#he's so priddy when he smiles :(

[markpakin]

i don't understand but i luv u

#pavel naret #pavel phoom #thai actors #bl actors #pit babe the series #actors #*gifs #esmetracks #mjtag #uservix #he's so priddy when he smiles :(

[amydancepants-peralta]

mr mendes just released a new song & i was wondering if you could write something inspired by the line: "i wonder what it's like to be loved by you" 😌✨

Ericaaa I loved this prompt! 💕 Of course I had to throw in some Pining because it’s so good ... hope you enjoy! (here it is on AO3)

to be loved by you 

It’s a secret to absolutely no-one that Amy Santiago is the kind of woman that likes to excel in any skillset.  Unapologetic in her badass-ery, she can (and has) chase a perp through the boroughs of Brooklyn in boots that have a higher heel than three of her male colleagues put together.  Her finely tuned memory - the same one that has led Trivia Newton John to seven straight victories - helped solve a series of long-dead case files, and her problem solving skills are the reason that one of the city’s biggest kingpins is currently behind bars.   

With this in mind, one could consider it safe to say that Amy regretting her natural ability to ace any situation would be up there with hell freezing over, or for a flock of pigs to soar across the sky. 

But tonight, here in Shaw’s bar as she watches Jake have what seems to be a lovely date with Sophia; Amy just might be, if only maybe a little, slightly regretting her highly graded observation skills (yes, the same ones that pushed her into the highest percentile when graduating from the academy - which she very rarely brags about, and she really should - it was mentioned in the commissioners speech and everything).  

To be fair, it wasn’t all bad.  She could, for example; hear the jukebox in the corner, playing Come on Eileen for the fifth time in a row - unknowingly settling into a duet with squelching sneakers as a bunch of drunken frat guys danced, all of them too far gone to notice any repetition.  Plus, she could pick up on the subtle click of the acrylic nails on the woman at a neighbouring table, listening to them tap against a series of her friends’ photographs, rotating between descriptions of priddy and gawgeous.  

Mixed with the scent of spilled beer and day-old peanuts, it was exactly the combination that to others may appear seedy, but to Amy and the squad, just seemed … familiar.  Shaw’s was their watering hole, the basement bar each could disappear into and drink to forget their days, and despite the five empty glasses on her table and the half-full one in her hand, Amy was finding it incredibly difficult to stop noticing just how sweet Jake was with his girlfriend.  

Even more impossible was to stop imagining what it would be like if she were the one standing near the dart board, with Jake’s arm resting comfortably over her shoulders.   

It had all started earlier today, when she had glanced over at her partner just in time to pick up on the tiny little smile that grew on his face when he noticed a text from Sophia.

(Okay, it’s possible that it had actually started back at The Maple Drip Inn, with that look he’d given her after maybe, yes, a little.  It had definitely led to a series of Thoughts after Teddy’s departure, of which she’d only given herself just that night to think about.)

(Except ‘that night’ then turned into that week, and okay fine then it had turned into ‘just that month'; and now here she is, several weeks later; completely unable of getting Jake Peralta off of her mind, and it’s becoming very likely that this is more than just a little crush.)

It had been so endearing to see, that tiny glimpse of joy and enchantment as he’d read Sophia’s message - just fleeting enough for Amy to wonder if anybody had ever reacted to a message from her with such glee.  (Teddy, she remembers, preferred not to text; and would instead express his affections by saving her the last bottle of his favourite pilsner, or brewing a new concoction ‘inspired by her’ … sweet, but somehow didn’t hold the same sentiment.)

So she’d kept her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her as she listened to Jake pick up the phone and order a bunch of flowers to be delivered to Sophia’s office - using his debit card, and not a combination of the five questionably balanced credit cards under his name - which in itself is huge.  Pretended not to notice the multiple kiss emojis in his reply, or the soft tune that he hummed for a few minutes after, focusing intensely on the case file in front of her as she described a recent interrogation in finite detail.  Kept up the facade of all that stuff with us is in the past as he recounted a romantic weekend to their squad in the break room - laughing along in all the right places, doing her very best to keep the wistfulness out of her eyes.  

And all the while, Amy’s mind had kept contemplating if she would ever get to know what it would be like to date someone like Jake: to have somebody who would take all the black and whites of her life and show her the beautiful greys in-between. 

So when he’d shown up at Shaw’s this evening, with Sophia’s hand carefully wrapped around his own and a grin that announced his contentment to anyone who cared to look; Amy had felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest.  Her painted smile had just lasted until the couple retreated to the corner for a crazily competitive game of darts, and Amy had decided tonight would be a great opportunity to drown her sorrows in a few glasses of whiskey, doing her absolute best not to notice all the little things she will never have.

Like the way Jake would punctuate each congratulatory high five with a kiss, even when it meant that his girlfriend had beaten him at a game.  The gentle way he steered them away from a rambunctious crowd, keeping an eye on the raised voices as his unaware girlfriend played her shot and came so close to hitting the bullseye.  Or the way Sophia’s hand would rest on Jake’s chest as he held her in his arms (just the way that Amy wishes she could do), and the way she would laugh so happily as he commented on the drunk guys dancing near them.  

It was all very simple, but undeniably sweet, and Amy doesn’t know how she ever doubted that Jake would be anything but. 

“Your covert skills need work, Santiago.”

The chair beside Amy scrapes angrily against the worn floorboards and she turns, startled by the interruption, quietly praying that her face isn’t quite as red as it suddenly feels.  Terry, far more interested in taking the last sip of his scotch than commenting on her appearance, settles in to his new location next to her, and his glass hits the soaking cardboard coaster with a slap.  

“Wha-huh?  Covert skills?  You really must be drunk, Sarge.  We’re not even on a stakeout right now.  Unless you’re talking about us staking out the contents of that fridge behind the bar haha!”  

(She’s rambling - she knows she’s rambling; but cannot stop the desperate need to pretend that she hadn’t just been completely busted for spending her entire evening staring at a life she may never know.)  

“Ugh.  Okay fine.”  Her mouth stretches out into a cringe, eyes flickering to the colleagues Terry had just walked away from.  “How noticeable are we talking here?”

“Noticeable enough that Charles has spent the last 40 minutes lamenting on ‘the beautiful tragedy of unrequited love’”.  Dropping his air quotes, Terry rolls his eyes, one eyebrow lowering as he returns to his drink.  “He lost me when he started quoting poetry.  Terry loves Shakespeare, but he could do with a little less soliloquies - and a little more spirits - tonight.”

“Oh!  You know what, there was just a Shakespeare play in Polonsky that starred - ” Terry overlaps her last words with his own heavy voice, and Amy’s stops in it’s tracks.  

“Dianne Wiest.  Terry knows.  That was his segue, Amy.”

She nods, sensing the need to dig up.  “Should have known.  Charles loves his Wiest feasts.”  Terry grunts his assent, pressing his lips together as he savours another verse-less sip, and Amy seizes the opportunity to cast another furtive glance at the happy couple.  

“Seriously, though.  Just because Peralta hasn’t noticed, doesn’t mean the rest of us haven’t.”

Amy brushes her hair to the side, swirling the liquid in her glass with her free hand.  “Okay, so maybe I haven’t been very subtle tonight, or whatever.”  Her gaze returns to Jake, drawn to him like a magnet, and her heart squeezes once more.  

To his credit, Terry gives her a moment; waiting for a silence to settle over their table before leaning forward in his chair, ignoring the sticky residue of the tabletop as he rests his arms on either side of his glass. 

“Out with it, Santiago.”

She shakes her head, swallowing hard to push down the burgeoning lump in her throat.  “They look really happy together, don’t they?  He looks … happy.”

Terry shrugs, glancing in the direction of Amy’s eye line.  “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“He does!  All shiny and cheerful and just .. happy.”

“I don’t know.  Terry remembers a time when you and Teddy looked just as content.”  His look is pointed, and followed by the unsubtle raise of his eyebrows.  Amy nods, draining the last of her drink.  Somehow, she has a feeling that Sophia’s underwear isn’t lined with mesh like Teddy’s had been (and even if it was, it would be some kind of inexplicably sexy mesh, for sure). 

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem, sarge.”

“You know that works both ways, don’t you?”

Nodding again, Amy wipes her thumb along the smudged lipstick print on her glass, choosing to remain silent.  Terry didn’t get it - none of them got it, really.  She’d had her chance, the very first time the words romantic styles were uttered, and she’d let it slip away.  And now, she has to live with the consequences.  

Clearing his throat, Terry continues.  “I mean … she is a defence attorney, you know.”

“But see, even that isn’t something that I can fault.  Not fairly, anyway.”  Clocking the look of disbelief on Terry’s face, Amy shrugs defensively, waving her hand vaguely in Sophia’s direction.  “I know we all like to joke and call them evil, but really … all they’re doing is making us prove that our findings are beyond reasonable doubt.  If anything, it’s people like her that push us to do better - to work harder to make sure that we’re definitely charging the right person.  And as annoying as that can be, it’s definitely not a reason to hate her.”

“Kinda sounds like you do, though.”

She shakes her head, feeling the sense of defeat sink into her bones.  “I really don’t.  She’s incredibly smart, and funny and beautiful … she honestly looks like she should be in a commercial for shampoo or something.  She’s perfect for Jake, and I’m just …”

“You’re just … ?”

Shrugging, Amy slots her thumbnail into the edge of the coaster underneath her glass.  It, like her heart, had seen better days, and it was time for her to cut her losses.  “I’m just … going home.”

“What?  No.  Stay!  Our squad kicked butt this week, Amy.  We all deserve a drink.”

Painting another smile onto her face (she really is getting good at them), Amy pushes her seat away from the table, allowing herself one more glimpse at Jake’s smile before shaking her head at Terry.  “Sorry sarge, I just can’t seem to celebrate tonight.”

Heading towards the exit without a second thought, Amy doesn’t see Jake pull away from Sophia, taking a half step in the direction of the door as he watches her leave.  She doesn’t notice him pull out his phone, start to type a message before hesitating, pocketing it without hitting send.  The night moves on as Amy walks away, and the streets are deafeningly silent as soon as the bar door closes behind her.  

The sky seems to feel just as morose as Amy this evening, tiny droplets dropping onto her grey work blazer as she waits for a cab; too lost in her thoughts to take in the frivolity of a parting crowd.  As the rain increases and the splotches on her blazer turn into tiny Rorschach Tests she decides to give herself one more night - one last night of wishing for things that will never be. 

In the backseat on her ride home Amy twists her hands together, linking her fingers and imagining not for the first time that one hand was Jake’s (she would imagine similar .. later).  She thinks of what it could be like to have his warm presence near hers .. to have his hand resting on her leg, not out of possession but just to be near.  Watching him get out of the car first, only to turn and offer a helping hand for her exit, every time without fail.  

She pictures what it would be like to feel the brick exterior of her apartment against her back as Jake presses his soft lips against hers, kissing the life out of her, making her see stars before pulling her into the apartment for so much more.   

He wouldn’t always be the perfect partner - and lord knows, neither would she - but Amy knows that through it all he would remain her best friend, because even through all of this yo-yo pattern of denial and admittance, thats who Jake has been for her.  After all these years, he’s become the only one she wants to talk to, at any given moment of the day, who knows her coffee order better than his own and remembers her Abuela’s birthday, even when she hasn’t mentioned it in weeks.  

The scent of rain lingers in her apartment as Amy readies herself for bed, casting her pantsuit aside with drunken abandonment and giving her face a half-hearted wash before stumbling towards her bed.  She closes her eyes, the thoughts of what could have been still so loud in her quiet apartment, hugging the pillow beside her tightly while her mind begins to wander.  

As she finally drifts off to sleep that night, Amy tries not to remember the smile that Jake gave her as they danced so long ago at the community hall - that special kind of smile, that made her think that maybe it was solely for her - and tells herself once. and. for. all. that sometimes, life just doesn’t work out the way you’d hope.

* 

* * 

It’s a rush of cool air that alerts Amy to a brand new morning, the drop in temperature squashed as quickly as it arrives by the wrapping of a warm arm around her middle.  She smiles into the pillow as it completes its protective loop, letting her body get pulled closer to the human hot water bottle in the middle of her bed, and if there was a better way to wake up on a cold day, Amy is yet to see it.  

She lets out a sigh of comfort as the bridge of a prominent nose digs into her shoulder blade, feeling the warmth of his breath through her old academy shirt, nestling closer until her legs are well and truly tangled amongst his.  It’s late, later than she would normally allow herself to sleep, but the two of them were far too invested in basking in the afterglow of a rainy Saturday filled with sex and movies to consider leaving the bedroom anytime soon.  

Jake’s voice is rough, the remnants of a deep sleep obvious in his throat.  “Today’s Sunday, right?”

Amy nods, wriggling herself just free enough to turn within her boyfriend’s embrace.  His hair is sticking out on all ends - unaided, she is certain, by her hands the night before - and she runs the tip of her thumb along his right cheekbone.  Though his eyes are still closed, he leans into her touch, and she grins.  “Definitely Sunday.  A rainy Sunday, but part of the weekend all the same.”

He nods, the short and prickly fibres of his morning stubble scratching her palm.  “Good.  More time for time machine building.”

“… we’re building a time machine?”

“Yeah, one that lets us skip past all the boring work stuff, and leaves us with all the time in the world for more of this.  Kinda like that movie Click, but a lot less ‘trying to change the past’ stuff, and a lot more sex.”

She chuckles, and his left foot rubs along the side of her calf under the blanket.  “You’re crazy, Peralta.”  (Although, she will admit - the ‘a lot more sex’ part did sound kinda great.)

His eyelids flutter open, gaze growing soft as a smile stretches across his face.  “You’re beautiful, Santiago.”

Amy feels her cheeks begin to heat up, resisting the urge to cool herself down by tucking her hair away, completely unable to move as long as Jake continues to look at her like that.  There’s a pimple growing underneath the surface of her chin that is going to rival Mount Vesuvius, and her morning breath could probably wilt the flower pots living happily on her kitchen’s windowsill.  But here, in bed with her boyfriend of almost two years, she feels more beautiful than all of her best days put together.  

“I don’t think I’ve told you this today, but I love you, Jake.”

Leaning forwards, Jake’s soft lips press against Amy’s, and he winks as he pulls away.  “I mean, we’ve both been awake for a sum total of three minutes, so yeah, you’re pretty late with the love you’s today, babe.”

Her free hand flies out from under the cover, delivering an indignant smack to Jake’s chest, and he grabs it back before she can pull away, linking their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.  “I love you too, Ames.  Even if you don’t want to build a time machine with me, I still love you.”

She laughs - a giggle that starts in her belly and bursts through her lungs, something that she’s been doing a lot more of these days - and pulls Jake in for a longer kiss, morning breath be damned.  

One day, in eight or so years time, they’ll have a son - a miniature version of Jake that, much like his father, runs to the beat of his own drum; and answers to the name Mac.  Amy will fall pregnant again, and when they explain to their son that he’s going to be a big brother, his response is so perfectly him that it makes Amy’s eyes tear up with laughter.  

For they are, by Mac’s decree, now officially a Ninja Turtle family.  He is Raphael (or ‘Rafel’), Jake Michelangelo due to his love of nunchaku, and Amy nabs Leonardo purely out of homage to one of her favourite artists.  The mini-Peralta still growing in her womb is, by default, Donatello (or Donatella, depending), and even though there was a time when Amy truly felt like she could never be this lucky, she will love their little family with all of her heart.  

But for now, she has Jake; and together they have warm bedsheets and no plans for a future that isn’t together - no matter what obstacles may be thrown their way.  

And Amy realises, as Jake begins to trace a series of kisses along her side of her neck; truly, being loved by him is better than she could have ever imagined.  

x

#it's all about the yearning #pining!Amy #fic prompts #has the ninja turtle family thing been done? I can't remember #b99 fanfic #peraltiago fanfiction #b99fic

[joezworld]

Money (1/2)

Merchandising! 

April, 1997

One morning, Bear was sunning himself in the yard when a group of men in dark suits approached him. 

“Excuse me,” One of them said. “Would you happen to be D7101?”

Bear cracked open an eye. “I haven’t been D7101 in thirty years. Why do you ask?”

“We are from the law offices of Goodman, McGill, and Associates.” The man said quickly, causing Bear to open both of his eyes. “And we represent the Learning Curve Corporation. They would like to license your image for use in their new toy line.” 

As if by magic, one of the other men produced a thick sheaf of papers, which he presented to Bear, who viewed them quizzically. “If you could just sign here.”

“License my image?” Bear didn’t know any of the words that the man was using, but he did know one word that described who these men were: Lawyers.

One of his previous drivers had gone through a very messy ‘divorce’, and had informed Bear that ‘the only good lawyer is your lawyer. All the rest are crooks!’

These men very clearly weren’t his lawyers, so that meant that they were crooks. He viewed the stack of papers that were being held out to him - judging from their predatory smiles and London accents, it was likely that they didn’t believe he could read, and even if they did, he doubted they were going to let him take the time to read every page of that document, especially considering that he didn’t have any hands to hold it with!

“Gentlemen, I do not believe that now is the best time for this,” he said while looking over at the door to the yard offices as though his driver was about to come out of it. “Perhaps we could meet again in a few days? Seven tomorrow night at the big station?”

The men agreed, and left. 

When Bear’s driver eventually did show up several hours later, he found his engine unusually eager to go, especially considering their destination. 

-

Wellsworth

“Good afternoon Mister Growls!” Said Ben cheekily as he shunted Bear’s clay trucks. 

“Same to you.” Bear said. “Listen, Ben-”

“I’m Bill.”

“Whichever one you are - you seem like the kind of engine who knows how to get a lawyer. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

“You might be...” Ben said slowly. “But why does such a fine upstanding engine like you need a lawyer?”

After Bear finished explaining, Ben looked unusually upset, and had dropped the playful attitude he usually had. “Those berks are tying to swindle you! Don’t worry - I do know someone. He’ll meet you tonight.”

-

 That night, Ben’s lawyer, who was actually called a solicitor, met with Bear in the sheds. He was a peculiar man, with an American accent, white hair, and a simply ridiculous combination of clothing - red pants, a blue tie, and a checked coat - that somehow worked quite well on him. Bear was suspicious, but Ben had assured him that for all his peculiarities, he was excellent at what he did. 

After listening to what Bear had been told, he agreed with what Ben had said. 

“How are they swindling me?” Bear asked, puzzled. 

“Well, this company makes toys based on the Thin Clergyman’s books, and the television series that is based off of the books.” The man explained. 

“When they make the toys, they’re basing them off of the drawings of you in the books or the models in the tv series. So they wouldn’t have to pay anyone, because the artists were paid by the publishers, so they own the rights to those drawings, and then the publishers hired the toy company, so they can use the drawings from the books.” 

“Now, I don’t know why they would try to buy the license to your image, but you have only appeared in a few books, so it might be possible that the artist doesn’t have the drawings anymore, or there’s another reason why. International copyright law is very difficult.”

 Bear, who felt very overwhelmed, had to agree!

-

The Next Day

Bear arrived at the big station with the 18:45 Limited. Once the shunter took away his train, Bear had his driver park him on the siding closest to the platforms. 

The lawyers showed up at 7:00 on the dot, an enormous pile of papers in their hands. 

“Mister 7101!” The leader said, smiling like a predatory animal. “A pleasure to see you again! Have you given any thought to our proposal?”

Bear smiled. Unlike yesterday, he was prepared, and his smile was much sharper than it would ordinarily be. From the platform, Oliver shivered - he’d seen smiles like that before - on diesels in the 60′s.

“I have, and I believe that my solicitor would like to discuss the particulars of this contract with you.”

Bear’s solicitor, who had been standing behind a pillar wearing an absurd white jacket, stepped into view. “Hello gentlemen. I understand that you wish to use my client’s image?”

The lawyer’s faces fell as they turned to face Bear’s lawyer, who was beaming broadly. 

“Thomas Perfect, attorney at law. Here’s my card.”

The other men frowned deeply as he swiped the papers from them and began perusing them. After a moment, his smile fell, and he glared at the men as though they’d insulted him. “You lot have a lot of nerve trying to approach my client with this.” He said, gesturing to the papers. “He will sign absolutely nothing until you come back with a real contract - now get out of here before I report you to The Law Society!” 

The men fled in the most dignified manner they could, leaving Bear and Mr. Perfect alone. 

“I am so glad that I was here - that was one of the most offensive offers I have ever been presented with!” He ranted to Bear. “Honestly, the nerve of those people!”

“What did it say?”

“Oh nothing much - except that they wanted to take your image and make toys from it without paying you! If you’d signed this, they’d have been well within their rights to do whatever they wanted and not pay you a penny - Priddy or otherwise!” 

Bear was offended, even if he still didn’t know what any of that meant. 

He asked Mr. Perfect this, and he laughed. 

“So basically what these swindlers are trying to do is buy from you, the rights to use your image - and by image I mean what you look like specifically, because you own that - so they can make products from it. These people want to make toys, so they want to buy your image so they can make little models of you and sell them.” 

He paused. “What’s really offensive here is that they didn’t want to license your image - which means that you own it still but are letting them use it for a fee; they wanted to buy your image outright for a pittance! I think this said a few hundred pounds, which is absolutely ludicrous. If I were a good man I’d report them to the Law Society, but I’m a lawyer, so I’m going to rake them over the coals and take every pound they have instead.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes! Yes it is!”

----

Several weeks went by, and the men never returned - Mr. Perfect had apparently been negotiating with their employers directly, and it was not necessary for them to come to Sodor.

Bear had been kept appraised of the ‘negotiations’ that had been ongoing - apparently his lawyer was very good at his job, or the other lawyers were very bad at theirs - and he was now getting an extremely generous offer for ‘the nonexclusive licensing of his image specifically in regards to wooden railway-compatible models’, whatever that meant - it had been explained to him several times, but he still didn’t quite understand it. His lawyer assured him that this was on purpose, but he shouldn’t worry about it. 

Finally, two months later, a balding man with a severe gray suit arrived at the big station with Bear’s lawyer, who was quite naturally dressed in the most flamboyant outfit Bear had ever seen. 

“Mister Bear,” He said after a moment, looking like he had swallowed a lemon. “I feel that we have gotten off on the wrong foot with our meeting, and I would like to apologize. After careful consultation with Mister Perfect, I believe that this contract is more than acceptable. Forty percent gross retail sales, an annual license fee of fifteen thousand pounds per year for at least five years, beginning when sales begin at Christmas, and final veto power over any future products. I trust that this is all acceptable?”

Bear’s lawyer nodded, so Bear accepted. It took some doing, but with a pen jammed between his teeth, Bear managed to sign the papers. 

-

-

“So Mister Toy-Train,” Bill teased. “Where are they?”

“Where’s what?” Bear asked warily.

“The models! I heard that you were the hottest toy of the year.” 

“Oh, that.” Bear had heard all about the trouble his model had caused. “I’d imagine that they’re still stuck in transit. I don’t know much about toy-making, but I would assume that it’s not normal for there to not be enough toys at Christmas!”

“Actually, that’s a sign that its popular! It means that everybody wants one, and when nobody can get one, people’ll go mad to get their hands on one.” 

“I hope nobody went mad over a model of me!” 

“Oh you should my large Bear-y friend! That means that more people are buying the models, which means that you’re getting more money from that company!”

“Hmm. I suppose I should look into that.” Bear’s eyes widened as he remembered something. “Oh right - I was supposed to ask you if you knew any ‘money managers?’ Mister Perfect said that you knew someone who was trustworthy.”

“Oh I do, but it might not be worth it if its only a few thousand pounds. My brother and I invest our own money because we started out that way.”

“You have money?”

“Oh yeah! We own a racehorse - he does really well.”

"No they don’t!” Shouted BoCo from the other end of the yard. 

“Ignore him.” Bill said. “How much money is it?”

Bear told him how much money it was.

“I’ll put you in touch with her.” Bill gasped, his eyes wide. 

#ttte #ttte bear #sodor #sodor shenangians #ttte bill #perfect tommy #yes i made a buckaroo bonzai reference #big money in the wooden railway scene i guess #ttte wooden railway #ttte BoCo #story - money #this is just what perfect tommy does when he's not playing around with buckaroo bonzai and you can't prove me wrong #fic

[homebody-nobody]

43, 53 for jiara❤️

hi hello i finally wrote it and also wOW this one got long

Rating: M (implied?? maybe?? if ya like) Word count: 1411

43) take off your shirt, 53) pick up lines only work when I’m drunk

JJ takes a drag off his beer and drops his head against the tree he’s been leaning on for the past half an hour. The kegger was fun, until Jeremy Gabriels showed up and Kie realized that her eighth-grade crush had been sending her eyes all night. All she had to do was stand and head for the dance circle, and he’d sidled up with his hand on the small of her back. Kie normally threatened to remove body parts of the men who touched her without her permission, but she’d turned, and smiled, and looped her arms around Jeremy’s neck. That was about the moment JJ decided he was done for the night. 

Now, he’s standing in the shadows, watching Kie dance with stupid fucking Jeremy, and the jealousy in his chest is a familiar ache. He’d asked her out, once. A million years ago, when they were still just kids. Did it right, with flowers and anything. She’d taken them, thanked him for being such a good friend, and in so doing, politely locked the door that led to them being anything other than best friends. Still, after all these years, he burns for her. It’s stupid and childish and so fucking helpless, but the reason he’s never gotten involved with anyone else, all the same. There have been hookups, sure. Flings with tourons and rebellious kook girls, but nothing, nothing, like the way he feels about Kiara. 

He doesn’t plan on doing anything about it until he watches Kiara stumble as Jeremy leads her away from the dance circle and toward the trees. Kie doesn’t drink too much. She knows her limits, and is always sure that she maintains control. So when she leans back toward the fire and Jeremy tugs on her arm instead of letting her go, JJ’s moving. 

“No, no listen,” Kie insists, and the slur in her words is difficult to hear. He doesn’t know if Jeremy’s slipped her something or if she’s gone a little too hard to try and impress him. Either way, the grip Jeremy has on her arm clouds the edges of his vision. “I can’t -- I’m not supposed to go off by myself,” she says. “I’s the rules.” The rules. Big John made them up, back when Kiara joined their ragtag little gang, roundabout the sixth grade. No pogue on pogue macking. That was one of the rules then, too. 

“It’ll be fine,” Jeremy says, and the grin on his face makes JJ feel physically sick. He’s close enough now, and he taps Jeremy on the shoulder. The guy turns, but doesn’t have any time to react before JJ’s fist is crashing across his face. 

Jeremy drops like a fucking stone, the wimp. 

“Ha!” Kie shouts, almost losing her balance as she leans over to spit the word in Jeremy’s face. Her feet  jog up and down in the sand as she does a stupid little dance. “Asshole!!” 

JJ catches her shoulder and pulls her upright. “You okay?” he asks. 

She jerks out of his grip. “I had it handled,” she grumps, sticking her lower lip out. JJ can’t help but laugh. 

“Sure you did,” he allows. 

“Nothin’ woulda --” she burps, and sways, and her brown eyes are glazed over and starry. “Nothin’ woulda happened.” 

“I know, Kie,” he says, and reaches out again, his hand hovering just over her arm, there to catch her if she needs it. 

“I’m a badass!” she insists, and goes to punch him in the shoulder. Her fists lands, but she overbalances and nearly falls into his chest. He catches her by both arms and stands her up straight. 

“Yeah, you are,” he says kindly. He’s not usually the more sober of the two of them, and is suddenly grateful for all the nights she’s spent taking care of him. “You wanna go back to the party?” he asks. She closes her eyes and rocks back on her heels, and he has to brace his weight to catch her. “Oh, no no no!” he mutters, and when she rebalances, she actually does faceplant against his shoulder. 

“Thanks for hittin’ ‘im, tho,” she mumbles, her face smushed against his body. “Tha’ was priddy cool of you.” Awkwardly, he pats her back with one hand, the other arm around her waist, holding her up. His stomach flips with her heat and proximity. He’s touchy with all his friends, but not Kie. He can’t handle it, knowing what it might feel like if things had gone differently all those years ago. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, and she giggles in a very un-Kie-like manner. “Fuck,” he mutters, “how much did you drink?” She leans away from him, but he keeps an arm around her, just to make sure she doesn’t fall over -- or get close to falling over -- again. 

Grinding the heels of her palms into her eyes, Kiara screws up her face like a little kid. “Last one was probably a mistake,” she admits. “Shouldn -- shouldna done that.”

“So,” he starts, and she hums, and nuzzles her face into his neck, and he bites his lip, closes his eyes, and begs the universe for patience. “Um --” 

“I’m cold,” she whines, and brings her arms up around his waist, tucking herself against him. 

“Fuck, shit, goddamnit --” he mutters under his breath, Kie giggles again. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” 

He manages to get her back up the beach to the Twinkie, and she collapses in the back like a ragdoll. Handing her a bottle of water, he tells her to drink all of it, and then straps himself into the driver’s seat. He has to keep glancing over his shoulder as he drives back to the Chateau to make sure she doesn’t pass out or anything. She just keeps looking at him with a stupid, dopey smile, and, at one point, gives him a stupid two-finger salute. 

Getting her up the steps and through both doors is a challenge, but eventually he gets her into the spare bedroom, and digs out a clean t-shirt and boxers from the duffel he’s been living out of. “Alright, Kie,” he says. “Pyjamas.”

She’s laying in the bed that has essentially become his over the past few months, her hair spread across the pillow, crop top ridden up to expose her tanned, toned stomach, the sharp crest of her hipbones. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry at the sight of her spread out in the moonlight. She’s smiling, liquid and lazy, and the only thing he wants is to fall over her, take her body in his hands, and kiss her until they both dissolve into stars. 

“Lay down with me,” she says, reaching out with grabby hands. He chokes a little bit on his own spit, and just holds out the clothes a little farther. The slur in her voice is gone. She’d either sobered up in the van, or was acting more drunk at the beach than she really was. 

“Kie, just take the clothes,” he says, hating how cracked and broken his own voice sounds. Her arms drop to the comforter. 

“Buzzkill,” she mutters, and then, louder, “Make me.” Blood rushes into his face, and, despite his better judgment, he kneels on the bed. She sits up, a self-satisfied grin on her face, and JJ holds his breath, caught in a decision. She’s challenging him. Making this into a game. But he knows that door is locked. He’s tried it. She won’t do anything to shatter their friendship. She expects him to fall for the charade, to fall right into her trap, so she can embarrass him. He’ll play her game. But he’ll win. 

“Take off your shirt,” he says, his voice dropping, the gravelly tone giving him away. Her eyes darken, and her fingers lift to brush the hem of her shirt. His stomach lifts and flips, but falls when he smells the alcohol on her breath. She’s only doing this because she’s drunk. 

“C’mon, JJ” she says, her voice thick and low and sultry. His name in that tone, from her mouth -- it almost hurts to hear, knowing she doesn’t mean it. “Pick up lines only work on me when I’m drunk.” 

“I thought you were drunk,” JJ answers, the words falling out of his mouth. Then, he kicks himself. 

“Oh shit,” Kiara says, a grin taking over her face. Before he can say anything else, she’s pulling her shirt over her head. “I guess I am.” 

cross-posted on ao3

#we love an ambiguous ending #jiara #jiara fic #obx fic #obx #outer banks

[sassyfrassboss]

Royals At War  Part 5 Chapters 1&2

I am going to do this one a little differently. Each part has different chapters so I am going to do a breakdown on each chapter.  Here are two chapters out of seven. I will try and post three-four chapters tomorrow.

Part Five

When Harry Met Meghan:

First date was June 29, 2016.

The friend that set up the blind date is apparently Violet von Westerholz whose father is Baron von Westerholz, an old friend of Prince Charles.

Apparently after the first date, Harry & Meghan met up each day until she left on July 5th.

He still dated other women, model Sarah Ann Maclin.

Apparently up until Meghan met Harry, her father would fly up to Toronto and visit her every two months.

Meghan’s old friend Ninaki Priddy fell out over the way Meghan treated her ex-husband Trevor. Some of Meghan’s supporters tried to imply that Ninaki and Trevor had an affair but there was no proof.

This is not a Game:

Apparently Meghan was on her guard when she met members of the Royal Family because she had heard of many of them being racist and that they looked down on Americans. The authors bring up the brooch that Princess Michael of Kent wore which apparently Meghan noticed but her and Harry diplomatically decided not to say anything.

Kate had dealt with her fair share of sly digs and snide remarks from William’s posh set of friends. They would be nice to her face but vicious behind her back. They took delight in making fun of Kate’s parents and their working class background, “Doors to Manual” was often coughed in relation to Kate’s parents past of working for British Airways.

Camilla was said to have looked down on Kate’s family and was behind the 2017 spilt with William. She pushed Charles to speak with William about making a decision.

When Meghan was introduced to the posh set, Kate kept her mouth shut but the same couldn’t be said for her friends. The set of friends quickly made fun of the “Brash, attention-soaking American.” Rumors were that Kate’s friends would host viewing parties of Meghan’s show Suits and her Hallmark Channel movies. At social events with the posh crowd, some would even go so far as to repeat Meghan’s cheesy lines back to her.

Kate met Meghan at home with Charlotte over tea and snacks. Harry was there. Meghan smiled a lot and talked about her charity work, the meeting was said to have been a success given Kate’s nerves about meeting Meghan in regards to what she had read about the American.

The Royals were concerned over the relationship. They felt that Meghan would be hard to control and would not be cowed by the royal institution. Eyebrows were raised after she had accepted Harry’s invitation to visit Botswana only after their third meeting. Kate was said to exclaim “Harry’s in Botswana?” She was AGHAST at the unseemly speed of the relationship. Her thoughts were in aligned with her husband’s who also sense impending disaster looming.

Kate warned Harry that he needed to proceed with caution. She reminded him that Meghan had an entirely different past and lifestyle and career, and that it would take time and attention for their two vastly different lives to mesh well. Prince Phillip said that you don’t marry an actress, while the Queen kept silent but kept a VERY close eye on the antics of Harry & Meghan.

A lot of people in the family objected to the relationship. Many different concerns but Harry stood up for Meghan very forcibly.

At the end of 2016 following William’s first meeting with Meghan, William warned Harry that they didn’t know enough about Meghan nor her intentions or background. Harry went “MENTAL” and accused William of trying to destroy his relationship. Other senior royals had expressed their concerns which only angered Harry more.

Harry’s fury was ignited when William quietly cautioned him about the speed of the relationship. William stressed that becoming a member of the family is a vast undertaking and asked Harry if she was the right one to take on that type of scrutiny.

When Harry was on his tour of Barbados, Guyana, and Antigua Meghan would Skype with him every night for daily progress reports of his trip.

When Meghan was spotted with the M & H necklace December 2016, Kate’s friends had a field day. It was a tacky gesture that they couldn’t stop laughing over.

Harry instructed her to close her Tig account in April 2017. By this point in their relationship Harry had become accustomed to her temper. He would cautiously approach her over matters, afraid of her reactions. Meghan was IRATE having to close down her blog, but decided to pick her battles. She soon realized that Harry was intimated by her and her anger. She was fuming over closing down her blog which she considered her brand that she had work 3 years on.

She was told that it was custom that people bring a plus one to weddings so when she wasn’t invited to Pippa Middleton’s wedding ceremony but only the reception she was baffled. She got over the “snub” and figured it was a weird British thing. Apparently the Palace had to explain that she just wasn’t invited because she was dating Harry. She felt that maybe it had something to do with her. (This is found funny because she is so egotistical that instead of thinking that maybe the bride and groom would rather have people they know at their wedding she makes it all about herself.)

Harry made a HUGE fuss about her not being invited to the wedding. Apparently her presence was essential for him so he made a round trip to bring her back for the reception. She was sat at another table and barely spent time with Harry the entire night.

To her face people were nice but she was aware that her every move was being judged. In these upper elite British circles being a rule breaker is frowned upon and Meghan was being viewed harshly. Also, people felt that she wasn’t suitable for Harry, she didn’t have the right background nor pedigree.

When the engagement rumors started, Meghan was aware Harry was going to propose and Meghan started to make Harry aware of the power their relationship held. When they were to announce their engagement, it would yield tons of press so why not make the public wait and stir them into a frenzy in the process. Meghan was aware of the enormous power their relationship held and she knew if she manipulated it her way, there would be no limit to what she could do. Meghan LOVED the attention whereas Harry loathed the press intrusion.

Meghan knew that the time to capitalize on her unprecedented fame would be right before the engagement announcement. Therefore she arranged for the Vanity Fair cover. She never would have had the chance without her connected to Harry. Normally women in her position on the verge of marrying a prince would keep their mouths shut but Meghan was grasping at the chance for more coverage. In the interview Meghan said “Nothing about me changed. I’m still the same person that I am, and I’ve never defined myself by my relationship.” This line raised alarm bells back in the Palaces in England. Courtiers were in shock as the read the article and knew that more drama was imminent. The cover photo showed Meghan in a provocative pose suggesting she was naked. The headline “She’s Just Wild About Harry” caused an intake of breath and the photos in the spread were not photos that a potential Princess of the UK should be posed in or not clothed in.

Copied of the magazine were banned in the Palace and effort was made to make sure the Queen never saw it.

Charles called Harry. It was a very stern call where Charles expressed how unbecoming the magazine was and that it was the wrong thing for Meghan to do. It was at this point that Charles and others realized Harry had no control over Meghan. Charles also felt that Harry was secretly enjoying the chaos that Meghan was creating, knowing that the palace would have a hard time controlling her and that she would put up a fight when it came to royal protocols.

Some sources said that Meghan wanted to announce the engagement news in the Vanity Fair article but Harry talked her out of it. The damage had been done and she had already irked the Royals. People were questioning who exactly the article benefitted and what it was to achieve.

Meghan was upset that she wasn’t allowed to sit with Harry during the opening ceremony of the Invictus Games in Toronto 2017. She was put out that Harry couldn’t get her into the VIP box.

Christmas 2017 Harry had compiled a video of Meghan in her role on Suits to show to his grandparents. It was said to allow her the chance to attend Christmas with the family which until that point hadn’t been allowed.

[hajimine]

hi bb congrats on your milestone❤️ could i have a matchup? my love language is quality time and i would prefer a male matchup! and i sent my face in another ask! thank youuu💗💗

👼🏻 tlks; ahhh you’re so priddy i love the blonde streaks in your hair & your nose piercing!!!

i think you’ll look good with... FUTAKUCHI KENJI !

▹ 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐛𝐲 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐕

•°. * futakuchi loves going cafe-hopping with you. he would never admit it, always trying to pretend like he doesn’t wanna do it, but you can see the sparkle in his eyes when you ask him out on another culinary date around the city. he especially loves when you feed him some of your cakes, and he doesn’t even mind that you take so long to take aesthetically pleasing pictures of your coffee—because that just means he can admire your pretty smile a little while longer.

#— 👼🏻 head cupid lex! #killakatsuki

[spindaonateaspoon]

Yo there! Oh all those spindas in the background are making me dizzy haha (one of my fave pokemon actually, love them). Okay, sooo that's pretty random ask but what are your top ten black clover characters? :D

Ah, a tumblr user of taste, I see. Glad you could get past the vertigo to send me an ask, I really appreciate it! Next time you can save your eyes a little stress and ask my interest blog @thespiralgrimoire instead!

Top 10 Favorite Black Clover Characters

1. Nozel Silva

There are a lot of reasons I absolutely adore this unhinged bedazzled train wreck of a man. I thought my love for him couldn’t swell any bigger when I watched the anime, and then I started reading the manga, and he only gets better.

First and foremost, he’s pretty. In an extremely conventional way, but hey, it’s conventional for a reason. Even with his stupid hair, he’s just nice to look at. This is despite the fact that he literally never smiles, which is usually an important feature to appearances to me. But coming back to the braid thing, he KNOWS it’s stupid, and you know  he knows it’s stupid, because he literally threatens the lives of people who criticize it. The boy made a bad aesthetic decision once when he was like 19 and said, “Oh shit. If I don’t own this, I will never live this down. It’s time to do or die.” And he owned it. He is doomed to look this stupid for the rest of his life or face an endless assault of naysayers. His pride will not allow it.

Which brings me to the next thing I love about him: He’s such an arrogant twat. Everything about Nozel screams “I’m better than you, and if you disagree with me, I will throw myself on the floor and cry.” He will not allow anyone to even entertain the idea that he’s not perfect. Even himself. Even when it’s glaringly obvious that he’s a hot mess. During the star festival, when he hears that the black bulls came in second, He Mcfreakin loses it. He gets so mad that when he can’t make Yami feel ashamed for being himself, he literally STOMPS OUT OF THE FESTIVAL.  It’s chapter 104. Look it up. I’m not exaggerating.

Finally, I’m a slut for siblings, and the Silva Squad is an endless goldmine. That dynamic is what gets me through the day. I could live off sibling dynamics. Nebra and Solid worship the ground he walks on, and Noelle can’t help but look up to him, even if he’s been a huge douchenozzel to her her entire life. At this point it’s all conjecture for how that relationship will develop, but got damn, I’m in this for the long hall.

2. Fuegoleon Vermillion

Again, this man is so pretty. They really got their royal aesthetics right in this show. I am a simple person, with simple desires, and pretty men that I can make fun of is about all I need to be happy.

That being said, Fuegoleon is a nice guy. Despite having every reason to have the Higher Than Thou attitude that Nozel has, he’s respectful of everyone. This, charmingly, extends to how he treats people for better or worse. My home boy ain’t walking around pretending everyone is deserving of hand holding and forgiveness. He’s beating everyone over the head when they do something stupid. NO ONE is immune to a Teachable Moment.

Which is probably the funniest thing about him. This man is incapable of not teaching. The entire city is being overrun by zombies and he stops in the middle of defending citizens to give Noelle a pep talk and magic lesson??? Bro. Time and place, my dude. I love you.

Actually the funniest thing about him is that despite obviously being the most reserved of the Vermillions, this guy has no chill. If he’s not screaming passionately about something that someone needs to learn, he’s squaring up. He has no off switch. Sure, he’s not running around with his fists up like Meoroleona and Leopold, but if you think he’s going to be any slower to throw a punch than they are then you and I are watching different anime. He may canonically be the most intelligent of the captains, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not a meathead. And I think that’s beautiful.

Okay the ranks get harder after this because these two are so easily my favorite LOL

3. Meoroleona Vermillion

I could say a lot of things about Meoroleona, but to save some space, I’m going to refer you to #2, and also show you my favorite character from Steven Universe. You do the math.

4. and 5. Nebra and Solid Silva

These two are such bitches. At this point in the series, they only exist to a) be Nozel’s hype men and b) be the bane of Noelle’s existence, and as a writer, I respect that. There’s not a lot to them in canon, but that hasn’t stopped me from designing their entire lives and backstory. I love them so much; not only for what I’ve made them out to be, but for where they could go as characters. We’ve already seen this a little bit with their asses being handed to them in fights, and I just hope that their asses continue to get handed to them until they come around to have some respect for anyone but each other and themselves. In the meantime I’ll continue developing their personalities on an interpersonal level.

Okay I’m not done. The REAL reason these guys made 4th and 5th is because, like I mentioned before, I am a slut for sibling relationships. Black Clover does them s o well. Even with the little we’ve seen, it’s so easy to tell that their love for Nozel and each other is so deep and sincere... even if it might be just a tad bit dysfunctional. There’s so much ground to cover with how the death of their mother affected them and pushed them closer together. But I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t have been super close had she stayed alive. You can just tell in everything they do that they live for each other. They’re EVERYTHING to each other. You get the impression that these two probably don’t really know how to be people separate from their siblings, because all they’ve ever had is each other. It’s such a great dynamic to grow and explore and if we don’t get more Silva interaction in the future I’m gonna throw a fit.

6. Ladros

Okay this is the point where this list starts getting a little wonky because I like almost everyone else in the series just about the same but---

I have feelings about Ladros Ladros. I don’t even know what it is about him. His design is impeccable. Every time I see him I want to scream. What emotion does he instill in me? Love? Hate? Lust? Disgust? I really don’t know. I just know that there’s a lot of it. Look at his little black eyes. Look at his smile. His hair. His barrel chest that doesn’t fit his twink face. What a man. I sure do feel about him.

Also, he’s my preferred brand of Little Shit.

7. Zora Ideale

Everything that applies to Ladros applies to Zora in exactly the same way. Priddy and meen. At least his face fits his body.

8. Finral Roulacase

He’s such a sweetheart, and I like his new haircut. I wish he was real so he could be my friend. And I cannot stress this enough: I feel that way about NO ONE else on this list. The rest of these assholes are better off fictional, but the world needs more Finrals.

9. Henry Legolant

Unlike every other character on this list, I actually don’t think that Henry’s design is all that pretty. What I love about Henry is that his whole personality is “My fragile heart is overflowing with love and care for all my friends... and if you so much as think about hurting them, I will pound your bones to dust.” And he follows through. King.

10. Dorothy Unsworth

There is no way that glitzy baby doll Dorothy wasn’t going to end up on this list BEFORE I found out that she and Nozel have feelings jams in Glamor World. Once we see more of her I’m sure she’ll fly up the list.

So, there you go! Thank you so much for the ask! This was really a struggle to put together after #5, but I had a great time doing it.

#spinda tea #black clover #reblogged to thespiralgrimoire #if you want to see my mumbling in the tags read it there

[corpsebasil]

So in all my years of living I haven’t had a favorite movie bc how could u possibly just have one favorite movie but after seeing Little Women oof how that’s changed. I’m a part of a bunch of fandoms and I’m priddy often up to date on movies but man how Liddle Women was oerfect and I’m living for your Little March series while I go through withdrawal

I’d like to think he (Tim) was the main recent it’s my favorite but it’s mostly because I see so much of myself with Jo. I actually saw the original movie the night before and was skeptical but fell in love, and I couldn’t keep a smile (or tears HAHA) off my face when I watched the new version in the theater.

Obviously I’m a writer as Jo is, and a feminist, and seeing someone so like myself go through pain of losing a sister (something I can relate to) and have people reject her writing (also relatable) it was something ive seriously never felt before watching a film.

Sorrry for the rant lmao but there’s definitely going to be a lot of content coming from me you can bet

#little women spoilers #little women thoughts

[americanroyalwatcher]

Why we love Kate, not Meghan

I’ve been seeing the “If you love her (Catherine) you don’t need to hate her (Meghan)” meme going around on IG. I had to clear things up for myself and anybody this resonates once and for all. Let me first start off by saying my feelings for Meghan Markle are not of hate. I find her and Catherine beautiful in their own respective ways. I only abhor Meghan’s behavior, actions, total disrespect for the Royal Family hierarchy, trying to curry favor with the public through her PR attempts, and blatant sense of entitlement.

We are only typing words online making it difficult to decipher a tone of voice. Since there is none to be heard or facial expressions detected, you can take it much more worse, dramatic, and catty than it really is. I try to write as clearly as I can to convey my meanings as fast I can churn it out for everyone to read. I do it so my opinions are not misunderstood to be of jealousy, hating, bullying, or racism. I feel I have to restate this as I’ve gained many new followers and likely new spies or just plain curious folks. It would be truly wonderful to meet everyone I interact with online, follower, spy, or passersby. That human interaction is missing from this very anti-social media platform.

So, let me say I am none of those four things above. In fact, I was quite enthusiastic initially with Meghan Markle’s debut into the royal scene. She of course is a far cry from the typical posh British blondes Harry dated. It was refreshing and new. She was a Californian, ethnic, and American just like me, who came from a disjointed family. She was a breath of fresh air as a new addition, but that quickly turned into mush when that engagement interview revealed her domineering, controlling, and insincere personality with the camera. I took her saying she didn’t know THAT MUCH about Price Harry, not that she didn’t know him or the royal family. This is often restated incorrectly. Her statement during the interview came off as if Prince Harry’s royal-ness wasn’t a big deal to her. That they’re equally on the same plane and their names hold the same weight as far as that statement went. That initial interview showed her ego on display and the Vanity Fair magazine she interviewed for as a tell all after it was revealed she was Harry’s girlfriend. Shortly before that, in November 2016, she had Harry write a foolish statement asking the public to leave her alone after she made a false report of someone breaking into her Toronto home. Then she goes on to do that Vanity Fair magazine. The hypocrisy. Harry could never turn back after that. It was more binding than a wedding if you ask me.

Even her ex-best friend Ninaka Priddy told DailyMail, “I know the Royal Family was something she found fascinating. She had one of Princess Diana’s books [Diana: Her True Story] on her bookshelf, and even when she was with Trevor she told me she wanted to go and stay in London for at least a month. I can’t remember exactly when this was, but she was married to Trevor and starring in Suits. She mentioned about wanting to go to London a couple of times. I wasn’t shocked or even surprised to hear about Prince Harry. I know she used to love The Princess Diaries — films about a commoner who becomes part of a Royal Family. She was very taken with that idea.”

Meghan would relish the thought of living a real life Princess Diaries scenario. Everyone in her family circle knew she was infatuated with the idea of being a modern day princess with power. She admired Princess She-Ra. In her defunct Tig blog she wrote, “I, for one, was all about She-Ra, Princess of Power. And grown women seem to retain this childhood fantasy. Just look at the pomp and circumstance surrounding the royal wedding and endless conversation about Princess Kate.”

That was a huge red flag to me. Her best friend knew her since she was 11 and they were inseparable like sisters, like family. So, I take her words seriously as to who Meghan really was. She stopped talking to her after three seasons of Suits. Fame got to her head. She left her then husband Trevor, who helped her get on the show. She was out for a more “empowering” position in life. She used who and what she could to get where she is today. She downplayed her knowledge and awareness of the royal family big time and it really came back to bite her.

Meghan had her sights set on expanding her name and fame somehow someway since Suits was wrapping up with her supporting role being axed soon. Unhappily, her marriage to Trevor Engelson ended abruptly by her (mailing her rings back my mail), after almost 10 years of supposed true happiness finding The One. According to her ex-best friend she knew since she was 11 years old. She left him for Corey Vitiello, a highly celebrated chef in Toronto after her career took off some with Suits. Corey was also cooking for Prince Harry when Meghan first met the royal. He runs a chicken restaurant chain called Flock. Roast chicken, anyone? Yes, Meghan has commented time and time again her specialty is roast chicken. She picked up this talent likely from living in common law marriage with Corey in Toronto. That’s also what she was cooking when Prince Harry proposed? Gosh, what a coincidence. The Sun said, “The pair split in May 2016 - with the Telegraph reporting that Meghan was still with Cory when she first met Harry. The prince was in Canada to promote the Invictus games in May 2016. The chef refused to comment on the rumours that the Prince was part of the reason their relationship ended.” Hmmm, also a suspicious coincidence.

I don’t knock her for watching out for herself and trying to put her name out there. It’s a dog-eat-dog world in the acting industry. She was only successful in Toronto with Suits. Hollywood was the ultimate goal and dream. Her father Thomas Markle was a successful Emmy winning lighting director for Married with Children. She basically grew up on set and likely salivated at the fame and attention she would get being one. As a narcissist, this would feed her ego majorly. She was never going to be more famous than an extra in those random comedies or low-budget made for TV movies. She was pushing nearly 40. That’s the career death age of actresses in North America, maybe everywhere. She wasn’t a Meryl Streep or Viola Davis. She had to think fast. She did. Man, did she hit the jackpot with Harry. Apparently, their relationship wasn’t even revealed to Harry’s family until 6 months into it. All that time, Thomas Markle kept his mouth shut about it. He was loyal to his favorite daughter and paid for her expensive upscale schooling her entire life, even some in college. She ghosted him for making a foolish mistake with the media when he didn’t recieve an invite to the wedding. This time period was key to her sinking her claws in to Prince Harry’s vulnerability, weaknesses, broken and damaged self. She does want to be another Diana, but all she is now is a mother-wife to Harry. As her ghosted former best friend said, she is very calculated.

Using others as a stepping stone or tool to get where you want is extremely cold-hearted, but that was her MO. There is a reason a trail of ghosted, dejected lovers, family and friends have come out of the woodwork since Harry said his family was the one she never had. HAH. Cry me a river. Samantha only came out when that was openly said. What a stupid, hurtful, foolish statement Harry. This was during the Christmas Service at Sandringham she attended when they were only engaged. That’s unheard of. Even Catherine Middleton, wife of the heir didn’t even get invited to any outings until they were officially married. I commend Prince William for his caution as he had much more to lose than Harry with his choice of a wife.

Prince William was extremely worried about the tabloids and press doing what they did to his beloved mother to Kate. They chased Kate around and staked out their cameras at her flat. They followed her to work. They shoved cameras in her face getting in and out of cars. She was very chill about it. Alarmed, but civil. It was chaos. She was a BIG DEAL. She was marrying the heir to the British monarchy. Prince William was a dreamboat. Many of us were very fascinated by who his choice was. When they married, there were years and years of ridicule with comments about her “Waity Katey” nickname. He made sure she has as much time living a normal private life before becoming a royal. She needed to withstand the public scrutiny as his on and off again girlfriend first. It wasn’t a matter of him getting coldfeet. He was protecting her. They were college friends first then fell in love over the course of 6 years or so. They had a solid foundation.

She even had a few incidents where her skirt flew up too high revealing too much as well as her chest. It’s all trivial superficial things, I know, but it matters as a royal. We do the same with Meghan. It’s the optics that need to be taken into consideration. I’m fine with critiquing dress style, as there’s a certain decorum needed in a royal family. She, Kate, needed to dress more prudently to avoid mishaps. There were several in her first few years. She has improved beautifully and has her style down to science. Kate had many of the criticisms Meghan shares as far as entering in the royal family goes being a commoner having to do with dress code and keeping her mannerisms appropriate at events. There are many comments on old articles saying how Kate was smiling way too much at this same event years ago. How her hair was too long. She needed to stop twirling it and have some respect for her role and the dignity of the event. It was the Remembrance Day Sunday event at Whitehall in 2013. The two years before that, she garnered the same scathing reactions from the public.

Kate has really come into her own despite the awful criticisms and judgement on her class. She has bore the years and years of cruel digs to her with great decorum and stride. She has NEVER COMPLAINED. She has come in to her own identity as a mother, wife, future queen consort, charity patron, and most importantly a genuine person with the public. I quote The Sun highlighting past labels calling her a "work-shy social climber, the lucky girl whose sole job in life was to sit around looking pretty until William proposed." That's all turned into something solid and magical.

She has an ease with others that makes them comfortable in her presence you don't expect from such a senior royal. She has bloomed. We love her for that and how she lets Prince William shine by supporting his role as heir through their duties and appearances together. She also shines equally if not more than Prince William. Her children are absolutely gorgeous and a delight. We have all come to adore her because she has earned it. Yes, with the public you have to earn our love.

With Meghan, it seemed as if they were marrying then having a baby at warp speed before Harry decided to change his mind without knowing her family and past. They weren’t allowing the public to let us see Meghan in a positive gradual light, but a social climbing one with all her past history written online for all to see; also through the testimony of friends, families, her attention-seeking Instagram posts, colleagues etc. She hadn’t proved herself worthy yet to the public like Kate. It was hitting the ground running to be her own brand and name through Harry’s family.

On a superficial level, Kate and Meghan are not fashionistas or supermodels. But they are always photographed with what brands they’re wearing for all to see. That’s the fun part of watching all royal women, their outfits and accessories. But with Meghan it goes PAST and BEYOND outfits and style. It’s an entire plethora of reasons. She’s a whole different “beast” as she likened her unfair treatment in that Africa interview. All that have nothing to do with her ethnicity. The criticisms we non-Markle fans share with her are as followed:

• ghosting those friends and family members she used to put a notch on her belt

• using Princess Diana’s name to beautify her tainted image

• using Harry and his weaknesses to crawl her way into the royal family

• portraying such an affected manner in which she speaks, interactions with others, and overall pretending to be royal instead of being herself

• wearing inappropriate revealing attire to events, not adhering to dress code

• being rude and demanding to royal staff and even film and restaurant workers before marrying Harry

• constantly stepping in front of Harry as if he was the non-royal at events, inserting herself in conversations and trying to be the center of attention, a know-it-all

• making herself out to be a self made millionaire when she was more like a thousand-aire after Suits owning no real estate, cars or possessions to note beside an expensive heel collection

• taking credit for things that she did not do entirely on her own but passing it off that she did

• upsetting Duchess of Cambridge who she should have allied with for assimilation

• planting her PR stories to try and break up the image and marriage that the Cambridges have naturally built

• constantly trying to one-up the Cambridges while they go about their duties, her seething envy is quite evident by trying to take the light away from their causes

• inconsistent stories of how she and Harry met, supposedly it's Misha Nonoo, but who knows

• implying she was pregnant, all but announcing it with that navy blue coat halfway open at Princess Eugenie's wedding

• overly flicking her coat open constantly and prancing around with her hand on her ever changing bump (whether real or not we will never know)

• embellishing her character by feeding us accolades of herself every chance she gets, especially on Sussex Royal

• rarely ever using the titles of more important senior royals, but overusing her HRH on herself

• having famous Hollywood friends constantly speak for her and how amazing she is, many whom she had NEVER met prior to marrying Harry, but invited to the wedding anyway; leaving out her own family members (especially her loving father who made a foolish mistake) on both sides who did nothing to warrant such cold-heartedness

• preaching about carbon footprints, only having two children, and saving the environment all the while jetting around in private jets around the world sparing no expense

• portraying this image of a humanitarian when she herself is seen constantly in astronomically priced bespoke, couture, and designer clothes and accessories that taxpayers find (well over a million now dollars as the 6th in line’s wide); paid or not by designers to advertise for them

According to The Star, “It’s a figure so staggering it’s worth revisiting. According to estimates — based on totalling up the approximated or stated retail values of everything she’s been seen wearing since November 2017 — the number is hovering around the $1.5 million mark. On her and Harry’s official visit to Ireland this spring, for instance, Markle wore over $52,000 worth of fashion in just two days.”

They also stated “The majority of Markle’s expenditure this year went toward her two wedding dresses: That Givenchy ceremony dress is thought to have cost around $330,000 and her Stella McCartney dress (or the capsule collection’s 46 replicas released after the wedding, at least) sold for $5,800. That’s a bargain compared to the $93,000 she spent on the Ralph & Russo frock she wore for some of her engagement shoot. Add in a $6,500 Oscar de la Renta dress to a wedding here, a $5,000 bespoke Carolina Herrera frock to a Trooping the Colour there, and well, you get to that million mark pretty quickly.”

• then there’s the vacant Forgmore Cottage that wasted taxpayers money if $3 million to renovate; apparently they don’t even live there as she’s in SoHo accommodations and he in his Nottingham Cottage

• playing media games with the facts and dates surrounding the birth of Archie and never allowing him to be photographed until it was on African soil for a docu-drama

• pleading for privacy over and over then showing up unannounced at events uninvited,

• filming a tone-deaf tactless documentary in Africa, revealing how she felt she's didn't have a fair shake in the royal family, the absolute nerve of she and Harry

• suing the press for racism and hate stories when she herself courts the press daily (she did pap walks in London right before it was announced she was Harry's girlfriend), when she has herself and Harry to thank for all the negative press as there's not one story pointing out criticism of her ethnic background

• lastly, there are the extreme fans called the “sugars” who go around defending MM every chance they get in a rageful manner like packs of rabid dogs if we comment on how we don’t like her style of dress or try to reason with a differing opinion to theirs on a certain news story

Have I missed anything? Likely so. I’m still new to this whole Markle debacle so excuse my errors and typos. The soap opera does go on and there are so many details and shady ways Meghan has portrayed herself past and present. From what I’ve seen, heard, and read from her own mouth and those who knew her well, “she’s a witch” as Candace Owens put it bluntly. I truly wanted to give the benefit of the doubt to her when she kept shooting herself in the foot.

She is NOT where Kate was when she married Prince William either. Kate was 29, unmarried and very close to her family with no previous marriages. Today, her family appear to be her rock solid support outside of Prince William. She assimilated well with the other royals who she now calls family. She listened to counsel, respected the centuries of tradition the monarchy had always followed. She won our hearts. Through and through, she can credit her great inner strength she possessed to overcome the constant ridicule to become the well loved future queen consort of Britain. That is no easy feat.

Meghan was 37 and many times divorced (one annulled with Joe Giuliano, an attorney she married after college), so maybe three if you count the common law marriage with Cory in Canada. Trevor was her first official one. So Harry may be her 4th! She had lived many lives before with connections to SoHo, being a yacht girl, then there are her ties to the wretches Jeffery Epstein, Hillary Clinton, Weinstein and their global agenda machine I would have to write a dissertation on to explain.

She appeared to have used her first official husband Trevor, a successful producer in his own right (she got a cameo in his film Remember Me with Robert Pattinson) to get her role on Suits as he’s done excellent for himself in the film industry as a producer. Meghan was somewhat popular in Toronto from the supporting role. She was being phased out soon after her relationship with Corey started as well. She needed a plan, along came Prince Harry one fine clucking night. Then, she set her sights on getting setup with him by Markus Anderson or Misha Nonoo; who knows with all these conflicting stories.

I said good for her at the start. At first it was incredible to see an ordinary girl from LA had married into such a high profile family, to a real titled Prince, no less! It was inspiring and fun to fantasize. Nevertheless, Meghan’s actions listed above, the various first-hand testimonies of people who were family and friends pre-Harry, her hellbent PR attempts to heighten her name, her lack of honesty, her contrived behavior pretending to be a coy ingenue, the scary desire to be Princess Diana by hunting Harry like a sport, and all the stories coming out about how she was searching for a famous British man to elevate her profile, and likely so much more to come, are why we are here with these accounts today.

Hate is such a blanket word overused nowadays in the media. But she has earned that word all on her own. We’re here to disprove and retort the stories churned out daily by her team Sunshine Sachs that continue to deceive the public. Everything is out there to see. Her character is out there to decipher online. You just have to stop reading the fluff and self-promotion and find her true nature pre-Harry to see her scheming social climbing insincere self-serving ways. So, please don’t make us out to be hating, racist, jealous, bullies because we don’t love her like we do Kate. Move past that because we’re tired of hearing it. There’s no other argument anymore for her sugars it seems. Excuse me for not buying Meghan’s pseudo feminism and humanitarian image. She is far from that of a humanitarian. Everything is written on the wall for her. She only has herself to thank for it.

[yongieee]

lil things i (and everyone should) love about do kyungsoo

• i always think of his smile first but can u blame me? ksoos is adorable:(( the way his cheeks lift up n u see his liddol teeth n the heart shaped lips ughhh😣😣

• more specifically when he gets complimented n he gets really shy n looks down shaking his head n waves his hands in front of him with that trademark smile on his face hes a babie😔

• the way he always cuffs his trousers at di bottom bc hes smol n he knows it (like me hehe)

• his casual american dad fashion in general more specifically his endless collection of jeans n corduroy trousers n chequered shirts n also his lil leather lace up shoes n that brown leather rucksack he takes EVERYWHERE (altho he legit wears the same black tee n nike joggers every day now fkdkdkd)

• his 'huh huh huh' laff n the fact he claps or slaps his thigh when he finds something really funny djdjdjdj

• the countless number of moles on his face n upper body they're all so priddy (tho my fave has to be the faint one on his upper lip)

• how his priority in any situation is always to find good food fkdjdjdjd

• when he clumsily pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.. that shit hurted

• also how he squints even with em on kddkdjd go get another eye test bby

• when hes trying new food he ALWAYS has to smell it first... appreciate the aroma.. feed the senses dkdkfkkfk

• how his left eyebrow is thicker than the right one n how they're both bushy af hehe

• how although he's not the most forward with showing affection and things like that, those big eyes of his give all his love n happiness away:(

• even tho he DESPISES being cute whenever hes asked to do aegyo he eventually gives in and does it oh so well kdnxnxnx

• his drive to work hard and his mindset towards constantly improving his craft whether that's in singing or acting

that's all i could think of for now fndmxjxn but theres hundreds of reasons im sure (feel free to add to this id love to hear everyones cute lil things they've noticed about him😭)

hes such a wonderful admirable person and i only wish him the best both in the next two years n for years to come!💕💕

#exo #squish #my post #i was intending to post this for his bday but then it passed n i forgot about this fndkckmcmd #but it seems apt to post it now since emotions are running high n we're all caught up in all the commotion of him going and :(((((( #i just love him so much n im aware this post is fucking cheesy but i mean blame him🚶🏽‍♀️🚶🏽‍♀️ #anyways im embarrassed im gonna post this and go ndmxmcmxm

[horrible-on-main]

“Tassy!” Lyrica calls, waving eagerly across the nursery floor. “Tassy, look!” She’s taken well to classes, but she’s always happiest when released back amongst the other children. Tacitus’ nurse looks up with a smile for the little girl as she skips across the room. She has a wide map of the galaxy bundled up in her arms, but it’s discarded as she reaches her little cousin.

She wraps her arms around the toddler tightly and lifts him up, staggering with his weight. Her grip is clumsy, but he clings on with arms and legs. Both are giggling. She stumbles a couple of steps backwards, struggling, then sits down hard and topples over backwards with her cousin on top. They roll apart, shrieking with laughter.

“Lila,” Tacitus squawks, “Lila drop me!” Both find this killingly funny. “I didn’t on purpose,” Lyrica protests between gasps of laughter. “You’re heavy, Tassy!” “Drop me!” Tacitus complains again, putting one hand over his mouth in a crude, wide-eyed imitation of shock, then falls about shrieking. “Quietly, children,” the nurse laughs, “Shhhh. Not so loud!” They do try to quiet down, but bursts of noisy giggling keep escaping both. “Shhhh,” Tacitus shushes his cousin with a serious expression, causing her to break out laughing again. “Shhhh!”

“Did you have something to show Tacitus, Lyrica?” “Yes!” she remembers delightedly, grabbing the map. She spreads it out on the floor carefully, crawling about and smoothing the wrinkles out of the fabric. It’s tough enough to survive the irreverent handling of children, but she treats it with care. Tacitus coos curiously over the bright colours. “Look, Tacitus. Lyrica brought us a map. What a pretty map!” “Priddy,” Tacitus agrees. “Look! The whole galaxy,” Lyrica declares proudly. “All the stars forever in a biiiig spiral!” She gestures with her hands. “Here’s the core. And here’s Terra. And here’s the Eye. And all the sectors. And look, here’s us!”

#drabble #child tacitus #child tacitus drabble #teeny tiny navigators

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 17

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.  Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

                                                        ***

      I held her hand on the way out.  Despite every outer wall of the place being mostly glass, it was much darker inside than out.  The sun hurt our eyes and we put on cheap sunglasses.  The city was bright and cold, like it often was in the morning.  It looked generally clean, but a few scraps torn paper and other trash twirled in the wind like flakes in a fishbowl.

      “Breakfast sucked, didn’t it?”

      “Yeah,” she said.

      “We could get something to eat before we get on that bus.  This place over here has mondo cinnamon rolls with this thick, rich frosting.  Probably enough food for a week if you pace yourself, heh.”  I gestured to a chichi breakfast place that catered to fancy business people.  The gilt and tinted glass face made the patrons look like they were wading through dark beer.

       “No, they’ll tell us to leave.”

       I considered protesting.  I’d been there several times before.  But in my reflection, I saw that poverty and misfortune had taken a toll on my presentation.  Maybe we would catch grief.  I turned away and we kept walking.  “There’s a Subway tucked into the grubby basement level of a less fancy building a block over.  One time I ordered a BLT there but didn’t bother to specify the toppings, and the lady gave me a piece of bread with nothing but bacon on it.  C’mon.”

      “Heyheyhey yeah, wassup girls?”  A familiar raspy voice assaulted us from an alley.  We both turned to face him, sure we were about to get physically assaulted as well.  It was Walter, still tugging up his dingy trunks from a bit of public urination.

      But the strangest thing was his expression - none of the drama of the incident that sent everybody to the police station, just the pervy simmering he’d give to any sexy stranger.  “Just wanted to say, like, dyamn.  Just checkin’ your form.  Ya both priddy, ya know?  I wouldn’ mind a sex sandwich.  Not that I’m gonna do nothin’ cuz I’m a gennleman an’ shit.  Unless you wanted to, cuz like...”

      As thick as his skull was, he noticed we were both paralyzed in shock, but he guessed the wrong reason.  “HEY!  I said I’m a gentleman, bitches!  Fuck you anyway.  Bitches.”  He turned away and started tromping down the alley.

      Momi went after him.  I shook in horror, mind reeling.  Was she going back to him and leaving me?  Why would I have thought that for even a second?  Was she going to confront him and get herself killed?  I was shaking like a toy on a string, unable to step forward, to speak.

      “Walter!  Walter!”  I’d never heard her voice that loud.  It was unfamiliar, high but resonant.

      He turned around with eyes half-lidded in an expression of sleazy hope, etched sloppy into a potato-like face.  “I don’t know how you know me but--”

      She stopped four feet from him, rooted to the concrete, fists at her sides.  “Why don’t you know me?  I was the only one, Walter!  I was your Momi.”

      “My mommy?”  He looked deeply confused and a little scared.

      I got back enough control to take shambolic halting steps down the alley, felt like I was too far away.  I had already figured out this was another effect of our weird state of trespass, even if I didn’t know what to make of it.  But I was surprised she was bothered.  It seemed very convenient for this monster to forget her.  Just take it and leave, baby.

      She did not.  “Lei. Mo. Mi.  You don’t own me, you don’t treat me like that and jus’ forget me!  Fuck you, Walter!”

      “‘Ey hol’ up, bitch!”

      She answered with fists.  I was shook again, paralyzed as she beat the creep.  Would he kill her?  But she had a slight advantage of reach and height.  He was punching back but couldn’t get his full power behind it, couldn’t connect with her face.

      He’d always seemed indestructible to me, like he was made out of solid leather.  Some kind of substance with no internal organs to disrupt, no fragile calcium-based bones to break.  But he reeled for a moment, stunned - evidence of a nervous system, at least.  She took advantage of the moment to throw a big punch that knocked him down.  Concrete did the rest of the job as his head bounced, and he was unconscious.  She started kicking him.

      “Leimomi!  Stop!”  I scooted my feet closer, careful not to get in range of those fists and feet, in case her rage was blind.  “We gotta get out of here before you get arrested!”

      “AUGH!” She kicked him hard one last time then stepped away, gripped a chain link fence and seethed.  “Ooh I’m so mad.  I’m so mad!”

      “It’s cool baby.  You got him!  That’s great.  We gotta--”

      She wheeled to face me, face his body.  “We gotta hide the evidence.”  She reached down and hauled his dead weight off the ground, very awkwardly.

      “No, if we just get out of here... What are you doing?”

      Momi leaned Walter against a trash compactor, pinning him there with one arm while she opened the door of it with the other.  “Get rid of the evidence!”

      “Baby, no.  He’ll get compacted!  Squished up.  That’s no way to die.”

      She looked at me sadly, still holding the dog man against the hard metal with no visible effort.  “I just want to hide him.”

      I looked to the ends of the alley frantically.  Both were wide open to the street, with cars driving by every few seconds.  No one walking by at just that moment.  “Fine, like, use the dumpster.  The dumpster!”

      She nodded in agreement and smiled as she dragged him to the dumpster.  I was glad this alley still had one.  The city had cut a deal with some weird shady contractor to do an “eco-friendly” garbage service that involved leaving proprietary bags straight on the ground for pick up, and did away with most dumpsters.  But the bags were getting torn open by rats, so the dumpsters would surely return.  They just hadn’t cut the deals for that yet, leaving most alleys a grimy mess.

      I held up the wobbly grey plastic lid and she hoisted her ex-boyfriend up and in.  One of his feet kicked her in the side of the face as he flipped inside.  I was alarmed for her, but quickly distracted by the loud sound of him hitting the bottom.  The thing was nearly empty, giving Walter’s body a five foot drop onto hard steel.  Fucker could have broken his neck just then.

      I moved to take her in my arms, pull her away, but was arrested by the eyes of a pedestrian down the way.  The man glanced at us, then kept looking.  But he didn’t stop walking until he was out of sight.  Maybe he didn’t see the legs go into the dumpster.  I imagined he’d have a more extreme reaction.  But I didn’t want to stick around to find out.  I grabbed Momi’s hand and tugged her away from the scene of the crime.

      Normally when I walked hand in hand with Leimomi our fingers would interlace.  On the way home, I was just holding her wrist or the outside of her fist.  She was too tense, too high on the violence of our misadventure.  We got up to her apartment and I walked her inside.  She started pacing the wall like a caged cougar.  I went into the kitchenette, wringing my hands, stopped at the counter to watch her go.

      “Baby, do you need to work this out on like, a punching bag?”

      “God!  I don’t know.  Maybe.  God!”  She kept stomping.

      “Hey, you could try the ottoman there.  I don’t think anyone is living downstairs still, so...”

      “OK… AUGH!”  She attacked the furniture like a crazed white boy, falling to her knees and beating on it with both fists.

      I just stood there, worrying, sweating.  At last she was done, and slumped forward over the cushion.  “Hey honey, you need some water?  I could use some water.”

      “Mmhm.”

      She didn’t move until I brought over a red cup of water, at which she just sat up, still on the floor, one arm resting on the ottoman as she accepted.  I drank a cup of my own and sat on a chair close by.

      “When you’re ready, you should take a shower.  And we can find out how bad you got beat up.”

      “I didn’t get beat up!  I beat his ass!  I beat Walter’s ass!”  She didn’t look mad at me, but she was suddenly getting ramped up again so I tried to sound soothing, take her down a notch.

      “I just mean to see, like, if there are any cuts or broken bones.  Because he did hit you a few times.”

      She crumpled up her mouth but said nothing this time, and finished her water.

      “Come on, Rocky.  Let’s hit the showers, OK?”  I walked her to the bathroom and she took off everything except her bra and panties for me.  I turned on all the lights, took a wet rag, and started prodding the livid patches on her body.  “Does this hurt?  How about here?”

      “Just a little.  It’s not that bad.”

      “It’s gonna get dark before it gets better.  Maybe all of them.  You’re gonna be a walking bruise.”

      She stepped back, folding her arms over her breasts.  “Oh no.”

      “Don’t be shy, baby.  It’s no big deal, as long as you're OK.”  I hugged her but she didn’t unfold her arms.  “You’re adorable.  Hey, I’ll let you be alone so you can take a shower, and whatever.  We’ll have fun, take it easy today, huh?”

      “I won’t be too ugly?”

      “Of course not.  It just looks sad when somebody is hurt, it doesn’t look ugly.”

      She finally unfolded her arms.  “OK,” she ran a finger on my forehead, “but you need a shower too.”

      “Do I?”  I took my shirt off, trying to do it in one slick move, but it snagged on my head wrap.  “These scarves don’t help.  Ugh.”

      She giggled and reached around, clumsily undoing my bra.  I took hers off more easily.  We were all sweaty and gross, but I was feeling almost high.  We kicked off the last of our clothes and stepped into the shower.

                                                        ***

      I gathered the ingredients for more wizard shit, which took a few days.  Knobby and Olivia were still nowhere to be found and another werewolf sighting happened.  Last time I solved the allergy problem with a potion, it was pure improvisation.  This time I had a rulebook, but felt like there should be at least some leeway for doing it my way.  I also wondered if I should be heartbroken and drunk like the first time, to make sure it worked.  I settled on drunk, drinking a few full wine bottles as I prepared my ritual components and potion.

      I saved the potion for last because it was complicated.  After preparing my little pots of olive oil, making one fancy wand with red tape and three kinds of wood,, and drinking a full bottle of wine, I considered that starting with the most complicated part would have been a better idea.

      You know when you’re wasted and you try to just focus really strongly on what you’re doing, like if you do it slow enough you are somehow going to make that line straight?  That’s how I was working.  I got the water up to a boil while putting each ingredient into a shot glass or small cup, intending to throw them all in at the end, hoping not to create something so toxic I dropped dead on the spot.

      The sulphur I had gotten in ointment form and the camphor as Vap-O-Rub from a drugstore, as well as an ammonia-based cleaner.  The “castoreum” - some kind of beaver ass gland exudate - was apparently a “natural ingredient” used in fake vanilla, so I got a bottle of that.  The opium was the most expensive ingredient by far - it would have been a bit shy of five thousand bucks - so I figured I could get away with a smaller amount if I used heroin.  I scored a hundred dollars worth with Deandre’s help which according to my math was about right.  I wasn’t about to boil a live animal but I got some dehydrated snakes and frogs from a witch store, along with some mandrake root.  To make up for the fact the snake wasn’t alive, I decided to add some of my blood to the mix.  I stole the asafoetida, some mushrooms, and St. John’s wort from an expensive grocery store and I was good to go.

     The water reached a boil and I drank deep from the wine one more time.  Part of me was convinced the only way I could do magic was by shutting off my higher brain functions.  I gripped the edge of the stove with one hand for balance and started dropping my ingredients in the pot.

      Vanilla camphor ammonia vinegar nightmare vapor hit me this way and that.  My lungs started to burn so I pulled a scarf down from my head to cover my mouth and nose.  I made sure I was nowhere near the stove and counter in case I drunkenly knocked something over, but I had forgotten why the scarf was on my head in the first place.  Reverse Courtney.

      “HOOOOooo baby!  Courtney girl, I can’t believe you thought you could get by without me.  Here you are, trying to stay where you don’t belong, I mean, do you even have a conscience?  Guess what?  It’s me.  You can’t shut me up forever.  I swear, even if all I can do is hum the words through a gag, you’re gonna hear me.  You got that bitch?”

      “Damn, that was a mouthful.  Listen, I’m only toleratin’ you because I need this… gag.  I’m borrowin’ it--”

      “HEY!  You forgot your blood.  Haha.  Try getting that in the pot in your current state.”

      “Hey yerself!” I was slurred from the scarf as much as from the vino.  “How come you’re not drunk if I’m drunk?”  I tried to remember which drawer had my silverware in it.

      “I am drunk.  I’m just very loquacious.  It’s the last one to the right, genius.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Don’t cut your hand off don’t cut your hand off don’t cut your hand off EEEEEEE I can’t look!”

      “Guh.  Fuck off.”  I held my hand over the boiling pot, put a paring knife to the skin of my palm.

      “Steady now-AAAAAA!”

      She startled me and the knife slipped.  Fortunately it was pretty dull and I only had a little cut, but it fell out of my hand into the boiling pot.  I reflexively reached in to grab it.

      If someone in a neighboring building was Hitchcock peeping on my unit, they would see a mad woman running back and forth, completely amok.  By the time I had Reverse Courtney gagged, my hand loosely wrapped in another scarf, and pulled the potion off the stove, the stuff had reduced to a fairly thick pudding.  The smell had somehow averaged out to something like vanilla mint plastic.  I just put the pot straight in the refrigerator, nearly spilling it twice.

      I finished the second bottle and went to bed, whimpering myself to sleep.

                                                        ***

      The next day I woke up to a loud manly knock at the door.  I almost screamed at the pain from my burns as I jolted out of bed to answer, but composed myself enough to receive him.  Grime.

      “What the hell do you need Graeme?  Sorry if I’m curt but I’m in some pain.”

      “Ah, it’s probably nothing but if you go in or out, be aware the pest control company is supposed to be coming and going today.  Could be trouble if we blunder into somebody at the wrong moment.”

      “Mm, yeah, thanks man.”

      He ran a red hand to the back of his neck nervously.  “How are you?  Just hung over, or..?”

      “It’s medical too.  Don’t bother yourself.  Just leave alone, if you don’t mind.”

      “You don’t have to tell me twice, Court.  Take care.”

      He left me to tend my wounds.

      I cleaned myself up very carefully.  The burns were only first degree, as horrible as they felt, and could be covered by keeping my right hand in a pocket or otherwise out of sight.  I happened to have some reasonable ointments for protecting and soothing the skin, so it didn’t take long to get myself back in order.  But as I went to check on the fruit of my magical deeds, the phone rang.

      Unfamiliar number.  “Hello?”

      “Um, is there a Courtney Marquez there?”

      “This is she.  What do you need?”

      “Yes, well, you applied for the tech position at our firm, Selman Design Group, and we liked your qualifications.  We were wondering if you could interview today?”

      I almost dropped the phone, hustled to the bathroom mirror, and tried to suss out the damage.  Could I be made presentable?

      “Hello?  Are you there?”

      “Yes.  How soon?”

      “Preferably no later than one thirty PM?”

      “I can do one thirty, thank you.”  No you can’t.

      “Sure. Putting you down for one thirty.  Thank you, Courtney.”

      “I look forward to it.”

      I did not look forward to it.

      Shortly there was another knock at my door.  Leimomi.  She was dressed in her black kimono-ish robe with her hair freshly-rebundled in tiers of scarves, and had done her makeup.

      “Momi, hon, how’s it going?”  I opened the door wide but didn’t step out of the way.

      “Mm,” she leaned in and pulled me close, “I was thinkin’ maybe you and me,” she kissed me, “could do some stuff?”

      The worst timing in the world.  I wanted her like this - ready to go, not feeling bad about herself.  Was that a bruise from where Walter accidentally kicked her?

      I kissed her back and rubbed her up and down for a moment.  Grr.  “Baby I wish I could so much, but I got too much going on.”  She was about to open her mouth to say something and I cut her off again.  “Tonight too, it suuucks.  I’m gonna try to get the exorcism going, if we can catch Knobby.”

      She stepped back and looked down miserably.  “What if we still can’t find him?”

      “Right.  If we can’t find Knobby by… ten PM, let’s get together and go fucking nuts.”  I grabbed her hands and squeezed them.  “I love you so much, Momi.  I will see you later, OK?”

      “Yeah.”

      True to Grime’s word, there were exterminator trucks in the alley, but I didn’t see any men around.  I chose to hustle past that, and set out for the job interview.  I didn’t have to worry about Walter recognizing me on a bus so the trip was less tense than usual.

      I could have a job.  We could have an out.  This could work.

      I wished I didn’t still need to wrap my head so tightly.  Unlike Leimomi, I wasn’t trying to hide every hair, and could let a crown out to accentuate my femininity.  But the scarf had to be tight over the back, so it looked goofy.  I’m no rockabilly or riveting Rosie.

      The building was one of those hundred year old three to six story brick jobs (four stories in this one) that dominated the art district.  Many had wholly renovated interiors and this was no exception.  I doubted anything remained of the original except the outermost walls and support structures.  When buzzed in, I found an interior of frosted glass walls and richly stained yellow wood floors, flawlessly waxed and shining.  The lights were blown glass UFOs on long thin poles emitting a perfectly white light.  As you passed directly beneath them you could see they achieved that with inner rings of purple and green light that somehow added up to a wholly neutral bleach glow.

      I couldn’t help but look up.  The glass walls offered nothing but a twisting gleaming corridor to weave through, the UFOs the only real feature to look at.  I must’ve looked like a babe in the woods.  One of the glass doors opened inward and a tiny woman walked out, dark brown hair in a middle part and pale skin, dressed in black, like baby Christina Ricci aged into Edith Head.  She gave me the sleepy nod of a clinically depressed person who can’t smile for politesse and walked away without a word.

      It arrested me.  Where was I going?  If I kept following that white rabbit, I’d end up in a breakroom or bathroom where I didn’t belong.  Like the apartment building where I don’t belong... What weirdness would befall me in there?

                                                        ***

   Read next chapter here.

#Rent is Theft #part 17 #nanowrimo july 2021

[i-am-avacado]

ooh okay! so jack is visiting the US and is hanging out with all the grumps one night at a bar. jack gets super fuckin drunk and cant drive himself to his hotel, so danny offers to drive him. at first jack is like a happy kinda drunk, ya know, but as danny starts driving him, jack starts acting realllly weird, like being unresponsive and really creepy and dissociated and muttering weird things to himself. then he slowly goes full Anti and danny doesnt know how to handle it. our poor boys D:

*Gasp* IT WAS ALL A RUSE!!!!! ******* "One more ov'r 'ere!" Jack didn't even process what he was doing. Before he knew it, he was waving down the bartender and demanding yet another beer. It was slid his way, and he barely caught it before it tipped and fell over the edge of the bar. He felt kind of bad, why he didn't know; but the sympathetic looks from other patrons made his ears burn, even though it was quite obvious Jack was out with friends and not alone trying to escape his responsibilities or something. He popped the lid of the bottle off and raised the lip to his mouth, already tipping his head back. Before he took a swig, though, he felt a hand take the bottle away. It wasn't stern, more friendly than anything. "Jack, dude," said a voice. Suzy. "I think....maybe you've had enough?" Jack turned his head, elbows falling on the bar. He rested his head on top of it. It felt good to put the weight of his head on something else other than his neck, which felt like it'd been slit open from all the booze he'd been chugging. He stared. Suzy smiled back, beer bottle wrapped tightly in her hands. He chuckled. "Yer priddy Suzy." Suzy shook her head, amused. "And you're drunk. Maybe you should go home? Me and Arin are about to head out anyway." Jack instinctively reached for his keys, but another voice, paired with a slap on his shoulder, stopped him. "You're in no way to drive man, I'll do it." Jack turned and peered over his shoulder to see Dan standing there, smiling warmly. "Thanks man," Jack said, slurred. He stood. Or rather, he tried to. Drunkenness overcame him, and he swayed to the side, into Dan's arms. He caught Jack with a laugh, and a, "Woah, okay. Come on buddy." Jack patted Dan's shoulder, resisting the urge to grip it tight. "Thanks man. Yer th' best." Dan mockingly nodded. "Sure I am. Let's go Jack." "Text us when you're home!" Arin called. Jack have a haphazard wave before stumbling out the door of the bar, laughing all the way. Dan just shook his head at Arin, a sort of This guy's such a dork kind of look. Then he left, following closely behind.*** Dan slid into the driver's seat, buckling first himself, then Jack as well, who was staring forward, trying to focus on a point in the distance. "Take you to the hotel buddy, then you take a nice long sleep." Jack nodded, head heavy. He didn't answer. Sudden change in mood, Dan couldn't help thinking. He put the car in drive and started out towards the hotel. They'd all end up there tonight, but Dan wasn't quite as tired as he hoped he'd be. After a few minutes of silence, Dan couldn't help but peek over to see if Jack had fallen asleep. He hadn't: he was still staring forward, teeth gritted, eyes slightly glazed over. "You okay?" Dan asked. For a second, Jack didn't answer, and a seed of worry planted itself in Dan's stomach. Was he so drunk he couldn't speak? He tried again. "Buddy?" Jack, still staring ahead, replied, "I'm great." He didn't sound great. His voice was raspy, low, like he was trying to feign a deeper voice on purpose. And it sounded slightly distorted, as if he were speaking from a shaky car. But the road was smooth. With a red light approaching, Dan slowed the car down to a stop. He turned more fully and faced Jack. "If you got a headache or something I can run to the store and grab some Tylenol or something. You sure you're doing good?" Jack slowly turned to face Dan, and Dan wanted to scream. Jack's eyes were black. Completely, fully black. There was no sign of human in them. And when he smiled: a row of razor sharp teeth protruded from his lips, way too long to sit in his mouth comfortable. They were stained with blood. "What are you?!" Dan asked, horrified. Jack--or, whatever this thing was--laughed; a sound like metal grating a chalk board, and he gripped Dan's thigh and pushed down with enough force to break his leg. Dan screamed in pain and terror. Unable to remove his foot from the gas pedal, the car sped forward into the oncoming traffic. All Dan saw before everything went black was a semi truck barreling towards the driver's side door.

[usuallypleasantprince]

Read The Broker(3) online free by John Grisham

The Broker(3) Author: John Grisham

Artie, minus the Heineken, and again without knocking, poked his head through the door and announced: "Maynard's here."

"So he's alive," the President said.

"Barely."

"Then roll him in."

Hoby and a deputy named Priddy followed the wheelchair into the Oval Office. The President and Critz welcomed their guests and directed them to the sitting area in front of the fireplace. Though Maynard avoided the White House, Priddy practically lived there, briefing the President every morning on intelligence matters.

As they settled in, Teddy glanced around the room, as if looking for bugs and listening devices. He was almost certain there were none; that practice had ended with Watergate. Nixon laid enough wire in the White House to juice a small city, but, of course, he paid for it. Teddy, however, was wired. Carefully hidden above the axle of his wheelchair, just inches below his seat, was a powerful recorder that would capture every sound made during the next thirty minutes.

He tried to smile at President Morgan, but he wanted to say something like: You are without a doubt the most limited politician I have ever encountered. Only in America could a moron like you make it to the top.

President Morgan smiled at Teddy Maynard, but he wanted to say something like: I should have fired you four years ago. Your agency has been a constant embarrassment to this country.

Teddy: I was shocked when you carried a single state, albeit by seventeen votes.

Morgan: You couldn't find a terrorist... Source: Read The Broker(3) online free by John Grisham #Romance #BillionaireRomance #New-Adult #Young-Adult #HotBookSeries #fantasy #Vampires #OthersBooks #ScienceFiction #Thriller #Horror #Classics #NewReleases #Mystery/Suspense #HotAuthors #TheBroker(3) #75 pages: #Previous #UnfinishedHeroseries #ColoradoMountainseries #Chaosseries #TheSinclairsseries #TheYoungElitesseries #BillionairesandBridesmaidsseries #JustOneDayseries #SinnersonTourseries #Manwhoreseries #ThisManseries #OneNightseries #Fixedseries #AThousandLetters #WastedWords #MyNotSoPerfectLife #Caraval(Caraval#1) #TheSunIsAlsoaStar #Everything,Everything #DevilinSpring(TheRavenels#3) #MarryingWinterborne(TheRavenels#2) #Cold-HeartedRake(TheRavenels#1) #NorseMythology

[hajimine]

hello it’s 💫! my love languages are quality time and acts of service and i’d like a boy please!! thank you so much and congrats on the milestone!! - 💫

👼🏻 tlks; ahhh you’re so priddy 😖😖 and you have such a sweet smile hehe <33

i think you’ll look good with... SUGAWARA KOUSHI !

▹ 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐛𝐲 𝐂. 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐘

•°. * suga will offer to help whenever he sees you struggling with a particular subject, but he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. he would ask you if you want to have a mini study-date in the library, where he’ll patiently explain the topics you’re not really confident with in a manner that’s easier to understand. he will do this happily because one, he can spend more time with you, and two, the sparkle in your eyes when you finally understand how to solve that particular maths question makes his heart flutter warmly.

#— 👼🏻 head cupid lex! #💫 anon!

[hottytoddynews]

The new Dollar General site at the corner of Old Sardis Road near Western Hills Subdivision in Oxford.

They have spread across America like kudzu across Mississippi, so much so that Trish Berry of Indianola says “you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting one in the Delta.”

Large cities, small towns and rural America are infected with them enough that Martha Foose of Pluto, Mississippi, says her family plays road trip games where the winner is the person first to salute one when they pass one on the road.

So, what’s growing faster than weeds in a Spring garden?

The new Dollar General site at the corner of Old Sardis Road near Western Hills Subdivision in Oxford.

    It’s Dollar General, and one of the corporate leaders at the helm of the company’s growth is Ole Miss alum, Rex Martin, vice-president, real estate, who lives in Brentwood, Tennessee. Martin graduated from Ole Miss in 1987 with a degree in Finance.

Martin says he is proud to be a Rebel and was involved in the site selections for the latest Oxford Dollar General stores.

Dollar General has more or less slipped under the radar and blanketed the nation with 13,601 stores as of May 5, 2017, up almost 1,000 stores from 2015.  Some say the growth has been at the expense of big box stores, especially Wal-Mart, which has launched Wal-Mart Neighborhood Markets, a small-store concept that has grown nearly as fast.

Headquartered in Goodlettsville, Tennessee, just north of Nashville, the company has 90,000 employees, and if one could count products in the six Oxford area stores, there might be just as many different items of merchandise on the shelves.

Oxford has three stores: a store on Highway 7 South, stores on North Lamar, and stores on University Ave. in Eastgate Shopping Center. There is a store under construction on Highway 30 near Little John’s Grocery and one is now under construction at the corner of Old Sardis Road near Western Hills subdivision, and construction is moving fast. There was construction work going on at this location when HottyToddy.com passed by on Friday evening, July 7 at 5:45 p.m. (see photos/video)

And it seems almost everyone shops Dollar General at one time or another.  The chain had revenues of over $20 billion in 2016, with a net profit of 5.7%.

Nicole Bryan of Oxford shops Dollar General “3-5 times a week on Highway 7 because it is close to my house in the country,” she said.

“Sodas, snacks, coffee, household items–whatever we run out of and don’t feel like going all the way uptown [for],” Bryan said.

Kate Asbury Larkin, an Ole Miss alum living in Opelika, Alabama, says she shops almost exclusively at Dollar General.  “Already been there today,” Larkin said. “There are 14 stores within 15 miles of my house, and I love ’em!”

“It is so nice to jump into the car and drive a minute or two if you are out of a needed item! So nice to not have to drive all the way into town– and you do not stand in long lines while 8-10 [lines] are closed,” Dena Priddy McCay of Crenshaw said. “You are rung up and out the door with a smile.”

Families shop at Dollar General for different reasons, but usually convenience, price and location are factors most often mentioned.

We asked readers of HottyToddy.com on Facebook about Dollar General, and the discussion was just about as fierce as talk of an Ole Miss win over Alabama. Over 95 readers responded with their thoughts in a matter of hours.

Virtually all of our readers love to shop at “DG,” as the stores are frequently called. The DG brand is now used for store brands and the Dollar General logo. The traditional store is being complimented by two new concept stores, called DGX, which will open in Nashville and Raleigh this year.  Designed to appeal to millennials, these urban-based stores are not typical of the DG shopped by most. The artist’s vision for the Raleigh DGX is open and very modern in design.

Many readers say they shop DG because it is “quick in and out, and they can avoid the long lines at Wal-Mart.” Some complain, however, that units are under staffed and the aisles are congested with merchandise that needs to be restocked.

“They sure get messy around here–you’ll break your neck in the one around here; stuff sitting everywhere,” Brenda Bell Houston said.

Ann Mason of Oxford agrees the clutter is concerning, “the one up north always has merchandise to put in the aisles.”

“I think they are brilliant for hitting the outer limits of cities but, yes, I have seen problems where different stores were a complete wreck with boxes everywhere,” Desiree Dawn Andrews of Water Valley said. “They need closer micromanagement, but the strategy is really brilliant.”

However, not all readers see their DG as messy. “Dollar General stores up here are nice and clean,” writes Albert Winters, a Mississippian who now lives in Henderson, Kentucky.

Despite the criticisms, people responding to HottyToddy.com’s inquiry love to shop at DG.  Suanne Strider of Oxford said she loves it and Jim McIngvale, an Ole Miss grad originally from Batesville and now an executive at Ingalls in Pascagoula simply says “always.”

Barbara Coleman of Oxford agrees, “Love to shop Dollar General. You can get in and find your items and get out without any problems.”

Elizabeth Muse White of Cotton Plant, Mississippi, shops DG often and notes, “they have expanded their products so much in recent years. I like Dollar General.”

Debbie Woodrick Hall said she has a friend in real estate in Arkansas and “every time she lists land, she calls Dollar General.”

The phenomenal growth has not escaped the attention of financial journalists like Terry Wooten, a Pontotoc native and Ole Miss journalism grad, who said, “I refuse to talk about DG. I failed to buy the stock at under $15 several years ago. Like to shop there though,” he added.

DG stock was selling at around $70.23 a share on the New York Stock Exchange as of July 7, 2017. It has split 11 times since 1992 when it had a five for four split. The first store in Oxford opened in 1995.

“It is a great feeling for normal, everyday people to be able to walk into a store and afford anything in the store. It’s fast, clean, and you don’t have to park 100 yards away,” says Todd Windham of Oxford.

There are 380 Dollar General stores and counting in Mississippi. If kudzu is the king of fast growth in Mississippi, Dollar General is queen of small store concepts in our state and across America.

Jim Roberts is a contributor for HottyToddy.com. He can be reached HERE. 

The post Growing Like Kudzu In Mississippi: Seems Everyone Stops In Dollar General From Time To Time appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

#hottytoddy #olemiss #oxfordms #oxford ms #mississippi #university of mississippi #the grove