#also for my lawyer father <3 god I would die if my parents ever found my tumblr that’s my worst nightmare

[zenyye]

YOU take edibles to get high, I take them to calm the anxiety levels of an animal being hunted for sport and stumble upon some sleep. we are not the same

#for legal reasons this is a joke #just in case #also for my lawyer father <3 god I would die if my parents ever found my tumblr that’s my worst nightmare #cbd delta8 etc are my wives #reblog bait: rb with your own personal gummy use

[startwithbrooklyn]

THE GREAT ND REWATCH OF 2021 / OCTOBER 3, 2019 // the trial

(TW SUICIDE)

it's the reveal!!!! love that for her hope shes thriving (shes not) again w the two minutes of the next episode to sync the dates

-lmaoooo so i honestly wonder why they went for the full pulling-it-out-the-throat thing but idk (an interesting foil to her getting sick for more stereotypical reasons ie s2 "people find out theyre grandparents every day"

-I LOVE THIS GEORGE HAIR

-"i'd do anything for nancy" okay but....why 👀bit of an odd reaction imo

-bess with spilling the truth again 😂and gets shot down. tragic #shetried

-wait sooooo nobody tested the fingerprints on the knife when this shit happened?? or that tech didnt exist in 2000? i mean without a body how could they even call it murder? and who told the police?? like if the drews took the baby, the dress, and said nothing, who tells the cops shes missing or even dead? how did they know to search the bluffs? who told the media/public? it had to have happened that same night because ryan said when he got there later there were already rumors she was killed. after the baby and bloody dress, only her crown, a knife, and tire tracks were left. how did anyone find anything at this remote bluff without some kind of tip off? and why on earth would they think murder and not suicide with so little evidence?? thats gotta be like suicide central, sorry for the trigger

-"a little help, lucy?!" lucy seems unable to disobey a direct request from nancy (ie "lucy, stop" from later in the ep) when nancy speaks directly to her. so maybe if nancy had spoken aloud/engaged more lucy could have appeared more? nancy said she only comes around when she wants to but what if nancy herself could do a bit more, being the last thing lucy touched and all

-so in ep 2 when nancys in jail carson says "great grandma rosalind buried her valuables in the trunk" including the knives shown here. did carson and kates families even know about nancy? how did they explain not announcing a pregnancy or birth?

-"oh." john lmfaoooo

-BESS lmaoooo and ace's looks in the background and then at seeing nick approaching lmfaooo oh no / also why on earth is she apologizing?? he dumped her but she has to be sorry he found out she fucked someone else? someone nicer pls explain to me bc i dont get it. she dont owe him shit

-george is SO CUTE lmfaoooo and so forward and he was so shook but then he was like "oh hell yeah"

-"is he a vampire?!" ik nobody i knew got that reference 😂

-this entire search of the claw is a sham. what are they even looking for. clearly a set up by tamura but why/what does he suspect them of. esp w karen as accomplice, story should be airtight so why are they still investigating?

-john + ace dream team 💙

-god ace is such a yes-man. why is he so fucking loyal?? people like him are insane. how are they real. i suspect they arent. and no matter what you do you are never worthy of their unending loyalty anyway.

-so in the Good Place nancy was the one who had the key but in reality its ryan

-wonder if lucy's listening to ryan here talking about his love and grief for her

-"you were throwing away your future on a nothing girl" - nancy & ryan - their fathers dont want them to see "troubled" kids, want them to focus on school instead --> which they both struggle with and eventually do not achieve (maybe bc they want their kids to leave horseshoe bay?) for nancy its an interesting vice for someone whos really a goody two shoes/for ryan its subverted bc karen actually did worse than him ie committed real crimes

-"stay away from my family" surprise bitch bet you thought youd seen the last of me 😉

-interestingly, ryan probably would have agreed with karen about switching the ballot boxes but he wouldnt have really understood the social consequences. both josh and karen are determined to see ryan as the bad guy when actually he didnt do anything, they did. 🤔

-karen is such a ride or die friend. again w the loyalty. if someone swapped ballot boxes for me i'd be touched. im sure going into active labor made lucy a bit upset but damn. what a friend.

-wonder when nancy starts calling her "Lucy" instead of "dead lucy"

-lucy primarily haunting her own house/love seeing this house overtaken by nature

-the concept of writing things down : starting from the first ep, nancy's journal (then and now), writing out simon cards, similar cemetary cards in the Good Place, "beautiful minding it," culminating in lucy's journal / writing it down to help figure it out/when theres too much going on to keep it inside

-"i'll make a salad" NICK LMAOOO

-wonder what happened to carson's old lawyer?

-"my testimony begins in the summer of 1999" because your story always starts with your mother's story

-lmfaoooooo this shit taking the stand is soooo never allowed but oh well

-"she stole a knife" and carson's face lmfaooooo he knows its not true but what could he fucking say?? no?

-"i love you mom, i hope you never find this." ironic bc nancy didnt want her dad to find her journal either

-lucy never wanted anyone to find out how she died d/t shame- but she didnt want carson to go to jail for it so she finally allowed it (or just couldnt refuse nancy asking)

-"i'm sorry for what you lost"/"i'm never gonna be free from them"

-awww ace/mcginnis goodbye / i wonder if ace is nervous thinking about tamura --> ace's dad since chief mcginnis covered for ace out of respect for his dads sacrifice but tamura would throw both ace and his dad under the bus just to get at nancy (get at her via ace? since he was already used as the blackmail plot device? they kinda touched in this in s2 but not fully)

-okay sooo why are they still doing this forensic analysis thing? like the whole things over so whats the point. i wonder if john had packed up and gone home what coulda happened

-nancy/carson - interrupted moments:

•family dinner interrupted by nancy's accsations

•being home after finding ted interrupted by carson's arrest

•celebration of dropped charges interrupted by nancy discovering the truth about her parentage

-"i cooked your favorite to celebrate" ironic bc shes upset that hes not her "real" dad but he IS because he knows her best. like theyre literally proving it right in front of her. vs ryan whom she doesnt really want anyway AND rejects requests to get to know her. like come on sis. his 20 years of parenting you arent going away, ever. deal w it.

-carson's little smile before he said "'mom never hurt lucy" like he knows this is the end / scott's acting here just kills me

~~~~~~~~~

-why did the drews come back at all? and why did kate really keep the dress? carson says she did it as a link to lucy, but did kate want to keep it to be connected to lucy? or did she bury it to keep lucy repressed? is this a positive or a negative? +keeping in attic - did lucy start to haunt kate, so she unburied the dress?

and lastly:

-why doesnt lucy haunt everett and celia hudson? she kind of does ie painting but only when nancy visits bc shes actually haunting nancy. isnt everything the hudsons' fault?

#brooklyn's ND primer #nancy drew cw #tw suicide #the Great Rewatch of 2021 #you best start believing in ghost stories miss drew - you're in one

[otg2012]

These Hearts Were Never Meant to Beat Alone  |  Day 3: Future fic

Stiles and Jackson go on their first date and this is how their dinner ends. 

The previous parts of this flashback are here:

So Damn Blue  |  Your Heart Will Never Be Broken by Me  | 

Sex, Truth and a Minimum of Bullshit   |  Confirmation Denied    

Notes: This is the end of my series "What If It's You?" in which Jackson is a spy and Stiles is a journalist.  

“About this thing that you do that cannot be mentioned… did you always know that you wanted to do it? I’ve always wondered if there’s some kind of call for that,” Stiles admits. “Or you just wake up one day and you say, risking my life for a living sounds good.”

“When you put it like that, what I do doesn't sound too different from a firefighter or a policeman, you know? Maybe you should ask your father, don’t you think?”

“Come on, you know what I mean,” Stiles insists. “And for my dad, of course, I know he couldn’t see himself doing anything else. That’s what he always wanted to do.” Stiles says, waving both arms. “Is that what happened to you?”

Jackson snorts, shaking his head. “No, I have two years of law school under my belt. I thought my future was being a lawyer. Somehow I convinced myself it was a way to make money and help people at the same time… and of course, my parents totally loved the idea. Not to mention that Kane, my best friend at the time, was also at college with me…”

“So what happened?”

Jackson snorts once more. “What happened is that I got terribly bored, I guess. My marks were decent but I wasn’t brilliant… and I was supposed to be brilliant,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “Hard as I tried, I couldn’t find the motivation to achieve what I was supposed to achieve. So, I lost interest and after my second year, I left and never came back.”

“Wow, that had to be hard,” Stiles offers obviously surprised.

“Yeah, it was,” Jackson nods, absolutely serious.

“And what did you do?” Stiles asks warily, biting his lip.

“Well, I was a mess. My parents didn’t get it, my best friend didn’t get it and even I didn’t totally get it. Because I knew I could actually finish it, and pass the bar and find a job… but also, in the back of my mind, I knew I couldn’t go on if I didn’t have a passion for it, you know… but for a while there I really thought I was stupid for not seeing it sooner… for wasting two fucking years of my life before I saw it. And I thought something was wrong with me… some people would call it a crisis, I suppose…” Jackson shrugs. “In the end, I left… stayed in France for a while… then I was backpacking through Europe… and decided to study economics and most probably start my own business in the future.”

“But that’s not what happened…” Stiles shakes his head.

“No... My boss… he changed all that. Somehow he trusted me, he recruited me and I realized this is what I was supposed to do.”

“You found your destiny,” Stiles declares. “Wow… that’s so cool.”

Jackson smiles. “I guess, it’s cool, yeah.”

“What about you? Is your call being a journalist?”

“I think so, yeah.” Stiles nods. “When I was a teenager, I thought I wanted to be a writer…”

“Really? Jackson raises his eyebrows.

“Yep. I have a lot of imagination in case you haven’t noticed—”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Jackson smirks.

“But writing is not a career… you have to be lucky to actually make money with it.”

“So, you just forgot about it?” Jackson furrows his brow.

“As employment? Yeah, I did… but I still, I write… just a hobby… plus, it’s not like I have a lot of free time… and anyway, I love my job… I don’t write fiction but I write about things that matter—our reality— and that’s important… Hopefully, I make a difference showing what’s going on out there and you know, every day is different and I never get bored. I guess not many people get to say that… although of course, you’re not one of those.”

Jackson gets that and he believes him, but something tells that probably those are all things that help him cope with the fact that he’s not doing what would have been his first choice.

“I mean,” Stiles continues, “unless, you got so used to traveling and kicking strangers who follow you…” Stiles gestures with his hand. “In that case, maybe you should have become a lawyer after all.”

“God, no,” Jackson smiles, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t change what I do for anything. And you know, if I hadn’t kicked you, we wouldn’t be here right now…”

“That’s most probably true,” Stiles smirks.

“It is,” Jackson bites his lip. “And believe me, I’ve told you stuff that…” Jackson snorts, smiling, “few people know about me.”

And that is honesty right there. It’s true he’s not been on a date in a long time but still, now that he thinks about it, he can’t remember a date where he talked as much about himself as he has tonight. Obviously, there’s something about this guy that makes it easy to talk and just be himself in a way that doesn’t really come natural to him. Thank god Lydia won’t find out what they talked about because if she did, she would be teasing him about it endlessly.

“Well, I hope that means that you wanna see me again… even if I’m only really good at English and I’ve asked more questions that you probably wanted in your lifetime.”

Jackson drinks some more wine and licks his lips. “Yeah, but I’ll just text you next time. I hope it’s not too disappointing.”

Stiles smiles. “I admit it. I could get used to your fingers sliding inside my pocket, but I think I can deal with it. And you know, since it’s been established that your so called-plan for Christmas Day absolutely sucks, I think you should come over to my place and have lunch with my father and me. I’ll be cooking, not him, so it’s safe to say that you won’t die of starvation.”

“Wait—Your father and you?” Jackson raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, he’s coming to visit for a few days. But don’t worry, if it bothers you that he knows that we are… you know…” Stiles waves his arms.

“Dating?” Jackson tries hard not to smirk. Stiles can be really ridiculous.

“Yeah. If that bothers you, you can come as a friend. I’m not trying to con you into anything… it’s just Christmas lunch… between friends. Well, family and friends… two friends.” Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, waving his arms. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think that me meeting your father is the best idea you’ve ever had… especially after just one date.”

“On the contrary, everybody likes my father. There’s even the risk that you could like him more than me…” Stiles smiles. “And hell, I just don’t want you to be alone. Besides, I’m sure anything is better than whatever you are going to eat at home after working out like a maniac.”

Jackson rolls his eyes dramatically but finally nods. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go… but don’t do that. Don’t lie to him. As I said before, what’s the point of lying?” It feels stupid to do that. If the father is half as smart as Stiles is, he will see the way his son looks at Jackson and will know the truth anyway.

“Okay. I won’t.” Stiles shakes his head.

“So, are you gonna order any dessert or what? They are pretty good at this place.”

“Are you kidding? I never say no to dessert… especially cake… chocolate cake or apple cake… any cake, really...”

The way Stiles’ face illuminates at the idea of cake is too cute… maybe even beautiful. Jackson can’t help but grin. Somehow Stiles’ eagerness is contagious and he wants some cake too… and the thing is he never has cake. Too many calories.

“Cake, it is,” Jackson says nonchalantly, looking around to find a waiter.

#stacksonweek2020 #stackson #stacksonweek #stiles x jackson #what if it's you?

[torturedwarrior]

Albert Fish:

Who exactly is Albert Fish? What made him famous? How many victims did he murder? How did Albert Fish die? Albert Hamilton Fish (May 19, 1870 – January 16, 1936) was an American sado-masochistic serial killer and cannibal. He was also known as the Gray Man, the Werewolf of Wysteria and possibly the Brooklyn Vampire. AKA Albert Fish, Laura Fish, Nepe Fish, Birthday May 19, 1870, Birthplace Washington DC, District of Columbia, United States, Death January 16, 1936, Manner of Death Capital Punishment, Nationality United States Of America, Occupations Prostitute, Serial Killer, Great Person, Male Prostitution, Religion Rejecting The Blood. “Misery leads to crime. I saw so many boys whipped it ruined my mind.”— Albert Fish.

He was delighted that he had "kids in all nations," which places his number near 100, although the question of violence or cannibalization is not obvious, much less as to whether it was real or not. In at least five killings for his career he was a witness. Fisch agreed to three killings and confessed to at least two other individuals attacking investigators might track a suspected crime. He was tried and convicted and hanged by electric chair for abduction and the death of Grace Budd.

Albert Fish’s Early Life:

He was born to Randall Fish (1795-1875) as Hamilton Fish in Washington, D.C. He said he was named after a distant relative, Hamilton Fish. His grandfather was 43 years older than his brother. It had three live siblings: Walter, Joyce, and Edwin Fish. Fish was the youngest child and he was three. After a deceased brother he wanted to be called "Albert," and to avoid the moniker of "Ham and Eggs," provided him in an orphanage where he spent many years in the beginning. Mental illness was suffered by many of his family members and theological mania was felt. His father was a sailor on the river boat, but he was a producer of fertilizers by 1870. The first Fish died in the 1875 Washington, DC, of a heart attack at the Sixth Street Station of the Pennsylvania Railroad. He was hit and kicked regularly, and finally discovered that he was suffering from physical pain. Often the beatings brought him houses that the other children told him about.

His mother was able to look after him and have a government job by 1879. He had however been influenced by his different experiences before this. He began a gay relationship with a telegraph-boy in 1882, when he was 12. Fish also heard about drinking urine and coprophagies in young people. Fish liked to frequent public baths and watch kids get ready and he spent much of his weekends watching them. In 1890, Fish had come to New York City and said he had become a male harlot. He claimed he began raping young boys, even after his mother had negotiated a marriage, a crime that he proceeded to commit. He married his wife in 1898 with a junior aged nine years. The dad: Albert, Mary, Gertrude, Eugene, Charles, and Henry Fish. They had six babies. He was charged on the basis of misappropriation and sentenced to 1903 in Sing jail. He had sex with men frequently during his incarceration. “I have no particular desire to live. I have no particular desire to be killed. It is a matter of indifference to me. I do not think I am altogether right.”— Albert Fish

He served as a house painter in 1898 and said that he kept angry babies, boys mostly under the age of six. Further on, he recalled an instance where a male friend took him to a waxworks museum where Fish became intrigued by a penis bisection, and shortly afterwards he was paranoid regarding castration. Fish tried to castrate him after linking him during a friendship with a mentally disabled man. The guy became terrified and ran. Fish then increased his trips to brothels to taunt and abuse him more often. His wife left him in January 1917 for a handyman, John Straube, who rented the Fish home. Despite this rejection, Fish started hearing voices; for instance, once he was wrapped up in a tapestry and clarified why he followed John the Apostle's orders.

Early attacks and attempted abductions:

It was Fish which perpetrated his first assault in Wilmington, Delaware in 1910 on a child named Thomas Bedden. He eventually murdered a child mentally disabled in Arlington, Washington, D.C., in 1919. Many of his perpetrators would frequently be either mentally impaired or American as they would not be overlooked, he claimed. On 11 July 1924 Fish discovered Beatrice Kiel, eight years of age, playing alone on the Staten Island estate of her father. He gave her money in the neighboring fields to help him hunt the rhubarb. As her mother scared Fish away, she was about to leave the farm. Fish fled but then returned back to the barn of Kiels, where, before Hans Kiel found him, he wanted to sleep and told him to leave.

Previous incarceration:

Fish met "Estella Wilcox," and lived a week in Waterloo, New York, on February 6, 1930. He was held at Bellevue psychiatric hospital between 1930 and 1931 for evaluation, and he was released in May 1930 "because he sent an indecent letter to an African American woman who replied a maid's advertising."

Fish Targets the Handicapped:

Around 1919, Albert Fish started attacking young men who, because he thought that these individuals would be ignored, were intellectually or African American. Fish liked to bribe kids to help him trap other kids so that he could torture and kill them. The proof has been confirmed in any of these murders. Upon his final conviction, Albert Fish made a number of statements. Even if there was no proof, he listed Albert Fish's victims in hundreds. In 1924, Albert Fish developed total insanity. He actually believed, although he has been tested several times by psychologists, that God was ordering him to torture and kill them. In July of that year, Fish met teenage Beatrice Kiel on the estate of her father alone. Her mother heard Fish chuckle and scare him from protecting the 8-year-old girl's life. Fish went back to the farm in Kiel later that night and slept in the stable. Hans Kiel, young Beatrice's parent, spotted him and quickly pursued him. The next move of Albert Fish was targeted at a young boy Cyril Quinn he had annoyed. To draw them into his den, Fish gave the boys lunch. The boys wrested on Fish's pillow, while waiting for sandwiches. Fish's "death weapons" and hammer, handsaw and cleaver were overthrown by the mattress. The boys have run from the house in panic. Again, Fish missed his job of killing and eating a boy. It took Fish up a bit of his playing.

 Albert Fish’s Victims:

Francis McDonnel- Francis, age 8, was murdered on July 14, 1924. He had been raped and strangled to death, Emma Richardson- Emma, age 5, was murdered on October 3, 1926, Billy Gaffney- Billy, age 4, was murdered on February 12, 1927. Fish confessed to torturing Billy by whipping him, cutting off his ears and nose and then gouging out his eyes. After Billy was murdered, Fish took home pieces of his body and ate them over the course of 4 days, Grace Budd- Grace, age 10, was murdered on June 3, 1928. Fish confessed to murdering her and then eating her whole body over the course of 9 days, Emil Aalling - Emil, age 4, was murdered on July 13, 1930, Robin Jane Liu- Robin, age 6, was murdered on may 2, 1931, Yetta Abramowitz- Yetta, age 12, was murdered in 1927. Fish was suspected to have murdered Yetta, Mary Ellen O’Connor- Mary, age 16, was murdered on February 15, 1932. Fish was suspected to have murdered Mary, Benjamin Collings- Benjamin, age 17, was murdered on December 15, 1932. Fish was suspected to have murdered Benjamin. “I always had a desire to inflict pain on others and to have others inflict pain on me. I always seemed to enjoy everything that hurt.”- Albert Fish, "What a thrill that will be if I have to die in the electric chair. It will be the supreme thrill. The only one I haven't tried."- Albert Fish.

 Trial and Execution:

It is not shocking that Fish is regarded as "the worst child killer in criminal history." The Grace Budd assassination court lasted eleven days. Cod has been found guilty and finally electrically disabled. Fish was said to have helped the boy place electrodes on his leg. There have been reports that the needles implanted by Fish into its body have created a short electric circuit, so it requires twice the normal electricity strikes to complete the job. Since then, these arguments have been dismissed. His lawyer claimed after Fish was killed that he had no words from Fish, just handwritten documents. "Information will never be shown to anyone. The prosecutor refused to read them. It was I have ever seen the filthiest list of obscenities. Until the end of his life, Fish had been a vile human being.

Albert Fish will tend to be one of the greatest abusers of girls in America. Few serial killers, particularly against children, have accomplished the cruelty he is renowned for. It needs to be seen whether Albert Fish was a serial killer at the orphanage. One has to ask if someone so evil as Fish was raised as an assassin or could his conditions transform him into a bad person. Like most serial killers, it's become a little bit of nature and nourishment. While he claims to also have killed thousands of children,' one in every state,' he was only ever found to have killed three. The three killings were so horrific that they solidified Fish's place in history as the worst child killer in all of American history.

Work Cited:

"Best Albert Fish Quotes | Quote Catalog." Quote Catalog. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://quotecatalog.com/communicator/albert-fish/>.

Blanco, Juan Ignacio. "Albert Fish | Murderpedia, the encyclopedia of murderers." Murderpedia, the encyclopedia of murderers. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://murderpedia.org/male.F/f/fish-albert.htm>.

Phan, Daniel. " Everything You Need To Know About Albert Fish | Serial Killer Shop ." Limited Edition Horror & Serial Killer Shirts – Serial Killer Shop . 18 Mar 2019. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://serialkillershop.com/blogs/true-crime/albert-fish>.

Whitney , Heather. "Victims of Albert Fish | The Serial Killers Podcast." The Serial Killers Podcast - A Weekly Podcast on Serial Murder. 1 Jan 2010. Web. 11 Feb 2020. <http://serialkillers.briancombs.net/2962/victims-of-albert-fish/>.

#albert fish #serial killer #blogging #blog #writing #writeaway

[digigal-transbian]

Better to?

Is it better to be alive and constantly miserable? Or dead and know peace?

If I fail a class this semester, there is an extremely high likelihood that i will be pulled out of college for financial reasons. If that happens I've been told I will have no choices, my life will be ultimately destroyed. The only job I'd be able to get is a minimum wage, soul crushing mindless existence. I'd never be able to afford a second chance at college. I'd never be able to survive on minimum wage, I'd have to get two jobs and even then I'd barely make ends meet.

And that's if I was able to get a second job. I'd never know love because I'd be too busy trying just to survive and after that too tired to function. 2 full time jobs is not exactly free to have feelings like love. And with who I am, finding someone would be a damn miracle and god has already proven he shall have no mercy on me.

And the gods know I'd never have a lucky break with writing or art, if I even had the time or energy to put into either of them.

Every check just going to not being dead for another week, stuck in a job or if I'm lucky, 2, that I hate, barely making ends meet, all because when I was 19 I got cocky and ended up failing Precal or was forgetful and failed English because if it.

To be able to say, "I was young, dumb, sure of myself, and because of it I've amounted to nothing, never known love, was never able to have a family, and lived a fate comparable to hell on earth."

I've been religiously told this for the last 6 months by my parents. And 6 months is lowballing it.

My biggest fear is dying alone. My second biggest fear to be forgotten. If I fail both are going to happen. I'm going to die alone in a house that is barely holding together without a soul to remember me.

I'll be forgotten within a week of my death, if not, a month at most. Nothing I've ever done will have mattered, ultimately I was just a waste of the universes time, even if I did make a couple peoples days just a little bit brighter.

Is it better to live and be miserable with no hope, or to die and be done with it?

At this point it's basically pass or die. A 70 on my math final to pass and have to retake because of how it is with my major, an 85 on it to never take that class again, and with English I've done what I can and at this point all I can do is hope.

And don't any of you dare call me selfish for this. To call suicidal people selfish is selfish itself. You're only concerned about the impact that persons death would have on you or their family, worry about the person who wants to kill themselves because they are in pain or see no other option.

And never call me selfish. I've made every choice for somebody else. Choice in college was because if years of "if you go to clemson you'll make your grandfather proud." And he's the actual kindest person I've ever met of course I dont want to let him down, I couldn't get there on my highschool GPA or ACTs so I found some backass method to get there. CSU has an applied math program that does 4 years there, 2 years at Clemson and you get two degrees for the 6 year period.

My father was all for that for the reason of being able to rub it in my aunts and uncles faces.

This is the same man that punched a brick wall hard enough to let out a blood curdling scream, make the house shake from the punch, and instill the fear of death in a child because a 12 year old didnt do his English homework. Why that 12 year old didnt do their homework? Just didnt want to, so over time did less and less of it.

Which is a legitimately normal thing by the way, 6th graders dont always want to do their homework and of course they are going to lie about it, dont act like his responce was in any way justifiable.

The man to this day still threatens to pin me to a wall and beat the shit out of me if I lie to him again, which wouldnt be as much of an issue if he didn't terrify me to the point of never telling him anything ever again out of fear for my life.

My choice of major was because of him. I wanted to be a doctor for a while but then my mom spent a collective 5 years dying in the hospital, so that dream died. No fault to her she couldn't control it. I then wanted to be a psychiatrist, therapist, that deal. Made the mistake of mentioning it around dad and got told promptly "it's not a real job." 10 year old me gave up on that real quick.

Then it went lawyer for a while because I figured a good paying job will be acceptable, hes always on about money anyways. After months upon like a year or something of "oh it's a lot of school and it's really hard and are you sure about it?" That dream too, was killed.

So the next thing I said was computers. Nothing more, nothing less, and it was finally acceptable. It was the most predicatable answer out of me and the first one to really be approved of. So for years i was content not having my dreams put down, then came college and I put my dreams down for computer engineering, on the track to clemson.

I then changed my major to computer science and over time put some thought into my actual interests.

Astronomy, the language of the stars. Physics, the language of the universe. Linguistics, the study of language. Writing, where you can be a god of your own little world. Geology, because rocks are just cool yo. Intetior Design, every time dad drags me to work with him I sit around and mentally start designing each room. And at the bottom of the list, Computer Science.

And the final mistake made in this whole college thing, I applied to only 1 college and to 0 scholarships. The scholarships I got are state ones, and I was told to keep a 3.0 GPA, which if you've ever seen one of my report cards you know how bad of an idea relying on that is. You have to have no idea what any of my report cards have ever looked like to think for a minute that trusting I will keep a B average for 6 years with no problems at all is even slightly a good idea.

So when my grades came in first semester, the night of December 13 I was legitimately shaking in fear for my life. December 23 when my parents found my grades out they gave me a 2~3 hour scream and then since then all my tech, aside from my phone and laptop, has been sitting in a tote box in my closet.

April they see my grades again and since then I havent been allowed to even have my door closed, and was strongly told that if I'm caught reading anything that isnt for school they'd burn it.

I could have probably avoided half of this if I was just a little more selfish, but I made every choice for someone else. If I was just a little more selfish I would be in a college half the price of CSU in a major that wouldnt be my last choice. Were I just a little more self centered, I wouldn't fear my father killing me over my grades.

Maybe I'm so destructively selfless because every moment that was supposed to have been about me quickly became about someone else. High school graduation after the fact during the pictures I got pushed to the side so my cousins could have a picture of just them, when there literally were three other walls and outside that they could have done that. Have you ever taken a picture outside at night? It's got a beautiful magic about it, and the lights were on dont even try to say "oh it's too dark", also cameras tend to have a flash so that's no excuse to push ME out of the way on MY graduation day. Kinda a big deal to me because when you look at my extended family I am among the few that have graduated high school, like half of them haven't even done that.

My graduation party the next day, I was given my gifts and then ignored most of the rest of the time. I was there for about 6~7 hours, and relevant for about 15 minutes. My college acceptance letter was opened and read by my parents before I even woke up. In fact, they woke me up by yelling at me from the kitchen to get in there. I walk in there, they're at the table smiling like idiots that just won the Nobel prize, and they hand me an open letter and tell me to read.

And my birthdays result in me being relevant for ten minutes of the hour at the pizza hut, and most of that is being asked about school and grades. The rest of the time is my parents and grandparents bitching about my drug addict unfit parent cousins. Like, my birthday is supposed to be about me, not them. And I am more than just school and grades, you would not believe how long it took me to realize that.

I have one bit of advice for anyone that might need it. Live your life for yourself for your reasons and never let somebody else live through you.

#personal #delete later #xni

[kellencclark]

Bittersweet Symphony (Part 3) || Kellen & Grace

When: April 27, 2021

Where: Coffee shop & Grace’s apartment, Santa Monica, California

Featuring: Grace Rothschild (dialogue provided by Tash @gracerothschild)

Triggers: N/A

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4

She chewed on her lower lip before grabbing the seat belt and buckled in, looking over at him and laughed. “I will die of laughter if you burn the food.” Gracie teased, obviously giving him a hard time because she wanted to make things less stressful for both of them. “I have almost everything...but it also depends on what you’re going to cook.”

"I'll find a necromancer, bring you back to life, and kick your butt if you laugh," he joked, reaching over to tickle her side. "Honestly, I have no idea. I was just going to see what you had first then figure it out from there." He really didn't think this plan of his through and secretly hoped that she would abandon the idea in favor of fast food half-way through the drive.

“Ah so you’re unprepared huh? Someone a little nervous?” Gracie playfully mocked Kellen, giggling as she moved his hand away from her side, knowing fully well that he would tickle her until she couldn’t breathe. It was one of things she hated about being ticklish but at least he was there. “You could just admit you can’t cook.”

“Well yeah I’m unprepared. We only decided this was happening less than a minute ago.” He was nervous, but not for the reason she thought. He didn’t like that he was nervous to be alone with her, but that was the truth of the matter. “You could just admit that you’re a butthead,” he mocked.

“Oh we are name calling huh?” Gracie gaped at him, “You’re the butthead, you’re over here like ‘oh yes I can cook now’,” her voice lowering to mock him in which she ended up laughing. She was enjoying the atmosphere between them, although you could see they were still hesitant, she found herself slowly opening up again and could start seeing for the best of them.

“Yes, yes we are... Hey! I don’t sound like that!” He laughed at her impersonation. “You know, you can walk home, if you think I’m such a butthead.” He would never actually make her walk home, but that never stopped him from making joking threats. He started the car and turned the radio on to hear Sucker by The Jonas Brothers. “Did I ever tell you that Vito deadass loves the Jonas Brothers? Oh shit. I just fucking said ‘deadass.’ Kill me now.”

“It’s a gorgeous day, I would totally walk,” Grace replied, of course, she’d most likely call Trixie or Maya to come get her but she knew Kellen was joking. Hearing the information about Vito and Kellen’s new slang, she laughed even harder. “Oh my god...that’s when you know you hang around Vito a lot—are you trying to fit in with the younger kids?”

"It's gonna be dark soon though..." After all this time, he still felt protective over Gracie. Kellen knew that she was an adult woman and could take care of herself, yet he still had the overwhelming urge to keep her safe from the dangers of the world. "Oh fuck no. Teenagers fucking suck." He liked younger children, but teenagers annoyed him. Kelsie was a pre-teen now, and the thought of her becoming a bratty teen in a few years terrified him.

“I can agree with that, they’re rather rude as well, but we all were teenagers once. It’s the hormones.” Gracie waved it off, at least that’s how she assumed that most teenagers are. The only time she was a total brat was when her dad wouldn’t let her go out of town trip with her friends junior year of high school. Funny how times changed since then. “Isn’t your kid going to be a teenager soon, I heard the talk backs are worse.”

"Yeah, and I know what I was like as a teenager. I was an absolute menace to society. I would not wish that on anyone." It also didn't help that he was actively taking hard drugs and hanging out with people who encouraged his assholish behavior. "Don't remind me. If she's anything like her mom, she's gonna sass the hell out of me." He didn't even want to think of the possibility of Kelsie turning out like him. He felt she was smart enough not to make the same mistakes he made, and emotionally stable enough to not feel as though she needed to turn to substances to cope.

“Hey, with you and her mom as her parents. She won’t end up like that...she has a good support system so I think she would make the right choices.” Gracie reassured Kellen, knowing that he was probably worried about that the most. Kellen may seem like a menace, which he was, but she got to see another side of him that made her love him to this day. “I think things will turn out good.”

“I hope so. Her step-mom’s a pretty good influence too, I think.” While Cassie and and her fiancée, Mel, hadn’t officially tied the knot, Mel was very involved. He was lucky that he got along with his ex’s new partner. “I know I shouldn���t worry too much. She’s a good kid... But while we’re on the topic of teenagers, what were you like in high school?” Gracie was only a year younger than Kellen, but they never crossed paths until adulthood. At least, he didn’t remember meeting her before 2018.

Gracie turned her gaze away and intertwined her fingers in her lap, the thought of her in high school brought up some emotions and other feelings she hasn’t felt since she was sixteen to eighteen. Although her parents sheltered her a lot, mostly her father, due to her sisters wild tendencies, Gracie was the typical good student and daughter. “I wish I could say I had some cool stories to tell but sadly...I was a straight A student, never stayed out past curfew, never talked back to my parents unless it was over food choices,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “lost my virginity when I was seventeen because I wanted to experience the big deal but also I was pressured...my then boyfriend, who was on a baseball team...anyways...it was nothing special.”

Kellen silently listened to her answer, nodding along to show that he was paying attention. She had a much more normal high school experience that he did. He gripped the steering wheel tighter when she brought up her high school boyfriend. He didn't know which of her exes it was, but he had the urge to find the guy and sucker punch him. "You were good at school and had a good relationship with your parents. Those aren't bad things, you know. Maybe you could've used a good party or two to loosen you up, but other than that, seems like you had a pretty normal high school experience... This boyfriend though... Who was it? If you don't mind me asking. The lawyer or the chef?"

She nodded her head in thought, he had a point, she had a good high school experience but it was more due to less stress on her parents due to her sister. Gracie felt the corner of her mouth twitch, “Kellen...this was so long ago...you don’t need to be upset.” Her eyes met his, “honestly it was so bad I don’t even remember but I believe he now is a lawyer...we broke up after high school...a year later we tried it again...didn’t work out, dated the chef before I met you and honestly...I know this will make your head get big. But, you were the best.”

Kellen pouted as she spoke. “Still. He shouldn’t have done that,” he asserted, firmly. The fact that she said he was the best did give him a big head, but his mind turned back to earlier when she said someone had been ‘satisfying her really well.’ “Even better than this mystery new guy who always meets your needs?” he asked, hoping to catch her in a lie. He wanted— no, needed— to know that she wasn’t actually seeing someone else.

Grace forgot about the little white lie she told to Kellen, since it was in fact a lie, the only person she was seeing was the vibrator that was stashed away in her night stand drawer. “I’d say you’re tied.” She replied with a small shrug of her shoulders, fighting the urge to crack and admit it was in fact, a lie.

"Tied?" he asked, trying not to appear bothered. He was really hoping she would crack, but it seemed that she may have actually been moving on from him. But the fact that she kissed him earlier and invited him back to her apartment made him hopeful. Maybe if he prodded her further, he'd catch her. "So what's this guy's name anyways?"

Gracie cursed under her breath, realizing that she didn’t have a name, blurting out the first name coming to mind. “Gordon. His name is Gordon.” She mentally face palmed, out of all the names, she had to think of Gordon Ramsey.

Kellen wanted to be mad, but he bursted into laughter upon hearing the name Gordon. "Gordon? Fucking Gordon?! Where'd you meet him, the nursing home? Do you have to help him up and down the stairs when he visits your place? Gordon! I can't believe I was about to get jealous over a guy with an old man name." He also couldn't believe that he admitted that out loud. He would smack himself in the face if he wasn't driving.

Grace felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, of course he would find the whole thing hilarious. Even she wanted to laugh at herself but hearing his words next had her smirking as she looked out the window, seeing her place coming up. “Yeah yeah...laugh it up, at least Gordon can hit it right.”

He noticed the blush from the corner of his eye and smirked in satisfaction. Her next comment about Gordon elicited an overdramatic gasp from Kellen. "You take that back!" He noticed her apartment, but couldn't find a spot on the block, so he circled around, finding a spot on the next block over. "Do you want me to make dinner for you or not?"

Grace rolled her eyes, “from the sounds of you being uncertain, I feel like I’ll be the one to cook something.” She raised her eyebrows playfully, “but it’s cute that you’re getting over Gordon—even if he has an old mans name.” The brunette wonder if that’s what she should make her vibrator at this point.

“No, no. I said I’d do it, so I’m gonna fuckin’ do it. And you’re gonna be impressed as hell. You’ll be saying, ‘Wow Kellen, I was wrong. You can cook. I’m sorry for doubting you.’” He did his best impression of her— which was not very good— while talking about what she would hopefully be saying after he was done in the kitchen. He was determined to do a good job— no, a great job. Kellen stopped the car and took his seatbelt off. “Ready for me to blow your mind?”

“By food wise?” Gracie smiled cheekily as she took her own seatbelt off and opened the door, “or are we talking about something else?” She called out as she shut the car door behind her and pulled out her keys from her purse, “because food I’m a little skeptical, but I said I would give it  a try. So do your best,” grace said over her shoulder as she walked up the walk way towards her apartment, punching in the code and opening the door.

"Maybe I'm talking about food, maybe I'm talking about other things, maybe both. Who knows? Not you. I'm not telling," he teased, smirking at her. Once they were both out of the car, he locked the doors. "I'm gonna blow your mind and you can take that as you will." He winked at Gracie, entering the apartment building.

“Whatever you say,” she sang out, smiling, the nerves were still there but she tried not to think about it too much due to her habit of talking gibberish to make up for the awkward silence. But it was Kellen, he made her feel comfortable. As they entered into her apartment, she kicked off her shoes and walked further inside, scratching the side of her head. “So we added a few new plants since the last time you came around.” Grace commented knowing that it was more than a few, the fact she and Trixie loved plants was a problem.

Kellen took his shoes off as he entered the apartment, out of courtesy to her more than anything else. It wasn’t something he did in his own home, but knew it was a preference of hers. He looked around the apartment at the ‘few’ new plants she had purchased. “A few? It’s like a plant zoo in here. What are those called? The zoos for plants?” he asked, unable to remember the name for botanical gardens. “Your water bill must be ridiculous.”

“Botanical Gardens?” Gracie asked amusingly, she turned around to look up at Kellen. “It adds a little touch but also did you want something to drink or look through my kitchen?” She walked into her kitchen and switched on the light, reaching up toward her cupboard and grabbed a cup.

“Yes! Botanical gardens. That’s what your apartment looks like.” He followed her into the kitchen and began raiding her refrigerator for supplies. “I’m good, thanks.” He pulled out a few things from the fridge and placed them onto the counter. Upon opening the vegetable drawer, he found an old bag of salad that had wilted and browned. “I think it’s time you throw this out,” he commented.

Grace glanced over and laughed, “That isn’t mine but I agree,” she shakes her head, “okay maybe it is mine.” Gracie shrugged as she reached into the fridge for the water pitcher and started pouring some into her cup.

"Unless it's got Trixie's name written all over it, you've got joint custody over this shit. I don't think she'll mind us getting rid of this though." He chuckled, turning around to toss the bag into the garbage. The way Kellen and Vito ran their household was that all of the groceries belonged to both of them equally unless one of them specifically claimed something, such as leftovers or specific sweets they liked. They tended to eat dinner together most nights, but there were nights where Vito wanted to have alone time with Verity. "Looks like you've got the fixings for chicken parm."

Gracie completely forgot about the salad, and she was certain Trixie hasn’t had the time to look in the fridge. Grace also tend to buy things that were quick fix and not time consuming. Lost in thought, she set her glass of water down and chuckled. “Chicken parm sounds good, just don’t burn it.” She said before hopping up onto the counter to sit and watch him cook.

Kellen rolled his eyes at her comment, sarcastically responding, “So set it on fire, got it. Turn the oven up to 500° and leave it in for seven hours. Thanks for the encouragement, chief.” He bit his lip as he watched Gracie jump up on the counter. He briefly imagined what he could be doing to her against that counter, but quickly dismissed the thought. “Look, I know you like to feel tall, but I’m going to need that counter space. You mind waiting in the living room or something?”

“Mmm...I’d rather watch you to make sure you don’t burn anything,” she laughed lightly, swinging her legs softly, leaning on her hands, “Why are you distracted if I stayed here? Here I thought you were good at paying attention to detail.”

“I don’t know how you expect me to clean these chicken breasts if I have no space to do it. Also I need you to show me where you keep your cutting board and bowls and stuff.” Kellen blinked at her, putting his hand on his chest. “Are you accusing me of not paying attention to detail? Me, a tattoo artist? How dare you.”

“There’s the sink,” she jokingly stated, flashing a smirk at Kellen, sighing as she rolled her eyes. “I have to give you a little teasing since you always tease me any chance you get.” Gracie stated, fluttering her eyes at him.

"A little? What do you mean a little? You tease me all the damn time! I have not known peace since the start of this da-- " Kellen caught himself slipping and had to quickly correct himself, mentally reminding himself that they weren't a couple. "Encounter." He turned away from her and began looking through her drawers for a chef's knife.

Gracie couldn’t help but to laugh at his frustration, pretending to not hearing the end of the last word, was this a date or was it just an encounter. She almost forgot it was supposed to be two friends...exes hanging out, yet she felt tension every time he came near her, that had her wanting to pull him close and get lost in him. Clearing her throat as she hopped down from the counter and rubbed the back of neck. “I’ll...get out of your way so you can cook.”

He could feel the tension in the air, and paused, trying to figure out where he went wrong. "You know I was just kidding, right?" he asked, softly. "I'm not actually mad at you or anything... And I don't mind you staying in here. I just need the counter space." After shuffling around, he finally found a cutting board and knife and placed both on the counter. He then took the chicken out of its packaging and began cutting the gristle off. "Ah shit," he muttered to himself, going to the sink the rinse his hands off before turning the oven on to pre-heat. "Where are your oven trays?"

Gracie walked around him and crouched down to open the cup board and pulled out the tray and held it up, “anything else?” She asked before standing up and realizing how short she really was next to him. Gracie always felt tiny when she was next to him, she also enjoyed being wrapped up in his arms that made her feel safe. “Wait what are you making again? I completely spaced out at the thought of you undercooking the chicken.”

He paused as he thought of whether he needed anything. “Cooking spray, for the oven tray. Oh! And breadcrumbs.” He pouted at her next words. “Chicken parm. It’s pretty hard to undercook considering you have to fry and bake it. You have no faith in me, do you?”

She laughed, “I have faith in you...it’s just been awhile since I’ve seen you in the kitchen—and the fact you said you can cook some meals? It’s hard to believe.” She teased him once more, finding it amusing as she grabbed the items he requested and set it down next to him, looking up at him as she brought the glass of wine to her lips and taking a small sip.

“Well yeah, it’s been...” He paused to count the months on his fingers. “Eight months. I’ve learned a few things in that time.” He learned a lot about himself in the months since their breakup. He learned that he could actually cook if he put effort into it and followed recipe instructions. He learned that he could live without illicit substances. He learned that it was okay to reach out to others for help. And he learned that his love for Gracie hadn’t faltered in their months apart, not even a little.

Gracie smiled into the glass and nodded her head, “Yeah...I also learned a lot about myself and I was thankful for Maya and Trixie. I was in a slump after our break up, I just worked and went home.” She admitted, setting the cup down and sighed, “It also made me realize that I do love you and that I fell hard and fast unexpectedly with you.”

“Hey, that’s better than going to work, going straight to the bar, getting shitfaced, flirting with a stranger, getting too sad to bone, then going home alone... Dammit. Maybe this is why the gossip fucker always calls me ‘Kellen the Crier.’” He sighed loudly, then went back to his task of getting the gristle off the chicken. Once that was done, he went to go crack a few eggs in a bowl, but stopped once Gracie started talking again. “Grace, I— fuck. You were the first person I fell in love with after years of shutting myself off from love. When I saw you in that bar back in 2018, I just knew there was something special about you.”

“Here I thought you were thinking, what is this girl doing in this bar,” she smiled, recalling the incident easily, seeming lost but also uncomfortable with the guy before Kellen saves her. Gracie could feel the butterflies erupting in the pit of her stomach at his confession, the look he gave her made it all the more intense, their time together was intense yet satisfying. “Or if I was lost.”

“Well, that too,” he teased, chuckling. “It really wasn’t your kind of bar.” Any type of bar was Kellen’s type of bar, which was exactly the problem. Except extremely fancy ones; those were the types of bars he was known for getting kicked out of.

Gracie laughed, "You do have a point." It was beyond her ideal area to get drunk yet she was there and almost got pounced on until Kellen came into the picture and saved her from being perhaps taken advantage of. "Why did you even help in the first place...I'm pretty sure I seen you entertaining someone else before you came and practically man handled me out of there." She jokingly stated, placing her hand on her hip as she leaned against the counter.

Kellen thought back to that night. He had been flirting with another girl before he found Gracie, but the other girl had as much personality as a pile of laundry. She seemed pretty annoyed when he left abruptly, but Kellen didn’t care. He had locked eyes with a distressed woman and something in him said that he needed to do something. “I dunno. My gut said so. Why’d you go to that scuzzy place to begin with?”

Grace chewed on her lip before speaking, “I just ended things with someone and he said I was so boring that I never excited him,” at the time she was a little hurt at those words but now she knew her worth and understand that sometimes it doesn’t go well for others. “So I figured why not go to the nearest grungy bar.”

He frowned at her answer. “You know that probably wasn’t one of your better ideas, right?” Abandoning cooking for a moment, he turned around, walking over to her. He hadn’t started breading the chicken yet, as he was distracted by conversation. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re very interesting. That schmuck missed out.” He leaned down, closing the gap between them by pressing his lips to hers.

Gracie was about to respond something witty when she felt his lips against hers, which she automatically leaned into him and grasping the side of his face. His words and his actions made her heart melt, realizing they were once again crossing the line of staying friends. But how could she when she loved him so much, the idea of food forgotten because she craved something more, she craved him.

Kellen knew he was playing a dangerous game. As always, Kellen was impulsive and didn't think about the consequences of his actions. This time, he didn't care what the consequences were as long as he could be close to her. He wanted to show her how he felt about her, and wanted reassurance that it wasn't all one-sided. He knew he had to go back to cooking soon, otherwise they'd be starving for the rest of the night. But for now, he just wanted to feel her lips against his and her hair through his fingers.

Gracie didn’t care for the food at the moment, she only cared for the moment she was sharing with Kellen, it felt comforting and the void in her chest was gone. The brunette moved her hand down his chest to slide under his shirt, shivering at the feeling of his skin against her hand. She knew she shouldn’t continue further than this, especially with them in the kitchen where her roommates could come back any second.

His breath hitched as her fingers met his skin. He put one of his hands on her hip, the other in her hair. In an act of impulse and desire, Kellen pulled her hair back, breaking the kiss to whisper in her ear, “So there are a few things that can happen next. You could help me finish making this meal… or we could take this into the bedroom. Your choice.”

She could feel goosebumps rising on her skin at his whisper, the way his lips brushed against them, she couldn’t think straight nor could she think logically at the moment as she weighed out the options. Gracie didn’t care about the food at the moment and she could only think of him at the moment, “bedroom,” she whispered and brought his lips back against hers.

“Good choice,” he whispered back, biting her bottom lip. The idea of just being friends had completely gone out the window. How could he just be friends with someone who he used to be so intimate with— who he still wanted to be intimate with? It just wasn’t going to work.

#Grace Rothschild #self para

[violetsystems]

#personal

It is usually my favorite time of the year.  Although, I do remember a Halloween years ago when I sat in a corner at a party on my phone alone scrolling through tumblr.  My mom loves this time of year.  Her birthday is Monday and we usually walk in the day of the dead parade in my neighborhood.  Her costume this year is a gypsy witch which if anybody didn’t know by now is part of my heritage.  My Croatian grandfather dropped out in the sixth grade after his mother died.  He would tell me stories of the church refusing to bury her and how he had to take care of his siblings learning six languages in the process.  He and his brother were in the army and Navy respectively.  He married into a Bohemian German family where he had two daughters.  My mother lives in the house she grew up in.  I used to sit at the table on Sundays watching Shaw Brothers films while my grandfather taught me Serbian curse words.  My favorite movie back then was Chinese Superninjas and my grandmother was always asleep in a chair listening to a Cubs game.  Anytime anyone got decapitated I would look to my grandfather and he would be lost in an article about electronics.  The basement was filled with wires and circuit boards.  He was a licensed union electrician who fell into disability.  Before that he was an army mechanic in the war.  Magic and technology was what filled most of my adolescence.  My father’s side of the family was all Swedish, a son of a poor Lutheran minister and also in the military.  Back then, families were a little more nuclear.  My mom’s cousin and my dad’s sister met around the same time my dad and my mom.  Subsequently, I have twin cousins who are eerily double related.  I also have a cousin on that side of the family who lives in Hong Kong as is adopted.  I learned the hard way sitting at a dinner table at a school called Li Po Chun where she lived and taught.  I spoke about music and art at that school to survivors of the Iraq war who openly hated Americans like myself.  I remember my cousin telling me how important it was how I cut through that hate and fear talking about music with them.  That night the oldest living relative was at the table.  It was the first time I ever set foot in China let alone Hong Kong.  Her daughter who was half Kenyan and her son who was half Chinese sat at that table along with her husband from Beijing.  Louise sat at the head of the table attended by a live in nurse.  She was in her nineties at that point.  Her husband had passed but was a Swedish missionary who travelled the world helping people depending on your political views.  I said out loud how it was good to meet someone who I was blood related to halfway across the world.  She gave a hushed and sad smile.  “Your dad never told you did he?”  My cousin was adopted.  Later after dinner I sat with her son and drew.  It was his favorite activity to share.  He taught me Chinese characters and I taught him the Korean characters I knew.  We never talked about blood ever again.

Being an only child, these experiences of connection to family can be intense.  There really isn’t much of a legacy for me back here in the states.  My parents are divorced.  My dad remarried into a family that is very different from what I am used to.  His wife is nice but religious.  Some of the family are police.  My dad told me once her brother had fallen into a culture of online forums for gun rights.  I spoke to my dad over the phone just the other day.  We gently brushed politics over Pelosi and Mnuchin.  My dad is an accountant.  It’s easy to shift the conversation to something like stocks.  But truthfully, I know he and his wife support things like the supreme court nomination.  That frightens me in more ways than anyone can know.  But those kind of politics have done nothing for me in this situation I have found myself in over the last four or five months.  The only piece of government action that affects me favorably at all has been the CARES act.  More specifically, the fact that the bulk of my pension is affected by the tax legislation.  It literally saved my life.  That expires at the end of the year and who knows when the next round of layoffs will happen.  And yet politicians are sitting in offices they were bought into arguing concepts about when life begins.  Which is funny because politicians don’t really care about life.  They care about money, power and how to control the bulk of it.  The tones of an election year are deafening over ideological talking points.  I hear people like Ken Griffin talking about how he’d rather not pay fair taxes.  I also hear Ken Griffin donates heavily to the campaigns of Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio.  He has his prize Basquiat hanging in the Art Institute along with his history of supporting the Christian right.  I never made the connection as to why abortion protesters were always allowed to protest outside of that school.  They used to stand there for hours with signs in front of my building.  Years later, there’s a chick fil a right next door.  It seems odd until you realize the money is all connected, ideologically and otherwise.  In America these days, freedom is only attached to religious expression and the money attached to it.  A woman’s right to choose factors nowhere into this.  However you feel about abortion or religion in general in America should fall down to a basic function.  Is it government’s job to dictate what you do with your life on an ideological level?  Or is it their job to use your tax dollars to maintain infrastructure?  In an era where the Senate in America is only concerned about loading the courts with yes men and women, it’s pretty obvious.  The stimulus to keep the economy going is nowhere in sight.  People like Ken Griffin talk loudly about how the answer is getting people back to work and not incentivising people to hurt the GDP.   Liam Gallagher and Johnny Marr are among a host of musicians who have hit back at London Chancellor’s Rishi Sunak’s suggestion that people should “adapt” their jobs during the ongoing coronavirus pandemic.  They would much rather get you back in the machine in any number of startups their sons created.  Ken Griffin got rich of his daddy’s connections in times like these.  Just like the health care industry gets rich putting you at risk.  I put my money in the markets too with no help or advice.  For the record, I’m doing quite well these days in my portfolio without any handouts other than my pension.

All the while, I’m trying to apply for jobs in the most insensitive, impersonal and isolated time of my life.  I’m alone in ways I cannot explain or even comprehend.  And I’m stuck in the middle with people I love like ghosts on the net trying to find a voice.  These people in power say they care.  Say they have divine insight from God about how you should live your life.  Have all the time in the world to type their feelings and beliefs on twitter but do absolutely nothing to help the country heal.  And I sit in financial webinars with banks and investors who all say the same thing.  The country needs help from the government to recover from these dangerous times.  A time where health care is so important and so expensive.  Who profits from all this death?   The doctors and lawyers that move to Saipan and other tax havens to escape their fair share of the blame?  The country is number one at dying these days from a disease that’s easily mitigated by keeping to yourself and wearing a mask.  Sounds poetic.  And yet everyone can’t keep their distance from me when I walk out the door to restock my fridge.  They can’t help sabotaging every attempt to keep my mental state in tact when I face crippling social exclusion.  I do still have friends.  Mostly in the neighborhood.  And yet there’s enemies too.  It seems living in this town for years has only one advantage.  Everyone thinks they know everything about me.  They think I’m a Chinese spy.  They think I’m a Satanist.  They think I’m in league with a secret organization hell bent on destroying American freedom.  And they act out on it every day in my public space without my consent because they think they know me.  But they never ask my name.  They never look me in the eye.  They gossip and plot behind my back.  And sooner or later, I just get bored and adapt.  I apply for more jobs overseas.  All the jobs in China.  A few in New York.  But New York is more of the same.  Startups for daddy’s little business school graduate.  A bunch of cock sure closet misogynists who have learned the slick talk corporate snake oil about freedom.  These people care so much about your uterus they voted for a guy who literally said in the most vulgar terms to impregnate women forcefully.  You think those people care about human life at any stage of conception?  They care about votes.  They care about people to brainwash.  Cheap labor.  I literally had to listen to a Bloomberg pundit talk about how a baby boom in the COVID era would be great for shareholders.  Trillion dollar companies that pass the savings onto investors instead of the consumer.  I hear nothing but people banging the war drum to increase the cost of things.  Inflation is a good thing when the wealth disparity is so wildly out of balance.  These times seem dark.  Almost comedic.  But when you shine the light for years from this lighthouse you know one thing.  These people are nothing but husks on a balance sheet.  They have no culture and no history other than burying and exiling the truth until it drowns in the river like a mob hit.  And America is drowning in this cesspool day after day.  I’m an only child.  There’s a chance my legacy will die and never be retold.  But then again, there are things out there more precious than blood.  And the streets run red with it everyday without a care in the world.  What price do you put on a life when you value none of it?  Ask Ken Griffin.  I’m sure he could buy your silence.  Or maybe he has enough money to throw away to silence you for good.  It’s the Chicago way after all.  I should know.  <3 Tim

[setoangel01-fanfiction]

Confrontation

Beautiful Disaster - Chapter 3 (Previous Chapters)

Rated: T

Chapter Summary: Ash tries to get some answers from Johnny as to how he acquired his injuries - it's a lot harder than she expects.

Fanfiction.net

A03

Ash wasn't even fully aware of what was happening since her eyes locked onto the horrific injury. Vision blurring with unshed tears as she stared in abhorrent shock at the slit in his green jumper and the blood pooling around it. Some of the blood drenching it is dry, dark and clinging to the fibers of the shirt but also way too obvious that some was far too fresh. Johnny dodging her hand as she tried to help him must have injured him further…and that killed her.

This whole situation was outright horrifying.

It had to be a dream or some kind of demented nightmare for who on earth would hurt him? Johnny would never even fathom hurting another soul; so gentle and kind to everyone he met - what cruel, heartless person could actually stab him?!

…just what the hell happened…?!

Ash had grown completely unaware of how she was practically hyperventilating; eyes blurring with tears as she stared at the obvious stab wound Johnny had acquired…

The worst part was he still refused to tell her what took place tonight…

"Oh God, Johnny…Oh my God!" she screamed, hand moving to cover her mouth in the sheer horror of what she was witnessing. Something inside of her chest shattered at the reality she was being faced with and yet, Johnny refused to clarify whatsoever.

"It's alright! I'm alright! Everything turned out fine!" Johnny muttered, trying fruitlessly to pull away from her but found he didn't have the energy; only able to scoot up a bit further against the cold tiles of the wall. Part of him wished to flee, but Ash had already seen the wound and it was too late to hide it now.

Ash pushed her hand forward, ignoring Johnny flinching at her action but not caring in the least, as she touched the stained cloth around the wound she still had yet to see in its brutal entirety. Anxiety steadily began building in her gut; all too aware of the amount of blood staining his shirt and the fur underneath.

Just so much blood…

Lungs filling with frigid air; chest a gaping wound as she continually stared at it; confronting the reality that this indeed happened to Johnny - this wasn't a nightmare but brutal reality.

Yet, the questions still lingered like a horrible overcast shadow - Who did this? Why would anyone hurt him? How could this have happened to someone like him? Someone who had never hurt anybody…

Absolutely none of this made sense and Johnny tried to hide it from her; pulling away and treating it as if it was NOTHING! That he wasn't stabbed and possibly bleeding to death and something inside of her snapped.

"What the hell do you mean you're alright?!" something in Ash finally broke; the words came out choked and raspy but she found out she didn't fucking care. All she wanted was answers and dammit, she wanted them now.

"..."

"How can you possibly be okay?! You call this fine?!" the voice that came out of her mouth was so incredibly raw; the pain etched in it made Johnny flinch back a bit.

"..."

"...and what if it hadn't!? WHAT?" Ash continually shouted not even giving him time to ponder any sort of response..

"I-I don't…." Johnny tried to speak but Ash didn't let him finish.

"I'll tell you - you would have died, Johnny. That…that tomorrow, you'd never show up for work. I-I would gonna call your phone and you don't answer. T-T-That I'd be watching the news and find out my best friend had been killed and found dead i-in some ditch or dirty alley somewhere…Is that okay to you!?" Ash yelled, voice breaking and eyes misting over as she stared angrily at him.

Johnny grew completely silent; his chestnut eyes falling from her drilling gaze.

"This is not okay, Johnny. It's not. You're not… B-But before I argue with you anymore, I-I need to call an ambulance. You need to go the hospital!" she muttered more to herself as she reached into her skirt pocket to retrieve her phone when suddenly Johnny's hand was on hers and effectively blocking her from her task.

"NO!" he shouted and Ash's quills prickled on end…she had never heard Johnny shout like that and apparently, he hadn't either by how surprised he was when it came out.

"I-I'm sorry Ash…I…B-But, no…I-I-I can't go to the hospital." Johnny continued as almost an afterthought, pulling in on himself; his arms wound tight around his waist in a fruitless yet desperate attempt to keep his wound out of sight and out of mind for her. Needless to say, it didn't work.

A few moments passed before Ash found her voice again.

"Heh. W-Why not? In case you haven't noticed - you got fucking stabbed!" Ash said a lot more calmly than she felt at the moment. Her heart was beating a million miles an hour and her head was aching something fierce. None of this made sense and the horrific nature of what exactly took place tonight was driving her out of her fucking mind and now he refused to go to the hospital?!

A part of her questioning if any of this was really happening…

"Ash, please…I-I can't. Alright?" Johnny avoided her gaze the best he could but all it succeeded in doing was for her to keep drawing her eyes to the bloody stain in his jumper his hands didn't bother to hide anymore. The crimson leaking into the green staunchly contrasted and one thing for sure, Ash would never associate those two colors with Christmas ever again…

"...Why the hell not?" Ash asked steadily, doing her best to stay calm in this hellish situation.

"I-I…"

"Why not, Johnathan?" she growled, using his full name as a last resort.

"...because I can't bloody afford it, Ashley!" he growled back while using the same dirty tactic on her.

Ash's eyes narrowed at the use of her full first name (the ones her parents would use to especially ruffle her quills) and context but it worked for a moment, she had to give him that. All she wanted to know is when she became the one being disciplined in this situation.

Yet Ash wouldn't be silenced, "C'mon, you have to have some kind of insurance or something! Hell, even Moon has those that need it on that one program of his."

"...Ash…I'm bloody broke. I have nothing, alright? Nearly every cent I make is going to my dad's high-end lawyer - if I miss just one payment - just one - he'll drop my dad as a client, and…I-I can't let that happen. I just can't…"

"So, let me get this straight - you've been stabbed yet won't call the ambulance - will you at least call the police? Because dammit, Johnny, I'm not stupid - someone did this to you and they're still out there! What's to say they won't do it again?"

Johnny turned his face away; gaze steadfast off to some far off point before mumbling out, "I can't call the police..."

"...why the hell not? What if they're still looking for you and want to finish the job? You want those maniacs on the street?"

"I can't call the police because I don't want my dad to know! If the police find out, word will get to him…I know it will."

"Heh. I hate to put a hitch in your plans, but your dad is going to notice especially when you show up looking like this!" Ash didn't mean to yell, she really didn't, but she couldn't help it. Looking at Johnny's battered and blood smeared face broke something precious in her.

"I-I'll just tell him I was busy with work. I can get away with that since it's not really a lie. I just won't go see him until I've fully healed." Johnny shrugged and Ash's countenance fell.

"...does he have something to do with this?" It was like a light went on in her head; recalling Johnny telling her his father's extensive criminal history. How many years he'd been the leader of a gang that worked with a seedy under-network of criminals to steal vast amounts of cash and other goods. Johnny's father was almost like a kingpin - it shocked her how his son turned out so squeaky clean and not a bad bone in his body with a father like that. His mother must have been one hell of a good woman…

It had been long drawn out minutes but Johnny still hadn't answered the question and to Ash, that was an immediate 'yes' whether he wanted to admit it or not. Sometimes Johnny's silence was more telling than him speaking - she could read his eyes better anyway. The boy wore his heart on his sleeve.

"Johnny, why don't you want your father to know?" Ash asked; thinking perhaps a different tactic was in order if she wanted him to keep talking.

"..." Johnny remained silent.

"Look, if whatever happened tonight was somehow the result of your father's involvement in any way - this isn't your problem. What's the problem with telling him about it?"

"...Ash, my dad very may spend the rest of his life behind bars…" Johnny sighed and it wasn't news to her but the way he said it with his shoulders slumped and the saddest expression on his face hurt her like hell. "Yet, with this lawyer, he could possibly be out in as little as ten years - and…I want that. I-I want my dad out of that place. To have some kind of future…He's all I have left and I…I want to bring him home." he whimpered the last part; tears filling his chestnut eyes and it broke her heart in two.

"..." Ash didn't know what to say so she remained silent.

"If I told him what was happening - hell, even if word got out that I got me arse kicked by anybody - I have no doubt in my mind that my dad would break out of that prison again to murder whoever did it." Johnny muttered and Ash was surprised by Johnny's use of profanity, but seeing how emotionally and physically battered as he was right now - it seemed well warranted.

"The wardens and prosecutors already warned us that if he tries that stunt again…it's automatic life without parole…" his teary eyes finally met hers and the pain lacing them shocked her to her very core, "Ash, my dad would die in prison…I can't let that happen…I just can't." Johnny finished with a sigh, a shaking hand lifting to wipe at his face; flinching when he touched his swollen flesh and Ash was so tempted to pull his hand away so he didn't further hurt himself but she didn't.

Ash froze - staring as Johnny as if for the first time.

Realizing now just how selfless this guy was - always thinking of others and scarcely of himself. It hurt that as open as he was with her, he never bothered to tell her any of this; that for as close as they were in and out of the theater, he never mentioned the demons he was secretly battling.

On the tip of her tongue, she wanted to argue, to rebel against the harsh realities he told her. To tell him to call the police and ambulance to get him more help and catch the assholes that hurt him, but a part of her knew Johnny wouldn't allow it. Didn't want to go against his wishes and rupture this relationship she had with him - refused to ever let that happen…

It left Ash with only one choice…

"Fine. Since the ambulance and even calling the police is off the table - let me help at least clean up your wounds." Ash offered and for one of the few times tonight, Johnny met her eyes.

"Oi, Ash, you don't 'ave to. These are my problems - not yours."

"...I want to. Now come on." Ash offered a shaking paw which she just noticed had a few splotches of his blood staining her fur. It bothered her immensely but she ignored it for now to keep her offer open.

"...A-Ash, I…"

"Please." the words felt so foreign on her tongue, "I want to help you, Johnny…Let me help you."

The offer of her hand extended; Johnny's eyes flicking from the proffered hand to her face and back again as if trying to figure out of here was any ulterior motive but there was none in those crystal blue eyes.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he'd given her a stiff nod before taking her hand.

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