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kayrogers · 4 years

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sugar baby ][ r. drysdale

50 shades / CEO au

Paring(s): ceo!ransom x curator!reader

Inspo: the embarrassing amount of ransom smut I've read

Word Count: 2300+

Warning(s): cursing, implied smut, unequal power-dynamic, mention of kinks, and ransom being the hot douche he is

Part: part 1 | part ??

A/N: imma be real with y’all I saw knives out in theaters like three times and I am absolute ransom trash, I apologize

It was already a shitty day.

By the time you had reached Thrombey Selects, you were on the verge of frustrated tears and you hadn’t even gone into your interview yet.

Your day started normal enough, you prepared for your interview and organized your portfolio about ten different times before you could run out the door. Coffee was a better option than actual food for breakfast as the thing really filling your stomach was anxiety. You had only gotten your masters recently and it was a miracle that you were given an interview at Thrombey Selects, only having pulled together minimal art galleries — most of which were done as part of getting your degree in the first place.

Then there was the subway. It felt like it took forever to get to the Lower East Side, especially being sat between two men with no concept of personal space and a snot-nosed two year old giving you a stink eye across the aisle. And to make matters worse you got a coffee spilled on your dress right as you walked off the train. The woman who spilled it actually had the audacity to scream at your face, and say it was your fault, like she wasn’t nose-deep in her phone. Luckily, you had left your apartment super early and you stopped at the nearest department store you could find. A too-expensive little black dress later and you were on your way to Thrombey Selects. And then it down poured and by the time you walked into the building, every inch of you was drenched in water.

You took a deep breath, approaching the receptionist with rain droplets falling from your hair and onto the floor. She looked up at you with an unimpressed gaze, stating that you’d be meeting with a Mr. Drysdale ‘whenever he felt like showing up’. You weren’t exactly sure what that meant but you took it as a chance to dry off.

Stepping away towards an empty hallway you were quick to work, taking up residence next to a decorative plant and ringing your hair out into the pot. Taking off your cardigan was the most work, the grey material sticking to your skin like glue. You undoubtedly looked like a madman, wrestling to get the knit off and finally slicking it onto the floor to reveal the tight little number you bought.

“Quite the weather, huh?” A deep male voice said from behind you.

You jumped and nearly tripped over your heels as you turned around to find the source. That source being a very gorgeous man with piercing blue eyes. He had a confident smirk and carved features, it was almost like he was created by a sculptor in Rome.

“Oh- oh my gosh! Sorry, I um yeah... kinda got caught in the rain.” You blush with a sigh, still taking in the stranger’s appearance.

He dressed sharp, yet casual. Adorning himself in a black turtleneck and pants, accompanied by a brown trench coat and Chelsea boots. The accessory on him which drew the most attention though was a large, flowery scarf. You suddenly felt very aware of the less glamorous state of your dress and reached for the cardigan you so ungraciously plopped on the floor.

“You’re [Y/n], right? [Y/n] [Y/l/n]?” He shamelessly looked you up and down while saying that, only making you blush more.

“How do you know my-“

“Because I’m interviewing you. The name is Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you can just call me Ransom. The help call me Hugh.” His lips curled into a wide smirk and he shook your hand as it changed into a white-toothed grin.

‘The help’ stuck in your head for a moment and nearly made you frown. Any man who talked like that came from money, lots of money. And he clearly wasn’t the type to be polite about it.

“Let’s head up to my office, Honey.” And with that the two of you were on your way.

You could help but feel his eyes on you with every step you took, each click of your heels hitting the floors like a deafening clock. He opens a door to reveal a sleek, modern office room complete with a portrait of Harlan Thrombey on the back wall. You would recognize that face anywhere after reading his novels repeatedly, his picture always located in the back. He was the reason you applied here in the first place, he was passionate and creative. Any man like him would be expected to have a taste for the arts.

Ransom took his seat behind the desk and you sat in front of him gripping your portfolio tightly while he pulled out a Manila file.

“It’s interesting that grandad picked you for the interview... from the looks of it, you’re extremely under qualified compared to the rest of the staff.” Ransom immediately listed off in a twisted tone, dismissive and intrigued all at once.

You pulled a tight-lipped smile, “and yet, here I am.”

He looked up from the file, blue eyes shooting into your own holding intent you could not read. The smirk appeared on his face once more.

“Tell me about yourself, [Y/n]. I want a better understanding.” You suddenly felt small in that moment, you knew what he was actually telling you.

‘Show me why I should give a fuck about you.’

“Uh- well I’m a hard worker. I come from a low income family so I’ve been working since I was 14, in my mom’s diner. I still serve to keep up with rent, but that’s at a classier place no offense to my mom. Art has um always been my passion though... I’m sorry, am I doing this right?” You bit your lip, staring across to see Ransom sporting a sneaky smile you didn’t understand.

“How bout I help you along? Are you prepared for a lot of physical work? How much do you exercise a week? I know you may think being one of our curators is easy work, but I like to run things differently here.” That confuses you.

You know how curation works, hell it’s why you got your degree but the only physical thing you ever did was hang paintings on a wall.

“Uh- I mean I workout when I can but I’m pretty busy. I serve so I get a lot of time on my feet. But, I’m sure I can handle whatever you throw at me!” You answered honestly and watched as he quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you can Miss [Y/l/n]. So... any significant others?” Warmth filled your face at his question.

“No I am single- sorry I just don’t understand what this has to do with being a curator.” You finish with a smile to hide how unsure you were.

Ransom just grins back, “oh that is because I am opting you for a better position. Higher up, better pay grade, and more personal work with me. Here take a look,” He reaches into his desk and pulls out a black file, tossing it to you.

Opening the folder shows you a contract that makes your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

‘Sugar Baby’ is in bold at the top.

Reading through, you become flustered seeing the requirements and perks. The pay is definitely better, but is it worth the submissive role he intends you to play? Calling him ‘Sir’? Your cheeks burn as you keep flicking through, seeing all his kinks and desires written in ink. The particular emphasis on bondage and the sub/dom dynamic made heat pool between your legs. You run your thighs together in instinct, missing how his eyes light up at the response.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now. In fact, my cell is on there, take a few days to look it over and text me. If not, I can still offer you that basic paid internship of a position.” His eyes were intense when they met yours, hiding the gears which were in overdrive behind their deep blue.

He was manipulating you and he wasn’t even shy about it. You were ashamed to think that you didn’t mind it. This was insane! Completely unethical and gross, but you found yourself considering the position all the same. Especially given the rut you found yourself in for quite a while now in the sex department. Graduating and entering your career didn’t leave much time for any sexual encounters, excluding your dominant hand.

“Yeah- uhm I’ll definitely have to get back to you. Not that I’m not interested-“ Your voice betrayed you, coming out quiet and almost naive.

“- it’s a lot. Sleep on it, Babe.” He stood up and you took that as your signal to leave which you were thankful for.

“Thank you, Mr- sorry.. Ransom.” You stood as well, closing the folder and holding it tightly in your hands.

You move to grab your sopping cardigan but he scoops it up before you can.

“I’ll have our dry cleaners handle this, don’t need a potential employee getting pneumonia today. Take my jacket, I’m sure I’ll be getting it back soon.” He matter-of-factly states and hands you his trench coat.

You sling it on, feeling small in the garment made for the clearly muscular man. Even in your heels he towered over you.

“Thank you.” There’s a small smile on your face and you head towards the door.

He walks behind you, his hand finding the small of your back as he opens the office door for you.

“Can’t wait to hear from you, Miss [Y/l/n].” Ransom’s voice is low and his breath fans on the back of your neck as you exit and the door clicks behind you.

It was about 11 PM in your apartment as you sat on your bed thinking of perhaps the longest pro-con list you could with a glass of wine in hand.

You had been surfing on your laptop, gathering as much information as you could about Ransom Drysdale and the idea of being a ‘sugar baby’.

‘Pros: He’s gorgeous. We have a lot of the same kinks. It’s a lot more money than the internship. I’ll probably get some nice clothes out of this. I can stop waitressing. He’s really really hot. I have the opportunity to live my dream and work at my dream company, and get some good sex on the side.’ You thought, biting your lip and thinking too much about what he looked like without clothes on.

‘Cons: this is a very unprofessional proposition and definitely a little demeaning. He’s clearly a douche. The ‘help’ comment. I don’t know if he even is that good in bed. I don’t really know this man at all and now I’m basically signing a portion of my life to him. If he doesn’t think I’m good in bed, am I getting fucked over??’ You took a large gulp of wine, eyes focused on the computer screen in front of you.

Ransom’s crystalline eyes stared back at you through the screen, the picture from a Ralph Lauren photo shoot.

“Fuck, he’s a model too.” You muttered with a groan.

Of all the valid negatives that filled your mind, the heat pooling below your stomach at the thought of him taking control of you and your life felt much stronger. Were you a little messed up to even be considering this so heavily?? Fuck, probably.

But even so, the idea tantalized you in such a way that had you reaching for the folder to read through his demands once again.

You didn’t quite like the demands of you working out 4 times a week and completely overhauling your diet. Sure, you probably shouldn’t have been eating the amount of microwaveable and junk foods you usually did but that's none of his business! But perhaps these things could be amenable within the contract? You decided you wouldn’t take part unless they were.

But most importantly, you wouldn’t decide on anything without a good night’s sleep.

The next morning you stared at the contract as though it were the most important thing you could sign in your life. A weight settled on your shoulders and you avoided the piece of paper for the rest of the morning. Instead you decided to run through your daily routine, taking a shower and getting dressed for the day. You made yourself a cup of coffee and stared at your small apartment with a slight frown.

Reality rushed through you as you realized the position you were in before this opportunity presented itself. You have tremendous debt from school, even with the scholarships you had received. The shoebox you lived in was already barely affordable while you practically worked yourself to death at the upscale bar-restaurant you were currently employed with. The idea that you could leave all this and live lavishly on the payroll of one of the wealthiest families in New York, was one which had been growing on you enormously.

Impulsively, you grabbed your phone and typed his phone number into your messages.

‘Hello, Mr. Drysdale. Or I guess I should say, Ransom.

This is [Y/n] [Y/l/n]. I have thought over your offer and though I have a few concerns with certain aspects of the contract... I would be glad to talk them over with you and get to an agreement we are both comfortable with. I am indeed interested in this position.

When would you like to go over the details?’

You typed out the message, writing in the most professional manner you could (despite the content of the proposal). Pressing the send button sent a series of sparks through your skin and up your spine, butterflies filling your stomach.

Within minutes though, there was a response.

‘Saturday night. Be ready at 7 PM sharp. I will send a car for you. Can’t wait ;)’

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taglist(s):

sugar baby -

permanent -

@ultrunning @jesseswartzwelder

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out imagine #chris evans imagine #ceo au #50 shades au #sugar daddy au

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jjk-anime-horray · 3 years

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Meetings and Misfortune

Dazai Osamu x reader x Oda Sakunosuke

Series Summary: While Dazai finally gets over the death of his friend and moves on with his life, he has to watch him unnaturally return into the would, and now he has to watch him turn twisted and into everything he hated in a way.

Chapter Summary: Dazai finally reveals to the agency the situation they are dealing with, but their important meeting is interrupted by a public incident.

Trigger Warnings: Emotional trauma, mentions of extreme violence, mentions of emotional distress, mentions of illegal activities, and strong language.

Previous Chapter: Needed Connections

"Dazai, so you are saying that the usual agency's level of vigilance may not be against your undead associate if they choose to attack us, and the new unknown group radicals I presume." Voiced the president in his authority laced tone after Dazai finished explaining to the agency the new situation they are in.

"Not maybe, will not be, everyone should travel in at least teams of two, the unknown group we do not have any information on, other than the fact that they can raise the dead an control them, whether it's one person with the ability or one person with a necromancy ability and another one with a mind control ability, I have no idea. We do know that we could very possibly see more revived assassins in the coming times until we find the ability user or whatever is resurrecting them."

"Alright, everyone pay attention!" The president doomed, but mostly at Ranpo eating snacks in the corner. "I am going to make it official that everyone stay in a group of two or more at all times for everyone's safety for the time being, the groupings will vary from day to day based on daily assignments, but it's going to be a new rule that you cannot leave the building unless you have a partner with you. Dazai and (Y/N), shift your investigation to work on finding the new radical group, everyone is dismissed."

With that everyone rushed to go to various activities and investigations, but not without an eerie uncertainty that wasn't present before. Whatever it was is was definantly keeping you on edge, and you had a feeling that something it wasn't going to go ideally today at all, but you didn't know why, the classic hunch.

"Hey Daz, do you have any ideas where to start with looking for this new group, I have one, but it's something neither of us are going to like."

"If you mean anything other than asking the port mafia if they've had any rival groups show up than no, but it's quite the possibility that we could ask mutual-boom...... Did you hear that (Y/N)?"

"Yeah I did.....Do you know where that came from? It was kind of faint so maybe it was someone dropping something like a BUZZ BUZZ...wait a second Yosano just texted me."

Check the news. Was all that flashed on your phone's screen, and now you're curious so you check the news app, but the headline was far from pleasant.

BOMB SET OFf BY UNKOWN ROBBER GROUP AT BANK TO ESCAPE, MORE DETAILS TO ARRIVE SHORTLY.

"Oh shit, Dazai I know where we're heading next."

-----

"Well this is definantly not what I wanted to do today." He said staring at an computer, occasionally making a little clinking sound.

"You never want to do anything Dazai." You said as you were going through they bank's filing system.

The two of you were currently going through the bank's resources to find out what exactly the robber's stole. When you got to the crime scene it was blatantly obvious that this was not the usual heist considering that once you got there the two of you were told that no alarms were set off during the thieves stealing process. Meaning that they got in undetected. What was even weirder is that no money was actually stolen. The current bank you were at also offered an high-end, state of the art security vault to filthy rich buyers, with that being said the robbers most likely didn't use the bomb to escape, but to get into the vault instead.

So, the two of you were figuring out what they stole because clearly they went through a lot of trouble to get to it, and it had to be something more than just high value considering that the vault looked completely full, and all the items currently resting in it were family heirloom jewelry, paintings, and almost virtually anything a rich person would want to keep safe.

But, due to the bank's privacy policy there is not master list of all of the items in there, instead they kept in portfolios of the buyer's, so they two of you had to cross check every item in there until you figured out what was missing. While Dazai was checking the security footage, you were checking the items.

"Do you see anything on the security feed that hints to who these guys are?"

"Unfortunately the group of three were smart enough to have their faces completely covered, so the answer to that would be no. Also unfortunately there is no feed useable after the bomb was set off, but given the fact that they didn't bring any bags with them means that they stole something that could fit in their pockets. Maybe like a flash drive or something."

"Actually not a flash drive." Is all you said to cause your partner to turn around, then you elaborated. "It was a key, but unfortunately the buyer paid the bank extra money to keep their name anonymous, so we don't have any leads from that."

"Well, we know what the key looks like or do we not?"

"Yeah, there's a picture right here." You hand him the file containing all the information given about this key.

Unlike most keys it has two heads meaning that it's meant to unlock two different things. They key itself is made out of silver, engraved with some sort of writing all over it but you don't recognize it. It's also tarnished, meaning that it's probably very old along with pretty beaten up.

"It's kinda funky looking, wonder if someone shoved it down my throat it would kill me or not." With that you give your partner a classic glare. "Or not."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought, it does say that key was previously owned by a private collector, while it doesn't say their name, it does say their gallery if you could even call it that is 'Baroque.'

"Wait.....that's the auction that a bunch of filthy rich people go to quarterly, and some of the port mafia go there as well, but how are we going to even get in it's by invite only. We definantly not on the list, and last time I checked it's in about a little less than a week, do you have a miraculous plan. We could always steal someones invite....."

"We aren't going to steal anything! I have a plan, but it's stupid, and it would be a miracle if it worked."

"What might that be?"

"Ask Chuuya to see if he's willing to take me as his plus one."

At this point in time Dazai was the one staring at you, but not in they death glare way, in the way like did you literally just say that to my face sort of way.

"I'm so betrayed (Y/N)."

"Well do you have any better ideas?"

Truth be told he didn't, and he knew that his rival did have an invite because he saw him go to that auction in the past. He knew if he asked he would most definantly be killed in a matter of seconds, but you actually had a slim chance of actually convincing the short red head to help you, even if it's only temporary.

"Do you have any tips before I go Daz?"

"If you want the annoyance to actually give you a chance, you should bring some high-end wine as a bargaining chip."

While nodding in agreement, you stood up, and rushed to find the port executive. Walking into what would most likely become a complete disaster, but it's the only shot you got.

#anime #weeb #manga #x reader #platonic #romantic #odasaku x dazai #dazai osamu x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs au #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #fan fiction #odasaku x reader #odasaku #oda sakunosuke #chuuya nakahara

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maisondenachtai · 4 years

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I Like That (Part 3)

Title: I Like That Pairing: Erik X BlackFemale!Reader Previous Parts: Part 1, Part 2 summary: just uh....hide your purse aight? (author’s note: uh, ...so...um...it’s been a while right? very sorry about that but it’s here now and I already know how i’m ending it so that’s great. ...this part is written in erik’s pov cause that really helped me break the block i had on it. ...I hope you enjoy it. only one more part to go.) He knew he had fucked up. She wouldn’t even look at him and had scooted as close to her door as she possibly could. He mentally cursed himself and his ego. He wasn’t even sure why he had snapped at her so hard. What she said was fundamentally true and she had the right to speak on what she knew first hand, but it must have been the mixture of David, her being so mad at him, and the fact that her blow had hurt that had him acting up.

“Y/n, listen.”

“Erik, I said shut up.” She said looking down at her nails that were done in a french tip, something she had been doing since grade school. He remembered how her mom thought color was too ‘grown’ and that ‘young women should only have French tipped nails’. He remembered laughing at her nails in the car when she held them out for him to see, and then he remembered moaning as those same nails wrapped around him.

“I’m sorry, alright.” He sighed and rubbed his hand down his face.

“You’re always sorry Erik. It never helps anything. You’re a sorry ass nigga. So what?” She finally looked at him fury and sadness in her brown eyes.

He swallowed his anger at her name calling and looked out of the window to calm down, “Listen, I know you fucking hate me, and I don’t blame you. I treated you like shit in high school.”

“No, you treated me worst than shit. You dogged me, Erik. Do you know how it feels to be beaten down by the nigga you thought you were in love with? No you don’t because everybody loved you.” Her voice had raised, he could tell that she didn’t give a shit about the mixed company they were in.

“Y/n.”

“Don’t Y/n me. I’m going to say what I should have been said, Erik. You fucked me in private. Used me like a sex toy and in public I was your verbal punching bag. And you set the tone for everyone else in high school. High school was hell for me.”

“What was I supposed to do about it? I was a kid, Y/n. I really feel like you’re overestimating my influence.”

“You were supposed to stop it, not add on to it.”

“Well I’m sorry. I truly am. I wasn’t perfect back then and I’m not perfect now and all I can do now is apologize.”

She shook her head, wiping under her eyes quickly. “It was so long ago, and I haven’t thought about it in years. I stopped being your victim a long time ago Erik….it’s just this reunion has brought up so many memories.” She took a deep breath and exhaled looking at him again. “I’m sorry too. I’ve been acting like a child.”

“Yes you have.” He joked, laughing when she shot a scowl his way. “I’m kidding. I understand your anger. I really do. It’s not right how I treated you, and if any man treated my daughter like that I’d kill him with my bare hands.”

“Your daughter? You got a child?” She looked surprised.

He smirked, “What if I said I did? What would that mean?”

“That you still haven’t learned to use condoms.” She shook her head, running her hand through her hair. She looked surprised, as if that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

He smirked to himself.“I’m kidding. No kids yet. …Ain’t found the right woman…” He looked down her seated frame, biting down on his lip as his gaze settled on her hips and the thigh that had poked out of the slit on the dress. “And the woman I want to have my babies don’t want me.”

She was pointedly ignoring his blatant staring, choosing instead to scroll through her phone. “Well maybe you’ll have luck at the reunion. Remember that girl Monica? She’s been asking the facebook group if you were coming.”

He rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat, “Don’t nobody want Monica. Her breath was stank.” She chuckled and the sound warmed his soul.

The best times he could remember in high school was of her and him chilling in his car outside of her house. She would sneak out the window because her mom didn’t allow boys in the house and honestly didn’t like him one bit but she would take the chances of being caught outside with him anyway.

They would sit and listen to the radio, singing along with their favorite songs, and roasting the bad songs. They would sling insults back and forth until they ended up not being able to speak from laughing so hard.

In tough times, she would be a warm shoulder to lean on, saying nothing that might make him close up when he happened to cry. In reverse, he would be there times when her dad would flake on her again or forget her birthday, or when her mom was just being too restrictive.

It was those times he remembered, even more than the sex they shared, those times where she was his best friend. He missed that.

“Her breath did used to be a little tart.” She spoke back looking at him.

“A little? The girl used to exhale and burn off people’s eyebrows.”

She laughed then, fully, holding onto her stomach. “You’re mean.”

“I’m honest.” He looked out the window. They still had about twenty minutes until they made it to the reunion. “So, where did you meet David?”

She looked at him and shook her head. “Uh uh.”

“Uh uh? What do you mean uh uh?”

“You are not fixin to clown my man, okay? No. I’m not letting it happen.”

“Ain’t nobody about to clown your man. …I mean I didn’t know you liked light skinned men but-

“See you’re already clowning him.”

He shook his head, “No, I was just joking. Seriously, tell me I want to know.”

She rolled her eyes, “Well if you must know, we met at a conference in Arizona.”

“So he’s in business?”

“No, tech actually. He was at the conference networking. At the time he was trying to startup this app, Nozzle. It’s a app that-

“I know about Nozzle.” Erik actually knew Nozzle pretty well seeing as he had invested some money in the startup a while back trying to get his portfolio up.

However, he didn’t remember seeing David’s name in the business plan. “So, he’s still working with Nozzle then?”

“Nah, they ousted him. He had a completely different vision than the other two men and they decided to part ways amicably. He’s actually working on a festival idea, kind of like a black Coachella but not like Afropunk or anything. That’s why he’s not here right now. He had a meeting to attend with some investors.”

Erik couldn’t help but smirk, “A festival?”

“Don’t even-“

“I bet its going to be lit. …Straight…Fyre.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore.” She looked out of the window folding her arms again.

“Wait, wait. I’m just kidding.” He pulled one of her arms down, so she wouldn’t close up on him again. “Seriously though, he does know a new festival right now, it’s not the move.”

She sighed, “It’s legit though and he has a good plan for it. Nothing too extravagant. I’ve been working it out with him, setting up meetings for him.”

“Setting up meetings for him? You a secretary now?”

“Nah, I’m a good girlfriend. Why shouldn’t I help him if I can?”

Erik looked at her and then shrugged, “I mean, I guess. But…just don’t put none of your money in it.” When she didn’t say anything, he sighed. “How much?”

It was her turn to rub the back of her neck, “Uh…just 50,000 dollars.”

“50,000 dollars?”

“We got a loan, so he could have the capital to start moving stuff and showing investors he wasn’t coming in empty handed.”

“Oh my god, Y/n. The whole reason you get investors is so that you don’t have to get loans like that or at least so you can pay off the damn loan. How much has he paid off.”

“10,000.”

“Oh my godddd.” Erik wanted to die. He wanted to strangle Y/n, in the most loving way, for being so stupid and then he wanted to kill David. “He’s fucking scamming you and probably everyone else he’s talked to. Why did he get ousted from Nozzle?”

“I told you because they had different visions-“

“Nah, that’s what that nigga told you.” He pulled out his phone. “Send me a picture of him.”

“Why?” Erik rolled his eyes and tried hard not to snap at her, “Don’t argue with me right now. Send me a picture.” When she pulled out her phone he sighed.

“This nigga is running your name into the ground and you probably don’t even know it.”

“He’s legit Erik.” The airdrop notification came up on his phone and he accepted it, getting a fairly clear picture of David.

“We’ll see.” He pulled up an app that allowed him to search FBI databases, search engines, wanted ads, and many more places by picture and name.

“What’s his name?”

“David Johnson.” She had moved closer trying to see what he was doing on his phone. “Are you doing a background check on him?”

“Nah, but you should have.” He hit search and the app began trying to match David’s photo and name to anything they could.

“I can’t believe this. You’re so fucking smart, Y/n. You graduated summa cum lade and you’re nearly running that firm you’re at. I can’t believe that you can’t smell a scammer from a mile away.”

“How do you know all of that?”

Before he could answer his phone dinged, he smirked pressing the article that came up. David Johnson was Gregory Malcolm, the man who was caught misappropriating funds from Nozzle. Who was still wanted by authorities in California, New York, and Georgia.

“Is David’s middle name Joanne?” He started looking down at the picture of David being escorted out of a building in handcuffs.

“No…why?”

“Cause your man’s a fucking scammer.”

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(author’s note: just

and I hope that this part was not a total let down.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @halonahoney @scumyeol @fangirlingbookworm1 @elaindeereads @groovybbyyy @holy-minseok @ljstraightnochaser @chefjessypooh @sweet-epiphany85 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @tiava143

@chaneajoyyy @ raysunshine78 fuckmegoodbruhh ghostfacekill-monger mellifluousbabe browngirldominion

(i probably didn’t tag half the people that wanted to be tagged. sorry about that!)

#erik stevens x reader #killmonger x reader #erik x reader #Erik Stevens #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfic #erik x black reader

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a-woman-apart · 4 years

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Separating the Boys from the Men

Yes, that title is click bait, and if you keep reading, you’ve been warned. I’ve got a lot to get off my chest, and it’s going to involve defending masculinity, femininity, and our right to BEHAVE LIKE CHILDREN FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES because in many ways, we already do.

Let’s get straight to the point. As Millennials, regardless of our age, financial status, or level of “success” (air quotes 100% intentional) we have been accused of being lazy, entitled, and way too enthusiastic about avocado toast. At the same time, we have been described as having enough power to decimate the napkin industry, the diamond industry, and the concept of traditional marriage. We have been accused of a collective “Peter Pan” syndrome, because we “refuse” to cut off papa’s apron strings and get off the proverbial mama’s teats.

Wonderful to know.

Let’s unpack the “lazy” bit. Supposedly, this is tied to the fact that we have access to higher education, we [often, not always] have parents who financially support or house us well into adulthood.

So now, my question is, Gen X (the entitled ones, ironically) and Salty Boomers, YOU DIDN’T?

What do you call that “inheritance” you received? What do you call that education your parents paid for that was less than 1/3 what we have to pay? For Boomers, how do you explain the lavish weddings, cheap [and apparently nuke proof] home appliances, and “nights out on the town” that you were able to afford by working at whatever passed for a McDonald’s back in the day? Working on a farm, at a grocery store, or in retail used to ACTUALLY provide a livable wage; for us, those are a “side hustle” and we still have to get a “big boy job” that usually requires an education that can put us over $100,000 in debt by age 30.

Hate to say it, but if you hadn’t made most of your income “during the War” or in the absolute economic boom that followed it, you wouldn’t survive 24 hours in our shoes before having an emotional collapse.

Despite the disastrous living conditions of the U.S. in the 21st Century, not much has changed in how men define their level of “manliness.”

Financial gains (stocks, bonds, portfolio, bank account)

Bro “gains” (a.k.a. “gym gains”, how “Gaston” they are, including whether they want to go for the Adonis, Apollo, or Brawny boi look, or just how far they can throw something or how “boyish” they look if strength isn’t an option and they suffer from femme-levels of body dysmorphia)

Body count (since we’re in a time of peace and not literally war, this is LITERALLY a modern term describing how many people you’ve slept with, and I have never heard an adult man, regardless of sexual orientation, who isn’t a little concerned about putting those notches in the bed post, and if not that, VERY concerned about his bedroom performance: it’s quality vs. quantity)

Kill death Ratio (I know this is a video game term now, but did you know that before video games, men in England used to regularly get on horseback, get a bunch of hounds together, and chase down tiny foxes and rabbits? FOR FUN?!?!? Did you know, that before modern sports ((including Esports)), men used to just fight to the death, regularly, even if an official war wasn’t going on? It was known as “dueling”, and in less socially developed societies, men still behave like this. So the next time you complain about “male rage” and how heartless it is to make live chickens fight, note that even though we’ve quelled male anger and hostility on some level, you will NEVER be able to take away man’s urge to destroy. Boys and men will always like knocking things over, building things from the rubble, and ruling shit. It’s what they do-- and we women can and do, too, but we have a LOT more risk-aversion and self-preservation, which is a blessing and a curse for our species-- but we just need to make sure humanity as a whole stays...chill)

So what, say ye, has changed about how WOMEN define themselves now vs. in the past. I would say that very little has changed, but the level of internalized misogyny, insecurity, and good-old fashioned denial has SKYROCKETED.

Let’s look at some terms of how the majority of women value themselves.

Financial Security (few women will admit to “wanting to be rich”, because that sounds kind of “Trump”, but plenty will talk about having minimum income requirements for their partner(s), wanting to retire at a young age so they can “travel the world”, wanting to eliminate their debts, etc. It’s different language but essentially it translates to: I want to work so hard or marry into so much wealth that I never want to worry about money after age 35. #Hustle)

Looks (it doesn’t matter if you want a Kardashian butt, you’re in the body positivity movement, or you just want to “dress like a bawse” women are just as obsessed with clothes, image, and body weight/shape/size as they ever were, it is just that now that we’ve “slain the patriarchy” we have more fashion options than ever before, because “boy clothes” are just as “in” as femme ones)

Ability to attract a partner (some women, like me, “chase”, but thanks to biology, most women, regardless of sexual orientation, seem to enjoy being pursued more than being Artemis-style hunters. This is evidenced by the fact that when the feminist owner of Bumble changed the rules of the dating website to where women had to start conversations with men rather than vice versa ((a move that had ostensibly zero effect on lesbian matching)) 72% of women that she later surveyed stated that they liked it better when men were approaching them rather than the other way around. I am sure Bumble’s female CEO was shook ((as was I)), especially because she made the change to empower women, and apparently 72% of women didn’t want the power because it meant they now had the power to face rejection, and it made them uncomfortable. Big yikes. So much for #EndPatriarchy and #ChivalryisDead ?)

Playing house (this is probably going to get me some unfollows, but I’ll take my chances. Women, regardless of sexual orientation, often seem to be REALLY into having babies or just “playing house.” There’s also men like this, too, “Family men” as they’re aptly called, men in love with fatherhood ((or just being called “daddy”, and that will never not be weird)). So many women who never want to pop out a baby describe being taken by an OVERWHELMING urge to fuck during their “fertile window” ((or is that just me?)) and seeing every baby alive as the cutest human being ever once we pass the tender age of 25. The biological clock is REAL, and I learned the hard way that being bisexual and having immense fear of pregnancy and childbirth didn’t spare me from the awful truth of my biology.

I really don’t want to keep making references to modern video games, but they seem to serve the dual purpose of being deeply satisfying and helping us to quell “problematic” urges, including that one to dominate and destroy the world. For a lot of women gamers, though, our choices ((on a broad scale, every #girlgamer is different)) deviate from men’s in some interesting ways.

#1: We still love The Sims Franchise way more than guys do

Not only do we love it, but while a lot of men (again, #notallmen) tend to build elaborate neighborhoods to extensively mod and destroy them in terrifying ways, I still see women gamers taking obscene amounts of time to design homes, raise happy little families, and cause TERRIFYING blood feuds by having Sims marry Sims from rival families ((I guess we’re more Shakespeare than we thought, eh ladies?))

#2: We make up most of mobile gaming

Most male gamers think mobile games “aren’t real” and I tend to agree, but a mobile game is invaluable for when I, a woman, have time to kill between the 3 jobs I hypothetically have and I and don’t want to whip out something like a Nintendo 2DS that is both unwieldly and attracts the eyes of every impoverished, thieving human being in a .5 mile radius. #RiskAversion. These games are often low-quality, mindless, and insanely easy, but that is WHY WE LIKE THEM. Our entire life is a job. #Hustle

#3 We also love farming sims and RPGs

While we-- and most male Millennials-- beg god to not have to birth calves, milk cows, or labor in the tomato fields under the hot sun, most of us have no objection to having our virtual avatars perform the same back-breaking tasks to the tune of cheerful chiptune music. Also, even though men definitely enjoy them, too, I have never met a woman gamer who didn’t enjoy a nice RPG; why do you think we’re such avid readers of fantasy/romance YA?

We want to be transported to a different world, and if you won’t take us there, we’re happy to go there virtually ((because we probably can’t afford travel; we’re still millennials)).

Ability to murder people who threaten our young or our partner(s) (Okay this one is a bit more complicated, but I’m just going to tell you a bit about female animals. DON’T MESS WITH THEIR BABIES IF YOU WANT TO LIVE. Human females, are, in that regard, just as savage, if not more so, than our male counterparts.

I’ve never heard of any woman ((outside of prison, maybe)) who killed another woman for “looking at her weird” or saying “your mama” too many times. I’ve heard plenty of women threaten literal murder because another woman ((or man, we’re #progressive)) came too close to her romantic/sexual partner, or another human being threatened harm on our kids or our “squad.”

I don’t know where the meme truly originated from, but “Don’t talk to me or my son ever again” is SUCH a Mom thing to say. So much misandry is wrapped up in the idea that men are predators, and that is true, but not in the excessively sexually deviant ways you think ((that’s only sometimes true)). They just like hunting things, including people, but if you give them a toy to play with ((I MEAN ACTUAL TOY OMG)) they seem alright. Let them go play with their cars, Xbox, [insert whatever] or something. They’re men, okay, they’re easily distracted/impressed/occupied.

Women, on the other hand, have seemed to be having an EXTREME amount of trouble curbing that baby-making urge, or the Excessive Nurturing Urge, that one that makes you ask your grown husband if he’s remembered to pack lunch for work or if he remembered to pack money for his playdate with his bros, because he’s gonna need money at Six Flags and you aren’t going to bring it to him because he should’ve remembered, you reminded him 30093390 times.

THAT’S NOT HIS FAULT. HE HAS MANAGED BY SOME MIRACLE TO STAY ALIVE FOR 33 YEARS. THAT’S YOU, SWEETIE. STOP BEING SUCH A MOM. GO BE A NURSE, DOCTOR, OR SOCIAL WORKER OR SOMETHING OMG.

In summary...

What separates the “men from the boys” or the “women from the girls” isn’t the era that we were born in to, our economic status, or whether we’ve been able to “conquer” our biology. That’s definitely not possible yet, chiefly because transhumanism involves a lengthy, ethics-guided process, and even if we all turn into cyborgs, the goal is to become BETTER humans, not LESS humane. Societal advancements have done more in terms of making us healthier, less destructive citizens of planet earth than raw technology ever can and ever will. Rapid technological advancement, when not combined with respect for morality, ethical standards of living for humans and all other life forms, almost always leads to human slavery, widespread abuse of animals, sex trafficking, and environmental destruction, because the “rules of supply and demand”, when not governed by strong international trade laws, dictate that consumers should be supplied with whatever they demand, because the suppliers can profit, and their right to profit should be defended at any cost.

So, in summary, I believe that “adulting” involves giving up on entitlement. What separates a truly childish human being-- regardless of their actual age-- from someone who is, in essence, “adulting” is experience, and how much those experiences serve to broaden that person’s perspective. It is an extremely childish, self-centered view, to think that you “deserve” anything for being “a good person” or, in the case of many a “woman child” or “man child” in media and in real life, just being “not so bad.”

Grown-ups are able and willing to do something that is known as “delaying gratification” which is the simple ability to delay a temporary pleasure for a long-term gain. Grown-ups are also able to perform true “cost-benefit analyses” to determine if a course of action, business deal, or even relationship is worth their time and effort. Finally, grown-ups are able and willing and able to make an informed choice and stick to it; in essence, we don’t try to “have our cake and eat it too” we understand that once we’ve eaten that cake, the cake is gone, but we also realize that if we are willing to work hard and make sacrifices, we can earn the ingredients to make ourselves another cake to eat, even if we might need a lot of help from other adults in getting those ingredients (we call this teamwork and cooperation).

Children, on the other hand (in literal and metaphorical terms), are very impatient. They get angry when things don’t go their way, and instead of taking the steps needed to improve their situation, they storm off and return home. It doesn’t matter if their home is with their parents, with their 3 roommates, or with their husband or wife, these people throw tantrums, refuse to communicate/cooperate, and stew in their displeasure until someone feels sorry for them and fixes their problem for them. They lack the ability to work through daily life problems and refuse to take any responsibility for how their actions or inaction contributed to their dilemma.

There is one difference with an actual human child or teen, though, is that they have an excuse. Their brains are still developing, and they haven’t had the chance to live through these situations yet; these are new challenges to them. Even if they do have a “bad attitude”, with help from peers and patients, principled adult mentors and teachers, these cantankerous kids can grow into well-adjusted, able adults. The high levels of neuroplasticity in their brains actually make it so that it is easier for them to accept large amounts of sensory data and to learn from processing and practicing using it.

An “adult child” is someone who, more often than not, has been coddled instead of challenged. These people have often faced no significant hardships in life. There is a reason why, even after we have recognized the immense downsides of authoritarian parenting and have demonstrated psychological harms of corporal punishment for kids, we still call “bad kids” and “irresponsible adults” spoiled.

Authoritarianism produces rigid, scared people who often struggle with critical thinking and self-esteem or end up being authoritarian parents themselves, but that last one is actually one of the less likely options. Children of authoritarian parents often develop Borderline Personality Disorder or become defiant against authority (shocker). Overly permissive or overly neglectful parenting, though, are parental styles most associated with producing narcissists, who often become authoritarian parents, because when their kids challenge them, they completely lack the patience or emotional capacity to deal with it and resort to “because I said so”, stonewalling and/or physical abuse as forms of “character-building.”

The reason why overly permissive parents spoil their kids is because kids actually do need discipline and guidance, and so these kinds of parents produce kids who are outwardly capable and confident but completely lack any of the life skills to justify it, and when they ask their parents for advice they are just met with a bunch of hippie mumbo jumbo or told to just avoid the conflict rather than resolve it. These kids grow into adults who are still sad little kids inside, because they never grew up, but now they’re sad little kids who are articulate and well-spoken and now can-- and often have no choice-- but to con their way through adult life because they’ve maxed out Charisma and they have almost no points in Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom, or Dexterity.

The only parenting style worse than Authoritarian and Neglectful/Permissive is Mixed, in which a child grows up in a COMPLETELY unpredictable environment where the rules of the game change from day to day, and parents either give their children no attention at all, or they practically lock them up and throw away the key. Being raised like this is associated with the worse outcomes for the child throughout life.

So, why am I now talking about parenting styles? Because, for all that we love to trash Boomers and large swaths of Gen X on this page, we can’t forget where they came from, so we cannot allow them to forget WHO THEY MADE. It isn’t an accident that even though we live in the times of incredible economic hardship, WE are the generation (and Gen Z, to some extent) that got hooked on reality TV, video games, and social media in incredibly unhealthy ways. A lot of us 30+ millennials are growing out of it, and a lot of us have realized that it is an invaluable (and damn near unavoidable) way of marketing our products and talents. We’re often self-employed because that’s our only option in most cases.

The issue with Gen Z (who, while we called “Zoomers” now just all themselves “Doomers” and I think we should be a bit concerned about that) is that unlike us, they have no memory of “Before the Internet.” We remember dial up, we remember before that when you played outside untl the sun went down. They don’t have the privilege of being linked to that history.

Now, we have to be the Bigger Person. It’s our time to be Grown-Ups. Gen Z feels really fucking lost right now, and hearing us whine about our parents probably makes them pretty pissed off, when some of us older millennials are the parents, aunts/uncles, and older siblings to Gen Z kids. Even if we can’t be mentors, we have to lead by example, because we have a responsibility to these kids. A lot of them aren’t stupid, they see exactly what’s happening and they feel incredibly hopeless about it. Greta Thunberg is still 16 years old. She shouldn’t be out there doing that; I mean seriously, climate change is accelerating, but it isn’t even as bad as Al Gore said, it’s still reversible, but the fact that SHE FELT SHE HAD TO makes us shitty people. ALL OF US.

So you know, we all need to stop being hypocrites. We need to stop being entitled. We need to stop thinking this is about us. It isn’t. Not even close. We’re not important, even if our videos go viral or if we’re swimming in cash next to hot models by a huge swimming pool. America’s fucked up. I hate to sound Republican, but it’s because of our values. We suck at valuing what’s important, and if we don’t change that soon, it’s really going to suck to live in America.

It already does.

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loopyhoopywrites · 4 years

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How Does A Hermit Accidentally Get Published? (A TLD excerpt)

Okay so this is kinda long, and minorly spoilery? But if anyone is interested in how The Hermits’ Guide to Friendship (Vol 1-4) came to be, I just finished typing up it’s origin story. For context, Cedrix and Tim have just been escorted to a private VIP booth at Ye Olde Nightclub by CJ Themir, the author of the guides, who is begging them to help him.

Tag list: @kryskakikomi @shattered-starrs @ifonlyicouldwrite @sybil-writes @raevenlywrites @sunlight-and-starskies @notwritinganyflufftoday @chauceryfairytales @writeblrfantasy @dazed-night-lights

* * * * *

Of all the critiques one could accurately make regarding Prince Cedrix, an unwillingness to help his subjects would not be one of them. Quite the opposite, in fact. Cedrix was, to the despair of his diplomatic advisers, extremely hands on when it came to sorting his kingdom’s problems.

(Rescuing damsels was, perhaps, the only exception to Cedrix’s willingness. Given, however, his sexuality, the lack of male damsels, and the strange cultural expectation that a Rescue equated to a proposal of marriage, this was understandable.)

Despite his willingness, Cedrix looked at CJ, with his fans, fame and, presumably, fortune, and found himself with one question.

“What could someone like you possibly need help with?”

Tim, it turned out, also had a question.

“What happened to your accent?”

CJ sighed, running a hand through his hair. Unlike his previous suave swoop, this time the gesture was a clear sign of stress, turning his artfully arranged curls from a masterful oil painting into something more akin to a child let loose with twelve fingers and a bucketful of muddy paint.

“It’s a long story.” He said, deftly managing to answer and evade both questions simultaneously.

“We have time.” Said Cedrix.

“Okay.”

CJ ran his other hand through his hair. It didn’t help.

“Okay,” He said again, “I’ll- I guess I’ll start at the beginning?”

“That is how most stories start.”

Cedrix crossed his arms impatiently. Tim, always eager for story time, swapped his empty tankard for a new one and snuggled into Cedrix’s side. CJ was twisting his hands nervously, and his left leg was bouncing as if possessed by a particularly hyperactive jackalope. Coupled with the way his eyes darted nervously around the balcony, Cedrix wondered CJ should be the one with a tankard in hand.

“Beginning,” CJ finally repeated, looking Cedrix in the eye only to immediately glance away again, “Well, um, my name isn’t actually CJ.”

As far as beginnings went, this one was hardly a surprise. Cedrix crossed his arms tighter, hoping the story improved. Quickly.

“My name… it’s Daigo. Daigo Ramirez.”

Here, CJ paused, the silence lingering a moment too long, and then a moment longer.

“Sorry,” He said eventually, smiling sheepishly, “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to say that.”

Unsympathetic, Cedrix merely fixed him with a glare that clearly meant get on with it. Tim slurped his drink through a brightly coloured curly straw that hadn’t been there when he started.

“I am – well, I used to be – a hermit,” CJ – Daigo – began, “People have always been a bit… much, for me.” He smiled wryly, as if amused by some private joke. Cedrix snuck a glance at Tim, suspecting that the wizard would be far more sympathetic than Cedrix himself. Tim, however, didn’t seem to be listening, instead busy attempting to balance the cherry from his drink on the tip of his nose. It was only when Daigo cleared his throat that Cedrix realised he’d been staring.

“Continue.” He ordered, dragging his attention back to the author.

“I lived in a rented room above an antiques shop,” Daigo seemed to shift more comfortably into his chair as he settled into his story, although his leg still jiggled distractedly, “It was about as close to solitude as I could afford, given the high demand for isolated towers and caves amongst royalty these days. The store’s owner would leave groceries outside the door once a week, and in return I left rent money under the unwelcome mat. I never had to leave, and no one ever came to visit. Even the store below hardly ever had customers.”

Cedrix couldn’t help but wonder how using the privy fit into this self-isolation situation, but he was far too proper to ask.

“The room I lived in had one window,” Daigo continued, “That looked out over the beer garden of a local tavern. In the summer months, between my daily meditations, I found myself in the habit of watching the patrons who sat out there. Not in an inappropriate way, of course!”

Realising how his penultimate sentence might have sounded, Daigo raised his panicked eyes. Cedrix looked back with impatient indifference. Tim was still struggling with his balancing act.

“I started, um, making notes,” Daigo hesitantly continued, acutely aware that this was not helping his ‘not a creep’ argument, “I wasn’t – I’m not – interested in actually interacting with people myself, you understand, but watching people interact was – is – intriguing to me. I supposed it turned into a sort of… research project.”

“Research project?”

“Um hm.” Daigo agreed, his nervous hands easing from a jerk into a mere twitch as he hit his stride, “I ordered some books, ending up with quite the extensive library, and when I’d learnt all I could from those I began to talk to people.

“Not directly,” He quickly clarified, “But I cultivated a decent number of quill-pals who provided valuable insight into the field of social interactions. It turned into quite the thesis.”

“Am I to assume that this rather lengthy attempt at an explanation is the Guide’s origin story?” Cedrix asked.

“I- well, yes.” Daigo responded, his fidgeting returning with a vengeance as he avoided Cedrix’s gaze, “Only, I didn’t mean to get published.”

“It seems to have worked out fairly well for you.”

“Well!?” Daigo exclaimed, momentarily forgetting just who he was speaking to, “You have to be joking!?”

Cedrix just gave him The Look.

“Sorry,” Daigo’s cheeks quickly turned a rather unflattering shade of horrified pink as he realised he’d just yelled at royalty, “It’s just, all this-” He waved toward the edge of the balcony, where they could just make out his crowd of admirers below them, “-is the last thing I wanted. I hate it.”

“Why did you publish The Guide then?”

“It was sort of… an accident.”

“How does one publish four books by accident?”

“Five if you count the autobiography.” Daigo reluctantly corrected. He caught sight of the copy of From Cave to Rave that Tim had repurposed into a placemat and shuddered. “Here’s the thing. As part of my research, I was writing to a great many people-”

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“-Which meant I was sending a lot of mail. It was agreed that I would leave it outside my door along with the gold pieces needed to cover postage, and my landlord would drop it off at the postman’s guild for me.”

“So?”

“I, um, accidentally left my thesis with my outgoing mail.”

“And it got delivered.” Cedrix surmised.

“I don’t know how!” Daigo stammered, letting out the type of laugh that people only ever laughed if it was a choice between that or crying, “It didn’t have an address on it. It wasn’t even in an envelope!”

Daigo’s leg was now bouncing so fast it was almost a blur, and Cedrix had the sudden bizarre image of it becoming detached and flying across the room.

“Next thing I knew, publishers were practically breaking down my door.” Daigo said, so stressed by the mere idea that beads of sweat were starting to gather in little committees on his forehead. Cedrix would have offered him a handkerchief, but given that Tim had given up on balancing his cherry and was now onto his third cocktail, he had a feeling it might come in handy later on.

“You still had to have given permission.” He pointed out instead.

“They, um,” And here, Daigo looked almost guilty, “Offered me money.”

No almost about it, that was definitely guilt. Cedrix neglected to comment, instead choosing a far more effective rebuttal that he’d long ago picked up from his stalwart knight; the Raised Eyebrow of Disapproval.

“It’s sort of hard to earn money as a hermit,” Diago said, his immediate jump to excuses proving once again the effectiveness of the Eyebrow, “Plus, they said it would be a one time thing! Rewrite a few sections, sign a piece of paper, get paid. They never mentioned all… this!”

Once again, Daigo waved an arm in an attempt to encompass his fame, fortune, and what could almost be considered an army of fans, his face plastered with unbridled horror and despair. Cedrix sighed.

“This piece of paper,” He said, putting the pieces together and creating an all too common portfolio of the utter stupidity of the average commoner, “Am I to assume it was, in face, a contract?”

“…Maybe.”

“And did you, perhaps, happen to read this contract before you signed your name at the bottom of it?”

Daigo’s silence was answer enough, but Cedrix was still going to make him say it.

“Pardon?”

“I skimmed it.”

“I see.” Cedrix said, pursing his lips in thinly disguised disapproval. Luckily for Daigo, Cedrix had never been in possession of anything even close to a generous amount of patience, and he wasn’t about to waste what little he had left on a lecture on the importance of reading the terms and conditions.

“And CJ?”

“My publishers wanted to prove that the advice outlined in my books worked,” Daigo sighed, “And that meant I had to be their first success story. They created this persona for me. It was only supposed to be for a week or so, whilst they advertised The Guide, but, well, my books proved more popular than previously anticipated.”

“An effective marketing technique.” Cedrix couldn’t help but comment. He leant back in his seat, fixing Daigo with a cultivated stare of indifference.

“So,” He asked, finally returning to his original question “What do you expect me to do about it?”

For the first time, Daigo didn’t look away. Instead he leant forward, meeting Cedrix’s gaze with a confidence nobody would have imagined he could have possessed, and Cedrix was suddenly certain that he was about to regret asking.

“I want you to help me fake my death.”

#tld #tld:excerpt #wip excerpt

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memoirsofamessybitch · 4 years

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In My Mind Part 7

Joe x Fem Reader

Warning; Strong Language/Fluff

The gap between 6 & 7 wasn’t as big as 5 & 6 and THAT is an achievment we can all get behind!

Enjoy!

Prologue Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

“I'm not an easy person to be around, In fact I sometimes don't even like being around me” after a long silence I finally spoke. I didn’t want to give him any kind of delusion or illusion. The truth.

“I just don't see that Y/N....not in the slightest. You've been the highlight of my days on set, I know I may seem like 100% all the time but I struggle. Big time. God I just wanna...” He looked at me longingly. I bit my lip and sighed with my whole body.

“Do you like insert favourite food?” I wanted to avoid any more speeches that would lead to touching. Mostly because I was naked under my robe and...I didn't want to start something that;

one: I wouldn't be able to stop myself from finishing and

two: I think would ruin this if rushed into too fast.

“I fucking love it” Of course he did, this man was perfect!

I sniffed once more and dabbed my nose with the sleeve of my robe and noticed that he was fidgeting a little, then he spoke. “Are we doing like first date questions because I was totally going to actually take...”

“This is the first date stupid....make yourself at home, I'll order in and make myself less... naked” I touched his shoulder, signalling him to step aside so I could go get changed. As I brushed past him, his hand tickled my own and I felt my stomach knot up. I kept walking and changed into the cutest “comfy” clothes I had. When I returned I noticed Joe flicking through my portfolio. I always kept it on the coffee table. It's a great conversation starter.

“You worked on Star Wars?” I nodded and exhaled remembering the most stressful 3 months of my life. I slumped down next to him and pointed to generic alien I spent hours getting into makeup.

“Yeah I wasn't called back for The Last Jedi, but this paid off a lot for me, this got me some of my best gigs...and worst” I looked off, my brain almost forgetting Joe was sitting next to me.

“Okay scale of one to ten....how much do you hate this film we're working on” Joe smirked nudging me with my portfolio. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“I ain't saying shit, I know you're friends with the director...” I giggled like a child and covered my face. “Let's not talk about work....that's more like second date vibes. This is the part when you ask me about my childhood, what I like, what I don't like....you know date stuff”

“You really wanna do the generic first date questions...okay...lets do this” I kicked my feet up on the couch and got myself comfortable as we engaged in deep conversation. He told me about his family, his love for films. How many bones he has broken, his first kiss with “Sam Neil” which after him showing me a YouTube clip from Jurassic Park to refresh my memory caused a roar of laughter.

I brushed over my past very hazily. I focused mostly on my post College years. Rather than before. I thought Joe struggled to read the room, especially when it came to me, but he could tell I wasn't overly comfortable talking about anything earlier than that. And that just made me adore him even more.

I showed him photos of me and my friends, asked him about his. We played never have I never while eating dinner by my half melted candelabra I fished out from my broom closet. For ambiance of course. We drank only a little wine. I wanted to keep this as PG as possible. And of course Joe respected that. He even helped me clean up and heat up some hot water for some late night cups of tea.

“I can't believe you've NEVER yelled at a crew member, I do it on the daily” I leaned across the back of my couch and watched him busy around my kitchen area.

“I know you do, but I believe I certainly wouldn't have a job without the efforts of a crew. We are all as important as one another, even the interns you cuss out constantly” I covered my face in slight embarrassment.

“Ugh why are you so pure and wise, quit making me feel bad...how dare you” he chuckled and stirred our tea's one at a time. The slight clinking of my china cups drowning out my shame.

“When you've been in the business as long as I have, and worked with some of the people I have....you grow to have nothing but respect for an entire film crew. I know you respect them, just might not like them” I threw myself back on the couch and groaned.

“STOP” I looked up at my ceiling as I listened for Joe's footsteps back into the living area. He stood above me with the tea and shook his head.

“Never” he replied to me in the most over the top villain voice he could muster. He put the cups down, so I sat up and let him back into his seat. I went to sit back in my original position but he took me by the shoulders gently and eased me down so my head and shoulders were resting on his lap. I looked up at him with a genuine look of wonder in my eyes. Okay, surely i was asleep in the tub...this couldn’t be happening...so I opened my fat mouth.

“Serious question”

“Oh god” Joe replied with a slight chortle to it.

“Once the film is over....” My brain immediately went back to how it was thinking before. Joe's hand covered my mouth softly. I knew what was coming next.

“I understand you're still feeling a little nervous about this....trust me Y/N. I'm sticking around” His hand moved and revealed my smile of relief. Then his hand moved to play with my hair. Next thing I was snoring gently in his lap.

*******

My eyes strained from the morning sun coming through my living room windows. My neck was stiff as was my back. I was on my couch with an arm lying heavy across my body. I felt someone breathing on the back of my neck. I grew even more ridged as I remembered last night.

Jesus, Joe and I must have fell asleep on the couch together. My very uncomfortable couch. I tried to sit up but Joe groaned half asleep still and held me tighter.

“Joe...Jooooe” I whispered gently shaking his arm. His hand gripped my waist tightly as I continued to call him and shake him.

“What” He groaned. Perhaps he was much more comfortable than I was.

“Um...morning” I said in the sweetest voice I could get from my croaky throat first thing in the AM. I wiggled around awkwardly to face him as his eyes were slightly open.

“Hey” he whispered sleepily with a cute little smirk on his lips.

“Didn't have this in mind last night did you at all?” He shook his head in response and began to rub my back. His eyes opened more as his hand trailed down lower and lower. I didn't stop him, I maybe should have but the mornings always had me feeling a certain way. His hand stopped at my ass and squeezed gently. I smirked and lent in to kiss him. He didn't pull away so I guess he was game, even if it was just some early morning groping.

My free hand rested on his waist as our kiss became a little more repetitive and a little more intense. Eventually I found myself on my back and Joe leaning above me resting his head on his right hand and his left hand running across my collar bone and down my chest. He looked at me with sleepy wanting eyes. I looked back at him with a similar look. The left hand kept travelling to the waist band of my sweats and then under them.

“Just tell me if you're not....”

“ssshh” I put my finger against his lips. As Joe's hand slipped deeper into my sweatpants, my heart was beating loud enough to hear above and below us.

However a sudden series of vibrations coming from Joe's crotch caused us both to jump in surprise. He instantly took his hand from the inside of my sweat pants and rummaged around his own pants pocket for his cell. I rolled my eyes and then rolled off the couch carefully onto the floor.

“Uh what time are we due on set” Joe asked shakily.

“7 am” I groaned back at him rubbing my eyes.

“Well its 9am and I have 12...now 13 missed calls from the stage manager”

“Fucking FUCK” I scrambled to my feet and rushed into my bedroom to change.

“You wanna ride in with me” Joe shouted through my closed bedroom door. I stopped hurriedly putting on my jeans to contemplate the offer for a moment. Would save me an ear ache if I went in with Joe....but then....I wasn't keen on everyone knowing about Joe and I. And gossip on the lot spreads faster than the flu.

“Um...maybe not...” I opened the door and looked at him disconcerted. He nodded.

“I totally get it, I don't wanna like put any pressure on you....”

“I just don't want anything to ruin this....I like....us” I groaned once more and rubbed my lower back. Note to self, get a new couch.

“I like us too kiddo. Okay but let me take you out tonight...I owe you for last night” The loving beam that came from him made what awaited me at work worth it. I got a good look at him in that moment. His hair full and fluffy mess. His half smile was enough to give me butterflies for the rest of the week let alone the day. His t-shirt half tucked in his pants. I could get used to seeing him in the mornings like this.

“What for shitty take-out and a lumpy couch” I snickered, I really knew how to show people a good time.

“And?? I loved every second of it” He winked at me. I very visibly blushed. Joe met me at my bedroom door way and planted a very gentle but warm kiss on my cheek.

“I'll see you on set”

“Okay” I exhaled through my words and watched him walk out. I stood a little dumbfounded for a moment. Unable to continue getting ready. Am I dreaming...or am I delusional. Everything felt a little too perfect. I heard my phone go off in my jacket pocket, it hung behind my bedroom door. I rummaged for it and answered straight away knowing what befell me as soon as I did.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU....YOU ALREADY ON THIN FUCKING ICE” I didn't even care. I couldn't stop smiling.

Please let this work...please let him be different....please let this be something

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello fan fiction #joe mazzello fan fic #joe mazzello fluff

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violetsystems · 4 years

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#personal

If there were ever a silver lining to anything these days, it’s that I am also qualified to work at IKEA. In Shanghai. You guessed it. Cybersecurity. I do like to rearrange my crappy furniture every once in a week. But between rotating the kitchen table a precise ninety degrees for more elbow space, I’ve been feeding the algorithms like hungry plants. Sometimes they are monstrous. Someone on Amazon reviews had targeted me over a skin care product. You had to click a layer deep. A metallurgist from New York who was a professor at a major university. His reviews of fiction were endless of Grant and the civil war. You could put two and two together. And a week or so later the algorithms did. They suggested in an email blast every fucking work of importance about said Grant and the confederacy. Needless to say, I’m not really a fan of such perspectives. But awash in all this is my own personal data which governments refer to as PII henceforth my shitty Magnum jokes. We here in America love this thing you call freedom. But most of our data is not free. In fact, it is harvested, manipulated and spat back at us in a condescending way. Depending on the algorithm of course. Machine learning could be good for humanity. If it actually paired datasets together that were mutually beneficial to one and other. We humans do this when we connect communities together in a diverse and democratic way. There is a power to that. Of course, there are people who can’t profit off of people thinking and working for themselves. And thus, here in America we don’t have the same protections as Europe with laws like GDPR. I hear American diplomats chant all the time about how setting foot in mainland China is a blow to your privacy. All I experienced was a Big Mac at Pudong airport. When I was on Instagram and Facebook it felt like a waking nightmare. As if algorithms were interacting with GPS data to lure people together. This was the after effect of Pokemon Go in real life. A product that was funded partially by government money for not so obvious purposes. Social Engineering is an equal opportunity employer I guess. For better or for worse. These days there’s no shortage of human operators out there trying to sniff for clues. Looking for a job in the midst of all of it is frustrating enough. Knowing the balance between networking, ghost accounts, and maintaining the professionalism in between. I have never known who is interacting with me online and why sometimes. I have clues. I can guess but is that psychologically healthy in the long term for a person. It can be deeper than catfishing. Whole entire friendships shrouded by fake names. I stick to the ones I can visualize without a migraine. And the narratives that might support it out of hiding. Like commuting to Shanghai for a job for a range of companies. Or waiting around for the rest of my previous employer’s obligations to me to settle.

If you ever wanted to look at someone who is totally and utterly mindfucked but exceedingly okay with it all it is me. And the value of that is still to be determined. I wake up some days and wonder why I haven’t hurt myself or done worse. I quit drinking almost four years ago. I cleared all of my credit card debt which sits at zero to this day. My credit score is above eight hundred. I paid my rent. Nobody bothers me much. I am alone all the time except when I go for groceries. I sleep alone with my cat on my shoulder. People interact with me in the most bizarre fashion. I feel empty and ghostlike. And yet there’s these small windows of hope. I haven’t applied for anything else. I think sometimes you have to put your name out there and see what it means to people. The algorithms thought I was a good fit. There are other things it seems to think I am a good fit for. Friday night the algorithms pelted my notifications for the first time in awhile for jobs here in Chicago. And they were bleak. I felt more empty. I felt overwhelmed by the fact through reaching out I have seen no closure or solace. When I do connect with people from my past on that platform it’s mostly professional. Like a note of encouragement but no real desire to go deeper. You feel like a leper. And this isn’t the first time. I’m starting to realize I’ve felt isolated and exiled for longer than this entire pandemic. I feel used and manipulated over and over and through and through. And yet I also have this very thin layer of understanding with the rest of the world. One that I couldn’t really escape if I tried. One that I really have no idea what the outcome is. But it’s something I had to try. You throw a rock across the pond and it lands with a splash. And people start connecting two and two together. What happens? To me nothing. It was such a far throw to reach you. I’ve been throwing rocks for years. Missing every time. And then you just nail it. And people aren’t looking. It’s frustrating. You know it landed. And yet you know nothing. Maybe it needed to landed in the pond a little further to the left. Maybe IKEA furniture was blocking the way. Maybe it dropped into somebody’s Prada bag. The general point is this. I’m in your area. And in some ways you are in mine. I don’t know what the answer is. I don’t think it’s mine to solve. Unless it has something to do with keeping the internet safe. And this community has always felt true to that for me. Everyone I’ve ever shared these ideas and desires with has held a silent respect and knowing. And we’re more than just machines grinding out data in a callous way. We are people trying to connect to real emotions and dreams. And in some ways, I’ve found that people here actually help each other emotionally. Which is why it is such a torture to look for a job at the mercy of social networking that treats you like a dataset and not a loving, caring human being.

I am beyond hurt in my life. It feels both hard and easy to say. I have experienced the most soul crushing ego death no one could ask for. And I live with it silently like a beast inside me. Nobody gives a real fuck about me in real life. Nobody has ever given me a hug. Nobody has ever reached out to touch me and ask if I was okay. And somehow people on the internet have. For years. Silently layered on top of this casual and fragile society we live in. A complex network of people who trust each other and care in their own way. A respect for privacy, space and dreams. These are the things I was sworn to protect even if nobody ever gave a fuck. I did not want to fail the people who inspired me. And yet I am a complete failure. I am worth absolutely nothing to people other than to compare or constrast themselves and their stock portfolios to. I am a mirror in a house of broken dreams. A fractured idea of what could be if someone would just piece me the fuck back together. And the algorithms try I believe. And they shove data in front of my face I don’t want to see. They push and pull me apart and I’m expected to ride the pink wave off into the sunset. When each day I feel more and more like garbage. This is what is to be expected. I’m supposed to throw it all away. And yet I’m also supposed to wait for people to get their shit together. The last two months I was abandoned in the most hateful and spiteful way. I don’t know if that’s what the intention was. But my feelings are beyond existential. The hope I cling onto is weighted by things holding me back. And the indecision with people to trust I am somebody. I have never felt like somebody. I have felt invisible, hopeless, and dried up. And always there’s this breath of that one day I will be discovered. I will be taken off the bench and treated like someone special. And it never comes. I grow older. My life becomes more complex. The things that keep me alive and the decisions I make are in a complete psychological vacuum. This is self reliance. This is being an adult. And yet I am completely alone in this process. It makes me cry. It makes me angry. It makes me sit here and want to scream. But here in space. The personal space. The intimate private space we all share. Nobody wants to see me break down. Especially you. And if you didn’t know by now, now you do. I will keep throwing that rock until somebody catches it and asks why. Because I have no other choice but to send the message. I care. I have always cared. Whether that means anything to anyone is the real mystery. I don’t know that it does. I hope. But hope does nothing. You have to try. And you will fail. You know me best at that. How many times I have failed. It’s highly probable I’ll succeed one day. By myself or other wise. <3 Tim

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sobokip257 · 4 years

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The Most ideal Approach to Pick up Wedding Photography

In the course of the most recent year, I've invested a lot of energy endeavoring to gain proficiency with the art of best wedding photography. In spite of the fact that, I actually have a long way to go, I can ideally talk as a matter of fact (positive and negative the same) of how to jump on the correct way as a wedding picture taker.

1) Increase an Intrigue

In case you're perusing this article, there's an entirely decent possibility that you have just arrived at this stage. Maybe you're keen on wedding photography due to the procuring potential, or possibly you simply love weddings and need to record them.

In any case, wedding photography is a creature like no other and truly requires some various methodologies. One wedding picture taker I worked with disclosed to me his preferred thing about wedding photography is that it consolidated so a wide range of sorts of photography: full scale (think rings), engineering (excellent places of worship), and even a touch of sports - envision catching a quick moving couple.

Discover wedding picture takers whose work motivates you. There are many skilled wedding picture takers, and motivation is rarely far away. Investing energy realizing what you like and how to introduce a scene is basic in building up a style. Wedding photography is an exceptional field, and it's not hard to immediately get excited in its realm.

2) Begin Helping

Have individuals shot weddings before helping an expert? Sure. Would I suggest it? Not in the slightest degree. On the off chance that you can bounce into shooting weddings all alone, you are unquestionably more gifted than I am. For me, I wasn't even happy with endeavoring it.

The main thing I did was to begin systems administration and discovering picture takers in my general vicinity. My first thought was to send messages to neighborhood wedding picture takers requesting to help or second shoot. The vast majority of these went unreturned.

Second shooting permits you to become familiar with the intricate details of weddings without the entirety of the weight.

Notwithstanding, with enough constancy I started to get standard work structure neighborhood pro's. Getting on as a subsequent shooter was one of my preferred encounters - I got the opportunity to go with various picture takers and to shoot some stunning weddings. The picture takers I got the chance to shoot with had many years of experience and truly comprehended their art. Considering their work and their techniques was the best thing I could possibly do to realize what it took to shoot weddings.

Being a decent collaborator or second shooter will keep work coming your direction. Recollect that when you're functioning as a second, your main responsibility is to supplement crafted by the essential picture taker. Avoid their shots, and shoot from integral (not indistinguishable) edges. One great methodology is to utilize focal points of an alternate central length; if the essential is shooting a fax, adopt a wide calculated strategy to the circumstance. Getting two takes on a circumstance is incredible for the essential since it will permit them to convey more pictures to the customer.

In particular, you do the things that they request that you do, without posing a great deal of inquiries. Attempt to remain one stride in front of them and think about their needs. I've functioned as both a second and an essential picture taker on weddings, and when I'm the essential, I have such a great amount of going on that an associate who deals with little assignments is such a gift.

When beginning, you aren't destined to be paid or redressed. You probably won't have the option to utilize the pictures in your portfolio; it relies upon the conditions of the agreement you're working under. Ensure that you get these things recorded as a hard copy and comprehend what the essential picture taker's desires for you are. Nonetheless, in spite of the way that you won't get by second going for the initial barely any months, the information that you gain is a tremendous interest in your ability.

3) Build up a Business

More so than maybe some other kind of photography, learning the matter of wedding photography is basic to your prosperity. The business has a huge measure of turnover, and a ton of this is because of newness to the stuff to maintain a business.

In the event that you don't care for gets, this isn't the correct business for you. Agreements set desires for an occupation and secure the two players. Exploration the agreements that picture takers use. There are models that are promptly accessible with some looking. Consider holding an attorney to guarantee that your agreement is hermetically sealed. Numerous picture takers additionally convey risk protection, just as protection that shields gear from being taken or harmed at work.

Decide the correct plan of action for you. Will you sell prints? Circles with computerized documents? Collections? These require exploration and imagined that stretch out a long ways past the extent of this article.

At long last, deciding how to advertise your business might be the best test that you face. There are no mysteries, only a great deal of work that must be placed into building a brand that individuals perceive and know. Find powerful approaches to publicize. Consider the way that there are both free (verbal) and paid promoting choices. I am a major adherent that the best promoting is fulfilled customers.

4) Exploration and Pick the Correct Apparatus

Numerous picture takers wrongly reduce the nature of work to high dollar camera bodies and costly focal points. You have presumably heard at this point that rigging isn't everything with regards to being a decent picture taker.

In any case, the opposite side of the coin is that better apparatus is an immense favorable position in a photography. Wedding photography is no exemption. A portion of the circumstances you will wind up in may put a ton of strain on passage level apparatus. Houses of worship can extend between sufficiently bright and counterfeit caverns. It's circumstances such as those that you will require the correct rigging to catch the wedding appropriately.

For me, there are two basic pieces of my wedding pack: a camera body with great high ISO execution, and quick primes. My go-to focal points are primes between f/1.4 and f/2. These permit me to shoot weddings in my style and guarantee that I can catch enough light.

A body with extraordinary high ISO execution can spare you when you're in the most obscure of settings. A glimmer is additionally significant, albeit numerous temples don't take into consideration utilization of blaze during a function. Regardless of whether it is permitted, you may find that your customers and their visitors would want to not seeing a glimmer spring up at regular intervals.

Camera gear with great high ISO execution and quick primes make low light shots conceivable.

Try not to disregard the significance of getting some more, quick focal points. During the function, you may find that you are further away than you had foreseen. Contingent on the customer's solicitations and church arrangements, you might be positioned in an overhang or in a side of the congregation. I have as of late got the Standard 135L, which is a 135mm f/2 focal point that will be extraordinary for these occasions. My own conviction is that picture takers shouldn't be an interruption during the function, so I'm frequently in covertness mode during this time.

Ensure you get enough memory cards to cover the day. Everybody's needs will vary, yet with a 21 megapixel camera, I keep a few dozen gigabytes worth of memory. The exact opposite thing that you need to happen is to fill your cards during the function and have nothing left for the gathering.

Additionally, don't set out shoot a wedding without reinforcement gear. This implies reinforcement memory cards, batteries, and most powerfully, a reinforcement camera body. This can get costly, yet recollect Murphy's Law: what can turn out badly, will turn out badly. What will you tell your customers if your camera quits working? Pick a reinforcement camera that you can change to reasonably consistently from your essential body if need be. The best methodology is to utilize two of a similar camera, yet this isn't monetarily doable for some individuals.

5) Make a Check Rundown: Planning is Everything

I think individuals tend to consider weddings one bound together kind of occasion. In all actuality across different strict and social fringes, weddings are profoundly various encounters. Moreover, the couple has endless choices that no two weddings are ever the equivalent. Accordingly, your encounters will fluctuate fiercely from end of the week to end of the week.

I imagine that the most disregarded ability is realizing how to interface with your customers and set them straight. Abilities like these are learned distinctly with training and time

In the event that there was one thing that helped me improve my outcomes drastically during the primary year, it was to truly plunk down with my couples and figure out their wedding. Thusly, you can set the desires for the afternoon, map out the progression of occasions, and ensure that their needs are met. Keep in mind, you are in the matter of giving client support. Upbeat customers mean more business.

6) Improve your Altering Abilities

In the year 2011, the advanced work process is a significant piece of practically every picture taker's business. Wedding photography has a few requests that are explicit to click here.

#best wedding photograph

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the-dan-sargent · 4 years

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Moffle Phillips is a Normal Human: Part I

By Dan Sargent

This semester I took a creative writing class, and began writing a story about one of my characters, Moffle the Alien, for the final assignment. I wanted to share it, so I decided to drop it on here! Hope you enjoy, and feedback is highly appreciated!!

Story synopsis:

Raised as a human, Moffle the alien was taught to always put his best foot forward and act as “normal” as possible (by human standards, at least). This includes hiding his more “alien” behaviors and keeping his true form a deep secret. Ashamed of what he truly looks like, Moffle has always had to act and look completely different from who he truly is. But what happens when Moffle ends up getting close to one of his classmates, Mars? Join Moffle on his journey through opening up to others and learning that there’s no better person to be than yourself.

Part I under the cut!

“Hello there, it is very nice to meet you! My name is Moffle, and I am currently having a panic attack in my bedroom. Don’t worry! This kind of thing is normal for me, I have these on quite the regular basis. If you’re wondering why my brain is imploding on itself this time, it is because I made a grave mistake today. I ruined my life completely and can now never show my face to anyone ever again. It all began this afternoon, after my very first day at my new school, Red Valley High.

Being an alien from another planet, I’ve never really gotten the chance to meet many human beings throughout my life. Before high school I had always been homeschooled, and as a result had never gotten close to anyone outside of my family. I’ve had a few friends, mostly from the internet or from space camp, but I’ve never really been very close with anyone. For as long as I can remember, I have dreamed of living alongside humans and going to an actual school. And now I finally had the chance to really do it!

My day started off very well. I got out of bed after hardly getting a lick of sleep, put on my human form (and first-day outfit), ate breakfast, and left for school. Most humans would walk or take the bus to school, but I just flew there instead. Yes, you heard me right. I’ve got flying powers, and they’re very convenient. I’m technically not supposed to be using them, but as long as I’m invisible whenever I’m flying I should be in the clear, right? That’s how I see it, at least. That being said, please don’t tell my mom that I’ve been flying in public. Once I got to school, I made my way to the principal’s office, where I was given my class schedule and sent off on my merry way.

I made it to my homeroom with little difficulty, and once I was seated I looked down at my schedule. At the very top of the page was my name, Moffle Phillips, followed by my year, freshman. I barely paid any mind to the piece of paper as I practically vibrated in excitement out of my seat. I was finally among a whole lot of kids my age, and it felt so right. This was where I belonged. Or, at least, that’s what I kept telling myself over and over. Sure, I was an alien. In that way, I was quite different from all of the people who were surrounding me. That might have led to me standing out a bit, like how I stood out a bit everywhere else I went. But that didn’t matter. I was in my human form, and I was still a fourteen-year-old kid, just like practically everyone else in the classroom (excluding the teacher, of course). As long as I looked and acted like a normal kid, everything would be smooth sailing. It was going to be a piece of cake, since trying to blend in with humans was something I’d been doing all my life. Sitting in silence, I tried to convince my brain that high school was, without a doubt, the place for me. After a few more minutes of doodling and twiddling my thumbs, homeroom was over and I was ready to make my way to my next location.

As it so happened, my first class of the day was astronomy! As someone who is as passionate about space as I am, of course I leapt at the chance to take a space-themed class. My entire life, I’ve always found everything about space to be extremely cool and very interesting. I couldn’t resist taking an class on my favorite thing. Plus, it would give me the opportunity to talk about space with a bunch of other people equally fascinated by it!

I got to class and sat next to the first friendly-looking face I saw. I grinned widely at him and introduced myself. Giving me a friendly smile, he told me his name was Parker. I then talked to Parker about space, about stars, about other planets, other galaxies; and finally, about aliens. I was so happy to be talking about space, that I didn’t even notice that class was beginning until I saw the teacher, and all of my classmates, angrily glaring at me. I turned to Parker and saw that even he was giving me a deadpan expression that told me I had rambled on too much. Let’s just say, that was a little embarrassing. However, before my brain could be hit by a wave of regret, the lesson began, and I instantly forgot my embarrassment. Let’s just say, listening to people talk about space for forty-five minutes straight was dreamier than I could ever imagine!

From then on out, the rest of my day was just as magical. As I went from class to class, everything was going extremely well. Not only was I able to observe humans up close all day, but I was even getting a few opportunities to introduce myself and talk to them! Before today, the only other humans I had interacted with were my family and my friends at space camp. But now that I was in human school, I could talk to a whole bunch of people every single day! It was the most thrilling experience of my whole life!

At the end of my perfect first day of school, I got my belongings together and found a restroom to go invisible in. I slipped into a stall, sat on the toilet, and took a breather to take in the day. I had done it. I had survived my first day of school. And it was awesome! I no longer had any doubts on whether or not I fit in. Not only did I fit in, but a lot of the people I met seemed like they thought I was cool! It felt so good, and at that point I felt absolutely certain that Red Valley high was where I belonged. After sitting for a bit, grinning wildly, joyously screaming into my backpack, and collecting myself, I was all set to fly home. I took a moment to go invisible, and then flew over the stall door toward the restroom’s exit.

It was then that I immediately messed up everything I had worked so hard for.

I swung the door open to leave, and then instantaneously--while invisible--crashed into a girl who was about to enter the restroom. I would have completely fallen on top of her, too, if I hadn’t used my flying powers to save me at the last minute. Hovering mere inches above her, I turned to face the girl, still invisible, and saw that she had very clearly been crying. Her thick glasses were hastily placed atop her head and there were streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. Her phone had fallen on the ground beside her, and upon accidentally glancing at its screen I noticed she had been in a call with her mother. I wanted to help her up. I wanted to ask her what was the matter. But I couldn’t, not without completely revealing who I was. So I didn’t. Instead, I darted back a few feet before flying away in fear. It felt as if everyone’s eyes were burning into me as I bolted out of the building. I only hope that I managed to stay invisible while all of that happened, or else I’d be in real trouble.

And that’s how I almost ruined everything I had worked so hard to earn. Great first day, am I right? In fact, it reminds me of another incident that happened a couple of years ago during my first summer at space camp.”

Click here to read Part II!

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#creative writing #writing #author #writer #story #fiction #alien #space #new kid #first day of school #superpowers #fitting in #standing out #fiction writer #writing exercise

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Not Nineteen Forever (4) (Branjie/Scyvie)- Ortega

a/n: i am absolutely hanging out my arse so editing and re-reading this chapter made me feel vaguely ill. i’ll pass it off as method acting xo thank you so much for the continued love and support for this fic, the fact that each chapter so far has broken 100 notes makes me piss my pants with excitement (watch now i’ve jinkxed it and this one’ll get like 8). in this installment Scarlet finds it hard to believe that she isn’t Victoria Beckham.

Trigger Warnings: explicit drug use, alcohol. unaaay.

Summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree

***

Scarlet had to admit, she was enjoying the high life. As she sat up the back of the lecture theatre in the new fur coat she wasn’t planning on taking off anytime soon, blinking heavily with her £75 lash extensions, drumming her £50 acrylics against her notepad, she smiled to herself. This was definitely the kind of life she was suited to. Okay, she got a bit of a shock when the rent left her bank account, as well as her gas and electricity bills, but she still had a good amount there. Clenching her stomach, Scarlet thought about the number on her banking app. £3713.65. Slightly giddy, she pressed her lips together as she thought about it. How could she have spent over a thousand pounds in the space of two weeks? She thought through it in her mind. Rent, £550. Electricity, £30 split with Ra’Jah. Gas, £25, also split with Ra’Jah. But that only came to what…just under six hundred pounds? There was still so much unaccounted for. Scarlet thought about how much she’d paid for on nights out, the two shopping trips she’d been on since her scratchcard win, and the many, many Ubers she’d taken pretty much everywhere. It was time to reign the spending in.

It was crazy how much confidence it was giving her, though. Even on the group chat Scarlet felt self-assured enough to throw out barbs every so often, the girls all responding with keyboard smashes and capitalised laughter and giving her a boost of serotonin. It had even made her feel more confident around Yvie. Scarlet felt weird about the whole Yvie thing. Now that she’d realised she liked her, she didn’t really know what to do about it. She knew she would do something, she promised herself, as if she ended up in a situation like Vanjie’s she would scream. Scarlet cast a glance to the girl beside her, frantically typing notes into her laptop and listening intently. Bored, Scarlet took her fluffy-topped pen and wrote on her notepad, pushing it Vanjie’s way.

Lunch after this?

She watched as Vanjie looked down at her writing, looked back up, then nodded once. Scarlet smiled, glad that she had something to look forward to. It had been a while since she’d had a catchup with Vanjie, and part of her was excited to see if there had been any progress made between her and Brooke. Scarlet then realised it was a little selfish of her to think that way and, realising she hadn’t confided in anyone about her crush on Yvie yet, she decided she’d let Vanjie in on her secret.

When the lecture finished up they decided they would go for lunch at the Mexican place in town. It was a slightly longer walk than anywhere on campus but Vanjie was good company, chatting away happily about something funny her Mum had done back home and distracting Scarlet from the cold weather. They eventually reached the restaurant and got sat at a table, despite the fact Scarlet could have stood under the heaters that were blasting by the entrance forever. She watched as Vanjie shrugged her huge coat off then leant forward.

“So, how’s your lovely flatmate?” Vanjie asked, Scarlet letting out a snort and rolling her eyes.

“Our oven’s broken. She’s saying I broke it,” she explained, Vanessa tilting her head with intrigue.

“Why? What did you do?”

“I don’t know. Used it to cook food,” Scarlet said, her laugh giving away her monotone voice and causing Vanjie to giggle too. “It’s exhausting living with her! She just hates me for no reason! I swear she’s going to turn up by my bed in the middle of the night with a knife and her pillow to smother me with.”

“But then she’d have no-one to blame for the shit that goes wrong in the flat.”

“True. If I’m ever found murdered, though, you know who it was,” Scarlet raised her eyebrows knowingly, Vanessa having to stop herself from laughing as a waitress arrived at their table and took their drinks orders. Vanessa ordered a Corona and Scarlet almost joined her, then realised that beer on a lunch break when she still had a lecture in the afternoon was risky. She got a blood orange San Pellegrino instead. As the waitress walked away, Scarlet continued. “How’s Silky and Akeria? I’ve not seen them since last Saturday.”

“They’re good. Akeria’s stressing about Masters applications, even though I keep telling her every uni is gonna be fallin’ over themselves to accept her. Silk is fine. She’s always fine. I think she’s made peace with the fact she’s probably going to get a 2:2.”

“Nothing wrong with a 2:2,” Scarlet shrugged, even though she knew that if she was on course for a 2:2 she’d be crying as if her life was over.

“That’s true. Degree’s a degree. Still gon’ cry like a baby if I don’t get a 2:1 though,” Vanessa frowned, brightening up as the waitress returned and put their drinks in front of them.

“You will,” Scarlet said. It hadn’t been a lie- even though she only saw Vanessa working towards part of her PPE degree, she always seemed on the ball with lecture notes, got good grades in her essays, and you could never shut her up in tutorials. The other girl still narrowed her eyes at her as she took a drink.

“You have to say that, though. You’re my friend,” Vanessa said, Scarlet brightening up at the validation of her friendship. She’d never known if Vanessa had liked her at first, but over the years they’d eventually settled into being comfortable with each other. Vanessa sighed. “I worked out that if I want a 2:1 I need to get above 65% in everything until the end of the year.”

“That’s doable!” Scarlet insisted, pouring her can into the glass in front of her. She frowned and shook her head. “Anyway, let’s not worry any more about uni. How’s Brooke Lynn?”

Vanessa slid down in her seat and covered her face with the menu. “I don’t know, bitch, ask her.”

“You know what I mean! How are things going? Any progress?”

Vanessa screwed up her face. “I mean, I don’t know. Kind of? Maybe? It’s so hard to tell with that bitch.”

“What’s the maybe?”

“So last Monday we went for a drink after we went to the library. We were just talkin’ and somehow…I don’t even know how we got onto this topic…we started talkin’ about how we were…y'know, like in bed.”

Scarlet let out a screech. “OH my God. Amazing. How is that a maybe in any way?!”

“Nah, well, you know,” Vanessa smiled bashfully, fanning herself with the menu which neither of them had so much as glanced at. “It started to get deep and then I did my classic ha ha ha what a big joke this is I’m definitely not takin’ this serious in any way thing I always do with her. I think I made it awkward, ‘cuz I’ve not seen her since then. I mean we’ve talked on the chat but…yeah.”

Scarlet pouted, feeling sorry for her friend. “Oh, Vanj, no. It won’t be that at all. You know her and Plastique have got their portfolios due next week, she’ll just be busy!”

Vanessa bit her lip, then smiled slowly. “How about if I organise a lil somethin’ to take her mind off her work, then?”

Scarlet took a sip of her drink. “You’re going to turn up to her flat wearing nothing but a massive bow playing The Stripper through your phone speaker.”

As Vanessa howled, Scarlet realised a little too late that someone had come to take their order. She asked for five more minutes, neither of them having looked at the menu yet and having only used it as a prop for embarrassment.

“No, bitch,” Vanessa wheezed, finally getting her breath back. “Let’s see if we can get her to come out tonight.”

Scarlet felt her brows pulling together involuntarily. “On a Wednesday? She’ll be too responsible.”

Vanessa sighed and gave the menu a cursory glance. “Couldn’t we at least try? I just need to know if I’ve made things awkward so I can go about trying to fix them. Although how the fuck I’d do that, I don’t know.”

“I guess you could put it on the chat?” Scarlet shrugged.

Gleefully, Vanessa bounced about in her chair and grabbed her phone decisively, immediately typing. She put it back face-down on the table almost as quickly as she’d picked it up. “It’s sent. Although now we’re running the risk of everyone being free apart from Brooke Lynn, and if I’m honest I really don’t have the energy to go out otherwise.”

“We’re getting old,” Scarlet shrugged, her eyes scanning over tostadas, taquitos and empanadas without really being able to focus on any of them. “Do you remember the days when you could manage two nights out back to back?”

“I remember the days I could manage two nights out in one night,” Vanessa laughed, running a hand through her hair and exhaling. “Scarlet, why am I nervous? Tell me why I’m nervous.”

“Because you’ve just orchestrated a night out with our whole friendship group just so you can see one member of it. Instead of, you know. Asking her on a date,” Scarlet smiled teasingly, Vanessa laughing in self-depreciation. It occured to Scarlet that she still hadn’t told Vanessa about Yvie. “That reminds me-”

Just then she was cut off as the waitress appeared again at their table. Scarlet couldn’t bear to send her away again so she quickly ordered some fish tacos and some sort of cheesy beany quesadilla she had no idea the other ingredients of. Vanessa rapidly fired off an order for a pulled chicken burrito and pork taquitos which, Scarlet could glean from a quick glance at the menu, seemed to be served with radioactive levels of spice. As the waitress walked away, Scarlet frowned.

“Are those taquitos not really spicy?”

“Meh. I don’t mind spice. Worst case scenario I’ll have to install scaffolding round my ass for the next three days after I eat ‘em,” Vanessa shrugged and then leaned forward, hardly giving time for Scarlet to laugh at what she’d just said. “You said ‘that reminds me’ after we were talkin’ about dates, what’s up with that?”

“Oh uh, nothing,” Scarlet smiled shyly as she picked at a bit of dripped candle wax on the tabletop. “Just that I’m joining you in the crushing-on-my-best-friend club for the foreseeable future.”

Vanessa’s face lit up. “What is this?!”

Scarlet felt cheeks flush red as she said it. “I…think I have a crush on Yvie.”

Vanessa let out a quick screech of delight, drawing the gaze of a dining couple sitting at the opposite side of the room. Hushing herself, she leant close to Scarlet and continued. “Oh my God! Bitch! I love this. This is amazing. Aw, you’d be so cute together! I knew you were touchy with each other but I always thought that was just how your friendship was.”

“It is how our friendship is!” Scarlet protested, then put her head in her hands to cover her cheeks as she smiled. “I just…realised I like being touchy with her a little too much to be friendly.”

“Oh, I got it. You wanna be touchy with her in a different way,” Vanessa winked suggestively, Scarlet squealing in mortification and both the girls ending up howling with laughter. As the laughter died down, Vanessa smiled. “Well, welcome to the world of crushing on a friend, boo. It’s amazing, electric, and largely horrific. And painful. I’m not selling this well.”

“It sounds slightly sadomasochistic.”

“That’s actually what you get if you Google it,” Vanessa nodded faux-seriously, then put on a funny, posh-sounding voice. “If you liked getting shocked by a disused electrical socket twenty-five times in a row, perhaps you’d like: crushing on your best friend!”

Scarlet laughed, then shot a glance down at her phone as it sat face-down on the table. “I’m kinda hoping Yvie comes out tonight too now.”

“Ooh! We should check the chat,” Vanessa said, pouncing on her phone and her face dropping as she looked. Scarlet opened her own to see what had been said.

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: me n Scarlet wanna go out tonight who’s down

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: BITCH ARE U CRAZY WE AINT FRESHERS ANY MORE

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: I GOTTA DATE WITH BRADLEY WALSH AND WHOEVER THE CHASER IS TODAY

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Girl we all know The Chase starts at 5pm you gotta think of a better excuse

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Sorry boo I’m out

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: BITCH BACK TO BACK EPS ON CHALLENGE TV FROM 7 THANK U NEXT

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Need to be at the library early if I wanna get that 1st

Kim Kardashian-West: Placement :((((((( sorry babyyy

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: I’ll see yall at pres though

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: I’m guessing they’re gonna be at ours

Okay Then: Sorry girls our portfolios are due in like 9 days

Okay Then: big celebrations after though!!

Dave the Laugh: i’d actually be down

Scarlet felt guilty as her heart gave a jump, Vanessa sitting dejectedly across from her. “Hey, chin up! She’s not replied yet.”

“If Plastique is sayin’ no, she’ll be a no too,” she jerked her mouth to the side in a pained attempt at a smile. “Your girl’s down though, that’s good!”

“Stop. She’s not my girl.”

“Yet,” Vanessa smiled, a glint of disappointment still present in her eyes. Just then, Scarlet’s phone lit up in her hand.

mose: I’m going to follow the tradition of my entire university career making poor life choices and say yeah I’d be up for a night out

Scarlet looked with anticipation across to Vanessa, whose eyes were wide with excitement. She didn’t seem to know that she had a beaming smile on her face, and Scarlet couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, happy for the girl opposite her. “See? Good news!”

“Oh my God. It’s gonna be me, you, Yvie and Brooke Lynn. Fuckin’ double date night out,” Vanessa’s eyes scrunched up as she laughed happily. Scarlet felt her pulse start racing, nerves taking hold of her already. She was excited, though, for some time with Yvie in a slightly smaller setting. She hadn’t grabbed a coffee or done anything with just her in a while, and even though this wasn’t the ideal setting, it was still an opportunity. Vanessa was back typing quickly into her phone, and Scarlet watched the group chat progress.

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: yall suck apart from Yvie and BrookeLynn

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: come to mine for 9 then bitches! Xoxoxoxo

Mose: See ya then boo

Scarlet turned over her phone and raised an eyebrow at Vanessa. “You’re her boo.”

“Yeah fuck y’all bitches, I’m Brooke Lynn’s lil’ ghost,” she smiled and gave her hands a quick clap together in excitement, Scarlet spluttering a laugh at her friend’s adorable reaction. Just then, their food arrived and got placed down in front of them.

“Oh hey, can I grab another Corona?” Vanessa asked, holding up her empty one. The waitress took it and nodded, and Vanessa gave Scarlet a guilty look. “I should really head to the library after this but I’mma go back home and nap, then spend the next four hours gettin’ ready. Fuck, I don’t even know how I’m gonna afford goin’ out tonight.”

Scarlet took a bite of a taco, then thought. Lunch was only going to come to about forty-ish pounds altogether, and really, what was that out of her winnings? She swallowed, looked to Vanessa, and smiled.

“Hey. I’ll get us lunch,” she shrugged, shifting a little in her seat as Vanessa blinked at her.

“Serious? No, Scarlet, I can’t let you do that.”

“Honestly! My loan came in early,” she said, looking down at her plate as she lied. “Think of it as a celebratory, double-date-crush-night-out-whatever-the-fuck-this-is treat. And you can buy me a drink or something when we go out, call it even.”

As a waiter came by and placed another bottle in front of Vanessa, she gave a smile and raised it. “To coming out on the other side of tonight with girlfriends?”

Scarlet smiled as she clinked her glass against Vanessa’s beer. “Let’s not push it.”

The rest of her lunch with Vanessa passed by comfortably, Scarlet paying the bill when they were finished without a second thought and the girls saying goodbye with a hug and an excited squeal in anticipation of later on. Part of Scarlet wanted to head straight to the shops to look for something new to wear but she stopped herself, instead getting in an Uber and going back to the flat, the prospect of her returning to campus for her 3pm lecture growing thin. Turning the keys in her front door, she sighed when she heard loud music coming from Ra’Jah’s room. Scarlet had hoped she’d be out by now. Walking through to the living room to dump her shoes, coat and bag, she paused when she saw something on the messy, cluttered coffee table that she was sure hadn’t been there before.

It was a tiny, clear, plastic ziploc bag filled full of a white powder. Scarlet frowned as she picked it up, transferring the bag between her fingers and watching as the powder inside crumbled and broke up, the same sort of consistency as flour although slightly looser and whiter. The realisation of what she was holding suddenly hit her like a bus, nearly making her drop the bag. She stood silent for a couple of minutes, completely unsure of what to do. Then she heard the music in Ra’Jah’s room get turned up and that seemed to make her decision for her.

Storming back through into the hallway, Scarlet banged on her flatmate’s door. “Ra’Jah!”

The music got cut off and there was an eerie buzz of silence in the flat. The door in front of Scarlet swung open to reveal her flatmate, her face unimpressed. “Yes?”

Scarlet held up the bag, hoping it would elicit some emotion out of the other girl. It did not. “Can you not leave that shit lying around our flat?”

Ra’Jah smiled in amusement, showing a set of slightly uneven teeth. Scarlet felt her top lip curl up in a sneer. Ra'Jah wasn’t able to pull them off, not like Yvie with the cute gap she had between her front teeth. Fuck, was she really thinking of Yvie right now? Ra’Jah leant on the doorframe cockily. “What, a girl ain’t never seen cocaine before?”

“Of course I’ve seen it,” Scarlet lied, gripping the bag tight between her fingers. “I just don’t want the flat looking like a fucking crack den. I mean it’s not a potted plant, Ra’Jah, it’s a fucking class A drug. It’s not decorative.”

“Class A, ooh,” Ra’Jah mimicked mockingly, irritation washing over Scarlet. “Don’t shit yourself, bitch, it’s fine. I only put it down for, like, two seconds anyway. Just give it and I’ll put it somewhere safe.”

Scarlet went to pass it back to her, but something held her back. She looked at the powder again and a flash of thoughts flew through her head, of skinny, glamorous models and nightclub toilets and champagne. It was an illegal drug, and everything Scarlet had been brought up to believe told her it was fucking disgusting, and dangerous, and led to a spiral of addiction and debt. But still part of her was so insatiably curious, like she was addicted without even having tried it yet. She watched Ra’Jah’s expression change as Scarlet curled her fingers back. “Where’d you get it?”

“What is this, twenty fuckin’ questions?” her flatmate snapped back, rolling her eyes. “Just give me my narcotics, bitch.”

“Can I, um. I’ll buy it off you?” Scarlet stumbled out, causing Ra’Jah to look at her in disbelief.

“You want to buy cocaine?” she raised an eyebrow at her, speaking through a slight laugh. Scarlet’s hackles were up.

“Or give me the number of your dealer.”

Ra’Jah let out a small snort, shrugging her shoulders. “Ain’t any need to involve anyone else. Alright, that’s a gram. Give me sixty and it’s a deal.”

Scarlet felt her eyes widen involuntarily, Ra’Jah chuckling in response. “Girl, what did you think it was gonna be? Naomi Campbell snorts this shit for a reason, people use rolled up hundred dollar bills to snort this shit for a reason. It ain’t fuckin’ Cabbage Patch kids weed we talkin’ ‘bout here.”

Scarlet frowned and took out her phone, opening up her banking app. Just before she transferred the money, she looked at her flatmate suspiciously. Ra’Jah rolled her eyes.

“Look, I’m not taking you for a ride. I got it for fifty, a bitch wants to make a profit. Sixty is standard in some places. Others you’d be talkin’ seventy. Google it if you don’t believe me.”

“No, I believe you,” Scarlet simply said, hitting a button and just like that, sixty pounds flew out of her account. A nervous heartbeat felt entirely too fast and too loud in her body. Another hundred pounds gone.

“Thanks, bitch. This was great fun, maybe I’ll drop out and become a dealer,” Ra’Jah laughed, Scarlet saying nothing in reply as the door swung shut in her face. The bag seemed to make her right hand tingle, and a surge of nervous excitement shot through Scarlet like propane.

She got ready for the night ahead in a sort of daze, as the panic and the gravity of what she’d actually done began to sink in. She’d just bought a gram of cocaine for a night out. What the hell was she planning on doing with it? There was no way she’d be able to actually do any. Or was there? That was what Scarlet had always said about weed and now her and Yvie got high together all the time. Her pulse thrummed at her wrists when she thought about the other girl. Scarlet imagined bringing the small bag out in a toilet cubicle with her, watching her eyes grow wide, imagined her thinking holy shit, I never knew Scarlet was this type of girl at all. Imagined them both cutting it up with Scarlet’s bank card and snorting it, then hitting their high on the dancefloor, turning to her and letting Yvie lean in and kiss her in a haze of euphoria and lust.

Scarlet felt a throb of heat pulse between her legs, her doubts gone. This was a good decision.

Scarlet showed up to Vanessa’s flat only running a tiny bit late, ready with a bottle of vodka the size of her head and a couple of mixers in case any of the girls wanted to share. She got buzzed in quickly and was welcomed into the flat by Akeria who was looking a far cry from her usually-glamorous self, her hair piled on top of her head in a towel and a pair of pink flannel pyjamas on. Scarlet was shown through to their kitchen where she found Vanessa, Brooke and Yvie all sitting on the sofa or on chairs beside Silky who was also in her pyjamas and, just as she’d promised on the chat, was watching The Chase. The girls gave a small cry of delight as Scarlet walked in, Scarlet not missing the way Vanessa was sat on Brooke Lynn’s lap. Part of her prickled with jealousy, wishing that her and Yvie were in their place, but she didn’t mind too much. She was happy for Vanessa. Scarlet grabbed a glass, took a chair to sit in, and began pouring a drink as the girls continued to watch the TV.

“Low offer of minus four thousand pounds, high offer, please?”

“Fifty-one thousand pounds.”

“We’re watching The Chase,” Vanessa explained to Scarlet.

“I gathered.”

“If he takes the minus offer, I’m gonna reach through the TV and stab him,” Brooke said seriously, her face displeased.

“Nah, he’s gonna stick in the middle. I trust Nigel, 52, from Stockport,” Yvie drawled, taking a sip of her drink then smiling at Scarlet from her position on the chair beside her, reaching across and squeezing her hand. “Hey, girl, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” she smiled shyly, giving Yvie’s hand a small squeeze back and admiring her crushed-velvet red dress. “You look good.”

Yvie momentarily looked as if she was about to say something cute in response when her eyes were suddenly ripped from Scarlet’s and back to the screen as the girls groaned loudly.

“He’s a fucking TRAITOR,” Silky yelled, launching a cushion at the TV. “Sheila brought back forty-five thousand for this asshole to take from it? NO MA’AM!”

“Well this is the most lit pres I’ve ever been to,” Scarlet deadpanned.

“I hate this motherfuckin’ game show. Silk, turn this shit off,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, her flatmate loudly complaining.

“It’s my fuckin’ flat too, hoe!”

“Yeah, some of us actually have to do work tomorrow,” Akeria piped up from her position at the oven, checking on whatever she’d put inside. “How come you’re out tonight anyway?”

Scarlet caught Vanessa’s eye and she just stopped herself from smiling. “Oh, you know. Sometimes you just fancy going out.”

“It’s called being spontaneous, Kiki. You should try it,” Brooke joined in as she brought both hands up around Vanessa’s waist, the other girl giving a happy sigh and Scarlet staring at them, jealousy burning under her skin. As the other girls bickered, Yvie turned to face her again.

“Hey. You alright?” she asked, concern etched on her face and making Scarlet’s heart swell up.

“No, yeah, I’m good!” she smiled, blinking and trying not to come out with the truth of I’m insanely jealous of how close and cuddly Brooke and Vanessa are being right now and I wish Silky would get up off the sofa so we can join them. Satisfied with her answer, Yvie smiled.

“That’s good. No sad allowed at pres,” she joked, then tapped her gently on the nose. “Also you’re not allowed to be upset, you’re, like, my favourite person. Don’t tell the others.”

Scarlet felt something akin to a tidal wave flood over her whole body. Boosted, she gave Yvie a small wink. “I won’t. I promise.”

Something behind Yvie’s eyes seemed taken-aback, but not in a negative way. Almost as if she hadn’t expected Scarlet to come back with something so flirty so quickly, and Scarlet had to hide her smile behind her hand when she saw Yvie’s cheeks turn slightly pink.

Two hours later, all of Scarlet’s vodka had been drank and the four girls had managed to navigate a drunk Uber ride and entry into one of the fanciest clubs in the city. Usually none of them would have been able to afford the entry fee, but Scarlet had paid the ten pounds for each of them without batting an eyelid. She probably should have cared, but Scarlet had hit that stage where the alcohol had her convinced that life was wonderful, she was invincible, and she would be young and rich forever. She laughed as she cast her eye around the small circle the girls had formed on the dancefloor. Vanessa was dancing, frankly, like a stripper, and Brooke seemed to be living for it, her hands on the other girl’s waist protectively. Yvie was bouncing and flailing about, completely intoxicated, and yelling along to whatever song was playing- Scarlet didn’t know it, but she didn’t really need to. Turning to Yvie, she grabbed her hands and laughed. Yvie looked at her curiously.

“You look like those things…those car lot things…they go like this in the wind,” Scarlet explained, suddenly demonstrating to Yvie and throwing her hands in the air. Yvie buckled over with laughter, her hands on her knees, and Scarlet was so pleased she’d made her laugh.

“Bitch you started doing the floss to Miami 2 Ibiza, shut the fuck up,” Yvie snorted, Scarlet howling beside her. Casting her eye again to Brooke and Vanjie, an idea planted itself in Scarlet’s head.

“Yvie, watch me dance like Vanessa,” she commanded, suddenly feeling emboldened enough to throw her arms around Yvie’s neck and push her body up against hers. She ran her hands through the other girl’s hair messily, Yvie’s eyes half-lidded as she laughed gently at her.

“Girl…messing up my hair,” she muttered, Scarlet smiling back brazenly.

“It was messed up when you did it,” she smiled cheekily, tapping Yvie on the nose like she’d done to her earlier. Without giving her a chance to respond, Scarlet dropped down onto the floor in a move she hoped would make her look irresistible. Instead, she toppled over and ended up flat on her back against the sticky floor, the crowd parting around her like the Red Sea. She looked up to see Yvie laughing hysterically, holding both her hands out to her. Scarlet took them gratefully and she was pulled up, beside Yvie again only this time with just a fraction of the confidence. Yvie must have seen her pouting as Scarlet felt her strong arms being wrapped around her in a hug.

“Aw baby, I like your dancing the way it is,” she slurred into her ear, a tingle shooting down Scarlet’s spine at the proximity of Yvie’s lips to her skin. Scarlet was about to do something, say something, when she suddenly felt herself being wrenched away from Yvie and dancing beside Vanessa, who was gripping her arm. Scarlet was confused until Vanessa leaned in close to her and yelled above the music.

“I got an idea,” she said, her voice thick with alcohol. “Gonna make them both jealous.”

Scarlet’s eyes widened, an electric shock running through her veins as Vanessa pulled her close, then tilted her head up and kissed her. There was little to no hesitation and Scarlet felt herself kissing back, feeling the eyes of the other girls on them both. Vanessa kissed as if she’d known Scarlet’s lips her whole life, hot and passionate, and it briefly ran through Scarlet’s mind that Vanessa probably had a certain Canadian blonde on her mind as she was doing it. She desperately wanted to open her eyes, to look over to Yvie to see if she even cared. Show over, Vanessa pulled away, beaming and laughing, and Scarlet felt herself laugh back. In her drunk state, the situation was funny- the pair of them getting with each other to try to make their two other friends jealous. It appeared to have worked, certainly in Scarlet’s case, as Yvie took her hand and pulled her back, an odd sort of smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She shouted over the music at Scarlet, something that she couldn’t quite hear.

“What?”

Yvie raised her voice a little more. “I didn’t know you liked Vanessa like that!”

Scarlet laughed. “I don’t!”

Yvie gave her a funny look, a multitude of questions no doubt running around her head. Scarlet felt her confidence peak and she leaned in close to Yvie’s ear, Yvie’s arms snaking round her waist instinctively. “You jealous, girl?”

She felt Yvie’s body shake in a laugh Scarlet could tell was affected. “No…bitch.”

Scarlet leant her head on her shoulder and spoke against her neck. “Hey, 'f you’re lucky it might be you next time.”

She pressed a tiny kiss against Yvie’s skin and pulled away laughing, Yvie looking momentarily shaken then joining in with Scarlet’s laughter. Scarlet ran her tongue over her teeth. Fucking yes. Suddenly, she remembered the tiny bag she had in her bra. She caught the attention of the other girls and shouted over the music again. “Guys. Come pee with me.”

She began to make her way through the crowd to the toilets, hearing Vanessa and Yvie laugh at Brooke singing a parody of Come Fly With Me but replacing the word “fly” with “pee”. They eventually all managed to cram into a cubicle together, Scarlet counting her blessings that there was no toilet attendant on duty who would almost definitely have bundled them all out. The girls looked shocked as Scarlet turned around from locking the door and produced the bag from her bra.

“Is anyone down?” she asked lightly, Brooke letting out a nervous laugh beside her. Vanessa flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“What the fuck is that,” Yvie asked, her face set in a hesitant, concerned smile. Scarlet shrugged.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Vanessa spoke first with a blase shrug. “Yeah, bitch, let’s do it.”

Scarlet smiled happily, part of her quite surprised at how readily Vanessa agreed to the whole thing. Her eyes darted to Yvie, who was still looking at the bag cautiously. Obviously noticing her eyes on her, Yvie gave her a look that Scarlet couldn’t quite decipher, then screwed her face up. “So this is a thing we all do now?”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes at her. “Aw Jesus, Yvie, it’s one key in a club on a night out, we’re not all about to turn into fuckin’ junkies.”

Scarlet’s confidence had been given a knock. She hesitantly caught Yvie’s eye. “I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought-”

“No, girl, I’ll do some. ’M not a fucking pussy,” she frowned, taking a breath that seemed to be shaky and turning to Brooke, who was still looking with wide eyes at Scarlet. “Brooke, you doing this?”

It occurred to Scarlet that this was the first time she’d ever seen Brooke look anything other than completely sure of herself. She was laughing awkwardly, almost nervously. Scarlet watched as Vanessa put a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to, baby.”

“No, well, y'know me. Try anything once,” she slurred, leaning into Vanessa’s touch. “Okay, fuck, let’s do this shit.”

Scarlet moved to empty the bag out onto the toilet cistern, but Vanessa put out a hand to stop her. “Woah, girl, the fuck you doin’? Just take a key, ain’t no need for all that fuckin’ credit card shit.”

Scarlet frowned at her, confused in her drunken state. “Keys?”

Vanessa seemed to shrink back into herself as she saw all three girls looking at her intently, wondering how she knew so much about the process. Wordlessly, she gestured for the baggie and produced her keys from her gold clutch bag. She calmly opened the small plastic bag and fished into it with a single key, balancing some of the powder on the length of it. With a short glance up at the girls, she pressed a finger to one nostril and gave a quick, harsh sniff with the other. As quickly as it had appeared, the cocaine was gone. Vanessa rubbed quickly at her nose, sniffing awkwardly.

“Alright, who’s next?” she questioned. Scarlet could feel Yvie’s eyes on her.

“Well since Scarlet brought it, she should go next,” she said, something off to her tone and her stare that Scarlet couldn’t quite pinpoint. Scarlet shrugged stiffly, Vanessa reaching back into the bag with the key and holding some out for her. The butterflies in her stomach almost overwhelming, Scarlet leaned forward and mimicked what Vanessa had done. The first thing that she felt was the all-encompassing smell of petrol, followed by a horrific stinging at the back of her nose and mouth, Scarlet briefly being reminded of jumping into swimming pools when she was little and water shooting up her nose. She gave a cough and a big, follow-up sniff, Vanessa chuckling lightly.

Well, that just happened.

Nervously thrilled, Scarlet felt the butterflies in her stomach dissipate as she watched Vanessa hold a key out to Yvie. Yvie frowned and shook her head.

“Nah. Changed my mind. I’m out,” she said darkly, shooting Scarlet a glare that made her feel like a reprimanded child.

“Come on, Yvie, it’s fine,” Scarlet offered, the other girl scrunching up her face.

“No. It’s not happening. You guys have fun.”

Scarlet felt dejected. She wished she knew what she’d done wrong. Trying to push her feelings aside, Scarlet watched as Vanessa turned the key to Brooke. Brooke was looking from the key to the lock of the toilet stall, nervous. Vanessa reached up and touched a lock of her hair.

“You don’t have to, Brooky.”

“No, I will, I will. I’m just nervous. And excited,” she stammered out, Scarlet thinking she couldn’t have judged the girls’ reaction to this entire situation less accurately if she’d tried.

“You can rub it on your gums if you don’t wanna snort it,” Vanessa explained, part of Scarlet wishing she’d told her that before her turn. Brooke tilted her head, considering, then wet her finger, reached into the bag and took some. Then she put her finger back in her mouth and maneuvered it around, her eyes on Vanessa.

“You tryna flirt, boo?” the other girl questioned, her eyes half-lidded as she locked eyes with her.

Brooke let out a laugh. “Bitch I’m trying to take fucking drugs!”

Vanessa, Brooke and Scarlet burst out laughing, Yvie shushing them.

“Right, let’s go, junkies,” she said irritably. Scarlet frowned, sad that she seemed to have upset Yvie in some way. An idea came to her as they left the cubicle and wandered past the judgemental line of waiting girls.

“I’m gonna get us a bottle of champagne,” Scarlet decided, sure for a second that she saw Yvie roll her eyes, but she wasn’t too sure.

“Vanjie, does it look obvious we’ve been doing drugs?” Scarlet heard Brooke yell over the music, Vanessa laughing gently.

“Everyone here is on drugs, baby. Just chill. It’ll kick in in a minute,” she winked, taking both of Brooke’s hands and jumping a little on the dancefloor.

Scarlet watched as Brooke’s eyes darted to a security camera on the ceiling. “Guys. They can see us. They know.”

“Brooke, relax, nobody gives a shit,” Yvie rolled her eyes. Brooke turned to Scarlet, panic filling her eyes.

“Scarlet, what was in that? Is it all okay, yeah? It’s not got anything through it?”

“Oh, good. Well done, bitch, are you seeing this?” Yvie glared at Scarlet before she had a chance to reply to Brooke. “Brooke! It’s fine! You’re okay!”

The music seemed as if it had been turned up louder. Scarlet scrunched her eyes closed. “Brooke, it’s fine, okay? I’m going to the bar, who wants something?”

“Ugh, of course you are,” she thought she heard Yvie mutter. Suddenly irritated, Scarlet whipped around to face her.

“And what is that meant to mean, huh?” she snapped, Yvie’s eyes widening a little at being challenged.

“You, bitch! What the fuck is up with you these days?”

“Nothing’s up with me? What is this?!” Scarlet cried, a couple of heads turning their way then slowly turning back. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as if she’d just drank fifty Red Bulls back to back, although she was unable to tell if this was the effect of the drugs or just how annoyed she was.

“Something’s off with you. Fucking…cocaine, champagne, this constant…buying everything for everyone like we’re all charity cases, behaving like you’re a fucking extra off Gossip Girl? This isn’t you, Scarlet!” Yvie yelled back, suddenly grasping her by the wrists and giving her a shake. “The normal Scarlet would have shit herself at the thought of doing a key, the normal Scarlet would want to go to Levels and pay a pound for entry instead of going here to dance around with a bunch of fucking Love Island rejects!”

Yvie’s words stung harshly at Scarlet’s heart. She knew the other girl could sometimes grow argumentative when she was drunk, but Scarlet had never had it directed at her. It wasn’t nice. Scarlet felt her tone switch a little as she spoke. “Yvie, you’re being kind of a dick.”

Yvie gave a laugh of disbelief. “Well breaking fucking news, Scarlet! So are you! I mean do you have any idea how shitty it is to see your best friend grow into a total asshole over the space of two weeks?”

“Guys,” Vanessa suddenly interrupted out of nowhere, and Scarlet had no idea how long they’d been fighting or at what volume. “Me and Brooke are gonna go. She’s not doing well.”

Yvie looked at Vanessa, panicked. She cast Scarlet one last withering look before dashing through the crowd, presumably to pick up their jackets. Scarlet felt a bubble of upset prick at her throat. She turned to Vanessa instead. “What’s happened?”

“She thinks she’s having a heart attack. I mean, she’s not, it’s just the drugs, but I’m still worried about her,” she frowned, biting her lip. Vanessa jerked a thumb back to where Yvie had slinked off. “The fuck was that all about?”

Scarlet shook her head silently, not trusting herself to speak unless she began to cry. She didn’t understand how she’d managed to fuck everything up so badly. Vanessa saw her upset and pulled her in for a quick hug.

“Baby. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

The four of them got their coats and joined the taxi queue in a blur. Yvie wouldn’t even look her way, and Scarlet didn’t trust herself to try to speak to her in case she managed to make things even worse. She seemed more concerned about Brooke anyway, who was chattering away, her teeth clicking together in the cold night air.

“Is the taxi driver going to know? Will he just drive us to the police station and hand us in? Do you think he’ll phone the police? What if the police were to just come here right now and say they’re giving random drug tests to everyone in the line? What if-”

“Oh my God, what if you shut the fuck up?” Yvie snapped, Brooke looking taken-aback. Vanessa wrapped her arms around Brooke’s waist protectively.

“Brooky. It’s alright. The police aren’t coming, the taxi driver isn’t gonna turn us in. We’re going back to your flat and we’ll get you into bed safe. You’ve got us, nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

Brooke let out a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a sob. She buried her face in Vanessa’s hair. “I love you, V’nessa.”

Scarlet saw something shut down behind Vanessa’s eyes as she squeezed Brooke tightly. “I love you too, baby.”

Scarlet couldn’t stop herself from casting her eyes across to Yvie, selfishly longing. If she hadn’t fucked everything up, maybe something could have happened. Now, though, it looked as if she’d have to piece their friendship back together, never mind anything more.

The line moved up, and they found themselves at the front. Brooke and Vanessa spilled in, then Yvie. Scarlet went to join them when she found the door getting pulled across in her face. Yvie scowled at her. “No. You’re not getting in with us. I don’t even want to speak to you right now.”

Scarlet could hear Vanessa protesting. “Yvie, for fuck’s sake-”

“You’re not coming with us, bitch. Make your own damn way home,” she reiterated, slamming the door shut.

As the taxi sped away, Scarlet couldn’t fix the slack-jawed look of complete hurt she could feel on her face. As the reality of what had just happened sank in, she felt her face crumple like a paper bag as she began to cry, stood on her own at the taxi rank in the small hours of the morning, and all she could do was wait.

#rpdr fanfiction #tw drug and alcohol use

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antiporn-activist · 5 years

Text

Not my work, found on Facebook

“So I decided to do a little research into the $750/day figure I’d heard a private company was charging the US government per each detained migrant child. I wanted to, with my own eyes and brain, 1. verify this figure was accurate; 2. verify it was indeed a private company instead of a non-profit charging this, if true, as both have managed these detention centers (not that it really matters, ultimately, but stay with me); 3. try to figure out where this per diem sum — more than my monthly mortgage — was going, if not to even buy these tortured children toothbrushes and soap, which are about the cheapest basic necessities on the market, and which no individual has to replace every day.

$750/person A DAY should cover a lot of necessities, right? Right. So where the hell is all this money going? This can’t be true...

Well here’s what I found:

1. Yes, it’s a private company called Comprehensive Health Services (a subsidiary of Caliburn International). CHS operates the largest child migrant detention center, which is in FL and was already getting horrible press — especially from local FL papers — last year. But that didn’t matter, because CHS recently opened up a few more child prisons in TX, as it snagged a new government contract, despite many documented concerns about conditions there.

2. $750/day per child is an accurate sum of CHS’s CLAIMED operating costs, and what our federal tax dollars are paying for. A sum that was agreed to upon award of the contract. In fact, it was actually on the record as $775 last summer.

3. So where is this money going, you wonder, if not to soap and toothbrushes? Yeah, I did too, and it was quite easy to dig up. CHS, via Caliburn, is controlled by the private equity firm DC Capital Partners. For those of you who don’t know how private equity firms work, look it up, or ask me in the comments.

4. While I would not be able to find out vested shareholders in the DCCP portfolio, we do not have to assume they’re making some nice returns on these CHS operations and government contracts that line their pockets instead of covering even basic human needs for children. That’s clear, because why would a private company keep their costs down so low that they completely disregard humanity, even though they say they’re experts in “healthcare?”

PROFIT. FOR THEIR PRIVATE INVESTORS.

5. While I can’t name for you the private investors getting rich off of this humanitarian crisis, I can name for you members of the advisory board of DCCP, which approves everything in the portfolio.

First up: Trump’s former Chief of Staff, John Kelly, who was named to the board LAST MONTH, and photographed riding a golf cart into a CHS child prison. So with his own eyes, he saw the conditions there. And he was cool with it all, because hey, there’s money to be made for his rich investor friends, and maybe even himself! Who knows! Can’t say for sure, so feel free to reasonably assume what you wish. I’m just stating facts here.

Coincidentally, prior to joining Trump in the WH, he was also a paid lobbyist for DCCP. Hmmmm...

6. So next up on the DCCP board: Richard L. Armitage, former U.S. deputy secretary of state; Michael Corbin; former ambassador to the United Arab Emirates; Michael V. Hayden, former director of the Central Intelligence Agency and of the National Security Agency; Donald M. Kerr Jr., former deputy director of science and technology at the CIA; Anthony C. Zinni, former commander-in-chief of the U.S. Central Command and former U.S. Envoy to the Middle East; and Stephen F. Loftus, former director of the Office of the Budget for the United States Navy.

Are y’all seeing any patterns here?

7. Michael Hayden, last June, said on the record he sees “commonality” between Nazi Germany’s separation of children at concentration camps and the Trump administration policy that is forcing children to be separated from their parents at the U.S.-Mexico border.

"I know we’re not Nazi Germany, alright. But there is a commonality there, and a fear on my part ... We have standards we have to live up to,” Hayden told CNN’s “New Day.”

It appears he left those standards at the boardroom door, along with many other individuals that dance with greed and corruption on the line of the private and public sectors COMPLETELY UNCHECKED.

8. Last month, the same month Kelly got his new gig, the government awarded CHS a brand new, hush-hush contract worth $341 million, even though there had been tons of pressure to close it due to its conditions.

THERE WAS NO COMPETITIVE BIDDING FOR THE CONTRACT, and it happened under the radar.

9. Just two months before this, in March, CHS/Caliburn cancelled its IPO after registering with the SEC to sell $100m public shares. The CEO cited “market forces,” yet made it clear the company was thriving and growing.

——————

I’ll leave you to come to your own conclusions about all of this, or do more research. And I’ll post a ton of sources in the comments for those who actually think this administration is “draining the swamp,” or who want to debate the semantics of whether these ”centers” can reasonably be called child concentration camps or not without offending some non-brown people.

And for those of you who think children don’t deserve the most basic human rights because they’re not American: There’s a special place in hell for you, and I imagine hell to be a whole lot like this situation.

For those of you who are cool lining the pockets of private citizens in DC with YOUR tax dollars while dirty, hungry, sick children live imprisoned and stacked in cages without even a dime of your money going to pay for soap and toothbrushes for these kids like it was supposed to: I’m ashamed to share this country with you as legal citizens, and I think you’re disgustingly dumb. We failed you, too, but at least you got to go to school when you were a kid, and didn’t spend childhood dying in a cage.

America, NONE OF THIS IS OK. WAKE UP.”

——————

FRIDAY NIGHT UPDATE (!!)

1. As mentioned upon writing this, I originally posted my sources at the beginning of the comments thread at time of publishing -- before it became a large discussion. For your convenience and further reading, I am now moving my sources here + some extra homework for everyone to do (no particular order):

https://www.bloomberg.com/profile/company/CLBR:US

https://www.miamiherald.com/news/local/immigration/article229744049.html

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/john-kelly-joins-board-of-caliburn-international-company-operating-largest-unaccompanied-migrant-children-shelter/

https://news.littlesis.org/2019/02/13/wall-street-banks-former-defense-officials-looking-to-cash-in-on-child-detentions/?fbclid=IwAR3VPG3U1VqOlHvAus6mZwT5X42YR0946O-9ALtwFh-P-2i8P_ZxLQ8QvwE

https://thehill.com/latino/392727-hayden-sees-commonality-between-zero-tolerance-border-policy-and-nazi-germany?fbclid=IwAR1XcPVz72-f1ju70gdibR-H6-3tI8dOh_9yqfjZtNx-kfQJb6AMuf-gemI

https://www.npr.org/2019/02/13/694175061/florida-shelter-is-scrutinized-for-the-way-it-handles-migrant-children?fbclid=IwAR2Sq1vPOSLs0LPxkI6723lMKipsI12orZWMqxSzw9kqUqqTfM18gpo6xaU

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/21/us/migrant-shelters-border-crossing.html

https://heavy.com/news/2019/05/caliburn-international/?fbclid=IwAR1tsUMn2noGPGWEZxdwOlGwwCj-eDjaIR2I2pCNPd6qgehjCKs0lJpIJuQ

https://www.thedailybeast.com/doj-is-investigating-whether-us-payoffs-to-iraqi-officials-opened-the-door-for-isis?fbclid=IwAR2fXGNE328gvAi6bp7mD7SzKYo5wCY-x2lODw4fKDNrssupd-FGcOfmjnY

https://thebaffler.com/latest/retirement-brought-to-you-by-prisons-inc?fbclid=IwAR3STKgqiMOtVUho4QPq21zXRNovBl8_gvKpFdX3rUWahrOuZmBLJ9pO_m0

https://www.floridatoday.com/story/news/local/2018/06/20/cape-canaveral-detention-center/717375002/

https://www.chsmedical.com/compliance

The people have spoken, so hope that helps you all wrap your minds around this in a more complete and credible way. Thank you to all who have participated in civil dialogue and shared this post. Let's keep it constructive, as we do not need to be even more destructive than the current situation.

2. THE POST IS ALREADY PUBLIC + SHAREABLE. Please do not ask me if you can share it -- I made it public, which is why you can see it. You should be able to share the original version. If you can't, refresh your app, run your updates or make sure you aren't still viewing a friend's protected share of the original itself. There is no possible way I can instruct all individuals on how to share it -- but I appreciate all of you who are moved by these words, and want to raise awareness about this distressing situation.

3. Your concern has given me hope. Do your homework. Look into your group investment portfolios, pensions, etc. Know where your money is invested. Call your legislators. Do anything but freak out to the point of being unproductive and histrionic. DO ANYTHING BUT BE AWFUL TO EACH OTHER.

Thank you. We are in this together.

From the Facebook page of Emily Price.

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