#I'm done taking shit from anybody. treat me with respect or fuck off.

[neverendingford]

along the same line as the whole "why do you need to know someone's autistic before you stop bullying them for their autistic traits?" thing I've seen floating around

apologizing for it once you know is meaningless. it doesn't change the fact that you deliberately mocked someone for their behavior.

.

a customer mocked my stutter and I've lost all patience with that so I looked him in the eyes and said "I have a speech disability" and he immediately got all apologetic and was like "I wasn't making fun of you". Bro yes you were. you didn't realize you were making fun of a disability I've spent my entire life struggling with, but you were nonetheless.

just because you don't know you're being an asshole doesn't mean you're not being an asshole. you can apologize but I'm not going to forgive you.

#text post #stuttering #disability #ableism #color says shit #it's nice that my stutter mostly disappears when I'm angry because it lets me immediately put on my stony and guarded demeanor effortlessly. #anyway. most customers are at least condescending to me when I have trouble speaking. not outright rude #I've had a few customers that do genuinely mock me and then I just walk away from them and call a manager. #but like... apologizing when you've chosen to engage in asshole behavior doesn't change the fact that you've engaged in that behavior. #I'm not going to go “oh it's alright 😁” because you've realized that I don't think you're at all funny for that. #I'm done taking shit from anybody. treat me with respect or fuck off. #it's not my fucking fault I can't get a sentence out some days. #I don't care if it was done in ignorance you're an adult you don't get to be cruel like that. #like. haha yeah I know it's so funny when I start making noises and breathing funny but I'm not a spectacle for you to laugh at. #I'm not some side show. I'm not some curiosity. I'm not a roadside attraction to laugh at. #sometimes I forget I have such a hugely internalized reaction to being objectified in this very specific way #and then it happens and I want to leave a fist shaped dent in my locker. #I care too much about my hands to fuck them up again so I'll just vent on tumblr dot com instead

[joseshmoe82]

5 posts!

Rub them 5 points on your chest all stalker gonna do is take that too cuz he's been all up in my phone hacked it all up I don't even get a fuck I haven't got a phone call from anybody in like months so how the fuck do you do it you really go out your way just to get my information you know now that's a real piece of shit do anything just to find out or what you're doing don't even think about you posing as a brod lol that why ì do live chat cuz that's only place you find real cuz this nigga doing the most to ruin me you can't fuck of what's all ready ruin or even give a fuck about drama cuz I don't me posting this is your drama cuz your bicth ass set me off but I feel better that I said something cuzz on real nigga shit like real real nigga shit I have miss treated females in my past cuz I was soooo selfish useto be but I had to learn late what's you excuse I'm done I'm going to talk more shit but I can fuck it really tear you apart right now on how I really feel about situation but you know what what goes around will come around cuz I'm not the same person thanks to you cuz I mistreated women I mean I used to be mean to him I'd hit slap I mean like I said I've done everything in the book Plus and I am very sorry for all that I'm even sorry for even me and you and taking your word on how solid you are a person you're not solid and the money you gave me it wasn't a lot of money to wipe my ass with that shit I ain't going to talk shit cuz I can fucking tell you apart dude because you can probably sit there and say one story dude you can it's not even that homie yeah I'm sure you make some money bro you know since you're hacking my phone and everything and I got groups and stuff and I made no money cuz your bitch ass is hacking my phone leave my shit alone and please don't make me please bro I'll not asking for I don't want no fucking problems I will see you I will see you you might be in a car with your homies and not be by myself but you know what I'll box all y'all line that shit up and like I said with all due respect please leave my shit alone no I didn't want to take care of this bro and turn my phones in because like but you know what no I don't do this I wouldn't do that to you a lot of fucked up things in my life I regret maybe half of them cuz what goes around comes around I'll show you bro just leave me the fuck alone are ways bro far far away you think you're real fucking funny you're pretty fucking funny dude I am mad at you disappointed definitely but I don't hate you don't hate me because you're a begging me and fucking literally on your fucking knees begging me sick fuck just leave me alone I need my shit alone or I will for real dog I ain't even going to say that shit just leave me the fuck alone and leave my shit alone and if you keep stealing for me all this shit even hacking on my ass do you know you made a chunk too if you don't love your best bet is just a stopped you cuz if it doesn't stop bro to talk shit to all them niggas out there in the streets they ain't my homies they're not my friends I sold them love some respect because that's the way it's supposed to be done I got to bless the land first and that's exactly what I do cuz it will come back and a lot of other people know I'm good peoples i got this drug fuck me up please leave me alone and you need to look at yourself in the mirror and use it to find yourself because you think that you got bread people jump for you nah not me not me not me maybe people who don't know no better they're going to try and burn you and all sorts of shit but I've never stolen anything from you I've never took it nothing from you and I've always asked you first so I'm not the bad guy here dude and you got me hot as bitch you already know I'll be out there I'll be around come talk to me bro one on one you know just come talk to me come holler at me real quick come out today I'll be out there I ain't mad at you homie I promise you I'm not holler at me cuz you get no points they're all negatives

#5 posts #tumblr milestone

[transssexualheart]

everyone at my new job treats me with so much respect it's insane but not really because it's just the amount I deserve. I'm just not used to it. I don't have any coworkers that I really dislike, and I'm not in love with any of them either and I think those are overall both improvements. they all call me chef and value my opinion. I suppose the differences now are that I'm the eldest in the kitchen besides head chef , I'm in a position where I have a lot of responsibility, I'm someone many of them often have to ask for things, and I think one of the biggest factors is that I'm not out at work somehow. head chef knows as he's my boss (and he asked once about why my parents chose my name so I had to explain they didn't and I'm just honest so I told the truth) and the owner knows since she needed all my legal info- but otherwise I try not to talk about it. it's mostly younger boys I work with, and there's one I think I would trust with the information, but it just makes me nervous. if they had to know I would own it, but it's a private business and they don't have to share my legal name with anybody, and I'm sort of just enjoying realizing that I can fit in with other guys. I don't want them to look at me differently. maybe it sounds weird, but guys are more relatable than they're portrayed. I was talking to the dishwasher earlier about depression, and he was saying he always found it hard to talk about his with other people because they believed that boys just don't have emotions and told him to man up. but guys do have emotions. so many that men are like 70% of suicide rates. yeah, we talk about cars and girls, but we also talk about anxiety meds and going to therapy. and theyre all so non judgemental. my coworkers, I mean. I have a sparkly manicure and the guy who trained me is like "are those new nails? them shits sparkly" especially when you tell them you got them done with a hot girl , they think it's kind of cool you have a pink manicure and own it. anyway, I cooked for like 40 people today on my own, I had asked my boss to come in and then felt sort of bad because I didn't need him for anything! I did it all by myself and I did it well, and I didn't do the dishes but I only saw one plate come back unfinished. although I did just remember I forgot to take something out of the cold table and toss it... fuck. oh well. anyhow, I knew I could do this. I've been cooking breakfast since I was a little kid. baking is a piece of cake (pun intended) to me. they tell me I'm fast, which is an important skill for a line cook. they are also VERY impressed with my frosting piping skills. I'm just very happy with how this morning went. I might finish off a bottle of wine after I shower about it. I think next time I have a similar amount of people I can tell him to stay home and do it alone . I know I work well under pressure, and I know I can do it without anyone's help. you pace yourself like taking a jog. don't bite off more than you can chew, but don't take bites too small either. don't don't think too hard about it. if it's busy enough for me to be worried about it, I don't have time to overthink it anyway. that's how I like it. fast paced pressure from behind the scenes, nobody watching me make the art. enough time to make a strategy and preform without worrying about how well I'm doing. it's just good. it stimulates my brain right. actually now I'm thinking about my boss telling me that he likes being a chef because he has ADHD.... HMMMMM.....

#rain rambles #long post

[hot-wiings]

The Chapter Contains Enji Todoroki. If this makes you triggered, or uncomfortable don't proceed.

Edited: 5-18-20

#1. I Love How You Patch Me Up. 

You let out a sigh as you dabbed Touya Todoroki's eyebrow with a cotton ball. He hissed as the hydrogen peroxide soaked ball of cotton made contact with his skin, burning him as it cleaned out the cut.

"Sorry."

"Just stings."

Touya watched you from the spot where he sat on the barstool. You pulled your lip between your teeth and he knew you were upset. Upset that you had to make him sit through the extra pain of cleaning out his cuts with ointment and peroxide. 

You weren't just upset, but livid. Livid that his father would hurt him like this. Livid that his mother didn't step up and protect him. Most of all, you were livid that she wouldn't even stay around to clean him up, but rather left him to patch himself up.

Your heart hurt for Touya, it truly did. You knew what it was like to have your father, a respected man, lay a hand against you—that's how you originally met Touya in the first place.

You were both in a local drug store looking for peroxide and medical materials, the same day with the same purpose and reasons. You both happened to reach for the same bottle as if fate intended for you to meet. You ended up helping him patch himself up that day.

You carefully pressed a bandaid over Touya's eyebrow cut before moving onto a new one. Your eyes briefly flashed down to his teal orbs before going back to your task at hand.

"Why'd he get so angry this time?"

"I told my parents I wanted to apply to UA. Enji told me I wasn't cut out to be a hero, I disagreed."

"And your mother? What did she say."

"She didn't say anything... But I know she agrees with him."

Your hand pressed down harder on Touya's cut. Sensing your anger, Touya pulled your hand from his cut cheek to his mouth. Ignoring the pain from his busted lip, he kissed your tense knuckles.

"I hate them so much. I hate how he treats you. I hate how she doesn't stop it. She doesn't even try!"

"Can you really blame her? If she intervened then my busted face would be hers. If he didn't hit me, he would be hitting her."

"That's not how a mother should act. A mother would step in, a mother would protect you. You protect her so much, but she has never done shit for you."

"How would you know? You don't even have a mother." 

His comment deeply bothered you, but you knew that it didn't come out of malice but rather a defense. It didn't make it hurt any less, however, you didn't retaliate with words but actions. 

With a tight smile, you soak a cotton ball in hydrogen peroxide and aggressively press Touya's lip with the substance. He winced, but he couldn't be mad. You would never hurt him on purpose, instead, you took out your anger by cleaning him up, something that you knew would hurt him but something that essentially needed to be done. 

"I'm sorry, that was mean." 

"It was."

"I just hate when you talk bad about her, she's not a bad person. He is, but she's not. She's sweet with Fuyumi and Natsou, it's just cause' I look so much like him. She thinks I'm just like him."

A tear falls down from Touya's pretty teal eyes. It dribbled down his cheek and mixed in with his cuts. You turned your own gaze to the ground, as you couldn't help but let a few of your own fall as well.

"You're not your father Touya." 

"You're right, I'm not my father. That's why it doesn't matter if I let him hurt me, cause' at least I know I'm not enabling a monster like him to hurt my mom."

Touya slips his arms around your waist and pulls you closer between his legs. He used his hand to tilt your chin up making you look him in the eyes as his other hand traced circles into the bare skin of your hip above your jeans.

"I wish we could just get away from them all." 

Touya let his head rest against your chest and he softy murmured into your skin as you ran your fingers through his bright orange locks.  

"One day I'm leaving and I'm not coming back. You'll come with me, right?"

Your lips quirked up into a small smile. You leaned your neck down and kissed the top of Touya's head.

"Of course. After all, you'd be hopeless without your unlicensed doctor."

"I think you meant my pretty, unlicensed doctor." 

Touya could still feel the heat from your kiss on his head, lingering and begging for more. It was then in that moment as you patched up his wounds that he realized how he really felt about you. He really wanted to say those three unspoken words, the words he was so cautious about handing out, but he didn't. Instead, he held his best friend and let her patch up his face. 

#2. I Love How You Won’t Let Me Go. (Even When I Push You Away.)

He knew what he was doing was horrible. He knew what he was doing was going to break your heart. He was doing the worst thing. It would be like stabbing you in the chest and twisting the knife. 

Touya Todoroki knew what he was doing would hurt you, but that didn't stop him from packing his bag with any essential items he would need. He knew it would hurt you, but that didn't stop him from discreetly leaving you a heartfelt goodbye letter in your mailbox before he headed off to school. 

He knew it would hurt you, but that didn't stop him from walking to the nearest bus stop right after school got out. He knew it would hurt you, but he still bought a ticket to the farthest destination anybody would look for him, a ticket he bought a week in advance from his departure date. 

He knew it would hurt, yet he still attempted to go through with it. What he hadn't expected was to see you standing there at the bus stop when he arrived. He hadn't expected to see you, arms crossed with a furious look spread across your face. 

"Were you really going to leave?" 

His eyes flowed from the scorned look of betrayal on your face down to your hand which held the letter he left in your mailbox. It was bunched up in your fist and your knuckles were white from clenching it so hard.

He could see the tears building up at your eyes, and his chest felt heavy with regret. He pulled on the arm straps of his backpack tighter. He was scared of hurting you. He was careful to choose his next words, wary of breaking you even more. 

"How did you even get from school to home to here so fast?" 

"Maybe if you hadn't been avoiding me like the black plague, you would've known that I was absent from school today." 

"Why were you absent? Did your father-"

"Don't. Don't ask about my father. You don't have that right, not after you broke your promise." 

The tears started dribbling down your cheeks and you looked up at the sky to avoid looking at him with your blurry tear-filled orbs. 

"You promised. You promised that you would take me with you. You said we’d escape our parents together… But you were going to leave without me. You weren't even going to give me an actual goodbye."

Your voice sounded quiet and simply broken. The tone you used with him was hurt and lifeless. He wished you would scream, he wished you would yell. Anything would be better than the broken tone you held. Anything would be better than the broken tone he caused. 

"How could I take you with me? I'd just be dragging you down."

Touya took a deep breath and closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the words he had to say to you. 

"You wanna know why I got so distant? My mom got put in a mental institute and our last conversation was her telling me I was gonna end up just like Enji. I can't be anywhere near you. I won't let myself treat you like he treats people." 

Touya made the motion to turn as his tears started to leak down his eyes. He started to turn away from you, letting his last words to you serve as a goodbye. You quickly grabbed onto his arm, stopping him and pulling him back. You would not let him go, not like this. 

“I'm not a good person, [Y/N], it's better if I just leave." 

"I will not let you walk away from me, I will not let you walk away from the past seven years. If you can look me in the eyes and truthfully say our friendship has meant nothing, that I have meant nothing to you, then I'll let you walk away." 

“That's not fair. I could never say that to you. I'm not leaving because of you. I'm leaving for you. For fuck's sake! If my own mother, my flesh and blood, couldn't love me then no one can. I'd just drive you insane.”

“That's bullshit! Cause' I love you, and I'll always love you." 

The thing you so belligerently tried to keep from your best friend was out in the open. You felt naked and vulnerable now that the words were out of your mouth.

"You love me?" 

His voice sounded so hesitant and scared of the answer. He looked at you but you were looking at the ground, scared to meet his eyes. You took a deep breath before divulging in the secret you kept so well. 

"You’re the reason I have the strength to wake up every day despite knowing what's in store with my dad. You make it worthwhile every day when I see you in school, you make me feel like I'm actually important. I love you, I've always loved you... And if you still want to leave despite knowing that, then just leave.”

Touya cupped your cheeks in his hands and tilted your face up, forcing you to look up at him. His hands on your cheeks felt warm, you wished for nothing more than to stay like that. 

“You always take time out of your day for me. Whether it's homework, an injury, or just to ask me about my day, you're there. You’ve never once got disgusted by my scars. I think I love you more than I value my own life and that scares me.”

Touya pressed his lips against yours. They felt warm and soft. You could smell his distinct scent of ash from his quirk. Words could not describe the way you loved the way ash smelt on him.   

“But I can't stay with a family who hates me. Come with me doll. Leave your shitty dad and come with me.”  

“Touya, I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if it meant being with you.”

#3. I Love How You Don’t Judge Me.

With a grocery bag in his hand, Touya unlocked the door to the dingy motel room you had been staying in together. It wasn't much, but it wasn't somewhere someone would think to look for the son of the famous hero Endeavor. It wasn't much, but you didn't care as long as he was with you. 

Touya locked the door behind him before walking further into the motel room and dropping the grocery bags at the foot of the bed where you laid reading a book. You looked up from your book and smiled at Touya. 

“Hey there.”

Touya leaned down to your face and pressed his lips against yours, giving you a quick chaste kiss. 

“Hi.” 

"What’d you get at the store?” 

“I got some instant ramen.”

“Same as yesterday, yummy.” 

You picked up the grocery bag and carried it to the tiny microwave that the motel had provided in every room. 

“Instant ramen in a rundown motel room. I'm sorry, I know it's not ideal.” 

You turned your head to the side to look at Touya. A smile played on your lips as you made eye contact with him. 

“I knew what I was signing up for when I came with you, besides, I like instant ramen.”   

You added water to the containers and popped the ramen inside the microwave before pressing on the right buttons to turn it on. Touya came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. He gave you another chaste kiss, this time on the side of your temple. 

“Will you dye my hair?”

“Really? I really like your orange hair.” 

You turned around in Touya's arms and looked him in the eyes to see if he was serious. It was so out of the blue, he had never had any interest in dying his hair before. As you ran your hands through his orange locks it wasn’t hard to guess what was going through his head. He was a spitting image of Enji. 

“I have a job interview tomorrow, but I don't wanna go to it like this. I don't wanna go to it looking like a younger version of him. I want a whole new identity.”

“I really like your orange hair, but I'll love you no matter what hair color you've got.”

You walked over to the second grocery bag Touya had brought home and pulled out the black hair dye. You ripped the box open as Touya took a seat on a wooden chair in front of you. You ripped open the powders and dumped the powdered dye into the liquid chemical bottle before placing a lid on it and shaking it up. 

“Tip your head back.” 

You ran your fingers through his hair and applied the dye thoroughly as you rubbed it in his roots. You made sure not to leave a single inch of orange hair untouched. 

You washed your hands and set a timer on your phone before retrieving your ramen bowls from the microwave and placing one in front of him and taking your place in the chair across from him. 

“Thank you, doll.”

“Of course babe. I just hope it takes to your hair well, orange hair can be unpredictable when dyeing. We might have to go to the store and get another box.” 

Touya sat there with you, happily eating away at the ramen you cooked for him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when you asked the question he dreaded you asking. 

“What's the job interview for?” 

Touya bit down on his lip as he debated whether or not he should tell you. If he honestly told you what the job was, then you might get mad. On the other hand, he wanted to have an honest relationship with you. 

“It’s for a position in the league of villains.” 

You stared at him speechlessly as the timer went off on your phone. He wasn't sure what to make of your expression. You didn't look mad, or angry, but you didn't look happy or pleased either. Despite being best friends for most of your lives, Touya couldn't identify your expression. Not being able to tell what you were feeling made Touya nervous.  

“You should wash your hair.”

“[Y/N]-”

“Go wash your hair before it falls out!”

He knew you were angry. He thought you were. You had to be. So instead of staying to talk it out, he retreated to the bathroom to wash out the chemicals as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Each minute that passed felt like years to the both of you. 

After what felt like a millennium, Touya emerged from the bathroom with a now black stained towel in his hand. You took a deep breath before smiling at your lover as he walked closer to you.

“You want to be a villain?” 

“I- I know you're upset and disappointed, but I can't be a hero. I can't be that heroic guy you want and need. You can judge me all you want, but I can't be that.”

“Oh, baby… I would never judge you.” 

You reached up and grabbed Touya by the sides of his head. With your thumbs, you wiped away the tears that had begun making their way down his cheeks and you gently pulled his face down to yours. Touya got on his knees and wrapped his arms around you as you cradle his face on your chest. 

“I’m not upset, or disappointed either. You want a new identity, I understand that. I literally just dyed your hair, I'll even help you pick a new name. I was just shocked to hear you say, villain.” 

“I can't be a hero [Y/N], they're so corrupt. I- I can't be someone like Enji. He was a hero and he was a bastard. I'm sorry if you hate me for this but I can't be someone like that.” 

“Hey, I said I wasn't gonna judge you, and that meant I wouldn't ever hate you either. It just scares me. Hero or villain, it's a risky occupation.”

You run your fingers through Touya's newly black damp hair. It felt nice to him and it did miracles to soothe his tears. There were countless times where he found himself in this exact spot growing up, usually after he and Enji had a fight. 

“It's a risky occupation. But hey, if you get to do something dangerous, then I can too.” 

“[Y/N].”

“If you're joining the villains, then I am too. Who else will bandage up your wounds properly? Somebody's gotta keep you alive.”

Touya pressed his lips against yours. This kiss wasn't a chaste one like earlier, but one of longing and want. It was filled with lust and passion and hunger. 

“Okay, we’ll do it together.” 

#4. I Love How You Reassure me. 

You sat on the closed edge of the toilet in your shared apartment as you stared down at the tiny thin stick in your hands. You were nervous and your whole body was tense as you stared at the stick with anticipation as you waited for the timer on your phone to go off.

Every passing minute felt like decades and with every passing second, the pounding of your heartbeat got faster. The timer beeped and you looked at the stick for the results. Two lines were present signifying positive. 

The tears sprang from your eyes. You weren't sure what the appropriate response should have been but the whole situation left you feeling overwhelmed. What kind of lifestyle would you be bringing a child into? You were a villain now, and although you worked for the league of villains in a more medical aspect, your lover, the father of the baby, held a big role for the league of villains. 

Occupations set aside, you weren't even married, nor did you and Dabi, the name Touya was going by these days, had much knowledge on how to raise a child. Yet the more you thought about how you carried something so precious in your womb brought a soft smile to your face. The more you thought of raising a child with Dabi, you felt better and more secure. 

You heard keys jingling in the apartment doorknob followed by the sound of boots coming in the doorway and you could soon hear Dabi's deep voice resounding throughout the house.

"Sweetheart? I'm home."

You started to panic as you heard him walk closer to the bathroom. Should you hide the test, or just tell it to him straight? There was a slightly unsettling feeling in your stomach that Dabi wouldn't be happy about the predicament, but you had an open and honest relationship with Dabi. 

The door to the bathroom was pushed open and Dabi made his way inside ready to scold you. 

"You're sick, you should be resting in bed." 

Being sick was just an excuse to take a day off from league work to slip away and buy your pregnancy test. To be fair, you were sick earlier due to morning sickness.

"I'm feeling better now, and, I uh, I have something for you." 

You looked at the ground and ran one hand through your hair nervously as you used your other hand to push the pregnancy test into his hand. He took it, not even realizing what it was. Not even realizing how that tiny stick would impact his life. It didn't take him long to realize what it was as he looked down at the pink stick with two red lines.

"This a pregnancy stick."

"Yeah." 

"Two lines. Is that positive?" 

"Well, I wouldn't be giving you a pregnancy test if it was negative, would I?"

Dabi numbly took a seat on the edge of the bathtub across from you. To Dabi, children were not in the life plan, he never even let himself entertain the thought of kids. Sure, you were financially better than when you first left home together, rather than bouncing from dingy motel to motel you lived in a nice apartment, but you were both barely over twenty-one, your career choice was villainy, not to mention you both never had the best example of what a parent should be. 

"It has to be wrong, we've been careful. You- you can't be pregnant."

Your eyes which had been trained on the floor finally looked up and met Dabi's orbs. You knew he might not want your baby, but you hadn't expected him to look so distraught and sick about it. 

"Well I am, and I'm not aborting. This child is a part of you and me, I won't abort them." 

"We can't raise a child." 

"I can raise a child, what you mean is that you don't want to raise a child together." 

"I didn't say I don't want to, I said I can't." 

A tear dribbled down Dabi's cheek. You pulled him off the edge of the bathtub, onto his knees with his head against your chest. His comfort space, the space he would always find himself crying as he grew up. You ran your hand through Dabi's raven dyed hair, your signature move to quell his tears. 

"I know what you're thinkin' and it's not true. You're not gonna be like him, you're not him."

"He's always going to be biologically a part of me. He was a shit dad and a shit husband. I don't wanna be like him."

"Just cause he's your dad, doesn't mean your gonna be like him. You're a good man and you'll be a great dad. You're not gonna hurt me, or this baby. You won't be like Enji." 

Dabi slid his head from your chest to your stomach. A smile made its way across his stapled face as he let himself entertain the domestic thought of having a family with you. 

"If we're having a baby then we might wanna look for a bigger apartment."

#5. I Love Everything You Create. 

Dabi leaned over the sleek black bassinet and peered down. His precious baby lay there sound asleep. She had trademark teal blue eyes like his, but your nose. although she looked very distinctly you, she had red hair from Dabi. Although it was very Todoroki like, he didn't care. He didn't care that it tied him to Enji because it also tied her to himself and you. She was his baby, his pride and joy. She was the greatest gift you could have given him. She was his and yours to cherish and love, he wouldn't give that up for anything.

The baby began to stir and Dabi hesitated as he looked at her. Sometimes she would just fall back to sleep, but today was not one of those days. Her little cries began to start and Dabi swooped her up into his arms. With her head against his shoulder, he carefully swayed her back and forth immediately quelling her cries.

She didn't fall back to sleep but she laid there quietly in his arms. She was just a little over a year old but she was already a daddy's girl.

"You hungry?"

Dabi smiled as he heard Akari's little excited gurgles and giggles. He carried her down to the kitchen and pulled out a container of baby food from the fridge. Before quickly tossing it in the microwave.

Dabi pulled Akari closer to his chest and away from his shoulder so he could move around and do things in the house while securely holding her. Akari, deciding she wants more attention, pulls her hands towards her father's face and yanks on one of his staples.

"Ah."

Dabi swiftly put Akari in her baby high chair before grabbing a towel and wiping his face to get rid of the small blood that came along with the staple.

"Da! Da!"

Dabi weakly smiled in his daughter's direction as to not worry or frighten her. This wasn't the first time she had pulled his staples out, but it didn't hurt any less with each time she did it. Once the bleeding let up Dabi tossed the towel on the counter and picked Akari back up, giving Akari the attention she was trying to get.

"You're daddy's little menace, aren't you? Huh?"

Akari giggled and buried her face in Dabi's neck, it sent a smile onto Dabi's face. She was so perfect and every second he spent with her he couldn't understand why Enji ever treated him and his siblings the way he had. When he held Akari all that came to his mind was how he would do anything to protect her. Her and you. All he could think about was how precious and special you both were to him.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

Dabi turned his head to the side to see you leaning against the doorway. Your head was all over the place due to bed head and you wore Dabi's oversized t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants. You looked completely frumpy but to Dabi, you were nothing less than perfect.

"I wanted to let you sleep in."

"I enjoyed the sleep, but I'd rather have been up with my lovelies."

You walked over to Dabi and Akari. You dipped your head down to hers and kissed her head before leaning up to kiss Dabi, you stopped midway as you saw his cheek. You brought your hand up and creased his cheek.

"Did she pull your staple out again?"

"Yeah. She's got a mean steak, I still think we should have named her Void."

You reached into the cupboard to pull out a bandaid to patch your lover up.

"Void is such a bad name, so was Winslow."

You took the wrapper off the bandaid and pressed it against Dabi's face. He gave you a soft smile as he placed his hand over your hand that was on his cheek.

"I'm glad you married me, you know that right? I know we did it cause' you were pregnant, but I wouldn't change it."

You pressed your lips against Dabi's briefly before pulling away and smiling at him.

"You and Akari are everything to me. I love you, and everything you've given me. I wouldn't change it, and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero #mha dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha todoroki x reader #mha todoroki x reader #bnha touya x reader #bnha touya todoroki x reader #mha touya todoroki x reader #mha touya x reader #touya #bnha touya #mha touya #dabi #dabi bnha #mha dabi #todoroki #bnha todoroki #anime x reader #x reader

[ladyjaneasher-blog]

Wait I'm sorry for being misinformed, but the info about Paul calling Yoko a jap tart is not true? From what i read he sent a letter to john (i think) saying this. So it's not true? (because thank god if it's not true)

it’s okay, anon. let me reiterate: 

the full message – if you believe francie, that is – was “you and your jap tart think you’re hot shit” and the full quote reads:

“John obviously loved Paul enough to let him run wild if it would help ease the tension Paul was creating in the studio and at home. Yoko could see it too.

But Paul was treating them like shit too. He even sent them a hate letter once, unsigned, typed. I brought it in with the morning mail. Paul put most of his fan mail in a big basket and let it sit for weeks, but John and Yoko opened every piece. When they go to the anonymous note, they looked puzzled, looking at each other with genuine pain in their eyes.

‘You and your Jap tart think you’re hot shit’, it said. John put it on the mantle, and in the afternoon, Paul hopped in, prancing much the same self-conscious way he did when we met.

‘Oh I just did that for a lark…’ he said in his most sugar-coated accent.

It was embarrassing. The three of us swiveled around, staring at him. You could see the pain in John. Yoko simply rose above it, feeling only sympathy for John. I was sad to see the Lennons go, even though it took the pressure off of Paul.”

putting aside that you can already read the clear bias between the lines, sometimes in other retellings of the story, it’s said to be a postcard and other times it’s a typewritten message left in an envelope. the discrepancies here alone should tell you something. 

now, where does the claim come from? it comes from an ex-girlfriend of paul’s from the late 60s, who he has parted not on the best terms with: francie schwartz. francie wrote a book about her relationship with paul where francie claims that while john and yoko stayed at cavendish, they received a note saying “you and your jap tart think you’re hot shit”.

why is it bullshit? i have several points to make:

francie schwartz is one of the most unreliable sources in beatles history. ask any beatles researcher worth their salt on their opinion about francie and her book. what’s more important in this particular case: she relies almost exclusively on sensational claims to make her book body count (1972) more palatable and exciting to a general and broad public instead of actual proof. other such claims include paul having been sent love letters from brian; a claim just as insubstantial and without any actual tangible proof. 

first off, to get a more personal picture of francie during the time she wrote and published her book you have to ackowledge her agenda as the scorned ex-lover as is evidenced by the book itself as it displays a great deal of vindictiveness towards paul. read body count and you’ll know what  i mean. it’s absolutely vile in places.

second, the book was published in 1972 – when paul’s critical reputation was possibly at one of its lowest points – and it was published by none other than jann wenner’s rolling stone press, which very obviously chose john’s side in the john versus paul breakup era split and which back in the day had a lot of sway in the music industry. the magazine wasn’t yet the joke it was to become. something else that is interesting and slightly related: jann wenner. paul’s critical acclaim wasn’t at it lowest point because mccartney (the album) was years ahead in its day and the press just didn’t get it, but because wenner directly influenced his reviewers to slam paul for – as wenner saw it – breaking up the beatles. here’s the relevant quote:

“When I became record reviews editor, I made it clear to him after a few months — nobody had done the job before me — that the record review section was an independent republic within the country of Rolling Stone. That meant that nobody else could tell me what to review or what a writer could say. They could argue with me, but ultimately it was my decision. And that worked well. There was one incident where Paul McCartney makes his first solo record and people thought it was wonderful: this rough, homemade one-man-band album. It was accompanied by a press release, a self-interview, about why he no longer needed the Beatles and how little he thought of them … this real obnoxious statement, you know? I assigned it to a friend of mine, Langdon Winner, and Jann saw the piece and said: “We can’t run it this way — he’s just reviewing it as if it’s this nice little record. It’s not just a nice little record, it’s a statement and it’s taking place in a context that we know: it’s one person breaking up the band. This is what needs to be talked about.” I said I didn’t agree and “in any case it’s up to Langdon to say what he wants to say.” Jann said, “We have to talk about this.” So we went to dinner that night and spent three fucking hours arguing about this record review. Finally he convinced me. So I went over to Langdon’s and sat down with him and spent three more hours arguing with him until I convinced him! Now to me this was the essence of great editing, of how you put out a publication that is utterly honest. All that time spent over one 750 word review! And it was worth it.”

—Greil Marcus in conversation with Simon Reynolds,

Los Angeles Review of Books

there are other instances where wenner displays his clear bias against paul, which was especially rampant in the time where paul was hailed as the talentless and flighty hack who did nothing more than book the studio for the beatles and john as the deeply misunderstood true lyrical and musical genius behind the beatles. a narrative that was formed then and persists to this day.

third, a number of writers – including, disappointingly, doggett and carlin – have recounted the “jap tart” episode from paul to john and yoko as fact, but it’s NOT. it’s the unverified retrospective eyewitness testimony years after it happened of a very much biased, secondhand source. we’ve never seen evidence from anyone else that this event occurred. no picture, no copy, nothing. just like any other event francie “remembers”, if i might add. and since other private notes and copies from letters and even journals exist from other and more deeply involved with the beatles people, it is suspicious.

even during “lennon remembers” – also done with involvement from wenner – john himself admits that his examples of the others treating yoko badly in the studio or elsewhere come off as him being paranoid. if he had indeed a clear and very much damning example, such as this “jap tart” postcard or typewritten message or handwritten note, why didn’t he bring it up? or, more glaringly, yoko herself? when discussing why she and john left cavendish in philip norman’s paul bio, she doesn’t mention this incident at all. why didn’t either of them ever bring up this incident in all the years after it supposedly occurred? 

it’s also important to point out that the narrative that paul was an absolute and continuous horror to john and yoko during the let it be era is just that: a narrative. let’s see what yoko has to say:

“After the initial embarrassment, then – um, now Paul is being very nice to me. He’s nice, and a – a very, um, str– on the level, straight sense. Like, um, whenever there’s something happening at Apple, he explains to me, as if I should know, [inaudible] and things like that. And also whenever there’s something like they need a light man or something like that, he asks me if I know of anybody in the art world, and things like that.

And like, um, I can see that he’s just now suddenly changing his attitude, like he’s being – he’s treating me with respect. Not because it’s me – but because I belong to John. I hope that’s what it is, because that would be nice. And I feel like he’s my younger brother or something like that. I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat – because there’s something definitely very strong between John and Paul.

And, um – and probably among those three people of George and Ringo and Paul, Paul is the only one that I can sort of feel the vibration [from]. Like, sort of sense it, you know, that something is among that. ‘Cause Ringo and George, I just can’t communicate. I mean, I’m sure that George and – I’m really sure that they’re both very nice people, but that’s not the point… I think that’s because being, uh, [because of John, Paul, and me] being air signs, like Libra, Gemini, and Aquarius.”

[x]

another point is the nature of the source itself: francie didn’t – at least as far as we know – write any of these instances down, be it in her diary, or even in a letter to her mother, with whom she stayed in contact during that time. all of which would have made the claim more credible, as those would have been never intended for public view and subsequent consumption as her book was. 

she wrote them in her memoir, something she wanted people to buy, and there has been discussion that wenner encouraged her to promote the “sex and dissension” between paul and her and paul and the beatles in her work, because that’s what would sell and ensure publicity. 

lasty, i’ve seen another valid point brought up: linguistics. “hot shit” is something that is more an americanism – francie is american – than something used in the late 60s by someone of liverpool descent.

tl;dr: francie’s claim is unfounded and to this very day has zero (0) proof to it. 

i’ll include another good quote about the issue under a read more should you be interested.

While Erin toils in academia with an unusually heavy workload, I thought I would share another unpublished excerpt from The Historian And The Beatles regarding this now infamous statement attributed to Paul by his erstwhile lover, Francie Schwartz:

One example of Doggett’s occasional acceptance of unverified testimony as fact is his use of Francie Schwartz’s claim that the reason Lennon and Ono left McCartney’s London house (where they were temporarily staying) in Summer 1968 is because McCartney left the couple a postcard with the words “You and Your Jap Tart Think You’re Hot Shit” on it. Schwartz, McCartney’s girlfriend at the time, is the only source for this scene, (Body Count, 220) which, Doggett argues in both You Never Give Me Your Money and in a later interview with Oomska, initiated an irreparable wedge between Lennon and McCartney.

However, neither Lennon nor Ono ever mentioned this incident, even during Lennon Remembers, in which Lennon accuses the other Beatles of seriously mistreating Ono but also acknowledges that their offered examples of mistreatment are unconvincing: “Even when it’s written down, it’ll just look like I’m paranoid.” (Lennon Remembers, 44) Given that Schwartz portrays this incident as an extremely painful moment in Lennon’s relationship with McCartney, and that it directly led to Lennon and Ono departing Cavendish, it would presumably have been, for both Lennon and Ono, a particularly memorable moment. More, describing this incident would have heavily reinforced Lennon’s Lennon Remembers interview agenda to portray himself and Ono as victims of McCartney and the other Beatles. His failure to remember and recount the incident in this particular instance casts suspicions on the accuracy of Schwartz’s account.

While Garraghan declares that “the testimony of a single witness whose competence in every respect is above suspicion may be accepted as true,” (Garraghan, A Guide to Historical Method, 244) Schwartz does not qualify as a competent witness. Her brief relationship with McCartney ended badly when he told her to move out and Schwartz quickly sold articles about her time with McCartney to Rolling Stone and later produced a book, Body Count, in which Schwartz details the postcard scene. The Beatles Bibliography (which repeatedly discredits those pro-Lennon sources promoting the “Lennon Remembers” and Shout! versions of Beatles history) describes Body Count as “a travesty of a memoir,” in part because of its “self-serving and non-reflexive tone.” In credibility terms, Schwartz’s unverified eyewitness testimony is equal to that of the Apple Scruff claiming that Lennon once attempted to hit a pregnant Linda McCartney. While both Schwartz and the Apple Scruff’s claims are generally reinforced by circumstantial evidence (Schwartz by Beatles insider Derek Taylor’s claims that McCartney was sending him anonymous but ominous postcards in that same time period, the Scruff’s by Lennon’s admitted acts of occasional violence against women) Beatles writers who recount both scenes should explain that they are unverified testimony presented by an unreliable source.

Anyone still questioning whether Francie Schwartz is being truthful about the “jap tart” comment need only consider the point which Erin makes here: that J&Y would have been been screaming about this to the press to bolster their position that the rest of the band mistreated them/Yoko, had it been true.  I would also add that the vernacular–calling something or someone “hot shit”– sounds far more American than late 60’s British.  I think Schwartz gave herself away with that one.

I’m shocked that Doggett didn’t come up with those same, very simple observations.

What say ye, commentators?

(source)

i’ve also incorporated a lot of the points from the beatlesbible here.

#paul mccartney #yoko ono #john lennon #francie schwartz #text: asks #p: paul mccartney #p: francie schwartz #slurs cw #Anonymous

[leftbouquetfestivalus]

this is a little sample of my book i hope some of you like it i just posted the cover of my book

SCANDALOUS

by Danni Hawkins

 

CHAPTER ONE

I'm sitting in class waiting for the last bell to ring.

I cannot wait until class is over., I look down at my watch. Fiftteen more minutes left until school is over. Why can’t this class can’t just hurry up?

I’m tapping my nails against my desk. I didn't realize how loud I was tapping my nails until Miss Gale call my name.

“Winter” Miss Gale yells my name, and I look up at Miss Gale. her.

Miss Gale is the assistant teacher who complains over every little thing. “Can you stop tapping your nails against the desk?

“"So I can't tap my nails against the desk now?

“You can, but I thought you would have a little more Respect when your classmates are doing their work. Can you try to care about other people besides yourself” she said with an attitude.

This bitch is worrying about me tapping my nails against the desk when the whole class is making noise.

I stand up. “I do care about other people. Who do you think you are?

Miss Gale picks up her head and looks at me. I am about to say something rude that will put me in detention, but I keep it to myself.

“Winter, are you done making a scene?

“That was no scene, but I will show you one if you’d like me to".

Miss Gale picks up her head and stares at me.

“Winter, one more disrespectful comment, and I will send you to detention and call your father.”

“Okay, call him. He's never home anyways.” Now everybody is staring at me.

“I'm warning you, Winter. You’re skating on very thin ice.”

“That’s okay. I know how to ice skate.” I have the whole class dying laughing.

Miss Gale takes a deep breath. “Know what, Winter. I'm going to take a walk. When I come back, I hope you have controlled your mouth.” Miss Gale walks out of the classroom, and I just roll my eyes at her, take a deep breath, and sit back down slowly in my seat.

My name is Winter Juliana Marian Marino. I live with my dad, Marcus. He's a lawyer. My mom, Diane, left us when I was younger because she chose her stupid career over us. Well, that's what my dad told me. She never once picked up the phone to call us. No letters, no “Happy birthday”s, no nothing. That’s the least she could do.

I don't get how a mother could leave her family like that. We were happy. They argued like all married people do, but the way they looked at each other… Nobody could fake that. It was nothing but love. I remember when Diane would hold me in her arms for hours and never let me go and kiss me all over my face and read me to sleep. What was so bad that she packed her bags and left? How many arguments did she have in her head before she decided she couldn't take it anymore? Or did she just leave and never look back?

My mom met my dad when he was moving from Italy to New York. Marcus used his Italian accent to hit on Diane. He claimed he was lost. That was a lie; he knew perfectly well where he was. What female doesn’t like a man with an accent? Of course she fell for his charm. The rest is history.

Marcus is Italian. He has big, green eyes, blonde hair, and a porcelain skin complexion. Diane is Trinidadian with a chestnut skin tone and short, curly hair. I think half of her hair was weave. My older brother Rome and I have caramel skin complexions and green eyes. Rome keeps his hair gelled up and spiky, and I have long, dark brown, curly hair. I prefer my hair straight, and it usually takes up to an hour to straighten my hair every day. I have my mom's curvy figure. The boys at my school say that my figure can cause car accidents. Idiots! Who makes up these dumb pick-up lines, and who’s dumb enough to fall for them?

Every boy at this school tries to get with me but never succeeds. It’s just not happening. They’re just not my type, and it’s a waste of my time.

My older brother Rome is away at college. He goes to the University of Miami. I miss him a lot. When he used to attend high school before I enrolled, every female wanted him. He's not even cute, but his name still travels around. Like, get over him; he's not even thinking about you.

I don't see the attraction these females have for him. The things he does are total turn-offs. He eats with his mouth wide open, and you can see all his food mashing up together. That's just plain nasty! Like, close your mouth.

Caridad's dumb ass walks into class. She’s always late. Walking behind her are her dumb butt-lickers. She's just mad I won't lick her butt like they do. She sits right in front of me. She turns around in her seat to face me. She stares at me and smiles like I just amused her, and she flips her hair. I personally believe Caridad is jealous of me because I don't take her crap, unlike her butt-lickers. They do everything she tells them to do. It's like they don't have minds of their own. It’s sad to watch. I stand up to her; I will never let someone like Caridad boss me around and treat me like crap, like I'm nothing. That will never be me. If I have something to say, I will say it. I won't bite my tongue for anyone, especially not trash like Caridad. I'm not afraid of anybody, and definitely not Caridad. Nobody puts fear in my heart. She needs to know she cannot control everybody. Every time she gets some type of attention, positive or negative, she shows off like she's so important. It's whatever. It's not always about you; get over yourself.

Caridad flips her hair and continues to smile and stare at me. She really has nothing better to do with herself than harass me. “Winter, I love your green contacts. What store did you buy them at?” she laughs, and so do her butt-lickers.

“Caridad, unlike you, I don't wear fake shit.”

“I do not wear anything fake.” She laughs and looks around to see if anybody is paying attention to her. Her voice gets louder so that everybody begins paying attention. “I'm all natural.” Caridad flips her hair and throws her arm in the air dramatically.

“Caridad, the weave in your hair is FAKE.” I remember when we were in middle school, I walked in the bathroom and saw her taking off a wig. The length of her real hair stopped at the beginning of her neck. “The contacts are FAKE. Everything about you is FAKE. Don't try to deny it; you will just embarrass yourself. You’re just a wannabe. Look at your fake, wannabe-bougie ass.”

"Well, I heard you were adopted.”

This bitch wants to get slapped. “You didn't hear shit about me because I'm not adopted. Caridad, keep spreading lies about me, and I…” I have to take a deep breath. “Know what, forget it. You're not even worth it. You’re just mad you're not me.”

“Trust me, Winter, I don't want to be like you.”

“Yes, you do. You try so hard to be like me. It's cute though.” I just smile at Caridad. “I think it’s adorable that you look up to me.”

Caridad flips her hair. “Please, Winter, don't flatter yourself.”

“Caridad, everybody knows you want to be just like me. You even dyed your hair the same color as mine and got the same bag as mine—even though mine is real. What, you get that bag from the 99-cent store? But who’s counting, right?” I hear someone say, “Oooh, she got you! Check mate!” Everybody starts laughing, and Caridad gets really quiet. I can tell she’s embarrassed now. She continues to insult me, but I get bored of her and ignore her.

I have one best friend, Terri-Ann. She's got a dark brown skin complexion and short, bouncy, curly hair. Every time she moves, you can see her curls bounce, too. I tell her everything. Terri is the sweetest person you can meet, but don't get on her bad side. She will make your life nothing but hell—I’ve seen her do it.

The bell finally rings. I grab my books quickly and walk out of class. I bump into Jay, almost knocking him down, but I catch him before he falls on the floor. “My bad, Jay.”

Jay is conceited, and not in the sexy way. He carries a mirror in his back pocket, and he takes it out just to look at himself. Really, who does that? He hits on every girl who gives him some type of attention.

“Did you see Terri?” I asked Jay.

“Um…no, but I saw her earlier.”

“Well, if you see her, tell her I was looking for her.”

“Okay, I will, Winter. No dance today?”

“No, not today.” I take dance lessons at a studio three days a week. I want to be a professional hip-hop dancer and teach choreographed dancing.

I drive home and walk inside. “Dad?” I call out. No answer. He's probably still at work. I take my mug that I made in pottery class out of my bag and place it with the rest of the family photos on the mantel in the living room. Marcus has removed every picture of Diane. I walk into the kitchen and make myself a sandwich. I'm really fed up with Caridad. She gets under my skin. I don't show it, but she gets me so angry. One of these days she's going to catch me on a bad day where I say, “Fuck self-control,” and fuck that bitch up.

Marcus walks into the living room.

“Hey, Dad. When you get home?”

“Around two, I think.”

“Well, I was calling you.”

“Sorry, I had ear plugs in my ears.”

“Dad, why did you have ear plugs in your ears?”

“I'm working on this big case.” Marcus is a workaholic. Ever since Diane left us, all he does is work, work, and more work. I think that's how he deals with his pain. He never takes a vacation. The last time we went on a vacation, Diane was still here. We went to Disney World.

“Dad, you need to take a vacation.”

“I know, it's this case.”

“Dad, there's always going to be a case.”

I sit on the couch next to Marcus and finish my sandwich.

Terri storms through the front door like she lives here. Anybody could rob us because Marcus never locks the front door.

Terri sits next to me on the couch. “Hello, Mr. Marino,” Terri greets Marcus.

“Hello, Terri,” Marcus says back. Marcus walks out of the living room and into the kitchen.

“O.M.G., Winter, my mom is driving me crazy.”

“What happened this time?” Terri thinks her mom is out to ruin her life.

“So I was in the dining room texting Mark.”

“As usual,” I say. Terri smiles. Mark is Terri’s head-over heels, can't-live-without-you boyfriend. They've been dating since junior high school.

“My mom came in the kitchen and said she thinks Mark and I are getting way too serious.” Terri didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“So what did you say?”

“I told her how I felt. I said, ‘Instead of worrying about my relationship, worry about your marriage. You can’t even keep Dad home.’”

“You said that?”

“Yes,” Terri says quickly, acting like what she said was nothing.

“Terri, that was harsh. What did your mom say?”

“She slapped me in the face, so I left. I should call A.C.S. on her. That’s child abuse, you know.”

“Terri, you’re sixteen years old. That is not an A.C.S. case, and you probably hurt her feelings.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“She’s your mother, and she deserves some respect.”

“I know, but she never gives me room to breathe. She’s always hovering over me. Winter, it’s like I’m suffocating. All she says to me is, ‘You'll thank me one day.’ Thank her about what? All she said was that she thinks Mark and I are getting too serious and that I’m just a teenager who can't control my emotions.”

“Do you talk to her?”

“All the time.”

“Terri, just talk to her.”

“Are you even listening to me? I always talk to her.”

“Terri, that’s not what I mean. I want you to really talk to her and make sure she hears you, not just listens to you. She is your mother, and you need give her some respect. At least she cares and didn’t leave you for her job.”

“You’re right.” Terri takes a deep breath; she doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, but then she looks at me. “I’m sorry, Winter, you’re right.”

“Don’t apologize to me; apologize to her.” I change the subject. I hate talking about my mother; it gets me upset.

“So how's Mark treating you?”

“Great!” Terri blushed. I really don’t want to know what that’s all about.

Marcus walks in the living room wearing a tacky, red, ripped apron around his waist. “Dinner time.”

We walk to the bathroom to wash our hands. My dad has cooked smothered pork chops, mashed potatoes with gravy, and string beans, as well as homemade iced tea. Nobody utters a word; the meal is so good, nobody has anything to say. I even have a second plate.

After we finish eating, Terri stands up.

“Mr. Marino, that was excellent,” Terri says, rubbing her flat belly.

“Winter used to tell me how much she enjoyed my cooking. Now, look!” I roll my eyes, and Marcus stands up.

“Well, I will see you kids later,” Marcus says, leaving the dining room.

I start to wash the dishes while Terri cleans the table. “Terri, you know you don’t have to clean.”

“I know,” Terri says as she grabs the rag out of the sink.

“Winter, can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.” Terri rolls her eyes at me, and I laugh, saying, “Okay, go ahead, Terri, and ask me.”

“Why don’t you date anymore?”

If I had known she was going to ask me this question, I would have said “No.” I look up at the ceiling, thinking, Not this again. She had asked me the same question a couple of months ago. “Terri, didn’t we discuss this already?”

Terri hands me the dishes. “Yes, but I need to keep pushing you. Look at you. You’re beautiful and popular, and you’re the captain of the dance team and, don’t forget, my best friend. Any guy would love to date you, but you shut them all down. You don't give any guy a chance.”

“Terri, it’s not all about dating. There’s more to life than guys. Guys will come and go and break your heart and some.” I smile and continue, “There will be the one guy I’ll fall in love with, and nothing else will matter. But first I want to explore, Terri. Have fun, party, go out. I’ll find a guy, but when I do I want to be ready.”

“Winter, you haven’t been dating since middle school.”

I roll my eyes; here we go, again. “Terri, stop. Please. When I start dating, you will be the first to know, so drop it.”

Terri lets out a breath in frustration and says, “Fine.” She looks down at her watch. “I better get going before my mom sends the police squad looking for me.” She smiles and kisses me on my cheek before leaving through the front door.

I head upstairs to take a nice, hot shower. I walk downstairs into the kitchen, open the freezer, and take out a gallon of strawberry ice cream. I sit on the couch pretzel-style, watching a movie and eating ice cream. I fall asleep without realizing it; when I wake up, my gallon of ice cream is all melted. Half-asleep, I head upstairs to my room to use the bathroom, and then I climb onto my bed and fall right back to sleep.

The next morning, Marcus wakes me up by shaking me awake. “Winter.” Marcus continues shaking me. When I open my eyes, he looks mad.

“Yeah,” I whine.

“Get up.”

“Give me a few minutes.” I throw the covers back over my head to go back to sleep.

“Winter, if you don't get up now, you will be late. You don't have another few minutes to sleep.”

I sit up quickly on my bed. “What?”

“I said, you don't have—!”

I cut him off. “I heard you the first time.”

“What happened?” he demands. “You were supposed to have been up and almost ready by now.” I can hear the attitude in his voice.

“I know. I know, Dad. I forgot to set my alarm clock last night.”

I brush through my messy hair.

“Winter, hurry up,” he says sternly before leaving my room.

I jump out of my bed and take a quick shower. I usually take a longer shower than this, but I'm running late. I blow out and straighten my hair quickly; it isn’t really as straight as it normally looks. I grab my brush out of my dresser, brush my hair into a neat ponytail, and curl my bangs. I put on my sliver hoop earrings—not those fake ones you buy in the 99-cent store—that fake shit is cheap. I wear the real silver earrings with the real diamonds.

I get dressed and apply my red lip gloss that makes my lips nice and juicy and plump. I make my bed; I don't usually make my bed, but what the hell? I'm feeling lucky today. I know, I know: You don’t have to remind me. Marcus tells me all the time that I take a long time getting dressed, but you have to pay a big price when you’re beautiful like me. You can’t rush perfection.

I grab my book bag and head downstairs. Marcus has already left for work. He left on the countertop my favorite blueberry muffin. I take a big bite and pour a cup of hot, fresh, steaming French vanilla coffee. I inhale the aroma and sip on my coffee slowly, so I won't burn my tongue. I grab my keys off the coffee table, and I walk out the front door. When I arrive at school, I park in the students’ parking lot.

I get out and spot Terri and Mark kissing like there’s no more air left. “Get a room!” I shout jokingly.

Terri smiles, shakes her head at me, and continues to kiss Mark. As I walk over to Terri, she breaks their kiss.

“I forgot to set my alarm clock this morning, and my dad had to wake me up. He was mad.” Mark kisses Terri on the lips quickly.

“I’ll see you later, babe,” Mark says to Terri and kisses her again on the lips. “Later, Winter.”

I just nod my head. I don’t really talk to Mark. We only say “hey” and “bye” to each other for Terri’s sake. It’s not that I don't like him; we just disagree on a lot of things that will turn into arguments, so for the love of Terri we just don't say anything to each other but “hey” and “bye.”