Be an unreasonable c***? Fear for your son's life.
been working in the skydiving industry for a number of years (because
my husband is a tandem instructor) and recently our current drop zone
has been short-handed, so I started learning to do manifest.
Side note: doing manifest is basically figuring out which tandem
instructor goes with which student, which is more complicated than it
sounds when you’re at a large DZ and the many instructors have large
egos. End side note.
Today was my second day in the manifest office, and I made basically
the biggest mistake I could make: I missed two people and they weren’t
on the load sheet. I realized this only a few minutes after the sheet
went out, when the mom of one of the jumpers came striding up to my
window and demanded answers.
My manager and I did some quick recon and figured out what had
happened, and I added the two missing jumpers to the last load… which,
based on the order they checked in, would have been the load they were
on anyway. And I apologized for my mistake and explained that
I’m new. Nope, unacceptable. This “let me speak to your manager” haircut
bitch proceeded to ask for a discount for her inconvenience, tell us
she was going to leave a scathing review mentioning me personally, ask
for my name, the manager’s name, the owner’s name, the email address
where the owner could be reached, and just generally made her
displeasure known in a really shitty, aggressive way. She was basically
screaming at me by the time she gave up and I got to slam the window
shut and have a little rage-cry.
Then it was time to figure out which instructor was going to jump
with her special snowflake son. It just so happened that my husband was
up! I waited until just after hubs had finished his ground interview
video with the snowflake (because I knew bitch-mom would be watching
like a hawk) before I waltzed out and gave him a lingering kiss. I also
whispered some unimportant work info in his ear while looking at her.
Watching her realize that her precious baby boy’s life was in the
hands of a man who was, at the very least, sleeping with the girl she
just screamed at… let’s just say it was satisfying.
Prompt: 7) Someone is throwing a Christmas party and “accidentally” pushes Marinette and Adrien under the mistletoe
A/N: Aight girl, a little late cuz I was on vacation and it turned out longer than expected, but Merry Christmas!
Everything was going according to Alya’s plan.
The blogger had gathered her classmates together for a Christmas party after the last day of school, and much to her delight, everyone came to celebrate together- even Chloe. The night was filled with joyous laughter, the Christmas mood truly coming to life since no one had to stress about school work anymore.
We had our first hint of snow in here yesterday, and it brought with it the rush of excitement for the holidays ahead.
I’ve always been a big fan of the snow, ever since I was little, the first sight of snowflakes and I’d get mum to phone Harry’s mum for us to go out and play.
Our little one has already experienced snow. but she was too little to go out and play in it back then, being just six months old, so stayed in her stroller just looking at snowflakes dancing around her, she didn’t seem to like it very much and kept sneezing as the cold flakes landed on her nose, it was such a precious sight.
Now, that she’s older, we let her lose.
As soon as I opened the front door and she saw the white flakes her little eyes were mesmerized and it didn’t take very long until she was bouncing out the door to explore.
We spent ages outside playing, I tried to build her a little snowman, thinking it would be so cute for her to play with but alas, she was far more interested in running around in the snow and knocked over our little snowman without casting a second glance on it.
After we went back in, it kept snowing, and in the end there must have been about 4 inches of fresh snow, ready for play the next morning.
How are your little ones enjoying this holiday season?
[This fic was requested by the wonderful@lilsizzlerI hope you all enjoy!]
fingernails against the cool granite I ignored whatever it was the Botticioni
was saying in case his stupidity rubbed off. I told my father this, Botticioni
is incompetent, and he’s a loose end with no sense of loyalty even if we gave
him good business. We had to set an example, we had to kill the bastard
and take his territory, it would be simple.
“I think he’s right, daddy,”
Ugh. I turned my head, glaring
at Thalia who was standing at our father’s side.
Perfect little Thalia, even
when she was wrong my father would lay down his life to make everyone agree
with her. She was just as stupid, she was too naive for this business but she
had the two-faced part down to a T. She had her talons so deep into our father
it was like I didn’t even exist, but I was used to it. Perhaps a little bitter,
perhaps violently angry, but I was used to being ignored. I’ve killed people, I
see no value in them, I’ve made my father money, I’m one of the best fighters
in this damn city but that didn’t matter. Thalia was a precious little
snowflake who needed to be protected, and I was just a mouthy inconvenience
that he wished our mother had swallowed.
“He very obviously isn’t,” I
sighed, pulling my butterfly knife from my garter to play with.
“Excuse you?” Botticioni
“Y/N,” my father said in
a warning tone.
I threw my hands up in the
air, laughing lightly, “Look, let me break it down for you. This dumbass is
proposing that the Botticioni’s, the (Your Last Name)’s, the Fraser’s, the
Ghad’s, and the fuckin’ crew of rejects down by the river all get together to
take down Mister J? Let’s think about this like we actually got somethin’ up
here,” I tapped the side of my head, “even though, in this room alone only
about 20 percent of the people in here got somethin’ that works.”
“Y/N, stop it-”
“Fuck off, Thalia. Okay, so let’s
think this through. Let’s say we successfully shoot up his clubs, kill his
right hand man, burn down his flat, and start assassinating his clientele, seems
easy right? After all, it is what we do,” there were a few chuckles around the
“So we do all this, then what?
Remember the last time someone tried to get a leg up over The Joker? Oh right,
let us recall the mass murder of four of the most notorious crime families in
Gotham. Remember when that happened again? Oh right, it didn’t because everyone knows better than to mess with him.” I
leaned back in my seat, feeling rather satisfied with myself.
“Your daughter makes a valid
point, but does she usually doubt the intelligence and power of her own father
and her own peo-” I slammed my hands down on the table, and my father yelled
for me to sit down but I refused.
“Why is it all of a sudden you’re
a man with a plan? Half the time you just stand there with your dick in your
hands and now you’re taking charge. I call bullshit.” There were a few grunts
as suspicion began to set in among everyone.
“Hey, at least I have an idea-”
“But it isn’t your idea, is
“Y/N, this isn’t an
interrogation, we are all here to talk business. If you have a problem with
that you can leave,” My father said, his tone cold, but I wasn’t done yet.
“But I am talkin’ business. So
tell me Big B, how much is he paying you to sell us out? That is how this would
work right? You convince us that turning on Mister J is smart, we follow suit
only to be lead into slaughter while you bask in riches. Or perhaps Mister J
isn’t part of it, and this is your own plan. We go off to fight Mister J, you
bail and plead innocence, and when the rest of us are dead you and the others
have our territories to yourself. Correct me, if I have missed anything,” I
knew I wasn’t wrong, I could see it in his eyes, he was perspiring near the
collar of his shirt and I could practically hear the gears in his brain
“I say, he dies.” I said
simply, the Ghad’s agreed with me.
“You don’t get to make
that choice Y/N, you’re becoming very brazen-”
There was a squelch as my
butterfly knife embedded itself into Botticioni’s throat. Everyone watched for
a few seconds in shock as he choked on his own blood and it took everything in
me to suppress my laughter… and then the guns came out.
Hitting the ground hard I
stayed there for a minute, turning my head slowly to glare at my father as pain
seared my jaw and I could taste copper on my tongue. He really had to stop
treating me like I was sixteen; I thought we had gotten past this shit. He
knows if I tried he wouldn’t be able to take me, but he had power over me, I
“You’re too impulsive! Too
foolish for your own good!” he yelled.
“Are you mad because I had the
balls to do what you wouldn’t or because I was right? It is all a little fuzzy
to me,” he slapped me and I lay back on the floor, laughing lightly.
“You’re a disgrace. If it
wasn’t for your mother, God rest her soul, you’d be dead. Do you hear me? Why
can’t you be more like your sister?”
He left me then and I got up,
wiping the blood from my lip when I noticed that Thalia had been watching the
“Don’t you have some asses to
kiss or something?”
“It can always wait when I
have entertainment like this, you think you are so smart-”
“I don’t think,” I moved, my
face a mirror inches from hers, “I know. I
also know that one day I am going cut out that little tongue of yours and shove
it so far up his ass that-” she hit me, it was a pretty good one too and I
“Awww, I kind of feel closer
to you now,” I punched her, hard, and I heard the crack of bone.
buy you a new one, don’t worry,” I said mockingly, storming out the double
I needed a fucking drink.
***Mister J’s P.O.V***
What drew my attention to her
wasn’t her toned little body, nor was it the little lace number she was dressed
in, or the gun in the holster around her thigh, it was her anger. She walked
into Alibi like she owned the place, looking like she was ready to burn it down.
A shiner shaded her cheekbone and blood was smeared on her arm presumably from
where she had wiped her split lip.
She wore her anger well, ordering
herself a drink and it took me a while to recognise her. That was (Your full
name), that was Michelangelo’s eldest daughter, not the boring one. She made a
fire burn in my loins just lookin’ at her, and I watched her intently. She was
a regular here, at first I had considered killing her when I had first saw her
about a year ago because I thought she was scouting the place for her father,
but she was smarter than that.
As if feeling me watching her,
her cool (your eye colour) eyes found mine. There were traces of fear there,
surprise, perhaps a little curiosity, lust, and my favourite… madness. I
gestured for her to come with an index finger and she obeyed (not that she had
a choice) strutting over all slow and seductive before sitting down across from
me in the booth.
“Did you do it?” She asked,
taking a sip of her [insert favourite alcoholic beverage here].
I laughed lightly, knowing to
what she was referring and I liked how quick she was, “Do what?” I gasped,
pressing a hand dramatically to my chest.
The corner of her mouth curved
upward and she pressed a finger to her lip when the wound opened
again. “You know, I know you know,”
I laughed again, “Oh,
you’re good. You’re really, really good. You know I heard you, we had ole’
what’s-his-name wired like a bomb and I heard you. I also heard him choke to
death, it was really quite something.”
She got to her feet, finishing
the rest of her glass before she set it down in front of me, her face a mere
inches from mine. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, have a good night, Mister J.”
His hand curled
around my upper arm and the barrel of my gun was pressed to his stomach in an
instant. The music turned off abruptly and about three dozen guns were pointed
at me but my eyes were on him.
“Clear out the place, now,” he
said in an amused voice.
I was left standing there in
mild confusion as he watched me; the club was vacant with the exception of us
in less than ten minutes. I tucked my gun back into its holster and arched a
“You’re not happy about
killing him, are you?”
“I should have waited, I
should have let my family die as he carried out his plan but I saved them the
moment I killed him. I should have waited. He dotes on her but she doesn’t even
do anything, not that I care,” I said bitterly, moving to the bar to grab a
bottle of their strongest stuff.
“Did dear old dad do that to
I looked down at the black
marble counter top, pausing for a second.
“He’ll pay for it, I’m biding
my t-” he swept my hair over my one shoulder, “time,” I finished,
“They don’t appreciate you,
but I can. Do you want that?”
His hand curled around my
throat and I felt his breath on my ear as he whispered, “Say it,”
Oh, what the hell. Turning to
face him I ripped open the last few buttons of his silk dress shirt, “Yes.”
***Mister J’s P.O.V 1 Month Later***
I had let her go that morning
at the club, I was curious to see what she would do, but now I was regretting
that decision. Sleeping with her was a way to scratch an itch; I was attracted
to her so a good fucking seemed like the best way to quench the hunger her body
created. Now the itch was worse, it was a throbbing ache and I wanted her on
her back with her hands tied, and her legs spread wide for me but she wasn’t
“FROST!” I yelled.
“Yes, boss?” He entered
“Fetch me, Y/N.”
“Yes, boss. If she doesn’t
I smirked. Oh, she will.
I arched a brow as he hummed a
wedding march, his eyes turning my blood into liquid fire, but I didn’t look
“That’s a weird song to have
stuck in your head,” I whispered, gasping as his fingers dug into my lower back
and he pulled me against him.
“We’re going to go to a
My brows knit together in
confusion before they shot up as I realised what wedding he was referring to.
Thalia’s wedding was later on this evening, I had planned to avoid the whole
affair entirely but there was a plan in his eyes that made me reconsider.
“But first,” his fingertips
brushed between my legs and I gasped, “oh, no undies, naughty girl,” he
“I OBJECT!” Mister J yelled
dramatically and I giggled, clutching his arm.
“Y/N?” Thalia said
incredulously, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I came to support my little
sis, silly,” I laughed again, still feeling mildly juiced from the chemical
“You look… different. Why
are you here with him?”
Our father, having had enough,
rose from his seat in the pew and pulled out his glock before aiming it at me.
“You are unwelcome here,
unless you start acting like a [your last name] you can get the hell out.”
Pouting, I turned to Mister
J, “I guess we can’t give her our wedding gift, huh?”
“Wedding gift?” Thalia perked
up, her greed kicking in.
“Just let them go,
honey-bear,” my father urged her.
“It was a really classy gift
too, an apology for being so shitty over the years,” I sighed, and Mister J
patted my hand dramatically.
“I’ll accept it, I mean; it
would be rude to refuse a gift from The Joker.”
I grinned, skipping by my
father until I was at my sister’s side and I pulled the little black box out
from behind my back and she took it eagerly. Leaving her I gave my dad a good
pat on the shoulder as I skipped back to Mister J. Turning to face my sister I
grinned as I said, “This wedding is a blast huh-” KABOOM.
My father screamed as his
little girl splattered all over him, her fiancé had seemed to have lost his
head and his body had fallen on top of a screaming bridesmaid. Mister J laughed
and I giggled, showering his face in kisses for concocting such a plan.
“Let’s go home, doll. We got a
City to rule,” he purred.
“Y/N!!! I’LL FUCKING KILL
YOU!!! I’LL TEAR YOU TO PIECES YOU FILTHY FUCKING-”
I held up my hand, exposing
the sharp black needle that was attached to my ring. His eyes found it and I
laughed, leaning my head on my Puddin’s shoulder. My father’s men couldn’t do a
thing because Mister J’s men had entered the Church with their weapons ready. I
watched as my father’s eyes widened and he touched his shoulder, his face going
“See you in hell,”
Mister J lead me out, the
sound of my father’s gurgled chokes filling my ears like the sweetest song as
he collapsed and died behind us.
So in reply to madd-xea‘s post here, I started out writing just a little two paragraph drabble. Fortunately for you all it evolved into something a little longer.
Regards to Bianchi, I can totally see Akiyoshi be all ‘do we HAVE to tell him?’ And somehow gets MC to agree, so
they just never let him in on it. Then they have to keep dodging questions over the years as suspicions rise.
“Aki, why do you wear that horrid ring round your finger meant for me?” Bianchi narrows his
eyes noticing the offending piece of jewelry on the important ring finger. MC’s eyes widened and
she almost spit out the sip she just took. Akiyoshi chokes on his own drink, Bianchi runs over on
pats him on the back.
“Thanks Bianchi, I think I’m good now.” He says upon recovery. Inching away from Bianchi, who
is still caressing his back.
“Hmph, fine but give me that paltry thing. You shouldn’t be teasing others like that Aki. Rude,
very rude.” Bianchi grumbles trying grab hold of Akiyoshi’s hand.
“Uh, it’s a family heirloom.” Akiyoshi thinking up an excuse on the spot, cringing at how horrible
it sounds out loud.
“Alright, keep the trash.” Bianchi looks suspicious around the rest of the Seasonelle team.
“But no more wearing around here! I not allow such ugly things to dampen my place.”
“Aki! Where have you been? Why you no come around for ages?” Bianchi complains seeing
Akiyoshi and MC sitting at his bar for the first time in weeks. As he approaches he narrows his
eyes suspicious, and crosses his arms confronting the couple.
“How are you so tan? Impossible in Tokyo!” Akiyoshi shuffles uncomfortable in his seat.
“Aki! Why you no talk to me? You hurt me, wound me!”
“Oh um, we were on a business trip. Near the coast.” Akiyoshi insists and tries to change the
subject and order a drink. God would he need a barrel if Bianchi ever found out what him and
the MC were up to on their two week long ‘business trip’.
“You!” Bianchi declares turning around to face MC. Akiyoshi sighs in relief having the attention
off him for a moment. He mouths 'I’m sorry’ to MC, feeling guilty that now she has to face
“You are tanned also. Did you go on this business trip?” MC’s face blushes as she tries sinking
lower in her seat.
“Ummm…” She replies hesitant. Bianchi frowns looking between the pair.
“Suspicious. No more trips romping around with my Aki, you hear?”
Bianchi smiles seeing the Seasonelle team enter the door. His eyes sparkle seeing Akiyoshi trail
in last. 'Ugh, behind that girl! Aren’t they standing a little too close?’ As Bianchi approaches their
table, he notices an offending hand. 'Aki’s is on that thing’s thigh!’
“So what are we drinking tonight?” Bianchi asks the group, but focuses his glare on MC. The
rest of the team places their order, leaving Akiyoshi and MC for last.
“Beer please.” Akiyoshi orders, his grin never leaving.
“And you?” He turns to the MC, frowning.
“Just water please.” She orders looking down.
“Why you come to my bar and no order alcohol?” Bianchi narrows his eyes, glancing around the
“Oh! That’s because MC’s-” Shusei’s happy exclamation is cut off as peanuts are thrown across
the table by Akiyoshi, pelting poor Shusei’s face.
“Aki! Why you make a mess? So rude!” Bianchi turns and goes back to the bar to get the drinks,
forgetting the topic of conversation.
“He doesn’t know!” Akiyoshi hushes explaining to the team.
“About?” Minato asks.
“Anything! So keep your mouths shut or you’ll be writing articles for eternity.” Akiyoshi growls, glaring at the Seasonelle team.
Bianchi sighs, thumping his fingers against the bar. The cold snowy weather lately has everyone
staying inside. It looks like tonight is once again going to be another lonely, bored, evening
spent alone.The door opens and Bianchi’s spirits brighten upon seeing the Seasonelle team
walking inside. He smiles wide as Akiyoshi enters, but frowns when his Aki stops and holds
the door opened for another.
'Ugh. It’s her.’ Bianchi rolls his eyes and approaches the table as everyone is still settling down
and undressing the many layers of coats, scarves, gloves and the like. His beloved Aki is
assisting her with her coat first, before bothering to remove his own. The task is difficult as she
seems to be bundled up ridiculously so. Hmph. Aki doesn’t need a precious little snowflake
who will freeze upon the slightest bit of winter air.
“Bianchi is so please you have come visit even on this dreadful night! Now Bianchi won’t be
alone!” Bianchi cheerfully announces. Akiyoshi pauses midway through helping MC with her
layers. He is frozen as if suddenly remembering something, and looks anxiously at MC before
glancing down. Bianchi notices a small nod between the two of them, as she finally removes her
coat. A feeling of glee swells within him. 'She has gotten fat!’ Bianchi smirks feeling victorious. 'My
beloved Aki has no need of someone with such little self control.’
Bianchi took the group’s drink order, along with bone warming soups and hearty pastas to warm the chills away. Bianchi
is at the bar just gathering the last drink when it happens.
“Aki! She’s kicking!” MC exclaims with excitement. Akiyoshi nearly trips over his chair trying to
reach MC. He places his large hand on her swelled stomach, with a wide grin overtaking his
face. A loud sound of breaking glass disrupts the happy moment. They turn around to find
Bianchi standing there, a puddle of liquids and shards of glass at his feet.
Just wanted to share with you my second experience (first is here) at the Donmar Warehouse Theatre seeing Coriolanus :) (I deeply apologise in advance for my terrible English… Really sorry about that !)
So I went to see Coriolanus yesterday’s evening and as I said yesterday I got a seating ticket this time :
So I had a sit just next from one of the entrances of the actors, and had a much more better view !
What can I say ? Well the play was as great as the week before when I saw it, I think I even notice few changes they made. Tom was really breath taking, they all were, as I said the other time, you can tell they put all their soul in their roles. I’m really glad I had the chance to have a better view this time, because the other time I mostly was able see their ‘body language’, but this time I could also see the expressions and emotions on their faces and that’s priceless !
As I said Tom was amazing, there’s not much more I can add about him, like you know, the guy is born to be an actor. He’s just really good. During the interval two women came to see their friends who were seated just in front of me and they started saying 'he’s really good’ and stuff like that. What can I say ? I couldn’t agree more ! x) And I was so pleased to hear them talking about him that way, I just wished he could have heard them too.
After the play, I waited for him from the other side of the street (meaning I didn’t queue for an autograph or anything), just to see him, I didn’t even take a picture. And he showed up around 11.pm, chatted, took pictures, signed autographs and hugged people, being the precious snowflake he always is.
P.S : I forgot to tell you but I bought the poster. Idk why x)
bmbuniverse a dit : god I wish I were in London to see the play :( I’m really happy for you though ^_^ but why didn’t you ask for the autograph?
I didn’t ask for an autograph because I already got one last year (there is the meeting report) and I even got him to write me his favourite line from Coriolanus (you can see it here). At first I wanted to queue just to tell him how much he inspired me, to be more positive, to love life and to tell him that he’s really talented and stuff like that, but I thought I couldn’t probably tell him all these things looking him in eyes because I’m shy and often stammer when I talk to him so I thought I rather just watch him sign and take pictures with others, so they can have their 'little moment’ with him too.
4netthings a dit : Was he still sick with that cough? Thanks for the great review.
Thanks to you for reading it ! Well I don’t think he’s a cough anymore ;)
Feminists don’t challenge radical Islam because real misogynists are terrifying
Phyllis Chesler has a piece up at the New York Post demanding to know why feminists refuse to challenge radical Islam in any of its manifestations.
The Middle East and Western Africa are burning; Iran is raping female civilians and torturing political prisoners; the Pakistani Taliban are shooting young girls in the head for trying to get an education and disfiguring them with acid if their veils are askew — and yet, NOW passed no resolution opposing this.
What is going on?
Chesler diagnoses rampant feminist cowardice, and she is quite correct. Feminists are largely spoiled, privileged, middle-class girls unaccustomed to concepts like accountability or responsibility, and courage is a rare sight with this lot. But Chesler misses just what feminists are terrified of:
Feminists are, typically, leftists who view “Amerika” and white straight men as their most dangerous enemies, while remaining silent about Islamist barbarians.
Feminists strongly criticize Christianity but they’re strangely reluctant to oppose Islam — as if doing so would be “racist.” They fail to understand that a religion is a belief or an ideology, not a skin color.
The new pseudo-feminists are more concerned with racism than with sexism, and disproportionately focused on Western imperialism, colonialism and capitalism than on Islam’s long and ongoing history of imperialism, colonialism, anti-black racism, slavery, forced conversion and gender and religious apartheid.
And why? They are terrified of being seen as “politically incorrect” and then demonized and shunned for it.
Radical Islam is their delusion of “patriarchy” actually coming to life: radical Islam is misogyny personified, and real misogyny doesn’t care how you sit on the subway or what temperature the air conditioning is set to.
What radical Islam does is remind feminists that if patriarchy were a real thing in our culture, if men hated women and wanted them chained in basements we would be chained in basements. In actual fact, Western men are the most indulgent, permissive, tolerant men you will find anywhere on the planet, and in the face of real misogyny, whining feminists end up looking like petulant toddlers tossing expensive toys out of their designer prams complaining they are oppressed.
They’ll never criticize radical Islam because that would require courage and the willingness to face down men who haven’t been steeped from birth in the “our women are precious, precious snowflakes who must be protected at all costs” brew of feminist of Western culture. Radical Islam doesn’t care that you’re a little brave feminist woman with your Macbook and Gender Studies degree who sticks up for Muslims. That doesn’t spare you as much as you’d like to believe.
Feminists are cowards. They are pampered, privileged women who have never worked a day in their life at anything truly challenging or difficult, have overcome no hardships more severe than a spilled latte, have triumphed over no adversity greater than running out of Play-doh in their safe space. Feminists can barely muster the intellectual stamina to fight with words, and generally resort to name calling and shrieking for a dictionary when challenged. They prefer to silence critics by using false claims of harassment. They would rather appeal to authority than take personal action or assume personal accountability.
Radical Islam frightens feminists because it makes it just so clear how very privileged, revered, fortunate and favored Western women really are. If and when push comes to shove, feminists are going to have to swallow every hateful word they have ever written about the men in their own societies and plead for their protection.
Let’s hope that day never happens. But if it does, then at least they won’t look quite as insane when crying over being oppressed by the patriarchy. It’ll for once be a reality.