#Sick men still feel entitled to a girlfriend

[coochiequeens]

Finally a peice that talks about how 5 of the 6 in the people killed in the sydney stabbings were women. And yes he was mentally ill but he felt entitled to a girlfriend.

By Victoria Smith 16 April, 2024

Did Joel Cauchi, the man who killed six people in a Sydney shopping centre, do so because he was mentally ill? Or did he do it because he hated women?

Five out of six of Cauchi’s victims were women, which does seem targeted. Nonetheless, according to his family, Cauchi, 40, “battled with mental health issues since he was a teenager”. For this reason, some have found talk of misogyny unseemly, if not exploitative. To categorise Cauchi’s act as male violence against women, if not terrorism underpinned by misogynist ideology, can be appear dismissive of genuine sickness. Sometimes, bad things just happen because people are unwell. 

For women who live with men who have severe mental health diagnoses, there is little comfort in discussions such as these. On the one hand, there is an enormous amount of pressure to downplay the idea that mentally ill men are more likely to be violent than other men (they are, but to say so is viewed as contributing to stigma). On the other hand, is it fair for a man with severe mental illness to be judged by the same moral standards as other men? Shouldn’t we be recognising that they cannot control their perceptions and fears?

See rest of article

The Sydney attacker was desperate for a girlfriend, his family has revealed as police confirmed that he had targeted women.

Joel Cauchi killed five women and one man during a knife attack on the Bondi Junction Westfield shopping centre on Saturday.

Karen Webb, the New South Wales police commissioner, said: “The videos speak for themselves. It’s obvious the offender had focused on women and avoided the men.”

The majority of the 12 people Cauchi seriously wounded were female, including a baby girl.

Andrew Cauchi, his father, said on Monday he knew why his mentally unwell son had targeted women. The 76-year-old told reporters outside his home in Queensland: “Because he wanted a girlfriend and he’s got no social skills and he was frustrated out of his brain.”

Describing his son as “very sick”, he described trying to deal with the feelings of “loving a monster”.

A “heroic” policewoman who stopped a lone knifeman mid-rampage during a killing spree in a Sydney shopping centre has been named.

In one of several heroic attempts to disarm the attacker on Saturday, Amy Scott, a NSW Police Inspector, walked up calmly behind the attacker and ordered him to drop his weapon.

When he refused to do so and lunged at her with a knife, she shot him.

Six people were killed after the culprit – later identified by police as Queensland man Joel Cauchi – went on a stabbing spree in Westfield Bondi Junction, including a mother whose baby is reportedly now in a critical condition.

“She is certainly a hero. There is no doubt that she saved lives through her action,” Anthony Albanese, the Australian prime minister, said on Saturday.

#Joel Cauchi #Sick men still feel entitled to a girlfriend #male violence #Mentally ill men can be dangerous #bondi junction #New South Wales #Rest In Peace the baby’s mother Ashlee Good age 38 #Rest In Peace architect Jade Young age 47 #Rest In Peace artist Pikria Darchia age 55 #Rest In Peace 27-year-old economics student Yixuan Cheng #Rest In Peace Dawn Singleton age 25 who was looking forward to her upcoming wedding #Rest In Peace Faraz Tahir age 30 who died a hero #Even the Cauchi family recognizes that NSW police inspector Amy Scott did the right thing

[puttingherinhistory]

“Covid has unleashed the most severe setback to women’s liberation in my lifetime. While watching this happen, I have started to think we are witnessing an outbreak of disaster patriarchy.

Naomi Klein was the first to identify “disaster capitalism”, when capitalists use a disaster to impose measures they couldn’t possibly get away with in normal times, generating more profit for themselves. Disaster patriarchy is a parallel and complementary process, where men exploit a crisis to reassert control and dominance, and rapidly erase hard-earned women’s rights. (The term “racialized disaster patriarchy” was used by Rachel E Luft in writing about an intersectional model for understanding disaster 10 years after Hurricane Katrina.) All over the world, patriarchy has taken full advantage of the virus to reclaim power – on the one hand, escalating the danger and violence to women, and on the other, stepping in as their supposed controller and protector.

I have spent months interviewing activists and grassroots leaders around the world, from Kenya to France to India, to find out how this process is affecting them, and how they are fighting back. In very different contexts, five key factors come up again and again. In disaster patriarchy, women lose their safety, their economic power, their autonomy, their education, and they are pushed on to the frontlines, unprotected, to be sacrificed. 

Part of me hesitates to use the word “patriarchy”, because some people feel confused by it, and others feel it’s archaic. I have tried to imagine a newer, more contemporary phrase for it, but I have watched how we keep changing language, updating and modernising our descriptions in an attempt to meet the horror of the moment. I think, for example, of all the names we have given to the act of women being beaten by their partner. First, it was battery, then domestic violence, then intimate partner violence, and most recently intimate terrorism. We are forever doing the painstaking work of refining and illuminating, rather than insisting the patriarchs work harder to deepen their understanding of a system that is eviscerating the planet. So, I’m sticking with the word. 

In this devastating time of Covid we have seen an explosion of violence towards women, whether they are cisgender or gender-diverse. Intimate terrorism in lockdown has turned the home into a kind of torture chamber for millions of women. We have seen the spread of revenge porn as lockdown has pushed the world online; such digital sexual abuse is now central to domestic violence as intimate partners threaten to share sexually explicit images without victims’ consent. 

The conditions of lockdown – confinement, economic insecurity, fear of illness, excess of alcohol – were a perfect storm for abuse. It is hard to determine what is more disturbing: the fact that in 2021 thousands of men still feel willing and entitled to control, torture and beat their wives, girlfriends and children, or that no government appears to have thought about this in their planning for lockdown. 

In Peru, hundreds of women and girls have gone missing since lockdown was imposed, and are feared dead. According to official figures reported by Al Jazeera, 606 girls and 309 women went missing between 16 March and 30 June last year. Worldwide, the closure of schools has increased the likelihood of various forms of violence. The US Rape Abuse and Incest National Network says its helpline for survivors of sexual assault has never been in such demand in its 26-year history, as children are locked in with abusers with no ability to alert their teachers or friends. In Italy, calls to the national anti-violence toll-free number increased by 73% between 1 March and 16 April 2020, according to the activist Luisa Rizzitelli. In Mexico, emergency call handlers received the highest number of calls in the country’s history, and the number of women who sought domestic violence shelters quadrupled. 

To add outrage to outrage, many governments reduced funding for these shelters at the exact moment they were most needed. This seems to be true throughout Europe. In the UK, providers told Human Rights Watch that the Covid-19 crisis has exacerbated a lack of access to services for migrant and Black, Asian and minority ethnic women. The organisations working with these communities say that persistent inequality leads to additional difficulties in accessing services such as education, healthcare and disaster relief remotely. 

In the US, more than 5 million women’s jobs were lost between the start of the pandemic and November 2020. Because much of women’s work requires physical contact with the public – restaurants, stores, childcare, healthcare settings – theirs were some of the first to go. Those who were able to keep their jobs were often frontline workers whose positions have put them in great danger; some 77% of hospital workers and 74% percent of school staff are women. Even then, the lack of childcare options left many women unable to return to their jobs. Having children does not have this effect for men. The rate of unemployment for Black and Latina women was higher before the virus, and now it is even worse. 

The situation is more severe for women in other parts of the world. Shabnam Hashmi, a leading women’s activist from India, tells me that by April 2020 a staggering 39.5% of women there had lost their jobs. “Work from home is very taxing on women as their personal space has disappeared, and workload increased threefold,” Hashmi says. In Italy, existing inequalities have been amplified by the health emergency. Rizzitelli points out that women already face lower employment, poorer salaries and more precarious contracts, and are rarely employed in “safe” corporate roles; they have been the first to suffer the effects of the crisis. “Pre-existing economic, social, racial and gender inequalities have been accentuated, and all of this risks having longer-term consequences than the virus itself,” Rizzitelli says. 

When women are put under greater financial pressure, their rights rapidly erode. With the economic crisis created by Covid, sex- and labour-trafficking are again on the rise. Young women who struggle to pay their rent are being preyed on by landlords, in a process known as “sextortion”. 

I don’t think we can overstate the level of exhaustion, anxiety and fear that women are suffering from taking care of families, with no break or time for themselves. It’s a subtle form of madness. As women take care of the sick, the needy and the dying, who takes care of them? Colani Hlatjwako, an activist leader from the Kingdom of Eswatini, sums it up: “Social norms that put a heavy caregiving burden on women and girls remain likely to make their physical and mental health suffer.” These structures also impede access to education, damage livelihoods, and strip away sources of support.

Unesco estimates that upward of 11 million girls may not return to school once the Covid pandemic subsides. The Malala Fund estimates an even bigger number: 20 million. Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, from UN Women, says her organisation has been fighting for girls’ education since the Beijing UN women’s summit in 1995. “Girls make up the majority of the schoolchildren who are not going back,” she says. “We had been making progress – not perfect, but we were keeping them at school for longer. And now, to have these girls just dropping out in one year, is quite devastating.” 

Of all these setbacks, this will be the most significant. When girls are educated, they know their rights, and what to demand. They have the possibility of getting jobs and taking care of their families. When they can’t access education, they become a financial strain to their families and are often forced into early marriages. 

This has particular implications for female genital mutilation (FGM). Often, fathers will accept not subjecting their daughters to this process because their daughters can become breadwinners through being educated. If there is no education, then the traditional practices resume, so that daughters can be sold for dowries. As Agnes Pareyio, chairwoman of the Kenyan Anti-Female Genital Mutilation Board, tells me: “Covid closed our schools and brought our girls back home. No one knew what was going on in the houses. We know that if you educate a girl, FGM will not happen. And now, sadly the reverse is true.” 

In the early months of the pandemic, I had a front-row seat to the situation of nurses in the US, most of whom are women. I worked with National Nurses United, the biggest and most radical nurses’ union, and interviewed many nurses working on the frontline. I watched as for months they worked gruelling 12-hour shifts filled with agonising choices and trauma, acting as midwives to death. On their short lunch breaks, they had to protest over their own lack of personal protective equipment, which put them in even greater danger. In the same way that no one thought what it would mean to lock women and children in houses with abusers, no one thought what it would be like to send nurses into an extremely contagious pandemic without proper PPE. In some US hospitals, nurses were wearing garbage bags instead of gowns, and reusing single-use masks many times. They were being forced to stay on the job even if they had fevers.

The treatment of nurses who were risking their lives to save ours was a shocking kind of violence and disrespect. But there are many other areas of work where women have been left unprotected, from the warehouse workers who are packing and shipping our goods, to women who work in poultry and meat plants who are crammed together in dangerous proximity and forced to stay on the job even when they are sick. One of the more stunning developments has been with “tipped” restaurant workers in the US, already allowed to be paid the shockingly low wage of $2.13 (£1.50) an hour, which has remained the same for the past 22 years. Not only has work declined, tips have also declined greatly for those women, and now a new degradation called “maskular harassment” has emerged, where male customers insist waitresses take off their masks so they can determine if and how much to tip them based on their looks. 

Women farm workers in the US have seen their protections diminished while no one was looking. Mily Treviño-Sauceda, executive director of Alianza Nacional de Campesinas, tells me how pressures have increased on campesinas, or female farm workers: “There have been more incidents of pesticides poisonings, sexual abuse and heat stress issues, and there is less monitoring from governmental agencies or law enforcement due to Covid-19.” 

Covid has revealed the fact that we live with two incompatible ideas when it comes to women. The first is that women are essential to every aspect of life and our survival as a species. The second is that women can easily be violated, sacrificed and erased. This is the duality that patriarchy has slashed into the fabric of existence, and that Covid has laid bare. If we are to continue as a species, this contradiction needs to be healed and made whole. 

To be clear, the problem is not the lockdowns, but what the lockdowns, and the pandemic that required them, have made clear. Covid has revealed that patriarchy is alive and well; that it will reassert itself in times of crisis because it has never been truly deconstructed, and like an untreated virus it will return with a vengeance when the conditions are ripe. 

The truth is that unless the culture changes, unless patriarchy is dismantled, we will forever be spinning our wheels. Coming out of Covid, we need to be bold, daring, outrageous and to imagine a more radical way of existing on the Earth. We need to continue to build and spread activist movements. We need progressive grassroots women and women of colour in positions of power. We need a global initiative on the scale of a Marshall Plan or larger, to deconstruct and exorcise patriarchy – which is the root of so many other forms of oppression, from imperialism to racism, from transphobia to the denigration of the Earth. 

There would first be a public acknowledgment, and education, about the nature of patriarchy and an understanding that it is driving us to our end. There would be ongoing education, public forums and processes studying how patriarchy leads to various forms of oppression. Art would help expunge trauma, grief, aggression, sorrow and anger in the culture and help heal and make people whole. We would understand that a culture that has diabolical amnesia and refuses to address its past can only repeat its misfortunes and abuses. Community and religious centres would help members deal with trauma. We would study the high arts of listening and empathy. Reparations and apologies would be done in public forums and in private meetings. Learning the art of apology would be as important as prayer.

The feminist author Gerda Lerner wrote in 1986: “The system of patriarchy in a historic construct has a beginning and it will have an end. Its time seems to have nearly run its course. It no longer serves the needs of men and women, and its intractable linkage to militarism, hierarchy and racism has threatened the very existence of life on Earth.”

As powerful as patriarchy is, it’s just a story. As the post-pandemic era unfolds, can we imagine another system, one that is not based on hierarchy, violence, domination, colonialisation and occupation? Do we see the connection between the devaluing, harming and oppression of all women and the destruction of the Earth itself? What if we lived as if we were kin? What if we treated each person as sacred and essential to the unfolding story of humanity? 

What if rather than exploiting, dominating and hurting women and girls during a crisis, we designed a world that valued them, educated them, paid them, listened to them, cared for them and centred them?“

#women #coronavirus #life and style #world news #inequality #Covid 19 #COVID-19 #feminism #womanism #gender inequality #gender equality #corona virus

[deleteddewewted]

Incel!Shinsou Oneshot: "Why are you acting like that?”

To keep busy I just thought that a oneshot of Shinsou getting self conscious/needy would be cute since we already have his redemption arc rolling in. The next part of the Incel!Shinsou series (Part 3) will have him proving his worth at the Sports Festival. So in thinking of how he will prove himself to you I thought of how will all of those people affect him, especially you. ( This oneshot takes place pre changes, so Shinsou is still his disgusting self but he's figuring out how to woo a woman, especially of your caliber.)

Incel!Shinsou Series:

Part 1: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Part 2: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Incel!Shinsou Headcanons

"I know what you're doin' here. Made your intentions clear. Oh you, you terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Beautiful thing"

TW: Strong Language, Mild Sexism

People were never an obstacle when it came to the things Shinsou wanted. He’s aware that others would do anything for him if he played his cards right. The right words with the right question did wonders for him. So why the fuck couldn’t he have what he wanted when it came to you? You drove him up the wall with the kindness you showed him. He didn’t deserve it and you’re existence almost felt like a punishment from whatever deity that existed out there to make him suffer. You guys were suppose to be studying for your upcoming project that required a poster, a slide show, and one influential person that would help prove your projects point. You left him running circles within his own mind as to how you were so willing to challenge him. He wanted you to obey him not see through his bullshit. It wasn’t like you didn’t listen to him vent, or didn't give him attention, but he wanted to hold you under his control. To be the person you listened to.

In class you where both seated on the extreme ends of the room on opposite sides. You never realized this (you do), but his head would periodically turn towards your direction to look at you, to figure you out (liar). This time, you managed to catch him do it.

“What are you doing?” You asked plainly. You honestly didn’t care that he was staring, everyone does when you dress like you're attending an MCR concert in the middle of autumn.

“You look different....today.”

“Nice.” It was difficult to care. Shinsou was just some guy in your class that you had to deal with. Nothing special really....ok, maybe it wasn’t fully true. You didn’t really know him all that well or anything (Unless it was mocking and belittling everything you did, that was normal behavior for him so it wasn’t surprising to find out he was like that outside of campus.) but he wasn’t all that bad? If he cared for himself a bit more, hygiene wise he would be considered handsome or at least a competent human being (you weren't going to call him a man, men don't act this childish. At least the ones you knew.) Maybe then you would take his opinion seriously, but for now you’ll ignore his...interesting comments he's been throwing towards you today.

“It’s rude to ignore someone when their talking to you, you know?” The neutral face he had now possessed a frown and a furrow to his brows. You still couldn’t process how he took the time to make sure his hair stayed purple but didn’t care for his body odor. (This man dyes his hair purple yet cant bother to shower or use deodorant for once in his life.)

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m just not interested in anything you have to say.” With that you get up and take your things and leave. There was no point in wasting time on someone who couldn’t even look at you directly and had to also sneak glances at you. "Do I really look that unbearable?" you thought to yourself. In the end you didn’t care anymore, everyone was entitled to an opinion and the last thing you need is feeling self conscious because of your out of place classmate.

Shinsou was fuming. How the fuck did you just get up and leave his ass while he was trying to complement you. You should have been more appreciative that he was giving you his attention for once. A bitch like you wasn't even worth it so he doesn't understand why he even tried with you.

He never goes directly home after school but instead to the local theater. It was one of the few places where he could be around others and could genuinely be himself. It was weird, he didn't feel like himself when he was speaking with his "friends", friends that he's never spoken to verbally, never seen, and never would meet. He knew that he didn't deserve this, to have a safe haven when he acts like an ass, yet here he was.

"Good morning Shinsou! How are you? Are you ready for rehearsals? You did remember to read your lines, right?" Shinsou rolls his eyes at his theater mates antics. Monoma never seems to stop but he does know when to tone it down and when it comes to Shinsou he tones it down a bit. (Because Monoma is canonically considerate of others, look back the Sports Festival and the Joint Training Arc.)

"Im good man, yes i did read and memorized the script, dont worry about it." What an odd friendship, the most chaotic gentleman like man out the bunch with the quietist incel in the group. Shinsou should have seen it coming when he was adopted by Monoma but he's running on 2 to 4 hours of sleep so he doesn't really care.

Believe it or not Shinsou does take showers (only for theater) but very quickly and with no care (no shampoo or soap, fucking why man.) Theater means more to him and so making his character look the best they possible can was his first and foremost priority. He puts on his costume, gets to makeup (the minimum, because it's "gay" for him to wear makeup and since the world is unfair and cruel he has perfect skin for a greasy headed asshole.)

"Everyone get a move on! Kodai, Tsuburaba, and Awase! Go to stage left! Light techs, how's it up there?" One of the tech heads shouted out. Shinsou and Monoma got to their positions on the stage and the rehearsals began.

Love, the play was about love. Love that wasn't rejected but also not accepted. He didn't understand the concept fully. Was it romantic? Platonic? Familiar? Admiration? He loved his dad, but he mostly admired him. He worked long hours and middle resents him for not being there for him, yet he realizes that his dad works to give him the world, a home with all the things he wanted. He never had a mother so he never had parental or familiar, again his dad was there but he wanted a parent that would hold him when he came back from school everyday. He didn't have a girlfriend, so he doesn't know romantic. So far all of his characters where villains, or evil in some way. He was starting to get sick of them. Shinsou wanted something more, wanted to play a character that wasn't how everyone saw him as on his day to day life. He wanted a challenge, he wanted....affection. Just to show it. He wanted attraction. Just to abuse it. He wanted...love. To just...maybe...feel...enjoy...understand it.

"You terrible thing you. My love, you're so cold. You've left me hanging on every one of your words. You've made me loose my self, lose my self-control because of you!" He pours everything into his performance, his loneliness, his regrets, his experience. He's been told by his co-performers and directors that he has a great future in the arts, in theater. If he just took care of himself more he would be an amazing actor, not only incredibly talented but also attractive. He would have the world kneeling, bowing to him just from his words alone. He could have anything he wanted just because of his existence.

" You've made me do things i don't want to do...for you." Kodai stands there looking horrified. He's covered in blood, the blood of her lover, the one she left him for.

"No, i-i didn't-"

"YOU MADE ME-MADE DO THIS FOR YOU! You terrible, terrible, terrible thing! You beautiful thing, I've done this for you!...and you still cant and won't love me." He doesn't see Kodai anymore. It's not her face he sees, nor her voice that he hears.

Its you...its your voice. You. You looking back at him while he slowly lowered himself to kneel and crawl towards you. It's you who backs away from him as he starts to cry and hiccup.

"You wreck me, you made me. You leave me in your wake, please let me go!" He sees you and feels you grabbing his wrists back, pushing him into himself.

"Don't you ever let me go...."

You terrible beautiful thing, you.

And here we are again. This was a lot fun to write since it feels more concrete when it comes towards his personality and his full thought process. In many cases people like Shinsou just want attention or some sense of validation, which there is nothing wrong with wanting those things but it's more about the manner you go about it. You shouldn't pressure or force others to spend time with you, but there is always someone out there that will like to give you those things.

Tag list: @blossominglark

#bnha #mha #shinso x reader #shinsou #shinsou x reader #my hero academia #mha angst #sad fic #fanfiction #incel shinsou #incelshinso #shinso is a dick #alt #enemies to lovers #shinsou hcs #mha shinsou #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #my hero academia shinsou #mha headcanons #hitoshi shinsou #shinso x y/n #shinsou x y/n #shinso hitoshi x reader

[mollygetssherlockcoffee]

Pembroke

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Based on this prompt! A NYPD Detective won’t leave Y/N alone, so Spencer intervenes. 116 - “I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that. But what you’re doing isn’t fair.”

Warning: Sexual harassment. Sexual wording. Swearing (I think). Just genuinely inappropriate words and behaviour. Blood.

Words: 1, 475

A/N: This related to a TV show... but do you know which?

Master List    Permanent Tag List

“Y/N, maybe after this is through, we can grab a drink?” Detective Pembroke suggested.

If you could go back and punch your past self in the face, you would. Then you’d kick her ass. Then, you’d shot her for good measure. What the hell had you been thinking five years ago? Oh right, you hadn’t been thinking, you had just been horny.

 In fairness, the problem wasn’t that you had a one-night stand, it was, rather, who you had that one-night stand with. Keith Pembroke was a detective who was completely full of himself. A tall man with broad shoulders, dark hair and dark eyes, he was sure he was gods gift to women.

 You had regretted it quickly. On a moment of weakness, you had hooked up with him and from then on, he had tried to hit you up numerously for booty-calls. Your last seven months in the NYPD was a nightmare of avoiding the other Detective before you transferred to join the BAU.

 However, since you had returned to New York, and to the very precinct you had previously been stationed at, Detective Pembroke had been trying to ‘make the move’ on you. He had asked you out for dinner, for lunch, offered to pick you up at your hotel for breakfast. He had suggested grabbing a drink, taking a stroll through the park. He had even outright just suggested you going back to his place for a romp in the sheets.

 All in the space of forty-eight hours.

 It was frustrating to say the least. You had repeatedly told him that you were completely uninterested. He still persisted. You told him you were in a relationship, he didn’t care. He didn’t even care when you pointed out that your boyfriend was on your team, and in the very same precinct.

 Spencer had wanted to step in, but you had practically begged him not to. Firstly, you didn’t want to cause a problem between the BAU team and the NYPD. Secondly, it was nothing you couldn’t put up with for a few days. And finally, Spencer, bless his heart, was a delicate flower. Pembroke wouldn’t be opposed to becoming physical, but Spencer was not a man who used his fists to get his way.

 “As I’ve told you before, Detective Pembroke, I am not interested” you repeated. “Also, its Agent Y/L/N.”

“Come now, one little drink won’t hurt” he pushed, taking hold of your arm and pulling you closer.

“I don’t want to go for a drink with you or socialise with you in any way. I’m not interested. I’m in a happily committed relationship with a man who respects me… why would I go for you?” you snatched your arm back. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m telling you now, honey, you’ll be in my bed again before the week is out” he laughed, his voice following you as you left the room.  

  Spencer had heard what Detective Pembroke had said to his girlfriend, and it infuriated him. Spencer was grown enough to admit he wasn’t the best with dealing with emotions, he could become quite petty with someone when they upset him. However, for Y/N sake, he tried to keep calm around the detective.

 He watched as Y/N left the room and Detective Pembroke, smiling to himself, walked over to where Spencer was standing with two other NYPD officers. While Detective Pembroke knew that Y/N was dating a member of the BAU, she hadn’t been specific about who it was. why? She didn’t want him hounding Spencer, which she wouldn’t put past the man.

 “Still after her, Keith?” One of the officers laughed, sipping at his coffee. “When are you going to give in?”

“When she’s in my bed” Pembroke laughed, grabbing himself a drink.

“She’s told you no multiple times, don’t you think you should respect that?” Spencer asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

 Spencer didn’t understand men like Detective Pembroke. He didn’t understand how a man could view a woman as ‘just a pussy to keep you warm’. The way men like his spoke about women made Spencer sick.

 Spencer was raised to respect women, to appreciate them, to care for them. It was obvious that these men weren’t taught the same.

 Detective Pembroke and the two officers continued to laugh. They continued to speak degradingly about women, and, in particular, about Y/N. Spencer could feel his blood boil. What gave men the right to act this way. If a woman said no, a man should accept that, apologise, and move on. What entitled a man to push for access to a woman’s body, when she didn’t want to give that access? Realising it or not, Detective Pembroke and the officers were promoting rape culture, which, in their line of profession, was something they were meant to be fighting.

 Well, Spencer thought, everyone should be fighting against rape and rape culture.

 They kept speaking, kept saying the disgusting things. They didn’t care if Y/N or any other woman, wasn’t interested. They’d push and push. Spencer’s fists clenched as they laughed, speaking about all the filthy things they’d have Y/N do for them.

 “I can’t wait to have her on her knees for me” Pembroke said, eyes watching Y/N through the window as she spoke with Rossi. “Cock so far down her throat she won’t be able to say ‘No’.”

 It was the straw which broke the camels back, as they say.

  Your attention was suddenly drawn to the breakroom of the NYPD station. You rushed forward, pushing through the doorway and entering the room, mouth open in shock.

 Detective Pembroke was bracing himself against the table, his hand covering his nose but you could clearly see the bloody pouring from between his fingers. His eyes were focused on his attacker. You followed his line of sight and gasped.

 Spencer stood in front of him, an officer holding him back, with blood covering his knuckles. “If a woman says no, they mean no. its not a maybe, its not an invitation to try harder or a request to force them. It. Means. No.”

“What’s going on here?” Lewis Walker, the precinct Captain walked into the room.

Spencer ignored him, continue to speak to Pembroke. “You don’t get to speak to or about women like that, you have no right. Being a man and having a badge does not permit you to encourage rape and rape culture. It’s disgusting. I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that. But what you’re doing isn’t fair.”

“Agent, calm down!” Captain Walker ordered, pointing a warning finger at Spencer.

“This is calm, and its Doctor” Spencer corrected him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Detective Pembroke has been sexually harassing Agent Y/L/N since we arrived. Maybe you should take a further look at you detectives and keep a better eye on them.”

 With that, Spencer stormed towards the door, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you with him.

  After the ‘scene’ in the break room, Detective Pembroke hadn’t spoken to you again. Thankfully. The insistent dinner or drinks requests had stopped, and so had the ‘appreciative’ looks which had previously been following your every movement. While you weren’t pleased that it had taken Spencer punching him and calling him and his captain out in front of everyone to stop him, you were happy that he did at least stop.

 Spencer hadn’t gotten in any real trouble for his behaviour. Hotch had taken him aside and had a word, but that was more for appearances sake. Everyone was aware of how Pembroke had treated you, and none of them were sorry to see him with a broken nose.

 Stepping out of the interview room and into the bullpen of the precinct, you smiled at Spencer. “All three kids are home safe, and Mr and Mrs Hobbins confessed.”

“Well done, I’m so proud of you” Spencer smiled, reaching for you.

 His hands cupped your face and he pulled you in a for a sweet, loving kiss. The kiss is gentle and soft, but your toes curl in you heels. You love it when Spencer kisses you. Its like electricity hums down your spine and your chest expands as you take in a breath of fresh air which is all him.

 “Come on” Spencer says, pulling back from the kiss. “Let’s go get a decent coffee and a doughnut to celebrate. I think there’s a Starbucks down the block.”

 It as he’s pulling you towards the door that you catch sight of Detective Pembroke. He’s looking at you both in shock. Obviously, he hadn’t worked out that Spencer was your boyfriend, even after he threw a punch for you. Some detective he was.

 You shook you head, casting him out of your mind as you happily followed after your boyfriend. Starbucks coffee and a doughnut sounded great.

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[deafwestnewsies]

be my first last kiss

You can plan on a change in the weather or time, but you'd never planned on him changing his mind.

jack kelly x davey jacobs

read it on my ao3!

Earnest to goodness, Jack Kelly was going to murder Racetrack Higgins.

No, Anthony Higgins, this was the sort of thing that makes you pull out the tarnished christian name of a friend (or so you thought) you’ve known since he was toppling over on baby-fattened legs. Anthony Higgins would die by the sword of Jack Kelly.

He just had to get this godforsaken Youtube video filmed first.

You’re doing this for the cash, Jack grumbled to himself as he passed through the metal doors of a nondescript building on the Lower East Side- it was the kind of place being slowly taken over by hip and fun corporations promising Asian-fusion bars and eco-friendly thrift stores while edging out the relic businesses built on the backs of immigrant dreams. Jack couldn’t stand areas like this, the air thick with wasted luxury, so he rarely left the barrio. Why would he? Spot Conlon slept in the bedroom next to his. Katherine Plumber and Sarah Jacobs ran the bookstore that bought his baked goods and sold them for decent money. Medda lived down the street with her plethora of children, and Racetrack still beat the known path, doing tricks on the street corner for spare change and internet views. Davey- David. David Jacobs wasn’t there. It was right where Jack wanted to be.

Much unlike the dim studio where he now shuffled his feet, waiting for the perky young PA with bright red streaks in her hair to come back with further information about the video he would be shooting. Jack wasn’t a stranger to this small production company; He participated in a few Youtube videos back before they had millions of subscribers, he played truth or dare with lots of liquor and a complete stranger, he confessed about the first time he fell in love so it could be put to pathetic music.

Cash where you could get it, right?

“Kelly, right?” Cherry Streaks was back with a vengeance.

“Jack, actually,” he corrected.

“So you’re going to stand over there where the little blue X marks the spot and wait until the producer, Adam, starts asking you a few questions. The first one might be a test for our boom guy. Answer honestly, we can pretty much tell when you’re making up a story by this point. After that, the main part of the video will begin. Got it?” She was pointing wildly with a Number 2 pencil that had previously been stuck through her ponytail, and she smelled faintly of jasmine. Jack felt dizzy.

“Wait, I thought this was one of those ‘Choose who’s the best kisser out of ten strangers’ type of deal?” I mean, that’s what Race told me- oh God. Oh Santa Maria. Oh Saint Francis.

The young woman smiled like she was keeping an excellent secret. “Have fun, Jack Kelly.”

Walking off at her ominous dismissal, Jack stood where he was directed. The fluorescent lighting made him sweat under the knowledge that he had virtually no idea what he was doing there, Race had lied to him so that he would participate in some sort of sick, horrible scheme, and for all he knew, behind door number three could be his third grade teacher with a baseball bat and a basic multiplication grudge.

“Jack! It’s nice to see you again.”

Romeo was walking towards him with that easy gait Jack had memorized so long ago- Romeo had shot the original videos on an Amazon tripod and the unfounded hope of human connection, and now he owned the entire shebang. Jack dropped his tense shoulders to give him a warm smile. “Romeo. Boy, am I glad to see a friendly face.” Jack lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “You’ve got a production assistant who actually does work, so I’m assuming we’ve died and you earned a really nice deal in Heaven?”

Romeo barked out a laugh. “If I’ve died, do not resuscitate. I’ll never be able to look at another bodega meatball sub after cooking food bought in a real grocery store.”

“Rub it in, why don’tcha?” Jack punched the shorter man on the shoulder. “Listen, Romeo, you gotta tell me what I’m in for, a buddy totally sold me out for the cash and I have no clue what this project is gonna be like.”

Before Romeo could respond, a tall, lofty man behind the camera cleared his throat. “Darling? We’re ready to begin when you are.”

“Jack, meet Specs. Or Adam, but we all know how well nicknames stick. Specs, this is the old friend I was telling you about.” Romeo ended right above Specs’ elbow, and it was all Jack could do not to laugh.

The man fixed his thoughtful gaze on him. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack. You’ve got a real presence on the camera. Have you ever considered acting?”

“I’m afraid I’m, uh,” Jack flexed a paint-stained hand. “Strictly canvas, as they say.”

Nodding as if that was a phrase people commonly used and not something Jack invented on the fly, Specs then clapped his hands together. “Folks, let’s film this sonofabitch.”

---

“I’m Jack, and I’m a twenty-four year old artist living in New York City.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship?” Specs questioned from behind the camera.

Jack blinked in surprise. “Sure. One throughout high school, another in college and a little bit beyond. I wouldn’t call myself a heartbreaker or anything.”

“Do you stay friends with your exes?”

“One of ‘em, yea. It was more of an amicable thing, you know. She ended up being a lesbian. And I am… not.” His clumsy fingers tugged at a constricting collar.

“And the other?”

“Just because I’m not a heartbreaker doesn’t mean I can’t be a real asshole sometimes,” Jack nervously chuckled. (Davey had laid out rose petals, for God’s sake. Rose petals.)

“Was this girl the high school girlfriend, or the college one?”

“Boy,” Jack quickly corrected. “Man. I guess. He was in college- four and a half years.” (It took him four days to clear away the rotting flowers, the bleeding color slowly seeping into his carpet. Katherine found him delirious with whiskey on the bathroom floor; Sarah couldn’t bear to walk through his front door.)

“How’d you meet him?”

(He twisted in his high-backed blue chair. “It’s habláis in el presente.”) “Freshman year of high school actually. Spanish class. Funny story, actually, that other girl I dated? His sister. Broke her heart for his. He was so mad at me that we didn’t talk for like, months after.”

“It was six and a half months, actually.”

Of things Jack was expecting to see today, Spiderman was more likely than David. A flash mob singing death metal, maybe. Pigs flying through the polluted air.

“I was told to come in. I now see why.” David’s eyes narrowed behind his thin wire frames, different from the heavy Ray-Bans that he had dedicated himself to sophomore year of high school. Jack hated that he looked older, wiser, and all around… better.

Specs cleared his throat before the bewildered set of men (one more angry than the other, both desperately avoiding eye contact) could demand what sort of sick joke this was. “Can you introduce yourself?”

They broke up on a Tuesday, an insignificant, momentary Tuesday. Fourteen months ago. (Yes, fourteen months, like their terrible split was a baby that Jack was nurturing bit by bit. He refused to round down- fourteen months ago, he left David Jacobs.) So when David ran his thumb across his jawline, a nervous tick older than his younger brother, Jack couldn’t fathom why he felt so relieved. Some things never did change. “David. Jacobs.” David’s jaw flexed as he looked into the camera. “I dated Jack for almost five years.”

“Tell us about your other relationships.”

“Unfortunately, I spent the better part of high school and college pining after a total cocksock. Not a whole lot of time for casual dating in between.”

A deep silence permeated the studio as two boom mic operators swapped awkward glances. Jack didn’t attempt to defend himself- he was sort of a cocksock. David Jacobs had asked him to uproot what little life he had in New York and move to Santa Fe for a prestigious, so-accolated-you-could-cry medical school, and Jack Kelly broke up with him over containers of kung pao chicken and scattered rose petals. He was a cocksock, a dickhead, and complete asshole. An ex-boyfriend of mass proportions.

“Okay, so.” Specs was wiping at his glasses with the tail of his shirt. Jack wanted to snap them in half. “Today’s video is entitled ‘Exes kiss for the first time since their breakup’. If you need more explanation…”

“I think we’ve got it.” David snapped, clenching his fists rapidly.

Jack stepped half an inch closer to David and began murmuring under his breath. “Davey, if you don’t want-”

“Don’t call me Davey.” His eyes were alight with flame- Jack’s chest caught fire.

Of all the things that felt domestic when dating Davey Jacobs, kissing him never managed to become routine. Davey kissed like he earnestly meant it. The gears in his brilliant mind would grind to a halt so he could dedicate himself to the lilting curve of Jack’s mouth, a gentle sweep of warmth when the artist’s mouth was otherwise preoccupied with his needless words, and the world would spin on a delicate axis. (Jack’s shoulders rose to meet Davey, the physical ache of being someone’s other half drawing him forward. Davey had avoided him for so long, Jack living on a diet of lingering stares and a brief touch of the hand, that kissing him felt like a dying man knelt at a replenished well. How did they exist for so long without this innate knowledge of the universe? Could he stand to go on a single second longer without the praise of Davey Jacob’s lips?) Of all the things Jack missed about spending his life with Davey Jacobs, kissing him was certainly one of them.

There was a moment where the pads of Jack’s fingertips brushed the nape of David’s neck, a habit borne from the small noise it would draw from the back of his throat, and the steely corporate floor felt more like the worn carpet in the old thirty-second street apartment. Jack could feel his thready pulse with the gentle press of a thumb.

Davey was a fan of the dramatics- he would pull away from a passionate kiss in the middle of a busy New York street to stare into Jack’s eyes, foreheads gently touching and cheeks furiously blushing. Now, he simply drew back. Took a step away. Swiped at his lips with the back of his hand.

Jack felt like he was falling. (“If you ever break up with me,” Jack began. He laughed at Davey’s unexpected shudder, the honest and visceral kind. “Make it quick.”

“What about when you break up with me?” Davey peered over his glasses.

Crinkling his nose, Jack quickly answered before the other boy could detail any breakup preferences. “I’m not an idiot, Dave. ‘M not going anywhere.”)

---

He stared at the limp fifty dollars in his hand. Romeo had apologized, explaining that the people who had organized this got half the cut, and handed them both an envelope- Jack, one with “Tony Higgins” that he planned to run through his shredder, and David, one with “Sarah Jacobs,” which made Jack gawk in disbelief.

Jack didn’t want to walk away; David’s feet were shuffling against the worn pavement.

“It’s funny,” David started. “I listened to a lot of Taylor Swift to get over you.”

He winced. “Sorry?”

“Please. I know she’s been your top artist since 2013.”

(Katherine walked through a worryingly unlocked apartment door. “Is that... Begin Again? Jack, what the fuck are you doing?” She had seconds to worry about the cluster of wilted flower petals her heel had put a hole through before Sarah pointed at the pair of legs sticking out of the bathroom’s entrance.) “Yeah, okay. Fair. But… funny? Did I miss a joke?”

David closed his eyes to roll them, as he so often did when he was trying to be polite, and it hurt to be on the receiving end. “We just had our last kiss. You know, like-”

“I’m Joe Jonas?” Jack interrupted, bewildered. The semi-glare he received in return was all he needed to know- “Right. Dickhead. Listen, Dave- David, why didn’t you tell me you were back in town?”

There was a brief moment where something unrecognizable flashed over David’s face- pity? Regret? Dejection? It was quickly replaced by a soft smile tugging at the edge of his lips, his eyes glazed over with a practiced professionalism. “I’ll see you around, Jack. Have a good day.”

David turned and walked down the street, and Jack just missed the passing moment he chose to look back.

---

Comment on EXES KISS FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THEIR BREAKUP by IncredibleKinsey: those two dudes are all mad and then just make out like that????? yeah okay call me when the wedding happens

#newsies #newsies on tour #newsies on broadway #newsies live #newsies 1992 #javid #javid fanfiction #javid newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #katherine plumber #sarah jacobs #newsbians #newsies fanfiction #javid au #my writing

[thestupidhelmet]

What would you say are the core personalities of the six? I don't know if you've made a meta about this already since I'm fairly new here. Love your blog!

Thank you! 😊

I’ve written a few metas on the characters’ personalities or characterizations. But I’ll write up what I interpret their consistent core characterizations to be. First, a preamble.

Unfortunately, That ‘70s Show’s writers had a tendency to forget, ignore, or outright change the characters’ core characterizations, too often introducing new elements -- to serve plot -- that conflict with earlier established personality traits confirmed and reconfirmed by many episodes that followed. This is different than character development, which is grounded often in incremental changes over several / many episodes or even seasons. 

Most of these revisions of the characters’ core personalities are negative. Only one I can think of is positive: Hyde’s in “Prom Night” (1x19). The core of his character gets a complete overhaul once his role as Eric’s villainous foil and rival for Donna’s affection is over.

Because of the show’s inconsistent writing, one can pick and choose which consistently depicted attributes are the truly canon parts of a character’s personality. Later in the series, these consistently depicted attributes often conflict. When I write fanfic and @those70scomics​, I depicts the characters according to what I believe are their core personalities. Other people can reasonably view their core personalities differently. 

Now to answer your question.

Fez

He’s insecure about fitting in with his group of friends and among Americans in general. This insecurity sometimes manifests as neediness with friends and girlfriends alike.

He’s loyal to his friends and generally caring. He doesn’t like hurting their feelings. He’s in touch with his emotions and sensitive, which means he can be hurt rather easily by his friends’ or others’ thoughtless remarks toward him -- or hurt by what he misinterprets as an insult (e.g., Hyde telling Fez he needs to act aloof to attract women, and Fez believing Hyde is calling him “a loof,” which Fez apparently thinks is a put-down).

He’s not defenseless, however. He’s got a quick wit and comes back with cutting remarks of his own or simply cuts off his friends with his catchphrase and its varieties (i.e. “Good day. ... I said good day!”)

He’s passionate, but this passion variously paired with his insecurity, neediness, and sensitivity can cloud his judgement, which causes him to go too far in many areas: dirty jokes, masturbation, pursuit of unavailable girls, eating candy, etc. 

He suffers from Nice Guy syndrome with Jackie during seasons 2 and 3. This means he has a sense of entitlement to Jackie’s romantic and sexual affection, and his respectful treatment of her is predicated on the expectation of romantic and sexual reward. Once he realizes that she’ll never reciprocate his romantic feelings, his respectful treatment of her diminishes greatly. 

In season one, he’s depicted as insightful to other people’s feelings and motivations. In seasons 1-4, he’s also depicted as romantic and a romantic. He’s a serial monogamist, but he suffers somewhat from toxic masculinity (e.g., calling Jackie little girl when he believes she’s overstepped her bounds) and sexism (e.g., often calling girls whores; once this insult is prompted by a girl who does not put out sexually, which is the opposite of the meaning of whore). With Rhonda, though, this toxic masculinity and sexism seem not to be evident.

He longs for intimacy, whether platonic (men) or romantic (women). See this meta about how the show writes Fez and Kelso’s relationship as near-romantic in later seasons while also (re)affirming Fez and Kelso’s canonical straightness to keep T7S’s universe a heteronormative one.

Fez is obsessed with losing his virginity, but for the first four seasons of the show, the depiction of this obsession falls in line with that of many teenage boys his age. It’s not out of the ordinary. Eric is shown to have the same obsession until he and Donna finally have sex. Further, Fez’s obsession is not so all-encompassing that he can’t put it aside for love. He does so for his love of Rhonda -- until “Everybody Loves Casey” (4x26), where the best parts of his core characterization are destroyed. See my meta The Deterioration of Fez’s Character for details.

My Take: I prefer to write the insightful, loyal Fez who sometimes doesn’t know how far to push a joke. He can be insecure, but he’s also got a strong moral center and sense of what’s right and wrong -- or develops this sense more thoroughly during a given story. He’s flawed but very capable of growing and changing due to his ability to examine his own behavior and love for his friends.

Kelso

In season one, Kelso is a math and tech prodigy who has little common sense and or will power. He’s also loyal to Eric and Hyde and clearly loves them, but his impulsivity and addiction to sexual pleasure drive him to act thoughtlessly. He displays a sense of entitlement but not a pathological one. He’s capable of apologizing for his thoughtless and entitled behavior.  See this meta about “Ski Trip” (1x13) for an in depth analysis of Kelso’s behavior during that episode.

After season 1, his math and technology knowledge is gonet. His selfishness and sense of entitlement overshadow his loyalty to anyone (or anything) other than fulfilling  his own needs and desires. His lack of common sense becomes cartoonish. He acts maliciously when he feels slighted, which happens when he doesn’t get what he believes he’s entitled to. He relentlessly pesters Jackie verbally and physically for sex when she just wants to sleep. He’s pathologically narcissistic, vain, and dishonest.

During the end of season 3 and beginning of season 4, however, he begins to grow and change. He experiences and express remorse toward Jackie for treating her so badly -- without any expectation of return. His selfishness fades significantly, as does his lying, but neither attribute disappears completely. He’s capable of putting his own wants and desires aside for Jackie’s, but she sometimes has to assert herself more than once for him to do so.

During the end of season 4, unfortunately, he not only reverts back to type, he also becomes worse. He rescinds his remorse and gives Jackie the responsibility for his cheating. He speaks misogynistically about women and her, and is just generally awful. See my metas Jackie Kissing Todd “the Cheese Guy” and Kelso’s Reaction and False Equivalency: Kelso’s “Most Romantic Gesture” Toward Jackie for further analysis.

In season 5, Kelso reaches the peak of his self-entitled narcissism, selfishness, hypocrisy, and possessiveness over Jackie. He interprets Jackie dating Hyde as an act of betrayal and an attack on his pride and self-esteem. He seeks out revenge on both of them, even while trying to “win Jackie back” with the same kind of maliciousness he shows Jackie in season 2 when she doesn’t forgive his cheating within a week of her discovering it. 

Throughout the series, he makes unwanted sexual advances toward Donna. He tries to grope her breast repeatedly while she sleeps. He tries to sneak a glimpse of her breasts while she changes, and she’s so sick of his whining that she gives into what he wants (in “Class Picture” [4x20]). The writers intended this scene to be funny, but it’s actually horrific and parallels Jackie’s complaints about Kelso pawing at her and whining relentlessly for sex that she gives in so she can sleep.

He makes these numerous sexual advances on Donna when she’s in a relationship with Eric and when she and Eric are broken up. Yet he when he and Jackie are no longer together, he acts like Hyde has committed a crime against him for being in a consensual relationship with Jackie.

Without Ashton’s comedic timing and likability, Kelso would be unbearable to watch during seasons 1-5. Kelso is funny only because of Ashton’s performance.

But in season 6, Kelso gets another chance at a true character growth arc. He fights his selfish, cowardly tendencies to have a place in Brooke’s life and their child’s (whom hasn’t been born yet). He works hard to prove his ability to be a good father. and himself worthy of Brooke’s love. Even more, he makes an act of utter unselfishness and sacrifice by letting Brooke and their baby go  -- to live Chicago with Brooke’s mom -- because that’s what’s best for them, not him.

That being said, he still demonstrates an amount of selfishness toward his friends.

Season 7 again drops him back to status quo -- almost. Brooke is gone. He’s barely involved in his child’s life. He dates Hyde’s newfound sister, in part to burn Hyde. But at least he treats Angie with respect and is faithful to her, as far as we’re shown. So that part of his growth from season 6 stuck.

Throughout all the seasons, he’s shown to have a vast imagination. He fancies himself an inventor or an astronaut. He comes up with some wild -- and some might say insane -- ideas. He’s creative despite not being very skilled.

My Take: I generally write Kelso as a selfish, self-entitled narcissist because of when my T7S fics take place in the series. I also use his lack of common sense as comic relief. But I prefer the Kelso capable of growth and change, the one who is willing to put his own needs and desires aside for the benefit of other people. This latter characterization development has continued in @those70scomics​, and I’ve given him major growth arcs in my stories Reflections Through the Glass, Beneath a Shattered Sky, and Those Who Play with Demons (which I have yet to finish writing).

Eric

Eric has a compassionate heart. He cares about his family, his friends, and people in general. But he also suffers deep insecurities about his masculinity thanks to Red’s treatment of him. Eric is more in touch with his emotions, like his mother, and Red has trouble relating to him. Red also worries Eric might be too emotionally vulnerable to survive the real world, which is why he’s so hard on him (see “Hunting” [2x13]).

Because of modeling his dad gives him on masculinity, the clear messages that Eric isn’t masculine enough, and what he absorbs from observing how society expects men to behave, he suffers from bouts of chauvinism. Donna.is regularly the recipient of Eric’s insecurities about his manliness. He often feels threatened by her self-confidence, athletic ability, intelligence, etc. -- because she’s a woman and his best friend / girlfriend / fiancée. He falsely believes her strengths highlight his weaknesses as a man.

But he’s also patient and unselfish with Donna, putting aside his own sexual desires for her need to go slowly or for celibacy (in season 6). He’s supportive of her and all his family and friends, including Laurie and Jackie -- both of whom he has an antagonistic relationship with. He’s very loyal to his friends.

Eric uses sarcasm and his quick wit as defense mechanisms. Some might say he’s a little stunted in his growth due to his continued enjoyment of playing with action figures. He indulges at times in his mom’s infantilizing of him while also trying to assert his adulthood.

He has a specific vision for his future: marrying Donna and having a family with her. This vision, however, does not include a career. He doesn’t seem to be passionate about much else besides his relationship with Donna (and having sex with her) and Star Wars. This is a failing of the writers. Eric’s storylines are so Donna-focused that the show gives little space for what else he might be passionate about.

Eric is very much capable of recognizing, owning, and learning from his mistakes. He can be a total ass, but he eventually realizes his behavior and makes correction.

Donna

Donna is confident, athletic, intelligent, and a staunch defender of gender equality (when written consistently). She’s loyal to her friends. She often puts aside her own pride to protect Eric’s self-esteem. She gets angry at him almost only when he’s earned it. See In Defense of Donna (an essay in eight parts) for an in depth analysis on her relationship with Eric.

When she’s in severe emotional pain, she becomes self-destructive. Losing her relationship to Eric at the end of season 3 and her mom moving to California sends her into downward spiral. Earlier, we see this self-destructive trait in “Eric Gets Suspended” (2x09) when her parents pay little attention to her due to their obsession with the latest fads. 

Her parents’ lack of boundaries with her -- exposing her to their marital troubles and making her a pawn in them, as well as not hiding their sexcapades from her -- create a strong sense of boundaries within her.

The state of her parents’ relationship often influences her confidence in her relationship with Eric. She’s afraid sex will destroy her relationship with Eric; but once her parents renew their wedding vows, she has faith enough that romantic relationships can last that she finally feels safe enough to have sex.

She strongly values her independence. She doesn’t want her life and prospects dictated or limited by her romantic relationship with Eric. She witnesses how her dad’s controlling chauvinism stifles her mom’s own independence and dreams for herself, and she refuses to let Eric’s insecurity and chauvinism do that to her.

She’s passionate about writing, both journalistic and fiction, as well as music. She’s playful and forgiving. She doesn’t fit the gender norms of the 1970s. She’s as comfortable playing basketball with the guys as she is decorating a room or gymnasium for an event. She has a mixture of femininity and masculinity, which only Jackie seems to insult her about.

Jackie

At her core, Jackie is a compassionate, generous, and insightful person. She gives far more gifts to Kelso during their relationship than he does her -- despite her always stating how much she wants presents. She gives Donna lots of advice and support during Donna and Eric’s transition from friends to lovers. She continues to give Donna advice and support throughout the series about her love life.

But Jackie can also be very controlling, insulting, and selfish. She’s quite vain, but she’s also insecure about all she acts secure about. See Does Jackie Become Less Insecure about Her Physical Appearance when She Dates Hyde? If So, Why? 

Jackie has abandonment issues because of her parents. Her father isn’t home a lot and often shows his love for her through presents. The latter is why she wants / expects to get gifts from her boyfriend(s). She develops a marriage obsession out of wanting a guarantee she won’t be abandoned by her romantic partner, despite that marriage doesn’t actually guarantee this.

She also has a tendency toward self-delusion. She so needs Kelso to be whom she wants him to be that she goes into denial about his infidelity and all the negative qualities of his I described above. Eventually that delusion is broken, only to be replaced by delusions about Hyde. She transfers her feelings of (relationship-)safety from Kelso to Hyde.

Only when Kelso breaks her heart for the final time at the end of season 4 does she break out of this delusion cycle. She fantasizes about what her future with Hyde might be like, but that isn’t the same as deluding herself. Plus, Hyde consistently disabuses her of these unrealistic fantasies and offers her a much healthier and happier potential reality.

Once she’s with Hyde in season 5, she begins growing and changing significantly. Instead of complaining of her suffering as she does, for instance, during her S2-S3 break-up with Kelso, she hides the fact her mom has completely abandoned her after her dad goes to prison. She tells no one her mom hasn’t come home from Mexico.

This is not one of the healthier changes she makes in season 5, but fantasizing away her pain no longer works as a defense mechanism. Instead, she believes she has to face her struggles alone. Fortunately, Hyde discovers the truth and gives her a safe place and, in a very real way, becomes a literal safe place for her himself. (The writers screwed this up for the sake of a season-ending cliffhanger, but that’s beyond the scope of this meta.)

Jackie can be stubborn and determined. She wants what’s best for the people she loves, especially Hyde. She’s extremely forgiving. She doesn’t trust her ability to take care of herself, but she learns that she can (through getting a job, Hyde’s encouragement, her public access TV show, etc.)

She’s a complex character. When people don’t look beyond her surface, they find her easily dismissible. The writers too often wrote her this way during the series. But they also added many layers to her, as I’ve described in this meta.

Hyde

See the following metas I wrote about him:

Hyde’s Core Characterization Steven Hyde: Organic Character Development Steven Hyde: Inconsistent Characterization Hyde’s Character Shift from Season 4 to Season 5 Why Hyde Closes Himself Off More Emotionally in Season 5 Pathological Passive-Aggressiveness: A New Personality Trait Added to Hyde’s Character in Season 5 Hyde’s Potential Career

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Jackie x Hyde #Eric Forman #Michael Kelso #Ask #Anon #My Meta #My Essay #Meta #Essay #Core Characterization #Donna #Fez #Jackie #Hyde

[s-aned]

Dark Paradise - Chapter 1 - “I killed her”

“I killed her”

Her voice whips through the air. The older man turns his head towards the young woman, a frown twisting his face. Did he understood what she meant?

It’s been a few minutes since he arrived on the back porch. The lights were out, but she was there, sitting with her gaze fixed on the mountains or in the void, softly humming to herself a tune he didn't know.

“It’s 2 a.m., why aren’t you sleeping?

- What about you?”

Fair enough. He let out a small sigh before sitting down next to the young woman. He rubbed the back of his neck, his body still tense after a long day of work. Silence had settled in. Not a tense or embarrassed one. If she could be talkative and teasing, she also knew how to savor the comfort of a shared silence. That’s one thing he surely appreciated.

It had been a few weeks since she moved into his home, about one year after he settled in Jackson. At first glance, she seemed like a strange roommate for this fifty-year-old man, as she must have barely left her twenties. But she couldn't stay with Tommy and Maria forever and he had a spare room. Everyone seemed satisfied with the arrangement.

Joel was beginning to enjoy this company, and the good meals that accompanied it. He found it amazing how someone who struggles to eat anything other than soup can enjoy cooking so much. Gradually, a relationship of trust began to take hold. That's why he doesn’t hesitate long before breaking the silence.

“I heard what you said earlier to the girls. Your mom. Tommy and I… We also lost our mom to sickness. She... She got cancer. Before the outbreak. Nasty business.”

She nods but doesn’t add anything. She knows that the man isn’t one to spill about his past. She knows about Sarah, and some bits of his past in Boston QZ. Oh, she doesn’t know much, but enough to understand that he had seen and done things that morality could disapprove of.

And yet, she doesn’t dare to tell him what is on her heart. She’s afraid of his reaction. She’s trying to resist but the words are making their way to her mouth and she’s unable to hold them back, like a sour, uncontrollable bile. It’s too late. It must come out, regardless of his reaction.

“I killed her.”

She hears a rustle, and feel his incomprehension’s look on her. She resumes, turning her head towards him without daring to meet his gaze.

“My… My mom. I killed her.”

She bits her lip, wanting to prevent the tears from falling. She has started now, there is no going back. Might as well tell him everything.

“She… She was sick, real sick. But she kept dying. Most of the time when she was awake, she wasn’t even conscious, her open eyes and her mouth only let out a few inconsistent messages. And she was in pain, she was in excruciating pain. Day and night, she moaned. It was just the two of us. The neighbors would drop me food sometimes. But most of the time, I was alone with her suffering. I would stay day and night by her side, with no more hope of seeing her emerge. But her body was refusing to give up.”

She pauses for a moment, taking a breath before starting again.

“One night, she was finally sleeping. I wasn’t. She seemed so peaceful, so quiet. I thought, this is it. This is how she should be. Just in peace. No more pain. It was dark in the room, there was no moon that night. So I gave her a kiss before taking a pillow and… I put it on her head. As strong as I could. She didn’t react. I stayed like that for minutes but it felt like hours. I stayed until I felt it… Her last breath.”

Tears are now streaming down her cheeks. She stares into void, pursed lips adding nothing more. She doesn’t know why she told him about it. What would he think of her now?

“How old were you?

-14.”

He lets out an overwhelmed sigh. He already knew she had been through hard times. Heck, who hasn’t in this crazy world? But putting her own mother out of pain, that was something else. He tries to find something to say to ease her.

“You relieved her. QZ life wasn’t easy, she might have suffered for weeks, months even, if you hadn’t done that. You did that out of love. You’re brave.

-No, I’m not. After I did it, I just grabbed my stuff and left. I abandoned her there. God knows how much time it took before someone noticed. It’s probably the smell that alerted the neighbors. I didn’t give her a decent burial, and we both know that FEDRA probably tossed her bodies with all the others, infected or not.

-Why did you leave?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She knows that she will have to tell the full story if she keeps going. But now looks as bad as any other time. The night offers some protection. She lets it go.

“Hmm, I was an orphan. They would have put me in one of those FEDRA institutions. I heard what happened there. All this stories about girls being abused by soldiers or other boarders. I thought I was better to try it on my own.

-How did you survive without being caught?

-My dad. He had a sister in that QZ. We barely knew her, she had fallen out with him and when he died, we cut ties completely. I showed up at her place, and she was kind enough to take me. Oh sure, she treated me like a dog, making me do all the thankless jobs. But at least I had a roof over my head. After a few months she started dating this guy, scumbag but it kept her from being alone, I guess. There was only one room, so most of the time I had to stay in the hallway. But slowly, he started to look at me. Once, she was gone god knows where, he cornered me and told me a whole bunch of stuff a 15-year-old shouldn't hear from a grown-up man. My aunt walked in as he began to slide his hand under my shirt, and of course she got it on me. She beat the crap out of me, before tossing me out of her place. Obviously, she kept all my stuff, ID included. Probably sold it to black market, the bitch. I was left with only the clothes on my back."

She finally looks up at the man, unable to read the expression on his face. Sadness, anger, pity? She had only seen this face once. The day Tommy and he found her, after she killed her captors. It was Joel, she believes, who put a bullet in the head of the last of them. The one who had caught her and was standing over her, his knife stuck in her lower abdomen.

Joel had the same expression than today when, in Jackson's infirmary, she told them that she had been sold to these men, after being forcibly prostituted for months, years maybe, in her previous QZ. She didn't know where they were taking her, but she knew full well that her function would remain the same.

“Is that when?” He leaves his question hanging, but she understands what he means. She shakes her head.

“No. There was this guy I saw from time to time, we flirted with each other. He had managed to set up a junk studio in a building in the slum quarters of the QZ. He let me settle there. Of course, he didn’t ask for a kiss on the cheek in return. I won’t teach you how a 16-year-old boy is like.” She says sarcastically, a slight smirk appearing on her lips. Joel chuckles lightly. Touched. It’s around that age he got his girlfriend pregnant, and with that, got in adulthood prematurely. She goes back to her story.

“He got tired of me eventually, and I felt that soon I would find myself again in the cold streets, at the mercy of the first predator lurking around. But Heaven proved merciful, and I met Talia. She was in her fifties and had quite a temper. She saw me hanging out on the street in the rain and pulled me into a building that looked completely abandoned. She asked me questions, listened to my story without commenting, before opening another door. I discovered that there was a whole other life in this city. Rare alcohol, red armchairs and above all, a stage in the middle of which sat a bar.”

She grins at the surprised look of man.

“Yep Joel. There was a strip club in my QZ. She made me sit, gave me a towel to dry myself and began to explain what was happening there. There was no resistance group like your fireflies in my area. There were small local gang, who greased the military tab to do their little business.

At first, she didn't even want me in the room when the club was open. I was way too young for her liking, she couldn't tolerate me being exposed to men. So I did the housework, some services for the girls, all the little chores behind the scenes. From there I watched them dance and drive all the spectators crazy. Soldiers, small strikes, or average guy, they all drooled and get rid of everything they owned for a look, a caress.

After a year, I was entitled to serve at the bar. But just at the bar, I was forbidden to pass in the aisles. It was the girls' work. Talia was tough but she took good care of all of us. We were like family. When the club was closed, we laughed a lot. It was a good time.”

She ends her story with a sigh, before taking a sip of her infusion, now cold. She grimaces. She would have liked it to be whiskey. She still has plenty to talk about, but she's not sure she has the strength for it. The older man must feel it, because he doesn't ask any more questions.

She's already released a big chunk tonight. And what is yet to come is not the happiest. Above all, she is afraid of his reaction. For the moment, he believes she was an innocent victim, captured by ill-intentioned men. But she's not quite sure. She often wondered if she hadn't been responsible for all of this. So she keeps quiet and lets the silence of the night engulf her.

There is nothing more to say, and yet none of them moves. It’s only when a gust of wind makes her shiver that Joel straightens up and speaks in a firm but gentle tone she now knows by heart.

“Let’s go inside. You have to try to sleep.”

-------

Chapter 2

#TLOU #TLOU2 #TLOU fic #TLOU fanfic #Joel Miller #The last of Us

[ilikeoldchangke]

Social sex worker

This is a work of fiction.

After years of deliberation, the government finally recognised that sex, is a basic human need. All citizens, regardless of their education and income level, are entitled to have sex if they wish to. If they cannot afford to pay for sex, a social sex worker will be assigned to them to satisfy their human needs. My wife is a social worker, a social sex worker.

…………………………………………………

The first time I saw Kaiyun, I was attached to her an a intern. I had just completed my studies in social work and landed my first job.

Kaiyun is same age as me, at 24, she has already clocked a few good years in social work because she didn’t need to serve the military. She’s really sweet looking with a warm smile.

You know, some people are just pleasant to look at. With her big eyes and girlish looks, Kaiyun has that girl next door appeal. There is an air of innocence surrounding her but I know she is much more matured than she lets on.

There are many types of social work, and I was clear from the start when I received my posting with the kind I will be involved in.

I will be working with desolate old men with regards to their sexual needs.

You see, the government recognise that sex is a basic human need in order to function as a productive member of the society. This is why they have legislate that sex be included into the spectrum of challenges social workers need to tackle.

Kaiyun and I we started right at the beginning when the policy was implemented. Since it didn’t make sense for single ladies to enter homes of old men to talk about sex, a male staff would tag along. In my case, since I’m a intern, I could learn about the job as well.

No, we didn’t start off by providing sexual service to the lonely men. It was a counselling session where we evaluate their needs.

After their needs analysis, will we then proposed the kind of help they will get.

It could come in the form of vouchers where they can walk into any Geylang brothel to hire a whore to satisfy their needs. They can do it once a month.

Kaiyun and I also conduct simple IT and hardware training, teaching the men how to surf the net for pornography.

The government has set up a special site that these men can login with their Singpass. With access granted, they will have access not only to pre approve adult films, they also have access to a site where they can watch government employees pee in the bathroom, their upskirts in the pantry, and some outright having sex.

The society has opened up in a lot of ways and the government is encouraging more civil servants to perform the sex acts in front of a camera for very simple economic reasons.

To keep paying for international porn is expensive. Why not just produce it locally with your own employees.

Civil servants who are willing to get filmed having sex, gets a fast tracked career progression on top of decent bonuses. It’s a win win situation.

The work is stressful but fulfilling. Upon implementing a scheme like this, rape crimes by local citizens dropped to less than 5 cases a year.

I would get erection all the time during the course of our work.

Kaiyun always dressed conservatively for practical reasons. Just jeans and a polo t-shirt but there’s no hiding the gorgeous figure she had underneath. She’s pretty and the way the men look at her body is obvious.

Some men would openly take out their cock and start playing with them while Kaiyun explained how to log into the government porn sites.

There was once a client we work with asked if Kaiyun’s video is available inside there.

Old man : got your video Miss…. ? have ??  you very pretty…. How to search for yours… ?

Kaiyun remained professional and said that he can just search for her name.

True enough, I saw 2 videos pop up and my cock almost burst out of my pants.

There was a video of Kaiyun peeing in the toilet and another of her rubbing herself in her work cubicle.

You might think it sound sick but these are really basic videos. Nothing to shout about.

I looked away and excused myself to the bathroom and I could see Kaiyun feeling embarrassed.

I worked really closely with Kaiyun for a few years before realising we started to develop feelings for each other.

The sexual tension between us is like a tightly drawn bow.

I could not resist it any longer one evening and I held her hand, dragged her to the staircase and kissed her after a 2 hour long session of talking to a man who was playing with his cock as he kept trying to touch Kaiyun.

Can you imagine talking to the men in their dinghy home as they feast their eyes on Kaiyun’s body ? At the same time, we need to demonstrate how to surf various porn sites to them as well.

My dick stayed hard most of the time.

The session at the staircase ended with only kisses and lots of fondling, but upon stepping into my place, we fucked like rabbits through the night and called in sick the next day to continue fucking.

There are no restrictions about employees dating one another at work but I knew it’s going to be a challenge managing my feelings and emotions. It’s no longer walking into homes of desperate men and explaining how to get sex to them. It’s doing it with my girlfriend.

The title girlfriend changes everything.

I would get jealous when I listen to Kaiyun explain masturbation to the men in a variety of languages but it was arousing to be part of it.

I would see her showing the videos of her peeing and rubbing herself to the old men while deliberately angling the tablet away from me, teasing my cock for our fuck session after work.

As the years go by, we went on from just dating, to husband and wife.

Kaiyun and I got married when we turned 30, the same year the government decided to expand the scope of services provided to the men.

To plug the gaps as they put it.

Not every men wants to go to a brothel.

Not every men knows how to masturbate properly.

And rather than paying brothel owners for their girls, the government always make the decision that is beneficial to tax payers.

Why ask others to perform the job, when your own employees can do the same ?

Within a week, newly minted wife, Kaiyun received her new appointment letter with her new job scope.

She needed to provide masturbation services to the men she visits if they ask for it.

My heart was beating really fast when I looked at that letter.

It’s not because I was still her partner at work.

It’s not because I am her husband.

It’s not because I knew I needed to see her masturbate a man at work.

It’s because I knew in my heart, it’s a matter of time before masturbation graduates into something more.

………………………………………………

11800+ words

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A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 55 Xs1)

"Helluva Night"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@mythsloveworld

@kellyimagines

@queenieofthesouth

@crystalbaby12

After Luna changes, Ashley and her head over to The Amory to rehearse.

It's an open square stage. Like a four way runway. They do a run through, each positioned at an opposite corner. Starting by walking away from each other so that by time they meet, perfectly timed, they can toss their mic to the other as they walk by. It takes a couple runs to nail it. Not the toss but musical timing. They don't stop until it's perfect. Both girls maniacs when it comes to detail. Feeling confident in their flow and timing together, they cut out just after midnight.

Luna, Ashley and her band head to this neat little place called Up-Down to unwind with drinks and bar food. They hang out for a bit. Going over the show, bullshitting and playing pinball. Luna Snaps Colson while at the bar. Laughing, buzzed and full they wrap it up. Luna and Ashley have an interview in the morning.

Before going to sleep the two girls go over any last minute details of their performance. They're sitting on Luna's bed, sharing a joint also.

"Dude." A giggly Luna grabs Ashley's knee. "We're gonna do a fucking show together."

Of all their years, besides karaoke, they've never been on stage together.

"I know!!!" Ashley excitedly shakes her whole crossed legged body on the bed. "We're gonna fucking kill it!!" She exclaims to Luna's laughter.

--------------------------------------------------

Once Colson and Casie are home, he checks flight schedules real quick.

She's watching TV while he makes them dinner and a few phone calls. One to Emma, that goes according to plan. Then another.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asks.

After dinner, Colson gets Casie ready for bed. She has school tomorrow. They read 3 of her favorite books and he sings What I Got. It's their goodnight song. Tucking her in, he tells her that Mommy will pick her up from school but he'll see her the next day. Asking why, she's satisfied with his explanation. He tucks in with a tight squeeze, an I love you and a kiss.

Going into his room to collect himself, he lights a joint and checks his phone. Finding a Snap from Luna.

Opening it, he's pleased with his earlier decision. Snapping her back, he finishes the joint before climbing into bed. Trying not to miss her.

--------------------------------------------------

Ashley wakes up before Luna. As always. Learning over the years, she enjoys the half hour to herself that it usually takes to get her friend out of bed. She finally rises Luna with coffee, who immediately rolls a joint. They have a system.

Ashley showers first, while Luna sits with her, the joint and coffee. Holding it for Ashley to hit when she pops out her wet head.

Luna rolls another. Finishing in the shower, Ashley does the same for her.

Out of the shower, looking for clothes, Luna finally checks her phone. There's a Snap from Colson, amongst other things. But first, Colson.

"Oh my Fuck. He's fucking handsome." Even looking tired, he makes her body flush and pussy swell. Her heart misses him."

"Hey! You wearing this?" Ashley asks, pulling Luna out of her phone. Distracted she sets it down.

"Uhhhh... Nah. Go ahead." Luna says. She pulls on ripped black skinies, a sequin black tank and a long sleeve sheer white shirt. She puts on a deep purple lip before slipping on her white Chucks.

Luna stands up, just as Ashley asks "Ready?"

"Yup." Luna nods, grabbing her bag.

And awaaaaay they go......

--------------------------------------------

Luna and Ashley arrive at the station on time, which is amazing for them. Ashley's team is close behind. Luna likes them individually but finds an entourage annoying. Plus, she's not used to Ashley being as famous as she is now. To Luna, they're still just two kids running around, hanging out.

Luna and Ashley sit bullshitting in the back room. There's really no way to prepare for an interview, there's always room to go off track. They both know this and each other well enough to let it organically flow.

They look up as the door opens. Expecting to go on. They're not.

It's Dom and Colson.

Dom grabs Ashley, splattering her surprised, happy face with kisses.

Luna exclaims "Holy FUCK!!" Tears welling in her eyes as she jumps onto Colson.

Kissing him like he's her dying breath.

"What the fuck are you doing here!?" She asks in awe while still kissing him all over.

"We've come to watch the Nightmare!" Dom exclaims, pulling his mouth off of Ashley's. She pulls him back in.

Still in his arms, Luna looks at Colson smiling. "Really?" She asks. "What about Case?"

"Yeah, Em's gonna grab her from school and I'll pick her up tomorrow." He reassures her to another passionate kiss. They missed each other.

An intern walks into the two couples making out. "Oh!" She says before turning around.

Breaking away from Colson she calls "No, no, no..." Before kissing him once more and sliding off his body. "We're ready." She says.

The boys kiss the girls good luck before they head into the studio.

--------------------------------------------

"So we've got Halsey here. She's doing a free concert tonight at The Armory. We've also got That Brooklyn... Uh, I don't know if I can say this on air... Can I just call you That Brooklyn Babe?" Steve, one of the radio hosts asks.

"Absolutely Not." Luna answers quickly without hesitation. "Stick to simply Brooklyn if you're worried." She tells him.

"Ok... Ok.." Steve agrees.

"You can tell she's from NY!!" The co-host Dave chimes in. Luna gives him a side eye with raised eyebrows.

"Where the FUCK does Ash have me??" She thinks.

Steve starts up again "So you guys are here because you have a record together, Nightmare. It's #1 on The Pop charts. I think it's even #12 on The Alternative..." He looks around checking his notes. "Yep. Yep. #12.... You ladies must be incredibly proud. In all my years, I don't think I've ever heard a song as cutting or direct. I have to tell you. As a man, the song is a bundle of emotions. I literally go from fearing you, to wanting to change the world for you to feeling stupid for feeling like I have to save you."

Ashley and Luna speak at the same time.

Luna stating a solid "Good."

While Ashley offers up at sweet "Awww... Thank you."

Both girls give each other a cocked smile and amused side eye. Ashley plays the game. Luna not so much.

Laughing, Ashley leans in. "That's the idea. For you to see us as equals. Not ones who need to be saved and definitely not feared, although a little fear is good." She cocks her lip and winks at Steve.

"One's who deserve choices and options." Luna chimes in. "This isn't about us playing on the same baseball field. We're equal as human beings but in two different leagues because we are different. Men require different things than women and vice versa. This is about RESPECTING each other and what the other needs and is entitled to. Constitutionally. At least up until less then a month ago."

Luna's not afraid to drop political bombs. It's a lot of the reason why she doesn't do promos. There's no bullshitting with her when a real conversation is at hand.

"You have that song Bad Things with MGK right, Brook.. Brooklyn, is it?" Dave cuts in, stumbling over her name.

Luna knows his tactic but the thought of Colson softens her.

"Yes... I think we're at #5. He's actually about to drop an album on July 5th, Hotel Diablo. It's sick." She squeezes in the plug. "He's actually on the Nightmare record. Him and his band are who recorded with us. We'll be on SNL with them next Saturday." Luna lets out to Ashley's shock. You can't deny, Luna gives a good plug.

"Really?" Asks Steve. He goes on. "So you have this" He uses finger quotes. "'Girl Power' song with this 'Girl Power' video backed by an all male band?" He tilts his head as he asks.

"Yup." Luna's lips pop. "Strong women back men everyday. Why the fuck can't strong men back women?"

"Ohhhhh!!!" There's a howl to the F word. Her important point being lost.

"He's here, isn't he?" Dan asks. "With your boyfriend, Yung Blud?" He turns to Ashley.

"Yeah." She states not thinking anything of it.

"Can we bring 'em in?" Steve looks around, more asking the studio then the women.

"Uhhhh... Yeah... I guess..." Ashley says, unsure looking at Luna's 'What The Fuck???'

A few moments later a giddy Dom and unsure Colson head into the studio. Sitting next to each other, between their girlfriends, they slide their headphones on.

"Hey guys!!" Dan shouts.

"What's up!" Dom shouts back to Colson's "Sup."

Colson and Luna exchange an easy look of understanding. Neither of them is about this life.

"So, we've got 4 of the biggest pop stars right now, in our studio. We have Halsey and her boyfriend Yung Blud. And Machine Gun Kelly and his girlfriend.... We're gonna try it, we'll see if we get bleeped... That Brooklyn Bitch. Now you all are DOMINATING the charts right now. We've got at least 5 Top 40 hits between you guys and most are collaborations."

He's met to their "Yeahs."

He continues "So, tell me. You're all obviously friends and... partners. Is there any competition? Like, Halsey and Brooklyn, are you afraid your boyfriends will knock you out of #1?"

Luna and Ashley look at each other. Ashley speaks first.

"Nooooo.... Like you said, we're all friends. If I Think I'm Okay knocks us out, that's fine. What's most important to Lu.." She corrects herself. "Brooklyn and I is the message. Speaking out for those who can't. Bringing a voice to those who don't in Alabama and across the world. As much as you want to deny it, they're taking our rights away."

"Now nobodies trying to take..." Dave interrupts Ashley but Colson interrupts him.

"But they are, Dude. The fact that a woman who may conceive during a rape can be sentenced longer then the piece of shit who violates her is disgusting." He states firmly.

Luna's heart pounds and swells with pride. "This amazing MOTHERFUCKER."

"It's about lovin each other and lettin each live." Dom steps in. "There's many people's in this world who aren't treated fairly. Nightmare focuses on one specific section. In a smart, blunt way. You can't help but hear it. And if it wasn't true, it wouldn't resonate and it wouldn't be #1." He sits back in his chair.

Luna leans up. "Like Dom was saying, we have a voice. We're going to use it. Anyone out there, please write into AL's local legislature if you want. Support your local ACLU, look into Yellowhammer.com and listen. Always listen. And after you listen, if you have something to say, speak. Please don't be afraid to speak. Silence is any nastiness's dearest ally."

"Are we gonna get ANYTHING juicy from you guys??" Steve asks.

This pisses Luna off.

"What did you expect? You invited two strong women with a politically charged song onto your show?" She asks with her hands up.

"Just.. Just tell me.. Do you all hang out?" Steve asks pathetically, looking for any detail of their lives.

The four of them look at each other and erupt into laugher.

"Yeah, Man." Colson says.

"Of course we hang out, we're best mates!" Dom chimes in.

"Yeah, we all live together too..." Ashley adds.

"Unh-hunh, in beautiful polygamy glory in the Hollywood Hills." Luna finishes.

The four of them erupt into laughter again to the host's dismay.

Luna controls herself. "No, seriously. We all get along really well. Halsey and I have been bestfriends forever. Nightmare is REALLY important. We're debuting it at The Armory tonight. We hope to see you guys there..." She looks at the others. "Hotel Diablo July 5th. Bad Things...."

Ashley pops in "11 minutes, I Think I'm Okay both streaming now. Get some... Tonight's gonna be awesome. We can't wait to see you guys there!!!"

Colson hops on too, laughing. "And Hollywood Whore!" He shouts to the others laughter.

"And don't forget Tales of the Ritalin Club!!" Luna comes back in with a snicker.

"Yes! Yes!" Laughs Dom. "And Eastside.." They continue to shamelessly plug and laugh until Steve talks over them.

"That was Yung Blud and MGK. Halsey with That Brooklyn Bitch. Their debuting their #1 hit Nightmare tonight at The Armory. If it's anything like this interview, I'm sure it will be crazy. We'll be back!"

Nightmare plays them out.

--------------------------------------------------

The four of them tumble laughing into the hallway.

"Come're!!!" Ashley calls. Gathering around a mirror she finds, they pose for cramped selfie. She posts on Instagram immediately.

Fun interview today with these crazy looooverrrrsssss 💘💘💘💘See you all @thearmory l8r. It's gna be a helluva NIGHT!! #nightmare

--------------------------------------------------

Luna, Colson, Dom and Ashley roam DownTown Minneapolis. It's early enough on a Monday for Ashley and Colson to not be recognized.

They have lunch and do some shopping. Luna picking up a beautiful, turquoise cuff. Before long Ashley needs to head to the venue. Luna's not far behind here.

The boys will meet them there later.

--------------------------------------------------

Word Limit (1 of 2)

To be continued......

#machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly #halsey #nightmare #lunatic #mgk x reader #mgk imagine #mgk smut #mgk #mgk fanfic #colson baker smut #colson baker x reader #colson baker #est19xx #est4life #fantasy #fandom #fanfic #fangirl #love story #long reads

[gentlemanmendes]

A little show | smut |

a/n: I’m back... wait no one cares but anyways here’s a smut........

"Finally!" Shawn huffed in irritation as y/n reached for her clutch and walked out of the door that he had been holding open for her for the last ten minutes nagging her to hurry up.

"Perfection takes time." Y/n retorted as she called the lift knowing that Shawn was too pissed off to acknowledge her remark.

Shawn just mumbled something along the lines of 'there better not be traffic' and y/n hoped that there wasn't any for her sake either. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped in a car with an agitated Shawn longer than necessary.  He wouldn't even let her play music when he was in his moods like this meaning the car rides felt like they took eternity just to get to their destination which was only thirty minutes away.

One of Shawn's friends was throwing a surprise birthday party for his girlfriend but what the big surprise was that he was planning to propose to her in front of every one.

'Well that's just stupid if you ask me.' Y/n had responded when shawn had told her of his friends intentions. 'A proposal shouldn't be for show, it should be to prove to your partner why you want to be with them for the rest of your life.'

Y/n assumed that remark and the fact that she was stuck in traffic on the way home, delaying the pair an extra thirty minutes, was the reason why Shawn was so pissed at this very moment. She knew however that after a few drinks and a night of socializing he would be back to his usual self and that she didn't have anything to worry about. Everyone has their moody moments, and everyone is entitle to their own emotions, so y/n didn't see the point in getting worked up over nothing. However every time Shawn opened his mouth to rant about something y/n couldn't help but respond with some sort of remark.

'Really another red light.' Shawn would scoff slamming his hands on the steering wheel in iteration.

'Yes Shawn, after all the lights do need to change colour.' Y/n would reply causing Shawn to roll his eye and mutter under his breath.

After thirty minutes of driving and ten minutes of looking for parking and another ten minutes for y/n to walk from the car to the hotel in her heels, Shawn was growing more irritated by the second.

"Yes y/n, that was exactly what I wanted, to arrive to the party tomorrow." He shook his head combing his fingers through his hair as he waited for y/n to catch up to him.

"Of course baby, all I want is to make you happy." Y/n grinned speaking with a sickly sweet tone as she pressed a kiss to Shawn's cheek knowing it would only worsen his mood. Something about ticking him off was amusing to y/n. So what they were running a little late, it's not like it was the most important event in the world.

He sent her a cold glare letting her know that he wasn't impressed before beginning to walk again, y/n carefully in tow.

"You know if you wanted to get there quicker you could always carry me." Y/n snickered attempting to make Shawn snap. He ignored her and continued walking ahead of her finally reaching the hotel where the party was being held.

Stepping into the lift Shawn let out a huff as his fingers hit the top floor button and the lift slowly began moving up.

"There's no point in showing up now, everyone's probably already left." He muttered leaning against the opposite wall that y/n was leaning against so they were facing each other, Shawn with that scowl that had been there for the past hour while y/n stood watching him with her arms crossed over her chest clearly entertained.

"What a shame no hot men left to impress. to think I got all dressed up for nothing." She pouted knowing this time she had done it. In a matter of seconds, so fast y/n had barley  caught glimpse of it, Shawn had hit the emergency stop   button and now had his body pressed against y/n's so she was now standing pressed against the wall, chest to chest with Shawn, the fabric of their clothing being the only thing separating them as she stared up at his darkened expression clearly proud of herself, after all she had accomplished what she wanted.

"You know what, I'm sick of you and your smart ass mouth." Shawn's hot, heavy breath fanned over y/n's lips as his hands cupped her face, his thumb moving to her lips where she part her lips and playfully bit down on it. "I can think of more useful things to do with it."

As much as she tried not to, y/n couldn't help but smile knowing she had won. Her eyes stayed wide as she looked up innocently at Shawn batting her eyelashes.

"What did you have in mind?" She quizzed Shawn's thumb still resting on her lipstick coated bottom lip. She mentally thanked her lucky stars that she had chosen the right day to wear a matte.

"I think you know baby girl." Shawn husked before slamming his lips against y/n's causing her to give a small sigh in pleasure having missed the feeling all day. She easily gave into his touch wanting nothing more than to fall apart in his arms knowing he would catch her. Within seconds the kiss became rough with Shawn's hands running up and down y/n's sides grabbing harshly at her waist, hips, and ass, anywhere he could get his hands. Her back was pressed against the wall while her chest pressed against Shawn's.

His hands made their way to the back of her thighs giving them a harsh squeeze causing her to loose her balance only for Shawn to pull her legs up and force them around his waist hoisting her up higher against the wall, their faces now at the same height no longer forcing  Shawn to bend down.

Shawn's lips moved down to her neck starting a pleasurable assault that had y/n's yearning grow. Y/n leaned her head back, angling hoping to take in more of the electrifying feeling that Shawn was sending through her causing the heat inside her to build up.  Her back arched from the cold wall pressing her chest more into Shawn's as if she were trying to merge there bodies in every way possible. Taking matters into her own hands, y/n began grinding against  Shawn's hardening crotch knowing that he would delay the inevitable for as long as he possibly could but Shawn didn't like y/n taking matters into her own hands and slammed her hips harder against the wall causing y/n to inhale in surprise as he began grinding harder and faster against her heated core causing a string of  pleas to fall from y/n's parted lips as she began begging him for anything more.

Through hooded eyes y/n was able to make out a small black circular object in the far corner of the lift.  

"Shawn there's a camera." Although she was panicked her tone didn't show it due to the longing cry in her voice as she anticipated on shawn taking things further.

"Then I guess we're putting on a little show." Shawn husked his tone menacing as he stopped grinding against y/n causing her to watch him cautiously. What was he up to?

With one hand he reached his hand down to her parted legs where he found her completely soaked through her panties and the black stocking that were covering her bottom half.

Shawn gave a groan in approval before he tore the front half of her stockings creating easy access to her soaked core sliding on finger through enjoying the way her wetness allowed him to slide in so effortlessly.

Meanwhile his mouth worked on moving lower to her half exposed chest. Y/n pushed down the top half of her dress before reaching back and unclamping her bra throwing it behind Shawn and not caring to watch where it landed as she watched Shawn's lips achingly slowly move towards her perked nipples.

Right now she didn't care if the whole world was watching through that camera. All she knew was that she had an aching desire to feel Shawn and would stop at nothing until that desire was for filled.

Shawn's finger slipped out just as easily as it had slipped into y/n causing her to whine out in annoyance. She pushed Shawn's mouth away from her boob as she reached for the belt of his pants and unbuckled it followed by tugging down his pants along with his boxers harshly, just enough so she could free his hardened member.

"My back pocket." Shawn breathlessly spoke as y/n's cold fingers stroked up and down his aching shaft, desperate for attention.  

Y/n slipped her hand into Shawn's back pocket pulling out his wallet. Finding the small packet she was looking for she carelessly discarded the wallet as if it were trash only caring about having Shawn finally inside her.

She toyed with the tip of his member teasingly before sliding on the condom. As soon as she had slid it on Shawn was back to taking control. With his hands digging into her hips he pushed her back against the wall before lying himself up and sliding inside her slowly hissing at the feeling of her tight walls wrapped around him.

His hands stayed on her hips holding her up while he began to thrust slowly starting to set a pace that only grew faster and harder while her legs stayed wrapped tightly around him allowing him to go deep.

Shawn's lips moved teasingly to y/n's ear as his husky voice said,"Why don't you put that mouth to good use and start screaming my name baby girl."

At Shawn's words y/n let out a moan followed by another as his lips met her other nipple nibbling softly on it.

The pleasure taking over her was almost unbearable and y/n hadn't been aware that it could grow until Shawn's thumb moved to her aching clit and began rubbing fast, hard circles to match his thrusts. He was trying to make her come as quickly as possible as if he had a point to prove. Opening her eyes, y/n lowered her gaze to where Shawn's lips wrapped around her nipple, toying with it in some many ways she hadn't known was possible. As if sensing her gaze on him Shawn looked up holding y/n's gaze as he switched boobs again, leaving hickeys along her soft skin as he mumbled "do you like watching me pleasure you baby?"  

"Fuck yes Shawn, yes." Y/n cried out as her hands knotted into Shawn's hair, tugging hard as he continued to pull out of her and slam her back into the wall.

The multiple amounts of pleasure coming from different areas of her body was slowly driving her over the edge as she tried desperately to hold on as long as she could until she could no longer take it. At her loud moans during her release Shawn finally left his attention from y/n's boobs and made his way back to her mouth relishing on the feeling of her moans as he kissed her. He went faster letting y/n know that he was close to his peak as he trusted into her, her juices making his trusts sloppier as she continued to pant the sensitivity starting to build up again. She was surprised that she was already reaching her second climax so soon but continued to fight her tongue against Shawn's as they fought for dominance, a constant on going battle that neither ever wanted to give into.

Shawn's lips finally stopped moving against y/n's as his release came hard, taking over his whole body as he went rigid against y/n her mouth opening wide letting out another series of loud cusses along with Shawn's name as she came for a second time.

Slowly Shawn pulled out of y/n, slowly unwrapping her legs from around his waist gently placing them in the ground as y/n leaned against the wall attempting to regain herself.

Shawn picked up y/n's bra along with his wallet handing the former back to her.

"So you like my smart ass mouth?" Y/n teased as she turned around allowing Shawn to help her clip her bra on and zip up her dress as she still attempted to catch her breath.

Realizing that he r stockings were now a hopeless, lost caused she pulled them off and threw them in the corner causing Shawn to stifle a laugh as he pressed the button causing the lights to switch back on and the lift to star it's rise to the top floor again.

"Well it's not like they have my name on them!" Y/n defended as Shawn continued to look at her ripped stocking in the corner and laughed. "You owe me a new pair." She pouted as she crossed her arms over her chest looking like a child pouting over their favorite toy being broken.

Shawn came up behind y/n as the lift reached the floor they were meant to be on, the party still clearly in full swing.

"I'll buy you as many pairs as you want, as long as I get to rip every single one of them." Shawn slapped her ass sending her a wink before striding past her and into the party that they were now over an hour late for.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you

[howveryheather]

farewell to a friend

A really special guy I went to high school with committed suicide last week.

I can’t believe this is a sentence I’m writing. It does not feel real. I have been extremely fortunate to have gone (almost) 30 years in my life and not lost anyone who, I felt, was close to me or touched my life in a major way. This particular guy was so funny in high school. We had a few classes together and I loved it because he was always cracking wise. We wrote for the newspaper together and I loved his column, an op/ed about misc. thoughts he had roaming around in his mind. Every year, he wrote crazy things in people’s yearbooks so their parents could see it and go, “what did you two do together?” He did that up until graduating in 2005, when my last yearbook message from him turned deeply thoughtful. (Although I can’t tell you in verbatim what that message said because my yearbooks are about 2000 miles away from me and it has probably been a decade since I last opened them up.)

I don’t know if this news would have hurt me as much if high school was my last interaction with him. But, it wasn’t. The last time I saw him was three years ago at the start of 2015. I’ve spoken vaguely about the start of that year and the place I was in, but I now feel like I can openly talk about it. 

At the start of 2015, my life as I knew it was ruined. I had been fired from my job (that’s a story for another time), had to sell everything I owned including my prized bed from Pottery Barn, and move back in with my parents. Amidst everyone getting married, buying houses, being promoted, and having children, I felt like a failure. I didn’t know how long I would be unemployed for (spoiler alert: it was almost a year), if I would ever get another job again (I would), and where my next job would take me (Orange County). All I knew was that I was back home where I had a nonexistent network. I interviewed for jobs everywhere in my hometown, determined to make something stick. I didn’t get any offers, but I did get a cold at one of those interviews that stuck with me for almost a month because the receptionist was very sick. So yeah, that was that. In total, only three people who were not blood relatives offered me any form of support in that city — an old friend from high school who talked about careers and the future with me, my best friend who took me to a wine bar a few days after I arrived, and this guy, who messaged me on Facebook to see if I wanted to meet up at Starbucks. He had absolutely no idea what was going on with me and it had been so long since I had seen him that I immediately said yes. He could have asked me to walk through a burning pit with him and I would have been like hell yeah, where and when. I wanted to catch up and hear about his life, desperate to be distracted from my present circumstances and hungry to connect again in person.

When we met up, he looked the same as he did in high school. He was a year older than me. He was reading a book which is something to note because everyone’s always staring at a screen today. He looked up at me and smiled and suddenly I was so very comforted. Every time I recount this story back to my inner circle, they immediately ask me if I had a crush on this guy. It makes sense to ask, since I always spoke so highly of him and he was cute. I had a lot of crushes in high school - hormonal af - but absolutely none on him. I had some weird hindsight way back then to put him directly into the friendzone. Plus, there was no sexual attraction there at all. There was good chemistry though, since we were both writers who respected one another’s craft. 

We talked for hours on end and discussed what we had been up to since high school. He prodded gently at me to talk about why I was back in town again and I told him the truth - the firing and how it came about, which is still, in my opinion, massively unfair. I was deathly afraid to tell him any of this. I was barely even admitting it out loud to myself. But, I didn’t feel scared with him. It was because I knew I wouldn’t be judged. 

When we said goodbye that night, that was the last time I saw him alive in person.

We kept in touch via social media in the years that followed. His life, for what I observed of it in those small fragments shared online, seemed to be doing well. He was on the road traveling. He had a girlfriend and a dog. He was working, although I was never entirely sure where at. In the week that the news broke, he was still actively posting to Facebook.

Then suddenly, everything fell apart. I found out on Thursday night - these posts on his wall that were scary to read. “I’ll see you with the angels, buddy.” My heart sank and just kept sinking. I reached out to a few people from high school, never wanting to assume I knew what happened because I couldn’t and hoping for the best although my heart feared for the worst. They confirmed it was a suicide and it felt like the world went hollow. 

I’ve heard the best thing to do when one is going through this kind of grief is to try to be active. Go out with friends, talk to people you care about, just try not to let it bottle up inside. I went out to dinner with a close friend Friday night. I’ll be in her wedding in a couple of months. I started talking about him and what he meant to me because he had been there for me during a time when very few people weren't even if perhaps he didn’t realize the affect it had on me. And maybe I didn’t realize it until much later either. I cried because I wished I had known he was in pain. I wished I had liked more of his posts on Facebook, wished I had been able to reach out and message him more often. The idea that life will keep happening all around me, but he won’t be there hurts to think about. 

For as much as I wished he could have shared more, I don’t know if it would have been possible. We’re in a terrible time where suicide rates are increasing — a 25% increase since 1999. Quartz recently published an article entitled “Why Are Americans So Sad?” that outlined potential contributors to suicidal thoughts and feelings. I personally think that the United States, as a country, has long been negligent when it comes to helping out the very people who exist in their own backyards. But, it’s all complicated and runs deep too. I think some good points are raised in this piece. I also think every circumstance is different and we all have our own dark places. I don’t think money can solve every problem (although it definitely helps). Same goes with success and fame. At the end of the day, we are all people just trying to do life on our own terms. That’s where I see an opportunity to help one another instead of shutting someone out. We’re all stuffed in this dumpster fire boat together. Nobody is better than someone else, or has it all figured out. Might as well grab an oar and row as a team to see where we get next. 

Social media’s awful sometimes. On the one hand, it can make you feel like nothing you do will ever measure up to what your peers on your feed are up to. On the other, there’s a good opportunity to express yourself and tell your story. I’ve been checking out of all of it for the most part. The less I pay attention to these sites and platforms, the better it is for me all around. Maybe that’s a good piece of advice for someone else to follow too.

I don’t know. I don’t know how to wrap this post up, except to say that there will never be another guy quite like this one. He loved movies, Mad Men, and superheroes. He had a big funny bone and an even bigger heart. He was a real gem. He will be missed, but he will never be forgotten.

#personal

[sesl2020]

The Details: are they God’s or the Devil’s?

I don’t care; I just love them.

Pick Stitching

Suit Linings

Interior Pockets

Flat Piping

Contrast Collars

and OMG the feel of the fabric.

In 2007 while working at Harry Rosen as Visual Coordinator for Alberta, the new spring season of Etro arrived. I almost cried. The jackets were so beautiful. Colourful mix-matched tweeds, luscious paisley satin linings and contrast lapels to die for. The guys thought I was crazy and not for the first time. (I had recently lost almost 100 lbs with Jenny Craig and was not quite sane) But…

Please excuse me while I rip off my shirt. I’m having a Chinook. This talk of menswear is making me hot. Yes ZZTop, there really is nothing sexier than a well-dressed man. Not necessarily expensive, just well. In the late 70’s/ early 80’s young men made a point of being grubby. Not even cool, like grunge, just grubby and unkempt with the absence of style. It was supposed to be Macho. Or Poetic. Hmmmm. Yes, this is the way I tell a story. Bare with me. He-Heh.

…But, the fresh new offerings reaffirmed my love of all aspects menswear. Back in the day, the mid 80’s, I remember the guys at Jack Fraser Menswear in Winnipeg where I was the Regional Display person (or Displaced Person as the called me)  teasing me at my excitement over a new box of ties. Not just any ties. New Bosa silk paisley ties. Yes, it’s supposed to sound like Boss. I got so sick of polyester neats and stripes. It was like Christmas when something new came in to go with all the pink dress shirts. Oh the 80’s.

And then again yesterday evening…. André, my hunnybunny, had gotten paid in Brooks Brothers Gift Cards. $1800 worth. Go figure. Very sadly, during the apocalypse our local Brooks Brothers closed their doors and, as far as we know, permanently.  So, unable to order online in Canadian Dollars, as usual I ended up calling them in the States where they manually entered my order and Gift Cards. Very Helpful, Thanks Michael!

Less than a week later and after paying $150 in taxes and duty Fed Ex delivered an oddly small box containing 5 pairs of dress pants, a windowpane suit jacket, and a $100 belt.  I says to André: ‘why did you order another black belt?’ He says: ‘I’ve never owned a $100 belt before.’ Fair Enough.

Eeek! forgot to do my 500 steps this hour. Back in 3.

Pant! Pant!

As he modeled them, he has a very cute butt and he knows how to strut, I was carefully taking all the tags and labels off, the feel of the fabric and the precision of the stitching brought me back to my happiest career hours picking out coordinates for the windows and dressing bust forms.  One of my weirder skills is being able to unpackage a dress shirt with all its itty bits put neatly in the shirt bag with my eyes closed in less than 5 seconds. If only there were Retail Olympics…

Anyhoo, it was the Grey Windowpane Jacket that really made me smile. The contrast red felt collar lining, the one red threaded button, the red flat piping along the interior lining and pocket. It even has a strip of lining to hold the double vents from flapping. Classic design well-executed is Nirvana. And makes me drool. 

But, don’t forget to undo the Vent stitching. It makes you look…..inexperienced.

Subtlety and Restraint are two excellent ways to describe menswear in general. Well, British and North American menswear. The Europeans are much more outgoing. As I possess neither subtlety nor restraint these are things I admire and covet. Nothing makes me happier than a faint blue, red, or bronze stripe hidden in charcoal flannel. Pick it out with a blue or oxblood tie, cognac shoes and belt and it’s sublime. Step back (5 foot rule) to see if it works. If the suit is striped add a plaid Windsor Collar shirt or if it’s plaid add a yarn-dye stripe. And a pocket square if you’re feeling impish. 

Ah the fabrics, and the ties, and the patterns and styles all with their unique lingo. Mmmm Lingo. 

Whisper with me:

Bespoke

Epaulet

Haberdashery

Collar Roll

Sartorial

Pinstripe

Sprezzatura…..

Definitely the Devil.

I’ve bought a lot of menswear over the years. For myself. My former partner would have nothing to do with anything that wasn’t an old dirty fedora and a dusty ripped trenchcoat. God, he sounds like a Flasher.  It was kind of the same thing as buying myself a present on Father Day because on Mother’s Day even after 3 children I still heard ‘you’re not my mother’. Not that I’m bitter. I gave the man Twins. What more can I do.

Having never been petite of stature or nature, sometimes menswear was my only option. 5’8, size 11 feet, and superbly curved I did not fit the skinny, big haired lollipop girl ideal of the times. Not only did they not offer any kind of fashion in a size 14-16, but all the pants were too short and all the sleeves were ¾. Ok, I had to take in all the waists in men’s stuff, but, as if being one of the only women working in menswear wasn’t enough, wearing it was my own personal rebellion against the female stereotype. That, and I loved the Jackets. Shoulder Pads reigned supreme at that time and they who had the shoulder pads had the power.

And, in any case, it was suicide to wear anything sexy or revealing. Sexual Harassment was rampant. And expected. And a man’s right. I almost stabbed a store manager to death with my wire cutters one day when he grabbed my ass and I automatically back handed him. Any job you applied for you had to have a professional answer ready for ‘How badly do you want this job?’ The things that were said to me on a daily basis even from my bosses would make your hair curl.

‘Do you know what would look good on you? Me.’

I remember a guy at the St. Vital store that kept trying to get me to go to his place for a quicky at lunch. One day I got so tired of it that I finally grabbed my tape measure and told him to whip it out ‘cause I wasn’t going to waste my time for less than 9”. He declined. And left me alone from then on. 

I digress, it’s so nice to be older and wiser and not care about being taken seriously. And people go to jail now for being…. impolite. I dress like a sexy bamf on a daily basis, embrace my curves and still have more balls than most men I’ve known. And I still love menswear.

Omg! Chinooking again. Why? Why do I wear lycra pants? Oh ya, they make my butt look almost as cute as André’s, but so hoooot. And not in a good way. Excuse me as I take them off also. That’s better.

Despite the handicap of his father, I managed to raise my son to be a well-dressed individual.  I think a lot of it was my Father’s influence as well. My Father came of age in the 50’s wearing khaki’s, Dack’s, golf jackets on the weekends and suits to work every day. And, of course, he taught me how to tie a tie. He was left-handed, but forced to be right-handed in school so he batted and tied his tie from the left. Which was awesome because I was right-handed so it all worked out when he showed me.

This is also the man who refused to by a new pair of jeans for the entire 70’s. He wouldn’t wear flares. He had a pair of twill demin pants in narrow white, yellow, and brown stripes that were so recognizable that my Great Aunt Vera recognized him from her moving vehicle as he was filling up at a gas station. It must have been the ’69 Biscayne*. She had just arrived in town from Winnipeg and hadn’t seen him for a few years. Those were some pants. But they weren’t flares.

The ‘80’s on were a big relief for him. He spent the rest of his life, we lost him to Cancer in 2005, in khakis and neat plaid short sleeved shirts and polo shirts. I kept his Grey Flannel Pants and Navy Blazer for years.

We also called him Sir…

And Again! Forgot to do my 500 steps this hour. Back in 3.

….When we would call him at the office, (in Grade 2, an avid reader, I called him every time I finished a chapter in Alice in Wonderland) you couldn’t just ask for Dad. Everybody was a Dad. So we asked to speak to George. When he came on the line he would say ‘That’s Sir to you, kid.’ And it stuck. Even our friends called him Sir. My sister’s kids called him Papa Sir. Kinda like Papa Smurf only more respectful. My youngest niece, Courtney, called him Papa Sewer, but that was just the way she spoke as a toddler. We found it very amuuuuusing. As did he.

Aaaaand, back to my son. I actually enlisted him to work part time at Rosen’s when he was 16. He wanted (or did he?) a part-time job and we needed a Saturday merchandiser. I’d already taught him and his twin sisters how to fold their clothes properly, iron a shirt, and do their laundry. I also taught them that when they look at clothing in a store they need to put it back exactly they way they found it. Respect for Retail. It was sooo fun to dress him and see him get measured for his first suit. Staff Discounts Rock! We never actually worked together at the same time, but it was cool to work at the same place.

I also told him, it being his first job, that ‘If you’re late, screw up, or make me look bad I will let them fire you.’ I also told him ‘Don’t forget we work this lifestyle, we don’t live it.’ Entitled is not a good look on anybody. He chose his Boss suit for Grad, slim fit with pointy shoes and put his long blonde hair in pony tail for the occasion. This was way before man-buns which he would have scoffed at anyway.

I was so proud of him at the first Christmas Party and and at the 2nd he wore his made to measure Tilford purple velvet peak lapel Jacket. As he danced with his girlfriend on the dancefloor I couldn’t help shouting ‘Shake what your mama gave you!’ He got me back when we did a company paintball tournament. The pic of us two in our guns an gear hung in the staff room for ages. But, kept he shooting me. It hurt.

‘William, we’re on the same team. Stop shooting me!’

‘Then stop being a pylon.’

If anyone has pics or memories of the things I’m describing, please feel free to share with rest of us!

*more on Dad’s Vehicles. ’64 Pontiac Stratochief ’71 Chevrolet Impala Custom and the Volaré Station Wagon Woh-oh. Volaré! Woh-oh-oh-no! Not a GM product. ‘Nuff Said. Stay Tuned.

#welldressedmen #menswear #devilinthedetails #metoo #haberdashery #merchandising #display

[kootenaygoon]

So,

Niles was on crutches, watering his garden.

It was late Tuesday afternoon, and we’d just put the Wednesday edition of the Star to bed. Despite the fact it was mid-October, the weather was still summery, with a light wind rustling its way up the valley. The Slocan River had a magical sheen in the distance as my RAV broke out of the trees. Brutus was running laps of the yard with a dog I didn’t recognize, too busy to bark at my arrival, so I followed the driveway around to the barn unmolested and parked beside a mud-spattered, half-deconstructed Jeep. Niles had invited me over to discuss his latest manuscript submission, which was over 100,000 words long. It sat hefty and dog-eared on my passenger seat, riddled with highlighter and scribbled notes, alongside a six-pack of Blue Buck. I wasn’t looking forward to this feedback session, because I wasn’t sure if he was mature enough to hear what I had to say.

“We’ve got the house to ourselves tonight, Goon. I’ve got the second season of Fargo queued up, plus I’ve acquired some fabulous Afghani Kush that will blow your hair back,” Niles said, his crutches squelching in the mud as he clopped over to my side door.

I lifted up his manuscript, which was called The Fox and the Fawn. “Did you forget about this?”

Since my arrival in Nelson I’d been keeping a small roster of three to five students, helping them develop everything from a fictional account of the Rwandan genocide to a fantasy novel about an autistic teen adventuring through an alternate dimension. The trouble was, I was starting to feel like an imposter. My repeated attempts at finishing Whatever you’re on, I want some hadn’t resulted in the fame and glory I was imagining, and now I was wondering if I’d been kidding myself this whole time. Yeah, I had my Master’s, but so what? Could I really be a writer? And if not, was I really worthy of being a teacher? Who was I kidding?

“I figured you would’ve burned that thing the moment you realized what a gargantuan turd it is,” Niles said, his blond hair hanging limply around his dishevelled face. He wasn’t looking healthy.

I climbed out and shut the door. “I read some of it to my new roommate Mika, actually. We had a little reading in my living room.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yeah, she wanted to hear the sex scene.”

Niles roared with delight. That’s what he was always looking for, an audience to the lewd reality of his existence. As far as he was concerned, he was the best kind of criminal — the kind that never gets caught. The Fox and the Fawn was a fangirl tribute to himself, to his gangster exploits as a Slocan Valley weed king. With legalization finally here, he felt it was time to tell his story. The manuscript was Bukowski mixed with Kerouac, demented and perverse and shockingly violent. At one point he even casually admits to date rape, including a scene where his girlfriend rages at him for taking advantage of her while he was drunk.

“I didn’t know you had a new roommate,” he said. “What happened to Brendan?”

“Nothing. I just found a new place, levelled up. Teamed up with this girl Mika who works at my pot dispensary. She’s got a pet rabbit.”

“You’re still getting your shit from there? Why aren’t you coming to me?”

Niles was wearing a brown bathrobe. He opened his front door, told me not to worry about my shoes, then handed me the crutches while he hopped on one foot up the carpeted staircase. He grunted and sighed with each step, muttering swear words under his breath. I’d never seen him like this. When we reached the top I gave him his crutches and the beer, and he motioned for me to take a seat in the living room. As I passed by the familiar John Cooper paintings, I noticed that he’d hung the self-portrait I’d given him as a present a month earlier. I’d painted it with Natalya.

“You hung my painting upside down?”

He laughed, opening the fridge. “Yeah, I dunno why I did that. Just seemed to me like it looks better that way. I get a kick out of it.”

I shook my head. For the past month I’d been painting furiously, and it felt like a swirling green portal had opened up inside my brain. My writing may have stalled, but this was a way to channel my creativity into something other than journalism. I was getting sick of the Star, getting sick of taking the same pictures of the same fundraiser events, getting sick of the constraints. My relationship with Ed and Kai was strained too, as they were tired of my entitled laziness. Maybe they knew I was stoned every day, slumping into the office uninspired and half-assing my stories. I felt like the universe was wasting me, but painting had become a soothing therapy, something I did exclusively for myself. I was giving myself permission to be sloppy and flamboyant and outrageous, slathering my canvases with dribbling glitter and chaotic streaks of inspiration. This painting I’d given Niles was my first.

As he banged around in the kitchen, I walked over to the living room window and looked out at the Slocan Valley. The trees were the colour of flames, red and orange and electric yellow, and they matched the darkening sky. Lately I’d been feeling a subtle dread, like the magic was slowly draining from my surroundings. Winter is coming. I hated being single, hated being a chronic stoner, and hated how much of my life I spent stressing out about money. In university I’d become so convinced that I had life sorted out, that I was on a consistently upwards trajectory, that it was only a matter of time before I would be rewarded with creative success and lifelong fulfillment. Now I wasn’t so sure. It was easy to blame Paisley and all the drama she’d brought to my life, but she’d been gone for over a year now. At some point I would have to address my own shit without using her as a scapegoat.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, man.”

Niles scuffed back into the living room holding our beers. “This?”

“The Kootenays. The Star. I got into a bit of a scrap with Kai and Ed today, in the newsroom,” I said. “Over our coverage of Me Too.”

He laughed, sinking into his recliner. “You’re too radical for them?”

I shook my head, crossed to the couch. “I’ve just been seeing all these posts, right? Women sharing their trauma, men self-flagellating, but the discourse isn’t actually going anywhere. It’s not actually accomplishing anything. But I wanted to do something tangible, so I interviewed the superintendent and a bunch of principals about how they’re responding to it. Just to get it official, on the record, how they plan to change things.”

He snorted. “I’m sure they loved that.”

“So I hand in this 1200-word behemoth of a story, with all these different angles and perspectives, and they told me it didn’t have any teeth. They said it’s just a bunch of talking heads. I tried to argue, you know, that it’s important to be holding these people accountable and that their words are powerful, but they weren’t hearing it. They said if I’m going to write a story about sexual assault then I need a real sexual assault.”

He frowned, shrugged. “So what’re you going to do?”

I felt myself getting worked up. For the past few days I’d been endlessly scrolling through Twitter and Facebook, feeding on the outrage and vitriol. It was bringing everything up, Trent and Galloway and my strange obsession with crucifixion. The topic of sexual violence was like an intricate bomb I was trying to defuse with nothing but a screwdriver. As far as I was concerned, the conversation had to move beyond the rage to solutions. Men had to own their complicity, with more than just empty words, and propose tangible solutions. I was determined to prove Kai and Ed wrong, to show that my journalism had real teeth.

“Well, I’ve already started writing a column about it. About my personal feelings on the subject. And I’m going to illustrate it with a picture of my face with the words ‘Part of the Problem’ scrawled across my forehead.”

Niles laughed. “That should piss off the right people.”

“Not only that, I’ve found two girls who are willing to go on record about their assaults. One who was a student at Elephant Mountain Secondary, and the other from Selkirk College. If I do this right, this could be the most powerful story I’ve written since coming to the Star. Like, I think it could be a really big deal.” 

“Well, Goon,” he said. “I think your saviour complex is alive and kicking.”

Eventually we pivoted to discussing his manuscript, and I flipped through it on the coffee table as I took him through my notes. All of his female characters came off as interchangeable, he had a tendency to summarize scenes rather than depict them, and by the end of the narrative he came off as completely unlikeable. Being self-deprecating is one thing, but it was like he was going out of his way to shock the reader with his shitty behaviour. It felt like he was daring his audience to hate him. At times it reminded me of the memoir A Crowbar in the Buddhist Garden, by Stephen Reid, so I recommended he check it out for inspiration. I felt Reid struck a fine balance between owning his mistakes and aspiring to be a better human being.

“That’s the bank robber?”

“Yeah, they made a movie about him. Point Break.”

“That surfer movie with Keanu Reeves?”

“I think they fictionalized it a bit. The point is, there’s a guy who has actually grappled with his own soul. That takes balls.”

He nodded. “A Crowbar in the Buddhist Garden. I like that.”

Once we were finished with notes, Niles padded off into his bedroom and returned with an elaborate dragon-themed bong. As we smoked together I thought of the caterpillar from the animated version of Alice in Wonderland, asking in his condescending tone “Who are you?” That was the sort of question that was getting harder to answer all the time. Thinking about rape culture all day had me hating myself to the point where I felt physically sick, but at other times I was convinced of my own prophethood, my special destiny to save the world somehow. If I could tackle this Me Too story from exactly the right angle I knew it could have a legit impact. Everyone was encouraging women to speak while men listen, but I had been listening. And now I had something to say. I leaned back in the couch and examined the light fixture in the ceiling, composing my column in my head.

“Here,” Niles said. “You want another hit?”

The Kootenay Goon

[ponyregrets]

No One Told You Life Was Gonna Be This Way

Kabby social media AU, 3200 words, T

did u know that 1. it is @kane-and-griffin‘s birthday 2. she accidentally went viral for ranting about Friends and 3. once I start thinking about how A Thing (random example: Marcus Kane writing viral Friends tweets) would go down I cannot stop until I just write the thing

anyway happy birthday claire!!

Marcus Kane is, unfortunately, very familiar with the Nice Guy phenomenon.

It's an occupational hazard of writing science fiction, especially in the internet age; all he has to do is look for his most obnoxious fans, and he finds an unfortunately loud contingent of entitled mostly white men who believe that the world owes them women and happiness without any effort on their parts. It's something he tries to combat as much as possible, wherever he can, and he knows it works in some cases. For every reader who's turned against him for being an SJW cuck (whatever that means), he has another who's expressed appreciation for his opening them up to perspectives they hadn't considered and broadened their empathy and understanding.

That's what sci-fi should do, as far as Marcus is concerned. The heart of science fiction is acceptance and unity.

Which is why he tells Bellamy, "I need you to do one of those Twitter threads for me."

"For what?" Bellamy asks, wary. As Marcus's assistant, he seems to think his most important duty is talking Marcus out of interacting with social media. And he may be right.

"Ross Gellar."

It takes him a second. "The guy from Friends?" he finally asks.

"Yes. I want to explain to my followers why he's bad romantic lead and role model."

To his shock, the response is instant. "Okay."

"No arguments? No lecture on how that isn't what Twitter is for?"

"No, fuck Ross," he says. "What do you want to say? I'll make it happen."

Marcus clucks his tongue. "I'll write up a statement."

* Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Last week, while ill, I watched Friends on Netflix for the first time. So, a thread on friendship, romance, Joey Tribiani, and Ross Gellar.

O @o-so-cool reblogged Sometimes my brother's boss is pretty okay.

raven @queenreyesthefirst reblogged brb adding @kanemarcus to non-sucky white dude sci-fi authors and shipping him with @scalzi

Finn Collins @finnishfirst reblogged this is kind of interesting but way too hard on ross. he does a lot of good things! see thread

Bellamy @bradburybell reblogged this is not nearly hard enough on ross

Clarke Griffin @clarkegriffin reblogged Relevant to your interests @ark-abby

*

"So here's what I think happened," says Bellamy. He's brought Marcus a coffee without being prompted, so whatever it is must be bad.

Marcus takes a sip of the drink. "When?"

"With your Twitter rant."

"Ah. I assume there are a lot of protests from the louder, stupider portion of my fanbase about how I've allowed the liberal fake media destroy my mind and masculinity?"

"Yeah, there are some of those. But, uh--it went way past your fanbase."

"Excuse me?"

"This is your most retweeted post ever. Not even close. It's viral. You've got people fighting you, people telling you it's a revelation, and about a thousand new followers already. In the last day."

He frowns. "Is Friends really still that popular?"

"Apparently." He shrugs. "Clarke says you made Buzzfeed and a couple of the other aggregator sites too. She and Raven have been texting me updates. They think it's hilarious."

"What does that mean?"

"Honestly? I don't fucking know. I told you when you hired me I'm not actually good at this stuff. I tried to warn you."

"You did." He takes another sip of coffee. "So, what do you think happened?"

"My sister retweeted it, and she spends about ninety percent of her time thinking about her social media brand, so she's got a ton of followers. Then Raven picked it up from her, her tech friends got a hold of it, and after that--" He shrugs. "You got out of your niche and into broader Twitter, and I'm not going to be able to find anything useful in your notifications for weeks. It's all Ross/Joey shipping discourse. Clarke's words, not mine," he adds.

"Should I be concerned?"

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out if it actually sells more books. And Clarke thinks we should try to leverage it into more publicity, she's got an idea for that."

Marcus hasn't actually met most of Bellamy's friends, but he references them enough that he knows who they are. Octavia, sister, Raven, ex-girlfriend, Clarke, current girlfriend. He also knows that all of them are more familiar with social media than Bellamy is, so he's not surprised that he consulted them.

Mostly, though, he still can't believe anyone really cares about this.

"An idea to leverage the Friends discourse?"

Bellamy shrugs. "Apparently this fit into an ongoing conversation she's been having with her mother. Abby Griffin? She writes for Ark AV. She did that think-piece about what mainstream science fiction gets wrong about female characters."

"Ah," says Marcus. He remembers the article, which had been harsh but ultimately fair, and an interesting take, once he'd gotten over the initial hurt of being used in a not entirely positive light. "I didn't know that was Clarke's mother."

"Yeah, I figured I'd tell you later. Once I didn't think you were going to call her up and argue with her about how much better you've gotten."

"And now you don't think I will?"

"Honestly, I don't care. I just want to see you guys fight about Friends," he says. "That sounds awesome."

"So, you have no ulterior motives here. Just looking out for my best interests."

"Obviously."

"If she's Clarke's mother, I assume she's local? Or will I be fighting her on a podcast?"

"We were thinking Starbucks on Saturday. Caffeine and lots of witnesses."

Marcus finally lets himself open up Twitter, now that he's had enough coffee. He almost always has some notifications when he looks; he's a public figure with a passionate fanbase, he's used to people trying to talk to him on Twitter. That's why he has a Twitter in the first place. But the number of notifications has never been so high, not in his memory. And, as Bellamy said, it really is a lot of passionate Friends discourse, both for and against his opinions. It's an overwhelming amount of love, hate, and passion. Like discovering an entirely new world.

He thought he understood fandom, but apparently he has a long way to go.

"Starbucks would be fine," he tells Bellamy, a little faintly. "I'd enjoy that."

*

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus A lot of new followers today. Here are a few notes for you:

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus I am a published science fiction author. Those of you telling me to just write a book instead of many tweets, I have written many books.

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus You can find the link to purchase them in my header.

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus I have never claimed to be an expert on Friends. This was my first time watching, and these are my impressions based on one viewing.

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus My opinion on the Friends canon does not invalidate yours. Yours is as valid as it ever was. But if you feel threatened, examine that.

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus My ideas may have merit you're reluctant to fully accept because of your own perceptions of how things should be in relationships.

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus If you followed me for more Friends content, please be aware this is an outlier. I usually talk about science fiction.

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus On that note, would anyone like to discuss the Hugo Awards?

Masper @gogglesdonothing Replying to @kanemarcus ross/rachel is forever tho

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus and @gogglesdonothing I'll take that as a no.

Jonty @themediumgreen Replying to @kanemarcus and @gogglesdonothing I'm so sorry Mr. Kane just ignore him I want to talk about the Hugos tell me all your favorite winners do you like Chuck Tingle

Jonty @themediumgreen Replying to @gogglesdonothing I CAN'T TAKE YOU ANYWHERE

*

Marcus will admit he does not feel broadly prepared to seriously enter the Friends discourse. He is, after all, a neophyte. If there are scholarly works on Friends, he has not read them. If there's any academic discussion of these issues, he is not familiar with it. His knowledge is vague and still forming, but for some people, this show was a huge part of their development. It matters to them on a deep, personal level.

For him, it was a decent use of his time while he was sick and confined to his couch. He had a fever for most of the first season. He's not sure he's prepared to fight anyone about it. Based on his mentions, he has many, many fewer horses in this race than other people. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe his perspective as an outsider is valuable.

Or maybe he just wants the chance to sit down with Abby Griffin. Because instead of spending the past week either working on his next book or even familiarizing himself with Friends and the criticism surrounding it, he's mostly been researching Abby Griffin herself. He'd done it some after the first article Bellamy sent, curious to see her other work, but he'd been busy with a deadline and hadn't really had much time for that, had barely scratched the surface of this woman.

He doesn't have time for it now either, of course, but it's at least relevant to something in his life. And, as Bellamy and his friends have pointed out, this is at least good publicity. It's not a complete waste of time.

The Abby Griffin stalking might be a waste, but he can't help it. She's interesting. The pop-culture writing is, apparently, a side job, something she never intended to get seriously involved in. The website had been her husband's, and when he passed away, Abby and Clarke had taken over its upkeep, and Abby had started producing content when she had time. Given her full-time job is as the director of internal medicine at the hospital, he's frankly amazed she has as much time for content as she does.

And it's good content. She and Clarke have a weekly column where they discuss a movie they went to see together, and the female characters in science fiction piece was apparently part of a series. Her taste is good and her opinions are interesting, and by the time he's meeting her, he has one big question, and one only.

They get through introductions and are settled in at the table before he finally lets it out. "Honestly, I don't understand how you can like Ross."

She lets out a surprised laugh. "Excuse me?"

"Bellamy said he was looking forward to us fighting over Friends, but I have trouble believing you disagree with my opinion of Ross. I don't know what we'd be fighting about."

She smiles into her mug. He'd known she was beautiful from the picture he found on the hospital website, but it's different to see in person, and more awkward. Bellamy and Clarke are hanging out at their own table, pretending not to eavesdrop; it's not an ideal time to be caught staring. "I don't know what he told you, but I didn't disagree. It was an impressive rant. Well reasoned and accurate. I was more interested in discussing why you posted it and the reactions you got. I saw it wasn't popular among some of your readers."

"To say the least."

"One of the things I've been curious about since getting involved in online fandom is what counts as acceptable ways to interact, especially for those of us over thirty or so. I saw a lot of people asking why a heterosexual man in his late forties would care this much about Friends at all. As if that was the problem."

"Judging from the angry responses, plenty of heterosexual men are very invested in Friends. Although I'm not sure how old they are," he grants.

"Age is the biggest issue, in my experience. You'd been participating in an acceptable way, as a creator, but once you show yourself to be invested in Friends shipping--"

"I stepped into the wrong part of fandom."

"That's my thesis, yes."

He considers. "Am I on the record?"

"I'm not a reporter, Marcus," she says, sounding amused. "I'm not trying to trick you into saying something I can use against you. But if you'd like to officially be off the record, we can say that you are."

"My hope with that post was that it would make some of my readers rethink their attitudes towards women and romance. The number of responses I got to Valena's story in Bright Sky Morning that boiled down to her being wrong for not returning Pavel's feelings even though he'd been so devoted to her was--staggering. And depressing."

"Did your female readers appreciate it?"

"They did. Apparently Jin was a much more appealing partner."

Abby smiles. "I certainly thought so."

It's not his first time meeting a fan, of course, and she might not even be a fan, in the sense they're talking about. But she's read his work and has opinions on it, and that's always a little bit flattering. Especially when they align with his. "I'm glad. I was hoping he would be." He clears his throat. "So, you'd like to talk to me as a forty-eight-year-old man who publicly had opinions on shipping."

"And to get your thoughts on Monica and Chandler," she says, all innocence. "If you don't mind."

He can't help smiling himself. "Not at all. I'm all yours."

*

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Expanded my horizons this weekend with the High School Musical trilogy. A curious cultural phenomenon.

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus I appreciated that Troy and Gabriela didn't go to the same college, but still stayed in the same general area.

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus I still don't think the couple has much of a future, but in an unrealistic movie, I appreciated that nod to practicality.

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus Very disappointed about the last-minute attempt to cement Ryan's heterosexuality. Let children have LGBT role models.

Murphy @firstnameredacted Replying to @kanemarcus If you're seriously going to be talking about Disney movies from now on I'm unfollowing you, I don't give a shit about this

Marcus Kane @kanemarcus Replying to @kanemarcus and @firstnameredacted Please do.

*

"Look," says Bellamy, two months after the first Friends rant, "I'm not going to pretend I'm good with crushes, but it would be a lot easier to just ask Abby if she wants to get dinner off the record instead of coming up with new weird shit to have opinions about on Twitter every week."

"I assume the timing of this isn't a coincidence," Marcus says. He was just getting his coat on to go meet her.

"You've already got a standing coffee date. Turn it into a real date. I'm begging you."

"You don't enjoy my opinions on the High School Musical series?"

"I actually do, I'm just getting tired of blocking people. Also, I don't know if you're aware, but dating is awesome. You should try it."

"I appreciate your concern. You don't think it would be weird for you if your boss was dating your girlfriend's mother?"

"No weirder than whatever's actually happening right now. And don't even try to tell me you're not asking her out because you're worried about how it would affect me."

It does sound absurd, when he puts it like that. "No. That wasn't a major factor."

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "Just ask if she wants to come check out the Descendants franchise with you next weekend. Definitely a solid pickup line. Chicks dig it."

"The what?"

"It's like the spiritual successor to High School Musical. I'll send you a link. You should know this stuff if you're really going in on this."

"I should give you a raise."

"That too. Say hi to Abby for me."

It's not entirely accurate to say that he thinks about what Bellamy said as he walks over to his weekly meeting with Abby. Every time he walks to her favorite coffee shop near the hospital, he's thinking these same kinds of thoughts, so it's not really Bellamy's fault. He enjoys Abby's company company and would be happy to see more of her. He already knew that. But it's been a long time since he navigated anything like this.

If only Friends had prepared him for this kind of romance.

"Marcus," says Abby, giving him a smile when he sits down across from her. As usual, she's surrounded by papers, and he sometimes doubts that she'd even have time for a relationship. She does keep herself busy. "I enjoyed your meditations on High School Musical."

"I'm glad to hear it. Bellamy says it gave me a net loss of followers, but not as much of one as he thinks I deserved."

"I'm not surprised." She considers him. "I didn't mean for our friendship to hurt your career."

"I don't think it is. Plenty of people just read my books and never even find out I'm on Twitter. It's not a large percentage of sales. You're blaming yourself for the High School Musical tweets?" he adds, curious. They are her fault, broadly speaking, but he wasn't sure she knew.

"If you don't keep coming up with hot takes, we don't have much to talk about."

He laughs. "I hope we'd come up with something."

"I hope so too."

The conversation lags, but it's not a bad lag. It feels like she's given him an opening, and it's his job to figure out how to take advantage of it.

The easiest way would be to simply propose a dinner date, as Bellamy suggested. But he's never been good at simple.

"You know, you never told me your favorite relationship on Friends."

"I didn't?"

"No, we usually talk about my opinions."

She levels her gaze at him, considering. "Do you know what I think when I watch Friends now?"

"No."

"They're all so young. And don't get me wrong, I met my husband when we were young, and the two of us were happy, but--sometimes it worries me how much emphasis we put on meeting people early in life. The younger you are, the more romantic it is. And that's one kind of romance, but it's not everything. It makes me want to shake all these kids and tell them that life doesn't end at thirty, or forty, or fifty. You'll keep on meeting new people, and you can still be happy."

He lets himself reach for her hand, and relief floods him when she lets him take it, even turns it over so she can squeeze his fingers. "So your favorite relationship on Friends is the one Rachel has when she's forty-five and Ross is dead?" he teases.

"I hope you're not comparing my husband to Ross."

He has to laugh. "No. I would never."

Abby's smile is warm, and it's suddenly so easy to not be nervous at all. "Good. Because the rest of that was right."

"Good," he agrees. "I was hoping you'd say that."

*

Sky Crew Reviews @kaneandgriffin New list from @kanemarcus: top 10 YA sci-fi books for adults! Up next, top 10 adult sci-fi books for teens. Age is nothing but a number.

Murphy @firstnameredacted Replying to @kaneandgriffin I will pay you to stop

Bellamy @bradburybell Replying to @kaneandgriffin and @firstnameredacted when are you actually going to unfollow like you keep saying you will? asking for a friend

Murphy @firstnameredacted Replying to @kaneandgriffin, @firstnameredacted, and @bradburybell I keep hoping I'm going to come back and he'll be normal again

SJW Cuck @kanemarcus Replying to @kaneandgriffin, @firstnameredacted, and @bradburybell Don't hold your breath.

[ohlookitsabi]

Say Something - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 40′s!Bucky, Talk of his/Steve's ‘death’ , sadness, heck all round sad fic really guys, Implied Sexual Activity, but really like hardly anything. Synopsis: Reader is in a relationship with Bucky when he goes off to England. 

Words: 2.1k+

A/N: I’ve been sat on this fic for MONTHS. I wrote most of it out first, and i’ve finally gotten around to finishing it.  Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing. ^^ I hope you enjoy this. Also probably my longest fic EVER.

Suggested Listening

Masterlist

You knew dating Bucky would come with hard times, He’s in the army, what else would you expect? It was all totally worth it though, because you both love each other so much, that even the struggles that come with military life couldn't break the two of you apart.

When Bucky first told you he was being shipped out, he told you the same way he told steve ‘ The 107th ‘ He started “ Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England First thing tomorrow “ At first, it took you a few minutes to fully register with you what he had said, but when it did, you, as if it was automatic, bursted into a small fit of tears. You were happy, of course, Your boyfriend is doing so well for himself in the Military, but, he’s leaving you, and that hits you hard.

Bucky Panicked, you could Physically tell, he always does when you cry, because he hates it. He tried to reassure you, telling you Steve will be here with you, and that you will have him, but it just simply makes you cry even harder. You hate it when he goes away, as would anyone in the same situation as you, sure, you have Steve, but, Steve isn’t your boyfriend, and Steve isn’t the one that hugs you and sleeps with you at night.

As an attempt to make you feel better, and to calm down, Bucky took you and Steve to see Howard Stark’s ‘ Hover Car ‘ , Which, didn’t work, or not that well at least. It was a good laugh either way. Howard Stark was an amazing Man, charismatic and easy going. Not that he had Anything on your Bucky, but still.

When you, Bucky and Steve found your way back outside, the two of them seemingly vanished into thin air. You paid no mind to it though, and waited for the two of them, knowing they would be back sooner or later. Finally, when someone did come back, it was Only Bucky. He told you Steve would catch up Later because he’s trying his hand and Enlisting in the army again. Both of you have tried to tell him, since he did this the first time and was rejected, that he should stop trying, because it’s not going to happen, but he keeps ignoring both of you, telling you its not about him, it's about the fact he should be able to, because he’s just as entitled to it as everyone else.

The two of you hated the way he did it, lying on his enlistment form, but, you can only do so much to try and talk him out of it, so the two of you simply let him carry on doing it, because you knew no matter how much you tried, he wasn’t going to stop, and you and Bucky had managed to accept that, though you didn’t like it, you supported him, mostly.

Both you and Bucky continued on with your night, figuring Steve would either go home or find you eventually. You both went dancing, just like you planned to, and just as expected, Steve turned up later, but with unexpected News, he’d been accepted. The three of you celebrated, and went to at least two pubs/clubs that night.

It was around 11 pm when you and Bucky stumbled into your messy apartment, Since Bucky had been packing for his trip, doing some finishing touches. The night was spent well, between the sheets, the two of you not managing to sleep until the early hours, around 2 / 3 A.m, which you felt bad for, considering Bucky had to get up at what, 7 the same morning, but not to worry, it was totally worth it with the night the two of you had.

When you awoke, Bucky was already gone, which you expected, because you knew there was no way in hell you would wake up at 7 in the morning. With a turn of your head, you came face to Paper with a note, yanking it off the pillow, you read it out loud.

“ Sorry Doll, didn’t have the heart to wake you up, you looked so peaceful and i figured you’d probably need the sleep. The boy’s came to get me, hope you’re well, Hopefully, i’ll be home soon, but we can still write to each other.

Love you , Your dearest Bucky “.

Under the letter was where you would send his letters to, and with a sigh, you rose from your bed and pulled on some fresh underwear. The small apartment was eerily quiet without him, and you missed him already, but, you went into the kitchen, and started your day.

Over the next six or so months, you and Bucky wrote back and forth to each other, some months more sparse than others, as it all depended what was going on at his end, after all, he is in the middle of a frickin’ battlefield. It was october when the letters from Bucky stopped suddenly, and you could only fear the worst.

Steve had undergone some sort of weird experiment thing that turned him into a, what did he say? Super soldier, that’s it, with the frickin’ body of a God. He’d been sent off to the UK to do a tour or something. To help the soldiers over seas, he’d told you, promoting, you couldn’t remember what, but you knew it helped the soldiers. He left you, alone, in Brooklyn, but, you were fine, just worried for your boyfriend and shared best friend.

You received a letter from Steve some weeks later, letting you know what had happened, that He’d been captured and experimented on by a Scientist, but that he was ‘Mostly’ okay, just Dazed. Even still, it sent you into a small frenzy, experimented? What did he mean by that? He didn’t say, you were worried sick, and you sent a letter out to him, but never got one in return, which to start with worried you even more. Bucky was given one month to recuperate and get himself back to normal, which he did, promptly, though you didn’t see each other, you sent letters back and forth, Bucky making sure he assured you that he was okay to go back into war, and this time, he would be fighting with Steve leading him, and he would be as careful as possible. You were still extremely worried, but what could you do about it? Nothing. So you sat, and you hoped.

The month passed quickly, and Bucky had told you more about his new team. It was made up of seven of them, Steve, Bucky, and five people they’d picked up on the rescue mission Steve carried out solo. Bucky was ecstatic to be fighting alongside his best friend, you were equally as happy, as you knew Steve would never let anything happen to Bucky. Or, so you hoped.

The two of them sent you letters when they could, and you wrote back a letter to each of them, when, they suddenly stopped, No reasonable explanation. Bucky’s stopped first, then Steve’s a few months later. It confused you, you tried to send a letter to each of them, but got nothing back once again, and heck, you were extremely worried, and had no idea what to do, had something happened? Maybe they were just really busy, and that was the idea you set yourself with.

Say something, I’m giving up on you

Only when an Officer turned up at the door to your small apartment did everything finally sink into Place. The love of your life, Your potential future husband and father of your children, had been Killed in Action.. You were shocked, asking what happened to Steve, but he told you he wasn’t at liberty to discuss that with you, before leaving.

You were given a set of Bucky’s dog tags, along with whatever belongings he had back in England. They told you they were unable to locate his body due to how he died. Falling off a freight car, how unfortunate, tragic, and, oh god. You didn’t want to think about it. You were devastated, no.. No words could describe how you felt, because devastated just didn’t cut it.

Then the reports and newspapers caught wind of something. Steve had gone missing. Presumed dead after crashing a plane that was heading for new York into some Frozen ocean. A Hero. That’s what he was declared as. You were supposed to be burying Bucky’s body when Steve managed to get some time off, but, that clearly wasn’t going to happen, was it?

They had a joint Funeral, though there was no body nor remains, so all that went into the ground was a coffin for each of them. You’d lost the two most important men in your life, and now what were you supposed to do? You had no one. It was going to be hard to carry on. Heck, at first you refused to believe they’d even died, but when it sunk in again, the pain just got worse. The worst year of your life, a year of your life that would change everything.

Fast Forward to after Civil war, shit is fine now, and Bucky is regaining Memories.

Bucky sat across from Steve, who was holding a picture of the three of you. The ex-soldier stared at the picture with narrow eyes, trying to figure out who you were..Gorgeous [ Length] [colour] hair, beautiful [colour] eyes. He sighed, glancing at Steve and shaking his head “ I don’t know who that is Steve, sorry “ and that was all that was said.

Until that night, when Bucky had the strangest dream. You were there, but, this had nothing to do with Hydra. Just you and Him. Laughing. Smiling. Play fighting together. Laid on a bed, spread out and cuddling. He has no idea at first, until he heard you speak a set of three treasured words ‘ I love you, Bucky ‘ and he woke with a fright, sat up in bed, chest heaving as he whispered out “ [Y/N] “ into the darkness of his room. You were his girlfriend.. The love of his life..

Over the next week, Bucky forces Steve to help look into and find out if your still Alive, which he doubts, but, a guy can hope, right? His feeling was right, you were no longer Alive, but thankfully, you had died peacefully in your sleep back in 2008. He was too late, but, you’d left him something. A letter. He waited until he was back at the tower to read it, or even so much as open it.

And here he is now, sat in the middle of his bed with the unopened letter in front of him. His hands are shaky, and he feels like he wants to burst into tears, or flames, ot both. He shakily reaches out and opens the letter with a sigh, before unfolding it and starting to read.

Dear Bucky,

Everyone thinks i'm crazy for writing this letter, after all, you're dead, right? Anyway, i just, wanted to tell you i Love you, and if you are dead, i’m comin’ to see you baby, real soon. I’ve always loved you, and no matter how hard i tried, i could never get over you. So here i am now, writing a letter to my dead lover. Sad life, huh?

But anyway, back to my point. I miss you, Bucky, i really do, my life after you died was, empty, and i felt so hollow and lonely, then Steve went into the drink too, and it got worse.. God, i struggled for so long, and i still struggle, even now, probably why i'm writing this in the first place, or i’ve lost my mind. Probably the latter.  Anyway, Just one last thing

Dead or Alive, I’ll always love you, and You’ll always own my heart. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.

- Love, your dearest Doll, [Y/N]

With tears cascading down his face, he put the letter down, and choked out a simple ‘ I love you too [Y/N]. You had never gotten over him. No husband. No children. Nothing in your life, because Hydra had taken him away from you. Anger boiled in his veins, but was quickly replaced by Sadness.

You're dead, and there is nothing he can do to change that.. The love of his life, and lived a life of sadness, been alone all because of him. Guilt rose in his chest and with a sigh, he let himself drop back against his pillows, eyes fluttering closed. What had he done?

You're the one that I love

And I'm saying goodbye

Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

#Bucky barnes #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #1940s bucky #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #song inspired #sad fic

[5sos-kingsandqueens]

Mr. Book Store~chapter27~Luke Hemmings

MR BOOK STORE

CHAPTER 27

MCKINLEY P.O.V

I was so angry with Luke. I hated that he would come over and just leave things sitting around and when I would question why he did it, he would yell at me. So he stormed off to my bedroom while I cleaned up the mess and tried my hardest not to cry at the names he called me.

I wasn't sure what to do since he was locked in my room so I grabbed my wallet and went for a walk. I knew that he was annoyed with me but I never expected him to scream at me and called me a bitch.

I walked into a coffee shop, ordered a coffee and sat down. Being with Luke was challenging. We were both used to being on our own and not having someone in our business all the time. Luke was used to being in control of everything but once someone told him what to do, he would freak out.

I had no idea how to deal with him and sometimes I felt like I didn't want to. I loved Luke so much but I hated that he always screamed at me. It wasn't just yelling. It was screaming at the top of his lungs until I became quiet and stopped responding to him. It has only happened a few times but it was scary before he calmed down. I shouldn't have let it go but for some reason I did but this time I'm not.

I was going to make him worry. I wasn't going to go back home for a while and I knew he was going to yell at me when I got back but it's gotten to the point where I want to leave him because he was annoyed with me. I had no idea why he acting the way he was.

I knew I shouldn't have told him that I had depression because when you tell someone that, you always end up telling them it's going to be okay even though you needed them to tell you it's going to be okay. I should have handled it on my own without telling him anything. He wouldn't be annoyed with me and he wouldn't be acting like this.

I sat in the coffee shop for hours until I saw the employees cleaning up so I threw my cup away and headed home. Luke was pacing in the living room when I walked inside and went to the kitchen to make myself something to eat.

"Where have you been?" He asked following me to the kitchen.

"Out. I'm my own person I don't have to tell where I'm at all hours of the day." I commented putting a pot with water in it on the stove.

"Well it would be nice since I was worried."

"You could called or texted me." I said finding the pasta that I was going to make and setting it on the counter before pulling out a few more things to cook.

"You could have just told me you were leaving." I rolled my eyes at his words.

"I don't know what your issue is but you screaming at me has got to stop." I commented. "I don't appreciate being screamed at in my own home because of your mistakes."

"I didn't do anything." He whined.

"You left an empty pizza box on the coffee table." I said making him roll his eyes. "This is my apartment and if you want to make a mess of it you have to move in so you can say it's yours too."

"Woah, what?" He asked looking at me a little shocked.

"I was joking." He clearly wasn't ready for us to live together. Of course I don't think I was either but I had thoughts about what it would be like for us live together. I would get to wake up to him every single day. The only time we would be apart was when we were at work of if we were out with our friends.

"But you still said it." He paced around the room. "I'm not ready for that. I hope you're not thinking that I'm going to ask you to move in with me."

"I am not expecting you to ask me to move in." I said. "Clearly it will never happen." I mumbled as I poured the pasta into the boiling water. "You're overreacting."

"You're under reacting!"

"Why are you always yelling at me now? Is there a reason for that?" I questioned calmly. I wasn't sure if this was how he acted with all of his girlfriends after dating for this long but I had no idea what to say to him about it. I was sick of being treated like a child.

For years my father treated me the same way. Always yelling at me like everything was my fault. Always telling me not to do things when I was an adult who was paying my way through my life. Always acting like I was the crazy one when all he did was drink and do drugs.

I remember him coming home and screaming at my mother about things that didn't even matter. He was always yelling about something. He always somehow made himself the victim, always making it seem like he had never done anything wrong and he was perfect. And it didn't help that his mother still treated him like a baby. She gave him whatever his little heart desired and she never thought about how it was affecting his wife and his children.

I moved out of that house as soon as I had enough money to do it.

"Get out." I said to Luke who stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?"

"I said get out." I said calmly looking at him.

"What? No! Why?"

"I'm sick of dealing with men who are exactly like my father." His eyes widened my words and I knew he was trying to figure out what to say but he couldn't.

*LUKE P.O.V*

"No no no no. I never ever meant to make you feel that way. I am nothing like your father." I panicked. I don't even remember what we were fighting about but I knew that it was pointless.

"I'm so sick of the men in my life acting like they're entitled! You're all piece of shit. I moved out of my parents house to be away from people like that and yet here you are, standing in my kitchen acting just like them." She defended herself even though I understood exactly what she was saying. I wasn't going to defend myself because there was nothing to defend, I was treating her a way that he didn't like so she said something.

"I swear to you that I never meant to act like that. I never ever wanted to make you feel those things again and if I could take it all back I would." I commented. "I will throw away the pizza boxes. I'll recycle the beer bottles, I'll clean up my pants off your bedroom floor just please remember that I'm not and never will be your father."

"You have no idea what it was like living in that house for all those years." She commented after we were both silent for a few minutes. "When I was 18, my great aunt died from surgery complications. The day of the funeral he was singing a song that my mother didn't approve of and when she said something he freaked out and they got into a fight. He blamed me. He then called me a little bitch and told me he hated me." She sighed. "Do you know what it's like to hear that from the man who is suppose to walk you down the aisle someday?" She questioned and I shook my head

"I don't know why I was treating you that way and in your home. There's no excuse."

"I get that all of this is scary and pretty new and fun but you have to remember that I have feelings too. And it's like you're sexually frustrated but you won't let me touch you."

"I'm scared. I'm so scared that we're going to start having sex again and experiment in the bathroom like we started doing and you'll start getting depressed again and I can't be the reason why you're sad." I explained. It was so simple to tell her my feelings but for some reason I was always afraid to say something. There was nothing that I could say that would scare her away but there was always that fear in the back of my mind.

"This is nice. Talking about our feelings." She wrapped her arms around me. "That's all a relationship is." She smiled kissing me. "Being there for people."

"I'm always going to be here for you. I promise. And god I so badly want to move in with you or you move in with me but I think it's too soon." I commented and she nodded.

"I agree." I smiled before the timer for the pasta went off and she went to drain it before putting it on two plates with chicken on top of it. I got us some wine and we both sat down to eat together. We both knew that relationships were hard. I often forget that she's her own person and I don't own her, he isn't mine. Well she's mine but I can't control what she does.

I was always so worried that she would someday wake up and find that I'm not who I was and she would leave. It happens all the time. Best friends stop talking to each other, people break up, people cheat. McKinley was my person and I wanted her to be my person for the rest of our lives.

"I love you." I blurted looking at her and she smiled.

"I love you too."

"I won't leave my shit around anymore." I smiled making her giggle. She was the greatest thing that ever happened to me in my life and there was no way in hell that I was going to allow her to feel the way that I was making her feel.

I helped her clean before I told her that I was going to go home but instead I went to the jewelry store to find her something. I didn't care how much it was going to cost but I finally found a rose necklace that she would love.

After getting the necklace in a cute little box, I went to buy her some flowers that she could put on her nightstand next to her candle that she never burned she just had it for the look. I knocked on her door and heard footsteps coming to the door before she opened the door in her robe.

"What are you doing?" She giggled letting me in.

"I brought you some things." I smiled handing her the flowers as she went to the kitchen to get a vase. "Figured you could put those on your nightstand." I commented pulling the box out of my pocket. "This is for you." I smiled.

"You didn't have to do all of this."

"I want you to know how special you are to me." I smiled making her smile. She opened the box and looked up at me.

"It's beautiful." She smiled taking it out of the box. "Put it on me." She handed it to me before turning around for me to put it on her and it sat perfectly in the middle of her boobs. She smiled before wrapping her arms around me and kissing me. "Stay with me." She whispered against my mouth as I carried her to her room.

I threw her onto the bed making her giggled before she slowly opened her robe and revealed her naked body.

"Oh my god." I groaned rubbing my hands over her body. She was mine. All mine.

#mr book store #chapter 27 #luke hemmings #luke imagine #luke fanfiction #luke fanfic #luke 5sos #5sos #5sos fam #5sos blog #5sos edit #5sos fanfiction #5sos fanfic