#hoping these guys will save me from terrible horrors of art block

[heartscrypt]

link click is an anime about a normal girl and her gay little freak foster brother and nothing bad happens to either of them ever

[stray-kids-react]

Polaroid

Han x Fem. Reader Soulmate au

Warnings - Swearing, mentions of sex, and Fluff that'll make you cry.

Masterlist

...

Y/n's pov, November 27 2020

My mother once told me that I will know when I'm in love, she never specified what hints will cross my path... She just said I'll know.

As a young adult now, sharing an apartment with my close friend Yeji. I'm starting to become impatient with this whole game of love, why can't I just get told who is my perfect match. I'm so tired of having my hopes risen up and then crashed down onto my heart... Breaking it each time.

"Any plans today?" Yeji asked from the kitchen, making me cringe at the word plans.

I just was still recovering from a terrible break up, where I caught the supposedly love of my life slurping the life out of his assistants pussy. I won't forget the feeling of my heart completely stopping for a few seconds, as my mind told me to run and not look back.

"Yes actually, I have a date with Netflix and the leftovers in the fridge." I replied, slyly smirking as she stared at me like a worried mother.

"Well Netflix isn't going to have to wait for his turn. Because I have this guy who is really interested you and is a total sweetheart." She sighed, showing me a photo of the guy she was trying to set me up with.

"Yeah... No." I replied, beginning to retreat back to my room.

"Y/n! JISUNG TOLD ME!" Yeji announced, catching my attention from the front of my bedroom door.

"I-it's still a no Yeji." I whimpered, shutting the door harshly behind me as she sighed in defeat.

Yeji's pov

She needs to get out of this place, it's been two weeks now. All over a guy she barely even knew, I know the true reason she is hiding and she will never admit it.

Y/n is scared to see his face again, our best friend Han Jisung. The best friend that she happened to fall in love with, and moved away from after she got accepted into the university of her dreams.

They were never just best friends in anyone's eyes, not even there own. Yet they both tried to fill in the whole in their heart with other people, never realizing that all they had to do was just say three difficult words.

Y/n was in a hurry to find her perfect partner after I found mine, the man next door with the matching tattoo on his wrist. Your tattoo shows up when you are over the age of 19 and are near your soulmate, it shows up on your wrist, neck, or shoulder blade.

She didn't want to see Jisung in case that tattoo never came, they both wouldn't be able to handle the realization. But it is a part of life, and I'm not going to let my best friends live alone when they could have a chance to be in love and happy.

Han wanted to see us both while he was visiting the city, even though he knew the risk of utter devastation. That fake profile was just a set up so that she would finally meet up with Han, and she probably already knew about my plans.

I walked up to her door cautiously, gently brushing my knuckles against her door.

"Y/n... I know why you are actually upset."

Y/n pov

"Because of Han Jisung." I answered, brushing past the old childhood photos saved on my phone.

"I know that's what you were going to say Yeji, and you're right. I know I won't be able to take it if the guy I love isn't the one for me, and that all of those nights alone with him that are coded into my brain are worthless. I'm scared Yeji, I'm scared that I won't be able to think of most of my life without tearing up." I explained, as she plopped down on my bed next to me.

"You're fear will just get worse until you find out, you'll never know the result until you actually try." She replied, placing my head on her shoulder for comfort.

I let out a shaky breath as a couple tears streamed down my cheeks, she was right as usual. But I still needed at least one day to prepare myself.

"Fine, but let me rest today. I'm not going to fancy restraint with puffy eyes and bed head." I remarked, watching as a sly smile spread across her lips.

She slowly began to exit my bedroom, delighted that she finally got her way with me. Not even explaining who that fake date even was, probably just a random guy from Google. It was 11:30 at night, and all of my crying really wore the energy out of my body and mind.

So eventually sleep crossed paths with my mind and hooked up, completely losing consciousness as my memories flashed like a polaroid camera.

December 15th 2018

"I can't believe we're graduating this year, seems like we only started high school yesterday." Jisung sighed, carrying both of our bags while walking home together.

"Don't worry quokka, you'll still carry my bags for me even after high school." I teased, pinching the reddened skin of his cheeks.

"Oh very funny, and you'll still put crackers in your mouth and pretend to be a walrus." He remarked dodging the snowball that came his way.

He set my bags down on my front yard as he gathered his own army of cold fluff balls. I tackled him to the ground as we both drowned the silence in laughter, I traced my frosted mittens across his face. Gently crossing his lips as he brushed the snow chunks from my hair.

The close warmth of his breath against my face sent my heart into a frenzy, I secretly craved the closeness of him... But I never wanted to admit it in case I'd lose him.

His now glossed lips looked so kiss able, the way they pouted as he focused on my hair. And how they stretched into a warm smile that left a fuzzy feeling in my heart for years, made it only harder to stop myself from interlocking them with mine.

"I better get going bun bun. I'll see you tomorrow at school though." Jisung reassured, lightly booping my nose as he left his trail from my snowy front yard. Waving one last time to catch my attention as I was at the front door.

"Farewell loser!" He shouted, showing off that bright smile of his.

"Farewell to you as well, asshole!" I retorted, giggling as I walked into my empty house all alone.

November 28th 2020

Y/n pov

"Wake up! Time for bubble tea!" Yeji screamed, jumping on top of me as she consistently hit me with my own pillows.

"I thought we were meeting Jisung later." I sighed, looking at the red numbers of my alarm clock reading 7:30am.

"Yes we are, but I want bubble tea and to talk with you about some stuff I found out." Yeji replied, pulling me out of bed to soon push me into the washroom.

I complied to her excited energy, understanding it is pretty exciting for her.

The steaming water swallowed every inch of my skin, blocking out all of the noises outside. Only leaving me and the blank wall to stare at, droplets of water racing against each other. A flash of the mirror and sunlight clashing, sending the flash of a polaroid to my memories.

August 16th 2018

Yeji squealed as her boyfriend threw her into the pool, soon joining her in a large cannonball jump. All of his friends danced around with liquor drenching their breath, as their bodies clashed together in ways they didn't fully understand.

It wasn't my style of fun, it instead gave me a wave of fear and stress. Not recognizing any of these people, while they danced around half naked. Yeji's boyfriend decided that she had enough fun for one night, and took her home to rest.

I hurriedly gathered my belongings and rushed out the door, just as excited and horny shouts came from the pool. I was okay to walk home alone, it felt nice to be surrounded my silence for once. Even if my conscious tortured me about every bad possibility.

"Need a drive home party animal?" a familiar voice called from across the road, that voice of the man who has always had my back.

"I'd actually really like that." I replied, feeling a wave of comfort when I entered the car.

"I can tell your a bit freaked out." He sighed, throwing his bad into the backseat.

"That party was just... A lot. A lot more than I expected." I whimpered, still a bit overwhelmed from the experience.

"How about you stay at my place for the night. We'll even watch some American horror story..." Jisung suggested, even though he was shit terrified of anything remotely scary.

"I'm holding you to it quokka." I giggled, slapping his thigh teasingly.

We drove to his home as the car filled with a random playlist of songs, one landing on my favorite 'Turning Page'.

"I didn't know you liked this song." I commented, blushing softly at the tone of the song.

"I want this to be the song that represents me and my soulmate. It sounds cheesy, but it's true." He revealed, glancing my way as the car stopped in the from of his home.

The whole topic of soulmates use to be humorous to me, remembering when me and Han drew matching docks on our palms as 'our' symbol. Even taking a polaroid photo of the amazing art we drew, I still have it in my phone case.

Then it hit me, how much it would hurt to see him destined with someone other then me. That moment when he glanced back into my eyes with a shy smile, is when I admitted to myself for falling madly in love with my best friend.

November 28th 2020

I walked along the streets of our home town, hanging my mask off my chin when sipping my bubble tea.

"You know what's crazy." Yeji started, catching my focus immediately.

"I remember the moment you started crushing on Jisung. You didn't even have to tell me, I already knew." She admitted, gazing at me with only a soft warmth in her eyes.

"It was obvious by how many photos you had of him and you on your wall, and the way you looked at him as if he were your dream person." She continued, texting something on her phone that I couldn't quite see.

"Or how when he caught you staring he'd reply with 'take a picture it'll last longer'... And you always did to get revenge. I will never forget the day I saw you two as more then best friends, that was the same day when I bought you that polaroid camera for Christmas. " She replied, taking a short break as her hands nervously fidgeted with her skirt.

"That's why I want a 'thank you' later on." She mumbled, before running off and leaving me completely stunned on the bench.

"Y/n..."

September 14th 2018

"It's crazy that this is your last day here." I sighed, trying my best not to cry.

He nodded trying to smile the pain away like me, but soon caving in once his arms met my body. I nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hoping I could capture his scent one last time.

"I'll still visit. I can't cope without seeing your face, asshole." He chuckled lightly, sniffling quietly when he retracted his arms away.

He stared at my features for a few long seconds, as if he was contemplating on doing something. Jisung shook his head, smiling brightly once more as he pulled me into one last hug.

As he put his palm on the door knob, I shouted his name one last time. Running across the room towards him, he turned around immediately dropping his bangs on the ground.

He instantly knew what I was going to do, since his lips molded with mine without one ounce of hesitation. His hands lost in my hair, pulling me closer and closer until there was no space between us. Jisung's lips were so much sweeter and softer then any other kiss I've had.

The sweetness was sprinkled with the salty taste of our mixed tears. Only creating more as the kiss began to end, both of us realizing we should've told each other so much sooner.

"I love you." We both sighed at the same time, smiling sadly at the bittersweet sting in our hearts.

November 28th 2020

"Jisung..." I gasped, turning around quickly to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"W-wow... You've really. Wow." He stuttered, cautiously inching closer towards me.

"You too." I chuckled airily, swallowing back my tears. I missed him so much, but it hurt too much to see him at the same time.

"Y/n... I know it's been a while. But I honestly came here because I needed to see you. I still love you, and I don't care if we're soul mates or not. I'll sharpie our own symbol on us everyday if I have to." He revealed, grasping my hands between his own.

"I'm sorry that I was being so selfish." I sighed, caving into my own tears. Regretting my fears of seeing him again, feeling terrible for torturing him just as much as I tortured myself.

"We are both scared. It's not our fault, but I just want us to accept that things may not go our way. But that won't stop us from being together." He reassured, lightly brushing frosted his mitten across my features. Glossing over my lips gently, his eyes warm and gentle as they fluttered shut.

I molded into his kiss immediately, lacing my fingers through his silky hair. Soon pulling him closer to my so there was no space between us, making sure no one could try and ruin this moment for us.

His lips still were as sweet as the first time they molded into mine, and his fingertips could still make my legs give out by how gentle they were against my skin. Every emotion flashed through my mind, all my regrets, confidence, love, lust... It all flashed just like a...

"Polaroid." He gasped, tugging my palm next to his as the ink slowly traced the same picture into my palm. The picture of the camera that captured all the moments I treasured with my soulmate, the soulmate that was everything I could've asked for.

[pikapeppa]

Cullavellan & FenHawke pirate AU: Voice

Chapter 30 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3! Just the first section here; Read the whole thing on AO3 instead.

In which I resolve those cliffhangers from yesterday’s chapter. HA.

Wonderful art as always by our talented mastermind @schoute​!! Fun fact: this was the first piece of FenRynne pirate art I requested, and I’m thrilled to finally use it in the fiiiic!

- CULLEN -

Piper ran straight at the nearest pirate with an animalistic howl, and Cullen took a split second to be stunned by her chaotic attack before following her into the fray. Two other men were about to attack Piper while she was occupied with her foe, and Cullen parried one man’s blow before kicking the other in the hip, sending him sprawling before swinging back around to cut down the first man with a slash across the belly. 

As Cullen continued to fight, he tried to get a swift headcount of their enemies. There seemed to be… seven of them alive now, perhaps eight. Unfavourable odds, certainly, but it could be worse. Piper was jabbing and snarling at her foe like a rabid wildcat, and it was obvious to Cullen that the vehemency of her attack was throwing him off, particularly given her diminutive size. Fifteen paces away, Fenris was handling himself with the same silent and brutal efficiency that he’d displayed during sparring sessions on the deck: in the two seconds that Cullen spent watching him, he trapped a man against a tree with one arm to his neck, headbutted him, then stabbed him through the gut before spinning to block a blow from another foe who was just behind. 

He’s all right, Cullen thought, and he turned back to assist Piper instead. Her enemy was dead, and she was engaging two others with a boldness that was both admirable and terribly worrying, given that both men were almost twice her weight.

One of the men reached for his pistol. Cullen rushed him and slashed at his arm, causing the man to dodge away with a cry of shock. He tried to aim his pistol, but Cullen grabbed his outstretched arm and pulled him close, then elbowed him in the face before slicing him open from throat to hip.

He glanced at Piper once more, and his heart leapt into his throat. She was ten paces away, and she and her foe were on the ground, Piper scrabbling through the sand for her dropped épée while her sorely-injured foe shoved himself clumsily to his feet. As Cullen watched in horror, Piper’s enemy reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt.

Cullen bolted toward her. The pirate was dragging Piper back through the sand, and now he was hauling her to her feet and reaching for her throat with one large meaty hand… 

“No!” Cullen bellowed.

The man twitched in startlement and loosened his grip on Piper, and she spun around and slammed the heel of her hand into his nose. Then Cullen plowed into him in a hard tackle. 

They skidded painfully across the sand with Cullen on top. The pirate was gasping in agony from a wound in his side but still reaching for the dagger on his thigh–

Cullen grabbed the dagger and ruthlessly stabbed the blade into the side of the pirate’s throat. He pulled the dagger free, and the copious spurt of blood was accompanied by the man’s choking cry.

Cullen shoved himself to his feet and turned to Piper. She was glaring at the pirate, her chest heaving with angry breaths as she wiped some blood from her mouth. She spat a gobbet of bloody saliva on his body, then looked up at Cullen. “Come on,” she snapped. “Fen needs us.” She began running back toward Fenris, who was battling three men at once. 

Cullen hastily caught up to her. “Are you all right?” he shouted. 

“I’m fantastic,” she yelled back. “I bet I can kill more of them than you.”

Her smile was blood-tinged and angry and not at all reassuring. But before Cullen could say anything more, Piper looked past him at the treeline and slumped slightly. “Fenedhis lasa,” she complained. “More on the approach.” 

Cullen looked, and his heart sank into his stomach; six more men were approaching, and there were the three that Fenris was fighting, and – oh Maker’s breath, was that shouting he was hearing from up on the ship itself?

Piper stopped in her tracks when she heard the sound, and as Cullen watched, she seemed to swell with rage. “They’re on my ship?” she shrieked. 

Cullen reached for her hand. “Piper–”

She pulled her hand away and pointed her épée at the oncoming enemies. “We kill these assholes, then we destroy anyone who dared to set foot on the Lady Luck,” she snarled. Without another word, she bolted straight at the six incoming men, and Cullen ran after her. 

She flew into the enemies’ midst like a tornado, screeching like a banshee and jabbing her épée in a flurry of chaotic strikes as she reached for her flintlock, and the element of surprise gave her a clear second of advantage: she shot one man in the face and another in the belly before swinging the flintlock into another man’s jaw. Then one of the men grabbed her around the waist. 

She snarled and flailed wildly, inadvertently elbowing him in the face and forcing him to drop her, and Cullen swiftly joined her to control the fight, keeping the remaining men back as best he could. But the odds were clearly against them now. His muscles were starting to ache from every parry and thrust, and Piper was gasping for breath between curses, and Fenris was still fighting one of his three foes – a clear indication that he was getting fatigued himself.

Then three more men burst from the treeline.

Maker save us, Cullen thought in dismay. Then an arrow punched through one man’s chest. 

Cullen looked up in surprise. Varric and Dorian were approaching, and Dorian was reaching for a second arrow from the quiver at his hip. 

Varric felled Fenris’s final enemy with a crossbow bolt. Fenris looked up and nodded brusquely at Varric, then bolted toward the Lady Luck without a word. 

Varric looked over at Cullen. “Need a hand, Curly?” he shouted. 

“Absolutely,” Cullen called in relief. Within a few blessedly short minutes, most of their foes were dead with three making an escape back to the treeline, and no more were emerging from the forest. 

Cullen straightened and blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you,” he said fervently to Dorian and Varric. “I was concerned for a moment.”

“I wasn’t,” Piper said belligerently. “We would have had them. You hear that, you rotten sack of swine?” she yelled at a nearby dying man. “You were dead the second you dared to come anywhere near the Lady Luck.” She bent down and opened his throat with her dagger, then rose to her feet and started striding back to the rope ladder that they’d used to get down to the beach. “We need to get back to the ship. The crew–”

Cullen took her hand to stop her. “Piper, take a moment to breathe,” he begged.

She pulled away from him with a glare, and Varric held up his hands. “Cap, it’s under control,” he said quietly. “The bad guys were outnumbered on the deck. With Fenris up there now, I’d bet good money that none of them are left alive.” 

Piper took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Fine,” she said in a calmer tone. “But we still need to get up there. And I want to know who these bastards are,” she said with a vicious kick to the nearest enemy’s body. “No one is getting the jump on us again. We’ll be ready for them next time.”

“Of course we will,” Dorian said jovially. “And I’ll make sure to wear my crimson linen trousers from now on. It hides the blood spatter so much more effectively.”

Piper scoffed and punched his arm before leading the way back to the rope ladder. Dorian and Varric made idle jokes as they followed in Piper’s wake, but Cullen couldn’t find it in him to feel lighthearted, not when Piper was so upset. 

He picked up his pace and reached out to take her arm. “Piper–” 

She pulled her arm away. “Don’t,” she snapped.

He hastily moved his hand away, then peered at her carefully. Was she angry at him? “Piper, if there is something I have done…” 

She exhaled slowly, then gave him a serious look. “Not now, Golden Boy,” she said quietly. “My crew need me.” She started climbing up the rope ladder. 

Cullen’s heart squeezed at her dismissal, but he tried not to worry too much. She’d called him Golden Boy, after all, so that meant she couldn’t be too angry. 

At least that’s what he hoped it meant.

Read the rest on AO3, picking up from Fenris’s POV!

[sope-and-shine]

Christmas Special: Day 1

-> Pairing: Jin x Reader

-> Retail!AU ->Word Count: 2.5k ->Summary: Retail is a horror of it’s own, but the Holiday season is one of the messiest times of the year. -> Warnings: Mild Language, assault but not the sexual kind.

A/N: So this is day 1 of my 25 days of Christmas series! I wanted to give them all names, but I drew such a large blank that I really couldn’t think of anything at all. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

A/N/N: Only like half of this has been read before post because Admin Belle had to sleep and I wasn’t finished.

Retail is a horror of its own. Not everyone is able to handle the stress of a minimum wage job, going in for 40 hours a week - or more if you’re unlucky enough - just to have someone criticize everything you do and demand your attention even when they know you can’t give it. That’s not to say that everyone is terrible in retail, but the number of good customers never seem to outshine the bad customers. New customers are usually curious about your deals and how the store runs if they’ve never been or you’re not a chain store; that’s okay. Regulars may know you by your name or only remember your service and specifically want you and no one else will do. Some regulars may be demanding and will most likely try to threaten you with the loss of their business if you refuse to submit to them, but others will bring you food or a drink if they really like you enough. The latter of the two customers are always appreciated and well loved. However, no matter how well behaved or polite a customer may be, most of the time your smile will usually be forced and it’s like pulling teeth to get them to walk back out that door.

The only thing that ever seems to make it worth it are the people you work with. Everyone has at least one person they work with that makes the day go by in a flash, and some people have a whole team of people that make it bearable. 

You? 

Well, you have something like that.

The first coworker you really bonded with was your manager - the man that hired you - Kim Namjoon. He’s a really nice guy, a very intelligent man that you learned is actually studying to become a literature teacher at the University you go to across town. He introduced you to everyone and just helped to make you feel at home in the new environment. However, he was pretty intimidating during the interview process. If he hadn’t fumbled with his coffee cup enough to drop it on his shirt, you probably would’ve bombed your interview from the entirely.

Then you met the cashiers: Yoongi and Jimin. One a college sophomore majoring in music and the other a high school senior just trying to get some extra money before he goes to an arts college a few blocks away. Both of them are more on the quiet side, not ones to get excited or go out of their way to greet customers. So they try and stick to the counter where they only have to greet a customer if they’re ready to check out. Taehyung and Hoseok, on the other hand, were way more assertive than the other two. Hoseok - another college sophomore - always had a ‘compliment and stick’ kind of approach when it came to his customers. 

“Woah, your shoes are so cool! Where did you get them?” He’d approach them easily with a relaxed smile and try to make conversation first, easing the customer into his grasp. After he has them, he’ll slowly delve into things the customer might be interested in. “If you got them to play soccer, you should check out sweatpants that just went on sale! They’re super soft and really durable, I use them for dance! Let me show you.” After that, his customers almost always leave with 8 new items they didn’t need.

Taehyung himself isn’t as shifty as Hoseok when it comes to getting customers to buy. His method was easy, and it was almost stupid how well it worked. All he had to do was walk up to someone, say hi and introduce himself, ask what they’re looking for, and then direct. They’re not looking for anything? No problem, Taehyung has a solution. “You should take a look at our custom t-shirts, we just got a new shipment in of our best ones. They’re 70% off right now!” They leave with 10. Nobody is really sure how he does it, but he gets the job done. Then there was Jeongguk. Jeongguk is new just like you. In the months that the both of you have been with the other boys, he’s taken to working more as a stock person in the back than being on the floor. That, or he’ll join you, Jimin, and Yoongi at the registers when things get crazy. You’ve all found a good rhythm as a team, and it definitely makes your work days go by much faster when you’re all there. But there is one person that really just throws off your entire game.

Kim Seokjin.

Your assistant manager.

He’s a junior at the college with the other boys - besides Jimin, Tae, and Guk - with a tendency to crack a dad joke if you give him the chance. Not only that, but he’s tall, well-groomed, well-off, and very confident. It’s not like he’s a bad guy, he’s great! You love working with him, it’s just...he’s too god damn attractive! How are you supposed to do your job correctly when you have someone like him checking in to make sure your okay? He was the one to train you, so it only took you that much longer to really get settled into his presence.

It didn’t help that anytime you’d be working with him and he’d get close enough to get a reaction out of you, he’d tease you about it. “You’re a little red (Y/n), is something wrong? I’m not causing you discomfort, am I? Is my worldwide handsome face messing with you?” Always with a smirk and playful wink before he’d get back to the task at hand. 

Work is always something else…

This brings us to where we are now; The holiday season. A time where everyone is trying to buy gifts for others and do it as easily as possible. Some people start as early as July when the ‘Christmas in July’ sales start going around, others will start after Halloween has passed and the candy aisle is switched out for candy canes and christmas lights, and then there are the handful that forget Christmas is a holiday and race out at the last minute to give a gift, or to return whatever expensive purchase they made for themselves so they can find something small for everyone on their list for the year. In the months that you’ve been at the small store with the others, you’ve seen plenty of confrontations Yoongi and Jimin have had to carefully dissuade with or without Namjoon or Jin by their side. Most of the time, the customer would admit defeat and all would be well. There would always be the handful who Jin or Namjoon would hand out an extra coupon they keep in their pockets on occasion, but they were few and far between. You yourself never thought you’d have to deal with a customer like this with how well you and your fellow co workers explained the deals and how the store runs, but no one could have ever prepared you enough for the man you’d met today.

Your shift started out okay, opening the store with Yoongi and Joon. Hoseok and Jin would be coming in after their morning classes, and Tae, Jimin, and Guk would trickle in later in the afternoon. You had your normal rush of customers, sweeping and restocking shelves in between the various rushes of people. It was a nice pace compared to how other days could be, and you were actually feeling good about it. 

Save for two hours later when you’ve moved to behind the counter and the gentleman you’ve been hoping to never meet steps into your line.

“Good afternoon today, sir! Did you find everything oka-?” “I want to return this.” Your cheerful disposition is abruptly halted by his statement, blinking a few times to compose yourself again. “Sure thing! Do you have the receipt with you?”

“No, but I obviously got it here, so I want my money back.” He grunts. This man wasn’t even looking at you, too distracted by a game on his phone to notice how defeated you were becoming. This was the one part you had dreaded since applying to work here. Not interacting with people, not messing up on the phone, but having to tell a customer ‘no’. “I’m sorry sir, but without the receipt, I can’t give you a refund.”

This is the point where you’ve suddenly become a person to the man in front of you, enough that he looks away from his phone just long enough to roll his eyes and hopefully glare you into submission, “Look, little lady, I know the owner. Just give me my refund and I’ll be on my way.”

“Sir, I can’t distribute a refund to you if I don’t know how much you paid for your items.” You explains, as nice and as calm as possible. You liked your job, and if one wrong wording in this conversation gets you fired, you’ll actually cry.

At least you’ll cry if this guy doesn’t get to you first.

“Just give me full price then! Jesus, kid, don’t be stupid. Just do your job!” He demands. You have his full attention now, and you kinda wish he’d just go back to looking at you through his phone instead of the glare you’re getting. You can see Yoongi giving you a side glance from his register, his jaw tense trying to refrain from opening his mouth. He wasn’t new to assholes like this guy, but he wasn’t the best at handling these situations. His rude customers were the ones that usually got Jin and Joon’s special coupons. 

“What are you waiting for!?” In an instant, his hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s tugged you almost onto the counter top just so he can get into your face. His face is red, eyes open with anger. Your close enough to him now that you can almost see every pore on his face. That’s how close this man pulled you, and he doesn’t even care. “Give me the damn refund!”

“That’s enough!” All at once, almost faster than the customer had pulled you, you’re pulled away from the counter and behind a set of broad shoulders that you know all too well. Jin is furious, so much so that he’s holding onto the counter with a deadly grip with one hand. His other hand is too preoccupied holding yours in a tight grip, but not enough to harm you like the customer before him had done. “Sir, you cannot come into our store and manhandle our associates like that. If you can’t behave in a civil manner, then I will have to ask you to leave.”

“This bitch wo-” “Sir! I said if you can’t behave in a civil manner, then I will have to ask you to leave. This is a family friendly store, and we won’t tolerate behavior like yours.” Even in such a complicated situation, he was still very careful in his wording. Not even his anger would get in the way of his customer service.

The man glances around nervously, wary of all the eyes on him, “I want a refund.”

“And do you have the receipt?” Jin asks.

“Well, no I don’t but-” “Then you should know that without the receipt there’s no way for us to identify any of the items you’ve brought as items that you’ve purchased with us. Not to mention, there’s no way for us to know if these items were purchased at their full value or at a discounted price, and I cannot refund items without knowing their value.” Not a single beat was missed in his explanation, and it was obvious that’s what made him such a good assistant manager in situations like these. “And even if you did have the receipt, I wouldn’t hand you a penny from the floor after you’ve physically assaulted one of my employees! Take your business elsewhere for this holiday, because you will not be welcome back.”

“I know the owner! You can’t kick me out of this store if I bring you my business.” 

“I can and I will.” Jin says flatly, a small smirk on his face. “And if you know the owner so well, then why don’t you ask him if he’ll be my show this weekend, since my father is the owner of this store.”

The man’s face pales, the realization hitting him that he’s made a mistake. That one last piece was all it took for him to take his bag of things and leave with his imaginary tail between his legs. Some of the other customers even clapped and hollered as he made his exit - Taehyung would never admit it, but he started said claps with his customer as soon as the guy passed him. All in all, it was the worst 8 and a half minutes of your life, but Jin turning his attention to you kinda made it all worth it.

He waves Hoseok over to come and handle your register so he can take you back to the breakroom to check on you. “Are you okay? He didn’t actually hurt you, did he?” He asks, his hard glare that you’d seen replaced with a softer, more caring gaze. He takes your wrist in his hand and you can see the anger piling up again as he runs a soothing hand over the bruise forming around your wrist.

“I’m okay, Jin. Really.” You assure him. In all reality, your abdomen hurt from where it hit the counter earlier, and your wrist was a little tender from the man’s harsh grip. But you’d survive, and you really didn’t want the incident to keep coming back up. “I just want to get back to work and forget about that guy.”

“I should’ve moved sooner than I did. He shouldn’t have even had the chance to grab you.” You could see the gears in his head turning, running back through the situation once again to figure out what he could’ve done differently.

 “Nobody really expects for someone else to grab them, Jin. This wasn’t your fault, so don’t beat yourself up.” You place a hand on his arm, giving him a smile in hopes of him returning it. He ducks his head to avoid you, but you follow him and smile even bigger, “Think about it this way, you actually saved me in the end! Isn’t that a win?”

“Well, Prince Charming is supposed to save the princess~” He lets a smile slip, looking up to meet your gaze. 

“Now, hold on a minute, who said you were Prince Charming?”

“Me obviously.” 

You shake your head and let out a much needed sigh, “You’re ridiculous.”

“You know, the princess usually thanks the Prince with a gesture.” Jin says. He leans against the lockers on the wall like he were in a movie and reaches out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, “Maybe you’d want to come and see some Christmas Lights with me as a ‘thank you’?”

Now that was a surprise. Kim Seokjin wanted to go and see Christmas Lights with you? Even after you almost pissed yourself in front of him? Someone up there - or somewhere - was really looking out for you. If this Prince-like man wanted to take you to see some Christmas Lights as thanks for saving your ass, then who were you to deny him? After all, he could count this as his Christmas Present.

“Yeah, that sounds like a fair trade.”

[tessatechaitea]

Scarab #7

What a surreal cover. Babies don't have skeletons.

And here was my reply:

I don't blame him for blocking me. Twitter is a giant shithole where nobody should be spending any time at all and the block feature is all that makes it bearable. He probably couldn't see just how funny I was being about how boring his fact was because he was — inexplicably — fascinated with it! It was so boring that I'd already forgotten it the next day when I discovered Millar had blocked me! And since he blocked me, I couldn't see the tweet which I had responded to. Which worried me because I thought, "Damn. What kind of a dick was I being?!" But then my friend Doom Bunny took a screenshot of the boring fact and I was relieved. I read it and thought, "Oh yeah! My response was hilarious! That fact was so boring I'm going to forget about it again almost immediately!" I guess I should apologize to Mark Millar. But should I be sincere or should I do one of those wise-ass apologies where I say something like, "I'm sorry you were so thin-skinned that my totally hilarious joke on Hellspace...I mean Twitter hurt your stupid feelings." Or I could just go on living as I had been living where I never see anything Millar tweets anyway because I don't follow him and haven't cared about anything he's written since he did the whole Todd McFarlane thing and started having other people write Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass while still somehow taking all the credit. Some day in my reading of old issues, I'll get around to The Ultimates and then I'll remember this day! I remember loving that series back around the turn of the Millennium but oh boy will I give it what for this time around! I'm already remembering that it probably sucked! My brain is really terrible with remembering names and even words that I often know I want to use but have to reverse Google search them by looking up the definition to give me the word I can't come up with. So when I was trying to remember who wrote Spawn, I just couldn't come up with Todd McFarlane. So I Googled him and this is the picture Google decided was the fucking Platonic ideal of Todd McFarlane:

I believe I own zero comic books by Todd so this is the only chance I have to look at his picture and think, "Really? REALLY? No, no. But really?!"

You know who I blame for me thinking I'm funny when I'm probably just a huge Internet troll that's making life miserable for a ton of comic book creators? Fucking Gail Simone! Why did she have to have such a good sense of humor about my blog?! Now I expect that kind of good natured ability to laugh at oneself from all creators instead of this tired pretentious bullshit that their art is above making dick jokes about! I should get blocked by somebody on Twitter every few days! It really gives me something to write about! Apparently the "Scream Over Hiroshima" story isn't finished. I guess Scarab still has a chance to do something — anything! — before this is over.

Russians super excited that their pacifist weapon destroyed London and taught everybody that war is Hell.

British Madame Xanadu fills Scarab in on what's happening so he can stop the next Scream Over Hiroshima attack. Not that she's worried about it destroying Reykjavik. She's more worried about what it's going to do to the astral plane. And, well, we all know how important the astral plane is having spent all those years playing Dungeons & Dragons instead of jerking off some peer in the bushes outside of the junior high school cafeteria. The astral plane is like the connective tissue of all the other planes, like The Happy Hunting Ground and the Abyss and the Negative Plane and Acheron and Gehenna and all the elemental planes too! This Scream Over Hiroshima situation is dire! It's also a good idea for my next Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Louis isn't really worried about saving the astral plane. Remember, he's spent the last six issues not giving a shit about anything except saving Eleanor.

See? Exactly like that barn owl Madame Xanadu!

While Scarab begins to realize that Madame Xanadu (even the British version!) always gets her way because how can you prove she's not being totally honest and just manipulating you for her own ends unless you risk the entire world by not doing as she says, one of the Russian scientists begins to have doubts about their plans for world peace. He's suddenly gotten philosophical and he's all, "How many dead babies is world peace worth?!" And his assistant is all, "All of them, you idiot! Every single one! Because all of the new babies won't have to worry about war anymore!" And the one feeling doubts is all, "But why do we have to be responsible for killing all of the babies?!" And the other guy is all, "We're not responsible! Science is responsible! Fucking murderer! But, you know, a necessary murderer! Because science is important!" Then the other guy starts losing his doubts and he's all, "You're right! Science is important! Imagine not having toasters! I'd probably kill three or four babies just to make sure science created toasters!" And then the other guy is all, "That's the spirit! Let's kill more babies for world peace!" Just to be clear, I was paraphrasing the actual conversation in the comic book! I know it was probably hard to tell because I used the word "fucking" and discussed killing babies and since this is a Vertigo comic, those kinds of things are totally expected. Actually, the scientists never really have time to come to grips with what they're doing before the Russian General shoots them both in the face. His mind has been taken over by the Glory Boys which probably means the entire world is in some serious shit now. Scarab travels through the astral plane to arrive in Russia so he can stop the Glory Boys from destroying the world. It'll probably be the easiest fight of his life because I'm sure the Glory Boys simply want to die. Except Scarab fucks it all up and his kill shot on the General just knocks the General into the lever which fires up the Glory Boys and releases the Scream Over Hiroshima over Reykjavik. That's where all the world leaders are meeting for some summit. The whole purpose of the Scream is to hit them with their own abuse of power. So maybe Scarab fucking up is good. Fuck the politicians! I hope the Scream Over Hiroshima makes them feel as bad as I felt when I realized Mark Millar blocked me on Twitter! The Earth is fucked and Scarab couldn't help. The issue ends with two cosmic dudes walking out of the chaos to fix everything. They claim they're Bobby Dazzler and Benedict Creed. They're cosmic plumbers or something. They work for the Cosmic Coincidence Control Center. Sounds like some real Doom Patrol shit. Scarab #7 Rating: B-. Once again, Scarab doesn't do shit. He's mostly just an observer of the horrors of the cosmos. He didn't even have to be in this story! And it looks like he doesn't need to be in the next issue either because those cosmic plumbers are there to stop the astral plane from overflowing into our reality. Unless they're actually the bad guys and Scarab needs to punch them a few times!

[romancefreak]

Antisepticeye and Jacksepticeye: I Am Real Now

"Come on… Come on…I’ll defeat you Anti, I’ve got this guys, don’t worry!“ Jack shouted at the camera as he fiercely tapped the keys on his keyboard. At the moment, he was filming a livestream, and he was trying to take down the final boss of a wonderful fan game someone made for him, and the boss happened to be Antisepticeye. At the corner of his eyes he saw people were cheering him on in the chat. He smiled to himself as he thought about the amazing hype and rally behind his “dark self”, which commented on as he continued to fight in the game.

“I’ve watched the community go crazy over my teases and hints, making theories, drawing fan art, and–whoa, almost got hit there–and it’s amazing and beautiful how much this community bonds together–argh, he got me, but I t'ink I’ve got enough health I can get him in this next hit—so thank you guys for making things like this possible and for being so open to each other and making it so much fun. Almost… YES!” Jack punched his fist in the air as his sword gave the final blow, killing Anti as he disintegrated with a loud scream.

"HA! TOLD ya you’re a glitch bitch, Anti!” Jack laughed in triumph, smiling as he watched his avatar in the game release his friends out of the cages Anti had put them in. After watching the ending scene of the game and reading a heartfelt message from the developer, Jack smiled warmly at the camera, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Dude thank you so much for making this game. It means the world to me that you love the channel that much that you would take so much time and effort to make something like this. I appreciate it very much and I’m so happy to have played this. The story was really good, and it’s awesome that I get to battle Anti for the first time in a fan game. In the past it’s always been Billy, which of course I loved, but now Anti is in a fan game, which was really cool! And–”  

Suddenly, his lights flickered out, casting Jack in darkness, startling him.

"Whoa! Umm…. What the hell? What just happened? Hello? Who turned out the lights?” he asked, looking around his recording room. The only light that was on was the bright light of his computer and the steady blinking of the red light from his webcam. The only sound he heard was the cheerful music coming from the game, but even that seemed to have lowered. A small chill ran up Jack’s slender back, not liking the atmosphere of the room at all…. It had become eerily still….

“I think… maybe the lightbulb just blew…” Jack explained, trying to make best of the situation. He saw that people were already getting concerned in the chat, and he didn’t want to scare his community. He chuckled a bit, though it was clear in his voice he was a bit uneasy.

"Heh, what a...what a coincidental time for that to happen. Maybe it was Anti coming to say hi and–”

“Oh I have indeed, Jack…” A high pitched, but quiet voice suddenly whispered in the darkness, causing Jack’s heart to jump in his throat as his blood ran cold.

“Who the hell said that!?” Jack yelled, frantically looking around for the source of the voice. “Show yourself! Who’s there!?”

“I think you know EXACTLY who I am, Jack…” the voice said, much louder this time, sounding angrier. Suddenly a terrible screeching static noise sounded from his computer, making Jack cry out, throwing off his headphones and clapping his hands to his ears, trying to block it out. He turned white as a ghost as he saw a familiar face, a horrible, maniacal familiar face smiling evilly through the glitching screen…

"N-n-no…. It… It can’t be… You’re n-not real… You’re not real!” Jack cried out.  He reached for the power button, hoping that shutting it down would get rid of him. Suddenly a powerful glitching hand grabbed Jack’s arm, stopping him.  

“Oh, I’m very real, Jack… You, and your precious community you care soooooo deeply about MADE me, after all…” To Jack��s horror, the monster crawled out of the screen, the monster with dark green hair, black gages in his pointed ears, sharp teeth in an evil maniacal smile, and blood dripping from a horrid ragged cut on his pale throat. Antisepticeye.  Anti kicked Jack in the guts, sending him flying backwards and crashing into the wall behind him. Jack cried out in pain, feeling the wind get knocked out of him as his head throbbed from the impact, making him fall to his knees. Holding his stomach and gasping for air, he gazed at Anti with shock and terror.

"How...? How are you...!?" he tried to ask, wheezing and struggling to get air back in his lungs.    

"Alive? Real?" Anti chuckled deviously, smirking down at him, his voice ranging from deep and throaty to high pitched and bone-chilling. "I already told ya, Jack. You, Robin, and your oh-so precious little community created me. Like you said in your Kill Jacksepticeye video..." His eyes turned black as he glitched harder in front of Jack, blood dripping more from his throat as he mocked him."'I've kept control all this time... Nothing gets rid of me! I am eternal!'" He laughed with malice as he watched Jack struggle to get up.    

 "But...but you aren't supposed....to be actally real...."   

Anti laughed cruelly, bending down to sit on his haunches in front of Jack, resting his elbows on his knees. "Ah, that's the beauty of it all, Jackieboy.... You know the power of the community is strong. The same goes for their imagination. Both can be used for good, oh yeah." His eyes gleamed as his evil smile grew wider. "But it can also be used for not so nice things too. Ya see...As my popularity grew after your videos you and Robin worked on, fans have drawn me in various ways, wrote fan fiction of me, even cosplayed as me. And from there, I was born. I grew stronger and more powerful feeding off of their creativity, waiting for the time where I can be powerful enough to take physical form." He leaned in closer, smirking at his creator as he grabbed at his throat. "Ya see, Jack? They wanted this to happen! Your adoring community that claims to love you and support you want you dead and they want me to be real! And you continue to dig your own grave by feeding their precious theories dressing as me, acting as me..." His eyes gleamed as he squeezed Jack's throat harder. "BEING me."

Jack felt the color drain from his face, scratching at the demon's unexpectedly strong hands as he gasped for air, his heart pounding in his ears. "That's... not true.... The community isn't like that... They're not... They're not evil like you.... I'M not like you..."   

"No?" Anti cackled, lifting Jack in the air by the throat and throwing him into his gaming chair where glitching shadows suddenly wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles. "You call me evil. You call me a demon." He leaned in closer until Jack could see his terrified expression in the reflection of Anti's eyes, his voice dripping with venom. "But let me ask you this.... If I am evil, what does that say about you who created me in the first place?"   

Jack went even paler in the face, coughing and tearing up as he gulped air. What DID that say about him? He did enjoy teasing his fans with all the cryptic hints he and Robin would put all over the place, lighting the community on fire. He loved horror and Halloween which is often when Anti would appear. And he even liked playing as Anti sometimes. Does... Does that mean...? He shook his head then with vigor. No. Just because he did those things doesn't mean he was anything like this monster. He looked up at his dark ego with a defiant glare as he struggled against his bonds.

"For one, the fans chose me to look up to. I don't know why they do, because I'm just some guy from Ireland who loves video games and making people laugh and feel welcome. But I guess they like that about me, and I'm grateful to them for their support and love! And other thing, you were first created from fans as a joke but then the community, Robin and I expanded upon you and created you as antagonist for a story, to show good will always win over evil and you can conquer your demons, just like any storyteller would." He glared at Anti defiantly, pulling against his bonds harder than ever. "You're nothing more than our puppet, our glitch bitch!"

Anti slashed his claws against Jack's cheek, making him cry out as blood trailed freely down his pale skin. "Funny....I thought it was canon that you were MY puppet under MY control in your videos," he snarled, the evil smile gone from his face as anger flared in his black devilish eyes. "I'll show you who the bitch is here!" He grabbed the camera fiercely, bringing his glitching face to it, blood streaming from the cut in his neck.

"All those who are listening out there.... You really should have thought twice about creating me if you didn't want your beloved Jack to be harmed! So in the words you so dearly like to make me say... He grabbed Jack by the throat again, the most evil smile spreading across how glitching face. "If you want him back so badly, why don't YOU SAVE HIM!?" Suddenly Anti took a demonic looking shadowy figure , looming above Jack before plunging into Jack's mouth and eyes, possessing his body. For a moment, all was eerily still as the Livestream chat was screaming in text, crying out with no noise, helpless to do anything. Then, slowly, Jack's head lifted up, and his fans saw with horror that his eyes were streaming with bloody tears, his lips trembling, looking more terrified and helpless then they've ever seen him.

"G-guys...help me...." he whispered. Suddenly his eyes turned black and an evil smile spread across his face, Anti's distorted voice coming from Jack's mouth.

"You heard him.... Come help him... If you can.... This is my world now...." He cackled maniacally as he punched the camera, cracking the lense and glitching wildly. Then, the screen went blank as Jack's fans around the world panicked, screamed, cried, and/or sat frozen in fear and shock.

Jacksepticeye, their entertainer, their idol, their friend......was gone.

----

Soooo.... This was my first Antisepticeye fan fiction. I was kind of inspired by this line from BATIM Rap/Can't Be Erased by JT Music. "Call me a seed of evil but what's that mean if I'm conceived within your mind?" I mean, we helped create Anti...so....

Anyways I hope you guys like this creepy concept. I'd love to hear your thoughts! :)

[bastardtravel]

August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire.

After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as “Michael Jackson’s favorite grinder”, we were in dire need of respite.

Establishing a forward operating base was our first priority. For my part, I can sleep anywhere. My bonfire days in the Frozen North frequently necessitated pitching a $10 K-Mart tent over gravel, then drinking bottom-shelf whiskey until you didn’t realize you were sleeping in a puddle of rainwater and broken glass. That’s not a knack you lose. It’s like riding a bike. The Girl was always more discerning, and became doubly so after our experience in Phoenix with the inept criminal front halfway house hotel. We agreed that she can veto any of the lodgings I book. Sometimes, late at night, I’ll hold a flashlight under my chin and tell her spoOoOoky stories about hostels in Ireland.

She insisted on the airport Super 8. I was hoping to stay in a quaint deep woods motel called “Unsmiling Jed’s Sleepaway”, attached to sister business “Unsmiling Jed’s Discount Plastic Surgery Silo and Chili Kitchen”.

If I can’t protect it, I don’t deserve to have it. That goes double for life.

A friendly foreign woman checked us in at the Super 8, then proceeded into utter bafflement when I asked for a first aid kid. I chewed myself up pretty good climbing Bancroft’s Castle, and I’d spent the last half hour bleeding into an oily dog blanket to avoid ruining my upholstery. I’m pretty sure that’s how plagues start.

There were no band-aids here, or antiseptics, or possibly medicine as a concept. There was a three gallon tub of hand sanitizer. I thanked her for the offer but gently declined.

We went up to the third floor. The hallways were lined with people sitting on the carpet outside their rooms, shouting and smoking cigarettes. The room itself was clean and the air conditioning worked. All my boxes were checked. The bathroom reeked of weed, which some would interpret as a bonus. I scrubbed my wounds raw in the sink, tucked away the precious cargo of wine and peaches, and set out to investigate downtown Manchester.

Streetlight technology has not yet made its way to Manchester, so we spent twenty minutes missing exits in ocean-floor darkness. It looked worryingly like Wilkes-Barre, which is not where one would choose to vacation, were one sane.

Downtown erupted from nowhere like graphic pop-in on a video game running at its lowest resolution. One second you’re in leatherface country, with nothing breaking the abyssal darkness but the occasional half-broken Jiffy Lube sign. The next, you’re on vibrant neon market strip, replete with hipsters and the homeless.

We knew we had hit downtown proper when we passed by the “craft grilled cheese bistro”.

only programmers will understand!!!! like and reblog if u get it

Since I am an adult man, grilled cheese cannot be dinner. Both “gastropubs” we tried, despite their bitchin Greek mythology names, offered generic terrible burgers and a draft list that consisted of Coors Light.

“I’m so hungry,” the Girl told me. “I’m gonna die.”

“We all will,” I assured her. “Soon.”

Yelp claimed there was a brewery five blocks away. We walked off the only lit street, into absolute, encompassing blackness. It would’ve been spooky if I didn’t always kind of hope some Putty Patrol mook would lunge at me from the dark while I’m far away from home, having told no one where I’m going and left no paper trail.

There were no incidents. No one was murdered in self-defense. No one knows what we did last summer. The Stark Brewing Company was in the basement of a grim looking office complex, and it was vacant save for two other wanderers.

We sat at the bar and ordered a flight and an imperial stout. I was pushing for finding an actual restaurant, but the Girl ordered “Penne with vodka sauce”, which was not the right color, flavor, or texture to be anything but penne bolognese. The Girl didn’t seem to mind. I ate a pulled pork sandwich.

The beers were warm, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what the beers were, so long as they were beers. And not Coors Light. The brewery themed all of their beers off of dogs, for some reason, which I believe to be the ideal business model. According to the bartenders, the brewery had been open for 25 years, but hadn’t yet received their big boom. I was outraged. The beers were excellent, and would probably be even better if they weren’t room temperature, and the taps were not only named for specific dogs, but also provided pictures.

To say nothing of the bathroom, which was covered in sharpie beer lore.

The bartender and waitresses swore a lot more than you would normally expect in this context. The Girl maintains they were swearing at us. I disagreed.

“They were swearing <i>with</i> us,” I mansplained.

“We weren’t swearing,” she countered.

“But if we HAD been.”

As I’ve grown larger and more sinuous, I’ve tried to cut back on how often I cuss at strangers. Cultural relativism is the understanding that not everyone grew up among the coalcrackers, and good-natured oaths like “how the hell are you” or using the fuck-word as a conversational placeholder, while subjectively soothing, can set off fight-or-flight in the small, soft, and bourgeoisie.

I try to maintain direct proportionality between my barbarism and my well-heeledness. Neither the wait staff nor the other two customers shared my bond, and the middle-aged guy on my right proceeded to tell me how his hometown of Denver, Colorado is the greatest fuckin’ city in America, next to maybe Southern California. Which is not a city.

We talked about our homes and travels for a while, then I got my pulled pork sandwich and they left. The sandwich was slightly warmer than the beer, which beat the alternative.

An armada of children came into the bar.

“Oh, shit,” the woman tending bar said. They were visibly teenagers, and on the wrong side of it. They had that gangly awkwardness you get around fourteen or fifteen, and if they were trying to play it off, they were woefully bad at it. There were also nearly twenty of them. It looked like a field trip.

People in their twenties don’t travel in packs of more than six. It’s hard to transport a throng, unless you have a party bus, and why do you have a party bus when you’re twenty-eight? You’re twenty-eight and party buses have always been sad. Get a job. Also, it’s hard to get that many adults to agree on something.

It can be done. You can say, “Hey, adults, you want to do some drugs?” And in a sufficiently sized crowd, you’ll manage to pull twenty or so who will follow you to your house or whatever. This is called an “afterparty”. It doesn’t go to bars at 9pm.

Have you felt out the social zeitgeist recently? Look at a random handful of current memes and it’ll be pretty clear that most adults consider socialization to be a required burden, like paying emotional taxes. “Going out” is the price of living in a civilized society. You’re not going to scare up twenty people, then put them in a party bus, then take them to an abandoned bar half a mile outside of where the actual nightlife is.

“Hey, we’re just about to close,” the bartender said.

A reedy blonde in a top that seemed to consist mostly of straps screeched, “But your WEBSITE said you were open til ONE!”

Screeched.

The bar fell silent. Well, more silent. The Girl and I traded looks, her horror for my delight.

“Uhhhhhh,” the bartender said, but with excellent elocution, as though that were the word she had deliberately chosen. “Okay.”

They sat the itinerant mall food court in an enormous corner table, whereupon they requested shots.

The waitress who had sworn at/with us the least came back to the bar and said, “You guys said you were from Pennsylvania, right?”

We nodded.

“Can I see one of your licenses quick?”

She compared mine against the obviously fake ID one of the tweens had given her. After a moment she said, “Yeah, you can see, the font is different. And the picture looks like it’s photoshopped.”

“Yeah, no one’s license picture ever looks this good,” the Girl said, studying the fake ID.

“Except mine,” I added. They ignored me. I didn’t take it personally.

The waitresses disappeared into the back. Five minutes later, the only dude working at the place was gendered into being the bad cop. He sulked over to the teens.

“You guys gotta leave,” he said. “We know your ID’s fake. We’re not trying to get fined. You gotta go.”

For maximum accuracy, imagine this said in Toby’s voice from the Office. Shamefaced, the flash mob of children dispersed.

We paid for our room temperature beers and left the poor, foul-mouthed brewery to close at 9:30 on a Friday. The Girl and I accidentally stalked the battalion of teens through the street, but only because we were all moving back toward the only lights in the city, not unlike moths. They turned a corner and vanished, presumably to find an arcade or laser tag or some sort of large carousel.

The Girl and I followed the sounds of some obnoxious bros announcing, “It’s like a fahkin sketchy ally, dewd”.

It was, in fact, the least sketchy alley I’d ever been in. Cat Alley was the best lit venue in all of New Hampshire. It was clean and well-maintained, and it was covered less in graffiti and more in an outdoor art gallery dedicated to cats.

There were more, but they didn’t all warrant a picture.

Portland Pie Co loomed from the endless darkness like a beacon in the night, hearkening back to those days lost in Maine during the Great Lobster Drought of 2017. We split a bourbon barrel ale which did me in. It was bedtime.

On the way back, toward the end of the main drag, a man made of pure light rode by blasting EZ-Listenin from his Tron bicycle, also made of pure light.

I can’t prove he wasn’t Jesus.

Heartened, we returned to the hotel, where no one was smoking or yelling in the hallway anymore. Excellent.

Next stop, Portsmouth.

Love,

The Bastard

Into the Abyss August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire. After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as "Michael Jackson's favorite grinder", we were in dire need of respite.

[thewanderingjack]

End of the year: The long read.

Grab a coffee/glass of wine, a mince pie and a slice of cake. I make no apologies for the length of this. It's approaching the end of the actual year, and as always, I get a little reflective. Conscious of how this process started back in January with my curiosity leading me down paths I never knew existed and then running with the idea. Determined.  I’ve just read Paul Coelho’s Alchemist, along with several other books I’ve been meaning to read like Conan Doyle’s ‘The Lost World’ and an interesting book about India’s forgotten borderlands. ‘The Alchemist’ resonated in so many ways and reminded me of the importance of seizing the day and of instinct and following that path, I’m no religious guy but there’s certainly something to be said for following those omens and listening to them to explore what lies ahead.

 Here I am, 11 months later, and I’m also acutely reminded of my first post – a few days before I left the UK about how this would be your outlook into a world otherwise blocked off. I’m also constantly reminded here of my presence (difficult not to be conscious of it being the only white guy in what feels like a radius of several hundred km) and arguably more importantly of how I am the window of those here to Europe, to the US, to a world outside Sudan. It’s incredibly easy to think of this as a one-way process, and for all intents and purpose this slice of the internet is, but on a day to day level, a local level – it is so much more.

Every day I am asked where I am from, I tell them ‘Britain’ much to their relief (Usually followed by an angry anti-Trump tirade), but more than that I am asked by people how life here compares to that of the UK and often how many days it takes to reach Sudan from the UK. I have to craft my responses very carefully. In a position of incredible privilege, the journey from the UK is measured in hours, not days or weeks.  To the vast majority of people I have gotten to know here London is this utopian world, as fictional to them as Shakespeare’s world betwixt the pages of their English classes – enchanted minds invigorated by the land of Macbeth, they ask of Yorkshire – familiar with the landscapes of Jane Eyre and of Dublin’s fine streets those who’ve read some Oscar Wilde. I am their window. Their door to the world. That feels strange to me.

 I tell them that life is much the same; families still have their issues, parents still go out and earn their keep and many young people, like here, work part time to fund their studies. The arts scene exists, though people listen to different types of music and tea ladies are replaced by bar men and women. Fans are replaced by radiators, and the tea served with milk instead of mint. Premier League matches remain just as popular but as out of reach in the UK as they do here, save for the stadiums being significantly closer. Cultural exchange.  I tell stories of cold winters and of roast dinners, of summer holidays in European resorts – how Spain differs from Greece and the UK. The overwhelming majority of people I have had the honour of meeting here haven’t left the country, those who have having spent time in Ethiopia, Egypt, the Gulf nations, India or China. Whilst the cost of living is comparable when scaled down, travel is one thing which is significantly more expensive to your average Sudanese than it is to your average working Brit. That’s not to say, however, that people are not globally aware, and it’s been incredibly interesting to compare how the questions have differed when asked by people at home and here in Sudan.

Occasionally, but nonetheless a reminder of how far the world as a community still has left to progress, I meet people in a transient state. This can be difficult sometimes. The Libyan border isn’t too far from here and as you’ve no doubt seen in the media, there are lots of terrible things happening there, yet the allure of Europe remains. Family members in less well-off areas, throughout the country and beyond its borders, are given hope by a distant relative or a friend of a friend’s WhatsApp message from the ‘safety’ of Lampedusa or Sicily. They tell me of their plans and ask of the job situation in Europe. In these circumstances, I have to be frank – but one cannot change a decision already made. Whilst I tell them tales and show them news articles of 2017 Britain and the horrors of families having to make the decision between heating their homes in winter or feeding their children and of the situation in Greece. The most determined among them nod and reply, albeit after an initial indignant disbelief that such things could happen in the UK, that these things are ‘rare enough to make headlines there’. My heart grows heavy at this point, too heavy to say that news of sinking migrant vessels now frequently fails to make headlines, too often do they happen. I stress the danger and the cost physically, mentally, socially and economically of what the journey might entail.  I remind them of their life here in Sudan – in Somalia, Somaliland, Ethiopia wherever, how they have food on the table, a stable job, in most cases an education and a family and would be foolish to gamble it all away. Then I think of the incredible sacrifice and put myself in their shoes given the information that they hold and ponder my decision. It’s a simple one when you can see the facts and a wholly different one when you have the full set.

Christmas approaches, 9 days away, I shall be spending it at a film festival in Suakin, near Port Sudan, on the Red Sea 15 hours away by bus from Dongola. I’ll be joining the guys from Khartoum on Thursday with our secret Santa gifts and we’ll hang until the New Year, a refreshing break of snorkelling, music, fresh fish and sand of the more familiar kind. I’m hoping to travel back with the gang via the pyramids at Meroe and perhaps spend New Year’s Eve there, camping with others under the stars, entering 2018 under the shadow of 3,000 year old pyramids, doing our best to avoid scorpions, toasting at midnight a bottle of ‘Champion’ the pineapple flavoured ‘beer’.

2017 has been an incredible year in so many ways, on so many different levels. Jack has his mojo back and if 2018 can build upon what was undoubtedly a successful year and consolidate, then I’ll be a happy guy. The first month and a half of 2018 has a little travel in store, a day stop in Sharjah in the UAE, before Beirut for a few days before I meet my folks in Cyprus and travel back down to Sudan through Egypt. May and June do too, with Ethiopia and Kenya, and potentially Uganda to see the source of both Niles in the pipeline before I fly home from Nairobi in July. Summer is too far ahead to think about planning and it’ll be nice to spend the latter half of 2018 in a place I’ve not spent a significant amount of time immersed in, despite clinging to vestiges of her culture wherever I’ve been over the past 2 years. A reason to stay in the UK would also be nice too, and it’d be lovely if there was someone to buy special Christmas presents for next year. That is all.