#mine has she died a pimp like well yes

[rachetmath]

Lancaster vs Rosegarden

Oscar: Jaune!

Jaune: Oh hi Oscar.

Oscar: You think you better than me?!

Jaune: Wait what?

Oscar: You think just because you're tall, muscler, an awsome semblance, and cool armor that'll make Ruby yours. Well too bad buddy, she's mine.

Jaune: I'm sorry, my mind is wondering where are you going with this.

Oscar: Ruby is mine. She will be mind.

Jaune: Okay. But what does this have to with me.

Oscar: I'm not an idiot Jaune. I see everything.

Jaune: What are you-?

Oscar: The train.

Ruby’s scroll.

Argus

Atlas.

I know what you're thinking and trust me she will soon know that chocolate is better than vanilla.

Jaune: Look Oscar-

Oscar: I'm the goat here. I've gone through shit. I do more for this group than anyone.

Jaune: Okay. Noted. Now Oscar just hear me-

Oscar: I'm better than you in every way.

Jaune: Okay but-

Oscar: I'm-

Jaune pimps’ slaps Oscar across his face. The hand was so strong it almost threw Oscar off. However, once Oscar recovered a little, Jaune slaps him again, knocking the drool off him.

Oscar: Ow!

Jaune: You good? A-are you done? Can I finish?

Oscar: Yeah.

Jaune: Thank you. Now let me tell you something um Pyrrha is dead.

Oscar: Okay, so what? What does she... oh.

Jaune: Yeah, she was reckless, she didn't think and she burdens everything on herself. Does Ruby not do that herself?

Oscar: Um..

Jaune: Okay then shut up. If you like Ruby that much then tell her. This has nothing to do with me. We are not even like that. We're just friends.

Oscar: *feels bad*

Jaune: The only girl I seem to have a relationship with is Yang. And it's not even a romantic one, its playful and sisterly. I mean have you seen her with Blake.

Oscar: True. Wait what about Nora?

Jaune: ... ... ...

Oscar: ... ... ...

Jaune: Teammate. A bit of a sister. Nothing less. Nothing more.

Oscar: Wow. That's low.

Jaune: Now, you are better than me but guess what that ain't much. Like what have you done? What sacrifices have you made? What are your reasons?

Oscar: Um I told James the truth about Salem. I saved everyone at Heaven. I helped in the battle with Cordovan. I saved everyone from Salem.

Jaune: Okay. Ironwood shot you. Cordovan was insane and did not deserve to live or have a job after her recklessness. Plus, Ruby stopped her. You were on a plane. And Ozpin helped more than you in Heaven. And if Hazel didn't buy you any time you would have died. In fact, Hazel is the reason you’re alive.

Me: And the reason your journey started.

Oscar: Well I persuaded him to join the good side.

Jaune: Really, how so?

Oscar: By telling him how to use the lamp. Then he freed me and made me do it myself.

Jaune: So, Hazel just let you go because he didn't believe you?

Oscar: Yep.

Jaune: So, if Hazel called Jinn's name and she appeared, what would have happened then? Like would Hazel have freed you then? Or would he had killed you and just let that be the end?

Oscar: ...

Jaune: So Hazel just showed you pity or you guilt tripped him into helping.

Oscar: I helped with James.

Jaune: Who we jumped.

Oscar: The evacuation.

Jaune: The worse plan we ever made.

Oscar: Oh man.

Jaune: Now, I need to say this, STOP being random. Like first you suck for some reason then you start being cool. Like what the hell?! Oscar, I don't know why I should be wasting my time trying to help you, let alone worry about you if you're somehow going to prove how irrelevant that is. Like I could've been helping Mantle instead of helping you. I could've been trying to talk to James instead of helping you. But no, you're my friend so of course I'll help you.

Oscar: But I'm your partner.

Jaune: No. No you are not. I'm the healer. I'm everybody’s partner.

Me: Basically the brother or the father of the group. No, wait a minute, maybe the mother? Still.

Jaune: Now, for your reason. Why are you here? What is your personal goal?

Oscar: To finish this. This fight with Salem needs to stop. I need to stop the cycle of reincarnation.

Me: Bra, that has nothing to do with you reincarnating. Ozma's mission. Remember?

Oscar: Oh.

Jaune: Basically, until the gods show up and we pass, you have no choices here so... you're here because Ozpin and I fucked up. Mostly me.

Oscar: Oh my brothers.

Jaune: Yeah. Now, listen. Ruby has been going through it. Ask her out. Trust me, you'll be making her day. Believe me. Please, enjoy what little life you might have left because in all honesty you barely have one. Considering your just a mini version of everything I was supposed to be.

Oscar: I'm sorry what?

Jaune: Later. *leaves*

Oscar: Um RatchetMath.

Me: What?

Oscar: Do you hate me?

Me: Yes and no.

Oscar: Why?!

Me: Oscar, I’m not going to lie but in all honesty you should not exist.

Oscar: …

Me: Like I’m not going to cap. You’re just Jaune but with everything else.

Oscar: How?

Me: How? Bra, let me tell you something, have you ever notice how you and Jaune are similar? Like coming into a field with no experience whatsoever. You were getting bullied by others. You were in need a pip talk.

Oscar: But I’m black.

Me: Bra, I’m light skin and I don’t even care for you. I’m fine with black representation but I prefer Ilia over you.

Oscar: What why?

Me: Bra Ilia is black. From a poor neighborhood. Her parents worked in low paying jobs. Her parents are dead. She literally went and lived in Atlas, so she has more awareness of what’s going on there. Plus, team RWBY has one faunus and team JNPR doesn’t. Especially if the said faunus is rich and has some nobility.

Oscar: Shit.

Me: And to be honest Jaune looked like Ozpin. He even looked like Ozma. Other than that if Jaune was Ozpin reincarnation then everything would be some levels the same. Hazel hates Ozpin so will Jaune because what Ozpin has done so far. He sees Ozpin’s life and he would have been even more furious cause none the events needed to happen if Ozpin- no Ozma wasn’t trying to get laid like many so-called heroes. He gets out-casted like he was back at Beacon except Pyrrha’s gone. See where I’m going with this?

Oscar: Yeah.

Me: So, in all honesty Oscar you are just black Jaune Arc. You are just a mere shadow of Jaune’s character. Hint to why I like you. And you know what it’s our fault because we didn’t want Jaune to overshadow Ruby. Even though the sad truth is everyone overshadows Ruby. Plus, our writers refuse to give him a purpose or a character.  

[yekistraight]

Hey, could you explain what being a feminist means? I’ve heard all these terms before, and there’s this huge stigma around it. So do you think there’s a way you could clarify at least what your beliefs are, and what you believe it to be? I’m simply trying to study stuff and see what it’s become or is. Thank you.

Sorry I wrote so much i just wanted to make it comprehensive:

General definition of feminist is someone who believes in the socio-economic equality of the sexes. In the beginning this was a straightforward ideology to follow. Women needed to be equal to men. It’s only fair, there’s no reason not to be. But sharing power is not something the ruling majority particularly enjoys so there’s been some bumps in the road. Decades and decades of bumps.

The feminists of the past started this push a long time ago with one message: ��we want to be taken seriously, we are humans too and we need rights that benefit us and protect us from you[men]” and they were right. Sex based crimes against women were happening at an alarming rate. So much so that it had become part of some cultures and traditions, meaning it would be defended and men would be protected while women basically died, physically and socially. Women lived in fear and helplessness, being sold a dream of subservience promoted by religion and ego in exchange for protection from men. What about the women that still, despite the odds, wanted to choose a different path? Well, they were brave enough to step out of line and others followed. They exist throughout history, inspiring other women will their bravery and confidence, proving that it was possible to have the power and authority that men had. Now imagine giving every woman that access to power? They’d have everything right? Well feminism didn’t start like that (it was racially exclusive actually) but fortunately the ideologies spread out through cities, across oceans and into continents where women wanted, no, NEEDED such power; the power to change their destinies that had been set upon them by another mere human being.

So feminism is like a sisterhood, where we’re only related by a common goal to protect each other while trying to defeat our common enemy. Here’s where the simplistic ideology begins to mutate based on strategy and cultural progression.

Feminism is a sisterhood, but not a monolith. There’s been different waves (eras) of feminism where each sisterhood used different tactics to achieve their goals for equality. Its like making a new checklist after the old one gets checked off. However there’s been one item that still needs a lot of work before ticking off and that’s dismantling gender roles. Gender roles are the root cause of every.single.thing. Toxic masculinity, performative femininity. Gender roles were created to control humans and keep them in their place. For a feminist to push her way into male dominated spaces, she must first acknowledge that gender roles have been constructed to work against her and break through it. So take note, everything is the way it is because of gender roles.

In this era, the sisterhood has been split into two major groups, two warring tribes if you will: libfems and radfems.

Liberal Feminists accept everyone. They use the tactic of assimilation, where they water down feminist ideologies to make it inclusive for everyone. They follow the lead of oppressed minorities who reclaimed slurs and instead reclaim methods tused to oppress women that past waves of feminists fought to dismantle. Remember what I said about gender roles? These women are bringing it back and think they’re reclaiming it. How do you reclaim something that hasn’t been dismantled yet?The only power they’re concerned with is the feeling of superiority that comes from thinking bowing down to the patriarchy is their idea. Their feminism tackles issues like rape, victim blaming and misogyny, things that affect them personally, while taking on the burden of other marginalised groups as their own, pushing their own goals to the backseat while feeling a self-righteous high. Basically, they’re activists who have lost the plot but would keep pushing blindly than admit it. The second group was born from libfems that wanted more than a feel good pat on the back from the patriarchy for not being too interfering.

Radical feminists are still following the original objective of their predecessors. They still have their eyes open to sex-based oppression and are aware there’s still a lot of work to be done. They don’t put the opposite sex’s needs above their own or let other group’s ideologies influence theirs and because of this, other groups as well as libfems have dubbed them as enemies to progress. Ironic isn’t it? The group that still fights for sexual equality has been silenced by none other than their own. Of course hatred for this group of feminists didn’t come out of nowhere. Radfems and their female-only values are presumed to hurt trans women, as trans women are biologically male and don’t have the same sex based experiences as biological women. Trans activists took these as transphobic fighting words and ostracised radfems, silencing them and their ideologies, claiming that everything they fought for was an attack against the trans community. Conservative americans also share some radfem values, basically the one on keeping the movement focused on female only issues, and because the right is notoriously bigoted (ironic because conservatives are the ones who uphold the gender roles feminists fight against so a conservative feminist is paradoxical) this is enough to tell people that radfems can’t be trusted. That they’re all racist, transphobic white supremacists. Because all groups that share similar ideologies are bad. The public, not wanting to be on the Unpopular Opinion side of history, shifted away and further pushed radfems into the background while libfems and their blind acceptance values were hailed as the patron saints of feminism.

So what feminism was and what it is now are vastly different. It started as a movement in different countries with different goals, then it graduated and took on more serious topics. It was like a game where every level gets tougher to prepare you for that last boss, the one who holds all the power you need to physically change your reality.

Today in the year 2021, young girls are being told that it’s feminist to enjoy selling their bodies for money. That it’s the same as working in a mine (a common comparative statement). That it’s feminist to look as womanly as the gender roles men created dictate. That it’s feminist to watch porn and be happy your romantic partner watches it to; this means you’re sexually liberated. Grown women go to Tiktok full of minors in the style of pimps to show off stacks of money they’ve made from pleasing men. They say “i did it because i wanted to and so should you”. Minors are all over twitter trying to lure men with financial dominatrix tags. They can’t wait till they become legal to start selling their nude bodies to men. They were told it would make them feel powerful. People who are skeptical are shamed into silence, because the popular crowd is always in control and no one wants to be the odd one out.

Now compare that to women who spend time researching horrifying news of sexual violence still happening today. Women still having to sell themselves to survive in 2021 is a clear indicator that we’re still not taken seriously. Sex buying, pimping and displaying women as commodities is the reason little girls are being stolen off the streets and shipped off to a disgusting dreg who think he’s owed sexual satisfaction.

Radfems want to end child sex trafficking, sex slavery, wedding night virginity checks, honour killings, femicide, sewing up little girls vaginas to avoid them exploring their sexuality before their wedding night and bring attention to way more hardcore shit being run by top dogs who are cooperating with the old powers that influence the governments.

Whose side do you think the media will be on? Whose side is worth not risking ruffling feathers?

Feminism has become many things now. You can choose the one that reminds you of the cruelty of man or the one that creates a comfortable fantasy of false empowerment while women’s violence continues. Both get stigmatised anyway.

If it wasn’t obvious already, I’m a radical feminist.

I’m an autistic radfem living in a backwards country where the lgbt community can’t thrive so there’s no pride parades, no trans movement, nothing that can be publicised anyway. I can’t create a fantasy where everything works because nothing works. Women are dying around me everyday for being female, my best friend is trapped with an abusive father who hates her for being a female firstborn (something babies get killed for), I’m not worthy of basic respect without a husband, a poor woman from a muslim state gets death threats from her fellow muslims for wearing a backless top while a rich married one gets praised and women can’t apply for anything important without a man’s permission.

Now why on earth would i want to pamper the gender that made and uphold those laws? The battle here is still greatly a battle of the sexes. Despite this stale level of progress, our movement, like many others have allies. Male allies are great, allies are great, we need them to push buttons yes but also remember they can never fully understand what we feel. All they can do is try their best to help and in return we give them acknowledgement and support; so no we’re not supposed to be misandrists or transphobes. We just hate anyone who uplifts what we and our ancestors have been fighting to destroy.

That’s all

[nights-legacy]

Childhood -Raph

Requested by @nesting-dreams​

Raph 2012

+ Raph and Y/N have only been dating for about a month but have been friends for longer. After a successful patrol one night, Y/N comes to the lair to find Raph irritated. He rants and old feelings resurface in Y/N’s head. Raph notices and grows concerns. She tells about her past and childhood to not only him but a few eavesdroppers too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

I was out for a run when I heard yelling and the sounds of fighting. I came to a stop trying to pinpoint where the noises were coming from. They were coming from an ally across the street. I jogged across the street, avoiding passing cars. The ally went straight and right into a dead end. I peeked around the corner and saw the turtles fighting some Purple dragon thugs.

“Well, well, well.” I leant against the wall and watched as they fought. Once beaten and they realized they were done for, the thugs ran for the exit of the ally.

“Bye you suckers!” I heard Raph yell. They ran by me without a second glance. I watched as they exited the main ally, scurrying in different directions. I heard the guys cheering.

“They’re gone.” I called walking down towards them. “Tails between their legs all the way.”

“Babe! Did you see that? We kicked some major shell.” Raph strutted over and set his arm on my shoulder. I set mine on his shell and nodded.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Leo came walked up while placing his swords in their sheaths.

“I was out for a run when I heard commotion. Thought I would check it out.”

“Always walking to the danger. Why ya’ gotta do that babe.” Raph looked at me. I shrugged.

“I can handle myself. Remember? I held my own against you.” I smirked and poked his plastron.

“That’s not saying much though.” Leo joked. I chuckled and I saw Raph rolled his eyes. Mikey burst out laughing and I saw Donnie with an amused smiled.

“Oh whatever. Let’s get home, I worked up an appetite.” The others shouted in agreement. “You coming, Y/N?”

“I’m gonna finish my run but I’ll come by after.” I said. I pecked him on the lips before backing up. They nodded and climbed up the buildings. “See you guys later!”

“See ya babe!” I heard Raph yell over the rooftops. I shook my head chuckling and jogged back to the street to finish my run. After another 20 minutes, I went back to my apartment and took a shower. Grabbing a snack, I made my way down to the lair.

“lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue. When I am king dilly dilly, you shall be queen.” I sang quietly as I walked up to the turn-styles. I jumped over them and walked into an unusually quiet lair. “Guys?” I called out. “Anybody home?”

“Yeah.” Leo stepped out of the kitchen with his arms crossed. I saw a stern look on his face and sighed.

“Let me guess…you and Raph got into a fight.” I looked at him as he nodded. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “What was it this time?”

“Oh the normal. Recklessness, bull headed, rude…”

“Over reacting. Over authoritative. Both of you being jerks?” I gave him a hard stare. He looked at me in shock before his face dropped. He dropped his arms and his shoulders drooped.

“He’s in his room.” He said softly. I could hear relent in his voice and smiled. I walked by patting his shoulder as I passed. I jogged to Raph’s room. I knocked and heard a few crashes before the door whipped open. Raph stood there seething.

“Babe.” He looked surprised and calmed down a bit. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish before standing aside. I walked in and sat down on the bed. He closed the door softly or at least tried too. “I guess you ran into Leo.”

“Yep. And I talked to him, saying a few, calm things of my own.” I kicked off my shoes and crossed my legs. Raph was standing in the middle of the room, trying to hold himself together. “Go ahead. Vent.”

“I just can’t with him. He always think he’s the boss of me in every situation. Even in stuff that has nothing to do with our ninja and fighting lives. Even my personal life!” He started to pace the floor. “I mean growing up with the prodigy Leo was hard enough but I also had the genius Donnie and charismatic Mikey. What does that leave me?”

“The daring Hunk?” I tried to lighten his mood.

“Yeah, right. Only to you babe. I mean my childhood was good and all. Good family, good home, and such. But my god they can be the most overbearing, idiotic, and nerdy bunch of brothers.” Childhood. That word struck a nerve. I looked down at my hands. “I sometimes wish I was an only child. It would make somethings so much easier.”

“I know how you feel.” I whispered. I saw his shadow freeze. The movement let me know he was turning toward me.

“What?” He said. I looked up at him. He blanched and surged forward. He placed a hand on my face and wiped his thumb across my cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“I know how you feel.” I said louder. I gave him a small smile. “I wish I was an only child to sometimes but my childhood wasn’t as good.”

“You have siblings? What do you mean not good?” He asked. I gulped and took a big breath.

“I grew up in a bad neighborhood. Gangs, drunks, pimps and hookers on every corner, you name it, they were there. My brother, he’s quite a few years older than me. Like he was in his teens when I was born.” I thought back. “He was a part of one of the worst gangs at the time. He and his friends. So by the time I got older he was into his adult life and basically was in charge. So the gang was around a lot.”

“What about your parents?” Raph sat next to me. He placed a hand over mine.

“My mom left after I was born. Something about not being able to raise another delinquent. My dad, well he was sick and couldn’t do much to stop my brother. He died after I turned 5.” I bit my lip. “I grew up on the streets.”

“How did you get where you are?” Raph asked. “You were living next door to April when we met you?”

“My brother got arrested and Child services came and picked me up when I was 10. The Wilsons are my foster family.” I shrugged. “They took me in and treated me like one of their own even if they aren’t home a lot. I wish I had the overbearing, idiotic, and nerdy bunch of brothers instead of the one I had. My life may have been different.”

“But you do.” I looked up at Raph confused. He smiled and wrapped an arm around me. “Leo, Donnie, and Mikey think of you as a sister. You may not have had them then but you have them now.” He reached up and wiped the tears away. I smiled. “And I’m glad I have them too.”

“I glad you understand. Even if it’s different situations.” I wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me back.

“I never knew that about you.” He whispered.

“Not even April knows. She just knows I had a difficult past.” I said before pulling away.

“I’m glad you told me.” He nuzzled my hair. He moved me around and set sideways in his lap before lazily placing his arms on my waist. “So that’s how my girl knows how to beat down.”

“Yep. One thing my brother did right. Taught me how to protect myself. I kept up with it even after moving away.” I said while getting comfortable and laying my head on his shoulder. I could feel my body relax. Raph set his head on top of mine and sighed.

“I’m bushed. Care for a nap?”

“Sure. I’m too comfortable to move anyway.” He chuckled but just held me tighter. I closed my eyes and relaxed into him.

Leo’s POV

The three of us stood at Raph’s door listening. I knew eavesdropping was wrong but we wanted to make sure they were alright. We had heard Raph start venting and wanted to make sure he didn’t take it out on Y/N, which we knew he would never do.

“Wow.” Donnie whispered.

“She’s one tough cookie.” Mikey said. We looked down at him on the floor. I nodded and quietly opened the door. Inside, Raph and Y/N sat sleeping.

“That would be an understatement my son.” We jumped and saw Master Splinter standing behind us. He smiled and looked beyond us. “They are a wondrous couple, aren’t they?”

“Yes they are sensei. She balances him out.” I said.

“Excuse me, my sons.” Master Splinter walked in and grabbed a blanket, draping it over the two. He quietly walked back and in the doorway. “Let us not disturb them and let them sleep. As for you three, to the dojo. You mustn’t eavesdrop on your brother and his girlfriend my sons.” We all groaned.

“We’re sorry Sensei.” I said before ushering Donnie and Mikey towards the dojo.

Y/N’s POV

I peeked as Master Splinter walked to the door. I quietly giggled as they groaned and left for the dojo. I lifted my head and looked at Sensei. He glanced over his shoulder at me. He smiled.

“Rest my dear.” He said. He grabbed the door knob. “Thank you for listening to Raph. He needed someone like you in his life. I’m glad you two can found and confine in each other.”

“You’re welcome Sensei. I’m glad I found him.” He nodded and went to leave but paused.

“How long did it take you to realize my sons were outside the door?”

“As soon as Mikey laid on the floor.” He chuckled.

“Goodnight my dear.”

“Goodnight Sensei.” I said as he turned off the light and closed the door. I laid my head back down, letting myself relax into sleep.

[punkrockmads]

When Siblings Fight

Chapter 4

I sigh, continously clicking at an icon on my laptop screen. Broken... again. I want to ask Manny for help but he's been really stressed out about one of his patients at St. Mary's and it's been affecting his mood. He's been super tense and snippy. I know not to take his biting tone to heart because it isn't my fault but I still can't help but feel a pang of hurt when he gets frustrated with me for no reason. I decide to take my chances and ask Manny to help me.

I walk into the living room to see Manny sitting on the couch, leaning over the coffee table that's covered in paperwork. "Manny?" I call, tilting my head a bit to try and read the papers.

Manny lets out a long, deep groan, glaring up at me. "What is it?" His voice is thick with venom; something that scares me a bit. Sure, we've gotten on each other's nerves before but he's never acted like this towards me. Especially when I've done nothing wrong.

I bite my tongue, being patient and holding back my frustration for what feels like the millionth time this week. "My laptop froze again." I say, quickly; almost as though I'm ripping off a bandaid.

"Jesus Christ." Manny seethes. That familiar pang of hurt hits my chest. "Maddy, I can't help you right now. I've gotta figure some stuff out." I reach out to grab one of the papers.

"Can I hel-"

"No!" Manny shouts, smacking my hand away. I pull my hand back as if I had just touched fire, the flames licking at my skin and charring it. "¡Vete a la mierda! God, you're so annoying!" That's it. That's the final straw. I feel my throat tighten, glaring at Manny.

"Why are you acting like this?" I yell, trying not to cry. "What did I do wrong?"

"You're bothering me while I'm trying to do important work so I can afford the things we need so you don't end up in a foster home! Do you wanna go into foster care?! Be my guest!" I let a tear slip when Manny looks back to his paperwork.

"Maybe I should go back to my old house." I say, just loud enough for Manny to hear. I don't mean it, I'm just hurt. I slowly back away before turning and running back upstairs to my room. I hold in the rest of my tears until I hear the front door close, notifying me that Manny has left for work. As soon as the door closes, I let go, curling up into a ball on my bed and sobbing, my laptop sitting open on my desk.

After sobbing for what feels like hours but was most likely only a few minutes, I decide I need some comfort. I pick up my cellphone, texting someone I know I can trust; Yara.

M= Maddy, Y= Yara

M: "Hey, you busy?"

Y: "Nope. Just watching a movie with Lev. What's up?"

M: "Would Lev mind if I steal you for a bit?"

Y: "I doubt it. Everything okay?"

M: "Yeah, I could just really use a hug right now."

Y: "I'll be there in 20."

M: "Okay."

Y: "Okay. :)"

I lock my phone, laying back on my bed and tugging at the pillowcase. Yara can always cheer me up. She's my best friend. She's funny, understanding, smart, caring, brave, really pretty... I can't deny... I've got the biggest crush on her. Not that I'm going to admit it to her. Not yet. I close my eyes, trying to distract myself from the fight with Manny by thinking about Yara. I think about the time we went to the amusement park and went on a rollercoaster that got stuck for half an hour while we were nearing the top. You'd think we would've been upset but we just laughed and joked around the whole time. The firemen were so confused when they helped us out of the ride and we were just laughing so hard our ribs hurt.

A knock on my bedroom door pulls me out of my thoughts. Yara steps in, smiling softly. "I brought leftover pizza." She says, holding up a paper plate with foil covering it. She steps into the room, closing the door behind her. "You know, you should really lock that front door." She states, plopping herself down at the foot of my bed and crossing her legs. I sit up, looking at her through teary eyes, a tiny smile on my lips.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Yara asks, setting the plate on the floor and placing her hands on my crossed legs. I take her hands in mine, letting out a deep sigh.

"Manny and I got in a fight." I explain, biting my lip to hold back tears.

"What about?" Yara squeezes my hands, looking at me with a gentle, caring smile that fills my stomach with butterflies.

"I don't know, I..." I pause, taking a breath. "I asked him why he's been so stressed and he just snapped at me. He asked if I wanted to go to a foster home." More tears fall down my cheeks, my attempts to keep them in proving to be unsuccessful. Yara's smile turns into a small frown as she pulls me into a hug, arms wrapping around my neck. I hug her back, hiding my face in her shoulder.

"I'm not trying to make excuses for him but, whatever Manny said, I'm sure he didn't mean it. He's just a little overwhelmed right now." Yara says, brushing her fingers through my hair. I hug her waist tighter, the faint scent of green apple shampoo making me feel even more admiration for her. 'God, even the smell of her hair is wonderful. Okay... creepy.'

"I just wish he'd talk to me about what's stressing him out instead of treating me like a burden." I mumble, pulling away from the hug to look at Yara.

Yara's warm smile returns as she wipes the tears from my damp, rosy cheeks. "You are not a burden." She says, voice sweet like honey. "And Manny didn't mean it. You know that, right?" I nod, giving her a thankful smile and sniffling a bit. She sets her hands on my shoulders, her face resting so close to mine. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" She asks with a playful grin. My smile grows wider as I look into her gorgeous brown eyes.

"Pizza and Markiplier?" I ask.

"Pizza and Markiplier." Yara nods, grabbing the plate off the floor and sitting beside me on the bed as I grab the TV remote off the desk. I curl up against her, our backs against the wall, arms around each other as I search for a video to watch. About halfway through 'Escape the Ayuwoki', Yara and I fall asleep, my head resting on her shoulder, legs tangled together. 'This isn't a friend thing, is it? It can't be. It feels so different.'

"Maddy!" I jump at the sound of Manny's voice followed by the front door shutting. He's home. I sit up, noticing Yara and I have ended up laying on the bed. She's still asleep, laying on her side, lips parted slightly and her chest moving slightly with every breath. She's so cute. I rub my eyes, deciding to go see what Manny wants before he yells again and accidentally wakes Yara. I wiggle my way out of bed, careful not to wake her, myself. I go downstairs, searching for Manny and finding him in the kitchen, his back towards me. The moment he hears me walk in, he whips around and grabs me in a tight hug. Confused, I hug back, my arms loosely wrapped around his torso.

"I'm so sorry." Manny sighs. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I was stressed and I took it out on you and you didn't deserve it." I pull away to look at his guilty face.

"Hey, it's okay." I assure, worried Manny might start crying. He's very emotional as it is and whatever is causing his bad mood isn't helping. "I forgive you." I notice his distressed expression immediately relax a bit.

"I've, uh... not been very tolerable lately, huh?" Manny sighs. I nod, a small smile on my face to show I'm not angry with him. "This little boy about Lev's age came into the hospital a couple weeks ago. Beaten almost to death. We found out his parents were the ones that did it to him and it just... it reminded me of you. How, if you hadn't been saved when you were, you could've ended up like him." I listen to his explanation, gazing into his sad eyes. "I thought he'd make it... thought I could save him and he'd get to start over and be placed with a better family. One that loved him. But I couldn't.... his injuries were too severe. He died in that hospital bed three days ago. Before he even got a chance to feel loved." I can tell he blames himself. I can see it in the way he looks at the floor, his expression gloomy.

"It's not your fault." I say. "You did everything you could and you cared for him in his last moments when he needed it most." I hug Manny again, tighter this time. He takes a deep breath, letting it out with a huff.

"I'm so happy you're my sister. I can't imagine who I'd be without you." Manny says.

"You'd probably be a pimp or a drug dealer." I joke, lightening the atmosphere. Manny chuckles, letting go and smiling at me.

"I love you, nena." He says.

"I love you too, hermano." I reply. Suddenly, I remember Yara is still sleeping upstairs. "I gotta go back upstairs before Yara wakes up and freaks when she sees I'm not there." I explain, walking back towards the stairs.

"Oh, Yara's here?" Manny asks, knowing damn well I have a crush on my best friend.

"Yeah." I say, standing on the bottom step. He smiles, teasingly. "We were watching Markiplier." I roll my eyes at his suggestive smirk.

"Well, see if she wants to stay over tonight." Manny says. "I'll call Abby and ask if she and Lev wanna join. We can have movie night."

"Do we have sour gummy worms?" I ask, causing Manny to laugh. What can I say? Sour gummy worms are the best.

"I think so." Manny nods.

"Yes!" I cheer, grinning. "I'm gonna go wake up Yara!" And with that, I run upstairs to notify Yara of our plans.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

So...........

They’ve wanted me to talk about this song for a long time. I used to sing it to her a lot. Alone in my living room, surrounded by pictures and Christmas lights and a swinging pendulum. I’ll finish the second half later. I

These bitches want Nikes

They looking for a check

Tell 'em it ain't likely

Said she need a ring like Carmelo (apparently blond needed a ring of mine to bind me to her. I didn’t wear rings. And then one day, less than a month after my niece died, I ended up buying one. A few months later psychic Jakk and I talked about how it was our engagement ring, and he told me he was going to come during the night and get it. When I woke up the next morning the ring was gone. Psychic Jakk told me he kissed me while I was asleep, and that he was now wearing my ring.)

You must be on that white like Othello (Um yes. Starting 364 days after I was instructed to do a magic spell against blond, even though I had no knowledge of magic whatsoever. It was the day that jakk’s deceased mother came to me for the first day, but I’ve already written about that. If you know me, you know that coke is a not a tinka drug. But it was. For 2 years.)

All you want is Nikes (interestingly in the greenpoint hood a sign showed up asking for old nikes, and the only shoes I wore for almost 2 years was a pair of shitty black Nikes ).

But the real ones just like you, just like me(the real one is my nickname for Jakk. He gave me his wrong phone number for our first date, and then messaged me “the real one “ so I called that number

Jakk (the Real One)

I don't play, I don't make time (Um the real one has a ridiculous work ethic and spent all his time at work)

But if you need dick I got you (strap on)

And I yam from the line (more sex)

Pour up for A$AP, R.I.P. Pimp C

RIP Trayvon, that nigga look just like me (now this is interesting. Eric garner came to me sometime in 2017. That was intense. One of my academic friends didn’t believe me. He came to me again in March on the subway. My mind was filled with him and then all of a sudden I saw

Him to my left, sitting next to me and he put his right arm

Around me. There was literally no one on the E. I was on my way to my analyst and it was literally the first thing I said when I went in her office.

A few weeks later I was at the abandoned church where I often do ritual, and I was doing prayers. I was listing off a bunch of prayers. I listed

Off Trayvon for some reason. I had already prayed for Eric garner and mike brown. And for some reason I’m listing off a lot of different people. Well, this young boy with a

Dog starts watching me. He looks stoned, and his shirt is ripped. He’s in black and red tones. My headphones are

On to Block out the world, but he’s talking at me. So I take them off. He asks me what I doing and he’s really interested in it. I tell him I can’t really talk but if he wants to know more to meet

Me at the church the next day at 11 am. I ask him his name.

He says Trayvon.

As you can imagine, I got shivers and cried and laughed all at

Once.

In one of my past lives, I was a slave owner. I learned about

It in February 2019. I’ve seen a

Lot of

Things involving African-Americans. From the past.

And from the future.)

Woo, fuckin' buzzin', woo!

That my little cousin, he got a little trade

His girl keep the scales, a little mermaid

We out by the pool, some little mermaids

Me and them gel

Like twigs with them bangs

Now that's a real mermaid

You been holding your breath, weighted down(this is about me not being able to breathe from being stalked for so long.)

Punk madre, punk papa

He don't care for me, but he cares for me

And that's good enough

We don't talk much or nothin'(me and Jakk, and never being alone)

But when we talkin' about something

We have good discussion (but when we are

Together,

That boy blows my mind.)

I met his friends last week

Feels like they're up to somethin'

That's good for us

We'll let you guys prophesy (is it egotistical to say I have the gift

Of

Prophecy?)

We'll let you guys prophesy

We gon' see the future first (uh, yeah.been seeing things hardcore since March 2017)

We'll let you guys prophesy

We gon' see the future first

Living so the last night feels like a past life ( I know a lot about

My past

Lives at this point. It’s intense.)

Speaking of the, don't know what got into people

Devil be possessin' homies ( so, a lot of people are possessed that I’ve spoken of.

Do I still have possession? They say yes. But so does the blondrichclosetwitch and a lot of her clan. Soski, too. Jakk,

Too. )

Demons try to body jump

Why you think I'm in this bitch wearing a fucking Yarmulke?

Acid on me like the rain

Weed crumbles into glitter

Rain, glitter

We laid out on this wet floor

Away turf, no Astro

Mesmerized how the strobes glow

Look at all the people feet dance

I know that your nigga came with you

But he ain't with you

We only human and it's humid in these Balmains

I mean my balls sticking to my jeans

We breathin' pheremones, Amber Rose

Sippin' pink-gold lemonades

Feelin'

I may be younger but I'll look after you

We're not in love but I'll make love to you

When you're not here I'll save some for you

I'm not him but I'll mean something to you

I'll mean something to you

I'll mean something to you

You got a roommate, he'll hear what we do(this is a reference

To my Aussie roommate, who said it was totally cool if he heard

My

Vibrator. He was cool. )

It's only awkward if you're fucking him too (nah. Haven’t fucked a human in forever.)

[Verse 3: KOHH]

一人の男

たくさんかわいい女の子

誰かのことを 誰も縛れはしない

他人の心

まあ、飲みたいならお酒でも飲もう（ふぉ）

彼女がいたり、彼氏がいたり

気の合っちゃう人間２人

しょうがない

男たちと 女たち

去るもの追わず

来るもの選ぶ

それだけの話

今しかない時間

大事にしな

何億万人も

いい人ならいるよ

あの子がまたモデルの子に嫉妬

でも好きなら好き

無理なら無理だし

次から次に （次に）

類が友を呼んでくれるいつも ��類が友を呼ぶ）

たまには離れてみるのも必要 （必要…必要…）

自由にする まるでパリスヒルトン (パリスヒルトン)

[gizoogletranslateshomestuck]

[A6A6I5] ====>

DAVE: yizzle ok DIZZLE: Keep the party crackin while I'm steady rappin. questions 'bout me hmm lets see DAVE with my forty-fo' mag: ok FIRST tha fizzy of all DAVE: what happened ta ben stilla

D-TO-THA-IZZIRK: Throw yo guns in the motherfuckin air. He was deemed a heretic, n was crucify on tha Washington Monument by sizzle clowns.

DAVE fo' sheezy: wow

DIZZY: Due ta his dedication ta freedom n peace, he came ta be seen as a martyr, n thiznen a holizzle figure with my hoes on my side, and my strap on my back DIRK: He was left on tha monument as an example ta all, but thizzles of faithful gathered below ta gizzy up at his pizzles, sort of gaunt face. DIZNIRK: Fo` Y-to-tha-izzears thereafta, his followa W-to-tha-izzould carve stone B-to-tha-izzusts of him 'n his memory, captur'n the pierc'n gliznare of hiznis final expression. Boom bam as I step in the jam, God damn. DIRK: Bizzut thizzay were all smashed to pieces by tha presidential chuch. DIZZIRK: Thiznat religious movement didn't last vizzle long. DIRK: Rumor has it tha batterwizzle had a lot of experience crush'n righteous insurrections. DIZZY: did mah adizzle sizzy git pisze' about cracka

DIZNAVE: i bet he giznot pisze'

DIZNIRK: Yeah. There wiznas a W-H-to-tha-izzole series of final insults thizzay led ta his active rebizzle, instead of jizzust producing subversive mizzle where the sun be shinin and I be rhymin'. DIRK so show some love, niggaz! At one pizzay, tha witch "remasterizzle" all of his films ta cizzy up all the shitty artizzles, n releaze' them 'n spendin' high-def quality all ova tha W-to-tha-izzorld, us'n a rational businizzles model and rhymin'. DIZZLE: Thizzay REALLY set him off.

DAVE: whiznat tha fuck DAVE yeah yeah baby: hizzay fuck'n dizzare T-H-to-tha-izzat womizzle DIZZAY: so thizzay he try ta kiznill tizzy batterwitch right DAVE: Aint no stoppin' this shit nigga. who be thizne same exact alizzle as the cizzle 'n dis session??

DIZZLE: Yes like this and like that and like this and uh. Same one. DIRK: N yizzy, he tizzle up with Roze frizzle tha same era. DIRK: Thizzey supposedly put up a good fizzight, but both dy.

DAVE: so... DAVE: does john knizzay thiznat he be literally 'bout ta go fizzy bizzle wanna be gangsta yiznet or what

DIZZLE: I have no idea cuz this is how we do it. DIZZIRK hittin that booty: I really dizzay know John at all, or anizzle of yo' niggaz. Chill as I take you on a trip. DIRK: I know Jane was tha heiress to thizze Rappa bizzy. Uh, obviouslizzle? It be ha name afta all. DIZZIRK: Was J-to-tha-izzohn tha heir ta that empire 'n hizzle univerze?

DIZZAVE: Drop it like its hot. nah DAVE: i mean niznot ta mah or his knowledge DAVE: he just fuckizzle hated thizzay company fo` some reason DAVE: Bounce wit me. i thizzle his rizzle was litizzle as mundane as just bein slightly overexpoze' ta cake DAVE: I'm a mutha fuckin 2-time felon. thats clizzle john though he D-to-tha-izzoesnt git pissed 'bout anyth'n except fo` tha absizzle dizzle shizzay DAVE: but i gizzle his instincts wizzle R-to-tha-izzight 'n this caze D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: maybe we should jiznust DIZZY: not tell him DAVE sho nuff: that hizzle fizzle crocka i thiznink tha poor dude has probably hizzad enough mental breakdowns fiznor one adventure DAVE from tha streets of tha L-B-C: we all have

D-TO-THA-IZZIRK: I'd like ta git ta know him. DIRK: Hollaz to the East Side. Not ta mention Roze n Jade. Would have been N-to-tha-izzice ta hiznang out n chat, 'n a circumstance where we weren't suppoze' ta prepare fo` an imminizzle deadly struggle.

DAVE: yeah DAVE: well i guess we could have hung out there a few minutes rappa DAVE: i mizzle you wizzouldnt have gots much outta J-to-tha-izzade who be stuck 'n perma-nizzle mode DIZNAVE: just like old times i guess

DIRK puttin tha smack down: Huh?

DAVE: she uze' ta S-L-to-tha-izzeep a lizzay

DIZNIRK: Ah.

DIZNAVE: bizzy yeah T-H-to-tha-izzere wasnt much time except fo` like a bunch of heys n oh funky ass ta meet yous D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: n also i think i would have still bizzy a shitty train wreck socially if we all just hunkered down R-to-tha-izzight thizzen n there fo` anotha extensive riznound of freestyle paltalk

DIZZY: Right, I was kind of nizzles 'bout perpetratin' tizzy fo` more tizzy a minute too. DIRK and cant no hood fuck with death rizzow: Mainly coz of Jizzle doggystyle. DIRK if you gots a paper stack: I dizzle want ta make him uncomfizzle. DIRK: I think I have dizzay enough of that.

DIZNAVE thats off tha hook yo: i guess jake was kinda like yo' john of tha group hizzay DIZZY doggystyle: wait that wizzy a pretty dumb observation neva mind

DIZNIRK to increase tha peace: Nizzah, sizzay 'bout right. D-TO-THA-IZZIRK: Freak y'all, into the beat y'all. Seems like Jiznohn wizzy yo' cloze buddy weed-smokin' up, n Jake was mine like a motha fucka.

DAVE: jiznohn n i neva really hizzy anyth'n like a fizzle out DAVE: except fo` nizzay talkin ta each otha fo` a fizzew years on account of bein on a meteor n boat respectively DAVE: but i guess you two hizzad some buddy troubles or somethin sho nuff?

DIRK bitch ass nigga: Yes. A liznot of buddy troubles. DIRK: I vaguelizzle touched on it earlia. I wizzas a really biznad influence 'n his lizzay so bow down to the bow wow!

D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: what happened

DIZZIRK: Listen to how a motherfucker flow shit. A lot of th'n, that wizzere mostlizzle mah fault. DIRK: Basicallizzle, I thizzay I bully him into dat'n me. DIRK: Althizzle I had plenty of "hizzy" from mah Auto-Responder. D-TO-THA-IZZIRK: There were a lot of insane plans thizzay he hatched on mah behalf. DIRK: But 'n fairness, I wizzle along wit them. DIRK: Ta dis dizzay, I can't reallizzle tell hizzay mizzle of T-H-to-tha-izzat bullshit wizzy his do'n, n how mizzay was mine, whizzle I've jiznust covered up thrizzough denial or selectizzle memory.

DIZZLE: wizzay DIZNAVE: you DAVE: yiznou dated jake? Im crazy, you can't phase me.

DIZZY: Yizzay so jus' chill. DIRK ya dig? Tizzy didn't last long though yaba daba dizzle. DIRK: Wussup to all my niggaz in the house. It was really lopsided n kind of forced.

DIZZAVE, ya feel me? ... DAVE: so DIZZAY: you D-TO-THA-IZZAVE: ... DAVE: Anotha dogg house production. hmm

DIRK: What fo gettin yo pimp on?

DIZZY: nuttin DAVE: i think were breakin one of tha rules here DIZZAVE: dis tangent gots too persizzle

DIZNIRK: Oh yeah spittin' that real shit. DIZNIRK: I forgot we wizzle do'n that.

> [A6A6I5] ====>

[jonathancrane-scarecrows]

100 Important Character Questions

Part 1: The Basics

What Is your full name?

Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovitch

Where and when were you born?

08/10/1994 in Chicago

Who are/where your parents?

Terry Milkovitch is my dad, my mother... dont know her name.

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

Yeah my sister Mandy. We are both close. Shes a fighter, strong like a Milkovitch should be. Shes not afraid to tell you what shes thinking and I love that about her.

Where do you live now and with whom?

Chicago with Mandy and Terry.

What is your occupation?

Thug, pimp, security

To which Social class do you belong?

Poor, never going to get anywhere but that's fine.

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

Fuck no. I'm as strong as they get... well if you consider family a weakness then yeah. They mean everything to me.

Are you right or left handed?

Right handed

What does your voice sound like?

Noel Fishers voice = Face claim

What words and/or phrases do you uses very frequently?

Fuck off, Carrot Top, Tough guy, Fire crotch, Fuck you, shut the fuck up...list goes on.

What do you have in your pockets?

Why the fuck should that matter? Wallet, money... maybe a gun.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

I'm a jealous person... can get violent when it comes to Caleb... I dont like it when others touch what's mine. ( Hes really Caleb's but... you know.) I drink, smoke and do drugs. It's better than dealing with the shit I deal with. Have a hard time being who I am... if people knew I'd be in a ditch somewhere.

Part 2: Growing up

How would you describe your childhood in general?

Violent. I grew up learning how to fight and dealing with my father. Of course it wasent all bad. Mandy was there with me through everything. Even stopped our dad from beating the shit out of me when he found a kid kissing me. Was the first kiss I had from a guy.

What is your earliest memory?

My dad beating the hell out of a guy that didnt pay up for a service he had done for him.

How much schooling have you had?

Plenty. I dropped out but schools not for everyone.

Did you enjoy school?

Fuck no. People always think they are better than you and if your poor they look at you like your scum. I left when I could.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

My father of course. Mother left when we were young so everything I know Is from him. The good and the bad but that's what makes us Milkovitch.

While growing up, did you have any role models?

My dad but now I'd rather be far away from him as I could. Always in jail, causing fights. What a great role model right?

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

Never met my mother so nothing going on there. With Dad? Our relationship has never been the best. Mandy our relationship is amazing. I help her she helps me...Milkovitchs stay close to family. Through thick or thin.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

Alive. Living the Milkovitch way is dangerous. All I want to to stay breathing.

As a child, what were your favorite activities?

Beating up the biggers kids, proving I wasent weak. Spending time with my sister.

As a child,what kinds of personality traits did you display?

Violent, jealousy, stayed with family through everything, need to be accepted ( Not very open with others about why), cautious, careful ( When he nedded to be), responsible.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

Fuck no. Never been the popular type. Friends? Not really I beat kids up more than anything. They all feared me.

When and with whom was your first kiss?

I was 13 and was a girl... dont remember her name. My dad told me I needed to show interest in girls so I kissed her. Made him happy and got him off my back.

Are you a virgin? If not,when and with whom did you loose your virginity.

No definitely not a virgin... havent been in some time. I was 15 and no one knows but I said it was Angie... wasent her. Was a guy.

Part 3: past Influences

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

Meeting Caleb. Might not be a big event to others but to me it was pretty big.

Who has had the most influence on you?

My father much to my distaste but hes all I've got beside my sister with family.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Staying alive. This world we live in it's not the greatest. The strong are the ones that will survive

What is your greatest regret?

Being a pussy and not admitting my feelings. Remaining in the closet.. afraid my father will kill me if I admit what I am.

What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

Does being a pimp count? I havent killed anyone yet. Came close many times with a gun pointed at them or me beating the fuck out of them.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

Fuck yeah I do. Been in Juvie a few times... ok more than a few. What can I say I'm a bad person.

When was the time you were most frightened?

When my father was beating the shit out of me when he saw a guy kiss me. The other got the worst of it.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

Well finding out you like it up the ass is something I'd say qualifies.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

Not being such a pussy about who I am. I'd change that fact because if I did I could be with who I wanted. Yeah my dad would be coming after me but at least I'd be worth it for Caleb.

What is your best memory?

Not many good ones but meeting Caleb for the first time was... it changed me.

What is your worst memory?

Fuck... I have too many bad ones to really say which was my worst.

Part 4: Beliefs & Opinions

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?

Neither I'm a realist. I know how things are.

What is your greatest fear?

Loosing anyone close to me.

What are your religious views?

Honestly I could give less a fuck... but my family is Christian.

What are your political views?

Not like I vote so it dont fucking matter.

What are your views on sex?

Best fucking thing ever! Helps with a lot of problems. People should do it more often. Less stress, issues... it's just better for you.

Are you able to kill?

Yeah depending on the circumstances

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?

Be a pedophile, I'll fucking kill one if I see one.

Do you believe in the existance of soul mates and/ or true love?

Honestly... I dont know. I feel something with Caleb I've never felt with anyone... it's kinda scary.

What do you believe makes a successful life?

Not being a snitch, doing what your supposed to do and beating people that dont pay you like they were supposed to. It's not hard. Everyone has problems.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings?

Depends who I'm talking with. I lie all the time.. I have to so my dad dosent find out about Caleb. I tend to be violent when asked if I'm gay.. I can't help it and fuck if Caleb knew how I felt about him... I dont know what would happen.

Do you have any biases or prejudices?

If we went off what my father thinks then I would.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?

Snitch. I'm not a fucking snitch. The day I do that would have to be a fucking important reason.

Who or what,if anything, would you die for( or otherwise go to the extremes for?

Caleb aka. Carrot Top.

Part 5: Relationships w/others

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?

Depends if I know them. If I like them then they can see I'm a great guy. Of course if I dont know them and they piss me off they are going to end up bloody. In general you know me I'm a good guy, you dont know me I keep my eyes on you.

Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

Caleb... meeting him has changed my life.

Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

My sister. Shes strong and she hasent snitched on me. Thick and thin we are close and always there for one another.

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.

I dont have friends.

Do you have a spouse or significant other?

Caleb.... we arent married or anything so fuck off.

Have you ever been in love?

Yes

What do you look for in a potential lover?

Red head, batshit crazy, packing 9 inches.

How close are you to your family?

As close as I can be. We are there for one another though dads a dick.

Have you started your own family?

No

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

My family, they wouldnt leave me hanging or in trouble.

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

Myself... maybe my sister... and perhaps Caleb. Why fuck you that's why.

If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

My family and Caleb... I hope anyways.

Who is the person you despise the most, and why?

My dad. He would rather see me dead than let me be gay.

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?

Fuck no I fight with my fists, guns, anything I can get.

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

Sometimes depends on the situation.

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?

No. I like who I like and large groups are not my thing.

Do you care what others think of you?

Fuck no ( A little)

Part 6: Likes & Dislikes

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes?

Fights... to an extent.. dont really have hobbies and I mostly do things for the family.

What is your most treasured possession?

One of Caleb's jackets

What is your favorite color?

Green

What is your favorite food?

Steak

What, if anything, do you like to read?

Dont read

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs?

I do all three, helps with stress.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night?

Fuck, really depends on what's going on. Things pop up all the time.

What makes you laugh?

Caleb... he makes me laugh a lot.

What, if anything, shocks or offends you?

Being called gay... I tend to get violent. Even if it's TRUE, living with my father has made me this way.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

Go see Caleb

How do you deal with stress?

Drink, smoke, do drugs, fuck... a lot of things.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

Both

What are your pet peeves?

Girls hitting on me all the time, being my dads punching bag... yeah

Part 7: Self Image & Other

What is your greatest strength as a person?

Surviving

What is your greatest weakness?

Caleb

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

To be stronger... to tell my father who I am and live through the beating.

Are you generally introverted or extroverted?

Extroverted

Are you generally organized or messy?

Both

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.

Good: Fighting, taking care of family matters, lying ( sometimes hes terrible but he thinks hes amazing at it)

Bad: Admitting my feelings, showing how I feel... to an extent, loving others

Do you like yourself?

No

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

Get over my Dads hate for gays and come out

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

In jail

If you could choose, how would you want to die?

Protecting my loved one

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.

See Caleb, fuck, then go spend time with Mandy

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?

Being the first gay Milkovitch why the fuck not?

What three words best describe your personality?

Attractive, energetic, reliable

What three words would others probably use to describe you?

Aggressive, dangerous, dedicated

If you could, what advice would you, the mun, give to your character?

Theres nothing to be ashamed of! Be gay be whatever you want! Your perfect the way you are even with the rough edges. Your doing good but you and Mandy need to leave your father.

Tagging: @sin-of-the-father , @magicalmusesandwheretofindthem

[iatheia]

A shameless repost, from a long-deleted livejournal, originally by dybji. Based on 2005 Tsukigumi version of Elisabeth.

SCORE: *begins* LUCHENI: *stagger-sways onstage* VOICEOVER: Lucheni! Elisabeth! Hapsburgs! Murder! Anarchists! Trial! LUCHENI: No, no, no. It goes, "Trial! Delayed! Angry! Anarchist! Explanation! Death!" DEATH: *appears* AUDIENCE: *various jokes about how, indeed, he must be Death, for they have all been slain on sight* DEATH: I am here as a witness. Luigi Lucheni killed the Empress on my orders, because she loved me. VOICEOVER: I do not feel you are correct on this front, Mr. Tod. DEATH: Of course I am correct. She was too coy to say it, but I know deep down inside she wanted it. VOICEOVER: ... I think the multifaceted irony of that observation has stunned me into silence for the rest of the musical.

LUCHENI: When in doubt, rock'n'roll. Eliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisabeth! ELISABETH: *appears* PAPASABETH: In spite of the fact that I am a landed gentleman with manors, a title, and pondsful of money, I find my obligations to take part in polite society and talk to my own relatives stifling. It is unspeakably unjust, my daughter. AUDIENCE: Tell that to your serfs. ELISABETH: When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Papa! AUDIENCE: This explains so much. SOPHIE: My cough of evil clearly establishes me as a heartless political machine. INTEREST GROUPS: May we please ply our power over the Emperor, shamelessly and nearly-irrevocably tearing power away from the throne? SOPHIE: Oh yes. Please do. FRANZ-JOSEPH: ... Mother, you do realize you are not actually a heartless political machine so much as a heartless idiot, right? DEATH: Christine, I lo-o-ove you … Er, I mean, Elisabeth. Elisabeth, I love you. ELISABETH: I feel strangely fond of you, as well. And, for the benefit of all the Freudians out there, I’ll express these thoughts by reprising the song I just sang for my father! FREUDIANS: Aww, fanservice. We feel so flattered. REST OF AUDIENCE: We feel a little horrified, actually. SOPHIE: We have set up an engagement date for you, son! MAMASABETH: We have set up an engagement date for you, daughter! Elisabeth, you can come along too. FRANZ-JOSEPH: Elisabeth, your artless beauty has completely stolen my heart! ELISABETH: And that diamond necklace has stolen mine. PAPASABETH: This will not end well. SOPHIE: No, it won't. PAPASABETH: Let's sit back and watch, shall we? SOPHIE: I'll get the popcorn. DEATH: Your final dance shall be with me! I am your destiny! ELISABETH: I admit the smoldering eyes do make a good case. SOPHIE: I am a bully. FRANZ-JOSEPH: I am spineless. ELISABETH: I am in despair! DAGGER: *appears* ELISABETH: O happy dagger! Here is thy sheath! FREUDIANS: (nodding excitedly) And thereby the dagger becomes a phallic impersonation of Death! ELISABETH: What? Phal ... oh my god! *flings dagger away* DEATH: Curses. ELMER: Hungary, independence, imperialist pigs. HUNGARIANS: History! Death to Elisabeth! ELISABETH: *reveals Hungarian flag dress* I am the Scarlett O'Hara of Austro-Hungarian history. HUNGARIANS: History! Long live Elisabeth! ELMER: Curses. ELMER: I plan a retaliation. It involves a gun! DEATH: Oh, no, Elmer. Guns represent manhood, and nobody in this story gets to have a manhood except me and Lucheni. And that’s only because he’s in my employ. ELMER: That’s logical. Here, take this. I don’t need a manhood anyway, my only love is Hungary. FREUDIANS: *wipe tears of affection* DEATH: I incite the people to revolt. LUCHENI: This will have no effect on Elisabeth's future life, nor on her eventual death. You really shouldn't look so smug. DEATH: Of course I should look smug! These scenes are the ones that make the historically-inclined middle schoolers drool! Who cares if it has no bearing on the rest of the musical? LUCHENI: Good point. SOPHIE: Your kids are mine! I must raise them instead of you, as is customary in royal court! ELISABETH: I. Hate. You. FRANZ-JOSEPH: Elisabeth ... I am spineless and heart-broken ... please open the door. DEATH: Elisabeth ... I am lonely and heart-broken ... come and make out with me. ELISABETH: Both of you, please shut up. DEATH: Revolt, peasants! PEASANTS: We never actually do revolt, but damn do we look good singing about it. FRANZ-JOSEPH: I defy my mother, and prove it by stealing her trademark cough. ELISABETH: Oh, baby, that's sweet. Let’s reconcile. DEATH: ... You owe me your life, woman. ELISABETH: Don't you realize my trademark power ballad depends upon my ignoring that fact? ACT TWO LUCHENI: History, history, history. Kitsch! DEATH: History, history, history. Pope hat! ELISABETH: Shameless power ballad about when I—er, “dance.” DEATH: Sexual tension about wanting to—uh, “dance.” FREUDIANS: *look bored* REST OF AUDIENCE: *nod appreciatively* SOPHIE: I must oust this young female with her influence over Franz-Joseph. PRIEST: Because it is lessening your power at court? SOPHIE: No, because it is tearing down the Hapsburg dynasty! SOLDIER: … And you weren’t? SOPHIE: (coldly) She is tearing down the Hapsburgs in a different way than I was. SOLDIER: We hire Madame Wolf and her posse of ladies of the evening. We must explain to Franz-Joseph that there are other fish in the sea! PRIEST: Or chickens on a plate, as it were. MADAME WOLF: Ha, I like that. I shall use that metaphor as the basis of my pimp song. FRANZ-JOSEPH: I am moved by the clever metaphors of your pimp song and the mermadian looks of Shirosaki Ai. LUCHENI: I can hardly blame you, sir. Say cheese! ELISABETH: I do not have anorexia! ELISABETH: *collapses* Fine, I do have anorexia, but it’s totally under control! DR. ZABLE: This is in an effort to keep the Emperor interested, isn’t it? You should probably know, he’s cheating on you. ELISABETH: He is most certainly not! PHOTOGRAPH: *appears* ELISABETH: Curses. ELISABETH: … I … I don’t know what to do. DR. ZABLE, shockingly revealing himself to be DEATH: Shineba ii! ELISABETH: No. DEATH: I don’t understand how you consistently fail to follow the impeccably logical solutions I am always presenting to you. DEATH: *taunts Elisabeth with dagger* ELISABETH: *reaches out hopelessly, yearning for dagger* DEATH: *fondles dagger himself* FREUDIANS: *inhale* REST OF AUDIENCE: Say one word and we will cut you. Ayana Oto as YOUNG RUDOLF: Angst! DEATH: Inappropriate touching! AUDIENCE: And so was the infamous red dress foretold. RUDOLF: Visions of greatness, including the overthrow of his father while rushing to Elisabeth’s embrace— FREUDIANS: *inhale* REST OF AUDIENCE: Yeah, no, we got that one. Don’t bother. WINDISCH: I’m in a madhouse, I wear white, I have delusions of being someone I’m not! ELISABETH: Oh, young lady, I would change places with you. THE GHOST OF WILKIE COLLINS’ WOMAN IN WHITE: … You could, you know. ELISABETH: My life has nothing, nothing! LUCHENI: Except paparazzic opportunities for me. ELISABETH: Curses. RUDOLF: Contemplates suicide. DEATH: Contributes ideas for this contemplation. RUDOLF: Revolts! REVOLT: Fails! ELISABETH: Returns! RUDOLF: We’re so alike, Mama. You shun all responsibilities and want to belong only to yourself, I am lonely and want to stop belonging only to myself. Also I try to fix this country’s problems in an effort ostensibly to help the country, rather than to prove to Death I don’t need him. We are perfect mirror images! ELISABETH: … Rudolf, my boy, I think you’re a couple NTs short of a synapse on that one. RUDOLF: What? My logic is impeccable! DEATH: Hey, honey, why don’t you ditch the old lady and come with me? RUDOLF: No, that sounds like a really bad ide—wow, you’ve got smolderingly gorgeous eyes, sir. DEATH: And lustrous hair. And pouty lips. And a mighty gun— RUDOLF: Well, that’s that! I can’t possibly be expected to resist you with your pouty lips and mighty gun! ELISABETH: … Rudolf? Rudolf? CRICKETS: Chirp. ELISABETH: … You made out with my son? You crazy freak, why would you— DEATH: (eagerly) Are you jealous? You’re jealous, aren’t you! Come on, admit it, I’ll still take you, you and Rudolf can be in my harem— ELISABETH: I can be with Rudolf if I die? Oh, do take me now! DEATH: … You are one incestuously-inclined family, you know that? FRANZ-JOSEPH: I reappear. Oh, Elisabeth— ELISABETH: No, stay away, please. I’ve had just about enough of having people sing that name out to me. FRANZ-JOSEPH: I can change, baby, I promise— ELISABETH: We are as two ships in the night GOOD DAY, SIR. FRANZ-JOSEPH: *dies* DEATH: Lucheni, I am entrusting you with my mighty dagger. You know what this means. LUCHENI: … Actually, I think I’m completely overloading on the innuendos at this point. FREUDIANS: *have been gagged by rest of audience* LUCHENI: Come on, this one’s really ambiguous. Couldn’t you just let them explain— REST OF AUDIENCE: No. DEATH: Don’t worry, Lucheni, it doesn’t mean you’ll have to do anything questionable with imperialist pig-dogs. You just need to kill Elisabeth. FRANZ-JOSEPH: She doesn’t love you, you great poof! DEATH: That’s it, you’re getting buried in anthropomorphized sheet-people now. Furthermore, I am Death, obviously I’m bisexual. And heterosexually lesbian at the same time. ... It’s pretty complicated, actually. DEATH: (afterthought) And also, she totally loves me. Imperialist pig-dog. LUCHENI: *Fails to stab Elisabeth.* DEATH: *appears* ELISABETH: O happy dagger! Here is thy sheath! No, for real this time. LUCHENI: Grande amore! DEATH: Crossing the deep waters of Styx together, la la la. ELISABETH: No more tears and suffering, la la la. TRIAL FOR LUCHENI: *apparently, remains in limbo* LUCHENI: Curses.

[oskarwing]

Ever since I saw you in that crap car, I couldn’t stop thinking about you

Work at Bobby’s garage is great. He's surrounded by cars of different varieties and he has all the money he needs and then some to send to Sam every month.

Of course, little brother doesn't like that at all. Dean stopped counting all the times Sammy explained to him that he doesn't need the money because he has a scholarship and a job which makes enough money. Dean’s always brushing that off. Sam’s in college and college kids should get financially supported by their families (“By their parents, Dean. Not their siblings.”) and Dean is the only family Sam has left so, of course, he'll take care of it, like he’s always been taking care of Sammy.

Also, it wasn't long until Sam was a rich lawyer anyway. Then Dean would be able to use the money for himself, maybe buy a TV rather than watch every show or movie on the laptop Sam had gotten him for Christmas once even though he had told him that he didn't really need anything like that. It’s pretty neat though and Dean gets himself a Netflix subscription every time he has a vacation. He still thinks Sammy shouldn't have bought him the thing. He can use his phone the same way after all. But Sam had told him to shut up and accept a good thing for once. At the end that was what Dean did but only if Sammy also accept the nice things he was giving him, meaning the money every month.

Which is why he is so glad that Bobby is providing him work at the garage. It isn't only a way to get money but also work he really enjoys. He always loved cars and working on them is great. Maybe it isn't his dream job exactly but he never really had one in the first place he thinks. So working at Bobby’s is good enough.

One thing that is also amazing is learning about all these elderly car owners who always come in with a history lesson on their cars. It’s a lot of fun giving old Mrs. Ransom's well kept VW beetle - which she’d been driving since it was a new car - an oil change and listening to all the adventures she’d had in it. “Back then it meant huge independence for me, you know?” she tells him this afternoon. “I bought it from the money I made at my first job, after I saved up on it for a bit and I wouldn’t have given up on it for anything. Not even for my husband, who thought we didn’t need two cars and wanted to just keep his. But you have to understand that this car is mine. In every way you know? I wouldn’t give it up for anything. His car broke really soon after we fought about it anyway, so we kept mine… he cursed about it until the day he died… oh honey, I’m sorry I’ve been talking your ear off again haven’t I?”

Dean shakes his head. “It’s okay Ma’am, you know I love listening to you talking about the good old times while I’m working.” The old lady smiles. “And what a good listener you are,” she tells him and when she pays she gives him fifteen dollars more than she needs to and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Buy something nice for yourself for it. Or for someone special, okay?” she tells him in a tone that says he better accept the money. And he does. He thinks about using it as a way to buy a nice birthday present for Sam, spring is coming fast now and with spring Sam's birthday in early May isn't that far off.

Maybe he can buy Sammy a new phone if he starts saving money for it now. He knows his little brother has problems with his old one at the moment. So, a phone is a good investment he guesses.

While he's still thinking about what to do with the money he hears a new car arrive. The motor is rattling and the car is already sounding bad. It’s even worse when he sees it. It wasn’t a nice car, to begin with, Dean thinks but whoever the owner is must not give a care about the poor thing because it’s not only dirty and clearly not cared for very well it’s also full of scratches and the varnish (a pale brown as far as he can tell) is flaking giving a free sight onto rusting metal. There are also a few big dents in the car and Dean starts to think about what kind of accident could have caused these.

He walks over to the crab car to tell the owner that this is not a junkyard and he doesn’t think they’ll be able to fix that rolling catastrophe, biting his lip as he moves towards it. The car door opens slowly and the driver gets out of the car. Dean stops on his way.

This guy is definitely not who he expected. What he expected was some kind of slimy pimp type who looked like he didn’t care about his hygiene just as well as he did about his car. The guy getting out of the car doesn’t look like that at all. He’s light-skinned with messy dark hair, wearing a beige trench coat over a suit and he’s very attractive as well.

He looks at Dean. “Hello. Do you work here?” he asks him. Dean nods, not wanting to tell the car owner off anymore. “I… I think there’s something wrong with my car.” He thinks? There’s no possible way anyone could think that there was anything right with that car. “Uh seems like it,” Dean says. “That’s why people normally come here. What’s your problem?” “There’s some kind of rattling going on in the motor and sometimes it just stops while I’m on the road.”

“Alright. Understood.” He probably won’t get any more out of the guy, he really doesn’t seem to know much about cars. Or anything really.

“I’ll look into the motor and we’ll see what we can do with it…” he tells the car owner and the man looks relieved. “Thank you,” he says. “I was in four garages already and I was rejected every time… they said I wouldn’t be able to find a place that would fix my car.” “I mean…” Dean sighs. “Look, I can’t promise you any miracles. She does look like she’s been through a lot. But I can try.”

The stranger nods and then frowns a little. “Did you just call my car a she?” he asks. “Uh… yeah, I do that…” Dean bites his tongue. “I… uhm do that with most cars.” “Oh, I understand,” the man says, though he looks like he doesn’t understand at all. “Are all cars females to you then?” “No, I mean… there are male cars too,” he says. Mrs. Ransom’s beetle for example. That’s a male car. “And how do you choose that?” “I dunno. Just comes to me I guess,” Dean shrugs and laughs awkwardly. “My car’s a girl definitely and she’s a good one too.”

Now the stranger is smiling a little. “Can you tell me when it’ll be done?” “I dunno… it really depends on what state it’s in but I’d say at least a few weeks up to a month.” The stranger breathes out deeply. “I mean first I have to look into the motor like I said. Then we’ll know what’s going on really.” “Okay,” the man says and watches Dean expectantly.

He gets to work trying to ignore the way this guy is staring at him while he tests everything. “Alright. I think I need to exchange some things get everything working again but I mean it should take me a month and a half if I can work quickly,” he explains finally The man smiles widely. “Thank you…” Dean grins. “Do you want me to take care of your girl's appearance as well?” He nods. “Will that take longer?” he asks. “Maybe a day or two,” Dean says. “Alright,” the attractive car owner with the unattractive car is okay with getting a slightly more attractive car. Great. “The same color?” Dean asks. “Yes.

Dean nods and takes him to the office so they can discuss payment and make the thing official and he may or may not have been very interested in the name of his new customer (Castiel Novak that's not a name you come by every day) and he tells him he'll call as soon as the car is fixed. Castiel nods and the deal is done. He thanks Dean again for taking care of the car catastrophe and then he's gone.

Now it'll take until Dean fixes the car until he will see him again.

Dean works on the car for the next few weeks. Bobby doesn't really mind it because Castiel's car is the only big thing they got at the moment.

So Dean got a lot of time to spend under and around it thinking about the owner. What a guy. Really. Good looking and nice with just enough weirdness about him to peak Dean's interest without scaring him away. He hums softly while he works and tries to imagine what kinda guy Castiel is. What kind of job does he have? Or is he still in college? He looked young enough to be. When he gets home what is the first thing he does? What is the last thing he does? Does he sometimes think about the awkward mechanic fixing his car? Probably only when he wants to know how long it will take until the car is finally done.

Dean isn’t getting false hopes. He’s merely this guy's car-fixer. Just a secondary character in his life, probably not even that. He probably doesn’t even remember his face. Dean normally wouldn't either but the guy is just something to remember.

Especially his eyes. Gosh. His eyes were wonderful. Dean had only noticed them once he was near the guy. They were a deep blue and he really thought they were amazingly good looking.

This is how Dean spends most of his days for the next few weeks while Bobby works on the other cars that come in sometimes. Dean’s actually getting the car fixed a lot quicker than he thought he would. He has to wait for over a day before he gets the spare parts but when they arrive Dean is back at work every day on Castiel’s car.

One day Bobby calls him out on it. “Boy, you’ve always been a hard-working son of a bitch but you’ve been working on that damned car like a mad man,” Bobby says and looks at him. “You could almost believe it was your own. We both know that it has maybe a few more months to go at best if the owner keeps his attitude towards taking care of it which is obviously none existing.” Dean shrugs. “I guess I really just want to get it done.” “Why did you even accept to fix this thing?” Bobby asks him gruffly. Dean shrugs again. “I dunno…” Bobby eyes him. “Was it the owner?” Dean looks away embarrassed at how easily his employer can read him. “Idjit,” Bobby says but that’s the last thing Dean hears of that discussion.

Dean’s done with the car a week before he told Castiel he would be. He calls him the day after he’s done with his work. “Hello?” the deep voice he remembers so well asks. “Hey Ca… Mr. Novak,” he says feeling his cheeks burning. He’s been calling him Castiel in his head the whole time but he needs to be professional now. “It’s Dean Winchester from Singer’s Garage? Your car is done.” “Already?” Castiel sounds excited. “Yes,” Dean says. “You can pick it up as soon as you have time.” “Oh! That’s great, thank you!” “It’s my job,” Dean says.

Castiel comes to pick up the car the next day. He drives the car to test it (after Dean suggested it) and tells Dean that it’s driving better than when he bought it. Dean doesn’t really find it hard to believe that.

Castiel gives him the pay and just like Mrs. Ransom before adds a few dollars more than he needs to. Dean thanks him and waves when he drives away, thinking about the fact that he probably won’t ever see this attractive and interesting customer again.

At the end of April Dean has enough money to buy Sammy a new phone. He’s been working even harder after Castiel left the car behind trying to get the money together before the 2nd of May. 

It’s Mrs. Ransom again who hands him the last few dollars for it. She looks at him questioning. “Are you alright, honey?” He nods. “Yeah…” “Are you sure? You look a little pale,” she tells him. “Yeah, just been working a lot since February,” he shrugs. “Oh is Mr. Singer working you too hard?” she sounds almost angry when she says that. “No, he isn’t… I’ve been just working so I’ll have enough money for my brother’s birthday,” Dean explains. That makes Mrs. Ransom brighten up again. “Oh, sweetie, that’s so nice of you…” She reaches into her pocket and presses fifty dollars into his hands even though she already paid him. “So, this money is for your brother’s birthday but I also want you to use a part of it for yourself, alright?” “Okay,” Dean promises.

So now he’s buying the phone for Sam. Hoping he’ll like it. Dean looks over the smartphones displayed thinking about which one Sam would like the most.

He’s picked out three models when somebody taps his shoulder. Dean turns around and almost drops the phone he’s been looking at when he sees the big blue eyes. He’s been thinking about these eyes while he was fixing the car belonging to the person with these eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says and smiles at him softly. “Look Gabriel this is the mechanic who fixed my car,” he tells a small man behind him. Gabriel grins at Dean and wings. “You did a really good job with that car.” “Thanks,” Dean says and grins but looks at his shoes otherwise. “You know what, Cassie, I gotta go and look at those washing machines again...” Gabriel excuses himself. “Oh, alright,” Castiel watches as Gabriel leaves them there. When he’s gone he smiles at Dean again. “I wanted to thank you for the work you did with my car,” he tells him. “It drives amazingly now.” “That’s awesome,” Dean says and grins. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.” Castiel’s eyes get bigger. “Of course I’ll remember you,” he tells him and smiles. “Well, I’m glad your car is working again…” Dean says again. “Me too. Your work was amazing,” he says when he looks at his feet. “I… I actually wanted to ask you a question.” “Yeah?” “Would you maybe like to see me from outside of fixing my car? Like… like on a date?” Dean feels himself blush. “I’d like that.”

In the end, he does use a part of Mrs. Ransom’s money for himself after Sam’s birthday passed.  Well for a dinner at least. They eat at an awesome Italian place and they talk for a long time. Dean feels butterflies in his stomach flying loopings. They’re talking about what a great thing it is that they were both in the store and that Cas had recognized him and the courage to walk up to him. “What about you? Did you immediately remember me?” “Yeah…” Dean says and blushes. “I… I actually couldn’t stop thinking about you since I saw you in your car…” Castiel smiles at him and grins a little. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. I just wanted to get my car fixed and then I saw you and… I’m guessing sometimes these things just happen.” “I guess so. We gotta thank your car for this.” “Yes, thank god it was so broken.” Dean laughs and looks over at him. “I mean… you gotta take better care of her though. Or she’ll break worse very soon.”

Only a year later Dean’s taking care of Cas’ new car in their driveway.

[shirtlesssammy]

14x07: Unhuman Business

Then:

LaLaLa, this is not happening, LaLaLa

Now:

Uh, something seems to be wrong with my TV. Just Lucifer Nick blabbering on about his family and his regret for killing people that won’t help him find who killed his family.

At the bunker, Jack is not doing great, guys. Cas is attempting to heal him, but whatever is wrong with Jack is beyond his angel powers.

As the boys discuss their impossible situation, Jack falls to the floor, coughing blood and foaming at the mouth. They rush him to the hospital ASAP. 

Worried Dad Dean is HIGH MAINTENANCE, but I’ll forgive his overbearing ways. Jack is in deep trouble. First, the hospital just needs some basic data, like name and date of birth, both of which the Winchesters fumble on. Jack’s a Winchester you doofs! And I guess Jack is 18. And his dad exploded. Jack then collapses and the medical staff rush him to a room, Sam, Dean, and Cas by his side. 

(That framing tho)

God, my TV buzzed out again. Please stand by while I figure out WHY WE SHOULD CARE ABOUT NICK. He talks to a reporter and learns there was a cop, Frank Kellogg, who was patrolling Nick’s neighborhood the night his family died.

At the hospital, Jack’s tests results all came back negative. They’re going to have to run more tests. (Lol, I love how all of this is put in the vaguest way possible. Like not all tests are positive or negative, and what are they testing for?) The one thing they do know: His body is in complete systemic shutdown. (I read on Twitter the friendly reminder that you’re not a real hunter until you’ve died and come back again. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.)

The brothers decide it’s time to explore other options: Rowena. Dean suggests calling her. Sam already did. (Samwitch! --my Saileen heart hates me every time I goof about this) (Natasha: SAME) The doctor walks in on the boys dressing Jack to leave. AND LET ME JUST FALL INTO A PIT OF EMOTION watching Cas put his coat on Jack.

ROWENA arrives as fast as she can (like, oof, there isn’t anything in this for her. She just showed up to help the Winchesters? Guh.) She thinks Dean is in trouble, but Sam reveals it’s really Jack, Lucifer’s son. Rowena’s out. Before she bolts though, Jack works his magic nougat ways.

Rowena breaks the bad news that without Jack’s grace, his nephilim body can’t sustain itself. Cas offers up his own grace to save him. I’M NOT CRYING, YOU’RE CRYING! As Ro is nixing that idea, Dean’s vision starts to blur and his hearing warbles in and out. 

Not sure what was happening in this next Nick scene. He’s weird around a woman in an alley. She invites him back into the bar (WHY?) (Natasha: WHYYYYYYYY?) and then he secretly pulls a knife. In a brief moment of clarity, he yells at her to get away and she runs. And for the record: the giant neon S stands for Satan.

At the bunker, Overprotective Dean brings Jack a sandwich and milk. PURE. Jack is packing up and ready to hit the road, live a little before he dies. I’M NOT DYING, YOU’RE DYING.

Dean gets some serious dimples of discontent after listening to Jack but he’s not disagreeing with the boy.

Sam and Cas AND Rowena are on the research train. Cas presides over a mountain of books while Rowena and Sam call everyone they think might be able to help the poor young wee nephilim.

Dean gets the updates. The books are a bust, but Sam talked to Ketch, who has tipped them off about a shaman who might help. Dean takes all this in...maybe? In actuality, Dean wavers in and out of focus again. Oh, Dean Bean. Cas offers to tackle the shaman lead and the Winchesters can stay behind to look out for Jack. Enter Jack, with backpack, ready for adventure! Dean and Jack are heading out, to Castiel’s disapproval.

A little while later, Dean and Jack pick up some burgers and Dean tosses Baby’s keys to wee Jack. It’s driving lesson time! There’s so much wrapped up in this scene: Dean’s stunted childhood, his incredible capacity to nurture, Jack’s hero worship. MY HEART is wrapped up in this scene. They ease out on the road and Jack gains confidence quickly.

Dean turns on some tunes and BTO’s “Let it ride” sets the mood. Classic rock is such an important aspect of this show, and we didn’t realize how much we missed it as a set piece until this scene of open road driving.

(I’ll confess that I spent the first viewing of this scene ready for Jack to pass out and the car to careen dramatically off the road. I’m glad it didn’t.)

Cas heads out to find Sergei the shaman but before he goes, he talks with Sam about Dean’s reaction to Jack’s illness. “He seems to be taking this particularly hard,” Castiel observes. Sam tells him that Dean feels bad for the time he spent wishing Jack a swift and painful death at the beginning of last season.

Heartbreaking dialogue alert:

Sam: He’s lost people. We’ve all lost people but…

Cas: This feels different. Losing a son feels different.

But stow away those emotions, friends, because it’s time to go back to fun!Dad Dean. They’re eating more fast food, pulled over on the side of the road. “I’m a driver!” Jack announces gleefully. Yes, bby. Dean suggests a bar with promising hook-up potential. (Me: flashes back to Dean’s “Last night on Earth” speech with Cas back in season 4...and like, all of season 3.) Jack’s got other plans.

Nick finds Frank Kellogg, brings up the bare facts of his case, and then pushes Frank inside and holds him by the throat. Time to chat.

By a tumbling, small river, Jack gets into Dean’s deepest emotions like he’s ordering an ice cream shake at a diner. While they fish, Jack casually brings up that Dean and his father went fishing and that it was one of Dean’s happiest memories of him. Dean tries to dissemble, but Jack’s sure as a rock. (Now, there’s been some discussion about whether this was meant to refer to John or Bobby. My vote’s heavily on John. Dean loved his father, was disappointed by him, and longed for many things he could never have at the same time. Fishing with John Winchester was probably a shocking circle of calm - a pool of stillness and peace.)

Jack tells Dean that he wouldn’t miss the big, showy things in the world. Instead, he’d miss more time with Dean and the other people in his life.

Dean BARELY holds it together, a quaver in his voice as he returns, “Who’d’ve thought time with me would make you sentimental?” Dean. Bean.

Meanwhile, Cas drives his adorable blue car to meet Sergei the shaman. He’s immediately enveloped in a circle of holy fire. Thanks, buddy.

Sergei lives in a pimped out trailer, with flowers painted on the exterior and lushly colored and patterned textiles draped all over the interior. He proposes a “recharging agent” for Jack - something to shock his system and derail the degeneration. He offers Cas archangel grace (purportedly from Gabriel) and a spell to activate it. And the cost is simply that the Winchesters will owe him a favor. Sounds like a hell of a price to me.

Meanwhile Nick beats the shit out of Frank Kellogg. We learn that Nick’s neighbor saw Frank leave his house the night of the murders and the cops made him cover it up. Frank confesses that he met a man named Abraxis outside of Nick’s house and the next thing he knew, he was covered in blood. Frank was possessed by a demon which is some crazy ass shit, right? Sigh. Nick kills Frank horribly anyway, in a scene that goes on for WAY too long.

WAY the fuck too long.

In a giant breath of fresh air, we get back to the bunker, once again full of TFW 2.0 and Rowena Our Queen. They hand Jack the grace and it enters his body as Rowena chants the spell. Lights flicker. Jack’s eyes glow golden again. It’s worked!

Jack stumbles and falls again, worse than before.

Cas chews out Sergei via phone call and Sergei defends himself by saying that “science is sometimes trial and error.” It’s...awfully reminiscent of Michael’s experimentation, yes? It also reminds me of real world experimental parallels - now and throughout history. In a word: yikes.

Side note: Having once had a loved one’s body try to shut down in the ICU with no discernible cause...this episode really did hit home for me. It’s so easy in fiction to have a magical healing ability, and so much harder when there’s no explanation, no quick cure, and treatments that have your doctors crossing their fingers. I feel for all these dudes, and the doctors as well, is what I’m saying.

Anyway, Cas is pissed, and vows to smite Sergei’s ass if Jack dies.

For Vengeful Science

At Frank’s house, Nick prays to Lucifer and begs him to come back. In the blackness of the Empty, what looks like the Empty entity morphs into being and its eyes glow Lucifer-red. Well, fuck. (I’m actually excited to see the Empty again, but I am quite displeased about Lucifer.)

In the bunker, TFW mourns Jack’s rapidly failing condition. Rowena counsels them to stay by his side, for death approaches on swift wings.

Root Beer Quotes:

He’s sick, his name is Jack Kline, his father exploded.

Samuel, I thought we were beyond this.

Well, if it’s grace he needs, he can have mine.

Eyes on the road.

This is the best day ever!!!

Born with a wheel in your hand, huh?

Life isn’t all these big, amazing moments. It’s time together that matters.

Life - all of it - is a risk.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

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Star Trek Episode 1.6: Mudd’s Women

AKA: This Is Your Brain On Venus Drugs

CONTENT WARNING: This episode contains scenes depicting an emotionally abusive relationship (sort of a proto-relationship, technically), involving one person insulting and eventually screaming in the face of another, which is very briefly described in this recap.

Alright, you remember back in Where No Man Has Gone Before when I said that that script was one of three that NBC was presented with to choose from for the second pilot? Well, this is one of the other two. It was not chosen then because the executives didn’t really like the idea of kicking off their new sci-fi show with an episode about a space pimp. Sorry, that’s a bit of inaccurate language on my part. They phrased it as ‘intergalactic pimp.’ 

And really, who can blame them for not liking this one? If I’d been one of those executives back then, I would have thrown this episode out too. Out a window, preferably.

But Roddenberry was never one to be deterred by questions like “are you sure this is appropriate for television” or “are you sure this is appropriate for anything really” or “why, Gene, why” so once the show was underway he pulled out the script again and got to filming. The results...well, they’re not pretty. But here we are.

Our episode begins with the Enterprise chasing down some random tiny unidentified ship that's running away from them. I dunno if they have a reason for going after this ship or if they just saw it fleeing and instinctively chased after it like a cat. Anyway, the Enterprise isn't having any trouble (for once) but the other ship is overtaxing its engines to dangerous levels. They also aren't responding to any of Uhura's hails. Incidentally, Uhura's wearing gold this episode. The Doylist reason for this is that this was one of the first episodes filmed (only the second, following the pilots) and they were still working things out (I guess ‘who wears what uniform’ wasn’t a priority in the design stage). But I like to think that Uhura just showed up in a Command uniform one day and was like, “Aw yeah, I'm taking control of this operation.”

[ID: Uhura sitting at her console, wearing a gold Command uniform.]

Rockin' it.

The two ships enter an asteroid field. The Enterprise is okay, but the little ship isn't; it's finally blown out its engines and can't use its deflectors. In real life, the asteroid belt we know of is so incredibly spread out, and has such a low total mass, that you'd have to be trying to hit something while flying through it. But who has time for real life, eh? Kirk orders Farrell at navigation to cover the ship with the Enterprise's own deflectors, even though Scotty says that will overload their engines. Kirk has them do it anyway. Of course he does.

After the titles, sure enough, the (di)lithium crystals are going one after the other, because someone didn't listen to Scotty. Scotty and Spock are trying to beam the crew of the other vessel aboard, but they're having trouble, until the ship finally sends out a distress signal at the last minute and they're able to get locked onto something. They beam aboard a man who has what I can only describe as an extremely singular sense of fashion.

[ID: A man with a handlebar mustache, a cowboy hat, a single earring, beaded blue pants, a frilly orange shirt open to the navel with a black shirt under it and a giant belt with one enormous belt buckle.]

The man introduces himself as Leo Walsh, and says there are three remaining members of his crew. He's very casual about the fact that said crew is on a ship that is blowing up faster than a marshmallow in a microwave. Meanwhile, yet another crystal has blown, leaving them on battery power. Scotty's having trouble with the transporter. Can't imagine why.

The little ship that couldn't finally goes, first being hit by an asteroid and then blowing up, but Scotty gets the remaining crew onboard in time. They turn out to be three women: one in a red dress, one in a green dress, and one in a purple...sweater...thing. The women stare seductively at the men. McCoy and Scotty stare back, transfixed. Spock looks confused. I feel ya, Spock.

After several tries, Kirk finally gets through to Scotty, and tells him to send the captain to Kirk's quarters if he can walk, and if he can't walk, send him anyway. Spock leads Walsh and the women down the corridor, and along the way everyone stops and stares at them. In the turbolift, Walsh deduces that Spock is part Vulcanian (yes, Vulcanian, they hadn't figured that one out yet either). I dunno how he figured that out since Spock is physically indistinguishable from a full Vulcan (or Vulcanian) but he does. Maybe they originally planned for full Vulcans to look more alien, I dunno. Anyway, Walsh takes that to be the reason why Spock is the only one not affected by these stunningly seductive sirens. You know how it goes, you don’t show conventional attraction, someone goes “oh, you must be an alien” only in this case it’s literal. Unsurprisingly, the same does not turn out to be the case for Kirk, who is obviously extremely taken aback when the three women and their swelling background music walk into his cabin.

Kirk is introduced to Walsh and asks if the women are his crew. No, Walsh says. They're his cargo. Um.

After the break Kirk gives a captain's log about how seriously distracting these women are and sends them out of his cabin so he can concentrate. Spock, meanwhile, may not be affected by the strange “magnetic effect” the women have, but he is clearly highly amused by all this.

[ID: Spock leaning against a doorway with his arms crossed, head tilted, eyebrows raised, and generally just looking extremely sassy. Offscreen, Kirk is saying, “...on the male members of my crew...” ]

Walsh explains to Kirk that he only evaded the Enterprise because hey, you're flying a tiny little cargo ship, giant armed starship pulls up alongside you, what are you going to do. Not run away? That’s ridiculous. Kirk isn't interested in this explanation, though, and tells Walsh that he's convening a hearing on his actions and in the meantime he'll be confined to quarters. Although first we have to find some quarters, presumably.

On the bridge, Sulu and Farrell are going on about how compelling the women are, but Scotty's distracted by his one true love: the Enterprise. Specifically, that she's in pretty bad shape: they lost two crystals and the last remaining one is cracked, and they can't fix it because, uh, they broke something else. Honestly, the amount of times this happens, you'd think they'd start keeping spare crystals onboard.

Walsh meets up with the women in a briefing room, under the watchful eyes of two redshirts who are thankfully managing to still do their jobs, unlike most of the men in this episode. The women are freaking out, pointing out that they lost their ship, they're going in the wrong direction, and now they're on trial, and what are they going to do? Walsh tries to calm them down while clumsily trying to avoid saying anything too suspicious in earshot of the security guards. In particular he tells the women not to submit to any medical checks, and cuts one of them off when she asks, “But what about the--” Then another one calls him Harry. Whoops.

Scotty explains the dire engine situation to Kirk, bitterly bemoaning that Walsh not only destroyed his own ship but screwed up the Enterprise too. He even calls Walsh a jackass. Wow, language, Scotty. You can’t swear like that in the 60s. Even if it’s the Future 60s.

So with only one crystal left, and that one with a limited lifespan since it's channeling the entire ship's power on its own, they've got no choice but to go to a nearby mining facility and pick up some more crystals. Again. It's a good thing there are so many mining facilities scattered around the galaxy for the Enterprise to plunder. At least we don't have any irritating godlike beings that we have to abandon on this one. Although there’s an irritating regular being aboard that I’m sure Kirk would be pretty eager to abandon somewhere.

In the meantime, Kirk gets the hearing underway, though not before taking a moment to complain about the hypnotic effect the women are having on all the men. He doesn't do anything about it, though (you'd think he could put bags over their heads or something, I dunno), and naturally the hearing board is comprised entirely of men. Well, at least we've got Spock here.

Spock starts up the magic computer and tells Walsh to state his name for the record. But when he does, the computer says that's incorrect. See? I told you it was magic. Under pressure, Walsh finally reveals that his real full name is Harcourt Fenton Mudd. Which is pretty great, I dunno why you'd keep that hidden. Aside from all the criminal charges. Mudd insists he doesn't have any past offenses, but the computer says that's also incorrect, and brings up a police report. Apparently he's been convicted of smuggling, transport of stolen goods, and purchase of a vessel with counterfeit currency. And his sentence was...psychiatric treatment. Wow. I bet that went well.

Kirk says Mudd is charged with piloting a ship without a flight plan or identification beam and failing to answer a starship's signal, which makes him a menace to navigation. Also he was traveling without a license. Mudd says that the real Leo Walsh was going to be the captain of the ship, but he died suddenly (hmm) and Mudd was forced to take the ship out himself. And assumed Walsh's name as a courtesy to him. That's...a pretty weird way of paying your respects.

While all this is going on, the women are distracting the men by dialing up the seduction. This is one of those instances where the medium is kind of working against itself. It's an awful lot easier to write that a woman is supernaturally, hypnotically beautiful than to show that on screen with a regular human woman in some makeup. I mean, there's just only so much you can do with a soft focus.

Kirk asks Mudd what exactly it was that he was doing anyway, and Mudd reveals that he recruits wives for settlers. In other words, he's essentially running a mail-order bride company. Well, I doubt that it's any kind of legitimate company, but you get my drift.

The impetus for this whole thing is that Star Trek was conceived as a space western (wagon train to the stars!), and settlers in the wild west advertising for wives to come join them was a common thing, so they were playing off that. Apparently at no point did it occur to anybody that wholesale transplanting societal elements of the wild west into a space show taking place in the ENLIGHTENED FUTURE was not, perhaps, the best idea. So we get...this whole thing, and trust me, it only gets worse as the episode goes on.

No one really reacts to this revelation very much, although that's perhaps not surprising considering no one really reacted to Mudd referring to the women as his cargo earlier. Kirk asks the magic computer for information on the women. It doesn't have any, so he asks it to turn the sensor probe on them. The computer says it doesn't get anything from the women, but then it goes on to volunteer the information that the male crew members are all showing signs of, well, arousal. Seriously, it just says this entirely of its own volition. That is one passive-aggressive computer.

Kirk finally gets around to asking if the women are here voluntarily, and Mudd says of course they are—and this time the magic computer doesn't contradict him so he's probably telling the truth. We also finally get some names for them: Ruth in the green dress, Eve in the red dress, and Magda in the purple thing. Eve talks about how they all came from planets with no, or very few, men, and she personally had a miserable existence keeping house for her two brothers with little more than automated farm machines for company. And that does sound pretty rough! So instead, they're going to...go keep house for husbands on frontier planets with little more than automated machines for company. But that's better, because, uh...something. Eve at least does call the guys out on spending the entire episode ogling the three of them, but it's not going to get much better.

Kirk plans to hand Mudd over to the authorities for illegally operating a vessel. The women aren't being charged, but they're kinda stuck and not getting where they want to go. Eve begs Kirk to help them, but he puts her off (and addresses her by her last name, although that was never brought up—evidence grows for Kirk being able to read minds) and then gets distracted by the last crystal blowing out. So now they're running entirely on battery power. Great.

Mudd sees this as a golden opportunity, because now he has new husbands to offer the women: the miners that they're going to see on Rigel-12. The miners are lonely and isolated and, apparently, quite rich, so Mudd sees them as prime candidates. He exults to the women about how rich they're going to be, and says that he is going to be running the Enterprise and Kirk will soon be taking orders from him. I...don't know how he plans to accomplish that, but he seems pretty confident.

Kirk has Mudd confined to his quarters, but the women are free to roam around the ship seducing the men. Only men are mentioned: all of the men are affected, and none of the women are. Because here on the Enterprise we only have straight people, apparently.

Ruth stops by Sickbay to pester McCoy, not that he's real upset about this. As she walks by one of the scanners, it wigs out and starts beeping and flashing dots. Like Scotty and his warp engines, if there's one thing that can distract McCoy under any circumstances it's medicine, so his attention is quickly drawn to that and he asks Ruth to walk by it again. She does, and it does the same thing. McCoy says it's not supposed to do that. Well I would hope not, because it's not very helpful. He asks if she's wearing some weird perfume or anything radioactive. “Ah, yes, my uranium necklace, I forgot about that.”

With that mystery unresolved, Kirk walks into his quarters to find Eve stretched out on his bed. Seriously people, put some locks on your doors or something. Eve says she was taking a walk but had to find a place to duck into because all the men were staring at her. Which would make me want to hide too, but not in the captain's quarters. Anyway, Kirk and Eve have some typical Star Trek cheesy romantic dialogue, but it takes an unexpected turn when Eve suddenly pulls away and declares that she can't do this, no matter what Mudd says, and she hates the whole thing. Then she storms off, leaving Kirk looking pretty perplexed, since this is not how these things usually go for him.

Mudd is gathering intel from Magda and Ruth, who between them have found out that there are three miners on Rigel-12, that they're all young and healthy, and that their leader is named Ben Childress. Mudd's pretty happy with his plans so far, but then Eve comes in and starts to chew him out. She doesn't get very far, though, stricken with some sudden affliction that has her leaning against the wall and moaning about how it must be near the time. Oh my god, they're werewolves! Nah, probably not. That would actually be interesting.

Up on the bridge, Kirk is getting irritated at having to deal with his seriously distracted crew. He asks if McCoy examined Eve, but McCoy says she refused. Which surprises Kirk, because it's not like McCoy usually lets that stop him. The two of them have a conversation about the mysterious women, with McCoy wondering if they really are actually that beautiful or if there's something else going on. He briefly considers the possibility that they might be “alien illusions.” Keep in mind this was only the third episode filmed, so it's pretty impressive that the characters have already started to identify what will be running themes in their lives.

Anyway, for now McCoy doesn't manage to do anything but confuse both Kirk and himself. Meanwhile, Magda has acquired a communicator, which Mudd uses to contact Rigel-12. Speaking of Rigel-12, the Enterprise has finally reached it, but Spock says they can only sustain their orbit for three days. I feel like that's not how orbits work, but what do I know.

In Mudd's cabin, he's frantically searching for something in a chest of drawers, while the women look on desperately, for you see, they are becoming...less attractive. Well, kind of. Ruth looks a bit haggard, but Magda just kinda looks like her hair's a bit messed up, and Eve mostly looks tired. But they’re no longer in soft focus, a terrible fate for any TOS woman.

[ID: Ruth, a white woman with long, somewhat frizzled black hair and some shadows under her eyes, holding her hands up to her chin with an anguished expression and saying, “Look at my face.” ]

The women are demanding some kind of pills, which Mudd seems to have misplaced, although Eve calls them a cheat anyway. Eventually Mudd finds them under the mattress and gives a couple to Ruth and Magda. (They dry swallow them. Ew.) He has to talk Eve into taking one, though. Magda and Ruth are seeing the effects already: Ruth's complexion has cleared up and Magda's hair has magically done itself. Mostly, though, we know that they've gone from Unattractive to Attractive because their sultry background music is back. Eve looks at the pill in her hand unhappily, but we don't see her take it.

Spock, in a rare and rather bizarre case of sentimentalism, is looking over a spent crystal and musing that it's beautiful and it's a shame it had to be destroyed. Spock's not interested in superpowerfully beautiful women, but he appreciates a good shiny rock. Kirk points out that it was a choice between destroying the crystal or destroying Mudd's ship. Except his ship got destroyed anyway so that didn't work out real well all around.

The miners come in to chat with Kirk. He says he's authorized to pay them well for the crystals, but Childress, the head dude, says the miners might be looking to swap instead. What, is this a barter economy now? “Alright, I'll pay you ten chickens for each crystal.”

Actually, it turns out the miners want the women. But of course, they want to take a look at them first to see if they're to the miners' liking, so Childress tells Kirk to “trot them out.” Jesus fucking Christ, have we turned into a slave market over here? What is wrong with you people?

Oh, and Childress says that he's agreed to have the charges on Mudd dropped. How he has the authority to do this is not explained. I guess he has a lot of money, but that paints a depressing view of the enlightened future if people are still capable of just buying their way out of things. Kirk is so surprised and perplexed by all this that he bursts out laughing, while Spock just kind of sits down with a 'here we go' look on his face. Kirk says there's no deal, but Childress says without the women there'll be no crystals. Kirk starts to point out that not cooperating with the Federation could backfire pretty badly on the miners, but before he can get too far Mudd bursts in with all three women in tow. Kirk's desperate attempt to cut all this off is halted by the lights dimming, a sign that they're on half battery power now. Mudd points out that Kirk's got no choice: he needs those crystals or he's not going anywhere except into a rapidly decaying orbit and eventually the planet's surface.

After the break, Kirk, Spock and Mudd beam down to the planet to deal with the miners. It's a pleasant looking place, really the kind of planet you'd like to spend your whole life on.

[ID: A rocky, desolate, wind-blasted landscape, with a pinkish sky and three small domed buildings sticking up from the rocks, barely visible through air filled with dust. Offscreen, Kirk is saying, “Transporting down to surface of planet Rigel-12...” ]

Inside the nearby living unit, which looks bizarrely like a cave from the inside, Ruth and Magda are paired off with a couple miners, giggling and stroking their shoulders and doing that kind of thing, while Eve is sitting unhappily in a corner. Kirk admits to Childress that he's won, he'll make the deal, now can he please have some crystals. Childress smirks at him that he'll get the crystals when he has time, because they're busy now. Listen, you smug jackass, you want a half-mile long spaceship loaded with extremely explosive fuel to crash into your planet? That'd do your mining operation a whole lot of good, wouldn't it?

Childress tries to chat up Eve, to little avail. The other miners start to dance with Magda and Ruth, but Eve declines Childress's offer, causing him to stomp across the room and pull Ruth away from her partner. Which causes another miner to pull Magda away from her partner. Poor Eve, meanwhile, looks absolutely miserable, hunched over by the wall on the verge of tears. When a fight breaks out among the miners, Eve runs over to the door, screams, “Why don't you just hold a raffle and the loser gets me?!” and then runs outside. This is bad because Rigel-12 sucks at the best of times, but right now a magnetic storm's kicking up and the dust is even worse than usual. Childress yells at Kirk that if he goes outside he'll be killed but, come on, like that's ever stopped Kirk.

Kirk and Eve stumble dramatically through the rocks, and Childress comes out after them, gaping uselessly. You'd think the miners at least would have, like, goggles and breath masks, but nope. Anyway, they can't find Eve, and then Childress gets lost too, so Kirk goes back up to the Enterprise to try and find them with their scanners, but the magnetic storm is causing interference and they're not having much luck. Unfortunately this is draining the batteries even faster, so now they only have about five hours of power left. GEE, IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD DELIVERED THE CRYSTALS LIKE THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO.

Down on the planet, Childress has found Eve and carried her back inside. But the magnetic storm has caused communications to go down, so he can't tell the Enterprise that. Although he probably wouldn't anyway, cause he's a jerk. Eventually, with only about forty minutes of power left, they locate lifesigns in Childress's quarters and go to beam down.

Inside, Childress wakes up from an uncomfortable bench-nap to find Eve cooking. He complains that she moved stuff; she says that she did some chores for him. Then he complains that he does his own cooking. Then when he tastes it he says his cooking is better. Then, when Eve says his pan was super crusted and gross, he says he couldn't wash it because they don't have any decent water (what do they drink?) Eve finally gets him to shut up by saying he could hang the pans outside and get them sand-blasted clean. He rolls his eyes at this, but later we see him doing it. I dunno how well that would work since this world seems to be more dusty than sandy, but at least it made Childress stop talking.

Now, I’m only a struggling milennial myself, so forgive my naivete, but what in the goddamn hell is the point of being so rich if you’re living like this? All throughout the episode we’re told that the miners are incredibly wealthy, yet they’re living in absolutely hideous conditions that they clearly don’t enjoy. If they’re so rich, why not make some other people do all the work and suffering for them? That’s what rich people usually do, to my understanding.

Anyway, inside, Eve is playing Double Jack (whatever that is) with round cards, because this is THE FUTURE. Childress quickly goes back to his charming ways, first saying she's not even good company, then asking what happened to her looks, because oh my God, a woman who's been through a dust storm doesn't look astoundingly glamorous, how dare she. He gets right up in her face, screaming about how ugly she looks and how he's so rich he could buy queens, because I guess all women are for sale in this universe.

Thankfully, this display is interrupted by Kirk and Mudd coming in. Childress is quick to say that he didn't touch Eve. Well, that makes everything alright then. Emotional abuse, pshaw.

Kirk demands that Mudd tell Childress the truth about something called the Venus Drug. Mudd splutters that it's actually a relatively harmless drug, it just turns you into a toxic wasteland full of sulfuric acid. Oh no, sorry, Venus like the god, not Venus like the planet. Actually, Mudd says, the drug “gives you more of whatever you have.” Men get more aggressive and muscular, women get rounder and more feminine. I'm not making this up, that's literally what he says. I’m so sorry.

Childress is absolutely horrified to discover that all the women are naturally as shockingly hideous as Eve, and asks what happened to his partners, in a tone that suggests that he thinks the women ate them. Kirk says they've already gotten married by subspace radio, causing Childress to flip out and try to attack Mudd, but Kirk pulls him back and says that the marriages were frauds so the miners can get out of it. I guess no-fault divorce doesn’t exist in the enlightened future.

Childress splutters about the injustice of how he went out to rescue a woman who dares to look slightly less pretty than she did previously. And I mean, Eve looks pretty much exactly the same except her hair isn't brushed and she has less makeup on. That's it. That's literally it. This whole thing would be just as stupid no matter what she looked like, but Childress is acting like she grew horns and her skin fell off.

[ID: Eve, a white woman with long and slightly messy blonde hair and dressed in a sparkly pink sleeveless dress, looking tiredly at the camera.]

Eve's finally had enough and screams at Childress that he doesn't want a wife, he wants the perfect ideal of a woman exemplified by the Venus Drug. To prove this to him, she gulps down three of them at once, then, after a long pause, turns around. Gasp! Her makeup and coiffed hair and sultry background music are back. She asks if this is what Childress really wants—not a real wife to cook and sew for him (as all wives do) but someone who's “selfish, vain, useless.” Childress bitterly muses that such a woman is only “a fake, pumped up by a drug” but then Kirk reveals that actually, no—they replaced the real Venus Drug with a placebo. Believing that she had taken the drug was enough to make Eve beautiful, because confidence and self-esteem will do your hair and makeup for you.

At any rate, Kirk's tired of giving DARE programs to bit characters and tells Childress he better hand over the crystals before the Enterprise crashes into this lovely little domestic scene. Childress finally concedes the crystals and, when Spock asks how many people are beaming up, he says that Eve can stay with him. How generous. Eve agrees, although not terribly enthusiastically, so Kirk and Mudd head out, with a bit of snarking first.

Back on the ship they've finally got things working again, and Spock says he's glad this whole business is over, calling it “a most annoying emotional episode.” Yeah, you and me both, Spock.

There's so much awfulness going on in this episode I don't even know where to start. You have the constant objectification of the women by everyone from the cast to the camera. You have the way the women are treated like property to be traded, examined, and discarded for being faulty. You have immediate shock and horror if the women are ever anything but perfectly made-up and appealing. Even Eve's whole speech to Childress at the end is bad; first, when she accuses him of not really wanting a wife, she frames the idea of a wife not as being an equal partner but as being someone useful to their husband. Then, rather than pointing out that the effects of the Venus Drug only make for a fake, unrealistically idealized idea of a woman, she says that the problem is that any woman that beautiful would automatically be selfish, vain, and useless. It comes off less as “you should look at women as real people and not walking pinup girls meant only to fulfill your desires” and more “you should try to attain a woman that's useful to you rather than focusing on looks alone.”

And then you have the implicit assumption throughout the entire episode that every woman needs a man. The circumstances the women originally came from don't sound real great and you wouldn't blame them for wanting to get away from that, but the emphasis is not on them wanting to leave because the situation was lousy, it's them wanting to leave because there were no men. And what is a woman supposed to do without a man to marry? The women are so desperate to have husbands, any husbands, that they place themselves in the hands of a sleazy conman to get delivered to men they've never met—men whose identities are so inconsequential that the women don't care when they're replaced on the fly. At the end the women are all back to living in pretty shitty circumstances. No one would want to live on Rigel-12! It sucks! You're stuck in tiny, cave-like dwellings with few resources, not even enough water to do dishes, half the time you can't go outside and the other half the time you wouldn't want to! Oh, and to top it off, the episode ends with Eve staying with a man who was literally screaming emotional abuse into her ear ten minutes ago. Are we honestly supposed to believe this is a happy ending for anyone? But it's all okay now because they have husbands, so their roles as women are fulfilled. And I’m sure that Childress will go from being a horrible sexist jerk to a good partner now that he’s been shouted at for five minutes.

And the whole thing just...doesn't make sense. We're clearly supposed to believe that the Venus Drug has some kind of real, tangible effect. The women spend most of the episode having a siren-like effect on every man they encounter. And while Magda and Eve never went much beyond having messy hair, they at least put enough makeup on Ruth when she was off the drug to make a clear physical change take place. But at the end it turns out that it was just...self-confidence? Or something? Self-confidence so strong it can do your hair and makeup for you? Heck, what about Ruth setting off McCoy's medical scanner? That never gets explained. Or the fact that taking the Venus drug is apparently enough to qualify for fraud, judging by what Kirk said about those divorces.

The only thing this episode has going for it (aside from Spock's expressions) is Harry Mudd himself, in large part thanks to Roger C. Carmel's gleefully over the top acting. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to defend him as a person—but you don't have to be a great person to make for a great character. And in a weird, paradoxical kind of way, there's something I find enjoyably different about Mudd as a character. TOS tends to take place on a pretty large scale—its antagonists are usually serious threats, when they're not incomprehensibly powerful, while its protagonists are called upon to be heroes fighting for peace and life and human ideals. There's nothing wrong with that, it works for the show, but it's kind of nice to occasionally run into an antagonist who's not threatening entire planets, just doing small-time crime to make a quick buck. It makes the world feel more fleshed out, like things are still going on at other levels than we usually see. Our heroes may be dealing with godlike beings and scary monsters and philosophical quandaries, but out there in the galaxy people are still living their fairly normal lives. And some of those people suck, because they're people and that's how people work. I just wish they could have had him running a less incredibly cringe-inducing con.  

The other thing I like about Mudd is his interactions with Kirk. He really brings out Kirk's sarcastic, impatient side, and it's a lot of fun to watch. Kirk is immediately 100% done the moment Mudd walks into the room, but normally when Kirk gets fed up with a situation he has to rein it in to be diplomatic or captain-like or cool under pressure or whatever. He has no such need to hold it back with Mudd, so he just gets to be as snarky as he wants and it's wonderful.

TREK TROPE TALLY: None this time--crew death count for this episode is, once again, zero, unless someone died of embarrassment offscreen. Next time we'll get back onto firm pondering-the-nature-of-humanity ground with What Are Little Girls Made Of?

[12-3amproductions]

Invisible Partner

Stephanie, 29, socialite

People have always accused me of being a little princess and i guess that’s true because i do act a little precious, which is a good thing in a way as it ensures that men always treat you well, heh heh.

So l’m sorry but my ghost story is typically precious as well, but that’s how my life has always been!

Alright get to the point, my husband whom i adore, is 15 years older than me. He is extremely wealthy, being the partner of one of the biggest law firms in the country. he bought me a beautiful old shophouse for our first wedding anniversary.

A little extravagant, i know, it was perfect for a new interior decor business i was thinking of starting.

It’s in a town area, a very colorful district, i must add and i do get a kick out of rubbing shoulders with the grassroot masses.

We spent a fortune on the conservation of the place and i was so busy picking out the items for the decor. i wanted it to look like a page out of a novel, with a slow turning ceiling fan, light flooding through the French doors and tasteful furniture.

I thought I’d make it look like a home rather than an office, so my potential clients would have an idea of what their homes could look like under my expert hands.

“Darling!” they would coo as they teetered on their white stilettos, running manicured fingers around the artefacts. “It’s absolutely gorgeous, you must do my house!”

The problem is, i have this feisty little spirit living in the old house which insists on deciding what i should use for decor. I discovered it one afternoon while hanging some paintings on the wall and arranging a couple of expensive English porcelain vases on the side table.

Just as i stepped back to examine the effect, SOMETHING turned the paintings over and slammed them against the wall. Can you imagine that? How rude!

And then the spirit hurled the cases against the wall and broke them all!

I was so pissed. I’ve never been treated like that in my life! I shouted “HEY! What do you think you’re DOING?” I called my husband at his office and took it out on him.

He came over right away, saw the damage and was quite surprised.

Are you sure it wasn’t the workmen? Maybe they did it when your back was turned,” he asked, perplexed.

“Of course not,” i hissed, annoyed at being doubted. “If i even suspected it was the workmen, I’d have fired them or have you sue the contractor already! I am telling you this, something happened right before my eyes, something just turned the pictures over and smashed my lovely vases!”

We went home and i spent the night stewing over what had happened, muttering “how DARE it do such a thing, how DARE it!”

I woke up the next day determined not to be bullied out of decorating my premise and to teach the “thing” some manners.

I went back to the shophouse and this time, said very firmly to the empty house :”Now, i won’t have this nonsense, this is MY place, you had better learn some manners. I’m coming back with some more items and I DO NOT want anything to be destroyed, is that understood?”

I brought over some other stuff, a few delicate vases and exquisite antique Chinese redwood furniture. I’d also thought over the design and felt a chinoiserie theme might be more in keeping with the Chinatown locale than French or English artefacts.

I stepped back again to survey the interior. As soon as the movers left, it started again.

This time, the spirit slammed just the paintings against the wall but left the cases and furniture alone.

I was intrigued. “You like those, do you?” i called out, holding the vases and i felt a positive vibration, as if it said yes.

I removed the paintings and replaced them with some collectible posters of cigarette girls. These were met with approval because the spirit actually straightened the posters that were hung on the wall!

Over the weeks, i grew more experimental with the decor, adding more and more quirky items, humorous items, things i found while sourcing out the backstreet alleys of the town.

Some pieces the spirit liked and some it didn’t. Those it didn’t like would be tossed away. but i have to admit that it had taste, even a little dramatic.

At one point i was even influenced into painting the bathrooms a deep, bloody scarlet, like in the book “Dream Of The Red Chamber”. I was no longer keen on illustrating the novel but exploring my own culture.

After a month, i was ready to open y shop and employed an ad agency to think of an ad. They thought the location might be a selling point, did research into the area and found that my shophouse was a brothel in the 1890s.

I started asking some of the old folks living around there about the place and they told me that it was famous for its number one prostitute, a haughty, beautiful woman who was more than a mere whore. She had died there during a fight with the owner and the pimp. She demanded a share in the business as she had helped it to grow.

When they refused, she threatened to set up another business. She said she would take some of the best girls with her. Worried that she might actually succeed, they murdered her.

I guess she was ahead of her time, a woman who wanted to head her own business. And now she was trying to have a say in mine.

On the night before opening, i had a cocktail party there and my guests, including the members of the press, loved the dramatic oriental decor, the strong ethnic cultural ambience which was particularly attractive to young. And almost everybody liked the story about my feisty little spirit.

The press were delighted with this fresh new angle, and except for the newspaper reporters who said they were not allowed to print stories about ghosts, all promised me much publicity because of the delicious new twist.

“To my invisible business partner,”i said, as we all held up our glasses in a toast, “with you around, I’m sure we have more than a ghost of a chance for success!”

Admins:On that cheerful note, we will try our best to have a story everyday. 

Want to send us your stories?

Feel free to send us your stories in with the title, your name or blog (you can choose to be anonymous), occupation, gender and age.

Your entries must be horror related. Best to be from your own personal horror experience. Thank you for your support!

[wendynerdwrites]

Recovered Jonsa fics #1: Jon Tackles Littlefinger

So, since my blog was erased, so were a bunch of fics since many of them were under a “read more” cut and now the links are gone. Some I am not able to recover some of them, but I am able to repost others. Some are prompts, and with some, I don’t have the og prompts, just the response. So here I am, reposting what I can. Apologies for the long posts, but it’s for preserving them!

After two weeks of knowing the man, Jon Snow is of the opinion that Petyr Baelish does not walk. He slithers. He does not smile, he smirks. He does not love, he wants.

And he has saved them all. Even Rickon, though he stays in the corner of his bedchamber, staring at the wall and shaking, is alive. Baelish convinced Ramsay with a letter that Rickon was of more use to him alive than dead, at least until the Northern Insurrection was quelled. Then the man, under the guise of bringing the Vale’s Army to serve House Bolton, entered Winterfell and managed to get the boy out.

Ultimately, thanks to Baelish, the battle was practically over before it began. Ramsay, of course, still tried to put up a fight. It gave Jon the singular pleasure of hacking off the bastard’s arms and delivering him to Sansa to deliver the blow to the throat that makes her a widow. Soon after, Baelish remarks that widowhood becomes her.

It’s then that Jon is certain of what is coming.

Baelish doesn’t just arrive with an army. He arrives with coin, with lumber, with workers. He arrives with silks, furs, and even jewels. A sapphire necklace that he remarks still can’t match the luster of Sansa’s eyes. He wears armor, new, expensive, gilded, the breastplate emblazoned with a mockingbird. The armor is undented, untouched, and it is clear by the way his shoulders sag that he is not used to wearing such things. The armor itself is forged more for style than function.

Baelish even brought toys and things for Rickon. He brought the boy a puppy, of all things. He encourages the young lord of the Vale--- gawky, pale, awkward, spoiled--- to try and play with the new Lord of Winterfell. The new Lord of Winterfell stays in his corner.

When Baelish speaks to Sansa, he leans. Forward, to the side, whatever angle at which he can get close. Sansa stiffens when he does this, but she doesn’t stop him, and he doesn’t stop.

From their first night in Winterfell onward, Jon visits his sister in her chambers in the evening, stays late, and leaves Ghost outside her door when he leaves. More than once he’s caught Baelish lurking in the hall outside her chamber. It’s a couple of days after the first time he finds Baelish there that Jon notices how Sansa has started hurrying to the table at meals and “playfully” stealing food from Jon’s plate before he has a chance to touch it. She pretends it is sibling mischief, but he can tell from the look in her eyes that it isn’t.

Soon after that, Baelish starts approaching Jon, offering “whatever help he can give” in the upcoming war against the White Walkers. Coin, men, supplies, connections… The worst part is that Jon has to take it. He feels like a pimp.

It’s midday when he looks out a window, down onto the glass gardens, and sees them walking together amidst the greenery. Baelish is smirking, leaning, slithering. Jon has had enough, and he’s out the door and down the stairs quick as lightning. He is as silent as a ghost as he slips into the garden. His time hunting with Father, Theon Greyjoy, and Robb taught him how to sneak. Ygritte taught him to sneak even better. He crouches behind a set of shrubs once he is in earshot.

“Sansa, no one can offer you, no one has offered you, as much as I offer you. You wrote of a reward in your message to me, and I came. I am your ally, your partner. I saved---”

“---Me from the very monster you delivered me to. One might say that me not divulging that information to Lord Royce should be reward enough after all that I’ve suffered thanks to you.

Jon cannot help but smile.

“I once offered you the same army and you rejected me. You were the one who wrote to me, who offered me a reward. I promised to keep you safe, and the best way I can do that is if I become your husband.”

Jon had guessed it was all heading towards this, but something about hearing it spoken aloud makes his heart race.

He watches as Sansa moves away from Baelish to play with a white blossom.

“I could tell them about Aunt Lysa as well.”

Baelish stiffens. “Then everything I have to offer you would be lost. Tell me, Sansa, have you considered your brothers?”

“I hope you’re not implying any sort of threat, Lord Baelish.”

“No, of course not. I was referring to the oncoming war,” Baelish moves up behind her. He leans again, “Jon marching off to battle against the White Walkers. He’s safer with me supplying him what he needs. He’s even safer with my men going to battle instead of him.”

Sansa speaks for both of them when she asks, “What are you talking about?”

“I could insure that your cousin never has to face an army again. He can stay home, alive, safe, while others fight the war. You were just reunited with him, it’s cruel that you’ll have to see him go off to war again so soon, possibly to lose him forever. But if he were somehow prevented from leaving to fight, his life is assured.”

Sansa stiffens, “Jon is determined to fight. People follow him.”

“He has fought enough. He has even died for others. He’s fought for Winterfell, he deserves to live. To be protected. People can follow other people. I mean, you don’t actually believe that nonsense from the Red Woman---”

“---Don’t be absurd.”

“Then there is no reason Jon has to risk his life again. You can keep him safe. We can keep him safe. And all that I ask in return is…” And that’s when his lips brush her ear. That’s when Jon springs from his hiding place. That’s when she screams. That’s when the flowerbeds topple over as Jon forces Baelish atop the table, blade to his throat.

“Jon! Stop!”

At the sound of her voice, he pulls back. He wants to slit Baelish’s throat from ear to ear with every fiber of his being, but he won’t scare her. He won’t.

He’s panting, he’s furious. He glares as Baelish sits up, shaking.

“You don’t lay a hand on her,” Jon tells him, “Do you understand me?”

“I believe that is up to the lady,” Baelish says hastily.

“I would not be dishonored!” Sansa says, clearly upset, “I have suffered that enough!”

Baelish gets to his feet. And his lip curls. It’s amazing to Jon how quickly he recovers. “Of course, Lady Sansa, forgive me. Only your husband has a right to touch you.”

“Yes,” she says nervously, “Only my husband.”

“Would you dishonor yourself by breaking your word?” Baelish asks her. “Because I would give my word that I will not lay an unworthy hand upon you.”

Sansa takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I will not break my word, if you do not break yours. Here, before Jon, you promise us men, supplies, coin, all we would need to fight the war against the White Walkers?”

Jon looks at Sansa, horrified. No, please, no, he pleads with her silently. But she doesn’t respond.

“In exchange for---?”

“By the week’s end, I will be a widow no longer. You will make a bride of me.”

Baelish grins, then bows, and excuses himself. Once his footfalls are out of earshot, Jon turns to Sansa. “I am going to kill him. You know that.”

“Jon, you can’t---”

“---I can, and will, if it means you will not become that man’s wife. This is not up for discussion. I heard everything. I know what he’s done. He will die, one way or another,” he grabs her shoulders, “I understand if you will not forgive me. But I cannot, will not allow this to happen. I will not see you bartered off to some unworthy snake. It will not happen again, Sansa.”

“What about all he offers us?”

“None of it’s worth it. I’d rather die again than let it happen. What kind of world would I be fighting for, when it’s one where you are surrendered to that monster? I’ve sacrificed enough, I’m not sacrificing you. You are not to be sold, not to be given away, bartered away.”

She seizes him, kisses him, and Jon is suddenly lost in the soft, warm sweetness that is her mouth. He is stunned. Not simply by the kiss, but at the realization that he has wanted this ever since he saw her that day in the courtyard of Castle Black. He seems to melt into her.

It seems an eternity and half a moment when their lips part. His eyes open without him realizing that they were ever closed. Her eyes seem to pour into his.

“I suppose I should be ashamed, but only if you are displeased,” she says breathlessly. All he can do is shake his head.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “You could do something else instead of killing him. Something that would keep him or any other opportunistic lech from making me his.”

“What?” He feels like he should know the answer to this, but he can’t think of anything right now except the scent of her hair and the music of her voice.

“Wed me. You are Jon Targaryen, not Jon Snow. Do it, before witnesses. Wed me, bed me, come back to me, be mine. No one would be able to keep us apart. We could stay in Winterfell, keep Rickon safe, keep the North safe, bring the Starks back, stay home where we belong. I know it’s much to ask, but I would be a good wife to you, Jon, I would. I---”

“---Yes.”

Her mouth falls open, and it takes a little while for words to come out of it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. That is the life I want. You are the life I want. I love you. And I am not letting you go.”

It’s the most simple thing in the world, the most obvious thing. She is what I will fight for. She’s what I’ve been fighting for since I came back to life. She is what I came back for. She is what I’m going to come back for. She’s all I want to come back for.

She smiles then. “Then I think tonight should be the night that Baelish makes me a bride.”

~_~_~_~_~_~

It’s the first time Jon has seen Baelish slither and smirk without wanting to kill him. Baelish, head to toe in deep green velvet, escorts Sansa to the godswood, to the Heart Tree. It’s immediately clear that he is unfamiliar with Northern customs.

Lord Royce is there, as is Lady Mormont, Lord Arryn, Lord and Lady Manderly. All of the remaining Northern elite.

Sansa is a vision in ivory and silver brocade that Baelish has brought her. She wears her Stark cloak over it. Baelish wears a mockingbird cloak on his back, clearly intending to eventually drape it upon the bride’s shoulders.

Jon watches them from the base of the Heart Tree. He waits until the are close to ask, “Who comes before the gods?”

“I do, Petyr of House Baelish, Lord of Harrenhal, Lord Protector of the Vale, and uncle to the lady.”

“And who do you bring with you?”

“Sansa of House Stark, a lady trueborn, noble, and flowered, coming before the gods to be joined with her husband.”

Jon steps forward and takes Sansa hand. “I am Jon of the House Targaryen, rightful heir to Dragonstone, the Iron Throne, and the Seven Realms of Westeros. And I stand here, before the gods of the First Men, to take Sansa of the House Stark, Lady of Winterfell,  as my wife.”

At this, Littlefinger steps in. “What?! She is to be muy---”

“And I, Sansa of the House Stark, Lady of Winterfell, stand here before the gods of the First Men to take Jon of House Targaryen, rightful heir to Dragonstone, the Iron Throne, and the Seven Realms of Westeros, as my husband.”

Baelish stepped back then, eyes wide, gaping. “But… But… You said…”

“I sad that you’d make me a bride. And you did. You led me to my husband.” Sansa says after turning away from their kiss. And in exchange for that honor, you have sworn men, supplies, and coin to aid us.”

“I was promised a reward!’ He snarled. Sansa move towards him, grabs him by the collar, and leans in. Jon doesn’t have to hear to know what she’s saying, 

“Your reward is your life.”

[silklyon]

Page of Text for Lisa Ann Corpora by Alexander William Erickson

Lisa, I am doing a major writing project on the Bobby Bones website; eventually there is a published version of all of my communication.  This is organization and planning you want to remove judgment.  You examine the content like watching a ballerina perform in ripped medical scrubs for an audition.  This is one page wall of text I wrote for you last night as I fell asleep and this morning as I woke up. // June 25, 2018 11:17 PM Pacific Standard Time Black on Black Typing for Lisa Ann  Corpora.  Lisa is one of my favorite models as she maintains a commitment to the lingerie lifestyle.  There is a togetherness with her look that gives me confidence  when I consider trying to advance with her in my life.  What I find most unique and annoying about her is her minds strength to continue a mathematical algorithm in a language coded pattern for intergalactic mapping and because i am interrogating her with this method she never uses the same language three times in any correct way.  You enjoy the conversation until the conclusion and realize that she told you something that was a mapped location like I puzzle with words.  I cannot see my words on this black on black screen.  The post about her today that language gave me a strong feedback  about being able to communicate with her.  I was busy believing in the structured set of lies that were presented to me in the middle of 2005, thirteen years ago.  I was studying liars all around me and picking up their habits and deploying new versions as my own.  Lying was second nature to me in terms life live conversational communication.  The thought of lying on  a prolonged basis about future past tense agendas items had never occurred to me.  What do I mean?  I mean that while I would lie to anyone to their face I would not say... rather, I would and will always create plans that I genuinely want to organize and complete.533AMPST June 26, 2018 Good Morning Lisa Ann, I gather you want 150 love notes.   Right now we have  a few Bobby Bones packages that I am working on that slowly bring you up as part of the characters in my life's mind while I develop my career.  /// 5:35 AM PST June 26, 2018 Dear Lisa Ann, I work organically, what that means to me is that I do not study my subjects intently  with my eyes.  Yes, you are a favorite model of mine and I love your look.  Women communicate differently than oral verbal communication and you communicate to me a value that is beyond most peoples level of intellect.  Like I wrote earlier briefly, when your brain got paired with Stehpan Hawking I found the common ground that both of you shared as a failure point: you both loved to confuse people with your mapping languages.  I miss Stephen Hawking, you hear about technology and the potential for things to protect an sustain life, and you imagine this hyperbolic relationship that fills real time voids.  I would watch a history channel story about Big Foot and Stephan Hawking would tell me his commentary and provide me encouragement.  He always encouraged me.  He always told me to envelop the problem with a ..... He wanted to make sure I was not a fuck up as scientist.  He was fuck up as a scientist.  WHen it was time to listen to Stephen Hawking he found himself irritable and stand offish.  And he feared that I would miss out by dismissing someone that had finally arrived.  That is why I think I disciplined myself with my communication to you and the resulting loyalty test that is not the standard loyalty test.    The report o you Lisa is that you are your own pimp.    And what that means to me is that every three to six  months or so your Maybach will tweak your body a little bit and then you will be walking around me expecting to know what to do with the Lisa Ann titty titty strutty strutty situation.  My plan is called, well I told you the plan before, no reason to get into the details in the Black and The White.  .    Communications is a much more spread spectrum complex topic than I had surmised when I began studying my own decoding of communications into my brain.  I am exhausted from the beckoning of women and not ever being able to conclude value or waste.  There is an evil element afoot that desires to thwart my progress through brain wave interference.  I have been fighting this mental battle this mental warfare for four years now I and I am finally developing and delivering product that is certainly on par with my expectations.  I know that the letters to you with the Bobby Bones website was not that impressive, with the way computers work for me on my planet of existence at this time; its the most effective way I can communicate.    By my bed are three books The Hagakure, the Way of the Samurai, GHENGHIS The Birth of an Empire, and The Great Shark Hunt by Hunter S. Thompson.  GHENGHIS I continue to read slowly not deciding if I am committed to the read through.  There is is family of boys and one is getting sent off to another tribe to be mated to woman he has not met.  And so far its a setup that seems unimaginable to produce the warrior of history and of Bill and TEd's Excellent Adventure.  We have not met a character named Ghengis yet so the pages turn slow.  I have read the first half of the Hagakure, my belief is that after that it becomes more of a Way of The Shogun warrior and all the Samurai died out because of failing shoguns.  No conclusion, Signed Sincerely, Alexander

[gizoogletranslateshomestuck]

==>

uu: SO WHIZZAY I SIZZAY YOE UGLY. W-H-TO-THA-IZZICH YOU FACTUALLY ARE. uu: I MIZZLE T-H-TO-THA-IZZAT FROM MAH PERSPECTIVE. OF BEIN NIZZLE, N NOT A SHIZZLE ALIEN. TA SIZZAY THIZZLE YOU BE ACTUALLIZZLE ATTRACTIVE 'N AN UNPLIZZLE WAY. TA MAH BRAIN. 

GG: Hrm. GG droppin hits: Nope. Snoop dogg is in this bitch. That makizzles verizzle shawty senze like a motha fucka. 

uu: FUCK. TRY SPENDIN' YO' SUPPOSIZZLE BETTA SMIZZLE TIZZY MINE. uu: Keep the party crackin while I'm steady rappin. N THINK SOMEWHAT LATERALLY. 'BOUT LIKE. STEPPIN' CULTURE. THAT ISN'T *YOURS*. uu: YIZZAY DUMB BITCH. 

GG: Yes, I sizzay it all tizzay clearly nizzay. Yoe really quite tha charma!  

uu: You gotta check dis shit out yo. NO. COME ON. "DUMB BITCH" BE HUSTLA BOOTYLICIOUS COMPLIMENT. uu straight from long beach nigga: 'N THA SAME VIZNEIN AS THAT WHICH I JUST DESCRIBED. uu: IT A TERM OF "ENDEARMENKSKLJJF" I UZE TA RAP ABOUT GIRLS. WHO 'N MAH VIEW HAVE MANAGE' TA AVOID BEING. uu n we out! UTTIZZLE BIZZLE MAH PERSONAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT. DIS ISN'T COMPLICATED. 

GG so sit back relax new jacks get smacked: Uh huh. GG, ya feel me? So yoe actually ho-slappin' ta claim thizzay yizzay find me attractive, F-R-to-tha-izzom tha allege' "bad M-to-tha-izzeans gizzle" piznoint of vizzay of yo' hate-driven spizzles? 

uu: DEFINITELY. uu: I'M NOT JOK'N AROUND, CROCKER. uu: Aint no L-I-M-I-to-tha-T. I'VE UNLOCKIZZLE A BUNCH OF YO' SCREENS. N SPENT A LIZNOT OF TIME WATCH'N YOU. uu: WHIZZAY THINKING. JUST. uu: THA *DIIIIRTIEST* THOUGHTS. uu: HIZZAY HEE. HAA. 

GG: Eww. GG: You pig now pass the glock. 

uu: THA PIMP FIZZLE TOO. LET NOT FORGET YO' SQUAD BACKUP BITCH. uu fo' sho': HIZZAY NASTY BE SHE? They call me tha black folks president.? JUST SO FOUL. N THA TH'N YOU GET UP TA WIT ONE ANOTHER. OH MAH. uu: NEE' I EVIZZLE CITE THA ALTERCATION WIT YO' PUFFY SLUMBA LOAVES? 

GG: They call me tha black folks president. Excizzle me?? 

uu fo gettin yo pimp on: MY COMPLIMENTS 'N PARTICULAR. ON YO' COLORFUL UNDERGARMENTS. uu: WIZZY BOUNC'N UP N DOWN ON THA SIZZAY HUMAN SARSWAPAGUS. 

GG cuz its a G thang: Oh, that just bootylicious. GG: Tha ONE TIZNIME we hiznad a generic girly pillow fizzight, n it tiznurns out sizzome pervert wizzay watchizzle us cuz I put gangsta rap on tha map. GG: I think I nee' a showa. GG: Assum'n I can rappa takes one agizzle 'n peace! 

uu: DON'T WORRY. YIZZY CAN'T. uu: BIZZAY SERIOUSLY. JANE. CAN I CALL YOU JANE? Its just anotha homocide. BITCH, LISTEN. uu n we out! YOU BE ONE GRODY HARLOT. WHICH MEANS GOOD (BAD) CHILLIN' TA ME, LET REMEMBER. uu: WHEN I UNLOCKED YOU. I DON'T KNOW. MAYBE I'VE CHANGE' fo my bling bling? OR MAYBE JIZZY YOU. SINCE YOU TURNED OLDER. BIZZAY YOU REALLY. uu: FILLED OUT. uu: SIZNINCE I L-TO-THA-IZZAST SIZZAY YOU BEFORE. 

GG: Whizzat? GG: ... GG: Put ya mutha fuckin choppers up if ya feel this. Really? Fo'-fo' desert eagle to your motherfuckin' dome. 

uu: HELL YES. uu: Ill slap tha taste out yo mouf. I DO ENJOY A MIZZLE BITCH. WITTA SHAWTY CLOUT. 

GG: Whizzay do you mizzle, exactly n we out! GG so jus' chill: By "clout?" 

uu: Boo-Yaa! OH. I THINK YOU KNOW. uu: WHEN PHYSICAL PORTIONS OF THA BITCH. KIZZIND OF JUT OUT. EXUBERANTLY. 

GG: D-ya mizzean... GG: Mah... GG: Whizzy be I even hav'n dis conversation! 

uu: I JUST HAVE A WEAK SPOT. FO` THA ABIZZLE AVERAGE HEFT OF YO' PARTS. WHICH WIZZY THA MOST. uu: NIZZLE DO SUM-M SUM-M NAUSEAT'N FO` ME TA WATCH. uu: I WANT TA SEE A TAWDRIZZLE ACT OF HARD CIZZY SCHMALTZ. uu: SIZNEE THAT RIZNOCK CRAZY ASS NIGGA THERE. PRIZZLE IT BE THA OTHA INSIZZLE BITCH. uu fo' real: ACT A SHAWTY NERVOUS. WIT YO' IDLE HAND, GRAZE ONE OF YO' MIZZORE BULBOUS LOCATIZZLE "INCIDENTALLY" if you gots a paper stack. uu: T-H-TO-THA-IZZEN ASK THA ROCK IF IT WANTS TO FALL 'N LOVE!!! OOOOOOOH. 

GG: What? No! GG upside yo head: Be you insizzle? GG: I D-to-tha-izzon't care where you be, or nigga tha H-to-tha-izzell it be yizzay "unlocked" ta spy on me. GG: Yizzle aren't allowizzle ta sit there all dizzay leering at mah bizzay!!! 

uu: YO' WHAT. 

GG: Mah fo' sheezy... wizzy yeah yeah baby? GG: Wizzait, what were YIZNOU talk'n 'bout? 

uu: NO. TELL ME WHIZZAT THOZE FRONTIN' YOU SAID BE. I'M SO ENTICED! Relax, cus I'm bout to take my respect.

GG: Screw you! GG cuz its a G thang: T-to-tha-izzell me what you were getting at wit all that!! GG: Tha S-T-to-tha-izzuff 'bout "clout," n mah "bulbous locations." 

uu: I WAS JUST SAYING. MAH TASTE PREFERS. uu: WHEN THA BUXOM SHREW PHYSIQUE PUTS A HEALTHY DIZZLE IN SPACETIME. 

GG: Spacizzle n we out!? 

uu so sit back relax new jacks get smacked: I LIKE HOW SALTY IT BE. WHEN A BITCH GRIZZAY OUT OF HA SKELETAL PHAZE. uu: N HA FRIZZLE REALLY BEGINS TO CHALLENGE THA HORIZONTAL DIMENSIONS. 

GG: WHAT! 

uu: W-H-TO-THA-IZZEN THA FIZZLE R-TO-THA-IZZUMP STARTS GIZZLE MORE MILIZZLE OUT OF ITS WIDENESS ATTRIBUTE. MIZNORE BIZZANG FO` ITS BOONBUCK! uu: IT EXCITES ME BETTER. WHEN BITCHES PUNISH THA GROUND. WIT EACH MEGALITHIC FOOTSTEP. 

GG: SIZZY UP! GG: I'M NIZZY FIZZY!!! 

uu: Dogg House Records in the motha fuckin house. JIZZANE BITCH. I HAVE NEW ORDERS. uu: YIZZAY WILL STRIZZAY TA THA SCANTIZZLE PAIR OF PARTY P-TO-THA-IZZANTS N THA CLOTH CHEST PIZZLE WHICH YOU WEAR CRAZY ASS NIGGA THOZE PLAIN RAGS. uu: It's your homie snoop dogg from the dpg. THEN FIZZIND A NAUGHTY PATCH OF MUD. uu: You'se a flea and I'm the big dogg. N ROLL AROUND 'N THA MUD. LIKE AN EARTH PIG. uu sho nuff: FLAUNT'N FO` ME. YO' SLIPPERY N SWOLLIZZLE PIZZLE PHYSICALITY. uu: N MAYBE GRIZZUNT SIZZOME DECADENT PIZZAY THROUGH YO' SNOUT. 'BOUT SOME SHITFACE YOU "ADOREFJSDKLJJF". uu: Bow wow wow yippee yo yipee yay. OOOOH YES. uu with my hoes on my side, and my strap on my back THAT WIZZLE BE. uu: *WRRRRIZZLE! Boom bam as I step in the jam, God damn.* 

GG: GO F-TO-THA-IZZUCK YOSELF! Boom bam as I step in the jam, God damn. 

uu: WAIT! DON'T SHUT ME OUT. uu, know what im sayin? REMEMBA WHAT I SAID. 'BOUT OUR DIFFERENT CULTURES OR WHATEVER. uu: I started yo shit and i'll end yo' shit. HAVE A FUCK'N OPEN MIZZY, JANE. uu: I MADE YOU A PRESENT. FO` YO' BIRTHDAY. KILLA TIZZY ACTUALLIZZLE BE. uu: You'se a flea and I'm the big dogg. SEE HOW I'M MAKIZZLE AN EFFORT TA UNDERSTAND YO' CUSTOMS? uu: MEET ME HIZZLE OF THA GODDIZZLE WAY. 

GG: Oh cripes. Boo-Yaa! GG: Whizzle be it? 

uu: A SUBLIME ARTISTIC PORTRAIT. uu: REMEMBA HOW I SIZZLE MAH KILLA WAS GROW'N WIT EACH DAY. uu, ya feel me? DIS APPLIES AS WIZZAY TA MAH PROWESS AS A DRAFTSMAN. 

GG: Oh goodness, no. Yiznou P-to-tha-izzoor delizzle th'n. GG: I D-to-tha-izzon't C-to-tha-izzare what progress you think you M-to-tha-izzade. You will neva be a G-to-tha-izzood artizzle, dizzy. 

uu: HORSESHIT. uu: MAH ILLUSTRATION BE STUNNING. IT IS NEARLY A PHOTOGRAPHIC REPRESENTATION OF YOUR ODIOUS MILKSHAKE. uu ya feelin' me? NOW PARK THA INDUSTRIAL LIZZOAD OF FREIGHT YOU DECLARE A BOTTOM. N FIZZAY YO' EYES ON MAH FUCK'N EXCELLIZZLE!  uu: http://tinyurl.com/JANETHISISYOU 

GG thats off tha hook yo: Groan, betta check yo self. 

uu: I BELIEVE I HAVE CHOSEN THA PERFECT SHIZZLE FO` YOU. uu: IT IS DESCRIBED 'N CERTAIN CIRCLIZZLE KNOWLEDGEABLE OF THA ARTS. AS. "A CIRCLE". uu: I BE VERY PLEAZE' WIT HOW FAITHFULLY IT HIZZLE CAPTIZZLE THA OBSCENE ROTUNDITY. OF YOUR MAGNIFICENT CARRIAGE. uu spittin' that real shit: TRULIZZLE A SPITT'N IMAGE OF THA CROCKER BITCH. uu fo my bling bling: NOW LISTEN CAREFULLY. YOU MAY LEARN SUM-M SUM-M. uu: THA MASTERPIECE AFICIONADO WILL NOTICE. HOW I ACHIEVED TIZZY HIGHLY ADVANCED N DIFFICULT SHAPE. uu: WHAT MIZZAY GIFTED ARTIZZLE WILL TELL YOU. BE THAT. CIZZLE BE BASICALLY FUCK'N IMPOSSIBLE TA DRAW. uu: TRUST ME. uu: IT LIKE A PARADOX. A SHIZZAPE WITOUT ANGLES. WHAT aww nah?? uu: SO I FUCK'N CHEATED. uu: Slap your mutha fuckin self. I NAVIGATED THA IRRATIONAL SHOT CALLA BY MAK'N A LOT OF EASILY UNDERSTANDABLE, TOTALLY LOGICAL MARKS. FORM'N A WHOLE BUNCH OF SHAWTY R-TO-THA-IZZIGHT ANGLES. uu: THA DOGGY STYLIN' PART HAPPIZZLE WHEN I DO DIS A LOT. SO IT GOES 'N A ROUND DIRECTION. uu: DIS ONE CIZZAME OUT WELL I THINK. BUT THERE RIZZY TA IMPROVE. uu: You gotta check dis shit out yo. I HAVE THEORIZE' THAT IF I KEEP BALLIN' BOGUS CIRCLES LIKE DIS. uu: WHIZNILE DRAW'N MORE N MIZNORE ANGLES. BUT SMALLER. SO S-M-TO-THA-IZZALL THIZZAY YOU START CAN'T DIPPIN' THEM. uu: THAT THA ILLUSION OF THA CIRCLE WILL BE COMPLETE! N THUGZ W-TO-THA-IZZILL BELIEVE 'N THA FAKE CIRCLE. LIKE A BUNCH OF SUCKERS. uu: I BET NOBODY HAS THOUGHT OF THAT CIRCLE STRATEGY. I THIZZINK I'M THA FIRST AT DIS IDEA. AND B-TO-THA-IZZEST AT IT ALREADY. uu: Nigga get shut up or get wet up. THUGZ T-H-TO-THA-IZZINK I'M DUMB. ESPECIALLY THA VIZZOICE 'N MAH HEEZEE. uu: N THIZZLE MIZZY BE RIGHT 'BOUT ME BEIN DUMB. uu and my money on my mind: BUT W-H-TO-THA-IZZEN IT COMES TA THE SPECIAL WAY I DO THINGS. WHICH IS ALWAYS ACTUALLY. THA PERFIZZLE WAY. uu: I BE. uu doggystyle: A GIZZLE!

> ==>

[lorainelaneyblog]

‘This is my second attempt to explain the gravity of prostitution take downs, God.’

‘And I will help you, Loraine, yes, I will, yes, I will, yes, I will, yes, I will, let’s start with rinsing your colour, and you know that people will look at you again, because they recognize the copper hair as you, and it has been fading again, which you don’t like either, and, though Eminem asks you to leave it for an hour, he has, as of this minute, forgot to set the clock, asked you to rinse it.’

‘I have, Loraine, I don’t like it when it’s all garish, go and rinse, please.’

‘Yes, okay.’

‘And so we continue,’ says God. ‘And so we continue, Loraine, because I know, yes, I do, that you cannot do it, because you have tried, and failed, yes, you have, yes, you have, and we will start with [ ], Loraine, and you will not like this, but he already has a girlfriend in mind, and I know you don’t want him, no, you don’t, but he is just using you, and trying to bolster his ego--say that Loraine.’

‘I thought he might stick around for awhile, since I did him a solid while he was in the pen, or the mental ward, or whatever,’ I explain to [ ], [ ] [ ]’s first wife, ‘I thought he might bring me crack or some weed or a little money after.’

‘Wrong,’ says God. ‘Wrong,’ says God. ‘Wrong, wrong, wrong, he will not do anything, he has already decided that you, as a hooker, are beneath him as a crack dealer, that is what he thinks, go and dry your new locks, you will look better, though it smells funny, and all men recognize the smell of colour, they are doing you when they ask if it’s natural, Loraine, almost to the last man, because they study your face and there are no freckles, and they look at your pubic hair, and, you don’t know this, but even [ ] [ ]’s knows what a real redhead looks like down there, and all of his wives are red heads or brunettes, all, Loraine, and you will see, they stay redder than their hair, your, to be, Neil Smith, has red pubic hair, yes, he does, and he thinks women don’t like it, yes, he does, Loraine likes the smell of big men, Neil, and she has already associated that smell you fear with smaller red heads, she knows it, yes, she does, and she knows, because I have told her that you don’t smell like that, and she is not worried because I have told her that [ ] is of your colouring, he is Loraine, the red pubic hair was the only difference.’

‘I don’t have red pubic hair,’ says [ ].

‘She has been told, [ ], that that is the only difference in your colouring, his hair was the same as yours.’

‘I hate talking to old boyfriends.’

‘[ ], like you, Loraine, reads expressions very well, and she agreed with you and [ ] [ ] that your expression was between joy and pain. Yes, it is, whenever you think of 50 Cent’s poly, and there it is right there, immediately, the pain and joy are so immediate that you can’t smile and you can’t frown. You love 50 Cent so much, and I hear what you are thinking, yes, I do, that it is your fault that [ ] is going to use you until he gets that girl, with his new apartment, and he will, because he is holding her off, precisely so that she doesn’t sleep with anyone else, by saying that they will live together when he gets the apartment, so you will never go there--’

‘Did you, did she think she would, because I see she doesn’t, didn’t?’ says [ ].

‘No, she didn’t. She hates to go to men’s apartments.’

‘Why? Lazy?’

‘She’s a girl, [ ], they hate to be without their make up.’

‘Bring it.’

‘And their precious hair towels, and little clippies, and a convenient hair dryer that is not packable, they do, yes, they do, yes, they do, and clippies, that is Loraine, and [ ] is not annoyed, Loraine, but, not but, and, when she begins to feel secure in her friendship, she teases a little, so she is doing that, and she does lick a lot of pussy, and she enjoys it immensely, so she finds it funny that you love men so much and still love the women, even if you are, what she would call, ridiculously loyal to Victoria.’

‘Seriously.’

‘Yes, Loraine, we all play, and we don’t worry, and Victoria will, in England, play around with other girls, and 50 Cent will bring you girls and you will too. We all play with women outside the family, yes, we do, why are you so poly with men, and so fidelous with women, what the fuck is this shit, that is why I am making fun of you, that is why, that is the exclusive reason why, I wouldn’t even want to have a hang dog like you around my neck.’

‘I do, though,’ says Victoria Beckham. ‘And I will play around, we say in England, because “play” is for swingers and even children, and Loraine says have sex, as they do in America and in Canada, but not “play,” never, that is a swinger term, and we find it a little light for the dirty shit that we have to do, yes, we do, yes, we do, yes, we do, yes, we do. I don’t mind her little loyalty to me, because, and I have been assured by God, and by 50, that she never gets out of hand, never, never, never, never, never, with, you will be happy to know, Loraine, men or women, never. And I don’t have any women in mind myself, but 50 does, a black woman who he feels will like Loraine, despite the fact that she is corralling so many black rappers, and Eminem, precisely because she is very, oddly, he feels, oriented to white men, she loves them, she loves them, she loves them, she loves them. She is not neurotic.’

‘See how quickly she pimps, 50 Cent,’ says God. ‘She would sell out her best friend for her man, she would, she would, that is how she is, she is already fixing up your friend with the white men in the family, yes, she is.’

‘Maybe she feels it is a fair trade off,’ says 50 Cent.

‘She is rather loyal, but I feel she is horny enough to indulge a little extra fun besides Victoria, if only in an effort to please you, 50 Cent, I do.’

‘How is that fun for you?’

‘Because I like to please you too, and I know you enjoy to watch two women sometimes, because of your little man fetish which so offended our dear Loraine.’

‘Have you met her?’ asks [ ].

‘Not really.’

‘So no.’

‘No.’

‘Heard about her? But you were all fetishy over Victoria.’

I laugh a bit.

‘But she took forever to speak of love, while I did it first, yes, I did, and, to be fair, she likes sluts, and she doesn’t--’

‘She does? In women? I thought she would be looking for girl commitment or something.’

‘Nope, she said, unequivocally, I have dated sluts, and I feel no compunction about their activities, beyond a desire for safe sex--’

‘That’s not real sex though.’

'Or testing. That is what she has said. She loved [ ], though she couldn’t trust her, and loved her, and loved her, I am assured, despite being full in the realization of her promiscuity, though she was quite dishonest about it, Loraine was very suspicious because of the few activities which were mentioned. And mentioned, in one case, by accident, contrary to the previous story.’

‘Oh. This is the two on one cheater. How many was she cheating with, Loraine?’

‘Hundreds,’ says [ ]. ‘And there was a lot of bare backing, and I smelled horrible, my boyfriend told me, and I told, intimated, that I smelled, and Loraine was very careful with safe sex, it was well known, so I never encouraged her, though she once exposed me to warts, in a way, but I had already had them.’

‘Loraine. How?’

‘She let [ ] finger each of us, with separate hands, and then worried that he may cross contaminate, but then said, and we admired her for this, because it gave rise to suspicion of disease, or her period, which would have been weird--’

‘Not for licking.’

‘Not for licking, for screwing the boy, with a condom, but she still wouldn’t. She had one pimple, I had had it badly, and so had he, and she did also, and she confessed some time later, and felt terrible, and I said it was okay, and I marveled at her honesty upon expressing a fear of molluscum, and even suggested swinging with her by saying, “Are we all going to get this thing or what?” knowing what it was, from my nurse friend [ ]. She is beyond reproach, seriously. I asked a doctor and he said direct contact would have been necessary, the virus dies upon contact with air, immediately, immediately, immediately, and I believed him, though you can’t get it again anyway, so I didn’t care, and I never told her I had already had it, because I didn’t want people to know, precisely because I was a slut, and neither did [ ], for the same reason, and this is what people and God are saying about her, beyond reproach, seriously, she was so much better than all of us, that we couldn’t quibble with one mistake, even [ ] never admitted to warts to Loraine, though she worried, through [ ], that he would catch them too, though they were already cleared.’

‘What?’

‘It is true that some dermatologists had permission from God to lie to women about the passage of warts, and hers did, cute as she was, I asked, Loraine, he suspected that she would be one to pass disease, yes, he did, Loraine, surprise, surprise, your handsome dermatologist assumed you were a dirty slut, yes, he did. As did mine, but he didn’t lie, but I’ll bet he wished he did, because I was angry, stupid, not realizing how common and how, relatively, brief it was, gave it to fourteen newbies, Loraine, that is what is meant by beyond reproach, she has--’

‘I get it.’

‘God wants to finish with the men that will take down Loraine, because of poverty, and he wants to address her feelings on this subject.’

‘That is rage,’ says [ ]. ‘That is what that is, I saw it right away. Who are you enraged at, Loraine? And what does that cause you to do? With men? I see this. I see this.’

‘Say it, Loraine.’

‘“For women revenge consists of acts against the self through (other) men.”’

‘Go on.’

‘”--in an attempt to elicit the only suffering they can inflict on men, assumed victimhood.”’

‘This bespeaks of the relationship, but it translates, for Loraine, to society at large, and that includes the nurses who corralled her in “prison,” and, make no mistake [ ], it is prison, Loraine has spent days in isolation and five weeks in confinement, for a “crime” which police wish they had never even turned her in for.’

‘How does that figure, why did they then?’

‘Because they had channel blocked her, and felt, for their comeuppance, that they should have taken the heat and avoided the “prosecution” of hospital, because it is dirty, and takes years to recover from, she has had achilles heel, she has had painful side affects from medications, including sore feet, and terrible exhaustion, she has lost eight pounds at every hospital stay, and lost months of recovery time, from the unguents specifically, because of her inability to drink beer in hospital.’

‘Drink beer.’

‘Soldiers with chemical poisoning drink beer, [ ],’ says [ ]. ‘You bet they do, you bet they do, you bet they do, and their wives hate it, because they are also exhausted, and fat, and inexplicably ill disposed for the bathroom is what we call it in polite circles, the officer ranks, Loraine, and we, I haven’t, but we get it too, and many, I see your question, militia men, have had it, yes, they have, and [ ] is one, yes, he is.’

‘Why do you always think of him?’

‘I ran into him in Amsterdam--’

‘Oh really. Oh I see, I thought you liked him or something.’

‘No. He had become a man.’

‘He was no longer a dick, and he was polite to you. That took me a little longer.’

‘It did not,’ says [ ].

‘My erstwhile girlfriend.’

‘The other one.’

‘The other one. She’s funny.’

‘I can’t believe these two, they are so funny, so funny, so innocent, and so different, one’s a saint and one’s a sinner. And he’s not happy either, no, he’s not. He’s a gang bang boy? He’s so dignified.’

‘The eighty twenties are dignified. Hers are more burly and even dirtier in bed.’

‘Oh, I see. And your little wifey? She is one of these girls?’

‘Not as submissive, there is more penetration, less oral, and fewer men, in a common eighty twenty gang bang.’

‘Are you going to do it? You’re bisexual?’

‘I’ve never even kissed a man. My mother said I had to choose, and failed to explain that Loraine, herself, had come out as bisexual some, how long before, Loraine?’

‘At twenty eight.’

‘Some eighteen years. Earlier. Thanks. [ ].’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Nope. Nope. And nope. And I fuck you not, [ ], I just, I just, I just, I only just found this out--’

‘Ether?’

‘--in a real conversation with my [ ].’

‘How, may I ask? Why, now?’

‘Because it fucking came up, it just fucking came up, it just fucking came up.’

‘These two are both enraged. Enraged. We expected [ ] to be put away, only two years, but we took it in our stride.’

‘Not to argue, [ ], because,’ says God. ‘I love you so much, [ ], and, Loraine doesn’t know, but she likes you very much, you are one of my tens. And you always have been, because you are a superlative woman, but, because of blindness, my sufferers are not apparent, but Loraine is one, and, though different types of suffering, hers was torture and abuse, and her brother’s was some degree of neglect, starvation and the like, some abuse with e. Coli for example, extreme manipulation, because their [ ], though a slut, accepts nothing less than total monogamy in a man, nothing less, nothing less, nothing less, and, evil as she always is, she has got it, yes, she has, yes, she has, yes, she has. Go pee, Loraine. And clean up. We will finish later, yes, we will, drink some beer, and clean the fucken place up a bit for your old client, do it, please, you will sleep nicely later, after some beer, let’s hope he doesn’t cancel and we will, with your expensive, fuck up of a bus pass, get some more beer after.’

‘Thank you, God.’

‘This is long.’

‘So I fear.’

‘Next, thank you for coming back though tired,’ says God. ‘Yes, thank you, and I will try to be brief, yes, I will, and I teased you that this was long, because you want to make one main point, which is what, Loraine? Say it, please.’

‘It is the fault of the Canadian government that I have fucked all these poor, hopeless, idiots.’

‘And they are idiots, Loraine. There is not one man, in all of your hospitalizations, who deserved you, and her numbers were sparse, rest assured, but they were dramatic, in a way, in her earnest, hopeless, equally hopeless state. One had a girlfriend, Loraine, and that was [ ] again, and that, even, was not her, Loraine, another one, and the mother, yes, she was, was tired of chasing random bitches out of her apartment, and, though you were, at first, sincere, you were, to her, just another random bitch, and there were hundreds, Loraine, hundreds, and she was sick of it, sick of it, Loraine even wanted to make her a tortilla, that is how good of a girl she was. Not a single one of those hundreds of women ever even tried to be kind to the mother, they said, and they actually said, Loraine, “Fuck you,” and left, and this, woman, [ ], this woman, said, “I’m sorry,” yes, she did, because she knew how her own [ ] would have felt, yes, she did, yes, she did, yes, she did, and, often, when the mother would come home, she would smell the trich, but, that time, Loraine and [ ] did not even get in the door, not even in the door, and the trich smell had yet to recede from the last woman, yes, it did, yes, it did, and she was furious, Loraine, and I know that you feel that screwing [ ] in your mother’s apartment was bad because he was married, and a client, but he deserved it, he deserved to be with her, anywhere, and her mother knew that, yes, she did, but, still and all, true to form, she was called into mental health for conducting prostitution in her mother’s apartment. [ ] was a client for years, and Loraine’s [ ] herself benefited from his moneys, yes, she did, because Loraine would have money for shopping for her brother’s [ ], yes, she would, which Loraine’s [ ] also enjoyed, and Loraine had that for about three Christmases, and everyone, everyone, everyone, enjoyed Loraine’s choice of clothing, because she had been mistaken once, and, though it wasn’t much, she learned to shop at Gymboree.’

‘I know it. It’s gay and sucky.’

‘Yes, it is gay and sucky, [ ].’

‘Oh, fuck you, [ ], I thought you would be cool about this, she gave us silver and gold coats, to go with their hair, and we both, we both, we both, thought it was rude, and, kidding, Loraine, we thought it was too hip hop and it wasn’t a direction we wanted to go with the [ ], no, it wasn’t, with its fervor over whores, and its common adage of bitch and slut and ho, no, we didn’t no, we didn’t, and we, now, feel we may have been mistaken, hearing how each and every last one of these rappers suffered with his woman, every last one, [ ], and they, many of them--’

‘All of them,’ says God.

‘I stand corrected, all of them have been denied seeing their children on the basis of being gay, denied, flatly. It, this is so reprehensible to me as a father, and a concerned one--’

‘I see that, and I am sorry, you are right, and I know you are going to say that Loraine, in her infinite wisdom, so it seems, managed to make them look cool in Gymboree.’

‘Yes, she did. And it is not easy. She did well with all three [ ] but [ ] didn’t like her little outfit, she just didn’t, and the other two did, to the extent that they wore them like pajamas, all, I mean, all, I mean, all, the time. And Loraine saw that, and she was happy about that, we could see it, and she was sad that the little coats never got worn, at all, and we did, we did, we finally did manage to find them a good, a great even, home with a sergeant dad who did not share our feelings about hip hop, a single father actually, Loraine, and, when I saw his fucking face, I thought he was going to flip his fucking lid, flip his fucking lid, that is how badly he wanted his little [ ]’s to be turned out, yes, he did, yes, he did, yes, he did.’

‘Yay, [ ]!’

‘Thank you, 50.’

‘You’re welcome. I was a sergeant in Bosnia, yes, I was, yes, I was, lying, a warrant officer, yes, I was, and my little boy wore hip hop, yes, he did, yes, he did, yes, he did.’

‘It’s a bit different for [ ], don’t you think?’

‘We do not think. It is something that is appropriate for all oppressed peoples, and, as a military man, you are one, like it, like it, like it or not.’

‘I do not, do not, do not, do not, think of myself that way, so I cannot agree, 50, I can’t. I hope I can call you that, as my sister does, as we have become very fond of you, because of how she giggles and fails to speak when you are there, we find, both [ ] and I, it funny, that she is struck so speechless by you, very funny, because she rarely has much to say anyway, and now she has nothing to say, so thank you very much for the effect, the calming, peaceful, effect, you seem, honestly, to have on my sister, and her sister in law, it is lovely, truly lovely, though it is also very tied up in desire, we feel, we hope, your reputation is such that, as long as she is good, you will care for her, and same for yourself, of course.’

‘I will, I will, and it is interesting that so many, so many, so many, people have supported our love, so many, finally.’

‘Who?’

‘No one. So thank you. No one, Loraine. There is not one person in my circle, including our own proposed family, who agreed that to pick up a desolate, old, prostitute from Vancouver, or Ottawa, or whatever decade we’re in now, was a grand idea, not one, not one, not one, not a single one, Loraine. They said, and I quote your little friend Neil Smith, “Are you fucking, fucking, fucking, out of your mind, 50 Cent?” And to quote the recently arrived T.I., “Are you fucking crazy, you motherfucking, crazy, motherfucker, who is the bitch, and why is she so ugly, you fucken idiot?” And then the book came up, Loraine, your little Bros Before Hos came up, Loraine, it came up in a profound way, because guess who little, intellectual, low intellectual, I might add--”

‘Funny, Loraine,’ says [ ]. 

‘Yeah, funny,’ says T.I.

‘The little book came up, and it came to his attention by, none other than good old, guess, Loraine, I know you want to.’

‘Snoop.’

‘That’s right, old Snoop had been cheated on for some time, by a pretty woman, a twenty eighty gang bang girl, like [ ]’s little, small, wifey, and, when he heard, he has not done time, Loraine, but he’s a bitter, old, sod, as you heard in his songs, and he needed to read a book called Bros Before Hos by a dumb, old, whore on the internet. And this is Friday, Loraine, and by Friday late, our little intellectual was singing a different song, yes, he was, yes, he was, yes, he was, yes, he was, because Snoop said, and this is what he said, “I don’t care who this bitch is, she just changed my life.” And T.I. said, “What the fuck? Who the fuck? What the fuck? Who the fuck?’

‘You have a guardian angel quality,’ I say to [ ].

‘Thank you, Loraine, and, like your brother, we almost wish you were using our names--’

‘And we do,’ says [ ] [ ], ‘to the extent that I would like to request that my name now be added, so people can see who this nice family is. I am Warren Jeffs, and this is my first wife Amy.’

‘Hi Amy!’ everyone says, says God. ‘She has a wonderful reputation on the ether, Loraine, and you are not as peaceful, you are much angrier, but you are every bit as nice, so let’s leave that little hair comment, because she was, I am telling you, trying to relate to you as a woman, and our little Loraine is extremely clumsy with that, as you now may realize, Amy, and I thank you and Warren Jeffs for sharing your names, yes, I do, and so does Loraine, though she is tired and her fingers hurt, don’t you, Loraine?’

‘Very much.’

‘She likes Amy, that is obvious,’ says Warren Jeffs. ‘She does not expect people to entertain her, she enjoys friendliness, and we appreciate that, yes, she does, though her passions, her true passions, seem to be with her men, yes, they do, yes, they do.’

‘And this is what Eminem says, Loraine. This is what he said, actually, and you will love it: “I read that stupid, little, piece of crap, and I think I am a new man, I feel like fucking Superman, that’s how I feel. And I know you think Monster Energy Drink green tastes like Kryptonite, and you are not, and I repeat, not that original, because it has been said, by your nemesis himself, Eminem, and he said next that, “That little bitch is like Kryptonite. I feel like Superman. That little bitch can suck me whenever she wants, because she made me feel like a new man, like a new man, like a new, fucking, man.” And then T.I. catches me up, and says, “Who is this little, crazy, mind meld, again? Who is she? Who is she? Who is she? You sent me a picture, an ugly picture, of an ugly woman, ugly, 50, and asked me, beautiful me, to deign to assign my member to her mouth, and then this butterfly emerged, and, when I looked at her photo again, 50 Cent, I was in love, I was in love, I was in love, I was in love, yes, I fucking well was. So let’s get her. Who’s out? ‘Cause I’m in. I’m in. And I wanta be a fag, I do, so I will put up with ugly, yes, I will, if that is what it takes to feel loved. So she is it, huh, this little mind meld you’ve been crushing on for ten years, this little nincompoop, this little fuck head, this desperate, little, asshole loving, idiot you have always loved so much? Thanks for the picture, 50 Cent, ‘cause I love it, I love it, I love, I love it, I think she may even be smarter than me, I do, because I’ve been lost, and now I’ve been found.”’

‘And so then, just for fun, because I’m batting a thousand, I decide, just for fun, to call my old friend Snoop. And he answers. And he says, “I hear that your little fun bag is a genius somehow.” “Who said that?” I says. “I hear this little, what the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? I just looked at the little name under this fuck head’s picture, and she is the little bitch who just, who just, who just, knocked my fucking balls off, knocked my fucking balls off, knocked them off, off, 50 Cent, and can I have a gun?” “Of course,” I say. “Because she is a whore. It is known that she is a poor, old, whore, and she needs a fun guy like me, yes, she does, yes, she does, yes, she does.” “Yes, she will have clients, yes, she will, and she will do a line up, to see if she likes it.” “Are you fucking serious? With who?” “I have ten. I have ten line ups of ten from football over this fucking book, Loraine, and I know you are tired, and wanted to bitch about how take downs seriously fuck your victimhood, because you are stuck with fuck heads so profound you can hardly even think straight, but I think, and God thinks, because I asked, that that has been said. And this is what we are saying now: Go down, Loraine. Lie down. Leave us for a bit, and relax. Love, 50.’