#i only go there to do crimes against house dres

[callsigns-haze]

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 4

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: This is the fourth post to my new series so please be nice! I'm going to try to make this into a series so please show this story a bit of love and reblog!

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use.

Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3

"Come on, Justin, they're not THAT bad," you say as the two of you walk on the icy footpaths back home from the fancy, uniformed, private school the two of you attend together. As always on the way back, you always discuss the rude people in your classes and the backstabbing ones that one second are nice and the other they hate your guts and in the classes you attend that happened on a day to day basis.

"Did you see the way Paris stared you down once she saw that you earned full marks and not like her losing only six," he says, readjusting his bag strap as it slowly slipped off his shoulder. He was right, Paris hated your guts ever since the two of you started the first year, she saw you as a competition, a threat but you didn't care, not about her opinion anyway. "Come on, I'm not going to think about Paris anymore! It's Christmas break, and she's the last thing on my mind!" You exclaim as you rub your mitten covered hands together to cause some warming friction.

"Yeah, two weeks with my dad home," he groans. Justin and his father didn't share the best kind of relationship. His dad was always working abroad but wanted his two sons to be top notch, at school, sports and in life. In his father's words, 'he didn't want failures', which you thought was out of line. His dad and Tom were quite great friends, though he did see how sometimes Mr. Cadence was out of hand.

"You can always come over to my place, from time to time," you suggest to Justin, knowing that he'll show up at your window late at night anyway. He needed an escape from his family life, from reality and with you he had that. You never judged him or winced in disgust but understood him, listened to him and let him express himself. "You know I'll be there." "Yeah, I do. But my pop's or mam don't mind you around so you're welcome any time. Not only through my window."

You adjusted to Tom and Sarah, they were your true family. Your mother and father figure, a while back they adopted you and you became a Kazansky, you were part of the family and they were your parents. The people you need in your life and the support you'll always will need. They were your home. Your feeling of safety.

"I'll think about it, just give me time and we'll see each other. Even if it's on your roof." He says laughing as you two make it to your house gates. It was a big house, a milky white colour with old tangled vines wrapping up the edges' gripping onto the building. It wasn't a big walk from the gates to the door but I did have a quite wide driveway with a fountain in the central like some sort of roundabout. "Hey, when are your parents home?" Justin asks as you lean against the metal cool bars that prickle through your jacket. "Well since today was a half day so in around five to seven hours, why though?" You asks as the you push the gate open walking in and Justin is right on your heals.

"Well I have till the normal time we get home and since your parents aren't home how about we leave our things here and head to the pier." He suggests as you knock on the door and wait till one of the maids opens it. It was a good idea and it's not like Tom or Sarah would mind since ideally you should be at school. "Yeah let's do it."

---------

'Y/N, whenever you are ready, brush down your dress and adjust your shoe strap,' the commander's voice echoed through the earpiece. You and the whole dagger crew were currently on a night long undercover mission. For the big mission, you need an intel, someone who could lead you in, someone who could be the distraction in the operation for you to get through.

You make your way to the top of the stairs and slowly drag your feet along the red silky carpet. You make your way to a dim lighted corner and bend over to adjust your shoe and then smoothen out your dress. That's the signal for Jake, Bradley and Natasha to meet you upstairs in room 13. The four of you would make your way to the door but sadly the bodyguards there will have to let you pass. They're big and stubborn, not the kind of people you like to mess with but you need an intel and a cover-up so that's the only true reason for the group being here.

The three make their way up the stairs and meet you at the top. You all shared a light look of approval and you make your way to the guarded door, for your grand finale. Every time you have the cocky, slick, daring and mischievous kind of women act and each time it works but this time around it has to be so good that they let you pass, so good that they believe you. You walk up to the door and where about to open it like a normal room but they quickly block you and ask. "Who are you ma'am?" Now time for the act, your precious little act.

"First of all, how dare you be thick enough in the head to not know and on the other hand, try and grab my wrist again and my people behind me will blow your dick off in milliseconds," no hesitation came with that. You stood your ground and were not going to give in even though the man's, big bod and look that he gave you made you kind of want to cave in and hide but you couldn't. He looked you up and down and asked you one more question.

"Ma'am, why are you here?" This time more sternly, like a demand, that if you didn't answer it would be the end of you. Like the wrong answer would lead to a death sentence. And you don't even react, not on the outside at least. You just scoff. It leaves the three others behind you in quite a shock. Normal people would run away if they were in this situation but you just didn't care and stood your ground. "I'm here for a 'angels whiskey'." He looks at you one more time and opens the door. So easy to convince a man to your way of thinking if he doesn't know the consequences.

All four of you enter and the for closes behind you. There is two more bodyguards in the room bot on either side of the door, the only entrance and exit in the room. You were cornered but it was all part of the plan. You had to get out but just had to wait until it unfolded and you gain their trust. "Well, well , well, who have I got here."

And that's the man you needed. His tall, slim but muscular body leaned back in the black leather chair with his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. He had black hair and a rather distinguished set of cheekbones and nose. He had very dark brown eyes that would be slightly covered with his long hair if it wasn't for the jell slick back. His muscles lightly flexed through the white button up shirt with the top three buttons undone and the black, open widely suit jacket.

"What a beautiful scene I have standing right in front of me," he smirks in his chair, getting up slowly as he places the glass down. He walks over to his cabinet that has a dagger on top of it. He picks up the cool, metal carved blade and twirls it through his fingers. "Well my beauty never fails," you smirk back as you watch a black lose strand of his hair fall out of the back of his slick.

"And your beauty is simply a disguise of a devil and since you brought…protection, that means you brought me a problem," he says tilting the blade in your direction, swiping it through his fingers and looks for your response. "I'm not here as 'trouble', Tá mé anseo le haghaidh roinnt fuisce aingeal mo sean chompánach." (I'm here for some angel whiskey my old companion.)

He looks you up and down and then inspects Jake, Natasha and Bradley, each one by one, his gaze seconds later lays upon his guards as he orders. "Leave us and don't dare to listen, you well know what happened to Maxance when he couldn't keep information to himself."

"Is bagairt mhór é teacht anseo le daoine eile (It's a big threat to come here with other people), cobra." He had a point it is a threat and unsafe but they were part of the mission force and you trusted the daggers a lot. "Tá muinín agam astu.(I trust them)" You did trust every one of them, and they've never failed you in any kind of way. The daggers have come close to you over the weeks, but all that matters is if Justin will reveal information in front of them.

"Cibé rud a deir tú (Whatever you say), Cobra." The smirk never lost his face as he heard the lock on the bike and finally sighs like if someone had loosened a woman's corset in the past history. He looks at you and smiles. The smile of a life long companion is flashed and you smile back. "Venom, long time no see," you say, no act in your voice, just your pure, true self with no lie or no cover.

"Well Cobra, you did leave for the France, not show a sign of life and only pop back when you were in trouble, so it's hard to keep in touch with you," sarcasm filled the room after the words left Venom's mouth. It was a heavy silence while the eye contact between you and Justin never breaks and you've had enough of it all. "And again I need you."

"Cobra, I told you I'm not doing you anymore favours." It was right, he wasn't gonna anymore. Many times you've pushed him over the edge so expecting his forgiveness is impossible. "It's not a favour for me. It's for the mission force." Justin and you have known each other for many years now, his dad works, not in favour of the mission force. He just doesn't like the agency since they interfere with his business and somehow Justin for many years now has hidden his mission force identity from his father for many years.

"Y/-" "I know but please. Déan é don fhoireann agus ní mise le do thoil (Do it for the team and not me please)." The use of Irish in your conversation was a way the two of you have communicated for a very long time. A lot of people would wonder, why Irish? Why does that barely use language over another? But it all made sense, if you know the backstory. Justin's father drank a bit, alcohol's from all over the world especially, whiskey. The most common, ' the pure Irish whiskey'. Justin didn't have a good home but the smell and aroma from the alcoholic drinks were so familiar to him he could identify how it was brewed or kept. And ever since then Irish was the two of yours code.

"Okay what do you need?" He was agreeing but didn't know what. Even though he didn't say he had agreed, allowing you to continue was his kind of way of saying it. You look back at Jake and the rest and Jake gives you a reassuring nod. "I need an intel about so I can go and finish him for good."

"Now cobra, that's a big ask," he wanders to his whiskey cabinet. It's filled with many size bottles, many shades. Each a different flavor, a different story to tell. He takes out a small bottle and a glass. It's one of those tiny bottles that you can get in a hotel or airport, the ones that go down in a gulp. He quickly cracks the bottle open and puts the glass back as if it was useless and hands the bottle to you. "Drink." It was like an order that you've yet to follow.

"You know I don't drink," you haven't drank in years and this is not going to change it, you weren't going to mess with something that'll ruin you. "Ah, come on Cobra do it for a friend, you can trust me," he stares you down. He wasn't going to budge unless you drink it but you truly didn't want to but you had to.

You feel the bitter liquid flow down your throat as you let out groan. Whiskey always disgusted you, it just wasn't your style but this one was different. Such a salty, sweet sensation on your tongue as the remains swirled in your mouth.

"You know if I do you a favor, there's a big payment in return." It's true. You knew if you made this deal with Justin it would cost you, it was written in your eyes. I mean, this man won't give you any favor if he doesn't receive anything in regards but you had to do what you had to do. "And what do you do called wish for?"

"I wish for my father to be put down in a grave along with my stepmother hung till her death, and perhaps my brother in rehab and therapy from this shitty mess." He wasn't serious about this being the favor you owed him but those three things were his dreams. You knew they were, you've heard his plan millions of times in the past.

"I could do the first two and the third one I'm not so sure about." It was a joke but not really, you could do all those things in minutes if you truly wanted and everyone in the room knew that. "I'll help you to bring down . You'll get your identification papers tomorrow. Bring the blonde, green eyed, he'll go undercover with you but our deal papers will arrive once you're back…"

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[defectivegembrain]

Kragenhome is weird because who the fuck would voluntarily live in Kragenmoor

[rnelodyy]

c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.

[friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn]

Here it is luv!

I'm an Asian who uses she/they pronouns and an Aquarius and INTJ. My sexuality is bi demiromantic. I'm 5'0 with tan skin, black hair, brown eyes and glasses.I'm bilingual. People say I look intimidating and unapproachable since I don't smile or talk much around strangers but I try my best to be polite and nice.I'm very introverted and shy. I'll need to warm up to people but when I do, I will surprisingly be energetic.

I consider myself a fair, open minded and laid back person. I like to seek out my friends' company when bored. I either ask them to do something wholesome or something they are afraid of with me. I'm down to do anything with my friends. I'm hardworking if its something that interests me. I'm very creative but can't seem to make my ideas into reality. If I'm not good at something, I tend to put it on hold until I get motivated again. I'm kind of a pacifist but I will fight if pushed too far or my loved ones are endangered.

My friends describe my  sense of humor as dark and cursed. I can be mischievous and chaotic but still reliable and smart.My hobbies are baking,gaming,art, true crime and supernatural stuff. I express my love with gifts and quality time more than physical affection but I'm ok with PDA. I'm gonna be emotionally unavailable at 1st. My fav kind of date is a picnic.A negative trait of mine would be barely taking initiative at 1st due to fear of rejection. My ideal type is someone who I can trust with my life,someone I've known for a long time, very respectful of my boundaries and protective. Like I said in my previous ask- I'm a Hades kid

Okay, this is going to be a long one, so get comfortable lol

You’ve been at Camp Half-Blood since you were six, and mostly stayed in a room in the Big House: the Hermes kids were too afraid of you to have you in their Cabin.

For a long time, it was expected that you’d be the one to fulfil the prophecy, but turns out you were just a few months younger than Percy.

You and Annabeth are pretty close, because the two of you were kind of the only ones around the same age for a long time.

In fact, you were probably the one to tell her and Luke that Thalia's spirit was still in the tree, being able to sense her with your powers.

As a child of Hades, you totally wield one of those Stygian iron swords.

So now that we have established a bit of background, let’s get to how the series progresses with you there.

When Percy is claimed, you kinda take him under your wing. The two of you bond over being kids of one of the Big Three, and it doesn’t take long to become friends.

You were very much against letting Percy, an inexperienced son of Poseidon, go on a quest already. He attracts every monster in a five mile radius and there’s no way he’s already had enough practice to be able to take them all. Also, he’s literally 12.

But there isn’t much that can be done about that, so you sit back and anxiously wait for him, Grover, and Annabeth to return.

The fact that Annabeth is there with him, is at least some consolation. She’s smart enough to keep the three of them alive.

While you stay at camp, you start getting a weird sense every night, like a constant chill running down your spine. You can tell there's some dark entity in the camp, but also... It's not really there?

You’ve felt it before, but never as strong as this. Naturally, your curiosity urges you to find out what it is. It could be a threat, after all.

But as you sneak through the shadows of the camp, dodging harpies along the way, you can feel the darkness start to fade. The night seems a little brighter now, and you are none the wiser as to what that presence was.

You feel it almost every night, but it fades away whenever you go looking for it.

Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.

You figure it out by accident, when you suddenly sense it while you’re dreaming.

It is so much stronger now.

That’s when it all clicks together: someone in this camp is being haunted by some dark entity in their dreams.

We know children of Hades can walk in others’ dreams, but it takes time to figure this out.

You don’t even know whose dream you need to invade.

So during the day, you start paying close attention to see if anyone looks more tired than usual.

Clarissa looks tired, but she was up teaching a spear-fighting class all day yesterday, so that’s not surprising.

Luke doesn’t look much better, but he’s the head of Cabin 11 and he’s probably stressed about Annabeth being on her first quest, so no surprises there either.

There’s Chiron, but he’s running a camp full of teenage kids with strange powers. If anyone’s allowed to be tired, it would be him.

So your search mainly remains fruitless.

You do get better at dreamwalking: it’s surprisingly easy once you get the hang of it.

When you feel the presence again while you’re asleep, you let yourself be pulled towards its energy. The closer you get, the more you get the feeling you’re about to fall.

Whatever entity this is, it’s ancient.

In the end, you don’t get to see it, but you hear a familiar voice whisper a name.

Kronos.

You try to warn Chiron and Mr. D, but they both pretty much dismiss your concerns. They say they’ll look into it, but you have a feeling it’s only to get you to go back to bed.

Everyone is surprised about Luke’s betrayal, but you least of all. You already knew someone was having very, very dark dreams. You just didn’t know they were having them voluntarily.

Chiron apologises to you for not listening, but ultimately, you both know it wouldn’t have mattered.

And that’s it for Lightning Thief! Let’s move on now.

Because children of Hades kan pick up on spirits, you’re the first person to know that Thalia’s tree is poisoned, because you can feel her spirit fading.

You once again stay back from the quest because, you know, child of Hades on the big open sea just isn’t a stellar idea. You doubt Poseidon is going to do anything that might risk Percy’s life, but there’s no need to take risks.

But it’s not like you’re not doing anything. The barrier is gone, and monsters can freely come and go as they please. All those demigods in one place… Camp Half-Blood had practically become a beacon.

You take a lot of night shifts on guard duty, as monsters -at least the more intelligent ones- turn around the second they see your sword.

At the same time, Chiron teaches you how you can use your powers to keep Thalia’s spirit from fading as long as possible.

And, whenever you manage to get some sleep, you use your dreams to try and locate your friends and see if they’re doing alright.

All in all, it’s a very tiring time.

Somehow, despite having taken an airplane home, everyone comes home safely.

And then the Golden Fleece resurrects Thalia.

You’re there when it happens, having resigned yourself to watching over her tree to see if it’s working (and to catch up with Annabeth, who tells you and Thalia all about her quest).

Obviously, you mercilessly tease her about Percy. That’s what friends do lol.

But then you suddenly feel a spike in Thalia’s life force.

And before you know it, she’s actually there. In the flesh.

And then there’s three kids of the Big Three.

But little do you know, things are about to get a hell of a lot more chaotic.

That one was a little shorter, but now comes the Titan’s Curse, and with that… well, you know who makes his entrance now ;)

You join Percy, Thalia, and Annabeth when they go to Westover Hall. You can’t explain it, but you have a feeling you need to be there.

Which means you get to meet Sally Jackson, who practically adopts you the way she’s already adopted Annabeth and Thalia.

Speaking of Thalia, you and her have become pretty close since she came back to life. Thalia seems like she’d enjoy true crime and she’s probably interested in the supernatural as well, so you bond over that.

You, Thalia, and Annabeth have basically become a chaotic trio. Sparring matches with the three of you are a frequent occurrence.

But anyway. At Westover Hall, you’re the one who uses the Mist to manipulate the teacher. You’ve been training to use it ever since you first came to camp, and even though Thalia is skilled with it already, all of you agree that it’s better to be safe than sorry.

While you’re at the party, Grover pulls you aside and quietly tells you that the aura of the kids he saw, is scarily similar to yours.

He asks if there’s a chance Hades had any other kids after you, but you doubt it. Breaking the agreement once is tricky, doing it twice? Hades is smarter than that.

Of course that’s when shit hits the fan.

During the battle by the cliffs, you mostly focus on keeping the two kids you came here for safe. Maybe Grover was right about them being related to you.

And then shit somehow manages to hit the fan even harder, because the Hunters of Artemis just had to interfere and chase the Manticore off the cliff -and Annabeth with it.

None of you know what to do, then. You, Thalia, and Percy are all devastated and full of guilt. Kids of the Big Three, and none of you were able to save her -your best friend, the girl Thalia practically raised, the girl Percy loves.

You’re grateful for the Hunters giving you shelter for the time being. Artemis herself offers both you and Thalia a position in the hunt, but you both decline. You’re a child of the god of the Underworld: you understand better than anyone that death is a vital part of the natural order.

Bianca Di Angelo, however, immediately says yes. Both you and Nico are hurt by her decision; by now you’re fairly certain the Do Angelo’s are your siblings, and for Bianca to ditch both of you so quickly, without even getting to know you… well, it stings.

You, Thalia, Percy, and Nico return to Camp with the Hunters, while Artemis goes her own way. The atmosphere at camp is horribly depressing.

Everyone at least knew Annabeth, and most people cared about her, or even loved her.

When Grover, Zoe Nightshade, Bianca, and Thalia embark on their quest, you are up all night. That’s how you catch Percy sneaking off after him.

You tell him to take you along, and he agrees before you can even try and convince him.

It would be a good time, you know, if you weren’t trying to find a missing goddess and your presumed dead best friend.

Percy explains his dream to you, about Annabeth being forced to take the weight of the sky. You try your best to reassure him by saying that if anyone can take it, it’s Annabeth.

When the two of you are caught, you have a shouting match with Zoe. She claims you’re endangering the mission; you accuse her of not giving a shit about Annabeth, and saying that Artemis would be disappointed to be the focus of this quest when there was a young woman who needed help.

It’s a mess, but Percy and Thalia have your back. Bianca admits that she, too, believes that Artemis would want them to rescue Annabeth first. Even Grover, who honestly just wants to stay as far away from the argument as possible, quietly agrees.

Apollo helps you guys get to the Junkyard of the Gods…

But Bianca is not lost in a land without rain, like she would normally be.

Because you are still the most powerful child of Hades present.

So when Talos activates? You create a fissure in the ground with your sword, one so broad and deep that even Talos can’t cross it.

Not without falling in and breaking down for once and for all.

When you get to Mount Othrys, tensions are at an all time high. Thalia, Percy, and you are all anxious to find Annabeth, but also dreading the prospect of having to see Luke again.

Zoe gets poisoned, but rather than Percy, you’re the one who takes the weight of the sky from Artemis so she can fight Atlas and make him take your place again.

It’s just in time to see Luke go ever the edge of a cliff. You can feel the moment his body hits the ground, but you don’t feel him die.

When the Olympians suggest to kill Percy to keep him from becoming the next child of the prophecy, after Thalia accepts Artemis’ offer, you’re the first to rush to his defence.

“What are you going to do, kill all of us? First Perce, then me, and eventually Nico?”

Luckily, Artemis stands in your corner as well, and she takes no shit from her fellow Olympians.

Important to note: since Bianca is alive and with the Hunters, Nico never runs away from Camp…

I feel like these are only getting longer and longer lol. Onto the Battle of the Labyrinth.

So obviously things go very different: Nico is still at Camp Half-Blood, and is quickly progressing in skill under your training.

The two of you have become close, especially now that Bianca is away with the Hunters -though she frequently writes to you both.

Still, Nico desires answers for why he can’t remember anything from the past.

He strays into the Underworld with unnerving ease, and he even manages shadow travel, something even you aren’t capable of yet. You can’t help but be a little jealous.

So while Nico is off finding his answers, you perfect your sword-fighting skills. It doesn’t take long before you meet Quintus, but you don’t like him. Granted, you don’t instantly like people most of the time, but something about the guy feels off.

You already know about the entrance to the Labyrinth: you worked with Clarisse and Annabeth to try and figure out how Luke and the Titan Army might use this to their advantage.

Naturally, when Annabeth embarks on her quest, she asks you along: even your geokinetic abilities aren’t fully able to find a way through the Labyrinth, but you at least can sense where exits and entrances are.

The Labyrinth makes you feel like you’re walking on the edge of a knife: one wrong step and you’ll spiral into madness forever.

You can sense the madness around you: of the man who created it, of those who perished here.

Certain parts are so full of spirits that walking through them makes you feel like you’re suffocating.

You don’t make a pitstop at the Triple G Ranch because there is nothing there for you to find.

Instead, you go straight to Hephaestus’ workshop.

Which leads to the incident with the volcano.

After Percy’s apparent death, you’re the one who leads everyone back to Camp.

That’s when Nico contacts you through a dream, asking for help. The contact is cut off before you can ask what’s wrong, but you caught a glimpse of his environment.

You head straight back to the Labyrinth, and focus on your powers like you never have before. You can feel your half-brother’s spirit if you try hard enough, and it leads to Antaeus’ arena.

That’s where you run into Nico -and Luke and his forces. Nico, not hardened by the loss of Bianca, still had the innocence to trust Luke. Until, you know, he got captured.

You put up a fight, but you’ve been wandering the Labyrinth for days with little to no rest while drawing on a great deal of your powers.

You’re embarrassed by how quickly they capture you to.

But thankfully, most of the Titan Army is none too clever. They let you rest and keep you fed, in the hope that you might change your mind and join their side.

So when you’re called upon to fight and see Percy in the arena… we’ll, Antaeus never stood a chance. You make your escape with Percy, Nico, Annabeth, ands mortal girl named Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

You yell at Percy for, like, 20 minutes straight for making you think he was dead.

When you meet Daedalus, everything makes sense. Of course Daedalus and Quintus are the same person.

You all arrive just in time to see Kronos rise, and from there it’s just a mad dash back to Camp to warm them of what’s coming.

Well. With one small interruption when you discover Pan’s last resting place.

You can’t explain it, but you feel as if Pan has a connection to you. Maybe it has something to do with the wilderness dying. Maybe it’s just because death is a vital part of life.

Whatever the case, it feels as if he’s trying to tell you something.

You arrive back at Camp just before all hell breaks loose.

Things seem to go your way at first, the monsters slowed by the narrow entrance, and with Daedalus, Briares, and Mrs. O’Leary on your side.

But then there’s Kampê.

Grover manages to summon panic and send the monsters scrambling back to the Labyrinth, but they’ll come back soon enough.

That’s when Daedalus asks you to release his spirit, as it will destroy the Labyrinth and everything in it.

So you do.

You’ve never actually set a spirit free, but it’s not hard.

And when you do, you become the Ghost Ruler.

Nevertheless, despite winning the battle, the losses are devastating. You can feel dead all around you…

… but you also feel life.

This was what Pan was trying to tell you. Children of Hades do not just sense death, but also the absence of it.

You start to wonder if it might be possible for you to reverse the dying process, or at least slow it down. After all, you also kept Thalia’s spirit from fading when her tree was poisoned.

There is power over life in the power over death.

Alright, onto the grand finale!

You know the battle is approaching fast, so you spent almost the entire year in the Underworld, perfecting your powers.

Nico is with you, trying to force some answers out of your dad.

You try to convince Hades to fight in the upcoming war, but he’s stubborn over how the Olympians rejected him, despite him being one of the most powerful gods. He reminds you that you and Nico don’t even have a cabin at camp.

And for a moment, you understand his bitterness, and with it, you understand what drove Luke and so many others to this.

But just because you don’t have your own cabin, doesn’t mean you don’t have a place at camp.

You return to camp not long after Annabeth sends you an Iris message about the disaster on the Princess Andromeda.

You arrive just in time to learn that the gods are trying to slow down Typhon.

Unbeknownst to you, Nico low-key kidnaps Percy.

You’re just trying to keep roughly 100 stressed and scared teenagers with free access to weapons from killing each other.

When you finally all go to the Empire State Building to defend the city and Mount Olympus, you run into Percy.

“Your brother kidnapped me.”

“Why do you have an aura of invincibility?”

“Shit, is it that obvious?”

You also reunite with Bianca and Thalia when the Hunters arrive.

“Bianca, your brother kidnapped me.”

Bianca, who has taken over Thalia’s sense of humor: “Good for him.”

The battle is in full swing, and while you’re not outnumbered, you’d feel a hell of a lot better if there were some Underwordly reinforcements.

There’s the disaster on the bridge, and Annabeth getting stabbed, and then some Titan tries to convince Percy to open Pandora’s Box and release hope.

When Percy refuses, it becomes clear how this is going to end: in victory or in death.

The battles go and on, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep doing this.

But just when all hope seems lost, Hades arrives with Demeter, Persephone, Nico, and an army of undead warriors.

You are so happy you weren’t there for that awkward family gathering.

You’re with Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia when they follow Kronos and Ethan Nakamura up to Olympus.

When the statue of Hera falls, you hold it back with your powers until everyone has safely passed underneath.

The battle in the throne room is a brutal one, but then Ethan suddenly switches sides after Percy talks to him.

Of course Kronos tries to kill him for it, but you manage to stop him from forming the fissure.

Still, all of you are incapacitated: Ethan is bleeding from a bad wound, Annabeth got flung against a throne with a sickening crack, and you and Thalia could only fight for so long after days of tiring battles.

In the end, it’s Annabeth who gets through to Luke.

In the end, Luke is the hero of the prophecy.

When Percy calls the gods out on their bullshit, you can barely refrain from laughing.

The Olympians put you in charge of working with the minor deities to give them the representation they want and deserve.

At the same time, you work closely with Annabeth and Ethan on new cabins for the camp.

Honestly, life is good.

And then Percy goes missing.

I feel like I should apologise for how long this got omg. I hope you enjoy it, though, and if you ever want a Heroes of Olympus continuation, let me know!

Anyway, thank you so much for the request, I had such fun writing this <3

[crystalirises]

The Final Answer (36 Questions AU 7/13)

Seventh part.

OUR WORD

Fundy coughed, scraping the chair against the wooden floor as he put a bit of space between him and Dream, their moment gone as soon as he had realized what Dream was trying to do. He couldn't himself give in that easily. He just couldn't. He tried not to laugh as Dream nearly fell to the floor at the sudden movement. He looked down at their forgotten meal, shaking his head as he knew neither of them would bite into what was clearly rotten meat. 

He picked at the edge of his white shirt, cutting a piece of it off. He hid his scowl, preferring not to send the wrong message to Dream. He needed to stop tearing off pieces of his clothes. This was the fifth one this week. Niki and Ranboo had berated him so many times that he couldn't even count the instances anymore. He shook his head, he didn't need to think about that. 

“Sorry, I thought I had a decent food supply. Should have checked this afternoon. I think Niki told me to check but I've been so busy that I mighta sorta forgot? I don't think I have anything else and I'm sure the storm's ruined the farm. Would you look at that, I guess we’ll both starve, huh?”

“I could teleport us to our cabin. It wouldn't be too difficult. No one would have to see you and no one would have to see me. It would be the two of us... I could teleport us... j-just so we don’t starve!” Dream quickly added as those slitted, gold-flecked brown eyes snapped towards him. Fundy's mouth was pressed into a grim line, his fingers gripping his shirt. 

Dream sat up on the chair, averting his gaze from his husband’s scrutiny. He didn't want Fundy to think he was trying to lure him back... although maybe he should've thought about that option. He needed Fundy to trust him. Besides, it'll be one night... in their cabin... the cabin where they used to live together. He swallowed down his nervousness, hoping Fundy couldn't hear it in his tone, “I’ve been maintaining the food supply in case you… I assumed you might... I hoped you... I... or you know we could starve, that’s a good idea too.”

“…Have you been staying in our cabin?”

“You still think of it as ours?”

“Dre― You know what I mean.”

Dream forced down his amused laughter, pushing himself out of his chair as he began to take their unfinished meal from the table. 

“Sapnap and George are currently mad at me, so I’ve been staying at our cabin. I also thought you might come back if I waited long enough…” He whispered, mostly to himself.

“I can hear you, there’s nothing you can say that I wouldn’t know about.” Fundy’s ear twitched at the top of his head, watching as Dream disappeared shortly into the kitchen. Did he want to go back to their cabin? He sighed, his ears pressing against his head. Was it a trap? It definitely felt like one. 

“And… I can’t blame George and Sapnap, they have every right to be mad after that little stunt you pulled.” Fundy tilted his head to the side, sighing as he thought of how George and Sapnap might have reacted.

“I said that in the heat of the moment.”

“Did you also tell them or am I the first person you’re apologizing to?” Fundy nodded to himself, Dream’s silence was answer enough. “You fucked up.”

“…I know.”

“I’ll go back to the cabin with you, if you promise me one thing.” Fundy leaned back, balancing himself on the back legs of the chair. 

“We’re only going there to eat. Nothing else, ya? It doesn’t mean anything.” Fundy pointed an accusatory finger at where he thought Dream, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, albeit half-heartedly.

“We’re only going back to the cabin so we don’t starve, okay.” Dream emerged from the kitchen, glancing at the chair that Fundy sat on. He pursed his lips together. 

The cabin was… a bit of a mess, though not as horrible as the one they were currently in. He hasn’t had the time to clean. He began to pull at the air, a small holographic panel appearing at his fingertips. Admin magic. It did come in handy at times. As he searched for the coordinates, he spared a glance towards the fox hybrid, “Are we taking the bat with us?”

“Wha― Yes, we’re taking Batry with us! I’m not going to leave them here in the dark… alone… abandoned… unwanted…” Fundy kept his voice low at the last two words, knowing that Dream wouldn’t hear him. He wrapped his around his chest, leaning further against the chair. 

One night. At their cabin. Oh, Niki and Ranboo would kill him if they knew. He hoped everyone was asleep or busy doing whatever it is they did in New L’Manburg these days. 

“Wait, hold on. I have to grab something before we―”

Fundy let out a small yelp, the echo of wood splintering as one of the back legs of the chair collapsed into itself. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable crash. It didn’t come. He slowly opened his eyes, and nearly fainted out of embarrassment. 

Dream had caught him, one arm wrapped behind his back as a hand held on tightly to the collar of his shirt. An awkward silence ensued, both of them floundering for words. Fundy was flustered, his words tangling into an incoherent mess. 

“Eh… Uh… Wha… Shit… EHHHH??!!”

“You really fell for me there, huh?”

“Shut up, Dream.” Dream helped him to his feet, letting go as soon as Fundy had his feet firmly on the ground. Fundy looked up, seeing the smirk on his ex-husband’s face. 

“That was the chair’s fault, Dream.” Fundy hid his face behind his hands, heat pooling into his cheeks at the thought of… why the fuck did that chair have to break?!!

“Or it could be fate.”

“No. No. No. No. No.” Fundy held up a hand, backing away from Dream. He didn’t believe in fate. That would be stupid of him. 

“That was an accident. It’s not my fault you have fast reflexes.” Fundy internally groaned. It just had to happen right when Dream was with him, huh? It couldn’t have happened on any other day, could it?!

“Would you rather I let you fall to the ground?” Dream quirked a brow, watching as the fox hybrid fumbled for a response. Dream didn’t quite know what had happened, one moment he was looking up from the control panel, suddenly he was leaping across the room as he heard the sound of wood cracking through the air. Pure instinct. 

“You could just thank me…” Dream knew it was a mistake the moment the words came out of his mouth. He looked down at the fox hybrid, an internal panic circling through his mind. He was going to get kicked out for that.

Fundy gave him a pointed look before leaving the dining room.

“Or not…” Dream sighed, watching the tip of Fundy’s tail disappear down the hallway. Too soon. Shouldn’t have made that joke. He nodded to himself, as if taking note of that. 

“Should not have said that, Dream.” Dream ran a hand through his hair, a few bits of sand falling past his fingertips. He didn’t get most of them out… oops. Fundy wouldn’t kill him for spreading sand in his dining room, right?

Batry squeaked, flapping their wings as they settled on the crook of Dream’s shoulder, nuzzling his neck.

“He would, huh?” He petted the bat’s head, booping their little nose as they both waited for Fundy to come back. 

“What do you think, Batry? Think I still got a chance here?”

Batry didn’t say anything, merely nuzzling further into the crook of Dream’s neck. So much for support. Dream sighed, guess he’d just have to see where this night would lead to. He reached to comb a hand through his hair, jolting as he realized he’d left his mask in Fundy’s room. Batry squeaked in indignation as Dream bolted out of the dining room, his hurried footsteps loud against the creaky steps of the stairs.

Fundy looked up from the enderchest, his ears pricking up as he heard the thump of footsteps in the hall. For some reason, he waited for the slam of the front door… the all-consuming silence of an empty house… it didn’t come. He could hear the muffled steps from above as, he assumed, Dream walked around. He shook his head, turning his attention back to scouring through his mess of stuff. His fingers grazed the familiar cool handle of a trident… the trident Dream had given him for their anniversary…

He placed the item into his inventory, just in case. He headed back into the hall just as Dream came back down the stairs, mask in hand. They stared at each other, as if they had both caught the other doing a heinous crime. Fundy scratched the back of his arm, wondering if Dream could see his thoughts through his eyes. Batry flew into the hall, setting themselves on Fundy’s shoulder as they gazed at the two of them with curious black eyes. Dream broke the silence first, “I just went to get my mask.”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation.” Dream winced at the quick reply. Of course, there was nothing weird about what he’d done. Why would he think otherwise? Dream leapt off the last step of the stairs, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. 

He willed the holographic panel into existence, typing in the coordinates as fast as he could. And if his fingers were trembling, well, Fundy didn’t say anything about it. 

“Did you get what you were looking for? What was it?”

“Ya, I did. Don’t worry about it.” Fundy stepped closer to the man, his eyes narrowing as a familiar code of numbers appeared on the command box. 

“Back… to the cabin we go.”

“Yeah… it’s been lonely since you left.”

“Well, I am the life of the party so I can see why.” The joke came out dryly, an attempt at humor. Fundy tried not to wince as Dream flinched. 

“Ya, just bring us to the cabin. It better not be a mess in there.”

“I make no promises.” Dream entered the code, the air shifting around them as the walls began to melt. Fundy shuddered, pressing closer to Dream as the world around them disintegrated and rearranged itself. Reality fell away, morphing into a familiar room of a house Fundy never thought he’d ever come back to.

“Oh… nothing’s changed.”

Their living room looked just as he had left. The pictures that Dream insisted to place on the walls were the same, those creepy eyes staring down at them in judgment. The flowers he had placed in a vase on the middle of the coffee table were wilted, but that was to be expected. The house still smelled the same, a hint of lime and orange entangled into the air. It felt as if he had never even left.

“I tried not to… change anything. I couldn’t really bring myself to…” Dream walked towards the switch, a flood of iridescent blue light illuminating the room. Dream remembered the day Fundy had installed the redstone for the place, shushing Dream away from the cabin as if he didn’t trust him with something as complex as redstone. He felt a small smile tug at the edges of his lips as he watched his husband look through the space they once shared, “Did… anything change? What’s your verdict?”

“Aside from the flowers, nothing’s changed.” Fundy settled onto the couch, nearly letting out a contented sigh as he felt the soft cushions. The coach he had back in Drywaters was rough and smelt of spilt coffee. He really should steal someone else’s couch at some point. He curled up into the couch, hearing Dream walk away as the sound of a cutlery filled the air. Good. He didn’t really want to cook anything. He placed his head on the couch’s arm, his eyes closing as he let himself reminisce.

Dream wandered into the kitchen, clutching the mask to his chest as he thought of what he could make. What could make this night go a little bit right? He froze, their first date. He rushed to the food supply, hoping that he had the ingredients for filet mignon steak and roasted duck. Though… whether he knew how to cook them was the question here. He just hoped that he didn’t accidentally burn the kitchen down… because that would just be his luck, wouldn’t it? Well. Here’s to hoping he does a good job.

A moment later, Fundy felt a hand on his shoulder. He screeched, bolting out of the couch as he fumbled through his inventory for a sword.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! It’s just me, Fundy!”

 Fundy groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “For fuck’s sake, Dream. Don’t do that. That’s how Wilbur used to wake me up during―”

He didn’t continue that. Dream nodded stiffly, placing their meal on the table as he settled on the single chair instead. Fundy hesitantly walked over to the couch, his eyes narrowing at the choice of food Dream had chosen to cook. He was beginning to think this was an elaborate trap. “You fell asleep on the couch. I wasn’t going to wake you but you might stab in my sleep if you woke up here in the morning.”

“You would be correct.” Fundy looked up at Batry who had settled on the ceiling above them, squeaking happily at the change of scenery. Fundy looked down at the roasted duck, wondering how many hours he had been asleep for. Roasted duck does not cook itself in a minute. He spots the black edges of the duck, hiding his amusement at the way Dream somehow managed to ruin roasted duck. “Back to what we were actually doing. Ask me the next question.”

“Right. The question.” Dream wracked through his brain. They were on question nine. He took a bite of filet mignon, the edges tougher than the inner parts of the steak. “Question 9. ‘For what in your life do you feel most grateful?’” He took another bite, wincing as he felt the crunch of a part of the steak he had burnt. After a moment, he glanced back up. Fundy’s silence was… disturbing. Fundy was looking down at his dinner, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Why wasn’t he answering?

“I don’t know, Dream. Maybe… founding Drywaters? I really don’t know what to answer.” Fundy cut a piece of the roasted duck, the knife clinking against the plate. Dream didn’t press him, nodding his head as if he understood. Well maybe he did because he was there as everything Fundy cared about either died or exploded into a million pieces. “What’s your answer?” Fundy wouldn’t be surprised if Dream said something along the lines of power or his plans going right. That seemed like a reasonable answer, right?

“I’m grateful for this chance.” Dream averted his gaze as Fundy looked up from his meal, an incredulous look dancing in his eyes. Did Fundy really expect he’d answer anything else other than that? He cleared his throat. He needed this to be said, “I’m grateful that you’re giving me another chance to prove that I’m the same Dream you fell in love with.”

“The same Dream I fell in love with… okay.” Fundy stopped eating. His appetite gone. It was definitely not because Dream was shit at cooking. “If you say so.”

“Ask me the next one.”

“Question 10. ‘If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?’” It was Dream’s turn to be silent. “Dream? This should be easy for you… y-you said you didn’t have parents.”

“About that…” Dream could feel the putrid taste of his old lie on his tongue. Fundy’s eyes narrowed, his mouth opening in shock and realization. It didn’t matter then. It still didn’t matter now. “I might have lied about my previous answer―”

“YOU LIED ABOUT HAVING NO PARENTS?!” Fundy wasn’t mad, not really, no. He knew a thing or two about shitty parents, he couldn’t exactly blame the blonde if he wanted to forget that part of his life. He was… surprised, is all. “Why? Are they that horrible that you wrote yourself as an orphan? Were you trying to get sympathy points from me? No, that wouldn’t make sense you knew Techno was my uncle―”

“I lied because they didn’t really matter.”

“You lied to me about your parents… because they didn’t matter?” Fundy raised a brow, confusion clouding his mind. He disowned Wil once, sure, but he did to get Schlatt’s trust. He wasn’t sure he could ever bring himself to completely disown the man, no matter how terrible of a father he was. He couldn’t do that to Wil. Dream didn’t share the same sentiment for his parents, “…you hated them that badly?”

“My mother was busy, didn’t quite have the time to raise a child. She would be at the house for one second before bolting out the door the next.” Dream sighed, pulling his chair closer to the table. He wasn’t close to his mother, but he certainly had a better relationship with her than… “My father was… well, people would call him a demon. He even had the horns for it and everything. Hm… He was an alcoholic. A smoker. A scammer. He even had a lot of weird titles he used to name himself… Senile old man…”

Fundy blinked, surprise in his face as he realized how familiar those terms were. He looked at Dream, but saw nothing that could confirm his suspicions. There was… No way… Dream wasn’t… He let out a small croak at the back of his throat. There was no fucking way! Dream stared at him, nodding his head as if he knew what Fundy was thinking. “You’re…” Fundy leaned further into the coach. His limbs growing cold at this sudden revelation. “Oh… wow… that… must suck… I’m so sorry… Oh, fuck―”

“Yeah.” Dream placed his hands on the table, attention fixed on the edge of the wooden surface.

“I am so sorry, Dream.” Fundy pursed his lips together. “You’d probably like to change everything, huh?”

“That would be nice…” Dream sighed.

“What was it like?” Fundy paused, “Your childhood, that is.”

“When I was a little kid, like really little, like 8 or so…” Dream let himself reminisce, the hurried words stumbling past his lips, “I was playing in my father's study. A place in the house I wasn't supposed to go.”

He scoffed, moving on to Mr. Shitty Parental Unit, “My father fancied himself a merchant.” Go dad, woo…

“His study was filled with mystical products. He kept an alcohol bottle on the top of a shelf…” He winced, shivering. “…and it shattered on the ground when I slammed the door. I told my mother everything.”

Dream remembered the cold look on her face, “I told her I was so, so sorry. She told me, ‘Don't cry.’” She didn’t care about the bottle. “’When he comes home tonight, we can make everything okay.’”

He remembers the first taste of a lie on his tongue, “’This is all we have to say…’”

He remembers his father, “’We don't remember an alcohol bottle. It must've fallen off its shelf alone.’” He trembled. “’We know you loved that, we're so sad it's broken, but neither one of us was even home.’"

His father’s face was contorted in unbridled fury… “And it's our word.”

He swallowed down the taste of fear in the back of his throat, “Yes, our word against his.” His father had been disappointed, but that didn’t erase their love for him, if it could be called that. A problem child. His mother wasn’t any better, “So I hid screw-ups from my father. Made up fake awards to please my mom.”

He shook his head, his mind abuzz with memories he had forced down. “Whatever made the steak taste better. Whatever kept the waters calm.” His father was a man who lived by the coin, a stingy businessman who hungered for more than what he already had. More. More. His mother was a busy woman, absent that he could barely recall her face. From a young age, he was raised with the idea that if you wanted something, you would do anything to get it. “I was told to keep their secrets, and in turn they'd keep mine.”

The accumulation of lies he had made hung over his head, a heavy weight that threatened to fall and crush him if he wasn’t careful. “As I got older, I got dumber. I couldn't help but cross the line.” The shit he had gotten himself into, the mistakes that left scars upon his skin. He acted without thinking, assured by his own self-confidence that he never thought of the consequences. Not that his parents ever taught him any different. They praised him for it. “Three times I nearly wrecked my life. Three times I nearly came to ruin.”

It was his own fault for being weak to chase after the advice of a man and woman who knew nothing but lies, “Three times went crying to my parents, who said they'd make it go away.” His father didn’t like anything that disrupted their “perfect” life. His mother didn’t like anything that disrupted their “peaceful” life. It made him sick, knowing he played along with their schemes. He had danced to their little waltz, upon a crimson-stained floor. “Yes, this is all we had to say… ‘We never created a house in Essempy.’”

He could still see the red that stained his fingertips, “’We didn't see that boy the day he died.’”

His father had merely glanced at him as he told him what he’d done. The man gave him a sharp smile, a smile that told him not to worry… “’We haven't been on our boat in some years now, so we don't care what you found inside’.” How was he to know what his parents had done? How was he to know that they would change the whole narrative? Frame someone else for his sins? “And it's our word. Yes, our word.”

The echo of a bag of coins clinking together rang through his ears. “It's our word. Yes, our word…” His father settled matters in the way he knew best, “…against theirs. Somebody was paid to make it go away.”

Dream turned his gaze to the floor, hiding his eyes. “Everyone was paid to make the problems go away.”

It was easier that way. “Doesn't matter who gets screwed, or who is blamed, or what you need to do to clear your name.” Easier to lie. “An inconvenient truth can be easily erased. When I was like, eighteen…”

The immense joy he felt when he ran from home, the freedom he gained as he found a new place to settle. A place where no one knew who he was, a place where he could be himself. “I was living somewhere else. I developed some fun habits…” He met George and Sapnap, the first real friends he’s ever had in life. They taught him a myriad of tricks, dangerous and risky… he enjoyed every one of them. It was the thrill of irresponsibility, the adrenaline in his veins, “…put my many brain cells to work. I remember it so clearly.”

George and Sapnap had gone to look for iron, leaving him alone in the house they shared. “I was parkouring on a Tuesday night. To increase speed, I'd drink some potions…” He recalled the taste of nether wart and sugar on his tongue, the sickly-sweet stench that emitted from the bottle. It wasn’t his first, having drunk a few other potions within the day. He didn’t know why he did it. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew what might happen, “…but couldn't seem to get my mind right. I set a goal and tried to do it.”

He bit the side of his cheek, metallic iron coating the inside of his mouth. His fingers trembled against the edge of the table he didn’t know he had been gripping, “And suddenly became aware, I couldn't bring myself to stop running.” He remembers the chilling wind on his cheek, the panic that blossomed in his chest as he had kept jumping and running. He remembers reaching the top, the world slowing down as his gaze flicked up towards the starry sky, “I screamed as I fell off the edge, and as I laid there helplessly…”

He barely felt the soothing hand on his shoulder, those warm eyes – Fundy’s – that peered up into his own. “A million different thoughts came to me. I saw my parents hearing the news…” Would his parents have cared… if they did knew? “’Your beloved son died today.’ I thought about what they might say.”

He held back his pitiful tears. They probably would have said, “’Our own son, our Dream?’”

His father would laugh, incredulous and lost in a fog of alcohol, “’No, he ran far away. He's very happy now, or so we guess.’” His mother would scowl, insulted at the insinuation that own their son would…, “’He's always been so goddamned independent. Years have gone by and we still haven’t see him.’"

Or maybe… just maybe… "’Our own son, our Dream?’”

He pressed his lips together, his hands clenching into tight fists. “’You must be mistaken. You mean the boy we raised as if our own?’” Would they have denied their relations? Why admit that their own son ran away from them? That would tarnish their reputation, tarnish their perfect little stance on the world. They couldn’t have that. “’We loved him so much he felt like our child, but eventually we had to send him home’.”

He felt hot tears run down his cheek, his hands rising to block out his face, “It'd be their word. Only their word.” He felt warm and gentle arms wrap around his shaking figure, “It'd be their word. Only their word.”

He let himself be consoled for what felt like forever, “On its own.”

-------------

prev / next

[bluebird722]

Flying Over the City

Characters: John Stewart/Green Lantern, Anissa Pierce, Jennifer Pierce

Rating: K

Summary: While Metropolis is under a lockdown during the pandemic, John Stewart gives his nieces a night to remember. 

Author’s Note: Because John is an uncle, but we don’t have any scenes of them interacting. 

Disclaimer: Do I really even need to say it?

John Stewart enjoyed nights like these, when he did not have to be Green Lantern but could just be John Stewart, American, brother, uncle--the life he knew and loved. It wasn’t that he came to resent being Green Lantern, but it was nice to heat up burger patties, Spongebob macaroni and cheese, and mix frozen corn. 

“Anissa, Jennifer,” he called out as he gave himself a bigger serving of each side dish, “dinner’s ready!”

Anissa and Jennifer, who were lying on their stomachs as they worked on puzzle books, immediately jumped to their feet and ran to the kitchen, squealing and grinning. “No running,” he reminded them of their mother’s rule, especially when with a babysitter. 

“Thank you, Uncle John,” the sisters chorused after they washed their hands really good and pulled themselves into their chairs to the table that Jennifer helped set. 

“You’re very welcome.” John cut the cheeseburger--the one with the weird vegan cheese that the girls enjoyed--in half. “All right. Let’s eat.”

Anissa took a big bite of her cheeseburger half and sipped from her glass of milk without slurping. “I hate this lockdown,” she grumbled. “I miss going to school, and it’s so hard doing school on the computer.”

“Yeah,” Jennifer agreed. “We can’t even have playdates with our friends anymore! We tried doing that--what’s it called--”

“Zoom,” Anissa reminded her. 

“Yeah, Zoom,” Jennifer remembered, “and we couldn’t laugh or play like we would at Aunt Iris’s house!”

“I know it’s rough, girls,” John said before taking a bite of corn. “Even the League is struggling. We try to help in hospitals, give medical supplies, but even still, we’re being careful with social distancing.” He drank half his water and thought about Barry rushing around the country to hand out supplies to hospitals, then going to the Watchtower to wash himself and his uniform, before he could go home. Even Clark was almost inactive, what with a toddler at home. 

Anissa swallowed a mouthful of her macaroni and scratched the back of her head. “At least we’re able to see you, Uncle John,” she said with a smile, “and at least Daddy has only a cold, not the thing.”

John was relieved when his former brother-in-law was revealed to only have a cold but encouraged his girls not to stay with him and play “nurses”. Lynn was very serious about social distancing and who was the actual nurse. “Fortunately, John was rather pleased that she was working the night shift now; it gave him the opportunity to look after his nieces and see them grow up. 

“And I’m very thankful that I get to see you girls, too,” he agreed. 

They finished their dinner and put everything in the dishwasher, and John turned on Netflix so the girls could watch something uplifting and would get them up to sing and dance, not Cat Grant or Tod Donner reporting on the latest death toll. 

At seven, the girls brushed their teeth and put on their pajamas while John messages his fellow Lanterns, who had nothing to report. In some ways, crime was not as bad now that people were not leaving their homes. In other ways, it was worse now that people were fighting for toilet paper and basic needs. Sighing, John walked upstairs and knocked on the girls’ door. “Anissa, Jennifer, you girls in bed?”

“Almost,” said Anissa with a grunt. 

Taking a deep breath, because he knew that they would tell their mother and quite possibly their father, he knocked again. “Why don’t you girls come out? I have something to show you.”

He heard a race to the door, a slap, and Jennifer hiss “Ouch”, and then his nieces presented themselves to him, Jennifer in her flannels and Anissa in her nightgown, both in fuzzy socks. “Come with me, you two,” he said as he held out his hands. 

“Ani hit me, I didn’t--” Jennifer began, but he gently shook his head. She immediately went silent. He checked through the window to make sure no one was watching or outside. Then, with his ring of power, he shifted from his sweatshirt and sweatpants to his Green Lantern uniform. 

Anissa and Jennifer giggled as they did ever since they were tiny, but then he used his ring to create a little magic carpet that swept them off their feet. With one hand, John opened the window, and the magic carpet reached upwards to shape masks around the girls’ noses and mouths. They stared at their uncle, their eyes wide, as he checked the area one last time and flew the girls outside. 

As John closed the window, Anissa and Jennifer looked around their neighborhood at a view that they had never seen before. “Look--I can see the playground!” Anissa pointed. 

“My friend’s house!” Jennifer squeaked. 

Smiling to himself, John flew his nieces higher into the air, loving their tiny “whoa”s and gently sailed them over their neighborhood. Jennifer even took down her pigtails and let her curls fly behind her. She felt like Superman, with her hair as a cape. 

John flew them to a familiar apartment and eased down to a particular window. Inside, Jefferson was in bed but not sleeping, though he sat up when he saw his daughters’ faces pressed together outside his window. They smiled with opened mouths and excitedly waved. After staring incredulously at John, he responded and blew two kisses, and then John gently moved the magic carpet away.

He took Anissa’s and Jennifer’s hands as he zapped away the magic carpet with the masks still in place, and the girls outstretched their arms, giggling as the wind brushed against their faces, and Uncle John rolled the three of them over on their way north. 

Anissa gasped. “My school!” she pointed to her uncle, who remembered volunteering at bake sales and watching her in the school play a little over a year ago. John gently swooped her down to fly over the roof and let her point to her classroom. The decorations were gone, as were her and her classmates’ names on paper clouds, but she could still see her old desk, the corner where good students were allowed to sit in bean bags to read their stories, and her teacher making lessons on multiplication a fun game. 

When John pulled her up, she threw her arm around his neck. “Thank you, Uncle John,” she said in a muffled voice. 

“My pleasure,” he whispered. Then he flew her down to the heart of Metropolis, where few cars were on the road and several people who were on the streets were masks. They admired the giant globe of the Daily Planet and John let them orbit the globe three times. 

“Ewe, bad man!” Anissa pointed to the LexCorp tower. John chuckled to himself and hoped that they didn’t hear, but then the girls blew raspberries, stuck out their tongue, and held out their middle fingers. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he gently scolded them as two green hands clamped over the ones they held out their middle fingers. “Where did you girls learn that?”

Both Anissa and Jennifer went still. “A movie?” they said so quickly that John couldn’t tell if they were lying or honest. 

“Please don’t do that again,” he said. “It’s rude and makes you two look uneducated--promise?”

“Promise,” the sisters said together.

John flew them over to their favorite restaurant, Bilbo’s Diner, which was now closed but offered takeout services and accepted donations for people who were on welfare. “We should have ordered a pie to share after dinner,” John thought aloud. 

“Tomorrow, maybe?” suggested Anissa.

“We could,” said John as he swept them away, “but a pie we can all share.”

“My favorite is chocolate,” said Jennifer, “but Ani and I share pecan all the time.”

“We can do that,” said John. He flew them to the nearby children’s hospital, where the virus had not infected any child but families had restricted visiting hours. The girls made their way onto his back so he could hide them while he waved to children who were still awake but alone. For fun, he used his ring’s power to spell out, GET WELL SOON!, U R STRONG!, and THINKING OF U! Nothing delighted him more than to see the delight on those faces, brightening their moods in this torrid time. It made him more grateful that his nieces, the only children that he cared about more than any others in the world, were in good health, but it was nice to expose them to less fortunate children. 

Close to the children’s hospital was the Metropolis University Hospital, where John let the girls wave to medical staff and make heart shapes with their thumbs and fingers. The doctors and nurses did the same, but the patients stared in awe that a member of the Justice League brought over two little girls just to say hi. 

Afterwards, John held the girls’ hands again and let them fly through the clouds, though Jennifer was disappointed that they didn’t feel like anything. When her uncle flew them down to look at the girls’ favorite ice cream place, Anissa turned to him. “This is so much fun, Uncle John,” she said. “Can we do it again?”

“Someday,” he promised. “But right now, it’s time for bed.”

As if on cue, Jennifer loudly yawned. John laughed and kindly flew them back to his sister’s house, where he opened the window and slid the girls inside. They kept yawning, loudly and silently, struggling to hold up their heads. Nevertheless, per their mother’s request, they washed their hands and faces before bed and let their uncle put them under the covers. 

“Good night, girls,” he whispered. 

Jennifer yawned. “Thank you, Uncle John,” she said through a yawn that nearly dislocated her jaw. 

“Thank you for the best night ever,” Anissa added. 

Smiling, John ruffled their hair. “Of course,” he said. “This is a trying time, but there’s still some good in the world...if you remember to be careful and take part in it.”

Jennifer and Anissa smiled before promptly falling asleep. John left the room and hoped that they had wonderful dreams of flying, unaware that they dreamed of being superheroes who would continue in their father’s and uncle’s footsteps in costume or as their mother in scrubs. 

[wtfholland]

17, where Peter finds out Y/N's an avenger (or just a super hero) as well?

lol i just came up with a fake super villain for the beginning of this to showcase y/n’s strengths

Thank you for your request! :)

***requests are closed!*** thank you so much to everyone who made requests❤️ they are in the process of being written, thanks for being so patient☺️

listen to this while reading♫

“Hello?!” I called into the phone harshly, flipping into the air to avoid the enormous metal fist I had coming my way.

“Hey Y/N! Are y-you getting ready for our date?” the velvety voice chimed on the other line. I cleared my throat, letting out a small grunt as I landed in a kneeling position. I quickly switched the phone over to my left ear, a smile creeping on my face in the process, but my eyes never leaving the mechanical beast in front of me. “Peter! Hey! Yes, I’m getting ready! I’m excited, I can’t wait to see you!” I replied, bubbling at the thoughts of how tonight was gonna go. An angry expression was painted across Freaky’s face and I giggled at the ugliness of it. “Me too! What are you wearing?” Peter asked. I almost didn’t make out what he said; His voice was barely audible on the other end of the phone, the sounds of wind swishing mixed in with some heavy breathing was cutting him almost completely out. “I…uh…just a red dre—” I was suddenly cut off by the dinosaur like foot hurdling towards me. It knocked me off my feet and I toppled over like bowling pin. “Ah, shit! Ow…”

“Y/N, you good? What was—ahh!…What was that?” Pete questioned, the emphasized inhales and exhales continuing. “Oh, I just, y'know, slipped on a…sock! Yeah, but I’m wearing a red dress and I know for a fact that it’s gonna blow your…MIND!” I shrieked as I felt an extremely heavy pressure put on my back, knocking the wind right out of me. I found myself being pressed against the cracking pavement of the road, face down. The tiny pebbles and remnants of broken beer bottle glass were digging into my stomach and chest, I winced in pain.

“(Y/N), are y-you okay?“ I could hear Peter stutter. I wheezed underneath the massive iron foot pushing me down into the Earth. “Y…es, Peter. I have to go, I’ll see you later! I love you!” I quickly hung up and aggressively slid my phone across the road, hoping to God it wouldn’t get damaged. “Y-you mother fucker! Is…that all you got, metal dick?” I screamed. With every fibre in my body, I tried to push myself off the pavement; I could feel tiny cuts opening up on my palms but I didn’t care, not now at least. When I managed to get back up on my feet, I was able to completely lift Freaky’s giant metal foot off of me. I then jerked his entire limb, attempting to throw him off balance. He wobbled, I took my chance and jumped into the air, sucker punching Freaky in the middle of his big, shiny stomach.

The beast tipped over and I could see the indent I made with my fist and laughed in triumph. While still hovering, the foot that held me down flew up in the air but I quickly dodged it. I held my palms together to form a shitty looking fireball. Damn, I really have to keep working on these. I nervously aimed my hands towards the giant, who was trying to get back on his feet. I jerked my arms, the ball flung towards Freaky but only caught the side of foot. “Shit! C’mon!” I yelled to myself. I repeated the action, this time it hit his chest, knocking him back down. “Yes! Take that, you junkyard animal!” I taunted, firing another fireball, battering him in the face. I wasted no time before I flew over and came down on Freaky’s head with all my might, thanks to my super strength.

“Ah! I love me some crushed nuts and bolts this time of year!” I sing-songed, stomping down onto the giant’s face. “You’re not the only one!” a voice roared from behind me. My heart dropped and I immediately halted my movements. I suddenly felt a strong slash of hot pain on my cheek; My mask sliced open and I squawked. I began stepping back but missed my footing and went tumbling down to the Earth from on top of Freaky’s face. In a flash, I climbed back to my feet to see the giant’s legs and arms held tightly together by…oh, no. Webs. I looked up at Freaky’s face to discover a sewer lid buried deeply in his head. That’s what must’ve grazed me. “And that, is how it’s done.” I heard from behind me. My eyebrows knotted together violently and I spun around, coming face to face with the last person I wanted to see.

“What the hell?! I had that, you fucking pest! What did I tell you about stepping foot onto my turf again?!” I roared at the red and blue latex wearing freak. “Oh, shut it! I could see how much you were struggling. I expect a nice ‘Ah, thank you so much, Spider-Man! You’re my hero, Spider-Man! I wouldn’t have been able do that without you, Spider-Man! I owe you big ti—’” I cut him off by flicking him right in the throat. His hand instinctively shot up to hold his neck, rubbing his Adam’s apple.

“Hey! I’m just saying; I don’t care if this is ‘your side’ of Queens. I love and will protect this entire city if I need to, regardless of whatever you say!” I could feel the steam coming out of my ears. How dare he! He’s done this so many times in the past and if I’m being quite honest, it’s a total shot to my self esteem. This douche baggery. He is practically asking to be castrated. “You’re a total amateur, I’m not surprised Iron Man hasn’t recruited you to be an Avenger. You’re pathetic at what you do.” he snickered. My gaze dropped down to my feet. The front of my suit was practically drenched in the grease and residue that was on the road, leaving a stale gasoline smell. The small tears in my homemade superhero suit were the finishing touches to this flop of a mission. I felt a sudden bolt of hurt, sadness, and failure. I sniffled and tried to think of anything else but crying; I chomped down on my tongue. Just think of Peter. Peter Parker. Your boyfriend. Peter, Peter, Peter. A gentle weight was placed beside my clavicle. I looked up. Spider-Man had his hand lazily placed on my shoulder, his eyes were moulded into a look of…remorse?

“Uh…I’m sorry…that was too much. I didn’t mean that. It…took a long time for Tony to recruit me as an official Avenger so I shouldn’t be talking. You’re not pathetic, I don’t know where that came from.” he apologized, his voice sounding weak. I swatted his hand off and gave him a stern look, my covered eyes locking onto the whites of his mask.

“Do you sometimes forget that you’re not the only one who cares about people in this city? The only one who loves people that live here? I care about my family, I care about my friends, I care about my teachers…I care about the people I see walking down the street every day! Oh, but no, let me apologize to you Spider-Man for not accepting your help. Thank you so much for destroying my self esteem and for making me feel like a waste of space. Thank you for making me feel as if I can do jack shit by myself. Thank you for constantly reminding me of the poor efforts I put into my missions. You’re damn well right I’m not an Avenger. I’d rather be down in the dumps, helping an elderly lady cross the street or saving a cat from a tree or just do nothing at all than be part of Iron Man’s freak show if that means I have to work beside selfish, conceded, ignorant assholes like you.”

My face got extremely heated within a matter of seconds behind my mask. Every word I said was true. I was fuming, I could punch this guy…but I wasn’t going to. As much as I hated him, something about the web slinger was holding me back from slugging him. Spider-Man looked back towards Freaky, who was laying on the road, not an ounce of life left inside the great tin man. “I, uh…if you want, I could help you round him up and dispose of the body. O-or I could get Iron Man to send some type of cleaning crew if tha—” I held my hand up to stop him from talking.

“No. You can do it your damn self because it seems like you wanna do everything yourself.” I growled. I turned around and was about to storm away when I felt him grab my arm. I didn’t shake the contact off this time, I just stood there like a statue and that’s when I felt the first tear fall, immediately dissolving into the fabric of my mask. “Y/SH/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. That was so uncalled for and…” he trailed off, his grip tightening and then loosening. I pulled my elbow forward, away from his grasp. “Leave me alone. I’m late for something really important. Have fun with your clean up.” I concluded before taking baby steps away from the bug. I heard him sigh in defeat. “Karen, could you please let Mr. Stark know that there needs to be a clean up crew on 97th immediately?…Thank you.” I could hear him talking to his trusty suit lady friend, which he didn’t cease to brag about once in the past. When I was at a decent distance from Spidey, I slowly turned my head to see him gazing at Freaky’s lifeless body. Like a switch went off in his head, he hurriedly ran down the street and slung a silky web at a building and soared off into the darkness.

After the web slinger disappeared into the night, I quickly ran back to the crime scene to retrieve my phone. I scowled when I spotted the crushed device, the screen practically white because of the cracks. I can’t even check the damn time, I’m probably late for my date! After discarding the useless phone into a nearby trash can, I quickly flew off in the direction of my house to half ass prepare for my date. Stupid bug! This is all his fault!

I nearly tripped into the restaurant from running. I was still recovering from the wipe out I took down the block and the honks I was getting from passing cars. When I spotted Peter sitting at our usual table, he shot up as soon as he saw me, a warm smile spreading across his perfectly sculpted face. I dusted off the invisible fuzz on my dress and trotted towards him giddily. “Hey!” I greeted, pulling him in for a hug. Peter’s arms snaked themselves snuggly around my waist, his lips peppered light kisses on the side of my neck before he buried his face into my hair, inhaling deeply. He was the first to pull away. Peter gawked at me, absorbing my appearance. I frowned, dusting off my dress even more. Peter’s hands quickly grabbed my frantic ones, bringing them up to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “You look beautiful, Y/N. Wow…” he swooned and my face grew hot. “Except…” he continued, gesturing at his scarlet coloured shirt.

“I thought you were gonna wear the red dress.” Peter pointed out, caressing the soft material of my sunny yellow dress. I shook my head and chuckled. “Yeah, uh, I’ve just seen…too much red tonight already.” I grumbled, my mind flashing back to the stuck up superhero I encountered half an hour earlier. Pete’s forehead wrinkled, “Did you get your period or something? I thought it finished two weeks ago.” I grimaced, realizing I chose the wrong words and that I shouldn’t share my shark week chronicles with my boyfriend. “No, no, I just…” my voice softened. Pete held my stare, making it impossible for me to look away. I felt terrible about the fact that I haven’t told him I’m a superhero. How the hell do I just come out and say that?

Oh, hey Peter! How’d you do on the chemistry test? Do you wanna go get sandwiches after school? Oh, I’m also a superhero, I forgot to tell you. How’s May doing?

“Nevermind, it’s nothing. I’ve just been watching horror movies all day.” I lied and quickly brushed off the thought of me admitting my secret identity to him. I gently grabbed his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. His hands shot straight to my hips and he held me firmly in place. Pete’s lips were so soft and inviting, I could kiss him for hours. We separated and Peter bent down to retrieve something from a manilla shopping bag from beside the chair. “Well, if you’ve seen a lot of red tonight, I’m not sure if you’ll like these.” He came back up with a gorgeous bouquet of red roses. I gasped at their beauty. Peter always outdoes himself on dates; Constantly insisting to pay for me wherever we go, dressing up like he’s going to a business meeting, and surprising me with flowers, different ones every time. 

“Oh, Petey, they’re so beautiful! Thank you!” I gushed, taking them from him, my fingers brushing over his. Peter’s smile faded and he looked at me questionably. I gawked at him, my eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” I demanded. His hand gently came up and caressed my cheek, grazing his thumb over something. “How’d you get this?” I raised my hand up to meet his, gripping the bouquet in my right hand. My eyes bulged when I felt a scrape on the side of my face; The feeling of crusting and dried blood made me cringe. “What the fu—Peter, hold this for a sec’, please.” I handed him the roses. I scampered to the bathroom and sure enough, I was met with an ugly red mark on my cheek. I groaned, examining it. My mind flashed back to the fight I had earlier and that’s when it hit me (literally, apparently); When Spider-Man came to disturb my ass kicking session, he swung that sewer cover at Freaky, not only hitting him but making some contact with me in the process. That asshole! He didn’t even apologize! I ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and wet it. I gently patted at the cut, wincing at the slight pain. I must’ve missed it when I was rushing to get ready for the date. I washed my hands and did one last check. It was still red but not as visible as before. This will have to do; And with that, I exited the bathroom.

Peter was seated back in his chair, but once again stood up when he saw me. He made his way over to my side and pulled out my chair. I smiled at him and kissed his cheek before sitting. “Oh, uh, I think I must’ve scratched my face really hard before. It was itchy, something bit me, I think. Maybe a spider or…something.” I explained. I had to control myself. My face just began to clear up too! I’m gonna squish that damn spider. Pete nervously chuckled, rubbing his nose at my comment before returning to his seat. I picked up the roses that Peter gingerly rested on the table on their side. I drank in the intoxicating oxblood shade, trying to focus on my boyfriend’s selflessness but all I could think of was what Spidey said to me.

You’re pathetic at what you do.

Even if he apologized and took it back, it still felt like someone stabbed me in the heart.

“Damn spiders, right?” Peter joked across from me. Without looking up, I muttered, “Yeah, damn spiders.”

“Whoa, you look like crap today” Michelle greeted as I sat down at our usual lunch table. The stench of over cooked chicken fingers and greasy fries was beginning to linger from my lunch tray, tempting me as to whether or not I should just chuck it in the trash and stick with my pudding cup. I shot my friend a lazy smile. “Thanks Mish! That’s exactly what I was aiming for.” I sassed in a higher octave. She scowled, “I was just kidding, loser. Don’t call me ‘Mish’!” She snatched one of my fries and tossed it at me.

“Oh, heck! Are we initiating a high school food fight? This has been on my bucket list for as long as I can remember.” Ned swooned as he arrived at the table. He plunked himself down beside MJ, bumping her arm in the process. “Hey!” she exclaimed. Ned’s face turned a soft red. “Sorry Michelle—MJ! Yeah, sorry about that, MJ.” he chuckled cooly. Everyone knew about Ned’s larger than life crush on Michelle, even the girl herself. She rolled her eyes, readjusting the book in her hands. “Where’s lover boy, Y/N?” she piped up, challenge in her voice. “He ran out of chem class today. Peter said he should be back before lunch is over.” Ned explained before I could have a chance to say anything. Michelle rolled her eyes as my face dropped. “He’s gonna fail if he keeps skipping class like that.” She flipped a page in her book. “I think Lana Bedford started showing up more often than Parker and Lana is…Lana.”

Ned laughed, his mouthful of chewed up chicken fingers and MJ grimaced. I grew worried about Peter over the past couple of weeks. There’s been some instances when I’m over at Pete’s apartment and May would get a call from Midtown in regards to Peter’s absence. I can’t begin to explain how familiarized I’ve gotten to the floor, coffee table and chips on the wall as a result of May asking if I could step out of Peter’s room for a minute to talk to him. I of course respect her requests but am left to awkwardly take in the surroundings of the living room, absentmindedly counting the floating dust particles in the air. Naturally, you’d expect to hear yelling when parents (or Aunts) scold their children (or nephew), but I’ve never heard May raise her voice at Peter, and vice verse. It only lasts a couple seconds every time and then May steps out, gives me a smile and returns to the kitchen or TV; It’s almost like an organized schedule system we’re going at here. Peter never even gets grounded so I figured he must’ve had a valid reason as to why he always skips.

I’ve asked him a couple times but every time he just tells me that he felt sick and had to go see the nurse. I’m not stupid though, I knew he was lying. I never pestered him about it though, I didn’t want to start a fight so I’d just drop it and move on. I was done with letting it just slip through my fingers, I wanted to know what the hell he was doing. I quickly stood up, shaking the whole table in the process. MJ tore her eyes from the book, “Where are you going?” she asked as I raised my tray with my picked at lunch. “I just remembered I asked Mrs. Cladwell if she could help me with some of my math homework. I totally forgot but I just remembered so I have to go. I’ll see you guys at the end of the day!” I called out, already making my way towards the exit, not giving them a chance to argue. I shook the contents of my lunch tray into the trash and set the flat plastic on top of the can. 

I dashed from the cafeteria towards my locker, impatiently fumbling with the lock. Three tries at my combination later, I found myself snatching my jacket from the hook and shrugging it on. I pulled on my beanie and shut my locker. How I wished I still had a phone. I decided that I was going to go and find Peter, I needed to know where he was going all the time and if he was safe or not. As soon as I turned around, I felt my heart fall into my ass. I fell back against my locker, my hand flying up to cover my chest. “Oh, shit! Sorry, babe, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Peter. He helped me back into an upright position and I threw myself onto him without any warning. He chuckled and reciprocated. “Peter…where do you keep running off to?” I whispered, my hands moving up and down his maroon coloured crew neck. “Uh, I decided to rejoin marching band so I had to get the new music and scales and sign out a trumpet and whatnot.” he babbled, but I knew he wasn’t being honest. This is no use. I just held him against me, loving the feeling of him pressed to me.

“Peter?” 

“Yes, gorgeous?”

“You don’t think I’m…pathetic or useless, do you?”

He immediately withdrew from me, holding me at arms length. “What? No! Why? Did someone say that you were because I swear to God, they better watch out! I bet it was Flash; I’ll kick his ass for you, babe. He won’t see—”

I laughed and leaned in, kissing his red nose. “Calm down, killer. It’s nothing too serious, It’s just…” I looked down, the tips of our shoes were touching. “Sometimes I feel like I’m not good enough and I really want to be, y’know? Sometimes I try so hard at things but there’s just someone who’s always shitting on everything you do and that makes you wanna give up.” Something flashed in Peter’s eyes, I could feel him tense. He shook his head and brought his hands up to hold my jaw gently. “Well, I for one know that everything you do you do it to the best of your ability. I mean, perhaps…” he took a breath, “perhaps whoever is shitting on someone else for doing the things that they do best are just jealous them. Maybe they wish…they could be as carefree and spontaneous as them. The don’t understand the life they live behind closed doors so the only way they can really express their emotion is through directly hurting them, which is never the way to go…”

I nodded in agreement, registering every single word that rolled off of Peter’s tongue. He brought me in for a passionate kiss before returning to hugging me against him. He stroked my hair gingerly and I closed my eyes. “You’re not pathetic, Y/N…” he whimpered. Spider-Man’s insult fell from my mind instantly, focusing on Peter’s cooing and reassurance. He knew, he somehow knew what I was feeling. Peter knew, somehow.

I walked down the empty streets, patrolling like some sort of peace officer. I hummed the melody to a song I heard on the radio today that I liked as I paced slowly through the quiet streets. Peter’s words today really did something to me. The harsh insults inflicted upon me throughout every encounter with Spider-Man fizzled away, leaving my brain blissfully free. 

“Hey! Y/SH/N!”

Goddammit, I can’t catch a break!

I looked up to see the one and only Spider-Man swinging down towards me. I stomped my foot into the sidewalk, leaving an engraved footprint in the stone. He came down and ran to me. “Okay, look, I know I’ve been a major dick to you…” he began. “Huh, you think?” I scoffed, marching around him. He went to grab my elbow like last time but I pulled it forward combatively. The bug flipped into the air and landed in my walkway. I stopped and impatiently stared at him. “Please, Mr. Spider-Man, get the hell out of my face.” I taunted in a cheery voice, holding myself back from knocking this latex wearing clown out cold. “Please, just listen to me! I have something I want to say!” the bug insisted. I rolled my eyes and held out my hands slightly, gesturing for him to start talking.

“I know I’ve been extremely unpleasant towards you but…today I realized something and it’s gonna sound like complete bullshit but I promise you, it’s not.” he paused, waiting for me to respond. I shrugged in annoyance and rubbed my hands together to keep them warm. He continued, “The truth is… I’ve been je—”

Before he could finish his sentence, an accidental ball of fire formed in my hands, exploding in my face. “Ugh!” I shrieked. After a couple seconds of registering what happened, I realized that thankfully, I wasn’t hurt. “No way…” Spidey drowned out. The whites of his eyes were so wide, anyone standing far enough would mistake them for sparkling streetlights. “What?” I asked nonchalantly. The web slinger cautiously lifted his arm and pointed at his face. I was so confused, but I raised both of my hands and brought them to my face. My blood ran cold when I felt my sweaty flesh against the thin fabric of my gloves, opposed to the rough material of my mask. Neglecting Spider-Man’s presence, I spun around forcefully and frantically began searching for my mask. My eyes flickered around in every direction, every crook, crack and corner. I was running around like a madman.

Shit, it must’ve been blown off from the fire ball! This is everything I never wanted to happen! He was not ever supposed to get on this level with me! No, no, no!

Left unsuccessful, I trotted back to the hero cautiously.“Uh…s-so, this is pretty awkward, huh?” I tried out, throwing in a nervous laugh to try and bring some light upon this situation. He stayed quiet. His strange silence began to irritate me. I raised my eyebrows and gestured my palms up in question. “What?! Have you not seen a girl kicking ass before?” No response.

And then I blew.

“You know what, bug boy?! I bust my ass almost every night trying to protect my side of the city. You know how many times I’ve gotten my hair pulled, o-or even caught in my zipper? Had my boobs punched? Ugh, not to mention the times I’ve had to run around while I’m on my period!” I moved closer to him, jabbing my finger into his red chest, not minding the Spider emblem. “Tonight is the first night in weeks that I don’t have anything going on so before you place your stupid judgements on me for being an ‘amateur’ or ‘pathetic’ superhero or how I’m not an Avenger, I’ll blast your ass with Raid! You can take your fancy gadgets, your web shooter…thingys, and that dumb look on your face and shove it up your—”

“Y/N!” Spidey cut me off. My finger immediately halted it’s stabbing fit. My voice seemed to leave me to stand there, a shell of a human being. I stared at him in complete shock. “Okay, you’re a freak. How the hell do you know my name?” I demanded. My breaths were shallow, my fingertips were cold, and I was shaking inside of my mud stained, military boots. He grabbed my outstretched finger, coiling his hand around it and then crawling his fingers up to rest over my hand. “Oh, my God! Y/N, it’s you!” he shouted. The masked vigilante grasped the top of his head, taking in a fistful of the red fabric and tugged his disguise off fearlessly, tossing his mask to the ground. I almost had a heart attack when I met the most beautiful pair of brown eyes to ever exist; disgustingly familiar, gorgeous chocolate orbs. A ruffled mop of dark brown hair, paired with a cute, crooked nose, rosy cheeks and thin lips. Spider-Man’s lips were slightly parted, intaking air and exhaling small water vapour clouds. Except, it wasn’t just Spider-Man.

“P-Peter?!” I screeched. I couldn’t believe it. Peter Parker. My boyfriend, my boyfriend is the infamous Spider-Man! How is this possible? I tugged my hand out of his grasp and took a couple steps back, trying to absorb what in the blue fuck was happening. “W-w-wha—? How are you…but what…huh…why?” I babbled like a fool. I looked him up and down, not processing this situation in the slightest. He chuckled, “Surprise.” I shook my head furiously at him. “This…this is insane! When were you planning on telling me about this, Peter?! How long have you kept this from me? Does anyone else know?” I questioned, not taking a single breath. Peter took a big step towards me, brushing the stray hairs out of my face. “No one knows besides Ned, which by the way was an accident, and May…which was also an accident and now you, which is also sort of an accident.” He gave me a soft smile. “I was gonna tell you eventually, it was just hard to find the time and figure out how I was gonna tell you. When were you gonna tell me that you were Y/SH/N, huh?” 

Hm, touché and my thoughts exactly. “I-It’s complicated! It’s the same thing you were thinking; I didn’t know how the hell I was just gonna come out and say it. You would’ve probably thought that I was crazy.” I exclaimed out of breath. We remained quiet for a couple minutes, at a complete loss for words. Peter looked delicious in his suit; It emphasized his toned chest and muscly arms and not to mention his glorious looking ass. After gawking at him in wonder, I  suddenly remembered how we ended up in this ordeal and shuddered.

“Did…did you mean all that stuff you said about me before? That stuff about me being pathetic? Please tell me you’re lying.” I asked cowardly. “That’s…what I was talking about when i spoke to you at school during lunch today.” Peter shook his head and ran his gloved hands through his silky hair. “No, baby. I was trying to tell you that…I’m…jealous of you.” My eyes fell out of my face. What?! Why in the world would Spider-Man be jealous of Y/SH/N?  “W-Why would you be jealous of me?” I pushed desperately for the answer. I moved closer to him again and held his forearms gently. “You seemed to be having a lot more fun than I was having as a superhero. You don’t need to report back to anyone or take orders, you get to be spontaneous and carefree, like I was saying at school. But…I’m disgusted with myself for all those nasty things I said about you and even if this never happened,” he gestured at the two of us, “if we never found out each other’s secret identities, I would still mean every single thing I’m telling you now. You are not useless, you are not pathetic, you are most definitely not a waste of space, and you are not an amateur. You are a strong woman who deserves to be praised for all the good she does. Please don’t let anyone walk all over you the way Spider-Man…the way I did. I’m so sorry for the way I treated you. I never meant any of that stuff. I bragged and flaunted what I had because I wanted you to be jealous in return, even though you had no clue that I was jealous of you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for how I’ve made you feel, I swear. I love you with all my heart and all my soul.”

Peter stared deep into my eyes and I knew every word he spoke was sincere and real. I loved him and now, I was just going to have to get used to him being my ex-arch nemesis. I took his hands in mine and let myself get lost into his eyes. “I forgive you, Petey. This is gonna take some time to process and vice verse,” I began and he smiled at me, moving in closer to rest his forehead against mine. “But we’re gonna be okay. I trust you when you say you didn’t mean those things. I know you, Peter. You could never hurt anyone intentionally. I love you and I always will.” I shut my eyes in content, breathing him in. “I love you too. I’m sorry.” he replied, his grip on me never faltering. After drinking in each others presence, I bent down and picked up Peter’s mask. I handed it to him and moved to his side, wrapping my arm around his waist, nudging him forward. He caught on, me mentally telling him that we should probably leave. Peter tossed his arm over my shoulder and we slumped slowly down the street, in the direction towards my house. My boyfriend stopped up suddenly.

“Oh, hey look!” Peter beamed. His eyes widened as he bent down to scoop something off the pavement and held it out in front of our faces. 

“Found your mask.”

holy fuck it’s almost 5am

[sirpoley]

On Towns in RPGs, Part 5: Building a Playable City

In the first article in this series, I embarked on an ill-defined quest to figure out what, if anything, a town map is actually for in tabletop play.

In the second, I took a look at the common metaphor comparing towns to dungeons—unfavourably.

In the third, I proposed an alternate metaphor: that cities are more like forests than dungeons.

In the fourth, I looked at how forests are used in D&D to see what we could use when thinking about cities.

Now, we're going to get to the nuts and bolts of designing cities for use in D&D.

Think In Terms of Districts, not Distance

No player is ever going to remember, or care about, the actual distance between their current location and the tavern they're trying to get to. Similarly, they won't remember, or care about, the roads they have to cross to get there.

The absolute most you can hope for is that they'll remember and care about some of (but not all of) the neighbourhoods they have to go through. In Terry Pratchet's Ankh-Morpork, the Shades is an extremely memorable and dangerous area. Like Pratchett's characters, players are going to avoid it wherever possible and yet always find that they have to go through it. Planescape: Torment's Hive and Fallout: New Vegas's Freeside have similar qualities. If you grimly tell the players: "the quickest way to the princess is through—oh, dear—the Shades," they'll have a reaction to it.

Don't overdo it with districts; keep the number small enough for them to be memorable. I'd recommend seven as an absolute maximum, but as few as three is perfectly acceptable. Lantzberg, from City of Eternal Rain, only used three (one each for lower, middle, and upper class—end elevation). A district can be as big as you like; feel free to simply scale them up for larger cities.

Forget Thee Not House Hufflepuff

It's no secret that in JK Rowling's Harry Potter series, only two of the four houses matter at all. If you're not Gryffindor or Slytherin, you're lucky to get any screentime at all. However, if they were simply cut from the series, then Hogwarts would feel terribly small, as if it were built solely for Harry to gallivant around in, and not part of a living, breathing world. Your city can't just have people to tell your players who to kill and people to be killed, it needs someone to clean up the mess after, also. From a narrative standpoint, these people don't matter, and will rarely be mentioned, but they can be used to pad your world out. When dividing up your map into districts, include a few that, as far as you're concerned, will never see an adventure, and give it maybe one or two notable characteristics. These are areas that are primarily residential, or involve industries not relevant to adventure (i.e., anyone other than an alchemist, blacksmith, or arcane university). Feel free to leave these places utterly devoid of points of interest.

In the adventure written for Lantzberg, for instance, there's little to no reason to ever visit the castle at the peak of the hill. It's there for verisimilitude (someone has to be in charge) and for the GM to hook later adventures to (which I'll elaborate on in my next point), but mainly it's just there to make the city seem larger. Similarly, most of the buildings in Castleview are manors of rich and important citizens, each one of which might have any number of use for a band of adventurers, but only a handful are actually fleshed out. After all, it would hardly feel like a living, breathing city if every single building was tied into a single adventure, would it?

Gaming is full of Hufflepuff Houses: the 996 Space Marine chapters that aren't lucky enough to be Ultramarines, Blood Angels, Dark Angels, or Space Wolves; D&D fiends that are neither lawful nor chaotic, Morrowind's Houses Dres and Indoril, and any of Homeworld's Kushan other than Kiith S'jet. This isn't laziness; they're there for a reason: they make the world feel larger.

Leave Room to Grow

Try to design a city large enough, and versatile enough, that once the current quest is wrapped up, you can inject some more content into it without serious retconning. This is part of where your Hufflepuff-tier-neighbourhoods come in—maybe one of them has been under the heel of a violent gang the whole time, but the party never found out because they never went there. Once the players have started to clear out your adventure ideas and points of interest, there's still plenty of room to pump some more in without the city bursting like an over-inflated balloon.

The map I posted earlier probably represents the upper limit of how detailed you should make your city. A GM could run a few more adventures out of Lantzberg, but a long-running campaign would probably benefit from a bit more room to breathe.

A Few Key Details

What are the kinds of things a DM really needs to know about a city? D&D3.5 had little statblocks for cities and settlements that broke down the demographics of different areas, but that's probably more granular than is actually necessary. Remember—every bit of detail that you include has the potential to distract the GM from finding the fact they actually need. It isn't for instance, particularly important to know that 12.5% of a neighbourhood's population are halflings while 54% are elves, but it might be useful to know that a neighbourhood has a notably large elf population and an often-overlooked halfling minority.

Who are the Watchmen that the Watchers Watch?

One infamously common thing that comes up in D&D is the city watch. It's shadow looms large over every action the party, and your villains, will take, so it's worth thinking about them a little bit. Its best to err on the side of making them too weak rather than too strong, as a powerful, well-organized law enforcement group can really put a damper on the opportunities for adventure. The counter-argument is that if the city watch isn't strong enough to threaten the party, then the party effectively has the run of the city; my preferred answer to this problem is to give the local lord a powerful knight or champion who can be used as a beat-stick against major threats to law and order (like the PCs) if need be, but can plausibly be busy enough with other problems to leave some for the party to handle.

When deciding who the local authorities are, almost anything you can come up with is more interesting (and historically plausible) than a centralized, professional police force. Here's a few examples:

A militia organized by local guilds

A local gang that provides protection in exchange for money and doesn't want outsiders muscling in on their turf

A semi-legitimate religious militant order

A mercenary group funded by a coalition of wealthy merchants (who just so happen to overlook their own crimes and corruption)

Don't get too bogged down in their stats; just pick a low-level NPC from the back of the Monster Manual and write down who they work for. Different neighbourhoods can share the same organization, but try to prevent a single organization from policing the entire city.

By breaking up law enforcement by district, you also prevent the entire city dogpiling on the party when they break a law, like you see in video games. If the party robs a house in the Ironworker's District, they can lay low in the Lists, where the Ironworkers' Patrol has no jurisdiction, until the heat dies down.

Points of Interest!

All those numbers you see scattered over D&D cities? Now's the time to add them. Each one should correspond to a description in a document somewhere. These descriptions can be as long or as short as you wish. For example, on the short end, #1 from Lantzberg just has this to say:

However, and I won't get into too much detail for fear of spoilers, some of those numbers are elaborate, multi-page dungeons.

While you should endeavour to keep the number of districts low, there is no ceiling to how many points of interest you should put into the city. Don't burn yourself out. If you can come up with six, put in six. If you can come up with fifty, put in fifty.

A point of interest can be anything from a scenic overlook to a toll bridge to an elaborate sewer system packed with kobolds and giant rats and treasure. They can be as fleshed out or as minimal as you are comfortable with. There's a sweet spot that varies from GM to GM, as if you include too much detail you suffer from information overload as the party approaches the point of interest (sixteen pages of description, for instance, for a single shop is less than helpful), while too little information might lead to you having to do too much on the fly. I like maybe one to three sentences per point of interest, or per room in a point of interest if it is important enough to warrant its own map (I typically only map dungeons).

Random Encounters

I'll write a series on handling random encounters later, but for now, breaking up encounters by district is a convenient way to do it. More dangerous districts, for instance, might have muggers or even monsters that attack (especially at night). If you're going to use random encounters in your campaign, creating a table for each district lets you use your local colour to affect actual game mechanics. Castleview, for instance, is very safe due to constant patrols by the Lady-Mayor's Watch, while the flooded Lists are full of man-eating fungi, ghouls, criminals, and who knows what. This lets you follow the age-old advice to "show, don't tell." You don't have to say "this area is full of crime," you can show the players this by throwing some criminals at them.

This post has already gone on way longer than intended. Next time, we'll use what we've learned to answer the original question and make better town maps.

[theindependentjournals]

Puff, the Magic Dragon

Come one, come all! Gather all ye round my fire-pit, and I will share with you my folklore. The power I feel when I am holding my Magic Wand – my “tobacco” pipe – is unmatched. It seems when I light the sticky green kush that fills the pipe (meant for strictly tobacco use only - of course) and breathe in the fumes, the wind blows harder with more vengeance and the clouds roar until thunder booms and lightning strikes. I then take my horse out of the stable, suit up in black leather boots, hides and cowboy hat and ride through the darkness to the eye of the storm. The power stems from the feeling that I am fitting in, I am doing something that all the cool kids do. Do I think it makes me cooler and a cut above the rest that I use drugs? I believe it does. Especially when I am on them. I feel good. I feel confident and secure in myself.  Not that I am not already a little magical when I’m not on drugs. I light up and all the sorcery I have cast appears in front of my bloodshot eyes in the form of a firework show. I see colors and hear music. It’s like a “Saturday in the Park” every day. It’s like trumpets are being blown at the arrival of The Queen to The United States where American Flags are waving triumphantly as her plane touches down. Little trivialities do not concern me. Only America’s and thine own victories are at the forefront of my mind. I drive by all the woman and they smile at me in their Sunday’s best and on their best behavior. I click my heels, tip my hat as they swoon. All is right in the world. There is no bad, but only good. Bad is unbeknownst to me in my little corner of heaven where the flowers bloom and the sky shines blue right on cue.

The first time I found my way into wheeling and dealing with illegal substances, I was 16 and in the eleventh grade. My girlfriends and I made it a thing to spend the weekends together. We would talk about girls, boys, hermaphrodites, make jokes and mess around well into the night. I guess it is just something we preferred to being alone. We knew everything about everyone in our school. We got a hoot out of them. We enjoyed frequenting the cinema and even so lucky to see our favorite musicians in concert. For example, the first movie we went to see together was Blades of Glory with Will Ferrell. As a group, the first movie we watched was Coraline. We would get excited about going to the movies almost every single weekend, so we could be very in the know about up-to-date cinematography. We went to handfuls of concerts, such as Bring Me the Horizon, Mychildren Mybride, Chiodos, A Skylit Drive, Family Force 5, Escape the Fate, and A Day to Remember. Recently I have seen The Cary Brothers, but that is on a-whole-nother level. We went to Roller Derby events, Art in the Park, Hyde Park Street Fair.

The girlfriend I spent a lot of time at school with, due to her being in my homeroom classes, (actually the first person I sort of chilled with in middle school that I saw on the first day of 9th grade) would always speak of her nights of drinking, drug use and intercourse at Monday lunches. She lived in a trailer park with her grandmother and mother. She was upset with her mom because she would not look for work. I would say little, well, what did I do that weekend? Pass out….watch TV….. do my homework….? So it goes, throughout our 9-10 grade year, she would do those things occasionally and in the 11th year she found a reputable provider of alcohol and started drinking more exuberantly. She had a new girlfriend and she didn’t need me as much as before. I found other companionship as well. One of my “other friends” had been caught drinking at a park after dark with her buddies from Meridian Medical Charter and was put on juvenile probation in grade 9 or 10. She had also been drinking at a cabin party where she was in a terrible accident and the vehicle rolled. Luckily, they survived. She was furious with the driver because the driver claimed, “I am fine to drive.” And of course, the driver was Asian. My pal had cut back on alcohol use, but thought she was healed from that trauma enough to divulge once again in a safe environment. She had known I had not used before, but she knew I was interested in tasting what they would always rave on. Sometimes I whined that I never had the opportunity. She would preach safe drinking because she had experienced the effects personally. We waited until my parents went out of town and had the other girlfriend brought us a “half gal.” She says to be careful because when you are young and a beginner, a little goes a long way. They were similar in such respects.

           I set the stage. My flat screen is connected to my Dr. Dre, Tech N9ne, Snoop Dogg, 50 Cent booth. The party refreshment I stowed for the week in my closet was busted out and awaiting to be pressed to our lips. The house is clean, catered and decorated to the best of my abilities. I had showered, shaved, and was in my best attire when the guests began to arrive. One of the party-goers had skipped a Band Trip with her Lesbian Lover to attend My Party. (Although she was already a slacker. She played drum line.) I told her it was sure going to be “Crunk” and we would get “Schwasted.” Another one of them was “Big Boobs McGee.” She wouldn’t have come had the lesbian not. She was very picky of who she put her time into. Third, we had “Monotone Melissa Magaret” We were ripe to the pickin’, ready and willing to go all-out to get “Riggity-Riggity-Wrecked!” This was my first time. Each of the guests had indulged in this vice prior. They arrive together, and we decide on doing a round of shots. One round turned into three quite quickly where we begin to slowly fade into the outskirts of intoxication. We knew we were in for some fun at that point. Monotone Melissa thinks she’ll pour a “Screwdriver.”

Turns out, I am rowdy, full of spirits, and don’t know when to stop or what boundaries are. I found myself on a chair in my living room and “Big Boobs” was laying up against me in the recliner with the foot rest up. I think she was there first, but my butt snuck up into the little space she had between her and the armrest. I remember the feeling of elation. I couldn’t stop hitting on her. She told me she wasn’t a lesbian when I told her I was in love with her. At that point I began to cry. I get up and sneak off, when everyone is too drunk to be paying attention, to the alcohol on the counter. I have a habit of getting sad and then chugging straight liquor. I must have cried hard for a half-hour when somebody said “MAN, YOU’VE BEEN CRYING FOR SOME TIME.” I say, “HAVE I, NOW?” I had no memory of this hysterics. There was alcohol spilled all over the floor and counter from my hysterical shot glass attempts and, now there is a full-blood Hispanic in my living room. Next, I find myself deeming this Hispanic “Pablo.” He had a Caucasian sounding name (Like e.g. Jim), but to me he appeared as a “Pablo.” Then, I am out back in the yard. I look to the sky, it is beautiful, as always. Then I tackle the lesbian onto the grass and start smooching her all over. I go inside, fall over, try very hard to get off the floor, but I can’t. “MY BODY FEELS LIKE THAT GUMBY CHARACTER.” No big deal, but I am officially drunk for the first time in my life.

           “…..So what we get drunk.. So what we smoke weed….” As everyone begins to awake, they “gotta blast,” but want something greasy to rid their hangovers. They’re thinking Mac D’s. I get a threatening text from the lesbians’ lover that I better never put my hand on her property ever again. “Oh,” I say, “I didn’t mean it. We were just drunk. Of course I don’t have a thing for her, she’s just a good friend!” I was a little scared. She sounded like she meant it. I wake up and I am still drunk. There is about an inch of liquor left and I take another shot because, “Why the hell not!?” At this point I am enjoying the new feelings in my body and I do not wish to revert back to a normal state of dull routine quite yet. I could immediately see how this would be addictive to me. At the time, I did not think into Abuse or Addiction. I just used seldom as I pleased, for the shits & giggles, as in stress-relief. My parents are due home in a few hours. I’m not sure exactly when. I begin to feel scared because I am obviously still drunk or hungover or still drunk. I pray they won’t get home early and will be gone. My parents are both of addictive personalities. I pray they won’t get suspicious when I am asleep in bed and not down to greet them. I greet them anyway although I am still a little drunk. Then I crawl back to my bed and hide away, no questions asked.

           At this young age, I am still respectful and obedient of my parents. My conscience does not want to disappoint them. It is funny how much I dread any sort of trouble in fear of punishment from my parents, because when I get in trouble my parents never are actually mad with me. They are angry people and can get nasty but mostly with each other. I thought they would turn that nastiness towards me, but that never happened. They usually shrug, shirk it and go on with their business like, “Oh, that isn’t too bad.” This is hilarious. The very next weekend, my mom decides to move the bed from the guest room into storage. I had forgotten, while drunk that I had put the bottle of the alcohol under that bed. She moves it and the crime I thought I had gotten away with was in view for her. She asks, “What is this?” I tell my girlfriends and we roll on the floor laughing. “Oh, it was my first time,” I say, “I only drank about eh, half the bottle, more or less, between us five.”

           Now, I really thought these were nice young woman. Better friends than I could ever imagine actually having. And we bonded over this drug use. It was almost no more to us than an inside joke. We knew we were good. We were impermeable. This drug use would not harm or test our solid sense of inner strength. We knew we had this one life and were going to live it to our fancy. One day, we are over for a chill. One of them walks us to the parkway drive. She’s got a pipe and a baggie. She asks, “Does anyone want to try some of this?” We all agree that it wouldn’t be too bad to just try it. The lesbian lovers were united again and they had already smoked marijuana together before. But again, this was all rather occasionally seldom. We get in a circle and she says it is Spice (K2), a fad at the time that you could buy at tobacco stores!! Otherwise referred to as “Potpourri.” She received it from her brother who was one year older. We roast the bowl and feel funny. My Asian friend pipes up, “My dad is out of town and the house is empty. I didn’t know you guys wanted to get high tonight. We could go back there and relax.” We walk back to retrieve our belongings and my body feels almost made of stone. It is hard to pick up my legs to walk. I exclaim, “I feel like a statue!” I guess it was kind of like walking on the moon. We load in the car and head a short-way east to set up camp. Almost out of a dream, she’s got a table out back with just enough seats. Just like the characters in That 70s Show, we would toke in a circle. This was Pope, so the high was around 15 minutes. But you were extraordinarily high for those 15 minutes. At the comedown, we would just smoke more. It was off the wall, but we all agreed that we enjoyed doing this and were even more pleased our parents hadn’t a clue or they didn’t care to. She tells us, “My dad will be gone the entire week. My girlfriend is staying with me. Why are you smoking that spice and not legit marijuana anyway? I can get us some real weed.” I am all, “Uh, how much does this cost? How much do you need to buy?” She is, “You can get really high off a small amount. We’d probably only need a dime bag to get good and ‘stoney-baloney.’” We agree we will search for real marijuana because the spice only leaves you high for 15 minutes and always a disappointment to comedown. Such a disappointment to come down. So our sessions would last a few hours. Plus, it’s kind of a dirty high. Real marijuana and you were high for two hours.. then you could smoke again or pass out.

           “We’ve got the goods!” One of the lesbians creates a “Gravity Bong” for us and tries to explain the mechanics behind how you use it. You dip the Gatorade bottle with holes in the bottom in the bucket of water, then pull up slowly when you torch the bowl, (making sure to only light the side of the bowl as to not waste “greens”) as the smoke fills up the bottle, then you untwist the cap until when you can see the smoke and inhale the vapor. You must blow outward to empty your lungs so they have full capacity when you are breathing in. She says it is the best way to smoke weed and the gravity bong gets you the highest. “Who wants greens? Angela it is your first time, so you can take them. Here, I can light it for you.” My first reaction when breathing in this foreign vapor, is to hack up a lung. My lungs are virgin to the substance and it burns heavily. I can’t take too large of a hit. We start toking before one of my friend shows up. She gets there a little concerned like, “Hey, I can smell that from the front yard. You don’t think your neighbors can smell it? We better move further back.” We feel all philosophical on this drug. We feel our minds bending in our skulls. We feel like we can reach a level we can’t reach intellectually without this drug. We try not to cough and take it like a champ. Our friend keeps saying she’s getting “Scooby Snacks.” (Ew) We become enamored with learning terminology and more about this miraculous little drug. I say what I’m feeling is really a sort of an epiphany. Brilliant things would come to me almost out of nowhere! We have a wonderful time. They even built a fort. The lesbian was practicing rapping the fast part in “Look at Me Now.” The notorious quote from our silly friend arises, “Shall we load another bowl?” To sum up my first time smoking weed, time slows to a stand still and everything becomes hilarious. I felt a sense of safeness and contentness that I was not used to. I had always been a little depressive and anxiety-ridden, but this provided me with a smile.

           Melissa’s brother’s friends become known as “dealers,” or that’s what everyone called them at least. My friends would like to refer to him as “Permafried.” Him and his pals would experiment with huffing freon on the weekends when they were fooling around. At school one time, Melissa invited us to her home for lunch. “I usually walk,” She says, “But today, I don’t feel like it.” We get to her house and all is normal. She goes briskly upstairs to her bedroom. I follow her, being curious as I am, and find her with a Coke can with holes poked in it with a thumb tack and she is smoking spice and blowing the smoke out of the window. I say, “Ey, now that is pretty cool that you smoke before class.” She says, “Yeah, but it is just spice so the high doesn’t last long and I’m usually sobered up by the time class gets in session.” I ask if I can take a hit before class, you know, to loosen up a little. School was stressful and we didn’t enjoy high school much. She asks me in our last period how I liked it. We had History 10 together. She sat in front of me. She was right I was not very stoned by the time class started. One time we decided we didn’t like how our history teacher did the lessons. We wrote her an anonymous note saying she was a great person but a crappy teacher and put it on her desk in stealth. Next time, we contact her dealers one lunch. There is a bong on the table outside Melissa’s house. I guess her parents were out of town. We get a bag of OG Kush. Apparently, it’s the hottest weed on the market. I remember thinking it didn’t seem any more special than what I had previously tried. As a beginner, I’d always let someone else take control of the bag and load the bowls and all. Literally, all I had to do was take the pipe, light it, and pass it. I would pitch in to pay instead of buying lunch because of the desire to get high and just eat cereal or something. We light up and I drive us back to school in my mom’s 2007 Toyota Escape Sport-Truck. Now, I am feeling like a complete badass and school doesn’t seem like a chore. “Is anyone else as high as me right now?” I think. My friends tell me, “I know you shouldn’t have tried it because you are going to want to get high all of the time and then I will be disappointed in you.” I’m like, “Stop that chit-chat right now, I am a big girl and I will smoke weed if I please.” My willfulness was beginning to rear its’ ugly head.

A experience I remember, is weekends at Monotone Melissa’s. Her parents roomed downstairs, her upstairs. She had a “TV room.” Sometimes I would play Donkey Kong on her vintage machine. Once we watched The Hills Have Eyes and I about shit my pants. This particular time, she had a sack and I would park my truck around the bend by her house and we’d sneak out to the car with the sack and fill my gravity bong with water bottles we kept in a bag. She told me that she heard you can get higher if you hold in the smoke. I lit me a big fat, yellow hit and held my breath for about 3 minutes. When I went to breathe out, not only was I oxygen deprived, but the weed smoke had already binded to my aioli’s and no weed smoke came out. She said, “HOLY SHIT. THAT WAS A HUGE HIT. YOU DIDN’T EVEN BREATHE OUT.” She asks if we are good. Then we stumble inside. I go lay on the couch and she goes to her room. I grab my IPod with 1400 songs and put on shuffle. I am amazed. I go – I’VE NEVER HEARD MUSIC SOUND THIS GOOD BEFORE. I had all types of music I had never listened to. Shuffle began with “Bear” by The Antlers, then went to some Bombay Bicycle Club. I decided whilst stoned alone I would make a mission to discover music I liked that I had never heard.   After school one time we went to an abandoned house and smoked in the backyard. We started getting that paranoia when we thought the man just walking by was out to get us so we had to hurry to hop the fence and leave. We were addicted at this point. Once we were at a party and had no smoke so we tried to smoke cat nip because I read on a forum it gets you high like weed. It got us a little high, but it was not like weed. I remember the first time I drove after smoking weed. We decided to go on a “Space Cruise.” The first thing I say when I put my foot on the accelerator is “I FEEL LIKE I AM OPERATING A ROCKETSHIP!” You are driving the speed limit, but everything around you is moving so slow.. We only find problems with staying in such a small lane. We have to have the co-pilot make sure we are not gravitating towards the other lane. We drove across town and I quickly found that to be my favorite post-toke activity.

           We always worry about appearing sketchy, but we never actually come close to getting caught. Well except caught by their mothers. It was very easy to get away with. One of the girls would surprisingly bring a thermos with her weed and pipe and lighter to class every day, just set on her desk like it was water. It was exceptionally hilarious when she would come to after lunch period (Algebra II) stoned. She was Asian. For some reason that escaped us, it was always obvious that she was high. This was before I smoked before classes ever and before I used frequent. It seemed to be 2-3 times a week. And also, surprising the teachers didn’t care. Her eyes were red as the devil and so pronounced. I never really asked if anyone else could tell. But I knew instantaneously. It was so obvious and she would move SO slow. One day I’m like, “It’s kind of weird when you come to class high because it is OBVIOUS.” I guess nobody really cared though. I started to keep my gravity bong in the trunk of my car in my backpack. We would go to Lesbian’s house or Lesbian’s new girlfriend’s house during lunch and smoke a bowl. Sometimes we’d bring the pitcher into Stinker and fill it with water so we could smoke on the side of a road in one of the neighborhoods.  Oh boy, we sure liked her. She was 14 and told us that she loved cocaine and acid. She was the first girl I asked on a date but then when we got there I lost my nerve. I had to ask her like 4 times how old she was because I kept not remembering or understanding that she was a 14 year old sophomore. Then we’d get the munchies and eat cup o’ noodle or like, rice krispy treats. We never had to go to last two periods sober! We were just fucking high. We would smoke about every weekend and then it progressed to most lunch periods, then to every lunch period. Just the way I liked it. Oh, and after school too. My parents would ask when I’m coming home, I’d always tell them I went out to shoot some hoops. I used to play a lot of basketball in my childhood.

We’d walk in the high school and be like “WHO SMELLS LIKE WEED??” “OHMYGOD IT’S US!!” We go to a party once and the cops bust it. We had just showed up about 5 minutes before the cops arrived. We had not done anything but were talking on loading up the pipe when the club goes on lock-down. There are 300 people in the home! We do not open the doors. We do not look out the blinds. All the curtains are closed. We act like it’s a fucking earthquake and duck to the ground. A bird just took a shit on my head, because I parked on the opposite side of road and got me my first ticket when the coast is clear to leave. When we get in the car, my car is like “Hello. This is Onstar.” I’m like, “GREAT. THEY’VE TAPPED MY CAR AND ARE TRACKING ME NOW.” Our regular provider refuses to sell to us after that. We’re like… “We will take our business elsewhere then.”

           Once we’re drinking back at my place. We pick up some Smirnoffs from a provider downtown. Me and Lesbian start downing shots. We see how many we can take in a row. We take 10-11… IN A ROW. This is about 20 minutes after cracking the bottle. Next thing I know, I come into consciousness in my shower and I have clothes on.. in the shower. I walk in my room and she is on my bed passed out. And our sober friend is nowhere to be found. I say, “EW, WHY DID YOU PUKE ON MY BED?”  She says, “I didn’t puke dude.” I say, “YEAH YOU DID. THAT IS YOUR PUKE.” She says, “No you were laying on that side of the bed and you puked.” I’m like “There’s water all over the floor and coming out of the light fixture downstairs.” No wonder I reeked of vomit. She’s like “GOOD JOB YOU FLOODED THE HOUSE.” I try to ask her to fill in the blanks for me the next day at lunch in the drive thru but she isn’t good at filling them in. Me and her try ecstasy together after a gay pride event in Garden City. It is 45$ but we get 3 for $40 cause that’s all I got. We have to drive to Kuna after the event to pick up. She tells me she loves it. She is 11th grade and I am 12th but is taking summer classes to graduate a year early. She is grinding her teeth and talking nonstop. I am on the toilet and seems like I can’t stop urinating. I am on my bed trying to come down during the peak and I feel like I will never sober up. I couldn’t fall asleep until 1 pm the next day and we popped it at 11:30pm. She tells me at lunch that she told everybody she took ecstasy. All her 11th and 10th grade friends. I didn’t enjoy her talking about it but still felt a little happy buzz from trying it. Her ex-girlfriend was PISSED. So, that’s always fun to laugh on. I almost flood the house another time, but this time I was closer to drowning. I got too drunk at her house and puked again. The last thing I remember is everyone walking to sleep the upstairs. I am alone in the basement with a mattress. I last remember puking, then my drunk incompetent self thinks, better take a shower to clean up. Next thing I know, I am arisen to pounding on the bathroom door my friend is yelling at me across the locked door, “Angela!!!Angela!! You are choking on water!! You are going to drown.” This was probably one month after the first time. I guess I walked upstairs and decided to take a bath. At least I didn’t flood her house.

           I then see less of my other buddies and more of another woman. I meet her due to lesbian’s new girlfriend. I take it as a bad omen that on the night she became interested in me romantically, was the worst night in all of our lives. We go to a birthday party and are taking “bong rips” in the backyard. A girl from our school looks like shes itching for a fixin cause she staring us down through the window, giving us the major stink eye. I’m like, “Does anyone else see Mak just twitching in the window?” We only stay a bit but when we get back to the friend’s house, we go to get settled. I take the floor and let this new girl have the couch. I am getting settled for bed. I put on my jammies and start folding my day clothes and unfolding my blankie and pillow. I look over and she is staring at me smiling like a fool. I don’t know what she is staring at, actually find it rather odd. Oh well. The very next day we wake up all happy and refreshed and ready for another fix. It is the weekend, after all. My friend had just turned 18 so we drive to the smoke shop and buy a $10 tub of Pope and a personal bong that we name “Dory.”  She is browsing her web and she is stopped in her track by a text that her cousin was in a serious wreck that very night. I ponder on what very moment this happened. Maybe it was the moment she smiled at me. She is in intensive care at the ER hooked to a life machine. I didn’t even know they were related. I sympathize but there is little else I can do. We just met her and aren’t familiar with her much. But we do try to be patient with her. This new girl invites us to her house, they have a shed we can smoke in out back and are renting the place from a landlord. She stays home from school feeling ill one day and a few nights later we pick her up from the hospital visiting her cousin. The outlook does not seem positive. She is still in coma. They are asked if they will pull the plug because her brain is so damaged they do not believe she can ever be saved… Her cousin was in my graduating class and we were set to graduate in 2 months.

That night, instead of attending his birthday party with the cake strippers and dancing kids, she was in the car with a girl and two boys driving down the freeway after drinking at a party. The driver was speeding and ran into the freeway barrier. I guess he was on the freeway going west. I guess he decided to exit the freeway at Curtis but didn’t slow down enough and was zooming back onto the freeway on the on-ramp when he crashed. I just know I never drive like that, no matter if im a lil tipsy or not. She was passenger. He got an innumerous sentence some months later. She said one thing she knew was that her cousin would do ecstasy A LOT and she wondered whether they were rolling on “E” when it happened. She would always say well hopefully it was instant and she had no pain. The driver was sentenced to vehicular manslaughter. His name was Scotty. We continued on our routine. That night the lesbian’s new girlfriend provides us with a liquor hookup and we get some strong whiskey. We park on the side of her street by a fence and decide to take shots. The new girl did not feel like drinking, but she would toke. The rest of us got nice and toasty with our warm whiskey and a little drunk. Then a black man from across the street walks out of his house and starts toward us. We start flipping out and although I am a little intoxicated, I turn on the car and put my foot on the gas for the first time. We must avoid this confrontation at all costs. My feet feel heavy and I go really, really slow bout 7 mph. Operating the vehicle is a lot of work. I round the corner and park on the other side. We chill it for a minute to give him time to go back inside and get settled.

At this point, I couldn’t care less whether I graduated high school or had to retake last semester. Everyone else was planning for college and I wasn’t feeling that. I was truant all the time. I would get up and walk out of the building whenever. I didn’t do my own senior project and paid someone else to write it for me, skipped presentation day, but went to make-up day and just skimmed by graduating. Once I bought Adderall off Monotone Melissa and read the entire history book preparing for the final. I still got a high C, but would have gotten a LOW F, had I not. My GPA fell that semester after meeting her probably from a 3.9 to a 3.6 and my High Honors dropped to an Honors. I began to realize that these things really don’t matter much. We attended graduation together. She wanted to go to hear her cousin’s name be called. Since her cousin wouldn’t be walking, I did not walk, but sat in the back with her. I told her when I could I would get my truck driving license, save up and build us a cabin in the woods. I feel like I have things figured out. A plan set in place. Every day was so bright. I felt utterly important. I felt this was serious. I guess I really didn’t have it figured out.

           They send me into the mental hospital. I hadn’t seen them in that year and that is how they welcome me home.  They put me on Zoloft and tell me “You will be back.” I stay dead silent my entire time there. I do not speak to a single soul. I get out in 15 days and get my first real job. I am working my first real job real professional like. They pull me aside one day and tell me 20$ is missing from my till and that because I was two hours late I have to have a week off. I agree although they never change the tills and there was no way I lost 20$. I then miss another day and am fired out of the blue. So much for a “job.” I quit smoking marijuana when I worked, but once I was fired I had nothing else to do. I resumed using. I spent 2 years looking for a job and had around 30 interviews and no…… job. I got another job and it wasn’t the same. The supervisor was breathing down my neck. I had to walk out. The old boss calls the cops on me when I come to the store one day. I still don’t know why. Then another employee called the cops on me claiming I was stalking her. She made me look like I was insane to the cops.

           I began to start seeing my ex-girlfriends friends from high school. I began to commemorate with them due to her being back in town and asking for rides every which way.. to see *insert name* to see *insert name* or the boy she is rooming with locked her out, etc. We stay a few nights in her friends’ apartment. Her roommate moved out who was the main tenant and she was left with the place for a short time longer. I’m liking these kids because they are just a hoot. Spontaneous and all. They also enjoy drugs like myself. They are speaking on a plan they have in place to leave Boise when the lease runs out on city bus and be bums/couch surfers around Portland. I drive them to the bus stop but they come back soon. One of the kids is addicted to Ativan and whines all day about how he needs to pick some up, or that he is in so much pain if he can’t have any. I wish to go with them and I hope to and take the car to accomplice them but that is a dream of mine that I never am granted permission. My mom won’t allow it and I definitely cannot take her sedan. I began driving them to donate plasma and I sign up myself, turns out to be an excellent source of small increments of money – just enough for a quick fix of drugs. I have encountered some boo-boos from the biomat. Bruises on my arms, missed placements of the needles. We’d usually make a date to go give plasma, find a hook-up for some marijuana, pick up lunch and light up. Later on, they stop allowing me to donate plasma, god knows why, but they are telling me I am being “erratic.”  

I have an apartment at this time. it had always been a wish of mine to have my own place and my mom was kind enough at the time to purchase me a room. It was in Downtown Eagle, right next to where they give horse rides on the carriages. I worked a lot at that time applying for jobs and hoping to be employed so I could continue living in an apartment, but I had no such luck. I had interviews at Teleperformance, Chili’s, Subway, Moxie Java, drove newspaper for a short time, basically went through Craiglist every day for months and months and sent in applications at any place that was hiring. No luck at all. Mark and Zelle. Mostly they need me for rides. The Ativan addict Mark attempts to break his own wrist with a baseball bat so he can get a prescription for Oxys, I drive them because I have nothing better to do. One night they start stealing all of this junk from peoples’ cars to sell for drug money. I think they get four longboards, two skateboards, a graphing calculator, 2 marijuana pipes, a FM transmitter, an iPod, a laptop, five bottles of whiskey from a car with cases of liquor just chilling in the back seat, 2 credit cards, some dishes, a large Indian window curtain, and a old woman’s hospital diaper. They also liked to steal money out of donation boxes. One time he grabbed like 25 bucks from Ronald McDonald Children Donation Box with a stick and some duct tape that he had also stolen from a construction site trailer. He also put his hand in a Dutch Brothers tip jar while I was distracting the barista talking about This Month’s Special. I said, “Well, then if that’s this months, then what is Next Month’s Special?” She went to go check. Once at Hype Park Street Fair, an old guy gives Mark a beer and we are underage (19/20) He gives me the beer and says I can have it if he can drive. I get surprisingly drunk off this one beer. I hadn’t drank much since my girlfriend left (No providers.) When they find the whiskey, I drink so much while a sober driver is driving us through the hills. I hadn’t drank in a long time. I also moon the neighborhood when we are turning around. I almost fell out the window.  Every time I hear that song, “All About That Bass,” I think of that moment. We take some acid tablets and pop some mollys and go see a dubstep concert, Flux Pavillion. My favorite shit ever. I was so damn high, I started writing some sick poetry when I got home.

The cops later come into contact with them about a theft they have committed, and they shift the blame on me where I am taken to court on Petit Theft. Nobody really knows if we stole from them or not, it was Sonic (flipping crazy) and the cashier saying it was me with them, driving, whilst in the police report it was listed as a car other than mine. I was not the only person they chilled with. They said it was me and two other dudes when they were given my picture from the biomat as “evidence.” I do not recall this event at all and I had to give up $75 to this case. I’d never even had two males in my car at once. They decide one day to steal from Melissa’s parents and I had to drive them to do this. I don’t agree with it but I do not try to stop them. I read through some girls’ messages who I was hanging around and they are talking on killing me on Facebook Messenger! *Insert little gun emoji.*

After losing my religion, I smoke a hit of meth because it was traumatizing. I decide for myself, I need to really just be alone and I hope to be alone forever. I bring up suicide for a second on the phone with my mother and ten seconds later there are cops forcing me out of my car and I am asking if I can please leave, I really can’t go in mental hospital again! I tell them I was only about to go home, and I was just selling a previous generation iPhone to a woman who contacted me from a Craigslist posting, because I had picked up the iPhone 6. They won’t let me go. I ask them where they are taking me once 6-7 obese men in uniforms drag me into the cop-car. They tell me we are going to the Emergency Room. Oh goody! I make sure to let them know Hell is real and they will be attending for what they have done to me. I begin to despise The Police. The Police and about most everyone. I have my first nightmare during my second stay at this hospital. It is a blood hound and it is going for my throat.  I lost about 50 pounds when I was with my girlfriend and kept it off for 2 ½ years. I then go to step on the scale and realize in ingesting the Seroquel dose, the pounds packed back on in 3-4 months (monthly injections.) I can’t believe my eyes. All I knew is that it made me feel like crap. I stop the dose, thinking this must be trash medication. I go to research online and see that it is a medication blacklisted by the military. Meaning they do not use it because it causes more harm than help. I really was the happiest person in the world before they dosed me. It changed me completely. It depresses me knowing I will never be that person again. They start packing on the labels. Depressed, anxious, psychotic, schizoaffective, bipolar, mood disorder, autistic, that I am scary when I am either avoiding them or just being quiet. I think they have used every possible term in their book. I can honestly say I have not felt the same since before that dose. I used to feel good. Now most days I feel terrible like there is no cure from the damage the dose caused.  I lost the weight 2.5 years later after walking 1,000 miles and working my ass off. But it is not just that, I am in pain all of the time.

           Around the same time, Monotone Mellissa’s parents have chosen the mental hospital route. Her ex-boyfriend had just shot himself (suicide) while his parents were away. They start her on a fresh dose of antipsychotics (Seroquel TM) the same junk they set me up on. They let me think they will get me on disability if I consent with the dose. I tell them I’d rather prefer to not be medicated as it is against my beliefs. They tell me “WELL, WE DO {believe in medication.}” and joke about putting me in a gag when I cry. They warn me of no side effects and let the drugs destroy me. I never got the disability I was promised. (I needed to find a way to get out of my living situations quick and easy and disability seemed like the best possible option. Although I was never previously disabled.) I think I received a bill once of $36,000 for being trapped in a room at a mental health unit for 28 days once.

           My lease is up, and I have to move in with my mom. She loses her job and has to give up her rental and decides to move in with her brother. I do not wish to live with my mom and her brother, but I decide I will mostly just ignore them. Usually I would just wake up get in the car and go. I meet a chick on the internet to get some weed because I had since deleted all of my old weed dealers they were starting to trip me out. I preferred smoking alone at this point anyway. As long as I didn’t need to be at home, I didn’t care. I pick up this chick. We get a sack and I drop her off. She tells me she is doing temp work for Albertsons and I should smoke her out during her break. We need another bag, so we are looking through people. She calls her friend and I go drive to pick her up. She seems normal-ish. We pick up another chick to get a bag and she says that she was on the news because she had hit something with her car and then ran and they were trying to find her. We get a bag and I take them home.

On the night of my arrest, the cops tell me someone from the gas station called the cops on me. I blow a .17.  I had not been to the gas station in around 3 hours when the cops picked me up.  Two months later, I am arrested again. I blow a .081 and a .083. They tell me I have to pay $3,000.00 that I don’t have. I didn’t even have money to survive then. They tell me they are going to take my license for a year. My car was the only place I could call home. I come back to my mom’s house from jail and decide I can’t survive without my license in these conditions. I overdose October 23, 2016 on 90 magnesiums and when that does nothing. I take 30 Hydroxyzine pills and 20 Risperdal which I was prescribed when forced into mental hospital but would never take.

Now, it has been two years since my first DUI on August 24, 2016. I have not drove. I have not smoked weed since December 31, 2016.  I have walked around 1300 miles.. just in order to leave my parents house. When I started probation in February 2017, the orientation gal told me everyone could get off probation at half mark, “if they have completed everything necessary.” I ask around and see how long others are on probation. Most 6 months unsupervised. Me? One year. I see what is required of me immediately, Victim’s Panel, Alcohol/Drug Assessment, 2300$ court fines. I complete my assessment and Victim’s Panel. At court the attorney told me I had one year supervised and one year unsupervised. On my mandate, it says two years supervised. I ask my Probation Officer around the 6 month mark, if I can get off supervised probation. She then goes to tell me I am on supervised probation for 2 years! Oh goody! I then come back to her at the one year mark in February and she lets me know… “Oh, actually, whoever did your alcohol assessment said your drug problem was so severe that you had to spend ONE YEAR INPATIENT in the WALKER CENTER.” (I talked to him for thirty minutes basically told him I drank two beers and went home and I smoked weed occasionally.) I’m like “So, you’re telling me all this now? At my mid-probation mark?” I mean, I’m in awe that I have to stay a whole year according to her, but I’m like, my life is already wasted now, so go ahead and shove my body in there for a year. I mean, my body has been in worse places. I spend three hours one day, calling the Walker Center. They say their longest inpatient treatment is 30 days. With outpatient after. I call trying to get BPA, they deny me immediately and then my P.O. tells me “Recovery 4 Life” Pro-Bono for inpatient. She says I have to complete all this before I can get off probation. I pay off my fines as soon as possible so they will stop being assholes. I am told in court that I will have my license suspended for one year until November 16, 2017. I ask my PO around October how to get my license back since the suspension is about up. There she tells me I have monetary holds on my account that I have to pay before I can get it reinstated.  I go home and ask google how much the holds usually are. It says 30-200$. Next time I am in probation I ask her how to pay the fines. She tells me my holds are 1150$. Great. I have no way to pay the fines and they don’t drop until July 2020. I call insurance because my mom starts talking at me that I can’t drive until March 2019 after some of my “rear-ends” have dropped because my insurance will be “ASTRONOMICAL” I did not even know what car insurance was. I thought it was like 50$ a month if it was anything at all. She tells me she was paying 300$/mo. on me. I didn’t know what for. I call to get an estimate and only one insurance company will insure me, Nationwide. 470$/mo. I start to work. There is nothing out here where we just moved. So anywhere I walk to, there is basically just farm land. I can’t make it to the city, but I have thought on doing a walk-hike to Seattle or Portland and not come back, that is if I cannot get my drivers license and car back. I have to complete probation first before I can leave Idaho for good, so this is why I am trying my best to finish up these classes as soon as possible. I have worked 54 hours a week every week for 7 months and every penny I have has gone to court fines and my license hold. I finished paying my court fines and my license hold, but now I either need to purchase a new car and my mom will not let me get one for anything less than 1500$. Meaning she has to come along on the job with me. I checked and I suppose I have taken about 15 of these classes and 15 of my DBT classes…..but Julie only told me I needed to do 10. Oh well.

I suppose I will end my story here. I wrote this mostly for myself. Like I say, I wrote this story the first or second week of class after hearing a woman tell her very sad story. It was alright on my read through so it appears to be good enough for me to turn in. I’ve had to delete some parts, but overall brings me back a lot of memories.. good and bad. Overall, I have come to the conclusion that my life is meaningless torture and nothing good will ever happen here on earth. The vision I had is lost and replaced with something terrible. Thanks for the class. I have my notes. I can use them if I need to refer to them in the future. Hopefully, I can make it out of Idaho.

[jungkoog]

I was tagged by: @momomint    thank you thank you :)

all you have to do is answer some questions and tag 20 mutuals you wanna know a bit better!

nicknames: other than frequently used petnames I’ve never had many nicknames, my birth name is interesting enough as it is. Any nicknames I got were like.... dres or dresi and ngl i never liked them, i think those sound ugly but then within the past few years some friends of mine dropped the r and made it dez and i love it so much. they sometimes will call me dezzy, but it’s rare

gender: i’m a woman

star sign: i only remember my sun sign which is gemini. watch out

height: i never fuckin know for sure but i think it’s like 5′5 or 167cm. I THINK

time rn: 2:40 am

last thing i googled: GMT 0   ..... i just needed to revise ok

favorite bands: this question is so hard because I go through SERIOUS phases, I am the definition of fickle. but BTS*** (obviously), Pearl Jam, The Smashing Pumpkins, RADWIMPS, Seventeen, Rage Against The Machine, moumoon, The Cranberries, LIVE, Third Eye Blind, Weezer, She Keeps Bees, Nada Surf, Foo Fighters, blur, Guns & Roses, Sublime, Galileo Galilei, SPYAIR, etc...... the brunt of what i’ve been listening to for the past like 6 months tho is kpop as a whole and radwimps tbh so this isn’t a good representation. i also listen to a lot of rap but it’s generally not by any specific artist it’s just.... whatever song im liking at the time

fave soloists: CL, Nicki Minaj, Beyonce, 2pac, M.I.A

song stuck in my head: omg ok so lmao........ good girls by 5sos. kill me

last movie i watched: i think big hero 6 ?

last show i watched: idk some shitty crime doc on netflix

when did you create ur blog: not too long ago um.... ? a month ago? i dont know for sure

what do you post: BTS almost entirely, maybe some svt thrown in there

when did your blog reach its peak?: lmao idk not yet i hope

do you have other blogs: i have another that i’ve had since i was 14

do you get asks regularly: nope

why did you choose your url: ah well... i snagged this url when I was in the midst of being disgustingly smitten with jjk, i think i’ve calmed down quite a bit now but it was intense

following: 242

posts: 1,003

hogwarts house: according to pottermore I am slytherin

pokemon team: I think I was valor? 

fave colors: i truly don’t know

avg hours of sleep: it’s been horrible lately. I used to have hypersomnia lmao and now i get like 5 hours a night. im constantly dead

lucky numbers: lmao im shrouded by bad luck but lets just pretend I have some lucky things.... 3 and 13 just to be edgy 

fave characters: wow this is HARD um ok im gonna try: Violet Durn from Feed by M.T. Anderson (this fav is from when I was FIFTEEN but she made a lasting impression), Ringer from the 5th wave (THE BOOK pls. i barely remember tbh i think i just remember her because i had a bit of a crush. i was like 16 or 17 let me live), Zuko & Toph & Mei from Avatar, SO MANY FIRE EMBLEM CHARACTERS ITS TOO HARD TO NAME THEM ALL, suga & tanaka & nishinoya & kuro from haikyuu, Ginko from mushishi... ill stop here but let me just add komasan from yokai watch lmao

what am i wearing now?: hoodie and pyjamas

how many blankets do u sleep w: usually 2 depending on the season

dream job: bye

dream trip: you know what.... i dont know

@seokjinschopsticks @sftae @je0n @gooddaybybts @95-kth @jeongguxk @cuteguk @yoognsgf @prettypjm @velvethoseok @yoongitaes @ahjiminie @notjhope @levizoe @happyjeon @cheol @poutypjm @pjmksj @jiminiefloof @youngforevers @yoongiski @ktaejin @innohurry 

[downeystarkjr]

Killian Jones (CS pre-wedding one-shot)

Summary: A short one shot where Killian decides to spend the night before his wedding on his ship, rather than his bachelor party. 

Also available on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10101821 

After a deep lingering kiss to his soul mate's lips, Killian was banished from Emma. It was the night before their wedding and the Nolan’s were eager to ensure no Royal Wedding tradition was broken. Other than how their daughter was to be wed to a pirate captain. He may not have been their initial choice to be Emma's suitor but during the time her parents got to know him, even David was more than willing to give the pirate his blessing for Emma’s hand in marriage.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave Killian,” Emma uttered against her fiancé’s lips with a smile, knowing the next time they saw each other they would about to start a new life together as man and wife. Where she would be taking his name and they would be making their wedding vows. Marriage was not something she thought was possible for her until the day Killian surprised her with a proposal at the restaurant where they spent their first date. And Emma certainly never imagined her True Love was going to be Captain Hook, the man who was more than the villain he was depicted as in the story of Peter Pan. “Do we really need to keep to this tradition?”

“Unfortunately, your parents will hardly accept anything else, however you can be assured love that I’ll be missing you until we meet again at the altar,” the pirate replied after kissing back, running his fingers through Emma’s gorgeous natural blonde hair. “And don’t worry, I have no intention of getting drunk tonight,” he assured. “Rum won’t get in the way of our upcoming union tomorrow,” Killian vowed and was about to lean forward and kiss his bride to be before David put his hands on his shoulders, pulling the captain away from the Saviour.

“That’s quite enough of that Hook, it isn’t your wedding night yet,” David remarked in a no-nonsense town that the engaged couple knew it was better not to argue with him.

Emma chuckled with a small roll of her eyes at her husband-to-be’s smirk in reaction to David’s warning. She could tell how excited Killian was for the next night and the day’s events. Emma was excited too, she was actually going to be a wife. The Saviour and the pirate were just one night away from their happy ending.

“Don’t be so disappointed Swan, I’ll make up for it tomorrow. Have fun tonight love, I’ll miss you,” Killian joked and managed to place one last kiss to Emma’s cheek before David tried to usher his future son-in-law out of the house.

“I’ll miss you too Killian, goodnight, I love you,” Emma giggled as she called out to her pirate, waving at him with the widest smile on her face. The sort of smile that only ever appeared because of Killian. “And dad come on, it was just a kiss, Killian and I have kissed countless times,” and a lot more than kissing but of course she wasn’t going to scar her father with the thought of what Killian and Emma got up to when they were together at home, alone. “Surely, one more kiss wasn’t going to hurt, right?”

“Emma, it’s tradition for the bride and groom to spend the night before the wedding apart,” David reminded, having explained all about the royal wedding traditions many times during the planning of the matrimonial event. “Besides your mother has arranged something for you tonight at Granny’s in celebration for tomorrow and I promised her I would you get you there on time.”

Meanwhile, Killian was joined by his crew who had arranged a night in the Rabbit Hole for their captain’s last night of freedom. Little did they know that Killian didn’t see marrying Emma as losing his freedom but the next step in the couple having a future together.

“To Captain Hook!” his men cheered, toasting Killian with pints of lager while he just stuck to his trusty flask of rum. The pirate captain didn’t intend on drinking too much, not wanting to be hungover when he met Emma at the altar the next day.

“You’re going to love what we’ve arranged for you Cap’n, she should be here soon,” Mr Smee grinned widely, his words causing Killian to further question why he let his crew arrange a bachelor party for him. “Shall I get us some more drinks sir?” the first mate asked, looking forward to the night ahead.

“No Smee, this round is on me, I’ll get them,” Killian insisted, patting Mr Smee’s shoulder with a wide yet false smile as he stood up. Being with his crew made the pirate realise how much he had changed for the better. No longer did he enjoy celebrating by drinking with his men in a tavern or bar or spending the night with a woman he would never encounter again. Which was why he really did not want to be in the Rabbit Hole when the woman Smee and the others had ordered for him. Emma, his True Love was the only woman Killian wanted to be intimate with, spending the night before his wedding in the company of another woman was bad form.

“But sir-“ Mr Smee spoke out, turning round to Killian while starting to get up from his chair.

“Smee, the celebrations of tonight may have caused one fact to slip your mind, let me remind you, I’m still the captain,” The pirate stopped the other man from completing his sentence. Using a sterner tone with an equally firm expression written on his face. One that Smee knew all too well.

“Yes Cap’n,” he replied in a quiet mumble, looking away from his captain’s glare and sat back down to finish the rest of his pint of alcohol.

Killian just rolled his eyes as he finally left the table and went over to the bar counter. “Give the men over there the same again,” he explained, paying for the drinks with a few of the many doubloons he had in his possession. Storybrooke was the only town in the Land without Magic that was happy to accept such currency. “And if they ask where I am, I’ll appreciate it if you don’t tell them, mate,” the pirate added with a small smirk.

“Of course sir, and good luck for tomorrow,” the barman nodded as he went to sort out the drinks the pirate ordered for the men he was walking out on. Since Emma was the Saviour and the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White, everyone in town knew who she was and that she was marrying Killian.

“Bloody hell…” Killian breathed out with a heavy sigh, taking in the night air. He greatly disliked the small time he spent in the inn with the men who made up his crew during his pirating days. What even possessed him to even agree to their idea? Even if there used to be a time Killian saw their plans as the perfect way to celebrate an occasion. “Ah there’s the only maiden I’d love to spend the night if I can’t be with my Swan,” he smiled fondly when he caught sight of the Jolly Roger as he made his way over to the peace of the docks. Loving the scent of the salty sea air and the wonderful sight of his beloved ship in the moonlight ocean. “How are you, old girl?” Killian asked, lightly caressing the vessel when he stepped aboard. If being in Emma’s company was not an option, there was nowhere better than the Jolly Roger.

“And I want you to know, even though I’m marrying Emma tomorrow, you’ll always be important to me my dear,” the pirate spoke aloud, knowing full well that the ship couldn’t reply. It was a habit of endearment Killian had developed when he was alone. “We’ve had quite the adventures over the centuries together, haven’t we?” he chuckled softly, the ship had been his one constant in his life for all those years before falling for Emma. “And tomorrow you’ll be here with me as I take on another adventure.” Killian added, his smile growing wider as he looked over the top deck that would be littered with wedding decorations the next morning. He couldn’t think of anything better than marrying his true love on the Jolly Roger.

After spending some time with his flask of rum and the oh so calming view of the moonlight over the serene ocean waves, Killian decided to head down to his quarters below deck. Once there, he took out a small folded piece of paper from a locked drawer in his desk. It was centuries old and the edges browned and worn over the time, however, the drawing it contained was kept in perfect condition. He didn’t mean to tear up but the sight of his first love brought a tear to his eyes as he studied the perfect drawing of Milah he had kept since it was made. “I’ve never once forgotten about you my lady,” the pirate whispered, recalling what he had addressed Milah as when they first met. “If only we had the chance to meet one last time…” That would have been a strong possibility, had Milah not been forced into the River of Lost Souls. To know of her fate in the Underworld, it was as if Killian had lost her all over again. Milah was his first love, the woman he sought vengeance for, for centuries, and the woman whose name was etched in the form of a tattoo to his skin.

“I wonder what you thought of Emma when you met her, after losing you, she’s the only one who has ever given my life such happiness and meaning,” Killian continued, looking down to the drawing of Milah in his hand. “When you passed, I spent every waking moment consumed by my inner darkness and my desire for revenge to the point where I was willing to die for my vengeance,” he frowned, his heart still filled with guilt for the crimes of his past. Killian was aware he still had a long way to go before he could become someone he could be proud of, but he couldn’t have been more grateful that Emma had accepted him and loved him. Like he loved her.

“But all that changed with Emma, with her I’ve found something to live for, a future rather than an end. I never once thought finding love again would be a possibility for me, but with Emma, I’ve found everything my heart has been yearning for,” the pirate was unable to wipe the smile from his face, picturing his bride in her wedding dress and walking down the aisle to him. To marry him. The best thing about it was that it was no longer just a dream, but his and Emma’s reality. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’m finally happy again Milah, like you always wanted me to be.”

Killian had lost too many in his life and almost Emma by not being able to join her as she left from the Underworld. But they now had a second chance and if one thing was for sure, he damn well intended to have a future, a happy ever after with Emma, his Swan, his wife. His Saviour.

[gossipnetwork-blog]

25 TV Events to Get Excited About in 2018

New Post has been published on http://gossip.network/25-tv-events-to-get-excited-about-in-2018/

25 TV Events to Get Excited About in 2018

New year, new TV to look forward to.

Now that it’s finally 2018, it’s time to cut your losses with the fall shows you’ve already grown tired and make some room on your DVRs for everything the new year has to offer because there’s a lot to get excited about.

Kicking things off on New Year’s Day with the return of Arie Luyendyk Jr. as ABC’s latest Bachleor, we’ve narrowed down the 25 TV events worth getting excited about over the next 12 months from a surprisingly deep pool of worthy candidates. Seriously, there’s a lot of promising stuff coming our way. Read on and start programming your DVR!

ABC/Craig Sjodin

Bachelor‘s Big Winter

Kudos to the Bachelor franchise for trying something new in 2018. First, they went back a few years to the pre-Instagram days to find their newest leading man, Arie Luyendyk Jr., and we’re also being treated to what appears to be an international hot tub party known as Winter Games. It all sounds like exactly the fresh Bachelor air we need, and we can’t wait to see how it all goes down, starting January 1.

Freeform

Freeform Gets Grown-ish

It’s time for Zoey Johnson to fly the coop and strike out on her own…-ish. In this Freeform spinoff of Black-ish, debuting January 3, Yara Shahidi takes center stage as the eldest Johnson child embarks on her freshman year at California University with a diverse group of friends helping her navigate her first taste of adult life. Look out for guest appearances from parents Dre and Bow as Anthony Anderson and Tracee Ellis Ross are set to make occasional guest appearances in the comedy, which hails from the mothership’s creator Kenya Barris. 

CBS

Star Trek: Discovery‘s Return

The spore drive is done for and the U.S.S. Discovery is…missing. The finale ended with Lorca (Jason Isaacs) and his team including Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) evading death and destruction at the hands of the Klingons, only to find themselves some place very unfamiliar. Could our heroes be in the Mirror Universe? Whatever happens, beam us up for more adventures on January 7.

VH1

Tyra Returns on Top

Sorry Rita Ora, but Tyra Banks is reclaiming her America’s Next Top Model throne. Banks is returning on January 9 to host the revived series on VH1 after only serving as executive producer on Cycle 23. This year, expect new terms from Tyra and new competitors: there’s no longer an age limit.

Showtime

Showtime’s Trip to The Chi

If creator Lena Waithe‘s Emmy-winning episode of Master of None, “Thanksgiving,” is any indication, her new Showtime drama is, hands down, one of 2018’s can’t-miss debuts. The Chi, premiering January 7, is billed as a timely coming-of-age story that will explore the humanity behind the headlines sensationalizing the South Side of Chicago. Expect this to be an early Emmys frontrunner.

The CW

A New Superhero

Luke Cage may have come before him, but Black Lightning feels like the first superhero series to finally truly speak to the Black Lives Matter movement. The CW’s latest DC Comics adaptation, starring Cress Williams as the titular hero and premiering Jan. 16, feels timely in a way that few of the network’s other comic book offerings have. If nothing else, it’s just refreshing to have a CW superhero who feels like a damn adult.

FX

American Crime Story Goes Glam

People v. O.J. was great, but The Assassination of Gianni Versace brings a new level of glamour and intrigue to one of last year’s most talked about new series with one of the biggest crimes fashion has ever suffered. Darren Criss plays the serial killer we never before knew we needed him to play, and Penélope Cruz is straight-up iconic as Donatella Versace. We are so there come January 17.  

VH1

Mama Ru Gathers More All-Stars

While some of the queens returning for another chance at the crown barely fit in the label of “star,” let alone “All-Star”—Aja, anyone?—our excitement at finally having RuPaul and her glorious queens back is off the charts. RuPaul’s Drag Race All-Stars 3 returns to its new network (VH1) on January 25 to see who will join the ranks of legendary All-Stars and All-Stars 2 winners Chad Michaels and Alaska, respectively. Who are we rooting for? We’ll never tell. (OK, we’ll tell. That crown belongs to Trixie Mattel. Don’t @ us.)

Mindy Tucker/HBO

2 Dope Queens Come to HBO

What’s better than listening to your favorite podcast? Watching it come to life in a series of HBO specials, that’s what! Jessica Williams and Phoebe Robinson bring their acclaimed podcast 2 Dope Queens to the cable network beginning February 2 for four hour-long specials taped before a live audience, tackling topics like “Black Nerds aka Blerds” and “Hot Peen” alongside guests including Jon Stewart and Tituss Burgess. 

Netflix

Netflix Explores Altered Carbon

Netflix is going big with this original series, an adaptation the classic cyberpunk noir novel by Richard K. Morgan. Set more than 300 years in a future where society has been transformed by new technology, consciousness can be digitized, human bodies are interchangeable, and death is no longer permanent, the sci-fi series stars Joel Kinnaman as Takeshi Kovacs, the lone surviving soldier in a group of elite interstellar warriors who were defeated in an uprising against the new world order. Altered Carbon, dropping on the streaming site on February 2, looks expensive and confusing as hell. Count us in.

CBS

Big Brother Turns Celebrity

Already a staple in the U.K., Celebrity Big Brother is finally making its way across the pond for a special edition on CBS beginning February 7. Which of our D-list celebs will sign up to duke it out in the Big Brother house with Julie Chen narrating their every move? We haven’t the slightest idea and we can’t wait to find out.

Lifetime

UnREAL Flips the Script

Did you know that it’s been nearly 18 months since UnREAL signed off for season two? After that creative debacle, you may have pushed the provocative Lifetime series, a fictional account of the inner-workings of a Bachelor-esque reality series, out of your mind. But queens Constance Zimmer and Shiri Appleby deserve better, and it looks like the time off may have helped deliver a third series worthy of their estimable talents. After tackling their first African-American suitor in S2, they’re going the Bachelorette route this time around with Masters of Sex alum Caitlin FitzGerald assuming the role of Everlasting’s (the show within the show) new feminist “suitress.” Could Quinn and Rachel have finally met their match? Tune in on February 26 to find out. 

Good Girls Go Bad

What do you get when you take a Parks and Recreation fave (Retta), a Parenthood breakout (Mae Whitman), and a Mad Men diva (Christina Hendricks), cast them as three suburban moms tired of their lives, and have them rob a local supermarket. Why, the recipe for our most anticipated show of 2018, that’s what. Is it February 26 yet?

Netflix

A Queer Comeback

All things just keep getting better thanks to Netflix’s upcoming revival of the seminal reality series Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Does the new Fab Five (from left to right, Bobby Berk, Karamo Brown, Antoni Porowski, Jonathan Van Ness and Tan France) have what it takes to make us forget about Carson Kressley, Ted Allen and the rest of the OGs? Come February, we’ll find out.

CBS

Round Two of The Good Fight

It’s been a long few months without Diane Lockhart (Christine Baranski) dropping an eff-bomb on our screens. The first season The Good Fight was politically charged and intriguing and the real world hasn’t gotten any less crazy, so Robert and Michelle King have a lot of fodder for new episodes, beginning March 4. Plus Audra McDonald will be a series regular this year, so our hopes of a musical episode just got all the more higher.

ABC

American Idol Returns From the Dead

Did we really want a revival of American Idol so soon after its 2016 (supposed) series finale? Not even slightly. Are we planning to tune in on March 11 to see if Katy Perry was really worth her rumored $25 million salary? You betcha. 

NBC

A New TV Musical Rises

Glee meets Friday Night Lights this spring on NBC, with Moana (Auli’i Cravalho), Ted Mosby (Josh Radnor) and Rosie Perez (Rosie Perez) in the starring roles of this Jason Katims-produced high school drama set (where else) in a working class town. This one could either be one of the year’s biggest successes or biggest flame-outs. Tune in on March 13 and judge for yourself.

ABC

Roseanne‘s Return

Revival fatigue is very real, but we for sure will not be able to look away from the return of Roseanne Barr‘s iconic comedy Roseanne, premiering March 27, for two big reasons: 1. Curiosity about how the show explains away the series finale that had Roseanne Conner revealing Dan (John Goodman) was dead and she made the entire series up as a writer and 2. Laurie Metcalf. Metcalf is one of the best actors working today. Any chance to get weekly doses of her we will take.

Hulu

Handmaid’s Trip to the Colonies

Where do you go after being the most-buzzed about new series and winning a slew of awards? That’s what we want to know, The Handmaid’s Tale! Season two, debuting sometime in April, is already well underway and details are being kept under wraps. We do know there will be more Alexis Bledel—sorry, that’s Emmy winner Alexis Bledel to you—and previously unseen parts of Gilead. “What I can tell you, and I’m not joking one bit, is it’s knocking me out where this story is going,” Ann Dowd told E! News. “I literally read the scripts and I think, ‘Oh my god.’ The ideas are genius and so unpredictable and harrowing,” she said. “Plus you see the worlds that you weren’t exposed to before: the Colonies, what that whole world is; those who make it to Canada, what happens there; the pregnancy, how that is coming along. It’s a phenomenally well-written show.”

Bravo

RHONY‘s Extra Dose of Real-World Drama

Arguably the best Real Housewives series on Bravo (go ahead and try to say another is better), Real Housewives of New York City is set to return with last year’s top-tier cast and you know there’s going to be laughs—and drama. Luann de Lesseps was arrested just before Christmas and charged with battery of an officer, disorderly intoxication, resisting arrested with violence and crimes against another person. She’s now in a treatment center. Bravo’s cameras are just itching to start recording and we cannot wait to see what they capture.

John P. Johnson/HBO

A Return Trip to Westworld

Season one felt like nothing more than a prelude, an introductory course to this world where nothing is as it seems and everyone watching wised up to the twists down the road much sooner than anyone writing expected. But now that the robots have taken over, making the demented amusement park at the center of this HBO sci-fi/western pastiche a true free-for-all, we can’t wait to see what happens next when Westworld finally returns this spring.But it better involve Maeve (Thandie Newton) kicking some ass.

FX

Atlanta, at Long Last

One of 2016’s most surreal and delightful new shows, Atlanta feels like it’s been gone forever. Apparently creator and star Donald Glover was too busy being very famous and employable to give us more in 2017, so we’ll take whatever he can give us in 2018. 

Netflix

Robin Wright’s House of Cards Reign

Robin Wright has always been the best thing about House of Cards and now she gets to truly own the show for its sixth and final season. After allegations of sexual misconduct by Kevin Spacey came to light, the status of the Netflix series was in question. After deliberation, Netflix and Media Rights Capital said the show must go on¬—without Spacey. Wright’s Claire Underwood ended season five in power, now we get to see her wield it triumphantly.

The CW

Sabrina Gets Spooky

Inspired by the success of Riverdale‘s dark take on Archie Comics, WB and Netflix are teaming up to create the show of our teenage dreams. The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (you know, the teenage witch) is already our favorite thing to binge and we know absolutely nothing about it yet. Even if we only get a cast in 2018, we are here for it. 

Sipa

Feud Goes Royal

After Feud‘s spot-on casting for Bette and Joan, we can’t wait to see who Ryan Murphy lands in the lead roles for the anthology’s upcoming second installment, Charles and Diana. We have our thoughts on who will fill the royal shoes of Prince Charles and Princess Diana, among others, but we’re sure that Murphy will still manage to surprise us. 

Which TV event are you most excited about for 2018? Sound off in the comments below!

(E!, Bravo and NBC are all part of the NBCUniversal family.)

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#Power S4 Ep 8 "It's Done" Recap & Review

Episode Rating Scale: (9) Excellent

Two things irritated me about this episode, Dre, and Proctor. These two are unbelievable. It shows how you can't trust no one and loyalty is hard to find. It shows how you have to look out for self. Let's talk Power! 

Terry wakes up to Tarsha gone and Ghost entering his place. At first, I thought he was on to him and Tarsha. I wonder how he was going to act when he finds out. Would he be mad? And why the hell Terry has them little boy brief on..Lol. Don't he know grown men wear boxers or boxer briefs..lol?  Ghost wanted to know if there were any new criminal charges on him and Proctor. Tommy plans to go to war with the Munez family. His offer hasn't gotten a reply. You can see Dre doesn't want to go war. He questions Tommy about if Jason knows him about to go to war. Not a good idea Dre. Tommy was not going to accept the help telling him what to do. Mike rolls up on Saks. Saks was a little uneasy, but he kept his cool. Now that they suspect Mike killed Greg; none of them are safe. Mike doesn't know who to trust at this point. It looks like nobody is trusting anyone and everyone is connected some way and some how. Interestingly, they all have secrets that they want to keep hidden.  

Tarsha is daydreaming. Kisha was yelling her name and Tarsha mind somewhere. Tarsha was about to tell Kisha about her affair with Terry. Raina interrupts their conversation. Tarsha sees the bruise on Raina's arm. Raina covers for Tariq. She is such a good sister. Raina talks to Tarsha about changing school. I guess Raina needs her distance right now. Tariq text Brains.  It Looks like Tariq is going down the same path as his father. Ghost meets up with Council Tate played by Larenz Tate in the old neighborhood.  The Council Tate and Dre to the team of a new development for the neighborhood. Ghost was unaware that Dre would be there. Hey, he said he changed Dre life but they both knees deep in the streets.  Donavan tells Saks and Angela about  Mike showing up at his house. We all know Mike went there to kill him, but Donavan knows too. Angela, Saks, and Donavan are brainstorming how to bring Mike down. They are all on the same page of believing he is the mole. But, Mike has covered his tracks pretty well. Without proof, they have no case against him. Even though Angela presented the phone Ghost took from Hugo, they can't use it. Hugo was killed by Tommy before they could get answers from him. The only lead Ghost got to the mole was that phone. Even though Angela called the number on the phone and knew someone answered from the Feds headquarters, she didn't hear a voice. All the evidence they have has been obtaining my malice. They have no proof. 

Ghost, Dre, and the Council Tate walk the neighborhood. Council Tate wants to build a hub for the neighborhood. A place where the community is working in their community. The Queen Childs Project. The council man has first to clean up the neighborhood from violence and drug dealing. Ghost wants in on his project. But the council person doesn't know about Ghost other life. How can Ghost clean up the neighborhood when his best friend is the connect to the drugs on the street? This is going to be interesting. The Council Tate take a phone call. That's Ghost time to asked Dre why he didn't tell him about coming to the meeting? How much does Ghost trust Dre? That thought truly been on mind. Dre better stay on Tariq's good side because Tariq can end his life quickly. Ghost question Dre about Tommy business. Dre tells Ghost everything. He tells him about the meeting with the Jimenez Family and how Tommy about to start a war. Ghost was shocked Tommy meet with them. Dre informs Ghost about Tommy's offer and how they have agreed to his terms. Ghost know a war isn't good for anyone but also not good for this new project. Dre tells Ghost to talk to Tommy.

Tommy visits Kate. He asked his mother about his father. Kate played that off very well. She used Tommy business for the reason, Teresi, lying to him. Tommy believes Kate for now.  Dre meets out with the other leaders. None of them want to go to war especially not with the Jimenez. Cristobal and Dre are still working together. They have to figure out away to get two steps ahead of Tommy. Dre plan isn't working out the way he planned. Julio's death more drama so far.  

Tommy and Ghost meet up. Ghost asked Tommy about this war. But Tommy dropped the bomb about Teresi being his father. He asked Ghost did he know. Ghost didn't know, but the thought crossed his mind in the episode where Teresi gave him that phone. Ghost funny tho, "y'all both got blue eyes. I don't know." Lol.  Ghost not worried about Tommy's absent father come back to my life drama, he wants to know about this war. Tommy tells him about his offer and how he told them he killed Lobos. They still haven't made it right.  Ghost agreed to meet with the Jimenez. Ghost doesn't get it; he is never fully out. Ghost creeps up on Proctor. Proctor is still the other side of James. Proctor meets Ghost. Ghost asks Proctor about his meeting with Mock. Ghost can't trust anyone and Proctor is on that list. Tommy killing Bailey was truly a bad move. But Ghost is right, Tommy should never let Proctor get rid of Bailey's body and that laptop. Proctor explains that Mock just question him about Bailey coming to see him and being his last call. He swears to Ghost he didn't tell Proctor anything. I like Proctor, but I don't know how deep in he willing to be. I think he will turn on Ghost aka James to save his self. Only loyalty is Ghost and Tommy to each other. Even that seems shaky at times. 

Tommy goes back to Teresi's house. He asked for Sammie, but he gets Connie. Connie question Tommy about his parents. I think Connie knows something is up with her and Tommy. She knows it's more than business. Tommy gets Connie out of her living room so he can snoop. He finds a photo album of pictures. One of the pictures must have caught his eye because he steals the picture.  Ghost and Tommy meet with the Jimenez cartel. Ghost points out the deal that was made for Julio's freedom and life has been broken. Ghost makes it clear that they killed Lobos without their business being jeopardized. The streets think the Jimenez cartel killed Lobos. If the truth comes out that it wasn't them, who will fear the Jimenez cartel? Diego Jimenez pulls out his gun. Why? What makes him think that would fear Tommy and Ghost? Neither one of them fletch. Lol. The Jimenez still didn't agree to Tommy's demands. Once Tommy and Ghost get in the car, Tommy makes it clear; if he doesn't get an answer by morning, they are going to war.  With Dre being the new distro, he is in the car and obtaining this information. Dre has his agenda. Alicia Jimenez is leaving her building, and Dre has this shady look on his face. What is Dre thinking of doing? His next move will be what? Dre has made a come up this season. Too bad it's a shady come up. I think Dre and Tommy could be a real team. However, Dre can't be trusted. 

Saks meets up with Mike. He tells Mike, Angela thinks he is the mole. He tells him Angela plan on going to Mock with her information and a tape. Is this a setup or is Saks helping him? Instead of drinking with Saks, Mike takes off. Where is he headed? Tommy confronts Kate again. Tommy has proof Kate is lying this time. The picture Tommy stole was of him and his father. All this time, Tommy thought his father was dead. Finding out Teresi is his father make sense. You can understand why Tommy is so wild. It's in his DNA. Lol. Tommy is so upset with Kate. She tries to explain. She tells him Teresi left them with nothing. What is the real story? Was Kate having an affair with a married man? How will this affect Tommy? Kate tells Tommy he can't trust Tony Teresi. He storms out of Kate's house. Well, Kate, he won't be forgiving you anytime soon.

Mike shows up at Angela's apartment. I guess he has to kill her now. So Saks did set him up. Mike fell for the bait. This was their plan. Mike tells Angela he knows she thinks he the mole. Mike stayed so calm while he spoke to Angela. Mike feels Angela has no proof to back her story. Well, he was wrong. Everything Mike did she pinned pointed Mike's every moved. She even has photos and missing calls from the call log. She asked Mike what did Lobos have on him. Mike confessed. He explained Lobos was going to kill his daughter. The FBI is listening. Mike pulls a gun on Angela.   Angela disconnects her wire. Mike was about to tell all he knows about her as well. Mike was going to shoot Angela, but she shoots him instead. Why did she pull the wire? Did she help him by telling him he is a witness, not a murderer? WTH??? 

Kate visits Teresi in jail. It was a short conversation. She tells Teresi to stay away from Tommy. So Kate was messing with a married man. She made that clear by threatening to tell Connie about her affair with him and Tommy. It was an agreement for Teresi to not be in Tommy's life. Wow!!! Tommy's parents are some airheads. Teresi doesn't take well to Kate threats; he makes it clear.. don't let prison think I can't touch you.  Kate didn't care about that either. She told Teresi to stay away from her son. Tommy is grown If he wants to get to know his father. She can't do anything about it. 

Tariq is about to Rob this house with Brains. He will be the bait to get inside the house. As he plays the role as a young man selling something, the lady is impressed by him. Once he gets in the house, he gives Brains a nod that she is alone.  Brains and his friend enter the house.  Tariq takes a punch for the show. This situation went wrong. Tariq didn't leave as he was told. He went upstairs and walked into the lady being almost raped. Number one rule, don't say names when committing a crime. Tariq yells for Brains to tell him to stop. Fatal mistake. Brains shoot the woman in the head. Tariq runs out and keeps running. Tariq life is indeed spinning out of control. Sadly, his parents just don't know. He is drinking syrup, angry, feel betrayed, abused his sister, not going to school and robbing houses.  Now add the accessory to murder on the list. Kanan has truly added to Tariq heading down the wrong path. 

Mike becomes a witness for immunity. Mock doesn't want that deal. Mike being a dirty agent will raise flags for all his cases he closed. With that being said, Mock said he would see what he can do. Terry arrives at Tarsha and Ghost's place. He brings the good news that an arrest has been made. The charges against Ghost will be ultimately dismissed against him. Tarsha is excited, and she hugs Ghost. Terry was standing there watching. What was going through his mind? Lol. Even Tarsha started to feel uncomfortable. Ghost thanks, Terry and take off to tell Council Tate of the good news. Terry tells Tarsha about Ghost coming to his place. He gives her back her earring. Terry and Tarsha make plans for dinner. How long will this affair last?

Proctor, Tommy and Ghost talk about killing Mike. None of them know what Mike know and what he can tell. Mike has worked for Lobos a long time. Does he know James is Ghost? Does he know Tommy and Ghost killed Lobos? Does he know Ghost and Tommy been running a criminal organization? What does Mike know? Due to Mike being moved soon, they have to work fast to kill him. They are talking about killing a US Attorney in a federal prison, and they are crazy. Tommy wants to use Teresi to kill Mike. They have no other option even though Teresi can't be trusted. Proctor is out of the loop of Teresi being Tommy's father. Tommy makes the call to Teresi. With no questions asked, Teresi helps Tommy. All he needed was a name. Will this come back to haunt them? Does Teresi have hidden intentions with telling Tommy he is his father? After all these years, why does Tommy matter to him now? Dre meets with the Jimenez cartel. He tells them Tommy going to war is wrong. He offers them the nightclubs to sell their drugs. Alicia doesn't trust Dre being that he is there turning on Tommy, the connect. But she agrees to his deal. To by Dre time, she gives Tommy what he wants. Dre wants to be the biggest drug dealer in New York. The drug game has no loyalty. Somebody has to fall for some one to get to the top. Dre calls Tommy with the good news...NO WAR!! 

Just when I thought Proctor was apart of the team, he proves he can't be trusted. Proctor never destroyed the laptop that Belo to Bailey. You can only wonder did he destroy the body. Ghost meet with Council Tate. He tells him about the good news of cleaning that street corner of the 718. With Tommy in charge, he can get whatever corners cleaned he wants. Tariq comes home like he just didn't play apart in a person losing their life. He didn't look shocked up no more. Ghost introduced Tariq to Council Tate. He brags about this good kid Tariq use to be. Like father like son, Tariq living a double life too.

How bad ass is Angela? She set Mike up to get killed. Telling Terry about Mike and his whereabouts was the door opener she needed. She knew Terry would tell Ghost. She knew Terry would tell Proctor and Proctor would tell Ghost. ither way, she knew Ghost would kill Mike. He was too much of a casualty.

I just love this season of Power. The came back with a vengeance. Regardless of the leak episode scandal, Power is still pulling in big ratings and got people talking. If you been missing episodes or missed this episode, tune in on Comcast On Demand or visit starz.com. 

Be the first to like, share and comment. Subscribe to sueboohscorner.com or visit Sueboohs Corner TV Series Page on Facebook for your latest talk tv of your favorite TV shows.  

Editor: Lattice Johnson

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‘Things Just Ain’t the Same’: HIP-HOP’s Reconstruction of the Gangster Rap Identity

Talib Kweli performing in Brooklyn/Red Bull Experiment (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Gangster rap, or hardcore rap, is generally considered a sub genre of the larger category of rap music, which itself is a subcategory of hip-hop. Gangster rap is differentiable from other rap music in that it makes use of images of urban life associated with crime (Haugen, 2). According to the Encyclopedia Britannica definition of gangster rap, the top four images associated with the genre are violence, drugs, materialism and sexual promiscuity. 

Gangster Rappers as Defining the Hip-Hop Social Group

As the hip-hop movement has gained recognition throughout the United States, it has established itself as one of the fastest growing social groups anywhere. In the late 1990s immediately following the murders of both Tupac Shakur and Christopher Wallace, two nationally known gangster rappers, a propaganda campaign escalated against rap music and the hip-hop culture (Slaughter). Although gangster rap only represented a small percentage of the hip-hop culture at the time, all hip-hop and rap music was instantly stereotyped negatively as being “gangter-like”. Why? Well, this gangster version of hip-hop was the highest selling and most recognized form of hip-hop music among the majority class. And many critics have determined that this is because America is in love with sex, drugs and violence (Whaley).

Hip-Hop’s Rejection of Inferior Social Group Status

Henri Tajfel, a social psychologist who developed a theory of inter-group relations and social change, argues that members of a social group deemed inferior by a majority class can either accept or reject their inferior position in society. If a group refuses to accept its inferior position in society as just, it will attempt as a group to change things (Coates, 8-9). A large number of hip-hop artists have used their musical lyrics to reject the inferior social status placed upon them by the majority class.

The Reconstruction of the Gangster Identity

I have found that hip-hop artists use lyrics, both musical and poetic, to redefine the negatives characteristics given to their culture by the majority class, and in the process, reconstruct the gangster identity. By examining these hip-hop and gangster rap lyrics as text, I will show ways in which the lyrics attempt to reconstruct the stereotyped gangster rap identity by examining different views of violence, drugs, materialism and sexual promiscuity. In the end, one tends to wonder: Who exactly are the real gangsters?

Violence

That the hip-hop culture represents gangster-like violence is perhaps the biggest disputed claim amongst hip-hop artists. In order to disprove this claim, many hip-hop artists have pointed to the violence that exists within the majority social group, and how it leads to violence all over the world.

In “Violence”, 2 Pac demonstrates his belief that violence was prevalent long before gangster rap existed:

I told em fight back, attack on society

If this is violence, then violent's what I gotta be

If you investigate you'll find out where it's comin’ from

Look through our history, America's the violent one

Here, the poet points to American society as “the violent one” and that he has to be violent in order to “fight back.” 

In “Who Knew”, Eminem showed a similar viewpoint by expressing his belief that violence is a common occurrence in American society, yet not challenged in genres outside of the urban environment:

So who's bringin’ the guns in this country?  

I couldn't sneak a plastic pellet gun through customs over in London

And last week, I seen a Schwarzaneggar movie

Where he's shootin’ all sorts of these bad guys with an Uzi

Here, the poet questions the existence of violence in a country that allows firearms and violent movies.

In “Casualties of War”, Rakim blames the United States government, specifically its Head of State, as the group causing the violence in society with their war-like ways:

I'ma get back to New York in one piece

But I'm bent in the sand that is hot as the city streets

Sky lights up like fireworks blind me

Bullets, whistlin’ over my head remind me...

President Bush said attack

Flashback to Nam, I might not make it back

In this text, the poet refers to our country’s decision to go to war as an example of the violence that exists amongst the majority social class.

In “The Watcher”, Dr. Dre redefines the negative characteristic of violence by pointing to the police force as the source of violence, and therefore, referring to them as “gangster-like”:

Things just ain't the same for gangstas

Cops is anxious to put people in handcuffs

They wanna hang us, see us dead or enslave us

Keep us trapped in the same place we raised in

Then they wonder why we act so outrageous

Run around stressed out and pull out gauges

Cause everytime you let the animal out cages

It's dangerous, to people who look like strangers

Here, the poet accuses the majority class of keeping them “trapped in the same place we raised in” and that the perceived violence is only due to the introduction of “people who look like strangers.”

These are examples of how hip-hop artists redefine the image of violence by showing how it exists or was created within the majority social group. 

Drugs

Another common disputed stereotype of hip-hop artists is their use and distribution of illegal drugs. In attempts to redefine this negative characteristic, many hip-hop artists have pointed at the majority social group as the facilitator of drug abuse.

In “Justify My Thug”, Jay-Z speaks directly to members of government, raising questions about who has made the availability and use of these drugs possible:

Mr. President, there's drugs in our residence

Tell me what you want me to do, come break bread with us

Mr. Governor, I swear there's a cover up

Every other corner there's a liquor store - what is up?

In this example, the poet inquires as to why there is a liquor store in “every other corner” of his community.

In “I Want to Talk to You”, Nas uses the same approach to challenge the notion of drug distribution by asking his representatives what they would do in his situation:

Why y'all made it so hard, damn

People gotta go create their own job

Mr. Mayo,r imagine if this was your backyard

Mr. Governo,r imagine if it was your kids that starved 

Imagine your kids gotta sling crack to survive

Here, the poet claims that the distribution of drugs is not only an effect of the poverty that exists in his environment, but also a means of survival. 

In “Manifesto”, Talib Kweli actually accuses the government of being the body which allows drugs into the country:

Like the C.I.A. be bringin’ in crack cocaine bailin’ out of planes

With the George Bush connections, I push Reflection

Like I'm sellin’ izm, like a dealer buildin’ the system

Supply and the demand it's all capitalism

People don't sell crack cause they like to see blacks smoke

People sell crack cause they broke

In this example, the poet accuses the C.I.A. of flying drugs into the country, and again reiterates the point that it is a means of survival due to the “supply and demand” of a capitalist society.

In “Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangster”, the Geto Boys fully redefine the negative characteristic of drug distribution by accusing the President of being a drug dealer, and therefore, a gangster:

And now, a word from the President!

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta

Getting’ voted into the White House

Everything lookin’ good to the people of the world

But the Mafia family is my boss

So every now and then I owe a favor gettin' down

Like lettin' a big drug shipment through

And send 'em to the poor community

So we can bust you know who

These examples show how hip-hop artists redefine the image of being drug dealers and users by again pointing to the majority class as the creator of the drug problem in this country.

Materialism

Hip-hop music is also seen by the majority class as a genre dominated by materialism. Again, artists point back to the majority class in an attempt to redefine this negative characteristic.

In “Respiration”, Black Star points to all the wealth surrounding urban areas, and how it absorbs the lower class in materialism, making them want parts of that wealth:

Where mercenaries is paid to trade hot stock tips

For profits, thirsty criminals take pockets

Hard knuckles on the second hands of workin’ class watches

Skyscrapers is colossus, the cost of living

Is preposterous, stay alive, you play or die, no options

Here, the poet talks about various materialistic aspects of the majority class, and how the lower class must “play or die” to “stay alive.”

In “All Falls Down”, Kanye West actually blames this materialism on American society:

It seems we living the American dream

But the people highest up got the lowest self esteem

The prettiest people do the ugliest things

For the road to riches and diamond rings

In this example, the poet blames the “American dream” for materialism, saying it causes people to “do the ugliest things” for “riches and diamond rings.”

In “Los Angeles Times”, Xzibit also blames this materialism on the majority class, claiming that is what the youth are taught coming up in urban environments:

Welcome to L.A.

Where you can see the whole city burning

Cause the cops got Uzis and the dealers keep serving

And your kids ain't learning it, except this

Sex power and wealth, forget everything else

Here, the poet expresses his belief that certain aspects of materialism, including “power and wealth” are taught to children through occurrences in society.

These are examples how hip-hop artists redefine the negative characteristic of being materialistic by showing examples of how this materialism is prevalent in the majority class, and often created within that class.

Sex

And the final debated stereotype of the hip-hop social class is that they are sexually promiscuous, often leading to disrespectful treatment towards women. The poets also attempt to redefine this stereotype by blaming the core of the problem on society.

In “Pussy Galore”, the Roots claim that the country’s obsession with sex is pushed by sexually-driven marketing campaigns:

Lookin' out the limo window up at the billboards

200 miles, she was the only thing I saw

Promotin' everything, from the liquor to the nicotine

Cell phones, anti-histamines, chicken wings

You gotta show a little skin to get them listening

For real yo, the world is a sex machine

In this example, the poet retells a personal experience in which he saw sex advertisements as “promotin’ everything.” And in order to “get them listening”, he claims, “you gotta show a little skin.”

In “Get By”, Talib Kweli blames this sexual obsession on what we view on television:

The TV got us reachin’ for stars

Not the ones between Venus and Mars, 

The ones that be readin’ for parts

Some people get breast enhancements and penis enlargers

Here, the poet expresses his belief that television creates a misconception of what people should be sexually, and that contributes to the promiscuity that is being blamed on the hip-hop movement.

Hip-hop artists have used their lyrics and poetry to influence the rejection and reconstruction of the gangster identity that plagues their social class. This is accomplished through the redefining of negative characteristics assigned by the majority class. In most cases, these redefinitions include pointing to the majority class as the real holders of these negative characteristics. The redefining of these “gangster-like” images through hip-hop lyrics helps to reconstruct the gangster identity by questioning “gangster-like” behaviors and which social class actually has these behaviors. So the question presented is: Who exactly are the gangsters?

Works Cited / Discography

2 Pac. 2Pacalypse Now. Jive Records, 1991.

Black Star. Mos Def & Talib Kweli are Black Star. Rawkus Records, 1998.

Coates, Jennifer. Women, Men and Language. Longman Publishing, New York: 1993.

Dr. Dre. The Chronic 2001. Interscope Records, 1999.

Eminem. The Marshall Mathers LP. Interscope Records, 2000.

Geto Boys. Uncut Dope LP. Interscope Records, 1999.

Haugen, Jason. “‘Unladylike Divas’: Language, Gender and Female Gangster Rappers.” Popular Music and Society: December, 2003.

Jay Z. The Black Album. Def Jam, 2003.

Kanye West. College Dropout. Roc-A-Fella Records, 2004.

Nas. I Am. Sony Records, 1999.

Rakim. Don’t Sweat the Technique. MCA Records, 1992.

Rawkus Records. Lyricist Lounge Volume 1. Priority Records, 1999.

Slaughter, Peter. “Attack on Rap Music.” Barutiwa Weekly News. June 14, 1997.

Talib Kweli & DJ Hi-Tek. Train of Thought. Rawkus Records, 2000.

Talib Kweli. Quality. Rawkus Records, 2003.

The Roots. Phrenology. MCA Records, 2002.

Whaley, Angela. “Hip Hop is Not for Sale.” Colorado State University’s Talking Back: Volume 3, Issue 1. 

Xzibit. 40 Days and 40 Nights. Loud Records, 1998.