#i still have nightmares from the bat mitzvah (but those had more to do with my parental unit's marriage and my own gender dysphoria which

[chaos-coming]

I fucking hate that my mom doesnt just have anxiety, she has a compulsion to make everyone around her also share that anxiety and wont stop until you are more stressed out than she is bc that comparison is how she tells herself she is managing it well

[walker-journal]

Seeking Sanctuary (Bex + Adam)

Participants: Bexley Ochsenstein (Spellcaster by Envy), Adam Walker (Hunter by Tapir)

Context: Two very unlike people encounter each other at the temple, and voice mutual doubts in a discussion about the nature of faith and identity. 

Content Warnings: Religious Idealization, Discussions of Sexism and Transphobia (civil discussion), Mentions of post-traumatic stress and military conflict

Faith for Adam was a complicated subject. You’d think that knowing for certain that demons, life after death, magic, and souls existing would make faith easy. Adam technically knew the answers to alot of questions your average believer struggled with. There was no dread mystique to supernatural evil when your parents had taught you which tentaclely organs the laser beams came from. But that was exactly the problem.

Adam had grown up with Hell and all your worst nightmares simply being objective fact, an everyday reality that needed to be fought with tactics, technology, and sacrifice.

But although Adam was well acquainted with the forces of darkness, the supposed other side of the equation was very noticeably absent. Where was the Light in all of this? 

Being a practical dude, Adam would’ve normally just dismissed tangential stuff that didn’t help you in the trenches, as Dad had...except...Adam had also warded off plenty of spooks with sacred symbols and watched with his own eyes as holy water burned undead killing machines to sterile dust.

What was the creator smoking? Fuck if Adam knew.

Adam turned his gaze from absently contemplating The Ark whose displayed scriptural scrolls dominated the front of the synagogue. There weren’t alot of people here today, but Adam found a familiar face in the pews nonetheless.

“How goes it Odelia?”

Prayer was something Bexley had never really gotten the hang of. She knew all the prayers to recite during Yom Kippur and Passover. She had memorized the passages for her bat mitzvah, and she had memorized enough to get through Temple. But when it came to personal prayer, when it came to sitting in Temple alone and staring up at the alter and around the pews, Bexley had no idea what to do. She hadn’t figured it out in her twenty years of life, the disconnect from her faith a struggle. It was something her parents had noticed, but never pointed out, because Bexley tried-- oh did she try-- to connect with the world the way she knew they wanted her to. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to or couldn’t, but, rather, that she felt so outside of it.

She was not born in the right body. Though the Torah made no mentions of people like her, the bittersweetness of it still tunneled her vision of it. How was she supposed to connect with something that wanted to pretend she didn’t exist?

But she wasn’t here today about that part of her. She was here today about the part of her that kept exploding things. Breaking them. Nell’s pot still sat heavy on her mind. It was a ridiculous thing to be kneeling in a pew about, but here she was. She wanted whatever it was to stop. She wanted to have some sort of control over it. She was practically begging for the help when a voice cut through her mind.

“Adam?” She turned to look over at him, startled slightly. “I-- sorry. What’re you doing here? N-not that you can’t be here! I just...you don’t really seem the type to just...come to temple... “

Adam was generally inclined to agree with that assessment. Between dating a woman who had a Beanie Baby collection of demons and committing more degrees of murder than existed in any legal code, the Hunter was pretty sure Bex was being overgenerous with his being allowed in here.

“Last night’s DIE party was the kind you need to get sanctified after,” Adam asserted as he plopped down unceremoniously in the pew in front of Bex. “You should come sometime.” he wheedled playfully. “Make sure you have plenty to repent for on Saturday.”

But after a moment Adam paused, the mischief of flirting with a lawyer-dude’s girlfriend fading. Dark brown eyes looked over Bex again, this time without lewdness or jest.

“How’re you holding up Bex,” Adam asked quietly with more intentionality than the previous address.

As Bex looked at Adam, she tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that Nell saw in him. Maybe it was something she couldn’t see, because all she saw was a rather lewd frat boy, who sometimes had that far away sad look in his eyes. Maybe that was really just the persona he wanted others to see-- Bex could relate to that. The happy, chipper girl she pretended to be in public for her parents wasn’t who she was at all, and her being here right now sort of proved that. She had to look away from him, furrowing her brow and smoothing her palms down the front of her dress. She always tried to look nice when coming to Temple.

“I don’t think those kinds of parties are really my style,” she answered quietly. Took a moment to look around to make sure there wasn’t anyone too familiar in here with them. But it was relatively empty today, with only a few people milling about and the Rabbi making rounds before disappearing back into his office. Her eyes settled back on Adam and he had that sad look again. He even used her right name.

“I’m fine,” she said curtly, “just...getting used to being back in White Crest. Kind of a whole different world out there than it is here, you know?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s the real reason you’re here, Adam? Repentance also doesn’t seem up your alley.”

While Adam had been trained to deceive and achieve invisibility by fulfilling others assumptions, he wasn’t so far gone that Bex’s directness couldn’t still get a rise from him. Adam blinked and his face became briefly uncertain, as if the Hunter had flubbed a line in a script and broken character in front of an audience of one. “I’ve gotten in over my head,” the murderer admitted after a time.

“I’ve been trying to just tough it out,” the Hunter continued, referring to the abuse and torments of a demonic cult in the tone someone else might’ve used for minor health difficulties. “But I’ve running on fumes for so long now that like...eventually you’ve got nothing left. No more second winds, no just pushing on through,” the athlete explained.

“I’ve never like been close to really hitting that wall one other time before,” admitted Adam in memory of when his power and faith had shattered on Lyssa’s peak. “I’m uh, not liking my chances here.”

Adam encompassed the synagogue’s interior with a vague sweeping gesture that implied that perhaps the soldier wasn’t so much seeking redemption as reaching anything to keep from plummeting off a cliff.

“Do you prefer the world out there Bex?”

Bex looked at Adam and listened to his words. Whatever he was going through, it seemed rough on him, like it was wearing him down. Sands blasting down his walls and carving them away, smoothing them away. Eventually, they would become nothing. Just like hers. She felt a pull at her heart and she had to look away to not totally give up her shiny exterior. Cleared her throat and rubbed her eyes.

“Don’t you have like, people to help you?” she asked. “You know you don’t have to go it alone. That’s sorta the point of community.” She gestured to the area around them. There were so many other people he could’ve gone to bother, why did he have to choose her? Still, a sense of curiosity pulled at her. And empathy. She knew what it felt like to be at the end of your rope. Her hands wrung together.

“What, um-- what happened? If you don’t mind me asking. Are you okay?” Was he dying? Did Nell know? She paused at his question. “I...prefer the world that I know I can interact with. It’s easy to...pretend to be something there.”

“There is someone helping me”, Adam admitted, “and I’m thankful I’ve got her help on this, but uh... “ The Hunter ran a hand across the back of his neck. “That’s kinna the problem y��know? Worried I’m just going to drag her down with me.”

Bex seemed to genuinely inquire about his welfare, which was kinna touching. As always, Adam had to weigh the difference between the necessary lies and giving the other people enough of the truth as he could. “There is a group in town that I think are into some really dangerous stuff,” was definitely a criminal level of understatement. “But I need evidence and to catch them in the act to make a citizen’s arrest,” Adam concluded. It was technically a lie, but as closest to the spirit of the truth as he could manage without going straight into Twilight Zone territory.

It was dangerous to say out loud. But as much as Adam hated to admit it, against an adversary like Ma’al these hallowed walls were probably studier than any military bunker.

“Why do you wanna pretend Bex? What makes this place hard to interact with,” Adam asked slowly, kinna intuiting what she might mean in his gut, but not wanting to jump to conclusions here.

“Is it Nell?” Bex asked, blurting the words before she could stop them. She paused, recoiled and bit the inside of her cheek. “Sorry. Not to sound weird, but I met Nell on campus and then we got talking and she sort of told me about you guys.” She burned to ask Adam if he knew that his girlfriend claimed to be a witch, and wondered what his faith-- their faith-- would have to say about that. She wondered a lot of things about Adam, actually, and Nell was one of those things.

“I think...if she didn’t want to be helping, she would say so. I think worrying about that is pointless.” Not that Bex knew Nell super well, but from what she’d seen of her, Nell didn’t seem the sort to do something out of obligation. She shifted, and leaned back.

“Whatever you’re up to, it sounds illegal and dangerous, and I’m studying law, so maybe don’t tell me what you’re doing,” she pointed out quietly, giving another wary glance around. She scratched her knees awkwardly.

“That’s...complicated, I guess,” she mumbled, furrowing her brows. “I want to pretend because...maybe one day I can’t stop pretending and it’ll be real. I know this might seem strange, Adam, but the world isn’t kind to people like me. Out there, in here--” she gestured around them, “it’s all kind of the same.”

“Oh,” Adam mouthed, feeling like a dumbass. Adam was typically immune to embarrassment or society anxiety, one of those side benefits of being conditioned to ignore fear and pain that might trouble therapists. Normally Adam would only grin and make lewd implications at the prospect of women talking in private about him. It’d never bothered him before, but for some reason the thought of Nell specifically doing so brought on a precarious uncertainty. “Yeah you’re right, I know you're right,” Adam repeated, “but still…” Knowing something doesn’t mean it can’t fuck you head anyway.

“Don’t you think we need to do illegal and dangerous stuff sometimes?” pointed out the vigilante.

Adam watched Bex’s face as she explained, his expression softened by a touch of awkward compassion but not comprehension. “Look I uh...can’t pretend to know what it's like,” he admitted. “This world is pretty dickish to women and I’m definitely not innocent of that, but there’s gotta be somewhere, or somebody, that can feel like a safe place y’know?”

“But still...what?” Bex prodded. She didn’t mean to pry, but she was curious by nature. And she began to develop a sort of friendship with Nell, so concern wrought itself through her face as she watched Adam. He always seemed so typical, but for some reason, up close like this with him, he seemed somewhat...different. There was something mysterious about him, about the way he talked. The things he hinted at. The casualness of his attitude, and the ruffling of his brow at the mention of Nell. Bex looked back down.

“No, I don’t,” Bex said, repeating the mantra in her head that her parents always told her. Be good, be polite, be strong. She tried her best to follow those, but she didn’t get them all the time. “My family is pretty strict about that stuff.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle hollowly. “I was kinda hoping that’s what I’d find here,” she admitted quietly, “but no one ever answers me.”

Adam let out a long exhale between his lips as he tried to scrape together some words to describe a gut feeling. Visceral stuff didn’t tend to lend itself to explanation very well, but here goes: “I’ve mostly ever done casual relationships,” Adam began. “I can’t do halfway stuff like...I’m not wired that way,” admitted the young fanatic. “Either it’s just a fuck.” Adam put a hand on one side of the pew’s back. “Or you care enough about them to give up everything,” Adam’s hand shifted to the other side of pew, perhaps indicating that the Hunter’s conception of intimacy was either a roll in the sheets or devotion to the point of self-sacrifice.

“Nell and I are trying something new for both of us,” Adam posited,”I care about her, but also don’t want to go so all in we can’t find a way out,” the Hunter said, perhaps talking about two things at once. “But as I said, not so great at halfway.”

Bex’s desolate mirth at divine silence gave Adam pause. His dark brown eyes flicked up to the synagogue's arched ceiling, as if checking to see if any angels happened to be fluttering about the eves.

“When I was on tour in Saudi Arabia,” the young soldier began after a while, eyes still contemplating the interlacing triangle mosaics. “One of my squaddies was this dude named Hasan. I was a dumass...ok dumbasser.. teenager and didn’t know shit about Islam and my Arabic was terrible,” Adam continued. “But like, we were on patrol together alot so we talked about stuff. One day we were looking at this camp full of bodies all ripped apart and shit,” the Hunter continued with conversational casualness, neglecting to mention that he and Hasan were not patrolling the wastelands against their fellow men.

“Hasan prayed over them before we bared what was left and I asked him later how he could possibly feel close to God out here, with all the blood and fucking torn up meat all over the sand. I was kinna messed up and lost my cool,” the Hunter confessed numbly, as if assuming that Bex would rightly judge him for this unacceptable lapse of composure on the battlefield. “Hasan just said that even here, even in this, Allah is not absent, We are no farther from his presence, evil is just distracting us from it.”

Adam’s lips creased into a rueful smile, “we talked more after that, he told me about this sage Rabia who was like this zero-wave feminist who went into the desert to chill with God and do survivalism.” The Hunter’s tone indicated that he himself might have considered going full wilderness anarchist on multiple occasions. “She was super smart and kind to the people who went out there to learn from her, unless they were offering marriage in which case she told them to fuck off,”

Scholars might’ve contested this summary, but Adam had learned about Sufi mysticism from Hasan in between filling hordes of Alghouls full of silver buckshot, so perhaps parsimony was forgivable.  

“Anyway, Rabia’s whole deal I guess was that she found that like..mosques, patriarchy, the state and all that shit pulled her farther away from God,” Adam continued in the manner of someone who’d emotionally connected with what his brother in arms had described, even if neither of the young warriors really had a handle on the deeper theology. “Love was where she felt God. Love for herself, love even for the sand and all the scorpions, the joy of just being alive.”

Adam’s eyes finally left the ceiling and found Bex’s face. The young man scratched his temple in a sudden fit of bashfulness in the wake of reminiscence. “Ok uh, I dunno where I was going with that but...I’m shit at this...but I guess uh.. like ...maybe a temple is wherever you feel closer to God, even if that's a desert or even just a state of mind.”

“I’m still trying to find my temple,” the fallen Hunter admitted.

As Adam talked, Bex listened. Really listened. She’d had no idea he was a soldier, or that he’d been on tour. She’d gone to Jerusalem once with her parents, and her mother had looked down at her and told her to be on her best behavior, because she was already wrong for being in the temple of their God. She remembered the harsh look her father had given her as they’d entered and she was wearing a dress and her favorite shoes and he’d scoffed. Maybe that was where her disconnect had spawned from.

Adam’s story broke her heart a little.

Bex couldn’t even imagine the pain of seeing so much carnage. Her sheltered life had let her grow up in relative peace. Death was not a part of her life. Shame was, though. Shame and guilt. She could relate to him on those things, even if it pained her to admit that.

“I’m sorry, Adam,” she finally said quietly, “that you went through all that.” She’d judged him preemptively, but he was perhaps suffering more than most anyone else in this Temple. “You know, for a frat guy, you’re pretty wise,” seh tacked on quietly with a tease. Perhaps now she could see why Nell liked him so much.

“I don’t know Nell that well yet, but it sounds like you really care about her. I definitely can’t give relationship advice, I’ve never even been in a real one--” she gave pause, stuttering over her words. Frank, her current “boyfriend” was a cover, and she’d just given that up, “--until now! But...what I’m trying to say is, I think it’s okay to not know. I think figuring it out together is kinda like...the point, you know? Of being with someone like that. Of trying new things.” Things she only wished she could try, could have. He was looking at her with those bashful, knowing eyes and she had to look away.

“This place scares me,” she admitted quietly, “White Crest.” She rubbed her arm, pulling into herself. “My parents always kept me so locked away, even when I lived here. And now I’ve been back for almost two months and already I feel like this place is trying to change me, take me away from the person I’m supposed to be.” She looked up at the ceiling, mirroring his movements from moments ago. “I guess I just wanted answers.” The ceiling told her nothing, and she looked down to meet his eyes again.

“You and me both, then,” she answered his last statement, the same sort of broken admittance ringing in her voice, “Guess we’ll just have to keep searching, huh?” Because there had to be something better than this, for both of them.

Adam stared at Bex for a moment at her condolence, stunned, as if genuinely not understanding why a story of battlefield carnage had elicited that reaction.

“Well uh,” a red blush crept up Adam’s neck as if Bex’s compassion had unmanned him more then any debauchery or public streaking ever had. “It’s not ...I didn’t mean it like..” the Hunter insisted as if associating the long war with suffering was something unthinkable. Perhaps it was even literally unthinkable, an emotional descent Adam didn’t think he could survive.

“It’s an honor to serve,” Adam insisted quietly. Even disgraced, powerless, and at the edge breaking, the Hunter couldn’t abandon what was killing him.

“You’re pretty understanding for a church girl,” Adam answered back to the praise he didn’t deserve, the crease at the edge of his soft smile hinting at a deeper more serious compliment underneath the playful plaudit.

If Adam intuited something off about how abruptly and awkwardly Frank entered and left the conversation, he kept his peace.

There were things Adam wished he could tell Bex about White Crest, about why her fears were valid and his gut feeling that this city was in a liminal space between Earth and the fathomless unknown. But preserving supernatural secrecy was one of the sacred charges his ancestors had passed down, and Adam couldn’t bring himself to break it even when it seemed they’d abandoned him.

Besides, Bex seemed worried about White Crest killing her spiritually, while Adam had his hands full trying to prevent much more literal death in vamp infested graveyards.

“Yeah guess so…” Adam stood as if he were about to go, but paused, mulling over Bex’s words again. Locked up? Take her away from who she was meant to be? Aw shit. Uneasy vibes compelled Adam to speak even when his brain warned he should stay the hell outta this. “Hey Bex, like if its ever too much,” he began slowly, “I know people you stay with. On the other side of the country, or the Holy Land even.” Mom never turned away guests in need...well, human ones.

“Sorry if that’s pushy,” Adam ameliorated, “and you can tell me to fuck off. But like...offer open.”

His embarrassment was almost immediate and Bex couldn’t help but roll her eyes a little. He might’ve had a seeming heart of gold, but he still tried to apply certain standards of masculinity to himself. She supposed some things would never really change. Still, it didn’t discredit anything else he’d said, or that he’d done. “Well I did,” she answered, “mean it like that.”

At that, Bex snorted. “Church girl?” she chuckled, shaking her head. “Seriously? That’s what you think of me? Geez, I kinda hate that. Maybe I was right before, pretending I could solve my problems myself instead of coming here.” She was mostly teasing, but there was some truth to it. She hadn’t entirely found her purpose or sense of self within her faith yet, even as hard as she’d tried to. She had books about Jewish spiritualism-- Kabbalah as it were-- but after her parents had found the first one, their anger had made her never want to open one again, despite her curiosity for them. Despite what little she had read about it giving her a connection she’d never felt before.

His offer, however, was sudden and abrupt and not at all what she’d expected him to say. She blinked, confused, before softening her expression and shaking her head. “That’s real sweet of you to offer, Adam, but I could never take you up on that.” Her parents would never allow it. They’d brought her back here specifically to keep her close, and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to be let out of their grasp for a long time now.

Her expression fell again, as he stood and started to make his way out. “You know, Adam,” she said, a bit quieter now, “you’re a good guy. I can’t tell you what to do, but I think maybe letting people see this side of you more often might be nice.” She gave a gentle smile. “I’ll see you around. Tell Nell hi for me.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #453

“you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave”

What health problems run in your family? Diabetes, high blood pressure and cholesterol, depression, cancer, a LOT more that I'm forgetting. Where did you last have sex? I have zero memory of the last time that was, so I wouldn't know. But probably a bed? How long have you known your best friend? Since we were around 8 and 11. What’s something people criticize you the most for? That I rely on the computer too much. Are spiders scary? I mean some are, but they're also extremely fascinating animals that I really enjoy observing. Cheetos. Poofy or regular? Regular, for sure. The poofy ones get stuck in your teeth SO badly. What's your favorite music genre? Heavy metal. Be honest. What are you most afraid of? Doing nothing with my life. What's your favourite type of survey to take? The ones with really random questions that you don't see in every single one. However, I don't like "random" to where the questions are just inapplicable to almost everyone. I also enjoy questions that allow me to vent about stuff I have going on. If I'm in the right mood, deep questions are great, too. What was the last topic you read about? In detail? I don't know. What shirt do you wear the most? Besides tank tops, my Cloak "equal in our bones" Day of the Dead shirt. What's your go-to order from KFC? I don't eat at KFC. Did you have hand-me-down clothes when you were growing up? Yes. What was the last song you listened to? Well, NOW I'm obsessed with Violet Orlandi's cover of "Hotel California." I keep finding new songs that I just loop for days, man, lol. I'm still not over her "The Unforgiven" cover. Did you have long hair as a young kid? I did. How many songs do you know by the band you are listening to? I'm still listening to Violet's "Hotel California" cover, which is originally by The Eagles. I obviously know this song, as well as "Heartache Tonight." Probably more, just those are the two I know and like. What podcasts do you listen to, if any? I don't listen to any. What was your most recent binge watch? Gab Smolders' playthrough of Final Fantasy X. What’s the oldest thing currently in your house? Hell, possibly my bed frame. I don't know. If you use Snapchat, do you post to your story or send individual snaps more often? I don't have one. When was the last time you rolled your eyes? At what? Not too long ago. Mom said something that really annoyed me. Do you like mozzarella sticks? No. If you had to name one of your children after a friend, solely based on their name alone, who would you choose? Probably Alon. Everything about her is beautiful, ha ha. Have you ever watched anime porn? I can confidently say I have not... Are ladybugs cute? Yes! Would you wear something made from snake skin? Fuck no. I won't wear anything that comes from an animal. Will you leave the house without fragrance on? Yeah, idc. What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever done for a significant other? In art class, I made an anatomically correct heart out of clay and put it in a shadow box along with a poem as the background. I honestly really hope Jason still has it, because I worked my ass off on it. What do you think of naming your son after the father (ex. Roy Jr.): It's not my business what other parents name their kids, but for me personally, I really don't like it. Like... give your child their own identity. It also feels kinda arrogant to me? Like are you so important that you have to force your name onto your kid? Do you like Death Cab For Cutie? I only know "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," which I adore. Do walking near or past cops make you feel uncomfortable? Yes. I just feel like I'm doing something wrong somehow. Do you think stretching (or gauging) your ears is disgusting? When they get to a certain size, to me it is. Small ones are no biggie. What piercing or body modification do you think is really gross? Oh my god, those corset piercings people get on their backs. Just... no. What would you do if your bf/gf told you they were going into the army? I'd be fucking devastated, in a hypothetical relationship where we're serious. What is the nearest gas station called? Uhhhh... I forgot lol. The second-closest though, which is almost like, RIGHT beside the other one, is Sheetz. Do you think bearded dragons are cute? omg YES!!!!!!!! What is your father’s best friend’s name? Do you know them personally? I have no idea. Ever have a dream you’re being abducted by aliens? Was it scary? No. Are you someone who tends to take a whole lot of naps? Too many, honestly. I'm just like... always tired. What is your favorite nickname you like to be called? Why do you like it? Hm. My favorite I've ever had was "Bee," which Megan called me, but I don't like others calling me that. Ever meet someone whose house has burned down spontaneously? Yes, in middle school. Why aren’t you pursuing the person you like? I kinda am. I reached out to him. What part of a person’s body do you find most attractive? Guys: shoulder blades. Girls: hips. Any friends that you’d go on a date with? Yeah. I think I want to try that with Girt and see how it goes and decide what the fuck I want. Is it cute when someone calls you babe? It's funny, I used to hate that, but now I imagine I wouldn't mind? Do you like Muse? Yeah! "Unnatural Selection" and "Psycho" are especially BANGERS. What’s your favorite flavor of jello? Strawberry. What song is stuck in your head right now? I'm bingeing the absolute fuck outta the song I mentioned earlier, ha ha. Do you have a niece or nephew? I have a lot, but only three I see regularly. Have you ever been caught doing something REAL embarrassing by your parents? idk What did you receive for Valentine’s Day? I think Mom got me a chocolate bar? When was the last time you went to a cemetery, and why were you there? I want to say this was many years ago when I went with Colleen to her church. Her stillborn brother was buried there. Have you ever owned a plant? What was it? I grew habaneros once, along with some sort of succulents from Colleen. What was the most interesting animal you have seen in the wild? I saw a mink jump into the river once when I was out fishing with Dad at our favorite spot. Were you born in the state you live in? Yep. Always lived here. What’s a smell that makes you feel ill? Dog shit. Do you like to sleep? Yes and no. I like falling asleep if it's quick, because I'm all comfy, but I also dread sleep because of my nightmares. Even with my mask, they're starting to become regular again. After last night's, I am legitimately beginning to fear something is psychologically wrong with me. Like, I cried to my mom. Do you like the smell of gasoline? Ugh, no. It gives me a headache. Have you lost contact with anyone you wish you haven’t? Many people. Did you give anyone his/her first kiss? No. Should you ever have gone to the hospital but didn’t? Vice versa? No. Who do you miss the most? Jason. What do you miss the most? Being happy. What is your birthstone? Do you have any jewelry with it? Amethyst. I have a really cute guardian angel pin with one given to me by my grandmother. What is the last dream you remember having? Last night was... awful. I remember Mom and I getting in a MASSIVE fight, and also literally yelling at my late beloved dog something about crushing his head in if he didn't stop barking. Like I mentioned earlier, I'm really scared something is really wrong with me. Have you had a church confirmation, bar/bat mitzvah, or something similar? Growing up Roman Catholic, I had a Confirmation ceremony. What was the last baby animal you saw? I wanna say a puppy on Facebook. A friend just got one.

[bushyhairarchive]

SAMANTHA WARE? no, that’s actually HERMIONE GRANGER from the GOLDEN TRIO ERA. you know, the child of ALBERT GRANGER and GWENDOLYN GRANGER (NEÉ PUCKLE)? only 22 years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as a EMPLOYEE FOR THE DEPARTMENT FOR THE REGULATION AND CONTROL OF MAGICAL CREATURES and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE identifies as a CIS WOMAN and is a MUGGLEBORN who is known to be VINDICTIVE, INFLEXIBLE, and MEDDLESOME but also LEVELHEADED, STOUT-HEARTED, and SCHOLARLY. — &&. ( SARAH, PST, SHE/HER, 22. )

hermione was something of a miracle baby (and a complete surprise). they’d long since given up trying to conceive as her father was in his fifties and her mother was pushing forty. nevertheless, even though she was unexpected, her parents showered her with love and affection – they had always wanted a baby girl to call their own. hermione would be their one and only.

her parents named her hermione after the virtuous queen of sicily in shakespeare’s the winter’s tale and the hermione in greek mythology, and the name is derived from hermes, who was the messenger of the greek gods, as well as the god of wit, eloquence, and quick thinking. so it’s quite fitting for our favorite bookworm. her middle name is jean, which is a female variant of the name john, meaning “god is gracious”. i think it’s quite possible that hermione was coded as jewish (her appearance, how she faces oppression for her blood by the death eaters/voldemort which are analogies for the nazis/hitler/the holocaust, the fact that she isn’t shown to have a particular attachment to christmas and rarely goes home for the holiday, etc.). thus, i’ve headcanoned that she comes from an interfaith family; her mom is jewish and her dad is christian, and they raised her with both religions with the intention of letting her pick when she grew older. eventually, she chose judaism, and she had an adult bat mitzvah a while back. while she’s not very religious, she’s still very proud of her heritage. anyways, her parents didn’t actually name her jean because of its religious meaning; they actually named her after the narrator of to kill a mockingbird, jean louise “scout” finch. much like hermione, her parents have a great love for literature.

[ RACISM AND ANTI SEMITISM MENTIONS ] growing up, despite being upper middle class and an incredibly well-behaved child, she of course still experienced her fair share of racism due to her black and jewish heritage – dirty looks on the street by complete strangers, mean schoolchildren declaring her ugly for not meeting westernized beauty standards, shopkeepers keeping a watchful eye on her when she entered their stores, adults assuming she couldn’t possibly be as intelligent as her white peers. not only was it demoralizing to little hermione, it was enraging. she developed an overwhelming need to prove herself and her capabilities – she always had to work so much harder than white children to be properly recognized, but every year, she still outperformed everyone else. of course, young hermione was seen as rather swotty and insufferable by her classmates, so she grew up pretty unpopular. when she discovered she was a witch, she had hope that maybe, just maybe, she could escape to another world free of prejudice and racism, a world that would accept her.

but of course, the wizarding world was not quite as she dreamed it would be. there was still racism; it was merely towards a different group of people. mudblood. when draco malfoy first spat out that venomous word in reference to her, she didn’t immediately know just what it meant, but she understood well enough. she’d been called slurs before. and hermione was once again rattled with that familiar fury. she was top of her year, with an extraordinary amount of power, but still she was viewed by many as inferior. she vowed to prove her worth and become an instrument of change. she would fight for herself and her friends and her parents and the enslaved house elves and the other muggleborns, even if she was inwardly frightened for them all. [ END RACISM AND ANTI SEMITISM MENTIONS ]

because as we know, hermione might have been a know-it-all who seemed rather confident in her abilities, but in truth she was actually deeply insecure and terrified of failure. she somewhat grew out of this as the years went by – she’s proud of who she is and knows that she’s capable – but some of her insecurities still linger to this day.

she’s far more ruthless than she appears to be at first glance – this is the girl who destroyed marietta edgecombe’s face when she dared to betray the d.a., erased her parents’ memories, set a professor on fire, imprisoned rita skeeter in a jar and blackmailed her, and left umbridge to the centaurs to rot. while she does have a good sense of morals, she’s vindictive and will ultimately do what is necessary to achieve the right outcome. she honestly does not regret any of these actions – the ends justified the means in hermione’s opinion. (aka draco malfoy should consider himself lucky she only slapped his sorry arse so hard that he bruised)

[ ALZHEIMER’S/DEMENTIA MENTIONS ] once the dust had settled, hermione left her friends behind to search for her parents in australia. tracking them down took several weeks in and of itself, but once she finally found them, she quickly realized she had her work cut out for her. memory magic is an incredibly intricate process because it involves reconstructing the brain, and without proper training, it can easily go awry. she spent many days working on properly restoring their memories, and even after she was sure that she had done it perfectly, something was still wrong. the doctors diagnosed her father with early stage alzheimer’s. hermione mostly blames herself for this – her father’s well past middle aged, but perhaps his mind wouldn’t have deteriorated so much if she hadn’t cast those memory charms. she’s terrified that one day he’ll forget her name entirely, and there won’t be a way for even her to fix it. there are some things magic just can’t solve. [ END ALZHEIMER’S/DEMENTIA MENTIONS ]

she returned to hogwarts for her eighth year, determined to graduate with all o’s on her n.e.w.t.s, and of course she succeeded because she’s hermione and she buried herself in her schoolwork (partially as a distraction from her underlying trauma from all she’s faced). now she lives in a cozy flat that’s far away from the hubbub of the wizarding world so that she isn’t hounded by reporters whenever they step outside. being a war hero has made hermione quite famous (although not as well known as harry of course), and she doesn’t know how to handle it in the slightest. but she does use her newfound celebrity as a voice for the oppressed – house elves, werewolves, other muggleborns – because again, she’s hermione and she wouldn’t be hermione without her vehemence for social justice.

[ PTSD MENTIONS ] now she’s working as an employee for the department for the regulation and control of magical creatures, staunchly defending the rights of house elves. she’s completely immersed herself in her work, needing the diversion from her ptsd and the diminishing health of her father. she’s still fretting over her loved ones, asking them multiple times a week if they’re alright and reassuring them that she’s always here if they need a shoulder to lean on, but she hasn’t quite dealt with the fact that she isn’t alright, not by a long shot. she hasn’t properly grieved the people she lost, and she suffers from petrifying night terrors, and the worst ones are of bellatrix torturing her in malfoy manor. she has tried everything to remove or cover her mudblood scar, but as it was magically carved into her by a curse of bellatrix’s own creation, she wasn’t able to. eventually, she gave up, deciding she would wear it like a sign of her courage and resilience. but there are still those nights where she wakes up from a chilling nightmare, wailing and thrashing. she casts muffling charms on her room every night as a precaution. [ END PTSD MENTIONS ]

[jamaninja]

Olicity one-shot: The Rage Phase

Word count: 4,469 Rating: Teen Summary: Newsroom AU — Felicity might have been the face of Atlantic Cable News’ financial analysis, but when an ex-boyfriend takes revenge on her for breaking up with him, he tries to ruin it all for her. Oliver’s the only one she can turn to to help her get off the floor and fight back.

Author’s note: OK, so a while back I wrote this quick little one-shot, what a good guy would do, based on The Newsroom but using Arrow characters. Well I watched this episode again recently and it all came back like a flood.

Dedicated to the very amazing @blackcanarydinah as a late gift for graduating journalism school. You go, girl! Take over the world!

(Also, read her story The 2025 Hamentashen Debacle because she is an amazing writer and it will warm your cold dead heart.)

Lastly, you don’t HAVE to have seen The Newsroom to understand what’s going on in this story, but if you haven’t seen The Newsroom, then do yourselves the biggest favor and watch it immediately.

Felicity has a necklace that she never takes off. Not even in the shower.

It’s a necklace her mother gave her after she graduated with her Ph.D. When Donna handed over the box and Felicity opened it, they both burst into tears at the symbolism of the moment. It was the same necklace that Donna’s mother had given her for her bat mitzvah, and since Felicity didn’t want to have one, Donna wanted to wait for an equally significant event to pass it on.

The necklace means she’s a fully realized woman. It’s imbued with the strength of generations of Smoak women, and it’s always been a source of comfort and power for her.

But today...today it’s the starring feature of the most humiliating moment of her life.

She sits there, in Walter’s office with Isabel Rochev. Walter’s looking at her with nothing but kindness, but Isabel leans against the credenza with a stack of photos in her hand, looking at her with nothing but cruel amusement.

Felicity would have figured that Isabel, a fellow woman, would at least be a little sympathetic. But then again, she should have known better — robots aren’t really capable of sympathy.

“I’m not going to fire you,” Isabel announces, as if she were being benevolent.

Walter’s mouth twists in indignation. “I just told you, that’s not her.”

“I just told you that I’m not going to fire her,” Isabel shoots back.

“She’s got a contract,” Walter reminds her. “What are you talking about?”

Isabel smirks. “I’m glad you brought that up.”

Felicity closes her eyes as Isabel starts reading the clauses from her contract. Walter sets down his glass of bourbon and continues his full-throated defense.

“It was photoshopped,” he says over Isabel’s recitation. “It’s her head on another woman’s body.”

But it’s not, Felicity thinks. The minute she saw the pictures, she knew they were real. She can see the tiny little mole on her shoulder, and the scar from when they took out her appendix. It’s her in the pictures.

She struggles to hold onto her tears as fiercely as she can. She refuses to cry in front of Isabel, of all people.

“ — contempt, scandal or ridicule, which might tend to reflect unfavorably — “ the woman continues.

Walter bristles. “She doesn’t need to hear her morals clause!”

He’s right about that. She doesn’t need Isabel rubbing it in her face that she trusted the wrong guy. Again.

“ — on the program or any sponsor or any station that broadcasts the program,” Isabel finishes with a flourish. “Congratulations, you checked all the boxes.”

“Are you deaf?” Walter demands. “She just told you it’s not her body, Isabel!”

Isabel must have reached the end of her patience, because she raises her voice to match Walter’s. “Then she needs to stop wearing that fucking necklace, Walter!”

Felicity flinches. She can feel the gold resting against her chest, and she thinks that at any moment it will take on a life of its own and contract around her neck to choke her.

She wishes it would.

“It’s the same one she’s wearing in the pictures,” Isabel continues. “The images have been scrutinized by not one but three graphic experts who have reached identical conclusions. Skin coloring is a match, the shadows are a match. Is there a blending issue? No.”

Isabel goes through her list and Walter looks up at Felicity. She can feel the kindly man’s eyes on her and she burns with shame anew. The man is like her own father, and she feels like she’s disappointed him as well.

“The hue is a match, the pixelation is consistent throughout, resolution is consistent throughout.”

Felicity’s had enough. She can’t take it anymore.

“Stop.”

Her voice is hoarse because she hasn’t said anything in hours. She hasn’t been able to get a word in edgewise at this meeting, but even if she could, what could she really say? She’d been robbed of her speech, which was a first for her, probably in her whole life. She’d been robbed of everything.

“It’s me. I lied. I’m sorry.” Her voice gives out in the last sentence.

Isabel smirks again and goddamn it if this woman doesn’t have the ability to make her worst nightmare feel like hell on earth.

“Felicity, this wasn’t a stalker pointing a camera through a peephole. You posed for these.”

The sentence itself is a declaration. But the way they leave Isabel’s mouth, it’s pointed at her like an accusation.

“So what?” Walter shoots back.

But she can’t let him keep standing up for her like this. She knew he’d stand by her until he died, but she didn’t want to bring him down with her.

“I understand,” she murmured.

“I didn’t hear you,” Isabel prompts.

Yes she did. She did hear her. She just wants Felicity humiliated even more.

“I understand,” Felicity repeats. Then she takes a deep breath.

“I was seeing a man over Christmas — ”

“You don’t have to explain,” Walter interrupts kindly.

“I can’t tell you how much I wish that were true,” Isabel counters. “But she has to explain enough for me to be satisfied there aren’t more of these out there!”

Well she’s fucked then.

“There are more,” Felicity says quietly.

Isabel lets out a breath. Then she crosses her arms over her chest and stares at her. Waiting.

So Felicity tries again.

“He consults for AIG. We’d been seeing each other about six weeks. And he got a suite at the Mandarin Oriental for Christmas Eve. I bought him a camera. A nice camera.”

Walter looks pained as she continues. “All right,” he tries to interrupt, like it’s finished.

But it’s not. Now that she’s started, she has to keep going.

“We’d been drinking, and he wanted me to pose. And...you know, I did. For fun. Just for us.”

God, she was such a fool. There were so many different times when she could have stopped it. If she hadn’t agreed to spend the night with him on Christmas Eve. If she’d stopped at that second vodka tonic. If she’d said no when he asked her to take off her bra as he uncapped the lens of his camera.

“Last night, I broke up with him.”

Isabel looks at her critically. “Have you heard of this site, Revenge Porn?”

“I have now,” Felicity deadpans.

Walter decides to step in again. “Why can’t you file for injunctive relief and get the pictures down?”

Isabel shakes her head. “The pictures are up everywhere. They have their own Facebook page.”

“Then she sues for defamation,” he continues stubbornly.

“She posed for the pictures.”

“Copyright.” He’s grasping at straws at this point.

“It was his camera. She gave it to him. He owns the pictures and it doesn’t look to me like she was doing anything against her will.”

“I wasn’t,” Felicity says. That’s for sure. She had willingly let him take those fucking pictures.

Walter’s eyes are so sad as he looks at her, and it makes Felicity wonder how he can still see her the same way now that he’s seen her stripped completely bare. How anyone in the bullpen will be able to see her the same way anymore.

Isabel takes her phone out of her pocket and checks it. Without looking up, she asks, “Are you on TV tonight?”

“Yeah, in about two hours.”

Whatever’s on Isabel’s screen must be amusing to her, because she cocks her head to the side and smirks.

Then she finally looks up and says, “You’re trending number one, Felicity.”

There are a lot of things going through Oliver’s mind as he walks through the the doors of his office, fresh from the last rundown meeting before they go to air. The first thing he has to do is get the misquote corrected before it spirals any further. That’s his number one priority.

But there’s another niggling little thought in the back of his mind that’s been fighting to come to the forefront all day. He’s been viciously pushing it back, refusing to even it enough light to become a full-fledged musing.

It doesn’t make it easier to ignore.

Not bothering to flick the light on in his office, he grabs the phone on his desk and holds the handpiece up to his ear. Then he starts dialling.

The line rings four times, then goes to voicemail. Figures.

“Phillip. It’s Oliver Queen,” he begins. “Call me back at the office, and if you call between ten and eleven, tell them I said to put you through to the control room. We’ve got to fix this.”

When he’s finished with his message, he hangs up the phone and turns to walk back out of his office.

But a voice stops him.

“What happened?”

“Jesus,” Oliver starts.

He glances over and realizes Felicity’s sitting on the floor by his bookshelf. She’s hugging her knees to her chest and she’s staring straight ahead like she does when she’s on air and she’s reading off the teleprompter.

But when he takes a closer look, he realizes that her lovely blue eyes have turned red and puffy, and there are tiny rivers of mascara running down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I’m down here,” she murmurs.

Oliver has never seen her like this before. Felicity is a force. She commands any room she stands in, with confidence and pride. Her sitting curled up in a ball in the corner of his darkened office is wrong. The wrongest of wrongs.

Though it’s not like he doesn’t know why.

He hasn’t looked at them. He heard about it from someone else, and of course all of his non-journalist dude friends were passing around the link to the site like it was cocaine at a Playboy Mansion party. But he refused to click on it.

He has never wanted to see anyone naked more than he wants to see Felicity Smoak, but refusing to look at the pictures is the easiest thing he’s ever done.

“It’s all right,” he answers as he slowly approaches.

If you ask anyone, they would tell you that Oliver Queen is the last person anyone would ever turn to for emotional trauma. He’s terrible at comforting. He never knows the right thing to say. He usually ends up making everything worse.

But damn it, it’s Felicity. He has to try.

He stands in front of her, but for once, her eyes don’t glance to him. She’s still staring straight ahead, unseeing.

“What are you doing?”

She shrugs. “Just hanging out.” Her voice is light, as if nothing is wrong. “Grant’s in my office. Our office.”

Oliver shakes his head. Felicity’s one of the most well-known faces for ACN. The fact that she didn’t have her own office by now was baffling.

“You shouldn’t be sharing an office anymore,” he tells her.

“I don’t mind,” she answers with a tiny smile that does nothing to lift the sadness from her face. “I like Grant, and he’s usually in D.C. He brings his dog in sometimes. A basset hound...always looks very puzzled. Just confounded. But working on it, you know?”

Her voice starts to break, and so does Oliver’s heart.

“Just...everybody, slow down and let me catch up, because I’m down here.”

Her chin quivers and the tears start overflowing again. Every muscle in his body screams at him to rush to her, to wrap her up in his arms and hold her until her body stops shaking, until her eyes run dry. Until her mind is at peace again.

He knows better, though. He keeps his hands to himself, even though it’s the last thing he wants.

She shakes her head, still looking straight. “There’s no way to see this coming,” she says in a quavering voice. “He’s a really nice guy.”

Then her voice completely disappears in a ragged whisper. “I totally trusted him.”

Oliver can’t take it anymore. He gives into his longing to be closer and slowly approaches her, until he’s standing just two feet away. But still, he doesn’t touch her.

Felicity starts sobbing, though he can see she’s trying like hell to hold it in. It’s like she’s trying to stay strong, but every bit of her is breaking apart.

He can’t bear to see her like this. He wants to tell her that she doesn’t have to stay strong for him. He wants to tell her that it’s OK for her to fall apart. He wants to tell her that she’s safe.

But all that comes out is, “It’s all right.”

He’s lost track of how long they’ve been in his office.

At some point, he finds himself sitting down right next to Felicity. Though he still has to struggle to keep himself from touching her, he finds that this is a decent compromise. They both have their arms wrapped around their knees as they stare ahead, sitting mostly in silence.

Sometimes she breaks the silence with whatever errant thought pops into her brain, and it makes him wonder for the millionth time just how fast her brain processes things. He thinks it might be faster than the speed of light, because one moment she’ll tell him a story from her childhood and the next minute she’s trying to explain why subprime auto loans are going to be the next bubble to burst.

Right now she’s telling a joke, like she’s trying to cheer the both of them up.

“A lion’s walking through the woods. He comes up to a zebra, and the lion says, ‘You know something, zebra? You are a ridiculous looking animal. You’re half white, half black, half horse, half donkey. Look at me — I’m rough, I’m tough, I’m the king of the jungle.’ The zebra just shrugs and moves on. The lion comes to a giraffe, and the lion says, ‘You know something, giraffe? You are a ridiculous looking animal. You’ve got a long neck and little horns. Look at me — I’m rough, I’m tough, I’m the king of the jungle.’ Lion comes to a frog and says, ‘You know something, frog? You are a ridiculous looking animal. You’re green and slimy.’ And the frog says, ‘Hey, fuck you! I’ve been sick!’”

Oliver can’t help it. He lets out a chuckle.

Felicity smiles a little at his reaction, but it disappears pretty quickly.

“You’ve got to get your show ready,” she reminds him.

“I’m all right,” he answers.

She sighs. “At some point I’m going to have to call my mom.”

“Do you have to?”

There’s a brief pause before she answers him.

“She keeps a scrapbook on me. She Googles me every morning.”

He looks over at her. There were so many layers to how fucked up this whole situation was, so he searched for the right words that would make her feel better.

“She’s going to understand.”

Felicity lets out a huff of breath and shakes her head.

“She will,” he insists.

“Not deep down. No one will.”

Her voice drops into a whisper, and her eyes deaden. “This is who I am now.”

Oliver refuses to believe that. Felicity Smoak is so much more than a group of naked pictures some dickbag posted on the internet. Yes, she’s beautiful. Yes, she’s smart. But she’s also kind. Compassionate. Warm and funny and one of the most amazing people he’s ever met in his life.

She is so much more than this.

He finally asks the question that’s been on the tip of his tongue all day.

“What happened?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “You mean...how did he — ”

“No.” He doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t want the details. He doesn’t think he could bear to hear the details. “No, was it a bad break up? I didn’t even know you were going out with someone.”

Her frown deepens and her voice goes mechanical. “He was a very well-respected analyst. We met at a Forbes party. And no, I didn’t think it was a bad break up. He wasn’t very upset about it.” Then her voice raises slightly and he can see the indignation on her face. “But even if it had been, this — this would be OK?”

Oliver shakes his head, immediately regretting the implication in his words. “No. No. Absolutely not.”

“What the fuck!” she exclaims. “I am feeling...so intensely something that I don’t know what it is!”

Oliver pauses before he answers. He certainly knows what he’s feeling.

“Rage.”

There’s another pause as they process together.

“Do you want me to scrap you from the rundown?” he asks. He understands completely if she does. She’s supposed to interview a high-profile financial guy that Oliver hardly pays attention to, but at this point he would let her do anything she wants.

“Yes,” she answers without hesitating. “I’m not going on TV and interviewing — the guy, he’s — he’s the chancellor of the Exchequer. You can’t … “

She can’t finish her sentence, so she starts over. “He should have Tommy.”

His heart breaks again, for what feels like the millionth time. Or maybe the million and first. He’s lost track.

“OK.”

He gets up from the floor and walks to his desk so he can make the call to his senior producer and tell him to get Felicity off the rundown. But just as he’s dialing, she speaks up again.

“I bought him the camera,” she says conversationally. “It was a good camera. I asked a couple of our freelance guys for help.”

She closes her eyes. “I miss still photography. Though...not so much lately.”

He can’t take it anymore. He needs to do something. His body is screaming at him to spring into action, and since he can’t hunt down the bastard and beat the living daylights out of him, and he also can’t reach out and hold her close, he settles instead for making the call to Rory and asking him to change the rundown so Felicity isn’t on the hook for an interview on her worst day ever.

After he hangs up, he turns around and sits back down next to her.

“Anyway...you’re feeling rage.”

Felicity shakes her head. “I’d love it if I was. I’d give anything to feel rage. I’d jump the humiliation, and I’d be able to get up. I think I live here now.”

He lets out a breath. “I wonder if I were able to promise you that humiliation always turns into rage.”

“How long does that conversion take?” she asks. “How long is the evolution? How long does it take to get from the larva stage of this, to — how long does it take?”

It’s Oliver’s turn to shake his head. The return of the babbling might be a good sign. Or it might just be her trying to distract herself from everything.

“I guess it depends,” he answers. “Like for Germany, it was fifteen to twenty years. But Wile E. Coyote, he…”

Felicity chuckles a little and so does he. “He has a fast turnaround.”

The smile drops off Felicity’s face as quickly as it came, and a long silence stretches between them.

“I want to die,” she whispers.

And all Oliver can say to comfort her is, “I know.”

She’s been sitting there for almost an hour and a half. She knows she should leave. Oliver’s got a show to prepare for, and he’s got five minutes to fill now that she’s not coming on to do her interview.

She should leave. But she can’t bring herself to get up.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, she’s sure. But it also could be that Oliver’s sitting right next to her, and his comforting presence makes her feel less like ripping her own skin off and more...well, more normal.

“Is this the right time to ask why you date men like this?” he asks.

“No,” she answers.

“It’s not?”

“It’s not the right time.”

“All right.”

“Because you don’t know they’re like that until they are.”

He shakes his head. “But they are a lot with you, it’s just — ”

“There’s no way to tell, Oliver,” she interrupts him quietly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe that.”

He doesn’t get it. He’s thinking like a guy. Guys categorize women into groups, usually crazies versus non-crazies. Guys think they can tell just by looking. But women know better.

“You don’t,” she says flatly.

“I don’t believe that someone who is capable of this, that a shithead this big is able to keep it a secret from someone they’ve been dating for seven weeks.”

Felicity’s face falls and her arms go to cross over her chest. “You’re saying I knew he was like this, but didn’t care?”

“I’m saying you don’t have a very high opinion of yourself, and I don’t get it.”

No, Felicity thinks. Of course he doesn’t get it. But it’s not entirely his fault — he’s a good guy, after all. He fundamentally can’t understand it when other men aren’t.

Oliver seems to have broken through a barrier that held back what he’s really feeling, because he keeps going.

“And since this is also not the right time, let me also say that if it had been a woman who had done this, her friends would be saying, ‘You go girl!’”

She snorts. He’s trying to prove a double standard where none exists.

“I promise you, he’s getting that right now from his friends in arbitrage.”

After all, dickbags flock to one another. They come together in groups and high-five and congratulate one another after they’ve committed particularly dickish acts.

“No,” Oliver shakes his head. “Deep down, they think he’s an asshole.”

Oh please, Felicity thinks to herself.

“He’s an asshole right on top.”

He tries to explain himself. “Oh no, they — his friends in arbitrage — ”

“Yeah, I know,” she interrupts him. “I was making a joke.”

A tiny smile creeps up over his face. “You’re really…”

He trails off, and Felicity glances over, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“You’re impressive,” he murmurs.

She realizes he’s looking at her with an intensity she’d never seen before, and if it had been any other day, her heart would be fluttering and there would be butterflies blooming in her stomach.

As it is, she can hardly feel any of that through the thick blanket of despair and humiliation.

---

Eventually Oliver has to leave to produce his show, but he doesn’t kick her out. He insists that she stay in his office as long as she needs, and so she does. The bullpen might have cleared out for the most part, since Right Now with Tommy Merlyn at ten o’clock is the last show of the day, but she still doesn’t want to have to face the people who are lingering.

So she turns on the TV to watch the broadcast. Tommy does the interview she was supposed to do, and he does it well enough. But he neglects to ask the follow-ups. It’s not his fault — Tommy’s not a financial analyst, and it’s certainly not his forte either.

Felicity knows she would have done a better job. And she knows that it really should have been her sitting in that chair instead of Tommy.

And all of a sudden, she feels a deep, flaming anger bloom inside her chest. Fucking Cooper. He is the one who kept her away from the studio. He is the one that made it almost impossible for her to do her job. A job she is damn good at, thank you very much.

He’s the one who deserves to suffer humiliation. Not her.

The show finishes up and fifteen minutes after Tommy signs off, Oliver is back in his office.

“Good show,” she tells him with a small smile.

“Thank you,” he answers, returning it.

“No, thank you.” It’s an inadequate phrase. How are two words supposed to encompass all the gratitude she feels toward him?

But it’s all she has.

“I think I’m done in here,” she tells him. A plan starts to unfold in her mind, and the smile on her face turns vengeful.

She knows what she wants to do next.

Oliver waits outside the conference room. It’s one of the more impressive ones he’s seen around New York, but of course it would be — this is AIG, after all.

Felicity’s standing in the doorway, her back straight and her eyes clear. She wiped the mascara tracks off her face in the cab on the way there, and he swears he’s never seen a more beautiful woman without a speck of makeup on her face than Felicity Smoak.

“Excuse me,” he hears her say. “Cathy told me to come on back. Cooper, can we talk for just one second? I’ll have him right back.”

The next thing he hears is a soft, “excuse me” and the creak of a chair, followed by the shuffle of footsteps as the asshole stands up and walks toward her. Oliver shakes his head — this Cooper guy must be stupider than he though, if he isn’t getting up to run in the opposite direction.

What follows is probably one of the most cathartic experiences he’s ever witnessed.

He sees a little of it from the doorway. Once Cooper is standing just a few feet away from her, Felicity swings her high-heeled foot and kicks him right in between the legs. Cooper lets out a groan of pain and doubles over, but Felicity isn’t finished. She rears back her arm and punches him right in the face.

Straight wrist and all.

A vindictive pleasure washes over him as he sees Cooper fall to the floor, blood spouting from his nose. Sure, Oliver wishes he was the one who could make the asshole bleed, but he also recognizes the need for Felicity to do it herself.

Plus, the smirk on her face is totally worth it.

“I made it to the rage phase,” she says as she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of her ex-boyfriend lying on the floor, clutching his crotch and bleeding all over his face.

Once she’s finished, she straightens up and strides right out of the room. She hardly glances his way as she walks past him, but her smile is enough to light up the whole room.

He hadn’t been lying when he told her she was impressive.

A few seconds later, Cooper struggles into a standing position and tries to follow her out. Seeing this, Oliver gets in his way and holds out his hand.

“No, no,” he says with a smirk. He will never, ever speak with Felicity Smoak again.

And so help him, if Oliver ever sees Cooper Seldon again, he wouldn’t be nearly as kind.

[thebeautyoftorah]

VAYIGASH

bs'd

Shalom. The thought of this week of my book Healing Anger is "A bad-tempered person’s mental reaction is that he should become angry if someone behaves in a manner that is against his will or if someone insults him. This immediate reaction is accompanied by mental imagery. He has pictures in his mind of how he will react in expressing his anger.” Buy my book at http://www.feldheim.com/healing-anger.html If you want to buy it from me in Israel let me know. You have the opportunity to share in the mitzvah to honor a loved one by sponsoring my weekly review, or refua shelema (healing), shiduch, Atzlacha. To join the over 4,000 recipients in English and Spanish and receive these insights free on a weekly email, feedback, comments, which has been all around the world, or if you know any other Jew who is interested in receiving these insights weekly, contact me. Shabbat Shalom.

VAYIGASH-Please, Don’t Complain About Your Life Towards the end of this week's Parsha, Yosef introduced his father Yaakov to Pharaoh who asked him,[1] “How old are you?” and Yaakov responded, “I am only 130 years old. But the days of my life have been few and evil and they have not reached the life spans of my forefathers in the days of their sojourns.”

Our Sages [2] wonder on the fact that the first question Pharaoh asked Yaakov upon meeting him is about his age. It seems totally bizarre the opening question upon meeting someone for the first time. The simple interpretation is that Yaakov gave the appearance of being extremely old and therefore Pharaoh questioned him about his age. However, according to the Midrash [3], when Yaakov complained about his life, G-d reprimanded him, saying, “I saved you from Esav and Lavan, I returned Dinah and Yosef to you and yet you grumble and complain? By your life, the number of words from ‘vayomer’ (and he said) until ‘bime megurehem’ (in the days of their sojourns) will be deducted from your life”.

The Midrash tells us that Yaakov avinu was punished for every word of complaint that he said starting from ‘And he said’ until ‘their sojourns.’ These 33 words explain the fact that Yaakov died at the age of 147, 33 fewer years than did his father, Yitzchak, who lived until the age of 180. [There is a tradition that the life span of a person is generally similar that of his parents']

Let's analyze this. We see that Yaakov complained about his bitter life and Hashem said, “What are you complaining about? I saved you from Lavan and Esav, I returned Dinah and Yosef!” The obvious question here is: Is this worthy of gratitude? G-d saved him from Esav? Yaakov suffered greatly because the persecution of his older brother! Hashem saved him from Lavan? Yaakov had to put up with that cheater for twenty-two years before Hashem saved him from Lavan!

Yaakov could have easily said to G-d: “You gave me back Dinah, my daughter who was raped?” “You gave me back Yosef, my dearest son, the son of my old age who I thought was dead for 22 years, You gave him back to me?” “Tell me, G-d, did I have a terribly and bitter life or not?”

Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz [4] says that it seems that the emphasis of the criticism of Yaakov was that he focused on the pain of those events, when instead he should have stressed the fact that HaShem saved him each time, despite the fact that he endured untold suffering in the midst of those episodes.

We see from this Chazal a very difficult and powerful lesson: sometimes painful episodes of our lives to do not end  in what we think is a positive way. However, on many occasions this is not the case and ultimately we are delivered from the pain. The challenge here is how we relate to the past events; do we focus on the pain and suffering, or on the final, positive result. G-d’s stern rebuke of Yaakov teaches us that we all have an obligation to try to focus on the positive ending and not dwell on the pain. Moreover, Rav Shmuelevitz’s additional observation makes an even more demanding requirement; even if a person underwent great suffering, he still has a responsibility to radiate a happy expression. A person can have trouble in life with his children. He can have enemies, go into exile and more, but life, even under trying circumstances is a beautiful gift no matter what. The gift of life itself, even with trials and tribulations, is worth living and we should radiate it. And if a person does not appreciate life, Hashem will hold him accountable [5].

But there is another fascinating insight from this Chazal: When we count the words from ‘Vayomer Yaakov el Paroh’ until ‘bime megurehem’ we see there are only 25 words. Daat Zekenim say that from ‘Vayomer’ until ‘megurehem’ there are 33 words!

The answer is that the count of 25 words is starting from the wrong ‘Vayomer.’ It is not the ‘Vayomer Yaakov el Paroh’ (and Yaakov said to Pharaoh) that is the basis of the punishment. It is the previous verse beginning ‘Vayomer Paroh el Yaakov…’ (and Pharaoh asked Yaakov, how old are you) that is the basis of the punishment! Counting from there, we find 33 words.

The question is, why should Yaakov lose eight years of life due to Pharaoh's curiosity? It just does not seem fair because Yaakov didn’t even open his mouth yet to complain. Why should the reckoning against him begin then?

We see from here that the reason why Pharaoh asked about Yaakov’s age was because he looked very old, much older than his years, shabby and bent over. Furthermore, since Yaakov was the image of Abraham and Pharaoh had never seen such an old-looking person, he suspected that the man in front of him was Abraham, who of course would have been far older. That is the complaint against Yaakov [6]. Looking old and feeling old, looking and feeling unhappy, in such a way that one is prompted to ask ‘How old are you?’ is not blameless; if a person’s internal attitude reflects on his outward appearance, and it transmits a negative message, then a person is held responsible for that. [A similar concept we learn in regards to anger. The Torah prohibits anger not only when it is verbalized or openly manifest. Even when someone doesn’t say a word, but his misery and anger is written all over his face, if he causes others pain by his actions, he have still transgressed the Torah’s prohibition of “You shall not aggrieve your fellow men.”]

Not only is there a blame for complaining about life and expressing it, but even if one feels that way and looks that way, it means that he does not have a proper appreciation of life! That too, is deserving of blame, to the extent that eight extra years were deducted from Yaakov's life. [7]

Many Gedolim endured great tragedies in their lives and yet a common thread was their positive demeanor. One striking example was the Brisker Rav: During the Holocaust, he lost his wife and three children. The pain was so great that he was unable to even talk about it and often had nightmares. He was also well-known for his great fear of HaShem. Yet Rav Moshe Shmuel Shapiro zt”l, a close student and relative, testified that the thing that stood out the most in the Brisker Rav’s home was the simcha that permeated the atmosphere.

May Hashem help us to truly appreciate the Gift of Life!

____________________________________ [1] Bereshit 47:8-9 [2] Daat Zekenim meBaale haTosafot 47:8 [3] Midrash haGadol 47 [4] Sichot Mussar, Maamar 29.

[5] Yaakov instituted the nighttime prayer of Maariv which refers to the tefila for the dark times in one's life. [6] Needless to say that Chazal always magnifies the mistakes of the great people in the Torah to make their example relevant to us. Yaakov Avinu underwent more suffering than we can ever imagine, still because of high spiritual level he was judged on a very exacting level for his words.

[7]Alternatively Pirke Avot 2:17 tells us, ... “One hour of repentance and good deeds in this world is better than all the life of the World to Come....

Le Iluy nishmat Eliahu ben Simcha, Mordechai ben Shlomo, Perla bat Simcha, Abraham Meir ben Leah, Moshe ben Gila,Yaakov ben Gila, Sara bat Gila, Yitzchak ben Perla, Leah bat Chavah, Abraham Meir ben Leah,Itamar Ben Reb Yehuda, Yehuda Ben Shmuel Tzvi, Tova Chaya bat Dovid. Refua Shelema of Mazal Tov bat Freja, Zahav Reuben ben Keyla, Yitzchak ben Mazal Tov, Chana bat Ester Beyla, Mattitiahu Yered ben Miriam, Yaacov ben Miriam, Yehuda ben Simcha, Menachem Chaim ben Malka, Naftali Dovid ben Naomi Tzipora, Nechemia Efraim ben Beyla Mina, Dvir ben Leah, Sender ben Sara, Eliezer Chaim ben Chaya Batya, Shlomo Yoel ben Chaya Leah, Dovid Yehoshua ben Leba, Shmuel ben Mazal Tov, Yosef Yitzchack ben Bracha. Atzlacha and parnasa tova to Daniel ben Mazal Tov, Debora Leah Bat Henshe Rachel, Shmuel ben Mazal tov, Yitzchak ben Mazal Tov, Yehuda ben Mazal Sara and Zivug agun to Gila bat Mazal Tov, Naftali Dovid ben Naomi Tzipora, Elisheva bat Malka. Pidyon anefesh-yeshua of Yosef Itai ben Eliana Shufra.                        

[apsbicepstraining]

Rob& Chyna Recap: Exactly Touched Down In Chyna Town

In this weeks thrilling peak into the life of, the cherishing duo make a trip-up to DC, the Kardashians we actually care about get cameos, and Rob learns what a waldorf salad is.

Most importantly, we get to finally convened some of Chynas family and MAN do occasions start to make a lot more sense Re: Chynas preferred method of confrontation.

Chynas mom is appointed Tokyo Toni and I am already over this occurrence. Chyna describes her as the realest being she knows. This doesnt looks a lot like often of a competition as Chyna lives in LA and spends most of her time hanging out with the Kardashians.

Tokyo Toni craves Rob and Chyna to come up to visit her in DC for the 4th of July so Rob can experience his first real obstruct defendant. Chyna known to be Rob would hate every part of this, so shes probably going to acquire him do it.

True love: checking in on your lovers Postmates orders to make sure he isnt cheating on his diet. How happy do you have to be to guild a Kit Kat on Postmates? Thats a grade of self-deprecation that I have yet to even reach.

Chyna tells Rob that she got a call from Kim and Khlo inviting her to Khlos birthday party. He had already known about the party but hadnt told her because he didnt want to go. Shocker. Something like Khlos birthday party would be high profile, aka Robs worst nightmare. To be fair, any party where I might have to stand next to Kendall Jenner in a photo “wouldve been” my worst nightmare as well.

They decide to go to the party together and no one even hollered in a vehicle or shed posies of buds into the consortium to get to that decision. Progress.

Chyna: Wow that was a healthy discussion that we handled like adults. Rob: Yeah. Chyna: So anyways gives examine my mommy next.

The second Chyna delivers up the 4h of July Rob just straight-up bails. Like, leaves her residence. You can only manage so many serious exchanges in a epoch before you were supposed to Postmates some Kit Kats, I suppose.

While getting ready for Khlos party, Rob has a meltdown about his outfit and tries to get out of going. Make she who hasnt tried to cancel proposals over a wardrobe failure shed the first stone. On the way to the party Rob casually removes that his diabetes may be acting up again. The last-place era this happened was because “hes been gone” cold turkey on his insulin and had to spend some time in the ICU. Person please explain to this grown adult that insulin isnt a Flinstones gummy vitamin that you can pa as you please.

Khlos birthday is at Dave& Busters, which leads me to believe that it might actually be her bat mitzvah. If anyone are determined to throw a mid-life coming of age ceremony for a religion they dont even follow, it would be a Kardashian.

Watching Khlo and Chyna interact is like the buildup to the watering hole situation in, and tbh I dont even know who would come out on top in that combat. Segment of me wants to think that being pregnant would slacken Chyna down, but even a dazzle Chyna at half-speed is even more capable of taking someone out than me at heyday fitness.

Rob stands for an hour to take photos before honcho dwelling. Weird , none of those seems to make it to Instagram.

Chyna sheds a BBQ after Khlos to try and continue Rob from reverting back to mole guy mode. She invites Scott, who proceeds to offer all the entertainment by talking about coke and Chynas dads dick. Scott is that guy that you bring to any event youre apprehensive about listening, because no matter the environment he will retain his outrageous, semi-drunk attitude.

Rob begrudgingly agrees to go to DC with Chyna and she starts the trip off with a tour of her childhood haunts. She stops to take some photos with love outside her old-time home and Rob instantly shuts down.

Rob : Im really nervous about this family dinner, hopefully it croaks smoothly. Chyna : Oh cool I invited my estranged mothers who havent spoken to in ten YEARS.

She also invited three of her half-siblings , nothing of who have met her baby. Tokyo Toni doesnt seem like the kind of woman you want to ambush with these concepts, which means that the producers 100% sent out the invites and told Chyna to play along.

Tokyo Toni shows up in what looks like a Japanese outfit with chopsticks sticking out of her hair, because no one is brave enough to explain culture appropriation to her.

They are, nonetheless, brave enough to tell her that Chyna is essentially the same age as two of her siblings, entailing her papa was cheating on Toni. This revealing doesnt come off well.

Rob: Im so glad that Chynas family is unstable, its truly taking the spotlight off me.

Toni lovingly tells the story of the first time she saw Chyna dancing at the golf-club, as if it was her first high school dance or something. This leads to the family plus Chynas suite heading toward Synsaysionals, Chynas first association. She describes it as a bit ratchet, so you are familiar with Rob is going to pass out about 30 seconds in.

The excursion to DC is clearly works out for Rob. Hes less uneasy, more self-confident in public, and even stops for a few photos with followers. Say what you will about the relations between the two countries, but Chyna is patently making progress here.

New drama: Hoard, Chynas oldest acquaintance, and Paige, Chynas current best friend, very clearly abhor each other. Treasure doesnt cartel Paige( real mention Mika) because she satisfied Chyna after she was far-famed. The shade is unreal. The entire gang is all out together bowling and Treasure wont even announce her Paige because its her LA name, which is a little hypocritical because. you are familiar with Blac Chyna is for sure birth given.

Paige leaves the bowling party early because Treasure isnt even attempting to hide her antagonism. Chyna convenes her back at the hotel and tells her to work it out or else. Im securely Team Paige on this one, because Treasure fears the shit out of me. By the time the 4th of July party comes around they still havent worked out their issues, so Chyna pulls them both aside and becomes them hash shit out in front of her. This mama tactic 101 establishes me thing Chyna is going to be a pretty solid momma. Frankly, Im delighted to see that I tolerated through the first two boring episodes of this demonstrate to get to this confrontation.

Treasure, in front of a gang of lighters and TV cameras: Im just worried that Paige is use Chyna for her fame.

Tokyo Toni gathers Rob and Chyna aside and sag some real trues. The difficulties Rob and Chyna have dont even compare to the shit that Toni went through: a poor 16 -year-old girl with a babe, figuring shit out on her own. She doesnt proceed so far as to call Rob a spoiled bitch, but the implication is there. Will this extremely feeling and alcohol-fueled admonition change Robs perspective on life? Probably not.

2600 miles back, Kris wakes up in a cold sweat with the vaguely menacing sense that someone is trying to mom her son. She recollects his failed sock thread and rollers over to go back to sleep.

The post Rob& Chyna Recap: Exactly Touched Down In Chyna Town appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[suledxn-blog]

Details:

Faith & Death. │ DC Edition.

***Warning: this does contain details about death/dying, murder, loss of memory, disassociation & unreality.

word count: 1,365

TL;DR: Revas' faith is something that saved her from death. Death & Faith are essential to who she is and how she acts. They make up a LARGE portion of her character. Reviving herself cost her memories. She's better now but sometimes it gets hard. But her faith keeps her from drifting and keeps her more in the present.

One of the most important character details about Revas is her faith. Whether it’s the unwavering devotional faith to Mythal, or the importance that her culture & history play. It’s a well known fact, or it should be, that I am someone who fully believes in elves being Jewish. ( more like Gaider implied it. And then backed from it bc he’s a coward. embrace ur fucking shit gaider. go big or fuck off.) 

  So in part of this I sort of wanna talk about Revas’ modern shit. Specifically in her Dc Verse. Mainly because this plays a rather important part of who she is in the verse. I'll post about main verse implications of her faith & death later. (bc I am hella hype about dc shit lmao)

    First. Story time.

 In every verse, Revas dies. I used to say almost but, I figured it was much more interesting to write it as she had died. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes days. In Dc? A Month. She was dead, and dying for a month. No one knew, no one cared. Buried in the snow. Buried and frozen. Of course, she lives. She comes back because there's no dying in Dc, let's face it. But in every case it is her will, her extreme strength of willpower and faith that brings her back. And it's no different this time around.

  In Judaism, most believe in the concept of focusing on the here and now. You focus on the present, and making memories that'll last. Some believe in an afterlife. Some believe in reincarnation, other resurrection. But, for Revas, she believes in both an afterlife, and living in the present. Now, I don't currently have specifics on where she was for the time being. I don't know if she had one foot in the grave, and kept her tie to the mortal world. I just know she remembers it. Remembers drifting, wading through the endless. It was calm, voidless. But she was content, pleased. It was a good place.

   Essentially, it was a place where she was living through the 14years of memory she had. The short amount of time she had grown. Happiness that she had with her parents. It was a place to reflect and feel at ease. But, of course, Revas remembered being alive. A fracture that caused her to see her death replay. To see herself die & kill in retaliation. The spark of magic that was ever present. It reminded her of living, & just how little of it she had done. But, there's always a price to pay for using magic. Especially the kind she was channeling.

     She could have stayed. Lived through happy memories, in bliss. But to live, she had to let go of those memories. Of who she was. Essentially be spat back into her body with no memory of who she was. Only how she died. A new person, a new life.

     End of story time. Sort of. Still some story. Not of how she died stories tho.

Revas died at age 14. Murdered in a gruesome way. Left on the street to die, of course so were her murderers.

Dying young, with no memory when you wake up, does something to you. Obviously. Especially when the only thing you do remember is your own death. It kept her up for nights, days. Of course, Eludysia helped the best she could. Eventually she spoke of religion. Told her of the family history. Of her history. She introduced her to her community. To people who cared for her, regardless of barely knowing her. She was a child, and needed guidance. So they helped.

  From a point her belief became a large part in dealing with her death. Making amends and fighting against the looming fear that yes. It's still here. She is, of course, afraid of dying. But because of her teachings, she focuses on the here and now. Focuses on the present over anything.

Which sort of makes her impulsive, ya know. Either she thinks it through, or she just goes for it. Usually it's the latter. Because she doesn't want to look at her memories and have a regret. ( Of course, we'll go into how this doesn't apply to relationships. Because she's a fucking moron but another time. )

Also her faith gives her something to hold onto. Some feeling of comfort, and guidance when she asks for it. She likes talking theories and enjoys bantering with others on their views of everything. It doesn't cause rifts, unless there was already one. The people who go to service, the people who attend temple, those are her people. And they make her feel comfortable with her beliefs. Pretty sure most of them went to her Graduation from College. To be honest.

 Her faith has always played a part in why she can look death in the eye, and swallow her fear. It's why she can be a hero. She fears death, perhaps not as much as she does being forgotten, but it happens more often than not. The unwavering sort of belief she has gives her strength in places that were ripped apart. It healed her.

  But that doesn't mean it can't be shaken. It doesn't mean when death touches the world around her, she shrugs it off. No, that. That probably eats at her belief more than anything. Death will always be there. Always be present and lingering. Waiting. Watching. At least she thinks so. But, she doesn't focus on that. She focuses on doing good, making memories that last with people she cares about.

            *** Next bit contains unreality/disassociation. ****

Really, faith & death go hand and hand with regards to Revas' character. It isn't something that's simply separated or divided a part. You can't have Revas be devoted to her faith without her crossing beyond. You can't have her cross & come back without faith being present afterwards. Of course, Revas was already tapped into her faith & community before dying. But she doesn't remember that. & she doesn't remember her Bat Mitzvah.

  Even the most skilled with magic, people who can see into memories, would waste energy on her memory then. Save for maybe omnipresent beings. Or whatever the equivalent is in DC. There's so little she recalls, ya know. So much death took from her. An equal exchange, she'd say now. Maybe before she fought it. Hated it. Maybe she looked off rooftops, and thought it would be better than the nightmares. She was new to living again. Confused. A crisis of am I really who I was or am I someone else now? It was a really hard time, finding herself. It always is. She will always stumble and look for some fragment of who she was. Some memory, some tiny spark of who she might have been. If she even is still the same person.

    It's a concept that still gets to her from time to time. Some nights when the nightmares are full blast and she wakes up screaming, frost biting into her skin. She wonders if she was still that girl that died. And then she thinks of how far shes come. The world she's seen. The person she is now. And calms herself. Warms herself with tea and sits on her fire escape, staring up at the sky. Because the sky is not empty, and that helps.

   Though I do want to say that Revas still has a hard time accepting the death of others. That will always be problem. She can gamble with her own life, her own fear, but she can't see it happening to people she loves. It just. Breaks her. But again. Subjects for another time.

[apsbicepstraining]

Rob& Chyna Recap: Exactly Touched Down In Chyna Town

In this weeks thrilling peak into the life of, the cherishing duo make a trip-up to DC, the Kardashians we actually care about get cameos, and Rob learns what a waldorf salad is.

Most importantly, we get to finally convened some of Chynas family and MAN do occasions start to make a lot more sense Re: Chynas preferred method of confrontation.

Chynas mom is appointed Tokyo Toni and I am already over this occurrence. Chyna describes her as the realest being she knows. This doesnt looks a lot like often of a competition as Chyna lives in LA and spends most of her time hanging out with the Kardashians.

Tokyo Toni craves Rob and Chyna to come up to visit her in DC for the 4th of July so Rob can experience his first real obstruct defendant. Chyna known to be Rob would hate every part of this, so shes probably going to acquire him do it.

True love: checking in on your lovers Postmates orders to make sure he isnt cheating on his diet. How happy do you have to be to guild a Kit Kat on Postmates? Thats a grade of self-deprecation that I have yet to even reach.

Chyna tells Rob that she got a call from Kim and Khlo inviting her to Khlos birthday party. He had already known about the party but hadnt told her because he didnt want to go. Shocker. Something like Khlos birthday party would be high profile, aka Robs worst nightmare. To be fair, any party where I might have to stand next to Kendall Jenner in a photo “wouldve been” my worst nightmare as well.

They decide to go to the party together and no one even hollered in a vehicle or shed posies of buds into the consortium to get to that decision. Progress.

Chyna: Wow that was a healthy discussion that we handled like adults. Rob: Yeah. Chyna: So anyways gives examine my mommy next.

The second Chyna delivers up the 4h of July Rob just straight-up bails. Like, leaves her residence. You can only manage so many serious exchanges in a epoch before you were supposed to Postmates some Kit Kats, I suppose.

While getting ready for Khlos party, Rob has a meltdown about his outfit and tries to get out of going. Make she who hasnt tried to cancel proposals over a wardrobe failure shed the first stone. On the way to the party Rob casually removes that his diabetes may be acting up again. The last-place era this happened was because “hes been gone” cold turkey on his insulin and had to spend some time in the ICU. Person please explain to this grown adult that insulin isnt a Flinstones gummy vitamin that you can pa as you please.

Khlos birthday is at Dave& Busters, which leads me to believe that it might actually be her bat mitzvah. If anyone are determined to throw a mid-life coming of age ceremony for a religion they dont even follow, it would be a Kardashian.

Watching Khlo and Chyna interact is like the buildup to the watering hole situation in, and tbh I dont even know who would come out on top in that combat. Segment of me wants to think that being pregnant would slacken Chyna down, but even a dazzle Chyna at half-speed is even more capable of taking someone out than me at heyday fitness.

Rob stands for an hour to take photos before honcho dwelling. Weird , none of those seems to make it to Instagram.

Chyna sheds a BBQ after Khlos to try and continue Rob from reverting back to mole guy mode. She invites Scott, who proceeds to offer all the entertainment by talking about coke and Chynas dads dick. Scott is that guy that you bring to any event youre apprehensive about listening, because no matter the environment he will retain his outrageous, semi-drunk attitude.

Rob begrudgingly agrees to go to DC with Chyna and she starts the trip off with a tour of her childhood haunts. She stops to take some photos with love outside her old-time home and Rob instantly shuts down.

Rob : Im really nervous about this family dinner, hopefully it croaks smoothly. Chyna : Oh cool I invited my estranged mothers who havent spoken to in ten YEARS.

She also invited three of her half-siblings , nothing of who have met her baby. Tokyo Toni doesnt seem like the kind of woman you want to ambush with these concepts, which means that the producers 100% sent out the invites and told Chyna to play along.

Tokyo Toni shows up in what looks like a Japanese outfit with chopsticks sticking out of her hair, because no one is brave enough to explain culture appropriation to her.

They are, nonetheless, brave enough to tell her that Chyna is essentially the same age as two of her siblings, entailing her papa was cheating on Toni. This revealing doesnt come off well.

Rob: Im so glad that Chynas family is unstable, its truly taking the spotlight off me.

Toni lovingly tells the story of the first time she saw Chyna dancing at the golf-club, as if it was her first high school dance or something. This leads to the family plus Chynas suite heading toward Synsaysionals, Chynas first association. She describes it as a bit ratchet, so you are familiar with Rob is going to pass out about 30 seconds in.

The excursion to DC is clearly works out for Rob. Hes less uneasy, more self-confident in public, and even stops for a few photos with followers. Say what you will about the relations between the two countries, but Chyna is patently making progress here.

New drama: Hoard, Chynas oldest acquaintance, and Paige, Chynas current best friend, very clearly abhor each other. Treasure doesnt cartel Paige( real mention Mika) because she satisfied Chyna after she was far-famed. The shade is unreal. The entire gang is all out together bowling and Treasure wont even announce her Paige because its her LA name, which is a little hypocritical because. you are familiar with Blac Chyna is for sure birth given.

Paige leaves the bowling party early because Treasure isnt even attempting to hide her antagonism. Chyna convenes her back at the hotel and tells her to work it out or else. Im securely Team Paige on this one, because Treasure fears the shit out of me. By the time the 4th of July party comes around they still havent worked out their issues, so Chyna pulls them both aside and becomes them hash shit out in front of her. This mama tactic 101 establishes me thing Chyna is going to be a pretty solid momma. Frankly, Im delighted to see that I tolerated through the first two boring episodes of this demonstrate to get to this confrontation.

Treasure, in front of a gang of lighters and TV cameras: Im just worried that Paige is use Chyna for her fame.

Tokyo Toni gathers Rob and Chyna aside and sag some real trues. The difficulties Rob and Chyna have dont even compare to the shit that Toni went through: a poor 16 -year-old girl with a babe, figuring shit out on her own. She doesnt proceed so far as to call Rob a spoiled bitch, but the implication is there. Will this extremely feeling and alcohol-fueled admonition change Robs perspective on life? Probably not.

2600 miles back, Kris wakes up in a cold sweat with the vaguely menacing sense that someone is trying to mom her son. She recollects his failed sock thread and rollers over to go back to sleep.

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Rob& Chyna Recap: Exactly Touched Down In Chyna Town

In this weeks thrilling peak into the life of, the cherishing duo make a trip-up to DC, the Kardashians we actually care about get cameos, and Rob learns what a waldorf salad is.

Most importantly, we get to finally convened some of Chynas family and MAN do occasions start to make a lot more sense Re: Chynas preferred method of confrontation.

Chynas mom is appointed Tokyo Toni and I am already over this occurrence. Chyna describes her as the realest being she knows. This doesnt looks a lot like often of a competition as Chyna lives in LA and spends most of her time hanging out with the Kardashians.

Tokyo Toni craves Rob and Chyna to come up to visit her in DC for the 4th of July so Rob can experience his first real obstruct defendant. Chyna known to be Rob would hate every part of this, so shes probably going to acquire him do it.

True love: checking in on your lovers Postmates orders to make sure he isnt cheating on his diet. How happy do you have to be to guild a Kit Kat on Postmates? Thats a grade of self-deprecation that I have yet to even reach.

Chyna tells Rob that she got a call from Kim and Khlo inviting her to Khlos birthday party. He had already known about the party but hadnt told her because he didnt want to go. Shocker. Something like Khlos birthday party would be high profile, aka Robs worst nightmare. To be fair, any party where I might have to stand next to Kendall Jenner in a photo “wouldve been” my worst nightmare as well.

They decide to go to the party together and no one even hollered in a vehicle or shed posies of buds into the consortium to get to that decision. Progress.

Chyna: Wow that was a healthy discussion that we handled like adults. Rob: Yeah. Chyna: So anyways gives examine my mommy next.

The second Chyna delivers up the 4h of July Rob just straight-up bails. Like, leaves her residence. You can only manage so many serious exchanges in a epoch before you were supposed to Postmates some Kit Kats, I suppose.

While getting ready for Khlos party, Rob has a meltdown about his outfit and tries to get out of going. Make she who hasnt tried to cancel proposals over a wardrobe failure shed the first stone. On the way to the party Rob casually removes that his diabetes may be acting up again. The last-place era this happened was because “hes been gone” cold turkey on his insulin and had to spend some time in the ICU. Person please explain to this grown adult that insulin isnt a Flinstones gummy vitamin that you can pa as you please.

Khlos birthday is at Dave& Busters, which leads me to believe that it might actually be her bat mitzvah. If anyone are determined to throw a mid-life coming of age ceremony for a religion they dont even follow, it would be a Kardashian.

Watching Khlo and Chyna interact is like the buildup to the watering hole situation in, and tbh I dont even know who would come out on top in that combat. Segment of me wants to think that being pregnant would slacken Chyna down, but even a dazzle Chyna at half-speed is even more capable of taking someone out than me at heyday fitness.

Rob stands for an hour to take photos before honcho dwelling. Weird , none of those seems to make it to Instagram.

Chyna sheds a BBQ after Khlos to try and continue Rob from reverting back to mole guy mode. She invites Scott, who proceeds to offer all the entertainment by talking about coke and Chynas dads dick. Scott is that guy that you bring to any event youre apprehensive about listening, because no matter the environment he will retain his outrageous, semi-drunk attitude.

Rob begrudgingly agrees to go to DC with Chyna and she starts the trip off with a tour of her childhood haunts. She stops to take some photos with love outside her old-time home and Rob instantly shuts down.

Rob : Im really nervous about this family dinner, hopefully it croaks smoothly. Chyna : Oh cool I invited my estranged mothers who havent spoken to in ten YEARS.

She also invited three of her half-siblings , nothing of who have met her baby. Tokyo Toni doesnt seem like the kind of woman you want to ambush with these concepts, which means that the producers 100% sent out the invites and told Chyna to play along.

Tokyo Toni shows up in what looks like a Japanese outfit with chopsticks sticking out of her hair, because no one is brave enough to explain culture appropriation to her.

They are, nonetheless, brave enough to tell her that Chyna is essentially the same age as two of her siblings, entailing her papa was cheating on Toni. This revealing doesnt come off well.

Rob: Im so glad that Chynas family is unstable, its truly taking the spotlight off me.

Toni lovingly tells the story of the first time she saw Chyna dancing at the golf-club, as if it was her first high school dance or something. This leads to the family plus Chynas suite heading toward Synsaysionals, Chynas first association. She describes it as a bit ratchet, so you are familiar with Rob is going to pass out about 30 seconds in.

The excursion to DC is clearly works out for Rob. Hes less uneasy, more self-confident in public, and even stops for a few photos with followers. Say what you will about the relations between the two countries, but Chyna is patently making progress here.

New drama: Hoard, Chynas oldest acquaintance, and Paige, Chynas current best friend, very clearly abhor each other. Treasure doesnt cartel Paige( real mention Mika) because she satisfied Chyna after she was far-famed. The shade is unreal. The entire gang is all out together bowling and Treasure wont even announce her Paige because its her LA name, which is a little hypocritical because. you are familiar with Blac Chyna is for sure birth given.

Paige leaves the bowling party early because Treasure isnt even attempting to hide her antagonism. Chyna convenes her back at the hotel and tells her to work it out or else. Im securely Team Paige on this one, because Treasure fears the shit out of me. By the time the 4th of July party comes around they still havent worked out their issues, so Chyna pulls them both aside and becomes them hash shit out in front of her. This mama tactic 101 establishes me thing Chyna is going to be a pretty solid momma. Frankly, Im delighted to see that I tolerated through the first two boring episodes of this demonstrate to get to this confrontation.

Treasure, in front of a gang of lighters and TV cameras: Im just worried that Paige is use Chyna for her fame.

Tokyo Toni gathers Rob and Chyna aside and sag some real trues. The difficulties Rob and Chyna have dont even compare to the shit that Toni went through: a poor 16 -year-old girl with a babe, figuring shit out on her own. She doesnt proceed so far as to call Rob a spoiled bitch, but the implication is there. Will this extremely feeling and alcohol-fueled admonition change Robs perspective on life? Probably not.

2600 miles back, Kris wakes up in a cold sweat with the vaguely menacing sense that someone is trying to mom her son. She recollects his failed sock thread and rollers over to go back to sleep.

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