#my baby bread.. my war criminal
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throws some semi-old sketches at y'all as proof of life
#star wars oc#jedi oc#i mean... technically.#LMAO#the bastard resplendent#revan#oh did u think i stopped thinking about them?? no. never.#who am i kidding we all know i can't stop#my baby bread.. my war criminal#rené.art
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Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, borei pâri hagafen.
Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kidâshanu bâmitzvotav vâratza vanu, vâshabbat kodâsho bâahava uvâratzon hinchilanu, zikaron lâmaâaseh bâreishit. Ki hu yom tâchila lâmikra-ay kodesh, zaycher lâtziat mitzrayim. Ki vanu vacharta vâotanu kidashta mikol haâamim. Vâshabbat kod-shi-cha bâahava uvâratzon hinchal tanu. Baruch ata Adonai, miâkadesh ha Shabbat.
(Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, how has sanctified us with his commandments and favored us, and given us in love and favor his holy Shabbat as an inheritance, as a remembrance of the act of creation. For this day is the beginning of all holy days, a remembrance of the Exodus from Egypt. For you have chosen us and you have blessed us from among all the nations. And you have bequeathed us your holy Shabbat in love and favor. Blessed are you, Lord, who sanctifies Shabbat.)
.
Feel this, to all those races, colors, and creeds, every man bleeds
For the countless victims and all the families of the murdered, tortured, enslaved
Raped, robbed and persecuted â Never Again
To the men, women, and children who died in their struggle to live
Never to be forgotten, Reuven Ben Menachem, yoâŠ
.
My own blood dragged through the mud
Perished in my heart, still cherished and loved
Stripped of our pride, everything we lived for
Families cried, there's nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide
Tossed to the side, access denied
6 million died, for what?
.
Yo, a man shot dead in his back
Helpless women and children under constant attack
For no reason 'til the next season and we still bleeding
Yo it's freezing and men burn in Hell, some for squeezing
No hope for a remedy, nothing to believe
Moving targets who walk with the star on their sleeve
Forever marked with a number tattooed to your body
Late night, eyes closed, clutched to my shotty
Having visions, flashes of death camps and prisons
No provisions, deceived by the Devil's decisions
Forced into a slave, death before dishonor
For those men who were brave, shot and sent to their grave
Can't awaken, it's too late, everything's been taken
I'm shaken, family, history in the making
.
Never again shall we march like sheep to the slaughter
Never again shall we sit and take orders
Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name
Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames
Forced from our families, taken from our homes
Removed from our G-d then burned of our bones
Never again, never again, shall we march like sheep to the slaughter
Never again leave our sons and daughters
Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name
(Never again) Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames
Forced from our families, taken from our homes
Removed from our G-d and everything we own (Never again)
.
Some fled through the rumors of wars
But most left for dead, few escaped to the shores
With just one loaf of bread, banished
Called in for questioning and vanished, never to be seen again
I can't express the pain, that was felt in the train
To Auschwitz, tears poured down like rain
Naked, face to face with the master race
Hatred, blood, and David, my heart belongs to God and stays sacred
Rabbis and priests, disabled individuals
The poor, the scholars â all labeled common criminals
Mass extermination, total annihilation
Shipped into the ghetto and prepared for liquidation
Tortured and starved, innocent experiments
Stripped down and carved up or gassed to death
The last hour, I smelled the flowers
Flashbacks of family then sent to the showers
Powerless, undressed, women with babies clumped tight to their chest â crying
Who would've guessed â dying
Another life lost, count the cost
Another body gas-burned and tossed in the Holocaust
.
Never again shall we march like sheep to the slaughter
Never again leave our sons and daughters
Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name
Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames
Forced from our families, taken from our homes
Removed from our G-d and everything we own
Never again, never again, shall we march like sheep to the slaughter
Never again shall we sit and take orders
Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name
(Never again) Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames
Forced from our families, taken from our homes
Removed from our G-d then burned of our bones (Never again)
.
Never Again. Never Again.
.
From the USA to Afghanistan
From Israel to Pakistan
From Iraq to Iran
To Russia, Poland, and France
From China over to Japan
Worldwide
Never Again
.
Shema Yisrael Adonai eloheinu Adonai ehad
(âHear O Yisrael, the Lord is our G-d, the Lord is One.â The Shema is the most important prayer in Judaism. It is the declaration of our faith in one G-d. Jews say the Shema prayer every day, in the morning and evening. And we also say the Shema before we die.)
FIRE!
*GUNSHOT*
#jewish history#jumblr#never again#never forget#never again is now#international holocaust remembrance day#shoah#NOTE: I report and block antisemites. If any antisemites comment on this post you will be reported and blocked. You have been warned.#Youtube
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I canât stop thinking about how Cocomelon is damaging babies because the fast pace scene changes can âinterfere with the development of executive functionsâ, and how thin parents are spread in capitalism that they rely on television to entertain/keep their babies company just so they have some time to complete domestic tasks. I am thinking about disintegrated Community Care/structure. I am thinking about how Instagram, Tiktok, Twitter, Tumblr, all media are engineered to be addictive and alter the executive functioning of kids, tweens, teens, and adults of all ages. How malleable our minds are..bread and circuses. Everything we consume has the power to heal or destroy us. I think about Congress Bill 686, and feel discouraged and powerless. You may have heard of it as âThe TikTok Banâ of course, the media intentionally oversimplifies it as a ban on TikTok, but really it is the means for The State to restrict the sharing of information on the internet and to censor us, keep us misinformed and suppressed. The State knows that knowledge is power so they keep us intentionally in the dark and distracted, plucking away human rights one by one while we are watching the stage. The Restrict Act would require the Department of Commerce to âidentify, deter, disrupt, prevent, prohibit, investigate, and mitigate transactions involving ICT products and servicesâ đ€łđŒđïž (ICT means Information and Communications Technology, ICT Products and services refers to social media) When COVID first hit, my friend said âthis will be like 9/11, there was the world pre 9/11 and post 9/11â I am not one to believe we are âpost-covidâ because we are still in the grips of the Covidian information wars, which I feel will be one of the main long term take aways from The-Covid-Years. Bill 686 harms all, because any group of 1 million people organizing or sharing information online can be persecuted, banned and shut down under the guise of âprohibiting certain transactions between persons of the United States and foreign adversariesâ Congress Bill 686 establishes both civil and criminal penalties for violations of the bill, meaning anything that they consider an âunacceptable risk to national security.â Please donât forget we live in a police state which is meant to protect the empire. In The United States privacy is not sacrosanct, and actually American big brother corporations like Meta and Google are investing millions into anti-TikTok propaganda, because it clears their competition and allows them back into the palms of citizens, so they can personally be the ones to steal our time and data. It makes me angry, itâs painful. How can we organize against the faceless enemy? Itâs all subversion and censorship, anything to get the undiluted power to be placed back into the hands of an American corporation. It will always be The State, Corporations, and Colleges keeping information tucked away and inaccessible to the masses. We must do what we can to preserve the internet as a place of free information sharing and connection. The infrastructure of our communities in real life are generally weak. Weekly I hit a paywall online, and I have seen my own words be instantaneously given an AI generated COVID misinformation banner before. Itâs insane, and most people are not comfortable admitting out loud that we are alive during fascism. Whatâs funny in a way is, I have long hated TikTok, but now that it risks being banned in this âland of the freeâ I find myself urgently realizing how important it is to preserve and protect.. It is on the individual to use the internet wisely and with boundaries, not the state to restrict peopleâs access to information. Privacy is important and data-preservation is important, obviously, but if this is what 686 was truly about, we would be having different conversations. All legislation is created to build a precedent.
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(9I need to put this down before I forget it
Ray and Maya doing mail delivery nearing the end of the war. Just passing out letters to towns that's saying 'hey wars is over ! expect people to come home soon!'
They get jumped and tied up to a tree. Ray is about to retaliate and shoot fire from his mouth but the captor shoves a loaf of bread in his mouth.
Said captor starts rummaging through their letters and Maya snaps at him that he's doing a crime and that Chen is gone and stuff- The guy doesn't care about that he's very much so was not on any side of the war. He mind is elsewhere as evident by his rambling through his face covering about how excited he is to be a dad, catching them both by surprise. 'So I need some advice on baby names. How does Junior sound? I think it'll work great! Ugh but Mary, she's real tough to budge you know? She wants to name our Kid 'Dareth', what kind of name is that? I mean, that's the name you give someone who's gonna be launched outta cannons for a living!.. Actually, that sounds pretty cool...' And while he's rambling he's delicately unsealing letters and reading them, resealing them perfectly and putting them back.
Ray can't say anything, he has bread in his mouth, but he and Maya exchange looks of utter speechlessness.
'Say you two think its okay if I set up camp here for tonight? Seeing that you're already having some of my meal. Either of you allergic to plums and fish?'
Maya keeps asking him questions and he keeps giving half-nothing answers until he finally admits that he's just trying to make sure that some of his fences are getting to the right spots. Maya reiterates that he's doing criminal things and that they are EMs and he's once again thinking about baby names. He cooks them a meal and cuts them loose and runs off into the woods.
The encounter is jarring and leaves them perplexed. Not often have they ran into thieves who leave an apology meal. ))
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Hi, my favorite thigh humpers it's me đȘ± again. omg, two asks back to back? and not literally three months apart? guys therapy is working. actually, I haven't had a therapy appointment in three months! not because I don't need it but because I keep forgetting đ„° also Flora I know you're busy and need time to go through your inbox and reply so don't worry about getting back to me!
anyways do you guys like fictional war criminals' cocks? I bet you do! (if not why tf are you on this blog đ ) Well boy do I have the thing for you! unhinged HC about Fyodor featuring me describing his dick at random throughout the post.
-Fyodor is a regular customer buying body butter on Etsy, his favorite scent is sweet alpha musk.
-Fyodor only uses the towels he bought at a garage sale that has like the cupid babies embroidered on them and has "Love" sewn into them.
-Fyodor calls the stem of a grape the butt plug of nature.
-Fyodor won't admit it but all he wants to do is take a warm bath, while ABBA plays in the background.
-Fyodor once kidnapped a 4-year-old during the 2011 Olympics at 8:07pm in Shanghai China. He took to a restaurant because kids under the age of 10 get to eat for free and he lost his wallet while bike riding. The kid had tons of fun and Fyodor even got her a stuffed bear from the arcade. He is now on a watchlist. Fyodor's dick is a 6.9889 inches
-Fyodor has like ten pairs of shoes and each one of them is embroidered with FBGM, or Fuck Bitches Get Money. Nikola said it was an abbreviation of a famous passage in the bible. Fyodor is an idiot lmao anyways fuck bitches get money RAHH
-Fyodor likes to eat his bread rolls as if he's a starving victorian child. Sigma doesn't know if he doesn't because it's funny or if it's a trauma response. Fyodor's dick leans about 20 degrees to the right. \
-Fyodor likes talking and strolls through parks quite often :)
-Fyodor was a head campaign manager for Obama's re-election year! he also embezzled 100,000 USD from the US government.
-Fyodor dresses up all his pets in clothes every day. and on holidays he comes up with matching outfits
-Fyodor half the time doesn't know what he's doing when he's hacking, he kinda just presses random buttons and hopes he doesn't accidentally doesn't shut down some country's water system. He's smart enough to easily learn and pick up on patterns of code but is just too lazy some days. His dick is rather skinny but he knows how to use it
-Fyodor is a fan of Kafka's work so one day he decided to read letters to Milena, Fyodor no longer believes in love because know has ever told him that "in a way, you are like poetry material; you are full of cloudy subtitles I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out." lmao he literally was so dramatic afterward. Nikola complimented his outfit and he said: "if you don't tell me I am like poetry that you're willing to spend your life figuring out then don't fucking say anything."
-Fyodor may or may not have had a bbl. his tip is a light flush pink and the base is slightly tanner than the rest of his body not by much but it's noticeable enough.
-Fyodor thought S&M by Rihanna was about getting arrested. LMAO
-Fyodor one time had to go pee so bad he used a Gatorade bottle to pee in and left it on the side of the road that said: 'for those with a piss kink'
-Fyodor has fought an 11-year-old at Mc Donalds because, in their BTS meal, they got a Namjoon photocard. (they only did the photocard thing in Korea I think)
-Fyodor ran up two flights of stairs passed out and ended up taking care of some old lady's apartment while she traveled through Europe
-Fyodor can't pronounce the word pronounced. I want his cock shoved down my throat.
-Fyodor collects stickers but doesn't know what to stick them on too so now he has two drawers of stickers. his balls are about average darker than the rest, and he's well-trimmed.
-Fyodor has thought about marrying his hat, and having sex with it! he was on acid at this time.
welp, that's all for today, sorry if this was short, and also sorry if this is like spamming? again no need to answer me right away mwah
Sincerely your one and only fuckable hat
-đȘ±
literally no words there is nothing i could say to make this any better im just gonna sit here and cackle thank u so much
the random descriptions of his cock thrown in genuinely kill me
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a not-so-brief, utterly useless guide to the muses on this blog:
UPDATED VERSION ( 08/10/23 )
AGNES DRACHINA REUBEN. first born daughter of the royal house of drachium. powerful sorceress who made a name for herself during the dragon campaign. a mischevious young woman with a penchant for drinking and getting into trouble.
BABYDOLL. institutionalized against her will. sweet girl but will not hesitate to end you if you're a creep. sincerely wishes to empower the other women around her. slowly losing herself to fantasy in order to escape from her unpleasant reality.
CARRIE WHITE. patron saint of the bullied. powerful telekinetic with religious trauma. generally a sweet kid, if not extremely shy and socially awkward. she honestly just needs a hug and a cheese sandwich.
CATIANA FREESPARK. swashbuckler rogue turned storm cleric. she's confused about how that happened too. died fairly recently, but she got better. will steal your shit. highkey feels like the divorce baby between procan and umberlee.Â
CHROME DOKURO. a powerful illusionist currently in the employ of the vongola mafia family. occasionally shares her body with the criminal mukuro rokudo. learning to stand on her own two feet. a bit of a strange girl, but sweet and undyingly loyal.
FREYA. the once queen of asgard and leader of the valkyries. reclaimed her warrior spirit and found her wings. seeking to reunite and repair the realms following ragnarök. not a woman to scorn, or she will burn you to the ground and salt the earth behind her.
KAGAMI TSURUGI. a recent transplant to paris from japan. loves fencing and being right. she can be a bit cold upon first meeting but she's actually just very bad at making friends. if you take the time to get to know her, she is fiercely loyal and dedicated and will fight for you.
LIAN NICHANG. the white haired demoness. lives alone on a mountain. really only comes down to get rid of people who are harassing the village at the base of the mountain that leaves her the fuck alone. master swordsman. not actually a witch or a demon, no matter what people call her.Â
LUNA. magical moon cat. has a crescent moon bald spot on her forehead. trying to keep the protectors of the universe on track but they're just teenage girls so it goes about as well as you would expect. really tired of being the voice of reason but this is what she signed up for.Â
LUNASOL GALANODEL. honestly, the worst. burned down her abusive childhood home with her twin brother. basically sold her soul to the queen of air and darkness. pretends to be sweet but she is cruel and cold. typical elvish attitude toward other races, too. really, really likes flowers.
MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG. my god she is doing her best. normal girl turned superhero turned guardian of magical artifacts. just needs one day of peace ffs. currently going through a crisis due to teenage romance and also ptsd. always smells like fresh baked bread which is a plus.Â
MAXIMILIAN CALYPSE. a small, stuttering lady of noble birth. married off to keep her father from having to go to war against dragons. considers herself to be useless and has a good deal of anxiety, but is generally one of the sweetest nobles you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. currently learning to use healing magic.
MIYU. vampire who tried to run from her destiny and made it worse. has to hunt down god-demons called shinma that she accidentally let escape. literally cannot die until she finishes her job, and she would very much like it to be over now. usually accompanied by her mask wearing servant, larva. she's cute and cruel in equal parts.
NATHALIE SANCOEUR. for fuck's sake she needs a vacation. and a raise. personal assistant to a supervillain. seriously questioning that relationship at this point. literally dying. trying to beat the current record holder for most akumatizations. she's pretty and could kick my ass.Â
PERSEPHONE. our lady of the underground. literal goddess. known for bringing springtime and overseeing torture in the deepest depths of tartarus. the mom friend, she probably already loves you. does not put up with her husbandâs bullshit. really loves her weird dog.
PIKE TRICKFOOT. gnome cleric of the everlight. she may be a holy woman but she has the spirit of a barbarian. will definitely try to drink you under the table. overestimates her own strength, but loves to surprise others when they doubt her. precious angel baby.
REINA "GLITCH" CROWNE. student at a prestigious art school with a focus on fashion design. acts like she's tough and untouchable, but she's actually just soft and trying to figure out who she is. loves meshing traditional fashion with digital media. known to the other students as "glitch" due to her first year freeze up.
RIZA HAWKEYE. military sharpshooter and right-hand-woman of the guy who wants to take over the military. likes like two people and her dog. usually smells like gun oil but it's not unpleasant. has no sense of self-preservation and will definitely die for the people she cares about. does not get paid enough.Â
ROGUE. the poster child for "look don't touch." mutant and working on the proud part. literally too powerful for her own good. comes with the added bonus of her cajun husband who makes things explode by touching them. the og power couple.Â
RYOKO HAKUBI. half alien, half goddess, all trouble. a literal science experiment. crash landed on earth 700-or-so years ago after a space battle with the guy she tried to steal a tree from. recently resurrected and free from the mind control that made her destroy 28 planets. she's doing her best okay?Â
RYUKO MATOI. teenage girl who wants to fight. has a magical schoolgirl uniform powered by her blood. wields a giant scissor. could kick your ass, could kick my ass, could kick her own ass. secretly a softie.Â
SADAKO YAMAMURA. a very, very angry ghost with the telepathic ability to project her thoughts onto physical media. the switch to the digital era has not slowed down her curse whatsoever but she misses VHS tapes. very wet. is honestly just a scared young woman who doesn't understand why bad things happened to her. will fucking kill you if given the chance.Â
SIF. the unwaveringly loyal wife of thor, mother to magni, móði, and thrĂșd. trying desperately to hold what remains of her family together. can come across as somewhat cold. while not a warrior by any means, she will do anything to protect her children.
TABITHA DELAINE. monster hunter and general know-it-all. was part of a cult at one point but she doesn't want to talk about it. lowkey a witch but tries to use her magic sparingly. the biggest lesbian you will ever meet, next to her girlfriend van. lives in van's van.Â
TIKKI. kwami of the miraculous of creation. has existed for as long as the universe has. sincerely loves humans and how wonderful they can be. helps to turn her current owner into the superhero known as ladybug.
VEX'AHLIA. ranger and rogue. sneaky and shooty. just trying not to die again, thank you very much. once stabbed a tree because it made moves on her. the champion of a god. will probably call you darling and wink at you. also, she has a bear named trinket and a husband with too many names for me to bother listing here.
#âź Â missallanea / ooc  ⯠  ââ  â   probably listening to a musical on repeat  .#/ yep my stupid joke post is back uwu#/ updated for the new muses!
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DONT ACCEPT WHITE CRIMES INTERNATIONAL MURDERS
those illegal hospital white only clubs slammed my head and body upside down and said I was DUMP STER DUMPED, at PEDRO PETS PIT TONS of SEALS,
by they almost murdered me from using my body as dumping me upsidedown from illegal hospitals in Mckinney Texas, and their still trying to call me a Mac Donalds Hamburger Manager dumpster dive, package meals
genocides of white crimes,
dumping upsidedown ER homicide trucks, stolen white medical teams being used as FRAT rat poison houses.
those illegal hospital white only clubs slammed my head and body upside down and said I was DUMP STER DUMPED, at PEDRO PETS PIT TONS of SEALS,
by they almost murdered me from using my body as dumping me upsidedown from illegal hospitals in Mckinney Texas, and their still trying to call me a Mac Donalds Hamburger Manager dumpster dive, package meals
genocides of white crimes,
dumping upsidedown ER homicide trucks, stolen white medical teams being used as FRAT rat poison houses.
im so mad and disappointed that america so easily lets white criminals murder or genocide people saying Lambs Wool and stamming peoples bodies upsidedown while their sea dates, sedated, a bunions and purple date onions Kim banging
those illegal hospital white only clubs slammed my head and body upside down and said I was DUMP STER DUMPED, at PEDRO PETS PIT TONS of SEALS,
by they almost murdered me from using my body as dumping me upsidedown from illegal hospitals in Mckinney Texas, and their still trying to call me a Mac Donalds Hamburger Manager dumpster dive, package meals
genocides of white crimes,
dumping upsidedown ER homicide trucks, stolen white medical teams being used as FRAT rat poison houses.
im so mad and disappointed that america so easily lets white criminals murder or genocide people saying Lambs Wool and stamming peoples bodies upsidedown while their sea dates, sedated, a bunions and purple date onions Kim banging
victims responses Mckinney Texas homicides in america children packing death to babies,
at bread rail road barstools hands and slamming bodies upsidedown
yeah im really mad babe,
thats so disgusting, i really want witness protection without white illegal undercover teams,
white undercover teams in america causing global homicides,
i swear my life, I vow on my life thatâs how their washing and bedding crimes on victims bodies
their trying to attack us again at saying CD PLAYERS, and PIZZA BISCUITS BABY GOLDS
dont deal with cd players!!
hard drive wires!! white crimes,
don't accept white crimes,
theyre war homicides at them massing CD pizza cutters and saying EAT BAY GHOALS and BISCUITS SCOTTY POTTY TEA
not snow capsules,
not pack man pudge
just listen codyâŠ. theres too many white crimes occurring,
get a new telephone anchor if you wish, but PLEASE please dont accept white peopleâs injustices against humanity and myself too, everyone,
theyâve systematically stacked gang homicide teams in stolen false roles, lab assistants, doctors, police, only white explicit crimes
and they all try to hide stacking pizza slicers and pancake CD dick disks, about saying DIZZINESS at
DEE DAY ZZZZ MEAT DOUGHNUT
just dont accept derogatory, white explicit crimes,
please dont disbelieveâŠ
or they could try to come back to hurt me again, and theyâre already farming lots,
fights at Mayo Nasal crushing bodies and lungs,
because they said if anyone outbreeds their crimes they try to have them subbedded with pokemon throw balls and childrens MAC MIC rat donalds,
at says CD player and KIM MIC,
trying to say Kim Banging and slander camp dumping bodies
they dropped me down backwards and acted like I naturally fell backwards, after purposely trying to rip my heart slander crimes,
just dont accept white cimes,
PLEASE cody.. okay. dont panic too much, I promise MY LIFE, only white people did that towards me and many people,
MANY people, not MAYO NAZZZE
frat house homicides purple pazye
i had to tell cody the building manager before they try to come back here, or before they try to smash farm more white crimes on us, me, you, all innocent lives
they are all trying to say CD player pizza slice homicides, and mac donalds MIC MAC micro phone homicidesâŠ
Kim Mic,
at saying Kim, they blamed at RAT cheerleaders homicides on cheerleader squads,
please dont accept white crimes
and please dont betray anyone locally or internationally.
they've said TWIST his YOUR REEF THA, your Reatha
says white crimes hidden all those HIGH DENS at your Reatha frank cull lenses, homicides and genocides WHITE ONLY slander dumps stealing essential life functions,
white crimes, please dont mistake those events for anyone else, because I promise MY LIFE that those are illegal WHITE only
victims laws,
please dont accept white crimes, because theyre ruining peoples lives of smashing generational poverty crimes
dont accept Poll Volt either
sideways motorcycle poll volt
lightning bikes, turn a pole sideways, and thats a lightning bolt bike homicide
dont accept Poll Volt either
sideways motorcycle poll volt
lightning bikes, turn a pole sideways, and thats a lightning bolt bike homicide
they were smashing my lungs
and chest, to suppress my voice,
and stealing cheerleaders and commander voices
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She told me a few more meal sites so money wasn't spent on food so much.....and told me I would have to have documentation at women's shelters......
So I told her online it said they do have programs that reduce the attractiveness of gang life....and that path programs are suppose to offer choice..
.she told me down town does get violent it's a lot of drug addiction....so I told her I had been in Florida Arizona Texas so I have seen a lot of what can happen to people.....
Aids documentaries on progression politics just said if I want to live this way I have to go to South America because north is only for euthanasia suicide programs
I told her there are south west legalism groups that are trying to abolish documentation politics.....I was born in Wisconsin so I do still have a few citizenship rights though a judge in Georgia told me under mkultra Joseph mengele twin theory white is an indigenous classification
I was told in Florida emigration though the snitch found out about and it was too heinously violent for state id to restrict people from their lives it's considered frietal terrorism in europe
I don't enjoy hospitality under anti emigration
State id is a constant contradiction you have to have an address to get it but you can't have an address without it
I don't competely know what happened to me...but permissioning policy is viewed as baby killing.....do you want to have a baby under you may pee or not
Jerry told me in Biloxi Mississippi I was going to have to understand it's civil abuse case as white artificial intelligence beguines like me meditate a non trespassing power so
They want personal power all the time and I'm not sure it's necessary to keep tolerating jap bombs like clear cutting and car malfunction a lot of Americans waiting to cross the border or suribachi
Uhm I'm not sure we weren't liberated to become nuns from beguines and anchoresses and the children maybe have a.i. community fosterage they may be do not have to occupy the school anymore......my daily bread told me there will be no land ownership for my people I was called for God.....
I think constructivists maybe could tell you what happened to me....but I think scacco the police don't work in sanitary ways and when it's sex trafficking by police then they shouldn't have to cell study all the time the police unions are suppose to get public torture like more outside oxygen to train for urban combat abroad
I'm 42 so it's just to force the white light system here your blinding me that really fucking hurt
My cell criminal told me about neo Nazism that she had to go to jail for gang conduct because to her they were going to blow up the whole world or nana ho.....
London just said they had to study Hindus women about their strategies with violence and cow worship it's to keep warring on Christians and Muslims and causing deformisms because we could be a strong people and it scares japs and germs
I'm not sure we aren't liberated to tell Texas that it's cows have to be more Wisconsin like...their cows not royal land
Anyway the neo Nazi wants to scrape white matter off my eye ball and some of the cosmetic surgery here is maybe like a European concentration like they tried to study broken glass shoved in her.....upper thighs after.........selling stem cells from unborn fetus
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Alright, looks like Iâm back on a transformers binge so fluffy, nobody is dead au where oopsie doodle magic science shit happens and all the clones get to teleported to the transformers universe and get to hang out on Griffin Rock.
( for yâall that donât know what the hell im taking about griffin rock is the town these 4 transformers are assuming to protect after they come out of stasis to find that their planet can no longer sustain life after their 4 million year war and their mission is to serve and protect the humans and learn from them now that their calling earth their new home and they live with a family of rescue workers, the show is called transformers rescue bots and itâs a really cute light fluffy show filled with adventure I think you all would like it, you can pirate it just about anywhere)
Reasons they should go there:
Ghosts
Dinosaur island
Mad scientists
The blob
Dream gremlins
Hella robots
Conspiracy theorist news reporter
A cross eyed lion
Expired bunker meat that turns people into Bigfoot
Realistic family and friend interactions
Mayor with a fake toupee
Teleportation via bugs
Weather machines
Time travel
Constant volcanic eruptions
A cat named Mr. pettypaws
Optimus Prime gets hunted for sport as a dinosaur
Meteorites
Twin shoplifting criminal masterminds
The main antagonist is from like, the 1920âs and is quite fruity and wears a monocle and he ends up walking into the sunset with Jules Verne
Local man who gets around via helicopter jet pack
Constant natural disasters
Robo babies
Bread Santa clause
Local grouchy old lady who believes in fairies
Spelunking
Multiple dooms day devices
Island of misfit tech
The liberty bells Lind lost cousin
The Bermuda Triangle
Space worm vampires
Sports car James Bond
Pirates
Virtual reality
FLYING LOBSTERS
Mark Hamill
Crazy uncle you only ever see once a year
Jungle tower
Helicopter thatâs afraid of heights
Bulldozer that likes to pain with mashed up peas
Police car that would jail you for not using the cross walk
Fire truck with anger issues
SHRINK RAY
SERBO THE ROBO DOG
So Mr.Burns is the police chief and the father of the Burns family and he is a lot like plo Kloon and I really think yâall would love this show
but I think this would be a really great place for the clones to be safe in and relax, have some shenanigans. HELLA SHENANIGANS. But the 501st, the 212th, the 104th and the Coriscant guard are definitely in this, fuck it the alpha arcs are there too.
But I really want waxer and boil to interact with mr. petty paws the cat, and for whatever reason unbeknownst to the locals Ms.Neaderlander loves the two boys. Waxer: *picking up the cat and petting him* Boil: huh, thatâs a funny looking loth cat.
Or the one kids nickname is Cody and I want a scene she his dad, Chief burns is trying to find him and yells âCODYâ and commander cody who was near by just turns on his heels and is like âyes chief burns?â And the chief is like no not you, my son, thank you tho. And Codyâs like :( what am I chopped liver and chief just sighs.
Bolder trying to teach the clones how to pain and Dogma loves it. Dogma would also love Chase and not at all because they would talk about da rules, no no, I think they have that somewhat in common but Dogma would more find comfort in the fact that Chase isnât very spontaneous, heâs calculated, trustworthy and likes to do things step by step and I think Dogma would vibe with that.
When Danny cooks everyone crys except Sinker because he will eat anything, I think he would also eat the expired bunker spam on purpose.
Oddball and the other pilots help Blades be less afraid of flying and teaching him different maneuvers.
The 501st getting lost in the tunnel system and accidentally end up walking all the way over to dinosaur island and get to see cool crystals and almost get eaten by the dinosaurs. Hardcase when he finds out the crystals are highly flammable: *explosion thoughts intensity*
Heatwave and Wolffe would get into a snark off contest.
I fell Alpha-17 might enjoy the trails that run through Griffin Rocks wilderness. He would maybe make friends with the local black bear population on accident because he didnât know what they were and that they were not friendly and he walked into one on a hike and he was likeđ§damn thatâs a big ass dog, a funny looking fellow really, ay buddy do you want this cliff bar? And the bear is like đ§wtf is this guy doing, should I eat him? But eventually 17 and the bear are buddies and he brings the bear back and is like âhey chief check out the dog I found â and chief is like âhow many times do I have to tell everyone no dogs-đđđâ
Wooley,soup, and toast would be fascinated with the bakery
They all participate in the Burn family tradition of game night weather they like it or not
Kix, Fives, Hardcase, Jesse, Hevy, Boost, Gree, Oddball, Gregor, Neyo, Thorn and Barcara would participate in helping test doc Greens weird little machines
Every Friday is disco and karaoke night at one of the local bars and they all go out and party. They also like going to the roller skating rink where they can also jam to 2011 type pop.
Rex, Monnk and Ponds enjoy chief Burns company and like going fishing with him and going out on the boat.
Pls I could go on and on but please feel free to add onto this, Griffin Rock is already so god damn weird so the sky is the limit go crazy
I know this is very much a crack au but It makes me so sad when the clones suffer and they deserve to be happy damn it, I apologize to my many followers who have no idea what the hell im talking about.
#captain rex#alpha 17#Jesse#kix#dogma#fives#clone trooper#commander cody#boil#waxer#au#the clone wars#commander wolffe#boost#sinker#my post#chase#Boulder#blades#heatwave#transformers#wooley#hevy#oddball#toast clone#soup clone#Gregor#commander gree#Iâm so god damn manic and mentally unwell rñ idk what is happening really reality is a blurt and Iâm having anxiety
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By Any Other Name (2)
series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesnât seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra⊠you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.7k warnings: descriptions of a controlling relationship, bucky is undercover as james, a wild peter appears, brock is an asshole đčseries masterlist đč
âI thought I told you to keep these out of sight.â
Brock held up a copy of Jane Eyre, waving it around impatiently as you crossed the room to take it off his hands. You held the book close to your chest, brushing your hands along the fabric of the aged binding and took in the comforting scent of the pressed paper and ink. There was a slight aroma of aged brandy that burned in your nose and you looked down at the book to find a splash of Brockâs drink seeping into the cover of the near two century year old novel.
âSorry,â you muttered, thumb brushing against the stain, a slight tremor in your voice. You turned to leave the room but Brockâs hand caught on the edge of your dress, grabbing a firm hold of the fabric and you stilled instantly. Your grasp on the book ached in your hands.
âYou forgot something, baby.â
Muscles tensing, body clenching, you took a deep breath and pushed out a smile as you turned around to face him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. He tasted of cigar smoke and liquor despite the clear blue of the morning sky outside. You held onto the book pressed against your heart like it was a lifeline as he caged you with a hand gripped into your hair.
He let you go with a satisfied hum and you exhaled a breath of relief. He turned back to the papers on his lap without another thought to you and you quickly disappeared from the living room to return the book to its home.
Chills pressing bumps into your skin, you rushed down the hall until you found the sanctity of the library and closed the doors shut behind you. Leaning against the frame, you glanced down at the book, running a hand across the blue cover, tracing along silver lettering.
The stain had dried, a slight discoloration in the cover and you clenched your teeth so tightly it ached in the muscle. You set the book back on the shelve, squeezing it in amongst The Tales of Angria and Emma, your favorites in Bronteâs collection.
You stepped back from the shelf, admiring the precision of it, the colorings of the aged fabric of the covers and the intricately designed lettering on the bindings. It was beautiful; hundreds of yearsâ worth of knowledge and art and most brilliant creative works of humanity all gathered in a single room. Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on these shelves. It was the only thing you put your time into these days; all that Brock would allow you access to the accounts for, so you didnât get any⊠ideas.
You groaned, falling onto the couch and tucking your knees to your chest. A half empty cup of tea from the night before sat on the end table still seeping. There was a light ring forming under the cup, but you didnât mind. It would add to the collection. Something about this place needed to feel imperfect and homey, unlike how polished and clinical as the rest of the mansion was.
It hadnât always been this way, your relationship with Brock. You didnât always feel so trapped in your own home, restricted to putting everything you had into a single outlet and spending your life locked away in a room your husband didnât bother to ever step inside.
You had met Brock when you were a professor at Columbia in one of the cafes down by your office building. He had a charming kind of smile and was impossibly sweet for his stature and the scars littering his skin. He was easy to fall in love with and you supposed just about anyone would be if they were purposely catering every thought, feeling, and behavior to mold into what you wanted him to be.
He played the part of a loving boyfriend for nearly three years. Youâd married quickly, with a short engagement, because he insisted he was just so in love that he couldnât wait another second. Youâd believed him because you were a girl who had grown up with an elusive father who spent more time in his office than at your recitals and scholarships ceremonies and poetry nights.
His disappointment in your love of the arts and literary fiction left a hole in your chest that Brock easily filled. Brock was the one who built the library in your shared home and encouraged you in your work at Columbia. He bragged incessantly about your accomplishments and joined you at every departmental fundraiser. He was perfect in every way, if only on paper.
Everything changed the night your father died and his millions were inherited to you, his only living child. Brock became distant and cold, and you had convinced yourself that he was grieving. He had been close with your father, after all, but the darkness never went away. He convinced you to transfer your inheritance to a joint account so he could take care of you, so you could take a step back and mourn without having to worry about paying bills and funeral costs and mortgages.
You never saw a penny of that money again.
It didnât take long before you learned of Brockâs connections to Hydra, his apprenticeship under Alexander Pierce, and the crimes he committed in the dark cover of night when he slipped from your bed for nearly five years.
You supposed it was your own ignorance that let it go on for as long as it did or perhaps you were simply too naĂŻve to see it, but Brock had held you down, tied and bound for years before you even felt the ropes.
You confronted him with the pieces youâd put together on his connection to the criminal world and he had threatened to turn you over to the police. It had been your money funneling Hydra and you were complicit, an accessory to every crime heâd committed and the blood money heâd made since.
He had you exactly where he wanted you; trapped, with nowhere to go, no friends or family to turn to. You hadnât even realized how isolated youâd become until you were desperate to leave. Heâd found a way to separate you from the last remaining friendships youâd had before you even knew they were gone.
So, you played the part of the doting wife. You did as he asked and kept up appearances when necessary. You went to his black tie events in expensive dresses and heels because it was what he demanded. You watched as he turned your fatherâs wealth into hundreds of millions of dollars through drug trafficking and weapons manufacturing, all while fighting off turf wars and ordering the executions of dozens of men.
He wanted you to conform to his life. He asked it of you every once in a while, for you to take your rightful place by his side and rule the city of New York together, but you told him to shove it. You wanted no part in the world he dragged you into, kept you locked away in by threat of extortion. He was a monster by your standards.
Your relationship with him was surface level. It was a political move to marry you, seeking out your fatherâs money. Heâd forced you to step down from your position at Columbia, isolating you from the last remaining ties you had. He controlled every aspect of your life.
So, you kissed him when he asked, slept with him when he came onto you, because you were going through the motions. You kept yourself secluded to the one place that still managed to bring you joy; your library.
You were content. Numb, but content.
But something was different now. You couldnât place what it was, but the unsettled need for more was returning to the surface and you were desperate to crawl your way out again.
A cool breeze swept in through the window, startling you out of your memories, and you shivered, turning to quickly close the draft as to not disturb the delicate temperatures needed to preserve the books. Locking the window shut, you turned and leaned against the wall, gazing out at the walled lined with countless novels, though your eyes kept falling back to a certain Bradbury novel with red flames intricately designed on the cover.
You sighed, grabbing your bag from the table and quickly made your way out to the car before Brock could notice you were gone.
***
You had the driver drop you off in Brooklyn, a few blocks off from the Queens border. It was part of your Sunday routine as much as you could manage to sneak away, to come into the softer side of the city and visit the shops and storefronts youâd frequented in your time before Brock.
You reveled in the feeling of the cold breeze against your every step, hands pressed into your pockets and nose tucking into a scarf when the chill started to bite.
You stopped in at your favorite bagel shop, the one with a few of the letters missing from the sign, and ordered your usual from the kind, middle-aged woman at the register. She smiled as she saw you, giving you a quick wave, as she finished up with the customer across the counter.
Stepping up to the counter, you took in a heavy breath of the fresh baked bread and the bacon sizzling on the table fryers. It was heaven in a shop.
âHey, Mrs. Marselli,â you greeted, eyeing the order board though you had no intentions to change your mind, âIâll take aâ"
âOh, donât you worry, dear, I know it by heart,â she grinned, calling your order down to the last detail to her husband in the kitchen. You hadnât changed your order in nearly three years and she winked at you. The bagel came only a few moments later wrapped up tight in tin foil.
âIt smells amazing, as usual,â you grinned and slid a few extra dollars over the counter.
Mrs. Marselli picked up the cash and narrowed her eyes on it suspiciously. It wasnât the first time you gave her more than what the bagel was worth. âThis is too much, dear. I might need to send you back to school with my grandson!â
âHmm, guess so,â you shrugged as you backed away, giving her no chance to hand you back the change and excess dollars. âHave a good day Mrs. Marselli! Tell Jim thanks for the bagel!â
âWill do, honey! Stay warm!
The next stop was down at the coffee joint on the corner of the block. It sat next to a Starbucks that usually had a line out the door, but you liked the family who ran CafĂ© Ramos and wanted to hear about whether Neftaliâs son made the school musical.
The bell rang as you walked inside, a short blast of warm air pushing through the frame and you let out a sigh of relief and pulled the scarf down from your mouth. A messy mop of brown curls jumped up from the register where it looked like Mateo was trying to take a mid-morning nap.
âY/nâs here!â Mateo shouted back to the kitchen, waving you over and quickly preparing your cup of hot warm. âWhat can I get you this time? We just got a gingerbread tea in time for the holidays? What about a chocolate lavender? Could always go apple caramel, tooâŠâ
âWhatever you think, Mateo,â you laughed, handing him the usual cost of the drink and told him to keep the change. He turned to grab a tea bag from the tin box with a small gingerbread drawing in brown crayon on the front label. âSo, did you get the part of Bernardo or what? Donât hold out on me, kid!â
âWho knows?â he sang with a huge grin, right in tune with the classic song âSomethingâs Comingâ straight from the West Side Story score. You squealed and gave him a high five, though he tried to play it cool. Most high school juniors did.
âThatâs amazing, kid! Iâm so happy for you,â you bit on your lip, trying to keep in your excitement. Youâd known him since he was in elementary school and he talked nonstop of wanting to nab a lead in the high school play. This was his dream. âI want a ticket when you open, you hear me?â
Mateoâs cheeks flushed pink as he pressed the lid to your tea. âBernardo doesnât really sing a lot but Iâve got a lot of dance numbers and we all know the Sharks are way cooler than the Jets.â
âWell, count me in as team Shark,â you laughed, taking the tea as he handed it to you. It was piping hot but the smell was intoxicating. âDonât forget to tell your mom I said thank you for the flowers she delivered to my auntâs house last week. They were lovely.â
âSure thing, Y/n!â Mateo called after you as you made your way to the door. He was a sweet kid.
There was as reason you looked forward to Sundays.
Most of the stops you made on your trips alone were filled with interactions like the sweet couple at the bagel joint and the Ramos family at the cafĂ©, smiles and quick questions of how their day was going, but sometimes, youâd run into people on the street who recognized you for another reason, who knew of your connection to Rumlow and Hydra and theyâd take one look at you before crossing the street or disappearing into an alleyway for an escape.
You clenched your jaw as it happened for the third time in only fifteen times.
This time, it was a young man, maybe in his college years with a dark purple bruise on his eye. He was walking with his head down, he almost didnât notice you until he bumped hard enough into your shoulder to send you spiraling to the ground, trying to escape an oncoming biker who shouldnât have been on the sidewalk in the first place.
The rest of your tea spilled to the sidewalk and the last bite of bagel was lost to the road. You only had a few sips of the tea anyway and it would give you a decent excuse to grab another on your way home, so it was no loss to you. Though, your tailbone would beg to differ.
âOh shit! Sorry about thaââ The kid froze dead in his tracks when he finally got a look at you. He reached out quickly and pulled you to your feet, stepping away to give you distance.
âHey, donât worry about it,â you said, trying to laugh it off but you recognized that petrified look in his eye. He almost certainly knew your husband you wondered what he part of Brockâs world he could possibly be involved in at an age so young. He didnât seem to be hearing a word you said, so you tried again. âNo harm done, kid. Really. Iâm perfectly fiââ
âPlease, maâam, I wasnât lookinâ where I was going,â he begged suddenly, hands shaking now as he glanced around the street nervously, like he was waiting for an attack. âPlease, donât tell Mr. Rumlow. I didnâtâ I didnât mean toââ
He didnât even give you a chance to convince him that youâd never tell Brock something so trivial and that he had no reason to be afraid, but he bolted off before you could.
âWait!â you called after him, but it was no use. He was already down the block, glancing back at you over his shoulder like he was running from enemy fire. A frown pushed at your lips, aching in your cheeks as you picked up the empty cup and the foil from the bagel.
Murmurs of bystanders hung in the air around you and you noticed an elderly couple whispering amongst themselves and pointing in your direction. They knew who you were and gossiped amongst themselves. You just hoped word didnât get back to Brock, but still, these sorts of things always did.
***
When you finally made it to the bodega in Queens, you spotted your cousin sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though his mess of brown hair popped up at every horn that blared in the streets, which was pretty often.
âParker!â
Peterâs head snapped up in your direction, smiling bright in relief, and he jumped up from the sidewalk, rushing the rest of the way and crashing into you at the center of the crosswalk. His grip around you was tight and he nuzzled the cold of his nose into your shoulder.
âI was starting to think you werenât gonna show,â he mumbled. Voice muffled as spoke against the lining of your coat. It was a rough time of year for the Parkers. The anniversary of his uncleâs death had just passed last week. You let him hang onto you longer than usual.
You chuckled, glancing around at the pedestrians as they sent you irritable glares in their efforts to step around the two of you. You ushered Peter back over to the sidewalk, not daring to pry his arms from around you.
âCome on, Pete, you know Iâd call if I couldnât come,â you reminded him. âBesides, someone has to keep an eye on you, huh?â
He laughed a little, pulling himself away from your embrace and nodded.
âWhatâs on our agenda for today?â you inquired, nudging his shoulder to pull that smile out of him again.
âAunt May wanted me to deposit some checks,â Peter said, gesturing to the lump in his coat pocket. They must be condolences from the funeral. It was nearly five years ago now, but May had a hard time bringing herself to deposit them. Looked like Peter finally convinced her to let them go. âThe banks out in Brooklyn though, and I know you just came from there so itâs okay if you donât want to walk that fââ
âI donât mind,â you replied with a shrug, hoping to ease some of his tension. âItâs a nice day and Iâve got time.â
That got him smiling, at least.
As you followed Peter along the sidewalks back to Brooklyn, you were relieved to find that he still had the energy to talk a mile a minute, telling you everything from how school has been, his progress on his latest project for the science fair, his escapades with his buddy Ned, and the kid named Flash who had some kind of vendetta against him.
âHowâs Michelle?â you asked him suddenly. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.
âOh, sheâsâuhâsheâs good,â he stuttered, chuckling nervously and running a hand through his hair. âI was thinking I might try and find this necklace for her, actually. She really likes the Black Dalilah. You know, like the murder?â
You raised an eyebrow, listening intently as Peter explained and you couldnât help but feel grateful you werenât in high school anymore. All these rules about how to interact with everyone and constant pressure to say the right thing. It was exhausting. Though, if you were honest with yourself, your life wasnât much different now as it was then.
âWhat about you? How are things with Brock?â
You blinked a few times, surprised to look up and find you were a few blocks past where youâd last checked. You brushed a hand through your hair, shaking out the knots.
âOh, you know, same as usual,â you said, not willing to give Peter any more detail than he needed. He knew nothing of the underground world your husband operated in and you planned to keep it that way. As far as Peter knew, Brock was the owner of a dance club in midtown. Nothing more.
There was an ache in your voice though, a slight sort of tremble that Peter usually picked up on though he didnât force it. You felt his eyes as he glanced over at you, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched up by his ears to hide from the cold, trying to find evidence of your hurt upon your face. Your eyes were downcast, lips pressed to a frown.
Heâd seen the change in you after your father died and he had thought it was grief, even for a man who wasnât around much to begin with. He had tried to give you space but even you knew you had lost pieces of yourself that never healed again and it wasnât because of your father.
âCome on, kid,â you huffed, swatting at his arm enough to trip him a few steps and get him laughing again, âIâll race you to the bank.â
It was only two blocks away and you were on back alleys with minimal traffic anyway. It was something you used to do when you were younger and youâd be the one watching him after school. It was all you could do to get the energy out of the little pest.
âWhat do I get if I beat you?â
âPride, Peter.â
âHow about donuts from McQueenâs?â he pressed, grabbing tight to your elbow and bringing you to an abrupt stop. Alright â so he was serious now.
You narrowed your eyes. âFine. When I win, I want churros from the street vender across the block.â
âDone.â
***
An hour later you dropped Peter off back at Aunt Mayâs there was sweet sticky residue of cinnamon sugar on your fingers as you waved goodbye. You pulled the second churro from your bag, half eaten, and bit down on it with a triumphant smile.
Peter laughed, shaking his head as he brushed past Aunt May and slipped inside the house. She waved at you, leaning against the frame, reminding you to not be such a stranger, before you made your way home.
It had been a while since youâd spent time with Aunt May, especially after Uncle Ben passed. Hell, it had been a while since youâd spent time with anyone, really. You worked hard to keep Peter and Aunt May out of Brockâs world.
You never told him when you met up with Peter on the Sundays you were able to slip out of the house, giving excuses of your errands in Brooklyn and spending time reading in the park. He never questioned you, never thought that you would lie to him because he thought you to be feeble and submissive.
He confused you for the character in which you played for him. You werenât the only one who could be fooled by someone who was supposed to love them.
You sighed as you pushed your way into the front door of the home, the chill of the inside no warmer than the flutter of snow falling outside. You reluctantly unwrapped your scarf, hung your coat, and eyed the emptiness of the living room. There was a loneliness in this home you were never quite able to shake, even in the moments Brock was around. It was never his company you craved.
A chill swept up your spine and you tugged your cardigan across your chest. Hoping there might be something in the kitchen you could throw together to make soup, you kicked off your shoes by the door and scurried your way across the living room. Hell, youâd even settle for a cup of tea and a PB&J if it was all you had.
Humming to yourself, you didnât notice the murmured voices beyond the door as you pushed your way inside.
You froze in your tracks, nearly stumbling over your feet to find Brock and a few men in suits you didnât recognize sitting around the table, eyes all trained on you.
James stood in the corner of the room, observing, and if you hadnât already known what he did for your husband, you would have thought he was out of place.
Even the limited interactions you had with him had been decent, kind almost, and certainly nothing like the rest of the men your husband kept under his payroll. He nodded at you in acknowledgement, hands clasped behind his back. It was subtle, but it was there. It was more than any other Hydra members offered you.
Brockâs jaw was clenched when you finally dared to look in his direction, a silent warning for you to leave the room, but you huffed, letting the door close behind you as you made your way to the stove and turned on the top right burner. You usually had a bit more defiance in you after your time with Peter. He reminded you of who you used to be.
âGentlemen, this is my wife,â Brock announced, forced smile and tight in his tone. He never offered your name, like withholding it was another lock he kept you under; dehumanized and alone.
You could hear the murmurs of approval from his business associates as you put a pot on the stove. Just as you were reaching for a can of broth from the pantry, Brock cleared his throat. You gritted your teeth and turned to face him.
âWhy donât you let Clara make something for you, baby?â
He wasnât asking to be kind. He wanted you gone.
Clara quickly stepped in from the adjoining room, a sweet woman in her early seventies who had been working for the Rumlow family for decades and put up with far more than she should. You shook your head at her, offering a small smile as you held up your hand.
âI can manage just fine, thanks,â you replied.
âBaby,â Brock urged, the threatening nature of his voice masked under the pet name you despised, âweâre in the middle of a very important meeting.â
âYouâre also in the middle of the kitchen and Iâm hungry,â you snapped back, pleased by the flash of shock on his face. âYou have a thousand other rooms in this house, you canât go anywhere else?â
Youâd come to regret that jab later, but the satisfaction of the way his forced smile faded down into an aggravated frown was too sweet to resist. As you turned back to the stove, you spotted James in the corner attempting to suppress a smile, though he quickly pushed it aside when Brock called his name.
âKarpov, please escort my wife somewhere sheâll be more comfortable. Iâll have Clara bring her dinner when itâs ready.â
James nodded, stern features replacing the softness of the smile and he stepped forward, gesturing for you to follow.
âYou canât be serious,â you gaped, glancing at James before you turned back to Brock.
You werenât a child and you didnât need to be treated as such, but with the look on Brockâs face, the redness burning in patches on his neck and the glare in his eyes as he stared you down, warning you to shut your damn mouth, and you silenced immediately.
Youâd seen that look before. It wasnât one you enjoyed being on the receiving end of.
âMaâam, please come with me,â James requested, voice low, soft, and he placed a hand on your arm to lead you away but you yanked it from his grasp harsher than you intended.
It wasnât him you were angry with but he was just as much a part of Hydraâs world as your husband was. He chose this life. You were forced into it. It didnât matter how sweet and gentle he was, or the fact that he seemed to care about your books or your wellbeing. He was still a man following orders.
Frustration was etching in your skin, leaving you feeling antsy and shaken, but you stood your ground. You met Brockâs eye from across the room, a challenge of wills between you.
âDonât make me ask again,â Brock growled, slowly standing from his position.
It was then you felt another soft touch on the mid of your shoulder blades. Gentle, guiding, and entirely unlike the hands of his men before who had yanked you from the room with a firm grasp around your wrist that left red marks and aching. You turned to find James watching you carefully, offering a nod in encouragement, and you shivered away from his fingertips.
His hand fell immediately and he made no efforts to touch you again.
You glanced back at your husband, and then to Clara who had already starting preparing the soup with the ingredients you had taken out of the pantry. With a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Brock with a satisfied, prideful smirk youâd come to loath.
âKeep an eye on her, Karpov,â Brock called out to James and you turned your shoulder to find him following you into the living room.
There was an apologetic look about him, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his hair falling down into his face. He offered you a tight-lipped smile despite the hardened frown on your face, and it only seemed to add to the confusion he elicited in you.
âI donât need a babysitter, just so you know,â you said, arms folded over your chest as you leaned against the back of the couch.
âOh, I am fully aware,â James nodded, a slight chuckle escaping him. âThink you can do me a favor and let me stick around for a bit though? Just so I donât piss off the boss?â
You laughed despite yourself. The tension quickly fading from your shoulders and your arms unfolded from your chest. Hands gripping at the suede fabric of the couch, you turned to see James smiling at you. It was bright, leaving dimples on his cheeks and wrinkles by his eyes. He was really quite beautiful if you stopped and let yourself think so, which you did not.
âI suppose I can be fine with that.â
A silence took over for a moment and he shifted in his stance. He didnât care for the quiet, you noticed, watching the way his eyes glanced down to his watch and he started to tap his toe against the hardwood floors. It took you a few years, but youâd come to savor the silent moment likes these. They meant you were alone, out of Brock and Hydraâs reach. They were a blanket of warmth and safety.
James seemed to find them unsettling.
âI actually have something for you,â he said suddenly, a slight jolt in his body as the realization came back to him and he quickly made his way to a black backpack sitting in the corner of the living room.
You narrowed your eyes on him, wondering what your husbandâs enforcer could possibly have in that bag. You watched as he dug around the inside and tried to steal a glance over his shoulder when he stood up abruptly with a sudden nervous energy about him.
He didnât say anything as he extended his hand to you; in his grasp was a copy of A Farewell to Arms.
You swallowed, stilling immediately, as you stared at it for a moment, giving yourself just a moment to process exactly what this was before your eyes trailed up to his.
He was swaying on his feet and it surprised you to watch a man who had been hired by your husband, to have dozens of pounds of muscle on his frame, and standing at six feet tall to be so nervous. You carefully took the book from his hands, running your fingers along the print of the title before you flipped through the pages.
It was faded on the cover and the binding was near in pieces from over stretching and cracking down the middle with use, but it was still readable, even with the ring of coffee stained on the first page of chapter one. The back cover had a high school library sticker adhered to the page that looked like it had been picked at relentlessly, though it won out in the end.
Worn over the years of being passed from student to student until ultimately James took it home and kept it more than a decade ago. It was a relic. A memory. It was perfect in every way and suddenly there was a lump in your throat you couldnât quite explain. It had been years since youâd known kindness like this inside this home.
You had Peter and Aunt May, but they were like treasured secrets; ones you kept at the furthest distance from Brock as you could. This â this book in your hands â was something else entirely. You couldnât remember the last time Brock brought you something simply because it reminded him of you.
James managed to make your heart ache and your stomach twist all at once, and youâd only known him a few weeks. You were at a complete loss.
âI know itâs not a first edition but,â he stumbled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, âit was one of the few classics I liked back in high school. Itâs, uh, seen some things⊠clearly.â
He chuckled anxiously, gesturing to the worn-down binding, and after a moment of what seemed to be pure shock, you tugged the book to your chest, hugging it close to your heart. A smile lit up your face, sparkling like gold and glitter and magic in your eyes. It was like a rush of heat in your veins and breath of fresh air.
âDo you want to see the library?â you asked suddenly and he seemed surprised by that as he raised an eyebrow, taking a step back. Now it was your turn to shift nervously on your feet as you stole a glance back over to the kitchen. âYou know, if youâre stuck with me for a little while?â
James smiled, the corners of his lips curving slowly into his cheeks, and he nodded.
You grinned, turning on your heels and allowing him to follow you. You kept the Hemingway classic close to your chest the entire walk and tried not to think of the implications of it or the fact that Brock never once took any interest in your books or that youâd only known James a few weeks and he already seemed to be more interested in your love of fiction than your husband ever was.
You pushed all those thoughts aside. At least, you tried to. James wasnât making it exceptionally easy with the way he was stunned into near silence as you pushed open the heavy oak doors and led him inside your sanctuary.
âI know you said you saw it before, butââ
âNot like this,â he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief as he stepped inside.
You knew a forced smile when you saw it and the way James walked around the room, his hand trailing along the shelf and closely examining the titles and the intricate detailing in the woodwork, every ounce of the bewilderment on his face seemed to be entirely genuine. He paused at the end of the first row, chuckling to himself as he pulled out a novel you quickly realized was among your Bradbury collection.
Fahrenheit 451. The book he asked you about the second time you ever spoke to him. There were smiles in between, careful glances and slight nods of acknowledgment in a way none of Brockâs men ever offered to you before, but the first time he talked to you, really talked to you, without the presence of your husband, was the first time youâd laughed in that home in a long time.
âYou can borrow it, if you like,â you offered, leaning against the shelf as you watched him flip open the pages, studying the near translucency of the paper and the sculpted gold framing of the font on the cover.
âThink I might be a bit too rough around the edges for something as delicate as this,â he replied and it made your stomach twist in knots with the way he laughed to himself. The feeling was so foreign to you, you almost didnât recognize it. It had been years since anyone brought those kinds of butteries around.
âI donât believe thatâs true,â you shrugged, stepping closer. âThereâs no use in having a library full of books you canât read. Itâs what theyâre here for.â
âNot sure that applies to ones worth thousands of dollars,â he mumbled awkwardly, though he couldnât seem to tear his eyes away from the first page, like he had already started reading. His eyes were scanning the page, a slight curve of his lips as he read, and you swore your heart fluttered, but you shoved the feeling deep down because it wasnât one you were allowed to have.
âIt does, actually,â you countered and he looked up from the page to find you standing just a few feet away.
He sighed, clearly reluctant. His eyes trailed from the pages to your face, and back to the pages again. âOnly if youâre sure.â
âI insist.â
You smiled at him and he closed the book, letting his hand fall to the side with the novel pressed to his hip. He nodded in appreciation.
âGuess itâs the least you could do now that Iâve gifted you such a relic,â he grinned, nodding to the novel in your hands nearly torn at the seams, with pages bending in the corners from unwanted moisture and cracks in the cover.
âHey!â you laughed, swatting his arm playfully, âdonât knock my new favorite book.â
âFavorite, huh?â
Your cheeks hurt. Blushing and heart pounding. It was suddenly five years earlier and you werenât tied down by rope and duty and bound to a home and husband you wanted nothing to do with. It felt like, for a short impossible moment, that maybe you could start again, maybe want something for yourself.
But James was just as much a part of Hydra as Brock was; maybe even more so because it was his hands carrying out orders. It didnât matter that the soft hue of bright blue eyes and the sweetness in his smile seemed to contradict everything you knew about him. He was still Hydra.
Realizing you had been staring too long, standing too close, you quickly cleared your throat, stepping back and James let out a heavy sigh, looking just about everywhere around the room but at you.
A sudden knock at the door made you flinch, hand darting to your heart to hold you steady.
âMiss Y/n?â a voice called. Clara. You could smell the homemade soup from across the room.
âJust a moment,â you called back.
You were hidden behind an aisle of books, shielded by the abundance of thick covers and pages, hiding this stolen moment â or whatever it was. You glanced back at James nervously, a silent apology in your eyes and he seemed to understand immediately. It was time for him to leave.
He offered you a short smile, holding up the Bradbury novel in his hand with a slight nod of appreciation, before he quietly slipped from the library. Clara eyed him as he left, keeping a careful distance as she usually did when Brockâs employees were around. When you emerged from behind the row of shelves, she had already set up your tray on the coffee table, folding the napkin into a beautiful design.
âThat oneâs new around here, isnât he?â she asked, referring to James, a slight tremor in her voice that came with age. She smiled at you, saying more between the lines, but you knew what she meant.
James didnât seem to be anything like the other men Rumlow kept company with. He was kind, with bright eyes and a warm smile. He cared about your library and your novels without forcing his way through a conversation for the sake of politeness.
He brought you a book, one from his own home, one he kept since his school days and must have dug through old boxes for, simply because he thought it might make you smile.
He was genuine. It had been a long time since youâd known anything like that within the walls of this home.
And it terrified you.
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Not The Boy He Once Knew
Summary: Even if heâs not the best at always showing it, Phil cares about his sons. But when one leaves home and goes down a dark path, all Phil wants is for his little soldier boy to come home safely.
Warnings: Death, stabbing
This is based on Obscuriteaâs Little Soldier Boy animatic. You can find them on Twitter at @/0bscuritea.
Phil remembered holding his children for the first time. He could have watched Techno's little snout twitch for as long as his eldest would allow him. Wilbur stared at everything, as if it was mandatory for him to visually absorb as much of the world around him as possible. This included the young pig boy hovering by door, unsure whether he wanted to meet the one who was had made him a big brother. Tommy was a wriggler, that was for sure, always trying to get into a better position within the blanket. Wilbur certainly didn't help things when he clambered onto the sofa in order to push himself through the space under Phil's free arm so he could get a better view of the baby.
Many summer afternoons were spent sitting in the shade of trees, watching his sons play with each other. Sometimes, he'd even be out there strumming on his guitar while doing so. The older Wilbur and Techno got, the more they liked to engage in rough play. More than once, Tommy would be happily sitting on his lap before finding himself caught up in the latest rough and tumble session.
One day while his two eldest are 12 and 9 respectively, Phil is horrified to see them return home from a night time adventure in the nearby woods with blood on their person. It would seem that they'd run into a number of zombies and skeletons. Wilbur had tripped and this had caused Techno to make use of his axe. Most of the blood wasn't even theirs so they argued it wasn't a big deal. As Phil retrieves the bread he has on hand for situations like these, he scolds his boys for being reckless. There wouldn't have even been any mobs about if they'd gone out in the day. Just because death was a three strikes and you're out kind of deal didn't mean they could risk injury or worse for the sake of fun. Now, were there any cuts or scrapes they wanted him to look at? Just the one on Techno's snout? Well alright, best get that sorted then off to bed.
During a week where his attention had been directed perhaps everywhere except towards Wilbur, he notices the light is still on in his room. Good. With a knock, he gets invited in. An apology is issued, after which Phil pulls out some wheat and cocoa beans he had lying around. The boy in his early teens acts as if his eyes don't momentarily light up once it clicks what those ingredients are for. When he makes excuses about being too old to be bribed with cookies as well as pointing out that it was getting late, Phil calls his bluff. Come on, let this be his way of saying sorry tonight then he promises tomorrow morning they can have a guitar session, just the two of them. Wilbur rolls his eyes but heads to the kitchen regardless. Phil's glad he does because that is the first time Wilbur plays an original song he was in the process of creating with him as the audience. It was only a shame that incidences like these were becoming few and far between. He wasn't going to catch every time Wilbur felt ignored, especially if the kid slowly stop attempting to get his attention as often in the first place.
It's an odd feeling when Wilbur says his goodbyes. The years have passed so quickly it's hard to believe his little boy isn't quite so little anymore. However, his second son had been a budding musician for as long as he'd had the dexterity for it. It would be impossible to forget how he had beamed with such intensity upon being gifted his first guitar, so much so that Phil had slightly worried he might injure his mouth or jaw somehow. He'll be fine. Phil had nothing to worry about. Besides, Tommy had already made the journey himself a few weeks ago and it sounded like he was already making friends.
Life carries on with Techno helping out with the farming and the occasional correspondence arriving from the other two. When he hears about drugs in a van, he rolls his eyes. Trust them to do something ridiculous like that. It's less humourous when the word 'war' begins to get thrown around. Then shortly afterwards, Techno is leaving to assist his brothers in their endeavours. This results in an argument as Techno packs. By all means, help Wilbur and Tommy but don't get involved in a war that wasn't his to fight. Phil's anxiety regarding his sons' wellbeing grows due to talk of plans to win back L'Manburg after a failed election resulted in an apparent dictatorship. The more days that passed, the stronger his desire to have all his boys back home safely with him grew.
He sits alone at a table that had once been abundant with life. Once again, Tommy has sent him a letter regarding the situation over there. He was getting scared of his brother's apparent obsession with potentially destroying the nation in a blast. Wilbur had even been heard wondering if Phil would be proud of him. Given the current circumstances, he wasn't so sure how to answer. Tommy had even confessed that both he and Wilbur were on their last lives which petrified Phil more than any of the bad news he'd gotten so far. However, his son was right. Enough was enough.
It was time for Phil to make his way to L'Manburg.
He almost finds it funny how Wilbur's voice immediately morphs into the defensiveness of a child as soon as he realises his father has entered his secret detonation room. It was honestly reminiscent of times such as when he got caught stalking a chicken to gain the egg necessary for a pumpkin pie, said pumpkin being dragged behind him by the stalk. However, his son wasn't 4 anymore. Wilbur was a grown man who had proven himself to maintain less than innocent thoughts and motivations.
But Phil was his father nevertheless. And he would talk him out of this 'blow up L'Manburg' plan like others such as Tommy had previously done. Besides, he knew Wilbur. Deep down, that boy didn't have it in him to cause that much destruction, let alone risk instigating any potential loss of life. All he had to do was calmly talk him down.
L'Manburg had been won back. Even with Wilbur yelling in frustration about the several times he came close to pressing the button, that could be seen as a sign of strength. They could agree to not do anything rash then gradually dismantle the vast quantity of TNT hidden in the walls. The notion that Wilbur would risk triggering the button to see if it was actually rigged is so absurd it makes Phil laugh aloud.
He's certainly not in the mood to laugh within a minute of that moment. By the time thirty or so seconds have elapsed, he is on top of his son, both of them on the ground with only dust and rubble left of what had been the secret underground room. Wilbur had been talking about Eret one second before uttering the infamous line of "it was never meant to be" the next. Phil doesn't think it had truly registered in his mind that the explosives were about to go off when he leapt to protect his son from them.
This couldn't be happening. He knew Wilbur, he knew that he would never be capable of blowing up L'Manburg. Except Wilbur was. He... he had.
It's as Wilbur is screaming into the sky about his unfinished symphony remaining forever unfinished that the reality of his personal mistake makes itself known to Phil. Tommy had warned him that Wilbur was going off the rails. He'd said that Phil shouldn't let his guard be lowered around his brother. The second born of their family was currently not to underestimated.
That grin, that sheer ecstasy upon achieving his goal, the way Wilbur revelled in his 'victory'. Well, what more proof did Phil need to know he'd done the exact things he'd been warned against?
He barely has the chance to acknowledge that before Wilbur is demanding the unimaginable from him. No, perhaps 'demand' isn't the right word. Begging might be more appropriate. A sword is tossed at his feet, an invitation for it to be used. He can't though. Not this. Anything but this. The punishment for reversing countless hours of dedicated hard work should not be a death sentence. That simply does not equate.
"God, you're- You're my son! No matter what you do, no matter what you act like, I can't..."
And it's true. This was the kid who would (along with Tommy most of the time) go on epic adventures to claim treats in chests which were placed high up for the exact purpose of deterring such behaviour. He was the one who'd be found sneaking off to the surrounding caves and mines for the sake of exploration. It was him who practised his rallying speech skills on his brothers and father. More than that, Wilbur was a talented musician who liked writing songs and loved his family. He wasn't some irredeemable criminal who deserved to die to pay for the pain he'd caused.
Phil was not going to give Wilbur what he wanted. At least, he was against it until he realised this was about more than punishment or penitence. This was him asking someone he trusted to free him from the burden of all his wrongdoings. Wilbur wanted peace in his life again. And what kind of father would he be if he couldn't give his son that?
He grabs the sword. If he's going to do this, he'd rather make it as fast as possible. The last thing he wants is the suffering of a loved one. Wilbur tenses as the blade finds its way into his chest then exits. The gasps and stuttered breaths are worse than his son begging for death a minute ago. It's okay, he mutters. Just breathe through it. It'll be alright in a moment. Phil doesn't know whether him stroking Wilbur's hair is helping at all but somehow, it's helping Phil himself so that's good enough. The hand gripping his side begins to lose strength. He lets out a grief-stricken groan as he holds his son as tightly as he can.
"You couldn't just let- you couldn't just win?" There is no response, not even a hint of it.
The walls blown apart, he knows everyone can see him. But what does he care? Wilbur's head rests against his father's chest, arms loosely drooping towards the floor and body slumping alongside it. When he inevitably forces himself to let go, to leave the remains of this godforsaken room and... and bury his son's body back home, he's aware he'll have to face the fact his lap is stained with blood. But that can wait for as long as he can delay it.
For now though, he'll sit here with his eyes closed. Maybe that way he can somehow convince himself he's just holding the little boy who loved finding his way into his father's arms whenever he was drowsy, albeit an enlarged version. It's all he can do to keep the tears and questions of how this could have been prevented at bay.
#dream smp#philza#wilbur soot#technoblade#tommyinnit#obscuritea#my writing#I wrote like 90% of this the day after discovering/the animatic coming out#but due to irl stuff I forgot to finish it until Ghostbur started talking about being resurrected#titling stuff is dumb#I have just sat here for like 15 minutes trying to think of a decent title that wasn't the wip one of 'little soldier boy' since it doesn't#fit this fic as well as it does the animatic#but never mind#tw death#tw stabbing#sorry forgot to add these when I first posted this
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Out of context quotes said by alters.
Well, we talk to some people, an' honest to god, our conversations are the fuckin' weirdest. There are all out of context quotes by someone in this system, an' I couldn't tell yous the context even if I tried.
"My hobbies is drawing, writing poems, voice acting, MEMEING, being gay, role-playing, and harrassing people in DMs with pictures or raps."
"Only real men are solidified."
"I dont care about the ballerinas"
"listen. im stucky bot crunchy.." "gushers!"
"No, you overpriced piece of rotten ham."
"EAT HIS MORAL AMBIGIOUS FINGERS"
"hes a nasty little bread boy aint he mr deets"
"Never take Lucky's lucky charms."
"my fuckin caprisun aj is gone im going to sob the rage of a thousand screaming donkeys right after fiona removes puss n boots from the narrative right after takin a royal shit in her shoes i mean how the fuck did she find the right shoe size her feet must be fuckin gigantic and its alarming how she and shrek can find anything in their size can you imagine the pants thick thighs big waist no ass lookin motherclucker"
"I could oppress the youth if I wanted to."
"im gonna cry what food kingdom does seaweed belong to"
"i pimp slapped beethoven you see me yeah hes my bitch now"
"i have been baby too much i kill people now"
"i will delete you"
"shut up you committed tax evasion"
"Petition to include Grandmothers."
"PINATA"
"dont make hair live a life"
"leave the scooter boy alone"
"The war criminal strikes again."
"RATTLE ME BONES AND CALL ME PELVIS"
"i feed the boneless on a saturday evening"
#did system#fictive#introject#dissociative system#did osdd#dissociative identity disorder#traumagenic system#actually traumagenic#out of context#quotes#weird funny#funny quotes#i cried finding these#why are we like this#please save me
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âI cannot tell you that Hitler took Austria by tanks and guns; it would distort history. If you remember the plot of the Sound of Music, the Von Trapp family escaped over the Alps rather than submit to the Nazis. Kitty wasnât so lucky. Her family chose to stay in her native Austria. She was 10 years old, but bright and aware. And she was watching. âWe elected him by a landslide â 98 percent of the vote,â she recalls. She wasnât old enough to vote in 1938 â approaching her 11th birthday. But she remembers. âEveryone thinks that Hitler just rolled in with his tanks and took Austria by force.â No so. Hitler is welcomed to Austria âIn 1938, Austria was in deep Depression. Nearly one-third of our workforce was unemployed. We had 25 percent inflation and 25 percent bank loan interest rates. Farmers and business people were declaring bankruptcy daily. Young people were going from house to house begging for food. Not that they didnât want to work; there simply werenât any jobs. âMy mother was a Christian woman and believed in helping people in need. Every day we cooked a big kettle of soup and baked bread to feed those poor, hungry people â about 30 daily.â âWe looked to our neighbor on the north, Germany, where Hitler had been in power since 1933.â she recalls. âWe had been told that they didnât have unemployment or crime, and they had a high standard of living. âNothing was ever said about persecution of any group â Jewish or otherwise. We were led to believe that everyone in Germany was happy. We wanted the same way of life in Austria. We were promised that a vote for Hitler would mean the end of unemployment and help for the family. Hitler also said that businesses would be assisted, and farmers would get their farms back. âNinety-eight percent of the population voted to annex Austria to Germany and have Hitler for our ruler. âWe were overjoyed,â remembers Kitty, âand for three days we danced in the streets and had candlelight parades. The new government opened up big field kitchens and everyone was fed. âAfter the election, German officials were appointed, and, like a miracle, we suddenly had law and order. Three or four weeks later, everyone was employed. The government made sure that a lot of work was created through the Public Work Service. âHitler decided we should have equal rights for women. Before this, it was a custom that married Austrian women did not work outside the home. An able-bodied husband would be looked down on if he couldnât support his family. Many women in the teaching profession were elated that they could retain the jobs they previously had been required to give up for marriage. âThen we lost religious education for kids âOur education was nationalized. I attended a very good public school.. The population was predominantly Catholic, so we had religion in our schools. The day we elected Hitler (March 13, 1938), I walked into my schoolroom to find the crucifix replaced by Hitlerâs picture hanging next to a Nazi flag. Our teacher, a very devout woman, stood up and told the class we wouldnât pray or have religion anymore. Instead, we sang âDeutschland, Deutschland, Uber Alles,â and had physical education. âSunday became National Youth Day with compulsory attendance. Parents were not pleased about the sudden change in curriculum. They were told that if they did not send us, they would receive a stiff letter of warning the first time. The second time they would be fined the equivalent of $300, and the third time they would be subject to jail.â And then things got worse. âThe first two hours consisted of political indoctrination. The rest of the day we had sports. As time went along, we loved it. Oh, we had so much fun and got our sports equipment free. âWe would go home and gleefully tell our parents about the wonderful time we had. âMy mother was very unhappy,â remembers Kitty. âWhen the next term started, she took me out of public school and put me in a convent. I told her she couldnât do that and she told me that someday when I grew up, I would be grateful. There was a very good curriculum, but hardly
any fun â no sports, and no political indoctrination. âI hated it at first but felt I could tolerate it. Every once in a while, on holidays, I went home. I would go back to my old friends and ask what was going on and what they were doing. âTheir loose lifestyle was very alarming to me. They lived without religion. By that time, unwed mothers were glorified for having a baby for Hitler. âIt seemed strange to me that our society changed so suddenly. As time went along, I realized what a great deed my mother did so that I wasnât exposed to that kind of humanistic philosophy. âIn 1939, the war started, and a food bank was established. All food was rationed and could only be purchased using food stamps. At the same time, a full-employment law was passed which meant if you didnât work, you didnât get a ration card, and, if you didnât have a card, you starved to death. âWomen who stayed home to raise their families didnât have any marketable skills and often had to take jobs more suited for men. âSoon after this, the draft was implemented. âIt was compulsory for young people, male and female, to give one year to the labor corps,â remembers Kitty. âDuring the day, the girls worked on the farms, and at night they returned to their barracks for military training just like the boys. âThey were trained to be anti-aircraft gunners and participated in the signal corps. After the labor corps, they were not discharged but were used in the front lines. âWhen I go back to Austria to visit my family and friends, most of these women are emotional cripples because they just were not equipped to handle the horrors of combat. âThree months before I turned 18, I was severely injured in an air raid attack. I nearly had a leg amputated, so I was spared having to go into the labor corps and into military service. âWhen the mothers had to go out into the work force, the government immediately established child care centers. âYou could take your children ages four weeks old to school age and leave them there around-the-clock, seven days a week, under the total care of the government. âThe state raised a whole generation of children. There were no motherly women to take care of the children, just people highly trained in child psychology. By this time, no one talked about equal rights. We knew we had been had. âBefore Hitler, we had very good medical care. Many American doctors trained at the University of Vienna.. âAfter Hitler, health care was socialized, free for everyone. Doctors were salaried by the government. The problem was, since it was free, the people were going to the doctors for everything. âWhen the good doctor arrived at his office at 8 a.m., 40 people were already waiting and, at the same time, the hospitals were full. âIf you needed elective surgery, you had to wait a year or two for your turn. There was no money for research as it was poured into socialized medicine. Research at the medical schools literally stopped, so the best doctors left Austria and emigrated to other countries. âAs for healthcare, our tax rates went up to 80 percent of our income. Newlyweds immediately received a $1,000 loan from the government to establish a household. We had big programs for families. âAll day care and education were free. High schools were taken over by the government and college tuition was subsidized. Everyone was entitled to free handouts, such as food stamps, clothing, and housing. âWe had another agency designed to monitor business. My brother-in-law owned a restaurant that had square tables. âGovernment officials told him he had to replace them with round tables because people might bump themselves on the corners. Then they said he had to have additional bathroom facilities. It was just a small dairy business with a snack bar. He couldnât meet all the demands. âSoon, he went out of business. If the government owned the large businesses and not many small ones existed, it could be in control. âWe had consumer protection, too âWe were told how to shop and what to buy. Free enterprise was essentially abolished. We had a planning agency
specially designed for farmers. The agents would go to the farms, count the livestock, and then tell the farmers what to produce, and how to produce it. âIn 1944, I was a student teacher in a small village in the Alps. The villagers were surrounded by mountain passes which, in the winter, were closed off with snow, causing people to be isolated. âSo people intermarried and offspring were sometimes retarded. When I arrived, I was told there were 15 mentally retarded adults, but they were all useful and did good manual work. âI knew one, named Vincent, very well. He was a janitor of the school. One day I looked out the window and saw Vincent and others getting into a van. âI asked my superior where they were going. She said to an institution where the State Health Department would teach them a trade, and to read and write. The families were required to sign papers with a little clause that they could not visit for 6 months. âThey were told visits would interfere with the program and might cause homesickness. âAs time passed, letters started to dribble back saying these people died a natural, merciful death. The villagers were not fooled. We suspected what was happening. Those people left in excellent physical health and all died within 6 months. We called this euthanasia. âNext came gun registration. People were getting injured by guns. Hitler said that the real way to catch criminals (we still had a few) was by matching serial numbers on guns. Most citizens were law-abiding and dutifully marched to the police station to register their firearms. Not long afterwards, the police said that it was best for everyone to turn in their guns. The authorities already knew who had them, so it was futile not to comply voluntarily. âNo more freedom of speech. Anyone who said something against the government was taken away. We knew many people who were arrested, not only Jews, but also priests and ministers who spoke up. âTotalitarianism didnât come quickly, it took 5 years from 1938 until 1943, to realize full dictatorship in Austria. Had it happened overnight, my countrymen would have fought to the last breath. Instead, we had creeping gradualism. Now, our only weapons were broom handles. The whole idea sounds almost unbelievable that the state, little by little eroded our freedom.â âThis is my eyewitness account. âItâs true. Those of us who sailed past the Statue of Liberty came to a country of unbelievable freedom and opportunity. âAmerica is truly is the greatest country in the world. âDonât let freedom slip away. âAfter America, there is no place to go.â Kitty Werthmann ***Re-read the part where she says âeverything was freeâ - healthcare and so on. Very much worth reading twice.****
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Field of Poppies Part 3
Summary:Â After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.
Part 3: Amelia questions the Shelbys actions as they establish themselves as bookies.Â
March 1909
            Polly said that Amelia wasnât feeling well and wouldnât be joining the family for dinner. The only one who seemed hung up on this fact was Tommy. The others were happy to go about eating and chatting about their day. As John had predicted, Ada seemed to forget what she was crying about that morning. She was all too excited to tell everyone that she had been the best at double-dutch in the schoolyard. Even better than that no-good-pigtailed-bratty-stuck-up-snob Ingrid.
           Tommy wasnât too interested in the mundane details of his familyâs life. His mind was elsewhere, so he finished dinner quickly and headed upstairs.
           When Amelia arrived, Polly had to rearrange the Shelbys to make room. Tommy had to camp out on the couch a bit longer than he wouldâve liked because none of his siblings could agree to any proposed arrangement. John and Ada didnât want to bunk together. Arthur argued he was the oldest and should have his own room. And none of them wanted to be placed with Finn. Finally, Polly put her foot down. Tommy and John would share a room and that was that.
           But when Tommy passed what once was his room, the door was open and it was empty. He frowned and continued down the cramped hall. The bathroom door was closed and he could hear retching from inside. He lightly knocked on the door. âMel? Alright?â
           The young woman cleared her throat and stood up from her spot kneeling at the toilet. She rinsed her mouth out in the washbasin and opened the door. âIâm okay.â
           âSounded like you were getting sick.â
           âItâs normal with the baby.â She assured him; a bit embarrassed that heâd heard her.
           âOh.â He nodded and could remember times when his mother was ill with his siblings. But he hadnât thought much of it. She had always put on a brave face for her kids. âPol said you werenât feeling well.â
           âLong day, I guess.â She moved past him and went back to the bedroom.
           Tommy followed even if she didnât really invite him to. He leaned up against the doorframe. âAnything you want to talk about or I could fuck off ân leave you be.â
           She laughed softly and waved him into the room. âClose the door, would you?â
           He obliged, going to sit on a chest across from the bed, by the nearly empty desk. Even if it was his room, he didnât want to invade her privacy.
           Amelia sat down on the bed and leaned down to remove her stockings. She felt so sluggish and weary but couldnât tell if it really was just because of her busy day or because her mind was a factory of worries. She tossed the stockings toward the hamper and began to unpin her hair.
           âWhatâs on your mind? You look-concerned.â
           âDo you think that not having your father around reallyâŠwell, I guess thatâs a stupid fucking question. I justâŠâ She groaned when she couldnât find the words to voice her distress. She realized she wouldnât get anywhere if she was asking rhetorical questions in some roundabout way. âDo you think that my child will hate me because they wonât know their father? Honestly, be honest.â
           Tommy was surprised. He expected she would go to Polly with such a problem. True, they were longtime friends but what did he know about children and parenthood? âI donât think your child would hate you for anything? Youâll be a great mother, Mel, you know that.â
           Amelia tipped her head up to the ceiling. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she didnât want them to fall. âI want you to be honest with me, Tom, not to say nice things. We both know nothing in this fucking world is nice.â
           âHey, now. Look at me. Amelia, look at me.â
           She did so, reluctantly. A tear slipped down her cheek as she met his blue eyes.
           âYeah, so the worldâs a pile of shit. But there are nice things if there werenât then what would be the point of living, aye?â He pointed out. âI donât know what your child will say âbout anything. But I know that theyâll think the world of you because you did everything for them. Thatâs something, right?â
           She shook her head. Everything in her wanted to stay miserable. She wanted to torture herself because she felt she deserved it. All of her actions had led her to that moment. She deserved what she got. But Tommyâs words coaxed her gently to a nicer place. A place where there was hope. There was the possibility that she could succeed in raising her child.
           âIâll say it again but youâve got a family here. Weâre gonna help you out. And-and if I need to step in as some sorta father figure than I will.â He straightened up a bit as he finished. Suddenly determined to take on the challenge heâd thrust upon himself.
           âTomâŠâ
           âIâm serious.â He reiterated with a half-smile. âI mean, I may not be any good at it, but Iâll try. I said Iâd take care of you and I intend on doing that. Iâm not some good for nothing like-â He purposefully didnât finish his thought. It didnât need to be finished; they both knew they were talking about Arthur Sr. Tommy strove to be the exact opposite of his father. He wouldnât beat his children, wouldnât drink their money away, would provide for them, would make sure dinner was always on the table, would give them a sense of safety and love. He could give that to Ameliaâs child, they both deserved to be treated well. Why shouldnât Tommy be the one to do so?
           âI canât ask you to do that.â Amelia looked hesitant. Would it be nice to have a strong male figure in her childâs life? Of course. She worried what would happen without one. But to put that responsibility on someone else her age? They were both still so young.
           âYou donât have to ask.â He shrugged and stood up. âAre you feeling a bit better? I could see if they spared you any leftovers downstairs.â He offered as if it were the first thing he could do to prove he was fit to help her out.
           She smiled. âMaybe a bit of bread.â Â
           âAlright, just be a moâ.â
May 1909
         After his talk with Amelia, Tommy was more intent on setting up the betting shop as soon as they could. The empty place offered so many possibilities in his eyes. Possibilities that could lift him and his family out of poverty. Both he and Arthur knew it would be an uphill battle. There were already plenty of betting shops tucked away in the dark corners of Birmingham and elsewhere. Using fronts as laundry, pubs, or even butchers. Beyond that, there were men who controlled the tracks. They fixed races to their heartâs delight and didnât take kindly to others who tried to do the same. Without explicit permission, of course. Their bookies were violent and no one in their right mind would go after them. Maybe thatâs why everyone thought Arthur and Tommy were mad.
           And perhaps they were, but that didnât stop them from beginning to take bets out of the shop attached to the flat.
           Polly wanted to be upset that her nephews were bringing trouble so close to their home. But she couldnât deny the income that they were starting to bring in. It wasnât much at first, but it was something. Something that could be counted on for groceries or unexpected expenses. And since Tommy and Arthur had stopped attending school around thirteen, they made mistakes with the odds. So, Polly felt she could step in and mind the books better than they could. She never claimed to be a saint.
           Being a charming man meant Tommy could count on a lot of people joining his little setup. People heâd known for years and could trust. Danny Owens was a good friend with a good heart, Freddie Thorne knew him from Gretaâs meetings. Jeremiah attended church with Polly but he wasnât shy of a little criminal behavior to survive. There were others, but there was a hierarchy of trust that Tommy took very seriously. Family always came first.
           But with the betting shop came trouble. Other bookies werenât so keen that the Shelbys were starting to dip their toes in the business. There was already enough competition in Birmingham alone. So, trouble started to brew.
           It started with just some harassment. A few threats and taunts. The Birmingham Boys apparently werenât going to chalk the Shelbys up to just some amateurs. Even if there was a whiff of a potential threat, they learned to step in and snuff out the problem.
~~~~~~~~~~~
           Thatâs why, a few months after the betting shop was established, Tommy was jumped by five men. Luckily, they hadnât roughed him up too badly. But he did look to be in bad shape when he staggered into the flat. He was limping and held a blood-soaked handkerchief to his nose
           âTom!â Amelia gasped in horror when he came inside and ran into her at the base of the stairs. Six months pregnant, Polly had warned her to be a bit more cautious when it came to surprises and overexerting herself. But of course, she couldnât be prepared for everything Tommy decided to get into.
           âSâalright, sâalright.â He grunted and made his way into the kitchen. He was certain one of his ribs was broken and his nose might have been too. It hadnât exactly been a fair fight. He was taken completely by surprise as five of the Birmingham Boys popped out around a dark corner and immediately pummeled him to the ground. Once the initial blow wore off, Tommy tried to fight back but there wasnât much use. Had Arthur been there, maybe they wouldâve had a chance. But alone, he was knocked to the ground and had his ribs kicked in as the older men shouted slurs at him.
           âWhat happened?â She followed him, still in shock.
           âGot attacked.â He answered through the cloth over his nose and mouth. He went to the water pump and tried to get it going but the pain in his side was too much. He winced in pain and stifled a yelp.
           Amelia quickly dragged a chair over to the pump and made him sit. She filled up the basin with a bit of water and found a dishcloth to use. âCan I see?â
           Tommy removed the bloodied handkerchief. The blood seemed to have ebbed by the time he limped home.
           She carefully began to wipe the blood away from his face. âWhat else hurts?â She asked. They could talk about what happened when she was sure he was okay.
           âMe ribs.â He rested a hand over the painful spot.
           âAlright, well, let me clean you up and I can have a look.â
           Tommy took a few deep breaths. His heart was still racing and of course he was still pissed off that heâd been bested. Of course, he could take some solace that he was severely outnumbered and at a disadvantage. Still, it bruised his ego.
           Amelia tried to lighten the mood a bit. âYou looked like this after you beat up Ben Hearn because he kissed me.â
           It drew a smile from him as he remembered the event from when they were around ten-years-old. Tommy was heartbroken when he heard around school that Ben had kissed his best friend and secret crush. But when he got word that Amelia hadnât wanted to kiss Ben in the first place, Tommy decided to get retribution. Ben had gotten a lucky punch and made Tommyâs nose bleed. But that only angered him more to the point where Arthur had to pull his younger brother off the other boy because it looked like Tommy had murder in his eyes. Â
           âYou knocked out his tooth.â
           Tommy shook his head. âI knocked out two of his teeth.â He corrected with a familiar smirk. âAnd he deserved it.â
           Amelia sighed. âYou were always getting into trouble back then. I thought maybe it would change when we got older butâŠâ She rinsed the cloth and watched the red water trickle into the basin. âMaybe this betting shop idea is too dangerous.â
           âMel-â
           âI know why youâre doing it, and I admire your initiative but you have to know what you might be risking. Money wonât do us any good if youâre injured or-â
           âItâs alright. You donât have to worry.â
           She hung the wet cloth against the side of the basin and turned back toward him. âTom, if youâre coming home like this then I think I have a reason to be worried!â She exclaimed.
           âI know, and Iâm sorry. Iâll sort it out.â He promised.
           Amelia wanted to scold him further but didnât have the heart to. Besides, once Tommy set his mind to something, there wasnât much hope for swaying him. Getting beat up never stopped him before, it likely wouldnât stop him in the future. âYou said your ribs hurt too?â She asked quietly.
           He nodded.
           âI can take a look at them but if theyâre broken you ought to go see a doctor.â She washed any stray stains of blood off her hands and the washbasin.
           âCanât afford a doctor right now.â Tommy stood up with a grunt and returned the chair to the table. He didnât want Polly asking questions the next morning if she found the kitchen in disarray.
           âWhat do you mean? I thought Arthur said you had a good week. Said you had extra money.â Amelia dried her hands.
           âWe did.â
           âSo, whereâs the money?â She questioned further.
           âI spent it.â Tommy grabbed a bottle of stout and uncorked it.
           âOn what?â
           âYouâll see tomorrow, Mel.â
~~~~~~~~~~~
           The next day was Saturday and Amelia had the day off. She watched over John and Ada to give Polly a well-needed break.
           The weather was unseasonably warm so she took the two kids outside to play so they wouldnât be cooped up indoors. Amelia sat on the steps darning one of her stockings while Ada skipped rope and John played football in the street with other neighborhood kids.
           There was a small group of people next door waiting to place bets for the next dayâs race. To the untrained eye, they looked fairly inconspicuous. Amelia hadnât asked what might happen if the cops would catch wind of the operation. No one mentioned it, so she assumed they either had it handled or intentionally didnât want to think about it. Still, Polly had instilled in everyone that if the police were to come around, no one knew a thing about betting shops.
           âS'cuse me miss, is Tommy Shelby âround?â
           Amelia looked up from her stockings and smiled. âDanny?â
           The young manâs face broke into a look of disbelief. âMellie? Is that you?â He removed his hat and got closer. âTom said youâd come back; wasnât sure Iâd recognize you.â Danny Owens had been a longtime friend of the Shelbys. As a boy he was much taller than anyone in class but was quite awkward and quiet. He was from a very poor family, just like the rest of them. He was painfully shy from growing up with an abusive father. But once Tommy and Arthur took him under their wing, he became a bit more confident. He wasnât much for fighting but if it was necessary to protect his friends, he would step in. Though, most kids wouldnât even try to fight him because of his size and broad shoulders.
           Yet, Amelia had always known him as someone with a gentle side. âItâs been a while.â She agreed. âHowâs your family?â
           âTheyâre good. Yeah, everyoneâs good.â Danny fidgeted with his hat as he spoke to her. Â
           She could tell he didnât really want to talk about his family which was all well and good. Amelia didnât want to talk about hers either. âYou were after Tommy?â
           âYou havenât seen him âround have you?â
           âHe should be in the shop. You can go through the kitchen if youâd like.â Amelia scooted to the side so Danny could get by.        Â
           âThanks, Mel. Glad youâre back.â He smiled and walked into the flat.
           As he passed, she noticed his knuckles were bruised and there was a bit of blood smeared over the top of his hand. It sent a shiver down her spine as she realized it wasnât just Tommy getting into trouble. Everyone she once knew as a child was getting caught up in this violence. It mightâve been small skirmishes, akin to the ones they used to get into in the schoolyard. But Amelia reasonably knew that there were much larger stakes at risk. None of them labeled their actions as organized crime, but thatâs what it was. Amelia had heard about large scale gangs in London who controlled a lot more than just horse races. They had control over pubs and other businesses, paid off the police, and there were rumors that they had influence over government too.
           She wasnât sure that was Tommyâs end game but she also didnât know if he had any control over that. Could someone remove themselves from the lifestyle? Or were they in it for life?
           With a sigh, she set her stockings aside and checked on John and Ada across the street. There were so many questions about the future that she couldnât even try to begin to answer. All she could do was see what came of it.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~
           That same night, Amelia was in the kitchen making dinner while Ada rattled on about how she was going to go riding tomorrow and how Uncle Charlie might let her try to jump.
           The front door opened and Tommy poked his head inside. âMel?â He called.
           âIn the kitchen!â She replied.
           âRight, stay there, donât come upstairs âtil I say.â
           She raised an eyebrow but listened and continued peeling potatoes while Ada went on about horses.
           There were a few bumps against the wall and the staircase railing after the front door shut.
           âFucking hell, this thing weighs a ton!â Arthur cursed.
           âOi, be careful.â Tommy chided.
           âBe careful? Itâs gonna damage me âfore I damage it!â
           A couple bangs and thumps and swears later, Tommy called Amelia upstairs.
           She and Ada went up and found him and Arthur in the bedroom. She looked confused until she saw the cot in the corner. Her mouth popped open in shock. âTom?â
           He smiled a bit sheepishly. âFor the baby.â
           âBut I thoughtâŠI thought we would just move Finnâs in here.â She walked over to the new piece of furniture.
           âThat thingâs older than any of us.â He shook his head. âOught to toss it once Finnâs done with it.â
           Amelia ran a hand over the smooth oak wood. It was pristine, no nicks, or peeling varnish to be found. There were even intricate designs in the solid wood side and legs. She felt herself getting teary-eyed. She was didnât even notice as Arthur herded Ada out of the room and back downstairs. âThis is what you spent the money on?â She asked.
           Tommy nodded and shrugged. âThe baby needs one, so why not?â
           She sniffled and went to hug him tightly. âItâs beautiful, thank you.â
           He hugged her back, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Then adoration swept over him. He hadnât realized how much he loved making Amelia happy. He was always fond of her, but seeing her smile was one of the best things to see, in his opinion. Maybe he was still too young to know what love was, but he had a hunch that what he was feeling was love.
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1984 livewatch
the time has finally come to watch the full movie! itâll be sad, itâll be disturbing, itâll possibly be cringy, but itâll be a lot of fun! :D
we start out with the mgm lion! noice ;)
epic quote B)
wait why is opera music playing i thought weâd start at the 2 minutes hate
OMG what if theyâre gonna hate on opera
this looks like a drive-in movie tbh
narrator: âthis is a land of peace and hope, a land of plenty...â OH SHUT UP YOU
theyâre showing wheat like itâs little house on the prairie BOI YOUâRE IN LONDON
this is epic propaganda B)
what if the war footage was taken from ww2 and thus... isnât real :o
HOLD UP is the eurasian war racist?
THE QUEEN HAS ENTERED THE CHAT
WHAT ARE THEY ALL SHOUTING I CANâT HEAR WHAT THE FDR GUY IS SAYING SHUT UPPPPP
oh no it be u (his face is like âWHAT IS GOING ONâ and itâs very lol)
juliaâs so into this! :o
oâbrienâs like âohhh!!!â
look who decided to SHOW UP FINALLY
he pauses a bit before reluctantly joining in yas â„
OMG THIS IS LIKE A SCHOOL ASSEMBLY STOP TALKING GEEZ
good they stopped!
WOWWW DONâT EVEN LIST SUZANNA HAMILTONâS NAME WITH THE OTHERS GIVE HER A âWITHâ CREDIT WOWWWWW
this IS a school assembly theyâre going back to work!
winston in glasses *chefâs kiss*
ooh a rotary dial! great use of tech from when the book was written :D
winstonâs looking over at syme WITH SO MUCH JEALOUSY lol
what if the words they speak are just random stuff with no meaning
OMG confession!!!!!
poor winnie with his cough :(
this confession sounds JUST LIKE WINSTONâS OMG!!!!
winston: âbugger!â heâs a brit lol :D
epic B)
OMG this guy read goldsteinâs book SO DID WINSTON!!!!
i love how the diary is in a brick hole thatâs so cool :D
the diary scene was filmed on april 4th just like in the movie so thatâs way rad man :D
i want you valley!!! :D
ooh theyâre put a smol scene of his childhood in there coolio! :D
he s l e e p
this violin squeak tho :o
OMG THIS IS THE STANDING UP SCHOOL SCENE
itâs not but i can easily imagine it lol :D
heâs a stick omg ;o
when the lady talks to him you know itâs not a recording ;)
lady: âanyone under 45 is perfectly capable of touching his toesâ BOI
oh no PARSONS
parsons: âchoco rations are going upâ c h o c o
parsons: âi seem to have run out of razor blades for some reasonâ yeah,,, for some reason... ;)
this is so a cafeteria scene at school
THEY SAW EACH OTHER OMG
â« i suddenly see him standing there, a beautiful stranger tall and fair, i wanna stuff this weird food in my faaaace! â« :D
me: âthis is so romantic!â winstonâs thoughts: âlemme smash HER WITH A ROCKâ
wait did the lady say pineapple grenade???
HIS FACE LOOOL
syme rip boi
the 11th edition isnât thicc :/
aww winstonâs smol nod â„
parsons: âby 2050 we wonât have conversations like this!â yeah because of screens lol
OMG the food looks and taste like meat but isnât ITâS PLANT BASED MEAT!!!! :o
parsons just pulled a âhey need help with that?â and put winstonâs food on his plate EPIC
juliaâs lookinâ at u ;)
YAS PROLES HOPE!!! :D
oh no DONâT TALK ABOUT THE 50 YEAR OLD WOMAN SEX WINSTON
OH NOOOOOOO
he liked the âbright red lipsâ yet...
THIS CHICKâS LIPS ARENâT BRIGHT BOI
poor baby desperate for money :(
letâs GET THIS BEAT
hand on cheek = doublepluscute ^_^
epic foreshadowing B)
OMG CHESTNUT TREE POEM FORESHADOWINNNGGGGGG
OMG a couple is making out in the bar EPIC
winstonâs just like ânnopeâ
OMG THE THOUGHT POLICE WERE FOLLOWING????
heâs at an antique store in prescott bless his heart â„
mr. charrington sounds so kind WHYYYY
THE BIRTH OF A QUEEN â„
mr. charrington says â4 dollarsâ but theyâre in london??
YAS BELLS OF ST. CLEMENS!!!! :D
winston: âwhat was that?â mr. charrington: âsomething old.â no DUH
they see each other againnn!!!!! :D
winston writes that he hates her SAME WITH A LOOK LIKE THAT
OMG SMOL WINNIE BIG OâBRIEN????? :o
his mom is lying dead in the field like the erza kid in âkirstenâs promiseâ :(
heâs just... staring
OMG SPYING ON THE SPICY STARING ACTION :o
she PLONKED
that âow!â was so fake jules!
this is like anna and hans but not as bad underneath!
julia: âitâs nothing!â but this is turning out to be something... ;)
weâre half an hour in and wowza itâs gone by so fast! :D
winston: *gets a cute love note from julia* YEET!
THE HELICOPTER IS BACC!!!!! theyâre really not making the spying subtle
OMG THIS IS THE THOUGHT CRIMINAL SCENE YAAAAS!!!!! :D
winston is the best plummer confirmed
kid: âyouâre a thought criminal!â winston: *gives a slight âwhaâ face and smiles* ICONIC
:)
the crowd is clapping and cheering over the war yet winstonâs not doing anything SAME
jules is just scooching by lol
HAND HOLDING WHILE PASSING A NOTE OMG â„â„
the sky does exist! :o
the telescreen has some great music :D
winstonâs joining the âbig manâs hiking groupâ suure you are... ;)
the train is going to the beat of the kidsâ singing coolio! :D
big brother is called âbbâ yas bby!
YEEES THE I WANT YOU VALLEY SCEENE!!!!!
the lq audio made the twig crack and the leave brushing really weird lol
winston: âi want you.â I-CON-IC!!!! :D
THAT SMIRK THO
winston: âi want everyone corrupt.â julia: âiâll suit you, then. iâm corrupt to the core.â *mal screech*
OH NONONONOONO SHE GONNA TAKE HER TOP OFF BI PANIC BI PANICCC!!!!!
she really went commando huh
ALL THE WAY
the sex looks like it hurts NO WAY MAN NOT FOR ME NNNNOPE
iâm glad it was only a part you couldnât really see and not a full on thing I DONâT NEED THAT
awww sheâs so peaceful after big naughty :)
this is vaguely gay...
aww winstonâs hair ruffling in the wind â„
c r o n c h
also did he just cronch into a potato???
OMG THIS IS JUST LIKE SCHOOL
teacher: âwhen the orgasm is finally eradicated...â totally julia: âNOT ON MY WATCHâ
winston is the kid who smokes in glass while julia is the one kid who Just Doesnât Care lol :D
thoughtcrime THIS IS THOTCRIME
wow syme is still alive?
julia: âyou dropped your ink pencilâ you mean pen?
winnieâs back in prescott! :D
the room is 4 bucks a night noice B)
BACC TO THE H8 BBY
the modern say 2 minutes hate is probably just a livestream with kids texting âh8 xdâ in the chat lol :D
winstonâs thoughts: âshe who is so careful...â boi she threw a dictionary at the telescreen in the book THATâS SO NOT CAREFUL
hey girl CUTE LQ SMILE YOU HAVE THERE!!! :D
YAS THE REAL COFFEE SCENE!!!!! :D
she has so many smiles YAS!!!!
sheâs so eager with showing him I LOVE YOU SO MUCH JULES â„â„â„
she says âreal sugar, real breadâ and... jam
winston: âhow did you manage to get all this?â jules has her ways... ;)
winston: âi want youâ julia: âi want you tooâ YAS :D â„â„
the thiccc singer is here!! :D
sheâs so pretty! â„
aww the stroke â„
his hands are shaking as he touches her :(
winston: âfreedom is the freedom to say two plus two equals four. if that is granted, all else followsâ iconic!
YAS THE PAPER!!! :D
it be gin time ;)
he scratches the face off the gin bottle woah :o
I JUST REALIZED THAT THIS IS OâBRIEN :o
winstonâs little âyes!â at getting the 10th newspeak dictionary â„
thatâs a look of longing my friends! :o
winston: âthe call has come. all my life iâve been waiting for it...â and now heâll go into the unknown... ;)
AAND we cut to naked julia eating an apple! slight bi panic
sheâs touching the paperweight queen love it â„
SHE KNOWS THE CLEMENS YAS!!! :D
julia: âi just know it!â BOI YOUR G-PA HELPED OUT
winston: âthe only thing to do is to walk out of here before itâs too lateâ thus my âjulia livesâ au comes in! :D
winston: ânever seen one another againâ ...oh he was talking about that NOT IN MY AU SON
julia: âyou do, i do.â omg marriage :o
YAAAS JULSTON KISS!!!!!!! :D
fluffy! â„
julia: âi love you.â awww :)
winston: âjulia. do you think the resistance is real?â julia: ânone of itâs real.â STRAWBERRY FIELDS FOREVER!
â„
OMFG THERE WAS AN EXPLOSION :o
work is scrambling like eggs!
poor headache bby! :(
epic B)
winstonâs dreaming of his bishy selfish chocolate mom adventure!
the rats were there when his mom and sister were vaporized! :o
sheâs in the dress! â„
theyâre talking about betrayal and juliaâs like âthey canât do that!â OH BOI BUT THEY CAN!!!!
julia: âthey canât get to your heartâ aww :)
awkward...
winston sees oâbrien WITHOUT JULIA THE F????
this feels like the principalâs office lol :D
oâbrienâs voice is so deep and british â„
the way he clutches the newspeak dictionary is so cute! :D
aww heâs stroking the pages as he reads :)
the oceania anthem sounds russian :o
YAAAAAAAASSSS!!!!!!! :D
so soft â„â„
winston: âjulia, my love.â MY LOVE MY LOVE AHHH!!!! :D
YEES THE COFFEE SMILEEE!!!!! :D
sheâs hungry... she wants coffee... whoâs gonna tell her coffee isnât food?
omg i saw winston butt :o
:)
winston: âsheâs beautiful.â julia: âsheâs a meter around the hips easilyâ winston: âthatâs her standard of beauty.â YAAAS!!! :D
winston: âthe future is ours.â YAS
OH CRAP THEY SAID âWE ARE THE DEADâ NOOOO
mr. charington is loud compared to how i thought in the book
his âyou are the deadâ shouldâve been quieter like winston and juliaâs then he could be loud!
FBI OPEN UP!!!!!
charrington: âhere comes a candle to guide you to bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head!â OHHHH NICE ONE MR C!!!!!! :D
RIP TO A QUEEN :â(
i should be a bit more heartbroken BUT THAT MR C RHYME MAN
OMFG THEY JUST BEAT UP JULES
SHEâS IN SO MUCH PAIN NOOOO :â(
why does he look old
awww :(
delete the drunk old lady BUT GIVE US PARSONS SUUURE
i dread the scene to come...
parsons didnât say that he said âdown with big brotherâ so thatâs a bummer :/
aww poor parsons heâs crying! :(
oh SNAP room 101!!!! :o
poor parsons but at least that scene wasnât a thing!
OUCH THAT SMACC LOOKED LIKE IT HURT
is this leading into the bloody mouth scene? I STILL NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT IS
winston doesnât know where he is ITâS THE I WANT YOU VALLEY!!!
hold up this is just a vision ok BUT WHEREâS THE BLOODY MOUTH SCENE
frankenstein and spirit halloween called!
also oâbrien flipped the switch without warning BISH
oâbrien: âyou suffer from a defective memoryâ and you suffer from a BISH MEMORY SIR
remember winston itâs all in the mind... ;)
WHY DID OâBRIEN SHOCKÂ WINSTON HE SAID FIVE
'how many fingersâ is a trick question because winston sees four YET WE SEE FIVE OHHH
mother gothel vibes...
awww winstonâs little scared squeak :(
winston: âi donât know... i donât know!â SAY FIVE WINSTON SAY FIVEEEEE
oâbrienâs voice is so calming yet it spouts evil words...
julia immediately betrayed winston BECAUSE SHE HAD A ROSEMARY KENNEDY yet sheâs somehow still alive without damage by the end???
ooh a new shot! :D
they just faded to black and showed a new angle which is a bit weird...
oâbrien: âyouâre thinking that my face is old and tired...â because it belongs to poor richard burton!
oâbrien just yoinked winstonâs tooth out tho :o
mother gothel strikes again!
winston to oâbrien: âi love you.â you donât say that back to jules YET YOU SAY IT TO OâBRIEN BOIIIII
oâbrien: âyouâre one of us. one of the chosen.â one of us gooble gobble! also ANAKIN IS THAT YOU????
winston just said âi love youâ oMG OMG OM WAIT WWAIIITIT
AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D
seconds after she says âi love you tooâ SHEâS FREAKING SHOT DAAANG NO PUNCHES PULLED BACK!!!!!
aww he called her âmy loveâ even in a dream
so that was the infamous bloody mouth scene and it was quicker than i thought it would be? at least i have a bright julia smile! â„
OMG winstonâs calling for her yet it sounds so weird WHYYY
heâs much improved!
theyâre skyping lol
after all heâs been through he still hates bb! :o
ROOM 101 :o
room 101 is a personalized experience just for you! :D
also ITâS A DREAM MIRROR
omg the rats are GOING AT EACH OTHER GEEZ
winstonâs squeak at the rats no!!! :(
âdo it to juliaâ sounds a bit selfish but itâs the betrayal weâve been waiting for!
...NOT
uh oh here comes the awkward reunion...
they shouldâve said â...sup.â to each other
the bartender saying âon the house!â tiredly each time is great :D
winston: âthank you for coming.â julia in her thoughts: âyeah whateves bro.â :/
at least they can still bond over something :)
jules gin time ;)
they ratted out on each other true love???
julia: âwe must meet again.â winston: âyes, we must meet again.â ...they never met again
but if they did it would be a bro time!
winston: âi have seduced party members of both sexesâ BI NANI???? :o
since his crimes are like the guyâs from earlier... what if he didnât do them and was convinced that he did? :o
in the book he says i love you to bb, but here he turns away and says it... what if he still loves julia? :o
and with that question, the movie has come to a close! itâs a fantastic little film that closely follows the book. while i wouldâve liked to see julia with winston at oâbrienâs and the drunk jail lady, the cutting of the gross parsons scene, the addtion of the bloody mouth scene and the possibly hopeful ending make up for it. overall, this is an amazing adaptation of such a great book! :D
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Midnight Sun, Chapter 9 - Port Angeles
Right. I remember this chapter from Twilight. I also have heard quite a bit about this chapter. This is gonna be a ride.Â
Eddie starts off this chapter saying that he used to be the âresponsibleâ one. I would like to remind everyone that Edward Anthony Masen Cullen spent a few years eating people he percieved to be horrible criminals because he didnât like animal blood and was being a whiny baby. But go off, Eddie.
SM is still trying to paint Jessica as a rude bitch and I still donât buy it. It is extremely clear to anyone with eyeballs that Mike has a thing for Bella, and it is pretty obvious that this date heâs going on with Jessica is because Bella said no. So her thoughts come off as insecure. Sheâs a teenage girl, so I think insecure is a pretty standard thing. Not always, but SM has painted these kids as the stereotypical teens, so.
Basically, I still donât buy the attempt to make Jessica seem evil.
Bella has wandered off to go get that book she wanted, and Eddie is simply freaking out because he let his daughter out of his sight for one minute and she wandered off. Heâs about half a second away from considering getting a leash to put on her. Seriously, though, thatâs how this reads. A parent frantic because they lost their child in a crowded store or park. We all know sheâs gonna get a serious scolding for this one. Maybe even grounded.
a volly of snarls erupted from my throat
Okay, weâre still not to the big rant about vampire instincts in this universe, yet, but I want you guys to remember this for later. It absolutely aides in the point I plan to make there. Also a âvollyâ of snarls. That sounds so forced and I genuinely laughed out loud when I read it. Anyway, Eddie has found Bella and she is with the Evil Bad Guys Who Have Ill Intentions.Â
I would see how he enjoyed the hunt when he was the pray. I would see what he thought of my style of hunting.
Technically a spoiler because it hasnât happened yet in this book, but not because weâve seen it in Twilight. Eddie literally does not do anything to this Lanny guy or his friends. He gets out of the car, makes a mean face at them, and then gets back in the car and drives off. Maybe SM has Eddie go back out and hunt them later after he drops Bella off, but that doesnât fit in with his squeaky clean good boy persona that Daddy Carlisle puts on him, so I doubt it. The scene as we know it comes off as very âman, if my girlfriend wasnât here Iâd kick your assâ. Because Eddie is a lot of bloated, puffed up talk.
When SM uses dialogue tags like âorderedâ to describe how Eddie says things, it just really hammers home that point Iâve been making about red flags. Even if itâs practical, like him telling Bella to put on a seat belt, especially since Pires bend the will of cars to their inane and idotic physics.
We went on a tangent about one of Eddieâs kills from his Vampire Batman days, and like honestly? I watch a lot of Criminal Minds. I see a lot of this kind of stuff, and it is absolutely awful that people like that exist in the world. Iâm not saying that they shouldnât be stopped. HOWEVER, this idea Eddie has that he was playing a good guy by taking justice into his own hands, I donât jive with that. Now, I am aware of how faulty the criminal justice system is, especially with victims of sexual assault and domestic violence. Iâve lived that, myself. But if Eddie is so comfortable taking another life, no matter how he tries to justify it, he is no better than the people who heâs deciding to kill for their crimes.
a highly justifiable murder
See, this. This is why I donât buy that SMâs Cullens are the paragons of good that she is constantly trying to say they are. There is no such thing as a justifiable murder, no matter what. Solving heinous acts with heinous acts simply perpetuates a cycle of heinous acts.Â
I wasnât giving her a chance to say no.
This is a trend that will continue throughout the entire series. I will point you to all of the times that Edward never gave Bella a choice in a matter, including leaving her in New Moon, and DISMANTLING HER CAR ENGINE IN ECLIPSE SO THAT SHE COULDNâT GO SEE HER FRIEND. That one in particular rubs me the wrong way for reasons, but we wonât do that here. Just know that Edward never actually lets Bella make a choice in this series, and even when he pretends to, he does everything in his power to make the outcome go his way.
And now weâre at the restaruant. Iâve heard some stuff about this scene and god, can I not WAIT, but for now, letâs just talk about the one off waitress character. She is clearly only here to be a rival to Bella for this scene. Brief, unimportant, underdeveloped. And honestly? One off characters donât actually need that development, not really, but what I canât stand about this one is that she is literally only here, both in this book and in Twilight, so that SM can puff up how clearly Bella is so much better than she is. Because, you see, Eddie doesnât find the pretty hostess attractive, he only has eyes for Bella. Her entire point is so that Edward can look at Bella, and therefore, the audience as Bella is their SI for this world, and go on about how much better and prettier and more perfect she is than this woman. Itâs just gross.
âDo I dazzle you?â
This is still, in my personal opinion, the best and most iconic line in a series full of iconic lines. Eddie the Dazzle Machine. Charming the pants off people when heâs trying to scare the shit out of them. Itâs hilarious, and so fuckinâ romance novel cliche, and I love it.
This restaurant is apparently a real place in the real Port Angeles. And from what I understand, at least when the Twilight craze was in full swing back in 2008, they got a lot of extra business and a lot more people ordering the mushroom ravioli. Even put something about Twilight on their menu. Good for them, taking advantage of that free marketing. I have never been to Port Angeles, and am allergic to mushrooms, so I canât say Iâve experienced the dish, but if any of you have, please let me know if itâs worth the hype.
Its so funny that right now, Eddie is worried about Bella being cold and going into shock, while Bella is over there huffing the fumes off his jacket like itâs a paint can, and he canât even tell that thatâs what sheâs doing. The girl is doing everything short of just shoving her whole face in it and inhaling, but heâs too thick to get it.Â
And here we are folks. The meat and potatoes of this chapter. The big comparison. The reason the cover has a pomegranete on it. Edward Anthony Masen Cullen has the absolute GALL to compare Bella, the boring, walking video game avatar to Persephone. Lets break down Persephone for a second here. Thereâs a lot to break down, but letâs stick to the basics, for fear that this rant gets wickedly out of hand before I can stop it. Persephone radiates optimism and hope. Persephone is soft, sweet, but has a temper that could kill a man. Persephone is sympathetic. When in the ever loving FUCK has Isabella Swan ever shown any of those characteristics? She is NEVER optimistic about anything. She fucking exists in a constant cloud of negative thought and assuming the worst. She isnât hopeful about ANYTHING, not even her future with her PRECIOUS Eddie because sheâs always questioning his intentions and feelings for her. She is not sympathetic in the slightest, no matter what SM tries to shove down my throat. She treats her friends like shit, she manipulates and lies her way through conversations so she doesnât have to deal with them, she compares Mike to a FUCKING DOG. Bella is not comparable to Persephone, and itâs fucking beyond ham-fisted, itâs fucking EGREGIOUS to try to make that comparison.Â
I could see more of an argument for comparing Eddie to Hades, since, ya know, Hades fucking stole Persephone to be his wife and most stories about Hades paint him as kind of a moody, brooding dickbag, but Iâm still calling fucking foul on this attempt at comparison, SM. No dice.
Moving on.
Eddie describing Bellaâs skin as âvelvetyâ gives me war flashbacks to those grocery store checkout novels with Fabio on the cover that my mom used to read. Eghhh.
So, Bella touches Eddieâs hand and itâs described in a way that gives me very G-rated sex vibes. Which just makes me wanna tell them to get a room because theyâre in public right now, and also donât do that in front of Bellaâs salad ravioli.
Eddie is still being super controling and weird about Bella eating, and honestly, I super wish that Bella had had the good sense to get the hell out of there with Jess and Angela. Or that she would have the good sense now to excuse herself, find someone on staff, ask to borrow a phone, and call her dad. Because this guy is literally throwing out every red flag that exists. I know I say this a lot, but if Bella were a normal girl, she would not be charmed by this guy, she would be freaking creeped out and trying to get away from him. He isnât even subtle about his creep factor or charming enough to play it off.
Edward thinking he has any edge at all is like white bread thinking itâs the right kind of bread for a hamburger.
Anyway, chapter ends with Eddie paying the bill and the pair getting in the car to head home. And the drama chord of the last sentence thatâs supposed to play in your head when you read it falls flat. Theyâre on the way back to Forks and Eddie is chomping at the bit to hear Bellaâs latest theory that we know from Twilight isnât actually a theory so much as she heard a story from Jacob and then did some searching on some shitty Angelfire website. Or Geocities. Either way. And then she just went ahead and had a big old prophetic dream about it.Â
Next time, we get the awkward car ride home and more. Thanks for hanging around guys. As always, feel free to message me (though, please note to anyone who has sent me anon messages that are rude or angry because Iâm making fun of this book, Iâm gonna ignore you.), recommend what books I should put on my list for my next recap series, and feel free to buy me a snack using the CashApp tag in my bio.
See you next time, babes.
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