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#North: I have pictures of you at the salon
winterwrites23 · 2 years
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Since we got some head cannons about Ireland and Wales. Can we get some hc's about England and Scotland?
Why of course! I got a few of headcanons for these two idiots. I’ll go in general, can’t think of a specific topic lol
Basically, they act like an old married couple but brother editions. They argue over the littlest of things and they always need to have the upper hand over the other. However, despite all the insults and vicious jabs, they care for each other... just in their own weird way. And when they need to work together, they're eerily effective and in synch. Can hold a whole conversation just by one look.
England:
As a hobby, England does flower arrangement and he’s quite good at it. He got lots of practice with his garden and will flaunt his skill whenever he hosts a dinner. He would even help in preparing the decoration for diplomatic meetings or other governmental events. His brothers often tease him he would make a great wedding planner (though little did they know he did lend a hand a few times to his human coworkers in the Parliament for their weddings)
Despite having great survival skills from having a rough childhood mostly spent in the woods/forests, England shamelessly love going ‘glamping’. The comfort of knowing you have shelter, warmth and food for a few nights lift a weight off his shoulders. There’s no need to be worried about dangers, though he knows he can deal with it if it comes to, but now, he’s just here to relax and enjoy (which is a rare thing for this workaholic idiot). 
England claims to be a gentleman in public (and he is, most of the time), but he will go absolutely feral during the Nation 6 championship, as well as the rest of his brothers (and the others). They may be living in peace in modern times, but whenever rugby is involved, they’re one hair away from starting a war between them. The Parliament is well aware of this, so for the next few weeks, they keep England from having meetings with the winner nation as a precaution. 
Scotland: 
He’s the kind of guy who uses a 13 in 1 shampoo, but somehow, against all odds, he has the softest hair known to mankind. It’s hard to know at first because Scotland rarely let someone touch his hair, but when someone does, they’re mesmerized by it. France always laments of the waste potential of having such fine hair because Scotland puts no efforts in styling it.
When he has time outside his nation duties and part-time job as a paramedic, he works as a rock-climbing instructor. Mainly because he loves rock climbing in general, but also because he finds it hilarious to watch the newbies flail around in the air. It fills his schadenfreude heart, but he balances it out by giving well thought insights and making sure they’re always safe. 
Because he loves going on day long hikes in the Highlands at least once a week, Scotland often gets sore feet. So, once a month, he gets a foot massage (and full on face mask treatment as a treat because why the hell not?) at the local salon. It was strange at first, seeing a six-foot-or-so tall man with broad shoulders and a resting bitch face asking for a foot massage. But the regulars (mostly old ladies) were all charmed by his dry humour and take no shit attitude. So Scotland knows all the local gossip and secrets of everyone in town (who cheated on who, the new promotion by bribe, the neighbour’s dog that was buried in someone else’s backyard, you name it). He may claim he doesn’t like gossip, but the group of old ladies eagerly spilling the tea on the latest scandal and him not stopping them at any moment says otherwise.
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Never Have I Ever (Part 4) - Hangman
Pairing: Hangman / Civilian Contractor! Reader (Callsign: Dove)
Length: 3.9k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only
Warnings: Female Reader with a Callsign and Family, but no Physical Description or Name; Not Necessarily Healthy Decisions/Coping Mechanisms; Slow Burn; Coworkers to Friends to Lovers; Oblivious Idiots; Excessive Pining; Jealousy; Adult Situations
Summary: Phoenix takes Dove out for a girls' day. Jake proceeds to lose his shit.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Master List
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“You’re not doing anything with Dove today?” Coyote asked Jake as they jogged their normal route. 
“No, she said that Phoenix was taking her out.” 
“What’re they doing?” 
“I don’t know. Dove didn’t say,” Jake stated, shrugging his shoulders. 
~~~~~
# 44 - Gotten a Pedicure
“So, what are we doing next?” Dove asked Phoenix.
They sat side by side at a nail salon, getting a pedicure together. And Dove, even though salons usually gave her anxiety, was enjoying herself. It helped to have Phoenix with her. 
“I thought we’d start small and work our way up,” Phoenix replied, turning to Dove. 
“Like what?”
“We’ll just have a girls day. Do stuff that you wouldn’t do if Hangman was with you,” Phoenix stated, causing Dove to nod. “Maybe stuff that you’ve wanted to do for a while, but just never got around to doing.” 
“I can think of a few things.” 
~~~~~
# 45 - Bought Fishnet Stockings
“I don’t know what I’ll wear these with,” Dove admitted as she picked out a pair of fishnet stockings from the rack. “But I’ve always wanted a pair.” 
“And that’s why we’re doing this,” Phoenix stated, steering Dove towards the cashier. 
~~~~~
# 46 - Gone Wedding Dress Shopping 
“Nat, I feel bad,” Dove whispered to Phoenix as they looked through the racks of dresses. “There’s actual brides here.” 
“So what? Just pick some dresses. You’re not hurting anyone.”
As Dove continued to browse through the dresses, a consultant approached them. She greeted them kindly and Dove tried to not sweat when she was confronted with the fact that she was not engaged and she was here with a fake engagement ring and a made up fiance. 
“So, you’re the bride to be?” the consultant asked Dove, who smiled sheepishly.
“Yes, I am.” 
“When’s your wedding?”
“Next summer,” Dove stated noncommittally. 
“Oh, so you have time. Tell me what you’re looking for.” 
Dove listed off some details that she had considered for her actual wedding dress. With those details in mind, the consultant led Dove and Phoenix around the store, picking out some dresses and asking Dove about her fake wedding. Phoenix was calm beside her but Dove was not similarly relaxed. 
“So, tell me about your groom,” the consultant stated, causing Dove to sweat some more. “Do you have any pictures of the two of you?” 
“Uh, yeah, of course, I do,” Dove laughed nervously. 
Shooting Phoenix a look, Dove pulled out her phone. The photo of her and Jake from when they were stuck up on the ferris wheel together the night before popped up first and Dove showed it to the consultant to get it over with. 
“Oh, you two are adorable together.” 
“Thank you.” 
“What’s his name?”
“Jake,” Dove answered honestly. Because it was Jake in the photo.
“And how’d you two meet?” 
“We work together.” 
“And how long have you been together for?” 
“Eight months,” Dove lied easily. 
Dove had been at her position at NAS North Island for eight months. It had been eight months since she had been assigned to the Dagger Squad. 
“I know it seems rushed, but—” Dove started to over-explain. 
“—When you know, you know,” the consultant assured Dove, smiling kindly. She lifted up the wedding dresses that they had already picked out. “I’ll go put these in a dressing room. Come back after you’ve done your last look through.” 
“Thank you.” 
The consultant walked away, leaving Dove and Phoenix alone for a moment. Dove could feel Phoenix’s gaze on her, but didn’t meet her stare. 
“Freudian slip?” Phoenix suggested to Dove. 
“Shut up.” 
~~~~~
# 47 - Gone into a Lingerie Store
“I already hate this and we’re only in the parking lot,” Dove sighed, staring up at the store.
“Why?”
“Because the women who work in these stores are the most judgmental, aggressive, and condescending salespeople on the planet,” Dove huffed, turning to Phoenix with an annoyed expression. “Why do you think I stay away from these places?”
“If they act that way, we’re going to tell them to mind their business. Now, come on.” 
Dove sighed, but got out of the car anyway. She followed Phoenix into the store and was relieved to find that it was not overrun with judgy salespeople. Then again it was midday on a weekday and there appeared to only be two salespeople in the entire store. 
“You’ll be fine,” Phoenix repeated, before dragging Dove deeper into the store.
~~~~~
Jake sat around with the other Daggers—minus Phoenix—for a lazy afternoon, floating around ideas for that night. Jake, bored with the conversation already, pulled out his phone and looked at Dove’s list for any updates. 
Pedicure . . . fishnets . . . wedding dress . . . lingerie?
Quickly setting his phone back down, Jake turned back to the conversation, trying and failing at looking casual. And to not let his mind wander too far. 
~~~~~
# 48 - Bought Lingerie
“Buy for yourself, not for anyone else. Buy something that makes you feel good.” 
“I’m just looking for something that I can actually get into at this point,” Dove replied, grimacing as she picked up another set. “I mean, what is the point of all of these ribbons? I feel like I’m going to trip and slam my head into the wall trying to get into this thing.” 
“Just find something that works for you. Don’t worry about all of this extra crap.”
Dove looked through what felt like half a store’s worth of options before she settled on a simpler set. Nothing too crazy, but the lace pattern was appealing and it was surprisingly soft. And the look of the bra alone made her feel confident about herself. 
If only she had something or someone to wear it for.
~~~~~
# 49  - Gone to an Adult Shop
“Come on, it’s no big deal,” Phoenix stated, pulling Dove into the store. “You already bought lingerie. This is just another step in that process.” 
Dove winced when she saw some of the items that were up on the wall. She turned back to Phoenix, practically clutching her metaphorical pearls.
“Where the hell is that supposed to go?” Dove glanced down at her pelvis before turning back to Phoenix with a slightly terrified expression. “I don’t have space for that! No one has space for that. Where the hell are your organs supposed to go?” 
“We’re not going for anything crazy,” Phoenix stated reassuringly. “Just trying to introduce you to some stuff to, uh, help you out a little.” 
~~~~~
# 50 - Bought an Adult Toy
“This one has plenty of different settings, so you can play around with it and see what works for you and what doesn’t,” the attendant explained, causing Dove to nod. “Everyone is different, so there’s no shame in finding what works for you.” 
“Thank you.” 
“See that wasn’t so bad,” Phoenix stated, walking with Dove after she picked up a box.  
“No, it actually wasn’t.” 
Dove was about to turn for the register when she caught sight of some handcuffs. The dainty, fluffy pink fur didn’t spark any interest in her. But when she found a more industrial pair, Dove couldn’t help but pick up a pair to inspect. She completely missed the look on Phoenix’s face at her choice. 
“Well, I guess it’s on sale,” Dove reasoned to herself. 
After a few more moments of quiet deliberation, Dove shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the counter with the handcuffs in hand. Phoenix stood there for a moment, still shocked at Dove’s choice. 
“It’s always the quiet ones.” 
After Dove paid for her items, they made their way back out to the car. Looking down at what she had already purchased that day, Dove quietly had a discussion with herself before turning back to Phoenix. 
“I have an idea. For what to do next.” 
“Of course. What is it?”
~~~~~
# 51 - Gotten a Tattoo
Phoenix pulled her phone out as Dove laid on her side, talking casually with the tattoo artist. When she saw that Jake was calling her, Phoenix excused herself from Dove’s side. Walking out to the parking lot, Phoenix answered the call.
“Yes?” 
“What the hell are you doing, Trace!?” 
“Start over, Bagman,” Phoenix warned him. 
“You’re making her get a tattoo?” Jake rephrased, though the tension was clear in his tone.
“I didn’t make her get a tattoo. This was her idea.” 
“You think that I believe you?” 
“I don’t care what you believe. It’s the truth. She said that she’s floated the idea of getting one for a while and she decided to finally do it.” 
“And you let her?” 
“She is an adult. She can make her own choices about her own body. And no one has the right to tell her that she can’t,” Phoenix warned him. “Including you, Bagman.” 
“What if she regrets it?” 
“She can get it lasered off. And we all know that Dove doesn’t do anything without going through the consequences a thousand times.” Glancing back at the tattoo parlor, Phoenix added, “And when she tells you about it—and this goes for all of you idiots—you’re going to tell her that it’s great. Got it?” 
Dove stepped out into the light as Phoenix wrapped up her phone call. Phoenix spotted her and hung up the phone without so much as a goodbye.
“How do you feel?” 
“It stings,” Dove admitted honestly, pulling her shorts down a little to show Phoenix the bandage, “but I feel . . . I don’t know how to describe it. Just . . . free.” 
“You are,” Phoenix stated, smiling proudly. “You’re in charge of your life. No one else.” 
“Yeah, I am,” Dove agreed, nodding with a wide smile. 
~~~~~
# 52 - Sang Karaoke in Front of Strangers
“And girls! They wanna have fu-un! Oh, girls just wanna have—that’s all the really wa-ah-an-ah-an-ah-ant! Some fu-uh-uh-uh-un! When the working day is done, oh girls, they wanna have fun!” 
Phoenix and Dove shared a laugh as the song finished up. The bar where they were standing was pretty much empty, but the one bartender on duty clapped for them. Dove laughed and waved to them as she hopped off the small stage.
~~~~~
# 53 - Sunbathed Topless
“I need to get softer beach towels,” Dove commented, causing Phoenix to pick her head up and look over at her. 
“Are you planning on doing this more often?” 
The two of them were out in Penny’s backyard to sunbathe in the afternoon. Dove shrugged her shoulders as she laid on her stomach, calm and relaxed. 
“Maybe. If I find safe spots to do it.” 
~~~~~
# 54 - Dyed Your Hair
Putting a trash bag over Dove’s torso just in case, Phoenix started lightly spraying the dye onto her hair. Dove closed her eyes and just let Phoenix work, and missed Phoenix’s concerned look as she finished up the spray. 
“Alright, how does that look? I think I’ll open the window.” 
Dove stood up from the tub and walked over to the mirror to stare at her new reflection and instantly grimaced. The red hair color was fairly bright. It wasn’t quite a fire engine red, nor was it orange, it was some other odd reddish color that Dove was going to immediately wash out of her hair. 
“Well, that’s off the list. Forever.” 
~~~~~
# 55 - Drank Pickle Juice
“Do you normally do this?” Dove asked Phoenix, sitting at her kitchen table with an old towel wrapped around her freshly washed hair. 
The spray on hair dye had come out easily, but she was going to have to scrub her shower later. Phoenix placed a glass in front of her and Dove picked it up to inspect it. Taking a small sip, Dove wrinkled her nose and slowly set it back down. 
“I think I’ve had enough of the food challenges,” Dove admitted, slowly opening her eyes. 
“You’ll have to tell everyone else that. They want to go to a new bar tonight,” Phoenix stated, showing Dove her texts with Bob. 
“A cowboy bar?” Dove read, looking up at Phoenix. “They finally let Jake have his way?” 
“Apparently.” 
~~~~~
# 56 - Ridden a Mechanical Bull
Jake and Coyote walked into the cowboy bar together and started their search for the other Daggers, who had all apparently arrived before them. 
“Found ‘em,” Coyote stated, nudging Jake in the side. 
Jake turned his head and recognized the woman climbing up on the back of the mechanical bull. And even if he didn’t, the fact that Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster were standing around the area and cheering her on would have cleared it up.
Dove focused on the task at hand, locking her legs around the bull and prepared to move her body in time with the bull. Jake and Javy made their way over to the area as the mechanical bull started to move. 
“Yeah, Dove!” Phoenix cheered for her.
“She can really move her hips well,” Rooster commented, staring down Jake as he spoke. “Don’t you agree, Hangman?” 
Jake glared straight into Bradley’s soul before turning back to Dove. She managed to hold on for longer than anyone expected, but with a quiet giggle, Dove dropped onto the mat. Rolling onto her knees, Dove crawled to get off the mat. 
Jake offered her a hand and she took it without hesitation. Hopping down from the mat, she moved to pull her boots on again as Bob climbed up onto the mat to go next. Dove stood up slowly, offering him a smile that seemed to make time slow around them.
“Long time no see,” Dove stated teasingly. “Did you miss me?” 
“Well, my day was a lot less entertaining without you in it,” Jake commented, causing Dove to raise an eyebrow. 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” 
“You make life . . . interesting,” Jake replied, missing the side eye that Coyote and Rooster shared behind him. 
“Interesting?” Dove repeated, causing Jake to wince. Laughing, she nudged him again. “I’m just teasing, Jake. Lighten up. Relax. Have a drink.” 
She walked past him, practically serene, and over to where Phoenix was standing, cheering on Bob, who was still hanging on. Coyote wrapped an arm around Jake’s shoulder and Jake promptly ignored his shit-eating grin.
“You know, of all the words you could have used to describe her, you chose ‘interesting’?” 
“Shut up, Javy.” 
“To think I took advice from you. No wonder I don’t have a girlfriend.” 
~~~~~
# 57 - Given a Fake Name
Dove stood at the bar with Phoenix, waiting to order another drink. The other Daggers were waiting at their table, which they could see from the bar. Folding her arms on the bar, Dove glanced to her right as a man took the spot next to her.
“Have you been waiting a while?” he asked, causing Dove and Phoenix to turn to him. 
“Yeah, but they’re clearly understaffed, so we don’t mind,” Dove returned politely. 
“Have you been here before?” the man continued. 
“No, it was recommended by one of our friends,” Dove explained calmly. She shared a look with Phoenix, who subtly shrugged her shoulders. 
“And what do you think about it so far?” 
“The mechanical bull is a unique touch.”  
“Have you been on it yet?” the man asked, leaning on the bar with a smile. 
“Yeah, earlier.” 
“How’d you do?” 
“I think they said nine seconds.” 
“That’s amazing for your first time up on one.” 
“Thank you.” 
“I’m Jared,” he introduced, offering his hand for her to shake. 
Dove quickly came up with a fake name and introduced herself back to him. Shaking his hand in return, she turned back to the bartender. She and Phoenix shared a side glance before Jared asked her another question. 
~~~~~
# 58 - Been Bought a Drink
Jake glared at the back of Jared’s head, watching the interaction between Dove and the stranger intently. It was a bar and Jared was a random man who walked up to Dove and Phoenix. Jake had every right to be concerned, he reasoned to himself. 
“I’m going up there,” Jake stated gruffly.
“Did he do something?” Payback asked, turning around to look at the bar. 
“He’s loitering.” 
“It looks like they’re just talking. Dove doesn’t even look anxious.” 
“No, he’s bad news,” Jake insisted. 
“Because he’s doing something wrong or because he’s flirting with Dove?” Coyote questioned, turning to his best friend. “Would you react the same way if he was showing more of an interest in Phoenix?” 
“I’m going up there,” Jake insisted, ignoring Javy’s question. 
Meanwhile, at the bar, Dove and Jared had finally waved over the bartender. Dove ordered her drink, but before she could hand over her card, Jared offered to put it on his tab. And even though Dove insisted that she could pay for her own drinks, Jared insisted. 
“My treat. And besides, it’s your first time here. I have to make sure that you have a good time, so you’ll come back again.” 
“Thank you,” Dove replied quietly, quickly moving into unfamiliar territory. 
While they waited for their drinks to be made, Jared continued to ask Dove perfectly normal surface level questions. Dove was analytical by nature and Jared didn’t seem to ask her anything that was a blatant red flag. But she was still cautious. The bartender handed over their drinks before Dove turned back to Jared. 
“Thank you for the drink, but we really should get back to our friends,” Dove stated politely, offering Jared a small smile. 
“Before you go,” Jared stated, causing Dove to pause, “do you think that I could get your number? Or maybe, at least, a dance?”
“Um,” Dove began, trying to find the right words. 
“She has a boyfriend,” Phoenix interjected, causing Jared’s face to fall. 
“Oh.” 
“Sorry, I was trying to tell you before you bought the drink,” Dove replied, half-lying, half-telling the truth. She did tell him that she wanted to pay for her own drink. 
“Do you guys need help?” Jake asked, appearing from the crowd. 
Phoenix rolled her eyes at the subtle territorial display—or not so subtle, depending on who you asked—that Jake put on. Jared, quickly assessing the fact that Jake was built enough to kick his ass if he really wanted to—and Jake looked like he wanted to—slipped away, leaving Dove and Phoenix at the bar with Jake. 
“Are you alright?” Jake asked Dove, who nodded in return.
“Yeah, he seemed harmless. We’re fine.” 
“You’re sure?” 
“I’m fine, Jake.” 
“I’ll take a tequila shot,” Phoenix told the bartender, who nodded and moved to pour one for her. 
~~~~~
# 59 - Danced with Someone at a Bar
“I love this song!” Phoenix yelled, getting to her feet. 
The Dagger Squad had settled around their table, enjoying their drinks and catching up, but Phoenix was itching to move. Phoenix reached over and grabbed Bob’s arm, practically pulling him straight out of his seat. 
“Let’s go dance!”
Jake watched Phoenix drag Bob off her before turning to look at Dove, who was already staring back at him. Turning so that his whole body was facing her, Jake leaned in closer to her so that he didn’t need to scream over the music.
“Do you want to dance too?” 
“Do you want me to make your night more interesting?” Dove quipped back, though she looked unsure of herself. “You know that I have two left feet, Jake.” 
“I’ll lead.” 
“If I fall on my face—” 
“—I won’t let you fall,” Jake promised, causing Dove to pause as her cheeks warmed.
“Alright.” 
Jake and Dove left the Dagger table and walked out onto the crowded dance floor. Dove reached out and kept a tight hold on Jake’s hand, worried about losing him in the swarm. Jake managed to find a space for them before turning back to Dove. She released his hand and smiled anxiously.
“Just follow me,” Jake called over the music. 
Dove nodded and just sort of swayed to the music. The crowd shifted around them and pushed them closer together. Jake put his hands on Dove’s waist to keep her steady on her feet. And Dove, either subconsciously or consciously leaned against him too, letting Jake wrap an arm around her. 
They swayed together to the music as Jake reached for Dove’s hand. Twirling her around gently, Jake wasn’t aware that he was giving her the most genuinely joyful smile and that his eyes never once deviated from her. 
From the way that her nose crinkled as she laughed to the soft look in her eye as she turned back around, he was entirely and completely captivated by her. 
Dove spun around again and laughed as she leaned against Jake, still a bit clumsy. Jake wrapped an arm around her waist, not just to steady her this time. But to unabashedly keep her close to him. And Dove didn’t push away from him.
From across the room, Coyote, Rooster, and Payback sat together, all quietly watching the interaction between Jake and Dove. Coyote appeared tired, not from the night or the alcohol. But from watching Hangman and Dove continue to tiptoe around each other. 
“Have we tried just pushing their heads together yet?” Payback asked, taking a sip of his beer.
“I’m really considering it,” Coyote replied, shaking his head.
“I can flirt with Dove some more,” Rooster offered, causing Payback and Coyote to turn to him. 
“I’m honestly worried he’ll rip your head off at this point,” Coyote stated, turning to Rooster. “He turns almost feral.” 
“I know. But I’m really enjoying pissing him off.”
~~~~~
# 60 - Shown Someone Else Your Tattoo
Standing outside the bar beside Jake’s truck, Dove turned around. She had to unbutton her jean shorts to do it, but she pulled the waistband of her shorts and her underwear down a little to show Jake her tattoo. She had placed a protective clear patch over it for her shower and just decided to wear it to the bar as well. 
“It’s not very large, but I’ve wanted it for a while,” she explained, causing Jake to nod. 
“What made you pick that one?” 
“I was always drawing stars when I was anxious when I was in college,” Dove admitted, glancing back at her tattoo. “And this was just a group of them.”  
“It looks good,” Jake complimented Dove, causing her to smile. 
“Thank you. I’m really glad that I got it, actually.” 
“It suits you.” 
Pulling her shorts up and buttoning them once again, Dove turned around to face Jake. She leaned back against his truck, folding her hands behind her back.
“Are you excited for the team trip?” 
“I guess.” 
“You’re the one who voted for the lake house,” Dove reminded him.
“I just didn’t want to go to Vegas.” Shifting his weight on his feet, Jake met Dove’s gaze once again. “But I was thinking . . .” 
“Yeah?” Dove asked softly.
“Did you want to leave maybe two days before everyone else? There’s a few more things I think that we can knock off the list if we do.” 
“Just the two of us?” 
“I mean . . . yeah.” 
“I’m just teasing you, Jake,” Dove mused, pushing off of his truck. “Just tell me when I need to be ready to leave, and I’ll be ready.” Offering him a soft smile and letting her touch on his arm linger, Dove added, “Goodnight, Jake.” 
“Night, Dove.” 
Jake turned and watched Dove walk over to her car. He stood there until Dove got into her car and drove home, trying to keep his mind focused. But that was becoming more and more difficult around Dove these days.
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buzzcutmase · 10 months
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Sarah could you please post how you found out on Insta? 😔 I’m really conflicted about all this and im aure it would help people undertaand
OK PLEASE BEFORE YOU CONTINUE, i don’t know if who she claims to be is actually her or if she was catfishing us all along and this instagram account isn’t actually hers since she has not gone private on there which seems a bit odd so please DON’T go over there messaging or being disgusting bc no one knows who this girl actually was okay?…..
anyway, today at like 3am i got a message from an anon saying this (+translation!):
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and they sent me links to her instagram and stuff she posted on her golfmase blog as receipts so i had a look for myself…. 🫢 about the “holiday dump” and her ibiza trip or whatever…. this is what she posted on tumblr:
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and here are some pictures from “her” instagram, which clearly shows the pictures are not recent, they are from june and september 2022 from mallorca and turkey.
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in the instagram bio it also says that she works with her sister and does eyelash stuff in her mum’s salon where they live up north and NOT in surrey like she claims.
and now the most morally wrong and fucked up part… she tagged her mum, who has a nail salon, in some of her stories she put in the hightlights:
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and when you click on the name it shows her mum’s profile where her mum is very much still active with posts like this:
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from april 30th, but there’s also very recent ones from the end of may. and yes it is her mum and not someone else because in this woman’s highlights there is this picture which clearly shows “leah”, her twin and her parents:
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not even going to mention that she has lots of photos with her boyfriend still up on instagram, if that’s her, but i’m not going there bc that’s another story.
again, i don’t know if it is actually her or just a face she claimed to have and this girl is not aware of it but using some of what jess, an apparant friend of hers, has said she seems to have had another account and it’s the same person since they talked and she saw her face on multiple occasions:
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so basically… i don’t know if it’s actually her or just some fucked up weirdo claiming to be this girl and i’m sorry that some people are disappointed now bc they liked her or whatever but this is the truth and some of you can stop calling me a liar now thank you 🫢😐
BY THE WAY here’s a link about another little thing i noticed a while ago which has irritated me for so long about her so i’m sharing it here now too.
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“ how long have you known? you know, about the baby. “ with the regency AU
the regency au has blown up today and i freaking love it I'm so excited for this (i also very specifically pulled reference for their home from biltmore mansion in North Carolina. I've been several times and it is simply DIVINE. also helps cause i have pictures of the rooms on my phone lol)
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word count: 670
warnings: pregnancy mention obvs, inaccurate regency things
Jacob had been in London for two whole months, away on business for his family that needed his full attention. 
He was due to arrive back at their country estate that afternoon, and Veronica had the most wonderful news to share with him. 
Only a few days after his departure did she start to get sick. Then she realized that her blood hadn’t come in nearly two months. The doctor was called and he confirmed what Veronica had been suspicious of all along. 
She was with child. And she couldn’t be happier. 
It was news that she decided to wait to tell her husband. It felt like something too joyous to write in a letter. She wanted to see his face, to know his reaction to such news instead of waiting in dread for his reply. She knew he would be happy. They discussed often the prospect of children and filling their large house with laughter.
But now, as she sat in the salon with a cup of tea, waiting for him to return — she felt doubt filling her gut now. What if he would be angry at her for keeping it from him? What if he didn’t want a child right now? Veronica set down her saucer and cup to place a hand on her rolling stomach. She hadn’t been sick for weeks. She couldn’t tell if it was her nerves or the pregnancy that was doing this to her.
Hard footsteps echoed through the reception hall and the winter garden. Someone cutting their way across the main floor to get to the salon faster. She knew those steps. She had been missing those steps. They were Jacob’s. 
Veronica pulled herself from the couch she was lounging on and turned to face the open doorway. Just as Jacob marched into the room with a wide smile on his face. He still wore his riding boots and coat. Not taking the time to change before rushing off to find her. Tears welled to her eyes at the sight. 
“My love!” he exclaimed as he met her in a bone-crushing embrace. “Oh, how I missed you. London is such a bore without you.” 
“I do regret not going with you, Mr. Seresin,” she admitted as she carded her fingers through his hair. “But you’re home now. With me. That’s all that matters.” 
Jacob continued to embrace her, but drew back just enough to press his lips to her own. It was hungry, after so long apart. He groaned into her mouth as his hands glided down her back, one landing on her waist, the other on her lower back. Pressing her in closer to him. But then he paused, brow furrowed, as he pulled away from the kiss. 
“Something’s different,” he said as he searched her face. “I can’t tell exactly what…But something feels different since the last time I held you.” 
Veronica opened her mouth to reply, to tell him the wonderful news, but no sound came out as his hands searched her. As he tried to figure it out for himself. His wide palms traced along her sides, then one hand ghosted over her abdomen and he paused. His touch became more firm through the fabric of her silk dress. There was a distinct roundness there that had not been when he left two months ago. 
He looked back up into her face with wide, questioning eyes. “Dear heart…?”
“I-It’s the most wonderful change,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as tears clung to her lashes. “Jacob…My love…I’m pregnant.” 
“How long…” He looked down at her belly, still trying to process. “How long have you known?”
“The doctor confirmed it only a week after you left. I…I didn’t want to distract from your work. I wanted to tell you in person, see the joy on your face. You are — you are happy, yes?”
“Veronica, I — I’ve never been happier.” 
He took her face in his hands and kissed her then. Soft and sweet and full of smiles.
prompt list || open
send in a prompt and an au!
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1 and 7 for the drabble prompts <3
I wish we could talk more often. Let me hug you
"Did I mention yet that we got invited to a wedding in a month?" Nina said as the girls were driving back after their shopping session.
"No, whose?" Luna asked her from the front seat.
"Well, technically I didn't get invited anywhere," Nina clarified, "It was for Gastón and plus one. The wedding is Isla's goddaughter's. Full-on black tie, very big event. The family is apparently some older Columbian family who nowadays live at little bit north of Buenos Aires."
"Huh, do you remember the name?" Ambar questioned, "I don't think I know any Columbian families."
"Gastón said that he didn't remember how his parents even know them. Elizabeth Gomezelia, I think." Nina tried to remember. "Uhm... Gastón said that she apparently used to have a crush on him when they were 13... they haven't talked since."
"At least this is for her wedding and not some other attempt to reconnect," Ambar remarked.
"Oh, I am not threatened or anything like that. I already have the ring." Nina laughed, "We actually already sent the RSVP that we're going. I need to remember to talk to Jazmin about this."
"Gomezelia..." Luna mumbled all of a sudden. "LIZZIE! Oh my god!"
"Luna, you okay?" Ambar asked after scolding Luna about never scaring the driver.
"Yes... but I just realize... Lizzie. When we still lived at Cancun before Sharon bought it, it was the vacation house of this Columbian family. I used to play with their daughter often. Her name was Elizabeth. Nin it has to be her." Luna explained, "I wonder how she is doing. I don't have her contact, but I would love to catch up."
"Well, I can ask Gastón if he has her contact," Nina suggested.
*
"Luna?!" Luna saw a blonde woman enter Jam & Roller where she had been waiting. Nina had gotten her Elizabeth's contact and they had set up a meeting. "It really is you! It has been years!"
"Lizzie!" luan bounced to meet her, "Let me hug you!"
"It literally has been over ten years." Lizzie said as they sat down with smoothies, "How are you here in Buenos Aires?"
"Mom and Dad got a job her in 2016," Luna explained. "I thought you lived in Columbia."
"We moved here a year after they sold the mansion. How did we never run into each other?"
"I did upper secondary at Blake South college," Luna continued selling tales, "I am a professional rollerskater now, and I work here occasionally to train teams."
"Well, that is not a surprise." Lizzie nodded, "I went to a boarding school, and graduated as a cosmetologist last year. I am hoping to open my all salon. Well, after the wedding."
"I heard about that. Congratulation!"
"Thank you. I could say the same for you." Lizzie looked at the ring in Luna's finger. "How did you get my number? Don't get it wrong, I love to meet you again, I always wished we could have talked more, but my number has changed at least twice after Cancun."
"I heard you know the Peridas," Luna explained, "I got it through them."
"Yes, Isla Perida is my godmother. I was christened a little bit later on when I was 9. How do you know them?" Lizzie's eyes went to Luna's ring again. "He... He is not your fiance, is he?"
"Who?"
"Gastón Perida."
"Oh, no no no no no no no, no." Luna burst out laughing, "Could you even imagine?" Once Luna got herself under control again, she looked up and saw Lizzie's perplexed face.
"Gastón is my best friend's husband." Luna took her phone out and showed Lizzie one of the pictures that had been taken at Gastón and Nina's wedding. "Nina told me about your wedding invitation and I recognized your name from there."
"World really is small." Lizzie shook her head laughing. "Only thing I have heard if him through the years is that he was at Oxford."
"Oh yeah, they moved about 1.5 years ago. He is Matteo, my fiance's, best friend."
There we go! I don't know how many people remember the Columbian girl Sharon though was Sol for a slip second, well here is a reunion
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the-void-writes · 2 years
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Paradise Intros
For convenience’s sake, here’s the backstory on all the main Paradisian citizens in “Our Side of Paradise,” also known as Sophie’s twelve parents. (I feel like I’ve done this before, but there’s pictures this time so hopefully that helps. Also, Dante’s not in this because he doesn’t physically show up until later.)
All the art came from Artflow.
@bloodlessheirbyjacques​ because you had asked about Joe 😊
TW for the brief mention of suicide
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Gazali Walker
The King of Paradise, arriving in 1726. A group of foreigners trick Gazali and his village into traveling with them to profit off of his powers, and when the villagers retaliate, it’s total bloodshed. Gazali is the only one to survive, because the celestials make contact and pull him through to their world. They tell him of his true power; complete control over their dimension, where he can live forever without growing old. He uses this to create a kingdom for the other people that the celestials bring through, people who have suffered like him. Gazali is a kind king, though he has the energy of a golden retriever.
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Pedra Castillo and Josephine Navarro
Pirate wives from 1730. Josie met Pedra in a garden during a ball, where they confided in each other over Josie’s desire to be with a woman and Pedra’s desire to be seen as a woman. They decide to take a boat and sail across the world to a place where they can be themselves, but are attacked by other pirates. The cannon fire destroys the boat and sends them into the water, which brings them to Paradise. Gazali tends to them, offers them the sanctuary of Paradise, and gets the celestials to grant Pedra the physical form that she wants. Now, the two ladies get to perform music for everyone.
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Javi Álvarez and Alex Whittaker
Arrive in 1819. Javi is the third-eldest of four heirs to the Álvarez kingdom, and Alex is their new gardener from Ireland. Their relationship is a secret, as is the fact that they’re both trans, but Alex met an anomalia (a Freak) who changed his appearance, while Javi is stuck in his current form. After Javi’s brother dies in battle, Javi tries to come out so he and his sisters aren’t married off to preserve their status, but his family thinks he’s gone mad. They find out about his relationship with Alex and blame him for corrupting Javi’s mind, making plans to execute him the next morning. Javi breaks Alex out and runs away with him, leading them both to Paradise. Gazali helps Javi the same way he helped Pedra, and he and Alex become the life of the party in Paradise.
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Harry Cooper and Cecilia Finley
Arrive in 1865. Cecilia loses her daughter to illness just before the war starts. Her husband left a long time ago, so her only solace is her best friend Harry, who is looked down on in town because he doesn’t want to marry. They plan to escape north to freedom while everyone is distracted by the war. Many people try to stop them, almost killing Harry along the way, but he and Cecilia escape through the river and make it to Paradise. Cecilia becomes a gifted dancer, while Harry gets to write poetry and novels.
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Deliah Hodge and Molly Flynn
Arrive in 1978. Deliah is the rebel of her family, riding motorcycles and cutting her hair much shorter than any other lady would. Molly dreams of being a fashion designer, but her visions are deemed too outlandish, and many people in town are hesitant to buy from a lady of color. Deliah falls in love with her and her dreams, and offers to take her across the country to New York. They actually get to Paradise by just going for a swim during their trip, but they love the vibes of Paradise and stay to open up a joint-tailor-shop-and-salon. Molly gets to make clothes for people who actually love her ideas, and Deliah gets to cut hair for other women like her that don’t present traditionally feminine.
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Ruhi Mandal
Arrives in 1980. She wants to be a boxer, despite her mother’s embarrassment, and her only true supporters are her childhood friends, Viraj and Avir. Her family arranges her marriage to Viraj because he’s a respectable doctor, even though Ruhi loves Avir, who her mother hates for being an artist. Luckily, Viraj is also in love with someone else, and they plan to confess during their wedding to prove their families wrong, but they both end up confessing to Avir. While the families cry out in outrage, Avir confesses that he only has feelings for Viraj. Heartbroken, Ruhi lets them both leave before the families can hurt them. They run away, and while the guests settle down, Ruhi overhears that her mother is already arranging her marriage to another man to save the family from ridicule over their undesirable daughter. With no one left to turn to, Ruhi decides to jump from the cliffs by her house to spare her family. She ends up in Paradise, and everyone is incredibly comforting. Ruhi gets to become a boxer, and though she still has many depressive thoughts, her new girlfriend Cecilia is there to take care of her.
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Frank Gonzalez
Arrives in 2008. Works for Ves Corp as one of their new doctors, and starts enjoying a casual relationship with his soldier friend, Rio. Their boss, Vesely, asks Frank to make him some standard vaccines, and he does. As Vesely starts asking for higher dosages, and many coworkers start disappearing, Frank becomes suspicious. Rio begs him not to look into it under the pretense that he might be fired for breaching privacy. Frank pries anyway, and discovers that his vaccines were genetically combined with Vesely’s powers to act as a Freak-serum, which horrifically mutated his coworkers with the help of a viral parasite. Feeling responsible and deducing that Rio knew about it the whole time, Frank destroys his next batch of vaccines and runs away, stumbling into Paradise. He shuts himself away in his new doctor’s office, Gazali and his friends are slowly coaxing him back out.
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Joseph Kingsley
Arrives in 2015. Joe was sent to Ves Corp because his parents had enough kids in the house and couldn’t deal with looking after a Freak. His extra arms make him a welcome addition, and he’s just trying to get by in his new home. Of course, things start taking a turn with the relentless testing and harsh scientists. Joe finds comfort in one of the new caretakers, Jason Rhodes, who has been mentally destroyed by the loss of his godson. As Joe helps him find the will to live again, Jason looks after him as best as he can, promising that Joe will have a long and happy life. But Jason is moved to a new division, and Joe’s teammates start dying from the testing over many years. Joe is scared for his life, but he finally finds freedom after someone frees all the patients. With no home to go back to, Joe ends up in Paradise. He becomes a great chef who everyone loves and confides in, to the point where he’s the only person who can actually talk to Dante until the others arrive later.
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rollijapanese · 1 year
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Deep thoughts jack handy
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Reading a few funny jokes before bedtime can help us unwind and make us feel more relaxed. Sharing jokes and humor can strengthen bonds between people and help provide a relaxed and friendly atmosphere. Sometimes making fun at life and taking ourselves not too seriously can help make us feel better. Being sleep deprived stops us from living productive and positive lives. Improve your mood.Ĭan also ward off conditions like depression which can possibly lead to sleep deprivation. Increase blood flow and heart health Decrease pain. It reduces stress, and we all know that a stress-free mind helps keep our body healthy. Laughter is proven to have positive health benefits. "I hope if dogs ever take over the world, and they chose a king, they don't just go by size, because I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some good ideas." Why Is Laughter so Important? "Do you know what happens when you slice a golf ball in half? Someone gets mad at you. Then I say to myself, It is better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true than to be selfish and worry about my liver." If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. "Sometimes when I reflect back on all the beer I drink I feel ashamed. "To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there's no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other." That way when you criticize them, you are a mile away from them and you have their shoes." "Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it." "I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. "Sometimes I think you have to march right in and demand your rights, even if you don't know what your rights are, or who the person is you're talking to. "If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason." "If you go flying back through time, and you see somebody else flying forward into the future, it's probably best to avoid eye contact." Here are some of the most memorable ones: 10 Most Amazing Deep Thoughtsĭeep Thoughts by Jack Handey is a book that holds some of the funniest and most absurd segments from the Saturday Night Live years. He wrote the famous Deep Thoughts segments that he put into a book, Deep Thoughts. He is a writer and comedian and spent several years as a staff writer for Saturday Night Live. Who Is Jack HandeyĬontrary to popular belief, Jack Handey is an actual guy. Laughter is sometimes the best medicine and laughing regularly can help keep our minds off of things, provide health benefits, and even relax us to help us to sleep better. Instead, they were presented with a hilarious and slapstick Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey. The Deep Thoughts segment would come on with zen-type music and viewers were expecting an inspirational moment with a thoughtful quote. that aren't in the show, including Deep Cove and several restaurants.If you're a fan of Saturday Night Live you may remember the funny little bits that used to air in between comedy stints in the years 1991 to 1998. To quote Breckenridge: "To be quite frank with you guys, I’m pretty done filming in Vancouver in the winter. Not really interested in doing that ever again actually, it’s really cold." Speaking to Narcity, Breckenridge said the people of Canada were "really kind" and recommended her favorite places in B.C. Just make sure to wrap up before your Virgin River trip. Here, Virgin River crews filmed inside locally loved businesses like Samz Pub, which appears as a pub visited by Melinda and Jack and In a Wink Beautique, which plays a hairdressing salon." "A half-hour drive from Vancouver, Port Coquitlam is located on the north banks of the Fraser and Pitt rivers. Vancouver's tourism website elaborated on filming locations on other, smaller scenes across the series: "Scenes between Melinda and Jack were also filmed in Squamish, near the river and the show’s waterfall scenes were filmed at Shannon Falls Provincial Park, a 10-minute drive from Squamish along the Sea to Sky Highway, one of the most stunning highway drives in the world," it noted. Some scenes were filmed behind Hart House, which Vancouver's tourism website bills as "an idyllic place to stop for a cup of tea or West Coast-inspired lunch, situated in a charming heritage house with manicured lawns and gardens that often host warm-weather weddings." Sold! The park is famous for its walking trails next to the water (opens in new tab). The Bakeaway truck owned by Paige-which Lizzie works at after Paige is forced to flee town-is filmed in Burnaby Fraser Foreshore Park, which is close to Vancouver.
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kalmeria · 11 months
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very sweet of u to care about trees and fruits 🥺 the sakura petals are so pretty btw, i'm jealous of people who have seen sakura trees in the flesh, they must be breathtaking. also hilarious that enstars has consummed your soul but you wouldn't recommend it to anyone - i feel that way about one video game franchise. i am already trapped but i can still save the rest of the world from it jfkdjdkdfkdk. - 🫀
p.s. hope you get lucky soon and find that nail polish!! i go to a salon to do my nails and i remember last time i had this very clear idea in my head about the design i wanted but they didn't have the shade of red i had in mind so we ended up choosing more of a mahogany red and it just didn't look right in the end 😔
my town has sakura trees at the side of the road in a number of places, and i feel like they are actually pretty common ornamental trees in my country! we actually just call them “ornamental cherry”. the specific cultivar is usually p. serrulata ‘kanzan’, which i know does well in continental climate. i looked it up and apparently it is the most popular cultivar in europe (and north america), so you know, there might be some where you live too? here they are usually grafted to have a straight trunk, making them quite uniform when planted in a row.. it’s not the same as those huge old trees in japan you can see pictures of, but the blossoms are still very beautiful!🌸
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(the first image is from two weeks ago, when they were just starting to bloom, the other one is more recent)
all of that aside. now i’m kind of curious what that thing you wouldn’t recommend is..
btw i’ll probably have to make a compromise about that nail polish color, since i’ve checked both of the two chainstores around here already, it’s okay though.
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mnoonthego · 1 year
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Day 7- Off to Amboseli (Dec 15)
(please remember the blog is also my travel diary so I’m not offended if you don’t read it and just look at the pictures 😊)
At 9 am on the dot, our truck and driver arrived at the house we are staying at so we could start our journey. We quickly filled up the land cruiser safari vehicle with our tents, sleeping bags, luggage, food etc. eager to get on our way. Our driver/guide, Robinson, is Maasi and fills us in on all things about Kenya- wildlife, culture, politics etc. He is doing amazingly well handling all of my questions!
Kenya is quite large and due to size, traffic around Nairobi and not the greatest roads, it takes a long time to get anywhere.  The hive of activity as you go through a town are something I am not sure I can describe in words! There are long line ups of wooden stalls selling a variety of items; however, there seems to be a disproportionate amount of tomato and red onion sellers along side the papaya, avocado, watermelon, cabbage and other merchants. Another popular item- shoes; large bins of second hand shoes. When we hear about our donated clothing items coming oversees, you can see them here in the markets beside the road. Shirts advertising colleges and popular North American brands hang everywhere waiting for their new homes. Amongst the people at the road side markets there are also sure to be goats and cows wandering with their herder who is often unseen. The backdrop of these roadside markets is a secondary row of tin “shops” with more substantial items such as tires, bikes, or water, a hair salon and a safari com (cell phone company) stall. Even just driving by it is overstimulating!
We drove through a number of smaller towns as well where it seems like shipping containers have been repurposed into houses and stores. There are always a group of men sitting out front watching the world go by or fixing something and small children everywhere. If you see the women, which you often don’t, they seem to be doing laundry or walking to or from the water station.
The closer we got to Amboseli National Park, the more Maasi Villages we saw, recognizable by their circular shape, cow dung construction and thatched roofs.  They are typically encircled by thorny bushes that have been pulled into place around all of the structures to keep the wild animals out.  
Herds of goats and cattle can also be seen everywhere. I have been surprised by the young age of the herders. I would say the majority seem to be between 7-13 years old. Apparently, they leave in the morning and come back before dusk typically not taking any water or food with them for the day! When we turned off the main road on to a “highway” that looked like a decommissioned forestry road, the kids would run towards the truck yelling “sweet, sweet” as I understand the tourists often throw candy out the windows for them.
We got to Amboseli National Park just after 1pm to begin our game drive.  The lid of our Landcruiser was popped up and up we went in to enjoy the park! I think my favourite experience at the Park was watching a hippo “snarf” its way through a grassy, swampy bit (sorry I can’t remember the name of it). The guide books all say guaranteed elephant and giraffe sightings and they aren’t kidding. They are everywhere! Everyone seems to be busy munching away. That said, there were parts of this huge park, where there seemed to be nothing you could possibly eat! There was a hyena den where there didn’t seem to be any thing green for miles around which was fine for a hyena but those that it eats like green things?!!? The other odd thing was the the hyena den and the wart hog den were almost right beside each other. The wart hogs must have some special deal with its neighbour that they won’t eat them. Another memorable aspect of Amboseli, in not a good way, was the amount of carcasses. I had mentioned earlier about the on going drought and the seeing all of these carcasses really brought that home.
Our home tonight- Amboseli Bush Camp. Wow this is beautiful glamping! (I’ve already posted a ton of photos) We have the whole upper camp which includes a kitchen tent, a dining/living room tent, our tent and JD’s tent all with a view of the man made watering hole with a back drop of the snow peaked Mt. Kilimanjaro. Although self-catering, there are staff to do your dishes which I could really get used to!
Tomorrow, back to Amboseli and then off to Tsavo East National Park.
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tasteforrot · 2 years
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Thanksgiving in Palm Beach
In Florida, I make sure to always call my dad “dad.”
Dad, do you know what you want to order?
What time is it, dad?
Dad, where do you want to sit, dad?
(Never daddy.)
People still make their assumptions, though.  Two years ago, my dad and I went out for dinner in Fort Lauderdale.  The host brought us to a small table in the corner of the restaurant.  This is more intimate, they said, before wink- ing and walking off.  In the host’s defense, I was dressed like someone’s third wife, in a stark white jumpsuit, cut low enough to reveal a black velvet bra.  It is possible I’m the one to blame.
Eleven years ago though, when I was 14 and wore only Delia’s graphic tees, my dad took me to see Jewel in concert.  Halfway through “Who Will Save Your Soul” a woman in the row behind us tapped his shoulder, hard.  Why don’t you date someone your own age? she wanted to know.  My dad insisted that I was his daughter, but she didn’t believe him.  That’s Florida.
Or it’s part of Florida.  It’s South Florida.  North Florida is church country. It’s Waffle Houses and Cracker Barrels.  It’s billboards that tell you how old fetuses are when they start to develop fingernails.  Central Florida is Disney World and Sea World and this massive water park where some kid I went to elementary school with died on a family vacation.  Where I’m from is noth- ing like that.  People like to say that the more south you get in Florida, the\ more north your go.  Where I’m from in Broward County, billboards feature ads for breast augmentation and MenOnlyLaw.com.  There are more 24-hour tanning salons than there are churches, and more pawn shops than there are used car lots, with flags touting messages like “Pool For Kids, Golf For You!” “Homes from the $30s!” “Buy, Buy, Buy!” That’s South Florida.
Two weeks after Donald Trump is elected President, my dad and I make the hour-long drive up to West Palm Beach.  As we get closer, I watch planes fly over 95, and wonder if any of the planes I’m seeing carry Donald, Melania, and Barron.  I decide to give the middle finger to a few of the smaller planes, just in case, a gesture that immediately makes me feel stupid and small.
Donald Trump’s vacation home would be in South Florida, I tell my boyfriend, by which I Mean Donald Trump loves gaudy things and, when it comes to gaudiness, South Florida is the capital of the United States of America.  West Palm has always appeared to me as classier than the town where I grew up, but it’s still South Florida.  It’s glamorous, sure, but it’s far from refined, far from classy or subtle.
“Subtlety is not our strength” is one of the slogans Ivanka uses to market Trump buildings.  This is ‘fuck off’ money, my dad says as we drive through one of West Palm’s tony neighborhoods.  We don’t know anyone who lives here.  We’re here for the view.  Do you know what that means? my dad asks.  I don’t respond.  It means you have so much money you can tell anyone to 'fuck off.’  I don’t respond.  We sit in silence for a bit until my dad exclaims, Oh, look.  That was Bernie Madoff’s home.  I’m going to slow down.  Take a picture. So, we slow down and I take a picture.
Back in the 90s, when my dad was still flipping houses, he was a fan of Trump’s.  My mom likes to tell the story of when they were still married and visited New York on vacation.  He made her stand in the lobby of Trump Tower with him for hours, until Donald appeared.  My dad had planned to tell Trump that he was his business role model, but when Trump finally appeared, my dad was too nervous to speak.  My fearless father, made speechless in the presence of Donald J. Trump.
My dad didn’t vote for Trump.  Nowadays, he finds him, in a word, deplor- able.  Still, it’s clear to me there’s a part of him that still finds Trump a bit appealing, if only for his money and Melania.
I try not to listen whenever I hear Ivanka start to speak.  She’s no less a vulgar arriviste than the rest of them.  But when I heard that at the age of 17 she forbid her father from dating anyone younger than her, I thought, Okay. Now, that I get.  My dad’s current girlfriend is four years older than me and 35 years younger than him.  I’ve met her once.  She was nice, but I don’t think we’ll be friends.  Everyone tells me I look like Melania, she said at one point in the evening.  I take it as a huge compliment.
But my dad’s Melania isn’t here tonight.  When I ask him where she is, he shrugs.  It’s the same response he gave when I asked if he loved her.
My dad and I celebrate Thanksgiving at the home of a family friend of a family friend, 2.7 miles down the road from Mar-a-Lago.  We eat outside.  It’s November and I keep having to wipe the sweat from the back on my neck.
I’d assumed politics would be the topic on everyone’s mind but instead we’re discussing genetics.  How is Ivanka so hot and Tiffany isn’t hot at all?  Tiffany’s mom is hotter than Ivanka’s mom, someone asks.  The men at the table nod the nod of excellent point.  So do some of the women.  Are they abiding by their role of ingénue or is that how they really feel?  I don’t know what to do or say, so I pull out my phone and open Safari.
Search: Bernie Madoff’s Palm Beach House Search: town of Palm Beach election 2017 Search: do people in Palm Beach like Donald Trump Search: Tiffany Trump’s mom
Towards the end of the evening, I’m approached by a grey-haired man.  He’s handsome in a slick, slightly evil looking way.  "What’s your name?“ he asks. Jenny, I tell him.  Even my name feels like too much to give this man. The man smiled with his too white teeth.  Is that your boyfriend, Jenny?  He nods towards my dad, who is biting the head off a chocolate turkey.  I’ve had too much white wine and not enough stuffing.  I don’t want to engage with this kind of man.  I know this kind of man.  I know this is the kind of man who will only leave me alone out of respect for another man.  "Yes,” I tell him. “That’s my boyfriend.”
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thiesen94shannon · 2 years
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5 Reasons To Purchase A Bottega Veneta Bag
I do see padded cassettes sell on The RealReal for round $2500, therefore they don’t hold their worth as well as another manufacturers, however folks should buy what they like. Bottega Veneta redefines the classic tote and makes it feel model new with its large-scale woven design. Thanks to its extensive inside and classic silhouette, it’s a bag for the ages. Bottega Veneta's most identifiable signature is its use of woven leather, a style referred to as Intrecciato. The design house has toyed with scale on its classic fashion of small strips of over-laid leather to create iconic baggage like the Casette, and bent the textile into new shapes as with its Double Knot and Jodie luggage. Crafted from Bottega Veneta's signature Intrecciato weave approach, it contains a chic sl... The Bottega Veneta slides have been made in Italy, they are designed with a textured footbed and embossed upper that's stamped to seem like the home's intrecciato weave. 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269745689 · 2 years
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BEST MAKEUP ARTIST IN LUCKNOW
BEST MAKEUP ARTISTS I N LUCKNOW
BEST MAKEUP ARTIST IN LUCKNOW
Today’s in the era of makeup industries we all are finding the BEST MAKEUP ARTIST for our special day or occasion. When we talk about professionals and collect knowledge about them from Google. So Google gives us many options.in the era of makeup, the industry is very hard to find the perfect makeup artist as we need. 1. who is a MAKEUP ARTIST? Makeup artists are professionals who use the cosmetic technique to enhance the beauty or appearance of the human body using cosmetic products.
2. What does MAKEUP ARTIST do? Enhancing facial appearance and beauty. Working with celebrity and tv industries also find a good career in Bollywood industries. Having awareness of the latest trend as well as fashion industries. Having good knowledge of color combinations & cosmetic products. Most important firstly before start any makeup make sure consulting clients on their Skincare regimen. 3. How to choose a Makeup Artist ?
Don’t judge makeup artists by their social sites. we have lots of options but in personal meeting is very important before confirming for your special occasion. we are clear about what we want so collect some ideas and pictures from social media and show in front of your makeup artist. freely share your skin concern. 4. Best makeup artist in LUCKNOW?
Here i am going to share some of my personal experiences through my Article hope this article helpful for those who searching for the BEST MAKEUP ARTIST IN LUCKNOW for their special occasion .
BHAAVYA KAPOOR MAKEUP STUDIO Bhaavya Kapoor one of the Best makeup artist in Lucknow. Bhaavya kapoor is a famous Makeup artist all over north india. Baavya kapoor is working in this field for 20 years and beacuse of the quality of service, she provide by her trained and proffessional staff and also she doing a great work which is realy appriciating .if you want the Best makeup artist without any second thought just visit for your service like makeup, hair care service, skin service and you will love the atmoshphere her nature and her staff engagement with you.
DIVYANJALI MAKEUP STUDIO
Divyanjali makeup studio is a professional and Best makeup studio in Lucknow. they offer you the Best makeup service for transforming your look for your big day. Divyanjali makeup studio artists understand your demand and what type of look you want then they suggest you the best color combination and create your dream look. you can also visit for skincare or any other luxury beauty salon for ladies who wants to look perfect every day.
MINAKSHI JAISWAL MAKEUP ARTIST (MJ)
Minakshi jaiswal is a bridal makeup artist with more than 10 years of experience working in many areas of the industry in Lucknow if you are searcing Best makeup artist in Lucknow you can also go with Minakshi Jaiswal she is a good listener and under standing to and like a magician she transform the texture of your skin and enhancing your appearance with the good makeup technique. so “ My dear bride to be” don’t think too much you confidently visit Minakshi jaiswal makeup studio for your bridal for any other service too.
HAYA MAKEOVER
HAYA MAKEOVER one of the best makeup artists in Lucknow and get your professional salon service at your doorstep .they maintain good quality and hygene at your doorstep. so this is the opportunity for housemakers who are busy in their work schedule and bride who lived out of Lucknow and wants her salon service and bridal makeover at home so here i recommend you go with her without any hesitation. Haya makeover also provides mehndi service at your doorstep, so brides can book for mehndi event for makeup and mehndi both at your doorstep. contact us-6394584794 email- infohayamakeover.com website- https://hayamakeover.com/ Address- 63/23 Hata Rasool khan, Lallkuan Rd. Hussainganj Behind Sunita Chandra Clinic , Lucknow-226001
NAINA BEAUTY SALON if you guyz Looking for some interesting offers for your salon service so Naina beauty salon is the Best makeup artist in Lucknow ( hajratganj ) area. she is calm and listen your concern for your skin and hair and suggest you best solution for your service required. she has 10+ years of experience in the makeup industury. as we all know that every woman wants to look gorgeous as well as deserves once in a Lifetime so my beautiful bride-to-be you will love the place for the best makeup and salon service too. contact us-9044220135 [email protected] Address- Ashok marg , opp indian Bank, Near Talwar petrol pump, Hajratganj-Lucknow,uttar Pradesh 226001
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deathbecomesnerds · 3 years
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“Home” - Part 1 - Raymond/Astrid
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She had been gone for nearly a week, and he missed her terribly--Raymond Smith was an absolute mess without his wife, and everyone around him was amused with his torment as he practically counted down the days until Astrid returned from her ‘girls retreat’ in Las Vegas as well as the California coast. 
Ray didn’t have Instagram, but he managed to find Astrid’s and her friends’ accounts to see their adventures and how happy and relaxed Mrs. Smith was. He found comfort in her selfies, in her videos of their trip to the beach, or gambling--but he missed having her home with him. He missed the smell of her shampoo in the morning as she took a shower, her groggy routine of tea and breakfast, the smell of her perfume as she left for work, and he even missed finding her reading collection scattered throughout the house. 
He was a miserable man. So miserable, he even stopped by the cafe just to help out. It was awkward. 
As he checked her Instagram for the thousandth time that day--he saw it, the fateful returning home selfie, and Ray’s chest burst with relief that she was coming home soon, in mere hours. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at the picture, of all the pictures he had and seen of her--this one was his favorite. 
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And while he admired the picture, he was immediately distracted by an incoming call. 
Star 🌟🦄
Ray smiled as he immediately answered the call “Hello, my love.” he cooed.
“Hey, baby…” Astrid said, she sounded tired and her voice rasped a little “I just wanted to let you know that we’re about to board the plane, so we should be home in about...15-ish hours.” 
He nodded “Okay, my love…” he said, stopping and listening to the background noise of Celeste and the other girls ragged on her, teasing Astrid about being home in time to...well, do things that they’d wish Ray would do to them instead of Astrid. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard Astrid’s voice pull away from the phone to call her friends ‘bitches’ before she cleared her voice and went back to the call.
“Sorry. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know…” she said softly.
Ray smiled “Shall I pick you up from the airport?” he offered. 
Astrid hummed “No, it’s okay. I probably won’t even get off the plane until after 10AM, and you’ll already be at work. So I’ll just grab a taxi, or something.” she told him.
He opened his mouth to say something, but he heard an announcement go off on her end of the call, they were both silent as they heard it: Flight 32, Los Angeles to Charlotte, North Carolina. 
“That’s us, I gotta go.” Astrid said.
Ray nodded “Alright, I will see you soon.” he told her. 
“I love you, Raymond.” 
“I love you too, Star.” he told her, waiting until she ended the call before he pulled the phone away from his ear. He looked around the home and started mentally preparing for her arrival--he knew he had more than 12 hours to go , but he wanted the home to be in perfect condition and ready for Astrid when she came home. 
It was the longest 17 hours of her life, and as she unlocked and entered the familiar manor with her rolling suitcase in tow, Astrid sighed heavily in relief as she closed the door behind her. 
The house smelled of Pumpkin Spice and Teakwood which brought a smile to Astrid’s face, it was apparent that Ray was getting ready for the Autumn season. The last minute summer getaway was nice, but Astrid realized that she wasn’t too much into warm weather--the dreary English weather was more her speed. 
She took her shoes off and left them carelessly by the door--she’d get back to them later as she pulled her suitcase up the stairs and into the bedroom before pulling her essentials out and hurried her way into the bathroom. She felt disgusting after all the traveling she had done and wanted to feel somewhat human before she took a nap, planes were a hard place to sleep. 
Especially since I’ve been up for almost 36 hours.
The warm water against her skin soothed her as she lathered her hair in enough shampoo and conditioner to flood a salon, almost wanting to fall asleep in the shower but she didn’t as she hurried to finish and wrapped herself in a towel. 
Astrid forced herself to blow dry her hair--there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to sleep with wet hair despite how tired she was, and the struggle was real as her body begged her to stop, even as she did it all half assed. 
When it was all finally over, and she got comfortable in a sweater and pajama bottoms, Astrid swan dived into the bed--landing head first onto her pillow and didn’t even bother to adjust herself before falling fast asleep. She did not care one way or another how long she could be out, she just wanted to sleep for more than five seconds as her eyes felt heavy and she thought of how great it was to finally be home. 
He stopped by for lunch, he knew she’d be home by now and hoped he could give her a little of his ‘lunch meat’ before he had to return to work. Ray saw her shoes thrown about in the Foyer, and he put them in place before he called her name, but she didn’t respond while he looked around the first floor. 
Ray climbed up the steps and stomped towards his bedroom where the door was wide open and he walked in to find Astrid splayed out on the bed, face down, snoring. 
“Oh, my love…” he whispered, walking towards Astrid as he pulled the comforter over her splayed body and walked towards her suitcase to retrieve all of her clothes and immediately threw them in the wash. He knew it would be one last thing she’d had to worry about when she woke up.
After a quick lunch, he threw the washed laundry into the dryer and left for work--knowing that he would see Astrid when he returned home. 
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rexisnotyourwriter · 3 years
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by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming​
After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.
Read on AO3
Catch up: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
*If you enjoy this, please like/reblog on tumblr and/or leave kudos/comments on AO3. Your feedback helps keep fic writers writing.*
Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab​
Chapter 3: Could You Be The One
The bell rang. Her peers bolted from their desks and flooded the hallway, grabbing at their coats and bags, before running down the hall, towards the door. Towards freedom.
She waited, at least until there were only a few remaining children gathering their belongings, before getting up from her desk. The teacher gave her a smile, but it felt off somehow in a way she couldn’t quite place. She smiled back anyways.
By the time she reached the hall, her coat had been knocked to the floor. A partial footprint was left on the arm. She picked it up and brushed the dust off. The tread marks were still visible. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and went to the washroom.
The stall doors were all open. Empty. She lifted the sleeve of her coat near the sink and ran the tap slightly warm. Then, with a wet paper towel, she gently dabbed at the dirt until it was no longer visible. The sleeve was damp, but she reasoned she should be able to conceal that from her mother until it dried. She pressed a dry paper towel into it as best she could. It would have to do.
She stepped outside into the courtyard, arms crossed to hide her sleeve. Her mother was waiting in the car, ushering for her to hurry. She walked quickly to the car and got in.
“Finally,” her mother muttered. “I was able to switch my hair appointment to,” she looked at the time, “well, now. So, you’re going to have to come along.”
She said nothing, having no choice in the matter. It wasn’t exactly fun, but there were worse things. The dentist, for one. Her arms remained crossed for the remainder of the car ride. Every few minutes, she checked her sleeve. Each time, the dark patch of wet fabric was lighter and lighter.
Her mother turned into a different person as soon as they exited the car and went into the salon. Outside Mother. Outside Mother is attentive, always smiling (except when inappropriate), and does not raise her voice. Outside Mother also never smokes.
The salon was an onslaught of pastel from the pink cushioned chairs to the lime and cream colored walls. Outside Mother gave her name to the woman behind the front counter and apologized for her tardiness. She turned around.
“You can have a seat and do your homework while you wait, okay sweetheart?” Outside Mother told her in her sickly sweet voice.
The girl nodded and took a seat in one of the pink chairs. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as it looked. She inspected the magazines spread out on the coffee table.
How to make two outfits out of one.
She passed on that knowledge.
There were only a few other people in the salon. Three employees including the woman behind the counter, who couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. She looked like Ingrid Bergman - warm, soft. She glanced over at the girl and smiled. The girl returned the smile, but looked away quickly, embarrassed, but unsure why. There was a sadness behind the woman’s eyes, despite the smile. It was the same way she saw anger behind her mother’s. Fear behind her father’s. She wondered what people saw behind hers, if there was anything to see.
Outside Mother was settled in her chair, the large cone-like contraption hovering above her head, next to another woman. They each casually flipped through a magazine while chatting.
“So, how are Harold and the boys doing? Your eldest must be, what, twelve now?” Outside Mother asked.
“Almost. Johnny will be twelve next month and Simon turned nine in August.”
“Just a year older than our little angel.”
Outside Mother nods towards “her angel”. She could feel their gaze and didn’t look up to meet it.
“Harry got some exciting news recently,” the other woman said.
“Oh really?”
“It’s not public yet, but it’s as good as done. I’m not really supposed to talk about it though.”
Outside Mother gave her an understanding look.
“But -” the other woman continued, “if you can keep a secret.”
“Of course.”
“Well…”
Her voice went softer than could be heard from across the salon. The girl gave up on eavesdropping and took out her notebook and a pencil. She flipped past the pages of her homework to the last clean page of her book and began to draw.
The bell above the door chimed, announcing the entrance of another patron. Her fitted dark blue dress popped out among the soft pastel setting. She didn’t fit the scene, but it was the salon and everyone else in it that suddenly felt out of place in her presence. The woman at the counter acknowledged her. She appeared to be a regular. She turned around and took a seat next to the girl revealing a bold, deep red lip.
The girl continued her drawing. It was an open field with a few flowers. At the center stood a penguin. In the sky, far above the penguin, an assortment of birds were flying. She finished the final details of the wings, added a couple more flowers to the field, then swapped her pencil for her container of colored pencils. The woman in blue watched her as she pulled out a light green pencil and began shading the grass.
“Hmm,” the woman pondered out loud.
The girl paused her coloring briefly, then resumed without looking up.
“I thought penguins lived in the North Pole,” she mused.
“No,” the girl replied. “They live in Antarctica.”
“I see.”
The woman took off her white gloves, plucking the tip of each finger like petals from a daisy.
“Isn’t there snow in Antarctica?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The woman smiled. She was amused.
“This penguin is from Antarctica, but she’s not in Antarctica,” the girl explained.
“Ahh, okay. Why?”
The girl thought for a moment, then shrugged.
“I think she was taken from there when she was very little and doesn’t remember it. She just knows she’s from there and supposed to be there.”
“Couldn’t she go back?”
“No. She can’t fly. Penguins are flightless birds.”
The woman took in the drawing once more, understanding it a little better.
“Is that why she’s all alone?”
The girl didn’t reply. Instead, she switched her green pencil for a yellow one. She colored the insides of the flowers.
“Why don’t some of the other birds come down?”
The girl let out a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.
“They wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because they can fly,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Surely they don’t fly all the time. They must need to rest.”
“They do,” she confirmed. “But they never stay.”
“That must get lonely.”
The girl carefully filled in the penguin’s beak with her yellow pencil.
“It does.” She traded the yellow for a black. “She’s used to it.”
The young woman from the counter approached the woman in blue. They were ready for her. She gave one last look to the girl, who looked up this time.
Their eyes met.
They smiled at each other - a real smile, with nothing behind it.
The girl watched the woman in blue follow the hairdresser to her station.
She took out her regular pencil again and added to her picture.
——————————————————–
Wendy spent an inordinate amount of time over the past few weeks sorting through resumes and cover letters for the new secretary position in the BSU. There was more interest in the position than she (or Gunn, for that matter) had anticipated. She was able to get Gregg to help weed out some of the applicants, but he wasn’t as discerning in his decisions as she would’ve been, and found herself having to make further cuts to his “approvals”. The list was narrowed down to eight. Half of them were coming in later that afternoon for interviews, conducted by Wendy and Bill. The rest would be completed the following morning.
Bill sat hunched over a file, cigarette in hand, when Wendy knocked on his partially open door. He looked up at her with tired eyes.
“What are your thoughts?” she asked.
He stared at her, his brow furrowed.
“The applicants,” she clarified.
He let out a deep exhale.
“You haven’t looked at them yet, have you?” It was more of a statement than a question.
Bill shook his head in response to his own forgetfulness.
“I’m sorry. I’ll do that right now.”
“It’s alright. I have questions prepared. It’s more for your benefit.”
“Still.”
He shuffled the stacks of papers and files around his desk in search of the resumes Wendy had given him last week.
“I can make another copy of them,” she offered.
“No, no. I’ve got them here. Somewhere.”
She scanned his workspace, her eyes landing on a familiar looking folder in a tray.
Wendy cleared her throat. Bill looked up.
Her eyes flicked from Bill to the tray. He opened the folder, confirming its contents.
“I’m reading these right now.”
“Okay. Our first interview is at 1pm, so we should be in the meeting room by quarter to. Someone from HR will bring them down.” Wendy saw the look on Bill’s face and… “You forgot those were today.”
“Wendy - ”
“It’s okay, Bill. Really. Like I said, I’ve already reviewed the candidates and prepared questions for the interviews. You just have to show up.”
“I appreciate it, you know. All the work you do.”
She left him with an understanding nod and a polite smile.
Bill snuffed out his cigarette and immediately lit another one.
Holden walked quickly past Wendy, who politely acknowledged his presence, on his way to Bill’s office.
“Bill.”
He exhaled the long drag he just took of his cigarette.
“Yeah?”
“Gunn wants us to help out on those freeway killer cases in California. They found another body a few days ago in the San Bernardino Mountains. He wants us out there tomorrow morning.”
Bill groaned.
“What?” Holden asked.
“Wendy’s not going to be happy.”
“Why?”
“We have those interviews today and tomorrow for the new position.”
“The secretary? Do you really need to be there for those?”
“I’m head of this team, Holden, so yes, it would be good if I was involved in the hiring of a new member.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand. I can talk to her, if you want.”
Bill gave him a look that very clearly said no.
“Those freeway killings. The victims were drugged, raped, and beaten, right?” Bill asked.
“And bound.”
“Another BTK.”
“Not exactly, though. There are distinct differences between them.”
Bill looked at the folder under Holden’s arm.
“Is that -”
“Oh. Yes.”
Holden handed the folder to Bill. It was thick.
Wendy entered the meeting room at 12:45pm sharp with two glasses of water and the tape recorder under her arm. With Bill busy preparing for the last minute trip to California, they both figured it wouldn’t hurt to record the interviews.
Her notebook and list of questions were already on the table. She placed a glass of water at each side in front of the respective chairs, with the tape recorder on her side to the right. She popped open the recorder to double check that there was a blank tape inside. There was.
Wendy had done a fairly good job at screening the applicants. They were all (so far) more or less capable of doing the job, but each with their own weak points.
The first two candidates of the day were internal - both obscene stenographers, women about ten to fifteen years Wendy’s senior. Sandra was up first. She had passable answers to Wendy’s questions, but didn’t seem to fully understand what the BSU was or why it was important. Sharon, the second, was four minutes late and very rattled by it. It could’ve been coincidental, but someone who flusters easily was not the best fit.
The third was a young man named Peter. He was barely old enough to drink, but his resume was strong and he had work and volunteer experience. When asked about his comfort level with disturbing topics, his face went visibly white and clammy as Wendy listed off, in some detail, a few of the types of victims they deal with - those who have been dismembered, raped pre or post-mortem, mutilated, etc. She stopped before he got to the point of gagging and quickly wrapped up the interview.
The final candidate of the day was a much older man, at least sixty, if not older, named Thomas. He reminded Wendy of Gregg in twenty odd years. He was intelligent and experienced, but he had the same air of naivety as Gregg. That lingering aura of having been sheltered from the “evils” of the world as a child, or as they called it, a good Christian upbringing. Thomas was sweet and polite, but showed clear signs of not being able to keep up with the pace that the position would require.
At the end of the interview, Wendy thanked Thomas for his time and walked him to the elevator on her way to Bill’s office. His face was buried in his hand, his elbow resting on the desk.
She knocked softly. He revealed his face.
“I can come back if now’s not a good time.”
“No, now’s fine. I could use a break.”
“First round of interviews are done.”
“And?”
She waffled her head side to side.
“They weren’t bad. Not ideal in varying ways, but some are more...workable than others.”
“It’s a unique gig.”
“I think tomorrow will be better. There are two in particular that should be more promising. Frank Tyler, late 20s, some military experience, so he’s probably not squeamish. He has a degree in philosophy, so he’s educated -”
“And jobless.”
Wendy smirked.
“The other one is Ruth Cairns. She’s a bit young. But she has secretary experience and recently finished her degree in sociology.”
It was Bill’s turn to smirk. “The Boston girl.”
“So you did read the files I gave you.”
“No shame in rooting for one of your own,” he replied, still smiling.
“There’s no nepotism here,” she countered. It came out more defensively than she intended.
“She wasn’t one of your students?”
“No.”
He believed her. “Okay.”
“How’s the studying,” she asked.
Bill sighed.
“It’s a mess, honestly. They’ve gathered every case where a body was found near a highway thinking they must all be connected going back almost ten years. There’s dozens.”
“Better to have more to work from than less.”
He knew she was right. It didn’t make it any less work, though.
“Half of them don’t even remotely fit the MO. They’ve got women, gunshot victims. Some were disposed of in pieces in trash bags. Some appeared to have been thrown out of a moving car.”
Wendy processed the information.
“And the MO is based off of the most recent victims?”
“Starting in ‘79. An unidentified male, 20s, found his head, torso, and left leg in a couple of trash bags behind a gas station in Long Beach. He’d been sodomized with a sock. A couple weeks later, the body of Gregory Wallace Jolley, 20, was found at Lake Arrowhead, emasculated and with his head and legs severed.”
“Pre or post?”
“Post. A few months after that, the decapitated body of 19-year-old Mark Alan Marsh, a Marine, was found near Templin Highway. He was also missing his hands.”
“So, there is a definite pattern of young male victims, late puberty to early adulthood. All white?”
“Yup. Another 19-year-old Marine was found September of last year near the El Toro Marine air base, also in trash bags. Then four months ago, Michael Cluck, 17, was found on the side of Interstate 5 near Goshen, Oregon. Sodomized, beaten, kicked. Cause of death was thirty-one blows to the head with a blunt object. The back of his head was completely destroyed.”
He let out a long breath.
“I’m not even sure this latest one is part of it all.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Well, he wasn’t dismembered. We’ll know more of the details from the autopsy tomorrow, but they said they found tissue stuffed deep in his nose and rectum.”
“Could we maybe be dealing with a pair? Or perhaps even more than two killers, working together to some extent.”
“Maybe. If we are, they clearly have the same ‘type’.”
“Well, best of luck.”
“Thanks.”
Wendy lingered for a moment in the doorway. Bill could tell why, but all he offered her was a small smile. She nodded, understanding, and left. There was no word from Nancy.
Holden and Bill were relieved to find California not as unbearably hot as Georgia had been, but it still didn’t take long for their previously clean and crisp shirts to become nearly drenched in sweat.
They had studied the crime scene photos on the plane. Christopher Allen Williams, 17, had been missing his socks, shoes, and underwear. There was nothing that indicated any staging in the body placement, and lack of significant animal activity made it unlikely that it had been dragged from anywhere.
An officer was waiting for them when they got to the station. He was somewhere between Holden and Bill’s age with a moustache from the 70s.
“Agent Tench, Agent Ford.” He offered his hand to Bill first, then Holden. “Officer Eddie Zott. Thank you for coming out here.”
“Happy to help,” Bill replied.
“I’ve just got the autopsy report. Here, why don’t we -”
He led them down the air conditioned hall and into one of the empty interrogation rooms. It was not air-conditioned, but there was a single fan in the corner blowing warm air around the room.
Zott put the report on the desk and gave it a read, his lips mouthing along silently. Bill and Holden gave each other a side-eyed glance while they waited for the news.
Zott’s lips stopped moving, and his brow furrowed.
“Well?” Holden asked.
Zott looked up at their expectant faces and slid the report across the table.
“Cause of death was pneumonia induced by aspiration,” Zott explained.
“The tissue paper in his nose. He choked to death on his own mucus,” Holden added.
“And he had phenobarbital and benzodiazepine in his system,” Bill said.
Holden inspected the report for himself, looking particularly at the amount of benzodiazepine detected. It wasn’t an exceptionally high amount. More than what he had been prescribed, but not enough for an overdose. It was the combination of that with the phenobarbital that would cause more of the sedative effects.
“Do we know anything else about the victim?” Bill asked.
Zott smoothed out his moustache and cleared his throat.
“Yeah,” he started.
Bill and Holden waited.
“It, uh, “ Zott continued. “Well, when we were asking around about him, it came to light that he was, a...a working man, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean, he was a prostitute,” Holden confirmed.
Zott nodded.
“What about the other victims? Were any of them prostitutes?”
“Not that we know of. But we didn’t ask specifically about that. As I said, this just happened to come up.”
“See if you can find out,” Bill suggested. “It could be an important factor in finding a motive or pattern.”
Zott nodded, clearly not thrilled at the prospect of going down that rabbit hole.
“Yes, sir.”
Wendy once again prepared for the second day of interviews. The water, her questions, and the tape recorder were all set up with six minutes to spare.
Frank was up first, and he was brought down to the basement at exactly 10am. He wore a well-fitted ochre nailshead suit with a light pink tie that reminded her of something Bill would wear. His hair still had some semblance of a military cut, but grown out and groomed.
“Miss Carr,” he said.
“Dr. Carr,” she corrected.
“My apologies, Dr. Carr.”
She stood up to shake his hand and noticed a copy of Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche under his other arm.
“I always bring a book with me,” he explained. “I always give myself plenty of time to get places, which leads me with some free time, so.”
Wendy nods in acknowledgement.
“Have you read it?” he asked.
She smiled as they sat down.
“Yes, I have.”
Many times, in fact. But none for pleasure.
“It’s one of my favorites,” he beamed. “I’ve been taking German classes so I can read the original text.”
A real Nietzsche fanboy.
“Jenseits von Gut und Böse,” Wendy replied.
“Sorry?”
Clearly he needed more practice.
The rest of the interview went fairly well, the glaring issue being his devotion to philosophical concepts, and rather basic ones at that. It wasn’t exactly the worst thing, but she could already anticipate him interjecting into psychological conversations with philosophical “well, actually”s. He also made a point more than once to mention that he had no issues with the potentially graphic nature of the position, nor did he feel uncomfortable about the topic of twisted killings in general. In fact, he ended the interview by once again reasserting his comfort level.
Wendy looked at him with a small smile.
“‘He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster’,” she responded.
His eyes beamed at her like a love-struck puppy.
That’s when it hit her. He had reminded her of someone the whole time, but she couldn’t figure out who until he got that look in his eyes.
Holden. He reminded her of Holden.
She thanked him for his time and sent him on his way.
The interview had ended early - he was a fast talker - which gave her enough time to make a cup of coffee before the next candidate arrived.
Interviewing the candidates reminded her of when she was actually able to talk to the inmates for their study. She missed it. There was no way Gunn was going to let her do that again. At least not willingly. Maybe with more secretarial help at Quantico, Bill could convince him of her value in the field.
Her coffee break went by quicker than she thought, and she was soon interrupted by the arrival of the next candidate, Jenny Simms. Her application was unremarkable in the sense that nothing exceptional stood out, but she had all the basic requirements. She had secretary experience, was first aid certified, and volunteered at a homeless shelter since she was a teenager.
Jenny’s answers were all satisfactory. She had a calm demeanor, but was by no means fragile. She didn’t even bat an eye when Wendy described, in detail, some of the more graphic cases they had dealt with. Jenny took it one further and responded with an almost equally grotesque story of a man coming into the shelter with a gangrene leg that he tried to amputate himself with a pocket knife, heavily under the influence of multiple drugs. Plus she referred to her as Dr. Carr right off the bat. Wendy was pleasantly surprised, and marked her down as a front runner.
There was a larger break between interviews this time to account for lunch. She went upstairs to the cafeteria to grab her usual salad. A couple times, when she needed a break from the windowless basement, she stayed in the cafeteria to eat. On more than one occasion, she was approached in her solitude by a man, noticing the absence of a ring on her finger, asking if the seat across from her was taken. They would sit down before allowing her to answer. The daylight wasn’t worth the bother.
Back in her office, she kept a close eye on the clock as she ate her lunch. Today’s salad was half wilted spinach with almonds and blueberries and too much dressing. It was better than the bitter romaine they sometimes had that was drowned in what they called a caesar dressing, but tasted more like ranch with garlic powder. It hardly even qualified as a salad.
Wendy’s phone rang just as she was finishing her lunch. It was Bill.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d answer,” he said. “How’s round two going?”
“Better than yesterday.”
“Sounds hopeful.”
“There’s still two more to go, but I’ve already got a good idea of who I think would fit. I’ll let you listen to the interviews when you get back before I give you my thoughts.”
“Afraid you’ll influence my decision?”
“When have I ever been afraid of that? How’s California?”
“Hot. I’ll take it over Georgia, though.”
“And the case?”
“We thought we had an angle, but it didn’t pan out. The latest victim was a male prostitute, so we were thinking maybe that’s who he’s targeting. Local cops looked further into the other victims and it doesn’t appear that any of them were involved in that.”
“Hmmm. Were any of them suspected homosexuals? Even if they weren’t formally prostituting themselves, there could have been some form of covert sexual exchanges.”
“I can suggest that.”
Wendy heard the ding of the elevator from down the hall.
“I have to go,” she said. “You’re back tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Have a safe flight.”
She hung up the phone and quickly dabbed her mouth with a napkin. She poked her head out into the hall. It was empty. False alarm.
As she walked across to the interview room, a woman who she recognized from the HR department, but not the usual one who had been bringing candidates down, turned the corner at the end of the hall with another woman whom she assumed was Ruth Cairns.
“Oh, I think it must be this way,” the HR woman said. “I get so turned around down here.”
Wendy quickly snuck into the interview room. Thankfully, she had made sure to have it set up before her lunch break.
A moment later, the woman came in with Ruth. She was wearing a red plaid suit with a pleated skirt and double breasted blazer, her auburn hair pulled back in a neat, but loose, bun.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Carr,” she said, holding out her hand.
Wendy shook her hand.
“Please, have a seat.”
Ruth looked at Wendy as though she was about to say something. She sat down and closed her mouth, but her eyes still had that look.
Wendy tilted her head and looked back at her.
“Is something the matter?” she asked.
Once again, Ruth opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first.
“It’s just,” she started.
Wendy signalled for her to go on. Ruth brought a finger up to her mouth.
“You’ve got a little something in your teeth,” she said.
Wendy felt her face grow warm and hoped it wasn’t showing.
Fucking spinach.
She ran her tongue across the front of her teeth.
Ruth opened her purse and pulled out an ornate silver compact.
“Here,” she offered.
“Thank you.”
Their fingers brushed as Wendy took the compact from her. The soft, innocent touch only made her blush more.
She hid her face behind the compact. It wasn’t as red as it felt, thankfully. She had successfully dislodged the spinach, and gave the rest of her mouth and face a thorough look over before handing the compact back to Ruth, holding it in a way that ensured their fingers would not touch accidentally.
“I know some people don’t like it when you say something, but if it were me, I would want to know. Rather get it dealt with right away then find out later you had a whole conversation with someone like that,” Ruth explained.
Wendy nodded in agreement, despite still being somewhat embarrassed.
She jumped right into the questions to get herself back on track. Some of her answers felt rehearsed. Not wrong, but definitely planned. Others, she seemed surprised by, but answered them acceptably.
“Why do you want this position?” Wendy asked.
“Well,” Ruth started. Wendy could already tell this was one of her prepared answers. “I am hoping to earn money so that I can continue my studies in psychology at grad school. Ideally in Boston, of course. This really seems like the perfect position for me.”
“And what makes you perfect for this position?” Wendy countered.
Ruth looked puzzled by the question.
“I should’ve thought that was obvious,” she replied.
Wendy raised her eyebrows.
“I mean,” Ruth continued. “I have the education. I have the job experience. I spent my summers on my grandfather’s farm helping him slaughter pigs and chickens, so I’ve got a strong stomach.”
Ruth went silent. Wendy looked at her. Both of them waiting for the other to speak.
“And,” Ruth continued. She took a deep breath. “I lied on my application form.”
Wendy sat upright.
“Just about my address. I said I lived here, but I don’t. I’m staying at a hostel. But I’m willing to move here because that’s how much I want this job. That’s how much I wanted a chance at an opportunity to work here. With you.”
Wendy’s eyes narrowed. Did she know this woman?
“I never formally took one of your classes. I didn’t get into any of them while you were still there. But I...I snuck in the back just so I could listen.”
She’s flattered, and a bit in shock. She wasn’t aware her lectures were that high in demand, especially based on some of the lackluster students she’d had over the years.
“‘Time and tide wait for no man’,” Ruth quoted. “Or woman, as the case may be.”
Wendy smiled.
“And wouldn’t you want someone who could not only do the job, and do it well, but also who could take the knowledge they’ve learned and apply it? Can you honestly say any of the other applicants would use this experience to further the work you’re doing even after they’ve left?”
They looked at each other - Wendy still smiling, Ruth worried that she’d blown it.
“You make a good case,” Wendy admitted.
She stood up. Ruth waited a moment before doing the same.
Wendy held out her hand.
“We’ll be in touch.”
Ruth shook her hand and gave her a sad smile, her eyes not meeting Wendy’s. Wendy gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and Ruth looked up to a reassuring smile.
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mariacallous · 3 years
Text
Afghan women forced from banking jobs as Taliban take control:
Taliban spokesperson Zabihullah Mujahid did not respond to a request for comment about the two incidents. Spokespeople for the two banks did not respond to requests for comment.
On the broader question of whether women would be allowed to work in banks in areas it controls, Mujahid added that no decision had yet been made.
"After the establishment of the Islamic system, it will be decided according to the law, and God willing, there will be no problems," he said.
...
Afghan women working in fields including journalism, healthcare and law enforcement have been killed in a wave of attacks since peace talks began last year between the Taliban and the U.S.-backed Afghan government.
The government blames most targeted killings on the Taliban, who deny carrying out assassinations.
From July - Taliban Impose New Restrictions on Women, Media In Afghanistan’s North:
Several residents of Balkh, a district in northern Balkh province that is located 20 kilometers north of the provincial capital, Mazar-e Sharif, confirmed to VOA that the Taliban have distributed leaflets, ordering locals to follow strict rules that are similar to those they imposed on Afghans when they last governed the country from 1996 to 2001.  
“They want to impose the restrictions that were imposed on women under their rule,” said Nahida, a 34-year-old resident of Balkh district, adding that the restrictions targeting women include “not leaving our houses without a male companion and wearing hijab.”  
...
Another resident of Balkh, who requested anonymity due to fears of retaliation by the militants, said “salons were ordered not to shave or trim beards” when the Taliban controlled the district last month.
“It is possible that they impose more restrictions. In some of the mosques, during the Friday sermons, Mullahs say that the Sharia law should be implemented,” another Balkh resident told VOA.  
In several districts of Takhar, Badakhshan, and Kunduz province that came under the Taliban control recently, local reports claim the Taliban issued similar restrictions on women and forced men to grow beards.  
The Taliban knocked on her door 3 times. The fourth time, they killed her
(CNN) Najia was at home with her three young sons and daughter in a small village in northern Afghanistan when Taliban fighters knocked on their door.
Najia's daughter Manizha, 25, knew they were coming -- her mother had told her they'd done the same thing the previous three days, demanding that she cook food for up to 15 fighters.
"My mother told them, 'I am poor, how can I cook for you?'" said Manizha. “(The Taliban) started beating her. My mother collapsed and they hit her with their guns -- AK47s."Manizha said she yelled at the fighters to stop. They paused for a moment before throwing a grenade into the next room and fleeing as the flames spread, she said. The mother-of-four died from the beating.
The deadly July 12 attack on Najia's home in Faryab province was a chilling preview of the threat now facing women across Afghanistan after the Taliban's takeover of the capital Kabul. 
CNN is using aliases for Najia and Manizha to protect their identity for safety reasons.
...
Taliban spokesman Suhail Shaheen said Monday that under the Taliban girls would be allowed to study. "Schools will be open and the girls and the women, they will be going to schools, as teachers, as students," he said.
But stories from locals on the ground paint a different picture -- and there's a deep mistrust of militants who caused such misery under their last rule.
In July, the Afghanistan Independent Human Rights Commission said in areas controlled by the Taliban, women had been ordered not to attend health services without a male guardian. TV was banned, and teachers and students were instructed to wear turbans and grow beards.
Religious scholars, government officials, journalists, human rights defenders and women had become victims of targeted killings, the commission said. One of them was Mina Khairi, a 23-year-old killed in a car bombing in June. Her father, Mohammad Harif Khairi, who also lost his wife and another daughter in the blast, said the young broadcaster had been receiving deaths threats for months.
When the Taliban last controlled Afghanistan, women who disobeyed orders were beaten.
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mysterycheerio · 3 years
Text
Lights Up, on Washington Heights up in the break of day…
Peter closed his door, keys rattling in his hand. Across the street sat his little corner shop - the coffee shop he had worked in since he was small, and in front of it, the gang of graffiti artists painting the roller door in front of it.
The customers were gathered around, watching the artist, mumbling to themselves in disagreement for the pseudo Banksy.
Frustration filled him, and he ran towards them, shouting, "Hey, HEY!"
They ran off.
I wake up and I got this little punk I gotta chase away,
He entered the shop, asking the polite customers to bear with him a moment while he got everything ready, humming to himself as he did his chores.
Pop the grate at the crack of dawn, sing while I wipe down the awning-
He stepped outside, flipping the sign to 'open', and said in a good-natured tone, "Hey, y'all, good morning."
Piragüero, the man selling a sweet, shaved ice type dessert, called a 'piragua', rounded the corner, like he did every day, "Ice cold piragua! Parcha, China, Cherry, Strawberry, and just for today, I got mamey!"
"Yo, Piragüero! ¿Como estas?"
"¡Como siempre, Señor Parker!"
He smiled as the old ladies brought in their grandchildren, pulling them up to the desk. He greeted them the way he knew the ladies wanted.
"They call me Peter, and you prob'ly never heard my name - reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated," he said in a sing-song voice. The guardians began to shop, leaving the children at the front of the store listening to his story - how he's a first generation immigrant, who now sells coffee in his little corner shop.
He went into the back for the second, talking loud enough so that the kids could hear him. He opened the fridge and sniffed the milk, checking to see if it was still fresh, but all that met his nose was the scent of putrid dairy.
The door opened, and in stood Maria Carbonell, known to the community as Abuela Maria.
"Abuela, my fridge broke," he said, voice hinting at desperation as he tried to speak quietly so the kids wouldn't hear him, "I have café but no con leche!"
She smiled, "Try my mothers old recipe: one can of condensed milk."
They walked back out, winking at the kids, "Nice!"
"Ay, Paciencia Y Fe!"
He turned his attention to the kids, "That was Abuela, she's not really my Abuela but she practically raised me, this corner is her esquela," he said, the kids laughing as he turned on the spot.
"Excuse me," a middle aged man said politely, "Can you tell me how to get here?" He pointed at a picture of downtown.
"Ah, you're probably thinking, 'I'm up shits creek'. Have you ever been North of 96th Street?" He shook his head. Peter figured as much, "Well, you must take the A train, go even farther than Harlem, to Northern Manhattan. Get off at 181st and take the escalator. And you're there!" 
"Thank you so much," he said, grateful, before holding his hand out to one of the kids and pulling him out of the shop, "Come on Michael."
"But dad, I want to listen to the man's stories!"
He smiled.
Soon the kids had to depart with their guardians, and he gave a friendly wave at their departure.
I'm getting tested, times are tough on this bodega, two months ago somebody bought Ortega's. Our neighbours started packing up, and picking up, and ever since the rent's went up-
"It's gotten mad expensive," a kid said, making small talk as Peter handed him his coffee.
"But we live with just enough," he said, smiling.
"Amen, brother."
Next up to bat, the Starks! They run the cab company, and struggle in the barrio, see - their son Harley is off at college, tuition is mad steep, so they can't sleep, everything they get is mad cheap.
"Good morning, Kid," Tony said, hand in hand with his wife, Pepper.
"Pan caliente café con leche!" 
Tony nodded, "Put 20 dollars on today's lottery-"
"One ticket, that's it!"
"Hey, a man's got a dream."
Peter laughed at the couples banter, when Pepper addressed him, "Don't mind him, he's all excited cause Harley flew in at 3 am last night-"
Peter set down the drinks, "Don't look at me."
They took their drinks, and as a parting message, Tony said, "Underoos, come over for dinner, there's plenty to eat!"
Peter barely got five seconds before he heard the sound of distinct chatter, "So, then Yesenia walks in the room-"
"-Uh huh."
"She smells sex and cheap perfume, it smells like one of those trees that you hang from the rear-view!"
"No!"
"It's true! She screams 'who's in there with you, Julio!' Grabs a bat and kicks in the door, and she's in bed with Josè from the liquor store."
"No me diga," the younger of the two said.
"Wanda and Nat, going to the salon?"
Nat nodded, and the two chorused, "Thanks Pete!"
Monday is a busy day for him, to say the least. 
The bell on the door dings for the umpteenth time that morning, but instead of a customer, it's a small, black boy, fourteen, who's rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
"Miles, you're late," he says, his tone annoyed, but Miles knows there isn't any real bite behind it.
"Chillax," he says, making his way to the back of the store, "You know you love me."
He rolls his eyes.
Me and my cousin running just another dime-a-dozen, Mom-and-Pop, stop-and-shop and oh my god, it's gotten two darn hot-
He turned on the AC. The weather man said this summer will be one of the hottest in history.
People come through for a few cold waters and a lottery ticket, just a part of the routine, everybodies got a job, everybodies got a dream. They gossip as I sip my coffee and smirk, the first stop as people hop to work.
That's his day really. An endless blur of one dollar, two dollars, one fifty, one sixty-nine, I got it, you want a box of condoms what kind?, that's two quarters, the New York Times, you need a bag for that? The tax is added.
Like he was saying to Miles when he first came into his life, "Once you get some practice at it, you do rapid mathematics automatically."
Miles then comes out of the back, preparing himself to work the counter so Peter could do the coffee's - Peter was the only one who knew the secret recipes that kept the customers coming- successfully snapping him out of his thoughts.
"How are they today?"
"Practically everybody's stressed, but they press through the mess."
Miles nodded.
"You ain't got no skills," a voice said, as they walked into the store.
"Ned!"
Ned smiled, leaning against the counter. Peter and him were best friends growing up, so naturally, Ned was a regular in the shop, despite working long hours for a boss that didn't respect him.
"Yo, let me get a-"
"Milky way?" Peter guessed.
"...Yeah. Let me also get a-"
"Daily news."
"And a-"
"Post."
"And a most importantly, my-"
"Boss' second coffee, one cream, five sugars."
Miles wrinkled his nose at Ned's boss's absurd amount of sugar, and Ned began to talk to Peter about his job while he waited.
"I don't get it! I'm the number one earner! He can't keep me on the damn back burner-"
"Yes he can."
"I'm making moves, and I'm making deals, but guess what?"
"What?"
"Ya still ain't got no skills!"
"Hardee-Har," he said, sarcastically, pouring the creamer in.
"Has Michelle shown up yet?" Ned asked Miles, who was smiling.
"Shut up!" Peter said hastily.
"Hey, dude, don't be upset. You should tell her how you feel. Buy the girl a meal,on the real, or you ain't got no skills."
The doorbell dinged. This is why Peter was so anxious to be talking about Michelle. She normally came in around this time. Right now, she was looking at the ground, phone to her ear.
"Mr. Johnson, I have that security deposit. I've been saving to make a down-payment, and pay rent… no, no, I won't let you down-".
Ned whispered to him, "Here's your chance, ask her out."
"-I'll see you later, we can look at that lease," she said, before hanging up.
"Do something, make your move, don't freeze!"
"Hey," he said, buzzing with nerves.
"You owe me a bottle of cold champagne," she said, her voice soft and soothing. Despite this, her words made a heavy feeling form in his gut. It was something they'd thought about years ago, but only if-
"Are you moving?"
She shrugged, "Just a little credit check and I'm on that downtown train."
He tried to shake off the sad feeling, "Well, your coffee's on the house."
"Okay," she said with a smile, before turning to leave.
"Peter, ask her out."
"No way," Miles said.
But Michelle turned around, "I'll see you later… so…"
And with that, she left.
"Oh, smooth operator, oh damn, there she goes," Ned teased, before taking a look at Peter’s still kinda sad face, "Hey, dude. Take five, get some fresh air, a walk outside. You look exhausted, lost…"
"I kinda feel that way," he joked, but was it a joke?
Ned looked at him with sympathy, "Hey, the whole neighbourhood is struggling, and times are tight, and you're stuck to this corner like a streetlight…"
Ned looked at his watch, and rushed out of the shop, saying he was gonna be late and bidding adieu to the two guys, but Peter could say it back, his friends words bouncing around in his head.
Yeah, I'm a streetlight, choking on the heat. The world spins around while I'm frozen to my seat. The people that I know all keep on rolling down the street, and everyday is different so I'm switching up the beat.
Cause my parents came with nothing, they got a little more, and sure, we're poor, but yo, at least we got the store. It's all about the legacy they left with me, it's destiny, and-
One day, I'll be on the beach with Miles writing checks to me.
That's what he wants to do. His parents died, along with his aunt and uncle, leaving him in the care of Abuela. He longs to go to a beach, and reconnect with his roots. A better life, one where he isn't stuck serving coffee's.
It gets more expensive every day, in their little corner of the world. 
Turn up the stage lights, we're taking a flight to a couple of days of what it's like-
In Washington Heights.
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