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dlwritings · 4 years

Text

Firecracker Soul | Dean Winchester

Chapter 21 - Run Away

pairing - mob!Dean x teacher!ofc

word count - 3,516

warnings - none

additional notes at the end

(previous)

When Alice got to school on Monday, she stopped in the main office to talk to the secretary, Joy. "Hey," she said, giving the lady a smile. "Remember that man who came a few weeks ago? He brought me flowers? Signed in as Dean Winchester?"

"Mhm," Joy hummed, her smile widening. "Handsome guy."

"Yeah," Alice said. "Um, he might try and stop by again. If he does, please don't let him in."

Joy's face changed to an expression of concern. "Is he dangerous?"

"No, no, it's not that," she said. "He just-" She hesitated, then sighed. "We're in the middle of a fight, and I know he might try and come talk to me. I'm just not ready." Joy nodded in understanding and gave Alice a sympathetic smile. Alice thanked her and headed off to her classroom.

There were three sets of doors visitors had to go through before they got into the building. First they had to buzz into the main building and state their business to the camera, then they had to buzz into the office and sign in before they could finally be buzzed into the school itself. Realistically, all a person had to do was say the right thing, and no one would bat an eye. Alice was sure Dean could say, "I'm Alice Berkley's boyfriend, and she's expecting me for a visit," and Joy wouldn't think twice. It wasn't that Joy was dumb at all. Dean was charming and didn't appear threatening, especially since he'd probably been seen around the school before picking up Lexi. If he didn't set off any of the metal detectors, he was just a man with a kind smile and a bouquet of flowers.

Alice made sure Joy knew everyday for over a week not to let Dean in, and Thomas agreed to send her kids off again at the end of the day. She definitely owed him a few favors with everything he had done for her thus far that year.

Over a week had gone by since the party, but Alice still hadn't contacted Dean. He hadn't reached out either. She had no idea if he had been coming to pick Lexi up or not, but he hadn't been texting her. Just like their last fight, she wondered if they were done. Even though she knew this time, she needed to be the one to reach out, she couldn't get herself to do it. Every time she considered picking up her phone, she would picture Dean throwing a punch at Jaden, and she would set it down again.

She was sitting at her desk, looking over the kids' spelling tests, when there was a knock at her door frame. She looked up and saw Thomas. "Hi," she said with a small smile and a sigh. "Thanks for taking the kids out again."

He chuckled. "You don't have to thank me every time."

"I know, I know," she said. "I just appreciate it." Thomas nodded and walked into the room, propping himself up against one of the tables.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I'm fine."

"Ah, ah," he said, holding his hand up. "Remember, my daughter's your age. I've heard the I'm fine lie enough to sniff it out." Alice scoffed and shook her head.

"Just petty boyfriend troubles," she said, "and I'm not good at confrontation."

"You plan on hiding in here forever?" he asked.

"Can I?" she asked with a sad smile.

He scoffed. "I'm afraid not."

Alice slammed her head against the keyboard which made Thomas laugh again. "Why didn't you ever set me up with your son?" Alice asked him, looking up at him.

"Ah, that would be because he's gay," Thomas said.

"Right," she said with a nod. "Small detail."

Thomas smiled. "So how'd the fella do you wrong?"

She sighed. "He's just a jealous guy. I'm trying to go easy on him. He hasn't had the greatest life, and I think he's just afraid of losing people. In fact, I know he is. I just wish he could express himself in a way that wasn't so aggressive." Quickly, she added, "He doesn't hit me or anything. He never would. He just-" She sighed again. "He's really complicated."

"Well," Thomas said, standing up from the table he was perched on and walking over to her. He clapped her on the shoulder. "If true love was easy, we'd all have it."

Those were the words that kept running through Alice's head that night. If true love was easy, we'd all have it. If this was what love was like, she wasn't sure she wanted it. Being with Dean was fun, and most of the time he was sweet and caring, but the few times that he wasn't were what she didn't want. Was she not deserving of a healthy, normal relationship? Had Christine been right all along? Was Dean textbook toxic? Had she just been blind to his charm? Was it inevitable that he would end up hurting her?

On Tuesday, Alice was sitting in her classroom after school again when there was another knock at her door. She looked up, expecting it to be Thomas. Instead, it was Jess and Lexi. "Hey," Jess said, giving Alice a smile.

She sighed. "Hey."

"Don't look so thrilled to see me," Jess teased.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, standing up and walking over to Jess. She pulled her in for a hug.

"Lexi, you wanna go play while me and Ms. Alice talk?" Jess asked her.

"Can't I listen to big girl talk?" she pouted.

"Mm, not today, sweetie," Jess said, kissing her daughter on the head.

"You can go grab your chromebook if you want," Alice offered. "Watch some videos." Lexi nodded and did as Alice suggested. Alice knew she'd grab headphones, which meant she could talk to Jess without any fear of Lexi overhearing.

"Talk to me," Jess urged her, pulling up one of the adult-sized chairs to sit beside Alice. "I only heard that Bobby had to pull Dean off of Jaden."

Alice explained what had led up to Dean's outburst, and Jess sighed when she finished. "I'm sorry," she said. "I get why you're mad."

Alice sighed and asked the question she had been mulling over for a while. "Was he like this with Lisa?" Jess looked at her and sighed as well.

"No," she said. "Not really."

"Then why is he like this with me?" she huffed. "I don't understand."

"Well, you're not Lisa," she said. "He's not going to treat you like you are."

"But why does he have to baby me?" she asked. "If it's because of our age difference-" She hesitated. "-I need to know if that's something he's ever going to get over. Because I can't do this forever."

"He just wants to keep you safe," Jess said. "Try to go easy on him."

"I won't let him keep beating people up to protect me," she said, putting quotes around the last two words. "I'm done with men who think violence is essential in a relationship." Jess was quiet, and Alice ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "Jess, do you think he'll ever hurt me?" she whispered.

"No," Jess said without hesitation. "Never. Don't think like that."

"I can't help it," Alice sighed. "I'm so-" She paused. "Dean knows how bad my last relationship was, but he still does the things he does. I don't want to be afraid of him, but-"

"You should talk to him about this," Jess said. "If he knew you felt this way-"

"What about that fight we had at your house?" she said. "It was over the same thing. The whole Brent thing, remember? It was the same thing. I told him I didn't like how possessive he was, but it didn't phase him. So he knows, but he doesn't care."

"I'm sure he cares," Jess said. "Dean's just-"

"Complicated," she finished. "I know."

"I'm not saying how he acts is justifiable," Jess said.

"No, I know," Alice said. With another sigh, she added, "I just want him to understand what he's done and why I feel how I do and say he's sorry."

"I know," Jess said. "I understand."

Dean was alone at home taking a sip of yet another glass of whiskey when his phone rang. The sun had already set, but it wasn't too late yet. Still, he was a little surprised to see it was Jess. Jess didn't call him very often. If he did, it was almost always related to Lexi. He picked up quickly. "Hey," he said. "Is everything okay?"

"Depends on your definition," Jess said on the other end.

"What does that mean?" Dean asked, leaning back on the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew this tone of voice. He was in for a lecture.

"I just saw Alice," she said. He sat up a little straighter.

"Where?" he asked.

"I picked Lexi up," she said. "They let me in."

"Of course they did," he muttered. "She must have me on some no-fly list."

"Because you scared her, Dean," Jess said. "She's not ready to face you yet."

"God, I know I messed up," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'm just working on how I can make it better."

"I get it," Jess said. "Just know that I think she's ready to talk to you, but you're probably going to have to be the one to initiate it."

When Dean got off the phone with Jess, he finished off his glass of whiskey and sighed. He was sorry. He really was. All he needed was a big, grand gesture to prove it to her.

And so, the wheels started turning.

On Friday, Alice got home after school and checked her mail. She didn't have anything in the box, but there was a package with her name on it on the ground. She furrowed her eyebrows and picked it up, searching for the address label. There was none. While she knew that probably should've raised a few red flags, she took the box anyway and headed up stairs.

She crossed into the threshold and dropped her keys and the box on the counter. She slowly started to open it and found a black jumpsuit and a pair of wedged sandals. There was a handwritten note on top of the shoes:

I know you're mad at me, but please be ready by 7:00. I swear I'll make it worth your while x

Alice pressed her lips into a tight line and dropped the note. Was she ready for whatever Dean had planned? Was she ready to face him again? The reality was, she couldn't ignore him forever.

When 7:00 rolled around, Alice was ready. Dean buzzed into her apartment, and she let him in. She paced back and forth, unable to stop herself from chewing on her thumbnail. Why was she so nervous? This was her boyfriend. This was Dean.

Dean knocked at her door, and she took a deep breath before opening it. He looked as handsome as ever: black slacks and a white button-up. In his hands was a bouquet of roses. "Hi," he said, giving her a smile.

"Hi," she said.

"These are for you," he said, handing her the bouquet.

"Thank you," she whispered. "They're beautiful." She stepped back into the apartment to put the flowers on the counter, then turned back to face him.

"Ready?" she said.

"Mhm," he hummed. He stuck his arm out for her to take, and she did. It was a little chillier outside than she expected, but she knew they would be in the car so she didn't really mind. Dean opened the door to the Impala for her, and she thanked him and slid inside. While she would normally slide as close to Dean as she could in the front bench seat, she stayed respectfully on her side.

Dean noticed but stayed silent, though his heart did break at the sight.

"So," Alice said, clearing her throat as Dean put the car in drive, "where are we going?"

"Come on," he teased. "It's always a surprise."

"Right," she whispered, staring out the windshield. She fiddled with her hands on her lap, and Dean sighed as quietly as he could.

This would be okay. They would be okay.

Dean turned on his music, and Alice's eyebrows furrowed when she recognized the tune. "Is this Ben Platt?" she asked. She leaned forward and turned up the volume slightly, hoping to catch the words of the tune.

You say there's so much you don't know. You need to go and find yourself. You say you'd rather be alone. Cuz you think you won't find it tied to someone else.

"Yeah," Dean said, a small smile growing on his face. "I thought I'd make a cassette."

"Of Ben Platt songs?" she asked. Dean shrugged but didn't say anything. Alice looked over at him and studied his profile. The sun had already set, so she could only make out little things, like his sparkling eyes and the slight glisten of his lips after he ran his tongue across them. The length of his stubble made her want to reach out and touch him, just like she always did. She held back though and forced herself to stare out the windshield again.

Alice was surprised when they pulled up to Dean's apartment. Still, she got out of the car when Dean opened the door for her. He put his arm around her waist and smiled to himself when she didn't jump away. "You gonna tell me what we're doing yet?" she asked as they walked towards the elevator. She gave Derek a smile as they passed, which he returned. As they waited for the elevator, Dean stood in front of her.

"I want you to see how much I care about you," he said, "and that I feel terrible about what happened at the party." Alice hung her head, but Dean lifted her chin. "I do," he pressed.

"'S okay," she mumbled.

"No, it's not," he said. The elevator dinged, and Dean put his hand on the small of her back and guided her in. "So I thought I would bring in a little surprise."

"Bring in?" she repeated.

"Mhm," he hummed. He pressed the button to the rooftop terrace and swiped his card to get access. She looked at him with raised eyebrows, but he just smiled.

When the doors opened, Alice could hear another familiar tune playing. They rounded the corner, and she froze at the sight in front of her. It was a small stage -nothing too fancy- and a group of people on stage with one man standing front and center. "Dean," she whispered, unable to get her feet to move. "Is that-"

"Welcome to your personal Ben Platt concert," he whispered in her ear. She looked up at him with a dropped jaw before a guitar started to play on the stage. She laughed in disbelief and ran over to the stage.

Ben smiled at her. "Hey, Alice," he said into the microphone. "How's it going?"

"It's-" She laughed again. "It's great now!"

He laughed as well. "Alright, well let's do this."

The concert was so great. Ben would stop in between songs to chat for a while, occasionally asking if she had any requests. Every time, she just told him to play whatever he was planning next. She didn't stand up and dance at all, but she bounced in her seat and sang along to every word to every song. Ben was an amazing performer, and for that whole time, she forgot why she had ever been mad at Dean in the first place.

When Ben started to play the last song, Dean stood up from the couch and held his hand out to her. "Dance with me," he said.

Just like that, her perfect bubble popped, and she remembered why they were fighting. Still, she nodded and took his hand.

Dean wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close to his body. He laced his fingers with hers, and she rested her head on his chest and her free arm over his shoulder, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Ben's voice filled the space around them, and Alice closed her eyes, trying to stay in the moment and not overthink everything that had happened the past few days.

I may not be wise, and I won't save the day, but look in my eyes, and know I'll always stay. And I won't run away.

As soon as Ben finished the song, Alice broke out into cheers and applause. Ben laughed and put his hands together, bowing in a silent thank you. Alice looked at Dean. "Could you go get me some water?" she asked him. "I want to go talk to Ben."

He smiled. "Course, sweetheart." He kissed the top of her head, and she whispered a thank you. As soon as he was out of earshot, she walked over to Ben.

"Hi," she said. "It's so great to meet you. You were incredible."

"Thank you," Ben said. He offered her a hug, which she accepted. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked behind her to make sure Dean hadn't come back yet.

"Can I ask you something?" she whispered.

"Sure," Ben said.

"You don't know Dean, do you?" she asked. He shook his head no. "So did he just, like, pay you a lot to be here?" Ben hesitated. "I won't be offended or anything. I'm just curious." Her eyes grew wide for a moment. "Oh my god, did he threaten you?"

"No, no," Ben laughed. "No. You were right the first time. He offered a pretty big hunk of money."

Alice nodded and thanked him again just as Dean brought her some water. Within the hour, Ben and his band were all packed up, and Alice and Dean were alone at the apartment. They stayed on the terrace, cuddled up with each other, staring at the sky. Alice didn't know what to say to him. What he had done was sweet, but it didn't solve the real problem at hand. She needed to get her feelings out, and she wasn't sure Dean was going to be the one to say anything.

Just when she got up the nerve to say something, Dean turned her chin so she was looking at him. He leaned forward and tried to kiss her, but she pulled away, and he hung his head and sighed. "How are you still mad at me?" he asked. Her lips parted in shock as she shook her head and stood up from the couch.

"I knew it!" she said.

"Knew what?" Dean asked.

"You think the normal way to make up after a fight is to do something like this?" she said. "Bribing my favorite artist into performing for me? That's not normal, Dean!"

"God, again with the normal thing," Dean said with a slight roll of his eyes.

"You're really going to roll your eyes at me?" she said.

"Are you saying you didn't like the concert?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm not saying I didn't like it," she huffed. "It was a private concert by Ben Platt, of course I liked it."

"Then I don't understand-"

"Exactly!" she shouted. "You don't understand! You don't understand how a normal relationship works! You think you can solve every problem with money or, or sex or murder! It's just, it's too much, Dean."

"So what are you trying to say?" he asked.

"Nothing!" she said. "I'm not-" She groaned and threw her hands in the air. "I just wish you could be normal! I wish this could be normal! I wish-" She sighed. "I just wish I could be in a relationship that made sense."

"So what, are we breaking up?" he said.

"We're-" She rubbed her forehead and hesitated. "We're taking a break, okay? I need a break. I can't do this right now." She grabbed her bag and started to walk to the elevator.

"Alice," Dean said. "Come on." Alice didn't say anything as the elevator opened. She knew if he really wanted to follow her, he would. And as the doors closed behind her, she realized he didn't.

Tears started to fall from her eyes as she called an Uber. It was there within five minutes. In that time, Dean never came down to talk to her.

Did she really just walk away from that relationship?

Dean rubbed his face with his hand in frustration. Okay. So that didn't work. He was running through every moment of the night. Alice seemed to have been enjoying herself. He was sure it was all okay. What had he missed? Now, was it his place to reach out to her again? Was the ball back in her court?

Did he really just let her walk away from that relationship?

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A/N - when I wrote this I had just watched Ben Platt’s Netflix concert (it’s so good don’t even start with me) so if ya’ll don’t listen to him you’re missing out for real

(next)

series masterlist found here

general masterlist found here

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#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x ofc #original female character #ofc #supernatural #supernatural au #mob!dean #mob au #mafia au #dean winchester angst #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #firecracker soul

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magdaclaire · 5 years

Note

24 - “I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority.” with Winteriron?? 👀 Many please an' thank (Bonus points if Bucky says the quote) Ayyy

Thank you for the prompt, Z! You get a teenage, LDR winteriron that happens to be a Winteriron Bingo fill for me! Thank you for that, my friend!

Hope you enjoy - it’s well over a thousand words, so most of it is going under the cut!

Bucky is the first person to say that he’s a dumb, gay bitch. Well, he’s a dumb, bi bitch, but the integral parts are that he is really fucking stupid and loves boys. Well, one boy in particular, right now. He knows that he’s stupid as he writes what he’s writing, as he makes what he’s making, but he doesn’t care.

It’s 11:57pm, May 28th, Eastern Standard time. In three minutes, in Bucky’s time zone at least, it will be Tony’s birthday. Even though it’s another three hours until it’s time for Tony’s birthday in California, Bucky doesn’t give a fuck. Celebrating International Tony Reallyveryintelligent’s Day is an all day activity, and the day starts at midnight. It started a couple of weeks ago, really, but that doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t know Tony’s last name, but he’s still one of the best friends that Bucky has ever had. Tony likely won’t see whatever Bucky posts about him until well into tomorrow - his dad is hosting some big party for the ‘event’ that Tony had scoffed at through numerous text messages, dreading his own birthday like most kids did the dentist. Bucky had coaxed him into being at least excited to talk to Bucky the night of; Tony’s parents (bastards) leave for a cruise tomorrow at three PST, which means that Tony will want to be in voice chat at about 3:15. Bucky has already begged off of family dinner for tomorrow, and he’s real lucky that his mom understands the importance of friends, even the ones online.

So, with all of this planned out, one could imagine Bucky’s surprise when his Discord starts ringing in a call at 12:01am, Eastern Standard, right after he’s posted his birthday post for Tony, and it’s not even a voice call but a video call, from Tony himself. Tony who never video calls. Tony who never sends selfies. Tony who is so shy about his appearance that Bucky has only ever seen pictures of his hands, or of his designs, never of Tony’s face. Bucky confirms the call and pauses his Spotify, placing his full attention with his Discord and the fuzzy video picture that’s getting less fuzzy by the second. When he can see clearly, Bucky nearly chokes on his own spit.

Tony looks a little younger than seventeen. He has bright eyes with bags beneath them, but his face is so baby soft that he looks about fourteen, tops. He’s got a sweet curve to his mouth that says that he smiles a lot, but a sadness in his eyes that says it’s not always real. His nose is rounded at the tip, not big and not small, but perfect for his face. The arch of his eyebrows is expressive, and, all together, his Tony is a very pretty young man. However, there are two things that are most important. The first, less important thing is that Bucky’s Tony is Tony Stark, heir to Stark Industries and son of Howard Stark, one of the richest men in America. More importantly, secondly, his Tony is crying. At least, he has been crying, even if he’s trying to cover it up, Bucky can see the redness around his eyes, the tear tracks he hasn’t properly wiped away.

“Tony, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Bucky says, dropping sweetheart immediately even if he’s never been brave enough to call his friend that before, even in voice call. Tony is smiling through his tears in a way that looks like he’s happily swallowing knives, or something to that effect. Bucky wants to crawl through the screen just to hold him, a desire that he has had before, even in the beginning when they were only talking through tumblr DMs. Tony hiccups, and then he speaks, and he’s so goddamn pretty, even when he’s crying.

“Hey Buckaroo. What’s up?” Tony asks, changing the subject like he always does when he’s upset (Bucky had to wrangle exactly how bad Tony’s dad is through several days of what felt like careful espionage, and he’s still not sure he knows the worst of it). He wants to hold Tony, card metal fingers through his hair, whisper to him and tell him that he’s alright, that he’s good, and that he’s worth everything Bucky wants to give him.

“Back track, honey, I need you to tell me what’s up. I thought you were at a party tonight, Tones. What happened? Can you tell me? For me?” Bucky coaxes softly, and it’s a low blow, but whatever it takes, after all. Tony doesn’t like to put things on other people, so it’s better if it’s for Bucky’s sake; Tony knows that his friend will worry, will internalize it and blow it up, will think about it for days. Instead, Tony sighs.

“Howard,” Tony says, which is what he always calls his father when the man isn’t in the room (other than dear old dad, which gives Bucky just as much of a bad feeling), and sighs again, “decided I was a disappointment again tonight. He said a lot of shit to me, in front of a lot of people, and managed to make it seem completely kosher. So, once again, I’m the rebellious shit kicker, and Howard comes out smelling like roses. It’s… god, it’s fucking bullshit.” Tony finishes with something that sounds like it starts as a laugh and ends as a sob, and Bucky winces. He doesn’t know how to comfort this, how to make it better, how to help at all, and he feels like such a piece of shit.

“Check your @ mentions on tumblr,” he blurts, and Tony tilts his head and he looks so cute and Bucky wants to die. “Just… check your @ mentions. Please,” Bucky repeats, more confident this time, and Tony takes the distraction. He clicks out of the window he has Discord in, and Bucky can see him dragging the little box that has the video feed of Bucky in it, which just makes him smile. Tony is real cute, after all. He watches as Tony scrolls through things, and sees him see what Bucky posted.

“Snowflake, what is this?” Tony asks, and the use of the nickname makes Bucky’s stomach drop out with butterflies like it does every time. It’s another story for another time, how Bucky got that nickname, but he thinks he would hate it if it came from anyone else. Bucky scrubs his metal hand on the back of his neck, giving Tony a shy smile.

“A moodboard for you… and a fic for McKirk, maybe dedicated to you?” Bucky replies, biting his lip. He knows it’s a lot, but… it’s what Tony deserves. Star Trek is the fandom that made the two of them friends after all, a shared love of McKirk and a quiet respect for Spock that sometimes extended to shipping McSpirk or just Spirk but. Well. McKirk is special, because they’ve agreed that Tony is the Kirk type, suave and sunshine, while Bucky is more of a McCoy, gruff and reining Tony in, and. There’s something he wrote into Kirk’s character that will make it special for Tony, and there’s a reference in McCoy’s character that makes it specific and well… Bucky projected them onto McKirk, okay? He can admit that.

“You,” Tony says, cracking his first genuine smile of the call, “are a menace.” He only says that when Bucky does things that he thinks are too nice, and Bucky wants to do a hundred nice things. He watches as Tony reads over the fic (Tony once tried to explain how fast he reads to Bucky, saying things like twelve hundred words a minute and choking on a blush that Bucky could hear through the mic, and Bucky had just put him out of his misery by saying “so, fast, right?” which Tony had laughed at), and knows when he reaches the part that reads as too much. Kirk is trans and McCoy has a metal prosthetic and Tony looks at him like he hung the moon and Bucky is halfway in love with a boy three thousand miles away.

“So… what did you think?” he asks after a few moments of silence, biting down hard on his lip. Tony stares at the box version of him hard, which Bucky almost feels as if it’s burning through his skin.

“I just… Why? This must have been so much work, Bucky. And… exactly at 9? So… midnight for you? Exactly? Bucky,” Tony says, choking on his words, and Bucky wants to hold him.

“I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority,” he says honestly, deep and almost growling in the way that he knows Tony likes based off of the way that it has inspired silence before, and Tony’s looking at him. Bucky wants him to look for the rest of forever and maybe keep looking.

“You’re perfect. Did you know that? You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met,” Tony tells him, and then Bucky is choking on a blush and Tony is looking like that cat that caught the canary. Bucky recollects himself.

“I think that’s you, sugar. No matter what Howard says, no matter what anyone ever fuckin’ says, you are the most perfect person in the world, I promise you that. You are perfect,” Bucky emphasizes, going from teasing to imploring, and Tony freezes.

“I think I like you more than I planned,” the Californian admits, word vomiting, and Bucky sighs in relief.

“I’m damn glad. I’ve been likin’ you more than I planned for months. I know we’re far away, but… would you maybe like to… go together? Be mine?” Bucky asks stiltedly, feeling panic in his lungs even when Tony admitted himself first, because the idea that Tony wants him back is otherworldly. Tony nods.

“Be mine, Valentine. I’m Tony Stark, I’m seventeen, I live in Malibu, and I’m about to graduate with my second doctorate, looking for a college to get my third. I really like this really great guy who has these really pretty blue eyes that I’ve just been staring at in his selfies for the longest time,” Tony says, giving him that ‘suave’ smirk that’s been so rumored, and Bucky loves it. He smiles back.

“I’m Bucky Barnes. I’m eighteen, I’m going to college at NYU this June for engineering, I live in a shit neighborhood in Brooklyn with my best friend Steve. I like this real great fella named Tony with these big brown eyes that I’m just seein’ for the first time today, but I’d sure love to see them a lot from now on,” Bucky flirts back, and Tony flushes, dark red taking over his olive toned skin. Then, Tony seems to be thinking for a moment, biting his lip.

“Speaking of New York… I’m coming to tour Columbia next month, and I haven’t booked a hotel yet… Think you could help me find somewhere to crash?” Tony asks, wording it vaguely, but Bucky can read between the lines. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest.

“It’s a date,” he says.

#winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #winter soldier #iron man #mine #ldr #long distance relationship #teen!winteriron #trashcanakin

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poppinsx · 5 years

Text

a comprehsive list of the best lyrics in each taylor swift song (my opinions <3) since fearless:

jump then fall: but i’ll hold you through the night until you smile

untouchable: untouchable like a distant diamond sky

come in with the rain: i know you by heart, and you don’t even know where i start

superstar: i’m invisible and everyone knows who you are

other side of the door: and the faded picture of a beautiful night

fearless: you take my hand and drag me head first, fearless

fifteen: when you’re fifteen and your first kiss makes your head spin ‘round (how did she know!!)

love story: i was a scarlet letter

hey stephen: all the other girls, well, they’re beautiful, but would they write a song for you?

white horse: this is a big world, that was a small town

you belong with me: i know your favorite songs and you tell be ‘bout your dreams

breathe: but it’s killing me to see you go after all this time

tell me why: why do you have to make me feel small so you can feel whole inside?

you’re not sorry: and you got your share of secrets and i’m tired of being last to know

the way i loved you: and my heart’s not breaking cause i’m not feeling anything at all

forever & always: were you just kidding?

the best day: don’t know if snow white’s house is near or far away

change: it’s hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

mine: braced myself for the goodbye ‘cause that’s all i’ve ever known

sparks fly: my mind forgets to remind me, you’re a bad idea

back to december: it turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

speak now: i lose myself in a daydream

dear john: i lived in your chess game but you changed the rules everyday

mean: you have pointed out my flaws again as if i don’t already see them

the story of us: you held your pride like you should’ve held me

never grow up: remember that she’s getting older too

enchanted: my thoughts will echo your name until i see you again

better than revenge: no amount of vintage dresses gives you dignity

innocent: today is never too late to be brand new

haunted: something keeps me holding onto nothing

last kiss: i never planned on you changing your mind // i’ll watch your life in pictures like i used to watch you sleep and i’ll feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe (this song is too much of a masterpiece to choose)

long live: i had the time of my life fighting dragons with you

state of grace: we learned to live with the pain, mosaic broken hearts

red: moving on from him is impossible when i still see it all in my head

treacherous: i can’t decide if it’s a choice getting swept away

ikywt: and the saddest fear comes creeping in, that you never loved me

all too well: you call me up again just be break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest (naturally)

22: it’s miserable and magical

i almost do: i can’t say hello to you and risk another goodbye

wanegbt: this is exhausting (hehe)

stay stay stay: you took the time to memorize me

the last time: all roads, they lead me here

holy ground: for the first time, i had something to lose

sad beautiful tragic: you’ve got you demons and darling they all look like me // silence, train runs off its tracks

the lucky one: you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used

everything has changed: all i know is pouring rain

starlight: we could get married, have ten kids, and teach them how to dream

begin again: thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

welcome to new york: kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats under coats

blank space: stolen kisses, pretty lies

style: could end in burning flames of paradise

out of the woods: the rest of the world was black and white but we were in screaming color

ayhtdws: i’ve been picking up the pieces of the mess you made

shake it off: and to the fella over there with the hella good hair

i wish you would: i wish you knew that i miss you too much to be mad anymore

bad blood: bandaids don’t fix bullet holes

wildest dreams: someday when you leave me i bet these memories follow you around

how you get the girl: i want you for worse or for better

this love: this love left a permanent mark

i know places: love’s a fragile little flame, it could burn out

clean: just because you’re clean don’t mean you don’t miss it

ready for it: burton to this taylor

end game: your handprint’s on my soul

i did something bad: you gotta leave before you get left

don’t blame me: i would fall from grace just to touch your face

delicate: are you ever dreaming of me?

look what you made me do: i’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams

so it goes: you did a number on me but honestly baby, who’s counting?

gorgeous: whiskey on ice, sunset and vine

getaway car: but with three of us, honey, it’s a sideshow

king of my heart: say you fancy me, not fancy stuff

dancing with our hands tied: i’m the mess that you wanted

dress: even in my worst of times, you could see the best in me

tiwwchnt: feeling so gatsby for that whole year (bonus points for the haha i can’t even say it with a straight face)

call it what you want: i brought a knife to a gun fight

new year’s day: please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize anywhere

i forgot that you existed: it isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it’s just indifference

cruel summer: he looks up grinning like a devil (!!)

lover: with every guitar string scar on my hand

the man: they wouldn’t shake their heads and question how much of this i deserve

the archer: i’ve got a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you

i think he knows: lyrical smile, indigo eyes

miss americana: american glory faded before me

paper rings: the moon is high like your friends were the night that we first met

cornelia street: that's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend

death by a thousand cuts: but if the story’s over, why am i still writing pages?

london boy: don’t threaten me with a good time (also the intro, ofc)

soon you’ll get better: desperate people find faith, so now i pray to Jesus too

false god: you’re the west village

you need to calm down: shade never made anybody less gay!

afterglow: fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

me: i know i never think before i jump

it’s nice to have a friend: you’ve been stressed out lately, yeah, me too

daylight: the luck of the draw only draws the unlucky

(update 1/14/21)

the 1: you know the greatest loves of all time are over now

cardigan: trying to change the ending, peter losing wendy

the last great american dynasty: and in a feud with her neighbor, she stole his dog and dyed it a key-lime green

exile: you never gave a warning sign/i gave so many signs

my tears ricochet: when you can’t sleep at night, you hear my stolen lullabies

mirrorball: the masquerade revelers

seven: please picture me in the weeds before i learned civility

august: you weren’t mine to lose (but also, just the entire song)

this is me trying: you’re a flashback in a film reel

illicit affairs: a dwindling mercurial high

invisible string: one single thread of gold tied me to you

mad woman: it’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together

epiphany: sir, i think he’s bleeding out

betty: i don’t know anything, but i know i miss you

peace: all these people think love’s for show, but i would die for you in secret

hoax: you knew you won so what’s the point of keeping score?

the lakes: i want auroras and sad prose

willow: life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

champagne problems: she would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head

gold rush: at dinner parties i call you out on your contrarian shit

tis the damn season: to leave the warmest bed i’ve ever known

tolerate it: i know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it

no body, no crime: good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy (honorable mention to the way taylor says “just” in “she thinks i did it but she just can’t prove it)

happiness: i hope she’ll be a beautiful fool

dorothea: you’re a queen selling dreams, selling makeup and magazines

coney island: do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

ivy: your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

cowboy like me: forever is the sweetest con

long story short: long story short, i survived

marjorie: you loved the amber skies so much

closure: i’m fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles

evermore: barefoot in the wildest winter

right where you left me: she’s still twenty-three inside her fantasy

it’s time to go: that old familiar body ache that snaps from the same little breaks in your soul

#taylor swift #red #speak now #reputation #1989 #fearless #lover #folklore #evermore #this took me longer than it should have

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vaguely-concerned · 5 years

Text

SO I DID GET TO SEE GOOD OMENS AND TL;DR IT WAS EXCELLENT, I AM EUPHORIC

more thoughts and spoilers under the cut!

the FUCK YEEEEEEEAAAAAHs:

- mr gaiman you did it you made it even gayer I never even believed it was possible what is this 6000 years pining slowburn nonsense

*ahem* to be more serious about it I loved that the show takes the emotional throughlines from the book and somehow both heightens and deepens them.

- it really is phenomenally faithful to the book and the stuff it adds is mostly a m a z i n g. it kept me perfectly engaged despite me knowing what like 75% of the dialogue was going to be

- david tennant doesn’t quite go for the same energy as how I imagine crowley in the book -- in my head he’s more... idk how to explain it but the vibe is more someone grinning a bright fixed ‘this is totally my suave face’ grin while clearly continually going ‘oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck’ internally haha, to me he’s slightly less... mercurial? trying to play his cards closer to the chest? but you know what show!crowley is fucking hilarious too and I do like what they’ve done with him being less of an optimist at the core and more enjoying the world through his connection with aziraphale -- the sense of underlying loneliness you get in some places in the book has really been dialed up, he just wants a friend :( (which incidentally seems to be part of the reason he fe -- sauntered vaguely downwards too; he mostly wanted to hang out with someone, and today he still doesn’t really fit in with either the angels or the demons)

- I can’t believe they managed to capture the feeling of ‘Under the ash and soot that flaked his face, he looked very tired, and very pale, and very scared’ on screen; it’s one of the moments of the book that really stuck with me and it worked so well here too, especially since the fallout of the situation stays with him longer

- this version of aziraphale is just. so lovely. so so good, literal precious angel who almost got his head cut off for crepes, I totally see why crowley persevered through the ages and his own intimacy issues, good call my friend. thank you michael sheen, every time this character showed up on screen I was filled with joy and delight

- I’m completely undone by how incredibly mutual their friendship is in this -- despite crowley being the more active in asking for connection it’s obvious all the way through how much aziraphale genuinely adores him and enjoys his company (even though he knows he shouldn’t and so continually needs to give himself some plausible deniability)

when aziraphale’s voice breaks as he’s like ‘don’t go’ after they’ve argued in the park and he’s just tried to pretend they’re not even friends? hahahahahahaha ouch my fucking heart

- sister mary loquacious was the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life, give that actress all the roles she’s got the charisma of the gods

- “not only a southern pansy, sergeant -- the southern pansy” got through and it was glorious (ditto shadwell’s naming schemes, I for sure thought that wouldn’t be mentioned but it’s so incredibly funny)

- crowley repeatedly and openly just... begging aziraphale to go off to the stars with him what the fick-freckedy-fuck

- Of the horsemen Pollution was my absolute fave (so cool and unsettling and nonbinary rep!!!!!!! also they feel like the youngest horseman in such a deep way, every credit to the actress that was great) and I really enjoyed the twist on Famine, making him seem more intense and hungry himself as part of his nature as opposed to in the book where he’s basically like... diet vetinari lol

- G A B R I E L he was so perfectly awful... absolutely no redeeming features whatsoever he’s just a piece of shit all the way through and John Hamm was clearly having the time of his life with it and I too was living

- crowley crying in the bar because he lost his best friend and there’s no point to even try to run away anymore if he’s alone, he’s just waiting for the end of the world ;____________________________________________________; what an addition, such a thoughtful way to steer his character arc, wonderful, spectacular

in the book it’s more about him finding his way through the fear and desperation and having lost everything back to his core ‘actually... fuck this there’s no situation I can’t snake my way out of let’s goooooooooo’ self, which is admittedly really cool and satisfying, but it feels like a shallower thing than finally reaching a point where he can no longer pretend he doesn’t care or doesn’t want things. (also... the way his will to live reignites the moment aziraphale needs him fjskadlfhaskdhfksldhfslkahdf “I’ll come find you” INDEED fjksdafhsdlfhsdalfh)

- also a nice tiny change: the implication that reason he can drive the bentley through the flames is that he loves that car so fucking much, he’s invested so much of himself and his emotions in it over many years, like a sort of microcosm of how he feels about the actual world (and specifically humanity’s presence in it) that produced it

- the child actors were uniformly precious, and the kid who played adam got me right in the feelings. the sort of comedic sociopathy of kids thing going on in the book is downplayed, which means I was feeling all the more protective of this sweet sweet kid who just loves his dog and his friends and fjsdfklasjkh

- *sigh* my embarrassing crush on david tennant has been lying dormant these last few years, simply waiting for its chance to rise from the depths like a kraken yet again, and I am slightly unsettled that what really made it surface this time was him dressed up as evil Mary Poppins + the bathing suit, socks included. ah well the heart uh wants what it wants I guess

- crowley is awfully quick to suggest child murder for someone who’s blatantly not willing to harm a hair on a kid’s head himself lawl the two of them just juggling the ‘but maybe you could like... quickly murder him so we could avoid all this???’ ball back and forth before madame tracy finally knocks some sense into them

- the actress for madame tracy did such an amazing job that I literally forgot aziraphale wasn’t actually possessing her, ART

- fellas... is it gay to blow up a bunch of nazis for your ~*best friend*~ and save his books while actualfax romantic music swells in the background... asking for a friend

- “anywhere you want to go” :):):):) oh no

- to be Sad at you for a second here... why the fuck did aziraphale immediately assume crowley wanted the holy water to use it on himself? is there like. a story here we don’t know. is this the fallout of going to check wtf the spanish inquisition was all about. I’m almost afraid to ask

- to be even Sadder: that ‘For Terry’ made me cry and I’m not ashamed to admit it

the awwww... okay I guess you can’t have EVERYTHINGs:

- the scene where crowley and aziraphale get wasted together after the antichrist is delivered is not quite as funny as it is in my head, but then I don’t think anything in the physical world could be as funny as the way I imagine them just like somberly leaning over the table at each other with little regard for personal space and drunkenly expounding on dolphins, so I’ll forgive it

- CGI satan was completely unnecessary and not even very well designed *shrug emoji* the whole point of that scene is that we never get to see him, just the mounting dread as he’s getting closer, and then the wordless reveal of who Adam considers to be his dad and that’s all that matters and even the devil is powerless against it... loved the ~*godfathers*~ giving a little literal angel/devil on my shoulder pep talk, tho, that was incredibly sweet

- ...the maggots huh neil. couldn’t leave them out huh. what a world it would be if we didn’t get to see a bunch of people get eaten by a writhing roomful of maggots huh.

- ETA: actually one more: I refuse to accept this version of DEATH, hashtag not my reaper

#good omens #good omens spoilers #*sigh* my brain is tired from being excited but that's kind of fine #I'm sure this is not very coherent but well I don't feel all that coherent haha

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chocomintdrops · 6 years

Text

I just finish chapter six!

Chapter six: Stan feelings.

In Kyle’s room, Kyle was standing next to his bed when Kenny appears on his window, dressed as Mysterion.

Kyle: Jesus dude! You scared me…wait why are you dressed like this?

Mysterion: My sister had some trouble today.

Kyle: Oh make sense.

Mysterion: So, what was so urgent?

Kyle siting on his bed: Is Stan, all this date thing confused him, now he said he want kiss a boy.

Mysterion gets close to Kyle: So?

Kyle: So? So he confused me too.

Mysterion: How?

Kyle: Maybe I also want to kiss a boy now.

Mysterion surprised: Wow Kyle are you serious?

Kyle: Yes.

Mysterion: Well, I know Cartman made people think that you are gay but I never believe this could be true.

Kyle: Yes, I know. I was sure about my sexuality still you guys start this.

Mysterion: Hey, I never said I was straight.

Kyle: Oh, that is true.

Mysterion: So what you want to do about it?

Kyle: I don’t know dude.

Mysterion: All right dude, I need to get back now…

Kyle interrupts: WAIT!

Mysterion: You still need me?

Kyle embarrassed: Yes I need to ask you a favor.

Mysterion: Ok dude, anything for you.

Kyle: Yes… I need you to….kiss…me.

Mysterion: Are you fucking serious?

Kyle: Please Kenny I can’t ask anyone else.

Mysterion: You lose your fucking mind? I am with Cartman now, I can’t cheat on him.

Kyle: I am not asking you to cheat on Cartman, is only a favor not a date.

Mysterion: Ok, but if you say something to anyone I don’t will be our friend anymore.

Kyle: I won’t tell anyone dude, I promise.

The boys come close to each other and share a small and quick kiss.

Mysterion: So? Are you still straight?

Kyle processing what happen: Yeah, I think I am.

Mysterion: Nice dude, now I will go back, see you tomorrow.

Kyle: See you tomorrow.

Kenny jump from the window and despair in the dark, Kyle simple go to sleep. The boys now only will meet again in the next morning in the school.

On the next morning, butters is putting some books on his locker when he see a familiar face.

Butters: Oh Bradley! We don’t see each other since the camp! What bring you here?

The shy boy run to his friend.

Bradley biting his nails: Thank God you are here Butters, I being transferred to this school, I am a little nervous, I don’t know anyone!

Butter: Oh don’t be silly, I will show you everything! Everyone here is nice.

Butters take Bradley hand, The boy smile to his friend, Butters lead Bradley for a tour before the class start.

In the lunch Kyle and Stan are siting together, when butter come holding hands with Bradley.

Butters: Hey fellas, this is my friend Bradley, we meet in a camp, now he will be in our class. Nice right?

Bradley say a shy hi, hiding behind Butters.

Stan: Oh hi Bradley nice to meet you.

Kyle: Yeah, nice to meet you.

Butter: Come on Bradley I will introduce you to Jimmy and Craig.

Stan and Kyle watch they walk away.

Stan: Dude, is that kid dating Butters?

Kyle: How can I know? Aren’t you a little obsess with it?

Stan: Yeah, maybe I am.

Kyle: Well kiss a boy is the same as kiss a girl trough.

Stan: WHAT?

Kyle holding his mouth but is too late: Crap…

Stan: Dude! Who did you kiss?

Kyle: Damn!

Stan: Kyle!

Kyle: Alright, alright. Was Kenny…yesterday.

Stan: Wtf Kyle! I can believe that!

Kyle: I am sorry, but I get confused when you said that.

While the boys discuss, Cartman and Kenny come to sit with them.

Cartman: What happen Stan, you look strange.

Stan mad: Kyle kissed your boyfriend. That was what happen.

Cartman shocked: Kawl! You fucking lying snake! (pause and turn to Kenny) Is this true Keenny?

Kenny looking sad: (Yes, but I can explain…)

Cartman: Explain my ass! How could you do that?

Cartman run away from the boys crying.

Kenny turned to Kyle: (You are fucking dead to me, Kyle!)

Kenny chasing Cartman: (Wait up babe.)

Kyle watch the couple leave shocked when Stan stand up and leave as well.

Kyle: Hey Stan! Come back.

Stan don’t answer and just leave.

The boys don’t talk with each other still the end of the class.

Kyle run to the front of the school to catch up Stan.

Kyle: Stan, wait up dude!

Stan stop and turn to Kyle: What do you want?

Kyle: Why are you so mad at me?

Stan: How could you ask Kenny to kiss you instead me?

Kyle: Are you serious?

Stan: Yes I am fucking serious Kyle! I thought that we was best friends!

Kyle: But we are! I thought that if I ask you, then you will think that was in love for you.

Stan: No, I will not think that, you should have ask me!

Kyle: Sorry Stan, I was just afraid that this could ruin our friendship.

Stan: Well Kyle, you just ruined it. Goodbye.

Stan go away, Kyle try to get up him but he freezes. He want to call for Stan but he is mute now, he stand there watching his friend leave.

End of chapter six.

#fanfic #south park #kenny mccormick #mysterion #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #eric cartman #kenman #keneric #sp bradley #sp butters

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roundtheworldwithtaytay · 7 years

Photo

Disclaimer; wrote most of this blog drunk. Not just drunk, totally pissed. Keep that in mind before offering judgement. Tea and scones with the queen at Buckingham Palace, a good two hours looking at Zach Thompson's war rooms and then a release... Today has been a quintessential London day. I headed out of my hotel in Cartwright Gardens to the King's Cross Underground station where I catch the Picadilly line to Covent Garden. I take a brief look around (intending to come back) before heading to Trafalgar Square. I have been to the Royal Gallery so I decide to skip it and visit St. Martin in the Fields and then over to the Churchill war rooms. Now... I have an inside joke that I would say only I have this day. Winston Churchill reminds me of my dear friend Zach Thompson. I can't see a single picture of the man without snickering. Then a group of veterans show up. They have all fought in different wars. I see insignia of Vietnam, WW2 & Korea on their hats as well as the patch for the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) of which my grandfather was a member. I strike up a conversation with an army vet. Such a lovely man named Dale or Dave (I might have misheard him) who served in Korea. We get along nicely having a wonderful conversation. I see if there is any chance that he knew my grandfather. He doesn't but my grandpa never talked about his involvement in this war so this is the next best thing. We talk for what must have been 20 minutes but his group wants to move along. He grabs my hand and says, "thank you sweetheart for listening to an old man." I tell him that it is me who should be thanking him, so I do. I understand the moment on both our parts to feel important . I wish him well and am on my way. Next stop, a walk by of Big Ben and Parliament before taking a tour of Westminster Abbey (a favorite of mine and this is my second visit). This time in my tour Mary Queen of Scots takes a more important meaning although before I recall being very interested in her reign before. She is buried next to Queen Mary II which is funny because the two actually didn't get along very well, but here they lie in eternity in the same nave of this cathedral. I head over to poet's corner (the main interest of mine in the abbey) where I encounter tributes to Shakespeare, the Bronte Sisters, Lord Byron, Lawrence Olivier," and a favorite DH Lawrence. "I never seen a wild thing sorry for itself,". That. Is. Me. So the rest of the night is basically a feminist/relations pub crawl. I apparently am an anomaly for many. Feminist. Check. Atheist. "Eeek!" Check. Human rights. Check. (They are fucked up over this. Sorry fooked). Army family. "Who the fook is this person?" Check. I first go into Blackfriar's Pub near Fleet Street. First I should mention that I wasn't expecting to get to see this gem because I forgot to write down the address of it before leaving my hotel room, then low and behold I walk out and BAM, there it is. This pub is an Art Nouveau pub built in 1875 on the site of a Dominican friary. Located at the end of the Blackfriars Bridge, it was saved from demolition thanks to a campaign led by Sir John Betjeman. Should you look around the pub you will find jolly friars appearing everywhere including sculptures, mosaics and reliefs. It really is a rare building in shape and decor. Definitely one to check out. I order a Seafarer's Ale and sit down at a table with two gentlemen who notice I have nowhere to sit. They continue their conversation (as it was almost over and they were about to leave anyway) one offers me an uneaten bag of crisps, sea salt and malt vinegar, MY FAVORITE!!! I sit back and sip my beer watching pub life in London. This is not a cliche. This is a very beautiful part of London social scenes and when there is no room left at the bar, everyone starts to convene outside. Next off, I walk the streets of Fleet. That Fleet Street. The one of the same name in Sweeney Todd. I had tried to visit Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese last time I was in London, however it was closed for, "renovation." Now, I don't know what, "renovation," means, but it looks exactly its dark and dank self. The pub was rebuilt shortly after the Great fire of 1666, but there has been a pub in this location since 1538. Now... there are older pubs in the area, but this one has zero natural lighting. When you go it is dark and gloomy. I take a walk around and march right into the, "Gentlemen Only," bar and order a Samuel Smith's Double Four Lager. This is where I meet two guys at the bar from the east coast. We chat a bit and then I get my beer and take a look around the bar. It is as old and dark as anything you could ever imagine. Also fun is that doorways and stairs down to the basement are generally short, uneven and creaky. There isn't a ton of room so I head out to meet my new friends. We start down the road of politics. The one cocky guy tells me immediately that he voted for Trump and made sure I know that, "Hillary, was not qualified." That is where my brain starts weaving. I let them in. I listen to them. I hate to say I tricked them, but I finally get to my point that, "Hillary in fact is one of the most qualified candidates to ever run for president." I also remind them that it is sad that she actually won the popular vote and is constantly silenced by men even when she is saying nothing. Also I add that America has a stronghold on fear of vaginas that is perpetuated by men. I could hear the explosions in their brain. If it made a sound it would sound like a millions voices saying, "who is this broad and what is she?" I perplex them, but remain kind. We are sharing ideas after all. Hopefully if anything got through I succeeded. I thank the one that is a firefighter for his service to veterans. I talk honestly and earnestly with them. I'm never preachy or aggressive though the cocky one is with me. He then tries to change the subject by saying, "well you are young?" I ask, "how old do you think I am?" Fact is he is only about 10 years older than me. He doesn't believe me and believes I'm a good 15 years younger than I am. The kinder one of the two goes in and gets me a beer because we had a very nice moment talking about the importance of veterans and I told him of my conversation with a vet earlier in the day. He comes back with a Samuel Smith triple stout and says it is better than Guinness. I liked him until that point. :). The conversation then goes into human rights. It starts off with Colin Kapernick and then ventures into the gay community. They really do not know what they are dealing with. The conversation goes down another route of twists and turns where I basically get them to agree they are privileged as am I, but where I really turned the cocky one off is my mention of... GASP!!! I'm an atheist. That whole conversation takes more twists and turns back to my point that religion, politics, war, etc... many times is due to a man's attempt to control women or to have control in general. I enter into my argument that, "we are standing in a country who's king created a new religion just so he could get divorced." Enter Adam. Handsome. Young. Brit. Cheeky like me. Funny as hell and definitely more interesting to talk to. "How dare you question the decisions of our monarch?" He hangs for a minute. The guys gulp down their beers. I have about 1/2 left, but they excuse themselves when Adam starts occupying my time. He and I both finish our beers and I bid him adieu and exit the bar. Next... Ye Olde Mitre. Another public house that was built around 1773, though the pub website notes that the original build year was 1546. Seriously... these old pubs are ridiculous. Also you will notice as I get drunker there is less information about the bar. I can't. I just can't. It's old. Like others it was destroyed by the great fire and rebuilt. I watch a man at the bar. Not a gentleman, a man, complain about a roll at the bar that he feels like was not up to snuff to his standards. This carried on for 5 minutes or so. I want another pint and what is standing between that and myself is this guy. I offer, "did you eat the whole thing?" Him: "yes." Me: "And you are just this moment having a problem?" Him: well he ignores me. He still wants the bartender to eat what he ate. The bartender remains polite and refuses. It carries on. I offer to buy him a pint just to shut him up. He agrees, the bartender pours him a pint and he goes back to his friend. Then I get fooked, the bartender proceeds to pour me an additional pint. What? No! I have to find the train. I go to pay and he waves me away. So... at this point I have received three free pints and a bag of chips. This is why I feel like I am on a making people get along mission, but in the meantime f-ing myself. I know there is a more official title but for real, I am three more beers in than anticipated and am around the area that "Sweeney Todd," was based on. Leave. Me. Alone. I don't even know how to get back to my hotel at this point. I drop a 5 pound note on the floor. The gent at the table next to me lets me know. Karma!!! Ohhhh! "Foreign relations!!! Diplomacy!!!" Are those the titles? Anyway... I start trying to leave and then hear, "arrest this godless heathen for treason against the crown." It is Adam again. He teases me of losing my "fellas." They couldn't hang. We talk a bit more but I know I'm pretty pissed and need to get home so I go about finding a taxi. Things were going pretty well. I get to the front door of my hotel before thinking... "Ahhhh Mable's Pub." No one in the world knows the significance of this Pub like I do. So attention must be paid. I decide to walk down to it, about a block away. There is just something about this place. Mable's Pub. I order a Bishop's Finger Kentish Strong Ale and a bag of crisps and sit back in the back corner of the bar. I was here some 5 or so years ago, in this exact seat in the Pub. Whether I knew it or not at the moment it was the place that I started getting a glimpse that another person's needs did not superceed mine. During this event a few years ago I dismissed myself to, "go get cold medication," for my ailing travel companion and found myself in this Pub contemplating all the things I had been told were wrong with me, all the while, I became more determined than ever to enjoy my time, something I was rarely afforded. During that trip I enjoyed this foreign city. I had conversations with people I did not know that thought I was alright. I dare say they thought I was interesting, while being told by another that I was, "in the way." Even in that moment I am not fully sure I understood the significance of this Pub, but some 5 (give or take) years later I am giving it as a directional reference point to my friend MJ. It means something. Now I laugh at the fact that I had two pints one fateful night then ran to the pharmacy to get cold meds and later proclaiming, "I got lost," so that I was not berated. Well not as bad. One of the only times I had ever lied to this person. This is significant, it was why I had the taxi drop me off in front of my hotel only to be drawn back to this place. Today I realize was some working out of some demons. I really needed this. This trip was everything I needed it to be. I have learned more than ever that I am a good person that wants the best for everyone around me. While I have learned that, I also know that those that don't wish the same can really just piss off and I don't need them near me. Mable's Pub... you become my alter. Forever I shall worship thee. Excuse me while I get another pint.

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mateoshea-blog · 7 years

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Pink Clouds & Pocket Lint

Part I

“Grabmeuhcouplecokes… cotton mouth y’kno?” as Fast Eddie chokes out the last toke of the roach. Quickly, Fast Eddie stashes the funky skunky stuff into an old oxidized ALTOIDS can – MADE IN GREAT BRITIAN, NT WT 1.76 OZ (50g). Fast Eddie had this logic that if he collected all his roaches, he could pawn off the “1.76 OZ of homegrown” to some free-lancing left-brained Polo wearing yuppie college kid for 50 bones. If anyone could pull a stunt like that, it was Fast Eddie.

“Yafuckinkiddinme! ‘Spose I’ll hoof it across the street to PAULIE’S CORNER STORE since Pizza Face and Pretty Boy both got Cerebral Palsy all-a-sudden” – Yeah, that’s the villain I been scheming with since I got clipped from the umbilical cord. Fast Eddie, guy was a maniac with a potato head. But, his barber scalped a fade around his temples to precision. Jesus, I mean his barber was his actual wingman. He’d tell us to go to the gay barber. We’d be sitting in at SPEEDY’S CUTS while Fast Eddie was choppin’ the locks and we’d overhear,

“Fast Eddie what work will my soft hands be doing today?”

And Fast Eddie would dish it right back, “If you wanna play with more than these locks later, what would you want my sex hair to look like in the morning?”

Just like that, Fast Eddie had undercooked and greasy golden French fries atop his potato head. Slicked back and thin cut, ready to serve. Ready to be swallowed into a cheap customer’s mouth. That’s why the drunks, gays, straights, in betweeners, freaks, creeps, geeks and neighbors all liked the fucking guy. Blue collar, told it how it was, and even offered a third hand when his other two were tied up someone else’s ass!

I could see Fast Eddie still jerking around across the street. Shootin’ the shit with the local folk. More than just a “It’s so warm in here!” small talk guy. Nobody remembers the shmuck with a dull personality. Fast Eddie could make a blind guy fantasize about the cashier at PAULIE’S just by the way he worked his tongue into imagery. He had it. Coupleuhcokes turns into Fast Eddie holding the door open for any pretty broad that gives him the slightest amount of eye contact (the polarizing effect of a good haircut). Perfect case study for Freud.

The musty haze of the hotboxed jalopy paranoid the living daylights outta me! We could get high in any partatown and Fast Eddie always coerced us to smoking in his car. Never got to enjoy my high, could never even tell if I was even high at all. The mirrors read “OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR” – that’s for damn sure. Mirrors were always staring at me with a never-ending time-warped nightmare. I’d get stuck in the mud with the Piggy’s that busted me with the joint that was burning away my dreams of CALIFORNIA COAST. I could only roll in this mud pit for so long until the objects in the mirror become reality.

Julian senses that one of my classic paranoia episodes is imminent. An observant learner, personal therapist, and mediator. Some of his unpaid roles. He uses the crank on both doors to roll down the clouded condensated windows.

“Carlton man, you love riding on the shoulder” chuckled Julian as he lounged in the plush back seat of the Caravelle.

“This is why I hate smokin’ grass, now you’re speaking straight from the hole that I call your CHAFFED LOOSE ASS!”

“Naw man… see listen, you ride the shoulder too much. That motherfucker ahead is always driving 5 miles per hour under the speed limit. You let him. And he owns you. He holds you back. He controls the rate at which you reach your destination. Shiiiit, if you ever reach it. You can’t pass him, you stay leaning on that white cozy shoulder called COMFORTABILITY. When you gonna pass the mothefucker ahead of you that’s been controlling you? When you gonna take EXIT 52 towards IMFUCKINFREEVILLE?”

I can’t even flip this one on Julian, “Yeah well I can’t ride yours and Fast Eddie’s coattails for too long now. IMFUCKINFREEVILLE has a population of some twenty million people. Once the weather vane in my oversaturated brain oozes out some hope and blows WESTWARD, I will pass that motherfucker ahead of me. No turning signal either. Imma trade in the cozy white shoulder for some dotted yellow cheese.”

“Carlton… that motherfucker dragging ass is YOU. Pass him with a prayer, leave him in the rearview.”

Julian, the backseat monk. Met him after I graduated high school. P.F. Flyer’s always crispy white, not ever one crease, not ever one scuff. Always thought he would become some materialistic rich prick. Prejudgment without contempt. Stupid me. Materialism attached to the developing brains of us high schoolers. Some shake it and others go to Universities to chase degrees that breed greed. Julian didn’t let the manmade cancer infiltrate him. He ended up rolling with us Proletariat outlaws. Somewhere, Karl Marx is grinning at me for my recruitment.

We had 30 minutes, precisely, to make it to the liquor store. Saturday’s were always the night for our bender.

Fast Eddie had this shit-eatin’ grin on his face when jogged back over the ’85 Caravelle, “Christ Almighty! Fast Eddie were you rubbing one out in PAULIE’S bathroom or sumthin’? We’re alloutta Jameson and you know we are 20 miles from the liquor store and it’s already 8:30!”

Liquor stores were no joking matter, we only found one that never had us show I.D. Plus, Fast Eddie grew a liking to the geyser that worked there. A sad babbling sack of space that got comfortable and stuck with one job his whole life. Bubbling and babbling, day in and day out. Shook so many times that he eventually became flat too.

“Pizza Face and Pretty Boy… always so self-interested. Gonna catch up to you shits soon enough.” Fast Eddie inserted the crusted key into the ignition of the Caravelle – DOOOP, DOOOP, DOOOP. God knows how many germs were on that steering wheel. Thick coats of compiled grease, excess secretions, and the fluids from various estranged females that Fast Eddie coxed in to his traveling fuck-pen. Law of superposition says oldest layers were on the bottom. I’d rather not know these things, but the smell invades my nostrils like the troops on D-DAY. Can’t even condition or desensitize myself to this aroma. Unrelenting attacks by the smell of Fast Eddie’s ball sweat and lingering remnants of a poor mans weed. I want to take a shower.

“Saturday Night. Dropping the needle down on a dusty B-Side for all you crazed, erotic, and hormonal souls cruising around looking for trouble. How about that L.A. WOMAN track… 1971. The Doors.” Slick Tom, our favorite disc jockey the night of a bender. Always reliable to set the tone.

Fast Eddie pounced on the pedal as Jim Morrison screeched sonic sex through the speakers, “Oh shit yeah fellas, we’re on the move. ‘MR. MOJO RISIN!’”

We punched it onto RT. 5. The faster route according to Fast Eddie, but it was actually the scenic route for him. He loved cruising past the prestigious Victorian style homes and dissecting what kind of conversations happen between the walls of those monasteries.

Fed up with the scenery after 3 miles, Fast Eddie barks “I bet these rich prick Dad’s just read the STOCK MARKET page in section B5 of the WALL STREET JOURNAL and ask their rich prick wives and rich prick kids where they wanna go on vacation next once the rich prick Dad’s inside trade deal hits on Monday morning.”

“Put the boner back in your pants, you’ll get your dividends too once you start pushing your roach filled ALTOIDS cans to the future homeowners of these fucking houses!”

Fast Eddie snapped right back at me, “I swear I’ll ash my next roach on that smirk of yours, Pizza Face. Maybe that’ll make you look more appetizing.”

Julian leaned in from the backseat, “AN ENDLESS PISSING MATCH, don’t your sacks ever go dry? Your testicles are attached right to your egos. Big swollen ball sacks swinging back and forth back and forth. Blowing your load all over one another day in and day out! It’s exhausting, your egos need a vasectomy!”

Just like that, right when Fast Eddie and I erupted, Julian cooled us down at the surface like molten rock. Crystallizing and metamorphosing into conglomerate. Needed him to flush our egos out. Needed to stop treating him like my urinal cake.

Fast Eddie swerved and weaved around the slow-moving masses of society that had no agenda for the night. Maybe they did. Maybe this is my self-interested motivations speaking again. I hated how maliciously Fast Eddie rounded the corners. Guard rails could’ve skinned my fingertips if I cracked the window open. This was Fast Eddie’s route. Knew every stop sign, timed every red light, and new all the lucrative hideouts where the Piggy’s patrolled.

It was 8:47, the odometer of the Caravelle twitched another mile on the dash. Only two miles remained between the three Proletariat outlaws and our enabler.

My second paranoia episode ensues, “Holy Shit Fast Eddie, you’re doing 55 in a school zone!”

“Who says I wanna choke down Jameson tonight? I’ll turn into De Niro from TAXI DRIVER if you don’t shut the hell up”

Just like that GUMBALLS GUMBALLS GUMBALLS flash in the mirrors. Objects in the mirror are becoming closer than they appear. Nightmare come true. I’m fucking doomed. We are fucking doomed. My self-interest putting me first.

“GODFUCKINGDAMMIT EDDIE! Mile away, no traffic, all interstate and now I’m gonna get jammed up with the Pigs!”

Fast Eddie retaliates, “Me, me, me! You squeal just like a fucking pig!” He takes the pressure from my brain and applies it to the pedal, POUNCE.

Julian has been around Fast Eddie enough to know that he will go to extremes to prove a point, “Fast Eddie c’mon man be cool, WE all ain’t trying to get canned. WE got living to do.”

Fast Eddie has that same shit-eatin’ grin that I seen earlier, “Fine I’ll pull this piece over. But, you don’t speak Pig Latin, got it?”

“What the hell do you mean!”

That’s all I was left to work with during my waning moments of freedom. The cop high tailed it over to the Caravelle. Tiny hairs, all a half inch long stick straight up and down on the officer’s fat head. Level one blade to navigate his temples, had to be Fast Eddie’s barber. I’m sweating bullets. The plate tectonics of my face begin to emerge. Premature pimples surface and I feel the magma boiling under the crust of my skin.

Fast Eddie rolls down the window, “HANDS ON THE WHEEL OR BRAINS ON THE WHEEL NOW”

My stomach launches acid into the back of my throat. Fast Eddie complies. Answers to an authority figure. No finger-fucking around.

“NOT ONLY ARE YOU THREE LITTLE SHITS A LIABILITY ON THIS ROAD, DO I HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE YOU WERE SMOKING MARIJUANA?”

Julian hasn’t flinched and Fast Eddie’s mute. Fast Eddie’s still got that shit-eatin’ grin on his face.

“AM I SPEAKING FUCKIN GREEK? IS THERE MARIJUANA IN THIS VEHICLE, THIS IS THE LAST TIME I WILL ASK BEFORE I SHAKE YOU DOWN TO YOUR PALE PEACH FUZZED ASSES!”

In my peripheral I see the ALTOIDS can staring at me. Rusted smile, MADE IN GREAT BRITIAN. 1.75 OZ – damn near weightless. But, enough weight to land me in the sin bin.

Enough to land us in the sin bin.

The Cop begins laughing, I mean really fucking laughing. The wild Pig chased his pray down and now he is foaming at the mouth. Ha-HA-HA-hahaha’ing until there is no oxygen remaining in his bloated stomach. Almost as if the funky stuff has protruded from the ALTOIDS can and immediately hit his bloodstream.

“ALRIGHT FAST EDDIE, THESE ARE THE PROLETARIAT OUTLAWS EH? OUR MOUSE TRAP COULDN’T CAPTURE A RAT!”

Fast Eddie’s dimples break out from his skin for the first time in a decade, “Thanks OFFICER LAFFERTY! Next hoagie from PAULIE’S CORNERSTORE is on me!”

“I’ll take the ALTOIDS can instead… when it’s full.” He replies. Walks away, swinging his Billy-club.

Fast Eddie peeps his dilated eyes into the corner of the mirror, glancing at Julian. “Pretty Boy whatsamatta! You didn’t croak! You didn’t squeal! Conglomerate don’t crack!”

Julian boasted,“Yeah, RATS don’t survive by scurrying on the shoulder. Too scared to chase the dotted yellow cheese if ya know what I mean. I gotta eat, I mean… WE gotta eat.”

“Amen.”

And, just like that comfortability didn’t appeal to me anymore. Lit the roach, took a toke, exhaled. Puff puff pass to Julian puff puff pass to Fast Eddie, and back to me. Repeat. Fast Eddie inserted the rusted key into the ignition – BOOOP BOOOP BOOOP. Slick Tom was steady playing them classic B-Sides. Liquor store was closed. Detour: EXIT 52 towards IMFUCKINFREEVILLE.

#fiction short story writer spirits read PinkCloudsAndPocketLint #submission

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theamazinguchihabruhs · 7 years

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Bang Crush part 5 (Final)

Also read: part 1 , part 2, part 3 part 4

“Professor Sunray?” I looked up questionable at the teacher climbing on the lower bookshelves in order to reach the top. He turned his head and for a moment he thought he was on the ground. He lowered his head and smiled.

“Hey, Sasuke!” He made a salute gesture with one hand, it caused him to almost lose balance. He quickly held back on the wood before exhaling relieved.

“What are you doing, professor?” I asked.

“Exercising.” He turned his head back to face me,” What do you think I am doing in a library.”

“I didn’t know you could read,” I muttered.

“No, I got my Ph.D. sucking dick, but I don’t expect you to put one and one together and figure out I was being sarcastic. That level of maths seems to be above you.”

“Itai~” I felt an imaginary brick fall on my head. No, scrap that, I felt an imaginary wall fall on me. “So, you are good at sucking. I am happy for you.”

“Really…Now you are suddenly a genius with words?” Nardo looked at me,”I used to have a friend, he made quick comebacks, just like you.”

“What happened to him?” I asked, but my words got ignored. I was pretty sure he heard me because he responded to my muttering so his ears weren’t going bad.

“There it is.” He grabbed a book from the top and had to pull pretty hard to get it out. With one strong jerk, he grabbed the book. “Owh no!” his movement caused him to lose balance and he tried to regain it, but the fell backward. He screamed but I managed to catch him.

He looked at me almost shocked, but then he smiled again.

“Kohai noticed me!” He said and burst out laughing. I shook my head and let him go.

“How the…” He looked from the bookshelf back to me.

“I am stronger than I look,” I said, scratching my cheek.

“What workout do you follow?” He asked, pretty seriously. Though the only image in my head was me dragging Madara drunk body over the doorstep. Getting him up the stairs actually was a good workout.

“Owh, I don’t like that look on your face. I think a sad childhood story is coming.”

“It’s more like Saturday night,” I laughed.

“Thank you for catching me.” He said before looking at the book in his hand. His expression changed slightly.

“Wrong book?” I asked.

“Since ur this strong, can I ask for a boost or would that be inappropriate?”

“Yes, ‘that’ would be inappropriate.” I shook my head, “Of course I can lift you up, but I can also grab you a stable ladder. Which is, right there” I pointed at the ladder with wheels under it. “If you hadn’t seen that before.”

“That has been an eye-opener for me.” He scratched his cheek nervously, “so are you here to study?”

“I came to return this,” I said, holding a small plastic bag with his shirt.

“Owh, my shirt, right.” He said as I handed him the bag, though now the people who were already present watching us, now had these ‘Oh my God’ eyes. Nardo looked up and seemed to notice.

“Why am I being so loud, damn!” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Bit out of context,” I admitted. My head felt warm, “I washed it.” I added.

“How nice of you. Do you happen to still have my tie?” He asked.

“Isn’t it in the bag?” I looked in the bag, of course, it wasn’t there, it’s in my room for God’s sake. I left it there on purpose, of course. “Owh, I probably forgot to take it out of the dryer,” I said looking thoughtfully. “And tomorrow is the weekend. Hnn I have soo~ much studying to do.” I tapped my finger against my chin and turned my head around,” So much chemistry…” I muttered, knowing he heard me damn well. “Well, if you have an address, I can deliver it to you first thing tomorrow. I know how important that orange tie is to you.”

“That would be a lot of trouble for you, won’t it?” He asked sympathetically. I could see the nice-guy taking over. He is probably going to tell me that I can keep it or just bring it another time if I remember, but I couldn’t have him do that. He has to give me his address, or hotel whatever!

“No, it is my fault for forgetting it. It is just that, it takes me so long to understand chemistry with my current teacher. I mean..I understand everything you are saying because you make it sound so easy…But my current teacher, well..He gives migraines.” I looked at him.

“Why not swing by my hotel room, I can tutor you.”

“Would you do that?” I asked, “Won’t it be a drag for you?”

“Before I became a professor, I taught kids in high schools. I love being a teacher.” He put his hand on my shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. A devilish smirk appeared on my face, before putting up my innocent face. He gave me his address.

“You are awesome, professor Sunray,” I said and used this as an excuse to hug him. I could hear him chuckle as he patted my head. He was about to say something, but then he suddenly let go,” Can you students stop giving me that perverted look!” The students turned their heads back to their books and studies. Except for this one woman, who gave a check sign with her hand towards mr. Sunray who gave her an unbelievable look.

”Ship it.” She said.

“You go to the lab,” Nardo said, his eyes still fixated on the woman. He gave her a strange look while he gave me a slight push towards the right direction.

I walked towards the lab and I could see Sakura and Suigetsu wait for me. I walked towards them before nodding.

“No waayyy~” Sakura looked amazed, “how?”

“Tie,” I said, “And I will tie him up with that same tie.” I satisfied and rather creepy look appeared in my eyes.

“Wow, I might actually be a little turned on right now.” Suigetsu joked, “At least once a week you look bangable.”

“Thank you,” I said, as I ran my hand through my hair.

“So what are you going to wear?” Sakura asked as she walked in the lab while we followed her.

“I think I will just grab an outfit from Izuna-”

“I meant under,” She had this perverted look for a mere second, “Didn’t you own some sexy undies?”

“I do..But I don’t know how to wear them.” I said, “Besides, I got them as jokes. Suigetsu bought one of them!” I pointed at him accusingly.

“Everybody laughed. It was a great gift. Also useful now, ain’t it?” Suigetsu asked.

“….I never put it on. It is like this black rope all around you..I don’t know how to get in there.” I frowned, “maybe I should ask Izuna?”

“Or maybe you should order something very sexy.” Sakura seemed awfully amused.

“He said he liked being a teacher. Now that I think about it-”

“Sexy schoolgirl uniform! Amazing idea,” Suigetsu said.

“I was going to say white shirt with a tie and black pants.” I said, “I can put my glasses on.”

“Boring! Schoolgirl uniform was better.” Suigetsu said.

“I am with him,” Sakura commented.

“Wait fuck…Tomorrow is Saturday.” I frowned, “I promised Itachi’s boyfriend to be at home base.”

“Why?”

“Because they have a sweet ass shooting range and I could use it if I was going to help him demonstrate a few techniques for these newbies.” I threw my head back, and groaned, “I will be all sweaty and how weird would be if I brought sexy underwear with me.”

“Can’t you cancel? This is bang crush,” Sakura said.

“I know…But it would be too suspicious.”

“No, no, this is actually good. What is hotter than this fella sweating in shorts.” Suigetsu said pointing at me with his thumb, “ Sweaty Sasuke in short army pants, fishnet stockings, boots and a black tank top. Even I would turn gay.”

“Turn gay or are gay.” Sakura jokes.

“I am not sure about you, but when I sweat..I stink.”

“Don’t sweat, just be wet,” Sakura said.

“It is like 3 degrees celsius outside,” I folded my arms.

“For bang crush!” They both said.

“For bang crush!” I clenched a fist, speaking about bang crush. Seems he just arrived. I looked up and at that very moment the only thing on my mind was that I was going to bang him..I was going to bang him hard. I couldn’t surpass that smile on my face. I was so close.

“Hey, blondie, will you pay some attention?” Nardo snapped his fingers, “Yes, I can say that I am blond too.”

I turned my head to the seat next to the window, where Naruto was sitting. I saw him give this arrogant and annoyed look to Nardo. I didn’t know his kind face could even make that look.

“Am I talking to the walls or something?” Nardo asked.

“Pretty sure you were talking to Uchiha over there.” He rolled his eyes from Nardo to me. I narrowed my eyes.

“Is that so? Because it appears to me you are the one who is daydreaming.” He indicated with his head towards me. Daydreaming or planning my death? I guess the second one was more realistic. Naruto looked away and he frowned slightly.

“Owwh, do the two lovers have to sort some fight out?!” Ino said loudly.

“Pff…As if.” I leaned my head on my hand and rolled my eyes, automatically exhaling. I questioned myself what it was about Naruto that actually had made me like him. It certainly wasn’t this behavior. If he could just back off.

“Wait, hold on a sec. Dattebayo!” I turned my head to Naruto, uninterested. “Really, fucking kidding me, this is coming from the same fucked up guy that begged me to fuck him after like..Two light beers.”

My eyes widened. I have done a bunch of humiliating shit in my life, but this was by far the worst. I heard a few classmates whistling and ‘ow-ing’. All I could feel was the heartbreak in my heart and the shame. I could feel my eyes burn from the tears appearing in them. A part of me wanted to stand up and just get the fuck away from this fucking lab, this fucking class, and that fucking Naruto. It was the wisest thing to do before I would do something I regret. This was the mature way to go, even though I was furious.

I got up and I grabbed my bag from the ground, heading for the door.

“Right, because that is what you are good at. Walking away.” Naruto said.

I remained standing not even two steps away from my seat. Yes…Today WASN’T the day I was going to do the mature thing. I threw my bag on the ground. I was going to slaughter him. I shouldn’t be the only one suffering. He should! I wanted to hit him, punch him in his pretty blue eyes, break his nose, break his bones!

“You fucker!” I shouted at Naruto while Suigetsu tried to push me back, and I didn’t mean to hurt him when my body moved on its own and kicked him in the kneecap, landing him on the ground.

“Calm down!” I got grabbed from behind and no it wasn’t some brave guy who figured he was strong enough to hold me back from severely injuring Naruto. It was Haruno fucking Sakura. I wanted to roll her over my shoulder, so she would let go of me, but she was a step ahead of me. Not sure if she predicted my move, or learned what I was capable of during Military camp. Either way, she did the right thing to stop me from going to jail for assault or even murder at this point. Which was throwing my body over the table and onto the ground. I was too angry to even think clearly of how to soften my landing. As I slid over the table I fell right on the ground, I could only remember hearing the loud sound of my head hitting the ground and the immense headache that followed. I felt my body get raised from the ground, held into somebody’s arms. I opened my eyes half, hearing the professor shout my name a couple of times. Was he scolding me? His voice was getting vague, my vision was blurred and turned black.

Oxoxxoxoxoxoxo

I was standing in the corner of a white room. For the most part, it was empty except for the mattress on the ground. I turned around and saw a door, with a small window in it. I tried opening it, but it was locked. I looked through the window inside a hallway. It seemed familiar like I have been there before, but this room..I couldn’t tell where I knew it from. I turned myself around and blinked twice seeing suddenly somebody sitting in the corner of the room. Long hair, covering the face, one big white shirt that reached the person’s knees. I could hear a repeating ‘bonk’ from the head hitting the wall at the same pace as a second from a clock.

“Hey….” I didn’t approach the person right away, “where are we?” I asked. The stranger started whispering and I frowned. I got closer until and kneeled down. It was then I could tell the person was a woman.

“What did you say?” I asked, “speak up.” I added as my hand reached for the hair fallen all over her face. I shoved it aside, it felt familiar. Too familiar. The moment I could see the eyes..Those eyes…That crazy look. I knew right away who she was. “Mom,” I said. She didn’t respond, she was hugging her knees, tighter, hitting her head harder against the wall.

“No, no, mom, don’t.” I put my hand between her head and the wall, “don’t, don’t, stop!” I grabbed her face so she was forced to look at me and stop hurting herself. “Mom, it is me. I am your little boy.” I stroked her cheeks, they were wet. Her eyes looked around, searching for something. She was muttering something, but I couldn’t tell what she was saying.

“Mommy,” I whispered. Seeing her like this…No wonder Itachi-nii never allowed me to come near the…Mental institute… I looked around me. “No….No…,” I whispered. I turned my head to the door. I got pushed to the ground and I looked up meeting her eyes.

“Die! Die! Die!” Her hands were wrapped around my throat, putting all her weight on it. I gasped for air holding her wrists. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe! I pushed her off and gasped for air.

“No. Not again!” I was panting as I rolled on my side, tilting myself up from the ground. She was standing next to the door. “NOT AGAIN!” I screamed. “I can’t take it…I can’t take this ANYMORE!” I walked backward until my back hit the wall. I slit to the ground and hugged my legs tightly. I wanted to cry, I was crying, but tears weren’t rolling down my cheeks. Nothing was. The pressure in my heart didn’t get lighter. “Just kill me…Just fucking kill me already.” I whimpered as I looked up to meet her eyes, “I can’t do this…I can’t.” I hit the back of my head against the wall. I couldn’t take this pain, this sorrow, this guilt.

The door got smacked open and two guys dressed in white appeared in the room.

“Told you he was going to crack.”

“He is weak”

“Useless”

“Fucked-up.” They both grabbed me on each arm and I looked down at my wrists, I was handcuffed…But I couldn’t remember when…When did I get handcuffed? Where did my mother go?! I looked around the room, my eyes desperately trying to find her. She was nowhere to be found. I looked at my feet, they were shackled and I seemed to be wearing nothing but a long white shirt.

“My mother where is she?” I asked and turned my head to the man on the right.

“Pff..He is at it again.” He talked to his co-worker.

“Always the same story. Hey, psychopath, if you want any family visiting you, you might consider trying to kill yourself after visiting hours.”

“Family…Visiting hours?” I looked at the man on the left. “Where are you taking me? Where am I!?” I tried to fight back. “Let me go! Let me go! I am not crazy! I don’t belong here!” I shouted.

“That is what they all say.”

“I didn’t try to kill my own son!” I shouted, “I am nothing like my mother!”

“Of course you aren’t. You killed her like you killed your father like you killed that innocent man.” My eyes widened.

“I didn’t..That man wasn’t innocent! He was a stalker, obsessed freak! He killed my father, he caused my mother to become crazy!” They opened a door and threw me in a room. “I didn’t do anything wrong! It was a self-defence!” One man pinned me on the ground and gave me an injection. I screamed and tried to fight back, but I felt my body going numb. I laid on my back, looking at the dark ceiling. Everything was made out of this soft material. The floor, the walls…The roof…There was nothing in the room.

“The faster you accept it, the less painful it gets, murderer.” I turned my head to the door.

“Will you finish up?”

“Of course.” One of them left, leaving one behind. He walked up to me, kneeled next to my face.

“I am not crazy…” I whispered. I could see a devious smirk on his face before he took his cap off. My eyes widened. There he stood…The man that had ruined my entire life. The stalker, the killer, the freak.

“You are.” He said, I looked at his forehead, there was a bullet wound there. Blood dripping over his face. When did that appear? I couldn’t keep up.

“You are.” I saw my father stand behind the guy.

“No.No..” I closed my eyes and turned my head away, “This isn’t real…No..No..I am not crazy.” I bit my bottom lip.

“You are.” My eyes snapped open, seeing my mother next to me, holding a kitchen knife.

“No, no, Mommy, no! NO!”

—————————————————-

I saw a bright light shine in my eye and could see the silhouette of my mother. Her face was blurry, but I could see the shape of the eyes, the shape of the face and her long hair tied into a ponytail.

“NO! NO!” I screamed I got up, my head bumped into her and my hand reached for whatever my hand could grab at such short time. I held a night lamp and I smashed it on her head. She fell on the ground and I heard screaming. Everything was blurry, I could only see the color white around me. My breathing became faster. I had to flee, I had to escape from this mental institute. I tried to escape, but I got pushed down on the bed.

“Quick grab me the syringe!”

“No, don’t!”

Security was off guard by whoever was shouting. I used the opportunity to wrap my leg around his neck and push my torso, causing the man to fall on the ground. I raised my fist punching him in the face. Once. Twice..Trice. Somebody grabbed me from my back and I quickly stepped on the person’s toes before pushing my elbow in his guts and throwing him over my shoulder right against the wall. I heard glass shatter I looked down at a big piece. I managed to see myself. My bangs were fallen over my face.My face had some plasters, but I wasn’t paying attention to that. I was looking at the crazy eyes…Those crazy eyes.

I shut my eyes and grabbed that piece of glass from the ground. I stood up and I needed a moment to regain my balance. I looked up and saw the image of two blurry people, both in white, suddenly back away from the entrance. The man who held the syringe threw it on the ground, holding his hands up, just like the woman did. My grip around that piece of mirror tightened. I could feel drops of blood fall on the ground. I took one step towards the door but stopped seeing somebody appear. I couldn’t make much of it…Perhaps it was Minato? Had he sent me here? My hand tightened further around the mirror.

“Sasuke…” I looked confused. That sounded like Naruto.

“Sasuke, it’s alright.” He didn’t approach me.

“See these black thing in my hand?” I nodded. “These are your glasses. Now don’t be shocked. You are in the hospital, a medical hospital, your head hit the ground and you fainted. You have been out for like two hours.” I blinked a few times. “It is alright, you’re scared, I get that. Dattebayo.” I could see his arm reach out to me. “But I am here, and I won’t let anything happen to you. Alright?” He took a few steps closer. “Now drop the glass. You don’t need a weapon. I am here to protect you.” He said calmly ad he approached me slowly. I looked at the piece of mirror in my hand, it was covered in blood. I dropped it on the ground at the exact moment I felt Naruto’s hand on my waist. I could see him clearly now.

“Naruto.,” I whispered and he gave me his warm smile before putting the glasses on my face.

“It’s me,” He said. I smiled, I felt pathetic at this moment. “Come on, breath slowly. In…And out.” He said. I didn’t listen to him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close to me.

“I was so scared. I was so scared!” I repeated myself. He stroked my back. “I was at this mental institute, she was there, she wanted to kill me! They were all there! All of them!” I kept rambling on and on. I couldn’t let go of him. I didn’t want to be separated from him. I felt safe, for once. I felt safe.

“It was a dream.” He said.

“It felt so real.” My voice was soft and pathetic on so many levels. I shut my eyes and I felt him hold me tighter. “She was here, I saw her.” I could feel Naruto stiffen slightly. He opened his mouth to say something but exhaled uncomfortably.

“That wasn’t ‘her’.” I could hear from his voice that he didn’t know I was referring to my mother. I slowly opened my eyes and turned my head to look behind me. My heart stopped beating when I saw Itachi-nii. I saw a broken lamp on the ground and the blood dripping from the wound on his head to his face wasn’t lying. I hurt my own brother. My body was shaking and my already heavy heart managed to become worse.

“Sasuke, breath in..And out.” I didn’t notice the hyperventilation until Naruto pointed out I had to breathe slowly in and out.

“I fucked up…,” I whispered. I couldn’t look at Itachi without feeling the guilt eat me from the inside.

“You should lay down.” I heard Itachi’s voice say. He sounded like his usual self, not angry…Or emotional. My grip around Naruto tightened again.

“You should, Sasuke. You had quite the hit on your head.” Naruto agreed.

“You…You are not going to transport me to a mental institute, are you?” I only was making it worse on me by looking at Itachi.

“Never.” He responded.

Oxoxoxoxoxoxox

“Look who woke up,” I opened my eyes and looked at Naruto. It seemed he hadn’t left my side. I couldn’t help but crack a smile. I sat up and looked around the room. Had I been dreaming? I looked at the bandage around my hand. I was disappointed, turns out it was real.

“So, Itachi had gotten the neuro scans back. You had a slight concussion, but you’re fine. Dattebayo.”

“He told you?” I asked, “How is he?”

“They had to glue it, but he is fine. A bit light headed but said because he saw my ugly face and puked twice thanks to it, Dattebayo!” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head.

“What are you doing here? Why are you trying to cheer me up? Why-”

“Because it is my fault.” He interrupted me, “I was angry. I wasn’t thinking straight and yes…This is all my fault.”

“My fucked-up mind is not your fault. It is like genetics or some shit.”

“No, what I said. It was bad, there is no way around it. It was a low blow and…I… I just still have growing up to do.”

“In my defense, it wasn’t the light beers. I hadn’t eaten all day. Also, I don’t drink that much-”

“You don’t have to defend yourself. Because honestly…I was tempted.” He had this little smug smile.

“What stopped you, my ugly face?” He cocked his head by my comment.

“No….It is because I care about you. I mean if you were a random guy I met at the bar. By all means, I would have done it in a bathroom stall.” He shook his head, “Putting that aside-”

“I want to know one thing.” I interrupted him, “Why do you care about me, so much?” He opened his mouth and I pushed my finger against his lips, “Don’t give me that ‘because we are friends’ speech or some shit. I will smack you with a nightlight. Believe me, I practiced.”

“Because…You are like a brother to me, dattebayo.” I felt ‘trolled’.

“Bitch, you don’t even have brothers. You don’t know jack shit about how a brotherly bond feels.”

“Fair enough!…I am witnessing you making the biggest mistake of your life, and yes…I don’t want you to get hurt, or regret it. I want to stop you from making that mistake. But you aren’t listening, you are never listening. So….Yes…I was pissed.”

“Pffff.” I laughed, turning my head away from Naruto before looking at him, “It sounds more like you regret something. I guess you made the wrong choice during Halloween.”

“Funny!” He said, shaking his head.

“But really Naruto. I might not have a dad to look after me, but I have five brothers. You don’t have to take that responsibility.”

“Are they taking care of you or are you taking care of them?” I was about to open my mouth to say something, “Because I recall you beating up somebody who tried to hurt Obito, carried a drunk Maddy to his room, always forgive Itachi for neglecting you, cleaning Izuna’s shit up and dealing with the terrible girlfriend choice of Shisui.”

“But I am fine, besides they do tons of things for me too. So, I will release you from your self-proclaimed daddy role.”

“Yeah, I heard from Izuna you accidently called Suké dad.”

“One time! I was sleeping! Besides, this has nothing to do with the professor,” I said. He smiled and his finger poked my cheek.

“Whatever. Go get him, tiger.” He sat back in the chair, kicking himself towards the window.

“Knock-knock.” I turned my head to the door and smiled, seeing Nardo. “How are you feeling?” He asked as he got in the room.

“Not bad, but my head hurts quite a lot.” I got on my elbows, “Aah, my mom used to give me a kiss against the pain, though I doubt it would work this time.” I put up my sweetest face.

“Owh, you poor little boy.” He approached the bed and laid the rose from the gift shop on the counter.

“You son of a bitch!” I screamed, suddenly feeling Naruto above me.

“My mother is dead! Show some respect!”I shouted.

“You son of a dead bitch! Dattebayo! Not even two seconds and you are back at it!” He shouted.

“You told me to get him. You said that 3 seconds ago!” I shouted back.

“I will punch you in that pretty face!” He shouted, “I was indicating for you to do the right thing! Which is listening to me!”

“Fuck Naruto, I thought you were just like your father, but you seem to be just like your mother!”

“It seems you’re lacking good beating from your mother!”

“Teenagers…They are the worse with oxytocin involved.” He scratched his cheek.

“You should shut up! Dattebayo!” Naruto hissed.

“Hey, don’t talk to Bang Crush like that!” I grabbed Naruto by his collar while he a gripped on mine.

“Bang…What?” Nardo looked confused

“Don’t you dare act innocent. Fucking lab coats hanging everywhere and you give this fucker your shirt?”

“I hate to break it to you, professor, but you did look at the ecchi picture.” I said, “Don’t worry. Together we will make an entire album.” I winked, but then got head bumped by Naruto.I hissed in pain.

“Keep it in your pants, bastard!” He shouted.

“Hey mate, so I heard you knocked urself out and then had PTSD moment. I figured the least I could do is visit the person who hit my boyfriend with a lamp and gets away with it.” Suké walked inside and didn’t even look around the room, “what did you get yourself into. Blondie, get the fuck off him.” with one pull he pulled Naruto off me.

“Suké? Nightsky…Suké?” Suké looked up and his expression blanked. He dropped his bag and ran to the door, though it was his bad luck Itachi just happened to block it.

“Honey, what is going on?“ Itachi asked. I could see a plaster on his head and I felt guilty again.

“Uhm..Ah..Uhm..” He turned his head back and then back at Itachi, “Remember that jackass ex of mine. Waldo the idiot. Yeah…Turns out he is Waldo.” Suké pointed behind him.

“Uhm..I am professor Sunray, but you can call me Nardo.” He said.

“Wait…Professor Sunray? Otouto, he is your bang crush.” Itachi stated.

“Ooh~ So Sasuke’s bang crush is Suké’s ex who is now Sasuke’s brother’s boyfriend. How ironic.” Naruto seemed amused.

“What in a hell is a bang crush?” Nardo looked confused and then looked back at Suké, “Why are you running away from me. I have been searching-”

“Owh, naff off!” Suké interrupted Nardo, “You married that nobody and have not one, but two brats with her. The same fucking year you begged me to come to you.”

“I have been trying to explain-”

“You promised to come back in two years, but you never did!”

“No bitch, I said I would come back when I got my bachelor….I ain’t got no bachelor because I quit the moment I hear you married-…I don’t even know her name!”

The argument heated and I Naruto sat next to me in the bed.

“Are you following this?” Naruto whispered.

“Yeah…So turns out Nardo is not over Suké, but Suké has finally moved on with niisan. But he is still angry at Nardo, for breaking his heart.” I whispered.

“I am…I am not sure what is going on.” Itachi sat on the edge of the bed. He looked from his boyfriend to…Well, his boyfriend’s ex.

“I think this is foreplay.” Naruto joked.

“Yeah definitely. Fanfiction rule. When an argument gets heated, one of them will get roughly kissed and pressed against the wall.”

“Otouto…Why didn’t you bang the bang crush…At least he would have been away from my boyfriend.”

“Yeaaahhh…..Y’know what…Now…That I know Suké has tapped that first…Well..I think the bang crush is gone.”

“Fucking finally.” Naruto turned his head towards me. I saw Suké grab Nardo by his collar.

“HEY!” Itachi raised his voice.

“I am going to punch him!” Suké said.

“Owh, alright. For a moment I thought the two of you were going to make out.” Itachi crossed his legs.

“I…I am going take that…I don’t have to return your tie no more?” I interrupted them.

“What is that brat doing with your tie?” Suké looked furious.

“Owh, jeez, I was only trying to get in his pants for a month.”

“You were what?!” Nardo looked shocked.

“My god, you really have a type.” Suké shook his head, “bang your own blond!”

“Oh well, guess we got to listen.” Naruto wrapped his arm around me.

“Get your hands off him.” I heard Itachi say.

“Right..” Naruto removed his hand and cleared his throat, “Aren’t you…Feeling a little afraid of losing Suké to Nardo?”

“Naruto, look at me. Really look at me. What do I have to fear?” Itachi asked.

“Nothing..” Naruto scratched his cheeks.

“Indeed. He hurts, he is dead. I will make sure of that. I will fake his death and I will get away with it.” Itachi didn’t seem too worried.

“Nah… Sasuke? I think I have a bang crush.” I smacked Naruto in the face.

“Fuck to the no,” I said and I heard him laugh.

xoxo Special thanks to the lovely and talented @emeneska-chan xoxo

#naruto #sasuke #fanfiction #nardo is naruto from gaiden #suké is sasuke from gaiden #narusasu #sasunaru #bangcrush

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a-kid-from-saturn · 6 years

Text

I am watching South Park,episode all about Butters and,well..

In short,it was Butters's parents anniversary and his dad said he's going to get his wife a present,so Butter's mom sent him to go spy on him. It turned out his father didn't go to get her present,but instead he went to places for gay people in South Park.

____________________________

Butters:*after his dad went to see a movie by himself that Butters wasn't aware that was gay porn* The movie must've been short cause dad came out ten minutes later. It must've been a sad film cause he had a bunch of tissues. Poor dad. Movie must've really got to him"

___________________________________

Butters's mom *passes out after finding out on how may gay places her husband went to*

Butters:"Oh did you have a nice trip? See ya next fall" *laughs*

Poor soul he doesn't even know what it all means xD

____________________________________

Butters's mother: *goes insane after she finds out her husband is cheating on her with guys and paints the entire house.three times.*

____________________________________

Dad:"Butters,I don't know what to get your mother for anniversary,do you have any ideas?"

Butters:" Not really"

Few moments later

Dad:"I am going to try to find present for your mom again.See you later"

Mom:*colors Butters's face with paint she used to paint the house*

Butters: "I know! Dad can get mom a brush! I need to tell him right away!"

__________________________________

Dad:"-when you catch your dad jacking off in a gay men's bath house"

Butters:"Who is jack?"

_____________________________

Dad:" you won't tell mom right? Cause if you tell her she might go a bit...insane"

Butters:"Of course not!"

Dad:"Oh good thank you"

Butters:"Cause I already told her and she is fine with it"

Dad: "You WHAT?"

________________________________

Mom,that is planning on killing Butters:"Butters,you know that mommy loves you an awful lot,don't you?"

Butters:"Well sure I do mom! I love you too"

Mom:"And sometimes mommies that seem hurtful to their babies,but it's really for their best"

Butters:"Oh you mean like that time when you washed my mouth out with soap for saying 'nutsack' in front of grandma? Yeah,I need to behave myself"

MY POOR BABY BUTTERS

______________________________

Author's note: at this point of the episode,I am sick of "Everyone knows it's Butters" jingle.

___________________________________

Well now his parents got back together and they think that their son is dead cause Butters's mom is convinced that she killed him, so they lied that a guy kidnapped him.

On the other hand Butters didn't drown in the river,he actually just got taken far away by river and now a guy is driving him home and Butters can't stop talking and guy who was driving him threw him out and I am dying.

That is exactly what would've happened to me.

__________________________________

And now Police man is an idiot. Just gonna say that.

_________________________________

AWW BUTTERS IS GOING THROUGH A FOREST OF DEATH WHICH IS SUPER DANGEROUS CAUSE HE DOESN'T WANNA LET HIS PARENTS DOWN AND NOT SHOW UP FOR THE ANNIVERSARY

Did I ever say how much I love Butters? Cause I really do.

___________________________________

Butters walking in the forest all alone:*gets scared* "Oh nut sack! " *immediately covers his mouth* "whoops"

____________________________________

*Parents fighting bout why Butter's mom killed Butters*

*Butters walks in that moment*

Butters:"Happy anniversary!"

Dad: "Not NOW Butters"

Butters:"oh okay I will just go to my room"

Mom:

Dad:

Both:BUTTERS!

*all hug*

YEAH DAMN RIGHT YOU NEED TO HUG HIM YOU SICK SONS OF BITCHES

___________________________________

BUTTERS IS BEING AN AUTORITAH I CAN'T EVEN

__________________________________

Butters: "You listen HERE! Now I am SICK of all these "harmless lies" and the "little white lies" you know? You could call a shovel an ice cream machine but it's still a shovel,mom and dad. And you can call a lie whatever you want,but it's still a lie! No-good stinkin' lie!"

YOU TELL THEM BUTTERS

__________________________________

Parents for news:"I have an announcement to make. Our son has been returned to us"

*everyone cheering*

*Stan,Kyle and Cartman just standing and looking*

Stan:"Butters was missing?"

___________________________________

And now

"We learned something today" cliche

plus Butters being "Wait what?" At parents explaining how his dad actually went out with guys and his mom telling that she actually tried to kill him.

____________________________________

Also this guy.

____________________________________

Butters is still shook btw

____________________________________

Stan to Butters: "wow your dad is a pervert and your mom tried to kill you"

Butters: "Well,yeah. You fellas are sure gonna rip on me in school now"

Cartman:"We sure are."

Butters:" I really wish I didn't know that stuff. I guess I will learn that sometimes lying CAN be for the best.Yep."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Well that's it. No one is gonna read this but whatever I am bored asf xD

#south park #south park butters #south park season 5

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jedverjus251418-blog · 6 years

Text

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thomaspredestined-blog · 6 years

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Dirty Water (Typed Sermon).

Here’s the transcript from the sermon I gave on December 10th, 2017.

The audio version is here.

Mark 1:1-8

Good morning! Okay. For those that weren’t here last week, I’m not Josh. I have way less gray and my beard is imaginary. By the way, after last week, I’ve come to the conclusion that he uses this mic because it makes him feel very much like a mid-2000’s Britney Spears, which is an amazing feeling.

I’m Ryan and, for those that were here last week, I decided to go against the shirt embargo and wear what I normally do. It’s a HOLE-Y shirt, guys! Get it?! Holy?! Bringin’ that Josh level humor. I figured today is probably gonna get weird, so I might as well be comfortable.

Josh asked me to speak last week and this morning. And just like last week, I want to let you know that the views and opinions expressed in the next half hour-ish, don’t directly reflect those of Josh and the leadership team here at the Bridge. If I say something that offends you, sparks your interest, or if you have questions about anything that I say, by all means, come talk to me after the message.

In the early days of the church, the teaching portion of their time was spent in discussion. It was an open dialogue with people voicing differing opinions. I love that idea. We all have had different experiences that have formed different views. We learn and grow from each other. Keeping in the spirit of that, then, I would ask that, in the same way that I promise not to shut out what you have to say, please do not shut out what I say this morning.

It’s my plan to delivers today’s message in a few sections. We will be talking about John the Baptist (Mark 1:1-8), but we’ll be getting there in a strange, convoluted way.

First, I will tell you about me, give you some context as to who I am and why I’m here. After that, we will go over the scripture together and hopefully, I’ll tell you some cool things about that. And, once we’ve done those two things, if I’ve done this correctly, I’ll tie it all together for you.

For those of you keeping score at home or taking notes:

I’m gonna tell you about me. I’m gonna tell you about the reading for today. I’m gonna tie it all together.

Alright. Me.

The chubby, angry, tattooed fella.

I was raised in the Christian, fundamentalist faith. I was saved and baptized by age 7. I rededicated my life a couple of times at all the big youth rallies and conventions during junior high and high school. I went to a Christian college, played drums in almost every church I’ve attended, led youth, and have even preached a few sermons before this.

All of that to say, for about the past decade, I’ve said that I was an atheist. My mother and father are here. This is the first time they’re hearing me say that. I am forever sorry, guys.

I genuinely thought that I didn’t believe in a god, much less the god of the bible, or the god of fundamentalism. I didn’t understand him. I didn’t understand the faith I was brought up in. I saw the way the church, alleged stewards of God’s love, treated people. I heard the things that were said about the gay community. I saw the way communities of color were treated. I couldn’t believe in a god that felt that way about his creation. That would love some and not others. That would care about pigmentation and preference above heart, action, love.

So, first mentally, then emotionally, and finally physically, I walked away.

With or without my faith, there have been four women in my life who have ultimately shaped me. There was my mother, Sherry (the crazy one from last week and the one who’s crying now), who taught me truth and strength. My first dog, Emmylou (who was fat, sassy, and had the absolute worst gas in the world), who taught me compassion. My wife, Steph (the absolute hottest, funniest, coolest woman who’s ever talked to me and who foolishly agreed to marry me), who has taught me how to be a man and how to submit my will and desire to another. And Tisha.

Tisha…

Tisha was beyond description. To call her a force of nature doesn’t describe the kinda whirlwind she was. To try to sum up her strength, character, force of will, heart, beauty, laugh, sarcasm is a waste of time. There are no words. They simply do not exist.

When I couldn’t afford to eat, she made me potato soup and yelled at me for not taking leftovers home.

When I met a new girl, Tisha was the litmus test. If who I was dating could stand up to Tisha, then that girl was worth dating.

And when I needed a reality check, an ego check, a throat punch, an album recommendation, or a hug, Tisha was always there. Jammin’ Leonard Cohen and smiling behind a cigarette.

Then, she died.

I watched her husband cry over her in a box.

I cried over her in that same box.

When I kissed her forehead, it wasn’t her. It was a hard, plastic thing. That was not the woman who snuck out of the hospital to smoke with me. That was not the woman who told me to marry my wife. That was not the woman who challenged my lack of belief every time we spoke over coffee and dirty jokes.

But, she had died.

I started trying to reconcile what I’d been taught growing up with what I saw, with what I knew and had experienced. I tried to make things line up. She couldn’t just be gone.

God does not need an angel more than I need her. God certainly does not need her more than her 15-year-old daughter does. More than her broken, hurting husband does. God didn’t call her home. Her husband and her daughter will always be her home. Our friends are her home. Christian platitudes and cliches about death weren’t the answer.

Science taught me that matter reverts to energy and energy to matter. And she was nothing but radiant energy. Energy doesn’t just stop. The bigness of her could not just stop. She had to still be something. She had to still be somewhere. But, science said she became worm food and nutrient-rich soil. So, science wasn’t the answer, either.

But she was dead and I could not accept that she was gone.

So, I started looking. I started trying to find Tisha.

Who’s depressed now, eh?

We’re gonna put a pin in the sadness and come back to that, okay? I can’t handle too much more of that or I might end up snot bubble crying in front of all of you and that will be an even less pleasant sight. However, I promise we will come back to it, okay?

We go from my past to Christianity’s past, now.

It’s about 60 C.E. A dude named John Mark is working with his friend, Peter, to write down a story about a man named Jesus who John Mark had never met. Peter, however, had been with Jesus and went about preaching to whoever would listen about what he’d learned at Jesus’ side. John Mark, then, attempted to chronicle all of these teachings into a book.

Somewhere around 4-6 B.C.E., this man, this Jesus is born. And one would think that if you’re writing the story of this man, you’d start at the beginning of that story. The birth of this man. That’s not where Mark starts his story, though. Mark starts the story about 25 years after that, in the middle of a thing. He starts Mark 1:1 with:

“The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God…”

I love this for two reasons. One, that’s not a sentence. It’s not. If you read through my notes, you’ll notice that I’m a rather big fan of writing in fragments. And secondly, when Mark was writing this, he would have been in, or near, Rome. This salutation was how people would ride through the streets to announce the coming of Caesar. So, already, Mark is starting this off by announcing the kingship, the authority, the heavenly and divine mandate of Jesus with a sly, ironic, tongue-in-cheek smile. Keep that in mind as we go on:

“…As it is written in Isaiah, the prophet: Look, I am sending My messenger ahead of You, who will prepare Your way. A voice crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way for the Lord; make His paths straight!…”

This, again, is Mark doing another clever thing. He starts us in the middle of the story and immediately jumps to the Old Testament prophet, Isaiah. Mark is utilizing these specific words because, according to oral tradition and rabbinic texts, Isaiah would have been one of the most popular Jewish texts at the time. He’s showing us that something is happening by using two things, the proclamation of Caesar and Old Testament scriptures, that everyone in his day would have easily, quickly, readily understood. He’s giving us a peek behind the divine curtain to show the Jewish community of his day that the old words, the old traditions, the words of Isaiah are still alive. Mark was also a huge fan of irony in his text. He paints a very human picture of the divine Christ figure. He lets the readers, you and I, in on the secrets of who this Jesus character is before everyone else is made aware of it in the story. He downplays the power of Christ, Jesus’ claims of divinity, and even ends his story without the resurrection. The ultimate in irony. Throughout the entirety of his text, Mark never loses sight of the real lives of ordinary people. He focuses primarily on the economic and social ramifications, the earthly over the divine, and the present over the future.

Everyone still tracking with me?

“…John came baptizing in the wilderness and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were flocking to him, and they were baptized by him in the Jordan River as they confessed their sins…”

Rome was in control of everything about Jewish life, including the Temple. This is the great Temple. Solomon’s temple. Albeit, a rebuilt, expanded upon, destroyed and rebuilt multiple times over version of Solomon’s temple. But, it’s that Temple that Rome controls. And they control it to the point where wealthy families get into bidding wars with each other to pay Rome for their sons to be the high priest. The one who enters the Holy of Holies, the one who speaks directly with God for the atonement of His people, all of Israel. That position is up for sale at this time.

Alongside this, you have lenders, creditors, standing outside the temple offering lines of credit to the people who can’t afford a sacrifice. Rome was taxing the citizens of Judea around 90%, so if you’re a poor farmer, you would take a line of credit to buy an animal that was raised specifically for sacrifice because that was what the law of Moses required. And if you failed to repay this debt, or missed a payment, they didn’t repo the goat or the chicken, they took you and your family as slaves. They took your land as their own.

So, essentially, you have a small number of the Jewish aristocracy, that has sworn allegiance to Rome in exchange for power and wealth, preying on the rest of the Judean population. The wealthy elite are holding everyone’s salvation and atonement hostage.

This was the world that John the Baptist was stepping out of the wilderness into. And he was telling these people, this corrupt Jewish aristocracy and the poor Jewish community and the normal Israelites in between, that they needed to be baptized. Aside from the priest taking ceremonial baths, baptism was a thing reserved for Gentiles at this time. It was a rite of passage to be cleaned when converting to Judaism. And here’s this dude, standing in the same river where people wash their clothes and their armpits and so on, telling the entire nation they need to come down there and be baptized.

It goes on:

“John wore a camel-hair garment with a leather belt around his waist and ate locusts and wild honey. He was preaching: ‘Someone more powerful than I will come after me. I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the strap of His sandals. I have baptized you with water, but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.’”

At the same time, there were people roaming all over Judea, claiming to be the messiah, amassing followers, murdering Romans, and establishing credibility to be Israel’s savior, a physical king of a physical realm.

And juxtaposed with this, happening next to these faux-messiahs, you have John, a man born to descendants of Aaron, making John a descendant of Aaron. A kohen, priest. One of the potentially wealthy elite that could pledge his allegiance to Rome and live a life of luxury. And he’s living in the wilderness and we meet him standing in a dirty river. He is humbling himself in appearance, wearing the clothes of Elijah an old testament prophet (who was said to come again before the coming of the Messiah), well beneath what a man of his station should be wearing. Essentially, John is super punk rock. He’s living off honey and locusts, bugs and bug juice, when as a Kohen, he should be feasting on meat from the sacrificed animals and drinking the finest wine. But, there, in the Jordan, he stands. Proclaiming, unlike the other Jewish rebels with a following, he is not the messiah. Proclaiming he’s not even worth to untie the messiah’s shoelaces. Proclaiming what he’s doing is nothing compared to what the one who comes after him, the true messiah, will do.

Before we get too far into this and further unpack what’s happening here, I do want to point out something very important to me and near to my heart. We grew out of Judaism. Which means we absolutely, positively, 100% MUST give it the respect and honor it’s due. We are a Judaic cult, a branch of the Jewish faith that went a little further in it’s belief system. We can not gloss over the importance of Judaism to the current church or in the text. We must respect it. We must honor the Jewish nature of the Christ, the early mothers and fathers of the church, and the importance that Jewish customs, traditions, and oral histories played on the scriptures.

Right out of the gate, “fresh out the box,” as the kids would say (did I get that right, youngin’s?), you get this incredibly politically charged statement from Mark. A statement that could certainly get you killed for making at that time. He immediately draws a parallel between the earthly power of Caesar and the heavenly power of the Christ. He’s letting the reader in on a powerful, ironic secret. He’s establishing this new thing, the gospel, good news, about the Messiah, with a capital M. The true messiah. He’s signaling the importance of what’s to come in the rest of the book, drawing the reader into this social, political, eternal drama that’s unfolding.

Mark then dives into the OT, something every Jewish person would have known. He tells them about a prophecy of Isaiah wherein John’s coming is foretold. The same prophecy that John’s father, Zekkariah, receives from Gabriel in other gospels.

(Also, once John the Baptist’s dad finds out he’s gonna have a son, he can’t speak. Literally. He goes the entirety of his wife’s pregnancy without speaking. When it comes time to decide on a name, he actually writes “His name will be John” on a tablet. I’m sure there’s more than one woman in here that would see a mute baby daddy as a blessing…)

It’s in this corrupt, combined church and state system that John comes up in. Where the rich, the elite, the fancy pants types push for more power and more wealth and more dominance over everyone else. It wasn’t the whole of the Jewish community, but a small percentage that traded their own people for a little bit more money and power.

Being a Kohen, descendant of Aaron, of priestly lineage, he would have been taught all of the things of his people, as well as the Romans. John would have been afforded the right to take his place in that group of social, political, and monetarily elite ruling class of Jews. He would have known about the money changers, the creditors, the garish feasts and rights of the priests. He would have been an inside man. A made man. John could have sat in a tiki-themed temple, cracking wise with his knucklehead cronies, asking the tough questions like, “I'm funny how, I mean funny like I'm a clown, I amuse you?”

Some 2,000 years later, it’s this same system of greed and wealth and power and dominance and moral gluttony that we find ourselves in today. There are “prosperity” bibles out there and people telling you if you give them all of your money, God will bless you beyond your wildest dreams. We fight for political power, bending the teachings of Jesus to fit within our political definition of morality. “Well, the Bible says this but means that...” to justify marginalization and pushing people out the door. We temper love with dogma and faith with certainty. We favor being right over being humble.

We have used a corrupt religious system to influence our politics in an effort to gain power or dominance. John gave up every notion of power actually afforded to him by his birth to lead the people to Christ. He gave up the wealth and the social standing and clout he received just by who his great-great-great-grandpa was in an effort to be who God said he was, not what society said he was, not what the power structure said he was.

John the Baptist, and later Jesus, goes on to call the religious figures who wielded political power a “brood of vipers.” That’s not just a super gnarly band name, it was a major insult in those days. Snakes were associated with evil (you know, Garden of Eden, creation story, etc.) not with awesome album covers or dudes with bleach blonde mullets drinking Budweiser in American flag t-shirts. He called these priests, who used their religion to make political decisions that placed their boot squarely on the throats of others, children of evil. Yeah. That’s a thing. (If you’re not offended easily by strong language, ask me after the service what they were really being called.)

Is any of this ringing true for how the church operates today? Can you think of any more fitting a thing to say about the Westboro Hatemongers, TV evangelists spewing anti-gay rhetoric, God’s desire for you to be rich, or the importance of division among the church over political views?

Peter Popoff, Jerry Falwell Jr., Joel Osteen, Creflo Dollar, Beny Hinn, Pat Robertson, Franklin Graham. They all preach monetary faith, they all preach wealth and power, they all preach political and social dominance. They preach America and Empire in suits that cost more than some people’s yearly salaries, from the pulpit of million dollar stages, after being driven to their church in a six figure car. Those ideas and ideals are antithetical to what Jesus, “the one who comes after,” actually spoke about.

John wasn’t standing in a dirty river telling the elite to come to him, he was calling all to him. Stating that he was baptizing them in water, but the one who would come after would baptize them in the Holy Spirit. He didn’t say that the baptism would be reserved for those who voted down a party line. He didn’t say that the baptism would only be for those who claimed a specific doctrinal belief or belonged to a specific church denomination. He didn’t say that the baptism of the Holy Spirit would be reserved for those that said “Merry Christmas.”

As a people belonging to this faith tradition, we absolutely must understand where we come from to understand where we’re going. We came out of corruption. We came out of religious power wielded by a moral majority of elitists who used that power to gain wealth and influence. That tradition is what Christ stood up against, leading a very small percentage of the wealthy, elite, upper echelon Jewish leaders to work with Empire in the killing of the Christ. We have our roots in that tradition, but John the Baptist and the Christ figure showed up and moved us away from earthly power and towards the river. Our inheritance is standing in dirty water.

As Americans, we were lucky enough to be born on the correct side of a man-made line on a map, at a specific time. As Americans, we have been born into a culture of dominance. As Americans, we have been born into a state-run temple, a theocratic system of government that we call democracy. As Americans, we have been born into a system defined by power, wealth, works. As Americans we have been born into a flag waving, gun toting, National Anthem singing, allegiance pledging, worshipping the golden calf of the stars and bars, love it or leave it, this-faith-and-these-colors-don’t-run church.

But, as believers, we are called to turn from those things that our country teaches us are important and turn to the one who truly is important. This is the repentance that John spoke of. Turning away from our own self, our own desires for advancement, and to turn towards a desire to advance all who are willing to step foot into that dirty river.

The Jordan River, the dirty water in the desert, with a madman shouting from it, is the great equalizer. It is here that we are called to turn away from corruption, power, greed, and towards equality, grace, humility. It is here that we are asked to show our unity with all who would step into the water. It is here that we are given the chance to meet the one who comes after.

I know that this feels like an incredibly political message, but I promise you that I don’t care what your politics are. I don’t. I care about you standing in that dirty water, humbling yourself when telling all to come, repent, and be baptized. To prepare themselves for who’s to come. Because the humbling and inclusion that happens, the renouncing of systems and power, that’s where you’ll find the one who comes after. Turning away from the structures we’ve built to separate, demean, demoralize, institutionalize, and weaponize; that’s where you find the second baptism; the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

John the Baptist calls us to humble ourselves. To repent. To make ourselves like those we try to fit into our molds. Those we try to clean up, pretty up, church up. John tells us to make ourselves their equal and stand in the dirty water.

Tisha lived her life in the dirty water and because of that, I found the one who came after her. I found him in a more profound way than I could have at seven. Or 13. Or 15. Or 17.

176 days after Tisha left this world, her husband married my wife and I. He was stoned and in pain and broken. He spoke softly, the exact opposite of how she would have been, and kept the service weird and short, exactly like she was. He spoke to the importance of love in life and in death.

373 days after she died, I found myself on my knees thanking the God that I swore did not exist. Thanking him for the beautiful, mystical wife he’d blessed me with. The painfully smart, hilarious, and earnest friends he blessed me with. And amazing, understanding, comforting, loving, and currently crying parents and family.

When I went looking for Tisha, I found humility and love and grace. I found pieces of her in every single person I’ve encountered over the last year.

I found the love she showed in her husband as he and I have journeyed through hell, relationships, faith, and whiskey this past year.

I found the hugs, crass humor, and desire to feed people she showed in a couple of vegan bakers that are trying to build community using baked treats and chili.

I found her deep-rooted, inclusive faith in a bar while having a beer with a pastor, and telling him that I believe in a resurrected Christ and an eternal God. I found her in the realization that this is the calling on my life, to teach. I found her in coming to terms with the last 10 years of my life being an inevitable journey through the wilderness, just so I could stand in the dirty water and say, “The one who comes after me…”

In the immortal words of Jack Black in this century’s Citizen Kane, School of Rock, you’re not hardcore unless you live hardcore. John the Baptist was hardcore because he lived it. Tisha was hardcore because she lived it. We are all called to be hardcore. We are called to be the voice in the wilderness. We are called to be the ones declaring the one who comes after us. We are called to stand in the dirty water and invite ALL to join us.

A close friend came out to last week’s sermon and told me that I didn’t offer up too much hope in my message. For those that felt the same, I do want to apologize. I’m the hope, guys. I was born in a double-wide and my dad still rocks a mullet. My wife and I live paycheck to paycheck. My friends and I have family style dinner at someone’s house once a week to save money on groceries. I have tattoos, I have blasphemed against God, I have sinned and I have failed my wife, my family, my friends, and my God more times than I have succeeded. But, despite all of that, the stack of items in the con-column versus the “He made us laugh” item in the pro-column, I am here. I was invited to stand in the dirty water and asked to proclaim the one who comes after me. Whether you were born the elite, or you borrowed gas money to get here, it doesn’t matter. We have all been invited into the water just the same. I challenge you to go out, into your lives and into your week, secure in the knowledge that you are good enough to step into the water exactly where you’re at. You don’t have to say the right words or know the right things. If a Pearl Jam fan is worthy to stand in that dirty water and make that proclamation, you are, too.

#sermon #church #faith #theology #advent #christian #believer #jesus #dirty water #john the baptist #mark #death #dead #dying

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mystictruth123456-blog · 6 years

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The random handicapped guy at the bustop part 1

What a two days, not only did I get kicked out of a club yeaterday for dancing with enthuasism but today i lost my return bus tick to harrogate. I had no money left. As i realized I lost it I looked to the left at this fella with lots of interesting pins on, I think he was handicapped. He was eating a chocolate bar and staring at me. Tito "does that taste good" Dude: "yea, I like sucking on things, do you like sucking on things?" Tito: "not particularly no" Dude "i like you, your a nice guy" Tito "thank you" Dude: "are you gay" Tito: "no, are you" Dude: "yes" Tito "I thought so" I explained my bus ticket situation. He told me that he would me an "exchange" I would just have to "suck" I declined. I left telling him "I hope you find many things to suck on" Life. Yesterday someone said they would give me a blowjob if I gave them my Id to get into the club. I just told them my drunk spanish friend was down. I shoudnt have messed with him because he lost his jacket and was sad. Why is this happening! Do I have a sign on my back saying "ask him if he wants a blowjob!" Anyway i asked a random guy for 5 pounds for my bus fair and he gave it to me (he didnt make me suck) Good people.

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woodsyboxingandlife · 6 years

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Roy Moore Is a P.O.S.

This Roy Moore character, I won’t even call him “Judge” because for lord’s sake, he was tossed from his seat, on two occasions, his case and how the public at large isn’t responding to the piling on of allegations, on the record, against him, is raising my BP.

This Moore clown…no, that’s too kind, too benevolent a characterization of an apparet predator…

This Moore fella is now running for a Senate seat representing the citizens of Alabama, sweet home to about 4.8 million people, too many of whom feel, polling tells us, that they don’t see Roy Moore as being anything other than deserving of the Senate seat given up by the current Attorney General, Jefferson Sessions.

They don’t see him as I do…which as a piece of shit. OK, I’m going with that one…harsh, reserved for the truly deserving…piece of shit.

Ouch, harsh Woods, some who have stumbled onto this, thinking I am writing about the latest great white hope in the heavyweight division or what have you. Nah, if you haven’t heard or read, this guy Roy Moore, who was a judge and then a DA in Bama, has a high regard of himself, to the point that he thinks he’d make a fine Senator. He is heading towards a place where he’s going to be the only one seeing himself as Senate material, as a continuing stream of allegations, and first-person publicly delivered accusations by women that declare that Moore, a grown man, engaged in at best unseemly and at worst straight-on sex assault of young ladies, if we are being politically correct, “girls,” some of them, if we are not, dribble out. One or two a day, now…

Five ladies, it was reported, said that Moore, who was bumped from his spot as Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court after two years because of overt religiosity, a refusal to respect the separation of church and state, was a super creep. But he still had that high assessment of self—he twice attempted to win the Governor job, and was rebuffed in the primaries. He got a second chance as Chief Justice in 2013 but again fumbled, after three years, showing blatant bigotry towards gays, by enforcing a state ban on same-sex marriage, which the Supreme Court invalidated.

So, if you are boiling it down, Moore finds it unlawful for two men to marry—but now a steady stream of ladies have come forward to relay that the man, now 70, was in decades past fast and loose with his own conduct. Moore, in the days following the allegations storm, admitted he’d date teens when he was in his 30s. They were over 16, he stated. Ewww, came the calls from a dare say a strong majority of decent minded beings, though many in and outside Alabama were dismayed when polling showed a devoted flock wouldn’t stray from their man Moore. These pro Moore stalwarts looked down on the aggrieved women who’d been harassed and seduced and/or molested by Moore back in the day, and said their sharing of the misconducts was nothing more than conspiracy politics, smear tactics by persons who apparently just deemed him such a titan of righteousness and political acumen that they decided he’d need to be character assasinated to remove him from the playing field.

So, to this point, people who’ve accused Moore of misconduct are painted, basically, as Hillary Clinton supporting Libtards. They’ve been dismissed and discounted, critiqued by Moore defenders who try to sound like Columbo when they say they find it strange that they are crying as they relay a story from 30 years ago. As if to say, how could being molested decades ago really, truly, actually bother someone so much today. You will not be surprised to know that most of the defenders are men, and painting themselves as being empathically deficient at best. And sub moronic cavemen at worst…

Some of these defenders, they seemingly just don’t comprehend how their defending of this track record of molestation reads to us with normal conscience levels. One guy brought on to cable news to be a Moore surrogate noted that Joseph was an older dude and Mary wasn’t of legal drinking age, so, c’mon, Moore was just boys being boys back then. It was the 70s, that is an excuse that comes up time and again.

It was no boys being boys, what Beverly Young Moore, a Trump voter, told media two days ago. She was 16, Moore age 30, an ADA, someone looked up to as a pillar of lawfulness. This was no horseplay gone awry when he drove with her, stopped, locked the doors, grabbed at her chest and tried to force her head to his groin. Rape attempt, is what she described. Yes, publicly, which some of these mega morons blinded by the disgraceful political climate that we are mired in point to as a point against her credibility.

She just wants attention, and money, they say.

That seems plausible to them, maybe, because that is maybe how they think…they find it so foreign that maybe someone would be holding on to such a painful memory that they go beyond their comfort zone, their fear of being disbelieved and ridiculed and shunned within the community.

"And he looked at me and told me, 'You’re just a child, and I am the district attorney. If you tell anyone about this, no one will ever believe you," Nelson said. Moore was, a paper reported, then an assistant district attorney in Gadsden, in northeast Alabama, from 1977 to 1982. You choose your description of Moore, will you? I won’t take issue with it, I bet, if you see this situation as I do.

I heard a whopper today that steams me. A lawyer Moore pays to cover for him said, "I've been with him in probably over 100 different meetings and been around probably in excess of 10,000 different ladies in Judge Moore's presence and not once, not one time, have I ever seen him act even remotely inappropriate against any woman."

Jesus H. C-Word, this man has a valid law license?

Friends, back in the day, I used to smoke pot. It was more illegal then. And can I assure you, in that time frame I didn’t spark it up in front of my mom and dad, or the principal, or any other person who I figured wouldn’t be A-OK with my deviation from lawfulness. Yeah, I hid it. As, common sense would tell you, and if you are half a sentient being or not someone being paid by Roy Moore, is what someone who seemed to be a serial perv/molester would do.

They’d sneak and slither and use their sneaky creepy methods to get their victims in a place safe for them to attempt their attack.

This Moore story is yet another one which cements the stark and sad state of where we are as a nation. We are citizens united, we are, too many of us, in our division…polarized by mind sets that virtually render us different species. 63 million people said yes, this guy who was accused of molestation or harassment by 11 women, who has a track record of stiffing vendors, playing the system by declaring bankruptcies, and defrauded innocents by promising a high level education experience and delivering an adult-ed night school status one, this is the guy we deem Presidential material. Who was on tape bragging about hitting on a married woman, and how he can walk up and grab a lady’s pussy because he is rich and famous and immune from blowback. This EXCEPTIONAL nation elected this crude con man, who walks around painted on orange spray tan year round and doesn’t get the memo that he looks like a buffoon, is an ethical black hole and you have to go back to our civil war experience to offer a similar era of instability of national morale.

Too many of those same Trumpers, it seems like, cannot ponder that this Moore off the rails story is anything other than a vast left wing conspiracy to make it so a Libtard gets the Session seat. That “reasoning” defies common sense, and points to an outbreak of madness. Because, c’mon it isn’t sane. As if we needed more evidence of that. Those that wish to hold on to power, at pretty much any cost, will over-look egregious examples of misconduct and duplicity and lying under oath to adhere to the higher power that so many of these politicians look up to, their God, their framework for living, their personal Constitution…enriching themselves, by securing and holding on to power, and the trappings, be it monetary, or ego-massaging, which come with it.

Oh, and let’s not even delve deep into the concurrent shit shows that are giving the DC follies a run for the money. The Cosby-Weinstein-Louis CK-(insert fallen idol of the hour-day here) quagmire is confirming what so many women who’d been targeted by “important” movers and shakers/liberty takers had figured out: sooo many guys use their power like a weapon. They dangle the possibility for upward mobility, or maybe even dispense with that, and just assume because they are well-known public figures they deserve to treat people like items on a buffet line. They do’t see a person, they see a tray of orange beef.

The ingredients missing in the Moores and the CKs and whoever is outed as a perv piece of shot tomorrow are…empathy.. decency…integrity..humility.

All these guys saw something, which was actually a SOMEBODY, with a feelings, and went after it. With rude voraciousness…they didn’t care or consider their actions would cause alarm, dismay, fear, terror, post traumatic stress. The millenials get smacked down for being entitled; this conduct that we’re hearing has been a Hollywood staple isn’t that the height of toxic entitlement. Aesthetic train wreck Weinstein because of his powerful seat didn’t need to match up his appeal level with a potential romantic or sexual partner, he’d be the sole arbiter if there was a “love” connection, because he saw not a human being, but a vessel to serve him, to please him. How Trump sees his office, I think.

Mark these words: Roy Moore will step down from his quest to serve his ego and be elected to the Senate. Might not be tomorrow, or the next day, but it will happen. And we can take some solace in that. Because our system of communication is not totally broken. People don’t often enough seek news, but corroborative evidence. The “news” they get from Fox News isn’t news, it’s a hit of an opiate, to soothe them, quell their anger at the state of society, and offer them alternative targets to puncture, so that their angst can dissipate for the moment, and they can avoid for another hour their disgust at the man in the mirror and the fallacy of the validity of the American dream. But truth still can win…it sort of seeps to the fore, caterpillar quick, and has to be lobbed to persons who don't even realize it but are actively avoiding it. The Roy Moores, the pieces of shit who deserve a jail stint more so than a Senate seat, still eventually do get what is coming to them. Of that, I still have faith.

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