#i am truly running from the past tripping on the now etc etc

[blush-and-books]

three years ago soulmates dropped on our screens

[wheneclipsefalls]

Grovel Part 2

Pairing: Aged Up Lo'ak x Fem Omatikaya Reader

Part 1

Summary: Lo'ak needs a plan. A plan that will bring you back to him.

Warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, lust, pinning, angst, past relationship, mentions of war, injury, etc.

“Stop whining.” Neteyam groaned, watching as Lo’ak secured another tie around the fabric’s base. The kelku was coming together nicely. 

“I didn’t say anything.” Lo’ak all but huffed, lips turned downwards in the same fashion they had been since the celebration. He adjusted the straps of his loincloth, a trail of sweat racing down his spine. Oh how he already missed the refreshing waves of salt water. 

“Your expectations were truly far too high, brother. What did you think she would do?” 

Lo’ak shot him a seething look, one that warned against pushing it further, but brothers were immune to such limits. 

“You’re lucky you made it out of there without injury. And now knowing what you did I can’t say I would have blamed her otherwise.” 

“Yes Neteyam, I understand. Now can you shut up and help me lift the other end?” Lo’ak stomped past him, preparing the right side to be lifted. He didn’t wait for Neteyam to join him before using his own body weight to heave the heavy fabric into place. The younger Sully brother had been hyper fixated on his kelku since their arrival, even going as far as asking Kiri for advice on potential decoration. 

This home had to be good enough to meet your fancy, an objective that he now understood to be much harder than originally anticipated. 

“Mawey, baby brother. I am only trying to get your skxawng ass to understand.”

“Okay then fine!” The fabric was dropped to the floor in a heap. “Tell me what I should do. Since you know the ins and outs of wooing women, tell me how I am supposed to win her back.” His brows lifted, hands placed on his hips as he feigned bracing for his answer. Neteyam was not fazed by his younger brother’s outburst. After seeing Lo’ak’s restlessness the whole trip home in anticipation of seeing you, he was surprised the male was holding up as well as he was. 

“I may just be a simple gentleman, bro, but I think an apology would be a good place to start.” He squeezed his brother’s shoulder, surprised when Lo’ak was too lost in thought to bother wrestling him off. 

“I’ve tried. Everywhere I go she is avoiding me. I don’t even know where her kelku is or her routines. Otherwise-”

“Maybe I can help with that.” 

Lo’ak sent him a skeptical look.

“What?” He deadpanned. 

“She has a sister, right?” A completely rhetorical question that had Lo’ak knowing exactly where Neteyam was going with this. “Say the right words and maybe I can get some valuable help from Talu.” 

“Wow. How did I deserve a brother like you?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone as he ran a hand over his face. It was no secret that Neteyam had taken a liking to Talu. The future Olo’eyktan was neither bashful nor shy when it came to playing the golden suitor. 

Neteyam simply grinned before slapping him on the back and helping to hoist the kelku side once more.

You were impossible. So hard headed and stubborn that even knowing your route and home was not enough to get in a good apology. He was sure by now that Talu knew of his intentions with you, that giddy smile forever present whenever she announced his presence to you, but there was always an excuse to cut things short. Only a few minutes and you would be running off to aid at the healer’s tent or pick up the hunting gear you had left behind. 

There was no end to the list of excuses you could formulate.

And it didn’t matter that neither himself nor Talu were fooled. You simply weren’t inclined to put more effort into hiding your disdain. 

Lo’ak couldn’t remember you being this difficult before. When the two of you were younger you had handed your heart over to him on a silver platter. Of course your weird friendship had been full of teasing, pranks, and insults but that was only part of the fun. Once romance had been initiated, you took everything he gave with warmth and affection. 

And he had ruined that. 

He let out another sigh, trying to play it off when his mother gave him the side eye. His new bow was almost finished, surely the right weapon he would need to fetch an impressive kill. Perhaps he would use his spear too just in case. If he was going to win you over, it would need to be something extreme. Something that said all the words you would not let him get out. 

At this point he was willing to take down a Palulukan if that is what it took. 

He snorted at the thought. It may have been a few years since hunting on Omatikaya soil but he knew that thing would have him torn in two. Maybe then he would get your attention, whatever remained of his body finally being enough to crack your tough composure. 

And then….

What started out as a ridiculously funny thought transformed into a new idea. A new plan. There was in fact one place that you could not run away from. 

The healer’s tent had been slow in mid afternoon but luckily you were the only one on duty. When he walked through the tent flaps reverently, not bothering to hide the wince as his freshly torn up skin brushed the fabric, your lips parted. For a moment it seemed that concern swam in those beautiful eyes but then they were turning back into cold steel like that night at the festival. 

“Kind of underestimated the swoop-”

He was cut off by your stern point to the space in front of you. He followed obediently but on the way he couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over your exquisite form. He had meant what he had said that first night. You were more beautiful than the day he last saw you, a goddess-like creature even his wildest dreams could not have imagined. 

Today you wore a turquoise top made of small beads that were strung together to hang like vines. The color reminded him of the waters in Awa’atlu. Could that be your favorite color now? If so, he knew of so many places such gems and shells of that color. He could collect more for you. The beads mocked him, however, as their light weight cover just barely fell over your pretty nipples, one breath away from revealing the prize. 

Hell, he was sure the right puff of air from his lips could push away those teasing beads. 

As you began to work on applying ointment to his wounds Lo’ak forced himself to look away. However, he couldn’t find reason to not occasionally peak back and get a look at your pretty face. By Eywa, it was a true miracle that no one had snatched you up yet. Maybe he would thank the Great Mother for that gift at the Tree of Souls later. 

At one point your diligence fell and strayed from the wounds to glance at him instead. He flashed a grin, one that didn’t match the state of his bloody back. You shoved his head to look forward roughly but he had already caught a glimpse of your rosy cheeks. 

“You got injured how again?” 

“Flying error, it’s been a while. Why?” 

“No reason.” 

Silence fell and Lo’ak had to keep himself from fumbling with his messy bun. You may be difficult now but one thing was still true. You always wore your heart on your sleeve. 

“You don’t have to be worried, sevin-”

A sharp smack to the back of his head and Lo’ak couldn’t hide his surprised laugh. 

“Damn, you’ve got a pretty good backhand.” 

“Hush. I am trying to concentrate.” 

It was sure to be a lie. His wounds were nothing in comparison to what you must have encountered during the war and with your experience you would have him healed and out in a few minutes. But then that meant he only had a very small window to squeeze this apology into. 

“Don’t worry, I will behave.” He raised his hands in surrender but received only a little hum from you in response. “But while we’re here there is something I’ve been wanting to say.” 

Lo’ak hissed when the ointment was applied harshly to his deepest cut. It was nothing he couldn’t handle after so many war wounds but it did manage to lose him a few seconds of precious time. Had that been your intent?

“When we were kids I was…an absolute skxawng.” No argument came from you and Lo’ak glanced back from the corner of his eye. “I was more than a skxawng actually. I was reckless and angry and I didn’t even think about how my actions would affect others. Especially you and-”

“I don’t care. It is done.” Without Talu’s presence there was no incentive to dampen the ice in your voice. 

“Y/n,” He called your name softly, turning to grab your wrist and stop the movement. “I am sorry. I never should have hurt you like that. I knew better, especially….” He let out a deep sigh through his nose. “Especially considering how much I truly did love you.” 

You yanked your wrist back as if his grip was red hot. Scrambling away slightly, he could see the control you had over the moment slipping. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to push it further, get you to accept his apology. 

Unfortunately for him, Eywa must have decided that it was also the perfect time for the next healer to enter the tent. 

“There were hardly any herbs left by the river. Next time we try the mountains instead.” Penyau said, the smile on her face slowly dropping once sensing the tension in the room. 

“Great. Lo’ak needs patching up, sister.” 

“Oh, well then-”

“No, no. Y/N is already on it-”

“I’m passing you over.”

“You truly don’t care to finish healing the Na’vi that was put under your care?” Not the angle he wanted to take, but he was panicking. So desperate to get a few more minutes with you that he had to stop himself from using his grandmother as a scapegoat to keep you here. 

From the way your jaw clenched and tail curled he knew those cards would not have played well for him. 

“Talu is waiting. I leave.” You gritted out. Not a second to make another attempt or ever apologize before you were past the threshold and leaving him in the dust. Or at least, leaving him with Penyau who looked confused but more than happy to assist him. The smile she gave, however, did not hold the same sweetness as yours.

Or at least the smile he remembered from all those years ago.

He prayed he would see it again soon. 

A part of you wanted to insist upon staying home. Well no, all of you wanted to insist but if there was one thing you had learned from working with Mo’at is that there was no hope in defying her. If she saw it fit to bring you to the council meeting then that is exactly what you would have to do. Jake Sully was back as Olo’eyktan and with that came his sons’ attendance too. You were not foolish enough to hope otherwise, but there would surely be others there you could occupy your time with.

Even Tarsem had become a close friend of yours, as close as a clan member can dare to get to an Olo’eyktan, but conversation would be light and easy with him. If you were lucky perhaps you would be able to leave the meeting early as your sector of concern was far more narrow, giving you a chance to escape the inevitable small talk afterwards. 

Luck, however, was not on your side. It seemed that Mo’at had deemed you her scribe for the meeting and that meant taking up every single detail presented. It was borderline impossible with the way Lo’ak’s eyes constantly strayed towards you. You’d think the male would have the decency to keep his staring at a minimum for public appearance.

Of course Lo’ak had never been afraid of attention.

That trait evidently had remained with him after all these years. 

“Morning shift can circle northbound while overlapping with the afternoon watch.” Jake continued, using a twig to draw over their makeshift map in the dirt. It felt like he was speaking another language with the way your brain refused to concentrate. Jake might as well have switched into English with the rate you were comprehending. 

“Lo’ak and Neteyam will be available by the end of the week once everything is settled in.” 

You were so lost at this point it wasn’t even funny. Mo’at was going to have your head. As if sensing your confusion, the younger Sully brother said softly, “yes, for teaching.” 

It didn’t clear things up much but Lo’ak had decided to start tying his hair back up into that damn bun again and you found yourself more dazed than in the beginning. Out of pure will power you resisted the urge to watch him dead on, unlike him. Watching those biceps stretch as he worked to wrestle those braids was still possible from your peripheral. 

Another twist in your stomach. 

Lo’ak relaxed backwards, long legs stretched out in front of him as Jake Sully continued his long speel. The meeting could have dragged on for centuries for all you knew and yet that twisting coil in your stomach never loosened. You felt like you were about to snap when the Olo’eyktan finally called for dismissal. 

Up to your feet in a matter of seconds, Mo’at shot you a strange look. The tips of your ears burned as you tried to play it off and wait patiently for her. The meeting may have been over but that didn’t mean you were meant to leave her side. Most likely she would have other work for you to accomplish this afternoon and even if not it would be rude to not walk your Tsahik back to Home Tree. 

“I’ve got it, grandmother.” Lo’ak easily switched Mo’at’s basket over to rest on his own hip. She gave him a nod and pat on the shoulder. 

Swinging the netted bag of herbs and medicinals over your shoulder you focused primarily on the path ahead. 

“Let me get that, sevin.” Lo’ak reached for your bag but with flaming cheeks you barely managed to deflect his advances and snap away. 

The effort was pointless however when Mo’at gently grabbed the bag from your shoulder and handed it to him. An almost imperceivable smirk graced her lips at your perplexed expression but otherwise she remained silent. Slightly baffled and now avoiding Lo’ak’s unrelenting attention you veered to pick up the pace. 

Now that he held your bag hostage there was no choice but to let him follow you both back to the healer’s tent. At least that’s what you thought until….

Mo’at let out a tired sigh and that was all it took for Lo’ak to insist she go home and get some rest. He assured her he would get the supplies back to the tent and walk you home safely, both actions that made you glare at him over her shoulder. The Tsahik, tired or not you couldn’t be sure, bid you farewell and gave her grandson another gentle squeeze to his shoulder. 

The second she was out of sight you went for your bag. Lo’ak easily swiped away from your grabbing hands.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” 

Despite his warm smile he was only met with unspoken annoyance that seeped into the atmosphere’s tension. If he wanted to walk you home, fine, but you were going to get it done in record time. Without another word you scrambled up the nearest tree, deciding to take the overhead route to avoid traffic. 

You could hear the clanking bags and basket as Lo’ak had to find ways to follow behind with only one arm to propel himself upwards. You secretly resented the way he managed just fine, despite the obstacle, long legs rushing over branches like they had only left the forest for a day.  

“Is your plan to avoid me forever?” 

Teeth grinding together you grabbed hold of another branch over head and propelled yourself up the next level. This time was more of a struggle, several vials almost falling out of the basket but that only earned him one concerned glance before you were striding forward once more. 

“I meant what I said yesterday. I truly am sorry.”

“Yes, I heard you.” The tempo you set with your feet borderlined running. Lo’ak’s struggle became ever more apparent as the two of you scaled higher. 

“Well yes I know that…shit!” A vial slipped from the basket, Lo’ak immediately lunged to catch it. You carried forward, trying not to think about how he almost lost the precious herbs that took you weeks to find and gather. “Got it!” He called but you were already several branches above. 

With this head start you may just be able to outrun the Omatikaya prince and make it home safely. 

Distant curses sounded from below followed by scrambling feet. 

When will he ever give up?

It’s hard to say what Lo’ak did during his time with the Metkayina but you were surprised, and slightly displeased, to see how capable Lo’ak had grown in his tree climbing. Although, now he had found a way to shimmy himself up a trunk with only his muscular legs to aid. The sheer athleticism required to do such made your head spin and cheeks heat.

Straight home. 

No detours. 

“Y/N, wait up.” 

He was closer than you would have liked, no doubt a result of your short attention span. 

“Come on, sevin. Does your determination to ignore me really warrant all of this?” 

Your temper was always an easy one to flare and when it came to Lo’ak Sully it seemed he had written the manual on how to light that flame. Turning on your heel, Lo’ak had to grind to a quick halt in order to avoid running into you again. It felt all too familiar to the celebration the other night so this time you spoke before he had a chance to get a word in. 

“Maybe so, but what does it matter to you?!” Nostrils flaring and breathing heavily it was no longer possible to hide how fast the male had gotten under your skin. 

“It’s admittedly more difficult to court a woman that won’t even let me be in her presence.” 

The savage words on the tip of your tongue stuttered and your treacherous body rippled with excitement. 

“You aren’t courting me.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s fair. I technically have not initiated courting yet.” 

“No Lo’ak, you will not court me. Ever.” Words like unbending steel the male’s eyes locked with your own and this time you found ways to not balk under his attention. When it seemed that nothing else was going to be said you turned on your heel once more. 

And then Lo’ak finally spoke. 

“I don’t see how you could stop me.” He murmured gruffly but the words immediately struck your temper like daggers. A bullseye shot. 

“Lo’ak Te Sulli-”

“Sevin, just listen for two seconds!” 

“Do not call me that!” Your voice hitched into a higher octave. 

“I’m sorry I just-”

“NO!” Your shriek echoed over the branches. Heated venom coursed through your veins. “You push and push and push but I am sick of hearing it!” More words threatened to fly free but your heart was already pounding at your ribcage. Stay one more second and you were sure to find yourself saying much more than you ever cared to.

“I’m not going to give up.”

Those bubbling truths refused to be swallowed any more.

“You say that now, Lo’ak, but just wait. Soon you will grow tired of chasing after me and when you do there will be a plethora of women waiting at your beck and call. Just like before there will be another woman to entertain you where I could not.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes blew wide and tail dropped to the floor but even then it would only be a few seconds before he made another pleaful attempt. And you couldn’t take any more of that. Those golden eyes covered by his signature two braids already beseeched your forgiveness far too easily. 

“And once again you will go to her.” 

He called your name as you left but you were already scrambling to safety. 

It was going to take a grand gesture. One that would prove his loyalty to not only you but every Na’vi in the clan. Your forgiveness was not going to be an easy thing to win over but that was okay. Lo’ak had dealt with far worse for so much less. Enduring some verbal bashing and humbling circumstances was the least he could do to win the woman of his dreams. 

And yet…it still hurt. 

The way you shut him out, not letting him learn even a morsel about the girl he had been missing for years. How much time had he spent imagining your reunion? Perhaps all of his dreams and hopes had clouded his sense of reality because now he stood here with only a shattered fantasy left. He had fooled himself for too long, thinking the past could be something swept away with the turning of time. 

He had wounded you too deep for that.

So much deeper than he had ever let himself accept. 

With a heavy sigh Lo’ak commanded his heart to settle. Today he could not afford doubts to plague his mind. Everything from here on out had to be intentional, had to send a message. Your discerning eye would be sharper to him than any other potential suitor that would court a woman. Each move would be assessed and either take him closer or further away from holding you in his arms again. 

He checked over the supplies one more time, finger slipping into the pouch attached to his loincloth. Everything was in place.

“We can’t be late.” He reminded Neteyam, messing with his bun until he was satisfied with the way it sat.

“Someone is eager.” Neteyam's lips curved upwards as he leisurely took another bite of yovo. “Usually I am the one rushing us out the door.” 

“Things can change. I can be responsible too.” He shucked Neteyam’s bag over his own shoulder, ready to leave with or without his brother. 

Neteyam rolled his eyes, heaving himself up from his seated position. 

“Yes but what good is it without her here to watch you do so, baby brother?” His fingers barely touched Lo’ak’s braids before the younger brother was swooping away and swatting at his arm. The death glare sent his way only made a deep chuckle rise in Neteyam’s chest. 

Neteyam’s jesting was all in good fun but Lo’ak was far from in the mood to look at things that way. Over and over your words from the other day had echoed in his head. Your tone was drenched in steel cold enmity but even that couldn’t mask the pain that was seated in your golden orbs. His own childhood recklessness had put him at this point and now it was all he could think about. 

Setting things up for today’s lesson, however, had helped. It gave him an outlet, some way to use these swirling emotions and put them into something useful. Lo’ak Sully was not one to give up easily, no matter what you said. 

Gun to head Lo’ak would not be able to recite a word of what his brother spoke as they walked to the lake’s edge. The pounding of his heart was far too loud and it seemed his attention didn’t matter anyways when Neteyam’s own was easily captured by your sister. Without so much as a goodbye, he stalked towards the female Na’vi and left him behind. 

The rocks were littered with various warriors and clan members in his age group. His father had thought it would be best to keep it within a demographic that they could relate to, make these lessons more personal. And yet Lo’ak had never felt more out of place. At one point in time these people had been his peers but things had been so different then. A time that was hard to remember, like a distant dream. 

Only the memories of you had not been tainted with the passing of time. He blamed all of those days at the reef where his head had been filled with thoughts of you. It was hard to forget the one his heart longed for. Even his fling with Tsireya could not erase the mark you had left on him. 

He finally caught sight of where you were perched next to another warrior. 

Your eyes only skimmed over him for a second before turning away.

You thought that it was only a matter of time or opportunity before he would be swept away and wooed by another. Perhaps if you were right things would be so much easier. And yet the tug of his heart always brought him back to you. His inability to move on was not from a lack of effort. 

So many one night stands and summer flings only for every single one to feel hollow and robotic. 

You couldn’t have known that, however, and it was Lo’ak’s job to find a way to prove it to you.

There were a million different excuses you could have conjured up to avoid these lessons. Some of them had almost slipped out this morning as Talu babbled on about how excited she was to see the eldest Sully son. However, you were mature enough to face the hard truths. Coping out now would be negligent to your duties as a useful clan member. If Olo’eyktan found it vital that the next generation learned about underwater diving then it was your responsibility to add those skills to your arsenal. 

It had been a couple days of successfully avoiding Lo’ak and now it seemed such a shame to break the streak. You refused to let those pesky thoughts bother you today however. You were her for one purpose and one purpose only. Master the art of free-diving and return to your new found peace and quiet. 

Naturally Lo’ak was greeted with quite the welcoming party, Na’vi females coaxing him over to hear about his travels. Rolling your eyes you prayed that Neteyam wouldn’t catch wind of your sour demeanor. All your worries were for not. His charming smile never strayed from your sister. Talu was skilled at putting up a calm front but you knew her well enough to sense that she was bubbling from the inside. 

You were going to hear about this conversation all night. 

Relief was temporarily found when the lessons started and instruction was finally given. The water was cool against your heated skin and you enjoyed the way it made your hair dance. Drill after drill you struggled to hold your breath longer. It felt as if your lungs were about to explode as you tried to suck in more air before plunging in again. 

Lo’ak and Neteyam would demonstrate then invite the crowd to mimic while they inspected and instructed along the way. It helped that you were not the only Na’vi who had no natural inclination towards these talents. Many came up to the surface choking on water and pushing hair from their face.  The lake looked more like an active river with the pulsing waves and splashes that emitted from every corner.

You had to give the brothers credit. No matter how ridiculous you all must have looked they never let themselves show visible signs of judgment or even laughter. 

It was far too easy to find Lo’ak in the midst. Even underwater he moved with a grace and calm that seemed so unlike him. It felt as if the water swirled to make way for him. He moved in sync with the pulse of Na’vi-made waves, cresting over them like a dance. Muscular frame floating through the abyss, he was a work of art among flailing limbs. 

He looked relaxed enough to fall asleep. His descent deeper was treated like an afternoon stroll. Your own dimming supply of air faded into the background as you found yourself swimming down after him. It was hard to keep up. Every long stroke of his was at least four of yours and still it felt as if that distance only grew with every passing second. 

He reached the bottom with one last kick, fingers carting through the various stones that lay there. Your brows furrowed as his own expression remained unperturbed. Finally a small smile broke loose when he caught hold of one rock in particular. It shimmered even in the daylight and Lo’ak made quick work to tuck it into the pouch at his side.

The first convulsing of your empty lungs was what broke you out of the trance. Lo’ak and his rock hunting was completely forgotten as your body screamed for oxygen. Now your turn to flail helplessly, you clawed towards the surface. Your lips pressed together, trying to focus on not giving into the urge of letting water in. 

How had you gotten so far down here in the first place?

The water’s surface looked so close and yet every kick only seemed to make it further away. It was an optical illusion that had your fear spiking with every second you couldn’t take in air. You hardly registered the strong arm that wrapped around your waist until your convulsing body was flying through the water. 

It was a miracle your own legs didn’t tangle with Lo’ak’s as they kicked out, but he had both of your bodies plunging upwards at a speed you could barely register. It seemed that your lungs simply could not get enough oxygen when your head finally broke through the surface. Your lungs still convulsed and your throat seized at every gasping breath.

“Just breathe. Nice and slow.” His deep voice tickled at your ear. Na’vi parted as you were floated over to the nearest shore. “There you go. In and out.” 

It seemed like a simple instruction but your body refused to snap out of panic mode. Fingernails digging into his forearms you tried to dislodge the residue water from your lungs. One arm under your back and another beneath your bent knees, Lo’ak easily carried your shaking body onto shore. He sat down, gently settling you between his parted legs while cooing encouragement. 

“Just focus on one breath at a time. Come on, do it with me, sevin.” His chest inflated against your back before slowly exhaling. You followed his lead. “That’s it. Try to breathe from here.” He placed his palm against your diaphragm. Eager to diminish the embarrassment that was creeping in, you zeroed in on acing his request. 

Breathing this way felt more physical, stretching your lungs to a point you didn’t know they could reach but every exhale brought your heart rate one further step down. 

“Very good.” 

The praise washed over you like a warm flame. Finally it felt as if your body was complying with your wishes, relaxing back against his chest. Your earlier fears of drowning were quickly reshaping to seem as nothing more than overreaction. Relief was sweet.

“Slow your heart.” Lo’ak purred, tucking his chin over your shoulder as he placed one hand over your collarbones. It was dangerously close to where your breasts rose and fell. 

With one swipe of your cupped hand through the water you had successfully catapulted water at his face. You dislodged yourself from his snuggling before sending him a dirty look and stomping off. 

Maybe that trick worked for him back with the Metkayina girls but you knew better than to fall for his charming traps.

“Sister!” Talu shouted, darting past the crowd. You could see in the distance Neteyam standing waist deep in the lake, right where your sister had left him. “By Eywa, are you alright?” 

Talu wasted no time in turning you back and forth in order to scour for injuries. Although still winded you did your best to ease her concerns. 

“Mawey, I am fine.” A sharp slap to the back of your head made you hiss in surprise.

“Then what were you thinking?! Diving down like that without any experience! That was not a part of the drill!” Her nose scrunched in the way it always did when giving you a scolding. 

“I know I just was…checking something…” You trailed off, feeling the heat of his gaze upon the back of your neck. 

“Neteyam says that you’re not supposed to dive like that even after a few weeks of training. We have to start with the shallow-”

“I know! I know!” Your groan only earned you another glare.

“Don’t scare me like that!” 

It was not a new experience to see Talu worked up. With your parents gone she was used to taking over as your caretaker and protector, although you were far beyond the years of needing such things. Regardless she had a knack for worrying. Yet another reason you had elected to never tell her about your history with Lo’ak.

“I am sorry.” It was nothing more than a mumble against her shoulder when she pulled you close. 

“Thank the Great Mother Lo’ak was there.” She sighed and from over her shoulder you could see where he was now directing another Na’vi female who struggled to make it across the space with one glide. 

“Yes, very lucky.” You deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

It would have been rude to leave the lesson without joining in on the following social. Or at least that is what Talu claimed when you tried to retire early. Of course you had ulterior motives for expressing how tired you were but it was not a lie either. No matter how many times you had pushed yourself to suck in greater air, to make it one more stroke, you could never get past a certain threshold. Determination and anger had only swirled higher whenever you saw Lo’ak dance through the water. 

The entire ordeal had left you feeling defeated. The sooner you could crack the code on diving the sooner you could retire from these lessons. There was no denying however, how good the fire’s glow felt against your wet skin. Everyone huddled in a circle around the fire. Talu was more than happy to accept the seat Neteyam had saved for her. 

If it weren’t for the fear of looking over eager you were sure she would have already been snuggled up against him for warmth. Despite your animosity towards the younger Sully brother you were happy to see Talu courted by such an honorable warrior. He gave appreciation and chivalry freely, just in the way she deserved. 

You opted to take a seat at the edge of the circle, sitting close to Panyau. There was great entertainment to be found in the way some of the females slumped in disappointment when Neteyam focused his attention primarily on Talu. It took a hand to your lips to mask your giggle when one female’s tail dropped after Neteyam rejected her offering of drink. 

Lo’ak was not exempt from the same attention, although he strategically placed himself among other male clan members. Perhaps it was all in your head but it appeared that for once he was getting sick of the limelight. It didn’t last for long however because sooner or later the brothers were pressed to share stories from their time with the Metkayina. 

“A full grown Na’vi and he’s never flown?” Matutke questioned in disbelief, many other Na’vi mirroring his same perplexed expression.

“Never. I swear I saw his soul transcend to Eywa at first lift off. Think I still have the mark from where he dug his nails into my shoulder.” Lo’ak grinned, sounding a chorus of laughter through the crowd. 

“He cried almost as much as you did your first time, baby brother.” Neteyam quipped, reaching over to squeeze the back of Lo’ak’s neck. His younger brother glared and rolled his eyes as laughter rung through the forest but he surprisingly didn’t offer a comeback. 

Conversation ebbed and flowed easily among the group, old friends connecting once more. You found yourself even becoming content to sit by the fire’s glow with such jovial interactions taking place. It was nice to take the backseat and enjoy some much needed rest. Even being around Lo’ak was bearable as it seemed he had finally given up on bugging you. 

That is, until things took a turn.

It all started with one of the male’s, Pe’ku, teasing Lo’ak about the new gems and shells woven in his hair. Lo’ak had playfully glared at him as his friend yammered on about how it looked as if he had taken half the reef back with him. 

You did your best at tuning out the conversation when one female jumped in to defend him, talking about how particularly pretty the blue gem in his hair was. Sleep threatened to take over as Lo’ak explained how rare these pieces were, having to dive down to the deepest depths to retrieve them. Eyes rolling and head resting on your bent knees, you prayed that Talu would be ready to leave soon. 

The sudden oohs and aaahs when Lo’ak pulled something from his side pouch were like lullabies to your tired ears. 

And then your tail peaked with awareness. The group had grown silent and the weight of many eyes bore down on you. 

“Huh? What?” You stammered, head finally lifting to take in the scene with confusion. A few giggles laced the crowd and Lo’ak gave you a crooked smile.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” He asked gently.

“What? Why?” The sudden beam of attention surrounding you caused unease to settle. 

Lo’ak gave a nervous laugh.

“Or I suppose I could ask here.” Tails and legs shifted out of the way as Lo’ak came to kneel before you. It was only then that you noticed the shimmering object in his right hand. “I started making this a few months ago, beginning when I first started to have hope of returning home.” 

He laid the long necklace carefully over his thighs. These glimmering pieces were unlike anything you had ever seen and much like the blue piece in his hair, it danced under the fading streaks of the day’s light. However unlike the small piece in his hair these ones tarried among different colors. A kaleidoscope of rainbow that would never stay the same shade for long, prancing with every different bounce of light. Intricately woven into the shape of a bodice that reminded you much of the stretching branches that reached for the sun. 

“It was the first time I had ever let myself imagine what it would be like to come back here. To see you again.” 

The swirling gold specks in his eyes trapped your own wide eyed stare in a vice like grip.

“I thought about you every time I dove down to retrieve a piece. It was the only piece in Awa’atlu that held a flame to my memory of your beauty. Looking at the woman you have grown into today I see that it is greatly insufficient as a comparison.” A short laugh accompanied his last sentence. 

The knot in your stomach flipped into acrobatics that had your heart pounding.

“For now this is all I have to offer as a courting gift. This and my vow.” The four fingered hand that rested on your thigh was warm, sending a jolt of electricity racing upwards. “Never will a day go by without my heart being full of love for you. Never a morning where I don’t ask myself what can be done to make you smile, to bring light into your life.To my dying breath I will protect you.”

It hit you then the specificity of this audience. At the sight of drooping females’ tails and piercing gazes of other males you realized that this was the mating pool. Your peers and potential suitors were all gathered here. And with them, every doe eyed female that had chased after Lo’ak since his return.

“I can not call you mine, at least not yet, but I do believe that Eywa has given me another chance to fight for that right. To fight for the honor it would be to reside by your side. So with my intentions clear and heart set I ask you to accept this first courting gift.” 

The following silence was deafening. It felt as if every second ticking by was one step closer to the bomb in your chest exploding. The group enveloped you like quick sand, each lean closer tightening around you in a suffocating grip. 

So when a small “yes” escaped your lips, you blamed it on the need to breathe. On the need to escape the borrading questions that would inevitably follow your rejection. 

You were willing to blame it on anything. 

Anything but the twinkle of excitement that struck you the second Lo’ak’s wide grin fell into place. 

A/N: It has been so much fun to see y'all's reaction to this random little series I started. Please don't be shy! I love hearing your thoughts! It motivates me to keep writing<3

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @pandoraslovesworld @faintfill @rivatar @neteyamssyulang @mashiromochi @justcaptiannoodles @pocky444 @dayyzlol @kekunan @puddle-nerd @hazelwebsterboo2 @acerbicmoon @aesteticxsariana @haunting-venus @yawnetu @avatar4eva @baybaybear1 @nillikhyth @affinity101022 @tsireyasluvr @bambithewriter @delulumhaggy @kayfromthebay

[dksw0rld]

How I achieved being the happiest I’ve ever been during the hardest year I’ve ever been through

I stopped waiting for the weekend to live life

If a friend asks me to go out to grab a drink on a Thursday for happy hour I now say yes. If I want to go to the movies on a Monday I go on a Monday. I began to refuse living a life that waited for the weekend to live. 

I stopped feeling guilty for spending money on myself

When I began to make my own money in high school, I would save all of it and not spend any on myself. A lot of this was honestly due to my parents paying for everything, they wanted me to save the money I was making for college and the future. Don’t get me wrong having parents like that was and still is a blessing. At the same time, it led me to associate money with needing to hoard it to be prepared for the next step. I began to recognize and heal those thoughts. I embarked deeper on my self love journey and adopted the mindset of recognizing that I am worth every penny I spend and more, whether that be spending money on experiences, on self care, or for my future self.

I re-started a hobby I loved as a child

When I was younger, I did ballet among a few other activities. I loved all of them but ballet was (and still is) my favorite. For years I wanted to start again but let life get in the way. This year I said enough. I looked up in person classes in my area and found that all of them were way out of my price range but, instead of giving up, I found another way. I found a program that taught lessons online with an instructor. Re-starting ballet truly makes my inner-child so happy. 

 I prioritize experiences

This ties into not waiting for the weekend to live life but it deserves it’s own point. I began prioritizing finding ways to live. I look up events in my area and actually attend them. I attend events I find that bring me out of my comfort zone like dance classes in the park, roller skating with a group of people I don’t necessarily know, attending a sunflower festival, etc. I also joined a few social groups that host events and I attend those. I take weekend trips with friends. I take myself on staycations and solo weekend trips. Life really is so much fun when you actually go outside and do things!

I volunteer

I grew up volunteering and I stopped during college. This year I realized how much I missed it. I also knew it would be a great way to meet new people and foster relationships. I’ve always loved being around horses so I knew I wanted to volunteer at a barn. I googled horse barns near me and found one 8 minutes away from my apartment - this barn is a true hidden suburban gem. It’s a therapeutic horse barn for kids with special needs. I volunteer there every Friday and Saturday and am absolutely in love with it. It brings so much to my life. I also volunteer through my church home but more about that in the next point. 

I prioritized finding a church home

I grew up in the church as my Dad was an elder there for 15 years. I sort of lost touch with my faith in the past couple of years. This year I renewed my faith and prioritized looking for a church home after putting it off for a year and a half. I googled churches near me and visited one every Sunday until I felt I found the right fit. I found the church I’m at now and I cannot explain to you how life changing it’s been. I joined a community group through the church to meet more Christians my age and those people mean so much to me now. We meet every Tuesday night, we go on runs together, volunteer together, had a Friendsgiving this past year, it’s just been amazing. I’ve grown so much in my faith.

I stopped prioritizing finding love

I am truly a certified lover girl. I have so much pure love to give and craved someone who would give me the same type of love. I tried to find that person most of my life and while I’ve had some great men in my life they never were “the one”. This year I genuinely stopped prioritizing finding my person and started prioritizing myself and my life. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I’m now filled with trust that my person will come along when it’s time and until then I’m truly enjoying my season of singleness! 

I don’t care what anyone thinks

I’ve genuinely never cared what people think, even when I was younger, which has been a huge blessing. I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum. I’ve never been ashamed to like what I like or to not like what I don’t like, no matter what the people my age were doing. I’ve always done what I’ve felt is best for my life. I never get embarrassed about anything. This notion has just intensified this year.

I don’t care about social media

I stopped going on Instagram. I deleted the app off of my phone. I deleted Twitter years ago. I don’t go on TikTok. I only use Snapchat for extra picture and video storage. I genuinely do not care about social media anymore. I don’t care for everyone to know what I’m up to. I don’t care to know what anyone else is up to. I know what’s going on in the lives of people that matter to me because I actually talk to and spend time with them. I personally don’t see the point in posting on Instagram. I don’t care to know what “celebrities” are doing. I just truly don’t care about any of it. 

I prioritize privacy 

This year I realized how important privacy is. For a whole host of reasons. Some of them being peace, less evil eye, safety, not having the pressure of trying to “keep up”. I can go on and on honestly. This year I’ve begun to say less and observe more. Since choosing private over public I’ve seen my happiness grow and my life blossom. I’m very careful with who I let into my circle. I don’t tell anyone everything. I’m selective with whom I share with and what I share. I’m truly in love with privacy. I love having beautiful experiences and no one or only the people I’m having them with knowing. 

I pay attention to myself 

This year I began to truly pay attention to myself. How I act in certain situations, my thought processes, my emotions, what I still need to work on, how I’ve grown, what triggers me, etc. Once I started doing this, healing, growth and making changes has become so much easier. I finally feel like I know myself through and through. I feel in touch with who I am. I know how to love myself and make myself happy.

I pray this new year you begin to choose happiness, because happiness will always be a choice. This year was NOT easy for me at all but I still prioritized myself and my happiness and I truly have never been happier. I pray this new year you choose yourself. I pray this year you begin to truly live. 

[queenperri]

Super Mario Bros: Princess Placeholders

Characters: Mario, Luigi, Bowser, Peach, Toadette, Original Side and Main Characters

Genre/Themes: Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life w/ Overarching plot, Post-Super Mario Bros Movie

Additional Info: Bisexual Mario, Mix up of Mario Characters from all game series (Paper Mario Etc), Peach is written as a combo between paper Peach and movie Peach.

Summary:

After finally setting up and settling down in the Mushroom Kingdom with his brother Luigi life has been smooth sailing. For the most part anyway, there's still a lot to get used to after his first whirlwind adventure on the superstar continent; like being considered a hero to the masses!

For now Mario is content in his little home with his little brother and a simple life. With Bowser locked away, and a new position as lead plumbers life couldn't be better for the Mario Bros!

At least; that was until all the leaders of the Superstar Continent were called to a last minute meeting. Now Peach has entrusted the Mario Bros and the Toads to keep the kingdom running smoothly while she's away.

Will they manage to keep the kingdom in working order long enough?

Can Mario push past his overwhelming self-doubt?

How many of Peach's dresses can Luigi wear before Toadette just gifts him one?

Push it to the present with Mario and Friends in this slice of life fic!

(Part of an overarching series; updated when I feel like I have a good amount written.)

With squinted eyes he looked at the paper in front of him in the dimly lit room. Her handwriting; elegant in the manner only a princess would be carefully trained to do. Mario rubbed his temples as he pulled the fire flower on his desk ever closer in order to better survey the notes writing. 

Dear Mario,

She always started like that,

Thank you for taking on the kingdom during Toadsworth and I’s extended absence. I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, the meeting between all leaders of the Superstar Continent was swiftly called. 

The toads are usually capable of taking care of the kingdoms affairs without my heed for short periods of time; but considering these gatherings take so long (and since Toadsworth this time is so insistent on joining me) I am trusting you to take heed of the kingdom in my place. Dras T. and Toadette will be there to help and guide you. There shouldn’t be too much excitement as your tasks will be simple and pre-prepped due to my planning ahead. I’ve also arranged rooms for both you and Luigi at the castle. 

You are a very capable person Mario, do not forget that. 

I’ll be sure to bring both you and Luigi souvenirs from my travels. 

Yours truly,

Princess Toadstool Peach

Mario chuckled to himself: his eyes followed the way the princess’s well drawn cursive sign off was intercepted by the much stronger font of the Peach written in that glitter pink pen he had brought her from his occasional trips back home. 

He’d taken to reading the letter every night; it was grounding in a way, it reminded him why he’d been put in charge in the first place. He was capable, and if Peach believed that then he’d simply have to prove her right. 

A week had already gone by without a hitch. Everyday a meeting was held with all the high ranking toads of the kingdom; and usually Dras. T with his ever serious voice; led those without a fuss. 

Then there were rounds about the kingdom that usually culminated in Mario and Luigi doing the odd plumbing and mechanic job when needed. 

And after all that; all that was left to do was to simply log any changes that occurred in the kingdom that day in that big ol’ book in the first floor library. 

Simple; easy work, Luigi had likened it to being “glorified custodians”

Mario was just glad Peach trusted them enough to even do this in the first place. Letting them stay in the castle was a nice gesture; even if the distance between him and his brother's rooms was a little disconcerting. 

Okay maybe not just a little…

There was a reason Mario was up so late after all; and it wasn’t cause of the dimensional time zone differences (he’d long since gotten over that)

The real problem? It was quiet.

Horribly; horribly quiet!

See, Peach had set the brothers up with separate rooms. It wasn’t a big deal really; it was good actually, it saved Mario from Luigi’s terrible snoring! 

Yet at the same time, well, it meant Mario was forced to face the one thing he hated more than anything else. Quiet. 

It was an adjustment when they moved to the Mushroom kingdom. No longer was Mario’s ears met with the sound of New York city nightlife; no more whooping of police sirens echoing through the streets. No more clanking of garbage trucks hitting the manhole lids with a furious thunk. No more of that constant mechanical low drone that seemed to come from no place in particular or that wonderful noise of cars driving by; as the lights faded out and past the cracks of the blinds of the apartment. 

Mario had never noticed the noise before; not until it was taken away and replaced with quiet. 

Luigi’s snoring had turned from that of annoyance to comfort in a matter of days; and all because the Mushroom Kingdom was not nearly as alive in the night as New York was. The mushroom kingdom slept soundly in natural silence. That was not something Mario was very fond of.

In silence came thoughts; and in those thoughts came that sickening feeling that something was terribly terribly wrong. The worry that maybe his life had really been a dream; that he’d wake up in that shared apartment in Brooklyn with his family; back at square one with nothing to prove. 

Mario shook his head rapidly; no, this was real, and Mario was capable; maybe not at getting any proper amount of sleep, but he was plenty good at everything else! 

Just another week or two of playing glorified custodian: just another week or two of having to constantly fix Bowser's tiny, tiny piano; another week or two of a silent castle and then he could go back to a snoring brother and a delightfully small house that they had tucked away in the corner of the Mushroom Kingdom. Just another week or two and Peach comes back and everything goes back to normal. 

-

“How'd you manage to do that!?” Luigi wore an exasperated look. Mario merely reached his hand out to his brother, looking not nearly as surprised as he should be. You’d think after all these years dealing with artifacts the Toads would be a little less clumsy.

“Lemme see that Lu.” 

A staff; clearly ceremonial, bent in a 90 degree angle. It was a pretty thing to; dazzled to the nines in large jewels. The orb on top though, it certainly was… gaudy. 

“I’m uh right to assume this isn’t what it’s supposed to look like yeah?” 

The two toads in front of them looked down sheepishly,

“It was an accident really!”

“Do ya think she’ll notice?”

Fiddling with the staff in his hand; Mario surveyed the damage, “That her staff’s been turned into a venerated boomerang, eh probably.” The good thing was that the staff itself was made of some kind of lightweight metal; “We can take this back to our house and reshape it using some of our tools, easy fix overall.” 

“Oh yeah, easy easy fix” Luigi gave the toads a thumbs up.

Mario watched as the toads breathed a visible sigh of relief, 

“Oh thank the stars…”

“That would’ve the 3rd staff this month.”

Seriously, what did the Toads do with these things???

As the toads walked off to their respective tasks Mario and Luigi were left alone in the castle's foyer. Mario sunk himself into one of those cushy benches that lined the grand hall and slumped down.

“Tired bro?” The seat shifted slightly as Luigi’s body weight joined the cushion. 

“That obvious?”

“Considering the fact you've gone about the whole day with your eyes half closed I’d say yes. That’s a safety hazard ya know?”

Mario chuckled, “How can bein’ a little sleepy be a safety hazard?”

“You’d be surprised bro; you need to get better sleep. What, are those nightmares bothering you again? Need another pair of eyes to watch out for ya while ya sleep;” Luigi poked at Mario’s side, moving his hand away quick enough to avoid his brother swatting it, “You haven't been midnight snacking again have you? You know how weird those dreams can get.”

“Lu, quit that, you're starting to sound like Ma.”

“Whaat am I not allowed to worry for my big bro?” 

Mario slumped down even further; taking in the comfort of the velvet cushion, “Mm you're only allowed to worry if I do something crazy.”

“Like wearing a racoon suit and flying over a pit of boiling lava?”

“Tanooki, Luigi, it's called a- ugh nevamind.” 

Mario felt his brother's arm go around his shoulders, “okay okay, seriously though, what’s bothering you?”

Bothering him? Mm, the quiet was one thing but that was only because the quiet gave way to other thoughts. Such a simple question, but so loaded at the same time. Mario let out a deep sigh, “Well, I guess that-”

“Master Mario, Master Luigi.”

Both the brothers sat up straight at that; Luigi nearly flew off the cushioned bench all together. 

“Where did you even come from?’ Mario wheezed out; at this rate he’d never get used to that booming voice especially mixed with how Dras T. always seemed to come in at the most unconventional times. 

“My… apologies. I’ve come to inform you that another meeting between the High Council of Toads needs a mediator.”

“Wait a minute, didn’t you already have a meeting earlier today?”

“Yeah, Lu’s right. We already did that today, why have anotha one?”

Dras T looked off to the side; that ever dramatic expression littered his features. He seemed to be addressing some imaginary force, 

“Problems have arisen in our fair kingdom, and it is up to us to face them head on. We cannot lay down on these issues another hour.”

“That would be inspirational if it wasn't so ominous…” Luigi muttered. 

“Meet me in the grand hall in an hour,”

Mario rubbed at his eyes, “Didn’t you just say we couldn't wait anoth- and he’s disappeared.”

The bros stared blankly at the empty space in front of them for a moment before turning back to each other.

“Whatdysay we get somethin’ to eat before this whole meeting fiasco eh?” 

Luigi tapped his fingers together excitedly; “Oh yeah! I sure hope Toad’s cooked up something tasty!

-

The sizzle and the impressive panwork Toad exhibited always impressed Mario, the way how with a flick of the wrist he’d so seamlessly flipped in several layers of deliciousness was nothing but astounding. If it weren’t for his own mothers cooking Mario may even call him the best chef he ever knew; of course only counting when the dishes didn't include mushrooms (ironic in and of itself).

Luigi pointed excitedly at the diced tomatoes that sat on the counter next to Toads cooking setup “Oh, and a little bit of that too!” 

“Weegi ya sure that you finish that whole omelet before the meeting?”

“Aw come on Mario, have a lil faith in your little bro, ha cha cha, he’s my best eater, annnd a flippage” Toad flipped the omelet and it land perfectly folded back in the pan before he smoothly slid the food onto Luigi’s eager plate while dooting out what can only be assumed to be a super rad guitar solo. 

“Now what do you want in your omelet Mari-bro,”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Marisnow, Marigo, Mario the man; Mario the concept, Mari-”

“Cheddar cheese, tomatoes, spinach, and go really light on the onions.” Mario deadpanned. 

“Ahh yeah yea, going right with the classic, doing the Mario as I like to say.”

“You’ve never said that before now.”

“It’s gonna catch on, trust me.” 

Mario chuckled and rolled his eyes while holding out his plate for his Courtesy of Toad (™) omelet. He sat back as he listened to Luigi and Toads idle chatter. Luigi had always been a foodie, he was a mama’s boy after all. He’d always be right under Ma’s feet whenever she was cooking. Mario was just glad that Lu had someone to talk to in the mushroom kingdom that was just as passionate about delicious dishes as he was. Luigi just had a certain nuance for food that Mario could never match; so to see his brother and his (self proclaimed) best friend get along well was comforting. Comfort… speaking of comfort, was it just him or were these luncheon chairs the softest thing in the world. And when did everything get so dark and quiet?

Mario opened his eyes to his brother and Toad, staring at him with a mixture of amusement and worry. 

“Taking a quick power nap there Mario?”

“Meh, more or less,” he didn’t even notice he’d already been given his food, luckily his hand had been steady enough for it to not go rolling off the plate. 

Eating their late lunch meals the bros watched as Toad had begun preparation for his next set of meals; explaining them away. Mario wasn’t really paying attention, only tuning in when the conversation began talking of a special banquet.

Luigi spoke in between bites “Oh- oh so all these recipes you're trying out are for the princess’s return?” 

“Uh no, no it's for the special visitor coming. You don’t know?”

Mario raised a brow as he swallowed the last bit of his food, “I uh don’t, think we were clued in on that.” Mario had a feeling he now knew what that last minute council meeting was called for. 

“The princess didn’t leave any notes on that did she?” Luigi asked nervously, “I read the instructions plenty of times, gosh how did I miss that?”

“Ay Lu don’t worry about it too much from the sounds of it this was a last minute addition.”

Toad snapped his fingers and pointed finger guns at Mario “And in that you'd be right, I just found out about it myself. It’s weird though, what kind of prince schedules a meeting knowing a princess won’t be there?” 

“A what?”

“So you two are really really out of the loop then.”

Luigi fumbled into a standing position as he grabbed Mario’s arm, “Come on Bro, let's-a get to this meeting and figure out what’s goin’ on!” 

Mario nodded as he also got up to go, “Thanks for the late lunch Toad, we’ll talk later.”

“Of course, and fill a guy in on the juicy deets on this prince character when you get the chance, yeah?”

Down the halls of the grandiose castle they went; headed towards the grand hall.

NEXT TIME ON SUPER MARIO BROS: SUPER STAR STEADY

Will Mario make it through this meeting without falling asleep?

Who will tell Luigi that he has a few crumbs on his mustache? 

Will ‘doing the Mario’ ever really catch on?

And who is this mysterious prince character? 

Find out in the next chapter of Mario & Luigi: Princess Placeholders

Here | Part 2 | ...

[lambtotheslaughterr]

The Thorne

CHAPTER ONE

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4K

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

            This is my night. The club is full & they are all here for me. I can see their lip-biting grins now, full of want, lust, power. Their heads spinning with alcohol in their system & images of me beneath them, or on top—really however they want. I am the sole reason they leave their wives & kids on the weekends, faking a business trip, just so they can leave the island to come inland: all for me. I feel powerful. These men, these might men with big names & everything to lose, risk it all for me.

            Suppose it’s in my blood, with mom having been an entertainer back in her day, as well. She made a name for herself—a lady of the night—which secured my reputation before I was even born. But fortunately, she got knocked up by one of the elite. So, I grew up with the finest of them; massive beach house & expensive clothes included. For a long time it didn’t matter who my mother was—at least not enough to make high school difficult. I partied with the best of them & was quite popular, surrounded by girls who wanted to be me & boys who wanted to be with me. But when something isn’t truly yours, it never will last for long.

            The first time I stepped on this stage, I hadn’t been surprised how natural it came to me. I was nineteen at the time. Kenya Steele—the owner & my boss—let me audition but I recalled her having a knowing smirk on her face. She knew who I was, too. Didn’t matter if you were raised on the island or on the mainland, whores recognize whores—at least that’s what mom always told me. My mom was never ashamed of her past—something else I learned from her at a young age: to not let the snobs in this town treat me otherwise. She was tenacious, driven, independent, proud: all the traits men feared in a woman, unless of course that woman was your escape for the night, a reason to indulge in your fantasies. It’s how she secured my bourgeois upbringing. I never learned who my father was, but I didn’t need to. Mom played both roles: a fun loving parent who was fiercely protective of her young & would string em’ up & eviscerate them if you looked at her family poorly. I am incredibly proud of the woman she is—and the one she raised me to be.

             Becoming a lady of the night was only supposed to be for a short while, a way to put myself through school, but I soon fell in love with the career. The lights, music, clothes—or lack thereof. More so, that look in their eyes: the men who would kill their best friend on their right to have a single night with you. It was power. And I wanted more of it. I dropped out of college & focused solely on the club. Outside of dancing & stealing the souls of the wealthy & shameless, the club was incredibly important to me. Kenya had only begun lightly training me a year ago to potentially run the place—or start my own when I outgrew the stage. That wouldn’t be for a while though. I’m only 22 & just getting started.

            Steele Your Heart is barren tonight. It’s the middle of the week. I’m not performing tonight. Kenya reserves my performances for the weekends to rake in the money unless I am requested for a private dance. Tonight, I work the bar. As much as I enjoy walking around in nothing but a tiny pair of underwear—if you could even call them that—I too enjoy finding ways to accentuate my body with clothing. Like tonight, I wear high-waisted daisy dukes paired with fishnets that disappear into my oldest pair of combat boots. The top I wear is a shredded Guns N’Roses crop, holes torn throughout with just enough side boob. My phase with wearing bras had been short-lived & restricted to middle school. Growing up with a mom who argued for women’s bodies to be dressed how the woman damn well pleases allowed me to grow comfortably in my skin. My tits were just small enough to never need a bra but just big enough to collect sweat underneath during the hot & humid months that came with living in the South.

            Kicking open the swinging door from the kitchen that led to the bar, I haul in a single keg. One of the many benefits of being a dancer is the impressive strength one gains. Though I’m not muscular to the eye, I’m quite strong & have proven so with a few men who liked to break the rules. Emma—who goes by Skiz on stage—sits on a stool at the bar, counting out the tips she’s made thus far. I snicker to myself as I quickly estimate how much she’s made, turning my back to her & kneeling, changing out the kegs.

            “Oh, shut it.” She mutters, “Not everyone can have their own show to bring in the dough.”

            I shake my head in response but remain smiling, “So, talk to Kenya.” I tell her over my shoulder, “You know she’d give you a few trial nights a month in place of me. Not like I can do it forever.”

            “Psh.” She tuffs, “Like she’d give up a weekend of dollar signs out the ass for a nobody like me.”

            “How else do you expect to get known?” I counter, slamming the cupboard shut, turning to face her, “Think I was just given the spot I have?”

            Emma quits her counting to stare knowingly at me, a single eyebrow raised, “Exactly.”

            “Okay okay.” I chuckle, “I’m just saying. She respects initiative so if it’s something you really want, take it to her. What’s the worse she’ll do? Fire you?”

            We share a laugh knowing full well Kenya would never fire any of her girls without a damn good reason—like sleeping with a customer, on or off the clock. I glance at the time on the wall, only 10:00. I sigh, glancing around the club space.

            There are three stages throughout the club, save for the private ones in back. Two that flank the sides with a wall of lights behind them to provide silhouettes of the dancers. On some theme nights thin curtains are hung to provide only silhouette dances, an aesthetic popular enough to bring back twice a month. Then, in the center of the club space is a long-oval shaped stage, where the main shows take place. Me & two other girls are the highlights of the weekend nights. My performances usually lasting 30 minutes, twice a night, Thursdays to Saturdays. Overhead are circular lights carved into the ceiling that vary in color throughout the nights, though typically they remain a magenta hue. The seating throughout the club consists of single luxurious deep purple velvet chairs that offer both comfort & elegance. Kenya took a risk in purchasing that many, but anyone caught ruining them with their bodily fluids is fined for public indecency, blacklisted from the club, & their name showcased in bright lights on the sign above the club in the parking lot. One foolish man decided to challenge Kenya & did exactly that: pulled his puny pee-pee out & finished all over one of the seats. In the next hour, the man was getting escorted out of the club by some officers while Kenya sent one of the bodyguards up a ladder to plaster the man’s name on the sign. Since then, no one has been stupid enough to try.

            A few men are seated throughout, most by themselves, but there’s a small group of older men on the right side, watching intently as one of the newest girls’ glides down a pole. I sigh, craving more action. Emma notices this & glances over her shoulder to check out the ghost-town of a club. She clicks her tongue, lining up her tips & handing them to me, “Stash this, will ya?”

            I collect the wad of dollar bills & 20’s from her, unlocking a safety locker beneath the register, placing it in a mason jar with her name on it. She peers over my shoulder into the mirror that backs the bar, adjusting her barely existing top & brushing her bangs out of her eyes. Cracking her neck, she bends forward to touch her toes before rising again, “Guess I should get back up there; can’t let the new girl steal my thunder.”

            Smiling after her, I return to the bar, wiping down taps & taking inventory. I’m nearly through the rum shelving when Kenya appears beside me, “You’ve been requested.”

            “Right now?” The question leaves my mouth in ridicule.

            “No.” She responds, taking the clipboard from my hands to double check my work, “Tomorrow night. You, Skiz, & the new one.”

            Relief washes over me, “Okay. Returning customer?”

            “No.” Kenya’s short responses never got old, but they always left much to be desired. Content with my work on inventory, she hands the clipboard back & begins to walk away, “Dress fully. Client requested a full show, not the 15-minute stuff. You’ll be entertaining them for as long as they want.”

            I nod in response, already going over in my head the dresses I have back home & which one I’d be in the mood to wear tomorrow night. Requested private dances in the middle of the week weren’t uncommon but in trios was. Must be a larger party, I think to myself. Working a larger party was always nerve-wracking. Men tend to egg each other on & half the time things get out of hand quickly. I’ve seen it all: men fighting over which girl gives them a lap dance to getting sloppy drunk to the point that the dancing is redundant since no one has their eyes open—and with no eyes open, how else do we make our money?—even to the most dangerous, when there’s 10 of them & only 2 of you & they decide that the rules don’t apply to them. Not often does the latter happen but it does happen.

            When Kenya opened this club six years ago, the first thing she focused on was security. Every private room in the back has a single wall that is all mirror from one end to the other, the secret is that the mirrors are all one-way. Bodyguards will be watching from the dark confines of their caves to ensure the safety of the girls. Furthermore, every private room has a panic button should things get out of hand &, for whatever reason, the guards can’t get into the room. The panic buttons are placed inconspicuously on the poles themselves, just an inch off the stage floor. One press & the police are notified, along with the rest of the club as the lights throughout will go from dimly lit to brights being flashed at you on the freeway. Fortunately, a panic button has yet to be used, but there have been plenty of times bodyguards have had to step in from their confines on the other side of the mirrors.

            But tomorrow with Emma should be effortless. While I could handle a larger party comfortably with a guard hidden inside the wall, Emma was an additional force to be reckoned with. The two of us together were a dream-team. We worked a room beautifully, emptied their wallets, & left them wanting more; more importantly, we left them happy.

            Once I finish taking inventory of the bar, I rest my elbows on the counter behind me, gazing across the club watching as Emma crawls seductively toward a man who appears all too eager for her to get closer. In my opinion, Emma had potential for her own show—she has what most refer to as ‘come hither’ eyes—a physical trait that draws the attention of the room. However, despite her teasing eyes & good-looks, she lacked the drive to gain the role of a weekend show. Her downfalls, though admirable, are a mix of fearing taking away money from girls who needed it more & not being good enough, experiencing rejection. But I knew she was capable if she only brought it up to Kenya.

            Speaking of which, Kenya—from her office on the second floor that overlooks the main floor of the club—makes eye contact with me & beckons me upstairs. Tossing a rag into a bleach bucket, I make my way toward the back hallway where the private rooms are, as well as the stairs to her office. Unless you know about her office on the second floor, one would never find the stairs since they’re hidden quite well. Ascending them, I knock once on her door before entering. Kenya is sitting at her desk, her face illuminated by the computer screen before her, she has her booking journal before her—the one for private sessions.

            “What’s up?” I question, standing by the windows that overlook the club. Emma is topless at this point, draping herself over the man, his hands gripping the armrest as Emma rubs slowly against him.

            “About tomorrow night,” She begins, “One of the members of the party is the son of a prominent family on the island.”

            I nod once, gesturing for her to continue, “He’s known to be trouble. I want you three to be prepared for any problems tomorrow night.”

            “Okay,” I half laugh, half scoff, “Nothing new there. Almost everyone who comes from the island is a pretentious prick. You know we got this, right?”

            “Yes, I do.” She shuts down her screen to lean back in her chair & look me over, “But this is different. He has a history with getting his way. So, before you even start tomorrow, I already want you three to be preventing any potential problems.”

            “Geez, okay. You sound worried, more than usual.” Kenya’s hazel eyes meet my own emerald ones, “Who is he?”

            “The less you know the better.” Her logic stumps me. I rebuttal, “How the hell does that make sense? If you want us to de-escalate before it even begins shouldn’t we know which one is the trouble-maker?”

            “In most cases, yes,” She agrees, brushing back her long straight red hair to lean forward, “this is different though. I don’t want any of you to show any bias towards the clients. I want you to perform & entertain like normal, but just with the knowledge that problems may linger. Do you understand?”          

            Unfortunately, I do. If we know which one of the men is the problem we may avoid him, which could in turn cause the very problems she wants to avoid, “Understood. I just—” I pause, unsure of how to phrase my concerns, “How well do you want us to perform? I mean, you’re worried enough to warn us but not enough to tell us who he is. Do we want them to come back, or do we want them to have a good enough time just not well enough to return for some more?”

            Kenya exhales heavily, pondering my question. After a beat of silence she shakes her head once, “Enough for them to not come back. It’d be in yours, mine, & the clubs best interest to not garner the attention of a well-known, living, breathing problem.”

            “That bad.” She tightens her lips, responding to me with, “One problem & he could shut us down.”

            “I see.” A chill falls over my body & I shake the goosebumps off, “Okay, I’ll let the other two know.”

            “No.” Kenya starts. I open mouth to question, yet again, why the hell not when she puts her hand up to silence me, “Only you need to know. I trust you to entertain & manage on your own. Skiz is good but she’s a ball of anxiety, & the new girl, well, we’re still feeling her out in regard to private shows. Just you.”

            I sigh, knowing she’s right, “Okay, heard. Just me.”

            “Great.” With that, Kenya turns her screen back on, her indirect way of dismissing me. Closing the door behind me, I lean against it to relieve myself of the last bit of goosebumps that lingered. Never before has Kenya kept information like this from us. If a client is concerning enough we’re typically given the full details of who they are, what they’re like. But if Kenya—one of the toughest women I know—is scared, then we should be too.

            Emma, the new girl—whose stage name is Eureka—& I are in the dressing room in the basement of Steele Your Heart. We arrived about thirty minutes ago with our dresses, wigs, & makeup, preparing for tonight’s private show. Emma sits to my right, adjusting her shortened blonde wig, which pairs well with her milk chocolate skin. Behind us, in the reflection of the mirror, Eureka is finishing putting on white nipple pasties before reaching for a little black leather dress. She’s younger than Emma & I, 19 I believe, but she looks confident, excited. It was difficult to not inform them of what we were potentially walking into, but Kenya’s fears reminded me to keep my mouth shut.

            Before we arrived, in a group text, the girls & I decided against going with a theme. Instead, since it was going to be a group, we made the choice to dress differently as a way to cater to different tastes the men may have. Eureka, underneath her leather dress, wears a brightly colored pink & blue tie-dye thong with pasties on her tits. Her role being the bubbly playful entertainer. Emma’s role tonight is the tease, a role she plays well. She wears a fishnet one piece which only covers her breasts & private area, though they both can still be made out due to the material. Her dress is a skin tight bright orange strapless dress. As for myself, my role is the dom—fitting thanks for my secret role as the night begins. The lingerie under my dress greatly emulates that of Lara Croft: the top is mesh that leaves plenty of underboob exposed, the bottoms mesh as well but come paired with straps that wrap snugly around my thighs. The dress I wear is mesh but patterned after a zebra. Not my favorite but I wasn’t in the greatest state of mind when perusing my collection of dresses. It’ll do though.

            Emma, content with the placement of her wig, meets my eyes in her mirror, “You alright? You’re quiet.”

            “Fine.” I lie, a smile appearing on my face, “Just didn’t sleep well last night.” Emma goes to respond when her eyes narrow on her reflection, “What are you doing?”

            She turns around & following her gaze, I see that she’s staring at Eureka. Eureka, having just finished adding extensions & throwing her hair in a long pony-tail, stops abruptly in her movement, “Sorry?”

            “You can’t have a pony-tail. That’s Thorne’s role remember?” Eureka glances at me & I nearly forget that I am indeed supposed to be resembling Lara Croft, my own long brown hair already placed in a single braid down my back. Eureka falters in her movement, unsure of what to do.

I look her over, reassuring her, “It’s okay,” I stand from my personal vanity & cross to her, reaching for her hair, “Keep the extensions but leave your hair loose, we need variety.” Eureka smiles smally at me, briefly glancing at Emma in contempt, “Thanks.”

            Eureka fixes her hair then departs from the dressing room. “You didn’t have to be so rude,” I remind Emma, who rolls her eyes at me, “I’m serious. You remember what it’s like. She’s learning. We gotta look out for each other.”

            She continues to roll her eyes but grumbles, “I know. Just nervous for some reason.”

            I want to share that I am too, though for other reasons; instead I opt to giving her a gentle rub on the shoulder, “We’ve done this a hundred times. We got this. Dream team, remember?”

            We trade smiles, “Dream team.” She repeats before we blow kisses to each other in the mirror. In that moment Kenya appears at the door, Kavanaugh & Robins, two of the body guards, flanking her on each side, “Show time.”

            Emma, Eureka, & I follow Kenya & the boys upstairs to the private hallway. We can’t see into the rooms so we’re still unaware of how many men wait for us inside. But part of our routine is going into the cave to get an idea before making our appearance. Before we follow Kavanaugh & Robins into their post for the night, Kenya stops us, facing us with an expression that breeds worry, “Do well, ladies.”

            Emma & Eureka nod once before filing into the darkened room, leaving Kenya & I to trade knowing looks, “Remember what I said.”

            “I know.” She steps to the side, “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

            Kenya departs down the hallway. I step into the cave. Kavanaugh & Robins are already in their seats, leaning forward in surveillance. Emma & Eureka stare into the one-way glass with their arms crossed.

“I was expecting more.” Eureka notes.

“A lot more.” Emma adds.

Joining them at the glass, I peer to the other side, the men completely unaware of our existence. Unlike what I would have expected, a party of men, there were only three, all of whom looked rather young, younger than myself. They dressed casually but still reeked of the island snobbery that they came from. On the left was a tall, skinny blonde who sported sun-kissed skin, evident of his days on the beach; he wore a pristine white polo shirt lazily tucked into navy blue trousers that cut just above his ankles, his feet hidden inside light brown loafers. In the middle was an equally tall though more athletically built dark-skinned man who wore a sexy pout & a blue button down, paired with dark denim jeans & that covered the neck of some Chelsea boots. Finally, on the right, was another rather skinny, tall man with light brown hair that had stray hairs brushing against his forehead. He wore a grey hoodie underneath a denim jacket with black jeans & pure white sneakers.

The three men talked amongst themselves jovially, clearly in high spirits, something that gave me great relief. They already had a few bottles on the stage before them & were slightly red in the cheeks. Emma & Eureka appeared displeased by how little men there were which meant less money, but I reassured them, “They’re island brats, lots of dough.”

“You’re right, I s’pose.” Emma clicks her tongue, “Well, let’s get this show on the road.”

Just before she turned to lead the way to our entertainment, the man on the right in the hoodie gazed into the mirror from across the small room. He couldn’t see in, but it felt invasive. I felt seen. Then he smirked, a very knowing very cocky smirk, in response to something one of the other two said—then it hit me. Like falling from a bridge & making impact into cold solid water, I recognized him. That smirk, those knowing eyes…

“No fucking way.” A gasp leaves my mouth as I step forward, desperately trying to convince myself that he wasn’t who I thought he was.

“Thorne, what is it?” Emma’s voice sounds faded, muffled. My heart beat is thrumming inside my ears, my breathing shallow. I left the island many years ago to outrun that family, never wanting to share the same zip code again. Yet here one of them was, the most volatile one, too. Kenya’s warning from the previous night comes flooding back to me, He’s known to be trouble, always getting his way.

I swallowed though my mouth & throat were dry. Kenya didn’t know how right she was. Because if Rafe Cameron was anything like his father, tonight would only just be the beginning of the club’s problems.

Here is the first chapter to a new Rafe Cameron fanfiction (which I always like to fukkfiction). Scheduled posts are up in the air right now due to a busy life but I will post as often as I can.

This story will contain original characters created by me, including even an additional Cameron, Rafe's older sister (not owned by OBX).

Please, share your thoughts with me, I look forward to hearing from ya'll. Thank you, thank you(:

oona<3

(P.S. I know my grammar can be atrocious at points, it's not my strongest writing suit but until I can sit down & properly edit, please enjoy the story so far).

CHAPTER TWO

[for-the-chainsaw-boy]

i am fucking your mom

LEGOLAND

THE ENTERTAINERS PENNY LAMB: A sixteen-year-old, sister of Ezra. EZRA LAMB: A thirteen-year-old, brother of Penny.

PLAYING STYLE Physical. Very physical. But truthful. The acting should be as frenetic and as over-the-top as possible, but with real acting intentions and subtlety. A clock with a soul.

MUSIC The whole play should be underscored, but not with current pop. Instead, past tunesmiths like Elvis, Hank Williams, Berlioz and Beethoven. Ambient music is fine occasionally as background. The soundscape sets the rhythm of their game.

SOUND Q #1 -- Last song preshow. Fade out sound as the house lights come down. Two spotlights, one on PENNY LAMB, the other on her brother EZRA. PENNY is a young woman wearing French braids and a private school uniform; she has a bright smile. Holding a piece of paper, she stands over a music box that plays a sweet, monotonous melody. EZRA, an intense thirteen-year-old, sits cross-legged in a chair, with a neutral expression on his face. He, too, wears a school uniform, plus a black cape, a single white dress glove and Chinese slippers. He has a fixed gaze on one audience member of his choosing, a fixed gaze he maintains practically throughout the proceedings. PENNY: Hello. My name is Penny Lamb, and I am an aspiring animal conservationist.

PENNY slams the music box. There is a flash. The stage exposes a large garbage can full of toys and a makeshift puppet theatre upstage centre made of household miscellanea: flashlight as footlight, a red curtain, etc. At the back of the wall there is a screen for various slides. EZRA should run the show as much as possible. Whatever the layout, it should look like it is designed by two industrious children… including the slides; imagine two children, with a solid year to design a show. PENNY speaks at an incredible speed, being an immensely nervous and self-conscious teenager. She literally trips over her words -- a volcano of passion and eloquence. PENNY: Hello again… (stage left) Welcome. (stage right) Welcome. (centre stage) Welcome… Welcome to my presentation. (reading from her card) This is where I tell you, after two hundred hours of community service, how never to turn out like me. It is my hope that after my hours of community service (looking up) that have culminated in this presentation, (reading) you will all go out and… and well… (looking up) lead fuller, lawfuller lives! (reading) I would like to thank Miss Peachery -- (looking up) my social worker -- (reading) for giving me the ultimatum of doing this presentation… (looking up) or, like, pick up other people’s trash for an entire year on some crummy expressway… (reading of a cure card, at a machine-gun pace) So first off I want to tell people never to shoplift, jaywalk, beat up kids, swear, knock on people’s doors and run away, be mean to overweight people, talk back to your parents. Stop, drop and roll. Never let your uncle touch you in places you feel uncomfortable with -- (looking up) even if it’s, like, your elbow. (looking down) Don’t do drugs -- unless they are prescribed by a licensed practitioner of the psychiatric profession… and stay away from sex, but if you ever get into super sexy stuff… use a condom… Oh… and it’s entirely natural to mastubate… (looking up) but never in a public place. She stops reading. Whew. Well that should cover a lot of ground, considering that’s like every high school play or movie I’ve ever seen in, like… ten seconds flat. And, I didn’t do any of the above mentioned stuff. I’ve taken all of those lessons to heart, and obeyed them. Beat. (fast) However, I did sell and traffic drugs in two countries, and horribly maim this man. This man I truly loved. Beat. Look, I was fifteen then. I was all screwed up… I’m sixteen now.

Beat. I would also like to thank Ezra… for doing all the art direction and putting all the pizazz into this whole stupid thing. Oh, this is my brother Ezra Lamb. Together… we are the Lambs. Say hi-a, Ezra Lamb. PENNY assumes a vaudeville punchline pose. EZRA casually takes of his white glove and throws it on the ground. He walks daintily next to PENNY, taking his time, leading with his feet, still focused on his one audience member. He talks like a nutcracker, breaking up his words. He has an other-worldly voice, and is practically expressionless throughout the proceedings. EZRA: Hi-a, Ezra Lam…… “bu.” EZRA assumes the Vaudeville pose, but with a performance art edge. PENNY: (giggling) That’s a joke… We make those. You can laugh… or not. Beat. EZRA: (with intensity) Hi-a, Ezra Lam… (extremely loud) “BU”! Beat. PENNY: Um, he has ADHD, which means -- EZRA: Attention Deficit Hy-per Act-ive Dis-or-der. PENNY: Which means -- EZRA: Five milligrams of Ritalin, five milligrams of Dex-ahhhh-drine. PENNY: And -- EZRA: I have strong apprehension to the scientific claims of my dis-or-der. PENNY: He’s pretty smart though -- for a thirteen-year-old basket case. Are you going to talk like that through the whole presentation? EZRA: Yes. PENNY: In real life he doesn’t talk like that. EZRA: In real life I don’t exist. Beat.

PENNY: Yes, he does. EZRA: No, I don’t. PENNY: Yes, he does. EZRA: No, I don’t. PENNY: Yes. EZRA: No. PENNY: Yes. EZRA: No. PENNY: Yes. EZRA: No. PENNY: No. EZRA: Yes. PENNY: Ha! EZRA: (defeated) I exist. PENNY: Why don’t you tell us something about yourself, Ezra? SOUND Q #2 -- “Gnossienne.” EZRA exposes a sad-looking doll. He acts out the motions of the little man in the puppet theatre. Eric Satie’s “Gnossienne #1” plays. EZRA: Well… I did read in the paper a while ago… Jeffrey Dahmer, you know that serial killer that killed and ate all those people? Well, he pulled double night shifts in a factory making chocolate Santa Clauses. Did it for years. So I imagine the austere fluorescent lighting, the endless chocolate Santas coming down the conveyor belt, the gloomy faces punching in the clock… The desperate silence of a cog in a forever festive machine… going to work at sunset, to bed at sunrise… This goes on for years… Until finally he falls on his knees going… He makes the puppet fall on his knees.

(in a southern accent, dramatically) I’m going to break. I’m simply gonna’ break. PENNY: Uhh… Okay. So I can explain… we were both home schooled. EZRA: I mean it would drive you -- PENNY: (gritting) Okay, that’s enough about Jeffrey Dahmer! Let me whisk you away to happier times. Play some whisking-away music, Ezra. SOUND Q #3 -- Whisking-away EZRA plays whisking-away music on his ghetto-blaster. SLIDE #1 -- Uranium City. PENNY: Welcome to Uranium City, Saskatchewan! Oh, the sun is out today, I see. We both grew up on the Elysium Community Farm, just outside of Uranium City, which means -- EZRA: A lot of people walking around naked, quoting eastern philosophy, and never shaving their pubes. PENNY: Right, and all the kids there were named Rainbow, Sunshine, Trotsky. Ezra even had a best friend named Noam Chomsky… SkyTrain. We lived on Elysium with our mom Marie-Jose Blanche -- and our dad -- Rudolf. They met at some college waaaaaaaaaaay back in the nineties. He took her in his arms and danced her ass off to “Hungry Eyes,” and they also found that they both thought modern civilization was -- EZRA: A sausage factory, crushing individuals’self-worth, turning them into soulless, neurotic robots. PENNY: Toads. And that got them both real hot! So that very same night, I was conceived. Three years later, Ezra. Lookit, where we grew up? Elysium Community Farm? Everybody was totally into all that happy hippy stuff. You know, sitars, sunshine, philosophy, love, Humanism, ganja weed. We talked and laughed, learned lots… And sometimes at night Ezra would put on super cool puppet shows about German Nihilism. EZRA: The nail that sticks out gets hammered down! EZRA gestures, punching his hands together. PENNY: It went on like this for years, this all-enlightened, home-made living; there was only one drawback… Now, we didn’t want to hurt the good people at Elysium, but there was this crummy rule that kids couldn’t go to Legoland until they were sixteen -- oh, by the way, that’s what they called everything here outside Elysium -- “Legoland.” (She winks)

Fade out sound. PENNY: Okay so lookit! When I got to thirteen… I was getting kind of itchy, you know? To see a world that didn’t consist only of naked, smiling, enlightened hippies… And Ezra… Well, Ezra was getting kind of weird… playing with his little monkey in his room all day. EZRA removes a monkey hand puppet wearing a little bowler. PENNY: Oh, that’s his little monkey, Afenschwanz. EZRA: Afenschwanz in German means monkey dingle. PENNY: Ezra has always been all mad into the Germans. I mean, that Nietzsche guy had a saying for everything! EZRA: The last Christian died on the cross. PENNY: A joke is an epitaph on emotion. EZRA: Without music, the world would be a mistake. PENNY: Ah, that’s my absolute favorite! Without music, the world would be a mistake. Beat. PENNY: Awesome! Nietzsche's so dreamy. So, I got the hankering to go to Legoland… more specifically, Uranium City. I knew kind of what to expect, because I read a book called Anne of Green Gables. I mean, sure the whole town would be weirded out by our precocious mannerisms at first. But after a while we’d all be embraced by these nice people… Banker Mudge… Farmer Pete… Baker Jones. Oh, and little Gilbert, my high school sweetheart who -- EZRA: When we got to Wal-Mart, it wasn’t anything like that… EZRA & PENNY: Wal-Mart! SOUND Q #4 -- Wal-Mart. PENNY: … A big old slab of bright blue and concrete… plastered with yellow smiley faces. Cars spilling in and out. EZRA: An endless line of people coming and going. PENNY: Looking down at their feet, holding their bags. The only ones smiling are the people that work there.

EZRA & PENNY: Crazy jack-o’-lantern smiles! PENNY: Thousands of magazines of famous people in tons of make-up, telling you that without all their make-up, they’d look just like you. EZRA: And without all their fame… EZRA & PENNY: They’d act just like you! Fade out sound. PENNY: Anyway… Wal-Mart was super awesome… But… everyone was all busy… Now, we tried our darndest to strike up friendly chats with people in Wal-Mart… But it was strange; if you talked to people they acted like you were touching your dingle in front of them. We snuck out several times, but no matter what we did, no one talked to us! So that’s when we came up with this… Jeez, it was such a stupid idea.. I was thirteen then… So we… EZRA falls down on the ground and starts convulsing. PENNY: (mechanically) Oh my God! That little boy is having a seizure. We have to get him on his stomach so he doesn’t swallow his tongue! EZRA jiggles around. PENNY shakes him several times. He revives. EZRA: (coached) Thank you, I would have been a goner if it weren’t for the collective need I sensed in all of you for my survival. PENNY: So, Ezra started faking seizures in the Wal-Mart, and I’d pretend to revive him. And now -- I know, I know, I know! … it is not socially acceptable to simulate human catastrophe in order to strike up a conversation. But I have to say, when people think you’re on the brink of death… Well… they can be really super awesome! The whole crowd of people would break out into applause, old ladies’ mascara would run from tears of joy, families would cry out, “Oh, thank God he’s all right! Oh, thank God that little boy is all right!” You see, every time Ezra had one of his spaz attacks, there was real love in the Wal-Mart… It wasn’t just a place to get cheap junk anymore… No! It was a community. So, we did it a couple of times -- EZRA: Thirty-six times. PENNY: Thirty-six times… and after a while, the manager got wise… and, well, he called the police… and they drove us home. And that’s when… Well, that’s when… all that trouble happened… SOUND Q #5 -- Hippy

Beat. EZRA is in the puppet theatre acting out the drug bust with toys. PENNY: As it turned out… Elysium was the largest fricking organic pot farm in the Prairies! … The constable got on his CB… before you knew it, all of Elysium looked like a cheesy action film. All the parents were rounded up in paddy wagons… The next day we all made national news. All these pictures of us Elysian kids looking all doe-eyed… And I know it’s bad to feel bad for people who’ve violated the sacred sanctity of like… Never. Getting. High… but the parents on Elysium, our parents, my parents… they loved us and taught us kids a lot of cool stuff like, how to make… Fade out sound over fifteen seconds. EZRA: Non-toxic forms of penicillin. PENNY: The fundamentals of chemistry, agriculture, astronomy -- and every Sunday the kids would have the humanistic talent show -- where everyone came in first! We were really kind of… amazingly happy. Beat. PENNY: Anyway, after my folks got fifteen for cultivation and trafficking of narcotics… we were sent to a boarding school… First day. Teacher pulls me up in front of the class. SOUND Q #6 -- School bell. Sound plays out. Beat. PENNY: The instant I see the boys staring at me like gaping fish with their heads cut off… and the girls looking at me with those Queen of England smiles… Oh, little Penny wasn’t in Kansas anymore… Uh-uh… I was sent to the charred black bowels of everlasting Hell! Beat. PENNY: (brightly) But all the teachers liked to call it -- EZRA & PENNY: Saint Cassian Catholic School! SOUND Q #7 -- Thunder and religious music. EZRA: The actual Saint Cassian was lynched by his students, pinned down and brutally stabbed in the throat with their styli.

PENNY & EZRA: How perfect! PENNY: Saint Cassian, a blend of everything insane in both science and religion. EZRA: Jesus without love. PENNY: Science with no reason. And I was given the dubious distinction of being branded the high school -- EZRA & PENNY: LESBIAN! Sound fades out. PENNY: Everything I did was wrong. My hair, how I talked, what I loved, liked, listened to! Boys writing “Dyke” on my locker with indelible Jiffy-marker. Being pushed down stairs, pushed up stairs, pushed to the side of stairs, soon avoiding stairs all together -- which made it very difficult, because my locker and most of my classes were on the second floor! Girls going up to me all, like -- EZRA pops up in the puppet theatre with three Barbies, all speaking in EZRA’s voice; he attempts very little characterization, still giving his flat delivery. EZRA: (Barbies) Penny, me and the girls were wondering, are you, like, some kind of lesbian? PENNY: I don’t… How many kinds are there? … What… is a lesbian like? EZRA: (Barbies) Like you! Tee-hee, tee-hee. EZRA and the Barbies giggle. PENNY: Ohh, their laughter! Like a pack of bleached-blond, screeching banshees! And in class, in class, it was actually worse! I mean, I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to actually know anything in school! EZRA: (as the teacher) So, class, in Lord of the Flies, what is William Golding trying to express? PENNY, in a chair, puts her hand up excitedly. PENNY: Uh… The Lord of the Flies. So these children are on an island without parents, right? And they revert to a Darwinian state, where savage conformity rules, the intelligent, the spiritual, the moral. Picked off… one by one! Crushed under rocks! Stuck like pigs! EZRA: (as the teacher) Penny, we’re Catholics, we don’t believe in Darwin! (Barbies) Ha, ha, ha, not only is Penny a lesbian, she’s a feminist lesbian! PENNY: Well, who’s ever heard of a misogynist lesbian.

EZRA: (as the teacher) Penny, stop using big words. PENNY: Big words? This is an English class! Wh-wh-what big words? EZRA: (as the teacher) Words, like “conformity” and “intelligence.” (Barbies) All we want to do is, like -- read? … books? PENNY: (powerfully) Read?! The only things you beepin’ hussies like to read are your pregnancy tests! EZRA: (as the teacher) Penny! Get out of my classroom! Take your wicked keister down to (EZRA’s voice) Dr. Prattle’s office! PENNY: Dr. Prattle, the Catholic psychiatrist! EZRA & PENNY: Jesus, Freud and pills. EZRA: Now, there’s a bitter cocktail! PENNY: I got to Dr. Prattle’s office -- wham, bam, thank you ma’am. I was now the proud owner of a brand new -- EZRA & PENNY: Neurological disorder! Fade out sound. PENNY: Bipolar! Manic depressive… Survey says! SLIDE #2 -- Pill. EZRA: Five milligrams of Paxil two times a day! PENNY: And Ezra was soon sent to the good doctor, too. EZRA: It was after my science presentation. SOUND Q #8 -- Masterpiece Theater. SLIDE #3 -- Syphilis. Masterpiece Theater theme plays. A slide comes up reading, “The Syphilis Hall of Fame,” with pictures of several philosophers.

EZRA: The Syphilis Hall of Fame. Nietzsche, Shakespeare, Voltaire… Question: What made these the great thinkers they are today? … Answer: syphilis. Fade out sound. PENNY: That’s when Ezra was diagnosed with severe -- EZRA: ADHD. Five milligrams of Ritalin, five milligrams of Dexedrine. PENNY: Anyway, there we were -- doped up to the gills -- in Hell. Well, I was. Ezra was kind of -- EZRA: (proudly) Sold my meds to teenagers and college kids. Ten bucks a throw. PENNY: Kids on the street called him “lil’ E-Z,” as it -- EZRA: One “Lamb,” and you can take it EEEE-ZEE. For two E-Z payments of five dollars you get high as a kite, sharp as a tack, get wiggedy wiggedy wack, or your money back. PENNY: He had a massive eighteen-year-old football player named Todd on salary, EZRA: He was always coming up short, skimming the product. (blurts with passion, yet without tension in his voice) Fucking junkies! PENNY: EZRA GINSBERG MARTIN LUTHER WOODY GUTHRIE LAMB! … This is a theatre… you can’t say the F-word unless you’re pretending to be poor! Anyway, lil’ E-Z was making a go at his whole drug syndicate thingy… And I was kind of… well… Beat. PENNY: Like, sleeping in my room all day… tearing my hair and throwing up, kind of suicidal and depressed and everything… So, one day a bunch of girls were setting fire to my school bag -- second time that week -- and I wasn’t even crying anymore… because, you get to a point… when you’re waaaay beyond crying. Beat. PENNY: “Not waving but drowning.” Stevie Smith. “This is my life… Whoomp (There It Is).” Tag Team. Beat. PENNY: But then! … Tammy Edwards sat down next to me and, like… took Christian pity. EZRA: Tinky winky tinky winky tinky winky tink.

SOUND Q #9 -- Harp. PENNY: … Tammy was the only one in that crummy crack house Catholic school, I think, who actually believed in Jesus. So, she was all, like… into shaking hands with lepers -- or lesbians, as the case may be. EZRA enters in a tutu, spinning around fairy godmother-like. EZRA: (as Tammy) Look… the other kids make fun of you because you don’t wear, see or listen to anything cool. PENNY: … But… how do I become cool? EZRA: Only the Lord knoweth what is truly cool… Take this CD. If you listen to this -- all is forgiven. EZRA hands her a CD. Fade out sound. PENNY: I ran to my room. I put the CD in my player. Then… Ohhh, then… SOUND Q #10 -- Classical. She starts to hyperventilate, the crescendo of Handel’s “Hallelujah” chorus plays. PENNY: Ohhh, my ears were lavished with a rhapsody of pure bliss. Musical ecstasy, I believe akin to the ascent of one’s soul rising towards the heavenly spheres! I was bathed in the melody of God and all His angels and cherubs. For at that instant I experienced rapture, only felt before by the likes of naked hermits in the desert. For it was that golden day I first heard… the boy band… Fade out sound. EZRA & PENNY: Seven Up! SOUND Q #11 -- Xanadu. SLIDE #4 -- Seven Up. Slide comes up of a boy band named Seven Up… They are next to a gas station, wearing singlets and jeans, looking all sexy and bad-ass. PENNY: Seven Up was founded in Orlando, Florida, after an international American talent search. The goal was to put five of the most talented men in a sound studio, with various composers, a choreographer, a designer --

EZRA: A chartered accountant. PENNY: And see what happened. Well, I’ll tell you what happened, people! … Seven Up! Fade out sound. PENNY: Seven Up consists of five members. There is Johnny Moon (trembles)… and four other guys: Sammy Thorndike, the preppy; Billy Benton, the jock; Tony Capelli, the bad boy; and Juan Carlito Ramirez… the… they only ever described him as the Spanish guy. Now, a lot of kids make fun of the fact that Seven Up only has five members… when the name Seven Up would lead one to assume they had -- I dunno -- seven members? EZRA: There are seven deadly sins: sloth, gluttony, envy, lechery, avarice, pride and wrath -- they encapsulate them all nicely. PENNY: And last, but definitely not least… Drum roll, Ez’! EZRA sputters his lips. SLIDE #5 -- Johnny on the Moon. SOUND Q #12 -- “Flower Duet.” Slide of Johnny Moon shoots up. The choral part of Delibes’s “Flower Duet” plays. PENNY: Ohhhhhh, Johhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnny Moon! Beat. PENNY stares at the picture for a long time, suddenly breaking into a dance. Drawn to the slide, she embraces it, to EZRA’s increased agitation. EZRA: (barking) RUFF RUFF! Fade out sound. PENNY: Everyone loves them, everyone, even Ezra, loves them! EZRA: Henry Ford created the assembly line, creating mass production, creating mass-marketed messiahs on crosses of Velcro… Seven Up: manufactured, soulless, hip-gyrating robots… hence, the true troubadours of globalization! Beat. PENNY: You see, Ezra loves them! So there I was in my room, listening to their debut track, “Sincerely Yours”… “For if my life is a love letter, that letter is yours, the end being signed… ‘Sincerely Yours.’”…

Okay, the first time I heard that song? … My heart’s getting all giddy and floody bloody right now… (to herself) Chill, Penny. Chill. (to the audience) I wish I could just sing you the song, but I can’t on account of my shrink… and the restraining order… I mean, how do you explain music. (EZRA produces a ukulele, hands it to PENNY.) Well, okay, lookit I did write this song… a song I composed after I heard “Sincerely Yours”… I play an instrument, this is my axe Shaneekwa. Okay, so here goes… (She plays the ukulele.) (singing) Every twenty-four hours or so, The earth it spins around, One part day, one part night, Depending where you’re standing on the ground. And in between the turning, Babies walking, talking, lesson learning, there might come one day when you resolve, (talking) What’s the point, we all die, and all love dissolves But then I hear you singing, (singing) No matter where you roam, You are not alone, All through history, Walking hand in hand in misery (talking) Dear Johnny, we haven’t met before, but I feel we’ve met a hundred times in the republic of my dreams. I don’t want to freak you out of anything, but before your music… I thought I was destined to die alone… you know, to be one of those people that you read about in the papers that people only realize are dead because their bodies start to stink. But you restored my faith through your genius… I don’t just hear the most kick-ass awesome pop music ever… in your music, I can see history -- like, eternity -- and my place in it. For in your voice, I understand I am a note, in a bar, in a movement, of a song, of a symphony of music! A symphony that builds to an orgasmic, rapturous crescendo. A state of bliss so overbearing it literally hurts! Building, building, BUILDING, BUILDING, BUILDING, BUUUUUUUUUILDIIIIIIIIIING! … (singing) No matter where you roam, You are not alone, All throughout history, Walking hand in hand in misery And that’s the closest I can explain how I felt when I heard Johnny Moon sing “Sincerely Yours” for the first time. (unenthusiastic as hell) Oh… and Tony Capellu raps a little on it… Something like, “Champagne in the brain in Spain,” which was good… ish. ANYWAY, the band proved crazy prolific, producing over three short years a staggering hundred and sixty-eight albums, and that’s not even including their holiday albums -- Christmas, Easter, President’s Day -- EZRA: Ramadan.

PENNY: You couldn’t even swing a cat without hitting a Seven Up song. Radio, TV, internet chat rooms, key chains, T-shirts. I had finally tapped into something everyone liked. I was finally cool -- for, like, two seconds! EZRA: (pulling out the Barbies in the puppet theatre) Seven Up is so five minutes ago! All their songs sound like they were written by a retarded child on a Tilt-A-Whirl… the only ones who listen to them are, like, zit-faced Twinkies and -- PENNY: Lesbians, you were going to say. Lesbians, right? (The Barbies cackle.) Tee-hee, tee-hee. PENNY: The critical mass had turned on Seven Up, like a pack of Pharisees. SOUND Q #13 -- Tchaikovsky’s “Russian Dance.” PENNY: An angry toothless mob howling for their death! And all who believed in the universal message of “Love” were branded with the mark of Cain! Kids breaking into my room, writing little thought bubbles on my Johnny Moon posters saying, “I like it up the bum-bum” and “I like to suck pee-pee”! Only they didn’t write “pee-pee” or “bum-bum”! Johnny! Poor Johnny. A living walking set-up for an endless series of punchlines. Seven Up stuck together as long as they could -- soon doing only concerts in Eastern Europe. But then… tragedy struck. Billy Benton was swarmed by an angry throng of pre-teens in Moscow for his three-hundred-dollar tennis shoes -- dragged to the centre of Red Square -- and ripped apart like a chicken cutlet… Fade out sound. PENNY: After the funeral, the band broke up. Johnny tried to keep his dignity, but soon found himself… making celebrity testimonials in infomercials, singing songs about Viagra and vacuum cleaner nozzles.. then whoosh, he vanished! I wrote him a few times. EZRA: Three thousand, five hundred and sixty-seven times. PENNY: Right. And one day he sent me a real letter… and actual letter. Ezra! SOUND Q #14 -- Johnny’s letter. EZRA: (as Johnny) Dear Penny, thank you for being my greatest fan, my most loyal fan. In fact, these days, my only fan… Always keep the faith, girl… Sincerely yours, Johnny Moon-moon-moon… Headshot enclosed-closed-closed-closed. Beat.

PENNY pulls out his headshot and kisses it, on the verge of tears. PENNY: But then, then! After a painful year, feeling half-dead, I come across a small little ad in a crummy magazine… “Johnny Moon’s New Solo Album, soon to be released in an HMV near you!” A solo album? … A solo album?! A solo album! I wait two painstaking months! The day before his new release, I stayed up all night -- by the record store -- I wanted to be the first to hear his new magnum opus. Fade out sound. PENNY: I run into the record store, grab the CD and without looking I run home and throw it in my CD player! I throw on the first track… every cilium in my ears is taut with anticipation of Johnny’s unfettered muse breaking forth in all her glory! SOUND Q #15 -- Ezra’s rap. A haunting rap beat plays. EZRA enters with a microphone. He raps rhythmically -- but without any characterization of an actual rapper. EZRA: (toasting) Yo! Yo! This is JK-47, Been dope since 9/11 Yo, I’z gotz something to say that’s real rich, So listen up, bee-yotch. (rapping) So you’re looking at me, ya sucka’ MC? You wanna come at me like you’re fucking Bruce Lee? When you’re this big, bee-yotch, they call ya mistah, And if you don’t believe me, go and ask your sistah, If she’s not home I know another, Here’s a quarter, little bitch, go and call your mother, Yo! I got style, I gotz the grace, I go out with the ladies and I punch ‘em in the face, So rip off your panties, take off your bra, Tonight I’m going to fuck you wit’ my chainsaw. … Fuck you wit’ my chainsaw, fuck you wit’ my chainsaw, fuck you wit’ my chainsaw -- PENNY screams. Cut out sound. PENNY: (screaming) Urrgh! I can’t take it! ENOUGH! STOP! (trembling) Johnny’s Moon was now eclipsed… In his solo effort, sweet, loving Johnny had morphed into… EZRA & PENNY: JK-47! SOUND Q #16 -- JK-47 underbeat.

Sound plays out or fades. SLIDES #6 to #10 -- JK-47 (five slides of JK-47 in various gangsta poses). PENNY: (shaking) JK-47, a frat boy puking up solid black venomous bile, rubbing his dingle like it was his lucky rabbit’s foot. His new album called The 6 B’s! stood for booze, bluntz, the name for a female dog, the bling-bling and… no one knows what the last B stands for. I dunno? Band-Aids? Bosnia?! I listened to all twenty-six unrelenting tracks, with the relish of a Rabbi being force-fed a hotdog. Well it appeared little mister-potty-mouth had come up a long way from singing with a Sea Cow about “Eating your Broccoli.” And, of course, talking about his days growing up in the ‘hood. Yes -- his days in the mean old ‘hood. In -- Portland, OREGON! But I had faith this was a blip, a glitch, no one would actually subject themselves to this musical rape! … It wouldn’t sell, the critics would tear him apart, his fans would turn on him, he would -- EZRA: “Fuck You Wit’ My Chainsaw” became bigger than “Macarena,” “Who Let The Dogs Out” and “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” combined. PENNY: Every critic was heralding JK-47 as the Bob Dylan of our generation. Oh, I can see the comparison -- “The Times They Are A-Changin’” to “F’You Wit’ My Chainsaw.” EZRA: (as a critic, in the puppet booth) Five stars out of five. JK-47 is the real thing. He’s angry, he’s white and he just doesn’t give a fuck! PENNY: EZRA! “FUDGE,” NOT F-MM-UCK! EZRA: I just gangster rapped about copulating with a power tool. PENNY: Fine! And that… song! It was everywhere! Action figures of JK-47 and his ex-girl, Sandy… with a detachable head! OH SANDY came with many novel accessories a gal can’t be without these days -- a toe-tag and a fake suicide note for the cops! T-shirts! Pepsi cans! Even our own priest -- a man who referred to sex as “the Devil’s pilates” -- was now quoting the song liberally! And all the girls at that crummy school were all loving Johnny again! Of course! (to the audience) So all those domeless wonder girls are all, like -- EZRA: (Barbies, in the puppet theatre) Hey, Pen’, you still like JK-47? He’s so dreamy. PENNY: Yeah, you’d have a swell date with him, maybe he’d bring his chainsaw. EZRA: (Barbies) He’s being ironical. Gawd, you’re such a lesbian femi-Nazi. PENNY: Listen to me, Jezebels! You wouldn’t know irony if it crawled up your ass to start a soup kitchen -- to feed its three starving friends -- Wit! Integrity! and Intelligence! (to the audience) I was suspended

for saying the word “ass” -- Now, I lie in my room, glaring at the newspaper. I bought every newspaper I could find with JK-47. I couldn’t look away. It was a train wreck… Beat. PENNY: Anyway, I pick up and read the letter Johnny wrote me -- when he wasn’t the anti-Johnny… Blinded with tears, I can scarcely see, and I drop the letter. The letter lands on a paper from the Orlando Sentinel… announcing a CD-signing in JK-47’s new chain of nightclubs, (murmuring) the Bitch Slap… I look at it… Beat. PENNY: Of course! I love this man, I believe in this man, I have faith in this man! I adore this man! I didn’t want to go to Orlando! I just had to go… So I came up with this plan; Ezra, had some drug money… Johnny’s favorite coffee is a special blend, named after him. It’s called the Moonbeam, and only sold at the Space Needle in Seattle, Washington. EZRA & PENNY: The Moonbeam! A no-fat double latte -- EZRA: A thrilling mixture of Zapatista Dark Roast… PENNY: Castro Morning Blend… EZRA: Che Guevara Decaf, and the secret ingredient not disclosed -- EZRA & PENNY: On pain of death! PENNY: I would get his coffee… bring it to him -- and he would have no choice but to hear me out! I would go all the way to Johnny’s CD-signing at (mumbling) the Bitch Slap in Orlando… We had a week to get there by bus, and eight hundred and seventy dollars! EZRA: Several vials of Ritalin and Dexedrine. PENNY: By sundown we were on our way to the land of liberty -- SOUND Q #17 -- “Star-Spangled Banner.” EZRA: Silicone breasts and fundamentalists. EZRA & PENNY: Otherwise known as the USA! Sound fades out. PENNY: We took the bus. Ez’ wouldn’t fly with an American terror alert at level Ernie.

EZRA: The American Homeland Security Advisory System, for potential travelers to the USA. SLIDE #11 -- Homeland Security EZRA: Levels of terror, in order of safe to deadly, SOUND Q #18 -- Homeland Security Sound plays out. EZRA: Oscar the Grouch, you can slouch; Cookie Monster, do not stir; Bert, be very pert; Ernie, pack a gurney… Lastly, Tickle Me Elmo, take a bow, chump, it’s time to go… PENNY: Ez’ won’t fly at any terror rating higher than a Cookie Monster. Anyway! We board a Greyhound for our cross-country pilgrimage! I am giddy with the anticipation… Wondering… Would I, like Kerouac, find the true spirit of this American land? … We arrive at the -- EZRA & PENNY: United States border crossing! PENNY: Now the nice customs officer -- EZRA: A total jingoistic bastard. PENNY: Well, he wanted to know why two young people were traveling without the accompaniment of a parental unit, he went up to Ezra and said, (in customs voice, holding a He-Man action figure) “Aren’t you two a little bit young to be traveling by yourselves?” EZRA: (to PENNY) I’ll handle this… (to customs of icer) Hello, my good man, excellent work you’re doing keeping the Hun at bay. This is for you. EZRA slips some money in PENNY’s hand. PENNY: I don’t take bribes -- and besides, that’s only a Loonie. Look, son, where are your parents? EZRA: Well, if you really must know… (crying) SOUND Q #19 -- Sentimental music. EZRA: This is very hard to speak about, you understand -- tragic really -- they were taking a cruise to Israel… when… the ship was seized… they were both tortured and killed by agents of the… Al-Qaeda… Penny wants to light a candle in Salt Lake City… You see, we’re devout Mormons. My father always said he’d rather be a pile of ashes in America than alive anywhere else in the world. Daddy…

Sound fades out. SOUND Q #20 -- “American Woman.” Sound fades out. EZRA & PENNY: Seattle, Washington. The Evergreen State. PENNY: Thirty-one endangered species, including the Grizzly Bear. SLIDE #12 -- Homeland Security EZRA: Terror alert has sunk to a balmy Cookie Monster. PENNY: We get off the bus, and I run to the Space Needle; with money in hand, I ask for a pound of the Moonbeam. It cost a bit. EZRA: A hundred and twenty dollars. PENNY: But well worth it for its rich aromatic blend of famous Latin American revolutionaries. I wondered what the secret ingredient is. Well, after the coffee… well, we kind of already spent our money, so we started -- EZRA: Hustling my medication for dead presidents. PENNY: We just went up to people, struck up conversations, and Ezra’s concentration pills sold like hotcakes… By the end of the day we had enough money for two bus tickets and a meal at McDonald’s! EZRA & PENNY: Ohhhh, McDonald’s! PENNY: You see, we kids at Elysium never, I mean ever, got to go to the “McDonald’s,” that was like a cardinal sin. Eating at McDonald’s was like -- EZRA: Drinking your grandfather’s semen. PENNY: Ugh, Ez’… Okay, gross. Gross! SLIDE #13 -- McDonald’s. A slide comes up of PENNY and EZRA standing outside McDonald’s. PENNY: So we actually got to go to the Golden Arches for the first time! Anyway, it was super awesome. The music! The sights! The sounds! We hadn’t even had anything like a Pepsi before. Now, I’m a pescetarian -- which means I only eat fish; even though I feel bad for them, I can’t relate to them at all. So

I had the Filet-O-Fish and Ezra got the Chicken McNuggets Happy Meal. We never had Happy Meals before; they’re super awesome! EZRA: They made me… happy. PENNY: They came with free toys! Free cross-promotional toys! EZRA: I got Action Man on a snowmobile. PENNY: I got Rapping Rock ‘n’ Roll Barbie. Seattle rules! We waved goodbye to the Space Needle and all the good people we dealt concentration pills to and boarded the Greyhound. Dance transition. SOUND Q #21 -- LA. Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: Los Angeles, California! The Golden State! PENNY: One hundred and eleven endangered species, including the Kangaroo Rat. SLIDE #14 - Homeland Security. EZRA: Terror alert miraculously drops to lovely Oscar the Grouch! PENNY: A whopping one hundred milligrams of Ritalin and Dexedrine. EZRA & PENNY: We go to McDonald’s for Happy Meals. SLIDE #15 -- McDonald’s. PENNY: I get Hollywood Hair Barbie. EZRA: I get a Fry Guy in a fire truck. It amused me. He laughs for the first time in the entire play, a stifled unnatural laugh. PENNY: We say goodbye to all the famous people in LA and board the Greyhound. Dance transition. SOUND Q #22 -- Las Vegas.

Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: Las Vegas, Nevada! The Silver State! PENNY: There are twenty-six endangered species, including the Virgin River Chub. SLIDE #16 -- Homeland Security. EZRA & PENNY: Two hundred milligrams of Ritalin and Dexedrine. PENNY: We go to McDonald’s. Get Happy Meals. SLIDE #17 -- McDonald’s. PENNY: I get Babe the Pig. I ask if I can get a toy that isn’t actually on the menu. EZRA: I get a condom. SOUND Q #23 -- Utah. Dance transition. Restore. Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: Salt Lake City, Utah. PENNY: Mormon central. EZRA & PENNY: (danger trill) Dun-dun-daaaaaa! Ten-second pause, as the kids freeze in pose. PENNY: Mormons are creepy. Twenty-one endangered species, including the Utah Valvata Snail. SLIDE #18 -- Homeland Security. EZRA: Due to a scandal in Washington, terror alert rises to a freezing Bert. PENNY: No concentration pills are sold. SLIDE #19 -- McDonald’s. EZRA & PENNY: We both get Mormon pamphlets in our Happy Meals.

EZRA: Making me extremely un-happy. In fact, downright fuck -- SOUND Q #24 -- Texas. Dance transition. Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: San Antonio, Texas! The Lone Star State! PENNY: Twenty-eight endangered species, including the Helotes Mold Beetle. SLIDE #20 -- Homeland Security. EZRA: The Terror has begun. TICKLE ME ELMO’S REIGN OF NATIONAL TERROR HAS NOW BEGUN! EZRA & PENNY: Ten milligrams of Ritalin. PENNY: We go to McDonald’s. Get Happy Meals. I get Cool Country Barbie. EZRA: I got a junior membership to the NRA. SOUND Q #25 -- Alabama. Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: Montgomery, Alabama! Yellowhammer State! PENNY: There are eighty-eight endangered species, including the Cumberland Monkeyface. SLIDE #21 -- Homeland Security. EZRA: Ugh! To be in Alabama while Elmo’s red furry paw has the country by the nuts. PENNY: I get a crushed beer can. EZRA: I get a Jim Crow Let’s Go A-lynchin’ Kit. SOUND Q #26 -- Florida. Dance transition. Sound plays out.

EZRA & PENNY: Orlando, Florida! The Sunshine State! AT LAST! ANNNNNNND JAZZ HANDS! They do jazz hands. PENNY: There are fifty-six endangered species, including the Choctawhatchee Beach Mouse. EZRA: And American-style democracy. PENNY: Well, we were pretty stinky, having been on the bus for seven days. I wanted to get to a Howard Johnson for a bath, a nap and some other food. Any food other than McDonald’s. EZRA: I was developing the first stages of scurvy. PENNY: When we get to the room I take a shower. I plop into the bed, but I can’t sleep! So I get my Sincerely Yours CD… and then we walk down to the local Starbucks and pay them twenty dollars to make the Moonbeam. We leave with a steaming batch of the brew in our ultra-seal Thermos -- that way it will remain hot for up to twelve hours. EZRA: Steaming, boiling, piping-hot Moonbeam. Remember that. PENNY: We arrive in line at the (murmuring) Bitch Slap. There is a line-up like -- EZRA: A sparkly line of white suburban boys in baseball caps and squishy shoes. PENNY: Oh BOY! All these guys are going to be in for a big surprise after I get to him. I wait for three hours in line, with the patience of a sphinx. EZRA pulls out a baby doll in a bonnet, who represents the bouncer. EZRA: (in home-boy, with puppet) Yo! You got any ID? PENNY: ID? EZRA: (home-boy baby) You need ta’ be twenty-one to get into the Bitch Slap. PENNY: But… I’ve come… all the way from Uranium City, Saskatchewan. EZRA: (baby) Don’t madder to me. No ID, no entry. Ged’ away from the door, bitch! (to PENNY) Let me handle this. EZRA falls down on the ground and has a seizure.

PENNY: (mechanically) Oh my God! That little boy is having a seizure! We must get him on his stomach before he swallows his tongue… (to the audience) The bouncer goes to Ezra. I sneak into the (murmuring) Bitch Slap. SOUND Q #27 -- Club beat. EZRA gets up and begins arranging his human size puppet in a chair. The puppet resembles JK-47, all macked out with a tennis hat cocked to one side and gold chains. The puppet should be revolting-looking, like a corpse with decaying flesh. On its shoulder EZRA places his monkey puppet, who acts as D-Dawg. PENNY: Strobe lights are flashing. It’s covered with a throng of pimple-faced scowling white kids in parkas, looking down at their feet, grabbing their dingles through their oversized jeans. I’ve never been to a bathhouse before, but this certainly feels like one. There is a short line leading to a solid white desk. I can hear Johnny’s voice, his real, live flesh-and-blood voice! She turns. PENNY: I see him! … Look, girls, he’s even dreamier in person! He’s sitting in his chair scowling as he signs CDs, without looking up. I recognize his sidekick from his new album, D-Dawg, As I walk up to him, my legs buckle. I feel as if I could tell him everything and nothing at the same time. Yet the moment I see his blue eyes look into mine, I know this is going to go just swell. PENNY proudly walks up to JK-47 holding her Thermos. She is nervous and smiling. She slides her Sincerely Yours CD onto his desk. She plays the rest of the scene to the audience, as though she is facing JK-47. PENNY: (really fast) Hello, I’m Penny Lamb, your greatest, greatest fan. Oh God! I feel like I have so much to say to you, I could explode… Would you believe I’ve come all the way from Uranium City, Saskatchewan to see you -- that’s in Canada -- and, no, I don’t have a dogsled -- bad joke -- I’m so nervous -- I was homeschooled -- I mean until they sent me to this school where everyone called me a lesbian. Anyway, along the way I picked up something very special. Mr. Johnny Moon, in this airtight Thermos is your… Moonbeam. Taa-daa! Yes, your favorite drink, brought alllll the way here to you, for you, by me. With the secret ingredient that cannot be revealed on pain of death. A gift from me… to you. For the gift you gave me. For because of you, I know something about true love. Look, I don’t believe in good and evil -- I think believing you are, like, an evil, rotten little dude in a black hat who thinks he’s so darn good that he can, I dunno, blow people up? -- But I do believe in love and hate. There are two roads to go down, Johnny… There is the Lover Lane, or the Super Hate Highway. I fear -- because the world’s been so heartless to you -- you’ve gone down the latter. Beat. PENNY smiles at the puppet. The puppet begins shaking its head.

EZRA: (manipulating JK-47) Get this bee-yotch out’ here ‘for I smack this crazy-ass ho. PENNY: Wh-wha… What?! EZRA: (JK-47) Yo’z heard me, bee-yotch, I got no time for no shiznit from no corny-ass teeny boppahs. I’m JK-47! (referring to a character of stage) T-Bone! Get this ho out of hee-rah. (EZRA manipulates the monkey puppet as D-Dawg, who has a high voice.) Yah, he don’t got time for you, he’s JK-47. T-Bone, T-Bone! PENNY: B-b-b-but I brought you a coffee all the way from the Space Needle. EZRA: Yo, Skeezah, I gotz a closet full of that shyyit. I’m JK-47! T-Bone! (monkey puppet) He’s JK-47! T-Bone! T-BONE! T-BONE! PENNY: Yes, but… it… doesn’t have the secret ingredient… It couldn’t! They’d kill whoever leaked it. EZRA: (JK-47) Bitch, it’s cinnamon! Even D-Dawg know that, and he’s a crackhead. Boo-ya! I’m JK-47! T-BONE! PENNY: Cinnamon… I-I-I-I’ve traveled all that way… for cinnamon. EZRA: (monkey puppet) It’s cimamin, even I know that, and I’m a crackhead. It’s cimamin. T-BONE! T-BONE! Beat. PENNY begins to cry. EZRA: (JK-47) What? You g’wan cry… little skank. Smack you up, beee-yotch, ‘cause I’m -- PENNY: JK-47! YES! I BELIEVE THAT’S BEEN (containing) established. She pulls out her letter. PENNY: Just -- here, I haven’t read you my letter yet. It’s really quick. (reading) Dear Johnny, we haven’t met before, but I feel we’ve met a hundred times in the republic of my -- EZRA: (monkey puppet) T-Bone! T-Bone! PENNY: (to the audience) T-BONE finally enters, all 350 pounds of him! I can hear his footfalls over the music, he’s like an albino King Kong! All the suburban boys form a circle around me, swearing, grabbing

their dingles, spitting! I have to read this letter! (to JK-47) Dear Johnny, we haven’t met before, but I feel

EZRA: (JK-47) I’m JK-47! T-BONE! (monkey puppet) He’s JK-47! T-BONE! T-BONE!

PENNY: Dear Johnny, we haven’t met -- (to the audience) T-BONE grabs me. Ezra leaps on T-BONE, knocking him to the ground. Ezra disappears in the folds of massive flesh, like a ball-bearing dropped in a vat of vanilla pudding! (to JK-47) Dear Johnny, we haven’t met before but -- PENNY: (reading) Hello, my NAME is PENNY LAMB and -- EZRA: (JK-47) What are you, anyway, bee-yotch? (monkey puppet) T-Bone! T-Bone! PENNY: Hello, my name is Penny Lamb, we haven’t met before -- EZRA: I know’z what you be, ho! PENNY: Hell -- EZRA: (JK-47) You be one of them… lesbians. You be one of them -- PENNY: Right. Hello, my name -- EZRA: (JK-47) Femamist lesbian. PENNY: Hello, my name is… She turns to the puppet. Fade out sound. PENNY: What did you just say? EZRA: (JK-47) … I said, you iz… a femamist… lesbian. (monkey puppet) Femamist lesbian, femamist lesbian, (echo) lesbian, lesbian, lesbian… lesbian… lesbian… PENNY: You see, that’s what I thought you said. SOUND Q #28 -- Epic build. The sound of a clap of thunder. “Montagues and Capulets” by Prokofiev plays. PENNY is suddenly bathed in a red spotlight. PENNY turns slowly to the audience with a wide psychotic expression on her face, both her knuckles balled up. PENNY: (hissing) Hello, my name is Penny Lamb… and I know FOR A FACT… we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting before… For you, my deep-fried messiah, are about to be welcomed to a level of leveling you have yet to revel, for now I, Penny Lamb, am the Devil… come now to SEND YOU TO THE REPUBLIC OF…. HELL.

Ohhhh! THE FAITH YOU create as an attraction MUST PROVIDE SATISFACTION… AND… OR… HELL… For now I do not merely want to hurt you, Johnny… No, no, no… Mm-mm. I want… to TASTE YOU. Bite! Into your flesh with my incisors. Have your skin corrode in the BOILING lava cauldron that is now my stomach! PENNY IS ECLIPSED! THE BURNING SUN HAS PASSED OVER THE PASSIVE MOON! I can vomit fire.

She turns and throws the contents of the Thermos (brown confetti) in the puppet’s face. She grabs it by the head. I! … CAN! … VOMIT! … (screaming) FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRE! Fade out sound. She sinks her teeth into the puppet and disappears behind the desk. The lights go back to normal. EZRA stands on the stage blinking. EZRA stares at the audience awkwardly. He picks up his monkey and holds it nervously… Suddenly, he comes up with an idea. EZRA: Ladies and Gentlemen. In these troubled times! I know the question on all your lips. A question for which tonight I shall provide you with satisfaction. For now for the first time in the history of mankind, we shall dare to ask the question! Can a mere puppet break the theatrical fourth wall -- the wall between audience and performer. SOUND Q #29 -- Monkey. Sound plays out. A drum roll plays. EZRA opens up his puppet theatre. His monkey stands in the puppet theatre in profile. The monkey ever-so-slowly turns its head to the audience. The drum roll stops. To the sound of roaring applause, the monkey bows and exits the puppet theatre. PENNY stands up sheepishly, with a waning smile, holding a piece of paper. PENNY: (sheepishly) Anyway… um… after that whole Johnny cheek-biting incident thingy… fortunately for me, Johnny’s public relations firm thought it best that he drop all of the charges.

Apparently, JK-47 having the caa-caa beaten out of him by some fifteen-year-old girl, what with him being a “stone-cold bad-ass who shoots people to watch them bleed” -- that was pretty bad for his “rep”… Anyway. I was extradited back to Canada. But sadly… the story was leaked to the major media. It ruined JK-47’s “street cred” and they have some new “stone-cold, bad-ass” flavour-of-the-month now… I dunno… Ron the Rapping Rapist, or something… And… I was kind of famous for a bit. They even made a movie of the week of my real, live true-life story… JoJo played me. EZRA: I was played by one of the Culkin boys. PENNY: Anyway, I stood trial for drug dealing -- they gave me probation. And that’s when Miss Peachery -- my social worker -- asked me to talk to you all here tonight. To teach you all how to be better citizens… and never turn out like me… And I’ve got some lessons for you. (slowly) Never shoplift, jaywalk, beat up kids, swear, knock on people’s doors and run, be mean to overweight people, talk back to your parents. Stop, drop and roll. Never let your uncle touch you in places you feel uncomfortable with. Don’t do drugs, Unless they are prescribed by a licensed practitioner of the psychiatric profession… and… Lastly, I want to say I know something about true love. And I know most of you guys wouldn’t think I would… ‘Cause I’m, like, this psycho cannibal kid… But this… this is something I’ve thought about my entire life, okay? So. True Love. True love is, like, when they call you up and tell you, “Oh my God, my Mongolian Gerbil just died!” You’re not all, like, “My condolences” or “My heart goes out to you in your time of need.” Like some toy robot that can wind itself up… barfing out ten shiny socially acceptable stock phrases. No, when your true love calls… it goes way beyond that. Way. SOUND Q #30 -- Music Box. Sound plays out. PENNY: Like, when they call you up and say, “My mom is a cud-mulching cow,” their mom is a cud-mulching cow. But when they call you back and say, “I changed my mind, my mom is an angel with gossamer wings.” Guess what, their mom is an angel with gossamer wings… Oh, and I really like that word… “gossamer.” There are some really amazing words in English -- for such a crummy language… Anyway… Okay let me put it to you straight and simple because we don’t got all day, and everybody’s got to get places. (whispering, slowly) In a world where we are ultimately alone, and die in our own arms, love is the closest you come to another person… because it is the closest you come to being another person. So be very careful what you love.

Beat. PENNY: Penny Lamb. Aspiring animal conservationist. Signing out. Beat. PENNY: You got anything to add, Ez’? EZRA: Yes… Wrestling is real -- it’s the world that’s set up. Beat. PENNY: (brightly) Hm. Blackout. SOUND Q #31 -- Curtain call.

[rhysands-rightknee]

I was curious how you feel about the whole SJM Zionist allegations. I looked it up myself and the only thing k found was of an interview from 2015 where she said she made a birthright trip to Israel because she’s Jewish and also that her grandmother is an Israeli soldier. Is an interview from 8 years ago really worth ending someone’s career?

Hi! This is going to be a long post hehe :)) but if you look through my #SarahJMaas hashtag I've made various posts about this topic.

I am against cancel culture, unless crimes against humanity are committed. We can't coexist with people like that. In this case, ending someone's (SJM's) career does not resolve the issue and does more harm than good. By canceling someone, we alienate and cultivate hate when we have to acknowledge that we do not have a utopian planet. We are far from that. People will come from environments where racism, sexism, white supremacy, anti-Semitism, zionism, and homophobia are normalized. Now, that's an explanation for these behaviors, but not an excuse. Especially in this day and age where information can be easily attained. My past posts emphasize that people's opinions and perspectives WILL change with the times and with new information. Everyone and their mother on the internet act like you can't be ignorant and you have to be correct all the time. We are shooting each other on the foot by not acknowledging we are flawed humans. We can learn, and will continue to do so for all of your lives.

Now, we have horrific footage coming out of Palestine by the hour. We are seeing the first televised genocide on our phones!!!! The fact that this has been occurring for months now is shameful and if this behavior is normalized we are F U C K E D. No other human issue being debated will matter if governments and those in power cannot even acknowledge your humanity with empathy and compassion. The events of October 7th were horrific on both sides, but empathy does not run for just one side. It's for everyone. And the violence committed on these lands started in 1948 when the state of Israel stole the lands of the Palestinian people. They bled upon people who NEVER harmed them to begin with.

My issue with SJM lies here: when you have organizations such as Jewish Voices For Peace (JVP) and the international courts of the United Nations calling this massacre a GENOCIDE and you (sjm) having millions of followers, being an INTERNATIONAL best seller, choosing to remain silent YOU ARE BEING COMPLICIT. You cannot call yourself a human of faith if you as a Jew, a Christian, a Muslim, etc decide not to speak out. And if you lack that much empathy, then your God and holy book have truly failed you.

SJM has a platform no one else will ever have. She makes a post and thousands see it. To speak highly of the state of Israel in the past where now we have images, videos, and testimonies of suvivors depicting soldiers killing and burying nurses and doctors alive (Al Shifa Hospital) + the United Nations condemning you for genocide and STILL choosing to remain silent, knowing what you know NOW, should call for a public shame. And if this continues, I will pirate her books from here on out because I will not financially support someone who lacks that much empathy.

[lifesfeelings]

First "Breakup"...

My favorite thing that I just noticed is that I really only come back to Tumblr when things aren't going well 😂 I always want to keep posting here, for my own records, but when I have somebody in my life to vent to, I forget that I have this space! but anyway... So, I posted about him a handful of times I think. Sebastian? We met on Tinder back in April and we've been steadily getting more and more relationship-y. I thought that I was stringing him along. I really liked him, and if I was gonna make a relationship work, it would have been him. We don't live in the same town, but we made the trip to each other a handful of times, we texted everyday, we always were talking about the future: our halloween costumes we'd do together, Christmas plans, shows we were gonna watch together, plans for me to meet his parents, etc. We never made anything official, but I thought he was down bad... I kinda was "losing interest." Not in the sense that I wanted any other guy, but I sometimes think I'm aromantic and I just felt like it was getting too real. I wanted to run away. But... since Saturday, I have in fact learned that I am probably not aromantic and that I instead just have issues... He ended it out of nowhere. I've been obliterated. I can't go more than a few hours without crying, and they've been titanic like meltdown sobs... I can't get homework done. I can't focus on anything. I just came to my office (knowing I have fucking office hours and my students can come in at any time), and just finished sobbing for about two hours straight. He said that he had "felt nothingness come over him" a few months ago and that he had hoped it would go away with time. He said he just had lost the spark. And it's been fucking UGLY... I spent the weekend doing everything I thought I could. I did everything I thought I could do to claw back at his heart. I told him how much he meant, I apologized profusely for being a bit more cold and reserved the last like two weeks. I wrote him a fucking letter basically telling him how torn the fuck up I am and that I respect his choice but I'll be there if he changes his mind. I keep trying to think of the fucking perfect string of words that will move him, the "romantic acts" I could try, the posts that will get his attention... And it's just an endless cycle having to remind myself that it's over. This wasn't some skirmish or something I was doing that I can correct. He, in his heart of hearts, just truly doesn't feel it for me anymore. And he tried to let me down easily, but I kept pushing and the more I reread his texts the more clear it is to me that he has nothing for me... He said he wanted to be friends and all that. He said that maybe in time things will change. But in the letter, I basically told him that I wasn't going to hold my breath but that it would be a good while until I was done. That he could come back and I'd be there. and he basically was like "I hope that this hasn't ruined future endeavors or made you more hesitant with guys in the future" and was just politely basically telling me that it's not fucking happening... I just don't think I've been this wholly destroyed... My grandma passed away a year ago (in two days actually...). She was my best friend and the love of my life. And, this feels cringey to even be saying and thinking, but I've been taking this harder than I took that... I could bottle with her death. I could put it away and pretend that I'd be okay. I was able to keep going. This stuff with Sebastian has stopped my life. It feels like I lost the one thing that was keeping me here in line. I think between moving away from my past life, and starting a new school and new jobs in a new city.... I think Sebastian became my only rock and the only thing I could count on in my life that kept me grounded. and now he's just gone without warning. without anything I can do. I don't know what to do... I'm eviscerated. I just want this life to stop for a little bit.

10.09.23

[thinkpink212]

I live away from family too! Gosh, its been so hard, and with little to no friends I feel like I am loosing it! Any advice on how to deal and stuff? <3

Aww boo I hear you!

Keep in touch, but not too much Knowing how your loved ones are and communicating how you are, seem to always help me a great deal. But remember that a little distance is good when its healthy distance. What I mean is, make sure you are still doing your thing; working, cultivating your hobbies, staying on top of chores etc. Keep in touch with your family and friends, but also keep busy so that your mind doesn't constantly fixate on their absence. What ill do... ♡ Facetime my fav cousin from time to time. ♡ Call (or voice message) with my mom whenever were free ♡ Evening and morning texts with my closest friend (and try not to reply in the middle of the day unless it is urgent or I truly have time) ♡ Schedule meetups/trips in advance, especially with friends! Now a month like May is a little more special because you get to see your people for a few days! ♡ Randomly messaging "Hi, how are you" to my younger cousins who I don't think know how to really talk to me fully but have expressed their wish for more communication. Even if it is short interactions', I always ask for cool pictures from their week, updates etc.

Remind yourself why you aren't there but here It is important to always remember where you came from, why you are here and why you must stay! Sure, sometimes the justifications don't seem worth the loneliness, but trust me, at the end you will see how much you've achieved! Find people where you are, a temporary (with potential of permanence) family This could be via groups on facebook, sports classes, church, cool events happening around town. Get out there and meet people. But also remind yourself that being in a cowed or even a small gather, cannot fix the loneliness - but at least you could be distracted and having fun for a few hours! You are not alone!

Be prepared to ask for help, accept help but also the opposite Being alone means no one to lean on how you may have been able to before. Hard decisions, adulting and all of that is in your hands. You have to make the calls, schedule the appointments, make sure you're fed, clothed and good! But also, when it gets hard, ask for help; Need advice for your studies? ask your Guidance councilor(s), fellow students, professors etc. Confused about insurance? Call and ask all your 'stupid questions' (which, there is no such thing as a stupid question) Don't run from things and people trying to help. Of course have discernment, know when to say No Thank you, Ive Got it vs Thank you, Yes please. But (as said, the opposite can/will happen) Also know that you will ask for help, guidance, support and so on, and you will be given a No, here there and everywhere. Take those No's and place them next to the others and go on till you figure it out. You have to keep going!

Have savings This is always good to have, but having no family or people to truly rely on like that, its good to have a few $ in case something happens and you need to fly out, fly someone over or just cannot work (and there's no one to financially directly support you).

Have a Will This is a bit morbid, but in case anything happens to you, having a drawn up paper (can be made alongside a lawyer or just you writing it on paper, and signing) where you declare what you want done in case of your death, debilitation, accidents etc. You can also delegate your things! It lowkey helps me sleep a bit better knowing all of that is sorted. I have mine send to my email and as a file on my computer - but some people keep it with their passport etc.

Lastly, take care of yourself. Don't let nostalgia trick you into remembering times as being better due to loneliness (this is how you end up with toxic people from your past and attracting them to your presence). Your time is valuable, treat is like so! xo

[rhodes-music]

Hi everyone! I’m so happy to announce the release of my new album ‘Friends Like These’! The full album will finally be yours on 27th January 2023 and the title track is available to stream NOW! LISTEN & PRE-SAVE HERE I’m so beyond grateful for all of your patience and support and I wanted to write a few words about the journey and how I came to release my second album more than 7 years after my first! So here goes… My emotions are mixed looking back on the last few years. I’ve been afforded some unimaginable experiences so far in my artistic pursuit of the next thing, but I’ve also been to some of the lowest depths imaginable to me. My constant need for creation and expression always keeps me here but it has been the love and support given to me by my closest friends and collaborators and my fans that have held me up when I needed it most. I will forever be indebted to you all and this is what led me to the album title song ‘Friends like These’. Growing up I never really had a place to belong, I would shift and change and move around. I would gravitate toward the most intense and all-encompassing thing I could find and obsess over it. Most of the time it’d fizzle out and I’d end up feeling abandoned and sad until the next thing came along. As I think about it now, I see that my anxiety and self-destructive nature caused me to run as far away from myself and my reality as I possibly could and I also see now how this has filtered out into my music and art. Almost like it is my place to hide. I am intense in life and music and I’ve changed direction so many times since releasing ‘Wishes’ in 2015, this is partly to do with industry pressures but also to do with my own lack of self-assuredness and it’s only in the last couple of years that I’ve realised and trust that it is my own voice and honesty that gives me a greater sense of acceptance and peace. I’ve been desperately trying to finish something I can call ‘my second album’ since early 2017. I’ve released singles and features, an EP, toured extensively and actually I’ve recorded and scrapped two full records, one in 2017 & one in 2019, after what seemed like endless, endless writing trips back and forth from the US and London and facing constant rejection from the team I had at the time. All of this whilst working my way out of some extremely toxic and damaging working relationships and trying hard to maintain my personal relationships and navigate my way around starting a little family of my own. ‘Friends Like These’ is 10 songs written over this period of time, some were written alone and in solitude and some were written in the middle of a drinking session with my best friends. All were written about moments of realisation, and reassurance, mostly they were born from night thoughts and dreams or conversations with very close friends about personal trauma and experience and trying to move beyond the feelings we cannot face alone. I picked out 10 songs out of about 100 that I thought best represented the chaos of my journey over the past few years both sonically and in narrative and just hit the studio to record them. It took a month to lay them down (with Rich Cooper) and then a lot longer on tweaks, mixing, additional production etc (with Rich Cooper & Ash Workman). There was one brand new song that I tagged on at the end (No Words) in replacement of one that didn’t turn out the way I wanted it (the song was called Despite All My Demons). The record is musically diverse and chaotic and this, I feel, is truly representative of my experience over the past few years of writing and finally now stumbling upon the right path with good friends, a good team and good people. I want this album to transcend all the things I thought it had to be and I want it to be heard and be a celebration of realisation, friendship and hope. My close friends are all over this record and if it wasn’t for them it wouldn’t exist. It took me a moment to get here but in such a chaotic and noisy world, I’ve always found that true beauty and clarity come in the pauses.

I’m also happy to announce that I’ll be playing a run of shows with Dotan across Europe this autumn and I will be doing a headline tour in the UK and Europe early next year.

All my love, always, Rhodes x 

[msgrumpygills]

- Jared tweeted this about Angelina jolie “I guess Angie has put on some lb’s. It was hard for me to count all of her ribs thru her dress.” I mean she has been suffering from anorexia !

- Jared doxxed an employee at live nation

- he doxxed an employee at American airs

- this is the video of him bribing the cops after assaulting his employee : https://youtu.be/EvFkbH-5va4

- he tweeted from Misha’s twitter account that he’s pro torture

- he called Kim’s vogue edition “ expensive smut “

- this was the statement of restaurant he doxxed : This is the problem with Social Media. This "movie star" was in B-

restaurant in MN. I am not sure of all the details other then I just got a

very, very upset call from her that this person has put her on his Facebook

page, slandering her. Yes, he was at her restaurant, and yes BE

Ican

be outspoken but she is NOT a mean person, and would help anybody.

Obviously this person has a large following and of course everyone is

jumping on the band wagon without even knowing the whole story here or

what took place between the two of them. She even tried to talk to him in

private to clear up any possible misunderstandings. She has never had

anything like this happen to her, and is very well liked by all her peers and

fellow coworkers and this person has the potential to ruin her life in one

sweep. She does not even have a twitter account nor does she evern

understand it. she is rarely even on her FB page (which she has taken

down). But someone is claiming she said mean things to this person via

Twitter. When he came into her restaurant she didn't even know who he

was, maybe he is pissed because of that. Either way, this is very, very

upsetting and another good example of how social media can really cause

a shit storm. She has no recourse as she does not have millions of

followers and now Lawyers etc. from her work have to get involved. I

seriously can't believe it.

the same anon who sent you Jared’s fuck ups

When a fan called Jared out on doxxing this was his reply : Thank you for iuing your opinions and your concern. You are, of course, entitled to both. As far as last night goes, I didn't receive "poor service". I didn't have mustard instead of mayonnaise on my burger, and she didn't give me too many or too few cubes of ice in my drink. The picture of her playing on her phone was the NICEST thing she did during the course of the evening....… No. I was subjected to a mean, spiteful human being. Period. She was mean. She was a bully. She, specifically, did several things that hurt mine (and our) feelings. She made me feel singled out and not welcome and "less than" (maybe you've been in the same situation before?). She ruined my night (if not my trip) in Minnesota. Furthermore, I'm not incredibly happy to have you express that you believe I'm not entitled to share my concerns or unhappiness because I'm a "celebrity". That's akin to the people who told me that I should be "happy" because I'm "successful", and that I shouldn't have "depression" or "anxiety" because "famous people" are so "lucky". And I very much don't appreciate being victim shamed, even though I'm "famous" and should just "deal with it and keep quiet about it. At the end of the day, I am a human being that breathes oxygen. The same as you. And, sometimes, there are people who hurt my feelings intensely and I want to reach out to my social media family to express my hurt and let y'all know that I, too, sometimes run into mean people who aim to ruin my day. As far as "keeping future grievances" more private? Simply put, no. I will not let you silence or censor me and my feelings the same way those in the past have tried to silence or censor or ignore or belittle my feelings. I've worked too hard for too long on myself to be told to take negativity that's sent my way, and shut up about it, just because I'm a "celebrity". I'm truly sorry that the existence of my hurt disappointed you, and I wish you peace and happiness. With love, jp. This was Jared’s reply to a harmless joke about Jared being Jared’s biggest fan : hey kayla, that hurts me. i have struggled with doubt and depression, no matter my position, and to read something like that makes me want to tell you, honestly, that this is for my friends and the fans, if you can't understand, then i am truly happy for you. But don't you ever try to imply that i am here for myself, how dare you. Please leave my Facebook and twitter pages. You are poison.

the same anon ,

This is his reply to a teen fan who just joked about don’t talk about dean : I saw it. It's hurtful.…. I wish you nothing but the best in your life. I wish you peace. I hope that the phenomenal folks that support me don't cause you any more strife and pain than you're already going through. You will be whoever you want to be.

sorry if this got too long and its okay if you want to ignore this .

Whew! So I apologize for taking a while to respond, I had read these messages the other day and just got so annoyed at Jared and his behavior so I needed to take a break lol. I combined your asks and changed the format just a little bit to shorten the post! 

First of all; fuck Jared. I just needed to get that out before I go on. I also want to apologize ahead of time because this is going to get long. I’m actually going to put this under a read more because it’s gonna get wild.

What he said about Angelina Jolie is disgusting. AKF amirite? Even if she wasn’t struggling with anorexia (I don’t know enough about her to know if that is true or if it was just something being said about her) he has NO RIGHT to be commenting on other people’s bodies. In the case that she did have anorexia, fuck him for cherry picking who he thinks should be exempt from his bullshit comments when it comes to mental health. 

That statement from the restaurant Jared doxxed was heartbreaking. Obviously we don’t know what happened that night, but there is NO EXCUSE to dox someone because you’re throwing a fit and didn’t get the treatment you feel so entitled to. This woman tried to meet with Jared and clear things up and he still went on with blasting her on social media and causing her emotional distress and to take her accounts down because of the harassment he incited. He doesn’t see service workers as people, he sees them as servants and if they dare to put a toe out of line, it’s open season on them. We don’t know the situations, but I think it’s safe to assume Jared isn’t the most reasonable person to deal with I mean we’ve seen his tantrums and his behaviors. 

But as we can see, Jared can dish it out just fine but he can’t take it. That brings me to the Twitter essays. 

Poor wittle Jared had some bad service. Poor Jared wasn’t waited on hand and foot. Poor Jared was forced to go to Twitter and blast someone to his rabid stans because he was obviously incapable of talking to management instead. Poor Jared was shown some karma and got given some treatment that he’s dished out to plenty of people. Poor Jared had his trip ruined and then had his whole night ruined by someone calling him out on his bullshit behavior. Woe is he! 

Literally no one told him he couldn’t be upset and shouldn’t be shown the same courtesy as other customers. But he has ZERO right to put people in danger by blasting them to his stans that he is very aware, will cause problems on his behalf. He’s really quick to change his tune on mental health though! Angelina Jolie is subject to ridicule, and PSH? Cowardly! But poor Jared is fighting for his right to have anxiety and depression when it’s convenient for him! Fuck him for using that as a crutch against rightful criticism. He’s making stigma worse.

Don’t censor poor Jared! He should be able to dox people all he wants because he’s just a human! Poor Jared is entitled to be a total shit bag and put people at risk when he’s mad! 

He is really good at treating people like shit just to turn around and attack people for calling him out or making jokes. It’s okay when he makes tasteless, disgusting jokes, but when someone makes a harmless joke? Poison! And once again, using his mental illness as an excuse! What an advocate! 

He’s such a raging hypocrite and reading all of this made me pissed off. There are people who defend his behavior even while watching him flip-flop back and forth, contradict himself, further harmful stigmas about mental health, and act like a jackass to people. 

So again, fuck Jared. 

[for-the-chainsaw-boy]

i was promised a funni…

LEGOLAND

THE ENTERTAINERS PENNY LAMB: A sixteen-year-old, sister of Ezra. EZRA LAMB: A thirteen-year-old, brother of Penny.

PLAYING STYLE Physical. Very physical. But truthful. The acting should be as frenetic and as over-the-top as possible, but with real acting intentions and subtlety. A clock with a soul.

MUSIC The whole play should be underscored, but not with current pop. Instead, past tunesmiths like Elvis, Hank Williams, Berlioz and Beethoven. Ambient music is fine occasionally as background. The soundscape sets the rhythm of their game.

SOUND Q #1 -- Last song preshow. Fade out sound as the house lights come down. Two spotlights, one on PENNY LAMB, the other on her brother EZRA. PENNY is a young woman wearing French braids and a private school uniform; she has a bright smile. Holding a piece of paper, she stands over a music box that plays a sweet, monotonous melody. EZRA, an intense thirteen-year-old, sits cross-legged in a chair, with a neutral expression on his face. He, too, wears a school uniform, plus a black cape, a single white dress glove and Chinese slippers. He has a fixed gaze on one audience member of his choosing, a fixed gaze he maintains practically throughout the proceedings. PENNY: Hello. My name is Penny Lamb, and I am an aspiring animal conservationist.

PENNY slams the music box. There is a flash. The stage exposes a large garbage can full of toys and a makeshift puppet theatre upstage centre made of household miscellanea: flashlight as footlight, a red curtain, etc. At the back of the wall there is a screen for various slides. EZRA should run the show as much as possible. Whatever the layout, it should look like it is designed by two industrious children… including the slides; imagine two children, with a solid year to design a show. PENNY speaks at an incredible speed, being an immensely nervous and self-conscious teenager. She literally trips over her words -- a volcano of passion and eloquence. PENNY: Hello again… (stage left) Welcome. (stage right) Welcome. (centre stage) Welcome… Welcome to my presentation. (reading from her card) This is where I tell you, after two hundred hours of community service, how never to turn out like me. It is my hope that after my hours of community service (looking up) that have culminated in this presentation, (reading) you will all go out and… and well… (looking up) lead fuller, lawfuller lives! (reading) I would like to thank Miss Peachery -- (looking up) my social worker -- (reading) for giving me the ultimatum of doing this presentation… (looking up) or, like, pick up other people’s trash for an entire year on some crummy expressway… (reading of a cure card, at a machine-gun pace) So first off I want to tell people never to shoplift, jaywalk, beat up kids, swear, knock on people’s doors and run away, be mean to overweight people, talk back to your parents. Stop, drop and roll. Never let your uncle touch you in places you feel uncomfortable with -- (looking up) even if it’s, like, your elbow. (looking down) Don’t do drugs -- unless they are prescribed by a licensed practitioner of the psychiatric profession… and stay away from sex, but if you ever get into super sexy stuff… use a condom… Oh… and it’s entirely natural to mastubate… (looking up) but never in a public place. She stops reading. Whew. Well that should cover a lot of ground, considering that’s like every high school play or movie I’ve ever seen in, like… ten seconds flat. And, I didn’t do any of the above mentioned stuff. I’ve taken all of those lessons to heart, and obeyed them. Beat. (fast) However, I did sell and traffic drugs in two countries, and horribly maim this man. This man I truly loved. Beat. Look, I was fifteen then. I was all screwed up… I’m sixteen now.

Beat. I would also like to thank Ezra… for doing all the art direction and putting all the pizazz into this whole stupid thing. Oh, this is my brother Ezra Lamb. Together… we are the Lambs. Say hi-a, Ezra Lamb. PENNY assumes a vaudeville punchline pose. EZRA casually takes of his white glove and throws it on the ground. He walks daintily next to PENNY, taking his time, leading with his feet, still focused on his one audience member. He talks like a nutcracker, breaking up his words. He has an other-worldly voice, and is practically expressionless throughout the proceedings. EZRA: Hi-a, Ezra Lam…… “bu.” EZRA assumes the Vaudeville pose, but with a performance art edge. PENNY: (giggling) That’s a joke… We make those. You can laugh… or not. Beat. EZRA: (with intensity) Hi-a, Ezra Lam… (extremely loud) “BU”! Beat. PENNY: Um, he has ADHD, which means -- EZRA: Attention Deficit Hy-per Act-ive Dis-or-der. PENNY: Which means -- EZRA: Five milligrams of Ritalin, five milligrams of Dex-ahhhh-drine. PENNY: And -- EZRA: I have strong apprehension to the scientific claims of my dis-or-der. PENNY: He’s pretty smart though -- for a thirteen-year-old basket case. Are you going to talk like that through the whole presentation? EZRA: Yes. PENNY: In real life he doesn’t talk like that. EZRA: In real life I don’t exist. Beat.

PENNY: Yes, he does. EZRA: No, I don’t. PENNY: Yes, he does. EZRA: No, I don’t. PENNY: Yes. EZRA: No. PENNY: Yes. EZRA: No. PENNY: Yes. EZRA: No. PENNY: No. EZRA: Yes. PENNY: Ha! EZRA: (defeated) I exist. PENNY: Why don’t you tell us something about yourself, Ezra? SOUND Q #2 -- “Gnossienne.” EZRA exposes a sad-looking doll. He acts out the motions of the little man in the puppet theatre. Eric Satie’s “Gnossienne #1” plays. EZRA: Well… I did read in the paper a while ago… Jeffrey Dahmer, you know that serial killer that killed and ate all those people? Well, he pulled double night shifts in a factory making chocolate Santa Clauses. Did it for years. So I imagine the austere fluorescent lighting, the endless chocolate Santas coming down the conveyor belt, the gloomy faces punching in the clock… The desperate silence of a cog in a forever festive machine… going to work at sunset, to bed at sunrise… This goes on for years… Until finally he falls on his knees going… He makes the puppet fall on his knees.

(in a southern accent, dramatically) I’m going to break. I’m simply gonna’ break. PENNY: Uhh… Okay. So I can explain… we were both home schooled. EZRA: I mean it would drive you -- PENNY: (gritting) Okay, that’s enough about Jeffrey Dahmer! Let me whisk you away to happier times. Play some whisking-away music, Ezra. SOUND Q #3 -- Whisking-away EZRA plays whisking-away music on his ghetto-blaster. SLIDE #1 -- Uranium City. PENNY: Welcome to Uranium City, Saskatchewan! Oh, the sun is out today, I see. We both grew up on the Elysium Community Farm, just outside of Uranium City, which means -- EZRA: A lot of people walking around naked, quoting eastern philosophy, and never shaving their pubes. PENNY: Right, and all the kids there were named Rainbow, Sunshine, Trotsky. Ezra even had a best friend named Noam Chomsky… SkyTrain. We lived on Elysium with our mom Marie-Jose Blanche -- and our dad -- Rudolf. They met at some college waaaaaaaaaaay back in the nineties. He took her in his arms and danced her ass off to “Hungry Eyes,” and they also found that they both thought modern civilization was -- EZRA: A sausage factory, crushing individuals’self-worth, turning them into soulless, neurotic robots. PENNY: Toads. And that got them both real hot! So that very same night, I was conceived. Three years later, Ezra. Lookit, where we grew up? Elysium Community Farm? Everybody was totally into all that happy hippy stuff. You know, sitars, sunshine, philosophy, love, Humanism, ganja weed. We talked and laughed, learned lots… And sometimes at night Ezra would put on super cool puppet shows about German Nihilism. EZRA: The nail that sticks out gets hammered down! EZRA gestures, punching his hands together. PENNY: It went on like this for years, this all-enlightened, home-made living; there was only one drawback… Now, we didn’t want to hurt the good people at Elysium, but there was this crummy rule that kids couldn’t go to Legoland until they were sixteen -- oh, by the way, that’s what they called everything here outside Elysium -- “Legoland.” (She winks)

Fade out sound. PENNY: Okay so lookit! When I got to thirteen… I was getting kind of itchy, you know? To see a world that didn’t consist only of naked, smiling, enlightened hippies… And Ezra… Well, Ezra was getting kind of weird… playing with his little monkey in his room all day. EZRA removes a monkey hand puppet wearing a little bowler. PENNY: Oh, that’s his little monkey, Afenschwanz. EZRA: Afenschwanz in German means monkey dingle. PENNY: Ezra has always been all mad into the Germans. I mean, that Nietzsche guy had a saying for everything! EZRA: The last Christian died on the cross. PENNY: A joke is an epitaph on emotion. EZRA: Without music, the world would be a mistake. PENNY: Ah, that’s my absolute favorite! Without music, the world would be a mistake. Beat. PENNY: Awesome! Nietzsche's so dreamy. So, I got the hankering to go to Legoland… more specifically, Uranium City. I knew kind of what to expect, because I read a book called Anne of Green Gables. I mean, sure the whole town would be weirded out by our precocious mannerisms at first. But after a while we’d all be embraced by these nice people… Banker Mudge… Farmer Pete… Baker Jones. Oh, and little Gilbert, my high school sweetheart who -- EZRA: When we got to Wal-Mart, it wasn’t anything like that… EZRA & PENNY: Wal-Mart! SOUND Q #4 -- Wal-Mart. PENNY: … A big old slab of bright blue and concrete… plastered with yellow smiley faces. Cars spilling in and out. EZRA: An endless line of people coming and going. PENNY: Looking down at their feet, holding their bags. The only ones smiling are the people that work there.

EZRA & PENNY: Crazy jack-o’-lantern smiles! PENNY: Thousands of magazines of famous people in tons of make-up, telling you that without all their make-up, they’d look just like you. EZRA: And without all their fame… EZRA & PENNY: They’d act just like you! Fade out sound. PENNY: Anyway… Wal-Mart was super awesome… But… everyone was all busy… Now, we tried our darndest to strike up friendly chats with people in Wal-Mart… But it was strange; if you talked to people they acted like you were touching your dingle in front of them. We snuck out several times, but no matter what we did, no one talked to us! So that’s when we came up with this… Jeez, it was such a stupid idea.. I was thirteen then… So we… EZRA falls down on the ground and starts convulsing. PENNY: (mechanically) Oh my God! That little boy is having a seizure. We have to get him on his stomach so he doesn’t swallow his tongue! EZRA jiggles around. PENNY shakes him several times. He revives. EZRA: (coached) Thank you, I would have been a goner if it weren’t for the collective need I sensed in all of you for my survival. PENNY: So, Ezra started faking seizures in the Wal-Mart, and I’d pretend to revive him. And now -- I know, I know, I know! … it is not socially acceptable to simulate human catastrophe in order to strike up a conversation. But I have to say, when people think you’re on the brink of death… Well… they can be really super awesome! The whole crowd of people would break out into applause, old ladies’ mascara would run from tears of joy, families would cry out, “Oh, thank God he’s all right! Oh, thank God that little boy is all right!” You see, every time Ezra had one of his spaz attacks, there was real love in the Wal-Mart… It wasn’t just a place to get cheap junk anymore… No! It was a community. So, we did it a couple of times -- EZRA: Thirty-six times. PENNY: Thirty-six times… and after a while, the manager got wise… and, well, he called the police… and they drove us home. And that’s when… Well, that’s when… all that trouble happened… SOUND Q #5 -- Hippy

Beat. EZRA is in the puppet theatre acting out the drug bust with toys. PENNY: As it turned out… Elysium was the largest fricking organic pot farm in the Prairies! … The constable got on his CB… before you knew it, all of Elysium looked like a cheesy action film. All the parents were rounded up in paddy wagons… The next day we all made national news. All these pictures of us Elysian kids looking all doe-eyed… And I know it’s bad to feel bad for people who’ve violated the sacred sanctity of like… Never. Getting. High… but the parents on Elysium, our parents, my parents… they loved us and taught us kids a lot of cool stuff like, how to make… Fade out sound over fifteen seconds. EZRA: Non-toxic forms of penicillin. PENNY: The fundamentals of chemistry, agriculture, astronomy -- and every Sunday the kids would have the humanistic talent show -- where everyone came in first! We were really kind of… amazingly happy. Beat. PENNY: Anyway, after my folks got fifteen for cultivation and trafficking of narcotics… we were sent to a boarding school… First day. Teacher pulls me up in front of the class. SOUND Q #6 -- School bell. Sound plays out. Beat. PENNY: The instant I see the boys staring at me like gaping fish with their heads cut off… and the girls looking at me with those Queen of England smiles… Oh, little Penny wasn’t in Kansas anymore… Uh-uh… I was sent to the charred black bowels of everlasting Hell! Beat. PENNY: (brightly) But all the teachers liked to call it -- EZRA & PENNY: Saint Cassian Catholic School! SOUND Q #7 -- Thunder and religious music. EZRA: The actual Saint Cassian was lynched by his students, pinned down and brutally stabbed in the throat with their styli.

PENNY & EZRA: How perfect! PENNY: Saint Cassian, a blend of everything insane in both science and religion. EZRA: Jesus without love. PENNY: Science with no reason. And I was given the dubious distinction of being branded the high school -- EZRA & PENNY: LESBIAN! Sound fades out. PENNY: Everything I did was wrong. My hair, how I talked, what I loved, liked, listened to! Boys writing “Dyke” on my locker with indelible Jiffy-marker. Being pushed down stairs, pushed up stairs, pushed to the side of stairs, soon avoiding stairs all together -- which made it very difficult, because my locker and most of my classes were on the second floor! Girls going up to me all, like -- EZRA pops up in the puppet theatre with three Barbies, all speaking in EZRA’s voice; he attempts very little characterization, still giving his flat delivery. EZRA: (Barbies) Penny, me and the girls were wondering, are you, like, some kind of lesbian? PENNY: I don’t… How many kinds are there? … What… is a lesbian like? EZRA: (Barbies) Like you! Tee-hee, tee-hee. EZRA and the Barbies giggle. PENNY: Ohh, their laughter! Like a pack of bleached-blond, screeching banshees! And in class, in class, it was actually worse! I mean, I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to actually know anything in school! EZRA: (as the teacher) So, class, in Lord of the Flies, what is William Golding trying to express? PENNY, in a chair, puts her hand up excitedly. PENNY: Uh… The Lord of the Flies. So these children are on an island without parents, right? And they revert to a Darwinian state, where savage conformity rules, the intelligent, the spiritual, the moral. Picked off… one by one! Crushed under rocks! Stuck like pigs! EZRA: (as the teacher) Penny, we’re Catholics, we don’t believe in Darwin! (Barbies) Ha, ha, ha, not only is Penny a lesbian, she’s a feminist lesbian! PENNY: Well, who’s ever heard of a misogynist lesbian.

EZRA: (as the teacher) Penny, stop using big words. PENNY: Big words? This is an English class! Wh-wh-what big words? EZRA: (as the teacher) Words, like “conformity” and “intelligence.” (Barbies) All we want to do is, like -- read? … books? PENNY: (powerfully) Read?! The only things you beepin’ hussies like to read are your pregnancy tests! EZRA: (as the teacher) Penny! Get out of my classroom! Take your wicked keister down to (EZRA’s voice) Dr. Prattle’s office! PENNY: Dr. Prattle, the Catholic psychiatrist! EZRA & PENNY: Jesus, Freud and pills. EZRA: Now, there’s a bitter cocktail! PENNY: I got to Dr. Prattle’s office -- wham, bam, thank you ma’am. I was now the proud owner of a brand new -- EZRA & PENNY: Neurological disorder! Fade out sound. PENNY: Bipolar! Manic depressive… Survey says! SLIDE #2 -- Pill. EZRA: Five milligrams of Paxil two times a day! PENNY: And Ezra was soon sent to the good doctor, too. EZRA: It was after my science presentation. SOUND Q #8 -- Masterpiece Theater. SLIDE #3 -- Syphilis. Masterpiece Theater theme plays. A slide comes up reading, “The Syphilis Hall of Fame,” with pictures of several philosophers.

EZRA: The Syphilis Hall of Fame. Nietzsche, Shakespeare, Voltaire… Question: What made these the great thinkers they are today? … Answer: syphilis. Fade out sound. PENNY: That’s when Ezra was diagnosed with severe -- EZRA: ADHD. Five milligrams of Ritalin, five milligrams of Dexedrine. PENNY: Anyway, there we were -- doped up to the gills -- in Hell. Well, I was. Ezra was kind of -- EZRA: (proudly) Sold my meds to teenagers and college kids. Ten bucks a throw. PENNY: Kids on the street called him “lil’ E-Z,” as it -- EZRA: One “Lamb,” and you can take it EEEE-ZEE. For two E-Z payments of five dollars you get high as a kite, sharp as a tack, get wiggedy wiggedy wack, or your money back. PENNY: He had a massive eighteen-year-old football player named Todd on salary, EZRA: He was always coming up short, skimming the product. (blurts with passion, yet without tension in his voice) Fucking junkies! PENNY: EZRA GINSBERG MARTIN LUTHER WOODY GUTHRIE LAMB! … This is a theatre… you can’t say the F-word unless you’re pretending to be poor! Anyway, lil’ E-Z was making a go at his whole drug syndicate thingy… And I was kind of… well… Beat. PENNY: Like, sleeping in my room all day… tearing my hair and throwing up, kind of suicidal and depressed and everything… So, one day a bunch of girls were setting fire to my school bag -- second time that week -- and I wasn’t even crying anymore… because, you get to a point… when you’re waaaay beyond crying. Beat. PENNY: “Not waving but drowning.” Stevie Smith. “This is my life… Whoomp (There It Is).” Tag Team. Beat. PENNY: But then! … Tammy Edwards sat down next to me and, like… took Christian pity. EZRA: Tinky winky tinky winky tinky winky tink.

SOUND Q #9 -- Harp. PENNY: … Tammy was the only one in that crummy crack house Catholic school, I think, who actually believed in Jesus. So, she was all, like… into shaking hands with lepers -- or lesbians, as the case may be. EZRA enters in a tutu, spinning around fairy godmother-like. EZRA: (as Tammy) Look… the other kids make fun of you because you don’t wear, see or listen to anything cool. PENNY: … But… how do I become cool? EZRA: Only the Lord knoweth what is truly cool… Take this CD. If you listen to this -- all is forgiven. EZRA hands her a CD. Fade out sound. PENNY: I ran to my room. I put the CD in my player. Then… Ohhh, then… SOUND Q #10 -- Classical. She starts to hyperventilate, the crescendo of Handel’s “Hallelujah” chorus plays. PENNY: Ohhh, my ears were lavished with a rhapsody of pure bliss. Musical ecstasy, I believe akin to the ascent of one’s soul rising towards the heavenly spheres! I was bathed in the melody of God and all His angels and cherubs. For at that instant I experienced rapture, only felt before by the likes of naked hermits in the desert. For it was that golden day I first heard… the boy band… Fade out sound. EZRA & PENNY: Seven Up! SOUND Q #11 -- Xanadu. SLIDE #4 -- Seven Up. Slide comes up of a boy band named Seven Up… They are next to a gas station, wearing singlets and jeans, looking all sexy and bad-ass. PENNY: Seven Up was founded in Orlando, Florida, after an international American talent search. The goal was to put five of the most talented men in a sound studio, with various composers, a choreographer, a designer --

EZRA: A chartered accountant. PENNY: And see what happened. Well, I’ll tell you what happened, people! … Seven Up! Fade out sound. PENNY: Seven Up consists of five members. There is Johnny Moon (trembles)… and four other guys: Sammy Thorndike, the preppy; Billy Benton, the jock; Tony Capelli, the bad boy; and Juan Carlito Ramirez… the… they only ever described him as the Spanish guy. Now, a lot of kids make fun of the fact that Seven Up only has five members… when the name Seven Up would lead one to assume they had -- I dunno -- seven members? EZRA: There are seven deadly sins: sloth, gluttony, envy, lechery, avarice, pride and wrath -- they encapsulate them all nicely. PENNY: And last, but definitely not least… Drum roll, Ez’! EZRA sputters his lips. SLIDE #5 -- Johnny on the Moon. SOUND Q #12 -- “Flower Duet.” Slide of Johnny Moon shoots up. The choral part of Delibes’s “Flower Duet” plays. PENNY: Ohhhhhh, Johhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnny Moon! Beat. PENNY stares at the picture for a long time, suddenly breaking into a dance. Drawn to the slide, she embraces it, to EZRA’s increased agitation. EZRA: (barking) RUFF RUFF! Fade out sound. PENNY: Everyone loves them, everyone, even Ezra, loves them! EZRA: Henry Ford created the assembly line, creating mass production, creating mass-marketed messiahs on crosses of Velcro… Seven Up: manufactured, soulless, hip-gyrating robots… hence, the true troubadours of globalization! Beat. PENNY: You see, Ezra loves them! So there I was in my room, listening to their debut track, “Sincerely Yours”… “For if my life is a love letter, that letter is yours, the end being signed… ‘Sincerely Yours.’”…

Okay, the first time I heard that song? … My heart’s getting all giddy and floody bloody right now… (to herself) Chill, Penny. Chill. (to the audience) I wish I could just sing you the song, but I can’t on account of my shrink… and the restraining order… I mean, how do you explain music. (EZRA produces a ukulele, hands it to PENNY.) Well, okay, lookit I did write this song… a song I composed after I heard “Sincerely Yours”… I play an instrument, this is my axe Shaneekwa. Okay, so here goes… (She plays the ukulele.) (singing) Every twenty-four hours or so, The earth it spins around, One part day, one part night, Depending where you’re standing on the ground. And in between the turning, Babies walking, talking, lesson learning, there might come one day when you resolve, (talking) What’s the point, we all die, and all love dissolves But then I hear you singing, (singing) No matter where you roam, You are not alone, All through history, Walking hand in hand in misery (talking) Dear Johnny, we haven’t met before, but I feel we’ve met a hundred times in the republic of my dreams. I don’t want to freak you out of anything, but before your music… I thought I was destined to die alone… you know, to be one of those people that you read about in the papers that people only realize are dead because their bodies start to stink. But you restored my faith through your genius… I don’t just hear the most kick-ass awesome pop music ever… in your music, I can see history -- like, eternity -- and my place in it. For in your voice, I understand I am a note, in a bar, in a movement, of a song, of a symphony of music! A symphony that builds to an orgasmic, rapturous crescendo. A state of bliss so overbearing it literally hurts! Building, building, BUILDING, BUILDING, BUILDING, BUUUUUUUUUILDIIIIIIIIIING! … (singing) No matter where you roam, You are not alone, All throughout history, Walking hand in hand in misery And that’s the closest I can explain how I felt when I heard Johnny Moon sing “Sincerely Yours” for the first time. (unenthusiastic as hell) Oh… and Tony Capellu raps a little on it… Something like, “Champagne in the brain in Spain,” which was good… ish. ANYWAY, the band proved crazy prolific, producing over three short years a staggering hundred and sixty-eight albums, and that’s not even including their holiday albums -- Christmas, Easter, President’s Day -- EZRA: Ramadan.

PENNY: You couldn’t even swing a cat without hitting a Seven Up song. Radio, TV, internet chat rooms, key chains, T-shirts. I had finally tapped into something everyone liked. I was finally cool -- for, like, two seconds! EZRA: (pulling out the Barbies in the puppet theatre) Seven Up is so five minutes ago! All their songs sound like they were written by a retarded child on a Tilt-A-Whirl… the only ones who listen to them are, like, zit-faced Twinkies and -- PENNY: Lesbians, you were going to say. Lesbians, right? (The Barbies cackle.) Tee-hee, tee-hee. PENNY: The critical mass had turned on Seven Up, like a pack of Pharisees. SOUND Q #13 -- Tchaikovsky’s “Russian Dance.” PENNY: An angry toothless mob howling for their death! And all who believed in the universal message of “Love” were branded with the mark of Cain! Kids breaking into my room, writing little thought bubbles on my Johnny Moon posters saying, “I like it up the bum-bum” and “I like to suck pee-pee”! Only they didn’t write “pee-pee” or “bum-bum”! Johnny! Poor Johnny. A living walking set-up for an endless series of punchlines. Seven Up stuck together as long as they could -- soon doing only concerts in Eastern Europe. But then… tragedy struck. Billy Benton was swarmed by an angry throng of pre-teens in Moscow for his three-hundred-dollar tennis shoes -- dragged to the centre of Red Square -- and ripped apart like a chicken cutlet… Fade out sound. PENNY: After the funeral, the band broke up. Johnny tried to keep his dignity, but soon found himself… making celebrity testimonials in infomercials, singing songs about Viagra and vacuum cleaner nozzles.. then whoosh, he vanished! I wrote him a few times. EZRA: Three thousand, five hundred and sixty-seven times. PENNY: Right. And one day he sent me a real letter… and actual letter. Ezra! SOUND Q #14 -- Johnny’s letter. EZRA: (as Johnny) Dear Penny, thank you for being my greatest fan, my most loyal fan. In fact, these days, my only fan… Always keep the faith, girl… Sincerely yours, Johnny Moon-moon-moon… Headshot enclosed-closed-closed-closed. Beat.

PENNY pulls out his headshot and kisses it, on the verge of tears. PENNY: But then, then! After a painful year, feeling half-dead, I come across a small little ad in a crummy magazine… “Johnny Moon’s New Solo Album, soon to be released in an HMV near you!” A solo album? … A solo album?! A solo album! I wait two painstaking months! The day before his new release, I stayed up all night -- by the record store -- I wanted to be the first to hear his new magnum opus. Fade out sound. PENNY: I run into the record store, grab the CD and without looking I run home and throw it in my CD player! I throw on the first track… every cilium in my ears is taut with anticipation of Johnny’s unfettered muse breaking forth in all her glory! SOUND Q #15 -- Ezra’s rap. A haunting rap beat plays. EZRA enters with a microphone. He raps rhythmically -- but without any characterization of an actual rapper. EZRA: (toasting) Yo! Yo! This is JK-47, Been dope since 9/11 Yo, I’z gotz something to say that’s real rich, So listen up, bee-yotch. (rapping) So you’re looking at me, ya sucka’ MC? You wanna come at me like you’re fucking Bruce Lee? When you’re this big, bee-yotch, they call ya mistah, And if you don’t believe me, go and ask your sistah, If she’s not home I know another, Here’s a quarter, little bitch, go and call your mother, Yo! I got style, I gotz the grace, I go out with the ladies and I punch ‘em in the face, So rip off your panties, take off your bra, Tonight I’m going to fuck you wit’ my chainsaw. … Fuck you wit’ my chainsaw, fuck you wit’ my chainsaw, fuck you wit’ my chainsaw -- PENNY screams. Cut out sound. PENNY: (screaming) Urrgh! I can’t take it! ENOUGH! STOP! (trembling) Johnny’s Moon was now eclipsed… In his solo effort, sweet, loving Johnny had morphed into… EZRA & PENNY: JK-47! SOUND Q #16 -- JK-47 underbeat.

Sound plays out or fades. SLIDES #6 to #10 -- JK-47 (five slides of JK-47 in various gangsta poses). PENNY: (shaking) JK-47, a frat boy puking up solid black venomous bile, rubbing his dingle like it was his lucky rabbit’s foot. His new album called The 6 B’s! stood for booze, bluntz, the name for a female dog, the bling-bling and… no one knows what the last B stands for. I dunno? Band-Aids? Bosnia?! I listened to all twenty-six unrelenting tracks, with the relish of a Rabbi being force-fed a hotdog. Well it appeared little mister-potty-mouth had come up a long way from singing with a Sea Cow about “Eating your Broccoli.” And, of course, talking about his days growing up in the ‘hood. Yes -- his days in the mean old ‘hood. In -- Portland, OREGON! But I had faith this was a blip, a glitch, no one would actually subject themselves to this musical rape! … It wouldn’t sell, the critics would tear him apart, his fans would turn on him, he would -- EZRA: “Fuck You Wit’ My Chainsaw” became bigger than “Macarena,” “Who Let The Dogs Out” and “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” combined. PENNY: Every critic was heralding JK-47 as the Bob Dylan of our generation. Oh, I can see the comparison -- “The Times They Are A-Changin’” to “F’You Wit’ My Chainsaw.” EZRA: (as a critic, in the puppet booth) Five stars out of five. JK-47 is the real thing. He’s angry, he’s white and he just doesn’t give a fuck! PENNY: EZRA! “FUDGE,” NOT F-MM-UCK! EZRA: I just gangster rapped about copulating with a power tool. PENNY: Fine! And that… song! It was everywhere! Action figures of JK-47 and his ex-girl, Sandy… with a detachable head! OH SANDY came with many novel accessories a gal can’t be without these days -- a toe-tag and a fake suicide note for the cops! T-shirts! Pepsi cans! Even our own priest -- a man who referred to sex as “the Devil’s pilates” -- was now quoting the song liberally! And all the girls at that crummy school were all loving Johnny again! Of course! (to the audience) So all those domeless wonder girls are all, like -- EZRA: (Barbies, in the puppet theatre) Hey, Pen’, you still like JK-47? He’s so dreamy. PENNY: Yeah, you’d have a swell date with him, maybe he’d bring his chainsaw. EZRA: (Barbies) He’s being ironical. Gawd, you’re such a lesbian femi-Nazi. PENNY: Listen to me, Jezebels! You wouldn’t know irony if it crawled up your ass to start a soup kitchen -- to feed its three starving friends -- Wit! Integrity! and Intelligence! (to the audience) I was suspended

for saying the word “ass” -- Now, I lie in my room, glaring at the newspaper. I bought every newspaper I could find with JK-47. I couldn’t look away. It was a train wreck… Beat. PENNY: Anyway, I pick up and read the letter Johnny wrote me -- when he wasn’t the anti-Johnny… Blinded with tears, I can scarcely see, and I drop the letter. The letter lands on a paper from the Orlando Sentinel… announcing a CD-signing in JK-47’s new chain of nightclubs, (murmuring) the Bitch Slap… I look at it… Beat. PENNY: Of course! I love this man, I believe in this man, I have faith in this man! I adore this man! I didn’t want to go to Orlando! I just had to go… So I came up with this plan; Ezra, had some drug money… Johnny’s favorite coffee is a special blend, named after him. It’s called the Moonbeam, and only sold at the Space Needle in Seattle, Washington. EZRA & PENNY: The Moonbeam! A no-fat double latte -- EZRA: A thrilling mixture of Zapatista Dark Roast… PENNY: Castro Morning Blend… EZRA: Che Guevara Decaf, and the secret ingredient not disclosed -- EZRA & PENNY: On pain of death! PENNY: I would get his coffee… bring it to him -- and he would have no choice but to hear me out! I would go all the way to Johnny’s CD-signing at (mumbling) the Bitch Slap in Orlando… We had a week to get there by bus, and eight hundred and seventy dollars! EZRA: Several vials of Ritalin and Dexedrine. PENNY: By sundown we were on our way to the land of liberty -- SOUND Q #17 -- “Star-Spangled Banner.” EZRA: Silicone breasts and fundamentalists. EZRA & PENNY: Otherwise known as the USA! Sound fades out. PENNY: We took the bus. Ez’ wouldn’t fly with an American terror alert at level Ernie.

EZRA: The American Homeland Security Advisory System, for potential travelers to the USA. SLIDE #11 -- Homeland Security EZRA: Levels of terror, in order of safe to deadly, SOUND Q #18 -- Homeland Security Sound plays out. EZRA: Oscar the Grouch, you can slouch; Cookie Monster, do not stir; Bert, be very pert; Ernie, pack a gurney… Lastly, Tickle Me Elmo, take a bow, chump, it’s time to go… PENNY: Ez’ won’t fly at any terror rating higher than a Cookie Monster. Anyway! We board a Greyhound for our cross-country pilgrimage! I am giddy with the anticipation… Wondering… Would I, like Kerouac, find the true spirit of this American land? … We arrive at the -- EZRA & PENNY: United States border crossing! PENNY: Now the nice customs officer -- EZRA: A total jingoistic bastard. PENNY: Well, he wanted to know why two young people were traveling without the accompaniment of a parental unit, he went up to Ezra and said, (in customs voice, holding a He-Man action figure) “Aren’t you two a little bit young to be traveling by yourselves?” EZRA: (to PENNY) I’ll handle this… (to customs of icer) Hello, my good man, excellent work you’re doing keeping the Hun at bay. This is for you. EZRA slips some money in PENNY’s hand. PENNY: I don’t take bribes -- and besides, that’s only a Loonie. Look, son, where are your parents? EZRA: Well, if you really must know… (crying) SOUND Q #19 -- Sentimental music. EZRA: This is very hard to speak about, you understand -- tragic really -- they were taking a cruise to Israel… when… the ship was seized… they were both tortured and killed by agents of the… Al-Qaeda… Penny wants to light a candle in Salt Lake City… You see, we’re devout Mormons. My father always said he’d rather be a pile of ashes in America than alive anywhere else in the world. Daddy…

Sound fades out. SOUND Q #20 -- “American Woman.” Sound fades out. EZRA & PENNY: Seattle, Washington. The Evergreen State. PENNY: Thirty-one endangered species, including the Grizzly Bear. SLIDE #12 -- Homeland Security EZRA: Terror alert has sunk to a balmy Cookie Monster. PENNY: We get off the bus, and I run to the Space Needle; with money in hand, I ask for a pound of the Moonbeam. It cost a bit. EZRA: A hundred and twenty dollars. PENNY: But well worth it for its rich aromatic blend of famous Latin American revolutionaries. I wondered what the secret ingredient is. Well, after the coffee… well, we kind of already spent our money, so we started -- EZRA: Hustling my medication for dead presidents. PENNY: We just went up to people, struck up conversations, and Ezra’s concentration pills sold like hotcakes… By the end of the day we had enough money for two bus tickets and a meal at McDonald’s! EZRA & PENNY: Ohhhh, McDonald’s! PENNY: You see, we kids at Elysium never, I mean ever, got to go to the “McDonald’s,” that was like a cardinal sin. Eating at McDonald’s was like -- EZRA: Drinking your grandfather’s semen. PENNY: Ugh, Ez’… Okay, gross. Gross! SLIDE #13 -- McDonald’s. A slide comes up of PENNY and EZRA standing outside McDonald’s. PENNY: So we actually got to go to the Golden Arches for the first time! Anyway, it was super awesome. The music! The sights! The sounds! We hadn’t even had anything like a Pepsi before. Now, I’m a pescetarian -- which means I only eat fish; even though I feel bad for them, I can’t relate to them at all. So

I had the Filet-O-Fish and Ezra got the Chicken McNuggets Happy Meal. We never had Happy Meals before; they’re super awesome! EZRA: They made me… happy. PENNY: They came with free toys! Free cross-promotional toys! EZRA: I got Action Man on a snowmobile. PENNY: I got Rapping Rock ‘n’ Roll Barbie. Seattle rules! We waved goodbye to the Space Needle and all the good people we dealt concentration pills to and boarded the Greyhound. Dance transition. SOUND Q #21 -- LA. Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: Los Angeles, California! The Golden State! PENNY: One hundred and eleven endangered species, including the Kangaroo Rat. SLIDE #14 - Homeland Security. EZRA: Terror alert miraculously drops to lovely Oscar the Grouch! PENNY: A whopping one hundred milligrams of Ritalin and Dexedrine. EZRA & PENNY: We go to McDonald’s for Happy Meals. SLIDE #15 -- McDonald’s. PENNY: I get Hollywood Hair Barbie. EZRA: I get a Fry Guy in a fire truck. It amused me. He laughs for the first time in the entire play, a stifled unnatural laugh. PENNY: We say goodbye to all the famous people in LA and board the Greyhound. Dance transition. SOUND Q #22 -- Las Vegas.

Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: Las Vegas, Nevada! The Silver State! PENNY: There are twenty-six endangered species, including the Virgin River Chub. SLIDE #16 -- Homeland Security. EZRA & PENNY: Two hundred milligrams of Ritalin and Dexedrine. PENNY: We go to McDonald’s. Get Happy Meals. SLIDE #17 -- McDonald’s. PENNY: I get Babe the Pig. I ask if I can get a toy that isn’t actually on the menu. EZRA: I get a condom. SOUND Q #23 -- Utah. Dance transition. Restore. Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: Salt Lake City, Utah. PENNY: Mormon central. EZRA & PENNY: (danger trill) Dun-dun-daaaaaa! Ten-second pause, as the kids freeze in pose. PENNY: Mormons are creepy. Twenty-one endangered species, including the Utah Valvata Snail. SLIDE #18 -- Homeland Security. EZRA: Due to a scandal in Washington, terror alert rises to a freezing Bert. PENNY: No concentration pills are sold. SLIDE #19 -- McDonald’s. EZRA & PENNY: We both get Mormon pamphlets in our Happy Meals.

EZRA: Making me extremely un-happy. In fact, downright fuck -- SOUND Q #24 -- Texas. Dance transition. Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: San Antonio, Texas! The Lone Star State! PENNY: Twenty-eight endangered species, including the Helotes Mold Beetle. SLIDE #20 -- Homeland Security. EZRA: The Terror has begun. TICKLE ME ELMO’S REIGN OF NATIONAL TERROR HAS NOW BEGUN! EZRA & PENNY: Ten milligrams of Ritalin. PENNY: We go to McDonald’s. Get Happy Meals. I get Cool Country Barbie. EZRA: I got a junior membership to the NRA. SOUND Q #25 -- Alabama. Sound plays out. EZRA & PENNY: Montgomery, Alabama! Yellowhammer State! PENNY: There are eighty-eight endangered species, including the Cumberland Monkeyface. SLIDE #21 -- Homeland Security. EZRA: Ugh! To be in Alabama while Elmo’s red furry paw has the country by the nuts. PENNY: I get a crushed beer can. EZRA: I get a Jim Crow Let’s Go A-lynchin’ Kit. SOUND Q #26 -- Florida. Dance transition. Sound plays out.

EZRA & PENNY: Orlando, Florida! The Sunshine State! AT LAST! ANNNNNNND JAZZ HANDS! They do jazz hands. PENNY: There are fifty-six endangered species, including the Choctawhatchee Beach Mouse. EZRA: And American-style democracy. PENNY: Well, we were pretty stinky, having been on the bus for seven days. I wanted to get to a Howard Johnson for a bath, a nap and some other food. Any food other than McDonald’s. EZRA: I was developing the first stages of scurvy. PENNY: When we get to the room I take a shower. I plop into the bed, but I can’t sleep! So I get my Sincerely Yours CD… and then we walk down to the local Starbucks and pay them twenty dollars to make the Moonbeam. We leave with a steaming batch of the brew in our ultra-seal Thermos -- that way it will remain hot for up to twelve hours. EZRA: Steaming, boiling, piping-hot Moonbeam. Remember that. PENNY: We arrive in line at the (murmuring) Bitch Slap. There is a line-up like -- EZRA: A sparkly line of white suburban boys in baseball caps and squishy shoes. PENNY: Oh BOY! All these guys are going to be in for a big surprise after I get to him. I wait for three hours in line, with the patience of a sphinx. EZRA pulls out a baby doll in a bonnet, who represents the bouncer. EZRA: (in home-boy, with puppet) Yo! You got any ID? PENNY: ID? EZRA: (home-boy baby) You need ta’ be twenty-one to get into the Bitch Slap. PENNY: But… I’ve come… all the way from Uranium City, Saskatchewan. EZRA: (baby) Don’t madder to me. No ID, no entry. Ged’ away from the door, bitch! (to PENNY) Let me handle this. EZRA falls down on the ground and has a seizure.

PENNY: (mechanically) Oh my God! That little boy is having a seizure! We must get him on his stomach before he swallows his tongue… (to the audience) The bouncer goes to Ezra. I sneak into the (murmuring) Bitch Slap. SOUND Q #27 -- Club beat. EZRA gets up and begins arranging his human size puppet in a chair. The puppet resembles JK-47, all macked out with a tennis hat cocked to one side and gold chains. The puppet should be revolting-looking, like a corpse with decaying flesh. On its shoulder EZRA places his monkey puppet, who acts as D-Dawg. PENNY: Strobe lights are flashing. It’s covered with a throng of pimple-faced scowling white kids in parkas, looking down at their feet, grabbing their dingles through their oversized jeans. I’ve never been to a bathhouse before, but this certainly feels like one. There is a short line leading to a solid white desk. I can hear Johnny’s voice, his real, live flesh-and-blood voice! She turns. PENNY: I see him! … Look, girls, he’s even dreamier in person! He’s sitting in his chair scowling as he signs CDs, without looking up. I recognize his sidekick from his new album, D-Dawg, As I walk up to him, my legs buckle. I feel as if I could tell him everything and nothing at the same time. Yet the moment I see his blue eyes look into mine, I know this is going to go just swell. PENNY proudly walks up to JK-47 holding her Thermos. She is nervous and smiling. She slides her Sincerely Yours CD onto his desk. She plays the rest of the scene to the audience, as though she is facing JK-47. PENNY: (really fast) Hello, I’m Penny Lamb, your greatest, greatest fan. Oh God! I feel like I have so much to say to you, I could explode… Would you believe I’ve come all the way from Uranium City, Saskatchewan to see you -- that’s in Canada -- and, no, I don’t have a dogsled -- bad joke -- I’m so nervous -- I was homeschooled -- I mean until they sent me to this school where everyone called me a lesbian. Anyway, along the way I picked up something very special. Mr. Johnny Moon, in this airtight Thermos is your… Moonbeam. Taa-daa! Yes, your favorite drink, brought alllll the way here to you, for you, by me. With the secret ingredient that cannot be revealed on pain of death. A gift from me… to you. For the gift you gave me. For because of you, I know something about true love. Look, I don’t believe in good and evil -- I think believing you are, like, an evil, rotten little dude in a black hat who thinks he’s so darn good that he can, I dunno, blow people up? -- But I do believe in love and hate. There are two roads to go down, Johnny… There is the Lover Lane, or the Super Hate Highway. I fear -- because the world’s been so heartless to you -- you’ve gone down the latter. Beat. PENNY smiles at the puppet. The puppet begins shaking its head.

EZRA: (manipulating JK-47) Get this bee-yotch out’ here ‘for I smack this crazy-ass ho. PENNY: Wh-wha… What?! EZRA: (JK-47) Yo’z heard me, bee-yotch, I got no time for no shiznit from no corny-ass teeny boppahs. I’m JK-47! (referring to a character of stage) T-Bone! Get this ho out of hee-rah. (EZRA manipulates the monkey puppet as D-Dawg, who has a high voice.) Yah, he don’t got time for you, he’s JK-47. T-Bone, T-Bone! PENNY: B-b-b-but I brought you a coffee all the way from the Space Needle. EZRA: Yo, Skeezah, I gotz a closet full of that shyyit. I’m JK-47! T-Bone! (monkey puppet) He’s JK-47! T-Bone! T-BONE! T-BONE! PENNY: Yes, but… it… doesn’t have the secret ingredient… It couldn’t! They’d kill whoever leaked it. EZRA: (JK-47) Bitch, it’s cinnamon! Even D-Dawg know that, and he’s a crackhead. Boo-ya! I’m JK-47! T-BONE! PENNY: Cinnamon… I-I-I-I’ve traveled all that way… for cinnamon. EZRA: (monkey puppet) It’s cimamin, even I know that, and I’m a crackhead. It’s cimamin. T-BONE! T-BONE! Beat. PENNY begins to cry. EZRA: (JK-47) What? You g’wan cry… little skank. Smack you up, beee-yotch, ‘cause I’m -- PENNY: JK-47! YES! I BELIEVE THAT’S BEEN (containing) established. She pulls out her letter. PENNY: Just -- here, I haven’t read you my letter yet. It’s really quick. (reading) Dear Johnny, we haven’t met before, but I feel we’ve met a hundred times in the republic of my -- EZRA: (monkey puppet) T-Bone! T-Bone! PENNY: (to the audience) T-BONE finally enters, all 350 pounds of him! I can hear his footfalls over the music, he’s like an albino King Kong! All the suburban boys form a circle around me, swearing, grabbing

their dingles, spitting! I have to read this letter! (to JK-47) Dear Johnny, we haven’t met before, but I feel

EZRA: (JK-47) I’m JK-47! T-BONE! (monkey puppet) He’s JK-47! T-BONE! T-BONE!

PENNY: Dear Johnny, we haven’t met -- (to the audience) T-BONE grabs me. Ezra leaps on T-BONE, knocking him to the ground. Ezra disappears in the folds of massive flesh, like a ball-bearing dropped in a vat of vanilla pudding! (to JK-47) Dear Johnny, we haven’t met before but -- PENNY: (reading) Hello, my NAME is PENNY LAMB and -- EZRA: (JK-47) What are you, anyway, bee-yotch? (monkey puppet) T-Bone! T-Bone! PENNY: Hello, my name is Penny Lamb, we haven’t met before -- EZRA: I know’z what you be, ho! PENNY: Hell -- EZRA: (JK-47) You be one of them… lesbians. You be one of them -- PENNY: Right. Hello, my name -- EZRA: (JK-47) Femamist lesbian. PENNY: Hello, my name is… She turns to the puppet. Fade out sound. PENNY: What did you just say? EZRA: (JK-47) … I said, you iz… a femamist… lesbian. (monkey puppet) Femamist lesbian, femamist lesbian, (echo) lesbian, lesbian, lesbian… lesbian… lesbian… PENNY: You see, that’s what I thought you said. SOUND Q #28 -- Epic build. The sound of a clap of thunder. “Montagues and Capulets” by Prokofiev plays. PENNY is suddenly bathed in a red spotlight. PENNY turns slowly to the audience with a wide psychotic expression on her face, both her knuckles balled up. PENNY: (hissing) Hello, my name is Penny Lamb… and I know FOR A FACT… we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting before… For you, my deep-fried messiah, are about to be welcomed to a level of leveling you have yet to revel, for now I, Penny Lamb, am the Devil… come now to SEND YOU TO THE REPUBLIC OF…. HELL.

Ohhhh! THE FAITH YOU create as an attraction MUST PROVIDE SATISFACTION… AND… OR… HELL… For now I do not merely want to hurt you, Johnny… No, no, no… Mm-mm. I want… to TASTE YOU. Bite! Into your flesh with my incisors. Have your skin corrode in the BOILING lava cauldron that is now my stomach! PENNY IS ECLIPSED! THE BURNING SUN HAS PASSED OVER THE PASSIVE MOON! I can vomit fire.

She turns and throws the contents of the Thermos (brown confetti) in the puppet’s face. She grabs it by the head. I! … CAN! … VOMIT! … (screaming) FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRE! Fade out sound. She sinks her teeth into the puppet and disappears behind the desk. The lights go back to normal. EZRA stands on the stage blinking. EZRA stares at the audience awkwardly. He picks up his monkey and holds it nervously… Suddenly, he comes up with an idea. EZRA: Ladies and Gentlemen. In these troubled times! I know the question on all your lips. A question for which tonight I shall provide you with satisfaction. For now for the first time in the history of mankind, we shall dare to ask the question! Can a mere puppet break the theatrical fourth wall -- the wall between audience and performer. SOUND Q #29 -- Monkey. Sound plays out. A drum roll plays. EZRA opens up his puppet theatre. His monkey stands in the puppet theatre in profile. The monkey ever-so-slowly turns its head to the audience. The drum roll stops. To the sound of roaring applause, the monkey bows and exits the puppet theatre. PENNY stands up sheepishly, with a waning smile, holding a piece of paper. PENNY: (sheepishly) Anyway… um… after that whole Johnny cheek-biting incident thingy… fortunately for me, Johnny’s public relations firm thought it best that he drop all of the charges.

Apparently, JK-47 having the caa-caa beaten out of him by some fifteen-year-old girl, what with him being a “stone-cold bad-ass who shoots people to watch them bleed” -- that was pretty bad for his “rep”… Anyway. I was extradited back to Canada. But sadly… the story was leaked to the major media. It ruined JK-47’s “street cred” and they have some new “stone-cold, bad-ass” flavour-of-the-month now… I dunno… Ron the Rapping Rapist, or something… And… I was kind of famous for a bit. They even made a movie of the week of my real, live true-life story… JoJo played me. EZRA: I was played by one of the Culkin boys. PENNY: Anyway, I stood trial for drug dealing -- they gave me probation. And that’s when Miss Peachery -- my social worker -- asked me to talk to you all here tonight. To teach you all how to be better citizens… and never turn out like me… And I’ve got some lessons for you. (slowly) Never shoplift, jaywalk, beat up kids, swear, knock on people’s doors and run, be mean to overweight people, talk back to your parents. Stop, drop and roll. Never let your uncle touch you in places you feel uncomfortable with. Don’t do drugs, Unless they are prescribed by a licensed practitioner of the psychiatric profession… and… Lastly, I want to say I know something about true love. And I know most of you guys wouldn’t think I would… ‘Cause I’m, like, this psycho cannibal kid… But this… this is something I’ve thought about my entire life, okay? So. True Love. True love is, like, when they call you up and tell you, “Oh my God, my Mongolian Gerbil just died!” You’re not all, like, “My condolences” or “My heart goes out to you in your time of need.” Like some toy robot that can wind itself up… barfing out ten shiny socially acceptable stock phrases. No, when your true love calls… it goes way beyond that. Way. SOUND Q #30 -- Music Box. Sound plays out. PENNY: Like, when they call you up and say, “My mom is a cud-mulching cow,” their mom is a cud-mulching cow. But when they call you back and say, “I changed my mind, my mom is an angel with gossamer wings.” Guess what, their mom is an angel with gossamer wings… Oh, and I really like that word… “gossamer.” There are some really amazing words in English -- for such a crummy language… Anyway… Okay let me put it to you straight and simple because we don’t got all day, and everybody’s got to get places. (whispering, slowly) In a world where we are ultimately alone, and die in our own arms, love is the closest you come to another person… because it is the closest you come to being another person. So be very careful what you love.

Beat. PENNY: Penny Lamb. Aspiring animal conservationist. Signing out. Beat. PENNY: You got anything to add, Ez’? EZRA: Yes… Wrestling is real -- it’s the world that’s set up. Beat. PENNY: (brightly) Hm. Blackout. SOUND Q #31 -- Curtain call.

get legoland'd 😎

[anxiousstark]

All that’s left

KO-FI | BIG MASTERLIST | 

I normally only read related to Chris Evans and his characters, but here we are.

Word count: 1909

Warnings: Mentions of  injuries, blood, swearing (always), death, etc.

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

All the things you went through could not be compared to the last battle of your life, the one where to save an entire world, numerous people you deeply loved had gradually lost theirs.

It was a terrifying feeling, observing the bright light in their eyes fade away while their eyelids drooped until there was no more energy to keep them open. The guttural voices were stuck in your head as their mouths opened and closed several times. The way they attempted to swallow, believing that the action would let them say their last words. Some got to announce their latest wishes or goodbyes, others weren't so fortunate, gagging on their blood.

Everyone knew that this last war would bring grief, guilt and trauma. And even though everyone knew that some people would inevitably be left behind, they also deeply hoped for them to survive. But perhaps, it was too much to ask for the universe or whoever was up there.

Natasha Romanoff, also known as Black Widow. She was probably one of those people you couldn't help but end up loving like an older sister. She tried to maintain that witty, cold facade to avoid people from deceiving her. Nevertheless, you always thought that she didn't need to maintain an image. Everyone knew how great Natasha Romanoff was.

Deep inside, every one of the Avengers knew that they would lose her. Nat had been a woman with a tough childhood and life. She was someone who believed and claimed not to have a family. Of course, all of this, before she became part of the Avengers. A group of people who would have given their lives for her. However, she was the one who gave up her life.

You sometimes glimpsed at Clint when he was in the compound, staring at the space Nathasa always preferred. It was her seat, her place. An empty one.

You had cried. You had mourned when Clint had come back, swearing he had tried to save her. You knew he had. Everyone knew. But they also knew how Natasha's mind worked. They knew she would sacrifice herself for Clint, one of the closest Avengers to her, and the one who had a wife and children waiting at home.

Notwithstanding, there was a big pain in your heart. You hoped that she felt loved, that she knew that every one of the Avengers had lost a piece of soul and brightness as soon as they understood she was never coming back.

That night, it was Steve Rogers who held you tightly even if his heart was as broken as yours, or even more. His fingers had intertwined with the locks of your hair as he shushed you while his body rocked your own one. If only that was the only sadness you would have to go through.

Not long after Natasha passed away, Tony Stark had sacrificed his life for those he loved. At that time, everything was over. The war with Thanos was over. But, another war invaded everyone. The internal war of dealing with the death of Tony Stark.

How unfair, right? The joker, the one who always tried his best to cheer others up even if it was with sarcastic comments. The one who seemed the brightest was leaving certain darkness in everyone's hearts.

You never expected to see Tony sitting down against ruins as he tried to say his last words to the woman of his life. God, Morgan was just a child and she was back home, of course. Pepper would have to tell the little girl that her dad wouldn't be coming back. Ever.

Tony fought, he fought to stay in this world for a couple of minutes more. He had expressed his everlasting love to Pepper, telling her to remind Morgan of how much he loved her and how she was his salvation. Tony had hugged Peter, repeating over and over again that he believed in him. He was proud of the teenager. Parker would just cry while nodding his head. And then, Tony peeped at you. He wanted to offer you a smile, but the pain was too much for that. The Tony Stark legacy was yours too, and he had pleaded for you to teach Morgan everything you knew. Everything he had taught you.

And as soon as the last flick of life left his eyes, everyone was kneeling on the ground. Steve was beside you, clutching your hand tightly as you sobbed.

Tony Stark was the one who rescued you a couple of years ago. You were someone lost in life. Too young to have all of those horrible thoughts invading your mind. He had just decided to take you in and show you all the potential you had. That's when you started working alongside Tony and Bruce, after learning everything from them.

Before his funeral, you sat next to Pepper and Morgan as Tony had prepared a hologram. You had chuckled because Tony had to leave in a big way.

He looked so real. He looked as if he was sitting down on that chair. And sometimes, it seemed like he could actually look at all of you. Of course, all of this was just what it looked like.

"Then again, that's the hero gig, right?" His eyes seemed to shift from Pepper to you. "Part of the journey is the end." You felt Morgan getting closer to your body. "What am I even tripping for?" Your hand softly rested on her back as Tony got up from his seat. "Everything is gonna work out," He was standing in front of the three of you. "Exactly like it's supposed to." His eyes seemed to find the ones of the little girl. "I love you 3,000." Then, he just vanished, once again.

The day of the funeral was horrible, everyone cried because Tony Stark was deeply loved. Because everything that happened was proof that Tony Stark had a heart.

However, if we talked about the present, your heart ached as much as your legs. Your heart throbbed because Steve had left a letter on your door, letting you know that he was going to return the stones to the same moment where he got them. Steve was leaving. Perhaps not to come back.

And your legs ached because you were running to the only place where you knew he could be right now. In the distance, you could recognise Bruce, Sam and Bucky. The Captain was getting on the platform, his suit changing from the usual one to red and white. "Steve!" You continued running, not thinking you will arrive on time. Steve made a gesture, begging Bruce to continue with the process. "Steve! Please!" Tears started running down your cheeks.

"Going Quantum," Bruce informed. "Three,"

"Steve, I swear to god I will kill you!" You tried to run faster, but your legs gave up as you fell to the ground. "Steve Rogers, I swear to god!" You screamed once again, getting up and ignoring the mud stuck to your cheeks due to your tears.

"Two..." Sam and Bucky looked between the both of you. The Falcon was pained to see you in that situation as much as Bucky. Both of them were your friends. And both of them had noticed the longing gazes you directed towards their other friend.

"STEVE!" You were now closer to Bruce, quickly stopping the machine. "Don't you dare to turn it on." Your finger accusingly pointed at Banner, who nodded, a little frightened of how angry you were.

"Y/N," A firm voice sounded. "I need to get back and put these stones where they bel-."

"Who are you trying to lie to?" Your voice cracked. "You are going back to the past and you will not return." You shook your head. "And that's not fair on Sam because he had started to like you and he considers you his friend now, right?" I glanced at Sam, who bit his lower lip and nodded. "That's not fair on Bucky! He has always been there for you and you are just going to leave him? You can't just leave him, Steve!" Bucky sighed, glancing at the floor. "We just lost a lot of people we profoundly loved. It is unfair that you make us go through that once again because-."

"Breathe." He interrupted me. "This isn't my place anymore."

You yelled, trying to get rid of some of the anger invading your body. "You, Steve Rogers, are the biggest liar ever!" He furrowed his eyebrows, sighing and letting you go on. "You gotta move on," You repeated those words. The words he had told a group of people who were trying to get through the losses of the blip. "You gotta move on. The world is in our hands. It's left to us, guys. And we gotta do something with it." You were now sobbing harder. "O-otherwise..."

"I'm sorry," He whispered. "But, this life is no longer for me, Y/N." He glanced at Bruce, then back at you. "I wish I didn't have to do this."

"Nothing is making you go back!" You cried. "You can return the stones then come back to us and-." You gasped. "Steve, I know I'm selfish for saying this but please, don't go back to her-."

"Y/N," His voice was firmer this time. "I have nothing to do here, okay? Believe me. Yes, I will have to leave you all, but that's a price I must pay. You knew I always felt like this was not my world. Everything was always too strange for me." He sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I love you all. Especially, you. I love you. But I'm not the one you deserve." Tears fell down his cheeks. "Take care."

Before you could say anything more, he disappeared. You glanced at Bruce, glaring at him for listening to Steve and then, you got on the platform, screaming with all your strength. "That's for me to decide, Steve Rogers! That's for me to decide!" You recovered as soon as possible, running towards Bruce after noticing that Steve wasn't back yet. "Bring him! Bring him back!" Bucky walked closer to you, resting a hand on your shoulder as you continued crying. "How long until he comes back?"

Sam glanced at the other two men, sighing. "He isn't coming back." He coughed. His voice cracking. "Steve isn't coming back."

"He believes he isn't apt for this world." Before you could answer, Bucky interrupted you. "I know, it sounds stupid. But he truly felt like that." He shuffled closer to you. "He didn't go back to Peggy. Believe me."

"Then why?"

"Because he believed he wasn't enough for you." Sam stepped forward. "We tried to let him know that he was. But he said that he was never able to be there for you as much as he wanted to." He was always there. "He went back to safety. To the world, he knew. A world without," He glanced around. "All of this."

"A world without me." There was no reason to justify his actions, even if you wanted to. "So... this is all that's left."

"Not all." Bucky placed a tiny box on your hand. "He would probably kill me if he knew I gave you this. But I think you deserve to know. You deserve to...just...open it."

A ring. There was a ring with both of your names. A wedding ring.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Night Meeting Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 夜会之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Important references are made to Victor’s Return Home Date, which has not been released in EN. Do read that first before proceeding :>

[ This date was released in CN on 26 October 2020 ]

The red light makes its countdown from 99 seconds. Victor pulls on the handbrake, turning to look at me. 

Victor: What are you looking at - the rules of the competition?

MC: Nope. I’m checking to see who’s participating in the competition, and whether there’s anyone I recognise.

Half a year ago, Victor sent out invitations to small-and-medium enterprises - LFG’s investees - inviting them to participate in a simulation competition in Loveland City.

The winner of the competition will acquire a fifty million dollar investment from LFG.

A few companies politely declined, feeling that LFG was too lofty. But a few open-minded young CEOs were willing to participate.

And I am one of them.

Victor: Goldman is responsible for this competition, so you can look for him if you face any issues.

MC: Does this mean Goldman will have all the contact details of the participating CEOs?

I hold up the notebook laptop in my hands and show it to him, deliberately giving him a sincere smile. 

MC: Do these business elites have good editing skills, or are they truly this handsome?

A sudden drizzle descends from the gloomy sky.

Victor taps on the steering wheel indifferently, his ring finger clicking the windshield wiper.

Victor: There isn’t a discrepancy between the actual people and the photographs.

MC: So they truly... have their merits.

Probably because my awe sounded too genuine, Victor’s eyelid twitches slightly.

Victor: You could look for them yourself to get their contact details. The reason why LFG is holding this competition is to allow for interaction among elite businessmen from different industries, and to expand their network.

MC: ...yes yes yes. A few days after interacting with them, we’ll be able to clarify what they are good at, what sort of personalities they have, and whether there’s a possibility of collaboration in the future. To a start-up company, financing channels that can provide these resources are even more important than the funds themselves. Victor... I know all this.

Victor: But?

MC: But according to the rules of the competition, I have to be locked in the hotel for a full seven days.

Victor turns a deaf ear to me. He pushes the handbrake, stepping on the accelerator.

In a soft voice, I continue sending out hints. 

MC: Don’t you have anything else to warn me about? For example, to take care of my safety?

Victor turns the steering wheel to the right, casting his line of sight to the rearview mirror.

Victor: You’re very safe in LFG’s hotel. There’s nothing to be cautious about.

With this, the logo of LFG’s hotel comes into view. 

I reach out to unbuckle my seatbelt, but Victor stops me.

Victor: I’m driving to the underground carpark.

MC: The rain isn’t that bad. Alighting me at the entrance will do.

Victor doesn’t respond. He has already passed the gate, and has entered the carpark.

After coursing through the familiar carpark, the car pulls up in front of the elevator. 

Since it’s still early, only a sparse number of cars are in the carpark. The surroundings are quiet, and there’s not a single person around. 

...I first glance at him out of the corner of my eyes.

MC: I’m off.

Victor: Mm.

Then, I unbuckle my seatbelt. 

MC: Are you going back to LFG now?

Victor: Mm.

After a pause, I take my handbag.

MC: I’m... leaving now?

Victor lowers his eyes slightly, releasing a very soft chuckle.

He’s doing this on purpose! I immediately push the car door open--

A hand suddenly lands on the right side of my forehead. I subconsciously turn my face to the left. He leans forward, pressing his lips to my hair.

Victor: Be safe.

His low voice encapsulates a mildly teasing smile and breath. It’s as though he’s giving me a tiny, tangled compliment. Even his lowered voice is mixed with cheerful satisfaction.

I nuzzle my head into his palm. His sleeve and wristwatch slide downwards, revealing the edge of his palm and his long, slender fingers.

MC: You too. Drive safely.

After disembarking from the car, I turn around again and wave at him.

MC: I’ll strive to win the competition!

-

Goldman: Firstly, I’m grateful to all the participants for coming here despite your busy schedules.

Goldman: I trust that everyone has taken a cursory look through the rules of the competition before coming here. 

Goldman: In this competition, you have to study an LFG acquisition case, and produce an analysis report from any perspective. 

Goldman: The employees will be distributing the case study materials to the participants. According to the rules, the submission date for the report is the final day of the competition. 

Goldman: In the meantime, everyone can use the leisure time in the evening to work on this task.

Without a lively atmosphere that other competitions have, Goldman informs everyone about the important topic of this competition the moment everyone takes their seats.

The meeting room is on the 32nd floor. The view outside the window features Loveland City’s financial centres and tall skyscrapers, the glass windows of every building refracting rational, cold light. 

Enveloped by the overcast sky and light drizzle, the entire business district looks extremely serene. 

Very soon, hardcopy versions of the case study materials, as well as a USB drive containing the files, are in my hands. The sound of paper can be heard as the people around me start reading.

After a while, the participants exchange glances, and start discussing softly.

??: Business plans, meeting minutes, financial statements, employee resumes... LFG is letting us look at every brick of SE. 

??: It was worth making the trip here - this is all insider information! It’s such a waste that there aren’t contact numbers on the employee resumes, so I can’t tell who is who. 

??: I like this topic. It’s in line with Victor’s style. 

Out of all LFG investments, SE - a network video platform - was its worst.

When the information was first announced, every financial platform used phrases like “LFG’s Battle of Waterloo” or “Victor’s wrong decision” to attract attention. 

Even though many people have already forgotten about this matter with the passage of time, Victor, without doubt, still remembers it.

-

In the evening, I read through the materials, which span over three hundred pages, seriously. Every day and night that Victor revisited SE’s business model flashes past my eyes. 

Victor must have found a lead here, and clearly identified every minor detail resulting in SE’s collapse. 

Now that I’m the one in his shoes, can I do it?

Feeling drowsy, I clip up my fringe and lean against the chair, staring at the ceiling.

My phone suddenly rings. It’s a certain someone’s special ringtone, and I’m so surprised that I jolt awake.

Victor: How was today?

MC: It was very enriching. I made so many new friends, and participated in the most difficult ERP Sand Table Simulation in my entire life. I even had a seafood buffet in LFG’s hotel, which is deserving of its reputation. What about you? Are you still in the office?

[Trivia] An ERP (Enterprise Resource Planning System) Sand Table Simulation (沙盘模拟 - “sha pan mo ni”) is a relatively new teaching mode of accounting in China, which cultivates one’s ability of business operation, coordination and interpersonal communication. It basically simulates the operation of an enterprise, which includes marketing, production, logistics, financial centres, etc.

Victor: Mm.

MC: Are you standing at the window looking at the scenery?

Victor: Mm, I just realised that the rain has stopped.

I draw back the curtains, looking at the night view beneath my feet. It’s already very late, but the lights from office buildings illuminate the night distinctly. 

They even reveal the sharp and lonely colours of the cloudy night.

This is one representation of “business”.

Before the collapse of the magnificent SE, its building was often lit up - a starlight converging with the city’s night scene.

The same goes for LFG’s building.

MC: Once you’re done, head home early to rest.

Victor: Are you preparing to sleep?

Looking at the tiny mountain of materials on the table, I let out an anguished wail.

MC: CEO Victor, don’t you know how demanding the rules you set for the competition are? How could I be sleeping at this time!

At the other end of the line, Victor cannot help but laugh.

Victor: In that case, I’ll wish you the winning prize?

MC: Sure, I accept your blessings!

-

This is the fourth cup of coffee I’m having today.

Time is tight, so I’m unable to comb through every single one of SE’s business proposals and then formulate them into words. I need to go straight into the heart of the matter, and hit the nail on the head!

Even so, I stare at the file on my laptop which currently spans over thirty thousand words. There’s a sense of unease in my heart.

Did I include too much nonsense? 

It’s already the evening of the fifth day, and I’ll have to submit the report in 37 hours...

Restless and anxious, I down the remaining half of my americano, then draw a bunch of squiggles on my draft.

The doorbell suddenly rings. 

A possibility flashes in my mind. I run over frantically, looking through the peephole at the person standing outside.

MC: W-wait for a moment. Victor, wait for a while!

With fiery speed, I rush to the dressing table to tidy myself up, then rush back to open the door.

Victor: Did I come at the wrong time?

MC: No you didn’t...

Before I finish speaking, Victor reaches out to touch the pimple patch on my forehead.

Victor: What’s this?

MC: Worry, internal heat, loss of sleep, supper... The main reason could be the fried chicken I had for supper the day before yesterday.

Victor: You don’t know how to eat something better even with the competition funds from the company.

Without waiting for him to continue, I press him down onto the sofa in the living room.

MC: Let’s continue our chat later. Hold on, I’ll tidy up some things!

It becomes evident that I have some issues estimating how long “a moment” is.

By the time I finish combing through my outline and prepare to do a further refinement, more than an hour has passed. Victor remains seated on the sofa, waiting for me. 

I blink at him guiltily.

Victor: Are you done?

MC: Not yet, but I can take a break~

I walk over, kneeling on the empty space on the sofa, leaning my entire body onto him.

Victor shifts closer, placing a hand on my waist in a habitual manner.

Victor: How’s the competition?

With a frown, I shake my head.

MC: As of now, I’m ranked in 13th place. Your fifty million dollar investment wouldn’t reach me.

Victor glances at the outline and the half-completed draft in my hand.

Victor: You still want to compete when you have no prospects?

MC: Of course. I’ve already worked on this for so long, so I should at least produce something.

I tilt my head on Victor’s shoulder, taking another look at the report I've spent days writing. The more I look at it, the more dissatisfied I am. So, I just heave several deep sighs.

MC: But some of the competitors are really formidable. I can tell that they’re treating this competition as a game - they don’t put much heart into it, and they aren’t very serious about it. Even so, they win very easily, and take the lead very easily.

I say excitedly, straightening up and facing Victor. 

MC: For example, the CEO from Yao Yue, the media company, has won me over. During the ERP Sand Table Simulation on the first day, he actually went to other groups to poach members halfway through. And poaching other people was just the first step. Once their funding chain was in operation, they went around purchasing other production lines, and continuously expanded their scope.

Victor smiles faintly, his expression reflecting a tacit understanding.

Victor: You aren’t bad either. Goldman told me that among all the competitors, you were the first one who thought of capitalising on rent to construct the production line. 

MC: You said it yourself - whatever isn’t prohibited in the rules is permissible.

Furthermore, Victor had prepared for numerous eventualities during the game, and arranged for Goldman to react accordingly. Nobody’s creativity can disrupt the process of the game. 

Thinking about this, I once again feel disheartened, plopping myself back atop Victor’s chest, looking at the report that I have no idea how to amend.

MC: As compared to them, I’m still far behind... It’s so difficult to surpass you.

Victor suddenly lapses into silence, his hand on my back.

-

The air-con in the middle blows out rustling wind. It’s very soft, but I hear it very clearly because of how quiet the room is. 

Accompanying the regulated white noise is the comfortable warmth from Victor’s arms. Four cups of coffee doesn’t seem to be of much use.

Drowsily, I stare at a sentence on the report, warning myself repeatedly: I can’t sleep yet.

Perhaps noticing that I haven’t spoken for a long time, and that I’m so tired that my eyes have drifted shut, Victor gently takes the file away from my hand.

MC: ...I’m not sleeping.

Hearing my indistinct mumble, he lets out a resigned chuckle. 

Victor: Are you going to continue amending it?

So tired that I can no longer open my eyes, I give him a nod, rubbing the side of my face on his chest.

The scent of a fresh bath entwines with cologne, twirling around the tip of my nose. It’s such a pleasant scent that it makes one feel as though breathing is a kind of luxury.

Likely not knowing how to deal with me, Victor holds onto the file and doesn’t move.

It’s only until I hug his waist contentedly like a cat which has had its fill of being coquettish, that he flips through the file, probably wanting to have a quick look at what I’ve written.

After a while, he touches the ends of my hair.

Victor: The overall reasoning has no issues. But regarding the marketing strategy...

I reach out to cover his mouth. Because I’m not looking, my fingers fumble on his face for a moment.

MC: This is a competition, so you can't help. And this is my competition, so I can do it independently... Also, you specially came over at night just to comment on my report?

Victor: Why else do you think I’d be here?

I open my eyes lazily and look at his chin. With a hum, I bury my face into the crook of his neck, coquettishly blowing into his ear.

MC: Teacher Victor...

MC: I’m calling you ‘Teacher’ not because I want to talk about business methods and progress in work.

Victor doesn’t say anything. He places the file on the coffee table. After a pause, he speaks softly.

Victor: You never mentioned that your goal was to surpass me. 

MC: I have, but you didn’t take me seriously...

I rise from his chest, giving him a firm look.

MC: I’m not that silly to think that just because I’ve won a few media-related prizes and produced a few good programs, I’m already on the same level as you. You’ve been taking care of me in a greenhouse, keeping out the wind and rain for me. All I can do is to make a few flowers bloom under your meticulous care.

The lenses of his thin spectacles reflect the warm and yellow ceiling lights. Behind the lenses, there are deep emotions in Victor’s eyes.

Victor: When did you have such a thought?

My line of sight falls onto the file on the coffee table. On the first page of the report, the words “SE” have been circled with a pencil.

MC: When SE got into trouble, you flew to France and were so busy that you didn’t sleep for days...

MC: And when you were back in the country, you spent half the year arranging for the sale of the property and didn’t tell me a single word about it. That’s when it started.

This has been a knot residing in my heart, and I've never brought it up to him.

I really wanted to help even a little, but I didn’t manage to do anything.

Unable to be needed by him, unable to become a person he can face difficulties with... A voice in my heart has always been reminding me of such a reality. And I'm not going to simply resign myself to it.

Victor: What happened with SE is just an example. We’re from different businesses and different fields. There’s no need to compare yourself with me. Also, I’m older than you. When you’ve reached my age, you might attain the achievements I have today.

Victor lifts his head to look at me, his eyes filled with his usual resoluteness.

Although I only said one thing, he seems to have understood everything.

Victor: You’ve never been a flower I’ve been raising in a greenhouse. At any point in time, I do need you very much. When SE was in trouble and the PR Department couldn’t communicate with the media, they talked to you about it. It’s not as if you weren’t of any help.

You tilt your head to look at him. Furrowing your brows, you bite your lip.

MC: Could we not talk about such general principles? I can understand them, but the things I can do are always limited... Which is why I’ll not give up on this goal.

Victor sits upright, closing the distance between us. His grip on my back tightens slightly, and his voice is even lower than before.

Victor: Who was the one who said she didn’t want to talk about business methods and progress in work? 

Victor: Is the phrase “I need you” also considered a general principle?

I lower my head and chuckle, pushing at his chest lightly with my fingertips. He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he shifts forward even more.

Victor: What do you think I specially came over so late at night to do?

His voice carries with it his exhaled breath, reminiscent of a silk thread on my collarbone, causing a ticklish sensation to surface.

I have no choice but to lift myself up, cupping his cheeks in my hands.

MC: Teacher Victor, you look very good in spectacles.

[Note] AND THEN EVERYTHING FADES TO BLACK AND YOU KNOW THINGS ARE GETTING SPICY

Victor: Still amending your report?

MC: I will. I’ll amend it after you leave.

Victor: In that case, when do you want me to leave?

MC: ...

MC: I still have an entire day tomorrow.

Victor: Are you sure?

MC: ...don’t tempt me!

Victor: I’m seeking your opinion. The decision rests with you.

-

🌹 MOMENTS 🌹

Victor: Looks like the dishes in LFG’s hotel are passable. A certain someone actually put on weight after being locked in for seven days,

MC: Fried chicken! Five star recommendation! The breaded chicken thigh paired with plum sauce was so delicious that I was on the verge of tears!

Victor: I’ll give you an opportunity. Bring your proposal over and exchange it for the secret recipe for the dipping sauce.

-

Victor: Looks like the dishes in LFG’s hotel are passable. A certain someone actually put on weight after being locked in it for seven days,

MC: Not just the dishes - the wine was also very good!

Victor: When did you secretly drink wine?

-

Victor: Looks like the dishes in LFG’s hotel are passable. A certain someone actually put on weight after being locked in it for seven days,

MC: Every meal was a buffet, so it’s difficult not to gain weight...

Victor: A greedy cat always has many excuses.

-

Phone call: here

[deansmom]

What I wouldn’t GIVE to be able to just completely redo certain pieces of media. Like, gilmore girls revival?

Luke and Lorelai got married about a year after the finale. They had another kid (!) and they renovated the house even more. The show picks up with their kid starting high school. They’re the central characters of the show - Luke and Lorelai raising their kid together, being a little older than all the other parents, etc. Both of them have solid relationships with their respective kids, and the relationships with Anna and Chris are weird and kinda strained but like, solid? They see each other at family functions and it’s weird but it’s like, fine.

Rory is single, just having fun, and she can still not technically have an apartment, but she’s got a thriving freelancing career so she’s traveling all over. She pops in once or twice an episode (keeping the season per episode framework) because she’s nearby for a job. Her and Jess reconnect over work and we see that happen in Boston or something, but through each of her appearances (after the first one) she’s mentioning Jess more and more.

Lane and Zack got divorced a couple years after they got married, but they’re still great friends and coparent happily - they just woke up one day and realized they weren’t happy. A year before the revival picks up, Lane realizes “Oh. I like women.” So, she has to come out to Rory & Lorelai and that’s her main storyline for the revival. Mrs. Kim has a small aneurysm at first, but comes around surprisingly quickly. Lane tells her mom and she says “…at least I’m not getting divorced again?” And runs out of the house because she may be a grown ass adult but she’s still a little scared of her mom. Also, Lane’s like a music teacher or something - Hep Alien never took off but music is a big part of her daily life.

Paris gets drunk on a girls trip and makes out with Lane and Lane is like “you’re drunk we can’t do this” and the next morning over breakfast with Rory she’s like “…hey rory? I think I like Paris.” And Rory’s response is just to flag down the waiter and ask for the bottle of champagne from their mimosas, but listens to lane work through her feelings and is a supportive friend.

The whole thing focuses mainly on Luke & Lorelai, but their kid constantly gets compared to Rory and Jess and them finding their own identity in Stars Hollow is like, The Main Plot. Jess, April and Rory individually have a talk with them and explain that who they are is exactly who they’re supposed to be and everyone who matters will be able to see that.

Luke & Lorelai decide to renew their vows and that’s a background thing and in the last episode, Jess & Rory show up to the renewal together. Holding hands. Lorelai pretends to be upset about it but isn’t. Luke is unabashedly THRILLED. “I knew it! I knew you guys would end up together!”

Lorelai cut Emily out of her life again after Richard died but invites her to her renewal at the last moment and Emily shows up and just - apologizes. For everything. A genuine, heartfelt moment where she acknowledges everything she did and “I understand if you can’t accept it, but I truly am so sorry, Lorelai. If I could change it -“ “Mom. It’s in the past. Thank you for coming. I’m really happy that you’re here.” And it’s not like, resolved, because she’s still Emily and she’s still Lorelai, but now they actively work on communication.

Rory’s wedding present to them is the tackiest set of wine glasses that say “#1 grandma” and “#1 grandpa” and Lorelai doesn’t see it (she’s not wearing her glasses) but Luke does and he starts !!!!!! And they’re all laughing and crying and Lorelai realizes “OHMYGOD YOURE PREGNANT?????” More celebrating, cut to black.

[aomineavenue]

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 008. healing

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. 

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: completed. | series masterlist

↩ chapter seven bonus | healing | at peace ↪

mia speaks:

We’re getting real close to the end, and I don’t think I’ll be ready to part with Atsumu just yet. But I’m super duper excited to start Stubborn. 

If it isn’t too much, please leave a little COMMENT on what you think of this piece or REBLOG if you like it! Thank you.

Rejection can be defined as an act of pushing someone or something away. It is also considered as something to be experienced on a large scale or small ways in everyday life. In the field of mental health care, rejection most frequently refers to the feelings of sadness, or grief people feel when they are not accepted by others. 

In Atsumu’s case, it was the latter. 

The moment he had decided to leave the party to seek you out, he was more or less, on edge. The fear of rejection was eating him out as he traveled back to Kanagawa, and even then as he stared at the hospital door that leads to Atsuhiro’s room where he assumes you’re most likely already in deep slumber from how late it is. However, that doesn’t stop him from his mission, eventually finding the courage to press his knuckles against the door to knock. 

A minute passed and there was still no answer, a part of him decided it was best to leave, so you can rest but wanting to give it another chance, he knocks on the door once more. The lack of response disappoints him but he diminishes it with a little light of hope, telling himself that you’re probably asleep and it was best to try later. As he was about to leave, the hospital door slides open and his gaze lands on your exhausted, surprised, features. 

He stares at you in adoration and before he could stop himself, the words slip out of his lips.  "I love you." 

Silence engulfs the two of you comfortably, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He wonders if his beating heart was loud enough for you to hear through the silence. He watches in anticipation how your features shift from confusion to something he couldn't quite recognize. For a second, he berates himself for blurting out such foolishness.

Was it horror? Pity? He couldn't possibly comprehend with his nerves on overdrive, about a handful of thoughts swimming in his mind. If only he knew your heart was beating against its constraints just as fast as his, or that you wanted to throw your arms around him and finally claim him as yours at that very moment. He calls out your name in a stutter to pull you out of your shocked trance, fighting his urge to step through the threshold and pull you into his arms. He holds back the words clawing their way out of his mouth, not wanting to overwhelm you with his sudden burst of emotions. But mostly because he was afraid.

Afraid of humiliation, and of rejection. He was afraid that his feelings for you were no longer reciprocated. Though, he wouldn't blame you. He would understand if he was too late. It had been six years after all, and you, out of the both of you, deserve way better than this. Better than him. 

However, a part of him wishes it were otherwise. He recalls the night he summoned the tiniest spark of courage to capture your lips with his own once more after so long. He doesn't regret his actions, because he realized things that night as your own lips move against his own. It was as if the missing puzzle piece had been rummaged through the piles of chaotic emotions and finally found its rightful place. 

It just felt right. 

If it weren’t for the ridiculous hounds of reporters that interrupted the night, he may have used that opportunity to win you over or at least have a proper talk with you since obviously there are still a lot of unfinished business between the two of you that need fixing for the sake of Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro. 

“What are you doing here?” he hears you question, snapping out of his own thoughts, his shoulders growing tense. 

He slips his hands into the pockets of his coat, wanting to hide his trembling fingers from your sight. “I know I should have reached out sooner, and there isn’t any way I could possibly excuse myself out of that. I’ve probably left you wondering again, and that’s the last thing I want.” 

“It’s the middle of the night, Atsumu.” you mutter underneath your breath, brows furrowing. “What were you doing up anyways?” 

He lifts his shoulders up into a timid shrug, “I was at a party. I couldn’t get you out of my head, so I went straight here. I know it’s late and I should have waited but it’s been days since we last spoke and I couldn’t take it anymore. I—I needed to see you.”

“I don’t know what to say…” you release a heavy sigh, shifting your gaze away from him as you feel your cheeks heat up from God knows what. Embarrassment? Flattery? God, you could only curse at yourself for feeling that way ever since the two of you shared that kiss. 

The corners of his mouth tug up to a small smile, “You don’t have to say anything, just hear me out.” As you give him a nod after lifting your head to meet his gaze once more, he’s hit with a sudden rush of confidence, wondering if this was finally his chance to spill the feelings that had been occupying his thoughts since the two of you reunited. 

It was a mixture of anger and hate the moment he had realized it was you, that was for sure, he’d been frustrated but the one thing that’s been bothering him was the thought of you disappearing again. This time, taking the kids, his sons that he had grown to adore, away from him. The very thought had been enough for him to lower his pride, and a good push from his twin brother. His brother’s words replaying his head. 

‘Quit your moping and win her over before I do.’ 

“I love you,” he repeats his earlier words; this time with confidence, arms extending out to reach out for your hands which somehow, surprisingly for the both of you, you oblige, letting his fingers lace with yours. “I’ve loved you as my best friend the very moment when we were kids when you laughed at me for tripping and having the ice cream slip from my hands and landing on our grumpy neighbor’s bald head. I think a part of me started loving you there and then when you pulled me up from the ground and dragged me laughing away to avoid us getting into trouble.” You stifle a laugh, your eyes scrunching up in amusement at the memory and he couldn’t help but let a Cheshire grin form on his own lips at the sight of your happiness, feeling a sudden surge of happiness bubble in his own chest. There and then, he realized that he truly adored you and that he’s missed you. Missed this. 

Missed the warmth that radiated from just your mere touch. 

“I’ve loved you since we started high school and I know I had a really shitty way in showing that, being so absorbed in volleyball and everything, I don't think I ever deserved you then,” he lets out a sigh, “I never deserved your care. Despite me lashing out because of my own frustrations, you pulled me back into reality just as Osamu could and looking back now, I had been so blessed. And I…” he trails off, tearing his gaze away from yours in shame and his heart skips a beat at your gesture, squeezing his hands in a form of reassurance, “I took it for granted. I realized it too late and…” 

He lets out a sob, lifting his head to meet yours once more and he lets the tears spill from the corners of his eyes. Slowly, he lowers himself down onto his knees and he watches your eyes widen as he gives your hands a squeeze of his own, “Let me prove it to you how sorry I am, please. I know I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve to be a part of Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro’s liv—” 

It almost seemed like time stood still for Atsumu as you drop down to your own knees in front of him, pulling your hands away from his grip, only for you to grip the fabric of his shirt beneath his coat between your fingers, pulling him closer to your body as you lower your head to rest your forehead on his shoulder. Despite the layering of clothes that protected his skin from the cold, he could feel the patch of wetness growing on his shoulder from the tears that flowed from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Atsumu. I’m sorry as well,” those words spill from your mouth, despite your words mixed with sobs and you trying to keep your voice to a whisper to not disturb the residence of the hospital on the floor, he could hear you loud and clear. “I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry for leaving you when you needed me the most. I’m—” you cut yourself off with another sob. 

The sight of your vulnerable state was enough for Atsumu’s heart to clench in its confinement and slowly, his arms snake around your hips to pull you closer to his body. The both of you release a sigh from the warmth. You continue, “You deserve to be loved, Atsumu. You really do. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I’m sorry for depriving you of the chance to raise such wonderful sons. I—I’m sorry.” 

The cold hospital floor didn’t even bother the two of you. The warmth radiating off of each other’s embrace was enough. 

Home.

The blinding fluorescent lights almost stabs his eyes as he slowly flutters his eyelids open, a hiss escaping his lips from the sudden burst of light. He tries to shield his eyes from such torture by lifting his heavy arm only to let out a groan as a shriek echoes through the small room. Groggily, he turns his head towards the direction of the assault to his ears and blinks his eyelids a couple of times to adjust his sight. 

He suddenly wishes he hadn’t woken up right at this moment. 

As the blonde model notices Atsumu moving from his bed, her eyes widen in excitement at the sight of him awake, trying her best to push through his twin’s protective stance. “Tsumtsum! You’re awake and okay!” she squeals and he winces in response. Atsumu knows his brother well, and from the proximity from between the two by the door, despite his brother’s back facing him, he could tell from his mere posture that his twin had his usual scowl on his face when dealing with the women in his life. He watches from the bed as Yumi turns to face his twin, a scowl scrunching up in her features as she crosses her arms across her chest and stomps her feet. “Can you please tell your brother over here to let me through? I’m your girlfriend!” she huffs. 

“Please pull your head out of your ass,” Osamu snaps and continues to hold Yumi back from entering his brother’s room. “You were never his girlfriend and I’m pretty sure he made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with you a few nights ago. So why don’t you do the whole hospital a favor? Shut up and leave, because I’m pretty sure your excessive whining is disturbing the patients.” 

Throughout Osamu’s annoyed speech, Atsumu had successfully pushed himself to sit on the bed without any assistance. He lets out a groan of pain and uses what little strength he has to press his back against the headboard of the hospital bed. Just as Yumi was about to retort, Atsumu calls for her attention from the bed. Yumi was quick to react, looking over at Atsumu. “Yes, baby?” 

Osamu scrunches up his face in disgust and Atsumu can only let out a sigh, not having the energy to argue with her. “Please leave.” 

The hopeful features that were splashed in her features disappear in a second at Atsumu’s command, “B—But…” 

“Leave, I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” he sighs, tearing his gaze away from Yumi to look over at his brother who had turned his head to look at him over his shoulder, his eyes pleading Osamu to get rid of the irritating model from the premises, “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer regarding a restraining order. Don’t think I didn’t hear from my son how some ‘mean looking lady’ had ambushed his mother yesterday on the way to the hospital.” 

The model can only gape at Atsumu’s words, blinking in confusion. She stutters, “S—So—Son?” 

“Goodbye now,” Osamu interrupts by sliding the door shut right in front of Yumi’s face, using her dazed gaze to his advantage by locking the door. Turning around, he arches a brow in curiosity towards his brother who looked nowhere near comfortable in his position, “Are you sure it was the right move to let Yumi, of all people, that you have a son?” 

Atsumu lets out a frustrated sigh before waving his hand dismissively, “I’ll handle it.” 

“How are you feeling?” Osamu asks as he occupies the seat next to Atsumu’s bed, “Judging by the look on your face, probably shit huh?” 

Atsumu rolls his eyes before giving his brother a glare, “Yeah, no shit there.” 

“It’s expected,” his brother lifts his shoulders up in a shrug as he leans back against his seat, “Your doctor did list down what you can and can’t do after this surgery, and well, what you would be feeling right after, so this is to be expected. Unless, you didn’t really listen?” 

“Of course I listened, ya shit.” Atsumu snaps, brows furrowing. 

Osamu lets a laugh escape his lips, a grin taking place on his lips, “Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Why is my head hurting so fucking bad?” he lets out a groan, fluttering his eyes shut in annoyance for the pounding headache.  

“You don’t remember?” 

Atsumu flutters his eyelids back open to look at his brother in confusion, “What are you talking about?” 

“You fucking got out of bed the moment you were put into this room after your surgery, you dimwit.” Osamu scolds him with a glare, bringing his hands up to massage his temples with the tips of his fingers, “You were told to rest, not to get out of bed. You passed out after the nurse tried getting you back to bed, in the hallway mind you, and Atsuhiko had to witness it. You didn’t know how scared the little boy was after you collapsed head first.” 

Atsumu winces from the tone his twin was using, not that he cared for his brother’s scolding but it seemed the medication that was still in his system made everything sensitive, including his hearing. A frown makes its way to his lips at the mention of his son, “How about his brother? How’s Atsuhiro? His transfusion was just right after my surgery wasn’t it?” 

“Stop talking and let me explain,” he sighs at his brother’s impatience but somehow he inwardly smiles at this side of his brother. 

Since Atsumu had rushed out of the V.League Associations Party to confess his feelings to you, almost everyone noticed a change in him. Sure, he still attended training but according to Coach Samson, Atsumu seemed to be in top shape and even seemed to be more relaxed and enjoying his time on court. Of course, people who knew of the situation Atsumu was in, knew exactly the reason as to why he was in such condition. 

Ever since the two of you cried to each other, keep in mind, in a hospital hallway, on the cold floor, there was an honest shift in the atmosphere that surrounded both of you. It was calmer and full of the warmth that Atsumu and you had been longing. And for the volleyball player, having the chance to spend some time with his kids was a huge bonus. 

It made Atsumu feel complete. 

Especially when Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro had started addressing him as their father. Yes, Atsumu was on different levels of high; the highest peak of Mount Fuji, Cloud Nine, heck he was just so happy he doesn’t want to let this feeling out of his grasp. And he’d be damned if someone tried to take such joy from him. There was no way that he’d let this good thing going for him slip through his fingers for as long as he lived. 

So the very thought of Atsuhiko witnessing him collapse and fearing for his state was enough for his heart to hurt, he’d never meant to worry the little boy. As the father, shouldn’t he be the one worrying for his sons? He knows what his kids are thinking, having them (mostly Atsuhiko) bluntly express their fears of their father disappearing again. So the sight of him fainting in front of Atsuhiko had probably sent the little boy into panic. He’d have to make it up to him soon. 

“It’s too soon to tell if the transfusion was a success,” Osamu stars, watching his brother inhale sharply as anxiety bubbled in his chest. “But so far, everything looks good. I was with them earlier when the doctor came in and he said he’ll be staying in for another day to monitor him. If everything’s good, he can leave the hospital and return every 6 months until he doesn’t need to have a transfusion anymore.” 

He nods slowly, “And what about if the transfusion isn’t successful?” 

“I don’t think that would be the case,” Osamu lifts his shoulders up in a shrug and gives his brother a reassuring smile, “Atsuhiro and you are a match, so far there aren’t any complications. It’s a success, ‘Tsumu. Don’t worry too much. Focus on getting better. Oh, and actually…” 

Atsumu raises a brow at his twin, “What? You tell me not to worry and end your sentence like that? I ought to smack you if my body isn’t sore as fuck.” 

A chuckle escapes the other twin seated on the chair next to the bed, a sly grin forming on his lips as he remembers the conversation from earlier. “Mom may, or may not be already planning your wedding.” 

He splutters, eyes growing wide. He feels his cheeks heat up from the sheer thought of approaching you after his own mother had probably brought up the idea of marriage to you while he wasn’t present to stop her. Suddenly, he’s embarrassed to face you. “Please don’t tell me she had been pestering about marriage with my sons present.” 

A smile curls up on Osamu’s lips at how his twin addresses the younger twins as his sons before he shakes his head in response, “Nah, Suwa-san took Atsuhiko out earlier for the day and I was keeping Atsuhiro occupied.” 

“Suwa-san?” 

Osamu rolls his eyes, “Reiji, purple haired dude that’s always with your girlfriend.” 

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” he grumbles underneath his breath, frowning. 

His twin lets out a laugh as he teases, “yet. You two are practically married.” 

“I don’t know…” he lets out a sigh, “Do you think she’d be happier with that Reiji guy? He’s been with her ever since…” 

“You’re lucky you’re in a hospital bed or else I would have kicked your ass for that negative pea brain of yours,” Osamu grunts, unamused by his twin brother’s words. Sure, he often teased his twin but he especially didn’t like it when Atsumu put himself down over something serious. “Don’t go there. Just don’t. The two of you have talked things out haven’t you?” 

“How do you—” 

Osamu cuts him off with a dismissive wave, “She told me. We talked when you were being prepped for your surgery. Just be patient, you can’t rush these things and don’t you dare decide for her either.” 

“When did you become the boss of me?” he scoffs from the bed, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling, “I just want what’s best for them.” 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

His twin stands up from his seat upon hearing the knock, thinking it’s probably the doctor or you. Before he could unlock the door however, he glances back at his brother over his shoulder, “Stop moping and just be there for them whether you end up with her or not.” 

Atsumu watches the hospital door slide open and his heart swells at the sight of you and Atsuhiko and he instantly wants to reach out when he notices the little boy’s lower lip quivering as he peers into the room. As the little boy’s gaze lands on Atsumu, the little boy rushes forward frantically. 

“Daddy!” he cries out, throwing himself onto Atsumu’s body as soon as he gets near enough. Atsumu couldn’t even bring himself to complain of the pain from the impact due to the sight of his son’s distress, reaching out to run his fingers into the little boy’s hair, “You okay now? You scared me, daddy! You fell and you wouldn’t wake up! I tried waking you up but you wouldn’t!” 

He tries his best to soothe the little boy who was clinging onto him from the side of his bed but Atsumu couldn’t contain the excitement he felt upon hearing Atsuhiko address him as his father over and over. He realizes that he probably wouldn’t ever get used to it but he wouldn’t mind hearing it all the time. “Daddy is doing much better. I’m sorry for scaring you, buddy.” 

“Good, daddy. You and Hiro should get better so we can start playing together,” he nods his head happily, his mood shifting from his gloomy one upon hearing his father was okay. The little boy scrunches up his features into a look of distaste as he straightens himself up to stand, folding his tiny arms across his chest, “Daddy, the mean looking lady came again! She was yelling at mommy and saying mean things! Uncle Bo helped and I wanna help too but mommy said kicking someone isn’t nice.” 

Atsumu turns to look over at you with a raised eyebrow as Atsuhiko finishes his explanation and you simply shook your head. Giving Osamu a small smile which he returns before leaving the room for the three of you. You turn your gaze back at the man who was waiting patiently for you to answer as you slide the door shut behind you, letting out a tired sigh. “That woman is not worth our time to discuss further, I’m taking legal actions though. How you ended up dating someone like her is beyond me.” 

“She didn’t do anything to Hiko or you?” he asks, worry laced in his voice as Atsuhiko slowly crawls into the bed and snuggles himself into his father’s side. Atsumu notices you about to reprimand the little boy which he simply shakes his head towards your direction, lowering his head to press a kiss to the top of the little boy’s head. 

“She couldn’t even if she tried,” you let out a snort as you approached the bed. He extends his arm out, his hand reaching for yours which you gladly take with your own and giving it a gentle squeeze, “You feeling okay?” 

He nods, “A little sore but I guess that’s to be expected. How’s Hiro? Should you be leaving him on his own?” 

“He’s doing fine, sleeping and our moms are busy bonding in his room, they said they’ll keep an eye on him,” you reassure him, “Plus this little one over here has been pestering me all day to check up on you.” 

He feels his shoulder relax and a sigh of relief escapes his lips, lacing your fingers together with his as he lifts his gaze from Atsuhiko to look up at you, “I’m glad to hear that.” 

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing fine,” you counter as the corners of your mouth tug down to a frown, “You gave us quite a scare, you know. We thought something had gone wrong with your surgery that caused you to collapse, turns out you were just being the stubborn idiot that you are. You really haven’t changed one bit.” 

He places his other hand on his chest, feigning a hurt expression as he juts his lower lip to a pout to gain some sympathy from you which you simply responded with a shake of your head. The pad of thumb brushes against your skin and he lets out a defeated sigh, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare either of you. I just wanted to see Atsuhiro.” 

“I understand,” you nod as you finally take a seat on the edge of his bed, watching Atsuhiko listening intently to the two of you, his brows furrowed as if he was trying his best to comprehend the conversation. “Just don’t do it again.” 

“I promise,” he nods, flashing you a cheeky grin which you just roll your eyes at. 

Atsuhiko interrupts the conversation by tilting his head to look up at his father as he remembers the task his Uncle Bo had given him when he had asked a particular question after encountering the mean looking lady moments ago before begging you to visit Atsumu. “Hey, daddy?” 

“Yeah buddy?” Atsumu asks, his heart swelling with pride upon hearing the word daddy once more, shifting his attention back to the little boy snuggled comfortably against his side. 

“What does bitch mean?”