#I’m so sick of people bitching about capitalism and politics but then turn around and say voting is pointless

[bioswear]

If you really want to beat the game and take down the evil monsters in corporate and government positions, guess what? You gotta participate in the fucking game and that means voting for the people who won’t actively try and kill you or hinder progress or vote for bills in the secrecy of night like the scum of the earth

[arlingtonpark]

Harrow the Ninth Act I Thoughts

This is all your fault, @ghostmartyr. If you hadn’t reblogged what seemed like heavy metal boy band fanart, I wouldn’t be in this hole. And for that, I hate you.

So.

When I first encountered the Locked Tomb online, I couldn’t tell if it was a story about edgy, neogothic, teenaged angst, or something better than that.

Turns out, it’s both.

But in a good way.

I love it. It’s great.

It’s unabashed, it’s thoughtful, it’s entertaining, it’s suspenseful.

Gideon the Ninth is finished, and after starting Harrow the Ninth, I decided to blog about it as I go.

I’ll be doing one post for every act of the book. I hope.

Let’s start with our new main character, Harrow. Newly reborn as a god and one of the only survivors of the last book.

So….

Right now, Harrow’s…

Um.

She’s uh…

-gestures at everything-

She’s fucked.

Fucked, broken, in the shit, started godhood on the wrong side of the bed.

200 babies were killed in the name of birthing her. Her parents died in front of her because of what she did. Death has always seemed to follow her, and she carries the burden of all that death.

Harrow despises her existence and wishes she were dead because of the circumstances of her birth, and yet for that very reason she is committed to living, because if she dies, all those sacrifices would be null.

She takes up the duties of governing the Ninth, she applies herself rigorously to mastering necromancy, and when the opportunity arises to become a lyctor, she jumps at it.

Harrow does this because it’s why all those people had to die. She was birthed to carry the Ninth’s legacy; its traditions and obligations and to some extent its very existence.

The twisted nature of the Ninth and her parents is inseparable from that legacy, so in a sense it was that legacy that led to her infanticidal birth, but regardless, this legacy is all she has. It’s all she was ever meant to have. And so she devoted herself to it.  

Now that she’s a lyctor and her house’s future will be guaranteed, but to do it, she had to sacrifice Gideon, whom she loved.

It’s more of the same shit from her perspective: more people dying for her sake. 200 babies die to grant her obscene necromantic talent, her girlfriend dies so she can gain even more power. Harrow doesn’t mean to step on innocent people to get what she wants…but that’s always how it’s turned out for her.

But to add insult to injury, even after all she’s sacrificed, she still didn’t get exactly what she wanted.

Her house will have a future, but she can never return to it. She’s essentially divorced from the only thing that gave her life meaning.

She can never return to her old life; to the extent she saw that as desirable, she can’t have that. Her old life is gone forever.

Something also went wrong with her ascension to godhood. She’s violently sick, mentally unstable, and the powers she should have are…half baked, for lack of a better word.

Nobody said you could get hungover from ascending to godhood. Harrow should sue.

It’s like going in to surgery to remove a tumor and coming out lobotomized.

Is she even immortal?

It all stings of pointlessness. All that effort for nothing.

Worse than that; She lost everything. Her home, her love, her pride and dignity.

Her only purpose in life now is to fight these hell beasts that she’s never heard of before. Happy days ahead, surely.

Oh, and one of the people she’ll have to work with is named Gideon.

Does God hate her?

And then there’s God.

This guy is sus as hell.

He’s gracious and humble. Perpetually calm and soft spoken. Empathetic and understanding. That’s what He’s like in person.

But He’s…maybe the villain? I guess.

God works in mysterious ways, and I have no damn clue what His are, but it’s probably ugly.

Yes, He’s a cordial Dude…but he’s still the God-emperor of a galactic undead empire.

Dude wears a crown made from the bones of dead babies FFS.

Not to be accusatory, but this guy definitely has skeletons in his closet.

-bu-dum-tish-

One of the things that really got my attention while reading this series is how the magic system in this world is depicted. Usually, in fantasy stories, the magic system is depicted as being morally neutral. Good guys use it, bad guys it, but the magic itself just is.

The Locked Tomb Trilogy isn’t like that.

Necromancy is bad. Perverse, even.

All the necromancers are frail and sickly. Practicing it is deleterious on the body. Doing too much too fast with it causes even more pronounced harm. As in, bleeding from your sweat glands.

Necromancy works by manipulating the life force of living beings and, primarily, the death force those being give off when they die.

The forces of nature that necromancy utilizes are (apparently) fundamental to the universe, akin to the laws of nature, but the use of those forces in this way are clearly a perversion.

It’s sort of like a bad tv show, like Sword Art Online. Sure, the things that went into making the show are natural parts of the world, but you just can’t put those things together like that.

John and his empire epitomize that.

All known beings in the universe are fundamentally thalergetic in nature. They are beings who radiate life energy. Except for the planets of the empire. Those planets and the star they orbit are thanergetic in nature.

They literally radiate death. And they are apparently one of a kind in that regard.

John is the first necromancer. John used his newly harnessed powers to “resurrect” multiple planets that had died.

Except he didn’t really resurrect anything, he turned them into an entirely new form of being using his entirely new form of science that uses some kind of mechanism that doesn’t occur naturally.

What I’m getting at here is that everything about John, his power, and his empire is artificial. Man-made. Perhaps even John-made.

We don’t actually know what happened during the Resurrection. What killed off the planets, how John attained his God-like powers, and what life John lived before it.

Oh, yeah, and every planet the empire conquers is systematically killed over generations to fuel their necromancer’s powers.

Every planet God touches literally dies.

One thing I appreciate about this series is how layered the story is.

The Locked Tomb series is a fun, irreverent romp. It’s about allowing the past to rest in peace. It’s also surprisingly political.

The metaphor is pretty blunt: it’s about capitalism. What’s more, the metaphor seems to be from a progressive or maybe even socialist perspective.

Ok, so hear me out on this. This is less fan theory than speculation about the author’s intentions.

The empire is a society built on a system that requires them to move from planet to planet, gradually killing those planets until they have to evacuate and move to a new one.

This process of gradual death takes generations to play out, so apparently they don’t even consider it to be an event that happens.

The heart of this system is necromancy, a perverse science that is ultimately derived from natural phenomena.

This system places the most powerful necromancer atop a literal throne and worships them as God.

God’s disciples are the lyctors, second only to Him in power. They attained that power by a very special process.

The lyctoral process is exploitative. It requires the necromancer to use their cavalier as a sacrifice and to turn their soul into a power source.

The lyctoral process is built around domination. The necromancer, in sacrificing their cavalier, subsumes the cavalier’s soul into their being to gain power.

The lyctoral process is dehumanizing. The cavalier is degraded from a person to a mere battery, but the necromancer is degraded in a way as well. The necromancer can never return to their house, or any of the other houses for that matter. Instead they must fight and die for God in his battle against the Revenant Beasts.

If you’re progressive, this may sound familiar to you.

Relationships of exploitation, domination, and dehumanization. A society built around perversions. That rewards people with talent in those perversions with idolatry. That cold-heartedly and shortsightedly extracts every drop of usable resources from a planet until it is dead, then moves on to the next one.

To a socialist, this may sound a lot like capitalism.

Saying that is already bold enough for me, so I won’t try to argue that it’s a one to one allegory. Necromancy equals the profit motive, lyctors represent the relationship between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat (So I guess that means the non-lyctor necromancers are the petit bourgeoisie) and the empire is humanity.

You could make a case for it, but the hot takes in this post are already pretty spicy, so…

OMG Mercymorn. XD

Mercymorn is my favorite out of the new characters. She’s a bitch.

Snide, rude, assertive, bitchy, and standoffish. No, it’s not that I want her to step on me, I just can’t get enough of her interactions.

I guess in real life she wouldn’t be fun to be around, but as a character in a book, she steals every scene. Her arrogant and bitchy remarks always make me laugh.

My one wish heading in to Act II: that Mercymorn is in charge of Ianthe’s training.

Just so she can kick her ass for not measuring up to her standards.

[randomlerson75]

Stuff people at my high school have said or done

• “I’ll just pretend I broke my ankle. I’ll limp a little”

• “You’re face doesn’t even have many bones”

• “Do you wipe your ass with your fingers”

• “I look cute though so I’m saving it”

• “They’re not dirty minded they just have a sexy brain”

• “This is not a good situation now. I’m not happy”

• *sleeping in class and randomly screams* “STOP!!!”

• “I’m coloring my weed symbol”

• “I stretch pretty violently I’m sorry”

• “I look like I’m more full of life than you”

•”I’m a good person” “haha ok”

• “I’m gonna round it to the nearest 11”

• “You don’t always have to swallow”

• “What a fucking time to be alive”

• “why are you harissing me”

• “That’s why you turn around and punch him in the face”. “I don’t have time”

• “You are the highest grade”

• “Does it taste normal”. “No it tastes good”

• “Why are we all up in this cold ass blueberry”

• “The sun can’t be that hot”

• “I could have overreached but that would make me stupid”

• “I’m all muscle bro, it’s tight on me”

• ”I’m a stripper that’s how I make my money”

• “You’re my mom” *talking to the teacher*

• “Are you high” “just get it off”

• *laughs normally* “you sound like a pedophile”

• “Pinkie ring until I roll”

• *about to jump off a cliff in a video for free diving* “push her”

• “Capitalism is ok”

• “It’s so funny how you can be alive one second and dead the next”

• “Change the m in marijuana to a j. Jarijuana”

• *teacher puts desk in the hallway*

• “He smoked water”

• “You can’t speak Latin” “Can you?”

• “May I acquire a pencil” “yes you may” “have a blessed day”

• “I’m going to write a book about how depressed I am”

• “God has forsaken me”

• *girls trying to stab each other with scissors*

• “I got a pretty long weenus. It looks like a penis”

• “My skeleton is twerking”

• *draws a skeleton twerking* “this is why it’s fun to learn art”

• “Why does he have eye holes?” “He’s a skeleton”

• “Don’t get my businesses ”

• “YOU ARE A WHORE”

• “love is so good”

• “Happy 17th day of birth”

• “You know it’s cold when you walk outside and it’s cold

• “why are you smiling like a creep Jess?” “That’s my normal face”

• “I’m living my best life, right here right now”

• *About thirty kids doing nothing but snapping*

• “Yes, I am very racist about smart boards”

• “I used to be like ;) but now I’m like :|”

• “Physically I’m here but mentally I’m still at home”

• “Emotions are like hurricanes. They never go where they are suppose too”

• “it took me a whole 27 minutes”

• “I would pay for the fire alarm to go off again”

• “Why did we get such a gay name like Florence”

• “this is my dad” *points to Albert Einstein

• *A REAL debate on wether to rip the clippy part off of mechanical pencils*

• “Not gonna lie. I grinded a friends marathon this weekend”

• “FINISH THE TEA”

• “You should know to never mess with another persons tech deck”

• “She has a thing against white people even though she’s white”

• “Speak of the devil. All white, what a fright”

• “You are a children”

• “You think a bull in a china shop? How about a bomb in a restaurant”

• “Me do”

• “I cheesed myself”

• “I never said I was going to jump you at Bojangles”

• “Knitting is VERY fun”

• “I’m not good enough, I’m great enough”

• “North Korea, South Korea, Same thing”

• *drops pencil* “NOOOOOOOOO”

• *light flickers* “excuse you”

• “You can make Australia bigger?”

• “Why don’t we burn people at the stake anymore for doing crimes. It was proven very effective”

• “It’s like I went into the pits of hell”

• “Can I borrow her crutches” “She has a lot”

• “You have arms?”

• “I was born thick”

• “I wasn’t sick I was drunk”

• “be a good person. Go go go”

• “Lotion and ravioli”

• “It smells like weed in here”

• “F*ck oxygen”

• “bring it back tomorrow or you die”

• “Tables are for glasses, not asses”

• “Stick it in between her boobs”

• “A lot of religions end in ism” “Christianiaism”

• “I just want someone to snort my ashes. That would be cool. Mix it with a little cocaine”

• “The United States of Australia”

• “Clark Kent who. I’m kidding, that’s not even Spider-Man”

• “Mental cheese”

• “Your blood is not supposed to make whistling noises”

• “Who sleeps on a Friday night”

• “A whole ass race”

• “that’s a sexy button” “I know right”

• *Screams* “and....”

• “Judaism is neither a religion or race”

• “Have you ever met someone and thought ‘wow. I would feel no remorse killing you’”

•“I hate this school with a burning passion”

•“Beep beep in your seats”

•“What is wrong with the world? The simulation is breaking”

•“What if we’re each other’s dad”

•“You use mental gymnastics to get around your head and get what you want”

•”You can’t just roll up to North Korea. You have to beat me in bingo”

•*teachers wear a dress and played despacito on the trumpet*

• “He’s a stingy boi”

• “A for anarchy? Dude i wish”

• “shut up I’m choking”

• “The snack the smiles back” “GOLDFISH!!!”

• “Where’s the pointy boi?” “I don’t know. I have the thick boi”

• “Dude. Fish can’t talk”

• “Stop taking my eraser” “it’s a ruler” “it can be whatever it wants to be”

• “A female vacuum is attractive”

• “I can love you but not like you”

• “I am mother gothel mentally, physically and spiritually

• “Mother gothel is my religion”

• “IM GETTING A COW!!!!”

• “It’s like Leonardo Da’Vinchi but instead it’s Leonardo Decaprio”

• “I wish I had some crippling disease. Schizophrenia would be nice”

• “I’m gonna kill someone for the rush of adrenaline I’ll get. I’ll get pumped, then I’ll work out”

• “Should I become an important political figure”

• “My cats might have eaten him”

• “Who else is trying to overthrow the government”

• “Where’s our kid?” “He looked at me funny and I had to teach him a lesson. I flushed him down the toilet”

• “I text Jesus all the time”

• “You are a saucy boi”

• “Your neck is really soft. Do you know that?”

• “Um. No professor. I don’t give a fuck”

• “Bro I look like a whole ass beetle”

• “You know? I’m definitely going to hell. But I’ve accepted that”

• “We need to go to the woods and have a collective cry”

• “Moths = whore”

• “Can we watch more food videos”

• “Just outlive the old people and health care prices can go back to normal”

• “Let’s just start the gladiator games again to handle population”

• “I’ll be Michael Phelps”

• “Don’t you just hate it when Nolan steps on your 69 Barbie head”

• “He’s so 20”

• “LITTLE BOY! WHERE ARE YOUR NIPPLES”

• “You guys disgust me”

• “I thought I had a good nights sleep but then I stood up and was like ‘oh no’”

• “you look better as an apple”

• “Why the fuck does it smell like weed in here. Mrs. Burch be blazing it up”

• “What is the coast of South Carolina growing” “Fish”

• “Why are we here on Halloween but not on Thanksgiving”

• “Even though I’m 18 I still might go trick or treating”

• “All minors should be allowed to trick or treat”

• “Tomorrow is not today, is it?”

• “ah yes, the glorious uno and dos”

• “I think Kanye is a crackhead”

• “Like. She’s not hideous”

• “Casserole and Gatorade?”

• “That’s what Google’s for girly”

• “this class has corrupted me”

• “You stepped on my fat”

• “What would Jesus do?”

• *Squeaks kazoo in anguish*

• “We’re going to watch a video about the depression” “weird, nobody has been following me around with cameras”

• “Approximately 50 minutes till ice cream”

• “Did you know heroin is not good for you?”

• “I have the constant need to fight myself and my demons”

• “what the hell?” “I know”

• “you are crack-a-lakin me up”

• “I have no muscles so what’s the point”

• “Flex on the legless”

• “didn’t that movie come out in November? Fifty shades of green?”

• *County music blares from another class down the hall*

• “I got a twin brother” “What’s his name” “Pj”

• “Keep the iPhone in your ear”

• “Super white red lipstick”

• “They just need a lot more dollars”

• “Don’t be like Anthony” “Isn’t he your son”

• “There’s a lot that needs to happen in the next.... today”

• *Plays bagpipe music walking down the hallway*

• “Say sorry to Billie Eilish”

• “We should make army merch”

• “Some of us have bitch lips”

• “Time is moco loco”

• “Alfred Adler sounds like Adolf Hitler”

• “Albert Einstein is my favorite president” “YES”

• “It’s winter berries”

• “She just unfollowed your ass”

• “Do you ever get so mad you’re like rrrrr”

• “Bear Grills filtered that shit”

• “The US army is trying to recruit us with socks and bandannas”

• “This dude tastes bad”

• “I’m a sophisticated retard”

• “It’ll get your heart rate up” “I think asthma will make my heart rate go down”

• “She was like egh and the he was like EGH”

• *Door won’t open* “DISRESPECTFUL”

• “if she wasn’t my sister she would be my baby”

• “Will you let me make love to an Oreo”

• “Directions turn me on”

• “I’ll eat you” “Dude that’s gay”

• “you’ve been had a 69 in here”

• “I’m gonna be real with you. Hayden is a whole ass lesbian”

• “I’m sorry that picture is ugly. Sorry sis”

• “A whole jump suit with pikachu on it”

• “He’s been birthed”

• “Ru Paul’s drag race has been dragged”

• “Imma sip some chlorine”

• “why do you gotta throw up”

• “suicidal dog collar”

• “I’m pulling out Murphy’s head ass”

• “you’re gonna be single forever”

• “Do you trust me?” “No” “why” “you know why” “I told the truth after”

• “I didn’t mean to make her suicidal”

• “I did it in the most respectful way I possible could” “oh Jesus”

• “it’s not my fault she had that much of a connection”

• “she’s a sly bitch”

• *dresses in a Thomas the train hat and plays Thomas the train theme song on a piano*

• “I’m getting better at this” “what” “this”

• “It’s just my master plan to manipulate people’s emotions and have many successes in my future”

• “How do you do that” “I just empty my eyes”

• “You know what. Give me my birthday back”

• “Bitch bye. Not even cousins”

• “they go away. They don’t putt putt”

• “why” “so you don’t die in a police chase”

• “are you a virgin” “yes” *throws paper* “there’s my virginity for you”

• “I’m not stupid. I’m just not smart”

• *tries to hit someone with a decapitated mannequin head that has swim goggles on and fake blood coming out of its eyes*

• “you ignant”

• “I hope she chokes”

• “I had to sit at the edge of my chair, feet flat on the floor and hold my horn”

• “I don’t want to get my freaking hair done”

• “he hates my moms guts” “yeah no shit”

• “ok. Can you go cry over there”

• “Fuckin Jurassic world”

• “will you please beat up my mom”

• *drops phone purposefully* *immediately gets scared*

• “I want a new mom” “then break her”

• “did you just say what’s frog juice”

• *freshman walk by* “oh shit there’s a parade of them”

• “that five year old king is a queen”

• “Join the ranks”

• “Garrett’s carressing the computer” “cool”

• “You’re going into my dragons mouth”

• “Don’t snap my crab”

• “Crab breaking black belt”

• “are you milking the crab”

• “Cameron buttered my lemons”

• “Mixed with god”

• “What’s the juice”

• “I’m your bestie and you won’t even tell me the juice”

• “Let’s amazon.com this”

[princessvalperez]

Solo One

-𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚: August 15th, 2017

-𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Abuse, violence, drugs.

-𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜: Your Teeth In My Neck By Kali Uchis

𝘽𝙖𝙗𝙮, 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙣𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡?

𝙄𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙖 𝙜𝙖𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚?

𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪?

𝙊𝙝 𝙤𝙝 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪?

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙉𝙤 𝙤𝙝,

𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙞𝙩 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙤𝙝 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧

Sainty..." The smooth Spanish accent rang loud and clear as the slender figure of Valentina Perez wandered the halls. It was currently 2 am, on a hot summer night. Val knew it was August, the month of her birthday. But, exact dates were hard to keep track of here. It was like Casa Rosado, the name given to her boyfriend and his partner’s mansion, was in a time warp. She often found herself losing track of what day it was if she didn't check her phone or watch the news.

Those were two things she tended to avoid. The nasty headlines about the "drug addict Princessa" were hurtful. Some people in the media knew the truth, they knew Valentina was stuck with her boyfriend. She wasn't selfish or crazy like they made her out to be, that version of her came later. But, corrupt politics were big in this city. Her beautiful city of Lima was being run by the drug business. Peru had recently been influenced by neighboring countries and was quickly becoming a hotspot. The drug money kept wealth in the country, specifically the capital. It wasn't her parents who ran their kingdom, it was the drug lords who supplied money to the towns and the schools and the hospitals. So, Valentina's family was being blackmailed. No, she wasn't taken hostage but rather stuck due to loyalty to protect her family and a sick love she had for her abuser.

Santiago, or Saint, ran Lima and the people in it. He belonged to one of the biggest drug rings in all of Peru. He had an incredible amount of power and the government turned a blind eye to his group with the use of bribes and threats. He was years older than the currently seventeen-year-old girl and had the ability to manipulate and use her. He had fully convinced the naive young princess that he owned her and for now, she accepted it. They were three years in and she was too paralyzed by fear to leave and blinded by what she thought was love. Val had the ability to just walk away but, so much was at stake.

“Mi flor, why are you awake?" The deep voice of the man asked. Val had ended up in the basement, where Saint was currently sitting at a table, cutting cocaine. The designer drug ran this country and it was how Saint and his partners stayed in power. His words like a sweet melody to her as she sauntered over to his side. He had a special way of doing that, changing personalities instantly. Just a few hours ago he was screaming at her about how worthless she was and now, his arms were wide open for the Latin girl. He was a con artist, a psychopath and a master manipulator all in one.

"Couldn't sleep.," Val mumbled tiredly, taking a seat in his lap as she tugged down the big t-shirt she wore. It was one of the rare moments the drug house was silent. It was just them and the few security he kept scattered around at all times, everyone else had gone out of the night, all of the associates and their young "girlfriends". Val and Saint, in the middle of an argument, decided to stay home. Usually, the mountainside fortress was full of people, including young girls forced into this life, similar to but worse than her own situation. The women were kept around for company and relationships but, mainly for the sex, drug preparation and drug-delivering in and out of the country. The Peruvian government still hadn't caught onto how severe the drug problem was getting, it was only known in the capital. So, young females traveling in and out of the country for "vacations" wasn't suspicious.

Gently, not to mess up his concentration, the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face into his chest. "Have a bump.," Saint commanded, nudging her chin up gently as he brushed long dark strands of hair from her brown orbs. Val complied, it was the only drug she partook in but, Saint had her basically addicted. With a rolled-up $100 bill, Val took a line and then Saint proceeded to do a few. With her head tilted back the young princess paused for a moment and then went back to silently watching him work.

“So, um, Elio texted me again. He wants me to come to visit the palace for a few days on my birthday.." The submissive girl began, nervously nibbling at her bottom lip as she helped package the white powder. Saint didn't speak, her just continued to work but, his face began to harden. Val knew what was coming if she continued to push him but, she wanted to see her twin brother, she wanted to see her family after two months of living here. "We're only half an hour away from the palace. You could come or if you're busy one of the girls could come with me. I would take one of your drivers and you would know what I was doing at all times and.." Her nervous rambling was cut off by the sharp tone of the older male.

"Aye, ¡Cállate! Valentina. I can't hear myself think." The male dropped what he was doing and abruptly stood up from the chair. His expression hardened as he towered over the sitting girl. "You asked me earlier and I said no. Why would I change my mind? No, means no." The petite girl frowned, biting down on her bottom lip a bit harder. Usually, she would just nod and comply. Saint was incredibly overprotective and at times delusional. He suffered from bipolar disorder. Combine that with drugs and the paranoia of the illegal business he ran and you got the unstable person he was. Today, however, Val fought back. She was growing tired of it, of always being obedient and Saint was noticing the fire burning behind her usually calm brown orbs.

“I’m going.” She stated calmly, glaring at the male as she stood and began to walk away. “I’ll have El pick me up tomorrow and I’ll be back by Sunday.”

“Walk away and see what happens, I dare you—“ he growled, watching in silent fury as she paused, flicked him off and proceeded to continue to the stairs. It was something she had never done. Val was calm in nature and sweet. But, he was drawing the hot-blooded Latina out of her.

“You ungrateful bitch!” He roared out, running after the teenager. With a yelp of fear, she began to run up the steps, staggering along the way but almost reaching the top. She was no match for the older man. He easily caught up to the princess, grabbed her arm and threw the girl down. Val caught herself before she could tumble down the steps. Screams of anger and fear intermixing as she tried to escape him.

No one would come to help her. No one would rescue her— this was Valentina’s reality. Swiftly he cornered the princess, grabbed her head roughly and slammed it against the drywall. Instantly, she crumbled, whimpers of pain coming from the young girl as she clutched the back of her head, liquid coating her hair.

“I told you no..” Saint spoke calmly again, crouching down where his girlfriend laid, crumpled up in a ball as she blinked off the double vision and dizziness. “Next time, don’t disobey me, mi flor. I hate having to do that.” He finished, pressing his lips to her forehead.

With all the hate and anger she could manage Val drew her hand back and punched him right in the nose. It was something she had never done in all of her seventeen years. It didn’t phase him much but, the man did stumble back a bit, eyes wide with shock.

“Little brat, don’t make me do it again. Get up, I’ll call someone to come tend to..that.” He motioned to her bloody hand, glaring at the girl before leaving.

“I’m not your fucking flower.”

[namjuicyy]

Three’s A Crowd - Chapter Two

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut.

Genre of this part: Fluff.

Word Count: 2.7k.

Summary: Your childhood friend shows you a whole new world, but no one expected what came afterwards.

Warnings: None.

The plane journey was longer than you expected – much longer. The anticipation in your tummy was far too much for you to bear, and by thirty minutes of being in the sky, you were already too impatient to sit and enjoy anything you brought with you, movies and music included. You just wanted to be there already, in Korea with Jimin. Though, you managed to calm yourself down enough to at least sleep for a couple of hours before you land.

The double doors opened in Incheon to reveal hordes of Korean people standing there waiting for their loved ones to get through security and finally into their arms. One of those people was Jimin.

You'd seen Jimin a lot, of course. All the video chats in random places and dance videos he'd sent you meant that seeing him today shouldn't be as much of a surprise to you as it was. Yet, when you locked eyes on him, you couldn't help but feel he was different from your expectations. Yes, he was a dancer, and he was supposed to be fit, but you didn't realise just how fit until you saw his arms in his tank. He was 14, but looked so much older. His thighs were huge, yet his cheeks were still the same chubby ones that drew you to him when his fact file landed on your desk. And his hug was strong and crushing – exactly how you liked them.

"It's you!" Jimin screamed excitedly. He pushed his elders out of the way in his excitement just so he could wrap you up in his arms and hold you.

"It's me!" You laughed at him, despite your difficulty breathing.

He pushed you away, holding you at arm's length. "You're here. In Korea!"

"I'm in Korea." You repeated, a smile on your face just as bright as his.

He sighed and pulled you back into another bone-crushing hug. "I'm so glad you finally see you in person! You're much squishier than I thought you'd be." You raised your eyebrows. "I love it. It's like hugging a marshmallow."

"Thanks, I think. You're much firmer than I thought." You confessed.

Jimin laughed. "Okay, I deserved that."

"That wasn't an insult. I-"

He grabbed your hand and began to drag you outside. "Come on, my parents are waiting for us so we can take the train back to mine. We didn't bring the car because trying to drive in Seoul is honestly not worth it. I suppose it's like where you live, the capital is always packed out like-"

Jimin kept babbling as you left the airport, hands still linked. It was hard to dodge all the people walking towards you, each one appearing to be in some kind of hurry. Jimin remained unphased, yapping on about something or other. You were only brought back to earth from your distraction when you heard him shout. "Eomma! Appa!" His voice lowered. "There they are. What are they doing all the way over there? The train station is that way. Oh well."

You approached his parents, both of them ending their conversation abruptly when they saw you. Their smiles were just as bright as Jimin's. You'd always heard that children were the mirrors of their parents, you didn't realise that this meant physical attributes too. You'd met his parents digitally a few times before, so you weren't too worried about that. They were wonderful people, truly kind and sweet, and had raised their sons well. You'd even met his younger brother, Jihyun once or twice when he jumped in on conversations he wasn't supposed to. But, despite his annoyance, Jimin still allowed his brother to join in, refusing to push him away, even if he wanted to bitch about him to you.

"Park Pilwoo-ssi, Park Mijeong-ssi," you began, "it's so nice to finally meet you properly. Thank you for inviting me." As you'd been taught to, you bowed to them – this earned a bellowing laugh from Jimin.

Mijeong slapped her son gently on the back of the head. "Hey, she's more polite than you!" She scolded playfully. "You could learn a thing or two from her."

Pilwoo shook your hand. "Ignore him, he's a pest when he wants to be."

"Don't I know it." You joked.

Jimin feigned offense. "H

Mijeong laughed. "Oh you'll fit in well here."

"Jiminie, take ___-ah's bag!" Pilwoo instructed. "Did we teach you nothing about respect?"

"Oh, yeah!" Jimin said. He was almost in a trance and Pilwoo's instructions were what brought him out of it. "Of course." Before you had the chance to protest, Jimin took your suitcase out of your hand, and with his other one, grabbed hold of yours. The four of you made your way towards the train station, his parents asking you all about yourself and vice versa.

The train ride was three hours long, and the time was spent talking to his parents and occasionally laughing at them making fun of their eldest. But there was never anything malicious in the things that they were saying to him. For every thing they made fun of him for, they proclaimed at least two things that they loved about him.

Jimin lived in a small town called Geumjeong, located somewhere in Busan. It was a lovely little place, completely surrounded by mountains. Though, it was incredibly hilly. Going down was fine, fun even. Coming back up, on the other hand, not so much. It shocked you how different Geumjeong looked to your hometown. You found it difficult to tell apart the residential areas and the recreational areas, given that there were no traditional (to you) houses around. For the most part it was apartment living, with the odd house dotted around.

Jimin's home was a house, not an apartment. It was a multi-story house, yet still surprisingly small. There was no back garden, only a small front garden that really only fit the path from the gate and a mailbox. He lived smack-bang in the centre of a hill, surrounded by shops and apartments. It wasn't much, as Jimin put it, but it was the home he was raised in and he wouldn't change it for the world.

You recognised so much in his home from the videos and pictures he'd sent you. His living space, that was constantly messy from the lack of space, his kitchen that was spotlessly clean constantly down to his mother and her constant nagging. Jimin's bedroom was also exactly how you last saw it, neat and moderately bright. His curtains were shut, forcing him to turn on the ceiling light when he dragged your suitcase inside. You couldn't help but laugh at him as he did that. If he opened the curtains, he wouldn't need the overhead light on. "Eomma said we have to share my room while you're here." Jimin stated, throwing your suitcase on his bed. "Is that okay?" You simply nodded, words seeming pointless. "I've moved some of my clothes so you have some cupboard and drawer space while you're here. The top two are yours and one of the racks in the wardrobe is yours just in case you need them." He sat down and continued to talk to you while he watched you unpack, fill his drawers with all of your things.

You had a traditional Korean feast that night, with Jihyun joining you all after school. Jihyun wouldn't leave you alone all night, though, asking you lots of questions and Jimin rolling his eyes after each one. He'd mouth that he was sorry to you on numerous occasions, but his adorable 12-year-old brother wasn't causing you any harm. In fact, you liked how curious he was, and how welcomed he and his parents had made you feel.

Despite being in your early teens, Jimin's parents had set a strict bedtime for the three of you, and at 10pm you and Jimin were in your pyjamas and lying on your backs in his bed staring up at the ceiling. You'd think the silence would be awkward, but it wasn't.

"___-ah?" Jimin began.

"Chim-Chim?" You responded, mimicking his tone.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Were you nervous about meeting me?"

You thought for a moment. "Yeah. Were you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I was just scared that we might run out of things to talk about. And scared of disappointing you."

You turned to face Jimin, who was still staring at the ceiling. "Disappointing me? Chim-Chim, what makes you think you'd disappoint me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It was just a worry I had. Maybe I wasn't what you expected, or we wouldn't click. Like," he turned to face you this time, "you hear it all the time, people meeting finally and they don't click. I was worried that we wouldn't click, and that it would be my fault for being too nervous."

"Well, we did click. And you could never disappoint me."

There was a knock at Jimin's door, and it opened almost immediately after the knock. Mijeong's voice sounded from behind the wood. "Come on, you two. Go to sleep."

"Sorry, Eomma." Jimin called.

When you were sure his mother had gone, you both giggled quietly at the fact that you'd been caught. You continued to talk, making sure your voices were at a whisper so you wouldn't be caught again. That was until Jimin had fallen asleep accidentally. You knew he'd feel bad about it in the morning, but for now you decided to join him.

When you woke up the next morning, Jimin had somehow managed to wrap his entire body around you, clinging to you like a koala clinging to its tree. You found it difficult to breathe, and even more difficult to push him off you as all his strength had somehow managed to lock himself onto your body. Eventually, you got him off you, and began to get yourself ready for the day ahead. Jimin, on the other hand, remained in his bed for quite a large portion of the morning. It wasn't until Mijeong got sick of you sat around reading your book in the living room she decided to do something about it.

Jimin came trudging down the stairs moments later, his face puffy and his eyes still closed from sleep. "Morning." He said. His voice was huskier than usual, and a little deeper. His hair was in a complete state and his body didn't seem to want to cooperate with him.

"What are you planning for today, Jimin?" Mijeong asked following him down the stairs.

Jimin shrugged his shoulders and began tucking into a piece of toast – a breakfast he discovered after all those years of having breakfast-dinner dates with you.

Mijeong shook her head at her eldest son, rolling her eyes at his flippancy. He'd known you for seven years, yet the way he was acting it was as if you were living with him, and had been for quite some time. "Why don't you take her hiking?" Mijeong suggested. Jimin looked up at his mother, flashing her a look that told her how ridiculous she sounded. "Well, you can't just mope around the house, Jimin. You have to do something."

"Wanna go to the cinema?" Jimin asked you.

"Sure."

The movie was... adequate. The meal afterwards however, was more than wonderful. Jimin took you out for your very first Korean Barbecue experience, courtesy of his father's credit card. Was Pilwoo aware that his son had his entire bank account in his back pocket? Probably not. But you couldn't deny how sweet it was of Jimin to insist that your meal was on the Parks.

You spent five weeks in Korea with Jimin, learning about him and his family and getting to know them much deeper. By the time you left, you were part of the furniture – an adopted daughter – an honorary Park. His family loved you, and you loved them just as much.

Your last night wasn't anything like you thought it would be. You'd gone to bed with Jimin as usual, but neither of you could sleep. He was upset that you were leaving and, if you were being honest, you were too.

"___?" You heard from beside you in the darkness.

"Chim-Chim?"

"Get dressed."

"What?"

"Get dressed." He got out of bed. "There's somewhere I want to take you before you go."

You did as he instructed, the two of you silently and slowly dressing in opposite corners of the pitch black room. Pilwoo, according to Jimin, was still awake downstairs and was watching the television. So leaving through the front door was definitely not an option. You watched as Jimin opened his bedroom window and clambered out of it, despite his dancer's background, he wasn't very graceful. He landed on the roof just underneath his window, and beckoned you to do the same. And, with a lot of whispered instructions from him, you'd both climbed your way off the roof and onto the hard ground, running from his house in the middle of the night and laughing as you'd both successfully snuck out of his house.

He took you up one of the hills nearest his house, and only stopped to settle down right at the top. "Here we are." He said, gesturing to the view in front of him. And what a view it was. There, in front of you, was the nightscape of Geumjeong, all lit up as if the district was still awake despite the early hours of the morning. You could see the outline of the skyscrapers lighting the paths for the night-owls strolling the streets before the sun came up. Yet, despite the obvious hustle and bustle of the nightlife, it was so, incredibly peaceful up this hill. All you could hear was the sound of the wind playing with the trees around you – and Jimin's heavy breathing.

"I come here a lot when things get tough." Jimin confessed. "When you're asleep and I don't want to wake you up. Or even if I want to text you, I'll come up here for a bit of peace and quiet."

"It's beautiful, Chim-Chim." You replied honestly.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend, ___. I mean it. You're so lovely and understanding, and you brighten my day a lot of the time. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you."

"I feel the same way."

Jimin smiled. "I wish this would be a regular thing."

"What?"

"You spending your summers in Korea with me."

"Me too. I've loved it. Thank you for having me."

"Thank you for being my friend."

He sat there and held your hand, allowing a peaceful silence to fall between you two. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand softly, as he did sometimes when you were falling asleep.

You woke up the next morning leaning on Jimin's shoulder. The sun was coming up and you were a little too cold for your liking, but that's what happens when you both fall asleep on the top of a hill. Your phone had died, so you checked your watch to find out it was 6am. You were due to leave for the airport in an hour. In a panic, you woke up Jimin, and the two of you ran back to his house, and climbed back into his bedroom through the window, only to find his mother sat on the bed waiting for the two of you to arrive.

Jimin got into so much trouble for sneaking out and dragging you along with him. But the heart to heart you both had while looking at Geumjeong was worth it – you both said so.

Tears were shed when you arrived back at Incheon, and bade goodbye to your family. Mijeong was crying, and Jimin was sniffling quite a bit. He gave you a tight hug and refused to let you go. His father quite literally had to drag him off you so you could run and catch your flight. And, standing at the security desks, you turned and blew Jimin a kiss before you disappeared into the main area of the airport.

[storytaeme]

celebration – vmin

Doctors had always been his enemy, however, for the sake of the Christmas champagne, he would get his teeth fixed up by the cutest dentist. 

vmin week 2017 – taehyung x jimin

❧ Elements: Fluff  |  Dentist AU, Christmas Party AU

❧ Word Count: 5,353 words

❧ A/N: Merry Christmas, you guys!! I procrastinated again and hence this was finished off again in a little over 2 hours. It was fun to write so I hope you can enjoy it :^D (forgive typos my eyes r blurry rn)

Taehyung didn’t like doctors very much. As a kid, he had shied away from anyone who even resembled the authoritative figure. It wasn’t as if he had some traumatizing experience getting stabbed with a needle in the wrong part of his body—no. Doctors were generally just intimidating with their lab coats and strong frowns. They tried to play nice when he was younger, smiled and offered him a lollipop. But as he grew older, the fear towards them only amplified. They were less nice too—he never got candy anymore.

Whenever he could, he would just get his own medicine and treat his own wounds and sicknesses, avoiding the doctor as much as he could. However, there came a time in every adult’s life when they must face their fear for the good of their lives and the world itself.

The time for Taehyung was upon him.

It happened sometime close to Christmas. It was the first week of December and someone from the office, Seokjin, had brought homemade fruitcake for everyone in the building to nibble on. Seokjin was commonly known as the chef of the crew. He was an expert in all sorts of goodies and treats, which made everyone wonder why he went corporate instead of opening his own bakeshop. So fruitcakes were never a huge Thing with anyone, but the man had his way of making it so that everyone could enjoy it. It was delicious and Taehyung looked forward to it every year.

Unfortunately for him that year, things took a turn for the worse. It was in the first bite that Taehyung found himself in pure agony. He had released a yelp which caught the attention of the baker himself who hurried over in worry. “Oh my God, are you okay? Did you bite something hard?”

Taehyung winced and swallowed the treat. It went down smoothly so surely there was nothing in the cake that was the problem. However, his cheek was throbbing painfully and he could feel it swelling grossly. “Ugh,” he groaned, “this hurts, what the fuck?”

“Ha,” Jeongguk, an intern who had the guts of a senior member, snorted, “you must have a hole in your tooth or something. That’s what you get for not flossing.” This was probably his karma for making fun of Jeongguk for flossing after every meal. It wasn’t his fault—flossing was just such a tedious task, he didn’t know why anyone did it after every meal.

“Fuck off, Jeon,” he snapped, the pain biting at his cheek once again. This was such a bitch to deal with, especially during Christmas when everyone was in the gift-giving mood which meant that there was always something good to eat in the office—free of charge. He loved Christmas and all of its capitalism glory.  

Seokjin’s brows furrowed in concern. “He might be right, Taehyung-ah, when was the last time you went to the dentist?”

Answer: ninth grade when he needed to take his braces off.

Like he said, doctors scared him, but dentists were the worst. How anyone could just dig into someone’s mouth like that, drill holes into their teeth, and stick on pieces of metal that would magically right the structuring of his teeth was beyond him. If Taehyung limited his visits to his general practitioner, he downright avoided his dentist religiously. The guy was hell to deal with, was merciless when it came to numbing to pain (read: he never fucking numbed Taehyung to the pain). He needed to find a new one but had managed long enough to avoid the task for a double win situation in which he could eschew yet another doctor, as well as the actual dentist hunting job.

“Dunno, been a while,” he lied through his teeth which was still stinging.

“You should go, definitely go before Namjoon’s party.”

Namjoon was another of their coworker but was a close friend in their tight knit group. He held his annual Christmas party at his huge penthouse that his parents had gotten for him after graduation and always celebrated with a ton of booze and great snacks. It was a dream come true for an office worker like Taehyung who worked a low position that paid bordering on minimum wage. Plus, the guy always had the best champagne in the house that left Taehyung buzzing and giggly for the night.

“I hate my dentist, hyung,” Taehyung whined.

“Kim Taehyung,” Seokjin scolded as Jeongguk snickered, “you are a grown man, you are 27—”

“Excuse you, I am 28.”

“Even worse!” he huffed, throwing his hands in the air, “you should definitely get that checked up. I know a good friend of mine who just picked up a job nearby. He’s pretty reliable and was top of his class so he can take good care of you.”

Taehyung was about to spit out another whine about the evil of dentists but Seokjin only shoved a namecard in his direction. He took it gratefully and stared at it, hoping that his glare would burn holes right through it so he would avoid going to it. Alas, fate was not with him, and he didn’t have laser beams for eyes. In addition to that, he really, really wanted to enjoy that good ass champagne in Namjoon’s house.

Thus, some sacrifices must be made. Taehyung made his way to the dentist right after work.

“Did you go, Kim Taehyung?” Seokjin pressed, slamming his hand on his desk. It was break time and Seokjin had stalked his way over to his desk to interrogate him.

“Yeah, I’m a-okay, hyung,” he grinned.

Seokjin narrowed his eyes suspiciously before pulling out a cold bottle of water. The sight of it had his stomach sinking. “Drink this.”

“Hyung—”

“Do it.”

Fuck, he was fucked. He brought the mouth of the bottle to his lips and thought, hey, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Taehyung has learned that he was wrong about a lot of things in life—this was only another to add onto his list.

The pain was excruciating, traveling all the way from the ache in his teeth to a muddy fizzling in his brain. He let out a yelp as he banged his head against his desk to alleviate some of the pain with another. “Fucking shit, motherfucking holy shit,” Taehyung let out expletive after expletive as he continued to ram his forehead into his table.

“Serves you right,” Seokjin laughed, “I told you to go. Why didn’t you?”

“It’s scary, hyung,” Taehyung pouted, hoping that his cutesy act would work.

But his friend always had a better act, so it wasn’t surprising that it didn’t work on him. “Nice try, buddy. I’m calling my friend right now to book you and appointment and, if you don’t go, I will know and you will suffer my wrath. Understood?” Taehyung stuck out his bottom lip further. “I said, understood?”

“Yes, hyung,” he said, defeated.

That was how he ended up standing in front of the dentist office. That tooth sign above the building with the smiley face on it was taunting him, mocking him for being too chicken shit to even go into the place. He sucked up a huge breath before walking inside. There were so many people. It was terrifying.

Taehyung was about to walk outside when the nurse stopped him. “Kim Taehyung?”

Holy shit, how did they know his name? They were part of the mafia, weren’t they? He fucking knew there was something off about doctors. They all probably conspired for world domination. “Um, yes,” he squeaked.

“Welcome!” she grinned, “I’ve been instructed by one of our doctors to intercept you should you attempt to leave.”

What the fuck? “Who’s the doctor?”

“Dr. Park, he said that his friend called in to make sure you arrived. Since you’re already here, why don’t you take a seat? He’s finishing up with a patient and should be with you momentarily.”

Taehyung had his hands tied. It wasn’t as if he could run when the nurse kept a hawk’s eye on him, smiling at him every once in a while almost threateningly. It was as if she was warning him that she had a close watch on him. His knee kept bouncing the entire time. The clock was ticking aloud on the wall, reminding him of the passing seconds that came closer to his death. When his name was finally called, Taehyung let out a yelp and jumped to his teeth. That earned him a few chuckles from the other patients. Har de har, good to know his pain was bringing them some form of amusement.

“Follow me, Mr. Kim,” the nurse smiled sweetly and led him down another hallway towards one of the rooms.

Dr. Park Jimin

Holy shit. He was going to die. The nurse announced his arrival and he heard a deeper, more masculine voice respond from the other side. When he finally stepped in, really, the last thing he was expecting was a cherubic looking man who had a crinkly-eyed smile greeting him. He looked almost like an angel. To say he was beautiful would be an understatement. “Um, hi,” Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Taehyung right? Seokjin-hyung called earlier,” Jimin nodded. Taehyung wondered if Seokjin had exposed his fear of doctors despite being in his late twenties. “I heard you had a difficult time coming here so I appreciate you making the effort.” Yep, he definitely told him.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a situation,” he chuckled nervously.

“Don’t be so scared,” Jimin smiled politely and gestured to the seat, “please. Get yourself comfortable and I’ll be with you in a second. I’ll just do a quick checkup to see the problem and we can fill in the holes should you need. Does that sound good?”

Taehyung could only manage a nod before robotically making his way over to the seat. He settled back and shifted around to get his shoulders to stop tensing up. But every time Jimin made some noise behind him where he couldn’t see, all he could picture was all the ways he could escape the room.

When Jimin finally appeared before him, snapping his gloves into place (Taehyung gulped at that), Taehyung was practically shuddering in fear. It didn’t go by unnoticed by the man, of course. “Are you okay, Taehyung-ssi?”

“F-fine, just a little nervous.”

Jimin’s lips quirked up on the corners. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt one bit. If you experience pain at any point, please let me know. Some things may sting a little but it shouldn’t be intolerable.”

Taehyung agreed obediently and opened his mouth when Jimin gestured him to do so. As Jimin said, he explained the procedure very carefully and slowly to ensure Taehyung that he knew exactly what he was doing. Taehyung would be so embarrassed with how calmly the dentist was speaking to him as if he were coaxing a child to relax if he weren’t so terrified. However, as promised, Jimin did everything quick and painlessly. Sure, there was a bit of a zing here and there, but it was nothing he could not handle.

The nurses left soon after as Jimin finished up with one last check up. “Looks perfect,” he grinned, eyes disappearing again. The entire time Jimin was chipping away at his teeth, which is so unsexy by the way, Taehyung’s gaze focused solely on the man’s face. Up close, he was even more breathtaking. His blonde hair falling upon his eyes and his gaze zoned in on Taehyung so intensely that he felt his breath hiccup in his throat. His cheeks were soft and rosy, round enough like a dumpling that Taehyung wanted to bite him.

It was a peculiar and novel reaction to a doctor. Taehyung had never experienced it before.  

“You’re all set,” Jimin beamed, patting his shoulder thoughtfully once he’s removed his gloves. “Please rinse your mouth there and I’ll give you a flyer of tips on how to care for your teeth.”

Taehyung did as he was instructed but his eyes still followed Jimin around the room as he fiddled around with folders and tools. The doctor seemed aware of his attention and turned around, quirking an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face?”

“N-no, no,” he coughed, eyes widening, “sorry. You just look very young, nothing like what I expected.”

Jimin laughed, taking no offense in his words. “Why thank you. I am quite young for a practicing dentist. I graduated early from university and jumped on training after training to get to where I am faster. A bit of an overachiever as you can see.”

“Yeah, that’s cool. Ambition is great,” Taehyung praised honestly because he really was impressed by his dedication.

“How about you?” he tilted his head, “Seokjin-hyung said you worked with him at the office.”

“Yeah, HR. Pretty cool when you’re not dealing with assholes in the department,” Taehyung shrugged. His job was pretty boring, especially when all he could do was sit in a cubicle waiting for tasks to be handed over to him. Seokjin was the head so he worked under him and he was a fantastic supervisor, but Taehyung couldn’t help but want something more for himself.

The dentist smiled understandingly. “I get you. It’s always kind of scary when you settle, but also when you have shitty coworkers. The nurses here are wonderful but, don’t tell anyone, the head nurse scares the living shit out of me.”

Taehyung laughed genuinely at that, heart easing of his worries. “It’s always the heads, huh?”

“Though, I do love head,” Jimin said nonchalantly as he tucked documents under his arm.

He said it so casually that Taehyung almost missed it, but he gasped, lips parting in surprise. “Did you just drop a dirty line?”

Jimin smirked, “Did I?”

“You really are a pretty weird doctor,” Taehyung muttered under his breath.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he giggled and the sound had birds singing outside. He might even pass as a Disney princess if the company ever took ethereal human beings to represent royalty. “Anyway, here are some brochures for you to read up on. Make sure to keep your gums and teeth healthy, Taehyung-ssi, if you want to avoid another trip to the doctor.” Taehyung flushed at that, but knew Jimin only meant well. “Also,” he lifted up a small box, “complimentary floss from me so you can keep your teeth clean.”

Flossing, ugh. He nodded, accepting it gratefully. “Thanks, Dr. Park.”

“Please, we’re the same age, call me Jimin.

Taehyung blanched, “You’re the same age as me?”

“Hyung didn’t tell you?” Jimin looked amused then, “how odd. But yeah, we’re both born in ’95.”

Holy shit. Taehyung felt so in over his head. “Wow, what are the odds?”

“Pretty big actually,” Jimin grinned, “so yep, that’s all from me. Any other questions?”

Are you single? Can I have your number? Do you like dogs? Can I marry you? How are you not as scary as every other doctor I’ve had as a kid?

“Nope,” he answered simply, “thanks, Jimin. It’s been nice meeting you.”

“You too, Taehyung, I’ll see you around.”

Taehyung thought that it was kind of cute that he was already dropping honorifics, but chose not to peep a word about it. With one last bow, he made his way over to the door.

However, before he could make it very far, Jimin intercepted him to hand him a lollipop. “For your gallant efforts,” he grinned, no malice or mocking whatsoever in his voice.

Taehyung might just be in love.

—

Namjoon’s penthouse was perhaps the most luxurious place Taehyung had ever set foot upon. While his apartment was a little on the smaller side, Namjoon had a generous amount of space to host his guests. The guy wasn’t a snob at all either, always so kind with his wealth and so philanthropic. Husband material, some might say.

When he arrived, dressed in a crisp salmon shirt, top button popped open, and his favorite jeans that made his ass looked fucking fantastic, Namjoon was the one to greet him. “Taehyung! You made it! How’s your teeth?”

Namjoon also was dating Seokjin so that meant that he was privy to every single bit of information that Seokjin knew—including the suffering of his colleagues and employees. “Perfect,” he grinned for added measure, flashing his perfect set of teeth.

“Great, ‘cause I’ve got that champagne you like.”

Taehyung breathed in, cupping the man’s face. “I think I love you.”

Namjoon only laughed and ushered him in, “You have to compete with Seokjin then for my affections. Food is out on the table, you know where everything is, don’t break anything, have fun.” With those last tidbits of advice, the elder was whisked away to tend to his other guests, namely Hoseok who was on the verge of toppling over Namjoon’s bookcase.

Taehyung mingled with a few coworkers he recognized. They ran in similar social circles so their friends overlapped, allowing the younger to interact with a lot of the people there. He was a bit of a social butterfly, if he had to admit. He didn’t really have a hard time communicating with others and initiating talks that could have them droning on and on for hours—he wasn’t sure whether it was a gift or a curse.

He stuffed his face stupid with food and too many flutes of that delicious champagne. His eyes scanned the crowd, most of the faces identified as familiar in his brain directory. However, only one individual stood out amongst the rest and he was standing in a far corner, quietly nursing his drink.

“Hey, Jimin right?” Taehyung grinned.

“Yeah, oh, Taehyung!” he snapped his fingers, seeming accomplished that he could recall his former patient’s name. “How are you doing? How’s your teeth?”

That’s the second time he’s been asked tonight, third if you included Jeongguk making fun of him for being scared of the dentist. He had gotten an ass whooping for that alone. “Teeth is great, pearly white and clean,” he widened his smile to show to his doctor that he had indeed taken his advice. Except for the flossing, he was going to make a ban on that.

“That’s great to hear,” Jimin looked relieved, “I hope there was no more pain afterwards.”

“I’ve been gorging down cake like there’s no tomorrow and a shit ton of this,” he lifted up his glass, “it’s great. I love having nice teeth again so I can stuff my face stupid. Have you eaten yet?”

Jimin brightened at that, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, hyung is a great cook, I still can’t believe he prepared everything for tonight. If I could husband that man, I would.”

“You take him, I’ll take Namjoon-hyung. It’ll be the perfect cockblocking plan.”

The other boy tinkled with laughter adorably, the sound ringing sweetly in his ears. Taehyung found himself seeking for jokes and material in his mind to elicit the same sounds from him. They ended up chatting amicably, picking up more champagne and snacks to fill their bellies. Somewhere halfway through the night, the two settled down on the couch. Taehyung leaning close to tell his stories, albeit a little drunkenly. Jimin leaning even closer to listen in and share his adorable reactions. They bumped foreheads every once in a while when they got too close, then proceeded to laugh at how ridiculous that was.

“You guys look comfy,” Seokjin showed up sometime afterwards, grinning from ear to ear. “Who knew that Taehyung would get over his fear of doctors by attempting to hook up with one?”

Jimin flushed prettily at that, his cheeks reddening to tomatoes and his ears heating up a fiery pink. Taehyung only scoffed, “Way to ruin my chances, hyung. I could’ve had a win-win there—get rid of my stupid phobia and nail a cute man. You’ve foiled it all.”

“My apologies,” Seokjin hummed, “but not really. You guys are grossly cute. I think I saw Jeongguk pop a boner just by watching the two of you.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, “Jeongguk is an infant who gets his dick hard from seeing a good pastry. Don’t even deny it, I’ve seen it happen when you brought your homemade hazelnut croissants to work.” Then he directed his attention to Jimin, “Jeongguk is this brat in our division. Big muscles, scary eyebrows, but he is a baby. Our baby.”

Jimin chuckled again at that, patting Taehyung’s thigh comfortingly. “I think I’ve seen him around. Though, what’s cuter is probably your fear of doctors. I had no idea you had that.”

Seokjin snorted, shaking his head. “You should’ve seen him, he tried to lie about going to the dentist that I had to call you up,” he sighed, offering Taehyung his own condolences.

Heaven help him. Taehyung was about to offer his own condolences to his chances with Park Jimin. The man, he learned, was brilliant and beautiful at the same time. Also he had the brawns what with his toned body and gym addiction. He was the ultimate triple threat, the ultimate boyfriend material.

“Why are you still here?” Taehyung jutted out his bottom lip.

“Okay, okay, I know when I’m not wanted, you ass,” Seokjin hissed, getting to his feet. “Have fun, kids, don’t forget to use protection.”

When he finally walked away, Taehyung let out a frustrated huff. He really did need better friends who wouldn’t fuck up his chances with every cute guy he tried to chat up. It’s happened too many times before, especially when Jeongguk got a little too drunk during their one department outing to a club and he had draped himself all over Taehyung that he missed out on the chance of getting that sugar daddy.

Though, he supposed fate worked in funny ways. If he had a sugar daddy, he might not have been so keen to seek out Park Jimin this way, and that would’ve been the biggest regret of his life. The two of them had good chemistry that neither of them could deny. Even after only one interaction and that lengthy conversation, Taehyung felt as if he had found a new best friend in this man.

“So was it true?” Jimin asked then, turning his head cutely. God, Taehyung wanted to kiss his plump lips and maybe suck in that bottom lip and bite it.

“What? My fear of doctors?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow and Jimin’s lips tightened and nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know. They freak me out. I’ve always been kind of terrified of them, not sure why. They’re kind of scary, you have to admit. Lab coats and that intimidating glare.”

Jimin giggled again, running his hand up Taehyung’s arm. “Do you think I’m intimidating?”

“No, you’re just… really cute. Like really, really cute,” Taehyung frowned, wondering if he was satisfied with that answer. Jimin was far from frightening, the guy practically existed like an angel.

“Hm, really? That’s good to hear,” Jimin murmured thoughtfully. Before Taehyung realized, the man had already placed a warm palm on his thigh. His touch burned and Taehyung suddenly was hyperaware of how close they were. He could feel Jimin’s breath against his neck, against his cheek. His hand on his leg squeezing the flesh underneath as if to remind Taehyung that it was fucking there. The air in the room seemed to diffuse out completely, leaving him a little breathless. How had he not been aware of the tension that arose between the two of them until then?

Taehyung could only babble his agreement, taking another big gulp of his drink to get more liquid courage.

“So,” Jimin started, scooting even closer if that were possible. Their bodies were pressed together, leaving no room for Taehyung to breathe. Jimin tightened his hold around his thigh again, looking up from his pretty lashes at Taehyung. “Since you’re so scared, why don’t I give you private checkups? I can make sure that you’re fit and healthy.”

“P-private checkups?” His brain suddenly stopped working. How did one even comprehend sentences when Park Jimin was this close?

“Mhmm,” Jimin hummed, creeping his hand up higher. He was so close, so close to his crotch. Taehyung’s zipper might burst from the sheer tenacity of its desire to seek Jimin’s hand. “I can get my hands all over you, make sure you’re nice and comfy before I start checking your body. Make sure everything is functioning fine and that you’re still a healthy, growing boy.”

Taehyung wanted to say that he was no longer growing, but the thought of Jimin calling him a good boy, that he was a healthy boy, had his dick stirring in his pants. God, he could practically imagine Jimin in his coat, laying him back on the bed and exploring every inch of him. He would run his heated hands and act as if he was checking on Taehyung, fondling his nipples and pinching them. Then he would wander his hand down south, ghosting over the softness of his stomach before wrapping around his dick.

Taehyung wanted to cry just letting his imagination take over. He was perfectly aware that he was basically hyperventilating at that point with the thought of a sexy doctor roleplay with Park Jimin. All thoughts and fears of doctors seemed to fly out the window when it was Jimin handling him. He could most definitely roll with that.

This was going to be the death of him. RIP Kim Taehyung.

“Yeah,” Taehyung swallowed thickly, “I think I can work with that.”

Jimin grinned smugly, “That’s good. I can even do the private checkup in my house, lay you out on my comfortable bed to make sure you’re relaxed and ready for me. Do you want that?”

Yes, yes, fuck yes. Sign him the fuck up. He was going to book himself for this one-on-one session everyday for the next five years of his life. He was ready.

Instead he said, “Yep, yep, sounds great.” He was barely keeping it together. His chest was so tight with his lungs pushing out what was left of his breaths.

“Do you want me to check on you, baby?” Jimin tittered close to him, teeth catching the shell of his ear teasingly. Fuck. Taehyung jerked a little in his seat. The member between his legs was throbbing painfully, practically begging for a release. God, he could feel sweat collecting in the back of his neck and making his palms all clammy. He was reacting like a prepubescent boy, Christ, he needed to get laid soon. Preferably by this sexy dentist who probably knew just how to toy with his mouth, maybe fuck into it with his dick too.

Shit.

“Taehyung?” Jimin whispered.

“Hm?” His voice sounded strained, forced. He was on the cusp of a breakdown and an orgasm at the same time. This was torture.

“You wanna get out of here?” Jimin squeezed his thigh again. Bad move, very bad move. He wanted to come on the spot. “My place isn’t too far away and I drove so—”

He leapt to his feet, bouncing lightly as he offered a hand out to the other boy. “Yes, shit, fuck yes. Let’s go. I’m ready to bolt and have you fuck my ass or the other way around.”

Jimin’s lips parted in surprise, his eyes briefly glancing around the room to see if anyone had noticed them. Fortunately, everyone was busy with their own devices and conversations, far too distracted to notice the bubbling sexual tension between the two of them. That was, except for Seokjin. But Jimin shouldn’t mention it to Taehyung then because it might ruin the moment. So he took his hand and grinned up at him. “Let’s go, baby, I’ll make sure you feel all nice and cozy with me.”

It was safe to say that Taehyung went back to Jimin’s place and had the release of a lifetime. It was like magic had rained down fairy dust upon the world and righted all of its wrongs. His orgasms (yes, fucking plural) were mind-blowing and muscle-exploding. He couldn’t move an inch afterwards. His ass was thoroughly fucked out because, turns out, Jimin was pretty rough when it came to bed and Taehyung really, really wasn’t complaining. He had gotten a nice, satisfying fuck from a very, very pretty man who was lying down next to him in that moment.

Jimin looked beautiful awake, looked beautiful as he fucked into Taehyung from above and leaned down to capture his lips. But he also looked beautiful asleep, his expression smoothed out into one of absolute peacefulness and serenity. His shoulders were bare and so was the rest of him underneath the sheets.

Taehyung took his time drinking in the man’s glorious beauty and wondering how God could have gifted someone with all the powers in the world to rule it. Life really wasn’t fair. But for now, Taehyung could feel that at least his irrational fear of doctors had been somewhat cured but also  compensated by this lovely man across from him.

He scooted closer, draping his hand over Jimin’s waist and feeling the boy tuck himself into Taehyung’s chest. His heart felt like it was about to burst and it was strange to feel so much for someone he’s only known for a short period of time. It might just be the post-orgasm high, but he would take it for that moment. He had all the time in the world to figure it out after all.

With that, he allowed his eyes to close, eyelids fluttering shut, and fall into deep slumber, dreaming of a beautiful man who could fuck the living daylights out of him but shit sunshine out of his ass. It was a good night.

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin chided and the guilty man turned around to look at his boyfriend sheepishly. It was in their fourth month anniversary and Taehyung had taken him out to a good dessert place somewhere in between both their workplaces to sit back and relax. They had enjoyed their time there and managed to fill their bellies full of ice cream and cakes to their heart’s content and their stomach’s suffering.

“Yes, honey?”

Jimin narrowed his eyes sharply at him, flinging the tiny package in his direction. “Don’t honey me.”

“Jiminie—”

“Not that either.”

Taehyung pouted petulantly, “You’re being mean. And it’s our anniversary too.”

“It’s been four months, darling. When we’ve gotten past a year, then you can start breaking the rules. But for now, you live under my boyfriend umbrella so you have to follow what I tell you to do.”

In any other situation, Taehyung would find his being bossy a sexy trait. Jimin knew how to control himself in bed and knew even better how to control Taehyung just the way the both of them liked it. However, in that moment, all he wanted to do was throw a tantrum and toss that blasted thing into a flaming pit of fire.

“You’re mean,” Taehyung repeated like a child but popped open the lid again.

“Do you really want another hole in your teeth? I patched one up a month ago and you’re already pulling this shit again.”

“It sucks,” he whined, nuzzling his face into Jimin’s neck.

Jimin kept him at arm’s length and raised an eyebrow, “Don’t play with me, Tae. Do it.”

Releasing a sigh of surrender, Taehyung nodded solemnly and pulled it out. He cut off the floss with the cap and began to work at the gaps between his teeth, picking out everything he needed to keep it clean.

His boyfriend beamed proudly and cooed while pinching his cheek. “That’s my good boy. I’ll reward you good tonight, okay? You’ve kept your teeth clean after all.”

“Does that mean I get to suck your dick again?” Taehyung’s eyes sparkled.

“Yes, baby, yes it does.”

[scriptmin]

Three Inches of Heaven [Pt.2]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | TBA

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Jimin x Reader Genre: Time travel, romance, Royalty AU (Mature themes ahead) | Length: 5k

Summary: A bizarre time-warp sends an unsuspecting woman hurtling towards an era of cunning plots, political strife, and strict societal hierarchy—it appeared the world between a few centuries hadn’t been too different after all.

It was difficult to recall if you had fallen asleep before or after the man had left, but when you woke again, he was gone. Hovering over your face now was Jungkook’s, whose eyes widened upon seeing you come to consciousness, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a while.

“Good morning, m’lady,” he greeted, automatically reaching out to assist you into a sitting position. “You slept through the night, kept the physician waiting.”

With the initial adrenaline gone, you realized your muscles had been aching quite a bit from the fall. You rolled your head, twisted your shoulders, cracked your back with a series of satisfying pops. “Ugh- sorry?” You grunted, stifling a yawn. The boy hurried over to the little round table by the bed, lifting up the woven bamboo cover to reveal a rather plain looking bowl. It wasn't appetizing in the slightest, but you knew your body needed it.

“I've brought breakfast, m’lady.”

“How long are you going to keep calling me that?” You remarked, sniffling. “Draw the curtains, it's cold.”

Jungkook had no reaction to your comment, had only set down the bamboo cover and scuttled over to draw the curtains like you'd asked. “The maids are fetching the heavy coats today, you'll be dressed warm now.”

“Can't say you acting like this doesn't feed my ego after all the shitty things you did to me.” The boy was silent, which irritated you quite a bit. The way you remembered him, that snarky mouth of his always had one retort or another hidden under his tongue. His lack of words now was disconcerting, to say the least.

“M’lady,” he said at last, holding the steaming bowl of oats and a wooden spoon out to you. His gaze bore sincerity, something you hadn’t often seen. “Eat.”

You eyed him carefully, almost giving him a dirty look, as you took the food from him. Being stuck in the past wasn't so bad if Jungkook the big bad jerk was bowing left and right and calling you his lady. You wondered if he would kneel if you commanded him to.

“Why are you so quiet?” You stirred the contents of your bowl, unimpressed. Boiled oats were for the sick, and though you hadn't felt ill apart from the usual sores and aches, you didn't want to risk heavy food after what your body had gone through. Your real body. “Usually you're shit-talking a mile a minute. You like the sound of your own voice so much you could rub one off just listening to yourself talk.”

“Rub… what?”

You took a spoonful, swallowing without letting it linger on your tongue. “Never mind.”

“I'm quiet because I don't know how I should respond, m’lady. You've been acting strange since you woke, the physician said you might have memory loss, but… it’s strange. You remember me, but you don't seem to recognize your brother.”

There was a soft rap from the other side of the wooden door. Almost at once, you felt Jungkook’s sight land on you. You blinked at the expectant look on his face, puzzled, until you realised he was probably waiting for you to permit the visitor entry. Or at least, that was how it worked, wasn't it?

“Come in,” you called out, sounding prim, girlish even. The new voice, though still recognizable, was certainly different.

The door was pushed open and parted to reveal a petite handmaiden, dressed in a pale purple tunic in a similar fashion to Jungkook’s, and standing behind her was an elderly man, clad in long, drapey grey robes. He had a few wisps of white hair on his head, what he lacked up there, he made up for with his beard, which was thick, groomed and lightly dusted his collarbone.

“M’lady, the physician is here to take your pulse.”

It was Jungkook who responded first, striding to escort the man to a seat by the round table in front of you. “Thank you for coming, physician.” He then turned to the girl, “leave us.”

The girl dipped her head, then disappeared behind the closed door.

“I am uncertain if my lord has told you about my lady’s condition,” Jungkook began solemnly. You frowned hearing that. The boy you saw now looked exactly like Jungkook during your first years at college. About eighteen, no more than twenty, for sure. The boy from that time was wild, even his own brother, who was the only person he held any sort of regard for, could not make him listen. But this boy, this version of Jungkook—god, he was the man you wished you had lived to see.

“Yes, Lord Namjoon has informed me of his concerns for his sister’s recollections. M’lady, if I may?” You offered your bare wrist to the elder hesitantly. You didn't know how pulse reading worked, but if this man could somehow figure out that you didn't lose your memory, that you just didn't have it to begin with, what would Lord Namjoon and his servant Jungkook do to you? Would they kick you out? You’d never be able to find your way back to your own time if you were too busy trying to survive on the streets. The old days were never kind to lost little girls like you—then again, the future wasn't either.

You observed the physician anxiously, and Jungkook, worriedly. The former’s expression was unreadable, made just that much harder to decipher under all this wrinkles and that thick white beard of his. But after a moment with your wrist, the physician had gone on to press down your jugular, feeling and probing. You fought not to gulp.

“Jungkook,” you began, eager to distract yourself from useless thoughts. “Who's the king now?”

“You slept ten days, not ten years, m’lady,” he replied, chuckling.

“Kings have been known to change overmoon,” said the physician quietly, to himself.

Jungkook glanced at the elder, pursing his lips, before he turned towards you again. “King Han of House Cresthold. He continues to rule, safe and healthy, from Silvercrest Palace up in the capital, with the same wife and same sons and the same esteemed members of court.”

The corners of his lips quivered with suppressed laughter. You glared at him, muttering under your breath, “Don't get snarky with me.”

“Indeed it would be possible for my lady to experience difficulty recalling past events,” the physician declared, dousing the sparks of irritation. “Your pulse indicates stress, both to your body and your mind. I would advise my lady to have as much time to rest. The memories shall return with time.”

The boy beside appeared more glad to hear the news than you. “Sincere thanks, physician,” he said, beaming. The elder rose, nodding kindly at Jungkook, who was quick to assist the senior to his feet. The physician inclined his head to you, making you squirm, before he was ushered to the door. Never in your life had you been accorded such respect from an elder. Age didn't matter as much as title in this era.

“I'll leave my prescription with the handmaids. No need to see me off, child. Watch over your lady.”

“Thank you, physician.”

“So what are you, exactly?” You questioned once the room was left private to you both once more. “Are you my squire or something?”

The boy allowed himself a small grin, his eyes twinkling with youth. “No, m’lady. Last I checked you weren't a knight. I've been serving you since we were children. My father has served yours since they were boys. Don't tell me you've forgotten that too?”

“You were ugly as a kid.” This was a risk, the assumption. But it was one you had to take. The boundaries needed to be tested, and whilst you figured out your way around this time, it was best to keep the two boys believing that you were who they think you were. “Why would I want to remember that.”

There was a limit to temporary amnesia. Time was the obvious factor, the other was that some people you just can't forget. Your own identity was one, and your family, your close friends. You had to play things smart. If they caught on that something bigger was wrong with you, there was no telling what might happen.

Jungkook laughed, a delightful sound that would never have fit in with the distraught internal monologue going on in your head. This was how it was going to be from now on. Though Namjoon says this was your home, you would always be an outsider.

“You wound me, m’lady.” His soft laughter faded into the background as you took another spoonful of your oats, now gone cold. Silently, he had reached a hand to your face, pulled the loose strands of hair behind your ear. Your body went still at once despite yourself, despite everything. In the two years since your separation, you had gotten so close to finally forgetting what a gesture like that could make you feel.

Everything was for nought.

“You almost sound like yourself again,” he mumbled, his hand retreating back to their folded position.

“Really? Are you saying I was a bitch?”

Jungkook seemed to smirk, tenderness suddenly overtaken by mischief. “I wouldn't dare, m’lady.”

Rolling your eyes, you handed him the empty bowl, which he had promptly tucked away in the straw basket. The sight would have you dead with laughter. Jeon Jungkook waiting on your every need! You'd never thought this day would come.

“So where’s my brother?” You asked. Diverting the topic to something else, you felt the bubbling guffaws in your belly subside.

“In the Great Hall meeting with the other southern lordships. They'll be glad to hear of your recovery.” You almost waved him off. No one was ever glad to hear anything about you.

“Right, right. Hey, remind me how long King Han has been in rule?”

“It is his twentieth year. Why m’lady?”

The gears in your brain got to work, spinning through the years to your history lessons in high school. You skipped almost all of them, had nearly failed the class if it weren't for Jungkook helping you with extra credit. It was hard to believe that at the time, he was the one with his head screwed on the right way. The dates and years never came to you, no surprise there, but some facts did.

King Han. Wed the House Waterford shortly after his eighteenth birthday and succeeded his father’s throne. Had two sons, the first by a concubine, so the boy wasn't legally in line for the throne. It was a scandal, your history teacher joked. The crown prince was born some three or four years later, and would, in his own time, come to rule as King… King…

“What's wrong?”

“What?” The prickle on the back of your neck reminded you of being caught dozing off in class. “Nothing,” you said quickly; a reflex response. Your train of thought had disintegrated instantly, but you weren't too bothered. “What time is lunch?”

“Luncheon is at the twelfth hour as usual, but if you're hungry before—”

“No, no it's fine. Will I see Namjoon then?”

Jungkook nodded. “If nothing immediate demands his attention.”

“Good.” You expelled a renewed breath. There was work to be done. You had to find your “memories” before they found you. “Take me to the library.”

Of course every rich family would have a library built into their house. What else would they use the space for? Seven extra bathrooms? Modern customs had old traditions. Even if you had been wrong, it was better than asking if there was one. Jungkook could just take you to whichever was nearest. If he had truly been serving you for as long as he claimed, surely there must be some sort of routine established previously. You just had to figure it out, step by step.

The castle was enormous, expectedly. If this family were as rich as Namjoon said, something of this size was only warranted. When Jungkook left the room with your finished breakfast, two young handmaidens had entered right after to draw a bath and dress you. Like he said, your new garments were warmer, but still light enough for autumn. The maids put you in a dark purple dress, similar to the one you saw on Namjoon. It was a V-neck cut with floral patterned embroidery on the collars and hem of the sleeves, which were long and full, enough to hide your hands when they got cold. Signed at the waist, the overall shape of the dress was flattering. If this was the way they were going to dress you every day, life here wouldn't be half as bad.

You spent the rest of the morning poring over records of the family’s history from as far back as you could go. Jungkook was dismissed on your account in fear he might question your sudden decision to revisit the things you should already know, even with the memory loss taken into consideration.

This was every historian’s wet dream, you snickered to yourself, having just closed a book on Major and Minor Houses of the Southern Reach. Most names were unfamiliar, probably not covered in the syllabus from schooltime. It would've helped if there were little portraits to put a face to the name, but you couldn't be greedy. It wasn't Wikipedia.

You found your House quickly, it was one of the larger chapters, what with the many years of history. The founding of it you breezed through; what you really wanted to know was now—your parents, grandparents, any other secret siblings you should know about.

House Lightforth, the page began, headed by Lord Rion of Light Hill. This part was crossed out, with fresh ink, it was a darker black than the original words. It continued down: headed by Lord Namjoon of Light Hill, inherited by birth right upon his lord father’s passing. The Lady Dana, wife of Lord Rion, remains matriarch of the house.

This had halted you in your tracks. A dead father, that was disappointing, but not unexpected. But the mother had been alive, yet she was nowhere to be seen nor heard, not even through the mouth of others, of Namjoon. She was almost a ghost, but you knew that couldn't be true. Her name would be crossed off otherwise, just another figure in history, a corpse in the ground. Where was she? Why hadn't she been tending to you by your bedside?

“M’lady?” Jungkook’s voice was soft, but nonetheless unexpected. Your shoulders jumped unwittingly as you turned to regard the boy with a mild glare. He pursed his lips in a half-apology. “Luncheon is ready. And you have a visitor.”

The alarm bells went off instantly. Rationally, you doubted you had anything to fear with Namjoon around to deflect the questions. But it had felt as though you were blindsided by a pop quiz, your brain rattled to organise and present the answers at the forefront of your mind.

House Mantle. House Rayd. House Riton. House Brightblade… The chanting would go on and on, as you trailed behind Jungkook through long hallways, down some stairs and up again. The magnificence of the castle was otherwise wasted on you. You would make a mental promise to yourself to tour the place sometime. At long last, you arrived at what must logically be the Great Hall.

It was rather sparse, not what you were expecting considering it was literally named a great hall. Purple and gold banners hung from the little carved windows at the upper end of the high walls, alternating between textile and long, creeper vines as it went from one window to the next. Those banners you recognized to be the house sigil—a dashing bolt of lightning striking the crown of a bald willow tree. The backdrop was purple velvet, framed by gold fringes and leaf embroidery. The banner was everywhere around the castle, not necessarily the image, but the colours at least. It was on the servants, on Jungkook and Namjoon, on you.

There were only two long wooden benches in the hall. One was arranged parallel to the room’s width, on a raised pedestal such that whoever sat upon it peered down at the audience. There were three wooden seats on one side of the table, though it could probably accommodate two more. The one in the middle was the tallest, towering over the rest with fierce, pointed spires. Several servants were working to clear that benchtop, holding scrolls, ink blocks and quills, oil lamps, half-burnt candles; while several others were setting up the other. The second table was positioned lengthwise. This one was much longer, with individual upholstered chairs placed around it. It could seat about twelve.

As the patriarch, Namjoon was seated at the head of the table. Your guest, face obscured by the angle at which you were now approaching, was seated to the left. The chair across was pulled out and waiting. You arrived to the table, curtsying (or trying to) to your companions.

“Sister,” acknowledged Namjoon as he rose gracefully from his seat. He was smiling, some trace of a humorous conversation lingering on his lips. The man beside him stood as well, but his features were quick to neutralize. He almost looked terse, displeased. Like Namjoon, he bore tanned skin, was tall and broad, even under all the layers he wore.

Sky blue and white. Your thoughts paused briefly, brows furrowing in concentration. Of House Brightblade.

“Cousin Taehyung is here to see you.”

You knew you had already been looking at each other, but it was only upon Namjoon’s official introduction that you really saw him. Stern eyes, stern jawline, naturally frowning lips. And dark hair, same as Namjoon’s. He looked like a nightmare, but he looked good.

Cousin, you grumbled to yourself, what a waste.

Growing impatient at your silence, the man perked a thick brow in question. His chin seemed to tilt upwards at you.

“Hello cousin,” you offered, trying to mask the uncertainty quivering beneath your voice. It was his turn to be silent now, stewing over your response like he was trying to spit out eggshells from a mouthful of omelette.

“‘Hello cousin?’” He repeated, more so to the man between your figures than to you directly. “This is worse than you described. Do you want to consult my physician?”

Namjoon laughed, loud and hearty, almost goofily even. “I think she's better this way.”

“Better?” The man, Taehyung, deepened his frown. Whatever beef he had with you, past you, it had better not be serious. He sank down into his seat after Namjoon, all the while scrutinizing your every move with his sharp, feline gaze. You had forgotten about Jungkook until you felt him help you settle into your own seat. For that moment, you dared admit that you much rather preferred him over the enigma sitting before you now.

“More like boring,” he continued, like a child commenting on a zoo animal. I want to see the lions! You could almost hear him say. “So easy to bully. No fun at all.”

“Oh don't worry about that,” Namjoon replied. He angled his head to regard you with a pointed look, almost having you shrink in your seat. He must still remember your telling him to clearly shut the fuck up. “She still does put up a fight. Just... try not to have at each other's throat during this time. The physician advised to be careful.”

Taehyung scoffed. It was throaty, almost hacking, completely unlike the refinement of his features. Based on looks alone you'd think he was the prince! “Be careful? You speak as if she's a porcelain vase, Namjoon.” His eyes returned to bore on you, half-lidded, implying unimpression. “Not a very good vase either. All angles.”

“And you both speak as if I'm not here,” you quipped rather irritatedly. The men shut up at once, their gaze snapping to you in an instant. It were as if they had truly forgotten about your presence. “Where's the food?” You sniffed, shifting under their watch. “I'm hungry.”

With a single look from Namjoon, Jungkook had bowed and promptly left to the kitchens. In the meantime, a serving girl had stepped up to fill your glasses with a fragrant purple liquid. Wine, you were hoping.

“At least her appetite hasn't changed,” commented Taehyung over his cup.

“I was hoping it would.”

“Why?” You snapped, defensive. Namjoon looked taken aback, but the other man only sipped his drink. “Are we too poor to put food on the table? Again?”

The word had slipped out before you could even graze a finger at the tail of it. Again. You surely had not wanted to be subjected to the harshities of your first life again. If God wanted you to live a second time, it ought to be better than the first.

Fortunately neither men at the table had taken to address the questionable phrase, either that or they had simply allowed it to fall to the wayside, having known your condition.

“Hardly.” His chuckle was patronizing. “I’d starve myself and everyone else to the bone to feed you.”

“That's precisely the problem,” Taehyung interrupted, setting his cup back onto the table and gesturing for the servant to refill it before he continued, solemn, “you spoil her, Namjoon.”

“I'm not worried. There's always you to put her back in place. In turn, she puts you back in yours.”

“Yeah,” you grinned, reaching for your own cup, which had been untouched until now. “Stay in your lane, Taehyung.”

Something intangible fell onto the table then. It was shapeless, nameless, but as prominent as a golden roasted pig head, apple in the mouth and all. It sat in the middle of the three of you—the pregnant silence.

“Is that meant to be an insult?” Taehyung asked.

You glanced back and forth between the two men, considering it for a moment. “No,” you eventually said over your cup, poised by your lips. It was wine. You could smell it. “No it wasn't.”

The pig head disintegrated then, all the muscles lost tension, and the air resumed its usual current.

“Not too much,” Namjoon reminded quietly by your side. You took one last big gulp into your mouth and put the cup down.

“Let the child drink. She should get accustomed to it, build her tolerance, else she falls prey to those with ill intentions.” Taehyung was leaning back into his chair now, sparing a brief glance to the door where Jungkook had exited from. He was getting impatient. Proof of having lifelong servitude. House Brightblade was indeed a rather old one, though not as old as yours.

Namjoon shook his head, amused, sipping his own wine. “I’d hardly consider her your child when your name days are only some months apart.”

“She's a babe when it comes to drinking.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Still suckling from her mother’s teats.”

“I take severe offense to that,” you promptly replied. From the corner of your eye, Namjoon had raised his brows, pursed his lips, impressed. “I challenge you to a match. Let's see who's the real babe after it.”

Taehyung didn't answer, but his lips moved. Only one corner at first, up and up into a lopsided smirk, until at last he was grinning, devilishly, handsomely. Devilishly handsome. The moment before he spoke again, the servants had come back with food.

“Challenge accepted.”

You wondered if it were possible for a person to die twice. Because that had surely been the feeling plaguing you the moment you regained consciousness. In all honesty, this one felt more like the real deal.

It had been a few hours since your waking. You were washed and dressed and fed, with warm soup and porridge which you hardly touched. Jungkook had snuck some mocking sniggers here and there throughout the morning, but even that had fallen beyond your capacity to give a fuck. Whoever won that challenge never truly won. Not with a hangover like this.

“Should we take a walk, m’lady?” Jungkook offered, his laughter was thinly concealed, but he had held it down somehow.

“A walk?” You repeated loudly, unnecessarily appalled. “I'm ready to keel over and die and you want me to take a walk?”

“That's what Lord Taehyung did this morning, right out of bed. He seemed fine the last I saw him.”

And so you had gathered your skirts, your swinging sleeves, tightened the sash around your waist, and stalked out of your room. Staggered, mostly, but the punch was there in your head. You didn't make it very far until your pace had naturally slowed, and you fell behind Jungkook in step so he could lead you.

You had walked the corridor along your room a few times, but despite the number of closed doors, you had never sensed the presence of another. Now, though, there was a commotion. The shouting echoed ghost-like off the walls, as if coming from the other end of a long, unexplored tunnel. Your feet slowed as you listened intently—there was only one voice. A woman’s. She sounded distraught, but not angry.

Words didn't find you as quickly as you found Jungkook, who had his head lowered and looked as if he had been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. His pace seemed to quicken too; he wanted to leave the scene behind. You considered questioning him, but it seemed his own conscience found a need to answer your unspoken sentiments, which he had assumed incorrectly.

“You mustn't, m’lady,” he seemed to whisper, afraid of being overheard as you approached the door. “It's the lord’s orders.”

You frowned at this. There must be something greater going on behind that door. “Why not?”

Jungkook looked like he could combust on the spot if you pressed anymore. Who was the woman, and what were Namjoon’s orders—why was Jungkook a wound up toy soldier, unable to take his first march, hiding on this side of the door?

“Try to stop me.”

You bolted, fear of falling only a tiny fraction of your thoughts. Jungkook reacted in a blink, but not fast enough, your sleeves slipping from the gaps between his fingers. You had closed the remaining distance just as he called out your name. He couldn't stop you from opening it—from knowing. Or should you say “remembering”?

The scene was frozen before you, a buffering movie screen seen through the doorframe at which you stood, similarly rigid, stunned. The room was a complete wreck. Broken bowls, bronze mirrors, shards, torn sheets, spilled food. There was this smell too, of urine and something else, something intangible. You looked at the woman on the ground, and she looked back at you, her arms paused mid-flail in the air, hair disheveled, face marred by isolation, desolation. A young girl knelt beside her, her dress stained, perhaps with the rejected meal. She must've been trying to stop her from doing something with the shards. Her own arm was cut, the ruby red blood dripping onto the stone floor, echoing in the bed of your ears like a leaky tap.

What was happening? Was this a blooper in this make-believe life you were now living? A behind-the-scene reel that you shouldn't have seen?

There was a whisper from somewhere in the room. Thin like a wisp of smoke, and equally as short lived—it evaporated almost as quickly as it came.

“Child…”

“M’lady!” Jungkook breathed, grabbing you forcefully. Your entire frame rocked from the inertia of his sprint, but beneath that, you were trembling, completely cold. “Please- we must go.”

Your body was shoved away, a sled dragged by the string after it had not made the full way down the slope. Your feet trudged along, an automatic reaction, you were no longer in any capacity to control them.

Jungkook had loosened his grip, but his touch left tight manacles around your wrist even after. You knew who that woman was.

“How could she be treated like that?” You spoke at last, incredulous. Your two figures had made it a safe distance away, now paused atop a tall flight of stairs, down which led to a foyer. “My own mother?”

“You must understand—”

“I don't have to understand anything!” The distilled silence of the castle was overtaken by your shrill shrieks. Halfway, you wondered if Namjoon would hear you, would come rushing to diffuse the situation like he had the first time. But you knew that was not possible, not when the woman had screamed and screamed and yet the only person by her side was the servant girl. “My brother’s orders?” You scoffed. “I don't believe it. Take me to him. I want him to explain.”

“You consented to this.” The glint in his eyes was firm, unbudging. You saw this often in his other self, but never here. In the back of your mind, you realized he had stopped addressing you as ‘m’lady’. “You agreed that this was better for everyone, for the House. If word got out—”

“Stop talking.” You were no longer shaking. Composure was ebbing back into you, but at the same time, you felt something escape, radiating off your skin, never to return. “Better never means better for everyone.”

“M’lady…” He was back to his tender self now. Soft and pliable.

It had become clear that you didn't belong here—that you never could. It was not the era that made you the misfit puzzle piece, in all honesty society now and then had not been too different at all. There were secrets, danger, dead fathers, absent mothers, the rich and poor, superior and inferior. Rather, it was simply something you had not wanted at all. Escaping one life only to land in another—did this happen to everyone who died, or was it just because it was you? Because life seemed bent on making a fool out of you even until the end. Even in the end.

You had no desire to belong anywhere. Not to that time, not to this time either.

“You said I fell into a pond, didn't you?”

Jungkook flinched, startled by the breaking of silence like a shattered glass window. He nodded slowly, carefully, unwilling to hear you say more. But you had said it anyway. “Take me there. I want to see it for myself.”

Perhaps third time's the charm.

[floggingink]

Riverdale, “Chapter Nineteen: Death Proof”

Death Proof is a great movie. there’s one man in it and he gets Pussycatted at the end. Vanessa Ferlito gives a lap dance. Zoё Bell’s abs have a starring role

Jughead is a Serpent now, so it must follow that he’s taking care of Hotdog voluntarily

did he take the couch? Jug took the couch. he’s writing again, so he’s got his groove back via an emotional plateau/Toni

Betty hung up and was like, Shit. SHIT!

Nick has a knife for...protection? cocktail garnishes?

Mrs. St. Clair seems thrilled to meet Betty and then not at all surprised that Nick has charges brought against him, the ennui of the ruling class

Betty gets a free pass for her suspicious appearance at the apartment for just having been that much of a pain to Sheriff Keller by now

I liked Betty’s tone of disappointed confusion when she says “You didn’t kill him.”

I don’t like BH talking about “nakedness” in any context, no matter who he turns out to be

I want to say those are Veronica’s shimmery blue pajamas?

Penelope’s icy disregard reverts Cheryl back to calling her “mommy,” which I think is like Cheryl’s PR thing? Cheryl continues to be fascinating. she’s called Penelope “mother,” hasn’t she? it’s all about context. it’s all about context with Cheryl

Jughead eats: at breakfast with Jug, Toni daintily eats fruit out of a parfait cup, like Veronica

Toni’s uncle locks her out of his house, so there’s that. the Serpents don’t have somewhere for her to sleep?

Jughead was honestly about to be like “Last night was…[fun/amazing, similar],” because that’s what people do in Bridget Jones and he’s flying without a net here

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: in a remarkable turn, Toni puts an end to the whole affair, because she has better things to do (girls), which is a stress off everyone’s shoulders

Jughead’s “not over Betty” because it was like six hours ago?

also props for the classic bad girl-bisexuality revelation. it doesn’t get badder (it’s GOOD). this is PRECISELY what I want but now I want optical proof

Betty is done with the BH’s “Simon Says”

The Blossom spawn: “the people” at “the Farm” (CAPITALIZED in the closed captioning!) will help Polly “disappear” for while? I’m gonna need a Farm episode pronto. what the HELL is THE FARM

Archie checks up on Betty in the morning and takes care of her of best he can, because this is a Good Archie episode. Good Archie wants to know why Betty hasn’t fixed it with Veronica yet. Good Archie never lets you walk alone. Good Archie stops you from walking into your ex’s brunch

Certified pedigree: the sheer SPREAD of personalities at Alice’s living room shaming. the mayor and the sheriff and their felon children. BOTH Lodges showed up. can Fred handle any more disappointment? Reggie has a parent?? what’s next!!!

Nick’s party was “bacchanalian,” so it’s probably best Alice only saw Jughead’s birthday party from across the yard

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: “Except for my Betty”

I’VE HAD SOME WINE LET’S GET THIS BITCH DONE

SUCCUBUS VERONICA IS GREAT VERONICA. ARCHIE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT A SUCCUBUS IS

I relate to Kevin because “HASHTAG BUGHEAD IS NO MORE?” is coincidentally what I woke up screaming two Thursdays ago

Hiram says “ACID QUEEN ALICE” because there’s something in Riverdale’s water that just gives you that kind of inspiration!!!! apparently he knows some shit about her too!!! everybody’s parents seem to “know” about Alice. she’s got a lot of attitude for someone whose secrets EVERYONE KNOWS

—just like Betty!

“The Southside is the source of all our problems.” HOW’S THAT, HIRAM? because your northside succubus children were the ones who tossed it back like green apple sugar powder in a Baby Bottle Pop

Archie’s 180 with “Not all Serpents are dealers” is the kind of whiplash Archie is capable of. he knows he fucking broke up with his boy. fucking fix it with Jughead you twit before he gets a bigger tattoo

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie was SO HOPING she would get out of there with plausible deniability!

Jughead is like NODDING ALONG with every word Mr. Phillips reads, waiting to be abandoned

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: JUG LEAVES THE INSTANT HE GETS A CAPSLOCK TEXT FROM THE BOY HE LOVES

he interrupts a totally warranted scolding from his beloved English teacher to PROBABLY get reamed again by Archie, but he CAN’T RESIST WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN

Archie coming to get Jughead is probably Archie’s “WHAT’S UP IS I SAW YOU, ARCHIE” moment. it’s not equivalent but rather proportional in that you know this is the best I could hope for from Archie, but also—I don’t want to shortchange him! he went to the scary school where everyone hates him, through the metal detectors (OR NOT!!!!!!), and stood dithering in the hallway until he saw his Jughead!!!!!!! HE CAME TO RESCUE JUGHEAD

this is a great example of Archie’s hands-on “justice,” which is sometimes more in quotes than other times, but he didn’t CALL Jughead, you know, he ran over there! fuck! FUCK! WHEN ARCHIE IS GOOD HE IS VERY VERY GOOD

Archie is like hauling him out by the fleece collar too, like Jug wants to get Toni, and Archie, his arms locked around Jughead’s waist, teenage boys scrambling

What damn high school in America: Sweet Pea punches the locker when he gets arrested, because of injustice

I think Veronica would have listened to Betty if Kevin had not interrupted!

“She’s not worth it” is way harsh, Tai, but Betty did seemingly attack her out of nowhere

anyway of course Betty answers the phone, because she’s stressed, down two friends, and doesn’t want to have done all that for no reason

the “Sugar Man”? the “Sugar Man”? SUGAR MAN

if one more person tells Jughead that the Serpents deal jingle-jangle, he’s going to absolutely blow a gasket

“Tall Boy wants to parley” is going to be a code sentence of mine for something. if we’re on the phone and it suddenly sounds like I’ve dropped it and you just hear “TALL BOY WANTS TO PARLEY!!!!,” the Winter Solider is there

Fifth period is AP English: Cheryl is sunbathing, in the shade, outside Thistle House reading Baudelaire because...it helps her feel calm…

Cheryl’s sheaths: I want to say those sick black sunglasses are Miu Mius

“Is there no memory, however traumatic, you won’t defile?” is an Alice-level read

oh, Fred would like to know how Jughead’s doing? ISN’T THAT NICE, YOU PRAWN

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Malachi’s House of the Dead is exactly what I wish I’d had the guts to make my dorm room look like, like all the cool lesbians’ rooms in the art majors’ dorm building, like the cellars of the Opéra Populaire but in the Strand

Gay?!: quick question: if Tall Boy weren’t here, would Malachi be fucking Jughead?

Cheryl had so seamlessly incorporated the Sugar Man into her emotional life as a first grader that she drew a family picture with him in it, like in Children of the Corn (her parents are two TINY stick figures in the background, it’s incredible)

is Sheriff Keller letting Betty have “one question” a red herring? asking for Jughead

the zoom in on Betty looking at Veronica and the cut to her audibly sipping on a milkshake is classic art

Veronica is right that Betty needs to “break up” with BH, but Betty’s Bettiness instead makes her want to “turn the tables on him”

HOW EASY WAS THIS CONVERSATION, BETTY. YOU COULD HAVE JUST TALKED TO THEM TWENTY-FOUR HOURS AGO

OH MY GOD! Jughead and Archie, together again, it’s been like THIRTY YEARS!!!!!

Archie knows why Jughead joined the Serpents, has learned some lessons maybe? (no)

the second god-blessed cut to Archie (in his letterman jacket) and Jughead (fleeced, his man-about-town look) with the prison phones to their ears

“SP-24601”: FP Jones played by Hugh Jackman would be a sight to behold

poor FP has lost everything except his honor and now he’s lost his SON. his hair is such a mess. he’s gotta SLAM THE PHONE

“Ghoulies dress like fops” is great

they drive hearses, like Claire Fisher

“RIVERDALE DRIFT”? Jughead did NOT watch that franchise? (Archie’s expression is fantastic)

FP’s like, I hate that you joined my gang, but now you’re going to break some laws for me

Penelope eats hard boiled eggs with toast soldiers

the Caravaggio reproduction I liked from the wake escaped the fire!

did Penelope know about the drugs? I thought she didn’t know but I guess just knew the Sugar Man was sketchy and avoided him for Legal Reasons

“I wouldn’t even go cruising here.”

Reggie DOES look good in the county’s blue vest

I hope the reason Betty’s avoiding talking to Jughead, LIKE ARCHIE KEEPS TELLING HER TO DO, is because it’s too important and she’s scared to see him

Veronica’s purple pumps

God bless jingle-jangle: Verne the JJ dealer is a cutie!

you know he’s a Ghoulie because he hand-stitched a leopard-print patch onto his studded sleeveless vest

Veronica was rich: $150 for two stix of the JJ??? this is how you know it’s the northside kids with the drug problems!

“Drugstore Cowboy”

Sexy, aesthetic Southside:  these angels hot glue the ends of the stripey jingle-jangle sticks, because it’s a family-owned business. I kind of love the Ghoulies? like I’d rather hang out at Malachi’s than the Whyte Wyrm from what I’ve seen so far, as long as I get my next tetanus shot first

Jughead calls Archie his “boy” to impress Malachi, Archie is wearing his Riverdale jacket probably without thinking about the political symbolism

I couldn’t believe Maggie Kiley had the audacity to stage the “Veronica/Betty?” “Archie/Jughead?” face-to-face, but she’s this season’s Lee Toland Krieger, she is an artist

Y’ALL REALLY GONNA TAKE JUGHEAD’S FIFTH HOME AWAY FROM HIM?

“SHARON”?????????

Cheryl’s red crop top and paisley trousers

“an unrepentant spore”

Penelope is Cheryl’s “cobra-like mother”

I swear Graham Phillips was darling on The Good Wife

Archie approached Reggie for the car and Betty approached Jughead about fixing it, and that’s that

Jughead consented to sulk next to her while she tuned it up, because he loves her but he’s mad

and it’s okay that he’s mad, for the record, because he’s been broken up with three times in two days

his voice cracks, preciously, when he’s like YEAH AND YOU BROKE UP WITH ME

I love how pissy and curt Jughead gets when he’s peeved. “You just called it a date.”

I’m curious about “You did the one thing that could hurt me.” EVERYTHING hurts Jughead

Betty’s in denim overalls and Jughead’s in a mechanic shirt for no reason except they’re next to cars

Cheryl is getting some grade-A maple syrup this episode! leveraging the St. Clairs’ check for dirt on the Sugar Man? GIRL

The female gaze: Veronica slept with Archie one last time because he literally might die today

aw, he’s proud of Veronica for her Ghoulie stunt

Hiram and Hermione are LITERALLY playing chess

OKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY WHEN VERONICA SAID “HE TRIED TO DO IT TO ME,” EVERYONE IN THE ROOM WATCHING WITH ME WHEN HIRAM LOOKED UP WAS LIKE OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!! I’M TELLING YOU!!!!!

Hiram is about to rip someone’s face off with his teeth and Hermione steps into frame and it rack focuses on her, GENIUS

These students are legally children: I want to say Tall Boy is the only adult at the race. the FP at Jughead’s party, if you will

Best costume bit: everyone of course looks fucking incredible at the race. the Ghoulies? slick and absurd dandies. Kevin’s powder blue bomber jacket? he’s not at Needle Park, and he’s cruising. Betty’s high-waisted post-WWII skinny Express trousers? she knows Jughead’s looking. Cheryl’s $1,000 leather jacket and Quentin Tarantino foot-fetish slingback? she knows I’m looking. and Jughead in all black? Jughead looks GREAT in leather. Betty, write this down

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Betty’s bandana and ponytail

Please protect Betty: Veronica and Archie get to make out, while Betty and Jughead have to make do with Betty telling him she can never stop loving him and to drive good

Jughead doubts it: Jughead’s “You’re an enigma, Cooper” is the second-greatest thing he has ever said to her, after “That was haunting, Betty.”

so Jughead can drive? Jughead can drive STICK?

Toni and Sweet Pea got out on 1) lack of evidence or 2) Penny Peabody threatening someone

Gay.: Toni got a face full of Cheryl and she’ll be back. Toni, save Cheryl from the evils of this world

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl was ABSOLUTELY “born for this moment”

Sixth period is Intro to Film: I know this is Grease, and I can appreciate Jughead being the Danny Zuko of this moment, but I don’t want to forget the chicken run from Rebel Without a Cause, where Natalie Wood starts the race with only her elated sky-high jump and tiny 50’s waist

Jughead gives Cheryl a thumbs-up and Malachi makes the rock-and-roll index-and-pinky signal

Cheryl’s hair: God, the see-through scarf? her immaculate cutout shirt? her Jesus Christ Superstar heavenward arms? CHERYL WAS BORN FOR THIS MOMENT

I don’t think Jughead is shifting gears

BUT HE IS HAVING A GREAT TIME!

oh NOW you say “abort”

Archie > Dawson: TURNS OUT ARCHIE HAD A GREAT PLAN! WOWZERS

Jughead can drive very well, has very strong arms, and can run very fast. these things I didn’t know!

okay but the race is forfeit, right? buys them some time, maybe

Betty and Veronica watching Jughead go lite-ballistic from stress and Archie being like, Dude, dude, calm down, like something was not right with the world (Archie did a great job)

although Jughead is right that the power politics are complicated and everyone is in danger, although it was frankly that way before

I liked Archie using a chessboard analogue. Veronica is rubbing off on him

is Betty getting a ride home with Reggie? classic

“Careful you don’t get burned again.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Penelope’s left hand makes her so uncomfortable that she wears ONE leather glove

when one Sugar Man retires, another seamlessly takes his place, like the Dread Pirate Roberts

“Damn good coffee”: fucking correct me if I’m fucking wrong, but is that the nightmare painting hanging over the fucking fireplace?

Cheryl hands the check back over, because as you will remember Cheryl honors business deals, but Penelope decides to be “a mother”

Pop’s trademark blue purgatorial lighting bathes the girls in their plotting booth

The Blue & Gold is basically just Betty’s awesome blog at this point

her “Care to comment?” is WICKED though

Betty has resolved to find BH, which means he has about three episodes left. the Serpents should really start involving Betty in their maneuverings, as she is just as much a hereditary Serpent as Jughead and much more effectual 

50 Shades of Betty: SHE’S BREATHING DOWN HIS NECK AND SHE LOVES IT. this is her driving fast! they love danger!!!!!!

was Mr. Phillips protecting Jughead by telling him to stay away from the drug world??? (I mean obviously he was, but because Phillips was an insider and liked Jughead and didn’t want to have to kill him) or did he just not want Mini Woodward and Bernstein on the case?

he and Jughead make the exact same sort of grimly resolved/horrified eye contact, respectively, as FP and Jughead when FP got arrested last season

Toni TOTALLY knows this shattered something of Jughead’s Southside foundation. look at her little smile

Archie thinks his plan with the race backfired and he’s worried he’s losing Jughead, PUNKIN

Fred’s popping Chekhov’s Valiums, so he’s about to be addicted to drugs

I can’t even do it out here with the fucking Lodges sitting around their cream salon with Andre being like, the St. Clairs are dead or whatever, ma’am, and Hermione’s like, Thank you Andre, go get yourself something nice

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica’s like, I HAVE HAD A STRESSFUL DAY AND IT MAKES ME FEEL POWERFUL

“CHECKMATE,” HIRAM? HIRAM, HAVE YOU MURDERED? DID YOU JUST MURDER?

Betty and Jughead I want to say are back together, but they did not kiss this episode, which means I have to start over with the tally marks on my wall

Betty’s reading The Silence of the Lambs, to better figure out what her game is going to be (Jughead had a copy)

Jughead looks over at her like, Damn. My girlfriend is fucking scary. I fucking love my girlfriend

SUGAR GETS GOT!!!!!!!! BODY COUNT OFFICIALLY TWO! he’s almost caught up to Hiram Lodge

NEXT WEEK: Sheriff Keller does me a solid and takes his shirt off

[happysen]

I met a guy.

He was just a tourist in this city and we matched on Tinder. Most of his pictures were him and his band and I swiped right cause he wrote Arctic Monkeys down in the profile. Only two days after we started chatting, he set up a date for us. I never had Tinder date before as the only reason I used the app was to read some fucking hilarious profiles or to chat away the temporary sadness in a moment of weakness. That’s why I was a bit reluctant, thinking about actually the chemistry in the conversation was not that, you know, strong. Or to put it in another way, I was shy. But yeah, I took risks, accepting his invitation to dinner cause I didn’t have any other things to do except the trip with the Idiots and obviously, the “Communism” gang from my university was all busy with their internships and “personal business” and I was sick of their bullshit :) 

We met in front of a bar at 6, which I thought was too early when he suggested but agreed anyway and kinda regretted later, wishing we should have met way earlier, idk maybe right after we matched lol. His friend dropped him off while I was waiting for him on my bike. 

“Hey, are you Hannah?”- said somebody.

I turned around and like “BOOM”. It wasn’t as strong as “being struck by lightning” but for a second I bet I looked like a fucking retard. There he was, standing in front of me, holding a helmet in his hand, wearing a black leather jacket and a pair of tight black jeans with black ankle boots. His extremely curly perms were combed onto the front and he had this kind of slightly shy smile as he approached me. The first impression was good, him getting dressed quite neatly for the date I give him that. Not you know, backpackers style with shorts and crumpled tank tops. There was something really classically cool and dreamy about him but at first, I couldn’t really tell and just got that tingling feeling in my stomach. 

He got on my bike and I rode about the Old Quarter looking for somewhere to eat without any specific places in mind and I was lowkey freaking out on the scenario that I couldn’t take him to any nice places. We stopped at a famous sticky rice store and sat down for some. I was always talkative when I was nervous. Guess that’s why I kept scrambling about stupid shit and putting on the most commercial smile I had. For a second, I thought he was intimidated by my gibberish and lost his interest cause he talked quite little but he kept eye contact. He told me a bit about his life in Beijing, the job, his travelling,… Putting up with me when I asked whether his perms were natural or not. Turned out they were natural. *internally screaming* 

He spoke in this gentle standard British accent, very polite, a bit reserved at first. So far the date hadn’t crashed into the ground. Glad. He paid for the food. +10 points for the Hufflepuff (I guess he was a Hufflepuff). We rode back to the bar earlier cause it was supposed to be the Open Mic night and as we shared some common in our taste of music, live music seemed to be a suitable date venue. But yeah it was about 7 and it was too early for music so he got a beer and I had water then we talked. By this time, well I got fonder of him. He was calm, very chilled, knew how to keep a conversation properly without any over the board flirting. An hour or so of music talking and some other small talk, he went to the toilet before we left the bar and I was squirming like a teenager over her idol and had to text one of my close friends to let out a bit of my excitement nearly to the point of explosion. I put it in Capital as I texted that bitch lol : “HE LOOKED LIKE A FUCKING ROCK STAR”. Yeah that’s how I pictured him. Looking like a fucking dupe of Alex Turner while pouring all of that British accent all over my ears. 

I suggested we get out of there and go for a little walk around the streets and come back later for the live music. At this point, I guess I was really into him and I’m gonna tell you why later. He walked next to me and gently moved me to the other side so that he was the one next to the road and the traffic. ;a; That was fucking another 10 points for the Hufflepuff. For better balance (yep, trust me) and you know I like him and wanted a bit more intimacy, I put my arm around his as his hands were in his leather pockets and we wandered around aimlessly while getting more laughter and I think he started to get more loosened up and comfortable. We ended up in another restaurant in an old house and he asked me if I wanted to share a pancake and let me choose the flavour. (+5) We started to talk about food as I started to act a bit like a little bitch about how sugary and fat those pancakes were :’( (shouldn’t have done that) and why I resented this kind of food as my ex-boyfriend dumped me saying I was a bit fat and I was scarred by that. Why the fuck did I say that???? Luckily, he didn’t seem to be offended by my saying on his choice of food. The conversation was smooth, more laughter, he had another beer. We started the topic of ladyboys and other sexualities, laughing it off on the joke that he was actually a ladyboy trying to give me some “services”. Another hour or so, we decided to leave there to get back to the bar and I realized I forgot my backpack at the bar. I told you I was so excited to take a walk with him that I did forget my back. Fortunately, the purse and bike key and phone were in my coat pockets. lol. 

We walked back hand in hand and I leaned onto him when we laughed. It felt so good to have somebody so cute and understanding and chilled next to me. By the time we came back to the bar, it had already filled with people and the music was playing. He ordered a coffee and I had another water lol As people were performing, we quite focused on watching the music and sometimes had to shout into each other’s ears as he laughed at my story and laid his big cool hand on my thigh while taking a sip of coffee with the other hand, still  looking at the band. I shamelessly got mesmerized by his figure in the blue and red light of the stage of the bar and the way he moved his head to the music while still trying to listen to what I was saying. We sat for another hour and the music started to get to my head so I suggested we head out for some late night desserts knowing he has a sweet tooth. 

We went for some caramel pudding, sitting on some red plastic tools on the pavement at 11 p.m and I forgot all about my father, my mother and my cousin who I promised to that I would get back by 10 :) After that, he got into the convenience store for another beer and tea and we got teased by the cashiers who complimented that we looked good as a couple and I laughed happily looking at his confused face cause he didn’t understand a word lol. As we held hands walking out of that store and he excused himself to the toilet, I made up my mind. I called dad asking him if I could sleep over at my cousin’s as it was pretty late and after a while of lying my best, he gave up and agreed. 

He took me back to his friend’s place. Okay so if you’re expecting some steamy sex scene, there is none for you. At this point, to be honest, I was wishing I hadn’t been on my period and yes somehow as a virgin, who was head over heels for this guy, I was shamefully expecting it too LOL He took me to some benches by a lake and he sat on those with a beer in his hand while I stood between his legs. The conversation was pretty stupid, we talked nonsense but I love it :)) I leaned on to his side and he started to caress the back of my knees. For the first time, I touched his face, his beard and messed with his hair, played with the buttons of his jackets and as I was laughing, I put my hands behind his neck and pulled him closer to me. That lasted for a while before I finally sat down next to him, putting my big fat short legs onto his long finely carved ones in fucking black jeans and he pulled mine closer to his chest and we ended up in a really intimate position. He listened to me and my depression stuff, how I got lonely in Japan and even my friends let me down, how I was dumped by the guy I got to know exactly a year ago and got scarred into thinking I was fat and overweight because of him. I don’t know why I did that. It just came out of my mouth and he was willing to listen. We were sitting in the dark at midnight by a lake and I was pouring all my shit on the guy on our first date.

And suddenly he stared at me with these eyes, approaching his face to mine while his eyes were looking all over my face like he was waiting for my permission, and naturally he kissed me. I let him. It was so warm, sending electricity all over my body and my mind just went numb. His lips opened mine and our tongues met, he threw his hand over my shoulder and used the other one to hold my face. I was just so into it and lost for air that I had to pull away to catch my breath. His nose caressed the corner of my lips patiently waiting for me and I let out: “I’m not experienced in this shit. I’m a virgin”. He was like “What?”

For a second I thought he would dump me at the spot and I felt like an idiot. But no. He didn’t pull away, seemed only a bit surprised and only want to confirm what he just heard. I repeated and he said: “ For a virgin, you are quite confident in kissing ”. At least he wasn’t my first kiss, at least I know what I was doing thank god. At this point, the line of the day was spoken: “You taste like caramel pudding”.  I mean fuck me. Are you fucking serious? Isn’t that the most fucking romantic, the cutest thing one person could say after a kiss???? 

Then we kissed again and again and again with some small talks in between that always ended up in us clashing our lips. The bitter taste of beer just got all over my mouth and my lungs were filled with his cologne and shampoo scent. In a moment I was filled with this feeling of tasting somebody's soul, my senses were full of him. It just got more and more intense and passionate and he moved his hand all over my body, slightly squeezing my ass and my breasts and held my face. But that was it. He didn’t try to get into my pants, just pure kissing and small kisses on my neck which I actually wanted more but seriously I was trying my best to contain my shit then.There was a point that I got so fucking close to it I had to pull myself away and said while gasping for air: “ Stop or else I’m not gonna make it out of here”. In response, he just chuckled and kissed me some more. 

It lasted until 1 in the morning and he told me I should get home or else both of us would get into trouble. 1 a.m me and him holding hands under the dim yellow lights of the streets, he leaned for a kiss and I kept saying Stop for a couple of hundreds of times. Speck of kisses all over my face and then we parted ways. Just like real lovers. Even for one night.

[mermaidfan76]

Homeless Autistic Girl

Hey guys... this really kills me to ask, however right now I’m homeless at the moment.

Technology, I’m living with a long time friend who is hounding me to find a job since she believes it’s just so damn easy and move out by The end of February. I’ve put out application after application and only maybe a couple have called back for an interview. Only for them to tell me the same exact thing over and over, “You don’t seem like you will do well for this job.” With out even giving me a garsh darn chance to show them I’m willing to work my butt off.

Yet, they hire people who are literally ALLERGIC to manual labor, and pay them twice the wage to appease them so they don’t get sued. It pisses me off. I have Autism and PTSD, I watched my mother and fathers beloved dog get run over by a car, I know these people have mommy and daddy’s that coddle them. My parents died on September 22, 2013. My sister’s threw me out in the cold and said I’m on own. I’m still here, sadly. Not one day goes by and I don’t think about giving up and killing myself. Love to give that bayberry (under a new name) Bitch and all the rest what they wanted in the first place! With heartless pieces off shit like them in this world, I definitely don’t feel it’s worth the aggravation!

You push, you kick, you fight, you bite, you bunch, but guess what you end up someone else’s lunch! It’s survival of the fittest and you’ve won the game if you have Money, Fame, and/or Power! Just 1 on these gives you the right to control poor peoples lives!

You can play the advocate for good all day, but turning a blind eye to the innocent people that are truly in pain by the very people you are advocating for. Who’s the real villain? Saying the people who did nothing deserve it because someone said its poetic revenge... read a book. Get your facts straight, you really think they would attack now? Why didn’t they attack back then? People don’t postpone revenge -_-...

(if I had a grudge against a person, I’d want to get them now, not expect my descendants to attack his descendants. 1. How do I know if they’ll follow through? 2. What if everything is patched up and my other descendants didn’t know that and still desire to take their revenge? (They don’t even know what the whole argument is about... could be about stealing the last slice of pizza) This is about taking over the world just like before! We stopped them once! They’re trying again, however they fooled you!)

So with politics, islamphopia (more like not wanting an ideology of woman haters who desire to take over any free country and turn it to a world of oppression and insanity), racism (a political term used when a white person doesn’t agree with you), feminist (because women are oppressed because they have tits and a vigina), fatphopia (because veggies don’t taste like cake, if they did we’d still become fat, why? Because we’d get sick of sweets and want savory tasting veggies that you only get from cake... oh the irony), LBGT without Q (Queers are just feminist men who are really flamboyant gays... and real gays try to avoid, ever heard the term, “Queer as a Clock work Mouse.” Man I miss my English mother! The LBG, The Les, The Bi, and The Gay, do as you wish... Hey I’m you Bi, I find shapely girls just Be A U Ti Ful to draw, have to get that full body motion. Gays, love ya, best guy friends and you give perfect fashion advice, Lesbians, you’re very easy going and easy to talk to, al yal are A O Kay in my book. Trans, um... look umm... I’m female... I have more of a male mind... we can find common ground here can’t we?) and that’s what I go through everyday. Half the words I’m called... how do they apply to me? Like racist? I judge by character, not by skin tone.

(All I see is another human being in front of me. If you act like you’re above a human being, than I’ll treat you the way you treat me. Not one human is above another. If you have earnt that privilege than you are granted that only by the people who gave you such power, however they have the power to take it away. That is the true purpose of the second Amendment! In short; “a president is a civil servant to the people of his/her country that he/she has sworn to protect! As such nothing is beneath them!”)

I really wish people would do their homework...

My friend I was talking about earlier; well she’s not only getting on my case about finding a job, but she’s also pissing me off about politics. Her plan is to be an American History Teacher. She wants to teach her class how America was founded on the “Socialistic” Principles we use today and that’s bullshit! We wouldn’t have many of our largest company products that I bet everyone of you see every single day, more than likely every minute of your day.

(For Starters:

Let’s start off with Ford, if America was a Socialistic Society, well then all of you who drive a Ford let alone a car in general, would walk everywhere. If it wasn’t for Ford’s Model T being a Successful test run clearing the way to Model A. Ford’s company could only up from there. (Btw: anyone who drives the VMW Bug- just a little trivia for you did you know that the original design was created by Adolf Hitler himself? Adolf Hitler was the original Designer for the shape of that car the VMW Bug, just a little tid pit I know from Graphic Design School, hope that doesn’t ruin your VMW driving experience:D)

Another one I’d like to point out: McDonald’s, that famous Golden Arches fast food places started as a ma and pa rest stop, now it’s one of the biggest fast food chains in the world! Mickey D’s started again in America! Again how is that possible in a Socialistic society?

Socialism is structured to where everyone is equal... equal pay... equal healthcare... equal quality of living... doesn’t count the politicians! In this system if you work you’re an idiot. Those who sit on their ass get everything handed to them, those who work their asses off barely survive. So why bother putting yourself through that much torture. Because:

No one working:

No power

No cable

No doctors

No teachers

No police

No food

No safety

No security...

Why? This would have been a good thing! This here proves Socialism doesn’t work!

If everyone decided to not work because they’re getting ripped off; than America shuts down! The government is screwed! And so are the moochers!)

Those are only two examples of capitalism being a good thing.

There is so much more... not to mention the feminist aspects like Susan B. Anthony: Voicing her “opinion” by voting for who she thought would be a good president. Of course the judge was going to let her off with a warning because “woman privilege” (woman today would be like okay and do it again), however she, Susan B. Anthony, A Real Feminist, (no Feminist is an insult to her, She a Real Woman, The Genuine Wonder Woman!) demanded she was sentenced to jail just like any man who broke the law! (Please oh please can we do that to these modern, pussies who call themselves women!) The first woman to fly a plane over the pacific Amelia, or the women who rose up against unjust treatment Rosa Parks, I mean come on. Worst of all is, she’s being taught tha John Wilkes Booth was Republican and Abraham Lincoln was Democrat... and it’s reversed. There’s a saying the liberals came up with: “if those damn n$&@€ must vote then they should only vote Democrat!”

My friend has become heartless and greedy, I’m in a fucked up spot because of a malicious brat who played innocent and didn’t understand what happens when you compromise. It’s not one side surrenders and the other gains, but what do I expects from the preppy college school type, (not all preppy girls are mean, I just have this personality that sends the wrong vibes and makes them more territorial)AKA mean girl type... however, this girl demanded everything goes her way or else. She’s from Georgia, yet she comes to higher elevation part and in the middle of the US, it’s winter yet she expects sunshine and beaches? All of us to be drinking out of a coconut? Yes, her hair is blonde at the roots, and she smokes pot in the apartment. Kind of gives you a clue on the person she is. Of and her Boy Toy is always there... when I stayed there. She blamed me for her messes, and her food she didn’t eat. Thing is I hate fish. Well another one to count she has a low IQ from the Mercury poisoning... and here I thought fish helped with brain development.

Anyway, it was hell, so my friend volunteered on the condition that I find a job and move out ASAP. I’m tryin as hard as I can here.

Being told no everywhere I go is very discouraging. I’ve made a gofund me campaign to maybe to maybe help a little... I don’t expect anyone to donate really... if anyone could click the link and share it to a friend they know and spread it around.

By February the only place I’ll be staying is my car on the side of the road... just sharing the story helps. Thank you.

<link>https://www.gofundme.com/homeless-autistic-girl<link>

[heartsofstrangers]

What has been one of the most challenging things you’ve experienced or are currently experiencing?

“I think it feels more challenging currently because I’m focused on it with a new attention, different eyes, and an older brain. I think one of the most challenging things for me in all of life has been can I, meaning me, who I am, not pretending, no barriers, can I exist in this world safely? What I mean by that is can my authentic self, in its soft, kind, compassionate, and artistic way of being, just be without being ripped to fuckin shreds because it feels like that’s all they want to do. You can feel it, the moment you leave the house, there’s this sensation, just making twenty paces out of your apartment, that you’re too soft to be on the street right now. You need to rein it in, stop day dreaming, and get the fists ready. I think that’s been a lifelong thing . . . finding ways, places, and communities where I can be myself and not get ripped to shreds.”

Tell me about some of your first times experiencing that?

“Oh God, it’s everywhere, all day. It’s super pervasive. I’m not paranoid about it and I actually don’t think about it, but these moments will arise and it will hit me. You go to school with purple hair, the teacher and your classmates can’t fuckin wait to tell you how terrible, stupid, or ugly it is. You draw a picture, now I’m thinking of children and adult figures, and literally someone is chomping at the fuckin bit to tell you you won’t make money as an artist, it’s a lousy past time, and where’s your career. I think it’s at every turn we make. You go to wear a skirt, a shirt, color of shoes, fuckin choose a lipstick, they’re the dumbest fuckin things. It’s not that I blame the people who are doing the, we’ll call it, hammering because I think people hammer for a lot of reasons. In fact, I would argue, I have no data to back it up, that the majority of people hammer because someone hammered them and they’re really, really glad to see you breaking the mold and, at the same time, they’re really, really trying to save you from the blow of the hammer because they know it already. I think when people say ‘is that what you’re going to wear?’ they actually love it and they would love to live in a world where that is what you’re going to wear and you’re going to go out. When they say ‘is that what you’re going to wear?’ it’s their fear, I’m not saying this makes it acceptable, but their love for you is their fear for your life so they hammer you because if they do it, it’s better than a stranger in a movie doing it. So, that’s how I feel about it.”

As you were saying that, I could also picture a parent or someone you’re romantically involved with saying ‘is that what you’re going to wear?’ but also in a way that’s going to reflect on them in some way and makes them feel uncomfortable.

“Or vulnerable to danger. Absolutely. Absolutely. I’m 44 years old and I’ve learned these nuances that are in life that you wouldn’t have seen before and you get compassionate. I stress to myself a lot is that in these moments, like you said they’re worried about the vulnerability of themselves, they’re still acting, I’ll call it, mal-aligned, but there’s still such immense love there. I think it becomes tricky because you need to mind your boundaries because that’s still not a kind of love you need, but to be able to still recognize that they care so much, but they’re really frightened for your fuckin life. It counts for something, even though you have to put the boundary up that this isn’t the kind of love I need. I used to be in a place where I felt that clearly they hated me, but now I think love is the backing, it’s ironic in a weird way, of some really wonderful things, Flowers in the Attic, toxic things. It’s a weird paradox.”

For those who don’t know, Flowers in the Attic is the story of a mother who is sick or dies, locks the children in the attic, and the grandmother slowly poisons them with arsenic, but they are able to escape and nearly die in the process. So, tell me a little bit about some of your experiences early on with trying to be who you are in a world that wants to confine you.

“I know it. I’ve learned something, which is nice. I’ve learned that I don’t know if I’m actually capable of being who I am not, and what I mean by that is I think people can go to work and “play the role.” It might be a downfall for me because it seems more adaptable to be able to do that, but I just can’t. I just can’t. At some point, the stitches will rip and it will all explode, and I’ll say or do something. It’s been nice to at least realize I’m incapable of that. I wouldn’t go work for the Catholic church because I clearly know it’s not a cultural fit for me, where I think some people could. They could work the mailroom at the Catholic church and actually be a Satanist, or whatever. Some people can do that, but I can’t. I get called a bitch a lot, but what I think people mean is my incapability for pretenses.

“Experience wise, it’s been a little hard because when you can’t fit in, it makes life hard so you go around trying to fit in and you realize you can’t and, at the same time, I leave every time with myself intact. I don’t fracture because I think that kind of behavior can be fracturing. I’m pure as gold because it is what it is, take it or leave it. The flip side of that is when I do find something that fits, such as my relationships with my friends, I have an amazing, amazing group of friends; it’s a circle of about six people. We’ve literally curated our friendships with each other. I know that’s a strange word to say, but I think a lot of us didn’t have great family things going on. We had an idea that if religion is bunking a family up, you would think the family would choose the family over the religion, but that’s not what happened and that’s when all the problems come in. I feel that’s an easy choice. If we were able to choose your family, and in my mind I believe you are, you can literally choose if the preacher up there is saying something and talking about your kid, fuck the preacher, I’m going with my kid, but that’s not a decision people make. We talked about choosing your family and what that would look like, and we all had similar visions. Each of us is so different, vibrant, we take up a lot of space, and yet nobody feels squished, nobody is silenced, and our values are the same. Any of them could call me at 3 am and, in fact, I would be pissed if I found out later something happened and they didn’t call me at 3 am. That’s the kind of friendship.

“This thing about where you fit and you can be your authentic self, I think you need to curate it. I think it’s a very deliberate curation. I think, this is me and I’m not going to talk for anyone else, I have no problem saying “you’re a no, these are the values I hold, this is what I need to be, this is what you need to be, and if this can’t playout for your or I need to make myself smaller for you in any such way, you’re a no,” and I have no fuckin problem with that. I’ll tattoo it on your forehead ‘you are a no,’ you do not get the privilege of me in your life; if you ever change your mind about that, my table is wide open.’ I won’t settle at all. Like I said, it makes the group small.

Quality versus quantity, right?

“I guess. Fantasy with a capital F with the politics we engage in and the community building we engage in, whole neighborhoods and streets that operate like this. The problem is that I don’t see it happening on quite that a grand scale, maybe a community center, a church, or a school. I wish this kind of community building caught on larger scale. It’s also the kind of community where, have you ever heard of the expression ‘if I had two pairs of shoes and you had none, I have one pair too many’? Is it communism? Not quite, it’s just not, it doesn’t fit the mold.

“Corey, so we just reconnected and it’s been years and years and years. You have no groceries and you’re not sure how you’re going to make the week out. I have some, so you’re welcome to my some, but I also have this group of friends and I’d be on the phone and, by the time you left here today, you wouldn’t leave without enough groceries to get you through the week. What I’m saying by that statement is that it is not okay with me that you, Corey Hudson, are without food. If you said I have no food and I said yeah, that blows. No, literally, I am not alright with Corey Hudson having no food. Can we build larger communities like that? I’d like to. I feel like the best I can do is walk out the door, I’m no priest, I’m no saint, I can be the nicest person you ever met, and maybe if I’m hungry or whatever, I can shred you to pieces where you stand and play in your blood. The best I can do is to walk out the door of my house and be attentive, aligned, in the now, in the moment, really in the moment, I’m not regretting the past, I’m trying my best not to stress over the future. I’m here now, today, in this moment, ensure every pace I make throughout the day, each person I meet, every place I go, I do my best. In other words, to walk humbly by a homeless person and ask ‘when was the last time you ate something?’ Three dollars buys a whole loaf of bread. You can’t sit there and eat a whole loaf. If you at least get him that $3 loaf of bread, which I’m not going to pretend that everybody has $3, some people don’t even have that. If you’re able to do the $3, you get the loaf of bread, it’s something, and then you move on from that. Someone standing on the bus, you give them your seat. If I can move through these moments, sometimes I’m successful and sometimes I fail miserably. ‘Hey, you got a quarter?’ ‘Go fuck off; I’m tired, I just got a bill that I don’t know how I’m going to pay, don’t ask me for nothing, nothing, I don’t have it.’

“There’s a game I like to call Steal from Peter to pay Paul, and I lost that game a couple of weeks ago and my electricity went off. I thought I could let it go longer, I gambled, and I lost. Sometimes I scramble and hustle. Thank God, I’m a successful hustle, and it all worked out well. There was that day, I was holding that fuckin letter that it’s going to happen and I was just trying to come up with a game plan, having a cigarette on my balcony, and this dude asked me for a cigarette and I told him to go fuck himself, I didn’t even have electricity, don’t fuckin ask me for nothing, and he said ‘oh, I’m sorry’ and went away. Within five minutes, I thought that didn’t go well. But, for the most part, I try to do my best as I move through the world. Co-creator of this universe, they say, and I just try to create a world of my liking.

I think what you’re describing so eloquently is something I practice too, and I think it’s been how I move through any of my careers I’ve had, “to see a need, fill a need.” If you have the capacity to fill a need you see, don’t wait for permission to do it, you just do it. That also requires boundaries, which I think ties into what you were saying about being hungry or you not having electricity and this snap reaction of fuck off, I can’t help you when I can’t even help myself, of knowing when we have a well that is overflowing and when giving would deprive us of our own very basic needs. I think there’s something to be said for this mentality if we all could move through life with paying attention to what the needs are around us, what our own needs are and what we have, and if we could all give a little bit of something to each other, we would have a much richer, much more connected, kinder community. I think whether that’s happening on a friendship community level like you described the six people, a church, a school, a town, or a neighborhood, it kind of radiates out, and we know that’s what is missing in our society today with the one or two percent of the population.

“It became so clear with the fire at Notre dame. So, oh my God, everybody said there were all these homeless people, we need health insurance, yadda yadda, and Notre dame happen and, within twenty-four hours, four billionaires came together and raised x billion dollars, they had it all along. They’re like the image of a dragon, licking the pile of gold that no one can fuckin touch.”

Yeah, but the pile of gold, I think we talked about this a little prior to the interview and you eluded to it a little bit in the interview, attaining the things you desire and that you think are really going to serve you and bring value, purpose, and meaning to your life, whether it’s a sense of security, your stuff, a relationship, a car, a house, a career, you find that when it’s just you with that stuff, it has no value. It’s just greed and becomes a prison in a sense, like that dragon who’s in a cave with his treasure, isolated, alone, miserable, and angry. It’s when we share that it then has value, meaning, and it brings purpose to our lives.

“I had a really nice moment . . . as you know, I’m starting a new job tomorrow, that’s going to be amazing and I’m going to do well. There’s a woman in this building, who lives down just a bit, and the neighbors have been gossiping, it’s a small community, she has been without electricity for a week or so. I’m actually looking forward to my first paycheck because I think I’m going to slide $300 under her door, unmarked, cash, and let her decide what to do with it, but I can’t wait until that first paycheck because the longer I wait, the longer that she’s in the dark. I’m excited. I like to put, it’s literal this time, my money where my mouth is. I believe in these things I say and I do them. I don’t want her to know that it’s me, I want a plain envelope, all twenties, under the door at 1:00am so I know she’s sleeping. When she says, ‘someone put money under my door,’ I’ll say, ‘how weird, I gotta go to work.’”

That leads me to something that’s important in this idea of being kind, helpful, and seeing needs and filling needs, is compassion. I think, for instance you, having your experience of your electricity being shut off, you know what that feels like, you have empathy, you have compassion, you recognize when someone else is struggling and you know what that feels like, and if you have the capacity to help them, compassion moves you to take some action. I think that is a beautiful quality in much of humanity is that when some tragedy happens or when someone’s chips are down, if we too can relate to that experience or empathize in some way with the suffering or pain of that, we’ll step in. The problem is a lot of times we don’t have to wait for a disaster to happen.

“Or relate.”

Yes, or relate to something.

“There’s a lot happening, especially law wise, with trans things and abortion things. I don’t know . . . I’ll never know what that decision-making process is like. And, I’m also not trans, so I’ll never really know what it’s like to look down and feel like you don’t fit with what you see. I don’t fuckin have to. The thing is people who are experiencing those things are saying this is what I need. I’m never going to fuckin have an abortion, but what do you need? Oh, I need this; fine, I’m going to go in a booth and fuckin vote for this. You’ve literally told me what you need, I don’t fuckin need to understand. I don’t need to wrap my mind around anything; it’s a no brainer. I think it’s interesting because we can both act, like you said, we’ve both lived and experienced a thing, but to be able to act without is equally important.”

Yes, because on any level, we’re all human beings and we all have very basic needs and whether the experiences are the same or not, the emotions, the oppression, and the repression is all the same. So, how does this tie into authenticity, which is what you talked about, finding the space where it’s safe?

“It’s funny that you bring that up, I wouldn’t have thought of it. Things weren’t so hot in my childhood, and they really weren’t so hot into my twenties with family and stuff like that, cultivating healthy relationships, etc. I would say there’s a lot of narratives. Some I had taken on from outside and some I had created myself, of who I am that were really untrue. It was brought to my attention, thank goodness, because I have good friends, from people outside of myself, that they weren’t true. The narrative I think I had made, and probably with good reason, I mean you don’t do things without good reason, even though it’s not a good thing to do, there’s still a reason, was that I was mean. I would cut your throat. I’ll destroy you. I will literally rip you from limb to limb. Don’t mess with me. I have claws. There’s that narrative because when people do mess with you, they actually get that. From their perspective, you are a fuckin bitch because you’re being nasty, but the things my friend would say and bring to my attention, despite not wanting to, because that’s how shadow work works, we don’t want to acknowledge this thing, that fuckin bitches don’t slide $300 under their neighbor’s door. Fuckin cunts don’t buy groceries for the homeless. I say, ‘no, no, no, I’m mean and nasty’, but I’m not actually nasty; I’m actually quite gooey.

“When it comes to authenticity, in a weird way, it comes full circle, knowing that I’m gooey, it comes around to can my gooey exist in this world? I think it does, it does really well, and it does for those who want it to. Either you’re going to get the gooey, and gooey is good, or you’re not, and that’s really unfortunate because gooey is good. In the process of learning who I really am and not needing the armor, I’m not saying to walk through the world completely fuckin naïve, you don’t need to be so armored up like you’re untouchable. In learning how to do that tightrope walk, I tried to think of a metaphor or an analogy, but I couldn’t, but walking through the world like I had two hands behind my back and, depending on what presents itself to me, it’s either going to be flowers or an axe. I hope it’s flowers. That is how I get to be authentic. So far, so good.

Is authenticity dependent upon someone else’s capacity to receive you?

“No, well, I think authenticity is paradoxical, in the sense that I think when alone, there’s something authentic already there, there’s a core, a part, a thing. Now we’re getting real deep into the psychology or anthropology of it. Can we discount our own consciousness as the other? I am authentic in relationship to someone, but I’m authentic in relationship to myself, which I just thought of because I was initially going to say even alone, there’s a core there and then I think there’s also a piece that’s relational. I think we’re also relating to ourselves. I would argue that authenticity, I would even say existence, let alone authenticity, requires relation.”

You alluded to some challenges in your early years. Would you mind elaborating on those a little bit?

“I can tie it in, in the sense that for some reason my family, single mom and brothers, were afraid of me. What I mean by that—I can’t get at the why, I’ll never know the why and I’ve long since stopped pretending to read people’s minds. That’s a very good lesson to learn in real life. If you come home and you say she said hello like this, do you think she’s mad? Just fuckin stop, she just said hello; hello is all the data you have, so just stop, Madame Cleo stop trying to read minds. So, I’ll never get at the why, and we don’t have a relationship now to ask them. They were afraid of me, by that I mean, I might mean a lot of things. Being a child of my decade, was it so drastically different? It was the electronic age coming and I was the first one in the family to have a computer as a child. Was I that foreign to them? Was the thinking processes of my decade so drastically different that they couldn’t relate? There are a million different avenues I could go down. I kind of always, like I said I have a hard time pretending to be something I’m not . . . I just am. They’d find me up a tree and I’d have some fuckin shit, brambles on my head, was it all too much? There’s a lot connections and I’m going to go back to something I said earlier, you choose. If I had a kid and that’s what my kid wanted to do and as long as no one’s getting hurt, including themselves, then I love it, I just love it because they’re my kid. No further analysis of that is required.

“I think we talked about it, but it became the thing of get that off your head, get down here, why are you behaving like that, why are you painting, painting is for girls, it’s a girl color, why do you like it? I couldn’t just be. A very unfortunate thing can happen, when you do that to a kid, it doesn’t get out and gets repressed, but you can make a new kid, and I’m not saying it’s a good one, you can brandish a new kid with all that locked in this little box. I’m thankful because my family was my first lesson in it doesn’t matter what people say, as long as it’s what you know. It’s unfortunate that I had to learn that from my family. Years later, being gay and whatever, it sure as fuck came in useful. Someone would say “hey, faggot” and I’d say, ‘Please, that’s all you fuckin got.’ It is unfortunate because you shouldn’t learn how to let abuse roll off like duck feathers from your mom. Lesson learned, it was good. So, I guess that’s what I mean when I say things weren’t good.

“I can remember between ages ten and fifteen, I started to plot my exit plan because I realized this is not where I wanted to be and looked around and realized other people’s lives didn’t look like mine and I knew I had to go, and I went.”

Where did you end up?

“I left home really early, probably too early. I’m in my forties now, so when I look at anybody under the age of twenty-two, I call them kids; they’ll probably get mad. I can’t believe I left. I left home at sixteen the first time for about four years. I was still in high school at the time and homeless. I was outside Stop & Shop, the people were really nice because I was young, I’m white presenting. It was a different era, the police never harassed me, but also I was never disrespectful. I’m well-read and well mannered. I was quiet, with a sign, they’re either going to throw money in the bucket or not. During the day, I went to school and at night, I did that.

“It was a different time. Do you know those doors to the cellars, that open double? We have those in New England, and if you try a few of them, you’ll find they’ll open, maybe not in 2019. Garages were also easy to open. I could always find a place to sleep in someone’s basement or garage, and always made sure to get out and go to school in the morning.

“I met a very colorful group of folks. It was a flophouse with lots of drugs, but their hearts were in a good place, and that has to count for something. I think that’s where it began, truth be told, now that I look back because anybody who was flopping there, you were not allowed to go hungry or unclothed. It was just not allowed. I think it was my first taste, during my informative years, of what it looks like to take care of each other.”

So, you’re sixteen, in high school, you’re homeless, but found someplace to flop.

“Yes, finally found a place to flop. But, an interesting story, because it’s what popped into my head. I didn’t team up with anybody, and maybe I should have. It probably would have been smarter. I was on my own, making things happen. One night, the blackest of nights, I opened the double doors, went down into someone’s basement, and I usually liked to camp out right near the doors so that if I heard sounds and someone was coming, I could get out quickly. When I went down there, I found someone else there. It was a girl and she was down there, and it took me a moment to realize this wasn’t the person of the house. When I entered a house, I expected the people in it were supposed to be there except for me, so it was strange to find this other person, and she had the same thing going. We didn’t make a team. We didn’t become a fabulous duo. We just had the one night, but it was a nice night.

“I found this flophouse and I came of age in it. I finally got a real job and worked at McDonald’s because that’s about all I could do at my age. And then I had to learn how to use money because coming from a house with no money, you don’t get a lot of lessons about budgeting and how money works because there’s none to teach with.

“It was later in life, in my early thirties, my Saturn return, that I was really able to look back at my family for the holistic picture of who they were. What I mean by that is I really only knew this nasty, choking, abusive, clenching, snap, break, hammer, repeat, snap, break, hammer, repeat. Because I had become an adult, I now had big boy needs, big boy bills, a car, an apartment, it was then that I could sit and think if I was my mom, look at the space I’m living in, it would be me now, holding this pile of fucking bills in my hand and a 7-, 5-, and a 1-year-old. When I go grocery shopping and it costs $40, I’m like oh my God, and the 7-, 5-, and 1-year-old. I have forgiven, but haven’t forgotten. I was able to understand that with no assistance, she didn’t remarry or chase men. It’s unfortunate my mom was not able to have me in her life. The reason it’s unfortunate is because we’re so similar that we would be so perfectly matched. When you’re a child, you have your mom and in adulthood, they become your friend; that’s the ideal. We would be so perfectly matched as friends because I’m super smart, super independent, super loyal, super cunning and crafty, and a little mischievous; all these qualities that my mom was.

“When I was younger, about five years old, I was being a little shit, this was the 1970s, I think we were in fuckin Russell’s, they don’t even exist anymore. This dude kind of gave me a shove, he shouldn’t have because you don’t touch other people’s kids, because I was acting up and bumped into him. My mom, who’s all of 5’4”, 130 pounds max, we were in the hall of the restaurant, she came swooping down that hallway, I was still facing her, she was Lilith, there was just a fury. She put one hand on my back so she could cup me to herself and, with the other hand, she knocked the man in his face and knocked him on his ass and said ‘if you ever touch my fuckin kid again, I will fuckin kill you’, and she meant it. I can be a little like that too. I have all of her qualities, so it’s really unfortunate that we don’t have a relationship.

“Here’s two things because I really need to stop. There’s a geometric shape, it’s the shape of the shell. They say our solar system moves this way. We think it’s the sun with all the planets going around, and it is but even as it is happening, it’s moving, so it isn’t like this, it’s like this. I have to stop telling my stories like this because it escapes me, but I will circle back to say I wonder if she saw so much of herself in me, and her life was hard. She didn’t know what else to do. She knew she moved through life the way she did and it just bashed the shit out of her so if she could make a different person, it wouldn’t happen. To tie it all in, in my thirties, I was really able to examine my family in this way and I’ll call it forgiveness work. I forgave them, I can’t say I excused it and I won’t. I was able to objectively and affectively realize the pressure points that created the people that they were and the pressure points that I kept hitting with my existence.”

How did that shape your relationships following your teenage years?

“I haven’t had a ton of luck with romantic relationships. Sometimes it’s nice to revisit situations and ask if there’s anything you could have done, and maybe here and there a little bit. There was my first one, and they’re so lovely because they’re your first one, and you don’t even remember to acknowledge that they can end because it’s your first one and you think ‘this is it, forever’ and it wasn’t, but he taught me a lot. He taught me a lot about what care feels like, so I appreciate that I got a first one like that, and I’m old enough to know that not everybody does. Then, there was one who moved away. I don’t know how I feel about that. He moved away to do some school/career things, when we were in our twenties. I literally let him go, and I knew in that moment that I let him go. I would never tell someone to stay here and don’t do this career thing. I don’t know if I could do that and live with myself, and then the long distance broke us up. There was another where he asked me if we should have an open or closed relationship, and I said that I could go either way and asked what he thought. He said he wanted to have a closed one, I said that I could do that, and then he cheated. If we had not had that conversation, that exact fuckin conversation, I would have stayed and worked it out. But, we literally had a conversation where I said you can fuck anybody you want, what do you want to do, and he said not that, and he did that. So, I said I gotta go, I just fuckin gotta. I gave it to you on a silver platter.

“Relationships haven’t been super; there have been a lot of small ones. I can make it sound like I’m quick to cut, but I don’t think I am because I won’t cut without a conversation or plan. We can make a plan; I have said ‘hey, you seem to be fuckin drinking a lot, let’s see if you cannot do that and see where were at in six months.’ If in six months you’re still drinking a lot, it’s a cut. There’s been small ones, three months, six months, nothing that’s been rooted, I’ll call nine months the root. It’s been tough because I can be a lot. I said to a friend of mine, they’re bias because they’re a friend of mine, it’s really easy to date me because I don’t demand a lot, and they said Dominique, you fuckin demand everything, and I said thanks. And my friend said that what he meant was that I literally demand everything - they need to show up, be their authentic self, and they need to really peel it open so I can peel it open too; that’s everything. They don’t need to have a car or wear suits all the time, but what I demand is everything and for some people, they can’t do it. You need to be in a place to do it, you need to feel safe to do it. So, there hasn’t been anything.

“I also move through the world not thinking about it. I can be lone wolfish, but not so lone wolfish that I’m completely isolated. I can certainly keep my own company and enjoy my own company, and I have no problems with that. I’m a cat person. I realized the other day, I feel like I’m in a place, physical-plane wise, but also mentally and emotionally, that I think I’m ready again. Before when something came up, someone might tell me I was very attractive, let’s go out to dinner, and I would be like if I’m not doing anything, sure. I’m certainly not going to be ‘marry me’ to the first person that drives by slow enough. I bring a lot to the table. I’m super grounded. I’ve done a lot of the inner work of learning who I am, what makes me tic, what shadows and cobwebs there are, and also immense successes. I know myself in all my parts, and that’s a really good place to be when you’re looking to make a life with someone. I don’t feel like anything is missing. I may want something from them, but I need nothing from them. I feel like I’m in a really good spot to take on somebody and not have it be all complex. What I mean by that is it’s not full of complexes. I’m not lonely. I’m not doing it for financial reasons, or to feel attractive. I’m literally bringing someone into my life because life can be more fun and joyous when you’re a team. That was nice to realize, but I just don’t think about it. So, to even haven the thought, lots of things happen when I’m smoking in the bathroom. That’s when I have my epiphanies.

“The other day, I was super busy and I was on a bus. It was kind of a long ride. I was in a back corner seat, because I like to stare out the window and do my thinking, but I also drink coffee, smoke cigarettes, and do a lot of thinking. I’m a thinker, except with a cigarette. I hadn’t realized it, but all of a sudden, this dude, not too far away from me, said “what are you doing?” What had happened, unbeknownst to me, sometimes you can think and think and get really in, and you run on autopilot, which can be nice at times, but sometimes it’s dangerous because you don’t realize you’re going to walk out into traffic. Autopilot isn’t always great. Because I was thinking, drinking coffee, had time, and was looking out the window, I had autopilot pulled a cigarette out of my bag, had it in my lips, and had the lighter lit, and was about to light up on the bus. I had to snap out of it.”

You talked about arriving in your thirties to a place where you were able to look at both yourself and your family in a different light. Tell me about what your twenties looked like. I would imagine going from a situation growing up where you felt that you were trying to be groomed to be someone that you weren’t into a situation where you had thrust yourself out into society in a way that you didn’t have your basic needs met could have led you to some coping skills or into some situations that were dangerous.

“My twenties were really turbulent. There’s something kind of pressingly important I want to stress because I came to realize it just now because these are specific questions. I clearly speak with my friends all the time about times that I haven’t thought about all at one time. My twenties were extremely turbulent externally. Although the external looked super turbulent, internally, they were less turbulent. What I mean by that is growing up with the family that I did, realizing that I just am who I am, and it’s just never going to happen with these people, so I left. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was. It wasn’t perfect. We all pull in these narratives that get directed at us. Of course, there was some level of shame. There was some level of whatever, but I had never bought into it, is what I’m trying to say. I knew that it was targeted at me, but by the age, I knew the world was targeted at me. In my twenties, I had been in the gay club seen since sixteen or seventeen years old. It was at a different time, I don’t know if they let minors in anymore. Things have gotten weirder and more conservative. I knew full well what others thought of me, but I also knew what I thought of myself was not the same, and I think that’s super important. Thank God for it because if I had bought into it, a whole lot more work would have had to have been done. If I had internalized it, I’m not saying that it didn’t get onion-skinned in, but it had not penetrated. My twenties were super turbulent. How did it manifest? It manifested in, it’s hard to explain, destructive behaviors that I knew were destructive that wouldn’t destroy me, but would destroy the external. I’m going to tie this into something psychological in just a moment because I just had an epiphany.

“I just had the thought that we go through these stages, I don’t mean to adhere to the whole Freudian thing, of our development where we world test, and I think one of the stages is learning to test the creative and destructive powers of our human self. I don’t think I had normal stages growing up because they weren’t nurtured and so now that I had been out of the house for a few years, what manifested was this destructive experiment testing of the outside world of literally I’m checking matter at this point. If I treat this person this way, what happens? If I don’t show up to work, if I walk out of the job, if I throw this TV off my balcony. It was a real scientific experiment. It wasn’t can I get myself so high that I wake up in a ditch, I never came this way. It was what can I do in this world. The thing that’s important to remember, for me anyway, is I didn’t exactly have super great familial relationships and I wasn’t old enough, like I am now, to build crazy, amazing friendships. I knew that I was hurting other people and I cared, but not enough to stop the experiment. I’ve long since forgiven myself; it was a different time. I don’t carry a lot of baggage with me in life. I’m pretty clean, is the word I use.

“My twenties were spent destroying a lot property, sabotaging a lot of jobs, sabotaging a lot friendships, and not being good to people. It wasn’t like haahaahaa I hurt, and now you hurt. That’s not the spirit it was done in. It was more scientific; I went into science now. My brain must work in a scientific way. It was really like that fetal position, when you break someone. There was a science to it. Maybe I should not do that. Oh, if you walk out of your job, they won’t let you come back, so maybe I won’t do that. I know now what happens when I do X, so, in the future, I can X with a contextual outcome that I want to happen. It was like learning boundaries and power.”

And consequence.

“Yes, and consequence. Also knowing that some people move through the world doing that same thing, but they’re enjoying it because it wasn’t super enjoyable. I can’t say it was a joyous time. It was a learning time and like “wow, I can effect change” time, but it wasn’t ‘I feel superb.’ You don’t feel superb when you’re tearing everything down. There was a bit of that, a good portion of that was part of the reason why I left home. It just couldn’t happen. It was already happening. It was wild times and things that I did. I’ve had a very long life. I’m lucky to be alive, and I am alive, and that’s how my twenties went.

“When I was about twenty-eight, I had broken away from the old gang, not a lot of contact with them, and I had a new set of friends. I was doing these things, and I thought that I got all I need out of this. I wanted to see if I could take who I was with my family, who I left that to be because this sure as fuck isn’t dead, and this thing I am now and see if I can Russian-Doll style it to superimpose on each other and make something that isn’t going to eat its own tail and eat itself, and they did. They just did. Maybe I’m lucky. I’d say I kind of got my act together by age thirty-three. I had a fantastic job, relationships were what they were, my boundaries were good, my mental capacity was good, critical thinking was good, and capacity for love was good. All those things you think ‘please God let me grow up and know that I will love something else’, and I did.”

It sounds like your adolescence was a period of trying to be groomed or molded into something that wasn’t you. Your twenties was kind of a stripping away of that, just tearing it down.

“I probably didn’t get a normal adolescent period. I think ages nineteen to twenty-six I would have done that from ages fourteen to seventeen, in a normal household. You break the door, you jump off the roof onto a skateboard, it’s a thing we humans do, which is why kids drive us so crazy. At age fourteen, they’re leaping cars and throwing bottles off roofs - material world testing. I didn’t get it until my twenties. It’s unfortunate because you’re smarter, craftier, and more destructive in your twenties. You can really ruin a life at age twenty-six in ways that you can’t at age thirteen.”

True. It sounds like you didn’t ruin your life.

“No. My self-preservation is strong.”

Along this journey, I know there’s a lot of components to your experiences, thought process, and your reconciling your stages of development, what are some things you’ve learned about yourself over these years that stand out?

“Some of the things I’ve learned are I really adore myself, I really do. I’m quite an exquisite creature and I’m pleased. I have a profound capacity for love, human beings, animals, the world, and the universe, like deep love. I’m super compassionate, really creative, innovative, and a problem solver. I’m also super resilient. Everybody has a plate, we’ll call it, that they can carry things on. My plate is sturdy, man. I’m definitely not weak. I’m super motivated. I’m a visionary and what I mean by that is I set visions and then I move towards them. I’m not one to be “I don’t know what I want to do.” I fuckin know at all times what I want to do, and that’s the direction I’m going. If the car is going this way, you can be in it and go this way, but my car is going this way.

“It’s been complicated. I think it might have been what led me to anthropology. There’s a really complex brain up there, and one of the things this super complex brain is good at is what I will attribute to pattern recognition. How this manifests is almost like the sight, but I’m not going to claim it as “the sight,” but what I’m going to claim is the my brain digitizes, archives, and files so cleanly that after the thirtieth time of seeing something, it can see it coming. So, when I meet someone and they’re like hey, I already know or yes, let’s see. It’s life-saving so I’m really glad I have that. Something will happen at work and I’ll say ‘I think it’s going to go like this’ and you can never fully be sure. It’s always good to test, but be ready if it goes like that. I think it’s just ones and zeros, not down here, but up here. So, I’m grateful for that. I’m something.”

You are something. It sounds like you’ve also acquired the ability to trust that kind of sense of recognizing patterns and being able to trust yourself.

“I trust myself above all others. I do. I had an experience when I was in my thirties where I taught myself to do that. You’re going for a job and your first instinct is to call your friend and say ‘oh my God, I’m going for this job, what should I do? What should I wear?’ It’s not that your friends aren’t good to bounce ideas off of, but there’s something special that happens when you call no one and you do it alone. The voice you’re checking in with is your fuckin own. Now I do both. I check in with myself and my friends, if I wish. There was a moment where I realized I never checked in with myself. I knew what I wanted, but I never just sat with a problem in my belly and solved it single handedly. I think it’s the majority of what I do now.”

How has that changed your life, or not, by moving towards checking in with yourself?

“I don’t know if it’s changed my life. It has definitely changed the way I operate in the world and the universe. I feel like a God. That’s what Gods do. They make decisions and make things happen. I had a friend who recently entered my life who has, I don’t know what happened. Some friends you travel with all the time and others you kind of loop in, then you’re gone for a few years, and then you loop in and pick up where you left off. The last time we looped in, he came back like an addict. I don’t know where it came from. This was a two glasses of wine at dinner kind of man and suddenly he came back as an addict and had lost everything. What I told him, is what I realized, and this will tie in, is that I’ve watched, I think he has forty days sober, and he’s fresh, soft, and vulnerable, him struggle through addiction and not use. He asked me to be his sponsor and I told him no, that I thought he needed an official sponsor who’s actually been an addict and has done the thing, so he has a sponsor. Of course, I’m his friend, so I can be there as a friend. Watching him, as his friend, go through this thing and not pick up again, and you think we’ll have a good day, but it’s like a minute to minute fuckin thing. He got his thirty-day chip and I told him that watching him battle and overcome his addiction has literally brought me closer to God. What I mean by that is I’m not crazy religious, but I believe there’s something, there’s a spark of it in every single one of us. To watch him do what he’s doing and see the strength, resilience, and grace that it takes, if I believe what I say I believe, then what I’m seeing is the resilience, strength, and power of God, and all things in the universe.

“When I say that I make my own decisions, what I’m learning about myself and the universe is the power. It’s almost the flip side of the coin or maybe the light and shadow have finally made gray on me. In my twenties, I think I was trying to get at what I get now, and what I get now is the power of existence to decide and manipulate matter and create. I’m just really grateful for it.”

Yeah, right. In that way, we are God.

“I think God exists in our relationships and nowhere else, if truth be told.”

In terms of relationships, we started this interview talking about authenticity through relation to ourselves, and it sounds like you’re been able to arrive, cultivate, and maintain that space within yourself where you are honoring who you are and you’re not abandoning or neglecting that space in any situation.

“I feel good about it. What I’m really excited about and I firmly believe that if we’re no longer learning we’re either dead or should be, or have already; we’re just the walking dead. So much has happened, lost and gained, more gained than lost. You never know when your time is. On human assumptions, I have another thirty or forty years to go. So, I’m really excited to be here and know that thirty years are behind, and this is what has happened. I can’t imagine what will happen when I’m seventy, and I’m really excited for it.”

Do you have a favorite quote, mantra, song lyric, or something that someone has said to you that really resonates with you that you’d like to share?

“I do. It comes back to my mom. Like I told you, we’re super similar, even though we don’t speak. The line is ‘know your own story.’ The reason I say that is I would tell my mom, ‘These kids at school said this or that, or whatever,’ and she would say, ‘Is it true?’ I would say no, but people believe it and she would say, ‘Yeah, and that will completely fuckin happen, but it doesn’t matter about all of that, you need to know your own story, really KNOW it because if you don’t know your own story, people can say things like I think you’re not being very nice and you know that they’re incorrect, or that you’re very irresponsible, and you know that’s not true.’ Or, the adverse, if you really KNOW your fuckin story, someone can say I think you are being petty and you can say, not that I’m going to stop, but I think you may be right. Nobody tells you you’re fuckin story and that can go for good things, too. How many times in life does it happen that somebody says, ‘oh, you’re so forgiving, I love it’ and what they really mean is you’re letting everybody fuckin walk all over you. Really it’s more like ‘no, I’m really not so fuckin forgiving, if you ever do that again, you’re done.’ So, ‘know your own story.’”

That’s really powerful and it definitely brings us back full circle to authenticity because I think that is what the crux of authenticity is - knowing your own story, honoring it, respecting it, and not buying into what someone else is trying to tell you what your story is because that is part of the narrative that we then adopt into our thinking, the way that we perceive ourselves, and the way we portray ourselves in the world around us.

“Yeah. I was really young, nine or ten, when she said that. She taught me a lot. She taught me how to be a woman in the world. Do you know what I mean by that? I’m clearly male and identify as male. Oh, your mom is a single mom as well? They just operate different because they have to. It’s not because there’s something intrinsically different about women. It’s because the game is rigged differently and it takes different strategies to be a women. When she was a parent to me, where a dad might say ‘you got to throw the football,’ my mom would say let people think that they’re super smart, like your boss, let them think they did something for you or they fixed it. Maybe not so much now, it was a different generation. I think those games, or navigation and strategies. By the time I came of age, my teenage years and into my twenties, I wasn’t a feminist, I hadn’t read feminist literature or anything like that, but I saw women as equal, and I also knew what it was like to be a woman in the world. It’s just interesting.”

It’s interesting that you brought that up, because I had a father growing up who was not really present in much of my life, even though he was there and would sleep there. I’ve always respected and admired women. They are, for the most part, the ones I turn to for a sense of power, strength, knowledge, and wisdom because of the way they operate. Those who do step up to the plate and bring forth a movement or their own authenticity or artistry in some way, I have always been captivated by that. Even though I’m male, I think there’s a very big part of me that is feminine, and I believe that we all have that sort of ying and yang. While growing up, I felt similarly being bullied or confined with terms like faggot, homo, fem, or things like that, those qualities were kind of diminished. I’m grateful now that they still exist and they’ve been honored. I’ve definitely taken some twists and turns of exploring what that meant to me, of who I was, and how I identified with that. I’m so grateful there are strong women who are being authentic, showing up in this world, and there are men who respect that and are not threatened by it, because I think that creates a lot of the decisions we were talking briefly about, like abortion. If we can consider that we don’t need to empathize with, we don’t need to have a uterus and we don’t need to have breasts or whatever to have been oppressed, and say that’s a valid need. The world would be a different place if we could look at the needs that are coming up, whether it’s acts of violence, which are forms of communication of needs.

“I’m curious what the fear is. We’ll never know because they’re not going to confess. They must look at resources and things as like a big pizza. What is it, a zero sum game? If I give this slice to you, I don’t get that slice, and they’re not looking at the pizza holistically. When someone says they can’t go have an abortion, but if you want to go have one, that’s completely fuckin yours and your alone fuckin decision. I don’t have to have one. For people unable to do that, I’ll always be curious what are the synapses firing in their brains at that moment.”

I think in a lot of ways the fear comes back to if I open myself up to this possibility then that brings every other belief and stance I’ve taken in my life into question, and I’ll have no solid ground to stand on. I think many people find security, as isolating and miserable as that can be, they find some sense of security on that platform and behind those walls. I think it definitely comes down to that—if you open yourself up to this thing then everything else comes into question.

“Correct. It just implodes.”

It’s necessary. In order for the rebuilding of something new, the whole thing has to be deconstructed or delaunched. I haven’t seen you in about twenty years, I come to visit you, and propose that you’re not only going to catch up with me, but you’re also going to open your heart and your mind in these ways to share with a broader audience. How has it felt to talk about these thoughts, feelings and experiences with me today?

“Um . . . it’s multi-level. On the one hand, I can be sappy and nostalgic. I got a lot of porcupine prickles but, at the same time, extremely almost maudlin, sappy, and sentimental. I say I like to spiral over familiar ground, so I’m always spiraling in, getting something new, spiraling out, and applying it to life. It’s been nice to spiral over these years again, revisit some things and see if there’s anything that’s still pulling me down, see if there’s anything that needs cleaning, erasing, or do I have a new outlook on things.

“To know that it goes to a broader audience, I’m old enough to know, at this point, that maybe in different nuanced ways, someone out there has, does, and will feel as I do in life at various stages. Ruth Benedict calls it the great arc of human potentialities when there’s a lot of things—variability. There’s someone who feels as I did when I did at sixteen, when they’re sixteen, when they’re forty, or felt it last week. I know someone will hear this and someone may say I have no idea what this gentleman is talking about, but then I think someone will. I think my stories lend an ear to queer people, disabled people, people of color, and people who are different. But, really they’re not different, that’s the thing, they’re perfectly well within the arc I spoke about, but somebody with power may make their lives miserable for it. That’s really what it is. Let’s say I’m swimming in the ocean and a five-headed turtle approaches and wants to play, maybe not everybody, but my new thought is nature accommodates five-headed turtles, and it’s as simple as that because there it is. Hopefully, someone will hear it and be positive, get some nuance from it on how to tackle something that they’re thinking about. Even if it’s just entertainment, as long as someone hears it and thinks something. I don’t have to dictate what they think, just something, anything.”

Awesome. Thank you.

“Thank you.”

[dead-gay-bitxh]

Overwatch: Screenwrite | WIP

My script for Overwatch’s pilot episode so far! It’s only about a third of the way done, but I think it’s still pretty good! And yeah, I focused on the disbanding of the original Overwatch first. 

SuE mE pLeAsE.

If you think there’s something I could do better, please message me! And if you just want to share your thoughts, message me! Keep in mind that this is more of a spec script (script written in the hopes of it being bought by a producer) rather than a proper script with camera shots and everything, so it may be a LITTLE barebones, but it’s roughly 10 minutes of screentime. What more do ya want? ;)

Without further ado...enjoy.

PS, forgive my weird capitalization, my format does it for me so I kind of got lazy.

CUT IN: UNMARKED BUILDING – AFTERNOON – WIDE A conference room, dominated by a single ovular grey table and surrounded by mostly occupied seats. At one end, a woman in a business suit is speaking and gesturing at a holo screen behind her. At the other, two men sit side by side, though they pretend to ignore one another.

UN REPRESENTATIVE

So the PETRAS Acts will bring Overwatch, and by extension Blackwatch, to an end, though it will leave room for reinstatement should it be necessary.

REYES

Right. We're fired, and if you need a 'get-out-of-jail-free' card, we'll be picking the lock, then.

MORRISON

Reyes! Hold it. 

REYES laughs, humorless and indifferent to MORRISON’s disciplinary tone.

REYES

Or what? As it is, we're getting fired in about ten minutes. 

MORRISON inhales deeply, turning his head to regard REYES.

MORRISON

That's not what this is about. This is about-

REYES

Yeah, yeah, pretty boyscout getting his last picture. Must be a damn shame. 

Bitterly scowling, REYES turns away from both MORRISON and the UN REPRESENTATIVE, watching the clock on the wall with mild interest. The clock reads 4:12. REYES and MORRISON exit the room at 5:25. Though they walk together, they are both tense.

Reyes

(Under breath)

This is a crock of shit.

Morrison

How? Because you can't accept that what you've been doing is brutal and unnecessary? 

REYES doesn't respond. REYES turns down the next hallway. He continues until he reaches a lounge room (WIDE) with several plush chairs, tables, and coffee machines. REYES starts one up and waits for it to warm up.

Angela

Oh! Gabriel! I didn't see you. 

Turning his head, REYES sees ANGELA, seated at a table in a lab coat with a tablet in front of her. REYES grunts in hello, then turns back to ignore her.

Angela

Gabriel? Is something wrong?

Reyes

Yeah.

Angela

...What is it?

Reyes

Take a stab. You'll hit something, I promise, even with your lack-luster aim. 

ANGELA fixes him with a playfully mean stare, but quickly realizes that something is wrong.

Angela

Where's Jack? 

REYES stares at the counter, hands curling into fists to keep from shaking.

Reyes

Probably out trying to soak up his last bit of PR before Overwatch kicks it.

Angela

Gabriel, you know he's-

reyes

You know, Ang, for as much as everyone loves reminding me how he's /not/ like, he sure likes to prove you all wrong. 

REYES turns, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring with an ironic grin.

Reyes

How often has boyscout talked to you about this in the past six months? Huh?

Angela

Gabriel, please. You know this is harder on him than the rest of us.

Reyes

I have a hard time believing that. Tell me, how many Blackwatch agents have you treated or buried for every Overwatch agent? 

ANGELA is stunned into silence

reyes

Figured...

The coffee machine dings, and REYES goes about pouring himself a cup. MORRISON walks through the halls, then stops suddenly.

Morrison

What the hell am I doing...? 

MORRISON shrugs off the blue long coat he has been wearing until this point, slinging it over his shoulder. He eventually stops and enters a nondescrepit door along the hallway.

Morrison

Need a shower. May as well enjoy my last day as Strike Commander. 

MORRISON moves towards a door off to the side but stops halfway there. There's a knock at his door. MORRISON groans but keeps it quiet, opening the door.

Un representative

Strike Commander Morrison, how are you doing?

Morrison

Peachy. To what do I owe the pleasure of such a visit?

Un representative

We're currently reviewing the PETRAS Acts one final time, and we'd like for you and Commander Reyes to be present for it. 

MORRISON appears less than pleased.

Morrison

Understood. I'll find Commander Reyes immediately. 

He puts his long coat back on, smoothing it out before walking back down the hallway he'd come from. As he walks, he starts to shake his head.

Morrison

(MUTTERING) Always have to babysit Reyes. He's a grown-ass man, why can't they find him themselves? (LAUGHS OUT LOUD) Because they're damn scared of him, that's why. Can't say I blame them, though. He's a scary son of a bitch. 

MORRISON turns into the lounge room, REYES and ANGELA giving each other hard glares. Appearing mildly uncomfortable, MORRISON knocks lightly on the doorframe. ANGELA raises from her seat.

Angela

I'll take my leave then. I assume you need Commander Reyes, Jack? 

MORRISON nods and ANGELA leaves, REYES glaring at her back as she goes.

Reyes

What is it, boyscout?

MORRISON

The UN's going over the PETRAS Acts one more time. They want us there to oversee it.

Reyes

(scoffing) I've been fucked over by the UN enough for one day, Morrison. I'm not going to watch them recite the god damn transcript of how they're going to shove their collective foot up our asses. 

MORRISON sighs, tentatively taking a few steps into the room.

Morrison

If I can't get you to go, you know they'll just come get you instead. 

REYES gives him a hard stare.

Reyes

Is that you threatening me, Morrison? Or is it you with the UN right behind you? 

REYES sips the coffee in his hand, staring out the long window. MORRISON is quiet, restless.

Morrison

Gabe, I-

REYES

Piss off Morrison. I don't have any desire to talk to your sorry ass. You haven't said a word to me in the past six months worth paying attention to, so how's this any different? Go look over our execution orders, why don't you? 

MORRISON takes a few steps to close the distance, but then abruptly turns and stalks out. REYES grumbles over his coffee, which he dumps down the sink nearby.

Reyes

Damn cabron and his stupid boyscout mission... 

MORRISON sits while the rest of the UN debates over the document displayed on the holo screen, occasionally highlighting a line and revising it.

Un representative #1

Change the wording here...

un representative #2

No, don't do that! It's strict enough, if we need Overwatch again, we shouldn't have them be arrested for it.

Un representatitive #3

Yes yes, but we can't allow them to reform without our consent, so... 

MORRISON rests his cheek on his fist, staring blankly as the politcians continue bickering. His eyes are glassy, unfocused, until a scraping sound shakes him out of his stupor.

Morrison

Ang- (CLEARS THROAT) Doctor Ziegler.

Angela

Oh Jack, they won't notice. They didn't even see me come in. MORRISON and ANGELA share a laugh.

Angela

How far have they gotten?

MORRISON

I think they're trying to work through what to do about Blackwatch. It is quite the shit-show, I tell you.

Angela

...Jack. I'm worried.

Morrison

About?

Angela

(HUFFING) Well Jack, what have I been telling you I've been worried about for the past year?

Morrison

Angie, I don't have the time to deal with him.

Angela

You used to have all the time in the world for him, you know. Even after I came into Overwatch, I can remember, vividly, how you two were practically inseparable. Why do you continue to let this spiral, Jack?

Morrison

Because he's not interested in anything I have to say. He's paranoid, Angela. Hasn't stopped going on about leaks in Blackwatch since he started getting on to it after Jesse left. If he doesn't want to listen to reason, it's no fault of mine.

Angela

Jack-

morrison

Doctor. That's enough. ANGELA sucks in a breath, then stands.

ANGELA

Understood sir. I'll be on my way.

ANGELA walks out, perfectly straight. MORRISON waits until the REPRESENTATIVEs become immersed in revisions to silently make his leave. A few agents in the similarly styled blue of Overwatch or black of Blackwatch nod their heads at him as they pass. REYES comes along the hallway, knocking purposefully into MORRISON with his shoulder.

Morrison

Hey! Reyes!

REYES

What, boyscout?

Morrison

The hell was that?

REYES

What are you even talking about? All that time sitting around doing paperwork making you soft, Morrison?

Morrison

Gabriel, can we talk for a minute?

Reyes

Why in hell's name should I listen to you, Morrison? You haven't wanted to listen to a thing I say in the past six months. I guess it makes sense though, doesn't it? You don't give a damn while I'm pulling your dead ass weight, but as soon as you start to slip off your pretty golden boy pedestal, you want to drag me down with you.

Morrison

Gabriel, it's not that! I just-

reyes

You just /what/, Jack?! What the hell are you so damn bent on talking about?! You've been entirely dickish to me since we lost Ana! Even before then, you've been nothing but a fucking ass to me while I've been hauling everything on Blackwatch! 

 REYES is visibly agitated, hands shaking, curled into fists.

Reyes

I'm getting sick of listening to your petty political bullshit, Jack! But hey! We don't have to worry about that again, do we? Because YOU (JABS FINGER ACCUSINGLY) WON'T GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS FOR MORE THAN TWO CONSECUTIVE SECONDS!

Morrison

Reyes! Stand down, now!

REYES

Not likely, buttercup! I've had just about enough of your dumbass dumping all your shit on me!

Morrison

Oh come on, Gabe, like it's always about you! You've been interrogating people that have nothing to do with us!

Reyes

They have everything to do with us!

Morrison

You have been interrogating your own god damn agents, Gabe!

Reyes

Because you won't fucking listen to me, dipshit! 

Both men are snarling at each other when the building shudders violently. The two look frantically around, then the floor caves in beneath them. (CLOSE-UP) REYES groans, dust falling from him as he gets to his feet.

Reyes

Shit... What the hell...? (LOOKS UP, GLANCES AT SURROUDNINGS) Jack? Jack. Morrison! (PUSHES AT DEBRIS) Jack! Jack! Jack! Jackie! Come on, you ass, I'm not done ripping you a new one, damn it! 

From a few meters to the left, MORRISON pulls himself from the rubble, thoroughly covered in dirt and soot and blood.

MORRISON

Christ, Reyes, you don't give up...

REYES

Neither do you, boyscout. C'mon, up. 

REYES puts his arm around MORRISON's shoulders, hoisting him to his feet.

MORRISON

Shit, what happened?

REYES

I don't know, worry about it later.

Morrison

Gabe, there's innocents here, we need to-

reyes

Jack? Do me damn favor. If nothing else, as a parting gift. Alright? Shut your dumb ass mouth and let me work.

MORRISON sighs, doing as REYES asked and keeping quiet. They limp through the destroyed building, picking through the ashes.

Morrison

Gabe?

Reyes

Yeah, sweetcheeks?

Morrison

I... I should've let you take this damn job.

Reyes

Jesus Christ Jack, it can wait. 

Ticking starts. REYES looks over, spotting a bomb. He pushes MORRISON behind a giant chunk of concrete, and MORRISON falls with a grunt.

MORRISON

Shit! Gabe, what're you doing? 

As REYES opens his mouth to speak, the bomb detonates. CUT TO: black screen. The word 'Overwatch' fades in.

[demonic-lionfish]

I am seriously so sick of seeing people who bitch about the exploitation of people by capitalism in any scenario readily devouring blatant pandering to their demographic like they're Galactus ~

Fucking seriously though use your gotdamn brain/critical reasoning skills if you claim to have any at all, y'all the type to tell religious fanatics that they can't pick and choose, when y'all gonna see that capital is God to the Western secular population (rly the West as a whole)? Not saying this to damn religiosity, as I'm very religious, but to point out some Real Shit™ here y'all!!!! Who cares how amicable their marketing teams have made them, corporations and any businesses that aren't worker owned ARE part of that machine Tom Morello and those of us with our heads outside our rectal cavities are referencing!!! Y'all out here trying to talk about corporate money in politics with the adults but turn right tf around and worship at the cult of convenience and familiarity!! Who tf you think funding all them bougeios crooks??? Just bc it ain't your favorite label directly writing $hillary Clinton or Mitch "turtle-ass" McConnell or whoever they checks don't mean they don't benefit from the policies that agribusiness, oil, and anti-labor lobbies enact with their blood money! Yeah there is no ethical consumption under late stage capitalism, but that don't mean you gotta revel in that mud like the pigs you claim to hate!

Anyways y'all bootlickers finna be among the first to the wall when the revolution comes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

☭ 🤗

[fijimurmaider]

I just really need to gripe about my annoyances right now...

And mainly because the only other person I can speak with about this topic is probably worn out. 

But WHY THE FUCK DO THESE TRUMP PEOPLE KEEP THINKING THEY ARE ALLOWED TO START TRUMP SHIT WITH NON-TRUMP SUPPORTERS? I’m speaking about my family FUCK IT. 

My sister sent me a message last night asking about what it’s like in DC and I went a little off the wall because I really like it there and think anyone who is capable should take a trip. 

Well then she says “I want to go to Capitol Hill, maybe I’ll see Trump!” 

Like yeah, because Trump really wants to fucking see you. Or as if you’d just see him out and about in the area. 

Then it turned into how America will be great, which first off, GAG I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF THE PHRASE. Then I had to set her straight “First off, Obama isn’t so terrible, you survived, please fuck off” type of thing. Then I explained to her that I’m not so down with capitalism and yes, that means ya boi Donald Trump. I tried explaining to her that just because he’s not a politician doesn’t mean he’s not corrupt. He’s a god damn businessman and he’s good at lying JUST LIKE A POLITICIAN. 

She’s not having it. 

Then she brings up, and I shit you not “those niggers get everything!” and how she’s be scared of going to DC because she’d get shot down by BLM. 

God, bitch just go fuck off and don’t speak to me again with this shit because all I did was share that Bernie Sanders WWE thing and there it came. 

First off, she used to fuck black people and do drugs with them. Now she’s too good. They’re greasy, they’re thugs, they lie and are rapists (when the QB of her favorite NFL team is a 2 time rapist... and he’s white..) Secondly, she’s not so much better than these people she complains about “these god damn blacks and liberals!” Because none of them work and lay on their ass having kids as excuses. What? Wait... she does the same. She refuses to work because she has kids and uses them as constant excuses but she won’t even pay for their fucking gifts at Christmas because SHE DOESN’T FUCKING THINK SHE SHOULD HAVE TO. 

This is all the Trump supporters I know.

Black = BAD. Job = YOU SHOULD GET ONE BUT I SHOULD NOT.

Food stamps should only be used by good, hardworking white people BUT ITS REALLY HILARIOUS WHEN WHITE WOMEN ARE ALREADY THE ONES MOSTLY USING THE SYSTEM AND ABUSING IT. 

That’s not my area to judge, but in my personal experience, yeah I know many more white women who abuse the system than does any other race. 

So it drives me nuts. I told her last night that I don’t think BLM is about hating white people and that I see where they’re coming from. I tried to be really nice and also slam it in her face that she’s a fucking idiotic racist and really, I’m god damn horrified for the kids in my family because of who they’re being raised by. She hasn’t said shit to me since. Well. Don’t bring that shit up with me. You already KNEW I fucking hated Trump and I posted about it twice that day. You uneducated fucking nitwit. I cannot BELIEVE I AM RELATED TO THESE HATEFUL MONSTERS. 

Then my mom, who previously hated Trump has been so brainwashed as to care what that pompous fuck even says. 

I truly, deeply resent and mildly hate them all. The only thing that keeps me around is the poor children who I don’t want to take after them whatsoever. They’re so fucking ignorant and evil. 

Like, I’m glad they got into politics, but unfortunately ALL BECAUSE YOU’RE RACIST, SEXIST FUCKBAGS.

White trash, dude. I’m related to white fucking trash hypocrites. 

Then there’s the dumb cunt who posted about how the  country is dying and the world is evil and that she will never have another kid until it gets better, then BAM PREGNANT AS SOON AS HAIRPIECE WINS YOU FUCKING IDIOT GOD DAMN YOU FUCKING FOOL.

She also posted about how she was, in short , “part of the 30 million woman march when she marched to a voting booth to vote for Trump.” Fuck you, you fucking imbecile. Everything about the precious fucking fetuses that no one cares about once they pop out the pussy. 

No one fucking cares about reproductive health. No one actually cares about babies. Everyone cares about restricting a fucking uterus IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE. 

Bitch, if I was evil as they are, I’d wish ovarian cancer on those cunts, but guess what? I don’t wish bad shit to happen to people just because I don’t agree with them like they do.

FUCK I HATE THESE SON OF A BITCHES.

And seriously, if my sister comes at me with trump shit again, I’m going to lose my shit on her and call her out for all she does, screen shot the nasty shit she says, tag all of her former black friends and file for an eviction notice on her ass. The only reason she’s there in the first place is the kids. But maybe she needs a wake up call. You want other people to work for what they’ve got? Maybe you need to get up off your judgement fucking ass, douchebag. 

UGH I AM FILLED WITH RAGE AND I REGRET MY OWN FUCKING BIRTH. I SUPPORT ABORTION BECAUSE GOD DAMN I REALLY WISH I WAS ABORTED ABOUT RIGHT NOW.