#which does make me a bad socialist i know i shouldn’t do it

[lesbegays]

working for a very small company with a boss and job i like has in some ways made me a worse socialist and in other ways made me even more firm in my socialist beliefs

#like basically yes i do the occasional unpaid overtime bc i am well aware of the lack of room in the budget for overtime #and there’s shit that needs to get done and no one else to do it bc i’m one of 5 full time employees #which does make me a bad socialist i know i shouldn’t do it #to be clear i’m not being told to work off the clock i’m just not allowed overtime and have been choosing to work over unpaid #rather than leave things undone and make life harder for my future self #anyway but this has also really strengthened my conviction that capitalism is inherently evil #like it is morally wrong of my boss to say no overtime when there is more work to do than can be done in a 40 hour week #but also she works SIGNIFICANTLY more overtime than i do and i know we genuinely can’t afford it and that she doesn’t want to forbid it #but despite her being the most fair boss i’ve ever had and genuinely wanting to pay employees the highest wage she can #and caring about us as humans #the structure of capitalism is such that if she wants to continue running this business she basically has to do shit like that #like basically unless the company becomes internally socialist (this is rural conservative christian south carolina - not happening) #these things pretty much have to happen there has to be a level of exploitation and objectification #not making excuses for her but it’s just proving that even with the best intentions capitalism corrupts

[alpaca-clouds]

Understanding Individualism vs Collectivism

Making that post about individualism and capitalism yesterday, I got some questions, that showed me the same problem as the person I was talking about had: A lot of people do actually not know what individualism and collectivism mean. So, let me try to explain.

I had kinda hoped that Abigail from Philosophy Tube might have made a video on this, but no such luck. So, I guess I have to try and explain it, even though I mostly know it from sociology, rather from the philosophic origins where it comes from.

Basically, both concepts originate with socialist philosophy in the early 19th century, which correctly identified the early capitalist society as individualist and saw the dangers coming with it. It argued that an individualist society will be harmful on a societal level, because the society at large would always focus on the self, rather than the other. Capitalist philosophy however picked this up was like: “Yeah, awesome, right?” And especially in the 20th century they really started to run with it, realizing that they could use it to make people into better consumers.

Now, individualism does not mean “a sense of self”. This is not connected to it. You will still have a sense of self in a collectivist society and nobody says that you shouldn’t have. Rather it means that the focus of everyone should be on the individual. Both themselves – but also the individual actors in society. It is as such not a surprise that the idea of “Great Man Theory” came up and started to thrive during early capitalism in the 19th century.

So, if individualism does not mean “a sense of self”, what does it mean?

I would argue there are two aspects to it. Once the aforementioned tendency to put the individual above the society and apart from it, but also to create and sell a personal philosophy that people are defined by their differences from others, rather than what they have in common. It tells people that they are all so very different from everyone else, which is a useful political tool for capitalism to fight collective actions such as unions, but also collective action for things like environmental protection. In the same vein it is used to keep people riled up against one another within society, as they focus on their differences, rather than what they have in common.

The most anarchistic professor I had at university put it very well: “If you as a worker talk to a factory worker from Bangladesh, you will find you have a lot in common. In fact you will always have more in common with this other worker rather than any billionaire there is.”

Which brings me to the other aspect that individualism is about: It sells you an individualistic dream. Which is why capitalism focuses so much on those rags to riches stories (that tend to be lies most of the time). “See, this millionaire started out his business in daddy’s garage. So you can also become a billionaire if you have the right idea.” Fellow leftist might know the saying: “You are just one bad day away from homelessness, but you will never be a billionaire.” Which is basically the counter argument to this.

See, capitalism tries to convince you, that “I am the better system, because in me you could become a billionaire,” to sell you not only on your own exploitation, but the exploitation of the masses.

And more than that, capitalism also has realized that it can use individualism to make you a better consumer. I alluded to this a bit further up. But the long and short of it is, that capitalism pushes this idea of “you are, what you consume”. Your individuality is defined by the things you spent money on. Maybe by you having the most expensive things, but also by you having maybe the weirdest things or something. You know, the “not like the other girls” girl will probably spend as much, if not more on the things that make her special, as “the other girls”.

This also goes into the whole idea of greenwashing, pinkwashing and rainbow capitalism. All this is about getting you to consume something to gain some sort of individual aspect from it. Basically, through buying the “green” stuff, you are a better consumer.

Ironically this also goes into the entire anti-shipping discourse, which basically also says that your goodness as a person is defined by the things you consume.

Capitalism is selling you your identity. Your individual identity.

But sadly this is an idea very, very deeply engrained into the heads of most who have grown up in capitalism. Because it is everywhere in media. Sure, there is some media that calls it out, but most of it actually peddles the idea of the individual.

Because this is the second aspect at the core of individualism: The myths that only individuals can change something, rather than a collective. Which is what I call out so often when I am talking about the entire punk-genre stuff.

Even though it is less punk, let me take Star Wars as an example, because it is an amazing example of this. Especially the original trilogy, in which the Rebellion battles the Empire. However, the evil Empire is not defeated because the Rebellion manages to somehow outwit or outmaneuvre the Empire. Or because maybe the collective of the workers in the Empire turn against it. Rather it gets defeated because Luke, the individual, turns Darth Vater, an individual, and defeats the Emperor, the individual. Which goes back to this idea of the “great man”. It is those unique individuals who will save the world, rather than collective action.

This idea of some individuals being the ones to save the world, rather than we – the people – as a group and ourselves, is used to keep the people pacified under capitalism. They are waiting for “a good billionaire” to solve climate change, homelessness and all the other problems for us, rather than getting active themselves. They keep telling themselves: “Hey, under capitalism everyone can be a billionaire, including myself, and also my life isn’t that bad right now. So who cares that under socialism/communism everyone could be lifted up?”

Look, folks. I am saying this lovingly. But you are not as much of an individual as you think. You are your own person, but you are not unique. In fact, if you talk to a random person on the street – no matter who they are – and you and them are not instantly judging each other for one reason or another, you will find that you have a lot more in common than you think. Capitalist individualism just taught you to not see this, because your empathy can be its undoing.

#anti capitalism #socialism #communism #individualism #collectivism #anarchism #solarpunk #fandom culture #elon musk #philosophy #collective action #solidarity #empathy #climate change #homelessness

[akabane-yum]

OTP Asks - All Of Them (9-16) <- Part One

For @toorumochi assass :P

For the Angst

9. Have they made each other cry?

Short answer: Yes

Long answer:

Karma knew that Gakushuu would be a difficult person to live with and that he was sensitive despite his hard exterior, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get annoyed too sometimes.

That night they were arguing about who knows what, saying things they didn’t mean, when the insults became half truths and eventually full truths that became insults. Karma said something along the lines of “Oh, and it’s not my fault your dad didn’t raise you right but it your fault that you’re becoming exactly like him, don’t ask me why I’ll need therapy more than twice a week after this.”

If it hadn’t already clicked to Gakushuu that they were fighting fighting before then, now he got the message. He ran out of the room without another word and Karma had to pace to cool down. Karma decided to sleep on the couch that night and only realized Shuu went off crying the next morning, when the air was cold and rigid and Shuu had tear stains under his eyes. Karma didn’t say anything though, he didn’t really know how to fix it. They ended up spending that whole day apart and eventually had a long talk.

———————

Gakushuu made Karma cry when he told him they’d probably end up breaking up. Karma was joking about meeting Shuu’s mom and Shuu just laughed saying he didn’t think they’d make it that far. That messed with Karma’s perception of permanence and what he thought they were. He thought they were gonna get married some day and that they were going to live together and... what? He tried to ask Gakushuu why he thought they wouldn’t make it and Shuu seemed unbothered. He said something about how they were incompatible in many ways and how they were both handfuls and how life would get harder and how Karma probably wouldn’t be able to handle all the weird changes in Gakushuu’s life because of how the businesses was booming. They said goodnight after that and Karma found himself outside at 3am taking a walk. He didn’t realize he was crying till he came home and Shuu asked him why he was crying. His first instinct was to say he was doing drugs but that would get them nowhere. Instead he said he didn’t want to talk about it, and they went to bed. He could think about permanence another day. And he did, they talked about both that and their insecurities going forward to try to salvage their relationship. (I can imagine that this is a few years into their relationship.)

10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.

In another post !

11. What causes them to fight?

The lighthearted answer would be: anything and everything. They fight over how many pillows they need but always laugh about it in the end.

Another answer would be: the fact that at the beginning of their relationship they were insecure about themselves. You know you really shouldn’t get into a relationship until you love yourself enough, at least in most cases. But for them I’m guessing that the mutual attraction was enough for them to get together, which isn’t always bad b u t for them they had a lot to unpack. It’s surprising and maybe even kinda toxic that they stayed together after the first part of their relationship but now they’re happy. I can imagine that they’re happier as adults at least, and that they still do fight over small things like the TV volume but those fights don’t even count as fights. It’s just a little conversation to keep them going yknow?

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Kinda? Gakushuu is a businessman and probably took a course called “creating capitalism” so we can assume he’s pro capitalism, and on the other hand Karma joined the bureaucracy in Japan (and Japan is, if I’m not mistaken, a socialist country) so he’s probably at least pro socialism.

I just want to comment on how this is cool because Gakushuu being pro capitalism is a solo player as the CEO with the most shares of his corporation. Whereas Karma who we assume is pro socialism works as a bureaucrat for the government. Which is cool because capitalism is more about individuals climbing the corporate ladder and whatnot whereas socialism is more of a government intervention thing where the government has control and places limitations. (There’s way more to it but I tried to badly summarize.) So they’re both doing very well in their respective economies. That being said, we could go into the capitalist tendencies in Japan but we won’t! AHEM THE MAIN QUESTION WAS ABOUT POLITICS BUT I WARPED IT SORRY THEYRE PROBABLY BOTH MORE LIBERAL BUT I WONT GO INTO THAT.

Anyways to finish off explaining the “kinda” I answered with, I said kinda because I don’t think they feel strongly enough about their own (preferred) economies to argue about it. Though maybe Karma will complain about some of the disparity in wealth he sees between Gakushuu and others but honestly I don’t see them caring much, since they have the luxury of living in their own bubble of karushuu happy fun. I hope this blurb made sense.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person

Gakushuu would never give up his ambitions to be with Karma. Sounds sad but after letting go of some of those insecurities that were there at first, he’s found his self worth and won’t give up all his hard work for anyone. Is that selfish? Personally I don’t think so, because it would be selfish for someone to ask him to let go of his dreams for them. Karma would never do that anyway, so. By give up his ambitions for Karma I mean like if Karma were to ask Gakushuu to drop his work or him, he’d be dropping Karma.

Karma would never settle down entirely because Gakushuu asked him to. This is similar to the first one but I don’t think he wants to calm down and live in another tropical country and retire young just because they have enough money you know? Not like Gakushuu would ever ask him to slow down but if he did then Karma would still probably work a few jobs because of how boring life would be without something to do. This is basically like Gakushuu’s but I feel like Karma’s is less intense and he wouldn’t break up with Gakushuu right away because of this.

Take that as you will ^^

14. What would be a dealbreaker

This is the same as the last one I think. Telling the other to slow down and pick between their passions (for work lmao) or them. Since it’s the same ish for both of them I don’t think there would be that much of an issue though. Maybe if Karma killed Shuu’s cat then that would be a dealbreaker, who knows.

15. What are traits they dislike in one another?

Karma dislikes how Gakushuu is a workaholic and Gakushuu hates how Karma is taller than him :P also how quick he is at making impulsive decisions. HmMm maybe also how Karma snores- that’s not even a trait i- anywayyyyssss

16. If they broke up, what would be their opinions of each other.

Oh boy. I’ve thought about this for not karushuu things too so here’s my take on this:

Karma would consider Gakushuu as an addition to the toxic people in his life. First his parents, then some of his teachers, and now his first boyfriend. He’d remember the happy moments they had together but quickly try to replace them with the sadder memories. He’d try his best to paint Gakushuu is the worst lighting, he’d villainize (not a word but shh) him so he could go on thinking he didn’t do anything wrong and it was Gakuhsuu’s toxicness that tore them apart.

Gakushuu wouldn’t think of Karma. Not after a bit of time, not because Karma never came to mind again after the breakup, but because any thoughts of Karma would be illegal. Honestly I can see him thinking that his time with Karma was an era of weakness. He can’t go back to that weak state, not even in his memories, so he doesn’t. (Well maybe in the middle of the night some days he does but he’d never admit to that.) I hope my grammar here was bearable lmao.

I’m sorry I’m tired lmao I can’t proofread but yk :))) next part up soon!

#asano gakushuu #assassination classroom #karushuu #karma akabane #karma x gakushuu #shoe #akabane karma #otp #ask otp #angst #breakup #headcanon #otp headcanons #asks #yoit #anyways

[cakesunflower]

Outer Banks Series Rewrite/JJ Maybank Fic Series [5. Midsummers]

Disclaimer: None of the characters (except for Stella) or their dialogues (for the most part) are my own, and belong to the writers & creators of Outer Banks!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read on AO3!

Here’s episode 5 “Midsummers”!

“Dude—Mom catches you out here, and you’re dead.” Stella peeked one eye open, catching sight of her sister standing over her, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised. “You’re literally out in the open.”

Kie’s concern came from the pen Stella was currently twirling between her fingers as she lay on the ground in their backyard. Stella didn’t say anything, instead took another pull from the pen, letting the familiar smoke invade her lungs before blowing it out slowly. The act did its job in calming her down, and Kiara let out a sigh before shifting to sit down next to Stella, before going down on her back, too.

Stella could feel her sister’s gaze on her as Kie turned her head to look at her, but Stella kept her gaze up at the sky. It was sort of cloudy, but there wasn’t a threat for rain. If there had been, the celebration later tonight would’ve been rescheduled ages ago.

“Look, I know you’re worried about JJ—” Kie began, but Stella cut her off.

“He willingly let himself get arrested for something he didn’t do, and he has a drug-addict, abusive dad to go back home to. We haven’t heard from him yet.” Stella looked at Kie, then, jaw hard. “Of course I’m worried.”

Kie’s gaze was soft with sympathy, but Stella could see her own concern swimming, too. After all, Kie cared about JJ as well. Maybe not in the way Stella did, but just as good. “He’ll turn up,” Kie assured. “He always does.”

Despite Kie’s efforts, Stella wasn’t all that comforted. And maybe Kie saw the deep worry that had etched itself into Stella’s features, because Kie’s face softened even more, looking at her sister gently as she asked, “What’s going on?”

Stella’s throat worked as her heart drummed in her chest, forcing herself into a sitting position while Kie kept on her back, looking up at her. For a moment, Stella hesitantly chewed on her lower lip, wondering if now was the right time to indulge, but it was Kie. It was her sister, and if Stella couldn’t tell her, she couldn’t tell anyone.

“JJ and I kissed.” There. She said it. Now it was out in the open.

Kie blinked once before her eyes widened almost comically, shooting up in a sitting position opposite of Stella as she demanded, “What? When?”

“Yesterday,” Stella admitted, stomach flipping as memories of her and JJ’s actions played through her mind like her favorite movie. She couldn’t stop the small smile from playing on her lips. “We were at John B’s, before coming to the summer series.” She fiddled with the pen between her fingers. “It just—it kind of just happened.”

Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “It didn’t kind of just happen,” she mocked. “This has been waiting to happen for so Goddamn long.” Stella tried not to laugh at the happiness shining in Kie’s eyes, which did a lot to relax Stella. She’d been worried Kie would ram on her for breaking one of their friend group rules, but Kie seemed anything but disappointed. Her eyes widened then, shoulders lifting. “Oh, shit, John B and Pope owe me twenty bucks!”

Stella blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Kie snickered, looking all too delighted. “We kind of had a bet going on over how long it’d take for you and JJ to get together.” Stella’s eyes widened, jaw dropping in disbelief. “I bet it’d happen before Midsummers and would you look at that! You just made me forty bucks richer, sis.”

“Wha—” Stella cut herself off with a scoff, ripping up some grass before tossing it at Kie. She shrieked through a laugh, jerking back before brushing away the pieces of grass. “Are you kidding me?! You guys bet on us?”

“Of course we did,” Kie responded with a smirk, not at all looking apologetic. At Stella’s gaping expression, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Stel. You two have been dancing around each other for so fucking long. We were getting tired of waiting, so we thought we’d have some fun with it,” she finished with a shrug.

Stella couldn’t believe what she was hearing, cheeks heating up at the information. She wasn’t mad or upset that her sister and friends bet on when she and JJ would get together—she was just surprised, and a little bit amused. She wondered how long the bet had been going on for. But instead of asking that, she instead inquired, “So I’m guessing JJ and I are in the clear for breaking the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule?”

Kie waved her off, smile still in place. “You two are the exception to the rule,” she said confidently before crossing her legs and shooting Stella an expectant look. “So? Tell me how it was.” She quickly held a hand up. “But not too many details because it’s JJ and he’s like my brother and, ew, gross. But I still wanna know! How’d it happen?”

At that, the heat in Stella’s cheeks intensified into a fire as she recalled every single detail from yesterday—as if she could ever forget. “I was, uh, persuading him to come to the summer series with us.”

Kie’s eyebrows shot up. “Persuading, huh?” she repeated with an impish grin, prompting Stella to let out a giggle. “Well, looks like it worked. Not that I’m surprised. That boy is stupid for you.”

Stella pressed her lips together to keep her giddy smile from widening. “Stop.”

Kie snickered. “Man, you two are gonna be unbearable now, aren’t you? All over each other all of the time.”

“Dude, I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Stella instantly responded with a shake of her head. “All we did was kiss. We’re not suddenly together, Kie.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Only a matter of time.”

Stella’s heart fluttered in her chest. Of course she wanted to be with JJ—it was all she could think about for so long. After that kiss, it was closer to being a reality than she could ever imagine, but they needed to talk about it, first. “Maybe. But first he needs to let us know he’s okay and that his dad didn’t fucking kill him.”

Her words were tight in her throat as she said them, sending a new jolt of worry through her. JJ never really talked about it, but she knew the kind of man his dad was, knew what he was capable of. JJ getting arrested wasn’t going to go over well; it wouldn’t with any parent, but God only knew how Luke Maybank would react to it. So, yeah, Stella was sick with worry over JJ, and she just fucking wished he’d call or text her back.

Kie sighed. “Listen, maybe—”

Whatever Kie was about to say was interrupted by their mother’s voice shouting at them from the back porch. “Girls! Get in here! You need to start getting ready.” Simultaneously, both Stella and Kie threw their heads back and groaned, loudly—loud enough for Mrs. Carrera to hear them. “I don’t wanna hear it! Get your butts in here now!”

They stood up, and as Stella shoved her pen in the pocket of her shorts, Kie grumbled, “I hate everything.”

While every other soul on Figure Eight either was overjoyed to be attending Midsummers or envious that they couldn’t, Stella and Kiara were probably the only ones who hated the party. For Kie, it was more of a socialist thing that Stella respected her for, but she also knew that her sister’s disgust with Midsummers, ultimately, existed for the same reason as Stella’s: they hated the people they were surrounded by.

All of the Kooks would be gathered tonight for the party—this year a celebration for Ward Cameron, A.K.A the father of Sarah Cameron, Kie’s worst enemy. Stella didn’t care what the party was for—she despised it. The most Stella liked to dress up was in clothes of her choice, and sure that could sometimes include make-up and dresses, but not full on evening gowns with flowers in her hair. It often felt like she was getting dressed up as a lamb for a slaughter, being pushed into a crowd of Kooks who thought they were better than everyone else because of their overflowing pockets. The adults were bad enough—Stella did not want to even see the people her age.

Namely Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and anyone who was associated with them. Especially after what they did to JJ and Pope yesterday. Dicks.

But Midsummers, much to both Stella and Kie’s chagrin, was important to their parents, especially their mother. So as soon as the two girls returned inside the house, Mrs. Carrera was ushering them towards the bathrooms, like they were toddlers who needed supervised bath times.

“Hold on a second—” Mr. Carrera paused, and Stella and Kie exchanged looks when their mom sniffed the air around them. Her eyes then zeroed in on Stella, hands on her hips and eyes blazing as she demanded, “Did you just smoke, Stella?”

Knowing there was no point in lying, Stella huffed. “I needed something to take the edge off if I have to go to this stupid party.”

This wasn’t the first time their mom caught them smoking or smelling of weed, but it pissed her off just the same. While Kie tried to stifle a smile, Mrs. Carrera glared daggers at her Stella. “You’re not getting out of this, Stella. You better drown yourself in body wash and perfume when you get ready.”

Stella rolled her eyes behind her mom’s back, but listened all the same, albeit reluctantly. Kie was the first to hop into the shower in their shared bathroom, so Stella took the time to lay in her bed and unlock her phone, hoping to see a text or missed call from JJ. Her heart jumped when she saw just one text from him, chest tight as she read it quickly.

JJ: Don’t worry about me. I’m good. I’ll see u later.

That was it. Just ten words of reassurance and then nothing. Part of Stella was relieved to have received anything from him at all, but another part still felt worried and a little annoyed. She—all of them—had been worried sick over him after yesterday, and this was all he could say? Stella figured she shouldn’t be too surprised. It was typical JJ behavior. He got in a bind and somehow got himself out of it, and never really let his friends in on if anything was wrong. But the tough guy persona could only get him so far.

Chewing on her lower lip, Stella drafted a text, but not to JJ. Instead, she sent a message to John B.

Stella: You heard from JJ? Do you think he’s okay?

John B responded within moments.

John B: Yeah, it’s all good. I’m with him right now. We’ll see you guys tonight, alright? Keep an eye out.

Stella blinked at the cryptic message, wondering what the hell he was talking about. But if recent circumstances were any indicator, something was probably going down tonight. Stella’s stomach flipped in both apprehension and excitement. These boys might be the death of her.

Soon enough, Kie was out of the bathroom and it was Stella’s turn. She showered and brushed her teeth, stepping back into her room to catch sight of a satin slip dress with a halter neck waiting for her on her bed. It was a pretty golden color with a V-neck trimmed with lace, and a pair of white and gold sandals were waiting by the bed, too. Stella huffed, the towel wrapped tightly around her. She knew for a fact that her mother thought she needed to have everything out for her otherwise Stella would be useless in getting dressed for Midsummers. It was kind of insulting.

Stella expertly dried her hair, letting the natural curls come into place, before doing her makeup. She kept it light, as always, because not even Midsummers was going to make her slap on a face full of makeup, especially in the middle of summer. Some foundation, mascara, highlighter, and lipstick was as far as she went, with her jewelry consisting of a dainty diamond star necklace and the rings on her fingers.

“Oh, good, you’re dressed,” Mrs. Carrera said upon entering her room. “Come on, let me do your hair.”

Stella frowned but listened, sitting down in front of her dresser while her mom stood behind her. She worked quickly and efficiently, braiding back the two front locks of her hair and intertwining small yellow flowers in them that Stella tried not to wrinkle her nose at.

As her mom worked, Kie wandered into Stella’s room. Her slip dress was spaghetti strapped and a lavender color, a couple of layered necklaces around her neck, and her hair down in an updo with a crown of pink and purple flowers and locks of curly hair framing her face. She looked stunning, even with that scowl she wore as she stormed into the room.

“This is disgusting,” she announced without preamble.

Mrs. Carrera wove another flower into Stella’s braid, her voice dry above her as she responded, “I know. It’s just horrible. I’m asking you two to relax and go to a fun party.”

Kie scoffed, towering over their mom. They may be twins, but Kie somehow got the tall gene from their dad, standing at the elegant 5’8”, while Stella hadn’t grown past 5’5”. “We look like bourgeoisie pigs.”

Stella tried to keep the snort from escaping, covering it up with a cough as their mom finally patted down Stella’s hair, letting out a satisfied hum before stepping back. She shot Kie an exasperated look and said, “Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?”

Kie scowled and Stella’s face scrunched up. This was so much more than that. She twisted around in the seat and stood up, crossing her arms and siding with Kie, “Mom, people not three miles from here have no power, no running water—and we’re going to Midsummers.”

Kie nodded vigorously, gesturing to Stella. “That’s so tone deaf.”

Mrs. Carrera huffed, picking up the little pouch she’d dropped on the dressing table and pulling out the diamond earrings. As she put one in, she said, “Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island Club?”

Both Stella and Kie rolled their eyes, having heard this a hundred times before. “Yeah, Mom, how could we forget?” Stella sighed. “You had to grovel for, like, ten years—”

“Twelve,” Mrs. Carrera corrected, “and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough, and do you know why we did that?”

Kie wasn’t impressed. “To keep up with the Joneses?”

Mrs. Carrera’s hands were on her hips, looking at her daughter pointedly. “No. So you two could have the experiences that I had as a child. Sweethearts, do you know what the Island Club is?”

“A factory farm for debutantes,” Kie flatly said at the same time Stella said, “Where brain cells go to die.”

Kie gave her a subtle fist bump as their mother glared at them before smiling exasperatedly. She placed one hand on each of their cheeks, looking at both of them as she said, “It is a nice place, with nice people, where you can do fun stuff.”

Neither of them bought the company line. “With out of touch rich people,” Stella added.

Kie rightfully finished, “While the island sinks slowly into the ocean.”

Their mom dropped her hands from their cheeks, stepping back and shooting them a look. Clearly, she was done trying with her stubborn daughters. “Okay, I want you two to put on your party faces if you wanna live,” she said before walking out of the room.

Both Stella and Kie sighed, looking at each other in resigned defeat. Stella picked up her pen, offering a half hearted smile. “Wanna take a hit before we go?”

Kie scoffed, taking it from her. “Or maybe ten.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the girls were at the Island Club with their parents, and instead of doing the polite thing and greeting the other party goers, Stella spotted a familiar face and grabbed Kie’s hand, jerking her chin to where Pope was working out on the lawn at the grill. She’d almost forgotten that he was working the party with his dad. Thank God for small miracles.

As they approached him, his back to the girls, Kie startled Stella by speaking in a terrible British accent, “Excuse me, sir. Do we have to shuck these ourselves?” Pope swiveled around as Kie grinned and Stella shook her head in bemusement. “’Cause it might mess up my costume.”

Pope chuckled. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” he asked and Stella stepped forward with a laugh, slapping her hand against his, front and back, before ending with a snap of her fingers. Their handshake. As he repeated the act with Kie, Pope added, “That accent was bad.”

Kie nodded. “It was. I was gonna let it go.”

Stella scoffed. “I wish you had,” she said as they came to stand next to Pope, arms folded across her chest. The three of them observed the scene before them, of all the guests gathered around in their fancy dresses and suits, drinking from flutes of champagne or drinks from the bar. “You ever seen this many Kooks in one place?”

“Yeah. Last year,” Pope answered.

Kie was squinting against the sun, but just like Stella’s, her brown skin glowed a pretty golden color against it. “We’re in the lion’s den.”

“Exactly.”

Pope glanced at the two of them, gaze lingering on Stella longer as he asked, “Have you heard from JJ?”

Kie shook her head. “No.”

“Just a text,” Stella answered, prompting Kie to look towards her, raising an eyebrow. Stella’s lips pursed. “He said he was okay and not to worry about him. But I won’t really believe it until I see him.”

“He’ll be all right,” Kie said, frowning to herself. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach.”

Stella swallowed inaudibly. Kie wasn’t really wrong.

“It’s all my fault,” Pope said, the guilt thick in his tone as he frowned at nothing. He looked like he might be sick over everything that’s happened.

Stella frowned as Kie said, “Uh, you didn’t do this, Pope.”

“Yeah,” Stella chimed in firmly. “Topper almost killed you. Remember?”

He shot her a dry look. “Not something I can forget.”

Stella shot him a small smile. “JJ was just trying to do right by you. He—he knew what he was doing.” She stumbled over her words briefly because, well, she wasn’t entirely sure if she believed them. She believed that JJ thought he was doing the right thing, but getting arrested was no small thing. He was just adding onto his record, and this time for something he didn’t even do. JJ put loyalty above anything else, and it was one of her favorite things about him—until it landed him in trouble he might not be able to get out of.

Midsummers, as expected, was boring as usual. The adults drank and the teens snuck in their own alcohol in hidden flasks, dancing to the music from the live band while almost everyone kissed Ward Cameron’s ass. Stella stuck by Kie’s side, mostly because she didn’t care for anyone else there and because Kie kept glaring at Sarah Cameron, who looked like the perfect Kook princess. She was missing her not-so-Prince Charming, Topper, who seemed to be sticking by Rafe and Kelce’s sides than with Sarah. Hmm. Interesting.

At one point, Stella excused herself to go to the bathroom, walking inside the country club and down the hall. She did her business, ignoring the giggles of the few other girls inside as she washed her hands. Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, however, she let out a gasp and stumbled into the doorframe as a figure rushed off in front of her, her gaze instantly following.

She’d recognize those blonde locks anywhere.

Stella’s heart thundered, gripping the doorframe tightly as she called out, “JJ?”

*****

Despite the severity of needing to find a hiding spot or escape, the sound of Stella’s voice had JJ stopping in his tracks. He turned, catching sight of her down the hall, too far down the hall, looking every bit as breathtaking as he expected her to in a golden dress that hugged her so perfectly. And the way she was looking at him—the surprise and relief and tenderness he was sure she reserved just for him—had JJ’s heart pounding right out of his chest, and not just because he was trying to save himself at the moment.

“Stella—” JJ stopped, looking through the glass of the doors, seeing Rafe, Kelce, and three of their suited up buddies purposefully making their way over. “Shit.” His blue eyes met her concerned brown ones. “Sweetheart, I’ll explain everything later, but I gotta run right now. Just—I’ll see you in a little, okay?”

“Wait, JJ—”

But he didn’t stick around, as much as he wanted to, and instead turned and ran off just as he heard Rafe and his buddies walk in. They’d spotted him talking to Sarah because he’d needed to give her a letter from John B, after he’d spoken to and received a surprising hug from Pope, and now they were hot on his ass looking to throw more punches. JJ’d already received a beating from his dad—he didn’t need anymore, thank you very much.

Except he made his way into the men’s room, and Rafe and his buddies were pretty fast and managed to corner him no problem. Five against one—this was totally fair. Assholes.

Rafe pushed him and JJ grunted, struggling as Kelce came up behind him and locked an arm around the front of his neck, the other keeping his head in place as JJ grabbed at Kelce’s arm to loosen the grip. He struggled, heart pounding, as Rafe looked at his friends. “Hold him still. What—what do you think? A four iron, right?” He mimicked holding a golf club. “Keep his head still. I’m gonna line this up.”

JJ didn’t make it easy for Kelce to keep him still. “Very Rafe of you,” JJ said through gritted teeth. “Five on one?”

Rafe looked pristine in his stupid blue suit and bowtie. JJ hoped he’d choke on it. “If you could please stop talking? It’s very disrespectful. I’m trying to hit a ball.” Oh, fuck no. “Learn your etiquette, my friend.”

JJ kept grunting, struggling against Kelce, using his hands as much as he could to try and get away. JJ’s voice was hoarse against Kelce’s grip as he spat back, “I’m gonna kick your teeth in.” As much fire as there was in his voice, JJ wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to deliver on his promise. Not when the odds were stacked against him.

Rafe smirked sardonically, crouching to look up at JJ with a mocking sort of sympathy. “Your face looks really bad. Starting to look like your dad a lot more.”

The insult was grating, especially given that the bruises and cuts on his face were courtesy of his father. JJ couldn’t do much more than spit in Rafe’s face. He jerked back, wiping the saliva off his face as he grinned. “Oh, shit. Alright. It was—”

The lights began flickering. “Gentlemen!” Kelce roughly let go of JJ and pushed him off, prompting the blonde to struggle before he righted himself. The security guard approached them. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh! Pardon me, officer. No, there’s not an issue. I just—” JJ cut himself off, his breathing labored as he panted to catch his breath. He looked at the others and JJ ran his fingers through his hair before deciding on a different course of action. One he knew would likely get him out of this. “Actually, yes. No, there is an issue. Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep!” He waved a finger around. “Call it in, right?” The others looked at him, trying to appear casual and like they weren’t doing anything wrong. “Blatant disrespect for private property.”

Rafe clicked his tongue, scratching his ear. “Yeah.”

JJ turned to the guard. “I’m in violation of all kinds of shit, sir, but these young gentlemen—” He made a show of righting Kelce’s bowtie before he jerked him away.

“Don’t touch my shit,” Kelce said lowly.

JJ continued, “Uh, caught me, sir, and they’re about to take me away. And that’s what you should do.” He held his fists up like he was ready to be handcuffed. Again. “Escort me out of here. You got me.”

The guard grabbed his arm. JJ was relieved. “Come on.”

“All right.” JJ looked over his shoulder as the guard pulled him out, looking at the Kooks. “Fix that tie, son,” he said to Kelce before looking at Rafe. “You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You Powerpuff Girls have fun,” he turned back around.

Rafe took a step forward, his voice smug. “Tell Stella she looks pretty hot for a scarred Pogue.”

Fire erupted in JJ’s veins at Rafe’s comment, a newfound anger rushing through him at the blatant insult from the son of a bitch. JJ didn’t care who they were—nobody talked about Stella like that. Not at all, not in front of him. JJ’s body moved at his own accord, a low growl escaping him as he jerked away from the guard and tried to launch himself at Rafe, consequences be damned of a five against one. The asshole insulted Stella. JJ couldn’t just let him get away with that.

He rushed towards Rafe, only for Kelce to jump in and push him away as the guard came to his back and pulled him away. “Hey! Stop it. Come here! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

But JJ struggled, the urge to bury his fist in Rafe’s face overwhelming after his words. “You think I’m afraid of you, bro?”

The guard pulled him back. “Come on.”

JJ turned and was guided out as Rafe’s voice followed him out of the locker room. “Hey, safe travels back to the cut!”

JJ shouted back, “This ain’t over!”

The guard didn’t let his grip on JJ go as he guided him down the halls and towards the doors, his grip tight as they burst through the doors out onto the patio. “Look, man, I can walk myself!” JJ exclaimed, earning gasps and looks from the guests at him being escorted out. “I got legs. Can you see that, brother?”

The guard didn’t seem to care. “Come on.”

“I really appreciate what you did back there. Let me just walk out by myself.” He struggled against the guard’s grip before spotting the older gentleman from earlier who had asked JJ for a drink. At this point, JJ didn’t care for the attention he was drawing on himself, stumbling over to where the man stood. “Mr. Dunleavy, I see you got your drink. Good, that’s really nice of you. I’m actually gonna down that,” he said quickly before grabbing the drink and downing the whiskey in one gulp.

The man gaped at him, the guard apologized before pulling JJ away. Everyone was watching, murmuring, and JJ never had mastered the art of subtlety, so he made a commotion as he was so kindly escorted out. Might as fucking well go out with a bang.

“Let go of him!” JJ turned at the sound of Stella’s voice, standing up on the patio with Kie by her side. Their parents were behind them, quietly telling Stella to stay quiet while her gaze met JJ’s. He stopped, kind of fucking mesmerized by the sight of her. “You can’t just boot him!”

The guard stopped, still holding onto JJ, who was still watching her. “Excuse me, ma’am?” the guard asked.

“I invited him here,” Stella continued, her voice loud and carrying over the newfound silence amongst the crowd. Everyone was looking at her, but she didn’t seem to give a shit, and JJ kind of fell in love with her all over again.

Next to her, JJ could hear her mom say, “Stella, stop it.”

“No, she’s right,” Kie spoke up, glaring at her parents and then at the guard. “We’re members of this club.”

“Girls, stop it,” Mr. Carrera seemed to be saying to them.

JJ took the opportunity of the guard being distracted to jerk out of his grip and push him, wincing as the man went stumbling into a waiter carrying a tray full of glasses that went shattering on the ground. “Sorry about that!” JJ said over the commotion before looking towards the girls. He pointed at them, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. “Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, ladies.” His gaze found Pope’s amidst the crowd’s. “Pope, you as well, all right? Rixon’s cove. Let’s roll.” He was walking backwards, people making their way for him as they all gaped at him in disbelief and annoyance. JJ looked back at the girls, holding his arm up. “All right, girls, come on.” He gripped his wrist. “Workers of the world unite. Throw off your chains!”

His gaze met Stella’s, who was watching him in, what he realized with relief, was amusement. He saw the looks she and Kie exchanged, a silent communication going on between the twins while their parents most definitely murmured warnings at them. And then, much to JJ’s relief, Stella and Kie broke away before running down the stairs.

JJ grinned widely, finally facing John B, who had been watching the whole thing with a grin. “Colonel.”

John B returned the salute JJ offered him. “Captain.”

JJ grinned. “Mission accomplished, sir.”

John B laughed as JJ shouted for the girls, watching as Pope pulled off his apron and handed it to his dad before running towards John B and JJ, all the while Mr. Heyward yelled, “Don’t do this! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

But Pope didn’t listen, instead high fived John B and JJ, before John B ran off ahead and the two of them faced the girls running over, as well. Kie and Pope ran side by side, laughing, and JJ opened his arms so Stella could run into his embrace, and he laughed into her neck as he lifted her off the ground with a spin before setting her down, grasping her hand in his, and following the others as they ran.

“Later, losers!” John B shouted over his shoulder towards the partygoers.

Stella was laughing, the sound brilliant and wonderful in JJ’s ears as Kie cheered while they ran. JJ couldn’t help but laugh as well. It may have been a shitty couple of days, but at least he had his friends.

*****

The fire crackled between them as Stella sat on a log next to JJ. The cicadas were chirping against the otherwise quiet of the night, and JJ had changed out of the waiter get up and was back in his signature hat, shirt, and shorts combo. The sight of the shark tooth necklace Stella had gifted him around his neck always made her chest tighten in the best way. She and Kie were still in their Midsummers dresses, but mosquitos and bugs never bothered Stella, so she sat comfortably as the fire warmed them.

She kept looking towards JJ, though—at the cuts and bruises on his face. The sight of him injured tightened her chest uncomfortably, made her stomach twist nauseatingly. No doubt his dad had done this to him, and it enraged her. She wished, with every fiber of her being, that she could get him as far away from his dad as possible. It hurt, so badly, to see JJ injured at the hands of his abusive father. JJ, despite what others may see as faults and flaws, was probably the best person she knew. He had such a big heart, a soul that deserved to be loved and protected instead of stepped on and beaten. She desperately wished she could protect him from the cruelty of others. He deserved someone to do that for him.

“Hey, guys. So, like, my dad’s already gonna kill me,” Pope said as he and John B dropped some sticks to feed the fire before sitting down. “So what’s this mandatory meeting about?”

Stella watched as John B looked at JJ, pointing at him as if he needed permission. JJ nodded. “Might as well tell him, man, before we’re gaffed.”

John B smiled like he held some kind of secret. “You ready for this?” he asked, looking at Kie and Stella.

The two girls nodded impatiently. “Yeah.”

The fire glowed against John B’s skin as he looked at all of them. “So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant.”

Stella blinked as Pope groaned. “Oh, my God. Here we go again with this.”

Next to her, JJ sat up, holding out a calming hand to Pope. “No, all right, wait. Hear him out, all right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Pope and the girls.

John B had a finger to his lips before continuing, “It’s been here this whole time.” He looked to Kie. “It’s on the island.”

Her expression was one of shocked disbelief. “Are you serious?” She looked at John B before laughing in astonishment. “Oh, my God.”

Pope held up a hand. “I’d like to voice my skepticism.”

Stella was still trying to wrap her head around what John B said as he stood up. “I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?”

Pope rolled his eyes. “Proceed.”

John B held up a piece of paper he pulled out from his bag, proceeding to tell them about a letter he had from Denmark Tanny, a slave who had survived the wreck of the Royal Merchant. He showed it to Pope and the girls, telling them that the slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but that his dad found the complete manifest—his big discovery. Stella listened attentively, mouth agape, looking towards JJ who nodded with a smile on his face. He knew all of this already, it seemed. It was probably why he and John B had been together earlier.

“So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom,” John B was saying. “After that, he bought his farm. Drumroll, please, because that farm is,” he paused dramatically as the group of them slapped their knees with their hands. “Tannyhill Plantation.”

Kie stopped. “Tannyhill?”

John B nodded, standing like a professor giving a lecture. “Yeah. So, after that, he used his money to free even more slaves, and then he sold a shit-ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and then they decide to lynch him. So on the day they were coming to get him, he writes a letter to his son as a farewell, and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about where to find the gold.”

John B had Stella’s attention as she hung onto his every word, shaking her head as she asked, “Where?”

John B grinned. “Harvest the wheat in parcel nine, near the water.” He held up a hand. “Except, there is no wheat. You see, wheat is code for gold. Check this out.” He walked over to Pope, pointing at something in the paper Pope was holding. Stella leaned over to look as well. “The gold is in parcel nine, near the water.”

Kie laughed in disbelief as Pope murmured, “Holy shit.”

John B slapped his arm. “All we need is an original survey map of the property and we’ve found the gold.”

He was grinning widely as JJ stood up. Pope slowly started, “Okay, so this might have a small chance of being actually true.”

Kie bounced excitedly where she sat. “Dude, it’s like King Tut!” she exclaimed, earning a laugh from Stella.

“I am a genius,” John B announced, just as JJ tackled him into a hug. “Hey, whoa!” They teetered slightly where they stood before JJ lifted John B up. “Hello! Fire! You’re near the fire. You’re gonna burn.”

JJ pulled away and Stella snickered as he said, “I’m so proud of you right now.”

John B nodded somberly. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

With a shake of her head, Stella interrupted the moment by asking, “Okay, so, guys.” They all looked towards her. “What’s the plan?”

John B pointed at her as JJ made his way back. “Good question. Sarah Cameron’s coming tonight. She’ll bring the original survey map—”

JJ sat down next to Stella just as her eyes widened, gaping at John B before her gaze instantly shot to Kie, who was frowning. “Hold on,” she interrupted. “Sarah? Wh-why Sarah?”

Stella tensed, looking between a bewildered Kie and a hesitant John B. She and Pope exchanged glances, both of them suddenly aware of the tension building in the open space. “Um—” John B trailed off.

JJ took off his head, muttering, “This is gonna be good.”

Stella looked at him, catching the wince he shot her way. Silently, she frowned at him, but JJ shook his head before nodding towards John B, who stood with his fists on his hips. “Sarah, um, she. . . She got me into the archives in Chapel Hill yesterday, and there’s where I got the letter.”

Kie’s face scrunched up even more, looking a mix of pissed off and confused, while Stella gaped up at John B. “You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?”

John B’s throat worked. “Yeah, um. . .”

Next to her, JJ announced, “He was mackin’ on her.”

Stella gasped as she stared at him, wide eyed, and JJ nodded somberly while Pope coughed uncomfortably into his fist. Across the fire, Kie was glaring up at John B, and Stella hated the betrayal she could already see melting into Kie’s eyes. John B shot JJ a glare. “I wasn’t macking.”

JJ lifted his chin, unrelenting. “You were totally macking Sarah Cameron.”

He wasn’t helping the situation, so Stella lightly flicked his arm, prompting JJ to immediately look at her, pressing his cut lips together to keep himself from smirking. She narrowed her eyes in warning, and all JJ did was link their arms together and pull her to his side.

“I wasn’t macking on her, okay?” John B spoke up, exasperated. “I was using her for access.”

JJ scoffed lightly. “There was access, alright.”

Stella pinched his side at that, despite the inappropriate laugh threatening to burst. Kie wouldn’t appreciate it, and Stella could tell her twin was seconds away from pushing John B into the fire. “Did you tell her about the treasure?” Kie demanded.

John B’s eyes widened. “I was trying to get into the archives.”

Kie’s voice grew loud with disbelief. “Is that a yes?”

“I. . . I left out key details,” John B said, looking to the others for help. Stella pressed her lips together, pressed up against JJ. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything, not with the current situation going on. Poor John B wasn’t going to get help on this.

“Yo, what?” Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “You let a Kook in on our secret? What about Pogue Lyfe? What about the T-shirt company, bro?”

Suddenly, it was a battle between Kie and John B, and all Stella, JJ, and Pope could do was sit on the sidelines silently and watch. “I was just using her for information,” John B tried.

Kie shot him a wry look. “Why don’t I believe you?”

John B was growing exasperated already, shaking his head at the unhelpfulness of the others before looking back at Kie. “I’m trying to make us filthy rich here, okay, so that we can pay off a boat, or. . . or, uh. . .” He looked towards Pope, “send you to autopsy school to study bed bodies.” Stella’s face scrunched up as JJ suppressed a snort and Pope blinked owlishly. “Look, you guys know me. Do I look like the type of person to fall for Sarah Cameron?”

JJ blinked. “Uh—”

Stella tilted her head at John B. “Do you want us to answer that?” She could guarantee neither he nor Kie would appreciate the answer.

John B held up a hand at Stella. “Just—just stop.”

Kie shook her head, her jaw tight as she frowned deeply. “Look, you don’t know her yet. I do! You can’t trust her.”

Pope chimed in, “Her brother did hit me in the back with a golf club.”

John B looked to Pope. “Rafe and Sara are different human beings.”

JJ’s cheek was resting on top of Stella’s head as he asked Kie, “What did she do to you, exactly?”

Stella sighed. Oh, boy.

Kie held up two fingers and jabbed them forward. “She’s like a. . . a spitting cobra.” Everyone blinked, bewildered. “First she—she blinds you, and then—”

Stella was already shaking her head, sitting up straight as she said to her struggling sister, “This is a bad analogy.”

“Listen to me!” Kie exclaimed, clearly fed up with the situation. “Whatever we get, she’s gonna try to take.”

Her words were met by silence, other than the crackling fire and chirping cicadas. John B stood quietly, throat working, clearly unsure of what to say as JJ and Pope stayed in their own awkward silence, too. Stella suppressed a sigh. It seemed as though it was up to her to smooth things over, even if she did slightly side with Kie in all of this. She didn’t have a begrudging hate towards Sarah like Kie did, but they were sisters, and Stella needed to show solidarity. But she could also, in some way, see John B’s side of things. God, this was gonna be tense.

“Kie,” Stella spoke up carefully, prompting Kie’s gaze to connect with hers. “Whatever John B promised Sarah, that’s his issue. But if she’s the only way we can get the map, then we need to let it happen.”

Kie’s jaw was hard. “I don’t want her involved. I don’t want to deal with her.”

“We won’t,” Stella said, glancing quickly at John B before looking at Kie again. “Let John B deal with her.” When Kie didn’t look entirely convinced, Stella let out a huff. “This is bigger than your beef with Sarah. I know you know that.”

Silence fell upon them for a few moments as they all waited for Kie to respond. She sat quietly, hands gripping the log she sat on, mulling over Stella’s words. Stella, in turn, hoped she got through to her sister. They needed Kie to be on board with this, no matter her issues with Sarah. They’d already gotten this far in their treasure hunt—an old beef shouldn’t hinder them now.

Stella remained quiet, waiting for Kie to make a decision, although she silently enjoyed the sensation of JJ’s fingers ghosting up and down her arm, their arms still linked together. It was calming when others would argue JJ was anything but.

“Fine,” Kie finally gave in and everyone instantly sat up. She glared at John B. “As long as I don’t have to speak to her.” John B pressed his hands together and brought them to his mouth, his grin already forming. “I just hope you know what you’re getting us into.”

After John B profusely thanked Kie for agreeing, they killed the fire and got up before heading back to the van, since they had to drive to meet Sarah. The twigs and leaves crunched under their shoes as they went, but as Pope, Kie, and John B chatted while walking ahead, Stella lingered back and grasped JJ’s hand to slow his pace down.

He looked at her, eyebrows raising. “What’s up?”

Stella looked up at him, her fingers ghosting on his chin. Finally, she let the worry come out in full force as she asked, “Are you okay? Did—” she stopped, throat working to get rid of the lump that formed. “Did your dad do this?”

JJ’s jaw worked, blue eyes glimmering under the moonlight as he looked down at her. “Got a good chunk of money to pay in restitution,” he told her. “The old man’s not too happy about it.”

Despite herself, Stella felt the hot tears sting in her eyes. She preferred the pink in JJ’s cheeks when they were flushed when he was happy or even drunk—not the pink and harsh reds that surrounded the cuts and marked the bruises. Stella wasn’t sure she ever hated anyone as much as she hated JJ’s dad. Her throat was tight, unable to say anything except to croak out his name, “JJ—”

“Hey, hey,” he shushed her, hands coming up to cup Stella’s that had been ghosting along his sharp jaw. He held her hand in both of his before pressing a kiss to it, blue eyes locked in her brown. “I’m okay, Stel. They’ll heal. It’s no big deal.”

Stella scoffed, though her concern remained clear. “You can’t actually expect me to believe that.” The flutters in her stomach returned when JJ kissed her hand, when he looked at her with those baby blue eyes she loved so much. She let out a breath. “You’re sleeping over at John B’s, right?”

JJ offered her a small dimpled grin. “When am I not?”

Stella pinned him with a stare. They’d stopped walking and she knew they had to move soon, but she took a breath. “Whenever you can, either sleep at John’s or you sleep at mine. Okay?”

JJ raised his eyebrows, though she could see his gaze soften at her offer. But he kept the mood light as he teased, “You inviting me to your room, shark bait?”

Her heart jumped. “Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed,” Stella pointed out. It was the truth. They shared hammocks, chairs, couches, and beds countless times before.

“Yeah, but it’s different now, isn’t it?” JJ questioned.

She looked at their hands before meeting his gaze again. “Is it?” she returned, throat working in anticipation. This was it. This was Stella asking JJ if whatever was happening between them was real, if something more was going to come out of it than a few kisses shared.

JJ’s gaze was intense, deep in a way she wasn’t used to as it stole her breath. “It is.” Steady, resolute, firm. No room for arguments. Thank fuckinf God.

Stella felt her grin appear before she could help it, relief warming her, and JJ mirrored her smile before ducking his head and pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss slowly, gently, not wanting to hurt his cut lips. Her heart jumped excitedly as he kissed her, but it was cut short, unfortunately, when John B’s voice cut through the air.

“Oi! What happened to no macking?”

The two of them pulled apart, but John B was grinning, as were Pope and Kie as they looked at the two of them. Stella’s face flushed as JJ slung his arm around her shoulders before they began walking towards their friends. “I’m sure we can make an exception,” JJ said smoothly, cockily.

John B’s grin was wicked. “If it means you’ll finally stop whining about how much you looooove Stel, then yes we will.”

Stella laughed, cheeks flushing, while JJ spluttered. “I never whined!” he protested as they joined their friends.

Pope rolled his eyes. “That’s true. You just bottled it all up inside because you’re emotionally constipated.”

“Sounds about right. I’m the one who made the first move,” Stella said, grinning widely at JJ’s betrayed expression, laughing as he used his arm around her to push her away. Stella continued laughing, along with the others, as she stumbled away, but didn’t lose her balance because JJ instantly caught her hand and pulled her back to his side.

“Whatever. I like an assertive woman,” JJ said with a charming grin, pressing a kiss to Stella’s temple as they neared the van.

Pointing at Pope and John B as they climbed inside, Kie said, “You two owe me twenty bucks, by the way.”

“No, we don’t!” John B argued as he started the van. “It’s after Midsummers.”

Pope nodded in agreement as Kie grinned wickedly before meeting Stella’s gaze as she sat on the back bench. With a giggle, Stella confessed, “It was actually yesterday. Before the summer movie series.”

John B and Pope’s gazes swung to JJ, who leaned back with his arms propped on top of the back bench casually as he said, “It’s true, boys.” John B shook his head and began driving, and JJ added, “Can’t believe you three bet on us.”

Sitting on the floor opposite of them, Pope scoffed. “Can’t believe it took you two this long to get together.”

“Okay!” Stella spoke up loudly, clapping her hands together once and shooting all of her friends a look. “We’re done talking about this.”

They reached their destination soon after that, a spot off in the middle of the woods where a tower stood, the apparent meeting spot John B had set up at Kildare Hawk’s Nest. As soon as he parked the car, Pope slid open the back van door as JJ slapped his knees. “Hit it, boys! We’re goin’. Recon mission.”

But before any of them could even get up, John B turned to face them. “Yo, uh. . . So, uh, I think I’m gonna do this one by myself. . . Tonight.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as Kie rolled her eyes and Stella and JJ fell back in their seats. She raised her eyebrows as JJ drawled a knowing, “Really?”

John B frowned. “What?”

JJ took off his head. “Nothin’.”

John B sighed, fixing his own hat atop his head. “I don’t want to spook Sarah with the peanut gallery.”

Kie shrugged, voice sharp and annoyed as she looked at John B. “I just don’t understand why we’re involving her at all.”

Stella let out a sigh as she leaned back, JJ now sitting on the ground next to her, his head resting against her leg as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Kie, we’re not involving her, okay?” John B said, exasperated. “It’s—it’s just, uh, like a—a business meeting. . . Thing.” On the ground, JJ made a crude motion with the joint he held and made a gulping sound, prompting Pope to grin in amusement while Stella rolled her eyes at John B. He was not selling this well. “Look, once we get what we need, we cut her loose, all right? Plus, we need the map.”

Yeah, okay. Stella wasn’t quite sure how much she believed that.

Kie pursed her lips, leaning forward as she stared John B dead in the eye. “Promise me nothing’s happening between you two.”

John B widened his eyes, answering breathily, “Nothing is happening, Kie.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Okay!”

Kie was still frowning, as if she was trying to get John B to get the message through her glare. “This isn’t about you. This isn’t about us. This is about her.” Stella pressed her lips together as she watched them. Kie’s beef with Sarah was so damn deep, she wondered if they would be able to do with if she wasn’t on board with Sarah helping out just this once. Personally, Stella didn’t give a shit about Sarah Cameron; she just didn’t like her out of principle for the way the end of that friendship hurt Kie. Everything else was between Kie and Sarah. “Dude, she’s gonna get inside your head. Just promise me nothing’s happening between you guys.”

John B looked at her as lightning flashed outside and thunder rolled. “I promise.”

“That was really believable,” JJ piped up.

Pope nodded. “A hundred percent believable.”

Stella lightly knocked JJ with her knee while glaring at Pope, effectively shutting both of them up. John B didn’t dignify them with a response, instead saying, “Anyways, um, I’m gonna take care of business.”

JJ shook his head, playing with the joint. “You’re gonna take care of it so well.”

Stella waved John B off dismissively. “We’ll just sit here,” she said dryly. “In the hot-ass car.”

Pope added, “While it’s lightning.”

They left the back door of the van open as John B got out, backpack on as he walked off towards the tower. The wind rustled outside, thunder rumbling every now and then to accompany the flashes of lightning that warned of a storm rolling in. “Kiara, holding onto your grudge is like drinking poison and thinking Sarah will die,” Pope said once John B was gone.

“Exactly,” JJ nodded.

Kie shot the two of them a withering stare before looking at Stella. Her twin merely shrugged. “You know I’m on your side,” Stella said. “But you can’t really tell John B what he can or can’t do.”

“I’m not trying to tell him what to do,” Kie shot back. “I’m just warning him against the kind of person I know Sarah is. She’s gonna fuck us over.”

“Look, we just—we just gotta trust that John B knows what he’s doing,” Pope tried to placate, looking between Stella and Kie. “That he’s using his head.”

Kie scoffed, not really convinced. “I know what head he’s using, and it isn’t the one on his shoulders.”

“That’s a good one,” JJ mumbled quietly where he sat.

They were quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the rumble of thunder, before conversation started up again. Pope had asked about what happened at Midsummers, and JJ launched into the story that led up to the Kooks cornering him in the men’s room while they waited for John B to return with the map.

JJ was saying, “Rafe and Kelce followed me—”

Kie cut him off. “Wait, do you guys hear that?” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “Sh.”

Stella frowned. “What?”

And then, in the distance, over the sound of the wind howling and thunder rumbling, came a girl’s voice yelling, “Please, somebody, help!”

All of their eyes widened, instantly on their feet as JJ grunted, “Oh, wait, no, I hear that.”

“Shit,” Pope cursed as they all stumbled out.

“What the fuck?” Stella muttered, gripping the skirt of her dress so it didn’t get tangled in her feet as she ran.

The voice, Stella realized, belonged to Sarah, and her heart started pounding as they ran towards the Hawk’s Nest, throat already drying in worry. The first thought in her head was that something went terribly wrong, that John B was hurt, and when they all cleared a group of trees towards the base of the Nest, Stella’s fear came true as a gasp ripped through her at the sight of John B lying on the ground, Sarah crying as she cradled his head and begged for him to wake up and open his eyes.

“Sarah! What happened?” Pope asked as they came running over, skidding to a stop, their breathing labored.

Sarah was crying, and Stella’s heart clenched at the sight of John B, unconscious, fear drenching her veins in ice as she instantly gripped Kie’s hand. “I don’t know what to do,” Sarah sobbed. “He needs help. Topper shoved him.”

Anger heated Stella’s skin, momentarily taking over the terror trembling her body as JJ demanded, “Where the hell is he?”

But Sarah just cried, “Oh, please, please, please get help. I don’t care who. Just call someone.”

Stella pushed Pope away as she panted, “Go! Call 911! Go!”

Pope took off and Kie shouted after him, “Pope, hurry!”

They all stood, breathing labored and hearts pounding, unsure of what to do as their friend lay unconscious. Worry weighed heavily on them all, to the point where Stella couldn’t even stop to question the way Sarah was holding John B to her, crying for him, kissing him and begging for him to wake up. No, nothing else mattered other than their injured friend, the tears stinging in Stella’s eyes as she prayed to anyone who was listening that he would wake up. Soon. Now. Please.

#outer banks #obx #jj #jj maybank #john b #sarah cameron #pope heyward #kiara carrera #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank blurbs #obx fic #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #obx blurb #outer banks blurb #jj maybank x oc

[general-kenobi357]

Someday Soon-Chapter 3

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!OC

Summary: After finding a new lead the hunt to find the Royal Merchant is on.

Word Count: 4.4k

🔅🔆🔅

We all waited anxiously as Kie began to climb out of the mausoleum. I grabbed her flashlight as the boys helped her back onto the ground.

“That's not gold.” JJ stated, as we all examined the FedEx bag Kie had found.

“Holy shit.” John B stuttered, taking the package from Kie’s grasp. “This is from my dad.”

“Code red. Code red. Square groupers! Square groupers!” JJ alerted us to the car that was pulling up. “It's the guys who robbed your house.”

“Light! Light.” Pope reminded us all, as we ducked down to avoid being caught.

“Turn your light off, man!” John B urged JJ, who sat between me and John B, struggling with his head lamp. Reaching over I turned it off for him before we got caught. We all sat in silence. The only sound you could hear was our panicked breathing as we waited for something to happen.

“Do you think it's them?” Kie asked us all.

“Homie's got a gun.” JJ concluded, as he leaned over me to peer around the corner.

“Screw this.” Kie said standing up and breaking into a sprint towards the van.

I sat stunned for a moment more before I felt someone grab my hand and pull me to my feet. Before I knew it we stopped at the tall gate that stood between us and our escape.

“You have to climb over the fence, Sweetheart.” JJ told me, leaning close to my ear and snapping me out of my trance. The only thing I could hear was his voice. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” I muttered, as all of our friends began to scale the fence. “I think so.”

As I jumped onto the ground on the other side I finally felt as if I knew where I was again. JJ grabbed my hand again once he landed beside me.

“Hurry up!” Kie urged us all from her spot next to the van.

“Guys! Guys! Guys, I'm stuck.” Pope called out from the top of the gate where his shorts had gotten caught.

“Pope, come on!” JJ called out, just before he realized Pope couldn’t. “Alright hold still.” He concluded letting go of my hand so he could dig through his backpack. It took me a minute before I realized what he was looking for.

“No JJ.” I scolded him before turning to Pope. “Pope you have to jump.”

“You're gonna rip me.” Pope warned, as Kie and John B started to pull him down. “Wait. You're gonna rip me!”

“You're fine. Come on!” Kie told him as his pants tore and he could finally get down.

“Pope, come on!” John B said once he was on the ground. We all began running to the van before we were caught. Tires screeched against the pavement as we finally fled the scene.

🔅🔆🔅

Back at the Château we all began to gather around the table ready to find out what Kie had found back at the graveyard.

“That bread had mold on it three days ago.” Pope said in disgust, from the kitchen to my right.

“I'll just pull off the bad parts.” JJ reasoned, making me cringe in disgust. “Plus, mold is good for you. It's just a natural organism.”

“JJ!” Kie urged not willing to wait any longer to see what they had found.

“Yup, yup, yup! Let's do it.” JJ called hurrying into the room with a sandwich in hand. I turned around from where I stood behind John B, watching him take a bite before promptly spitting it into his hand.

“Holy shit.” I heard John B mutter as he opened the bag and dumped its contents onto the table.

“Oh. X marks the spot.” Pope pointed to the X on the map that John B was unfolding.

“Longitude, latitude.” John B pointed out, as we all examined the map of the ocean which surrounded the Outer Banks.

“Wait, there's somethin' else in there.” I said, noticing the map wasn’t the only thing we had found.

“What's that?” JJ asked from his spot beside me.

“It's a tape recorder, dumbass.” Kie answered, sounding frustrated and I couldn’t blame her. We had been through a lot that day and we were all becoming more exhausted as the day dragged out.

John B reached for the tape recorder before hitting the button on the side so it would start playing whatever had been recorded.

“Dear Bird.” A deep voice started speaking. I recognized the voice but without seeing a face I couldn’t place who it was, partially due to the fact I was so tired.

“Who's Bird?” JJ asked.

“That's what my dad called me.” John B answered and suddenly my tired mind put together the pieces and I realized this was all from John B’s father.

“I hate to say, ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so. And you doubted your old man. I suspect at this moment, you're filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight, but don't kill yourself just yet, kid. I didn't expect to find the Merchant either…”

As the tape ended we all looked at John B who sat in shock at what his father had just told us all.

“Holy shit, he did it!” JJ exclaimed in shock. “Big John... He found the Merchant…”

“Can you... can you please?” Kie stopped JJ from talking as we watched John B stand up in tears.

“Sorry.” JJ mumbled, realizing his mistake. Kie moved to comfort John B who was barely holding it together.

I turned back to JJ to give John B and Kie a minute, Pope was examining the map again and I saw the guilty look JJ held.

“Come on.” I told JJ, placing a hand on his shoulder to direct him towards the door. “I think there’s some mold free bread at my house.

🔅🔆🔅

“Shh.” I reminded JJ, as we entered the dark house, knowing my mom and sister were probably fast asleep inside.

Once in the kitchen I started to grab everything I needed to make us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, as JJ jumped up to sit on the counter. A comfortable silence fell over us as I made us food. I handed him a plate as I took my own out onto the porch so we didn’t have to be as quiet.

“I’m sorry.” I finally spoke up as we began to eat.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“I’m sorry. I flipped out at you before and I shouldn’t have. You were right, you were just trying to be there for John B.” I explained, remembering the events that had occurred earlier that day.

“Well in all fairness you were also right, I definitely went about it the wrong way.” He responded, making me laugh a little.

“So you still want to be my friend?” I asked, watching his face fall slightly which confused me.

“Of course.” He assured me with a small smile. I smiled back as we finished eating.

Once again we were back to being best friends and laughing as we joked around while we headed back over to the rest of the Pogues.

🔅🔆🔅

After gathering the rest of the Pogues we had made our way to John B’s dock where we all sat, drinking again. I sat next to JJ leaning against him. The events of the day were starting to catch up to me and I felt as if I might crash soon. I listened to the others discuss the Royal Merchant while I tried to keep myself awake.

“How much was it again?” Pope asked.

“Four hundred mil.” John B reminded, he sounded as if he couldn’t even imagine a number that big.

“All right, let's talk the split.” JJ spoke up, I could feel the vibrations of his voice pass from him to me, keeping me slightly more awake. “Now, before we say ‘evenly,’ may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us. Protection? Not cheap, okay?”

“You haven't trained.” Pope told him. “You've done zero training.”

“YouTube, bro! That's at least a five percent bump right there. Any objections? Didn't think so.” He concluded which made me laugh.

“Yeah.” Pope tried to object but JJ had already moved on.

“What are you gonna do with your 80 mil, Pope?” JJ asked curiously.

“Pay for college in advance. And also, textbooks. Those are expensive.” Pope explained confidently. “What about you, Kie?”

“Yeah, what does a socialist do when she's rich?” John B asked.

“I just wanna make a double album.” She told us wishfully. “About OBX, the Pogues. You know, the way Catch a Fire is about Kingston. Record it at Marley Studio, Peter Tosh producing.”

“Peter Tosh is dead.” John B tried to reason.

“Peter Tosh is dead.” Kie agreed. “I know. Spirit of Peter Tosh will never die.”

“What about you Iz?” John B asked, as everyone turned to look at me.

“Well, I’m gonna buy my Mom our old house on Figure Eight. Then I'm moving to Hawaii, I’ll build a little house right on the beach. Surf every morning.” I explained, smiling while I thought about it all.

“How are you going to build a house? You can’t even use a screwdriver.” JJ teased me.

“Hey if Kie gets a dead producer, I get to pretend I know how to build a house.” I reasoned.

“Alright well, I know what I'll do.” JJ told us. “I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight and go full Kook.”

“You're gonna go full Kook?” I asked laughing at the thought.

“Yup.” He nodded. “Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond. Put a bunch of those fish…”

“I'm never visiting.” Kie warned. “What are you gonna do, JB?”

“To going full Kook.” He decided finally, raising his beer.

“To going full Kook!” We all agreed as we clinked our beers together.

🔅🔆🔅

“All right, keep a look out.” JJ warned us all as we pulled up to the nicest hotel on the island. “We're behind enemy lines.”

I’d been here a few times before, once with my dad when I was young and a couple of times I had gone to see JJ on his lunch break. It still amazed me every time, especially now when I knew what it was like on the cut.

“Yo, come on, man. Just put it back.” Pope urged, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked back into the van where JJ sat messing around with his new favorite toy.

“What? You can never be too careful.” JJ reasoned.

“Hey, I predict that bringing a weapon to a four-star hotel will likely cause more problems than they solve.”

“I swear to God, I'm gonna throw that thing in the ocean, JJ.” Kie warned him from the backseat of the van.

“Put it back.” I told him, taking the gun from his grasp and placing it back into the glove compartment. It seemed like me having to take away the gun from him was becoming more of a common occurrence.

“You can't grab a gun like that.” JJ explained, before he bent over to shuffle through his backpack. “Can't forget my badge. Professional busboy.” He reminded me, flashing the badge in front of my face.

“So, where are we going now?” Pope asked, as we all followed JJ to the kitchen entrance.

“We're getting on the internet because only rich people have electricity right now.” JJ explained, as we walked through the lobby of the hotel, most of the guests stared and I didn’t blame them. A group of Pogues willingly in the middle of Figure Eight was not a common occurrence. “See, they got the backup generators going? Kooks don't miss a beat.”

“Sweet Lord, the internet!” Pope cried out, as we entered the computer room. “I've missed you.”

“Let me get in there.” JJ said, sitting down next to Pope. “Gotta check out my Insta models.”

“We don't have time.” Kie tried to remind him that we were on a mission here.

“Coordinates, please?” Pope asked, getting ready to search them.

“34° 57' 30 " north. 75° 55' 42" west.” John B read off the map. “Boom, continental shelf right there.”

“Well, if it's off the deep end, it's not gonna be much of a treasure hunt, is it?” I reminded him trying not to get my hopes up yet.

“Come on, baby.” Pope muttered, as he zoomed in on the map and we all leaned in closer to get a better look. “Come on.”

“Shit, it's on the high side. It's only 900 feet.” John B let out the breath he was holding.

“That's not too deep.” JJ supplied.

“Is that doable or something?” Kie asked confused.

“Yeah, totally doable.” JJ responded.

“Will we be taking your personal submarine?” Pope asked.

“How do you know this, Mr. Dive Master?” I added.

“The salvage yard. They got a drone that can drop 1,000. It has a 360 camera and everything.” JJ explained to us. “It's for, like, deep dives and stuff. It's exactly what we need.”

“Can your dad get his grimy little hands on that?” John B asked, hopefully.

“Well, my dad's grimy little hands got his ass fired.” JJ informed us. “I guess the salvage captain frowns on showing up shitfaced, turns out. But the drone's there. It's in the impound yard out back.”

“How much did you say was on the Royal Merchant again?” I asked trying to weigh the pros and cons in my mind.

“400 million.” John B reminded us.

“400 mil.” JJ confirmed as we all seemed to come to an agreement that whatever we had to do was worth it.

“No. Absolutely not. Absolutely not. No!” Pope realized what was going on. He rushed to the door trying to block our way.

“Pope! Move.” Kie urged.

“Can't we do anything legal for money?” Pope asked me as I walked past him following the rest of the Pogues.

“When you have 400 million dollars everything is legal.” I reasoned with him.

🔅🔆🔅

“Pope, we're not stealing the drone. We're borrowing it.” John B explained, we were all still trying to get him on board with the plan.

"Humans are the only animal that can't tell fantasy from reality." Pope told us hopelessly.

“Did you come up with that?”

“Albert Bernstein came up with it, but it applies to this whole treasure-hunting thing. So, which is it? Fantasy or reality?”

“Why are you so weird, Pope?” JJ asked, more focused on the joint he was rolling than the conversation we were all having.

“It's fantasy, but possible reality.” John B concluded, after thinking for a moment.

“Reality.” Kie reassured from beside him.

“Virtual reality.” JJ told us all, as Pope grabbed the joint from between his lips before JJ could light it.

“Keep the signal clear.”

“You know what your problem is?”

“You?”

“No! It's that you need to relax, man. You're always so tense!”

“I'm not too tense.”

“Alright you two.” I tried to stop their bickering as I climbed over JJ to get out of the van. Turning back to them I added. “Don’t be stupid, okay?”

“Sweetheart, that’s a big ask.” JJ tried to reason with me.

“Yeah I’m not sure you’ve met JJ.” Pope added.

“Hey I’m not the only one who does stupid stuff.” JJ argued as they started up their bickering again.

“Fine.” I interrupted. “Just… please try to stay out of jail?”

“Yeah alright we can do that I guess.” JJ concluded.

After leaving the boys behind I followed Kie towards her car.

“Alright, I’ll let the air out if you want to go get the guard?” I asked her circling around to the back of the trailer.

As the guard came over to the trailer I pretended to be inspecting the tire I had just flattened.

“It's too easy.” Kie whispered to me, as I stood up to give the guard some space.

“So he just kissed you?” I asked Kie, she had just been recounting what had happened to her and John B when we had left them at the lighthouse. It was nice to talk with her about boy problems. It reminded me of simpler times before we had begun looking for buried treasure and had our lives threatened.

“Yeah and I had no idea what to do.” Kie explained.

I was about to respond when we heard a dog barking from inside the yard.

“Do you hear that?” The guard asked us.

“Hear what?” I asked innocently.

“Oh, Tebow's got somethin'.” He told us.

“It's probably just a raccoon, maybe. You know?” Kie tried to cover for the boys. “Nothin' to worry about. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He said going back to the tire.

“I’m gonna go give them some more time.” I mumbled to Kie before I went over to the other side of the trailer.

“Are you sure that one’s good?” Kie asked, warning me that the guard was done.

“What are you doing?” He demanded as I stood up from the tire.

“This one looks a little low too.” I tried to cover.

“Wait! Wait!” Kie called. But it was too late he was already running back into the yard.

“Shit.” I muttered as we got into Kie’s car. Hoping that the boys had made it out in time.

🔅🔆🔅

“Stealing drones makes you hungry.” Kie joked as John B parked the van in front of The Wreck.

“What I would do to a beer and shrimp and grits right now.” JJ told us as we all piled out of the van.

“It would not be pretty.” Pope teased.

As we walked into the restaurant I saw Kie’s dad frown from behind the counter, he definitely was not our biggest fan. After some convincing Kie walked back to us and told us to sit down as her dad brought out food for us all. I sat down between JJ and Pope as we all dug in.

As we finished up Kie stood and turned up the music that had been playing softly in the background. After some convincing John B joined her as JJ and I laughed at their ridiculous dancing.

Noticing Pope was being especially quiet, I looked back at him concerned, he looked as if someone had taken away his puppy.

“You think Pope’s okay?” I whispered to JJ.

“Yeah.” JJ replied, looking at Pope before turning back to me. “He’s just madly in love with a girl and doesn’t know how to tell her.”

“Hmm.” I hummed, still looking at Pope with concern.

“Come on.” JJ said, pulling me to my feet so we could join John B and Kie. I laughed as he spun me around.

“Pope, what are you waiting for?” I asked with a smile as I held out my hand for him and he reluctantly stood up.

And as we all danced together I forgot about the rest of the world for a couple minutes and enjoyed this moment with all my friends.

🔅🔆🔅

The next morning we had gathered on John B’s dock so that Pope could get a handle on the drone controls before we took it out on the open water. I sat in front of Pope and JJ with my feet in the water basking in the sun. I could see storm clouds brewing on the horizon but they hadn’t hit the island yet, for now everything was calm.

“What's this?” I heard JJ ask.

“Don't touch that.” Pope shooed JJ away so he sat down beside me. “I'm trying to work out this thing.”

“God bless geeks, Pope. Truly, man.” JJ added. “What would we do without you to control the drones?”

“It's not a drone. It's an ROV.”

“Shut up. Shut up. It's too early for that right now.”

“Hey, play nice boys.” I reminded them looking between the two.

“Hey, once we get footage of the wreck, we'll bring it to a lawyer in town and file a formal claim.” John B informed us from the water.

“It's bullshit. Why do we have to do that?” JJ sounded like a little kid being told he had to go home from the playground.

“Well, there is maritime salvage law.” Pope told us.

“You can't just go to the ocean floor and scoop a bunch of stuff up.” John B added.

“I know. I know. It's just lawyers aren't cheap, bro.” JJ reasoned.

“As soon as they see the footage, they'll work for a comp.”

“How do you know all of that?” I asked John B.

“'Cause my dad said it, like, a million times.”

“This tether is, like, really long.” Pope spoke up. “In the wrong weather, it could get pushed around.”

“Then we'll go at dead calm.” Kie reasoned as she climbed out of the water. “Slack tide?”

“So now, we just gotta wait around for the right weather.” Pope told us, as we listened to the far away thunder. “And today is not that day.”

As we walked back towards the Château I heard my Mom calling me from the porch of our house.

“Shoot, I forgot I was working today.” I said to the rest of the Pogues.

“You still want us to pick you up later?” JJ asked, as I checked my bag to make sure I had everything.

“Uh yeah, if you’re gonna be over there.” I responded not wanting to inconvenience them.

“Yeah, JJ and I are dropping off groceries on Figure Eight for my dad.” Pope explained.

“Okay, awesome. I’ll be at the Osborne’s house it’s like two docks down from the Cameron's.” I explained, as I made my way over to my mom’s car. “Bye!”

🔅🔆🔅

As I finished vacuuming I glanced at the clock on the wall of the Osborne’s house, this was the last house I had to clean today and JJ and Pope were set to pick me up soon. After I finished cleaning up, I headed downstairs to grab my stuff.

“Hey, you all done?” Mrs. Osborne asked me as I entered the kitchen. She had always been nice to me, well nicer than most Kooks.

“Yep.” I responded, putting the tip she had just handed me into my bag.

“Awesome, thank you.”

“Of course, I’ll see you in two weeks.” I told her.

“I’ll walk you out.” she said motioning in the direction of the front door.

“Oh, actually my friends are picking me up on your dock.”

“Oh okay.” She said, seeming a little confused.

“Bye!” I called out as I shut her back door and made my way toward the long dock. As I stepped out onto the dock I saw Heyward’s boat pull up on the other end.

When I walked onto the boat something seemed off, the two boys were silent which almost never happened. Looking between them I was confused. Without a word Pope pulled out of the dock and we headed back to the cut.

“What’s up with you two?” I asked a few minutes into the boat ride. The pair glanced at each other, Pope opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but after a pointed glare from JJ. He shut his mouth and readjusted his hat, it was sitting at a weird angle.

“Nothin’.” JJ told me with a straight face.

“Seriously?” I asked, frustrated with the two for keeping something to themselves.

“Seriously.” JJ confirmed, so much for Pogues not lying to Pogues.

“So we’re keeping secrets now? Cool.” I said pressing my lips into a tight line. Before they spoke another word I walked onto the back deck. Hoping that the breeze would help me cool off.

From inside the boat I could hear Pope arguing with JJ about telling me something. I couldn’t hear all of it but I knew they were keeping something from me as their words became louder.

“I don’t want her involved!” I finally heard JJ shout, which seemed to stop Pope from saying anything more and the pair became silent again.

🔅🔆🔅

After we spent the rest of the day surfing we were all back at the Château. I sat watching the sunset, wondering what had happened to JJ and Pope before they picked me up. I worried that by the time I found out what had really happened it would be too late.

“You really think it's out there? Like, no bullshit?” Pope asked.

“My father thought it was.” John B told us.

“But do you?”

“After hearing his voice on that tape… I think I do.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Look, we're gonna find it, you know?” JJ spoke up from the hammock. I’d normally be sitting right beside him and even though we were only a few feet apart it felt like there were miles between us.

“Even JJ believes.” Kie joked.

“Oh, my God, JJ, do you really believe?” John B asked in disbelief.

“Totally. Wait. Are we talking about four mil?” JJ asked

“Four hundred mil.” Kie and Pope corrected.

“I'm gonna dream about shipwrecks.” JJ informed us all. “Good night, Bird!”

“Good night, bird shit!” John B teased.

🔅🔆🔅

The next day, the weather seemed perfect as we all boarded Heyward’s boat, ready to find some gold. I kept my distance from the others, I knew I should drop it but I couldn’t help but worry about what JJ and Pope refused to tell me.

“All right, JJ. Pin it here.” I heard John B call out.

“Roger that! X marks the spot.” JJ responded from inside. “All right, ladies and gentlemen. To going full Kook.”

As Pope took the drone deeper everyone's nerves rose. We were about to find out if it had been worth it.

As Kie let out more of the tether, I kept track of how far down the drown had gone. At 900 feet the wind was becoming too much and we still hadn’t found anything. But at almost 1000 feet Pope let out a sigh of relief.

“I'm at the bottom! I'm at the bottom! Okay, steady here, JJ!” Pope yelled out over the wind.

“You should be seeing something, man.” John B told him impatiently, we couldn’t stay out for much longer.

“I know, I know! Wait, wait.” Pope froze. “Oh, good God.”

“See anything?” I asked hopefully.

“It's the Royal Merchant.” Pope told us with certainty.

🔅🔆🔅

#outerbanks #outer banks #jj maybank #jj obx #obx #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader

[gr0veyard]

Ooc.; also other stuff im giving my 2 Cents to, so skip if you dont care

[[MORE]]

Puberty blockers:

PBs are not irreversible lmao. They don't mutilate a minors body. They merely keep puberty on hold long enough for the minor in question to have time to make sure they want to transition. PUBERTY is what is irreversible. Imagine going thru puberty and growing into a body that at worst will make you wanna KYS and at best hate looking at yourself in the mirror. Do you know how expensive transition can be after puberty? PLEASE do more research before making asinine statements like PBs being comparable to mutilation. PBs only hold puberty as long as theyre being taken, meaning that if you stop taking em puberty will set in just as it usually would.

"Even hormone blockers and transitional hormones are largely untested when it comes to long term effects" is a baseless claim which a little googling can be disproven.

"One of my friends in high school medically transitioned, and it did nothing to help their dysphoria. It just made them even more depressed, and they later killed themselves." I'm sorry for your loss, genuinly. That really sucks. But as much it makes me look like an asshole for saying this, this is an appeal to emotion (aka not factually backing your other claims) and also circumstancial. If your friend's suicide was tied to their transition, their case is just that: theirs. One of the biggest contributors to trans suicude rates is the unattainability of affordable transition and dysphoria caused by the changes made by puberty, only topped by abuse from people towards trans people. By advocating for PBs to be prohibited or limited, you don't help. You make the problem worse.

Communism:

"I’m against Communist and Fascism as they’re both extremely Authoritarian systems that give the government complete control over how you live your life." Since I'm a socialist and not a communist I cant speak for communism, but most allegedly communist states today still basically operate on a capitalist core, where they have communist parties etc., but still have a free market for instance. China for example, but Russia too.

Capitalism amasses copious amounts of wealth on the backs of the lower class in a short amount of time but is ultimately unsustainable. Vaush on youtube has a number of videos on this I recommend you to check out.

Healthcare:

"You can’t have a right to the services and labor of another person, their own freedom is taken away by that." No one is saying that should happen. Ideally, the state pays for this healthcare and before you say anything about that: I'm from a country without america's privatized healthcare. It's never been an issue here, people aren't fucking terrified shitless to go to the doctor bc they could go into crippling debt. Sure, you gotta wait a lil longer than someone w a private insurance company (which still exists but isnt necessary to live) in the waitingroom but that's annoying at worst.

I went to america end of 2019 to visit my gf and I fell really ill there. I had to go to the doctor there and I nearly felt my soul leave my body when I had to pay 100 FUCKING DOLLARS HOLY SHIT. thats nearly a fourth of my monthly income bro, how can you claim this to be okay? Ofc medstaff still need to be paid but oh my gods this is not okay. If I had to live with this system for the rest of my life it's fair to say I'd never go to the fucking doctor. And that'd be worse for the docs AND FOR ME.

"If you die or develop incurable illness awaiting treatment for months, there’s nothing anyone can do. If you’re treated right away and unfortunately end up with loads of medial debt, it’s unfortunate, but you’re still alive. You can still try to fundraise money, get donations, or if you’re skilled, work it off. It’s really shitty, but necessary." N- no????? It reaLLY ISNT THOUGH??? As I've stated before, this is not an issue w public healthcare. It's smth that's an issue in general and it DOES happen in america right now. Where I live this doesnt happen to my knowledge. Why should it? The gov is gonna pay anyway so might as well get it done and get the next patient. You shouldnt have to go into debt to live. That's not humane.

"I don’t think the poor should die, I don’t want the suffering to be left to their fate." Contradictory to the part where you think going into debt is necessary. Being in debt IS suffering. *I* am in debt, and I suffer because of it everyday. And it's not because of healthcare.

When going into debt to heal is your only option as an alternative to possibly dying or suffering on, then making that choice is like having to choose between the black plague and cholera.

"Buy a gun, grow a garden, learn to build shelter, and make plans to invade a neighboring territory and become it’s technocratic warlord after your country collapses into an unlivable hellscape." Making a joke like this at the end of a post about serious topics like this is kind of trivializing the entire issue and a little disrespectful. Don't do that please. It's like you're comparing to Fallout 4 and I shouldn't need to point out why that's bad.

At the end of the day, Im not trying to change your mind bc thats futile and not my job. But I do absolutely intend to fact check claims I know for a fact are BS, or educate myself to make my own judgement, and so should you. If you want to know how truthful smth is, listen to multiple scources (centrist AND leftist) and crosscompare wether what you hear abt certain leftist ideas is in fact true or not.

Or dont and continue living in an echochamber. Your call.

Have a nice day.

#Long/ #Rant/ #Ooc drama/ #Politics/ #Suicide m/ #Transphobia m/ #Healthcare/ #Ask to tag/ #Ooc.;

[catsnuggler]

What didn't help my whole subconsciously-missionary-minded, silent-echoes-of-Mormonism socialism illusion, which made me think it would be selfish and wrong to demand my own liberation, was the misapplication of standpoint epistemology - put simply, when "identity politics" goes bad.

Putting the rest under a cut, because this is a long post.

While it's crude and ultimately incorrect to only say, for example, "Listen to Black voices", without emphasizing the critical thinking skills and empathy necessary to listen to Cornel West, and dismiss Candace Owens for the right-wing corporate hack that she is, what is for certain is that someone like me, a 100% white American settler of Mormon pioneer stock (on one side of my family, anyway), and with no formal education on the subject matter, doesn't have authority to speak on the experience of Black people in America. I have no argument against that, because it's true.

Continuing further, just because, in spite of the fact neither racism nor colonialism oppresses me, capitalism still does, this doesn't mean I have as much authority to speak on it as a Black member of the working class does, as anti-Black racism and capitalism compound on and depend on each other, making the lives of Black working class people more difficult than the lives of white working class people. Doesn't mean I can't speak on capitalism, just means I'm not the leading voice.

That being said - I'm going to talk as if I'm still a believing Mormon, let alone Christian, in this and the next paragraph, to better explain the subconscious workings of my mind, due to their brainwashing - the difference in our positions can be wrongly perceived, especially by someone raised in the illusory colonial missionary mindset, similar to the position of those with "the gospel" and those "of the world", where those with "the truth" have more, but are, like all, oppressed by "sin", yet at least believe themselves to have the knowledge and wherewithal to resist, while those "worldly" people aren't blessed with the wealth of God's Word, nor the solidarity of the church, and are thus further deprived of the perfection God desires for his children than those of His Flock already are, and must be ministered to, brought into the Fold, and Saved from On High.

Yet there must ever be a humility to such actions, there must ever be self-denial, for all are imperfect, even those in the church, as, just as Christ shed His blood, and allowed His flesh to be pierced, even to His death, in limitless sacrifice for the sins of all of the Children of Men, that they may be redeemed, so have countless socialist, communist, and anarchist revolutionaries died for the cause, and yet all who live, who do not seclude themselves from the world and its markets, facilitate the continued exploitation and robbery of each other by the capitalist class. All are imperfect, and all would deserve bondage and bloodshed, were it not for the bleeding hearts of the martyrs.

So, you see, even someone who consciously attempts to reject Christianity can still fall victim to its logic, even after abandoning the official doctrine of it, if proper safeguards against the general thought processes of it are not taken. Returning to the original point I've tried to raise, I've fallen for a long time to a Christian-esque stance of personal martyrdom for the sake of "saving others" to the point I believed pursuing my own liberation would be selfish.

I'm mentally ill and neurodivergent to the point that getting myself to even get into the habit of seeking jobs is difficult, much more so landing myself an interview; and getting an offer of employment? Only happened once, at the end of my first interview. As you predicted, the job sucked, they were desperate to hire me because it sucks, and it wasn't 3 months before I quit. I quit in late September of 2018. It's been almost 3 years of me not having a job.

I got my driver's license in mid 2019, but got into a minor parking accident that only broke a headlight on the car I drove, and didn't damage the other car, in September of that year. It was over a year before I drove again, because of the depth of my depression and anxiety over one accident, which cost about $150. Since January of this year, I've driven somewhat regularly, and have some measure of confidence, but am still anxious every time I'm behind the wheel. I could drive to and from a job, if needed, but it would be a while before that would be comfortable.

I still live with my dad, at the age of 23, and barely have any friends where I live anymore; those local friends I still have, I haven't seen face-to-face for a long time. My dad... my dad could die any day, and I would be royally fucked. Something happened earlier this month, and he wasn't healthy before, but this was really serious. He amazingly got away with few symptoms, and can make a full recovery with the right effort, except... it could still happen again, it would just be less likely. If it does, he could die. Again, I would be royally fucked. I don't know how much his treatment cost, but I know it must be a pretty penny. There's only so long I can continue like this.

Due to my dependence and general impotent state, I can't do a goddamn thing for what I believe in right now. I have to fight self-hatred with the argument that if I die, I'll have died useless and unhelpful, when I could potentially have kept living til I got my act together and finally done something helpful before passing.

I have a college degree. Not a "real" degree, in the sense of it mattering, but I have an Associate degree, DTA. No major; I never could figure out what I wanted to do. It would have been a close call between anything in political science, which would have led toward a government job, which would be unacceptable as an anarchist, or perhaps a professorial job, teaching would-be politicians and bureaucrats, hardly educating anyone of revolutionary intent; or something in chemistry, perhaps biochemistry, leading to some kind of colonial agrichem shit, or making expensive medicines nobody would be able to afford for private entities' profits, possibly having research appropriated by Uncle Sam for weapons purposes - I don't know, but none of that was appealing. I graduated community college with Honors, as a member of the Phi Theta Kappa Honor Society. I could have had promise as some or other kind of technocrat or bureaucrat - but I wouldn't be able to live with myself. It seems the less one is exploited, the more they exploit others. I don't know what job I can take that would exploit me enough that I wouldn't hurt others so much, while leaving me alone enough that I wouldn't kill myself, which... which has been a temptation, at times. Not too strong, but it is fucking there. I have promise; at short-term memorization and obedience, at least, like a mongrel dog who can read; but no conviction, no confidence, and a surplus of fear.

There are more woes I can recollect, I can continue this pity party in a book, but enough of that. Suffice it to say, all this time, I should have wanted my own liberation. Colonized people (in an American context, Turtle Island Indigenous and Black) have it worse, LGBT* people have it worse, women have it worse, physically disabled people have it worse, people with greater mental disabilities than my own have it worse, and I can't lead any of their struggles. But I do have the right to demand my own liberation, and I shouldn't convince myself otherwise.

*I don't oppose the use of the other word, except people of my demographic have abused that word so goddamn much, I don't want to type it, myself, let alone say it. It's always tainted when it comes from those who aren't of that community. Please don't think I'm either a radfem or a libfem just because I didn't use that word. I support people identifying with that label in using it.

This post became increasingly personal toward the end. However, I hope my flawed perspective, perhaps unique (read: unrelatable) in some aspects, perhaps explaining, at least in part, some of the fucked-up mental hurdles of white socialist "allies" that we need to get our asses over yesterday, might help - whatever I might have illuminated, and whatever I surely missed. I can understand why someone might want to share and add, share and criticize, or leave this alone with a like, nothing at all, or an unfollow.

Not that I can prevent this from being shared in any way, except by not posting in the first place, but I'm okay with it being shared by other socialists, for whatever it's worth... although I understand the more traction it gets, the more likely I'll get anon hate about being full of myself (deserved, to an extent at least), for being some dumb socialist cuck (not exactly wrong, but rude, and likely from a Nazi, so fuck you), or perhaps from non-Mormon Christians accusing me, someone they'd call a Mormon (which is arguably almost a new ethnicity (not race though) as much as it is a religion) of daring to throw the Christian god and Christianity, in general, under the bus, accusing me of being in league with the devil. So be it.

If you're not a reactionary, nor a liberal, nor somewhere in-between, and you want to share this for some reason or another, you may do so.

[gloves94]

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 22

Warnings: None   Rating: PG-13   Pairings: Zuko/OC   Summary:  “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…”  His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

Zuko tossed and turned in his bed in a fitful attempt at sleep. He didn't want to sleep. He couldn't sleep and if he did all he would have were nightmares. He would see his uncle's disappointed face and Tsai's twisted with pain. His eyes snapped opened and he turned to see the red head sitting next to his bed.

"Boo!" She said mockingly at the startled prince. He let out a small scream as he fell of the bed.

"What do you think of my new outfit?" She continued to mock him as she made a gesture to the servant rags she was wearing. Her hair was darker and wore her bangs combed back to the side. Her eyes didn't gleam with the same light anymore.

He turned away shaking his head and grabbed a cloak off a hook and swung it over his shoulders as he snuck out of his room. Her mocking laughter haunting his conscience.

He knew where he was going.

xxx

Tsai was in deep slumber. It was the first time she had slept in an actual bed in what felt like forever. It was stiff and would stab at a spot in her back, but she didn't care. It was better than the floor in prison. Besides, there were also no rats here.

She didn't want to think of the awful stuff that Azula would have in mind to her tomorrow. Knowing her she probably had a ranked list of humiliating tasks for her to fulfill. She had also succeeded in infiltrating the Fire Nation's heart. The palace. It would only be a matter of time before she could begin skulking around the palace and communicating with the others.

Zuko knew where Tsai was being kept. It was the room closest to the royal wing. One which was usually used for nannies, nurses and personal aides of the royal family during certain seasons. He stepped in quietly making sure he wasn't seen by any midnight prying eyes and shut the door behind him quietly. The room was small, windowless and austere. With a small bed and a desk and a wooden chair. Her brown dress was tossed over the chair. He knew she wouldn't run away. So did the Fire Lord. After all she had sworn her life and loyalty to the crown.

He approached the bed and took a seat next to her sleeping form. The mattress lightly sinking under his weight. He was hurting. He still couldn't believe they had hurt each other like that. Despite the pain it brought him, he smiled lightly when he heard her light snoring and couldn't help himself. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead and rested his hand there for a second. She looked so different from the morning. So, at peace. There was no pain in her rest. He couldn't believe that her conscience wasn't in turmoil like his.

Her drowsy eyes opened slowly, and it took her that same second to react. They blazed as she clawed at his arm ready to shout. She wondered who would be in more trouble if he was here? And just what Ozai would do to his son if he was caught visiting a servant's sleeping quarters during the late hours of the evening.

He pressed a firm palm to her mouth. "Shh!!!" He hissed silencing her.

He wasn't expecting her to actually bite him and hard.

"Ow!" He cried out really not expecting that and removing his hand. She shoved him off the bed and pushed him to the ground. He landed with a loud thud. Quickly jumping to her bare feet, she stepped on his chest pinning him down looking down at him. She didn't care if she was only wearing sleeping garments which consisted of a peasant top bandeau covering her chest and a pair of loose brown shorts. She looked down at him with judgement in her cold eyes.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't scream bloody hell and let your vile sister and maniacal father find you here." She threatened stepping harder. She wanted to hurt him. Make him feel the same pain she was feeling.

He looked up at her wrapping a hand around her ankle gently.

"Tsai," he said her name in a strained breath. Her weight pushing down on his lungs.

"You're a coward and a snake and above all a traitor! Get out of my room! I never want to see you again!" She cried out removing herself from him not wanting to even be touched by him.

"That's going to be a little hard," he rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "You're right. Considering I'm your personal slave!" She lashed out in fury.

"You stood by them and did nothing! You choose them over the only person who truly loved and cared for you!"

Zuko's eyes widened. He felt something which felt like hope stir inside of him.

"You.. You love me?"

Her face scrunched up in an even angrier scowl. Her nostrils flaring in fury.

"I am talking about your uncle!"

"My uncle!" He connected the dots in his head. He was also probably the person she loved most in this world. Zuko had no doubt that she would always pick her uncle over him. After all they were both basically the same person. Her sudden betrayal to him and newfound allegiance to the Fire Nation. It still made no sense to him.

"You betrayed him too.” He let out in a hollow tone. “Why?” He asked in suspicion with narrowed eyes. Something was off.

She avoided his eyes and shrugged carelessly.

"I don't know what happened between you and Uncle, but I know one thing about you. And you would never go against him. You would never bow to my father like that- and all that talk about honor?" It wasn't her.

She huffed and shook her head. Her dark eyes meeting his concerned ones.

"You don't know me." She paused for a moment. "You don't know anything!" She snapped. Her voice louder. "You don't even know what you're talking about. You really think I would go against my nation? Betray my own family? For what? Because your uncle asked me to?" She lied through her teeth attempting to sound like Azula did when she spoke.

"No," he said softly. "You wouldn't do it because it goes against you. Everything you stand for." He explained calmly.

"Oh, you mean my 'socialist wet-dream' about equality?" She let out a cruel laugh attempting to push his buttons. She wanted to hurt him as bad as he had hurt her. Grab his heart and crush it in the palm of her hand. "I told you long ago. That dream was dead. It's trash. You said it yourself. I am never going to accomplish anything grand and you were dead right. I will now live the remainder days of my life as what you always saw me as - a colonial peasant."

"Tsai, no-" He pleaded. "I- I was wrong." He hesitated looking as if he was being split in two. He appeared distraught.

"Don't- call me that. You have lost the privileged of even calling me by my name. From now on you will address me as a slave or a peasant because that's what I am. That's what you made me!"

Each one of her words was like a ice dagger. Deeply burying and twisting painfully inside of him ripping at his insides slowly, painfully. She was beyond livid.

"Tsai it was-" She interrupted him again.

"After all. That's what you called me in front of your father. You disgust me. I can't believe I- I can't believe I-"

It hurt her. He had hurt her. The only promised he had ever made to her was that nobody would hurt her and how poetic and ironic was it that he had been the only person to do so? She was so hurt. Her heart and mind in shambles and now she had been entrusted with this dangerous mission from General Iroh?

"Tsai! It was the only way of keeping you safe!" He finally snapped his temper flaring to match hers in frustration. She ignored his outburst and continued in her furious spiel.

"And me?" she suddenly scoffed continuing her rant. "I understand. I get it. Hey, it was fun. You used me because you were bored and lonely and a pathetic worm!" She stomped down her foot in fury. "Let's not forget that colonial women are basically whores!'" She spat out venomously.

"Tsai," he pleaded his voice edging to a dangerous growl as his patience stretched thin. "It wasn't like that at all!" He stepped closer. How could he convince her? Tell her truth if she wasn't willing to listen? He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her close. Tell her how sorry he was. At this point he was willing to get on his knees and beg.

"I don't believe you." Her nose wrinkled as her brows knitted in a deeper scowl. "I don't believe anything that comes out of your filthy lying mouth!"

"Yeah?" He challenged. He moved so fast she was almost knocked back by the headbutt when he slammed his mouth against hers hard.

Zuko held his stinging cheek as he stepped back. His soul was on fire. He felt as if he had been brought back to life. She ignited the dying passion inside of him.

"Stay away from me," She breathed dangerously. Tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes. He knew she felt it too.

"I used to believe there was light and peace inside of you. That you could change. That you could let it out and become a better man. That we could change the world around us, but now I'm not so sure..." She trailed off sadly as a stray tear slid down her cheek.

"You sound like uncle," he lamented.

"Good." She said firmly. "At least one of us does."

xxx

It was strange… Her betrayal to his Uncle. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. He had replayed the events of that day over and over in his head and they still made no sense. She stood by it and admitted it to his father. Yet still defended the man's words. Something wasn't adding up.

He quietly snuck out of the palace and began the long trek towards the prison tower that was located inside a hollow volcanic crater northwest of the capital city.

The Fire Nation prince stopped at the base of the stairs that led into the prison and looked up, focusing intently on of the many darkened windows.

"Who's there?" The guard that had been patrolling one of the prison's balconies called out loudly when he spotted Zuko.

Without saying a word, the scarred prince turned and walked away, the guard resuming his patrol behind him.

Zuko walked slowly through the halls of the Capital City Prison, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his head. Ahead of him, the guard on duty stiffened at the sound of his footsteps and whirled around.

"You again?" The guard snapped furiously as he pointed his spear at the scarred prince, "Stop where you are!"

Zuko lifted his head and the guard faltered, his eyes widening.

"Prince Zuko..."

Zuko grabbed the guard by the collar of his uniform and slammed him against the wall roughly, his spear clattering to the floor.

"I'm going in for a visit. You're going to stand guard here, and no one is going to know about this." Zuko growled lowly then he released the guard and entered the cell.

His breath caught slightly in his throat when he saw his uncle sitting in the middle of the metal cell at the back of the stone room, his gray hair hanging in scraggly tangles down his back.

"Uncle," Zuko rasped as he approached the metal bars and lowered the hood of his cloak, "It's me."

Iroh shifted so his back was to the metal bars and his nephew, a faint scowl marring his face.

"You brought this on yourself you know." Zuko stated as he stood in front of the metal bars that split half of his uncle's stone cell, "We could have returned together. You could have been a hero!"

Iroh shifted slightly on the thin mat he was sitting on, keeping his back to his nephew and not looking at him. Giving him the silent treatment.

"You have no right to judge me, Uncle!" Zuko spat furiously, feeling the harsh judgement in his uncle's deafening silence. "I did what I had to do in Ba Sing Se, and you're a fool for not joining me!"

Iroh's shoulders tensed slightly, but he continued to ignore his nephew.

"You're not going to say anything?" The scarred prince demanded, his voice cracking slightly before he snarled and whirled around, kicking up a small stool before destroying it with a punch and fire bending.

"You're a crazy old man!" Zuko shouted angrily at his uncle's back, "You're crazy! And if you weren't in jail, you'd be sleeping in the gutter!"

Zuko stormed out of the stone cell slamming the door behind him. Inside the cell, Iroh's lowered his head slightly and closed his eyes.

xxx

Tsai hadn't been able to sleep after Zuko's night visit. So by the crack of dawn she stood at the side of Azula's bed awaiting for the princess to awake. It would be so easy. She could smother the princess with a pillow and make a run for it. However, that would be counter productive.

Sometime later she awoke.

"Good morning Princess Azula," Tsai spoke in a tone with no hint of emotion when she awoke. "Good morning pet," Azula's smirk stretched across her face maliciously. How was it possible for somebody to wake up and already have malicious thoughts at this hour?

"Fetch my clothing and dress me," She instructed.

Without a choice she nodded and went off to get her clothes and bring them to the girl. Azula sat on the edge of her bed bringing her feet down and stretched. "Now dress me," she ordered.

“Oh, these?” She said as she picked up her royal garments. “Yes,” Azula repeated growing annoyed at the way she was looking at her clothes.

“I had a similar outfit back home,” she said in the most stuck up tone she could muster. “Very last year.” She spoke using the most judgmental tone she felt her mother would use.

“What do you know?” Azula snapped angrily. “Afterall you’re just a peasant!”

Tsai shrugged with a sly smile as she turned away and walked into Azula’s walk in closet hand picking out another outfit.

“I think this… Would suit the princess much better.” She pulled out a similar outfit and brought it to Azula slightly bowing her head before her.

She hated this. Hated being like this. She still wanted nothing more than to bury that knife Azula had so gracefully given her in their last physical encounter into her shoulder. An eye for an eye. But for now, she had no choice but to play nice. Azula watched her cautiously with narrowed eyes before making the girl dress her.

“See?” She said adjusting the back of her dress. Tsai wasn’t sure what to say next. She was egg shelling around the princess. One wrong move and it was all over, but how would she accomplish this? How did one become friends with a person like Azula? Did she have any friends at all?

“I wish I was half as pretty as you.” The girl added stroking Azula’s already swollen ego. On par, satisfied, Azula smirked before running a hand through her dark hair.

Tsai felt dirty saying such things to such a horrible person. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t what she was supposed to be doing.

"I've also got an attire for you," Azula suddenly said said. "I won't let my pet be seen wearing such atrocious rags."

The clothes she had been given consisted of a crimson maroon skirt that reached her mid tight and had one part in the front that was longer than the rest. It had a golden embroidered trim like most traditional Fire Nation clothes and fastened at the waist with a thin gold string. Azula had made her wear a crop top which revealed most of her abdomen. Something she really wasn’t comfortable with and wouldn’t usually wear.

"Perfect," Azula said as her eyes snaked over her servant’s body.

"One final touch." She approached her and standing before her put an actual dog's necklace around her neck. The accessory was bold, thick and dark. It was meant to be both demanding and humiliating. A terrible way of dehumanizing her into what she was in Azula's eyes, a pet.

Azula smiled wickedly her hands lingering on the other girl's neck for a moment.

First Azula made Tsai go and fetch her breakfast bring it to her bedroom chambers, feed it to her and then return it to the kitchen. Afterwards she made her brew some of her ‘famous’ tea which she spit out in her face and claimed it tasted like “shitty leaf water” and made her brew the same herb combination all over again.

Tsai would’ve been lying if she didn’t admit she considered poisoning her on the spot.

Azula made her do this several times until she grew bored. Afterwards she made her sit behind her and brush every single strand of her voluminous midnight black hair at least one-hundred times. Then she made her massage her feet. Organize her closet just for her to state she hated it and have her completely re-arrange the entire thing all over again.

Azula had gone who knows were to do who knows what when Tsai lay outside of her bedroom chambers polishing the palace marble floors with a dirty rag.

Her eyes couldn’t help but wonder around the grand palace as she mapped out the structure of the building in her head.

“Be silent and observant. Take note of everything and all detail-“

She shifted uncomfortably stopping the torturous polishing for a moment.

“-You will know what to do when the time is right.”

She had an idea of what Iroh had meant by that, but how? How was she to get away from the palace? Sneak off and away from everyone without getting caught?

“Are you just going to lay there like a fat cow or are you going to finish polishing my floors?” Azula suddenly stood before her hands on her waist.

The girl swallowed her pride and retort and turned her attention back to mindlessly polishing floors.

"Come with me," She barked out a contradicting order.

Tsai sighed and dropped the rag following after her 'Master.'

xxx

Zuko lounged on the picnic blanket on a cliff watching the sunset over the ocean with Mai, leaning against him, a content expression on her usually blank face.

This was painful. It reminded him of his first date with Tsai in Ba Sing Se. It was like cutting an open wound and applying lemon to it. It stung.

“Orange is such an awful color." Mai mused idly as she stared at the sunset.

"It's so beautiful," He remembered the look of awe on the colonial girl's face as they stood watching the sunset in the Earth Kingdom.

Zuko forced himself to remain relaxed. He thought of the golden light reflecting against her skin and her vibrant colored her and how happy the two of them had been that day.

"Stay away from me,"She breathed dangerously.

Her cold words still stung him. Those four simple words weighted so much. He shifted uncomfortably and Mai noticed and looked at him quizzically.

Mai tilted her head to look up at him with a soft expression, "Don’t worry. I don't hate you," she said looking at her through her full dark lashes.

"I don't hate you too." Zuko murmured back, leaning forward slightly to kiss her as her hand came up to cup his unscarred cheek.

"Ahem." A voice interrupted.

Zuko pulled away from Mai, ignoring the faint feeling of guilt he felt and turned to glare at his sister with an annoyed expression. His eyes went wide when he saw Tsai standing behind her and the revealing outfit his sister had forced her to wear. He swallowed nervously. Regardless she looked pale, almost sick, her eyes bore no signs of a jealous fire.

They looked dead as they met his.

He could feel Mai hugging his arm tighter as she looked between him and Azula's servant immediately sensing the growing tension in the air.

"Zuko, could I have a word with you?" Azula asked with false politeness as she stood near the couple, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Can't you see we're busy?" Zuko demanded sharply and wrapped his arm tighter around his new girlfriend.

Azula narrowed her eyes then smiled slyly and said in an offhand manner, "Oh Mai, Ty Lee needs your help untangling her braid."

Mai pulled away from Zuko and reluctantly got her feet, "Sounds pretty serious," she spoke in the same full, emotionless tone she said everything and anything.

She walked past Azula and Tsai glaring at both of them her from the corner of her eye. Azula glanced over her shoulder at the other girl's retreating back then turned to look at her brother with a sardonic expression.

"So, I've heard you've been to visit your uncle fatso in the prison tower."

Zuko surged to his feet with a furious expression, "That guard told you!"

Tsai flinched slightly at the way Azula spoke about Iroh.

"No." Azula replied flippantly with a thin smile, "You did. Just now."

'Iroh.…' Tsai thought sadly. 'So he went to see him hmm..'

She thought about Iroh with worry. Concerned for his well-being. She hoped she knew what he was doing. That he was okay.

Zuko heaved a sigh and sat back down on the blanket, his arms resting on his bent knees, "Okay, you caught me. What is it that you want, Azula?"

"Actually, nothing. Believe it or not, I'm looking out for you." Azula said, her voice actually sounding sincere, "If people find out you've been to see Uncle, they'll think you're plotting with him. Just be careful, Dum-Dum."

Azula let out what sounded like a scoff.

"I smell a rat." She said. "There's rumors of a traitor amongst us. Somebody has been leaking out information from the palace. Just the other day they shot down a fire hawk leaving the Nation with confidential war plans."

She turned on her heel. "You don't want people to think its you, right?" She turned her attention to her servant. "Now, let's go." She ordered.

Zuko watched quietly as his sister walked back down the cliff. He turned to look at the setting sun. Tsai's sad eyes were lost as she gazed at the sunset. It saddened her heart. The memory of the last time the two of them had looked at the sunset. He looked at her and stretched a hand out to her. With a scowl and a sharp turn, she shifted away quickly and followed after Azula.

Zuko's eyes turned back to the setting sun. It was no use. No matter where he turned, he would see her. He now had to stifle the guilt that surged up inside him, making his throat close up and his chest feel heavy. Alone, he silently admitted to himself that he loved her. That Mai would never be able to replace the gaping hole she had left in his chest. That he had been happiest those last days in Ba Sing Se when he lived a simpler life with her and his uncle.

He then buried the feeling deep inside him, locking it away.

Xxx

'What did you expect? Hm.' She walked alongside him that night. The imaginary spectrum that had become his conscience. 'You really expected me to take your filthy hand and what? Watch the sunset with you after I see you KISSING ANOTHER GIRL?'  The imaginary girl in his head said with a jealousy he was more familiar with.

"Listen." He growled out almost sounding like her. "I miss you and you won't have me back. So, I'm trying to forget you. Can you make it easier for me and just go away?!"

'Fat chance,' she clicked her tongue. Hands on waist. On that outfit her sister had been making her wear. "Besides, I'm not all that bad to look at right?"She smirked and toyed with the dog collar she had been forced to wear.

He felt the heat rising to his cheeks and again struck her imaginary embodiment making it vanish. An evil laugh resounding in his head.

Zuko walked into his Uncle's cell and crouched down beside the bars, sliding a small basket of food between the bars.

"I brought you some komodo-chicken." He said quietly to his uncle's back, "I know you don't care for it, but I figure it beats prison food." He sat back on his heels and stared blankly at his hands, "I admit it, I have everything I always wanted, but it's not at all how I thought it would be. The truth is, I need your advice."

Zuko gripped the bars, his knuckles turning white, "I think the Avatar is still alive, I know he's out there, I'm losing my mind. I'm hearing voices, seeing things. Azula has taken Tsai as her personal servant, I need to help her. I can't stop thinking of the malicious ways in which she is torturing her." He stared at his uncle's back pleadingly and his voice turned desperate, "Please, Uncle, I'm so confused! I need your help." He pleaded.

Iroh didn't move and anger filled Zuko, burning his chest even as his heart pounded painfully against his ribs.

"Forget it, I'll solve it myself!" The scarred prince snarled as he stood up and stalked towards the door, "Waste away in here for all I care!"

Zuko hesitated a moment and glanced back at, but his uncle didn't move, so he slammed the door behind him. In the cell, Iroh bowed his head, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

xxx

Hiding in the shadow of his cloak's hood, Zuko walked silently down a dark alley until he reached the middle. He lowered his hood and looked around calmly, turning his head slightly when a noise reached his ears. He turned around completely and stared impassively at the large man with a metal leg and arm standing in front of him.

"You sure you weren't followed?" Zuko asked coolly and the man nodded slightly, "I've heard about you. They say you're good at what you do, and even better at keeping secrets. The Avatar is alive. I want you to find him and end him."

The man stared blankly at Zuko, the third eye tattooed on his forehead briefly illuminated by the light of the moon.

Xxx

Zuko was making his way back to the Royal Palace when he saw a retreating form sneaking back into the palace. He lowered his hood as he observed from a safe distance.

He hid amongst the shadows and waited. Carefully observing. It was Tsai. He would recognize that mane of crimson shades hair just anywhere.

His eyebrows went up in shock as Azula's words from earlier resounded in his head.

"There's rumors of a traitor amongst us. Somebody has been leaking out information from the palace…"

He once again felt that sunstone burning in his pocket. Pulling it out he looked at it in the darkness of the night and prayed his eyes were playing tricks on him.

xxx

FIRST https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621142853126602752/sunburn-prince-zuko-1

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621586957538099200/sunburn-prince-zuko-23

PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621569264636362752/sunburn-prince-zuko-21

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

#prince zuko #zuko #zukoxreader #zuko x you #Zuko x oc #fanfiction #fanfic #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar fanfic #avatar x oc #avatar fanfiction #atla #atla fanfic #iroh #azula #oc #original character #atla x oc

[askmalal]

A few points of order.. these may offend some of you. That is not my intent. But as a long time lover of the IP, the sheer hate being shown to converters and kitbashers, as well as their suppliers, is baffling to me lately, especially given that these people -made Rogue Trader what it was-.

I’m not speaking of recasters here, incidentally.

This shouldn’t be seen as an attack on GW either, so none of that nonsense. I have good friends who work for GW, and have longed to write for them for years.

1. GW did not innovate Space Marines, Space Orks, Space Dwarves, Squats, Dark Gods, the Chaos Gods. or, incidentally, Emperors on the edge of death prolonged indefinitely by arcane machinery.

For the record, it didn’t invent miniatures gaming, let alone fantasy and sci-fi miniatures gaming, either.

2. GW has lost several cases to that effect in recent court decisions.

3. One of my mortal forms operates a small miniatures company. He knows how much it costs to sculpt, mold, and produce a miniature in terms of time and money. The markup on GW products can be upwards of 500% or more. Standard industry markup is about half that at most.

4. If you speak to most in the industry, GW’s problems with costs occur for four (4) principle reasons.

A) Greed (They are not by any means unique or even the most egregious in this regard in miniatures wargames. Think GW is bad? 1990s era Foundry, early 2000s Mongoose and Rackham; Battlefront and Knight Models would like a word with you.)

B) Admission by GW’s own official documents that it does “no market research,” which may explain why GW is operating with a pricing model that assumes there are no direct competitors.

C) Planned obsolescence in miniatures rules. Deliberate relaunch of games even when promises and assurance that this will not be the case. Modern hobbyists simply do not have the funds or the patience to contend with this.

D) Limited production facilities. GW essentially uses a single facility for most manufacturing. (this is why there are shortages of everything right now) This factory switches between GW and Forge World models (they are the same company) to make best use of facilities. This is why, for example, FW will often pull popular sets. GW has realized that if a FW model sells too well, it will require a larger amount of factory time and, hence, greatly limit the “core ranges” in production. It seems nonsensical, but for their cash poor/profit rich production model to succeed, maximum production must squeezed out of every “mainstream” mold. For example: Betrayal at Calth was the most popular GW boxed set ever, but there was never any long term plan for mass production of the Horus Heresy stuff in plastic. Nobody expected it to do so well (no market research, remember) and so most of that endeavor has been sidelined.

5. Third Party Model manufacturers exist for virtually every aspect of the miniatures hobby. They thrive in GW proxy sense because:

a) Demand exceeds supply.

b) Costs exceed most gamer budgets.

c) Paradoxically, making the game less conversion friendly in order to combat both legitimate third party options and recasters has actually increased demand.

6. GW did the right thing shutting down for the pandemic. But the shutdown did its robbing Peter to pay Paul production system no favors. The costs you pay are not because of third party alternatives; they are because of poor pricing strategy by GW as well as generally bad decisions regarding the withdrawal of popular models in order to spite competitors. Which is quite literally cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face.

7. A final point. Some GW employees have exacerbated the problems because after the “dark period” of the late 90s and early 2000s, GW has gone to great lengths to improve employee rights. As a socialist, I laud this. But it also complicates matters. Consider these issues:

- Black Library and FW have very little communication. They often contradict each other. Any Horus Heresy player can tell you this. For example: according to BL... Post Istvaan Nathaniel Garro’s armor has no “bling” ; there are loyalists and traitors in -every- Legion, etc.

- There is no “plot bible”: not for the novels (GW has -never-, for example, said that the Chaos Dwarves are extinct or that there are no loyalist chapters descended from traitor Legion loyalists, no matter what your favorite author’s personal social media account might say); and not for the miniatures: Mk. IV armor is described different ways by different writers and interpreted differently by different sculptors. This is actually a more significant problem for the tabletop gamer than you might think (to say nothing of the role player or users of other licensed products such as board games)

- GW tries to be very open minded, officially, with regards to players and their armies. The so-called “your dudes” approach works well. This does not stop employees from making absurd statements or contradicting rules clarifications.

Let us not even begin with the absurd assumptions made by tournament players about the rest of the community, or vice versa. These complicate matters regarding all of the aforesaid issues ever more.

That’s my tuppence. Now back to your regularly scheduled being a bad guy. (Don’t get me started on -Malal’s- IP issues....)

[pickyperkypenguin]

some reflections on dying hair with henna (lawsonia inermis)

i’ve had dyed my hair red with henna/lawsonia inermis (sometimes with added amla/emblica officinalis, and jatropha) for four years, since i was about sixteen year old ‘til i was about twenty. somewhere at the two or three year mark i roped up my mother into dying her hair with henna too. so, i’ve been dying my own and then my mother’s hair with herbs for the last ten years every month or two. i feel like i might have the right to talk about it just because i’ve done it so many times and got consistent results

it took me long enough to figure out my perfect recipe, but the amount of misinformation i see on the internet in regards to henna dying process is staggering. i thought, okay, maybe ten years ago it was relatively knew in the polish corner of the world wide web, but now? sure it should be more popular? and okay, i did manage to find some info faster than those years ago (boy, let me tell you it was some google-fu required to get into that information back then, and all was, like, crowd-sourced from experimentally-inclined hair bloggers - a sub-type of beauty bloggers - and wise, old and jaded women who knew henna as chna, because they’ve used it back in the socialist times, when it was still imported from the east, hence the different spelling). but still, it was not much, however, there were some more professional sources involved than cosmetics forums. i’ll check the anglophone side, i thought. sure it should be much better, yeah? no misinfo?

goddamn, was i wrong. like, on one hand it was much better, because you have those amazing sources from especially indian women, for whom it is very much a traditional thing so the technique was perfected for, like, millenia. they know what they’re doing. but - and here comes my surprise - there was much of the same simply wrong bullshit from other sources? and i was like, what the hell, why do you even do that, why do you spread information that is clearly wrong - and you’ve had the chance to cross-reference it with very good sources without learning a whole other language in the process? so, like, why? why do people do that? i do not understand.

*if you are curious and want some unsolicited advice from a person who is not an expert, then, here, have my completely unprofessional opinion that’s based solely on years of experience and observation of dying first never previously dyed hair, and then naturally grey hair, which was (is) also getting regularly permed, because my mother has never left the eighties:

the perfect recipe is this:

add sugar and lemon juice when using pure henna or when you combine it with amla and/or jatropha

don’t use acids when you add indigo/indigofera tinctoria, because it needs alkaline environment. you can add either some black tea or a bit of salt

but do not add that salt, to be honest, because it’s not good for your hair, it dries it out

i’m not sure if adding sugar would be bad when dying with indigo (idk about its acidity level - is this a thing in this case?), but sugar is generally a humectant, and really helps the dye to have a lot smoother consistency. 

also, sugar might moisturise your hair, but i’m not entirely sure about that - even if one moisturises hair with something, the hair cuticles (is that the word in english?) should be then closed/smoothed down with something else, oil or silicone, to keep the moisture in? otherwise you’re just preparing your hair to be frizzy as hell, because porosity and different level of humidity in the air is a thing

the consistency of the dye should be adjusted to your own preferences and the thickness of the hair, don’t feel like you have to get that arbitrary greek yogurt thickness. that literally doesn’t matter, it’ll work anyway as long as you cover it and keep it moist. don’t let the dye dry, you might get uneven patches of colour. keep it covered with plastic wrap and put a towel on, herbal dyes like warmth to develop properly

speaking of warmth - about 80 C for henna, no more than 40-50 for indigo, maybe even less, around 30 C. never want the dye to be boiled

what also matters is not adding oil to the mixture. it will hinder the dying process. so, no fatty yogurt, no coconut oil. you can do it after, at least a day or two (for indigo at least two, maybe even three) days after

honey will not 'clog’ anything, i have no idea where did it come from. it’s not a fat, it shouldn’t do anything except for the same thing that sugar does

idk, you may add honey instead of sugar if you’re feeling extra, but no, it will not make the shade any different (i’ve seen stuff like adding honey will give you that honey-blond lustre. it will not. cassia might, for grey and very fair blonde hair. but won’t change much when you’re using something much stronger, like henna). and if you think it will give you some health benefits? i mean, i do think honey is healthy for you, but i very much prefer to eat it, simply as that

i have no idea how does that work, if it builds into your hair, if there is some magic with herbal proteins and hair proteins, but herbal dyes, henna especially, thickens your hair. which is marvellous. i believe that ridiculous statement only because i happened to be gross that one time and lost a hairbrush before i managed to clean it, and it was just after my first two or three henna dyes. i found that brush four years later, after consistent dying every single month, and i compared my hair from the brush with the ones in my head - and the ones on my head, despite comparing the very ends - you know, easily reachable when you have hair reaching your butt - and the ends of hair that long are thinner and split in my case - were still thicker (almost twice as thick!) as those from the brush. it was fucking wild

it builds up and darkens overtime, so your ends might be darker than your roots, if you dye the whole thing, as i did

i never dyed with indigo, but relaying on second-hand experience - if you have hair on the lighter side, do the two-step process and pre-dye with henna first. if you don’t, the blue of the indigo and the yellow that your hair contains combine, and you might end up with something green-ish on your head 

although, you know, that’s basic colour theory, i don’t know what people expect when they do that and then act surprised - herbal dyes only cover what is already there, they don’t bleach or strip your natural colour before. that’s why henna ends up very bright on bleached or grey hair and yes, you should very much do the two-step thing, if you want your grey hair black not green

also, never understood what’s so wrong with green hair. go and be that nymph, live your true forest god life, eff society

a quick guide for colours:

henna - pure red

henna+jatropha - fox-red, as in warm, yellow-ish, brassy, beautiful for skin with warm and olive undertones

henna+amla - red but cooler, not exactly a cherry, but much different shade than pure henna or h+j, awesome for cooler and neutral skin tones

henna+amla+jatropha - idk what you’re trynna do, mate, but it’ll be somewhere in the red region, depends on proportions

henna+indigo - depending on proportions, anywhere from cooler brown to dark red-ish brown

indigo - black with blue-ish tinge, on lighter hair should be used on pre-dyed with henna hair

cassia - might give you warm, blonde-ish shade on grey or very fair hair, might do absolutely nothing, you can add it to henna mixes to ensure the warm tone

#henna #henna hair #henna treatement #whatever life #i tried to do the kristen stewart in underwater it did not work out #that's what sparked this whole rant anyway #first i dyed with theoretically platinum blonde chemical dye #which got my hair somewhere around ginger #then i decided to bleach it which got me the classic easter chick #then i thought of toning it but only had an old plum toner #which brought it to lilac #i was not happy because it got uneven - in some places more pink in some more blue #which - like - predictable - already had that experience #so i thought oh maybe i can bleach it the second time all those people who are dying white are doing this #yeah lady they do *before* the toner #and yeah it has got me - you guessed it - the famous green #not a very bad kind of green slightly blue-ish rather pastel #i guess some people probs dye it like this on purpose #but on me this shade looks horrible and i would keep it only if i had a turquoise toner on hand #i did not and so it came to henna #it's currently on my hair and i swear i have no idea what will happen when i take it off and if it will even work #if not well i have about a centimetre of hair on my head i can get it to zero or two milimetres

[nothingunrealistic]

77, riawin, cause poor winston is trying so hard :’)

77. “We’re meant for each other.”

The crazy thing about doing unapproved nootropics with your coworkers is how fantastic everybody’s ideas seem until one sober person comes along and pokes holes in them all.

To Winston, the Axe Cap strategy to corner the minerals market and make geopolitical gains had sounded like a winner, from the minute Mafee had filled them in on the plan, through Rian ferreting out the phone numbers of half a dozen top Chilean bureaucrats and Axe glancing his way when one of his nicer analysts pointed Winston out as the developer of the trading tool being used to sell the most worthless of Axe Cap’s positions, right up to the moment he’d greeted Taylor with news of the play and his role in it. But something about Taylor leaving the office with the last of Mase Carb’s Vigilantrix stash and sweeping back in three minutes later, ordering everyone to turn off their terminals and go home for the night, and asking Winston and Rian to wait in their office while they tracked down Mafee gave Winston the sinking feeling that freeing up $3 billion to capture meteors and mine them for rare metals wasn’t as solid a move as they’d all thought.

“This is like being in time-out,” Rian says. She’s next to him on the couch across from Taylor’s desk, which is weird considering there are plenty of other seats and he was here first. Winston sometimes inwardly calls it the Couch of Shame, since he’s only ever sat here when his job was on the line; he wonders if that’s true now too. “Reminds me of my last job.”

“Do you think we’re in trouble?”

“Obviously we are. Otherwise I wouldn’t have compared it to time-out.” Rian frowns a little, and it makes Winston’s heart skip a beat. Well, he hopes Rian frowning is the cause. He wasn’t given a list of side effects for this stuff. “I’m just not sure why.”

“Probably because Taylor thinks Axe is making a bad move and we shouldn’t have helped him,” Winston says. “Or it’s not Earth-friendly enough to justify using Mase Carbon resources, or both, or some other thing Taylor’s thought of and we haven’t.”

“I don’t see how Taylor could think of anything we haven’t. We’re cognitively enhanced.”

“Taylor doesn’t need enhancement to be smart, that’s why they’re the CEO.”

Rian turns her whole head to look at him. “Do you always get sappy when your brain chemistry is altered?”

“Sappy?” The question — the accusation, that’s what it is — kicks his pulse up more than a few BPM. “I’m not sappy.”

“You’re defending Taylor’s intelligence to me for no reason. I know they’re smart. And before, you were staring at me and saying how I’m so impressive and we’re meant for each other.”

“Did I really say that last thing?” Did the Vigilantrix fry his memory? He desperately needs his memory to not be fried. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Okay,” Rian says. “I’m kidding. Estoy bromeando.”

That was suspiciously easy. “I feel like you only said that because I asked and not because it’s true.”

“You never said it had to be true.”

The office door swings open and Taylor strides in, followed by Mafee. “— and you know how convincing Axe can be even on a normal day.”

“I do.”

Mafee throws himself into a chair. “If you were there when he was singing the praises of this shit and on it himself, you would have taken it too —”

“I wouldn’t have, actually. But I suppose that was an editorial ‘you.’” Taylor sits down behind their desk. “Okay. I’d like to hear, from any or all of you, a coherent summary of what happened today so that it can be fixed.”

“What needs fixing?” Rian says. Winston elbows her in the side; she elbows him back. “Axe’s plan is about to go off without a hitch.”

“The plan is the hitch. Counting on a Socialist loss in Chile to pave the way to a planetary launch site there for a meteor capture mission is nonsensical, and the only reason it’s come this close to execution is that everyone else in this office is high on untested stimulants and misplaced confidence.”

“My confidence is placed fine.”

“Rian.” Taylor leans forward. “You are not fluent in Spanish. And Winston does not admire Axe so much that he would be giddy over Axe simply looking in his direction on any other day.”

“First of all, I’m right here, again,” Winston says, over Rian insisting “¡Mi hambre es bombero tirantes!” “Second, appreciating someone actually appreciating me for once doesn’t mean my brain’s fucking broken.”

“So you being obnoxious right now is just you?” Mafee folds his arms, managing to be even more annoying than he’s accusing Winston of being, the sanctimonious jackass. “I already had a headache and you’re making it worse.”

“Says the guy who fed us all uppers in the first place. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

“I never said you had to take them.”

“You sure fucking implied it.”

“You kind of did,” Rian puts in. Winston could kiss her, which is a dangerous thought to be having for many reasons but primarily because his voice-brain barrier has been far too permeable already today. “Said we might be shut out if we went without.”

“You know what I’d like to shut out? You two and your goddamn —”

“Hey!” Taylor barks, shutting everyone up at once. Somehow Winston had forgotten they were there. “Thank you. Winston.” They turn to him. “What I would appreciate is you telling me what button I need to press to prevent this from going forward.” A crease appears between their eyebrows. “If you can.” 

Winston opens his mouth to deliver the rundown, then rewinds to the end of their request. “What do you mean, if I can? What makes you think I couldn’t?”

“You’re shaking,” Taylor says with quiet concern. Winston glances down at his hands — sure enough, they’re trembling like he downed half a dozen Red Bulls instead of one pill — and realizes his heart never stopped racing. “Mafee, you said you had a headache.”

“Yeah, and I don’t usually get them.”

Taylor turns to Rian. “Are you experiencing any adverse effects?”

A shrug. “I’ve had, like, no appetite all day, if that counts.”

Winston looks from Rian, whose confidence now seems as shaky as he feels, to Mafee, who’s unwound his arms to cradle his head in one hand, to Taylor, whose jaw is tight when they say, “Okay. Go home, all of you, and rest. I’ll handle this.”

#inbox #anonymous #billions #winston billions #rian billions #riawin #sometimes i write #i am sure this is not even remotely close to what anon was hoping for... and i sure was hoping for it to Not take as long as it did to write #but it EXISTS and it is COMPLETE and it is OVER 1K

[diner-drama]

Too Hot to Handle (4/?)

The Avengers And Friends all end up on a Love Island style reality TV show, but it turns out there’s a twist... Also on ao3.

Steve was just waking up, blinking sleepily at the people milling around his sun lounger.

"Hey," said Bucky, poking Steve's bicep. "Let's increase the closeness of our romantic relationship so Jarvis lets us go on a date."

"M'kay," agreed Steve groggily. "Howzat?"

The next evening, Jarvis lit up with a surprise announcement.

"Tony and Pepper. As a reward for the increasing closeness of your romantic relationship, we have arranged a date for you on the beach tonight."

The lovebirds looked up from where they were cloistered together in a hammock.

"Does this mean we're allowed a kiss? A little kiss-a-roo? A bijoux kiss-let?" asked Tony hopefully.

"No," said Jarvis flatly.

"Bad luck, man," said Bucky, looking up from his book. The gleaming muscles of Steve's chest as he dozed on his recliner were blocking his view of Tony and Pepper, but he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed. Steve had his head tipped back and was drooling a little bit, and Bucky was surprised that he found it incredibly endearing.

"You may now both go to the dressing room and change into formal wear," continued Jarvis, ignoring Bucky entirely. "Your date will begin in thirty minutes."

A few of them followed the lucky couple into the dressing rooms to help them prepare for their date. Carol slammed her locker door quickly on hearing them approach, and hurriedly began to debate the merits of different types of underwear with Pepper. Tony slipped into his tuxedo with practiced ease, deigning to let Clint tie his shoelaces and Bucky run a lint roller over his shoulders.

Emerging from a cloud of hairspray, Pepper walked up to Tony and began to fasten his bow tie for him, smiling. Her blue silk backless dress was stunning against her pale skin and flame-red hair.

"Wow," said Tony. "You look-"

"I know," she replied, patting his bow. "Shall we?"

Confident Tony looked almost shy as he placed one hand on the small of her back to escort her out to the veranda. Bucky and the others followed them outside and watched as they made their way to the beach, where a table had been set up for them with a white cloth, real silverware, and a formal meal laid out. A bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket in the center of the table and there was a single, red rose in a vase. Bucky sighed internally, quietly jealous.

Steve was just waking up, blinking sleepily at the people milling around his sun lounger.

"Hey," said Bucky, poking Steve's bicep. "Let's increase the closeness of our romantic relationship so Jarvis lets us go on a date."

"M'kay," agreed Steve groggily. "Howzat?"

Bucky managed to wake Steve up further by making him an espresso and then they cuddled up on the now-vacated hammock and stared mutely at each other for a moment before they started to laugh.

"I have no idea how to begin this conversation," admitted Steve, keeping his hand chastely on Bucky's waist. Bucky had to avert his eyes from Steve's gleaming chest, and slid a hand up to grasp his bicep, which didn't help the situation at all. Christ, Steve could probably lift an oil tanker over his head and toss it around like a juggling ball.

"Um... OK, so, if you could have anyone, living or dead, as a dinner guest, who would it be?" mumbled Bucky, mildly embarrassed by his hackneyed opening salvo.

"You got that out of a magazine, didn't you."

Bucky punched him on the arm. "Answer the question, punk."

Rubbing his arm, Steve thought for a moment. "I've always thought it would be cool to talk to Eugene Debs."

Bucky let out a delighted laugh, unsurprised. "Of course Mr. Collective Action is a closet socialist."

"OK then, who's yours, Ayn Rand?" snorted Steve.

"Mary Shelley, hands down," he replied immediately, having considered this question before.

Steve's eyes widened. "Oh man, I want to change my answer. She basically invented science fiction."

Bucky clapped a hand over Steve's mouth to keep himself from kissing him. "Stop being perfect."

Through Bucky's fingers, Steve managed to speak, sounding muffled. "Did you know she kept her husband's heart in her desk after he died?"

"Did you know she lost her virginity on her mother's grave?" Bucky couldn't stop himself from adding, moving his hand from Steve's mouth to run through his hair, scratching at his scalp with his short fingernails and eliciting a moan.

"God, I want to bang you right now," admitted Steve, gritting his teeth, his hand tightening convulsively on Bucky's hip.

"Ah-ah, Stevie. We made a promise, remember?" teased Bucky.

"Stop using my words against me."

"While there is a soul in prison, I am not free..." continued Bucky with a cheeky grin.

"Christ," hissed Steve, running a hand over his face. "You're the worst."

"I know you're all about solidarity or whatever, and I get that," said Bucky, still stroking through the soft strands of Steve's hair, "but you don't believe that having sex is a bad thing, right?"

"If I did I'd be the biggest hypocrite on the planet," laughed Steve. "The entire basis of this show is problematic as hell - they shouldn't be legitimizing slut-shaming for the sake of entertainment."

Bucky let out a low whistle. "You really are a social justice warrior, huh?"

"Social justice paladin," mumbled Steve.

By the time Bucky had finished gasping with laughter in between calling Steve the biggest nerd on the planet, the sun was setting over the water and the warm air was getting cooler, perking up Steve's nipples into hard little peaks.

"Put those away," Bucky instructed, shielding his eyes. "I don't want to lose us money by getting to second base with you."

Peggy threw a blanket at them from her perch on the couch, hitting their bodies with a thwap. "Here, before Barnes' erection gets the TV show canceled," she said sharply.

Natasha snickered and walked over to seat herself on Peggy's lap. "I like a girl who respects the FCC," she purred.

Bucky and Steve laughed and covered themselves in the thin blanket as the two women started murmuring words to each other which, based on the expression on Peggy's face, would probably violate several broadcasting regulations.

"Take it as a compliment," said Bucky, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his crotch.

"I've been reciting every baseball statistic I've ever memorized in my head this whole time, else I'd be right there with you," admitted Steve.

"Speaking of right there with me..."

"Buck."

"I mean..." said Bucky slowly, biting his lip suggestively and being as seductive as possible. "It's not like Jarvis can see what we're doing underneath this blanket..."

"Probably not," Steve whispered, his lips hovering millimeters from Bucky's ear, "but you look like a screamer to me."

"Mmm, guilty," hummed Bucky, delighted with the turn this conversation was taking. "I bet you'd like to make me scream sometime."

"Honey, when I'm done with you there'll be people three blocks away who know what you sound like when you're having your brains fucked out."

Stricken, Bucky made a small, strangled sound and started rearranging the blanket. "I'm putting up a protective blanket wall between us," he said loudly in the direction of Jarvis' microphone. "We are being very mature and restrained."

As Steve threw his head back in laughter, gripping his own chest with one hand, Bucky reflected that being mature and restrained was highly overrated.

#stucky #my fics #too hot to handle

[raleighliving]

Pros and Cons of College Life in Raleigh

Last time I wrote about colleges in Raleigh generally and how it’s not like other college towns. This time, I’m gonna be speaking a bit more about the pros and cons so it should be a little more specific.

Before that, however, I wanna make this clear: Raleigh is not somewhere you should move to for college unless the school you’ve applied to is your dream school.  

In terms of academics, there are better choices than NC State or WPU. If you wanna study biology or medicine, schools like UNC-W or Duke would probably be a better fit for instance. If you live in Raleigh, don’t pick a school just because it’s close; if you live in another part of the states and you want to attend an east coast school there are options all along the east coast that you should consider.  

Raleigh is a great place to live and work, and there are plenty of friendly people here; but a degree from the right university can make or break your career (depending on the field and other aspects of course).

As a person suffering from anxiety, the question “Do you want the good news or bad news first” has always been a terrible one for me. Up until I hear the bad news, it could be literally anything regardless of what the person asking was doing or how much of the task they were on I’m familiar with.

Similarly, living in Raleigh (or really anywhere for that matter) is going to present a lot of subjective pros and cons. Please keep in mind this is gonna be super subjective, but I hope you enjoy reading this even if we disagree.

But you didn’t come here to read three paragraphs of disclaimer. So lets start by listing the good stuff.  

Raleigh is a city full of vibrant color, culture, and cool shit. You can find cool things almost anywhere you look, regardless of where you are in Raleigh. I mean, all of the pictures (including those in this article) I use for this blog I’ve taken in Raleigh or nearby it. As a result, the first pro has got to be the beltline highway system.  

The beltline is a highway system composed of I-440, I-40, and parts of I-540 that encapsulates all of Raleigh. It connects north and south Raleigh while having downtown in the center, letting travelers easily reach nearly any part of Raleigh. 

I’ve lived on the border of Durham, Cary, and Rolesville at different points in my life. I’ve had to make trips to Garner and Apex for various reasons. At no point in my 20+ year stay have I ever had to make a city trip that lasted longer than a half-hour (one way). It makes working in Raleigh especially easy, since the abundance of highway access points and the convenience of the loop design means I’m never too far from that loop. 

It even helps with adjusting to your new environment if you move here (for school or other reasons) since if you’re ever lost, the highways can act as a point to re-orient yourself by. I know I’ve had to do it plenty of times in the past, and it can really save you from looking like an idiot if you excuse your lost-ness by just saying “Oh yeah mate, I was just tryna get on the highway. Saves so much time.”

Does this mean Raleigh has the best transportation network of any city? Hell no. Does this mean that Raleigh has the best highway system? Not even close. But it’s still super nice, especially for students. You’ll run into the problems any urban place has like rush hour or crash delays, but this is mitigated by the fact you’ll be using it for our second pro: Everything happens in Raleigh. 

Well, not EVERYTHING everything but as I’ve ranted about before; there’s plenty to do and see in the city of Raleigh (even if you’re a student). 

For instance, according to raleighnc.gov, Raleigh is home to over 200 public parks. Not a fan of parks? Into more electronic entertainment? Then visit our very own “Arcade of Thrones” downtown and get your game on with your fellow nerds

Boring stuff like restaurants and night clubs aside, Raleigh is home to literally thousands of businesses and social clubs for you to partake in. Farmers markets, gun and knife shows, fishin’ holes and public church barbecues are available for that classic southern charm; but don’t forget to make use of our barcades, art festivals, concerts, comedy clubs and sport centers. 

The only reason why I’m not going into more detail about examples like First Friday, the downtown cultural festivals, PNC arena or other more specific events is because I want to write about them in-depth in the future.  

Of course, students having things to do and places to go is only part of the college experience. If you’re gonna come to Raleigh for college, the best pro I could possibly mention is the support network.  

Not to say that we’re exactly all one big happy family here, but in Raleigh you get that nice blend of metropolitan city life with your rural state. Orgs like the LGBT Center, Goodwill, Raleigh Missions, and more support locals in need constantly and provide for the many different groups around here.

Libraries and civic centers share the same city as mosques and churches which neighbor women's shelters and LGBT+ advocacy groups. If you’re a republican or democrat, that’s fine but be prepared to meet the other members of the political spectrum since groups like the Democratic-Socialists of America (DSA) are active downtown as well.

If you need help or want to help others, there’s a 98% chance that you’ll find someone or something out there that meets your needs. Join a community through Facebook or Nextdoor and you’ll see every diaper drive, garage sale, and community recommendation pop up whenever one is needed.

Of course, this brings us to our first con. Raleigh may be home to some of the nicest people I’ve ever met but it doesn’t mean you won’t run into some problem people sooner or later.  

There’s of course the typical collegiate douchebags, the upper-middle class young scions of no import who fumble through life with no regard for others because mommy and daddy will perpetually care for them, but being a red state you’ll also run into the more colorful republicans.

Every year there’s an anime convention called “Animazement” downtown and every year there’s a small herd of fundamentalist Christians warning all the otaku who’ll listen that they’re going to hell. Drive around town long enough and you’ll find a few different businesses that have made their opinions on things like masks and social distancing clear, not to mention there’s no shortage of QAnoners and alt-right sympathists. 

Of course, you shouldn’t let others dictate the quality of your life or the area you live in but you should be aware that these people exist. Raleigh is more liberal than other parts of North Carolina for sure but it’s not the leftist paradise those other parts would say it is.

Other than the coinflip that is neighbors, Raleigh is kind of a pricy place to live. The cost of living is on average higher than other cities in the US, cheaper still than New York of Californian cities, but pricey nonetheless.

Rent in Raleigh for a one bedroom apartment is on average $975 according to bestplaces.net and can go as high as $1200 depending on the complex and location. 

That, with a federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour, means you’ll need 

>Multiple jobs >Multiple roommates >A good paying job

or any combination of the two to be able to afford rent, utilities, and food beyond cup ramen. There’s housing programs like Section 8 and military housing initiatives to help, but for students you’re looking at some pretty steep housing costs for anywhere that’s not student dorms. 

You can get a good job that pays decent, of course, nothing’s impossible. However, finding one that won’t require roommates would demand full time hours (which might be difficult to make on student scheduling) or a degree (which you’re probably at college to get). Most living spaces require you make at least 3x the advertised rent to even be considered as well, which may limit students to seedier student living complexes like University Village or The Proper (Formerly Vie, formerly wolf creek).

Finally, if you move to Raleigh for college be prepared to drive. A lot.

As I mentioned earlier, the beltline is a god send for students and people looking to explore; but it’s also practically mandatory for moving around Raleigh. Public transit in Raleigh isn’t non-existent but it’s pretty damn close.  

Live between 10-15 minutes from your desired destination? Taking the bus is gonna be anywhere from half an hour to a full hour, and that’s if you even live near a bus route. If you’re like myself and habitually on the edge of Raleigh, be prepared to drive for a bit before you even see a GoRaleigh bus let alone a stop. 

The buses do at least run pretty late (Closing normally around 11PM), but the lack of public transit lines and bike-able roads means that you’ll be adding to the urban congestion more likely than not.

Okay with driving? Hope you’re okay with paying another arm and a leg, because at most schools down here tuition doesn’t cover your parking pass. 

NC State prices range from $105 to over $400 depending on your credit hours and where you’re staying at. Other schools like William Peace only charge a flat $130 for their parking decal, but most of the schools require you throw them an extra Apple Pencil or two for the privilege of being able to park your own vehicle close to the actual campus.

There are workarounds, like parking off-campus nearby, but those carry risks and penalties that can add up over time. The audacity these schools have to take thousands in tuition and then demand that you pay and additional fee to just use the parking lot.

Hopefully, though, regardless of my thoughts if you live in Raleigh or North Carolina in general and you’re considering attending one of the fine establishments here; I’ve provided you some food for thought. 

College can be a scary experience for many, and the area around it can really make or break your experiences. We don’t have the biggest party schools or the most glamorous cityscape; but if I had to go through the collegiate system again I honestly couldn’t imagine doing it anywhere else.

Next time I’ll be talking about some alternatives to College though, so stay tuned for that.  

Special shout out to the DSA of Raleigh as well. They didn’t help write any of this or communicate with me during the production of this article, but they’ve been doing some amazing work downtown with the homeless during the pandemic.  They are some of the most amazingly hard working individuals who care immensely for the community and you can check them out on dsanc.org.

#Raleigh #NC #North Carolina #Northcarolina #College #Colleges #pros #cons #downtown #downtown Raleigh #photography #urban #rural #urban photography #city #cityscape #nature #school choice #southern #southern state #NCSU #WPU #Wolfpack #GoWolfpack #William Peace #William Peace University #North Carolina State University #NC State University #tagwhore #DSA

[kneelbeforeclefairy]

Me vs my father in the enjolras is javert's son Les Mis AU that is my life

So. Me. 28. THIS close to her master's degree. Liberal. Socialist. Mixed kid. New Yorker. Just got home from living on her own in Greece. Been living away from parents for seven years. Queer. ADHD . Rsd. Imposter syndrome. Bad at rejection. Torn between two parents who are STILL fighting for me.

Living with Father because who picked the year of the coronavirus to give up her life .62. Barely completed high school. Said Regan was the best president he lived through. Trump voter. New Yorican who doesn't understand the world doesn't see him as white. Conservative who moved south and got worse. Blue lives matter dude. Not Batman.

Will not STOP. Provoking me.

It started with him mentioning you can't get aunt Jemima syrup any more because....you know . Me saying yes you can. The brand firs of all hasn't rebranded itself yet. It currently is still aunt Jemima and the packaging hasn't changed, still widely available. It's just going to rename itself. Get told no it's not "you can't do that any more." interrupted. Get to squeak out the bit about its gonna be the same recipe just called something else. Auntie J maybe. I think that's a good syrup name. He laughs and says it's gonna be BLM syrup.

(and you know what I find that trivializing but if that's what they wanted to name it who cares.)

(more context. His grandfather was black. He told me about being told as a kid by his father that little brown boys just say yes sir to the police. He got The Talk)

And then it goes to Porgy and Bess. Porgy and Bess is on so we watch it. All of us enjoy it thoroughly. He says "isn't this racist? What's the difference between this and aunt Jemima?"

Me.....

I have to get this information put as fast as possible . He's not really listening. He doesn't care. He's not asking . He doesn't find them both genuinely racist. He just....seems to want to catch me out. I try to explain. Porgy and Bess DOES Have some problems. But it was written in 1935 and was one of those Fair For It's Day things. Launched the careers of a lot of black classical singers. Still does. Some charecters might be a little sterotypical (Sportin Life did not age well) but in the hands of a good production and a good actor depth can be found. Rewrites have been made.

But I don't get to SAY any of these things. I try. I, well spoken, bordering on eloquent, stumble through a few poorly thought out points about interpretation and employment and he didn't see the difference between a classical singers playing Bess at the met and being well payed singing beautiful music and even if the roll is somewhat sterotypical and a product of it's times, through a good actress can become a wonderful three dimensional role, or at least no less than any other opera heroine and a poor black woman playing a completely one dimensional mammy sterotypes to sell syrup to enrich white people while playing off their own created nostalgia for oppression of the black race cause I WASNT PREPARED FOR FUCKING WAR OVER PORGY AND BESS. He just asked the questions. I'm on the defense. I've never even SEEN it before. I'm not ready to defend it. I didn't know I was going to have to. Hell, I'm not sure if it IS racist or problematic yet, we're 15 minutes it. He seems to know why I'm watching it at all if I'm so sensitive that a syrup name must trigger me.

He's not concerned it IS racist. Just seems to want to catch me in inconsistancies. Why do you watch this but you want the syrup renamed

(I didn't bring up the syrup. We were talking about the difference between brands in the north and south. He just brought up the fucking syrup and said it wasn't there any more. By the way. It is. I saw it in the fucking Kroger. And I literally do not care about the name of syrup. it's largely symbolic sure but if they want to rename themselves because yeah totally cringe history that's their business. Fine. It literally does not affect me. The recipe is there I'm just gonna call it aunt j or whatever)

And then this morning when I showed him a picture of the Alexander the Great statue o took on Thessaloniki

(masters degree in macedonian history/archeology, me)

He says

He SAYS

"I'm surprised they haven't taken that down."

In this stupid sing song way.

(like obviously this statue thing is an American thing with some England thrown in. I don't know much about Greek politics but I'm PRETTY FUCKING SURE they weren't invovled in the American transatlantic slave trade or the age of exploration my dude)

But he says "it's imperialism isn't it?'

Me "well yes but..."

"he conquered the world didn't he? Did he or did he not conquer the world. You think he did that by being nice to people?"

"well you'd be surprised how much alliance building and diplomacy was used but yes but--"

"so how's it different? Did he conquer the world? Did he own slaves?"

"actually probably not as macedonia wasn't really a slave society and the Persians DEFINITELY didn't have slaves"

"well I just think it's the same"

(frustrated. Can't show emotion or he wins. Already cracked a few days ago when he was talking about a cop iniured by "the mob" and COULDN'T because how many of my people were injured by them? And had to tell him to stop. Told he wouldn't talk politics. Does the above count)

Me. Lightly. "You're unable to grasp nuance. And you're just trying to provoke me"

Something happens. Subject changed. Did I win? Did I lose? We're always battling.

Thing is.

Yes.

There is an INCREDIBLY subtle and nuanced discussion to be had about imperialism in general and its effects and how even ancient imperialism effects us to this day. And how we view warfare and conquest in general and the stories we tell. I would argue Alexander was great because of his kindness, the cultural exchange he sparked, his clever tactics , his mastery of grand strategy, his diplomacy, his ability to use image, and only last his undefeatedness in battle. But I wasnt the one who called him Great, to whoever that was it was about the war. There is A LOT about Alexander and his affect on Persia,which, while we shouldn't layer modern politics over it (especially race based one. Yes Alexander was Caucasian but WHITENESS didn't exist then and Persia was the sophisticated empire , Greece was tiny and insignificant. It's just that Greece wrote the story and got to paint them as barbaians but it has nothing to do with race and they REALLY REALLY WEREN'T and even the Greeks knew that) did destroy an empire and affects the region to this day. Persian perceptions of Alexander are obviously not as kind, and equally important.

So yes there is a discussion to be had about that. And why we venerate a man who did kill thousands and why, I would argue, he still is a very good person who, despite his faults, does deserve that statue.

But we weren't having that

We were playing gotcha.

Cause even if he Couldn't grasp the difference between Alexander the Great, who yeah, totally did sell thebans into slavery in a system that attributed slavery to bad luck and if he had lost would have expected the same treatment to anyone who was not killed,and Confederate generals who thought and entire race was inferior due to their birth, fought for their continued enslavement, committed treason to the country he loves SO much, and LOST, and were memorialized in stupid statues by a bunch of sore loser white supremacists in an attempt to rewrite history to turn what could have been and should have been an Embarrassing chapter in a regions history that should have been healed from into the DEFINING THING about that area despite lasting onl five years and still the symbol of pain and murder to a large percentage of our population within VERY CLOSE TO LIVING MEMORY that has affects that are still here in a very real way because *gestures vaguely at everything* and have caused riots TWICE in your lifetime because it hasn't changed has it and also YOU'RE NOT SOUTHERN and why do you care?

Then I'm not sure what to say.

I don't know what he wants. He wants me catch me out? Debate the liberal cause they're so stupid ? Vent frustration at the liberal because fox news tells you to hate them? His way of processing Something he doesn't understand? Men can't ask for directions? He wants me to argue him, some nerd version of beating the old man at basketball? He feels inferior to his kid so he's gotta put me in my place? A nerd version of not letting the kid beat you at basketball? Test me? Make me prove myself? Make me represent all liberals so he can win?

I don't know what he wants. But I'm SICK OF IT.

And I'm sick of being torn between the mother who is frightened and overbearing and the father who seems to want to always make me keep up.

And I cant

Deal

With

Conservatives

Any more!

#personal #it is polite to tag the crazy as personal #long post #fathers

[quakerjoe]

In the end, not even the Progressive Bernie Base showing up for Hillary in larger numbers than her own supporters did for Obama in 2008, could prevent the inevitable. A massively flawed candidate who failed to electrify the Democratic base and make the case to Rust Belt voters- why she is the better option than the Populist candidate spraying out anti-trade rhetoric.

Blame whatever you want. The blame rests squarely on all of us. But there is so many lessons to learn from the 2016 Primary and General Election. Populism and Progressive policy became the central topic. Healthcare is a right. The ultra-rich are KING in America, and they must be reigned in. Primary process should be more fair. Flowery platitudes aren’t enough to generate excitement for the poor to turn out, etc.

Literally ZERO of these lessons were learned. Even in the face of an ACTUAL Corona-virus pandemic, with over 30 million unemployed, more and more uninsured at the time of writing this- the Democratic party has done nearly nothing to fix the problems from 2016. Actually, in all my shock- they’ve made them worse. The Democratic party pulled every string it could. Bent over backwards to not only stop Bernie Sanders, but stifle Progressives and our policy agenda. All in an orchestration to crown their nominee just years after a 2016 lawsuit said the DNC can meddle how ever they like in their own “Democratic process”. All to push a man who did next to no campaigning in any states past South Carolina. A man who didn’t actually work for your vote, but instead- coasted on “Hope and Change” establishment nostalgia, for when times weren’t so chaotic.

So for pragmatism sake, let’s push all that aside for just one moment. We can debate all day about how “fair” Joe Biden’s path to the Democratic Nomination has been. But let’s view Biden on his own merits for his candidacy’s sake. What’s the incentive for Progressives to vote for Joe? Well- unless you’re sticking to the concept of the very first paragraph of this article, the answer is: There isn’t one.

If Hillary Clinton were a flawed candidate, Biden may just be the worst nominee in history. A long history of terrible behavior including coddling racists, racist behavior, repeated threats at slashing the safety net, warmongering for a devastating Iraq war that’s helped kill endless innocent civilians all based on a lie, the nomination of Justice Thomas and controversial treatment of Anita hill, the Obama administration’s failure to even pass a Public Option with a Super Majority government, while pushing a healthcare plan that was little more than barely a small step in the right direction.

Now- Biden stands as the presumptive Democratic Nominee, and with a sizable Progressive Bernie Base up for grabs, what has Joe Biden done to earn our vote?

Answer: Nothing. Well, at least nothing significant.

Three items come immediately to mind on what Joe Biden is doing to “reach left”.

1: Joe wants to lower the Medicare age to 60. By comparison, Hillary Clinton wanted to lower it to as low as 50.

2: Joe Biden wants to eliminate student debt for those making under $125K. By comparison, Bernie Sanders wanted to eliminate it universally.

3: Nebulously- Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders have created “working groups” on various policy issues focusing on education, criminal justice, climate change, immigration, the economy, and health care policy. As of yet, nothing has come of these “groups” on policy.

As the Primary was coming to a close, I as a Progressive- was completely open to Joe moving (not reaching) left on policy positions.

Overwhelmingly, if you ask Sanders supporters what they care about most, it’s Policy.

What will you do for the underprivileged working class people of America?

What will you do for my children and grand children facing a Climate Change future?

What will you do for your Mass Incarceration mess, ending the drug war, legalizing Marijuana, and freeing non-violent drug offenders?

What will you do for the upwards of 45K people who die each year because health care is not affordable?

The 67% of American bankruptcies being due to health care costs?

BUT. Sanders supporters also believe in principle. Consistency. History. Fighting for change. Decency. Human rights. We’re also majority young people (a group Joe Biden did not do well with). Perhaps these things could be talked out. But now there’s a bigger elephant in the room. One that establishment Democrats and Joe’s supporters are ignoring.

Joe Biden was credibly accused of rape.

Democrats spent months yelling about “Believing Women” during the Kavanaugh Confirmation hearings. Rightfully fighting for Christine Blasey Ford’s story to be heard- knowing it would be a fruitless task at the hands of a twisted Senate Republican majority. Now, establishment Democrats are making the media rounds with Biden campaign talking points with denials and every attempt to downplay Tara Reade as not a credible accuser, even as several corroborations of her story have surfaced, 1 of which was an archive video of who Tara Reade alleges is her mother discussing the issue with Larry King on CNN in 1993. Meanwhile, Joe Biden’s campaign has it’s surrogates and supporters on news networks shielding Biden. Nancy Pelosi downplays the accusations, Kirsten Gillibrand (who helped cancel Al Franken) is downplaying the accusations. Alyssa Milano, prominent #MeToo voice, who made a performative appearance at the Brett Kavanagh hearings, now wants to “change the rules” on the movement in favor of a sort of ‘Due Process’- a process that many perpetrators cancelled by #MeToo never got, in favor of protecting Joe Biden.

What this means to me is that Democrats think it’s perfectly fine to be selective on who and who doesn’t deserve to be heard and taken seriously, based on who’s on your team. As if it should be that easy to just shed your principles like Snake skin, hypocritically protecting one predator, while gunning for another that doesn’t fit with you politically.

In 2016, I was perfectly fine voting for the “lesser evil”. Now that the party has loudly stated that not only does my values, principles, and policy demands for the poor and sick of America, not matter- I should fall in line with a candidate that has helped endless innocent people die overseas with America’s imperial military reach, helped endless people die at home because they cant afford a doctor, said that he has “no empathy” for young people- the same young people that have to live and suffer under the conditions of Climate Change while he’s dead and gone, sexually assaulted and violated multiple women, said that nothing will fundamentally change for the same rich people who are now gaining BILLIONS under pandemic conditions while their workers get sicker, if they’re even employed at all.

Moderate establishment Democrats and voters tell me that Trump is the number one threat. That we need to “vote blue no matter who”. Just how “blue” is Joe biden? Just how dissimilar is Joe Biden and his supporters from Trump and his following? For all of the cries of the “angry Bernie Bros” online, I see countless accosting and abusive discourse examples from Biden supporters calling any dissenters “Russian Bots”, or “MAGA Hats”. Being told that I’m somehow a Trump voter by default, for not immediately supporting Biden. All this when all I’ve ever seen from “the Bernie Bros” is aggressively holding smear artists to facts and truth in a thick environment of misrepresentation of Bernie Sanders and his platform.

So- Why shouldn’t Progressives vote for Joe Biden?

This Democratic party doesn’t give a damn about you. Nor does it care about Progressive policy. The party and its supporters spend all this time, smearing Sanders and his base as “Not democrats”, angry “socialists who want free stuff”, “How are you gonna PAY for it?!” etc etc, all while claiming to support SOME form of our policy, and then dropping it the second it doesn’t feel politically advantageous. This party threw everything it could into stopping YOU. With tactics like voter suppression, using a silly app suspiciously funded and supported by shady actors in Iowa, taking WEEKS to give final results, running Super PACs against Bernie and our movement, fear-mongering about Bernie when he did win states, gas lighting the public on “elect-ability”, using a literal pandemic against Bernie to guilt him into dropping out while attempting to blame him for continued spread of COVID-19, while they sent voters to the polls and we didn’t.

And after zero policy concessions, zero good will, repeated demands we fall in line after more than a year of being slammed and disrespected, showing up for Hillary Clinton and then being blamed for her loss anyway, which is inevitable again if Joe loses? Are we just going to keep allowing that? Just how long do we have to hold our noses, voting for Moderate do-nothing lite Republicans who would sooner see you die, than provide you affordable and universal healthcare, because a Billionaire would stand to lose money. Even NOW, during a Pandemic this party has done next to NOTHING to secure the livelihoods of American citizens, as more and more die, get furloughed, and cant pay their bills. All while Trump and Republicans take credit for pitching more common sense plans (even though they want to send us all back to work/school to feed the machine).

This- is the “resistance” party? THIS is the best we can do? Performative rage against a fascist clown while propping up an accused rapist warmongering corporatist with cognitive decline and previous racist tendencies? THIS is what the party keeps telling us we better support or be shamed as somehow supporting the “bad guy”?

Listen, #NotMeUs- this will never stop. This party will NEVER stop using us as a prop for our ideas and passion, then throwing us under the bus when they think they no longer need us. They cannot continue to be allowed to drag us further to the right with guilt trips and shaming. They will NEVER take you seriously unto you take serious action. We’ve been preaching about “action” this whole campaign. Why should that “action” stop in the ballot box? Have some foresight for just a moment and envision how this plays out in future elections, unless you stand up and make them WORK for your vote.

I, for one will not vote for Joe Biden. But I wont shame you for your vote, no matter who it’s for. Why? Because the party did a terrible job at earning -your- vote. I’d maybe only criticize you if you don’t show up at all. There’s so many down-ballot candidate who need support. Even if you leave the President box unchecked, at least show up for the other races.

But consider: There are other options that have been stifled for way too long. Perhaps its time we give them a shot, no? Green Party is running Howie Hawkins and a platform that is much closer to our principles that Biden would ever try for. Justin Amash just jumped into the race if you’re a little more on the Libertarian side. Jesse Ventura is also discovering running on the Green ticket as well. Just imagine Jesse ‘The Body’ Ventura on the debate stage with Donald Trump? Popcorn for DAYS.

In order for us to be taken seriously, we must prove that we’re capable of holding the party accountable. Not voting for them is the ultimate accountability, and you get to keep your principles intact.

Now- to the ultimate argument you’d inevitably get: “You would be helping Donald Trump secure 4 more years”.

My response? You don’t have to bare the blame for that. You wont be at fault for Joe Biden losing any more than those who chose not to vote at all. It’s on the party to earn these votes. That’s how elections work. If you hate the candidate and don’t feel good about them as a person, why is it your responsibility to put them in office? To me- one of the most personal things a person has, is their vote. Not their dollars, or their Tweets. It’s checking a box for the person YOU chose to represent you. If that person doesn’t believe in hardly anything you personally believe in- why is it that they deserve your vote, again? How is it that they’re are somehow entitled to that vote? They don’t, and they aren’t. I’m looking at you too, Republicans.

In closing…

Progressives, I’m sorry to break it to you but- Medicare For All is not on the ballot. Taxing the rich is not on the ballot. Ending corruption and crooked politicians is not on the ballot.

But- ending a terrible two-party system IS on the ballot. Taking your personal vote back, IS on the ballot. In my opinion- the only wasted vote, is the one you were demanded in giving up to what you don’t believe in.

-LZ

https://medium.com/@legacyzero/why-sanders-supporters-should-not-vote-for-joe-biden-a9146bee189b

[robert-c]

The Immigration Issue

What disturbs me most about this “debate”, apart from the complete ignoring of the facts, is the clearly racist overtones of the discussions. So let’s start with some of the facts. Neither I, nor anyone I know of in Congress, supports a completely “open border” policy. That sort of claim is used only to inflame the fears of people. The constant claims (without real support in fact) that the surge in asylum seekers and other immigrants are largely composed of violent criminals would have no traction were it not exploiting racist fears of non-white people.

The inhumane separation of families meant to discourage people from crossing was finally overturned, but the legacy of this cruel practice is still with us, and measures like this do nothing to solve the underlying problem. The only kind of “wall” that might be effective is one like the Soviet Union built in East Germany and along other parts of their borders. In addition to a tall concrete barrier, there was a wide open field in which anyone entering was shot. There were, at its peak, about 47,000 border guards along the east German border with the west. That border was approximately 866 miles long. The US border with Mexico is about 1,954 miles and proportionally that would require, in addition to walls, watchtowers, and cleared shooting fields (typically wider than a football field long) approximately106,000 troops to “defend”. Is this really the country we want to be? And still some people managed to get past that East German border.

In an attempt to make their restrictive immigration policies seem reasonable some have suggested that there should be a skills based assessment of applicants that could be compared against our economic needs. This sounds reasonable until you realize that the same people putting this idea forward are the ones always opposing the creation of more government bureaucracy, always telling us the government can’t possibly respond quickly enough to the needs of American businesses. It isn’t a serious or reasonable solution, it is only meant to look like one.

But even if the government could accurately and efficiently update what skills we were short of, no one can completely predict the needs of tomorrow. The power of all immigrants has always been their imagination to create businesses and services we didn’t have before and therefore didn’t know we wanted or needed. From something as simple as there would have been no “need” for pizza cooks before the first pizza was sold in the US to more esoteric skills. Who would have needed physicists, other scientists and engineers, let alone Jewish ones, before the Second World War? But several very famous ones who immigrated here were responsible for getting us the atomic bomb that led to the end of WWII.

But this skills inventory, even if honestly and efficiently conducted and somehow anticipatory of future needs, only applies to economic immigrants, those coming here for better economic prospects. Dishonestly applied it maintains only the highest skilled jobs that we’re short of, and therefor effectively discriminates against any and all who do not have technical degrees.

Now let’s talk about the real problem. There is a real immigration crisis. We are getting more requests for asylum than before and they are coming from families not lone individuals as it used to be. One of the coldest and most ignorant comments I have ever heard about this is “they should fix what is wrong in their own country instead of trying to come here.” When I heard this I was dumbfounded. I honestly couldn’t believe someone could say such a thing. Duh!? Don’t you think they would have if they could? Who leaves all they know, everyone they know, and most of what they owned to go to someplace where they need to learn a new language, a new culture and find a way to survive? Would these so called American “patriots” have said the same thing to Jews fleeing Hitler’s Germany? (Sadly, I think some would have.)

But let’s return to the issue that there truly is an increase in the numbers of people who want asylum in our country (despite knowing that they will likely enter at the absolute bottom rung of the societal ladder). They are fleeing political persecution by the authoritarian gangs, or the drug gangs, that run their countries. In a sense, they are having to flee BECAUSE they tried to “fix” their country. “Not our problem” say some of my conservative friends.

Well, not so fast. Most, if not all, of those Latin American de facto dictatorships were installed with and/or are propped up by, our support. You see, for well over a century our overriding interests in Latin America have been that American businesses can continue to exploit their resources under terms very favorable to us, and related to this that they do not support Cuba or communists in general. Of course like ‘good businessmen’ we share some of the exorbitant profits with a few powerful locals, to ensure our continued arrangements. Then there are the drug cartels – created entirely from our own demand for drugs and our (again) failed policy of prohibition.

Last time we tried this simplistic policy of prohibition (for alcohol) it created a nationwide crime syndicate, which we called the Mafia. Now we have created an international set of crime syndicates. Way to learn from past mistakes! So these people aren’t just fleeing terrible regimes in their homelands, they are fleeing the very thugs we have directly or indirectly empowered in their homelands.

Now how do you feel about our responsibilities toward these asylum seekers?

If we truly want to solve this immigration issue, we need to do something about the regimes we have helped put in power or maintain in power. Once again, it is an issue of either helping American businesses get what they want, or helping the US get what is best for the country as a whole. For too long we’ve confused those two as the same thing. It’s time we quit imagining that the interests of a handful of American businesses is synonymous with the interests of the country as a whole.

BTW if anyone is interested in why communist and socialist ideologies seem so popular in Latin America they only need to look into how American style “capitalism” has affected the people.

There is a fundamental philosophical contradiction in this current immigration stance. We cannot at the same time be the model for the world and not expect others to want to come here for what we’ve created. We cannot support oppressive regimes overseas because that does our domestic businesses (and campaign contributors) good, while at the same time not seeing some sort of reaction. Our Congress and President must realize that despite the fact that most of the people in the world do not vote for them, they are still a sort of constituency – that is what it means to be a “Super Power”. And you can’t just “walk away” from that and return to some romanticized version of isolationist America. Our essential trade with the rest of the world alone would prevent such a naïve move.

There was a time, presumably when some thought America was “great”, that problems overseas were things we fixed for them, because we were arrogant enough to imagine that we had all the answers. Well, here at last, we actually do have some answers because we are the origin of the problem. But do we try to fix what we have broken? No, the best our “genius” leaders can come up with is a doomed to fail strategy of locking the doors and pretending that they are impenetrable.

Now the other form of immigration is economic. The people who want to come here for a better life, and are not seeking asylum. If you really want to crack down on the illegal version of this there is a much more effective way than simply building walls, or running some skills databank. Start criminally prosecuting the businesses who hire them. Checks on applicants’ legal status theoretically already exist, but because businesses lobbied the government successfully they have numerous ways of avoiding responsibility. The company is essentially obligated only to collect some information on a form, not to verify it in any material way. And these loose requirements only apply to employees, not to “independent contractors” which is a whole other way companies can dodge providing benefits and other worker protections.

Don’t doubt for a moment that American businesses knowingly hire illegals. Many don’t bother to know because they want deniability. Think of the advantages to the company. Here is a workforce likely willing to work for less than the prevailing wage, unable to complain about unsafe, or illegal working conditions, let alone organize a union. It’s the closest thing to the reintroduction of slavery you can get.

Solutions can be found, but not if we keep demonizing and slandering immigrants and shielding businesses who benefit from this sort of immigration. Let’s keep this in mind – for those who believe money is a motivator, the penalty for a business must be greater than the profit to change its behavior. Likewise, no matter what rationale they use to complain about these solutions, rest assured the real reason is that they make more money the way things are now. While making a profit isn’t (and shouldn’t be) illegal by itself, some ways of doing so certainly are, and should be. For too long we’ve heard the argument that profit is a good thing, without reservation or exception. Profit, like most things in the world, is neither good nor bad, or perhaps more accurately both good and bad, depending on how it is obtained and used. Once again, we are confronted with the desire to have a simplistic answer for all of the problems, an absolute that will require no further thought.

And now it’s time to be really honest and confront the ugliest part of ourselves and ask (and try to answer honestly) if anyone would be this upset if it were Canadians, or Europeans who were the primary source of immigrants. The slandering of the immigrants and the draconian solutions proposed tell us all we should need to know about the people supporting these ideas. They may smile, wave the flag, and speak in reverent tones about the principles of America, but they have forgotten what has always been our greatest strength and most unique feature. They have forgotten that at one time in the past, their ancestors were the immigrants. Unless you are fully Native American, at least some of your ancestors came here either as colonists or as immigrants, neither with an indisputable right to be here. Virtually every prejudiced claim leveled at today’s immigrants (criminal, dishonest, lazy, irresponsible, etc.) were applied in the past to the Irish, the Italians, the Jews, the Catholics, and just about every other religious or ethnic group. And yet, somehow, the republic survived the arrival of these people. In fact, most of them now constitute what many would consider the “white traditional” Americans.

There is no doubt that we have serious problems with our often contradictory immigration laws and policies. But we are never going to find a realistic and lasting solution as long as we keep entertaining bigoted racial stereotypes, and looking for simplistic answers.

Let’s start with some facts we should all be able to agree to because they are independently verifiable.

There are more requests from families for asylum,

Requiring that they not travel through another country to get here only means that we allow only the richest of these asylum seekers to make their request,

The regimes that these asylum seekers are fleeing are dependent in many ways on the US and US businesses,

There are virtually no significant penalties on businesses for hiring (or using as contractors) illegal economic immigrants,

There is not a clear and unambiguous path to immigration and citizenship in our current laws, and

Children of illegal immigrants, who have only known this country, are no more responsible for their parents’ actions than the child of a rape that anti-abortion forces are so fond of using as an excuse to not allow a rape exception to their anti-abortion stance.

With these facts alone, we should be able to come to some sort of reasonable policy. It will require letting go of racial and ethnic prejudices as well as the idea that we are being fair by simply ignoring what is happening in their home countries. It is not about a completely open border where any number of people for any reason can enter, but it is also not about limiting immigrants to those who are similar to the people currently running the country.

My call is to heed our better angels, we are better than this fearful clinging to what is familiar and common in our experience. We are better as a people and a nation than this angry response to anyone who is different. We have always been stronger and better by expanding our experiences; by adding more stories to what it means to be an American.

#immigration #immigrants