#Minimal makeup gang wake up!!!!

[mentally-unstable-hottie13]

⭐️senior year sucks⭐️

Henry Bowers x FEM!reader

Chapter 1 here

Chapter summery: right as you were making progress Henry's crazy ass friends have to ruin it.

Word count: 3,161

Estimated reading time: 14 mins

A/N: thank you for being patient with me

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Chapter 7

That stupid fucking bandaid

WA! WA! WA! WA!

You smacked your alarm clock off the bedside table with a groan. You didn’t want to get up. Your bed was so warm and cozy. Who the fuck even told the sun it was allowed to come up? They should fall into a hole to rot while maggots feast on their ears.. You groan and throw the covers off you. It was Friday. The school decided not to have the first week of school be an actual full week so students could get back to being used to school. You wake up killer and take him downstairs to feed him before you get ready. To your shock, Kevin was awake and at the kitchen counter drinking his coffee. He was never a morning person so seeing him awake this early was a treat. You nod him a ‘hello’ before getting the bag of killers food. As you are bending down to pour the food in the bowl, Kevin starts to talk.

“I heard you with someone last night.” He states.

You stiffen.

“Hmm?” Is the best reply you can give.

“After you were in the kitchen last night I heard 2 sets of footsteps go up the stairs, and I know it wasn’t the dog.” He blows on his coffee before taking another sip. He’s not angry. Just curious. “Who was it?” He asks.

You finish with the bag of food and put it up. “I don’t wanna tell you” you say softly. You know Kevin doesn't care for the Bowers after telling you to not only stay away from that pig cop but also Henry and his friends. Kevin’s eyes soften and he sets down his cup.

“You don’t have to tell me, as long as you promise that you were safe.”

“I can pinky promise” you giggle.

“Good,” he gives you a short hug. “Now go get ready. I’m taking you to school today.”

You beam. “Really!?” You ask excitedly.

“Yeah I got some errands to do for the shop, I’ll drop you off then pick you up and we can buy you some shit for school.”

You run up the stairs to get ready and he laughs. You brush your teeth and hair, put on your minimal makeup then get dressed. Because you wouldn’t be riding your bike today and it was still a little chilly, you put on a blue and green, flower designed, long bell sleeve top that ties in the front. For bottoms you paired the top with a long ankle length white skirt. You left your hair down and added some jewelry to feel sparkly. You threw on your shoes, got your bag and ran downstairs practically leaping off the last few to get to the bottom floor faster. Kevin who was waiting by the door guffawed at your theatrics and opens the front door for you. Today killer would be staying home because of the errands Kevin had to do. If you could take killer to school with you, you would.

You arrive to the school a few minutes later than you usually do which means everyone was also getting there. You saw where the losers were and pointed to them.

“Those are my friends. Right over there.”

He looks at them as he pulls up to the front.

“Why not invite them to the shop after school Monday? I’ll buy some food and y’all can hang out?” He proposed.

You feel giddy again. “I’d love that.” You give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before hopping out of the truck. You pull up your skirt a little a jog to the losers. Kevin speeds away in his truck, passing the entering trans am full of teenage boys as he exits the school parking lot. Belch notices him.

“What the fuck is that weird dude from the record shop doing in the school lot?” Belch wonders.

Patrick laughs“Ohh~ didn’t you hear. Him and his little assistant are” he thrusts his hips. “Involved.” They all laugh. Well. All but Henry. They don’t know about you like he does.

“Shut the fuck up” Henry growls.

The gang didn’t know what the fuck was up today. They knew his old man was probably pissed about the knife. And after Butch “got on him” about shit like that Henry was always in a bad mood, but this morning was different. He was irritated at everything, everyone said.

The gang pulls into the lot and get out. As they exit they take a Quick Look around. Patrick is the one to notice you talking to the losers by the front.

“Ohoho boys, why did no one tell us the new hottie was friends with the freaks?”

Henry immediately looks up to where Patrick is facing. And sure enough, there you are plain as day. You're laughing at something one of those freaks said and have your hand on your stomach. He didn’t tell the guys he saw you in the woods. He just said he went after Beverly and she got away. Now there was no hiding you from them, from him. He wasn’t going to change his behavior to the group because of you. If you were in it, you were gonna get the same treatment, no exceptions. That was, at least around others. Henry was in control of people by fear. If he was suddenly nice to the losers, no one would fear his as much as they should. Henry was dangerous, and it’s better if everyone knew that right out of the gate so they didn’t get themselves killed. You knew it, you just, for some reason…. Pushed it aside. That’s what confuses him.

You and the losers walked inside as the bell rung and went your separate ways. You saunter into Chem class and take your seat. Leaving the window seat for Henry. He went through the ringer last night. The least you can do is give him his seat. Henry walks in with that signature sour look on his face. He glances at you before sitting down in his seat. The teacher turns off the lights and begins to project a video onto the projector screen.

A few moments into the video you look at Henry. His eyes are out the window, you take something out of your bag and slide it over to him. He looks down at the table to see a brand new bruise cream and 2 more of that stupid fucking band aid. He looks at you but your eyes are on the screen. He takes the bandages and cream and stuff them in his pocket.

You still have a black eye. He feels a little bad about it. Even with a big ass bruise on your eye you look so pretty. He can’t believe you are so kind to him. He wonders what the fuck your motive is?

Class dismissed and you wave Henry a small goodbye and leave. Classes from then on were just plain old boring.

The lunch bell rings and you get your of class. As you exit you run into Mike. You had no idea his class was right beside yours. You go to him and lock arms, as you walk with him the 2 of you discuss this new video game he’s playing. It sounds like a genuinely fun game. At one point Mike says something funny and you can’t help but laugh. You were always like like with friends. You held their hands, you hugged them, maybe depending on the person you kissed them on the cheek. Why be friends with someone if you couldn’t be close? So far the losers didn’t seem to mind.

As you laugh at what Mike said you pass the Bowers gang. To be honest you really didn’t even see them. Henry and Belch were leaned up agains lockers as you passed while Patrick and Vic stood in front of them.

Patrick whistles at you and you turn, Mike keeps walking. He knows better.

“Hey pretty girl. Why not take a ride with me tonight? I’ll give you the time of your night.” He holds up a v with his fingers to his mouth and begins moving his tongue between it.

You cringe at him and give a fake ass smile.

“No thanks man. I appreciate the offer but I like my men mentally stable and preferably bathed” you blow him a kiss and jog to catch up with Mike, who looks like he’s trying to become invisible.

Patrick frowned at your retreating body while the boys laughed at him. Henry sure as fuck didn’t like what Patrick said. But it looks as though you can handle yourself in a verbal back and fourth with the psycho.

Patrick turns to the group and hits Belch upside the head for laughing.

“Did you fuckers see that? She was walking around with that fucking crack baby?!” Patrick pouts. He’s trying to egg Henry on. He knows for a fact that Henry hates Mike more than any of those other freaks. “She was walking with her arm in his! The bitch was all fuckibg over him” Patrick continues.

It worked.

Henry growled and hit his hand on the locked before pushing off it to walk outside. The gang follows him, So ready to have some fun.

They march through the front doors and look around. They see all of you riding your bikes toward the bridge. He focused on you. You were on the back of mikes bike. With your arms around his waist. Where the fuck was your bike? He stomps toward the parking lot and the boys sprint to follow. The gang piled into the trans am and Henry lit up a cigarette as belch pulled out of the spot and tried to exit the lot.

You were currently having the time of your life. All of you were laughing and swerving the streets like birds. Mike let you hitch a ride with him because he actually had back pegs and a longer seat. The group of you were giggling your heads off at nothing in particular when you hear a loud sound. The sound of an engine. The sound of an engine coming right at you.

You look behind you and yell in fear.

“BOWERS!!!”

All the other losers look behind them and try their hardest to speed out of the way before the trans am could hit them. Lucky for them. They were aiming for you. Not just you. Mostly Mike , you were just a 20 point bonus.

They swerve to try and hit you causing Mike to also swerve in fear and drop the bike. Both you and Mike fall and look up at the boys in the car. Henry stood out of the windoe and flicked his cigarette at the pair of you.

“STAY OUT OF MY FUCKING TOWN!!” He screamed before getting back in the care and speeding off. As they sped you could hear them laugh as they kicked up dust. You and Mike cough and hack while he stands to offer you a hand. You gladly take it and rise. The others run over to you.

“Are you guys okay?” Ben asks worriedly.

“Of fucking course they aren’t. Henry just tried to kill them. Then he dusted them with this poison mixed with homeless men’s possessions” Eddie replied before you could while he took a puff of his inhaler.

He was in fact always this on edge.

You dust yourself off and get ahold of your coughing.

“I’m fine” Mike says. “Are you?”

“Yeah…yeah I think so.” You tried to dust off your skirt but for now it was a lost cause. You’d have to wash it to get all the grime off. What a shame. You felt really pretty in this skirt too.

What was that about? You knew you and Henry wouldn’t be besties but you thought he would at least not try to kill you? He was so confusing. There must be something wrong with that boy. He didn’t seem to mind you in class and now he was yelling at you to “get out of his town”? What the fuck does that even mean? You didn’t know that what he yelled wasn’t for you. It was for Mike, it just so happened that you were hit with the cigarette making it seem directed at you. You weren’t burned though. Thank god.

You really didn’t know how much more of this you could take. This boys mood swings were too much.

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You wide mouth yawn and rub the tiredness out of your eyes. You swear, schools purposefully make the last class of the day the most boring. They want you to sleep and fail. Those heartless school administrative heathens!

You stand up to leave class as school is dismissed and see Richie, Eddie and Bill walking out of the parallel classroom. You run up to catch them. You walk next to Eddie and join the conversation. They nod you hello and continue speaking.

Eddie continues talking. “So there's like this church full of Jews right? And Stan has to take this super jewie test.”

Ah. They were talking about Stan’s late bar mitzvah. Stan’s dad was the Jewish priest or something. Crazy how he didn’t get it at 13. I guess his family pushed it aside until now. On his 16th birthday.

“But how’s it work?” Bill asks confused

Eddie raises his hands and answers “they slice the tip of his dick off.”

You snort. You wonder how Stanley will handle his Brit Milah at such a grown age. That’s gonna suck for him.

Richie comments, “but then Stan’ll have nothing left!” He looks at you, as if for you to agree.

“Wow what a real knee slapper, Rich. Really. So funny I forgot to laugh” you reply.

“So which is it doofus? A knee slapper or so funny you forgot to laugh? Can’t be both moron.” He shoots back at you in that signature Richie way.

“Hey guys wait up!” Stan yells before running up behind Bill and Eddie.

Curiosity takes over Bill and he finally asks Stan, “So Stan…w-w-what happens at bar mitzvah anyways? Eddie says they slice the tip of your d-d-d-dick off.”

You all turn a corner down a hallway towards the entrance.

“Yeah and I think the rabbi’s gonna pull down your pants, turn to the crowd and say “where’s the beef?!’” Richie remarks and all of you laugh. Stanley explains to y’all that he reads from the Torah, does a big speech, and ba-bam he’s officially a man.

“I could think of way funner things to do to become a man.” Richie says.

“Yeah. Like Eddie's mom.” You snort.

“Heyo!!” Richie shouts before reaching above everyone to high five you.

You all pass the Bowers gang in the exact spot they were for lunch and the boys all keep their heads down. You. On the other hand, were so disgustingly stubborn and refuse to bow your head. You walked with your fucking head up. If they didn’t like it they could suck your metaphorical dick.

After you pass them Richie turns to y’all. “Think they’ll give me todays notes?” He jokes. You think if he even approached them they’d whoop his ass.

You all turn again and go down the stairs. You walk with the boys to meet with the others and pick up their bikes. After retrieving their bikes you all walk to the front.

“How are you getting home with no bike today?” Ben asks sweetly.

“ Kevin is pickin me up today.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” Stanly meekly pauses. “Is he like.. your dad or something?”

“No. He’s just Kevin.” You laugh.

They all look at you funny. Clearly wanting more details. You huff.

“We were friends growing up, I had some issues back home and he allowed me to come and stay with him. End of story. There’s not much to it.”

“You're so lucky you get to live with a friend though. It must be a lot of fun.” Beverly smiles sadly.

‘Wonder what’s up with that?’ You think as you look at her sad face.

Unexpectedly Ben’s phone rings. Blasting a 1 direction song. Beverly told you he was a boy band fanatic. Now you really see what she means. You and Beverly look at each other while the song blasts. You take her hand and the 2 of you begin dancing like children and giggling your heads off. You 2 laugh while singing the lyrics and hopping around while the boys laugh and watch.

“Baby you light up my world like nobody else.

The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed,

You both jump and flip your hair to the song.. well… kinda flip it. More like frantically headbanging while laughing.

And when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell,

You don’t know-oh-oh! You don’t know your beautiful”

Ben’s face is a bright red from embarrassment but Beverly winks at him as the 2 of you goof around and now he’s pink for a completely different reason.

While the pair of you danced, neither of you knew of the group of boys watching you from the steps of the school.

Patrick whistles. “Would you look at that?” He gestured to you and Beverly. “Now there's a pair I wouldn’t Mind getting between. A hot girl sandwich sounds like my kinda night” he chuckled.

Henry’s resting bitch face was ever present as he watched you dance. He hated Patrick’s comments about you, but that didn’t mean he disagreed. He was a teenage boy. Nothing he could do about it. Nevertheless, whether he agreed or not, the comments themselves soured the fuck out of his mood. You were the “hot new ass” in town. And Henry was no better than any other man with a wandering eye.

You didn’t find yourself particularly gorgeous. You were pretty of course, but if you had to think of someone gorgeous, you’d pick Beverly. That’s why she was bullied by other girls. She was beautiful. Every boy wanted her. And you could see why. You truly believed that standing next to Beverly dimmed your light. Standing next to her on the street, boys would always look to her before you. At least that’s what you believed. You were by no means ugly. Quite the opposite actually. You just had a bad problem with comparing yourself to her. You loved but also envied her. You feel that if you weren’t the new girl no one would be anywhere near as interested in you as they were.

Now if you told all that to Henry, He’d think that’s just plain not true. He would never tell you how beautiful he thought you were and how much he loved your eyes, mouth, and skin, and smell. He was confused with what he thought of you. You pissed him off and he didn’t want to be friends or anything other than a dude you sit next to in class, but he also felt relaxed around you and could not deny that you were an attractive girl. But just because you find someone attractive doesn't mean you have to like them in any way.

Right?

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Chapter 8 here

@amber-sekio update!♥️

[honoredbastard]

ෆ self indulgent and entilted

characters — bonten!rindou haitani  + *yakuro nanami (oc) .

content and warnings   — mentions of drugs ( yo sanzu ), clubbing, stalker mention, mention(s) of drugging, yelling, angst(?), swearing, and so on.

note  — sorry for the dark content hhhhh, it came with the idea of ackerman being a yakuza that hated bonten and wanted yakuro gone. it may actually be apart of the fic i’m outlining..... these men hold my heart and WILL NOT LET GO OF IT. also they just like dive into my brain 24/7. help i had a fit over what looked best for three hours- at this point i’mma probably make a lil sum’ for sanzu. i love this man and i can’t stop having him appear in my stories that involve bonten. like this guy is 24/7 in the back of my mind.

                                         *Yakuro Nanami.                                            he/they/bun! 

                  Now playing ayanami  — by satin

rindou woke up first to yakuro wearing his bunny ears and a bunny pajama set that he seemed to just slip on before marching into bed. it was cute, but there was still smudges of makeup on his face and the dark circles of terrible inconsistent sleep. rindou sighed, brushing away blonde parts of hair that yakuro was chewing on. 

“yakuro.” rindou lightly pushed yakuro’s shoulder, trying to wake the boy in his semi bunny work attire. “rindou? rindou....” yakuro groaned, his head searched for rindou’s lap or hand that he could lean into. just exist near, to feel his skin and be aware of his warmth, that he was alive and not dead. that he stayed the whole night. “morning doll.” rindou smiled quietly, brushing his fingers over the boy’s hair. 

there was a knock on the door, “come in” as if that was a full offer to entangle himself with the couple he busted through the door and made a running start to jump onto the couple. “HI!” “i don’t do the touching, i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny.”

yakuro stated as if he was at work. it was grilled into his brain and always had to repeat it infront of new clients. working at a bunny suit club was not it, almost rolling over onto sanzu. “bad work day?” “bad work day.” rindou confirmed sanzu’s suspicions with three simple  words. “yaku..” “no.” “yakuuu.” sanzu scooted in between the two, poking yakuro’s cheeks aggressively. he seemed sober, thank god. 

rindou shrugged the mans presence off and trudged to the bathroom to wash and whatnot. “you have another shift, ran told me to wake you up. “that’s not my problem. tell my boss to go fuck himself with a dildo filled with nails.” sanzu’s eyes widened, that was aggressive. although at the same time sorta funny?

“he said he’d cut off your shift times and cut back on how much money you make plus tips.” sanzu repeated what ran had informed him of, with a quite frustrated appearance.  “THAT FUCKER WILL NOT!” raising up from his laying position, yakuro ran into the hallway stumbling here and there from improper pace. 

“i’d love to see him try i swear if he even tries reducing my pay i’ll quit the whole fucking job how about that? i never liked this bullshit bunny shit anyways, it’s annoying when the customers try to touch and then you get stalkers.” yaku was mumbling to hell and back from his bosses call, waving to ran who nodded. making himself a bento before heading off on a small mission.

yaku threw open the washroom door and started searching for his bunny suit attire. the club’s theme was rainbow today so he washed a deep red suit with a black add-on tail and clip on black ears (which were foldable too. yakuro always folds one ear.) when yakuro made it back to his room, sanzu was gone and rindou was crouching near the bottom drawer.

“whatcha lookin for?” yakuro asked curiously, sitting beside the man who made a mess beside him “looking for a red suit now, i’m trying to match with you subtly.” cute- that was the only thinking yaku could think of this man who is a part of a criminal organization/gang. who woulda thought?

“i think you might be better with either a red with black tie or a deeper red of a suit.” yakuro suggested, getting up from his sitting position, joints cracking. “or black would go well, after all i’m only wearing red heel, a red body suit, and red makeup. the rest is black!” yakuro called out to rindou who was still crouched as he exited the room. taking into account his suggestions, he went with a more black with red accents attire.

           ާlocation, bunny palace! ෆ             late night, 11pm.

“here in bunny palace we have many bunnies to suit your taste! male, female, and even those who do not define themselves! run and created by the ackermans.” bunny palace is under the hands of those with the ackerman name. mikasa, the current owner, is softer on us than many. although the music blaring is not something you can get used to.

“hello! i’m moonie! it’s so good to meet you, are you new here?” yakuro was tired, it was about 4 more hours until he shift ended and he was already hungry again. salad’s really don’t fill you up especially when you wolf them down. his feet ached and cried out each time he took another step, he wanted to lay down and use rindou as his personal body pillow.... rindou! ‘i hope he’s okay.’ he thought, placing himself beside the very important client his boss claimed. “oh i am! it’s nice too meet you moonie.”

“it’s so good to meet you too! we have a few rules here that our bunnies tell each new client: i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny. please keep touching to a minimal. do not force your bunny drinks or food. respect your bunny. is that doable?” yakuro asked with big puppy eyes, a big smile, and high pitched voice. “of course!” the customer happily said, hand already on his thigh.

i am SO uncomfortable was all that yaku could think about, his eyes flicking between the customer and each place his gross hands laid upon. squeezing every-so often like it was a pleasuring act for yaku. before he removed the man’s hand, he restrained himself. drawing a large breath before responding to the customer. “i’m so sorry sir! shall i get you something to drink?” yaku pouted, “if you’d like, moonie!” i’m saved.

yakuro smiled and stood up, “why of course! i’ll be right back!” like a breath of relief, he rushed to the staff room. he waved to some girls, “not on stage today moonie?” one asked, a baby stripper new to the bunny palace club. “yeah! boss was all: ‘act cutesy, be close, allow touching this once. there are really important customers here today.’ like thanks for threatening my paycheck and then saying that!”

“oh my, that’s rough babe. ackerman is always like that, it’s like she has a stick up her ass.” one of the older strippers that had been with yakuro since he started chimed in, “you’re right!” yaku chuckled, leaning closer into his vanity mirror to adjust his lipstick and have a chance to message rindou. 

40 missed messages. “i’m so fucked.” “why’s that babe?” “i may have forgot to message rindou telling him ackerman added hours onto my shift.” the room grew tense, “that’s awful? read his messages.” sei suggested, “might cool him off if he’s angry.

“alright!” yaku sighed with a smile, opening the messages. to his surprise, rindou wasn’t angry but instead worried that a client had gotten too touchy and triggered yakuro. after all, ran did inform rindou about the bits and pieces that sanzu did not tell yaku. “whew, i’m good! i’m safe. he’s just worried....” sei and bab took a loud sigh and began laughing. “BUT I’M FUCKED.” “really? that’s great! now go out! your client must be waiting.” 

yup the girls took it that way. “i will! don’t worry don’t worry. i just hope sanzu doesn’t buy the whole club.” “he won’t now go!” sei pushed out yaku who glanced over at the client who finished the previous bottle. his nose was red and was slightly swaying back and forth.

walking up to the bar, yakuro ran into polaris. “polar!” “moonie.” “can you get something for my client? he seems to be a lightweight.” “sure, i’m sure he wouldn’t mind beer.” polar sat down the cup he was wiping back and forth to keep busy.

“the bar isn’t very busy huh?” “oh no, it’s just we got our best girls today dancing and the waitresses and working ten times harder. it works out for both of them and neither of them have to fight each other about unfair pay. tomorrow you’ll be our best so good luck.” polar smiled earnestly to add to the words of encouragement, sliding over the foaming beer over the black marbled counter. 

“thanks! i’ll need it.” turning with the drink in hand, yaku noticed the man’s disgruntled face. he looked as if the whole world was going to blow up and he was watching the countdown. ‘act cutesy, act cutesy, act cutesy.’ it was a constant mantra in his head before he sat down and opened his mouth.

“what could be wrong sir?” yaku felt like rolling his eyes into oblivion, he could care less. “oh it’s just something wrong with the gang.” “oh my, a yakuza?” boring, yaku fake gasped handing over the bear to the angered man. “yeah!” he said pridefully with a chuckle, gulping the drink down and slamming it down. “something about bonten this and that and one of our men died.”

now that’s interesting. yaku felt like walking out to just go see sanzu, it felt like everything was reminding yakuro of him. hell even the purple lights were. but alas he was stuck eyeing the entrance while the man babbled on and on about this whole yakuza shin-dig he was in. he decided to slip off his shoes because the waitresses’ assured the man that they would handle getting drinks.

it felt like hours, drink after drink the world became more hazy. yakuro grew a high tolerance because of his job but he seemed to be losing himself while the client seemed more than sober. “you.. slipped somethin, huh?” the client beside him flinched, clenching onto his bag. “w-what? are you sure you don’t have a low tolerance m-mr. moonie?” the man stammered, through gritted teeth yaku managed to huff out a ‘whatever’.

“miss. ackerman set you up? thought so, the bitch never liked me because i have a bonten member for a partner. guess i’m finally leaving this hellhole. send her my best regards, yeah?” he asked with a agitated tone. his words were laced with threats, raising slowly. “mr. moonie?” “i’m leaving, i want to leave. i have to go see rindou.” he dug the acrylic nails that were done just recently into his thigh. fuck the shoes. 

whatever was in the drink didn’t seem strong but it had yakuro in and out of conscience. the man who was once his client seemed nowhere to be found, leaving a stumbling yaku to himself. sei noticed this and dropped her waiters plate, running over to the bunny who was just about to fall. “MOONIE!” 

          ާlocation, the bonten loft.             early morning, 3am.

blue eyes fluttered open, fighting the urge to close once more. “they’re awake! rindou, they’re all good!” a familiar voice echoed throughout yakuro’s head. his body felt numb, in an attempt to speak he noticed his voice was gone. every one of his senses felt like they were being drowned under water. his eyesight was the only thing that was significantly normal.

though his contacts seemed to be taken off, leaving the blue and purple hues of yaku’s true eye colour roaming free. rindou’s footsteps were heavy and had a quick pace, the vibrations went through the bed. “yaku?” his usual docile purple eyes were filled with worry and anger mixed together, forever burning until yakuro got better.

all the man managed to do was a weak smile, his eyes blinked slowly while he stared at rindou. the two conversed, rindou’s agitation growing as his jaw clenched harder with every muffled word sanzu spoke. “i am very upset sanzu, yakuro was drugged. AGAIN!” “we can’t do anything but sit it out! we don’t even know who it was. rindou you need to calm down.” sanzu too was frustrated beyong belief.

the whole loft was filled with tension that was denser than a brick wall. everyone considered yakuro a part of bonten after two years. he even got a bonten tattoo per mikey’s request. it lays on his right shoulder which he covers up during his job with makeup despite his hatred, it was the only condition ackerman gave him before he could work at bunny palace. ackerman and bonten hated each other, seeing a bonten tattoo at the ackermans would start a war. 

“he’s quitting that job and working at our club. this is the last time i’ll EVER see him like this again.” this wasn’t the first time rindou raised his voice when he was angered by the way yakuro looked in this condition. unable to move, speak, only look plainly at the wall with a weak smile here and there.

it tore him apart from the inside out each time, it did every member living in the loft. finally after whatever happened between those two. sanzu left, rindou left as well but returned with water and began to cuddle the numb and quiet yakuro.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Art Of Remembrance (Part 14)

“You should be happy! It was progress.” Sokka smiles.

“Minimal progress might as well be no progress at all.” Azula returns his expression with a frown that is just as dreary as his smile is hopeful.

“That’s not true.” Sokka insists. “I think that all Katara and Aang needed was a little sign. They’ll go easier on you now. And Zuko seemed pretty worried when he thought that you left again.”

Azula folds her arms across her chest.

“I think Toph likes you.” He tries.

“Maybe…”

“Did you sleep better last night?” He asks.

For the first time in weeks, her sleep wasn’t plagued with nightmares. She doesn’t recall having woken up at all in the night. She isn’t sure if she should attribute this to Sokka sleeping on the floor next to her bed, or the weight it had taken from her to have finally tried to form a friendship or two. At the very least, she had the pleasure of overhearing her brother suggest that they give her a chance before sending her off to the institution again. She has time and a chance now.

“I did.” She replies.

“Do you know how hard it is to talk to you when you only reply with two words?”

Azula shrugs.

“Or none at all.”

“Difficult, I suppose.”

“Three words! You’re being generous today!”

Azula rolls her eyes. Truly, she doesn’t want to be entertained by the man’s antics, but she finds that she is, more or less anyhow. Though her generosity fades, not particularly a spiteful gesture so much as it is that her mind begins to wander away from the present again. She hasn’t dreamed of the vines nor the men, so she thinks of them in waking. The nagging desire to find out what has happened to her only grows with each rise of the sun. “Sokka?” She says quietly.

“Yeah?” “I think that I do need to go back there…”

This time it is Sokka who frowns. “You’re not crazy, Azula, you just…”

She rises her hand to silence him. “I never said that I am. But if I don’t go back there then I won’t find out what happened to me. I need to know and as far as I know, you can’t recant that story.” She tries to gauge his expression. “So I’ll have myself transferred back there and I’ll figure it out. It can’t be too hard to convince everyone that I need to go there again…”

“I don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what?”

“Your plan.”

“Then come up with a better one.”

“Maybe I can come with you?”

“The last I checked, you are perfectly stable.”

“The more time I spend with you, the less true that is.”

“You’re hilarious, Sokka.” She replies flatly.

Though all sarcasm is lost on him, or ignored, when he boldly declares, “humor is my specialty.”

“I’m not looking for humor right now. I’m looking for a plan.”

“And I gave you one. You can get yourself locked up and I can get myself a job as one of the doctors.”  He pauses. “I’d feel a lot safer if you didn’t go in alone. What if they try to wipe your memories again.”

She shrugs and it slips out before she can hold her tongue, “then I won’t have to constantly guess how much of what you say is true.” She cringes at the hurt etched onto his face. “I won’t have to think about that conversation with Toph either.” She tries, but as per usual her delivery saps the humor from her jest.

“I’m trying to help you, you know that right?” Sokka asks. “It’s awfully hard to do that when you keep…”

Azula makes an effort to ignore whatever he is about to accuse her of. “You’re the hardest person that I’ve ever tried to get along with!” He throws his hands up. “And I think that you’re trying to make it hard for people to like you!”

She is in no mood for a fight and yet she can’t bring herself to let him have the last word. “Then just leave me to my plan.”

.oOo.

He rubs his hand over his face. One of them is going to have to concede if they are going to get anywhere and he knows that Azula is too stubbornly proud to give him an inch. He lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, you win. I’m the jerkbender here.”

“Stop saying that.” She mutters.

“I just...can you just try to trust me. I helped you talk to the rest of the gang, right?”

Azula purses her lips for a moment. “You did, yes.”

“So trust me on this too.” He requests. “You can go looking for answers, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

Azula brushes her finger over the place where pinky had been, he doesn’t know what it says that she would rather look at that than him. Finally she pulls her gaze away from her hand and meets his eyes. “Fine, but we do this…”

“Your way?” I figured as much. “I’ll fill Zuko in.”

Azula nods. “If things don’t go well, you’ll send word to him that it is time for me to come home again.”

“That was part of the plan.” Sokka smiles. At least some of his fears begin to subside. Control is key, if they can keep the situation under their control then it will be well. He can take comfort in that Azula still seems rather apt at doing just that.

He makes off to leave the room, and leave Azula to change into her day clothes. But before he does he turns back. It is more of an impulse than anything, scooping her into a small hug and patting her head. “I’m glad that we didn’t fight today.”

“Yeah.” Azula mutters, her cheeks are a gentle pink.

When he returns to the room with Zuko, he has to take pause and recollect the nature of their plan. Even a full awareness of it doesn’t prepare him for how well she dresses the part. Her hair is tousled, he thinks that she simply hasn’t bothered to comb it. And she wears the outfit that she has dressed herself in, in an unsettlingly  haggard sort of manner. But it is her eyes that throw him off the furthest. She already had a weary look from her sleepless nights, but the bags beneath them were beginning to fade. Now she wears her makeup in a fashion that brings them out and seems to ever so subtly sink her cheeks.

For a startling moment, he almost thinks that she is truly gone again, he can sense Zuko going rigid next to him. His moment of fear comes to an end when she greets them, “have you already arranged a ship?” Her voice is refreshingly smooth and calm.

“Yes, we’ve called for one, they’re expecting you within the hour.” Zuko nods.

“They’re also expecting one brand new, dashingly handsome doctor, appointed by the firelord himself.” Sokka declares.

Azula quirks a brow, “dashingly handsome?”

He elects to ignore her sarcasm once more. “Glad you agree.” He slings an arm around her. Honestly, the twin expressions of entertainment truly serves to drive home that he is working with two cranky siblings. “Oh come on, you guys have to admit that I look dashing in this imperial firebender armor.”

“Dashingly ridiculous.” Azula grumbles.

“Good thing you’re into dashingly ridiculous.”

“Gross.”

.oOo.

The docks are abuzz with fishermen and tradesmen both arriving and departing. Her ship is waiting for her at the very end of the pier, nearly out of sight, just as they like to keep their mentally unsound.

But Azula is seen plain as day right now, and for it she is fixed with many a unkind glares and glowers. Looks that ranged from pity to disgust to complete revulsion. And only for the assumption that she needs help to get herself back on track. She likes to think that they simply remember her for her misdeeds, but she has an inkling that they do have a general aversion to those of questionable mental standing.

Act or not, the princess finds herself feeling somewhat uncomfortable under all of their judging glances and double takes. Apparently it is a source of entertainment to see her being paraded about in study handcuffs. Sturdy as far as they can tell; the cuffs and chains are actually relatively loose around her wrists, a consoling reminder that she isn’t truly being shipped away again.

Another reminder comes in the form of how kind and light, Zuko’s touch is on her back. She almost freats that if someone were to stare for too long, that they’d realize it is all just for show. Sokka’s arm, linked in hers, is a little rougher--carelessly so rather than maliciously.  

As they near the ship, the crowd begins to thin, until only a few stragglers pass them by and they are quick to step out of the way. She thinks that her stance might have grown taunt because, when they find themselves a safe distance from the crowd, Sokka iquires, “you doing okay?”

Azula nods, “well enough, all things considered.”

Zuko squeezes her shoulder. She peers up at him and he gives her a reassuring smile. “Your plans usually always went well for you, if that helps.”

It doesn’t really, not when her mind can’t add meaning to his reassurance. But she nods affirmatively anyhow, lest she deter him from trying to help her when she has only just begun to receive such gestures.

The ship now looms directly in front of them, casting a large shadow over them. She expects a burly, bushy-browed man to emerge from the ship. Instead a rather wirey looking girl with frizzy hair and spectacles greets them. “It is nice to see you again, Zuko. And it is good to see that you have found your sister alive and…” she gives Azula a once over and force the word, “...healthy.” She takes a brief pause before adding, “relatively speaking.”

Azula can’t help but feel faintly annoyed by the remark.

“She’ll be fine, she just needs time. Bozan is usually pretty good at keeping her calm.” Zuko gestures to Sokka. “Which is why it’s crucial to let them speak at least once in the morning and once at night.”

“Noted, your majesty.” The woman dips her head. She draws a needle.

Azula suppresses a flinch.

“Sedation isn’t necessary.” Zuko says perhaps too quickly. “She’s been cooperative, I don’t think that we should risk agitating her.”

She could applauded him for his save.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” He says firmly. And to her he says, “good luck, I’ll see you at home when you recover.”

Yes, when she has recovered what she has lost, she adds silently to herself. She gives him no acknowledgement other than a forced snarl. She isn’t entirely sure that the hurt on his face is feigned. It looks rather genuine. Perhaps she is playing the part jarringly well.

The woman’s hand replaces Zuko’s and, Sokka trailing behind, she finds herself climbing the ship’s ramp. They pull it in and steal away any thoughts of back out.

[gagosiangallery]

Richard Prince at Gagosian Beverly Hills

January 15, 2020

RICHARD PRINCE New Portraits Opening reception: Thursday, February 6, 6–8pm February 6–March 21, 2020 456 North Camden Drive, Beverly Hills __________ In 1984 I took some portraits. The way I did it was different. The way had nothing to do with the tradition of portraiture. If you wanted me to do your portrait, you would give me at least five photographs that had already been taken of yourself, that were in your possession (you owned them, they were yours), and more importantly . . . that you were already happy with. You would give me the five you liked and I would pick the one I liked. I would rephotograph the one I liked and that would be your portrait. Simple. Direct. To the point . . . Foolproof. I started off doing friends. Peter Nadin. Anne Kennedy. Jeff Koons. Cookie Mueller. Gary Indiana. Colin de Land.

They didn’t have to sit for their portraits. They didn’t have to make an appointment and come over and sit in front of some cyclone or in front of a neutral background or on an artist’s stool. They didn’t have to show up at all. And they wouldn’t be disappointed with the result. How could they? It wasn’t like they were giving me photos of themselves that were embarrassing.

Social Science Fiction.

Another advantage was the “time line.” If you were in your sixties and you gave me a photograph that had been taken thirty years earlier, and that’s the one I chose, your portrait ended up in a kind of time machine. I couldn’t go forward, but I could go backward. Vanity. Most of the people I did liked the younger version of themselves. So the future didn’t really matter. Half of H. G. Wells was better than no half at all.

Who knew?

After friends, I did people I didn’t know.

I had access to Warner Bros. Records and their publicity files. The files were filled with 8 × 10 glossies of recording stars that they had under contract. How I had access is beside the point. It was a long time ago. Let’s just say an A&R guy gave me access, “permission.”

I spent time in their LA headquarters, in Burbank, and went thru the metal cabinets and took the “publicities” I wanted, took them home, put them in front of my camera, and made a new photograph. The first one I did was Dee Dee Ramone.

I did Tina Weymouth, Tom Verlaine, Jonathan Richman, Laurie Anderson. I did the two girls from the B-52s.

Not knowing these people, having never met them, or talked to them, but still being able to do their portraits, excited me. Satisfaction. I spent weeks in the basement of Warner Bros. I thought I had an advantage. My method, if you could call it that, was far more flexible than the regular way portraits were taken. I didn’t need a studio. A darkroom. A receptionist. A calendar. Makeup. Stylists. I didn’t have to deal with agents or the “personality,” good or bad, of the sitter. My overhead was minimal and I could do the portrait all by myself.

By myself. That was the best.

Why I Go To The Movies Alone.

At first I thought this could be a business.

Up till then none of the art that I was making sold . . . or sold enough to make a living. I had just quit my job at Time Life the year before and was trying to make a go of it living near Venice Beach in LA . . . sharing a house with three roommates and living off the occasional sales that Hudson, my friend from Chicago, would make selling my “cartoon” drawings.

This idea of a “portrait business” made sense to me. Who wouldn’t want their portrait done this way?

I continued to do friends. Paula Greif. Dike Blair. Meyer Vaisman. I did everybody’s portraits for Wild History, a book that I put together for Tanam Press of downtown writing. The author’s portrait accompanied their contribution. Wharton Tiers. Spalding Gray. Tina L’Hotsky.

By the end of ’84 it was over.

I’m not sure if it was the lack of interest in me, or in others. (My energy evaporated.) Maybe it was the inability to convince people to commit to a commission. It was a good idea, but after doing about forty of them, I put them in a drawer and moved on. Bored? Restless? I don’t know. Let’s just say it didn’t take off.

Leave it at that.

My cartoon drawings turned into jokes and the jokes started taking up everything. In the end, I think most people would rather have their portrait done by Robert Mapplethorpe.

Thirty years. Time passes.

The social network.

I looked over my daughter’s shoulder and saw that she was scrolling thru pictures on her phone. I asked her what she was looking at. “It’s my Tumblr.” “What’s a tumbler?” I asked.

That was . . . four years ago?

About three years ago I bought an iPhone. Someone had shown me the photographs you could take with the phone. I had given up taking pictures after they got rid of color slide film. I tried digital, but couldn’t make the adjustment. I never liked carrying a camera and was pretty much inkjetting and painting anyway . . . so the idea of using a big boxy camera with all its new whistles and bows wasn’t for me.

Enter the sandman.

The iPhone was just what I needed. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to point and shoot. You didn’t have to focus. You didn’t have to load film. You didn’t have to ASA. You didn’t have to set a speed. The clarity . . .

I could see for miles.

The photos you took were stored in the phone. And when you wanted to see them, they appeared on a grid. The best part: you could send a photo immediately to a friend, to an e-mail, to a printer . . . or, you could organize your photos, like my daughter had, and post them publicly or privately.

When worlds collide.

I asked my daughter more about Tumblr. Are those your photos? Where did you get that one? Did you need permission? How did you get that kind of crop? You can delete them? Really? What about these “followers?” Who are they? Are they people you know? What if you don’t want to share? How many of your friends have Tumblrs?

What’s yours is mine.

My daughter’s “grid” on Tumblr reminded me of my Gangs I did back in ’85 . . . where I organized a set of nine images on a single piece of photo paper and blew the paper up to 86 × 48. The gangs were a way to deal with marginal or subsets of lifestyles that I needed to see on a wall but not a whole wall. Each gang was its own exhibition. Girlfriends, Heavy Metal Bands, Giant Waves, Bigfoot Trucks, Sex, War, Cartoons, Lyrics . . . were all rephotographed with slide film, and when the slides returned, they were “deejayed” and moved around on a custom-made light box until the best nine made the cut. The “cut” was then taped together (the edges of the slide mounts were pushed up against each other and Scotch-taped), the nine taped slides were sent to a lab where an 8 × 10 internegative was made, and from the internegative the final photo was blown up. I’ve probably lost you. Technical stuff . . . application and technique. Sometimes it’s better to leave the “background” out of it. Better to “take it for granted.” Why should I care how a photograph is made?

Only sometimes.

How was it called back then? Sampling?

Primitive now, but back then . . . 50-inch photo drums were few and far between. The paper was 50 inches wide and came in a huge roll. If you wanted to, you could take a roll and roll it down the street, roll it down the sidewalk, roll it all the way down the West Side Highway.

Shakespeare’s in the alley?

No. Philip Roth is in the alley.

Joan Didion is in the alley.

Don DeLillo is in the alley.

What’s up, pussycat?

There’s a lot of cats on Instagram. Food too.

And there’s tons of photos of people who take photographs of themselves. (Yes, I know the word.)

On the gram. I was just asked why I like Instagram. I said, “Because there’s rules. And if you break the rules, you get kicked off.”

I got to Instagram thru Twitter.

Twitter first.

I’m not sure when I first started tweeting, but I liked trying to fit a whole story into 140 characters.

I call it Birdtalk.

I used to bird in the early ’90s for Purple magazine and birded in my first catalogue for Barbara Gladstone in ’87.

Short sentences that were funny, sweet, dumb, profound, absurd, stupid, jokey, Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine meets ad copy for Calvin Klein. Think Dylan’s Tarantula. Then think some more and think Kathy Acker’s Tarantula.

Or, don’t think at all. I know I don’t.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I write down the first sentence that starts off my favorite novel.

Relative. I’m not much of a theory guy. But sometimes I think there was a reason why Einstein was a technical assistant in the Swiss patent office.

Let me fill your cup.

Twitter accepts photos, but is mainly text-based. I like to combine the two and tweet both photo and text.

I called the photo/text tweets I was posting . . . “The Family.”

I posted photos of my extended family . . . mother, brother, sister, nieces, cousins, uncles, aunts, in-laws, stepchildren, boy- and girlfriends. I would caption the photos with a short description of who, what, why . . . measuring my words so that they fit into the guidelines of the platform.

After posting the photo/text, I sent the information to my printer and inkjetted an 11 × 14 print of the marriage. I made thirty-eight “Family” tweets.

Distribution.

I placed each “Family” tweet in a plastic sleeve and pushpinned the sleeve to the wall. The wall was at Karma. I put all thirty-eight up. Salon style. It was Saturday. The doors opened at 12 pm. By 12:15 pm all thirty-seven were gone. One to a customer. I kept the one that had my father, mother, and sister in it. (My father and mother were naked, and my sister was sitting in between. My family wasn’t like yours. Hobnob doesn’t begin to describe them.) I sold the “Family Tweets” for $12 each. First come, first served.

Well, well, well . . .

In ma ma ma my wheeeeeeeel house.

I used to stutter. By the ninth grade, the sparkle was in my eye. It got so bad, the impediment turned me into a clam. I slept all day, every day. I wouldn’t get up until Sunday. I waited for Bonanza to come on the TV. I loved the cowboy father and his three sons.

Two summers ago, my niece was working for me out on Long Island and she showed me how to screen save. I didn’t know about the option. What other options don’t I know about?

Screen Save.

This might be one of the best applications in an apparatus that I’ve ever encountered. All-time. Hall of fame. First place. Just what I need. MORE photographs.

Hey kids . . . what time is it?

Now I have a theory.

I was beside myself.

Congratulations.

This past spring, and half the summer, the iPhone became my studio. I signed up for Instagram. I pushed things aside. I made room. It was easy. I ignored Tumblr, and Facebook had never interested me. But Instagram . . .

I started off being RichardPrince4.

I quickly recognized the device was a way to get the lead out. If Twitter was editorial . . . then Instagram was advertising.

A gazillion people.

Besides cats, dogs, and food, people put out photos of themselves and their friends all the time, every day, and, yes, some people put themselves out twice on Mondays. I started “following” people I knew, people I didn’t know, and people who knew each other. It was innocent. I was on the phone talking to Jessica Hart and had just looked at her “gram” feed before picking up the phone. I asked about a picture she posted of herself standing in front of a fireplace wearing what looked to be ski clothes and big fur boots. The post was in black and white, head to toe, full figure, and behind her, above the mantel, there was a portrait of Brigitte Bardot. I told her someone should make a portrait out of this photo. She said, “Why don’t you?”

Come to think of it.

I’m not sure if she knew about my Family Tweets. She might have. I think we even talked about them after she came to my studio for a visit. After I got off the phone, I thought about her suggestion: “Why don’t you?”

I went back to her feed and screen saved her “winter” photo. I sent the save to my computer, pressed “empty subject,” pressed “actual size,” and waited for it to appear in a doc, checked the margins and crop, clicked on the doc, and sent it to my printer. My inkjet printer printed out an 11 × 14-inch photo on paper . . . I took the photo out of the tray and put it on my desk.

Looking at Jessica’s feed reminded me of 1984. Except this time I had more than five photos to choose from. I went back to her feed a second time. I scrolled thru maybe a hundred photos she had posted and looked at all the ones that included her. The one in front of the fireplace was still the best.

Walk on.

Jessica had tons of followers. Thousands. And a lot of them had “commented” on what she posted. I read all the comments that had been posted under her fireplace photo. There was one comment I wish I could have gotten in my original screen save. When you screen save an Instagram image, you can get maybe three, four comments in the save if you include the person’s “profile” icon that appears on the upper left of the page. I decided early on I wanted the person’s icon to be part of the save. But what else could I save?

I went back to my desk and kept staring at the printout of Jessica. What do I do now?

I didn’t want to paint it.

I didn’t want to mark it.

I didn’t want to add a sticker.

Whatever I did, I wanted it to happen INSIDE and before the save. I wanted my contribution to be part of the “gram.” I didn’t want to do anything physical to the photograph after it was printed.

Five cents.

I went back to the comment.

I commented on Jessica’s photo in front of the fireplace, but my comment was one of hundreds and showed up outside, way down at the bottom . . . out of the frame.

If I wanted my comment to show up near her picture . . . how?

I got lucky.

I’m terrible when it comes to the tech side of technology. But somehow I figured out how to hack into Jessica’s feed and swipe away all her comments and add my own so that it would appear under her post. The hack is pretty simple and anyone can do it. You hit the gray comment bar and pick a comment you don’t want and swipe with your finger to the left, and a red exclamation mark appears. You press on the exclamation mark and four things come onto the bottom of your screen.

1. Why are you reporting this comment?

2. Spam or Scam

3. Abusive Content

4. Cancel

To get rid of the comment, you click on Spam or Scam. It’s gone. Just like that I could control other people’s comments and Jessica’s own comments. And the comment that I added could now be near enough to Jessica’s photo that when I screen saved it, my comment would “show up.” Make sense? It’s about as good as I can do. What can I say? Einstein and cuckoo . . .

So now . . .

So now I was in.

Waiting to follow.

Richardprince4 would appear at the bottom of Jessica’s final portrait. My comment, whatever it would be, would always be the last comment. The last say so. Say so. That’s good. That could work. My “in” was what I ended up saying. And what I would say would be everything I ever knew . . . what I knew now and what I would know in the future.

Tell Me Everything.

Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine.

Zoot Horn Rollo. You seem to be where I belong (emoji).

The first three portraits I did were of women I knew. Or almost knew. Jessica, I knew. Pam Anderson, I knew. Sky Ferreira? I didn’t know, but was following her and had been reading about her new album and seeing posters of her album broadsided on sheets of ply on the Bowery and on Lafayette near Bond. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or why I chose these three. I just had lunch with Pam and had seen Jessica in LA. Sky, I was following because she seemed interesting. There was nothing more. No attraction. No fan. No desire. No date. No wanting anything from her. And the pictures she posted were candid, boozy, and seemed to be letting the viewer in on some kind of backstage diary. She also had thousands of people following her, and I could tap into her followers and follow them. I can do that? I didn’t even know I could follow the followers. Like I said, the hardware was all new . . . and I was just getting started.

The shoreline is never the same. (Like it should be.)

When I first started getting rid of comments, I thought the person whose comments I was getting rid of might get pissed. “What happened to all my comments?” I found out quickly that “the getting rid of” only affected my feed. The deleted comments didn’t affect the followers’ feeds. Their comments were still there even though they were gone from mine. All that happened is that MY comment showed up below their photo. Was I allowed? Yes. I guess so. It’s hard to explain. But the process is open, and at the moment, it’s the way it works and anyone and everyone can do it.

The language I started using to make “comments” was based on Birdtalk. Non sequitur. Gobbledygook. Jokes. Oxymorons. “Psychic Jujitsu.”

Some of the language came directly from TV. If I’m selecting a photo of someone and adding a comment to their gram and an advertisement comes on . . . I use the language that I hear in the ad. Inferior language. It works. It sounds like it means something. What’s it mean? I don’t know. Does it have to mean anything at all? I think about James Joyce confessing to Nora Barnacle. I think about opening up to page 323 of Finnegans Wake. Then I think about notes and lyricism. Policy. Whisper. Murmurs. Mantra. Quotation. Advice.

Chamber Music.

Didn’t Duke Ellington say, “If it sounds good, it is good”? He did say that, didn’t he?

Who are these people?

Larry Clark, Diane Arbus, Robert Mapplethorpe take great portraits. I’ve watched Larry take photos and I don’t know how he does it. I wouldn’t know where to begin. I could never go up to a stranger and ask them if I could take their picture. I’ve done it maybe two or three times and didn’t enjoy it. That part of art is in Larry. It isn’t in me. I feel more comfortable in my bedroom looking thru Easyriders and poring over pictures of “girlfriends” that are right there on the page. Page after page. Looking. Wondering. Anticipating. Hoping. What will be on the next page? Will I find a girlfriend that I really like? That’s my relationship with what’s out there. It’s as close as I want to get. That’s what’s in me.

IG is a bedroom magazine.

I can start out with someone I know and then check out who they follow or who’s following them, and the rabbit hole takes on an out-of-body experience where you suddenly look at the clock and it’s three in the morning. I end up on people’s grids that are so far removed from where I began, it feels psychedelic. Further. I’m on the bus. I feel like I’m part of Kesey’s merry tribe. I’m reminded of Timothy Leary’s journals, which I purchased years ago from John McWhinnie, and the concentration that came over me when I discovered his hand-drawn map of his escape from jail. How he literally shimmied on a wire that had been strung up from an outer utility building to the perimeter prison wall . . . and how I would trace with my finger his overland express to Tangier, where he hooked up with Black Panther Eldridge Cleaver and spent the next year seeking asylum in different parts of North Africa, ultimately ending up in Switzerland where his ex-wife ratted him out, and how fighting extradition took up the rest of his life. Wow, now it’s four in the morning.

Tune In, Turn On, Come Out.

“Trolling.”

If you say so.

I never thought about it that way. The word has been used to describe part of the process of making my new portraits. I guess so. It’s not like I’m on the back of a boat throwing out chum.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat.”

Included.

Everyone is fair.

Game.

An even playing field.

“Outside my cabin door. Said the girl from the red river shore.”

Men. Women. Men and women. Men and men. Women and women. Blacks Whites Latinos Asian Arabs Jews Straights Gays Transgender. Tattoos and scars. Hairy.

I don’t really know the score.

The ones I adore.

I just know where I belong.

“Oh, there I go. From a man to a memory.”

How do I tell you who or why I pick? I can’t. It would be like telling you why I pick that joke. WHY THAT ONE? There’s thousands of jokes. I read them all. It takes days to read just one joke book. 101 of the World’s Funniest Jokes. Days. If I get one, find one, like one, out of the 101, it’s a good day.

People on IG lead me to other people. I spend hours surfing, saving, and deleting. Sometimes I look for photos that are straightforward portraits (or at least look straightforward). Other times I look for photos that would only appear, or better still . . . exist on IG. Photos that look the way they do because they’re on the gram. Selfies? Not really. Self-portraits. I’m not interested in abbreviation. I look for portraits that are upside down, sideways, at arm’s length, taken within the space that a body can hold a camera phone. What did de Kooning say? “When I spread my arms out, it’s all the space I need.”

At first I wasn’t sure how to print the portrait. I tried different surfaces, different papers. Presentation? Frame? Matt? Shadowbox? I tried them all. Finally this past spring my lab introduced me to a new canvas, one that was tightly wound, a surface with hardly any tooth. Smooth to the touch. Almost as if the canvas were photo paper. It was also brilliantly white. I don’t think it could be any whiter. And . . . the way the ink jetted into the canvas was a surprise. It fused in a way that made the image slightly out of focus. Just enough. The ink was IN and ON the canvas at the same time. When I first saw the final result, I didn’t really know what I was looking at. A photographic work or a work on canvas? The surprise was perfect. Perfect doesn’t come along very often. The color that had been transferred from the file of the computer to the jet, from jet to canvas, was intense, saturated, rich. If someone I followed had blue hair, their hair looked like it had been dyed directly onto the canvas. Dye job. Rinsed. Beauty salon. It was brilliant, great color. You might call it “vibrant.” The vibe between the image and the process was “sent away for,” seamless, effortless . . . all descriptions I used to use when I tried describing my early “pens, watches, and cowboys.” (Has it really been forty years?) The ingredients, the recipe, “the manufacture,” whatever you want to call it . . . was familiar but had changed into something I had never seen before. I wasn’t sure it even looked like art. And that was the best part. Not looking like art. The new portraits were in that gray area. Undefined. In-between. They had no history, no past, no name. A life of their own. They’ll learn. They’ll find their own way. I have no responsibility. They do. Friendly monsters.

Speak for yourself.

To fit in the world takes time.

For now, all I can say is . . . they’re the only thing I’ve ever done that has made me happy.

http://www.richardprince.com/writings/bird-talk

Close

[intubatedangel]

Dead Drop - part 2 version 2

I may have been slightly harsh on myself, most of it was saveable, just needed some additions and clarity. Anyway, here it is, part 2 version 2.

Anna

The morning proceeded normally, almost as if last nights events had never happened. They shared a breakfast of scrambled eggs with toast and baked beans, washed down with large mugs of tea. It was a routine they had shared dozens of times, and it was utterly unaffected by the revelations of mutual fetish. The news played on the large tv across the room, a background noise that neither was paying too much attention to. The talking heads on the screen were discussing the incoming cold snap, a last gasp of winter that would plummet the temperature to just a degree of two above freezing, before wind chill added its own effort.

 Anna was glad they had already booked the weekend off to celebrate their six-month first date anniversary. They could spend the whole weekend here, nice and warm, with as much time as they wanted to explore the cupboard of her dreams. She smiled at the thought, feeling her heart buzz in anticipation. But they still had a day of work to complete, and given the conditions, Anna expected it to be a tough one. There would be homeless looking for shelter, and probably a car crash or two.

 Carl was paging through a journal as he ate, keeping abreast of the latest techniques and technology that were relevant to his work. Once or twice he would jot something down in the notepad that was always at hand. He’d told her that he thought best in the mornings, during that slight fugue state where he was still waking up. Less overthinking, more outside-the-box ideas. He could go over it again later. He glanced up at her and smiled. She’d been staring. Anna finished off her tea, rinsed off the crockery and arranged it in the dishwasher. Then went to get changed for the day.

 Sat in the walk-in wardrobe, her eyes kept on drifting to the cupboard as she dried her hair and gathered the spilling curls into a folded back tail. She applied a minimal amount of makeup, enough to mask the slight scars of her severe teenage acne, then began to dress. She could hear Carl showering and knew he’d be out in a minute. She quickly pulled on her underwear and then a white undershirt before grabbing her sky blue scrubs from the rack behind her. She checked her appearance in the mirror, clipped the watch to her breast pocket along with a pair of pens that she guarded closely. One of her first lessons as a nurse had been to keep her friends close, and her pens closer.  

 She left the wardrobe as she heard the shower stop, casting one last glance at the wonderful cupboard, before locking down that part of her in preparation for the day. Returning to the kitchen, Anna filled the kettle and readied the two insulated cups they always used. She leafed through the journal on the breakfast bar as the kettle boiled. She could grasp most of it, had even considered following the track to becoming a doctor, but she lacked the patience and temperament for the colossal amount of studying required. As far as Anna was concerned, she needed to know what potassium did, what the right levels were and the symptoms of too much or too little. She didn’t need to know how it did what it did.

 The kettle finished boiling as Carl came into the kitchen, dressed in the smart trousers and long-sleeved shirt her considered his uniform. They danced around each other as they finished getting ready, sorting the tea, grabbing ID badges and keys, donning their thick coats. And then they were out the door.

 Carl’s apartment was only a 10-minute walk from the hospital, but the cold air was already cutting through Anna as they approached the block that the hospital was on. She was very glad they had the next two days off, given this chill was merely a precursor to the weekends more savage cold. They walked with their hands held between them, taking sips of warming tea every so often. The city was already coming to life, despite it not even being 8AM. Anna shivered slightly as they waited at the crossing.

 They waited for the green man and made their way across. She could feel Carl try to relinquish her hand. This was the spot they usually parted, walking around the block in opposite directions so they didn’t appear together. But this time Anna squeezed his hand instead. They shared a look and a smile.

 “I’m ready for them to know.” She told him, craning her neck to meet his lips.

 ***

 Linh

Linh once again struggled toward consciousness. She could feel cold metal against her cheek, the rest of her battered body reporting that she was on something hard. She could feel the pain, but it seemed distant, the opioids still working in her system. She opened her eyes, finding herself in a dark space. As she gathered the frayed tendrils of her mind together, she realised there was a low rumbling surrounding her, and the metal floor was vibrating.

 She stirred, trying to look around. That’s when she saw the man on a bench built into the wall. It was a familiar bench, and Linh figured out that she was in one of the vans that had taken her from the port to the hellish building she had spent the last six months in. The man muttered something as he noticed her moving. She could she something in his hand, and there was a nasty sensation in her nose and sinuses. She knew it. Narcan. Had she stopped breathing? She groaned, trying to move, but her body was too lethargic, borderline unresponsive.

 The man cast a look of disgust at her, kicking her feet out of his way as he stood up, stooping to avoid hitting his head, and went to the front of the van. Linh strained to hear what he was saying, but couldn’t make out the language, let alone actual words. She felt the Van turning sharply, inertia spilling her onto her back. She gasped as a spear of pain shot through her abdomen. Her head ached as she desperately tried to think coherently. Where were they taking her? They weren’t going to kill her, the Narcan was proof enough of that. That also dismissed simply dropping her somewhere in the city to be found dead and chalked up as an addict immigrant. They wanted her alive.

 Linh knew the gang must have other locations in the city, some of the girls from the ship hadn’t ended up in the same house as her, but she couldn’t think of why they would take her somewhere else. Maybe they had other jobs they forced people to do. Maybe she was too much trouble for a sex slave. She felt a glimmer of hope. She would be happy doing something, anything else.

 The men in the front were talking louder, more animatedly. Linh thought she heard the driver say “1 minute”. The first man came back. Stepping over her and cursing under his breath. He grabbed her under the shoulders and lifted her up slightly. A whimper of pain burst from Linh’s mouth, against her will to be stoic in the face of her abusers. The man dragged her around, sitting her against the side door of the van. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. Part of her wanted to spit in his face, but if she was being take somewhere better than the hell house, she didn’t want to anger her captors.

 “Tell no one about us.” The man said, his English thickly accented. “You understand?”

 Linh nodded her head slightly, wondering what he meant, who he was talking about.

 “Boss wants you alive. ‘Makes big money, worth risk’ he says. Better off dead I think, but boss is boss. You will be watched. You live, you tell no one. Anything happens to us, you die, your family dies.”

 Fear pricked her mind, but it could not compete with the shame she felt. The man continued.

 “Western doctors are soft. They will save worthless life. If they ask questions. Tell them nothing. Maybe you get deported, likely they fix you and let you go. We will watch for you, take you back.”

 The vehicle swayed madly again, then with a shout from the front, the tyres squealed loudly. The van skidded to a stop in seconds. Linh fell to her side with the momentum, crashing against the plastic shell of the seats. The man reached over her, grabbing her smock with his other hand, holding her up, opening the door with a pop. The cold morning air blasted her through the open door.

 “Remember, tell anyone, family dead.” He restated. Then he released her smock, stood back, and kicked her in the chest hard enough to throw her out of the van.

 ***

Anna

Anna and Carl had just turned the corner, onto the final stretch of street leading to the hospital, when they heard the roaring van. They both glanced back, the same sense of dread filling the pair of them. They saw it, black paint, darkened windscreen, no number plate on the front. They knew what was about to happen and immediately started sprinting towards the hospital as the van raced by.

 The city was typical of many in the west. Generally, it was pretty safe, but there were certain areas that had succumbed to crime and gang violence. Memorial was the closest major trauma centre to one of these areas. Thus, it also received the highest number of ‘dead drops’. Usually gang members and drug users, dropped by ‘friends’ who didn’t want to get in trouble. What they were about to receive was much rarer.

 The van slammed on its brakes, filling the air with a squealing noise and the smell of burning rubber. The side door, facing away from the hospital, slid open while Anna and Carl were still 50 metres away. All they saw of the ‘delivery guys’, was a black boot against the chest of a barely dressed woman.

 ***

Linh

Linh felt a moment of weightlessness as she fell from the van, seeing the grey sky above her. Then she slammed into the ground. The impact forced all the air out of her lungs in a bursting gasp, the back of her head bouncing fiercely off the tarmac. Dazed and winded, Linh whimpered, desperately trying to roll on to her front, to crawl, but she could barely move. She thought she heard footsteps and shouting, but everything had gone muffled again. Then, two faces came into view above her.

 She felt hands holding her down, but all it did was make her realise the tingling had returned. The woman was leaning close to her, cradling her head and shouting something. But Linh couldn’t make sense of it. A colourful aura wavered at the edges of her vision. Linh tried to grab the woman, terrified as she felt her lungs refusing to draw breath.

 The tingling intensified; she could vaguely feel the tremors starting. She stared up at the woman, pleading with her eyes. She saw her own hand being held but couldn’t feel it. The aura was sweeping inwards, surrounding the woman’s face with an angelic halo. Linh could see her lips moving, repeating the same three words. Then her vision exploded with white and she fell away into nothingness.

[nadiaamartinez-blog1]

Character Information

Full Name. Nadia Emiliana Martinez

Age & Birthday. 26. July 27th.

Gender Identity. CisFemale

Preferred Pronouns. She/Her

Romantic Orientation. Pansexual

Sexual Orientation. Panromantic

Hometown. Lemon Grove

Neighborhood. The Junction

Family Information *

Mother. Consuelo Alvarez-Garcia (birth mother)/Stefanie Martinez (adoptive mother

Father. Emilio Alvarez (birth father)/David Martinez (Adoptive father)

Siblings. TBA Martinez sibling #1, TBA Martinez sibling #2.

Pets. A pup named Coco.

Other Family Members of Importance. None at the moment!

Please describe your character’s family dynamics. Nadia is very close with her family. She loves her parents and her siblings beyond anything else, and would do anything for them.

Personality Information

Positive Traits. alluring, passionate, determined, charismatic, confident

Negative Traits. flirtatious, jealous, obsessive, arrogant, reckless

Star Sign. Leo

Likes. pink wine, red lipstick, handbags, shoes, crystals, taking long baths, full moons, catching the perfect candid, body positivity, classic rock

Dislikes. insecurity, bigotry, hatred, prejudice, racism, “conventional” beauty, relish, pork, most vegetables

Pet Peeves. internet trolls, flat tummy teas, fake people

Most Embarrassing Memory. Nadia had a big bed-wetting phase, and one time she wet the bed during naptime in kindergarten.

Hobbies. Drawing, painting, photography, boxing, concerts/musical festivals

Guilty Pleasure. Peanut butter dipped Oreos, chocolate lava cake, wine, bath bombs, candles, crystals

Unusual Talents. Nadia can say any word backwards.

Habits. Taking selfies, posing even when there’s no camera, carrying 39 lipsticks in her enormous purse at any given time.

Occupation/Schooling Information

If your character is currently employed:

Occupation. Model/Makeup Artist

Place of Work. Self-Employed

Character Development

Plans for Development. 

CAREER MOVES: Right now, Nadia is in the “funemployed” sector of life. She is self employed through her YouTube channel, blog, and Instagram pictures, and she works as a model, but I’d like to see her make bigger steps with makeup, whether she becomes a salesgirl at a department store, starts creating her own product, or launches her own brand.

LOVE IS HERE TO STAY: I hate posting this as a plot development because I’m never someone who relies on shipping to keep me going in a group, but I think it would be nice for Nadia to find someone she really hits it off with and who will treat her right, since her last and only major relationship ended up in major flames.

SEXUALITY: Nadia is pansexual but I’d like her to lean towards women. The only relationship she’s ever been in was with a man, so I’d like her to explore her sexuality and reclaim her confidence in that regard.

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL GIRL GANG: Nadia is a fierce, strong independent woman, and I’d like for her to surround herself with other fierce, strong, independent women who will lift each other up and support each other.

Other. 

SKYLAR BAUTISTA: Nadia’s abusive ex-boyfriend, who is currently in prison. They met and formed their relationship when they both were in art school. Skylar dabbled in painting but his forte was sculpture. As two incredibly talented artists, they were often put in competition with each other which started out as a sexy tension thing for them before Skylar showed his true colors. They lived together for two years before Nadia’s parents pulled her out of his abusive cycle, and now he’s in jail where he belongs. Boy bye.

Character Biography

ABUSE TW

Nadia Emiliana Martinez couldn’t tell you much about her birth parents, or about her life before the accident. The road was icy and visibility was poor, so when Emilio Alvarez spun off the road, he and his wife were without a seatbelt. Only Nadia, strapped into the backseat, was left with minimal scratches, but a scar that resides on her scalp from blunt-force trauma to the head. While it was unclear if she was going to make it, she did, and with no other family to claim her, she was put into the foster system. There were two times when she was almost adopted, but things ended up not working out. Nadia felt like she was a used car or a puppy that nobody wanted, and the older she got, the more clear it was to her that she would be without a family until she was eighteen years old, and would be truly alone in the world. 

All throughout her life, she’d been attracted to drawing, painting, and photography. Anything she could get her hands on immediately became something to create. Nadia had nothing and made a habit out of stealing supplies from the art room until one day she was caught by the art teacher who gave her an entire box set of colored pencils, paper, and paints. Nadia broke down into tears that day, and she treasured every single one of those supplies until she used them all up. The only solace she found was in painting, taking the beautiful images she saw in her brain and putting them on paper.

Nadia stayed in the foster system until she was an extremely opinionated fifteen-year-old girl, where she was taken in by David and Stefanie Martinez. Nadia didn’t know what to make of her new family, especially since she was waiting for the day that she was brought back to foster care. Nadia’s birthday came up almost two weeks after she was adopted, and she burst into tears yet again when she opened up a beautiful vintage camera in perfect working order. Then, Nadia knew she’d found her forever home and her forever family. This was the only reason why she didn’t want to leave Lemon Grove when it came time for Nadia to apply for college. She had just found her people, and going far away from them didn’t stack up in the cards, so Nadia went to the Miami Fine Arts Academy less than an hour away. 

It was in college that she met Skylar, someone who was going to become a huge part of her life in a very short way. Even though Nadia was far from an impressionable eighteen-year-old, Skylar played her hook, line, and sinker. Nadia didn’t realize the true chaos that lay within him until her confidence was shattered. He was also an artist, and they were frequently in competition with each other. At first, it was a healthy competition, something that got their engines revving, but Nadia quickly became to blame whenever she had her paintings win a contest. As they got older, it got worse. If Nadia and Skylar’s paintings were both in a gallery and Nadia’s sold first, she was expected to give him the money. Sex, which Nadia had first enjoyed, became a chore and something to dread, and Nadia quickly realized she didn’t like having it with him anymore. The man she thought she loved was gone, and everything between them had become toxic.

Nadia’s parents were worried as their vivacious girl retreated more and more into her shell. She was too scared to talk to anyone about her treatment. Things came to a breaking point when Skylar hit her. That was when the pattern started-- he’d hit her, apologize, take her to a fancy dinner and buy her beautiful clothes, and then he’d hit her again. He forced her to wear a full face of makeup all the time, to the point where Nadia would wake up two hours early to cover up the bruises all over her face and body. She got great at doing makeup.

Eventually, things came to a breaking point, and after a surprise visit from her parents, they immediately took her home. Skylar soon followed, and things got heated in an argument between David and Skylar. Eventually, the police were called, Skylar was arrested for domestic abuse, and sent to prison. Free from her cage, Nadia is slowly getting back into what she loves most: painting, art, and photography. She works as a model in Miami but also has a popular YouTube channel where she posts unboxing videos, makeup tutorials, BTS of her photoshoots, and frequently participates in the “4 Photographers Shoot The Same Model” series. She’s happy, she’s home, and she’s thriving, which is the most important thing she can be.

[mona-stay]

Guardian Angel Part 4 - fangs Fogarty

Prompt - fangs gets in trouble when he finds a guardian Angel, but can she save him from her own family. Warnings - swearing, violence, anguish, blood, posable trigger warnings, fluff, Pairing - fangs Fogarty x reader Word count -  6300 it’s a long part :) 

part1  part2  part3 Story

After being at the wyrm fangs walked you home. Your mother was working another night shift, so you invited fangs in for a bit. Both of you cuddled up on the couch watching movies, his arm round you as he traced tiny little patterns on you hip. You hadn’t you head on his chest, with your legs over his. You could feeling him looking at you every now and then making you look up at him, asking simply his he okay. He’d nod and smile giving you sweet kisses.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, Fangs both still curled up together on the couch. A loud bang of your front door closing, woke you both up. Your mother stood looking at you and Fangs as you both groaned waking up. “good morning, this is a surprise” she said with a questioning looking between you and Fangs. You jumped up “mum this is fangs, Fangs this is my mum” you say feeling slightly embarrassed. Fangs rubbed his eyes with one hand holding out the other mumbling “hello Mrs y/l/n” his sleepy state made him look cute and sexy all at the same time.

Fangs asked to use the bathroom, after telling him were it was, you followed your mother into the kitchen. “he’s cute, sorry for walking in on your sleepover” she laughed taking things out of her bag. “mum please don’t embarrass me, I really like him” you say, your eyes begging her. When fangs comes back in your mum offers to make you all breakfast, Fangs smiled gladly accepting.

You got the quickest shower you’d ever had, afraid to leave you mum and boyfriend alone together. Who knows what your mother would do or say to him. Once you got our the shower you got dressed choosing minimal makeup to save time. When you come down the stairs you see your mum and Fangs both laughing, a little lost you sit at thee table next to fangs. His hand slid to yours squeezing it a little, giving you a smile that instantly settled any nerves or worries you had. After breakfast fangs said he wanted to go home to shower and change before school, you offered to drive him as he walked you home leaving his bike at the wyrm.

Fangs asked you in while he got changed, you happily waited. He came out about 20 minutes later. “you know we’ve already missed the start of first lesson, how about we miss the rest of the day” he said flirty. Smirking at him you agreed “your not gonna be needing these” he said taking your car keys out your hand putting then on the counter next to him. His hands cupped your face kissing you deeply, “so you wanna ditch school to spend the day in bed” you said rising your eyebrows. Fangs laughed “now as good as that idea sounds, I have other plans” he smiled grabbing your hand pulling you out the door. Keeping the mystery of his plans.

You both walked to the Whyte wyrm, more or less next door to the trailer park. Fangs gave you his helmet telling you he’d be back out now. You put the helmet on and waited next to his bike a few minutes later he came put smirking. “I have one quick stop to make before go where I wanna take you” he told you helping you on his bike.

A short ride later you were outside pops diner, Fangs ran in picking up and order. You thought maybe someone at the wyrm asked him to get it for them. He put the bag and drinks in the holdall in his bike, making sure that they didn’t spill.

Once you both got back on the road you looked round wondering where he was going. At sweet water river fangs didn’t go over the bridge like you expected, instead drove down a the walkers trail. You held on tighter as the ride became more bumpy, at the end of the trail fangs keep going, now truly off road. He finally stopped in a mass of trees, helping you off the bike, taking off the helmet, kissing you the second he could. He took the stuff out his bike then lead you past a thick brushed tree line into a small private clearing. It was beautiful, right next to the river an old log that had been placed to make a seat. There was wild flowers growing around, it was a place of pure beauty.

Fangs laughed watching you soak in the place. “bubblegum milkshake for you” he said handing you the drink. “thank you, it’s beautiful here” you said taking the drink. “it’s my special place, I found it a few months ago since then I started coming here if I needed time alone to think or have an escape from the life serpent’s for an hour” he said looking out at the calm water. You knew exactly what he meant, Riverdale had been something similar to you, an escape from gang life. Fangs had told how he became a serpent “my father was once a serpent too, but he’d gotten arrested and after a fight inside got him more years. I joined the serpent’s when I was 14 thinking it was the right thing to do   follow in my dad’s footsteps” he said, you grab his hand giving him a sad smile “don’t get me wrong, I love the serpent’s they are family better than my real family but the stigma that comes with being one makes future choices hard” he said.

You understand how he felt your life slightly mirroring his. You wanted to tell him about your family and how you were a gang members daughter but you didn’t want to ruin his heart to heart with you. After he told you how he wanted to a engineer go to university one day and get out of Riverdale. You told him your dream of maybe being a doctor. The rest if the day was spent talking nonsense and messing around. Fangs opened the bag he’d gotten from pops a mix of cakes and pastries for you both. You had started play fighting over a silly comment fangs had said, mainly so you’d get slightly annoyed and push or poke him. Play fighting turned into kissing as you both laid on the warm grass, watching as the sunset over sweet water river. The day was the perfect mix, hot make out sessions, playful goofiness and both deep and meaningless talks.

His phone rang disputing the bubble you bubble you’d had both been in all day. “just at sweet water” you heard him say. You could tell by the look on his face it was time to go, “yeah I’ll be over soon” you heard next, confirming your feeling. Fangs ended his call packing up and cleaning any mess you had both made. “guess I’ve been missed Toni asking where I am before sweet pea sends out a search party for me” he said laughing. Fangs asked if you wanted to go with him to the wyrm. Not wanting to leave him yet you agreed taking the helmet riding to the small town dive bar. As you walked in fangs his arm round your shoulder your arm around his waist.

This didn’t go unnoticed, especially by Toni. She’d asked fangs where he’d been all day, saying her and sweet pea were worried Ghoulies had gotten him again. Fangs assured her he was fine and how you and he had spent the day together, without going into detail.

Sweet pea came over with a tray of drinks bragging how he’d beaten the high score on the pinball game. The pair of them started talking and laughing before heading over to play pool asking you and Toni to join. Toni tapped your shoulder, “help me with these drinks first y/n” she said, Fangs pulled you back for a pecked kiss before letting you go.

You followed her but as you got to the bar she pulled you into a small quiet corner. You knew Toni didn’t like you, at first you thought it was jealously but after both fangs and sweet pea told you separately Toni was like a sister to him, you just assumed she didn’t like you. “he really likes you and Fangs doesn’t like people. Not like sweet pea, Fangs isn’t a player he’s an all or nothing type of guy” she looked over at the boys making sure they wasn’t watching, “the last girl fangs was with broke his heart, I was there trying to help him. He’s never really shown much interest in anyone since but then you come along. He’s got that same look in his eye he did with her and as his friend I know he can’t go through that type of pain again, so if your only here to mess him about then go now before he gets to involved” she said snarling you, her arms folded over her chest trying to look intimating. You looked at her then over to him, his smile filling you with butterflies. “It’s sweet how you look out for him. I like him a lot actually more than I probably expected to like someone, and I don’t know what is going to happen in the future but I’m not going to purposely hurt him,so you can stop worrying about him, I’ve already saves his ass twice” you say back, full of sass turning to the bar. She grabbed your arm “I mean it, your hurt I’m you’ll have me to deal with okay” she said before grabbing some drinks.

You walked back with drinks handing fangs his, still feeling a little annoyed by Toni pulling you to one side for a friendly chat. Fangs must of picked up on it “everything okay angel” he asked, Toni was watching you both. Standing on your tiptoes you wrap your arms around his neck, smashing your lips to his in heated passionate kiss. You hear a whistle come from pea and another serpent, a small tut you guessed was Toni. When you pulled back fangs was smiling wide, “what was that for?” he asked slightly surprised by the sudden kiss. Shrugging your shoulders “just for luck” you wink as he goes to take his shot. Looking at Toni you rise your eyebrows in a way to show her, your not intimidated by her threats. After a few drinks and games of pool, fangs took you home kissing you goodbye at the door

The next morning in school fangs walked round with his arm around you, his own way of showing everyone you were together now. At lunch he pulled you on to his lap at the serpent’s table. After school you all went the quarry then Whyte wyrm. It was the same all week, school, a trip to the spot by the river then time at the quarry or the bar. Even if it was simple and everyday it was still the happiest week of your life. It sounded childish but you had fallen in love with him and your new more normal life and didn’t want it to end.

Fangs dropped you off home, kissing you before he pulled off back to the trailer park. You walked in hearing the sounds of your brother and mum talking. “if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were moving in” you joked hugging him. “I might do and being the oldest, I’m taking your room. You can have the box one” he said back. You slapped his arm rolling your eyes. Even if nick was your half brother you still loved him, and knew him better than anyone. You watched the way he acted like everything was perfect with a false smile told you something was up with him. It didn’t help he was blanking repeated phone calls.

After dinner, you mum said her goodbyes heading for her night shift. He went the bathroom when his phone rang again, you saw Marcus name on the screen. When the call ended you noticed another 8 miss calls all from Marcus too. Nick walked tensing up when he saw you stood with your arms folded. “what’s going on” you asked him, are first he tried to say nothing. “don’t lie to me you have that same look mum has when she’s trying to pretend everything is okay when its far from okay, and your ditching calls from Marcus” you say.

Nick hated you could read him like a book, sighing he sat down rubbing his face in his hands. “I went to that woman, I lied I said you had sent me to renegotiate the deal” he said. You looked at him shocked “you did what” you scream at him, you didn’t want to be dragged into this you had already made it clear. Nick looked at you “I’m sorry I could only get to see her by using your name she refused me at first, anyway I tried to get her to deal with me and not Marcus” he paused.

His whole body shook as the colour drained from his face. You sat next to your big brother putting your hand on his arm as a way of reassuring him it’s alright. “Peabody told me the deal with Marcus had changed, the drugs where free and future deals cut by half if he kills the delivery driver, she can’t do it herself something and he’s in her gang but she’ll look out for him of he kills some kid for him” he tells you sheer fear in his voice. You sigh not knowing what to think of it all “I’m not a killer y/n I can’t be there when this happens and I can’t talk Marcus out of it ether do I’ve quit and come back here” he finished. You didn’t know what to say you wished you knew who this woman was and even if you did how could you  stop this. Nick probably had the best idea and the only advice you could have given him, stay out of it and don’t get involved.

Saturday morning you woke up thinking about what nick had said the night before. Fangs called asking you to meet him, you had spent most of the day with the serpent’s at the quarry, you fitted in with them making friends fast, even Toni was starting to warm to you.

As the sun started to set you all headed to the Whyte wyrm, “so sweet pea said he didn’t was to go with jughead and fp didn’t really want  jug going so finally me and sweets get to work together” he told you sounding excited about tonight. He hadn’t told you exactly what the job was but you didn’t really ask ether.

Toni and jughead had asked you stay at the wyrm when fangs had to leave. You walked outside kissing fangs keeping hold of his jacket, “hey, lover boy come we got to go” sweet pea shouted. You and Fangs laughed the end of your kiss, finally letting him go to the car. You went back inside, you sat by the bar as Toni started her shift, after your exchange of words on Monday you had both started to get along better.

“Two beers please topaz” fp Jones said stood next to you. Looking at him out the corner of your eye you wasn’t sure what to do. You had met fp Jones a number of times, there was no way he wasn’t going to recognise you. “now what are you, of all people going on my bar” he said raising his eyebrows. You gave him a nervous smile “Hi Forsyth” you said calling him his real name, his stern face broke into a smile “hello y/n long time now see” he said happily. “you know each other?” Toni asked, handed him his drinks, he slid one to you “we do and I think it’s time we had a talk don’t you y/n” he said moving from the bar gesturing for you to follow.

***

Sweet pea and Fangs had crossed the bridge into greendale. Fangs looked out the window thinking Jughead was right this place was creepy, most of the street lights where broken, the place was deserted. There was also an uneasy tension in the air, something fangs couldn’t shake. They pulled up to an old warehouse, a guard outside waiting “were here to see” sweet pea looked down at the bit of paper in his hand, “Marcus” he said reading off the paper. The guy nodded letting them know they had the right place.

The boys took to work unloading the creates, the guard went to find his boss. The door opened the guard stood there telling them to go in. Fangs grabbed his create following sweet pea, once through the door it slammed behind them, the sound of it locking didn’t ease fangs gut feeling. Three men came out of a small office, Fangs watched as two of them went to the creates looking in them before nodding at Marcus. Fangs knew sweet pea felt the same way he did, he saw sweets jaw clench and fists tighten readying himself for a fight when the two men stayed stood behind them.

“there is two of you? I got told only one delivery driver was coming” Marcus said looking between the two serpent’s. Sweet pea took a step forward to speak but was cut off by Marcus. “so which one if you is Jughead Jones?” Marcus asked, sweet pea and Fangs looked at each other confused “he’s not here” sweet pea said. Fangs gripped the knife in his pocket tighter, something told him this wasn’t going to be a simple deal. Marcus took a step forward “I was told Jughead jones would be making this delivery now if you tell me which one of you is jughead the other can go” his voice laced with threat. “we’ve already told you nether of us are him” fangs said. Marcus sighed nodding at this two friends, then walked back to the office. Before fangs or sweet pea could do anything they were hit hard in the back of the head knocking them both out.

***

You looked at fp “I heard you was in Riverdale, didn’t think I’d see you in here though” he said, taking a sip from his bottle. You had always like fp, not in a crush like way but like him as a person he was always respectful (unlike some of your father’s old business colleagues) he was smart and a great leader. “yeah a few of my new school friends are serpent’s of yours” you say looking at Toni. She snarled you from behind the bar, you had lied to her and she knew it. You had said you didn’t know what serpent’s were. Now your old friends with the boss.

Fp’s face softened “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m sorry about your father kid, he was a great man” he said. Your shoulders sank at the mention of your father, automatically you a said thanks although you didn’t know what you was thanking him for. FP tried to change the subject with the only thing he could think of business. “I hear you quit your dad’s gang” he said looking surprised. “I wanted to be normal for a while before becoming a mob boss” you joked.

“well you would have made a great boss, I could have worked with you any day. Not that idiot cousin of yours” he said. You laughed, fp had always hated Marcus, said he was too arrogant and had no brains to back it up. “yeah deals with you would have been easy and fun” you answered. “it’s a shame your not taking over I’m sure your boyfriend would have been happy to see you tonight” fp said finishing his drink.

You didn’t understand at first “what do you mean my boyfriend would be happy to see me?” you asked. “Fogarty, he is your boyfriend right you two look more than close” he said giving you his famous eyebrows rise. “yeah he is, but what dose that have to do with business” you ask. “sweet pea and Fangs are going to Greendale to see Marcus, the snake charmer been doing the deals with him so I don’t have to” fp told you. “the snake charmer isn’t called penny Peabody by any chance” your words came out slow and full of fear.

Your mind raced, when fp nodded. The words nick had told you the night before ran clear like bells in your mind. ‘Marcus is working for Peabody, she wants him to kill the delivery boy’ “fangs” you say aloud jumping out your chair leaving fp confused. You ran to Toni who was outside on her break, panicked your breathing was erratic “Toni look I know you don’t like me or trust me but please this once trust me now, we need to get to Greendale now, there gonna kill them!” you say pulling her to her truck. “what’s going on y/n what happened with fp?” she asked. You looked at her “give me your keys I know the way and I’ll tell you it all in the car” you answer.

You were driving Toni’s truck at almost 120mph, way above the speed limit of both the road and what Toni’s old truck should probably go bit you didn’t care you needed to get to fangs. You told her all about nick and Marcus and who you really was, about their deal with penny. Half way there you told Toni to keep trying to call sweet pea and Fangs, she’d called them both ten times each but you told her to keep talking. “it’s all my fault if I’d taken the stupid fucking job this wouldn’t be happening, if I hadn’t told nick I didn’t want to be involved I could of stopped this two weeks ago” you rambling pushing your foot down on the accelerator.

Toni tried to tell you none of this was your fault and you was probably over reacting “look you my have dated Marcus for a whole of two weeks but you don’t know him or my fami……” you stop talking getting your phone out your pocket, using your hands free you make your own set of calls telling Toni to keep trying fangs and pea.

As you got close to the warehouse you told Toni to wait outside for you, you didn’t know what you was about to walk into and wanted to save her the sight of you was too late.

***

Sweet pea was woke by the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. As the fog faded he noticed he couldn’t move his arms were tied behind his back and his feet tied together. He looked over his shoulder seeing fangs still passed out on the floor, also tied up.  “fangs, hey fangs! Wake up, Fogarty!” sweet pea called trying to wake him. Slowly fangs started to come round, feeling a dull throb in his head. “what the hell?” he started to ask. Outside they could hear shouting, Marcus was saying something about this wasn’t part of the arrangement, who ever he was speaking to couldn’t be heard.

Marcus walked in ending a call putting the phone back in his pocket. Fangs noticed the look in his face anger and a hint of panic. He whispered something to another 2 men who entered the room. They guy had a knife in his hand cutting both fangs and sweet peas ropes, only on their legs. “get up” he said dragged sweet pea to his feet, sweets struggling and swearing at him. When Marcus went to grab fangs, Fangs headbutted Marcus making him stumble back.

“fuck” Marcus said holding his nose. He lifted up his gun “I didn’t want to kill you both but for that I think I’ll shot you first” Marcus said punching fangs. Sweet pea screaming and swearing, between all the shouting no one saw the door open, or you strut in.

“don’t you fucking dare, lay one more finger on them” you say, making everyone look in your direction. As you walked in closer your saw the blood coming from both sweet pea and Fangs, the sight made your heart shatter, you wanted to run over to him hug and hold him but you couldn’t show the emotion you felt in fear of breaking. “Marcus put the gun down, and you two untie them NOW!” you shouted pointing at the serpent’s.

At first no one moved, when Marcus saw the loyalty of his friends he smirked. “aw poor y/n thinks she’s in charge, not anymore you gave up that power” Marcus said stepping closer to you. “now I have a deal to finish, grab them” Marcus said lifting his gun up to sweet pea. The two men behind sweet pea and Fangs grabbed their shoulders but didn’t move yet.

You ran standing in front of the gun slowly backing up to fangs and pea, still using your body to block Marcus's shot. “I’m not going to let you do this, your going to start a war. These boys belong to Fp Jones, one of your fathers good friends might I add. You kill them you’ll start a war between friends and our oldest allies” you say making your posture taller and strong.

Marcus rolled his eyes “y/n get out of the way, this is nothing to do with you, I’ve called the snake charmer and she’s told me what needs to be done, no witness even if the wrong boys came tonight. They know too much she wants them gone” he said.

Your body shook with nerves, and Marcus could clearly see it, you knew he and everyone else in the room could see it. Your normal cool state was getting hard to keep. “the snake charmer doesn’t speak for the serpent’s” sweet pea said. The man holding pea hit him hard. You span on the spot anger filled your face “I said don’t fucking touch them, next time I’ll show you why I was handed this job in the first place” you ordered.

Fangs looked in fear as you took a step closer to Marcus, his mind raced with questions about why you were there, how you and Marcus seamed to know each other, where did this new side of you come from?. “I said put the gun down Marcus this is over”. Marcus laughed “really y/n, what happened to I’m not getting involved in family business!” he said.

Behind you sweet pea and Fangs gasped at Marcus words, your shoulders sank knowing your secret was out, even if you was going to tell fangs once this was over, you didn’t want him to find out like this. Fangs looked at you and sweet pea it was starting to make sense to him now, “your family?” fangs asked a frown on his face you sighed “he’s my cousin, I should of told you I was a mob leaders daughter but I didn’t want you to hate me” you told him.

Marcus looked and laughed “oh now isn’t this sweet y/n has herself a little serpent boyfriend, shames it’s not going to last long now, y/n move or I’ll just shoot you too” Marcus said. He wouldn’t dare shoot you but right now the threat came out his mouth anyway.

Fangs watched as Marcus pointed the gun at you. Although you had been stood in the way of sweet pea the whole time, Marcus moved it inches to show aiming. Fangs stepped forward to protect you best he could. Turning you put your hand on his chest to stop him “please baby let me sort this” you said to fangs, “please trust me” you mouthed to him so Marcus didn’t hear. You looked back at Marcus, you had a small flick knife in your pocket, sliding it out you looked at your cousin, hoping your uncle would stick to his word.

The silence was interrupted by the buzz of 3 mobile phones. Marcus looked confused as you your worried look changed into a confident grin “about bloody time” you say aloud full of sass, this was the message you’d been waiting for. Out the corner of your eye you could see the others take out their phones. “that will be the message telling you I’m back and taking over” you said. “now let them go this deal is over” you say to the two men holding your friends.

Like good soldiers the followed your commands and untied them. Your attention went to fangs as you hugged him tight. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this” you say. Fangs didn’t hug you at first, something felt off before he wrapped his arm around you. Seeing sweet pea and the other two boys looking at you, you step out if fangs hold. “sweet pea, Toni is outside waiting, maybe go spear her the worry” you say then pointed at Marcus or now your henchmen “you two can load them creates back into their car” you order, everyone quickly goes off doing their tasks. You look at fangs who was still stirring at you in a my that made you feel nervous. He started to walk away to follow sweet pea.

Marcus smashed his phone off the wall, you all looked over at him. “no, you can’t do this, you can’t just come back whenever you want” he screams. You wasn’t sure what to do Marcus was angry “your not taking everything from me” he carried on saying “Marcus it’s done its the way it should be, I know your not happy but you know this is how it should be” you try to reason with him. “how it should be, what were you get everything and I have nothing” he said lifting his arm. “well for once your not getting everything, say goodbye to your boyfriend y/n”

Everything happened so fast for everyone. For fangs he heard Marcus words, looking back seeing his gun rise and y/n run in front of him, hearing the bang but not seeing what happened as they both fell to the floor. For Marcus all he saw was red, everything y/n had and wanted to destroy it. Y/n was already in front of him as he pulled the trigger, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder seeing her flick knife buried in his skin. For you, it was like slow motion. You saw Marcus if his arm, knowing what he was going to do. Flicking out the blade in your sleeve you run to try and protect fangs. You felt the bullet hit your hip, but instant reaction your arm lunched forward stabbing Marcus in the shoulder, making him drop the gun.

Fangs screamed, seeing you drop to the floor. Marcus dropped to his knees to help you, he was in total fear over what he’d done. Fangs punched him “get away from her” she screamed before coming to your side. When Toni and sweet pea came running in Toni shouted she’d call an ambulance, both you and Marcus shouted no at the same time. The pain was unbearable, you felt dizzy as you try to stand. Fangs and sweet pea both held you, “take her to her mother she was the best doctor our gang had” Marcus said still shaken about what he’d done, he turned “I’m sorry y/n I should have listened to you from the start” he said before leaving with his friends.

***

Almost back to Riverdale fangs sat in the back of Toni’s truck pressing his flannel onto your wound. Fangs looked at you, your eyes closed, you were barely breathing. The whole trip had been like this your adrenaline had worn off making you drift in and out of consciousness. “y/n, y/n” he said shaking you a little, your eyes opened but it’s hard to keep them like that. Fangs started talking to you to try and keep you awake as Toni spoke with your mother on the phone telling her what happened to you. “I know you took the job as my personal guardian Angel but seriously I don’t want you to die doing it” he said, making you laugh a little “I can’t die you get into trouble to much”. The movement sent pain firing through your body, you was really struggling to keep your focus on fangs.

Fangs laughed at Toni’s comment to yours, he turned to see if you was at least smiling and to tell you they’d past the trailer park not long left. He saw your head down your hand in his had gone limp. Panicked fangs screamed your name, Toni turned looking at you both, Driving faster still not happy about not going to the hospital.

Once they got to your house your mum and brother was waiting, to take you in. Your mother was in the kitchen with one of her trusted work colleagues doing her best to remove the bullet and stop the bleeding. She wasn’t a stranger to this job, patching up gang members who had been shot or stabbed but this was her first time working on one of her children, it was harder to keep cool and steady.

In the living room your brother grilled, Fangs sweet pea and Toni about what had happened. After they finished explaining how Marcus was told to kill them, y/n being in love with fangs wouldn’t allow him to do it, ending in Marcus shooting y/n. Nick grow more worked up as sweet pea told the story, Fangs hadn’t spoken or took his eyes from the kitchen door waiting for Mrs y/l/n to come out with news. Nick flew out the door, everyone guessing it was to see Marcus. Sweet pea got a call from fp Jones wanting to know what was going on, sweet pea filled him in a little before leaving to go the Whyte wyrm and sort out this penny situation.

Fangs and Toni sat in silence for what felt like forever. Fangs had lines down his face from his silent tears. He still had his blood soaked flannel in his shaking hands. “I was wrong about her” Toni said looking at him holding his arm to calm him. Fangs frowned his eyebrows “what do you mean?” he said. “I said she couldn’t be trusted, I said she’s hurt you, I even told sweets I didn’t believe she actually loved once” Toni said “but I was wrong, after seeing the worry and fear in her face when she thought you were hurt. Hearing her in the saying she didn’t know what she’d do if was dead. It was nothing but pure love for you fangs I was wrong she’s belongs with you” Toni said. Fangs smiled thanking her for telling him this although he wasn’t sure why, maybe to give him something happy to hold onto if she didn’t come out of that kitchen alive. “I love her too, I mean I knew I like her a lot but after hearing that gunshot and her drop to the floor, I don’t know how explain it. I knew I loved her more than anything and I was about to lose her” he answered.

Your mother came out fangs was right to his feet, she gave a teary smile. “she’s okay, she’ll be okay” she said reaching out hugging fangs. Toni left not long after, Fangs asked could he stay with you or at least at the house until you woke. Your mother agreed after asking for his help to get you to your bed. Fangs sat in a small wooden chair next to your bed all night, your mother had offered him food and a spear bed but he refused. It was around 4am when you started to wake, Fangs was asleep his head on your bed, his and in yours. Pulling your hand away woke him, Fangs jumped up looking around. “y/n your awake” he practically shouted. You shush him he smiles saying sorry.

Fangs gives you a small kiss, “I can’t believe you actually took a bullet for me” fangs says looking you deep in the eyes, a loving smile on his face. “isn’t that what guardian Angels are supposed to do” you joke trying to get up better wincing as you do. “please don’t do it again y/n” he says his face saddened. When you didn’t answer he looked at you “I mean it I thought I was going to loose you tonight” his voice raw with emotion. You pat the bed for him to get in with you, both cuddling up as best as the pain in your body with let you. “I couldn’t let you get hurt I love you too much” you say putting your head on his chest. Fangs smiled thinking back to what Toni had told him “I love you too y/n I really do”

Looking round the room you start to laugh to yourself. Fangs looks at you odd thinking maybe the pain medication your mother gave you hadn’t wore off “are you okay?” he asked. “this reminds me of the very first day we met only the other way around now I’m the one with the bandaged up hip” you smile at him, Fangs landed his head down capturing your lips with his “I knew then your were my angel and I was right” he smirks kissing you again. You spent the rest of the night talking until you feel asleep in each other’s arms thinking after tonight nothing could ever tear you apart.

Tags @superoptimist1997 @sweetest-serpent @slytherinstolethetardis @that-idiot125 @princess-of-the-fandoms

[lubdubsworld]

Amor Vincit omnia ( 3/20)

Yoongi/ Oc gang AU. 

chapter 3

"The next time you walk out on me like that I'll wring your neck." Yoongi snapped, standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom, buttoning up his shirt. I sat on the bed, staring at him. For reasons he refused to diverge, he'd moved in with me at the penthouse. He slept in the same bed as me , although the bed was big enough for us to sleep without coming anywhere near each other. Some days he didn't come home till the early hours of morning . I ended up having to cook breakfast for him. But he didn't eat all that often. Somedays he glared at me and left. Some days he threw the food in the trash.

So why did I do it?

Because it made me feel good, to be honest. Rejection and abuse isn't exactly a novel experience for me. I'd grown up with neglectful, abusive parents and I'd long mastered the art of finding happiness by myself. I enjoyed making breakfast and I felt good doing it for him. How he chose to take it, didn't really bother me all that much.

I'd read somewhere that Pain is inevitable but suffering is optional. I had no intention of suffering because of the way he saw me. He was welcome to his beautiful girlfriend and I was happy enough by myself. I was happy just being away from my abusive, violent father and his ham like fists. I was happy being able to wake up in the morning , fearing what wrong step was going to earn me a belt to my torso.

Yoongi wasn't at all like my father. He was angry most of the time, smiled very rarely but he was honest and fair. His anger towards me was warranted so I didn't really judge him for it.

He looked very handsome in a plain white shirt and tailored black slacks and I wanted to tell him as much. But I didn't say anything.

"I think my parents might be coming home for dinner tonight. Don't over do the whole happy bride act you've got going on. It makes me sick to my stomach." He snapped , slipping on a tie and fixing it in quick deft movements. He had really nice fingers, long and well formed. I thought he'd be exceptionally good at pottery. I'd left all my pottery tools at home and i did miss my hobby sometimes. But I also enjoyed needlework and I'd managed to sneak most of the supplies from home.

"I'll make sure dinner is ready. At what time will they be arriving ?" I asked. He stared at me through the reflection in the mirror and my face started heating up. Yoongi had the habit of gazing unblinkingly at people when he was deep in thought. It's a bit too unsettling to get used to.  It doesn't help that his eyes look rather fierce on most days.

"Around seven I think. I don't know. Like I said, don't over do it. And for God's sake why don't you cut your hair? It's so fucking long it looks like its trying to swallow you whole!" He snapped. I blinked in surprise. Honestly, I didn't really like my long hair. I'd only ever had it because my father refused to let me cut it. I hesitated, not sure what to say.

"I'll...cut it then?" I meant to make it a statement but it came out as a question and he looked even angrier.

"Talking to you is like talking to a fucking doormat. You don't even argue or put up a fight with me. What the hell do you even want from this marriage ?" He said angrily. Before I could reply, he stalked out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. I stared at the shut door, surprised. One would think a guy like Yoongi would be happy to have a doormat for a wife. And really what right did he even have to be annoyed? I'm not a doormat really, I just don't enjoy fighting or arguing with people who would never understand what it was like to just be able to breathe without worrying who you were upsetting.

I spent the day cleaning the house and rearranging the little knick-knacks around the house. By evening the house fairly sparkled and I smelled a bit like week old laundry. I took a long shower and then tied my hair up in a long and neat plait, letting it fall back behind me. My husband was right. It was rather freakishly long. I made a mental note to visit a salon and get it cut.

Yoongi's warning to not over-do it stayed in the back of my mind and so I barred myself from makeup, wearing just minimal lipstick and some eye-liner. The lack od make-up made me look rather young and naive so I changed my mind about a navy blue strapless dress and replaced it with a simple peach colored gown with a mauve trim. I wore simple sterling silver earrings and left my neck bare.

I'd just finished setting the table and making sure everything was ready. I also directed the two or three men who would be in charge of serving the dinner. The doorbell rang just as I finished slipping on some peep-toe heels.

When I opened the door , the last thing I expected was to see Lee Hye Mi .

She looked enviably normal in jeans and a t-shirt. I bit my lips as she stepped in , brushing right past me without a word. She turned around near the couch and gave me a look.

"Well, aren't you the perfect bride?" she sneered. I stood still staring back evenly.

"What do you want?" I said casually.

"You're the most shameless bitch I ever met." She spat out angrily and I stifled the urge to smile.

"I've heard worse. What the hell do you want?"

"Min Yoongi. I want my man back." She said shrilly.

"Look around, he's not here. If you don't know where he is , that's something you should work out between yourselves." I pointed out brusquely. She looked like she may explode.

"You think you're so great, forcing my Yoongi to marry you? Do you honestly think this is going to last forever?? He's going to dump your sorry ass the moment he turns twenty seven and the inheritance becomes his." She said gleefully.

This was news to me.

I nodded understandingly.

"Alright. Does that mean you'll stay out of my face for the next year at least?" I smiled sweetly .

She laughed then.

"You won't be smiling when I'm through with you. Did you think today was about meeting the parents and having a good time? Think again bitch. He's going to tell his parents that he wants a divorce. I told him to. " She said fiercely.

That made me freeze.

What ?

"You're insane. Get out of my house." I said angrily. She smiled again and moved to the door.

"I'm warning you. you better let him go before you regret it." She snapped before sailing out of the place furiously.

I stared after her in mild apprehension. I wasn't scared of her but I was a little afraid of her influence on Yoongi. He didn't seem like the sort of man who would listen to a woman no matter how much he loved or cared for her. He'd married me because he couldn't stand up to his parents . He wouldn't tell his parents he wanted a divorce, would he?

An hour later I realized that I was right. He wouldn't tell his parents he wanted a divorce.

But he would happily tell mine.

I stood perfectly still, watching my husband as he poured a drink for my father. I couldn't catch his eye. He wouldn't look me in the eye. I was desperate, the pulse pounding in side my veins. When he moved to the kitchen to fetch something I rushed after him.

"Please don't tell them you want a divorce." I said without preamble. He gave me a look.

"Either you do or I do. You can pick." He said calmly, taking the crushed ice and filling up the container. I struggled to think straight.

"I will. I'll give you a divorce. Just..give me a couple of weeks. Just a few weeks. I'll find a way to move out and I swear I'll give you a divorce." What was I saying? I had no education. I wouldn't last a day outside.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I told you I don't want to stay married to you. And your parents are wealthy enough to find you some other poor sucker. " He snapped.  

"I'm telling you I'll leave you. You can marry your girlfriend soon after. Just give me some time.."

"Does this even make sense? Your father is the richest guy in town! You should be happy about going back to your life as a pampered princess!! I'm beginning to think there's something seriously wrong with you. Are you a crazy person?" He snapped. Looking back, I could've told him the truth . That my father was a monster. But I didn't . Because I was ashamed. Because I was afraid he wouldn't believe me.

I dropped to my knees without thinking.

"Please...I'm begging you, don't tell my father..." I stopped when a familiar shadow crossed over the threshold.

"Don't tell me what?"

I went still as a corpse. He wouldn't , would he?

I shut my eyes.

"There's something we need to talk about, abeonim." Yoongi said.

Darkness closed over me as I realized that my life was about to be finished.

"You little whore." My father's voice resonated through the large , empty foyer of our home. I'd just come here, summoned by my father. I stood perfectly still. I was actually numb inside and out. My brain wouldn't function anymore. I swallowed nervously.

"I didn't do anything wrong, father." I said softly.

He gave me a look of utter revulsion.

"Like you never did anything wrong with me, I suppose?" He sneered and I flinched when his hands moved to his belt buckle.

"I'm married now. I don't have to stay here." I told him firmly.

"Well, your husband seems to disagree. I told him I'll take you back and he was only to happy to agree." He grinned evilly and I swallowed bile.

Yoongi had signed my death warrant.

Slowly terror began bubbling up inside me as I realized that my father was going to kill me . His face was morphing in that way I was so familiar with. Fresh rage shone through his gaze and his face looked florid with hatred and fury. My hands began trembling as I took a step back.

"Father. Please."

But it was too late.

"You thought you could come back here and suck the life blood out of me again? Did you really think I'd put up with you again, just when I was sure I got rid of you? I'd sooner see you dead and buried!!"

My father grabbed me by the shoulder and rammed me straight into the wall, the impact jarring me so bad I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. White noise filled my head as my skull came in contact with the oak and mahogany finish of the fireplace. I could feel my skin split wide open, liquid gushing out. My tongue was too think in my mouth and I felt like I was drowning. But my father wasn't done with me. He hit me right across the jaw, harder than ever before and I felt like my entire face had been set on fire. He punched me right in the stomach and my knees gave out, I sank to the floor, vision swimming and unfocused.

The next second , searing pain shot through my scalp as my father dragged me up by my hair and i scrambled to follow him as he dragged me to the front door. I tried to move closer to ease the pressure on my scalp but he yanked me faster and faster till we reached the front door . He pushed me hard enough to send me hurtling down the two small stairs that led to the driveway. I felt something crack inside me when his boots connected sharply with my ribs. I lay there panting , bleeding and aching. It was freezing cold and my breath clouded in front of me. My coat was still in the inner closet and I was wearing a thin blue dress.

"You'll stay here till morning. If you're still alive, I'll think of a solution." He spat on me and stormed back in.

I lay there perfectly still, summoning every ounce of my energy just to sit back up.

If I stayed out here, I would freeze to death. Yet my biggest fear was that my father would change his mind and open the door and drag me back inside.

Moving felt like hell but I managed to walk out of the driveway. The guard looked so stunned at the sight of me he didn't move. When I reached the road, I clung to the walls that lined our estate,  trying to assess how badly I was hurt. Everything ached and common sense told me I would have to get to a hospital . But if I did , they may send me back to my father , who may likely drag me back home and make sure he finished the deed.

Struggling to breathe against the pain in my ribs, I walked all the way to the convenience store about seven blocks away. I stood there, suddenly realizing that I had no one to call for help. No friends. No family. Only a husband who had abandoned me when I'd begged him to help. Pain lanced my heart and I couldn't stop the tears that stung. I cried for a long time, got all the emotions out. When I was finally done, my jaw aching and my emotions ripped to shreds I actually pulled myself together and evaluated my situation.

I'd hit rock bottom.

I would have to find a way to survive WITHOUT Yoongi or my father. I did have a high school diploma. I could get some low paying job. I still had my watch and my diamond studs on. Not to mention the platinum wedding band that lay in a a small chain around my neck. I could pawn those off for cash and it should at least support me for a while.

As I thought about it, I felt something very new and exhilarating fill my heart. For the first time, I was taking an active role in my own future.

Fuck Prince charming.

I would rescue myself.

But first things first. I needed medical attention and I needed it quick. Who to call? Who did I know who would do me favors?

Kim Namjoon.

He was Yoongi's friend and literally the only person who had been anything close to civil to me. I got his number from the information desk and when the first ring went through I almost hung up in fear. Some of my bravado faded. What if he told Yoongi?

"Please don't tell Yoongi..." I said repeatedly, once he picked the phone and I told him I was hurt.

"Okay..don't worry, Everything's going to be fine." he said confidently. He asked me where I was and advised me to find the nearest bench and take a seat. He would be there in fifteen minutes tops. I sat down quickly and sure enough a white mercedes pulled up in front of me , less than ten minutes later.

But it wasn't Namjoon who got out.

Min Yoongi stepped out of the car and I felt my heart drop down to my knees .

He took one look at me and went even paler , if that was even possible. He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes carefully noting the bruised skin on my bare shoulders, the torn fabric of my dress and the blood congealed on the gash on my head, stark against my light brown hair.

Before I could say a word, he stepped close and , very very gently, gathered me into his arms.

"I got you." He grunted as he carried me to the car. I stayed quiet, anger and helplessness battling for dominance inside me. But I swallowed my words. I wouldn't speak to him. To my surprise, he slid in next to me. I tried to stay still but found myself leaning helplessly against him as the car drove through the suburbs. He immediately wrapped an arm, just over my ribs, fully supporting my weight and keeping the pressure off my ribs.

"It's alright. I got you." He said again, his voice scarily tense and his face like a thundercloud. If he was so angry why was he helping me??

In the hospital, no body stopped us to fill forms or to talk. I was laid on a stretcher and the moment my head hit the soft pillow, every ache magnified and I went limp with exhaustion.

But through the dim haze I heard someone question.

"Who's she , sir?"

And then Yoongi's voice, low and furious and shaking with anger.

"She's my wife."

I shut my eyes and lost consciousness.

[mcvfd]

S05E03: Don't you want to report the OTHER crime?

Kanye is outraged by a villian’s lack of respect. Nissa gets really into erotic sketching. Averlyth forgot she knows how to teleport.

TL;DR: Carlos and Kanye confront Taldic, but it doesn’t go well. In the ensuing brawl, he escapes, revealing a tattoo of a red horse head. Meanwhile, Averlyth, Nissa, and Um sneak into the second warehouse, and recover proof that Taldic is behind the poisonings. The gang prepares to roll up on the fort.

Background:

We received our first assignment from the Queen Dragon, to investigate a series of deliberate poisonings in the water.

Um had been looking into it previously, so he filled the group in about what he's found so far, and then the group went upstream to find the source of the poison. Group steals some cures from the warehouse, go to the town that's the source, then Carlos and Kanye get a job that goes back to the warehouse, Kanye then knocks himself out running into a building (claiming he saw puppies).

The party decides to split - Carlos and Kanye goes back to town to confront the TL (the person in the note), and the rest of the group are going to stay on the hill for combat if necessary.

Session:

Group finalizing strategy

Deciding to talk to Talldic as if we had poured the poison in

Contacting group 2 with fartie talkies

In the field office, there is:

A director that we report to

A medic

Head of magic

Quartermaster

Resources that could be provided

Logistical assistance (i.e. distrubtion of medicine)

Military assistance (minimal)

Um: That's what I'm worried about, we're sending away the people that are good at breaking into forts

Um: Can we set ground rules not to burn down the fort?

Averlyth: Kanye.....

Kanye: Kanye promises not to burn down the fort.

DM: Sir, there's a drunk bard at the door?

Group planning

Kanye and Carlos will go to the town and confront the guy that wants to meet them for pouring the poison into the river

Nissa will drink

She starts doing character sketches of all the guards

She ends up seeing hot guys working out and starts drawing hotter sketches

Averlyth memorizes the guard rotation

The group realizes no one knows what Talldic actually looks like

Um describes it based off of the portraits

Apparently he looks like a tall dick with a weasley mustache

DM: I mean, you guys don't know what he looks like because this is a second-hand description from a painting?

Kanye and Carlos will go down to the river to hang out to see if anyone is watching

At midnight they're going to dump Carlos's pee into the river

Apparently he had asparagus

Nothing remarkable happens during the day - they don't see anyone observing them

Kanye and Carlos loudly pour "The Poison" into the river (or rather, Woodhouse does it for them) and then they saunter over to the High Life Wine & Dispensary.

Carlos shouts "I need some tall dick"

Turns out Talldic has bouncers, who escort Kanye and Carlos over to his booth

Kanye tests the table - it is bolted to the floor

Talldic narrows his eyes at the two of them: "How did you know that name?"

Kanye: "The alchemist at the warehouse told us the name"

Note: The alchemist did not. But Kanye did not actually know that.

Talldic squints, but waves it off and then asks about the job.

Carlos goes: "What job? You mean your ingenious plan?"

Kanye goes: "We don't know anything! We poured the, uh, vial thing."

Talldic tells the bouncers to get rid of "these two assholes".

The bouncer tries to lift Kanye out of the bench, but he keeps himself seated with his legs, rattling it a bit. The bartender starts looking over at the noise; the drunk girls haven't noticed, a guy with a joint starts heading out.

Kanye: "Hey man, we were going to get paid."

Carlos: "Hey actually we know what's up with your scheme and we want more lofty positions within your organization".

Talldic isn't actually listening and has been angrily asking the bouncers why they haven't been escorted out yet.

A bouncer goes for Kanye's face.

Carlos turns to Kanye and gives the codeword, "Queens" - which means to just get the fuck out

Kanye decides to attempt to flip the table [while taking the punch]

First attempt fails

Second attempt flips a plate of chicken and hits a drunk girl

The girl that got hit is crying because her makeup and hair took a long time

Her sassy friend walks over going what the fuck is wrong with you

Carlos heads on out with a "We'll be in touch"

The sassy drunk girl goes to the door but doesn't follow the two outside

Kanye attempts to flirt

The sassy drunk girl angrily follows Kanye outside and continues yelling

Carlos carves a pipe out of a pear that kind of looks like a teddy bear and she calms the fuck down and accepts the peace offering

Carlos: I'm stealthy, I don't know if you're stealthy

Kanye: I'm stealthy if I stay very still

Kanye: I'm going to do my best impression of Um and climb on top of something and watch.

Also Kanye: I don't know much about being sneaky but I know a really sneaky guy and this is what he would do.

The group decides we've identified enough evidence to arrest the guy

The group contemplates if this is the first time that Kanye's degree of pedigree will be of use

Kanye: It's time to invoke some privilege, Woodhouse!

Carlos: Typical rich kid.

Kanye: I'm here to report a crime! I am Kanye from the house of Cantaliber and I just had a table thrown on me!

Deputy: Oh yes, at the low life? It happens all the time.

Kanye: Right! So we need to send people to arrest the man that assaulted me.

Carlos: Don't you want to report the other crime?

The deputy is weirded the fuck out by Kanye but doesn't disbelieve him exactly, so he decides to go wake up the Sheriff, Sheriff Deputy. Not to be confused with his assistant, Deputy Sheriff.

Kanye immediately proclaims he is part of a secret group.

Kanye has failed many rolls but is too noble to be arrested despite his drunkenness.

Deputy and Sheriff escort Kanye to the Low Life bar, and then Kanye interrupts saying it's the wrong bar, and then calls out for Carlos, who was across the street from the High Life anyways.

Carlos explains about the infiltration to investigate the poisoning, using all his big words and saying "Officer" a lot.

The Sheriff still barely understands him.

Then, Talldic and the two bouncers walk out of the High Life.

The Sheriff calls Talldic over.

Sheriff: "I'm so sorry sire, these guys have been telling me that you're like the head of the criminal organization?"

Talldic looks like a smug motherfucker

Carlos immediately cuts him off and says: "My associates are clearing out your warehouse right now."

A momentary flash of worry and annoyance flashes across his face and he starts to walk away, very vocally annoyed.

The Sheriff tries to call him back, but Talldic continues with the scathing "I don't have to deal with this bullshit", threatens to fire the Sheriff, how he's a lawabiding citizen, etc.

The Sheriff no longer has sympathy for Talldic, but isn't that confident about going after him with the two burly guys right next to him.

Kanye: Sheriff, I would like to be deputized to arrest this citizen.

Talldic rolls his eyes and turns and walks away and tells the bouncers to deal with it. The two guards roll up on Kanye and Carlos, pull out hatchets, and start going at it.

Kanye fucks the guy in front of him right up til he's all bloody and then trips him

Carlos arcs a badass lighting bolt but it sails past the guy down the alley

The Sheriff decides to arrest the thugs

He runs to the guy in front of Carlos and hits him over the head

The Deputy decides to arrest Kanye and Carlos

He goes to hit Kanye but Kanye is so well-armored it doesn't really do anything

The bouncer on the ground gets up and goes after Kanye, who gets hit but then wrenches the hatchets out of his hands and throws them back at him.

Then Kanye pushes him off balance, although he doesn't hit the deputy like he's aiming.

The bouncer in front of Carlos knocks Carlos down to 0 health and then hits the Sheriff once.

Kanye takes off towards Talldic, screaming "FREEZE, YOU'RE UNDER ARREST" and holding two hatchets.

Talldic runs faster

Kanye tries to grapple Talldic, who slithers his way out and just manages to escape the hold and take off running. Kanye does manage to rip his shirt off, which exposes a picture of a large red horsehead tattoo on his chest.

Kanye runs back to the fight, where Carlos is lying on the ground, drops the hatchets to pull out a glaive and makes a goading attack on the bouncer.

Kanye: And your mother was a- wait how does it go? .... Woodhouse, line!

Both of the bouncers see their boss heading out and try to escape after him.

Kanye stabs at the guy who was attacking Carlos - they don't die, but they're looking pretty bad.

Kanye: I do have a potion of healing!

DM: lol Kanye drinks it.

Kanye: I pour one out for my homey!

Kanye pours a healing potion down Carlo's throat.

Sheriff now believes them and asks where they're heading.

Sheriff: How are you going to notify your compatriots?

Carlos: We have ways.

Kanye: We have scornful crows!

Carlos elects to use the fartie talkie to communicate to the other half of the party that the plan didn't really go that well.

Kanye tries to get deputized again

Kanye and Carlos make a way to the stables on the nicer side of town to see if they can intercept Talldic

There is no sign of action

Kanye: Is there a stablehand around?

DM: At 3 in the morning? No.

Kanye: So these are free horses then?

Kanye: He's been dealt with! All that's left is the warehouse.

DM: In what way has he been dealt with??

Kanye: I have his shirt!

Kanye describes the ripped shirt and tattoo over the walkie talkies

Nissa doesn't quite recall anything specific enough that matches the tattoo, despite being very well read about the matter - seems to imply the tattoo is for a secret org?

Group planning

Carlos and Kanye will clean up and rest

Nissa, Um and Averlyth will break into the warehouse

Um: So we've established that I can move under the cover of daylight. Wait, I mean..

Carlos: Yeah the other thing.

Nissa and Averlyth both tripped and stumbled on the way into warehouse with the cure, which made Um so so so nervous, but no one was actually alarmed.

They climb down to the lab, and look around. They find alchemists notes (that contain the formula for the poison) as well as paperwork that confirms assumptions. They find more receipts and paperwork showing that Fresenius Restoration owns the area, and some correspondance with Alchemists and Talldic. Basically proof that we are correct.

Nissa files the paper under E for Evidence

It follows the Dewey Decimal System

Averlyth pockets a vial of the poison

To give Talldic a taste of their own poison, when we eventually catch him

Group brainstorming

Set a distraction?

Dig a tunnel?

Set the stables on fire?

Cast an illusion of stables on fire?

Leave erotic pictures in the warehouse?

Averlyth discovers she can teleport

New plan:

Um will sneak over to the Warehouse and find a way in

Then, Averlyth will take Nissa and teleport in

Um successfully sneaks over and discovers a roof access hatch at the top

No light is coming out of the building, there are no sounds

He opens up the hatch and the inside is pitch black

He climbs down the warehouse, and there is no one in there

He takes the lantern down to the lighting

This warehouse contains an even larger cache of the cure

Um: So I guess the question is can we leave and do something else?

DM: That is .. the question of this group.

No reason for Nissa and Averlyth to go into the warehouse after all.

Carlos and Kanye finish their long rest and make their way back to the fort

Agreed to just leave the fort tonight.

Basically nothing happens

The group reconvenes at the bluff

Basically nothing happens

To be continued...

[lualye]

B here,

9:34am/  in class distracted by the pictures and snapchats from my closest pals who are scattered across this big wide world. Pondering thoughts such as ‘how did we grow up so fast?’, and ‘Did I miss the bandwagon of travel and adventure?’, ‘why am I in this lecture?’.

9:50am/  immersed in my FB screen having chats w/ Katie & Beth, both a pin in the map somewhere in Europe. Both on different adventures, different seasons with God, different aspirations, different lenses to which they see the world through, but two of my fave go-to gals for deep chats.

9:55am/ Thoughts are scattered through my mind about the 4th of the gang, the sister of the best curly haired pal Katie, the sister that is kinda more of a friend now. Another voice and face I wish I could see, but is again- so far.

You know, FB messenger can only provide so much and I get tired of the effort it takes to type out messages, only to reach the conclusion that it’s never going to be like it used to be when we could chat face to face. The days where the sunlight filtered through windows laden with condensation, and two messy haired girls would rise from slumber to cook up some oaty pancakes, brew a fresh pot of coffee, chuck a record on and unpack their souls till the morning turned into noon. The days where us 4 girls would pack into my car and hit the road to find thrift shop goodies, perhaps a lonesome fields of wheat grass, or park up in the city to find a spot for good caffeine. It’s different now.

10:15am/ I shut my laptop, decide to write a blog post about this later on and try to concentrate on the here and now.

So here I am. 8:46pm having finished a mug of lemon, honey & ginger, and a brief snapchat DM chat with Katie. I am ready to get into what I thought up this morning, which is to get some thoughts/ feels from the girl gang regarding life at this current point in time. I’m super thankful for the different adventures (or lack there-of 4 me rip study liiiifeeee) we are on, and I wanna try and catch a glimpse of where we are all at.

4 girls, 3 questions, 2 diff continents, 1 blog post…. let’s do iittttt!

From top left to bottom right: Katie, Becca, Beth, Becky. 

  1. What does a regular day look like for you at the moment? Becky/ Wake up sometime between 7/7:30am / find a cool outfit / do some minimal effort makeup / leave a little late for class / struggle to find a park for cheap, end up paying $4.50 / walk to class with beats pumping through my headphones / arrive to class just on time / sit through lectures / GET COFFEE / sit through more lectures and learn things / become wiser / finish class / (optional depending on time) go to supreme and drink MORE COFFEE whilst studying and get distracted by conversation and caffeine and people watching / go to work – nannying – spend a few hours convincing the boys not to go on their devices, maybe skate, maybe play cards, reflect on the fact it makes me feel like a ‘cool mom’ at the age of 21 / go home around 5:30 / (optional depending on mood) have low-key stress moment about the struggle of student life / eat dins / chat to flatties / study / sleep 11/12pm (way too late normally) Katie/ A regular day for me looks like waking up before 8, eating a bowl of granola out of garish blue bowls with neon pink spoons. I am hustled out of the door for a solid few hours of walking and making new blisters. Lunches are bought from grocery stores and I’m always packing a nakd bar. Accents and languages are always swirling around and into my ears, and I struggle to always take in what’s around me. We’ll arrive back home almost always after 7, where I pretty much zone out on wifi as everyone back home is usually waking up. Then it’s scavenging a dinner, and into our beds for the night- whether it be 4 of us in one room in a hot house in York, or separate rooms in a fancy apartment in Old Town Poland Becca/ Walking aimlessly along streets which contain so much history it’s hard to believe my present location. Everything I see is a new discovery and broadens my view and understanding of the world. Hours of walking, reading, seeing and trying new food jammed between late morning starts and late nights ending the day. Beth/ Wake up at 7:30, to light streaming through the window. Reminding me it’s turning into Summer. Then I get ready and head down three flights of stairs. Out of the Boarding house and across the road to the Prep School. It’s a nice walk through a gate. Where I am met by a hive of busyness as it’s drop off time. I then sit down at my desk and crack on with the morning routine. Doing the registers, answering emails, completing the projects I have been assigned to do etc and often having a good laugh to try ease off the intense, high pressure environment it can sometimes be. Then I leave at 1pm and head over the road. At the moment I’ve been grabbing a roll from the Canteen as a hot meal just does not seem appetising when it is so lovely and warm. I then will often go for a walk, with a friend or like today just me. Being around people all day can get tiring so lunch is definitely my refueling time. But I’ll let you in on a secret, sometimes I just go for a 40 minute nap. Then I head over the music department where I work in a department with nearly 30 music teachers. It’s a pretty cool department to work for. They have head of piano, percussion, brass, woodwind and even have a harp teacher! Definitely jazzes up the day a bit… Obviously my humour has deteriorated whilst being over here. Then at 4pm I go into the safe, grab the float and head up to the cafe where I serve the senior and Prep girls after school. Then at 6 I shut up the cafe head down stairs and sometimes I may go for a walk before dinner at 6:40pm, or the gym or sometimes just chill. Monday and Tuesdays I also do boarding duties in the evening – so some days seem very long. But I love my job! Which may sound crazy but I really do. It’s a perfect mixture or organisation, communication and creativity.

2. Can you describe a place or moment in the past week that has been memorable for you? Becky/ The other night the Romanian traveller who has been staying at our flat for a couple of weeks left to go back to the UK! He was occupying one of our lounge spaces we call the ‘Jesus lounge’ b/c it has a massive tapestry of the last supper I got at a school fair for $15 (um… score), SO me and a few flatties decided to go hundies and give the Jesus lounge the real ‘extreme makeover home edition’ treatment. Moved things around, created a vibey study/ chill/ have ya mates round/ play piano atmosphere. And then we stewed apples from our garden for an apple crumble and reflected on our hard work. THEN home reno 2.0 we made a little harry potter type bed space under the stairs for couch surfers and pals to rest their heads when they stay. I love my flat, always memorable moments here. Katie/ The train took us through uptown Berlin and into the East where graffiti covered the apartments like necessary paint. We ventured north, weaving in between market stalls with Ice cream in our hands, and yellow faded houses in a row leading up to the palace and her gardens- gardens full of bicycles lying idly against trees, whilst their owners lazed upon picnic blankets with books in their hands and berries by their side. Late afternoon in Germany, by the river, in summer. Becca/ Knowing you have family in Poland but never thinking you would actually have the opportunity to meet them and spend time with them but then getting to do just that. Laying my eyes on European architecture while walking around with family who I’ve just met but feel so close to. Beth/ A place or moment in the past week.. Hmm. Maybe the walk at lunch today? It was so beautiful. Everything was blooming and so full of life. In comparison to how bare the trees were in the wintery months when I first arrived here, it is for sure one of the many things I will miss about England when I return at the end of the year. Or maybe another memorable moment would be when all us gap students went out the other night and I found myself singing ‘Mr Brightside’ at 2am with some of my best friends over here and just thinking about how much my little sister back home loves this song. I was reminded how music can close the distance between people, or make you feel even further away. It’s powerful stuff music even at 2am it can remind you of people, connect you to people and help you communicate with people.

3. Where does your heart feel most at rest in this current season of life? Becky/ At the moment I am in a bit of a ‘how do I rest effectively’ type headspace. So even though I posed this question… it’s a tough one. I suppose whenever I’m spending time with Jesus I feel that rest. Ooooooo so cheesy hey? But it’s just sweet that amidst the chaos of life, I have this access to such immense peace and restoration. I’m trying to dig into that place more, and learn how to steady my heart instead of propelling myself full force into every situation. It’s cool to rest, people don’t do it enough.  Katie/ My heart feels most at rest when I escape the city and can find a place that gives me perspective. I’m moving around so often right now that being able to wrap my head around it all is impossible to do from street view. When I was in England, we tripped to the Lake District and I climbed a waterfall and just sat. Everything was peaceful and nothing was disturbed, there was just miles and miles of hills and valleys and little rivers lined by pines. Perspective. Here in Germany, our room is on the 5th floor and from it I can see church steeples, and the tops of apartment buildings…even into the rooms of those opposite us

it’s a sweet lil refuge above the loud traffic and Turkish bars below. finding time to have to yourself is super important when traveling with a bunch of other people, and so when I can grab a spot above the busyness, and just let my mind work out all it’s anxieties, I can find peace and stillness and rest. Becca/ The incredible opportunity to travel the world doesn’t come around for many which makes my experience more valuable. I feel freedom when travelling and the chance to see how other humans work in their environment and culture is so informative and inspiring. Places are so diverse but then you remind yourself they are just humans like us in another location of this world. Visiting these countries has encouraged me and given me excitement to step out more in the future. That puts my heart at ease knowing that there is so much possibility and freedom. I get to know this world better and be impacted by its differences and beauty. Beth/ It’s funny, because so much change has happened in the past month, that I would expect myself to feel unsettled. But I feel far from that. I feel the most settled I have felt in months. I am on the other side of the world, in what was once such a foreign place, but this now feels more and more as every day passes like home. I am understanding now that typical saying ‘Home is where the heart is’ because it is now that I have fully come to terms with the fact that my heart is here, that I am here in England. That I feel at rest, settled and at home. I have incredible friends here, an incredible work place, and incredible opportunities. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss home – I do, but it means that I am learning to begin to grow in this new plant pot. I’m learning that I was literally uprooted from the plant pot I was in a home, and I am now in a larger one. Learning and being taught how to grow my roots deep. I am learning to focus on the growth and the changing seasons here and not try to place myself back in the pot I left behind. I think that’s where my heart has found rest recently. I’ve stopped trying to get back in the smaller pot; where there was comfortability and stability. However, I’m learning that in order to be at peace whilst over here I need to live in the present on my gap year, to live in the here and now and really live; embracing every surrounding, and new thing that appears and be open to the growth and change and the deepening of my roots that is occurring.

.

Thanks for reading, I hope whatever stage of life you’re currently in- whether that be adventurous or seemingly mundane.. that this blog post is gives you a little boost to keep at it and find rest amongst the adventure, and joy amidst the regular daily grind.

B. x

‘oh the places you’ll go…’ B here, 9:34am/  in class distracted by the pictures and snapchats from my closest pals who are scattered across this big wide world.