#probably eating cheese ╱ lulu.

[thewestern]

Chapter 15

Jiggle the knob. You have to fuc-king jig-gle it.  

I am jiggling it. 

No, you’re j-j-j-erking it. It’s not some homeless guy you met under the highway. He’s not gonna share the rest of the ham sandwich he found in the dumpster in exchange for you grating the cheese off his dick. It’s a door knob. You have to Jiggle It. 

Hey Thadeus, guess what? 

What, Louisa?

I’m about to Jiggle this rusty old key in your fucking eye socket … fuuuck, dude. This was supposed to be my day off.

 Our Day Off, Lu. That’s just it — your selfishness. It’s limit does not exist. And that’s just as a twin sister, to say nothing of your fucking tending bar. Maybe if you weren’t such a [whispers] c-u-n-t to the customers, we could make some real money. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to take the extra shift from the first. 

Maybe blow me, Thad, you chode. 

Parked across the street from the green awning, over the gentle purr of his lithium-ion battery-powered engine, Billy could hear every word of this invective volleying, as if it were taking place in the backseat. Sometimes when people cursed a lot — such as Ari on Entourage or Hank on Californication, two of Billy’s favorite premium cable television anti-heroes — it could be kind of hilarious. You know, like if they knew creative swear words or how to incorporate clever puns into their insults and stuff. But this seemed more scary than anything. Borderline abusive, actually.

You know at the time I thought it was harsh but maybe mom was right when she said you were a mistake. 

Oh really … we’re twins, you twat. 

I know. That’s why I wish I was never born, only so that you wouldn’t have ever been born either. You make life worth not living. 

Well, I wish you could terminate one half of a pregnancy. Then I would travel back in time and drive mom to the clinic and pay the hundred and twenty-five dollars or whatever it cost back then to abort you.

Oh yeah? Because with you I bet she’d say, why bother with all the paperwork, when I’ve got a hand mirror right here, and there’s a closet full of perfectly good coat hangers. 

What if we were Chinese, and we were born under the One Child Policy? They probably would have put you up for adoption. Wait, you’re the girl, so it definitely would have been you, by fucking default. You’d have been sent to live with a couple in Paramus, New Jersey, who tried for years to get pregnant but couldn’t because the husband grew up downriver from a cat food factory. They’d name you Jennifer. You’d be their little China doll and they’d spoil you rotten. But they’d never love you. Not really. Not like they would have their own flesh and blood.

Listen, you creep. I don’t know what blood type we are, but you better hope you don’t ever need a life-saving plasma transplant because I will let the cancer eat away at your bone marrow until you fucking die slow. Bitch ass.

Jesus. Them two were mean, man. No doubt about it. But also, so fantastical with their dueling barbs as to render them mostly harmless. At least by Billy’s estimation. Hildy on the other hand didn’t have to resort to any profanity-laced threats of incurring bodily harm upon one’s unborn person to hurt his or her feelings. That’s not to say she couldn’t be passive-aggressive, which she could — with the best of them. Whatever she did say, however, you could be sure that she meant it. And that was the worst part. 

It goes without saying though that while Hildy practiced nonviolence in her campaigns against Billy’s self-esteem, the Jackson twins were willing to defend themselves by any means necessary. When she finally got the door to lock (thanks to some subtle jiggling, although she’d just as soon die than admit as such), Lulu raised her hand in the air and snapped her fingers repeatedly, creating a diversion that she used to then throw the keys at Thad, aiming for his groin. Somewhat haphazardly he blocked them by lifting his right leg, scrunching up into a standing fetal, and countered by bludgeoning her with his backpack whilst hopping on one foot like a defensive flamingo. Absorbing the off-balance blows, she readied to perform the fatality maneuver — every time … he started, she finished — a behind-the-leg, scorpion kick to his upper shin, buckling his knee just shy of hyper-extension. 

Argh, Full-blown AIDS, he shouted, thus signaling his submission as he crumbled unto the sidewalk of New Frontier.  

But right back up he sprung. And, with that out of their system, they carried on down the block as if nothing happened, walking right past Billy to their car. It was a hand-me-down minivan that their mother and father had previously used primarily as a means to promote the family orthodontistry practice. (Also they would take it out on weekends and holidays to the Less Fortunate neighborhoods, where they’d offer up orthodontic services on a pro bono basis. A nice gesture, albeit ill-conceived.) And damnit if there wasn’t a big old fucking incisor impacted right on the roof, crowned by a bracket fashioned out of aluminum foil and coat hangers, that which twins never bothered to have removed. 

  Billy waited for them to disappear around the corner before himself flipping another bitch and pulling around to the curb beside the front entrance. With the press of a button, the drivers’-side door flapped open, like a hydraulic wing. Billy suddenly regretted how difficult it was to subtly exit out of a vertically-hinged door, especially when it was attached to a canary yellow sport coupe. Stepping onto the curb, he could see how in all that commotion, the quarrelsome twosome had left the keys just sitting there, right beneath the chalk sign which today read: Our intent is for all your delight. 

Funnily enough, almost this exact scenario had played itself out once before. Although in that instance circumstances had been the reverse, in that it was Thadeus who’d flung the keys at Louisa, a short time after which a presumably homeless person happened upon them, entered the bar and beelined for the cash register, the key to which was situated there on the very same ring. Unfortunately for the perpetrator, this crime of utmost convenience was committed on what was among the slowest Monday’s in recent memory. The take, therefore, was less than fifty dollars in small bills. Probably feeling a little put out, before absconding with the paltry sum, he or she used the bar as a bathroom. And not the bathroom part either. 

It had to have been Hank who discovered the burglar’s fecal calling card there on the parquet floor. But then wouldn’t you believe he wasn’t all that upset? Not the first time, he said somehow wistfully, as if reminiscing about a past instance of a similar nature. Suppose then this was just an occupational bio-hazard. Another day in the bar business. Obviously, he left the mess for Thadeus and Louisa to clean up. You can only imagine how bitterly they argued over the how, the where and especially the who, when it came time to dispose of the turd. Hank didn’t fire them though, or really even offer much reproach. For crying out loud he let them keep their closing privileges. That was the kind of guy Hank was. Accepting of all shenanigans.   

Billy, though, might could have tested his patience. Experienced as he was in causing mischief, he knew better than to do … whatever he was going to do — he still hadn’t decided — on a downtown avenue, beneath the street lamps as they refracted off his highlighter-coloured, cry for help-of a motor vehicle. So he pulled it around the corner and ducked back down the alley. 

The greatest trick this car ever pulled was parking itself, which it proceeded to do between the dumpster and a brick wall. To interpret this as a testament to the benevolent sophistication of Artificial Intelligence and its potential myriad of positive applications for aiding humanity, or a demonic sign of the coming singularity, is your prerogative entirely. In either case, Billy didn’t have near enough room to open his driver’s side door. (Because it hinged open vertically, one could not crack it open and shimmy out like a regular schmuck. It required room enough to fully spread its wings. Before you fault the manufacturer for this, a rather obvious design flaw, consider that the typical driver of a car that costs more than your average three bed, two bath, in a great neighborhood with good schools, isn’t squeezing into many tight spots between two gigantic fucking pickups, because somehow it’s the single empty space in the entire Pacific Ocean-sized parking lot of the Save-a-Load. It’s called, Valet.)   

Just as soon as he was through hoisting himself out through the moonroof and sliding down the hood, Billy approached the back door with a privileged sense of calm — as if he owned the place, which according to his mother he bloody well would, pending board approval. There were five keys on the chain, and none of them were working. It occurred to Billy how he didn’t have much experience with analog locks. True, his parents weren’t around a lot when he got home from school, but you don’t qualify as a latchkey kid when your house has retinal scanner-enabled entry. And of course it goes without saying that his car’s ignition was push-button. On the whole, keys were very not swag at all. 

Readying to resort to his most time-honoured practice — quitting … just giving up — Billy remembered all the way back to five minutes before. You have to jiggle the handle. You fucking twat. 

###

Ask yourself. What would Billy do? Not as a Craft Beer Explorer, so much. As an individual. In this instance, a highly fucking suspicious one. Well, recall that crime comes down to motive. So what does he want? Right now he wants someone else (his mom) not to do something, which is hardly wanting anything at all. Suppose then, in the grander scheme of things, that he wants to become a successful beer executive and to carry on his family legacy. But does he want that, or does his mother want that? Or does he want his mother to want that. Or does he just want her to want something — anything — on his behalf. 

Now that we’re clear on his intentions, what are his available options? Counterintelligence, obviously, comes to mind. Corporate espionage. Gather, or better yet manufacture incriminating evidence against the New Frontier Brewing Company, and use it to sabotage the acquisition. Realistically, without Yayo-L standing by to help him hack the mainframe, he wouldn’t be likely to find a smoking gun among their electronic records, even if he knew what he was looking for, which he did not. Ah, but what about the art of sabotage, in and of itself … couldn’t he skip straight to that? Contaminate the beer with a foreign agent to somehow interfere with the fermentation. Again, he wasn’t fully up to speed on the microbiology of beer making. (Even the macro was beyond his tenuous grasp.) Perhaps that would be covered in his rotational leadership program, but then the whole point here was to avoid that bullshit straight away. There was always acting out of spite. That he had in spades. Take a dump on the floor? Who says no? 

All This was synchronized swimming laps around Billy’s head. Sometimes it was all he could do to tread water, try not to get kicked. The physical space was likewise pitch dark. Rather than flick the switch, Billy used the LED screen on his cell phone as a torch to light his way, slaloming between the tall metal tanks, hopscotching over hoses. Guided by only the faint blue glow, floating in all that darkness, he was like the captain of a deep-sea submersible, exploring the uncharted leagues along the ocean floor, searching for long lost shipwrecks and cataloguing new species of aquatic life forms.

All that was on the the Mick’s stark workstation was his marble composition notebook. Billy shined his light on the dog-eared page, faintly illuminating a vivid sketch of a man on a buffalo being chased off a cliff by a rocket ridden by … Doctor Ezekiel Lupustein. A big bad omen. Billy hated that fucking mutt. He would haunt him for all his days.

Entering the sanctum of Hank’s office, preserved in amber ale, for the first time in this particular breaking and entering, Billy felt like he was actually intruding on something. He was someone who had spent most of his upbringing in places that lacked a certain hospitality, to human life forms. Prep school, around his mother. And whereas these hallowed places, like the great halls of the Wolffenhaus, were intermittently occupied … this office, was a room that to him had seemed Lived In.  He could tell by all the cool shit there was everywhere. Like the furniture. Oriental rugs, a leather sofa, lamps galore. Items that had been walked, sat and turned on, many times over. 

 And books. A voluminous library with what figured to be many dozens of them. Dense biographies of Real Men of Genius. Such as Lyndon Johnson. The odd reference book about metallurgy. And of course, a robust stack of Hank’s favorite genre, Prepositional Phrase Adventure Porn. Into Thin Air, Into the Wild, Around the World in Eighty Days, In Harm’s Way, In the Heart of the Sea, (Twenty Thousand Leagues) Under the Sea, Between a Rock and a Hard Place, On Horseback Through Asia Minor, Through the Looking Glass. 

Kitty used to tease Hank about all his things. How he made his adult male doll house. A magnanimous man cave. He said, poke fun all you want, Kitty dear, but these things and this place are who I am. She thought better than to say so aloud, but what a sad thing that was to hear. 

Just like behind the bar, the office walls were covered almost every inch over. Although mostly by photographs. Also a mounted plastic fish that sang a song when you pressed a button, which Billy did instinctually.

Take me to the river, dip me in the water (Washing me down, washing me)

Billy fixated on one of a man he did not know to be Hank — khaki-clad, head-to-toe — standing in a row of what appeared to be tribesmen, all holding spears and shields. Then he inspected the various commendations, citations, honorary degrees, etcetera. Displayed most prominently among them was a plaque inscribed to John Henry W. O'Sullivan the distinguished recipient of the Randolph Scott Award for Innovation in Brewing as so recognized by the North American Master Brewers Labor Association. Somewhere, in the distance, the Mick stuck his tongue out and made a fart noise. 

Wasn’t much art to speak of, unless you count framed concert posters. Hank surely did. Winterland Arena, Nassau Coliseum, Avalon Ballroom, Wembley Empire Pool, King’s Beach Bowl, literally the Great Pyramids, in mother fucking Egypt. Souvenirs from faraway fantasy lands, were these illustrated relics from the bygone times of Kings, Emperors, Warlocks and Pharaohs. Only one painting without any accompanying copy. A lithographic portrait of Sadaam Hussein. Crude oil on canvas. You could expect that Billy didn’t much keep up with current events, but everybody knew Uncle Sadaam. He saw the video of him getting hung online. Like, bruh. See an opp in a spider hole. Catch a case in a tribunal. He want the glock. We got the noose. Neck go pop. Off your head top. 

Oh, cool, a ship in a bottle. There on the executive desk. Here was your classic old wooden ship with the full square rigging. Billy was once sent away as a teenager on a four-week Experiential Outdoor Education and Immersive Behavioural Optimization Expedition to the Caribbean, the first of several attempts at correctional recreation made on his behalf. The Bahamas was tight, but having to learn all those gay knots and eat canned pasta was whack as fhuck, dude. 

Having some sailing experience under his needlepoint belt, Billy took note of how this ship in a bottle wasn’t running triumphantly downwind, though. It was tilted at an acute angle, but it wasn’t sailing on a reach either — no, the masts were down. Was it capsizing? The water was white. For a fact, it wasn’t water at all; it was ice. The ensign was a Union Jack and the name on the stern read: ENDURANCE. Huh. Billy couldn’t make withdrawals from his trust until he turned thirty-five, and if he made it, he looked forward most to buying a Super Yacht, or at the very least a speed boat like the ones in Bad Boys II. BIG PIMPIN’, he would christen the goodship. Best part of getting a boat is you get to name it, he reckoned.

Then there was a shitload of other random ass shit. A totem pole in one corner. A grossvater clock catty-corner to that, which Hank never bothered to wound. (The time was currently set to quarter past eleven, actually only thirteen minutes slow, numbers which are not symbolic in any way, you can rest assured.) He kept a vintage milk crate filled of some of his favorite rock specimens he’d collected on various hikes. Chairs were set out in contradiction more than invitation — a royal blue plastic-molded seat he stole from the football stadium before it was imploded in a controlled demolition, an eames lounge chair notably sans ottoman, a set of two bean bags, a vintage wicker wheelchair and a t-bar, which was a primitive form of ski lift. (Somewhere in a faraway storage unit Hank had a one-hundred percent authentic electric chair. To be perfectly clear, he came by it organically. Insofar as he hadn’t sought it out or anything. And he only very briefly considered setting it out in the bar before he thought the better. He wasn’t one of those death perverts who collected blood relics and other assorted pain paraphernalia to put on public display.)  Right by the door there was a human skeleton — like they had in science class — with a crown of fake roses. (They looked and felt plastic, but they smelled real.) Kitty and the Mick got him that for his sixtieth. She grave dug it out from the janitor’s closet at West Middle, and he brought it back to life with a couple coats of spray paint, appropriately bone white. This specimen dated back to a simpler time when they used actual human tissue in classrooms, to Show the Children how exactly the knee bone connected to the shin bone. (Via what are called articulations, surfaces wherein two bones meet, the patellofemoral and the tibiofemoral in the knee joint.) Those were the days. Back in the present, some knuckleheaded smartasses had doodled tattoos all over it with permanent marker. The words Thug Life was written across the lower rib cage. A teardrop fell down the cheekbone. A monarch butterfly took flight from off the coccyx. In fairness to those kids though, they had no clue that Casey Bones, as Hank got to calling him, used to be a real living person, who very generously donated his or her body to Science, back in an era when that wouldn’t have been nearly as common a thing to do. (Long before it was a decision you could make at the Department of Motor Vehicles.) They probably had no idea then that they were desecrating that charitable person’s remains with these, their entirely coincidental symbols of life, death and rebirth. 

Beyond the cheap thrill of trespassing on someone’s property, as well as apparently their whole personality, nothing here was quite sustaining Billy’s interest. To be honest he was getting fairly bored. His phone phantom buzzed on his right hip. Out of habit he opened the Brick Blaster app before quickly closing it, something he did routinely — in important meetings, at the movies, one time while getting his ass et. It wasn’t easy to lose focus like that, in the act of committing a class-three felony, nor while reaching third base on a bend-over triple. But that was Billy. Always off someplace else, adrift in the tide pool of his own fucking head. 

On the way out he opened the mini fridge. Doing hoodrat stuff always made him thirsty. Hopefully there was a sparkling water in there or something. Damn. Just half a turkey sandwich, and two-thirds a six pack of Wolffenbeir Native. Or, Natty Dub, as it had been colloquialized by Billy and other like doofuses.

Taking a hard right out Hank’s door led him into the taproom proper. Billy could see a switch along the wall, marked by a little black tape label with embossed white letters which read: THE WALL of LIGHT. You already know he flicked that shit, and sure enough, son-a’-bitch lit up like the Fourth of Ju-ly. Red and green lights Hank hung for Christmas, blue and whites he hung for Hanukkah, despite the Mick’s repeated insistings how very much that he did not care, those paper lanterns for Chinese New Year … and for some pagan holiday for worshipping the occult, that neon likeness Doctor Lupustein — Billy could swear he stalked him — flashing red the color of hellfire ember. 

Although for once Billy’s animated nemesis wasn’t the center of attention. Not on THE WALL of LIGHT, at least. Like a nervous system, all of the bulbs and their corresponding circuitry seemed to lead to the middle top of the wall. There, the reason he came all this way was revealed unto him. Bertha, the prize bison head. Billy knew now. He was going to steal it. 

###

Billy was what you would call a Bad Kid. Objectively speaking. But, he didn’t do drugs. He didn’t even drink beer, it bears repeating. And he wasn’t a bully, not like a lot of his peers — rich pricks. For that he deserves some recognition from this board. Sure he liked to talk tough, but that boy wouldn’t hurt a fly. Still, by any measure, Billy was a Bad Kid. Or what you would call one. So, why? Because. Billy stole. 

Now your typical thief, Billy wasn’t. In so far as his crimes weren’t borne of necessity. Without the mean old Kraut Wilhelm I, Billy’s Grossvater, around to piss vinegar in his kids’ milk, this next generation of Wolffenbeir spawn had been spoiled rotten, almost as a matter of policy. One of familial diplomacy: Hard-earned entitlements by way of unilateral appeasement. Anything he ever wanted he could have. (Except that which he wanted most of all  — a boat … for now.) Usually in forty-eight hours or less. (And this was before two-day shipping.) All this is to say that Billy didn’t Have to Steal. He Wanted to Steal. Baby, he Needed to Steal. So Steal he Did. 

 Pre-school was his first score. Snuck away during nap time and cleaned out every last one of them cubbies. While he was able to nab the odd knapsack and lunchbox, mostly, it was an art heist. Finger paintings, macaroni pictures, hand turkeys. Damned if he didn’t get away with it, too, burying the loot in the sandbox, taking it home piece by piece throughout the remainder of the school year. 

Ms. Huey, his frizzly red-headed teacher, was beside herself. She hadn’t for a moment considered that one of her students could be capable of such an act, fearing surely it had to have been the work of a local pedophile. You can imagine then, when she expressed as such, the police were called in to investigate. They dusted off every inch of that classroom for fingerprints with which to cross-reference via the sex offender registry. Sure enough there was a hit, with Ms. Huey’s fiance, Geoff. It goes without saying that she was devastated to discover she’d been betrothed to a criminal pervert, who let the record reflect had courted her under false pretenses, and an assumed name, presumably because her job could afford him tangential and therefore untraceable access to a wellspring of toddlers. 

At least she hadn’t walked down the aisle to an awaiting Geoff (his real name, if you can believe it, was Jeff … now, this doesn’t apply to you pederasts, but pro tip to everybody else out there using aliases for non sexually-violent offenses, don’t just change the spelling of your name, and certainly don’t swap it out for something more conspicuous, like fucking Geoff … now there’s a guy who touches kids), before he could be perp walked out of their shared apartment in front seemingly the entire complex. That they had not recovered the stolen goods among his otherwise highly incriminating belongings, however, the proper authorities were not the least bit concerned, since they had quite obviously ID’d the culprit positively, and apprehended him peaceably.   

All the while, no one ever suspected Billy. It was the perfect crime. 

So perfect in fact, that Billy may well have peaked, prematurely. Thereafter, his lopsided record of W’s to L’s indicated he wasn’t a very good thief. He wasn’t a bad one either, necessarily. Not sloppy by any means. Really his was a problem of regression to the mean. You see, when it comes down to it, grand larceny is a numbers game. Any snatch and grab man that’s worth a shit will tell you you’re going to take a pinch, sooner rather than later. So you pick your spots. But that was just it for Billy. He had a different calculus. A high-volume shooter, you could call him. To be clear, it was not that he was trying to get caught, as if he had some kind of complex. You wouldn’t say he was compulsive about it, in that way. More … prolific. And with regard to consequences, it wasn’t that he didn’t care. Sure, he affected an air that he didn’t care, about anything, but it was painfully obvious to anyone paying attention that he cared —  desperately so — about every little thing. 

Perhaps it was partly because those consequences didn’t bear down upon him with anywheres near the severity as they would for your average hoodlum or hopper. To that end, Hildy spent much of Billy’s childhood into young adulthood covering his ass. For his benefit, certainly, but also for hers. Being a young and ambitious female executive within the chauvinistic corporate hierarchy that pervaded the Wolffenbeir Company, as it had been meticulously erected by its patriarch, Wilhelm I, Hildy’s career prospects were tenuous enough as it was. If somehow it was made widely known that her meteoric professional ascent as a working mother had come at the expense of her increasingly delinquent son, well, that would’ve reflected quite poorly on her wouldn’t it.

Mercifully for her sake then that criminals are territorial by their very nature, and Billy was no different. So it stands to reason how for many of his subsequent crimes, he returned to the scene of his original sin. The Canaan Country Day School. The ideal staging ground for an aspiring thief, this petri dish of deteriorating privilege. Those little human bacteria were isolated and cultured from pre-K all the way on through Twelve, although Billy only made it to Eleven. 

Though it ended thusly, just woefully short of completion, Billy made the most of his prep school tenure, rest assured. He robbed that place fucking blind. Offender on repeat. And he took big scores, too. For example like, at the start of every academic year, when it was often required that students of a certain grade level purchase a specific school supply, Billy took that as a personal challenge. In fourth grade it was recorders. He stole an entire symphony orchestra’s-worth on the eve of the big recital. Poor kids had to hum My Heart Will Go On. 

Thereafter, the middle school — or rather, Lower School, as the Canaanites insisted on calling it — mandated that students begin using three-ring binders to organize their assignments. Preliminary training for the diligent work that is Wealth Management, for the children of parents whose estates were to be meticulously stewarded through a convoluted network of byzantine financial instruments deployed in the name of charitable trusts, itemizing contributions only to worthy grantees such as the City Ballet or the Common Sense Institute for Economic Policymaking, or perhaps, say, the Canaan Country Day endowment fund, that which exceeded the GDP of some developing nations. So important a lesson indeed, that these parents — and acting executors of their family foundations — could not be bothered to pick up said binders or other learning implements on behalf of their brood at the local big box outlet. So that the binders were issued, included as part of the goods and services expense in their tuition, to each rising middle schooler, emblazoned with the Canaan Country Day motto: Values ​​​​ad vitam impletum (Values for a life fulfilled), or teaching the upper crust’s moldy fucking scraps how to hold on for dear life to the rest of what’s theirs.

But, before the all-important binders were to be distributed on the first day of sixth grade, Billy jimmied the door to the supply closet where they were stored, and lined them one by one, up, down and across the cloistered hallway, painstakingly popping open the flimsy metal claws to fashion them into bear traps for the pre-pubescent.

Come high school (beg your pardon, Upper School … fucking ugh), the nonlinear nature of polynomial algebra necessitated the ubiquitous use of sophisticated graphing calculators. Nevermind how he was a year-and-change behind, mired in eighth-grade-level pre-algebra. Billy resented the implication. However, by now you can bet the administration had picked up on the forensic patterns of his still-developing criminal mind, which by contrast were quite linear indeed. Which is to say, the heat was on; they had a Bolo out on Billy. Not subtle with their tails, either. These were obvious hall monitor types. With their snitch asses. They were working in shifts, in his khaki cargo pocket, coming and going in and out of every class. But somehow though, Slick Billy shook his tail, if only for a moment. That was all it took. In the span of a second period, every last calculator up and vanished from Mr. Kuntz’s advanced placement trigonometry classroom, using as a diversion one of his interminable lectures on the myriad practical applications of creating statistical models for means testing entitlements. Twenty-three calculators were taken in total, summing to a street market value of just a shade under two thousand dollars, the legal threshold constituting Grand Theft according to state law. (Again, Billy wasn’t a Master Thief by any measure, but he had his moments.) They were recovered on the first day of the following semester, stacked neatly on the headmaster’s desk, each bearing a numeric signature of sorts. Billy’s five-digit calling card: 80085. 

While the Canaan Country Day School was secular (godless, even), they did accept indulgences to pay for pupils’ past and future sins, as you might expect, in the form of in-kind donations. Ever the shrewd businesswoman, rather than pay an adjusted-rate premium for Billy’s a la carte offenses, Hildy negotiated a proto-subscription service model with the aforementioned headmaster, Lieutenant Colonel Richard Judd. In addition to providing a welcome stream of recurring revenue to the school’s general fund, the agreed-upon payment structure called for financing a semi-annual facilities upgrade. Before Billy could do long division, he was attending classes and participating in extracurricular activities on a completely renovated campus of state-of-the-art learning spaces, named almost exclusively for his familial ancestors and other figures of significance to the Wolffenbeir Company. up to and including the much-heralded dedication of the Doctor Lupustein Infirmary. To the utter delight of the assembled faculty and student body, Billy notwithstanding, the wolf himself, in the plush, attended the ribbon-cutting ceremony, with a trio of his sexy nurse practitioners in tow. 

Thereafter, running out of immediate relatives and beloved mascots (it should be noted how she refused to commemorate her Grossvater, Wilhelm I — joke’s on her though … Big Will would have burned that mother down and pissed on the ashes before suffering the disgrace of association with such a Rat Ship, as he referred to CCD), Hildy resorted to namesaking Conservative Women of Consequence whom she admired from throughout history. The Margaret Thatcher Dining Hall. The Shirley Temple Center for the Performing Arts. The Ayn Rand Endowed Teaching Chair. The Nancy Reagan Head of the Class Scholarship, given to that year’s Top-performing female student, pending results of comprehensive drug tests and an astrological reading. 

All this in lieu of expulsion, for which Billy would have been a prime candidate.  Not for nothing, but it was an outcome he would have vastly preferred to his rigorous program of deferred discipline, in favor of rigorous rehabilitation. As per his mother’s agreement, Billy was required to undergo an intense battery of one-on-one counseling sessioins, as well as additional Nature-based experiential therapy for troubled youths. (The latter was the reason for Billy having to earn his basic seamanship, as well as a full suite of other basic skills suitable for survival on land.) Headmeister Lieutenant Colonel Judd, you see, was a firm believer in the character-enriching properties of the Great Outdoors, drawing on his own personal crucible in the highlands of the Korean Peninsula, and later the flood planes of the Mekong Delta. Of course, if you could only line these ungrateful tenderfooted faggots on the business end of a Chinese-made AK-47, they’d fall right in line with a hop-to, lamented the Lieutenant Colonel. But, begrudgingly, he would settle for at least getting them outside, away from their perverted music videos. Marxist-Leninist indoctrination propaganda films, the lot of them. (Every afternoon he would watch Total Request Live and seeth, fantasizing about ripping out host Carson Daly’s polished nails, one by fucking one.) 

As for Billy’s shrinks, the diagnostic consensus was that here was your garden variety case of kleptomania, mostly benign. There was although some clinical disagreement among them therein — he was treated by a rotation of psychiatrist specialists over the years … the top docs in their respective fields, all — as to whether he also exhibited any symptomatic comorbidities, such as an elevated risk for substance abuse, latent homosexuality or perhaps even psychopathic tendencies. Now it was true that he lied, compulsively. Even Billy would admit that. But he only intentionally misled insofar as it enabled him to steal things. It wasn’t as if he was out here burning ants or drowning cats. Quite the contrary. Like his late grandfather, Wilhelm II — The Deuce, Billy-boy was a big-time softie for all the animal kingdom’s many multi-legged subjects. (There was one exception. He never did get along with man’s best friend. Obviously, there was Lupustein, M.D., his nemesis. Fucking doggy doctor, specializing in sniffing dudes’ dongs. Also he was aggravated by the constant mood swings of his mother’s manic depressive terriers. But to be honest, he couldn’t truly hate those two slobberpusses. Really, Billy only resented how they seemed to always take her side.) For a fact, when the day came to dissect bullfrogs in tenth-grade biology, he intercepted the shipment of live specimens and laid a plague upon his teacher Mrs. Toebbe’s hatchback, the one with the Darwin fish decal on the bumper. To be clear, no amphibians were injured in the making of this caper. The Canaan School stood on the grounds of a would otherwise-be wetland preserve and wildlife refuge, so this toad load thrived upon their stay of execution and subsequent release. (Yes, you are correct in assuming that these organisms are typically pre-euthanized and embalmed before being bulk-ordered and shipped off to classrooms for to be descecrated by teenagers. However, the Lieutenant Colonel pulled rank to intervene in Mrs. Toebbe’s lesson planning, insisting that if her students were to observe life in such a state, that they themselves see it drain from their subjects’ bulging eyes.)   

Despite his many trespasses, this delicate arrangement Hildy had made to shield her son from any repercussions whatsoever was holding up quite sturdily. Billy was a ball hair away from finishing his penultimate, third year. (A note on style. CCD didn’t go by grade numbers, like eleventh. There were no juniors, or sophomores or seniors or freshman, for that matter. Billy was a Third Year.) From there he could coast on through to graduation. (Commencement, in Canaan parlance.) Smooth sailing to the finish. That was until … he crossed a line so bold, his transgression, even his all-powerful mother could not erase. 

###

Without its tradition, the Canaan Country Day School would be but a husk of itself. In all his litany of larcenies, running up a rap sheet the length of the Condoleezza Rice Football Field and back, Billy had still yet to run afoul of the school’s ritual customs to an extent that which would narcissistically wound its stratospheric sense of institutionalized self-importance. Partly because Lt. Col.  Judd took great pains to prevent such occurrence. As the school year in question drew to its conclusion, the Lieutenant Colonel was preparing to unveil a bronze bust of the Canaan founding headmaster, his administrative mentor and father, Doctor J. Jerome Judd — a groundbreaking figure in the fields of preparatory education as well as eugenic theory, although this tribute would serve to emphasize the former. Several weeks preceding the ceremony, Judd the Younger spent bolstering his tactical defensive postures against Billy, the teenage insurgent. No expense would be spared, up to and including the subcontracting of a comprehensive risk assessment, to be drafted at exorbitant cost by a counterterrorism analyst from the Perlmutter Agency.  

Whosever fuckup was culpable for the binder debacle or the calculator calamity, this time, the Lieutenant Colonel wasn’t taking any chances. The evening before it was to be unveiled at the all-school assembly, he himself supervised the delivery, had it encased in bulletproof glass, and installed a laser tripwire alarm system, courtesy of the good people at ​​Karakuchi, Ltd., a high-ranking executive of which was the parent of a Canaan first-year. So help him god, if Billy or some other poor soul so much as set foot in the Ann Coulter Common Room, hell itself would descend upon them. 

The following morning, after making an excruciatingly lengthy speech covering a bevy of topics — scholarship and virtue, respect for one’s elders, the moral cowardice of guerilla warfare and others — Lieutenant Colonel Judd removed the velvet cover revealing to all his late father’s likeness ... fully caked in clown makeup. 

Billy styled the black and white countenance after one popularized by the rap duo Insane Clown Posse. During that time he was experimenting with Juggaloism. Juggal is the term of endearment with which ICP refers to their devoted fans, and they themselves and one another. Billy was more a casual Jugallo, though. Not a credentialed Jugallo for Lyfe. Which is to say he’d never had the pleasure of attending the Gathering (of the Juggalos), their annual pilgrimaje. However he was a one-time completist of the rap rock-slash-nu metal genre, and he had transformed the Canaan Country Day commemoration of its founder, Doctor J. Jerome Judd, into his own commemoration of the co-founder of the Insane Clown Posse, Violent J. 

(Some years after Billy’s rap palette matured to the extent it did, an infomercial for the Gathering of the Juggalos was parodied on the very same sketch comedy show that Doctor Lupustein made his much-heralded debut in primetime. It was very funny, and for a time the Juggalos became a kind of collective cultural punchline, especially among new media types, many of whom sent their Reporters out on Assignment, inland from their respective coasts to Cover the now-infamous music festival. From these hillbilly safaris, they brought back more low-brow fodder, masquerading as some socio-cultural taxonomy. Ironically cataloguing their various customs. What they drank, for example — Faygo, a budget-friendly brand of soft drink distributed exclusively to the Midwestern market. Their mating rituals — bartering beads or other goods in exchange for the baring of one's breasts, which are often also festively painted.] Their iconography — the Hatchetman, a silhouette of a running man with dreadlocks bearing a hatchet, is the trademarked logo of Psychopathic Records, and a symbol many Juggalos have tattooed on their person. Their terms of endearment — colloquially, Jugaloos and Jugalettes refer to one another as Ninja. This is because Joe Bruce and Joe Ulster, the Christian names of ICP frontmen Shaggy 2 Dope and the aforementioned Violent J, respectively, grew up dirt poor in a suburb of Detroit, Michigan. To entertain themselves, they watched television. Professional wrestling and horror movies were obviously their most profound influences. But, also, Kung Fu films. In popular folklore, the Ninja, or shinobi, was a peasant warrior whom the higher class Samurai warrior looked down upon for employing tactics they deemed to be dishonourable. Stealth assassinations, spying, sabotage, general sneakiness. But the ninjas weren’t concerned with anyone’s concept of honour. Perhaps as testament to their poor upbringing, these outcasts were concerned only with one thing — survival. And this their special set of skills, made them exceedingly difficult to kill. Jugallos, or Ninjas, likewise, live forever.    

Their war cry —

Although it wasn't all fun and games. You see they also documented a troubling pattern of harassment against female ICP fans [Juggalettes]. Okay, lookit. This is not to in any way excuse that kind of behavior [here it comes …], which is incorrigible [ … bu bu bu], But [Flex Bomb!] the notion that women being mistreated is somehow endemic to this tiny subgenre of a subgenre … well that’s just crazy, man. Ask yourself this. What about Grateful Dead shows? All about peace and love, right? Well, why don’t you ask Mary Ellen Moffet how the fairer sex faired on Shakedown Street, where the love wasn’t always so peaceful. The point is that The Genre of music — however fucking silly — has got nothing to do with it. At every fest, concert, rave, recital, drum circle, jamboree … you name it … wherever music is performed and judgment-impairing substances are served … you can bet that women are probably being taken advantage of if not outright abused. Pointing the finger at these mostly harmless hillbillies because they wear funny facepaint doesn’t make the rest of us any less ugly. 

Around about that same time the FBI officially classified the Juggalos as a criminal street gang. With backing from the ACLU, ICP, Inc. strenuously objected to this characterization of their fanbase, going so far as to file suit against the federal government, albeit unsuccessfully. Spurned by the courts, ninjas took to the streets, staging a hundred-or-so Hatchetman March on Washington. 

Whether or not the increased law enforcement scrutiny served to prevent any crimes from being committed, it no doubt resulted in many otherwise law-abiding juggalos being targeted and harassed by dragnet investigations and baseless accusations. 

Five or so years later, Donald Trump got himself elected president. 

Not so funny now, is it?) 

To this day, nobody knows how Billy did it. Shucking and jiving his way like Catherine Zeta-Jones through all them lasers. Then again, as far as the other students were concerned, well, none of them much cared. You might suppose he would have been lauded by his classmates as a crusader — sort of a combination of Robin Hood and Ferris Bueller — sticking it to the curmudgeonly principle. But it wasn’t like that. Not even close. For a fact, everybody thought that Billy — the Insane Class Clown — was weird. Whenever he pulled off one of his big scores, they collectively rolled their eyes. Mostly they were worried about getting into a good college. Canaan Country Day fostered a highly competitive environment. They didn’t have time for Billy’s shenanigans. So while he would have relished in their tacit approval, or perhaps even having a partner in crime, as all the best stick-up men do, Billy was left to work alone.

The Lieutenant Colonel on the other hand was very curious indeed about how Billy had thwarted him for the last time, so help him god. Worse than the crime itself, Billy had also managed to lock the bulletproof encasing in such a way that nobody could get the damn thing out and wipe the grease paint off. For hours on end, he enhanced interrogated him. But Billy wouldn’t budge. This despite the Lieutenant Colonel pulling out all the stops. Intermittently he’d leave the room. (Canaan did not yet have a dedicated interrogation space, so he resorted to retrofitting the maintenance shed.) When he returned with the sweet old Mrs. Huey to play good cop to his bad Lieutenant Colonel, Billy still kept his cool. So Judd put him on ice. He left him there alone from fourth through sixth period, playing at full volume a selection of his favorite music, courtesy of the Margaritaville station on satellite radio. Still, Billy wouldn’t say a word. Judd was beginning to begrudgingly respect his adversary’s resolve. The boy had sand. He would know, having himself withstood an all-inclusive stay in a beach-front villa at the Hanoi Hilton. Then, in that exact moment that the Lieutenant Colonel was starting to admire his fortitude, without breaking eye contact, Billy farted, audibly and olfactorily. At this, the old fart finally went fucking ballistic. How’d you do it? You little pinko commie pissant! You’re not worthy of a Canaan Cadet! (The school had no military affiliation, he just liked calling the kids that. Cadets.) You disgust me! You’re scum! 

It went on like this for some time, until finally, like an old dog barking at the wind, the Lieutenant Colonel wore himself down. Billy, for his part, still hadn’t fucking blinked. So Judd returned his gaze with as much contempt as he could muster and asked one final question. The rhetorical type, that better not come with some smartass answer. He said, son, what do you have to say to yourself? Billy looked down in repose as if to truly consider this condescending query. Then he answered.

Whoop whoop.

What did you say to me, maggot? 

Whoop whoop. 

Are you whooping? 

Whoop whoop. 

God damnit, boy, stop whooping at me!

Whoop whoop, Ninja.

You will address me as Lieutenant Colonel!

Whoop whoop. [With these latest whoops, Billy gave a mocking salute.] .

Don’t play games with me, Mister Wolff.  

WHOOP WHOOP!

Stop it, I said! You stop it this instant! 

WHOOP WHOOP!!

This is your final warning! Cease whooping at once!

WHOOP WHOOP!!!

Nihilo sanctum estne?

Billy stopped. Suddenly his expression was sorrowful, as if he meant to convey, here is where it ends. I will fight no more forever. 

Now the Lieutenant Colonel paused, satisfied with himself. He knew the boy would break. They all do.

Do I have your unconditional surrender then? Go on. I want to hear you say it. I, Billy Wolff, am a gutless little worm, and I hereby submit. 

Billy leaned across the desk ever so slightly and whispered: 

Whoop. Whoop.

Expelled! Wilhelm Wolff the Third, I expel thee! 

#novls of tumblr #grateful dead #insane clown possee

[setternine-a]

would anybody want some colored rp icons like these? of any character

#probably eating cheese ╱ lulu. #dash is mostly quiet but LOL #i'll reblog this occasionally. #been thinking of coloring icons for people #or just making them in case they don't want colored #any size! or a banner #i just wouldn't be providing my psd #i'm thinking of going through with this #in a 'pay what you want' system #so people can just give what they think it's worth #is anyone interested?? #i'll make a proper post about it later #right now i just really would like to know if anyone is interested! #i can color any manga you need

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Hibiscus Kisses {1}

Chris Evans x OFC Ajali Rambaue AU {Ah-Jah-Lee, Ram-Bow}

Warning: Plot Heavy, Cursing, 

Words: 6.1k

Summary: Ajali decides on a rash decision to go on a Disney cruise, not for her love of Disney, but because she needs time to figure things out after things get even more complicated in her complicated life. She only expected peace, quiet, tropical drinks, and an overabundance of Disney songs. What she got was more than she bargained for when the cruise of a lifetime on the brand new ship Enchantment turned into a nightmare. The only saving grace is that she’s not the only one living through the nightmare. Can Ajali survive the test of a lifetime and the dangers ahead of her, and better yet, will she finally be able to live a little?

Note: Hey, hey, hey, guys! So here we are trying something different/new. I hope you enjoy this. 🤞🏽 Please feel free to tell me what you think. I’m super excited to explore this one with you all. 🤗 Also, what do you guys think of the title? What does it make you think of?

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG! ❤️❤️

I appreciate each and every one of your guys’ support and love!

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

**Very Interactive**

***French Language Incorporated w/translations according to Google***

“Yes, mom, I packed my charger and my vitamins. Oh my god, of course, I have my scarf. Mom!”

 Your mother continued to press you about things any woman would never forget packing. This was how she was normally. Almost morning, she would make her routine calls. First to your sister Atali, then to you. When she made it to you, she’d ask if you ate, and of course, by the time she called you, you were usually at work or on your way to it, and you wouldn’t have eaten. Then she’d ask you why you hadn’t eaten, to which she’d go back and forth with you about the importance of eating a well-balanced meal. Somehow that would lead to her asking how you expected to find the one when you didn’t eat enough. It was a never-ending thing with her. She was obsessed with you and your sister finding the one.

You understood. Your parents had been married for well over two decades, and they were still disgustingly in love. There was also no one like your dad, so you understood. They both saw what a catch they both were. After she told you the story of how she finessed your dad and got married in record time, it always turned into focus on you finding someone to marry. No matter how many times you told her that even though marriage was great and all, you weren’t in any hurry, it never registered.

 “Mom, I have everything I need. It is just supposed to be a two-week cruise.”

 “You’d be surprised the things you realize you left once you’re at sea. Then it will be too late,” Cynthia, your mother warned.

 “Then I’ll just buy it. Mom, I’m not going to the middle of nowhere. I am going on a huge ship from one of the world’s most reputable companies. I am positive they have every possible thing I could want to buy onboard. Plus, when we dock at ports, I’ll be able to buy much more.”

 “You’re always buying. Gah, I blame your father. He spoiled you and your sister rotten.”

 “I am not spoiled. It’s not like I haven’t worked for my money. Yes, daddy helped me set up my company, but I got where I am today because of me,” you professed.

 “I know, sweetheart, you don’t have to preach to the choir. All I’m saying is your daddy’s wealth only helped spoil you and Lali more. I saw it in you at the playground the most. You always wanted what the other kids were playing with. If it was a ball, you tried to take it. If it were the swings, you’d overtake it, toys in the sandbox my goodness those kids would end up with sand in their eyes and you alone with the toys.”

 “Some would call that persistence, hardworking, and assertive.”

 Your mother laughed then tsked.

 “I’m surprised that when you were in high school, I never got a call about you getting into a fight because you stole some girl’s boyfriend.”

 You pursed your lips, but as you were going to open your mouth to respond, your phone vibrated, signaling a notification.

 “Hang on, mom.”

 You thanked the Lyft driver for helping with your bags then checked your phone.

 MSG Javii: I’ve been calling you all night. Come on, Chaton (kitten). You have to talk to me at some point. Tu me manques (I miss you).

 You sighed and rolled your eyes. He had some nerve, you thought.

 “Ajali, hello!”

 “Yes, mom, I’m here. Sorry. I was getting my bags together.”

 “So, you’re really doing this?”

 “Yes, mom. Why wouldn’t I?”

 “Who goes on a cruise alone? What about the man I heard in the background of our call a few weeks ago? Why not go with him?”

 You rolled your eyes again, thinking about that man in the background a few weeks ago who was on your shit list.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was the tv,” you lied.

 “Ajali--,” your mother began before you cut her off.

 “—Plus, mom, it’s a Disney cruise,” you stressed.

 “Exactly. The people who go on Disney cruises are families, wives, husbands, kids. You are neither of them and have nether of them.”

 You balanced your phone on your shoulder and rolled your luggage toward the designated pier.

 “I just need some time to myself to clear my head and destress. Two weeks.”

 “Ignore your mother, my petal. You take the time you need. I’ve told you, and your sister working is important, but living is just as important. You don’t live to work; you work to live,” your father said.

 “Thank you, daddy.”

 “Plus, maybe you will find a worthy man on this cruise while you’re living,” your father slid in.

 “Oh god, not you too, daddy.”

 “We are unified in this, Lulu. He may wear the pants, but I control the buttons and the zipper if you know what I mean.”

 You tasted vomit in your mouth.

 “Eck! That is disgusting, mother. On that note, I gotta go.”

 “Wait, wait, enjoy yourself, my petal. We love you.”

 “Love you too, daddy, love you, mom.”

 With that, you ended the call and continued to walk toward Pier eighty-one. You passed families with rowdy children who looked like they couldn’t wait to get ice cream wasted, couples who looked as if they couldn’t wait to get to their suites and even elderly couples who were dressed to the nines for vacation, including already applied sunscreen and sunhats. Despite what your mother thought, Disney cruises were for everyone.

 You’d purposely chosen Disney because you didn’t want to be around other couples who were loved up and nauseatingly adorable, spewing love in the air. You wanted to be as far from that as possible. Love was the last thing on your mind. You were going on this cruise to get away from it. Your phone vibrated and went off twice.

 MSG Atali: Have you made your getaway yet?

 You stopped rolling and went to reply.

 MSG: Almost. I’m walking to the boarding line now.

MSG Atali: I think you’re doing the right thing. Space and time. In two weeks you’ll know what you want to do. I hope it’s what we talked about.

MSG: I know, Lali, I know.

MSG Atali: Have some fun too. It’s Disney.

 You could picture her face as you read it. She was probably cheesing at this very minute.

 MSG: Thank you for looking after the company while I’m gone.

MSG Atali: Boo, you know it’s my company too, right. Don’t worry; our clients will be taken care of. I’ve got it covered.

 You knew she did. Atali was the older one and had always acted like it, even though she was only nine months older. You knew she could take care of things on her own while you were away.

 MSG: I know, still. Thank you.

MSG Atali: You’re welcome, Lulu. Call me later. Margaret Bailey’s appointment is next. Apparently, she’s throwing some party, and she wants to be the envy of everyone.

MSG: Eck, you have your work cut out for you. Bye.

 As you were putting your phone away, another message came in.

 MSG Javii: Chaton (kitten), call me, please. Don’t you think you’re dragging this out a little?

 You almost said, “are you stupid” out loud. The man had some nerve. Dragging it out? You rolled your eyes as another message came in.

 MSG Javii: Je t’aime (I love you).

 Just like that, you melted. He was playing on the fact that your father was French, and the language itself was a favorite of yours. He was not a stupid man; he was a smart businessman.

 MSG Javii: I’m sorry. I know we’ve talked about it, but you have to give me more time. Please.

Unbelievable, you thought as you exited your messages and stuck your phone into your back pocket. You turned and ran smack dab into someone’s hard body.

 “Shit. I’m so sorry,” you rushed out even as you were falling back.

 A pair of strong arms grabbed you and firmly held you, preventing your fall.

“It’s okay, you’re lucky I don’t mind beautiful women bumping into me,” a deep masculine voice said. You knew it was a man, but you couldn’t see his face even though he looked to be well over six feet. His head was dipped low, and the hat he wore over hair that fell to his neck was so low you couldn’t see anything but the full beard that showed off a chiseled jawline.

 He set you right side up and slowly brought his hands from your arms back to his side. “Stay safe out there,” he said before he walked off.

 You stood there for a few moments, then looked back to where he’d walked and watched him saunter away. He had a slight dip to the way he walked that could either be seen as a happy go lucky type of thing or something that said he had some sort of swagger. Before you stared any longer, you sprang into motion with wheeling your luggage to the growing line to board the ship. Thankfully the line went quickly thanks to the ten different lanes that had ship staffers ready and eager to help guests.

 When it was your turn, a friendly-looking woman with a trendy bob cut explained what to do. While she talked, her smile never fell, but you didn’t really pay attention because her uniform was so distracting. She had on a purple and green hat that had mermaid scales and Ariel printed all over it. This hat matched the shirt and skirt combo she wore. Her shirt was two-toned, on one side was Ariel’s face, and on the other was mermaid scales while her skirt was plain white. It looked like The Little Mermaid threw up all over her. You didn’t expect anything else; it was a Disney cruise after all.

 After doing all the check-in steps, such as handing off your rolling luggage to the ship porters and taking a photo for your provided identification wrist band that the crew will use to identify you and your indicated needs, you boarded the ship. All the friendly faces you passed all looked happy to welcome you to Disney Cruises and to direct you to where you wanted to go. The noise inside was much louder inside than it was out. The kids that looked excited outside looked downright jubilant inside as they posed for pictures with life-sized Disney characters and got welcome ice cream treats.

 You were even tempted to take a picture or two, but you decided against it. What you did not decide against was ice cream. You took an offered vanilla cone and kept on your way, looking around the ship as the other guests did. From your research, this was the best-rated cruise this year. It was a newer Disney ship and one that cost over ten million dollars to design and build. Everyone said it was the Rolls Royce of Disney cruises.

From what you saw with the décor looked to have cost a fortune. There was glass, fancy lights, and marble everywhere. It was clear they didn’t skimp on funding and clear that they had the comfort and luxury in mind. There were plants around the central atrium that gave off that tropical vacation vibe and even paintings and pictures hanging on the walls that further pushed the agenda that this was supposed to be a fun time for all.

 The more you walked around looking at different areas, the more you were impressed. If the gathering areas looked this upscale, you were even more excited to see your suite.

 “Can I help you with anything, ma’am?”

 You shook your head and smiled at the man wearing Hans all over him. “I’m all right, thank you.”

 The next thirty minutes or so were spent walking around while following the map in your hand. You found and noted where the spa, library, on-ship garden, movie theater, bowling alley, tropical setting wave pool, and best restaurants and bars were. You had every intention of soaking up all the luxury that you’d paid top dollar for. When you saw a few amenities that you hadn’t expected, your jaw dropped. You had no idea why there was an ice skating rink or an indoor sky flying dome that had the tallest clear tube you’d ever seen. You didn’t know who’d designed this cruise, but you knew it must have cost millions. You were sure you wouldn’t be getting in that sky flying dome.

 When you finally got the alert that your suite was ready, it was well after one in the afternoon. The walk among the crowds was noisy. Everyone was either talking about what they wanted to do first, how enormous and beautiful the ship was, or making a plan for the cruise duration. In between all the chatter, there of course, were the screams and cries of babies and toddlers who were already losing their shit.

 This is what you’d expected when you decided on this Disney cruise over another like Carnival or Norwegian. You knew that the other passengers would be of a specific age range leaning on the younger and family-oriented side, which meant you wouldn’t have to fight off unwanted suitors who tried to shoot their shot. It also meant that you wouldn’t have to deal with any sort of drama that usually happened on a cruise with young adults all looking to hook up. That was not what you needed right now. You wanted to stay as far away from hooking up or eligible men that had blue eyes or a perfect head of hair, or abs that were chiseled by Michelangelo himself, or an ass that would make a mannequin jealous.

 On the elevator ride to your floor, you caught the eye of an adorable little boy with a complete head of luscious dark locks and doe eyes with an unmeasurable depth. His smile was innocent. Every time your eyes met his, he hid behind his mother. When you looked away, he looked back at you. After two or three playful back and forth glances, which had him becoming more adorable, you surprised him by not looking away. When he realized it, his squeal was so childlike and filled with so much glee that everyone on the elevator had to giggle. Over the next several minutes, the passengers on the elevator got off group by group until it was just a few people remaining.

 “Sixth floor,” the elevator attendant announced.

 You made your way through the door but gave the adorable boy a look. “Have a fun cruise, cutie,” you said with a wink before the doors closed with the sound of his giggles. You looked at your phone to remind yourself which room was yours, then glanced at the numbers on the wall that directed you where to go. The dinging sound of an elevator brought your attention down the hall to your right to see one man walk off. His hat was dipped down low, but you noticed his face was buried in his phone before he turned and walked in the opposite direction of you.

 Focusing on the signs on the door, you walked down the left side of the aisle. It didn’t take you long to realize your room was at the end of the hall. Once you reached it, you glanced back to see the same man with his tipped low hat. It looked like the same man from before outside the ship. It couldn’t be, you thought. The odds were not that small. As you opened your door, you saw him disappear into the room at the opposite end of the hall.

 Once you walked inside, you immediately thought that this was what you got when you had Atali handle the arrangements. The theme of the room was clearly sky blue. The couch in the living area was a satin, silky sky blue that looked as if it was plush and comfortable. It matched the blue and grain colored carpet before it perfectly, and the abstract blown glass art on the wall. The colors all worked together to give you a sense of peace. It wouldn't have been something you’d chosen because, unlike Atali, you liked to keep things as low maintenance as possible. Just because your family had money doesn’t mean you had to look or behave as if you did.

 When you walked into the bedroom portion of the stateroom, you saw your suitcases waiting for you in the far left corner of the room. The sunlight pouring in from the screened balcony bathed the room in a beautiful, cheerful yellow that was so inviting that once you kicked off your shoes, you had to step out into it. The temperature was not blazing hot because it was just the middle of April in New York, and that meant a mix of chilly and warm days with the occasional possible snow shower. The salty air of the sea was one of your favorite smells. You remembered when your father took your family to France on your yearly family vacation. As a child, you loved the beach and the salt of the sea. When you became an adult, nothing had changed.

 Not realizing how long you remained on the balcony, an intercom announcement came on.

 “Attention passengers, this is Lucas Albright, one of your captains. It is with great pleasure that I welcome you aboard this Disney Enchantment Cruise.”

 He paused, and you could hear the uproar of cheers and claps from over the intercom as well as in the halls and neighboring staterooms.

 “We are all excited to host you on this two and a half week christening journey from New York. I say christening because you lot are the first to travel on this brand new ship. This is her maiden voyage.”

 More cheers and applause came for what felt like forever.

 “We will be on this beautiful vessel for two days, at which time we dock in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic at approximately eleven o’clock in the morning, where you can enjoy plenty of the excursions and activities for the day.”

 Again applause followed. Everyone was undoubtedly excited about this cruise. You tried to get out of your funk and onboard the excitement train.

 “We will then set sail again, leaving port at ten o’clock that evening and moving on to two days at sea until we reach our second destination of Port of Grand Turk in beautiful Turks & Caicos. At that time, we dock at eleven 0’clock and lift anchors at ten o’clock. From the beautiful Turks & Caicos, we will be at sea for two days until we reach the tropical breezes of the British Virgin Islands!”

 You were already making some mental plans for everything you wanted to do at each port.

 “After spending out eleven o’clock to ten o’clock time there. We set sail to the glorious white sandy beaches of—Arrrruuuba!”

 At that time, the classic Beach Boys song Kokomo came on at the Aruba part. It was so corny, but everyone seemed to love it. You shook your head as the short clip of the song played loudly until it was lowered to play in the background.

 “Again, we’re docking at eleven o’clock to set sail again at ten o’clock. We are then at sea for three more days until we get to Ocho Rios, Jamaaaaica!”

 As he spoke, you went around the room, placing things you’d need and freshening yourself up. When he finally finished giving the itinerary, you were situated and checking the schedule of events for the day. All in all, it was set to be an action packed seventeen days at sea. Atali must have chosen this length because she knew seven or ten days would not be enough time.

 “All right, ladies, gentlemen, kids, and big kids, I hope to see you all at the welcome mingle we’ve scheduled to begin within the next twenty minutes or so, at which time we will lift anchors and say sayonara to New York and aloha to the seven seas.”

 He had a voice for radio or a game show. It was velvety deep, just what many women seemed to like these days. You grabbed your phone and crossbody bag and walked out of your room. You had a mission before you lifted anchor. Everyone was still abuzz with talk of the itinerary as more of the beach boys played over the ship speaker system. Vacation vibes were in full effect. Once you got to the media area, you promptly purchased your airtime so your cell would be able to work while at sea. You knew your mother would have a heart attack if you went two days without checking in with her. You didn’t think it was because she was that attached to her children though, you knew it was her motherly duty to remain up in the tea, so she felt continuously connected. As she got older and older, you realized it more and more.

 As soon as that mission was completed, you made your way to the top deck where the mingle was being held. As you stepped out into the sun, you marveled at just how extravagant Disney had chosen to go with this ship. Several feet before you stretching obscenely high into the air, you saw something that looked like a rollercoaster. There were plenty of other passengers pointing to it and excitedly chattering about it. You made a mental note to stay as far away from it as possible. Who would think to ride an insanely high rollercoaster on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean?

 Slowly you walked around the deck, cordially smiling at those you passed. You passed a bar area and took one of the prepared cocktails, and proceeded to find a good spot at the side of the ship to watch them lift anchor. After several minutes of searching and bumping into all the excited kids and passengers who were posing for pictures with friends, family, and Disney staff, you found an excellent spot to press your back against.

 Across the way, a familiar hat caught your eye. It was him, you thought. He always kept his head low and tried to steer away from big crowds. It was strange to you considering he’d chosen to get on a cruise ship filled with hundreds of people. He wouldn’t be able to escape the crowds. Your eyes followed him as he walked to another bar to grab one of the drinks there. As he did, he joked with the bartender, and it was then you saw a flash of his pearly smile. You couldn’t tell if he was attractive or not, mostly since all you’d gotten were glimpses of pieces of his face. Part of you wanted him to take off the stupid hat so you could be sure, but the other part—the sensible part that remembered why you’d chosen a Disney cruise slapped your ass back into focus.

 “Welcome, Disney guests!”

 In response, everyone around you screamed, clapped, cheered, and stomped so loudly the sound could have rivaled that of a rave.

 “We are pleased to welcome you once again!”

 As one of the staff members continued to speak about the ship procedures, expectations, highlights, amenities, and more, you continued to look around the deck, taking in all the grandeur before you. It didn’t take long to get lost in the directory you held. Again you took note of where everything was that you wanted to experience and even went as far as to make a plan of what you wanted to eat each night. Between you and Atali, you were the planner. You liked things to make sense and liked them to be stable and constantly reliable. You hated the erraticness of people and impulsivity. You always tried to steer as far from it as possible.

 By the time the speeches were finished, you’d had three drinks and were working on your fourth. The vibration of your phone brought your attention to it.

 MSG Javii: Chaton?

 You rolled your eyes and sighed out a little louder than you intended. What attracted you to him in the first place was what was annoying you right now. His persistence. You sat in a nearby seat and stared at the text exchange and thought of what you wanted to reply. Five minutes passed with you not typing one word. The truth was you didn’t know what to say. You were that jumbled up. The stress of it all was making your head hurt. You rubbed your brow and began your message.

 MSG: I need some time away.

 Instantly a message came back.

 MSG Javii: From me?

 Bobbing your head from side to side, you tried to make a quick decision.

 MSG: From this—us.

 MSG Javii: Chaton, say what you mean. You know I prefer directness. Do you mean from me?

 MSG: Yes.

 A few minutes passed before he sent another message. You wondered if you’d hurt him. Part of you didn’t want to hurt him, but the other part wanted him to suffer and see what it was like to be without you. Maybe then he’d start appreciating what he had.

 MSG: I just need to figure some things out.

MSG Javii: Are you breaking up with me, Chaton?

 The name was killing you, and you were sure he knew it. Every time he called you “chaton,” it made your belly flutter.

 MSG: I just need time and space, Javii.

MSG Javii: I love you. You know that, right? I love you more than anything.

MSG: If that were true, I’d be there right now instead of where I am. I have to go.

 You closed your messages and sighed out again.

 “Mm, I can easily read that expression, and if any man causes brow or forehead wrinkles, he isn’t the one.”

 Your head snapped to your right to see an older woman sitting there. She wore a straw hat atop her long red hair that looked close to that of Lucille Ball’s. The hue of her hair complimented her bronze and gold complexion. Her makeup was expertly done, as was her purple painted nails that pinched the straw that was at the corner of her mouth, a mouth that was painted perfectly accentuating her cupid’s bow lips. She was gorgeous.

 “Uh--,” you began as she continued.

 “The only one who is worth it is the one who gives you cheek wrinkles and smile creases.”

You grinned to yourself and took a sip from your glass that was resting on the table between you.

 “Trust me. I’ve dated plenty of men, ones who cause both, ones who cause one more than the other and ones who only cause one—the bad ones.” She motioned to the space between her eyebrows, symbolizing stress wrinkles from furrowing your brows.

 “I have yet to meet one who only causes smile creases,” she finished.

 You shrugged and looked glanced back to your phone before you put it on the table face down.

 “Maybe that one doesn’t exist on this Earth,” you countered.

 “A skeptic, I see. You’re one of those women who don’t believe in the one, right?”

 After scoffing, you looked at her. “I don’t know what I believe. Once upon a time, I did then---things got complicated.”

 The woman placed her drink down and nudged her fist underneath her chin, giving you her complete attention.

 “Oh, complications are the joys of life, darling. Nothing is ever cut and dry or so simple and steady. I say go for the ride but make sure you hand on for the bumps.”

 You contemplated her words. There was some logic there, but once she said nothing was simple or steady, you had to admit your heart skipped a beat. You hated when things weren’t simple. You took your glass again and finished its contents. At the same time, your eye found the man who’d caught you maybe an hour ago. You watched as he walked closer to where you were seated and caught another glimpse of his face before he passed you.

 From beside you, you heard the woman whistle.

 “I wouldn’t mind going for a ride with that one.”

 Your laugh was loud and couldn’t be stopped. You shook your head at her, but she didn’t look one bit embarrassed or remorseful.

 “It’s a cruse darling, a vacation. Now’s the time to live a little—or a lot,” she said, finishing with an exaggerated wink.

 This woman was inadvertently suggesting you let your hoe flag fly for the duration of the cruise. She reminded you of your aunt Josephine from your father’s side. As a French woman, she definitely embodied the French lifestyle of only living once and to live life right the first time. You’d spent countless hours with her listening to her stories of her travels, boyfriends, escapades. You and Atali always loved to live vicariously through her. That was until Atali came of age and decided to live just like her.

 You sat with this woman who introduced herself as Genevieve and listened to her stories of life and love. Usually, you hated speaking to strangers, but she didn’t feel like one. She felt like a kindred spirit, a much more carefree spirit but still kindred the same. You didn’t realize that two hours had almost passed with the two of you sipping cocktails and giggling. When you said your goodbyes, you wandered around the ship, taking in all it had to offer. You peeked in on activities that were already underway and scoped out other places you could disappear in.

 You made it back to your room in time to shower, change, and put on a lite layer of makeup before you made it to dinner at one of the forty restaurants. Once you walked into the restaurant, the atmosphere screamed luxury though it was not opulently done. It still looked family-friendly, but it was done in a way that let you know that you were meant to feel important by the décor alone.

 At the bottom of the long stairs, you quickly looked around, trying to find an empty table. When you’d zeroed in on one, you saw a hand waving you down—the hand of the same woman from before, Genevieve. Why not, you thought to yourself before you began to cross the dining area toward her. Within a few steps, you ran right into a body that felt like a brick wall. You could feel your body falling backward, but in the nick of time, a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around your back, holding you in place.

If his face had been eluding you all day, it was not anymore. The eyes you stared into were blue enough that the sea you sailed would be envious. His lips were so red that an apple would want a rematch for bragging rights and his face so symmetrical that even the perfect line of symmetry didn’t seem perfect enough when next to him. The man was gorgeous. You watched his eyes roam your face as if he was in no rush, wanting to take in every detail. What felt like minutes was probably only seconds before he set you upright. As you were prepared to speak, he smiled, and the action had you feeling like you’d been hit in the head at the same time as your gut.

 “Twice in one day. What’re the odds? Are you okay?”

 Rather than speaking, you nodded.

 “Are you sure?”

 “Yes, thank you. I’m—I’m sorry,” you stuttered.

 “Nah, forget about it. No harm, no foul.”

 From behind him, you could see Genevie giving you a look that said she wanted to know what was being said and who he was.

 “I uh—I was going that way,” you said, nodding your head to behind him.

 “And me that way.” He nodded behind you. “Stay safe out there,” he uttered before he walked off in the direction you’d just come from, giving you the opportunity to walk to Genevieve.

 The look on her face needed no words to along with it, but she still spoke.

 “Is that the same snack from before?”

 You nodded and nearly snorted out, hearing her use the word.

 “What’s his name?”

 “No idea, but I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before. I just—can’t place it.”

 “I don’t know how. I’d never forget a face like that.”

 She had a point; he had an unforgettable face, one that stayed with you and possibly could haunt your nights. You bet he got whatever he wanted and whoever he wanted. As dinner progressed, you had your choice of different appetizers, entrees, drinks, and desserts. If one wanted Scandinavian food, they could get it, or southern food it was within reach. As you ate, you listened to more of Genevieve’s stories. She told you about the men she’d dated, the things she’d seen in her years, and lessons she’d learned from those men. The moral you learned from her stories was love often, love hard, and love entirely because while you’d remember the pain, you’d remember the love more.

 As you ate and listened to her, you couldn’t help but think of the reason you were on this cruise in the first place. You were not running to love but from it. If you were to listen to Genevieve, you should have stayed your ass in New York and gone to Javii. If you listened to her, you’d probably spend another year living in sin. By the end of dinner, you’d met three other women all within the same age range as you, but they all were in different times of their lives. One was newlywed, and on her honeymoon, the second married a year and expecting her first child and the third long married with three children.

 It was an interesting look at alternate timelines for you. Any of them could have ended up being you if you’d only made different choices. Part of you wondered which one you wanted to be more, your natural self, or one of the three possibilities.

 After dinner, you made your way to one of the theaters to watch the planned show for the night. It was a re-enactment of The Little Mermaid, and the audience was filled with little ones who clapped and cheered throughout. You were surprised at how well the staff performed. They could have easily been true broadway stars. A little more than halfway through the show, you found the stranger with the deep eyes across the room. He was sitting alone, just watching the show with a relaxed look on his face. He looked as if he were genuinely enjoying it. Your curiosity was piqued as to why he was sitting alone watching The Little Mermaid on a ship full of people and why he didn’t seem to be bothered to make acquaintances. Who came on a cruise alone? Once you thought it, you wanted to laugh at yourself. You were the one to come on a cruise alone.

 As you were about to look away, his eyes found yours. At first, they looked empty as if he were looking right through you. Then after a few moments, there was a spark in them. You watched him raise his glass to you with a soft smile teasing his lips. Realizing you’d been caught looking, you curtly nodded back then looked to the stage to focus on the show.

 Two in the morning. That was the time when you finally made it back to your room. Festivities were going on all around the ship. No one seemed as if they wanted to go back to their rooms. There was something for everyone. The little ones had endless activities, including a sleepover with their favorite Disney characters, where they were set to have plenty of fun for the night. There was a mixer set up like a rave on the opposite side of the ship for the adults. From the things you saw when you scoped it out, you were sure a few siblings were going to be conceived tonight.

 As you scanned your bracelet and opened your door, you looked back to see the stranger again. He was looking directly down at you. You gave him a head salute and disappeared inside your room. After a quick shower, you found your way to your balcony to watch the waves roll by with a glass of wine. It was the perfect end to the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. Please check that you are taggable. I’m sorry.***

#hibiscus kisses fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #chris evans x ofc #slow burn fanfic #angst fanfic

[windupnamazu]

if you give a babycorn a mushroom

ffxivwrite2021 #05 (free day): cherry-pick

⮞ lunya & @calcorn_brina's babycorn and cherrypit. 829 words. ⮞ who knows when this takes place. i sure dont ⮞ when paired with the starsinger siblings, you might expect lunya to only have to worry about one of them. babycorn and her stomach intend to make assumption incredibly wrong.

cherry-pick: to select the best or most desirable.

"Cherrypit, spit that out."

"Mmf?" the little boy mumbled around what Lunya was only 33% certain was a poisonous mushroom but still wasn't willing to try the odds on. She lifted him in her arms—thank the gods he wasn't as fussy as his sister—and forcibly removed the offending fungi from his mouth, replacing it with a Benefic down his throat.

"You can't put everything you pick up in your mouth," Lunya warned him gently as she flung the mushroom into the undergrowth. "It can be very bad for your tummy." Cherrypit bobbed his head, the little bells on his hair-tie jingling as he did. Another stroke of genius on her part—it was much harder to lose an eternal toddler in the woods when he was a perpetual noisemaker.

On her other side, Cherrypit's sister dropped her own possibly poisonous mushroom onto the forest floor in horror. A very obvious bite mark was pierced into its cap. "You can't? It can?"

"No, Babycorn, you really can't!"

"But I thought this is how foraging works!" the younger Lalafell wailed, sinking to her knees. As she did, she caught sight of her fallen mushroom covered in dirt once more. "...And it looks yummy…"

Lunya fought back a hurricane-level sigh of equal parts affection and exhaustion. Cherrypit she could understand. Her own little brother swiped dust off a windowsill and ate it when he was the same age. But Babycorn was only a year younger than her and seemed to have corn silk in her head instead of any semblance of logical thinking. It was a miracle, really, that they'd survived up until she met them.

Babycorn slammed her head to the ground, facing her mushroom with the most heartbroken expression Lunya had ever seen on her. She might have been drooling. Lunya worried for the Starsinger siblings. She really, really did.

"Lulu, snack," the boy in her arms demanded now that she'd confiscated his last one, looking at her with what might've been puppy eyes. It was hard to tell when his eyes were basically glass spheres.

Lunya glanced up at the canopy, squinting at the bright sunlight that filtered between the leaves of the Shroud. It did feel close to lunch. She sat down on the grass and let Cherrypit clamber off her lap so she could unfold the cloth bundle she pulled from her satchel—there was a grand spread of fruits, cheese, and crackers inside, and Cherrypit immediately dove for the grapes. Babycorn finally got up and shambled sadly over for her own treats, evidently having accepted that Lunya probably wasn't going to heal her if she ate the mushroom anyway. As they snacked, Lunya pulled out a large tome that definitely didn't seem like it should fit in her satchel.

"We're looking for hen of the woods," Lunya reminded the siblings as she opened the book to a dog-eared page. "Hanabi told me she misses eating them, so we're going to collect some for tonight's hotpot!"

"Hen, like a chicken?" Babycorn visibly brightened. The entire left side of her face was covered in dirt and other forest floor specialties like dead leaves, but Lunya wouldn't bother cleaning her up since she'd likely trip into a puddle before the bell was up. "There's chickens in the forest?"

"They're mushrooms." Lunya shot the younger girl a glare when she opened her mouth to say something about her last mushroom and lifted up the botanical illustration of the fungi in her book. "Edible, non-poisonous ones. Hanabi called them maitake—it means dancing mushroom in Hingan."

Cherrypit shoved the last of his grapes in his mouth and chewed for about three seconds before swallowing. "Dance!" he gasped as soon as he did, waving his slightly-too-big sleeves in the air. "Lulu, dance? Dance!"

Babycorn paled as she examined the painting. "They have legs?"

"Not like that, silly. And no." Lunya ruffled Cherrypit's hair with a grin. "Apparently, people used to dance in excitement when they found them in the woods. So when we find them, we can do a lil dance to celebrate. If you want to see me dance, though, I'll put on a show whenever you want, Cherry!"

The little boy let out a babbly cheer. By then, all that remained on the cloth were crumbs and grape stems and some apple cores, which Lunya wrapped up and tossed back in her bag before they all stood and prepared to crawl deeper into the woods.

"Alright, are we ready to go?"

The two siblings cheered, startling a squirrel off its branch as they dashed up ahead together through the brush. Lunya giggled as Babycorn enthusiastically pointed every single mildly interesting thing out to Cherrypit. It made her miss her own brother; maybe next time she could invite Taro. Were teenage boys too cool to hunt for mushrooms with their sisters..?

"Ooh, Lunya, I think I found one!"

"Babycorn! Babycorn, that is NOT a mushroom, that's a FROG! Spit it out! Spit it out!!!"

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #tales from the warriors of light #oc: lunya #babycorn #cherrypit #im playin catchup /sprint

[minniespage]

What I did yesterday

This is what I did yesterday guys the Amazon locker info is going to come up probably tomorrow or Monday, because I am kind of picking packages up today🥺

So I woke up pretty early and made my bed I wash my face I don’t really wash my face too often so doing this was really a good thing. Oh and brush my teeth and stuff like that

I made a grilled cheese and a smoothie bowl for lunch while eating I decided to go on YouTube and watch some fun content.

I braided my hair

After that I decided to play dress up and random dance replay.

I also made a new friend who wants to be crayon pals. I’m really excited about that because I’ve never had one and I think will be really fun. I’m really excited about that honestly because one of my favorite things to do is make gifts. Speaking of gifts I decided to draw and color some froggy‘s for my future gifts( this wasn’t only exclusive to my crayon pal LuLu but also to my other friend whom I’m going to see at the end of the summer hopefully)

I did some online shopping kind of I didn’t shop I just browse through Amazon. Because I really want these kitten socks but then I’m trying to decide if I should save money for the pros because I want those for my birthday ( In November) and I also think I found a good way to get myself a little packages using the Amazon locker which is great I know I talked about it briefly but I wanna talk about it some more but not here in another post

I also decided to private my small Instagram I thought it was the best choice because I don’t like to post on there because I don’t want anyone to see my face and out me so I’m thinking maybe a private it for a while and once I get comfortable posting I will un private it. I think I’m not gonna tell my friends about it because I have a feeling that it’s not gonna go well….

I also had an interview or a orientation for a job so I’m really happy about that and I signed up for summer classes yesterday as well

Overall yesterday was a very good day today was an OK day as well but I really preferred yesterday than today.

I do have to make a post showing my journal but I want to journal some more before I show you guys so yeah

Also does anyone know where to get a really nice Dino plushy because I want to get one but I don’t know where to look? -🥺

#agere blog #agere community #age regressor #little space #cute #sfw little one #sfw agere #agere #my day

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

Coffee Shop au part four

(Segment one of three)

If I forget to tag something important please tell me.

(Present day)

(Small warning Acylius does use those he tortures for food for other demons and non mortal creatures to consume so if you have a problem with that then um just keep scrolling I guess ^^; )

What was this…that strange feeling of disappointment at seeing Black Hats chair being vacant; after all he’d only been there twice so it was not as if he was a regular customer, especially as they’d only been open for two days.

Why should the old demon stay until closing time anyway, just because he did it on the first day didn’t mean he’d do it again today, he had no reason to stay…Black Hat had been rather forward though, kissing him like that, not that he was complaining but , he wasn’t one to just play around and be used.

Friends with benefits was one thing, at least you knew where you both stood, and yet still, why did it feel so familiar, an old dream perhaps, after all who didn’t at least have one wet dream about the great Black Hat doing sordid things to your body right.

Especially with tentacles, while wearing priest robes.

Yes he had his kinks, but damn you if you tried to shame him for them.

He huffed, shoulders going slump, no this was ridiculous , feeling sad just because that idiot of a Gremlin just upped and left without so much as a good bye, Hat didn’t owe him anything and he didn’t owe Hat anything either.

Clearly he was crazy, he had finally fucking lost it, thinking of The Great Lord Black Hat owing him a good bye and a kiss on the cheek as if they were lovers, he’d just met the bastard.

No he needed to either relax or worry if the destroyer of worlds was going to ruin his café that’d he’d always wanted with his mischievous downright evil antics.

Acylius was currently grinding up their latest victim, a man who’d been abusing Nicodemus’s workers (don’t worry if you don’t know who that is I won’t be bringing him into this unless I need him for like filler scenes)

Body parts in neat piles on the counter top, ‘pork’ pies were on the menu tomorrow, this was Black Hat’s island so even the people knew some places the menu would cater to demons so if they saw the chalk was in red they knew it was demon cuisine, though of course there was always the daring person who’d ask for it anyway in which a waiver definitely had to be signed.

Hey, wasn’t going to be Acylius’s problem if they decided to off themselves on food that probably wasn’t for human consumption.

This particular man had been a pig and he was serving sow next week.

Vile beings needed to meet a vile end.

This was going to be a long night, he could manage though, at best he could manage on two nights of sleep during the week.

Currently the head of the meat sack was animated and still alive, the man was so far gone he’d reached that point of acceptance that this was happening and nothing could be done, so seeing his body being prepped for pastries and such was more amusing than anything.

“I’m a Legion demon Jake, that’s your name right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, anyway as I was saying I’m a Legion demon in this day and age that means nothing to most unless you are perhaps ancient or still follow the old ways, I have nothing to offer thee Great Lord Black Hat.”

Jake watched as the demon deboned, removed a hand and of his shaved one of his arms before washing it down to make sure all the hair was gone before slapping it into the mince meat maker.

“Last I heard your kind was like some kinda lucky charm right dude?”

“Yes, but he does not need that from me, if we did anything he would be interested in me for all of five minutes and bail, he is all shadows and darkness, I will literally spend weekends in my boxers eating cheese puffs if the week has been hard enough, hardly a turn on for someone like Black Hat.”

Acylius snapped while working on another piece.

“I dunno, some beings like to see their partners being able to feel that chill around them, but hey that’s just my jam you know, anyway stop whining, this guy is old as shit right, you don’t know, your Legion demon shit might actually put a huge boner in his pants.”

Jake taunted, smirking as he watched his killer bristle up, oooo hooo sensitive much.

You know those scenes in anime’s where the other character suddenly gets really tall, shadows where their eyes should be and their hair seems to just be blowing in the wind and there’s that broken glass sound sometimes.

That’s Acylius’s reaction as his mouth turns into a ground out grin that’s splitting wider and wider along where the scars are, ironically that injury is the reason he can smile this wide now when the demon in him starts to show.

Jake was going to die, he was already he dead he knew it so why not torment him just a little more and get it over with

“Awww no I know what it is baby demon, you want a daddy you can suckle on and-

Acylius brought the meat tenderiser down on Jake’s head repeatedly until there was only pulp left, brain matter and blood were splattered across his apron with a few deep scarlet streaks going across his cheek, how brightly the red stood out against the snow white skin.

He was staring at the mess he’d made, panting softly, pupils thin and biting his lip, alright maybe he’d enjoyed that a little too much, he frowned though when he saw the pies had been covered to, well perhaps they would still be salvageable.

Scraping the remains of the head into the bin marked biohazard he pulled the bag out and set it down getting rid of other pieces he no longer required, tomorrow non human waste disposal would be picking up the remains anyway.

Demencia had caught the show and was leaning on the door.

“Looks like you got a little too into that Lulu, sure you don’t want to tenderise me on the surface.”

(NOTE, Acylius’s nick name Lulu was made last year in November 2019 because my friend had trouble pronouncing his name, so I tried to think of a name that he’d only let close friends and loved ones call him and that’s where that comes from, not Helluva boss, just thought I’d point that out as there’s a Lulu world and Loo Loo land)

“Not now Demencia, I’m not in the mood for your jokes.”

Acylius ran his fingers through his hair, regretting it once he remembered oh yeah covered in blood; a shower would definitely be needed before bed.

“Ah I see, so the head got sassy huh?”

Flug, because yes reminder Acylius is Doctor Flug, paused at the backdoor and pouted

“Might have, he also said some very offensive words that I did not appreciate.”

Demmy folded her arms, shaking her head and smiling

“Well you showed that head who’s boss, now hurry up binch I want my cookies and hot chocolate, it’s late.”

Flug lovingly gave her the finger as he walked out the door while telling her she had two hands she could do it herself.

The back alley was dimly lit, not that he couldn’t see or choose to focus his vision to see clearer but sometimes it was nice just to appreciate light that softly glowed and curled around corners to take in the world in all different ways and settings…oh he missed rain, there hadn’t been any in nearly two months now, he missed how things glowed, street lamps became brighter and car lights so red and vibrant against the grey trailing along winding roads of shimmering black.

Perhaps it would soon when the snow had melted, he’d go for a long drive and listen to the rain hitting the roof of his car, patting against the windows, listening to the quiet tick, tick, tick of the vehicle when he switched on the indicator.

Yeah just drive out the middle of nowhere, strip down and run in the rain or just let it soak into his clothes as his breath streamed out in wispy clouds…

Ears twitching he heard a late party of drunks making their way home, he watched them pass by, they were completely unaware of him, if he were perhaps a rabid sort of demon they would be easy pickings, but that was not his game, at least not tonight, there was no scent that told him a wrong doing had been done, just a group of friends heading home for bed.

Snow had fallen in the tracks left by the bustling day life of the people around here and now in the silence he wondered was he lonely, Demencia’s offers had sometimes had been all too tempting simply out of need for comfort and to be close to someone, sometimes it seemed she needed it just as much as he did when they’d just lean on each other and complain about their day.

Looking up he found someone watching him from the shadows, well more saw a pair of eyes, completely yellow, no white to be seen, oranges and reds, as if he were looking at the sun, shivering as a breeze rolled through he pulled down his sleeves, goose bumps rising, a tingling down his spine, just the little things that reminded him he was alive, he was not afraid of what lingered in the shadows, there was no sense of danger.

Perhaps they were a Legion fan , someone caught off guard by his appearance, after all Flug knew his scars could be quiet unsettling to some people…though come to think of it he did sense an air of fear about this being, still they were wide and unmoving.

Really the sensible thing to do would be to just go inside and ignore this creature, yet something kept him there a longing to talk to it, placing the garbage into the bins he smiled just a little

“You know stranger, you remind me of someone…someone I feel like I should know.”

Acylius’s ears lay flat as he heard them softly whimper, it sounded so sad.

“I am sorry, I was not being offensive I assure you, this person I speak of was very kind, at least he was in the dream, I dreamt when I was little , funnily enough a night like this, Mother had locked me out…”

He held one hand in the other looking at them, fingers curling around his thumb

“My fingers were so cold and red I could barely feel them, or the rest of myself to be honest…heh you probably do not want to hear the tired ramblings of an out of date demon.”

“No, please continue.”

There was silence again, that whispered voice, it comforted him, made him feel at ease, this indeed truly was a strange day.

“Mother had locked me out, I didn’t cry or beg her to let me back in, I knew she would not open the door, so I laid down cheek to the snow, despite being almost numb my face burned, my face…”

Tracing along his scars as he recalled the moment could not help but wince

“I had to be careful still they had barely healed by that point, but I remember how good the cold felt on them, red and angry they seemed to only be satisfied when pressed to the freezing earth, I knew that night or at least believed I was going to die and…I was alright with that until I saw a pair of eyes just like yours.”

Acylius took a step forward only stopping when he saw this being step back

“They were gold, I thought they were so beautiful , I thought maybe the angels we were told about were not so bad if they could come for something like me, his claws hands reached down for me but I didn’t see his face, all I heard was that I was coming home with him and his name…his name was…”

Acylius held his head in his hands, scrubbing them down his face

“His name was Cruentus.”

When he looked back at where the eyes had been there was only darkness, the demon in the dark had disappeared so quickly he wondered for a moment if they’d even been there.

No, nope, nope, that dream was not real, that being was not Cruentus, it was all coincidence and he was just exhausted, yes that was it, perhaps he should sleep tonight, or maybe he’d snacked on too much of Jake while he was working, or had too many sugary treats either way, it was pies in the fridge and off to bed.

Opening the back door he locked it behind him, ignoring the fact Demencia was chomping on one of the pies, after all she knew what was in them if she wanted to eat it that was up to her, his mind was elsewhere.

“Mmmm you tenderized this one good, Legs, nice and juicy.”

Usually her friend would react to that name, at least grunt or gently nudge her and tell her not to call him that, something was clearly bothering Acylius.

“Legs?”

Demencia asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder, only for him to turn and pick her up by the front of her shirt, snarling as he did so

“Do not call me that name!”

Looking down at him, Demencia could really see something wasn’t right here, was he remembering something to do with that name, like it had always annoyed him, but that glare, the disheveled hair and fangs all bared …honestly in another situation he would be hot as fuck…alright she was already thinking he looked hot as fuck but this was not the time or place.

Touching Acylius’s face lightly, she watched as his ears flicked, his breathing was ragged, his eyes returning from being solid blue to having pupils and irises again, her hands were warm and comforting and he found himself leaning into them, lips pressed against her palm…she was there to ground him in his bad moments and he could never thank his friend enough for that.

“You mind setting me down you tree.”

Demencia laughed softly.

He carefully set her back down and pulled her in for a hug

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I would never hurt you, never.”

Nuzzling against his chest and wrapping her arms around him, patting his back

“Hey, hey now, none of that you dumb tree, I know you have gaps in your memory, did you remember why do you don’t like that name?”

“Hate, I don’t just dislike that name, I hate it…all I can hear is someone called Vincent and they make me curl up and die, I have no face only a voice, if I ever heard it…I would know…”

Flug was quiet, taking in just how small she was against him, reminding him how small most were against him like this, his talons formed, slowly stroking her hair, playing with the fuchsia overlay, down to her neck where it faded to lime green, such an interesting choice of colours to wear in ones hair.

“You already know I just appeared back into existence, as if the world itself birthed me, I was somewhere forgotten…and seeing Black Hat today, I think…no it is a stupid notion to think he could see me as anything.”

He kissed the top of her head, thankful that she had not let go, Demencia was the one being who never seemed to be afraid of him, who he knew he could trust and rely on in these moments where memories were trying to break through the surface and suffocated when they could not make it.

“I am a Legion demon, no more than a trinket in the end, I am a nothing in his world and I am okay with that, I have a nice peaceful life and a coffee shop just like I always wanted…”

He sat with her on the counter, as she sat on one of his thighs

“This is just a hug, you don’t need more right?”

Demmy enquired, slightly hopeful because who didn’t want to climb him, honestly, he was an idiot for not seeing he didn’t need to be some grand demon to be wonderful.

“Yes, just a hug…I wish I could say I grew up in a loving home with Christmases like in the movies, that I could tell you my life’s story, talk about a time I scraped my knee when I was small and had a mother who put cute cat plasters on me just because I like cats.”

She listened and let him stroke her hair, it’d always calmed him to pet soft things, so perhaps she might use shampoos that were just a little pricier than she’d usually buy simply to make sure her hair was soft for these broken moments no one else saw.

Even though he was not sobbing, made no notion he was crying, the damp warmth on her shoulder told her otherwise.

“I want to tell you the times my Father took me for ice cream, my first kiss with the person I fell in love with, something…anything, but there’s nothing there.”

She listened attentively until he had nothing left to say, carefully taking his hand from her scalp; Demencia held his face and looked at him

“Damn Sillyus, they really did send you back with nothing more than a leaflet.”

“I suppose, but I have so much to thank you for, when you found me on that street, I only remembered enough to get by, to survive, but you helped me to settle into this time and be a part of the modern world.”

Acylius kissed her forehead before pressing his to hers, eyes closed as he whispered

“I’m so tired of being lost, of being unsure of what I am, who I am, I just want to bake, make coffee and kill people in my basement, I think fortune smiled on me for a moment when you found me, I think I might just give you the world if you asked.”

“Awww come on dude, sounds like a love confession here, I have bills to pay off and knew there was a darker side in me, you’re the Sweeny to my Lovett.”

She teased fondly, lightly smacking the back of his head, smiling as he managed a laugh

“I guess I could agree platonically with that.”

“But honestly Slender Man, babe if you wanted to plant your tentacles and leave your seed in me I wouldn’t say no.”

Acylius rolled his eyes and shook his head, using a tea towel to wipe his face

“Honestly woman you are bloody hopeless.”

“Yeah but you love me all the more for it.”

She grinned punching him playfully on the shoulder

“Perhaps I do, but I am not as hot as you like to say I am, I hide my face, I hate when people look at my scars and pity me.”

Demmy raised a brow and climbed off of his leg, flicking his forehead

“I know you like to hide your face behind glamour and tricks but you’re beautiful even if you don’t see it dumbass, I’m starting to wonder what the fuck happened outside that had you coming back in as if someone stole your last apple crown and there’ll never be another one again on the face of the planet.”

She put the kettle on and took out the upside down pineapple cake; this was definitely a cake and tea situation

“First of all, do not say such blasphemous things, life would not be worth living without apple crowns, second of all…I think, I know I said there’s nothing there but I think I might have had a memory about my childhood involving Cruentus.”

Demencia nearly dropped the mug she was holding, setting it down she turned to face him

“Holy fucking shit, you mean thee fucking Cruentus, Hellhound butler, Hell Knight, works for the brooding clearly wants you to nail his ass Black Hat, that Cruentus…ahh I hear he has eyes like the fucking sun.”

Acylius gave her a deadpan look, hands on hips as he stood, looming over her, trying to look seriously only for it to falter

“You Demmy are just horny on main.”

“So what if I am? Gonna call me a slut like my last partner?”

She swatted away his playfully prodding hand.

“No, I never understood why it’s perfectly fine for men to have as many partners as they wish but seen as something terrible when a woman just wants to enjoy her life the same way, society is mad…also no more jokes on Black Hat you wicked beastie.”

Demencia would be lying if she didn’t admit his ability to shift from one mood to the other sometimes made her head spin, but it was clear he’d needed that moment to talk, shrugging she turned back to the kettle

“Alright, alright I’ll behave at least for now, I mean it’s clear the big bad doesn’t want you, how could he possibly want you…even though anyone with eyes could see he kept checking you out and every single coffee you brought him in hopes your stupid number was on it somewhere.”

Demencia couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at his sounds of huffing and frustration and heard him sit at the table, she did know there was stories, legends really by this point of Cruentus having a son, but you literally had to pour through footnotes and any books that might have had more information had been removed from shelves and privatized under the order of Black Hat himself.

End of segment one

(I'll try and type up segment two tomorrow)

#Paperhat #Platonic paperlizard #Mild cannibalism #villainous #Villainous au #Blood #Gore #Coffee shop #Present day

[heavenisahope]

teenage dream //

@ohdarling​ // chey x joseph

It was the pinnacle of spring: that time of year when the mud was all dried up and everybody started to eat outside again. Advanced placement tests were over and even teachers were losing motivation to do their jobs, hungry to end it just to start all over. With less than a month left, junior year was practically over, and yet it was the start of a few brand new things for Joseph. 

For one, his parents finally let him get a fucking car. He didn’t have to promise great grades or anything, just to stay in school and balance out his days off so he wouldn’t be knocked for truancy. (Notice, they knew he wouldn’t be able to not play hooky every now and then, so it was pointless to make him promise 100% attendance.) His black Maserati Granturismo finally got shipped in this morning, and he drove that baby to school, practicing utmost self-control to keep it a secret from Chey. 

For two, basketball was over, and even though Port Aransas didn’t take the state championship home, they got pretty damn close. And Joseph got to see Dallas for the first time with Chey. It was time to start practicing soccer again, even if most of it came second nature to him anyway. The fields were mowed and the nets were put back out, and he was probably going to get into another fight with one of the football players for turf again. 

For three, Chey had been his girlfriend for a few months now. And, judging by their on-again off-again track record, that was pretty fucking long. It was complicated: When they first started dating, Joseph never made it official -- he just kept messing up. Only around the time of homecoming did Joey decide to ask her out. Though they always felt like a fleeting thing, he couldn’t shake the taste of permanence on his tongue whenever they kissed. 

And finally, the sun. Texas was a sunny place in general, but when it rained, it rained. It was good to feel the warmth on his skin again, remembering what the color yellow felt. 

But that car. 

He rushed through the lunch line in the cafeteria, slapping a five dollar bill on the counter before winking at Lupita, the lunch lady. On his bright red tray, he had his favorite meal: a greasy slice of pepperoni pizza, some chili cheese-flavored Fritos, an apple, and a sliced fruit cup, but for Chey. He shoved a can of Coke in his cargo shorts’ pocket, and it felt a little heavy to carry on one side, but he pushed out the glass doors to the picnic tables outside. 

He saw Chey sitting at one of the tables underneath the huge cherry blossom tree. Kirk, Ben, Luna, Rory, Lulu, and Beckett were there, too. Cohen was sleeping on the ground next to them, and Kirk and Beckett were trying to see how many cheese puffs they could drop on his face before he stopped thinking they were just petals. 

“Hey, idiots,” Joey said, sitting beside Lulu and across Chey. He tossed her fruit cup onto her tray and winked at her. “And beautiful lady. -- Better eat quick, ‘cause I got a surprise for you, and I wanna get outta here before anybody notices.” 

#ohdarling #int: joey #joey x chey #001: teenage dream

[gladiasama]

how they are when they drank too much

i know, this is a dumb title lol should i write for like for unità speciale or maybe passione? idk

Risotto:

ouuh, you need a lot of drinks and alcohol to make him a little dizzy. If there is a miracle, you can see him with pink cheeks, his face on his hands. You think maybe he will not say anything coherent but no, he's perfectly clean and remembers who you are for him.

when you are in the street to return at home, surprising, he'll only hold your tiny hand in his big palm. He’s not very into pda with you, mostly when he’s in public like that!

when you return at home, you pull back his bell hat and his black coat for him while he fall asleep in his comfortable and hot bed. you caress slowly his face when a tiny and shy smile draws on his lips. You blush and kiss his alcohol flavor lips. Cute capo.

Prosciutto:

not a simply drinker: he'll not drink some beers or wines that everybody can buy. No. Will literally explode the budget: 700 dollars a little bottle of wine? Yes darling, of course. He’ll pay attention that anybody won’t drunk his bottle or he’ll be angry lol. When he’s drunk, he is a little more joyful with you but his temper can change in one second. Don’t let him approach Ghiaccio, they will fight until death.

when you return at your or his house, he’ll only pass his arms on your shoulders and probably rest on on it. His buns are completely undone, his alcoholic breath sting at your nose when he tried to kiss you. 

at your/his house, he kicked back his expensive shoes and will directly lay on his bed. He began to talk about his life, about the fly which was in the window, just about everything. Shut up and sleep on me darling.

Pesci:

he doesn’t like alcohol so much, he finds it too much bitter and hard for him he prefers milk of course so when you take him drink and eat, he remembers Prosciutto’s advices which tell him to be a man and not drink child’s drinks.

so after 2 or 3 full glasses of alcohol, his head is on the table and when someone try to talk to him, he’ll scream and shout at them with an angery voice, just, don't talk to him maybe leave him alone and he'll come to you because he feels lonely and in bonus don't make him drink again.

at your house, he'll probably pounting because he's angry and doesn't know why. He'll calm down a little and will regret about drank too much glasses for him because during all the evening, you had to calm him down so you couldn't relax around a good glass also you had to take care of a drunk Illuso who was bullying by pinneaple guy.

Formaggio:

ouuuh huge drinker. But also cool and cute man. He needs a lot of drinks to make him fall to the ground and sleeps. Buy everything he likes even if the alcohol cost a little too much. If you want, he'll let you drink his glasses while he stares lovely at you. Tiny babe.

it will take a looong time for you to return at home. He has to put his arms on your shoulders while you put your hands on his hips. He put all his weight on you while he tries to kiss you and poke your cheeks with his fingers. Cute little cheese man.

you can't sleep during all the night, he'll cry because he wants to be with you during all his life and he doesn't realize that you are with this little cute cheese forever. Problem: he thinks that you are a stranger and not his lover so good luck to make him go down from his shelf. Also he cries during all the night because he wants to kiss and hug his pretty lover.

Illuso:

he'll drink when he needs: feels sad? Go to drink with you but all the squad will come with you too, thanks Melone darling. He can drink everything but prefers sweet things or probably tries and drink some drops of your drinks. He thinks the glass has a better taste with your lips on it.

please, protect him. Drunk Pesci bullies him by pulling his cute ponytails while he's crying your name, tears on his cheeks. He feels so lonely when you leave him like 5 seconds to make Melone wears his clothes that he removed, so he'll cry again. Just, hold his hands and kiss him to go to home.

there is a big chance that he'll put his arms around you while his head rests on your chest. Pat his hair and he'll fall asleep when you remove the tears on his skin. Oh don't cry lulu, you never let him alone.

Melone:

you have a long day so go to a bar with Melone. Even if you don't want, he'll put you on his bike while drive you on a bar that he is not on the black list. He'll kiss you by surprise while you drink at your sweet drink. Wink wonk, tries to drink what you are drinking. No sweety, please don’t.

there are 2 possibilities when he drinks too much: he can strip and try to walk naked in the room so it’s a big problem or there is a big chance, like 95% of chance that he’ll sit on your legs or hips and kiss you. Maybe he’ll just kiss you, lick your face or something like that, wriggle a lot on you or if you are lucky, he’ll just fell asleep on you. Good luck because you have yo carry him in your arms at home. He tries to make a dirty dance on you.

he hugs you while he sleeps, so no way that you can escape. Throw yourself on the bed, he’ll lay on you and put his head between your neck and shoulders. You just have to take care of him, pamper melon boy and if he awakes, he’ll show you all his love and affection ;)

Ghiaccio:

don’t drunk too much: only when the squad go to drink, he’ll just follow because he doesn’t want to be alone poor kitty. He’ll drink harsh and strong alcohol only to prove to the others that he’s not weak and can hold alcohol. Wrong idea to take a lot of whiskey glasses.

He’ll fight and hit Prosciutto because he said that kitty doesn’t drink that but milk, like kid. Foolish. You have to separate them so you leave the bar with Ghiaccio before everyone so you can take care of him and help him relax after this fight. He’ll scream in the street.

he needs to expel all the energy he reserves in his body so give him a pillow and he’ll hit until he fall asleep like a cat. Pat his hair, cheeks or behind his ears and pull his ringlets in your fingers, he’ll be a putty while sleeping. Cute, protect him please.

Sorbet and Gelato:

Like Ghiaccio, they follow everyone or if they boring, they will drag you on a little isolated bar with strange men. PDA. A lot of PDA. Gelato will sit on Sorbet’s laps while his head is on your shoulders and you HAVE to pat his hair. Its a need for him. Sorbet will maybe let you drink a little bit of his drink but won’t let Gelato boy drinks its: he can drink it in 2 sips. 

because of the fast sips he takes, Gelato is ill. First, he only says to you that he doesn’t feel good so be gentle to him. 15 minutes later, you have to accompany him to the toilets, 2 seconds later, Sorbet and you pat his back while he spew all his stomach. Sorbet hold the alcohol pretty good so you don’t have to take care of him. 

sorbet needs to held him on his back while you open the door of your house. Gelato is such a baby so strip him, make him lay on the bed, kiss him etc. Sorbet will probably try to sleep with you but Gelato doesn’t agree with you, Sorbet had to share you with him even if he’s sick, so hug him too, he’ll smile on your skin. Sorbet has to sleep on the sofa, Gelato kicks him far away while he cuddles with you.

#jjba #risotto nero #risotto #vento aureo #prosciutto #pesci #formaggio #illuso #melone #ghiaccio #sorbet and gelato #sorbet #gelato #gelato and sorbet #jojo part 5 #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo's bizarre adventure #golden wind

[voldiebuns]

HalLUDOween!!

So last weekend I went to HalLUDOween, aka Ludo's one night only, first time in six years concert! They're my favorite band and since I didn't think I'd ever get to hear them again in concert, of course I had to go. Even if it was in St. Louis, an approximately 11 hour drive from home lol But @biffelderberry and I figured it would be worth it, and it so was :D

We started out early Friday morning since it was going to be a long drive and we had to pick up a rental car since neither of our cars was up to such a drive. Of course we found out like an hour into the drive that the model we got had had a recall put out that very morning, but thankfully we didn't have any problems with it. The drive was actually not too bad, despite being so long and being mostly a drive through boring wilderness. We'd put together an approximately 13 hour playlist, so we had plenty of music to sing along with. And we made lots of stops at Taco Bell so I could get their potato tacos bc I'm apparently obsessed lol I ended up eating Taco Bell for every meal Friday, which was probably not a good idea, but it tasted fucking awesome.

(Me, left, and Biff at the beginning of the drive.)

Made it to the hotel around 8 maybe. There were two guys from Chicago in the check in line in front of us who we think may have been there for the concert as well, but the cool part was when we went down to breakfast in the morning, we met two other ppl who were there for the concert! They were from Wisconsin and California, so it was cool to talk to them for a bit about how much we all love Ludo and were so happy we were getting to see them again. We'd planned to use most of Saturday to explore St. Louis, since we'd come so far anyway. We'd wanted to do a ghost tour, but that didn't end up working out, but we did do a few other cool things. We went to an antiques store where we couldn't afford anything, but it still had some really interesting stuff. Then we went over to Grand Street, which I gather is kind of the popular downtown street. We ate at Lulu's Local Eatery, which is a small, hippster-y vegan place. I got the mac n cheese and Biff got the sliders, both of which were fucking delicious. Also very filling, which was a little disappointing bc we'd hoped to share the carnitas loaded tots after lol After that we went to a nearby comic book store. The owner was super nice and we talked to him about Ludo a bit (I was wearing my Ludo shirt) bc apparently everyone in town knew about this concert lol He'd had some other ppl in earlier who were going, I think from New York? Or maybe Arizona. We basically spent the whole weekend hearing from ppl in town about ppl coming in from out of state for the concert. Anyway, after that we did a little more walking around, mostly bc we wanted to look at all the pretty trees, and then went to Walmart to pick up some food (they have a So Delicious cashew milk chocolate cookies and cream ice cream that is to die for!). And crosstitching stuff bc Biff wanted to do an AO3 inspired bookmark design, and I thought it sounded fun as well. Also got some face masks bc why not. Which actually turned out not to be the best idea... When we got back to the hotel, I tried out my clay mask and it didn't go well. I did put a little too much water in it, but I don't think that accounts for how I apparently had an allergic reaction to it. Seriously, when I took it off, I looked like I had a rash all over my face. Thankfully my makeup skills were enough to cover it up, but I did end up sitting with a cool cloth on my face for awhile just to be sure the only reaction was the rash. Here's a picture of me post concert with half my makeup wiped off (the red side was waaaay better than when I first took off the mask):

So got ready, blah blah blah. And then it was time for the concert!! Costumes were encouraged, but since we didn't actually bring any, we just dressed up. My outfit of the night, which I loved bc I'd been waiting for an excuse to wear that crop top:

We took a Lyft to and from the venue since we didn't want to deal with parking or driving back at who knew what time. Which was probably a good thing bc the whole area around there was packed. More so for the second show, where the lines were literally down the block, but even for the first show. Bc of my trying to deal with a sudden allergic reaction rash, we were running a little late, so we got there like halfway through the opener. He was pretty good from what we heard, so I'll probably look up his music at some point. We had assigned seats in the balcony, which I was really glad of even if they cost more than GA down below. We would have had to get there hours early to get a good place there and would have had to stand, which I really am not up to for long amounts of time. But our seats were actually really good and we had a fantastic view of the stage. Except for the railing being right at eye level lol Since the concert was Halloween themed, they of course had some Halloween elements for the stage and their costumes. There were a couple of big, glowing blow up ghosts on either side of the stage. When the show started, about a dozen ppl came out in sheet ghost costumes and ran away around for awhile until it was just the band and they took off the sheets to show they were wearing skeleton onesies. Which I really really want one of now tbh.

Here's the vid I took of the intro. It was honestly so so awesome to see them in concert again. The first and only time I saw them before was in 2011, which was right before they basically broke up (ie they all just drifted away to other things and the band was no more). They did pretty much the song set that I'd been expecting, though there were a couple of things they sang that I hadn't expected. (They'd done a poll on twitter with Topek, Girls on Trampolines, and a couple of others, so since Topeka won I wasn't expecting them to play Girls on Trampolines.) And they did my top three favorite songs of theirs! Including Andrew going solo on my absolute favorite, Horror of Our Love! I took a vid of that too of course, which you can prob hear both Biff and I singing along to. They ended the concert with a cover of the Ghostbusters theme song and having a bunch of kids come out to throw candy to the crowd, which was a fun way to end it. There was no new music, aside from the two covers they did, which I think all of us had been hoping for. Even though we knew it was unlikely since the week before was the first time they'd all been in a room together in years. Still, the music and the experience of being part of the crowd was just as fantastic as last time. So yeah, the concert was amazing all around and totally worth the ridiculous drive :D After, we went down the block to the merch store, bc there was definitely no way I was leaving without something. We stood out in the cold for an hour waiting in line, which was fine except for the couple behind us was being really critical of the show and really annoying. We found out the reason it was taking so long was that the band was in the merch store talking to fans and signing stuff and taking pictures, which I hadn't expected. Of course their handler started telling them they needed to leave basically as soon as we got up to the front of the line. But! They were being pretty slow about it bc they wanted to keep talking to the fans, so Matt, the drummer, ended up at the door at the same time we were and he gave us hugs! He also said thanks for coming again, which made it sound like he recognized us? But idk. Anyway, as awesome as that was, the best part was apparently the girl behind us really wanted a hug from him and we were the last ones he hugged before leaving. Vengeance is sweet :D Anyway, I ended up with a t-shirt and a poster for the concert, plus a couple smaller ones from previous tours that they were giving away for free. There was a really cool tree print that I wish I would have gotten, so I hope they put that up online. There was a vinyl of the last CD as well that I wanted, but I really didn't feel like I could justify that as well. Maybe they'll put it up online too.

We took a Lyft back, which was a bit of an experience bc we had to cross the street to get to our ride and some asshole apparently was tired of waiting in traffic and tried to speed around while we were in the crosswalk. He stopped in time, but Biff really thought he was going to hit me :/ But we made it back to the hotel safely and met the lady from breakfast again. We ended up talking to her for awhile, which was fun bc she's been following the band for a long time and is apparently knows them personally bc of that. Sunday morning we slept in a bit bc we'd been out so late. We were both very glad we had decided not to drive home that day lol We went back out to Grand Street and had lunch at Lemongrass, a Vietnamese place there. I got the tofu summer roll and sesame tofu, and the sesame tofu was seriously good omg. After that we did some more walking and went to a bookstore we'd seen on Saturday. It was really cool and had a pretty fantastic variety of stuff spread out over three levels. We met a local Ludo fan there (we were both wearing the shirts we bought) who hadn't gotten to go to the concert and talked to her a little. Afterward we went over to the St. Louis Art Museum since they were supposed to have a textiles exhibit that sounded really interesting. We didn't end up finding it, and we only got to stay about half an hour before they closed, but it was still really fun. Plus they had some gorgeous views out front, some beautiful fall maples, and a statue of, apparently, Saint Louis.

We thought about going to the zoo after that, since it was literally across the street, but they were having some Halloween event and there were hundreds of small children everywhere. We decided that wasn't something we wanted to deal with lol So we went and picked up lunch from Fred and Ricky's Plant Delicious Foods, a lttle vegan grab and go place, instead and took it to eat at the hotel. The food was pretty good, though probably the best part is that I found out they ship nationwide, so I can order from there sometime if I want. Which is nice bc we really don't have many vegan places here. Monday it was time to leave. Because the drive home was long and we had to get back before the rental place closed at six, we got up at 5 am to head out. It wasn't too terrible, but we were definitely still tired. And I fell coming down the stairs with my suitcase and bruised my ass. It still hurts :/ Drive home seemed longer than the one there, probably bc I didn't really want to be going home lol It's so interesting how every time I go away for a fun weekend, it hits me when I get back how much I hate living at my house and in my city and in Texas in general. So I guess good motivation to try to find a way to move out sooner rather than later. So the weekend was fantastic! There were a few other places we would have liked to go, like the City Museum and some more vegan restaurants, but overall we hit some good places and had a lot of fun. Plus just the landscapes up there were so so pretty. We don't have trees like that in Texas lol But we're definitely thinking of going back to St. Louis sometime to see some more stuff. And maybe see Ludo again, if this concert was a sign of things to come! But of course it coudn't be all good. My throat was feeling a bit scratchy on the way home Monday, and by Tuesday I was pretty sick. Thankfully I had the whole week off plus Monday and Tuesday this week (I'd been hoping to go to a Star Trek meet up this weekend, but I couldn't afford it after all). I'm hoping I'm well by the time I go back to work, but it's been kind of a sucky way to spend my time off! But still worth it for Ludo lbr :D

(If you want to see the food pics I took, they’ll go up on my food blog: @foodandmind)

#Ludo #Ludo Rock #HalLUDOween #Night of the Living Ludo #personal #literal GPOY #image heavy #long post

[maryofone]

Basic

No one wants to be called basic. In the last decade or so the word basic has really been cemented in our culture as something that no one wants to be, and yet a lot of people are.

The funny thing about the word basic is that the definition for it isn’t bad at all. Basic means fundamental; an essential foundation. We all have basic features to our lives – like basic needs, basic desires, basic requirements – and we’d probably all agree that a lot of basic things are great. We just don’t want the entirety of our character to be defined as basic. Because that shit’s a diss.

There are a few things that instantly come to mind when I hear the word basic. Uggs, pumpkin spice, yoga pants. We’ve come to see this as the ‘basic bitch’ uniform, and a lot of us make fun of it. Sometimes even the basic girl herself will call out her own basicness. It’s like almost an insult, but the basic girl will never actually change her behaviour because of it. She’ll just laugh it off and buy some more lulus. So it can’t be that bad to be basic.

Being basic isn’t bad, it’s just predictable. It’s the stuff in your life you don’t have to think about. Like the clothes you wear or what you eat. Like the basic bitch uniform is so popular because nowadays athleisure wear is the easiest way to feel comfortable and look good. Yoga pants are such an obvious choice to satisfy a basic need, millions of women wear them constantly without even thinking about it. Sure we may all look like a bagillion little spandex-clad clones, but whatever. No one should spend too much time thinking about pants.

Then there’s Starbucks. Home of the basic beverage. People want caffeine in the morning and somewhere along the way Starbucks opened up two locations at every intersection in North America; so the easiest most unconscious choice we can make on our way to work is to grab a fucking Pike Place. Bit of a side-rant here, but on the subject of basic-ass Starbucks, I’ve always had a chip on my shoulder when it comes to them. Not because I don’t like their coffee or ceaselessly exhausting marketing. I just don’t like what they’ve made people consider to be a basic daily need. Do you know how many people are going to start their day today with an artisanal breakfast sandwich and giant muffin full of fucking cream cheese icing? A LOT. At some point Starbucks quietly convinced us that we should be eating dessert for breakfast and consuming 2000 calories before noon. Of course they weren’t the first to inspire this but at least when you eat at McDonalds you know you’re eating at McDonalds. The name is synonymous with unhealthiness. But Starbucks has convinced people it’s a sophisticated establishment inspired by the simple pleasures of a European lifestyle. Meanwhile they’re inching everyone just a little bit closer to heart failure every morning. And I don’t fucking appreciate that shit.

Starbucks isn’t the only beacon of basicness in our culture. To me, Home Sense is the fucking mothership of basicness. We’re all guilty of it, myself included, because dammit sometimes you’re just looking for a giant scented candle and you know that Home Sense will have 17 for you to choose from. Home Sense has all of the shit you've suddenly decided you need in your home, but don’t want to spend a lick of time or effort trying to curate. So fine. It has all the stuff you want to buy mindlessly, and it all looks the same, and every other suburban home in the country has some version of a sepia landscape stretched over canvas hanging in their garage. I get that this is an impulse for a lot of people, but it still bums me out. It especially bums me out when people plan trips to Home Sense with nothing in particular they’re looking for. They’re literally just deciding to add some basic shit to their apartment because they’re bored.

Again, basic isn’t bad. It’s just predictable.  And I don’t hate on people who make predictable choices, I hate on people who only make predictable choices. You can rock all the lulus and lattés you want, as long as you’ve got some weird, wonderful, one-of-a-kind shit happening in some other corner of your life. Humans are too interesting to just be about the basic shit. Every time I see a girl with a PSL I hope she’s into BDSM or something.

#words #Post

[littleharpethcrossfit]

Thursday, 24 June     KB Warmup.....Power Cleans.....5 Little AMRAPs.

A typical warm, humid summer afternoon at our Barn.

 Warmup:     20 Single Arm Alternating Kettle Bell Swings / 5 (R) / 5 (L)  Kettle Bell Wind-Mills.  Look up Wind-Mills.     3 Rounds

Why do I even post a warmup?  The people (Elites) who need a warmup most are the ones who do them least.

The odd exercises stimulated some interest.  One person (Sue) actually searched the exercises and learned how to do them.  More people than usual were seen attempting the warmup.  

Strength WOD:

Power Cleans:       2 Reps EMOM  X  12 Minutes     Increase weight as you go

Brendan=235     Chase=205     Larry/Robert*=200     Timmy=190     Dana/Herb/Chad=155          Tom=125     Coach=115     Angel=105     Linda/Sandy/Sue=85     Sam/”AWESOME”/Carolyn/Krystal/Sandy and some others=no post

The WOD:     5 Rounds

2 Minutes Work  /  1 Minute Rest

Run 200 with a MedBall     (Elite=20)

Max Hang Power Cleans in Time Left     (135 E / 95 / 65 )

Score:     Total   Hang Power Cleans for the 5 Rounds. 

Elites:

Brendan=83     Chase=76     Robert=70     Larry=67

Rxers and others mixed in:

Dana=96**     Sue=81     Timmy=77     Coach=75     Linda=66     Chad=60     Tom=52     Angel/Herb=50     Carolyn=41     Sandy=20     Sam/”Awesome”/Krystal and some others=no post.

Notes:

A fine wine tasting followed.  Miss Linda brought some cheese that I probably can’t afford, and some Cheez-its that I can’t afford to eat.  There were 4 fine and varied white wines and 5 great reds.  

Old Tom was embarrassing.  He turned on his fakey Sommelier skills and his Frenchified accent as he repeatedly over-poured poor Mrs Jarnigo’s wine glass.  Fortunately Larry had plans with the Grandparents and was able to rescue his lovely wife before anything bad happened.

Warren A has joined Paul L as recent withdrawals from Whats-App.  Old Tom of course blames our falling membership on my crotchedy personality.  I reminded him that LHCF is a free affiliate and by definition is a money-losing hobby.  One of the last things I want for LHCF is for me to spend more of my fixed income in a hopeless effort to attract and maintain “athletes” who prefer a younger coach in an indoor gym with a competitive atmosphere.  Adios.

Robert will be leaving us again for awhile.  He and his wife are going to some intensive marital counseling and prayer meetings at a clothing optional retreat in the wilderness of far Northern California.  Several of us asked him to please consider our needs while he is gone.  In his new capacity as an elevated Vice President we thought he could afford to up-grade the free clothing he smothers us with.  Mrs Jarnigo found out that he has tight connections with LuLu Lemon.  We have hopes that he might replace this Nike crap with LuLu.

Saturday at 0930.              

[baereaved]

It’s field trip day for all of the noah kids and daddy Earl needs to pack everyone lunch before he sends them off to school. What would be pack for each of them? (You don’t have to do all of them)

i live for this ask. i love the idea of the earl personalizing homemade lunches for them like that. this is the best ask i’ve gotten today. also, no matter what foods i’m about to list, i want to say that he does include loving/inspirational notes in every lunchbox

road: any sort of entrée (like a sandwich or mac and cheese or egg rolls), some celery with some peanut butter, and some trail mix with like, pretzels and dried fruit and stuff. snacks like that. also usually some sort of dessert, like a cookie or a brownie, with a note on it that says she should eat her other food first before eating her dessert. also a juice box and maybe a bit of candy reserved for her to have later on in the day

tyki: multiple fish sandwiches, some beef jerky, a whole fruit of some kind, and a bottle of water. or maybe he gets some strawberry milk. or both. tyki’s always roughhousing and the earl wants him to stay hydrated & have good bones

sheril: i’d think a fancy pasta entrée, a well-dressed salad, probably some strawberries, maybe a bit of cheese and chocolate, and some sparkling water. he might also get a breath mint at the end bc he wants to feel fresh

wisely: a nice cup of vegetable soup or stew, some tater tots, a granola bar, some chocolate milk, and an apple. nothing too complex and the earl tries to stick to easy foods for him

jasdero and devit: a few chicken nuggets, meat and vegetable kebabs (with blunted skewers, for safety), some pre-sliced fruits, probably some pudding, and something like gatorade to drink. flavors and sauces vary for each boy

lulu bell: tuna salad and some milk. also some red grapes

i could probably keep going for the rest of them, but for the sake of post length and also running low on ideas, i’ll stop here. thank u for the ask!

#ask #anon #this is. the best ask #i loved this ask so much it was so fun to answer and so cute and silly. a+ #crane hcs

[setternine-a]

i haven’t participated on munday it has already been months so here’s me today trying to put on some eyeliner for the first time in what feels like forever

#PROBABLY EATING CHEESE ╱ LULU. #y'all: dis bitch a ghost? #dis bitch: yes. #alright time to celebrate my boy's bday...

[maddie-grove]

I was tagged by @motherofkittens94!

last

1. drink:  Diet Dr. Pepper.

2. phone call: @saucespider.

3. text message: boyfriend.

4. song you listened to: something on the radio...I think it was “Way Too Good at Goodbyes” by Sam Smith.

5. time you cried: a week ago?

— have you ever…

6. dated someone twice: yes.

7. kissed someone and regretted it: not really.

8. been cheated on: not that I know of, but I have some suspicions.

9. lost someone special: yes.

10. been depressed: I think so.

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: yes.

— fave colours

12. green.

13. blue.

14. red.

— in the last year have you…

15. made new friends: yes.

16. fallen out of love: kind of, a couple of infatuations ended after I got dumped.

17. laughed until you cried: yes.

18. found out someone was talking about you: no.

19. met someone who changed you:  yes.

20. found out who your friends are: I wouldn’t say that exactly, but I sort of detached from a couple of people I suspected didn’t like me much.

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list: yes.

— general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl: the vast majority--the only exceptions are someone I did contract work for (we communicated by phone/email) and people I thought I’d met in real life because I’m bad with names.

23. do you have any pets: I have cat who lives with my parents, and I live with a cat and a dog who are owned by two separate people.

24. do you want to change your name: no.

25. what did you do for your last birthday:  went to an Indian restaurant with my family.

26. what time did you wake up today:  9.

27. what were you doing at midnight last night:  ...I’m pretty sure I was having sex? WOW.

28. what is something you can’t wait for: seeing my parents and the bitty on Saturday!

30. what are you listening to right now: no music, but someone’s using the shower.

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom: I’m pretty sure I have, but no specific Toms come to mind. 

32. something that’s getting on your nerves: my inability to figure out international law.

33. most visited website: probably tumblr.

34. hair colour: brown.

35. long or short hair: long, just short of waist-length.

36. do you have a crush on someone: boyfriend.

37. what do you like about yourself: sometimes I’m really funny.

38. want any piercings:  I’m good with my ears.

39. blood type: A-?

40. nicknames: Em, Lulu (last one’s just my mom, though)

41. relationship status: I have a boyfriend.

42. sign: Sagittarius.

43. pronouns: she/her.

44. fave tv show: Freaks and Geeks.

45. tattoos: none.

46. right or left handed: right

47: ever had surgery: yes, tonsils and some kind of dental surgery (teeth in wrong order?).

48. piercings: just ears.

49. sport: not my thing.

50. vacation: the last one I went on was to the beach in South Carolina. I’d like to go to Spain.

51. trainers: I wear them mostly for running.

— more general

52. eating: I had soup (minestrone) and a sandwich (pimento cheese) for dinner.

53. drinking: Diet Dr. Pepper.

54. i’m about to watch: I’m going to start the new season of A Series of Unfortunate Events once it’s available. 

55. waiting for:  Godot?

56. want: time.

57. get married: maybe?

58. career: civil rights lawyer and/or writer.

— which is better

59. hugs or kisses: kisses.

60. lips or eyes: eyes.

61. shorter or taller: don’t care.

62. older or younger: older, but mainly because I’m 27 and people younger than me seem really young.

63. nice arms or stomach: arms.

64. hookup or relationships: relationships.

65. troublemaker or hesitant: troublemaker.

— have you ever

66. kissed a stranger:  yes.

67. drank hard liquor: yes.

68. turned someone down: yes.

69. sex on first date: yes.

70: broken someone’s heart:  probably not.

71. had your heart broken: mildly.

72. been arrested: no

73. cried when someone died: yes.

74. fallen for a friend: yes.

— do you believe in

75. yourself:  I guess.

76. miracles: not literally, but figuratively, yes.

77. love at first sight: yes.

78. santa claus: I mean, St. Nicholas was a real guy, right?

79. angels: I’ve honestly never thought about it, but I guess not.

— misc

80. eye colour: blue

81. best friend’s name: @saucespider

82. favourite movie: oh, God, is it Blue Velvet? I think it might be Blue Velvet. Or The Sound of Music.

83. favourite actor: I don’t know.

84. favourite cartoon:  Home Movies.

85. favourite teacher’s name: Professor MacAlister.

Tagging: @saucespider, @adreadfulidea, @wildcard47 if you want to do it.

[well-hidden-hot-mess]

small win in a super high anxiety time

so i’m on day 19 (?) of my altered version of 75 Hard and for most of it I’ve had a positive outlook and have been feeling good and strong (despite it being shark week and having plateaus when there shouldn’t be any with the amount of activity and calorie deficit i’ve created with it but i digress) but yesterday was one of those days where all the positivity was gone and i was back in a super depressed/anxious state. i started the day off well with a great weigh in (a 1.6lb loss after a few day plateau), did my skin care/teeth routine, put on my lulu align pants and my favorite fabletics sports bra so i was super cute and comfy and felt good about how i looked/felt in it, put some makeup on because my anxiety has turned my picking at my face/neck/chest to the extreme again (which is super frustrating but whatever), had some yummy oatmeal with almond butter, cinnamon, and maple syrup, drank/took all of my supplements, drank some of my favorite alani nu blue slush energy drink, life was good and my day was off to a great start. that’s when it set in - that invisible forcefield that kept me on the couch and wouldn’t “let me” get up and go outside for my favorite part of my day aka my walk/run outside. instead, i fell back into old habits - i started out by weighing out 2 servings of hippeas nacho cheese (so good omg) and then waited a little bit longer than i normally would in those weak moments but then i just went for the bag and demolished it. i knew i would be able to fit it into my macros with some playing around and eating relatively lower carb the rest of the day and it had a good amount of protein for what it was so i was mentally okay with this decision since it felt chaotic and like i was being “bad” and indulging that part of my brain but it really wasn’t. Then again under the guise of “okay i’m actually going to go walk/run now so i need some kind of carbs” a little while later i had a think thin bar, fine, moving on. Still hadn’t tracked anything other than the oatmeal and my AM supplements so i had zero idea of where i was macro wise and i think looking back, that probably has something to do with what came next and is something that happens a lot when these things happen so something to keep an eye on going forward. Then I was still “hungry” - pretty sure it was emotional hunger since I could feel myself starting to spiral mentally at this point but it wasn’t super obvious so i was trying to convince myself that I was fine and to just ignore it and it would go away. “conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show” as one of my spirit “animals” would say. well i got up to look into the cabinet that i was just in and knew what was in there and think subconsciously was like oh i’ll just look and then walk away which i’m perfectly capable of/okay doing when i’m in a better headspace but no, i saw my favorite kettle honey dijon chips and was like “well it’s half a bag so not a full one so if i eat all of it, it’s not as bad...”. that actually went through my mind... like that’s not a healthy dialogue and i shouldn’t be justifying these behaviors that i knew were not the right ones in that moment and after that moment passed. so i grab the chips, lay on my bed and start eating. i probably had about 2, maybe 3 servings of chips and just said “no. i’m not doing this.” and thought about the last 17 days at that point and was like “no i’m not self sabotaging myself on what would’ve been my longest run of doing 75 hard (my record at this point was 17 days before i failed) and i know i don’t want to do this to myself and i don’t want this to be who i am anymore”. not to mention i hadn’t left my apartment yet and had barely moved around enough to make the stand ring on my apple watch move so i could hit that goal doing the bare minimum (literally 2k steps at 7pm... that were 90% done before i sat down with my oatmeal at 8am) and i just put my foot down. i think what also threw me off was i’ve gotten back into the habit of doing my usual routine but then lifting at like 10am ish but yesterday was an active rest day so it was different somehow since i was going for a walk/run outside vs going downstairs to the gym... idk. it just felt like i was a little lost in a way and just off because of that. but anyway, i told myself to stop with the chips and thew the bag out of arms length onto the dresser and that was the end of that. i got up, got dressed, and made the decision to not let that feeling win and to not sabotage myself when i know how much hard work i’ve put into this over the last 17 days and i’m not going to let anxiety/depression/etc drag me back down when i’ve fought so hard to leave that version of me behind and to move onto bigger and better things. now, that was at like 4pm and i didn’t end up leaving to go outside until 7pm because of that stupid phone game that i’m obsessed with but hey, i made it outside and i did what i had to do. was it the best, most awesome workout ever? not at all. did it feel good for my soul to get outside and breathe the fresh air and move my body? did it feel good to know that even though those feelings had won the battle but i had won the war and the pride that came with that? hell fucking yes. it wasn’t this big epiphany moment where i felt like a superhero, it was definitely more subdued but that’s fine with me because honestly with the mood that i was in and having that dark cloud looming over me, expecting it to be one of those big, over the top crazy positive epiphany moments would be expecting a lot and just not probable. so i had a pretty decent walk and came back and did some yoga with adriene for depression and anxiety for 45 mins (because if i could push myself to do the hard thing of going outside to do one workout, i could push myself to do the not so hard thing and the thing that would also help my mental state and my poor sore muscles), which was good and needed but i still couldn’t get out of my head to really relax and i felt like i was back in that fight or fight like clenched fist feeling that i had when i was working and it was frustrating to say the least. but look self, doing some yoga isn’t going to completely erase these issues and some days just aren’t going to be your day and you’re not going to be able to get out of it everything you hoped because of a mental barrier and that’s okay. like adriene says, it’s not supposed to be perfect or be anything, it’s your practice. i know it’s hard for me to not to get the full experience or relief or whatever i need from things like yoga and meditation because i think i just feel like i so desperately need that release of the emotions and the weight off my shoulders even for a little bit that when it doesn’t happen, it becomes partly frustrating but mostly just a feeling of despair like it’s never going to leave and why isn’t this working?? it sucks but i just have to remember that’s why it’s called a practice and it’s something i have to continually keep doing and i’ll get “better at” and i’ll get what i need out of it, maybe not every day or day 1 or 2 but eventually i’ll find that peace i’m looking for.

i still have so much more i want to go into but i need to get up and start my day since it’s already almost 7am so i’ll say my famous last words again, maybe i’ll be back later. i had a couple of little breakthroughs yesterday that i want to talk through (why my anxiety is so high with the election/trump, self sabotaging like i talked about above, and more which i’ll add in when i remember them later). 

[aquaticsapphic]

feel free to skip any, but all the oc asks for either Xanthe or Mies? (Or both but I don't wanna give u..... A shitton if u don't want it)

I’m gonna do these in 2 parts!First up is Xanthe :)

What does their bedroom look like?

I don’t have a solid bedroom really, I’m on the move too much. Even if I stay in a room for a while, I don’t typically keep much of my things in there.

(ooc: If she were to suddenly drop travelling in stay in a room, I imagine it would still be pretty bare, but probably small and comfy. Probably a desk for writing and a trash bin with letters.)

Do they have any daily rituals?

Every night before I go to sleep I have a quick check-in with Lulu so she can see how I’m doing or offer advice. It’s nice to have someone to listen and help me feel like I’m not completely alone in the world, you know?

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

I primarily walk from place to place, especially when travelling from one city to another. I used to be very hard-set with exercises, but now I just use whatever I need for day-to-day activities.

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

I’d hang around for a while if it looked like they were almost done, but otherwise I’d just leave and come back later, so I wouldn’t bother them.

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

In the cities and towns I stay in, I try to bathe every day, but as I sometimes spend weeks getting from place to place, the ideal hygiene isn’t always possible. As for the things I own, I’m not too concerned with keeping them in order in my bag, as I know they’ll just get jumbled up on the journey anyway.

Eating habits and sample daily menu

When I’m in town I try to get a bunch of rations and non-perishables like bread, dried fruits, cheese, and jerky. I also try to collect food as I go through the plains though, so any edible plants and animals I can find there will add a bit of variety to what I eat.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

I like seeing how different people in different towns and cities interact with each other. Everybody has such interesting lives and stories to tell, and it’s exciting to be able to view these chapters for a while. It’s a nice pastime when I can focus on it, but if something else is weighing on me, it just heightens my nervousness.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

I don’t typically indulge in things very often, but I guess as far as guilty pleasures go, I try to avoid becoming too involved with situations because whenever I do, things seem to go wrong, but…. It’s hard to keep that promise to myself sometimes.

Makeup?

I alternate between wearing none and wearing just enough to make me unrecognizable.

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

(ooc: Xanthe is… very bad at recognizing that these are problems and admitting that, but: Avoidance, low sense of self-worth, repeated negative thoughts. She started working on trying to be better at managing them, but I’m not sure if she understands the neurological components of it.)

Intellectual pursuits?

I like listening to all of Bufo’s past journeys and everything he’s learned throughout the years. He’s actually really cool.

Favorite book genre?

Fantasy. What can I say, I like talking animals.

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Lesbian. Your sexuality is your own, and no one can decide that for you.

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

I have a few light scars on my arms, a circular scar on my chest/shoulder area from getting shot with a bow once, and it seems like I’ll always have a bunch of small bruises. I bruise really easily.

Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Well I definitely want to get off of this island, but I’m not sure how long that will take.  So for now… talk to Fela. Explore the island.

Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Lulu says going back will help me. I hope it will. I also want to see a will-o’-wisp.

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Someone said I looked good in light purple, so I’ve been trying to add that color into my outfits. I really like loose-fitting clothes, because they’re so nice and airy. But I can’t wear skirts or dresses. They just get in the way and make it hard to move.

Favorite beverage?

I honestly just like water.

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

If there’s not a lot that happened during the day, my thoughts will ultimately drift back to all the mistakes I’ve made.

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

“A lady is to be looked at, not listened to. Therefore, if you have to cough, do so daintily, and behind a handkerchief.”

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

I like open-books. People who know what they want. I can’t stand possessiveness or jealousy.

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

I’d probably start doodling Bufo. Or Lulu.

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Oh, I’m pretty disorganized. It seems like no matter what I do, I always arrive either too late or too early. Luckily I’ve never had much trouble with misplacing things, even though my backpack is a mess.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

I’m interested in learning vague details about academics, but I can’t sit through them or put anything into practice.

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

Wherever I am, I hope I’m happy. And Bufo is happy. And Lulu is happy. And if it’s not too much to ask, I hope they are still with me.

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

Lulu thinks it will help to get in touch with old friends. I hope it goes well, but even then, I’ve been fine without them.

What is their biggest regret?

Caerlowyl

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Bufo. Definitely Bufo. And….. my mom. All these miles apart and she still haunts me.

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

There’s always somewhere else I can go.

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Whatever it is, it would probably be my fault somehow.

Most prized possession?

My handaxe. It was the first weapon that I ever really learned how to use, so it has some sentimental value. Plus it’s useful for cutting things.

Thoughts on material possessions in general?

Keep what you need, leave everything else.

Concept of home and family?

They’re too stifling. I can’t imagine a life like that.

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

The less everyone knows about me, the better everyone will be.

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

I like listening to music, even if there isn’t much to it.

What makes them feel guilty?

Remembering. Open waters.

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

I try to be calm, but it’s not always easy.

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

Neither.

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

A good, old-fashioned party.

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

I’ve done many terrible things. I think it’s fair to say most people are better than me in that aspect.

How misanthropic are they?

Not much. People are complex, and the complexity is what makes everyone so interesting.

Hobbies?

I like hiking. And fishing. I don’t keep up with a lot of hobbies.

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

Ugh, my mom taught me how to be the Perfect Wife for about half my life and it was a load of bull shit.

Religion?

Gods and I don’t get along.

Superstitions or views on the occult?

I’m generally not a fan.

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Deeds probably. When I act without thinking is probably when I am the most true.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Someone who accepts me as I am and doesn’t try to change me. I won’t change just to be someone they want me to be. Clearly defined expectations always help.

How do they express love?

Love is staying together until the bitter end.

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

Depends. If the person deserves it, I’m not afraid to fight dirty. At least until they stop fighting me.

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

I’m not afraid of dying myself. I’d hate to see anybody else die.

#my ocs #long post #thank you! #also I'm doing them all I promise it just takes a while #romanarcadia #everybody talks babe #answered