fic moodboard inspired by loaf love by @daydadahlias

Ashton and Calum cat-sit for a weekend.

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks for the tag @accio-broom

How many works do you have on AO3?

13 but I’ll be adding my two chudleycanonficfest stories shortly.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

54,316

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3, just Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Harry Potter. In total, I’ve also written Gilmore Girls, Veronica Mars, Friday Night Lights, and Community. But everything but HP is just a one or two time indulgence. EDIT: I am trying to remember if I wrote The Office. I was huge into the fandom (and still remember Jenna Fischer’s MySpace post the day of the season 2 finale). I think I just read but if there was a Drabble somewhere on LJ, I wouldn’t be shocked.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I Think I Maybe Think Too Much (B99)

Amy plans on playing coy when she sees him but when she walks into work, Jake is sitting at her desk and he looks wrecked.

Legally Ginger (HP)

When Ron Weasley's college girlfriend declines his proposal because he doesn't meet her standard for a future husband, he comes up with a plan to let her see him in a new light.

Living Legend (HP)

During a night out with friends, Harry is confronted head on with his legacy as The Boy Who Blocks.

Looking Out (HP)

Harry Potter is always going to look out for his best friends - even if it means an awkward conversation or two.

Cost Nothing (HP)

"Compliments cost nothing, yet many pay dear for them." Thomas Fuller

When Harry and Ginny point out a shortcoming of Hermione's, she turns to Ron to set the record straight.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Almost always! I’m personally very bad at commenting to others (just sort of a weird piece of my anxiety) but so many of my favorite writers comment on my pieces and I want to thank them!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I struggle with angst (see: earlier referenced anxiety). The Second of June is I guess the angsty but that just ends with Molly embarrassed and Hermione irritated with Audrey. And I’m planning a sequel AND an alternate ending fic to address both those things.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

They’re all pretty happy. The Legally Ginger epilogue is going to be so damn fluffy.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

No unless you count the Scream/my high school class crossover I wrote as a junior.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really. I think that’s because I only have one multi-chapter and it’s based on a well-known movie.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

No because of lack of confidence. My characters talk around sex, maybe to an annoying extent.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No but I had a tweet stolen by a BNF in a certain community and it went viral. I had like, 28 followers at the time so not much to do about it. Fuck that guy.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t think so but I took a long break in my 20+ years of fandom so maybe I did in the early times and forgot.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but a popular Romione writer on Checkmated in the early aughts let me write an outtake to her story, which made me feel very famous.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Romione and Logan/Veronica

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have grand plans for a AU where Ron is the one that gets the Half Blood Prince book in Potions but not sure it’ll ever get to a place I feel good about.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. I fall asleep to The West Wing or Gilmore Girls every night. I’m good with a one-liner.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Setting the scene - so bad at that. And plot.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If I knew one, it’d be great.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Gilmore Girls - Team Jess

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Probably Living Legend. I think I had some great funny lines in that one and I liked having Ron and Hermione team up on Harry both adversarially and as cheerleaders.

But I also loved writing my AU 6th year Romione hookup/Ron/Lavender breakup piece. Loving giving Lav some love.

Tagging @mertronus @romioneb

tma fic recs? i went into ao3 and it was a mess

yeah it’s been slow-going for me too because of the amount of freak shit people post/have posted, as well as the fact that a lot of the high-kudos’d jm fics are from before s4 really ramped up their relationship development. and i’ve found i can get pretty picky about martin’s characterization. here’s a couple i’ve read and liked

(now with a read more because it’s gotten long) (updated 2/15/20)

the umbrella (4.6k) - mag160 fixit, probably my favorite fixit so far. includes canon-level non-graphic blinding. but it has a happy ending. it’s tma, i don’t need things to be light and fluffy all the time, i’m good with canon level darkness yk? as long as there’s a happy ending and the gays’ love for each other is pure.

feel the done days and you’re pulling through (1.8k) - jon deprogramming from being an avatar. living a very domestic and idyllic life. it’s adorable

all resistance wearing thin (4.7k) - ok this is the ONLY web!martin concept ive ever liked. bc it doesn’t make martin a crazy villain hes still himself and hes just NICE he LOVES people (aka jon). and we all like to indulge in a bit of mutually obsessive love. happy ending :)

some invitation of light (4k) - i love the joke that “martin is proof that playing hard to get works,” and this fic is in line with that. i’m picky about jealousy in fics but this one was enjoyable

ways to save the world (19.3k) - oooooogh urghhhhh jon gets trapped in the lonely and martin communicates to him through passages of poetry… im a total sucker for epistolary fics and this one was so GOOD

*

above all shadows (4.3k) - canon divergent from s4, written before the finale. very fairytale esque. theres some paragraphs in this that made me go HAM

catch and release (2.3k) - pre canon divergence au where theyre both avatars being spooky and doing a back and forth. martin is full lonely and jon got RAISED BY SPIDERS. somewhat edgy but in a fun way. we love creepy shit

agate, amber, amethyst (994) - short sweet and soppy. magpie jon is so utterly charming to me.

reciprocity (1.9k) - short and sweet caretaking stuff. both these bitches need to sleep.

always a reason (1.7k) - we love jon taking care of martin!! as he deserves!

pl: nuclei; but you only need one, anyway. (1.1k) - s3 phone calls with jon asking martin for research help. timezones. jon trying to stretch those “i care about you” muscles

1. can’t be helped (5.3k) 2. rituals (8.4k) - two fics in a series. very monster boyfriend. the first is martin losing his emotions to the lonely. the second is martin getting them back, but jon has been subsumed by The Archivist, which is figuring out what martin means to it. there was a moment in the second that made me go a little whoa hey! it was the archivist compelling martin. but it wasn’t anywhere near enough to make me stop reading. they were good, heartrending reads.

misshapes, mistakes, monsters (7.9k) - jon takes martin as his plus one to an oxford reunion. an enjoyable read, along with an almost cartoonishly villainous posh man. pining! “it’s nice to feel like i’m something worth protecting” arrrghhhh

small things, simple acts (6.6k) - post-159 fic. bookmarked this one! because they LOVE each other and TRY SO HARD for each other!!!! jon buys martin a stuffed cow because he saw martin looking at it and theyre TRYING for it. “There are a lot of things that Jon can’t give him, like safety or a normal life. But he can absolutely get him a stuffed toy just because he looks like he wants it.”

i’m almost me again, you’re almost you (12.9k) - you know when you try to feel feelings and it’s like touching a hot stove? that’s what martin does this whole fic as he’s recovering from the lonely and jon is being so achingly sweet and good with him, but martin can’t 1. deal with it just yet 2. believe that jon loves him back. post-159 fic. god. READING it felt like touching a hot stove, or stepping into warm bathwater with cold feet. jesus christ. excellent

fate, or something (107.8k) - this is that 100k blind date s1 canon divergence au, and i tried it out and i LOVED IT. martin has a spine! it’s just so sweet. they’re friends! martin works with melanie for ghost hunt uk! a great read. it’s that sloooowwww burn shit.

forever is composed of nows (5.9k) - jon meets martin (a single dad) and martin’s daughter (agnes! who had good writing for a child in a fanfiction) in the library and things grow from there. this fic is SO CUTE. it’s wonderful. i literally had to take breaks while reading it to make wild animal noises because i couldn’t deal with it. god. it’s so good. UGH (thanks to @infernallegaycy for the rec!)

and i won’t pray for an unfilled grave (5.9k) - daisy after coming out of the buried. daisira and daisy&melanie bonding. WOMENNNNN I LOVE WOMEN

*

hello my old heart (15.8k) - jess @thedistortion, the person who got me into tma and a dear pal, wrote this, and their brain is utterly huge and good. i love this so much. a deeply excellent post-159 fic that i would also say is pre-160. so many parts of this make me gasp and clutch my chest! but it also has an excellent realism to it. spiders that enrage me. please read.

yesterday is here (26.6k+, WIP) - post-canon jon and martin travel back in time and hang out with the pre-canon crew and attempt to make everything better. guaranteed happy ending. it’s so sweet watching jon be so kind and gentle and Better At People with his coworkers and make things right - and the s1 jon and martin fumble at seeing their extremely married and Knowing counterparts.

a measure outside the lines (22.9k) - i looove post-159 fics that show that martin hasn’t been completely severed from the lonely and still really struggles with it. this one is EXCELLENT at it. there’s some moments in this one that just made me totally ache because oh… oh martin. it’s so wonderful and has such excellent emotional catharsis

*

interlude (7.8k) - s3 au where georgie meets martin over facetime with jon! makes me wistful for the friendship they could have had without all the coping mechanisms in the way. the fond teasing is very cute. the pining! the banter! the slips of the tongue! very, very enjoyable.

skin deep (3.1k) - another s3 au where georgie meets martin on better terms - she calls him for help after jon’s meeting with jude (as jon’s locked himself in his room). the way jon leans on martin and lets him in and just… the way he behaves around him. very sweet.

bury my heart on the coals (3.6k+, WIP) - au where martin was one of gertrude’s assistants who is now a ghost haunting the archives. i’m enjoying how he’s so judgmental of jon and all the little signs of Haunting that jon and the assistants are experiencing.

nor any more youth or age than there is now (6.5k) - outsider pov of jon being a primary school teacher in scotland post 159!! so, so sweet. i LOVE outsider pov stories and this one is so good. jon using his powers to protect his students and displaying all that character growth he’s had… the glimpses of his domestic life with martin… it’s adorable. please check it out.

take sides in divided cells (3.4k) - in an idyllic domestic post-canon, martin’s father tries to reconnect with him. from jon’s pov, so it’s a lot of him worrying about martin and then being protective. oof! oof! emotional hurt/comfort.

pieces of you stuck on me (1.9k) - spy au. a little snapshot - i enjoy all the implied backstory going on. the thrill! the longing! the suspense! and i’m generally a sucker for spy aus, i’ll be real.

be kind, i beg you (14.9k) - post 159. oh this one is so achey… i love it. jon obsessing over “loved is past tense” and trying so hard to be Good to martin, while martin deals with mood swings from his recent emotional traumas. they try really hard and are very domestic, talk about gardening, and clean up the safehouse. LOVED THIS.

Much Beloved Dickinson

PART ELEVEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: plentiful pop culture references 

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: Ella comes to a realization.

Caught up in the music, Ella ran her hands through his hair. She felt his palms on her waist, firm but not too much. Not hungry. Sweet. He was sweeter than she thought he would be, a rain which refreshed instead of dampened. But then, the song switched. Ella felt reality coming back to her, unable to be shamelessly ignorant, indulging in her senses. Putting a hand on his chest, she pulled away from him. His hands still ghosted over her hips, not yet ready to let go. They breathed heavily, both flushed. Jess began to smirk, and Ella almost followed him, but then her face fell and she turned away.

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered to herself, clutching her necklace.

Jess furrowed his brows and reached out to touch her, not quite far enough. “Elle, I-”

“No, Jess. You have a girlfriend,” she spoke slowly, turning back to him. Her expression was guarded, unreadable. “And I just kissed you and you kissed me back. And you have a girlfriend and now we’re the kind of people who-”

“Wait, hold on, I can call Shane right now and-”

“Just like you’ll call me when the next girl comes along?” she interjected, crossing her arms over her chest.

Taking a step back, Jess couldn’t help but feel slightly wounded at the accusation. “There won’t be a next girl.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed, making to leave.

Jess barely had time to process what was going on before she was making her way down the stairs. But then, he started after her, calling her name.

“Can we just sit down and talk about this?”

“Nothing to talk about,” she shot back in a clipped tone, rushing down. Luke stood at the counter refilling stray coffee cups, and she didn’t cast him more than a second of a glance before going to grab her bag. “Luke, I don’t feel well. I gotta go.”

“What? Ella, wait-” Luke said, confusion etched on his features, but she had already disappeared down the street, out of the view of the diner’s window.

Bounding after her, Jess nearly made it out the door before Luke caught him by the shoulder.

“Get off me,” Jess growled, but Luke held firm.

“What happened up there?” Luke demanded, turning his nephew to look him in the eye.

Jess scoffed, finally shaking Luke off. “Nothing.”

“Oh, yeah? Where’s Ella goin’?”

“I don’t know, Columbo. Why don’t you go ask her?” Jess shot back, brow heavy and eyes dark.

Before Luke could continue with the interrogation, Jess slipped past him, the bell over the door ringing cheerily. Luke stood there for a moment, fuming, and didn’t bother to go after Jess to tell him he’d started in the opposite direction of Ella.

.   .   .

Thoughts racing, Ella sat against her bedroom wall, sketchbook in hand. Over the record player speakers, Jeff Buckley crooned. The summer evening had brought with it heavy thunderclouds. Air hot with lightning, Ella knew the rains would start soon. The dim light of the lamp on her nightstand gave her room a cozy glow, tinged pink from the paint on the walls. She wished she had watercolors. Back in the art room of Stars Hollow High, a series of her morbid drawings painted over with dull watercolor hung on a cork board. Unless, of course, Mrs. Shaw had taken them down over the summer. At least with the new school year, she could add some new pieces to her collection.

Even after a phone call with Rory, and another with Lane, she couldn’t shake the sick feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t identify its origin. Dread for school? Regret over Jess? Excitement over Jess? Guilt. That one she knew was present. Shane wasn’t exactly her best friend, but she certainly never planned to make out with her boyfriend as revenge. No matter how many Interpol songs he played her.

But it was the way he’d been looking at her, soft and clean. Unlike any look she’d seen him give anyone else. Of course, she’d had butterflies when he’d looked at her before. She’d never felt anything more, though. She figured it was a crush: a blushy, embarrassing phase which would eventually pass. Nothing to ruin a solid friendship over.

But as the song played, the one which reminded him of her, he shot her that brown-eyed look. With his smart mouth and his rough attitude and his hidden kindness. She knew it wasn’t a crush. It was more, something swelling in her heart like she couldn’t describe. Radiating from her soul and circulating throughout her being. And she’d seen no other choice but to kiss him. In a way, she felt so silly. Had she missed it all this time? Swapped books and spare t-shirts and care packages and borrowed beds. Jess.

She bit her lip, her pencil poised over her empty page. Nothing would flow, nothing would come. Everything was too jumbled inside her head. For a moment, she was tempted to just scribble mindlessly, but decided against it. Why waste a page on someone who didn’t really want her? She knew he didn’t. He couldn’t.

A sudden flash from childhood came to her. Her mother and father. The touches, the whispers, the small gifts which meant more than their price. Her parents had seemed the model couple, a love story which was meant to last forever, and be told as an inspiration to gullible children. But it didn’t last. Love didn’t last. Love didn’t exist. The feeling in Ella’s stomach, the look in Jess’s eyes, it was all a lie. People said they loved each other, but in the end, it was all a fleeting feeling.

With the murmurs of the new couple, Fiona and her father, coming through the neighboring walls, even over the music, she shook her head. Did they have love? She doubted it. Despite the modest rock on Fiona’s left hand. Jewels. It was flashy, sparkly, but it was just a stand-in for something substantive which didn’t exist. A stupid tradition masking a lie, like the basket sale with a much higher price tag.

Sighing heavily, she shut the book, tossing the pencil in the direction of her desk and missing. Huffing out a breath, she laid back against the king mattress, all squeaking springs, with dips on either side from where her parents had slept for so many years. Fiona had requested a new bed upon moving in. Ella had debated not taking it, but at the time the mattress had still smelled like her mother. It was too painful to let it go. The comforter was cool against her flustered skin. Ansty nerves rushed through her, buzzing. She wanted to forget it, to go about her business. Take an extra shift at the diner or go for a walk around town. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop replaying the moment over and over.

Employing a new strategy, she grabbed a book from the pile next to one of her crate nightstands. A reluctant smile crossed her face as she saw the cover. Final Harvest, the first Emily Dickinson collection she’d shared with Jess. And she tried to stare at the text, the beauty of the simple words. Instead she got caught up in the pencil marks covering nearly every page, every blank space. Between the blocks of messy cursive she recognized as her own, she ran her eyes over Jess’s countless comments, in his surprisingly neat, if spiky, scrawl.

You told me she wrote about flowers, not death. I feel criminally duped, Stevens.

Do you believe in ghosts? I bet you don’t buy that shit. I don’t either.

Shakespeare wrote so much about the sun, just like her. I don’t think the moon gets enough credit. You seem like a moon person too. (That’s code for vampire)

Scratch that, I changed my mind. You’re not a sun person or a moon person. You’re a star person. Definitely.

Okay, that line was pretty beautiful. You win this time, Eleanor. (The battle, not the war. I bet that Kerouac I just gave you will finally make you see the error of your tastes.)

Swallowing dryly, she bit back a smile. At his words, at his writing, at the thought of him. And, before she could think better of it, she flipped to the final page, to a note she’d run her fingers over more than once. And, after all the months she’d known him, she felt like she was really reading it for the first time.

Alright, I read your much beloved Dickinson.

I have to admit, she wasn’t half bad. You happy? I hope you are. But, rest assured, this isn’t over. I will convince you how good Hemingway is, no matter how close-minded about him you are. Yes, he was a drunk. But Dickinson was an invalid. It cancels out. No question. No quarter.

And there are so many more beats awaiting you. Some many fights we’re going to have. Can’t wait, right? Put on your dancing shoes, Stevens. The best is yet to come.

Turning her head, she gazed over the stack of books. Countless spines, tattered and new, broken and intact, all filled with notes. To the words, to the author, to each other. Mostly to each other. How could she not have seen it before? She thought he was her friend, maybe even her best friend. The one she saw every day, even in the absence of Rory or Lane. Who cheered her up on Mother’s Day, on her birthday, brought her a care package when she had a headache. But it had always been more. The feeling had always been there, underneath their layers of mock anger and annoyance, silly arguments and endless talks.

The knot in her stomach tightened even more, and she sat up straight in her bed. Lightning flashed outside, the sky an angry shade of grayish purple. A bruise. She didn’t know what she felt, she didn’t know much. But, suddenly, all the other thoughts went from her mind. And her desire was so singular all she could do was tug on her shoes, rushing out the door. It didn’t have to be decided. She already knew. She didn’t have to have it all figured out, but she knew there was no use in ignorance. Sitting in her room, letting the doubt close in on her. It was fruitless. Maybe once, the world wouldn’t bite.

.   .   .

Electricity filled the air, smelling of the storm to come, and it pressed down on the people of Stars Hollow. Few milled about on the streets, though most were hunkered down in their homes. A Saturday spent indoors, though not altogether wasted. She made it to the diner in no time, the soles of her converse smacking on the sidewalk as she bounded over and up the steps. The bell overtop the front door jingled, and a few customers peppered the tables, halfway through their dinners. Luke had his palms pressed against the counter, leaning over to talk to Lorelai as she sat at one of the stools. Ella made for the two of them immediately.

“Where’s Jess?”

Luke’s happy expression dropped and he sighed tiredly. “I don’t know. He stormed out right after you.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella nodded. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Luke said flatly.

Ella wanted to roll her eyes, but knew the sass was warranted. She had walked out in the middle of a shift, after all.

“What happened with Jess?” Lorelai chimed in, sipping on her nightly coffee.

Blowing out a small breath, Ella debated her next words carefully. “Remember when you told me not to fall for him? The torches and pitchforks conversation?”

Lorelai nodded, face darkening. If there was one thing she knew, it was teenage girls. “It comes to mind, yes.”

“Well, it’s too late. And it’s about to rain, a real killer for torches. Just a waste of money, at this point,” she explained dryly

Then, she had spun away, whisking out of the diner and leaving the two of them speechless in her wake. Urgency made her heart pound, though she knew it wasn’t dire. She could talk to him tomorrow. Maybe at the diner, maybe in the apartment, maybe in school on Monday. But, for whatever reason, she felt she might never get it out if she wanted a moment too long. She had to see him, to end the suspense, to rip off the bandaid which was nearly a year in the making.

First, she checked the gazebo. Empty. As was the bus stop where he often sat reading, waiting to leave for a shift at Shangri-la. But then it seemed so clear. The bridge. Of course. She raced over, biting at her polished nails. Lo and behold, he sat with a worn book in his hand. His legs dangled over the edge, boots nearly skimming the water. The hazy, cloudy evening darkened his form, and a wave of nerves washed over her when she saw him. Her heart was in her throat, but she pushed forward, one foot in front of the other.

“Jess.”

He looked up from his book as she approached him, tentative footfalls on the old wood. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied, and watched him stand slowly, rigidly.

He stuffed the novel in his back pocket and had his mouth set in a thin line, arms crossed. Clearing his throat, he watched her shift her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, gathering the courage to speak. It was odd, seeing her in such a state. On a normal day, she was nothing if not blunt.

Taking a deep breath, she matched his gaze. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean any of it about the next girl and everything. I don’t know where that came from. I just...panicked.”

“I’ll say.”

“Right. And I didn’t mean to. But...Shane’s not my favorite person in the world, but she doesn’t deserve it.”

Jess nodded solemnly. “Guess not.”

Another deep breath, and she continued. “Did you…?”

“I broke up with her, yeah. Despite the vehement protests,” Jess said. He ran a hand over his mouth, and reminded himself not to get his hopes up. Not after so long keeping them down.

“Okay. Well…” she trailed off, struggling for words. But, eventually, it came to her. The truth, the words spilling from her mind directly to her mouth. “Look, Jess, most of the time, I don’t see the point in dating. I don’t see people who actually care about each other. I see people who are kidding themselves.”

“I know,” he said, a sigh in his words. She could see his shoulders slouch slightly, and he bowed his head a little in defeat, preparing for the words he thought would come next.

“But that’s most of the time.”

Jess looked up again.

“Not since...not since you got here. Not when I’m with you.”

A small smile began to grow on his lips and his eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she answered, ringing her hands in front of her anxiously as she spoke.

Nodding again, he took a few steps forward, until she was close enough to touch, but he kept his arms over his chest. “Okay.”

“Well, don’t overshare, chatty Kathy,” she quipped at his shortness. The smirk lasted only a second on her face before the serious expression she’d been holding returned. “But if we’re gonna do this, I wanna do it. No cop-outs. I want to try. Really try.” Then, after a pause: “What about you?”

The dimple in Jess’s cheek shone as his smile widened. He uncrossed his arms and shrugged as though he were cavalier. “Eleanor, you’re the only person I wanna talk to. You’re the only person I like. You’re the person I wanna try with.”

Finally, a matching smile bloomed on her face and she let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding in. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

“Well, I’m glad we sorted that out.”

“Me too.”

A momentary pause ensued between them. Joy surged in Jess’s heart, but he suddenly felt nervous, even awkward. Cheeks warming, he wanted to reach out to her. But he couldn’t find it within himself. It didn’t seem real. She didn’t seem real. He almost felt like he needed a moment to regroup. But, then, Ella shifted and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. Thunder sounded overheard, rolling over town.

“You wanna go somewhere?” she asked.

“Anywhere,” he replied, a smirk on his face, hand relaxing in her grip.

“Well,” she said, leading the way back to town and giving his hand a squeeze, “that narrows it down.”

Diary of an Emotional Masochist, Chapter One: Dignity and Shame

I am an emotional masochist. I’m the kind of person, who, when I’m already going through a bout of nostalgic melancholy, will decide to read old journal entries or look through old photographs. The kind of person who, when it’s three a.m. and I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about what loves have come and gone (to borrow a phrase from Edna St. Vincent Millay), will get up and Google search those loves. I am the kind of woman who, when I’m already sad, will listen to an album that devastates me. I have a long list of albums that it’s almost too painful to listen to, albums that remind me of such specific times in my life that listening to them takes me right back to where I was then. A different person would purge their record collection and iTunes library of such albums, but, like I said – I am an emotional masochist. On lonesome evenings, after a couple glasses of whiskey, nothing sounds better to me than spinning one of those records (or queueing up one of those playlists). This is one of those lonesome-whiskey evenings, so won’t you join me in indulging? We’re listening to Crooked Fingers’ Dignity and Shame.

From the first sparse, haunting notes of “Islero,” I am transported back in time to the summer of 2005. God, that summer. That terrible, wonderful summer. I’d fucked up my life the year before, and I thought that would be the summer I’d fix it, except all I did was fuck it up even more. God, that summer. That March, I moved away from Chicago after living there for five years. I planned on moving to Milwaukee come autumn, to start fresh in a fresh town. In the meantime, I moved back in with my parents. I wasn’t home, much. Nights, after work, I went to one of the two bars in Kenosha where all my sad drunk hoodlum friends hung out. On days off, I walked in the woods – the heat was relentless, and the canopy of trees offered cool green comfort. Or I drove to Chicago to see shows and drink with my friends and try to remember why I’d left; drove to Milwaukee to scope out neighborhoods, sit for hours at the Hi-Fi Cafe, go record and dress shopping. On one of my record shopping expeditions, I bought Dignity and Shame. It was on the Staff Recommendations shelf, and I liked the cover art, so I took it home with me – and it was serendipity, it was exactly the album I needed at the time.

As soon as I got home, I set it spinning on my turntable, and the first track – “Islero” – gave me goosebumps. The second track – “Weary Arms” – made me cry. It had sad cellos and a lonesome cowboy guitar, and Eric Bachmann’s voice was a raspy baritone: Beware of strangers knocking at your door. Old lovers, too. Don’t think for one second they’ve forgotten you. Oh, oh, oh. By the time the final, hidden track played, I’d melted into a puddle of tears and goosebumps on my bedroom floor. The album destroyed me, and it spooked me because so many of the stories sounded like things right out of my life, both from that year and six or so years before it. It was like Eric Bachmann had read my diary and set it to music. I wanted to write him a letter and say: “Get out of my head, god damn it! Get out of my aching heart.” It’s impossible for me to write about Dignity and Shame, or about the summer of 2005, without descending into hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. My God, that summer was hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. I was still young enough that it was acceptable to feel things that intensely, acceptable to talk about a sunrise over Lake Michigan by saying things like: “When the light shot through the horizon in streaks of peach and gold, it was the most god damn beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Dear diary, listen to me.

My “Weary Arms” wrapped tight around so many lovers, that summer – four of them, plus a handful of brief flings. Later that year, I lamented that I hadn’t had as many wild love affairs as I’d had in years past, which, yes, says something unflattering about me. And Eric Bachmann sang: You have many enemies, for reasons no one’s certain of.

One night, while I sat at one of the bars and waited for my friends to arrive, a girl approached me. I didn’t know her, but she knew me. She sat down across from me and lambasted me for sleeping with a guy she’d been dating at the time…two years before. She called me a slut, and some worse things. I wanted to buy her a drink, to appease her. I couldn’t understand why she hated me so much. When I slept with that guy, I had no idea he had a girlfriend. So many enemies, so many lovers, but could a jaded girl like me heed an uptempo “Call To Love?” In that song, Eric took the role of a particular one of my lovers, and said: Won’t you hear my heart? I’m transmitting a call to love. On a night when the moon was orange-red and luminous, that lover said: “The moon is the color of your hair.” Another night: “You were born in the wrong era, Jess.” And, though I was a sucker for sentimental poetry, my guard was up. Lara Meyerratken answered for me: Don’t need my heart kicked ‘round the block no more. You may be smooth-talking, daddy, but I’ve heard it all before. I traded gossip with the “Twilight Creeps.” In this sweet-sad song with the bright piano and the shimmering backup vocals, I was both the singer and the sung about. I could have sung it to one of my lovers, should have said to her: Flower, don’t dig so deep so you don’t go anywhere. But the words were also about me: You say someday you’re gonna float away. Take yourself some kind of holiday. I often told my sad drunk hoodlum friends, the twilight creeps, that I needed to get the hell out of town. “If I could just get gone for more than a few days, go somewhere more than a few hours away…there ain’t no use in trying to make me stay.”

My lovers all wanted to make me stay. The flower-girl, I’ll call her Valerie. The one who spoke poetic words to me, I’ll call him Jack. And there was Lon, and Carmine. In different ways, for different reasons, they each wanted me to choose them over all the rest. Even a few of the week-long flings and one-night stands, older punk guys or younger hippie girls, said things to me like: “How did I get so lucky as to meet a girl like you?” Or: “So, are you my girlfriend now?” And when I said no, they called me a heartbreaker. A “Destroyer.” It’s a woebegone cowboy of a tune. Doleful drums, piano that tinkles like ice cubes in a bar glass, and a lap steel guitar – which, as far as I’m concerned, is the aural equivalent of an anti-hero walking off into the sunset. The song is all about how the singer is going to make someone his, and then he’s going to leave them behind. When they called me heartbreaker, I wanted to sing it: Lay down, just let it come, and resign your heart, today, to get blown away. “Valerie,” well, that’s why I’m referring to that lover as Valerie. Much like me, she was a punk rock girl turned heroine of a Tom Waits song (heroine of a Crooked Fingers song). She had thriftstore dresses and jailhouse tattoos and self-inflicted scars. “Valerie,” the song, has a sanguine strut, is a besotted love song, and I thought of Valerie, the girl: Red roses, silk, you in your sleek summer dress. You were light, revelation, oh, I love you the best. But she and I kept our love unspoken. We both had other romantic complications, and only touched each other on long hot nights after too many bottles of wine and too many pills. “Sleep All Summer” was my song for Jack, the young ex-goth whose mouth was pink and pouty like he’d been sucking on a strawberry popsicle. Our love was either all the good songs and kissing ’til our lips were raw, or it was screaming matches and hangover headaches. What bliss is this, and then he’d get attention-starved and whiny, and I’d burn hot and cold and say nasty things, and we’d say: “This is it, we’re through.” But – There ain’t no way we’re gonna find another, the way we sleep all summer. Why won’t you fall back in love with me? And we’d run into each other at the bar, and faster than our friends could say I told you so we’d be tangled up in the backseat of his car or rolling around by the lake, and the whole thing would start all over again. He’d play the martyr, and I’d say: I would change for you, but babe, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be a better man.

And “Coldways” kill cool lovers. Lon was a folk singer from the north woods. He’d been one of my best friends for years already, and when we started dating I was so tired of complicated, fiery relationships that I mistook comfort for True Love. My heart still hurts when I think of how I hurt him. He wanted me to marry him and I just wanted to be drunk and in love, to listen to “Coldways”’s thrumming, swelling sound. To sing along: Come out, come on, tonight the city’s alive. “Wrecking Ball” has a jaunty, punchdrunk piano, and the piano had been drinking, but so had I. God, I drank so much that summer. On the rare night I spent at home, I holed up in my room, wrote long, sad, tales of people in the legend of my life, and drank blackberry brandy mixed with Sprite. Something like that would taste over-sweet to me now, make me shudder, but maybe the same part of me that craved sentimental poetry also thirsted for sugary drinks. And most nights, I wasn’t at home. Most nights, I changed clothes in my car after work. I swapped my reeking-of-pizza button down shirt and black slacks for one of my vintage dresses. A mint green confection, or a pink and white sundress. Something from the ‘50s, blue with red and white polka dots, or a slinky black number that a ‘30s jazz singer would have worn. And I sat at one of two bars, drank whiskey and Coke, or brandy old-fashioneds, or gin and tonics all night long. I waited for my friends to arrive, and I drank and smoked and entertained myself with one of the items I always had in my bag – a book of poetry by Dorothy Parker or Edna St. Vincent Millay, a deck of Alice In Wonderland tarot cards. And sometimes, someone would find me intriguing. I swear, I wasn’t a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but… I was a redhead in a retro dress (usually with a strand of fake pearls, too) sitting in a dive bar, smoking pastel-colored cigarettes, reading sonnets and tarot cards. Christ. Often, someone found me intriguing, chatted me up, and I wound up with yet another lover. I was a destroyer, destroying myself with booze and love. I was a wrecking ball. Eric Bachmann, accompanied by that barroom piano, sang: And you laughed and you danced, and it let you feel fine for a while. Hanging out with the kids who you knew soon would fall out of style.

I’ve left two songs out, dear diary. I did it on purpose, because they are the two that hurt the most. They are also the two that heal the most. The kind of songs that make me weep, then tell me to dry my tears. “You Must Build A Fire,” oh, it is one of the saddest songs. It begins with only two guitars (a finger-picked lead and that god damn lap steel again), and Eric’s voice is so plaintive, sounds like it’s about to crack, and he sings: Oh, gracious love, you were so kind to me. You only broke my heart, let my arms and legs stay strong. So I could swim upon the open sea, searching for another love. Floating along aimlessly. I haven’t told you about Carmine, yet. Carmine was a musician who looked like a magician from an old-time carnival. The year before, he’d ruined me in a worse way than any other lover ever had. (As a friend put it, he was one of the ones who fucked me up so bad I was pretty much ruined for anyone else.) He ruined me, but I let him back into my life. That summer, we got together. It was supposed to be closure, but of course it just opened everything up again. He said: “I want to be with you. I want to try again.” I said: “Okay, yes, let’s start over. I want to be with you.” He said: “Only if you break things off with all your other lovers. I want to be your only.” The nerve, giving me an ultimatum like that when he was even more of a notorious libertine than I was. And the song sang: I had someone, a love I thought was true. But sometimes you just get tired, and you must try not to die. And give your love, though no one may receive. You must build a giant fire, for the whole wide world to see. It sounded like that whole heartbroken, hot summer. Oh, where are you, love?

The title track, “Dignity and Shame,” is a piano ballad that told me: To be sure, there ain’t no cure. There could be no one to save you. It is the track I return to over and over, more than any other track on the album. Though my life has calmed down a lot in the decade since that summer, sometimes – that feeling comes, you’ve been here once before. That wicked feeling you don’t want to feel no more. And then, Eric Bachmann (get out my head, god damn it!) sings: You’re not the same as the day that you came. You can choose dignity, or shame.

I choose dignity. I carry my broken heart like a torch in the night. Little keeper of light, burning deep, burning bright in the dark.

[originally appeared in Witchsong in October 2015]

The Intern - Part 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: You are an intern at MSG, strictly forbidden to become involved in with any of the Rangers players. However, this becomes difficult when you catch the eye of a certain player. Word count: 2k

Warnings: none, this is the second to last part though!! and I wrote this kinda quick I'm so sorry if there are typos towards the end don’t hate me

Things were finally looking up. Were they perfect? No, you imagined the next few months staying away from Lias would be hard. However, knowing at the end of it there would be a chance to make it work was enough to make you giddy.

So giddy that you didn’t notice how Beth barely returned your hello when you walked in this morning. Nor did you notice her tone when she asked you to meet her in her office in five minutes. If your head hadn’t been in the clouds, thinking about what could be in a few months from now, you may have been a little more prepared to walk into her office and see-

“Lias,” you heard yourself gasp. He was sitting at one of the chairs of her desk, looking like a kid that called down to the principals office.

“Have a seat,” Beth said sternly. Your stomach dropped. She knew. But how? Did someone tell? Did Lias tell? No, he wouldn’t, not after your talk. He wouldn't do something so shitty to you, you knew that. “Do you two know why you’re here?”

You both remained silent. Of course you knew, but what the hell were you going to say? You couldn’t show your hand until you knew exactly what she knew and how much detail.

Beth reached into her desk and pulled out two photos, which she placed down in front of the two of you. It was pictures of you when you went out to talk. One was through the window of the coffee shop and the other was you two hugging on the steps. 

“How did you get these?” Lias asked what you were thinking. Your stomach churned at the thought of someone watching you and taking pictures without you even knowing. 

“They were posted on a Ranger’s blog that I found while looking for something for a story,” Beth replied, “But the bigger problem is that these even exist. Care to explain why you’re blatantly breaking my rules?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you blurted out.

“Please, y/n, don’t bull shit me,” Beth replied flatly. 

“It wasn’t anything, seriously,” Lias jumped in, “We are friends and we went out for coffee. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is I have rules for my interns not to spend alone time with any of the players and y/n went behind my back and did it anyways,” Beth said, turning to you and shaking her head. You felt tears pressing at the back of your eyes, but the last thing you wanted to do was cry right now. You knew Beth would not take kindly to that.

“I’m sorry I-”

“Save it, I don’t want any excuses. I’ve seen the way you two interact. I thought it was just a close professional bond, but now seeing this... I’m sensing something more is going on between the two of you. I can tell when I’m being lied to. I trusted you a lot and you broke that. I’m going to have to let you go,” Beth told you.

“What! You can’t do that,” Lias snapped.

“I’m sorry but that’s not up to you,” she said.

“I’ll quit, I’ll change teams, whatever, I don't know, but you can’t she needs this,” Lias stumbled over his words as he defended you. You were trying to focus on your breath, feeling you were right on the edge of a panic attack.

“You know you can’t do that, Lias,” Beth replied, unamused by his efforts, “You can go now.” Her and Lias stared at each other for a few moments, before Lias turned to you.

“Just go,” you mumbled. Lias let out a heavy sigh, and you swore you heard an “I'm sorry,” under his breath. The silence in the room after he left was so heavy. You wished you could shrivel up and just die right there. Beth must have sensed how awful it was making you feel because she sat with it for some time.

“In three days the team will have an off day. You can come in then when no one is around and get your things,” Beth told you, “You can leave now.” 

You got up, wordlessly and headed for the door. You were afraid If you spoke you wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. However, right before you left you said, “I’m really sorry.”

“I am too,” Beth replied, “I’ve never been so disappointed.” And with that, you left, managing to keep your tears in until you were back on the street.

____

The next three days were a tortuously slow whirlwind. With crying, lots of crying. It had turned a bit into a pity party, which made you feel pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. At least Jess indulged your moping, never making you feel bad about being a mess.

Between your crying and staring blankly a the wall wondering how your life could have blown up like this, you were desperately searching for an alternative internship placement. You hadn't told your school yet that you were leaving... or getting fired. You thought if you could find something else you could smooth it over by saying it wasn’t a good fit to your schedule or something and it wouldn’t raise many eyebrows. However, at this stage in the game, any placements were already taken, and you wondered how you would explain to an potential supervisor.

“Why are you coming to us months into the semester? A little late isn’t it?”

“Well you see, I was caught having a romantic relationship with one of the players, breaking the only real rule given to me.”

Yeah, that would go over well. With each day that passed, you felt more hopeless. Lias texted you. And called you. You wanted to talk to him, but you just couldn’t. You weren't mad at him, he wasn’t at fault. It was the rule you broke after all and he stood up for you in Beth’s office when you couldn’t find the words. However, talking to him, facing everything that was going on just felt like too much. 

You did manage to text him a short message that you were okay (ha!) and that you would talk to him when you had things figured out because you owed him that much. You tossed your phone away before you could tempt yourself with reading any of the messages he left.

There was a brick in your stomach when they day to clear out your desk finally came. You felt like you were going to your execution - dramatic, you knew - but you couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. The only saving grace was that none of the players would be there and that the office would be relatively quiet since it was an off day. With any luck you could get in and out and not have to interact with a single soul.

You managed to get into your office without any outside contact. You shut the door behind you, hoping no one would notice you were there. You bit back tears as you began to pack up your things into a tiny box. You were only there a short time, but it all felt so special. Partially because of the amazing experience and doing what you had dreamt of doing since you were a little girl, sitting wide-eyed watching the Rangers play... but partially because of Lias. 

You were realizing now that he meant a lot to you, more than you were letting yourself believe. He wasn’t just some guy you wanted to hook up with, he was a guy you wanted to be with. He had a way of making things feel special and exciting that no other lover was ever able to match.

Just as you were thinking you wish you could see him, the door to your office pushed open. You held your breath, thinking it might be Beth to scold again, but it was Lias. You let out a soft gasp, feeling like you somehow had conjured him.

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” he said. He eyed you sympathetically, his soft blue eyes filling you with the greatest sense of peace in the last 72 hours. You couldn’t think of what to say, so you just flung your arms around him. He squeezed you tightly, almost to the point where you couldn’t breath, but you loved it.

“What are you doing here?” you asked when you finally managed to peel yourself away.

“I had to see you,” he replied, smiling faintly, before adding, “I also have something for you, but I gotta show you.” He took you by the hand and pulled you out of the office. You wanted to resist, feeling like you were most definitely pushing It by holding his hand, but what did you have to lose? You were already fired.

Lias led you down the hallway, towards the locker room. You wondered what he had that he had to show you here. When you stepped into the locker room, you were met by nearly the entire team Your brows furrowed in confusion. Had you miscounted the days in your stupor and came in the wrong time?

Before you could speak, a familiar voice asked what you were thinking, “What is this?” You spun around to find Beth being led into the room by Mika. 

“We’re all here for y/n,” Lias spoke up, “We don’t want her fired.” Lias stood in front of them all. There were players, such as Fil and Kaapo, that you’d only talked to on occasion. They were nice, but you weren’t close with them like you were with Mika or even Chris. You were surprised, but incredibly moved that they were there in support of you.

“That’s not yo-” Beth tried to speak, but she was cut off.

“But it is,” Lias replied firmly, “No one has been so kind to us all. All you reporters care about is the story, y/n cared about us. She made us all feel special. MSG is as much her home as it is ours, and we won’t play if she isn’t here to ask the questions after.” Everyone nodded in agreement as Lias spoke.

“Seriously?” Beth questioned.

“Seriously,” Mika replied, putting his arm around Lias, “No one should be punished for caring about someone. We all know how great y/n is, she isn’t going to let anything get in the way of that, romantic relationship or not. Let her stay, or you can explain to everyone else why we are suddenly forfeiting games.” 

Beth was shocked, and honestly you were too. You couldn't believe they were all doing this for you. You didn’t feel worthy, but you were eternally grateful, even if it didn’t work. The longer the room was in silence, the more you thought Beth was going to tell them no deal, but finally she relented.

“Fine, y/n can stay.” The room erupted in cheers, and you couldn’t help but let out a squeal yourself. Beth seemed displeased, speaking directly to you, “We are going to talk about this tomorrow. Be here your normal time.”

The second she left the room, Lias’s arms were around you, spinning you around in a tight hug. You giggled, feeling absolutely on top of the world, even though you were sure you were in for it tomorrow. You didn’t care, though, you’d rather be miserable with an internship than miserable without one.

“Lias I... I can't believe you did this,” you gushed, “I can’t even thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,” Lias smiled, “You deserve this. More than anyone I know.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and for the first time you kissed him without any concern in the world. That pulled a few “oohs” from the younger players. You and Lias chuckled as Mika and Chris shooed them from the room.

“This internship is the best thing that ever happened to me,” you sigh, brushing the golden locks out of Lias’s eyes.

“Because it led to meeting some stupid boy?” he teased, though he didn’t realize how right he was.

“No,” you replied, “because it brought me to you.”

👫 ford nd bradley

send a 👫 and I’ll write four headcanons i have about our muses’ relationship.

i feel like they have a recurring theme of rooftops.... they’re always hanging out on them historically in threads bt i also feel like they have a couple of different things they do on rooftops. obviously a staple is drinking an atrocious amt n smoking until their throats r hoarse with it bt. i feel like once bradley invited him to a rooftop in college n when he arrived she just had a duffel bag w a bunch of watermelons in. how had she lugged them all up there i honestly dnt know. n it would be a weird cathartic thing in a way of just. hurling them off n watching them splat on the pavement a few stories below. inevitably once bradley said smthn rly alarming bt she’d say it in her nonchalant way like. sometimes i picture it as my skull when it cracks open. all tht gutted fruit kind of looks like brain if u stare long enough. if u know what brain looks like. know what i mean? n she’d look at him n smoke n do a small smile like tht wasn’t the most horrific thing to say in a casual conversation..... Just Bradley Things <3 bt then also maybe this wld evolve into a fun thing where she brings a sharpie n they draw someone they kno tht pisses them off on the watermelon to give it a face before they toss it. she probably drew elias once n before she threw it she was like She Slept In My Bed! Sh-sh-sh-sh-she Slept In My Bed! pretending to remix him crying at the party tht time before lobbing it n laughing when it exploded into mulch. mayb once it hit a car windshield of a professor n the alarm started blaring n they were like. shit. n had to run away. bradley wld laugh as they ran she finds chaos amusing

i dnt think they’ve ever kissed tht i can recall???? n in a way bradley is probably kind of thankful fr tht. it’s like when ur a kid n u shut ur eyes like somehow that means the monster won’t b there bc u can’t see it. her eyes r very much shut to the concept of ever actually indulging tht want bc it just is clearly.................. a doomed possibility tht she knows shd be let go. black balloon by the kills playing in the bkground. even if they were in a situation where they got told to kiss as a dare or smthn like that i feel like bradley wld deflect from the dare being given n start roasting a random npc tht had given her the dare just fr the sake of shifting the focal point of conversation n avoiding it. it’s jst a bit like giving a crumb to a starving person n expecting them to nt want to eat more. it’s better to have nothing at all than to get a taste of something bt know u’ll never be allowed to feel full. he’s destined to get married n have bebes with vee n bradley knows this n knows she’s destined fr........ something else shall we say! reminds me of the new girl nick n jess scene where he doesn’t wna kiss her on the dare n she’s like why not let’s jst do it n he blurts out NOT LIKE THIS!!!!! n she’s like huh.... except the roles r reversed n bradley wldn’t say tht it’s just. the sentiment. it’s a nice daydream every so often when she’s drunk enough to nt be able to ignore it bt that’s what it’ll have to remain <3

ok so building from tht one time when she vanished fr a month to mexico n didn’t even contact anyone except fr ford in the form of rly weird concerning postcards when... she was unravelling a little mentally..... they were mostly incoherent n just saying random choppy sentences that didn’t quite cooperate with one another n just.... making strange jokes n doing little drawings n whatever..... bt i feel like there was one that was the least nonsensical of them all tht bradley never sent to him bt she just kept it fr herself n the front was a beach at night where nothing was rly visible except fr the moon in the water n everything was almost jet black. n on the back she just wrote “i don’t want to be scared any more.” bradley hates being vulnerable w her emotions so much n any admission of a bad feeling she categorises in her brain as stupid n childish bc of her dad’s brainwashing so idk if she wld ever share this w him n..... she’d usually expect herself to erase the evidence n rip this up into pieces n throw it away bt she just can’t bring herself to. she doesn’t know why. in a way it feels like the only physical manifestation of the trust she has in ford tht she’s ever been able to put her hands on n hold. n even if it makes her feel small tht isn’t something she can bring herself to get rid of. subconsciously she doesn’t wna give up on the idea tht someone is still capable of reaching her like tht

lastly. idk if u remember tht one time she lived in a loft n she ws rly depressed n she just let a bunch of randoms come in n party in her place all the time n she ended up w so many strangers jst.... squatting in her place n partying 24/7 she’d hv to lock herself in her bathroom if she wanted to b alone fr a minute to breathe in her own place... she jst was not doing well.... which was made most evident by the fact she splashed a bunch of black paint of her white brick wall n painted out a rly messy weird scrawled lump of a Thing with holes for eyes and teeth. it kind of looked like a wolf bt nothing Of This Realm. if we’re being real it ws meant to be her dad n how he’s always with her no matter where she is jst Looming. she was just.... Not Okay to say the least bt. i feel like one time she wld have greeted ford if he came over n she’d just b in her rage against the machine tank n no pants smoking lking so run down.... someone get her a banana bag iv..... some vitamins.... please im begging..... n anyway i jst feel like if he saw that on her wall n saw all the people there he’d evict them for her bc she was at a point where she honestly didn’t care abt anything so wouldn’t even think to do it herself n maybe he’d come back w white paint n go over it once she’d finally let herself crash enough off 45987425 drugs to get a few hrs of sleep..... jst like...... them being there fr each other is always thru indirect acts i feel rather than actual acknowledged words n. sighs. i can just see this being the conclusion to tht whole destructive narrative or at least an attempt to rectify it. again bradley hates being vulnerable bt she wld just rly briefly be like. thanks. nt even looking him in the face n then just change subjects like she hadn’t said it. ask if he wanted to go to a dive bar n shove ppl over in mosh pits so they gt stampeded like mufasa fr the thrill

Casey Affleck Is a Full-Time Flag Football Coach, Part-Time Actor

The quiet Affleck is known for soul searching performances, but mostly he's just trying to call the right play.

Looking for Casey Affleck? Head to the park. It’s where he’s doing some of his finest work — and spending a hell of a lot of time. 

“My son got into flag football so I started coaching it,” says the actor and father of two. “I coach his team and then the parents of his friends asked me to coach their team. I coach three flag football teams and a baseball team.”

The last time we saw Affleck, 43, on screen, he was a burnout saddled with raising a nephew he didn’t want after his own kids died in a house fire. The sublimely quiet performance earned him a best actor Oscar for Manchester by the Sea. But it was just a performance. Despite his introverted public persona — so much for that Ocean’s 11 loudmouth — Affleck is incredibly present in his children’s lives and specifically on the sidelines of their various games. In fact, Affleck explains that he has eschewed blockbusters to ensure he has time with his sons, Indiana, 15, and Atticus, 11. He didn’t want to show up after they were already out of the house. He wanted a major role in their lives.

But don’t think that his turn as a dad is a conventional leading man part. The actor who plotted a murder as a sociopathic teenager in Gus Van Sant’s 1995 classic To Die For, the guy who gunned down Brad Pitt in 2007’s The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, isn’t what you’d call a cool dad. He says he lectures his sons, annoying them constantly. “Here’s a tip,” he laughs. “If you’re driving in a car with two kids and you turn around and see they’re both wearing headphones, you’re talking too much.”

Still, that’s not going to convince Hollywood’s most notoriously reserved star to stop talking.

“I could talk about my kids all day. Being a parent has taught me more about myself and about life than any other experience I have ever had. I want to soak up every minute of it. It’s a priority I’m happy I have,” says Affleck, who will debut Light of My Life, an exquisite yet grounded film he wrote about a father and daughter navigating a post-apocalyptic world this summer. He says the science fictional elements are sort of a metaphor for his anxieties as a parent. (Not-so-much the flag football playcalling anxieties. More the bigger stuff.)

Affleck spoke to Fatherly about being a nearly full-time youth sports coach, how parenthood changed his career, and how his sons influenced his new film.

I’m told you are quite the dedicated coach. Are you, like me, all about winning?

I’m that coach inside, but I try to contain it. I love doing it. I was never into football when I was a kid. My son got into flag football so I started coaching it. I coach his team and the parents of his friends asked me to coach their team. I coach three flag football teams and a baseball team.

Coaching to me is incredibly rewarding. To have the kind of relationship with your kid in a different way is really great. They come home and they critique my coaching style. They write plays for me. They do it with me. It’s an extra little bonding experience. Also, I get to know other kids. When you’re the coach, they give you a kind of authority you don’t deserve. There’s a lot of trust and respect. There’s a mob of kids over here at the house all the time. They don’t always listen, but when you’re their coach, it’s a different relationship.

When I talked to you a few years ago, you were wary of even revealing your first son’s name. How have you kept them out of the spotlight? I mean, look at your brother Ben Affleck. He gets it so bad.

He does get it bad. If you’re two celebrities who are married, that is just gossip and fodder and crack. It’s double trouble. Jennifer Garner being so famous and Ben… they just get the worst it. I hate it for my nieces and nephew. It’s so intrusive. It’s so awful. They manage it really well. They talk to the kids about it and explain it. With my kids, I think it helps that the paparazzi don’t care about me that much, which is amazing and thank God for that. I was really vigilant early on about protecting my private life and making choices that would keep me out of the spotlight. I didn’t do that much press. I wouldn’t talk about my kids. But my kids now give me career advice. They’re old enough.

Like what tips do they give you?

My son told me I had to get a verified Instagram account. My heart sank. I need all the help I can get. My son is 15 and knows what it is. At a certain point, you can protect from the world but then you have to move into the world with them. To me, that has meant allowing them to be online with the rest of the world.

In terms of your career, did your Oscar change things for you in a major way? I know you’re particular about what you work on.

You can be very picky and still end up in things that aren’t great. There’s no formula. I would like to rethink my strategy of being so picky. I don’t put being successful or being in a great movie ahead of everything else in my life. This summer, I wanted to spend the summer with my 15 year old. I didn’t want to be away all summer, no matter how good a project it was. It’s been tough. I’ve had to let go of a lot of professional experiences that I really wanted. I wanted to be at home more. Winning the Oscar didn’t change anything. It’s not me being regretful.

Do your kids care that you’re an actor? Have they seen your movies?

They have very little interest in watching the movies I do. They care about when I talk to them about movies. That way they can understand that I actually do something. Some parents work in banks or in schools. I act. It’s a little harder for younger kids to grasp. I ask for their advice all the time on what projects to do. When the movies come out, they’re not that interested. They don’t go to the movie theater that much. They like plays. I took my youngest kid, at 11 and two of their friends, to the sound stage when I was shooting this movie. They lasted about four minutes. They went to the hallway and played tag.

Let’s talk about the new movie, Light of My Life. The opening scene with Anna Pniowsky, who plays your daughter, is so intimate, so sweet, especially when you’re telling her the bedtime story you made up on the fly.

It was pretty easy and relaxed. For one thing, Anna is just naturally a great actress. She’s relaxed on camera. She has a lot of emotional intelligence and depth that is apparent. But also, like with any scene, the scene begins the first minute you meet them. Anna and I — I love her to death. We got along so well. She’s such a sweet kid. But the time we got into shooting that scene, she was in a groove.

This movie is about an apocalyptic future, but it’s mostly about being a dad. Could you have written it before you had kids?

I wouldn’t have written the role if I wasn’t a dad in real life. It’s about being a parent to me. All the science fiction stuff, the action, that was secondary. My experience with being a parent… that’s what it’s all about. The dynamic with me and Anna is stuff I draw on from being a dad.

How did your kids influence the development of the film?

My oldest son came to a reading of a scene and he gave me two pages of notes. They were the best notes that I got from anyone. I’ll save them forever. At the end of every movie, I make a t-shirt for everyone on the crew. On the back of the shirt, I put all his notes. Some of it was from his point of view. Some of it was objective stuff about storytelling. There’s too many moments where I’m like this or like that. They were sophisticated suggestions.

So you’re basically saying, you benefitted from child labor.

Yes, for sure. I’ll put something extra in his allowance.

On a not wholly unrelated note, I’m curious how you, as a celebrity father and well-known guy, work to ensure that your children don’t become entitled. I think it’s something a lot of parents worry about. I know I do.

Oh man. Just the fact you care is 80 percent of it. But I have to give credit to their mom. Their mom has done the best job and has an innate understanding of how to raise good kids.

I’ve been in places where there is extreme poverty. Seeing those kids can really give you a great perspective on parenting — suddenly their finicky eating doesn’t seem like such a giant problem. Our culture of fear and hyper-vigilance and media saturation can be an obstacle to giving them roots and letting them go a little bit. You have to trust that they’ll be ok.

I think that’s dead on. I also think it’s hard not to overthink and under-do.

The thing that affects them more than anything is how you live. If you’re on your phone 24 hours a day, they will be too. If you’re an entitled person, they’re more likely to be that way.

And you can’t indulge their every demand or whim, which is pretty damn hard.

My son said he should start thinking about getting a car. I told him to start thinking about getting a job. I’m not the parent that will buy them a car. They will have to earn it like I did. They give me that look like, ‘Give us a break!’ and I wonder if I am being too hard.

I do want them to hang out with me when they’re older and when they have kids.

What do you do that totally, utterly humiliates your kids? Every parent has at least one of those behaviors.

I’m overwhelmed thinking about all the embarrassing things I do. The things that make me suddenly cringe are all the dumb things I’ve said and done as a parent.

Here’s a good one: My son had a birthday party. There are these kids over here. It’s the best party I’ve had in my house in ten years. I found out that 15 year olds are really fun and I wanted to hang out. I said, ‘Let’s play some ping pong’ and I got the look. My son just looked at me like I was the least cool person he’d ever seen. He wanted me to give them space. I was trying to fit in.

Living My Life on Red Alert (Jesse McCree)

A/N: I’m pretty positive this is my longest story to date so that’s impressive? Also literally the only reason I wrote this is because I decided to osmosisly learn everything I needed to know about the universe of Overwatch without playing the game so apologies for inaccuracies in advance. Now, on with the show!

The bell above the door rang and Hale used that as good of a sign as any to get up and get to work. She had technically opened up about half hour ago, but this didn’t stop her from going really underway. She rolled off her cot she kept in the space above the diner. After landing on the ground, she dusted herself off and cleaned herself up. She tied her hair quickly into a sloppy bun and wandered down the stairs. When she arrived in the kitchen, she poked her head out of the window and found her usual sitting in his spot at the counter and was looking down at his hand, allowing his hat to cover his face. Hale smiled to herself as she pulled out the bag of coffee beans, they both preferred.

“Mornin’,” He said as he looked up. Hale came out of the kitchen and smirked. She was fond of the guy that seemed to appear every morning. He had a cybernetic right hand and some sort of scarf around his neck? She couldn’t tell, and he had some sort of accent she had only started working through.

“Morning Stranger,” she replied. She had taken to calling him Stranger both because of an old, old western movie her dad once showed her, and because they hadn’t traded names. What could she say, they got distracted between not talking about what he did for a living, not talking about what Hale did before working at a diner, and most certainly not talking about the robot Hale had stashed in the back room. Hell, they didn’t really know each other outside of extremely frivolous things. Like she knew that he had a preference toward Reese’s Peanut Butter cups (and with this discovery they had made an agreement that he could have all of hers for the rest of her life), he had liked sweet pea flowers, and took his coffee black.  Besides, this routine had been going on for a couple of months it was far too late now. They were like, Gatsby and Nick. The nickname had stuck, and it was far too late to ask for his name. “The usual?” She asked.

“Of course,” He said with an easy smile. Hale started pouring the beans into the grinder and started grinding. Sure, she could’ve bought an automated, but there was something satisfying about grinding them herself. Hale was cranking and leaning against the wall. She took in her Stranger a bit more. He hadn’t shed his hat yet and had stopped lighting his cigar in the diner after the second week when Hale tore into him for it.

“Darlin, I think you’ve ground those poor beans enough.” He said. Hale snapped out of her stupor and looked down, partially to hide the blush that came from his affectionate name (a week seven development, both the pet names and her sudden affection for the cowboy) and partially to see the grounds, sure enough they were ground.

“Right, thanks.” She said. She turned on the coffee pot and set up the grounds. She adjusted her scrunchie out of habit as the coffee pot started to whir. She then was quick to pull out their respective mugs. She then disappeared into the back and started working on their pancakes, taking the batter she put in the fridge last night and lit the stove top up. “How many this morning Stranger?”

“Four should do,” he said. She nodded and started portioning them out. In doing so, she was focused on the batter and made them with care. Soon enough, 8 pancakes were made, and Hale put the pancakes on the plate. She grabbed a canister of maple syrup for Stranger. She set the plate down and passed him a fork. She then grabbed a stool and sat on a diagonal from him. This is how it was every morning since he had started coming in.

“Got any plans?” She asked. “Or at least, ones you can tell me about?” She added. Stranger chuckled and took his hat off as he started pouring syrup on his pancakes.

“Nah, could spend the day here.” He said. Hale chuckled and blushed but hid it by going under the counter and grabbing the powdered sugar. She dusted her stack and then placed it on the counter.

“You’d get called away and you know it.” She remarked. Stranger laughed and took a bite of pancake.

“You might be right about that darlin’.”

“'Course I am,” Hale said through the last bit of pancake in her mouth, “happens every time you say you’re gonna spend all day here. Maybe you should just stop saying it, so the universe doesn’t know.”

“Might have to do that, tomorrow.”

“Well see, now you can’t the universe knows.” Another laugh and Hale couldn’t help but smirk in triumph. They ate their pancakes and sipped on coffee when the machine finally stopped whirring.

“Remind me one of these days to buy you a new coffee pot, that thing looks like it’s older than both of us.” Stranger remarked as Hale poured his coffee.

“If it’s broke, don’t fix it.”

“Darlin’ I’m pretty positive it’s passed the broken point.”

“Leave my coffee pot alone, it has feelings and it will break when it’s least convenient now because you’ve insulted it.”

“I’m sorry,” Stranger said with a joking tone and a sly smirk. Hale rolled her eyes as she poured her coffee and then drowned it in flavored creamer, she had for just herself. Hey, just because she worked at an old-fashioned diner, didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge in the finer things in life. Like flavored coffee creamer. Besides, Death Wish needed it. Once they had finished their breakfasts, Hale was quick to clear the dishes, keeping the mugs, and then came back to her seat.

“Your coffee’s improved since I started coming here, what changed?” He asked. Hale flushed unexpectedly, how to tell him that she had started serving him coffee from her stash at around week 3?

“That’s because you’re drinking my preferred bean. Not the diner’s.” She settled on.

“You’re kiddin’,” he said with a look that Hale couldn’t pin, admiration? No that wasn’t it, had to be something else.

“I’m not,” she said with a nervous chuckle. She pulled the bag that she hid in the kitchen out via leaning in the window and showed it to him. “Death Wish was for a period of time the strongest coffee. I still like it; doesn’t have the aftertaste I find a lot of coffees do.” Hale passed the bag to him and she watched as he read it over.

“I’m touched darlin’, though now I feel like I should be payin’ double.” He said.

“Don’t worry about it, keeping me company first thing in the morning is enough payment,” Hale said as she took the bag back from him, ignoring the cold from his cybernetic arm, and she stashed it back. As she straightened back up and retook her seat, she noticed he was looking at her different.

“What?” She asked with a light, slightly self-conscious chuckle as she started adjusting her bun.

“Nothin’, just… what do you want to do?” He asked. Three warning bells went off in her head. But because she had an undeniable urge (read: human biology reminding her she was a warm-blooded female) to ignore all of them.

“Wanted to do a lot, settled on stability over glory. Like that old movie speech, “I could’ve been a contender,”” she said finishing it with her worst Marlon Brando impression. Stranger chuckled.

“And ya didn’t because?” He asked. Hale shrugged and rolled her ring on her pinky finger.

“Life came up, robots happened.” She said. At the mention of robots, there was beeping from Strangers side of the counter. Hale laughed. “What did I say,” Stranger laughed and rolled his eyes as he looked to see what beeped.

“Duty calls, lovely as always darlin’,” he said.

“Thanks, I’ll be here so long as patronage is continued.” She replied. He put his hat back on and stood up.

“See ya around,”

“Adios Stranger,” and with that she watched as he walked out the door and away. Hale was quick to clean up their coffee mugs and keep herself busy, seeing as no one was likely to come in any time soon.

That was until the power went out.

Hale immediately went into survival mode. She grabbed her bracelet attachments and scrambled to put them on as she dove into a broom closet. She shut the door and was greeted with a large blue robot. She smiled and then realized what she was dealing with.

“RIOT, Grace Kelly,” she whispered. The robot whirred to life. “Covert mode!” she then quickly hissed. The robot then showed a screen on its stomach with its response

“HELLO MISS EMILIA HALE, HOW MAY I ASSIST YOU?”

“Program new command voice, Stranger.” She whispered.

“READY TO RECEIVE.” She pulled out her phone and played a small recording she had taken during week eight when she was certain that this friendship was a friendship.

“What do you mean you’ve never had proper Tex-Mex.” the recording said. RIOT was silent for a minute

“STRANGER, PROGRAMED.”

“Change code word, new code: James Dean.” She said.

“NEW CODE, PROGRAMED.” The door on the outside opened and she heard the clicking of blasters.

“Shut down.” She hissed. RIOT did as he was told and shut down. Hale then slipped out of the closet and tapped her bracelets together. The electric charge hovered around the bands and up the chain to her middle finger. She fished out a frying pan without making noise.

“Boss!” She’s in here!” Dammit! They had night vision.

“Time to light to this party up!” She yelled. She swung her frying pan and landed a hit, she then punched him and lit him up light a Christmas tree with electric power. That lit the kitchen enough that she could see that there were three more men in the main part of the diner. She jacked the gas up on the stove top and poured oil on it. She then quickly grabbed the lighter that muscle memory told her was next to the stove and lit the stove top. Now there was light. She ran for the main operatives in the diner space. She jumped over the counter and landed on one of them. She dove for the second, punching him with the other charge she had stored. That was two down, dammit where did the third one go.

“Not so fast,” A mechanical deep voice growled out as he grabbed her middle.

“Let go of me! You mother fucker let go of me!” She squirmed and kicked and didn’t make holding her easy. She just needed to stay alive long enough to get the secondary charge going.

“Boss!”

“Let’s go!”

“There’s something you should see!”

“We’ve got the girl let’s go!”

“Alright,” the hench said.

“Let go of me!” Hale screamed again.

“Not gonna happen,” the man holding her said. Hale could feel something strange happening and she thought of the one protocol that didn’t require rebooting.

“RIOT! PROTOCOL ONE!” She yelled one more time before she went dark.

*~*

When she came to, she was in a cage that reminded her of yet another old movie. Though this time the bars weren’t conveniently spaced to be able to show the eyes. She paced around in it like an animal. They had left her bracelets on, dumb of them good for her, and there was a camera at the far end of the room.

“CCTV or live broadcast?” She muttered.

“Aren’t you clever one, Emilia Grace Hale.” The mechanical voice said. Hale whipped around trying to find the speaker.

“Are you gonna stop being a coward and tell me why I’m in a cage, or are you just gonna sit in your control room?” She growled. She didn’t like being caged, and she liked people other than family using her full name even less.

“It won’t matter. You’ll be dead.”

“Wanna bet?” She asked.

“Look into the camera.” He said. At this, Hale held up six fingers and tapped her thighs

“Tell your buddies hi.”

“Hey Stranger,” she said with the same ease she told him every morning. “The word’s James Dean. You’ll figure it out.” She said. She nudged the bar and got jolted with more electricity than she was expecting and went down

*~*

“Miss, I hardly think that this is a good position to be in.” Were the first words she heard when she came to. She lit up with a grin and struggled to her feet.

“RIOT! He found you, thank fuck.” She said. RIOT nodded.

“Stranger? Yes, he did.”

“Debrief me when I’m out, I’m assuming you didn’t come alone.” She said. RIOT shot a hole in the cage that Hale quickly crawled out of.

“I am not alone, I am with a collection of former “Overwatch” agents.” RIOT stated. Hale furrowed her brow. Stranger was Overwatch? That was an unexpected development.

“The badies?”

“Too many to calculate. You will have to settle on just escaping.”

“I can work with that, got my gear?” She asked. RIOT opened a compartment in his stomach that revealed a navy-blue coat with gold and black details, a shoulder strap with her blaster, her waist belt with here electroshock orbs, and a comms unit direct to RIOT. She slid everything on and squared shoulders.

“RIOT,”

“Centaur mode, activated.” RIOT stated as he morphed to being quadrupedal. Hale was quick to jump on and they rode up the stairs and into the main battle fray. Hale was quick to unholster her blaster and start shooting. Stranger looked up and saw RIOT and then Hale on his back with a blaster he didn’t even know she had. Granted, he didn’t even know she had a robot until about an hour ago.

“RIOT,”

“Hoverboard activated.” RIOT shifted again and was firmly attached to Hale’s feet. With the aid of the comms unit, the duo synched and dove into the main battle. She shot her way through, finding herself next to her cowboy regular who was shooting with the same amount of ease as she was, if not more.

“Need a lift Stranger?” She asked.

“You don’t look like hell darlin’,”

“Feared I would?” She said with a smirk. Battle situations tended to make her more confident than she really had right to be. Stranger chuckled. “Get on, she said offering her hand. He accepted it and got on. She pulled RIOT up and they went shooting up. They were both shooting and came to a window.

“I’ve got it!” Hale exclaimed. She grabbed an electroshock orb off her belt and set it to ‘glass break’ and chucked it at the window. The window promptly shattered, and the duo and RIOT were through.

“Where’s the rendezvous?” She asked.

“The truck!” Hale dove for the truck and landed.

“RIOT!” Mid-drop, RIOT changed back to centaur form and ran for the bus. RIOT bucked and threw the both of them into the truck. RIOT changed from again and joined them in the truck.  He became a little orb and rolled over to Hale. “Deactivate.” she said. With a happy whirr, RIOT complied. Hale looked across at the man she typically didn’t see outside of the diner.

“You can just, drop me back at the diner. If it’s not burned down.” She said, nearly forgetting about the fire she lit before she got nabbed

“Nice little robot you’ve got there,” He said with a chuckle.

“Thanks, RIOT’s been in my family for years.” She said. The duo fell into silence until they pulled up to the diner. Where it was surprisingly not burned down. “Good job RIOT,” she muttered to the orb. It had followed Protocol One: Damage Control. She tapped RIOT once he rolled out of the truck and watched him shift to a GNK droid, though much larger than one would be traditionally. Hale jumped off the truck and watched as he jumped off as well.

“Guess this is goodbye,” He said with an uneasy look in his eye.

“What are you talking about, the diner’s still here.” She said.

“You don’t get it,”

“Get what?”

“I’m the reason Reaper came after ya, I’m… darlin’ I’m not letting that happen to ya again.” He said. Hale laughed and for once in their several month-long friendship, initiated contact (He usually had to do it, and it didn’t start until at least week six). She held his face and brought it to look down at him.

“I have a robot. And blasters. And a past I don’t talk about. Don’t take this burden all on you. I’m sure he dug up something on me while I was out and found out who I was.” She said. She gave him a soft smile. “Besides, I can’t have you disappearing without me knowing your name Stranger, I might have to get it out of RIOT.” She added. He chuckled and kissed her forehead, which proceeded to light her up like a Christmas tree. It was tender and he was so much warmer than she expected.

“McCree. Jesse McCree.” He said. Another soft smile from Hale as she rolled it around in her head.

“Jesse McCree,” she let it roll off her tongue, “suits you Stranger.” He chuckled at her still calling him Stranger.

“RIOT managed to not let your name slip.” Good robot she thought to herself.

“Emilia Hale. Call me Hale. Or Milia if you must.” She responded. Hale watched as McCree’s face seemed to express the same process of rolling the name around in his mind.

“Emilia Hale, I like it.” He said. The duo stood there in an embrace they hadn’t expected. Hale was still holding onto McCree’s face, lightly letting her fingers play with the short hairs, and McCree had looped his arms around her waist, his cybernetic arm resting against her back. There was something about a traumatic experience that led to the release of weeks of pent up emotions that had been festering since week seven for Hale and even earlier for McCree. Hale, in a stunning turn of events, kissed him first. Lightly, as a parting gift, a way of saying goodbye. But McCree quickly recaptured her lips. Passionate, like he was quickly taking back what he had said about saying goodbye. When oxygen became necessary, he looked down at her.

“It won’t be easy.”

“The best things in life never are. Besides, I can get used to living my life on “red alert.” Might fulfil that “could’ve been a contender” thing.” Hale said. McCree chuckled and pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. Hale wiggled her head to look up at him. “I’m keeping the diner though.”

“RIOT will have to stay out of storage.” McCree said.

“Done, now just kiss me Stranger.” She said with a smirk.

And he did.

Your Thoughts for OW’s Lore At Blizzcon

**Edit - would help to tag you hurr durr @freckledmccree

I like how you will indulge in detailed speculation and interpretation of OW lore and don’t center all ideas around one specific (noncanon) idea but will admit occasional personal bias. I also really appreciate that you steer relatively clear from fanon and when people respond to your writings you don’t have an attitude or seemingly disregard them. Sooo, that’s why I wrote this disgustingly long thing even tho I’m paranoid about being annoying.

 (Apology beforehand if you have answered any of these before, I have not properly stalked your blog yet. Also, excuse my rambling I did my best to be coherent. Lastly, I only have one friend who is kinda into OW and I feel bad to bother them 24/7 so I talk a lot in this.)

McCree Speculation

The following assumes that the new cinematic will be McCree’s.

If there is another known character in the short along with McCree, excluding flashbacks, who do you think it would be? 

I have 3-4 ideas even though I would not say they are likely. And with any of these I don't imagine a role any larger than Brig's in Honor and Glory or even Zarya in Infiltration.

A.) Genji. I don't think it's likely but I wouldn't be surprised. It also might be risky on Blizzard's part because many are salty about Genji's abundance of lore compared to others. (Which is dumb and I would gladly rant on it but it's not the point) Reasons:

Notable increase of McCree's interactions w/him.

McCree might've left OW in a less professional fashion than others. Which would mean he may not have anything to be alerted by for the recall. Especially since he went underground for a while.  Winston’s contact info? Long since changed.

From how I interpret “Dragons” it seems that Genji has received the call as well as offered Hanzo a choice to go w/him “The world is changing once again, Hanzo. And it's time to pick a side.” So why not others?

Genji has also been canonically in touch w/at least one other ex OW member. So why not try to get in touch with another member that we know he directly worked with?

My logic - Why would their interactions matter?

McCree's asking about how Genji dealt with the loss of his body emotionally/physically as well as Genji's response leaves room for the implication that Genji knows how he lost his arm.

Why would Genji go in person?

Well, I mean you probably don't wanna broadcast that your getting the highly illegal band back together. In which said band also is also hated by the UN and every other terrorist organization on the planet.

How will Genji know how to find him?

Cause he's a ninja, duh. But seriously McCree most likely said something before he quit OW and if not Genji would just have to look at the news and he'd be there.

B.) Sombra. If anything I wouldn't be surprised by a small reference to her rather than actually seeing her.

Reflections comic (duh)

My logic - I expect Sombra to get involved with a little bit of everything. She likes making people question their beliefs on who is “right” or “wrong”. 

She would most likely know about the recall so if she wants to manipulate that at all she could be the one to tell McCree about it. Idk, she’s a wildcard with anything.

C.) Fio. The Blackwatch Pilot in Retribution. (I used “known” characters loosely) I'm not sure on my certainty with her, tbh. But I do find it rather intriguing. (I said no flashbacks but maybe with this one)

Fio's only lines that are not directly related towards the mission are all directed towards McCree.

The tone of them is clearly on the teasing/banter side of things.

My logic - Why have this side character show any interest in conversation outside of the task at hand? 

If she was just being used for the game mode and as lore filler it would make more sense to have only lines relating to the mission. Or have generalized ones for the team. But she has multiple focusing on the one and only Jesse McCree.

Reasons for that could be that they ran out of time to add other interactions. Which would explain why McCree does not acknowledge her comments. (The only time he was quiet during the mission is when she talked to him, rip you got denied girl) Or it could be that they knew each other previously or trained together in some of the early days of Blackwatch.

D.) Mercy. This one I would be surprised to see but it would have some logic to it.

Losing his arm, depending on the how/when/where.

She is not one of the characters who speak to him about his arm.

My logic - Who fixed his arm up for him?

Depending on how/when/where he lost his arm he may have shyed away from public hospitals. Especially with Talon  seemingly controlling so much of the press. So he may of wanted someone he personally trusted as well as doctor patient confidentiality.

Why does Mercy of all people not ask about the prosthetic? 

Out of the people who question McCree Mercy isn't one of them. Which may seem odd since she has known him for so long and her being a doctor. However, she does call out his smoking. So this proves she does pay attention to his over all health. (Which I am aware is a much older interaction) But it would have been a good opportunity to have her inquire about the arm there if she doesn't already know.

 Do you think McCree will directly receive the recall or from some other source?

What do you think of the fact that McCree lost his left arm specifically?

If the loss of McCree's arm is related to the Deadlock Gang do you speculate that it was intentionally the arm that had his tattoo on it? With how far McCree got in his career/life with OW and potentially spilling info on the gang when caught some people might want him to hurt. Not just die. To me forcefully sawing off the branding of the gang he betrayed would fit the bill. As well as be a good warning for others. (Not that blizzard would show that)

How do you imagine the camaraderie within Deadlock to be?

I ask this since in “Hero” right before the Los Muertos member throws the grenade it shows him actively choosing to help the other gang members (very broken gang members thanks to Soldier 76)onto the back of the truck instead of getting out ASAP. 

I just found that to be notable in how their social structure works. It makes more sense for Los Muertos specifically since they originally wanted to stand up against the politics and speak out for the people still suffering from the Omnic Crisis. They are not formed from the shady work they do.

Deadlock, however, doesn't seem to represent a core ideology. So I wouldn't be surprised if when OW caught some of them the others ran. Especially since McCree would probably still be pretty low in the pecking order at the time.

Can you imagine a shoot out in the warehouse tho, that'd be so risky people could be anywhere and there's no good line of sight except for where the truck drives through. Sneaky teen McCree climbing around and ish

Do you expect/hope for the origin on any mementos to be revealed?

My only idea is his iconic BAMF belt buckle. We know he's had it for quite a while since he wears it here: 

Just  thought Blizzard could do something cute with it if they wanted.

Do you have any thoughts on the Deadlock Torb skin?

Idk, this is kinda silly but people have talked about it. People do have a good point that it’s odd for him to have that skin.

Lastly, do you have any little head canons that you hope to see confirmed? 

Nothing serious just simple personal hopes from the cinematic which may or may not set you up for disappointment cause fun

(When I first started writing this I had two questions, rip. I'm pretty sure I forgot one of the original questions too)

Other Blizzcon Lore Speculation

Do you have any ideas for the new hero?

Personally, I do not have any super strong theories but I do have a few loose ideas. Tbh, I can’t especially convince myself of any these besides the likelihood of said character being a tank.

A.) Talon Tank

Reasons:

Moira’s origin story contains two possible indicators towards this, or another Talon member in general.

We need another main tank added to the roster (opinion)

Talon has a character for every role except tanking (weak)

Popular request (weak)

My Logic lacking- Majority of this idea comes from Moira’s origin story which shows this relatively well known photo with a person or armored suit of some kind on the back panel here: 

I used to think of this to be much harder evidence than I do now since it looks like it could be a uncolored design used for the Talon members in Retribution. However, there’s another detail in the photo (including the version with the different back panel that I believe could point to another member. Each character, excluding Moira, has their line of sight going to the same spot. My doodles for emphasis:

(Reaper is kind of hard to tell but that’s basically his entire role in Talon at this point, lol) Who are they all looking at? This could just be an artistic choice for viewer immersion but it also could be rather purposeful. To me, it looks like a proposition to someone, with the panel in the back for emphasis. If not a proposition, perhaps the workings of a plan or setting clear expectations for said person. (either version works for this context) This someone must be rather important to have them all there. Moira is looking back at the rest of them, seemingly reading their expressions/body language. She seems pleased but then again she’s a tad bit odd.

B.) Mystery Characters

Idek, I added this cause I could. This is not likely at all but will remain on the list of possibilities as long as Overwatch shall live.

Have been shown or spoken of very early on but nothing since

Recently mentioned names but no physical hints of who/what they are

Tying up some long held questions (weak)

Popular demand (weak)

My logic (or lack there of) - I have exactly one tiny speck of logic for this. Mystery characters shown and/or spoken of before the cancellation of the First Strike comic are still occasionally brought up to the OW team. Yet they have conveniently  not retconned them.  Why not say they are no longer a significant part of the story when there has been no updates on them for 2ish years? Maybe they are just keeping the possibility open. Liao and the two from Ana’s origin story are the best (only?) examples:

There is also more recently mentioned characters such as Ray and Fio. Ray was discussed mostly early this year and all we know about them is the following:

We do not know anything else about who or what Ray is. I do not 100% believe Ray is an actual person but you never know. The comment on the beard and his response to has Ray’s combat experience could be some teasing on Michael Chu’s part. To me, Ray is either a person, an omnic, or some sort of computer system used in the Orca.  I should note that another AI other than Athena would seem odd especially with the whole reason OW formed and all.

(Fio I have already discussed but at least we know she’s an actual person, hopefully...OW is weird man)

What do you think of the common theory of Sanjay Korpal being the next hero?

Personally, I think he lacks the look of an OW character. He looks rather plain to me, almost like a background character used to fill up comic space. I do believe his role is going to grow substantially in the lore but as an in game hero? Eh, I don’t know. Another thing I struggle with imagining is him being a tank like a lot of people presume. It would be interesting with what Vishkar can do with hard light technology to have a tank based on that, I will admit. Just don’t see him filling the role of that, he doesn’t strike me as someone who wants to get his hands dirty. I will admit, that this is very strictly my opinion and read of his character and by no means is anything to go off of speculation wise.

 But, if I’m wrong, then next years first cinematic should definitely be a Symmetra/Lucio one and it should definitely have Symmetra kiCKING HIS ASS FOR MANIPUlATING HER foR GOD KNOWs hOW LONG..ahem.

Do you think a comic will be released soon?

They usually put out comics on Wednesdays but they have been odd this year when it comes to them. Idk, if they’ll announce one at Blizzcon. I kinda doubt it. Personally, I’m hoping for a really kick ass Christmas comic since in Reflections it ended with Winston saying he has a good feeling for “next year” (OW’s next year cause timeline) plus last year’s was cute but underwhelming.

I think that’s all I have to ask/discuss for now? I had ideas keep popping up but I kept going back over what I already wrote and my attention span is all or nothing soooo there goes my ideas into the void.

***Random ass question cause you like RDR2. I keep getting a gamestop ad for it and it’s bugging me cause I can’t make out what this guy is saying. It sounds like “I don’t want to kill all you smooth dutch. Just you.” Idk where the exact video is rip, but I feel like I’m really mishearing the guy, lmao.

Non Sequiturs and Stupid Fangirl Squealing

(possibly completely incoherent warning idk how to wenglish when im excited pls ignore mw)

I saw a comic aart thing once and it had young jesse punch Jack in the face and Reyes thought it was the funniest thing and I feel like that’s in character

What if Reyes had a few choices on who to recruit and he was like I want the cowboy chose the instead of the trained older guys. Ana would be like Reyes no and Reyes would be like I want the damn cowboy

I never realised how much I appreciate McCree’s character until the hints of him having a short started popping up. Before I liked him sure, I just never thought too deep into how they could expand on his character. Originally I was just like, “so Reyes picked this kid out of a big ass gang and had him trained among the world’s most renowned soldiers and he still is perfectly content being a cowboy?” Good for you my dudely man, good for you,

wanna see skinny (lean)  young McCree but everyone will want the skin but it wont look the same with his in game model so blegh

I agree with you on how you think reyes recruited him, so many people think he just yeeted jesse at a bunch of angry omnics and was like lol have a cowboy

Imagine McCree being so confused by the weird ass original OW team like y there captain america, my new found father, a dwarf (swede) and an 8 ft german happy meal

He’d be so intimidated by Ana I bench lift Reinhardt for fun Amari being his coach like asdfsdf

But I think with her training it’d be the first real time he let his guard down without him realizing it because he was so in awe of her sniping skills and being able to get taught by her, bonding over shooting people half a continent away yAY

What if we see lil pharah??? I’ll die???

Okay I’ve said this to another  blog but even tho McCree is not my “type” I’m still gonna need to strap my ovaries in place for this short, cause booooooooyyyyyyyyy (I dont even have a type but I guess I mean a lil scruffy?)

Turning Pages

Last night (or more accurately, at 1 in the morning) I finished reading Normal People by Sally Rooney in just about 22 hours, between my daily routine tasks. This isn’t groundbreaking or whatever, but a few months ago I noticed that I wasn’t reading or writing for leisure as much as I used to when I was younger, so it was still kind of a feat. Sure, I read my required readings and wrote when needed in college, but if you grew up finding solace in words than virtual reality, you’d know that doesn’t quite cut it.

I always guessed it was because I was so busy and that my course required so much writing that I needed escape in different ways: series, movies, music, or more commonly, the mind-numbing, anxiety-inducing act of scrolling through my social media feed. My attention span is that of a gold fish, I feel like every ten minutes I look down on my phone or my mind drifts off somewhere. Now with the overwhelming amount of time stretched for all of us with no certain end, as a coping mechanism, I went back to my old habits, rediscovered new ones, and let me tell you, it feels...good. 

It truly does. For now, at least. I’m slowly going through my reading list and writing a practice novel, plotting out the chapters of Don’t Write Me Off. I’ve also watched old Hollywood films, mainly Audrey Hepburn ones, of course (I think Sabrina might be my favorite, but the grandiose of Funny Face is just exquisite, also that plot twist in Charade), but also classics like Casablanca (1942) which made me want to look pretty in a blue dress and the more modern Celeste & Jesse Forever (2012) which is just me being a complete fan of Andy Samberg’s wit. I’ve seen Phantom of the Opera and The Last Five Years, both musicals with really good soundtracks that made me wish I was a good enough singer to star in musicals. I cried to the last season (ever!) of Modern Family and thoroughly enjoyed Brooklyn Nine-Nine’s Season 7. I’m cycling to episodes of The Office, which I’m currently on Season 6. I discovered that I really like Sims 4, even when it’s not like me to play computer or video games. I workout quite regularly too, grateful for my go-to trainers on Youtube: Yoga with Adriene and the og, Cassey Ho of Blogilates. I’ve kept in touch with some friends, kept my distance from some. I’ve cooked dishes I haven’t attempted before. I’ve helped people out secretly through donations or food. 

Overall, I think I’m coping pretty well. It isn’t a linear progress though, there are days when I just can’t. I recognize that not everyone has the same experience or energy to get things done, and the turmoil we are all going through takes a toll on most of us mentally and financially. People are suffering every day and those rising numbers are more than just statistics. In another side of this story, I call for #MassTestingNow and concrete plans and updates from the government.  

 Admittedly, I’ve felt like a fraud for months because I have become a writer who only half-reads and never finishes novels anymore or finishes only one in a few months when I used to have the energy for one book a day. There were attempts, of course, to rebuild that in the past year. I started a Goodreads account, got recommendations from friends, bought books from small bookstores, and even started writing a few chapters for #NaNoWriMo2019 that I only continued now. There was always something on that felt easier to be a part of, like watching Gilmore Girls after school. I wasn’t who I was five years ago, a really eager writer who saved her work in a flash drive and worked on her stories everywhere. I guess I’m also not preoccupied with romantic relationships anymore, ironically now that I’m definitely older and could probably handle one better, but being without makes me feel good, on most days. People always said that heartbreak is good writing fuel, and with none of that going on, I tend to circle back to old wounds or go down the rabbit hole of personal issues. Both options aren’t so good, but I’ve written in a journal whenever they felt overwhelming. I’m guessing it’s still me in here, but an older version that is honed by experiences and the uneasiness of navigating through my young adult years. I can’t expect to go back to who I was then, even when she had better habits and read more books. I could only move forward and rekindle my unending (albeit sometimes absent) spark with words.

Now this book I was reading last night, Rooney’s second novel that I’ve heard is also now a Hulu series I’m yet to watch (not the one on top, that open book my copy of Lakambini Sitoy’s Jungle Planet and Other Stories which I read last month, also good!) was somewhat a thrill I was missing out on. It was recommended by one of my friends, Denise Samson, who I admire taste-wise in her knowledge of books and music. I cried during the last few chapters because it felt raw to me, a real story despite being fictitious. Not spiced up by too-good-to-be-true plot devices, just two people, Marianne and Connell, who couldn’t stray too far from each other over the years. I savored the journeys they took to grow, had my own interpretation of why it was titled Normal People, and felt that I could relate to bits and pieces. This was the first time in a really long hiatus that a book has made me feel moved. It was a story I needed to carry with me for a bit before I move onto the next one, without wasting too much time. Suddenly, I remember why I had wanted to be a writer for most years of my life: for this feeling, the power of words to make the readers a part of the journey. I can only hope that I give the same feeling back to anyone who reads my works one day, provided that the apocalypse reschedules.

Now I feel motivated more than ever to be the writer I want to be, manifesting it, so to speak. My second year as a Malikhaing Pagsulat student ended rather unceremoniously, different from what I thought was going to happen. It was supposed to be sunflowers and a Sablay adorned over a dress I designed after conquering writing requirements and the occasional one-bottle trips with friends. Next school year, I have the option to study a different course, which was the initial plan, if I’m being honest. However, right now, I’m not so sure I want to take that path if I have the option to continue studying how to write in Filipino. I feel that I want to be a storyteller all my life. The circumstances are saddening but they also made me realize how much I’ve enjoyed the past two years in UP Diliman, the culture of it all. I’ve learned so much from my writing professors, idolize them more than I did then. I regret that I wasn’t able to send myself off into the new chapter in the full capacity I had hoped to. There were so many unfinished works in classes I enjoyed, friends I feel like I want to say goodbye to properly, and techniques that would have helped me in my journey with words. 

My parents have always seen me pursuing law after my undergraduate studies (and I think I do, too) but at the core, I really am just a girl who loves to write and share stories. Like, damn, maybe I want to be a writer all my life instead of chasing a profession that’s supposed to bring me honor and financial stability. That’s just wishful thinking, though. At this standpoint, I feel myself setting that aside for a destined future, but I’m also taking my time to indulge in reading good material and trying to write better. If there’s something I learned about myself, is that there were (and are going to be) times when I feel like I’m lost, but no matter how long it takes me, I always find my way back. At the moment, as I am writing this on my laptop on our dining table (instead of watching another black and white film) like I’ve been doing more often, I feel that I am where I need to be, so far. I can only hope that you are, too. We’ll be alright. 

-

Do you have any book recommendations? Please share!

Also: I update Don’t Write Me Off at least twice a week. If you need a light quarantine read, please consider my practice novel! 

Follow me on Spotify: mariellewashere 

Jesus Walks… in Adidas

Jesus Walks… in Adidas

Jesus is King has finally dropped. This is Kanye West’s first Christian rap-gospel album since turning into a born-again Christian in April after the hedonistic indulgence of Coachella.

The Lucifer, Mercy and New God Flow producer has given up secular music and has now turned his career toward the servitude of God.

However, his return from hospital and new found faith will flow nicely into his plans to expand his fashion, music & entertainment empire as well as possibly delivering him the top spot in the White House. This is a man not to be underestimated.

Saint Pablo

‘Ye recently turned around a personal debt of $53 million into a nearly $50m profit. Back in 2016, ‘Ye went out cap in hand to Mark Zuckerberg for $1bn for his ideas, but was promptly ignored. Zuckerberg was raised in a Jewish household, although his wife is a Buddhist and he hasn’t publicly stated his faith. But, this wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by ‘Ye and may have pushed Kanye toward his born-again Christian position.

Soon after, the “Can’t Tell Me Nothing” star seemingly finally started listening to his wife.

“My wife said, I can’t say no to nobody, and at this rate we gon’ both die broke,” West raps on Saint Pablo. “Got friends that ask me for money knowin’ I’m in debt, and like my wife said, I still didn’t say no.”

Stronger

Whilst facing the cold shoulder from Zuckerberg, Jack Dorsey – the Square & Paypal founder who was raised a Catholic, offered to invest in Kanye early on.

Jay-Z also kicked in a loan of $20m triggering tensions between the two ending in a public feud.

Here’s Jay-Z on “Kill Jay-Z”:

“You dropped outta school, you lost your principles / You gave him 20 million without thinkin’,” Jay-Z raps, seemingly confirming the rumor that he lent West money. “He gave you 20 minutes on stage, f–k was he thinkin’?”

Recently, Kanye has tried to dead the beef with the recent track “Brothers” with Charlie Wilson.

Power

‘Ye never got that billion from Zuckerberg, although they apparently became friends and even performed karaoke together, but it appears West has now healed his own financial woes: His apparel brand Yeezy is a billion-dollar empire, according to Forbes and over the past 12 months, Forbes estimates West has earned over $150 million before taxes. His wealth is due largely to Yeezy’s Adidas deal, a line that is expected to top $1.5 billion in sales in 2019.

The Jordan line does approximately $3 billion in annual sales, so the Yeezy line is catching up fast. If he can latch onto the Christian vote, sales could explode even more rapidly.

Touch the Sky

Christianity is the most adhered to religion in the United States, with 65% of polled American adults identifying themselves as Christian in 2019. This is down from 85% in 1990, 81.6% in 2001, and 12% lower than the 78% reported for 2012. About 62% of those polled claim to be members of a church congregation.

Kenneth Copeland is the number one pastor in the USA and his net worth is $300m. After the backlash for supporting Trump, the natural progression seems to be for Kanye to target the Trump supporters and Christians who make up the large majority of America with around another 20% of the population perhaps open to conversion back to Christianity. It is a huge target market… and that is just America.

Christianity is by far the world’s largest religion, with an estimated 2.2 billion adherents, nearly a third (31%) of all 6.9 billion people on Earth in 2010.

Jesus is King

The new sound track has been carefully crafted to be sung by large audiences to worship god. With tracks such as “Follow God” and “Use This Gospel”, Kanye is on a mission to convert. He has brought the Church to the streets and into the hills… No Church in the Wild.

His carefully chosen purple hair and purple cloths are to portray himself as an Emperor, clergy-like figure, if not Jesus himself, I don’t think it will be long before Kanye professes himself as a Prophet of some sort.

Kanye pronounced himself “I am a God” back on Yeezus.

I just talked to Jesus He said, “What up, Yeezus?” I said, “Shit—I’m chillin’ Tryna stack these millions” I know he the most high But I am a close high Mi casa, su casa That’s our cosa nostra I am a god I am a god I am a god

Rappers as Jesus

This isn’t new in rap. Check out the images below from Kanye, Nas, Tupac, DMX and The Game.

Jeru the Damaja, who follows the Nation of Islam, like Wu-Tang, Rakim & Brand Nubian, famously wrote a song “Can’t Stop the Prophet”.

Rappers have always seen themselves as street prophets, telling war stories, from Rakim, Nas & KRS-One right back to Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five in The Message.

Purple Robes

Throughout history, purple robes were worn by royalty and people of authority or high rank. Many believe this to be true because the rare occurrence of purple in nature made it one of the most expensive color dyes to create.

Purple and violet represent the future, the imagination and dreams, while spiritually calming the emotions. They inspire and enhance psychic ability and spiritual enlightenment, while, at the same time, keeping us grounded.

At the time of Jesus, the dye used for making the colour purple, extracted from shell-fish and was one of the most expensive dyes. The colour-fast (non-fading) dye was an item of luxury trade, prized by Romans, who used it to colour ceremonial robes, usually worn by Emperors. The very fact that purple was an expensive color made it affordable only to the royals. That Jesus was made to put it on before his crucifixion, implies that the Romans were sending a strong signal to the Jews against any coup.

A.D.I.D.A.S.

ADIDAS was founded by German, Adi Dassler (Adolf Dassler). In fact, one of the founders, his brother Rudolf Dassler later went on to found Puma and started a bitter rivalry between the brothers. There is a popular myth among fans (not true) that Adidas stands for All Day I Dream About Sports, whilst in 2003, Killer Mike dropped a hip hop track called A.D.I.D.A.S. (All Day I Dream About Sex).

Like many of their fellow citizens, the brothers joined the Nazi party after Adolph Hitler came to power in 1933. Their shoe business remained modest until 1936. In that year, Germany hosted the Olympics.

In an ironic twist, the two party members got legendary African-American runner Jesse Owens to wear their running shoes while competing. Owens went on to win four gold medals during the games. The exposure of their product gave Dassler Shoes a huge boost in sales. You can read more in Sportsweek History.

It does seem ironic, given Kanye’s sex addiction that he would align himself with this particular shoe and his plans are to get the shoes made in America and give “second chances” to inmates.

But, he is going to run into problems with the media as the average wage of a prison inmate ranged between $0.23 and $1.15 an hour  – According to the International Labor Organization, in 2000–2011 wages in American prisons 

In Texas, Georgia, and Arkansas, inmates aren’t paid at all for their labor.

The “New Slave” indeed. I initially thought another way to make money would be to make inexpensive Jesus style sandals and sure enough, I found that is exactly what ‘Ye is planning. They are called “slides” in America and Adidas will be making these from injection moulding and it hasn’t gone unnoticed from Twitter that they are basically prison shoes, but now they are being remarketed as a high fashion item for children of rich kids. That is marketing genius.

Why do the yeezy slides look like the slides worn in prison.. pic.twitter.com/LsR8dbFyqE

— Cyn ☕️ (@Kingxxcyn) October 17, 2019

ADIDAS YECHEIL

The first shoe in Ye’s collection is the Yecheil, which is a Hebrew masculine given name meaning “May God live” or “God shall live”. Several people in the Bible also have this name.

ADIDAS YEEZREEL

For the second shoe of ‘Ye’s collection, there is the“Yeezreel”. It has no exact translation but it seems he might’ve been inspired by the word “Jezreel” which was an ancient Israelite city and fortress originally within the boundaries of the Tribe of Issachar, and later within the northern Kingdom of Israel.

ADIDAS YESHAYA

The third shoe is called the “Yeshaya” which directly translates to “God Is Salvation”. The name Yeshaya (Yesha’yahu) translates from Hebrew to English as the name Isaiah, who was one of the four major prophets of the Old Testament, and the author of the Book of Isaiah. He was from Jerusalem and probably lived in the 8th century BC.

Many of these shoes use Adidas “Cloud” foam, so ‘Ye and his fans are figuratively walking on clouds.

Click the pic to get the best prices on Adidas below

Through the Wire – Prison Reform

Kim Kardashian announced her decision to study law back in April. Since then, she’s met with President Trump to discuss prison reform, teamed up with the 90 Days of Freedom campaign, and is producing a documentary on the subject.

CNN reported that Kim Kardashian West helped free 17 inmates in 90 days.

Kanye West has donated $1m to prison reform, but is now getting US prison workers to make his shoes at 25% of the cost of having his shoes made in China, unless somehow, he is quadrupling the prison wage.

There will be Church factions and sections of the media who will most likely attack Mr. West for essentially using slave labour in prisons to increase profit. Chinese factory workers are now getting paid more than ever: Average hourly wages hit $3.60 in 2017 compared to around $1 for an American prison worker.

Kanye West’s Interview with Zane Lowe

If you don’t want to watch the lengthy interview below, scroll down for a quick summary.

In the interview Kanye talks about the following:

How billboards are guilty of sex trafficking

How he became a born-again Christian in April after Coachella

Why he wants to create jobs and bring jobs back to the USA

How he experimented with Domes & living in them then “the man” tore them down as a metaphor for tearing down his ego

How his farm will be growing cotton & wheat

He will employ prisoners to make his shoes as a “second chance”

His respect for founders, especially Warren Buffett, Amancio Ortego (Zara), Elon Musk, James Turell (artist concerned with light & space) and Jack Dorsey (Paypal)

He calls himself a Christian innovator

How his daughter North drives his passion for church

How Sunday Service may become a church and how he may become a Pastor

He is asking people to fast & not have premarital sex

How he had a porn addiction due to seeing Playboy at 5 years old & his sex addiction

People should pray together, fast together, stay together to increase power

Getting stumped by Zane Lowes question on whether he had to work for his 4th house

How white owners controls hip hop

How God is using Kanye to show off

Compares himself to Nebuchadnezzar, the King of Babylon, diagnosed of Bipolar disorder. This was also the ship in the film The Matrix which “woke” people up

According to the Bible, Nebuchadnezzar II was king of the Neo-Babylonian Empire, who reigned c. 605 BC – 562 BC and conquered Judah and Jerusalem and sent the Jews into exile.

How he will become the President of the United States, perhaps as early as 2024

How Facebook & social media is a disease

How porn is ruining marriages and brainwashing children

How to keep the eternal, imaginative 3 year old at all costs

How he’s undeniably the greatest artist of all time, no question!

How wearing the red cap was a joke on all the liberals as well as Drake living four blocks down from him was also a joke from God.

I guess him wearing blue fur whilst talking and making a blue record is also a joke on the liberals

How he will now rewrite and censor all his old songs for performances

How some of the merchandise money will go to the church

How the Louis Vuitton boss reneging on a handshake to make him the LV don and his wife getting robbed helped put him in a mental hospital

Jokes about being the pastor at Drake’s wedding

How he objects to the censorship of speech of the left

Jesus is King is out now on Spotify, mp3, vinyl & CD

Jesus is Born, another new album, is arriving on Christmas Day this year.

Kanye West’s Journey

There is a bigger story here. How hip hop can be cathartic. Hip hop is bashed left, right and centre in the mainstream media daily, mainly times rightly so, for enforcing stereotypes. But, real hip hop can be a spiritual journey.

Some artists have found solace and teachings much earlier on in their lives such as Rakim, Wu-Tang Clan, KRS-One & Jeru the Damaja. Other artists take longer to mature. It seems to me to be better rapping about street crime then taking part in it. This is something most non-hip hop heads seem to not understand.  Hip hop is way out the streets, just like a sports contract.

Everyone has their own journey and Kanye’s has taken him into Christianity. If record sales pick up, it will turn into a bigger movement. Time will tell what happens if it “All Falls Down”,  streams sour and Adidas sales start to Fade. In such a scenario, it may be very hard for Kanye to stay on the straight and narrow, but I wish him luck. Time will tell.

I’m looking forward to see how he reacts surrounded with Angels in future fashion shows singing his new songs.

I’ll leave you with the last verse from Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five’s “The Message”, possibly still the greatest hip hop song ever written. The message is as relevant today as it was back in 1982.

A child is born, with no state of mind Blind to the ways of mankind God is smiling on you, but he’s frowning too Cause only God knows, what you go through You grow in the ghetto, living second rate And your eyes will sing a song of deep hate The place, that you play and where you stay Looks like one great big alley way You’ll admire all the number book takers Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money makers Driving big cars, spending twenties and tens And you wanna grow up to be just like them Smugglers, scramblers, burglars, gamblers Pickpockets, peddlers and even pan-handlers You say I’m cool, I’m no fool But then you wind up dropping out of high school Now you’re unemployed, all null ‘n void Walking ’round like you’re pretty boy floyd Turned stickup kid, look what you done did Got send up for a eight year bid Now your manhood is took and you’re a may tag Spend the next two years as an undercover fag Being used and abused and served like hell Till one day you was found hung dead in a cell It was plain to see that your life was lost You was cold and your body swung back and forth But now your eyes sing the sad sad song Of how you lived so fast and died so young So, don’t push me cause I’m close to the edge I’m trying not to lose my head It’s like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder How I keep from going under It’s like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder How I keep from going under

Watch Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five – The Message

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4x03

Too tired to gif anything lengthy (or work out how to do these ones nicely and in 1 part) but when Mary and Samuel go to the farm to investigate, they have this little exchange:

MARY And I'm here because?

SAMUEL Family business, Mary... family.

SAMUEL What? You'd rather be waving pom-poms at a bunch of dumb jocks?

(The giffed smile is after he says that last line)

Anyway it just makes me really sad that this is the offered glimpse of Mary's life specifically between her and Samuel and what we have to go off on how this works between the two of them aside from him laughing at John and calling him naive etc. This has John parenting Dean all over it, with the family business line as always harking back to the line indelibly connected to Dean's speech in 1x02 because of how many episode openings it was pasted over, and I feel like it's Dean especially, rather than Sam who DID openly want to rebel and live a normal life (and would relate a lot to this as well, of course) because it feels more like pre-knowing them stuff, the kind of thing that John telling Dean to take care of the car or he wouldn't have given it to him in 1x20 for example feels like. The snide comments that police how they should feel about it and how Mary responds by snarking at him about going to do the job and putting on a smile and going to flirt information out of a boy at the farm. We don't see comments like this really between John and Dean aside from the car one because in every respect in season 1 John has bought Dean's loyalty fully already and since the very start that has been obvious - if little tells in 1x01 didn't give it away, Dean's behaviour in 1x02 standing up for the family business to Sam did.

I also have spent some time somewhere or other paralleling Mary & John to Dean & Lisa (I think the first post in this post-season 12 watch actually, where I wrote like 100 miles about Mary...) in the sense that she clawed her way to suburbia and went into a sort of denial - visually represented in 12x22 if you want to imagine she was doing the same thing the entire time she was playing housewife for real (and because she never learned to cook I find it particularly telling and distressing that it reads to me like she was in denial/depression about it rather than throwing herself wholeheartedly into learning an entire new life and genuinely trying to fit in with housewife culture of doing all the cooking etc... She still sneaked out to hunt and I still kinda feel like that was lashing out or rebellion against her own life, dissatisfaction being caught between two worlds, even self-sabotage to make John wonder if she was cheating, or just to indulge her secret other life or... you know, SOMETHING reckless and stupid when she had a baby at home to care for... Mary is NOT a stable person and I love her because she's a hot mess :P). (The Dean & Lisa vs Mary & John parallel isn't perfect but I'm talking specifically about mindsets and the djinn dream comparison Dean had to being with Lisa, and the deep deep place Mary went to in her head that reeks to me of similar minds.)

To me overall the Dean and Mary comparison is much stronger to me so though this makes a lot of sense as a Sam parallel (or, well, when it's parents etc we just talk about inherited traits with a semi-mystical power to channel personality directly to us whether we knew our ancestors personally or not...) I do read this exact more strongly as the sort of control John exerted over Dean potentially, which SUCCESSFULLY worked to make him grow to adulthood disdaining normal life and feeling like they didn't fit in and were outsiders and freaks who were not a part of regular life. I think Mary is young and headstrong and still in that stage where like Sam she can rebel and choose another life but in this specific moment we're having demonstrated the hunting life vs normal life that in season 1 we saw better explained by Dean calling himself a freak (or in season 2 Jo calling herself a freak with a knife collection when she tried to go to college, while Sam had the knife collection but was HAPPILY fitting in and in denial, we know Mary DIDN'T fit in and DID sneak off to go hunting, like Jo did). Samuel emphasises the exact annoying Strong Female Character trait of "i'm not like the other girls" but he's forcing it on Mary, which makes her want to BE like the other girls, even if like Jo or Dean she would struggle to fit in and keep it far more than Sam did with Jess or Amelia, where he could cut it off completely. Mary KNOWS she isn't "like the other girls" because Samuel made her that way, and so she goes to do the job with a forced smile on her face and to spite Samuel.

I wonder how things would have gone with her and John if Dean had never shown up and Azazel had never caught wind of her, and she had been able to carve her own path with nothing more than Samuel's influence on her life. How much was she screwed up by being raised a hunter to make her act as she did and how much was the deal a part of it? Azazel promised her suburbia and peace, the same terms of what Dean got with Lisa, and he managed to stick to it until other things intervened, although as 12x10 suggests and like Dean investigating the possible hunt, immediately after being poisoned, in the abandoned hotel, neither of them would ignore when their help was needed even if they were supposedly civilian now. Sam manages to cut himself off completely and in 8x01 he says he looked in the newspapers and saw potential cases and knew it wasn't his problem because he wasn't capable of hunting right then/wanted and had honestly more than earned his peace (given the circumstances of Dean and Cas's disappearance, and, as Sam was doing, ignoring the issue of Kevin).

I'm not saying Sam is less heroic but I think this specific sort of "You can never be like everyone else so do the job" brainwashing from Samuel and presumably John given what we know of how he raised them (Sam himself complains about that a lot in 1x01 but from the safe place of having rejected it at that specific point, again, having completely cut himself off and thinking he'd made a choice for his entire adult life), creates the complex where they HAVE to save people, and Sam got himself out before it got all the way into him; I think Mary is shown here at the crux of it and ironically maybe if she hadn't made the deal, she would have got out but having MADE the deal even with Azazel's promise of her suburbia paradise and nothing Supernatural ever bothering her again (as long as she didn't bother him in the nursery >.>) had a tie to keep her in the life, even as an unresolved *itch* of having that hanging over WHY she got such a peace that never let her truly settle or cut herself off in the way Sam could.

... Also it's making me think of Dean in the high school episode coming up later in the season, deliberately acting out and self-sabotaging his own life there right when he seemed to be getting popular or cool, or getting anything NICE out of the experience, and the contrast they made with Sonny's where away from John's influence he was allowed to flourish and do things like join the wrestling team. (Sam played football and did extra curricular stuff like theatre, or, you know, his homework, and John and Dean both also complicate it by having varying reasons for trying to preserve some normality for Sam on top of being raised as a hunter - John because who knows what he learned about Sam early on in his investigation and Dean just because he wanted to protect Sam wholeheartedly.) If Samuel was poisoning Mary all this time to hate the idea of being a cheerleader, it sounds a lot to me like, since they have this apparently more stable life she probably went to one school all her life, and could have been offered cheerleader but she's been encouraged to keep away from socialising and doing fun things and Samuel doesn't support her doing anything that cuts into her hunting time and emotional investment. If she likes cheerleading she might start craving a normal life, you know? At least in this respect John always being on the road got to yank Sam and Dean away from ever starting to feel too normal and comfortable anywhere until it WAS their normal, while Mary probably took a LOT of emotional punishment for being the weird kid at school who'd probably break someone's nose for teasing her about it but through all the things her father stopped her from doing, presumably had few friends and never got to do anything fun so was always feeling excluded. It's possible she was even homeschooled/had left school early and so that hypothetical from Samuel is about a life she's left entirely behind.

Anyway seeing the pain in her plastering on this smile to her father after a comment like this... it's the most Dean she looks the whole flashbacks we see Amy portraying her and she looks a LOT like Dean in a LOT of scenes because wtf this show's casting :P

Zach Werenski #2

Wrote this bad boy and decided it could turn into a little mini series if you’d like, just say the word guys :) Also thank you so so much for all the likes/love on the first imagine I did for this cute guy.

Word Count: 1,955

Summer nights were your second favourite kind of nights. First being nights when Zach was on the ice and shooting the puck around. So life kinda worked out nice, because when he wasn’t playing it was Summertime and you were just as happy about it. 

“Did you need another beer?” You asked Zach, rounding where he sat at the fireplace with his friends by his side. He looked up, giving you a smile which you took as a yes. 

Zach’ parents, Ken and Kristen, were nice enough to let the two of you - and his older brother, Brad - run away from home for a week. You rented a few cabins on the lake and had been doing more partying, sunbathing and swimming than anything else really. But no one was complaining that’s for sure. 

Jessica, a friend of yours and a few others around here, was hot on your heels as you made your way to the patio stairs. You looked over your shoulder to see her wrapped in a towel and racing to catch up with you. Unlike Jessica, you were too lazy to wrap into a towel and simply threw on your tee shirt over your bathing suit after getting out of the lake. 

“Are you coming back to swim some more?” Jessica asked as the two of you walked into the cabin. Both of our wet footprints pooled on the wooden flooring as you walked across to the kitchen. 

“I think I’m just going to hang by the fire,” you said. 

“Oh,” Jessica sighed as though she was out of breath. 

“Maybe I’ll join you too, can you pass me a Palm Bay?”

You reached for one of the Palm Bays in the fridge, then went to the middle shelf that was full of different sorts of beer - mostly Coors. Grabbing two of those you turned to pass Jessica her drink and then grabbed another two beers so that way Zach or yourself wouldn’t have to do another walk up to the cabin anytime soon. 

“Do you think the guys will start up beer pong when the fire dies out?” Jessica asked and hugged the towel closer to her. You shrugged, but were pretty certain they would. 

“Maybe," 

"Do you think Brad will be my teammate?” She asked, a grin now plastered on her face. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged but gave her a hopeful smile. Pretty much everyone had noticed Jessica trying extra hard to get Brad’s attention the past couple days. Well, everyone except Brad of course. 

“Awesome,” Jessica smiled. 

The two of you made your way out of the cabin and down the backyard to where half the group was sitting around the fire on the beach. Jess made a show of taking off her towel and sitting down in the chair beside Brad, which made you snicker as you walked past Zach to the empty chair beside him. You put the beer in the empty cup colder and he thanked you with a smile before continuing the conversation he was already indulged in. Soon more people whom were swimming joined everyone around the fire and conversation was buzzing around the flames dancing in the night. 

The sun had set, pinks and purples across the sky behind you as you held onto Zach’s hand in his lap and talked to Dylan’s girlfriend about the Guns N Roses concert you and Zach had gone to last week. The conversation sparked up since you were wearing the tour shirt, which lead to your love for the band since you were a kid. That lead to Zach surprising you with tickets cause he’s just that great of a boyfriend.

“It was pretty great,” you smiled. 

“I wish my boyfriend surprised me with concert tickets,” she teased with a pout. Dylan rolled his eyes but she was quick to say she was joking and blow him a kiss. “It’s okay, not everyone can be as great as a boyfriend as Zach,“ 

"Gee, thanks Zach, now you’ve got all our girls with high expectations,” Dylan teased. Zach held up his free hand in surrender. 

“They should have high expectations to begin with, Larkin,” you countered back with a smug look. A couple guys and the few girls around you made some ooo’s and ahh’s but everyone ended up laughing at the chirps. 

Suddenly Brad rose from his seat, his buddy right after him, and he lifted up his beer can. “Beer pong anyone?” He asked, a roar of cheers came to answer him and people began to make their way to the cabin. 

You watched Zach get up, but unlike everyone else he picked up an empty cooler and went the opposite way - bending down by the shore to fill the cooler and then walked back to the fire. You stood from your seat then and took a few steps back from the fire as he put it out. Growing up with a fire fighter for a dad had its perks. Ken would be proud one of his sons took responsibility, regardless how many beers he’s had today. 

“Hey baby,” Zach said while walking up beside you. You chuckled at him and fell into step as his arm went around your shoulder and brought you close. 

“Hey,“ you smiled up at him and grabbed onto his hand with your own. 

"How was the swim earlier?” He asked, pecking your temple. 

“Good, you missed Brad nearly drowning because Justin pushed him underwater," 

"God, I swear they’re more immature and stupid than me and the guys,” Zach stated while you walked up the stairs. “Those couple years they got on us means nothing when they’re in the grave first," 

"You’re not wrong,” you chuckled but shook your head at him.

You were prepared to enter the cabin, where the music was already bumping and ping pong balls were flying. But instead Zach pulled you back and took forceful steps against you till your back hit the wood railing of the patio. You chuckled again and looked up at him. The scar below his left eye was still pretty red, but honestly, it was pretty hot too. As Zach’s hands circled your waist and he bit down on his bottom lip, you reached up to drag your fingertips across his left cheek.

“Honestly,” Zach breathed out and somehow managed to bring your body closer to his, “I’m not sure this summer could get any better,” he stated, his breath was hot against your skin. 

“It’s been pretty great,” you agreed. Your hand wandered up into his hair and then down the back of his neck. “Pretty hot,” you all but sighed out the words before Zach’s lips were on yours. 

His legs shuffled between yours as the kiss grew deeper, hotter, steamy while his hands cupped your bottom and he lifted you up into the air. You broke the kiss only for a moment to gasp, a pit of nerves fell into your stomach as he spun you around and took a few steps. Then you were set down, a cool feeling against your nearly bare butt which made you guess he had set you down on the glass patio table. 

The kiss went back to the same passion, a single finger hooking into your bikini bottoms which made you squirm and a flush of need down there. You let out a deep breath and then brought both hands up to cup his face, suddenly more than willing to bypass the party goers and go to the bedroom you had been sharing the past couple days. Or maybe even be a little adventurous and go down to the lake, skinny dipping was on the to-do list this summer. 

“Hey, Werenski!” The glass door slid open fast and the booming voice that belonged to a very drunk but good friend, Alex, was pecking out. 

You and Zach broke free of each other and you looked over your shoulder while Zach didn’t really even move. Alex’s eyes widened but then he began to laugh. Zach shook his head while you chuckled at the situation. 

“You’re in next game, buddy,” Alex said while jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Or should I scratch that and find someone else," 

"It’s fine,” you spoke for Zach. “He’ll be in in a second, Alex,” you stated with a smile. He raised a brow at Zach which made him glare back and you chuckle. 

The door shut behind Alex but you heard him shout something and a few more people laugh at what you were guessing was you and Zach being caught red handed. You shook your head and put both hands on Zach’s biceps. He looked up at you and gave you a lopsided smile. He leaned down and gave you a quick peck on the lips, but you held him back for a second longer. 

“Go kick ass,” you shooed him off. 

“You coming?” He asked, reaching out for your hand. You smiled and then nodded, grabbing ahold of his hand and entering the bustle of the cabin. 

Zach did kick ass in beer pong. Then you found yourself on the back patio again, this time the light illuminating the beer funnels that were held up by Jessica and Brad for you and Zach. Couples that funnel together stay together, right? After a couple more drinks and a shot from Dylan’s girlfriend and you were dancing on the coffee table in the crowded living room to some Chainsmokers song. 

As the course came in you jumped down and danced with Jessica and your other friend, Kim, singing along with them till the beat dropped. Then you found yourself sandwiched between the two, giggling like a fool with your head thrown back and eyes shut. You opened your eyes as you heard some rowdy cheers from the boys, only to see Jessica and Kim making out in front of you. You screeched and then laughed as they broke apart and laughed too. 

Your head was spinning, but you pecked both the girls on the lips and then continued to dance to your hearts content. Looking over Jessica’s shoulder you saw the Werenski boys talking to each other. But they both weren’t looking at one another, instead their eyes were fixed on you and Jessica. 

“Jess,” you attempted to whisper into her ear and she stopped dancing to look at your curiously. “Make a move on Brad tonight, take him down to the lake or something,” you suggested as Zach leaned towards Brad to say something. 

“Actually?” She started to turn around but you were quick to grab her shoulders and keep her from looking desperate. 

“Keep dancing with Kim, then after this song go get a drink and bump into him, be smooth,” you said and then ended up grinning, “it’s like your my little Jedi in training or something," 

Jessica pulled her brows together and tilted her head, "you had me up to Jedi," 

"Whatever, I need a drink, I’ll see you later. Or not,” you shrugged and then stepped around the crowd till you were walking into the kitchen. Zach and you didn’t break eye contact till you walked past him and got to the fridge. 

You popped open a can of beer and took a sip, pulling out your phone from your back pocket of your jean shorts that you’d slipped into earlier. You scrolled through Instagram, peeked at how many people had looked at your story today and then went to your messages. You replied to one from your mom, telling her you were having fun and still safe but drunk. She respected that you were always so honest with her, mostly since you never got yourself into too much trouble. 

Glancing up you realized Zach was no longer standing in the kitchen. A game of beer pong was being played, people were still dancing and mingling in the living room but you knew a handful of people had also gone downstairs to the rec room to chill. 

You slid your phone back into your pocket and then made your way to the staircase, looking around you saw Dylan’s and his girlfriend sitting in a chair as well as one of her friends and a few other of the guys. Zach sat on one end of the couch, Dylan’s girlfriend’s friend was a little too close to comfort. You entered the room and Zach smiled up at you. 

Without a second thought you sat in his lap, resting your back on the arm of the couch and bringing your legs up so your feet filled the rather small spot that was between him and this blonde chick. Zach gave you a look but it quickly turned into a smirk. You shook your head but couldn’t stop the smug look that mirrored his. 

“So, we’re thinking wake boarding and tubing tomorrow,” Dylan said. 

“Yes!” One of the guys cheered while pumping a fist into the air. You shifted in Zach’s lap while he put a hand on your thigh. 

“I’m down,” you said. 

“Me too,” Zach nodded. 

You brought your beer to your lips and then handed it to Zach, he took a sip and went to hand it back to you but you shook your head and told him he could finish it. Suddenly you were feeling quite content with your buzz and could go to bed any moment now. Conversation kept up around you, but you fought to stay awake and keep yourself in it. 

Zach started to rub your thigh slowly, which didn’t help the whole passing out thing. But as he got dangerously close to your inner thigh you didn’t feel so tired anymore, instead a sort of second wind picked up. You opened your eyes and looked at Zach, his eyes were hooded from tiredness but you could tell by the look in his eyes he could stay up a while longer too. 

“Let’s go to bed,” you mumbled loud enough for people in the room to hear. Zach nodded and you got off his lap. The two of you said your goodnights and made your way upstairs. 

The party wasn’t dying down too much, but it didn’t matter since you and Zach got the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Once the door was closed and the noise from everyone else was blocked out, you looked at Zach and smiled. Once his lips were on yours, you seriously weren’t feeling tired anymore. 

“Best summer ever,” Zach said between kisses while he lifted off your shirt and then his own. You couldn’t help but laugh at his cheesy words. Even though they were so damn true.

*spies an open request bar* hellllooooooo~ so can ask for some tender, classy top? Like just a reader who's glamorous, confident, and sophisticated, and that goes to the bedroom~ Up to you on who, have fun~

Hello there! First off, I can't begin to express how wonderful your writing is. It's such a pleasure to read, no matter who or what the subject is about. I look forward to everything you put out! So keep up the amazing work! With my gushing out of the way, could I please request Junkrat, McCree, Hanzo, and Lúcio with a female s/o who enjoys marking up her man, via lipstick and little hickies, and the boys absolutely LOVE it?? Thank you in advance!!

Junkrat

“Do it again.” he demands and tiltshis head to give you access to his cheek. The old mark has faded awayalmost completely and so you cup his jaw and place another kiss ontop, leaving a faint mark of lipstick. Jamie immediately runs tocheck it out and grins at his own reflection in the mirror, giddywith the idea of everyone being able to see that he belongs toyou.“You know.” you say, leaning against the wall. “Mostmen would be embarrassed to have lipstick marks on their faces.”Helooks at you with wide-eyed wonder and that’s the only reason youbrought it up. “Why?” he asks as if he can’t fathom anyonereacting like that. You shrug, explain it as one of the many culturaldifferences he’s been faced with since leaving the outback.

Usually he removes the lipstick beforegoing out, takes care not to let international law enforcement in onhis love life. It’s costing him, because at his core Jamie is sohappy with you he’d much rather shout it to the heavens how much heloves you.

The marks are his way of assuringhimself that this is real. And there are other ways of course.

“You’re out of my league.” hewhispers when he sits at your feet that evening, rests his head inyour lap and traces the subtle pattern of your stockings. You look upfrom your book, nudge his head a little to make him look up at you.“You are perfect for me.” you say, gently but firmly, and hesmiles happily and nuzzles your hand.

“Your skin is so soft.”

Not like his, he means to say,roughened by a hard life. He never had a manicure in his life, thoughyou think that maybe sometime you should take him, see if he wouldenjoy having himself taken care of. For now you guide him up to sitin your lap proper and proceed to kiss every rough patch on his skin,from the more visible scars to the tiny pocks and marks heaccumulated through the years.

He gets excited quickly, writhes underyour touch, bucks up against you in little jackrabbit thrusts untilyou steady him by placing your hand on his hips and wrapping theother around his cock. His eyes go wide, his mouth open in a littleo-shape as if he still can’t combine you with something as dirty assex.

It takes him time to gather himselfbefore he can reciprocate, careful not to rip your clothes in hisexcitement and intent on mimicking you as best he can.

It’s slow, languid, both of youmostly dressed and seeking contact more for the intimacy than thesexual gratification.

McCree

In the beginning he tries to cleanhimself up for you. He sees himself beside you in his worn out shirtsand holes in his socks and feels inadequate. For a few weeks he keepsit up, neatly shaved and buying himself new clothes from the money hereceives from bounty hunting. But it’s not a lifestyle thatsuits him and by then he learns that you like his scruffy beard, andthe scent accompanying him, of tobacco, coffee and the good but notterribly expensive cologne.

Now he likes to play up the angle ofthe dashing rogue seducing the cream of the crop.

“I have a door, you know.” you sayas you watch Jesse climb in through your window, about as stealthy asa circus with his jingling, gleaming spurs. He grins and tips hishat. You wonder if it’s his old mentor that gave him theappreciation for the narrative. If all his undercover personas madehim appreciate playing a role.

“It’s just two stories. Nochallenge for the likes of me.” he says, shucking his serape andcoming over to kiss you.

“It’s three, actually.” You pushdown his collar to lay his neck bare, kiss one of the fading bruises.“Although I do enjoy you out of breath.”

He laughs and lets himself be pushedonto your bed, both larger and softer to what he’s used to. In afew minutes he’ll be breathing even harder.

There’s a floor-length mirror in themain bathroom and that’s where you find him in the morning, lookinghimself over. He’s covered in hickeys, trailing a path from hisneck to his chest and down to his hips and thighs. He flushes beetred when he spots your reflection and rubs his neck.

“Kinda like looking at ‘em.” headmits, seems to notice only now that he’s standing in front of youfully nude and awkwardly tries to cover his junk. You raise aneyebrow at him.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,precious.”

You walk up to him, move his hands awayand embrace him, tight enough to feel him hardening under your touch.

“And if you like these so much.”you say, tracing the marks on his neck. “Then how about we add somemore?”

Hanzo

The restaurant is high class, discreetusually to allow VIP’s to dine in peace, but also more thanaccommodating for a man on the run with the right amount of credit.It’s the first time in years he wears custom-tailored clothes andhas to admit, even just to himself, that it feels good to indulge alittle.

Besides, he wouldn’t want to come upshort next to you. You turn a few heads when you walk in, looking forall the world like your flawless appearance cost you no effortwhatsoever. He sees, with the eye of someone who is used to lookingfor threats, the admiration and vague envy both of you garner, twobeautiful people together on a date. And that, too, is something hemissed, however petty it might be.

For the most part you avoid the topicsof your respective line of work or the more gruesome details of hispast. You chat about books and movie classics, the places you’vebeen and where you would still like to go.

“Venice.” he says over dessert. “Itwas my parents’ honeymoon destination and my mother always spokefondly of it. I would like to visit it sometime.”“What keptyou?” you ask, noticing how he’s playing with the collar of hissuit. Or rather the faint mark you know lies underneath. He gives youa coy smile but averts his eyes when he says:“The rightcompany.”

You go to Venice just a few monthslater, for business and pleasure both. Hanzo has gotten into thehabit of doing the things he wants as soon as he can. He won’t denyhimself any longer and you enjoy this side of him immensely.

“More.” he demands, panting andpushing up against you, keening when you bite down on his skin andadd another bruise to the pattern you’ve made already.

He can’t stop touching them, asks youto place them where they’ll be visible even fully clothed. Hiswrists end up marked, the line along his jaw and one just under hisear that you abandon in favour of playing with his piercings.

“You belong to me.” you say whenyou take him, listening to his soft cries.

“To you only.” he affirms and wrapshis arms around you, urging you as close as you can get.

The next day you have a set ofjewellery made for him, a bracelet, earrings and a pendant engravedwith your name and the date of your first meeting. A mark that willlast longer than the already fading hickeys.

Lúcio

The tabloid press can’t decide whichone of you is too good for the other. Some say Lúcio’s talent as amusician, his outgoing personality and strong ideals obviously makehim the better catch. Others like to compliment your poise and grace,claim that a thief and activist can’t compare to you. It’s adiscussion you have a ridiculous amount of fun following.

“Says here I’m flirting with theDuchess of Luxembourg.” you say, trying to remember where youtalked to the woman before. It was a fundraiser of some sort, but youcan’t remember exchanging more than two words with her.

Lúcio laughs and peeks over yourshoulder at the article in question.

“I can see why, she’s hot. Youshould ask her out for a date. That other magazine wrote that ourrelationship has cooled down. We should bring some fire back intoit.”

Between fighting evil and your passionfor each other there’s plenty of fire already and you say as muchto him, kissing him goodbye before he goes to record his new album.

His producer notices the faint touch oflipstick but doesn’t say anything. She’s used to Lúcio flauntinghis relationship with you wherever he goes. Even the paparazzi aren’tmuch interested in it anymore. There’s no scandal to be had, noevidence of clandestine meetings on the collar of his shirt. Just aman who enjoys showing the world he has someone to come home to.

Someone he never would have imaginedpassing him a second glance just a few years ago.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” hesays one day, relaxing in the hot tub that still sometimes gives hima guilty conscience. It cost more than his mamãe used to make in ayear. You’re already side by side but you take the opportunity tostraddle his lap, the water swapping up against your belly.

“Funny.” you say between a kiss tohis shoulder and one to the corner of his mouth. “I was about tosay the same thing.”

I Wrote Self Indulgent Angst and I Hate Myself

@starscloset ¤ "Does it get overvhelming having two lovers?" Angela asked, from her seat across from Pluto in the mess hall. "If I had two lovers, I'd be very tired. How do you manage it?" Pluto shrugged, a stupid grin on his face as he moved his food around with his spork. "I love them. Plain and simple. It's all based on communication. It's only tiring because of who they are, and their persobalities. But it's gotten easier." McCree piped up from beside Pluto. "I don't know what you see in Junkrat, kiddo. Or Roadhog, those two are criminals, they've done bad things. You could get roped into a bad situation." Pluto stabbed his potato with his spork. "I'm not dismissing the fact that they're criminals, and I'm not okay with what they've done in the past. But right now, they're good people, they care about this team, and me, and that's all that should matter right now." "But--" "If they do go back to those lives, I won't approve. But I'm not focusing on the future. I'm focusing on the present. And if none of you will at least appreciate that I'm in a healthy loving relationship, then I'll just sit with people who do." Pluto promptly stood up, tray in his hands. "Good day." With a huff, he marched over to the table where Star, Hanzo, and Tracer sat, plunking down next to Tracer before melting into their conversation with a smile. McCree almost broke his spork in anger. "Oh dear, don't be so angry, Jesse!" Angela said, rubbing his arm. "Pluto could do so much better than those two! They're criminals! They'll hurt him!" Angela looked over at Pluto, who had just burst into laughter. "I zhink they're helping him. Mako made him somezhing to help vizh his anxiety, and Jamison is alvays villing to sit vith him when he breaks down in battle, and Mako covers zhem. Jesse, zhey're helping Pluto immensely. If you truly love him, you'll be happy for him." "He deserves someone who isn't completely insane." ¤ McCree finally decided to confront Pluto. "Jesse, what the hell?! Morrison needs to talk to me, let go!!" "I made it up," McCree mumbled. "Morrison doesn't need to talk to you. I just needed to get you away from those fucks." "They have names, Jesse. If they call you by your name, you should at least give them that same respect." "Why did you have to love them?! Why not someone better?! Like me?!?!" Pluto growled. "I didn't choose to love them! I only chose to be with them! I didn't choose to be who I am, but it's me, and it's better for me to express it than supress it!" "Why couldn't you love someone decent?!" "I did!" "Why didn't you tell him?!" "Because I couldn't bear to see Star upset!!" McCree went silent. "You..." "When I first joined Overwatch, I admired Hanzo. I grew to love him. But Star loved him too, and she's my best friend, I couldn't do that to her." "You sacrificed your own happiness for someone else's?" Pluto smiled sadly. "I've done it all my life. And now I finally indulge in something for myself and everyone hates it." He pushed McCree back. "I know how you feel towards me. But please, for as long as I'm allowed before this all goes to shit, let me have this. Let me be happy. I've had to give up so many things in my life, I've never been allowed to be selfish until now. Please, please let me have this. Let me have them. Mako and Jamison...they won't hurt me. I know they won't. They don't want to. They're so gentle with me, gentler than my parents. I'm in love with this, please...let me have this." McCree sighed, grabbing Pluto's hand. "I can't fully respect that." He pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Pluto's face fell. "Please, McCree," he begged. "I've never been this happy before." "You deserve to be happier." "This is the happiest I've ever felt in my whole shitty, anxiety filled life!!" "I can make you happier!!" "You don't even know me! You don't know a damn thing about me! You don't know what I go through! You don't understand what I keep fighting every day!! Jamison and Mako understand! They make sure I'm getting the help I need!!" "You could've told me!" "You never made an effort." Tears brimmed Pluto's eyes. "Please, Jesse, just let me go." McCree pulled Pluto in tight, ignoring the weak pounding on his back. "Please, Jesse," he whimpered. "Let me go." McCree shook his head, sinking to his knees with Pluto. "I can't." "Please, Jesse. You're hurting me." McCree only tightened his grip. "Jesse, it hurts.." "It will at first. You'll get over it soon." Pluto hiccuped as he held his tears back. "Jesse please...just let me go." "I'll do anything to keep you safe. Even if it means locking you away." "Jesse ple-ase...." Pluto was full on sobbing at this point, pushing at McCree weakly. "Let me go-o..." "McCree!!" Both men looked up to see Hanzo, two feet away. "He said let go," Hanzo said, his voice cold. "H....how much did you hear?" Pluto whimpered. Hanzo sighed. "Enough." Pluto let out another sob as he curled away from McCree, muttering swears and apologies like a mantra. Hanzo pushed McCree back and hoisted Pluto into his arms. "Junkrat and Roadhog are worried." With one last glare at McCree, he set a brisk pace down the hall back to Pluto's shared room with the junkers. He paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I wasn't hiding, I assure you. I wasted no time stopping McCree. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner." Pluto looked away, crossing his arms, not as a gesture of anger, but one of security to himself. He hated how he still felt around Hanzo. He still felt his heart flutter when Hanzo spoke to him, he still felt a rush of energy when their hands brushed. But Hanzo is with Star now. You can't ruin it for her. You have Junkrat and Roadhog, why can't you just be happy? He still had dreams about Hanzo. Those vague, pastel, warm dreams you get when you're in love. Pluto felt horrible. Star didn't deserve a friend like him. "Let me down, Hanzo. I can walk from here." Hanzo stopped. "A-are you sure?" Pluto nodded, grunting as he was set on his feet. "Thank you," he mumbled as he walked away. Hanzo sighed, turning in the opposite direction.