away from any business dealings as possible. Somehow, the very same man was standing before you and suggesting…

“You think my presence at the meeting will make them behave...make them think twice about doing anything...violent,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, and you clenched your jaw.

“...and if it doesn’t-?”

“It will,” he argued.

“...but if it doesn’t…” you repeated with more force. “...then what? What will you do if they bring out the guns and razor blades right there? What will you do if they decide to use me to make you agree to their terms?”

Your father was silent, and you stepped towards him, eyes pleading.

“What will you do then?”

You watched as he straightened, standing to his full height as he looked down his nose at you. It was like you were looking at a completely different person, someone who wasn’t like your father at all. As you eyed him, you could see the stress on his face, the strain in his muscles, the conflict in his eyes. You’d had your suspicions that your family’s business with the Peaky Blinders was more serious than you could’ve imagined, but the toll it was clearly taking on your father confirmed it.

Even if you didn’t agree with what was going on, how your father went about getting what he so clearly needed and wanted, it was obvious that this was important to him. Since the death of your mother, very few things brought your father happiness. Very few things even halfway satisfied him, and hoping that this would, shoulders sagging with defeat, you agreed.

This was how you found yourself seated beside your father at none other than The Garrison. The pub was empty of any patrons or staff, only those important to the meeting present. Thomas Shelby, the man himself, was seated across from your father. He was as intimidating as you always believed he’d be, smooth voice having done nothing to calm you when he introduced himself.

John and Arthur, the two you were familiar with, were on his right while two more men by the name of Isaiah and Finn were on his left. They were one short in comparison to your father, his two brothers, your two brothers, and yourself, but an empty chair told you that one more was on their way. Seeing that the meeting had already begun, you deduced that their tardiness wasn’t a concern. Considering the nature of the meeting, a whole bunch of words that could be summed up into “who controls what”, you envied the mystery person’s absence. 

For minutes now, you had contributed nothing, but then again… That wasn’t your purpose. No, the purpose of your presence was to keep the men in line. Your entire purpose was to play on what few morals the men had, and you fought to hold in a laugh. With every member of your family being armed, you wondered if your father even believed this would work. Too busy stewing over how your father had purposely put you in harm’s way, you didn’t take notice of the pub door opening.

You were only pulled from your thoughts when the sound of footsteps finally registered. Considering that your back was to the door, you couldn’t see their face, and you didn’t want to appear nosey or unprofessional or draw attention to yourself in any way really by turning to look. You only glanced up when he finally came into your line of sight, and you observed him in the same manner that you did all the others.

Something about him reminded you of Thomas, but his features were much softer, not so harsh. However, that made him no less intimidating. He wasn’t sporting a hat, dark hair neatly pushed away from his face, and something about him was different from the rest. On his own, he didn’t look like he belonged with the rest of them, and as Thomas explained that he was their chief accountant, you got the feeling that that was purposely done. He introduced the man as Michael Gray, his cousin, and losing interest once again, you looked away.

You played with your fingers beneath the table, wanting to desperately be anywhere but here. You had a feeling that you’d get your wish very soon, taking note of the change in tone in your father’s voice. He sounded happier, relieved, and you glanced up at him, his relief contagious. As you did so, your eyes briefly connected with that of the newcomer, Michael, and you quickly looked away. Even still, you could feel the weight of his stare, and you reluctantly returned it.

He didn’t look the least bit ashamed at having been caught, bringing his cigarette up to his lips, a thick coil of smoke escaping them moments later. His face was hard to read, and you felt yourself frowning slightly. You blinked, eyes trailing to your brother on your father’s other side, but he seemed invested in the meeting. Everyone seemed to be...everyone but you and the man named Michael.

When your eyes met his again, it was just in time to watch him lean over, lips at his cousin’s ear as he whispered something to him. His gaze held yours the entire time. You glanced around again, feeling as if there was a meeting within a meeting going on, and you were the only one to notice. Brushing off the unease you felt, you sat back in your chair, eyes on the table. It was hard to ignore the heavy gaze that pinned you to your seat, but you fought to manage.

Especially since it seemed that an agreement was finally being made.

However, that sinking feeling in your chest traveled to your gut, settling there as you watched John move to whisper something to Thomas. The man, the leader of this great gang, paused for the briefest of moments. It happened so quickly, and John was back in his seat as if nothing had happened, and while Thomas’ words did not falter, the way his eyes briefly flickered to you had you straightening in your seat.

Your eyes fell onto the blue-eyed newcomer again, and he took another drag of his cigarette. Every single one of them wore smug expressions, from the first moment you’d been introduced to every individual man, you noticed that they all looked as if they owned the world. Michael Gray was no different, but the way he looked at you made you want to be as far away from here as possible. As more tendrils of smoke left his pink lips, you noted that he didn’t look at you like he just owned the world. He looked at you like he owned you too.

“Everything does seem to be in order, but...there is another matter I think we should discuss,” you heard Thomas Shelby say.

You looked to him, watching as he stood, his family following his lead and your family following theirs. You tightened your coat around you as Thomas gestured for your father to follow him into the back. His absence made you nervous, but you simply stepped closer to your brother as you watched him follow the other man.

“Let’s wait outside,” your brother said, and eager to be out of here, you hastily agreed.

Your other brother remained inside with your uncles while you followed Matthew, the middle child of you three, outside. 

“You alright?” he asked you as soon as you were in the fresh air. “You looked a bit tense in there.”

You watched him light a smoke, and you glanced away.

“The other one...the cousin, Michael… How much do you know about him?”

Matthew shrugged, exhaling.

“Not much. Doesn’t say much at the meetings, mostly handles the money,” he told you.

That did little to ease you.

“Why…?”

You were just about to tell him the reason for your curiosity when the door to The Garrison came flying open. You watched in shock as your father came storming out, your other brother and uncles hot on his tail.

“What’s going on?” Matthew asked, just as alarmed as you were.

Instead of an answer, your father simply grabbed your arm, and yanked you along. You almost tripped over your feet, and you looked at your father like he’d lost his mind. His face was clouded over, eyes thunderous, and you wondered what had happened in such a short time.

“What-?”

“Quiet,” he hissed, sounding the angriest you’d ever heard him, and your eyes widened at this.

“...but-.”

“I said quiet! Get in the car,” he spat.

He didn’t give you a chance to listen, opting for shoving you inside himself. Your foot was barely inside when he slammed the door shut, and you stared at the window in shock. Matthew joined you and your father in the car while the rest piled into the other vehicle. Your confusion only grew as the car roared to life, and you glanced up then to rest your eyes on a familiar face.

He leaned against the door to the pub, a fresh cigarette held between his lips as he lit it. His blue eyes were focused entirely on you, even as the smoke clouded his view and your father began to drive off, he didn’t appear to be interested in anything else but your trembling frame.

You sat at the dining table in shock, listening to the muffled sound of your father’s angry voice that traveled from his study. He was in there with the rest of the family, and he’d been in there for hours. He had barely looked at you when you all came home, heading straight for his office as he ordered the rest of the family inside. There was an unspoken agreement that that did not include you.

Still, the uneasiness from the meeting remained. You could still feel the heated gaze of the blue-eyed man, smell the smoke that drifted from his lips, see the way he watched you as he whispered to John. You could see the way Thomas had looked at you as John whispered to him, and this was what made you press your ear to your father’s study door hours earlier. This was what drove your curiosity to discover just what happened when you and your brother left.

“He wants her,” your father had forced out, sounding like he was going to be sick.

There was a long pause, and you had frowned in confusion.

“Who?” your other brother, Nathaniel, had eventually asked.

“The Gray kid! Polly’s son,” he spat as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He wants her.”

You could hear your father’s heavy breaths, hear him pacing, and the confirmation that the discussion was about Michael Gray did nothing to quell your confusion. The silence that followed was loud and heavy, something unspoken in the air that you had yet to understand.

“...what?” you heard one of your uncles murmur.

Your father heaved a sigh, sounding much calmer now.

“They are...prepared to meet us more than halfway if we let him have her,” he slowly said. “Everything we’ve been working towards, everything we’ve been yearning for… It could be ours in a matter of hours if we let him have her.”

“No!”

Nathaniel’s voice could be heard before your father even finished.

“Absolutely not-.”

“Nathaniel…”

“You’re not considering this...are you? Father…”

“They’ve given us the day to think it over-.”

“What is there to think about? She’s our sister, your daughter, not some whore on the street,” Matthew interrupted, his words making you freeze.

Bile threatened to spill from your lips as you stared at the door, slowly backing away, their voices becoming less clear as you did so. Your back was pressed to the wall as the truth settled over you, and you suddenly felt foolish for failing to put it together sooner. Your stomach swirled, fear settling into your bones, and before you knew it, your head was in the commode, expelling everything you’d eaten that day. The tears had come shortly after, and that was how Matthew found you hours later, sitting at the table with tears in your eyes.

“I know you heard,” he said, sitting across from you.

You hesitantly looked up at him as he poured a glass of whiskey.

“You never could keep your nose out of things. Told you years ago to stop listening in on father’s conversations-.”

“Well, I’m glad I did this time,” you tearfully spat.

Matthew sighed, sliding the glass towards you.

“I think you deserve it tonight,” he said as you threw him an odd look.

Your shoulders sagged, and you gratefully accepted it, scrunching your face up at the strong taste that hit your tongue. The both of you sat there in silence for a while, listening to your father’s muffled voice, and you took another sip.

“What’s he going to do?”

Your fear must have been evident because his hand rested on yours on the table.

“Hey...he’s not going to agree, alright? He would never…”

You shook your head before he even finished, sniffling as you took another sip.

“I don’t know, Matthew. I don’t know,” you breathed.

Your eyes met his, and he frowned at you.

“These past few months or so… He’s been different, and you know it. He’s made deals before, but it’s different this time. Everything he’s ever wanted is so close. It’s different this time, and you know it, Matthew.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. You both knew that it was different this time, and you shuddered to think about what tomorrow would bring.

The next day came and went, much to your relief, and although you were glad that your father didn’t give into the Peaky Blinders, into what they wanted from you...what he wanted from you, it was still an unacknowledged elephant in the room. They still left the house for business, but you didn’t know if it was with the Blinders or not. You shuddered to think of how that conversation went when your father refused their offer. 

You got the feeling that they weren’t used to not getting their way.

It was three nights later, three nights since that fateful meeting in which you’d caught the eye of Michael Gray, that you left your room to get a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet, an unusual sight seeing as at least one brother was usually up late in the kitchen, drinking or having a smoke. That wasn’t the sight that greeted you.

The kitchen was empty of anyone else, and you drank your water slowly. You hoped that things would be better now. You recalled how relieved your father had looked over the past few days, how much softer his features looked, and you desperately hoped that it was because the family was finally on the right track. You made your way back into the hall, glass pressed to your lips, when you paused.

The only light in the living room came from the moon, it’s rays bleeding through the windows and onto the furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take note of the shape that didn’t belong. The shape of a man. Light flooded the room, and all of your breath left you, glass shattering at your feet.

You stared at him in shock, taking in everything from his neat hair to his shiny dark shoes. He was dressed much like he was the first day you met him, a dark grey almost black looking suit hugging his frame. He leaned back in your father’s chair, nursing a glass of Brandy, and it was then that you realized he’d been here for a while.

“Father!”

It was instinctual now, how your father was the first person you ran to. He didn’t respond, and you called for him again, cutting yourself off when a smirk slowly danced along Michael’s lips. Your mind whirled, and dread filled you.

“What are you doing in my house? Where is my father?”

A small chuckle escaped him, eyes twinkling with mirth as he slowly pulled out a cigarette. 

“What do you think I’m doing here, love?”

Your entire body froze, the implication behind his words clear, and you shook your head. You called for Matthew...then Nathaniel...then your uncles and your father again. The only thing that met you was silence, and your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden. The weight of your predicament fully settled over you, and you slowly shook your head.

“No,” you breathed in disbelief. “...no.”

The man before you didn’t respond, simply pressing the cigarette between his lips, reaching in his pockets for a light, no doubt.

“I don’t believe you.”

That was what you said, what your lips formed, but your heart and your head didn’t agree. Something didn’t feel right from the moment you woke up, and a part of you that you desperately wished would shut up did believe him. 

“Do you really think your father would allow anyone into his home without his knowledge or permission?”

You watched him pull a drag, smoke filling the air, and you stumbled back, running for the door. You didn’t hear him behind you, and for that you were relieved, but your relief was short lived. Upon swinging the door open, you were met with the sight of John and Arthur Shelby dawdling in your driveway. They appeared to be having a conversation when you opened the door, their voices abruptly cutting off at your appearance. John simply smirked at you from around the smoke in his mouth, Arthur tipping his hat towards you.

“‘Ello, sweetheart.”

With a shriek, you slammed the door shut in their faces, chest heaving with uneven breaths as the situation fully resonated with you. You stumbled back further into the hallway, and Michael was still in the same place as before, nursing a cigarette as you fought to figure out a way out of this.

“You can’t...you can’t do this,” you eventually murmured, glaring at him.

Michael simply fixed you with an even stare, smoke escaping from his nose, the cigarette dancing between his fingers.

“I’m a Peaky Blinder, love. I can do whatever I want.”

He said it with so much conviction that you knew he believed it, and the longer you stared at him, the more you believed it too. You warily glanced around, telling yourself that you might actually have to fight this man, might have to fight to protect what your father had wrongly given away. Even though part of you denied it, you slowly accepted that Michael was telling the truth. Despite the fact that your family’s business and even lives were at stake, your father had no right to trade away what didn’t belong to him.

Michael’s eyes never left you as you stood there, and you finally looked to him again when he cleared his throat. The cigarette rested between his lips as he slipped out of his jacket, and you swallowed at the dark look in his eyes. He took another drag.

“Before you do...whatever it is that you’re about to do…”

He parted his mouth, the smoke swirling in there for a bit before pressing his lips together, tendrils escaping his nose.

“You should know that I’ve shot men in the head with no hesitation. I drug my blade across a man’s throat once and reveled in the taste of his blood on my lips.”

You flinched, taking a step back.

“When Tommy first tried to scare me away, threaten to send me back to the village in which I grew up… I told him about a well there, that I’d blow it up with dynamite if he made me go back...didn’t care if my hands went with it.”

He finished his cigarette, putting the rest of it out, eyes boring into yours as he slowly exhaled the smoke he’d been holding in.

“I just knew it’d be worth it to see those pretty white bricks all over that pretty village green...and I meant every word of that.”

You didn’t respond, and his blue eyes slowly dragged over every part of you, taking you in from your hair all the way to your bare feet, lingering on the thin nightgown in between.

“It’s something about the violence, you see.”

His words unnerved you, and he continued.

“The violence, the blood...the fight...it does something to me. Gets me excited, all riled up, so please…”

He gestured towards you, eyes glinting with something that made your heart stop.

“Do fight back, hit me even… It’ll just make me want to fuck you that much harder.”

The tears finally skipped down your cheeks, and you stumbled back as he stood to his full height. With a shaky breath, you staggered up the stairs, running to the last room at the end of the hall, a guest room. You were quick to pull the window up, looking down below in worry. It was high up, that was for sure, but the alternative was worse.

Before you could even get a foot out, warm hands pressed into your stomach, pulling you back against a broad chest. A startled scream left your lips, and Michael’s hands traveled to your arms, fingers pressed into your skin as he held you tight. You leaned your head away from him as he pressed his face into your neck, breathing you in.

“Your father made a big mistake bringing you around us, eh?”

You couldn’t will your lips to move, too paralyzed with fear and nerves and anxiety for the unknown. The way he touched you was foreign, the scent that clung to him, a mix of cologne and expensive liquor and cigarettes, was foreign. The creeping sensation that blanketed your body was foreign. All of this was foreign, and more tears pooled within your eyes as the inevitable drew closer.

“He thought you’d keep us in line, keep us on leashes...but ever since I saw you, the only thing I wanted to do was take you like a fucking animal.”

You jerked in his hold, fighting to get away from him, but Michael tsk’d. 

“Let’s not spoil this, hmm? You seem like a good girl...if you catch my drift.”

More tears fell at his words, and he hummed.

“You do. You strike me as a well behaved lady of the house...and you girls like for this to be special, yeah? All gentle and loving,” he slowly mocked as he forced you towards the bed.

He shoved you onto it, knees pressing down on either side of you soon after, preventing you from going anywhere. Your tears soaked the sheet, and Michael’s fingers ghosted over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I want you to look at me as I fuck you.”

He gently turned you over onto your back, and you stared up at the man before you. Even in the darkness, you could see the blue of his eyes perfectly. They were bright and filled with a hunger that scared you, a hunger you had never been on the receiving end of before. Michael leaned over you, caging you beneath him as he pressed his forehead to yours, soon followed by his lips.

You’d kissed men before, but they were soft sweet nothings that could barely be called a kiss. You knew that if you wanted to marry well, contribute something of substance to your family, you had to be smart about your actions...your reputation. All of the men, realizing that you weren’t going to give them what they wanted, left. Accepting that your family and reputation came first, they always left, and it hurt every single time. 

But it will be worth it.

That’s what you constantly told yourself. After every heartbreak, every sneer, every harsh insult thrown your way about what a frigid bitch you were, you told yourself that it would be worth it. And yet...here you were...beneath a gangster, having your reputation ripped away from you by a man who stole and murdered and wasn’t decent in any way.

Life was funny.

After slipping out of his shirt, the flimsy material floating somewhere behind him, Michael guided your hands to his chest. Your trembling fingers danced along his taut skin, taking note of an imperfection. An old bullet wound, you deduced. The dark-haired man groaned into your mouth, pressing into you, and you could feel him hard beneath his trousers. The reality of what was about to happen seemed to slink around your neck like a noose, and you didn’t even realize that you’d started panting until Michael’s hand found your neck.

“I-I can’t- I can’t do this-.”

He shushed you, kissing you again.

“Behave...and I’ll be good to you. Breathe,” he urged.

You slowly did as he suggested, squeezing your eyes shut as his other hand pushed the smooth material of your nightgown up your legs. One hand was still on your throat as that same hand traveled to his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. Your whole body went numb for a moment, ears ringing and vision blurring, and when you finally came back to earth, Michael’s hips were pressing against yours, nothing in between you.

He was speaking to you, you noted.

“...what?” you murmured.

“What’s your name, love?”

You swallowed, quickly darting your tongue out to swipe over your lips.

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, clearly liking the taste of it on his tongue. He nodded at you, drinking you in as he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly committing you to memory before sliding into you with one quick thrust. Your nails pressed into his skin, and he hissed, your own lips parting to let out a pained gasp. Michael held himself above you, a low groan escaping him as his forehead touched yours again.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispered, nose bumping against yours.

He held himself there for a long time, just feeling you. You weren’t naïve enough to think he did it for your sake, and you got the feeling that he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. When he did finally move, your chest arched upwards, unable to handle the unfamiliar feeling. His hand was still on your neck, and you wrapped your hand around his wrist.

The feel of him inside of you was strange. You couldn’t describe it, but you felt full...you felt stretched...and in a way, it felt unnatural, but the heat that festered deep within your stomach said otherwise. One of Michael’s hands was pressed into the bed beside your head, holding himself up so that he could look at you. You remembered his words, and too terrified to disobey, you fought to keep your eyes on him.

His face was strained with concentration, eyes flickering between your face and down to where the two of you connected. The hand that was on your neck slid down to your chest, thumb brushing over a heaving breast before resting on your stomach, pinning you down as he snapped his hips into yours. It was too much for you, too much at once, and your lashes fluttered. 

“Look at me,” he roughly breathed.

“I can’t...I can’t,” you panted, head twisting from side to side.

You could hardly focus on anything other than the way he was thrusting into you, taking you to heights you never knew existed. He called your name then, and you reluctantly met his eyes, the hunger in them making you shudder.

“That’s right. Eyes on me, love. Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you,” he murmured.

The smugness in his voice and face made you frown, a spark of anger in you.

“Do you fuck all of your girls like this? Huh?”

He didn’t respond, pink lips simply curving upwards into a humorous smirk.

“...or am I special because you get to ruin my life and go on with yours?” you shakily spat.

Michael slammed into you then, forcing a choked gasp from you.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You just focus on milking my cock, hmm?”

You wanted to hit him, spit at him, do anything other than lay there and take his unrelenting thrusts, but your body seized before you could do any of that. Your toes curled and your stomach clenched and your body shook as stars exploded behind your eyes. You hadn’t even realized what a moaning mess you had become until Michael paused just to listen to you, just taking you in with something akin to awe on his face.

You didn't have time to catch your breath before he was chasing his own high, hands pressed into your waist so hard you were sure you’d bruise. Your nails dug into his wrists, choked moans tumbling from your mouth as you clenched around him again, just in time for him to spill into you, releasing a long breath as he did so. You clung to him, tears catching in your lashes as you laid there, mind whirling at what you’d just done.

You flinched, shrinking in on yourself when his lips brushed the corner of your mouth just before pulling out of you. You winced at the action, staring up at the ceiling as you heard him moving about. You turned your head when you heard the strike of a match and watched as he lit himself another cigarette, pants just barely settling on his waist.

“So what happens now?” you finally asked, voice low in the dark room. 

Would your father and brothers come through that door tomorrow, pretending that they hadn’t sold you out? Would they be able to even look at you? Stomach the sight of you? Fresh tears kissed your eyes just as Michael spoke.

“Well…”

He took a pull, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he neared you.

“...I’m going to fuck you at least three more times before the night is over.”

You sat up at this, paying no mind to the pain in between your legs as you stared at him with wide eyes. Without realizing it, you gripped the end of your nightgown, pulling it to your knees as if somehow trying to prevent that very thing from happening.

“What-?”

“...and then I want you to pack a bag. Just some things that’ll last you a few days. I’ll be buying you a whole new lot of clothes anyway.”

“Michael-.”

“You’re my girl, now,” he quietly said, voice firm as he stood over you, free hand playing with the strap of your gown as the other held his cigarette to his lips.

You shook your head, staring up at him in disbelief.

“I...no. My family...they-.”

“Sold you away without a second thought.”

Your heart clenched as he threw that in your face, and you turned away as he reached for you. His fingers pinched your chin, jerking you to face him, and you swallowed. He bent down, staring into your eyes.

“You won’t have to worry about that with us...with me.”

He took one more pull of his cigarette before placing it on the nightstand, tendrils of smoke escaping his nose and mouth just before he pressed his lips to yours, fingers pressing into your skin as he settled between your legs.

~

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