#ill break open the piggy bank

[andy-clutterbuck]

Bts of TWD 5x10

[aseaofyoongi]

just desserts | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: one night stand; neighbors; set in the summer cause i miss it dearly.

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: jungkook is your next door neighbor who you have only crossed a few words with. however one hot summer day theres a city wide blackout and strangely enough, he shows up at your door w brownies. . and other delights.

warnings: crush culture; mentions of lack of confidence; masturbation (f.); foul language; naughty thoughts; penetrative sex; unprotected sex (wrap it up); dry humping; oral (m. receiving); praise; sub-ish jk!; jk has a huge dick;?brief mention of seokjin and joon; oc is very hørny for jk basically; those fucking gifs of jk w his long hair and glasses inspired this so thank you jeon jungkook; edited but excuse any mistakes please.

word count: 6,3 thousand words

posted: monday - january 30, 2023

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A sixth floor walk up in the middle of the scorching month of July was certainly not fitting on your basis of an ideal home. But after your extensive apartment search always ended with high-priced, rodent infested corners New Yorkers often mistook for apartments, you were happy to shake on the deal for this studio apartment with Seokjin without having to break your piggy bank or burn a staggering hole in your pocket.

“When is the elevator going to be fixed, Seokjin,” you fanned yourself as beads of sweat adorned your white tank top.

“That’ll have to be when I finally win the lotto,” he guffawed from behind the plexiglass square standing between you and his office.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, beginning your journey up the stairs. He didn’t hear you though, instead his focus remained on whichever drama he played on the television.

Kim Seokjin, was the name of a superstar—or so he says. He claims to have attended the Juilliard School for about two years, with dreams of becoming the newest face of Hollywood and all of their high-priced productions. When Seokjin’s dad fell ill, he couldn’t keep up with the demands of keeping so many residence buildings open, he had to close more than half his buildings and just like that, financial strains created a hurdle the size of Mt. Everest in the life of Seokjin. He was left without his dreams, without his father and taking care of a building where the rent was too cheap to gain a profit, making just enough to cover the mortgage.

Normally, you weren’t so exposed to details of your landlord’s lives, but Seokjin was different. He was also your friend.

“I put water bottles around the halfway mark. The last thing I need is a lawsuit over a dead body,” he yelled up as you barely made it to floor two.

“How considerate. I’ll try not to die while you’re on the clock,” it was too hot to continue your journey up. . too hot to form coherent sentences. You just wanted to make it to your apartment and sit in front of the fan for the rest of the day.

“That’s all I’m saying,” you heard.

Once your foot met the landing on the third floor, your eyes desperately scanned for the promise of beverages Seokjin had informed you of, but the small table set-up on the other end of the hallway was completely empty. Leaving behind only the particles of dust and pure oxygen to inhale. Fuck—you actually felt like you were going to pass out. Just three more floors.

You wanted to yell down a snarky remark towards Seokjin but you figured that required too much energy you simply did not have.

Moving to New York was a decision you had made impulsively after feeling like you had overstayed your time in your parents house post-high school. You averted college at all costs because it just wasn’t for you. Lectures seemed like a bore and professors were individuals being paid to legally torture their students so you joyfully averted that nightmare all together. Your immediate option was to get a job, but after many places began getting closed down back home, you found yourself job hopping as a means for survival.

It was not convenient, so you boarded a train to the city that never sleeps in hopes of never looking back. . And you haven’t since setting foot here eleven months ago.

“Just one more floor,” you uttered to no one in particular but the patchy silver handrail and the chipped white walls.

Your apartment was now in your line of vision and the only thing standing between you and the black steel door were just ten sets of stairs. Walking into the building your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat but now you were drenched, your top was sticking to your skin and the thick beads of dampness rolled down your body like the condensation on soft drinks from fast food places.

Heaving with exhaustion you took a seat on the very last step of the sixth floor, finally you made it but you just needed a minute, just a single minute to catch your breath. The fucking heat was unbearable; intolerable; irregular, you could have sworn the sun inched closer and closer to planet earth as the day progressed.

Initially, you hadn’t heard as much as the squeaky hinges on the door frame, you were too divulged in your suffering from the days heat. Not to mention, your eyes were closed and you were too focused in a state of cooling down before hiding behind the thin walls of your apartment.

“Are you ok?” His voice became trapped in the muggy air surrounding the two of you. The bass in his tone never ceased to make your knees turn to jello, to make your toes curl and to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.

Was the heat not enough suffering for one day?

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

“Yeah, it definitely feels like we were shipped straight to hell today.”

“I don’t know, I think hell might be cooler than this,” he chuckled lightly—you’re foolish stammer and poor excuse of words enlightened him. The sun was still beaming brightly but you swore you saw stars after he had serenaded you so sweetly with the sound of his infectious laugh.

“I think you might be right,” he locked his door and walked past you on the stairs, “have a good day neighbor.”

“You too, Jungkook,” you called after him as he began his way down the unfortunate set of stairs.

Sometimes, you felt as if you’d been blessed as the main lead in the plot of a cheesy rom com, but after today the idea was really cemented in your head. Ok, look. . Jungkook was your hot neighbor, like very hot, unearthly hot, like he was handcrafted by God himself, kind of hot. Furthermore, only you and him resided on the sixth floor, living in a pair of tiny apartments right beside one another. Although that was all you had gathered so far, besides his name, it was enough to fill your head with delusions and daydreams of the man your eyes loved to gawk at every chance you got.

You read him very well, like the everlasting pages of your favorite novel. His silky hair was long and inched over the nape of his neck, he wore specs that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose accentuating his big doe eyes. Though his features seemed soft his aura was borderline the complete opposite—a silver hooped piercing sat in the right side of his rosette lips while tattoos peeked right out of the sleeves of the white button up he usually wore.

You closed the door to your apartment, removed your shoes and hung your keys on the flathead thumbtack pierced into the wall by the front door.

The apartment felt even more scorching than the bustling sidewalks. After opening all three of the windows you were bestowed to have between your room and the living room, you turned on your fan and walked into the bathroom to draw a much needed cool bath. Stripping off your sweaty clothes, you stepped into the tub. For a minute, you were immersed in the utter silence floating around you—all your ears detected was the distanced whirring fan all the way from your room.

Behind the back of your eyelids, the world was dark and your thoughts brought you back to your encounters with Jungkook on the stairs just moments ago. Your interactions with the boy were usually extended to a whispered, ‘hi’ or ‘hello,’ never as prolonged as it played out today.

In your thoughts, Jungkook strolled by day and night, as you embraced every look, every utterance, every single time he brushed his hair back using his slender fingers. He was the cultivation of your desires and the reason why your heart strummed against your chest a bit harder the days you saw him leaving around 12PM every afternoon.

It baffled you how he always managed to look fucking good every single day—even during the hottest days of the summer, while you looked like vile beast he managed to look so perfect.

. . So fucking perfect.

The faint tingles traveling through your body, caused your skin to form goosebumps. The pulsation of your clit is what really began driving you to clouded thoughts to imagine his hands against you. You imagined the pads of his fingers to be soft mimicking a delicate velvet fabric and while you crumbled under his touch, he would murmur the filthiest of words against your ear.

Those ministrations could be enough to have you coming hard—he wouldn’t even have to fuck you. Shit, even looking at him was enough.

Being away from all of the toys you safely stored in your nightstand, you grabbed the detachable shower head and adjusted the water pressure, prepped your feet up on the rim of the tub aiming it in between your legs in an inevitable attack against your clit.

Your head lulled back in sure bliss as you fed your carnal desires, the only thing missing was him.

“Fuck—” How you longed for him to have you in this position, so sensitive to his sinful doings; so aroused for him. It was like a hunger your fingers, toys and this stupid shower head could not satisfy.

The vibration of his name dripped from your lips like a chant and you felt that bubbling fervor form in the pit of your stomach. Spurts of pleasure rushed out of you so intensely you were overwhelmed by the explosions of fireworks as soon as your orgasm erupted.

When your breath had settled and you finally felt like you could stand, you opted for a quick shower, rushing to get into your pajamas and plopped down on your bed right in-front of the fan for a nap, having your dreams quickly invaded by him.

Work sucked on Monday afternoons.

All you ever did was stare out of the ticket booth at the movie theater as the few customers who despised the weekend rush came in. Besides, there was rarely anything to occupy your mind with on slow nights like this. You had already sweeped and your co-worker, Namjoon was surveying the screening rooms for any shenanigans the younger crowds could possibly be rattling up.

You always left that up to him—he was the more intimidating one between the two of you anyway.

“Room 5 is a wreck,” Namjoon announced his entrance into the lobby, “I’m gonna go clean up.”

“Walkie me if you need help,” you tapped the walkie clipped onto your belt buckle and he nodded, grabbing the broom and a few rags.

Your stomach grew irritated as you continued golfing down copious amounts of candies but the truth was you were starving and had no time to eat breakfast this morning; let alone make something to bring to work to eat for lunch.

Namjoon was a film major. He was the spitting image of a cliche by the way—his parents wanted him to become a doctor but that wasn’t his passion so he ran away to the city and began trotting up the golden stairs to his dream. You wished you had even an ounce of his determination, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there while you still stood at the base of the mountain of your life. . unbeknownst on how to tackle it or which way it was to begin your way up to the summit.

There was nothing you had a passion for and quite frankly sometimes you were utterly clueless as to what your purpose was in life.

Had no dreams and no goals to strive towards; nothing extraordinary you expected to blossom in your future. There was nothing, nothing and more nothingness occupying the hours of your days.

“My child,” Seokjin walked in through the glass door, he looked like he'd been chilling in an oven.

“Seokjin,” you narrowed your eyes in his direction, “what are you doing here? I thought you never left the air conditioner in your office plus don’t you hate the movie theater?”

“You’re absolutely correct. The dimmed lighting here is horrid and I deserve better than that. .”

“Of course, you do.”

“But,” he leaned over the counter, “I saw your little neighbor boyfriend leaving the building today and I was fucking gagged.”

“Trust me, Seokjin. I know how good he fucking looks in that white button up. I’ve lived it.”

“No,” he squealed, “He had a black short sleeve shirt today and—”

“Spit it out, bitch.”

“He has a full fucking sleeve,” he squealed.

“No. Fucking. Way.” The pauses in between your words were not placed for dramatic effect—you were in fact attempting to paint a detailed mental image of that sinful man.

How unfair is it that he gets to walk around us mortals with our average looks while he exudes such grand flawlessness.

“Looks like someone owes me fifty bucks.”

The bet. . you had completely forgotten about that.

“I'll pass it over on Friday once I get paid.”

“I told you,” he began, “once a man gets one tattoo they’re usually covered in them.”

“Yea, but he has this soft look to him, you know?” you shrugged, “I thought he might have had a few. But a whole sleeve?”

“Jungkook is a walking juxtaposition.”

“I suppose he is.”

Seokjin sat on the counter emptying a handful of sweets into his palm, “what are you doing eating all of this candy anyway?”

“Uh,” your thoughts were still filtered towards Jungkook. You wanted to see him so bad, “I’m starving and just waiting on Namjoon to finish cleaning room five so I can go on my lunch break.”

“Namjoon as in the buff hottie with the deep voice?”

“I guess.”

“Room five?” You nodded.

“I’ll take one ticket for whatever the fuck you guys are showing right now.”

“Didn’t you say you hated it here?” You printed a ticket to. . you looked down, to the latest minion movie and ripped off the top half, “you complained about the lights or something.”

“Can you just give me a ticket? I need it to execute my master plan,” he rushed your actions in cutting the ticket you had printed, “besides you owe me for coming all the way down here with vital intel about your secret crush.”

“I owe you nothing. I’ll be paying half a hundred for that by the end of the week, remember?”

“Consider this,” he snatched the ticket from your grasp, holding it beside his toothy grin, “your down payment.”

Before you could form a further argument, Seokjin vanished from in front of you and sprinted down the main hallway to screening room five.

The best thing about your job were the designated days off you had throughout the week. Tuesdays and Fridays were yours to enjoy and while today was Tuesday your schedule was still jam packed with an abundance of errands to complete come the early morning.

You had paid your utility bills, finished your laundry, cleaned your apartment and even set out poultry to defrost by the time you made it back home. It had been a very productive day.

Your last stop was the grocery store.

Oftentimes, you’d wander aimlessly, losing yourself in each aisle wondering about how the better half lives, how much better life would be if you didn’t have to keep incessant reminders of your weekly budgets stamped to the back of your head.

How much easier life would be if money wasn’t such a big determinant in the choices we were forced to make in our day to day lives.

Oh, how much easier life would be.

You only grabbed the essentials for the next couple of weeks including—rice, greens, fruits, water, milk, meat, and a variation of breakfast options.

Temptation roamed in the air as you headed out of the cereal aisle you were face to face with a bakery section where an unhealthy amount of baked goods were sprawled out—practically blaring out your name. All of the delicious delights made your mouth water and you couldn’t help but gravitate deeper and deeper, guided by the aroma of the sweet desserts.

“Neighbor?” It was his earthy voice, the same one you’d only heard vibrate among the walls of the tiny hallway of the sixth floor the two of you shared.

“Jungkook?” You looked up from the brownies and your eyes met his figure, in the same clothes you usually saw him leave his apartment. It was his work uniform, “You work here?”

“Is that judgment in your tone I hear?”

“N-no,” You stammered. Was he fucking with you? He had to be fucking with you. “Of course not. I would never judge—”

“I was just playing, neighbor.” Phew.

“I always come here. How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“I’m usually baking in the back. I was just coming out to set these down,” he held up the dozen cupcakes sitting inside the boxed packaging.

“You bake?” Hopefully, you sounded more stunned than judgemental because you were i. fact stunned.

“I’m an aspiring pastry chef. I go to culinary school,” Jungkook, your beautiful, doe eyed, tattooed, pierced neighbor was also a baker. Ok.

For some reason that made him so much more attractive.

“I would not have been able to guess that even if I tried,” You mentally kicked yourself at the lack of filter in your words. You weren’t trying to offend him and hopefully he does not take it as such.

He chuckled—that’s a good sign, “People tend to simulate that very reaction but you can certainly knock on my door if you’re ever craving something sweet. I promise they are amazing.”

Craving something sweet?

Your thoughts traveled back to the enticing thoughts you possessed a few days ago while you took a bath, the vivid image of the water pressure against your cunt and the pure desire to have him near made you dizzy. And now he was near, just a couple of feet away.

A wave of warmth traveled through your extremities, the pulse on your clit turned to an overbearing throb, you wanted to rub your thighs and alleviate the feeling. But you remembered where you were, in the middle of the grocery store and Jungkook still stood right before you. Nevertheless, you tried to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs; dampening your panties.

“I practically poured out all of the basic details of my boring life. I think you owe me at least something about you.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you shrugged, “but I work at the movie theater down the street if that piques your interest at all.”

“It does. I love movies.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there before.”

“Well, if I’m honest I haven’t gone in a long time but that’s only because work and school keep me pretty busy.”

The lust streaming through your body doubled to make your heart beat with fondness and you grew endeared in the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up when he talked about his aspirations to become a baker.

“You’ll have a free ticket waiting for you whenever your schedule clears up.”

“Promise you’ll join me when I decide to go.” His words carved themselves into your brain like a permanent tattoo, just as those decorating his arm. The fluttering feeling in your abdomen heightened as a result of the dithers, without being aware of it, that is the effect Jungkook had on you.

“As long as it’s on a Tuesday or Friday.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“See you, neighbor.”

Thursday was the worst day of the week so far.

Technically you were supposed to be at work, it was already 4:00PM, but instead you were still home. Even just sitting down in the muggy atmosphere of your in the miniscule space, you were doused, staining your clothes with sweat.

You were not willingly suffering at the lack of mercy the scorching weather subjected the city and everyone in it to, unfortunately the power had gone out. And while usually you had the luxury of a fan to cool down, today you had nothing.

Your windows and front door were left wide open in an attempt to cool down the place and still you felt as if you were sitting inside a fucking oven set to hightest temperature. There was no use.

“Neighbor.” Jungkook called out lightly knocking on the opened door.

Jungkook? Not Jungkook again when you looked like an absolute wreck.

“Hey Jungkook,” he stood at the door frame, a wide grin painted on his lips—he held a to-go box in his hands, “you can come in.”

“Do you want me to shut the door?”

“Sure,” you gave in, it’s not like it was actually doing anything. Besides, the last thing you needed was one of the crazy residents from the lower floors coming to bug you.

Jungkook took a seat next to you on the couch, he wore a sleeveless top exposing all of the ink embellishing his skin, every line, every curve, every word was so intricate and seemed so unique to him.

“I didn’t know you had these many tattoos,” a small fib was a price to pay to not seem like a weirdo, “did any of them hurt?”

“Some did,” he pointed at his tricep, “mainly these and a few others but I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Well, they’re beautiful,” you scanned his arm some more. It was truly like a mural embodying the beauty of art, “were you a singer?” you signaled at the microphone sitting on his forearm.

“I guess you could say that,” he adjusted himself on the couch, his nylon shorts rode up his thighs and you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes glanced down constantly. Jungkook didn’t notice though, he was too busy averting eye contact and scratching the back of his head, “My highschool friends and I used to make music. We recorded a mixtape.”

“I need a link to this mixtape. . like now,” You laughed hysterically.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Ok, ok,” Again, another surprise from the man you thought you had all figured out—every single day he surprised you more and more, “were you like a vocalist or a rapper?”

“Vocals mostly. I did try rapping once though but I sucked so badly they scratched it off the track.”

“At least they were honest and didn't let you crash and burn in public.”

“You should’ve seen me though. I thought I was the shit.”

Jungkooks giggles were everlasting as he recounted the many times their parents grew exhausted of kicking them out of their garages for their disturbances in the making of their great musical legacy.. He filled the room with vibrance. The longer you sat in the presence of Jungkook the more you were exposed to the colors that made Jungkook, Jungkook. Of course, you were intrigued by the phosphorescent hues allowing them to inch you closer in his direction. Wanting him to spare no details in the adventure of his life.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the packaging box beside him on the arm rest.

“Brownies,” he handed you the box, “I saw you eyeing them when you were at the bakery but you didn’t buy any. So, I figured I would bring you some.”

In your mind, this was his way of saying he was thinking about you—that’s what you chose to believe anyway.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I wanna see what you think of my baking.” Jungkook’s eyes were bigger than usual behind his specs, he fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.

If only he knew, the actual taste of the brownies would hold no significance in your criticism. You would love them anyway simply because they came from him.

“How about we have one together?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “let’s go to my room. There’s two windows in there and I’m literally about to pass out from heat stroke out here.”

The two of you sat by each one of the windows, the box of his remaining six hand crafted sweet delicacies sat between the two of you on the nightstand.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

“1, 2,” the two of you held the chocolaty dessert up to your mouth, “3.”

Even after just one bite your taste buds were enamored.

“What do you think?”

“They’re amazing, Jungkook. You’re an amazing baker.”

“You can call me Kookie, you know.”

You nearly choked after taking another bite, hurdling into a coughing spiral, “that’s so fitting. Kookie the pastry chef.”

“Forget I said it,” he shook his head, laughing.

“Wait, no,” you loved the soft tint of pink dusting his cheeks, “that could be the name of your future shop.”

“Kookie’s Cookies.”

“Kookie’s Cookies,” you confirmed, “and I wanna be credited for the idea too.”

“Better yet, you’ll be my business partner.”

“That’s not a good idea. I’ll eat everything and you’ll just end up bankrupt,” your eyes were set on the congested sidewalks outside your window—everyone was out likely catching a break from their scorching apartments but here you were melting away all at the expense of being in Jungkook’s company just for a bit longer.

“I wouldn’t mind as long as you’re with me.”

Those eight words sent your mind into a spiral, head first into the rabbit hole of your fantasies. You couldn’t really make out if he truly meant what you thought he meant.

“Jungkook. .”

“I mean it.”

“Please don’t make me believe there could actually be something here,” Your voice was low and your thoughts were a scribbled mess. There was not a single coherency in your being at that point in time.

“I’m not lying,” your name tasted saccharine on his tinted lips—much like the brownie he had baked for you, “I like you.”

“Jungkook. .” was all you could muster.

“I’ve liked you from the moment you moved into the building.”

A single strike of thunder traveled down your spinal cord, you felt paralyzed in that moment and his sweet sweet words just continued looping inside the walls of your skull.

You were malfunctioning; shocked.

It’s astonishing how oblivious and just plain stupid human nature can make a person. For the past months, you had concealed the schoolgirl crush you developed on Jungkook and convinced yourself that there was absolutely no way in hell he could like you back.

Your insecurities had deceived you and now you sit here after so long with a thumping beat in your heart, giddy with excitement and lowkey wanting to slap yourself for not having noticed earlier.

“You like me?”

Obviously, he just fucking said that. He nodded.

“I like you, too.” You finally said out loud.

The temperature continued to rise in the small bedroom and between the two of you the heat became unbearable. With each passing second, you could feel the streamline trickles of your sweat cascading down your temples; your entire body matter of fact.

If eyes were the windows to the soul then Jungkook’s chocolate gaze was compelling.

And they were calling out for you so loudly.

“What happens now?” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

“Can I kiss you, Jungkook?”

You caught on to Jungkook’s mannerisms and body language rather quickly within the past hour. For example, he was pretty straight forward with his words yet whenever he spoke his fingers fidgeted with a random object as a distraction, this time it was the black beaded bracelet sitting on his wrist.

He nodded yet again.

Your heaven resided in the comfort of Jungkook’s thighs. You realized it the moment you straddled him. The rich smell of sandalwood was a scent unique to him, so earthy and rich. It was the only thing you ever wanted to smell for the remainder of your time on earth.

After raking your hands through his soft hair you tugged at it a bit, guiding his face up towards you.

“If you want anything from me. You’re gonna have to use your words, Jungkook.”

“You know what I want,” his eyes traced the corners of your lips down to the intricate details, “just kiss me, please.”

There are an abundance of perfect scenarios in life. For one there was the idyllic scene of snowfall on Christmas day; the legendary creamy combination of cookies and cream; then, there was the way your lips danced against Jungkooks, composing a choreography so intricate and beautiful only the two of you could execute it.

You were in a haze, entirely stupefied and addicted to his soft and warm lips. Then, his hands snaked around your waist as he guided you back and forth on his lap. His covered erection rubbed against your clothed slit in a pace so slow, it was agonizing yet delectable. Jungkook pulled away, continuing to lead your movements against him. Your mouth remained agape and you couldn’t help the sounds escaping your lips.

You wanted to pinch yourself, you’d only ever dreamt of this. Was this all a fabrication of your dreams? You hope it wasn’t, it felt so good.

“God, I’ve always wanted to have you like this.” His voice was husk and he spoke in between grunts.

If today was dictated as your last day on earth, you’d die being the happiest woman.

His warm breath fanned your sweaty neck. A tickle ran down your back but you focused on the knot forming at your abdomen.

“I’m so close.”

“Let go for me.”

His commands were sweet like candy and the utters of his guidance to have you crumble on his lap were all you needed to send you over the edge.

“You were so good for me, darling.”

“Call me that forever.” Your knees were sore, your voice was hoarse and you were sweltered from head to toe but you craved more, you grew wetter just imagining what else could arise from this encounter.

“Darling?” You nodded. “Jungkook?” He hummed lightly, opening his eyes and lifting his head from where it rested on the wall.

“Are you tired?”

“I just had a long day yesterday.”

“Can I help you unwind?” your lower lip now tucked under your teeth, “can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Your hands tucked under the hemline of his shorts and underwear. The way you illustrated Jungkook in your dreams was close to what you would imagine a modern Greek God to look like and you quickly realized that was the case when his shirt lifted revealing that he should be the one on display in museums instead of those silly little statues.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, while your hand moved up and down the length of his cock. You couldn’t see it, not yet. But he felt so big in your palm.

The hushed moans and curses leaving him fueled you to maintain at the same pace. Your lips found themselves leaving wet kisses on his already dampened neck.

“Please—please don’t stop,” He was a stuttering mess, his hand was gripping the window still so tightly his knuckles turned white. Hypnotized by arousal Jungkook began meeting your movements, enraptured by his desire for release.

“You’re not being a very good boy, Jungkook,” you whispered in his ear, “besides I thought you were tired.”

“I’ll—I’ll be so good I promise,” he continued fucking himself into your hand.

Jungkook whined as soon as you released his cock from your grip. Instead you tucked off the pesky fabrics covering his lower half, with his help of course, your theories were proven to be correct. Jungkook, your hot neighbor with piercings and tattoos also had a pussy destroyer in between his legs because of course he did.

“There’s only two rules baby.”

“What are the rules?”

“You have to keep your hands to yourself and no coming until I say so. You got it?”

“Yes, darling.”

Opening the last drawer on your night stand you pulled out one of your vibrators and held it up for him to see, “is it ok if we use this?”

“Mhm.”

You shoved it in your pocket for later.

Taking him into your mouth, you began swirling your tongue in circular motions around the head of his cock. His labored pants were hushed and almost inaudible, you would’ve missed them if the two of you weren’t in complete silence.

Licking up and down his shaft you focused on pressing your tongue on the tip, as your hands began working, pumping him where your mouth couldn’t reach. You bobbed your head up and down occasionally, allowing the head of his cock pop in and out of your mouth. Slurp noises began invading the atmosphere around the two of you along with his whimpers. Your pace was fast and there were traces of your saliva coating his length entirely.

“Fuck darling,” his hands were reaching to grasp anything in his path but instead he ended up knocking everything off your night stand. “Y-Your lips were made to be around my cock. You know that?”

Jungkook’s praises were treats for your ego and you made sure to devour them in their entirety. He was a pleasant mess; his hair stuck out in all directions while his lips were swollen and vibrant with a scarlet hue as he kept biting down on them harshly. His glasses were slightly fogged and there were traces of saliva sitting on the corner of his mouth. All you wanted was to continue seeing him lose himself at your mercy.

You reached into your pocket and turned on the palm sized stimulator—you placed it against his balls before hitting the on button, setting off its vibrations. His head fell back and his hips buckled forward, causing you to gag around the majority of cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he cried out.

If anyone would’ve told you having Jungkook’s dick in your mouth would be this heavenly, you would live on your knees in front of him forever. Pleasuring him at every hour of every day but today you had different plans and once again he let out frustrated whimpers as you removed your mouth from around him.

“No—no, darling you’re fucking killing me. I need to come now,” he sounded desperate, “It hurts so bad. I need to come.”

“Don’t worry baby. We’re getting right to that,” you placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Did you bring any condoms?”

He shook his head, “I wasn’t exactly expecting things to go down this route.”

“Are you. .?”

“I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am.”

There was a timid breeze coming in through the opened window, it was enough to cool you down just a bit, well as cool as you could be without a fan.

Bouncing on Jungkook’s dick was even better than having him in your mouth. Sure, you loved the way he became a stuttering mess with the teasing of your tongue but having him deep inside of you, you felt like you were in your own heaven. On a deserted island somewhere with nothing but the swift breeze coming from the palm trees and his touch on your skin.

“You take me so well,” he whispered in your ear but you were too busy consumed by your own pleasure. Hyper focused on the way his hands dug into your waist; the way he swiftly pushed his cock in and out of you.

The sounds of your skin slapping against his blared through the room, as well as your profanities and his words of praise just as before.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as you felt a build up of tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, causing you to arch your back. Seemingly, the way you clenched around Jungkook he seemed to have noticed you were extremely close.

“Come for me darling,” with each word he buried his dick deeper into you.

It was a blissful paradise painted on the back of your eyelids as Jungkook continued to mold your insides with his dick, he was careful but rammed into you with such force, your voice was strained and you couldn’t hold it any longer. You finally came as sights of the beeming sun behind your closed eyes blinded you entirely.

“Come inside of me,” you managed; even more sweaty than how you began, absolutely tired and completely out of breath.

He chanted strings of your name as finally filled you up.

“Please come over more often and bring all of your brownies with you,” you were pressed up against him as he hugged your waist, placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How about we begin by going to that movie tomorrow?” It was so funny to you how Jungkook had practically just split you in two and now he was back to being soft spoken.

“It’s a date.”

It was now Friday, the power was finally back on around the city and Jungkook followed through on his plans to take you to the movies. The only problem was when you approached the theater you spotted your nosey landlord standing in line right beside Namjoon. “Before you say anything, Seokjin. Please just shut the fuck up.”

“You always think the worse of me,” he placed his hand on his chest, “all I was going to say is my Cupid’s bow is to thank for the two of you finally getting together.”

“In that case, thank you Seokjin,” Jungkook said.

“Don’t thank him.”

“Actually, please do. But the next time yall fuck in my building please keep it down. Just like the walls, the floors are also thin and the fifth floor did not appreciate your day of passion.”

“Seokjin, please go back to your own date,” you hissed, hoping no one else in line heard his little rant, “pretend we’re not here.”

Jungkook’s shame sat in his now red tinted cheeks, you peppered kisses on them to ease him.

“See, they can’t even keep their hands to themselves in public,” you heard Seokjin whisper.

This is going to be an interesting date.

-

-

-

a/n: this was pretty fun to write but supposed to be out on my birthday a couple days ago but i couldn’t meet the deadline sadly but please enjoy and disregard the smut scene if it’s bad. I tried lol my brain just wasn’t working 100%.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

'We buy ugly houses' is code for 'we steal vulnerable peoples' homes'

Tonight (May 11) at 7PM, I’m in CALGARY for Wordfest, with my novel Red Team Blues; I’ll be hosted by Peter Hemminger at the Memorial Park Library, 2nd Floor.

Home ownership is the American dream: not only do you get a place to live, free from the high-handed dictates of a landlord, but you also get an asset that appreciates, building intergenerational wealth while you sleep — literally.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/#homevestor

Of course, you can’t have it both ways. If your house is an asset you use to cover falling wages, rising health care costs, spiraling college tuition and paper-thin support for eldercare, then it can’t be a place you live. It’s gonna be an asset you sell — or at the very least, borrow so heavily against that you are in constant risk of losing it.

This is the contradiction at the heart of the American dream: when America turned its back on organized labor as an engine for creating prosperity and embraced property speculation, it set itself on the road to serfdom — a world where the roof over your head is also your piggy bank, destined to be smashed open to cover the rising costs that an organized labor movement would have fought:

https://gen.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

Today, we’re hit the end of the road for the post-war (unevenly, racially segregated) shared prosperity that made it seem, briefly, that everyone could get rich by owning a house, living in it, then selling it to everybody else. Now that the game is ending, the winners are cashing in their chips:

https://doctorow.medium.com/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom-bfad6f3b35a9

The big con of home ownership is proceeding smartly on schedulee. First, you let the mark win a little, so they go all in on the scam. Then you take it all back. Obama’s tolerance of bank sleze after the Great Financial Crisis kicked off the modern era of corporations and grifters stealing Americans’ out from under them, forging deeds in robosigning mills:

https://www.marketwatch.com/story/us-breaks-down-93-bln-robo-signing-settlement-2013-02-28

The thefts never stopped. Today on Propublica, by Anjeanette Damon, Byard Duncan and Mollie Simon bring a horrifying, brilliantly reported account of the rampant, bottomless scams of Homevestors, AKA We Buy Ugly Houses, AKA “the #1 homebuyer in the USA”:

https://www.propublica.org/article/ugly-truth-behind-we-buy-ugly-houses

Homevestors — an army of the hedge fund Bayview Asset Management — claims a public mission: to bail out homeowners sitting on unsellable houses with all-cash deals. The company’s franchisees — 1,150 of them in 48 states — then sprinkle pixie dust and secret sauce on these “ugly houses” and sell them at a profit.

But Propublica’s investigation — which relied on whistleblowers, company veterans, court records and interviews with victims — tells a very different story. The Homevestor they discovered is a predator that steals houses out from under elderly people, disabled people, people struggling with mental illness and other vulnerable people. It’s a company whose agents have a powerful, well-polished playbook that stops family members from halting the transfers the company’s high-pressure salespeople set in motion.

Propublica reveals homeowners with advanced dementia who signed their shaky signatures to transfers that same their homes sold out from under them for a fraction of their market value. They show how Homevestor targets neighborhoods struck by hurricanes, or whose owners are recently divorced, or sick. One whistleblower tells of how the company uses the surveillance advertising industry to locate elderly people who’ve broken a hip: “a 60-day countdown to death — and, possibly, a deal.” The company’s mobile ads are geofenced to target people near hospitals and rehab hospitals, in hopes of finding desperate sellers who need to liquidate homes so that Medicaid will cover their medical expenses.

The sales pitches are relentless. One of Homevestor’s targets was a Texas woman whose father had recently been murdered. As she grieved, they blanketed her in pitches to sell her father’s house until “checking her mail became a traumatic experience.”

Real-estate brokers are bound by strict regulations, but not house flippers like Homevestors. Likewise, salespeople who pitch other high-ticket items, from securities to plane tickets — are required to offer buyers a cooling-off period during which they can reconsider their purchases. By contrast, Homevestors’ franchisees are well-versed in “muddying the title” to houses after the contract is signed, filing paperwork that makes it all but impossible for sellers to withdraw from the sale.

This produces a litany of ghastly horror-stories: homeowners who end up living in their trucks after they were pressured into a lowball sales; sellers who end up dying in hospital beds haunted by the trick that cost them their homes. One woman who struggled with hoarding was tricked into selling her house by false claims that the city would evict her because of her hoarding. A widow was tricked into signing away the deed to her late husband’s house by the lie that she could do so despite not being on the deed. One seller was tricked into signing a document he believed to be a home equity loan application, only to discover he had sold his house at a huge discount on its market value. An Arizona woman was tricked into selling her dead mother’s house through the lie that the house would have to be torn down and the lot redeveloped; the Homevestor franchisee then flipped the house for 5,500% of the sale-price.

The company vigorously denies these claims. They say that most people who do business with Homevestors are happy with the outcome; in support of this claim, they cite internal surveys of their own customers that produce a 96% approval rating.

When confronted with the specifics, the company blamed rogue franchisees. But Propublica obtained training materials and other internal documents that show that the problem is widespread and endemic to Homevestors’ business. Propublica discovered that at least eight franchisees who engaged in conduct the company said it “didn’t tolerate” had been awarded prizes by the company for their business acumen.

Franchisees are on the hook for massive recurring fees and face constant pressure from corporate auditors to close sales. To make those sales, franchisees turn to Homevana’s training materials, which are rife with predatory tactics. One document counsels franchisees that “pain is always a form of motivation.” What kind of pain? Lost jobs, looming foreclosure or a child in need of surgery.

A former franchisee explained how this is put into practice in the field: he encountered a seller who needed to sell quickly so he could join his dying mother who had just entered a hospice 1,400 miles away. The seller didn’t want to sell the house; they wanted to “get to Colorado to see their dying mother.”

These same training materials warn franchisees that they must not deal with sellers who are “subject to a guardianship or has a mental capacity that is diminished to the point that the person does not understand the value of the property,” but Propublica’s investigation discovered “a pattern of disregard” for this rule. For example, there was the 2020 incident in which a 78-year-old Atlanta man sold his house to a Homevestors franchisee for half its sale price. The seller was later shown to be “unable to write a sentence or name the year, season, date or month.”

The company tried to pin the blame for all this on bad eggs among its franchisees. But Propublica found that some of the company’s most egregious offenders were celebrated and tolerated before and after they were convicted of felonies related to their conduct on behalf of the company. For example, Hi-Land Properties is a five-time winner of Homevestors’ National Franchise of the Year prize. The owner was praised by the CEO as “loyal, hardworking franchisee who has well represented our national brand, best practices and values.”

This same franchisee had “filed two dozen breach of contract lawsuits since 2016 and clouded titles on more than 300 properties by recording notices of a sales contract.” Hi-Land “sued an elderly man so incapacitated by illness he couldn’t leave his house.”

Another franchisee, Patriot Holdings, uses the courts aggressively to stop families of vulnerable people from canceling deals their relatives signed. Patriot Holdings’ co-owner, Cory Evans, eventually pleaded guilty to to two felonies, attempted grand theft of real property. He had to drop his lawsuits against buyers, and make restitution.

According to Homevestors’ internal policies, Patriot’s franchise should have been canceled. But Homevestors allowed Patriot to stay in business after Cory Evans took his name off the business, leaving his brothers and other partners to run it. Nominally, Cory Evans was out of the picture, but well after that date, internal Homevestors included Evans in an award it gave to Patriot, commemorating its sales (Homevestors claims this was an error).

Propublica’s reporters sought comment from Homevestors and its franchisees about this story. The company hired “a former FBI spokesperson who specializes in ‘crisis and special situations’ and ‘reputation management’ and funnelled future questions through him.”

Internally, company leadership scrambled to control the news. The company convened a webinar in April with all 1,150 franchisees to lay out its strategy. Company CEO David Hicks explained the company’s plan to “bury” the Propublica article with “‘strategic ad buys on social and web pages’ and ‘SEO content to minimize visibility.’”

https://www.propublica.org/article/homevestors-aims-to-bury-propublica-reporting

Franchisees were warned not to click links to the story because they “might improve its internet search ranking.”

Even as the company sought to “bury” the story and stonewalled Propublica, they cleaned house, instituting new procedures and taking action against franchisees identified in Propublica’s article. “Clouding titles” is now prohibited. Suing sellers for breach of contract is “discouraged.” Deals with seniors “should always involve family, attorneys or other guardians.”

During the webinar, franchisees “pushed back on the changes, claiming they could hurt business.”

If you’ve had experience with hard-sell house-flippers, Propublica wants to know: “If you’ve had experience with a company or buyer promising fast cash for homes, our reporting team wants to hear about it.”

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A Depression-era photo of a dour widow standing in front of a dilapidated cabin. Next to her is Ug, the caveman mascot for Homevestors, smiling and pointing at her. Behind her is a 'We buy ugly houses' sign.

Image: Homevestors https://www.homevestors.com/

Fair use: https://www.eff.org/issues/intellectual-property

[theomnicode]

OPM God and Schizophrenia allegory

When Saitama's symptoms after becoming stronger match those described in this video about Schizophrenia and what Psykos is also going through by hearing voices from OPM god, including the part about those symptoms being misdiagnosed as depression and knowing that OPM God has probably watched Saitama from tender age of 12...

Well, shit.

OPM God influence is schizophrenia allegory innit?

Paraphrasing from the video:

(I recommend watching it btw, it makes it make so much more sense if you connect the dots)

"Negative symptoms are behaviours of phenomena that are absent or diminished and they often begin emerging in someone before positive symptoms begin to take affect and in some cases, even years in advance. One of the most commonly experienced negative symptoms is Avolition or Extreme apathy and Severe lack of motivation. This can leave someone more isolated in their social withdrawal as the symptoms increase in severity. Often accompanied by Anhedonia, a total lack of pleasure or even Alogia, a decline in speech complexity. Blunted affect, a condition where the patient fails to express emotion at all, whether it be positive or negative. Instead of showing no emotion whatsoever, schizophrenia can also cause inappropriate affect; the person shows emotion but the wrong one, such as someone chuckling at a funeral called Paradoxical laughter. Neurocognition is the brain's ability to process information, so patients with schizophrenia have issues with things like remembering and repeating a short string of words.

Just to note something on the video.

I had this horrifying creepypasta thought about Saitama being completely catatonic in front of his television, just watching the news. For days. Not moving at all.

Just brain static.

Why is he sitting in the dark, watching tv?

You'd think if it was dark outside, he'd put on the lights or something. But it's daytime. His house is just...dark for no reason. While he's sitting in front of his balcony window.

The metaphor of stepping back into the light is pretty strong.

I've had thoughts about Saitama becoming stronger alluding to loss of cognitive functions like alzheimer's but yea, I guess we can add this to the list of what OPM God can do to people mentally. Just plain psychological horror of losing the self, the personhood, in different ways. The real, worst enemy for Saitama in OPM had always though to be his depression and apathy so it checks out that OPM God would be the very personification of psychological cosmic horror.

The creepiest part is the piggy bank. A memento mori.

It stares back from inside the television screen. It's facing the wrong direction.

That is one creepy piggy bank.

The lack of conscience is the other side of the coin. The piggy bank is a reminder of it.

Subterranean fight is basically Saitama fighting his own subconscious trying to invade him and had already killed 70% of his cognitive functions as casualties and Saitama finding his conscience (consciousness) again was able to fight back against OPM god's influence (and the voices in his head "guilt tripping" him, which may be allusion to spirits talking to him since he's "unwitting shaman" so he can hear into the spirit world). But Saitama fought back because he refused to turn into a vegetable and became the abominable fist that turned against god.

So basically, OPM God is the personification of the Slenderman that stalks him around every corner, the creepypasta, the mental illnesses and the dark side of his psyche at the backside of his head and the other side of him, a reminder of that is staring right back at him and watching his every move from behind the scenes, looking for an opening or a weakness in his armor, mental fortitude, he could exploit. Everything Saitama has refused to accept being part of himself pretty much (not unlike in Mob psycho.)

"This is what you did to yourself by dabbling with powers you do not know (breaking the limit), this is a reminder of what could become of you, avoid this outcome or else."

Checks out with all those OPM God and Saitama parallels.

--

One could say that ONE has possibly drafted OPM God as being humanity's dirty laundry, personification of everything humanity has cast away or locked away inside themselves, for instance from dislike, deeming it morally evil or fear of being stigmatized and facing consequences and has become humanity's toilet. The stigma itself that it does not want to be talked about, does not allow itself to be talked about and so it remains as the boogeyman in the closet.

Saitama and his mental health has never been anything but a serious issue in OPM and is not treated with kid's gloves or seen through rose-coloured goggles. Acknowledging that OPM God exists in secret is acknowledging that the stigma does exists, but it's just being hid behind closed doors. Like HA hides monsters in the basement. But OPM God also being played as the last boss in the series...confrontation seems inevitable. It is alluded that it is being drawn, summoned, to OPM earth dimension by Saitama too. So that would make it Saitama's personal demons that he has to wrestle with.

There's some cleaning up the toilet (genos) and defeating toilet (again genos) references around and Saitama also locks himself in a bathroom after toilet-dwelling monster in OPM game.

Current arc, we're kinda airing out all the dirty laundry in the closet too. Psykos is casually being tortured and dehumanized and nobody bats an eye. After she got stigmatized and exploited ofc.

We're just used to air out all the clean laundry like Saitama does in the first Ova, the shadow that snuck too close, but the shadow also took out the trashbag since it was getting messy inside.

No messing around with mental illnesses.

[titoist]

excerpt from journal entry, october 28th, 8:50pm

[...] it feels like a deep malaise. a thought that keeps reverberating in my mind is that i got completely atomized by a nuclear bomb last september & the last year of my life has been like a process of slowly attempting (& failing) to put myself together with increasing bouts of physical illness. i would likely have needed a period of introspection in any case, true... but what happened was a bit like opening a piggy bank by dropping the tsar bomba on it. stress. that's what it is. i keep using these terms to sort of unconsciously pussyfoot around it. stress. i feel unbelievably stressed. & i've felt continuously under stress for the better half of the last year and a half. so much so that it often feels like stress and steady depreciation have shifted into simply being my default moods, & any and all happiness i may come across in a given period is simply an uncommon interregnum between a noxious yesterday and a suffocating tomorrow, 'the exception that proves the rule'. it's no wonder, then, that my brain feels like a scrambled egg.

[...]

but what's frustrating, is… that this stress is caused by real material factors that i can't quite handwave away. i can't take a rest break from it. & i can't simply lay in bed & close my eyes to the deep consternation, because the root issues are beyond my current control, & if i were to 'take a break from them' i would simply be deluding myself, a bandaid, a stopgap that'd only succeed in corroding my ability to feel. & i feel like a restless dog attempting to for the hundredth time relay this feeling, like a hen running around headless, like a mad march hare… so i need to come to terms with the material factors of stress, without being consumed by them. i need to accept them as part of my perception, while at the same time feeling confidence that i will be able to, at some point, supersede them… rendering them irrelevant to my emotions. but up 'til now, i've felt no such alternative within my grasp. i need to be offered some sort of alternative. or, rather, i need to offer myself some sort of alternative...

[...]

the total unmitigated doomspiral of the past year has ingrained in me such a deep helplessness & loneliness that i often forget that these are not the natural winds of my world. that better things are possible. some sort of alternative… some sort of alternative… some sort of alternative….

[i-cant-sing]

Platonic Yandere Squid Game

Yes, I'm gonna idea dump here now.

Imagine reader being in her late teens. She comes from a poor background, which is why she had to leave school from an early age to do all kinds of odd jobs to help her parents pay their debts which seems to increase over time because her father is a gambler and her mother is chronically ill. Still, she loves them because things could've been way worse for her and she's grateful for them- they were good to her when she was young. Despite leaving behind her education, she is very smart- very observant and a quick learner who picks up on skills whenever she can, loves to learn new things so a part of her enjoys working.

Now our reader's parents are in deep trouble with the bank and the shark loans so when a man comes her way and asks if she'd like to play a game with him to make a quick hundred bucks, she agrees.

Fast forward to a week later, she wakes up in a bunk bed with several others after she'd called the number on the business card. There are many players, all that are in debt and want the prize money. You're the youngest player there, and you were already being pushed around and undermined by the other players.

So, when the first game starts, you're just as determined to win. But you stop breathing when the a player gets shot, you think you misheard, but then another person gets shot, and another and then its pretty much a mass shooting. Fortunately, you're too shell shocked to even move a muscle.

Somehow, you gain control over your body and realise that you need to make it over the line to stay alive. And you do it, closing your eyes as you heard the ones who didn't make it, get shot.

You're surprisingly very calm as you return back to your bed after the majority voted to continue playing instead of quitting. Quietly slipping under the covers, you let a few tears slip out of your eyes, recalling the massacre that you had just witnessed.

The next game, the honeycomb challenge was fairly easy to you. Being poor, you often had no food to eat so whenever you could manage to get the sugary treat, you would work hard to not break the shape of the candy so that you can get another one for free.

The masked men served lunch after the second game. You opened your tiffin and immediately scrunched up your face in disgust at the peas mixed in your rice. You began picking them out, trying to ignore how the number of players had dwindled.

When the third game, tug of war, was played, your team barely managed to pass, but they did win all because of your incredible leadership skills and strategy.

It was after that game when chaos started among the players. One of the bullies decided to fight one of the weaker players to establish his dominance and ended up killing him, and when the player's death added wads of cash to the piggy bank, you knew what was going to follow later that night.

You had no weapons, nothing to defend yourself. Well, not nothing. You had managed to get a soda can and put it in your empty pillow case, swinging it around and knocking people out cold when they got close to you. But one of the bully's men had managed to stab you with a shard of glass into your side. Just when you thought that he was going to slit your throat, the door opened and the masked guards came rushing in with their guns pointed at you guys.

You were taken to the infirmary, which was a bit weird because you didn't see anyone else being wheeled in there. For a second you thought they were about to extract your organs and sell them, but all fears went away when one of the masked guards, the one with the square on his mask, just stitched you up, advising you stay still and rest there. You were left there with two guards, both had circles on their masks. Maybe half an hour later, one of them left and brought your lunch- a tray with some soup, another tiffin, and a vanilla pudding. The guards helped you sit up, careful of your bandages and pushed the tray towards you. But since you were still high on pain meds, you couldn't feed yourself. So, they looked at the camera in the corner for a couple of seconds, as if waiting for a command, then nod and begin feeding you. One of them sits by your side and wipes your mouth, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, while the other spoon feeds you the warm soup. Then they open up the tiffin, and you once again scrunch up your face in disgust at the green peas in your rice. You turn your face away when they try to feed you the rice, and when they look at you questioningly, you point at the peas and make a face. The guard besides you had a hard time controlling the snort that almost escaped him, he just cant believe how childish and adorable you are. The other guard just sighs and looks at the camera for a few seconds, before nodding and begins picking out all the peas from the rice.

Suddenly, you take ahold of his hand, halting his pea-picking. "What-" he stops mid-sentence when he sees how you're looking at him- all star struck as you squeeze his hand in gratitude. "You- you're picking out the peas for me? You're- you're such a mice- no, not mice- a nice man! I love you!" Yeah, the pain killers definitely made you loopy, but that didn't mean the guards weren't 100% enjoying you in this state. And they were just so glad that the masks they were wearing were able to hide their blush and smiles.

After eating the rice, you didn't even give the guard a chance to grab the vanilla pudding as you suddenly snatched it, baffling the guards at this sudden burst of energy, and pretty much inhaled the sweet treat. The guard next to you wiped the corner of your mouth as you slurred. "S-sorry, its- just been too long since I had a 'nilla puddin" You smiled lazily before passing out on the guard's shoulder. The two looked at each other before shrugging and tucking you in, silently agreeing that this kid was actually kinda cute.

A couple of more days pass and the square faced guard still hasn't let you returned to your bunker where the rest of the players are. He says that you still haven't fully recovered, despite you telling him otherwise. But you're not complaining, a little less trauma is good for you. Plus, the circle faced guards, who you now call thing number 1 and 2, have been doing their best to keep you entertained. Sometimes they'd sneak you in an extra pudding cup, sometimes they'd bring in a deck of cards (after assuring you that this wasn't one of the games where'd you die if you lost). Even your rice were pea-free now!

Its hard to tell time in there, considering there aren't any clocks or someone who'd tell you what day it is, but judging by the meals they've given you, you think its your 10th or 11th day in the infirmary, and your stitches are almost healed by now, not to mention they took your blood and told you everything was good too. But they still won't let you go. That's when the fear of organ trafficking comes back to you like a rollercoaster.

It makes perfect sense, doesn't it? They've been keeping you healthy, watching you 24/7, having you on a strict diet and medicines, all because they want to take your organs and sell them.

You demand thing number 1 and 2 to let you go, to let you return back to the other players (where you think you have a better chance of survival). But they simply shake their heads, telling you to go back to your bed.

You panic, you know you should've bided your time, should've come up with a plan, but you panicked. Instincts kicked in and you pushed one of the guards down, taking the other one by surprise as you kicked him in the nuts, quickly snatching one of their guns and running out of the room. You knew there were cameras in every corner of this place, and you knew back up was coming to take you down, but that didn't stop you from running back to the bunker room, hoping to get the players on your side as you all band together against the guards.

But when you reached the room, it was... empty. Completely empty, even the bunk beds were gone now. Did they... all die? Did the games end? Did they escape? Or are they still playing another game?

You didn't have time to ponder more as you heard footsteps behind you, but as soon as you turned around, you were hit on the side of your head with something heavy by the man with the square on his mask. Thing number 1 and 2 were right by your side as you fell, and the last thing you saw before losing consciousness was a strange man in black that stood out amongst the sea of red guards.

You woke up to the sound of Sinatra's "Fly me to the moon" playing. Opening your eyes, you saw you were in a different room, not in the infirmary. The theme of the room was black and gold, with shiny marble floors and lavish furniture, a completely different aesthetic from the pastel colours you had been observing in the entire game.

Wait fuck- I'm not- I'm not trafficked to some rich perv, am I?

Your oncoming panic attack was stopped when the door suddenly opened, and in walked the same dude from before, the one clad in black.

He walked towards you with long strides, confidence and authority dripping off him. He pulled a chair besides you and sits down.

"How are you feeling now?"

"That's an ugly mask. Darth Vader's would've been better."

You both stared at each other for the next few seconds, giving you some time as you try to understand why you said that to someone who you're guessing is going to kill you soon.

"How are you feeling now?" He repeated his question.

"Like shit." You furrowed your brows at him. Hey, if he's gonna kill you, you might as well piss him off. "Look buddy, I was promised a fair chance at winning the prize. So, I'm not sure why you're holding me here instead of letting me play the games-"

"The games have ended."

Oh.

Oh shit.

You gulped. "So... I'm going to die now?"

"No."

"You're going to let me go home? The players decided to quit?"

"No."

"Well, then why am I still here?"

He stared at you, the few seconds feeling like he was going to deliver some very bad news to you. "I... have been looking for you. For quite some while." He watched your face turn even more confused. "I've been observing you ever since you entered the games."

Oh, there it is.

Nostrils flared, you couldn't help your anger. "So you've been watching me like some fucking creep? And now you wanna do it with a girl who's just barely legal? What the fuck-"

"Shut up." He said in a stern voice, that immediately had you shutting up.

He then took off his mask, revealing an older man, perhaps in his late 30s or early 40s. Setting his mask to the side, he looked at you and cleared his throat. "Many years ago, when I was 10, I had a little brother and sister, aged 6 and 4 respectively. We were very poor. When our parents used to leave for work, I was in charge of taking care of my siblings. But since money was tight, I started working in a rice field to help out the family." He paused, his eyes glazed as he recalled the past. "The owner would pay me by giving me rice. Half a pound of rice for a days work. I would bring that back home and cook it for my siblings. Sometimes if we were lucky, I'd even add some veggies- usually peas since they were the cheapest. But my sister didn't like peas, and she would pick them out. My little brother would eat all of her peas happily, even giving her his own portion of the rice." He smiled. "Jun Ho, he was always like that, the more caring of us three. So when one day I fell ill, he decided to cook the rice while I was supposed to keep an eye on our sister. But I- I fell asleep. I didn't mean to, but I did and the next thing I woke up to was her screaming. I rushed to where they were and found out that she had accidentally touched the hot stove, burning her hand. I grabbed her and took her to the nearest clinic. The doctor was able to apply some ointment on her hand and bandage it up quickly, but when time came to pay, I realised I had no money on me. One of the nurses said that she'll keep an eye on you while I went home to get money. But when I- when I came back, the nurse told me our parents had already paid the dues and taken her home." He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was so stupid- I believed her. When I returned home, my parents were all panicked as they asked Jun Ho and I about you. Jun Ho had told them what had happened, how I took you to the doctor, but they didn't see my sister with me. And I didn't see her with them. Thats when we connected the dots and realised what had happened. My sister... she had been kidnapped. And it was all my fault."

You watched as the man straightened his back, as if trying to regain his composure. "I tried to find her, never stopped looking for her. But Korea's a big place, and I didn't even know if she was in Korea anymore. I left my family when I was 18, promising myself to only return when I found her. That's why I do this, that's why I... conduct this entire game. This game- its funded and watched by some very rich people. People who are so filthy rich that they don't know what to do with their money so they bid on the poor to see who would win and who would die. I thought... I thought that if I was able to use their resources and contacts, I would find my little sister. But then she entered the game."

"She died?" You asked.

He shook his head and smiled. "Almost. But I pulled her out of the game and now she's here. As is my brother, Jun Ho."

You nodded slowly. "Well, that's... great. So happy for your family reunion. Thanks for the story, can I leave now?"

He suddenly grabbed your hand, turning it to reveal the scar on the side. "You're my sister, Y/n."

You pulled your hand away. "Hey man, just because I don't like peas doesn't mean I'm your sister. Besides, this isn't a burn scar, its a birth mark, an ugly one but that's that." That's what you mom always told you.

"I tested your blood. DNA sampling, you're my sister." He said, pulling out a test report from his pocket.

"Well, I suppose you could fake a test report with the kind of money you have."

He raised a brow at you. "Why would I lie about something like this?"

"I don't know. Maybe this is another one of the sick games you're playing for those rich bastards." You huffed. "Besides, what did you think was going to happen? That you'd tell me some sob story and I'd believe you? And I'd just take your word for it and sit here for a family reunion, especially after you just confessed to hosting these sick games, murdering people for pleasure?"

"I don't host the games. I just manage them."

"Oh, thanks for clearing that up. That just makes it so much better." You said, rolling your eyes. "Now, if you're gonna kill me, then you better get to it right away. If not, let me go. I already have a family I need to take care of."

He smiled smugly. "What family? The ones you came here for? The ones who kidnapped you? Yeah, they happily gave you up in exchange for paying off their debts."

What? No, they wouldn't.

"You're lying-" He pulled out his phone to show you a video of your parents talking to the guy who was filming the video, agreeing to give you up in exchange for money.

No, they couldn't do that- fuck!

You looked at him, eyes teary yet furious from both the betrayal from your parents and at this man. "You probably forced them to. Or maybe this is just doctored. Doesn't matter. I'm not theirs or anyone's to give up!"

He pulled out a handkerchief and held it to you, but you smacked his hand away. "If its any consolation, they're dead now." He said nonchalantly, nodding towards the phone.

You watched as your parents signed off a contract and as soon as they did that, the man that was filming this shot them dead. You felt like a freight train had hit you as the sound of the loud shots ringed in your ears, your dads eyes rolled back into his head while your mother's mouth fell open in horror.

Dead? They- did they just die?

"They were never your parents-" You lunged at the man causing him to fall off the chair as you punched him. "YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH! YOU FUCKING PYSCHO! I'M GONNA KILL YOU-!" But you were no match for the man, as he quickly grabbed your wrists and flipped you over, watching you struggle to get out of his grip.

He pressed on some pressure point on your neck and watched as you fell asleep instantly. Sighing, he carried you back to bed, tucking you under the soft covers. Brushing the hair out of your face, he kissed your forehead.

"Maybe you'll feel better when you see Jun Ho. He was your favourite among us." He smiled, walking towards the door.

"Welcome home, Y/n."

Part 2 is here!

[clairenatural]

look at you, strawberry blond

destiel, 1.8k. pining, fluff, growing up together, etc! minor character/parental death, vague mention of John’s A+ Parenting. based on the mitski song  (this is a repost because the first one got deleted)

I love everybody because I love you

Castiel first learns what love is when he’s eight years old and Gabriel, sixteen, is grumbling about driving an hour out of his way to find his girlfriend the rare chocolates she likes for Valentine’s day.

“Why?” he asks his older brother, and Gabriel sighs, melodramatic as always.

“That’s love, little bro. Remembering the little things and then putting in the time to make it happen.”

Cas thinks about when he told Dean his parents don’t let him eat candy. He thinks about how Dean has given him half his Kit Kat bar every day for the last year.

He thinks about the time he scraped his knee falling off the jungle gym and Dean spent the rest of recess picking dandelions to make him feel better. Yellow is his favorite color.

“Oh.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Cassie. Love is about sacrifice, and commitment--” he goes on, but by the time Michael cuts him off, yelling from his office that you’ve only been dating for two months, Gabriel, stop preaching to Castiel, Cas has already sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom.

A broken piggy bank, $1.50 in pocket change, and several pleas to Gabriel later, and Castiel tucks a king-sized Kit Kat into Dean’s valentine box.

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

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

It’s eight years later, one summer in high school, when Castiel realizes that there’s a difference between loving and being in love, and that he is, in fact, in love with his best friend.

He realizes this as he watches Dean walk away, sandals discarded and unnecessary in the soft grass, back to the picnic tables to get them both more fruit punch. It’s the annual junior class picnic, the official welcome to being upperclassmen, and the August sun casts a warm glow over Dean’s freckles, and Castiel knows.

Two seconds later, he watches Dean nearly get hit by an errant frisbee and completely forget his punch mission in lieu of playfully tackling its thrower, Benny Lafitte. He watches Lisa Braden, giggly and glowing and perfect as always, yelp as she’s almost caught in the crossfire, and Dean winks at her as he releases Benny.

He swallows thickly and turns his attention back to the patch of grass they’d been laying in, flattened where Dean had been just a few moments before. He wishes he hadn’t come to this particular realization.

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached

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

I love everybody because I love you I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

Castiel goes to college in Chicago and pretends like the two-hour drive between them doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t, until Dean’s father gets a job back in Kansas halfway through his freshman year. Dean goes with him even though he’s an adult because the alternative is letting Sam deal with John alone, so Castiel spends most of that summer in Lawrence, dodging both his friends in the big city and his family back in Pontiac. He tells them all that he’s studying Kansas’ role in the Civil War, assisting in research back at the University, but he and Dean spend two months going on road trips with Sam.

His sophomore year John dies and Castiel flies back for the weekend, explaining his sudden departure as a family emergency and getting an extension on two papers. Dean holds his hand at the funeral but won’t look him in the eyes for two hours after, even as he refuses to leave Castiel’s side.

The boys move in with Bobby but that summer Dean shows up in Chicago, explanations lined up about not worrying about Sam anymore and wanting to see what about the city made Cas keep coming back. Castiel gets an internship and pretends like that was the plan all along. He quietly cancels his plane tickets to South Dakota.

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache

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

Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind You tell me you love her; I give you a grin

Dean stays in Chicago. He moves into Castiel’s empty room when his original roommate moves out, he finds work at an auto shop, and he starts taking mechanic classes at a community college. Castiel isn’t sure why—he doesn’t want to ask. Afraid to look the gift horse in the mouth and risk having his happiness bitten off.

Then Dean starts talking about a girl. Then Castiel meets the girl, Cassie Robinson, and it all makes sense.  

He pretends it doesn’t sting every time Dean brings her up, that the way his face lights up doesn’t burn, that he doesn’t feel physically ill the first time he meets her.

By the time Dean tells him he’s in love, gushing about Cassie in a way eerily reminiscent of Gabriel twelve years earlier, it’s turned into a dull ache that Castiel has mostly contained in the back of his chest. They’re on their way to Cassie’s apartment, the first stop on their way to a cabin spring break of their junior year, and the ache is suddenly threatening to break through his ribcage.

But the sun is warm on his cheek, and the radio is playing a soft summer soundtrack, so Castiel allows Dean’s happiness to wash over him long enough to forget who—or, more importantly, who isn’t—causing it. He grins at his best friend before turning his gaze back out the passenger window of the Impala.

Oh all I ever wanted was a life in your shape So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines, Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

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

Look at you, strawberry blond

Dean and Cassie break up, and Dean drinks for a month, but Castiel getting into Stanford for grad school distracts him just long enough to go back to normal (a normal that does not involve thinking about how Dean nearly kissed him when they were both drunk the night he got his acceptance).

This new normal involves staring graduation in the face, and California beyond that, and moving out of his Chicago apartment somewhere in this middle, which also involves coming to terms with moving away from Dean.

Until Sam gets his own acceptance to Stanford a few months later. Then Dean starts sending him links to two-bedroom apartments, and using “we” when talking about the move, and looks just as confused as Castiel when he asks about it.

“Well, yeah. I mean, with you gone, and now Sam—You thought you were going by yourself?”

And even though Castiel vaguely thinks this is a bad idea, and living with his best friend who he’s been in love with for his entire memory had been hard enough for the two years they’d been doing it, he can’t say no. Because every time he gets up the nerve to say something Dean calls him over and shoves his laptop into Castiel’s face, talking about hiking trails and flower fields and front lawns and dogs, and that quells any doubt he had.

They move to Palo Alto, into a townhouse with a lawn and a communal garden. Dean adopts a golden retriever.

Fields rolling on, I love it when you call my name

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

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm? Watching your arm

Two months into Castiel’s first year of graduate school they have a picnic, taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the California fall. Sam is off in the field playing with Zeppelin, obviously having used the ‘come meet my brother’s dog’ excuse to invite the pretty blonde woman (Jess?) chasing the golden with him. Dean is rambling about Star Trek and Castiel is paying half attention, the majority of his focus on the reading in front of him because professors don’t consider picnics an extension-worthy excuse.

He’s just started to get invested when he hears a yelp and looks up to see Dean Winchester, his best friend, most trusted confidant and the possible love of his life, swatting a bumblebee. Cas gasps, reading forgotten, and lunges across the picnic blanket to grab Dean’s wrist. “Dean.” He chastises, and Dean gives him a look.

“It’s a bee, Cas.”

“It’s a bumblebee, which are essential—”

“To our ecosystem, yeah, but it’s pretty essential to me that it doesn’t sting me.”

“It won’t sting you if you don’t swat at it.”

“You didn’t see the look on it, man. It meant business.”

“Bees are attracted to sugar. You probably just smell good.”

Dean grins. “You calling me sweet, Cas?”

And, well, no. He isn’t. He’s talking about the empty pie tin next to Dean. But the words make him realize just how close they are, how far he’d moved into Dean’s space in his efforts to stop his hand, how the force of the movement had pushed Dean almost back onto his elbows.

He opens his mouth to respond the way he usually does to Dean’s cavalier flirting, but the words don’t leave his mouth—which is, somehow, he swears, closer to Dean’s than it was a second ago. Just as Castiel is preparing to push back, clear his throat, and add this moment onto a growing list of almost-but-not-quite moments stretching back years, Dean sucks in a breath and closes the gap.

Castiel reacts before his brain can fully comprehend what’s going on, bypassing any shock entirely and kissing Dean back immediately. He lets go of his wrist, instead bringing his hand to the side of Dean’s face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Dean pushes himself back up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling him essentially into his lap, and then they’re kissing, and Dean smells like summer and tastes like apple pie, and Castiel suddenly understands more than ever why bees are always buzzing around him.

It feels like a lifetime until it’s over, until they’re just staring at each other and out of breath, both scared to say anything and break the magic they’d accidentally created. The silence is only broken by a shout from across the grass, followed shortly by a tennis ball that nearly misses them, followed by 65 pounds of golden retriever that does not miss them and nearly topples Castiel in his pursuit of the ball. And then Sam comes running after the dog, still shouting—apologies, this time—and then there’s Jess, laughing hysterically, and then Castiel has to scramble out of the way because Zeppelin has made a U-turn, interpreting the whole commotion as a game of keep-away.

Dean meets his eye above the chaos and grins, and the sunlight hits his dirty blonde hair, and it’s so breathtaking Castiel almost forgets to smile back.

I love it when you look my way.

[kshira]

Bryce, baby, love. I need more raw with the Tokyo Revengers boys. How much will it cost? *digs through purse for wallet and all the loose change* um um um *breaks my piggy bank open*

Can we get Angry please?🥺 I have many gifts to offer

YOU KNOW ILL DO IT FOR FREE FOR U!!!!! <3333

okay, okay, part two will be a thought in my mind >:o

[anonil88]

The undoing e6 reaction

FINALE ?!?!

Could be the whole damn family at this point.

I vote dad but also mom and also son. I hope with this we will finally understand all the symbolism of the intro.

Also its always nice to hear Nicole singing.

She has so many flashbacks that it just makes me think she did it. But him doing this makes him an accessory or at least (tampering with evidence).

The lawyer looks shook and wowwwww what a fucking dick head.

The dishwasher ?!?!

Fucking kid.

She is compartmentalizing af.

This whole family gonna go down for murder unless someone just confesses. This lawyer could loose her damn license but she is saying everything in the right way.

Grace probably did it.

Aw shit he's pinning it on their son, what the fuck. I mean she could also have pushed that her son killed a woman so far down so far, that she is protecting him.

Why has the dad, Henry nor the granddad asked if Grace did it?

Ngl if I was her dad I'd be like if you did it just don't tell me.

Sis is so damn stressed she looks like she is going to have a coniption. Yo, what if she confesses on the stand.

I like this lawyers shirt.

Grace looking like a badass.

.....he cleaned his own tux and clothes like it was a stain from dinner. Wtf.

No Grace noooo don't you dare take this man back, even if you did kill her.

People were saying the lawyer friend isn't real, but she seems 1000 percent real.

Awww sis is about to sing sing sing like a canary to her bestfriend.

This coat is fitted like a damn glove on me Kidman.

Oh....her friend is at this trial ahem.

Awwww Miguel sweetheart :(

This is about to get messssssyyy:

Good lawyers are great on tripping you up on that witness stand.

Oh shit they are about to throw down on several front, GRACE SAY SOMETHING.

Time to confess.....oof yes time to give a confession.

What did her friend tell the plantiff lawyer or more so what did Grace tell her friend to tell the defense lawyer.

Oh she is going to speak on his character, but hey even she could be swindled by a moment of snapping.

He cannot commit violence, but her on the other hand......

This is gonna get bad.

Also her husband could not be violent, but could the man who is not her husband. The one who was living a double life for months.

Oh nooooo they are playing the 911 call.

Oh nooooo she is bringing up the dead sister.

Omg bringing up his mother:

BRUH.

THE TITLE, THE UNDOING!!!!

Time to break open that piggy bank of a brain Ms. Grace.

Wait, she wasn't looking at him o.o

Are her and sylvia.....

Oh snap, the lawyer knows he fucking did it!

Oh we are seeing the night?

Ew the trail of spit ew.

So she wholly....omg he took Henry.

Yoooooooooooo.

I WAS RIGHT.

Also he really fucking took Henry.

Henry is handling this really really well, even though he is terrified.

Yea, even if she asked you to kill her it was because you were leaving her when you could have just been like no im sorry ill stay as a lie and then go confess to your wife and get a divorce like normal people but NO you chose MURDER.

Wtf, omg wtf.

No, fuck you.

She is just relieved to have her son be okay. Everyone around her saw him for who he was, but she couldn't see it until he tried to take her son.

Wild.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #444

“the monster you made is wearing the crown  /  i’ll be the king, and you’ll be the clown”

Do you take off from school, or work for your birthday? Ha, I used to try to talk Mom into letting me stay home from school... It only sometimes worked. Have you ever created ‘open when’ letters for someone? No. That'd be cute for an s/o, though. What is the best thing about being in the relationship you’re in right now or about being single? Not having to fear my partner leaving because of the struggles I'm going through. Not having to worry about not being enough for another person, because I'm not even enough for myself. Do you have a favourite painting? Not by a historical artist, no, but there is a piece by a deviantART artist called "Denialism" (by NukeRooster/Tatchit, if you're interested) that I adore so much I've actually gotten her permission to get it tattooed one day when I can afford a brilliant artist to do it. What are some of the best life hacks you know? /shrug What makes you smile without fail? MARK LAUGHING laj;sdkafjwlk;erj Do you know what you’ll be getting your loved ones for the holidays this winter? No clue. That's still a whiles off. What is your biggest short-term goal (within the next month)? Just lose a decent amount of weight for a month's time. What will your next tattoo be of? It depends on what cash I have available, really. As much as it sucks, I think my next tat is a whiles off because I just have more pressing things to pay for. Has anyone very close to you ever died? Besides pets, the closest human to me that's ever died was Jason's mom. If you were throwing your significant other/best friend a themed party, what would the theme be? Uh, Frieza-related, obviously. Do you feel prepared for the apocalypse? I don't believe in the apocalypse in the biblical sense of it being determined by an ultimate power, so this isn't something I really think about. Whenever humanity ends, it ends. I don't have a say, so I may as well not obsess over it. Do you think you will have children naturally, adopt, or forgo having children altogether? I'm not having kids, but if I did, I know that either I'd have to give birth to them or my hypothetical wife would for me to feel *properly* connected to them as a mother should. Oh, or if my male partner had a kid from a previous relationship, but I'd have to be REALLY in love with him to feel like that child is also my own. Do you take pictures of yourself on a daily basis? Oh god no. Do you believe in angels? No, but rather just spirits. Is there anything in your past that you used to regret, but now you don’t? Hm, maybe? Does your knee hurt? My knees always hurt. Has anyone ever called you sexy? Yes. Do you like raisins? omg nooooo What is your favorite bug? Butterflies! :') Do you like Scrabble? Sure, it's fun for a board game. Do you have a printer? Yes. What is your favorite food? Cheeseburgers or pizza, probably. I know, so American. Have you ever overheard a conversation you weren’t supposed to? Yes. Do you like ants? They are very fascinating when you really think about it, but I still find them incredibly annoying. Did you like the movie Antz? I loved it as a kid. Have you ever drank goat milk? No, I don't believe so. What’s your favorite video game? Silent Hill 2 and Shadow of the Colossus. Do you like cats? I love kitties!!! :') Are goldfish your favorite fish? No. I think my favorite is probably the lionfish. Do you like vanilla pudding? No. I only like chocolate pudding. What is your opinion on gay marriage? I 100% support it and would fight to the death for it. What is your opinion on gay adoption? Don't even fucking look at me if you see a problem with a parentless child finding a home with two people in love. Who was the last person you had a crush on? Sara. What’s the most expensive piece of clothing you own? I have zero clue. Why do you drive the car you have right now? I don't have my own car. Have you ever seen your best friend cry? Omg yes and it sucks. Are you friends with your neighbors? No. What is your current desktop picture? One of my favorite pictures of my late pup, Teddy. What’s the coolest thing you’ve seen out the window of an airplane? Mountains! Does your neighbor have any pets? *shrug* Have you ever swam in a mountain lake? No, but that sounds VIBIN'. Has a cat/dog ever thrown up on your bed? alksdjflk;a;jdfalwe yes Have you ever had a concussion? One or two. Do you know anyone who has a pet gecko? Not currently, I think? I want a fat-tailed gecko, though. :( Would you ever go bear hunting? I wouldn't dare hunt ANY animal. Have you ever seen two movies at the theater in a row? I have not. How many teenagers do you know who have babies? I know no teen personally that has a child, but there were some pregnant students in high school. If you could keep your parents or trade them for other parents, which would you pick? I would NEVER change my parents. Is there a piggy bank in the room you’re in? It's not a "piggy" bank, per se, but my sister got me a skull one that she says is for my tattoo funds. :') How many sets of twins do you know? Two, off the very top of my head. If you have younger siblings, are you very protective of them? Yes. No one fucks with her for as long as I live. If you have older siblings, are they very protective of you? Not especially. Who is your favorite Disney Channel person? Uhhh, maybe Raven Symone? How many pets do you have? Just two. Do you think you will be successful in life? No. :/ What do you have pierced? My earlobes, twice, and my bottom lip. I have been dyinnnnggg for some new ones lately. :/ Does techno annoy you as much as it annoys me? No, I actually enjoy quite a bit of techno. What’s your comfort food? Ice cream. Do you like paranormal stuff? YES. Do you have a favorite stuffed toy? Rebel, my adorable meerkat plush from Jason, and Brownie, my moose from Cabela's. What’s the most exciting project you were given? In a way, my senior project since you got to choose your own topic, but I dreaded the presentation. Do you have a good sense of direction? Not at ALL. What are your favorite colour for a cat? Orange! If you had to live your life carrying a shield, what would its design be? This is gonna sound super, super cheesy, but probably a heart to symbolize how love should and could block the effects of hate and general evil and that we should pursue that instead of violence. Out of all the cancers, which one do you think needs to find a cure first? Oh god, they all do. If I had to pick one though, it'd be one of the inevitably fatal kinds, like pancreatic. What are your general afterthoughts when you’ve finished a book? I feel accomplished for actually reading to a story's completion. How many pairs of glasses (not sunglasses) have you owned? Two, I think? What color is your flash-drive? Hot pink. Have you ever built a sand castle? Yeah. How many houses have you lived in? Six. One I have no memory of. Do you shut off the water while you brush your teeth? Yes. What video game should everybody play at least once? Amnesia: A Machine for PIgs for the symbolism. It blows my mind how most horror fans hate it; it's like they totally miss the point. 100 years from now, what modern things will people look back on and say, “WTF?” Hopefully things like homophobia, racism, misogyny, concepts like those. What is impossible to understand until it happens to you? Mental illness, to name only one thing. What fictional food item from a television show, cartoon, movie, or video game have you always wanted to try? Hm. There's a lot that has looked super good, really. What’s something that gets much more hate than it deserves? Nickelback, lmao. What phrases or sayings drive you crazy? "Everything happens for a reason," "it could be worse/some people have it worse," "it's all part of God's plan," "just think positive"... a lot of stuff. Do you have a deviantART? I do, even though Eclipse made it fucking suck. I only really stay because I cling to the dying hope of being at least somewhat successful on there, and I enjoy keeping tabs on the artwork of the hundreds of people I watch there. Who is your favorite character in your favorite movie? Mufasa, even if he doesn't last long in the movie. :''''''( Have you ever been to Germany? No, but I'd love to! What is your favorite holiday? Christmas. Have you ever been ice skating? No. The blades on the skates scare me. Have you ever taken a karate class? No. Do you have any nieces or nephews? I have a lot, if you include my half-siblings' kids. Do you own an Xbox? Nah, I've always been a PlayStation gal. Would you date someone who’s well-known for cheating? Nope. Would you break up with someone your parents didn’t approve of? No. I'd consider their reasons, but ultimately, it's about me loving the person. Could you be in a relationship without sex? Yeah, sure. It's not ideal, but I mean if the other person is just very opposed, I'm certainly not forcing them. Emotional intimacy is more important to me, anyway. Have you ever been “friendzoned”? Yep. :') Briefly, anyway. Jason tried for my sake, but it was VERY short-lived by no one's fault but my own because all I know how to do is fuck shit up when it comes to him. Which “famous couple” is your favorite? LOOK Mark and Amy are FUCKIN GEMS Have you ever “destroyed” a relationship? Pretty fucking much. Are you the “dominant” or the “submissive” part in a relationship? I'm submissive by nature. Do you think Valentine’s Day is overrated? No, I think it's a cute holiday. Which do you feel is worse of the two to smoke: weed or tobacco? Well, weed has more carcinogens, but at least it has actual health benefits. Who did you last see that you haven’t seen in ages? *shrug* Are you photogenic at all? God no.

[tabloidtoc]

Globe, May 3

You can buy a brand new copy of this issue without the mailing label for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Prince William and Prince Harry: Showdown at Prince Philip's Funeral

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Alec Baldwin, Kathy Ireland, Conan O'Brien grabs lunch in West Hollywood

Page 3: Meg Ryan, Heather Graham, Jon Voight steps out in Beverly Hills

Page 4: Kris Jenner says her role as momager of the Kardashian clan is like being a fireman because she has to put out so many heated squabbles -- satisfying daughters Kourtney Kardashian, Kim Kardashian, Khloe Kardashian, Kendall Jenner and Kylie Jenner takes skill and Kourtney is often so fed up she fires her three or four times a day, but Kris believes she's done a good job, saying she's totally dedicated to her brood and spends oodles of time and energy going the extra mile for them

* Jailed Ghislaine Maxwell is raising a stink over federal lawmen's claims she's a prison piggy, saying the institution's busted sewer pipes, not her toilet habits, are responsible for the overwhelming stench in her cell -- lawyers for sex perv Jeffrey Epstein's accused madam and sex trafficker leveled the charge to flush out prosecutors' claims the socialite's cage stinks like a hog's pen because she doesn't flush her toilet -- her lawyer Bobbi Sternheim insists there was a pervasive stench of sewage in Ms. Maxwell's unit, necessitating guards to flush pipes by pouring water down open drains in an effort to trap and disperse gaseous emissions and at times the stench in Ms. Maxwell's isolation cell has been overwhelming due to overflowing of toilets in the cell block above -- as for Ghislaine flushing, she does it often, at the guards' bidding even, though she doesn't use the commode in her cell due to lack of privacy

Page 5: Kelly Clarkson's tacky tales of pooping in trash cans and other crude antics are grossing out her alarmed pals, who fear divorce stress is pushing the talk queen over the edge and while Kelly has loved to shock people, her cringeworthy behavior has gotten worse since filing for divorce from music manager Brandon Blackstock, father of her daughter River and son Remington -- now Kelly has many fearing she's finally flipped after recently telling talk show guest Clint Black on-air she destroyed a poor trash can by pooping in it during a quick backstage concert break and she's constantly making potty jokes and seems to get a rise out of shocking people and even by Kelly's standards, this was a step too far and people are urging her to scale back on the belching, farting and gross anecdotes because they're a turnoff and make her look trashy and her grueling workload and prickly divorce has manifested in this gross behavior where she can't seem to hold her tongue and blurts out whatever she's thinking without consideration for other people -- other stars like Gwen Stefani and Blake Shelton are thinking twice before inviting her to social events and for talk show rivals like Ellen DeGeneres and Drew Barrymore, it's a dream seeing her push the boundaries of taste and Kelly doesn't have a filter and as long as she's got an audience she's just going to keep on doing it

Page 6: Macaulay Culkin is the daddy of a brand-new baby girl named Dakota, who is named after Macaulay's sister who died at 29 in a 2008 car crash, and she was delivered by Macaulay's lover actress Brenda Song

Page 7: Angelina Jolie has become a stressed-out single mom trying to care for her brood of six during the pandemic lockdown, and the strain is is showing on the 98-pound actress, but the 45-year-old, who shuns hiring a full-time nanny, still wants sole custody of her underage kids Pax, Zahara, Shiloh, Knox and Vivienne, and is fighting tooth and nail with ex-husband Brad Pitt to get it; their oldest Maddox Jolie-Pitt is now 19 and considered independent although the university student frequently lives with his mother -- caring for the gang puts a big drain on Angelina's bank account and her custody war with Brad is costing a pretty penny -- Jolie and her children spend most of their time bunkered in a massive 7,500-square-foot Los Feliz mansion that boasts a huge library lined with resource books but the kids need to be separated so they can concentrate on their individual Zoom classes and someone is always hungry or needing help and at the end of the school day, when they are bored, they end up looking for Mom to find them something to do while she is trying to work on her own projects, and like most siblings, the kids fight or argue, and that can test any parent's nerves and Angie is with the kids pretty much 24/7 and it's taking a toll -- there is a glimmer of hope as schools are close to reopening and once the five youngest are back in school for several hours a day it will give Angelina the breaks she needs and hopefully she can hang tight until then

Page 8: Cover Story -- Prince William and Prince Harry bury Prince Philip, but not the ax -- despite their public displays of grief, bitter brothers William and Harry erupted in a raging royal screaming match behind the scenes of their grandfather's Prince Philip's funeral and Princess Diana's sons lashed out, accusing each other of ugly betrayals and destroying the royal family and the princes blamed each other's wives for igniting the family feud and their showdown was explosive and they're refusing to forgive or make peace and any hope Philip's death will end this feud is pie in the sky -- Harry and William were forced to reunite to mark the Duke of Edinburgh's passing and comfort their grandmother Queen Elizabeth, but that doesn't mean they're kissing and making up; far from it because Harry and his wife Meghan Markle have caused so much damage with their TV interview, it will take a lifetime to heal this rift -- sparks began flying almost immediately after Harry landed back in his homeland. He went straight to his former marital home Frogmore Cottage in Windsor to quarantine under COVID rules while William and his wife Duchess Kate Middleton and their three children were holed up at their country home Anmer House in Norfolk, about 100 miles away, but that didn't stop the once-inseparable brothers exploding in fury at each other during a video call finalizing funeral arrangements -- William and Harry knew they'd have to walk together behind the cortege to honor their grandfather, but that was where their reunion ended and while their grieving grandmother and royal relatives mourned the loss of the family patriarch, William and Harry's pent-up anger and frustrations exploded as, on the same side of the Atlantic for the first time in over a year, William blasted Harry and Meghan for bad-mouthing his wife Kate and selfishly trying to destroy the monarchy and he reamed Harry for not visiting their grandfather in his final days and using the funeral as a publicity stunt while Harry retaliated by accusing his brother of throwing him and Meghan under the bus and vowed never to talk to him again -- instead of an expected joint public statement praising their beloved grandfather, they issued separate tributes, which underlined their split as in their statement, William and Kate reminisced about Philip taking their children for horse-drawn carriage rides and they vowed to support the queen in the years ahead and that was a dig at Harry and Meghan, who can't help the queen due to their self-imposed exile to California and it was also a shot because Harry's son Archie has spent no time with his royal relatives since his birth almost two years ago -- Philip's death has only intensified this horrific feud and this war is far from over, and may never be

Page 10: Prince Philip went to his grave regretting he couldn't stop Prince Harry and his wife Meghan Markle from ripping the royal family in a bombshell TV interview -- The Duke of Edinburgh called the explosive tell-all madness and he had some sympathy for Harry and Meghan's desire to do their own thing, but he thought they were wrong and he hated Harry and Meghan's preoccupation with their own problems and their willingness to talk about them in public; one of his rules was give interviews but don't talk about yourself -- Philip loved Harry and thought him a good man, but he did not believe they were doing the right thing for the country or themselves when they quit royal duties and Philip died worrying the explosive interview permanently damaged the monarchy and he deeply regretted he wasn't able to prevent the scandal

* Outraged Prince Philip shunned his son Prince Andrew's ex-wife Duchess Sarah Ferguson for the last 19 years of his life after she was caught cheating in raunchy photos that went public -- Philip considered Fergie beyond the pale and refused to have anything to do with her and when Sarah was staying at Balmoral Castle with her daughters, her ex-father-in-law would run from a room she'd entered and Fergie said it was ridiculous because as soon as she came through one door, he'd be falling over the corgis to get out of the other and she added it was very funny, except, of course, it wasn't -- the only time they appeared together in public was at Prince Harry's 2018 wedding, 26 years after Fergie was photographed lounging topless while her then lover John Bryan sucked on her toes on the French Riviera; she and Andrew were separated at the time

Page 11: Marie Osmond is getting the last laugh on rival Sharon Osbourne after the big-mouthed Brit, who chased off Marie from The Talk, was booted from the chat show in a racism scandal -- while Marie doesn't wish ill on anyone, she certainly isn't feeling any sympathy for Sharon's plight -- in public, Marie has never said a harsh word about Sharon, and never blamed her co-star with pushing her off The Talk, but behind the scenes, Sharon made mild-mannered Marie's life hell, which chased her away and Marie still cringes from the whole experience of working with the brash former reality diva, more than seven months after leaving the show and Marie doesn't want to stoke the fire, but it's kind of satisfying in a way that Sharon's finally being exposed for what she is: a snippy, smug phony

* Chaka Khan was the first celeb booted on Season 21 of Dancing with the Stars in 2015, and it's no wonder because she was a lousy partner, claims pro hoofer Keo Motsepe -- Keo slammed the singer for demanding they only rehearse around midnight, because that's when the night owl was used to going to the record studio and laying down tracks -- Keo accepted the challenge but now calls Chaka his worst partner ever

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Jane Lynch eats lunch in West Hollywood (picture), Khloe Kardashian is getting called out for her attempt to erase a bathing suit snap that revealed some very real body dimples and famous for posting airbrushed and filtered photos depicting her as flawless she went berserk over the unedited pic summoning legal eagles to get the image scrubbed off the internet but she drew colossal backlash, Sutton Stracke of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills got promoted to series regular and impressed producers by making ousted castmate Teddi Mellencamp cry by branding her boring, fired New York Housewife Dorinda Medley has lost 14 pounds, Lil Nas X's limited-edition designer Satan Shoes which commanded $1,018 when they hit the market are now deader than a doornail after legal pressure from Nike

Page 13: Dean Cain sports a Superman-style logo on his hoodie as he bums around Malibu (picture), Annabella Sciorra shoots an episode of Blue Bloods in NYC (picture), co-anchor T.J. Holmes shows his tongue on the Good Morning America set (picture), Olympic champ Lindsey Vonn admits skiing was a slippery slope when she started mingling with the beautiful people of Hollywood

Page 14: Brooklyn Decker proves she going gray at just 34 and she's kinda digging it, Kathryn Dennis trying to prove she's comfortable in the natural skin she's in shared pics from her first-ever bikini photo shoot and actually points out imperfections

* Fashion Verdict -- Zoe Saldana 6/10, Kelsea Ballerini 3/10, Jessica Madsen 7/10, Joy Bauer 2/10

Page 17: Eddie Cibrian is incredibly proud of wife LeAnn Rimes for baring the truth about her battle with psoriasis in a naked photo -- Eddie applauds how LeAnn let it all hang out for a photo shoot to show solidarity with other people with the scaly skin disease who are ashamed and want to hide it -- LeAnn has described the horrors of hiding her painful, crusty rashes, saying onstage she'd wear two pairs of pantyhose or jeans, even in 95-degree heat and underneath her shirt, her whole stomach would be covered in thick scales that would hurt and bleed, and the pandemic worsened her condition because stress is a common trigger for psoriasis, and with so much uncertainty happening, her flare-ups came right back

Page 19: 10 Things You Don't Know About Catherine O'Hara

* Sylvester Stallone may have gone his final round as boxing great Rocky Balboa as his reps reveal the actor has thrown in the towel and won't reprise his iconic role in the upcoming Creed III -- in the Creed spinoffs, retired fighter Rocky trained Adonis "Donnie" Creed, the son of his onetime rival

* Dr. Dre hit back against the abuse claims of estranged wife Nicole Young, slamming her allegations as appalling in recently filed court documents in their ugly $1 billion divorce -- in the docs, Dre charges Nicole hurled the accusations only after realizing their prenup may prevent her from getting half his money, but Nicole insists the rapper forced her to ink the agreement, a charge he also denies

Page 23: Caitlyn Jenner is refining her image ahead of her run for governor in California by reducing her massive breasts to look more conservative -- she wants to downgrade her E cups to a more respectable C cup because she's been worried for a while they are way too big within the context of her body and draw unflattering stares and running for the California governor's office is serious and she wants people to listen and look at her face, not her boobs and the truth is, the implants have been weighing her down and giving her back pain too, so this makes sense in more ways than one -- Caitlyn will be slowly abandoning other cosmetic procedures and she would like to wean herself off filters and Botox too, but that'll be a gradual process that she'll do as time goes by and the big thing here is that she wants to look more natural and relatable for voters

* Nearly half of America is ready to vote Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson into the White House -- 46 percent of voters are ready to rock and roll with the 49-year-old former WWE wrestler as their prez -- in his new sitcom Young Rock, Dwayne plays himself as a future candidate for the Oval Office, but in real life he has admitted he is seriously considering a run for the top job

Page 24: New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo, now facing two separate investigations into sexual harassment charges made by at least eight female staffers, is accused of cheating on longtime love Sandra Lee -- there's obviously a reason Sandra moved to California; she literally could not have moved farther away from Andrew; she's on the edge of the Pacific

Page 30: Grace Kelly died nearly flat broke -- the Hollywood starlet gave up millions to marry Prince Rainier of Monaco, and when she died at the age of 52, her only assets were a cottage in Ireland, owned by her grandfather, and $10,000 -- in 1956, she married into Monaco's royal family after coughing up a $2 million dowry, which is about $20 million today, and walking away from a glittering career -- according to a new documentary, her Hollywood earnings have disappeared as during her film career, Grace's total earnings could have reached $1.5 million, earnings that appear to be entirely missing from her will, but thanks to Grace, Monaco's royal family has cashed in big-time as her son Prince Albert II has an estimated net worth of $i billion and his wife Charlene Wittstock is rumored to be worth $150 million -- most people think of Grace Kelly's story as a fairy tale, going from Hollywood and suddenly being whisked off to a lot of wealth, but what is so poignant is that she had to pay to become a princess

* LeVar Burton may soon be helming a new enterprise: Jeopardy! -- nearly 200,000 people have signed an online petition supporting LeVar to replace the game show's late host Alex Trebek and LeVar supports the idea himself

Page 32: Kirstie Alley had two husbands and once claimed she was crazy about John Travolta, but for decades she secretly carried a torch for a married man: Patrick Swayze -- Kirstie described Patrick as the one that got away and truly believes they would have been together until his 2009 death at age 57 if things worked out differently and she says her love for Patrick began on the set of the 1985 miniseries North and South where she thought he was the most handsome, sexy, kind person she'd ever met, and each day on the set, she began to fall more and more in love but at the time they were married to other people: Patrick had his wife Lisa Niemi and Kirstie was married to Hardy Boys actor Parker Stevenson, her second husband -- Kirstie and Patrick shared a deep emotional affair and confessed their love, but never actually cheated on their spouses and Kirstie said they had an affair of the heart -- Patrick and Kirstie played lovers on the series and you can see the chemistry and at least once a year Kirstie watches the series and reminisces about the time she spent with him -- she says she cried for months after his death and she and his wife Lisa eventually became friends and even today, Kirstie wonders what would have happened if she and Patrick had not been married to other people

Page 36: Sally Struthers reveals she quit Save the Children charity after she was nearly murdered by a gang of bloodthirsty rebels during a trip to visit African orphans -- Sally was a roving ambassador for the charity for 35 years until a terrifying incident in Uganda where she was filming ads with a boy, who'd come from a remote village, when suddenly a roving band of guerrilla warfare guys came out of the bushes and asked the boy where he was from and he named his village, which was far away, and they decided they had kidnapped him, and they were going to shoot all of them and Sally was terrified and figured she was a goner, but a priest with her group told her to slowly walk off while never turning her back on the terrorists and as she walked, he convinced the gunmen to let them alone and at that point, Sally, who had a daughter Samantha from her six-year marriage to shrink William C. Radar thought she's been on so many little airplanes that could have crashed and in so many horrible situations and she's got a child, a real-life child of her own, and she can't do it anymore

* Usher is being accused of stiffing Las Vegas strippers by tipping them with fake money with his moniker and mug on the bills -- the flap exploded with a Twitter post slamming the singer for handing out Usherbucks in $100, $20 and $1 bills at the club Sapphire Las Vegas but club honcho George M. Wilson denies the charge, saying Usher, who stars at Caesars Palace stating in July, was a true gentleman and great guest and he and his crew converted thousands of real dollars to tip the girls dancing on the stage and left a generous tip for staff and apparently someone in his team left some Usher dollars on the floor to promote his Vegas residency and that is where it seems the confusion came in

Page 40: Val Kilmer is shooting for more than a career comeback after bouncing back from throat cancer; he is also looking for love -- Val admits he doesn't sound like he used to following a tracheotomy, but he insists he feels a lot better than he sounds but his voice is a raspy, grating sound, and he's forced to eat through a feeding tube, but he feels that shouldn't matter with the right woman -- the actor, who is slated to appear in the upcoming Top Gun: Maverick, is pumped up about working again, but it's dawned on him that he's missing one other thing, love, and the single star feels more energy now than ever before and there are things he'd like to do with a partner, like travel more -- Val regrets some of the things he did in the past and he was difficult and selfish, but his whole cancer ordeal has made him a better man and more open and giving but it's been a long, long time since he had a girlfriend, let alone even kissed a woman, but with the support and encouragement of his kids and friends, he's ready to put himself out there

* Fans are saying Christopher Meloni has one of the most remarkable rears on TV after a photo surfaced showcasing his awe-inspiring ass-ets -- a shot of the Law & Order: Organized Crime star in skintight jeans sparked a Twitter-storm where fans of his fanny let loose about his sculpted caboose

Page 44: Straight Talk -- Holly Madison is blabbing about her eight years as Hugh Hefner's No. 1 squeeze in the Playboy Mansion, and, if he were still alive, the king of skin mags would hate that he pretty much comes off as a dirty old lech

Page 45: Paula Abdul was a nervous wreck during her American Idol comeback, but she was not so jittery she couldn't brand her former co-judge Simon Cowell an STD -- special guest Randy Jackson and Simon previously teamed with Paula in the 2000s to make the talent show the biggest hit on TV, and Paula temporarily resumed her role after Luke Bryan tested positive for COVID-19, but when Randy told Paula seeing her on set seems like old times, she blurted "We're just missing the STD," and the remark caught host Ryan Seacrest off-guard as he held a computer device linking Paula and Randy, who was not physically present and Ryan exclaimed, "The what?!" and at that point Paula joked she meant it was an abbreviation for Super Talented, Debonair not sexually transmitted disease -- Paula also referred to Simon, who's only three years her senior, as a grandfather and while Paula seemed in the swing of things, joining the current Idol panel of Katy Perry and Lionel Richie, she was reportedly a bundle of nerves backstage before her comeback show and it was like she'd never done it before, and her pals couldn't believe it; they told her she had more experiencing judging than anyone out there

[agemstale]

May 25th 1995

This was the first day that Pearl and Amethyst felt comfortable enough to let Opal play with the other kids out in the yard. Still such a tiny fragile child but has gotten stronger and feisty over the years watching the others play from her bedroom window. Her parents opened the back door for her and she took her first step onto the back porch. Opal tightened the grip on her favorite toy dow that she took with her everywhere, the sunlight blinded her for a moment. She took in the moment to listen to the others wrestling and playing on the swing set. Then when Opal opened her eyes again, her best friend Garnet stood before her. 

"OPAL!" Garnet yelled, holding Opal's hands. 

Garnet was a messy afro hair tot with tights and a ragged skirt from wrestling with Opals elder brother Sugilite and their friend Malachite. Her shirt was already covered in dirt though just arriving so her parents Ruby and Sapphire could head to work. 

"Garnet!" Opal yelled back, then hugged her tightly. 

Pearl kneeled down to garnet and said, "Now don't get Opal into any of your rough housing, she still a tiny lil thing and i don't want her getting hurt." 

"Yes sir." Garnet replied before pulling Opal away out into the yard.

"GARNET! HELP GET THIS DUMB BOULDER OFF OF ME!" Sugilite yelled as he was being tackled down by Malachite. 

Malachite holds Sugilite's face into the ground with his foot then pins him down, "Don't be such a wimp. If you didn't want to get your butt kicked, you shouldn't have started it!"

Garnet then steps into the fight and broke them apart, "Both of you are stupid boulders, cant you see we have a new friend today?!" 

The two boys turned their attention to Opal as she nervously waved. 

"Who are you?" Malachite snared. 

"That's my sister, Opal you ignoramus!" Sugilite snared back. 

"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT WORD MEANS!" Malachite refocused his anger back on sugilite. 

"OH YA! WELL, NEITHER DO YOU!" sugilite snapped trying to charge at Malachite. 

"BREAK IT UP YOU TWO!" garnet finally pushed them apart. 

The two boys fall onto their butts knowing who the clear winner of the fight is. 

"Maly! You go chill with Opal. Sugy your with me." Garnet ordered. 

"Fine! You win gar." Malachite stood up and brushed himself off. 

"Next time ill defeat you both in a fight." Sugilite declared as he stood up and was pushed away by garnet.

"Ya, ya. You say that every time" Garnet replies.

Malachite then turns to Opal with his hands behind his head, "So why havn't I see you around if you live here."

"My dad told me I'm too small and fragile to play with you guys." She replies then thinks to her self, "I can see why."

"Well if you can't fight. What can you do?" Malachite questioned. 

"I can't still play tag!" Opal excitedly proclaimed. 

"Fine, you can be chaser then. GET ME IF YOU CAN!" Malachite shouted as he raced off. 

Opal chases after him as fast as she could, testing her skills as he dodges and weaves her passes. She runs at him again but then she sees a butterfly beneath her feet. she slips and falls onto her left arm.

SNAP!

the sharp sound pierces everyone's ears.

Garnet pauses in shock then runs to Opals side.

Lapis and pearl see this and rush out into the yard and separate the kids. Lapis tightly holds on to her own child "IM SO SORRY!" 

"I new it was too soon to let her play with the others." Soon pearl realizes the issue and rushes Opal to the hospital.

Lapis and Amethyst set Malachite and Sugilite down and explain to them what has happened and why they need to be more careful around opal. 

Lapis takes Malachite home.

May 26th, 1995

"It's time for school!" Lapis yells to malachite to get up. 

Malachite stumbles out of his bedroom and into his mother's bedroom then asks, "hey mom? Can I stay home today?" 

As Lapis was just finishing getting dressed, she then turns to her son, "what! Why? Are you sick?"

"Because I wanna see if opal is okay." He replies.

Lapis sighs, "You can see her when you get home AFTER school." 

Malachite yell "BUT MOM?!"

Lapis snaps back, "I SAID NO! NOW COME ON AND GET DRESSED, we already slept in too late. "

Malachite huffs and heads back into his bedroom.

When they start to leave, he grabs his backpack as he heads out the door with his mother. He tosses his backpack in then gets in himself, as Lapis gets in and lays her own school bag into the passenger sit, se looks back to her son through the rearview mirror.

Malachite disappointedly looks out his window, thinking of how he could make things right with Opal.

Lapis drives Malachite down to the bus stop, "now please be good. And have a good day... I love you." 

Malachite says as he is leaving the car, "I love you to." 

Lapis rushes off to try and make it in time for her own classes. As soon as her car is out of sight, Malachite runs back towards home. 

He runs up to their apartment and tosses his back pack on to the floor. Then goes to his room and smashes open his piggy bank then scrapes up his savings and leaves again. 

He walks through town to a flower shop, buys a dozen tiger lilies and then heads to Opal's house. 

As soon as he reaches their door he beats it trying to get someone to answer. 

Amethyst opens the door with a yawn. "Oh hey kid, aren't you suppose to be in school?" 

"Yes ma'am" he replies, "but I wanted to bring opal a gift to say I'm sorry for what happened." Showing the flowers. 

Amethyst takes them and says, "Thanks, but she is fine. It's only a broken arm." She smiles rubbing the back of her head. "But now you should be getting to school. Do you want me to drive you?" 

Malachite replies, "No, I was hoping to see her as well. MA'AM!" 

"What's with the formality?" Amethyst asks.

"My mom said it helps to be nice and use formal words to get the things you want." Malachite says nervously.

Amethyst laughs, "Well I guess it wouldn't hurt if you stayed. She is up in her room first door to the right."

 Malachite quickly hugs Amethyst then soon rushes up the stairs into Opal's bedroom. 

He finds Opal is still asleep, so he pulls up a chair next to her. Amethyst later walks in with a vase with the tiger lilies and clear water in it. He sets it by opals window. Then leaves. 

Time goes by as Malachite awaits for her to wake up contemplating what he will even say to her. 

Soon its noon, Amethyst walks in with 2 plates of food and sets them next to Malachite on the desk behind him. 

Malachite, "Is it lunch time already?" 

Amethyst replies "yep" as she gently nudges opal. "Honey, it's time to wake up." 

Malachite freaks out and silently yells "NO IM NOT READY, I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT I’M GOING TO SAY TO HER!" 

Opal sits up and yawns, "good morning mama" she rubs her eyes then looks to Malachite, "Oh?! Hey! You were that boy from yesterday." She smiles

Malachite blushes and turns away blushing, "I got you flowers."

This makes Malachite blush even more as opals eyes light up. "They are beautiful!"

Amethyst snickers, "Yes, he felt so bad, he even skipped school for you." then leaves. 

Opal: "THANK YOU MAMA! " 

They grad their respective plates and eat in silence. 

After Malachite finishes he says, "Well I guess you are okay, I'll just head home now." 

"You don't want to stay?" Opal sadly replies. 

"You want me to?" He says facing away from her.

"Well it dose get really lonely here sitting in my room all the time." Opal pleads. "Just promise you'll come see me again tomorrow okay?" 

Malachite turns to her face fully flushed "Why would you want me to stay? I'm the reason you got hurt!" 

"I.. I don't think you meant to break my arm. I am willing to give you another chance if you want. I don't really have many friends anyway so.. I'd like it if we could be friends."

[thornstocutyouwith]

Name:  Quindell Nicholas Parker VI

Meaning of Name: Quindell: The Great, Nicholas: Victory of the people, Parker: Park Keeper

Nickname(s):  Quin, Nick, Quincy, Wendell, Wendy, Nicky, Parker, Cole, Sleeping Beauty, Prince P.I.T.A., The Prince of Nothing, Pauper Prince, Dell, Ker, Nico, Prince Quin (Or any other nickname), Kindle,

Age: 33

Birthday: December 18

Species/Nationality:  Human(?)/American, Polish, Slovene, Romanian, Welsh, Icelandic, Serbian

Accent: No

Language spoken: English, Italian, German, French, Dutch, Spanish

Powers:

Unknown

Weaknesses/Illness/Allergies: Allergic to fish, Traumatic Brain Injury, 

Pet: Cinnamon Ferret (Sonic, Male)

Occupation: Captain in a local well known mafia (Rivals to Noah Bellamy) and owner of a popular Spa

Faceclaim: Tom Payne

Description:  

Outfit/Accessories/Jewelry:

Height: 5′ 7″

Weight: 123

Body Build: Athletic (Formerly), Underweight/thin (Currently)

Backstory/Background:

Past

Quindell VI was born out of wedlock to Alis and his father, Quindell V. His mother was mostly a stripper who had tended to get around town quite a lot. While his father had been the heir to a popular and wealthy company at the time he met Alis. Alis had been the young Quindell V’s favorite stripper and would treat her almost like a girlfriend, perhaps in a futile attempt to break Alis’ wild, slutty ways. Alis toyed with this special attention, as his wealth seen that she could want for nothing. That was until he had proposed to her after a night of wild sex.

The next day she skipped town and Quindell V would be nothing more than a blip in time of her life, or so Alis had thought. Nearly three months later she had found that she was pregnant. By then she had already gotten into a relationship with another man, as she was not the ideal weight she had been to appeal to most costumers she was used to picking up, her fling was less than ideal. Abusive, even. When it was found that she was pregnant with Quindell VI, she was beaten.

Months later Quindell Jr would be born into the world, it was a lackluster affair. Alis grew bored with her new son very quickly. To deal with her abusive boyfriend she would often abandon the baby to get lost in drink or drugs for hours. That was until child protective services caught wind of what was going on. On and off Quindell would be taken from his mother’s care only to be returned until he was about six years of age. When after being severely beaten by a belt across the back, Quindell could not show up for his usual check ins. This was the final straw, despite the clear need for him to be taken out of that home sooner, to finally get him removed.

Nearly a year later he was placed in a home with a couple who wanted to foster him. It was during this time where he was discovered to have a talent for musical instruments, especially in the cello. Not long after, because of his skill and adaption to the instrument, he was viewed as something of a ‘prodigy’. However, it seemed that his stroke of bad luck continued as he again suffered abuse, both in sexual nature and mentally with his foster parents. They were arrested and Quindell was again placed into the system, before again being returned to his mother Alis when he was a teenager. She had remained destitute and now looked scarred and older than her actual age. Quindell would again face abuse with Alis’ new husband, who was a man that was strict, and if any of his rules were broken, you knew about it with a fist to the face.

One thing Quindell did have to rely on in his life was his talent for playing the cello, however. Alis and her husband had only seen him as a piggy bank, which was the only reason they fought to bring him back into their care after discovering that he was riding on a full scholarship by a local newspaper in the Miami news. This had brought him some fame and attention, as well as his attention attending a wealthy private school most of his school days. Quindell’s money he would earn in his performances were forcibly handed over to his mother who, with her husband. would often spend on drugs and other wasteful things for themselves, only leaving Quindell with the bare essentials.

By the time Quindell graduated high school he had been tired of playing the cello and not being able to reap from its rewards. He had, essentially, become so depressed by these circumstances he was in that he gave up on anything that made him unique, or truly fulfilled and happy. He settled for just being another cog in the machine. This would lead to him falling into a life of crime first in selling drugs, then in poisoning people, which had caught the eye of the Ivory Serpents recruiter who found him.

Once he had gotten into the gang Quindell quickly, with his knack for knife throwing and poisons, began to kill his way up in the rankings of the gang. He managed to make Captain after a couple of years and had managed to keep that position solid over the course of the next years of his life. He was quickly known to be one of the members of the gang that you did not fuck with because of his tendency for sudden hostilities and violent outbursts. Oh, and the murdering of his own. That would probably play plenty of factors of his scope of intimidation within the organization. He sees everyone as fair game.

When Quindell was around thirty or so years of age he fell in love with a man who was persistent in capturing his affection, to the point Quindell would say they were obsessed with him. The two would start an affair with one another, Quindell, being wealthy from his former drug dealing and eventual owning a a massage business in Miami, often liked to lavish his lover in finer things. Then came one night where the two were in his apartment fooling around before dinner. When it came to eating his fling served the meal. Quindell got a few bites in before realizing something was wrong with his dish.

What had been wrong with it was that there had been fish disguised with the rest of the meal in it, a food he was allergic to. While he started to gasp his lover walked over toward him, spewing some nonsense about how he had killed someone they deeply cared about, and how he would pay for it then, there, and now. Laughing at the man, Quindell asked ‘who’ before he was grabbed by the throat and slammed onto the ground. As the man he thought loved him tightened their fingers around his throat, leaving him gasping for breath, they promised to make his death ‘fit for a king’. Quindell had momentarily passed out after that.

When he woke up next, mere seconds after his would be assassin stepped away, he managed to get onto his side and look around for one of his weapons. Finally getting to his feet he ran toward a dresser yanking the drawer open and pulling out a throwing knife laced in a deadly poison of his own concoction, just as the assassin ran toward him, he threw it deep into their chest. Only to be grabbed and thrown around like a rag doll. The pair struggled, Quindell managing to finally get the upper hand, throwing the other into his large living room window/ sliding door.

The window gave way under both their weights, shattering and sending them falling onto the balcony. Quindell took out another knife and tried to throw it at the assassin, only to be tackled by them and thrown over the edge of the balcony. However, he had managed to stab his knife deep into the assassin’s back, managing to catch himself before falling completely when the knife got lodged into the assassin’s body. He only had a split second to attempt to come up with a plan before suddenly they were both tipping over the balcony and falling down toward concrete three floors below. The last thing he heard for nearly two years was his body hitting something hard.

Present

Over the next two years Quindell’s affairs and business were handled by his lawyers. For those two years he was, as was written in his files, left on life support. With no one being able to decide whether to pull the plug on his life support, he mostly faded back into obscurity, forgotten. The doctors predicted that he would possibly never wake up from his vegetative state. However, early in December of 2020 he suddenly woke up. Since then Quindell has been working on his release from the hospital and therapy overall, not making much contact with his former gang as he was recovering. Though he has nearly finished with the required half of his recovery, seemingly regaining full functions over his body and mind to their near normal functions once more.

However, through this incident his biological father has managed to locate his son and has made contact with his son, leaving Quindell with a new sense of superiority over everyone, more than he already had.

Future

(Work In Progress)

Criminal History:

Quindell’s criminal traits began at an early age. He was notably violent as a child, beating up other kids in his school or doing other harmful and cruel things. He would often steal from his peers, but then graduated to stealing from stores. He’d pick fights intentionally and beat the hell out of anyone who so much as looked at him wrong, just for fun.

His reputation got around fast, even faster when he got into selling drugs for a living for a while. He almost completely made his own drug empire; however, before he could do so, he was approached by an Ivory Serpent recruiter who ‘liked his style’ and soon he became a soldier of the gang. Quindell wasn’t satisfied with that though, so he started working his way up the ladder as quick as he could to get more money.

This led him to an initiation mission of killing a Crimson Reaper. He poisoned them with a paralyzes before shooting them in the head execution style. Then the body was buried for him by other gang members while he dealt with the trauma of his first kill. It did not take him long to learn to deal with this sickening feeling of killing, as his thirst for wealth outweighed it at the end of the day. He set his eyes on climbing the ladder within the gang with a new sense of viciousness to him.

Personality:

Erratic, Adaptable, Hostile, Seraphic(Angelic), Empathetic, Patient, Reliable, Orderly, Cheerful, Logical, Vague, Treacherous,  Accessible, Captivating, Fun-loving, Physical, Insensitive, Strict, Emotional, Moody, Stubborn,Vindictive,  Outspoken, Cute, Superstitious, Malicious, Excitable, Snobbish, Extreme, Irrational, Arbitrary, Insulting, Silly, Tense, Venomous,  Tactless, Crazy, Aloof, Intimidating, Delusional,

Quirks/Savvies/Other: Left brained, Left handed, 126 IQ, Blood Type: B-, He has had sex with more people than he has seriously dated, Is in it (Ivory Serpents) for the money, Has a talent for throwing knives,  Quin has an extremely low tolerance to alcohol, Played the cello professionally (Child prodigy), Practices kyusho jitsu (Black Belt), Wears glasses/contacts, Never went to further his education after high school because he was too busy making SO much money and buying The Rub Down already, Has a bit of brain damage from a devastating fall he suffered nearly 3 years prior to current events( of the year 2020) which left him in a two year coma that he has woken up from in the last month or so, Is distantly related to a now dead royal dynasty,

Likes: Throwing knives, Playing the cello, Being dramatic, Sex, Drinking, Drugs, Making poisons, Herbalism, Kyusho Jitsu, Racing cars, Motorcycles, Philosophy, Math, Economics, Relaxing, Cooking, Plays, Bargain hunting, jigsaw puzzles, Practicing martial arts, Practicing instruments, Training in weapons, Ice cream, Dog grooming, Chocolate, Hiking, Musicals, Paleontology, Dinosaurs, Dogs, Reading, Pretending he grew up wealthy and spoiled, Acting like his sliver of a link to royalty is more important than it actually is,

Dislikes: Fish, Checkers, Toads, Dolphins, Modern art, Trains, Puppets,

Fears: Kind of afraid of cats, Achluophobia, Zombies, That everyone hates him, Haphephobia

Personality Tests: ENTJ-A, The Individualist (Primary), The Achiever (Secondary), The Enthusiast (Thirdly), 4w3 (The Enthusiast), Neutral Evil, Slytherin, Slytherdor, Horned Serpent, Abraxan Winged Horse Patronus, Element: Fire, Temperament: Choleric/Sanguine,

Other: Sagittarius, Chines Zodiac: Fire Rabbit, Mayan Zodiac: Serpent, Celtic Zodiac: Hawk,

Parent(s):

 -> Father: Quindell Parker V

-> Mother: Alis Zabłocki

Sibling(s): Only Child

Starters

Chat’s

Para’s

Face

Stuff

Information

Asks

All

                                                                              Alternate Universes

[ducktracy]

92. buddy’s adventures (1934)

release date: november 17th, 1934

series: looney tunes

director: ben hardaway

starring: jack carr (buddy), bernice hansen (cookie), billy bletcher (king/cop)

ahhh, a promising start, right? anything telling you that buddy is on an adventure means it is just going to be CHOCK FULL of action packed fun! actually, the buddy cartoons WOULD take more of an adventurer turn, a trend adopted by some of the porky cartoons (most notably porky in wackyland). in an ill-fated hot air balloon ride, buddy and cookie end up in “sourtown”, where the residents aren’t nearly as open to accepting buddy’s optimism.

a good start to the cartoon: buddy dumping sand bags off an ascending hot air balloon, accompanied by an anxious cookie. buddy has gotten his final redesign—i like it a lot! i think it looks much better than his earl duvall version. he appears much more likable and cute. cookie’s also gotten another redesign, both reverting to their tom palmer roots in a way.

buddy exercises his genius by remarking “look, cookie! in a few minutes we’ll be on mars!” cookie laments “you and your dirty inventions, i wish i hadn’t come along! i’m afraid!” initially, i didn’t think much of the opening. i laughed at the ridiculousness of buddy suggesting they’ll go to mars—but now that i think about it, it’s a good opening. opening right in the middle of some “action”, establishing some personality. buddy makes inventions and has dreams of exploring, unflappable optimism benefitting him and him only. i think that’s cute! maybe i’m just desperate for any shred of personality in these darn characters.

buddy laughs in dismissal, saying “what’s there to be afraid of?” a lightning crack and boom of thunder put him in his place as he sinks in the basket, laughing sheepishly “must’ve been something i ate.” i think this is the most we’ve ever heard buddy talk in a cartoon. well, maybe not, but some cartoons he only says one word! it’s refreshing.

anthropomorphic storm clouds further put an end to buddy’s optimism, a cloud blowing the balloon around and another boxing it like a punching bag. there’s a strange scene as the surroundings around buddy and cookie melt, like a dream sequence. i was REALLY thrown off—is this the wizard of oz? another porky’s romance? wholly smoke? or the great piggy bank robbery? is it a cartoon surrounded by a demented dream? evidently it was just a jab at some cinematography, as everything focuses back to normal. i applaud them for trying something different, but it doesn’t deliver and comes off as vague and confused, motive muddled in time.

some snake storm clouds spit lightning at the balloon, snapping the lines to the balloon. buddy and cookie tumble in the air, the falling basket thankfully scooping them to relative safety. the basket slide across a few cliffs like a sled, and the couple skids past a sign that reads “TO LEMONIA — THE SOUR DOMAIN”. they narrowly skid under a bird (a dodo? buddy in wackyland?) who laughs as they whiz by... quickly eating his guffaws as an anchor hooks on the bird’s foot and drags it along.

an anthropomorphic castle swallows up buddy and cookie as they slide into their new domain, the sled breaking against a sign. buddy’s optimism is endearingly amusing as he announces “...well, here we are!”, refuted with a “alright, buddy, where are we??” from cookie. a sign welcoming them to SOURTOWN answers cookie’s inquiry. perhaps a neighboring town to the one in the rankin bass santa claus is coming to town special. rules include: NO LAUGHING, NO SINGING, NO DANCING, and NO JAZZ MUSIC. the past 92 cartoons broke down to their bare essentials!

of course, buddy laughs off the arbitrary rules, already setting himself up for danger. cookie scowls at him and points offscreen—a great gag of laurel and hardy in stocks, imprisoned for smiling and laughing respectively, laurel sniveling incomprehensibly.

nevertheless, buddy is undeterred as he leads cookie through the town, the two of them pausing to watch a trio of men saunter through the streets, accompanied by furtive music. the men gather in front of “YE PESSIMISTS CLUB” (relevant today, huh? and drink some vinegar, just to show us how really sour they are. it’s certainly coy but amusing. they sing about how they never laugh or smile, life just a bowl of lemons. i thought one of the laws was no singing, and yet they’re singing about how they hate singing?

good hearted buddy interrupts their groveling, correcting in a sing song voice “pardon me, but you’re all wrong. life is much more cheerful! that’s no way to sing a song, listen and get an earful!” he grabs the spare mandolin one of the curmudgeons had been using and sings a song of his own (haven’t found any indication as to what it is he’s singing). buddy is still pretty bland, but this is the most personality we’ve seen yet, and i enjoy it! i love my optimistic characters, so maybe that’s it. various animals and plants scat along with buddy, an angry woman closing her shutters and silencing any form of singing from the wildlife.

an amusing gag as a police officer takes off his hat and peers inside, a note reminding him that the laws include no dancing and no singing. hard to remember, ain’t it? he approaches buddy and cookie, the pessimists scramming at the sight of the cop. he tells him that they’re headed for the “sour pen”... that’s a new one! he rides away on his scooter, buddy and cookie shanghaied in a little box behind him.

we finally meet the king of sourtown, a man who sequences lemons on his head and drinks the juice. a beverage fit for a crabby king! i love how asinine this entire cartoon is. it reminds me not even of disney, but like a pseudo willy wonka setting. it’s nice that we actually have some story structure and plot, and that buddy and cookie converse with each other as have a sliver of personality to them.

the king spots buddy and cookie, insisting they’ll “be sentenced to the spanking hand.” sure enough, YE OLDE SPANKING MACHINE awaits. absurdly strange, but good! i suppose. this isn’t phenomenal, or great, even, but it’s a refreshing change from the monotony we’ve been seeing as of late. cookie asks “what do we do?”, to which buddy whispers back “leave it to me!” and whips out a harmonica from his pocket.

highly amusing to watch buddy blare the harmonica in the king’s face, running around to all sides of him and making sure to get up in his business. it reminds me of the droopy cartoons by tex at mgm, a little pest you can’t get rid of. tex’s the blow out would also serve as a precursor to those cartoons, porky in droopy’s place, and tortoise beats hare would be an expansion of the blow out. fascinating! anyway, buddy’s is delightfully annoying, on purpose this time. cookie dances to the harmonica music as a line of knights observe, the king exerting every effort not to succumb.

gradually, various knights themselves become inflicted with the jitterbug, one of the knights using a leg from a suit of armor as a saxophone. the king’s beard dances, as do his legs snapping together... finally, he admits defeat, declaring “it’s got me, pal! it’s got me!”

cookie conducts the knights, who join in on a chorus, and the whole town becomes enthralled with the power of music! the king shows off his slick moves, animation jaunty and appealing. he even slips off the rug and lands straight into YE OLDE SPANKING MACHINE (i love the YE OLDE), breaking into a fit of hysterics. back to buddy and cookie, who are sitting on the king’s throne, cookie sporting buddy’s hat. iris out as the two of them embrace.

with every review, i watch the cartoons twice. once for the initial reaction, and once when i’m going back and typing the whole shebang. first watch, i didn’t like it very much at all. i thought it was boring and coy, the ending where they all dance being the true highlight. but thank god for the second watch—this is now one of my favorite buddy cartoons, if not favorite. it’s not a fantastic cartoon by any means, it still leaves a lot to be desired, but it also fills SOME holes. buddy’s design is much more tolerable, boyish and cute. his optimism, albeit pretty one-dimensional, is very uplifting and endearing. the absurdity of the whole cartoon was very refreshing, and i’m glad we actually had some plot this time. it felt like a very subtle, subdued, distant relative to porky in wackyland. maybe because of the dodo bird in the beginning? it was an enjoyable cartoon, and i recommend it! it still isn’t perfect, the first half dragged on for quite awhile, but it actually stands out as a cartoon i can recognize and look back on in future reviews. the 1934 season has seldom been memorable.

link!

[bluestarruby77]

Opal and Malachite

Name: Opal Bellmorhe Gender: Female Age: 4 Weight:  Height: Eyes: Opal White Illness: minor Osteogenesis imperfecta (OI) Name: Malachite  Age: 4 Gender: Male Weight:  Height:  Eyes: Malachite Green Name Garnet  Age: 5 Gender: Female Weight: Height: Eyes: Left: Garnet Purple, Right: Sapphire Blue Illness: Defective Right eye so her mother donated hers. 

After years of being pushed around in a wheel chair, drinking a shit ton of Orange juice and milk, eating yogurt, and going through non stop therapy sessions. She begged to be able to go out and play with the other kids that always came to their house. This is the first time Malachite and opal meet.

Opal ,while carrying her favorite toy bow, and Malachite are playing tag together. Opal gets distracted by a butter fly. This pissed off Malachite and he tosses a rock at her. "Hey stupid! You were playing with me! Opal, "ow!" she starts to cry Garnet get out of the swing and starts to walk towards them. "Hay! Play nice!" Malachite "Oh ya?! Make me!" He snarls Opal tightly grips her bow and walks over to Malachite at the same time as garnet but reaches him first. Her face down hidden by a shadow a tear falls. Malachite "what do you wa..." He is quickly cut off as opal pulls back her bow and starts beating Malachite. Then crack! Opals arm breaks. Garnet pauses in shock. That is what starts malachite' and opals relationship. Just the respect he had for her after that fight.. Lapis and pearl see this and rush out into the yard and separate the kids. They both bow to each-other while tightly holding on to their own child "IM SO SORRY!" Garnet goes to her parents "I was gonna stop them but..* Ruby stops her as he pats her head. Jasper and Amethyst are laughing at the stupidity of the situation and how Malachite got his ass beat by a girl much smaller than himself.  The kids are separated. Soon pearl and Amethyst realizes the issue. Amethyst rushes her to the hospital still so happy to see her hold up her own against some kid larger than her. Lapis and pearl set Malachite down and explain to him what has happened and why he needs to be more careful around opal. Lapis takes Malachite home. The next day, it's time for school for both Malachite and Lapis. Malachite asks, "hey mom? Can I stay home today?" Lapis, "what! Why" "Because I wanna see if opal is okay." He replies. Lapis sighs, "we don't have time for this. You can see her when you get home AFTER school." Malachite yell "BUT MOM?!" Lapis snaps back, "I SAID NO! NOW COME ON" Lapis drives Malachite down to the bus stop, "now please be good. And have a good day... I love you." Malachite says as he is leaving the car, "I love you to." Lapis rushes off to try and make it in time for her own classes. As soon as her car is out of sight, Malachite runs back towards home. He runs up to their apartment and tosses his back pack on to the floor. Then goes to his room and smashes open his piggy bank. He scrapes up the money and leaves again. He walks through town to a flower shop, buys a dozen tiger lollies and then heads to pearls house. As soon as he reaches their door he beats it trying to get someone to answer. Amethyst opens the door with a yawn. "Oh hey kid, aren't you suppose to be in school?" "Yes sir" he replies, "but I wanted to bring opal a gift to say I'm sorry for what happened." Showing the flowers. Amethyst takes them and says, "why thank you but she is fine, it's only a broken arm. We were quite lucky this time" he smiles rubbing the back of his head. "But now you should be getting to school. Do you want me to drive you?" Malachite replies, "No, I was hoping to see her as well. SIR!" "Whats with the formality?" Amethyst asks. "My mom said it helps to be nice and use formal words to get the things you want sir." Malachite says nervously. "Is that so," Amethyst ponders, "Well I guess it wouldn't hurt if you stayed. She is up in her room first door to the right." Malachite quickly hugs Amethyst then bows to him. Soon rushing up the stairs into the bedroom. Opal is asleep, so he pulls up a chair next to her. Amethyst later walks in with a vase with the tiger lilies and clear water in it. He sets it by opals window. Then leaves. Time goes by as Malachite awaits for her to wake up contemplating what he will even say to her. Soon its noon, Amethyst walks in with 2 plates of food and sets them next to Malachite on the desk behind him. Malachite, "Is it lunch time already?" Amethyst replies "yep" as he gently nudges opal. "Honey, it's time to wake up." Malachite freaks out and silently yells "NO IM NOT READY, I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT I’M GOING TO SAY TO HER!" Opal sits up and yawns, "good morning papa" she rubs her eyes then looks to Malachite, "Oh?! Hey! You were that boy from yesterday." She smiles Malachite blushes and turns away. "I didn't come here for you, I only came because I felt bad." Amethyst snickers, "Yes, he felt so bad, the poor boy even got you flowers." This makes Malachite blush even more as opals eyes light up. "They are beautiful!" Says Opal. Amethyst: "now eat up you two." Then leaves. Opal: "THANK YOU PAPA! " They grad their respective plates and eat in silence. After Malachite finishes he says, "Well I guess you are okay, I guess I'll head home now." "You don't want to stay?" Opal sadly replies. "You want me to?" He says facing away from her in a snarling tone "Well it dose get really lonely here sitting in my room all the time." Opal pleads. "Just promise you'll come see me again tomorrow okay?" Malachite turns to her face fully flushed "FINE" then storms out. Ever since that day, Malachite went to her house every chance he got.

[brokestminimalist]

You need an emergency fund.

In order to minimize your stress during an emergency, and minimize your risk of going into debt during said emergency, you need an emergency fund.

Now, let’s not play games.  If you’re paycheck to paycheck like us, creating such a fund can be a real hardship.  You want to put $10 a week in savings, but you need that $10 to buy gas to get yourself to work.  We feel you.  We live that every single week.

But consider this.  It’s Tuesday morning. You’ve got .27 cents in your savings and four bucks in checking, and your car breaks down.  It needs a three hundred dollar part, you don’t get paid till Friday, and your paycheck will only be $325, which leaves you $25 for gas, groceries, and anything else you might need for the next two weeks. Plus, with your car out of commission until Friday you’re going to miss three days of work and three days of pay.  If you have a particularly shitty job, you might actually get fired.

You’re screwed.

If, however, that .27 in savings was $1000, you’d just make a transfer on your phone, hand your debit card to the mechanic, and be back on the road in a few hours.  You might miss one day of work, not three, but it’s ok because you’ve still got $700 in savings to cover the missed hours.  

So it’s still a bad day, but you’re not screwed.

So how do you save that kind of money?  If you’re broke like us, bit by bit.  Cut your expenses as much as you can by creating a strict budget and assessing what things you need vs. what things you want but aren’t necessities.  It might seem impossible.  We know something comes up every week.  You set aside five bucks, but then on Thursday you run out of deodorant.  You set aside ten, but then you get sick and have to spend it on Sudafed and crackers.

We know, dudes.  We know.

Do what you can.  Automate your savings using direct drafts or even deposit a small % of your pay into another account.  An online savings account is ideal, they often have high interest yields but are still easily accessible. Or, hide a five under your mattress every week. Put your change in a piggy bank.  Do something, is what we’re saying.  We know it’s hard, but giving up isn’t an option.  If there’s an emergency then tap into it, and replace it as soon as possible.  

What have we done to fund our emergency savings?  No streaming media, no soda, no fast food.  That ten bucks we would have spent on Netflix goes into savings instead. It’s a slow process, but it’s better than nothing.  And hey, we’ll be honest.  We got sick a couple weeks ago and had to spend money on medicine and miss work.  Our account currently has $11.67 in it.  That’s our emergency fund.  Sigh.

We know how Sisyphus felt.

♫ INTERMISSION ♫

Now that you’ve got your emergency fund started, it’s important to decide what constitutes an emergency, so let’s consider a few scenarios.

Broken car: if there is no public transportation in your area, this is an emergency.  You need to get to work.  Tap into your emergency fund.

Broken house: If your toilet is broken, or your roof, or a window (and it’s winter and can’t wait) those are emergencies.  If you aren’t able to fix those yourself, tap into your emergency fund.

Broken appliance: If your fridge or hot water heater quit, those are emergencies.  You need food and you need to shower. Hit your emergency fund. (PS, if it’s your dryer then don’t, because air dries things for free.)

Lost your job: If you find yourself suddenly unemployed, you can use your emergency fund to keep your lights on and food on the table.  You need to find another job immediately, though.  That’s another post.

Illness or Injury: Got a cut that needs stitches?  Running a fever over 102?  You need to hit the urgent care clinic.  If you haven’t got insurance, tap into your emergency fund.

Broken glasses: If, like us, you are required to wear corrective lenses in order to drive a car, then yes, this is an emergency.  Replace them, and replace the funds in your emergency account as soon as you are able.

Sick pet: If your dog or cat or hamster needs to go to the vet, tap into your emergency fund.  We’ll probably have some readers who disagree, but if you have a pet then you’ve made a commitment to care for that animal in sickness and in health.  Denying medical care is animal cruelty. If you can’t afford the vet, you can’t afford the pet.

Now, what are not emergencies?  Let’s look at a few non-emergencies:

A new movie came out and you don’t get paid until Friday:  Well, wait until Friday, you whiner.

You want some pizza: No.

You need a new outfit for a party: No.

Your phone broke: Get a new one on Friday. You can get a pre-paid one for fiddy bucks.

Spontaneous road trip: No.

You forgot to buy Christmas gifts: Too bad, so sad.

Your friends have something cool and you don’t: Cry us a river.

Your Xbox died: Not an actual problem, move along.

As you can see, there are many inconveniences in life that may suck, but are not a valid reason to use your emergency stash.  Make yourself a list of acceptable emergencies and stick to it.  Obviously you can’t foresee everything that might happen in life, but use reason and be open-minded about what you’re willing to do without.  

Links: How to Start an Emergency Fund, Ways to Fund an Emergency Fund, Ally Bank, and finally, There is No Such Thing as a Bacon Emergency