#Dixie purring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dwolfram · 5 months

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R.I.P Dixie

July dragged on. Plaster peeling off walls, exposing bricks and falling down with a thud, often woke me up in the middle of the night. Que Sera, Sera played on repeat over the megaphones, from eight to eight thirty PM, until the timer went off and stopped it. The pregnant lady from upstairs left for vacation. Word had it that she went to give birth and sell the baby.

My weekdays were spent cleaning vehicles, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee at the garage. During the weekends, I stayed in my room with kitty.

The main topic of conversation at our dinner table was the money my pops would make from the poker tournament. He insisted on purchasing a new cargo van so we can be comfortable at our vacations, and ma wanted to use a sum to fix the walls and windows of our house.

It was a Friday night, when my parents were watching a movie in the living room, that Randy popped up at my window. “My man!” Randy jumped into my room and sat behind my desk. Leaning back in my chair, he laid his saxophone on his belly. “What’s good?”

“EVERYTHING!” I replied. “We’ll get some cheese in our hands pretty soon! Some really good money. I’m really excited.”

“Someone said cheese?” a raspy high-pitched voice asked from the street outside.

I shot a glance at the window.

“Oh sorry buddy,” Randy said. “That’s Thomas, real fine guy I thought you’d like to meet.”

A grey rat, barely 5 feet tall, jumped in and sat on my bed. He had a volleyball-shaped belly, and there was a washboard strapped to his back. Kitty stretched behind me, craning its neck, eyeing Thomas. With hesitant paws, kitty stepped towards him as he sat there unfazed, one leg extended. “Here kitty kitty,” he said. Seconds later, kitty was lying on its back, purring in pleasure as Thomas rubbed its belly.

“Now, Randy was telling me you’re feeling all sorts of messed up,” Thomas said looking at me, with kitty completely under his spell.

I looked at Randy.

“Come on... okay, listen I don’t have all day. Do you have any dreams?” Thomas demanded.

“Yes,” I replied.

“I don’t give a shit. Neither does Randy.”

“What’s his fucking problem?!” I stood up on my bed over Thomas.

“He isn’t wrong you know,” Randy said. “Let him finish.”

“This kid’s an open book,” Thomas said to Randy, then turned to me. “If you give a damn about what others think of your dreams, you’re not going to last long. Trust me, I’ve been all over. The saddest people out there are those who care what others think of their needs and wants. Now, Randy told me you got some sweet weed here. Would that be correct?”

Being right made him intolerable. I passed him the spliff from my nightstand.

“Thomas will be here for the weekend. Sailing off again on Monday, so we’re throwing him a party at the club. You should come. Saturday night, baby!” Rubbing all his legs, Randy accentuated that last word with a falsetto. “You have to come. Anyway, we better bounce!”

“See ya there, buddy!” Thomas said jumping out my window, followed by Randy.

Staring at the window in confusion, I reached for my spliff but all I felt was ash.

“Thanks for the smoke!” I heard Randy yell from down the street.

I laid back and stared at the ceiling, playing dead with eyes wide open. Two knocks on my door made kitty jump and hide under the sheets. I sat up on my bed. “Come in…”

My mother walked in softly, light as a feather, almost floating.

“Your father really liked that poem you added, and he wants you to edit a couple of pages from the mayor’s new story while he’s away.”

“That would be amazing! I wanted to start saving up for a new bike.”

“Honey, you’re way too young to be handling that much money. Your father will save it for you. But this will be a great experience for you, since you’ve shown us you want to be a writer.”

“Maybe we can fix our house!” I exclaimed, making Mother smile and earning me a hug. I pretended to struggle to get away from the embrace.

“And maybe a trip to Disneyland!” Mother said tickling me playfully. “Now, your father was telling me that Jaklipp needs you tomorrow at the garage at noon. Look at you, handling your own like a big man.”

A sweet north breeze allowed me to sleep in, past nine. When I got out of bed, everyone had gone. A note on the kitchen counter, reminding me of my appointment with Jaklipp, was signed by my father, with a P.S.: “hope you’re ready for a gift!”

After brushing my teeth, I made a cup of coffee and headed to my room. With a couple of hours to kill, I pulled out my notebook. “The Place Where Cocktails Are Poured With Abundance” I wrote at the very top, aiming to vividly document that place, and then give the piece to my father. An open field spreading as far as the eye can see, with a bar-stop every hundred steps, and different tents with live music and dj sets.

I wanted it to be right. No sad undertones hidden between the lines, like with my father’s favorite writers. That place needed to pop out and draw my father in for at least one page. But I didn’t get far with it. After the second paragraph, kitty needed to play and I couldn’t say no. Before I knew it, the time had come for me to leave.

Jaklipp was waiting for me in his car outside the garage. “Jump in, the shop’s staying closed today,” he barked at me from the driver’s seat and unlocked the passenger’s door.

“Okay, boss. What are we doing?” I asked with a half-buzz smile on my face.

“First, this is for you. A gift from the mayor for your magnificent poem,” Jaklipp said handing me a smart-phone. “It’s loaded with a sim and a plan, all pre-paid by the mayor. Look at you, man!”

I played around with the phone and loved it. I turned on the in-camera, pulled a face and took a selfie. Then I turned the phone and snapped a photo of Jaklipp as he was lighting up a cigarette. He looked so cool in that photo, but as soon as he realized what I’d done, he grabbed the phone from my hands and deleted it. My mouth was hanging half-open when he threw it casually on my lap.

“Close your mouth and quit fooling around.”

I nodded, picked up the phone and started exploring all the applications and what I could do with it.

“Now we’re going to the mayor’s. The poker tournament is in two weeks, and we do not want to rock any boats. So, whatever they ask, we say yes. Agreed?”

Again I nodded, not taking my eyes off the screen of the phone.

“A man of few words. I like that,” Jaklipp said. The engine gave a couple of kicks before it started, and we drove off. He turned on the radio as the notes of a pop song faded, making room for the DJ: Coming up next is Whitney Houston with “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”. The introductory bass line started bumping on the car’s beaten-down sound system, and the DJ cut in again: Do you feel like dancing to live music from the best local act? Do you dream of an ALL YOU CAN EAT buffet plus up to TEN FREE HARD LIQUOR drinks? Wanna see a lion? How about a gorilla? Stay tuned to hear more about the EPIC celebration our mayor and other major donors have prepared for our town!

Although the ride was relatively long, we didn’t talk much. When we hit the highway, Jaklipp accelerated, wind whooshed through the open windows, and we turned the radio up. Once we were out of the city and on the coast, I started messing around with my new phone, taking pictures of the sea, but never pointing it at Jaklipp.

When we arrived at the mayor’s, the guard at the gate activated the 10-foot-tall black metallic doors and let us in. Surrounded by freshly cut green grass, the scent jumping into our vehicle, we drove up the pathway that led to the parking lot.

“That looks like a bladder!” I pointed at the pool next to the villa.

“Keep the funnies for when we’re out of here,” Jaklipp said smirking.

No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t spot any deterioration of the building’s exterior. No walls missing, no broken window-frames, no cracks.

Jaklipp parked the car and we put out our cigarettes in an old paper cup filled halfway with yellow water. I was concerned that our scent of sweat and cigarettes would not be appropriate for a meeting like this, but Jaklipp assured me that we were good.

Blocking the house entrance was a pair of shaved-dome giants, both the same height, their arms wider than my head and Jaklipp's combined. Wearing shades, black suits, white shirts and black ties, they were an extra double layer to the door. As soon they let us inside, the smell of mold attacked us. The deeper in we went, the stronger it became. But it stopped bothering us once our nostrils gave up.

“Would you guys like a screwdriver?” Standing there was a lady with raccoon eyes from the mascara running down just above her cheek bones. She wore a silk red robe and had a towel wrapped around her head. I assumed she was the mayor’s wife. Jaklipp asked for water and I did the same.

“Gentlemen…” We turned around to see the mayor walking towards us. He wore white shorts and a blue silk shirt, his feet were bare. “Is the old bitch giving you a hard time?” he asked as he shook Jaklipp’s hand.

“I just offered them a drink…” she said.

“Let’s go to my office, gentlemen,” he said and led the way. Still holding our glasses of water, we followed him. At one point he stopped and opened the door to a tiny storage room. “Okay, this way.” He moved the rug covering the floor, pulled on a latch and opened a secret door.

He led the way as we followed him down the narrow wooden stairs. Flipping a switch, he welcomed us to his dome-shaped office. A red carpet covered every inch of the floor, and all the walls had been replaced with an aquarium full of eels.

A desk was placed right in the middle of the room, with two black chairs in front and an office chair behind. What caught my eye was a 4x6 frame on the desk with a screen inside it, which played a 10-second loop. The video consisted of a Doberman standing next to the mayor’s pool and looking at the camera. After a few seconds, red kisses were slapped all over the dog’s face until they filled the screen. Then they faded to a picture of a blue sky, with the head of the dog slowly appearing amidst the clouds and big gold letters at the bottom, “R.I.P Dixie.” A red bow with the white letters “R.I.P.” snagged the upper right corner of the frame, and a black bow was placed at the lower left.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell her about this stupid dog!” he suddenly screamed; grabbing the white mutt with black spots, about the size of my forearm, from his chair the Mayor launched it towards Jaklipp, who swiftly ducked. It bounced off the aquarium's glass wall with a squeaky toy sound, shook off the scare, let out two growls, then dashed up the stairs and started barking furiously. “I’ve told her plenty to NOT let her dog in this room. This woman turned me into a fucking killer! Jaklipp let the dog out, please,” the mayor said as he finally settled down behind his desk. Jaklipp went up the stairs, opened the door and let the dog out. The mayor sighed, stretched both hands above his head, and cracked his neck twice.

“So, as I was saying, the other day, I had to put down Dixie,” tapping the top of the frame with the Doberman on his desk. “He had started acting weird, growling at my son or me whenever we messed with that mutt. A couple of days ago, my son wanted to lie on the couch, and the mutt was on his seat, so he kicked it off. Before he knew it, his arm was wedged between Dixie’s jaws. Between my son’s screaming and Dixie’s growling, I almost had a heart attack, so I told one of the security guards to take Dixie out back and… you know, discipline him for good. Anyway, Jaklipp, talk to me. Got the starting cash for our agreement?”

Jaklipp remained silent. He reached in his right pants pocket, pulled out a wad of hundreds and placed it on the table. Then he leaned down, rolled up the right pant leg and pulled out another fat ball. Same thing with the left side of his pants.

“Nine K. The rest will be delivered at the end of the tournament,” Jaklipp said in a firm but friendly tone.

The mayor took the bundles of money and put them in his drawer. “You don’t

want this to go south, buddy.” The mayor‘s voice had picked up in an insolent tone, and his eyes were locked on Jaklipp.

“We listened to the promo for the parade on our way here! It sounds like fun. I’ve never seen a gorilla up close. Other than the ones that greeted us at your doorstep.” Jaklipp said, making the sign of an explosion with his hands over his head. The mayor let out a loud laughter, sat back in his chair, smiled, and nodded. A few seconds of silence later, Jaklipp continued: “We are aware that times are extremely pressuring, but patience is key. Doing business with you has always been a pleasure, and we’ve never dishonored a deal.”

The mayor immediately changed his tone from impudent and cautious to friendly. I tried not to show it, but I was surprised to see Jaklipp, out of all people, handling the situation so elegantly that the mayor felt obliged to treat us. He picked up the phone on his desk and barked at the receiver: “May we have some cocktails, please? The guests drove all the way here for business.”

***************************

Once we got in the car, Jaklipp pulled out the envelope the Mayor gave him as he escorted us out and handed it to me. “Put this in the cubby, will ya?” he said, starting the car.

As I pulled the handle, the glove compartment spewed a bunch of old receipts and fliers right between my legs. “Just shove them back in,” Jaklipp said without taking his eyes off the road. “Be sure the envelope is right up front and easily accessible.” With the envelope between my teeth, I started cleaning up the mess, trying to neatly fit all that paper back into its confined space. As I pushed the pieces back in one by one, my eyes caught a copy of a card with Jaklipp’s name on it. Among the discernible letters I read:

AT S, X

BAR ASSOCIATION

N m: JOAQUIN ACKERMAN LIPDIECK

Sta us: ACTIVE

Iss d Da : November 1, 1982

“Is this fake?” I asked with a smirk, holding it up.

Jaklipp turned around and looked at the paper: “HA! I’d forgotten this existed!” His eyes and facial muscles reflected the excitement in his voice. “No, that’s not fake. That’s how I met your father at University.”

“Get out of here. And what about the garage?”

“Well, that was my father’s. No one would hire me, I had no connections, so after a few years of screwing around and trying to figure it out, I said fuck it and started working the garage. The wisest choice I’ve ever made.”

“Yeah, right…”

“You know what’s in that thin folder you put in the cubby?” he asked. “That’s 2K, a gift from the Mayor for your father and myself. All I’m saying is that there are endless ways to use an education. Ya dig? Now, turn the radio on.”

Baby, here I am, I'm the man on the scene, I can give you what you want, but you gotta come home with me the speakers delivered instantly, as Redding’s voice made Jaklipp air drum on the wheel and turn the volume up.

Between singing along and air drumming on the wheel to 80’s funk music, Jaklipp explained to me how knowing WHEN to speak in a negotiation is often underestimated. “Every song that goes on the radio its popularity is a negotiation between the artist and the audience. Take James Brown’s biggest hit “I Got You” and the lyrics of the song for example. The man says maximum 30 words in a verse, chosen and arranged perfectly with the beat to get his point across. That there alone must tell you something.”

Then he emphasized the importance of silence when discussing with strangers. After sharing with me a few instances where running his mouth cost him his lawyer career, and got him a fat lip a couple of times, he concluded with: “Not everybody needs to know every thought that goes through your head. These are dangerous grounds.”

At smoke breaks we remained silent as I took pictures of the coast.

A couple of red lights later, and entirely in the city, Jaklipp turned the radio down and said: “You know, what you did in there over cocktails will give your old man so much joy! Kudos to you for accepting to help out!”

“You mean I could have just said no?” I took a deep breath and dropped the phone on my lap. “I thought no was not a fucking option!” I yelled at him. “How the fuck am I gonna pull off a college admission cover letter?!”

“Relax, kid. They just need something that has an OK structure because that doughnut is too busy playing hustler and video games. The rest will be done with the mayor’s money,” Jaklipp said and scoffed to himself. “Plus, you keep the phone.”

I made a note on my phone to ask my father about the structure of that letter I had now agreed to write in order to keep the phone. Everything’s a trade-off.

“Know when to speak and when to shut up. That was the most valuable lesson your father has taught me,” was the only thing Jaklipp said during the ride back.

He dropped me off at home at around four in the afternoon. I entered my room from the window. Halfway wrestling with kitty on my bed, a waft of smoke sneaked into my room from under the door crack, followed by sizzling sounds.

“Open all the windows. I’m frying fish for dinner.” My mother yelled from the kitchen.

***************************

A couple of hours after Que Sera Sera had echoed from the megaphones, I made sure everyone was asleep, including kitty, and jumped out my bedroom window. I ran on the balls of my feet to make as little noise as possible, holding onto the pockets of my shorts so my lighter and doobie wouldn’t fall out. I sprinted for two blocks, then slowed down to a casual strut. I couldn’t wait for a cocktail, live music and of course to meet Thomas, surrounded by the surreal paintings of Dalí, Duchamp, R. Crumb and other greats, which graced the walls of the bar. “Just one drink,” I thought to myself.

Randy and Thomas were at the bar chatting softly when I arrived. After casual greetings, I pulled up a stool and sat next to Randy. The feline bartender picked up my cocktail with his tail and served it with a sparkle in his eyes, wiggling his whiskers. It took me a couple of seconds to realize I hadn’t ordered. The bartender always knows,I thought to myself. While Thomas visited the bathroom, Randy explained to me that it was going to be a quiet night – Thomas would read some of his prose and poetry alongside a smooth jazz guitar player.

“Yeah… that’s about right,” Thomas slurred when he returned, sounding like he’d already had a few. He stared at the ground in silence for a couple of seconds, then jumped onto his stool next to Randy and crossed his hind legs. I stood in a circle with the others, all enjoying our drinks as we listened to the slow music for a while. I examined a well-lit painting that hung behind Randy: A bare dark room with only a desk and a human-sized cartoon cat hunched over a typewriter, an explosion of words springing from the machine.

Randy tapped me on my shoulder. “Thomas is a gem, kid. He’s a traveler, a writer, an artist and a dirty rat. If only he had a little ambition, he could be as good as a hamster.” He gave a sidewise look to Thomas, checking for his reaction.

“I am all that,” Thomas said. “But as an artist, I prefer the adjectives odorous or spicy,” he added with a self-assuring grin. “Now Randy, what do you think of that old saying ambition causes misery?”

“Your sight and odor bring me misery,” Randy replied with screechy laughter, which immediately made Thomas laugh the same way. The bartender rushed over and placed three shots of liquor in front of us. After we downed them, Thomas pulled me closer to the circle, “What do you think, kid?”

“I’ll have to concur with Randy,” I said playfully, pushing Thomas away. He stared at me up and down, scratching his round belly in approval.

“Ambition is good. Not knowing thyself, on the other hand, that can get you in a shit ton of heartache,” Thomas said and pulled out a small see-through baggie from under his washboard. Golden and purple variegations glittered in the dimly lit room. Randy paused mid-gulp, his eyes locked on the bag.

“Hey Mike!” Thomas shouted to the cat. “Bring us a plate, this is good stuff,” shaking the baggie in the air, “I’ve brought this from the top of the mountain Pico Cristóbal Colón in Colombia. Stars are so close to the peak there, you can gather their dust and use it for healing the psyche.” Thomas turned his attention to me. “My advice to you would be, try not to get caught up in the misery and anxiety of it all. At the hardest of times, remember that happiness can also be snorted. Just aim for balance. Yeah, that’s it. Balance...” Thomas trailed off, muttering to himself.

After a hefty line each, Thomas left to get prepared. I didn’t want to tell Randy that it was just cocaine – I liked the story Thomas had shared better than what it really was. Randy was happily chattering at the speed of light. I was just nodding, trying hard not to zone out into identifying every color on the Rockwell painting hanging behind the feline bartender.

“Thomas invents words, incorporates them in his prose, and it all makes sense,” Randy said at one point.

“What?”

“Yep! Thomas is an excellent student of the human heart and mind, he’s a poet.”

I just nodded and took a sip of my cocktail. The sweet undertones of my drink set off a party at the front of my tongue. The kick of vodka, balancing the bitterness of the dust in the back of my throat, added to the symphony of flavor.

The lights went dark, filling the bar with silence save for the footsteps approaching the stage. The guitar was plugged in and a spotlight was aimed at the guitar player, a raccoon the size of a ten-year-old, who sat in a red velvet chair. After fumbling with the guitar pegs and bridge, it paused for a second. And then MAGIC happened. I could see colors flying off the fret board with every note: baby blue, pearl, lilac, daffodil yellow, burgundy, all coming together to form an immaculate shining carpet that paved the way for Thomas’ words to catwalk.

My inebriated,

life-vibrating,

happily sedated,

full-time hedonists,

lend me your ears.

And have no fear

for I only speak the truth.

Tomorrow I’m sailing...

Randy nudged me, making me almost spill my drink. “There he goes! I told you! Too-mar-row…” he whispered slowly pronouncing every letter.

After a couple of poems and drinks, I decided to hurry up with the sinning and head home. I patted Randy on the back, and he waved one of his legs farewell without taking his eyes off the stage. Thomas had left a couple of lines for me on the plate. I motioned to the bartender and he approached me wiggling his whiskers. “Is it OK if I take this to go?” I whispered to the cat. “Sure thing…” he replied and passed me a baggie for the coke.

That August night on my way home I felt the happiest I’d ever been. I stopped by an all-night corner store and grabbed a sandwich from the fridge. I walked down a back road, munching on ham and cheese. The streetlights exposed a living-room on the first floor of a complex building, where a bald head was accentuated by the blue glow of a TV set. I leaned against a streetlight, chewing. But rather than swallow the last bite, I launched it successfully through the gap and at the TV. As soon as I was certain it had hit, I started running. I wasn’t far when I heard the bald head scream, and I burst out laughing.

I didn’t go to sleep that night. After writing four poems I sat and sucked on cigarettes, looking at the sky changing colors, my soul blossoming like a red rose. Everything was falling into place.

#prose #poetry #prose poetry #fiction #creative writing #writing #dark academia #surrealism #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writers community #Bandcamp

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alascanelk2022 · 2 years

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Ketchikan/Alaska. Einer der größten Rainforests der Welt.

Das schlimmste Erlebnis für mich: das Dixi Klo am Regenwald🥺 meine Güte, Horror pur.

Bären haben wir leider nicht gesehen, dafür sahen wir viel bear poop. Haben die Wanderung der Lachse zum Teil sehen können, mehr noch aber die unzähligen Lachsleichen, angefressen von den Bären, die nur auf die Eier und das Gehirn des Lachses stehen und den Rest liegen lassen. Es schwebt ein Lachsleichengeruch überall herum. Yuck.

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bumblesimagines · 4 years

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Dixie Boy

Request: Yes or No

I know you've got designs on my man

I see you giving him the eye

And I don't like what I see

And I know you don't want to get into it with me

Betty watched Veronica. She already had Archie, practically stole him away from right under her nose. Betty got over when (Y/N) entered her life. The moment they were paired up, Betty knew she would like (Y/N). He was on the soccer team, got good grades, showed everyone kindess. Archie was similar but Betty realized it was just a simple childhood crush. She moved on and Veronica got with him. It started to feel like Veronica just wanted to isolate Betty. Maybe she was like Cheryl but just more quiet and subtle about it.

'Cause like a soldier defends his land

Well I stand up, I get up, I defend my man

So don't make me ask you twice

'Cause I asked you once and I asked you nice

Keep your damn hands off my

Dixie Boy

"Veronica, can we talk? In private?" Betty asked softly. Veronica looked up from her phone, nodding.

"We'll be right back, gents." Veronica smiled, eyes flickering to (Y/N). (Y/N) leaned forward.

"Think they're planning our murder?" (Y/N) asked playfully. Archie leaned forward, nodding.

"Should we make a run for it?" Archie grinned. They shared a laugh while Veronica giggled, rolling her eyes. They got up, walking walking to the bathroom.

"What's up, B?" Veronica smiled. Betty licked her lips, hands tucking into the back pockets of her jeans. She let out a soft sigh.

"How are you and Archie?" She asked. Veronica tilted her head.

"As far as I know, fine. Did Archie mention anything?" Veronica asked, brows furrowing. Betty shook her head, a small smile appearing on her face.

"No, of course not, V. I.. I feel like there's been something with you and (Y/N)." Betty said. Veronica placed a hand on Betty's arm.

"Of course not, B! You're my girl! Besties over guys." Veronica assured. Betty smiled and nodded.

Well, he's sweet, isn't he?

But I'm sorry, ladies, he belongs to me

My Dixie Boy

Well, he's fine, but get in line

'Cause he's mine, he's mine, all mine, all mine

Betty smiled widely as (Y/N) cooed and petted a stray cat. Betty approached him, crouching down beside him. The cat purred, rubbing against (Y/N).

"Come on." Betty grabbed his hand, standing. (Y/N) stood, walking side by side with her. Betty shivered as a cold breeze blew by. (Y/N) noticed, gently taking off his black scarf and stepping infront of her. He wrapped it around her neck, making sure it was covered. He gave a grin.

"There." He pecked her forehead. Betty was thankful her cheeks were already red from the cold or else (Y/N) would've seen her blush. Betty gave him a hug, noticing some girls from school watching.

Well, I know the way that you girls operate

So keep your hands to yourself and your eyes on your own plate

It's not nice to stare

Betty fixed her hair, smiling softly. She grabbed (Y/N)'s scarf, wrapping it around her neck. She headed downstairs, shouting a quick bye to her mom. Betty rushed out before she could get up, going to (Y/N)'s car. She got in, noticing Veronica in the passenger seat. Veronica shot her a smile.

"Hey, B!" She greeted, giving a small wave. Betty smiled back, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Hey, baby." (Y/N) made eye contact with her in the rearview mirror. Betty smiled widely, giving a small wave. (Y/N) started driving, picking up light conversation with Veronica. Betty watched as Veronica smiled widely and let out soft giggles. She held back a scoff, looking out the window.

Don't make me come over there

'Cause ladies, I'm a lady but please understand

When it comes to my boy, I will fight like a man

I will seek, and I will destroy

For the apple of my eye, my pride and joy

My Dixie Boy

Betty took a sip of her drink, cringing at the taste. Reggie had clearly gotten to the cranberry juice. She put her cup down, eyes scanning the wave of people until they landed on (Y/N). A smile appeared on her face though it fell when she spotted Veronica near. Veronica laughed at something and placed a hand on his arm. Betty licked her lips, walking over. Red appeared suddenly. Bettt blinked, stopping herself before she could bump into Cheryl.

"And where are you going, dearest cousin?" Cheryl cocked a brow. Betty cleared her throat.

"To (Y/N)." She replied, peeking over her shoulder. Reggie had joined them, arms around (Y/N) and Chuck. Betty let out a soft sigh. Cheryl turned.

"You seemed to be quite in a hurry. Did you think Veronica was gonna steal a kiss?" Cheryl asked, head tilting. Betty looked at her.

"What?"

"Oh, please, cousin. Veronica is shameless in her flirting." Cheryl shrugged.

Well, he's sweet, isn't he?

But I'm sorry, ladies, he belongs to me

My Dixie Boy

Well, he's fine, but get in line

'Cause he's mine, he's mine, all mine, all mine

"Flirting?" Betty repeated. Cheryl nodded, twirling a strand of her fiery hair around her finger.

"She's truly a viper." Cheryl muttered, shaking her head. "She gives the Vixens a bad rep."

"What type of flirting?" Betty asked, arms crossing. Cheryl hummed, shrugging lightly.

"Coy smiles, laughing too loud, putting her hand on his arm.." Cheryl trailed off, watching Betty.

Well, he's sweet, isn't he?

"I'm sure if Archie wasn't in the picture, she'd strike." Cheryl shrugged, spinning around and walking away. Betty licked her lips, looking at (Y/N). She quickly went over to him.

"I'm not feeling well." She said. "Take me home?"

I'm a lover not a fighter and I don't want to have to get rough

I'm just warning you ahead of time

I can be a bitch when it comes to my stuff

So keep your damn hands off my

Dixie Boy

Betty stared at the ice covered lake. She knew which parts were unstable and which weren't. She had multiple plans if one didn't work. She glanced at Veronica once she had her ice skates on. Betty gave her a smile, getting on the ice. Veronica followed, freely skating. Betty watched her, watching the ice crack. Betty made her move when Veronica stopped, skating forward and slamming into Veronica. Veronica went forward, falling and sliding across the ice, stopping on unstable ice. She huffed, looking at Betty.

"What the hell?" She went to stand but froze when the ice cracked under her. Veronica swallowed, slowly standing and staying still as more ice cracked. Betty watched her, anxious. Veronica yelped when she fell, ice immediately cracking and sending her into the freezing water. Betty waited, hearing her screams and the splashing. She moved forward but stopped when ice cracked under her. She moved back, waiting for Veronica's pleas to get weaker. Betty took off her skates and ran off, going to their bags. She grabbed her phone, typing in a number.

"911? Please! My friend fell! She's in the water! Come quickly, please!" Betty cried into the phone, trying to sound as convincing as possible. She waited on the phone, sniffling and trying to cry more. By the time the rescue team arrived, the water was calm. Betty pointed them in the direction and explained everything to Sheriff Keller.

Well, he's sweet, yes indeed

Back off, hands off 'cause he's sweet on me

My Dixie Boy

Betty saw (Y/N) and jogged over, arms wrapping around him.

"O-one minute she was here and the next.." Betty sniffled. (Y/N) hugged her back, rubbing her back.

"It's not your fault, Betty." (Y/N) assured, trying to comfort his girlfriend. Betty leaned back, sighing softly. She sniffled, head resting on his chest. She finally had him.

"She's breathing!" A paramedic called. Betty turned her head, watching as Veronica was pulled into the ambulance.

Well, he's fine, but get in line

Tell you one more time, the boy is mine

He's mine, mine, mine, mine, all mine, all mine

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #riverdale #riverdale x reader #riverdale x male reader #riverdale x you #riverdale x y/n #betty cooper #betty cooper x reader #betty cooper x male reader #betty cooper x you #betty cooper x y/n #tw murder #veronica lodge #archie andrews #song fic

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scribbling-stiks · 3 years

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Retrievers - XLIII - Unstable Flights

A loud cheer erupts from below, and Russia's heart skips a beat. America swoops into the air, blood falling from him into the abyss from his foot, which is glowing a light blue.

On his back is a huge set of glowing, bright blue wings. They look like that of a falcon and are around twenty-five or twenty-seven meters wingspan if Russia had to guess. Russia stares up with wide eyes, and his mouth goes dry.

'Beautiful.'

America hoots and folds the wings in. He dives down and snatches Kansas up into the air. Kansas shrieks and clings to America's arms. America soars across and drops Kansas just above the ground. Kansas rolls to a stop and America snatches up New Mexico and Alabama, one under each arm.

America's foot bleeds furiously. Russia's heart sinks further.

'He's losing a lot of blood.'

America starts to get wobbly after getting Mississippi and the Carolinas across. Russia bites his tongue. The thing begins shredding the door, and Russia can hear it as it rips the metal.

'He's hurting himself.'

The door bends, and Russia slams against it.

'But we don't have another choice.'

America grabs North Dakota and Florida and flies them across. He sinks lower and lower. He just barely avoids crashing into a tree.

"I don't think I trust that!" Ukraine screams.

"It's our only chance!" Finland argues.

South Dakota and Alberta have been treacherously flown across. America circles around and tosses Texas and Ohio into the treeline. Russia makes eye contact with Ukraine. Mexico hoots as she's dropped into the trees.

"Go," Russia demands.

The door bows toward them and Finland pushes back. Ukraine runs over to the edge and America swoops down and grabs him. Ukraine yelps and sings wildly. America's flight becomes jerky. The door begins to push apart. Russia cringes.

'It's about to break.'

Finland looks at him and then glances at her gun that lays discarded right in front of the doors. Russia nods. Finland jumps back and Russia rolls out of the way when the creature comes crashing through. Russia looks up to Finland screaming. He freezes.

The creature has her by the upper arm, thrashing around and blood goes everywhere. Then she flies toward the wall and lands with a yelp. Russia runs over and his blood runs cold.

Finland is bleeding profusely from where her right elbow used to be. Russia freezes for a moment when he hears the creature start gnashing its teeth again. He spins to see it jumping up at America, who is slow to react and ascend. Russia charges.

"GET FIN!" Russia shouts, shoulder checking the beast.

America nods sluggishly and grabs her with some difficulty. They looked like a bloody raincloud. The thing rushed at Russia, and he side-steps. It rams into the wall at full force, leaving a dent behind. But it's quick to hop back to its feet. Russia backs up as it stalks toward him.

Rocks slide out from under his feet, and Russia looks back to see cracks of earth that lead to darkness.

'And probably death.'

The thing lunges. Russia backs up out of instinct. His feet leave the ground. Wind rushes through his ears. He flails in panic.

Hands grab him under his shoulders. He's yanked up, and the arms are shaking and unstable.

He opens his eyes to see an approaching sheer cliff of dirt and stone. He readies himself for impact. Then, he's yanked upwards and dropped into the grass. He rolls to a stop. He looks up to find America, only to see him limply falling toward the ground.

"BEAM!"

A deafening crash interrupts him. America falls out of view and Russia chases after him. He follows the bloody trench to America. He's curled on the ground in a growing pool of blood.

"America?!" Russia asks desperately.

Russia pulls America up, and the wings disappear. America looks up with a weak smile.

"Hi, Ruby."

"Oh thank God," Russia mumbles.

Russia pulls America's feet out from under him and gasps. New Mexico shrieks.

Almost a third of his foot is missing, and the shoe itself had been shredded. All the smaller toes, save the one next to the big toe, are gone. The tendons and muscles twitch. The whole thing glows a flickering blue.

Then his heart stops and he jumps up. North Dakota and Florida take his place and begin to cover America's foot in gauze they retrieve from a first aid kid North Dakota had packed. Mexico turns America on his side into a recovery position. Alberta collects pine needles and Ohio drops his jacket over it to create a cushion for the foot.

At least, what's still left of it. Russia swallows back nausea.

"Where's Fin?" Russia demands.

South Carolina looks up from bandaging North Carolina and mutely points. Russia runs out of the tree cover to see Finland writhing, holding the stump that remained of her arm. Texas is standing nearby, holding his belt.

"I need to stop the bleeding!" Texas screams, trying to wrestle Finland.

Russia runs forward and grabs Finland into a bear hug against his chest. At least, he tries. He wraps his arms around her chest and pulls her back to him. Blood soaks his shirt.

"You have to calm down or you're going to bleed to death!" Russia screams into Finland's ear.

Finland stills and Texas jumps over her legs. He grabs her arm.

"I'm puttin' on a tourniquet. I know it's gonna hurt, but I can't have you bleeding out on me."

Texas secures the belt as close to the shoulder joint as he can manage. Finland screams as he tightens it. Russia's heart sinks. He holds tighter.

"We have to get out of plain sight," Russia says.

Texas nods. Texas takes Finland's ankles, and Russia carefully hoists Finland up with her good arm. Finland bits her good hand to muffle her cries of pain. Russia flinches with every single one.

They manage to drag Finland back to America, where Kansas, Ohio, and South Dakota start making a camp of sorts. Mexico is crouching behind America, rubbing his back. America is crying. The tears make Russia's heart shatter.

Alabama and Mississippi run into the area with sticks and twigs and New Mexico arranges rocks to form a firepit.

"Do you have any painkillers in there?" Finland asks.

"No. Sorry," North Dakota replies, her voice sounds strained.

"Oh... okay," Finland mumbles, her head lulling back.

"Hey, don't go to sleep," Ohio says, prodding at her face.

"Okay," Finland replies with a groan, "God, now I need a new arm."

The trees form a canopy above them, but there is enough room on the ground to have a fire. Russia finds himself incredibly grateful for it. Brazil clears the area inside and around the rocks. Ukraine is standing nearby, looking frozen.

America pulls himself against a tree behind him. His eyes light up again. Livid.

"All of you. Here. Now."

Texas walks forward. New Mexico, South Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi, and North Carolina shuffle forward. Brazil and Mexico try to collect more wood. Russia sits next to America.

"Why are you here?" America demands.

"We wanted to help."

"That isn't true," Kansas says, crossing his arms, "and if it is, it's not everything."

Texas looks away.

"I will ask you again. Why are you here?"

"I..."

"Did Dixie let you leave?" America snaps, his magic flashing.

"No! No, he didn't even know."

"You didn't tell him?!"

Texas stares at the ground. America moves his gaze to the others. Alabama shrinks away. Mississippi looks at his feet. North Carolina sits down, and South Carolina helps her down. New Mexico stares next to America's head.

"Whose idea was it?"

"..."

"I asked a question!"

Texas mumbles something, and America tries to stand. Russia jumps up and pulls him back down.

"Beam, you have to sit down."

America growls and falls back. He lays his bandaged foot out in front of him.

"Texas!" America shouts, "come here!"

Texas shuffles forward, his shoulders hunched.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Why did you come here?! Why did you think this was a good idea? YOU WERE TOLD TO STAY HOME FOR A REASON!"

Texas' shoulders shake a little. America doesn't seem to notice.

"And not only did you decide to come here, which was a stupid decision, by the way, but you also dragged your siblings along! Did they even want to come?!"

Texas pauses before shaking his head. Texas takes his hat off and begins twisting it between his hands.

"We were fine! We were okay! And now-"

Russia puts a hand on America's shoulder.

"Meri, please. Calm down."

"Why?!"

"You're going to say something you're going to regret."

America growls.

"Now we-"

"America!" Russia shouts.

"Why won't you let me finish?!"

Russia flinches and his ears fold down.

"It's not his fault."

"It would've gone much better if they just stayed home! We almost died, Russia!"

Russia leans away for a second, his ears pinning back. He looks up to see Texas swiping at his face.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be! You should not have left! You're not okay!"

"Well, I don't want to be useless!" Texas screams.

America flinches back, gasping a little.

"Baby..." America mumbles, regret filling his voice.

"I'm sorry I keep fucking everything up, okay?! I'm just trying to help! I don't- I didn't want anyone to get hurt..."

Sobs escape Texas' mouth. The anger that had filled Russia's chest dissipates.

"I didn't think I'd fuck this up too. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left. I know Dixie is angry. I know you're angry. I'm so sorry."

"Tazzy," America says softly, "I'm not just angry. I'm always worried about you, all of you, and now I find out that you left without letting anyone know. What if you got captured? What if you went missing? What if you died?!"

Texas starts crying. Russia stands up and opens his arms. Texas slowly walks into him and hugs him. Russia could feel Texas hugging him tightly. Russia begins purring, trying to comfort his own swirling emotions and Texas' as well. Texas quiets and shakes.

Alabama and Mississippi hug Russia as well, both teary-eyed. Russia opens his arms and continues purring as loud as he can. America starts crying himself, and Russia's tail puffs up a little.

Mexico pulls America into a side-hug. Finland whines and groans, looking at her nub with confusion. Alberta sits quietly at Ukraine's feet. South Carolina shivers violently against North Carolina. The rest of the states try to start a fire with the driest sticks they could. A cold wind whips through the trees.

'What a mess.'

Table of Contents

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ecky2103 · 3 years

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Am Sonntag 22.8.2021 KulturBummel Bühne 1 Tecklenburg-Bühne 01 - Marktplatz THEMA: Live Bands & Musik BEGINN NAME ART/STIL 12:00 Uhr Coincidence Akustik-Duo mit Songs aus dem Bereich Rock, Folk 13:00 Uhr Jörg Hegemann Boogie Woogie am Piano 14:00 Uhr ABC handgemachter Blues & Soul 15:00 Uhr Recall Rock´n Oldies Klassiker aus dem Genre des Rock 'n' Roll 16:00 Uhr Andrés C. Ruppel & Friends Jazz 17:00 Uhr Chili Rock, Pop, Cover KulturBummel Bühne 2 Bummelbühne 02 - Kirchplatz THEMA: Musikgruppen, Musikvereine und Chor BEGINN NAME ART/STIL 12:00 Uhr Rhythmusgruppe Directors Cut Rock & Pop im neuen SOUND 13:00 Uhr MC Waldeslust Klassisches Liedgut und moderne Lieder im Männerchorgewand 14:00 Uhr Dixie Friends Dixie im klassischen Sound von Bläsern und Banjo 15:00 Uhr Musikverein Broekhuysen alte und neue Lieder im typischen Sound der Blasmusik 16:00 Uhr Musikverein Cäcilia alte und neue Lieder im typischen Sound der Blasmusik 17:00 Uhr Gospart Chor Gospelmusik – mal auf die eine – mal auf die andere BEGINN NAME ART/STIL ART KulturBummel Bühne 3 Bummelbühne 03 - Parkplatz Klosterstraße/Tedi THEMA: Jazz und Folk BEGINN NAME ART/STIL 12:00 Uhr Patatras Duo Klassik, Beatles, Folk - alles im handgemachten Sound 13:00 Uhr Xylo-Fun-Goch Familienband - beswingte Stücke mit Xylophon, Banjo und Kontrabass 14:00 Uhr MAC - Irish Folk irische Jigs, Reels und Hornpipes sowie einige besinnliche Songs 15:00 Uhr Krieewelsche Fente Lieder vom Niederrhein und Mundartlieder aus der Heimatstadt Krefeld und Folk-Songs 16:00 Uhr Duo Mikado Songs aus allen Stilrichtungen behutsam und filigran interpretiert 17:00 Uhr FineTune (Duo) keltische Musik, aus Irland, Schottland, der Bretagne KulturBummel Bühne 4 Bummelbühne 04 - Parkplatz Klosterstraße/Kodi THEMA: MUSIK-LIVE und Special-Performance BEGINN NAME ART/STIL 12:00 Uhr Kleinbahn Rock, Blues und Jazz mit Keyboard, Bass, Gitarre & Schlagzeug 13:00 Uhr Senora Jazz vom Feinsten 14:00 Uhr AntjeFrankbert Quartett Jazzquartett vom Niederrhein mit Saxophon, Bass, BEGINN NAME ART/STIL Gitarre und Schlagzeug 15:00 Uhr Dark Fantasia (Live-Kunst- Performance) LIVE Performance: Vor den Augen des Publikums entsteht ein Bild mit Klammern und Fäden 16:00 Uhr Martin Hötte Blues und Soul – sein aktuelles Programm: Songs Along The Road 17:00 Uhr Karl Timmermann Entertainer vom Niederrhein mit Schlagern, Oldies, Songs der Bee Gees und eigene Songs KulturBummel Bühne 5 Bummelbühne 05 - Jugendzentrum (JuSt) – Schulhof Lingsforter Straße THEMA: Bands LIVE – von Folk über Pop bis Rock BEGINN NAME ART/STIL 13:00 UhrWorldhamster Folkband kleine musikalische Reise aus irischen Jigs/Reels, skandinavischer Polska 14:00 Uhr Leander Rosche SOLO - Entertainer - Seitens der Jugendarbeit Straelen 15:00 Uhr Saitensprung Deluxe 3 Mann, 3 Gitarren & lustige Musik 16:00 Uhr Gate 48 Rock/Hard Rock/Metal Projekt 17:00 Uhr TightMax Cover-Hardrock - Direkt aus Straelen KulturBummel Bühne 6 Bummelbühne 06 - Jugendzentrum (JuSt) - Parkplatz Marienstraße THEMA: Singer-Songwriter, Duos und Solisten BEGINN NAME ART/STIL 12:00 Uhr 2 Make Music Musikduo mit buntem Repertoire aus Schlager, Rock und Oldies 13:00 Uhr Annie & Ben bekannte Pop-, Rock- und Soulklassiker mit eigener Note 14:00 Uhr Duo Belcanto Gitarren-Gesangs-Duo Oldies, Jazz-Standards, Folklore, Deutsche Schlager- und Volksmusik 15:00 Uhr Dennis John Marcel Ophey Solokünstler, der Fingerpicking im Folk Stil spielt – Singer Song- Writer 16:00 Uhr Duo „Next-Live“ Gitarre & Gesang - Rock bis Blues KulturBummel Bühne 7 Bummelbühne 07 - Caritas-Zentrum Straelen - Venloer Straße THEMA: Theater, Kunst und Literatur BEGINN NAME ART/STIL 12:00 Uhr Stockfleit Friedhelm Solo Mundharmonikaspieler 12:45 Uhr Erich Carl Reimereien - von locker bis flockig, Autorenlesung 13:00 Uhr Jasmin Jülicher Straelener Autorin liest aus ihren aktuellen Steam- Punk-Romanen 13:15 Uhr Heinz Velmans & Jürgen Coenes Stöckskes in Stroelse Mundart 13:30 Uhr Bernard Bauguitte Theater, Puppenspiel für Klein und Groß 14:00 Uhr Erich Carl Reimereien - von locker bis flockig, Autorenlesung BEGINN NAME ART/STIL 14:15 Uhr Heinz Velmans & Jürgen Coenes Stöckskes in Stroelse Mundart 14:30 Uhr Bernard Bauguitte Theater, Puppenspiel für Klein und Groß 15:00 Uhr Jasmin Jülicher Straelener Autorin liest aus ihren aktuellen Steam- Punk-Romanen 15:15 Uhr Ensemble Weihnachtsmärchen Straelen Lieder aus den vergangenen Weihnachtsmärchen 15:30 Uhr Bernard Bauguitte Theater, Puppenspiel für Klein und Groß 16:00 Uhr Jasmin Jülicher Straelener Autorin liest aus ihren aktuellen Steam- Punk-Romanen 16:15 Uhr Ensemble Weihnachtsmärchen Straelen Lieder aus den vergangenen Weihnachtsmärchen 16:30 Uhr Bernard Bauguitte Theater, Puppenspiel für Klein und Groß 17:00 Uhr Jasmin Jülicher Straelener Autorin liest aus ihren aktuellen Steam- Punk-Romanen 17:15 Uhr Ensemble Weihnachtsmärchen Straelen Lieder aus den vergangenen Weihnachtsmärchen KulturBummel Bühne 8 Bummelbühne 08 - Kleiner Markt / "ehemals Pilz" THEMA: Live-Performance Body-Painting BEGINN NAME ART/STIL 12:00 Corinna Lenzen GANZTÄGIG ART-Style - Live Performance - Body-Painting (Körper-Bemalung) Das Publikum ist quasi hautnah und LIVE bei der Entstehung lebendiger Kunstwerke dabei – Faszination pur!

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dixieandherbabies · 1 year

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Dixie and her babies.

What do you mean I’m purring too loud for you to sleep?!? Or hear the tv!

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harryforvogue · 3 years

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15? (maybe i just wanna see dixie again but you don’t know that ;)

15. Have any pets?

YETH

she was purring so dis bitch liked it ok

#baby dixie

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sharedshield · 4 years

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And, let’s do another one right away. Again much love to @imtheinvisiblequeen who tagged me <33

nickname: Jessi more often than not, at this point I’m weirded out when someone calls me by my full name

zodiac: Taurus, babeyy

Hogwarts House: Look, here’s the thing, Pottermore says I’m a Slytherin (just like my sister btw) but most of my friends would put me into Ravenclaw, so I guess something in between those two

last thing I googled: still the translator function

song stuck in my head: still The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down, but now the Fratellis with Chelsea Dagger as well

number of followers: 282

amount of sleep: usually around 7 hours, but it’s currently less ‘cause it’s so hot

lucky number: idk, I usually say 7 because that’s the numbers of my date of birth combined

dream job: oh, cut it out with those hard hitting questions... let’s see.. realistically speaking? Something around PR in the film or music scene, if I could pick any job then maybe actress or musician

wearing: a black dress with white dots

favourite song: I don’t really have the one favourite song? I’ve been listening to Union City Blues by Blondie and Crazy by Daniela Andrade a lot recently

favourite instrument: piano and ukulele, ‘cause I play those, but I really like the electric bass

aesthetic: nights on the beach, a desk overflowing with paper, fairy lights over your bed

favourite author(s): idk, I read for the story not because of the author, there’s a lot of different stuff in my shelves

favourite animal noises: my cat purring against my chest, the sparrows chirping on the roof directly over my head in summer

random fact: this year marks the 18th year that I’ve been dancing in my group

I’m tagging no one in particular, just do it if you want to spill some beans and tag me so we can interact :)

#tag #imtheinvisiblequeen #thanks mari!

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moe-lazyeye · 3 years

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Agree to Strongly Disagree pt. 3 (botgd 2)

1 X 2 X

Malak’s hand rested on the windowsill as he gazed out at the frost crusted yard that surrounded his house...and the lone figure that stood in it. He drew a thin stream of air through his nose, and then grabbed his coat. “Opie...” He growled softly. “Stay near the back door...”

The young man glanced over at him from where he sat on the couch, and then carefully got up. “That’s a concerning tone of voice you got there dad.”

Malak glanced back at him, and then pulled the door open a crack. “It’ll be okay...just being cautious.” He slipped out and took a few steps off his porch before he came to a stop. The half breed pushed his hands into his pockets against the cold. “Mr. Donz...” He greeted.

“Please.” Dixie said. “Donz was...well...most of my relative’s names. Dixie...please.”

“Is my son alright?”

Dixie blinked a few times. “Yes of course.” He assured. “Farris is a fine employee, and a good man. Not to mention, truly...the most fortunate of the lot of you.”

Malak relaxed a little. Despite his journey to resist the urges of favoritism, and his less than pleasant last encounter with Farris, Malak would always have that soft spot for his son. To know that he was well was a relief. The release of tension did not last long though, as Malak gave a light frown. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure? My son and I...we aren’t supposed to be around too many people.”

“Hm, yes...and who decided that?”

Malak set his jaw a little. “We did.”

Dixie bobbed his head. “Naturally. A meeting of erroring in caution and the moral dilemma of not being able to take it back.”

Malak’s legs began to curl tighter together around his shoulders and back. “Mr. Dixie...I can’t begin to thank you for what you’ve done for my son...but why are you here?”

There was a pause. A very grim, and tense pause between the two men. At last Dixie opened his mouth. “I’ve seen a pattern Malak. My great uncle, or whatever he was, had Darien in his hands. But chose to keep him alive to serve a greater good for his cause. My cousin had Darien in his hands, but chose to let him live for the greater good of his own morality...how many times has Darien ended up in the hands of people, and left without a scrape?”

Malak swallowed as he remembered his own encounter with Darien. He hadn’t been able to kill him. His own shortcomings had made him feel like a hypocrite for even thinking of doing so, and another part of him hadn’t wanted to upset Grey.

Dixie went on as he paced a little bit, his hands animated. “And I, myself, had him cornered one day...and chose to only berate him verbally. I mean...” He gave a scoff. “What kind of Donz am I?”

Malak wasn’t sure why he decided to speak his mind so plainly in that moment. But he did anyway. “To be perfectly fair sir, based on what you’ve described before that is very much like what a Donz would do.”

Suddenly the ice under his feet wasn’t the coldest thing in the area as Dixie set his eyes on him. “I see...” He breathed, and Malak felt as though he had been dipped in ice water. Dixie’s fingers laced around his cane as he then pitched forward to lean on it heavily. “Donz’s are people of action, objectively, and justice. I’m afraid this rebellion is only used to dealing with the outliers of our family name. But...you are correct in a sense. I, like them, didn’t follow through.” Dixie gave a small laugh and shake of his head. “Oh dear Malak, I know you and your son suffered...but I also know what you did...”

Malak felt himself take a step back. “How-?”

“Please.” Dixie practically purred. “How many people did you rape over the course of that decade of darkness? It wasn’t hard to find people still talking about it, and to find information on the survivors. Something tells me you, unlike others, are a little more aware of the impossibility of your situation.”

Malak had gone very pale. “Are any of them...are they....do they know where my sons are?”

“Farris will be protected. After all, he had no choice in the crimes he committed.” Dixie assured. “And I didn’t tell anyone anything about you and Opie. But those people are out there Malak. And as a matter of principle...” Dixie pulled back the side of his coat a little, just enough to reveal the zippleback slug thrower at his side. He studied the man in front of him. “Mercy and reform is what will build a nation Malak...but I’ve spoken to the man who’s actions are still causing the death and enslavement of thousands. I’ve spoken to a child murderer and village burner. And I’ve spoken to you. You, all, of, you, are a little beyond a crime of passion, a swindle, or a theft don’t you think?”

Malak stood rigidly in place now, his hands balled up into tight fists.

“Tell me Malak.” Dixie went on, and this time there was a touch of passion in his otherwise cool voice. “What do they all have in common? A realization that they did something wrong? Is that all it takes? What would have happened to Rhenco if he had simply said sorry?! Look at me...I’m here ranting all of this to you just like I’ve done with everyone else? Why?! Why can’t anyone, including myself, just commit to something?!”

Malak adverted his eyes, having no idea if that weapon would be brought up, or whether it would stay at Dixie’s side. “Because...” He said, almost too quietly. “Because we made it impossible for you too...”

Dixie drew a breath at the words, and actually leaned back a little. “Wha-?”

“Our situation...is impossible.” Malak said. “But that includes you...it includes Grey...I, the Phantom, Darien...we could never atone for what we’ve done. But we can’t live in a world of retribution and blood anymore. But that applies to everyone around us too now. You can’t commit to either letting it go or doing us in yourself without it causing you pain, and having some part of it, that can’t be ignored, be terribly, terribly wrong by doing so.” He gave a shaky sigh. “And yet...life has a way I suppose. It finds us both the most fitting ends, and the most cruel. Darien is working to undo what he’s done. I’m waiting to see what life decides to do with me. And the Phantom is simply working to move on. And you’re here, doing this, and Grey is there...standing by what she chose, doubtless assaulted by the hearsay people in your position have thrown at her. Because of our actions...everyone’s situation is impossible...that’s why you’ve gone back and forth between so many without actually taking action.”

Dixie stared at Malak in some shock, but not offence. He glanced off to the side as the realization dawned on him, and let his coat fall back into place. “Impossible...” He said. “I...too...in the impossible...” He barked a short laugh. “It’s not fair.”

Malak lowered his head. “Yeah...”

Dixie ran a tongue over his lower lip. “This rebellion, and it’s good graces, simply can’t be something I sacrifice...and therefore I...will never be able to do ether one of these things...and live with the choice...for the rest of my mortal life...” He turned to face Malak, and his eyes were cold again. “Thank you Malak...give Opie my regards.”

And with that, he turned on a heel, and left. Malak let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and then hurried back inside so he could take Opie into an enormous hug of relief.

***

“You’re absolutely certain of this sir?” The older man sighed as he reviewed a drafted document.

Dixie lowered a cup of tea from his lips. “Oh most certainly.” He breathed. “I may be willing to let life handle affairs for me. But I will not leave this world burdened in my death, not when I could have done something about it when I was alive...trust me, this is the only sensible middle of the road to met at.”

The older man puffed out his cheeks as he shook his head. “Alright then...I’ll get this to the right people, and have those savings accounts stocked. Then it’ll be official. At the time of your death, whatever time that may be, the bounties will be made available. And with the prices you’ve put up, I highly doubt Darien, Phantom, or any of the others will live to see the turn of a season.”

#botgd 2

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blizzardmuses · 4 years

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@bludhavenbluebird wants Batgirl!

“Pretty Bird i’m getting jealous” Babs purred pushing the files on Poison Ivy to one side to slide herself on the desk, index finger curling under Dixie’s chin as she nuzzled her with a beaming smile. “You got a gorgeous red head right here who hasn’t been kissed in the last...ouh..” she looked dramatically at her wrist watch. “Twenty minutes” they had a mission yes but maybe a five minute break from studying police reports would be allowable.

#bludhavenbluebird #m:batgirl

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dixiemotion · 4 years

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Après avoir vécu une jolie petite histoire avec toi, ce que j’aimerais surtout, serait que tu te souviennes de moi de cette manière :

Je veux que tu te souviennes de moi, en train d'écouter le bruit de ton cœur battre et de tracer des cartes sur ta peau. Souviens-toi que je riais de tes blagues, même les plus stupides, et qu’il mettait impossible d’arrêter de sourire à tes côtés. Souviens-toi de moi, quand je faisais tout pour être la plus jolie à tes yeux, mais qu’au final, c’était moi qui te mangeais du regard. Souviens-toi de mon moi spontanée, où lorsque l’on commençait par un cap ou pas cap, on finissait le soir même dans les bras de l’un et l’autre dans une petite rue de Paris. Souviens toi de nos nuits entrelacées et embrasées, où l’on passait du plus doux au plus torride. Ma main dans la tienne, à te suivre partout où tu oses aller, mes petits pieds qui n’en pouvaient tellement plus que j’ai faillis tomber, mais dont finalement j’en suis réellement tomber, tomber sous ton charme, de ta douceur, de ta sécurité, de ton amour, humour, l’apaisement le plus pur qu’il m’ait était offert jusqu’à aujourd’hui. Souviens-toi à quel point tu me rendais heureuse, épanouie, et de toutes les manières ridicules que j'ai essayé d’entreprendre pour attirer ton attention. Souviens-toi de la façon dont j'étais trop têtue pour te parler et à quel point ça nous a rendus fous tous les deux. Souviens-toi de tous nos premiers moments et à quel point on aurait aimé pouvoir les vivres à répétition tous les jours. Souviens-toi des chansons qu’on ne pouvait pas s’arrêter d'écouter ou bien de chanter ensemble, des rêves enfantins, des voyages que l’on souhaitait tant partager. Si cela peut te consoler, moi je me souviendrais toujours de tous ces petits détails, de toi, de nous, de ces 2 fois que j’ai passées avec toi et où je me suis dit « pour lui, je pourrais tout ». De ta façon de m’aimer, et de me faire comprendre que je le mérite. De toutes ces fois où je t’ai dit que je me sentais ridicule lorsque je faisais certaines choses, mais que tu me répondais que tu les faisais aussi. Tu auras été mon petit porte bonheur, le temps d’un moment. Merci pour toute cette confiance que tu m’as redonné en moi, et pour tout cet amour sincère que j‘ai pu ressentir pour la première fois. J’espère le revivre un jour, et je te le souhaite aussi. -Dixie

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how-queerious · 4 years

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CAT CONTENT BECAUSE I JUST REALIZED THAT IN ALMOST FIVE YEARS OF HAVING THIS BLOG I HAVE NOT GIVEN Y'ALL ANY!

This is Mokey (yes named after the fraggle)! She is also affectionately referred to as Keeks, Kiki, Keekers, Mokeeks, Mokeekee, and Idiot. She is just over 12 years old now, and is our other cats bio mom! She has very soft fur, and can be very kind and affectionate, but She Will Stab A Bitch. She frequently enjoys laying in the sun, laying in the middle of walkways in order to attack people as they walk by, and trying to escape through any outside door that is open. She is also an absolute sook, especially for my stepdad. She does her fair share of mischeif, including (but not limited to) moving the water dish all over the dining room and "grooming" you if you lie down on the floor near her. Its hard to make her purr, but that makes it even better when she does!

Our other cat is Earl Grey! Mostly called Earl, he is also known as Early Bird, Mearly bird, Mearl, Shmearly, Moo, MooMoo, Dumb Stupid Idiot Baby, Dumb Baby, Whiny Baby, Fatimus Maximus, and Little Shit Disturber. Yes, we love singing Goodbye Earl by the Dixie Chicks at him. He's just turned 11, is around 17 pounds, and has slightly less soft furn than Mokey. He likes to lay flopped out on his back, attack his mother while she minds her own business, sit on peoples papers, "help" my mom with her work by sitting on her keyboard, eating his mothers food, and bounding up and down the halls while splaying his back legs out like a rabbit in order to avoid tripping on his gut. He is a total pushover, and has tolerated being used as a bookstand, being carried around excessively by my little sister, and having various small (lightweight) items placed across his back while he sits. He will come runnign from where ever he's hiding the minute he hears the treat bag, and will then agressively bap your hand until you give him one. He also loves to stalk our fish and attempt to eat our plecko's algae wafers, and will yell at three am for water even when there is plenty of fresh stuff in the water dish. He is near constantly purring, a weird juxtaposition to his mother, and is a sooky baby for anyone who will give him attention.

#catblr #yes there's more about moo #but thatz because he does more #my cat #cat content #dumb babies #the both of them

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scribbling-stiks · 3 years

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Retrievers - XLVIII - Cave Dwellers

*I was going to finish this digitally, but I am currently mentally exhausted and lost motivation, so fuck it. I included most of the characters, so I win. I hope y'all enjoy.*

The wind howls outside. Long sticks scrap against the walls of the cave. Russia cringes at the noise. The cave holds the heat better than Russia expected. Russia continues purring, and he curls up a little more, trying his best to conserve his heat.

Most of the states begin to disperse. Four people stay against him, and New Mexico begins peaking around the wall next to his head. Russia's fur prickles as a violently shivering Florida buries himself in between Russia's back leg and his body.

'He must be freezing.'

Mexico takes the jacket and boots that America had grabbed from their campsite.

'It must be the stuff I took off.'

'...now I can't even wear shoes. I like shoes.'

Russia pouts a little and turns his head to the outside. He squints against the wind. Warmth trickles out from above his head. He tries to lay his head down again, but tree branches crash together and his ears perk up.

His head pokes up again and he glances at the whipping tree branches.

Suddenly, he feels shifting against his fur, and Texas' hat pokes into Russia's side. Russia almost starts nudging him over when Alabama catches his eye and shakes his head vehemently.

"(Don't wake him up. Please,)" Alabama signs frantically.

"Don't wake him up," Mississippi says, sitting in front of America.

Russia nods and settles on his legs, trying not to jostle Florida or Texas. He turns back outside, but he still listens to the conversations behind him.

"Is Texas okay?" America asks cautiously, holding his light in front of his face.

"Well... not really. He hasn't been sleeping."

"Like York's not sleeping or..?"

"He don't even take naps. This is the first time he been sleepin' since y'all left."

America's face falls and his head tilts down.

"I didn't.._____"

Russia tries to focus on America's mouth, but can't read the words. America makes a weird noise and the blue light flickers. Russia resists the urge to rush over and begins purring to comfort himself.

"Daddy!" Mississippi exclaims, grabbing America by his shoulders.

"America?" Ukraine asks.

"Sorry, my magic... I just.... I'm tired."

Mississippi helps America lie down while New Mexico, Ohio, and Kansas crowd around them, panicking a little. Ohio takes off his backpack and lays it on the ground for America to lay down on. Kansas digs a blanket out of his bag. The blanket is small but better than nothing.

The siblings wrap America up in the blanket. It doesn't cover his feet.

Another gust of wind.

A loud crack.

Russia's whiskers bend back and he flinches away.

His field of vision outside the stones is completely cut off, save for small holes from which moonlight leaks in between the leaves above his head. All the wind sounds muffle and sticks dig into Russia's side. Russia yowls, but he doesn't move away.

'I don't want to risk hurting anyone. I could squish them if I panic.'

His fur grows wet with blood. He turns his head back and finds himself covered in leaves and branches. He feels them dig into his skin and his purring takes on a different pitch as he tries to ignore the pain.

'I can't risk hurting one of them. I can't panic. I'm too large. Too dangerous.'

"Ruby?!" America exclaims, pulling up onto his hands and knees.

"Russia? Are you okay?" Ukraine exclaims, standing up from his spot beside Alberta.

Russia meows sadly and nods. He leans over and nuzzles Texas' head. He knocks Texas' hat to the side and begins grooming Texas' hair to distract himself. Texas shifts and then leans into Russia's neck, still asleep.

New Mexico then walks outside with South Carolina on her tail near Russia's face, bushing back the brush. South Dakota pushes back the tree trunk near his tail and North Dakota shoves her way through. Slowly, Russia feels the splinters being pulled back. His fur expands a little, and he hears a startled yelp and then laughter.

The largest pieces are removed and the states press against Russia and slide back around. Russia growls at the sensation that fills his mind with an odd sense of pain.

North Carolina pushes around with a soft laugh. New Mexico follows him, spitting pine needles out of her mouth. Russia smells the sap in her hair and begins licking at it. She squeals and begins pushing away. Russia grabs her with one of his paws and licks her hair as best as he could. She tries to shove him away, but Russia doesn't listen.

The pine needles feel strange against his tongue.

'I must clean my kin.'

Memories of New York flash in his mind's eye, and Russia pauses. New Mexico takes the opportunity to yank away. She picks her hairclip up off the floor and fixes it back into her hair.

"Okay, EWW!" New Mexico exclaims.

"We might have to get used to it. He is a giant cat," Kansas comments offhandedly.

"Well, that doesn't mean I'm going to like it!"

'We should let the others know we're okay.'

'I wonder if America has enough magic to summon a message.' Russia begins to think, tucking his paws back underneath him. He imagines Massachusetts summoning a message.

'Make a circle.'

'I don't have any hands.'

'God Damn it.' Russia does get curious though. He closes his eyes and finds that the value in his chest hadn't changed. He opens it and static fills his head. He looks down at his paws but doesn't see anything. He starts filtering magic and glowing on the tip of his nose catches his attention.

'Oh.'

He swallows and blinks a few times. He closes the valve as much as he can while still having magic flowing. The images of the strings and fog disappear, and he starts to feel sick from filtering the grey masses. Even still, he finds his connection to the real, physical world, is a lot more solid now than it would be just viewing the magic.

He moves his head in a circle, and a pink disk appears in front of him. It's a uniform pink.

'How do I... hmm.'

'Dixie.'

The pink swirls. A whirlpool forms in the middle. It looks like a sand donut that inverts itself.

Then, the center grows white for a split second before it fades into a new image. It's dark, and it takes a moment for Russia to focus on the picture. He sees Dixie sleeping uncomfortably against a wooden door. Russia meows.

"What- where- AHHH CAT!"

Dixie jumps to his feet and swings his fist at the message. He misses. Russia meows again. "What the fuck? How is a cat doing magic? Wait... light pi- Russia?" Dixie blabbers, his eyes wide.

"Russia?" New York asks, entering the view from under Dixie's arm. Russia meows. America crawls onto Russia's front paw. Russia tilts his head over and nuzzles the side of America's head. It feels strangely muted. Russia figures it's because of using magic.

'At least I'm not completely disconnected.'

The Dakotas follow America and poke their heads next to Russia's.

"Hello!" South Dakota chirps with a smile.

"Hi, Uncle Dixie," Alabama says sheepishly, fixing Texas' hat.

"You found them?" Dixie asks breathlessly.

"We did. They're okay," America says happily, but there is an undertone of anger that makes Russia bristle.

"Oh thank the Lord," Dixie exclaims, covering his face.

New York slumps against Dixie with gitty, almost unhinged laughter.

"Can I yell at Texas?" Dixie asks.

"You'll have to wait," America says, gently smiling at a sleeping Texas, "he's sleeping right now and I'm not going to wake him up."

Dixie scoffs, but his face softens.

"He's sleeping?"

"Yeah. For right now, at least."

Dixie sighs.

"Okay. So, before yous guys get distracted, what are the current injuries."

"Well, I'm missing most of my foot and Finland is missing her arm. Also, I don't know if this counts, but Russia is a cat and I can fly."

"What do you mean you're missing part of your foot?!"

"It was bitten off. I'm fine."

An unfamiliar stream of magic catches Russia's attention. Russia growls, and the growling graduates to a hiss. He faces the tree branches, feeling blind and scared.

"Woah. What's goin' on there, Amy?"

"Ruby?" America asks.

Russia faces outside and hisses before turning to America with a soft mew. America turns back to the message.

"I think we have to go. Sorry. We'll talk to you soon."

America swipes at the message and it dissipates. The cavern goes dark. Russia smells the air, but the only thing that comes to him is the smell of pine and blood.

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equipedefranceinfo · 4 years

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Dixie Dean, une légende anglaise

On aurait dû l’appeler Bill, car il s’appelait William, mais il avait hérité très tôt du surnom de Dixie, car il avait la peau très brune pour un Anglais, et des cheveux noirs. Un aspect qui, selon les supporters de Tranmere Rovers, son premier club, le rapprochait des habitants du sud des États-Unis.

William Ralph Dean, né en 1907 à Birkenhead, dans la banlieue nord de Liverpool, était pourtant bien un pur scouser, devenu fan d’Everton qu’il rejoint dès l'âge de dix-huit ans en 1925. Le club de Liverpool dispute le championnat anglais depuis sa création en 1888, mais n’a plus remporté le titre depuis 1915.

L'entraîneur Thomas H. McIntosh fait débuter sa jeune recrue en équipe réserve. Dès son premier match, celui-ci inscrit… sept buts. Autant dire qu'il gagne très vite sa place en première division.

Goal machine

Pour sa première saison parmi l'élite, en 1925/26, Dean ne marque pas moins de trente-deux buts. Le phénomène est doté d’une frappe puissante des deux pieds, mais également d’un timing et d’une détente au-dessus de la moyenne.

Dans les treize années d'une carrière presque entièrement vouée à Everton, il inscrit 379 buts pour 431 rencontres. Et encore, on ne se réfère qu'aux stats de la première division anglaise…

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Raconter Dixie Dean aurait pu se résumer à une série de chiffres parfois hallucinants s'il n'y avait eu, en 1926, cet accident de moto dont il sortira miraculeusement vivant. Pour ce pantin désarticulé que l'on amène à l'hôpital de Liverpool, le diagnostic des médecins ne fait aucun doute: sa carrière de footballeur est terminée. Il a dix-neuf ans.

Dean subit plusieurs interventions. Les médecins parviennent à le rétablir et fixent notamment sa mâchoire avec une plaque de métal. Le travail des chirurgiens ajouté à l'exceptionnelle volonté du joueur fait que, quatre mois après son accident, Dixie Dean foule à nouveau un terrain de football.

Aligné à la pointe de l’attaque de l’équipe réserve d’Everton, Dixie Dean plante le but de la victoire d’une reprise de la tête. Rapidement, il retrouve l’équipe première et l’élite du foot anglais.

Iron Man

La plaque qui tient sa mâchoire et sa volonté de fer lui valent rapidement un surnom: Iron man (l'homme de fer). Certains soupçonnent même les médecins de lui avoir remodelé le crâne avec de l'acier trempé tant ses coups de tête sont dévastateurs.

L'idole de Goodison Park est sélectionnée pour la première fois dans le onze anglais le 12 février 1927, pour une confrontation à Wrexham face au Pays de Galles. Score final 3-3, Dean marque deux fois.

Le public parisien aura l’occasion de saluer le phénomène qui inscrira deux fois deux buts contre l’équipe de France de ses deux passages au Stade de Colombes avec la sélection anglaise, en mai 1927 (victoire 6-0) puis en mai 1928 (victoire 5-1). En seize sélections avec l'équipe d'Angleterre, Dixie Dean inscrit dix-huit buts.

En fin de saison 1927/28, Everton décroche enfin son troisième titre de champion d'Angleterre. Dean a inscrit huit triplés au cours de la saison, et termine meilleur buteur du championnat avec le total hallucinant de soixante buts! Un record figé pour l’éternité. Son équipe totalise 102 réalisations en 42 rencontres. Du jamais vu.

À peine deux ans après cette saison triomphale, l’équipe d’Everton rate complètement l'exercice 1929/30 et, pour la première fois de son histoire, se retrouve reléguée en deuxième division. Le passage est très court: Dean et Everton remontent aussitôt puis sont sacrés champion dans la foulée.

Mort un jour de derby

Les Toffees remportent également la Cup en 1933 après avoir battu Manchester City (3-0). Dixie Dean poursuit son œuvre à coups de boules imparables. Il est le cauchemar toutes les défenses du Royaume.

La légende rapporte qu'un jour, Dixie Dean croisa dans Lime Street Elisha Scott, autre légende locale… mais gardien de but du club d'en face, le Liverpool FC. Les deux hommes auraient pu se saluer en gentlemen, mais une boîte de conserve traînait là. Dean la botta avec force, et Scott plongea sur le bitume pour s'en emparer…

En 1938, Dean a trente et un ans, mais les rouages commencent à grincer et le fighting spirit s’émousse quelque peu. Il refuse d'exposer son déclin aux fans d'Everton et va finir sa carrière à Notts County, en troisième division, puis chez les Irlandais de Siglo Rovers.

Il reviendra en Angleterre, ouvrira un pub à Chester, pas trop loin de Liverpool, ce qui lui permet de suivre les performances de ses successeurs à Goodison Park. Suite à une thrombose en 1976, il sera amputé d'une jambe.

Le 1er mars 1980, se joue le derby Everton-Liverpool, un match que Dean, même à soixante-treize ans, ne raterait pour rien au monde. Peu avant la rencontre, il est victime d'un malaise dont il ne se relèvera pas. Dixie Dean est mort dans le théâtre de ses exploits. Et Everton a perdu le derby. Sale journée pour les Blues.

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#equipedefrance #allezlesbleus #Article

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