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baura-bear · 1 year

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When I’m writing Newsies fics sometimes the hardest part is finding headlines to put in so I’d like to share some a couple things!

The first is this link it’s the library of congress’ archive of American newspapers 1777-1963. It’s very handy. You can sort by state, year, and even by which newspapers articles were published in! You can also search for key words or phrases. All of the articles about the actual strike are on there and you can also just see what else was happening at the time. I usually use this to find headlines to include in fics haha!

The second thing I wanted to share is all the headlines that are in papers from UKsies! I got Crutchie’s cast paper and the Seize the Day “New Newsies Price” paper. I’m just going to include headlines on the post, but if you want to know more about any of them or want the full article just message me and I’d be happy to send it :)

Crutchie’s paper front page:

The World. New Jersey Edition

Vol. XXVII., NO. 9,230 12 Pages. Saturday, November 27, 1886 12 Pages. Price Two Cents

“NEW YORK AND LONDON. Number of columns of Advertising Printed During the Month of October:

London News... 631 Columns

London Standard... 863 Columns

London Times... 985 Columns

London Telegraph... 1,049 Columns

New York World... 1,648 Columns

LORD CAMPBELL IN COURT. A Sensational Divorce Case Which Stirs London Society. Terrible Charges Against the Brother of the Maquis of Lorne-Meeting of Husband and Wife-The Painful Details of the Latter’s Story-The Duke of Argyll Unable to Bear His Son’s Disgrace. [Copyrighted by the Press Publishing Company (New York World), 1886.]

A MELANCHOLY HONEYMOON. The Story Told in Court of Miss Blood’s Courtship and Marriage [Associated Press Despatch.]

DAVITT’S CANADIAN TOUR. Rousing Reception at Montreal-Hot Shot for O’Donovan Rossa. [Special To The World.]

The President and the Statue. [Special To The World.]

A Hurricane and Cold Wave. [Special To The World.]

England’s Prosecution of Dillon.

Drank Aconite for Whiskey.

BALKED BY THE PRESIDENT. He Orders Chief Walker Discharged. -Overhauling The Commissioners. [Special To The World.]

ANOTHER BIG RAID. Harry Hill, Billy McGlory, Tom Gould and Other Shining Lights Arrested.

RASCALITIES OF REED. Boston’s Defaulter Discovered in More Over Issues of Stock. [Special To The World]

Telegraph Ticks.

FORTY-TWO MINERS BURNED. Explosion of Mine Gas Caused By Disregard Of Warnings. It Happens Before All the Men Have Entered the Working-The Very Air About Them Seems Turned to Flame-Rescuers Overcome-The Bodies Almost Unrecognizable-At Least Twelve Will Die. [Special To The World.]

ABBET HAS IT NOW. The Recount at Camden Elects Turley (Dem.) Instead of Haines (Rep.). [Special To The World.]

THEY DISAPPROVED OF M’NEILL. Nominated for Mayor of Boston on the L- (from here the ink didn’t print well and I can’t make out the headline) [Special To The World.]

A Rioter’s Queer Excuse.

Texas and the Cholera Scare. [Special To The World.]

Confessed to a Bogus Friend.

Stabbed by Her Insane Husband.

Jim Cummings, the Letter-Writer

RESCUED FROM THE ROCKS. Gallant and Thrilling Feat Of The Life-Saving Heroes. After Lightning Dash by Rail of a Hundred Miles They rescue Twenty-four Men from Certain Death-An Incident of the Recent Storms on Lake Superior-Steam and Courage Carry the Day. [Special To The World.]

BELLIGERENT BAKER. Uncle John, After Beating Morrison, Beats Reporter Too. [Special To The World.]

Her Great-Grandchild at Her Wedding. [Special To The World.]

Canada Exchanging Swindlers. [Special To The World.]

Three Human Beings Roasted.

(Those last five are also In the Seize the Day Pape but I won’t be repeating them)

Weather Indications

Vogel Brothers’ Perfect-Fitting Overcoats

Crutchie’s paper second page:

THE COMEIE FRANCAISE. Domestic Arrangements At The “Home Of The French Drama.” Mrs. Hooper’s Investigation of the Inner recesses of a Famous Historic Temple-Spacious Greenrooms and Artistic Loges-Manager Claretie’s Sanctum-Court-room of the Official Dramatic Jury. [Special Correspondence Of The World]

DEAD LETTER DRIFTWOOD. Annual Sale of Stray Trinkets in Uncle Sam’s Curiosity Shop. [Special To The World.]

NORRISTOWN NIPPED. A Clever Swindler Bluffs and Borrows on Large Bogus Drafts. [Special To The World.]

RECOVERING FROM HIS FRIGHT. Patrick Loughran Almost Ready to Begin Digging Another Sewer Trench.

The George W. Cable Insult. [Special To The World.]

Assassinated for $65

Who Will Succeed Mr. Hoxie?

HOW WILSON PAID HIS DEBTS. His Accidental Acquaintance With The Engle Family. Various Facts Bearing on the Theory the He is Moon’s Legitimate Son-His Sudden Blossoming as a Capitalist-Pretense of a Marriage With Hattie Englee Kept Up- The Cemetery Lot. [Special To The World]

Cutting’s Mexican Colonization Scheme.

Methodists Extending Their Work.

Stabbed by a Drunken Customer

THE TEST OF THE ATLANTA. Lieut. Bacon Says She Is As Good A Ship As She Floats. The Trial was Not a Fair One, He Declares, Because Her Machinery was New and She was Kept at High Speed Too Long-He Says that She Can Make Twenty Miles an Hour.

A CHINESE GAMBLER FAILS. Two Hundred Infuriated Celestial Policy-Players Clamoring for Their Winnings.

Printers’ Union Nominations

General Railway Notes

THE AMSTERDAM MILL PICKETS. Meeting of the Strikers in Their Behalf-The Trial Postponed. [Special To The World]

Organizing A Cavalry Squadron

Great Excitement on Broadway

New Publications (this section includes ads for subscriptions to magazines and newspapers and such, also a few ads for books and toys)

Seize The Day Paper Front Page:

(this one actually has a headline unlike Crutchie’s!)

NEW NEWSIES PRICE: SIXTY CENTS PER HUNDRED

CLOSE CONTEST FOR MAYOR. Four Candidates Will Struggle For The Honor At Plainfield. Some Sharp Republican Practices in the Deal for the Party Nomination-The Secret Caucus-The Fourth Ward Ignored-Inside History of the Campaign-Democratic Prospects Favorable. [Special To The World.]

WAKING UP OLD MORRISTOWN. Orange Soldiers Create Great Excitement in a Theater-A Plucky Spaniel.

NEWARK SCHOOL MATTERS. Change of Teachers and Dispute About the Site of a New School.

ONE STRIKER FOUND GUILTY. He was a Member of the Paterson “Escort” and Too Officious.

The Police Want New Quarters.

Wanted to be Sent to Snake Hill.

KILLED ON HIS WEDDING DAY. Sad Circumstances Attending The Death Of Charles F. Gocker. He is Supposed to Have Met the Fatal Accident at the Erie Tunnel, Jersey City, While Temporarily Insane-His Death Announced to an Assembled Bridal Party-Interview with the Bride-Elect’s Mother.

REDUCTION OF TAXES DEMANDED. Jersey City Householders Object to Paying Too High Prices for Privileges.

Last Night of the Fair.

DRINK MADE HIM A DEMON. Richard Dixon Went on a Thanksgiving Spree and Stabbed His Wife.

THOSE RED BANK SLOPES. They Will Arrive in Jersey City To-Morrow Evening-Warrants Ready. [Special To The World.]

AT THE POINT OF DEATH. George Mackay Fatally Injured on a Coach When Driving Under a Bridge.

IMPRISONED BY HER HUSBAND. A Wife Complains the She was Locked up for Two Days and Her Arm Broken.

IT WAS ALMOST A PANIC. A Can Of Naphtha Explodes And Injures The Forewoman. Fifty Girls Get Scared and Rush Into the Street-Five of Them Faint and Are Sent Home in Carriages-Miss Cumming’s Face Neck and Breast Badly Burned-Beyond This Little Damage is Done.

THE BONDSMEN COMPROMISE. Settling with the New Brunswick Insurance Company for Applegate’s Deficit.

DELANY TRIAL DELAYED. Convicted of Atrocious Assault Yet Still Retains His Liberty.

To Establish a Principle.

TALKING ABOUT WATER. Newark Officials Considering the Question of Filtering the Passaic.

CRIMINAL TRAILS CONCLUDED. Petit Jurors in the Essex Quarter Sessions Complimented and Discharged.

EDWARD RUTH’S FUNERAL. Many Organizations will Turn Out to Do Honor to the Dead Chief.

SUNDAY DRUG TRADE IN DANGER. Asbury Park Commissioners Are Making a Dead Set to Stop it. [Special To The World.]

Sentence Day in Court.

(Front page ends with the repeated five articles from crutchie’s pape)

Seize The Day Paper Page Two:

BUILDING NEW WAR SHIPS. Completing The Contract For Constructing The Cruisers. The Union Iron Works of San Francisco Secure the Heaviest Work-The Firm Fully Responsible-Terms Imposed by Secretary Whitney on the Contractors-Names and Dimensions of the New Vessels Ordered.

BICYCLES IN THE PARK. Wheelmen Want to Know Why The Cannot Use all the Drives.

The Women G.A.R Veteran Rescued Him.

The Workingman in Politics.

TALLMADGE TALKS OF ARTHUR’S DEATH. And He Says All Ministers’ Sons Do Not Turn Out Bad.

A VERDICT OF $48,861 28. The Nice Little Bill that the Third Avenue Surface Road will Pay.

Hayden’s Slayer Loses His Bravado.

A Cannibalistic Murderer.

MADE NEGROES HIS HEIRS. Peculiar Will Of A Wealthy White Farmer Of Georgia. His Daughter by a Negro Woman Gets Most of His Estate-Surrounded by His Former Slaved and Dominated by One of Them-White Relatives Avoid Him-They Contest the Will. [Special To The World.]

THE CHICAGO HOTEL FIRE. Narrow Escape of Many Guests-Railroad Shops Burned-Other Fires.

Theatrical Men’s Hobbies [From The News Letter.]

A MUNICIPAL FARCE. The Grotesque Situation of a Divided Seaside City. [Special To The World.]

FRATRICIDE AND SUICIDE. Tragic End of the Prolonged Debauch of Two Atlanta Brothers. [Special To The World.]

THE RELIEF OF THE LYCOMING. Towed to Fort Disabled After Severe Lake Storms.

A New Woodbridge Industry.

The Heir to Millions. [From The Philadelphia Call.]

Obituary Notes

California Wines (Strictly Pure).

THE CRIME OF CLUVERIUS. Three Of His Jurymen Want The Death Sentence Commuted. They Contend that They Did Not Know a Verdict For a Less Offense Could be Rendered-Some Contradictory Attitudes-Juror Jowell Stands Firm and Carries the Others With Him for Hanging. [Special To The World.]

CHANGED COLOR. A Blonde Victim of “Addison's Disease” Becomes Black. [from The Cincinnati Enquirer.]

Poor Brignoli’s Daughter. [New York Letter to Boston Globe.]

STRAY BERLIN NOTES. Death of an Eccentric Character-New York Enterprise. [Special Correspondence Of The World.]

Pittsburgh Stove Moulders Strike.

Lamson and Kilrain Matched

(The rest of the paper is ads for government bonds, calls for money donations, and shipping news)

#newsies #uksies #britsies #newsies uk #newpapers #newspaper #newsies musical #newsies fandom #newsies fanfiction #newsies broadway #musicals #history

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hyenahunt · 1 year

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Saga: Rivals - 3

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Hokuto, Seiya, Jin, Tori

Proofreading: 310mc (JP) & Peace (ENG)

Translation: kotofucius

Seiya: Well, Hocchan’s developing toxic masculinity is not the focus of this discussion, so we’ll put that aside.

Hokuto: Declare… war?

What do you mean, Father? Explain yourself!

Seiya: ………

Hokuto: W-What’s with you? What have you been doing the past few minutes…?

Seiya: Ah, pardon me… I was checking my phone. Messages have been coming non-stop, you see.

Visiting Yumenosaki Academy as an interim lecturer was not part of my original schedule, so it came with its side effects.

I'll be taking care of what I can through my phone while we talk. You may find it disrespectful, but I’d appreciate your lenience.

This action won't impair my attention to the discussion.

Jin: Haha. You’ve always been good at multitasking, Seiya-san.

Seiya: I don’t have talent like you or “Akehoshi-kun”, so I have to take more measures to compete.

Many a little makes a mickle… “That means you have the talent to work hard,” or so my wife would say to console me.

In any event, I heard they plan to make an official statement at the end of the week, but — Cosmic Production will be taking part in Project-Saga.

Of course, they’ve been investing in Project-Saga and making inconspicuous moves since before.

But for certain reasons, they’ve mostly stayed a spectator without sending out a temporary unit of their own—

While late, they seem to plan to finally introduce their ace in the hole.

Hokuto: CosPro… Haven’t they learned their lesson after the mess their higher-ups caused in SS?

I bet they’re up to no good again; we’ll crush whatever schemes they have like we’ve done before.

Seiya: How violent — you’re acting completely like part of some warrior race…

But I guess that’s how somebody raised within the DreamFest system, within an oxymoronic order where war is the regular state, would inevitably end up.

Well, Hocchan’s developing toxic masculinity is not the focus of this discussion, so we’ll put that aside.

The conclusion of SS the other day has left CosPro in a miserable state, you see.

But that’s a given. Their entire top brass was held accountable for their sins and discharged, and the stock price of their companies bottomed out altogether.

Students of their idol training schools have begun to withdraw of their own accord, and they’ve been laying off a huge number of their employees.

In summary, they’ve taken an absurd amount of damage. If we use the human body as an analogy, they’re suffering from heavy bleeding on top of having all their bones broken. It’s almost a wonder they’re alive.

Hokuto: Hmph. They deserve that for their callous action.

Seiya: Yes. While rare in this era in which God has died, divine retribution was justly carried out. Miracles do happen.

It took me aback… I’m truly glad Akehoshi-kun’s tragedy didn’t have to be repeated.

There was worth putting aside my principles for a minute to nose into the matter knowing my son was involved.

Hokuto: …I know you did things for us in Autumn Live and SS.

But we overcame that situation and won because we fought with all our hearts for it.

If you’re trying to make me feel indebted, I say you should get the hell out.

Seiya: Where has this boy been picking up these phrases, really?

Well, fine. There’s no need for you to feel indebted, naturally.

But I’ll remind you not to mistake yourself for justice… Human beings trample and hurt one another just by being alive.

True, the CosPro top brass’s deed in SS was vile and despicable.

But were they unsympathetic evil to the likes of pests and calamities? No.

I won’t go into details as it might turn out long; but the people responsible for the repulsive scheme exposed in SS…

…Were mostly those who had suffered as Non-Special Students in idol training schools under CosPro.

Some were also parents of students whose efforts never bore fruit and ended up slaves; others were staff who had gone through thick and thin with such students.

CosPro is a rising power, but has long enough of a history behind it. While this may not be the proper expression — the people I mentioned were underdogs in that organization.

They held frustrations, bitterness for the oppression and subordination they were put through.

They adored and loathed idols.

And then in SS, through their plan to frame Trickstar so CosPro idols could win—

They gained the perfect pretext to make a move, making those emotions erupt at once. They lost the clear head to think what their dark outburst might lead to…

Coupled with mob mentality, it caused a terrible explosion.

Fortunately, damage was minimized, but everything could have ended then.

Even the history of idols, which has persisted since the era of God, could have ceased to be with the worst possible ending.

The tragedy the idol industry had spent so much time and effort to erase was dragged up and repeated…

The blade dripping with their venom should have finally cut us down once and for all.

Yet, Subaru-kun and other idols of the present objected to such an undesirably bad ending.

Of course, I won’t be recounting the answer Subaru-kun gave, the miracle he showed, here.

But our greatest crisis has passed, and a bridge leading to the future has been erected. The hand of the clock that stopped with God’s death has begun moving once more.

Tori: Umm, is that God the person said to be the original Super Idol?

The one Sagami-sensei taught us about before, who single-handedly built the idol industry…?

Seiya: Yes. Most are reluctant to speak of his name, so we call him God for convenience.

It’s a proper epithet, either way — he was a transcendental existence that surpasses even my understanding.

In any case, a great disaster has been avoided, and perhaps it would’ve been nice to conclude the story here with a delightful happily-ever-after.

Yet this isn’t a fairytale we live in; it’s reality.

“And they lived happily ever after” may work as an ending to a tale, but cleaning up after all the mess that happened is necessary in reality.

Though Hocchan, for one, seems to hate these things.

Hokuto: …Well, I at least understand the necessity of it.

Tori: Yeah, I want you to keep that in mind. Over here at the Student Council, our work is mostly just the mind-numbing cleanup of the revolution back in Spring…

Somebody has to do it.

✦✦✦✦✦

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#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #s: saga #hyenahunttl #hokuto hidaka #tori himemiya #jin sagami #seiya hidaka

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thewestern · 2 months

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Chapter 25

Mayor Mockingbird was ensconced in the private dining room of the vegan steakhouse of which he was a part owner. That morning there had been an incident at City Hall wherein one of his schizophrenic constituents — an ever-increasing slice of his core demographic — had charged the door to his office brandishing a hatchet. His sheriff's department detail didn’t hesitate to Put the [Assailant(— redacted/sic, profanity)] down, as he so phrased it in the official report. After preliminarily engaging the unsub with six warning shots to the torso area, I preceded to fire a follow-up, security round to the facial and head region, to heretofore confirm the neutralization of the imminent threat magnitude in perpetuity.

(Here the deputy had partaken in a controversial practice called Canoeing, which he’d heard about by way of his cousin, Jaxson, who served a half a tour overseas. Popular among American servicemembers, canoeing entails shooting a high-caliber bullet at point-blank range directly into the face of an assailant who has been previously mortally wounded, if not killed outright. This, as a primitive means of marking them — like a calling card. Thoroughly macabre. The deputy bragged how his cousin was special forces, but in actuality, he had only achieved the rank of enlisted private before his dishonorable discharge for unrelated offenses. [He was caught with his pants down — around his ankles — as he masturbated onto the bunk of his commanding officer, in retaliation for putting him on Shit Detail {Cleaning out the latrine}.] The commanding officer wasn’t present in his bunk, {Jaxson} reiterated in the incident report. I’m no faggot. Not that those JSOC jagoffs are any fucking better. Tell you what they’re a bunch of psychos. Serious, dude. Ever wonder how come there aint been no serial killers recently? What … you mean after Gacy and Bundy and Dahmer they all decided to pack it in? Like they was on strike? The Local 666. Hell no. Don’t believe that shit for a second. It’s cause serial killers are for peacetime is the real reason. Look it up. War is when those crazy sons a bitches get paid. For plying their trade: wasting fools. Poppa said if you do what you love you’ll never work a day in your life. Mother fucking freaks get recruited like they’re five-star prospects. Right of high school — presumably you can make it through without shooting the place to high hell — it’s straight to Camp Jeffrey or Fort Ted, Jack. Boy, they’ll make a useful fucking American out of you yet.

[Speaking of spree killers, rumours had recently circulated on a popular online message board — one typically used for soliciting restaurant recommendations and complaining about the weather — that one was active in the city, and that the local police was covering it up. It was true that there had been several young men who had washed up dead in relatively short succession on the river banks just downstream from the old train yard, not far from #x_brüing. No, it wasn’t Jaime. Actually, homicide detectives had quite thoroughly investigated the deaths and determined conclusively there was no foul play. The sad truth was those boys had more than likely fallen in the river and drowned by accident. Probably they were drunk. It’s a reality of bodies of water in urban areas. Happens more than you think.])

This was the first time the Deputy had the honour of discharging his service weapon in the line of duty. (In service of killing a man, that is. Routinely he took on-the-clock target practice at the empty energy drink cans that piled high atop the passenger seat of his cruiser. All ammunition was carefully inventoried at the station weapons depot, so these were rounds he purchased himself at a local sporting goods store which offered a discount to first responders, active duty military and veterans.) As per department protocol, the deputy would thusly be required to attend No Less Than Three mandatory sessions with a county sub-contracted psychiatrist, so as to evaluate the effect of this violent event on his mental state. You didn’t need to be Sigmund fucking Freud however to tell by the shit-eating grin plastered on this son of a bitch’s face that he was, in a word, giddy. No doubt this would get him off this shit detail and back into a cush post at county lockup, where he’d get his time and a half. (Not to mention whatever he made on the side … trafficking toilet wine, prepaid cell phones and the like among the inmates, that is.) For the time being, however, he had to keep biding his time babysitting Mayor Muffdiver here, who had insisted that he order anything off the menu, what as a token of his gratitude for saving his hide. That’s right, you fucking pussy. Unfortunately, he didn’t recognize any of the items on the menu. I thought the sign out front said Steakhouse. (You couldn’t really fault him for not comprehending the Sanskrit-font fine print above that said Vegan.) But this ain’t look nothing like the Sizzler. Even the sides are dogshit. What the fuck is a Quinoa Risotto, he wondered to himself, pronouncing it Quinn-oh-Ah in his head. Whatever, it’s free. So then preternaturally he defaulted to ordering the most expensive thing on the menu — the sixty-nine-dollar tomahawk shiitake. I’ll be damned if it wasn’t drier than that old lady’s taint. Beet juice was no substitute for blood. He should know too. What having just this afternoon bukakee’d a brain stem’s worth of it all over the Mayor’s fucking drywall. Hoo-hah.

A self-described lapsed pescatarian, Mayor Larry also wasn’t feeling particularly appetized, even at this restaurant he owned in part. In truth, like the deputy, he preferred red meat. Secretly, he craved it … insatiably, in fact, at all hours of the day and night. Alas, his intestines were tied. For one thing, he had made Nutritional Education a cornerstone of his platform, campaigning on the promise that proper diet and exercise were the two most powerful weapons with which to combat poverty. (Government assistance finishing a non-competitive fourth, just missing out on the podium.) Third and more importantly, the Natural Foods Mafia — a powerful local lobby of health and wellness-oriented grocers, restaurateurs and CPG purveyors of granola-based snack bars, flavored energy pastes and fermented beverages of a non-alcoholic persuasion (hell yeah we’re talking about kombucha, bitch) — had been instrumental to his political rise. Larry had joined their ranks as an unmade consigliere of sorts after departing the New Frontier, during his first foray into angel investing. He was participating in a seed round-funding of a FoodTech startup that which aimed to create a speculative marketplace for trading — of all fucking things — seeds. Would you believe they called it, the Stalk Exchange? (That was back before the first dot-com boom went bust when at least the fugazi tech companies had real names at least. Meaning ones that say what they mean. Pets dot com. Diapers dot Com. Product We Sell or Service We Provide dot Com. Now all the startups had stupid fucking names that had hardly anything to do with their business. And as if that weren’t confusing enough, some unofficial style guide called for most vowels and all letter casing to be omitted entirely. Billy was hip to this game. For a fact, when #x_brü inevitably got so big it would have to restructure into a conglomerate of shell corporations so as to skirt antitrust regulation, Billy planned to rebrand that new holding company DRFT. Like a startup shorthand for Draft, as in beer.) While that investment didn’t bear fruit, it did help him to cultivate some deeply rooted connections in the budding organics lobby. (Punch me in the fucking face.) Fortuitously, it was their coveted endorsement that helped to earn him a narrow victory in his first hotly-contested primary election. What Mayor Larry didn’t count on was that once you owed a debt to the Natural Foods Mafia, they owned you for life. Like some other fraternal organizations you may be familiar with, they were very much a blood-in, blood-out, sort of situation. La Couscous Nostra. So here he was, trapped in a restaurant for which he was coerced into buying a minority ownership, waiting on another of his unpaid lackeys to smuggle in a mostly beef hamburger through the back door service entrance.

Suffice it to say, Mayor Larry would have much preferred to be back home at City Manor, unwinding with some fundraising calls, were it not for the nagging omnipresence of his wife, Matilda. She was already angry about having to chauffeur their son, Carter, to Tuscon tomorrow for a soccer tournament. Youth sports culture had gotten out of control, as he was fond of commiserating with his fellow parents at cocktail parties. For Pete’s sake, this was the U-Eleven division — we’re talking ten-year-olds here — traveling all over the country to play against other children. Interstate airfare, hotel reservations, chartered buses, catered orange slices. Like they were the Pittsburgh freaking Steelers, for crying out loud. These boys haven’t even hit puberty! And Larry’s son, in particular, hated soccer anyway. Probably on account of he was born with a mild case of clubfoot. Hey, don’t look at me. I was second-team all-state in fencing. Any lack of athleticism, he got that from his mother, who herself meanwhile through some acrobatic feat of albeit well-earned marital resentment, had resolved to blame his father for being attacked by a lone axman. Don’t ask him how.

But then, even if it was sincere regret for its failure, at least Matty felt something about the botched assassination attempt. Hildegard, for her part, hadn’t so much as called. By now she must have heard. It was all over the news. Before his would-be Wilkes Booth had even hit the ground, the Mayor had quite savvily called a press conference, cashing in the political capital of his near-death to pump some desperately needed life into his currently flatlining gubernatorial campaign. Woe for the maneuver backfired, when his opponent used the violent attack to rhetorically counterattack Mayor Larry’s stance on gun control, tepid though it was. Common Sense Reforms and Best Practices for Responsible Weapon Ownership, was how it was clumsily copywritten on the website. (Visit More 4 Mockingbird dot com slash donate today! … the web domain for 4 More 4 Mockingbird dot com was already being squatted on for his reelection, all the more improbable though it may now have seemed.) Now here we got ourselves a situation where a bad guy Did Not have a gun. It was a battle axe, or some sharp, throwing implement of sorts. Because, isn’t it the god’s-honest truth that most radical terrorist acts aren’t carried out with firearms in the first place? Statistics bear that out. I believe it to be the case it’s because they’re too yeller to look a man in the eye and pull the trigger. Instead, the Islam-ists here, they’ll use whatever they can get their hands on — anything from a kitchen knife to explosive de-vices, ignited in their damn’d underpants. You name it. Whatever causes a maximum output of pain with the bare minimum input of guts, them cowards’ll use it. Hell, they’ll stampede a crowded market in a truck if it so suits ‘em. So you tell me this … howsit that Mayor Mockingbird knocking on your front door, and taking away your guns, to which you are constitutionally entitled by the Almighty God, Himself, howsit that that’s going to stop something awful like this from happening to you? Or to your children, heaven forbid? I don’t need to remind any of you fine folks, the only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun — or a boxcutter, or a bomb, or an ali-baba sword or a foreign-made truck careening through a crowded pedestrian area — is an even badder guy with a gun. And guess what, Kimosabe, you gone done found him. [Here the chosen candidate of the opposition party sidestepped the lectern and slowly pulled back his barn coat to reveal an as-previously concealed carry hand cannon holstered on his right love handle. It was an Austrian-made, polymer-framed piece with a matte American flag finish; but only the red, white and blue were swapped out with black and two very menacing shades of gunmetal gray, and the stars were interspersed throughout with skulls. Returning to the bouquet of microphones from the assembled press, he resumed his diatribe.] If you d’ruther take your chances with a rape whistle or a pocket knife or a damn wrist rocket, for all I care, well then that’s your prerogative, Mr. Mayor. I don’t tell you your business. You don’t tell me mine!

If indeed the pen were mightier than the sword, never mind the semi-automatic pistol, then Larry had better get to work on crafting an in-kind response to these scurrilous and inflammatory attacks on his character. Unfortunately, he was previously occupied with a separate bit of oratory entirely. The Office of the Mayor was issuing an Official Civic Apology on behalf of The City for the historic blight that was the Main Street Melee, a massacre carried out on the order of the then-Mayor Curtis Hixon. It was a nasty business, wherein Hixon — or Hick, as he was Affectionately Known, who mind you had been duly elected by no public vote, and was rather named Mayor by power of self-appointed title and homemade-sash only — deputized a posse to retaliate swiftly and unconditionally against a war party of renegade Indians. This, for their Unprovoked raid on an arriving wagon train of white settlers, wherein two poor German immigrant families were murdered quite brutally. However, being that the band of hostiles in question was by that time already long gone on down the warpath, the militia of mostly drunk miners — hastily, they had been commissioned for duty inside a saloon … another thing they had in common, in addition to their public service, was that outside of their political lives, Mayor Larry and his predecessor Hick were both part-time publicans, as well as avid real estate speculators — settled for settling their score on the account of some innocent bystanding Indians, who ironically were in town to negotiate a treaty of peace on behalf of a separate tribe entirely than the one the renegade braves formerly represented. (Hence, they were Renegade.) After a brief if-you-could-call-it-a standoff, eight elders and twenty squaws, unarmed to a one, were gunned down right there in the thoroughfare. A more perfect butchery, there never was. Thus epitaphed one of the massacre’s co-authors, apparently he who fancied himself a fucking poet.

These events unfolded — more than a century ‘ore — on the present-day site of a salad store, part of a burgeoning fast-casual chain of restaurants founded by a trio of business school classmates. Three Masters of Business Administration. (Per their business plan, this was the End of the Line for the Salad Bar, which conjured up distasteful images of sneeze guards, wilted lettuces and those dressing dispensers in the dining hall, the ones that would get all gross and congealed on the slide-open lids with weeks-old ranch and thousand-island. Rather, this would be a premium dining experience for on-the-go professionals. A loyalty program would incentivize online ordering through a proprietary mobile app, creating a more frictionless meal-fulfillment process. Recipes would be calibrated with seasonal ingredients from local farmers, and curated in collaboration with celebrity chefs, superstar athletes and more … ) Mayor Mockingbird had been a ground-floor investor. The following morning — right before the lunch rush — he was scheduled to make these, his belated condolences and present a commemorative plaque to be displayed semi-permanently outside the storefront. He would be joined by the acting chairman of the tribal council, a senior-ranking representative from the state Office of Indian Affairs, and the salad company’s Chief Diversity Officer. ( … For a limited time only, try our newest salad bowl collab, Beet Don’t Kale My Vibe, inspired by our partnership with Grammy-winning recording artist, Kendrick Lamar.)

Ten times out of ten, he would have delegated this thankless Speechwriting assignment to the liberal arts doofuses on his communications staff, who would have no doubt poured over every word of these brief introductory remarks like they were the goddamned Gettysburg Address. Mother fucking sermon on the mount, ass. However, not only was his office closed for obvious reasons. (These same staffers had spent their afternoon fielding quotes from among the concerningly competitive market for crime scene cleaning crews, — although, by far, their most common customer use case was Suicide by gun — awarding the winning bid to a locally-owned family outfit called Trauma Cleanse, LLC, a name that resonated with them in particular. At this very moment, their certified technicians were power washing the scattered brain matter off the drywall. Back on Main Street, a bounty of scalps had been paraded through town and triumphantly nailed to the wall of Mayor Hixon’s saloon, cleverly called City Hall, right above the bar.) But also, per security protocol for any such violent incident, his entire staff had been furloughed indefinitely effective immediately, while their email and phone servers could be shut down and fully crawled for any forensic evidence. Most likely they were looking for instances of proper protocol not having been followed for flagging threats. Or perhaps on the off chance that someone within the Mayor’s inner circle had colluded to do him harm. Larry wasn’t sure that precaution was altogether necessary in this case. I think we can confidently rule out that the hatchet-wielding lunatic with feces smeared across his face like warpaint — as for the excrement, investigators deduced that it was presumably human, likely the suspect’s own particulat … although whose poop was really anybody’s guess — spewing an incoherent diatribe of mostly racial slurs as he kamikazeyed my office door, was doing so on behalf of a vast political fucking conspiracy. That he was in cahoots with anyone apart from the chorus of voices in his head, is highly unlikely, you nincompoops.

As for the speech, all he’d managed to type thus far were two words … I’m and Sorry. And indeed he was. Sorry for having agreed to participate in this public farce in the first place. (It had been his idea, as he’d already forgotten.) Sorry that he ever left the private sector. Sorry that his loveless marriage would have to last him another two election cycles, as a worst-case scenario for his sputtering political aspirations. Sorry that the woman he did love treated him like her bureaucratic errand boy and non-reciprocal sex toy. (The Pulsator MK-48 — nuclear torpedo or prostate massager?) Sorry that his only son couldn’t walk a straight line. Sorry that he part-owned the city’s first and soon-to-be-last vegan steakhouse. It’s a contradiction in terms, you fools! Yes, Lawrence Mockingbird was feeling very sorry indeed. So sorry that he longed for the only person on this planet who had ever understood his struggle — of course, his mother. The doting Mrs. Helen Mockingbird. At times like these, as there had been many, only she could have consoled him. Isn’t it so unfair? Oh, how she would have moved heaven and earth to spare him from enduring even the mildest frustration. Especially as a schoolboy, when he’d complain incessantly about his homework. It’s unfair, mother. The teacher hadn’t covered this subject adequately. You’re right, dear, she’d say. It is unfair. And then she’d do it for him. No matter the subject. This woman learned Spanish in her spare time, all to help her only son. Su hijito solo. This pattern of co-dependency continued all throughout high school, and into college. Even as a graduate student, he’d call home to her for help with a vexing problem set. Alas, she couldn’t help with this tedious assignment. A five-paragraph political essay prompt. Why should I apologize? I never massacred anybody. I know, Sweetie. It is unfair. No, she was no help to him now. Now that she was put away in an Assisted Living Community. Larry paid her room and board on the first of every month, although he hadn’t had the occasion to visit. Not in the past year. But not because he didn’t want to. He’s not a monster. Simply, he couldn’t bear it. How she couldn’t recognize him.

And so the cursor on the otherwise blank, as yet Untitled document was taunting him.

Come on, Lawrence, think. Okay, how about we don’t open with, Sorry. Yes. Because it sets a bad precedent. Instead, let’s lead with gratitude.

I would like to thank these esteemed representatives of the Tribal Council for joining us today, as well as the fine folks at springleaf for their hospitality. Also, they have marked this momentous occasion — as well as they will be catering a brief reception immediately following the ceremony — with a special edition commemorative salad dish. The Native Lands Southwestern Chipotle Caesar Bowl, most all of the ingredients for which have been sourced in collaboration with peoples of indigenous descent. Additionally, a portion of the proceeds will go to benefit a STEM scholarship fund for reservation students. The Native Lands Southwestern Chipotle Caesar Bowl is available for a limited time only, while supplies last.

Much better. Ease ‘em in. And, now that you got their stomachs churning, hit them on the heartstrings. Time to right an historic wrong—

—But maybe don’t take outright responsibility — like, as in, individually. Lest we forget, Lawrence … first rule of political discourse: never give a convenient soundbite. A personal apology would be all too perfect attack ad fodder. Besides, contrition makes you sound weak.

[Deletes I am, types all with his index fingers (hunt and peck style), We are. Adds, On behalf of all the citizens of this city, I would like to say that.]

And that is how it’s done, son. Dodged another hatchet job. Self-satisfied, Mayor Larry leaned back in his faux leather throne and cracked his knuckles. Now all that’s left is to pad this thing out with a little exposition, borrowing liberally from these bullet points here printed out in outrageously large font by his interns, who had in-turn wholesale copy-pasted the information from an internet encyclopedia entry of some dubious provenance.

Where we now gather before a progressive beacon of entrepreneurial spirit and nutritional inclusivity, here on this hallowed ground, some seven score and four years ago, independent contractors acting on behalf of this municipal government committed our city’s original sin. One for which, too long, has gone unatoned …

Just as he was hitting his rhetorical stride, punching the keys with rhythm and verve like a young Donald Fagen, his creative process was so inconsiderately interrupted …

Jiminy Christopher, Jaime … Would it kill you to knock?

Jaime looked behind himself through the beaded curtain door, perplexed. He came bearing a brown paper bag, keeping his hand outstretched to prevent the visibly pooling grease from seeping onto his #x_brü-branded Workshirt, a selvage chambray with hand-stitch embroidery and pearl snap buttons. (At #x_brü, Merch was a strategic business priority on level par with beer. [Core Value No. Eight: Think outside the Beer.] Jaime painstakingly designed and sourced all pieces in-house himself.)

Well, let’s have it then. Come on. Burgers and fries don’t travel well.

Larry further scrunched his already scrunchy face and tapped his cheap rubber sports watch. Jaime was immediately thrown off guard, having never had the Mayor — whom he considered to be his mentor in personal brand building — behave in such a belligerent way toward him before. It was true that the Mayor typically saved his short temper for the members of his staff and immediate family, who naturally were bound to-a-man, woman and child by airtight non-disclosure agreements. Perhaps being the target of a homicidal maniac had revealed a blemish in his carefully manicured facade of the unflappable, Clintonian/Bushian statesman.

Placing the bag and the plastic soda cup — so extra large as to defy any cup holder that should hope to contain it — a safe distance from the Mayor’s laptop, Jaime eagerly started in on his pre-rehearsed ass-kissing.

Lawrence, I would just like to say how truly sorry I am that you had to endure this trauma. This is a dark day for our city. May I add how I am eternally grateful, foremostly for your safety, but also that the perpetrator of this heinous act of domestic terrorism has been exterminated from—

—Save it, Jaime. I’m fine. And take it easy with the terrorism stuff. This wasn’t a radical idealist. Probably just some junkie. Poor bastard was pumped full of bullets before he even laid eyes on me.

My god. I hadn’t considered that. And this after all you’ve done to rid our streets of the scourge of drugs.

By now Mayor Larry had all-but devoured half his burger. A dollop of special sauce splashed onto the spacebar. Suckling audibly from the bendy straw, with a mouthful of half-chewed, diet cola-soaked meat, he asked the existential question:

Jaime, why are you here?

Because you asked me to deliver your supper?

Which is cold, by the way. Stale fries and a soggy bun. Have I died and this is hell after all? What did I say about fast food never traveling well.

But wasn’t that what you wanted? You insisted—

—I insist you tell me why you’re kissing my butt. Rather, what for. I mean, why … obviously, because I’m the Mayor of a mid-major American city. But, usually you’re much more nuanced in your flattery. Of all people, I should know. Day and night, they come to kiss my butt. Heck, how do you think I got here in the first place? Because I happen to be a world-class butt-kisser myself. Without peer, if I do say so. Although I do see some of myself in you.

Thank you. Jaime said this with the utmost sincerity.

But this … this is something different. Desperation. For the both of our sakes, it’s unbecoming. So, then, spare us, will you? Out with it.

Um. Well, while I’d be loath to trouble you at this time, there is an urgent business matter on which I would seek your wise counsel.

Oh, baloney. You don’t want my advice. You want to couch whatever request your about to make in the form of a question. It’s the oldest trick in the book. I should know. I wrote it. But, fine. At least, now we’re getting somewhere. Please, then, arrive at your ask. Although if it’s another investment you're after I’m afraid the books are closed, indefinitely. The political action committee is a little cash-poor, at the moment. They’re even advising me that I should start self-funding my campaign, in part, if you can believe that. For the optics. And to take some of the heat off. I’ve got the Secretary of State so far up my you-know-what, my proctologist could just as well file a public records request.

Oh, no. We’re not raising a round at the moment. And you’ve already been so generous in that regard. Besides, I think our capitalization requirements have matured beyond the friends and family phase.

Is that so? Well la-di-da. Here’s a bit of unsolicited advice, Jaime: Don’t get in the habit of turning down checks, Jaime. Especially when they aren’t on the table.

You’re right. I’m terribly sorry. I intended no offense. It’s just, as you know, we’ve been positioning ourselves for an acquisition for some time now, and I believe we’re currently optimized as such for just such an exit.

Is that so? Well wouldn’t that be nice. I’m currently optimized for a blow job from Christie Brinkley.

Who is that?

Seriously? Supermodel. Swimsuit issue. She married and subsequently divorced Billy Joel.

Who’s Bil—

—Ah. Don’t you dare … ask me that. [Uncomfortable silence.] You know, it’s my understanding that the markets aren’t exactly foaming for boutique beer makers. So then, by whom, may I ask, are you hoping to be acquired?

By the Wolffenbeir Company, of course.

Thus followed another, even more viscous silence. The mere suggestion of Hildegard — so soon after his crude allusion to oral sex … the receiving of — sent a painful tingle down Mayor Larry’s dungarees. It took him a moment to compose himself.

I’m sorry to say, Jaime, but that’s simply preposterous. What in the world makes you think the Wolffenbeir Company would want to buy a craft brewery?

I know. It was a moonshot, but I think we’re in striking distance of a deal. This is strictly confidential, but I’ve been cultivating a relationship with WIlhem Wolff III, and—

—Wait. I beg yoru pardon, but did you say Wilhelm? Do you mean Billy? As in Billy Wolff, Trip, Born on Third, the last and decidedly least … Jesus, Jaime. How can I put this diplomatically? Take it from a fellow butt-kisser. Billy is a horse’s ass. The poor son of a gun won the egg lottery, and since then he’s spent his entire useless life pissing all over the winning ticket. And now you’re telling me that this is the mule to whom you’ve hitched your wagon?

Sir. Respectfully, I know Billy can be a bit of an eccentric, but I’d hardly call him a lightweight. In fact, he’s the head of the Beverage Advancement Division.

Oh, my, the Beverage Advancement Division. Have you ever heard of anything ever so serious sounding? It must be real. Somebody call the Wall Street Journal. Come on, Jaime. And it’s Was, by the way.

It’s Was what?

Was the Head of something or other, is my understanding. His mother has been in the nasty habit of inventing jobs for him, if only to keep him a safe distance away from the actual business. Only now that he may have stumbled jackass backward into something of actual value, she’s resorted to shuffling him away on some or other makework, wild goose chase. You see, Jaime, our mutual friend Billy is something of a Don Quijote figure. Only he’s trying to fuck the windmill. Come to think of it, I suppose then that would make you his Sancho Panza. Tell me, how’s that going so far?

I’m sorry, I don’t understand the reference. Also, while I certainly empathize with your skepticism, I can assure you of this opportunity’s utmost legitimacy. Until very recently, I had been given assurances that the deal would be presented to the board, imminently. And that, furthermore, approval was all but a formality.

Oh, really? And then what happened?

Well. Just some complications. It’s only temporary. This is coming from Billy himself.

Is that so? Complications, huh. How apropos. Billy is himself a complication. His entire existence on this planet, I mean. A perpetual stillbirth. His mother would tell you so herself, if only she were here. If it were Hildy running for governor, it’d be on a platform of legalising abortions in the one-hundredth trimester. In that regard — socially, I mean — she’s quite liberal. Fiscally, of course, she’s Attila the Hun.

Jaime was yet again confused. Something was — amiss. The Mayor he knew was a champion of a woman’s right to choose. Larry wasn’t his usual self.

Sir, are you feeling alright? You’re not your usual self.

Oh, like you know the usual me. Maybe it’s I’m feeling more sympathetic toward the Right To Lifers, having survived such a brazen attempt on my own. Hey. Now this, perhaps that’s not such a bad idea. What’s another flip flop or two anyway? I’m already running out of real estate in the center. So maybe this time I tack a bit to the Right. My political career is a fetal heartbeat away from flatlining completely.

Jaime hadn’t the slightest idea what the Mayor was talking about. Once more he tried to get through to him.

Mister Mayor. Lawrence. Again, you’ve been so generous, to myself and all the #x_brüers, of which I hope you count yourself among. For that we are eternally grateful. Speaking of Hildegaard, at the risk of asking too much, would you be willing to act as our intermediary to her? I know you two are close. If I could make the connection directly, I’m quite sure I could plead our case as a viable target for corporate takeover. Our brand equity is at an all time high. We project to reach profitability within a five-year window. Production is ramping up—

—Whoa. Wait just a second, Jaime. Ramping up, you say? How, dare I ask, are you affording that? You said so yourself in our last board meeting. You’re debt-financed up to your nipples.

Yes. I’m excited to announce to you now — this with the anticipated capital influx as resultant to our iminent acquiring on behalf by the Wolffenbeir Company — we have secured a handshake agreement to ourselves acquire the new New Frontier production facility before it goes online.

Hearing this, Larry spit out a bit of his soft drink.

Hah! I’ve really got to hand it to you. You’ve got a knack for spending other people’s money. Another quality I also possess in great quantity. Perhaps a political future awaits thee, my son. Although you’re taking a roundabout approach. The New Frontier? You know I divested my interest in that fledgling concern some twenty years ago. Why ever would you wish to own a piece of that money pit?

What do you mean? You started the Newfy. I thought you would be proud of me.

Is that a joke?

No?

Hmm. That’s too bad for you. Well then, it’s time for your last free lesson, Jaime. It may be too late yet for you to learn it, I’m sorry to say, but I implore you to listen all the same. Because unless you’ve got a rich uncle out there whom I’m not aware of, this is the last time we’ll speak. Are you listening? Because here it is:

We aren’t in the business of pride. Look around you. This [the Mayor was again gesticulating, this time with a soggy french fry] … this is the business of debasing ourselves to the highest possible bidder. Now, what you did, was you tried to build something. And good on you for it, my boy. To be sure, it was a quite absurd something which no one needed, but then again are most things. And this something, You tried to build It. Of That, one could be proud, in theory. Of course I won’t be proud of you. Don’t be silly. However what I have done and will continue to do is take that pride and sell it. Or maybe I borrow against it, in a manner of speaking. Securitize it. Whatever the transaction or the financial instrument may be, we are its licensed brokers. It’s our reason for being. Certainly it’s why you’re sitting here today. It’s why tomorrow I’m apologizing for a genocide that happened a century ago out front of a takeout salad store. It’s … you’re like our yeomen farmer, Jaime. A vision somewhere’s way off in the distance. The further we get away from it, the clearer it rounds into view.

Vision. Let’s talk about vision. Entrepreneurs such as ourselves talk of having Vision. It’s possible you do see further in some direction, but your sight is distorted through the jagged prism that is your pride. Because here’s a question: what’s the difference between seeing visions and hearing voices? The answer: very little. Particularly when your head’s too far up your keister to smell your own bull crap. Sound familiar? It should. Because that��s what this is, nine-hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-nine times out of a million. Absolute buloney. But then there’s that one in a million times. Why wouldn’t it be me? There’s your pride. They use on Us. It’s really white slavery.

Who are They? You’ll never know. I do, of course. We all used to know them. Everywhere you looked, their names were carved into marble. Your Rockefellers or Fords, your Carnegies, Vanderbilts and Hearsts. Our dear Wolffs. Not anymore. Unless they suffer a three-quarter’s life crisis and do something foolish, like haul off and buy a football team. Imaging feeling so existentially depressed that you resort to buying the Buffalo Bills. Have some pride and kill yourself. But hey, it happens. Apart from that, though, they’ll remain totally anonymous. That’s how they prefer it these days. To them, pride is a writeoff. Of course, shame comes at a high cost, but they can afford it.

Now where I went wrong was I thought I could be one of them. It started I was just like you. I hung up my shingle. You know that used to be the extent of one’s personal brand. Look at me, mother, I’m a small business owner. Of course we didn’t own anything. Least of which the ground beneath our feet. So, I get wise. Okay, I say, I’ll quit this racquet and start buying up properties, like a real big shot. Strip mall here, warehouse there, condos everywhere you look. I have my own little fiefdoms. And then you give a mouse a cookie … which is to say now that I had the land, of course I wanted the power to go with it. So then I ran for Mayor! Ha! Are you still looking, Mother? I’m the mayor of a mid-major American city. So now I’ve got the power. I’ve got the land. But these people. They’re not people at all. Forgive the cliche, but they’re dieties. Their power is within the land. It rolls the country like the weather. God of fire. God of wind. Natural gasses, precious metals, Drinking Water, fiber optic cable, Old King Coal. Taking it out, putting it in. Transporting it — all around the world. Killing, or at the very least permanently displacing whoever stands in the way, if necessary, which it almost is. Schmucks like you and me? All we’re good for is selling what comes out the other side for a ten-percent commission and a holiday bonus. You had a good month? Congratulations. Here’s a set of steak knives. And you get a company lease on a luxury sedan. Hell, maybe it’ll be a convertible, if you’re lucky. Gold watch and a pretty good pension come time for retirement. And from time to time, the real bosses will come down from their corner offices and their ranches up on magic mountain. They’ll pat you on the back and tell you good job. They might even invite you to one of their secret sex parties. Ah. That’s the closest you’ll get though. All they’re really here for is reminding how truly replaceable you are.

For a moment nobody spoke. All that yapping he did, Mayor Larry understood the dramatic purchase of a well-timed pause. He picked up many such flourishes along the way, studying history’s great speechmakers, with emphases on their cadences. Adolph Hitler — to name one example at random — orated with a rhythm that some Hitler scholars described as, erotic. To start out he lured in his audience with a sort of rhetorical foreplay, in the form of leading questions and some friendly banter. Then gradually he’d build toward his climax. The trademark fascist gesticulations and foaming out the mouth declarations of restoring pride to the father land. For a fact, whether it was due to his undescended testicle or perhaps his micropenis (both alleged), the Fuhrer was known to have suffered acute symptoms of erectile dysfunction, which according to urban legend could only be assuaged by the sexual release he achieved through this, the addressing of large crowds. Which is to say, coloquially, that he got off on that shit. That, and schizer play (also allegedly). And here meanwhile Mayor Larry here would have settled for the occasional blow job.

Wait. What were talking about? I lost my train of thought.

Mayor Larry was daydreaming about Hitler’s genitals again.

Oh, right, Billy Wolff. What am I saying? Everybody knows the story. It’s Icarus, it’s Macbeth. It’s whatever — don’t go chasing waterfalls. You took a wrong shortcut. Now the game starts over. It’s okay. Maybe you’ll make it all back. More than likely, you won’t. But maybe. And if you do, hopefully I’ll still be here to slap you on the back. Until then, goodbye forever, Jim. Thanks for the hamburger.

Jaime, whose ass-kissing days were just about over, had as of this very moment had just about enough of this bullshit. First the Mick was up to his old tricks. Then Billy had up and gone full retard. Now suddenly his trusted mentor, Larry — something of an absent father figure — was forsaking him? And, furthermore, he had the gall to act like it was all for his own good. What the fuck? You have one near death experience and now you’re here doling out life lessons. How about you suck my dick, Lawrence, was how he felt. Although, as much as he would have delighted in telling him so to his scrunchy fucking face, — to suck his dick — just as he had told Billy, Jaime still understood something: that there were guys you could tell to suck your dick, and guys you couldn’t. Mayor Larry wasn’t quite a guy you couldn’t tell to suck your dick, but nonetheless, he thought it prudent to withhold from biting the hand. So, like a big boy, he stood there and took it. Content in the steadfast belief that he would make it all back, albeit probably in some other incarnation. He was Buddhist in his ambition. Willing to do anything in service of his ego god. As Larry alluded, he’d already reinvented himself several times over to get to this point. What makes you think I won’t do it again? Bitch, I’m D.B. Cooper. Madonna. Kaiser Soze, mother fucker. Take your pick. Underestimate me at your mother fucking peril. Fuck you. Fuck. Fuck me. Why couldn’t have I just gone to nursing school? Is it too late to get a masters? Shit. I’d be fucking thirty by the time I graduated. Beside I can’t take on any more debt. Fuck. Fuck it. No. Yes. Fuck yes. I’ll be back. So fucking back. Baby, I’m coming. At least Icarus could fucking fly.

But he didn’t say any of that shit. All he did was clasp his hands together in secular prayer, bowed to his once and former master and made his exit. Thus allowing the Mayor — blissfully oblivious to his mentee’s inner torment — to return to drafting his conciliatory declaration.

On that day which will live in infamy, on this hallowed ground, it was my predecessor in the Mayor’s office who made the fateful decree, that which will echo into eternity:

A dead Indian is the only kind I like. If you see one,

shoot on sight.

Today, as a gesture of my goodwill, I officially rescind that civic order.

[Pause for effect and/or possibly applause]

#novls of tumblr #bitch don't kale my vibe

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neonlittindia · 7 months

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Shine Bright: The World of Custom Neon Lights

Neon lights have been captivating our imagination for decades with their vibrant colors and unique designs. These luminous wonders have graced the facades of businesses, adorned bedrooms, and set the mood for countless events. As technology advances, the world of neon lights has evolved, and custom neon lights are now in the limelight. In this article, we'll explore the fascinating world of Custom Neon Lights, their uses, and how they can add a touch of brilliance to your life.

The Magic of Neon Lights

Neon lights are more than just illumination; they are an art form. The term "neon" often encompasses various types of gas-discharge lamps, which produce a spectrum of colors. Originally used for advertising and signage, neon lights quickly became a symbol of urban culture, creativity, and nostalgia. Their unique, captivating glow is known for transforming any space into a work of art.

Custom Neon Lights: A Personalized Experience

Custom neon lights have taken the art form to the next level. They allow individuals and businesses to express themselves, share a message, or create an ambiance tailored to their specific needs. Here are some aspects that make custom neon lights so special:

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Special Events: Neon lights are a fantastic addition to events such as weddings, parties, and corporate gatherings. They can be used for signage, photo backdrops, or to set the mood with a touch of elegance.

Business Branding: Custom neon lights offer businesses a unique branding opportunity. They can display their logo or a catchy slogan to make a lasting impression on customers.

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Art Installations: Many artists have embraced neon lights as a medium for their creations. Neon art installations have gained popularity in galleries and public spaces for their mesmerizing and attention-grabbing qualities.

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Design Your Concept: First, conceptualize the design you want for your custom neon light. Consider colors, text, and any special shapes that resonate with your vision.

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Budget and Timeline: Discuss your budget and desired timeline with the manufacturer to ensure that they can meet your expectations.

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Custom neon lights are an exciting and creative way to bring a touch of personalization, style, and flair to your space, event, or business. The mesmerizing glow of neon lights is a symbol of artistry, nostalgia, and innovation. So, whether you're looking to enhance your home decor, make a statement at an event, or brand your business, custom neon lights offer a unique and captivating solution that will continue to shine brightly for years to come.

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dallasesc0rts · 1 year

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Financial success Tips For A Men Escort

Fort Worth Escorts

Firstly, how come work as an Carry?: The first step to flourishing as a Male Companion is to certify abdominal muscles intentions behind commencing the job. Most Men's Escorts would explain that they enjoy attractive women and hence, doing work as an Escort comes with provided the vital platform to reach their own potentials truly. You ought to be a staunch adherent of what you rely on and also stand. You have got to note that there are certain limits and work-codes for a Male Escort, it can be required that you do not overstep your bounds.

Fort Worth Escorts

Following is Time Direction, as a Male Take, it is essential to note that will while performing ones duties, time together with attention must which means that be allotted for any close to you. Your skilled duties should not in any respect disturb or have an impact on your personal life. In excess of time fixed which includes a client is less than professional like. However , increased five to fifteen minutes would not pain. In cases with emergencies, exceeding time period could be overlooked nevertheless.

Also, there is a substantial need to enlighten your family members on the nature in the Job. The misstep which some Man Escorts have quite often made is to always keep what they complete to fetch profit a secret. Consequently, in the long run, it has triggered homes to separation due to the low amount of trust inherent inside family. Your family ought to at least have a fundamental idea of what you accomplish for a living. Which knows if they is a ones to proffer certain solutions as soon as problems are experienced?

Now, developing a superior Escort to Clientele Relationship is vital, It has been proved many times that a healthy connection breeds success down the road. As a Male Move, it is important that you know ones own Client inside available, this often assists in times involving conflicts faced privately of the Client. Furthermore, asides the usual pay for being doled released to you as an Carry, incentives could be offered from time to time. The manner associated with communication should also get much attention. Test as much as possible as an Companion to make sure you produce a good rapport with all your client. Also, pungent words should be shunned on your side, and when the lawsuit pursuer uses such key phrases, it is wise to underestimate and continue with the discharge of your assignments, it would enhance a few things: Effectiveness and additionally Efficiency.

Another major tip is Training; It is also essential which as a male carry, you do not go beyond your task description unless fundamental situations demand these. Prying into a client’s personal life uninvited is hugely lacking quality. However , if you treatment to know, there are certain diplomatic ways whereby you may pry into a client’s privacy just by asking questions that can skirt around probable guesses about a person's client’s personal lifetime. Proffesional male escorts should try if you can to avoid giving erectile advances; he will need to stick to the default status quo with regard to if the client asks for such.

Note additionally that you should avoid Serious Emotional Attachments with married Clients: This is important, Male Escorts have often slipped into this specialized sin, building up Attachments in the line of responsibilities hampers effectiveness in addition to prompt discharge from duties. The main reason for your needs being hired for an escort is partially defeated, and slowly but surely your professional occupation is destroyed. It can be dangerous in circumstances when the client has been married, your tangles with your client’s wife or husband could leak, and therefore would surely enter doom. Even if the litigant in question makes love-making advances, it is important that you really control the surroundings, never let the setting control you.

And finally, remain as presentable as ever. Without a doubt, this could cut that you a whole lot of slack for your dedication. Necessary that you present one self in a composed experienced manner, there are times when your career would demand you carry out your requirements in the open, you are that will dress well within a standard fashionable process required of people. Who knows when more clients would desire your services right after they see how gracefully everyone carry yourself? And most would quite possibly go to the extent with observing your romance with your client meticulously! They probably would be considering your service.

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theliterateape · 1 year

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Revision for Comfort? Safety? What the Fuck?

by Don Hall

When I had a VHS player, I used to buy copies of the movies I loved. When it was a cassette player, I bought cassettes. CD player? CDs. DVD player? You get the picture. I like to own my music and film. I don't crave that ownership out of a hoarder's wish (I knew a guy whose house looked like a Blockbuster Video so complete was his collection) but stemming from the days when I couldn't simply summon the viewing of a favorite movie or album. I had to either wait until it was on or own a copy to be played upon demand.

Then came Netflix. Sure, I didn't own the movies but I could rent a copy and watch it five times in a row if I wanted to and that was the convenience I sought. Then it became a streaming platform and, holy shit, I had the entire video store at my will. With Amazon Prime and Apple+ you can even buy the music and the movies to download right on to your computer.

Except...

You don't actually own those purchased albums or movies. You own them as long as A) you stay with Amazon or Apple, B) as long as Amazon and Apple stay in business, and C) as long as the corporation that actually owns the music and film continue to lease them to Amazon and Apple.

This doesn't bother me. I've never been keen on owning a home because it's just renting from a landlord who doesn't fix your toilet if it's broken. I've rented my homes, all apartments, my entire life. The only items I own are my clothes, furniture, and of course my books.

Except...

“Words matter,” begins the discreet notice, which sits at the bottom of the copyright page of Puffin’s latest editions of Roald Dahl’s books. “The wonderful words of Roald Dahl can transport you to different worlds and introduce you to the most marvellous characters. This book was written many years ago, and so we regularly review the language to ensure that it can continue to be enjoyed by all today.”

Put simply: these may not be the words Dahl wrote. The publishers have given themselves licence to edit the writer as they see fit, chopping, altering and adding where necessary to bring his books in line with contemporary sensibilities. By comparing the latest editions with earlier versions of the texts, The Telegraph has found hundreds of changes to Dahl’s stories.

SOURCE

At the behest of sensitivity readers, a special class of censorious job category defined by pouring through a text to zero in on those words and phrases no longer in vogue or considered out-of-date in the current orthodoxy, the estate in charge of Dahl's cannon have edited and changed his words to reflect the tastes of a new secular morality at play.

Recently, I exhorted a young director to defy the limitations on Beckett's Waiting for Godot. This is different than actually changing the text of the play for future generations. One is interpretation; the other is revision. You know who else revises works of art to fit an ideological narrative?

China. You know, the communist dictatorship.

CNN Business and the BBC reported last month that the Chinese changed ending erased the entire explosive final scene [of Fight Club]. In this altered ending, the mayhem was replaced with text onscreen telling audiences that authorities arrived just in time to save the day.

"Through the clue provided by Tyler, the police rapidly figured out the whole plan and arrested all criminals, successfully preventing the bomb from exploding," the caption reads. "After the trial, Tyler was sent to (a) lunatic asylum receiving psychological treatment. He was discharged from the hospital in 2012."

SOURCE

I'd hazard a guess that when, in lockstep with a specific worldview, an industry adopts the practices of an authoritarian regime it might signal some alarm klaxons. Perhaps that's a bit overhyped and, in the most mild take, this represents less censorship and more vandalism. Whichever you buy into, it is still a bizarre and untethered practice to consider.

Among the changes in Dahl's works, according to the Telegraph, include removal of the word "fat," such as when it was used to describe the character of Augustus Gloop from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The word "ugly" was also removed.

Gender-neutral language was also added to describe certain characters, such as in reference to "mothers and fathers," which is now "parents."

In some cases, language was also added, such as in The Witches, in a paragraph about the witches being bald under their wigs. "There are plenty of other reasons why women might wear wigs and there is certainly nothing wrong with that," a new line reads, per the Telegraph.

Slippery slope arguments are almost always fear-based. It isn't a stretch in this case, with major publishing houses cancelling books because of their progressive staffs on the regular, to see where this sort of revisionism leads. We start with children's books written by dead authors we find objectionable. Eeyore is no longer gloomy. He has PTSD and put on anti-depressants. The Grinch isn't just foul, he's an instrument of systemic racism. The little boy in the giving tree will be replaced with a gender fluid kid. The Big Bad Wolf will be rebranded as the Massive Misunderstood Wolf and his enemies will be known as the Three Height-Challenged Omnivorous Hoofed Mammals.

Eventually, any book released becomes a literary deepfake of what the author wrote. I don't read children's books. The issue is strictly theoretical for me. When the estates of Mark Twain's novels come for the insensitive language or the sensitivity readers object to the works of Bukowski or Ginsburg, I'm covered because I own those books. Not the digital versions which I can only ever rent, but the books themselves. In this wave what becomes of Nabokov? Henry Miller? Toni Morrison? Hunter Thompson might as well just be redacted.

So, go out and buy books. The Right are banning them, the Left are revising them, and at least when you buy a book—a real, made of paper and ink book—you actually own it.

#Roald Dahl

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vintherhoffmann · 2 years

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Want To Find Out Something New? Try out Taking Up A Pastime!

Are you currently thinking about choosing a new pastime that is enjoyable for the entire family? Possibly you're searching for some new home improvement task that also includes everyone? In that case, you're lucky since the following write-up is packed with lots of superb advice to locating that excellent hobby in your house. Talk with your friends and relatives while you are thinking of trying a brand new hobby. They may be able to offer you suggestions and tips for one thing you can try which they appreciate. Aside from that, but they may be ready to use up something totally new along with you. That could be a fantastic bonding expertise. Sport fishing is a good interest if you wish to take more time outdoors. It is not necessarily personally taxing and you will have plenty of time to simply loosen up and appreciate mother nature. Think about no matter if you need to try to eat whatever you find. Or even, get and discharge remains a thrilling expertise. Download DutaFilm Embroidery has grown to be a significant popular hobby for ladies. Sure, we have been not within the last century, but it will make very the style document when you are aware how you can embroider the perfect factor. You may embroider a wrist cuff, a scarf, your sneakers and your garments. Think away from the pack to create some thing special and artsy. Why should you try out to make money from the pastime? It really is straightforward, if you earn money carrying out something you adore, you will be upping your revenue and generating wealth. If you are able in order to save all of the profit from your hobby, then you will be able to do your hobby for free and add additional income to carry on. You might not feel that buying and selling things could possibly be deemed a pastime, yet it is. Many people have in fact converted their interest of gonna lawn product sales and flea trading markets into a rewarding online business. It can be as simple as launching an account and listing your goods on the site. An incredible activity to obtain is biking. There's a hurry you may get by using your bike out and just pedaling out in the outdoors. It's loads of fun and you'll also get a very good workout in way too. You simply need a bicycle and you just head out into a path. Remember that safety is essential constantly. It might be an easy task to forget about to pay for interest. You should know all about basic safety in terms of your hobby. An entertaining interest to get is hunting for garments in thrift shops. You don't have to buy your clothes from high end retail shops. You can find plenty of awesome stuff at thrift stores for just a small percentage of your cost. Part of the fun of moving there exists exploring stuff. Why not consider getting food preparation courses if you are searching to get a new pastime? Cooking food classes can vary from covering the basic principles, to finding out how to cook overseas and cultural types of recipes. You can learn a great deal about the world and how various civilizations try to eat once you join cooking courses.

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slotdemegratisrupiah · 2 years

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Selecting Very little Lodge Bonus offer On-line poker Houses

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bankruptcylawyerfontana · 2 years

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Chapter 7 Bankruptcy Fontana and Chapter 13 Filings for a Better Tomorrow

The Problem of Personal Bankruptcy

Any alternative, judicial or otherwise, is a vibrant ray of light and joy in a black void of chaos in a time when the financial crisis and financial instability have sadly become accepted by different lifestyles and also where phrases like “downturn” and “slowdown” have regrettably got to be the top two terms in exactly everyone’s individual vocabulary.

The federal government of the United States offers its citizens and inhabitants at least two different paths toward rebuilding their lives following the Great Fall. Both are intended to offer various levels of respite from an ever-growing financial debt mountain. They are known as Chapter 7 and Chapter 13 bankruptcy processes, and they fall within the country’s bankruptcy laws.

These are not suitable for everyone, despite the fact that they can, in certain cases, open the way for a new dawn and a fresh start. Furthermore, a lot of people are just ineligible for evaluation and potential creditor protection. This page may be helpful in providing the answers to your bankruptcy-related queries if you’re seeking guidance on how to apply for Chapter 7 or Chapter 13 bankruptcy.

Individual Bankruptcy Protection Eligibility

Before going into the specifics of how to file for bankruptcy under current law, it is important to clarify the prerequisites. Under the bankruptcy protection regulations of the US Government, not all types of debt are eligible for relief. These include financial responsibilities incurred as a result of unpaid college loans, tax liens, child support, debts incurred as a result of fraudulent activities, etc.

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Chapter 7 Insolvency

Our culture actively and overtly promotes us to rely on credit. Bankruptcy may be your only choice if your situation gets out of control and can’t be fixed. Chapter 7 is often known as an ultimate bankruptcy or liquidation bankruptcy. As a result, your non-exempt possessions or assets that are not expressly mentioned as being protected by bankruptcy laws might be distributed through an auction.

Your creditors are reimbursed with the money thusly earned. Your financial situation practically comes to an end when you file for Chapter 7 bankruptcy since very little is not affected by the auction, specifically when your liabilities are being discharged. Chapter 7 bankruptcy relief is typically sought by 65% of American customers who declare bankruptcy.

Bankruptcy Under Chapter 13

In contrast to Chapter 7 bankruptcy, which settles your debts by selling your qualifying possessions at a public auction and may cause significant individual economic losses, Chapter 13 bankruptcy offers you a special chance to restructure your finances. You will get instructions from the bankruptcy court with jurisdiction after the bankruptcy court has accepted your petition for investigation.

Your personal possessions and other valuables won’t be sold to the highest bidder, which is the main benefit of Chapter 13 over Chapter 7 bankruptcy. However, in order to qualify for Chapter 13 bankruptcy proceedings, you must have a substantial source of income.

By exercising some self-control and good financial judgment, you may prove to the courts that you will be able to repay your debtors within the allotted time frame. Typically, the courts will allow you three to five years to restructure your finances.

You are under the formal supervision of a trustee, a judicial administrator, during this time. Your bankruptcy lawyer is still in charge of representing you at hearings and providing the bankruptcy proceedings with progress updates.

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Collaborating with a bankruptcy lawyer in your region is the best approach to get trustworthy answers to all of your bankruptcy inquiries whether you’re thinking about filing for bankruptcy or plan to do so soon. The experience of filing a claim in small claims court is considerably different from bankruptcy regulations, which sometimes have exceedingly onerous requirements.

#Chapter 7 Bankruptcy Fontana

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ghanacard2 · 2 years

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Simple Ways To Be successful At Internet Marketing

These days, a whole lot business occurs on the web which everybody should know how essential a powerful Website marketing marketing campaign would be to business achievement. If you are looking for several assistance in order to get the most from your online advertising and marketing attempts, this short article will provide you with some advice that will help. Read business periodicals and classifieds to keep current on new developments and technologies. You might be able to have a head start on the new trend in the event you check out it well before other folks do. Don't be the last individual to know about some thing, read through enough so that you can be considered a leader. E-mails is surely an powerful instrument in web marketing. This is one method where you could maintain your customers educated of your own most recent products and special deals. This is similar to how brick and mortar merchants send direct postal mail brochures, except you will be making use of email addresses as opposed to physical addresses. Accumulate customer feedback from clients and submit them on the internet site. A recommendation builds believability and goodwill for the enterprise. Customer feedback should highlight your business's products or services when demonstrating customer satisfaction. Customer testimonies ought to be honest and real. Pleased buyers will probably be delighted to provide a couple of phrases of compliments for your business. Creating a romantic relationship along with your customer is vital, as this can be done by placing an "about us" weblink in your site. With this portion, it is possible to focus on the new venture of your firm and just how you advanced to what your location is right now. Consist of photos to improve the personal connection with your client. A wonderful way of getting more exposure to your website marketing website is to apply pr releases. Whenever you issue a click discharge online, you will be incorporating clean content material in your Website marketing internet site. This undoubtedly offers you a better presence and will most likely deliver more visitors to your internet site to look at your merchandise. Make on-line video clips an integral part of your online advertising prepare. When was the very last time you observed a relevant video on-line? Your potential customers take pleasure in observing on the internet video lessons such as you, so make sure to post some with a lower-expense or free of charge internet site. Video tutorials are much more likely to get noticed than other forms of content, and definately will take more visitors and company your way.

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goldpoppy4 · 2 years

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Reasons To Use Natural Cleaning Products

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With a humid rag, gently clear off any dust or dust on the within and out of doors of the cabinet doorways, as properly as all sides of the cupboards themselves — together with the highest. For grease splatter, dip your material in undiluted vinegar to rub off the grease, then rinse the rag in warm water to wipe off the vinegar. Wipe down lighting fixtures, mirrors and window remedies.

#清潔公司

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writteninthegarden · 2 years

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Heading Back Home

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Timeline is end of Season 4/Beginning of Season 5

Summary: Reader is a 36 year old Special Agent in White Collar Crime. She and Hotch have been dating for about 5-6 months prior to Aaron’s injury.

Word Count: 2670

Warnings: Sexually suggestive language, brief mention of Aaron’s wounds (no graphic details though, I promise)

Aaron needed to stay in the hospital for a couple weeks, which he was not at all happy about. You quickly learned how difficult and noncompliant of a patient he could be when he decided he was done with something. When he hinted at leaving against medical advice Rossi had all but threatened to have Aaron legally sectioned to remain in the hospital. You weren’t sure if he actually could convince someone to do that, but Aaron apparently wasn’t sure he couldn’t and dropped the issue.

Secretly you were thankful he hadn’t been discharged quite yet. He was still in rough shape and would need help once he went home. You were trying to juggle how you could be there to help him without missing any more work days. It was so hard to not be able to be at his bedside with him each day. You tried your best to wrap up work each night with enough time to stop by before visiting hours ended. The nurses were very kind to you and let you stay a little later since you and Aaron didn’t cause them any trouble. You made a mental note to bring in coffee or some type of food the next time you came to say thank you.

You had tried to bring Aaron anything that might make him more comfortable as he slowly recovered. You couldn’t go into his house to get anything at least initially since it was technically a crime scene. Your best idea was to bring him some gym shorts he could wear under his hospital gown to try and preserve some of his dignity, especially as they wanted him to start getting out of bed and walking around. When you brought them you had asked if he wanted you to help him put them on. You thought his displeased look was at the idea of needing to be dressed, but then he told you he still had a catheter inserted. Well, he didn’t phrase it quite as eloquently, saying he’d have to wait until he didn’t have a tube shoved up his dick.

You hoped to convince him to come stay with you at least when he first got home, but knew that would be a major battle to get him to yes.

“I think it could be good so I can help you as you rest. I can even clear out my spare bedroom and get a twin bed for Jack if you’d like him to visit.”

“I’m not going to rest.”

You sighed. “Okay, darling.”

“Y/N” Aaron said in a serious tone.

“Okay, I get it. No rest. Noted.”

“No, Y/N. Close the door, please and come sit down. I have to tell you something.”

You pulled up the chair you’d grown used to sitting in by his side.

“We’re not going to be able to see Jack for a while. It’s a long story, but we had reason to believe that the man who attacked me might go after Haley and Jack next.”

“What???”

“They’re safe, but even I don’t know where. It was the only way to protect them. Not that you would, but you can’t mention anything about them to anyone at all.”

“Oh, my god. Aaron, I’m so sorry. I guess on one hand it’s a relief they’re safe, but that has to be so difficult for you, especially after all this.”

“It is. It sucks because in a way that psychopath still wins. I can’t see my son. There’s more I need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“You unfortunately don’t qualify for formal protection since you’re not a legal family member. You do have the option to place a request through the Bureau, but if you do they more than likely will immediately transfer you.”

“Oh. Do you think I need protection?”

“Y/N, I don’t honestly know. I never thought this unsub would come after me or my family. The Bureau will cite your training and former firearms training as reason why you could be safe with a new assignment.”

“I don’t regularly carry a weapon in my job now though, so that doesn’t really make sense.”

“I know it’s not the best. I just wanted you to know the option is there if this is too much.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“I figured you would say that.”

“Because I like my job and I like you.”

“Aww, babe.”

“Which is why I’m taking you home with me, Hotchner. I’ll start packing your things.”

“Nope.”

“Just until you get your strength back.

“Are you implying I’m not strong now?” He raised an eyebrow at you and you were thankful for the lighter mood after such a heavy conversation.

“Depends.” You said, cocking an eyebrow back at him.

“On what?”

“Still got that tube up your dick?” You knew it had been removed or else you wouldn’t have gone there.

“See for yourself.”

You sat on the edge of his bed and leaned in to jokingly grab the edge of the sheet covering his legs.

He seized the opportunity to pull you back towards him so you were lying on the edge of his bed with him.

“Aaron…I think that’s exactly the type of heavy lifting you’re not supposed to do.”

“You were already on the bed. I just had to reposition you. Besides, my arms need practice now that I’m out of that sling.”

“Mhmm, sure they do.” You eased yourself under his arm so you still wouldn’t put your body weight against him, but could somewhat cuddle. “Is this okay?”

“It’s better than okay.”

“Aaron?” you whispered.

“Yes, babe” he whispered back.

“Can you protect me?”

He knew you were referring to your earlier conversation. “Always.”

“I know that’s a lot to ask and it’s probably not even fair of me to do that.”

“Nothing about this is fair to anyone, so don’t feel bad asking for what you need.” He leaned over to kiss the top of your head. “You should know though I’ll take that job very seriously. I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you out of my sight.”

“Is that so?”

“And I suppose I could consider going to your place…on a trial basis.”

“Really? And you’ll let me take care of you?”

“Define take care of me.”

“I’d cook for us, make sure you take your medicine, change your bandages and help you shower so I can…take care of you, if you will.”

“Ugh, I can change my own bandages.”

“Some maybe, but it’s not a bad idea for me to know how to do it so I can help you.”

“It’s just that I haven’t even seen my wounds myself yet.”

“We can do it together if you want. I just want to help you heal that sexy body of yours so you can be cleared for more strenuous activity.”

“I like that goal.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Aaron pulled your chin towards him so he could kiss you.

“I missed being able to cuddle and kiss you.”

He pulled you closer and kissed you again at that. “I know, me too. Hospital beds and all the tubes don’t make it easy.”

You nearly nodded off until you heard Aaron’s nurse come in. You sprung up getting ready to apologize for being in the bed with him, as if you needed to prove you weren’t two horny teenagers.

The nurse must’ve noticed you were flustered because she made a don’t worry about it motion with her hand. “Agent Hotchner, I just need to change your bandages and take a look.”

“Would it be possible for me to watch how you do it? I’m going to help him once he’s discharged, but I’ve never done something like this.”

“As long as that’s okay with Agent Hotchner it’s fine with me. We can walk through it again right before he goes home if you want to see it another time.”

You hopped out of his bed to get out of the way and looked at Aaron for the okay.

“That’s fine” he told his nurse.

You’d never admit it, but you were pretty scared to see Aaron’s stab wounds. You’d be faced with the proof that someone had attacked him and worst of all the psycho likely enjoyed it.

You helped Aaron slide his hospital gown down off his arms. Seeing the bandages spread all around his body was the first shock, but you were pretty confident you kept your poker face. As the nurse removed the old bandages one after the other you started to feel a little sick seeing the red wounds. They looked deep and seeing them for yourself also confirmed your suspicion that Aaron was likely downplaying how much pain he was in.

You grabbed his hand that was closest to where you were standing and started lightly running your fingers over his.

The nurse took time to show you what each one looked like and stated aloud what warning signs she’d be looking for in terms of infection. She then walked you through how to reapply a new gauze and sterile bandage.

You asked if there was a way he could shower without getting them wet. She said sponge baths would be the better option at first, but must’ve seen the detest in Aaron’s reaction. She said she’d show you both tricks to cover the bandages in plastic once Aaron was strong enough to shower.

The nurse had barely left his room before Aaron told you “I’m not letting you give me a sponge bath.”

“I figured you’d say that. We’ll figure something out, baby.”

It was finally time to bring Aaron home. You were relieved and stressed at the same time since you weren’t sure how agreeable he’d be to you helping him once it needed to happen.

You got a cup of coffee with Emily that morning while Aaron went for a final scan of some sort.

“So, are you ready to take that grumpy man home by yourself?” Emily asked jokingly.

“I hope so. This is a new side of him. Honestly, I never would’ve guessed he could be such a curmudgeon.

“That’s our Hotch. He likes to be in control and keep his business to himself. Both of which he can’t really do right now. Hence the troll under the bridge side of him comes out.”

You laughed at that. “True, and don’t they say something like a real relationship test is handling someone being sick or traveling together?”

“Hah. Well, I can summarize what traveling with Hotch is like. ‘Good morning. Wheels up in 30.’” Emily said in her best attempt at an Aaron impression.

You both laughed. “Now if he ever says wheels up to me I’ll only think of your impression.”

When you returned to his room you were surprised to find Aaron alone and up out of bed slowly packing his bag.

“I was going to do that for you, handsome.”

“That’s okay. I wanted to get my actual clothes on.”

It took you a second to notice that he didn’t have the IV pole connected to him anymore.

“Ooh, wait I just realized something. No more wires or IV? Are you disconnected now?”

“Yeah, the nurse removed my last IV while you were gone. I’m a free man. No more monitors either.”

You walked up behind him and snuck your arms around his waist. “Hmm, so that means I can finally kiss you and not worry I’m going to set off an alarm if your heart rate goes up?”

“Give it a try.” He turned around so he was facing you now.

You brought his face down to tenderly kiss his lips. He kissed you back and pulled you up against his hospital gown.

“Did I pass the test?”

“Hmm hold on.” You snuck your hand down and teasingly grabbed his crotch. “Yes. This definitely would’ve set off the heart rate monitor. Let’s get Hotch in some pants.”

Aaron gave you a stern look. “You said you’d use that sparingly.”

“And I have. Sit down and I’ll start handing you clothes.”

You had to go to work the next day, but thankfully between Emily, Rossi and Derek you had a solid plan to check up on Aaron. Penelope had also offered to plant nanny cams in your apartment, but thankfully she knew that was too much from your face when she mentioned it. You were still in your probationary period so you couldn’t really take unscheduled days off yet. Thankfully your training officer was understanding and didn’t mark your record for the day you found out Aaron was in the hospital and left work abruptly.

Aaron lasted just under a week in your apartment before he was dropping hints that he wanted to go back to his place. Honestly you knew it was just a matter of time before he insisted and part of you was surprised he nearly stuck it out for the first week.

That weekend you rounded up some of his belongings and ventured over to his place. You had an eerie feeling entering his apartment building, but you kept it to yourself. Aaron must’ve been experiencing so many of his own emotions he’d never admit aloud and you didn’t want to burden him with yours too. You walked fast down the hallway to catch up to him and take the duffel bag from his shoulder. He somehow managed to get that one by you. You took his hand in yours as you approached his front door. He pulled the set of keys for the recently changed locks that Emily had dropped off from his pocket and unlocked the door. He entered first and only briefly paused to take it all in. Then in an odd almost autopilot mode he started to go about his business, sorting through the stack of incoming mail and reorganizing the top of his desk.

You on the other hand were overcome with fear and sadness as you imagined the horrifying scene you didn’t witness, but knew took place here. While the hole in the wall from the gunshot was patched and repainted and the carpet free of any blood stains you knew this was where Aaron had endured an unimaginable amount of pain and nearly died. You could feel the tears making their way up like a water main break and no amount of sniffling or clearing your throat seemed to slow them down. You moved about his apartment wishing you could find a corner or hiding spot to secretly break down, but came up empty handed.

On a return trip out to the living room to grab another bag to start unpacking Aaron quickly noticed your current state. He found you staring as if frozen at the spot where the unsub attacked him. He walked up to you and gently slid an arm around your waist and the other around the back of your neck so his hand could cradle your head. He pulled you close to him and held you tightly. “It’s okay, babe. I’m here. I’m okay. I’ll protect you.”

“But you shouldn’t have to” you said between sniffles into his chest.

“No, no” he gently whispered “that’s how this works. You took care of me and when you need it I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m sorry, Aaron. I’ve seen my share of crime scenes and thought I could keep it together for you…but I just keep picturing you hurt.” You were sobbing into his chest now and felt embarrassed that you’d likely soaked his t-shirt.

“You don’t have to keep anything together for me. It’s completely different when it’s a scene where someone you know was hurt.”

“That’s true.”

“Y/N, I’m going to keep you safe. I can’t always explain all the details or choices I need to make, but I will protect you. I’ll always do what I think is best for you. Can you trust me with that?”

“Yes, I trust you Aaron.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x y/n #hotch

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tvseries-writings · 3 years

Text

This World sucks without you

TW: suicide, death [but happy ending(?)]

Marvel Masterlist ~ buy me a coffee☕️

Epicurus believed there were four ways to escape man's fundamental fears: gods, death, unhappiness and suffering. The fourth way states that physical pain is either bearable or leads us directly to death.

As for the emotional pain, Epicurus said nothing. He didn't say it was a hundred times worse than physical, he didn't say it was worse than a deadly electrical discharge in the chest or the pain that causes cardiac arrest. Epicurus said NOTHING of this, perhaps not to frighten men or perhaps because he had never experienced such pain.

That of your soulmate, of your life that slips through your fingers like fine sand getting lost in the wind. A hole in your chest that you cannot repair, a void you cannot fill and tears that never end.

Not even with a thousand flowers, silent prayers and screams on top of a cliff. Not even with all the time in the world.

Because the pain you are feeling now, the pain you have been feeling for two weeks is not something that will go away easily… you know it will never end, and so is your love for her.

Because that sarcastic, special, funny and sexy ex Russian spy who stole your heart many years ago is gone and you can't go on. You can't sleep without her in your bed, you can't eat if she isn't in front of you with a little smile with every bite you eat, you can't walk if she doesn't hold your hand, you can't breathe if she her forehead is out of touch with yours and you can't stop crying if you don't see her.

People look at you - you with puffy eyes and a red nose and scary dark circles - and they just say: "She saved the universe", "you must be proud of her", "she will remain in our hearts for ever", "she will not be forgotten "," we are here for you, if you need it "," she is a hero"... and these phrases only piss you off more. You don't care if the universe is safe, you're not a hero, you don't give a shit if all those people in that shit world are alive. You care about her and selfishly you would have set the entire universe on fire just to continue having her by your side.

And you hate her, you hate her for choosing the world over you. You hate her for not letting Clint jump and you hate her for abandoning you. You were her wife and she was gone without even thinking about you for a single second. And when Clint came back without her… you hated him, you hated him so much that you ignored his every attempt to have a conversation with you. You had to blame someone and he was the easiest person to blame. But then, after Thanos' defeat and the return of the other half of the Universe, you began to hate Natasha. You hate her for what she did but you love her too much, you have a necklace with her faith of her hanging around your neck and every time you look at it you can't help but burst into tears. You just feel pain, no matter what you do or what you think… you keep feeling pain and it doesn't stop.

Everyone tells you that you will be able to overcome it, that one day this pain will end and yet you look Wanda in the eyes and see the same pain that has been wearing you down since Natasha left. You look at the Sokoviana, the person who of all those you know has lost the most in life and you understand that the pain you feel will never go away.

And you find yourself every day, at seven o'clock, with your forehead resting on the tombstone where Natasha's grave is. It is under a beautiful tree, in a grove that in autumn is filled with the colors that Natasha loved most. And that's right where you are right now.

Your shoes trample the leaves, if Nat were here she would tell you how noisy you are - she would walk over all those dry leaves, without making the slightest noise - and a small smile purses your lips when you picture the scene. But it quickly disappears when you get in front of the tombstone.

NATASHA ROMANOFF

DAUGHTER - SISTER - AVENGER - WIFE

You fall to your knees and place the bouquet of red and black roses in front of the tombstone;

you trace the word "wife" with your index finger and a sob escapes your lips as you begin to cry. The way you met could very well be the opening scene of a movie, or the entire movie, actually. You have no special powers but you have good physical performance and you are a very good sniper.

And you were the New York executioner before you met the Russian who changed your life; you were about to kill a piece of shit of Wall Street that had stolen money from hundreds of people who had trusted him and led them to live on the streets for too much debt and Natasha was literally standing between you and the jerk. Obviously you wore a mask at the time but she had done the research for her. The Russian struck you so much that you got arrested without her even saying a word. Then, thanks to her and that crazy Fury, you joined the Avengers and quit that "Robin Hood" life - no bow and arrow - and started dating. You were married after two years and you two wanted to retire permanently after Thanos' defeat.

Natasha wanted to adopt a child and you couldn't deny her anything ... you also decided who would become of her and you fantasized about how much you would spoil him with his "uncles" and his "aunts".

"Yelena can't be alone with him," was the first thing Natasha had said, a smile badly concealed behind her faux-scared face and you had burst out laughing before you kissed her.

Your body is shaken by sobs when you think back to her smile, her lips against yours and those eyes you loved getting lost in for hours. You loved seeing her sleep, her chest rising rhythmically up and down was one of the most comfortable things you had ever looked at; the serenity of her on her face was something you would have given your life for just to see her always like that.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you rest your forehead against the tombstone.

"I miss you so much Nat, I still love you ... I feel the same feelings I felt for you that day in that alley and now you are gone" your voice is now only a faint whisper. Sobs keep you from speaking and yet you force yourself. You have to talk to her, at least one last time.

"And you know what? I hate you, I hate you for leaving me alone, I hate you for having preferred the world, PEOPLE YOU DON'T KNOW NATASHA INSTEAD OF YOUR FUCKING WIFE. Do you know how I felt ?! Did you think of me for at least a second as you let yourself fall for a stupid, tiny and insignificant stone ?! And you know what sucks the most? I can't hate you because I love you! " Your whispers turn into sobs and sobs into screams. You clap your hands on the ground strewn with leaves; once, twice, three times… You don't stop until you run out of strength and your palms turn red.

Your shoulders drop and you let your arms fall to your sides, leaning your back against the tree and raising a hand to keep it on the tombstone.

“I'm so tired Nat… I don't want to live in this world anymore if you're not here,” you whisper and another couple of tears fall on your jacket.

You smile, a sad but at the same time relieved smile, and take a look at the clock.

"I took some pills before getting out of the car to come here" you close your eyes leaning your head against the wood: "I wrote a note for the others. Wanda saw me writing it but she didn't stop me "

You think back to your heart, which stopped when you saw her on the threshold of your bedroom door, for fear that she would say something to others but then gave you a small smile. One from "I understand you and I will not stop you" before giving you a quick hug.

"And I'm glad she didn't because it means that in a few minutes I'll hear your voice again Nat"

Your hand falls to the ground, unable to hold it up anymore, as your body goes numb. Your muscles relax and you take your last breath before your lifeless body collapses to the ground near your wife's grave.

Epicurus was not a fool, he was able to analyze all four of man's fundamental fears and at the same time deny them all. While not touching on the subject of emotional pain, he wasted many words on the subject of death. The second way, in fact, is precisely the way that indicates how to get rid of the fear of death; in fact it states that death is nothing when we are alive since it is not there (it’s not something that we live directly until, in fact, we don’t die) and when instead there is death, then in that case we would not be there since we would be dead.

And it is precisely by remembering the words of this philosopher that you open your eyes. A strong smell of pancakes invades your nostrils and you immediately wake up. You are in your tower room. Same bed, same decor and Natasha's part is unmade and the sheets are wrinkled.

Your heart starts beating faster as your fingers slide off the side of her bed. They are warm, as if someone just got up.

You jump to your feet and run out of your room to the kitchen. The tower is exactly the same, everything is where it should be.

You come to the kitchen and see it. She is from behind, she is humming something in Russian and is wearing a simple white shirt, she is wearing only underwear and is barefoot. Her shoulders straighten, as if she has sensed your presence, and she turns around.

Only two weeks have passed and yet it seems like an eternity. She is beautiful as always, her red hair frames her face and that smile you love so much about her appears on her face as soon as her gaze lands on you.

"You have always been impatient, printsessa"

Thanks for reading! I almost cried writing this and I hope you enjoyed it (pls, don't hate me). Tell me what you think and send requests because I love to write them <3

P.s: yes, I reposted it :)

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