#i will ride the Dakota train forever

[pink-wysteria]

Dakota putting aside his hurt and betrayal and feelings of being unworthy aside the minute he sees William and Vyncent looking broken and defeated and instead almost immediately holding them close and giving them unwavering love and support without even knowing the whole story, all because he can't watch more people he loves fall without giving him a chance to save them and he knows that they're only truly at their strongest when they're together makes me fucking tear up just thinking about it

yes I cried for like an hour at ep 34 what of it

#Dakota is my all time favourite hero ever #genuinely #sat here CRYING for like an hour over ep 34 #he's just #so #PRECIOUS #I love him #i love him so very very much #i will ride the Dakota train forever #grizzly your character is a wonder #jrwi spoilers #jrwi pd #jrwi prime defenders #prime defenders season 2 #prime defenders spoilers #prime defenders #Dakota Cole #jrwi dakota

[nostalgicamerica]

True story:

Back some time ago - several lifetimes ago, it seems - I managed to scrape by and graduate high school and had the summer to kill before starting college in the fall.

Instead of finding a job and earning a few bucks like my more responsible classmates, I decided I would do a little traveling and see a bit of the world.  That sounds more romantic than it should when you consider my reluctance to exchange labor for legal tender, and the meager state of my finances.

One Friday morning, I stuffed a few articles of clothing in a backpack, raided my parent’s pantry for items that could be eaten without a heat source, and wouldn’t weigh me down too much, walked out to Highway 41 and stuck out my thumb heading south.

At the time I was sure I made a dashing figure.  Long hair, faded blue jeans, and my older brother’s tan leather jacket with fringes on the sleeves and the hem.  In retrospect, and as much as it pains me to say it today, I am pretty sure I looked like a scrawny granola-eating hippy.  

To those not familiar with the practice, I can assure you that hitchhiking is not at all glamorous, but on my limited budget it was the only way I was going to get out of town.  Most rides were to the next town eight miles down the road, or to the driver’s turnoff four miles yonder.  It was dusty, I got rained on, chased by stray dogs, and rousted by overly ambitious sheriff’s deputies.  

I am declining to regale you with some of the reprobates who picked me up.  Suffice it to say, if you are considering taking up hitchhiking, take my advice and just don’t do it. 

The ETA I set for myself was tossed after the first day.

I was headed to South Dakota to see Mt. Rushmore, and if things went well, I planned to swing down into northwest Wyoming to see Devil’s Tower.

I never made it to Devil’s Tower, and my fleeting glimpse of the presidents carved into the Black Hills was obscured by one of the worst rainstorms I have ever experienced, before or since.

Dejected, I crossed the highway and stuck out my thumb for home.

Some days later found me ambling up a street in southern Minnesota.  It was hot and humid, and, save for the almost daily rainstorms, I hadn’t bathed in weeks (my stench was so rancid stray dogs ceased chasing me), and my pilfered food had long run out.

All I could think of was home.  My nascent yearning for freedom was countered by the continuous rumbling in my stomach.

Then, like some sort of surreal dream, four little fuzzy raccoons crossed the road in front of me.  Mama wasn’t anywhere in sight.  The softball-sized little ringtails alerted to me and, undoubtedly doing what mama taught them, they climbed a tree on the side of the road.

Their training must have been cut short, because the tree they climbed was a bush not much taller than me.  Now, if I had been normal, I’d have sauntered on up the road in hopes that mama raccoon would put in an appearance, but my entire boyhood had been filled with dreams of having a raccoon for a pet and I did the natural thing.

I untied the leather jacket from around my waist and draped it over the raccoons intending to carry them in it until I could find something more practical with which to ferry them.  What happened next forever changed my perception that raccoons are cute and loveable.

Those four little bandits shredded my brother’s jacket lining in seconds and started in on the leather.  They hissed and spit and I think they used straight razors to significantly lengthen the fringes.  One or more evacuated his or her bowels.  I could swear they were swearing at me before escaping the coat and bush for a larger tree nearby.  I think the little bastards fuzzy vandals even stole my pack of cigarettes.  

Somewhat wiser, I gave up on the idea of a four-legged bandit for a pet and resumed my travels toward home.  The entire rest of my trip I hoped that mama made it back to her babies, to teach them a little respect and discipline, if nothing else.     

When I finally made it back home I told my brother that I had been mugged outside Pierre, and had put up a good fight.  His eyes were full of skepticism and I could tell he didn’t believe me because a.) I was about a buck ten and couldn’t fight to save my life, and b.) it was the inside of his jacket that had taken most of the damage, and a mugging couldn’t explain all the fecal matter in one of the inside pockets.

[mrepstein]

The Beatles pose with Maureen Donaldson (née Payne) [pictured left] and Val Sumpter at the Beatles Fan Club headquarters, circa 1963. 

In 1989 Maureen published a memoir, An Affair to Remember, about her four-year relationship with Cary Grant. In the memoir she briefly mentions her time working in the Beatles Fan Club offices, and later for Brian Epstein’s NEMS Enterprises. You can read her account below:

Like millions of girls around the world, I had discovered the Beatles in 1963. I liked them all, but Paul McCartney was my favorite. His long lashes and sexy chestnut eyes stirred something within me that no real-life boy could hope to ignite.

The more I saw Paul on television and the more I saw his picture in the magazines, the more determined I was to meet him. I was convinced that once he met me, he would see I was unlike all the other girls who adored him. And he would marry me.

But turning that fantasy into reality was going to take some work. It took one bus and two train rides just to get me to the North End Music Stores (NEMS) offices in London. That was the company owned and operated by Brian Epstein, manager of the Beatles. Every day after school I’d embark on this long trip and arrive on the NEMS doorsteps. I asked anyone there for any kind of job. I wasn’t proud. Just so I could be close to Paul.

The girls in the front office took pity on me and let me stuff envelopes and do other assorted tasks. There was no pay, but I felt useful and somehow connected to Paul. I just knew I would meet him if I kept pushing in this direction.

My determination finally caught Brian’s eye. He gave me a job for about eighteen dollars a week at the Beatles Fan Club offices. I would answer the telephones and also help out sorting through the mail, which contained thousands of jelly beans, supposedly the boys’ favorite.

When I went home to share the good news with my parents, I didn’t quite get the reaction I had anticipated. I informed them (as well as a visiting neighbor, Elsie Grunsell) that I was leaving school at age sixteen to begin work the following Monday for the Beatles. The three of them had been sitting there enjoying their tea when I unleashed this particular bombshell. Rising slowly, my father stood ramrod straight and said firmly:

“You’re not going to work - I repeat not - for those... those yobos!”

I started crying. I had to take that job because that was my only route to Paul. When my parents saw how determined I was and what it meant to me, they relented. Years later they told me they hoped I would come to my senses and get bored with life with the Beatles. Actually, it was the beginning of an odyssey that would take me all the way to America.

I began work at the fan-club office on a Monday. Four days later I met Paul in the flesh. He had dropped by to take all us hardworking girls to a Chinese lunch. I was so awestruck being in the same room with Paul I simply couldn’t eat. I just picked at my plate. Besides, I didn’t know how to eat with chopsticks.

Instead I feasted on the sight of Paul, who actually had a bit of a shy streak. But when he kept talking about Jane this and Jane that, I poked one of my coworkers in the arm and said: “Who is this Jane?”

I was told all about Jane Asher, a pretty red-haired actress who was Paul’s steady. I was crestfallen at first. But I was too busy for disappointment. London in the early sixties seemed to be the center of the universe, and I was now part of it. Mary Quant was revolutionising fashion on Carnaby Street; the Beatles and the scruffier Rolling Stones were changing the sound of rock music; and a stick-thin fashion model named Twiggy was making thin “in.” Fortunately I had begun to lose all my baby fat and got swept up in the excitement and intensity of all the changes London was going through.

I had been at my new post in the fan-club offices for about three months when I answered the phone one day. It was Brian. “Who’s this?” he asked. “This is Maureen Payne,” I said shyly. “Well, I’d very much like to see you in my office tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

“Me?” I said, simply astounded.

“Yes, You!” he barked from the receiver. “I’ve got a job for you.”

It turned out Brian liked the sound of my voice and wanted me back at the NEMS offices, where there was an opening for a receptionist. There was not only a raise of approximately fifteen dollars a week but also the opportunity of assisting Brian in the press office with its blizzard of press releases and bulletins released almost daily to the media.

Brian was a mercurial man - one minute up, the next down. But he was always buzzing about the place like a hornet, trying to find some new way to keep the press interested in “the boys.” Then one day I helped to oil the publicity machine in my unique way.

Sometimes the girls and I in the NEMS offices would get restless, so we conducted elevator races. There was a rickety old elevator in dire need of repair; we would cram into it and push the buttons like crazy. It would take forever for the contraption to reach the next floor, but we didn’t care - we’d be laughing and screaming so hysterically we would hardly notice. Of course, this all happened when Brian was out of the office.

But one day some of Brian’s other clients - including Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas, and another group called the Fourmost - dropped by, and we were especially bored. It was raining outside, one of those dark days that needed a little juicing up. So we girls invited the boys to get into the elevator with us. We wanted to see how many of us the silly thing could hold without expiring.

The answer: not many. About eight of us had gotten in when the elevator crashed. It fell down only a few feet, but a fire truck had to be called and firemen sent in to retrieve us. Since this occurred at the Beatles offices, it showed up on the evening news.

So there we were, being pulled out of the lift by the firemen and escorted in the pouring rain into a truck waiting to take us to the hospital to be checked for any possible injuries. Only our pride had been hurt. We were horribly embarrassed later, when the boys took special delight in telling us that the firemen had huge grins on their faces as they “rescued” us, because they could see up our miniskirts!

The next day Brian called us into his office and threatened to dock our pay because of the incident. He was just bluffing, though, we heard him laughing the minute we left his office.

- An Affair To Remember: My Life With Cary Grant by Maureen Donaldson and William Royce (1989)

#The Beatles #Maureen Donaldson #Maureen Payne #Val Sumpter

[tavi-hayes]

practice challenge ~ journey to the palace

((whoopwhoop, idk how i managed to write this (given it’s quite long and i usually never ever write stuff this long) also please excuse me again for any spelling/grammar errors i try. alsoooo thanks to these wonderful girls: Bethia @h-hart​, Kat @clara-choii​ and Pia @brookelynnsanders​!))

It was silent at work today. The only sounds were the flipping of pages and the ticking on keys of a computer, followed by a frustrated sigh occasionally.

“Maybe we should get some more flutes?” I said, “they’re not that expensive and they won’t take up a lot of space here.”

Lola, being distracted by her laptop, showed no sign that she had heard what I just said.

“Helllooo, Lo are you there?”

“Huh, what?” she ran her hands through her hair as she looked my way.

I lifted the catalogue to show her the flute page.

“No Tavi,” Lo leaned her head on the back of the chair, doing the accounts must have tired her. “We already have flutes, and no one is ever interested in them. They have been here for decades.”

I rolled my eyes, “maybe that is why no one is interested. They look grim.”

Lo refocused on her laptop, and I flipped another page of the catalogue.

Oeh, the bass guitars. My favourite part.

I ran my finger over the page, paying a lot of attention to each one.

There were electronic bass guitars, but also the semi-acoustic ones. Some were very modern-looking with the brightest of colours, while others go for more of a vintage look.

I don’t know if I would ever be able to part with my own baby. The bass guitar, that I now owned, had been eyeing me every day since it had arrived in the store. It had been love at first sight.

But it was such a big investment and I just didn’t have that kind of money.

A part of my earnings was needed for us to make a living, pay the rent and do the groceries for example. And the other part that wasn’t needed for that, entered our savings jar.

We had been saving money since the day my dad was put behind bars. For whatever reason those bars had been in St. George. Freaking St. George.

The province didn’t even have direct borders with Denbeigh, Ottaro was right in between.

That made a simple, but still long, car ride impossible. Not taken the problems that come with the snowy climate into account.

That same climate also caused issues for our only transportation option.

Denbeigh’s climate was hard to predict at times. It could be a beautiful day with sunshine and a clear sky, but then you wake up the next morning to a thick layer of snow.

And because those snowfalls could happen in at least 8 out of 12 months, a lot of planes got cancelled in those months. The only airport anywhere near Winnipeg was privately owned. So the owners could literally ask the prices they wanted for the plane tickets. And boy, they were only focussed on making a profit.

For a simple family of Fives, those prices were unpayable. Hence why we had been saving money for 6 years now, still nowhere near able to pay for tickets. My mom would need a ticket, Daniel and I would too, and we just can’t leave little Aria and Arlan. My dad should be allowed to see them as well. That’s means we already need the money for 5 tickets. But if we include Daniel’s family, with his wife and little Melody, then that would equal 7 tickets.

So yeah, I would never have been able to buy that bass guitar.

Until Lo had a brilliant idea. They would give it to me as my birthday present for the upcoming 10 years. At first, I couldn’t accept that kind of gift, knowing it would have been a huge investment for the Wood family as well. But they insisted, hinting that they would get an employee discount anyway since you know Mr Wood owns the place. So, the price dropped, and they ignored me, so I had to give in and accept. It was the best gift I had ever gotten.

The stores door busted open, “GIRLS!” Gina’s voice took me back to earth. “they’re about to do the draw!”

“What draw?” apparently Lo shared my confusion.

Gina rolled her eyes and grabbed Lo’s laptop from the table. “Wait, I was working! Save it, save it!”

The laptop was put right on top of the catalogue I had just been looking through. Lo ushered over as well.

“Let me just,” Gina had opened an internet page and started typing in the website address of Winnipeg’s number one news channel, WTV. Such an original name.

The news anchor, some middle-aged woman with very fake looking blond hair, appeared on screen. “What is she wearing?” Lo asked, disgust and confusion both showing on her face.

“A track suit, it’s part of her image,” Gina unmuted the laptop, the crow-like voice of the woman filling the room, “now shush, I wanna hear this.”

“… Cameron Porter has been selected for the Illéan national ice hockey team. The star of Winnipeg’s very own ice hockey team, the Winnipeg Belugas, will accompany the national team to the world cup, taking place later this year in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Last week’s draw concluded that Illéa will have to face the German Federation and New Asia in the group stage. The national team’s training will start next week.”

Lo and I shared a look, “this is what you wanted to see Gina?”

“Since when do you care about ice hockey?” I asked, this was something new.

“Urgh, you guys are intolerable,” she silenced us with her finger.

“… and now we will switch to the royal palace in Angeles, to watch the live draw for Prince Arin’s Selection.”

The draw, of course that was what had sparked Gina’s interest. For some unknown reason, the entire Selection had slipped from my mind.

Nevertheless, I felt a little flutter in my stomach. Nerves. Looking over to my friends, I noticed the tense looks on both of their faces. Lo’s hands were clasped together, while Gina’s had disappeared in the pockets of her cardigan.

“Welcome,” some weird voice-over called.

With that the camera focussed on the prince.

“Urgh,” I rolled my eyes.

Lo poked me in the side, laughing, “oh Tavi your distaste is showing.”

“I don’t understand how you can hate someone who is that good looking. I mean have you seen that jawline? Perfection.” Gina had had a crush on the prince for as long as I had known her.

I rolled my eyes again, “I don’t hate him.” The drawing began before I had time to explain myself further.

“From Allens … Idalia Moretti.”

“He doesn’t look very happy,” I couldn’t help but comment, “or comfortable.”

Gina sighed probably annoyed that she couldn’t listen to the show properly, “his engagement was called off not that long ago. That is a pretty hard thing to deal with.”

“Yeah, I see, it’s so hard that he’s having a Selection. Shouldn’t he like get over the other girl first?”

My friends ignored me.

“From Angeles … Emily Rose White.”

This thing was going to take forever. I just wanted to look at the catalogue again, not at that prince, “he’s making me feel uncomfortable, just by watching him.”

Again, no response from either of my friends.

I took that as a sign to remain silent, knowing very well my friends wouldn’t reply anyway now that their eyes were locked on the prince.

“From Dakota … Brooke Lynn Sanders.”

Gina let out a breath she was holding, “okay now is Denbeigh,” she took our hands in hers, “fingers crossed it’s one of us.”

Her hand palms were sweaty, she must really want this.

“From Denbeigh … Octavia Hayes.”

We were all silent for a minute. Then Lo started screaming, Gina joining her. “Oh my GOODNESS!”

“Tavi! You’re going to the palace! You’re going to meet the prince!”

“Yeah,” I was absolutely lost for words. Meeting the prince hadn’t been the first thing that came to my mind, hell it hadn’t even been the second or third thing.

The first thing I thought was: I’m one step closer to getting my dad out of prison. I will be in that freaking library day and night looking for the book that is going to help me. There must be something somewhere about a second opinion on a court order, or something else to annul the judge’s decision.

“Ohhh, I’m sooo jealous of you right now. You are going to meet the prince! And there’s a chance he will fall in love with you and you’ll have beautiful babies.” Gina pulled on one of my curls, it bounced up and down as she let go of it.

“Uhm, I think that particular chance can be redeemed to zero.” I bit my lip, not even in my biggest dreams had I imagined my name would be drawn.

“Tavi, listen. I know you only applied for those laws books, but you need to be friendly to the prince if you want to stay,” Lo insisted, “or else you will be eliminated.”

“And I have to interact with him?”

“There are girls who would kill for a chance of even being in one room with him,” Gina took over, she sounded very serious suddenly. “You’ll meet him that’s for sure, and if you actually try you might make it far enough to earn a date. Just at least try to be nice, okay?”

“Just don’t insult him,” Lo added, “or his family, or the country. Okay, don’t insult anyone.”

The way my best friends were looking at me brought me right back to the good old school days. That was exactly the way teachers had looked whenever I had done something naughty. Which had basically been at least once every day.

“Do you promise?” Lo asked when I didn’t respond.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try not to insult anyone.” I sighed, this is going to be so much harder than I thought.

All of a sudden a lot robot-like voice yelled “BREAKING NEWS”.

It just scared the living shit out of me. We turned as one towards the laptop again.

On the screen was that fake blond woman in her tracksuit again.

“Prince Arin just completed the draw for his very own Selection. Some famous girls will be joining him at the palace. Our very own province will be represented by Octavia Hayes. You might have heard of her, given that she is some meekly Five. But her father’s name will ring a bell. Octavia’s father is Caspar H., a dangerous convict in prison for murdering Winnipeg’s beloved mayor Wilfred Wallis. He might have very well passed the criminal gene onto his daughter. Not only is she definitely not a good representative for Denbeigh, but the lives of the royal family might all be in danger.”

“Damn it!” Stupid news anchor. Why couldn’t they just stay out of my family’s business. Now the entire country will be aware of this. My dad’s arrest did make the headlines of some newspapers when all that had gone down. But that had been 6 years ago and I had hoped no one would remember that.

But now it was out in the open. Again.

It didn’t even matter that my dad was innocent. He had already been suffering for it by being locked up far away from our family.

“Tavi,” Lo put her arms around me, “that’s just bullshit, no such thing as a criminal gene exists.”

Gina joined our hug, “you can’t take anyone seriously who wears a tracksuit on live TV.”

*** Couple of days later ***

Dear dad,

My name got drawn for the Selection, I’m going to the palace and meet the prince. Some palace person is coming to pick me up anytime now so I can’t write a lot. Plus, if the mail has already arrived then you will have to wait another month before you get this anyway.

I asked Daniel if he could start writing a monthly letter as well, maybe he can even add a little picture of Melody so you can see her for the first time. He said he will take care of mom, Aria and Arlan as well. Molly will just cook dinner for more people, which she doesn’t really mind doing. At least that’s what she said.

Anyhow I will write to you from the palace.

Lots of love, 

Octavia

Zohl wzw, R’n hxzivw. Tlrmt gl gsv kzozxv, z dslov mvd vmerilmnvmg dsviv R wlm’g pmld zmblmv. Ovzermt nln, vhkvxrzoob mld gszg rg urmzoob hvvnh orpv hsv’h gibrmt gl orev ztzrm. Zmw dszg droo gsv xlfmgib gsrmp lu nv. Droo R gfim rmgl zm lfgxzhg? Zxxliwrmt gl DGE R’n tlrmt gl hozftsgvi veviblmv rm gsv kzozxv, yvxzfhv lu blfi ‘xirnrmzo tvmvh’. Yfg gsv kvlkov dsl olev blf droo zodzbh yvorvev blfi rmmlxvmxv, vevm ru gsv dslov xlfmgib hvvnh gl gsrmp lgsvidrhv. Qfhg pmld gszg dv nrhh blf wvziob. Zmw R droo gib vevibgsrmt R xzm gl tvg blf ivovzhvw. Qfhgrxv zodzbh kivezroh.

*** At the airport ***

The car journey all the way from Winnipeg to somewhere in Sota had lasted for ages. Even though I hadn’t really been aware of that, since I fell asleep as soon as they closed the doors behind me.  

A frustrated voice had woken me up, “can you please stop drooling all over the leather upholstery?”

My eyes flew open, saliva was indeed smeared on the seat. I quickly wiped it off my face, where it had been present as well. “Sorry,” I mumbled, I then realized we had arrived at the airport, I quickly opened the car door and jumped out.

What I immediately noticed was the rain puddle I had landed in. My shoes and socks were soaking wet. Great.

“Maybe you should try to act more lady-like?” the driver said with a very disapproving tone, looking me up and down. He had already taken my guitar case out of the car and was about to put it right onto the wet street. I quickly grabbed the case out of his hands, clutching it close to my body.

The driver sighed, “there’s the entrance to the airport. Inside it will be clear which directions to follow.”

I made my way towards the entrance he had pointed at when I heard him mumble to himself, “why did I had to drive a barbarian?”

As I turned around, the car’s engine had been running again. I wasn’t sure if he could see me, nor I did I really care. I showed my middle finger to the car anyway. Asshole.

Never had I seen an airport before. It was freaking massive, people walking in all possible directions. Some carrying luggage with them, others with balloons that read “we missed you” or “welcome home”.

One day, my fam and I will be waiting at the airport, carrying one of those dumb balloons around. Coming to pick up dad.

I snapped out of my daydream by someone tapping me on my shoulder. “Miss Hayes, please come with me.”

Nodding, I followed the person not really having another choice since I had no clue which way I had to go. Maybe this is some insane kidnapper.

My heartbeat increased; did I just make a stupid mistake?

“Only one girl has arrived so far. You are to wait for the others before you can board the plane.”

Okay, no insane kidnapper then.

Unless.

This is a complete setup created by his crazy brain.

Panic filled my body, damnit how will I get out of this situation.

Okay, if I just push the person onto the floor, that will give me a chance to run for my life.

One. 

Two.

Three.

I took a deep breath in, ready to make the push. But at the last minute the person side stepped which caused me to lose my balance. He looked at me in a very funny way, “please take a seat, the flight attendant will come get you in a few minutes.”

My cheeks turned very very warm, the redness might very well have equalled the red colour of a traffic light.

Trying to calm myself down, I slumped down into a chair. Yikes, only now became I aware of it again. My socks were still wet and cold. Sigh.

After taking a few deep breaths in and out, I noticed the other girl.

“Oh hey, you’re also a Selected?” I started, realizing it wouldn’t be a bad thing to talk to someone.

She turned towards me, “I am Brooke Lynn Sanders, but just call me Brooke please!”

Not knowing what else to do, I waved at her a little awkwardly. “hi Brooke, nice to meet you. My name is Octavia, but please call me Tavi.”

“Nice to meet you Octavia. Did you have a good journey?” I could already tell she did have the lady-like manners I had been lacking.

Oh god, I couldn’t possibly tell her about the drooling situation, so I decided to stick to a vague answer. “Yeah, it was alright thanks. What about your own journey? Which province are you from?”

“My send off from Dakota was a bit bumpy but I am here now. I wish they would have let me take the train though...”

Another girl arrived, also looking very much like someone the prince could end up with. Compared to these two, I was more of a rag doll.

Pushing my feelings behind that wall deep inside me, I waved her over, “oh yeah hi, please join us.”

We chatted some more for a bit, until Haven arrived.

The way she was walking, the only person I had seen walking like that was Long-Beard Logan, the homeless guy who could often be found near New Wave Records. He walked the same way, but he had one wooden leg.

Then Haven opened her mouth, a weird voice coming out, “hi.”

I noticed Brooke shared my confusion, “uhm hello?”

She took out her phone and typed something, it read ‘I’m Haven’.

My confusion hadn’t ebbed away, “are you alright?”

She typed some more, ‘yup:)) just got a bad cold! what are your names?’.

As a response to that we all introduced ourselves again. These girls didn’t seem to be that bad, hopefully the other Selected at the palace were the same. But the chance of that being true was small. Also, why did I care what the other girls were like? I wasn’t there to make friends, with them or with the prince. I had applied for the thing I needed most. Access to the royal library.

“Have you guys ever been on a plane before? This is all very new to me.” I admitted, trying to ease the nerves that had been building up inside me ever since my name had been picked in that draw.

Brooke had a very strong opinion on planes. Private planes more specifically.

Which came as a shock to me. The private plane part. I didn’t know what I was thinking but taking a private plane had never crossed my mind.

In the meantime, Brooke started talking about the CO2 emissions.

“How else would we get to the palace without having an endless journey? It’s not like there’s a teleportation device, right?” I said a little more vicious than I intended. The higher castes used planes all the time, if anyone had a cause in the destruction of our planet it was definitely them.

Brooke definitely had thought of it all, as she mentioned the outstanding quality of the Illéan train system. Clara chimed in to agree with her.

I decided to not mention my exact thoughts about the higher castes, given the fact that I had promised my friends back home not to insult anyone. So I just nodded my head, “yeah okay I understand your point.”

We were able to board the plane shortly after that. Brooke sat down in a window-seat and Clara nestled herself in the seat next to Brooke’s.

I took a chair on the opposite side of the plane, trying to create some sort of privacy for myself without being rude.

Haven sat down in the seat next to me and smiled at me.

The entry door closed; I could no longer contain my nerves. “Here we go I guess.” I tried to calm my breathing, but it didn’t really help. I tried to think of my family back home in Denbeigh, didn’t help either. I heard my dad’s voice in my head, it was like he was actually talking to me, “You are a strong girl, the flight will be over before you know it. Octavia, you can do this.”

A weird sound whisked my dad’s voice away, I looked over towards the source of the sound. It was Brooke choking on her drink. “Please don’t die,” I said. Her dying here would be a shitty start to this whole adventure. Besides, Brooke actually seemed like a nice person.

She coughed, “I am – I am trying.”

Haven mentioned her sibling, how they were close and stuff. She then asked if we had any siblings ourselves.

This provided me with the perfect distraction. I turned towards her, “yeah, I have three siblings. One older brother, a younger sister and a younger brother as well.”

Normally I would never share such personal information with someone I had just met but talking about them was the distraction I so desperately needed from this whole plane situation.

The others talked some more, but I just realized the one and only thing that would get me through this.

Music.

“If you guys don’t mind, I’m gonna listen to some music.” I said as I took my earphones out of my bag. “Haven would you like to join?” I asked her politely, given that she was sitting right next to me and it would have been quite rude otherwise.

She smiled at me and nodded, so I handed her one of the earphones. “I do have a very mixed taste in music so you’re in for a treat.” Maybe I could even make her listen to our own music, you know casually extending Five Whispers’ audience.

As a reply, Haven winked at me, “I love a girl with mixed music taste.”

Oh who would have thought, I had something in common with another Selected. I too liked people with a diverse music preference, since music says so much about a person. The quote ‘You are what you listen to’ was on one of the walls of New Wave Records music store. It was also my own personal life motto.

Clara and Brooke continued chatting, but I didn’t listen anymore. The music had taken a hold on me and it had only released me from its grip when the plane hit the ground in Angeles.

#selectionoc #practice challenge #fic

[wittystarkk]

The Last Five Years || Bucky Barnes || Part Eight

author: wittystarkk

word count: 2k

relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader

warnings: none.

song: The Next Ten Minutes

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Bucky walked slowly beside (Y/N), their hands intertwined with each other. Their fingers were locked tightly together, their hands swinging a little with every step that the two of them took. Their heads were on a slow swivel, glancing around Central Park as they progressed deeper along the foliage covered pathway. It was late summer, and the air was starting to get the crisp taste of fall to it. Her skin prickled with goosebumps every time a gust of wind danced over her skin. The floral dress she wore didn’t proved her with much coverage, though she was still proud to show off the outfit she’d made.

He stopped when she did, following her line of sight up to the building on the left that was overlooking Central park. “Is that one John Lennon?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at the building. The two of them had decided to take a stroll earlier that day and on the short cab ride down to the park he’d told her about the many celebrity apartments that looked down on the park. She was excited to figure them out.

“No,” he chuckled. “That one’s Jerry Seinfeld.” He nodded to the building next to the one their eyes were currently trained on, smiling a little. “That one’s John Lennon, there.”

She pursed her lips, amused by his knowledge. He’d told her that he’d read about the apartments in a magazine or something, and she was glad he was sharing this knowledge with her. It was a silly little thing, but it still made her happy. The lake was just in front of them, and she could smell the stale water already. The two resumed their walk, arms swinging more than before. “Is that the San Remo?” She asked of an apartment building to the right.

“No, the Dakota. The San Remo’s up a few blocks, that way.” He pointed forward, indicating the direction to her. She nodded, smiling softly as she took everything in. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they walked, trying to keep himself from smiling like a fool. “Have you ever been inside of the museum?”

She shook her head, frowning a bit. “I always inended to go. Just never had the time or the company.”

“We should go,” Bucky suggested. “See the dinosaur bones, they’re rather massive. It’s impressive. And the artifacts are fascinating.”

She smirked, “you’re such a nerd.”

He could tell by the expression on her face that she was happy. A real, deep happiness that she didn’t have to try to show. It was evident in her eyes, in the upturn of her lips, in the pep of her step. He’d catch these glimpses of happiness when they were together and it would remind him why he loved her, why they were his happy ending.

Their hands swung as they walked, following the parks path. They wound around a bend, slowing their stride as they neared a gazebo. “Should we take a break and sit in here for a bit?”

“We could have our picnic there?” She offered, indicating the basket he’d been carrying in the hand that wasn’t holding hers. “I think it’d be nice. We can put the blanket out, be cool and protected from the sun.”

Bucky gave her a sincere smile, “I think that’s a great idea, babe.” The two dropped hands, ascending the steps of the gazebo. He set the basket down and took the blanket off of the top. She waited for him to splay it out before getting out the picnic contents, setting them atop the blanket to keep it weighted down against the soft breeze.

The two crossed their legs underneath themselves as they sat on opposite sides of the blanket, (Y/N) busying herself with unwrapping the plates. He watched her with a soft smile, still on his lips, amazed that she was his.

She glanced up from what she was doing, furrowing her brows at him. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Cause you’re beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes, but he caught her smiling as she looked back down, returning her attention to her task. “Can I ask you something?” He wondered, beginning to peel the wrapping off of the wine bottle.

“Of course,” she replied, dishing the food up for the two of them.

“Would you share your life with me?” He wondered, keeping his attention on the wine bottle. “For the next ten minutes, at least.”

“Hmm?”

He sighed, “I asked if you’d share your life with me, for the next ten minutes. Figured we could handle that.”

“We’ve been dating for two years, Bucky.” She sighed, returning her attention to the picnic happenings. “I think we’ve more than shown we can handle ten minutes, and I’ve shared my life with you for a much longer period of time than that.”

He cleared his throat a little, “would you just allow me this?”

“What ten minutes? Okay.”

He smiled, pushing up to stand, offering her his hand. She was hesitant for a moment before accepting it, allowing him to help her stand. “If you agree to these next ten minutes then I might be compelled to ask you for more."

"More minutes?" She wondered, allowing him to spin her around by her hand. "I am afraid I can only give you like, maybe the one set of ten."

He rolled his eyes but his smile didn't falter. "There are just, so many things I want to do with you. So many dreams and stories and lives that I need to experience with you."

She allowed him to wrap his arm around your waist, keeping your hand in his. "My life wouldn't be complete without you," he finished his thought, dancing around with her slowly, humming softly under his breath.

"What are you trying to say, Bucky?" She asked with mild confusion and an air of concern to her voice. She looked worried, nearly. Eyes a little bigger than normal, staring up at him.

He stopped humming, dropping her hand from his. "I'm asking you for ten more minutes," he replied, dropping slowly to his knee. "I'm asking you for a lifetime of ten more minutes, babe."

She swallowed hard, eyes frantically scanning over his face. "Bucky," she whispered. "Are you -"

He nodded, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a small envelope. He carefully opened it and allowed the ring to drop into his palm. He took in a deep breath, holding the ring up to her, the light hitting it just right to make it shine. "Will you marry me?"

Her mouth dropped, heart picking up speed as her breath caught in her throat. "I know that it's longer than ten minutes, but... I think we can handle this."

She was silent, looking slowly between the ring and him, her mind going a mile a minute. He began to worry, face falling. The corners of his mouth drooped from the wide smile they once held, his throat feeling like it was going to close. He held the ring a little tighter but lowered his hand. "If.. If this isn't something you want, you can tell me."

This snapped her out of her spell, her brain restarting, finding her voice. "No!" She replied, answering his question.

He took a sharp breath in, retreating from her like he'd been slapped.

"Oh," he whispered, swallowing hard while he nodded his head. "Of course."

She quickly shook her head, processing what she'd just done. "No! I mean, no, it is something I want." She cupped his face delicately in her hands. "I'm sorry, I'm not always on time." She winked. "But you don't expect that from me. Right?" She leaned forward to kiss him softly.

"I want to be your wife," she whispered when she pulled away from the kiss, lowering herself to her knees to be level with him. "I want to bear your child. Hell. I want to one day die knowing I've had a long, full and happy life in your arms. I want your next ten minutes, and then ten after that, until we both run out of minutes to give." She leaned forward to give him another kiss, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs gently.

His arms instinctively wrapped around her, clutching her tightly to his body. She wound her arms around his neck, "I don't know how people survive in this world without someone like you, Bucky."

"Are you saying yes?"

"I'm saying yes," she nodded, pulling back just enough to look him in his eyes. "I'm saying I won't be complete until I walk down the aisle and get to say 'I do' to you. I'm saying that I will give you my entire lifetime, baby."

His lips pulled back into a nearly painful smile as he released her from his arms, offering her the ring he'd still been clutching in his hand. She held her hand up, curling all but her third finger against her hand. He bit his lip, slowly sliding the ring down her finger until it nestled perfectly at the base. She extended all of her fingers then, processing the way the ring looked on her finger. Accepting the way it felt right to be receiving it from Bucky.

In that moment, sitting on her knees on the gazebo with the love of her life, everything felt right. Everything felt like it had finally fallen into place. She loved Bucky, and she knew wholeheartedly then that he loved her, too. That he was giving her just as much as she was giving him. All was good. They were good. She cupped his cheek with her hand again, giving him another soft kiss. "I love you," she whispered to him against his lips.

His hands rubbed softly over her back, "I love you too. Forever."

#sam writes #sams post #sam posts #bucky barnes imagines #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fiction

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Amy Martinez (Character Sheet TV Tropes Style) P-T

Pals With Jesus: She contacted the demoness Lilith and practically worships her as a deity, and Lilith acts as a guardian spirit to Amy at times during times of need.

On a sadder note, Amy’s also quite chummy with Shachath, The Dark Angel who acts as a kindly grim reaper as Shachath offers Amy comforting words and reassurance even as she’s contemplating suicide since Shachath comes to her whenever she senses it.

Inverted with her friendship with Michael, the Anti-Christ. As Amy and Mallory prevent the original Apocalypse timeline, instead of killing him, Amy and Mallory decide to spare him a cruel upbringing and instead take him to the coven and teach him how to use his powers for good and embrace his human side. Michael still has his dark impulses but with Amy and Mallory’s influence, he becomes an ally to the witches and grew to love Amy and Mallory. 

Pay Evil Unto Evil: Due to her upbringing with the witches, Amy staunchly believes in getting revenge on people who have wronged her or her friends as she helped Zoe murder Spalding, stabbed the Axeman to death with her sisters, and attempted to kill Muscular for getting Midoriya horribly injured and intending to kill Kota.

She also tortured pedophiles, rapists and domestic abusers when she was 13 years old.

Amy threatens to stab Endeavor (a man who abused his wife and children) in the eye should he ever do anything to hurt Todoroki or his family ever again.

Perky Goth: While she doesn’t seem gothic, she is still a witch with many gothic interests and has a generally peppy and upbeat attitude.

Person of Mass Destruction: When angered, Amy’s magic spirals out of control, but she does this freely and almost always leaves mayhem and bedlam in her wake as she can tear down fake buildings in a rage and destroyed most of the interior of UA, including the cafeteria, gymnasium and training grounds. 

Pet The Dog: See above her Kick The Dog moments in where she apologizes for every instance and also has several other of these moments to show that she’s capable of kindness:

Every moment she has with Shinsou as she looks after him, comforts him when he’s sad and constantly reassures him during his lowest points.

When Iida is upset for going after Stain himself, Amy actually comforts him and says that she doesn’t blame him for letting his feelings get the better of him and says that she actually respects him for it more. 

Even when she was in a bloodthirsty rage, Amy does nothing to harm any of her classmates or the other students and instead gets them out of the way of her rampage and makes them fall asleep to spare them any trauma or physical pain. 

She fixes the All-Might figure Midoriya got for her and apologized to him with a baked cake as the two of them made up and Amy hugged him as the two of them broke down crying.

Upon returning to UA after her giant meltdown, she gives everyone a very formal apology, especially the ones whose feelings she hurt and then takes them on a vacation to New Orleans so they could have a good time and visit America while letting them have money to use for souvenirs. 

She buys Eri several different dolls and a dollhouse for Christmas and said that she changed her mind and told Santa to give her all her gifts because she’s on the ‘Nice’ list. And later just about every other instance where she does something nice for Eri whether it’s introducing her to Mallory (due to them sharing a similar power), letting her take Dakota out for rides, teaching her how to sing or teaching her how to bake along with Satou.

She asked Mallory to fix the ashes of the cat plush Aizawa gave her and kept it after it was fixed, then apologized to her teacher by buying him a cat-styled mug.

She tells Aoyama that she thinks he has the best fashion sense in the class and says he’s a good guy and going to be a really cool hero when they graduate.

She apologizes to Fuyumi, gives her a fancy gift basket and tells her that she thinks she’s done a good job taking care of the Todoroki family.

Despite continuously calling him boring, Amy throws Ojiro a birthday party and refrains from insulting him for the entire day and even buys him several presents.

She also takes care of the entirety of Class 1-A during Quirk Flu season due to her, Madison, Cordelia and the other witches being naturally immune and nurses them all back to health, including Midoriya and Aizawa, whom she was still kind of angry with.

Like with Shinsou, every moment she has with Ashlen as she is genuinely nice to her, genuinely likes her, looks out for her and goes out of her way to make sure that her new friend is happy. And when she thinks Ashlen won’t like something she does, she quickly stops herself because she doesn’t want to upset her friend.

She comforts Tokoyami when he expresses his regret for rejecting Ashlen’s feelings for him and laments that she moved on with Shinsou, and Amy reassures him that Ashlen will still always love him even if she’s not together with him.

The Pigpen: Downplayed, while Amy seems clean on the outside, hygiene isn’t her biggest priority as she says that she doesn’t use deodorant despite complaining that she has BO, doesn’t shave her pits unless she feels like it, nor does she shave her legs either.

Shinsou: You smell like way too much perfume and body cream.

Amy: Yeah! It was the only way to block out my pits.

Shinsou: There is natural deodorant you know?

Amy: Oh yeah I know, so why don’t you use it? I can smell you from here.

Shinsou: Hey. We’re talking about your BO here.

Ping Pong Naivete: At times, Amy acts like a child, other times, she acts like an adult. She clearly knows how anatomy and sex works and knows more about adult subjects than a normal 17 year old probably should know, but at the same time she has moments where it shows that she’s still a 17 year old girl who DOESN’T know all about sex. As she brought her entire class vibrators for Christmas under the belief that they were ‘body massagers’ even when Shinsou kept telling her that they were vibrators. She also initially thought lube was body cream, and had no idea that their purpose is for sex and masturbation.

Pink Means Feminine: While she’s not stereotypically feminine, Amy often wears pink in her apparel unless it’s her Hero Costume.

Pint-Sized Powerhouse: Despite only standing at 5’0 as one of the shortest in the Hero Course, her magic and variety of powers make her one of the strongest and most feared students in the class.

Platonic Life Partners: With Shinsou, whose been her best friend since childhood. They trust each other and rely on each other like a brother and sister and always support one another, although some of their classmates pressured them into going on a date when they thought they liked each other more than friends do. However, Amy and Shinsou realized that while they love each other, the thought of being together disgusts each other and acknowledge each other as nothing more than dear friends.

Shinsou: Amy... I wanted to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago. You and I have known each other forever, we’re best friends right? Well... I’ve realized something ever since you’ve been gone. Every person has someone in their life, someone that they know they can’t live without. And that person is someone who steals a bounce-house for you on your birthday because you desperately wanted one. That person is someone who sneaks you out of class when you get food poisoning and washes the vomit out of your face and your hair. That person is someone who picks you up and feeds you soda and ice cream when you’re just so miserable you need to drown it in everything that can’t possibly be healthy. Amy... that person is you, and I love you. But... I’m not in love with you.

Amy: (touched) Hitoshi... (warmly smiles) I love you too, but I’m not in love with you either.

Shinsou: (smiles) Want to go watch Game of Thrones?

Amy: Every damn day dude. 

She and Kaminari also have a friendship built on platonic affection as they are very close, playfully flirt with each other, get along very well akin to a brother and sister, can rely on each other and call each other their ‘favorite people’.

Plucky Girl: Amy is very spirited, brave-hearted and despite the trials and tribulations she’s gone through, nothing stops her from fighting and defending what she believes in. 

Positive Friend Influence: When she’s not being a Toxic Friend Influence, she’s this for Shinsou, Madison, Ashlen and Todoroki.  

She can get Shinsou out of his shell and get him to act sillier around her and loosen him up.

She brings out Madison’s Hidden Heart of Gold as she starts becoming kinder to her classmates.

As Ashlen enters UA, Amy helps the somewhat shy and modest girl with her confidence issues and teaches her how to embrace and awaken a newfound wild side.

And she also gets Todoroki out of his shell by making him smile and laugh at her free-spirited humor. 

The Power Of Hate: Sentio Compassios is fueled by Amy’s emotions, her stronger ones at that matter, especially hatred. In fact, Amy’s Sentio Compassios reaches one of it’s strongest states based on the more anger, hatred and resentment she feels, which is what allows her to fight against even stronger heroes and bring them down to their knees. In fact, thinking about her feelings of abandonment, jealousy towards Eri and heartbreak from Midoriya rejecting her confession is what brings Sentio Compassios to a giant, scarlet-red form that she uses to overpower the pro-heroes and defeat Midoriya. 

The Power Of Love: On the other hand, Sentio Compassios is also fueled by her love, an equally powerful emotion that Amy feels strongly. Because Amy wants to get better and no longer be hateful, she resolves to do what she wanted to do in the beginning, fight for love. And Amy’s more tender emotions such as happiness, bittersweetness and protectiveness are what fuel Sentio Compassios to a giant, pink form that is built entirely of her feelings of love for her friends and family. Thinking about her coven, her best friends Ashlen and Shinsou, as well as Bakugo and other dear friends like Midoriya, Todoroki and Kaminari bring Sentio Compassios to it’s zenith. 

Amy: Yes... humans are hateful creatures, but they can love too. I know that because the people I love are humans, and they remind me that I’m human too. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but they still love me, that’s why I’m fighting. Because I believe in love. 

Powers Do The Fighting: Amy is a long-range fighter who mainly relies on her telekinesis to punch, smash and shred everything and anybody around her all the while she just stands by and watches. And when she learns how to use Sentio Compassios, she also starts using it to create attacks and beams out of emotional energy/aura, and is learning how to create clones of her opponents. 

Power Trio: She becomes one with Shinsou and Ashlen, her best and closest friends. Although before Ashlen, she was also something like this with Shinsou and Madison. And between her witch sisters, she’s either this with Madison and Mallory, or Mallory and Coco.

Pride: Amy has a LOT of pride and it shows in how she shows off her powers and goes on and on about how cool her heritage is. However, her pride is also showcased when she conceals all of her problems from her friends because she’s too embarrassed to admit that she has a lot of issues and refuses to be judged or criticized as she takes both VERY harshly due to her pride.

Prone To Tears: Downplayed. Despite her attitude, Amy’s very emotional and sensitive as she gets easily upset when she’s yelled at or if someone is mad at her, and is also easily touched by tender moments or hearing someone’s sad or happy memories, although she can hold it together when she has to even if she’s on the verge of tears.

Protagonist-Centered Morality: Amy has a bad habit of having this mind-set as she doesn’t think even the worst things, she does are wrong just so long as she does them for reasons she believes are right even when she chides others for doing the same if they’re for reasons she doesn’t like.  Might be justified given the environment she grew up in where several of her sisters including one of her caretakers have murdered and betrayed each other but had no choice but to tolerate one another for the sake of surviving due to having a common enemy in the witch hunters. However, she IS trying to break out of this now that she’s attending UA to be a hero, albeit Amy does still prioritize only people she knows above others which makes it a bit difficult, especially during the Shie Hassakai arc as she chews out Midoriya for being deadest on and reckless enough to rescue someone he just met and doesn’t even know well since it cost someone’s life and someone’s power.

Psychic Nosebleed: When Amy utilizes way too much of her telekinesis or the rest of her powers all at the same time for far too long she gets nosebleeds along with horrific headaches that force her to recharge.

Psychotic Smirk/Slasher Smile: VERY fond of pulling off some wicked grins, especially when she gets the drop on someone or whenever she tricks them.  

Pungeon Master: Amy LOVES puns and cracks one almost every day in class, much to Bakugo’s immense aggravation.

Reality Ensues: She’s one of the many troubled individuals Midoriya comes across, and when he experiences just how emotionally disturbed she is due to her Dark and Troubled Past, he attempts to console and reason with her but ultimately fails and only succeeds in angering her even further and widening the distance between them as an incensed Amy chides him by saying that he’s being more patronizing than helpful and that he can’t save everyone from their traumas and that’s she’s not like the others that he saved. While their relationship does get better, Midoriya is crestfallen to know that he couldn’t get through to Amy and that he ultimately won’t be able to do the same for everyone.

Amy: I’m not like the other troubled souls you rescued Deku. I’m not some sad, broken thing waiting for you to rescue me. You can’t save everyone just by being nice and saying nice things that they were waiting so long to hear… stupid.

Red Oni, Blue Oni: The wild, impulsive and hyperactive Red Oni to the calm, rational Ashlen and Shinsou’s Blue Oni as well as to Midoriya’s Blue Oni during their trip to New Orleans.

Relationship Revolving Door: Played for Laughs (often) when it comes to her and Bakugo. Since they’re very love-hate, they’ve broken up and gotten back together a LOT, with Bakugo outright listing how many times Amy has dumped him (7) and how many times he’s broken up with her (6). 

The Resenter: Amy’s capable of being spiteful and can hold a grudge, as she becomes resentful of Midoriya momentarily when he accidentally spurns her feelings for him. She also grows to strongly resent Eri because she received the care and affection from the pro-heroes of her society while Amy was neglected of that and given to a completely different society and forced to abandon her former life and friends. As a result, Amy also grew resentful towards Aizawa because while he offered Amy comfort, he wasn’t willing to take care of her the way he currently does for Eri. Needless to say, Amy was VERY hostile towards the three of them for a while and refused to be among them as she left the dorms two months because she “couldn’t stand looking at their faces”.

Roaring Rampage of Revenge: Angry at the pro-heroes for abandoning her and hurt by Midoriya’s impatience with her, once the Culture Festival is over, Amy can’t hold back her fury and attacks everything and everybody she felt wronged and abandoned by. 

The Runaway: She leaves UA after her rampage and goes on a bender with Madison, forcing Shinsou, Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki and Iida to go and find her. After 2 days, they find her, but while she returns home, she quits UA and leaves the dorms to lock herself away in her mansion for two months. 

Sad Clown: Amy’s one of the funniest girls in the Hero Course, but she acts that way to hide the fact that she’s still very depressed, immensely insecure and miserable underneath the razzing, pranking and jokes are just to mask it all.

Sadist: Amy is a bit TOO eager to murder and torture and laughs when she does so. On a lighter side, she’s also a bit too into messing with her classmates as she frequently laughs when they’re embarrassed or agitated as she once took a twisted delight in disorganizing Iida’s entire room in front of him while she had him tied up. However, Amy does NOT enjoy it when her classmates are genuinely hurt or distressed by rumors or by things that were supposed to be private.

Sanity Slippage: It began when her parents were killed and she fell into a heavy depression, which only worsened upon being forced to move to New Orleans, as the events that forced her to experience personal betrayals, bloodshed and cruel torture inflicted on innocent people, bad relationships, watching new family and friends die broke her remaining sanity as she becomes the giggling, gleefully manic lunatic we know today.

Her sanity takes a toll for the worst after she gets herself kidnapped by the League of Villains as Shigaraki further feeds upon her insecurities and fears of being abandoned by society, and when realizing that the heroes COULD have taken care of her and NOT shipped her off to America, she becomes MUCH more unhinged and harder to reason with as she starts lashing out at everything and everybody around her, including her teacher, who she personally attacks without warning. However, she’s partially aware of it and leaves the dorms for 2 months as a means to spare her classmates from her wrath should she snap and get angry.

Sanity Strengthening: Even when she supposedly was already insane in the beginning, she seems relatively stable among her friends and closest sisters, and upon returning to Japan and reuniting with Shinsou, while making new friends and even finding love in Bakugo slowly stabilized her into becoming somewhat more level-headed and thoughtful enough to cool down from her previous meltdowns and reflect from them..  

Her sanity also greatly improves upon meeting Ashlen, while she’s still wild and free-spirited, she’s much less unstable and even acts more like a normal person due to her friendship with her and also becomes kinder to others with Ashlen making sure she doesn’t go completely out of control and allowing Amy to reflect on her actions and think before acting.

Savvy Guy, Energetic Girl: Her friends with Shinsou. Full stop. And then of course this can be said for her friendships with both Midoriya and Todoroki.

Serial Killer: She’s killed fifteen people to date, all of them were evil of course, but still. 

Seven Deadly Sins: She seems to have and commit every single one as being with the witches has encouraged her to do as she pleases and embraces the fact that she’s a sinner.

Envy: Amy has shown intense and often irrational resentful and jealous behavior towards people she feels attached to such as Shinsou, Ashlen, Bakugo, Aizawa and Midoriya, and isn’t above deliberately taking their attention away from others by shifting negative attention to herself if for the sake of having their attention.

Gluttony: Among her voracious appetite and tendency to binge-eat, Amy excessively uses her powers and over indulges in hedonism whenever she feels like it.

Greed: Amy displays a selfish attitude by keeping things to herself and isn’t above using her powers against others or her own friends if it means getting something she wants.

Lust: Amy has no shame in showing off her perverted side by making lewd and vulgar comments to her friends or about her friends, frequently gets into heated make-outs with Bakugo and was the first to initiate taking their relationship to the next level.

Pride: Tends to see herself and her fellow witch sisters as superior to humans with quirks because she and the witches can use more than one power.

Sloth: Amy doesn’t enjoy working or putting a lot of effort into her academics or chores as she has her classmates do the work, and even when she does help out she relies primarily on her telekinesis rather than actually doing work by herself.

Wrath: She is partially defined by her unpredictable, vicious temper built from pent-up rage towards the world that she gladly lashes out towards regardless of who’s in the vicinity.

Shameless Fanservice Girl: Subverted as none of her moments are for fanservice even though she has the lack of shame for it. Her lack of shame stems from the fact that she only thinks her chubby body is comical than sexual. 

Shipper on Deck: She loves to pair her friends off with each other, as she cheerfully encourages Kaminari to just try and make moves on Jirou already, much to his great embarrassment. She also thinks Ojiro is perfect with Hagakure since she’s ‘fun’ and he’s ‘no fun at all’. Also, while she started to like Uraraka, she still would rather her not be with Midoriya, and instead thinks she would be cuter with Iida as she states it’s like Cinderellla where the poor girl goes off with the ‘tight-ass rich boy’. And she tells Shinsou that she thinks Tsuyu and Midoriya would be a cute couple.

She also believes that there’s ‘something’ going on between Cordelia and Aizawa, or at least there’s a torch being held for one another.

And when her new best friend Ashlen enters UA, she’s ecstatic when she hears of her crush on Tokoyami and vigorously tells her to go for it. And she’s saddened when he rejects her, but then gladly starts to ship her with Shinsou the moment she senses that he has a crush on her. As they get together, Amy remains their biggest shipper and calls them ‘The Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner’ of 2-A.

Single Woman Seeks Good Man: Damien was one of her first crushes because she was under the impression that he was a kind-hearted individual until he showed his true colors later on and she eventually dumped him when he didn’t get any better. And upon returning to Japan, Midoriya was the one she truly first crushed on, but after an argument her feelings for him quickly dissipated, although they do remain good friends as Amy still has love for him that’s more platonic rather than romantic.

Finally, she started going out with Bakugo when she realized that despite his attitude, she ultimately fell for him because of his devotion to being a hero and turning down the League of Villains offer to join them. Additionally, her feelings for him grew when she started seeing a gentler side to him when he actually listened to her.

Skilled, but Naive: Subverted to Aizawa’s horror when he realizes that unlike Yaoyorozu, while Amy does get overwhelmed during some situations that she’s able to quickly come to a faster solution: murder and fighting dirty. Which ultimately has to do with the fact that while Amy’s still a young girl of only 16-17 and still isn’t really mature, she’s seen enough horrors in her life to know when and how to fight back, even if it means hurting others. 

Amy: (to Aizawa) Heh... you’re the stupid one if you think that I’m stupid like that. 

The Slacker: At times, as stated up above in Sloth, Amy would rather use her telekinesis to do all the work for her rather than actually getting up to use her own two hands. Her laziness is further exemplified in where she shirks chores by either using Concilium to get someone else to do it for her or acting like she can’t do it. And during days when she could be training Amy would rather just watch Netflix and TV, listen to music, eat sweets and drink soda and lie down on the couch.

Slap Slap Kiss: Her and Bakugo are this completely when they get together, Amy even slaps him after their first kiss, only to pull him in to kiss him even more.

Smarter Than You Look: Amy only seems like an oblivious goofball, but she’s actually extremely sly and clever as she knows how to manipulate her opponents, take them by surprise and make them fall into traps. Not to mention, she’s brilliant when it comes to covering up her tracks to go undetected.

Soap-Box Sadie: Amy’s the most politically active student of the Hero Course, frequently does and participates in protests, preaches feminism and body positivity, as well as for the environment, animal-poaching and nature preservation. 

Spoiled Brat: Because of how childish and petulant she is, Amy tends to come across as this which shows as Cordelia and her witch sisters, especially Madison, dote on her and let her have whatever she wants as a means of making up for exposing her to terrible things. Doesn’t help that even her best friend Shinsou tends to enable her and merely tells everyone to simply do what SHE wants as a means to avoid her getting mad. And when Amy doesn’t get what she wants she’s throws fits and tantrums and frequently mouths off to more responsible figures such as Iida or Aizawa when they assert their authority. In fact, she’s so spoiled by her coven that all she has to do is threaten to tell Cordelia on Aizawa to get him to buckle to her demands. However, Amy can and WILL stow this attitude when she realizes that she’s going to cross a line and CAN behave and take an order from Aizawa and Cordelia when it becomes clear to her that they think she’s acting like a brat.

Spoiled Sweet: On the other hand, Amy has no problem sharing the wealth she has from Fiona with her friends and happily spends a lot of money for parties to throw for her friends and buys them expensive gifts including concert tickets and trips around the world. Also, she has no problems with donating to good causes such as for Breast Cancer Awareness, Battered Women’s Shelters, LGBT Youth and for Environmental Conservation. 

Stepford Smiler: She’s both the Depressed type and the Unstable type. Amy smiles to hide her sadness, especially following her parent’s death, but after her experiences with New Orleans, her grins and simpers are to mask her extremely fragile sanity. However, lately her smiles have been used more to hide her depression from her friends.  

The Stool Pigeon: Of the Petty variant. After Aizawa angers her, Amy starts threatening to tell Cordelia on him for whatever he does that she dislikes and because Cordelia is very protective of Amy, and is the strongest witch in the world who can effortlessly destroy him literally and figuratively, he almost always buckles in fear of her.

She’s also the main pot-stirrer in her class as she and Madison have a penchant for gossip as she tattled on Ojiro by telling Hagakure that he has a bit of a crush on her. Then told Iida what Kaminari and Mineta were planning on doing during the girl’s slumber party, which resulted in them getting suspension for a week.

She also provided dirt on Tokoyami for her and Shinsou to gossip about when she sensed jealousy from the latter.

Amy also says that she likes to eavesdrop on her other classmates such as Iida, Jirou and Kirishima so she can gossip about them with Madison.  

Straw Feminist: Amy is a feminist at the core, although sometimes she can go a little too far with her feminism if she’s properly provoked as she has her moments where she thinks boys are the problem in school, and rather harshly tells Midoriya that Eri “needs a woman in her life” when he’s acting too much like a dad. She also once held a protest at UA when Mineta was getting way too out of control and resorted to kicking him and Kaminari in the groins for being ‘disgusting’ rather than correct what they were doing wrong. She does try to correct this however by being less judgmental and hypocritical.

Strong Girl, Smart Guy: Downplayed between her and Shinsou, as Shinsou’s more physically powerful, but Amy’s numerous powers and magic easily make her stronger than he is while Shinsou tends to be more strategic and tactful. Same thing whenever she’s paired with Midoriya. 

Supernatural Gold Eyes: Her light-brown eyes sometimes take on an amber hue which go in tune with her mystical abilities.

Superpower Lottery: She gained her powers quite early for a witch as most witches usually gain their powers at the age of 16-17, but Amy gained her powers when she was only 9 years old and has grown increasingly proficient with them as she manifested 6 of the 7 wonders and her own unique power that manifested from her father’s quirk.

Mind Over Matter: Telekinesis and Psychic Powers. Her most utilized power as she shows nearly advanced mastery in this as she can use it as an aura to physically attack her opponents, as well as to toss them around like ragdolls and also uses this to toss objects at others during battle as she used Todoroki’s own ice against him by taking sharpened icicles to make it rain on him.

Mind Manipulation: Concilium. Much like Shinsou’s Brainwashing, Amy can manipulate and control people into doing things for her or by making them forget everything they witnessed or heard. But unlike Brainwashing, Amy can make her victims remain conscious and doesn’t need to speak to have them fall under her control. Stronger individuals can resist her commands, but usually suffer pain as Amy fries up their brains when they try.

Playing With Fire: Pyrokinesis. Uses fire as an offense attack, and also to taunt Todoroki into using his own fire abilities during their fight at the Sports Festival.

Teleportation. Amy uses this to great effect in combat to dodge attacks from opponents quickly or to surprise attack them.

To Hell And Back: Decensum. She can cross into the afterlife and other planes, and while she doesn’t use this power often, she’s capable of it.

Seers: Divination. Amy couldn’t show off her capability in the test of the 7 wonders due to being unable to perform Vitalum Vitalis but Amy is capable of deriving knowledge about something or someone outside of the use of the physical senses as she can also sense ‘bad juju’ in the vicinity as she felt off before the USJ incident and at the Training Camp.  Amy also can use this ability in scrying to spy on others through the use of water, mirrors and crystal balls.

The Empath. A stronger form of Divination and Amy’s unique power she gained from her father. It allows her to feel the emotions of others around her, while also being able to see their previous or past memories. Amy uses this to great effect as she can sense her friends’ presence and also can use her emotions to strengthen herself or create attacks from her emotions.

Spell Construction. Like many witches, Amy can practice spells and has shown to be able to come up with her own spells, curses, jinxes and all as she used a spell to induce explosions or put someone to sleep.

Potion-Brewing Mechanic. Amy loves to make potions and has made several of them that are used to either heal, improve moods and libido, or to seriously harm and mess up someone’s body.

Super Strength: Sort of. Her physical strength is not innate as Amy is learning how to use her telekinesis to make her punches and kicks stronger without having to actually gain muscle. Also, she can give others super strength too with her telekinesis by adding telekinetic energy to their punches and kicks.

Sweet Tooth: She’s very much into sweets as she just loves chocolate, cookies, ice cream and soda. This often gets exploited by her friends and classmates, as Shinsou and Ashlen have discovered that all they have to do to get her to do something is offer to buy her something sweet and Amy happily does it.

Teens Are Short: She’s only 5′0 and quite small compared to the adult characters, including Cordelia who stands at 5′7 in heels.

Temporarily A Villain: After the culture festival, she goes through a complete meltdown and loses any sense of being reasoned with. Afterwards, she manipulates Aizawa and attacks him, lashes out at other teachers, and knocks them out and puts her classmates under a sleeping spell so she can go around the school and destroy some property out of anger, and finally, beats Midoriya when he tries to subdue her. It’s all in the span of a single day, but she’s slowly brought back down to earth by Shinsou,  Cordelia and All-Might. 

The Three Faces of Eve: She’s the “Child” to Ashlen’s “Mother” and Madison’s “Seductress”.

She was also the “Child” to Cordelia’s “Mother” and Fiona’s “Seductress”.

Then Let Me Be Evil: Hero Society doesn’t have the best view of witches, which is why Amy’s mother had to suppress her powers because she was devoted to protecting her daughter and the innocent people of Japan. However, Amy only realizes this when the pro-heroes, despite being capable of caring and protecting her, refuse and instead send her to America to be with her own kind. This newfound knowledge is what ultimately makes her snap when she realizes that Hero Society will only see her as wicked and unstable, and so she ensures to live up to that when she attacks UA. 

This is For Emphasis, Bitch!: Very fond of adding ‘bitch’ to the end of her sentences whenever taunting someone.

Amy: Don’t underestimate me bitch, I’m a fucking witch!

Tiny Tyrannical Girl: She’s a 5’0 witch, but also one of the more intimidating students of the Hero Course with even her own classmates being too afraid to provoke her.

Toilet Humor: Befitting her immature sense of humor, Amy is very amused by jokes that have to do with bodily functions, fart jokes in particular as she often makes these jokes at Iida simply to embarrass him in class.

Token Evil Teammate: Of the Hero Course students, Amy’s the most self-serving and arguably the least heroic one, and is often made to play the villain in some of the training scenarios, a role she’s all too happy to play. But unlike most other examples, she’s really not that bad, just selfish and prone to being aggressive.

Token Witch: Of UA overall as well as one of the few known witches in Japan attending a school for heroes. 

Tomboy and Girly Girl: While neither she or Ashlen are the conventional Girly Girls and Tomboys, Amy serves more as the Girly Girl to Ashlen’s Tomboy as Amy wears traditionally more feminine apparel such as dresses, skirts, colorful stockings and Mary Jane shoes as well as other chic and glamorous clothing and many of which are black and pink, takes more pride in her appearance, fawns and fangirls over cute boys, enjoys chick flicks, dressing like a princess, going shopping and taking selfies. However, ironically Amy is the one who is much more vulgar, violent and Ax Crazy. 

Took a Level in Jerkass: Amy wasn’t the nicest girl in the beginning but just when she was becoming kinder to her classmates, then the Kamino Ward arc and it made Amy feel patronized by her classmates when they express their concern for her. And then she gets even more incensed after the Shie Hassaikai arc when Eri comes into the picture and earns care and adoption from the pro-heroes, something Amy never received after she lost her parents as she was merely shipped off to America and forced to be cut off from her former friends and family friends. This new information makes her go berserk to the point of lashing out at her classmates and her teachers as she flies into an ultra-tantrum and becomes hostile to others and even fights with and harms Midoriya and Aizawa when they attempt to talk her down and she even leaves the dorms and UA for a while because she couldn’t deal with talking to anyone other than Shinsou. Thankfully, she does slowly get better.

Took a Level in Kindness: After her fight with Midoriya, Amy reflects more on her actions and instead opts to behave for the sake of Shinsou and her witch sisters. Although she does soften up by being around Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido and Sero, as well as Todoroki and Yaoyorozu, and Amy does eventually apologize to the people she’s hurt. She takes a bigger level in her second year when her new best friend Ashlen transfers to UA and Amy decides to be less of an angry person and acts like an even kinder, compassionate person to her classmates and teachers.  

Town Girls: She’s the Femme, Madison’s the Butch and Ashlen’s Neither.

Toxic Friend Influence: Although a good friend to Shinsou, she enables his worse habits and brings out his bitchier side which includes them both relentlessly insulting and pranking Ojiro simply because they both find him boring. And vice-versa, Shinsou’s a good friend to her too, but never tells her the honest truth, enables her bad behavior and would rather just comfort her and make sure she’s happy. 

Trademark Favorite Food: Amy has many favorite foods but she LOVES Spaghetti and often cooks it at home because it’s really the only thing she’s good at cooking. 

Amy’s favorite pizza place is Pizza Hut, as she even takes Shinsou and Ashlen to the place on their first outing as friends as she ate a majority of the buffet while Ashlen and Shinsou watched with slight horror and amusement.

She also LOVES Dr. Pepper, Oreos and cookies. She loves these things so much, all Shinsou has to do is present her one of these treats to get her to do something she doesn’t want to do or to make her feel better when she’s sad. 

Amy: (whining) But I don’t wanna clean... that requires moving... look at my arms... look at my arms Hitoshi, they’re not moving, they’re just not...

Shinsou: (exasperated) I’ll buy you cookies.

Amy: (gets up with more energy) I can move again! 

Tragic Hero: Ultimately, Amy’s own worst enemy is herself. For all that she’s been hurt, betrayed and abandoned by others, her anger issues, instability, self-hatred, selfishness and insecurities are what always lead to self-sabotage and relapsing which risk her any chances of getting better. As shown when she attacks UA, believing she was doing it to prove a point about the hypocrisy of the pro-heroes, when in actuality she did it because she thought it would make her feel better. She leaves the school shortly out of both guilt and lingering resentment towards the heroes and Midoriya. While she does return, it’s only because she couldn’t abandon Shinsou or her new friends, not because she felt obligated to return to the ‘good side’ nor did she end up resolving any of her issues. 

Trauma Conga Line: She goes through a lot in so little time. First, she’s bullied by her peers for supposedly being quirkless, and when she finds out it’s because she’s a witch with multiple powers, she’s ecstatic but that all dissipates fast when witch hunters infiltrate Japan and kill her entire family in front of her. While the pro-heroes rescue her, they then give her over to a coven of witches in New Orleans because they didn’t want to try raising a girl with unstable powers under the excuse that they didn’t want her allies (The Shinsou family) to be put at risk. And then at New Orleans, she has to watch some of her new friends get killed, assaulted, betrayed all within the span of two months. She gets hunted by witch hunters again, participates in a fight with another tribe of witches, getting surrounded by reanimated corpses, murdering the butler, freeing a serial killer’s ghost and lastly, she finds out that one of her new guardians wanted to kill her and everybody else in the coven. Then she loses two sisters she was closest too. It’s no wonder that she went insane afterwards. 

Tres Amigos!: With Shinsou and Ashlen of course. 

Troll: She’s this incarnate. Everything she does is just to get a reaction out of people, but especially Bakugo, Iida and Aizawa. She’s ESPECIALLY this to Shigaraki when she and Bakugo are captured by the League of Villains and despite being threatened with death, Amy continues to taunt him.

Troubling Unchildlike Behavior: Even before she moved to New Orleans she wanted her parent’s murderers to be punished by death and this only worsened upon going to Robichaux with the other witches as she helped Zoe, Queenie and Nan torture Spalding, killed zombies with a shovel a bit too eagerly, partook in the plan to convince Fiona to kill herself for the coven and stabbed the Axe-Man to death with her sisters. All at the age of 11. And she implies that when she was around 12-13 that she also murdered several other people, granted they were mostly rapists, pedophiles and abusers but she also states that she lured them in with her childish looks and tortured them before killing them.

True Companions: She’s a true, blue friend to Shinsou and vice-versa, and they become this with Ashlen as they’re a very close-knit trio of friends who are ride or die. And hilariously enough Amy tends to act as the “child” while Shinsou is the “dad” and Ashlen is the “mom”. 

Amy is also very close and affectionate with her coven, especially Zoe, Madison, Queenie and Misty, as well as her classmates such as Midoriya, Todoroki, Bakugo, Kirishima and Kaminari.

Tsundere: Even after she and Bakugo get on better terms and start a relationship Amy is still snippy towards him as he’s the one who pushes her buttons the most even if she’s a tad bit silly about it. However, for all that they argue and fight, Amy is still in love with him as she is well aware that he’s an asshole, yet she still loves him and gives him plenty of affection, hugs and kisses even as she says how much she’s annoyed by him. 

She’s also one towards Eri as she claims to not care for the girl but after she (mostly) loses her dislike of her she proves her so-called lack of care by giving her toys, candy and singing lessons.  

Similarly, she’s also this to her classmates that she’s not always kindest to such as Iida, Midoriya and Ojiro as she insults them frequently but still does express her care for them nonetheless.

Twitchy Eye: When greatly angered and about to lose what’s left of her remaining sanity, Amy’s eye starts to twitch, which is a sign for others around her to take cover, 

Two Girls and A Guy: In the first year, Amy was often with Madison and Shinsou, also dubbed ‘The Bitch Friends’. But in second year, she and Shinsou become a trio with Ashlen and become ‘The Zombie Trio’.

Two Guys and A Girl: She tends to take this dynamic whenever she’s with Shinsou and Kaminari.

#amy martinez #bnha oc #mha ocs #my hero academia oc #boku no hero academia #ahs #ahs coven #american horror story #american horror story coven #original character #tv tropes

[luckystarphoto]

Sometimes my life is like list

Amy Jeanchaiyaphum May 10 2003

Sometimes my life is like smooth white sand.

Sometimes my life is like a stone smoothed by time and water.

Sometimes my life is like a slow leaky faucet.

Sometimes my life is like a rabbit hiding from a predator.

Sometimes my life is like a comfortable shoe.

Sometimes my life is like and abstraction of another life.

Sometimes my life is like an unwritten film.

Sometimes my life isn't like any other life.

Sometimes my life is like raku pottery glistening colors smelling of oil and smoke.

Sometimes my life is like the aerodynamic iridescence of butterfly wings.

Sometimes my life is like a cocoon.

Sometimes my life is like a Horney baboon.

Sometimes my life is like a roller coaster with no end.

Sometimes my life is like a holiday breakfast grapefruit with sugar and a maraschino cherry on top served cold in a hand made clay bowl.

Sometimes my life is like finding a first Grey hair.

Sometimes my life is like a deep cerulean sea.

Sometimes my life is like thinking you can breathe underwater.

Sometimes my life is like a coconut palm tree.

Sometimes my life is like congee in the morning in a busy alley in Thailand.

Sometimes my life is like a collection of invisible photographs only I can see.

Sometimes my life is like the storytelling cracks in ancient timber.

Sometimes my life is like toads moaning in the rain.

Sometimes my life is like waking up from a nightmare of weeping lepers and a dying mother to the sound of moaning toads.

Sometimes my life is like putting my mother in an oven like a giant chocolate chip cookie in a silky dress.

Sometimes my life is like a pink and blue baby blanket with worn satin edges.

Sometimes my life is like sucking a thumb forever.

Sometimes my life is like an itch wool hat.

Sometimes my life is like an itchy wool sweater made with " LOVE".

Sometimes my life is like my putting on my dad's smelly white motorcycle helmet.

Sometimes my life is like a car driving on water.

Sometimes my life is like an elephant ice-skating.

Sometimes my life is like poodle fur.

Sometimes my life is like a herd of buffalo in South Dakota.

Sometimes my life is like penguins painting in the sun

Sometimes my life is like Floating in space.

Sometimes my life is like a noisy drag race.

Sometimes my life is like Evil Knievel.

Sometimes my Life is like a bonfire in a stone pit.

Sometimes my life is like kitty cat kisses.

Sometimes my life is like the silky seed inside a milkweed pod.

Sometimes my life is like finding a giant agate in a huge dirt pit.

Sometimes I never look at the sky.

Sometimes my life is like seeing the earth from the sky.

Sometimes m Life is like riding in the trunk of a car.

Sometimes my life is like not being picked at all in a roller skating snowball, an own birthday party.

Sometimes my life is like hiding in the curtains and talking about peace in a dodgeball. Game.

Sometimes my life is like being the last one standing in a dodgeball game.

Sometimes my life is like being the last one chosen to be on a team, but not really feeling like taking any part in the team anyway.

Sometimes my life is like a Jackson Pollack painting.

Sometimes my life is like a centerfold ripped in half.

Sometimes my life is like music played by an inexperienced musician.

Sometimes my life is like Perfect music heard in a dream.

Sometimes my life is like an unplayed piano

Sometimes my life is like my mothers Goya guitar.

Sometimes my life is like a cobblestone road.

Sometimes my life is like driving across the Lift Bridge while it's going up.

Sometimes my life is like a circus with too many clowns.

Sometimes my life is like a circus with no clowns.

Sometimes my life is like having a circus in the living room.

Sometimes my life is like a pregnant painted pony.

Sometimes my life is like a prairie sky.

Sometimes m life is like a chandelier growing living grapes flashing with crystal rainbows and light.

Sometimes my life is like an oil lamp.

Sometimes my life is like an unread book.

Sometimes my life is like an owner's manual for a useless appliance.

Sometimes my life is like tripping over nothing.

Sometimes m life is like wearing my grandpa's thick blurry glasses just for fun.

Sometimes my life is like… By A Jeanchaiyaphum Page 3

Sometimes my life is like a hotel.

Sometimes my life is like a ceremony.

Sometimes my life is like a celebration where everyone is included.

Sometimes my life is like a lonely celebration.

Sometimes my life is like a silent moment before a performance.

Sometimes my life is like giving the performance of a like time inspiring everybody and not remembering a thing.

Sometimes my life is like being thirsty on a train between two countries, having a pocket full of money but it isn't the correct currency.

Sometimes m life is like Spray painting on the Berlin wall hoping to leave a mark forever, 6 months before the wall is torn down forever.

Sometimes my life is like a lover waiting.

Sometimes my life is like the end of thirst.

Sometimes my life is like dry blue cheese on dry toast when dehydrated.

Sometimes my life is like a mussel-free from its shell laughing like a maniac and waving goodbye before it jumps down the hole in the train toilet and runs away down the track s of Chur Switzerland.  Hoping to climb the Matterhorn and ski in the Olympics.

Sometimes my life is like finding a severed black braid of a supermodel under a bathroom sink in the home of the man who loved her.

Sometimes my life is like watching a party from under the antique table everyone else is eating at it.

Sometimes my life is like a tablecloth made and dyed in India covered in candle wax wine and curry.

Sometimes my life is like hiding in round rotating clothes rack filled with new clothing at a department store.

Sometimes my life is like turning the page.

Sometimes my life is like coming of age.

Sometimes my life is like sitting next to Jesus in a church pew, having a conversation about love and philosophy, while the rest of the congregation is waiting for you to get saved.

Sometimes my life is like a new creation.

Sometimes my life is like being smoothed by muses.

Sometimes my life is like list By A. Jeanchaiyaphum Page 4

Sometimes my life is like a chained up muse.

Sometimes my life is like Kirchner’s lost hand.

Sometimes my life is like sunburn.

Sometimes my life a vegetarian forced to kill and eat meat.

Sometimes my life is like a vegetarian at a veggie buffet.

Sometimes my life is like sitting on a public bus filled with divine beings.

Sometimes my life is like sliding barefoot on new wet concrete.

Sometimes my life is like the smell of fresh timber in new construction.

Sometimes my life is like a national monument.

Sometimes my life is like the statue of liberty greeting all the new kids.

Sometimes my life is like a national park.

Sometimes my life is like having a surgeon cut your bangs.

Sometimes my life is like a museum.

Sometimes my life is like grading papers with my dad.

Sometimes my life is like having my mom do my homework.

Sometimes my life is like eating stew with long-absent family at grandma's house.

Sometimes my life is like a van with wall to wall carpet.

Sometimes my life is like being a kid with the keys to the candy store.

Sometimes my life is like driving a golf cart with a dying battery while being chased by nasty geese

Sometimes my life is like swimming in the bathtub.

Sometimes my life is like learning to skate on the bumpy pond.

Sometimes my life is like A whale in a china shop.

Sometimes my life is like a recipe

Sometimes m life is like a Rorschach test.

Sometimes my life is like a woolly caterpillar.

Sometimes my life is like fleeing from Pharos.

Sometimes my life is like everybody calling me a witch and wishing they were correct.

Sometimes my life is like release time on the playground

Sometimes my life is like the sound of a giant gong.

Sometimes my life is like an exhibition.

Sometimes my life is like an island in peaceful water.

Sometimes my life is like dragonflies embracing and gliding over the water.

Sometimes my life is like floating on my back in the perfectly warm sea looking up at the perfect sky floating above me.

Sometimes my Fe is like stalking a family of familiar strangers

Sometimes my life is like loving someone deeply and never letting them know.

Sometimes my life is like … 

Sometimes my life is like a fiddler on the roof.

Sometimes my life is like a pancake on the roof.

Sometimes my life is like a portfolio lost in the middle of a freeway.

Sometimes my life is like a magician's kit.

Sometimes my life is like playing with a real doctor's bag.

Sometimes my life is like a slide under a microscope.

Sometimes my life is like an enormous healthy tree.

Sometimes my life is like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon talking to a raven feeling overwhelmed at 30.

Sometimes my life is like detention just for fun.

Sometimes my life is like taking the blame for stealing the book money so the whole class could go home,

Sometimes my life is like living in a magical kingdom.

Sometimes my life is like a glass of tab with a slice of lemon in a glass filled with Ice.

Sometimes my life is like examining how ice forms in the ice cube tray.

Sometimes my life is like watching paint dry.

Sometimes my life is like a house claustrophobic with cigarette smoke.

Sometimes my life is like the smell of red wine and cigars.

Sometimes my life is like playing dress up with friends.

Sometimes m life is like a blessing.

Sometimes my life is like the life of a sheepdog trapped in a human body.

Sometimes my life is like an upside down yoga pose.

Sometimes my life is like an undiscovered treasure.

Sometimes my life is like dipping hands in wax while my nose is dripping.

Sometimes my life is like making gods eyes out of yarn.

Sometimes my life is like building haunted houses with my brother.

Sometimes my life is like quitting a play because the role wasn't big enough.

Sometimes my life is like selling painted rocks and lemonade.

Sometimes my life is like playing forever.

Sometimes my life is like flying to the moon in a lazy boy chair.

Sometimes my life is like singing to deer in the Forrest.

Sometimes my life is like mining for diamonds.

Sometimes my life is like leftover pieces made into a quilt.

Sometimes my life is like pulling the stuffing out of upholstery through a little hole.

Sometimes m life is like playing shipwreck in a library.

Sometimes my life is like coaxing snails out of their shells.

Sometimes my life is like, page 6

Sometimes my life is like an embracing secret admiration.

Sometimes my life is like gearing exactly what I want.

Sometimes my life is like an invention.

Sometimes my life is like a sweat lodge sometimes my life is like a close encounter. Sometimes my life is like a POW wow.

Sometimes my life is like the smell of broiled steak.

Sometimes my life is like a well-furnished trailer.

Sometimes my life is like a hand made bunk bed painted cheese whiz yellow?

Sometimes my life is like making friend with my turds before I have to flush them.

Sometimes my life is like talking to inanimate objects.

Sometimes my life is like the ripped out pages of a journal.

Sometimes my life is like having some on read my journal and publish it and not real y caring.

Sometimes my life is like Et hiding in the mound of stuffed animals.

Sometimes my life is like preparing and waiting for Santa Claus and not being able to starry up all night then waking up to find that he has been there and given more than you ever expected.

Sometimes my life is like finding out who really did that and made that real.

Sometimes my life is like helping out knowing the truth but waking up with exactly the same feeling.

Sometimes my life is like a perfectly produced holiday special celebrations.

Sometimes my life is like eating crab legs and drawn butter for 5 weeks straight.

Sometimes my life is like the Easter bunny showing up and hiding eggs in my Jewish grandparent's house.

Sometimes my life is like a room full of trophies.

Sometimes my life is like pop bottles on the back stairs.

Sometimes my life is like seeing the skeleton paper in my grandmother's closet.

Sometimes my life is like an attic full of everything you could ever need.

Sometimes my life is like healing.

Some times my life is like boo rock.

Some times my life is like believing my dad really could find cookies in my ears.

Sometimes my life is like an albatross. Sometimes my life is like a silent phone call. Sometimes my life is like a sitcom.

Sometimes my life is like the smell of dad's helmet.

Sometimes my life is like going down the rapids in a boat driven by strangers.

Sometimes my life is like…. 

Sometimes my life is like knowing all the secrets and keeping them.

Sometimes my life is like Chocolate ice cream on the back of a bicycle.

Sometimes my life is like riding into Sa tree your first time out.

Sometimes my life is like opening a gift.

Sometimes my life is like jumping a motorcycle over a dirt pit to impress someone, and after succeeding realizing that no one saw you do it at all.

Sometimes my life is like being lazy to wait.

Sometimes my life is like a road trip.

Sometimes my life is like  

#life is like repetitive poem journal

[sorenmarie87]

All Aboard The Briarcliff Express

Pairing: Sam x Reader

3 Squares Filled: Homeless AU + Traveling + Huddling for Warmth Word Count: 3,154

Warnings: running Away, John being an asshole, some sadness, childhood crushes, a few references to my favorite season of AHS (see if you can catch them) A/N: This is my first fic for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​‘s  9 Squares - 3 Fics Challenge.  Don’t worry - there will be a second part! <3  I once again need to thank @fictionalabyss​ for looking this over for me.   Forever Tags - @lovetusk @dragongirl420 @mirajanefairytailmage @kazosa @soythedemonqueen

SPN Tags - @clockworkmorningglory 

The railroads were your home from the time you were a child up until your twenty first birthday when your father unexpectedly passed away.  Your father was the conductor of the Briarcliff Express, one of the world’s most luxurious passenger trains out there.  

“Y/N!”  You heard your father bellow but you were absorbed into the book you were reading to hear him approach.  “Y/N seriously girl - you gotta answer when I call for ya.”  

Frowning, you placed your book off to the side and looked over at him.  “I’m sorry pa, what’s up?”  

“Have you eaten yet?”  He folded his arms when you shook your head no. “You have to eat baby girl, your mother would kill me if she found out you were skipping meals.”  

“Fine.”  You muttered as you picked up your book and your way towards the dining cart.  You would occasionally glance over at the passengers as you walked by - happy families, newly weds, older couples, but no one your age really.  You sighed as the door in front of you slides open, and you notice how packed it is.

You take a few steps towards the counter and sit down on one of the stools.  Placing your book beside you on the counter, you glance at another passenger and then notice that Kit is working today.  You grin to yourself as you watch him work.  Your face flushed as he turns around to take your order.  

“Your pa sent you to get something to eat right?”

“Of course he did.  He even used the mom card.”  You sighed as Kit quietly chuckled.  Kit was the only person that worked for your father that knew your family history - how your mother was the victim of a hit and run, and they never caught the guy who did it.  The first few months, your father was distraught so he threw himself into work.  He worked his way up and eventually made enough money to purchase the current train the two of you resided on.  The train was your home but you were a very lonely child.

Kit was putting the finishing touches on your breakfast when you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye.  He placed two containers of french toast in front of you and some bottled water.  You gave Kit your thanks and he winked at you, before moving onto the next customers.  Gathering everything up,  you made your way to a secluded spot on the train that you dubbed as yours.

You opened the first container when you heard a noise that sounded like someone's stomach was growling.  It was until you heard a small voice telling it to be quiet that you knew you were not alone.  “Hey if anyone is hiding in here, you can come out - I won't bite.”  You heard some shuffling but when he peeked his head out, you gasped.

“I'm sorry I snuck on without a ticket but you can't tell anyone I'm here.”

“Whoa kid, chill okay, I'm not going to tattle on you.”  He stood up and you got a good look at him.  He had short brown hair, and hazel eyes that were looking everywhere but not towards you at all.  “What's your name anyways?”

You saw his cheeks flush as he looked at you.  “My name's Sam.  Sam Winchester.”  

You smiled as you held out the other container of food and the extra bottle of water.  “I could hear your stomach growling and I bet you haven't eaten in a while if it's making that much noise.”  

“You're giving this to me?”

“Duh.  I'm Y/N by the way… sorry forgot my manners for a second there.”

“Thanks for the food Y/N.”  The two of you ate in companionable silence.  You occasionally glanced over at Sam, and just watched him as he ate.  You rarely had the opportunity to talk with anyone your age but when Sam caught you staring, your face flushed and you picked at the fruit that came with your breakfast.  “Is there something on my face?”

“It's nothing.  I didn't mean to stare.”

“So there's nothing on my face?”

“It’d be weird if you had no face Sam, actually that'd be kind of creepy.”

“You're weird Y/N, you know that?”

You actually grinned at that.  “You're not the first person to tell me that.”

--

You couldn't sleep.  There was something bothering you about Sam and all you were doing was tossing and turning.  You threw back your covers with a huff and put on your house slippers.  You were definitely worried about how Sam was doing.  You slipped out of your room and made it through the other cars as quietly as you could.  You reached the final car - one before the caboose and started calling out for him.  It wasn't until you heard some rustling that you knew you Sam was awake.

“What's wrong Y/N?”  

“I couldn't sleep because I was worried about you.”

Sam's face flushed as he glanced over at you.  “You don't have to worry about me.  I'm fine back here..”

“Are you really though?” You were running your thumb over the top of your fingernails.  “Don't you want to sleep in a real bed?”

“Are you offering?” You flushed at his question and nodded in response.  “Thank you for the offer.  I mean it's really sweet of you but wouldn't I get caught?”

“I didn't think of that.  Wait a few minutes okay? I'll be right back.”  Sam was going to reply but you sprinted off.  He yawned as his eyes drooped when the door was thrown back and your arms were full.  You asked Sam to stand up for a few seconds as you laid one of the blankets down on the floor, and a few pillows as Sam dropped back down on the pallet you just made up.

You started to step away when Sam reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Please don't leave Y/N.  I don't want to be alone.”  

“I won't leave okay.”  You unfolded the other blanket and put it around the two of you.  Sam curled into your side and you brushed away a stray hair from his forehead.  “I am curious though about something - why are you by yourself?”

“I got into a screaming match with my dad so I figured it would be easier for him if I wasn't there anymore.  We were staying at a hotel in Detroit and when I found the train station, I noticed the side door on the caboose was open.”

“How did you hide yourself so that no one found you?”

“I'm kind of small if you haven't noticed.”  You gasped in surprise and he chuckled.  Your head drooped onto Sam's shoulder as you felt your eyes close.  The two of you slept through the night and it wasn't until a beam of sunlight hit you directly in the face, that you realized what had happened.  

--

It had been a day since Sam had stormed out of the hotel they were currently staying at and Dean was worried.  It was the same old argument but he knew Sam had a point.  Nothing was going to change unless John got the help he needed.

“Where'd your brother go?  We're leaving soon and we can't leave without him.”

“I don't know actually, he never came back.”

“Have you actually looked for him?”

“I checked the school and the library - no one has seen him.”

“Damn it Dean, you're supposed to look after him!”  Dean felt his right hand ball up and he clenched his fist.  Everytime John and Sam argued, Dean was somehow brought into it - like it was his fault.  

“You're the adult here - so technically it's your job to look after us. I'll go check the library and school, AGAIN.  Our stuff is already packed and in the car so I'll call when I'm done.”

John slumped in the chair and put his head in his hands.  There was an open bottle of whiskey on the table, and instead of taking a giant swig like he wanted, John picked it up and he threw it against the wall.  

He heard the room phone ringing and Dean had some good news.  It seems someone matching Sam's description had made his way towards the train station.  He found out the train Sam snuck on was making its way towards South Dakota, he slammed the phone down and made his way out to the Impala.  John knew that if Sam was heading towards South Dakota, that meant he could possibly be heading toward Bobby’s.  He pulled up in front of the train station where Dean was waiting for him.  It was going to be a 15 hour car ride but it was going to be worth it when the three of them were together again.

--

You spent all of your time hanging out with Sam.  He told you more about his family and you shared your family history with him.  There was something about Sam that made you trust him and you wanted to share everything you could with him.  There was no way someone wouldn't be looking for him, so you were treasuring all the time you had with him.

You had your hands behind your back as you made your way towards the caboose.   Gripping the bag tighter, you grinned when you saw Sam reading.

“Wanna help me something?” You jiggled the bag and Sam glanced up at you.  “Kit -”

“The guy who works on the food cart?”

“Yep, that's him.  He has a love/hate relationship with aliens because of his wife, so,”  You pulled a small grey figure out of the bag and handed it to him, “I want to decorate his counter with these.”  You saw him grin and you knew he was in.  

The two of you had to nail this so it would go exactly as you planned it.  You knew that Kit always took a break between 4 and 5 each day, just before dinner started getting served.  The two of you would work to cover as much of the counter as you could before Kit returned.  There was just one snag in the whole plan, as the two of you were laying the figures down to cover the counter, you heard your father enter the dining car and with his arms crossed he called out to you.

“Y/N M/N L/N! I won't ask what your doing because I want to see how this turns out.  However!  Who the hell is that?” You saw him point to Sam and everything fell to pieces.    

“Pa, this is Sam Winchester..”

“Fine name son, now why is he here?”

“He sort of ran away from home and stowed away while we were picking up passengers in Detroit.”  You saw your father take a seat on one of the nearby stools.  He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to figure out what he was going to do.  

“Okay, okay what we'll do, son, is there's an empty room next to Y/N’s.  We'll keep you there so you don't freeze and no one will catch you this way.  Now Sam when we get to South Dakota is there anyone you can call to come get you?”

“Yeah my uncle lives in Sioux Falls, so I can call him.”

“Do you have anything with you?”

“Not really sir.”  

“It's fine, son.  I like this boy Y/N, he's polite.”  You chuckled as Sam stood next to you and smiled sheepishly.  You squeezed his hand gently as the three of you made it down the train corridor.  You pointed out  where your room was and Sam was going to be staying the room next to yours.

You heard a scream coming from the dining car and the three of you burst out laughing.  “I guess Kit found our surprise.”

--

Sam heard your muffled cries and yelling through the wall, so he got up and made his way to your room.  He gently knocked on the door before entering.  It wasn't until you called out Sam’s name and popped up that he made his way over to you.  You were still crying as he sat down next you on the bed and drew you in for a hug.  “I'm right here Y/N, don't you worry.  Whatever happened, it was just a nightmare.”

“It felt so real Sammy.”  You sniffled and shifted, so that Sam could lay down next to you.  He drew you into his arms and you curled into his chest.  That's how the two of you stayed for the rest of the night.  

By the time the morning came, you didn't want to let go of Sam.  You were watching his chest rise and fall as his eyes slowly opened, a blush started to form on your face when you realized you were watching him sleep.  

“So today's the day huh?”  You heard a knock on your door and when it slowly opened, the two of you broke apart.

“We'll be arriving in about half an hour.  Sam you can take a shower in my quarters and there's a change of clothes in there as well.”  You heard Sam's quiet ‘thank you’ as he made his way out of your room.  

“I should be upset that my little girl had a boy in her bed, but I know it would do me no good to get upset.  He's leaving today and I know how much you care about him.”

“It's only been a day pa.”  You scoffed but yet your cheeks betrayed you.  He chuckled as he pulled you in for a hug.

“It'll work itself out in the end baby girl.”  He kissed the crown of your head and left you alone.  You took the opportunity to get changed while you were alone.  You grabbed your polaroid from one of your shelves and made your way towards the dining car.

“I can't wait to tell Alma about your prank.  She'll get a kick out of it I’m sure.”  

You smiled and when Sam joined you, the two of you talked until you heard your father's voice over the speaker.  “We will be approaching out destination in a few minutes. Thank you for choosing the Briarcliff Express for your trip.  We hope for your continued patronage and we hope to see you for future trips.”  You heard the train come to a complete stop and you sighed.  This would be the last time you saw Sam, that's why you grabbed your camera.  Sam grabbed your hand, and you laced your fingers with his.  The train wouldn't be leaving for an hour, so you would wait with Sam while he waited for his uncle.  

“There's a phone right there.”  You pointed at the payphone as Sam made his way towards it.  Sam sighed as he picked the phone off the reciever and dialed Bobby’s number.

“Hey Bobby, it’s me Sam.  If it’s possible can you come pick me up?  I’m at the train station in Sioux Falls.  It’s a long story but I got into with dad and sort of ran away.”

Bobby sighed as he shuffled some papers around looking for his keys.  “Of course, I’ll there in about 15 minutes okay?”

“Thanks Bobby.”  Sam hung up the phone and made his way back over to you.  You had your camera open and grinned when he came back to sit by you.  “I’ve been meaning to ask what’s up with the camera?”  

You held it out as far as you could and told Sam to smile.  Once one picture was taken, you handed it to him and he shook it.  “That’s for you.  We probably won’t see each other again, so I wanted something to remember you by.”  

“Well it’s not fair that I get a picture and you don’t.”  He snagged the camera from you, and being cheeky when he was getting ready to take the picture, you leaned further in and kissed his cheek.  You heard the camera go off and when he handed you back the camera he blushed.  “Hey do you wanna swap pictures?”

“You want the reminder that a pretty girl kissed you don’t you?”  You joked as his cheeks turned pink.  “Oh ho I was right.”  The two of you continued talking and you nudged Sam when you saw a car pull up and Bobby got out.  “I guess this is goodbye..”  

“It’s not goodbye Y/N, we’ll see each other again or at least I hope we will.”  He pulled you in for a hug and when tears started to fall down Sam’s cheek, you took the initiative and kissed him on the lips.  

The two of you pulled apart as Sam walked towards Bobby, you slowly made your way back towards the train.  There was a side window that you could still see the two of them from and when you knocked on it, Sam looked up and you waved with tears in your eyes.  The train slowly starts moving again and you were still waving as hard as you could.  Sam takes a few steps towards the platform, and he’s momentarily stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.  

"Sam-"

"That’s the first real friend I’ve had my whole life and I'll never see her again!" He yells before he takes off running after the train. He runs until he reaches the end of the platform and falls to his knees.  Bobby’s heart breaks for Sam as he watches the train disappear in the distance, and when Sam pulls himself up off the ground and makes his way towards Bobby’s car,  he pulls the boy in for a hug while Sam cries.

“Let it out son, okay.”  He managed to get Sam in the car but he was looking away from Bobby  and glancing down at the polaroid of the two of you as they pulled out of the parking lot.  It was a fifteen minute drive back to his house and Bobby couldn’t wait to get a drink.  When they reached the house, Bobby noticed Sam was out cold.  He sighed as he picked the younger boy up and moved him to one of the rooms upstairs.  

Bobby was in the kitchen making dinner when he heard someone pull in his driveway.  He hears the knock on his front door and Bobby is ready to rip John a new one.  Bobby asks if Dean will wake up Sam up since dinner is almost done.  Dean heads upstairs - knowing he doesn’t want to get involved with whatever is about to happen.  

"John Winchester, now you listen to me, you damn idjit..."

“Save it Bobby, I know.”  He sighs as he takes a seat at the kitchen table.  

“Just stay the night and head out in the morning okay?”

“Yeah thanks Bobby.”

#9 squares for 3 fics challenge #Sam x Reader #Sam Winchester x Reader #sam winchester x you #sam x you #reader insert #Sam #Sam Winchester fic #SPN #SPN fic

[ktvstheworld]

Today was my turn back on Polka - I feel like it's been forever since I rode him last! 😂 Dakota had a lesson on Sunday and is back for another one tomorrow, so today I gave Poke a schooling session to sharpen him up a bit - and reinforce what Dakota has been working on. . Because he's quite lazy by nature, we've been focusing on getting him more forward - but with less effort from the rider! 😎 This is going to make him a much easier horse to ride, and it's also going to mean we can start refining his work and training some fun movements. It will also help make him an even more reliable and adjustable jumping horse! 💪🚀 . Really happy with his ride today - he was an absolute star, and genuinely worked his butt off! 🌟 He has a real 'wow' trot that's just dying to come out, and today he gave me a few little sneak peeks of it, which is super exciting! Can't wait to go cheer him on at some clinics and comps this year! 💕🐎🌟 . Big love always, Katie xx 😘 . #sportaloosa #appaloosa #warmblood #spottedwarmblood #clydiecross #dressageappaloosa #appy #blanketappaloosa #dressage #dressagehorse #lemieux #lemieuxnavy #dressur #pferd #dressurpferd #dressuurpaard #showhorse #hunterhack #spottedhorse #showjumper #showjumping #eventing #equestrianlife #equestrian #dressagerider #dressagetraining #ridinglesson #warmbloodsofinstagram #horsetraining #equestrianblogger (at KRequestrian) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9RFHOaHoyD/?igshid=1obh71m9sq1s4

#sportaloosa #appaloosa #warmblood #spottedwarmblood #clydiecross #dressageappaloosa #appy #blanketappaloosa #dressage #dressagehorse #lemieux #lemieuxnavy #dressur #pferd #dressurpferd #dressuurpaard #showhorse #hunterhack #spottedhorse #showjumper #showjumping #eventing #equestrianlife #equestrian #dressagerider #dressagetraining #ridinglesson #warmbloodsofinstagram #horsetraining #equestrianblogger

[90jeduardo-blog]

https://secondhandhounds.org/dog/15111255/ Sami D191685 Terrier / Australian Cattle Dog/Blue Heeler / Mixed (short coat) / Female / Adult Details about Sami D191685 ID D191685Available for AdoptionDogBrindleCoatlength: ShortActivity Level: ModerateGood with Dogs: YesGood with Adults: AllReaction to New People: Friendly More about Sami D191685 Energy Level: ModerateIndoor/Outdoor: Indoor Only Name: Sami Age: 18 months Gender: Female Breed: Terrier / Australian Cattle Dog Weight: 27 lbs Dog friendly: Yes Cat friendly: TBD Kid friendly: TBD House Trained: TBD Crate Trained: TBD Energy level: Moderate History: From a reservation in South Dakota Adoption Fee: $400  From the Foster: Hello. I'm Sami and I've only been in my "foster home" for a week.  I'm just about the sweetest pup you'll meet (according to everyone who meets me).  I am people and dog friendly--haven't met any kids yet but I'm looking forward to it!  I love everybody! My Foster Mom says I have pretty good manners for a dog that was living outside for awhile.  I know "sit" and "no" and am working on not jumping up.  I "wait" for my food to be served (Now THAT'S manners!).  I walk on a leash very well. I like to go for car rides but am good about being left home in "my room" when I have to be.  So far, I've been left alone for 4 hours with no incidents!  I don't really have any unusual quirks but I have a couple of things I'm learning; "Only chew my chew toys" and "Go potty outside".  So far, I haven't actually chewed up any of Mom's shoes--just carried them around with me. I already know to use a potty pad if I have to go in the house.  And it's only been a week! I am always willing to go outside but don't always potty when I'm out there. Like I said, things to learn.  I love to run really fast (Mom calls me a speed demon)  when I'm in a safe fenced in area but I'm also a bit of a couch potato at home. I like a balance of the two.  I feel so lucky to have been rescued just before the weather turned so cold!  Now I just need to find my forever home. . . . . #adoptnobuy #refugioanimal #adoptar #adopta #dog #cat #aanimalsanctuary #animalshelter #donate #adoption #adoptions #dog #puppy #adoptme #a https://www.instagram.com/p/B50qMaqAO3U/?igshid=473xw1l1bnp1

#adoptnobuy #refugioanimal #adoptar #adopta #dog #cat #aanimalsanctuary #animalshelter #donate #adoption #adoptions #puppy #adoptme #a

[thebaytobroadway]

Finding Balance

From auditions, dance classes and workshops with casting directors to meetings, compliance training and status reports, Im trying to find the right balance. The secret sauce, if you will. And let me tell you, it's HARD! Balancing the business world with the world of art (which, by the way is a business, and the product is me), and everything else in life is challenging. I'm feeling the strain lately as I go from taking Dougie out to exercising. I ride the train or bus an hour to an audition or coaching, I sing, I work on my lines, I prep for auditions and callbacks, and then finally end up at a cafe to boot up my computer and get work done, coordinate meetings and accomplish some things before calling it quits. Some days are long. Commuting takes longer in the snow or cold for some reason and winter here has been extremely unpredictable. I try to make time for friends, spend time working on myself through meditation, eating healthy, etc. I date...(side note, dating in 2017 sucks!). My life is incredibly full in all the best ways and I still can't help but wonder, am I doing enough in all the elements of my life? I'm single and hyper aware of that fact, am I social enough? I have gotten a few new opportunities for shows and I'm going out on auditions but is this effort going to pay off? My day job is incredible and I want to provide the highest quality of service as possible, am I giving them enough? John Mayer has a song "Why Georgia" with the lyric "am I living it right?" And I think that's where I'm at right now. Wondering if it's all just going to fall into place and reveal itself soon, or if I just keep going and only in hindsight will I truly see the progress, effort and payoffs. I miss my family and friends in the Bay so much sometimes it hurts. But still, I owe it to myself to stay true to this path and this dream and find the balance. So, when I start to question if I'm living it right, I try to think of the alternative. What would I be doing if I wasn't here? I'd probably be doing well at work, doing community and regional theatre on the side. Maybe I'd travel with girlfriends, maybe I'd have a man and hopefully I would be content with my life close to friends and family. But I wouldn't have had the experience of living in New York City. This place with a heart beat so strong you can't help but dance to the rhythm as you walk down the crowded streets. I wouldn't have learned to develop my body, my instrument in a way that is tremendously satisfying. My voice is so strong, my body is in good shape and I enjoy the constant challenge of getting better at my craft! If I stayed in Cali, I would never have traveled this country with Mamma Mia! I would have never seen places like Montana, South Dakota, Ohio, Vermont, Georgia. I wouldn't have experienced all the sunsets, rolling hills, vast plains, mountains or the beautiful people. I wouldn't have had to save, plan and rise to the challenge of having my own place in a city that never sleeps and rent prices are no exception. I would never have met incredible friends like LaShawn, Luke, and Ali. People who are genuine and kind and who understand what this challenge is like and they stay anyway. Dreamers. I would never have found "Sing for Hope" a non profit organization that sends volunteer artists into the community to uplift the sick, elderly, and youth of the five boroughs through art. I would never have experienced a new community here with the man at the grocery store who always says hello and asks me if I need help with anything. My neighbors who are good, honest people and they love Dougie and don't complain about my singing every day! The people at the coffee shop who recognize me as the girl who dances to the tunes they play and orders an almond milk latte when she's feeling fancy (which lately has been quite often)! New York is hard. Finding balance is hard. This career causes a lot of heartache, as do many of the pathways we choose. But in the end. It is worth every second, every tear, every bead of sweat and every ounce of energy. I'm forever grateful to those who have helped make this possible for me. My teachers, mentors, directors, bosses, parents, choreographers, friends, people I follow on Instagram for inspiration (and now Twitter!), and even the guy on the 3rd floor who always calls me a "movie star" (in a non-creepy-sounds-like-a-grandpa-or-old-uncle kinda way) when I'm headed out. These compliments happen a lot when I'm on my way to a date or to an audition, which can I tell you, is a MAJOR confidence boost! All these people are propelling me forward little by little, step by step. They're showing me the path and I'm faithful they're leading me in the right direction. So, even today at 3:30am when I was woken up because my bathroom ceiling was leaking, through the light fixture and I thought to myself, "this is NOT good." I realize these are just mini hurdles I'm well equipped to handle. Thank God (and Bryan) this building is 10 times better than my last one and within 30 minutes the super had answered his phone and gone upstairs to stop the water and start fixing whatever their problem was and ultimately will fix mine. By the way, having your ceiling leak is just one way short people can get a light bulb replaced when they can reach to change it, even with a stool! 😉 But seriously, overall I feel glad to be here even though there are significant ups and downs. Balance is hard. I'm sure we all feel the strain one way or another. But we've got to keep our eye one the prize. Savor the good times and learn from the challenges life throws our way. Living in the present, acknowledging when I'm sad and accepting what is, are my tactics to get over the hurdles. So far, after writing it all down, I think I'm living it right. What about you?

#spreadjoy17 #lovejustlove #balancedlife #nyc #actorslife

[freeonlinecours-blog]

Steal the Thunder

New Post has been published on https://ecoursesfree.com/awesome/steal-the-thunder/

Steal the Thunder

On the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, you hear it again and again: “There will never be another Hermis Tall.”

Hermis was the greatest Indian relay rider of his generation, a natural horseman who led a team of Oglala Lakota to three consecutive championships at the sport’s marquee event, held every summer in Sheridan, Wyoming. The sight of him thundering bareback across the finish line–astride a 1,200 -pound thoroughbred, shirtless, his chiseled physique glistening with sweat–will forever be ingrained in the minds of his teammates, friends, and contenders. His squad, known as the Brew Crew( a nod to the last name of their captain, Stan Brewer ), racked up a remarkable 19 wins during the summer of 2015 alone, attaining them Indian relay’s dominant force-out, the subject of resentment and occasional bitternes over Hermis’s aggressive riding tactics.

There’s no reason to resent Hermis Tall anymore. His painting is now attached to a wooden cross, marking his grave site on a lonely, windswept reservation bluff. He lies next to his brother Earl , not far from the overcrowded household trailer where he grew up and lived for most of their own lives, much of which he spent on horseback.

Hermis may be gone, but the story he started isn’t over. It’s the story of the team he left behind, of their struggle to overcome sorrow and adversity on and off the track, and of their attempt to once again find glory in the powerful union of man and horse.

Steals the Thunder, a brown and white paint horse, and his 25 -year-old rider, Brian Beetem, are a blur as the jockey whips around the far turn at the county fairgrounds in Sheridan. The horse’s muscles glisten in the rising sunshine as Brian, an Oglala Lakota who’s riding bareback, crosses the finishing line, slowing to a trot under the gaze of Stan Brewer.

Brew Crew rider Sylvan Brown( Nate Bressler)

On this mid-July morning in 2018, with the Bighorn Mountains jutting into scattered clouds beyond the countries of the western grandstands, Brian is exerting ponies that the Brew Crew brought here from Pine Ridge. The riders are getting ready to compete in the Indian relay championship in Sheridan–a race widely regarded as the sport’s world championship–which starts tonight as one of the purposes of a major western event, the Sheridan WYO Rodeo.

Stan, 28, is a Lakota tribe member who’s been riding for nearly as long as he was able to walk. He’s joined in Sheridan by his wife, Ella, and their two boys–his “road warriors”–Parker, three, and Kye, seven months.

Records of Indian relay racing can be found in early-2 0th-century western newspapers, though Native American tradition suggests that the sport goes back much further. At the start, jockeys stand beside the first of three horses that they’ll mount and ride for one lap each. Generally, five teams compete at the same day, which entails there can be a wild jumble of horses and men on the way.( Three teammates are responsible for controlling the waiting relay horses and helping with the often frantic dismounts .) At one point during this week, an announcer will try to describe the anarchic quality of the races over the rodeo’s Pa system. “Nothing is certain in Indian relay, ” he’ll say in a Wyoming drawl. “The only thing certain is that the sun will rise in the east and set in the west.”

Teams can earn up to $10,000 for winning, but these races offer something more valuable. For the Brew Crew, and for most of the 20 Native American squads that travel to Sheridan from reservations in all the regions of the Great Plains and Rocky Mountains, the events offer an escape from the stress of reservation life. “You race for the love and hope to break even, ” Stan says.

The day before, Stan loaded their own families, three teammates, and five horses into a truck and trailer for the five-hour drive from Pine Ridge to Sheridan. Stan’s kids were well-behaved as they traversed the lonely Powder River Basin, though Parker’s demands to listen to John Cena’s WWE entrance theme on recur virtually drove Ella crazy. “I am so over that sung, ” she says with a chuckle. Still, it was an easy commute by the standards of Indian relay, where ten-hour drives are common.

Hermis Tall racing in Sheridan, in 2014( Sheridan Press/ Justin Sheely)

Once the teams reached Sheridan, a familiar weekend ritual began, with pony trailers pulled by large pickups rumbling onto the backstretch of the fairground. The better teams typically have better trucks; some of the second-tier participants arrive dragging rickety trailers that somehow built it all the route from reservations scattered across the Dakotas, Montana, and Washington.

During the race, Stan will stay with his family at the no-frills Bramble Motel. But most of the male challengers will sleep on cots in horse trailers lined up along the track’s backstretch. As the sunshine arcs down, the scene is like a football tailgate, the smell of grilling burgers and hot dog wafting through the twilight air.

Gilbert Ecoffey, burly and with a booming voice, goes by the name G.W. He’s a lifelong friend of Stan’s and arguably the most successful horse trainer on Pine Ridge.( Over the summer, he’ll clear $50,000 in Wyoming and Nebraska from conventional racing–the more familiar events in which ponies and jockeys are loaded into a fixed starting gate .) G.W. espouses the demanding routines of caring for his dozen or so horses, in part because not long ago his life was a downward spiraling of substance abuse. He bottomed out in 2015, when he was sentenced to 15 months at the Rapid City Community Work Center on a drug-possession charge.

“If I didn’t have a horse to wake up to every day, who knows where I would be, ” he says. “Horses heal people–they are my sobriety. They understand and communicate with you, even if they can’t talk.” G.W.’s work back home starts before dawn, when he makes his style down a muddy mound from his trailer to the stable. “I could be having the worst day ever, but when I get in the barn the worries go away, ” he says.

There’s no famine of fret on Pine Ridge, home to sweeping plains, rugged beauty, and crushing poverty. Encompassing an area roughly the size of Rhode Island and Delaware combined, Pine Ridge is beset by high unemployment (8 0 percentage, according to some estimates ), rampant substance abuse, periodic waves of child suicide, and a life expectancy in the sixties. Calls to 911, which sometimes take an hour to respond to because of the vast distances, pile up on top of each other as the undermanned tribal police race from one emergency to the next.

The Brew Crew haven’t been immune. Stan tells me about the loss of two riders to suicide and another to prison. G.W. says Stan “has had a bad go with riders, ” which to him is ironic, since Stan is “the most sober guy I know.” G.W ., 30, considers him a role model, even though Stan is younger.

Race action during the Indian relay world championship in Sheridan, Wyoming( Nate Bressler)

Stan is a full-time rancher, juggling the responsibility for 200 head of cattle of his own with the work he does on a larger reservation spread, all before he can “sneak in some relay training at the end of the day.” Horsemanship is in his genes, going back to a time when the Lakota wandered free, as legendary hunters and warriors predominating a vast region from the Badlands in the east to the Bighorn Mountains in the west.

Stan takes pride in continuing this legacy, and he procures peace in traditional Lakota practices like visiting a sweat lodge and participating in the Sun Dance every summer. Stan didn’t want to discuss the specifics of the Sun Dance, partly because it’s considered sacred, but the ritual reportedly involves fasting, intense prayer, daily sweats, and excruciating barbed pierces of the chest. Stan says it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done but adds that the ordeal is a small sacrifice compared with people “who experience pain every day when they wake up.”

Horse races are another connection to these traditional ways, but Indian relay isn’t just a quaint nod to history, like Civil War reenactment. It’s also an exciting competition. Stan’s father, Stan Sr ., sets it best: “They should show Indian relay on TV before the Kentucky Derby, so people could see how fucking bearing that is compared to this.”

The 20 teams in Sheridan will compete in four qualifying heats, featuring five teams each, on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday night. Their combined hours will be used to determine who races in the championship and succour hots on Saturday.

The Brew Crew arrived here a bit of turmoil. A few weeks ago, Sylvan Brown, the team’s best rider, cease after Stan screamed at him for participating in a dangerous local backcountry race despite being told not to. Stan replaced him with Brian Beetem, who has the short stature and wiry construct of a gate-race jockey, which can be a handicap in relay. Taller riders have an easier day mounting ponies, and bigger, stronger riders can more easily bring their horses to a stop during exchanges.

Still, the Brew Crew have a solid first night in Sheridan. With Brian riding–and with Stan and two of his teammates, Tre Goings and Will Brewer, holding and “mugging, ” or catching the pony while the rider dismounts–the team finishes behind River Road, from the Crow Agency, and is in fourth place overall.

The next day, Stan and G.W. get their teams going early. There’s something enchanting about daybreak at the track, with the smell of manure nearly sweet in the fresh morning breeze. Stan is always eager to be among the first to run the horses, but especially so today, because he’s looking forward to taking Ella, Parker, and Kye to a water park, to escape the afternoon hot before the evening’s races.

After the morning chores are done, the backstretch grows quiet as some nap and others head for township. By afternoon the way is buzzing again, with the teams and their families converging on the horse barns. While the day moves toward twilight, William “Shorty” Brewer–Stan’s uncle and an elder Pine Ridge horseman–sits in his lawn chair beside his pickup truck, holding court as people come by to chat. Kids from Pine Ridge stroll up to say hello.

William “Shorty” Brewer and Kye Brewer( Nate Bressler)

Shorty is known for organizing multi-day memorial road rides to sites of historical significance to the Lakota. He tries to provide any interested kids with horses and logistical support free of charge. Many of those stopping by recently participated in his Little Bighorn ride, during which dozens of children and adults rode virtually 70 miles from Ashland, Montana, to Little Bighorn, the site of Custer’s Last Stand. After a day in the saddle, they collected around a campfire while elders discussed what they’d seen.

“Shorty would give the shirt off his back to assist kids, ” Stan says, and he knows what he’s talking about. For most of Stan’s youth, his father was in jail, and Shorty stepped in as a parental figure, patiently agreeing to take Stan on rides almost every time he asked. Shorty knows the challenges and temptations the kids will need to overcome, having insured it all on the front line of tribal law enforcement agencies. He decided more than 20 decades ago that his own life would work much better without alcohol.

Sheridan is merely about an hour down Interstate 90 from the Little Bighorn site, and memory of the 1876 battle is feel throughout rodeo weekend. The Indian Wars seem surprisingly relevant when direct descendants of the adversaries are gathered on formerly contested land.

The contrast between the portion of the backstretch near the stables, where Native American relay squads meet, and the interior of the way, where the predominantly white rodeo participants park their trailers, is stark. The infield is full of imagination RVs, along with new pickups that pull shimmering trailers. While many rodeo riders wear crisply pressed shirts plastered with sponsors, the Native Americans wear a random assortment of T-shirts and jeans before changing into the tribal regalia that they’re encouraged by event organizers to wear during races, complete with headdresses and face paint.

One section of bleachers stands out from the remainder: the Gold Buckle Club, where humen in expensive boots and creased jeans mingle with attractive women in sundresses. These are the moneyed descendants of the ones who won the West, and they inhabit another world than the Native Americans. Free drinks flow without pause from a well-stocked bar; wads of twenties change hands as club members bet on the relay riders, hollering encouragement to their favorites.

Shortly before Stan and the Brew Crew head off to get their ponies for tonight’s racing, Stan ducks into his trailer and emerges holding a coffee mug filled with sage. He lights it and quietly moves to each of the pony stalls, guiding the smoke toward the ponies, his rider, and the rest of the team. He mouths a few words of prayer.

Brian’s goal this time out is to improve his exchanges, get off one horse and onto the next at a speedier clip. As always he’s worried about his size. “I am a little guy, and I have to stop these fuckers, ” he says amiably. But real worry marks his voice. He walks off to do some stretching.

Kayden Brings Plenty( Nate Bressler)

The heat of the afternoon is giving way to a cool, breezy evening. The grandstands fill with humen in boots and jeans, some of them accompanied by their spouses and little boys in cowboy clothe. Adolescents screech as they ride the Kamikaze at the nearby carnival, the sunshine define over the Bighorns to the west, the smell of Polish sausage filling the air.

Prerace festivities begin with a showing of horsemanship featuring active-duty members of the U.S. Army First Infantry Division’s Mounted Color Guard garmented as 19 th-century cavalrymen. The captain of the Lakota Warpath relay team, 36 -year-old Don “Cubby” Ghost Bear, served combat duty with this division in Iraq, and now he’s trading war narratives with the colour guard’s first sergeant. Later, back at his stall, Ghost Bear carefully paints his ponies with the initials U.S.–the label once branded on both sides of military horses–to honor his ancestors, who “were the only ones able to steal ponies from the cavalry.”

Eyes turn skyward when Toby Keith’s “Beer for My Horses” transitions to the Lee Greenwood chestnut “God Bless the U.S.A.” A double-amputee Army veteran descends from a cloudless sky under an enormous red and white parachute, a huge American flag trailing behind him. The ceremonies conclude with a prayer, and the crowd erupts as the first hot of five squads get underway.

The Brew Crew enter the second night of racing in good shape; another strong performance will keep the team in line for a place in Saturday’s championship. But this time, Brian’s size ultimately trips him up.

He gets off to a strong start, smoothly mounting the thoroughbred Fried Rice and rocketing off the line before some of the other riders have even gotten on their ponies. The plan is to have him ride the temperamental but powerful Steals the Thunder for the second largest lap.

Everything seems to be going well as Fried Rice explodes down the backstretch, constructing a sizeable lead. When Brian guides him around the tight turn into the homestretch, there are no other horses in sight. Will, the mugger, leaps up and down, signaling pony and rider to pull off into the team’s box for the first exchange.

But Fried Rice never breaks stride, dismissing Brian’s reins and shooting down the homestretch as if gunning for the finish line. The crowd gasp, and with good reason: the failed exchange merely ended the Brew Crew’s chance for a spot in the championship. It means automatic relegation to the bottom of the standings.

Brian Beetem( Nate Bressler)

Stan is stunned. Fried Rice has never bolted like this before, and Stan wonders if perhaps he “smelled the finish line and thought it was a gate race.” He can’t mask his annoyance. “That’s relay, ” he says. “But of all the fucking places.”

A breakdown of the weekend’s earnings shows that no one is getting rich in this athletic. Stan expended approximately $500 on gasoline, $375 for his family’s motel room, $500 for the entry fee, $400 for grain, and $750 for the team’s food. The team as a whole would receive about $1,500 in payouts. After dedicating roughly $500 to his rider and the other two squad members, Stan is left with merely $1,000 to assist defray his own expenses.

There are two small circular pins–with smiling young faces on them–attached to the driver-side visor in Stan’s pickup truck. “Can’t talk to them no more, ” Stan says when he sees me seeming. It’s an August day not long after the Sheridan race, and we’re riding around Pine Ridge. The pins depict the faces of two of his best friends, riders Lawrence Harvey and Hermis Tall.

There are the usual explanations for why these talented athletes chose to kill themselves: broken families, poverty, alcohol. There may be another reason, though. Like soldiers who get addicted to the intoxicating adrenaline that comes from combat, some relay riders flourish when they’re on the road vying but become dangerously vulnerable to purposelessness when they’re back on the reservation.

G.W. afterwards tries to explain, sounding resigned. “You could win everything clear across the U.S ., but back here it’s always the same feeling, ” he says. “It’s a sad place and always has been, ” noting that only down the road is Wounded Knee, where hundreds of Lakota, including women and children, were massacred in 1890.

Winters are rough on Pine Ridge and can increase the sense of desolation. Powerful gales roar through from the west; ominous signs on Interstate 25 warning against gusts topping 60 miles per hour. The snowstorms are especially dangerous because of housing conditions: many people live in ramshackle trailers perched along remote grime roads. Nick Campbell, an Oglala Sioux tribal-police officer, calls the proscribing winter months “suicide season.” During the winter of 2015-16 alone, nine young people between the ages of 12 and 24 killed themselves, and another 103 made attempts.

As I ride with G.W. up a long road toward a series of trailers that are members of the Jumping Eagles, a prominent Pine Ridge horse family, he tells me about Harlie Jade Tall Jumping Eagle, a 15 -year-old girl with a playful smile. G.W.’s voice becomes a whisper as he points to the place where Harlie aimed their own lives in March of 2015.

The following year, Stan’s friend Lawrence Harvey–a 23 -year-old natural athlete who once missed a relay exchange and then ran alongside the galloping pony for a one-quarter of a mile–took their own lives. Stan named his second son, Kye Lawrence, after him.

Shorty Brewer( Nate Bressler)

While Lawrence was a strong horseman, neither he nor any other modern rider compared to Hermis Tall, who was an all-time great. G.W. says Hermis “grew up on the back of a horse” and never really get off. Sometimes he would ride 20 miles into town for a pizza.

Hermis was created just a few trailers away from Lawrence, on the same grime road in Manderson, the village at the epicenter of Pine Ridge’s horse culture–a place where 20 to 30 communal horses wander around at any given time, like a living bike-share program.

Manderson is also one of the reservation’s most dangerous regions, and driving through it on a weekday afternoon can be staggering. People of all ages spill out of dilapidated trailers in various stages of inebriation, some holler and carrying on a discussion with themselves. Tribal police approach it with trepidation, aware that reinforcements may be an hour away.

G.W. explains the challenge of grown up poor in such a remote place. A person raised in a housing project in New York City might have it bad, but at the least they can walk out their front doorway and find a convenience store nearby. In Manderson, he says, “you have to drive 18 miles for fast food.” The sense of being cut off, marooned on an island of poverty and depression, is palpable.

This is the world that Hermis Tall was never able to escape. He was capable of warmth and affection, but there was a wildness that neither his friends nor his ponies could tame. Like too many young people on Pine Ridge, he discovered alcohol early and was drinking steadily by the time he was 11. He was raised by his grandfather in a trailer crammed with up to a dozen extended family members.

But Hermis always had horses. He spent most days with his friends traversing the nearby hills, jumping into Mercy Creek from their galloping mounts and sometimes heading into town on horseback for a hot lap–an effort to bait patrolling tribal police before scattering into the backcountry. “We never got caught, ” says Roger Jumping Eagle, G.W.’s 25 -year-old relay rider. Racing takes him back to those carefree days. “I get that wild-kid feeling again, ” he says, “that adrenaline rush.”

Riders like Roger and Hermis loved to compete for bragging rights at local races, like NBA stars who gain street cred for playing pickup games on playgrounds. One such race goes for a hundred miles across a huge swath of Pine Ridge, with horses switched out at designated checkpoints along the way. Hermis, who had an encyclopedic knowledge of the backcountry, excelled at it.

Stan and Parker( Nate Bressler)

Foremost amongst the local tournaments are the notorious suicide races, which entire towns turn out to watch. Anywhere from around 12 to 18 riders start, but usually merely a handful finish after riding over rugged terrain, up and down hills, and across country roads. For a few brief moments, riders feel weightless–careening through the reservation’s grassland, adrenaline surging, temporarily able to shed their worries about money, the well-being of loved ones, volatile relationships, and uncertain futures. Regrettably, the highs speedily dissipate.

Just weeks before “hes taken” their own lives, Hermis led the Brew Crew to their third consecutive world championship in Sheridan. Stan showed me YouTube clips of Hermis jumping off his horse while it was still moving and then leaping over the hindquarters and onto the back of the next one. “Ass jumping, ” as Stan calls it, takes unbelievable athleticism. “Not a lot of people can do that, ” he says, “let alone in the world championship on the last exchange.”

On August 25, 2016, Hermis had spent much of an unseasonably cool day drinking. His friend Jay, a bronc rider, sensed that he was headed to a dark place, in part because he’d lost a brother to suicide months earlier and had only gone through a nasty breakup. Jay try our best to pacify him down, but it didn’t run. Hermis jumped on his horse and rode off into a valley not far from his trailer home. He slid a noose around his neck, tied it to a tree leg, and kicked the pony out from under him.

For years now, Shorty Brewer and his brothers have put on local races at Pine Ridge, coinciding with the annual powwow during the first weekend of August. The powwow is the biggest occasion of the year, a four-day festivity of Lakota history combined with carnival rides, sports, a rodeo, and a nighttime event featuring traditional garbs and dancing. The Brewer brothers’ races have the feel of a community picnic. Some families arrive in vehicles showing signs of damage from a recent hailstorm, their trunks filled with lawn chairs and blankets.

Ella’s parents, Mona and Ted, are on hand for the 2018 powwow. Ted, a massive man wearing an Oakland Raiders T-shirt, lifts little Kye, engulfing him in his thick, heavily tattooed arms. Ted is especially proud of a chest plate he made for Parker to race in, using hair from Parker’s favorite pony, Daisy.

The cool and overcast afternoon features all kinds of races, most designed more for household fun than intense rivalry. Everyone seems happy, transported far from worry and sadness, though darkness can feel inescapable.

Just across the highway, an eight-year-old named Jayla Rodriguez, a beautiful daughter with an infectious smile, was mauled to demise in 2014 by one of the reservation’s ubiquitous packs of wild puppies. Ted shakes his head when the attack is mentioned, lamenting the facts of the case that there are some streets you can’t stroll down for dread of feral dogs, before turning his attention back to the races.

Ted is imposing now, but he was a vulnerable kid when he attended a predominantly white high school in neighboring Rushville, Nebraska, where he was taunted because of his Native blood. Decades later, returning to Rushville, thick with muscle and hardened by jail time in California, Ted tackled one of his high school tormenters. “You remember me? ” he said. His antagonist said no, to which Ted responded, “Well, I recollect you.” Sensing the menace, the man broke down in tears, which was probably the only thing that saved him from a beating.

As Ted relaxes in his lawn chair, Parker and Kye’s other grandfather, Stan Sr ., is preparing for his race. A sinewy horse trainer, Stan Sr. looks like he was born in boots and jeans and has subsisted on cigarettes and caffeine ever since. Stan devotes his papa some last-minute advice, and Stan Sr. goes on to have the most exciting race of the day, falling just short in a duel with an old friend of his. Dismounting, still breathing heavily, Stan Sr. can’t wipe the smile off his face. For a few minutes, he was no longer a creaky 54 -year-old man but a young boy, riding his pony across the same fields his ancestors had ridden generations ago.

Stan Brewer Sr.( right) racing a friend( Nate Bressler)

Shorty oversees the races in his usual understated style. He’s quiet by nature, but terms spill out when the subject turns to the children who are taking turns riding his pony, Suzie. “Just putting a smile on their face is what keeps me going, ” he says, adding that the hardest part of his time with kids is when it comes to an end and he has to tell them, “It’s over, you gotta go home.” Their homes can sometimes be scary places, overflowing with rowdy adults who are drunk or high.

The relay races on powwow weekend are held at Three Moccasin Park, a classic bush way. There are a few rickety wooden bleachers near the finish line. Otherwise it’s just a dirt oval with an elevated wooden announcer’s platform in the middle of an infield of overgrown grass. There are plenty of whites from Nebraska interspersed amongst the Native families, some on the bleachers and others sitting on the beds of pickup trucks or under portable tents. In Loving Memory T-shirts, with the face of a child or teenager on them, are common among the Lakota in the crowd.

Clouds move in, delivering relief from the unforgiving sun, and it looks like rainfall may be on the way. As usual, Ella has arrived early and staked out a good infield spot near the starting line, rolling out a blanket for Kye and unloading an smorgasbord of toys to keep Parker busy before his pony race. Her mothers join her, as does her brother and his family, with a cooler full of soda and athletics drinkings. Most people seem to be obeying the reservation’s prohibition of alcohol, though the doors of the car next to Ella’s blanket open periodically, releasing a powerful cloud of weed smoke every time.

Ella gets word that the kids’ pony race is next, and she has to scramble to dress Parker and apply war paint. Parker betrays no signs of nerves as adults shout his name when he passes by on Daisy.

The pony races last around 50 yards, with an adult leading the pony while the child rides. Parker wins, assisted in no small portion by Stan’s speed as he leads Daisy at a full sprint. Stan, Ella, and Stan Sr. are beaming as Parker rides over to the bare-bones winner’s circle for a victory photograph. After the ceremony, he hops off and hot-walks Daisy, guiding her in tight circles to cool her off, simulating the adult relay squads who do the same thing with their massive thoroughbreds.

Soon it’s time for the Brew Crew’s preliminary hot. Confidence is high for this race, which is against middling rivalry on the home track. But when the cornet sounds, the Brew Crew implode. Substitute rider Roger Jumping Eagle’s pony get bumped during a chaotic start, anxieties, and jumps off the way. Roger is hurled, suffering a concussion.

And that’s it. A team that had until recently dominated the relay circuit couldn’t get past the starting line.

As Ella and her father quietly take down the tent, she advises me that Stan will probably be in a bad mood. When Parker and Ella approach the team, I follow along, relieved when Parker transgresses the silence. “How did Brew Crew do, Daddy? ” he says cheerfully.

“We sucked, son, ” he says. With a bitter smile directed at me, he shakes his head. “This is the worst year we’ve ever had. Three straight world championships and now 17 dead lasts, ” he says with some exaggeration. Half-wondering if I’m a jinx, he adds: “Fucking media.”

Ella Brewer giving Kayden Brings Plenty a trim( Nate Bressler)

George Strait’s “The Cowboy Rides Away” plays over the PA as the last tents are struck and pickups exit the way, leaving clouds of grime. The afternoon is starting to feel something like a vacation ending too early.

As the way empties, one boy remains: Kayden Brings Plenty, an earnest 14 -year-old rider who Shorty introduced to racing years earlier. He pulls his horse alongside Shorty.

“Hey, Grandpa Shorty, ” he says, “when are we riding next? ”

For the Brew Crew, the season’s final race–with its biggest purse, $75,000 — takes place in late August at Canterbury Park, outside Minneapolis.

Hosted by the wealthy Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community, this is a popular, invitation-only event. The Mdewakanton are known for treating participants well, covering travelling expenditures and goody pouches, welcome dinners, and generous payouts. A few squads have driven 25 hours from as far away as Washington State.

Competition will be fierce, but the Brew Crew arrived with renewed stability–Sylvan has been riding for the team again–and momentum, having recently won smaller races in Parshall, North Dakota, and Lower Brule, South Dakota.

Canterbury Park feels a world away from anywhere else the Brew Crew have raced this summer. On a cool and pleasant Thursday night, the stands are packed with an affluent suburban crowd–golf shorts and shirts are more common here than cowboy boot and hats. The bars are stocked with beers and tasty food, and there’s an enormous children’s play area. No surprise, this is Ella’s favorite destination of the summer.

Fourteen teams induced the trip to Canterbury, where they’ll are participating in two preliminary hots of seven teams each on Thursday and Friday nights to qualify for the championship on Saturday night. The Brew Crew draw the second heat on Thursday. Canterbury is a mile-long track–as opposed to the half-mile courses the team usually sees–and Stan has brought different ponies with him this weekend, including three he recently purchased in Nebraska for $2,000.

As Stan leads his team onto the way, I find my route back to Ella and the sons. Parker, amped by the excitement of the impending race, is desperate to find a pony to ride, and Ella snaps that if he asks again, he’ll have to do a time-out. He’s soon confused by “his fathers” and the rest of the Brew Crew as they pass by, dressed in lime green shirts, jeans, purple headbands, and canvas vests. Parker waves and screams “Hi, Dad! ” and “Let’s run, Brew Crew! ” as they move by.

The race get underway. Regrettably for Stan, one of his new acquisitions, Kitty Blonde, is slow over the course on the first mile, falling far behind and causing the Brew Crew to finish a dismal sixth out of seven teams. They’ll need a strong finish on Friday night to have a chance of making the final.

As I approach the stallings with familiar trepidation, Stan is letting loose a cloudburst of f-bombs, angry at the performance of his new pony and at Sylvan for riding too cautiously.

The next morning I gratify Stan, his family, and the three boys from his squad at the Canterbury Inn and Suites for an outing to the Mall of America. Stan hands them each some spending money for the afternoon, for which they offer grunts of gratitude.

Stan is wearing a purple Vikings T-shirt along with a Sheridan World Championship belt buckles, while the sons are in Pine Ridge teen attire, which seems to borrowed heavily from hip-hop: flat-brimmed caps and low-slung jeans.

As we wander, I ask Stan what he ensure in Sylvan, who hasn’t ridden well or presented much emotion at the races I’ve been to.

Stan makes it clear that he takes pride in having mentored Sylvan. “Sylvan has always been a rider, since we carried him crying onto a horse, ” he says. Stan explains that while Sylvan is quiet and can be a bit awkward socially, he has the thirst and competitive spirit necessary to win. He quotes Sylvan’s work ethic and the facts of the case that he woke up early in all regions of the springtime to ride six horses for their daily workouts.

As I watch Stan and Ella guide Parker and Kye’s stroller through the sea of mall humanity, I wonder if the issue was disorienting for them. Does visiting the cathedral of consumerism make it more difficult to return home, where the only shopping available is at the Sioux Nation Superstore or a Family Dollar in nearby Whiteclay? This leads me to wonder–given all the challenges of reservation life–why so many stay.

The answer always involves some difference of a powerful idea: family.

As Stan has explained, many Lakota grow up on the reservation in small trailers or houses packed with people. While this is not always easy and can lead to problems, it’s a consolation for those fortunate enough to be surrounded by loved ones. Another factor is a spiritual connection to the land–a small parcel they can call their own. Though Pine Ridge is poor, it’s beautiful, too, and it’s sacred to those who practise traditions like sweats and Sun Dances. As Stan reminds me, the Lakota are “proud, even if we are in a bad route and in national societies that has been trying to kill us off for over a hundred years.”

The Brew Crew return to the way in late afternoon to begin preparations for the evening’s races. Stan has made some substitutions in his pony lineup, replacing two underperformers with recent acquisitions What’s in the Box and Significat. He doesn’t know what to expect, but facing elimination, he has no choice but to take a chance.

As soon as the race starts, Sylvan weaves his way into the lead pack of seven ponies. Omak Express, a strong squad that came here from Washington, and Bad Nation, from the Crow Creek reservation in South Dakota, maintain a narrow result as the riders pull into the first of two exchanges.

As the second mile begins, Stan’s decision to swap horses appears to be paying off, and Sylvan enters the second exchange well ahead of the field. He loses precious seconds changing horses, though, and he emerges in fifth place. He remains well behind the leaders for much of the final mile. Heading into the homestretch, Sylvan is mired in fifth, a apparently insurmountable eight lengths short of the second-place finish needed for the Brew Crew to at least have a shot at advancing.

Ella and I are screaming, desperately trying to will the team to a miraculous finish. Abruptly, Significat receives another gear and begins to overtake the horses separating him from the leader. He noses into third as they charge down the stretch, hugging the railway, just behind the second-place horse, which veers to the inside, threatening to box him in.

Sylvan matches this move with a quick thrust to the outside, nearly colliding with the horse that had just cut him off, before thundering ahead to a second-place finish. It was a marvelous feat of horsemanship by Sylvan and a resounding reveal of heart by Significat.

Ella and Parker are beaming as we head to the barn to check in with the team. Everyone is smiling. They joke about replacing their Indian regalia with Viking cornets tomorrow, to win over the Minnesota crowd.

Now there’s nothing to do but wait and find out which squads will advance. I say goodnight, and Stan assures me he will text as soon as he sees out if they induced it.

I head to a nearby bar for a drinking. I’m still there as the clock inches toward midnight, and there’s no word. Simply when I’m about to assume the worst, I get a message.

They’re in.

To the crowd streaming into Canterbury Park on Saturday night, the Indian relay races are a fun sideshow. But to the families and friends of the participants, the nervous excitement is palpable. I watch Stan feverishly chew on a blue plastic seal from a water bottle. Ella says he didn’t feed or drink anything all afternoon.

Tribal drummers wearing ceremonial war bonnets play as the Brew Crew, clad in the usual fluorescent green shirts, take their position in the box and Sylvan rides to the starting line. Stan is using the same horses as last night, hoping they have one more strong performance in them.

The crowd is amped. While there’s no official wager on Indian relay–as a sport, it’s too unregulated–a voice on the loudspeakers announced today “side betting is highly encouraged.” Spectators seem more engaged with the relay races than the conventional gate races, another reminder that the sport has the potential to be bigger. “Cornhole and darts are on ESPN, ” Stan said once. “Imagine what relay could do.”

Horses and riders ultimately converge on the starting line under a bloodred moon. After the start, with the ponies accelerating toward the first turn, Sylvan pulls into the result pack, where he remains for the first mile.

Racing comfortably in third place coming into the first exchange, Sylvan rides hard into the box, where the mugger, Will Brewer, jumps in place to guide him in. Sylvan leaps off the moving horse as Will corrals it and, with just a few steps, bounds onto the waiting horse, J.W. Red, to complete an exquisite exchange. This propels him into the leading as he approaches the first turn of his second mile. Sylvan pushes J.W. Red relentlessly and is ahead by ten lengths as he comes down the homestretch toward the final exchange.

Then things start to go wrong. After flawlessly dismounting J.W. Red, Sylvan can’t jump onto Significat to start the final mile. Seconds going on in here as he tries–once, then again, then a third time–to generate enough thrusting from his fatigued legs to construct the leap. Other teams execute their exchanges smoothly and start thundering toward the first turn. Ultimately, Sylvan manages to get on, and with a slap from Stan, Significat is off, striding furiously ahead to rejoin the leaders as they round the first turn.

Members and friends of the Brew Crew in Sheridan( Nate Bressler)

Significat maintains constructing up lost ground, and as they head down the backstretch, Sylvan and the rider from a rival team, Little Badger, are neck and neck, their horses’ heads bobbing past each other with every step. Heading into the far turn, it’s a two-team race, and it hits us that the Brew Crew have a legitimate shot at winning.

As the announcer bellows “And down the stretch they come, ” Sylvan widens his lead, putting five lengths between Significat and his pursuer. The finish is in sight. Whipping furiously with his right hand, Sylvan appears over his left shoulder and assures a third pony exploding into the fray, furiously closing the distance along the inside.

For the second straight night, Significat sees another gear. Pony and rider are indistinguishable, churning toward the finishing line. They pull away, intersecting it first by a comfy margin.

For a brief moment day seems to freeze, the demons that have haunted the team over the course of a long summer exorcised by victory, an detonation of joy.

Sylvan and Will–often monosyllabic–are talking nonstop, their voices charged with the energy of their victory. “We were only here to do one thing–win! ” Will wails. Ella greets Stan with a hug, and then they usher a jubilant Parker and a sleepy Kye toward the winner’s circle.

Later, pointing to the place on the homestretch where Significat briefly appeared to falter, Stan says, “A horse’s fitness can get him there–but his heart is needed for the rest.”

Back at the stables, night has brought a crisp chill to the track. The young members of the Brew Crew, who usually move about with a bit of teenage slouch, are walking with their chests out.

Stan comes up to me as Parker jumps atop a nearby fence and starts whacking it with his whip, simulating a rider.

“You know this is two years to the day since Hermis hung himself? ” he says, reminding me that the team had been here when they got term of the suicide. “I know Hermis was there pushing Sylvan down when he was trying to mount Significat on that last exchange.”

I say I don’t understand exactly what he means but assume he’s indicating Hermis was there helping his friend to the win.

No, Stan says. “I know he was messing with Sylvan and chuckling up there.”

The more I thought about it, the more it stimulated sense. This was not Hollywood, the guardian angel intervening to assure the success of his friends among the living.

No, it was more real.

Hermis was still there, still being himself. Still fucking with them. Still laughing.

Will Bardenwerper( @WBardenwerper) is a former U.S. Army infantry officer and the author of The Prisoner in His Palace: Saddam Hussein, His American Guards, and What History Leaves Unsaid.

Read more: outsideonline.com

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