#tr receipt

[twopoppies]

Venice anon back with the second update in a row in our “Taylor Russell is rude as fuck” saga. So today I was waiting for the elevators at the Hotel Excelsior, which is the fancy one where all the action is. There’s a couple more people waiting and then TR shows up with a woman and they’re waiting as well. One elevator opens up and a woman who was waiting gets in. The doors closed then open again because I assume the woman had noticed TR and her friend waiting right in front of the elevator so she had opened them again and, very politely, asked if they needed to get on. TR looked at her and went “No?!” with the snarkiest, most condescending look ever. Picture Regina George. I guess the woman was going up and they were going down. When the doors closed again, she turned to her friend and went something like “you would think they’d be used to seeing actors in a place like this”, or something along those lines. I guess she thought that the woman had seen her and recognized her and wanted to, I dunno, have the honor of sharing an elevator with her? The funny thing is that shortly thereafter I ran into that woman in the toilets and commented that Taylor Russell had not been the nicest to her, and she went huh? She said she didn’t even recognize her. Hope this is the last update on this!! Xx

Yuck.

It's odd that we got very little of this kind of info while they were "dating." Maybe she was on her best behavior. Or their “breakup” is tormenting her. 🙄

Earlier anons about TR here and here

[onewingedangels]

no offense but I've yet to see an "annoying" tr reboot stan that tr classic stans keep imagining to fight every day 😐

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

The Yandere Student Council 

You just needed to get your schedule officialized. Having gained special permissions to take a desired course you needed the student council’s collective stamps of approval to proceed. Normally all you would need to do was slip in the necessary documents. But something seems to keep happening to yours and it just works better for you to do it in person. Thus begins you’re journey of getting the obsessed student council’s approval.

The first one you go to is the one with the easiest access –the Secretary. Gill Hunter has an absolute poker face when his boyfriend isn’t around. So you’re pleasantly surprised when he’s actually willing to hear you out. Keeping his amber eyes on you he listens to your plea for his stamp, seemingly not reacting at all he promises to help you—for a price. You have to step in for him and his boyfriend from time to time. He says it's just a week as he demands you shadow him for the day. Calling to you in his monotone voice to join him in the student council lounge. Don’t bother bringing up you’re friends or your desire to eat your lunch alone. Even as the week comes to an end and you get your stamp he has you working closely with both him and his boyfriend very closely as an honorary assistant.

“Most if not all schedules go through me, you don’t want your schedule being messed up again. Do you?”

The next one is Gill’s beloved–the Historian. June Frimroar is a different kind of person you need to get a stamp from. Where Gill strings you along with his stone-cold face and hardly hidden intentions, June will do the exact opposite. With a smile that flirts with scheming and altruism, he’ll ask for the most innocent kind of help. Only to somehow become something far more intimate and demanding of you in the first place. How else would simply taking notes during student council meetings lead to you smushed in a locker with the historian and his boyfriend? Or how you’ll be forced to help undress June whose hands inexplicably might be sprained? He’s an enigma to loosely associate with trouble, easily put off by how kind he is to you and your friends as you start spending more time with him and the rest of the student council. Certainly, those rumors of him crippling classmates for fun are far from true, right?

“Don’t you trust me, (Y/n)? Just listen to me and I’m sure everything will work out…even if that blackmail situation with your friend is completely separate.”

Like clockwork, you fall into being the student council’s lackey suddenly trusted with helping the seemingly overwhelmed Treasurer. Min Su is an odd fellow who’s been dignified a living legend with his accounting possibilities; rumored to casually be hired by the government a couple of times. So it's odd that he suddenly must have you spending your club hours documenting receipts. He’s so apologetic and jumpy that you don’t feel right questioning him. So it's normal that he has a fierce blush on his face as you take the records from his hand. Or the little noises of excitement pleasure he seems to have when you lean over him to admire his speed as he’s calculating the books. He’s likely to forget that you needed to get his stamp until you off-handedly mention how you’re going to miss him when you get that stamp.

“Oh, you wanted that? I-I’m happy to give it to you, n-no problem! But you’ll still visit me right?”

At this point, your presence is much more normalized in the student council quarters, and naturally, the Sergeant of Arms or more well known as the student council’s hype man is happy to welcome you. Popular beyond belief Roman Ferris arguably has the largest fan and friend base in the entire council. Knowing everything about everyone he already knows what you’re asking for and he’s cheekily telling you he’s already prepared how you’re going to get it. If you thought Gill was forward then you’d be mistaken Roman straight-up demands every weekend that you come with him on a date. Movies, restaurants, ice cream, trips to the park, he’s doing it all with you. Demanding you dress up for these ‘definitely not dates’, hold his hand while you walk, and smile at him only him when you pose for the camera. It's odd how he knows your every like and dislike, always ordering for you and smiling ominously when you ask. But he’s definitely not giving you this stamp if you suddenly stop coming to his dates hangouts, even if he promised he would. It’d be bad if the whole student body considered you a harlot for playing with the golden boy’s feelings. So just smile while you eat your favorites and keep your mouth sealed about your suspicions.

“Don’t worry about it babe, I already know just how you like it! Don’t worry how I know~ You’re so cute when you're well-fed!”

Practically cemented to your unwritten obligation the Vice President is well aware of what you’re after. Spencer Lyle will wait until the end of the day mindlessly stamping your document as he scrambles through his hefty pile of paperwork. Bags under his eyes and his lids dropping dangerously you figure you’ll help him, already familiar with the kind of work he was doing anyway. He thanks you when you eventually wake him up and from then on something sinister a friendship is born. Suddenly he’s coming up to you in your classes, during lunches keeping you talking casually as he leads you to the student council room. You were going there anyway, right? He’s just the perfect friend for you. Great at warding off bullying fans or teachers that get a little too snippy, he becomes your go-to friend. Not too popular but well-respected feared by the student body; totally perfect for relying on him to be relatable. Completely complacent with letting him into your life and it feels so normal now that he rings your dorm bell for an early morning. You know him so well so it's natural he does the same.

“Hey, you ready to go cupcake? Bags under my eyes? Yeah, I was up all night protecting you doing council stuff, you know how I work.”

Last but certainly not least the Student Council President: Lucoa Grander the college’s prodigy cryptid. Known to be a living genius and prominent underground business personality it seems only natural that he gets such a powerful, prestigious position. He is such a celebrity you go to Spencer to deliver your schedule confirmation only to receive a disappointing answer. Apparently, the president’s only willing to stamp yours personally, and thus your witchhunt for the illusive president begins. Searching high and low, stringing on his fan base’s own timeline and the other council members’ accounts you try to find him. But after a while, you give up fully prepared to abandon your desired course to have the blue-haired pierced-up president mysteriously showing up. He greets you so casually, sitting next to you as he asks mundane questions. When you finally ask for his stamp he gives it to you…on a major condition. 

“We’ve been looking to widen our ranks and I’ve we’ve been keeping a close eye on you. And we’re thinking of making you an honorary member–it's a new position to diversify our team. You’ll get your stamp this way and we get you our beloved a new member that’s fair enough isn’t it?”

[sunstonez]

FUNDRAISING BILLS AND GROCERIES

Hello my name is Valentine. I am a physically disabled, visibly autistic nonbinary lesbian. I really need help with paying my bills this month.

I have spent the last two years going through Canadian provincial courts to put my pedophile biological father in jail. I have succeeded and his sentencing date is set for mid June, but this has come with a huge financial cost to me. I had to go on long term disability leave due to the stress. I had to pay for travel between provinces over several years. I have been living off of 60% of my income while I am on leave from work, supporting not only myself but my spouse as well, a disabled trans woman. I have maxed out our credit card, and have several thousand dollars owed in a consumer proposal.

I was supposed to return to work in May (which would have added to our monthly income), but my employer literally forgot I was disabled, and did not properly prepare for me to return to work, delaying my return until July.

Right now are behind on our phone bill, power bill, and internet bill. The consumer proposal payment is coming up on the 16th. Not to mention the cost of groceries, laundry money, bus tickets, medication, etc.

My goal is to raise $650.00 CAD.

Pictured below are the outstanding bills. $97.29 for the phone bill, $216.11 for our power, and $201. 59 for the internet.

The remaining amount of 135.00 would go towards groceries, laundry money, bus fair, etc.

If you have questions please feel free to DM me or comment here. I can provide receipts and other documentation as proof.

Updates will be provided in the replies of this post.

P*yp*l: p*ypal.me/hepelva

E-tr*nsfer (if you're Canadian): salsamanders@gmail.com

Thanks so much for reading. If you can't help that's okay! Reblogs are beyond appreciated 🙏💕

[caramelarr0w055]

SPOP edits

guys i decided i'm gonna do edits like this:

i started with the anti C*tr* and anti C//A but maybe later i will do glimmadora and adonnie/lonnadora edits. Also i get inspired buy this edits on pinterest:

Guys, i wan't to let you know that my account is also a safe place for anti C*tr* and anti C//A and you can critic the show, the ship and everything you have on mind. Also daily remind that please follow my " anti c*tr* and c*tradora " friends, they deserve so much support :3

follow and support : @spopsalt , @spop-romanticizes-abuse , @anti-spop , @anti-catradora-collection , @anti-catradora-receipts , @my-nitpicking-self , @blonde-and-cat-suc and @catra-slander-club

Guys, you can request me if you wan't i made an anti C*tr*// C*tradora edit or a glimmadora// adonnie, lonnadora edit :3

[clairehadenough]

Ugh….you and your receipts all day every day 😩

Why are you devoting time and energy, writing paragraphs long dissertations to convince a bunch of "delulus?"

You and you're little friends are the ones who are "scared shitless". No one secure in the truth would try so hard to convince people who they have deemed insignificant.

I predict nothing but disaster and tragedy for everyone connected to this travesty of an idea.

#Maddy #Capoteera #Lonesome #Claire #TouchGrass #DrHiddles #Chris #Abba #Justin #Joana #Bryan #Jamie #Scott

LooooooL, just found this😂

Do you really think, like really really think, that our blogs are created to “convince” the delulus and hope that they’d change their minds?

Oh honey😂😂

I couldn’t give a fuck if any of those very disturbing blogs are convinced or not. In fact I’d like them to stay where they are, I would feel very weird having them on my side lol.

I’ll explain to you like you’re 5, because I doubt your brain has developed further anyway. It’s gonna be long though so I’m not sure if you can read this much. Just do your best, ok? ☺️

I’ve said this from the very beginning. Those blogs with their jealousy and complete unawareness of reality, have fucked up this fandom. What was once a fun place to be has become a dumpster where they throw their shitty theories and ideas. The fandom is already ruined. By them. That’s why some don’t bother anymore. They’re still Chris’ fans but would rather just follow from a distance now, instead of being his fans on apps like this very one.

I, on the other hand, hate it when idiots are given too much freedom without anyone humbling them. Enter my blog. You say lies? I show everyone who sees them that you’re lying and why. You make up accusations? I show everyone who hears them why they are wrong. Always with receipts, always with proofs. So do most of the other sane blogs on here.

We don’t expect the big delulus to change their mind, nor do we want them to😂 We’ve seen enough of the other fandoms to know that those we have here haven’t reached the worst level yet.

No. Our blogs are here

1) not to let idiots spread their crap without anyone showing they’re wrong. Imagine if Tr*mp’s lies in rallies or tweets were never exposed. That would be the same, albeit on a much smaller scale and in a much less impactful environment.

2) to give very gullible people the chance to see things how they really are and give them the opportunity to use their brains. Don’t you see how people get insulted when they ask questions on those blogs? They are not allowed to use logic because then the crazies’ theories wouldn’t be believable if they did.

We’ve had lots of people coming to us from “the other side” telling us they can see how gullible they were. We have daily anons full of hate and l anger from the crazies showing how much our blogs are annoying them. And these two facts are enough proof for us that our blogs are succeeding in what they were created for.

The delulus could keep believing whatever they want for however long they want. Nobody gives a single flying fuck. Our blogs were never for them anyway 😂

I’m not sure you read all this because it clearly shows from your ask that reading is not your forte.

But might as well let the other haters know too so they don’t bother send me the same sad anons asking about the same thing again😉

[laf-outloud]

Just because this is being discussed and I like to have the receipts for the inevitable stuff the antis will say:

https://www.instagram.com/stories/stepharcila/

It looks like around 10/11 pm est Stephanie from FC posted this story about a FC location. Not that it means it was happening at that time, but it does seem like FC was shooting later last night, probably around the time of the call. Some antis have been saying he supports tr*mp simply because he wasn't on the call, some say he was purposely excluded (because "haha everyone hates Jared" the usual), etc. and on and on - but he was more than likely filming (which very easily could have happened to JA too since we know he's done some night shoots recently).

Even if Jared wasn't filming, there's no reason for him to attend. Jared's rarely vocal about specific candidates. His politics are demonstrated through his actions, and anyone refusing to see his support for the LGBTQ+ community or his support of women's rights is willfully turning a blind eye.

It's certainly more than I can say for someone else who seems to be minimal talk and no action.

[saturninemartial]

I'm a casual listener. Why does everyone hate Panic? Or rather Urie?

I was an OG fan back in 2005/06 but tapped out after the second album, so I wasn't fully aware of all the drama, so I had to look some of it up.

P!ATD was started by childhood friends Ryan Ross and Spencer Smith; Urie wasn't invited until later. The original lineup was rounded out with bassist Brent Wilson, although he was later replaced by Jon Walker. It was Smith, Ross, Urie, and Wilson on their first album; and Smith, Ross, Urie, and Walker on their second. In 2009, Ross and Walker decided to leave the band, mostly on creative differences with Urie. So there goes one founding member, Ross, and another core member, Walker.

Dallon Weekes, whom you might know from IDKHOW, joined as bassist after this; with Ian Crawford on guitar. Smith, Urie, Weekes, and Crawford recorded and released an album in 2011. During the recording, Crawford left bc he wanted to create "real, genuine music."

Smith, Urie, and Weekes recorded another album that was released in 2013 and soon went on tour. Smith left for a bit for addiction reasons; and in 2014, Urie said it didn't look like Smith was coming back; and in 2015, Smith confirmed he wasn't coming back. So Ross and Smith, the original two creators of the band, are now gone; and Urie is the only one left from the original lineup.

In 2017, Weekes announced he was leaving so he could focus on his own band, IDKHOW. That's the final "replacement" member, and from then on, it's just Urie. Since then, Urie has used the Panic! name for what is essentially a solo career, creating music that is so far gone from the original vision and slapping someone else's name on it. The creators of Panic!, Smith and Ross, left a long long time ago, and Urie has essentially acted like nothing happened and hasn't really given them credit. It's been the Brendon Urie Show for ages; more than one person left because of creative differences with him specifically. The Panic! name was never his to use yet he kept on using it, I guess for clout?

Then we get into the allegations against Urie. I'm on mobile and at work so I don't really have time to add receipts, but googling Brendon Urie allegations will bring up a ton of links. Basically, there are allegations of him sexually abusing fans, possibly minors. He's also publicly made some nasty rape jokes, and used the word tr*nny. I think I'm just scraping the surface here.

Overall he's an intensely unpleasant person who's been happily profiting off someone else's concept and name without credit for years. He's used Panic! as a vanity project, and the shit he's put out isn't even good.

[louisisalarrie]

Due to the large amount of debating on Twitter around stunts and forcible closeting and who gains what from the partnership, let’s talk about stunts as someone who works in the industry and has a degree in this shit, baby!!!

Okie dokie. Stunts are just about our least favourite thing in this fandom, and we watch the boys get exploited, used, and see that they are thoroughly and visibly upset during pap shots and any public event with said stunt. I will be touching on bbg here, as a warning. But this will look particularly at Harry’s stunts, a bit more than Louis’, because people seem to all be fighting about Harry and TR at the moment, and there have been a lot of nasty things said between solos and larries and yeah… let’s have a chat about this all, so you folks can have a little more context of behind the scenes, and also a more thorough understanding than just “that stunt gf is using him for his fame and is part of the problem by forcibly closeting that artist”. Sooooo yeah, let’s get into it. I’ll break this down by Harry/Louis, and we can have a good look into this together. Feel free to hit me up in my inbox for any questions/comments etc., my loves. A lot of this stuff you might already be aware of, but yeah. Just thought I’d do something a bit more in depth while all this discourse is happening.

Harry - a brief history of stunts/his image, and why TR is his beard right now

So, we are all certainly aware of Harry’s past, with everyone from Caroline Flack, to Taylor Swift, to Kendall Jenner… the list goes on and on. His image was doctored to fit the ideal womaniser - sweet and funny, but flirty and cocky. If he was marketed as a dick, no one would idealise him, obviously. So he was allowed to be himself, as the sweet boy we all know, with the exception of flirting with every woman that breathes, and bedding them immediately, before moving on. He was still desirable like this. He was still seen as somewhat attainable, because he was never tied down. He didn’t do long term, he did one night stands and would keep women around long enough until the next pretty little (famous) thing came along. They wanted him to be seen as a sexual being, as so many young male boy bands are full of “goody two shoes” and are little happy cherubs who sing about what makes you beautiful, not waking up with a hard on.

So, his image flowed with the times. They seeded that baby as a womaniser, so when the band got older, he could be seen with multiple stunts, and be even more attainable than someone with a long term partner (Louis) because he didn’t fall in love. He was sex, and rock n roll, while playing innocent as well. It was a different twist to your usual “bad boy” narrative… the young girls saw him as a beautiful sweet angel, and the older girls thought they had a chance to have sex with him (multiple “receipts” that said Harry asked for numbers from fans and took them backstage after shows also posted on Tumblr/Twitter which the older fans had accounts on). They covered the very wide demographic that one direction had with this image, while keeping him closeted. S*mon always thought he was gonna be the main boy, so why not do whatever they can to give him even more PR? Two birds one stone, right?

Anyway, stunting is, and always has been, a crucial part of PR. The general public, and fans, are always interested to know the love life of celebrities. It causes drama, and gossip, and pays for the families of Paps, journalists, interviewers, etc. ya know? These folks would have a pretty boring job if they couldn’t spread gossip. They get paid more to do so, so it’s just the circle of life in the music industry. Almost all the jobs around an artist are there because of stunts. There’s only so many times a reporter can comment on what Harry is wearing if he’s not seen with someone else.

Anyway, this day and age, stunts have become pretty see through. We can spot one a mile away, anticipate articles, and guess what’s coming next. It’s embarrassing really. But, in the earlier days of stunts, it used to be a mutually beneficial agreement. Celebrity A “dates” and is spotted with Celebrity B, who both have large fandoms and make a lot of money (HS and TS). So, being seen together makes sense. A power couple, if you will. Two of the biggest stars on the planet, joining forces, exposing their already established fandoms to the other person’s music, and both of them gaining more followers, more money, and more clicks in the media. It’s the same with the OW shit show that happened… however, that was marketed as a 2 year long stunt, his longest yet, and was obviously to promo the movie. But, being his longest public relationship as of yet, they kinda dragged him away from the womaniser image a bit. Makes sense, right? He’s getting older, settling down a bit… he’s becoming a professional, not fucking the fans of his boyband backstage, and sleeping with every hot celebrity he sees.

However, because of a lot of these stunts are now being exposed and superficial af, they have tried a different kind of stunt, that, while we’ve seen before in different “womanising” artists, they do this to boost a positive image of the artist in question, and move them away from their… multiple sexual escapades. This is what I like to call the “Girl Next Door” stunt, which is exactly where Harry is at now, and where Louis has been all throughout his stunts.

The Girl Next Door stunt shows the public “oh wow, he’s not superficial!!! He’ll date someone who isn’t super famous and he loves them for them!!! He isn’t using her!! He’s attainable and would date someone like me because I’m not super famous!!!” narrative. Which, for Harry, pulls his image back towards being more “real” and authentic, and, for the fans, causes them to defend him because of this. They don’t see it as an obvious stunt because why the hell would this be mutually beneficial for Harry? Why would he bother to continue agreeing to closet himself with someone who isn’t gonna give him any PR from their own fandom? Who the paps are gonna wonder who she is? Well… it’s because he’s a sweetie pie baby boy cherub angel who doesn’t care about fame and fortune, just treats people with kindness and has fallen in love with someone who wasn’t really in the public eye to begin with. Wow. What an incredible guy.

And while you may say “hang on, TR wasn’t totally unknown, she had a following”, her following was nothing compared to Harry’s before they got together. So, with the above in mind about how this positively boosts Harry’s image, you can see why this is mutually beneficial. It’s not always about the money for both sides.

But… hang on… “why would TR agree to this? She’s actively participating in the closeting of Harry? She’s not a good person!!!!!” Well… if it wasn’t her, it’d be someone else. If every celeb/person boycotted the idea of stunts and refused them due to the fact they didn’t want to closet artists, that would be great. It would be a massive shift in the industry. It would be fantastic. But… that’s just not the way it is right now. And unfortunately I don’t think it ever will be.

Closeting has existed for years in the celeb world, and it’s not just gonna go away like that. Sometimes the artists get to choose who they stunt with, and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes bisexuality is seeded juuuuuust enough to get people talking even more. But in his case right now, that’s why people are relating to TR. that’s why they’re defending her, and that’s why they’re a good stunt for now, because she’s the girl next door. See that image shift, now?

Louis - bbg, long term gfs, and the Girl Next Door

Now that I’ve explained the idea of the Girl Next Door stunt (which I’m sure a lot of you have picked up on already prior to this post), that’s exactly what Louis’ closeting and stunting has been for the past 13 years. Eleanor was an unknown, young pretty girl aspiring to be a model. They had one womaniser in the band, two would just be sleazy, so why not make him somewhat “unattainable” but still show his love and commitment and as he was the oldest of the band, he took relationships seriously? It makes him look grown up, so people can take the band more seriously. They’re not just 5 boys who are fucking everything that moved due to newfound fame. It would keep Louis closeted, keep Harry closeted but in the public eye at all times, and totally remove any possibility of them being in a relationship behind closed doors. Sounds great on paper, right? So… if Louis was the sweet, funny, long term gf boy… then why did he go out and get drunk and fuck some unknown hairdresser in a one night stand and have a baby with her, and it be so public? Let’s have a quick look…

For obvious closeting reasons, someone who is speculated to be gay having a baby is quite a clear cut. They’ve had vaginal penetrative sex, they can’t be gay… right? Bisexuality is often overlooked in the media, but, that’s a story for another time.

So, bbg makes sense. They were seeding Harry’s bisexuality/coming out over mid 2014-2015 buttttt little problem… if Harry was in fact into men, then why couldn’t he be into Louis? Larry Stylinson is no stranger to the press, and to pay off every outlet to include in their article the previous denials of Larry’s relationship in the coming out articles, was more effort than what it’s worth. So, even giving him a male stunt, larry would still be prominent in all press relating to Harry’s sexuality. So, in the plans of Harry’s (not successful) coming out, what do they do with Louis?

Long term gf man Louis became quite the party boy, and slept around with Girl Next Door types. People who weren’t famous. People who weren’t gonna help his career after one direction, nor boost his popularity and exposure. He was almost attainable to fans, as so many fans have met him at clubs before. But Harry needed to be THE one who ended up on top (no pun intended), and THE extra attainable now openly bisexual man. They just had to stop Louis from being a desirable match to pretty princess harry, and kinda pushed him to take over Harry’s womaniser image. So, what better way than to push him into being a grotty undesirable party boy who was getting fucked up and sleeping with random girls? What better way than to make him be extra closeted with a kid whose mum he’d had a one night stand with? It could’ve been any fan… right? Quite the Y/N wattpad story if you ask me…

(Anywho, this isn’t a bbg post so I won’t go into S*mon vs Louis, the big gay war, Belfast etc., I’m just talking plainly about the images to the public eye).

So, bbg sticks and is set for the long term, and so Louis still has the committed image he always did. He’s always been tied down, except… he can’t go from party boy to doting dad in one breath. So a couple of VERY short lived stunts here (including one he did by himself in protest) and there, keeps him attainable. He cares SO much about his little lad, BUT is on the look out for some lady bits at all times. Funnily enough, with women who aren’t going to actively improve his career/popularity. So… Girl Next Door attainability, long term commitment grown up responsibility, and now, stunt free (apart from bbg) for over a year. Party boy louis lives on, though. And that is certainly an interesting deep dive as to why, but again, for another time.

Overall - why the fuck is this all happening?

So, they’ve pushed Harry and Louis as far apart from each other as possible, since 2015. Their images, everything. We know this, we’ve watched it, some of us have been here for it. But why is Harry now Girl Next Door stunting? It’ll be a year of them together in a few months. It’s arguably his first stunt gf who is not popular or influential in any way. Well… his image now is happy go lucky boy who loves everyone and is sweet as pie and while he still has suggestive lyrics and moves on stage, he’s actively been pushed away further from the womaniser image through OW and TR. I believe, since he has shot to fame, they’ve decided to kick him back down and seem more attainable, with a more “realistic and authentic” stunt. It makes him look like a real person again. Obviously, it’s forced closeting and you can plainly see it makes him upset and he’s doing everything he can to move away from it, but… that’s his image for now. They’re moving away from womanising because he’s older and needs to still look attainable and professional and “grown up” (30 yrs old isn’t grown up by any means, but it’s the ageism in the industry and generally around the world that pushes this), and so this is the purpose of TR. now, you can sit here and yell about her being an active part in his closeting, which she is, but if it wasn’t her, it would be someone else. Solo Harries who believe in them being together, would be stanning another chick if she was in TR’s place. It’s a Copy of a Copy of a Copy. Get mad at the teams behind Harry and Louis, not at the girls participating in it. (BBG is somewhat of an exception bc who tf would actively put a baby through that but whatever, the promise of money can sway people like crazy).

In short, Long-Term Tomlinson and Harry Sly-les are still in full force, but in an adjusted way to seem more authentic. Because in this day and age, where everything is fake, authenticity sells.

[justenjoythegossip]

Immigration questions, truths, lies and speculation: a few random thoughts…

Use of her immigration status to discredit the wedding…

Abba’s legal status is a topic that has been brought up so much by Team PR blogs, especially to discredit the fact there was any marriage at all, that it’s interesting to ask ourselves why. Although I won’t pretend to answer any of those questions. I know absolutely nothing about her legal status but I am pretty sure that neither do those mods that pretend to. Unless they have a source or informant at the immigration bureau, but I seriously doubt it. 

Truths, lies and speculation…

I’ll do my best to sum up what have been said on the subject. Allegedly Abba has used a tourist Visa to enter the US, that’s why she goes back to Portugal very often and is never seen in the USA. She couldn’t have a work visa because she is not shooting any movie or TV show on US domestic soil. She couldn't have an Einstein Visa because she has no talent. She couldn’t have petitioned for a fiancée visa neither because she would have had to stay put and wait a few years for her citizenship and so traveling abroad for her second kinda wedding would have been out of the question. Also they added that this information was on the public record.

There’s some truths (like always), some wild speculation and some clear lies. 

First of all, someone’s immigration status is not really public information. Sure there is a number you can call to check an immigration status but you do need some personal information like name, date and place of birth which are easy to find for sure but also… a 13-character receipt number from your application or petition. She did share a shower porn with the world, but I don’t think she ever volunteered information regarding her travel documents or petition. So how would people know anything regarding her legal situation? 

Where has she been?

An important topic of discussion has been about her whereabouts. Interesting enough, that girl has been mostly MIA for the last couple of years. Has she been hiding in a basement or is she a ghost? We know she sort of pops out for certain events used for PR purposes (papwalks, a fashion show, the ghosted premiere, the GQ event) but she was not even seen for their alleged first wedding, nor for their alleged second wedding.  

Also interesting, she deactivated her location on Instagram a while ago so that no one could actually know where she is. The last time it was active was when she was shooting a movie with Anne Hathaway in Germany. It’s safe to assume that she doesn’t want people to know where she is because this way, she can be placed anywhere… anywhere where Chris is of course. 

What could her legal status be?

A dual citizenship is unlikely, for sure. She wasn’t born in the US and although we know she has a sister who lives there (and maybe she even has other family relatives who knows), she would have had to reside in the states for years to get it. 

But is a work visa out of the question? Of course, she hasn’t and is not shooting anything on US soil. But if there is a PR contract, doesn’t PR work qualify as… work? There are the papwalks of course, but also all the trips she had to take in order for them to shoot the material they needed (pictures and videos used for ridiculous cringy photo montages that were posted on Instagram stories). CAA (or another entity) could have very well sponsored her for a work visa and have her do all kind of stuff. We know how powerful this company is, how shady it is and how much pull it has. It is out of the realm of possibilities? 

And guess what, you can travel abroad under a work visa for business purposes (to shoot a movie in Germany for ex) or for a vacation (to the Bermuda for ex), you just need to have your travel permit approved. 

I am not saying she has a work visa btw, just that it’s possible and that there is no actual proof to say otherwise. It’s pure speculation. Like those mods are doing and passing for actual truth. 

I will add that I once asked one of those so-called Team PR blog for some precisions about this topic. It was someone I had very cordial talks with (I even provided them with material they used for their blog). They never answered those questions of course. Sidenote they blocked me after my pinned post defining who those blogs are and what they were doing without ever naming anyone and when they had never followed me in the first place. Make of that what you will. 

The (apparent) absence of marriage license and the fiancée visa?

A marriage license is actually a lot easier to find though because the public records are a lot simpler to access. Of course, there are a few exceptions, if you filed in California for example (but not realistic in their case) or if you filed a special request in front of a judge to have the records sealed. Up until now, no one has found their marriage license. 

No publication (no TMZ, not anyone) published it when we had trillion articles about their wedding but no confirmation from either of their teams for more than a month… until Chris’ appearance at the NY con. Also we can assume that a license would have probably popped out on one Team Real blog if such proof existed (faking a yoga certificate is one thing but faking such documents would be a federal offense).

By the way, Chris told us that he and Abba are NOT legally married. The words he used at that Con were so very specific: "kinda ceremonies". KINDA... Go Portugal! So he definitely put an asterisk to the marriage narrative. And I should add that no rep confirmed their marriage, another confirmation of their non-marriage.

But then again you could speculate that they had a kinda sorta spiritual Buddhist non-binding ceremony. I think team real blogs have supported this theory at some point if anyone wants to believe it. But in that case, if she wouldn’t petition for a dual citizenship and stay in the USA with her work visa, she wouldn’t face legal issues and she could pop in and out of the country with her approved travel permit. 

Again I am not saying it’s the truth, just that those immigration questions are very complex and are very unlikely to shed any light on that shitshow. 

Why use speculation (or even a blatant lie) to discredit another lie?

The question remains. Why would you need to bring up this topic to discredit a wedding when actual facts don’t add up? Some mods have done a fantastic job pointing them out. 

What purpose do those alleged immigration issues serve? Do they discredit Team PR blogs? Do they serve as an actual diversion? Because one thing is certain we don’t need those to question their kinda ceremonies, do we? 

[twopoppies]

Hello...we've chatted before through messages. I work at THE pub. I wanted to share something that happened about a month ago. The latest ex-gf came into the pub with a woman that turned out to be her mum. Apparently she's moved into a rental up the road from the pub. The day they came in..the person I told you was living temporarily in HS's house also popped in. He attempted to introduce himself to her and she was incredibly rude and completely dismissive of him. He walked away from the situation and had a few choice words when he came back to the bar that I don't want to discuss publicly but I think he was puzzled that Harry would be associated with someone like her. I felt awful for him as he's such a genuine lovely person. I saw the anon about her at that film festival and thought...that lines up with this incident and thought I'd share this.

Hello! I’ve been thinking about you lately. Thanks for coming back. This info, coming on the heels of what the Venice Film Festival anon said, is pretty depressing. It really does line up.

I really sad that she’d treat him that way—he does truly seem like such a nice, genuine person. I hate that Harry is connected to people who act so rude and snotty. It’s such a bad look for him.

[carriesthewind]

two excerpts from the June 22 order re sanctions - the SALT on this judge!! 😂

PS your recounting of this case has been so so well done and entertaining, thank you for sharing!

Image Id from the ask below the read more. :)

Thank you! And yes, that section is so funny and painful (in a good way).

[Image ID from ask: two screenshot of a court order. The first reads, "MR. SCHWARTZ: Correct. It became my last resort. So I guess that’s correct.

(Tr. 37-38.) Mr. Schwartz’s statement in his May 25 affidavit that ChatGPT “supplemented” his research was a misleading attempt to mitigate his actions by creating the false impression that he had done other, meaningful research on the issue and did not rely exclusive on an AI chatbot, when, in truth and in fact, it was the only source of his substantive arguments. [footnote 12] These misleading statements support the Court’s finding of subjective bad faith.

Following receipt of the April 25 Affirmation, the Court issued an Order" [ends mid-sentence]

The second screenshot includes a few lines of text, and then shows footnote 12. The text above the footnote reads, [beginning mid-sentence] "Order to Show Cause of May 4, he “still could not fathom that ChatGPT could produce multiple fictitious cases . . . .” (Schwartz June 6 Decl. ¶ 30.) He states that when he read the Order of May 4, “I realized that I must have made a serious error and that there must be a major flaw with" [end mid-sentence]

Footnote 12 reads, "Cf. Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, 79 (Puffin Books ed. 2015) (1865): “Take some more tea,” the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly. “I’ve had nothing yet,” Alice replied in an offended tone, “so I can’t take more.” “You mean you can’t take less,” said the Hatter: “it’s very easy to take more than nothing.”]

[yokohamabeans]

Chapter 5: cowherd and weaver

We know how the story ends: in all versions of it, the crane leaves her lover in tears.

(In which: Kakuchō meets you at his worst. Eight years later, you meet him at yours.)

Pairings: Kakuchō x F!OC/Reader (ft. Haitani Ran x F!OC/Reader)

Series Tags / TW & CW / Notes: Dark/Mature Themes, Bonten!Timeline (or rather, pre-Bonten / Rise of Bonten Era), TR Manga Spoilers, Angst & Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Organized Crime, Blood & Violence, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Japanese Culture, OC will have a name but this will largely be written in 2nd POV, Character Study, Hostessing & Forced Prostitution, etc.

(WC: ~7.5k)

Series Index | Read on AO3 here!

The summer heat peaks with each passing day. There’s a sheen of sweat on your skin and you worry that even with the air-conditioning turned all the way up, this junky old van will not get any cooler. Discomfort you can bear with, but not the risk of Pierre suffering a heat stroke. His panting is becoming rather noisy and short-nosed dogs like him run hot easily—though perhaps his loud heaving ought to be pinned on the excitement of riding shotgun, watching other cars and buildings and people whiz by. You give his soft, floppy ears a fond rub and ask him to relax.

You never wanted Pierre. But like a seed he’d been blown in by the wind, and you just couldn’t bring the axe down on this sprout that had taken root in your life. He was a gift from a customer: Yamamoto-san had asked to meet at a café and, to your surprise and horror, pulled a puppy by its scruff out from a bag. It was the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen—it had a face that caved into its massive head at the nose and bulbous eyes that were set so far apart it couldn’t even look straight. Girls love cute pets, right? How Yamamoto–san thought he could win your affections by dumping such a burden on you is still a mystery till this day. Clearly, he didn’t think much of an animal’s life. But because he was spending just enough at Murasaki, your only choice was to take the hideous pest off his hands. You excused yourself and headed for the pet shop immediately.

I’d like to make a return, you told the staff at XJ Land, setting the little runt down. I can’t care for it. 

Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you got him. The man at the counter barely hid his disdain. Sorry, but this isn’t a place for fickle returns. 

Someone gave it to me—I didn’t ask for this. You didn’t appreciate his tone but you understood the sentiments behind it. You matched his face to some pictures on the shelves behind and concluded that he owned the shop. C’mon, Matsuno-san, you read from his name-tag, cocking your head in the way that guaranteed you another round of drinks from your clients. I’m just thinking about what’s best for this dog. He’ll be better off back in those arms of yours… Won’t you take him in? Can’t you consider it a favour?

The young man sighed, muttering something extreme under his breath about how humans deserve nothing good, but picked the puppy up with blushing cheeks nonetheless. Do you have the certificate of ownership? Or the receipt?

Well, no, you replied rather sheepishly, I was simply told this is the shop he’s from.

He shook his head and inspected the tiny dog in an attempt to identify it. You couldn't help but notice that even though he was being perfectly gentle and careful, the animal was frightened to its bones from being handled by yet another stranger. It bore its sad, pathetic eyes into yours, as if trying to worm its way into your heart. Too bad, you almost sneered, but that old trick won't work on me. 

And yet, you couldn't look away.

Sorry, lady, but he isn’t from my shop, Matsuno finally said. You’ll need to check with whoever bought him again. Or better yet, why don’t you give him a chance?

I can’t take care of a pet in my life now. But neither could you risk offending Yamamoto-san, though your respect for him had all but vanished. Are you sure he isn’t from here?

I know every single one of my pets, and I only have pedigrees so far. He tried to calm the puppy down with a hug. This little guy looks like a Jatzu. 

It was still shivering. What’s a Jatzu? 

A cross between a Japanese Chin and Shih Tzu, he answered, then sized you up and ventured: It’s a ‘designer’ dog, if you care about that sorta thing. You couldn’t blame him for his assumption because you knew how you appeared with your dress and make-up. 

This dog doesn’t look anything like a Shih Tzu, you retorted. Your mother used to talk about keeping one in her village a long, long time ago, so you were aware of the breed. Looks like pure Chin to me. How can you tell?

Your question lifted the frown off Matsuno, who fortunately took it as a sign of interest rather than an accusation. He proceeded to demonstrate by pointing out the length of its body and shortness of its legs. Something about the texture of its coat too. The more he spoke, the brighter his blue eyes shone, and soon it became too late for you to stop him from sharing everything he knew about the dog. By the time he remembered to breathe, he’d delivered a full pitch about why you should bring it home. Even you had to admire how hard he was trying to sell a product that wasn’t even his in the first place. 

Did you know? Both the Chin and Shih Tzu were once treated as royal pets in East Asia, he added excitedly. The Shih Tzu were especially precious to the Chinese for bringing good luck and fortune. See this white patch between his eyes? That’s where the Buddha kissed him. That makes him a blessed dog who’ll protect you from evil!

What a load of bull. If that were true, your mother never would’ve met your father. Your aunt, who presumably shared the same dog in their village, would've won more than she lost at every casino she went to. Your life could've turned out entirely different—maybe you wouldn't even exist! This misfortune is intergenerational. You’ve got a pretty useless cousin somewhere, huh? you thought wryly at the mutt, catching its pitiful gaze again. Trust me, pal, you don’t want in on my life. There’s nothing good for you here.

It gave a small whine, which you'd liked to think was mere coincidence, and Matsuno ran a soothing palm over its massively deformed head. It really was an ugly dog. You simply couldn’t find anything adorable about it. In fact, it was a painful sight, looking like it was bred to suffer. Its marbly eyes were always watery, likely from the discomfort of sticking so far out its skull, and it was hard to fathom how it could eat or drink from its flat face without choking. Even breathing must've been a chore with how squashed its nose was! And this was a designer dog, wasn’t it? So, this anatomical tragedy was by design, by fancy!

You could empathise now: this poor creature was born to live out a nightmare. All because a couple of humans wanted something to love. An existence so wantonly bestowed!

Sucks, doesn’t it? you felt like saying. Before you knew it, your heart had gone out to it completely. 

Tell you what, onē-san. A man sidled up to Matsuno and slung an arm over his shoulder. A tattoo peeked out from his turtleneck. We’ll let you leave him here if you also leave us your LINE. How about that?

Dude! Matsuno hissed. You’re at work!

What? Don’t we need someone to call if anything goes wrong? The other young man smirked deviously, the mole below his right eye bending. Man, you have no sense for business. Here you are, getting a fancy new dog to sell at zero cost, and you're turning it away.

Seriously, if you don't shut the hell up—

Matsuno never got to finish his threat. Without thinking, you had taken the puppy off his hands. Strange. It didn’t feel so warm and soft when you were holding it before. It stilled upon your touch, wagged its skinny tail and seemed to grin victoriously while it panted. I’ve got you now! it’d probably like to say. Don’t you think we can make each others’ lives better? And just like that, you caved in like rotting wood. 

A blessing, huh? you said, giving a small tap on its wet, sputtering nose. I guess I’ll take your word for it, Matsuno-san—

The red flash of a traffic light hits your eyes and your van groans to a halt. 

“Say, Pierre-kun, you're running out of food. Why don't we make a stop by XJ Land after this?" you offer, to which the dog barks happily in agreement. It's amusing how much of a personality he's grown since you both left the pet shop that day. "If you and I really go at it, we can make Matsuno-san give us a discount." 

While pedestrians are still gliding across your windscreen, you turn to the back of your van to check the boxes left in it: only a couple more to drop off at—you quickly consult your phone—Chiyoda Ward. You succumb to a groan. 

Chiyoda is a little out of your way, so there will be less time you can spend at the store before you must head for Murasaki. The bigger problem at hand, though, is that the packages are due at Marunouchi district in Chiyoda, where most of your clients from the club work at. Things will get sticky if any one of them is to spot you unloading boxes from your van. It won't take them long to figure out the kind of day job you hold. You’re supposed to deliver fantasies and dreams, Mama will seethe, not online purchases or some hikikomori’s second lunch! She may even throw in a slap for good measure. Murasaki does not forbid its girls to moonlight—god knows that some of you need to—but Mama has driven her contempt for it into everybody’s heads. Men climb mountains to see the tennyō who live in heaven, you once heard her telling a girl who no longer works at the club. Do you think they’ll still do so if they can just find one at a fucking Seven-Eleven, cashing in their change? Do you think they’ll even want to anymore? 

Well, that much you must agree with Mama. Utsu and Yū and the women of Murasaki aren’t supposed to exist in the real world. But with the lion’s share of your salary going to her and the Mara-kai, you needed a second job, and a girl clutching only a high-school diploma didn’t have many options. Service jobs like store-keeping or waitressing were out of the question—you will never have the strength to deal with human beings all day and all night. 

You were drawing crosses on job listings when a delivery man rang your door to hand you some toys you’d bought Pierre, and you noticed he wasn't wearing a uniform. Yes, m’am, anyone can do freelance delivery, the young man answered with a blush, demonstrating on his phone how you can start. Shortly after, you bought a minivan for cheap at a second-hand dealer and ever since, you’ve been driving around the city and ringing doorbells on your afternoons. The payout is just enough to cover your meals and utilities, but there isn’t much to complain about: you get to work on your own hours (or not), and with the company of your dog. Really, the only fly in the ointment is the worry of someone asking if you also work at Murasaki—but you figure you can slip under the radar with drab clothes and a bare face. 

As you turn into the grove of steel towers and skyscrapers, your glove box buzzes with a ring. Your stomach drops when you remember that it's where you kept your work phone—the one you use for Murasaki. Shit. Were you somehow already seen? Did some passer-by catch a glance while crossing before your van? Fuck! You'll never hear the end of it from Mama. The old shrew may even take a bigger cut off your earnings as punishment! Suddenly, you are stricken with regret. You should have cancelled those bloody requests when you had the chance!

"What a coincidence, Yamamoto-san," you answered, disguising your nervous voice as a coy one. Yamamoto-san is a director at a financial firm, so you know his office is in the area. “I was just thinking about you.” 

“Oh, hey, Utsu.” He sounds a little curt, like he's still figuring out the best way to confront you. “Really? What are you doing now?”

The red light turns green, and you find an alley to pull over at. “I’m just at the pet store with Pierre-chan, which was why you crossed my mind.”

“Right. Anyway, listen. What’s going on at Murasaki?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mama-san just told me she’s cancelling our appointment on Tanabata. My friend—Sawada, you’ve met him—got the same call too for his date with Aoi. What’s this about?”

Your delivery job is still in the bag! But what Yamamoto-san has said is too puzzling for you to enjoy the relief. It's come out of the blue entirely. "I wasn't informed. Is there a mistake? As far as I know, you're still my eight o'clock on the seventh."

"No, we even got a message about it in black and white. Don’t you women communicate?”

"You must be really important to Murasaki if Mama's told you this before me." That utter cow! Leaving a mess like this to clear! You're curious about the reason behind these sudden cancellations. Concerned. But still you decide not to ask to avoid stoking Yamamoto-san's fire. "I apologise for this. I'll check with her. I trust that she's also offered you some sort of compensation?"

"Yeah… Store credit for a half-hour session."

"I'll throw in some Yamazaki too, how about that?"

"Fine. Make it an 18-year bottle at least."

You roll your eyes at Pierre. This old fogey must be out of his depth if he thinks he's worth that much. Still, you agree just so you can hang up quickly. The bartenders at Murasaki will know how to swap it with something cheap. 

"Utsu, the free whiskey is nice and all, but what I really wanted was to spend Tanabata with you, you know?" he added in a cottony tone. "It's a night for lovers, after all." 

"That makes the both of us, Yamamoto-san," you say, instead of suggesting that he spends it with his goddamn wife. "I'm so sorry, but Pierre-chan's getting frisky with another dog. I'll contact you again to reschedule, alright? Goodbye!"

Pierre lets out an indignant huff, and you pet his head in apology for using his name so unjustly.

You remember to breathe again. It’s not too much of a mystery when you think about it: Aoi pulls in the most sales for Murasaki and you come up second—some fat cat must’ve insisted on booking out the club’s top girls. It’s happened before, and Mama was also brusque in informing everyone then. Which zaibatsu scion is it this time? Or could it be a celebrity? Well, whoever walks through the door that night better bring some new faces and wallets with them. It’s proving to be hard for you to fish three-million yen from your current roster of clients.  

As if to thwart the ease that’s settled, your phone rings once more. But instead of a call, it is now exploding with messages. A cold, unpleasant hunch tells you that the Tanabata thing is bigger than you thought, and you raise the screen up to your eyes to prove it true: customers are complaining left and right about the abrupt cancellation of their appointments. They’re not the only ones either. Your colleagues are also voicing their bewilderment in the group chat, assuming some kind of grievous error on the club’s website. Even second-tier hostesses like Atsuko have all their meetings struck off, and they worry about their fickle clients turning to another club for the night.

This is unprecedented. Murasaki has never once been booked out in its entirety. Mama will never give her customers a reason to visit other establishments, and there is simply more to earn from multiple parties than just one. Her heels are dug firmly in the ground when it comes to business. You feel sick, guts wringing bile up your throat. Like an eclipse upon light, it dawns slowly: the name for which Mama has bent her own iron rules for.

Bonten.

Is there something to be made of this glowering sky? Kakuchō is not a superstitious man and yet he cannot perceive these dark clouds as anything but ominous. It'd been sunny all day with no sign of precipitation, but as soon as he entered the car, thunder began to roll. Normally, this jarring turn of weather wouldn't throw him off, but as it's happened right before Bonten's meeting with the Mara-kai, Kakuchō cannot help but wonder if it might be an indication of sorts. In the end, he supposes with a bit of humility that even he is not immune to the dread of meeting the most dangerous man in Japan—especially when they are soon to take one of his most important assets: the hostess club Murasaki.

"Lighten up, will you?" drawls Ran from the seat beside. His lazy smile is bright in contrast to the brewing storm. "It's sacrilege to walk into a club with a glum face."

"We're walking into business," Kakuchō retorts, narrowing his eyes at the glass of whiskey in Ran's hand. "You can be a little less relaxed about this." 

Ran responds pointedly with a sip of alcohol. When they were all younger, it grated on Kakuchō how unfazed Ran could bring himself to be about the world. No matter what kind of pinch he was in, Ran’s air of nonchalance was unwavering. He’d always figure out a way to make light of his situation and smile. Did he truly not care? Was he just that confident about himself? Or could it really be what Izana said, that he was an idiot and had once again let his head drift off to the clouds? In any case, it annoyed Kakuchō, who often took things seriously. These days however, as it becomes harder and harder to sleep without a gun by his bed, Kakuchō finds this quality of Ran somewhat enviable. 

"Rindō and Mocchi just got to the club,” Ran breaks the silence again, reading off his phone. He taps on the headrest of their chauffeur, who immediately apologises for his slow driving. “Rindō already has playlists for Murasaki. Have you heard them?”

“Yes. And you should stop him from playing them if you want the club to profit.”

“Well, I happen to like some of his tracks…” Ran appears to mull. “But I must say it’s not the vibe for Murasaki. It’ll be your first time there tonight, won’t it?”

Kakuchō refuses to answer, which satisfies Ran all the same.

“You’ll have your pick of girls, or you can leave it to the mama," he explains, finishing his last swig of whiskey as their car turns into the Azabu-Jūban district. “She’s got an eye for choosing the right one.”

“I know how a hostess club works.”

“I never said that you didn’t. Oh, I’ll let you meet my girl too.”

“Didn’t ask to.”

“You know, I can’t wait to tell her who her new bosses are." A sinister sort of smile spreads across Ran’s lips. “She’s going to lose it.” 

Kakuchō rolls his eyes, hoping that his colleague will remember where their priorities are at the moment. “Will the mama be working for us as well?”

“Presumably, because she works for Murasaki. Just like a CEO working for a new board. But her loyalties seem to lie with Tanida…" Ran trails off, gazing out of the window now. The Mori Tower passes his view—they're getting close to their destination. “Murasaki will be ours, for sure, but it won’t be worth as much if Mama-san doesn't have our interests at heart. We'll talk to the Mara-kai about this later."

Kakuchō feels urged to mention that something like that should've already been discussed. It is common sense that a club is only as valuable as the mama who runs it, and from what he’s heard, there lives no mama who’s made as much money as the one in Murasaki. But he also sees no point in starting the conversation when they're about to alight, so he decides against his comment. It's not like he's in the right position to speak, anyway; it'll be like telling a fish how it should swim. The Haitani Brothers were practically put on earth to run Tokyo’s nightlife—there was never any question about who was to lead Bonten’s foray into the trade. Even though he outranks Ran, Kakuchō knows to hold his tongue when it comes to that business. 

After a series of turns, their driver finally pulls into a quiet street. It appears that night has since crept up, unnoticed amidst the dark rain clouds.

Takeomi’s mentioned that Murasaki was once a dingy snack bar in the basement of an old wooden shophouse. It’s not something anyone will guess of the sleek, steel-reinforced building that stands before Kakuchō now. In fact, it hardly resembles any establishment of that sort. Blinding neon signs, fast-talking touts and even garish menus of the ladies on shift—hostess and cabaret clubs are rarely shy about what they are. Even modest ones will sneak in the word 'girls' somewhere on their storefronts to let the men of the world know just what they are really selling. 

But Murasaki is none of those. Its glass and concrete façade blends well with the other buildings in Roppongi-itchōme, where major offices and foreign embassies are close, almost as if to present itself as one of them. Any indication of its true order of business is contained in a small sign at its porch, which only spells the romaji of its name in backlit brass letters. Still, it can easily pass off as a restaurant’s plaque to passers-by who don’t know any better. 

So—this is Murasaki. It is as unassuming as a club can be, but Kakuchō supposes the inconspicuousness is appreciated by most clients.

“Sanzu-sama’s car will be arriving in fifteen minutes, and the boss will take another ten,” notifies a subordinate as he shelters Kakuchō with an umbrella. Hardly a necessary gesture when they can reach the club’s entrance in just a few steps, but Kakuchō’s been told to accustom himself to the executive treatment. Noone’s gonna look up to you if you don’t put yourself higher than them, said Takeomi when he caught Kakuchō telling a lackey he can open his own doors. The advice still doesn’t sit well—partly because it came from a man once ruined by hubris—but Kakuchō understands the need to be commanding. He enters the foyer, where Ran is already waiting.

“Party’s on the fourth floor for us,” he informs. Ran is, of course, referring to themselves and the other Bonten executives. “All our other guys will be having fun in the atrium. Mama-san’s cleared the whole place out for us. Isn’t she nice?”

“Or she could be laying a trap,” frowns Kakuchō, prompting the other man to sigh. “Pretty convenient to have us all in the same place at once, don’t you think?”

“We’ve been through this… Have a little faith,” Ran pats him on the shoulder, the mild exasperation in his tone warning him not to continue. He turns to the concierge, who greets them with obsequious familiarity. “Good evening, Koremitsu-san. Big night, huh?”

“We humbly look forward to your guidance, Haitani-sama. I’d toast to you, but I am on the job.” Koremitsu, if that is his real name at all, bows deeply. In bronze letters, the wall behind him boldly reads: there are as many sorts of women as there are women. “Mama-san is at the VIP lounges with your brother and Mochizuki-sama.”

“And Utsu?"

"Still getting ready, the last I heard…" He dials a telephone on his desk and whispers into it, vaguely annoyed. "I apologise. You know how she likes to take her time for you."

"And you know how I'd gladly wait for her." 

Ran has always held the passing of seasons and women in the same regard—Kakuchō knows this of his friend, but in seeing the grin he's flashed, wonders if the man is now capable of real attachment. 

“Well, instead of waiting, why don’t you sample our new shipment of Dom Peris?” Koremitsu offers, rubbing his hands together. “Mama-san would also like you to pick the champagne for tonight.”

“Now that is a job for me,” Ran gleefully agrees, wasting no time in following the concierge to a door on their right. Clearly, he has no qualms about leaving Kakuchō at all. “Elevator’s down that hallway,” he points out, waving over his shoulder as he disappears just like that. “See you at the fourth floor in a bit, brawler!”

It is now Kakuchō’s turn to sigh, which is the most he can do about that rascal, anyway. The Aigner on his wrist tells him that Mikey and Takeomi are due to arrive, Sanzu and Kokonoi even sooner, so he settles to make his way up as Ran instructed. Once inside, Murasaki reveals itself as a different world entirely. Kakuchō is not a man of culture and neither does he pretend to be one, but even he can recognise a couple of the western paintings hung around the walls. It becomes apparent from every piece of furniture and artwork that the club was designed to flaunt Tanida’s wealth. A little too extravagant for his own tastes, but definitely something right up the Haitanis' alley. 

The passage Kakuchō's been sent to is washed in black, which makes the walk seem longer than it should. By the time he reaches the metal doors at the end of it, he feels as though he’s walked into a different plane altogether. Kakuchō, unrelentingly cautious, beckons for three of his subordinates to follow him into the elevator. He quickly regrets it when the space turns out to be too tight of a squeeze for four built men—a sly trick, apparently: according to Rindō, it gives the hostesses an excuse to cosy up. How Mikey will take to being packed in this tin can later is a problem he cannot help but worry about. The boss has always needed his space from others.

The ride is soon interrupted at the second floor. Someone else is on their way up too, though Kakuchō doubts they’ll have much luck getting in with how his guards have walled themselves around him. The doors slide open and they see a young woman waiting on the other side: while her dress and make-up are more subtle than the other girls he's been brought to, she is unmistakably a hostess.

"Oh, please excuse me…" she mumbles in surprise, the crowd catching her off guard. Her expression suggests that she wouldn’t have entered even if the space allowed her to anyway. "I'll take the next one."

One of the guards grunts an apology while the other two release the guns by their waists. They are disciplined enough to keep their faces steely, but Kakuchō can sense their disappointment about her leaving—even he has noticed how lovely the woman is. Kakuchō has always been somewhat proud of being level-headed, so this compulsion to stare at her is becoming quite the bother. Under the soft glow of the elevator light: her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her lips—Ah, shit… By the time the doors have closed, he is cursing himself for learning the full map of her face. At some point his heart has also quickened, beating as though it is on the verge of an answer to some great question, and he is left to dwell on its betrayal as the elevator ascends.

The fourth floor introduces itself with a blast of amber light and a pungent mix of cigarette smoke and perfume. Though he still has a corridor to pass, Kakuchō can well imagine from the raucous laughter that Rindō, Mocchi and their trusted men have already succumbed to the club’s hospitalities. Those idiots… Just save Tanida the trouble and roll over, why don't they? Has it ever occurred to anyone else that the Mara-kai can still be a threat? Apparently, age does not represent wisdom, and therein lies the reason why Bonten is led by its three youngest members. He presses on with his journey into the private lounge.

“So, this is Bonten’s Number Three… Where've you been hiding all this while?" It doesn't take long for the shark to circle in. An older woman—the mama, he presumes—purrs, teeth gleaming at the scent of fresh blood. She turns to Rindō, who’s joined them to make the introduction. "Why haven't you brought this stud to my club before?"

"Hey, aniki and I tried our best, but Kakuchō here is not that sorta guy," he explains with air quotes, smirking. It's obvious from his loose speech that he's already drunk more than he should. "Seriously, it's like he's sworn a vow at a monastery or something."

Are the Haitani Brothers genetically predisposed to get on his nerves? Kakuchō wishes that Rindō would at least have the sense to keep his mind clear before an important meeting, but he supposes that even sense in general is too much to ask from a fool. Seeing that his best course of action is to simply ignore Rindō, he gives the mama a curt nod. "Our business is in your care." 

"Ah, I know the stoic type well," she remarks, eyeing him up and down as she sips on her long pipe. "I have just the girl you need, but I'd rather give my customers a choice. So, anyone you like? What's your eye for beauty?" 

If it was truly up to him, Kakuchō would very much like to be in the company of his guards only. But as the saying about Rome goes… He seeks the expanse of the lounge for someone to pick, only to realise that he is already bound to a choice. At once, the young woman from the elevator comes to mind. The dim lights then have left an unreliable rendering of her hair and he wasn't very observant about what she wore, but everything else about her is burning starkly behind his eyes. It seems that her face has filled his head entirely and spared no space for anything else. But how does one begin to describe a face? It is perhaps as hard, if not harder, to put into words as a feeling. 

“So?” Rindō slings a probing arm over his shoulders, teeming with anticipation not unlike a paparazzi in wait for a scoop. He must’ve guessed from Kakuchō’s hesitation that there is a genuine answer at stake. So smug is his shit-eating grin that, despite himself, Kakuchō is resolved to deny him any further satisfaction instead. “Anyone will do,” he grunts to the mama, the decision leaving a rather bitter taste on his tongue.

"Hmm, thought as much… There's no need to be shy, you know?" Smoke swells from her nose, and she motions for a hostess waiting by the bar to come over. "This is Rokujō, and she'll lead you out of your shell by the hand."

"Call me Jō," the hostess insists, bowing slowly so that both men will not miss how full her breasts are. He immediately detects a difference in age between them, and it strikes Kakuchō that Jō is one of the more mature women of the lot. Is that what the mama thought of him? He cannot find it in himself to protest, so he greets his companion politely and lets her fill the space by his arm. What does it matter, anyway, when he isn’t here to enjoy himself in the first place? Still, he cannot suppress his growing dismay for how the night is turning out. 

Rindō grumbles in disappointment at how boring Kakuchō is determined to be and leaves with the mama for a livelier corner of the room, where Mocchi has made himself at home with an armful of girls. Kakuchō is instead steered away to a quieter corner by Jō, who must've either sensed his preference for it or is planning to keep him all to herself. Both reasons may also be at play together. Her courtship proceeds formulaically: she praises how hard his biceps are, twice, refills his drink, and attempts to learn all there is to know about him. He entertains her sparingly.

Jō is undeniably beautiful but not beautiful in a way that frustrates him, and that is why she cannot stop him from glancing at the lounge’s doors every so often. He doesn’t mean to be rude, but duty has to come first: Mikey is to appear any time now. Tanida too, if everyone is keeping to the plan. However, as the minutes tick by, it becomes harder and harder to pretend that the unease spreading between his lungs is caused by anything but the possibility of never meeting the woman from the elevator again. Could it be that she was heading for the third floor instead of the fourth? Was she assigned somewhere else at the last minute? Will he see her again? With all these pointless questions clouding his mind, Kakuchō can feel himself slipping into a pathetic state. The last time he felt so reduced was when he'd been seventeen and still a boy. Because the girl in question was something special, he can accept the torment he was put through then, but, now, for a woman he's barely met...? Beauty alone has never been enough to sway Kakuchō of Bonten—why should that change?

"Utsu, you little tart. You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago!"

"Sorry, Mama. I was getting ready."

The mama's distinct tenor voice breaks his reverie but it is the softer one after it that holds his attention. Helpless to the familiar call of the sound, he looks up and his eyes land on her immediately despite the flock of bodies in the room: the woman, by the door! She is bent in a slight bow—presumably one of apology to the mama—and so her face is still partially concealed, but Kakuchō has no doubt about who she is. He's even developed a strange confidence that he’d be able to recognise her anywhere, like he's known her for a long time. 

The woman straightens herself, bringing her features into the light, and something between his lungs moves. Stirring, fluttering, thrashing, writhing—Kakuchō cannot tell how it is moving exactly, only that it cannot be stopped. It takes him to a realisation he should've arrived at a long time before, and by the time he's caught a clear view of her face, Kakuchō knows deep in his bones what he must do. 

He must not let her slip away again, not the way he did eight years ago. 

Embarrassing: you still wring your fingers into knots when you are nervous. Didn’t you leave this bad habit behind in your girlhood with the rest of it? Or have you simply not been nervous enough for it to surface? Whatever the case is, this shameful display is unbecoming of you, so you summon Mama’s advice to mind and cross your arms to keep your hands from moving.

“How about this?” 

You look up and the only thing you see in the mirror is the searing glare of your hairdresser. Chū Reika has been giving blowouts to the girls of Murasaki for nine years and is only ever thanked for it. Therefore, you can see where her temper is coming from when you request that she changes your hairstyle, again, for the fifth time. 

“You know you look fine!” she seethes, obviously harbouring a desire to scalp you then and there. “Are you messing with me?!” 

“I think I want an up-do after all…” you pretend to mull, fingering the loose waves falling on your shoulder. Chū throws her hands up in defeat and moves to pack her brushes, so you dig around your wallet for something to win her back with. “C’mon, Chū-jie. It’s a special night. I just want to look my best.”

The other hostesses refer to her by Chū-nē out of affection, but you prefer to use the Mandarin equivalent that is ‘jie’. Chū Reika landed on the shores of Japan a decade ago to escape the poverty of her village in China—a rather common story you’ve heard. Her Japanese has since grown to be impeccable but she has yet to find a way to mask her unusual intonation. Most other girls cannot tell where it’s coming from, but because your mother had given you an ear for the Chinese accent, you could ask where her provincial hometown is right off the bat of your first meeting—in the language she is most natural with. To tell the truth, you didn’t really care for the information, but you reckoned it'd be helpful to endear yourself to the hairdresser. 

“Stop lying, I know you’re just dragging time.” Chū sighs, considerately switching to Mandarin when calling your intentions out even though there is no one else around. She pinches the five-thousand-yen note from your hand and gets to work again. “Your hair will fry, you know.”

Chū has hit the nail on the head but you don't praise her for it. A week ago, some time after your call with Yamamoto-san, Mama made the executive order for every hostess to punch in on the night of Tanabata. "We're reserving the club for some very important guests” was all she indulged, but word had somehow gotten out that Murasaki is changing hands and the event is meant to welcome the new owners. You are capable of simple arithmetic so it didn’t take long for you to conclude that the Mara-kai had sold to Bonten, and from the moment you summed that up, you’ve been afflicted with a sinking feeling in the pits of your stomach. What will happen to you? What will Tanida do with you? Now that it is Tanabata, the gutting ache is at its height. You'd woken up at mid-day wishing you could hide the night out under your quilt, but because Mama has ruled that out as an option, you were left with the next best thing to do: delay it. 

The phone in the dressing room rings just as Chū is about to pin your last clump of loose hair, and she leaves to answer it only when the noise has grown too annoying to bear. You don't need to hear the angry hissing of the receiver to know what the call is about. It's half an hour past the time you were ordered to be on the fourth floor—Koremitsu must've been tasked with summoning you there, probably by Mama or Ran. That utter tool. You've never liked his snivelling, grovelling ways.

“Well, this is the best I can do,” Chū tells you as she finishes her job. The previous hairstyle suits you better, but in your best interests you keep that to yourself and give your thanks instead. Besides, there is something strangely gratifying about not looking your best for the night. To hell with Mama. To hell with Ran! With any luck, the last-minute styling may even dampen your appeal to that greasebag. When he was a customer, you could at the very least count on the good old excuse of club etiquette to keep him at arm's length. But now that Ran's the fucking boss, he is free to step over all the rules and become as much of a pain as he wants. Can’t you be allowed even a single respite in life? Can’t the gods show you mercy for once?

So indignant you are at the perversity of it all that you don’t even realise you’ve called for an elevator. The sudden beeping startles you into awareness, and you’re glad that it did before you can walk into the wall of meat that is practically spilling out the doors. Ah, right. Mama did warn that Murasaki will be welcoming more testosterone and muscle tonight, but even then it did nothing to prepare you for the shock of having three large men scowl down at you.

“Oh, please excuse me…” you take a step back to appease them, who you’ve identified as bodyguards from their plain dressing and defensive stance. “I’ll take the next one." 

These men must be from Bonten, but unlike Ran’s guards who always seemed to care more about your tits than their boss’s safety, these three golems appear to be actually competent at their job. You attribute their discipline to the man brooding quietly behind them. He is a little smaller in stature, but the authority exuding from his stern gaze is definitely one of a leader. The closing doors have stolen your chance to catch a proper look, but the hasty glimpse you’ve snuck of him shows dark hair and what resembles a large scar across his left eye. The sight comes accompanied by a sense of familiarity, but you dismiss it easily because there’s no way you’d forget a Bonten member like that. 

The next elevator comes soon enough—too soon, in fact—and you brace yourself for the night of torture. It shortly begins with fierce shrieking from Mama. 

"Utsu, you little tart,” she rounds in as you enter the lounge, spitting smoke all over your face. “You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago!"

“Sorry, Mama,” you bow, not minding that there isn't a shred of the sentiment carried in your tone. “I was getting ready.”

“Oh, were you?” You can tell from her constipated expression that she’s torn between yelling at you more or letting you go. Mama hates to flog at dead horses so she settles on the latter with a sigh, making sure to clip you in the shoulder as she leaves. “Ran is coming up soon. Prepare yourself.”

You don’t suppose she's left a sympathetic sort of meaning to her instruction, but the idea amuses you nonetheless. That, and Ran’s absence itself, lift your spirits enough for you to power through with your job. You walk over to the bartender to place an order for Ran’s favourite drink, going by a roundabout way to avoid Rindō, who is presently egging on a blonde, goateed man in his endeavour to chug a full bottle of whiskey straight. Another Bonten executive, you presume from his flashy, moss-green suit and the throng of your colleagues he's gathered. How many of them are there, again? Four, seven executives? Well, you don't care enough to recall. You'll find out soon, anyway. 

The bartender nods and smiles in greeting as you approach the counter, but his eyes are distant—the courtesy is meant for someone behind. You turn around to face the tall, imposing figure looming over your back.

Dark hair and a scarred eye: it's that man from the elevator. 

Though the intensity of his gaze suggests that he's been staring at you for a while, he looks to be even more surprised than you are about the meeting, like it never occurred to him that he'd see you again. Normally, you'd instantly peg him as some kind of creep for displaying such an odd demeanour and set the bouncers on him, but for some strange, inexplicable reason, you empathise with his shock instead. It doesn't take you long to connect it to that sense of familiarity you felt when you first saw his face, which has now returned in an overwhelming wave. 

“Nikaidō.” Breath escapes him and he looks relieved, as though your name is something he’s lost and found. The confidence he declared it with, however, falters by the time of his next question. He points to the streak across his eye. “Do you remember me?”

Upon his bid, the world gives way to this man before you. The haze of eight years starts to thin, and slowly he takes on the shape of that boy outside your door, the one who so earnestly asked if he’d see you again. He’s been made unfamiliar by a taut face, longer hair and a sleek, dark suit—but because this is someone you once learned by touch, you have no doubt about who he is. A name gathers at the tip of your tongue, like a song once beloved.  

“Kakuchō.” You’re smiling before you know it. “I’d remember you even without that scar.”

Never have you spoken truer words in your time at Club Murasaki.

Glossary of Terms / References Used | Next Chapter TBC

A/N: It's been a hot minute and I apologise for that! Several things going on here in this primarily MC-centric chapter, I hope you enjoyed the little reveals about her life! I promise, her background is plot-relevant. Oh, and I guess her reunion with Kakucho is in this too, huh! :P As always comments and reblogs and tag-coments will be loved till the end of time!

[trialsinthelateromanrepublic]

trial of Publius Decius Subolo

date: 119? BCE charge: either lex Acilia de repetundis or lex Sempronia ne quis iudicio circumveniatur defendant: P. Decius Subolo tr. pl. 120, pr. 115

Cic. de Orat. 2.135; Part. 104

Badian (JRS 1956) 92-93 argues that Decius was charged with extortion, in a trial separate from that of Opimius, with the charge being that he had taken money to conduct the prosecution of Opimius. Gruen, RPCC 110 counters with the observation that, whereas the receipt of money ob accusandum vel non accusandum did constitute a violation of the lex Iulia de repetundis, there is no evidence that the same sort of provision existed under the lex Acilia. (Of course, our text of the statute is fragmentary.) He suggests that this may have been a comitial trial under the lex Sempronia ne quis iudicio circumveniatur, possibly the same as the lex Sempronia ne de capite civium Romanorum iniussu populi iudicetur.

[whentherewerebicycles]

good morning! my beautiful baby slept well last night and was being v sweet this morning cooing softly to himself in his crib. he is now refusing to nap so I’ll have to just cherish these memories of him being sweet while we deal with the inevitable approaching meltdown 😂 we have my OB appt this morning and then the nanny is coming over this afternoon.

today’s to-do list (while nanny is here):

OB appt

clean bottles

clean kitchen

take out recycling

submit insurance forms for MTG

send intro email to new student

email PEPS group

check on dental insurance EOB

copy agenda for PLC and update/tailor for saturday intro call

send new EOB to dentist office to get reimbursement processed

email vision insurance about creating new account

scan anesthesia receipt and submit claim

submit amazon return requests

stack all returns so I can carry them to the car

check on TRS paperwork

empty diaper pail trash

pack up AF returns

walk dogs? (he got too hot in his stroller yesterday so I think I gotta go first thing in the morning or while his nanny is here)

do some initial therapy journaling homework which I keep putting off

[okasiya]

椎名林檎 – 丸の内サディスティック

Lyrics: Ringo Sheena / Music: Ringo Shiina / Tr: okasiya

Marunouchi Sadistic

My wages have have been on a track to nowhere since I got hired I love Tokyo but there’s nothing here for me

Won’t you get me a Ric 620? I don’t have ¥190,000 for it Ochanomizu

A bump of Marshall sends me flying, it’s a problem That’s how I reach climax every night I’ve got a single RAT as the tool of my trade Then Benji fills my lungs and I trip

Recently I’ve been playing cops and robbers in Ginza Even if you push boundaries, prosperity leads to decline Won’t you write me a receipt? I don’t have an accountant Korakuen

I want you to become a monk and marry me someday We’ll just play in the sheets every night I’d like to become the Pizza Guy’s Girlfriend Then Benji hits me with his Gretsch

Won’t you come for me under the stars? If I’m going home on the last train it’s from Ikebukuro

A bump of Marshall sends me flying, it’s a problem That’s how I reach climax every night I’ve got a single RAT as the tool of my trade Then Benji fills my lungs and I trip

I want you to become a monk and marry me someday We’ll just play in the sheets every night I’d like to become the Pizza Guy’s Girlfriend Then Benji hits me with his Gretsch

———

I wish Tumblr made it easier to write footnotes!!!

This song is about the harsh reality of a struggling musician in Tokyo who finds escape in her love of music, framed by stops on the Marunouchi subway line. Kenichi Asai (called Benji by fans), the legendary frontman of Blankey Jet City, plays the part of a drug and an imaginary lover.

"The pizza guy's girlfriend" comes from a line in a BJC song, so SR is saying she wants to live in their music, not date a guy who makes pizza or work in a pizza parlor. This line is obscure even in Japanese but it haunts me how much it's been misunderstood by English-speaking fans.

I managed to pull a couple double meanings through but one line is absolutely impossible:

青 噛んで熟って頂戴

Phonetically, she's having public sex and asking her partner to orgasm. From the way she wrote it, it essentially says, "take a bite of the green fruit and let it ripen," speaking of her impatience to join the ranks of her musical inspirations, with a wink to her stage name.