#the bloody massacres that occur just out of the public eye

[wereh0gz]

I hope they make a full-on sonic horror game like unironically

[horrormoviemonstermakeout]

MONSTER RATING: Jean Jacket (Nope)

Nope (2022) is the third movie from writer and director Jordan Peele, and the inaugural review of this blog because I cannot stop thinking about this movie. It’s a horror movie. It’s a western. It’s about the cruel, dehumanization of spectacle. It’s about the erasure of black voices in Hollywood. It’s about what it means to really see something for what it is. There’s so much to even think about, it’s so dense and laden with ideas that you could probably write a thesis paper about it.

The plot boils down to this: OJ Haywood (Daniel Kaluuya) runs a horse ranch and rental service for film sets out in the Californian desert, with help from his sister Emerald “Em” Haywood (Keke Palmer). After the unusual death of their father (Keith David) by way of a coin falling from the sky and piercing his brain, the ranch is beset by money troubles and OJ is forced to sell many of his horses to the theme park next door, run by former child star Ricky “Jupe” Park (Steven Yeun), who is currently commercializing the tragic massacre of “Gordy’s Home,” in which a frenzied chimpanzee killed two of the cast members and disfigured one of them, for fame and profit.

Things start getting weird when an unidentified flying object - which the Haywoods later name Jean Jacket after Em’s horse - begins appearing around the ranch, abducting their horses and causing all electronic equipment to fail around it. We later discover this UFO is actually a giant, living organism that had been lured into the area by Jupe in hopes of taming it and turning it into an attraction for his theme park. This inevitably gets him, his entire family, and most of the park staff and guests eaten and digested by Jean Jacket.

The Haywoods, along with the eccentric electronic store employee Angel Torres (Brandon Perea) and the film director Antlers Holst (Michael Wincott), begin planning a way to get photographic evidence of this creature so that the nightmare will end and their ranch will be saved from money troubles.

That plot synopsis covers the jist of what occurs but, in all honesty, feels like it only scratches the surface of what is really occurring. Take the Gordy’s Home incident for example, what I would consider one of the thematic throughlines of the entire film. So thematically central, in fact, that the movie starts on the scene of a bloodied chimpanzee among the corpses of its co-stars. Actually, the movie starts with a Bible quote, Nahum 3:6 - “I will cast abominable filth upon you, make you vile, and make you a spectacle,” which I feel sums up one of its major themes and ties back again to the massacre; the inherent dehumanization of spectacle.

Jupe, at that point a child actor, is the only actor that manages to survive unscathed from the incident. When we first get introduced to Jupe, we see his room filled with memorabilia from the show, as well as numerous references to the massacre which he plays off with jokes. He’s clearly traumatized from the incident, and yet he charges people to come into this room and gawk at what happened. For fame, money, or just to suppress his trauma, he allows himself to become spectacle and lets himself be dehumanized by the people who laugh at his trauma.

And it is this desire for spectacle that gets him killed by Jean Jacket. Jean Jacket is the ultimate unknown, a bewildering, fantastical creature that Jupe knows will wow his audience. However, Jean Jacket refuses to be a spectacle. As OJ learns, the thing that most enrages the flying saucer is direct eye contact. If you look into it, you will die. It’s ironic, Jean Jacket is the most spectacular creature in this movie, central to so many horrific but extraordinary sights, but no, you cannot look at them. You will not dehumanize this creature. The only time it gets its photo taken, the only time the public finally sees it, is when it dies. It will cast an abominable spectacle upon you, but the moment eyes are set on it, it will die. The same way Gordy was turned into spectacle, both on the show and when it went on a rampage, before being killed by the police. You cannot look directly at it.

I have to go on to rate this monster but you can see what I mean when I say I can’t stop thinking about this movie right? Jean Jacket as a monster represents so many things and if I went into each and every thing the review would be ten pages long. I insist, watch this movie, you won’t regret it.

- MONSTER RATING - JEAN JACKET -

CREEPINESS: 9/10 - Genuinely, it is rare for a movie to get me this fucking tense while watching it. So many things about Jean Jacket just elicit pure fight-or-flight instinct from me as it depicts some of the most horrifyingly ingenious ways to create a terrifying monster.

Where to begin? The fact that we constantly hear it screaming, and that we later find out that the screaming is not actually coming from it but from the people trapped inside begging to be released? The fact that it’s the size of several school buses, a kaiju in its own right, but travels completely silently, hiding itself behind clouds? The way its disruptive electromagnetic field shuts down all electronic equipment, plunging the area into an extremely tense silence, only to be broken by its echoing clicks and moans?

Jean Jacket makes you feel unsafe. The movie effectively conveys how this creature is a predator, silently stalking behind clouds so that it can pounce on you the moment you’re disarmed. The vore scene, which I will discuss later, drills into your head the mortifying fate which is set out for you the moment you are captured - you will be eaten, and digested alive. Jean Jacket reduces you to prey; insignificant prey, like a mouse completely unaware of the eagle that has already set its sights on it a mile in the sky. You were already dead the moment you stepped into its territory.

I’ve never felt more terrified for the fate of the characters, I nearly screamed when Angel was almost consumed by Jean Jacket. Jordan and the animation team behind Jean Jacket deserve phenomenal praise, this is by far one of the more horrifying movie monsters ever thought up. I’ve seen posts discuss how, after seeing the movie, they’re suddenly afraid to stand underneath the sky. Do you understand how terrifying something has to be in order to make someone scared of the fucking sky? What a wonderful monster, I love it to bits.

WETNESS: 8/10 - We need to talk about the vore scene. The brief thirty second moment in which we see all the park attendees travel through Jean Jacket’s digestive system. The claustrophobic space in which we see the innocent park goers - men, women, and children all - become trapped inside its intestines as its guts pulsate, sending them further and further inside. Wailing, crying, retching and vomiting echo throughout as Jupe’s wife bumps up against the viscous, partially digested remains of a horse, and screams. None of these people make it out alive, they die in one of the cruelest ways imaginable.

I need you to understand something: I’ve always said that being digested would be the most horrifying way to die. Trapped inside this dark, fleshy pocket with absolutely no means of escape, no way to survive. To be slowly eaten away painfully by digestive enzymes as you scream in futility, knowing that you will die this way. This scene warped my face into sheer abject terror and it is absolutely fucking killer. The phenomenal sound design comes out in full force again as you hear every squelch and throbbing of Jean Jacket’s intestines, and the horrified screams of all the park attendees. You can practically feel yourself getting drenched in foul smelling intestinal fluid and stomach acid; the stench of vomit and rotting partially-digested flesh violating your nostrils.

Let’s not forget the scene in which Jean Jacket torments the Haywood ranch by vomiting the hundreds of gallons of park goer blood all over the house. You can see it traveling down the window panes, this viscous, almost congealed red goop of viscera and intestinal bile. These scenes are one of many that made the movie, and this goes without saying: extremely wet! We’re just a little ways away from perfect wetness as I do not believe the exterior of Jean Jacket is all that wet, in fact I would think it would be not too dissimilar from shark’s skin - coarse and rough, perhaps a bit rubbery. But make no mistake - when Jean Jacket eats you, you will know wetness.

DATEABILITY: 2/10 - Listen, I could talk about the insane head Jean Jacket could give you, I am painfully aware of the powerful suction force behind that mouth. I am also aware of how gorgeous its final form is, its dress could make anyone at the Met Gala jealous. Good for a one night stand but I’m here to talk about its compatibility as a romantic partner, and I doubt the relationship could go far with most people.

Let’s talk about the biggest deal breaker: the lack of eye contact. Sure, this is not an insurmountable hurdle, I’m sure the charismatic among you could woo a monster without making eye contact. However, responding to eye contact with horrific consumption and digestion feels like taking things a little too far. Jean Jacket has a lot of boundaries that need to be respected, and you should be ready for the consequences should you break them even once. To some, that’s already way too much baggage to deal with, but let’s say you do successfully manage to get with this flying cephalopod, what then?

I hope you like sitting and waiting, because this creature is an ambush predator, and spends most of its free time hiding inside a cloud digesting its food. Hobbies, interests? Throw them out the window, the only thing Jean Jacket needs in its life is a horse to eat. You might feel a lot of distance between you and the UFO, not only does it communicate very infrequently, but you might feel left behind when it travels into the upper atmosphere to hunt an exploitative theme park owner. Let’s just say that a relationship with this monster would not be a very rewarding one, and as beautiful as this beast is, I would suggest finding someone that doesn’t put so much distance between you two.

FINAL RATING: TOO PRETTY FOR PICTURE / 10

[you-are-my-joy]

The Return of an Empress | 07

Title: The Return of an Empress

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut (Later on), Slow burn

Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

Word count: ~9k

Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive.

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

Masterlist 

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In the 380th imperial year, on June 9th, two days after the nobles were caught red-handed and thus apprehended, was the day of the largest massacre of high nobility in the history of the empire. 

At 8 am in the morning, a total of 18 of some of the most well-known and influential nobles of the empire were executed by the city plaza.

With tired steps, you trudge inside your bedroom, immediately falling onto the comfort of your bed. You let out an exasperated sigh, tossing your head back until it rests on a nearby pillow. Despite getting rid of the duke and the rest of the nobles, you can’t help but still feel a sense of unease and tension. Would the original empress make the same decision? You don’t know the answer, but what you do know, is that you’ll most likely be haunted by the cries and screams of those who lost their lives today for the rest of your life.

It’s one thing to actually read of the graphic murders and deaths that occurred in the novel, it’s a whole different story when you actually experience and see first hand how gruesome the public executions truly were. Back in your world, you’ve never witnessed anyone’s death before, as it was the 21st century, public executions were prohibited decades ago. But suddenly you had to endure an entire morning witnessing the horrifying deaths of 18 people as their heads detached from their body, a large pool of blood staining the once clean pavement. 

You weren’t keen on torturing people, so you were merciful in the sense that you chose to execute them through a beheading, with a fresh and sharpened axe to be exact. In this world, beheadings, although gruesome and bloody, were seen as the most ‘humane’ form of execution as the deed would be done in one swift motion, a painless execution to some extent. 

You remember hearing many of the nobles and commoners who attended the public executions express their disappointment at your choice, thinking you were being much too kind considering the heinous crime they committed. Despite their disappointment, they were slightly relieved over your choice, many were still skeptical over the empress’s supposed changed behavior, but seeing you wince and grimace at each beheading finally convinced them otherwise. 

News spread like wildfire around the empire about what had occurred at the party, news articles being published nearly a day later. The most popular topic of course being the Grand Duke himself drugging the empress, and so countless of nobles all around the empire scurried to watch the spectacle. Thus, the grand finale of the execution came when former Grand Duke, Lee Joong-Gu finally stepped forward. 

Many people had looked at him in disgust, throwing rotten fruits and vegetables his way and cursed out his name. The entire time, he wore a solemn expression as he kneels down without complaint unlike the rest of the criminals who wailed pathetically until their last breath. 

You remember that in the midst of it all, he had looked up at you, your eyes instantly locking with one another, and you swear from where you stood, you saw a hint of remorse and guilt in his face. Your mind reeling as he tearfully mouths ‘I’m sorry’ to you, but before you could even react any further, the axe gets raised in the air and in the next second is swung down with much force. His head rolling down the pavement as the cheers of the crowd rang out excitedly at the gruesome sight. 

However, the cheers seem to fade from your ears as all you can focus on is the dukes rolling head. And somehow it stops, facing in your direction, empty eyes that were once so full of life, ingraining themselves in your memory forever. You blink away the tears forming in your eyes, confused as to why your body was reacting like this. You flinch as you stare at his body slumped over, but your view gets blocked when Jungkook steps in front of you.

The entire morning, Jungkook and Taehyung have been right beside you, acting as your escorts as you had requested. Always attempting to block your view when they noticed your grim and disgusted expressions at each beheading. Jin and Namjoon were also present, but they stood a few meters away from you, ensuring that the executions ran as quickly and smoothly as possible. Hoseok was present as well, but as the general, he was in charge of security and surveying the city plaza, prioritizing your safety over everything else.

The only ones who hadn’t shown up were Yoongi and Jimin. Yoongi, you had expected, though you had a glimmer of hope that he would make an appearance, but Jimin? You thought he would come to greet you after the party, but you haven’t seen him since he left you by the ballroom doors. You were extremely worried, thinking something bad had happened to him, but Namjoon reassured you that he was fine as he had ran into him the other day. He further informs you that Jimin wasn’t feeling good, which explains his sudden absence. Though you remained unconvinced, you choose to give Jimin his needed space, thinking it would be better for him to come to you when he was ready.

When the executions were over you stood up from your seat, ready to leave the area in a hurry as the overwhelming stench of blood nearly made you puke on the spot. But suddenly you heard loud cheers as everyone directed their attention to you, “All Hail Empress Y/n!” many of them yelled out, grinning at you as they praised your actions. 

You hadn’t expected to be well received so quickly, since less than a week ago, some of these same people trembled in fear over your presence. You send them a charming smile to express your gratitude, but this only seemed to ignite something in them as they seemingly cheered your name even more.

Despite the cheering, all you wanted to do was go back to the palace and rest. So here you are, groaning as you lay flat on the spacious bed. You feel the bed dip slightly to your left, prompting you to open your eyes to see Jungkook looking down at you with a small smile. “How are you feeling?” he reaches his hand out to gently brush a strand of hair in front of your face. 

“Absolutely exhausted,” you let out a groan, closing your eyes once more. And you weren’t only talking about the past few days. It seemed that you were never truly able to catch a break the moment you arrived in this world. You can’t even imagine the amount of work the past empress had to endure. 

Taehyung, having found comfort in your couch situated in the middle of your grand bedroom, hums at that, “Mentally or physically exhausted?”

You scoff before letting out a yawn, “Both.” 

Jungkook nods as he moves his hand away from your face to lazily trace shapes on the palm of your hand, “I'm sorry to hear that your majesty,” he replies, sending you a pitiful look, as he notices traces of stress and exhaustion written on your face.

Still with your eyes closed, you rest for a moment, “It’s fine. This is my duty as the empress.”

Jungkook nods, “I understand, but before you’re an empress, you’re a human. You need to rest, your majesty,” he says, concern laced in his voice as he continues tracing odd shapes on your palm. 

Though after a while, you’ve come to the realization that rather than shapes, he was actually tracing your name on your skin.

You open your eyes to stare at Jungkook who was too distracted writing your name to pay attention to your gaze. You just stare when a sudden thought crosses your mind, “Hey Jungkook, can you try calling me by my name?”

Jungkook seems to freeze in his spot, his hand stopping right above yours as he stares at you with wide eyes, “Pardon?” this seems to gain Taehyung's attention as well when you see him from the corner of your eye snap his head instantly in your direction.

You shrug, sitting straight up now facing him. Both your faces nearly inches apart that Jungkook instantly blushes and shifts a bit further away from you to calm his racing heart, though you take that gesture as discomfort instead, “What’s wrong? You don’t want to?”

Jungkook stutters as he waves his arms in front of his face in an ‘X’ shape motion, “N-No, It’s not that I don't want to… but why are you suddenly asking that of me?” Both Jungkook and Taehyung stare at you in a mixture of confusion and interest since they haven’t addressed the empress by her name in nearly 3 years. Not after she had scolded the both of them until they complied to her wishes. 

“I figured we might as well go back to our old ways you know?” you suggest, but after taking in their shocked reactions you quickly add, “Of course if you’re uncomfortable with my request then I don’t want to force you to do anything. But I do give you permission to call me by my name when it’s just us.”

Jungkook turns his head to Taehyung as they look at each other wearily, as if doubting your words and thinking this was all just one big test. He hesitantly turns back to you, “Is that truly alright?” he asks while fidgeting nervously with his hand. 

“Of course it is,” you smile reassuringly, your eyes staring at him in anticipation, “will you?” You ask, you try to hide your excitement in order to not pressure him, but who were you kidding, it’s practically written on your face.

Jungkook’s lips curve upward slightly as he couldn’t deny your request, especially when your golden eyes shined brightly at him, “Yes…. Y/n…” though he had said it in a shy whisper, you still heard him loud and clear. You didn’t think hearing your name come out of his mouth would affect you so much but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling widely. It’s times like these that you’re extremely grateful for sharing the same name as the old empress. 

“Woah that’s not fair,” you turn your head to find Taehyung with his arms crossed, playfully glaring at you both, “why does he get special treatment and I don't?” 

You chuckle as Taehyung's pout reminds you of a child who got their toy taken away and wants it back. Your amusement grows even more as you sit back and watch Jungkook be equally as childish when he sticks his tongue out at the older knight. And Taehyung, the ever mature knight, mimics his actions in return. 

You grin at the older knight, wanting nothing more than to ruffle his hair, “this applies to you as well Taehyung.” 

Taehyung finally turns to you after seemingly having a contest with Jungkook on who can contort their face in a mocking way better, “thank you… Y/n,” he replies softly with a gentle smile now on his face. 

They’ll admit, addressing you by your name sounded strange coming out their mouth, but they couldn’t deny the nostalgic and warm feeling in their chest when they finally did. And your smile definitely brightened their day even more.

“Y/n.” you hear Jungkook call out softly, though he flinches when he gains your attention. 

You furrow your eyes in confusion at his odd reaction, “Yes?”

You notice his cheeks glow with a tint of red, “Sorry, it’s nothing. I just wanted to say your name in front of you,” the ending of his sentence becoming a soft whisper as he was embarrassed to have been caught by you. But he should’ve known better than to believe your ears wouldn’t catch him. 

You have to mentally slap yourself to stay calm and composed as to not squeal in delight to embarrass him further. So to spare him, you fight back a giggle as you beam back at him, “you’re more than welcome to call me by my name anytime you want Jungkook.” Gaining a wide smile from him in return.

“Y/n?” Taehyung suddenly calls out, causing you to face him now. Though he chuckles at your raised brow, “I’m not just calling out your name, I genuinely have a question.” You chuckle right back, nodding your head, gesturing to him to ask his question. “Are you still feeling sick?” You understand he wasn’t referring to earlier, rather he was talking about your symptoms from withdrawal. 

Thankfully after properly taking medication daily or as suggested by the royal physician, you’ve been experiencing a lot less symptoms as the days go by. Joy reminding and ensuring that you actually took them definitely helped with the process. 

You nod sending him a soft smile, “no, I’ve been feeling a lot better nowadays. Though, I’ll admit I kind of want to throw up. But I’m pretty sure the main perpetrator to that is the blood.” Despite having left the plaza awhile ago, you seemingly couldn’t get rid of the stench of blood in your nose. Even just the thought of it makes you involuntarily gag. 

Jungkook softly chuckles, “from being in countless battles, you’d think you’d get used to the sight of blood,” he jokes with a teasing glint in his eyes as he grew bold enough to hold your hand after tracing on it for so long.

You stare down at your joined hands, his large ones nearly covering yours completely. You feel him squeeze your hand lightly prompting you to look up at his mischievous grin as he caught you staring. You playfully roll your eyes, “it’s been awhile, alright, I forgot,” you grumble.

Though Taehyung hums at that as leans his head back on the soft cushions of the couch, “you seem to be using that excuse quite often,” he mutters, not looking you in the eye, but instead choosing to stare out your window.

At his statement, you gulp nervously. You immediately take note from the corner of your eyes the prying look of Jungkook as his hold on your hand seems to tighten. 

But before you could come up with yet another excuse, you hear a knock at your door. Someone was definitely looking out for you as you had no idea how to respond without you being even more suspicious than before. 

You sit up straight, briefly glancing at your knights who refuse to look you in the eye before calling out, “come in.” You quickly let go of Jungkook’s hand causing the boy to snap his head in your direction before his shoulders seemingly drop. Though he doesn’t say anything more as the doors to your bedroom open wide.

Soon enough, the double doors reveal Hoseok, Namjoon and Jin. They bow out of respect before briefly making eye contact with Jungkook and Taehyung, to which they send a curt nod, acknowledging each other’s presence.  

For some reason, you felt a shift in the air as the three men stepped into the room. As if they were... hostile? But that doesn’t make sense, you question. Shouldn't they be on good terms with each other? You thought, but you were so wrong when you could feel the tension around you. Something unspoken between the five males. 

You understand that you haven’t known these men for long, but even you could tell that there was a sudden shift in their relationship. You saw it in the ballroom and now your suspicions are confirmed when you observe their body language in front of you.

After many moments of silence, Namjoon finally turns his attention to you, “more of those journalists keep requesting for your time your majesty,” he reports, only now do you notice his tired eyes. He must’ve been dealing with those journalists since he got back, and from what you know, they’re almost as ruthless as those in high society. 

But before you could respond, you hear Taehyung let out an annoyed groan from where he sat, “They bombarded her all throughout the morning, can’t they give her a break?” he scowls when turning his head out the window as he caught a glimpse of those pesky reporters from the border of the palace walls. Their cameras steadily aimed at the palace, hoping to capture a lucky shot of the empress. 

“It’s alright, I can handle them,” you reply, having already mentally and physically prepared yourself for this since you knew this would be a hot topic in the empire. A topic that the reporters wouldn’t let go of until they were satisfied. But just as you were about to stand from the comfort of your bed, you feel a hand gently rest on your shoulder, prompting you to turn and find Jungkook staring at you in concern. 

“Y/n, you need to rest,” Jungkook says softly, “you truly did look sick early, maybe it's from withdrawals or maybe it's from the blood, who knows, but I think it’s best you rest for the day.” You knew it would be hard to go against Jungkook, especially when he had that determined look in his eyes. Though that wasn’t what everyone else was thinking as his statement piqued their interest. 

“Y/n?” Jin questions loudly. He had thought he was hearing things, but by the looks on Namjoons and Hoseok's faces, he indeed did hear correctly. Jungkook had addressed you by your name. 

The boy blushes, not having realized he had blurted out your name in front of them. But before he could explain himself, Taehyung beat him to it.

“Y/n gave us permission to call her by her name,” he boasts with his head held high as if he was bragging about some great achievement he got. Which in a way, it kind of was. 

Hoseok raises his brow as he turns to look at you now, “may I know why?”

You clear your throat, “well, when I got rid of the alcohol and drugs in my system, I wanted to make things right and go back to how they were before. So I gave them permission to address me by my name like old times,” you reply confidently, having already prepared an answer for this question long ago. 

Though after some time, Hoseok’s blank face shifts, “I see,” he replies with a smile, but you knew better than to trust that, you knew hidden in that expression was a man that still had doubts despite witnessing the downfall of the nobles before his own eyes. You had thought Namjoon would be the one you needed to be careful of, but it seems you were wrong in that sense as you become anxious at Hoseok’s judging stare. 

Jin clears his throat, an attempt to get rid of the growing tension in the room, “we also came to discuss plans regarding the property of the nobles as well as what's to come with their families and who would be the ones to take their positions,” he pauses before nodding his head in Hoseok’s direction, “we brought along Hoseok in case military services were needed.”

You nod, though you couldn’t help but wonder, “Where’s Yoongi?” 

Jin stills for a moment before tilting his head, visibly confused from your question, “why are you suddenly asking for him?”

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you furrow your eyebrows, “Because he’s also one of my advisors,” you answer as if it was obvious. 

As if sensing your confusion, Namjoon responds, “pardon our rudeness, your majesty. You just don’t normally call on him for these types of things.”

Now you’re even more confused than before, “I don’t?”

Namjoon nods his head in confirmation, “I believe it’s because he’s not from nobility, that it may hinder and influence his judgment on these types of cases,” he explains in the nicest way possible. 

Dumbfounded, you remain seated on your bed, “I see,” is all you could utter. You knew that out of the 8 of you, the only ones who came from nobility were Namjoon, Jin, and Hoseok. Their families were one of the few nobles who secretly opposed the former emperor, which made it easy for the main character to gain their support in the rebellion. There’s no doubt that Hoseok’s military family, Namjoon’s intelligence, and Jin’s abundant wealth, had an immense influence on the success of the rebellion. 

Of course that’s not to say that the others are any less important. Jungkook and Taehyung were among the best of the best in terms of strength and fighting, not to mention Jimin being an ace when it came to agility and swiftness. They had the skills to go against opponents 10 times their size, and yet somehow win. The three were known to be the best fighters in the empire, after the empress herself of course. Afterall, they learned everything they knew from her. 

Yoongi on the other hand, proved himself to be worthy to stand by the empress’s side as an advisor due to the fact that when it came to forming tactics, he always had the perfect plan to go along with every scenario. Much of the rebellion's success was derived from the various attack plans that Yoongi came up with.

He also knows how to handle her the best out of them all. He knows how to approach her when she gets mad or upset. And he is one of the few people who isn’t afraid to go against her if he needs to, only with her and the empire’s best intentions in his mind. 

But when it came to politics, Yoongi had a harder time due to the fact that he was just a village boy who didn’t receive the same amount of education as Namjoon or Jin. Granted neither did Y/n, having been born from the same village, but she was so determined to become the empress that she worked strenuously day in and day out in order to fit the role. Having Namjoon as her teacher definitely helped the process run smoothly. 

Sure Yoongi isn’t as book smart as Namjoon, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t smart at all. You know that despite things being said about him, his words and inputs at national council meetings have proven to be of great help to the empress and the empire in the past. 

And so without another word, you stand up from your bed with a newfound determination. 

Jungkook and Taehyung eye you in concern. “Y/n?” Jungkook asks, reaching out to hold your hand, causing you to stop in your tracks. 

“I’m going to go and personally find Yoongi. Regardless of our differences, he’s still my advisor, and his presence is just as important as every single one of you.” You feel Jungkook loosen his grip on you, allowing you to slip away from his grasp. 

“Shall we escort you there?” Jungkook asks tentatively, while Taehyung had already stood up, prepared to follow you on your command. 

But instead, you shake your head, “Considering what transpired last time, I don’t think it’d be wise to bring either one of you two along,” Jungkook rubs the back of his neck while Taehyung turns away as they’re both suddenly reminded of the way they had behaved towards Yoongi. Although they were opposed to the idea of you going alone, they couldn’t argue with your statement, since even they don’t know how they would react if they were in each other's presence again. 

“I’ll accompany her majesty,” Hoseok suddenly speaks up with a raised hand, resulting in everyone turning their heads in his direction, “I think it should only be fair after all,” he pouts, lowering his hand to cross both his arms across his chest. 

Namjoon raises a brow at his claim, “Fair?”

Hoseok nods as he accusingly points at every man in the room other than himself, “Every single one of you have spent more time with her than me, that's why I think it’s only fair if I escort her,” he declares with a puff of his chest. 

Taehyung scoffs at him, “Can you blame us? We’re her escorts, of course we’re going to spend more time with her,” he fights back a roll of his eyes due to Hoseok being of a higher rank than him. 

“Exactly, so I hope you don’t mind me stealing your ‘Y/n’ for the time being,” and before you could even utter a word, Hoseok strides towards you, reaching for your arm and practically begins dragging you out the room, “see you boys later!” 

Jin shakes his head disapprovingly as he watches Hoseok roughly pull you, “would you be more careful with her majesty!” 

Hoseok scoffs, “She’s not weak,” he responds as he turns around abruptly, your chest nearly colliding with his if it weren’t for his arms steadying you. 

“I agree, but she’s also not a ragdoll that you could just push around as you please,” Jin snaps back at him, eyes narrowing at the grip on your arm.

Namjoon nods his head at this, “Indeed. Be more gentle Hoseok,” he warns sternly as he shifts his body towards the both of you intimidatingly. 

And you don’t even need to turn around to know Jungkook and Taehyung were both shooting daggers at the general. 

Hoseok sighs and finally lets go of you with his arms raised above his head in defeat, “alright alright I get it. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Though the men in the room only stare at him with unconvinced expressions as he smiles innocently right back.

You stifle a laugh at their reactions and begin to turn to leave, “we’ll be leaving then,” at this you turn to stare at each one of them, “while I’m gone. Behave.”

Taehyung scoffs, crossing his arms as he plops back down on your couch, “We’re not children Y/n.” But his pout tells you otherwise.

The corners of your lips quirk upward in amusement, “could’ve fooled me.”

He turns to you with an offended expression, mouth wide open and before he could give you a piece of his mind, you scurry out the door with Hoseok tailing right behind you. 

“Y/n!” You hear Taehyung’s voice yells out as he appears by the doorway in a matter of seconds. 

You turn around and almost laugh at his dumbfounded expression. Though, you nearly trip over your own two feet if it weren’t for Hoseok skillfully reaching out and steadying you. You quickly thank him before looking back towards your door to now find the rest of the men staring back at you. 

“We’ll set up a proper meeting tomorrow! See you boys then!” You call out before you’re reaching for Hoseok’s hand. He widens his eyes for a moment staring down at your joined hands before he feels you pull on him in the direction you were running to. 

You could still hear their protests coming from your bedroom as both you and Hoseok run away. But Hoseok can’t help but be more focused on your angelic laughter over everything else. 

“So what did the general want to talk to me about so badly that he wanted us to be alone?” you say finally after creating a fair enough distance from your bedroom.

From the corner of your eye, you see him smirk, “What makes her majesty think I had ulterior motives?” he asks innocently, his pace matching with yours as you both walk down the quiet halls.

You shake your head with a smile, “because you’re Hoseok,” you reply with a teasing glint in your eye. 

Hoseok lets out an offended noise as he dramatically brings his hand to his chest, “That hurts your majesty,” he pouts, “couldn’t I have just wanted to spend some time with you?”

You laugh at this, “Sure, but you and I both know that that’s not the case,” your mouth forming a smile, an attempt to show him you meant no harm. 

Hoseok finally lets the innocent facade fall as a smirk begins to form on his face, “Our empress sure has a sharp mind,” you hum in reply, prompting him to continue speaking,  “you’re right, I did want to talk to you.”

Though after some time walking in silence, he speaks up again, “But I had nothing in particular to talk to you about, I just wanted to see for myself whether you had truly changed or not,” he responds bluntly. 

“Your verdict?” you question with your arms behind your back, a carefree aura surrounding you. 

“Hard to tell for now,” he teases with a wink in your direction, “however, something tells me it won’t be long before I give you my answer your majesty.”

“Well let’s hope it’s an answer we both will like,” a wide optimistic grin now on your face.

Hoseok stares down at you, giving you a small smile in return, “Yes, let’s hope.” 

You two don’t speak for a while, though you can’t say it was awkward. There was a comfortable air between the two of you that you actually didn’t mind walking together in silence. You took this moment to look around the scenery, admiring the window view as you don’t really have much time to do that since Taehyung, Jungkook and even Jimin would often preoccupy your attention, not that you were complaining about their company, you rather enjoyed talking to them. But you can’t help but be grateful for this moment to yourself. So for the time being, you just look out the window, little did you know, Hoseok was staring right at you. 

Hoseok couldn’t help but admire the way the sunlight glows on your skin as if you were an ethereal being. Even the slight quirk of your lips mesmerizes him as he watches you bask in the sunlight. A picture perfect moment that he desperately tries to ingrain in his mind. 

“You know, you’re more than welcome to address me by my name as well Hoseok,” you suddenly speak out, turning your head causing the male to widen his eyes momentarily at your abrupt attention. 

But Hoseok’s eyes soften, giving you a small smile before turning his head straight in front of him yet again, “I’ll keep that in mind... thank you.” 

Neither of you speak again after that, just enjoying each other's company in silence. And after everything that you’ve been through, you didn’t realize that this was exactly what you needed. 

“Hey Yoongs”

The man hums, his eyes closed as he lays comfortably against the grass right beside Y/n.

“You’ll be with me forever right?” the young girl speaks up after some time.

At this, Yoongi opens his eyes as he stares at the far away look in her eyes, “Of course Y/n, where else would I go?” he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “why do you ask?”

She shrugs looking straight up at the passing clouds, “just making sure,” the wind softly breezing against her hair.

Yoongi nervously laughs as he turns away from her, “Sorry, but it’s gonna take a lot more for you to get rid of me,” Y/n chuckles at this causing the corners of his lips to curve upward at the sound. “Unless I got it all wrong. You’re not trying to run away from me once you become empress are you?” he questions with a teasing tone. Though he had a smile on his face, he couldn’t deny the feeling of anxiety at the possibility of her leaving him.

She scoffs before turning away, “Of course not, what would I do without you nagging me all the time, you’re practically my brother at this point.”

Yoongi feels a pang go across his heart as he faces away from her, “... right… you just see me as a brother huh,” he mumbles, more so to himself but she could still slightly hear him.

She tilts her head in his direction, “hm?”

Though he just shakes his head, “Nevermind,” now sporting a more cheerful expression as he nudges her shoulder playfully, “so suddenly I’m your brother huh?”

She nods her head, turning away from him, focusing her attention back to the sky, “Of course you are, what else would you be?” she genuinely asks.

Yoongi stills for a moment before responding with a long sigh, “Nothing,” he pauses, watching the clouds pass by both him and her as they lay on the grass in peace, “absolutely nothing.”

“Her majesty told me about it and left the job to me,” Jin responds in a tired voice as he lets out a sigh. If he had known accepting the empress’s orders would lead to this, he would’ve never done so in the first place. Because not only does he need to deal with a pile of work, but also a very pissed off Yoongi. 

“Why would she give you all the work and not me?” Yoongi asks, tone slightly offended and irritated. 

“I don’t know Yoongi, why don’t you just ask her yourself,” Jin replies tiredly as he massages his temple at his growing headache. It’s not that he wanted to get rid of Yoongi, but because he himself couldn’t provide him an answer to his question. He too couldn't understand why Y/n would give him all the work instead of him, frankly he wishes she would divide up the work evenly but alas, that doesn’t seem to be the case as every inch of his desk is nearly covered in piles of documents. 

Yoongi lets out a huff of air before standing abruptly. Jin stares at him and widens his eyes when he notices that he’s about to leave. Nervously he stands from his seat as well, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to ask her myself,” Yoongi replies as if it was the most obvious answer, his hand reaching for the door handle.

Jin gasps, “I wasn’t being serious!” he moves around his desk to grab hold of the advisor.

But Yoongi shakes his head, stepping back from his reach, “I know you weren’t, but you’re right. If I want change to happen, I need to go to her myself,” he watches concern wash over the older male before placing a hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry, I won’t lose my cool,” he says in an attempt to reassure him.

Though both Yoongi and Jin knew he was lying. He was just telling him what he wanted to hear. Jin wanted to stop him, but in the end, he lets it go since he knows that once Yoongi’s got his mind set on something, it was nearly impossible to get him out of it, ”fine, but I don’t want to hear about you getting sent to the dungeons again Yoongi.”

Though Yoongi only chuckles, “I won’t get angry, don’t stress about.”

And boy was he wrong, because it hasn’t even been 10 minutes that he walked into her office until hell broke loose. 

“Just let them handle it Yoongi, why are you so upset, I’ve given you plenty of work before,” she barks angrily.

“I’m upset, because you never give me the same amount of work as them!” He snaps back at her, tone equally as harsh. 

She nearly growls at his attitude, “Would you relax Yoongi, it’s just pieces of paper! If I had known you’d get so fucking irritated over it I would’ve sent the entire pile to you if that’s what you really wanted!”

That’s not what he wanted. He wanted her attention, her trust, he wanted to be the first person she sought out when she needed help.

He wanted her. 

“Y/n-” he gets interrupted when Y/n grabs a pile of documents and throws it in the air in front of him. He watches as the pieces of paper float down everywhere in the room, making it look as if a tornado wrecked havoc in the area. 

“Here! Just do it all for all I care, they’re just damn pieces of papers anyway,” Y/n growls tiredly. Yoongi could not have come at the worst time. Not only did she have to deal with a raging headache, but now her own advisor was yelling in her face far too early in the morning for it to be tolerable. 

She could feel her head ringing at the volume of his voice, but when she told him to leave as she wasn’t in the best mood to argue, he kept refusing stubbornly, insisting she listen to his complaints because apparently what he needed to say was so important to go against her orders. And so when she realized his important reasoning was because he was upset over his workload, her anger only rose from there. 

With her already sour mood, him snapping back at her surely didn’t help his case either.

“I have way too much shit to deal with right now, don’t add onto it Yoongi,” she spats loudly, the piles of paper covering nearly the entirety of the floor around them. 

His shoulder drops, finally coming to terms with everything as he stared into the once cheerful eyes narrow dangerously into tiny slits.

The girl before him, was never and will never be his. 

For the past few days, Yoongi had been actively avoiding not only you, but everyone else. No matter how hard they tried, neither Namjoon or Jin could reach out to him. It was almost as if Yoongi somehow knew just when and where everyone would be to successfully avoid them. 

In the beginning of the empresses reign, no one took him seriously because he wasn’t from noble descent like Namjoon and Jin. when they would attend national council meetings, no one spoke directly to him as if his previous status of a commoner was still intact. And so he had to put on this whole ruthless persona for people to show an ounce of respect for him. He had to exert more effort to prove to everyone that he was equally as worthy as the other two advisors. That he was capable of doing the same amount of work, even if he didn't receive the same strenuous education as them.

And because of the comparison between him and the other two advisors, insecurities were born and shattered his mind. 

So seeing you put your trust in Jin and Namjoon hurt him a lot more than he would like to admit. The fact that they both knew and yet you hadn’t brought it up with him once was like a shot to his heart. 

And yet throughout his time spent alone, Taehyung's voice echoes in his mind.

“When was the last time you ever treated her as one of her advisors? When have you ever truly cared for her majesty?”

He groans out of frustration at the entire situation. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he was right. When was the last time he treated her with respect. Even though the rest of the boys joined the rebellion with him, never once did they blatantly disrespect the empress the way he did. 

And with the current situation, he doesn’t even think he deserves his position of advisor anymore. Never in his life did he imagine that someone was drugging the empress. All this time, he’s been bitterly blaming the empress about the current condition of the empire when in reality, it wasn’t even her fault. He pushed her away when she needed him the most. When she was suffering he unknowingly made things worse. And because of that, he doesn’t even know if he has the courage to face the empress ever again. 

Yoongi freezes when he hears a tentative knock at his door. Slowly, he raises his head from his hands before responding in a loud tired voice, “who is it?” ready to curse out the person on the other side of the door.

“It’s me hyung.” 

Yoongi widens his eyes at the familiar voice that he can’t help but rise from his seat. He carefully walks over and finally opens the door to reveal Jimin’s figure standing before him. For a moment, the two men stand opposite of each other in silence. 

“I need to talk to you,” Jimin finally says. Yoongi nods and steps aside for him to enter, still in complete disbelief that he wanted to speak to him after everything that’s been said between the two in the past month.

As if reading his mind, Jimin turns to him with an uncertain smile, “You’re probably wondering why I'm here,” Yoongi only nods, unable to produce words at this point. Jimin stops at the center of his office before continuing, “I know we’re going through a rough patch right now, but at the end of the day, you’re still someone that I deeply care about. You’re my brother and I’m just worried about how you’re taking the situation,” he explains with a nervous expression. 

Yoongi’s eyes soften, of course they weren’t on good terms at the moment, but Jimin was right, at the end of the day, they’re brothers. He could never truly hate or get mad at him, or any of them for that matter unless they truly betrayed him. 

Jimin wasn’t certain this would be a good idea, unsure how the older male would react to his presence. And so when he hears Yoongi let out a chuckle, although not so enthusiastically, that alone causes Jimin to visibly relax.

Just then, Yoongi lets out a long sigh, “I’ll be honest, I feel like shit. But I know she’s probably going through it way harder than I am,” he finally replies as he rolls his neck.

Jimin nods, “I’m sure she is,” he mutters looking away.

Though Yoongi raises a brow, Jimim’s tone almost hinting at the fact that he doesn’t know about your feelings which was surprising to Yoongi since he knows how close he is to you. At that realization he furrowed his brows, “you haven’t spoken to her, have you?”

Jimin seems to stiffen at his claim, he contemplated lying but knew the older male would see right through him anyway, and so he just shakes his head, “no I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

Jimin lets out a low chuckle, “I wasn’t able to keep a promise with her,” he answers softly, running his fingers through his hair.

Now Yoongi was even more confused than before, he wanted to ask more questions but felt like now wouldn’t be the right time based on the downcasted look on the younger man's face. And so he only nods in return. Though Jimin’s lips quirk up, grateful that he doesn’t push the topic further.

Jimin leans against the back of his couch, crossing his arms, “I saw you that day,” he added, wanting to change the subject. “The day at the ball,” he clarifies when he saw the puzzled look on Yoongi’s face. 

“You attended the ball?”

Jimin shakes his head, “no I was watching from above, her majesty wanted me to be her ‘eyes in the sky’, or something like that,” he pauses before chuckling, “she’s been saying some strange things recently.”

Rather than laughing along with him, Yoongi can’t help but feel annoyed, “Of course you fucking knew about it, too,” he mutters furiously under his breath.

Jimin widens his eyes at his sudden harsh tone, “Pardon?” 

Yoongi scoffs, now stomping his way to his desk, “The empress told you of her plans,” Yoongi uttered with resentment, “everyone but me.” 

And as if the world wanted to continue mocking him, here you appear through the open door, with Hoseok right beside you. You freeze in your spot, when you realize Jimin, who was now staring at you like a deer in headlights, was also present in the room. Despite his surprise, he bows out of respect. Though you can’t say the same about Yoongi.

“What are you doing here,” Yoongi curses at himself, he didn’t mean to take his anger out on you. You just happened to arrive at a bad time. 

Though his cold icy tone doesn’t deter you in the slightest, “I came to inform you that we’ll be holding a meeting tomorrow,” you explain hesitantly, careful not to say the wrong thing to aggravate him even more.

He raises a brow in doubt, “you came here to personally tell me?”

You nod, “the rest of the men wanted to have a meeting regarding the situation, but I didn’t want to attend if you weren’t present.”

Yoongi scoffs, “I'm not some charity case.” Although, Yoongi can’t deny the warm feeling in his chest from what you said.

You stop, taken aback from his words, “Is that what you think you are?” you pause before continuing, “Why do you think you became one of the empress’s advisors?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at this, “Because you think of me as a brother,” he spats bitterly. 

“No, it’s because you’re one of the few people I trust most in this world, I know we had a bumpy road getting here, but you have to believe me when I say that I trust you,” you insist as you take a step closer into the room.

Though your statement seemed to have ignited a fire in him as he snaps his head to you with narrowed eyes, “If you trust me so much then why didn’t you let me know about this entire situation?!” You jump back at his tone, surprised by how angry he got.

Hoseok steps forward in an instant, “Hyung I had no idea about the drugs either,” he blurts out, trying to dissipate the tension in the room as he moves to stand in between you and Yoongi. 

Jimin nods in confirmation, shifting his body to stand protectively in front of you as well, “he’s right hyung, Hoseok also had no idea what was going on.”

“That may be true, but she still sought your help, no? She needed military strength, she needed someone to hide in the shadows and she went to you two,” he snaps at them. Hoseok shuts his mouth, unable to form words to counter his claim. 

Though it’s not like Yoongi was going to let anyone else speak, not until he was finished, “Where do I come into play? Jin hyung and Namjoon helped with the plan, Jimin looked out for you from above, Hoseok provided the military strength, Jungkook and Taehyung came as your escorts. But what about me?” At this point, Yoongi paces around the room frantically, you try to reach out to him but he jumps back as if your touch would burn him. 

“Why am I always in last place!” He yells at the top of his lungs, “Is it because I wasn’t born into high nobility like Jin hyung? Is it cause I’m not some fucking genius like Namjoon? Or as handsome as Jungkook and Taehyung. Or as confident as Jimin. Or as reliable as Hoseok?” He continues his rant when everyone is too stunned to react.

“Yoon-”

“Why am I never good enough for you!” He shouts, slamming his fist hard on his desk. The room becomes silenced in an instant. The only sounds coming from the broken advisor standing before you. 

“Am I not enough?” He sniffles, his voice cracking as he stumbles, grabbing hold of the corner of the table to stabilize himself. He bows his head low, an attempt to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

You turn to look at Jimin and Hoseok, giving them a solemn look as you nod your head in the direction of the door, wanting to speak to him privately. 

They seem to understand your gesture as they begin to silently make their way out of the room. Although Jimin hesitates for a moment standing by the doorway. He takes one last look at Yoongi and back to you, his expression unreadable before finally closing the door behind him. 

At the click of the door, you turn your head back to Yoongi, your eyes focused solely on him. Carefully, you take slow steps towards him, you don't know if he notices but if he did he didn’t take any further steps away from you. “Yoongi, you are more than enough for me, you have to believe me,” you urge as you stop a few feet away from him. Careful to not overwhelm and crowd around his space. 

His silence urges you to continue, “I just felt like you didn’t want anything to do with me so I gave you your space,” you explain softly, “But you’re still one of my advisors, I should’ve communicated with you better on the situation. I'm sorry.” 

You take a few experimental steps towards him, assessing his reaction carefully because if you saw any indication that he was uncomfortable by the distance, you would step away immediately. But he gave you none. Even when you were now standing in front of him, he didn’t make an effort to move away. Instead, he finally lifts his head, holding your stare as his tears now running down his face. 

You don’t know what got over you, but at the sight of his tears, you find yourself reaching your hand out until they cup his face gingerly. His breath hitches when your hand caresses his cheek, your fingers wiping away the seemingly never-ending tears.

“Yoongi, you’re more than enough for me,” you repeat softly as you stare into his eyes. Almost mesmerized as his glossy eyes shined back at you making it look as though you were staring at the night sky.

You lean your body forward until your arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing him into a tight hug, “I’ll always need you,” you say in a soft whisper. But no matter how quiet you were, he heard you loud and clear.

He sucks in a breath as a sob escapes his mouth. He doesn’t try to fight you, instead, he wraps his arms around your waist instantly, tightening his grip around your body.

But instead of calming down, his sobs grow louder at the feel of your body against his.

Concerned, you try to pull away but Yoongi only tightens his grip around you as he shakes his head. 

“Don’t,” he whimpers softly, clutching onto you tighter as if you would slip away forever, “please don’t leave me. Not yet,” he cries out. Your heart nearly shattering at the sound of his voice cracking. 

Your eyes soften as you once again relax in his arm, your hands rubbing his back reassuringly as he continues to cry, his tears falling onto the nape of your neck. “I won’t,” you soothe gently, “I won’t leave you Yoongi.”

He sniffles once more, “You’re really back?”

You don’t have it in you to respond with a straight answer. You just couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him like that, especially in his current state. Lying to his face knowing that the empress he knew was no longer the owner of this body. That you were a completely different person, but who in their right mind would believe you. 

So instead, you nod softly, reaching a hand to run through his hair. His tears stream down his face as he chokes back a cry at the feel of your nod. 

You smile bitterly, as you have to keep reminding yourself, the girl he loves isn’t you, it’s the empress. He’s not crying for you, he’s crying for her. 

You had seen this coming, but it still hurt a lot more than you had expected. The world for some reason just wouldn’t stop being cruel to you. 

A young man approaches the darkly lit room slowly, the only source of light being the fireplace that’s barely holding onto life as it seems as though it’s about to die out at any moment.

“Master, I’ve come with urgent news,” the boy announced, news so important he fidgets in his spot nervously as he anticipates his reaction. It’s silent in the room, the only sound coming from the crackling of the fire as the wood burns. 

There, sat in front of a large window was the boy’s master, he had not turned around to face him, instead, opting to stare up at the moon as it shines brightly down on him, “Speak,” he commands in a dominating voice.

The boy nods his head, “We received a report confirming the death of Grand Duke Lee Joong-gu as well as Sir Taehyung, Sir Jungkook, and Sir Jimin stepping down from the rebellion.”

The man hums, immensely intrigued by the sudden news, “and the others?”

The boy shakes his head, “there have been no reports being made of the others stepping down as of this moment master, though many speculate it’s just a matter of time at this point.”

The man bellows loudly at that, as he leans back comfortably in his chair, his eyes shining with mirth, “I told that damn duke not to get too greedy and look what happened. He got caught,” he scoffs as he turns fully around, hands crossed on his desk as he traces the letter he had received from the late grand duke a mere few weeks ago in a bored manner, “Seems what that fool said was of concern after all, her majesty has truly changed.”

The boy nods, “What do you suggest we do now?”

He turns back around, admiring the night sky, “tell my men to continue keeping an eye on her majesty. And report everything to me.”

The boy bows, “yes master,” he responds before turning away, ready to inform those of the new orders. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” the man whistles as he leans back on his chair, “so you truly did succeed in changing the story,” he chuckles and with a dangerous glint he stares up at the moon, “I can’t wait to meet you, new empress.”

A/N: Hey guys!! I’m so sorry for taking so long to upload this chapter, I had to focus on my final exams and all the assignments my professors piled on me at the end of the semester. So I tried to finish this chapter as fast as I could!

I hope you’re all happy with how things went in this chapter. Also sorry for all the drama, I just felt like it would be better for the reader and Yoongi to make up instead of making more chapters of them avoiding each other when they could just communicate about their feelings. 

Thank you everyone for supporting and reading my story! I also love receiving all your kind messages so thank you so much for that!

And as always, I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Tagslist: (those in bold, I’m not sure if it worked for you, I’m really sorry, I’m not sure how to fix it) (I also apologize if I forgot to add someone, just comment again and I promise to add you in the next one!!)

@reallysparklychaos, @unknownsageking, @casspirit0705, @fangirl125reader, @silscintilla, @serefara29, @chimtaesty-main, @xxqueenwxtchxx, @diamonddia-mond, @vishakhas-world, @purelyecstacy, @resticou, @woopetals, @magicsweetener, @splaterparty0-0, @daydreambrliever, @strangeobjectmaker, @luna-xial, @m0chilattae, @celaenaelentiyavox, @lindsayjoy444, @layzfeelit, @kimsaerom, @songtiddies, @untamedgrape, @sonnymii, @moonssuga​, @kassandravictoria, @galaxyflab, @blank-et-noir, @nynhope , @midnight1199, @yessii-i, @protontippens, @gguktings, @borahebangtan, @katkrusade, @handsupanddropthepotato, @missseoulite, @cellula-staminale, @red-bow-tie3, @whateveritis616, @ggukkieland, @sbroces, @nnessworls, @yoonieebear

[thegoldendice]

Love Is A Battlefield

Fandom - American Horror Story 1984

Pairing - Xavier Plympton/Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - Suicide, Violence, Mental Heath Issues, Sexual Content, Language, Religious Content

Chapter  - 5/12

Read on - ao3, ff.net

Fic Summary - The year is 1984. You're a poor student living alone in L.A., plagued by your problematic relationships with a false friend and a disturbed ex. You meet Xavier Plympton, an aerobics instructor with a dark past, at the gym where you’ve taken a reception job. You quickly develop feelings for him, and you learn to your relief that he likes you too. Soon a deadly series of events befall you and the people in your life. Overwhelmed by tragedy and with your blossoming romance cut short, you are left a wreck. Six years later you discover that while Xavier is dead, he hasn’t quite departed. You soon realise that if you are to be with him and finally achieve true peace and happiness, you must take your own life and become a Camp Redwood ghost.

Chapter Summary - Five years after Xavier's death, you decide to visit Camp Redwood in order to say a final farewell.

You feel safe in darkness. You know from experience that there are certain places where you can easily hide from the rest of the world. One such place is your current location, the back row of a rundown movie theatre. Nobody will bother you among the worn seats and sticky floors. You strive to remain inconspicuous, dressed in dark jeans and a black jacket.

You rarely remove your sunglasses in public, but right now they're off. Right now nobody can see you. You're aware that the deep purple, bruise-like rings under your eyes make you seem like you're in desperate need of a blood transfusion. People look at you with such sincere compassion when they really see you, it's just easier to stay covered up. You are a girl who looks worn down and bone-tired.

Truly, you feel like each and every one of your twenty-five years alive lasted a lifetime. It occurred to you back in January that you’ve done well to make it into this new decade. It's now July. You always struggle in July. In ’85 you came close to actually killing yourself. It was exactly a year after Xavier and your other colleagues perished at Redwood. In a sick twist of fate, Scott also left this world in the summer of ’84. The very same night he forced you to end your relationship with Xavier - the only man you've ever loved, Scott choked on his own vomit while in a drunken stupor.

You recollect sitting cross-legged on the bed in your tiny apartment. In front of you lay several packets of painkillers and a sharp pair of scissors. To your left was a full bottle of vodka. You remember, vividly, the overwhelming sense that you couldn't continue on any longer. You were, then, and still are, haunted by the image of Scott lying rigid, his once handsome face tarnished by the alcoholic poison that his body had failed to expel. The deadly mixture had filled his lungs and ended his life while he was too intoxicated to react.

Nothing but the most bitter misfortune dictated that you had to be the one to find Scott’s body. All you had wanted to do was tell him that his threats were useless. That he couldn't keep you and Xavier apart and that you were going to the police. In the end, though, he did separate you from Xavier. By the time you were over the initial shock of finding Scott dead, Camp Redwood had witnessed another bloody massacre. The news of Brooke Thompson’s carnage almost finished you.

You made it through though. You are alive and well, experiencing the beginning of the 90’s. Physically well, that is. Your mental state leaves a lot to be desired. You still don't know quite what it was that stayed your hand that dark day when suicide seemed like the only option. Somewhere deep down, you knew you had to keep going. But for what, you just don't know.

You regard the giant movie screen, attempting to take in some of what is flashing in front of you. Tom Cruise appears, sporting a ridiculous haircut. You never bother actually selecting a movie, you just show up and buy a ticket for whatever is showing next.

You hate L.A. The strength of your contempt for this corrupt, seething mess of a city has stayed with you for six years. After your abandoned suicide attempt, you fled, vowing never to return. Yet here you are. In a decision strongly frowned upon by your therapist, you plan to draw a line under everything that took place here. Later today you will visit Scott’s grave. Tomorrow you will travel to Redwood. It's time to say goodbye.

~

A decaying wooden sign looms above you, informing you that you are entering the campground. You had expected the winding road through the forest that brought you here to trigger feelings of sorrow, but instead, a sense of calm settled upon you as you passed among the swaying redwoods. You feel, for the first time in a number of years, as if you are actually in the right place. At Scott’s grave, a numbness had seeped through your body. You had stared at the headstone of the man who ruined your life, feeling nothing. Even the hatred that cast a pall over you during your years away from L.A. had seemed to dissipate.

You pass below the wooden sign, almost eager to reach the camp itself.

You don't know exactly where Xavier died. Details of the murders may have been released to the public, but you have been rigorous about avoiding any hint of that information. It’s enough to know that Xavier was killed here, along with the other people you knew. People you worked alongside every day. As you make your way towards the lake, stepping around piles of dry mulch, you allow memories to take form in your mind.

In a haze of recollection, you see Ray and Chet joking together, stretched out on the couches in the gym. Montana flashes you a smile from her seat beside them, rolling her eyes at whatever they have said. Xavier potters around reception, trying to find his misplaced keys for the hundredth time. It is this memory that hits you hardest. Such a small fragment, yet your eyes fill with tears. You allow them to run freely down your cheeks, hoping that somehow their release will dampen the ache that has begun to grip your insides.

You make your way to the very end of the rickety wooden pier that juts into the lake. A warm breeze surrounds you. The sun beats down, drying away the evidence of your spilled sadness. You can't help but wonder if the weather was this nice on Xavier's last day. You sway a little as the wind brushes past you, as though the trees are exhaling. You think that if you listen hard enough, you’ll hear them sigh. As you gaze into the water, you know you have to stop delaying the inevitable.

You swallow down the pain and prepare to say your final farewell.

”Hey, Xavier.” You whisper into the wind. “It’s me. I’m here. I know it’s taken me a while. I’m sorry for that.” You laugh a little as you fight to contain a new wave of tears. “Pretty pathetic that I can’t stop crying, right? I mean, it’s not like we’d even started dating properly yet!”

You manage a wistful smile.

”I guess I just... I think we could have had something special, you and I.” You pause, choosing your next words carefully. ”I think I have to let you go now though Xavier. I have to be strong and say goodbye, even though I don't want to. I'm barely living... I have to try to move on.”

A choked sob manages to force its way past your lips. You take a deep breath in an attempt to regain control, despite your tears.

All of a sudden you feel a gust of cold air from behind you. Your skin reacts, raising goose flesh all over the exposed areas. A violent shiver runs through you, hindering your efforts to breathe normally.

A voice reaches you on the wind. You hear your name. Your blood freezes. You know who is speaking. But it can't be...

You begin to turn, urging yourself to be logical. It's not your name you heard. A hiker has shown up and is trying to catch your attention, that's all.

A figure comes into your line of sight as you rotate on the spot.

Your brain registers fair skin.

Bare, muscular arms.

Blonde hair forced into a style that very few people would still wear.

One silver earring.

You hear a buzzing in your ears. It's as if your mind is trying to send you a warning. You can't breathe.

Right before you lose consciousness, you lock onto pale blue, hooded eyes. They are fixed on you in shock.

They are the last thing you see before darkness consumes you.

Notes:  The movie Y/n is watching is Days of Thunder which was released in 1990, the week before the anniversary of the Redwood deaths. Check out Tom Cruise’s hair, it’s truly awful.

[skoobyspooky]

thirteen - part i

i. a new home

The Coopers had absolutely no idea they were going to die that evening.

Tobias Cooper was a wealthy man but he was of old money so any means of accomplishment on his behalf was practically nonexistent. Feeling the weight of his own incompetence, Tobias had decided to become a Reverend and to serve the people of the small little village located a fair way from the Cooper estate. For what he lacked in usefulness, he made up for in riveting sermons and pleasant humour. He wasn’t an unkind man—in spite of the typical perceptions held around those of family fortunes and family estates. His family weren’t unkind either; his wife, Elizabeth, enjoyed sewing dresses in the West Wing of the manor and their daughter, Mary, was a lively child who ran from one end of the manor to the other end, cackling like a mad witch. They ate dinner in the library by the fireplace to combat the fierce English chill, and also to hear the tales told by powerful storytellers before them.

It was a Sunday, a holy day, when Tobias once again joined his wife and daughter in the library for their evening meal and to hear a new story or one heard before but good enough to be heard again. Tobias opened the drawer in his desk to pull his leather-bound Bible, pausing such a sweetly domestic moment to read a piece from the holy book to his wife and daughter. The eager patriarch licked his lips and prepared to utter the words of God when the silence that had previously occupied was slightly disturbed.

The Coopers glanced at one another with wide, concerned eyes. Their ears pricked up as the cause for alarm seemed to grow louder and clearer to their consciousness: it was a little girl singing from inside of their home. The Reverend stood swiftly from his armchair, holding a palm up to his wife and child as he moved gradually, cautiously, toward the library’s magnificent double mahogany doors. He opened one to peer into the corridor, glancing from the left to the right and froze still when his eyes fell upon the source of the singing. It was indeed a girl—but it was not a child. As a matter of fact, the correct terminology would be ‘woman.’

“Hello…” he glanced quickly at his family, the both of them staring in wild-eyed terror at him, as he slipped through the door and came out into the spacious hall to greet her appropriately.

Tobias gazed at her with uncertainty, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. By the door, like a good patriarch, was where he remained.

He observed her as she was and came to the conclusion she was definitely not native to these parts of England. Her clothes were too fine; delicately sewn, beautifully detailed and her dress was made of a deep plum with complimentary lighter shades of violet weaved through its material. Cascading in loose, elegant curls to her hips was hair he had never seen in such a pale, icy shade of blonde that he was distracted from the equally stark pallor of her complexion. She continued to hum in a high, childish octave occasionally easing her humming into poetic lyrics the Reverend could not identify. Abruptly, she stopped singing and her lips pulled into an easy smile. But still, she did not speak.

He nodded at her, thrown by the oddity of this whole… set of circumstances. The Reverend briefly glanced away from the woman when the corner of his eye thought it had seen a large shadow dance across the wall across from him, but he could only see the candlelight display many dancing shadows along the wall. He turned his attention back to the woman, stepping for a moment away from the doors of the library where his wife and child still remained.

“Excuse me…” he took a couple of wary steps toward the smiling stranger, only having just realised he was still clutching his Bible. “But… what are you doing in my home? Are you lost?”

“My home,” the woman parroted, her voice startling him. It was far deeper than he would have suspected; not deep in a masculine sense but deep as in it crawled into your ears and made an impression. It was not a voice one would forget.

“Yes… my home. You are in my home,” he enunciated, his feet taking a couple of more steps closer to her. There was something… something cold about her. Like fallen snow on the ground or the winter’s breeze rattling through the windows. He couldn’t describe it; but images of dead trees in the night came to mind.

“No,” her easy smile grew into a large grin with her straight, white teeth—absurdly white, Tobias observed with disbelief—remaining absolutely still. “You are in my home.”

Tobias Cooper backed away, tripping over the heels of his feet and tumbling. He swiftly reached for the wall to regain his balance, staring in alarm at the woman in the deep plum dress who seemed to be the embodiment of winter and death. The first thought that rushed into his increasing uneasy mind was the image of his wife and daughter. He needed to protect them from this mad woman—who very clearly was mad if she believed a stranger’s home was her own.

The Reverend released a grunt of agony when the library door slammed into the back of his head with a hard thud, his discombobulation preventing him from coming to comprehension fast enough to realise that another person was present. Another man.

“… I do apologise,” the masculine voice broke through the Reverend’s haze, a laugh in its tone. “I had no idea you were so close to the door.”

“I beg your pardon…” Tobias groaned, his hand cradling the back of his head, feeling something wet pool between his fingers. “But why—why are you in my house—”

The man, who Tobias observed as being the contrast of the woman with his jet black hair and bottomless pits for eyes, sighed heavily. Tobias felt a strong hand underneath his armpit, hoisting him swiftly to his feet from the floor. The wetness continued to curl around his fingers as it grew and grew. Was he bleeding, he wondered. He pulled his hand away and saw his crimson-stained hands, his brain slowly catching up to the present events.

“Oh my God…” he whispered, shocked.

“Not really, he’s left for the evening,” said the strange man casually, bringing Tobias’s hand to his mouth and licked a strip of the blood away from his palm.

He gave Tobias a mischievous wink, parting from bewildered (and frightened) Reverend to press his bloodied lips against the woman’s. In an instant, she went back for more but the man—who was frighteningly tall—pulled away and held a finger in front of her.

“Mina…” he said in the voice of a disapproving father. “You have your own. She’s in there, darling…”

He graced the blonde woman with a kiss to the forehead, watching as she practically skipped to the door of the library and slid gracefully inside the room. Still confused and dazed, Tobias barely registered the shrill screams, cries and pleas coming from within the library. He felt dizzy, weak, but still he made his way toward the door, rattling the doorknob with as much strength as he could muster in his state. His unwelcome visitor approached him calmly, peeling his desperate fingers away from the door with his sharp, pointed fingernails. He pressed Tobias against the opposite wall, forcing him to face the mahogany doors and to hear the continuing screams of his wife. He couldn’t hear his child. He couldn’t hear his daughter.

“What have you…” Tobias managed to choke out, breaking into sobs. The taller man with the dark hair placed a hand on Tobias’s shoulder as if he were comforting him.

“It’s all for a purpose, you dear thing,” he smoothed Tobias’s hair back as if they were about to attend a public engagement rather than acknowledge that clearly a massacre was occurring in the present moment. “See, I’ve got a wife and child to feed, clothe, and care for and we need a home… somewhere remote, not too many windows, lots of space for Sibella to grow… it was all a matter of fortune for you and I’m afraid you have none. Honestly, I do sympathise with you, I would despise the man who hurt my girls.”

Tobias was about to mutter how this man was a monster. How God would never forgive him from this act of pure evil—him and his wife alike. But Tobias could only stare into the man’s dark eyes, fear and fatigue consuming his whirring head, and then too died alongside his family on that holy Sunday.

The stranger, his wife and the baby they had brought with them—that the man had placed in the library with the mother and her own child—moved in shortly after the deaths of the Cooper family. The villagers soon became aware of the haunting of what was formerly known as Cooper Palace and strayed very far from its grounds.

ii. separate beds

“I never completely understood the dirt aspect of your myth.”

Dracula dragged a large, coffin-sized crate into the wine cellar of what was formerly the Coopers’ home. Their drained, pallid corpses laid stiff and unmoving on the cold, hard floor of the cellar, pushed to one corner like bits of waste waiting to be removed. At the top of the stairs wearing nothing but a loose, lacy robe left untied to expose her toned stomach and pert breasts, Mina regarded the sight she was witnessing with the slight of her head and an inquisitive expression. Dracula, still dressed in his suit with spatters of blood staining his shirt sleeves, continued to drag the crates across the floor into a sensible pattern. He flipped open the lids of the crate—the actual truth was he ripped open the ones nailed down with his fingers, not even flinching at his own actions—and knelt on the edge, resting his forearms on the edge of the crate.

“Not a myth, my love, it’s very real—unfortunately,” he glanced up at her, reaching for a handful of the soil from his homeland. “It’s necessary for my survival.”

“The same with crucifixes?” She inquired with a cocked brow.

They hadn’t known Tobias Cooper had been a reverend and while every home across England would contain some kind of religious paraphernalia, the reverend’s home was filled with the bloody things. Crucifixes, Bibles, statues of the Virgin Mary; it wasn’t a home as much as it served as de facto church for him and his family. Brilliantly, Mina had played the role of the lost, helpless mother to perfection; she had lingered outside of the kitchen’s back door, pinching Sibella’s toes to get her to cry (which had been difficult since the baby seemed to have an extremely high pain tolerance). Crying out that she had nowhere to go and was abandoned by her husband close to the grounds, the kitchenmaids took pity and invited her in. After their deaths, Mina had to go around and remove the crucifixes from any potential path they would make. She would have laughed at how absurd it was that she needed to do all of these things if she hadn’t been consumed with questions as to why all of this was real for him.

His black eyes met hers, holding her gaze unblinkingly. “The same with the crucifixes.”

Mina studied the crates a little more closely, pondering if they were going to scatter bits of home soil on the floor of the bedroom upstairs or stick some of the dirt in the mattress. But only when she truly observed the situation that she came to an angering realisation: he wasn’t even going to be sharing a bed with her. He was going to be staying down here, in one of those crates, sleeping in dirt while she would be sleeping either alone or with Sibella.

“You’re not staying upstairs with me, are you?” Mina snapped, straightening her posture. “You’re going to be down here the whole time.”

Dracula was always calm and casual about every little thing that others would consider obstacles or potentials for arguments. This time was no different; he stood with graceful ease from his position by the crate, wiping his hands on the front of his trousers.

“Yes, I’m going to be staying down here when I rest… but every other time…” he approached her, using his long legs to reach her quicker with his lengthy strides. Mina backed away from him, standing outside of the doorway, while he still remained inside of the cellar.

He lowered himself to his knees, smoothing a hand over her naked thigh and hooking it over his shoulder. She really tried to stay livid with him for being intentionally separate from her, but the man had his witchcraft that seemed to quell any rage she had. She bit her lip when he pressed kisses against the flat of her stomach and then lowered his mouth to suck at the swollen nub concealed below her curls. She made a low, breathless whine combing her fingers through his dark tresses.

“Manipulative cunt…” she whispered, laughing down at the top of his head.

“I agree,” he muttered against her flesh, grinning to himself.

iii. street kitchen

In the corners consumed by shadow, in the streets illuminated poorly by street lamps located every thirty or so meters from each other, monsters would emerge to indulge in insidious desires. None of these monsters ever appeared as monsters would in stories. None of them ever had heavy jowls dripping, large fangs sneering, fur sprouting from their twisted anatomy or beards made of slimy, pungent tentacles. The monsters that covered themselves in darkness also masked themselves as polite, clean societal gentlemen with nice suits and fashionable top hats. Some of those monsters were even women; typically, they were either the cause or the enabler. In the late 19th century, still no one knew better than to keep their doors open and to let their children play in the streets, unattended.

On a quiet summer’s evening, these monsters emerged from their beloved shadows to seek out a new meal for their awakening hunger. For one tall man with fierce red hair—he shall not be given a name—he had barely wandered the streets for more than ten minutes before he came across a potential. His lips pulled into a pleased little grin, stepping into the harsh light to greet the young thing chasing after the rats scurrying in the street. He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, pursed his lips and whistled a tune to gain her attention.

The girl, small and pale, long black curls raining down her back and dressed entirely in black, glanced up from her play to acknowledge her new company. She was perfect, he thought to himself, and edged a little closer to her. A shiver ran down his spine when he noted how fixed her stare was on him and how rarely she seemed to blink. He also had only just noticed how dark her eyes were.

But the man continued to think to his depraved self: she’s just a child. It’ll be easy.

“Hello!” He greeted cheerily, making his distance between himself and the young thing shorter. “What might you be doing outside? Where’s your mother?”

He received a lengthy pause before the thing said anything at all. “Mummy’s waiting for me.”

“Is she?” His voice was high and friendly, but his eyes burned intensely. “Well, I would be very honoured to take you to her.”

The thing smiled at him, but her eyes didn’t seem to be congruent with the action. He was growing increasingly unnerved by this child. She was so very strange. But still, he pressed on; she was only a child.

She held her hand out to him and with a sinister sense of triumph, he took her hand in his own and began to walk with her. He could see the newspaper headlines already: ANOTHER CHILD FOUND BY THE THAMES. He would buy twenty of those papers, he thought pleasantly to himself.

“Down here,” she said sweetly, pointing down a shadowed alleyway, “My home is on the other end.”

“Well then,” he answered, feeling his insides do an excited little jig, “let’s make sure you make it to the other side.”

She guided him through the blackened alley, a distant glow at the far end indicating that there was, indeed, a residential street on the other end. One she will never see again, he thought, amused. He readied himself to attack, staring intently down at the young thing, her hand having slipped from his.

The wind was violently knocked out of him when his back connected with force against one of the walls forming the alley. He gathered himself together quickly, readying himself for whatever confrontation had just been initiated. His eyes snapped from one point to next until they landed on the person leaning against the opposing wall. As the dawning realisation occurred, his unease and startled bemusement filled his every being.

“That’s sweet. You remember me.” She giggled, swinging a leg back and forth.

He did remember her, it was very difficult not to remember the Count and Countess whom he met at a charity gala. They both exuded an air of cool confidence and any conversation with the Count himself was one hell of an experience in of itself. But the Countess—whose name he did not know—had been the most hypnotic and the most concerning as she always appeared to be absorbing more information than anyone else. He was about to learn why.

“I remember you, too…” she continued, lifting herself away from the wall, closing the small distance between her and him.

Sweat beaded his brow, a pained whine emitting from his lips as she gripped his jaw with a single hand, piercing the skin with her fingernails. Red crawled down her fingertips from his wounds, the young woman grinning widely.

“Can we eat him now, Mummy?” The little girl’s voice broke through the man’s fear-induced haze. How could this woman be so strong? He felt like he could barely move at all. What did this child mean by ‘eat’? Were they cannibals?

“Wait a moment, sweetheart. I’m just watching his face here…”

The moment the predator had become the prey, his temperature dropped and every part of him went limp with terror. He was going to die. He was going to be killed.

The Countess’ expression lit up like a bonfire in the night, like someone receiving an expensive gift—unprompted.

“There it is…” she sang, staring at the man for a little longer.

The last thing he saw was teeth.

[kingsofchaos]

So when the crew are immortal do you think the local police know? It seems less fun when they do but they'd have to i think, have you thought about it? Either them knowing or maybe how they find out?

They’ve done it. It’s finally over; the LSPD have killed the FAHC. It’s not the first time they’ve thought it, wouldn’t be the first time they celebrated prematurely, but this time it’s absolute. This time there aren’t just bodies hitting the ground, aren’t just the right number of body bags loaded up, this time there has been no mistakes, there will be no embarrassing revelations. This time the Fake’s are in the morgue, cold and ruined, laid out on the slabs for everyone to see. This time it’s finally over.It’s unfair, really, that Los Santos has lost it’s grip on reality. That there has been some kind of tear, an aberration, that somewhere along the line the Fake’s have managed to move beyond abhorrent and become full blown abominations. Because they came in as corpses, some near unrecognisable in their damage, as dead as dead can be, but they don’t go out that way. Dead then alive then dead then alive, again and again like a song on loop, like a broken record, the sickening soundtrack of Los Santos.

There have been rumours of course, there always are - criminals are a surprisingly superstitious bunch to be honest - but naturally the police have never put any weight behind them. They are easy to dismiss, fanciful tales of gods and demons, of criminals who shake off point blank executions, men and women who die and die but somehow always return. Many have claimed to see members of the FAHC stone cold dead, seen them shot or drowned or bleeding out, and sure it’s a bit strange that the crew has never lost a member. Sure there have been times when officers have sworn they’d laded a kill-shot themselves, but who would believe fantasy over human error? Believe in mythic monsters, in living nightmares, over simple mistakes, tricks of the eye, over witnesses lying to preserve their reputations. After all in the face of immortality no wonder no other gang can shake the Fake AH Crew, no wonder they’ve always come out on top, with supernatural help how could they not? So it’s all just ridiculous justification, fearful stories and desperate attempts at saving face. At least until it isn’t.  

Later the higher ups will whisk away the evidence and initial autopsy reports, will take statements and study the footage, will argue that this was just one more unexpectedly clever plan pulled off by the crew. Claim the FAHC must have taken some death-imitating drugs, pre-planned the whole ordeal so that they could sneak into the station and ambush from within. They’ll explain it all away as simply the latest clever tricks of the scourge on Los Santos; dreadful, yes, an unforgivable attack, but safely within the realm of normal. Of human.They make their statements, swear to uphold justice, to bring hell down upon the criminal gangs who terrorise the city, and the public swallow down the story like they always do. The local LEOS though? The officers and detectives? The coroner and the forensic photographer and the analysts who picked apart the surveillance tapes? Not a single person who was in the station that night buys a word. None who were present have a single doubt about what they have seen, not when it was the most horrifying thing they’d ever witnessed. Not when every outlandish rumour about the Fake AH Crew suddenly makes a terrifying amount of sense, when every nightmarish ghost story suddenly rings true.

For the few who see it before it’s confiscated the Station’s security footage is alarmingly telling. The members of the Fake Ah Crew simply come back to life, go from stiff and greying to lively normality with the ease of waking up. Those who wake first simply stretch, calmly looking around as they seemingly wait for the others to follow suit, not a hint of fear or surprise on their faces. Not a touch of urgency in their movements when they rise, grinning and jostling one another, making lewd gestures as they search the room for clothes. Alongside scrubs and lab coats the Fake’s pocket scalpels and scissors and a nasty looking saw, try on face-masks and go looking through the chamber shelves for other bodies. They behave more like unsupervised children let loose from a school tour than bloodthirsty killers freshly reanimated but the horrifying reality is impossible ignore and as they finally file from the room the smirk Ramsey clocks the camera with is cold and full of terrible promise.On their way up the Fake’s hit the evidence room. That camera’s been busted for years but they leave a breadcrumb trail of bodies in their wake, ransack the place for their weapons and take plenty of contraband as bonus souvenirs as they go. Those whose clothes were intact enough to be kept and bagged take the time to ditch their medical gear, reclaim jackets and jewellery and the Vagabonds mask before they re-emerge. Later the clean-up crews will find the FAHC’s tag hastily sprayed across the length of the evidence room walls but for now the splattered red staining their hands simply looks like damnation.  For the officers who saw none of this, who simply lived through the fallout as it happened, the night was carnage, was the monstrous payoff of every horror movie ever made, dead men and women rising from the morgue like ghouls and stalking through the station like a reckoning.It was an impossible battle, shock and disbelief putting officers on the back foot from the start, only saved from an all-out massacre by the Fake’s clear interest in taking their haul and leaving the station. It didn’t stop them from killing on their way out, didn’t silence the painfully irreverent howls of their laughter, smother the unholy glee in their eyes; never let it be said the the Fake’s don’t enjoy the hell out of their own reprehensible existence. The Fake AH Crew came to the station in body bags and left in incomparable infamy, those already thought to be monsters now truly monstrous, an evil the world was not made to see.

The Los Santos Police Station has the highest employee turnover of any city in America. It’s said to be a wicked place, rife with crime, with violent criminals, it’s little wonder those at the forefront of the danger often don’t last long. They tend to leave in waves; a particularly terrible incident occurs, the Chief swears all will be well and that justice will be served, then at least a dozen individuals quietly apply for transfers, leave Los Santos behind and never return. New recruits will arrive, fresh and ready to tackle the challenge of a lifetime, to serve and protect and disregard silly stories, vicious rumours, no matter how persistent. Somewhere in the city the Fake Ah Crew are laughing, are shaking out phantom aches and discarding bloody clothes. They are planning, already plotting their next grand act, their next attack, and the cycle repeats. Again and again and again and

[lovequotescom]

Eleven films about this has become 36 months since Euromaidan won.

Eleven films about this has become 36 months since Euromaidan won.

Screenshot from “the wintertime that changed us” by Babylon’13 and 1+1

3 months of protests in Ukraine’s money that were only available in November 2013 as an opposition to then President Yanukovych’s refusal to signal the EU-Ukraine Association Agreement ended in a massacre of over 100 activists by federal federal government snipers, therefore the effective ousting of the corrupt kleptocratic regime. Dubbed “The Revolution of Dignity, ” the general public uprising sent Yanukovych fleeing to Russia additionally the establishment of a fresh, western-oriented federal federal government, and had been followed closely by Russia’s covert intrusion of Crimea and Donbas.

As Ukraine’s fight for independency, external and internal, is ongoing, remember the dedication, hopes, and fantasies which drove the Euromaidan protesters to withstand fire that is sniper the assaults regarding the riot authorities supported by a kleptocratic and authoritarian regime, to their small area of freedom in the exact middle of Kyiv. Right Here a selection is offered by us of videos about Euromaidan which you are able to watch on the web.

1. Heaven’s Hundred

“Heaven’s Hundred” could be the very very very first movie through the a number of documentaries “The wintertime that changed us, ” a film task of Babylon’13 and 1+1 production. The term “Heaven’s Hundred” showed up right after the worst combat on Independence Square and relates to the 107 protesters killed through the clashes, most having been shot by federal federal government snipers. “Hundred” may be the English interpretation of “Sotnia, ” a classic Kozak term determining a military division that approximately numbered one hundred. The Euromaidan motion had been organized into many Sotnias: first, the Self-Defense Sotnias, but in addition A art Sotnia, a clear Sotnia, a Women’s Sotnia etc. The Heaven’s Hundred, or Heaven’s Sotnia, consists of dozens of people that died for freedom during Euromaidan. The movie shows exactly exactly how it simply happened that in only 3 days almost 100 individuals were killed in downtown Kyiv. Available with English, French, Italian, Russian, Spanish subtitles, that have been translated by us, Euromaidan Press, such as the other countries in the movies in the series (you want to turn them on).

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2. The Very First Death

The film that is second the number of documentaries “Winter that changed us. ” Here is the tale of the whom passed away for freedom as well as for their very own state. January this time the story focuses on Serhiy Nihoyan, the Armenian who was killed in the center of the Ukraine’s capital in late.

3. Hrushevskyi Cocktails

The 3rd movie for the series “The cold weather that changed us” is known as “Hrushevskyi Cocktails. ” The name comes as a variation of Molotov Cocktails. They certainly were the protesters’ many weapons that are potent armed Berkut forces on Hrushevskyi road in Kyiv. After pupils had been beaten during the extremely begin of mail order bride Euromaidan and several thousands arrived with their protection in Kyiv, few could that is amazing the federal government would turn to physical violence once again. Nevertheless, the us government ignoring thousands and thousands of protesters from the roads and curbing all of them with direct and methods that are indirect to your look of Molotov cocktails in Kyiv’s money. Based on rumors, the initial who tossed a Molotov cocktail had been an artist-architect, offering proof that the Revolution of dignity had been a social revolution additionally.

4. Mezhyhirya

The film’s director Yuliya Shashkov repeatedly visited Mezhyhirya while working on the film about the residence of Viktor Yanukovych. The writers for the movie draw parallels between life in luxurious Mezhyhirya and Yenakiyevo that is simple your house of Yanukovych’s dad appears in ruins,

5. Self-Defence

The directors of “Self Defence, ” the 5th movie of “The wintertime that changed all of us, ” shows the power of men and women to self-organize when you look at the hardest times. The way in which a chaotic categories of individuals on Mykhailivska ploshcha had the ability to transform into teams that performed the part regarding the police is something that astonished and impressed many visitors of Maidan.

6. Generation Maidan: a of Revolution & War year

It is simple to be confused about what’s occurring in Ukraine because a great deal has occurred within the just last year and a half. To comprehend all of the events that are tumultuous’s essential to understand so it’s all section of one drama. The war in Donbas could be dominating the news today, however it’s a real backlash to your Euromaidan revolution. That’s when a generation that is new of demanded an alteration in their country, which is why they certainly were ready to lose their life.

The documentary Generation Maidan, by eight-time Emmy winner Andrew Tkach, captures their tale. You can view it online for $4.50 on Vimeo right here, which will straight fund an investment assisting war that is ukrainian and civilians looking for prosthetics. Generation Maidan has real-time footage of the many action, from the calm protests in Kyiv that grew as a self-governing zone that is liberated towards the dogged dedication of Ukrainian protestors whom withstood sniper assaults by federal federal federal government forces and emerged victorious. Read more in regards to the movie right here; below is a trailer with selected scenes.

7. The feminine Faces of Revolution

Another documentary created by 1+1 which informs the tale associated with females of Maidan.

The blurb states: “A wife who endured when you look at the type of fire along with her husband. A woman whom fell so in love with a typical man that is young and destroyed a hero. A female whom changed into a warrior. A mom whom wound up regarding the opposing region of the barricade to her son. A mom whom raised a son that is conscious finished up increasing a hero. A hero for the Heaven’s Hundred… every one of them seemed death into the optical eyes, but discovered energy within on their own to keep residing. Maidan changed their life forever. ”

Sergei Loznitsa’s image Maidan chronicles the 3 months associated with Euromaidan revolution, from 2013 to February 2014 december. The two-hour movie is a gallery of long shots, which change slowly. The drama is done because of the occasions on their own, because of the camera just shooting the truth. The movie shows the newest occasions in Kyiv in peaceful close-ups, without any feedback, statements or judgments that are value. The footage with traveling flags, burning barricades, and unarmed individuals talk on their own, in accordance with the jury’s evaluation.

This documentary won the prize that is grand the Nuremberg Global Human Rights Festival. Find out more

9. Winter on Fire

This movie, created by Russian-born American manager Evgeny Afineevsky, dropped in short supply of winning an Oscar in 2016, but nevertheless presents an electrifying tale in regards to the dramatic activities while they unfolded which will make history when you look at the roads of Kyiv, offering increase up to a civil legal rights motion that effectively ousted a corrupt governmental regime. In Kyiv. Afineevsky assembled a people’s team of a minimum of 28 cinematographers along with individuals and witnesses to chronicle the dramatic activities because they unfolded to create history within the streets of Kyiv, offering increase to a civil liberties motion that effectively ousted a corrupt governmental regime.

“Winter on Fire” premiered in the Venice Film Festival to acclaim that is much has recently gotten many worldwide prizes, including a People’s Selection Award as well as 2 prestigious honors presented by Ukraine’s president Petro Poroshenko regarding the anniversary regarding the EuroMaidan Revolution. And in addition, “Winter on Fire” can be a contender for an Oscar nomination, showing up on a few critics’ short-lists of most useful documentaries of 2015. It’s readily available for streaming on Netflix, in over 130 nations. A trailer can be obtained below. Find out more concerning the movie

10. All things ablaze

“This film just isn’t in regards to the revolutions which changed Ukraine this cold temperatures. It is really not really about this. It’s best referred to as an universal exemplory case of a special kind of rebellions – ones that end up in bloodshed, ” the creators come up with their film.

In the autumn the film received a reward during the German movie festival DOK Leipzig as an “outstanding Eastern-European film. ”

The description in the festival’s site says: “There is really a scene in the middle associated with movie whoever size takes it towards the restrictions of stamina but makes its symbolism nearly palpable: protesters joyfully and forcefully demolish a giant breasts of Lenin, using triumph photos (not exactly certain in what exactly Lenin is due to their hatred) while a classic Soviet character hugs their beloved colossal rock fragment and will not let go until he very nearly collapses. The Maidan being a battlefield. Quelle horreur! ”

The jury stated the movie ended up being convincing, consistent and constantly in the centre associated with the occasions, shoulder-to-shoulder because of the characters that are main “The movie will not plan to mirror this content associated with the occasions, however the connection with being witness up to a battle having gone awry and closing in despair, helplessness and death. ” View it on Journeyman. Trailer is below:

11. 20 testimonies concerning the switching point associated with the Maidan

On 20 February 2014, the absolute most bloody conflict between the riot authorities therefore the protesters happened in main Kyiv, during which federal government snipers killed 47 activists.

L’article Eleven films about this has become 36 months since Euromaidan won. est apparu en premier sur The Love Quotes | Looking for Love Quotes ? Top rated Quotes Magazine & repository, we provide you with top quotes from around the world.

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• A good friend of mine took me out and had me hit off a tee. He made me understand what was my strike zone and – with my speed – the importance of making contact. So I give him a lot of credit for changing my game and making me the player I became. He showed me how to work on me and my game, and not worry about patterning myself after someone else and focusing on what they were capable of doing rather than what I was capable of doing. – Rickey Henderson • A straight factor is important in any comedy, because you need something to tee it up and also to ground it. – Jason Bateman • Aggression is part of the masculine design, we are hardwired for it…. Little girls do not invent games where large numbers of people die, where bloodshed is a prerequisite for having fun. Hockey, for example, was not a feminine creation. Nor was boxing. A boy wants to attack something – and so does a man, even if it’s only a little white ball on a tee. – John Eldredge • Also, of course, I need my Dove soap. Of course I need my cocoa butter. I need my Listerine. I need the white Jockey tees. They are really soft and comfortable. – DJ Khaled • And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like “Poo-tee-weet? – Kurt Vonnegut • Are you all right?” “Oh my god! I phased!” “Are you all right?” “Are you?” “It was strange.” “I can’t believe I phased just then! That’s never…it was totally your fault.” “I like to think so, yes.” “Tee hee. – Joss Whedon • At home, a T-shirt and something loose like harem pants would do. If I’m stepping out, a pair of blue jeans and a white tee are just fine. – Genelia D’Souza

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Tee', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_tee').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_tee img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Bob Hope has a beautiful short game. Unfortunately, it’s off the tee. – Jimmy Demaret • But just like I’ve always said when people complain about tee times, ‘I just want a tee time. Just give me one so I can play. – David Duval • But the bottom line is, no matter what, even if I shoot 90 tomorrow, I’m going to enjoy it. Maybe people will say “Oh, he blew it” or whatever. Maybe I’m going to blow it, it’s the first time I’ve ever been there. What do you expect? You know I’m not number one in the world. My knees are going to touch each other on the first tee tomorrow. But let me tell you, I’m going to enjoy it. – Jean van de Velde • Control is the main thing, and the tee shot is the most important shot in golf. You’ve got to hit the fairway before you have a good chance of putting the ball close to the pin. You can be the greatest iron player in the world, but if you’re in the boondocks it won’t do you any good. – Ben Hogan • Courses that you’ve had success on, all of a sudden your game turns around because you feel comfortable on your tee shots, you feel comfortable going to the greens, you know, all the reads on the putts. It’s a feeling that’s hard to describe, but it’s certainly one that you get filled up with confidence more than anything else. – Tiger Woods • Edward Abbey said you must brew your own beer; kick in you Tee Vee; kill your own beef; build your cabin and piss off the front porch whenever you bloody well feel like it. I already had a good start. As a teenager in rural Maine, after we came to America, I had learned hunting, fishing, and trapping in the wilderness. My Maine mentors had long ago taught me to make home brew. I owned a rifle, and I’d already built a log cabin. The rest should be easy. I thought I’d give it a shot. – Bernd Heinrich • Elmcrest CC, in Cedar Rapids, is where it all started when I was growing up. The tree-lined course has a very demanding layout that requires you to be accurate off the tee and avoid a number of well-placed water hazards on some of the holes. – Zach Johnson • Every golfer can expect to have four bad shots in a round and when you do, just put them out of your mind. This, of course is hard to do when you’ve had them and you’re not even off the first tee. – Walter Hagen • Every golfer should come to the first tee with fourteen clubs, a dozen balls, a handful of tees, and at least one great golf story – Lee Trevino • Everything was fine until I walked on to the first tee! – Seve Ballesteros • Fighting is like life. You can do everything to a tee. You can show up and fail. That’s no reason to quit. – Frank Mir • Foursomes have left the first tee there and have never been seen again. They just find their shoelaces and bags. – Bob Hope • Get a good jean, a good tee, a good whatever because you can just switch that stuff up and you have like 8,000 different outfits with a few things. – Zendaya • Golf is a stupid game. You tee up this little ball, really this tiny ball. Then you hit it, try to find it, hit it. And the goal is to get it into a little hole placed in a hard spot. – Juli Inkster • Has anyone ever won an argument with you? (Syd) Just Tee, and I was drunk and wounded at the time. (Joe) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • He [Daniel Craig] is mysterious, and I think that that’s the thing Bond has to exude, that kind of mysterious edge. He draws you in, but he is also incredibly cool, you know, James Bond is cool and sharp and Daniel has that to a tee, and he’s also got the rawness and an edginess to him that is slightly unhinged, and you’re not sure what is going on there, and I think that is really intriguing and interesting. It is a lot weightier and gritty, and he has that. – Gemma Arterton • He’s wearing boots, a kilt, and a long-sleeve tee. No coat, even though it’s December. Beautiful people don’t need coats. They’ve got their auras to keep them warm. – Jennifer Donnelly • Hole in One: an occurence in which a ball is hit directly from the tee into the hole in a single shot by a golfer playing alone. – Henry Beard • How to Overthrow the System: brew your own beer; kick in your Tee Vee; kill your own beef; build your own cabin and piss off the front porch whenever you bloody well feel like it. – Edward Abbey • I also taught myself how to blow glass using a propane torch from the hardware store and managed to make some elementary chemistry plumbing such as tees and small glass bulbs. – Robert B. Laughlin • I am always looking for a cool tee shirt; maybe one with a rock band or an old advertisement. – Bridget Hall • I call my putter ‘Sweet Charity’ because it covers such a multitude of sins from tee to green. – Gardner Dickinson • I can wear a suit, sweatpants, a long tee shirt, and a denim jacket all at the same time. – Tinie Tempah • I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax.” I whirled around to find the real Patch standing in the fitting room behind me. He was wearing jeans and a snug white tee. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, and his black eyes smiled down at me. Heat that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable flushed through my body. “I could make all kinds of pervert jokes right now,” I quipped. – Becca Fitzpatrick • I do know how to operate a computer. (Joe) Yeah, right. What was it you said just ten minutes ago? Get this damned thing off my desk before I shoot it? Now make the call, Mr. Hunt-and-Peck. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • I don’t feel like I’m out of my element or anything like that. I’m very comfortable where I’m at. I enjoy being in this position, and actually it feels like I haven’t really been away from it. I feel very comfortable out there from the first tee onwards. – Aaron Baddeley • I don’t think the philosophy really changes between men and women. I think golf courses need to become more distance-friendly overall. I think golf courses almost need to develop a more generic set of tees instead of calling them black, blue, red or whatever. – Amy Alcott • I go to the first tee scared to death every day. The peaks do not seem to last as long as the valleys in this game. – J. C. Snead • I got so strong I felt like a giant…..When I stood on the tee with Arnold and Jack, I was tiny compared to them. But I never believed they were bigger than me. So the mind is so fascinating. – Gary Player • I had held a notion that I could make a pretty fair appraisal of the worth of an opponent simply by speaking to him on the first tee and taking a good measuring look into his eyes. – Bobby Jones • I had to lull Mom and Hank into believing I was in the right frame of mind to be taken into public. If I exited my bedroom foaming at the mouth and dressed in black LOVE SUCKS tee, my plan would never get off the ground. – Becca Fitzpatrick • I have a really simple wardrobe. I wear a low-scoop tee every day with a tux or leather jacket and tux pants or black jeans. That’s pretty much it. – Johan Lindeberg • I have really enjoyed every minute I have spent in golf- above all, the many wonderful friends I have made. I have loved playing the game and practicing it. Whether my schedule for the following day called for a tournament round or merely a trip to the practice tee, the prospect that there was going to be golf in it made me feel privileged and extremely happy, and I couldn’t wait for the sun to come up the next morning so that I could get out on the course again – Ben Hogan • I hurt my shoulder on the fifth tee – just hitting it too hard when you’re too old. – Ian Woosnam • I like What Goes Around Comes Around for old concert tees. Oh man, I got this ‘Sgt. Pepper’ cartoon Beatles shirt there; it was, like, $300. I didn’t even know how much it cost – I thought it was gonna be, like, $80 at most – till I got to the register and was like, ‘Oh mah gawd!’ Good Lord. But it’s classic vintage rock, you know? – Kid Cudi • I mistrust the term graphic novel because it sounds like a good thing to put on a tee-shirt. That’s why the French like them. – Terry Pratchett • I need to use the Dam Bathroom, I need to use the Dam Snack bar, I want a Dam Tee-Shirt. – Rick Riordan • I remember winning the first time, you know, suddenly everybody expects, well, okay, now he should win every time he tees it up, win six tournaments. – Retief Goosen • I still get butterflies on the first tee. I still get sweaty hands, and my heart pumps a lot going down the 18th. But I know what winning is all about now, and that’s a feeling that I like. – Annika Sorenstam • I think I can be competitive. Heck, anybody who can walk to the first tee here has a chance. – Fuzzy Zoeller • I think jeans have gotten away from the original meaning, that symbol of freedom; they’ve gone gimmicky and turned into a status item. Our denim is offered at lower price points for that reason. As far as the men’s clothing in the collection, it’s basically my wardrobe. I think men’s clothes should be grounded, strong and classic. I like simple: a blazer, jeans, a low cut tee and maybe a silk scarf. – Johan Lindeberg • I thoroughly enjoy working with kids, whether it’s The First Tee or the lesson tee with my grandkids. – Jack Nicklaus • I thought Denver and Seattle was a big game but Houston and Dallas is the kind of game that as players, we want to play in. I haven’t missed playing in the National Football League, but every year there are one or two games that makes me wish I could tee it up in that game one more time. – Sterling Sharpe • I wanted to feel good about the way I looked. I didn’t understand why style had to be sacrificed for sports technology. I found when going to the gym women were wearing their own tees, without the technology. I started to think, does it make you run faster if you wear that terrible color or sweat less if you wear that horrible fabric? And I challenged it, and the answers were not there to why we were being given poor design work. It was something I wanted to bring to women’s wardrobes. – Stella McCartney • I went through phases of odd hairstyles and tank top-over-tee outfits and stuff like that. – Jamie Lynn Sigler • I wouldn’t wear a tie-dyed tee-shirt unless it was dyed with the urine of Phil Collins and the blood of Jerry Garcia. – Kurt Cobain • If any guy threatened her she’d probably suffocate him with her oversized tee. – Simone Elkeles • If I’d been listening closely, I’d have caught the sound of the gods having a great big old tee-hee at my expense. – Sue Grafton • If I’m not going out, my go-to outfit is some comfortable pants, Vans, and a fitted tee. But if I’m going out, definitely some Diesel jeans, either some super cool boots or nice shoes, and then a button-up. – Sterling Beaumon • If it really made sense to “let the club do the work,” you’d just say, “Driver, wedge to the green, one-putt,” and walk to the next tee. – Tom Mulligan • If Jack Nicklaus had to play my tee shots, he couldn’t break 80. He’d be a pharmacist with a string of drugstores in Ohio. – Lee Trevino • If the rest of his foursome are bunched directly behind his ball, or assume the foetal position with their backs to the tee, the golfer is reminded that his drive tends to be erratic. More cruel yet is for his opponent to stand directly in the projected line of flight, as the safest place to be. – Eric Nicol • If there’s a golf course in heaven, I hope it’s like Augusta National. I just don’t want an early tee time. – Gary Player • I’m a big fan of pops of color, but I thought I would take that to the next level and do a color-blocked Rolex. This watch is the perfect accessory whether you’re wearing a tee and jeans or a well-tailored suit. – Brad Goreski • I’m focusing on quality versus quantity – a nicer tee-shirt with organic cotton and buying just one or two instead of five that are cheaper but made with GMO cotton, which is hard on Earth, sewn by slave labor, shipped all the way from China on boats that use lots of oil and can kill whales with ship strikes and sold by (some) companies that could treat their – Kristin Bauer van Straten • I’m much better off the tee. I’m not a great putter. I do not have a good short game. – Molly Sims • I’m not out there just to be dancing around. I expect to win every time I tee up. – Lee Trevino • I’m really going to do my homework. I’m going to be down there on the practice tee finding out if a guy’s wife beat him up the night before, important stuff like that. Stuff that people want to know. – Lee Trevino • It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds. And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like “Poo-tee-weet? – Kurt Vonnegut • It’s really hard to perfect one aspect of your kicking game when you’re spending some of your time kicking with a holder, some of your time kicking off a tee, and some of your time drop-kicking the ball. To be able to concentrate just on my punting responsibilities will do wonders for me. – Pat McAfee • I’ve always tried to play golf with a golf club. I have a hard time driving with my rifle. I mean, 18 is really narrow … I have no problem with the course, except for the tee shot on 18. – Jack Nicklaus • Just hopped off the plane came back from Vancouv Little white tee sum boobs & bamboo – Nicki Minaj • My back swing off the first tee had put him in mond of an eldery woman of dubious morals trying to struggle out of a dress too tight around the shoulders. – Patrick Campbell, 3rd Baron Glenavy • My essentials are skinny jeans, loose-fitting tees, big jumpers, and the leather jacket. Everything is black or blue – I don’t own anything colorful. – Jamie Campbell Bower • My golf score is really bad. I don’t know. I’m definitely not a good golfer. Off the tee box, I can drive it about 275, and I’m in the fairway about 99% of the time. It’s my next shot that needs work. – Jason Aldean • My sister Suga Tee is doing conscious rap. She speaks to the youth. She has an album coming out soon. She got saved but she is still doing her thing. She still spits good game. She’s talented. She sings. I don’t know if a lot of people know this but Suga Tee has a beautiful voice. So ya’ll look out for her album you dig? And look forward to a future Clique album. – E-40 • Never bet with anyone you meet on the first tee who has a deep suntan, a 1-iron in his bag, and squinty eyes. – Dave Marr • No matter what happens – never give up a hole….In tossing in your cards after a bad beginning you also undermine your whole game, because to quit between tee and green is more habit-forming than drinking a highball before breakfast. – Sam Snead • Not a mark on it. (Joe) Yeah. Wanna check the backseat, where Steele is sitting? I’ll bet there’s a big stain there. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Obviously a deer on the fairway has seen you tee off before and knows that the safest place to be when you play is right down the middle. – Jackie Gleason • On the first tee I kept telling myself, “Trust yourself, you can do it.”- Annika Sorenstam • Once I graduated from NYU, I started making custom vintage tees for my friends and it just took off from there. – Charlotte Ronson • One of the most fascinating things about golf is how it reflects the cycle of life. No matter what you shoot – the next day you have to go back to the first tee and begin all over again and make yourself into something. – Peter Jacobsen • Only because I’m not a morning person. (Joe) And you’re not a night person either. Face it, babe. You’ve only got two good minutes a day. The minute before noon and the minute right after. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Only three things them ladies talk about: they kids, they clothes, and they friends. I hear the word Kennedy, I know they ain’t discussing no politic. They talking about what Miss Jackie done wore on the tee-vee. – Kathryn Stockett • Ooo, he’s snotty. I like him already. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Part of wearing a tee is saying, ‘I’m comfortable and casual.’ – Ryan Seacrest • Patience is a virtue. (Tee) Excuse me, pot, could you not pick on the kettle? (Joe) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Reminiscing No one knows … until you live it, to be there, to tee it up each week, to get yourself ready, the players and whatever else…. I think its a very, very difficult, tough and demanding job. And to be able to, particularly, stay at the level of expertise that we have over the years. Along with the fact that we have made football a presence at BYU. I think those are the things that are about as satisfying as anything that has happened. Then, of course, the players…. I think the thing that will be the most difficult is leaving the relationships and the involvement. – LaVell Edwards • Sam Snead did to the tee-shot what Roger Bannister did to the four-minute mile. – Byron Nelson • Tee Vee football: one team wins, one team loses — they tie — who cares? And why? – Edward Abbey • Tee your ball high…air offers less resistance than dirt. – Jack Nicklaus • The devil doesn’t wear prada; I’m clearly in a — white tee. – Tyler, The Creator • The first time I met [Sylvester Stallone], he had golf tees up his nose. So I figured we were going to be OK. – Sandra Bullock • The fourth tee brings out a mixture of excitement and anticipation, for about 220 yards down the fairway you catch a glimpse of Stillwater Cove, and realize you’ll be walking along this spectacular meeting of land and sea for the next two hours. – Doug Ferguson • The Japanese eat, sleep, and breathe golf; the only thing they don’t do is actually play it, because to get on a course, you have to make a reservation roughly 137 years in advance, which means that by the time you actually get to the first tee you are deceased. Of course, in golf this is not really a handicap. – Dave Barry • The man who runs from his office to the golf club, gulps a sandwich, belches and races to the first tee has no business howling in anguish when he puts his first two shots in the woods, then tops a 3-iron shot into the pond. – Tony Lema • The NBAs a Fortune 500 company. Thats how you look at it. And all the other Fortune 500 companies out there in the world, you dont see their CEOs and COOs going to work with white tees and baggy clothes and stuff like that. So I have to take that same approach. – Carmelo Anthony • The only times you touch the ball with your hand are when you tee it up and when you pick it out of the cup. The hell with television towers and cables and burrowing animals and the thousand and one things that are referred to as ‘not part of the golf course’. If you hit the ball off the fairway, you play it from there. – Ken Venturi • The subconscious mind is probably the most important factor in being a good golfer. It keeps distractions on the course from ruining a good round. You should practice, develop your swing, and do most of your thinking on the practice tee so that when you play in competition, you can hit the ball automatically. – Wiffy Cox • There are three things being a celebrity is good for: raising money for charity, dinner reservations and tee times. – Dennis Quaid • There was a time when all I cared about was the next game, the next party, the next tee time. – Brett Favre • There’s not much pressure on the golf Tour. Walking to the first tee is in no way comparable to walking through the jungle in combat – Larry Nelson • To quit between tee and green is more habit-forming than drinking a highball before breakfast. – Sam Snead • Trust me, Joe. You’re not a cowboy. The only cows you ever saw as a kid came under a plastic wrap in the grocery store or in a paper wrapped from McDonald’s. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • We don’t want civilians walking around who know about us. Got it? (Tee) Wow, you’re like a ferocious bunny, aren’t you? (Nathan) Worse. A bunny can be fluffy sometimes. Tee always goes for the throat. Trust me. I’m her partner and she’s shot me three times now. (Joe) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • We have 51 golf courses in Palm Springs. He [President Ford] never decides which course he will play until after the first tee shot. – Bob Hope • We never let our people just go. (Joe) What are you? Wolfram and Hart? (Steele) Oh, no, sweetie, they just take your soul for service. We intend to take even more than that. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Well, I think that Augusta is not the same golf course that I grew up on. Bobby Jones’ philosophy was giving you space off the tee; if you put it in the right side of the fairway, you ended up getting the right angle to the green. – Jack Nicklaus • What a shame to waste those great shots on the practice tee. – Walter Hagen • What’s the longest walk in golf? It’s from the practice tee to the first tee. I don’t care if it’s 10 yards. It’s the longest walk in golf. Winners take their swing with them. Losers don’t. – Moe Norman • When Ballesteros triumphed at the British Open in 1979, for his first major win, he hit so few fairways off the tee that he was often mistaken for a gallery marshall. – Dan Jenkins • When I decided to launch my first knitwear line, it was because I saw a void in the basics category. The editors were always looking for cool, fashion-forward tees and sweaters. So that’s where I started. – Alexander Wang • When I got to the first tee on the first day, to hear the cheers, it was like all the oxygen got sucked out. It was hard to pull the club back. – Patrick Reed • When I have a match to play, I begin to relax as soon as I wake up. Everything I do, I do slow and easy. That goes for stroking the razor, getting dressed, and eating my breakfast. I’m practically in slow motion. By the time I’m ready to tee off, I’m so used to taking my time that it’s impossible to hurry my swing. – Walter Hagen • When I learned that there was such a thing as an atheist, I looked it up – and found out that the definition fitted me to a tee. Finally, at the age of 24, I found out who and what I was. Better late than never. – Madalyn Murray O’Hair • When it come to da: ” What it do?! I don’t fall for da: “Woop- TeE- WoOoo! – Erykah Badu • Why is it when I’m the one shot, I’m a baby, but when it’s you, it’s a matter of life and death and national security? (Joe) Because I’m cuter in a short skirt. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Yeah. Kip gets to guard you and I get to house-sit. Life bites the big tee-tawa. (Syn) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You are so vicious. (Tee) Hence the nickname. (Syd) You know it’s bad when you make me look like Glinda the Good Witch, right? (Tee) Just call me Elphaba. But don’t drop a house on me, ‘kay? (Syd) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You don’t lose your swing between the ninth green and the tenth tee, and you don’t lose your swing from one day to the next. If you think you do, something is going on that you don’t understand. A diary might help explain it to you. – Harvey Penick • You draw on your own childhood every time you tee it up as an actor. – Ron Perlman • You ever go up to the tee and say, ‘Don’t hit it left, don’t hit it right’? That’s your conscious mind. My body knows how to play golf. I’ve trained it to do that. It’s just a matter of keeping my conscious mind out of it. – Tiger Woods • You hear stories about me beating my brains out practicing, but the truth is, I was enjoying myself. I couldn’t wait to get up in the morning so I could hit balls. I’d be at the practice tee at the crack of dawn, hit balls for a few hours, then take a break and get right back to it. And I still thoroughly enjoy it. When I’m hitting the ball where I want, hard and crisply – when anyone is – it’s a joy that very few people experience. – Ben Hogan • You just don’t have the time to worry about what others are doing. You just want to take care of your own business. You are focused on that tee shot on the 10th tee and making it to the finish line. It’s one of the most stressful moments in professional golf, but you have worked so hard to get to that point, that it really is fun. – Mike Weir • You know what I hate about rock? I hate tie-dyed tee shirts. I wouldn’t wear a tie-dyed tee shirt unless it was dyed with the urine of Phil Collins and the blood of Jerry Garcia. – Kurt Cobain • You’re such a crybaby. (Tee) Let me almost shoot off one of your testicles and see how you cope. (Joe) You shouldn’t have moved, Joe. It was your fault. (Tee) Yeah, everything’s my fault. (Joe) Good, then we agree. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Your white tee, well to me, looks like a nightgown; Make your mama proud, take that thing two sizes down. – Andre Benjamin

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[equitiesstocks]

Tees Quotes

Official Website: Tees Quotes

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• A good friend of mine took me out and had me hit off a tee. He made me understand what was my strike zone and – with my speed – the importance of making contact. So I give him a lot of credit for changing my game and making me the player I became. He showed me how to work on me and my game, and not worry about patterning myself after someone else and focusing on what they were capable of doing rather than what I was capable of doing. – Rickey Henderson • A straight factor is important in any comedy, because you need something to tee it up and also to ground it. – Jason Bateman • Aggression is part of the masculine design, we are hardwired for it…. Little girls do not invent games where large numbers of people die, where bloodshed is a prerequisite for having fun. Hockey, for example, was not a feminine creation. Nor was boxing. A boy wants to attack something – and so does a man, even if it’s only a little white ball on a tee. – John Eldredge • Also, of course, I need my Dove soap. Of course I need my cocoa butter. I need my Listerine. I need the white Jockey tees. They are really soft and comfortable. – DJ Khaled • And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like “Poo-tee-weet? – Kurt Vonnegut • Are you all right?” “Oh my god! I phased!” “Are you all right?” “Are you?” “It was strange.” “I can’t believe I phased just then! That’s never…it was totally your fault.” “I like to think so, yes.” “Tee hee. – Joss Whedon • At home, a T-shirt and something loose like harem pants would do. If I’m stepping out, a pair of blue jeans and a white tee are just fine. – Genelia D’Souza

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Tee', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_tee').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_tee img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Bob Hope has a beautiful short game. Unfortunately, it’s off the tee. – Jimmy Demaret • But just like I’ve always said when people complain about tee times, ‘I just want a tee time. Just give me one so I can play. – David Duval • But the bottom line is, no matter what, even if I shoot 90 tomorrow, I’m going to enjoy it. Maybe people will say “Oh, he blew it” or whatever. Maybe I’m going to blow it, it’s the first time I’ve ever been there. What do you expect? You know I’m not number one in the world. My knees are going to touch each other on the first tee tomorrow. But let me tell you, I’m going to enjoy it. – Jean van de Velde • Control is the main thing, and the tee shot is the most important shot in golf. You’ve got to hit the fairway before you have a good chance of putting the ball close to the pin. You can be the greatest iron player in the world, but if you’re in the boondocks it won’t do you any good. – Ben Hogan • Courses that you’ve had success on, all of a sudden your game turns around because you feel comfortable on your tee shots, you feel comfortable going to the greens, you know, all the reads on the putts. It’s a feeling that’s hard to describe, but it’s certainly one that you get filled up with confidence more than anything else. – Tiger Woods • Edward Abbey said you must brew your own beer; kick in you Tee Vee; kill your own beef; build your cabin and piss off the front porch whenever you bloody well feel like it. I already had a good start. As a teenager in rural Maine, after we came to America, I had learned hunting, fishing, and trapping in the wilderness. My Maine mentors had long ago taught me to make home brew. I owned a rifle, and I’d already built a log cabin. The rest should be easy. I thought I’d give it a shot. – Bernd Heinrich • Elmcrest CC, in Cedar Rapids, is where it all started when I was growing up. The tree-lined course has a very demanding layout that requires you to be accurate off the tee and avoid a number of well-placed water hazards on some of the holes. – Zach Johnson • Every golfer can expect to have four bad shots in a round and when you do, just put them out of your mind. This, of course is hard to do when you’ve had them and you’re not even off the first tee. – Walter Hagen • Every golfer should come to the first tee with fourteen clubs, a dozen balls, a handful of tees, and at least one great golf story – Lee Trevino • Everything was fine until I walked on to the first tee! – Seve Ballesteros • Fighting is like life. You can do everything to a tee. You can show up and fail. That’s no reason to quit. – Frank Mir • Foursomes have left the first tee there and have never been seen again. They just find their shoelaces and bags. – Bob Hope • Get a good jean, a good tee, a good whatever because you can just switch that stuff up and you have like 8,000 different outfits with a few things. – Zendaya • Golf is a stupid game. You tee up this little ball, really this tiny ball. Then you hit it, try to find it, hit it. And the goal is to get it into a little hole placed in a hard spot. – Juli Inkster • Has anyone ever won an argument with you? (Syd) Just Tee, and I was drunk and wounded at the time. (Joe) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • He [Daniel Craig] is mysterious, and I think that that’s the thing Bond has to exude, that kind of mysterious edge. He draws you in, but he is also incredibly cool, you know, James Bond is cool and sharp and Daniel has that to a tee, and he’s also got the rawness and an edginess to him that is slightly unhinged, and you’re not sure what is going on there, and I think that is really intriguing and interesting. It is a lot weightier and gritty, and he has that. – Gemma Arterton • He’s wearing boots, a kilt, and a long-sleeve tee. No coat, even though it’s December. Beautiful people don’t need coats. They’ve got their auras to keep them warm. – Jennifer Donnelly • Hole in One: an occurence in which a ball is hit directly from the tee into the hole in a single shot by a golfer playing alone. – Henry Beard • How to Overthrow the System: brew your own beer; kick in your Tee Vee; kill your own beef; build your own cabin and piss off the front porch whenever you bloody well feel like it. – Edward Abbey • I also taught myself how to blow glass using a propane torch from the hardware store and managed to make some elementary chemistry plumbing such as tees and small glass bulbs. – Robert B. Laughlin • I am always looking for a cool tee shirt; maybe one with a rock band or an old advertisement. – Bridget Hall • I call my putter ‘Sweet Charity’ because it covers such a multitude of sins from tee to green. – Gardner Dickinson • I can wear a suit, sweatpants, a long tee shirt, and a denim jacket all at the same time. – Tinie Tempah • I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax.” I whirled around to find the real Patch standing in the fitting room behind me. He was wearing jeans and a snug white tee. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, and his black eyes smiled down at me. Heat that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable flushed through my body. “I could make all kinds of pervert jokes right now,” I quipped. – Becca Fitzpatrick • I do know how to operate a computer. (Joe) Yeah, right. What was it you said just ten minutes ago? Get this damned thing off my desk before I shoot it? Now make the call, Mr. Hunt-and-Peck. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • I don’t feel like I’m out of my element or anything like that. I’m very comfortable where I’m at. I enjoy being in this position, and actually it feels like I haven’t really been away from it. I feel very comfortable out there from the first tee onwards. – Aaron Baddeley • I don’t think the philosophy really changes between men and women. I think golf courses need to become more distance-friendly overall. I think golf courses almost need to develop a more generic set of tees instead of calling them black, blue, red or whatever. – Amy Alcott • I go to the first tee scared to death every day. The peaks do not seem to last as long as the valleys in this game. – J. C. Snead • I got so strong I felt like a giant…..When I stood on the tee with Arnold and Jack, I was tiny compared to them. But I never believed they were bigger than me. So the mind is so fascinating. – Gary Player • I had held a notion that I could make a pretty fair appraisal of the worth of an opponent simply by speaking to him on the first tee and taking a good measuring look into his eyes. – Bobby Jones • I had to lull Mom and Hank into believing I was in the right frame of mind to be taken into public. If I exited my bedroom foaming at the mouth and dressed in black LOVE SUCKS tee, my plan would never get off the ground. – Becca Fitzpatrick • I have a really simple wardrobe. I wear a low-scoop tee every day with a tux or leather jacket and tux pants or black jeans. That’s pretty much it. – Johan Lindeberg • I have really enjoyed every minute I have spent in golf- above all, the many wonderful friends I have made. I have loved playing the game and practicing it. Whether my schedule for the following day called for a tournament round or merely a trip to the practice tee, the prospect that there was going to be golf in it made me feel privileged and extremely happy, and I couldn’t wait for the sun to come up the next morning so that I could get out on the course again – Ben Hogan • I hurt my shoulder on the fifth tee – just hitting it too hard when you’re too old. – Ian Woosnam • I like What Goes Around Comes Around for old concert tees. Oh man, I got this ‘Sgt. Pepper’ cartoon Beatles shirt there; it was, like, $300. I didn’t even know how much it cost – I thought it was gonna be, like, $80 at most – till I got to the register and was like, ‘Oh mah gawd!’ Good Lord. But it’s classic vintage rock, you know? – Kid Cudi • I mistrust the term graphic novel because it sounds like a good thing to put on a tee-shirt. That’s why the French like them. – Terry Pratchett • I need to use the Dam Bathroom, I need to use the Dam Snack bar, I want a Dam Tee-Shirt. – Rick Riordan • I remember winning the first time, you know, suddenly everybody expects, well, okay, now he should win every time he tees it up, win six tournaments. – Retief Goosen • I still get butterflies on the first tee. I still get sweaty hands, and my heart pumps a lot going down the 18th. But I know what winning is all about now, and that’s a feeling that I like. – Annika Sorenstam • I think I can be competitive. Heck, anybody who can walk to the first tee here has a chance. – Fuzzy Zoeller • I think jeans have gotten away from the original meaning, that symbol of freedom; they’ve gone gimmicky and turned into a status item. Our denim is offered at lower price points for that reason. As far as the men’s clothing in the collection, it’s basically my wardrobe. I think men’s clothes should be grounded, strong and classic. I like simple: a blazer, jeans, a low cut tee and maybe a silk scarf. – Johan Lindeberg • I thoroughly enjoy working with kids, whether it’s The First Tee or the lesson tee with my grandkids. – Jack Nicklaus • I thought Denver and Seattle was a big game but Houston and Dallas is the kind of game that as players, we want to play in. I haven’t missed playing in the National Football League, but every year there are one or two games that makes me wish I could tee it up in that game one more time. – Sterling Sharpe • I wanted to feel good about the way I looked. I didn’t understand why style had to be sacrificed for sports technology. I found when going to the gym women were wearing their own tees, without the technology. I started to think, does it make you run faster if you wear that terrible color or sweat less if you wear that horrible fabric? And I challenged it, and the answers were not there to why we were being given poor design work. It was something I wanted to bring to women’s wardrobes. – Stella McCartney • I went through phases of odd hairstyles and tank top-over-tee outfits and stuff like that. – Jamie Lynn Sigler • I wouldn’t wear a tie-dyed tee-shirt unless it was dyed with the urine of Phil Collins and the blood of Jerry Garcia. – Kurt Cobain • If any guy threatened her she’d probably suffocate him with her oversized tee. – Simone Elkeles • If I’d been listening closely, I’d have caught the sound of the gods having a great big old tee-hee at my expense. – Sue Grafton • If I’m not going out, my go-to outfit is some comfortable pants, Vans, and a fitted tee. But if I’m going out, definitely some Diesel jeans, either some super cool boots or nice shoes, and then a button-up. – Sterling Beaumon • If it really made sense to “let the club do the work,” you’d just say, “Driver, wedge to the green, one-putt,” and walk to the next tee. – Tom Mulligan • If Jack Nicklaus had to play my tee shots, he couldn’t break 80. He’d be a pharmacist with a string of drugstores in Ohio. – Lee Trevino • If the rest of his foursome are bunched directly behind his ball, or assume the foetal position with their backs to the tee, the golfer is reminded that his drive tends to be erratic. More cruel yet is for his opponent to stand directly in the projected line of flight, as the safest place to be. – Eric Nicol • If there’s a golf course in heaven, I hope it’s like Augusta National. I just don’t want an early tee time. – Gary Player • I’m a big fan of pops of color, but I thought I would take that to the next level and do a color-blocked Rolex. This watch is the perfect accessory whether you’re wearing a tee and jeans or a well-tailored suit. – Brad Goreski • I’m focusing on quality versus quantity – a nicer tee-shirt with organic cotton and buying just one or two instead of five that are cheaper but made with GMO cotton, which is hard on Earth, sewn by slave labor, shipped all the way from China on boats that use lots of oil and can kill whales with ship strikes and sold by (some) companies that could treat their – Kristin Bauer van Straten • I’m much better off the tee. I’m not a great putter. I do not have a good short game. – Molly Sims • I’m not out there just to be dancing around. I expect to win every time I tee up. – Lee Trevino • I’m really going to do my homework. I’m going to be down there on the practice tee finding out if a guy’s wife beat him up the night before, important stuff like that. Stuff that people want to know. – Lee Trevino • It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds. And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like “Poo-tee-weet? – Kurt Vonnegut • It’s really hard to perfect one aspect of your kicking game when you’re spending some of your time kicking with a holder, some of your time kicking off a tee, and some of your time drop-kicking the ball. To be able to concentrate just on my punting responsibilities will do wonders for me. – Pat McAfee • I’ve always tried to play golf with a golf club. I have a hard time driving with my rifle. I mean, 18 is really narrow … I have no problem with the course, except for the tee shot on 18. – Jack Nicklaus • Just hopped off the plane came back from Vancouv Little white tee sum boobs & bamboo – Nicki Minaj • My back swing off the first tee had put him in mond of an eldery woman of dubious morals trying to struggle out of a dress too tight around the shoulders. – Patrick Campbell, 3rd Baron Glenavy • My essentials are skinny jeans, loose-fitting tees, big jumpers, and the leather jacket. Everything is black or blue – I don’t own anything colorful. – Jamie Campbell Bower • My golf score is really bad. I don’t know. I’m definitely not a good golfer. Off the tee box, I can drive it about 275, and I’m in the fairway about 99% of the time. It’s my next shot that needs work. – Jason Aldean • My sister Suga Tee is doing conscious rap. She speaks to the youth. She has an album coming out soon. She got saved but she is still doing her thing. She still spits good game. She’s talented. She sings. I don’t know if a lot of people know this but Suga Tee has a beautiful voice. So ya’ll look out for her album you dig? And look forward to a future Clique album. – E-40 • Never bet with anyone you meet on the first tee who has a deep suntan, a 1-iron in his bag, and squinty eyes. – Dave Marr • No matter what happens – never give up a hole….In tossing in your cards after a bad beginning you also undermine your whole game, because to quit between tee and green is more habit-forming than drinking a highball before breakfast. – Sam Snead • Not a mark on it. (Joe) Yeah. Wanna check the backseat, where Steele is sitting? I’ll bet there’s a big stain there. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Obviously a deer on the fairway has seen you tee off before and knows that the safest place to be when you play is right down the middle. – Jackie Gleason • On the first tee I kept telling myself, “Trust yourself, you can do it.”- Annika Sorenstam • Once I graduated from NYU, I started making custom vintage tees for my friends and it just took off from there. – Charlotte Ronson • One of the most fascinating things about golf is how it reflects the cycle of life. No matter what you shoot – the next day you have to go back to the first tee and begin all over again and make yourself into something. – Peter Jacobsen • Only because I’m not a morning person. (Joe) And you’re not a night person either. Face it, babe. You’ve only got two good minutes a day. The minute before noon and the minute right after. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Only three things them ladies talk about: they kids, they clothes, and they friends. I hear the word Kennedy, I know they ain’t discussing no politic. They talking about what Miss Jackie done wore on the tee-vee. – Kathryn Stockett • Ooo, he’s snotty. I like him already. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Part of wearing a tee is saying, ‘I’m comfortable and casual.’ – Ryan Seacrest • Patience is a virtue. (Tee) Excuse me, pot, could you not pick on the kettle? (Joe) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Reminiscing No one knows … until you live it, to be there, to tee it up each week, to get yourself ready, the players and whatever else…. I think its a very, very difficult, tough and demanding job. And to be able to, particularly, stay at the level of expertise that we have over the years. Along with the fact that we have made football a presence at BYU. I think those are the things that are about as satisfying as anything that has happened. Then, of course, the players…. I think the thing that will be the most difficult is leaving the relationships and the involvement. – LaVell Edwards • Sam Snead did to the tee-shot what Roger Bannister did to the four-minute mile. – Byron Nelson • Tee Vee football: one team wins, one team loses — they tie — who cares? And why? – Edward Abbey • Tee your ball high…air offers less resistance than dirt. – Jack Nicklaus • The devil doesn’t wear prada; I’m clearly in a — white tee. – Tyler, The Creator • The first time I met [Sylvester Stallone], he had golf tees up his nose. So I figured we were going to be OK. – Sandra Bullock • The fourth tee brings out a mixture of excitement and anticipation, for about 220 yards down the fairway you catch a glimpse of Stillwater Cove, and realize you’ll be walking along this spectacular meeting of land and sea for the next two hours. – Doug Ferguson • The Japanese eat, sleep, and breathe golf; the only thing they don’t do is actually play it, because to get on a course, you have to make a reservation roughly 137 years in advance, which means that by the time you actually get to the first tee you are deceased. Of course, in golf this is not really a handicap. – Dave Barry • The man who runs from his office to the golf club, gulps a sandwich, belches and races to the first tee has no business howling in anguish when he puts his first two shots in the woods, then tops a 3-iron shot into the pond. – Tony Lema • The NBAs a Fortune 500 company. Thats how you look at it. And all the other Fortune 500 companies out there in the world, you dont see their CEOs and COOs going to work with white tees and baggy clothes and stuff like that. So I have to take that same approach. – Carmelo Anthony • The only times you touch the ball with your hand are when you tee it up and when you pick it out of the cup. The hell with television towers and cables and burrowing animals and the thousand and one things that are referred to as ‘not part of the golf course’. If you hit the ball off the fairway, you play it from there. – Ken Venturi • The subconscious mind is probably the most important factor in being a good golfer. It keeps distractions on the course from ruining a good round. You should practice, develop your swing, and do most of your thinking on the practice tee so that when you play in competition, you can hit the ball automatically. – Wiffy Cox • There are three things being a celebrity is good for: raising money for charity, dinner reservations and tee times. – Dennis Quaid • There was a time when all I cared about was the next game, the next party, the next tee time. – Brett Favre • There’s not much pressure on the golf Tour. Walking to the first tee is in no way comparable to walking through the jungle in combat – Larry Nelson • To quit between tee and green is more habit-forming than drinking a highball before breakfast. – Sam Snead • Trust me, Joe. You’re not a cowboy. The only cows you ever saw as a kid came under a plastic wrap in the grocery store or in a paper wrapped from McDonald’s. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • We don’t want civilians walking around who know about us. Got it? (Tee) Wow, you’re like a ferocious bunny, aren’t you? (Nathan) Worse. A bunny can be fluffy sometimes. Tee always goes for the throat. Trust me. I’m her partner and she’s shot me three times now. (Joe) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • We have 51 golf courses in Palm Springs. He [President Ford] never decides which course he will play until after the first tee shot. – Bob Hope • We never let our people just go. (Joe) What are you? Wolfram and Hart? (Steele) Oh, no, sweetie, they just take your soul for service. We intend to take even more than that. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Well, I think that Augusta is not the same golf course that I grew up on. Bobby Jones’ philosophy was giving you space off the tee; if you put it in the right side of the fairway, you ended up getting the right angle to the green. – Jack Nicklaus • What a shame to waste those great shots on the practice tee. – Walter Hagen • What’s the longest walk in golf? It’s from the practice tee to the first tee. I don’t care if it’s 10 yards. It’s the longest walk in golf. Winners take their swing with them. Losers don’t. – Moe Norman • When Ballesteros triumphed at the British Open in 1979, for his first major win, he hit so few fairways off the tee that he was often mistaken for a gallery marshall. – Dan Jenkins • When I decided to launch my first knitwear line, it was because I saw a void in the basics category. The editors were always looking for cool, fashion-forward tees and sweaters. So that’s where I started. – Alexander Wang • When I got to the first tee on the first day, to hear the cheers, it was like all the oxygen got sucked out. It was hard to pull the club back. – Patrick Reed • When I have a match to play, I begin to relax as soon as I wake up. Everything I do, I do slow and easy. That goes for stroking the razor, getting dressed, and eating my breakfast. I’m practically in slow motion. By the time I’m ready to tee off, I’m so used to taking my time that it’s impossible to hurry my swing. – Walter Hagen • When I learned that there was such a thing as an atheist, I looked it up – and found out that the definition fitted me to a tee. Finally, at the age of 24, I found out who and what I was. Better late than never. – Madalyn Murray O’Hair • When it come to da: ” What it do?! I don’t fall for da: “Woop- TeE- WoOoo! – Erykah Badu • Why is it when I’m the one shot, I’m a baby, but when it’s you, it’s a matter of life and death and national security? (Joe) Because I’m cuter in a short skirt. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Yeah. Kip gets to guard you and I get to house-sit. Life bites the big tee-tawa. (Syn) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You are so vicious. (Tee) Hence the nickname. (Syd) You know it’s bad when you make me look like Glinda the Good Witch, right? (Tee) Just call me Elphaba. But don’t drop a house on me, ‘kay? (Syd) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You don’t lose your swing between the ninth green and the tenth tee, and you don’t lose your swing from one day to the next. If you think you do, something is going on that you don’t understand. A diary might help explain it to you. – Harvey Penick • You draw on your own childhood every time you tee it up as an actor. – Ron Perlman • You ever go up to the tee and say, ‘Don’t hit it left, don’t hit it right’? That’s your conscious mind. My body knows how to play golf. I’ve trained it to do that. It’s just a matter of keeping my conscious mind out of it. – Tiger Woods • You hear stories about me beating my brains out practicing, but the truth is, I was enjoying myself. I couldn’t wait to get up in the morning so I could hit balls. I’d be at the practice tee at the crack of dawn, hit balls for a few hours, then take a break and get right back to it. And I still thoroughly enjoy it. When I’m hitting the ball where I want, hard and crisply – when anyone is – it’s a joy that very few people experience. – Ben Hogan • You just don’t have the time to worry about what others are doing. You just want to take care of your own business. You are focused on that tee shot on the 10th tee and making it to the finish line. It’s one of the most stressful moments in professional golf, but you have worked so hard to get to that point, that it really is fun. – Mike Weir • You know what I hate about rock? I hate tie-dyed tee shirts. I wouldn’t wear a tie-dyed tee shirt unless it was dyed with the urine of Phil Collins and the blood of Jerry Garcia. – Kurt Cobain • You’re such a crybaby. (Tee) Let me almost shoot off one of your testicles and see how you cope. (Joe) You shouldn’t have moved, Joe. It was your fault. (Tee) Yeah, everything’s my fault. (Joe) Good, then we agree. (Tee) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • Your white tee, well to me, looks like a nightgown; Make your mama proud, take that thing two sizes down. – Andre Benjamin

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[bountyofbeads]

PLEASE READ 📖 AND SHARE this IMPORTANT PERSPECTIVE from Ms. Velez on the history of violence and terrorism against people.

"Donald Trump and his minions are but a symptom of the white supremacist problem we all face today, and that problem is rooted deep in the  foundations of this nation. Become a part of the solution."

Trump is a continuation and culmination of the long trail of white terrorism against black folks

By Denise Oliver Velez | Published Aug 11, 2019 9:00am EDT | Daily Kos | Posted August 11, 2019 11:14 AM ET | VIDEOS

Say her name: Elizabeth Lawrence.

During the last week of June 1933, Elizabeth Lawrence, an African-American mother and school teacher, was killed by a mob in her own home near Birmingham. Ms. Lawrence was walking along a country road about five miles from her home when a group of young white children began taunting and throwing rocks and dirt at her. Being a school teacher and mother herself, she reacted as many might. Ms. Lawrence verbally reprimanded the children without ever touching them. However, in the years post-slavery, all that was needed to justify violence against a black person was the word of a white person, even a child. Like so many other African Americans who were lynched based on these social norms, Ms. Lawrence was now at risk for violent retaliation because she committed a “social transgression.” 

On July 5, Ms. Lawrence was alone in her home when the children’s parents surrounded her house. It is unknown if she exited the house in protest or if the mob stormed inside during the attack, but Ms. Lawrence was shot and her house burned to the ground, likely with her still inside. 

Reading the story of just one of the many thousands of victims of white terrorism here in the U.S. made me stop, and think about what we are faced with today.

I took this story personally. 

I am the daughter and grand-niece of  black school teachers, all of whom would have done exactly what Ms. Laurence did. I grew up in black communities where elders chastised children, who weren’t necessarily their own, as a matter of custom. 

Lawrence’s son Alexander fled to Boston so that he would not face the same fate. No one was ever charged with her murder. The fact that so many white people who have participated in terror paid no price for the slaughter they perpetrated makes me wonder why anyone is “surprised” we have an open white supremacist sitting in the White House. Trump is, of course, aided and abetted by Republicans in Congress and supported by those white Americans who keep them all in office. 

I sit here and think about the children and grandchildren of the white people who are alive today here in my country, whose immediate ancestors attended “spectacle” lynchings.

*Trigger warning if you can’t deal with reading about violence.

Here’s how the Equal Justice Initiative describes them:

More than 4000 African Americans were killed in racial terror lynchings between 1877 and 1950. Many of these extrajudicial murders were celebratory public spectacles, where thousands of white people, including elected officials and prominent citizens, gathered to witness victims being gruesomely tortured and mutilated. White newspapers advertised these carnival-like events; vendors sold food, photographers printed postcards, and victims’ clothing and body parts were given out as souvenirs.

In Newnan, Georgia, in 1899, at least 2000 whites watched as a white mob mutilated and burned alive a black man named Sam Hose, and then sold pieces of his organs and bones. In 1916, a white mob in Waco, Texas, tortured and lynched a mentally disabled 17-year-old black boy named Jesse Washington in front of city hall, stripping, stabbing, beating, and mutilating him before burning him alive in front of 15,000 white spectators. Charred pieces of his body were dragged through town, and his fingers and fingernails were taken as keepsakes.

Public spectacle lynchings were most frequent in the South, but also occurred in Northern and Midwestern states as black Americans migrated during the 20th century. In 1920, 10,000 whites attended the lynchings of three black circus workers in Duluth, Minnesota. In Springfield, Missouri, in 1906, two black men, Horace Dunn and Fred Coker, were hanged and shot to death for a crowd of 5000 whites. White lynch mobs and spectators rarely faced consequences. Although these killings were widely attended and photographed, whites committed public spectacle lynchings with impunity.

Before I die, I hope to make a pilgrimage to Alabama to visit the memorial depicted in the photo at the top of this story.

New York Times reporter Campbell Roberts on described the opening last year in an article titled “A Lynching Memorial Is Opening. The Country Has Never Seen Anything Like It”:

The National Memorial for Peace and Justice, which opens Thursday on a six-acre site overlooking the Alabama State Capitol, is dedicated to the victims of American white supremacy. And it demands a reckoning with one of the nation’s least recognized atrocities: the lynching of thousands of black people in a decades-long campaign of racist terror.

At the center is a grim cloister, a walkway with 800 weathered steel columns, all hanging from a roof. Etched on each column is the name of an American county and the people who were lynched there, most listed by name, many simply as “unknown.” The columns meet you first at eye level, like the headstones that lynching victims were rarely given. But as you walk, the floor steadily descends; by the end, the columns are all dangling above, leaving you in the position of the callous spectators in old photographs of public lynchings.

The magnitude of the killing is harrowing, all the more so when paired with the circumstances of individual lynchings, some described in brief summaries along the walk: Parks Banks, lynched in Mississippi in 1922 for carrying a photograph of a white woman; Caleb Gadly, hanged in Kentucky in 1894 for “walking behind the wife of his white employer”; Mary Turner, who after denouncing her husband’s lynching by a rampaging white mob, was hung upside down, burned and then sliced open so that her unborn child fell to the ground.

White massacres of blacks and other people of color are part and parcel of our history, starting with Native Americans. They are rarely included in what is taught as “history” in schools across the U.S. Head over to the Zinn Education Project for a listing titled “Massacres in U.S. History”:

Here is a list of some of the countless massacres in the history of the United States.

Most of these massacres were designed to suppress voting rights, land ownership, economic advancement, education, freedom of the press, religion, LGBTQ rights, and/or labor rights of African Americans, Latinos, Native Americans, Asians, and immigrants. While often referred to as “race riots,” they were massacres to maintain white supremacy.

One of the best explanations about why it is important for students to learn this history is included in the article (and related lesson) by Linda Christensen, Burning Tulsa: The Legacy of Black Dispossession.

A tweet thread by historian Stephen West shows how politicians fueled hate crimes during the Reconstruction era, with parallels today. Ursula Wolfe-Rocca writes about Red Summer of 1919, Remembering Red Summer — Which Textbooks Seem Eager to Forget.

I was watching(See segment on website) Rachel Maddow on MSNBC on Tuesday, and she brought up the case of one of the last lynchings to take place in the U.S.: the terrorist murder of Michael Donald.

On the night of March 21, 1981, a cross crackled and burned on the lawn of the Mobile County courthouse—the Ku Klux Klan’s grim protest of the outcome of a local murder trial. It was just the beginning of the terror that would take place that night.

The cross burned out, but the Klan’s anger didn’t. Later that night, two men roamed Mobile looking for a black man to kill. They found him: 19-year-old Michael Donald. Before the night was through, Donald had been murdered and his body hung from a tree.

Maddow pursued a line of thought focusing on using legal avenues to potentially destroy the sources of funding for white supremacists.

I agree with the idea, as just one part of what needs to be done to combat white supremacist terror. However, it places the onus of taking action onto the shoulders of the victims’ families.

It does little to erase what I call the “collective amnesia” of white people here in the U.S. for the role they have played—and continue to play—in maintaining white supremacy.

The strongest case made in this respect that I’ve read since the advent of Trump came from Ta-Nehisi Coates. If you missed it when he wrote it in 2017, I strongly suggest you read the entire piece titled “The First White President: The foundation of Donald Trump’s presidency is the negation of Barack Obama’s legacy.”

There is far too much in this tour de force to cite here without violating copyright.

I was struck by his critique of “the left” and its current avoidance of really addressing white supremacy in pursuit of white working-class Trump voters.

The focus on one subsector of Trump voters—the white working class—is puzzling, given the breadth of his white coalition. Indeed, there is a kind of theater at work in which Trump’s presidency is pawned off as a product of the white working class as opposed to a product of an entire whiteness that includes the very authors doing the pawning. The motive is clear: escapism. To accept that the bloody heirloom remains potent even now, some five decades after Martin Luther King Jr. was gunned down on a Memphis balcony—even after a black president; indeed, strengthened by the fact of that black president—is to accept that racism remains, as it has since 1776, at the heart of this country’s political life. The idea of acceptance frustrates the left. The left would much rather have a discussion about class struggles, which might entice the white working masses, instead of about the racist struggles that those same masses have historically been the agents and beneficiaries of. Moreover, to accept that whiteness brought us Donald Trump is to accept whiteness as an existential danger to the country and the world. But if the broad and remarkable white support for Donald Trump can be reduced to the righteous anger of a noble class of smallville firefighters and evangelicals, mocked by Brooklyn hipsters and womanist professors into voting against their interests, then the threat of racism and whiteness, the threat of the heirloom, can be dismissed. Consciences can be eased; no deeper existential reckoning is required.

He concludes:

...the most powerful country in the world has handed over all its affairs—the prosperity of its entire economy; the security of its 300 million citizens; the purity of its water, the viability of its air, the safety of its food; the future of its vast system of education; the soundness of its national highways, airways, and railways; the apocalyptic potential of its nuclear arsenal—to a carnival barker who introduced the phrase grab ’em by the pussy into the national lexicon. It is as if the white tribe united in demonstration to say, “If a black man can be president, then any white man—no matter how fallen—can be president.” And in that perverse way, the democratic dreams of Jefferson and Jackson were fulfilled.

The American tragedy now being wrought is larger than most imagine and will not end with Trump. In recent times, whiteness as an overt political tactic has been restrained by a kind of cordiality that held that its overt invocation would scare off “moderate” whites. This has proved to be only half true at best. Trump’s legacy will be exposing the patina of decency for what it is and revealing just how much a demagogue can get away with. It does not take much to imagine another politician, wiser in the ways of Washington and better schooled in the methodology of governance—and now liberated from the pretense of antiracist civility—doing a much more effective job than Trump.

It has long been an axiom among certain black writers and thinkers that while whiteness endangers the bodies of black people in the immediate sense, the larger threat is to white people themselves, the shared country, and even the whole world. There is an impulse to blanch at this sort of grandiosity. When W. E. B. Du Bois claims that slavery was “singularly disastrous for modern civilization” or James Baldwin claims that whites “have brought humanity to the edge of oblivion: because they think they are white,” the instinct is to cry exaggeration. But there really is no other way to read the presidency of Donald Trump. The first white president in American history is also the most dangerous president—and he is made more dangerous still by the fact that those charged with analyzing him cannot name his essential nature, because they too are implicated in it.

This short video(Website) illustrates the content of the essay, noting that Trump is our first “white President” elected solely because of his whiteness, with no other redeeming values or qualifications.

I concur.

Coates cites James Baldwin, who wrote “On Being ‘White’ and Other Lies” in an essay published in Essence in 1984:

There has never been a labor movement in this country, the proof being the absence of a Black presence in the so-called father-to-son unions. There are, perhaps, some niggers in the window; but Blacks have no power in the labor unions. Just so does the white community, as a means of keeping itself white, elect, as they imagine, their political representatives. No nation in the world, including England, is represented by so stunning a pantheon of the relentlessly mediocre. I will not name names I will leave that to you. But this cowardice, this necessity of justifying a totally false identity and of justifying what must be called a genocidal history, has placed everyone now living into the hands of the most ignorant and powerful people the world has ever seen: And how did they get that way?

By deciding that they were white. By opting for safety instead of life. By persuading themselves that a Black child's life meant nothing compared with a white child's life. By abandoning their children to the things white men could buy. By informing their children that Black women, Black men and Black children had no human integrity that those who call themselves white were bound to respect. And in this debasement and definition of Black people, they debased and defamed themselves.

And have brought humanity to the edge of oblivion: because they think they are white. Because they think they are white, they do not dare confront the ravage and the lie of their history. Because they think they are white, they cannot allow themselves to be tormented by the suspicion that all men are brothers. Because they think they are white, they are looking for, or bombing into existence, stable populations, cheerful natives and cheap labor. Because they think they are white, they believe, as even no child believes, in the dream of safety. Because they think they are white, however vociferous they may be and however multitudinous, they are as speechless as Lot's wife— looking backward, changed into a pillar of salt.

However, White being, absolutely, a moral choice (for there are no white people), the crisis of leadership for those of us whose identity has been forged, or branded, as Black is nothing new. We—who were not Black before we got here either, who were defined as Black by the slave trade—have paid for the crisis of leadership in the white community for a very long time, and have resoundingly, even when we face the worst about ourselves, survived, and triumphed over it. If we had not survived and triumphed, there would not be a Black American alive. And the fact that we are still here—even in suffering, darkness, danger, endlessly defined by those who do not dare define, or even confront, themselves is the key to the crisis in white leadership. The past informs us of various kinds of people—criminals, adventurers and saints, to say nothing, of course, of popes—but it is the Black condition, and only that, which informs us concerning white people.

Baldwin, of course, was not the only author and black political thinker to address the issue of whiteness and white supremacy.

We have just lost Toni Morrison. Her death has revived interest in a piece she wrote after Trump was elected.

It was titled “Making America White Again,” and the subhed read “The choices made by white men, who are prepared to abandon their humanity out of fear of black men and women, suggest the true horror of lost status.”

On Election Day, how eagerly so many white voters—both the poorly educated and the well educated—embraced the shame and fear sowed by Donald Trump. The candidate whose company has been sued by the Justice Department for not renting apartments to black people. The candidate who questioned whether Barack Obama was born in the United States, and who seemed to condone the beating of a Black Lives Matter protester at a campaign rally. The candidate who kept black workers off the floors of his casinos. The candidate who is beloved by David Duke and endorsed by the Ku Klux Klan.

William Faulkner understood this better than almost any other American writer. In “Absalom, Absalom,” incest is less of a taboo for an upper-class Southern family than acknowledging the one drop of black blood that would clearly soil the family line. Rather than lose its “whiteness” (once again), the family chooses murder.

Toni Morrison, who chronicled the African American experience in fiction over five decades, has died aged 88. The novelist was the first African American woman to win the Nobel Prize for Literature and is widely regarded as a champion for repressed minorities. Speaking on racism, Morrison said in an interview: "If you can only be tall because someone else is on their knees then you have a serious problem. And my feeling is white people have a very, very serious problem"

Keith Boykin ✔@keithboykin

"If you can only be tall because somebody is on their knees, then you have a serious problem. And my feeling is white people have a very, very serious problem, and they should start thinking about what they can do about it.”

Rest In Power Toni Morrison

9:51 AM - Aug 6, 2019

As I have done in the past and will continue to do in the present and into the future, I call upon those of you who are defined or define yourselves as “white” to stand up and fight this plague inflicting our nation. Black folks, as only approximately 13% of the population, cannot fix it alone.

Donald Trump and his minions are but a symptom of the white supremacist problem we all face today, and that problem is rooted deep in the foundations of this nation.

Become a part of the solution.

[zeemonkey1]

Pigs

In which George buildeth a dadgum thumb

Allie Whoops is the Scrappy-Doo of Curious George. When I am forced to watch the Curious George movies, I hope the big reveal at the end shows a furious little Allie Whoops drunk-driving a Dalek, right before somebody pinches her smarmy little head off. Honestly, I thought I hated Bill, but Bill never made me want to hammer nails into my ears. Her voice is like listening to Pinkie Pie laugh about how much fun it is to dig a hole in a chalkboard with a fork. Together, Bill and Allie rule the land of non-sequitur stupidity with such hideous aplomb that Dryden should be disinterred and forced to write a poem about them.

I seriously hate that little red-haired trick. If any of my girls turned out to be anything like that obnoxious monster I would personally apologize to the UN. Sometimes I think Curious George should do a crossover episode with Game of Thrones and tell Melisandre that Allie is the long-lost second daughter of Stannis the Mannis.

Or maybe it is her grandparents’ fault. I have never seen her parents, but Mr. and Mrs. Renkins let Allie run all over creation, completely unsupervised, in the company of a monkey. I do not believe social workers exist in the Curious George universe.

So today’s episode shows how much fun it is to be gaslighted by everyone and play in the mud. Either the writer was high or he hates me personally. Imagine, if you will, trying to explain the plot of the Terminator movies to an Andaman tribesman, because the plot of this episode made exactly the same amount of sense to me. Indeed, if you had not the power of Hulu and PBS, you might suspect that none of this really happened and I was just blabbing about a dream I think I had.

So it’s raining, and George and Allie are sitting on the front steps of a country house, bored. Bill shows up and throws a newspaper on the roof. He explains his aim is off because he strained his thumb, an injury that was caused,

sweet Jesus I wish I were lying

by a “thumb-wrestling” accident. Before I have a chance to ponder what powerful hands could sprain a thumb in such an inane way, George clambers up to get the paper and delivers another plot point--somebody several towns over built a giant sculpture of his dog.  Boy that sounds fun, says the little red-headed hellion, we should build a giant sculpture, and Bill can “stupervise.”

Oh gee, y’all, she just said “stupervise” instead of “supervise!” Wow. So cute and endearing. Allie should win ten grand on America’s Funniest Home Videos and not be slapped at all.

I just want to eat her up.

But what to build? Oh, the possibilities. Could be another dog, a monkey, Allie herself, Mr. Quint’s dingaling, a sheep, several cows, a Calvin and Hobbes snowman massacre, an igloo, a dessert-dispensing vending machine, a Wall of Shame, a lifesize copy of that sculpture Tom Green made of his parents doing it, the frontline of the 1976 Philadelphia Flyers, the Burning Man, the Wicker Man, Ugly Lucille Ball Statue, Pretty Lucille Ball Statue, some owls, that weird dollar-bill floating eye thingy, Stonehenge, Charles Barkley, or the Tower of fucking Babel.

Lots of options. And what do they pick? Oh, but of course—giant sculpture of Bill’s left thumb. The uninjured one. Yay!

I now have many, many questions, all of which correlate with the great mystery of Curious George, which is “why the hippity-dippity fuck do any of these people do anything?”

And, and…and THEN, they all go to Bill’s house to look at pictures of his thumb. Bunch of vacuous shit is what it is; Bill is all “here’s my thumb telling my mom I liked her pisghetti” and “here’s my thumb while I was eating watermelon” and so George breaks out the Play-doh to build a replica thumb and Bill absolutely crushes his spirit.

“You call that a ginormous sculpture? That’s all you got?” Bill says, and I imagine burying him in the yard like that guy in The Serpent and the Rainbow. But then I make a mistake; I start to believe that building a giant thumb is stupid, and this episode cannot get any stupider.

Hope is poison. Take care not to get addicted to it.

Maybe Allie was just jealous of the fact that I had spent about ten seconds thinking about killing Bill instead of her, so she pipes up and says they should make the sculpture out of peanut butter. They have plenty of peanut butter—Allie leads them to a shed that is stacked to the ceiling with fifty-pound containers of peanut butter. She laughs and says her grandparents make their own.

Wat. Seriously…I’m watting as hard as I can. I am from an area of this country that literally supplies the entire world with peanut butter, and never in my life have I seen a personal shed filled with the stuff. TONS of peanut butter, on a farm that grows no peanuts, up in Yankeeland. Why do they need that much peanut butter? To whom would they sell it? Who buys peanut butter by the five-gallon bucketful? It is creepy.

Even creepier is when they pop open a drum and dig their grubby little hands into it. They decide--shocker of shockers--that peanut butter is too sticky, so they let the pigs lick it off their hands. Nobody loses a hand.

I know pigs too, y’all. I knew a guy when I was a kid that had a heart attack and fell into his pig-pen and they ate everything but his watch. Pigs will step on you until you die and then eat you. My neighbor kept pigs--the best advice he ever gave me as a youngster was “Git away from them gotdam pigs!” The pigs in Curious George are the size of four-wheelers. This is stupid.

They stay in the pig-pen anyway and try to make a giant thumb out of shaving cream because life is like a box of Dadaist chocolates--you never know what urinal aluminum nutsack kaboom.

It finally occurs to these Mensa candidates that mud might be the best medium for their thumb sculpture. This is discovered after Allie Whoops has an extended conversation with a giant pig about whether or not he wants her to make him a mud pie. I know it is supposed to be cute, in the same way I know Full House was supposed to be funny, but in both cases I either want to kill the writers or myself but would probably get the order wrong.

Because it’s not mud they’re playing in. They are in a pig-pen. It is pig shit. Tons of it. Did I say I know pigs? Because I do. They are indescribably filthy and they shit everywhere. Pigs make the entire state of North Carolina smell like that bathroom at the Carabelle public beach.

From this point on I can’t do anything but feel nauseous. They roll in it; they fill buckets with it. They use it to cover a tomato cage wrapped in chicken wire. Allie Whoops says “whoops” like fifty times, and Bill washes them off with a garden hose. Not only does nobody complain about the smell, but when Mr. and Mrs. Rankin discover what they have been doing with the pigshit, they are so very proud, whereas my mother would have rightfully beaten me bloody for doing such a stupid thing.

Neither pinworms nor tetanus exist in the Curious George universe. When a busload of tourists pulls up to take pictures of the thumb, they all sit in the pig-pen and eat the peanut butter sandwiches Allie Whoops prepares for them.

That’s how I know.