I left the house before dawn to try to catch the morning light, but the dawn proved to be cloudy and I was unsatisfied with my results. I did make a stop to finally visit F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald’s grave in Rockville, Maryland. They rest in a small cemetery adjacent to an old Catholic church, just off of a busy intersection in the middle of the city. There are no tour buses, souvenir stands, or even signs pointing out the site. There is just a single mention, in the last line of an information plaque for the small church.
I never bothered to read “The Great Gatsby” until later in my life. When I finally did read the book, I loved the writing so much that as soon as I finished the final page, I turned back to the first and read the novel all over again. Discovering his writing was a pure delight, like hearing Charlie Parker, or Mozart for the first time.
to this day I still think about the time one of my homegirls went to this niggas house to get some dick and took 3 city buses to get there and when it was time for her to go she ain’t have no money and he didn’t even wanna call her a Uber so he gave her a pillow and a sheet AND MADE THAT BITCH SLEEP IN THE BATHTUB LMFAOOOO 😂😭
Also a time for the night owls to be released into the wild,
also known as one’s own thoughts.
A dimly lit cigarette was tossed onto grass, left to burn to
ashes. Its owner stepped out from the shadows, walking under the moonlight atop
The moon was full and clear tonight, illuminating the dark
city before him. Occasionally, the faint red and yellow lights of cars whizzed
about, but it was rare at this time of night.
It was almost 3AM, god forbid. Saeran Choi could not sleep.
Even smoking appeared to have no effects on him. Perhaps
he’d become immune to it after so long. Aah, he really was a mess, wasn’t he?
He chuckled humourlessly, staring up at the bright moon above.
How had he ever survived through his childhood like this?
He closed his eyes, embracing the darkness. The image of a
little girl flashed through his mind, and a nostalgic pain tugged at his heart.
Ah, that’s right. That person had
been there for him as a child.
Two boys. A
playground. A setting sun.
“Saeran, wait for me
here, okay? I have a surprise for you!” Saeyoung grinned impishly, patting his
little brother’s head. Saeran nodded, hands clenched at the front of shirt as
he shyly looked up at his twin.
He watched Saeyoung
sprint around the corner, running towards a musical tune. Saeran sat quietly on
a bench, swinging his legs anxiously. Saeyoung would be back soon… right?
He squeezed his eyes
shut, trying to pretend like he wasn’t scared. He was a big boy now. He
couldn’t be scared every time his brother left him alone.
Although, this was
different. This was the first time he’d been left alone outside. Saeran was
usually locked up at home by their mother, unless it was absolutely necessary
to leave the house. From the barred windows at home, he would always watch
little kids playing together, walking home from school, happily living out
their life. But today was special.
It was his birthday,
and Saeyoung had decided to help him sneak out of the house. Today, they’d be
staying out until the stars were twinkling above their heads. It would be worth
their mother’s slaps, kicks and screams later.
Light footsteps echoed
in the park, and Saeran gladly opened his eyes, relieved that his brother had
returned. But when he looked up from the ground, he found himself staring at a
young brunette child, a curious expression on her face.
“Why are you alone?”
she asked, “Are you lost?”
Saeran quickly shook
his head. “U-uhm! No, I-I’m waiting for my brother,” he hurriedly responded,
his voice quieting down with every word. His cheeks were flushed red, and he
tried really hard not to look away from the little girl.
It was the first time
he’d spoken with anyone other than his brother, and he couldn’t help but feel
nervous. Was he talking like a normal kid? Did she think he was weird?
“Oh!! I think I saw
your brother! He looks just like you,” she exclaimed, eyes lighting up.
The little girl hopped
next to him on the bench. “What’s your name?” she questioned, tilting her head
cutely as she smiled encouragingly.
“S-Sae-“ he paused,
then spoke louder. “Saeran. My name is Saeran.”
“Sae…ran,” she tested
his name, then grinned. “I’m MC! Yay, now we’re friends~”
blushing and repeating the name in his head. His first friend. “Uhm, t-today’s
my birthday,” he mumbled, not wanting the conversation to die down.
“Really?” MC said
excitedly. “I just had my birthday yesterday! Ooh I’m older than you by one
Wow. She was so…
bright, and cheerful. Saeran felt somewhat relieved that it wasn’t awkward to
talk to her.
A lady in the distance
called for MC, making her frown.
“Awwh… Mommy says I
have to go,” she looked down sadly. “Even though we just became friends…”
“Let’s meet again
Saeran felt his heart
drop, disappointment welling in his chest. “I can’t,” he mumbled, trying to
hold back tears as he thought of his cage-like home.
“Then… let’s exchange
emails?” she suggested.
His eyes lit up. That,
he could definitely do. He nodded quickly, a small smile on his face.
MC beamed, and
proceeded to write her email address in a small notebook, ripping out the sheet
of paper to hand it to him. “Talk to you later! Let’s meet again one day when
you’re free, okay?”
‘When you’re free,’
she had said.
To Saeran, that held a
double meaning. Being ‘free’ would mean that he’d have to be free from his mother’s
brother’s familiar voice echoed through the park, his steps making a quick
pitter-patter on the ground. In his hands were two ice cream cones. When he
reached Saeran, he thrusted the mint-chocolate ice cream cone at him. “Happy
A girl. Ice cream.
End of Flashback.
It had only been one day in his life, but to Saeran, that
day had changed many things in his life. Ice cream was a symbol his first taste
of the outside world. Not to mention, he’d made his first friend that day, with
whom he continued to communicate through email. In fact, it was indirectly due
to MC that he started hacking. In his free time when he waited for her replies,
he’d study coding, and observe the various patterns and codings of websites.
And it was thanks to his hacking skills (which eventually
developed over the years) that he was accepted into Mint Eye. Now, he was free.
His eyes opened to the vast, dark sky. The stars were now
covered by dark, stormy clouds. Looks like it would rain soon.
“Where are you now?” he wondered aloud as he sat up, a
content look in his eyes. MC would always remain a precious person to him.
Although they’d lost contact after his mother found out about his connection to
the outside world, Saeran vowed to never forget her. She had been the first
light in his life, cheerily brightening up his day.
And now, over 10 years later, his vow still held true.
Droplets of rain started to fall from the sky. Dammit.
He walked downhill, irritation bubbling in his chest. He
still needed to run to the convenience store to restock on cigarettes.
Considering the sudden rain, he would have to take the bus there.
Because there was no fucking way he’d carry around an
umbrella—it would completely ruin his image. (He takes pride in looking
With quick, long strides, Saeran easily made it to the
rooved bus stop. Let’s hope the bus comes
Fortunately for him, his wish came true, as a bus pulled up
to the stop in the next minute. It was 3AM in the morning after all. There was
no traffic, and city buses were a 24/7 service.
As he expected, the bus was empty. The driver cast him an irritated
glance, “Hey. You gonna pay or what?”
Right. The joys of public transportation. Saeran grunted,
tapping his card against the payment screen.
The bus almost started again, but it screeched to a stop as
a voice shouted, “WAAAIT!”
Saeran’s ears perked up, although he kept his gaze out the
window. He didn’t really care, though he was slightly surprised that someone
else was still up at this time.
A young woman made her way onto the bus, panting as she
tapped her card to pay. “Th-thanks,” she said, taking a seat next to Saeran.
What the- there was literally EVERY other seat on the bus
and she had to sit next to him? He turned in her direction to glare at her, but
faltered as his eyes met hers. Shock spread across his features, silencing him.
She was the first to break the silence. “Could you be…
Saeran?” Her eyebrows were furrowed as she analyzed his features.
The both of them had grown up a lot over the years, although
there were still a few distinct features that were recognizable.
Happy birthday to a fabulous lady, @papofglencoe! I’ve been working on this story for a while and it’s very close to my heart. As are you. So this is my gift to you. Thank you for your friendship and support in everything! I love you! <3
Rated M for mature themes. Unbetaed so forgive my mistakes.
🔴 UPDATED - Justice League Movie reshoots are currently happening at Cardington in Shed 1, next door to where the Chris Nolan Dark Knight movies were filmed.
We got a tip from our source in England that Gotham City police cars and buses, as well as, older model America sports cars were spotted tucked away at the rear half of Shed 1. The skeleton statue that Ben Affeck/Batman is standing on in the official trailer (see pic below) is also there, wrapped up in black plastic.
The Henry Cavill posted an Instagram photo of him in classic Superman attire earlier this morning (see below). Confirming he is involved in the reshoots.
The Justice League Movie is due out November 17th of this year.
You’d think that being an extremely sensitive,appreciative, and intuitive human being, you’d be so happy to be yourself.
I sit and analyze how beautiful someone’s skin tone is or how breathtaking it is that their eyes melt into different colours
or how someone moves with rigidness or ease or the way someone’s body curves in this tidal wave of sensuality and confidence;
and I stop and realize in the depth of my thinking,
that no one will ever look at me and think any of these things.
No one will stop me mid-sentence to capture my eyes in a certain lighting or my laugh in a certain sincerity.
No one will stare while I’m looking away and study (or even notice, let’s be honest.) my characteristics.
No one will fall in love with the way my mouth moves or body curves or voices lifts.
No one will fall in love with me as a being. See me as part of nature and its many creations.
And this, this is why I despise myself.
What a grand gift to have.
“Yes, that’s right, I’m your fake girlfriend. Big emphasis on the fake there, buddy. How about you calm down?” We had started walking back to the cars. I had my elbow crooked around Jared’s and I could see Susan ahead of us, hand in hand with the poor tech Jared had suckered into escorting her. Shannon and several other members of the crew were behind us.
“You shouldn’t be hanging all over other guys in public,” Jared whined. It was clear he was rattled. I could barely hide my smile, knowing what was coming next.
Ash’s Negan Writing Challenge 2: Post-Apocalyptic Driving School
Summary: Negan is flabbergasted that his lady friend never learned how to drive before the world ended. He takes it upon himself to teach her how, and rewards his “student” with some vehicular naughtiness.
This is a smutty Negan x Rebecca (#Nebecca) drabble I wrote for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash‘s Negan Writing Challenge for the Driving Instructor prompt. It takes place after Embracing the Apocalypse (But you totally don’t have to have read that at all to enjoy this. Promise!)
Word Count: 3,255
Content Warnings (or selling points?): Negan being Negan, language, smut, finger fucking, hand jobs, and cum.
Ash’s Negan Writing Challenge 2: Post-Apocalyptic Driving School
“Hold on a fucking minute! What the fuck do you mean you
don’t know how to fucking drive, Fuckface?” Negan’s face was a perfect
combination of amusement and wonder as the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow
on his tanned skin.
He and Rebecca, the aforementioned “Fuckface”, strode side
by side along the perimeter of the Sanctuary, enjoying the crescendo of a
beautiful spring day. The sky was spotted with just a few scant puffs of cloud
and the grass was beginning to return to life after a brutal winter. As annoyed
as she was at the smug smirk that Negan wore, she couldn’t bring herself to let
it get to her. Not today.
“That was a whole lotta ‘fucks’ there, my friend,” she
replied casually with an easy smile on her face, “And to answer your question:
Nope. Never learned. Always thought I would eventually, but then the world
ended, so it kind of took a back seat…Pun intended, by the way.”
In what is widely considered to be the first public act of opposition in former communist Yugoslavia, a man nicknamed “The Phantom” stole a white Porsche 911 Targa
and raced it through the streets of Belgrade for ten consecutive nights, to the delight of thousands of onlookers and the dismay of police, who were powerless to stop him.
Vladimir Vasiljević, also known as Vasa Opel or Vasa ‘The Key’, was a car enthusiast in his late twenties, famous in parts of Belgrade for his unparalleled ability to unlock any car, no matter the make or model. Another contributor to his fame was his nightly habit of doing it to cars that weren’t his, taking them for a ride, then returning them to their rightful owners with a full tank of gas.
The event that would turn him from a local character into a nationwide sensation happened in September of 1979, while President Tito was on a state visit to Cuba for a Non-Aligned Movement Summit. It was then that Vasiljević managed to hotwire a white Porsche convertible, belonging to tennis player Ivko Plećković. After ‘borrowing’ it, Vasiljević would drive it at breakneck speed around Belgrade city centre every night after 10 PM, attracting more and more spectators with every lap.
Pictured: Belgraders gathering to watch the Phantom race.
Towards the end of his ten day adventure, several thousand people would congregate on the streets, night after night, just to watch Vasiljević do stunts. He would announce his route every night by calling into a local radio station, taunting police who were unaware of his identity and under pressure to capture and punish him before Tito returned from the Summit.
Pictured: The only existing photograph of the Phantom.
The cars available to police in ‘70s Yugoslavia couldn’t match the Porsche’s speed, so they had no chance of catching up to him during his nightly races around the city centre, and the people of Belgrade, who thought of Vasiljević as a rebel and a hero, kept quiet about his identity in spite of their probing. A photographer with the daily newspaper Politika captured the above image of the Phantom in action, but chose not to publish it in order to protect Vasiljević from police repercussions.
This spectacle went on for ten nights, until the police set up a trap at Slavija Square, using several city buses to block the Phantom’s path. The Porsche crashed into the police blockade, but Vasiljević managed to jump out of the car at the last minute and disappear into the mass of people who had gathered to watch. The crowd, ever on his side, shielded him from the police and allowed him to escape, unharmed.
Pictured: The famous white Porsche crashing into the blockade.
However, a couple of days after the crash, someone tipped the police off to the Phantom’s true identity (some of his contemporaries contest this and claim he turned himself in). He was arrested and sentenced to two and a half years in prison.
By all accounts, Vasiljević was a model prisoner. The only instance of him misbehaving during his incarceration was when, one day, after his sister’s visit, he escaped through a vent, then came back to prison of his own accord three days later. He claimed he had had to go for “just one more drive”, “to show the cops they hadn’t won”. For this, he was sentenced to 30 days in solitary, then served the rest of his prison sentence in peace and without incident.
Unfortunately, the story of the Phantom doesn’t have a happy ending. He died in a car accident under mysterious circumstances in 1982, not long after his release from prison. Some believe the police never forgave him for how he had humiliated them for those ten days in 1979 and either tampered with his brakes or sent someone to purposely crash into him.
The remnants of Vasiljević’s car following his fatal accident.
Whatever the truth may be, even though Vladimir Vasiljević’s life was cut short many years ago at just 32 years old, the story of his reckless bravery and racing prowess lives on in the legend of the Belgrade Phantom.
Apparently half of Sweden is up in arms over a new exhibit by Liv Strömquist featuring women on their periods enjoying their lives - because her art is displayed in the metro, which means people ‘have to see it, whether they like it or not’, and to be honest I’m fed up with this attitude? We don’t get a choice about ads, either - what can I do, as a citizen, if I don’t agree with half my city, and my buses and trains (stuff I pay for, by the way) being plastered with naked women and luxury shoes and cars and a new brand of perfume which will either make me irresistible or invite men to beat me up (often the message is not that clear)? And why, exactly, should I spend my whole day being flooded with messages about stuff I don’t need and don’t want and can’t afford? And yet, you never hear people complaining about ads. Or when they do, it’s because the image is inappropriate, and yay for citizen power, but as soon as the scantily dressed woman is swapped for a soda or a blender, we all go back to our lives, accepting that order has now been restored and all is well. Ads are so ubiquitous we don’t even think to challenge their presence anymore, and on bad days, that annoys the hell out of me. Seriously - how are we okay with a faceless corporation pushing a new mascara on us so we can finally embrace our inner vixen and stop walking around as boring and unattractive half-women, and yet we’re so ready (men and women, apparently) to huff in disgust at some art featuring someone on her period? For fuck’s sake - priorities, people.