#look how fucking pretty luxor is man

[theosconfessions]

Love is Embarrassing

Ep 1- House 2- Luxor

@simvanie

scarlett: i didnt blow it did i me and luxor: [grimaces] haha! it was hard to watch. i thinkkkk its the celebrity thing. just because this happened to all of the celebs that were entered in this bc. and some of them indulged her for real but luxor just wasnt having it in the intros. BUT DO NOT WORRY this is only the intros :) he'll get more time for scarlett to embarrass herself in front of him later on down the line when we get to solo dates/group dates all of that. ALSO I LOVE HIM. look how fucking good looking he is man. jesus christ. but scarlett my love... you .. shouldve listened to sofia haha!

[peppermintquartz]

Under the Mask

(if you haven't read the first chapter, go here)

*

Kana hears the song of the ice cream truck before she sees it coming down the road. On a whim, she jumps onto a red Honda and waves at Sweet Tooth.

He honks in response. It's a fifty-fifty chance between him accelerating to knock her down and crush her under the wheels and him stopping.

She's played worse chances. It's Vegas, baby.

Sweet Tooth rolls to a stop, but he keeps out of spitting distance from her. She'd take offense if she doesn't know she'd do the same in his place.

Hey, crazy clowns are crazy, not stupid.

"We're heading outta town on a road trip," Sweet Tooth says. "Wanna come with?"

We? She tiptoes and spies Harold, secured with the seatbelt. Glancing down, Asuka says she thinks it'll be good to get out of the city, taste some new blood.

Kana agrees.

She hops down from the Honda and runs to the truck. Her own car is near Luxor which, if Sweet Tooth is indeed getting out of Vegas, they will drive past.

When she gets to the back, she stops in surprise.

Who the fuck is this guy.

The young man with long dark hair and big brown eyes smiles. "I'm his muse."

*

Kana sits facing the Muse. It's not a hardship. He's pretty easy on the eyes.

"Thanks. Who are you?"

"She's a friend," Sweet Tooth says. It's a lie. Just because they came from the same place and live on Vegas together doesn't make them friends.

Sweet Tooth looks over his shoulder and puts one hand on his massive chest. "That hurt my feelings, Kana."

Boo-fucking-hoo.

In the front passenger seat, Harold and Asuka are making out. Kana thinks it's obscene how Asuka is all the way inside Harold, but hey, different strokes for different folks.

The Muse peers over the back of the chair. Kana smacks him.

"The mask's name is Asuka?"

What mask?

"Ah, sorry. I mean, your friend's name is Asuka?"

This guy is a moron. Sweet Tooth has picked an idiot for a muse.

"Technically, he's co-writer and co-producer," Sweet Tooth corrects her. "We're gonna scout locations and, well. Been a few years since I saw Ma." He sounds almost bashful.

Be nice to see the old place again. Kana looks at the Muse and at the clown driving, and comes to a conclusion. Sweet Tooth has a fucking crush.

"You take that back!" Sweet Tooth roars, slamming on the brakes and throwing both Kana and the Muse forward.

Kana grabs Asuka, dodging Sweet Tooth's beefy arm cleverly, and sprays mist into his face. He shouts again, this time in pain, and Kana escapes out the back while the Muse tries to calm Sweet Tooth down long enough to rinse his eyes out.

What a baby. She didn't even use the strong stuff.

*

Cedric stands at parade rest as Stone strides past with the Bootlicker Siblings at his heels. He knows he's being watched closely. After all, he and Mustafa were buddies who came up through the ranks together.

But Mustafa disappeared while Cedric was working at HQ all day sorting out ORLs, and cameras show he never stepped out of the room. They can't pin Mustafa's escape on him, either; Cedric is well-liked and the younger people trust him.

That last bit is what's keeping Stone from killing him outright, Cedric knows. Stone needs everyone's support or he has nothing. Cedric has toed the line at all times, never questioned authority at all. Still, Stone has a camera trained on Cedric nearly all times of the day, and when there isn't a camera nearby, a spy will be following Cedric.

But here's the secret: you can set all the cameras and spies on a person, but you can't see inside their mind.

Cedric is sick with rage at what's been done to Mustafa's mom. The way they dragged her through the streets, leaving a trail of skin and flesh and blood. The woman died in agony, her body later added to the trash heap, and it had taken Cedric every ounce of control not to shoot Stone on sight the morning after.

No, if he does kill the man, he'll do it where everyone can see Stone crawling and begging for mercy.

He hopes Mustafa is still safe and alive out there. I've got your back, Moose. I need you to have mine.

[jckelly]

updated intro / jack 101

Is that JACK KELLY? Wow, they do look a lot like VAN MCCANN. I hear HE is an NINETEEN year old FRESHMEN who are studying AEROSPACE ENGINEERING  at Luxor University. Word is they are an ARISTOCRAT student. You should watch out because they can be PHILOPHOBIC and INSINCERE, but on the bright side they can also be WITTY and IMAGINATIVE. Ultimately, you’ll get to see it all for yourself. [YUNI, 21, GMT, SHE/HER]

 the other two got updated intros n rat man felt left out

basics

full name: jackson noel kelly 

nicknames: jack (does not answer to jackson)

date of birth: december 25, 2001

zodiac: capricorn sun, leo ascendant, sagittarius moon

nationality: dual uk and us citizenship

sexual orientation: straight but will try anything once

course: aerospace engineering

appearance

faceclaim: van mccann 

voiceclaim: van mccann

ethnicity: white (english, irish)

height: 5′8 / 173cm

weight: 58kg / 127lbs

eye colour: blue

hair colour: brown

distinctive features: freckles (many), left ear pierced, scars on his wrists usually covered by long sleeves, northern english accent

clothing preferences: jack prefers to only wear black, or at a push grey, although he’s slowly improving and will Occasionally mix it up with ... navy. his style is pretty basic, usually just a sweater, jeans, and beat up black converse or doc martens depending on how emo he’s feeling. the sheffield united hoodie makes an appearance every time someone forgets precisely which uk city jack is from. 

personality

overview

positive traits: witty, imaginative, perseverant, passionate

negative traits: philophobic, disloyal, insincere, callous

mbti: entp

religious beliefs: atheist

description

the first side most people see of jack is the side he wants you to see. a total asshole. it’s not an exaggeration - he’s pretty much infamous for flirting with everyone, dating anyone and as a serial cheater. he’ll actively try to worm his way into your life, and then just when you start to care, he does something to hurt you. he’s strangely persistent, probably helping him to push people even further, until they snap. there is nothing which satisfies him more than managing to wind people up to the extreme, get them to the point where they give up. adopted parents, friends, nobody is immune to this side - he even tries it on the people he genuinely cares about, as if just to see if he’ll still be able to push them away.

the second side, which most people don’t see, is that at heart jack is a kid. he’s the type of person to ask if owls have ears at 3am, or get some childlike joy out of dumb jokes. of course, this is the side nobody but a very small number of people see. and even if you do see it, it never lasts long. he keeps his true personality under wraps even amongst those he does like, and it only slips out if he’s extremely comfortable with you. otherwise, he’ll go straight back to being a sarcastic, flirty piece of shit.

biography

jackson noel kelly was born in hell on ironically christmas day to his father satan......

jk

jack and his older half brother finn were born in sheffield, united kingdom, to a single mother. a drug addict, she was notorious among social workers for neglecting her children and as a result jack shuffled between foster homes and his mother’s home during his first ten years of life, with finn, less than four years older than him, being his primary carer even when he was back with his birth family. this cycle finally ended when jack was ten and he was permanently removed from his mother’s care, and placed in the first of a series of foster homes which didn’t last particularly long.

the thing was, jack’s remarkably good at pushing people away when he wants to, and as he got older his talents only increased. running away, wreaking havoc, insulting anyone who tried to get close and anything else he could possibly think of meant that for three years he lasted no longer than eight months in any one place. in fact, he frequently took himself back to live with his birth family until social services came to drag him out again. this lifestyle continued until he was fostered by his now adopted parents, claire and george, at thirteen.

much to jack’s dismay, no matter of hell raising would push these newest set of parents away. in fact, they seemed absolutely set on raising him as Their Son, even as his attempts to get them off his back got more and more extravagant. they removed him from his previous school, transferred him to a fancy private school, put him in therapy and tried their best to help him get through all of the issues developed through his slightly fucked up childhood.

the thing was, jack loves his mother. he still refuses to see her as being in the wrong, no matter what people tell him or what he himself recalls, in his mind he has one mother and that’s his birth mother. so he did not take kindly to attempts by his foster parents to become his “new” family, because in jack’s mind? he already had a family. and even though they were actively encouraging him to continue contact with his brother, he couldn’t help but see them as trying to replace his birth family.

jack’s fifteenth year pretty much became the year when all of these issues finally came to a head. he was adopted legally by his foster parents, who had now been fostering him for two years - which should have been a happy occasion, but for jack represented the final loss, the final betrayal to his birth mother and brother. then shortly after his fifteenth birthday his brother went to prison at eighteen for grievous bodily harm, having glassed another boy after an argument.

of course, it would later be revealed that in actuality the assault had been committed by jack. and that finn was simply covering for him. (they looked alike enough that questions were not raised, it had happened so fast.) but in the eyes of jack’s adopted parents, finn was now a dangerous offender and jack had to be protected from him. so he was then isolated from his brother, his mother had relapsed and his continuous guilt over being adopted played on his mind, culminating in a suicide attempt in march 2017. 

of course, he wasn’t successful, but this was the final straw in the minds of his adopted parents. they felt jack needed a fresh start, away from the people who had defined his life prior to that point. so by his sixteenth birthday, jack had been moved to the united states to be near the family of his adopted mother, and subsequently enrolled in luxor academy. 

where he continued to be a menace :))

although it did appear, for some time, that jack was showing signs of improvement. sure, he was still wreaking havoc at luxor. but at home, he had calmed, even showing signs of affection to his adopted family. until his mother overdosed suddenly and died when jack was eighteen and things started to immediately go straight downhill again.

he can’t help but blame himself, for allowing himself to be moved. for the move being his fault, if he’s being honest. and if the honesty continues, jack’s got a whole lot of other stuff to blame on himself. (see: ruining his brother’s life.) so now he’s just taking shit out on everyone to try and make them a fraction as miserable as him. 

npc connections

birth fam

finn kelly / fc: jake bugg / b. may 10 1998 / taurus sun, gemini ascendant, pisces moon

finley, who also refuses to use his full name, is jack’s older brother - same mother, different father.  jack thinks he’s boring because he doesn’t raise hell with every opportunity. finn calls this “being a sane person.” went to prison for jack and regrets it. pastimes include crying over murakami books and trying to look shocked when jack tells him about the newest crisis he’s having. 

lauren kelly / fc: elena tonra / b. february 20 1983 - d. april 1 2020 / pisces sun, aries ascendant, leo moon

jack’s birth mother, who was still a teenager when he and finn were born. she was an on again, off again drug addict and had jack removed from her care when he was ten due to continued neglect. instilled in him a love for oasis and a hefty number of mental health issues. looked pretty much exactly like jack. 

jordan taylor / fc: alex turner / b. october 12 1984 / libra sun, leo ascendant, virgo moon

jack’s birth father, who he knows little about. not for lack of trying on his father’s part, who was prevented from seeing jack as a child by his birth mother and blocked from trying to make contact by jack’s refusal to interact. he keeps trying to message jack and jack is running out of daddy issues memes to respond with. finn thinks jack should give him a chance to redeem himself. jack thinks finn should fuck off. 

adopted fam

claire fielding / fc: julia roberts / b. may 12 1964 / taurus sun, cancer ascendant, leo moon

jack’s adopted mother. loves him very much and is convinced he is a sweet boy who just needs love and help. has written a memoir about adopting jack. jack is mad at her constantly. when he is not mad at her, he is embarrassed by her existence. honestly deserves better.

george fielding / fc: timothy olyphant / b. november 6, 1963 / scorpio sun, capricorn ascendant, virgo moon

is proud of jack, but very deep down underneath a strong layer of calling jack out on his bullshit. has some loud ass shouting matches with jack. also really wishes jack would sort his hair out and maybe not look like a cheap liam gallagher. jack honestly just winds him up constantly and he knows jack is doing it but goddamnit it’s so hard to not be mad at the little rat. 

other

maisie adeyemi / fc: yewande biala / b. january 6, 1997 / capricorn sun, sagittarius ascendant, aries moon

finn’s fiancee. her goal in life is to try to get jack to ruin finn’s life at least 70% less often. she has yet to achieve this goal. her love language is setting finn’s phone to silent when he goes to bed to stop jack from phoning in with some sort of random crisis at four in the morning because the little shit forgot timezones exist. finn will never find out. maisie is grateful that men have no brains. 

[thelittlestcheshire]

even if you have to cry, don't let your crown fall

a love letter to luxor’s ches elswood

Well, it’s finally time that I feel ready to post this, and while I’m aware it may be bittersweet with my upcoming departure, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Today I present to you a three hour Ches playlist, divided into sections and covering her entire time at Luxor, from when I first picked her up in June of 2019 all the way to now. There’s quite a few plot references, and small (and not as small) references to other muses throughout, especially when it comes to Elliot, so keep an eye out for those as well!

I’d like to thank Lex for giving me the idea to make these, and her support throughout the process because without her, these playlists wouldn’t even exist. And thank you to everyone who has gone on this journey with us, while I’m sorry I need to dip out early after this event to focus on my health, I love y’all so much.

The standard Ches tws apply (poor mental health, alcoholism, etc etc), and anything I think may be a bit abnormal / section exclusive is noted on the sections.

twist me like a key, then you open the lock | pre-luxor:

the section of time before I played Ches at Luxor, very James heavy. additional tws: Death (Sign of the Times), Toxic relationships (nothing explicit tho)

Sign of the Times (Jasmine Thompson) [ Remember everything will be alright. We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here. ] // Sweet Ophelia (Zella Day) [ Singing like it's a full moon, careless now that he has you. Turns you on to the right songs, promises that you're hooked on. ] // Couple of Kids (Maggie Lindemann) [ Now I'm fallin' heavily, recklessly, trying not to lose my sensibility; but gravity, it pulls me into you. ] // Glowstick (Sofia Karlberg) [ You play me like a line-up; long con, you make me wise up. ] // Crying in the Club (Camila Cabello) [ Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, let the beat carry away, your tears as they fall, baby. Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, with a little faith, your tears turn to ecstasy. ] // Ember (Katherine McNamara) [ Reignite; you lost your grip on me, and now I blaze wild and free. ]

nobody shows up unless i'm paying, have a drink on me cheers to the failing | summer & fall 2019:

the first time I was at Luxor playing ches, from June - October 2019

7 rings (Ariana Grande) [ Been through some bad shit, I should be a sad bitch. Who woulda thought it'd turn me to a savage? ] // I'm a Mess (Bebe Rexha) [ “It's gonna be a good, good life;” that's what my therapists say. ] // OMG (Little Mix) [ Oh my gosh, I did it again. He said I broke his heart, it keeps happening. ] // Only Angel (Harry Styles) [ Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short, but I think that's what I like about it. ] // LA Devotee (Panic! At The Disco) [ Drinking white wine in the blushing light, just another LA Devotee. ] // Woman Like Me (Little Mix feat. Nicki Minaj) [ I made a few mistakes, I regret it nightly. I broke a couple hearts that I wear on my sleeve. ]

all of this emptiness i've been sharing, it never comes when i want it to | winter 2019:

the period of time Ches went home to be with her family and was away from luxor additional tws: vomiting (Habits (Stay High))

Carmen (Lana Del Rey) [ Darlin’, darlin’, doesn't have a problem lyin’ to herself ‘cause her liquor’s top shelf ] // How You Remind Me (Avril Lavigne) [ And I've been wrong, I've been down, been to the bottom of every bottle. These five words in my head scream, "Are we havin' fun yet?" ] // Playing God (Paramore) [ This is the last second chance (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm half as good as it gets (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm on both sides of the fence (I'll point you to the mirror). Without a hint of regret, I'll hold you to it ] // Habits {Stay High} (Tove Lo) [ Staying in my play pretend, where the fun ain't got no end. Oh, can't go home alone again, need someone to numb the pain. ] // Bedroom Window (The Pretty Reckless) [ As I look out of my bedroom window; is it all real or just fantasy? I have lost touch with what makes me human, I have lost touch with reality. ] // Impossible Year (Panic! At The Disco) [ There's no sunshine, this impossible year; only black days and sky grey and clouds full of fear. ]

i wouldn't say you got the best of me, i'd say you got me somewhere in between | spring 2020:

Ches’s return to Luxor, and the months following leading up to her mass text about Leo’s dad following the Lake Bash

3 O'Clock Things (AJR) [ Would you go running if you saw the real me? Maybe you'd love 'em, yeah, maybe you'd feel me. ] // Wild Heart (Bleachers) [ Well, everything has changed and now I can't tell what matters. I will find any way to your wild heart. ] // Rise (Katy Perry) [ When the fire's at my feet again and the vultures all start circling. They're whispering, “you're out of time.” But still, I rise. ] // Don't Stop Me Now (Queen) [ I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars on a collision course. I am a satellite, I'm out of control. ] // Princesses Don't Cry (CARYS) [ Girls, so pretty and poised and soft to the touch, but God made me rough. Girls, so heavy the crown, they carry it tall, but it's weighing me down. ] // Save Rock And Roll (Fall Out Boy feat. Elton John) [ You are what you love, not who loves you. In a world full of the word 'yes', I'm here to scream... no, no (no, no). ] // Making a Monster out of Me (Katherine McNamara) [ And I don't know how to recollect the morals that I always did possess. Don't know where its leading me. ] // We Don't Have To Dance (Andy Black) [ You're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself. I'll break it to you easy. This is hell, this is hell. ]

tonight it's alright, i can see the tunnel at the end of these lights | summer 2020:

summer camp and the months leading up to a new school year

Night Owls Early Birds (Foxes) [ A wild fire inside me burns. Why do I look like I'm wear for worse? Save me, save me, go underneath the ground. ] // Too Much (Carly Rae Jepsen) [ When I party, then I party too much. When I feel it, then I feel it too much. When I'm thinking, then I'm thinking too much. When I'm drinking, then I'm drinking too much. ] // Royal Blue (Alberto Rosende) [ My regrets are a shade around my neck I know. It's torturous, and there's a burden that I can't let go. ] // Who You Selling For (The Pretty Reckless) [ And when Roger showed me I was building a wall. I've been waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting for it to fall. ] // Heavy (Linkin Park feat. Kiiara) [ You say that I'm paranoid, but I’m pretty sure the world is out to get me. It’s not like I make the choice to let my mind stay so fucking messy. ] // The Archer (Taylor Swift) [ I've been the archer, I've been the prey; screaming, “who could ever leave me,” darling. But who could stay? ] // Everybody Lost Somebody (Bleachers) [ And there's a reason I wake up alone in strange places, a reason I see myself in a million faces, a reason I can't stop it all from changing. So come on, motherfucker, you survive, you gotta give yourself a break. ]

no cameras catch my muffled cries. i counted days, i counted miles | fall and winter 2020(/21):

a new school year, from the start of the semester right until the aftermath of the kings’ party

So It Goes (Guards) [ I don't know who I am but I do know who I'm not. I'm just looking for a friend, I'm still searching for the plot. ] // Wasabi (Little Mix) [ Love to hate me, praise me, shame me; either way, you talk about me. ] // Think Before I Talk (Astrid S) [ Maybe I should think before I talk; I get emotional and words come out all wrong. Sometimes I'm more honest than I want. ] // Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince (Taylor Swift) [ No cameras catch my muffled cries. I counted days, I counted miles to see you there, to see you there. And now the storm is coming, but... ] // Sober Up (AJR feat. Rivers Cuomo) [ Won't you help me sober up? Growin' up, it made me numb, and I wanna feel somethin' again. ] // The Show Must Go On (Queen) [ Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score, on and on. Does anybody know what we are looking for? ] // Waiting For A Friend (The Pretty Reckless) [ My head is like a prison cell, I'm all by myself. I'm waiting for my friend to come and break me out. ] // Sober (Demi Lovato) [ I'm sorry that I'm here again, I promise I'll get help. It wasn't my intention, I'm sorry to myself. ] // Eight (Sleeping At Last) [ I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut, and bury my innocence. But here's a map, here's a shovel, here's my Achilles' heel. ]

i got this handled, i don't need rescuing | spring and early summer 2021:

ches’s progress from the end of march until now

The Man (Taylor Swift) [ I’m so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man. And I'm so sick of them coming at me again, 'cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man. ] // Princess (FLETCHER) [ But we're all going through it, so why do we do it? Why do we hide? ] // Humpty Dumpty (AJR) [ If I can't breathe, then you can't see, but aren't you excited that I'm giving you the best me? ] // My Mistake (Gabrielle Aplin) [ Am I jaded? Am I meant to feel this way?  I'm a loser, getting beat by my own game. But if I falter, well, at least it was my mistake. ] // The Climb (Miley Cyrus) [ The struggles I'm facing, the chances I'm taking; sometimes might knock me down, but no, I'm not breaking. ] // breathin (Ariana Grande) [ Some days, things just take way too much of my energy. I look up and the whole room's spinning. You take my cares away. ] // Clean (Taylor Swift) [ Ten months sober, I must admit just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it. Ten months older, I won't give in, now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it. ] // Not a Pop Song (Little Mix) [ A hamster on a wheel that's how it feels tryna be real. These unrealistic expectations said we'll make it if we fake it. ] // Queen (Loren Gray) [ Eyes on me like I'm a prize but you better recognize I'm not your angel 'cause I belong to me. ] // The Cure (Little Mix) [ This happiness was always inside me but Lord, it took a minute to find me. ]

[skypagex]

let me see you get yourself out of this situation

aka three unlikely allies ditch detention and go on an adventure

word count: 2320

trigger warnings: stds (aids mention), drugs, nsfw mention

Okay, so maybe the detention is fully deserved. Sky probably shouldn’t have hotboxed his bedroom and expected to get away with it. In fact, he was pretty lucky to get away with detention, although he suspects that’s related to his mother’s call to the school and probable sizeable donation. (He should never have texted her. He knows that’s a bad idea. Thanks for the soccer team uniforms or whatever, mom.)

But regardless of how much he deserves to be in detention, he can still think of about a billion things he’d rather do than come into an almost empty room to the sight of Jack fucking Kelly (or is it Fielding? To be honest, he remains wilfully oblivious to the Jack updates. Like if he ignores him he’ll cease to exist) sprawled across the back row of seats with a smirk on his lips that so obviously says that this is his domain and Sky is trespassing. As if he owns the whole fucking room.

(Knowing Jack, he probably thinks he does. Not that Sky has had much personal contact with the boy besides an odd rumour that he died. But the boy’s reputation seems to carry through the school like a biblical plague of locusts. And besides, Sky’s friendship with Juliet gives him equal parts way too much information about Jack’s personal habits and currently, post break up, far more information about how disgustingly horrible he is. Either way, he’s well aware that there’s a sizeable ego present. He’s almost jealous, to be honest. Sometimes Sky feels like if he had Jack’s ego he’d probably be a rock star already.)

Still, he’s hoping that maybe he can pass under the radar of the British boy long enough to make it through at least half of the detention, maybe more, considering that the teacher has already apparently left - probably done with the delinquents before having even begun to lecture them on their crimes - so if Jack so much as starts a conversation Sky’s pretty sure there’s nothing present to hold him back from absolutely verbally annihilating Sky, which will therefore mean there’s nothing present to hold Sky back from tears and public humiliation. It’s hard being a crybaby, you know?

Such hopes are almost immediately dashed when Jack turns and gives Sky the most ravenous look he’s ever seen another human come up with, like Jack is starving and Sky is a walking hamburger about to satiate him. Yum.

“Pagey,” well there’s a nickname Sky didn’t know he had, and to be honest it makes him feel slightly nauseous even knowing that Jack has whole separate nicknames for him that he doesn’t even know about. How the fuck does Jack know everyone at the fucking school anyway? “How’d you end up here? Cried so much you flooded your bedroom?”

(Which would be insulting enough even if it wasn’t a plausible suggestion and didn’t need the rude addition of Jack proceeding to laugh at his own joke.)

Fortunately Sky’s saved from the perils of having to answer the question by the slamming of the door, which indicates the arrival of a third addition to the detention squad: a blonde girl, he thinks he’s seen her in a shared class (Helena or something along those lines, definitely the same name as a My Chemical Romance song since he remembers thinking that at registration) and a disgusted look upon her face as she has the same realisation as Sky upon seeing Jack’s face: that they are well and truly fucked.

“God,” Helena (if that’s really her name, Sky hopes it is because he suspects from her demeanour that she’s not the type to take a misnaming incident lightly) “was detention itself not punishment enough? Are they truly going to make me  look at your ratty little face for an entire forty five minutes? I feel ill just thinking about it,” she placed a hand over her chest as if the sight of Jack was causing her physical pain. Relatable, to be honest.

“I know,” and in that moment Sky feels more grateful than ever because it’s clear from Jack’s tone of voice that his admirably short attention span has now passed Sky straight over in favour of a pretty worthy opponent. “You really should complain, love. Like, how is getting to look at me for free a fucking punishment? It’s like getting to go into the Tate Modern for nothing.”

“The Tate Modern is already free,” Sky says helpfully. He is ignored.

“Your confidence,” Helena blasts back, “is truly insane considering how absolutely disgusting your physical appearance is. Have you considered being committed to a mental asylum at any point?”

“I would,” Jack counters, “but how could I? When the population of Luxor would just pine for me. Nothing would be interesting if I left.”

“Contrary to your totally unfounded belief, not everything in this school involves you.”

“Possibly,” the boy reasons, and then the smirk returns. “But you have to admit the majority of things do.”

Seemingly done with the conversation, Helena stomps over to the desk next to Sky and sets her things down. Her meaning is pretty clear to him: you’ll do, in comparison to being sat next to rat man.

The ticking of the clock succeeds in covering for their lack of conversation for all of about five minutes before Jack apparently just cannot keep words in his own head anymore and has to interrupt the perfectly nice silence again: “so how did you end up in detention, princess? Kiss a frog?”

“I don’t recall having any physical relations with you,” Helena says haughtily. “If I did, I can assure you I must have been under some sort of influence unwillingly and therefore I shall be suing imminently. And if you must know, I am being unfairly victimised for skipping my medieval lecture for a perfectly valid reason.”

“To get a nose job?” Jack asks innocently, “or was it Botox?”

That elicits a slight smile from Sky, which reminds the other two that he does in fact exist and it’s almost funny the way they both turn to face him as Jack continues his questioning, “what about you, Pagey?”

“Uh,” his mouth goes dry and he gulps, “weed… stuff,” he finishes lamely, shrugging as if that’s completely self explanatory. It should be. He damn well hopes it is, because frankly Sky does not have the strength to take part in this conversation and he’s really hoping that Helena can carry the anti Jack side of it without him. “You?” He asks hopefully, as if turning the conversation back to Jack will immediately throw him out of it and he can go back to his people watching.

“Oh, I jumped out a window,” Jack says airily, apparently oblivious to the looks of total confusion both Sky and Helena give him. The resulting silence proceeds to allow the clock ticking to become audible again.

“Are you seriously telling me,” Helena asks after about ten minutes have past and Sky can just about see Jack, out of the corner of his eye, beginning to meticulously colour in something which looks suspiciously like a poster, “that I have woken up today and willingly come to this godforsaken room and sat in the company of absolute dimwits and the teacher in charge is not even going to deign to show up?”

“Sometimes they just don’t,” Jack shrugs as if this is a usual occurrence. “Especially if they see me on the list.”

“Can’t blame them for that,” Helena mutters.

“Well, it would be hard not to treat me like the god I am. Can’t be unfair to the other students.” He grins. “Nah, guess they get lazy. I dunno. Most of the time I just leave.”

“Well that’s a wasted day of mine then.” She scowls. “Don’t they know time is money? Although I do have plenty of both.”

“That was the most ungraceful segway into a brag I have ever heard,” Jack observes, “and this is coming from me.”

“What can I say? I’m pretty, it allows for more leeway.”

She actually gets a laugh out of Jack from that, and it kind of fascinates Sky. Partly because he’s always assumed that Jack was more aggressive. He gets into enough fights for that. But he seems more… amused than anything else by the back and forth. Like he’s less of a punching devil and more of the type of person to push buttons out of enjoyment and amusement. He supposes that’s one way to get out of boredom.

“Hey, crybaby,” he’s so caught up in psychoanalysing the other two that he doesn’t realise for a minute that Jack is addressing him, and before he can say anything the other boy is waving a hand in front of his face. (He flinches back, predictably. God, he’s always so fucking predictable.) “You got any weed?” Jack asks, his face inches from Sky’s, close enough that Sky can see a stray eyelash on his cheek (would it be ridiculous to point it out considering that Jack would undoubtedly take that as Sky confessing his undying love for him?) and the freckles littering his cheeks.

“Uh.” Truthfully, Sky’s pretty sure this is going to end in him having to share so he’s really not willing to answer, but he’s never been good at lying so instead Jack gets a slow nod by way of response.

“Well there we fucking go,” Jack takes a step back thankfully, so he’s no longer close enough that Sky can literally smell whatever cologne he puts on (ugh, straight men) and glances back at Helena, gesturing wildly to Sky. “Don’t have to be a fucking waste of your day, princess. Or are you too good to come smoke a joint with me and Page?”

“My name’s Sky,” Sky offers. He is ignored.

“As long as nobody sees us,” Helena sniffs, but she gets up all the same, sliding her things into her bag. “And for the record, I’m a Queen, not a princess. I understand that your male mind finds words difficult though,” she adds with a condescending smile.

“I’m the British one,” Jack argues. “I’d know about fucking Queens.”

“I’m literally half English, you absolute cretin. My surname is literally Spencer. Like Princess fucking Diana? Ring any bells?”

“Nah,” Jack says with absolute conviction, “her surname was Wales.”

“No she was the Princess of Wal- oh my god,” Helena rolls her eyes with such energy that Sky is amazed that her eye muscles don’t straight up propel her out of the door. “Sky, can you please back me up?”

“I’m from Chicago,” Sky says helplessly, and gets two very dirty looks as they leave the classroom.

“I’d suck your dick,” he’s lost count of how many hits he’s in and the rooftop is starting to take on a hazy quality, which Sky attributes to the fact that he’s actually confident enough to laugh out loud at Jack’s comment, leaning back and looking up at the sky, “no you wouldn’t.”

“Sure I would,” Jack insists. “I’d try anything fucking once. And I never sucked a dick. Maybe it’s my fucking talent.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Sky’s words are coming out sing song and he lays back on the roof now, shaking his head still, “you’re such a straight boy it’s not even funny. Straight, straight, straight,” he takes a long drag on the joint and holds it out between two fingers to Helena, who is giving both of them another disgusted glare.

“Two boys talking about their penises. Exactly the company I desired. Not.”

“We could talk about vagina instead,” Jack offers diplomatically, so Sky mimes gagging. “Yeah, okay crybaby. We get it. You patented the fuck a boy at church camp vibe, we understand.”

“I didn’t fuck a boy at church camp,” Sky says indignantly.

“No, he probably fucked you,” Helena hisses.

“I thought you were too good for this conversation,” Jack observes.

“Do you see another conversation happening?”

“You could just shut up.”

“And let your disgusting accent ring in my ears? Horrific.”

“My accent is sexy.”

“I like Kai’s more,” Sky gets a glare from both of them for that. Oops. Supposes that’s what he gets for interrupting the bickering. “Yours is fine too,” he says quickly.

“God, just take a side,” Helena mutters. “It’s fine to admit Rat sounds like a coal miner, you know?”

“Isn’t that a bit….” Sky searches for the word. “Classist?”

“No, it’s a fact. Anyway,’ she points to Jack accusingly, “he didn’t even know Princess Diana’s surname. So his national pride is absolutely a farce.”

“She died in like, nineteen ninety whatever? That’s old news,” Jack argues.

“She,” Helena says hotly, “remains an international style icon.”

“Can we get back to vagina and/or dick yet?” Jack enquires hopefully. Sky resumes the pretend gagging.

“You become more disgusting with every waking moment,” she mutters under her breath. But Jack will probably take that as a compliment either way. “And I need to go.”

“Don’t miss me too much,” Jack looks up to bat his eyelashes at the girl, resulting in her flipping him off.

“I think I would miss the dog shit I stepped in more than you,” Helena informs him, before glancing at Sky. “You, though. We’re going shopping tomorrow.”

He gives her a confused look.

“You have potential,” she decides. “Like style wise. As an aesthetic and thankfully quiet sidekick.” He can take that. “Like a Harry Styles vibe but unattractive.”

Okay, Sky’s starting to regret listening.

“Or Timothée Chalamet minus the bone structure and redeemable features.”

He really regrets listening now.

“Doesn’t Timothée Champagne have chlamydia?” Jack asks with a gleeful smile.

“Didn’t everyone say you have AIDS?” Helena snaps. “Goodbye, male specimens. It is starting to rain and this blouse is vintage.”

[ridiculousyoungicarus]

Self Para 001: If I Could Grant You Peace Of Mind

TWs: HIV, Self-Harm, Drugs (Heroin & Cocaine - not done but mentioned briefly), Eating Disorders (Balo’s intervention is mentioned), Abuse

Word Count:  2,716

Setting: Luxor’s Orleans, France Campus. Monday, September 21st, 2020. Early morning (about 1am - 4am-ish).

Everything going on with Balo was a mess, and no matter what anyone said, Zander still couldn’t fail to see how it wasn’t his fault. Wasn’t that supposed to be his job? Protecting her. It was the only thing he needed to be good at, and he failed at it. She’d be fine if Ivan was here; he’d always been better at taking care of her. It was a thought that grew more and more persistent as the days went by. He’d have never let her in a situation that resulted in something like this. If he’s been the biological son, Balo would be okay.  

And right now, she was far from being okay. Her behavior had become concerning since movie night, and he wasn’t sure if he should ask Ivan for help. He’d been entirely unhelpful the last time he’d reached out concerned about their sister. Maybe if Zander could just-

“You’re actually starting to turn a little blue, holy shit.” Ches’s voice interrupts him from his thoughts. When did she get back? He doesn’t fight as she wraps a blanket around his shoulders and settles in next to him, glancing over to her as she rests her head on his shoulder. “Did you really miss me this much? Oh, my sweet baby boy, whatever will I do with you?”

While the nickname was always affectionate, the lack of teasing in her voice sends his thoughts for another loop. Usually, she used it to pick on him. Did she think he was overreacting?

“Welcome home, I didn’t realize you were back yet.” Although he supposed it made sense, she hadn’t taken time off of school for the funeral. She probably wouldn’t have gotten it excused given the situation.

“Well, it’d be kinda hard to attend classes from Virginia. But enough about me. How are you doing? Other than trying to get hypothermia, of course.” He wants to groan that he would not get hypothermia, that it wasn’t that cold, and her dramatics weren’t helpful. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate just how normal it was.

He’d missed normalcy.

“Well, I’m stuck with Jack, my parents disowned Balo, and she’s really scaring me. Nothing’s changed over the span of a weekend. You know how I feel.” It wasn’t the same as the last several times she had poked her head in, though. He’d had a lot more time to think since he’d last saw her.

“Is it the HIV or her mental health?”

Zander quickly tries to sort through their conversations in their mind. Had he let Balo’s diagnosis slip? But he’s yanked from his thoughts as the redhead beside him lifts her head and steals the corner of his blanket to wrap around herself. “You’re cold?”

“I’m still daydreaming about the 17° weather in Virginia, I know 6° isn’t bad, but yeah, I’m cold.” It takes him a few seconds to realize she’s on about Celsius, and he just lifts his arm to let sneak right in under it. “You didn’t answer my question, Zan. Is it her HIV diagnosis or her mental health scaring you?”

“You should really lower your voice; someone is going to overhear you if you don’t start whispering. Balo doesn’t want the entire school to know...”

“The only people awake at 1 am in this school are the insomniacs who are holed up in their rooms and the coke addicts who are way too busy snorting it off of Axel’s dick to care about what you and I are doing outside. Nobody is eavesdropping, and if they were, the rumors would be bullshit like ‘Ches and Zander are entirely too close, I caught them cuddling - they must be fucking.’ We go to school with shallow people who only care about themselves, remember? Nobody cares what we’re doing.” Ches rolls her eyes, “But, seriously I’m gonna keep asking you to tell me what’s on your mind. I know that look, something’s wrong. Please talk to me.”

“Oh, come on, nobody would buy that shit.” Zander knew it wasn’t the point, that he was just grasping at the little outs she was accidentally leaving in her words. “Even Jack would know to laugh that one out of the room.”

“Alekzander, please.”

“Do you nag everyone who doesn’t want to talk, or am I just special? I’m fine. I can handle what’s going on with Balo. I don’t need you mothering me, Hailey.” Still, when the redhead pulls away from him, it takes everything in his power to keep himself from reaching out to pull her back in. Was she mad at him? She didn’t seem angry, although the sudden removal of her body heat wasn’t a good sign.

Before he can start thinking of the words to amend the situation, Ches is standing up. “You’re right, I’m sorry. If you need me, I’ve got to do some studying in the library. Try to get some sleep at some point, the bags under your eyes are really starting to reduce you down to a solid 8.”

She leaves him the blanket when she walks away, and as he tugs it around tighter himself, he’s not sure if it’s a good thing. It was going to continually remind him he needed to take care of himself, that he was sitting outside in the middle of the night alone because he managed to scare off the one person who always seemed to notice he wasn’t okay.

Ivan probably wouldn’t have run Ches off, and Balo wouldn’t be in nearly as bad shape as she was if he was here. For a brief second, Zander reaches for his phone to text the man, but he pauses, stopping himself. He had enough on his plate with Balo without Zander contributing to it. So instead, he settles himself in, allowing himself to get lost in his thoughts.

—

Chessie ☀️:  I’m still in the library. Don’t wake the guy at the desk, though; the poor thing just fell asleep. 😕

Zander’s hands are shaking as he reads the text through tears, already heading in the direction of the library. He tries to be quiet as he enters the room, passing the snoring man at the desk as he tries to find Ches. She always chose the back right corner when they were in Lake George, and sure enough, she was quietly pouring over her textbooks with a flashlight when he rounded the corner.

“No wine? Who are you, and what did you do with my Ches?” He cringes at the effect his tears had on his voice. It was bad enough that he was crying without his body making it evident to everyone around him he was trembling even if they weren’t looking.

“I’m testing the waters, thinking about cutting the wine out. A bit more productive, don’t you think?” For a moment, he thinks she might make a comment about the state he’s in, but she just pats the seat next to her as she shuts her textbooks. He’s silent as he sits down; the only sounds filling the room is the chronic snoring from the library’s front and his chair as it grazes across the floor. “But you’re not here for the wine.”

“I’m not.” He confirms, taking a deep breath as he finally removes the blanket she’d left him two hours prior and sets it on the table. “I came to talk if that’s okay.” No matter how many times he’d found himself at her door when he didn’t want to be alone, he still couldn’t suppress the concern that maybe this was going to be the time she turned him away. But she just nods, setting her flashlight onto the table.

“The floor is yours.”

“My parents disowned Balo, and I’ve never seen her like this. She’s always been so bright and cheerful and right now...  Chessie, she gave me her sewing kit because she doesn’t trust herself not to misuse her rotary blade. And these things aren’t sudden; how much has been building up that I’ve missed? She won’t really talk to me, and given everything going on with Jack again, I’m pretty sure she’s not talking to anyone. It’s not like she’ll tell our brother. She was upset with me when I talked to him about Jack because I could have worried him.” He explains, “and that’s only the start of it- okay, what’s with the face?”

There was something about Ches’s pensive expression in the lowlight that distracted him, the way she pursed her lips as she listened to him talk. “I was just thinking that I’ve never heard you call Ivan your brother before. Balo’s brother, asshole, my parents disowned him, Ches you’re not allowed to follow him on Instagram to thirst over him that’s weird. Please carry on, I’m listening.”

“Don’t get used to it, I’m not making it a habit.” Still, Zander’s tears slow as a small chuckle briefly escapes from his body. “I can’t stop thinking that if he was here, Balo would be fine. Whatever caused this wouldn’t have happened. I just wish she’d tell me how this happened...”

“She doesn’t know, Zan. I know Jack’s clean, we were fucking - he’d have mentioned it if he wasn’t. Barton would have told her, she hasn’t been anywhere near the Keller boy in a year, and we’d know if she was doing heroin. I thought maybe that night when we took her to the ER, there were hours we can’t account for, but... if your parents disowned her.”

“I wouldn’t write off my father yet.” Zander hadn’t even considered him as a suspect, but he wouldn’t put it past the man to cover his track for the sake of appearances. Maybe there’d been blood on blood contact during the struggle? Balo had a pretty nasty gash on her forehead, and he had avoided his father afterward. “Or medical malpractice, for that matter. It’s happened with healthcare workers before, right? Fuck, Ivan really would have been able to stop this.”

“Zander, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t give Balo HIV, and your brother couldn’t have done more than you did. I know it’s hard, but this isn’t because of anything you did. You couldn’t have stopped this, just like I couldn’t have stopped my maman’s murder, and Fane couldn’t have prevented his parents’ car accident.” Ches’s nose doesn’t crinkle as she speaks; the telltale signs of her being dishonest were nowhere to be seen. Which likely meant she thought she was telling the truth, and while he didn’t believe her, his guilt could wait.

It was the least important thing going on; he knew that.

“I was a dick to Elliot.” He knows the words are sudden. That may be at the moment telling her he’d been mean to her boyfriend would rapidly make the situation worse.

Her green eyes blink, her head tilts to the slide slightly, almost like a puppy’s as she processes his words. Had Elliot not told her anything? “Why would you be a dick to Elli? Fuck. Que vais-je faire de vous?”

“Yell at me? Look, I know I shouldn’t have been so hard on your boyfriend. But he breathed near me and-”

“He breathed near you?” The concern in her voice makes Zander feel even worse than he would have if she’d just yelled at him. “That’s not like you. When did this happen?”

“Before movie night, after we got here.”

“After you learned about Balo.” For a brief moment, the snoring stops, and the panic on Ches’s expression leaves him questioning if they’re allowed to be in the corner they were occupying as they wait. Soon enough, the snoring resumes, and she speaks again, “I’m not mad at you. I want you to get along with him, and I expect you to apologize, but you’re not scaring me off that easily. We left off at you feeling inferior to your brother, please continue.”

“I don’t feel like I’m inferior to Ivan.” He protests, although as he tries to think of examples of how she was entirely off base, he realizes she might have a point. “But I can’t stop running through what if’s. What if he’d be able to stop it? What if he’d know how to help Balo right now? I didn’t ask him for help with her intervention and look at how well that went. She resents me for it now. What if I fuck this up, and she gets hurt because of it?”

“That’s not going to happen because you have me, you have Lucy and Avery, and as much as you hate it - we have Jack and Cait. They’d never let anything happen to her; if she tries something, one of us will grab her. She went to you about her sewing kit. Do you have it?” He nods yes in response to her question, and the girl in front of him relaxes, “from experience, people don’t ask for help unless they want to be stopped. Her coming to you was a good sign.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I was right about your inferiority complex and that you were stressing Balo’s mental health.”

“I hate you so much sometimes, you know that.” And yet he can’t help the fond smile as he says the words, the way the tension in his shoulders eases when she smiles back at him.

“I know. I’m just the worst sometimes, aren’t I?” She winks at him, “so what’s next on the list? If it’s money, you know she’s got two sugar mommies already, and I’m pretty sure we could convince Jack to be a sugar daddy if we can’t pull enough funds together to take care of her.”

“Two?”

“Barton? Carnifex families are loaded, I have no doubt in my mind if there’re issues affording her medication abroad if I can’t cover it completely, she’d lend me the money temporarily for B.” Ches shrugs, “so that should also ease the healthcare concerns. Correct? There’s no way in hell we’re not going to be able to manage this. She’s been taking her meds, and as long as they’re working medications have gotten to the point she’ll probably outlive you by a couple decades still.”

And as much as Zander hated the thought of asking anyone for money, the thought that maybe people would be willing to help if it became an issue was reassuring. “And here I thought you said you weren’t taking mind reading classes.”

“You’re just predictable. The day you aren’t stressing about money, we’re going to see pigs fly, and lotus storms consume the earth.” Ches jokes, “did we happen to cover everything? Wait, we haven’t discussed Jack being in your classes yet. Shit, maybe we needed the wine...”

“We don’t need wine. There’s not that much to say, he’s annoying, we’re getting stuck together, and I’m just going to have to deal with it.” He shrugs, “probably the most normal thing going on in our lives, come to think of it.”

“You ever realize it’s a bit fucked up Jackaboy acting up is considered normal at this school. I’m not complaining but...”

“If you ever tell him I actually appreciate him being Balo’s pet demon right now, I’ll never talk to you again.” He warns her. Jack would never let him live it down, and he was well aware it was fucked up. But Ches just smiles, shaking her head.

“Your secret’s safe with me. So, what else do you want to discuss?”

He thinks about it for a minute. Was there anything else he felt like he needed to get off his chest? There were the things he couldn’t find the words to say and the things that weren’t worth the effort left, but he couldn’t think of anything he needed to talk to her about. “What were you working on before I interrupted?”

“Well, you see...” Ches starts to open her textbook again as she starts to ramble about what she was working on, and he listens as she gushes eagerly. He doesn’t even realize just how tired he was until his eyes become too heavy to keep open. The last thing he notices before he falls asleep is a blanket being tucked around him as she continues to explain her literature homework.

[paradisobound]

Sail Away With Me: Part 3

Summary: It was a fluke. Dan shouldn’t have ever gone with Sam to a party on a yacht. He shouldn’t have trusted her to go. But in a chance encounter, he ends up in bed with Phil Lester, a billionaire CEO of a luxury clothing company. When he thinks he’s screwed up enough, he realizes he’s in way too deep. Because Phil Lester has fallen in love with him. The catch: Dan gave Phil a fake name and all Phil has to remember Dan by is the tattoo on his hip and the necklace he left behind.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: A semi-explicit sex scene between Dan and another male

Pairing: Instagraminfluencer!dan and CEO!Phil

This is a chaptered work. Updates every Saturday around 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN | WATTPAD**

DAN POV 

“I got an email from a company called Luxor.” 

The breeze is blowing through Dan’s curls as he pushes his hand through them and shuffled them a bit on top of his head. They were sat on the balcony just outside of Sam’s room, overlooking the coast. The mist from the water kept kissing his skin, leaving his cheeks a bit dewey. 

Sam looks up at him, tucking a stray strand of her wavy red hair behind her ear. She’s wearing her glasses this morning and although Dan’s seen her with them often, he knows that if she were to be photographed like that right now, she would definitely be seen as ‘over-casual’. But truth was Sam was nearly blind. 

She wraps her lanky arms around her knees and draws them closer to her chest as her shorts ride up her thighs a bit. She sniffles a bit and wipes at her nose before finally opening her mouth to say something to Dan. 

“Not impressive.” 

“Oh?” 

Sam shrugs again and lets her feet down from the edge of the chair, putting them on the floor. “Luxor is just another stereotypical clothing brand.” 

“But the email seems promising.” 

Dan scrolled a bit further down the email where they said they would love to meet up with him at their London office to talk about negotiations for a potential contract deal between them. To say Dan was intrigued was an understatement. He was used to companies reaching out to him for his large Instagram presence but he often doesn’t get anything that pays him anywhere near what Luxor would probably pay him. 

He lets out a sigh and looks back out at the coast. In the distance, he can see boats of all kinds: yachts, sail boats, everything. Dan takes in a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it go as he relaxes his shoulders. 

He’s actually feeling pretty lucky that he wasn’t too hungover this morning. He definitely cannot say the same for Sam who currently looked like death ran over her twice but he can at least say he’s feeling better. 

Although, the tinge in his backside was definitely an indication of his night last night. He wouldn’t even be entirely sure that the night was real if it wasn’t for that light ache in his lower back. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel everything and it makes his skin tingle. 

“It’s up to you,” Sam says, drumming her fingers against the side of her chair. Her finger nails made a pleasing yet slightly obnoxious clicking every time they hit the metal. “But I don’t think Luxor is worth it.” 

Dan shrugs. “I’ll think about it.” 

Sam shrugs again and leans down, resting her chin against the railing of the balcony. 

“How are you feeling?” Dan asks her, knowing full well that she isn’t feeling the best. She follows his question by another shrug—she must be in that mood today—and then sits up. She reaches into her hoodie pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out and placing it between her lips as she lights it. 

“Does that answer your question?” She asks with a chuckle. “I’m hungover as fuck and I have a headache thats bigger than the whole of the UK.” 

Dan lets out a soft chuckles and reaches over, rubbing her arm gently. She twitches for a second and then laughs. “We’re a mess.” 

“And that’s why we’re best friends.” 

“Because we’re both hot messes?” Sam asks with a lighthearted chuckle. 

Dan nods and lets out a loud snort as he reaches for the table in front of him and picks up his cold coffee and takes a sip. 

Sam finishes her cigarette and puts it out in the ash tray that she has hidden under her chair. She then lets out a loud groan and stretches up before she kicks her long legs out in front of her and stands up. “Let’s go.” 

“Where?” Dan asks. 

He knows its the afternoon, but he’s didn’t know they had any plans. 

“Lets go swimming.” 

She extends her hand out and Dan takes in as she lifts him up and forces him back inside the doors to her bedroom and they get dressed to go out. She calls for a cab via the PA system she has in her room and then they leave to go towards the beach. 

***

“We couldn’t get ahold of Phil Lester.” 

They’re sat on the beach, the warm summer breeze blowing in their hair. People are walking all around them and Dan is digging his toes into the hot sand. 

“Oh?” 

Sam nods with a sympathetic look. She’s got her hair tossed up in messy double braids now and her freckles are darkening in the sun. Dan reckons that Sam is actually quite pretty. And if he was attracted to females, he’s sure he would jumped on the opportunity to be with her. But it’s just not something that would have worked. 

They tried...once. When they were newly eighteen and Dan was still figuring out if he liked girls. They met at a club while Dan was on a trip to Ibiza with his university friends for a vacation. Dan had no idea who Sam was when they first met but they shared a few drinks and found themselves to be natural friends. 

Dan tries to forget about how they tried to have sex once and he totally failed at it, panicking just as Sam undressed. And it wasn’t even like a genuine panic, it was more that he knew this wasn’t what he wanted and the thought of it was unsettling to him. Sam didn’t mind, and despite the first few hours being a bit weird, they can laugh about it now. 

“I asked Gillian to get ahold of Jeanna Trombley who is Phil Lester’s personal assistant. She takes all of his calls and everything. And she tried but Jeanna said that Phil Lester was far too busy right now to answer a call about a missing possession so...sorry, babes.” 

Dan feels a bit of sadness willing in his chest. He pulls his knees up to his chest and lays his cheek on his knees, turning his head towards Sam. She reaches out and puts a hand on his back and rubs it and that simple act is enough to make him sniffle and will himself not to cry right now. 

“I’m sure you’ll get it back one day.” 

“How?” Dan asks. “He doesn’t even know my real name and I doubt he even remembers me.” 

“My dad is good friends with Phil Lester, in case you didn’t know.” Sam juts in. “He does a lot of business deals and in return, he often offers Phil a place to stay in our hotels in a private executive suite just for him. I’m sure I can ask him to see if he can even talk to Phil.” 

Dan lets out a scoff. He know Sam’s dad wouldn’t ever do anything like that. 

“He probably is keeping it as a trophy.” 

“A trophy?” Sam asks, clarifying. 

Dan nods. “Yeah, like, oh I fucked this guys brains out and his necklace fell off so I’m going to keep this to remind of that night. You know, that kind of a trophy.” 

“I don’t think Phil would be that selfish.” Sam says, furrowing her brows. “I’ve met him before...I mean, I don’t think...” She stutters on her words. “Yes, it’s true that there are times where Phil can be a bit cold hearted but I don’t think he’d keep someone else’s possession for a trophy.” 

Dan shrugged. His skin was feeling a bit hot and he was beginning to feel a bit sweaty and gross. Sam let out a sigh. “I don’t know what else you want to do, Dan.” She says, her words cutting through to him. “There isn’t much to do at this point. Honestly, I would just let the necklace go. For all we know, maybe you didn’t lose it in his bed. Maybe you lost it on the dock or somewhere else in the yacht. You’re just thinking of the worst case scenarios right now.” 

Dan swallows and reluctantly nods because Sam was right. But he didn’t want to admit it. The necklace was still something that meant a lot to him and it wasn’t easy for him to come to the realization that he might have to part with it. 

“Come on, lets go swimming.” She says, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. “There is no point getting all pissy right now. It’s our last here. Let’s make the most of it.” 

Dan lets a smirk take over his lips and he dips his head down as he allows for her to drag him into the warm Mediterranean water. 

***

They ended up in a club somewhere, the music blasting and the lights strobing all around them. Dan’s got a few drinks down and Sam has a few more downed and they’re well past sober. Sam is dancing with some random guy in the crowd and Dan is dancing a bit off to the side where their table of empty drinks and cups are. He’s downed his third mixed drink and he’s reaching for a test tube shot from someone walking around the dance floor. He reckons he should be a bit more responsible but he’s also way past the point of giving any fucks whatsoever. 

The guy with Sam gets a bit handsier with her and Dan looks protectively to make sure she’s okay. And she definitely is by the way she’s kissing up and down the Adonis’s neck. Dan watches her for a few moments before she takes the mans hand and winds her way through to their table. 

“I’m leaving with Nick so you know the drill.” 

And Dan does. If Sam doesn’t text him within three hours of leaving, he needs to call her and etc...

He gives her a smile and watches her leave out the door with this fit guy as he left stood alone with an empty test tube shot and another one coming his way. He’s tempted to reach for it but he’s stopped when someone comes up next to him. 

“You’re looking a bit lonely over here.” 

Dan turns and makes eye-contact with a beautiful tanned male stood in front of him. His knees go a bit weak and he feels already the tell-tale signs of arousal spinning in his stomach at looking at the attractive male. His voice was sugary sweet in the best way possible and his bright green eyes shone directly into Dan’s brown. 

“Maybe.” Dan answers, smirking a bit. 

“You’re too cute to be lonely,” The male says. “I’m surprised no one else has snagged you up yet.” 

Dan shrugged. “Most people can’t handle me.” 

“Handle you?” 

Dan nods, playing along. “I’m a bit more than people can normally handle.” 

“Is that so?” The man asks, moving a forward. “Show me.” 

Dan reaches out and takes the mans hand in his palm and drags him into the middle of the crowded dance floor. He knows the man probably thought Dan meant he was going to drop to his knees and blow him in the middle of the floor but this was nicer. 

He wrapped his arms loosely around the mans neck and they swayed together as the mans hands placed themselves firmly on Dan’s hips. 

“What’s your name?” Dan asks. 

“Ivan. Yours?” 

“Dan.” 

Ivan smiles at him and leans down, pressing his lips against Dan’s neck and sucking a bit onto the tender skin. Dan’s breath hitched and he let out a low moan as he clung in closer to Ivan and let him suck continuous kisses onto his neck. 

They left, not long after. Dan shot Sam a text saying he was going home with a guy too and the fact that she replied with a thumbs up emoji made him chuckle a little bit. They took a taxi to the guys home, which was a small little villa on the coast. 

Once inside, it didn’t take long for the heat between them to intermix with the heat of the night. Dan shimmied off his clothing somewhere in Ivan’s living room and Ivan’s pants found their way with his as well. 

Dan went down on him, sucking him off the best he could but by the second round “Yes! Suck that cock!” came from Ivan’s mouth, he was getting to feel a bit less excited about what was happening. 

He still very much wanted to have sex, that was definitely still true. But somewhere in the back of his head as he swung his legs over Ivan’s hips and seated himself on top, he could still hear Phil’s voice and feel his hands on his skin. Ivan’s hands felt bigger, and colder. Phil’s were soft and gentle, warm to the touch like they were sear Dan’s skin if they were left too long. 

It took Dan a lot longer to get off with Ivan. Ivan finished pretty fast and then proceeded to let Dan ride him until he finished. But by the time Dan was close,  his thighs were aching and he was beginning to feel like this was more a chore than actually getting himself off. 

He came with a whimper and then pushed off from Ivan, landing beside him on the bed. Ivan kissed him, softly one last time, before Dan pushed off and told him he needed to get going. My friend is probably worried. He lied. 

He grabbed his clothing and dressed as fast as he could. He used Sam’s contact to call for a taxi and he waited outside for it and jumped in as soon as they came. When he got to Sam’s home, she was inside too, sitting on her bed wiping off her melted make up. 

“Was your night a bust too?” She joked, the remnants of black mascara on her cheeks. 

“Kind of.” 

Sam chuckled. “Nick came after a few seconds and then blacked out on me. I was back here within an hour.” 

“Ivan was okay but it took me a while to finish.” 

She sucked in a breath. “Oh no.” 

Dan looked at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh no, what?’ 

She shook her head. “Was it because you were thinking about a certain someone instead?” 

“Don’t be daft.” Dan says with a laugh. 

“Your red spot on your cheek just got darker. You’re lying.” 

Dan felt his cheeks light up more “I wasn’t thinking about Phil!” 

She shrugged back and the conversation ended. 

He fell asleep next to Sam in her bed that night and in the morning, a private cab was waiting for them to take them to the airport where they would catch Sam’s family’s private jet back to London. 

It was bittersweet for Dan as he watched the plane lift off out the window. He really felt as if a part of him was being left behind in Amalfi and he knew that part of him was currently in Phil Lester’s hands. 

***

Dan went back to his flat in London with a heavy feeling in his chest. He threw his suitcase down on the floor of his living room and then collapsed on his couch. Sam said she would be over a bit later for take out but he was really enjoying the time alone right now. 

He pulls out his laptop from his bag, the first time he’s done it the week he’d been gone. He finds his browser is open to his emails and he refreshes the page and looks at the Luxor email, still sitting proudly at the top of the list. 

He reads it over again and sees that they want him to be a brand model for their Instagram page. They want him to model their clothing on their Instagram and his own and they would compensate him for it. He could easily do that. 

Shooting back an email, he agrees to whatever they want him to do and he asks if he can meet up at their headquarters in London sometime this next week. He closes his laptop down and waits for their reply just as soon as a text appears on his phone. 

Sam: Phil’s assistant just got back. Says Phil doesn’t have your necklace. He only has one that belongs to a guy named Ethan...

Sam: I tried to tell her it was probably yours but Phil is adamant on not giving up the necklace to anyone besides Ethan...

Dan felt tears rush to his eyes and he wiped them away stubbornly with the regret of what he did that night with Phil. 

Because fuck Phil Lester and fuck everything else too. 

[elodjole]

Flower bud There was a bright flash of light, a familiar one. Akari rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the light. The room he sat in was twenty five meters tall with marble columns lining the ends of it from one end to the other. The walls had tapestries of great battles, coronations and other important events from the past, hanged form solid gold bars on the celling. One of the tapestries showed a large number of Kalashtar facing a god like creature that towered over them. Akari couldn’t get his eyes of it. He had so much left to learn about his people’s culture and history, like why were they facing those godly creatures, was that what led to their downfall?

The room was full of people, most of them with pale white hair, red eyes and dark skin characteristic for the Kaleshy. Directly in front of him there was a group of two dozen men and women, clearly not Kaleshy, dressed in fine clothing and adorned with numerus precious gems. He sat on an elevated platform about five meters of the ground, looking down at them. As he turned his attention toward them, each of them bowed their heads in consecutive motions, like a sudden wave of power suddenly pushed them one by one into the ground. As each head fell, Akari could see a battlefield behind the bowing person. Countless men and women, both of Kalashtar and other peoples, lay lifeless on the ground. As the last head fell, he could see the once golden glistering throne room now full of blood and death.

-“I don’t want this!” Akari yelled, but no one responded. “Look at them all, look at how they suffered. This is not how it should be. I don’t want to be like you!” His voice echoed through the halls. He had jumped up the throne, staring into his reflection in it.

The man in the reflection had a stern look on his face. He had a square chin and short trimmed beard. Adorned atop his head was the traditional pharos garb, and his piercing red eyes stared right back at Akari with disappointment and regret.

“Then what is it, what do you want Akari?!” The reflection spoke with a booming deep voice, a voice that could command a thousand armies. It echoed throughout the room getting louder and louder. The ground started shaking, the entire hall started falling apart and all that Akari could hear was his name echoing over and over again.

Darkness washed over Akari again, as he heard the sound of a warm motherly voice, yelling his name.

-“Akari! You get up this instant young man, Mosi will closes the bakery in twenty minutes. Hurry or you won’t make it in time!”

Akari opened his eyes, as the sunlight, peeking ever so slightly through the drapes of his bedroom window, washed over his face. He sat up and rubbed his forehead. He was back in his bed, and felt the ruff and scratchy fabric of his blanket itching his legs. It was nothing like the throne room. Barely two meters tall and made out of sand stone. The room was very small but somehow still managed to feel empty. A desk in one corner a wardrobe in the other, a bed across from the two, and a small window with thin cotton drapes on the western wall.

-“I’m coming mom!” He yelled back. ‘No echo this time’, he sighed. He got up and leaned on his window sill. The city streets were always busy even in this sector. It was almost midday and it was starting to get hot. His window looked on to the main street of the sector, where countless merchants and street performers would spend their days trying to outdo each other in tricks, prices, and anything else really, that would earn them a little bit of gold. Most of the people of the sector were Kaleshy, apart from the guards that constantly roamed the sector, and the very poorest citizens of the new Egi Empire. This is where most of the Kalashtar people came to live after…

-“Akari if I have to call you one more time, I’ll come up there with a bucket of water.” Akari heard his mother yell from downstairs.

-“I’ll be right down!” He put on brown linen pants and a white and red sleeveless shirt, he didn’t like sleeves obstructing his tattoos. He ran down stairs and splashed his face with some water from the bucket his mother threatened him with moments ago. As he raised his head he caught his own reflection in the water and it was him this time. His curly white hair resting just above his kind red eyes. His narrow chin and hairless face making him look like a child compared to the reflection from the dream.  

He entered the kitchen. A woman, half a head shorter than him, with long white hair pulled into a tight braid that brushed past the small of her back was chopping carrots. She turned around revealing kind red eyes, not unlike Akari’s. She looked tired, the large bags under her eyes and pores on her face made it seem like she hadn’t slept in a while. She wore a modest white dress that looked a little stained from cooking.

-“I’m here mom, what’s the rush?” Akari said with a calm face.

-“Don’t you play cool with me! Get on Mona, and get to Mosi’s, if you want to eat today.” She said sternly putting three coper pieces on the kitchen table.

-“He’s five minutes away mom. I don’t need Mona, and I’m not going to be late!” He picked up the coins of the table, kissed his mother on the forehead and stepped out on to the street.

It was a very hot day. Luxor was in the desert, so the populace was generally accustomed to the hot weather. Akari stepped into the backyard where Mona was tied to the fence, chewing on some straw. The mare was almost a golden shade of brown and had a long black mane and tale. Akari pet her on the snout as he passed her by. Whenever he saw her he was reminded of the long rides his father used to take him on when he was little. The memories filled him with strange feelings that he didn’t know how to process. His father was taken away when Akari was still young. He couldn’t do anything to save him. He didn’t even know if his father was alive. Mona licked Akari’s face stopping this line of thinking. He left Mona there and continued onward to the bakery.

The street was busy, it always was. Groups of people walked past Akari as he strolled down the wide walkway separating two rows of modest looking sand stone houses. The sector was clean enough. The people that lived here were poor but not uncivilized. As he walked some people waived at him, some said hi, others just passed him without addressing him, but he could notice everyone he passed staring at him. Suddenly he felt trapped. The light of the sun started to fade. The walls of the throne room started emerging around him. Everyone was looking to him. His people were looking to him. He stopped. He found himself struggling to catch a breath. He felt this enormous weight on his shoulders that wouldn’t allow him to move. He started gasping, looking around for a place to hide. He rushed into a small alley between two houses. The weight forced him down, as he sat clutching his knees with his back against the wall. ‘I can’t do this! I’m not strong enough! I’m not ready!’ The thoughts circled around in his mind, like predators stalking a prey.

Right as he was about to pass out, Akari felt hand grab his shoulder. He looked up to see a short haired Kaleshy boy around his age, with wide childish eyes and a big pointy nose standing above him with a concerned look on his face.

-“It’s ok Akari. Just try to breath.” The boy said with a nasally but calming voice. Akari came down and breathed in deep. It was his friend Emile.

-”What happened are you ok?” Emile asked with a bit of a shiver in his voice. Akari was usually the calm one out the two.

-”Everyone knows Emile. Everyone knows who I am and they’re all expecting me to…, I don’t even know what they’re expecting me to do. If dad couldn’t make everyone safe how can I. I’m not as good as him.”

-“As good at what?” Emile said starting to piece together what Akari was freaking out about.

-“I don’t know! Leading, being in charge, whatever I’m supposed to be.” Akari said in panicked voice.

-“But you’re not supposed to be anything. We’ve lived like this our entire lives, heck our grandparents did to. Nobody is expecting you to be anything you don’t want to be, and even if they are, fuck them, they can’t make you do anything. As for not being good enough, I don’t know what you got in your head that you have to do, but I think you’re pretty great. At least you’re better than me at, pretty much everything.”

Akari stopped shaking, and his breathing slowed. He had known Emile for fifteen years and never once heard him talk like this.

-“Well not everything.” Akari gestured at his tattoos. Emile smiled and helped him get up.

-“You’ve never snapped at me like that.” Akari said playfully.

-“Well you’re always defending me from bullies, the least I can do is protect you from yourself.” They both laughed.

-“I guess I was overreacting. It’s just these dreams. These memories that I see snippets of when I sleep. They’re all from this great emperor guy, who led hundreds of wars and had even his enemies bow to him. It kind of freaks me out you know.”

-“Tsk! You’re lucky everyone in my family was either a baker or a tailor. All I get are memories of ovens and needles. Sometimes though, if I’m really lucky a tailor ancestor will be making a suit for a lord and I get to see the great palaces of the past. I wish I could have seen those great halls.” Akari noticed a glimmer in Emile’s eye that reminded him of the first time he had a vision of the old palaces. Back before he knew what it meant. He looked up to see the sun almost at its peak.

-“Oh shit! Emile, I got to hurry. Do you think your dad will still be at the bakery?” Akari asked suddenly realizing he was late.

-“Yeah don’t worry, he knew you’d be late. You better hurry though I don’t know how long he’ll wait.”

-“Do you wanna come with? He’ll get less mad at me if he knows I was talking to you.”

-“Maybe so, but then he’ll direct his rage at me. You’re on your own buddy. Besides I have to bring these materials to my mom at the stand. Come over later if you want to hang out.” Emile picked up a box of fabric. He was frail so he struggled with it a bit. Akari tried to help, but Emile brushed him of.

-“I’ll see you later then!” Akari said waving goodbye. ‘Gods, Mosi is going to kill me.’ He thought as he rushed down the street.

Mosi was starting to pack the shop in for the day when Akari got to him.

-“Don’t close up Mosi!” He yelled from the corner of the street. The fat Kaleshy looked in his direction and kept packing. He had a long messy beard and his clothes were stained from the flower. Although he was twice Emile’s size, you could clearly see the resemblance between father and son.

-“You’re late Akari! There’s no more bread for you.” He had the face of a disappointed parent. “I can’t keep my shop open overtime every day for you. You’ve got to start learning that there are consequences to your actions.”

-“But I’m only five minutes late, you still haven’t packed in completely. Common I can see you didn’t sell all the bread.” Akari tried to negotiate with the large baker. “If I don’t have the bread when I get back, mom’s not going to feed me for a month.”

-“Well that’s the hole you dug for yourself Akari. Seriously people expect things from you Akari, you can’t keep messing around for the rest of your life.” Mosi voice turned stern, but as he turned to face the boy he could see Akari’s expression darken. “Look,” he said putting a hand on Akari’s shoulder, “I know it’s a lot of pressure, but everyone just wants you to be the best you, you can be.” He gave a big smile.

-“And who’s going to tell me who that is?” Akari’s face was still gloomy.

-“Oh dear.” Mosi sat down on a stool right next to the bakery entrence. “Look Akari, it takes people years to learn who they are and who they want to be. I don’t know if your dad ever really knew.” Akari suddenly raised his head. “When I was leaving home, to try and see if I baking is what I wanted to do, no one in my family showed up. I sat next to the city gates alone, waiting for the caravan to the next town. The only person that came to see me off was your dad. I’ll never forget what he said to me that day: ‘Before a fruit ripens, before it even blooms, a beautiful flower has to grow in its place.’ That was what swayed me to go and see the world, and you know what I learned?” Mosi looked down at the youth now sitting on the ground in front of him, with a tier in his eye. “I learned how to make this bread.” He pulled out a huge loaf of dark crusted bread with sunflower seeds on it. He handed the loaf to Akari and took two copper pieces from him. “Now help me get this table inside.” He stood up and helped Akari on to his feet. They got the table into the shop and Mosi locked up for the day.

-“Mosi. Thank you.” Akari said, as they were walking back to the center square and main street of the sector. “I don’t remember much of what my father tried to teach me. I was a stubborn and I didn’t listen much. Now all I have of him are these little stories that people tell me.” He sank into himself a little bit.

-“Your dad was a great man kid. But he wasn’t what we needed. He wasn’t the type of leader to make a big change, you know? He never even took his own advice, he stayed here trying to make everyone feel like they belong. The fact of the matter is, we don’t belong. We’ve been relegated to a part of the city they deemed unfit for their own. We’re outsiders in our own home. That has to change.” Mosi’s gaze wondered of. He looked concerned, less confident than usual. He turned his head back to Akari with a big smile, “But that’s not for you to worry about right now. Right now we need to…”

He stopped in the middle of his sentence. His eye firmly fixed on something behind Akari. His smile turned into an expression of terror. As Akari turned around, he saw two guards standing in front of the tailor stand, where Emile and his mother were seemingly being questioned. Mosi started running towards them not paying attention to Akari anymore. Akari ran after him, he started having flashes of the time they came for his father. ‘What is their problem? Why can’t they just leave us alone?’ He wondered as both he and Mosi ran up to the stand.

-“What’s the meaning of this!?” Mosi yelled. Dozens of people around them were staring at the scene unfold. “What do you vultures want now?”

-“This does not concern you citizen.” One of guards turned around. It was Garai, he used to bully Emile when they were kids. He was one of the rare kids in the sector that wasn’t Kaleshy. He and Akari used to fight every day. Garai hated the Kalashtar, Akari always thought that it was because he needed to see someone as beneath him. “Go back to your home.”

-“Doesn’t concern me?! You know those are my wife and son! What’s the problem this time? Is the fabric they’re selling not soft enough for your pale ass?” A hushed giggle spread through the crowd.

-“As a matter of fact, your wife’s permit for this stand is out of date.” The other guard turned. He was much older than Garai, he looked measured, with wide cheek bones and a lordly demeanor. “We need to take her in and fine her accordingly.” His voice was snooty and he spoke with an upper class accent.

-“That’s the same reason you gave two weeks ago.” Mosi growled. His teeth were clenched and his face was red.

-“There are new regulations.” The snooty guard said, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

-“I don’t care about your regulations.”

-“Oh, but you should, if you want to keep living in this city, that is. Honestly you Kalashtar are so ungrateful. The emperor graciously lets you stay in this city and you can’t even follow proper stand regulations. There really is no help for you rotten redeyes.” The smirk on his face widened looking around at the crowd who were too scared to even approach. He seemed very pleased with himself turning around to face Mosi. Right as he did he was caught by a fist the size of his face. As Mosi’s giant paw connected with his nose breaking it and knocking him on to the ground.

The entire square went silent. Akari was frozen in shock, he didn’t know what to do. The snooty guard sat up clutching his nose, blood running through his fingers. His eyes widened.

-“What are you just standing there for do something!” He yelled at Garai, who stood bewildered at what had occurred. Garai turned to Mosi. The giant baker was just standing there with an expression of anger and acceptance. He seemed ready to weather whatever came next.

Garai took his sword out, and hit Mosi with the hilt knocking him to his knees. Garai then started kicking the old man in the stomach, forcing him onto the ground, and yelling frantically. No matter how hard he kicked Mosi’s expression didn’t change, which made the young guard very mad. Akari could see the faces of the people in the crowd change. Emile’s face hit him particularly hard. He looked just like Akari felt that day, when they took his father away. Finally fed up with just watching he stepped forward.

-“Stop!” Mosi cried out. Garai hesitated and turned his head to see Akari’s fist stopped just short of his face.

-“How do you expect me to just stand by and watch this again?” Akari cried out on the verge of tears. “Didn’t you say we needed a change?”

-“Akari…” Mosi’s voice shook a bit, “You’re just a flower bud right now little one. Don’t throw away your chance to bloom!” The fat baker said shooting a big smile at Akari, who couldn’t hold back the tears.

At that moment everything stopped. Time stood still, as Akari heard the sound of metal piercing flesh. A stream of crimson flowed from Mosi’s body. The baker’s face turned pale. His head fell hitting the flour, with a loud thud.

-“Father!” Emile screamed as his mother tried to hold him back.

-“What was that about a flower bud. Honestly, it’s true what they say. People do tend to ramble in the face of death.” The snooty guard acknowledged, pulling his sword out of Mosi’s back. “It was good you stopped when you did young man. Otherwise you might have ended up like that old fool.” He kept talking, but Akari couldn’t hear him anymore. He stood for moment facing the ground, then raised his head with a snap. Both guards jumped back. Akari’s eyes were glowing with a golden color. He felt a rage he had never felt before. Garai took one step in Akari’s direction, when all of a sudden two giant spectral arms appeared floating over Akari’s head. They fizzled with golden light, covered in sapphire rings and broken chains.

-“What in the stars is that!?” The snooty guard let out a terrified shriek. “Rookie go get him!” He screamed at Garai, who just stood there bemused by the picture forming in front of him. He took another step forward. In the same instant the right arm swung in wide ark blasting Garai into a fruit stand two meters away. Akari didn’t even look at him, his glowing gaze was set on the man who murdered his friend. The snooty guard turned to run, but the left hand extended, garbing him in one swift motion.

-“Let go of me you dirty redeye!” A terror filled squeal flew out of the coward’s mouth. The right hand grabbed him by the throat. The guard started to struggle, suspended half a meter of the ground. He started to thrash about and wheeze. Then the left hand also caught his neck squeezing even tighter. His face started turning blue.

‘Good! Suffer!’ Akari thought. The sky started darkening around him again, only he wasn’t in the throne room this time. Dead bodies started to appear around him. He was standing on one of the battle fields he saw. His vision started flashing between the real world and the hallucinations. He squeezed harder and harder and with every flash, he could see more vividly, right in front of him, a new body.

-“I don’t want this!” He shouted still squeezing.

-“What do you want!?” He heard the same voice from the reflection ask.

-“Akari! Let go!” A women’s voice cried out from the crowd. The hallucinations and the arms disappeared as suddenly as they appeared. The guard now blue in the face fell down. Unconscious, but still breathing. Akari looked at him in horror realizing what he had almost done. He felt a smack on the back of his head.

-“Are you crazy?! I send you out to get bread and this happens!” His mother’s stern voice rang through the entire square. “Do you have any idea..?” She stopped abruptly seeing Akari’s face. Tears rushed down from his eyes to meet the snot dripping from his nose.

-“I’m sovvy mum! I couldn’t pvotect Mosi! I couldn’t do anything! I was useless again!” Akari shouted through the tears. His mother scowl turned into a saddened frown.

-“It’s going to be ok sweetie!” She embraced him tightly. “Mama’s here.” She looked around. “Two knocked out guards, plenty of witnesses. Come on! We need to get you out of here!” She whisked him away onto the main corridor heading to their house. The last picture Akari saw, was Emile and his mother standing over Mosi’s lifeless body, looking lost.

Akari and his mother ran into the house.

-“Go pack your things, I’ll get Mona ready and pack you some food.” His mother was frantically running around the house, grabbing the saddle and darting of to the back yard.

-“Where are we going mom? Why am I packing?”

-“Are you kidding? A Kaleshy laying hands on a guard, let alone almost chocking the life out of him! They’ll come for you. You need to get out of the city as soon as possible.”

-“You’re coming with me mom, right?” Akari asked. The middle aged woman stepped into the house again. She was sweating, and there was noticeable worry on her face. Akari hadn’t seen her like this, maybe ever. “Mom, you don’t expect me to leave you here! If they come for me and only find you..., well they’ll do something horrible.”

-“I can handle them Akari, now go and pack your things.” Her stern voice had a little more softness to it, and yet she sounded urgent. The look on her face was begging him to go.

-“Mom I can’t. I can’t leave you here alone.”

-“Listen to me! You need to go alone, you need to find more of us, but more importantly you need to become a leader Akari. You’re never going to be able to do that with me there, we both know that. I’ll be ok, I’ll keep an eye on everyone while you’re gone. But you need to promise me one thing. Promise me, you’ll come back.”

Tears started rolling down Akari’s face again. He had never cried this much in one day up until then.

-“I promise, mom! I’ll come back and I’ll change everything just you wait!” His voice shivered and broke, but the resolution of his words was not lost. He raised his head to see his mother smiling tearfully at him.

-“Go pack.” She whispered tenderly, pushing him away toward his room.

Akari packed his books, his clothes and a little piece of parchment that had Emile and he painted on it. It was a birthday gift, Emile made specially for him. He stopped for a second thinking of Emile and his mother. ‘Is it really ok to leave.’

-“Hurry they’ll be here any minute!” Akari ran down the stairs with his backpack on his shoulders. “Here.” His mother handed him a satchel. “It’s a bit of food money and other essentials like bandages.” She gave him a big hug. “Don’t get into fights young man, or I’ll come find you!”

-“You realize that’s just going to make me want to get into more fights right.” Akari smiled kissing his mother on the temple. “I never thought I’d be leaving so suddenly.”

-“Leaving is never easy, that’s why it’s important you come back.” She straightened his shirt, and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Now get on Mona and don’t stop until you’re out of the desert.” She pushed him out into the back yard, where the saddled steed was waiting. Akari put his hand on her snout, then jumped up onto her back.

He took one last look at his mother, the house he grew up in and his street, and took of motioning Mona into a gallop. As he rode through the town, people turned their heads.

-“Where is he going?”

-“Is he leaving us?”

-“What are we going to do now?”

Murmurs in the crowd quickly passed him by. He could feel it again. The enormous weight pushing him down, almost slowing Mona’s run. Everything started catching up with him. He hadn’t had time to process anything that was happening. He felt alone and scared, but most of all tiered and confused. Mona burst through the outer fence of the city that separated the Kaleshtar sector from the desert. The sand stone around him turned into dunes. Nothing but desert for miles. Mona kept running, but Akari’s head started to fall. Everything had gotten to him, and with no proper coverage from the blazing red afternoon sun, he soon passed out.

Akari opened his eyes. He was lying in bed with two Kaleshy women, one on each side. He got nervous and got up out of the bed. He was in a massive bedroom. The bed the girls were sleeping on was elevated a few steps of the ground. It was night time, and the light of the moon shun through the velvet curtains draping the room in dim purple light. This room had paintings on the walls as well. A brave emperor standing atop a concurred general with rays of light emerging from his crown, bringing light to the entire empire that was painted below him. The curtains, through which the room was illuminated, led to a balcony that had a perfect overview of the entire city. Akari stepped out, leaning on the golden railing of the balcony. He’d never seen the stars shine as bright as they did here. ‘But where am I?’ He thought looking over the city. Shock overcame him as he realized: ‘Those sand stone streets, the gigantic outer walls, even the pattern the buildings are arranged in! There is no way! Is this Luxor?’

-“Of course it is. Where else would we be?” A familiar deep commanding voice sounded of from inside. Akari turned around seeing a rather large mirror inside. He walked back in, stepping right in front of it.

-“It’s you again.” The man in the mirror was massive. Around two meters tall, with bulging muscles and tattoos that spread from his torso all the way to his fingers. He was naked and without his head gear. Finally Akari could see his entire face unimpeded. His square rugged chin was covered by a nicely trimmed white beard that contrasted nicely with the dark color of his skin. His nose was big but in a way that made him look more regal and godly. He had a scar over his right eye, that’s something Akari had never noticed before. His white hair was curly and extended down to his shoulders, which was the one thing they had in common. Despite it all you could see the resemblance if they stood side by side, but then again that could never happen.

-“Yes it’s me. Did you expect someone else? How many ancestors do you have visiting you?” The entire room echoed when he spoke. The women in the bed didn’t seem to notice, they just kept sleeping without even moving.

-“It’s just you. I just hadn’t realized I was asleep.”

-“Just me?!” Loud laughter almost shook the room. “You’re really ungrateful Akari, you know that? The greatest emperor of our line is here to guide you in these tough times and you don’t even seem to care.”

-“I don’t need anyone to guide me. I’ll be fine on my own.” He turned away from the mirror.

-“Is that so. Then why don’t you just take back our empire? If it’s that simple, if you don’t need anyone, just go and do it.”

-“I can’t!”

-“Oh! Why is that?”

-“What am I supposed to do just gather up the Kalashtar and start a war.” Akari angrily turned to face the reflection again. “How would I even do that?! Should I even do it!? I don’t know! I’m not the great Ozymandias, conqueror of the world! I can’t just march thousands of people to their death for no reason!”

-“I’m hearing a lot of I can’t, and I don’t know. I taught you said you didn’t need anyone.”

-“Well I certainly don’t need a war monger who forced people to fight and die for no reason. All you ever do is show me your great conquests and battles. What can you teach me?!”

-“War monger!?” It seemed as if the whole world was shaking as Ozymandias roared. “You insolent, ungrateful, weak…” He stopped himself and breathed in a deep breath. The reflection rubbed its nose. “I’m trying to impart to you the greatness of our people. I’m trying to show you what the Kalashtar can accomplish when they’re fighting for someone or something they believe in. You can’t keep moping around, hiding in corners your entire life. At some point you’re going to have to take charge of your people. That’s what it means to be a ruler.” Akari stood in front of the mirror without a word. He had never spoken to Ozymandias this much before. “The people that followed me weren’t forced to do so. They chose to follow me, because I showed them a picture of a better future. Of an empire greater than even the gods themselves. They followed me because they believed. You need to make the people believe in you.”

-“And lead them to their death?” Akari sounded sad and defeated. He felt as though he was being forced to accept that the world was worse than he imagined it.

-“Those who die will be immortalized in spirit. It’s the price we pay for fighting for the things we believe in.”

-“Except we’re not the ones paying it.” Akari raised his head facing the mirror head on. “I won’t do it. I won’t put our people through a war, after everything they’ve suffered through. I will find another way to make a place where all Kaleshy can live in peace. A new Kaleshtar empire, built of the hopes and dreams of its people, rather than their blood!” The mirror shook as Akari exclaimed his impassioned cry.

For a moment there was silence. As though Akari had snuffed out all of the doubts in his mind. Then a gaudy laughter filled the room.

-“Ahh, to be young and idealistic again. How you do it is your choice, but I’m glad you’re finally starting to show some resolve, flower bud!” Ozymandias’s voice boomed and caused the ceiling to collapse.

-“Wait! What did you call me?! How do you know about that?!” Akari yelled as the room fell apart around him, and he was swallowed by darkness again.

He woke up. Mona was strolling along slowly and carefully, as not to drop him from her back. Night had fallen, but it wasn’t that cold. Akari looked around. They weren’t in the desert anymore. Lush green fields full of white and purple flowers that bloomed at night spread around them like an endless sea of color. Akari had never seen anything like this. He hadn’t yet seen wildflowers before. The breeze blew through his hair as it carried petals from a nearby cherry tree. Akari pulled on the rains, stopping Mona to get off. He took his shoes off, and started walking barefoot to the cherry tree. The tree stood atop a small incline a short distance away. He was mesmerized by the sight of all this green. He had spent his whole life in the desert, only ever seeing anything grow in artificial gardens made with some sort of magic.

Suddenly he heard the sound of hooves galloping in the distance. ‘Did they follow me here?’ He taught as he turned quickly to Mona. Mona stood in place where he had dismounted her. Her main glistering in the light of the moon. She stared longingly into the distance. When Akari turned to see what she was looking at, he saw a herd of wild horses running in the distance. As Mona stared at the majestic stallions galloping across the open grass fields, Akari walked up. He took off her saddle and her rains. Mona looked at him with visible confusion.

-“I know you want to protect me girl. But you have to be free to bloom too.” He said petting her snout. ”Go now! Be free. I’ll be alright.” He hugged her face tightly. Mona looked at him with indecision. She gave him a big lick on the face.

-“Eww!” Akari yelled. “Go before I get you back for that.”

Mona ran off after the herd, looking back as she ran all the way there. Akari stood alone, looking as the horses dashed away into the night. He picked his stuff up and walked to the cherry tree. He laid down under the rose colored treetop, looking at the stars. ‘Huh what do you know?’ He thought to himself, ‘The stars here are pretty bright too’. He opened the satchel his mother had packed for him. He started rummaging around to find something to eat. An unexpected metallic sensation intrigued him. He grabbed on to a small round object pulling it out of the bag. It was a ring, made of pure gold. A face Akari had seen before perturbed out of the band at the front.

‘The ring of Ozymandias, the only family heirloom not stolen from us. It’s supposed to be passed down the generations from emperor to emperor. Mom put this in my bag?’ He raised the ring to inspect it more closely. The light of the moon and the stars reflected of it with a golden color that made the ring glow like some sort of halo. ‘I guess it’s mine by right.’ The face on the ring stared at him with expecting eyes, as if it was itching to adorn his finger. He stood up and put on the ring.

-“On this day, I swear to this ring, to my mother, to Mosi, to Ozymandias and all my people, I will return one day! And when I do, I will bring change with me, the likes of which the world has never seen before!” Akari declared to the world as the rays of the first morning sun burst over the horizon and the flower buds on the tree above him started to bloom.                          

[for-peace-war]

art by @idrawbuffgirls​

Part VI is the final part of this series prior to its in-game conclusion.  It was a lot of fun doing it... thought his one went to an hour and a half because I had to look up a lot of information.  All the same, thank everyone that followed the story to this point.  It means a lot to me that people found it worth looking at in any regard.

This follows @iamreinhardt‘s Valenso the Zingaran. And as always, thanks Kelzack for the awesome art!

THE GREAT WINGED ONE.

Follows Part I.

Follows Part II.

Follows Part III

Follows Part IV.

Follows Part V.

Part VI.

VALENSO THE ZINGARAN vantage of the vivacious Vendhyan vixen enveloped in velvet violated what vaunted virtues he envisioned for himself.  She was an exotic acquisition—black hair that fell like a funeral pall along her lightly toasted features.  In motion her body was a series of quiet seductions, which the Zingaran had enjoyed many, many times the nights prior.  She claimed that her father was a brahmin of the priestly varna.  He informed her that if that was the case, then her father had sinned mightily—for to steal a piece of the heavens and offer it to infidels, now could that be anything short of sacrilege?  And then he had sinned mightily with her.

Oh, what a time it had been.

“You do not sleep?” She asked.  Her voice was quiet and husky, the sort that made bedroom chatter incline toward bedroom play.  Though he spoke enough Vendhyan to get around when needed, Valenso did not care to engage her in the tongue; he much preferred to hear her stumble over Iranistani. It was cute—in a way.

But she was correct in her inquiry—he did not sleep.  The air was perfumed not merely in the fading notions of their congress, but spices and the heavy scent of the oils she had placed upon him.  Though that haze had seen him clearly to the point of exhaustion, it had not prevented his mind from remaining fixed on one truth: one unmistakable truth.  It was not that he had lost Zaliki—it was that he had never had her at all.

The Zingaran moved a hand to slap the girl’s bottom, which clapped to a sound nearly as delightful as that which came of her mouth.  She pulled away, the velvet sheets upon her drawn like a whorl in her wake, and revealed more of him to the warm air that infiltrated the ship at its mooring.  She looked back at him playful; he ran a hand through his hair and allowed his amber eyes to take in not merely what was before him, but what was not.  There was no small wonder why he had picked the girl, of course.  She was shapely, with the body of a dancer and the large, heavy breasts of a matron-to-be. Her hips jutted out into vase-like curvature that placed to shape the pottery of the greatest Corinthian kiln master. Along the tops of her breasts and around her midsection, thin lines of a softer shade appeared where her skin had stretched along itself, painting those areas in a pale, though vibrant wave of hues not at all dissimilar from the orange glow of the setting sun. And her eyes—the one that had not been concealed by the sea of black that she swam within, were a brilliant blue so fine that sapphire might well have been carved from them.

No, it was no wonder at all that he had chosen her.

But she was not the wonder that he had chosen.

“I am going to go for a walk,” the Zingaran said. “Try to pretty yourself up a bit for me before I return, yes?”  He winked devilishly at her.  She blushed a fine color along her brown cheeks.  When he drew himself out of bed, he knew that her eyes followed him with admiration.  There were few men that could command enough physical beauty to deny a woman’s inclination for wealth, and few men that commanded enough wealth to make a woman forget how hideous he had become in its acquisition.  Fortunately for her—and more importantly, every woman that had ever crossed paths with him—he was the possessor of the better part of both qualities. He was born into beauty the same as he was born into wealth.  When one was a noble, what else could they expect to know?

She mewled after him. “You do not like what you see?”

His response was to draw her closer by her hair, so that she winced a playful protest, and then kiss her.  It was not the manner of kiss that was intended to claim souls—it was the kind that was meant to stoke a fire and keep it well tended in his absence.  She warmed against him and her hand, covered in golden ringlets, found his strong jaw and stroked the hair upon his chin. His hand moved from the gentle slope of her neck, down to the full, hanging breasts he had favored with so many affections before, and he carefully squeezed upon nipples as dark as earth, and twisted tenderly until she moaned against his lips.  She was heated by his presence, he could feel.  If he wanted, it would have taken him no time at all to slip into bed and back into her in an instant.  Even had he been a pauper—and perish that thought!—he would have been faced with no great resistance.  As a man of the sea, he had learned to navigate all manners of wetness and opened legs were no less wonderful to sail than the open sea.

But, alas, he had business elsewhere—business, and a mind, that though piqued knew it would not be sated on her for the time being.  He drew his hand away from her breast and brought it to her chin, where he pressed his thumb against the side of it and his other fingers claimed portions of her jaw.  She was made to look at him directly then.  He spoke to her, in the slow and patient way a man might have a mule, a child, or any other simple creature not fit to stand as his equal.

“Do not ask whether or not I like what I see, little girl,” he told her. “Pray that I do.”

He did not hurry away from her, but rather dressed slowly in the wake of his command.  Her attention was wholly devoted to him and in those moments, the Zingaran allowed himself to become what he knew he never could truly be: free of worry, of the burden of concern.  The masks he wore would always prevent him from needing to delve deeper into what pressed against him, and just as he slipped back into his fine clothing he could place on more to protect him from the elements that surrounded him.  The warmer climes of Iranistan had made his attire less suitable than it had been previously, so he adopted their garb—a sirwal and a silken coat that followed him as loyally as the Vendhyan girl’s eyes did.

What was her name again?  As he snatched a pear up off the table he reminded himself to ask, but had forgotten his interest in the matter by the time he was tossing it away.

Zariba was a lively city.  Deeper within Iranistan, near Anshan, he knew that Zaliki had claimed to have a need to speak with someone and though he had been inclined to accompany her there were ways in which the Stygian could make a man forget what his true intentions were. After all, she had convinced him—a proud son of the sea—to make a journey to Iranistan of all places.  The coastal condition had made it slightly less daunting to consider, but some part of him knew that even if she had asked to be deposited in the heart of Drujistan, then he would have carried her there.

The streets were filled with the exotic enticements of a decadent world—a world so decadent that even he had made a vow not to enjoy any more of it before he had learned something of what had become of his companion.  What had begun as a vigil, set by himself in her name, had devolved into a torrid series of vices that ranged from beauties to brawn to the bestial things that came between them.  He had no reservations in most cases when it came to taking what he wanted, but when what he wanted could not be taken, it was a hollowing experience. What was the use of all of his skill, coin, and bravado if he could not acquire that which was on his mind?

Why had he allowed her to leave without much protest?

There were times when Valenso thought that he might have seen her in the streets. At the corner of his eyes, perhaps behind a snake charmer or a rug merchant he thought he saw her, nearly fair despite her heritage and draped along the arm of some rich aristocrat. But each time they turned out to be nothing more than voluptuous mirages, and after he had sampled their wares he always came away feeling as if he had wasted even more of his time. But wasn’t it all just a waste of time?

Wasn’t he being an immense fool, in the end?

Marioso, his first mate, had been as clear as his cordiality permitted him.  “If she remains, my lord, then she does not wish to be seen.”  Darmino, a cocksure sailor with a golden tooth, had offered his agreement in the form of a muttered vow that his ‘jigglestick’ was sore from its stay in port for so long. “Me sores is sore,” he declared. Valenso had considered their words and with the aplomb of a man that knew his place in the world, promptly ignored them. For what did either know of what they had seen in the Accursed Lands?  What did either know of what it meant to survive through determination alone?

It was not merely the entertainment of their voyage that kept him so devoted to his post, he knew.  Perhaps in passing when he recounted the tale to another he would say how the temptress, when astride any man on a ship, made the whole world seem a tumult that threatened to swallow him in passions only she could produce—and truthfully, the sight of her ply that secret and dark talent of that came of Luxor’s bosom and undulated as mightily as her own was a sight to behold—but it would have been false. Time spent with Zaliki was less a matter of what one desired, and more one of what could not be obtained. Perhaps they had fucked—and yet, they had not fucked each other.

She fucked him.

He fucked himself.

“What the fuck am I doing here,” the Zingaran said to himself as he strode the streets further.  The arming sword at his side, a masterwork of crafting, felt the only thing that belonged to the man that he was.  It was not love that bade him, he realized with each step that he took.  Nor was it even the devotion of one friend to another. It was something more, something more personal and intimate than even that.

It was that she had promised to return—promised in a way that he knew she could never break.  As childish as it may have been, the Zingaran realized that it was belief in another that had kept him in place!

Gods, had he ever fucked himself!

There were more beauties that met the eyes; delicate creatures, draped in fine fabrics that revealed only their eyes to the passing man.  Daughters of great men, surely, with big eunuch guardsmen that blocked the way of any that would have arrived at their bedchambers.  As he watched one of the women guiding her sisters along the street in detail with her guards, his mind shifted from the sway of her hips to a distant enchantment.  He recalled his adventure with Zaliki when they had arrived in Sabeaa, to the south, and provisioned themselves for the final leg of the trip.  The portside town was of little interest, but it was a tale that two fishermen had shared with the Stygian—informing her of how her beauty would be appreciated by Mirza Hashem, that their interest was piqued.

“The mirza’s palace,” one of the fishermen said, “is a sea of beautiful flowers surrounded by walls of ivory.  Anything that a man could desire can be found within it: wine, women, work—so long as Mirza Hashem has turned his favor upon you, there is no place better to be.”

His friend added, “And considering your beauty, my dear, I do believe you would be right at home among the clouds.”

Valenso had learned long ago how the Stygian’s voice changed when she had something on her mind.  She perfumed her words in a sort of trance that made men sway in the wake of her every word. “Does this palace have mangos?”

“I think so,” one of them said.

She turned back to him and offered him a Shemite’s smile.

“I suppose we are going to get a few mangos, eh?” He grinned.

The fishermen had not been lying.  In fact, they had undersold what awaited them.  In the middle of what should have been desert stood ivory walls that were so pale they made the surrounding sands seem as though mud.  Fine music coated the air about them, and the glittering golden armor of the guardsmen at the gate shone with enough brilliance to make him squint. There were any number of reasons not to go into the garden—for a mango, no less—yet Zaliki’s prodding made him feel it was worthwhile.

Oh, how right that feeling had been.

An adventure including an enraged Mirza Hashem, a vow to see them dead, the echoes of pleasure from the mirza’s finest concubine in his mind, several rings that then coated his fingers—and one mango later, they had retreated with laughter back to his ship and enjoyed the spoils of an evening well won.  It had been a glorious moment, indeed.

“It is rare you smile so openly,” a woman said to his right.  She was tall and golden-hued, shaped as if Ishtar herself, with regal cheekbones and a head of brown hair that fell gently past her shoulders.  The turquoise green of her eyes and the way her full lips formed into a familiar smile were unforgettable.

“Zaliki.”

“Valenso.”  She stood before him in the flesh—flesh as lovely and pure as it had been when last he saw her.  Daylight had begun to retreat from the pale walls of the city and those within it began to retreat into their homes.  Zaliki, dressed as a local townswoman, offered him a smile.  In some strange way, the cotton seemed far more exotic upon her than the silks he had last seen her in.  She was almost normal—and that made some part of his mind want to see the creature inside of her all the more.  The smile she offered him was greedily accepted; he devoured her with his eyes.

“I was only thinking of—”

“Mangos,” she finished for him.

He smiled. “Yes, mangos.”

But there was something about the air that was different.  Valenso eyed her more carefully.  Had she been injured—was she being used as a trap of some kind? Danger did not escape her, neither did a reason for sympathy.  She was not the same woman, though.  “Are you ready to leave?”

“I am,” she said.

“Thank the gods.  I could not suffer much more of this place.”

“Thank you for enduring it as long as you have.”

They walked back to his ship in relative silence, chatting as if she had not vanished off into the darkness one night and returned with the arrival of another ominous might.  Reminiscing became a protection against the moment they were in: it was a mask, that allowed them to delight in the off-putting of a heartbreak that he had not yet felt and yet had already experienced a thousand times in a thousand different ways. The moon described a path for them, but where it led was a mystery to Valenso.  He could still feel how soft her skin was; knew that her thews were silken sheaths over sturdier stuff.  The body of the woman beside him was not one he would ever forget, and yet what was within it—that was what confused him.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Part of it,” she said.

“You should see the woman I found to pass time with in your absence.  Your Derketo would find no reason to complain of her.” He thought to compare her to her directly—to perhaps draw a bit of jealousy out of her so that when they fell to play upon the girl, she would be as mean as she was invigorating.  Yet that idea felt like an aborted dream, divided by a chasm that denied what was—and what could ever be.

A phantom’s romance floated off of Zaliki’s voice when she spoke. “Did she satisfy you?”

He found that question surprisingly difficult to answer.  “In a way,” he said.  The Zingaran looked at her and noted her eyes were turned toward the distance as they walked. He looked to the starry sky. “I have had better, I suppose.”

“And worse,” she said.

“And worse.”

“It is always good to remember that. Better—and worse.”

Their conversation became more fleeting.  Iranistan’s streets had become empty and for an ephemeral moment, Valenso wished that Mirza Hashem’s golden-scaled men might have emerged from an alley and forced them to fight their way from their midst to his ship, where a speedy retreat would have been met with laughter and lust.  But the streets were quiet and the only gold that saw was that which they wore.

When they arrived back at his ship, they stopped.

Valenso spoke first.  “You aren’t coming back with me, are you?”

The Stygian was quiet for a moment.  When she spoke, her voice was of a different world.  “No.”

“Then why did you come back at all?”

She stepped closer to him and with a gentle touch, placed her thumb to his chin, and allowed her fingers to claim possession of his bearded jaw.  She kissed him, not in the manner that made one’s flames come to life, but in a way that caused the soul to release it had been relinquished at long last. The masks that he wore fell to the floor, and he realized that he no longer cared for the coins he had acquired or the beauties he had known. Truthfully, even the Vendhyan that waited for him hot as the flames that had spawned her could not promise him a moment of what he saw before himself.

“Goodbye, Valenso.”

“Zaliki,” he said her name as if holding her by it.   He was a nobleman of fine blood, who had conquered the seas and escaped the Accursed Lands.  Saying her name should have been enough—it should have held her fast, as fast as his hands might if he could seized her. Even that act felt helpless, though.  He knew that he could not hold her—that man could, in the end.  “Where are you going?”

The Stygian’s silence was agonizing.  She turned her eyes toward him once more—eyes that joined the craftiness of her Shemitish and Stygian blood, yet somehow were able to convey an earnest concern where neither bloodline would have done so on their own.

“If I tell you, you must promise never to tell another.”

He did so.

She told him.

The Zingaran swore to never tell a soul of where she had gone—or to ask himself how he could allow her to go there, alone.

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Shine On

Jesus, I’m looking over this and I’m realizing: this is bleak as fuck. But I’ve had this written out in Word forever, and so I decided to post it before my next orientation starts today. This’ll probably be the last thing I write for a while, cuz classes start Wednesday and I wanna focus on my classes. But for now, enjoy this! This is another writing for @cosmicrealmofkissteria‘s Assassin AU, and I’m... not entirely sure where it takes place. I know it takes places after New Beginnings, but that’s pretty much it. Enjoy!

Beth thought she could escape the family she left behind. She still hasn’t forgotten about them... and they haven’t forgotten about her. 

Beth didn’t have many memories of her grandfather that she considered good ones, but there were a few. When he wasn’t running the mob, he was actually a decent grandfather; he played with her, told her stories about World War II and his army friends, even sat down and played with her and her dolls once. Though, that last one was because she had been pretending to be a mafia boss over her dolls, he had bene watching her, and he only came in to play because he said she wasn’t doing it right.

Another memory she had of him was when he played his records. He had a ton of old records from the 30s, 40s, and 50s, and would play them all the time. But not in the place you would expect, in his living room. Oh no; he played them in the warehouses, in the background while his hitmen and guards cut up the latest person who crossed him.

His favorite one to play was “Shine On Harvest Moon.” Beth never learned why, but he loved to put on that one, and amidst the screams of the victims, he could even be heard humming along to Ruth Etting’s voice as it played on the old record player.

It was coming to her now as she drove down the road through the Nevada desert. Snow time ain’t no time to stay outdoors and spoon… So shine on, shine on harvest moon, for me and my gal…

The wheels of her car ran over a bump, and she heard a thump from the trunk. Beth winced a bit, but other than that just kept driving. She would have to get way out into the middle of nowhere to do what she had to do… 

--

Earlier

Beth unlocked the door of her apartment, then she and Vinnie walked inside, talking jovially. It had been a good shift for both of them at the Luxor, and now they would be relaxing and eating takeout.

Vinnie placed the bag of takeout containers on the kitchen counter. “I’m going to go freshen up a bit, all right?”

“Sure. Don’t be too long, or I’ll eat everything!”

Vinnie laughed as he went down the hall to the bathroom. She heard a door open, then close, and he came back. “Did you wash the towels in the laundry yesterday?”

“Uh, yeah, they should be in my room.”

Vinnie nodded, then turned and disappeared down the hall again, this time turning on the hallway light.

Beth set out plates and silverware on the table, and was about to go to her room to change clothes when she suddenly heard a thump. She froze. There was another thump, then a crash. And all coming from her room.

Beth reached into her purse and pulled out a switchblade knife. She pressed the button and the blade flicked out, and she carefully stepped down the hallway towards her room.

Suddenly, the door banged open, and Vinnie flew into the hallway, landing on his back with a grunt of pain.

“Vinnie!” Beth ran to him and knelt down. There was a bruise forming on his cheek, but other than that he seemed all right. Vinnie groaned as he quickly sat up. “Vinnie, what’s—”

A huge figure came skulking out of Beth’s room, a man in a black suit. Vinnie quickly got to his feet and dragged her behind him. “Who are you?” he demanded of the person. “What do you want?”

The man looked at him, then at Beth behind him, and spoke: “Il tuo sangue,”

Italian. Both of them knew what it meant: Your blood.

The man lunged at Vinnie, wielding a huge carving knife. Vinnie pushed Beth farther away before twisting himself out of the way of the knife.

What happened next… Beth didn’t remember for certain. All she remembered was Vinnie being thrown to the ground, and her running up behind the man and stabbing him in the back with her switchblade. Then he turned and flung his hand, slapping her in the face and sending her sprawling to the ground. Then suddenly Vinnie was there, wrapping a thin wire around the man’s neck with a look of bloodthirsty rage on his face.

She did remember one certain detail: Vinnie hissing, “Come ci si sente a incontrare l’amorevole abbraccio della morte, grande uomo?”

How does it feel to meet death’s loving embrace, big man?

The man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and Vinnie released him. He fell to the ground, and didn’t move.

Vinnie retracted the wire into… somewhere, then rushed over to Beth and helped her sit up. His hand ran over her cheek where she had been struck. “Are you okay?” he murmured.

Beth just stared blankly at the body. The body of the man her cousin had just killed. In the hallway light, she could see his face now… and she knew who it was.

“… can call the police,” Vinnie was saying. “We can tell them he was in your bedroom—”

“No,”

Beth slowly shook her head. Her whole body felt numb. She picked up her switchblade knife and got to her feet. “We… We have to get him to the kitchen,”

Vinnie looked at her, then his eyes widened. “Beth, we can’t—”

“We have to,” Beth cut him off. “You know we have to. If we call the police, they’ll start poking around. They’ll find out about you, and you’ll be in prison before you can say it was self-defense.”

“But… I don’t know how…”

“I do. Just help me get him to the kitchen.”

After helping her drag the man to the kitchen, Vinnie left, presumably to check the damage to the carpet in the hallway. Either that, or because he couldn’t watch.

Beth cleaned off her switchblade under the sink, then put it back into her purse. Then she took up the knife the man had been wielding and another carving knife, and set to work.

“First, you need to cut off any way he can be identified. Tattoos, birthmarks, even little moles. Always check to make sure…”

It was a bit of a rush job, but Beth wasn’t concerned too much about that right now. When she was finished, she stood up and went to the coat closet, where she had another one of her work uniforms wrapped up in a black bag. She took out the costume, careful not to get blood on it, and brought the black bag into the kitchen.

Vinnie came back into the kitchen just as Beth was zipping up the black bag. “Is it done?”

Beth nodded. “It’s done.” She stood up, and lifted the black bag. She tried to make it seem like she was carrying the uniform inside. “Wait here until I get back.”

“Where are you going?”

Beth didn’t reply. She just headed for the door.

“Beth, wait!”

“Stay here,” she only said. Then she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Vinnie followed her to the door and watched her go. “Beth, wait!” he shouted desperately. “Come back!”

Beth froze at those words—but only for a moment. Then she kept walking.

--

When Beth was sure she was in the middle of nowhere, she pulled off the road and onto the desert terrain. The car bounced and jostled, but she merely slowed down and kept driving. She stopped when she couldn’t see the road anymore, and got out and went to her trunk. She lifted the black bag over her shoulder, and went behind her car to dump it onto the ground. She went back to her car and pulled out a shovel. As she walked away from her car, her grandfather’s favorite song came to mind again.

The night was mighty dark so you could hardly see… For the moon refused to shine…

She pushed the tip of the shovel into the ground, and began to dig.

She dug, and dug, and dug, trying to ignore the melody playing loudly in her head.

Couple sittin’ underneath the willow tree. For love, they pined…

“Come back!”

--

“Vinnie!” Beth ran after her cousin’s retreating form as fast as her young legs could carry her. She grabbed hold of his wrist and looked up at him pleadingly. “Please don’t go!”

Vinnie looked down at her sorrowfully and bent down on one knee. “I can’t stay, Beth. I have to go.”

“Then… Then I wanna go with you!” Beth insisted.

Vinnie shook his head. “No… It’s too dangerous for you, Beth. You need to stay here.”

Quiet sobs began to escape Beth’s throat as Vinnie drew her into a hug. He held her tightly, stroking her hair. “Goodbye, Bethie,”

He kissed her cheek, then pulled away and stood up. Beth stood there frozen, tears running down her cheeks, as Vinnie went out the door. “Vinnie, please don’t leave!” she pleaded. Vinnie didn’t look back at her. “Please don’t leave me! Come back!”

--

Beth dug until the hole she had created was large enough and deep enough. She set down the shovel, then went over to the black bag. It was very late now, and the sky was dark. Stars dotted the sky above her.

Little maid was kinda ‘fraid of darkness… So she said, “I guess I’ll go…”

She hefted up the bag, and walked back over to the hole. Then she tossed the bag, and the body, into the hole. It landed at the bottom with a satisfying crash.

Beth grabbed her shovel again, wiped sweat off her brow, then got to work filling the hole, tossing dirt and sand over the bag.

The boy began to sigh, looked up at the sky, told the moon his little tale of woe…

--

Beth lurked in the corner of the room as people milled about, drinking and talking. She hated being dragged to Nana’s parties, and was just waiting for the right time where she could go up to Nana and say she was leaving.

Her eyes fell on her grandfather. He certainly painted the picture of a jovial old man; sipping his wine, talking, and laughing. No one would ever suspect who or what he really was.

A man she recognized as his secretary walked up to him, and whispered in his ear. Papa’s smile faded, and he turned to the group of people he’d been chatting with. “Mi scusi,”

Then he left with his secretary.

After a few more minutes, Beth decided to see what they were up to. But as she entered the foyer, she saw that it was too late. Papa was escorting to the door a man in a grey suit, who was followed by…

Beth’s eyes widened.

“You better be willin’ to pull your weight in this deal, Mr. Caringi,” the man said to Papa.

“Of course I will, Mr. Aucoin,” Papa replied. “Have I ever went behind your back before?”

The man shook hands with Papa, then snapped his fingers. “Let’s go,”

He stepped forward, and followed the man out the door.

Papa didn’t even notice her. Instead, he passed her and went back inside the living room. Beth was left alone, staring at the door.

“Vinnie,” she whispered. She walked toward the door, slowly picking up speed. She wrenched the door open and ran out into the cold December air. “Vinnie!”

But she was too late; the car was already pulling away. She chased after it. “Vinnie!” she screamed. “Come back!”

The car seemed to gain speed, almost as if the driver was taunting her. Beth slowed to a stop and fell to her knees as the car turned down a street and disappeared.

“Come back,” she whimpered. “Please don’t leave me…”

--

The hole was filled now, almost as though it had never existed. Beth threw her shovel into the trunk, closed it, then got back into her car.

The sky was still dark as she pulled into a gas station. She got out of her car and went to a payphone, pulling out her coin purse. She inserted enough money, then dialed the right number.

The phone rang for a few moments, then a voice. “Hello?”

“Get me your boss. Now.” Beth ordered, switching into Italian.

There was some rustling, then faint voices, and then another voice. “Do you know what fuckin’ time it is?”

“Such language,” Beth sneered. “If Papa could hear you now… He’d have your head.”

There was a pause, then the voice switched to Italian. “What do you want?”

“I received your message. You know, the one you sent all the way to Las Vegas for me?”

Another pause. “Where is he now?”

“Six feet under somewhere in the Nevada desert. Next time, send me a letter.”

“I only wanted to—”

“I don’t care what you wanted to do. I’m still not coming back. I’m not a scared little child anymore. So leave me the fuck alone. I have a life here, one that I actually enjoy, and I am not going to let you fuck that up. If you ever try a stunt like this again, I’ll send your man back with a message of my own… and you won’t like it.”

“Elizabeth… I’m your family.”

Beth’s grip on the phone tightened until her knuckles were white. “Some family.”

Then she hung up.

--

Oh, shine on, shine on harvest moon, up in the sky…

Beth unlocked the door, then stepped into her apartment. She saw that the kitchen floor had been cleaned of any blood as she closed the door and locked it.

Vinnie was sitting at the kitchen table, nervously chewing his fingernails, and looked up when she entered. “Did you…”

Beth went over and nodded. “Yeah,”

Vinnie nodded. “Okay…”

There was a pause. Then, suddenly, all the emotions Beth should have been feeling that night hit her all at once. Tears glossed over her vision, and she felt them running down her cheeks as she started to cry.

I ain’t had no lovin’ since April, January, June, or July…

Vinnie got up and wrapped his arms around her. Beth wrapped her arms around his torso, and buried her face in his shoulder. “Please don’t leave me,” she choked out.

Gentle hands stroked her hair. “I won’t,” 

Beth gripped him tighter. “Promise you won’t,” 

“I promise, Bethie,” 

The two of them stood there, hugging each other. And it was in the comfort of Vinnie’s arms that Beth remembered the last bit of the old song, and the melody that still haunted her.

Snow time ain’t no time to stay outdoors and spoon… So shine on, shine on harvest moon, for me and my gal.

[finchbeak]

Cairo Travelogue Days 8/9

This is the last entry I write in Cairo. I cannot fathom this being my last night/day here. (And to think I thought I booked too many days.) I've only begun to scratch the surface of Cairo and I'm not sure even doubling my time here would have revealed its many intricacies and layers. Cairo is, more than all its many superlatives, complex. It has been both one of the most wondrous cities I've been to and one of the most maddening.  

I was going to wait until I got home to write this entry- a more comprehensive look at Cairo- but no one really wants to read about my day shopping (in short: Zamalek is lovely, Khan al-Khalili is really fucking insane on Friday evenings, I almost couldn't get postcards, and I totally got into a shouting match, in my really bad Arabic, with a taxi driver.) And today was boring with packing and whatnot. So… Final thoughts, musings on Cairo (long, sorry).

I want to start out with this one, because it is really important: Cairo is not dangerous. It is not scary.  It is not even hard on the travel difficulty spectrum. It is safe. It is relatively easy. And all the nonsense you hear is blown way out of proportion.

Things I was told/warned about/read from various sources- from real live people to articles to guidebooks (and this is pretty much just for women): never go out at night by yourself and even with someone, think twice; wear a wedding band, even if you aren't married; never go out by yourself, period. Only go out with a group; wear sunglasses to avoid eye contact with men; don't go to Tahrir Square; expect to be harassed nonstop; don't sit in the front seat of the car with any man, ever, no exceptions; do not make physical contact with any man, ever, no exceptions; don't take public transport; don't show any skin. That's just what I can think of off the top of my head. There were more.

There are so many things wrong with all of these pieces of ‘advice.’ But the most egregious? They all presume two things: that women can't handle themselves in a difficult situation and that Egyptian men are barbaric. It's insulting on so many levels. Grossly insulting, in fact. I don't know what's worse, the thinly veiled misogyny or the thinly veiled racism. Take your pick.

The only thing on that list I didn't do? Take public transport. And it's not because of any fear or reservation, the train just didn't go to any of the places I wanted to go in a convenient manner. I had half a mind to get on the train today and just take it a few stops and back just to say I did it.

Here are the things you really need to know about Cairo:

- Yes, you need to wear sunglasses almost all of the time. Not to avoid eye contact with men, but because the sun glares down with an insane intensity;

- Water. Maya, in Egyptian Arabic. Carry it with you always. And keep small bills/coins in your pocket so you can go up to any random stand and pay 3 £E for a new bottle (seriously, not a single word in any guide book or article about how fucking important this is. I averaged at least 4 liters a day after my day 1 mishap.) Learn to ask for it. Ayza maya, low samaht. (Ayz, if you're a dude);

- Will you get chattered at/cat called if you are a woman? Yes. But let me tell you...Marrakech? Exponentially worse. I wandered through downtown Cairo. At night. I wandered through Khan al-Khalili, in areas I should not have been and at night. And I wasn't followed. I wasn't harassed. I was not physically touched by anyone other than old ladies pushing through the crowd. I have never, not once, felt unsafe or scared or anything even remotely close to these things during my stay;

- Carry tissue with you. Always. Trust me;

- JFC, ladies, you don't have to be in a full on Burka. Shit, not even a Niqab or al-Amira or Hijab. Just be fucking polite. I was, not joking, the only western woman with a headscarf whilst wandering through the two mosques in the Citadel.  I was also the only one that didn't need to be prompted to take off her shoes when entering the Mosques. Apparently this is rarer than it should be because I was approached by multiple men and women working the Mosques and actually thanked. Yes, your friendly neighborhood atheist is better at Mosque protocol than most;

- The pollution is real. My lungs/asthma are not happy about this trip;

- If you have red hair you will be ogled. By children;

- Learn Arabic numbers. Especially key if you are going to use Uber while you are here. The first 3 or 4 things on a license plate are numbers and you need to be able to tell which car is yours. ١٢٣٤٥٦٧٨٩ (thanks, Mina, for teaching me this!)

The one real danger in Cairo: crossing the street. Seriously. The only time I was actually in danger was when I needed to cross traffic. I've since channeled my inner Cairene and can now cross any street in the city without hesitation, but those first couple of days had even this seasoned Bostonian moving with trepidation.

Regrets (in no particular order):

- Not figuring out the white desert before I got here;

- Not thinking about Luxor or Aswan;

- Not taking public transport;

- Not flaunting norms and just sitting at one of those cafes filled with old men and no one else (honestly, if I had conversational Arabic I would have done this);

- Not getting on Bumble/Tinder and finding my future Egyptian husband 😉;

- Not eating more street food;

- Not learning all of the Arabic alphabet.

Final thoughts/caveats: all of the above is just my experience. I don't want to discount other women's stories, but, by and large, I just didn't have anything close to the experience I was warned about. Maybe I have thicker travel skin? Maybe my Boston Bitch face and don't mess with me walk was an actual deterrent. I have, in the not so distant past, been told I'm intimidating and unapproachable, so perhaps that's it. Who knows?

What I do know is that there was at least one truism about Cairo that I read: if you love Cairo, it will definitely love you back.

[letuscomposefanfics]

I'm Not Convinced Part 3

(Phillip Hamilton X Reader) Words: 5200+ Summary: High School was a pain in the ass. You and single mother don’t have much money. She works double shift and double jobs. One of her jobs is working for the Hamilton family as a part time house keeper. Ironically, the biggest douche happens to be part of that family. (I can’t write a summary) AU: Modern AU Warnings: Just horrible grammar.. Cursing?? Tell me if there is any I did not put. Cringey. I’m tired so there is a lot of errors.

The night had soft wind, and the city lights were a sight for sore eyes. Parking lights shining like a army of fireflies flutter by as the angry red (much like your dress) tail lights head another direction. The scent of smoke takes you back at your stay that was old, but still bracket your memories: Gambling Capital of the World or formerly known as Las Vegas. The other city with bright lights and excitement! As a little gal you would wander the streets with your pops, and get a virgin pina colada in the lobby of Excalibur. That the three towered and red and blue castle-style hotel was the hotel your family would occasionally go to. On late nights, the three of you would ride on the moving walkways that were provided in the tunnel to the Luxor- a Egyptian themed hotel. The pyramid always greeted you when you rode up the highway to the city. The building was tiled with tinted windows and the top was a light on the tip of the pyramid, which would generate a beam of light. Majestic sand stone sculptures of gods, goddesses, and maybe a pharaoh, if you could remember, were planted on the sides of the structure.

You anxiously sigh out a steamy breath. Wealthy men and women walked elegantly in their clothing, which would cost your soul, entered in a brick red mansion blaring with classical music. Vines were already hooked onto the mansion, giving it a charming look. Lanky, black metal fences bordered the house securely, which left a big elegant gate cracked wide open for the guests. Lights stood tall besides the brick pathway with guest sauntering through them. Two guards were pinpointed next to the entrance of the large resident with a dull and rather expressionless fact. The said wealthy men and women revealed their invitation to the guards, and nodded a silent thank you as they strolled in with posture. The dress you were equipped with wasn’t exactly from the top french designer. You tried to stabilize yourself in your damn heels as you stood there waiting for your mom getting out the car. The invitation wrinkled in your sweat drenched hands as you blankly stared at the paper containing your name. You could feel eyes on you as they pass by and saunter over to the resident. You constantly picked at your hair while you chew the inside of your cheek. The feeling that nailed your stomach was always familiar and always failed to cease. It was that little devil on your shoulder that would squeak, “You are gonna screw up and you’ll be the example a parent will use when a kid fucks up.”

“(Y/N) (L/N).” A man robotically states your name on a microphone. You were twelve, the age where kids bloom in judgmental bitches and act like the the big kids in the park. It was the end of hell and the eve of something spectacular. Spectacular as in summer’s natural tanning light and a excuse to stay in with tub full of ice cream.The dream of homework-free, late nights, and multiple sleep overs made you stir with excitement. Traditionally, the school hosts something for the students to show their talents and find themselves a possible career. You were number five on the list of your peers. You, a immature twelve year old toddler, slapped on too much makeup, which your friend suggest you and them their selves should doll you up. You were pretty sure you had pre-mature wrinkles because of the weight of your foundation. Once your number was called up you clicked in your one one inch heels that had dwarfed sized bows near the edge of the entrance of your shoes. Click, Click, Click. You wore a emerald green velvet dress accompanied with small little crystals planted on the top part of your attire. You shifted in the heels uncomfortably with the spotlight glaring down. The fear began to accelerate in a monstrous rate, and your short breaths took in the dust from the curtain. You sang with nervous little waver that come once in awhile. At the (sweet) ending of your song, your rubbed your eyes. Giggles popped up from the crowd like unwanted mushrooms in a soft green field. Your heart quickened and embarrassed tears sat on the edge of your eyelids. The childish laughter were carved into your memories. They exchange comparisons of what you look like with your smudged make up. You hoped to god some student pitied your appearance, and the laughter that made you wobble in embarrassment and regret stopped.The teachers on the edge of each row silenced them with a sharp ‘hush’. The principle guided you off stage with a arm around your shrunken shoulders. The button on his dress shirt’s sleeve scraped against the blade of your shoulder lightly. “You did wonderfully, Ms. (L/N).” He reassured with a clap on a the shoulder. You murmured a ‘thank you’ in return. “Now, go get yourself cleaned up.” You clicked away in your heels. Catching a small glimpse of yourself in decade old mirrors, you whimpered. “Cake face . Cake face.” The heels began to exclaim angrily against the tiles as you passed the mirrors. You swiftly closed the door of the (handicap) stall. Popping off your heels as you sit on the bathroom. Like in a soap opera, you wept and sank into the sand of embarrassment and the feeling of becoming the clown of your school. What would they think of you in the future? They don’t remember much you will soon realize through out the years. You were just so insecure to be blind about the fact it was a smidge on the window not a coat of paint. But, you are still blindfolded by insecurities and anxiety. The memory still jumps on you, which sculps you for who you are right at the moment. You don’t cry at the memory, but you fear that someone will laugh at it in the future. No elixir can stop your stammering and the uncomfortable tickles in your stomach.

Your mom finally exited the vehicle with uniform on. The two of you crossed the street with her arm linked around yours. The clicks of your heels mocked you just like middle school. “Cake face. Cake face.” It now whispers. You sharply exhaled through your nose as you threw a glance behind the old vehicle. The flavoring of the smoke traveled through your mouth as you did. “No escapin’ now, huh?” You muttered under your breath. Your mom bounced on the ball of her feet with a bright smile. You offered a thin line as your mouth and a simple walk with stressed shoulders as you step. By the time you were near the enterance, your mom broke off her link with you and stated she was going to the entrance for the staff. “Be good to the Hamilton, okay?” The older women pecked a wet kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you inside!” Your mom scampered off to the side of the building. The colony of waiters and waitress all rushed through the door. Your mom being the last one to get in. “And then now is the time to escape from socializing and seeing real people other than my mom.” You narrated. You began to twist your away from the residents. “(Y/N!)” A voice exclaimed cheerfully before you could turn you heard the familiar sound of heels, but they didn’t whisper a thing. Ms. Hamilton smiles brightly as you face her with a polite and awkward smile. The border of her black strands glowed a coffee stain brown as she stood in the light. Her dress held the pigment of the baby blue sky and her neck held up a golden pendant. She looked elegant. “Ms. Hamilton, it’s good to see you.” You greeted. You fidgeted with your hands with the craving for escape. Eliza or Elizabeth Hamilton giggled, her childish giggles were unforgettable and lovable. You reciprocated with a small awkward laughter of your own- not as adorable as her’s, though, you thought. Mrs. Hamilton startled you when she grasped your hand with a smile Alexander Hamilton fell for. You didn’t withdraw your hand from hers. “Please, darling. Call me Eliza, okay?” She corrected politely. “Okay!” You blurted out. Eliza laughed once again. Making you swoon in response. “I’m your friend! No need for formalities with friends, am I correct?” She questioned, knowing she was indeed correct. You nodded rapidly with a shy smile. “Now, what are you doing leaving so early? I haven’t even seen you walked through those doors. Were you planning to never come?” She joked. “Well. Um…I.. Panicked? I guess-guess.. Y-you could say?” You stammered trying to find a polite way to tell the truth. Eliza shook her head and gave out her charming laughter accompanied with her lovely smile. “Calm down, love. I was only joking. “ Eliza Hamilton reassured you with a pat on the back of your hand. “I love your dress, sweetheart! You look very beautiful in it! Did your mom do your hair?” Shades of pink was fanned across the bridge of your nose as she complimented you. “T-Thank you and yeah, yeah she did.” You shyly answered. “I-I love your dress too! Blue is one my favorite colors. Y-your necklace look vintage.” You awkwardly complimented. “I think that’s pretty cool.” You added. “Thank you, my mother gave it to me as a wedding present. This little thing has been in the family for years.” Mrs.Hamilton chirped. “Evening, Mrs. Hamilton.” A man greets stoically as he makes a beeline over to the entrance. The man was old, but not frail, he wore a tailcoat and wooden cane that was on his right side. He ignores your presence and kept his head high. Douche. Rich douche. “Evening, sir.” She nods in response before he passes the two of you. It was silent for a moment when enters through the door. “Serious.” You say with a small laughter. She giggles and nods in agreement.”That’s how people are sometimes.” She shrugs carelessly.“Come on the party is inside! Your mother would be worried if you were boxed missing!” Eliza grins excitedly as she drags you over through the door frame. ” O-oh, wait! No, i-it’s okay!” You attempt to plead, but your words were shrinked down by her excitement. Your heart beat accelerated, the feeling of few pairs of eyeballs on you made you shiver. The wooden flooring of the house was a strong coffee bean pigment and the sky-high ceiling was pinching onto the end of a glass chandelier. Two set of stairs were planted on the opposite side; curving inward, connecting to the top floor. People were in small petals of groups chattering away with appetizers and/or drinks in hand. They laughed comfortably at a joke you couldn’t hear. You hoped that joke wasn’t you. “Lot’s of people you got here.” You thought out loud, avoiding the crowds eyes by staring at the back of Eliza’s black hair. “Unfortunately, that’s just the small portion of the party.” Eliza Hamilton smiled as she dragged you.“Most of them are in the ballroom and the other portion are chatting away in the yard. Even though it’s hard to handle, it’s fun to have guest.” Eliza added on. Her response made you even more panicked. The orchestra was loud and clear as you both made your way through the maze of guest. The violins out played the other instruments that were muddle behind them. They played a soft and familiar tune, but the name was never confidently made up in your head- you did know it was possibly by Beethoven or Mozart. You muttered out a few “sorry”s and “excuse me”s every time your shoulder kiss with another guest. “Cake face. Cake face. Cake face.” It whispered in the same volume, same tone. Never changing the pattern, it follows every step you take. Crushing your toes like a toddler trying to learn how to dance with their father. Eliza dragged you to the elegant ballroom. Three sets of chandeliers aligned with each other on the ceiling. At least half of the room was dancing, the other half chat about something you will never know. You spotted a group of men laughing and gawking about a topic you chose not to eavesdrop in. “Alexander!” Mrs. Hamilton hollered. The man in a emerald vest spun around instantly when he had heard his name. He grinned politely, but forced- almost like he was ready for another conversation being dosed down his throat. The crinkles in the corner of his eyes relaxed and his smile was soft with adoration. Alexander’s eyes carried bags and the memory of sleepless nights. His glasses rode on the bridge of his nose, almost slipping. The older man’s black hair hovered slight over his shoulder. The ends of his hair was slightly fluffed out. “Eliza!” He responded cheerfully. Alexander spun back around,”Excuse me while I speak with my wife.” He mutters out. The men around him nodded and scuttle else where. Alexander spun around with a easy going smile. “My love, please meet Mrs. Manning’s daughter. (Y/N) please meet my true love, Alexander.” Mrs. Hamilton introduced. Confused, you were expecting Mrs. Hamilton to use your mother’s correct surname. Your stomach clenched even more anxiously, the man of house was in front of you. The boss of your mother. You smile politely towards Mr. Hamilton gave you the same polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hamilton.” You greet with your hand stuck out in front of you. Alexander chuckled as he shook your hand with a tight grip. His wife walked over by his side and looped her arm around his, snuggling up to his shoulder. Eliza’s chin sat on his shoulder as he began to continue. “It’s good to finally meet you, but please call me Alexander. There is no need for formalities.” Alexander Hamilton chided with a familiar correction that his wife has told you.“Your mother has talks about you a lot.” He added. “I hope only good things.” You joked awkwardly. The waiters offered the three of you a small portioned edible. You declined with a smile and a wave of a hand. The Hamiltons took their own snack and thanked them as they wandered off. “I assure you she’s proud to be your mother,” Eliza butted in the conversation.”She said that you used to play piano and that you are a very hard working student.” She began to list off. “Especially in english.” Eliza added with her kind smile never faltering. “I used to play piano, but I procrastinated and never practiced.” Idiotic idea for me to do,” you added. “I would still like to learn, but it’s hard to find a good deal.” You shared. It was silent between the three of you for a second. You nervously spun the bracelet around your wrist. “I have one question.” You started off. “If it’s okay for me to ask.” The couple nodded, wanting you to hope onto the next dialogue.” Why did you use my mom’s maiden instead of her name my dad gave us?” You asked. “Isn’t your mother’s last name Manning?” Eliza questioned. You nodded your head, perplexed by this situation.” It is, but it isn’t, like, the one my dad gave me and ma.” Eliza hummed,“Interesting, she filled out Manning.” The lady of the house muttered. You furrowed your brows, attempting to find an explanation. “She probably thought it was best to go by her maiden name for odd some reason. Like God, my mom works in mysterious ways.” You rambled, shrugging. “Now (Y/N), I heard my boy is in a few of your classes. How is he treating you?” Mr. Hamilton jested with a small chuckle. You chuckled along with the man. “He talks to me from times to time.” You state truthfully. “Sometimes we would have full on conversation.” Arguments. They were full on bashing arguments. “They mostly happen during first period.” Unadulterated moaning and groaning at each other is what happens in first period. “That’s great that you two are talking and getting along.” Eliza Hamilton chirped. “Yeah me too.” You humor her. “Philip!” Alexander exclaimed as he looked passed your shoulder. Your heart stopped. You were going to have to be dumped in a conversation with him forcefully. You couldn’t escape. “Pa, ma.” Philip greeted as walked up next to you. He glances to the side, but doesn’t catch you until he retraces his eyes at you. “(Y/N).” The younger Hamilton states your name curtly, he nods. “Philip,” You craned your body towards the boy.”It’s good to see you out of the classroom.” A smile tries to cling onto your lips. You heard laughter off in the distance. “I could say the same for yourself, (Y/N).” He responds with a forced grinned. Your smile faltered into a smaller grin. Phillip was handsomly addressed with the same design his father has soft, but with a blue pigment instead. He had a pair of tan slackers with sneakers. Lucky, mother fucker. You growled internally. “Now this might seem like a weird question. Do you think you can handle it?”Mr. Hamilton asked. “I’m pretty sure I can handle a simple question.” You answered simply. “Alright,” He kicked started. “(Y/N) are you seeing anyone at the moment?” Alexander inquired. Air was stuck in your throats for a second. Your heart quickened, which caused your ears were entrapped with heat. You downed the saliva clinging on to your throat. “Um, E-Excuse me?” You questioned with a stutter. “Alexander!” Eliza scored her husband. She flicked the back of her hand against his chest. “Why in the hell would you ask that? You’re making her uncomfortable.” She whispered loudly. Phillip sniggered with mouth clasped over his mouth from bursting. Alexander rolled his wood brown eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Phillip need to get out there with a more girls like (Y/N). She seems to have everything together! The other girls we have met barely make it one month with our boy.” Alexander said truthfully without a stutter of hesitation. “And they don’t seem to care about anything academic and respect wise.” He added. “Pa!” The Hamilton boy groaned, averting his eyes away from you and into his father’s eyes. His cheeks flushed. “Honey, stop embarrassing your son.” Mrs. Hamilton scolded again, she sighed. “I’m so sorry, honey.” Elizabeth apologized with a shy smile. Her smiling only enhancing as she spots something over your shoulder,“Alexander, I see Angelica with her husband! We have to go greet them.”Eliza said as she tried to tug her husband away from the two of you. “I’ll see you kids later.” Alexander Hamilton said as he follows his endearing wife. The heat on your face still sat on your face. “Sweet Jesus.” Philip muttered with a sigh and a shake of his head. You snickered,“Your parents are adorable, too bad it’s not generic.” You fired first as you stared at the two couple scamper away with their arms linked together. Their linked arms seems to stand out symbolically in their relation. They never seem to let go each other- like the links of the chain hitting at each other while they were being tugged on, but never shattering. A soft smile tugged at your lips. I kind want that, you thought to yourself. “Stop it, I’m not in the mood to play along for your entertainment.” The boy murmured, “Entertainment” seemed to stick out. He turned and left with heavy footsteps. You arched your eyebrows. You scuttled after the teenage boy. “Woah, what got your panties up in a twist?” You fired again with a smirk. “Stop it, (Y/N).” He warned as Phillip twisted body towards you. You took a step back, wobbling slightly, and raising up your hand defensively. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone, princess.” The hell is wrong with this boy? You questioned inside your head. Philip Hamilton seemed pretty pissy for what his dad gawked about. The younger Hamilton shook his head lightly, and glared at something above your head. He mouthed out words that weren’t readable. Phillip’s eyes were squinting and glaring at the corner of the crowd room. The only thing you could calculate was his irritable silent argument with the other person across the room. You glared at him with a bewildered shine, “The hell are you doing?” You interrogated as you were about twist around. “Dance with me.” He punctured you with shock with his order, which you assumed was originally a question. Your eyes widened and your heart tried to claw out of your chest. “Woah, what? Don’t we have to wait until marriage to do that?” You joked nervously. The orchestra began to fall softer as you were going to cursor yourself around to leave him and his grip. “Just dance with me.” He growled while his hands clipped onto your forearm. Warmth flooded into your core. That turned you on, didn’t it? Blushing at your own reaction, you shifted in your heels. You are so fucking messed up. “Why the fuck do I have to dance with you?” You glared with irritation. Wiggling off Philip’s strong hands from your forearm, you rolled your eyes. Philip scoffed, he entrapped his temples with the edge of your thumb, index, and middle. “My dad is making me dance with you as stupid as it sounds.” “Okay so? I could and careless about your situation with your pops. Not my problem, it’s yours.” “How about..how about I break the deal if you don’t.” He proposed. Deal? What deal- Right, the deal where he will keep off of your personal bubble. “You still are gonna break that deal despite it, Phil.” You said simply. “Just please dance with me, okay?” Philip Hamilton begged. His sap brown orbs shined underneath the rays of the chandelier. The glimmer in his eyes were absolutely stunning. You cringe inwardly; you are already stepping in his damn trap. “Can you stop looking at me like that?” You hissed. Confusion twisted his face,” Excuse me, what? I’m not looking at you in anyway.” The Hamilton boy defended himself. “Never mind.” You huffed. “Honey!” You shoulders scrunched together,“Jesus Christ, mom!” You squeaked. Spinning around to meet your mom with a plate of appetizers in one hand. You glared after her,“I’m not sorry,” Your mom laughed. “Ah, Phillip it’s good to see you! You look great in your suit. Charming!” She complimented and greeted. “Thank you, Mrs. Manning.” Phillip shyly thanked. “Now, what are you guys talking about? Is my daughter treating you decently?” ‘Mrs. Manning’ questioned with a teasing nip at the last question. “She’s treating me like she treats everyone else!” Phillip Hamilton with a subtle harsh town at the edge of it, you only hearing it. “I was just asking to come dance with.” He added. “Sly mother fucker.” You muttered underneath your breath. “(Y/N)! That sounds like fun!” Your mom cooed. “Why don’t you dance with this young man?” She questioned. “I don’t-” “Come on, (Y/N). Just once, okay?” You mom pleaded. “What about never?” You retorted. “(Y/N), I will drag you to these events every time they are hosting one and you have to dance with Phillip everytime.” She threatened. “Mom, no-” “(Y/N), do it or else.” Your mother fought back with imitating cold glare. “Fine.” You huffed in defeat. The orchestra seem to burst with elegant music. “Thank you.” He sighed out as he smiled towards your mother. “No problem, Phillip. Take care of my daughter!” She chirped as she wander off with a pallet of food in her hand. You moaned,” God dammit.”

You were in the center of the room. You glared at polished floor with shy glint. Phillip hesitantly glided his hand on the indent of your waist. His palms stopped over lower back. You ingested some saliva nervously; his musk becoming your air. Petals of heat scattered all over face while he pulled you closer. Your shoulders were tensed while his hand grasped on for your right hand. Your free hand was placed onto his forearm as you lifted your intertwined hand. The violin and piano stood out while the music softly spun around the room. The other instruments tailed behind with a soft step. Everyone danced with their partner. You hesitantly took a step. Click. Click. Your heels tapped against the wooden floor. The two you both swayed uncomfortably. Your face was flushed as you felt the breath of Phillip feather against your face. You watched as both of your feet hesitantly move back and forth. “Yo, (Y/N),” Phillip broke the ice. Your eyes still pinned on to the floor. “Are my parents watching?” Philip asked. You looked over to the side, glaring at the crowd. You spotted the Hamiltons watching the two of you, Eliza waved with a grin. You waved back at her with a smile tugging at your mouth, “Yeah, there watching us.” You whispered as you stepped back while he stepped foreword. It was silent for a moment, an awkward feeling entrapped in your movements. “Thank you.” Phillip breathed out. “For what?” You asked as you dragged your head up to look him in his soft sap eyes. “Dancing with me.” He stated. “I would say no problem, but I’m not sure why you’re thanking me.” You said. “I am going to kick your ass for convincing my mom, so think again.” “Well, you got me out of my mother’s ranting and I think I’m a little scared.” Philip stepped back a little. “Yeah, you should.” You chuckled, it was silent for a moment. ”You and your dad seem close.” You randomly spilled out. The boy laughed lightly and shook his head,“How could you tell?” Hamilton’s brow arch at your statement with a small smirk. “You talk about him a lot. You basically worship the ground he walks on.” You answered. “You are his number one fan.” Chuckling as you both awkwardly danced to the rhythm. “Ironically,” The young Hamilton boy began. “My dad works a lot and barely spends time with mom, my sister, and I. He’s always typing away on his damn computer, and his four course meal is coffee. It sucks to be the son of a politician.” He murmurs the last sentence. “It’s always work, work, work, work, and no time for family.” You could feel the dread drop like lead. You licked your lips nervously, unaware of Phillip’s eyes trained on them. “That does suck.” You commented. “My dad is not even here.” “What?” “He passed when I was a tot.” You muttered. Your eyes dropped to the floor. “I’ve never actually learned a lot about him. All my mama said was he was courageous and energetic man. He loved my mother and me, and kept us close.” You shared. “I guess both of fathers aren’t exactly here in our lives, huh?” You looked up at him,”In a way, yeah.” You shrugged with a grin tugged on your lips. “Cheers to us being children without fathers!” He exclaims louder than usual with a sarcastic edge. The guest around glared at him; the sharp, irritated looks poked out a sheepish grin from Philip. “Cheers.” You say with your inside voice. A smirk was etched on your face. “Hey, next time use you three inch voice, kid.” You tease. He gave you a sarcastic chuckle,”Very funny.” “I know I am.” You sass back. “I could write a whole sit com.” “Better than the 90s series, “Friends”?” Phillip smiled with laughter held behind it. “Hell no, never, but I can write better than you, Phil.” “Hah! I wrote a poem!” “Oh, wow.” You gasped, “A poem. I’m shivering.” “I wrote one for my dad. It was stupid.” “Aw, that’s adowable.” You taunted. Purposely replacing the ‘r’ with a ‘w’- like a toddler learning how to red or restroom. “Come on show me your poetry, Shakespeare!” You begged while you chortled. “I’m not going to say that stupid shit that I made when I was nine.” He argues. “Jesus, you were nine? Now, that’s gold.” You cooed. Pinching his cheek (like how your grandmother did it, you wrinkled your nose mockingly. Phillip flicked your hand away from your cheek,“Ah, shut up.” A grin tugs on his lips. “You like my teasing.”

By the time the song ends, you and Phillip seem to get along quite well. You both were scampering outside on the patio. The fall air scraping your legs, you giggled as Philip had told his childhood story. The city seemed so far away, and the air was clean and refreshing. The music transformed into a wave of jazz music. The crowd began to shrink by a small amount as they head inside. “Philip you aren’t as bad as I thought you were.” You confess. “Really?” “Don’t make me say it again, Hamilton.” You warned jokingly. “I’m not relating my damn words.” Philip stepped back with his hand in front of him, “I won’t push it, Manning.” “Last name isn’t Manning.” You corrected. “Whatever, Manning.” “Still isn’t Manning.” Philip Hamilton snickered. The freckles on his face seem to emphasize at you, and you thought they symbolize as constellations. You absolutely adore them. Your heart stopped, Did I think that? God, no.. You angrily thought to yourself. You still didn’t trust the Hamilton boy. You nervously licked your lips. “Yo, Manning, you doing okay? You look kind of pale.” “I’m alright, just kind of cold.” You lied. “My last name isn’t Manning.” You added at the end. Philip ignored you,“You sure, Manning? You seem more pale than normal.” “ ‘m alright, Hamilton.” You protested with him as he wrapped his arm around you. He squished his body against yours. Flushing, you wiggled out of his grip. You were so uncomfortable, so confused with yourself. Your feeling towards this boy felt like a cinder block was crushing you. “Philip, I’m fine!” You exasperated as you piston away from the boy. “Jeez, calm down.” He murmured. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” You fibbed at the boy as you shifted on the balls of your seat. It was silent for minutes. The night sky reflected the sap brown eyes. His cheeks were chalked with red from the cold. “It’s alright.” It was quiet. The crickets sang with the orchestra. You could imagine the people dancing while people ate and gawk. You wished that you were there. “Seriously, I’m worried about you. “Why are you worried about me?” You hissed. “You look sick! I don’t want you to be ill!” Philip exasperated. “Sorry, I was just concern for you as a friend!” He added. “I’m sorry when have we been friends?” You snapped. “I d-don’t know!” He sputtered. “I’m not your friend! We had conversation and got along, but that didn’t make you my fucking friend.” You growled. “Hey, I’m just worried!” “And hey! I’m just pale and there is no need to worry about me!” “Why are you over-reacting?” You ignored his question. Stress, puzzled thoughts, and irritation had twisted in your gut aggressively. “Philip, why are you concerned for me? Why? I’ve been an asshole to you from the start. You’ve been a fucking annoying man-whore! Just leave me be-” “Shut up! Shut your damn mouth!” He exasperated. Philip kissed you.

Tagged readers: @pearltheartist

IM ON MOBILE I HAVE TO EDIT ON COMPUTER. Rip hope you enjoy and reblog loves

[mebeingserious]

(c.) End 2012 - Early 2013

- - #1

#Based On A You Story. Blinking cursor.

Peep my Doogie Howser blue screen. Peep my blue light. No bloc festivities, streamers, or tails to pin anything on. Pin that shit on yourself, B. Take responsibility.

“Pin The Tail” had a Max B verse on the original. Do with that knowledge what you will if what you will do is reimburse me for my strong miscellany-fact-brain game. I refined it through the arthritis of those on my personal Mt. Rushmore.

I’m unknowable, really. You should get to un-know me.

And it was an inside job, btw. Egged on by the peanut gallery, flipped the switch, gave you a parachute and some mumble-mumble about how the chlorophyll’s gonna be stunning.

I’m just another human cat, word to Grass Green. Don’t treat me like the grassy knoll. Leave them stones turnt all the way down.

But that “you” isn’t you, that’s you’s on you’s on you’s. UUU, if you will. Gotta not have it.

New swatch alert. Here. Peep the texture and the hues. That’s the interior.

Cam’ron in a Utah Jazz throwback staring back at me through a phone’s reflection. [||]. You right, you right.

Captain Quirk but the Captain Crunch Dog at the same damn time. Pretend it’s two months ago, though.

Your last.fm recent plays leave you vulnerable, if you think about it. I thought about it.

I need to remind myself I don’t do this for the little or the big dunns. Everyone needs to get their Lex Luger on from time to time. B.Y. Before Yokozuna.

So I say that to say this: “Can’t call it, might spoil it”

Performing tune-ups with some VBRs and possibly, 192s. You can only crash so many planes before you start frisking yourself in the airport.

Further and farther are in full effect. But then I remember “that’s when the money starts running” and Stoicism, and put it in hands I once knocked down.

- - #2

Spot ‘em, got ‘em. I got dirt on you, doggie.

But God made dirt and dirt bust your ass.

Or my ass. I know too much. Internal Spy vs. Spy.

I saw those stars. Had my radars up. Tangible air.

One minute it’s in the constellations, the next sixty-seconds it’s a “Superthug” if.

Hella.

No, not you. The other. But you? You’re putting together a 150-piece in the dark.

Me? S.O.L. S.O.S. But I’m like Private Ryan. So you can save that.

Oh wait, I forgot that motherfucker survived.

Anyways, haardships.

My window’s been closed but at least I have a window. But it’s lowkey amazing that a window is even a thing.

I just did what Game did with the coaching of the fat producer on ironing Dickies. But you don’t hear me, doe.

Do you hear me, doe? This is the Gawd.

He doesn’t take requests but he’ll play me, though.

But really, I did that. Sorta like what Kane said on “The Symphony.”

Anyways, indecision.

He who hesitates in peace is even worse.

The pyramids didn’t get built by throwing stones or sitting on them. But I fucked up when I entertained the E.T. theory.

I’m the man now, dog. But really, without the seven you’re not Sean Connery. You’re just…

Anyways, alternate universes. That exist in shared thought bubbles.

But that’s the only place they ever existed, nah?

But let’s thought experiment. Does that outcome satisfy?

Or is it just better than hearing a single echo against drywall?

I can give you advice on farther but my track record is a stumble out the blocks paired with a horizontal starting gun, finished off with a somersault. 1.0 - 1.0 - 1.0

Got gotted and spotted.

Need is whatever you think it is.

But try to take my arm and leg and I might be that shoe with the band between the big toe.

You can have a symphony composed of c-notes in that porcelain but if you don’t embrace that internal Hammer … well. Basslines don’t come across well in sign.

You can go on and be Big L’s Rocafella debut, but you don’t know voodoo.

But tangible is good. I mean, Tough Luv holds up pretty well eight years later.

I guess I misunderstood that originally. Or I tried to understand too soon. He was right when he said “…or rather me.”

- - #3

The last verse on “Pyramids” without the sonic context.

Strikes Back. In the Empire. They say it’s their favorite flick.

Swore my hand waved to me as it fell, in that “Hi, Hater” motion.

Took off that mask and it was a mirror. No disrespect but there’s truth to it.

Anton Chigurh in the guidance counselor’s office basically saying “heads or tails.”

Saw it with the old man. In the alt. section of the universe it was Batman Returns.

Trying to lucid dream about the Northwest in 1996, but I’m better off sleeping. And peeping those trees with the date emblazoned in a reddish orange beneath their stumps.

Subsidized Napoleon complex had me fighting on the wrong side. Got did like Waterloo.

Manila envelopes addressed to that British newspaper. Don’t you know this is the Empire?

Telepathy returned to sender.

Heard “boo” from that pocket-sized frame.

But ghosts only come for your wig when you turn your back.

“Whoa” ain’t me, that’s Black Rob.

Speaking of that song…

Come to terms with endearment.

You chose the ball and you joined me in breadth.

Another one chewing dead skin, dirt particles and textile fibers.

Carly Simon. Bet.

What came first, the wound or the egg that provided the shells that were stuck in the soles?

South West here like Northern OH. Something something “talent.”

Indecisive travel agent that forgot to build a plane.

I saw the white plates, the blue plates, and now they’re yellow. i.e. I’ve seen the Empire crumble.

Let an ocean talk for me.

What the fuck is portamento? Not worth it.

Waking up to a foreign vocabulary test. Appealing. No comprende.

Opted-in because I was loyal to the wrong things. Minus the fuckboy-isms.

He was the Pookie of venlafaxine.

Caesar: Judas.

Conversational anesthesia. Was on that Freud shit.

Liked the yellow yoshi that stomped and the one with wings.

And you can tell a lot about a man by how he uses a warp whistle. Button on the VCR.

Meant to hear Tiến Quân Ca in person but couldn’t. If he saw the inland, I wouldn’t.

Lucas Arts revisionist tip. Script = flipped. And now…

Telling the emperor “We don’t need to see all that.” I’ll say it.

And maybe worth it. But no capitulation. The sign fixed.

- Carly.

“You, Me, Him and Her” gets played twice.

The first one’s near Luxor, prolly.

Gut snitched.

Us couldn’t stop dreaming, then I couldn’t get to sleep. Both.

“I fuck around and have you sleeping underneath something”

But that last verse, though.

- - #4

Pop culture hustling and cocaine references are the way to my heart. My heart is sullen and abandoned; full of un-shatterable Pyrex-brand measuring cups.

Or is it. Racially ambiguous inquisition. Internal. In-terminal, I keep ticking. So, maybe occupied.

Don’t knock it. I’m taking out this time. To compose choppy sentences that stop before they start because I’m so non-fiction I might call myself Tumblr Game Tom Wolfe.

Looking back, YN really inspired me with his Letters From The Editor. But nah to that “Ha!”

Flirting with disaster because she sent me a flick. Y’all are too literal. Down to the ‘I’m so crazy.’

Meanings on top of meanings. Princess and the Pea. That now archaic Jay-Z and Kanye interplay. References need a new hard drive. They’re making that grindin’, too busy to stay up-to-date sound.

I’m not looking at your dues, I’m looking past you. Why are ghosts see-through but you can’t see through what you can see.

Peter Piper was too fucking picky. End of story. Citing Antwan Patton in MLA style. If you want the references, you gotta pay for this. I accept Juelz. Pay the pause forward.

Subtle is my subtitle. You can read or watch. An internet quiz will tell you what that means for you and your personality.

John on the run eating. But wasn’t gaining.

Acting like shenanigans in loosie, but there was no explaining.

No, no, no. I’m not you, rapper.

Jesus H. Pylori. The church of disrupted insulin function and latter day faints.

Glue where the flex be. Vampires that never heard about the smallpox blankets. Paul’s Boutique sample count. Dust, brother. Trying not to bite down.

That admittance, and the small BIC. Alluhdat.

Three letters. Now I feel alluhdat.

Maybe knowing in retrospect is the win. Like when they extend those legs and and hold their hands in a state-enforced half-hearted semi-prayer position saying “I hope this provides closure for your family.”

A & B convos. Split-tests. More like a two and eight.

Good things surface for those that hold elevators. Or something.

Lost the top about fitty-leven times. No lojack. Find it, then repeat. Dementia. Kojack.

No lolli. Point the finger, no Rollie. No handle, no bars. Just folly.

Was on that “If I die, I die.” Life Game Ivan Drago.

Try to be a fatalist. Unexciting Mortal Kombat finishers.

Marcus Aurelius darts onto the screen to kill the opponent with mercy.

No hip hop genius to help you. Y’all Nah Right sidebar. Newsy. Your quotient can’t save thee. Or thou. Or you. Let’s say you.

Because I’m like Jason Bourne asking himself about that one birthday party when he was an age that gets spelled out by the Associated Press. Hope unseen sequels don’t kill my simile.

We’re all trying to live facsimile’s meaning if you said it quick. Gender neutral, though.

Don’t, doe.

Because reflection requires dedication. Three’s ain’t always charming. There’s precedent. See the millionaire trying to kickflip.

I’m not a walking version of the back of the teacher’s edition history/sociology/psychology combo cost-saving textbook.

Slight of hand. Converse with it.

Phonte’s monologues on the last two from Get Back.

That’s the point. Nipsey Russell.

[talldarknsexy]

Escapades in Egypt

After a night on the ferry we docked at the port in Aswan. We were just adjacent of the famous high dam that holds back lake Aswan from the Lower Nile and prevents seasonal flooding. A ferrymen agreed that I should stage my bike with the rest of the cargo. It was on the top deck anyways and I didn't want to have to follow after the 200 other people. So, I placed my bike next to some stuff, but this upset some of the otherwise friendly Sudanese mamas who then started yelling at me. The ferryman and a few others came to my defense which just aggravated them even more. The ferryman offered to move my bike and in the confusion knocked over their coffee pot straight onto their sleeping mat without noticing. Upon seeing this, they started screaming at me as I was now wheeling my bike away from the scene. Anyways, I shimmied my bike back to the top deck, said goodbyes to my Sudanese ferry buddies, and headed through customs where an Egyptian official would get frustrated with my broken zippers and literally rip apart my tool bag. "What this???" He questioned about my patch kit. "Clearly, you're not a golfer... It's a patch kit." From the dock, I rode just 15km to the city of Aswan and was greeted by many a "Welcome to Egypt!" The last 2km however, I took a shortcut that went through the town's dumping grounds. A dystopian scene with piles of garbage still burning, hazy with smoke, and growling with packs of wild dogs lurking around. Just a few blocks away, emerged David's hostel. He opened it up 3 years ago and runs little profit but his incentive was to perfect his English. He had done this already, as it was expert level, but still failed to pass Australia's English entrance visa exam. I started to wonder if I would be able to, personally. This is an extra requirement for Arabic countries and even though David is of the 10% Christian Coptic minority, the same bias applies. Anyways, he's since given up on Australia and runs the hostel (out of his basement) with a true passion I've seldom seen. It was a nice place and had wifi and clean tap water, both of which I hadn't experienced from a hostel in many months. That and, not to mention, I had access to supermarkets and ATMs again after Sudan. I met an Israeli guy there, Amir. This was unusual, because outside of the Sinai, Israeli backpackers are almost unheard of in Egypt. I went out that night with him and another Dutch fella. David dropped us off in town and we went to an amazing museum- history, artifacts, artwork, mummies, the works... Then grabbed some food and scoured the riverfront for a place that served alcohol. And after over a month, I finally had a beer. Amir had expressed some interest in the biking, and as always, I'd told him anyone is welcome to join. Except unlike all the others... Amir actually did. We went to the market with David the next day and picked one out from the China bike shop in town for $70. We scrounged some China parts from the market: mirror, tube, racks, bell, and a red $4 child's helmet. We grabbed some empty food bins and zip ties and rigged him some hobolo panniers. He'd already been carrying camping and cooking gear, so we slapped everything together quickly. There was no need to come up with a cheesy nickname for the bike as it was already labeled the "Flying Pigeon." The Flying Pigeon was washed in neon green and fake chrome- she was glorious... Amir had gone from backpacker to cycle tourist for less than $100 and under 24hrs. We set off the next day for the Flying Pigeon's native voyage. She and Amir did well. And I had not only riding company, but an Arabic translator, as Amir spoke some. That day we visited an enormous temple which we had almost entirely to ourselves. Back on the road, some kids had hurled rocks at us. Amir had surely had similar experiences in Israel as he wasn't phased in the slightest and didn't even so much as turn his head. We ate liver sandwiches for lunch, got invited for tea with some elders, and then camped by the Nile and took a dip at sunset. The next day, we rode off and stopped again midday for lunch and another temple visit, this one was in impeccable condition, but had much more visitors as the Nile cruise boats stopped here. Here, the fat waddling tourists de-board the luxury Nile ferries only to be taken to the temples in horse drawn chariots. Amir and I watched one throw an egyptian note down from a chariot down to a "begging" child. "Becom?" I asked, and the kid flashed me a $20egp note. "Sweets?" I asked. To which he smiled and nodded. But, the temples themselves were amazing. Amir was fairly versed in Egyptian mythology and was able to point out the various gods and some of the stories. We marveled around and contemplated the feasibility of construction and the complexity of their religious beliefs, both dating back almost four thousand years. Before leaving town, we stopped at a China bike shop to get Amir a new rear tire which had almost quit in only about 100km. The shopkeeper insisted we invest an extra dollar in a different looking tire. "Hatha afdal?" I asked. "Yees! Made in Indeea!" He happily exclaimed. Now, with Amir's Arabic, police checkpoints had been a breeze, but I'd warned him that there might come a time when that would change. And rightfully so, as it soon did. We got held up at one and Amir insisted with them that we did not need an escort. The captain would just reply that he's Egyptian and it is his duty to protect us. So, off we rode with a police truck behind us and 5 armed men. They chugged behind us that afternoon and wouldn't allow us to stop and honked at any kids that tried to high five us. And after a lot of argument on where we could stay that night, we ended camped out back a police station. The next day we reached Luxor. We, being us two cyclists and the different crew of 6 police behind. We rolled up and checked into the wrong hostel, but with the same name. Something we didn't realize until a few days later. Anyways, we spent the 2-3 days exploring temples, eating ridiculously good and inexpensive food (sometimes possibly pigeon,) and did a Nile cruise with some friends. In the end, Amir decided to ditch the bike before leaving Luxor. He was a little fed up with police and with how it would soon unfold, I certainly can't blame him. He got lucky though and sold the Flying Pidgeon to "Bob the Balloon Man" who ran a hot air balloon business and lived next door to the hostel. So, most cyclists have police escort for maybe half of Egypt. Mine was a little excessive. But, a combination of my poor Arabic, my American passport, and me traveling solo may have exasperated things. About 50km outside of Luxor, after waiting another half hour at yet another police checkpoint, they had me take an unexpected turn. Soon, I found myself on the remote desert highway, but with the police still chugging behind me. This road would be great for cycling except for the fact that I had zero food and had no idea were I was staying. Truthfully, the police probably had no idea either, they just want to drive you to the next checkpoint so they can finish their shift. It was a long, 160km day that ended with a hard climb that came out of nowhere. This I didn't finish until well into the dark and cold. But, luckily the fellas at the ambulance post I stayed at were pretty hilarious and helped to cheer me back up. The following day was even worse, however, it was actually quite cold and the police had me do ~120km. By the end of it I was experiencing some pretty bad knee pain and was pedaling with only one foot. It was another night staying with an ambulance crew and we shared some food together. I was pretty defeated, however and worried about my knee. I was woken up around midnight by a police officer who came in to verify I was there. I woke up around 3:30am and at the upon agreed upon time of 5am, was told to wait another hour until 6am so the officer could go back to sleep. After 30km of pedaling with one leg, I reached another checkpoint. Here, I'd been told I wouldn't need escorts... At least for a while until outside of Cairo. This clearly wasn't the case for me though. I'd explained it many times in broken Arabic and English. It was a desert with nothing... Not even a blade of grass lives out here. And I was getting sick and injured trying to follow their checkpoint regiment. I had one of my ambulance buddies who showed up there help explain the lack of need. He did a great job, but they just insisted on saying it was for my safety. It almost worked, but they just tailed behind me a half kilometer, pretending not to be there. Once, a young couple in a sedan with a bike rack pulled over to I believe offer me a bottle of water. The police truck sped up, pulled over in front of me, and ushered them away. Mid afternoon I was pretty broken. Struggling to pedal with one, now very fatigued leg. The wind picked up and I must have been doing about 5km/h because a policeman got out to jog past me. I pulled into a rest stop and laid down just praying that when I opened my eyes, the police would be gone. Instead, another police car showed up and there must have been about 8 or so policemen altogether. I'd had enough, and for the 100th time, loudly voiced my opinion that they were wasting there time. At one point, the officer called his cousin to help translate. He finally got the message and told me "Okay, continue as you like." I was incredulous, but he insisted and I thanked him, apologized, and gave him a hug. They sped off, but sure enough, I spotted them parked up the road about a kilometer. I said fuck it. Pulled off the road and camped behind a dune, just 500m from where they left me. It was a splendid night camped alone, resting my knee. But unfortunately, it was still painful in the morning. I rode about 20km to a petrol station and filled up on snacks. The guys there were super helpful, but I saw one suspiciously ran off to an ambulance post nearby, so I took off. Sure enough, about 30 mins later, I was surrounded by police. They either arrested me or "saved me" depending on who you ask. Apparently they had the entire region's police force looking for me. I was approached first by a 3 star officer so fat he was out of breath stepping out of his truck. He took my passport and made some frantic calls. The two petty officers with him wanted to know how I was able to survive a night in the cold. They then loaded my bike onto the truck and we sped off to a police control checkpoint. I wasn't really sure if I was being arrested of not. In short, I was there for the next 4-5 hours. The fat officer and his peers were on the phone half the time and all the other, lower ranking officers wanted to hang out, get me food and drinks, and take selfies. I wasn't cuffed or anything, but at one point I did step out of the cab to grab something from my bike and was met by several jumpy officers. We started to drive off twice but officer Mohammed Fatasfuck would receive a call and we'd turn around. It was finally night when we drove to Al Minya. We parked, unloaded the bike and I was ushered into a tourist police office that was something out of an 80's KGB headquarters. I was brought into an office where I met with another officer Mohammed and later his boss, officer Mohammed. They ordered three mango drinks and as nice as they were, I made sure That I was the last to sip mine. We talked for a while and they were incredulous that I'd spent the night sleeping in the desert. Terrorists, snakes, foxes, and desert lions were among their chief concerns. The latter of which haven't even existed for several decades. Anyways, Mohammed and Mohammed assured me under no uncertain terms that I wasn't doing anymore cycling in Egypt. They'd initially asked was how much I could afford for a travel company to orchestrate the remainder of my trip. So, they weren't exactly reassured at my plans to stay in an unnamed hostel in Cairo and then bus to Israel or Jordan. They took it upon themselves to organize it for me at no cost. They made some calls and arranged a hotel that night, a bus the next day, and a hotel for the first night in Giza. After that, they claimed, I was free to do as I liked- or so was their claim. I didn't get to the hotel until around 11pm. It was nice, but if I were ever to have a room bugged with cameras, this would have been it. The next day I was escorted by flatbed pick to the bus station and after the bus, again to the hotel. The hotel was actually more of a resort... A FIVE STAR resort as was published there. They had no reservation in my name. The manager was very agitated with me. The police escort didn't want to get involved but called up the rank to a General Mohammed. About 2 minutes later the front desk's phone rang. The manager (Also Mohammed) went white in the face, hung up, and checked me in with profuse apologies. I have no idea what exactly was said over the phone, but can only imagine the threats that were made by General Mohammed of the Tourist Police. Anyways, I was told that I wouldn't be leaving the premises until checkout the next day. So, basically was under resort arrest with an officer positioned in the lobby. This place was fucking unreal though and my suite was the size of an apartment. I'm sure I couldn't afford anything off the menu, so rationed the leftover biscuits and crackers that I'd stocked from the petrol station and filtered the tap water. This I did, ironically, on my private balcony overlooking the crescent pool. I also was pretty numb and reflective. Here I was, on my balcony in a 5 star resort, that I did not pay for, with a personal bodyguard out front. Not only did I not deserve this, but I was told the two officers I'd evaded both lost a year's salary. Their account was much different than mine, but I'd asked the Mohammeds to go easier on them if they had a say. The next morning there was a small breakfast. Just kidding. There was a LOT of breakfast. I ate enough for a week. I had thought that morning I would be free, at least per what one of the Mohammeds had originally told me. Certainly not the case though. So, an officer was waiting out front with a flatbed. The officer's name was... Well, it was Hani. We drove to the tourist district of Giza where I thought I would be checking into a hostel. But first, General Mohammed wanted to meet with me. After some waiting and joking around with Hani (as he at least recognized how ridiculous this was) he ushered me through the security and ticket booth. And all of sudden I was facing the pyramids. Not at all how I'd anticipated it... But their presence was immense and the brief experience, surreal. Two military jeeps pulled up and 4 generals in suits came out. I met General Mohammed who spoke great English and shook hands with his peers. They drank tea, discussed amongst each other, and Mohammed asked about my travel plans which were to leave Egypt ASAP because there was clearly no end to this police attention. At the end of their discussion, Mohammed expressed their relief: "they think you look almost Egyptian" he said. After this was resolved, Hani and I headed to a hostel nearby. There was no one at reception and Hani got a call from Mohammed that a hotel was sorted. In the end, I handed over an $11 note for what otherwise must have been a $100 hotel. Hani took off and I was put in the hands of Daii, who would be my babysitter for the next two days... (A babysitter dressed in a full suit and armed with a tech-9.) He slept in the hotel lobby and we'd take turns buying each other meals. He at least had a sense of humor, like Hani and realized the ridiculousness of the situation. This came in handy especially when I went back to visit the pyramids. We were in tourist central, but luckily I had Daii to keep me safe! At least the camel handlers heckled me less as I was a VIP with a personal bodyguard. I took us off into the desert to the alignment point where you can see all the great pyramids in view. I felt a little bad that Daii was dusting up his nice leather shoes. He also had to stop to sit on a rock every few minutes to catch his breath. Sometimes he'd even light up another cigarette. "Mish Tammam" I'd say: not good. To which he'd smile and laugh. Well worth the trek though. There were few people around and away from the noisy and crowded city, you can appreciate the serenity of the desert, and observe the massive scale of these ancient pyramids still towering over the very modern, sprawling city. The next day I would take a bus from Cairo to the Taba border. Daii was instructed to follow me the entire way until I got stamped at immigration. We rode over the Suez Canal and through the surreal Sinai desert. The actual border crossing was an unceremonious end to my journey on the African continent. But I'd like to remember the highlight of Egypt as looking out at the pyramids. Old and new societies juxtaposed against one another, with my police friend Dai next to me. Out of breath, and smoking another cigarette.

[tslasvegas]

Episode 2: “I am typically regarded as a joke” - Livingston

Anyways... rip Colin, no idea who that was.. obviously Okay well I think we are out of the first impressions stage of this game and I think I've done an okay job of not making a strong impression one way or another, except to DeNara who I've been talking to most consistently since the start of this game. Except for today lmfao I was NOT active on purpose but I'll try to get to that in this confessional. I saw that the tribe went on a call so I decided to join and chit-chat with the girlies of this tribe and I've gotta say.. I'm lowkey disappointed to learn that despite being a returning player, everybody else on the tribe is friends with each other. Aside from Mo it sounds like they all know each other one way or another and I'm kinda left out of that connection. Even though they might not all be friends, it is a bit uncomfortable to be in a call with people where you know NOTHING they're talking about and you're not catching any of the jokes or references to other games. Also, I noticed that the personalities kinda blended together and these aren't people that I'd get along with in other orgs I play, so.. oops. One highlight of the call was that Nik was talking about Rachael and they were saying that Rachael got rid of them, I believe. Basically just talking about how they view Rachael differently because of that I guess? I was kind of in and out during that. But then DeNara posted IN THE TRIBE CHAT when it was just us three plus Kailyn on the call that Nik was spilling tea... and it was just. so. cringe. Idk if Nik or Kailyn noticed and the fact that everyone else was acting so nonchalant makes me think I missed something but either way I was on mute howling bc of second-hand embarrassment. As far as my current position, I do feel a bit comfortable with where I'm at because although I AM uncomfortable being left out of the friend group, normally I thrive early game when I get underestimated. I'm trying to just not make waves and stick to whatever plans come my way and hopefully people don't view me as a threat. Every time I'd leave and rejoin the call everybody was talking about totally normal IRL stuff so it doesn't seem like people are playing the game yet, but last round I did make a bit of an alliance with DeNara for the time being. Despite feeling like an outsider, I'm going to just continue to look at the positives of every situation because as a pessimistic person by nature, I'm inclined to feel doomed in any scenario. But this is my redemption season. I'm not here to get tenth place, I'm here to win and this season will prove itself to be an uphill battle and I'm just getting started. Tumblr Survivor has always felt like the story of Sisyphus and the Boulder to me. Look into the deeper meaning of the story and I promise a lot of the details do kind of relate to me and my character throughout my run in this community, but the general idea is that I've been tasked with a chore of having to push this heavy boulder up a neverending mountain in Hell. As a returning player, I've faced a lot of hardship when I could've just gotten the outcome I want the first time, and each return to Tumblr Survivor, I've pretty much done worse and worse since then. I'm ready to finally push that fucking boulder out of the underworld and bring myself back to the playing field I deserve to be on. For now, I'm just going to keep pushing.

So glad we won that first immunity. Why am I not surprise to see a unanimous vote for the first tribal. Even a self vote.... hopefully we win again today 

I’m already over this tribe. Keegan and Liv are the only fun ones to talk to, Joey I think tries but also doesn’t. Also low key hoping people don’t know too much about Svalbard cause if people know about Rachael and I being close that could be a problem. I’m not letting my work schedule get in the way of my activity, but it’s a bad sign to me when I’m of the most active people on the tribe. I should be the baseline, not the gold standard

I think our Tribe is a bit laid back. Not much interaction, not really that engaging. I hope Jake and Kevin did a good job at the challenge, I don't want to go to Tribal again. The typhoon here passed, I hope Tribal passes too!

Woo we got out the main inactive person. Although really my entire tribe is quiet and lowkey inactive, but Jake and I talk a lot in PMs which is good. Also Stephen is doing his best with timezones so I know he wants to play bc he's always on when he is able to be on. The next biggest inactive person on the tribe is Kevin, but he instantly volunteered to do the challenge so yay I guess. If we lose though, he is still an option to go in my mind. I'm not trying to make too much of a plan because we could win this challenge and then I'm going to try to open the vault because if we come in first I will have 10 chips. But I still need to figure out if it costs 10 chips to open the vault or if you're just not allowed to look at it until you have 10 chips.

You want a confessional, well here it is. Nothing has happened. To be honest, I’ve barely even spoken to anyone today. Or yesterday for that matter. It’s also been quiet in tribe chat.

I finally got my tribe on a call. Most of them joined in, at least for a little bit so that was nice. The only person that wasn't on call was Ben, which kind of paints him as the outsider of the tribe right now. 

...five seconds later

I want to get to know Mo better and maybe set up some sort of alliance with them, but they are so spotty with when they are on, it is difficult to keep a conversation going. I am not chill enough for this game yet lol.

ok. so like that's annoying. that challenge was supposed to be fun but jake is making a big stink. and like yeah i'm mad too but like it's over and it's just a game it's not like actual money lol. also, i don't really care if we go to tribal. makes you stronger. whatever. i'm sure he's a nice person but like i think he's just mad he lost. whatevs. 

Nik and Rachael did our challenge and won. Thank goodness it wasn't me! What my tribe will soon come to realize is I am basically useless at challenges. Rip me.

...five seconds later

Yay! Mo finally asked if I wanted to work together! Took them long enough ;-) jkjk I am excited to finally start playing this game

So after a heated and undeserved loss - sorry Dan I know we talked about it but I'm sticking to my guns - I start packing my bags. All of a sudden Stephen wants to target John, John wants to target Timmy; and nobody is throwing my name out there... Like... Hello? I just got into a public fight with production, shouldn't I be target number one? And now, Xavier and I are the swing votes... How the hell did the worst Tumblr Survivor Player and a 45 Year old man end up stuck in the middle? What the hell even is this season?

WE LOST AGAIN. So now which alliance to choose?! 

I can't believe this round. I should be the target, why - why am I not the target? I lost the challenge. I yelled at production. I am the easiest vote, but nobody is voting me! What is happening?? Timmy and Stephen made an alliance chat with Xavier and I to vote John. John and Kevin are working together to vote Timmy. Xavier says - "Jake tell me what to do!" Timmy and John are both telling me everything the other one is saying to each other, and it's amazing. I have no idea how Xavier and I are voting tonight. On one hand, you have Stephen and Timmy who seem like a really strong duo. But Stephen trusts me a lot, and if I vote out his closest ally than I'll go down that list - which could be trouble in case of the inevitable swap. John is MY closest ally, but if we vote him out the team is much more united. Do I play for ME or do I play for WE? I'm 95% sure the vote is going to be 4-2, and people are going to be blindsided.

“Theres three tribes! Means we’re less likely to have back to back tribals” -_- sure jan. So we lost again, blergh, looked like an annoying challenge. The tribe is still pretty muted, who knows whether they’re voting for me or not. I made a 4-man alliance with Timmy Jake and Xavier, which i do want, but we’ll have to see if everyone is legit. The two bad possibilities are if everyone is actually voting me for various reasons (timezone, round one oopsie, etc.) or if the real vote is jake for arguing with dan. idk, time will tell. From my POV the vote is John, pretty randomly just based on the fact of who competed in the challenge.

Hiiiiiii So I am very excited to be back in the game again. I very much enjoy my original tribe especially Andrew. We already have a Pennsylvania alliance with Stephanie and I think that that is good groundwork to have moving forward should we ever lose a challenge we already have three that are tight in at seven so if we hear anything about any of them targeting us we can do something about it. I like Livingston a lot and Joey but I can’t tell if Joey is 14 years old or not and that kind of bothers me. I am v excited to get with Kevin and see where me him and Andrew can go 

Winning is great, but we need to lose the next one or it’s gonna be a weird spot if the first swap is at 18, although it is very possible that it’s at 16. I don’t want to go into a swap with all the agency being with Luxor, or us having the most players because in both cases we get painted as the targets. Bad news all around

I have yet to confess but here goes! I feel very good on my tribe. We seem to be doing fairly well at comps so far and I would love to continue to miss Tribal as much as humanly possible. I have talked to everyone on my tribe in some capacity but I am not trying to be the one to initiate like alliances and shit before we even have to attend tribal. I just wanna be chill and lay low while also being a good member of the tribe whom people like. Keegan and I have a mutual agreement to make sure each other gets far. I got first boot in my last game and he has never made single digits here in Tumblr Survivor so let's change that. One fear with working with Keegan is that he knows how I play. I played his game, Forest of Horrors, and got rocked out at the Final 7. Keegan has since told me that I was runner up for Player of the Season. I am typically regarded as a joke in this community but Keegan is someone who knows how I play and respects how I play. This game is an entirely different scenario so I am going to likely try to keep my connection up with him.

So the vote seems like it's going to be John Coffey. I'm quite sad about it for a few reasons. He is really nice and I know we work well together in games and he is a very loyal player. Also, Jake had an entire temper tantrum last night after results and that was just extremely annoying. But, Jake is more active and talks to me more while John is a rare sighting. Tbh I would rather it be Kevin but I think they're getting a pass since they participated in the challenge...always next tribal because knowing this tribe it's a strong possibility. I swear if the next challenge is a music video though I will punch a wall since that will be my death sentence since I do not participate in those. I never feel comfortable so I just don't. If we go to tribal as a tribe of 5, that might not be that good, so just really hoping that that is not the next challenge.

ok here's the tea guys. i am pretty solid in my tribe right now. after this vote tonight there 5 of us, and 4 of us are in an alliance, which is good. HOWEVER, i'm solid with the 3 people separately. that's put me in a good spot for a tribe swap/merge. obviously we're like years away from a merge. but we could tribe swap soon. we shall see!