I swear to god if my dealer doesn’t have weed tonight I’m gonna lose my shit

you think chanyeol would be into his partner acting rlly cutesie and baby talking while saying dirty things? 👶🏼 for some reason i am FEELING this rn 🍼

I think Chanyeol is the kind of guy to like almost* anything his partner/s would like, and we all know how competitive he is…so….

…you might want to look under the cut. 

You’d be trying to get his attention

And lets be honest, this is Chanyeol, and sometimes that is difficult.

However

You’ve been here a hot second so you know how to work with him 

…know what he likes.

…know what makes him weak.

So you’d call his name in your sweetest voice

(so softly its almost like you’re a wounded animal)

“Yeol….” 

His ears instantly twitching, shoulders up as he turns to the sound. The shy call coming from the bedroom. 

He’s busy, but he’s never too busy for you. He knows you don’t bother him unnecessarily, and this cute crying is not the usual ‘I need you to move something that’s too high for me to reach’ kind. 

it’s the other kind. 

“…Yeollllll” 

So, he’d move towards the room instantly, but stop just before the last corner, hiding himself, waiting. 

“Yeollie…I neeeeed you…” you’d call 

Voice soft 

Just the register that makes his stomach flip 

Makes his skin buzz with electricity 

He’d not be able to resist 

His body rippling with the repressed emotion as he gives in (losing the game) and walks around the corner 

Coming into the bedroom 

Seeing you sitting there 

On the bed 

Relaxed on your knees, 

His biggest jacket 

You know the one

Draped loose off of your shoulders 

Dressed in candy pink lingerie 

…and nothing else.

Making you look like some sweet treat wrapped up just for him 

He’d probably swear under his breath 

Fall to his knees dramatically 

Look up at you, his hands clutching his chest over his heart 

“Why’re you doing this to me???” 

You’d pout 

Then smirk,

“Baby wants attention.” 

He’d laugh, sitting back, still feasting his eyes

Heck he’d love it so much he’d want to snap a photo 

Its his homescreen for two weeks 

Until… you send him an upskirt whilst he’s away in Japan. 

THAT one stays for 6 months 

At least 

But I digress dont ask me about texting yeol oh lord

He’d finish snapping some pics then he’d sit down next to you

“What does my baby need?” he’d ask 

You wouldn’t move, just look at him with the pout again, 

“Wants filling.” 

He’d smile, his voice soft and sympathetic

“Wants filling?” His fingers gently tracing your cheek, “Ohhhh, poor Baby!” 

He’d kneel on the bed, dwarfing you, nearly straddling you, making you crane your neck up

Goddamn it he knows you love it when you’re lost in him

Goddamn he’s too big sometimes

sometimes

He’d smile that smug smug smug smile

He knows he has you when he does this

“What does my baby girl want?” he’d ask, 

Cradling your head in his hands - 

his long fingers probing you 

impressing on you the fact you already know

That fuck me he’s got big hands

That he can control you

That he owns you

You gulp, your neck wonderfully painful as he flexes his fingers, his hands splayed to completely capture your head. 

“Baby’s been bad,” you’d stutter

god whys it so hard to breathe?

pleasepleaseplease

“Baby needs punishing.” 

His eyebrows would raise

“Ooh no…” 

Mockery.

Then-

“I want you to tell me everything you want me to do to you” he says, and his voice is deadly, like the sharp edge of a knife 

his face suddenly like a mask

his eyes like fire

You’d stutter, feeling him overpower you, like he’s burning you from the inside, feeling him fold his personality into a deeper, darker sphere,

Your only option is complete compliance. 

“B-baby wants your cock.”

Stumbling over words

“Baby wants your fingers.”

Feeling the swoon of the rush of blood 

“Baby wants you to - to - to…” 

his fingers creeping to your lips, 

pushing down, dragging your mouth open, 

hard

You’re stuck

Shivering

Burning 

Drool slipping from your open mouth onto his fingers, 

Ooh its so hard oh god I don’t think I can take it anymore

“Baby wants to hurt.” 

Let the Games Begin

Fandom: Marvel (CEO AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Reader

As requested by anonymous: May I please request meeting chubby!Bucky at a friends wedding? It could be smutty or not, whichever feels right for you💕 +  I feel like Chubby!bucky needs more deep loving 😏 maybe not included into the SACS universe but god I neeeeed the smut

Warning: smutty smut 

You couldn’t believe your old college roommate, Peggy, was married now! As you watched her father walk her down the aisle and say her “I do’s” with her new husband, Steve, you couldn’t help but think about how far you’ve both come. 

You and Peggy became roommates in your second year in college. She was came to study business from England. With her pristine appearance and English lilt, you expected her to be snobby, but she was quite the opposite. 

Peggy Carter was kind and fiery and an overall badass. She didn’t take shit from anyone and you admired that about her. You two became fast friends and had breezed through your college years together. Unfortunately, you lost touch after she moved back to England to support her parents after her older brother died. Years later, you receive a wedding invitation from her and here you are!

“Y/N!” you heard your name called in that familiar English accent.

“Pegs!” you squealed as you ran up to the new bride in the beautiful garden where the reception was held, “Congratulations!!”

She hugged you tight, “I’m happy you made it! It’s been so long and I’ve been so busy-”

You shook your head, “Peggy, no, I get it. I missed you like crazy, but I get it. You had a lot on your plate. But look at you now! You’re married!”

Peggy glanced over her shoulder, “Come on, then. Come meet, Steve!” she took your hand and led you over to the groom whom was chatting with the young flower girls, “Steve?”

The handsome blonde straightened up and smiled, “Yeah?”

Peggy pulled you closer, “This is my old uni roommate, Y/N!”

Steve stuck out his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Thanks for being here on our special day.”

You shook his hand happily, “Of course! Peggy is an old friend! I can’t believe you guys are married!”

He chuckled, “I know. It’s-”

A hand slapped onto Steve’s shoulder, “Hey, man, my mom’s tellin’ me to get you guys to sit down. Things are gonna start.”

Steve nodded, “Alright. Oh! Buck, this is Peggy’s college friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is my best friend-” he gestured to the man that interrupted him. 

Y/E/C eyes met striking blue ones and you felt yourself frozen in place, “Bucky Barnes, CEO of Winter’s Prosthesis.”

Bucky smirked, “That’s me. Hi, Y/N. Can I say what a pleasure it is to meet Peggy’s beautiful friend?”

Peggy and Steve roll their eyes in unison, “Bucky.”

He chuckles and takes a step back, “Alright. Alright. Get to your table or ma’s gonna have my head! See ya around, Y/N.” he gave you a wink and waltzed back an older woman who you assumed was his mother. 

“Well, wedding duty calls. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. I’ll see ya!” he waved and slipped his hand into Peggy’s. 

With her other, she pulled you into a hug and then whispered in her ear, “Bucky’s single, by the way,” she released you and gave you a knowing look before following Steve to the head table so the reception could officially begin.

______________________

You had to admit, you kept eyeing Bucky the entire night. From afar, you observed him. His brown locks gelled back, his blue eyes twinkling like the stars in the sky, his smile brightening every time he spoke with someone he was familiar with. He was a handsome guy. He wasn’t fit like Steve. He had more of a chub to him, but that didn’t take away his attractiveness at all. 

As if feeling your gaze on him, Bucky looked up, catching your eye. The previous times throughout the night, you would’ve looked away, but not this time. You smirked when you saw him licking his lips, his eyes raking over your body and then back up to your eyes again. He nodded to the hedge maze that was a short distance away, but still visible to the eye. 

You nodded in agreement, finishing up the last of your champagne and grabbing your shawl, wrapping it around you before following Bucky to the maze closely. 

He looked over his shoulder, making sure you were still behind him. There was a mischievous look in his eyes and you felt excitement and, probably, arousal fill your body. 

He waited for you at the entrance, “Up for a little game, Y/N?”

You shrugged, a smile hinting at your lips, “Depends on the game.”

“Both of us go into the maze. If I find you, I get to do whatever I want with you. If you find me, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

You hummed in content, “What if we want the same things?”

“Then I guess it’ll be a win-win situation, huh, sweetheart?” he slowly backs into the maze, “Gimme a three minute head start. Then let the hunt begin.” he turned a corner and was out of sight. You could hear his footsteps against the loose rock pavement. You looked at your phone, anxiously waiting for time to go faster. 

Once Bucky’s three minutes were up, you rushed into maze, taking the that you’d seen Bucky take and then you stopped to listen. You could hear him whistling, as if taunting you. 

“Who’s gonna find who first, Y/N?” he sounds like he’s not too far away. You scramble taking turns left and right and going straight and going back and forth. Your blood was pumping. This was so thrilling and exhausting and frustrating and arousing. 

“You know, I knew I wanted you from the moment I met you,” you hear him again, “I knew I wanted to worship your body. Will you let me do that, sweetheart?” you can hear the smirk in his voice, “I’ll make you feel so good.”

“And what if I find you, huh?” you question him back.

“I told you, baby girl, I’d let you do whatever you want to me.” you hear the rustle of rocks against the pavement. He’s close.

You press yourself up against the brush maze wall, hand covering your mouth to muffle your breathing. 

You hear him getting closer and closer. You clench your fist tight, you’re just itching to jump him. As soon as you see even a sliver of him, you jump out and push him up against the maze, “Caught you!” you exclaim with a proud smile.

Bucky chuckled, “So you have,” his hands going to your waist and pulling you closer, “And what’re you going to do with me now.”

“I want you to eat me out,” you breath out confidently.

“Gladly,” he says with a wide smile as he shrugs off his suit jacket and begins to roll up his sleeves. You bite your lip as he slides onto his knees, hiking up your dress. Bucky’s breath hitches when he finds you bare, “No panties?”

You shrugged, “I didn’t want a panty line to show through my dress.”

He groaned, “I love when I have easy access,” he leans in taking in your scent, “Goddamn, baby, you smell so good.” he then takes your leg and hooks it over his shoulder to get better access to you. His fingers graze you and you jolt at the feeling, “It’s okay, Y/N. I said I’d make you feel good. And I always keep my word.” he leans in and his tongue delves into you immediately.

You throw your head back in pleasure, feeling the warmth and wetness of his tongue meeting the warmth and wetness of your pussy in addition to the scrape of his beard against your soft skin...It all feels amazing. Your fingers glide through his gelled locks and then grips them tight, causing him to moan into your pussy. 

“Bucky,” you moan his name and he swears that’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“’M right here, baby. You want more? Want me to use my fingers?” he kisses your clit, making you whimper again. Fuck, he’s so hard right now. He wants to free his cock now, but only if or when you allow him to fuck you. 

“Want your cock. Now!” you plead. 

Well, that didn’t take long, he thinks joyfully to himself as he stands up, quickly undoing his slacks. He wants to feel your heat around him, he wants to feel you cum on his cock. 

It’s now your turn to be pushed up against the hedge of the maze. Bucky picks up your leg and hooks it around the crook of his arm, his hard cock in the other hand. 

“You want this, Y/N? You really want this?”

You nod, “Please, just fuck me. So tired of all the teasing!”

He chuckled, “Alright then.” he thrusts into you with ease, through gritted teeth he curses. The heated stares, the teasing winks, the arousing hunt for each other, it all built up to this, “You feel perfect, Y/N,” he mumbles against your painted lips. 

His thrusts are hard and it pushes you further into the hedge, causing leaves and branches to poke and scrape at your back. But you didn’t care. All that mattered right now was Bucky’s cock in you. 

His lips meet yours in a very heated kiss, your lipstick now smudging. Damn, your lips taste just as good as your pussy. 

With every thrust, with every passionate and heat-filled kiss, you could feel yourself heating up, growing more and more aroused. 

Bucky pulls away, bending back a bit so he could watch his cock disappear into your pussy over his rounded stomach. This was a sight to behold and one that he didn’t want to forget. 

You heard giggling and then the shuffle of rocks some short distance away from you two.

“Fuck!” Bucky exclaimed in a hushed tone, “Looks like we don’t have much time, sweetheart.” without any warning, his thrusts are faster, harder, more desperate. He’s desperate for his release, desperate to feel your walls flutter around him as you cum, “C’mon, baby, don’t wanna get caught now, do we?”

You whimpered out a “Shit, Bucky!” eyes fluttering closed as Bucky fucks you as hard and silent as he could. You could feel the pressure building up inside you and you’re sure that Bucky knows too because his hand goes to your clit, rubbing fast circles around the hardened nub.

“C’mon, Y/N. C’mon, beautiful. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock. Will you do that for me, please, honey?”

You grip his shoulders hard, eyes tightly shut, “Buck-”

“Open your eyes for me. Wanna look into your eyes as you cum.” you gasp as your eyes shoot open, your jaw slackening as that wave of pleasure washes over you.

“Fuck yes. Shit, Y/N. Squeezin’ me so tight. So fucking good. Aw fuck!” you feel Bucky’s cum fill you, he’s still pounding you relentless, ensuring that every drop is inside you. 

When his hips still, that’s when he pulls out, quickly tucking himself in and pulling his pants up. His helps pull your dress down and wipes away the lipstick from his lips and then yours. 

That’s when Steve and Peggy find you two.

“There you guys are!” Peggy says with a smile, she looks even more beautiful in the moonlight. Her eyes go from you to Bucky to you again, a knowing smile appears on her face, “Getting to know each other?”

Bucky smirks, “Just a bit. Did you need us for something?”

Steve shook his head, “Was just wonderin’ where you guys were. Haven’t seen you for hours. How long have you guys been in here?”

You shrugged, “Not long. Know how to get outta here, by chance?”

Steve nodded, “Yeah. Just follow the right walls. They’ll lead you to the exit.”

“Great,” Bucky offered his hand to you, “Shall we?” 

You slid your hand into his and followed him further into the maze towards the exit. His cum leaking down your legs.

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 2x02 We Are Both

Guys you don’t understand how tempted I am to just go and watch season one again. Must. Resist. Temptation.  

But anyhow, come on Becky, you like this season too (see what I did there!).  

August is alive! Yay!

Okay and now Regina’s lying about knowing where the hat came from. I just don’t understand why she’s keeping all these secrets to herself.

“If you have to use magic to keep your son, you don’t really have him.” Probably best not to use magic on your kids folks. Unless it’s to like conjure a giant cupcake out of thin air. That would be a great thing.

Holy sugar! And Cora didn’t listen to me. Why are you like this Cora? You can’t keep her there like this.

“Power is freedom.” Whaaaaaaat?

“Are the nuns still nuns, or can they, you know, date?” Whale asking all the important questions.

Woah, that is a lot to put on just David’s shoulders.

I like that in once the magic users don’t always use incantations to cast spells. In fact they rarely do, if at all, if I’m remembering correctly. I don’t mind either way but it’s just pretty cool.

Archie’s such a sweetheart Hufflepuff. He tries to help anyone no matter what they’ve done.

Jesus Christ Regina! Having visions of strangling children is a bad sign, even in the Enchanted forest. Thank goodness it wasn’t real.

Why are you keeping the secret of the EF’s existence, Regina??! I neeeeed to know!!

Regina: “I don’t care if they turn me green.” When you see the future there is irony everywhere.

Gold telling Regina that he can now see the resemblance between her and Cora. You’re going down another dark path, Regina. Listen to me, girl!

If Regina just learnt to teleport, that’s all she really needed to know. She could just get as far away from Cora as possible, but then, Cora might be able to track her down.

When Rumple says, “I don’t see it,” when talking about Regina looking like her mother, he seems to almost say it in preparation for a time in the future where he can change his mind when it’ll hurt her most, or he’s just saying she hasn’t gone down the same dark path as Cora yet.  

David had memories of reading Alice and Wonderland. It would be so funny once he learnt that Alice Jones was actually Alice from Wonderland (and other places). He could have a “wtf” Emma moment.

Oopsie, got lost in the blue of David’s eyes for a moment. I gotta rewind xD. Concentrate, Becky, concentrate.

Oh man, Gold’s look of fear as he learns that he can’t cross the town line. And woah!! Careful with that glass, dude!

Young Regina looks so sad. Poor kid.

Do apples really go black like that when rotten?

That scene where Regina’s eyes turn purple is so cool! I want magic!

I love that there’s magic in Storybrooke! It’s such a whimsical little town. I wanna live there!

Look at that hat go!

Oh snap! How long has Jefferson been in there?

Regina be throwing people like bowling balls.

So cool how she catches the arrow, sets it on fire and throws it. I wonder how the magic allows her to catch the arrow. Does she have enhanced reflexes, super speed, the ability to slow down time or something else? These are the questions.

David: “Can you get it to work?” Jefferson: “If you only knew.” Exactly. He would kick yo ass, if he knew what you put MM and Emma through, Jefferson.

Jefferson: “Then all we’ll do is both sit. Stuck. Two lives in our heads, cursed worse than ever. Two lives, forever at odds. Double the pain, double the suffering.” That’s deep, bruh.

Regina says “Now I don’t want you to think that things are just going to go back how they use to be,” with such giddiness in her voice, so unlike how we’ve seen her interact with Henry before. I wonder what she was planning on changing.

This scene upsets me. It’s so sad to see Regina wrap the branches around Henry like her mother did to her.

Oh snap, I forgot Henry actually told Regina how he felt about her making it so no one believed him.

Giant cupcake!! I want it!!

Holy cow, Regina says, “You can make them not be scared” in the most terrifying way.

Regina realising she’s turning into her mother is so sad. At least she recognises it and tries to change.

Cora: “I wonder sometimes if the people really love you.” And then Cora apologises and calls Regina “honey.” So freaking manipulative. And I love her, as a character, for it. Actually, that’s a difference between Cora and Regina, I don’t consider Regina all that manipulative at all compared to her mother.

O-oh! Cora saw that one coming Regina. It’s so interesting that Regina managed to overpower her. It seems like releasing emotional pain can make a magic user more powerful.

Tehe, Rumple in the mirror doing a pushing motion xD.

I felt Regina’s pain there.

“We are both.”

If only young Regina had left the kingdom. She could have never gone down the darker path. She would have been so different.

“Because I loved it.” Ooh that moment! The things that must be going through Regina’s head. Is she destined to become like her mother? Is she evil for wanting to use dark magic again?

“And I won’t become like her.”

Oh dear. The beginning of Regina’s road to becoming the Evil Queen. I would have said no to learning magic with Rumple. He would’ve just seemed too shady for me. But then and again, it would be cool to learn magic.

I’ve seen an analysis or too of the moment Regina jumps when David kicks the door. It’s true, I think it’s telling about her fear of Cora throughout her life.

I’m glad Regina’s making a very mature decision about where Henry should live at this moment in her life while she works through things.

Are the dwarves adopted brothers or do they have the same parents, if they have parents at all?

Oh dear, she didn’t burn the book.

Aww, look at David and his grandson. They’re so similar. Even when Henry becomes an adult he reminds me so much of Charming.

They didn’t have to drag Emma & MM by ropes like that, that must hurt. They thought the EF no longer existed when they sent the wraith there.

Owww!! Mulan! Don’t hurt my girl MM like that!!  

Emma’s pure terror at seeing MM hurt like that. She fears for her as a best friend as well as a mother. God bless.

Girrrrl, Cora ain’t no goddamn friend!

your sharp and glorious thorn

rating: M (for game-typical violence)

ships: arthur morgan/original female character

chapter: 2/?

previous chapters: chapter one [tumblr] [ao3]

words: 6k

tags: slow burn, treasure hunting

warnings: game-typical violence

chapter summary: Arthur crosses paths with Iris sooner than he’d like.

also on ao3!

Arthur doesn’t like riding into Strawberry. It’s not that he’s nervous someone will recognize him from the time he broke Micah out of jail, it has more to do with the fact that he and Micah just about killed half the town.

No one is going to recognize him. No one is alive to recognize him. And it’s that that stirs guilt in his belly. He’s never been one to enjoy killing needlessly. Let alone half a town of innocent people.

Arthur lights a cigarette, pressing it between his lips to stop himself from gritting his teeth. No, Micah Bell has already ruined enough things for the gang, Arthur’s not going to let the mere thought of the man ruin his day now too.

STRAWBERRY. Arthur lets his eyes linger on the overhead sign as he takes a drag of his cigarette, passing through his exhaled smoke, looking as if a fog had parted for the tourist town to grace his vision.

He can probably stay the night here, before setting out again tomorrow. Watson’s Cabin, right up north in Big Valley. A tip worth looking into, especially since he was only a day’s ride out of Strawberry when he heard about it.

Back in Strawberry, barely two days since he beat that godawful old man and left his granddaughter with a bunch of dead bodies by the dam. He sighs. This robbery better be worth it, he’s spent far too much time away from camp, he’s gotta have something good to show for it when he gets back to Horseshoe Overlook.

“You… What the hell are you doing back here!”

Arthur tenses up. Hopefully they weren’t talking to him.

“Hey, hey, I’m talkin’ to you!”

Arthur sighs and stops his horse, Charon, right outside the hotel. The mayor’s reciting the same speech he hears every time he rides into town, it’s nothing but background noise now, just about as significant as the cigarette butt Arthur tosses into the dirt.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya,” Arthur grumbles and slides off his horse. He turns around, briefly looking for the source of the voice before he wrinkles his nose at the sight of the man.

It’s Jameson Cole, looking about as drunk as Uncle on his birthday. Whatever this man has to say to Arthur, it isn’t going to be any good. At least this isn’t going to be about that awful business with Micah.

“Mr. Cole,” Arthur greets coolly as the old man staggers towards him, bottle in hand. Jesus, the man hasn’t even crossed the road and Arthur can smell him from here. “I think it’s best you and I don’t talk.”

“You—y-you good fer nothin’ thief,” Cole hiccups when he’s close enough to Arthur, much to the dismay of Arthur’s sense of smell. “You kidnapper!”

“Excuse me?” Arthur says slowly, quietly, not keen on the attention the man’s words are drawing to the pair of them. The new Sheriff is an earshot away, dammit, Arthur doesn’t need those kinds of eyes on him right now. “I stole nothin’ you didn’t owe. If my memory serves right, it weren’t even you that paid. It was—”

“Iris! Oh, you bastard,” Cole wails, pausing to take another swig from his bottle. He jabs Arthur in the chest with his index finger. “You! You took ‘er! Stole her away and now I gotta beg on the street for a drink! Kidnapper!”

Folk are staring at them now. Women swiftly walking away from the scene, men eyeing Arthur suspiciously with their hands resting heavily on their guns.

Arthur’s spilled enough blood in Strawberry. He doesn’t want another fight on his hands, not here. He raises his hands in surrender, leaning back from old Jameson Cole and his whiskey stench. “You’re drunk, old man. Get out of here and stop makin’ a scene.”

Jameson Cole blinks blearily at Arthur, breaths coming out like wheezes. “You give her back. You give back Iris, oh, stupid little Iris, I’m afraid the house neeeeeds a cleaning! She ain’t been back since ya ran off with her!”

“I don’t have her, you old fool,” Arthur sneers, walking away from the man. “Maybe your granddaughter saw sense and ran far away from ya!”

Arthur shouldn’t care, the Coles are people he should be done with. If the world were in any way kind to him, he’d have never seen them again. But the knowledge that Miss Iris Cole didn’t return home after that whole mess with the treasure hunters doesn’t sit well with him.

Should’ve seen to it that she got home safe, he berates himself, you goddamn idiot, Morgan. What kind of man does that? Leave a woman out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a bunch of dead bodies? This is why he loathes debt collection. Arthur’s already a bad man, he knows that, but collecting debts has always brought out a shade of himself he does not like any more than he likes his usual self.

Arthur sighs and mounts Charon again, muttering under his breath. “Don’t owe these people a goddamn thing. Ah, you fool, Morgan.”

He starts to ride out of Strawberry—so much for a night in the hotel—and takes the road leading in the direction of Owanjila.

“Hey, you!” Someone calls to him at the end of the main road—a young woman lugging a bucket full of fresh water. “Mister, I heard you talking to that awful old man.”

Arthur slows his horse, running a tired hand down his face. “Listen, Miss, I already told the man I don’t have his granddaughter—”

“But you’re heading out to look for her, right?” The woman presses, a bit of water sloshing out of the bucket. “That’s why you’re leaving town?”

“Yeah,” Arthur grunts, half shrugging. “I guess.”

“I work with Iris at the hotel,” the woman says, frowning softly, concerned. “She came to the hotel last night. Late last night, a strange look in her eyes. She told me Mr. Davis is dead and that she’s leaving.”

“Leaving? Where?”

“She didn’t say exactly,” the woman’s frown deepens. “I don’t think she quite knew where she was goin’ either. Just said. North. North of Big Valley. If you’re looking for her, you might want to start there.”

“Big Valley,” Arthur nods. The cabin he plans to rob is around there. Good. This won’t be a complete waste of his time. “Thank you, Miss.”

“Please find her, sir. She didn’t… she looked—she didn’t look quite right.”

Guilt stirs in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll get moving, then. Have a good afternoon, Miss.”

-

Iris ignores her rumbling stomach and walks along the road, treasure map clutched in one hand and Sammy's reigns in the other.

Her feet hurt. These old boots certainly weren’t made for walking, but she keeps on.

She knows where the treasure is. Or, at least, she'll know it when she sees it. There's no special instinct to treasure hunting, after all. Considering what Mr. Morgan did yesterday (or was it the day before?), it's as easy as sticking your arm into a hollow rock.

The treasure is by water, a shallow bed of water, according to the illustration on the map. And it's in Big Valley. That, she knows. Has to be. It's a gut feeling. Perhaps there is a special instinct.

Sammy lets out a whinny of protest, nodding his head and almost yanking the reigns out of Iris’s hand.

“I know,” Iris says. “I know, I know. But we're almost there, Sammy. We have to be. We ain’t riding back to Strawberry any time soon.”

Sammy huffs, sounding almost disapproving, but begins to follow again when Iris tugs on the reigns.

There’s that thundering sound again, her stomach groaning for food. Iris doesn’t have any food. She knows nothing of plant life, either. She only knows that eating the wrong plant can be a deadly thing. Better to be hungry for a day than to die by a plant.

The thundering sound continues, though her stomach has stopped its protests. The sound is distant, getting closer by the second. It's a rider, she realizes, the familiar galloping sound of a horse.

Iris stops and turns in the direction of the sound. Whoever it is, they’re heading straight towards her.

Oh. It’s the outlaw.

Iris clutches the map tight in her hand and stands close to Sammy, right next to the saddlebags. If he’s changed his mind and come back to rob her, she’s got one of the dead treasure hunter’s cattleman revolvers.

The memory of Mr. Morgan gunning down the treasure hunters is fresh on her mind again. He moves fast, Iris probably wouldn’t even be able to pull out her gun before he robs her. She’d at least like to try to get a few shots in, though.

He clicks his tongue and stops his horse when he’s close enough. His guns, notably, are in their respective holsters, not at all drawn and pointed at Iris when he dismounts his horse.

“Miss Cole,” he greets, hands resting on his gun belt. He’s exactly the same as when she first met him, lurking outside her homestead like a bad omen. Only this time, there’s no growl to his voice. There’s a roughness that’s still there, ever-present to the man’s voice, but this time around his greeting doesn’t sound like danger.

“Mr. Morgan,” she says back, voice feeble not with fear but with a tiredness. “You’ve… you’ve returned to rob me.”

Mr. Morgan tilts his head back, scrutinizing her from under the brim of his hat.

Iris is sure she looks as though some sort of fiendish wind has passed through. She hasn’t spared a moment to maintain a civilized appearance—her braid is all out of sorts from the wind and her fidgeting with it, her skirts are muddy from all the walking, her shoes are on the verge of falling to pieces, and she’s quite sure that her sore eyes are bloodshot, with darkened circles of exhaustion to complete the look.

Oh, she must look half-mad.

“No, ah,” the outlaw clears his throat awkwardly, scratching at his short beard. “No, I am not here to rob you.”

“Then what is this?” Iris frowns, hand tightening on Sammy’s reigns. “Have I stolen something of yours, then? Another debt that has to be paid?”

Mr. Morgan looks uncomfortable. “No.”

“Then why have you sought me out? I thought you’d have gone far, far away from Strawberry by now.”

“Well,” Mr. Morgan takes a step forward, cautious as though he might spook her. “The people in town said you haven’t been seen for a good while, and I didn’t like how I just left you in the middle of nowhere the other day, so I came out to… well, to check on ya.”

“Do you always check on your debtors after you’ve taken their money?”

He frowns. “Well, no. But—"

“Then why bother? You don’t have a to give me, or my granddaddy, or the entirety of Strawberry a second thought. A lapse of judgement is what you’re experiencing, Mr. Morgan. So allow me to direct you back to Strawberry, and we can go our separate ways.”

Mr. Morgan’s voice rises an octave, indignance lacing his voice. “Direct me back to Str—”

“To Strawberry, yes.” Iris lets go of Sammy’s reigns and crosses the short distance between them. She rests her hand lightly on Mr. Morgan’s arm and nudges him to turn around, pointing somewhere off behind him with the map clutched tight in her hand. “You can get to Strawberry simply by going back the direction you came from.”

Mr. Morgan resists at first, then obliges her light shoving and turns. “I know that, Miss Cole. You might think me a fool, but I’m at least a fool who knows where he’s going—is that a treasure map?”

“It is.” Iris swiftly retracts herself from his space and starts walking away, her sore feet screaming with each step. “And it’s close.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time? People are worried about ya, Miss Cole.”

“I’m sure the only person breaking a sweat is Gramps, since I’m not there to clean up after him.”

“Well, what about your job?” Mr. Morgan says, following hastily after her. “Ain’t the hotel manager wondering where you are?”

“The hotel manager is dead,” Iris reminds him, halting to glare at a spot in the distance. Little Creek River. “Those treasure hunters shot Mr. Davis in the head.”

“Shit. Well… well someone else must’ve stepped up in the hotel,” Mr. Morgan says slowly, trying to salvage whatever’s left of his persuasion attempt. “There’s gotta be somethin’ in town that you gotta get back to. You can’t just wander around forever.”

Iris briskly spins around to glare at him. Mr. Morgan’s standing close enough that her long dark braid whips across his chest at the motion. “My boss at the hotel is dead. My job is most likely up in the air at the moment, and this is a moment I’d like to take to reflect on how I’ve been living my life.”

Mr. Morgan presses his lips together. “But you got—”

“I have nothing in that town, in that life, except for my leech of a granddaddy!” Iris looks at the worn map in her hands and sighs. “I don’t know if I want to go back to Strawberry, Mr. Morgan. I feel as though I’ve been going through my life like a phantom, and I need to start going through it like a person. With… with some kind of ambition. Something to look forward to.”

“Those are some dangerous thoughts, Miss Cole.”

“Are they?” Iris sighs again. “Twenty-seven years wasted in Strawberry. Did you know I’ve never set foot outside of West Elizabeth? Let alone Big Valley? I’ve got nothing to show for my life.”

“You don’t…” Mr. Morgan scowls. “You don’t have to show anyone anything.”

“I want to show myself something,” Iris says firmly, steeling his gaze. He often hides underneath his hat, she’s noticed, and being close enough now to peek under the brim and catch his blue-green eyes feels like she’s discovered something hidden once again. “I don’t know what I plan to do with my life after this, but for now, all I know is that I want to find this treasure. I want to show myself that I can find it.”

“And where is this treasure, huh?” Mr. Morgan scoffs. “No need to get all protective. I ain’t gonna take it from ya. I just… you—you look like hell, Miss Cole.”

Iris feels her face heat up. She scowls and walks away from him again, towards the soft sounds of trickling water. “I’m going to get this treasure, with or without your bothering.”

She hears Mr. Morgan mutter something under his breath, but he keeps following her. Risking a glance back, she sees that their horses are following after them slowly.

Little Creek River looks shallow enough that the water would barely come up to her ankles. Iris does her best to ignore Mr. Morgan’s lingering, glaring hard at the map while she hears him light a cigarette.

This looks like the spot. The way the illustration’s lines are darker around this particular bend looks precisely the same as the area in front of her. Iris’ eyes flit back and forth between the map and the riverbend before her. The X looks to be about ten feet away, buried right in the bed of the creek.

“How do you know that this is the river in the map?” Mr. Morgan’s voice grates over her thinking. He stands by their horses, cigarette between his fingers and a curious look on his face.

“I like riding around the valley when I get the time,” Iris answers, folding up the map and walking towards the treasure spot, the soil wet beneath her boots. “Not as often as I’d like, but… I admire the landscapes long enough to guess right about which stone goes where.”

“Well, you found that treasure last time. I can’t argue with that.” He snuffs the cigarette and looks around. “Damn. It’s gonna be dark any minute now.”

“Scared of the dark, Mr. Morgan?”

“Nah. Just don’t wanna die like an idiot, is all.” He walks to where she’s standing in the creek, brows raised as she kicks around the silt. “The wildlife around ain’t something to underestimate. Especially in the dark.”

Iris glances at him before sticking her hands into the cold, cold water to dig. “Could we camp, perhaps?”

“We?”

“I’m assuming you’re not going to leave me alone until we get back to Strawberry.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Mr. Morgan sighs. “Just… get a move on with that, will ya? Sun’s already coming down, and I’d rather find somewhere with four walls and a roof.”

Iris snorts, extracting her hands from the silt and opting to dig into the spot beside her previous attempt. “I suppose that’s better than a tent. But I doubt the folk living up in these parts would be hospitable.”

“There’s a cabin a heard about. I was plannin’ to camp there for a night or two to scope out another place nearby. Vetter’s Echo, I think it was called. Heard the owner hasn’t been seen for a long time. Whoever they are, they’re likely long gone, I’m positive they won’t mind if we use their place as shelter.”

“What were you planning to head up here for, if not to find me for whatever’s nagging at your conscience?” Iris says, then snorts. “An outlaw with a conscience, how ironic.”

Mr. Morgan makes a noncommittal sound. “It’s none of your business. Anyway, the cabin should just be up the ways from here. There’s likely some provisions there, which we need, because you’re lookin’ mighty peckish.”

“Were you planning a robbery?”

“None of your goddamn business, Miss Cole. You don’t need to get involved with that,” Mr. Morgan says firmly, all but confirming her suspicions.

Iris quietly wonders if she does want to get involved with that. She digs deeper into the silt, dirt getting caught beneath her fingernails. What does she plan to do after all of this? She can’t go back to monotonous life in Strawberry. She refuses.

Her nails scrape against something solid in the dirt. Iris jumps at the contact. “Oh! I’ve found it!”

Whatever it is, it’s smaller than a buried treasure chest from pirate stories. Definitely not shaped like any container Iris has seen before. Her fingers find some part to grip and curl around it, pulling it out of the riverbed. The top of it emerges from the silt as she pulls it up, smooth and bone white under the water.

Iris manages to pull the treasure up halfway before she recoils with a shriek, falling backward into the creek and soaking up even more of her skirts.

Mr. Morgan is next to her in a second, boots splashing in the shallow water and hands hovering cautiously over her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Iris doesn’t answer, just stares wide-eyed at the human skull still stuck in the silt. The human skull she dug up with her bare hands. Her skin crawls.

Mr. Morgan eyes follow to where she’s looking. He breathes an astounded, eloquent, “Jesus.”

“I… I touched it. Him. Her. Whoever they were,” Iris whispers, distraught. “I…”

“Well,” Mr. Morgan mutters, wading over to the skull. “Looks like you found your treasure.”

Mr. Morgan pulls the skull out of the silt and water, standing to his full height. Something about seeing him—someone else—taking her findings in their hands kicks Iris back into motion. Splashing a bit in the creek, Iris scrambles to a stand and snatches the skull right out of the outlaw’s hands.

“Thought you were frightened of it,” he says, shrugging and raising his hands in surrender.

Maybe at first.

“I was just surprised,” Iris says, narrowing her eyes at the small grin on his face. She turns her attention back to the skull. “Whoever this dead fella was… he can’t hurt me. Why should I be scared?”

“It’s not every day you dig up a dead head with your bare hands,” Mr. Morgan offers, perhaps attempting to console her. “Surprise and, uh, fear—it’s reasonable.”

Iris doesn’t answer him, but she frowns anyway, looking down at the skull so maybe Mr. Morgan doesn’t see her flushed face.

It’s already dark, the sun had fully set while she was digging, but Iris sees something in the skull’s hollowed eye catch briefly under the starlight. The smallest of shines.

“Miss Cole,” Mr. Morgan says, standing much closer now to look at the skull over her shoulder. His clothes smell like cigarette smoke. “I think you’re gonna have to—”

“Yes,” Iris cuts his sentence off swiftly, quietly. She swallows hard. “Yes, I see.”

“Would you like me to do it? It’ll still be your treasure, even if you let me.”

“I can do it. I will do it.”

Iris readjusts the skull in her hands, turning it upside down. She keeps a firm grip on the jaw, fingers sliding into the small, stiff opening of the mouth. With her other hand, she hooks her fingers into both eye holes, grimacing.

Sorry, she thinks. Then she pulls her hands apart with a sharp tug.

There’s a crunch as the jawbone snaps clean off, Mr. Morgan standing so close that with the force of her tug she accidentally elbows him when the piece comes loose. He lets out a small, winded oof as her elbow collides with his gut.

“Oh, sorry,” Iris says quietly, out of polite instinct. She’s not really paying attention, instead gazing into the hollow of the opened skull.

“No harm done,” he mutters.

There’s still quite a bit of bone in the way, but Iris turns the skull back right side up and shakes its contents into her palm. Several gold coins fall out, along with two more gold nuggets, and a small scrap of paper.

“You’re telling me that all this was buried not even a foot into the ground, for any fool to find?” Mr. Morgan huffs. “I should give up robberies n’ just start digging.”

“Any fool with a map,” Iris corrects, staring at the gold bunched in her hand with wide, wide eyes.

“And you knew exactly where it was again,” Mr. Morgan muses, stepping back and adjusting his hat. “Think you got a knack for this, Miss Cole.”

“I do, don’t I?” Iris looks down at herself, holding the treasures tight in her hand and the skull in the other. No bag, no pockets. She looks back up, past Mr. Morgan’s impressed expression and instead squints at the horses grazing several feet behind him. “Sammy! Sammy over here!”

Sammy finds the grass more interesting than the gold Iris is holding. Typical, that horse never listens to anyone.

“I’ll get him,” Mr. Morgan says, waving a hand as he walks away from her. He takes Sammy’s reigns and starts leading the horse towards where Iris stands by the creek, and whistles for his own dark horse to follow. “Charon! Follow me, boy.”

“Charon?” Iris asks when he’s back within earshot. “How dramatic of you.”

“Thought it’d fit him well,” the outlaw smiles fondly, tugging Sammy’s reigns. “I stole him at this show just outside of Valentine. There was a man on the stage, no arms and no legs, telling old Greek tales.”

“And you stole his horse?” Iris asks, clutching the skull and gold close to her chest.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Some bastard thought it’d be funny to throw things at the storyteller. He had a fine horse. That’s Charon right here,” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to his horse following him. “This here’s a dark bay Andalusian—a war horse. Thought it’d be nice to name him after that half-horse half-man the limbless man spoke of. The one who trained heroes.”

Iris frowns. She’s not the most educated person. Not educated like those city folks who stay at the hotel, but she has read some books, especially the ones educated city folk accidentally leave behind. A book about old myths from far away lands kept her up for weeks.

“Forgive me, Mr. Morgan, but I think you’re confused.”

He stops Sammy right in front of her and lets go of the reigns. “Confused?”

“The half-horse half-man you’re thinking of is Chiron. An easy mistake, I suppose, since the names are quite similar.”

Mr. Morgan stops and stares at her in disbelief. Perhaps he’s expecting her to laugh and joke, but she’s quite sure that Charon is not the figure he’s thinking of.

“Goddammit,” he exhales, voice rising an octave. He shakes his head, hiding beneath the brim of his hat. Iris wonders if he’s blushing. “So you’re tellin’ me I’ve been calling my horse some nonsense this whole time?”

“Not quite nonsense, no.” Iris walks over to Sammy’s saddlebag. “If I recall, Charon served as a ferryman to bring souls to Hades.”

Mr. Morgan hums, squinting at his horse as if to see if the story sticks.

Iris tries to fit the treasures in the small saddlebag, but the gun she picked off the dead treasure hunter is in the way. “If you keep the name, your horse is now death’s ferryman. Do you… do you see yourself as death, Mr. Morgan? Or I suppose the name could extend to you, making your horse the vessel and you the actual ferryman.”

“Well…” Mr. Morgan rests his hands on his gun belt, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I have killed some people… quite a lot of people. But it was them or me. Ah, I shouldn’t be saying these things to a lady.”

Before Iris can respond, she grabs the gun in the saddlebag the wrong way. Intending to extract it from the bag to make room, she accidentally hits the trigger and a shot fires a hole out of the bottom of the bag.

“Oh!” Iris startles back, ears ringing from the closeness of the gunshot. Sammy whinnies and rocks his head back and forth in a panic. Charon, on the other hand, doesn’t flinch at the sound.

“Jesus!” Mr. Morgan yells, hand instinctively falling to one of the revolvers holstered on his belt. “What the hell was that?”

“I… the gun—shit, I blew a hole through the saddlebag!”

“Why is there a gun in the saddlebag?”

“I took it from one of those treasure hunters you killed!” Iris snaps back at him. “What’s the problem with keeping it in on my horse, anyway? You got an entire armory on your war horse, Mister.”

Mr. Morgan sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Jesus.”

“Oh, this damn bag is ruined.” The saddlebag is useless now. The hole at the bottom is big enough for any of the treasures to fall out.

Mr. Morgan motions for her to come closer. “Alright, give the gold to me. I can put it in my satchel for the time being.”

“No!” Iris scowls, holding the treasures close. “Do you take me for some kind of idiot?”

“You’re an idiot if you think it’ll be a good idea to walk back into Strawberry holding that gold out for everyone to see.”

“How do I know you won’t just run away the moment I hand the gold over to you?”

Mr. Morgan places his hand on his chest, eyes serious. “I give ya my word that I won’t, Miss. I just wanna see you home safe.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Iris says. “You’ve made it clear several times that you rob people for a living.”

Something moves in Sammy’s saddlebag. A slow, sliding movement before it falls right out of the hole and lands on the grass with a thump. Her first gold nugget from the last treasure.

“Miss Cole, your treasure’s as good as gone if you try carrying it in that bag. I promise I won’t steal from you.”

Iris narrows her eyes at him, trying to look as threatening as she can, but the threat is lost the moment her hungry stomach rumbles as loud as thunder in the sky. Mr. Morgan’s lips quirk, the damned outlaw is trying not to laugh.

“Alright. Fine,” Iris frowns, stepping towards him. “Put it in your bag.”

Mr. Morgan flashes her a small, tight smile and moves for his satchel, opening it up for her to dump her gold into.

“You’re not keeping that skull, are ya?”

“I thought it could be a souvenir. A trophy for my findings.”

“I’m not carrying a dead fella in my satchel.”

“Oh, alright,” Iris says, slightly dejected. She turns around and tosses the skull back into the creek.

“Poor bastard,” Mr. Morgan says, watching the skull splash into the water. He picks up the last gold nugget from the ground and turns to his horse. “Come on, I’m sure there’ll be some food for you at Vetter’s Echo.”

-

The cabin is one of the smallest Iris has ever seen, and the moment she and Mr. Morgan hitch their horses a bad feeling settles in the pit of her stomach.

“Keep that gun with ya,” Mr. Morgan says. “We might find a holster for that in here. That means no more shooting holes through bags.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Iris asks, following him up the path. “What if someone is still living there? What if they don’t want us around?”

In the dark, the cabin looks eerie. What if whoever’s inside has gone mad from the isolation? What if they try to attack Mr. Morgan? Or if they try to attack her?

Iris tightens her hold on the treasure hunter’s revolver—her revolver. I’m a treasure hunter now too, I suppose.

“Then we rob whoever’s living in here,” Mr. Morgan shrugs, answering as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world. “Just enough to be on our way, we won’t let ‘em starve.”

“I saw camp supplies on your horse,” Iris suggests, casting a glance back at Charon in the trees. “Why couldn’t we just camp?”

“A fire and a tent ain’t gonna protect us if someone or some animal gets the wrong idea about approaching us,” Mr. Morgan answers gruffly. “Now if I was on my own, maybe I would’ve. But I think you’d be better indoors. Less chance for predators.”

Iris stops on the steps up to the cabin while Mr. Morgan quietly turns the doorknob. He grimaces when the door swings open with a rather loud creak, then takes a cautious step inside. Iris begins to follow him inside, but freezes when she hears a loud, loud rumble of breath.

“Shit,” is all she hears from Mr. Morgan inside before the roar of some kind of behemoth shakes the cabin.

There’s a shout from Mr. Morgan, and Iris makes it to the door to see a bear on top of him, roaring and clawing at him. The back of the cabin looks like it’s been torn open long ago, and judging by the old corpse on the floor next to Mr. Morgan, this bear has been the only occupant of the cabin for quite some time.

Iris screams, unsure what to do as Mr. Morgan gets mauled, fear freezing the blood in her veins. She’s never seen a bear up close, and her mind can’t fathom just how big a bear is. The walls of the cabin are practically hugging the creature.

Mr. Morgan cries out again, drawing a knife and slashing at the beast, and it’s only then that Iris registers that she’s here and that she can do something. Something, maybe, with the gun in her hands.

“What in high hell!” Someone screams, voice full of terror. Oh, it’s coming from her, she’s the one doing the screaming.

Mr. Morgan just barely dodges a swipe of the bear’s teeth before Iris finally kicks into motion, drawing her revolver and unloading every bullet left.

Which is about three bullets.

The bear roars as the bullets embed themselves into its hide, but it doesn’t seem to be too injured. Instead, it is still very intent on making Mr. Morgan its next meal. She watches Mr. Morgan continue his struggle, there’s a blur of the bear’s paws and suddenly a bleeding scratch on his arm.

Then she sees an old shotgun, lying on the ground between Mr. Morgan and the old corpse.

Iris has never fired a shotgun before.

She darts down for it, not really having to avoid the bear as it doesn’t even seem to be aware of her existence, and checks to see if the shotgun is loaded. Iris steps back into the doorframe and takes aim, this time being sure to not fire blindly and instead target the bear’s face.

In the heat of the moment, Iris forgets that some guns, powerful guns, not only pack a punch to whoever’s being shot, but also to whoever’s doing the shooting if they’re not prepared for it. Iris pulls the trigger, the blast of the gun deafening, and she sees the shot go right for the bear’s face before the recoil violently flings her back.

Iris hits the railing hard, promptly tumbling backward over it with a scream and free-falling several feet before she hits the ground.

She lies on the lumpy ground, flat on her back and blinking stars. Distantly, she still hears the bear’s growling, but now she hears Mr. Morgan’s ragged voice as well, calling out for her.

“Miss Cole! Goddammit! Miss Cole, you alive?”

Iris’ vision clears, and oh, the bear has left the cabin, breaking through the railing and heading straight for her. Its face is bloody, very bloody. Did I do that?

Oh, the bear looks very angry with her. Absolutely livid.

“Oh no,” she mumbles, disoriented, voice failing her as she starts backing away in the dirt. “Oh, please no.”

“Hey!” Mr. Morgan calls out, a desperate note to his rough voice. “Hey, you big bastard!”

The bear rises to its hind legs, towering over Iris and roaring. A shot rings out, and both the bear and Iris look back at the cabin to see Mr. Morgan standing by the broken rails, his hat gone to reveal a mop of short brown hair, pointing two revolvers at the bear with a furious look on his face.

Mr. Morgan fires both guns at the bear’s face. In that second, it’s as if there’s no end to the bullets. The speed of it takes Iris right back to when he gunned down those two treasure hunters before they could even blink.

The bear lets out one last groan before it collapses onto the ground, its big, bloody head landing right in front of Iris.

Mr. Morgan holsters his guns and starts walking over to her and the bear. “Did it get ya?”

Iris doesn’t directly answer. She only leans back to lie flat on the grass again, a twig poking into her head as she looks up at the night sky. “Oh my goodness.”

“I was not expecting that,” Mr. Morgan murmurs, kicking the bear’s paw as he inspects the corpse. “Thank you, by the way.”

Iris sits up, willing her heart to stop its panicked racing. “For what?”

“Shootin’ the damn thing. Saved my life.”

“Well, you killed it. I s’pose I should thank you for saving my life as well.”

“Nah,” he says, smoothing back his hair. “Makes us even, I guess.”

He then draws a knife, bends down, and begins cutting away into the bear.

“What… what are you doing, Mr. Morgan?”

“Arthur,” he says.

“Pardon?”

“Just call me Arthur.”

“Okay… Arthur. Well, then you can just call me Iris. I suppose there’s no need for formalities if you’ve fought a bear together.”

Mr. Morgan—Arthur—huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I think camping might be safer, Arthur.”

“Yeah. That ain’t no four walls and a roof up there anyway.”

“Three walls and a dead man.”

Arthur snorts and tears at the bear’s skin. “Better him than us, Miss—uh, Iris.”

Iris plucks a leaf out of her hair. “Better him than us.”

Survey #204

“welcome to the gospel of dismay.”

Have you ever started reading a book and wondered if you’d read it before? I don't believe so. What has been bothering you a lot lately? Just job stuff... My VR coach and I are having difficulty finding something suitable for me (or something I'm even qualified for) to the point it's looking like I have no choice but to reach out of my comfort zone quite a bit. Thankfully, whatever I do, she goes to work with me and my case isn't closed until I feel totally comfortable at the job, but I just don't want to hop around five times until I find something that fits. I'm just ready to be settled into a job that's not torture for me. What (or who) have you been missing lately? I've been missing Sara really, really badly. My friend Alex, too. It's seemed lately that I only matter when she wants to talk, solely about her boyfriend. As for what, motivation... It's been running low low low lately. Miss having the drive to write like I used to. Miss hobbies. I miss doing things. Are you trustworthy? Yes. Did your parents teach that white lies were ok? In few situations, such as not to hurt other's feelings. Have you ever hallucinated? When coming off of a medication, yes. I saw moving shadows. Do you sleep with your door open or closed? Open. Roman would neeeever let me sleep with it closed, but even then, I prefer not to have it closed. My mom sleeps right outside my room on the couch, and even though we're sleeping, it gives me a natural sense of security to be able to see her. I'm such an infant. By God, do I need to loosen up on my attachment to her. What flags do you have in your room, if any? None. What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? Recovery is the best thing, as for who, Sara. Although in some ways you could say Jason just because of how he changed me to an incredible degree and brought about the development of a lot of strength and less naivety, plus a LOT of self-discovery. I guess it depends on how you look at the question. What is the worst decision you ever made? Essentially turning Jason into a god. Letting my life depend on him loving me. Do you miss college? Jfc, I miss school PERIOD. I don't need to give the sob story about how I'm like a prisoner to my house again and how I don't really have friends. I miss having a purpose, and I neeeeed to be exposed to strangers again for social exercise, as well as hopefully to make friends. I just want something to do and work towards my career. I stg my fucking old college better get their shit together so I can go next semester. I will actually lose my shit otherwise. Have you ever called a teacher “mom”? I think I have by accident before. I still call an old teacher that's now a family friend "2nd Mom" sometimes. What is your favorite arcade game? Idk what are "normal" ones. Oh, well, do crane machines count? So rigged, but they're fun. Do you feel neglected? No, for the most part. Those most important in my life are doing everything to make sure I can handle the "real" world one day. What school subject(s) are/were your best? English, art, and science. Are you allergic to grass? No. Do you remember to water plants? I don't have any. What season is your birthday in? Winter. Name 3 creative people you know. Sara, Connie, and Emma to name just a few. Name 3 YouTubers you aspire to be like. Markiplier for work ethic, creativity, compassion, wisdom, determination, etc. etc. etfuckingc., Shane Dawson for kindness, aaaaand uhhhh Arin Hanson for how down-to-earth and chill he is behind his goofy exterior. What color was your first car? Haven't had my first one yet. What year did you graduate? 2014. When was the last time you saw the person you currently have feelings for? Not since early February. Have you ever been scammed? Ummmm idk, maybe? Are you allergic to pollen? Yes. What style of wedding dress do you like best? Ballgown. Are you over your first love? Yes. Do you talk on the phone a lot? No. Would you rather call or text? Text, big time. Do you always answer your phone? Most times. When was the last time you went to a party? Nicole didn't really have a "party," nor did Sara, so technically my nephew's birthday in August. What was the last thing you ate? A bagel. What’s the last book you checked out from the library? I couldn't tell you. Do you have a twitter? Yeah, but I post nothing. It only exists to like Mark's shit lmao. If so, what was the last thing you tweeted? ^ Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? My mom. What’s the last thing you cooked on the stove? Scrambled eggs eons ago. What color is the cover of the last notebook you used? Hot pink. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? Alex. Who sent the last e-mail you got? Mad Ethel's tattoo parlor. I was talking with them about enhancing my tat I got in tribute to Mark; I don't think it looks spacey enough at all, so I'm going to a more professional artist. I mean I like what it is now, but I want to love it. I got a price estimate, aaand it's probably gonna be a while. What song is currently stuck in your head? "Legs Up" by Jeffree Star bye I'mma go jump off a bridge. Do you have a favorite shape? Of basic shapes, circles. What color are the sheets on your bed? White, which I hate; between Roman and Teddy, you can tell it needs to be changed desperately. What time do you usually go to bed? It can range from very rarely as early as 7:00 (I have to be having a baaaaad day) to as late as midnight. Yeah. Do you ever use coloring books? Not anymore. Are you planning on watching the Olympics? I never do. Do you pronounce the word "often" with or without a "t" in the middle? With. Have you ever been on a trapeze? No. Do you enjoy popping bubble wrap? Omfg GIMME. Are there any waterfalls near where you live? No. Do you like seafood? No, solely shrimp prepared in certain ways. Have you ever had to wear a uniform for anything? In middle school. Then at my two jobs. If so, what did it look like? Middle school was khaki pants with plain tops of only certain colors, like white or light blue (those may have been the only options, even). I don't remember the work ones, I was there so briefly. Do you personally know anyone who is an author? No. Do you own a Polaroid camera? No. Do you enjoy baking? I don't enjoy cooking period. What’s your favorite type of flower? Orchids. Last time (if ever) you were on an airplane, where were you going? Back home from Illinois. Do you know anyone who is left-handed? Sara. What is something you think is underrated? Hm. Probably certain shows or movies that aren't coming to mind. Ah, "The Cat in the Hat" with Mike Myers is certainly one for me. It's such a meme that it's awful, but I love that movie. Around what temperature do you consider it to be too hot outside? Like 65*F. In what ways do you expect your life to be different one year from now? I BETTER have a stable job. How often do you travel outside of the state/province you live in? Not often at all. What’s a hobby you used to have, but don’t anymore? Sigh, reading. That hobby died at the hospital, when all I had to do was read and color all day every day because the mental institutions here are godawful. I really do miss reading. What has been your favorite job you’ve had so far? Ha. What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? Just the normal spicy kind. Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? I don’t have a car. Where is the farthest north you’ve traveled to? Michigan. Farthest south? Florida. East? Well, here in NC. West? Illinois. How often do you run the dishwasher? We don't have one. Do you wash your face at the sink or in the shower? Sink. Name a stereotype about your gender that you don’t fit. I have no desire for kids, I hate shopping, I have no interest in fashion... Name a stereotype about your age that you don’t fit. I still don't want kids/don't have any kids. Do you have any unusual decorations in your home? Not really, but I suppose you could say my late grampa's old "cowboy" hat with feather tassels hanging on the wall is? It's aaaalways been on the walls in all our houses. Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? I dunno. I don't use any. What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? Mom majors in social work; Dad never went. Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? No. What is the highest level math class you’ve completed? I don't remember. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? Idr. How old were you when you learned how to swim? Again, idr. How do you react when someone is rude to you? I get really embarrassed for whatever reason and also verbally impulsive; you don't know what's gonna come out of my mouth. Have you ever had a friend who was too clingy? No, but then again, I don't know if "too clingy" exists for me. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? It's too goddamn hot and humid as FUCK and all the insects are out. Do you have a Netflix account? Yes. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. Where is your favorite place to go on vacation? Honestly, I can't even tell you. I've been on so, so few vacations, and those I have are almost exclusively to the beach, which I don't like. How long does it take to get there? The beach is ~2+ hours depending on which one we're going to. When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? When I fully let Jason go, I guess. I don't think I've had a massive change since then. What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? I never go into my sister's old room. What is the last random act of kindness you did? Don't drag me for playing WoW please okay. But anyway me and another player were heading to an old raid, and I flew to the spawn point of an incredibly rare mob that drops a mount to see if it was up; he was, and the guy was super thankful I checked for him (I already had it, so it wasn't for my own benefit). Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? I do the opposite, really... as much as I hate that. I learned to finally keep the lights on in the room I'm in to combat depression, and after finding that it truly works well (if you have depression, seriously, LIGHT THAT ROOM UP), if it's even SLIGHTLY darker without it, that ceiling light's going on. Then at night, Mom likes me to keep the living room light on so it looks like more people are home (it's for safety). Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? Nooooooo. Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? I LAAAAAAAAAHV them! Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? "I’ve had sex dreams but they weren’t kinky." <<<<<<<<<< Is there a song you can’t stop listening to atm? I have been craaaazy about Caleb Hyles covers lately. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? Yes. That's when I finally ended the "thing" with Joel, I think. If your Facebook status doesn’t get any likes/comments, does it bother you? If it's something I actually wrote instead of something I shared (which is almost exclusively what I do), I get really self-conscious and automatically embarrassed because my head screams "NOBODY CARES." Which friend do you confide in most? Easily Sara. Do you wear a cross? No. What is your opinion on Arby's? Ew. When you have your own kitchen, how will it be done? I don't know. Haven't really thought about it, and besides, I think it'd depend on the layout. What is your favorite doughnut? Glazed. Closely followed by classic/cake. Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? HA bitch we're poor. Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? Didn't read the books or watch the movies. What is your favorite party game? Mario Kart. Do you or your parents rake your yard? No. Were you pro-Obama? I was indifferent considering I didn't know enough about him. What is your favorite scent from Bath & Body Works? *shrugs* What was the last illegal thing you did? Downloaded music. Who did you last go to the movies with? Ummm... Mom, I think? What color was the last vehicle you were in? White. Do you have any family members in the military right now? No. Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? No. When was the last time you wished time would move faster? Like... every day for a long, long time now. I just want to have a job or be in school. I want to make progress towards a successful future. I know that's an extremely unhealthy desire to want to zoom through each day, but it's hard to cherish every, identical day lately. Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? No. Have you ever heard voices? Audibly? I don't think so. Do you believe in angels and demons? I don't really know. I know there's life after death, but like, I don't know if your soul is "categorized." Who is the worst neighbor you have ever had? I can't really get into that as I don't know the full story... Dad was good friends with them, but Mom got along with them too, and came divorce time, they turned evil to Mom. I don't know things that were said. Did your Barbies go on dates? I don't remember. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. She's the one who talked me through the revelation. Where did you meet your first crush? We went to the same school. Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? No. Do you ever go places with wet hair? Yeah. Who is your favorite little girl? My niece. What do you want the most in life? Happiness. What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? Letting Jason become everything. Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? I wonder quite a bit who I'd be if the breakup never happened. When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? No. Even when someone is home, I keep it cracked so it doesn't get so humid. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? Uhhhhh would any female not choose Amy Lee. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Metal, rock, indie. Where did you buy your dishes from? I have NO idea. We've had the same fancy-ish dishes my entire life. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? In my lifetime, no. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money? I have no clue. What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? I also don't know. Have you ever been on a ship? No, just boats. Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media? No. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? David. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? I'd have to think way too long on this. ACTUALLY. Maybe the Cheshire cat, off the top of my head. What’s a class you did not take in school, but now wish you had? None. Have you ever been to either of your parents’ workplaces? Yeah. What do you think of the ‘Healthy At Every Size’ movement/philosophy? ACTUALLY fuck off. Coming from someone who is overweight, get out of here with that shit. Don't normalize an unhealthy body. Have you ever been bitten so hard that their teeth marks were there after? Uh, other than in a sexual context, I don't think so, no. WAIT NO I bit my sister's back so hard as a kid that she bled, so probably. Ever been given a hickey? (Love bite) Well read above. Ever gave one? Yeah. Are you more of an outgoing type or shy type? I'm shy as fuck. Do you think it's weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? If you do think it is, I want nothing to do with your ass. It's 2019. Are you self conscious? If so what are you self conscious about? More than words can explain. My awkwardness, stuttering, lack of comfort with eye contact, and my body. Are you flirty at all? In certain instances with an s/o. Are you racist at all? No. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) It depends on the disability. With my own issues, I need to be able to handle theirs. If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do? Call the police. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? If I was to have kids, I'd rather them be my own or wife's if I'm with a woman. But again, I don't want kids period. What would you class as cheating on someone? As soon as you're hiding shit regarding another person from your partner. Do you try to be politically correct? Only to a certain degree. What’s your favorite kind of sea critter? That's hard. I love seahorses, sea turtles, jellyfish, dolphins, whales... Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before? I don't think so. As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? Studs. Do you find P.E. humiliating, or think schools shouldn’t teach it? It wasn't humiliating, at least back then when I had a healthy body. I have mixed emotions about its mandatory status... Like, exercise should absolutely be encouraged, but P.E. classes tend to be entirely inflexible in regards to accommodating different people's limits and conditions. Do you recycle? Sadly no. We have to drive to the dump in order to, and Mom got tired of it. Are you interested in current world issues? Not even nearly as much as I should. Do you think you are mature, or immature? It depends on the situation. What kind of career are you interested in? It'd be great if I could survive just off of photography, but odds are I won't be able to. So I'm trying to go back to college and major in zoology to be an out-on-the-field zoologist. Do you own a pair of sunglasses? No. Do you use bobby pins, hair clips, or elastic hair ties? Which? None; my hair is really short. When it was long, I used hair ties. How badly do you get acne? (If at all) I don't anymore, just the occasional pimple usually around that time of the month. What’s the best way to cope with a breakup? YOU ARE ASKING THE WRONG PERSON. If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason? For those who don't know me thoroughly, I wouldn't be even remotely surprised if someone thought I was a lazy freeloader going nowhere. I feel like most people think that anyway because I'm going through hell to get a job, don't have friends, and am not back in school yet. How many text messages do you have in your inbox atm? No unread ones. When was the last time you had a difficult decision to make? Last week or so when I deeply debated on whether or not to get rid of Kaiju (my juvenile don't-touch-me iguana). In school, what subjects do/did you find the most difficult? Math and economics. Do you still speak to the person you had your first kiss with? No. Where did you meet the last person you swapped numbers with? I believe that was my VR coach? Who was the last person to add you as a friend on Facebook? My old high school friend Robert. This dude's working at NASA while I'm at home every day at my laptop. I'm an adult. Who was the last person that asked if you were okay? My mom. What does your handwriting look like? It's a mix of (mostly) cursive and print, and I'm usually told it's "too" fancy and hard to read. Do you use any products on your hair, other than shampoo and conditioner? No. Who were your best friends in primary school? Brianna, Kim, and Quiata. Do you still speak to any of them? No. What was the last thing you bought from a vending machine? Probably a drink. I don't remember the last time I used one. What color hair did your first crush have? Brown. What type of shoes do you find the most comfortable? Maybe Vans? Are you more masculine or feminine? Idk. If you could design your own mug, what would you put on it? Idk. Rainbow meerkat pawprints going up in a spiral around the cup? First thing that came to mind. What is the best beach you’ve been to? I've only been to two (I think), and I don't care enough about beaches or remember well enough to answer this. What is one thing you physically can’t do? There is no way in Heaven or Hell I could clean up vomit without hurling myself. Have you ever been to a funeral? Yes. Have you ever visited your state’s capitol building? No. Have you ever visited your nation’s capitol building? No. Do/did you have a favorite seat in church? No. What is your favorite park? Disney World, of course. Have you ever felt an earthquake? No. Do you chew gum regularly? No. Where did you go on your first train ride? N/A Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? Most likely. What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) None, really. I grew up automatically biased to the Carolina Hurricanes in hockey thanks to Dad, but I don't actually care. Do you dunk your cookies in milk? Oreos, preferably. Others, sometimes. What is something you are confident about? My knowledge of meerkats. Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What? I don't really know if this "counts" as it was the product of severe anxiety over vomiting, but in middle school, I would constantly think I was going to be sick and took one Peptobismol literally everyday at school, usually in I think second period when my anxiety was bad enough. It finally ended when we ran out and I had to go without it and I saw I was okay. I was so happy when that shit ended. How do you feel about needles? Eh. The feeling is obviously unpleasant, but they don't bother me much; not at all for tattoos. Getting shots or blood drawn is a bit more "ew" because of the needle's length. But anyway, in general, needles are okay. What is your favorite accent to listen to? Maybe French for women, British for men. Or British for both, idk. What was the reason you last got dressed up? Went job hunting with my VR coach. Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? Not really cruel, no. ^ What were they? N/A Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? A bit loose. ^ What about on your preferred gender? I like both men and women, so. I tend to like more form-fitting on women and looser on men. Maybe. Idk actually. But pants. Give me skinny jeans on everyone. What do you do when you are really, really mad? Be WAY too impulsive about what comes out of my mouth. And I cry. Would you rather go naked than wear fur? Omfg don't do this. I guess wear fur. I hate my body too much. But I'd feel absolutely godawful. Do you put a line through your 7's? Yes. ^ What about your Z's? Yes. What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgivable? More than anything else, rape. Are you able to forgive and forget? It's rare I'm unable to forgive, but forget? Nope. Do you like cold pizza? Yeah. What is your favorite fruit? Strawberries. Kiwi, too. What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit? Peach/mango mix. Do you like broccoli and cheese? Oh my god in Heaven, yes. What about potatoes and cheese? Yeah. Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom? Not lately. Toaster or toaster oven? I've only ever had a toaster oven. I like how you can see if something is starting to burn, anyway. What are you most known for? Likes meerkats more than she likes 99% of the human population. I keep my worship of Mark Fischfuckface on the down low irl so meerkats win overall. Do you have any reputations? What are they? I don't think so. Do you wear band shirts? Yeah. ^ What band was on the last one you wore? Uh... shit. I think Metallica? It's rare I have to put on "real" clothes now (yes, I stay in pjs all day bc I never leave the house), so idrk. Do you own any hats? Describe them. No. What about masks, you got any? Describe those. No. What was the last thing to leave you speechless? Watching the spire of the Cathedral collapse yesterday. That whole thing broke my heart. I know the serious valuables were saved, but still, there was so much damage to 800 years of incredible art and history. Do your parents like your friends? If they don’t, why not? I have like... one irl, serious friend. They both love him. Have you been called a bad influence? Yes. As if she wasn't an awful one. Describe your favorite pair of socks. They're covered in meerkats. :'D Thanks, big sister. Have you experienced any life-changing news, events, etc, lately? No. Have any self-done piercings? No, not doing that shit. I'm too serious about piercings being done well and in the most hygienic manner. Ever pierced someone else? No, for the same reasons as above. Do you get distracted easily? Holy shit, yes. Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful? It's anxiety-inducing as hell. How do you feel about getting new neighbors? Idc. How many ceiling fans are in your home? None. Do you tweet your life away? I don't use it. How do you feel about shameless self promoting? Ever since actually trying to get out in the freelance photography world, I get it, as uncomfortable as it is. HOWEVER, there are absolutely places where doing it is inappropriate. When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods? Yeah. What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS? Yeah.

19th december 2016

Okay Okay Okay Uhm First things first, (I'm the realest) I'm fucking nervous for this new therapy thingie I'm go Freedom, I don't feel that. Imagination, I do have that. And I can imagine what Freedom feels like. Like.. Uhm Like stepping out the door and it's really cold out and you're still comfortable from the warmth inside and you're wearing warm clothes and you don't know where you're going and the light outside is bright and you bite for that first heap of air. That first breath. That's what I imagine Freedom feels like. That's what I know Freedom feels like. Problem is tho. It's not a constant. Far from it. For almost constantly I feel pressed. Stressed. Afraid even. I mean, fucking laugh all you want, but I'm genuinely scared for a third World War to break out. And I ain't fighting for a country that I don't feel a part of. I'm not fighting for borders I don't believe in. I'm not fighting for a system that's not built for me. I'm not fighting to protect the generations above me that are fucking me over. I'm not gonna protect a people or a country or a system that has never picked up responsibility. Fuck that. And fuck you. I would fight tho. Not for you. For me. For my generation. I'm afraid I'm able to pick up arms to fight the ones that never claimed responsibility. I'm able to terrorize. My generation is capable of terrorism. HOW IN THE NAME OF FUCK DO YOU SPREAD IDEOLOGY WITHOUT IT LEADING TO VIOLENCE?! There's Extremist Buddhists right now! Are you reading this?! Extremist, violent, killing, terrorizing, FUCKING BUDDHISTS?! what the fuck (I luv buddhism 😭) (I luv marxism 😭) (If I was born two hundres years ago I would have luved kapitalism) Okay Okay Okay Gaaaaaaawd Let's talk, shut up Ghiel. Let me write about this upcoming third year exhibit. I figured I was done for that. Or well, that I had my concept ready, and that's like half the work. But! Talking with Juf yesterday and talking with my new psychologist fucked this up. See, my idea was to present my readymades; Britney (2007), Kim K (2016), Nicolas Bourriad on fb and Marina and Ulay on Tumblr. Now, I had the intention of showing this in an art context to see what would happen, how people would respond, what they would think and learn. Basically it being an extension of the research that I'm already doing while finding these readymades. And so, I wanted to talk to all of the viewers and visitors and hear them out. But I cant be everywhere! So insert: Doubles! Dopplegangers, lookalikes. I've been wanting to work with doubles for quite some time now. Ever since I was starting to work with fashion. Seemed like a lot of fun! Hahah and it clearly makes a statement on fame and the artist myth and the artist's created persone. Lyfe as a form of art! Persona as a work of art! And then I envisioned my Doubles to have my readymades on their laptop/iPhone/iPad. And then what? Will they approach every visitor? Will they walk around the exhibit? Will they have to stay in the exhibit? Do they have to stay in one place? Should they wait for visitors to address them? I DONT KNOWWWW OKAY so juf warned me that all these layers could get in the way of eachother. And then my psychologist today was talking about communication and how multiple layers of communication get in the way of eachother and are confusinf. I don't want this to happen. I think. The thing also is that I'm not working with one statement here. I'm uhm.. it's research. And that's what's fucking me up right now. I cannot implement clear communication into this exhibit if I don't have anything to communicate. What the fuck should I do? The commision wants the application in two days and I don't have a clear ideea to start working with. Fuuuuuuuuyyyyyycj Maybe doing research isn't a bad thing. It could be super interesting. I was also thinking that I don't have to be in this exhibition. If I think about 'the greater whole' I would much rather be in your phone, in your pocket forever than in your face for about a minute. Fuuuuuyyyck im soooo lossssst This fucking pressure. Goddamn I could also Have the readymades hung up on the walls. Neat. Nice. Empowering. Monumental. And now, it's a one night exhibit. So everybody wants to talk to the artist, right? Insert doubles. Fuck! No! The doubles lose all their function. Do they? It's still a statement on the artist's created persona. God, I'm so lost. I hate everything coming out of my brain right now. I just wanna make music, fam. First things first. Jezus Zo de weg kwijt Okay Okay Okay Let's see Chapters? Ja sure let's do this Chapterssss... Uhm.. Omggg Daily Wisdom? Philosophy? UTOPIA icons, iconoclasm? The way every human being comes to fruition? Is there a word for that? My god, I feel like these chapters are gonna change every single day. Whats the point of this? WHATS THE POINT TO LYFE? Ah, existentialism is another one I think. Do I have too many already? Looooooost (boys) I feel like these chapters are intertwining. Wait, that's allright, right? Like Fuck Idk Cos Me now starting with music is mostly Daily Philosophy, but also a part Iconoclasm and icons Yes those two go together! What the fuck! 2k16's so weird! I have to prevent WW3 I don't feel like I will ever be an essayist like they're supposed to be. Jesus I'm all over the place Fuck conservatists Fuck patriarchy Fuck sexism Fuck you I'm so energetic and soooo tired at the same time I got this hyperfocus going on but it's going eeeeeverywhere How to spread ideology (without violence) is a chapter i think Let's see What do I have so far? Everyday Philosophy Utopia Iconoclasm Human being to Fruition Existentialism (Idiot, that's equal to the first one) Spreading Ideology (on your bread!) Okay Let's put them in order of what's chronologically kinda possible slash logical hahahaa fuck me Everyday (i dont like that word) Philosophy Ordinary? Daily? Common? Idk? Iconoclasm Daily Philosophy Human being to Fruition Spreading Ideology UTOPIA I feel like there is so many joints and bridges that these topics turn into a fucking paste in my head. And I feel like anyone can see that and that makes me feel dumb. Are these all the chapters? Who knows? You don't even know, Ghiel. I want a blog. For all my diaries and thoughts and sources. And i wanna start on my youtube channel. I tried changing my age on facebook. I couldnt? Huuuah? Daily Philosophy is the means, no the medium to handle EXISTENTIALISM thats the chapter. Lets see Where the fuck am I in these chapters? EQUALITY: iconoclasm EXISTENTIALISM: daily philosophy EQUALITY AGAIN?: Human being to fruition UTOPIA: Spreading ideology Utopia Equality+existentialism=utopia? Again EQUALITY EXISTENTIALISM UTOPIA Betekenisvolle naïviteit That's what I have to grasp. Meaningful naivity. Giving meaning to your lyfe in order to survyve. Okay God I'm so tired now. EXISTENTIALISM is the chapter I'm in right now. My works; Destruction Is Followed By Growth, Kijker=Kunst and (You're) Welcome, Not Welcome all dealt with ICONOCLASM. ICONOCLASM to me is fucking up authority, power, expectations and elitism. In my personal lyfe I resist against authority. I don't feel like anyone deserves it. In the bigger picture it's resisting against, well, in the forenamed cases: the zeitgeist, the pedestal and, yes, the police hahaha. Kijker=Kunst dealt with EXISTENTIALISM as well (and even utopia) and well, see, uhm.. Once you (I) dealt with Iconoclasm, you're on your own. You are by yourself. You are selfreliant. (Jesus fuck, terrorist attack in Berlin? Fuuuuck) I am on my own. What will I do today? Tomorrow? For the rest of my life? My friend Joost said the legendary words: 'Giving meaning to your lyfe is a way of survyval.' For without it, you will kill yourself. (Omg did he just say that?) Ja, the case is I neeeed existentialism, I neeeeeed a reason, I neeeeed a meaning. Therefor you, yes YOU need this too. See, this, our time is post-theosomething.. There's no religion. There's noone giving you meaning and without it you are in danger. Jesus, this sounds dramatic. I can't focus anymore. Imma pee. Basically, I wanna save the world hahahah save every fucking human Or well, I care for people. I really do. And I consider the globally ignoring and not knowinf of wishes and initiatives is one of the greatest problems facing us. And I see an outcome or a solution in existentialist philosophy. Problem with this is that philosophy is packed in thick books that barely anyone ever gets to reading and truly understanding. So I feel I should take this knowledge I've taken and developed and pour it in a shape that's accesible. And above all: fun. Yes, it has to be fun. If it doesn't have entertainment value it will only be interesting to a certain few and like I said: I care for all people. So I will do my best to reach as many as possible. Without compromising. So right now I will build, create, shape an album. A music album. To reach people with abstract knowledge packed in words in a form that is entertaining and accesible and is from all media that I know most likely to be repeated the most.