#hi folks i have a lot of strong feelings about fat politics

[teamjlry]

Neon: "I wasn't trying to say you should go on a diet, I was saying you really need to go on a diet!"

[batshitferalejsimp]

My Particular EJ Headcanons!!

(I don't have a particular last name or nothing decided, like I've seen some of the cool folk coming up with)

Minors DNI

My eyeless jack is big, VERY BIG, like brick shithouse big, he's 6ft8, and very large and very muscular. I wouldn't say he's shredded, though. He's got like an off-season body builder or power lifter build, with like a healthy layer of fat over it. He's very gifted in the chest department✨️

In my mind, he was a Russian transfer student, studying over in America for his medical degree, feeling a bit isolated due to the lack of peers and friends, and that's when the cult snatched him up.

His voice is usually even and calm, but when he's pissed off, it gets almost layered... but not quite, and it's just off.

He has a bit of an accent (think Nikto from COD), and couldn't care less about hiding it.

He doesn't really care too much for being called EJ or Eyeless Jack. He prefers just being called Jack, but he won't really correct anyone on it because he doesn't care enough.

Over the years, he's set up some contacts through slenderman and has a somewhat successful career in the organ market. He also has a credit card and the like for when he needs to buy new supplies and whatever else he would need. He's probably one of the more put-together creeps, not that it says much about him.

He moves so quietly that it's actually scary, like you turn around and suddenly he's behind you, just watching.

He does a lot of watching and staring and has a habit of tilting his head when confused or trying to investigate things.

He can eat things other than kidneys or just human flesh. He just NEEDS human flesh fairly regularly and will start talking/mumbling to himself, getting aggressive and violent if he goes too long without human flesh, until he snaps and attacks the nearest human, no matter who they are. It usually takes 2-3 days for symptoms to start showing, and he keeps himself well fed, so it isn't usually an issue.

He sometimes hums to himself while working.

Believe it or not, he does sometimes go out in public, especially during and since the pandemic, wearing a mask and sunglasses with a hoodie, isn't suspicious if he pays, acts polite and doesn't act an ass. He can't go out and about as easily as jeff can, though.

He's very clean and sanitary, and oftentimes, if it can be helped, he doesn't kill his victims. He keeps his space clean.

If he needs to get organs, he usually targets men or criminals. He's not fond of harming women and children(he will if he MUST, but he won't be happy about it. )

His morality and emotions are somewhat dulled and disconnected from him.

He can see, and he can see quite well. However, he can't look around without turning his head. He can't side eye as much as he would like to with some of the shit that goes on in the mansion.

He can cook, and he's decent at it, but he usually doesn't because he can eat his food raw and the rest of the people in the mansion are assholes.

He's often getting stuck in fights with Jeff due to Jeff wanting a fight and knowing just how to make EJ fight him. EJ doesn't enjoy this but wins 60-70% of the time.

He enjoys going on walks or reading in his free time, watching a good amount of documentaries, and trying to stay on top of the lastest medical science.

He drinks and smokes, and he can get drunk, but cigarettes do not affect his lungs at all. Which disappointed him when he found out...

He has a strong sense of smell, and when he smells something he doesn't like, his face scrunches up visibly like a cat. It happens a lot around the other creeps in the mansion, particularly Toby.

He sometimes gets like mini zoomies, but he usually just goes out for a run and comes back when he's done.

He sleeps on his stomach or his back depending on how safe he feels, but he never really sleeps on his side unless there's someone else in the bed.

He eats A LOT, often times raw meat(think cow, deer, pig or chicke), he's large and does a lot of moving around and exercise, so he definitely EATS

[ppersonna]

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother.  He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin.  angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are.  i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia​ so i blame her.  as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes.  fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao  🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy!  feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you! 

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word.  Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no.  He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon.   Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second.  Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since.  Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line.  Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin.   He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.  

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter.  Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension.  All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.  

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever.  Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime.  You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most.  You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch.  Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows.  It takes a moment to gather your surroundings.  You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there.  As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time.  5:34 pm.  Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix.  How had you fallen asleep for five hours?  How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it.   You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles.  Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung.  Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each.  Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.”  He pushes past you and into the living room.  

Your mouth gapes open.  Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this.  Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure.  “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff.  “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam?  What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado.  “Obviously not anymore.  We broke up, she kept the apartment.  Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps?  You clear your throat.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen.  “No, you’re not.”  

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother.  He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat.  The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn.  Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone.  You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon.  It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever.  What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping.  God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on.  I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone.  “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night.  It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple.  Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom.  The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room.  You’re not getting out of this.  I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.  

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon.  Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed.  “I agree to your terms.  Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time.  6:40.  God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready.  There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already?  We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table.  He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement.  “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower.  That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds.  We’ll be waiting awhile.”  

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants.  You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage.  Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.”  Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face.  “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face.  Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”  

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening.  You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth.  Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone.  And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin.  You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas.  He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.  

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.”  Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory.  Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other.  Feels like old times.  Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room.  The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life.  Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv.  Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.  

Why did he do it?  You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.  Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off.  He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”  

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing.  Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.  

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now.  Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again.  While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow.  You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep.  If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved.  But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems.  You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught.  You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable.  You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day.  Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol.  Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  A nightcap. Of course.  You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.  

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.  Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house.  You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate.  It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge.  You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house.  You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.  

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile.  Liquid sleep.  And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder.  Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired.  “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls.  The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.  

“Fucking help me!  You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything.  You did that on your own.”  Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent.  He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?”  You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him.  It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you.  “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there.  You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush.  He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks.  “We talked about that.  Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.  

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own.  He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.”  His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.  

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle.  “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan.  “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”  

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth.  He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more.  His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple.  “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs.  You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused.  His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure.  He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath.  “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free.  Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.  

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.”  He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts.  You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”  

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime.  You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.”  Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut.  Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.”  His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.  

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat.  You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his.  Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life.  You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet.  My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you.  Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!”  You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.  

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”  He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you.  He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix.  This is surely what heaven feels like.  It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity.  He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung!  You!  Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks.  He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.  

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises.  “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”  

“Yeah baby, cum for me.  Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down.  Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry.  You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words.  You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please.  Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.”  You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash.  He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY!  Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[forlove2020]

Day 2 - No Vacancy

It is the last day of November and no one wants to buy any more pumpkins. 

Halloween has gone by, and Thanksgiving has blown past too. The people of Lebanon, Kansas have had their fill of the bright orange gourds - for more than two months they've displayed them on their front porches, carved them into jack-o-lanterns, and added them into every kind of dessert and frothy little drink imaginable.

And that is why, on November 30th, Dean decides his family is going on a field trip to the Lebanon Corn Maze and Pumpkin Patch.

Things have been good lately. No, scratch that. Life has been freakin' awesome. It has been just under two weeks since he rescued Cas from the Empty and a week since Jack came home. Dean is over the moon; radiating happiness in a way he never has before. They're all together, alive, and no Big Bad hovers menacingly on the horizon. Dean's not one to believe in a 'best case scenario,' but hell if this doesn't feel just like it.

The farm is about a twenty-five minute drive from the Bunker, and Dean, Cas, and Jack pull up in the Impala at the same time as Sam and Eileen arrive in Sam's CR-V. 

(Dean had teased him mercilessly about his new ride until Sam looked him dead in the eye, placing his hand protectively on Eileen's protruding belly, and insisted "Honda gets really good safety ratings, Dean." Dean, wisely, had shut up after that.)

Claire and Kaia are already there waiting, leaning up against Claire’s car, hand in hand. Jack leaps out of Baby as soon as Dean puts her in park, barreling toward the girls so he can nag Claire about his latest obsession: TikTok. Even from a distance it’s clear she’s rolling her eyes at him, but smiling despite herself

Dean and Cas get out of the car at a more leisurely pace and survey their surroundings.

What had been a busy festival complete with a lush corn maze, vibrant pumpkin patch, and stalls selling kettle corn and caramel apples two months ago is now a dismal scene. The corn maze has dried out and shriveled up, and the stalls are unmanned. Technically, there are still pumpkins aplenty in the field, but they're the ones that have been forsaken. The remaining pumpkins are leftovers that were considered either too skinny, too fat, or just too misshapen and lumpy to have been picked as the cream-of-the-crop.

Dean looks over at Cas. He’s squinting at the scenery in the dim autumn sunlight, and the nippy breeze has swept through his dark hair, making it seem more tousled than usual. Not for the first time, Dean thinks that he is gorgeous.

But now, he can actually tell Cas what he is feeling in these moments. There are no more half-truths or lies between them, nothing secret. After years of pining for one another without any hope of reciprocation and hiding the pains of longing, they’ve finally broken down the walls that kept them apart. They love one another fiercely, and while their relationship is new, it is not tenuous. 

So, Dean turns to him with a crooked grin.  “Hey, handsome.”

Cas blinks, and then a little smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean moves closer until their shoulders are brushing and he can feel the warmth of Cas’ body through both of their jackets. “You think Jack’s gonna be disappointed?” he asks quietly, watching their kid practically tackle Sam with a hug as Eileen signs something Dean can’t quite make out from the other end of the parking lot. “I mean, this isn’t exactly the ‘autumn glory’ we were promised on those fliers earlier this month.”

Cas doesn’t even hesitate. “No. I think Jack just appreciates having a normal...uh, sort of a normal life again. He’s excited to be here picking pumpkins, especially with Claire and Kaia, and Sam and Eileen joining us. This was a nice surprise you planned for him, Dean.”

It’s a simple compliment, and not even particularly saccharine, but Dean flushes from head to toe anyway. He’s working on believing the good things Cas says about him; he’s really trying, but it’s always been difficult for him to take a compliment about anything other than his good looks or hunting prowess. Instead, he meets Cas’ eye, and nods silently. And then, remembering he is allowed, takes Cas’ hand in his own, twining their fingers together.

They walk hand-in-hand to join Claire, Kaia, Jack, Sam and Eileen at the front gate. It’s hanging wide open, and no one is standing there to charge them an entrance fee. However, the sign does make a point to state that the maze is open until December 1st. Eileen shrugs, and so the seven of them wander down the path towards the pumpkin patch and the entrance to the maze. 

“Kaia! I’ll race you to the end!” Jack shouts, and laughing, Kaia chases him into the maze, dragging a grumbling Claire along behind her. 

“Let’s see if we can find anybody still working,” Sam suggests.

Eileen points at a worn down farmhouse tucked mostly behind a newly-painted red barn. “Someone must be home,” she signs pointedly, gesturing to plumes of smoke exuding from a grey chimney stack.

Dean ends up knocking on the door. He leaves Sam, Eileen, and Cas at a nearby picnic table, debating in Sign Language about the best flavor of cotton candy and whether or not the color of the dye changes the taste. 

 A minute or two later, an older man swings open the squeaky screen door to the house. He’s scowling, wearing muddy overalls, and chewing on a thick cigar. “Yeah?” he asks shortly. “Whaddya want?”

Dean raises his eyebrows at the farmer’s bluntness, but manages to respond politely. “My family and I saw fliers for this place a few weeks ago. We were hoping to buy some pumpkins and candy apples. What are you charging”

The farmer’s scowl grows deeper, and he looks past Dean to Sam, Eileen, and Cas relaxing on the bench, then narrows his eyes at the corn maze, where shrieks of laughter can be heard as the younger adults chase one another through the thinning stalks.

Getting impatient, with the man’s surly silence, Dean prods, “And…? It’s a yes or no question. Are you still selling pumpkins?”

The old man pulls the cigar out from between his teeth. “My wife and daughter run this hokey shit,” he grunts. “They went into town today ‘cause folks already came through here earlier in the month. They like customers. We haven't had anybody else stop by since before Thanksgiving.”

As his temper flares, Dean turns his grit teeth into a sharp smile. “Well, then it’s your lucky day! Here we are,” he says mockingly, sweeping his arms wide. The farmer mumbles something insulting and covers it with a hacking cough. Dean pretends not to hear him, “Fine. I take it from your sunny attitude that there will be no popcorn or apples today?” 

The man scoffs, “Enjoy the maze, boy-o. Free of charge.” He turns to lumber back inside, but Dean grabs the screen door before he can try to disappear.

“Hey!” the hunter barks. The farmer pauses, his body tensing for a fight. “Are you gonna sell me the goddamn pumpkins or not?” 

Cas has wandered to his side, either noticing the commotion, or simply because he wanted to be closer to Dean. Now, he interrupts casually, “You still have quite a few squash left in the fields and there’s going to be heavy frost two days from now, overnight. It’d be a shame if all of these pumpkins rotted, and you wasted the rest of your harvest.”

He has, quite deftly, snared the salty old farmer’s attention. Money is the man’s language; he might not enjoy having customers on his property so late in the season, but he certainly likes having the funds to maintain his land.

****************************************

“A hundred.”

“A hundred?” Sam sounds insulted. “You’re gonna pitch all of these in a couple days. There’s no way we’re paying a hundred. Try twenty-five dollars.”

The farmer rolls his eyes dramatically. He is in his element; the thrill of making a good deal and bartering his wares on the last day is an unexpected but welcome surprise that has put him in high spirits. “You’re cute, kid. I know my produce is worth more than that. I’ll go down to eighty-five, and you can take whatever you can carry in one trip.”

“Thirty-five,” Sam shoots back.

“Eighty.”

“Forty-one.” Once, Sam was going to be a lawyer. He’s got the upper hand in this situation and he’s going to crush his opposition. One more price reduction and they’ll have dozens of pumpkins to take home, way below the original asking price.

“Sevent…”

“Sixty-five, and we fill up all of our cars,” Dean interrupts, and Sam looks at him, utterly betrayed as the gleeful farmer shakes on the deal.

As Cas, Jack, Claire, and Kaia help carry the pumpkins to Sam and Claire’s cars respectively, Dean just claps Sam on the shoulder and tells his brother, “It’s still a cheaper family outing than going to Disney.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam says mournfully, and sulks over to help Eileen, who is supervising the influx of pumpkins that are being loaded into their vehicle.

Dean chuckles, and scoops up a few pumpkins. He’s got some recipes he wants to try out, plus he’s excited to teach Jack to carve ‘Jack’-o-lanterns. The kid seemed to want to learn how to do everything the human way now, and Dean is more than happy to teach him.

One by one, Dean places eight pumpkins in the backseat of Baby. One is tall and oblong with lots of stringy stems, matched with the only short and well rounded pumpkin he sees in the field. Between those two he sets a teeny tiny baby-sized pumpkin. Then, there’s a pumpkin that is half-green half-orange. It seems like it must have grown too fast because it is still quite young despite its size. Next, he adds two medium pumpkins that are also young, but growing strong. And last but not least, he picks up two more pumpkins. They are both a bit damaged - one is bruised and discolored, the other looks like it might have grown sideways. But Dean picks them because they lean against one another in the field, steady despite their flaws, despite what they’ve been through. 

He sets them all up in a long line along the backseat, and when Cas sees what he chose, his eyes go soft and warm as he looks at Dean.

“Let’s go home,” he breathes out, and takes Dean’s hand again.

Everyone gets in their cars - Dean in the driver's seat and Cas taking shotgun, as before. Jack tries to get in the Impala, then looks in the back window, and starts laughing. 

“Dean! There’s nowhere for me to sit.”

Cas chuckles quietly beside him, as Dean grins. “Aw, tough break, kid. Guess you’re walking home.”

“Hey, no fair- Dean! C’mon! Cas! Tell Dean he has to -”

Dean starts to roll up the window, laughing loudly as Jack knocks on the window pane.

“Sorry! No vacancy!” he hollers. Jack is nearly doubled over, hilarity spilling from him in peals of laughter.

Claire honks her horn loudly, and throws open the back door to her car. Jack straightens, and scrambles to join her and Kaia, shooting Dean and Cas a bright wave goodbye.

Sam and Eileen also wave as they leave the parking lot, wheels sending gravel spinning in their wake. Claire and Kaia follow, and Jack rolls down the window as they pass, and calls across to Cas and Dean, “This was the best family trip ever!”

They too are soon gone, headed for the Bunker to drop off dozens of pumpkins which will decorate every room until they end up decaying or until Dean cooks them. 

Dean and Cas wait until the others have left, and then Dean leans over and kisses Cas, long and sweet. When he pulls back, Cas traces his cheek, and says thoughtfully, “We could take the backroads home today….”

Dean is so gone on him. He kisses Cas once, twice more, and then puts the Impala in drive, and they’re on the road, taking the long way home.

**********************************

I enjoyed adding a little Day 1 ‘Harvest’ flare to Day 2!

My goal is to make most of my Suptober fics one-shots that are in some way related to my multichapter fix-it that is still a work in progress (Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, etc, post 15x20).

Thank you for reading!

-V

[pyrrhesia]

FF14 Writes - Speculate

In which Cwenthryth Sadler submits her notice.

It hadn't taken long for the lustre of that bright blue coat to fade. Cwenthryth cursed herself. She'd fallen in love with words. She'd embraced ideas. First time in her life. Hopefully the last time, too. But she'd briefly been doing a good thing. Being a God-killer for the Scions was one thing, but this... ? She could have made a difference here. Could have brought order to the world, one little slice at a time. Could've built some shit, for once. She'd had the chance, but it had slipped through her fingers like water. This hapless Gridanian lad had weaved through Ul'dahn streets with all the comfort of a cat on the rim of a full bath, every effort at stealth only making him more and more conspicuous. Cwenthryth had watched and waited as he'd talked furtively with a man she recognised as a lesser light of the Monetarists, a middleman. Her ears pricked up at the mention of troop movements, crystals... The contact slipped away. The Gridanian sauntered off, tossing a fat coin-pouch from hand-to-hand, without a care in the world until Cwenthryth landed on him knee-first. She hauled the stunned elezen to his feet, threw him against the wall. Asked him a few friendly questions. When they'd been answered to her satisfaction, she pulled his own dagger out of his belt and drove it hard through his hand, pinning it to the wall, and wandered off with his bribe in her hand, tuning out his screams. For eight entire hours, she'd felt good about herself. A couple of times, she'd even smiled. She squandered a few gil at the Quicksand, meandered back to her place, which was to say her partner's place, and stumbled on a squad of five braves. Sergeant Corentin Wanted A Chat. There was now a lucrative new opportunity in the Braves. They needed a new bagman. That was going to be Cwenthryth. Or: she could refuse, and her body would be found in an alley. Or: she could double-cross them, and, well, they knew where Aislona lived. Cwenthryth sighed. She knew the drill. It was the same as it ever was.

A month had passed. Shorn of more conventional red flags - lack of communication? Dour demeanour? That was just life as usual - Cwenthryth was drinking heavily. She felt someone sit down next to her at the bar. "We've met before, right? I mean, before all this." She glanced across, and didn't bother to stifle a groan. "That kid from Little Ala Mhigo. I shot your mate in the guts." Wilred didn't have an answer to that. Oh, well... Cwenthryth tried, gamely, to be sociable. "He live?" "Oh, aye. Uh." "Yeah, good." Cwenthryth tried to turn back to her drink, but felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, and instinctively her hand dropped to her dagger. But Wilred's eyes were bright. "We ought to talk," he said. "Outside. Meet me there in an hour." "What about?" But he'd already left.

She was punctual. He'd been waiting, and looked keen. Cwenthryth hoped for his sake he hadn't just been loitering eagerly the entire time. "Let's walk," she said. "You clearly got something on your mind." It would have been easier in Ul'dah. You could easily weave through streets away from prying eyes. Revenant's Toll was a glorified crossroads, and the best they could do was loiter conspicuously in the shadow of the fortifications. "Well?" "I've... got suspicions about how some of the Braves are acting." "Mm." "I think maybe some of them are taking bribes." He waited for a reaction, seemed surprised when it didn't come. "From the Monetarists!" "Yeah, they do a lot of bribing." Cwenthryth cocked her head. "Why me?" But she had a sinking feeling she knew the answer... Wilred grinned uncertainly. "Why... ? You must know why, Cwenthryth! We're Rhalgr's folk! Strong and proud, too proud to stand for this--" She struck him across the face with a violence that surprised herself, drove him against the wall with her forearm. "I am not like you!" she snapped, spraying him with spit. "I don't have a damn to give for Ala Mhigo, I left it behind when I was six, but I remember this much, it wasn't the bloody promised land, it was just soil and sky. You really surprised the 'Braves' are taking bribes? Gods know I was, Gods only know how I was. It's just any group of thugs." Wilred was no coward. He met her eye to eye. "That ain't how it should be," he said, with the quiet confidence of complete conviction. "Yeah. Maybe not." Cwen eased her pressure. "But we don't get to decide that. No ideals from here. We just got to see tomorrow. Don't think, keep your head down, put one foot in front of the other. Or you'll get the deal I got." "And what did you decide?" "I'm alive. Guess." He shoved her aside. Something in the look he gave her stuck with her. Contempt, mixed with pity. From a bloody stripling! "Sometimes a man's got to make a stand," he said, and stalked off into the wastes. He'd learn, Cwenthryth thought. If he was lucky. He was not lucky. The next time Cwenthryth saw her, he was face-down in a swamp.

Corentin leaned on the doorframe to watch the theatre. "See, like I told you it'd be," he murmured out the side of his mouth. "Seamless. Told you the bosses had it figured out." Cwenthryth found it hard to watch, not quite sure why. People on the fringes were shocked, or smug, or whatever, but her eyes couldn't be drawn away from the sight of Raubahn Aldynn, beaten down and broken. Treacherously, her head filled in the gaps. 'Cause Wilred was wrong. Raubahn came here carrying his life on his back. Didn't slink off to reminisce in a cave, and lie to newborns about what they'd left behind. He made a life for himself, with his own two damn hands. That's my people. And I stood and watched as they put him on his knees. People were talking politics around him. Divvying up the wreckage of the night. "Ain't it good to be on the winning side, Sadler?" "Sure," she said, distracted. She was watching something else, something nobody else seemed to have their eyes on. As Teledji meandered closer, she saw Raubahn's muscles tense... And then there was screaming, as some parts of Teledji skidded across the floor towards her. The winners of the night pushed their way to the exit, throwing their luckless muscle into the centre. Corentin just laughed, like this was just an unexpected encore to the show. "Can't he tell when he's beaten?" "Sometimes," said Cwenthryth dully, "a man's got to make a stand." Corentin snorted. "Yeah? Where'd you read that, Cwenthryth? A gravestone?" In all the commotion, he didn't hear the silken sound of Cwenthryth pulling her dagger from its scabbard. By the time the hand was over his mouth, it was too late to scream. "I'll carve it on yours," she whispered, as she drew the blade across. When the thrashing subsided, Cwenthryth let his body fall. Nobody heard the soft crumple of limbs, or the sound of Cwen's coat, sodden with Corentin's blood, make a sickly squelch as it slipped off her shoulders to the floor. She dared one last look at the chamber; saw Teledji, saw the rest of Teledji, saw an example she couldn't shy from, and for a mad moment wanted to rush inside and die by Raubahn's side, but... No. She had more to live for, and more to make up for. She murmured a half-remembered prayer to Rhalgr, and slipped into the shadows.

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area: Chapter Three

Previous chapter HERE

Warning: Not explicit (yet); some mild language.

Summary: 29-year-old nurse Sarah Bernette has worked hard to get where she is. Moving to Boston from a nowhere dump of a town, she’s studied hard and is grateful her stress is finally paying off. Despite being fostered repeatedly throughout her childhood, she’s since found some comfort in the form of her adopted parents, Jocelyn and Noah, and a pseudo-adoptive family of sorts in form of the Evans clan who have treated her as one of her own ever since she moved in with best friend, Shanna. Valuing them above all else, she appreciates their support even more when her long lost birth mother decides to reappear in her life after so many years, and is surprised to find out just how supportive Chris is in particular. As she struggles to maintain a firm grip on both her professional and private lives, she finds an ill-advised solace in her growing mutual attraction with him but how long before everything unravels and threatens to pull the rug out from underneath her?

Note: I apologise for my spelling/grammar errors.

CHAPTER THREE

“So, completely, out of the blue, just like that, she’s asked the courts to intervene to ask you to meet her?”

Sarah was sat with Audrey on their break at Joe’s across the street from the ER. It was a favourite haunt of theirs; it was cheap but the coffee was always strong, always hot, and the waffles were to die for. Plus, the chef was so supportive of staff, he would insist on giving them double the amount of toppings. Sarah contemplated using them as wedding caterers should it ever some to that. The location also gave them the added bonus of being far enough away from their work that they felt like it gave them a decent break when they could eventually find a spare 5 minutes, and clandestine enough that they could freely complain about the latest regulations imposed upon them by O’ Brien, the Ward Co-ordinator, and his questionable personal hygiene.

“Fuck me, the nerve.” Audrey shook her head in bewilderment. “You’d think she’d have taken the hint the first time around.”

“Well, there’s always the possibility she thought her letters might not have reached me and now she’s just trying to cover her bases.” Sarah suggested, taking another drink of her piping hot coffee and feeling course through her body, a comforting warmth for the first time that day. She was struck in that moment by her own empathy for this woman. She wasn’t sure what it meant.

“Don’t go making excuses for her. It’s arrogant is what it is, paying for some fancy lawyer to do her bidding. If she wanted to do right by you, she would have responded all those years ago when it was you reaching out to her. Don’t you take pity on her now. You have to make it clear to them, the lawyers or whoever the fuck this is, that you’re happy, you’re in a good place, and you have all the fucking family you need,” Audrey emphasised each point by stabbing her finger on the table. “You need whatever bullshit she is selling.”

Rarely did Audrey mince her words. She could be relied on to tell you straight exactly what she thought and at several times during their friendship, Sarah counted her blessings that she was on the right side of her. 

“Yes, yeh, of course.” she lied. Perhaps lied. She wasn’t sure what she was thinking in that moment. At various times during the days since she had received the notice, she’s swung back and forth between rejecting their request outright or taking the opportunity to see what she was like in the flesh, to see whether she was anything like she had pictured in her mind. Just to satisfy her curiosity at least. Shan suggested they should arrange to meet her and perform some sort of “drive by” and run away at the last minute. As more and more time went by, Sarah found herself warming to that suggestion.

“What do your folks think about it?” Audrey asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t told them about it yet. They’re in town next weekend so I’ll wait and tell them in person I think.”

Audrey nodded in understanding, pouring them what was left of their coffee pot. “I take it you’ve told Shan about this?”

“Yeh but we don’t get a lot of time to discuss things at the moment. More like passing ships in the night.”

“Oh right, I forgot. Cap’s back. How is it going? Is he still hanging out at yours?”

Sarah nodded and watching Audrey’s eyes light up, looking giddier than she’d ever seen before.

“How is he looking? Like, abs wise? I bet there isn’t an inch of fat on him. I bet he walks around in his towel, all wet after a shower. Still buff as hell, right?” She flashed Sarah the naughtiest smile she could muster. She swore Audrey was imagining him right at this very minute.

“Can I remind you that you have a very real and very lovely husband at home?” Sarah playfully jabbed her friend with her fork.

“Don’t tell mer you haven’t noticed.”

“How do you expect me to answer that?” Sarah protested, her voice reaching a little too high for her liking and she could sense Audrey’s doubt in her declaration. “For your information, I haven’t really spoken to him much since he got back.”

“Y’know, I like my husband a normal amount but if I was single and living in close proximity to that, I’d be all over that shit.”

Funnily enough, Sarah didn’t doubt that for a second. She’d seen up close and personal her flirtatious remarks to him after she’d been forced into introductin them some years earlier. She marvelled at how shy she’d become when she was typically so verbose and confident. Things progressed quite quickly that evening thanks to the shots he kept pouring for them and the arm she kept draped across his wide shoulders, practically sat in his lap. He wasn’t complaining one bit. She recalled fond memories of a random video recorded on Audrey’s phone that was meant to be a ‘Happy Birthday’ message to Michael but instead became an example of what not to show your husband when hanging out with an A-List Movie Star. Aside from the occasional political rant and last night’s episode of Jimmy Fallon, Chris was often Audrey’s favourite topic of conversation when he was in town.

“You know why he does that.” Audrey hinted before taking the last few bites of her waffles, feigning innocence.

Sarah knew where this train was going and was keen to stop it before it derailed and killed innocent passengers. “We need to get back. I have an x-ray to collect and you have a bladder irrigation in cubicle two.” Audrey’s shoulders dropped and she grimaced at the thought.

As they were heading back, they narrowly avoided colliding with Greg seemingly leaving for the day. Sarah would soon regret her jibes as Audrey made an unmistakably loud call-out in his direction. He may have just about escaped her clutches but turned to swagger his way back towards them, grinning widely.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” He asked coolly, and to his credit he seemed genuinely interested. Sarah had thought he only reserved that kind of over-interest for consultants who might be able to further his career but perhaps she’d been too quick to judge him after all.

“Yeh, it’s going really well, thanks. How are you? You finished for the day?”

Sarah inwardly groaned. Audrey was going somewhere with this.

“Just heading home to get changed and then probably just head for the gym, I think. Might try and get a game of tennis in if I can.” He held up his bag to indicate his racket was inside. Sarah saw the label for YSL.

“Oh, you play tennis? How funny! So does Sarah!” Sarah figured she might have played twice in her entire life and one of those occasions ended in her swearing never again to pick up a racket. “Oh my god, Sarah, can you believe this? Such a small world. Sarah was the team at her college in fact.”

How could Greg not notice the insincerity?

“Really? Hey, y’know, if you’re free sometime, I’d love to have a match or two,” he smiled widely at Sarah as she died a little inside. “I haven’t managed to find anyone here who plays yet so it would be good to make a friend at least.”

Sarah spotted the earnestness in his eyes and almost felt a little sorry for him. Nevertheless, she nodded along in the hopes of ending the conversation as quickly as possible so she could get inside and stab Audrey with a scalpel. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Greg. He was perfectly nice, very ambitious with the intelligence to match, and even under the harsh lights of the Ambulance Bay, he was clearly a very attractive man; all height, with not a hair out of place. It was more her issue than his. According to Audrey, she was unsure of herself around overly good-looking men. Audrey first pointed this out to her when they were on a night out. She said a lack of self-esteem somewhere inside her meant that she automatically wrote herself off whenever it came to guys she deemed herself to be unworthy of. Then Audrey - and she may have been drunk at this point, Sarah couldn’t quite remember herself - insisted on writing out a list of pros that started with green eyes and ended with her “impressive butt”. She laughed when Audrey told her that she somehow made scrubs look fashionable and not dowdy, and that she should treat herself once in a while to an item of clothing that wasn’t a hoodie or a pair of jeggings.

“Well, I’m sure that could be arranged,” Audrey winked at him, and Greg seemed agreeable to that idea. “You’re not doing anything tomorrow night, are you Sarah?”

“Um,” she really tried hard to wrack her brains but came up short. “No, not that I can think of right at this moment.”

“Well, great, maybe meet you at Roxbury Gym tomorrow night? I have a membership that lets me bring friends and family so there’d be no problem.”

Of course he did.

“Er, yes, OK. Sounds good. Just don’t go hoping for Open standard or anything. It’s been some time since I played.” She directed that last comment squarely at Audrey who had never looked prouder of her work. Greg smiled at them again and wished them both a good afternoon before backing away and heading to his car, his bag swung confidently over his shoulder.

“Wow, thank you.” Sarah said sarcastically.

“Hey, you can thank me later, sugar.”

*

It was just after eight when she got home. Shan was working late so Chris had texted her to ask if she wanted to share a pizza that evening and she’d agreed like it was the greatest idea in the world. It was actually paying off now that Chris was there most of the time; if he wasn’t keeping the fridge stocked with beer and various groceries, she’d found him hoovering the hallway the day before, apropos of nothing.

He wasn’t immediately present when she entered the apartment. She dumped her bag by the door and collected some post from the side table Shan had left for her.  The TV was on low on C-Span and she spied two scripts on the coffee table, one looking vaguely Marvel-ish. She dare not look at it in case there was a microdot inbred into every page that would alert them to intruders touching the paper. Or it was fingerprint-sensitive. Also, she genuinely wanted to be surprised when she would inevitably see it at the cinema. She’d been invited to a premiere on one occasion and Chris found it both hilarious and endearing that she turned him down, preferring to see it in a packed screening with honest movie fans instead of critics with annoying lights at the end of their pens. She also didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of Mark Ruffalo but she kept that nugget to herself.

Just as she was heading towards the bathroom to wash up before dinner, Chris emerged from Shan’s bedroom, a towel slung low on his waist, a slight steam rising off his skin. Sarah couldn’t stop the knowing laugh from escaping her.

“Ouch. Thanks.” Chris retorted.

“Oh no,” She realised how that sounded. “It wasn’t anything, y’know. Um, it wasn’t, um...” Sarah’s brain had stopped working and she became increasingly aware of time passing very slowly with Chris just staring at her. “I was talking to Audrey about something earlier and you just reminded me is all.”

“Oh, Audrey, nice. How is she?” That seemed to change his attention for the better, thankfully.

“Married.”

Chris snickered to himself. “Man, she loves you, y’know. You’re lucky. She seems like a good friend.”

“Yeh, I know. She’s great. Not many friends would work so hard on setting me up on a date.” Sarah had only intended to say that last part under her breath as she turned to head into the bathroom.

“A date?! You?”

It was evidently now Sarah’s turn to feel affronted. “Yes, me. Why so surprised?”

“Not surprised at all. Just. OK, yeh, surprised, but only a little bit. You always seem so quiet on that front. I actually can’t remember the last time you went on a date.”

“That’s not a helpful comment, Chris.”

“Daniel!” Chris clicked his fingers. “It was Daniel and he rode to work on a skateboard!” He was momentarily proud of his powers of recall until he noticed the look on Sarah’s face. “He was nice. He liked....stuff.”

Sarah couldn’t keep up the pretence any longer. “I remember he had an unnatural obsession with onion rings,” She laughed. ‘It took me forever to disinfect the place of the smell!”

Chris laughed heartily at the memory. “Well, I hope whoever this new guy is, he’s worthy of you.”

She was grateful for the nudge and he smiled back at her. “Pizza will be another 10 minutes I reckon, so be quick.”

Sarah shot him the finger guns in acknowledgement, regretted the finger guns, then closed the bathroom door behind her. She toyed with the idea of getting a shower but really, really wanted pizza before Chris had the opportunity to devour it. His appetite was truly off the charts when he wasn’t in training mode. She couldn’t quite believe what he could put away or where it ended up because it certainly made no difference to his physique.

As she re-emerged fresh and in a change of clothes, Chris was laying out the pizza and beers on the coffee table. She rarely ate anywhere other than at the kitchen table but Chris told her to live a little and relax. She followed the delicious smell of pepperoni and garlic bread and quickly gave in.

“So who’s the new guy?” Chris asked when they were both a couple of bites in.

“Just this guy from work. He’s new to Newton’s but only there for a few more weeks I think. Audrey is obsessed with setting me up with him. What?” She spotted Chris’ growing smirk stretch across his face. “Seriously, what is it?”

“So he’s not gonna be there for long? Never had you down as a hit-it-and-quit-it kind of girl before.” She could tell he was trying hard not to burst out laughing. 

“Great, so first I’m not dating at all and now I’m only interested in serious relationships?”

Chris held his hands up in protest. “There’s nothing wrong with that by the way! It works for me. If the girl is into it, even better.”

“It’s different for guys, though. You can get away with it because it’s assumed you’re naturally immature. For women, it’s like... we’re immoral or something.” She picked a large red pepper from her slice, placing it on her plate only for Chris to pick it back up again and add it to his. “The bar is held a lot higher for us, you have to admit.”

“Yes, perhaps. But there’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex without the pressure of asking yourself so many questions afterwards. You don’t have to see them again if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to learn their names. So long as it’s safe, just enjoy it for what it is. I don’t think there is anything immoral about that.” He shrugged.

Sarah smiled at him. “Is this what got you here?” She had only meant that as a passing joke but recent events had completely slipped her mind. Chris paused mid-bite unsure of how to respond. Sarah turned towards him fully prepared to apologise. “Mate, I’m-”

“Don’t worry about it. God knows, I deserve it.” He wiped his fingers with a napkin. “It was what it was.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if that was an admission of sorts and was unsure of how to respond. He could see the thoughts crossing through her mind and nodded slowly, wordlessly answering the question he wanted to ask but was too wary to do so. He hadn’t felt much like talking of late preferring the relative comfort found at the bottom of a beer bottle or glass of whisky. Scott, his friends, his sisters, everybody had worked out quickly enough that it was a topic he did not want to discuss. Everybody except his mom, that is. He readily acknowledged that he had been avoiding the conversation but also a growing awareness that his relationship with Jenny had been possibly symptomatic of something else he’d been trying to avoid of late: that he was getting older and had little understanding of what he wanted to do or where exactly he wanted to be. Sarah also didn’t want to put herself in a position his mother might be better suited towards. 

“It’s so stupid.” He shook his head, resigned. He took another deep breath before picking up his beer bottle contemplating taking a mouthful. “Things just got out of hand. It’s my own fault. I should have thought more first instead of running into things. You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“No, not at all.” She tried to sound as genuine as possible and he was grateful. She never thought he was an idiot. Naive maybe, but not an idiot. “I’ve know you long enough to know that you’re not a bad person. Plus, y’know, it takes two as they say. Look, I’m probably not the best person to advise on this kind of thing anyway.”

He seemed grateful for the brief assurance. “I think you’re better than you think you are.”

She attempted to change the subject. “So, you’re back filming next month?”

“Yeh, just for a few days hopefully.” He decided to follow her lead. “Then I’m free for a while. Should be easy enough.” He seemed to relax a little more physically at the thought of his impending freedom. The immense financial security meant he tended to take longer breaks between projects now, and he was a little fussier about the project when he did eventually choose to work again. “Shan said you folks were coming this weekend?”

“Next weekend now, but yeh. Looking forward to it. I haven’t really spoken to them much recently and Dad’s been so busy lately and Mom’s worrying about his blood pressure again so it’ll be good for him to switch off for a while. I was thinking of taking them to a photography exhibition in town.”

“Steve McCurry?” His eyes lit up exponentially at the name. “I’m dying to see that one. It’s a shame they don’t keep the studio open past nine now. That would’ve been ideal.” He scoffed and Sarah felt a sadness for him. Not so long ago, he’d had to leave his nephew’s school play halfway through and via a fire door when one of the parents insisted on joking with him loudly throughout the first fifteen minutes about whether he saw any acting talent on stage and then subsequently bugged him to play golf during an interval. It was hard for him to just go out and enjoy normal things such as exhibitions or theatre or, hell, even a casual walk through a park. They were beautiful at this time of year now that Summer was just around the corner and the weather was getting much warmer and brighter. For Chris, any simple trip now relied upon precision timing and stealth-like skills to avoid being seen and quite frankly, that must have sucked.

“Well, you’re welcome to come with. I’m sure we could sneak you in with a disguise somehow.” she winked and nudged him with her shoulder to break the silence, and there was a smile forming in the corner of his mouth. 

“Fuck it. You’re on!”

*

Next Chapter HERE

[jaxsteamblog]

I started writing an outline for a non existent Flower Shop AU series but it just turned into Loving Avatar Thuy Hours.

Here are some great things about Avatar Thuy (SUPER long post because I love Thuy):

She tells her folks that she’s a girl around the same time she tells them about the bald man who taught her to sling mud. Because there’s not a lot of gendered differences in the Swamp Tribe, the trans thing wasn’t a big deal. Finding out their daughter was the Avatar, on the other hand, REALLY WAS.

The concept of “kin” (FOLKLORE TERM) and the connection of all life in the swamp via the root system has a profound spiritual effect on Thuy. She can perfectly call up any Avatar and, as she gets older, can channel them easily when in the Avatar State. For the on-screen Avatars, here’s Thuy’s hot takes:

Wan- She is Not A Fan. Doesn’t like how he shifts between being super cocky and super insecure. Wishes he had not closed off the Spirit Realm. (Not like it worked, as she gestures angrily around the swamp)

Yangchen- When Thuy learned about Fairy Godmothers from a book of Fairy Tales someone brought into the Swamp, this is immediately who Thuy thought of. Yangchen was always calming and patient, and listened every time Thuy would rant about her cousins stealing a toy or when someone pushed her into the swamp. Family is big in the Swamp and Yangchen became another mother.

Kuruk- He can’t handle kids. He also cannot handle the concept of hick Waterbenders. He is a North Pole Waterbender and (SPOILERS) fell for a high class Fire Nation Lady so, he does not like the Swamp. The Swamp is not a fan of his either.

Kyoshi- TBH Thuy was intimidated by her at first. However, when puberty hit, they talked a lot about body dysmorphia and what it means to be a woman. Thuy was able to accept her body with the continued help of Kyoshi. 

Roku- Roku is a story-teller. He told Thuy about the start of the war, and his time with Sozin. He talked about Azulon and what the royal family used to be like. Thuy was fascinated by the Fire Nation, wondering how such a mythological sounding people could do something so human like wage war.It allowed her to think of the Fire Nation as something more than just The Enemy.

Aang- The first Avatar to greet her. He was her confidante and like a very fun grandpa. He taught her to meditate and throw mud pies (breaking the rules by tiptoeing into Earthbender territory). He talked about the war as it was happening, and explained to her how important it was that she grow up safe. He talked about his kids and asked her about the Swamp. He explained how important it was to understand how all things, all nations, were connected and to make friends in every nation. He told her about Zuko, and about his grandkids. Especially Rohan, who might know a thing or two about pronouns. 

Sometimes, catgators are tame enough to keep near the residents. However, this is similar to things we see in the news when people keep exotic pets. Tame does NOT equal domestic, and bad things happen. So when Thuy shows up with Mister Whiskers, Everyone Is Quite Alarmed. 

Catgators, like real life catfish, are also borderline cryptids. No one knows how old they get. Or how big.

I imagine catgators move like alligators and can be surprisingly fast for their flat, fat bodies. Remember kids, run in a zig zag because they WILL get you.

I am from Florida. I live in Florida once again. My family has lived in Florida since we came to this country. I was “poor white trash” and had an accent. I am NOT indigenous (see above comment about coming to this country). I give Thuy a lot of traits from what I remember about growing up, things I know about the rural south via my family, and throw in the pieces I like from canon. I also want to explore topics that are indigenous specific like what’s happening to the Amazon and the continued sins my country commits on native and/or sacred land. As a sensitivity point: I do not wish to ever write about the trials and tribulations of these issues. That is for native people, as they are the ones who truly understand the generational trauma surrounding it. What I would hope to do is bring awareness to real world situations where we as non-indigenous people can assist.

Don’t let them cut down the Amazon y’all for real. And blowing up Mount Rushmore is RIDICULOUS.

Thuy loves people. Because she’s so used to being around a supportive community, and being a teenager, she doesn’t understand when adults are rude or mocking at first. 

However, she is VERY secure about who she is as a person. Her family and tribe has always supported her, so she has a very strong foundation. It takes a lot to rock her. Mostly, she gets embarrassed when people call her out or make fun of her for being loud and overly excited.

She is scared to meet Katara at first, because she learns a little about what Katara did in the war. What and who she lost. She feels bad that she wasn’t there. Thuy doesn’t know how to start a conversation with her, which is bad because Thuy not so secretly wants to replace Kuruk with Katara as her Water Tribe connection. She doesn’t want to go to Arnook, who lost his daughter, or Hakoda, who lost his wife, and Sokka is in the same category as Katara, obviously.

Suki finds her freaking out. And remember, Thuy is a close friend of Kyoshi. They talk and Suki relaxes Thuy by putting the Avatar in Kyoshi robes. Sokka finds them with Thuy thoroughly disguised and, I might actually write this scene so you’ll have to wait.

Thuy likes Azula at first because she is oddly fascinated by the performative femininity of the Fire Nation. Azula is powerful, confident, and very feminine, and that intrigues Thuy. But Azula is Azula and has very little interest in some backwater peasant, even if she is the Avatar.

Toph embraces everything about the Swamp Tribe, as does Rohan, so they are the ones Thuy is the closest to. Toph, as a more destructive Gyatso, figures out how to rig a pressurized device that launches mud projectiles and the two of them wreck havoc at fancy Beifong dinner parties. Rohan takes the technology up a notch and they all terrorize the Air Temples. Doesn’t have the same impact, because they all survived Aang. Toph teaches Thuy to take no shit and give no fucks.

Thuy is insecure about her inability to communicate with the Spirits. Having grown up in the swamp, she could see them and heard how other people ran into them. Especially the refugees that were allowed in. The Spirits seemed to guide certain people to Thuy, which meant they didn’t hate her, but they never seemed to engage. The only thing she could think of was Wan and blamed him unfairly for a long time.

Thuy does a traditional education as the Avatar. She works for a few years with Toph, having a basis in earthbending already from Aang. Crystalbending is her special talent and Toph dismisses it as playing with jewelry (but never discourages her pupil ofc). 

Jinora is Thuy’s airbending teacher and spiritual advisor. She is very good about calming Thuy when she continues to have this disconnect with the Spirits, but is unable to help her overcome it.

Tenzin deems Rohan too irresponsible but allows them to ferry Thuy around so they still teach the Avatar new things. Plus, in this world, there’s a secular sect of Airbending that Bumi - Aang’s son and an Airbender since apparently all Air Nomads are Benders?? - started during the war. They have a very loose relationship with the Air Nomad commitment to non-violence and can live in permanent residences. They are required to do their initial training at the temples, but many go back to their homes, don’t shave their heads, don’t live a monastic life, etc. Rohan goes back and forth about their place, but ultimately takes over as the head of the secular branch. It appeals to Thuy more and they take their role very seriously because of the responsibility. 

Zuko teaches Thuy firebending. His adaptations to include other styles makes it easier for Thuy to pick up, though she still learns the basics at the Royal Academy for Girls (where she meets Suzu and Zula). 

Katara is Thuy’s “master.” She helps Thuy navigate the political world and they work together on the Water Tribe restoration and re-unification plans. Katara oversees the training schedules, the visitations, the summits, the tributes, and every other bit of minutiae. She also gives Thuy a break and they hang out doing Waterbender stuff.

Sokka and Suki teach Thuy non-bending martial arts. Thuy can kick your ass in a multitude of ways basically.

Thuy gets her Avatar Companions at very different stages. You’d think they wouldn’t get along, but Thuy has collected them and they like her, so they make it work.

Suzu and Zula (those are their names, not nicknames) are twins. They are Firebenders and are not related to the royal family at all. They grew up near the palace, went to the Royal Academy for Girls, and were sent to the palace to keep Thuy company and it was supposed to be very formal and politically advantageous for their parents. Except they actually became friends with Thuy and escaped the Fire Nation to go on adventures, which their parents did not like.

Suzu is a blend of Azula and Ty Lee in my mind. She is named in honor of Fire Lord Sozin. (Her family is SUPER into Fire Nation superiority) She is cheerful and enjoys playing around. She and Thuy get overly excited about things together instead of being “mature” and “above such things” as many noble girls tell them repeatedly. Her “Azula” traits come out when someone insults her family or Thuy. She ends up learning chi blocking from Ty Lee. Suzu is not to be left unsupervised.

Zula is a blend of Azula and Mai. She is “the eldest” and does everything her parents tell her to do, even if she hates it. She is named in honor of Fire Lord Azulon (and I guess Azula?). She ends up becoming an instructor at the Royal Academy for Girls until Thuy whisks her away to go adventuring. Zula hates the rigid society among the nobles and very happily dashes off. Can’t say no to the Avatar right??? Her firebending skill is in marksmanship. She can and will singe the sleeve of some snotty little noble from across the room if they irk her. She learns to bend lightning from Iroh and even Thuy is a little scared.

When Thuy moved from her earthbending lessons and onto air, Toph opened up her metalbending academy to have something to do between professional bending competitions. Jae-hwan was a late addition because he couldn’t afford the fees. Then he found out that the fees were arbitrary because Toph is a Beifong and she gave him a room to stay in. Thuy met him when she visited her Sifu and he, not knowing she was the Avatar, stole her purse as a joke. When he did find out, instead of freaking out, started to make fun of her because some lowly Earthbender orphan was able to steal the Avatar’s wallet. He never lets her forget that or any other embarrassing thing he witnesses.

Tashi is very quiet. He surprised everyone by choosing to join Urban Dust, the secular branch of the Air Nomads, instead of continuing on at the temples. People thought he would become a great sage and possibly live old enough to see the next Air Nomad Avatar. But Tashi is a true child of the sky and would live on his Sky Bison Dawa if he could. He does not like being on the ground for long and frequently disappears to go flying. Tashi specifically asked that Rohan be his mentor, again shocking everyone, but Rohan understood. Getting older, Rohan calms down and becomes very philosophical. Tashi finds them to be very wise and they contemplate the nature of things together. Thuy appreciates the one friend of hers that would never end up in jail with her. Tashi brings the bail money. Tashi also hides the body. Tashi can keep secrets.

Aktuk was born and raised in the North Pole. His father is a waterbending master and his mother is a waterbending healer. His older sister is a waterbending prodigy. He lost his leg during his ice dodging ceremony when the boat crashed. As a non-Bender, he had almost drowned and has a fear of the open sea. He makes his own prosthesis and is very into mechanics. When Thuy attended a festival in the North Pole, they had collided because Aktuk was carrying a bunch of parts and material for a project and didn’t see her. Freaking out, Aktuk tried to scurry away as quickly as possible but Thuy kept asking him questions. When she asked how he kept his leg from freezing, Aktuk immediately started to infodump and forgot about being scared. Thuy had to drag him around for awhile, because Aktuk had been basically taught to defer to Benders, but they refused to let him. Suzu and Zula hated the reminder of Fire Nation propriety, Tashi accepted everyone, and Jae-hwan only cared if people were paying attention to him. Thuy and Aktuk date for awhile, but part amicably after they grow into different people.

Thuy saves the world and I steal Korra’s ending for her own. She balances the Spirit World and the Physical World, opening up the portals. She brings back DRAGONS.

Zuko and Katara ultimately retire. Their daughter Izumi becomes Fire Lord. Sokka and Suki’s daughter Kya surprises everyone when they find out she’s a Waterbender and sits on the Water Tribe triumvirate as the chief of the South Pole. Kya and Izumi, having been born on the same day, terrify the rest of the world with their closeness. They consider themselves more like sisters than cousins and have to be repeatedly talked back from their plans to rule the world. They aren’t killing machines, more that they think they know what’s best and only listen to each other. Sometimes Lu Ten. But ALWAYS Suzu. 

Rohan becomes the head sage of the Urban Dust and creates a flying society that freaks everyone out for awhile. Tashi goes to the Spirit World for a long time and comes back, a little weird. IDK, I have stuff to explore with him. It’s not bad, just very different. 

Suzu marries a nice, minor Fire Nation lord and settles down to teach firebending in his rural home. She adores the royal children and they adore her. When Suzu shows up at either the Fire Nation palace or the South Pole, other people know it’s because either Izumi or Kya were planning something.

Zula never leaves Thuy and they travel together forever. Are they together? IDK, it might just be my attempt to fix (what I think is wrong with) k*rr*sami tbh. 

Toph DOES end up going to the Swamp, but her family knows about it and visits her often. Toph does not become a cop ffs, she becomes Willy Wonka but without the candy and slave labor. Lin tries to head the Beifong family after her mother just leaves one day, but she is much more suited to being a metalbending instructor. Once Suyin settles down, she gently pries the Beifong stuff from her sister’s terrified hands and does a really good job at managing Gaoling. They both studied under the Avatar for a little bit, and their rivalry came about with Suyin getting along better with Thuy. 

Sokka, pulling an Iroh, never leaves his flower shop. People ask him if he’s THE Sokka, brother of the Queen of the Water Tribes, brother-in-law to the Fire Lord, friend of the Avatar, then the father of the South Pole chief and he always goes “No, I just look like him and we have the same name.”

He often says this while Zuko is sitting with him behind the counter, drinking tea. 

Aktuk helps rebuild the South Pole and the Water Tribe navy is reborn. The Earth Kingdom is shook. Toph introduces him to another Swamp Tribe member and he marries her. He loves the Swamp. The Swamp Tribe gains a lot more replacement limbs that were lost to catgators. 

Jae-hwan has a hard time letting go of the metalbending academy. He basically grew up there, and spent every free moment there if he wasn’t travelling with Thuy. When Toph has kids, he realizes he had thought of her as his mom and freaks out. She assures him that it’ll be okay. Before she runs off to the Swamp, she legally adopts him, making him a Beifong. He opens more metalbending academies but runs the one in Gaoling because of familial pride. He encourages Lin to take up pro-bending, and becomes a coach when the mixed bending circuit opens. Rohan is OBSESSED with mixed bending matches. 

Ultimately, Thuy gets to relax in a way Avatars had been unable to for many cycles. The Water Tribe navy keeps the coastal city-kingdoms in the Earth Kingdom in check, while also reinforcing the United Republic. With the Swamp Tribe literally in the Earth Kingdom, the city-kingdoms become more firmly established and the Earth King becomes the Earth Emperor, but has to manage all of the city-kingdoms and it’s just a lot you guys he is so tired. The Fire Nation goes through an artistic renaissance under Zuko’s rule and the former colonies turn into industrial powerhouses. They are an economic force unto themselves and protect the Fire Nation from Earth Kingdom advances. 

With the world in relative harmony, Thuy travels often, since her friends and family have settled all over the world. Mister Whiskers grows to ENORMOUS size and they put him in a wagon when they go around. He does not eat people (anymore) but the wagon still warns others not to get too close. 

Zula is always there, with her RBF and scary fast bending. Thuy is still prone to gleeful outbursts and Zula smiles lovingly. They like to read together and will fall asleep resting on Mister Whiskers as they all bask in the same sunny spot. 

Aw crap, they are together.

[davidmann95]

thoughts on the unity saga?

I had occasion to reread it fairly recently, and while distance definitely takes the bloom off the rose I still like it a lot; it overreaches in a big way but what it does accomplish is considerable.

I’m not gonna pretend its failings are negligible: its focus on Jon in the second half while yielding lots of interesting material means Clark himself ends up sidelined for a lot of this, Rogol Zaar is indeed either a total waste of potential or a big fat nothin’ depending on your perspective, all the space stuff was apparently set up in Supergirl,* and the Legion popping in at the end while not thematically out of place is ridiculously jarring. This is Bendis at his clumsiest plotting-wise, and while I wouldn’t go so far as to advocate for Unity Saga being any longer, it probably should have at least had a breather arc breaking it up in the middle. I’ll still stand up all day every day for The Man of Steel (2018) as flat-out excellent but this isn’t something that should end up on the shelf of anyone other than Superman devotees; it’s the mixed bag that pretty much all of Bendis’s good stuff that still isn’t on the Ultimate Spider-Man (with Bagley) tier is.

That being said? I’d say a solid 70-80% of this was a blast, and the first story in Superman proper that I’d call good since 2007 that wasn’t either a one or two-shot or Chris Roberson playing clean-up. Bendis gets Superman himself *exactly* right and believably pushes him to the limit of his mental and emotional endurance without breaking anything, Reis and Prado are off the goddamn charts and Brandon Peterson’s a perfect fit for the intimate sci-fi feel of the Jon and Krypton sections, there’s tons of inventive superpower-driven setpieces, #4 is the closest Superman has ever come to feeling like a shonen manga in the best way, Jor-El is used as best he can be if you’re dealing with him having been brought back in the run before yours and then he’s shuffled back offstage where he belongs, Zod is for the first time an actual character,** and even Adam damn Strange is fun to have around. And nuclear take, everything with Jon in here rules. Could I have stood for him to have a few more years before a big coming-of-age story? Totally, there was so much potential to be mined with kid Jon, but he was around for all of two years in comics that numbers wise overwhelmingly tilted towards ‘lifeless crap if not actively wretched’, so it’s not as though that was a status quo with much weight behind it. As-is it’s the experience of learning how the world really works as you grow up blown up into big mythological Superman terms, seeing the world and learning about the worst in it across spacetime and dimensions, and Jon still stays the good kid he is and in the process pulls off the only Action Comics #1 cover homage I can recall that’s actually thematically weighty instead of an empty Easter Egg. Given the time travel shit it’d be easy to bring back kid Jon, but I sure hope that doesn’t mean taking this new vision off the table, just let ‘em be weird brothers or something. 

It’s that thread specifically that lets Unity Saga pull off putting Clark into a position of political power that actually feels sensible and in keeping with his priorities: it’s not a lack of faith in the people of Earth that leads to him deciding he needs to stand for them, as was rebuked in that killer speech in #2. It’s seeing that there’s no kindly galactic community waiting for them but instead just further and bloodier extensions of the exact same problems, problems Krypton and his father were both actively complicit in and possibly victims of. He’s not stepping up because he doesn’t believe in us, but because he’s coming to understand just how heavily the deck is stacked against us - both in the odds of a world figuring thing out for itself ideally and the threats said worlds can come to represent on the cosmic stage - and that not having someone standing up on our behalf isn’t going to be an option. That strong unifying concept isn’t enough to overlook the problems I mentioned, but on the whole even if it comes together awkwardly nearly every individual scene in this is still at worst pretty good, and while there’s no reason to expect Bendis is going to suddenly resolve all his problems going forward #16-18 have already extrapolated on the ideas presented here in exciting and promising ways. Sorry folks, but for now I remain the Bendis Superman liker; for what it’s worth I’ve been ambivalent at best on almost everything else he’s done for DC so far.

* The last time I fell for “this comic focusing on a side character will be about a mystery set up in the main book and will give the big answers” was Red Robin when I first started collecting comics. How could I have possibly expected that this time they’d mean it?

** Historically some of you may cite New Krypton as a counterpoint, to which I’ll say that I don’t care because I haven’t read it and almost certainly never will, but my understanding is that if New Krypton is the closest thing you have to an argument you’re on shaky ground.

[txladyj-blog]

Chapter 3 - This Time Around

a Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx​

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 15/?

On her way down to the water, Jess blinked the sun from her eyes and slapped her baseball cap on. They still had many more weeks left of the relentless sun and heat, the only let up being the late afternoons and early evenings when there was a little respite from the heat. Only then, when night crept in did the temperature change drastically, becoming colder but not enough for Jess to wear a jacket or sweater. She never really seemed to feel the cold all that much, she put it down to having lived in so many different places with such differing weather. Sarah had quite loudly blamed the fact that she had more layers of fat than most. Jess grit her teeth and shoved the comment away, hoping that not too many people from the group had heard her.

Her sneakers flapped against the dusty surface of the slope as she neared the bottom. Carol was in the corner by the shore, Ed watching her closely as she washed his shirt. Sophia sat on a rock nearby playing with her doll. Her soft chatter like a delightful tune to Jess’s ears. On the opposite side, was Daryl, knee deep in the water and holding up a sopping wet shirt with a huge bloodstain right in the middle. She scuffed towards him and stopped by the waters edge.

“How you doing, Stinky?” She chirped.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder at her. He was wearing a simple, off-white vest that was turning transparent from the water.

“Fine.” He called back.

She tilted her head to one side as she observed him trying to remove the stubborn stain from the garment. Her knowledge of history and attendance at many, authentic renaissance fairs had led to a vast knowledge of life without washer dryers and laundromats. She kicked off her sneakers, rolled her jeans up and waded into the water.

“Give it here, you’re making a pigs ear of that.” She chuckled.

“Been washin’ my stuff in rivers all my life, you can’t teach me shit, girl” he shot back, although he didn’t sound angry, more intrigued than anything else. She stopped beside him, the water lapping at her thighs. In the blistering heat, it was a welcome respite. Her body temperate cooled and she really wanted to just dive in and submerge herself in the tantalizing freshness of the water.

“You’re so stubborn. Just humor me, c’mon.” She said, reaching out for the shirt.

He reluctantly dragged it up from the water. Once again, she couldn’t help but notice his strong arms and dragged her lower lip under her front teeth. When her eyes lifted to his face, she was alarmed to find him staring right at her.

“Jess?” He asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Um. Sorry. I wasn’t looking- I mean...” She pointed a finger at him “…give me the damn shirt” and snatched it from his grasp. “Uh…” She shook the image from her head and waded a couple of steps to her left, meeting a large rock protruding from the water. “You need to use a rock. Like this.”

Swirling the shirt around in the water, she kept her eyes firmly on what she was doing, knowing that if she risked a peek, he would be able to see straight through her and her inability to ignore his two best features. Gathering the shirt up, she began massaging it into the smooth rock. He silently looked on from behind her, craning his neck to see what she was doing. Then, she took hold of one end of the shirt and beat it against the surface with a loud slap that echoed across the quarry each time. Daryl thought it looked like she was taking some serious anger out on his one and only shirt and hoped it would still be in one piece when she was done. When she stepped back, dipped it in the water and held it up, the stain had visibly diminished

“That was a lot of blood.” She remarked with a small pant. The last thing she wanted was for him to know how out of breath she was from battering a rock with a large piece of fabric.

“Yeah” He agreed. “Aint mine.”

“I know.” She said quickly, meaning he was now staring at her again. “That’s what I-I was looking for” She stammered, motioning to his arm. “Injuries.”

He nodded, feigning agreement. “Yeah, sure.”

“Damn right. That’s me. Always checking folks for injuries.” She babbled as she wrung the shirt out and attempted to slosh past him.

“No ya aint.” He argued with a small smile.

She sighed and turned to him “Alright. No, I don’t. But I really was with you. Honestly.”

“Right” He grinned.  

“Here.” She said, tossing the twisted ball of fabric at him “I’m going before I embarrass myself even more.”

“Sure” He grunted. “Oh, don’t forget to check Merle for injuries.”

She stopped and slowly looked over her shoulder, her lips pushed into a thin line before she released a bashful laugh and flapped her hands at her sides, tilting her head back and sighing at the sky.

“That’s for callin’ me Stinky.” He confirmed while wading back to the shore and passing her.

“OK. We’re even. I’ll leave checking Merle over to twisted sister number 2” she mentioned, her hands coming up and dramatically shielding her mouth as she gasped and giggled loudly, the sound bouncing from the cliffs around the water. Daryl let himself go and laughed along with her as they both paddled through the water and back to dry land.

Gives as good as she gets, this girl.

Carol looked up when she heard Daryl and Jess laughing with one another as she walked out of the water, her lips curled into a smile when she saw Daryl beaming from ear to ear, a sight she had never seen since she’d met him for the first time. She’d assumed he never displayed such an expression, but it was now clear that he just didn’t have anything to smile about before.

“I say you could stop?” Ed snapped from behind her. “I need that damn shirt.”

She resumed her task without argument, the happy scene she’d witnessed making it all a little easier.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

That night, Jess was taken off guard when she passed the RV. She held an empty, metal bowl after eating alone in her tent and was distracted by a whistle from the top of the vehicle. She looked up to see Daryl reclined in his seat, in his usual spot but a lot earlier than usual. He nudged his head up, beckoning for her to join him. It had been weeks since they’d first met and she felt a sense of pride when she thought of how far they’d come and how they'd managed to at least partially break down each others barriers. She wasn’t yet sure about saying they were friends, but she was certain they enjoyed each other’s company.

Returning her plastic cutlery and her camping bowl to the bucket in the food prep area, she passed Sarah and Jodie who were immersed in hushed whispers as usual. Also, around the campfire, was Glenn, Andrea, her sister Amy, Merle, Dale and T-dog. She offered them all a polite smile, receiving the same back. Carol and Rick retreated into their tents with their families and Shane was out checking the fences. Having never really seen Daryl and Jess on their regular perch, everyone exchanged glances when she climbed the ladder to the RV, their nightly routine now revealed to the group.

Appearing beside him, she sat down and caught his eye. Saying nothing, they sat side by side for a while until the chatter resumed below and both of them were certain the topic of conversation was not directed at them. Jess slumped down in her seat, rested her head on the backrest and closed her eyes while Daryl lit a cigarette. After a while, Jess found she’d drifted off into a light sleep and woke only when she heard Sarah wish Daryl a good night in her typical, flirtatious high school cheerleader voice. Daryl ignored her.

Jess sat up and rubbed at her face, clearing her throat and raising her eyebrows at the distance Daryl was able to flick his cigarette end out into the distance.

“What were you doing when the word ended?” She wanted to know. The sound of her voice seemed to slice through the atmosphere like a knife and she smarted at the sound. “Wow, never thought I’d say that sentence.” She added more quietly.

He flicked his lighter on and off over and over again as he struggled to decide if he should tell her the truth or not. Concluding that he had previously snapped at her and offended her and she was still sat with him, he guessed she would be able to handle it.

“Was workin’ my way through four lines of coke when I looked up and saw the TV had that national guard alert thing on it.” He disclosed.

“Yeah, we saw that on our phones. My friend and I. We were at a renaissance fair.” She said casually.

He briefly wondered why she didn’t seem bothered that he confessed so openly to being a cocaine user when it occurred to him that she simply took people as they were, flaws or not.

“A what?” He questioned.  

“A Renaissance fair. It’s a recreation of a historical setting with costumes and role play and stuff, for a whole weekend.”

His expression was one of pure bafflement as he stared at her.  

“So, you like… get all dressed up and run around in a field pretending to’ to fight or some shit?”

“Well, that’s the battle reenactment part. But it happens, Yeah.” She affirmed.

His brow furrowed. “You’re kinda weird, y’know that?”

“I think that’s what you like about me.” She grinned as she leaned towards him and nudged his elbow with hers. It was the first time she’d actually physically touched him aside from letting him help her up from the ground in the woods. He didn’t react which she could only take as a good sign.

“I don’t like nobody.” He scoffed.  

Jess huffed and rolled her eyes, a bright smile on her face that he could see clearly enough due to light from a lantern between them.

“Yes, you do. Just accept that you’re as weird as me and that’s why we get along.” She grinned.

Part of him hated that she was able to draw smiles out of him like no one else he had ever known, but the other part of him liked the fact that when he was with her, things seemed that little bit easier.

“Whatever.” He dismissed.

She laughed to herself and got up, reaching her arms high above her head and stretching her muscles.  

“Where ya goin?” He questioned.  

“Back to my tent.” She yawned. “Tired”

“Ya ain’t got no more weird hobbies to tell me about?” He continued.

Jess was mildly shocked by the question, he wanted her to tell him about her hobbies? He wanted to talk to her at all? It no longer felt like she was forcing him to converse with her, he’d taken the lead this time and she was more than happy to let him have it.  

“Wasn’t aware you were that interested.” She admitted.

“I ain’t. Just nothin better to do.” He shrugged.

Jess plonked herself back in the rickety chair again and shifted her body to face him, throwing one leg over the other.

“OK, so if my hobbies are weird, what are yours?” She challenged.

At the prospect of being asked more about himself and his life, his desire to talk lessened considerably in seconds.

“Ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me” He mumbled.

“I am.” She glared at him with a bold and entertained look.  

Accepting that he wasn’t going to get out of answering her probing and he was partly to blame for encouraging her to stay, he nibbled his bottom lip and answered her question.

“Fine. Huntin’, drinkin’, gettin’ high”

"And spittin' chaw in a bucket?" She joked.

"Asshole" He grumbled as she covered her mouth with her hand and stifled a giggle.

Birds flew overhead, a now rare sight that meant there were still some species out there somewhere, flourishing away from all the decay. Jess swayed back and forth in her seat with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Maybe you can teach me how to hunt, drink and get high one day.” She suggested breezily.

“Nah, I ain’t wastin’ time with no lightweight.” He declined.

“Just makes me a cheap date.” She realized instantly that she’d just come out with something unintentionally flirtatious and panicked. “I mean, yeah…uh… probably a lightweight.” She laughed awkwardly as she played with the hem of her T-shirt.

“Ya ever been huntin’?” He wanted to know, ignoring her outward discomfort and wondering what it was that made her so fidgety sometimes.

“No. I’d like to.” She said.

He nodded, leaning forward and picking up a leaf from the roof of the RV. He fiddled with it, folded it in half and then in half again.

“Too dangerous to be out there without knowin’ whatcha doin’.” He expressed.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right. And I wouldn’t.” She agreed.

Believing she’d murdered the conversation with her careless chit chat, she stopped talking and resigned herself to sitting quietly and tapping her sneaker on the edge of the roof again. More time passed and Jess couldn’t think of a way to get up and leave without seeming embarrassed or strange. She knew she was overthinking everything but being in the presence of someone she was actually starting to find highly attractive was unsettling and she wasn’t used to it.

“So, what’s the difference?” She heard him utter out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Said ya ain’t shy, ya introverted. What’s the difference?”

Two enquiries into her personality and interests in one night meant that she may have been all over the place and afraid to do something wrong, but the night had still been a small triumph in itself.

“Shy means you’re anxious about talking to people. Nervous and timid. Introverts aren’t always like that; we just need to re-charge sometimes. We’re confident with people we’re comfortable around. I’ll talk to people but I usually find most folks just drain me. I guess I’m just quiet by nature, but I’m not shy.” She explained.

“Hm.” He grunted. “Some kind of head shrinker tell you that?”

“No. It’s kind of common knowledge. Or at least I thought it was.” She disclosed “I think maybe your introverted too, it’s something we have in common.”

“Nah. I just think most folks are assholes.” He countered quickly

Jess giggled at his stubborn streak and for the second time Daryl realized that he liked the fact that she thought him funny. His mouth quirked up into a half smile.

“I’ll leave you alone to recharge your introvert batteries.” She winked at him. “Goodnight.”

She didn’t hear him protest or call her back as she descended the ladder so when her feet hit the ground, she made straight for her tent, longing for her sleeping bag and wishing she had a pen so she could record the events of her time spent sat with someone she really would have liked to have called her friend.

“Hey.” A voice called out. She turned back and saw him smoking yet another cigarette and leaning forward in his seat. “Ya wanna learn how to track animals?” A thin line of smoke rose from where he sat, high up into the air before it vanished.

A rush of excitement thundered through her and she wrestled with the urge not to grin too widely.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She squeaked, her voice emerging in higher pitch than she’d expected.

“Sunrise. Meet me at the tree line over there” he lifted his arm, pointing across the camp. “Make sure ya have somethin to eat first. Ya pass out on me i’ma leave ya ass out there.”

Jess knew it was a playful dig at her making him eat a bowl of berries before going hunting and liked the fact that he’d remembered and used it on her. Turning the tables and proving that their jibing at one another was enjoyed as much by him as it was by her.

“OK. I will.” She beamed. “See you at sunrise”

“One more thing” He rasped, standing up and driving a hand into his jeans pocket. Her eyes grew larger when she saw the plastic box clasped in his fingers as he tugged them out of his pocket. He threw it down to her, the box clattering in the dust at her feet. She looked down at it and wanted nothing more than to run back to the ladder and hug him. Five precious, black, ballpoint pens.

“Yours stopped workin’, right?” He checked.

“Yeah.” She responded as she gingerly bent down to pick them up.

“Saw ‘em when I was out on a run with Rick the other day.”

He thought of me when he was out on a run?

She opened her mouth to speak, but what was a simple gesture from Daryl was a huge deal to Jess. He had just given her back the ability to express her emotions and keep her sanity in check. Now, she would need no more dangerous walks in the woods alone and she could write until she fell asleep.

“This is um…you don’t know how grateful I am for this. Thank you, Daryl.” She said, swallowing hard and looking right at him.

“No problem.” He grunted, raising a hand at her in a small wave “Night.”

Before she succumbed to sleep, Jess sat cross legged on her sleeping bag with her torch in her mouth, shining down on the page and began to write.

It’s funny, I never thought someone throwing a box of pens at me would mean so much. Daryl knew I couldn’t write because my one and only pen stopped working, so he brought me back a box from a supply run. I must have looked at him like he had grown an extra head. I just couldn’t believe he thought of me while he was out there. I can write again, my mind feels clearer already and I’m happier. All because he got me some stupid pens.

OK, maybe it isn’t just the pens. He seems to be coming around to the idea of us being friends. Tonight, he didn’t actually say it but he wanted me to go sit with him on the RV and then tried to act as though he wasn’t interested in me at all while asking me questions about myself. He’s actually got a sense of humor and a personality that he’s slowly but surely letting me see and it’s awesome. He’s pretty awesome.  

But he caught me looking at him today. It was mortifying and I’m so angry at myself. Yeah, the guy is hot. But I thought I was stronger than to get caught practically drooling at him. He knew too. He knew exactly what was going on and I feel like my life is officially over.

Hopefully, I’ll get eaten by a walker or he’ll get a bout of amnesia.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Her T-shirt was sticking to her back with sweat. She really wanted to know how Daryl did this every day in such heat and sometimes even with his leather vest on. She was sure she’d pass out and had consumed most of the water she brought with her before they’d even been out for an hour. Daryl crept along in front of her, examining the ground and snapped branches of foliage In the woods. Try as she might, she kept falling behind and her legs felt like they were made of cement.

I really should have used that gym membership.

“C’mon, keep up. Stay close to me.” Daryl instructed from in front of her. She could see that the back of his shirt was also dampened with sweat, but unlike her, he showed little to no signs of fatigue.

“It’s so damn hot out here” she complained “am I in hell?!”

“Purgatory at best.” He mumbled

She dragged the back of her hand through the perspiration on her top lip.

Great. A sweat moustache. Sexy.

“Looooord. I’m MEEELTING!” She cried.

“Shh!” He whirled around, bundling her against a tree with his fingers wrapped around the top of one of her arms. The movement was so quick and unexpected and her flesh stung but she didn’t flinch, his temper too short for her to react. She couldn’t deny that fear tickled her veins and she was rooted to the spot. “You stupid or somethin?! Ain’t just animals out here. Place is full of Walkers and ya gonna get us both bit if ya don’t keep ya god damn voice down.” He hissed at her through gritted teeth.

“OK. I’m sorry.” She whispered. “You’re hurting me”

In a split second, he was full of guilt for losing his temper at her as he examined her alarmed expression. He looked down at his hand clamped tightly around her arm. He quickly let go as if her skin was made from lava, seeing the red mark he’d left behind. An angry handprint. He shrank back and she noticed his eyes kept dropping and coming back to the burning patch around her bicep.

“I-I didn’t mean to-“ he mumbled.

“-It’s OK.” She interrupted “really, it’s OK.”

He dragged a hand over his face, his crossbow rattling against his legs as he held it loosely in his grasp with his other hand.

“Come on, let’s keep going.” She suggested, stepping away from the tree and motioning with her hand for him to pass her.

“Wait” he grunted. She stopped and stood still, witnessing what she could only describe as pure, genuine regret in the angry, aggressive redneck.

“I wouldn’t hurt ya. Not on purpose.” He told her

“Daryl, I know” Jess tried

“Naw, Naw” He dismissed, waving a hand at her. “I saw it. in your eyes. Ya scared of me.”

Jess exhaled slowly and tried to ground herself. This was a conversation she had definitely not anticipated and one with which she knew she needed to exercise extreme caution with.

“You just surprised me. I’m not scared of you. I wouldn’t spend half as much time with you if I was. I understand why you got mad at me, I’m kind of annoying and I don’t know how to handle this new world like you do.”

He paced about in the small space between the trees in front of her. Back to front, side to side, before he finally stopped and began to bite his thumbnail.

“Sorry.” He muttered from behind his hand.

Jess smiled at him. In that moment, she knew that Daryl was not good at apologies and had very likely, hardly ever, genuinely apologized for anything in his life.

“I told you. It’s OK”

He nodded once, raised his crossbow again and charged past her.

“Ya gotta keep up so I can keep an eye on ya.” He grumbled

She took a quick swig of water from the bottle that was fastened to a plastic strap on her belt and carried on after him, wishing that it was raining, or snowing, or that she was standing in the water of the quarry washing clothes. But the view made up for it and she couldn’t lie to herself, watching Daryl stalk about between the trees, concentration etched on his face, his crossbow at the ready and his strong physique shining in the light of the sun as he moved was almost enough to make her forget what she was doing there altogether.  But while she thought Daryl nice to look at, she remained platonically interested in him and what he had to teach her there and then, knowing that someday, she might need to use the information presented to her.

“See this right here.” He stopped and pointed with his boot to a nibbled patch of grass “deer.”

Jess finally caught up, standing next to him and regarding the slightly disturbed area on the ground.

“How do you know that?!” She asked with surprise.

“They’re messy eaters. They press it against their top palette and yank it right outta the ground.”

Her face changed and she thought for a moment as her lips rose into a smile.

“Like a really cute lawn mower.” She commented.

He just looked at her as if she was crazy.

“What about Walkers? Can you track them?” She wanted to know as she peered down at the missing grass, noting the disturbed earth under it.

“Walkers and live humans are easiest to track. We leave footprints, stamped down grass, broken twigs and messed up foliage. That kinda shit.” He explained.

She began to back away with a glint in her eye that he didn’t like the look of.

“So if I ran off, you’d be able to track me?” She asked.

He followed her, walking with her as she stepped backwards. She was challenging him and he didn’t like it one bit. Not out there in the open. Not where she could get killed.

“I could, but runnin’ off would be a real dumb thing to do.” He warned.

“Look at me, it’s not like I’m going to get far.” She gestured to her torso with her hands.

“Stop.” He ordered firmly

“Maybe I should try, could use the exercise” she shrugged lightheartedly, aware she was once again prodding at his temper but caring very little. Angry Daryl wasn’t all that bad to look at either.

He was glaring at her, his blue eyes intense. For such a mysterious, introverted and antisocial person, she couldn’t figure out why it was that he seemed to manage and maintain eye contact with her on a number of occasions. Not that she was complaining.

“Ya stay with me, so I can keep ya safe.” He affirmed.

His switch in tone from relaxed to stern and protective stirred something in Jess. She liked the way his eyes locked with hers as he talked about keeping her safe. She hadn’t expected this level of care from him and could only hazard a guess that it was because he actually did like her enough to want her around. She nodded and gestured with her hand for him to continue leading the way.

“How did you learn this?” She queried.

“My ol’ man used to take me out into the woods. Blindfold me and bail. Had to track him.”

“Well, it worked.”

“Yeah. He’d tan my hide every time I got it wrong.”

Jess smiled at the ground as she walked but it soon dawned on her that he could be serious and that there was the possibility that Daryl didn’t have the best upbringing in the world.

“You taught anyone else how to do this?” She continued in her quest to find out more about him.

“Naw.”

“Don’t you and Merle usually hunt together?”

“Not no more. We split up. He’s more interested in getting’ laid. Stop askin’ questions, every animal in Georgia can hear ya.” He scolded.

“Sorry.” She muttered as she scanned the area around them. A darkened, bumpy patch around a tree stump caught her eye and she skirted away from Daryl, approaching it with some hesitation.

“Are those edible?” She questioned while leaning forwards over the gathering of mushrooms.

“Again with the damn questions” he complained as he stomped over to where she stood and followed her gaze.

“I have to ask questions to learn” she corrected, straightening up and raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, can eat those” He answered, ignoring her last statement.. “But don’t eat nothin’ like that without askin’ me or Merle or someone that knows what the hell they’re talkin’ ‘bout. The wrong ones could kill ya.”

“Or get me real high.” She suggested with a wink.

“You ever done shrooms?” His face was unimpressed, not taken in by her playful line of questioning.

She placed both hands on her hips and let out a small laugh “Do I look like I’ve done shrooms?”

“Right. No. Don’t touch any unless ya desperate.” He told her before resuming her lesson about different types of tracks. He explained how animals have certain ways of moving which leave footprints that signal what they are. Along with how to identify bird tracks and how to cover her own path if she ever need to escape Into the woods.

“Why would I run away from another live human?” She asked.

“Can’t trust people no more. Some of ‘em are worse than the Walkers.” He replied. “Ya see another person, keep ya distance and ya weapon ready. They could steal your shit or wanna eat ya with the way things are goin’.”

That’s food for thought.

“I’m a catch. I’d keep them fed for at least a fortnight.” She chirped.

He suddenly stopped and glared back at her. She couldn’t read his expression, somewhere between irritation and confusion. He said nothing and carried on walking.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The majority of the day was highly educational for Jess and she took a vested interest in being able to hunt her own food and escape without trace into the trees. She’d even been able to practice a few things. Daryl let her use his crossbow to shoot a squirrel and she shocked herself when she celebrated the animals demise instead of crying about it. That was her squirrel, he had told her. She was going to skin it and eat it because it was her first ever successful hunt. She felt a swelling sense of pride in her chest when he handed it to her and made sure she carried it back to camp.

As they neared the tree line that separated them from the clearing in which the fire was being started for the evening, Jess and Daryl slowly wandered along, neither of them really wanting to go back and sit among the others. Their time alone in the woods had been mutually enjoyable and peaceful and Daryl considered asking her if she wanted to do the same again the next day. Before he could speak, she beat him to it.

“I enjoyed today.” She confessed. “It was very educational.”

“Me too.” He replied quietly, keeping his vision on his path and hoisting the string of squirrels and various other small, dead animals further up his shoulder.

“Where’s your vest?” She enquired, using it as an excuse to catch a glimpse of his arms.

Screw it. I’ve earned this.

He looked up at her briefly, catching her eyes sweeping his upper arm and chose to ignore it as as he prepared for her reaction to what he was about to tell her.

“Washed it this mornin’. Was dryin’ when I left.” She began to giggle to herself and felt him shove her in the arm in jest. “Shut up.”  He grunted.

“He actually listened to me. Oh my god.” She said to herself with a wide grin.

“It’s a one off. Don’t act so smug.” He grumbled as they both stepped out of the trees into the open area of the camp. Activity was at a minimum. Shane and Lori were talking in the corner, Carol sat with Sophia by the fire as Glenn fanned the initial flames. Andrea was atop of the RV while Dale was at the food station. Jess turned to Daryl with her squirrel gripped in her hand by its tail.

“Thank you. For taking me out.” She said sincerely.

“You’re welcome.” He said with a nod.

It was a clear and sincere acceptance and strangely polite for him. But she appreciated it all the same. He intended to follow it up with an invitation to do the same the next day, but something shattered his plan.

“Thank you for taking me out Daryl I love youuuuu!” A high-pitched voice mocked from behind them.

Daryl whirled around and locked his sights on Sarah.

“What’s up? You jealous or somethin?! Huh?” He raged as he stormed towards them. Jess managed to grab one of his arms to stop him but she shrugged her off and told her in no uncertain terms that she was going to let him say his piece.

”I should ram this squirrel down her throat” Jess said under her breath.

Daryl’s rage was evidently scaring Sarah into submission to an extent. When he stopped in front of her and loomed over as she perched on a tree stump, his eyes narrowed and Jodie, who was sat beside Sarah, instinctively moved away and stood nearby like the true coward she was.

“You deaf as well as stupid?” He seethed.

“N-no.” She said with an air of fake confidence..

“You wouldn’t wanna go out there anyways, I’d feed ya skinny ass to the Walkers before the heat melts that plastic shit in ya face.” He hissed. “You got a thing for Rednecks? That why ya jealous?”

“No”

“Funny. Ain’t what I’ve seen.”

“Don’t you dare.” Sarah warned

“C’mere. I gotta tell ya somethin.” He leaned closer, curling his index finger at her and gesturing for her to move forwards. She refused, so he defiantly positioned his face by her ear. “Threatenin’ me ain’t wise, bitch. Not with what I saw ya doin with my brother in the woods.”

“You didn’t see anything. I wasn’t doing anything.” She protested through gritted teeth.

He moved back slightly, looking right at her. His lip curling in disgust. He hated girls like Sarah and Jodie as much as Jess seemed to. He too had endured their persecution at high school.

“Harder, Merle. Harder.” He mocked quietly adapting his voice and making it higher-pitched.

Sarah’s face twisted into pure panic.

“Oh my god. Shut your mouth. You some kind of pervert?” She fumed, quickly looking over her shoulder at a petrified Jodie, stood hugging herself and biting her nails.

“Nah, that’s Merle. But ya know that already, don’t ya?” He leaned close to her again, hearing her draw in a jagged breath. “Maybe next time he’s balls deep in ya, you should keep it down. Just a suggestion.”

Jess was impressed at his ability to render them both silent and reasonably terrified in seconds and she only wished she could do the same. His comment regarding Sarah’s badly executed lip fillers had almost made her bellow with laughter. But she exercised some restraint and watched on with dignity. Then came his graphic ridicule of her sexual activity with Merle in the woods. She hadn’t seen this side to him. Spiteful and savage and she had felt a twinge of discomfort at his brash and crude references. However, she struggled to find a reason why it wasn’t justified and decided that it all boiled down to the fact that Sarah shouldn’t be dishing it out if she couldn't take it.

It was some time before Daryl finally backed down after an intense stare off between then, but when he did, Sarah sat motionless and humiliated in her spot, her hands clasped in her lap and her jaw pulled tight.

“C’mon” Daryl said to Jess as he passed “let’s cook this shit up.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I think I have a crush on him. I’m so pissed at myself. Why do I always like guys that wouldn’t look at me twice?! Who am I trying to kid? No one looks at me twice anyway. Suppose I’ll just have to window shop, as usual. The world ended. Only a few survived and my brain thinks it’s an appropriate time to develop a crush on someone. It seems it’s been noticed by the twisted sisters too. No doubt I’ll have to endure more mockery at their hands. Or maybe What Daryl said to Sarah will make her think twice in the future. I don’t know. It was kind of…hot. Watching him shut her up like that. I can only hope it’s stays with her and she leaves us alone. Us. That’s strange. Me. Leave me alone.

Sometimes, I feel like they’re how I’m supposed to be. Maybe if I were more like them, things would be easier. Are they roses and I’m just a Dandelion? Roses may have thorns but if you breathe in instead of out at a Dandelion, it’ll choke you.

Choosing to sit with Rick and Carl after everyone had eaten, Jess jotted down words in her journal, tilting it to avoid Carl’s curious gaze. After weeks at the camp, Jess concluded that the cop next to her and his young son were actually quite nice company and decent conversation in the late evening hours when the sun would set and she’d start to look forward to retreating to the top of the RV with someone who had become her favorite individual to be around. Daryl.

Glenn and T-dog sat on the other side of Jess, with Andrea beside them, Dale on the RV and Merle next to Daryl, who was positioned square in her sightline when she looked up. He carved bolts and sharpened his hunting knife while Carl, Rick and Jess conversed quietly between themselves.

Merle nudged his brothers arm and Daryl’s hands stilled, his knife poised and still over a rock in case he sliced his hand off as a result of Merle’s careless action.

“Hey, Darlina. What ya say we head into the city at some point? Pick us up a little whiskey for these cold nights.”

“City’s full of walkers. Ain’t worth it.” Daryl replied with a shake of his head.

“Ahh, don’t be no sissy! Be in and out faster’n a bat outta hell.” Merle reasoned.

It was the worst idea Daryl had heard in a long time. In fact, the last bad idea he’d heard had also come from Merle and all the bad ideas before that. A pattern had formed and Daryl was no longer interested in being involved in any of his big brothers hairbrained and dangerous schemes.

“Yeah, maybe.” He mumbled in an attempt to quieten him.

Rick, who had overheard what was said, lifted his head from watching his son sitting on the floor next to Jess.

“It’s wise to keep a clear head right now. you both know Walkers are working their way up the mountains” He offered.

Merle stood up. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, the ash from the end flittering down from the orange end like confetti.

“Yo, Sherriff good boy? This don’t concern you” Merle snapped with a point of his finger. In a second, he was gone, vanished into the approaching darkness and not a single soul sat around the fire cared where.  

Rick sighed and looked sideways at Jess, who was offering him a sympathetic smile as she turned a page in her journal and carried on scribbling.

“What are you writing?” He asked.

“Nothing exciting. Haikus.” She muttered. Making a mistake on the page, she scribbled it out, her tongue emerging from the corner of her mouth in concentration.

“Haikus” Rick repeated.

“Dad, a Haiku is a short, Japanese poem that has a 5-7-5 syllable rule.” Carl interrupted. Rick was more than aware of what a Haiku was, but decided to humor his son anyway and presented his best, faked surprised look.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Jess grinned at Carl.

“I see. Can we hear one?” Rick asked.

Jess never shared any of the fruits of her labor when she was writing, always finding it too personal and revealing to read out to anyone, let alone people she hadn’t known all that long. She was no Haiku expert, nor was she all that into them, but the short, direct nature of them was both an appealing hurdle for her to overcome and something that keep her mind sharp.

“Oh, I don’t know…” She mused.

“Yeah! Please?” Carl begged, shifting around so he could peer at her with inquisitive eyes.

Daryl looked up from across the fire and paused his task. He slid his knife back into its holster and leaned against the wooden box behind him, bending one leg and draping an arm over it.  

“Uh… OK. sure.” Jess reluctantly agreed. She cleared her throat and tried to speak without her voice shaking. Suddenly feeling like she was stood up at the front of class at high school with a room full of judgement staring right back at her. But she wasn’t at high school, this was different and the young boy on tenterhooks in front of her was so enthusiastic, she felt too bad to decline.

“I stand taller to

Overcome the shadows

Of those who doubt me.”

Her cheeks reddened and she stared at her handwriting on the page, noticing one letter ‘a’ that wasn’t quite joined up enough. The silence around her was deafening.

“That’s… personal.” Rick remarked “but good. I mean, I don’t know what I’m talking about but-”

“-it is good. I think it’s good.” Carl affirms. “You should write more of those.”

His encouragement was endearing and she could only hope that his happy demeanor would continue, despite their dire situation.

“Thanks.” She muttered bashfully as she drew a star in the corner of the page.

“Should write a Haiku for everyone.” Glenn suggested from her other side. “Merle’s would be interesting, that’s for sure”

He was right. What could she say about Merle? With an out of the blue surge of confidence, she wrote down what was in her head, smirking at the words on the page and giving Glenn a quick wink. Before sharing her Haiku, she checked that Merle was well out of earshot or she would have some serious explaining to do.

“Bug zapper becomes

Merle’s entertainment after

TV repossessed.”

Nervous giggles filtered through the group around the fire as most of them also checked over their shoulders to make sure Merle wasn’t present. Jess scanned the laughing faces to see Daryl dip his head and smile into his lap. A rush of pride and self-satisfaction surged through her at the thought that she’d managed to make at least five people laugh, including the brother of the man she was making fun of and the person she had developed a crush on.

As the chuckling subsided, Daryl tilted his head back and rested a cigarette between his lips. Lighting it, his eyes never left hers and she began to wonder what he was doing and how strange it must have looked to everyone else. Luckily, no one was paying them any mind. Crickets chirped in the surrounding long grass in the tree line and the chilled, nightly breeze arrived, Andrea pulled her jacket closer around her and shivered.

“Bout me?” Daryl rasped.

The group fell silent, all exchanging intrigued glances. Jess stifled a huge grin, knowing it was quite something for him to pipe up in a social situation like this and put himself in the spotlight.

“OK.” She giggled “Daryl…. Lets see.” She began to write on the page again as the others grinned and waited for the most anticipated Haiku of what had become the nights entertainment. When Jess was ready, she flashed him a wide, perfectly white smile and the brightness and life in her eyes seemed to hit him like a lightning bolt.

“Daryl. Person who

Lacks class but enjoys a life

Without rich folks rules”

Rick couldn’t help but snort with laughter along with Carl. Jess joined them and had to build up the bravery to look back at Daryl. When she did, she saw him pick up a smell pebble and throw it at her. It bounced off her sneaker and skittered across the dirt. But his smile was missed with a blink, wanting to hide how amused he really was from those around him.

“Dunno whatcha talkin’ ‘bout. I got class”, He muttered.

“I have more class in my little finger” Andrea commented.

Instead of acknowledging Andrea, he continued to focus on the Haiku writing girl in the vintage Batgirl T-shirt that was able to make him feel more like himself than he ever did before. She was self-aware, able to make fun of herself, different and smart and she was as much of a mystery to him as he was to her. Neither one of them had experienced such an unconventional friendship with a person that under normal circumstances, they never would have crossed paths with anyway. But as she watched him with her unassuming, innocent and dark features, it dawned on him. Something he never thought about anyone. Ever. She was pretty.

For the first time in as far back as he could remember, he’d had a decent and enjoyable day. Not only was he able to do what he loved most and did most days, he was able to share it with someone that genuinely wanted to learn something from him and respected his ways of doing things. She wasn’t Merle, inpatient and arrogant. She was receptive, fascinated and soaked up information quicker than he’d expected. He was looking forward to sitting with her on the RV after dark.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

[zerolympiustrife]

Something weird I’ve written from my phone while out of state, part 1

Once upon a time, there was a blonde, messy-haired 18-year old boy that went to college. He originally did not have plans to go to college, but his parents felt like it’d be better suited for him to go anyways. The boy in question was very sweet and kind to everybody he came across, treating them with the upmost polite and upbeat respect. This caught the attention of a lot of students and teachers, and the reactions he received were...surprisingly, mixed. Some folks liked him for his personality, while others seemed to despise him, thinking his so-called “kindness” is actually a facade in an attempt to be a kiss-up to the adults. But, regardless of these responses, this boy was quick to grab the attention of nearly everybody on the entire campus.

A pair of twins, one that was fat and the other that was skinny, both approached the lad with minor blushes on their face. The boy slightly tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow upon seeing them, as if he was either confused or pondering to himself.

“Hi! We’re twins!” Said the girls simultaneously. “We think you’re cute! Can you be our boyfriend?”

“You’re twins?” The boy asked. “...Oh! I get it now! The reasons you are fat and you are skinny is to make sure that nobody would confuse one for the other! That’s very creative!” The boy stated cheerfully. To say that the two took offense upon hearing this was an understatement, as the fat twin immediately punched the boy in the face, thinking that his “that’s very creative!” remark was stated out of sarcasm. The twins then walked away from him, glaring at him for his response. The boy was holding his face in pain, injured and confused from why the fat twin suddenly punched him.

Suddenly, a black-haired, neatly dressed boy walked over to him and offered to help him up. The blonde boy saw his hand and accepted his offer, as he was lifted off of the ground.

“A floor is something we humans walk on. Not rest on.” The black-haired boy stated. “Comfort is what we feel from a bed. Such a thing is something the floor cannot grant.”

“That, it is! Thank you for helping me, by the way.” The blonde replied.

“Gratitude is always accepting, kindness as well. Unfortunately, those big students over there do not seem to agree with such a method.” The black-haired boy stated, pointing over to a bunch of bullies picking on a girl, who had messy, blonde pigtails.

“Leave me alone, you stupid assholes!” The girl screamed, punching one of the bullies across the face and elbowing one in the groin. She then proceeded to grab another bully and slammed him onto the table, face-first, then grabbed another one by her legs, and swung her ‘round and ‘round until she let go, sending her flying right into a trash bin.

The blonde boy’s eyes widen upon seeing the girl do such a bold move, slowly felt something rise from his pants.

“By the way, Nier I am. It’s pronounced the same way as the word ‘here’. To meet you is pleasurable.” Said the black-hair boy, lending out a hand. However, the blonde boy who has yet to introduce himself, was too distracted by how not only was the blonde girl beautiful, but also really strong. The “rise” from his pants started to bigger and bigger, to the point of drawing the attention of a lot of student around him. Everybody immediately started giggling and pointing at his “sausage”, to the point where some students jokingly decided to call him “Boner Boy”. Nier, heading the students call him such a name, smiled as he decided to grab the blonde boy’s hand by force and shake him from there. “Everybody likes you, seems like. Bone Err Boy, was it? An odd middle name ‘Err’ is, but one to talk, I am not. Full name mine is Nier Deh Eth.” Nier stated, still smiling.

“Alright, you arrogant little wench! You’re staying after curfew to clean up the mess hall as punishment!” A teacher yelled.

“Whatever.” The blonde girl replied sneeringly.

“(Oh no! How am I gonna get to know and hang out with her if she’ll be staying after curfew?)” ‘Bone’ thought to himself. Suddenly, an idea hatched up on his not so bright brain. ‘Bone’ cleared his throat and spoke to the angry teacher.

“Excuse me, ma’am! I too would like to stay after curfew and clean up the mess hall with that awesome woman!” ‘Bone’ stated proudly. This declaration was met with mixed reactions from the other students and teachers, especially from the blonde girl, who slowly blushed upon hearing him call her “awesome”.

“(...He thinks I’m awesome...?)” The blonde girl slowly thought, smiling.

“She’s the one who picked a fight with those bullies. She could’ve easily chosen to ignore them, but instead, she chose to resort to violence. This is HER fault, therefore SHE has take punishment, and not you.” The teacher stated, pointing at the blonde girl. ‘Bone’ drooped down in defeat, but then started to hatch a VERY stupid idea.

“Then you! Look like a big dumb %*#^*%.” ‘Bone’ replied proudly.

As if time had suddenly came to a halt in place, every student and teacher shotgunned their eyes towards the blonde boy, as they couldn’t believe such a word that escaped from his mouth. The teacher he was speaking to looked like she was about to have a heart attack, as her jaw hit the floor in great and powerful horror. Even Nier and the blonde girl were shocked to hear such an insult.

“My ears! My poor fragile ears! A virginity, my ears used to have, have now been stolen by language of foulness!” Nier screamed, holding his ears in pain.

The teacher ‘Bone’ spoke back to in such a shocking manner immediately fainted onto the floor, with her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

To be continued...

[goldman64schneider-blog]

Meet Kamala Harris, Which Could possibly Come to be The Very first Girl President.

http://agnes-recommande.info obtain individuals mentioning to me regularly that my 'job' - indicating blog writing as well as instagramming, looks a lot fun and they wish they might perform it. Well to start with, it is actually certainly not specifically a work, I indicate, I would mention you need to be earning a minimum of base pay (do not even get me started on living wage) prior to you may profess that as your 'em ployment'. Practically, it was actually a continuation of the brave relationship of the early globe, coupled with the importance on feeling usual to the Intimate Age. Seeing him do this, when I devoted my nights and weekend breaks at that bar, actually got me interested about individuals as well as just how they function and exactly how he was performing exactly what he was carrying out, because that felt like an incredibly electrical power to me, to become capable to take care of individuals. They determined to turn the garbage lot ground into a park ... a park with recreation spaces, seats as well as ball fields ... a location to celebrate lifestyle and also revitalization vs. death as well as decay. Know precisely what sort of person you would like to meet THIS time and also know your deal-breakers. One means is through cultivating a reputabled Band from Bro within our congregation that fulfill routinely 'to perform lifestyle together'. You apply the BRILLIANT standards to any kind of objective you prefer to obtain and if that does certainly not fulfill some of the five attributes you clear up as well as adjust it until that performs. This voids and also decreases your friend or relative's RA pain-- a thoughtless point to perform. The belief from pain depends upon a range from variables, including our overall health. That being stated, meeting a skin specialist on a regular basis could be good for your friend as well as their general therapy program. People in the seaside neighborhoods are actually certainly mosting likely to suit up in different ways than the people that live in Bel Air, or Hollywood, or even Silver Pond. Do exactly what you may to remove the urges of the high carbohydrate, reduced nutrition foods in the house as well as points will definitely begin to transform a lot better. There are actually lots of folks which aren't Christians who may, by some standard, be thought about better folks than some Christians. I checked out every thing folks must say, become aware of illustration, tarnishing etc and also intended to toss the assistance out the window given that I yearned for that look. Like just about anything, the more you involve your own self into a subject as well as border yourself by individuals which are actually passionate and enthusiastic concerning a subject matter, the even more this abrades on you. There's so much to perform that you will certainly not be actually bored or unhappy getting on your very own (and also it is actually effortless to encounter folks there as well). Ladies live their lives online: carrying out research, seeing TELEVISION programs, and consulting with buddies at the same time. Eligible 'Listed below's to Huge Bear' as well as 'Below is actually to Twinkle', the 2 movies center around a team of four close friends and also the switches that seal their relationship. Despite the amount of attempt you put into it, that's still inescapable for some folks to dislike just what you're referring to. Therefore get out certainly there, create a system for subsequenting that you will definitely make use of consistently, and find some individuals. So amazed along with http://agnes-recommande.info , Yousafzai welcomed her friend to attend the Nobel Tranquility Reward ceremony with her in Norway in December, together with 3 various other young supporters, Opportunity disclosed. Additionally, this article is going to detail a number of the toxic pals you have to remove ASAP. Beginning along with the book of Origin and finishing with the book. from Revelation the Holy bible refers a history of God's participation with his people. The higher visibility as well as openness from the internet and social networks has actually implied there are extra options and also tools compared to in the past which are offered in order to help you satisfy a personality, effective political leader, movie superstar, or any individual else.

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[healthbetold]

The Legacy of a Civil Rights Icon’s Vegetarian Cookbook

Adrian Miller, the author of Black Smoke: African American and the United States by Barbecue, recalls how holidays like Juneteenth always meant celebrating with food for his family. “We went to the public festivities in the Five Points neighborhood, Denver’s historic Black neighborhood. At these events, the food celebrated was grilled, usually pork ribs, huge smoked turkey legs, watermelon, and red drinks. ”

For many black Americans, barbecue and soul food mean victory. Cooking techniques passed down through the generations testify to the strength and persistence of black culture and cuisine. But with the celebration comes the consideration of the health effects of meat, sugar, and fat. In parallel with the Soulfood narrative, there’s another story that links nutrition with liberation, and one that features an unlikely hero: a prominent black comedian whose 1974 book full of plant-based recipes has influenced black diets to this day.

My darling copy of the book. Shea Peters for Gastro Obscura

I grew up on Dick Gregory’s Natural Diet for Folks Who Eat: Cookin ‘With Mother Nature in my Memphis home. I even took it with me for my first semester at Tennessee State University. The campus was surrounded by fast food and soul food restaurants, and I used Gregory’s book many times for nutritional advice. I also made recipes from his website, such as the “Nutcracker Sweet”, a fruit smoothie made from a mixture known today as almond milk. Today, many years later, I live in Brooklyn and still consult the book. The same copy that I saw for the first time on my mother’s bookshelf – with the cover depicting Gregor’s head with a huge chef’s hat with fruit and vegetables – now stands alone.

Now considered one of the greatest stand-up comedians in history, Dick Gregory was shot up after appearing on The Tonight Show with Jack Paar in 1961, a segment that almost never happened. Gregory initially turned down the opportunity because the show allowed black entertainers to perform but not sit on Parr’s couch for interviews. After his refusal, Parr called Gregory personally to invite him for an interview on the Tonight Show’s couch. His performance was groundbreaking: “It was the first time that white America got to hear a black person not as an actor, but as a person,” Gregory said later in an interview.

Gregory was particularly adept at using humor to present the black experience at a time of heightened tension and divisions in the United States. During a performance early in his career, he quipped, “Segregation isn’t all bad. Have you ever heard of a collision in which people were injured in the back of the bus? “

Gregory speaking to a crowd in Washington DC in 1963. Michael Ochs Archive / Getty Images

“He had the ability to make us laugh when we were probably crying,” said US agent and civil rights activist John Lewis in an interview following Gregory’s death in 2017. “He had the ability to answer the whole question of race, Racial segregation, and just racial discrimination where people can come together and deal with it and not try to hide it under the American rug. “

But Gregory didn’t just fight racial inequality in comedy clubs. He also used his voice to campaign for civil rights at protests and rallies. After Gregory held a rally with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had directed, he developed a relationship with King. (Gregory’s close ties to leaders like King and Mississippi activist Medgar Evers eventually led him to be a target of FBI surveillance.) “Freedom Summer” from 1964 and after a rally on the last night of the Selma March Montgomery in 1965.

For Gregory, who became a vegetarian in 1965, food and nutrition were inseparable from civil rights. “The philosophy of nonviolence that I developed during my involvement in the civil rights movement of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. learned, was initially responsible for changing my diet, ”he writes in his book. “I had the feeling that the commandment ‘You shall not kill’ applied to people not only in their dealings with one another – war, lynching, assassination, murder and the like – but also in their practice of killing animals for food or for sport . “

Gregory with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. after the comedian won the 1963 Southern Christian Leadership Conference Merit Award. African American Newspapers / Gado / Getty Images

In Dick Gregory’s Natural Diet, he combines black liberation with health, nutrition and basic human rights. Gregory knew all too well the socio-economic barriers to healthy eating: growing up poor in St. Louis, he had limited access to fresh fruits and vegetables. In his book, he states that readers may not always have the best resources, but they may have the best information. Each chapter serves as both a hunt group and a manual, and offers everything from basics about the human body to lists of foods that are good sources of certain vitamins and minerals.

Thanks to Gregory’s longstanding collaboration with nutritionist Dr. Alvenia Fulton offers the book healthy recipes as well as natural remedies for common ailments. In the chapter “Mother Nature Medicare” you will find recipes from party food (“golden shower”) to headache cures (a mixture of tomato, celery and onion juice). For those looking to gain weight or lose weight, the Dick Gregorys Weight-On / Weight-Off Natural Diet chapter includes dairy-free milk recipes and weekly meal plans.

Gregory’s culinary contributions are not just a footnote in his already eventful life, but have made up a large part of his legacy. Cliff Notez, a musician and multimedia artist from Boston, has been vegan for four years and represents much of Dick Gregory’s philosophy. “I think he’s definitely one of the few black intellectual writers who is frank [spoke] about veganism, vegetarianism, ”says Notez.

Gregory with Dr. Alvenia Fulton, one of his nutritionists. Bettmann / Getty Images

Although a lot has changed since 1974, there are still barriers to a healthy, plant-based lifestyle. As Notez points out, “inner-city communities can make it harder to become vegan” due to persistent food deserts. Meeting these challenges is a new generation of black culinary leaders who carry on Gregory’s legacy of empowerment through education. As the head chef at the Museum of the African Diaspora in San Francisco, Bryant Terry directs programs that focus on the intersection of food, poverty and activism. A celebrated chef who has published several vegan cookbooks, Terry also cites Gregory as a strong influence. In an interview with the AARP, he described Dick Gregory’s Natural Diet as “one of those groundbreaking texts that inspired me to think more about these topics and to invest in my personal health and wellbeing.”

Eating has always meant more than just health. “Food plays a very important role,” says Adrian Miller. “Eating food is something we all have in common that helps create a welcoming space where people can come together and have difficult conversations.” Dick Gregory knew that food had the power to fuel change. In his book Dick Gregory’s Political Primer, he writes: “I have personally seen in recent years how purity of diet and purity of thought are interrelated. And if Americans really care about the purity of the food that gets into their personal system when they learn to eat right, we can expect profound changes in that nation’s social and political system. The two systems are inseparable. “

Dick Gregory died in August 2017, but amateur chefs can still celebrate his legacy by preparing one of the recipes from his book. Here are two of my favorites.

Nature’s champagne is just as elegant as real champagne. Madelynne Ross for Gastro Obscura

Nature’s champagne

Adapted from Dick Gregory’s Natural Diet: Cookin ‘With Mother Nature

Makes 1 liter

3 cups of pineapple juice 1 cup of cucumber juice (see how to make cucumber juice here) 1 teaspoon agave syrup (simple syrup can be substituted here) 1 teaspoon of orange juice Ginger ale

Put the juices and syrup in a shaker with ice cubes. Shake the mixture, then strain the liquid into a glass over crushed or pelleted ice. Stock up on ginger beer for a tangy alternative to champagne or alcoholic beverages.

Gregory’s recipe “Always in the Soup” is refreshing and hearty. Madelynne Ross for Gastro Obscura

Dick Gregory is always in the soup of the Health Power Uplift

Adapted from Dick Gregory’s Natural Diet: Cookin ‘With Mother Nature

2 medium-sized tomatoes, sliced 1 cucumber, sliced 1 medium-sized pumpkin, diced (e.g. kabocha, honey nut, butternut), without seeds 1 bunch of kale (spinach can be substituted) 1 bell pepper, diced (yellow or orange) 1 avocado, sliced 1 small onion, diced 2 cloves of garlic (you can cut whole or thinly) 1-2 cups of filtered water (add one and then see how watery your soup is after mixing) 2 tablespoons of honey

Mix the ingredients thoroughly in a blender or food processor. It can be served cold or warm.

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[ohmygillygoshoppler]

I’m having a lot of fun writing this chapter. Writing about Heaven and the angels is probably one of my favorite things to write, I love the world of the angels. I’m gonna have to write more of these!

The Imundii Spire was a structure located Near the coast of Silverwall, about a forty minute walk from her new home on the pier. It was almost as grand as structure as the Argent spire, towering over the sea and it's home on the rocks; A pillar of sandy colored granite and emerald stone. The plateau looked like it peered out beyond infinity, far beyond what the ocean would allow. It was everything Ophelia imagined it would be, and more; spectacular, a marvel to witness for oneself. The way it's at the edge, right on the edge of the ocean, right beneath the lighthouse; it looked like a castle from a fairytale. It was like a dream really, and now she was going through the deed of making that dream come true. All she had to do was walk right to the front doors, and begin her journey to the Stars.

Right through that front door...

Taking a deep breath, Ophelia began to make her way up the worn and weathered steps. The enormous Imundii, the pillar of knowledge, of Science and Technology, towered above her, making her feel so small. She thought about how everyone else was so small compared to this effigy, and that fact made her more comfortable. She looked around and saw faces unfamiliar to her, which was strange given the fact that almost every angel in the City looked exactly alike. These were names and faces she had never seen before having never left her City. The eagerness of meeting all these people made her stomach swell. Social anxiety also did the same, only this felt like more of a bloating sensation than actual joy. There were four guards stationed outside of the front door, all holding onto long, gleaming rapiers, which was also strange. What were armed guards doing at a library? Didn't they have anything better to do with their valuable time?

Why was the royal guard concerned in protecting an Angelic facility solely dedicated to scientific research? Perhaps an angel of great importance was visiting today. Maybe they were on guard because they had nothing better to do. Or maybe they were sent here to keep an eye out for her; to watch out for the Renegade Ophelia and see if they can convince her to come back home. Maybe Raphael was in.

"Excuse me sir," the young girl called up from a dozen steps below them. "Do any of you know if Lady Bastet is in today? I was sent for her."

The guards, wearing their typical gleaming uniform and heavy helms, must have known who she was, for the identified her by name. The guards clapped a fist to their hearts and bowed their heads. The only man not wearing a helm of any sort addressed her.

"Yes of course, Lady Ophelia," he replied, extending a gloved hand down towards her as his three comrades went to go and open the doors for her. "She should be in her office, at the very top of the Spire , in the observatory. It's a direct flight upstairs."

Politely, Ophelia took the guard's hand and bowed her head. "Thank you, sir." She said with a clap on the soldier's back as she stepped on inside.

Now the Imundii looked a lot larger on the inside than it was on the outside. The floors and walls were paved of the finest gold, which reflected everything from the ceiling to the passing feet that squandered by. The windows, which ranged greatly in size and height, were made entirely from stained glass that one could find in a cathedral. As a matter of fact, the glass was probably made here, from the sand pits in the rock quarries just outside of this tiny town. Ophelia thought to question about that later on.

Curled wings stretched out and gently cast the angel upward toward the spire's peak. On her way up, she noted the similar architecture to that of the Argent Spire, how the library itself revolved around a winding staircase leading to the top. A few other angels all flew about, each one a female of dark skin and dark hair. Angels in the city only ever had white hair! The only other angels Opi had ever seen with any other color hair were Marci, Rose, and Idella. But even still, they were all so fair; the women here were a large contrast to that, sporting deep olive toned or mahogany skin, the diversity of this place was incredible.

She landed on a small jade platform hovering just on top of the lab's landing. The lab was a small, cozy space swathed in a somber golden and bronze color by the amber windows and noon bright sunlight. A simple two-story flat with a short staircase that spiraled around the huge cluster of golden globes in the center. That piece alone was the centerpiece from the entire room, setting directly beneath a ray of golden sun. Planetary models, moon models, star maps and comet charts practically hung from all across the expansive ceiling, which happened to open up to a glass-dome stargazing room! Right where the telescope should be! And the Brazier for the Lighthouse was being tended to by a tall, skinny man in long white robes. There were cats everywhere!

Cats everywhere~

The grinding and clanking of the gears and plates below the globes was rhythmical, relaxing almost. It was all around, in the walls, floor, and even a few up above. Those moved the mobiles and stars hanging from their respective wires. Ophelia also heard humming coming from behind the globe. She hurriedly made her way down the tiny flight of stairs, watching the mechanisms work through the glass floor, and came across the figure of a squat little old lady with a fat white cat in her arms, along with a few scrolls. She set them on the tabletop and giggled to herself, talking in a hushed voice to the cat.

"Now if Sahaquiel would just put his scrolls back when he finished reading them, I could die happy!" she heard the old lady mutter.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Ophelia started, hoping not to startle the little woman. "Do you happen to know where Lady Bastet is? I'm hoping to ask her about an apprenticeship, and I-"

The leathery little lady turned to face Ophelia, looking her over with eyes so small, so obstructed by winkles, she almost seemed to have no eyes. "Ha! You're lookin' at her! This is ol' Lady Bastet. You must be Ophelia, Aboddon's girl! I've been so eager to finally speak to you outside of letters! Oh, and look how beautiful you are! You look just like your father..."

She just met me and already I feel insulted. This will be a fine day indeed...

With surprising strength, Bastet grabbed a hold of Opi's gloved hand and shook it furiously. The white cat traversed the lady's broad shoulders and now sat atop them. Ophelia wondered how such a frail looking woman could have such a strong grip! (And support such a fat cat-) She knew Bastet was older than the rest, but she had no clue she'd be so... well... Angels typically didn't tend to age once they turned thirty, and didn't seem to age for a very long time after that. So an angel as worn and wrinkly as Bastet had to have been millions of years old! That's, like, waaay longer than any other angel's been alive! She may very well have been-

"Why, yes, I am of Aboddon's house, but not any more! I'm setting up shop here in Silverwall now! Right on the pier." Opi proudly declared, taking a moment to reassemble her thoughts and focus on the conversation.

"On the pier? You mean Jophiel's old studio? Well that's awfully kind of her to let you move in. Or did Azreal let you in? I know for a fact she let him in first- Don't you know how often that house gets flooded?"

Ophelia giggled. Bastet has a funny train of thought. "Actually, no, I don't. Although I am aware of the seasonal flooding. Pompeii gets a lot of rain, the sea swells, and Silverwall pays the price."

The old angel laughed as she stroked her cat's head. "True. Well come on in, make yourself comfortable. I'll pour us some tea."

Bastet set the cat on a table right beside the curve of the globe and shuffled off into the bookshelves. The cat then stretched, licked her paws for a moment, and curled back up on the tabletop. Ophelia took a moment to admire the office as she took a seat at the desk. She listened to Bastet clattering around in the hidden kitchenette. The bookshelves lined the areas of the wall in front of the machinery, ever taller to reach the ceiling opening up above. So many books, and they were the handwritten observations of the Angels of the Stars themselves. These were their findings throughout their lives of watching the heavens beyond our own. They had gone farther than any astronomer before, and the Kingdom of Heaven did so at an incredible age.

Bastet shuffled back into her office with a tray of teacups and a large black kettle that hung hung from a woven ring around the crook of her arm. She hooked a long stand of grey hair behind her ear as she spoke. "So you're here to ask about an apprenticeship with me? While I'm utterly flattered, you know that my daughter, Kokabiel is also a scholar, among other things. She regularly gives lectures here at the Spire." She proceeded to pour three cups of tea, one cup for the cat.* "She usually teaches the more juvenile youth of or area, but Silverwall is such a small community. Not a whole lot of families with children. Mostly old folks and workers, so not too many people have any interest in stargazing. Her classes are small."

"Oh, I know, my Lady. In the City, there weren't even astronomy classes! There was hardly nay science at all! Just engineering, military, mystics, medics and scribes. That's why I came out here." Opi said quietly, fiddling with the teacup in her hands. "Azreal told me there was only about twenty people living here when he was in town." she lifted her teacup to her lips. "What I wanted most was to learn more astrology and astrochemistry; My only interest is the cosmos, and the White City only has but a few things to teach. I still have many questions left unanswered, and I feel like this may be a way for me to just, dig a little deeper."

The elder angel sighed nostalgically. "Well, If you're already here, I want you to know that I'm taking a few of my personal belongings from his office, and I'm letting you move in. Whenever I give you an assignment or a project, this will be your workplace, as well as your study. Your own private office at Imundii. I thought you might like the telescope upstairs, so I have the keys to the hard light latch in my top desk drawer."

A sarcastic chuckle. "Oh, do you mean to tell me this is all mine now?" Opi inquired playfully as she set her cup on the table. She jumped when the man tending the Lighthouse brazier left, opening the loud, creaky door.

"Did I just stutter, child?" The elderly angel asked with a raspy laugh, sipping her tea. "I'm old. I've had enough of all this flying back and forth from my house to the spire, and back. I'm retiring, and I'm retiring my space. My daughter has her own office, her own telescope, and I have no other predecessors to give this place to. Plus, my cats seem to think you're nice, so I think I can trust you." she explained as she sat back in her chair and took a long drink of her tea.

Ophelia sat rigid. "Oh my God, you weren't lying." she clasped her hands together over her lips and pulled in a deep breath, nearly spilling her drink. "I'm sorry for swearing, but you can't be serious. All this space? All these books? Your cats? And the telescope?" she asked, not having realized that tears were gliding down her cheeks. "Your cats, though?! I just got here!"

Bastet smiled so much, her eyes nearly disappeared beneath her wrinkles. "If Mau likes you, then I like you." she said, stroking the white cat's long back. "Besides, I've spoken with some of your old teachers since we've been exchanging letters, including Raphael, and even he says you're a great person. You're clever, reflective, and full of potential. This is the perfect place for you, child. I will be teaching you privately in my home, but this is where you will do most of your research and major projects. And your reading. Did I mention the reading?"

"Oh, there was never a need to mention reading," she mumbled and wiped her cheeks." Forgive me for being so drastic, I'm just excitable!" Ophelia stopped talking when she looked on over to see the wrinkly old smile. A flush heated her cheeks and Ophelia sighed, trying to play it off.

Bastet giggled like a little girl. Something about the way she giggled sent a flush of a deeper crimson across Ophelia's face. The student sipped at her tea, trying to contain her excitement. Bastet's wrinkly little face curled into a tender smile.

"Besides, it's best a working woman has a place separate for her work from home. Work and Home tend to fuse together to make Mess."

She couldn't help but think about the teachings of Kokabiel downstairs. Ophelia had read a few passages on Kokabile at the Argent Spire, but little information was found other than the fact that she was a child of the Archon Bastet, and had fallen in love with science and the universe rather than her Codex. She asked Bastet if and where the Angel of the Stars would be teaching today, and was told that, "Her classroom is downstairs, on the ground floor. It's one of the first rooms to the left as you enter. You can't miss the great big blue door."

Excitement welled up in her guts as she walked around the ground floor, searching for that blue door. The white walls and the golden floor seemed to circumnavigate the enormous fountain within forever, but after about twenty minutes of searching, she found it. The enormous blue door, one that stretched almost as high as the ceiling-

And the doors were wide open.

The room was actually a music room, lighted in ambient white light that looked like it was coming from outside as well as inside. It was about that time for the sun to be it's most intense. The light cast all of the blue and white furniture throughout the room in brightness; the station where the orchestra would be seated; the blue pews of the choir; the cluster of blue and white robed teenagers gathered around the grand organ at the center of it all, one among them speaking in an older, all bathed in the shiny white light of the stainless windows.

"Sound waves are so beautiful to hear, my pupils, but imagine how beautiful they'd be to see with our eyes."

Ophelia glanced about, making sure she wouldn't get into trouble wandering into a class that wasn't hers, and stepped inside. She approached quietly from behind, so not to disturb anyone who was listening, and she listened in herself. There were a few young angels up in the windows as well, one with a large white guitar, another with a long pink lyar, and a young man in light armor. Minstrels. And a paladin? In the White City, you would never see a paladin- or a warrior of any kind- sitting near a bard! She watched them from below as she reached for her writing utensils in the knapsac at her side.

"Have any of you ever wondered why organ pipes have different lengths? I press a key," a high pitched squeal rang out through the room, making Opi flinch. "and it sends compressed air into a particular pipe, producing sound waves. Now, if we could slow down these sound waves a couple hundred times, they'd sound much, much different."

She pressed another key, playing a much deeper tune than the first. Only this time, as the sound came spilling out of the pipes up ahead, the entire room rippled. The waves from the pipes actually emanated all around the room. The younger students gasped and marveled in awe at the sight, as did Ophelia. Impulsively, she began taking notes. She heard laughter from up above her, in the rafters. More young men and women in light armor, bearing the same colors as the paladin the the window.

"The length of the pipe determines the length of the sound wave that can fit inside of it. A short pipe gives you a short sound, whereas a long pipe gives you a long sound. Short sound waves have a high pitch, or frequency," Again, she pressed a key, playing another high pitched squeal. The sound waves bounced from here to there all across the expanse of the beautiful abbey. it was a little disorienting to watch. The more noise people made, the more distorted things looked. It got to the point where Ophelia could no longer make out the text she had written in her notes.

"Let's stop this wave here to get a better look." Quickly, Kokabiel stopped and brought her hands out before her, stopping a small part of the ripple from moving. Ophelia tried to see what was happening behind the more taller classmates. The spell warped the images of her waist and hands, and all the sound waves suddenly stopped in the middle of their paths to the ears. "The distance between adjacent waves is called a wavelength. Longer pipes give you a longer sound wave, with a lower pitch, or low frequency."

It seemed as though the scholar was growing irritated by all of the chaotic waves, so with a flurry of comical and frantic swatting, the magic sound waves vanished from sight, the magic dispelled.

"Thank you. Now, notice how far and how fast these waves have traveled during the duration of this note. Sound waves can't travel through a vacuum, like in outer space, they need matter to travel on, like molecules of air, water, and rock. Light waves, however, are different. They fly solo; and that, my children, is what we will be discussing today."

At this point, the other students were just now getting their notepads out at the ready as the live lecture began. The paladins in the rafters chatted among themselves, and the bards in the windows laughed, soon disappearing with their armored friend out the window. Ophelia had been writing everything down. "Light waves can move through empty space, and they can move fast. Over a million time faster than sound waves. And the wave lengths of the light we see, are so much shorter than sound waves, about fifty-thousand light waves could fit right in here," Kokabiel held her pointer finger about a hair higher than her thumb and let all of the children get a good look. Some giggled, others squinted, as if trying to see the tiny waves of light with their own eyes.

"Just as the wave length of sound determines the pitch we hear, the wave length of light determines what colors you and I see. Prisms, or the glass fixtures of light-bending science, change and manipulate that light. Prisms spread out the white light we see to reveal all of the colors that make up that white light."

A young man raised his hand above his head and Kokabiel pointed to him. "But how can a prism spread out the colors concealed in a beam of sunlight?"

"Fantastic question, Andell, I'm so glad you asked!" Now, she pulled a small crystal out from her robe pocket and held it high up into the light. On the marble floor below, the entire rainbow could be seen perfectly. "You see, when light travels through air or space, all of the colors move at the same speed. But, when it hits glass at an angle, the light slows down and each wave changes direction. Inside the prism, each color moves at a different speed. In glass, violet light, which is carried by the shortest waves, slows down more than red light, which has the longest wave length. These changes in speed help pry these colors apart, sending the waves off in slightly different directions. That, my pupils, is how a prism works."

"You are witnessing Astrophysics; the birth of my own field of science, and the sciences you will all come to understand, hopefully, by the time these next few terms are over. Written in light, the vertical black lines between one and every color, within one and every color, are a secret code."

Hushed murmurs arose from the cluster of students. Now, Ophelia had no intention of coming here to hear a lecture of the the properties of light and sound, but she was already so engaged, there was no way she could tear her attentions away. Well, that, and she had never heard anything about hidden codes in the light. That was some food for thought.

"When I first saw this phenomenon through my telescope, I wondered why. A code, it comes to us from an alien universe. I wondered, what is this message written in the dark vertical lines. Little did I know that it would take a hundred years of research, questioning, and need only experimentation to decipher it. There are many layers to the fine structure of beauty. Like the chemistry of our planet, and its atmosphere. Many distinct threads, allow me to examine one, at the utmost surface: The colors of nature that dazzle us. What's really happening? Let's take a look a bit deeper into the colors that we see and the codes within."

As Kokabiel went on about this subject, Opi heard the Clock Tower start to go off. It was chiming ten. Oh no, the Boys! I'm still moving! I have to get back home!

Ophelia ghosted out of that classroom as quickly as dignity would permit. The flight from the Imundii to her new home was a short one, but somehow those young Paladins made it possible to get everything delivered in less than three trips. Ophelia apologized to the group for getting sidetracked on this most tedious task. They said it was no problem, though, and had spent some time enjoying the scenery. Made her day much easier.

*phew* That was a long one. Hope I didn’t bore you all!

[johnmanciniwrites]

Mod Style

Kinds of Parallel Modifiers, Pt. 2

There are four types of parallel modifiers in the writer’s toolbox. I’ve written about one: the appositive. So what about the other three?

As I mentioned in the post on style and voice, if you “like” a writer you probably like the way they say things more than what they actually say. In other words:  the sound of the language, i.e. their voice. The way a writer creates that voice is through their use of stylistic elements, and parallel form is one element that will help a writer achieve a sophisticated style.

Think of modifiers as aftermarket parts for your sentences. They’ll give them a more comfortable ride and make them sound better than your basic factory model.

Repeat a grammatical pattern to create rhythm (parallel structure) and then ratchet up the sophistication of the sentence with an appositive, a resumptive, a summative or free modifier.

Resumptive

A resumptive modifier resumes a thought where you last left off by repeating a word and saying something else about it.

At last I stared upstream where only the deepest violet remained of the cloud, a cloud so high its underbelly still glowed feeble color reflected from a hidden sky lighted in turn by a sun halfway to China.

                                                                  --Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

What else can be said about that cloud? A lot, evidently. It depends on how far one is willing to push a thought or observation—in this case, all the way to China. 

Politicians also love resumptives:

I look forward to a bright future for America, a future in which our country will match its military strength with our moral restraint, its wealth with our wisdom, its power with our purpose.

                                                                       --John F. Kennedy

Public speakers love them because the repetition helps audiences grasp and remember the point. It also helps the speaker remember their speech. Notice the nice series of three parallel phrases that will define JFK’s proposed bright future strength/restraint, wealth/wisdom, power/purpose. They work in tandem with the resumptive, helping to drive home the argument.

They are useful in persuasive writing:

A real danger in this digital revolution is the potential it holds for dividing society, a society that will divide into two camps, the techno-elite and the techno-peasants, a society where a “wired” few will prosper at the expense of the masses.

--From Daniel Kies’ “Some Stylistic Features of Business and Technical Writing”

From literary essays to political speeches to plain old professional writing, resumptive modifiers help emphasize the point you want to make. In this case, to reveal more about this society with a double resumptive modifier.

Here are two more examples of resumptives used in fiction.

She told me all of it, waking me that night when I had gone to sleep listening to the wind in the trees and against the house, a wind so strong that I had to shut all but the lee windows, and still the house cooled; told it to me in such detail and so clearly that now, when she had driven the car to Florida, I remember it all as though I had been a passenger in the front seat, or even at the wheel.

                                                                       --Andre Dubus, “A Father’s Story”

But God she was beautiful, beautiful beyond anything he had ever seen or thought to see, five feet ten inches tall, a hundred and fifty-five pounds of rock-solid muscle cut to ribbons and perfectly symmetrical: sixteen-and-a-half-inch calves, tiny, almost delicate wrists, knees, and ankles, and a twenty-four-inch waist that had an abdominal wall unlike he had ever seen on any athlete, man or woman, showing as it did six distinct layered rows of muscle under skin utterly without subcutaneous fat, the finely toned rows of muscle starting in her solar plexus and ending where her richly furred pubic hair grew at the base of her belly.

                                                                       --Harry Crews, Body

By repeating a word you draw attention to it. This adds emphasis to the point you are trying to make, enhances the substance with style. And the great thing about repetition is it is inherently musical. It creates rhythm, and rhythm is seductive. 

Summative 

Summative modifiers act just as the others do, usually triggered by commas or dashes, sometimes as fragments. The difference is that they tend to summarize the entire clause.

In the last twenty years, the world has moved from the industrial age to the information age, a sociological event that will change forever the way we work and think.

           --From Kies’ “Some Stylistic Features of Business and Technical Writing”

One feels that she ought to be sticking round, ministering to her husband, conferring with the cook, feeding the cat, combing and brushing the Pomeranian – in a word, staying put.

                                                     --From P.G. Wodehouse’s Right Ho, Jeeves

His velour pullover is open to his sternum, and the exposed chest is precisely the complexion of new Play-Doh, the substance from which Gunther sometimes seems to be made.

                                                 --From Ralph Lombreglia’s “Men Under Water”

That last one is not a summative modifier. While “the substance from which…” does arrive at the end of the sentence, it doesn’t sum up the entire clause but only modifies “Play-Doh.” It’s technically an appositive, or free modifier. The terms are mainly for professors. The modifiers all behave the same way. They just appear in different forms. That brings up the final type: the free modifier. Free to float—watch it slide. It’s slippery.

Free

Socrates questioned the foundations of political behavior, forcing Athenians to examine duty they owed the state, encouraging youth to question the authority of their elders, claiming all the while that he wanted only to puzzle out the truth.

                                                             --From Will Durant’s “Story of Philosophy”

How grateful they were for the coffee, she looking up at him, tremulous, her lips pecking at the cup, he blessing the coffee as it went down her.  

                                                          – John Updike, Rabbit, Run

Not because we work in the plants ourselves – our work, like God, is everywhere and nowhere – but because this is where reality is, the life and labor of the folk, the source of all art.

                                                           -- Ralph Lombreglia, “Men Under Water”

And over the grass at the roadside, a land turtle crawled, turning aside for nothing, dragging his high-domed shell over the grass.

                                                           --John Steinbeck Grapes of Wrath

To achieve a higher aesthetic and sonic experience in writing, to strengthen the style, rhythm, complexity, and specificity of your sentences, make use of parallel modifiers. Just as the “rule of thirds” applies in photography and pictorial composition, three is the magic number. There is just something pleasant about lists of three. By eliminating linking verbs (is, are, was) as well as relative pronouns (that, which) you can enhance the sophistication and brevity of style.

Here’s one final example. This paragraph from William Least-Heat Moon’s Blue Highways uses a combination of several of the modifiers mentioned. Have a look...

Beware thoughts that come in the night. They aren’t turned properly; they come in askew, free of sense and restriction, deriving from the most remote of sources. Take the idea of February 17, a day of cancelled expectations, the day I learned my job teaching English was finished because of declining enrollment at the college, the day I called my wife from whom I’d been separated for nine months to give her the news, the day she let slip about her “friend” – Rick or Dick or Chick. Something like that.

[adlunametadastra]

What is Sexy?

Earlier this morning, I was having somewhat of a conversation with someone whom I enjoy talking to. The topic of “sexy” was presented, as in he referred to me as being such. I rebuffed that notion on the grounds that, well, as I told him, what I see as sexy in my mind is most likely very different from both his and the overall conventional ideal. Let me explain.

To Me...Sexy is Femininity. 

Femininity, to me, is a state of mind in which a female who identifies as such thoroughly and genuinely enjoys being a female. They enjoy being feminine. They enjoy engaging in feminine type activities such as primping (hair, makeup, skin, mani/pedi, etc.), dressing to suit their body type, and overall just being a woman, sexual power and all.

While I do in fact identify with my sex, female from birth, I...have ZERO of these things!! For one, wearing “sexy” clothing will trigger a panic attack. It always has. Second, I have zero patience for primping beyond basic hygiene and maintenance such as putting on deodorant, brushing my teeth/washing my face, and otherwise making sure that I look human before I leave the house. 

Sexy...is a State of Mind.

It is in fact a state of mind, however one identifies, that spurs the confidence and belief in one’s sex appeal/physical attractiveness. For instance, if you have self confidence, you want to treat yourself well, from working out regularly, eating right, and dressing well. You want the world to see you how you see yourself. Me? While I 100% focus on eating right and being active regularly...I have the ability to dress well, but not the motivation. And yes, I need to be motivated by some external factor. Otherwise, I can leave my domicile in footie pajamas, a cap, and a jacket and not give ONE SINGLE FUCK about what anyone thinks about it, or me. 

In other words, my state of mind doesn’t align with the notion of a handsome man (such as the one I was talking to this morning) thinking of and seeing me as...sexy. It befuddles and bewilders me with more often than not provoking a response of incredulity. Put simply, I never have, I still don’t, and likely never will believe a man telling me that he thinks I am “sexy” when I have never seen myself that way and still don’t to this very day. It’s not meant to be deprecating, but rather bluntly honest. I just don’t, and won’t ever, see myself as sexy.

Sexy is...Knowing Your Sexual Self.

Well I mean, this is self explanatory. I turned another year old today and, in the back of my mind there’s an ongoing list consistently reading off a list of “never have I evers”, from kissing, to holding hands, to sex (and all manners/variants of it), to receiving flowers/gifts, to even being told that I’m beautiful...which is another point.

I FIND ABSOLUTELY NO VALUE IN BEING TOLD THAT I AM “SEXY”. I have no real connection to this concept so therefore, this means absolutely nothing to me. Not one thing. Sexy is...a person enjoying who they are, wholly, and to the fullest, and in a way that is attracting to their intended audience, as it were. Maybe this can be blamed on my conditioning growing up, because I was never ever told, not even by my own parents, that I was beautiful. It was always “wise”, “smart”, “timid”, “stubborn”, “difficult”, “crazy” (I refused to do what I was told. Ever.), and otherwise treated as if beauty, even if not in the conventional sense, wasn’t something that would ever be applicable to me. Add on to the fact that I was always (and I do mean ALWAYS) the ugly fat dorky friend whom boys would use to get to my prettier friends, and yeah, this slowly but surely helped shape my psyche into something that just didn’t, and wouldn’t ever, believe that I could or would be seen as sexy, desirable, pretty, beautiful, hell even a human being that exists on the same plane as others, unless it was for the purposes of a joke or, as previously mentioned, tricked into feeling like i was just so they could get to my friends. 

Now...onto What is Sexy to Me.

I grew up watching martial arts movies and action/adventure movies that honestly influenced the archaeologist that I am today. From Double Impact, Kickboxer, and Lionheart (all starring Jean-Claude Van Damme), to Indiana Jones movies and The Mummy series with Brendan Fraser, I wanted to travel the world, be able to kick some serious ass, do what Indy did/does and get paid for it just like he did, but with my own little twist.

Then...the show Xena: Warrior Princess entered into my life, and suddenly, my views on what is sexy evolved.

Now, I had this naturally 5′11 Woman, who had raven dark hair, pale blue eyes, a real woman’s body (including thighs that touch), and there she was, kicking ass. Xena mastered every weapon that men knew how to use, from her fists, to the Bo staff (seen here), to the sword, and her whip, but she also had weapons of her own distinction, such as her chakram, her “pinch”, and...her womanly appearance and beauty which were often played to her advantage. In my fragile state, here was this tv icon who showed me that women who were smart, clever, cunning, resourceful, strong (physically and mentally), capable, and self sufficient were not only just as good as men, but better. And it was THAT concept that equated, in my mind, to a kind of beauty that couldn’t be replicated in conventionality.

So...What Exactly Makes Me Feel Sexy?

Here I am, in my mid 30s, fully accepting of the notion that primping doesn’t make me feel sexy, but practicing my Bo Staff does. Getting my hair & nails done don’t make me feel sexy (but the process itself triggers my synesthesia which is a good thing overall), but learning how to use a sword does. Taking a martial arts course does. Knowing that I can make my own money, be completely self reliant, defend myself and others, and use my loud and unapologetic voice to speak up and out against shit that doesn’t sit well with me, whether socially, politically, or academically. I find that, despite my size, my ability to do yoga without falling over (lol!), my ability to fix my own toilet, that I can kick down a door, speak 4 languages (aside from English), and much more things (like getting myself out of sticky situations) to be sexy, because it represents PERSONAL POWER. AND I FIND POWER INSANELY AND STUPIDLY SEXY.

The fact remains that, while a lot of women (if not most) will primp, pamper, and otherwise soothe their egos in order to feel sexy and feminine, I would much rather have a long sweaty session of kickboxing or tae kwon do (with my wrists and knuckles wrapped) while listening to Daughtry, Eminem, and Panic! At the Disco. Instead of walking around in satin this, or silk that, I have a pair of plaid flannel pants with the matching top and some slippers because I get cold easily and need to be warm at all times. Feeling powerful and capable makes me feel sexy, not putting on makeup and jewelry and going for a night out on the town. Apologies, but if you handsome bastard happened to be suckered into wanting to date me, it will be your task to consistently make me feel physically, sexually, and emotionally desired. Otherwise, sexiness will never even cross my mind.

While I demand to be surrounded and wooed by men who are conventionally sexy/handsome/well groomed/well dressed/intelligent, et.c, like the one gif’ed here,

He will also have to be good (as in more than understanding) of the fact that I am not conventionally feminine, sexy, or even beautiful. I know about things that others aren’t even aware of, and due to being a synesthete, I literally see hear and feel the world differently than others do, so of course I will never be like other women. 

And that, folks, is quite alright with me.

[dwestfieldblog]

AFFIRMING YOUR BIAS

A DEFAULT MODE NETWORK

Apparently 100 seconds to midnight....not enough time to run to shelters, boil an egg or have sex, unless you are a rabbit. '2020'...One of those gathering years when conspiracies appear very real and laughing at the credulous takes a back-seat on the bus to seeing the utter plausibility of   paranoid imaginings. Logic looks coldly and clearly at  irrational fear and starts to doubt its own sanity. Ah ha, ha haa...

Brexit parties hard in London as we dance towards the 'golden age' that Boris has promised (and it is not as if he has ever lied or exaggerated about important things very often before). British Pride at its best, posters already up in the tower blocks ordering the foreigners to speak English. The Leavers seem unclear on the point that having given the EU an enema and left ourselves at the mercy of unbalanced American business deals to be signed over a barrel, (arf) we are also signed up to the  AIIB, the Ancient Illuminated...(ahem, excuse me) the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank. Well, wouldn't you rather be ordered about by China and lose your sovereignty to the Communist Party? The ones who harvest organs from the living, run concentration camps and massacre their own students. All the UK 'nationalist fascists' (those either in denial or proud of it) don't seem to mind that much, as long as Europe is not telling us what to do. 'We're gonna take back control of our borders'. Yeah right. Nice British compromise over Huawei eh? Meanwhile...

Reading about the Social Credit System in China and wondering how long before other more democratic countries take this idea up. Remembering Zappa in Joe's Garage dystopian album in 79, warning teens not, to do anything which could affect their parent's credit rating...well, in freer countries, the SCS could mean lack of access to various jobs, not being able to borrow money, less access to internet, limited acceptance into education, longer prison terms...Communists have a nice punishment for those who disagree with their philosophy...have them sacked, arrested for being unemployed and placed in one of those special detention centres for a 're-education'. The same excrement as has been since 'God' punished Adam and Eve for getting too smart. Do as you are told or else. Be quiet and obedient, listen and follow those in control regardless of whether they seem to be doing good work - and respect your betters especially if they are not. Calm down Dave, peak later.  

Speaking of which...Nice interview with a young British guy who used to belong to the Korean Friendship Association (just the North part) who was expelled last year for asking, during a visit to Cheese Boy's empire 'How come in a Socialist society, the leadership is passed from father to son'? This might seem like a very reasonable question but the bloke was booted out, accused of 'outrageous disrespect' And a 'Colonialist attitude'. Arf. I might well send a letter to the NK embassy in London and ask them if they could clarify this point.

Fnord.

My favourite WTF story for a while was the fascinating tale of an Ethical Vegan in London named Jordi (from Spain) who went to court to prove a claim against his former employers, The League Against Cruel Sports, after he said their pension fund had connections to companies involved with animal testing. They sacked him and he claimed discrimination due to his beliefs. His ideas on the absolute sanctity of animals include not travelling short distances on public transport...in case the bus squishes any birds or insects in its path. Or eating figs in case there are any larvae from wasps still in them. Banknotes which contain animal fat should not be handled. Guide dogs for the blind are offensive due to the exploitation of the animal in serving Humans. Wool, leather and silk are right out. Etc. He won the case. (Sanity is expected to appeal.) The judge ruled that the philosophy of ethical veganism merits the same respect as any religion. Well, why not eh? If folk can accept invisible sky wizards, talking snakes, a boat with all the animals of the world on it, burning bushes and virgins giving birth, why not make a philosophy out of yet another extreme? I will demand the right for pink fluffy unicorns to vote and a million march for mermaids. Oops...Well, flap, roll and flop...Great at fellatio..

At what point does an opinion become 'real'? When it is agreed upon by serious minds and turned into law? Or when focused thought is directed into possibility waves with Will and imagination. 'The magick of our science...' As of yet, there is no proof of a 'God' existing, but millions have died badly due to fervent belief in such and the opinions of clearly imbalanced humans through history.  Thumb sucking, security blanket clutching folk, desperate to justify their unsane behaviour by blaming it on a higher power. God/The Devil made me do it. Sure He did...The Goddess says think for yourself, harm none and do what you Will.

Politically incorrect boys and girls, need some Kuddles, True love falls to fly and rises to crawl, when I think about you I cut myself...Meanwhile again...back to the foul cesspool/ endless comic material of prime ministers and presidents...

'In Reality they are not after me they're after you. I'm just in the way'. No Donald, 'They' are for the people, they are just against you. Usually American presidents follow orders from the industrialist power brokering king makers who financed their campaigns, rather than taking advice and obeying orders from a Russian in Moscow. But that seems about the shape of the last four years. Perhaps Donald is in love with Vladmir, he does seem to admire strong men a little too much. Virtually everything the orange lunatic does in his childish attempts to undo anything Obama did, serves as the longest suck job in history. Someone has access to THAT video in the hotel...'Russia, if you're listening...' Stick it on you tube and give us a good laugh for a change. Nice to see Nancy ripping up the reality tv State of the Union address...(No Republicans, I'm not a Democrat or a Libertarian.)

'YOU CANNOT BE ACQUITTED IF YOU DON'T HAVE A TRIAL AND YOU DON'T HAVE A TRIAL IF YOU DON'T HAVE WITNESSES AND DOCUMENTATION'. Well said Mrs Pelosi.

Does this statement actually seem unreasonable to anyone other than The Duck's hardcore fanatics? The king is naked and a bare faced LIAR, rambling endless deflection and projection. Whenever he accuses someone else of something negative, he reveals the real subject is himself. Whenever he praises himself, his heart means the opposite. 'I am a very stable genius'. Said the deeply unbalanced moron. 'He's crazy, shifty, a liar, weak...' etc etc etc. Reptile, you know what you are. Feel it. But free now for revenge and re-election due to 'the silent, the pliable and the complicit.'

Donald has been spending a lot of time preying on praying Evangelicals and anti abortionists (a 'March for Life'). Smart political move. When such millions of folk are so easy to fool with bullturd, he knows he has a ready made multitude of gullible voters. All he needs to do is to 'align' with them and they are bent over, spread and puckered. (Reminds me of the Christians buying Constantine's shtick.)  Do you suckers really believe anyone who says they agree with you? Don't you expect some genuine display of compassion and peaceful behaviour rather than endless aggression, selfishness, petulance and greed? (I mean, if you are actually Christians who feel compassion and forgiveness and that none are beyond Redemption.) Rather than just hoisting placards which read 'Not Your Body, Not Your Choice'. From this I infer that the actual females behind and under these, follow the opinion that God (who gave us free will, if you follow this stuff) has amendments which state Free will is sacred. Except in the cases of abortion and....fill in the blanks with deeply held opinions.  

This teenager was raped by her aids carrying junkie uncle...and must have the baby? That sounds nice and Christian (or any other major religion). From my very first blog sixteen years ago I have been endlessly ranting the same dammed thing...it seems a genuine shame that those who would call themselves religious cannot be a little more HOLY and decent. Rather than foaming at the mouth like wild eyed, hate filled fundamentalist swine. (He writes, teeth grinding and himself stabbing the keyboard in impotent rage). Pretending to be 'religious' is a nice pastime for the guilty.  

Another placard showed a picture of Trump with the words. 'Most Pro Life President Ever'. Do none of these young women at the rallies see any irony in supporting a man who boasts of grabbing pussies and that he 'would hit on' his daughter if she wasn't his? Does he really seem to be FOR life and the dignity of females to you? Women are supposed to have a little more instinctual intelligence than men. (Or is that imposing gender roles? Arf.) Shame on you for being so easy to manipulate. 'Easy to fool people when they are fooling themselves'.  

'A part of religion is about direct experience of the divine and the rest is just crowd control'. John Cleese (JC)

And I Love the way the fascists/populists financed by the Kremlin on all sides bang on about the 'Liberal Elite'. I have never seen or heard of such people. The Liberals in Democracies have always seemed to be fairly well meaning, goodhearted but overwhelmingly weak apologetic folk. Not very much like a power elite running the world behind the scenes in the 'Deep State'. Farage in the UK after the recent election, having lost most of his seats by not running against the Tories (hoping for a chair at the Big Table) crowed about having 'destroyed' the Liberals in England. I could have done that with a cynical stand up routine and and a flick of my little finger. On my left hand. Not exactly Thanos Nigel...(But then, I am not Bill Hicks eh?)

And so...Atlas Shrugged, Heraclitus burped, Putin raised an eyebrow and his entire government resigned. (Boris promised a 'New Dawn' for Great Britain. Well, he would, wouldn't he?) I truly enjoyed the annual press conference with Putin, where Bald head was asked what he thought of Johnson's previous comments that he resembled Dobby the House Elf from Harry Potter by replying; 'People say one thing when they are trying to get into power and something else when they are in power'. Just for a couple of seconds I had a sense of respect for this clarity of honesty.

Meanwhile Johnson (whose party received a good old amount of Roubles last year) and (bald head No.2) Cummings have begun their master campaign...Things don't look good for the BBC for reporting the news and asking uncomfortable questions. The Constitution of Britain and the balancing powers of Parliament are under threat too, as are various Human Rights Laws. Good old Tories, still the Nasty Party. 'Imagine what this country could be in ten year's time'. Boris, I am.  

And bloody Momentum still don't want to let go of their type of 'leadership' yet...even after their Useful Idiot/Strawman puppet Jeremy lost the North. Damn right, English people tend not to vote for those who sympathise with actual terrorists. Unless.... Oops...Insert smiley face here. And a Bosh of a skeleton breastfeeding a priest, just lie back and think of England...this won't hurt a bit. It will hurt a lot.

Step by step as Boris and Trump surgically carve away various rights and laws which impede them from furthering their power and break up unions of friendship among the West as Russia and China watch with the dead eyed smiles of sharks. Hmm..

'Constitutions are utterly worthless to restrain the tyranny of governments, unless it be understood that the people will compel the government to remain within constitutional limits. Practically speaking, no government knows any limits to its power except the endurance of the people.'  Spooner

Most, but not all of you people are being used by those who understand your psychology. You do not. You are only a means to end, to achieve and maintain power for them. Serving those who see you only as units of measurable force for them to direct. And you seem to love it. Vicariously enervated in righteousness and dumb enough to admire your intelligence in following those you believe will empower and free you. They don't, they won't. Never have and never will, as the song said. Sleepwalking, marching in a deep state of hypnosis into a slaughterhouse.  

Some of us are trying to improve on communication, connection, empathy, random acts of kindness, respect for ones self, sisters, brothers, planet. Experimenting with techniques of mind expansion, using the mirrors of science and art, maintaining a good sense of humour, watching our belief systems for signs of cruelty and stupidity, and admitting when we behave like idiots, humble but not humiliated.

For all the religious fundamentalists, politically correct and political extremists against any attempt at evolving, due to fear or greed, I strongly, almost violently suggest this: CRAWL ON YOUR BELLIES BACK INTO THE OCEANS AND LET THE REST OF US MAKE THIS PLANET SOMEWHERE GOOD TO LIVE AGAIN.

Not important how long I live, more a case of how much I enjoy being alive and whether I can help others while I am here. Hope to see you in the springtime.  

RIP forever in intelligence and fine humour Neil Peart and Terry (He's not the messiah, he's a very naughty boy) Jones.

'What's hit is history

What's missed is mystery

And the miraculous image  

Of sound washed ashore'

J. Balance/Coil

Despite outward appearances, it is not unrealistic to be optimistic...

LOVE.