#well honestly i only think of her when i imagine myself finding her junkie ass tripping on the street and kicking her.

[sar3nka]

If my ex is still looking at my blog then um I'm almost embarrassed that I don't think or post abt him nearly as much as I do about crazy woman I only spent like 3 nights with. Like sorry but those 5 years weren't that impactful really but I was also trying not to die and I don't remember much

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #35)

(cw: discussion of addiction) ----------

01/23/88   4:02 PM

Hey.

So. I’d admitted that I was an addict. 

Which was, as I’d realize in the days after, not just a sentence you could say and be over with. It was an admission to so many things, many of which I’d been trying so hard not to believe over the course of my addiction. That it really was that bad. That it wouldn’t just go away with time. That I could not stop of my own free will. That I couldn’t fix myself alone.

That counselling really was my one chance at beating this thing for good. 

Which, in itself, was a scary thought. If it was my last chance, I could not screw it up. And I’ve always loved screwing things up. It’s so, so important that I get this thing right, and it’s been really hard at points to picture myself doing that. Even as early as the second step, I felt doomed to fail.

The second step, of course, is Hope. 

Hope that a higher power could save us from ourselves.

Yeah. It’s not that I don’t believe in the Devs. I do, unfortunately. It’s just that I’ve always believed they’re fickle dickwads who don’t give a crit about any of us. They’ve only ever been a source of pain for me. Honestly, I outright hate the Devs. So being faced with this idea that if I didn’t find faith, I could not complete this extremely important counselling, I was understandably more than a little stressed. I didn’t get why that had to be part of the deal. So many of the steps are built around this faith. It’s integral. I had to beg the question: Do only Devout deserve saving?

Fix-it’s response to my spirited rants was to suggest that it did not necessarily have to be the Devs, just a higher power. Something bigger than him or me, some deeper meaning to life, something I truly believed in. Like he, himself, while he is a practicing Devout, places more importance on ‘duty’ than anything else. ‘Duty’ informs his actions, ‘duty’ colors his lens of the world. I probably don’t need to tell you the jokes I made out of that. He didn’t seem to get it.

That widened things up, I’ll give him that. But it widened them too much. I could either pick the Devs, or pull something out of my ass and make a religion out of it. The latter sounds like something I’d only enjoy doing while high, for cuss’ sake. I’ve never been too big on philosophies in general. Partying hard had always been enough of a philosophy for me, but then I went and partied too damn hard and wound up the mess that I was. A junkie with no rhyme or reason.

Step two was looking even more depressing than expected.

On the night before my third session, Fix-it brought out a surprise that he thought might help me relax or cheer up or what have you. He laid down a tarp, a few blank canvases, and gave me an assortment of tubes of paint and scraggly, used brushes. I was a little taken aback. I so rarely use normal, boring, non-magical paint. I was worried that using it would just make me feel worse about my brush still being on the fritz, but I was drawn to the naked canvases anyway. Fix-it sat at the table and watched as if he had put down food for a feral raccoon and wanted to give it space. Having him watch may have bothered me at one point in time, but he had done a genuinely pretty cool thing for me. I’d deal.

And let’s be real -- I am a feral raccoon.

It didn’t take me long to decide what to paint. The one thing that had been consistently on my mind: Revenge on Worluk. All in various gruesome ways. In one painting, I’d ripped her throat out with my teeth. In another, I crushed her with a giant fly swatter. The last one, which was my favorite, showed her dismembered and built into a chair that I was sitting on.

Fix-it said they were all beautiful, and they’d look so good on the shelf in the broom closet. I argued for a place in the kitchen, but no, he insisted that they’d look better in the closet.

As I worked, as I painted the gnarly details on that bug’s face, I couldn’t help but wonder what she had done for step two. What was her higher power? What could she possibly turn to for peace after what she had done to me? The Devs? Duty? Or are there just some things you can never make peace with? That is, if she even felt remorse for it at all. I couldn’t imagine a remorseful pixel in her body.

And then that led to me thinking, of course… What about me? What could ever really bring me peace? I knew for sure that I felt remorse. I definitely wished I had not gone down the path I did over the course of… well, ever since you left. I’d seen and done some really awful things. There was Tapper, there was that poor sap I threatened for a hit of GC, there was… everyone else I’d come in contact with, really. My actions had taken a darker turn than I’d ever gone down before, even in my past pits of depression. My mind was so haunted by then, I didn’t recognize it anymore. Relentless, nightmarish thoughts plagued me all the time. Trauma, guilt, hopelessness, existential questions without answers. Your death, and the blame I placed on myself. My Dev-given, meaningless lot in life. Hatred from what felt like the entire arcade over a crime I didn’t commit, enough to nearly get me killed. All this weighed down on me. It had trapped me. And the only escape I could ever see was in buffs. The thing that I felt the most fondness for, the thing that I had come to long for above all else, was a mind-numbing high. Buffs could save me from my mind, even if they ended up killing it in the process. 

That was my argument in favor of the addiction.

I had to find something, anything, that would bring a counter-argument strong enough to hold up. My guilt for hurting Tapper, while it was very deep and genuine, would only have so many legs to stand on. I even remembered my weird, buff-induced conversation with the river, wherein I realized I owed my own survival to you… and to myself. That had been a groundbreaking epiphany at the time. But it was not enough. I knew that.  Because I remembered what it felt like to be in the thick of my addiction, and I remembered how no one around me mattered anymore. Nothing I owed to anyone else would make a difference to me if I relapsed and fell back into that state of mind. Neither would anything I owed myself, certainly, not with my self-preservation offline. And in the face of all those facts... I was scared.

I didn’t feel safe. I felt like the floor beneath me could have broken at any moment, and I’d lose control again. I needed something to hold onto that could actually bear my weight, because I had become quite heavily burdened. But I had no idea what that thing could be.

It was so frustrating, nearly enough to bring me to tears as I painted. I kept remembering what Wreck-it told me when we fought, about how I didn’t actually want to get better, how I just wanted to keep using everybody, so there was no use helping me. That in particular stuck with me. I didn’t understand why at first. Maybe that was true when he said it. But it wasn’t anymore. 

I didn’t want to be miserable anymore. I didn’t want to be a plague on everyone around me, not really. I wanted to get better. But the means to do so felt like a cruel puzzle I couldn’t solve. Like a battle I had already lost.

Fix-it went to bed, but I stayed up into the night painting and pondering. Even after I was done, I took one of the paintings and began slowly and idly covering it with lazy patches of color. I did some serious soul-searching that night. I tried to harness whatever it was that drove me as a living being. Whatever it was, it must have been old. Older than my knowledge of the Devs, even. I tried to cast my mind back to my very first days and remember what inspired me then, before the Devs’ gospel tainted my life. But I couldn’t come up with anything substantial. Fun, mischief, laughter, all very important things, but no solid foundations for philosophies. Philosophies that could keep me away from substances, mind you.

It seemed hopeless. But I tried to relax with my painting. I took deep breaths and let the color flow, creating no image in particular. Just beautiful, abstract motions that felt self-soothing in the cleanest way I had attempted in a while. It really did feel great to have access to a full spectrum of color again, even if it was real, physical paint and not magical like mine. I so deeply missed having full functionality of my tools. All that time without it, I’d felt like I was hobbling around with a missing limb. I need my color. It’s just embedded in who I am. Always has been.

My very first coherent thoughts after being plugged in were about the color pulsing inside my code.

I froze.

Was that it?

Could that even work?

The force bigger than me, the deeper meaning to life, the one thing that had been with me since the very first second I remember entering consciousness… well, that was color. I see it and feel it in all things, and always have. It inspires me. It does guide my actions, in a sense. 

But color? It felt too obvious, almost. It was one of the most important things in the world to me. But could I really pull a philosophy out of it?

I felt cold, but not in a bad way -- more like a refreshing breeze on a sweaty day. But that breeze also felt hundreds of miles high, with me suspended on this one new idea that I had to strengthen before it could break. What if there was something even bigger than the Devs? Something that ignored games, roles, class, age, gender? Something that, if I played my cards right, could free me from the life I felt trapped in?

Something strong enough to weaponize against the Devs’ presence in my mind?

Even kill it for good?

I remember bursting into Fix-it’s room and scaring the bits out of him. I leapt onto his bed and stained the blanket with my paint-splattered hands.

“Color,” I said firmly.

Fix-it stammered, reaching to turn on the lamp. “Wha-- Wha-- What’s-- Mavy?”

“Color,” I repeated. “That’s my higher power. I think. The thing I believe in? I think it might be color.”

He was quiet for a second, his hands raised cautiously, his mouth open in hesitation to speak. “Mavy-- Mavy, settle down, now--” he said, not really registering my relatively controlled demeanor after my very aggressive entrance.

“Don’t tell me to settle down,” I told him. For some reason, I was shaking with adrenaline. I was so unsure. I wanted to be right, but I barely felt like I had an idea.

“Oh, it’s-- It’s just that last time you started goin’ on about color, you went and stabbed your hand with a fork, so, I just wanna make sure you’re not gonna--”

“Oh...” I said, the memories blowing up in my brain. “The kaleidoscope. In my dreams-- trips-- whatever-- the kaleidoscope… Me becoming color…”

I held my sticky wet glove to my forehead, my mind connecting more and more wires. Every thought and memory coming into my head was telling me that I was right. I stared past Fix-it, feeling my heart pound. “That can’t be a coincidence. There’s no way. That all has to mean something, right?”

“C-Color?” 

“Yes!” I jabbed him in the shoulder, at which he groaned in pain. “That’s it! My stupid higher power homework. I think I’ve got it!”

I heard him give vague and confused murmurs of encouragement as he sank back down to the pillows. “That’s great, Mavy, that’s wonderful… I’m so… so happy for you...” And he was out like a light, even with the light still on.

Whatever, I thought. Maybe he didn’t understand, but I… sort of did. That was what mattered.

The following night, though, I’d have to put that thought to the test. I went into my third session of counselling with a nervous sweat. I would have to explain my revelation to the group in words, when so much of it was just… how I felt. I’d been running through my speech again and again up until the moment I sat in that circle of chairs, and as I did, I began to doubt myself more and more. I don’t know anything about making solid philosophies, or if what I made could even be considered a philosophy. Maybe my idea was actually garbage, and they wouldn’t accept it. It was so vague. I hadn’t even worked out all the kinks in it yet. I just hoped I would understand it more as I said it out loud.

Stage fright has never been a problem for me. I’m a born performer. But this was not a performance. This was real life. I had trouble opening up like that even to you, and now here I was in a room with sprites I barely knew, including one who tried to kill me. I definitely didn’t like the idea of showing vulnerability in front of her. I didn’t want her to know anything about me.

But I knew the drill. Just deal with it.

When the turns eventually came to me, I introduced myself as an addict, and told everyone that I’d done some work on step two. There were a couple claps and nods.

“Except,” I told them, “I, uh, didn’t pick the Devs as my higher power. That’s not against the rules, is it?”

“No, no, of course not,” Clyde told me. “We have a few others here who also picked their own.”

“Charity,” someone said, waving slightly.

Another piped in, “Honor.”

Then, to my shock, the raspy voice of Worluk chimed in, with just about the most unexpected word I could think of.

“Friendship.”

Yeah. That threw me off. I tried not to raise my eyebrows so obviously at her, but I had to glance at least. I found her still not quite looking my way, but without a hint of shame in her body language. Who the hell was this chick?

I told myself to shake it off. The spotlight was on me, and I had no time to be tripped up by murderous mosquitoes. 

“What about you?” Clyde asked me. “Would you like to share?”

I swallowed. Now or never. “Sure. I picked, uh… color.”

Clyde’s featureless brows raised a bit, making my stomach clench in embarrassment. “Really? Well, that’s one we haven’t heard of before. What does color mean to you, Mavis?”

I looked out at the expectant faces. Except Worluk, who was still not looking, which I tried not to read into and just carry on. She could not ruin this for me. I had to be strong and confident, like I know I am. All I had to do was say a few words. It seemed like a simple thing to do, but I felt so damn seen, and I didn’t like it. I saw some impatient frowns from sprites who still didn’t want me there, I saw some eyes full of curiosity over what I’d say, but the rest just looked… neutral. Like I was just another part of the process. Like it didn’t matter to them either way if I fumbled or stuck the landing. 

Normally, I’d hate that. But in this context? It seemed to take so much pressure off. It wasn’t about them. It was my step to take, and they were just witnesses to it.

So I took a deep breath, and I just started talking.

“Color is… everything. I mean, it’s what I do, but it’s also who I am. Y’know, inside. Color is the first thing I remember from the moment I was plugged in. I don’t just see it, I feel it. And it’s… I mean, it’s in everything. Almost all of our games have color. That’s all we are at the end of the day, just blotches of color behind screens, and that’s… that’s kind of awesome, when you think about it. It’s something everyone has in common, no matter what game or role you’re programmed into. That makes things a bit simpler, y’know, to think of yourself not as a Good Guy or a Bad Guy or an Easter Egg, you’re just… a living splash of color.”

I wasn’t sure if I was actually making any sense, but to my surprise, I saw quite a few receptive faces even leaning in a bit to listen. They were intrigued, which was encouraging. So I took it a step further.

“As far as philosophies or things to live by, well… It just got me thinkin’ like... I’m an artist. And artists know that every color is useful. Any color can be mixed, or painted over, in any shade, in any shape. And usually…it takes a lot of different colors and shades to make a beautiful painting. So when you’ve been using the same color again and again, just monochrome, or even analogous, like I have… you’re not gonna be happy. There are so many things I’ve believed, so many things that I’ve thought to be absolute truths that have led me to take buffs. Like… I’ve never been into the whole Easter Egg thing. And I thought buffs were the only thing that could save me from that. But… maybe they’re not. Color, to me, feels like…”

I sighed, trying to pull the words out of myself. “...Flexibility. Possibility. An open mind, I guess. A new color is like a new way of thinking. And... there’s always another color. There’s always another way. And… y’know, it’s probably high time I started acting like it.”

There was silence for a moment. 

But then I saw smiles, and I heard claps, even some small words of encouragement. They were congratulating me and thanking me for sharing. Even some sprites that had given me standoffish looks before were giving me grudging nods.

I… did it. I did it right.

I could hardly believe it. I felt like I’d just spilled out some of my ugliest, most confusing guts, but they loved it.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. It was too heavy. I was too vulnerable. 

But all I could do was… grin.

“Mavis,” Clyde said, “thank you so much for sharing. That’s just fantastic to hear. You’re gonna do great things here -- and remember that even when you stumble, it’s that faith of yours that’s going to lift you back up again. You’re going to have to hold onto it from here on out. Don’t forget that.”

“Yeah,” I sighed so hard, it made me dizzy. “Yeah, of course.”

There was a bit more discussion, and the meeting carried on as usual, as if I hadn’t just done something incredible (for me, anyway). But I had a feeling I was going to have to get used to that. Bending myself in unnatural ways to reach this lofty goal of sobriety, and then carrying on as if everything was normal.

Because that was going to be the new normal, after all.

And my first night in that new normal, I tried to find ways to embody my colorful philosophy in whatever small way I could. I looked around at everyone in the circle, and I asked myself to examine the colors that each of them made me feel, beyond what I could see. Specifically Worluk, the one who had been giving me so much trouble, making me so much more nervous than I already was.

To me, she felt… like a toxic yellow. Barely touched with green. Just bright, garish, nauseating and impossible to ignore. While everyone else just blended into each other’s vague, muted tones. It became very apparent just how much I had been ignoring the rest of the group and honing in on her.

Surely, there was something I could do about that.

I wasn’t sure how effective it would be, but I dared to challenge myself with this: If I could not mute Worluk’s color in my mind, maybe I could at least let the rest of the group grow brighter.

[the--blackdahlia]

Giving Her Away (Mick x Reader)

Title: Giving Her Away

Prompt: Free Space

Summary: Sarah’s getting married and Mick isn’t handling it well.

Warnings: None really

AN: For @classicrockbingo​​

Things had not always been easy for the Mars family. Mick struggled with his disease, (Y/n) had lost her job and struggled to find a new one for awhile, not wanting to be seen as a parasite for her husband’s money, but honestly, the worst thing, in Mick’s eyes, was when Sarah grew up and started dating.

It started out with cute crushes on people at school, which turned into her hanging out with them and meeting boys that more resembled Tommy and Vince than anything. Mick about had a heart attack when she brought home her first boyfriend, who looked almost like the spitting image of a punk that worked at a liquor store who loved Kiss and hated authority.

Thankfully, he didn’t last long, even though the tears that Sarah shed over him were enough to make Mick feel bad for wishing they would break up already.

But Sarah was going to date, despite Mick’s best efforts. Tommy, Nikki, and Vince would tease him about it, but then Mick pointed out to Vince that he did have a daughter, Elizabeth, and he couldn’t wait for her to date someone just like her dad.

“Don’t say that,” Vince told him. “I don’t want Liz dating ever!”

“Exactly,” Mick told him. “If you two have daughters, do you want them to date someone like you? Someone like you from, let’s say for Tommy, 1983, and Nikki, 1986?”

“No,” The two answered in unison. They were living the clean and sober life now, trying to be a good example and all that shit. And they sure as hell didn’t want their kids dating someone like them from back in the day.

****

The years went by and Sarah went to college. She wanted to be a nurse practitioner, and she worked her ass off to do it. Mick was so proud of her when she got her degree and quickly found a job at a private practice in the hills. She was moving up in the world, something he always wanted for his kids. Because he didn’t want to watch any of them struggle like he had most of his life.

But then came the news he had been dreading. Sarah was dating again. She had put off most of her social life during college, which Mick saw as a blessing. She started dating a guy who worked at a Harley dealership. They really hit it off when she went to see about a motorcycle for Mick for Christmas.

“He’s a great guy,” Sarah told (Y/n) over lunch. “He’s sweet, and funny, and he’s really smart. And I really like him.”

“As long as he makes you happy, but I’m warning you, your uncles and Mick will be grilling him like he’s a piece of steak someone wants well done,” (Y/n) laughed. Sarah just smiled.

“I think they’ll like him,” Sarah told her mom. “BEcause I really do.”

****

The guy, his name was Jack, was charming. He really cared for Sarah, and that’s the impression all three of her “uncles” got from him when they talked to him. Mick still didn’t like him, but he saw how happy Jack made her, so he let it go.

And then, he proposed.

“My baby’s getting married!” (Y/n) had squealed and hugged her daughter, and Mick was in a daze. It felt like just yesterday, he was teaching her to ride a bike and bribing her with Toys R’ Us to get her to talk about why she was upset. And now, she was getting married and starting her own family.

It made him feel older than he already felt.

“This is going to sound really weird, but I kinda want Uncle Tommy, Uncle Vince, and Uncle Nikki to be my wedding party,” Sarah admitted. “I know I should have girls, but they’ve been apart of my life for as long as I can remember and…”

“I’ll do it!” Tommy called out, standing up with a laugh.

“Do I have to wear a dress?” Nikki asked.

“No?” Sarah looked over at him.

“Well, damn. I wanted to show off my legs,” Nikki laughed, making Vince smack his arm.

“We’d be honored,” Vince hugged Sarah, followed by Tommy and Nikki.

****

The preparations seemed to fly by, and before Mick knew it, him and the other three were getting dressed up in tuxes. Even though Tommy, Nikki, and Vince were in the bridal party, Mick had put a stop to them getting dressed with them.

“I can’t believe she’s getting married,” Mick sighed. “She’s only six.”

“She’s almost thirty,” Nikki pointed out. “And Jack’s a really good guy. I think out of all of her boyfriends, I like him the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mick smiled at them before they went to take pictures. The boys were in tuxes, but all their accessories matched the colors Sarah had picked for the wedding. They made their way down the aisle, and soon, Mick was walking Sarah towards the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. Mick got her to the end and she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you dad. I love you,” She smiled as she went to stand by her wedding party, and Mick had to fight back the tears as he went to sit by (Y/n).

“What is it?” (Y/n) asked her husband.

“She called me dad,” He whispered to her. (Y/n) gave him a hug as they settled to watch the ceremony.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo​ @dekahg​ @marvel-af-imagines​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @nanie5​ @imboredsueme​ @gemini0410​ @aiaranradnay​ @babypink224221​ @mogarukes​ @xxwarhawk​ @sandlee44​ @shatteredabby​ @caswinchester2000​ @supernaturalwincestsblog​ @lauravic​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​ @teller258316​ @horrorpxnk​ @tommyleeownsme​ @marvelismylifffe​

Motley Crue Tags:  @primal-screamer​ @waywardprincess666​ @twistnet​ @saint-of-los-angeles​ @vader-kai​ @motleyfuckingcruee​ @sharon6713​ @kawennote09​ @2dead2function​ @nikkisixxwiththebass​ @iamtiber-andtiberismusic​ @jayprettymuchomw​ @charlyallise​ @you-know-im-a-dreamer​ @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings​ @estxxmotley​ @arianareirg​ @the-normal-potato​ @nikki-sixxtynine​ @jjjjjjjoshdun​ @just-a-normal-fangirl18​ @stella20131991​ @tarahell​ @wowilovenikkisixx​ @i-want-to-shoot-myself​ @motleycrueee​ @sams-serialkiller-fetish​ @getbackhonkycatt​ @are-you-reddie54321​ @flamencodiva​ @useyourillusion​ @scarecrowmax​ @major-tom-is-a-junky​ @anyasthoughts​ @bandaids-not-groupies​ @ilovetomkeiferslips​ @kaitieskidmore1​

Mick Mars Tags: @deakysblueoutfit​

[a-kayy47]

Learning to live:Chapter 2

So what brings you and the rugrats to Charming?" Tig asked. I knew he wasn't really intrested, he just wanted to know if I was going to be trouble, I won't but my ex might be. "Well, I got tired of my kids sperm donor cheating on me and being a junkie. After 7 years of it, it gets old" I said looking down at my feet and taking deep drags of my cigarette. "Why didn't you leave sooner lass?" Brit's ol'man asked.

"Honestly, I didn't think I deserved better or would ever find anyone who would ever want me." I answered still looking down.

"Fuck that prick! You deserve better babe. You're a damn good momma, you work every fucking day and never do anything for yourself, shit whens the last time you've actually had fun?" Brit asked me.

"Umm...Like real fun? Probably the last party I went to at Uncle Tom's clubhouse when I got arrested." I said looking up with a shit eating grin on my face.

"I wouldn't say getting arrested is fun." A bigger guy with glasses piped in as he walked up to us.

"That's because you've never been arrested with this bitch!" Brit said. "I remember it like it was yesterday. We was 16 and ate shrooms for the first time. And for some reason we thought it would be fun to get payback at some fucking blonde bitch for calling us biker whores and shit so we stole her car and pushed it into the lake!" Britni said laughing reminiscing on the memory. "You pushed a car in a lake and didnt get jail time?" The bigger guy asked again. "Oh that's not why we got arrested!" I said laughing. "Miss let's sneak into the local bar and dance naked on the bar is what got us arrested!" Britni told them still laughing uncontrollably at the memory.

"Yeah, I got public indecency and underage intoxication." I told them "You also tried to blow the cop to get him to let you go!" Britni reminded me. "Fuck, I forgot about that! Hey, at least he was attractive!" I said laughing "Dude he was twice your age!" She replied.

"We used to have so much fun. I miss it so much, all these fuckers want to do is drink till they pass out or bury their face in pussy!" Brit said putting her arm over my shoulder and squeezing.

"Well I haven't had sex since I got pregnant with Rayne and I haven't drank till I passed out since I was 18 so I'm not much fun anymore."

"Well we'll just have to change that! You're a hot peice of ass babe! You gotta get laid!" Brit said smacking my ass.

"Wait, did you just say you haven't had sex since you got pregnant with your girl..shes what like 5?" Tig asked with wide eyes.

"Yepp, she'll be 6 in September."

"But, you're like super hot!" The bigger guy said.

"Well thanks, I'm sorry I didnt catch your name."

"Phil." He told me.

"Well thank you Phil. But a lot of people dont think so, including myself. I still have baby weight to loose and it's been almost 6 years so." I said with a little chuckle.

•Happy's POV•

This chick was crazy! Staying with a dude for 7 years getting cheated on all because she didnt think anybody would want her! And not having sex in 5 years but knowing her boyfriend was out fucking anything with two sets of lips. She deserved better! The sparkle in her eye and the way she laughed while remembering all the fun her and Britni used to have warmed my heart even though I'd never tell anyone that. Everyone deserves to blow off some steam every now and then. Hell if I didnt get too I'd loose my fucking mind! And what the hell was she talking about no one wanting her, fuck I'd take her to my dorm and have my way with her right now! She was perfect! Beautiful face, tattoos lining her arms and hands, long thick black hair that I wanted to wrap my hands in, nice full chest that you could definitely tell was real the way they bounced when she laughed. Light skin with a slight olive undertone, a nice waist with a little belly from having kids, wide child bearing hips with a nice plump ass to match. She was bigger than the girls around here but shit that's what I liked something I could be rough with in bed and not worrying about breaking her. She may be bigger but you could tell she worked out, her ass was nice and firm but still had that fantastic bounce when she walked I could only imagine what it would look like bouncing on my dick. I wanted to find the fucker that ever treated her wrong and make him regret every single time he put his hands on her.

I remembered seeing her at the gas station and couldn't get those beautiful green eyes and plump lips out of his head then to see her pull up her and find out she's staying. By the time it was all said in done I'd have this women and she'd never remember that prick.

●○●○

"Shut the hell up girl! I know you workout everyday!" Brit said pushing my shoulder. "Not everyday, and now I wont be able to since I don't have anywhere to keep up my boxing lessons." I said looking over to check on the kids.

"Happy boxes, he could teach ya a little." Tig said grinning at Happy.

"I'm sure he's busy with other things. I'll just have to stick to walking or jogging then the kids can tag along."I said shrugging it off.

"Be out here tomorrow morning at 8." Happy said which shocked all of us.

"I'll be there, Thanks." I said shyly.

"Alright let's go get you and the kids settled in. I'm sure you have a busy day tomorrow." Britni said breaking the conversation.

"God yes, I have to get the kids enrolled in school and look for a salon and see if they're hiring." I said exhausted just thinking about it.

"Well the school thing I can help with, Tara, Jax' ol'lady can help with that she just enrolled Thomas their youngest. And as for a salon there is only one and it's a barber shop most women go to Oakland to get their hair done but he's a good friend and with some talking to should give you a booth. I know the ladies would love a hairstylist closer home." Britni said filling me in.

●○●○●

After about a 10-minute drive from the TM we arrived at Britni's apartment.  The kids were beyond excited to get settled in somewhere for more than a night, and I couldn’t blame them in all honesty I was too. Brit pulled her Camaro into the garage and I parked by the sidewalk that lead to her  “apartment” as she called it, to me it was just a small house. She walked up to the car and immediately started helping me get things out. The kids had already jumped out and were sitting on the steps that lead up to the porch.

“Just get what ya’ll need tonight and I’ll send someone over tomorrow to help you unload the rest?” She stated opening the back hatch.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that I can get it. I packed it myself.” I replied with a chuckle.

“Don’t argue! Anyways if I didn’t send someone to help Gemma would have my head.” She said with an eye roll.

“Is someone afraid of this Gemma?” I asked with a smirk.

“We all are.” She answered flatly. “Wait till YOU meet her! I’m sure you’ll give her a run for her money!” She said with that smirk of hers that I knew meant trouble.

“Great! Can’t wait!” I said sarcastically grabbing the kids’ bags.

Brit grabbed my bag and led me to the door, unlocking it and entering the house. She had a nice place. As soon as you walked in the door you entered the living room, which she had painted a dark gray with a black leather couch and recliner on one side and a big flat screen TV on the other. The living room led into the kitchen, which had a small island in the middle of both rooms, it was simple black and gray just like Brit. I noticed that there was a door on each side of the living room, which I was guessing was the two bedrooms.

The kids hurried inside and stretched out on the couch and turned on the TV making them selves a home right away. I followed Brit to the door that was on the right side of the living room.

“It’s not much but its better than where you was.” Brit said as she walked in the room and flipped on the light.

 “Anything was better than that! I’ll never be able to repay you, you know that right!” I told her in all seriousness.

“Shut your mouth, you and those babies are all the family I have left, if something would have happened to you I would of lost my mind. I just wish I could have got you out sooner, before the beatings started.” She said low.

“How did you know about that?” I asked looking down at my feet.

“Let’s just say Jamie called me every time you was in the hospital.” She told me.

That boy, I swear he might be quit and keep to himself but he never misses a thing.

“Annie, why didn’t you call me sooner? I would have got you out. I have a whole MC that would have backed me!” She said grabbing me by the shoulders and making me look her in the eyes.

“I was scared, you don’t know how many times I tried, I tried so fucking hard but I could never do it.” I said starting to cry.

“After the last time he put me in the hospital I was done. He really did a number on me that time.” I said lifting up the bottom of my shorts and showing her a scar that went 8 inches across my upper thigh.

“What the fuck Annie!” She asked running her fingers across the scar.

“My shorts were to short for a “Fat Bitch” to wear so he decided that he need to make a permanent mark to show me that my shorts had to be below that line.”

“This is the first time I’ve wore shorts in two years.”

I told her still looking at my feet.

“Babe you are worth so much more than that. Why didn’t you tell me what was happening?” She asked me again.

“I was embarrassed. I was such a strong person before I got with him I didn’t take shit from anyone let alone a man. Then I got with him and it was like I was trapped. I was scared to leave because if he ever found me I was sure he would kill me, and I couldn’t do that to the kids. That’s why I came here, I knew if he finds me here and kills me at least they had you to protect them. I cant let him get my babies..he would destroy them. They’re so innocent and sweet and have such a big heart and he’s so evil he would ruin them.” I rambled to her.

“I’m so sorry Annie, but know you are safe here YOU and those kids. Neither the MC nor me will let anything happen to you. And I promise you we will get the old Annie back! Now lets get you all settled in, you have a busy day tomorrow.” Britni said giving me a longing hug.

We walked out to the living room to see both kids passed out on the couch. I grabbed their blankets from their bag and cover both of them up and them a kiss on the forehead before I went to get ready to go to sleep myself. Britt went over and locked the door “Don’t worry only people that has a key is Chibs and Happy and they shouldn’t be by tonight.” She reassured me. I gave her a nod and told her good night. I went to my room and took off my clothes to change into a big-oversized Harley Davidson shirt and pair panties. I checked my purse for the 9mm that I picked up before we left West Virginia from an old friend. I made sure the mag was filled and out of the gun and laid both in the draw in the nightstand by the bed. The only thing that was going to help me sleep at night is knowing I had something to protect my babies! I laid in bed thinking about everything I had to do tomorrow and drifted off to sleep.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Questions for HSM III (Part VIII)

Caption: “I’m just about to dump my boyfriend over the phone! Hope my tears look genuine!”

Get out your flashlights, for we are in the abyss.

On The Dumping

1- What to say, folks? I’m clutching a bottle of wine and weeping in rage at my laptop. Once again, Troy walks into this new sinkhole with an innocent smile, just as he did earlier. He’s bought the prom outfit and proudly shows it off to his mother. 

I have to highlight these little details just so you get a picture of how cruel Gabriella’s next actions are. Remember, he bought two tickets, tried out some suits, inexplicably needed Gabriella to choose a suit, inexplicably practiced waltzing during school hours, let her leave for California with a belly full of undeserved pizza and strawberries, reminded her of their prom date, kept in contact with her during her absence, spent his own money on a prom suit, got his mother to order a corsage and was now eagerly anticipating the return of his girlfriend for a special night together. Remember that he has missed her terribly all the time she has been away, and so wishes to see her again. Remember that like any other high school student, this prom is a special occasion for him, for his friends and for their class. 

I honestly cannot bear to watch this scene, but I willingly undergo this torture so that you don’t have to. Can we really believe that Troy, after being lied to, laughed at and let down by Gabriella on numerous occasions, seriously believed that she would come through for him this time? He is so impervious to her faults, it’s downright worrying. 

2- “We need to talk.”

This, people, is how you greet your boyfriend. I don’t know what terrible affliction the scriptwriter suffered when he churned out this line-- why he thought this was even remotely a good idea when trying to sell the Troyella train-wreck as a viable relationship, but there you have it. No greeting, no asking after Troy’s well-being, not even a gentle let-down. Remember when I wondered about whether Gabriella had said anything more interesting to Troy other than discussing the food at Stanford? I think we have our answer here. 

“I can’t be a little adult right now, Troy. I’m hoping you understand that.”

Of course, after greeting your boyfriend like he’s someone you met off the street, you now ask for his understanding. Please notice the sheer audacity of Gabriella asking Troy to “understand” yet more of her selfish behaviour when he has done nothing but understand, understand, understand throughout this entire movie series! There is nothing she has done that he hasn’t understood. When she dumped him over the summer, he understood. When she refused to tell him about her scholarship, he understood. When she dashed out of town without telling him, he understood. What more does he need to understand?!

As for her failure to be an adult, well I can certainly understand that. From the Honor Roll Student who acts like a kindergartener, sincerely to Troy Bolton. Me, myself and I. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

Again, I’d really love to hear Mrs. Bolton’s take on her son’s girlfriend dumping him over the phone. The disappointment and concern on her face is one of the reasons I struggle to stomach this scene. After the money she spent on a corsage, and seeing her son practically bouncing off the walls in excitement, surely she must have been disappointed? Or is she a Troyella junkie like the rest? She did seem to enjoy their performance of “Just Wanna Be With You” much later, but still. Answers?

Ladies and Gentlemen, Chad Danforth looks concerned! Let’s have a big round of applause!

“Gabriella, prom is in two days! You’re supposed to be on a plane right now!”

Troy making the same mistake a million more times: trying to reason with Gabriella, trying to remind her of reality. How many more times will he persist in this before recognizing that it DOES NOT WORK? That she literally will not consider any other viewpoint except her own? That from her brisk and detached tone of voice, she had already made up her mind before calling him? That she doesn’t believe in making decisions together, despite having extolled the virtues of working together earlier, despite having condescended to Troy about the value of keeping promises, despite being quick to jump on any imperfection of his and use it to demean and mock him? 

“It’s taken me two weeks to get used to being away from you. From East High and all my friends.”

And? I honestly don’t care. Quite apart from the fact that she was smiling to herself before phoning up to drop-kick Troy once again, she makes no mention of Troy’s feelings, which makes me certain that she never asked about them during their other phonecalls. Because all her genius friends and the food at Stanford was far more pressing news. We are also supposed to believe that Gabriella would need to get used to being away from Troy, when she quite happily dumped him over the summer, drove off in her mother’s car and had no intention of reuniting until Taylor dragged her back. She can’t have it both ways; all her behaviour indicates that she is willing to abandon him when it suits her, so where’s this sudden difficulty to adjust coming from? When, during the course of this movie, did she ever make it clear that she valued his presence? 

“I know! I know.”

Because Troy understands. Again. 

“So what I come back, go to prom and leave again? And then it’s graduation, I leave again.”

I hope you can hear this. Actually, I hope you can’t, because it is an assault on the ears. Remember, this is the same girl whom Troy begged to attend Stanford, now claiming that she really needs to stay at Stanford! Honestly, her needs change with the times! What happened to all the stability required earlier, the fear of life going “full speed ahead”?

More importantly, no mention of the musical. It was supposed to be prom, musical and then graduation. According to Gabriella, it’s prom and then graduation. In other words, she isn’t coming for the musical. In other words, she has wasted Kelsi’s time, despite having said that Kelsi was “right” about the musical. She has wasted Ryan’s time, Ms Darbus’ time, her friend’s time (although she whines about the pain of being away from them), the Drama Department’s time, the school’s time, and most importantly, Troy’s time. 

Why didn’t Troy remind her about the musical right there and then? 

And what nonsense in the second sentence: after graduation, EVERYONE will be leaving East High. Not just her. So how does that inevitable fact justify not turning up for such an important event in the school year? I thought she was missing her friends-- did she not wish to spend time with them one final time before setting off for college? She said she was missing East High, she said that the food was better there. So fricking come back, then! The logic here, people, is that it’s too painful for her to return to experience things that she struggles to stay away from. Decipher this if you can, because I’m beat with this girl and her half-assed logic. 

“That was our plan.”

More fool you, Troy. In Troyella, there’s no such thing as “we/our/us”. 

“I don’t think I can do it, Troy. I think I’ve run out of goodbyes.”

Just to be clear folks: she can’t come back to honour the commitments she made, to spend time with her boyfriend, to demonstrate that their relationship means something to her, to show respect to Kelsi and Ryan for their time and hard work, to see her friends and East High. 

Because reasons. 

I mean, there’s nothing more to be said for this ludicrous line. As for her “run out of goodbyes”, I’m not in the slightest bit interested. I’m pretty sure that she’s still in contact with Taylor and her mother, who would have been spoken to with a great deal more respect than how she speaks to Troy right now. Her mother has a decent job; if Gabriella wanted to fly back, she could do so, no trouble. This claim is nothing but an excuse to justify the cruelest act in this movie, the cinematic equivalent of dropping someone into the Marianas Trench. Would it be fair to say that she cobbled together this “explanation” off the top of her head moments before calling? Because that’s what it sounds like. 

“Why do you keep saying goodbye?”

Troy, what is the point in asking this? Literally, do you have any hope of getting a straight, non-bullshit answer? 

“I love you, Wildcat. But I need to stay right where I am.”

And there you have it, folks. Relationship goals or what?

First of all, the only ever times that Gabriella calls Troy “Wildcat” is when she’s calling him crazy, or showing some rare happiness at his sporting achievements. To use it in conjunction with love is as jarring and unnatural as it sounds. 

More importantly, Gabriella does not love Troy by any meaningful stretch of the imagination. Certainly not by the dictionary definition of love, which, for future reference Gabriella, is described thus: “to have a great affection for”. At no point during any of the canonical movies has she demonstrated this, and the fact that she can phone him up and provide another soliloquy of nonsense to justify her own feelings is glaring evidence thereof. Troy has received more love from the giggling cheerleaders than he has from his own girlfriend. He’s received more love from the ungrateful and disloyal Wildcats than he has from his own girlfriend. He’s received more love from his beloved trees than he has from his own girlfriend. This is a fatuous claim designed as a pat on the back after having thrown Troy overboard.

Oh-- and suddenly Gabriella knows what she needs! Well, how wonderful. We were beginning to wonder. Yes, she needs to stay right where she is and not bother Troy again, so that he can live his life in peace and find another girl who actually cares about him, loves him, treats him like a man and values his existence. Yes, Gabriella, please stay away! 

"I’m sorry.”

With plenty of offence intended, fuck you. 

I’ll be back tomorrow. 

[arosegardenofstories-blog]

Project Churchill 3

Hey guys here’s chapter 3.  I’m planing on releasing chapters every Friday and posting videos every other Friday to address your comments or questions.  I Hope you guys like it.    

Chapter 3

"Seriously?" I asked him.  “What the hell made you think you could just break into my house?” He tilted his head toward the light, feigning a look of innocence. “Well,” he pressed his hands together, “I figured I could save you some time.”   I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose.  “James,” I say “You aren’t paying me anywhere near the amount you should be for me to be risking my life like I am; let alone having the nerve to break into my house when you please.” “We can discuss payment, as I think I have everything I need.” He paused, “Can I see the pictures you took this morning?” “Yeah just let me hook my camera up to my laptop.” I walked over to the desk and signed into my laptop, and pulled the camera out of my bag.  I could feel James come stand behind me as I inserted the cord into the USB port.  I opened the file of  pictures as James leans down to look at the screen over my shoulder; letting him look through all of them while he decided what which ones he wanted to keep. “You know Minna, you’re really good at what you do.  Did you ever consider photography?”   “No, solving crimes is practically engraved into my DNA.” I retorted dryly. “Even the petty ones?” I nodded, “Especially those.” We continued to flip through until he told me which ones to print.  As he walked over to the printer he asked, “Now, about your final payment…” “You know the rules James.”  I turned in my office chair to face him.  “I charge $500 upfront and the rest I’m paid by the hour and expenses, and honestly, I think today was pretty high on expenses.” “How much are we talking about?” “I think you would consider a thirty percent increase from the total wouldn’t be unreasonable.” I watched as his right eyebrow cocked up.  “Thirty?” “Life is a hard expense James,” I said coldly “It’s irreplaceable and today I almost lost mine just so you could get your blackmail material.” “True enough.  How about twenty percent that’s more than fair.” “Twenty-five.” “Twenty-three.” “Twenty-seven.  And I won’t settle for less.  You don’t get to wake me up at three o’clock in the morning, have me risk my life, and break into my house all in one day for twenty percent.” “Fine consider it done.” I watched as he effortlessly walked toward my desk and sat on the opposite side.  I reached down to one of the draws and pulled out his hanging folder and placed it on the desk.  I went through it and find the payment agreement he signed and my recites for all my expenses, along with the normal pay stub.  I quickly factored in the twenty-seven percent increase and pushed the documents toward him.   “Here are the documents we agreed on and the total cost of everything, including the twenty-seven percent bonus.”  I circled all the import information as he pulls out his checkbook.   “Make it out to Lina Anderson.” He looks up at me questioning, “I don’t like to have any connection to my clients after a job.” I explain. He nodded and went back to writing. He finishes looking down. “That’s a lot of zeros.” “And it’s worth every dime.”   I said as I took the check from his outstretched hand.   I looked through the folder and pull out the NDA I have all my clients sign at the end of a job.  “You can either sign this now or have your lawyer look over it and send it to me latter.  Its just a basic NDA saying that you won’t expose anything confidential about my business and the business we shared during the job.” “Isn’t that being a little paranoid?” “I like to be safe rather than sorry.” He sighed as he scrawls his name and initials onto the document.  Pushing it toward me he stood,  hand poised to shake mine; I took it firmly. “It’s been a pleasure Ms. Churchill.” “Same to you Mr. Easton, for the most part.” I walked him to the door and watch as he walks down the street and turns the corner leading him out of my life.  I closed the door and lean on it, letting the lack of adrenaline come over me.  I dragged myself up the stairs and flopped on my bed.  Another case closed, another nap calling my name.

I woke up to a cacophony of distinct but distorted sounds.  I could hear my phone ringing next to my ear, someone banging on the door, and someone possibly Maurice, the neighborhood junkie, wailing outside.  God,  why can’t people just leave me alone today.  I stretched my arm out to grab my phone and saw that the time read 12:30 and that Chloe was calling me.  Hell that’s the longest I’ve slept in a long time. I answered, clearing my throat, trying to get the sense of sleepiness out of my voice. “Hello?” I gruffed. Chloe responded with her normal bubbly, “Hey Mimi!” I rolled my eyes at the childhood nickname. “What’s up?” I asked as I walked down the steps to get the door. “Are we still on for today?”  Her question made me pause on the steps. “On for what?” “It’s Friday silly.  Remember we’re supposed to do lunch, the mall, a sleepover, the works!” “Oh yeah,” I say as I continued down the steps, crossing across the room to the door. “You won’t believe what happened to me on the last job.”  I started to open the door not bothering to look through the peep hole; knowing that it’s probably Maurice coming to ask me to point him in the direction of his house....again.  I opened the door to find Glinda Easton in all her glory, and her trusty sidekick John as Chloe excitedly exclaims, “Oooh spill!” As I try to close the door John pushes his hand against it, forcing it to stay open. “Um Chlo, Imma have to call you back.”

My heart was racing as I sat in my office chair across from Glinda and John was standing guard at the door.  I tried to get my breathing under control.  I raised my head to speak. “How did you find me?” My voice came out more breathy than I wanted it too.   Glinda crossed her right leg over the left.  She looked elegant in her ivory colored tailored pant suit.  Her posture was perfect as she straightened her jacket. “Well dear,” she cooed “you don’t necessarily drive a popular car.  And of course John got your license plate.  After that it was only a matter of tracking you through the DMV.” I briefly turned to look at John, wondering if I could out run him to the backdoor of the house.  The sound of Glinda’s voice caused me to turn back around. “Don’t think about escape.  John’s brother Rob is at the backdoor.” Damn.  If one thing is for sure, Glinda Easton knew how to do security. “What do you want?” I asked impatiently.  Seriously I’m getting tired of everyone interrupting my day.   I watched as Glinda tilted her face into the light.  I noticed that her face looks unnaturally smooth for a woman of her age, she’s definitely had some work done; and a lot of it by the looks of her face. “Minna you and I are both smart capable women; let’s not waste time by running about the bush. “Fine,” I retorted “I’ll bite.  You’re mad that I caught you and your lover boy in the parking garage.” Glinda smiled.  “I knew you were a smart girl.” “But what do you want?” “Isn’t it obvious?” she paused “I want you to give me the reaming photos you have and delete the digital copies.” “I can’t.” “Excuse me?” She looked surprised. “I gave the print copies to your husband and I can’t give you the digital copies.” “Can’t or won’t?” “Both.  I’ve signed an NDA with your husband explaining that I won’t share any of the photos with anyone other than him.  So even if I wanted to give them to you I can’t.” “But I’m his wife. Surely there’s something that can be done to-” “From my understanding  Glinda, your marriage with James is over and you’re the only one refusing to sign the divorce papers.  Why because you’re prenup will leave you in the middle class with the rest of us instead of the polished throne you’re used to?” I watched Glinda’s mouth as she tried to form words.  Her lips moved but no sound comes out.  From the looks of it she didn’t think I know how to do my job thoroughly.   “Did you really James wouldn’t disclose the full details of your relationships?” “No.” Glinda cried, her voice returning to her.  “But I-” "James provided me with everything, before taking this case."I reach down into one of the draws to get the Easton file.  I heard John rush forward trying to stop me.  I turn my chair towards him. “Relax Hercules.” I ordered. “I’m just getting a file to show Her Majesty.” I pulled the file out the draw, and pushed it toward her.   “The top is a summary of the prenup between you and James.” I looked at Glinda as she read. “I have a question for you Glinda.  Why ruin a perfectly good marriage for a boy that’s young enough to be your son?”   She looked up through her lashes. “James and I have always had different tastes especially in old age.  I needed something new.” “And you thought that Liam would be enough to spice things up?” I thought about her motives for this whole affair while she looks at the invisible hole between her feet.  This woman ruined her marriage for a man, who honestly still qualifies as a boy just to spice up her marriage?  That didn’t make sense.  I thought about the possibilities.  Maybe she wanted revenge for something James did, maybe she was looking for an excuse to end her marriage, and maybe and most likely, she has some type of fetish for younger men.  A sudden thought strikes me and I realize that I don’t care either way.  I want her out of my house and for everyone else to leave me alone today.   “Glinda,” I said; pulling her out of her imagination, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” “Not until I get what I came for.” This whole day has been a pain in the ass.  I’ve had terrible nightmares,  had to work before day break, have been shot at, and had my house broken into.  I’m really not in the mood for this.  I stood up, towering over Glinda, hoping to play out the difference of the power levels between us correctly. “Glinda, I don’t have the energy for this.  I need you and your sidekicks to get out of my house and leave me alone. Now.” “Fine.” I watched her as she picked up her purse and strode over to John.  Turning over her shoulder she said, “This isn’t over Churchill.” “Actually, Glinda I think it is.  You are one of the forefront minds in psychology correct?”  She paused at the door, clutching her purse to her chest.   “What does that have to do with-” “Glinda, I may not be on good terms with Baltimore City Police right now, but they do owe me a couple of favors.” “What are you-” “I’m sure they would love to see the bank records, videos, and pictures of you and your patients.  Especially the pictures.” She moved her lips, looking like a gaping fish while trying to form the right words. “I take it that you won’t be coming around here again, and James won’t have any trouble finalizing the divorce papers?” She nodded and turned to John.  He opened the door for her and followed behind her; leaving my door still open.  I walk over and close it and tried to pull myself together before Chloe came to pick me up.