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chelsfic · 4 years

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Leftovers - Part 4 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous Parts: Masterlist

Summary: Vampire (bite) aftercare, Nandor tries to pretend like he doesn’t want to fuck you, you bond with Guillermo!!, and the gang gets an invitation!

A/N: GUYS! You’re so nice to me with all these comments and asks!! You keep me going! I hope you like this chapter. I didn’t mean for it to be the Guillermo slumber party chapter, but here we are.

Warnings: Reader described as short and plays roller derby, vampire/human relationships, blood drinking, smut (in other chapters), power differential

---

Nandor lays you down on the towels and picks up the tube of antibiotic cream on your nightstand. He wrinkles his nose as he unscrews the cap.

“This ointment is putrid,” he grumbles, but he squirts some out onto his fingers anyways and gently applies it to the wounds on your neck.

Whatever remaining energy you had following the feeding seems to have bled away with your makeout session because you can barely keep your eyes open now. The antibiotic stings a bit but you’re grateful for the attention and feeling a little light-headed and delirious--which surely accounts for the way you nuzzle your face against Nandor’s forearm as he tends to the wound.

“There, all better,” he proclaims as he places a large band-aid on your neck. He sits there for a moment, fidgeting awkwardly with his cape before abruptly standing. “I will tell Guillermo to bring you some of your electrolyte drink.”

---

“It seems the human wants to do the sex with me,” Nandor leans into the camera conspiratorially. “I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Humans have always been attracted to my dark power but…”

He grimaces in distaste and shakes his head, “I’ve never seen the appeal. Vampire/Human relationships? I mean...why? They die--either you eat them or they get old and gross…”

Nandor pauses at a muffled question from behind the camera.

He shrugs and knits his brows together, “Why would it be different with this human?”

“[Unintelligible]...out of your way not to kill her…”

“Yes, because of her virgin blood!” Nandor exclaims, enunciating his words condescendingly. “Why would I do the sex with her? Then she wouldn’t taste good anymore. Sex with humans is more trouble than it’s worth. They’re weak...fragile...they have to breathe. Where is the fun?”

Nandor reaches the bottom of the stairs and pauses to call out, “Guillermo!”

“Yes, master?” Guillermo pops out of his closet-bedroom and goes to the vampire’s side at once.

“I’ve just fed from the mortal. Bring her the Gatorade beverage and a snack. She’s very weak,” Nandor commands.

“Right away, master,” Guillermo does a little half bow and turns to leave.

Nandor puts out a hand to stop him, “She likes the blue flavor. Make sure you get the right one.”

Guillermo shoots a shocked look directly into the camera. When was the last time Nandor ever recalled a little detail like that about him?

Guillermo scurries away and Nandor rearranges his cape, making ready to leave for the evening. He catches the camera guy staring at him with a knowing smirk.

“What?!”

---

“Thanks, Guillermo,” you murmur after a sip of Gatorade. You have no idea what the proper treatment for blood loss is, but a snack is always nice. Maybe you should start taking iron supplements?

Guillermo goes to leave but you stop him.

“Will you...stay with me for a little while?” you ask feeling unaccountably timid. “I feel gross and I don’t want to be by myself…”

Guillermo looks like he’s torn but he finally sighs and walks back over to you, perching awkwardly beside you on the bed.

“Sure, I’ll stay for a bit,” he says and you give him a toothy grin.

You turn on your side to face him, snuggling up under the covers and giving yourself some major slumber party vibes. You’re finally going to bond with Guillermo! He’s sitting rigidly up against the headboard and you have to swallow a laugh.

“Thanks, Guillermo,” you try to imbue your sincere gratitude into the words. “And...I’m sorry if you feel like I’m coming between you and Nandor. I don’t mean to…”

Guillermo lets out a long sigh, “It’s not your fault. He’s always been distant with me and I’m just...surprised to see him being so nice to another human.”

“Nice?” you laugh. “I’m still not convinced he isn’t planning on draining me dry one of these nights…”

Guillermo scoffs and shakes his head, “I don’t think so, Smash. I mean...he seems to care about you?”

The thought gives you a secret thrill that you try to ignore. Having feelings for a vampire--that’s pretty much the closest thing to a death wish you can imagine. But you find yourself raising your fingers to your lips and recalling the press of his mouth on yours. You look up to see the sad look on Guillermo’s face and it squeezes your heart.

“Hey… I’m sure Nandor cares about you, too,” you offer. You’re trying to come up with something to say to cheer him up when your brain backtracks and processes his words, “Hey! Did you just call me my derby name!?”

Guillermo blushes adorably and stammers, “Oh--uh, yeah? Is that okay? Or is it only for other skaters to use?”

You can’t help it, he’s such a teddy bear, you reach out and squeeze his arm in a hug.

“No, it’s great! Oh my god, Guillermo, we’re really gonna be friends, aren’t we!?” you gush.

“I guess so…hey, can I ask you something?” Guillermo scoots down the bed so that he’s laying on the pillow next to yours and facing you. Slumber party vibes!

“Shoot,” you reply.

“What’s it like?” he pauses and darts his eyes away from yours before looking back at you. “When he bites you?”

Your lips twist into a crooked smile and your turn your face into the pillow to hide with an embarrassed squeak. The bite and the making out are all jumbled together in your stupid human brain. Was it painful? Sexy? Hot? Horrifying? All of that, yes.

“It’s…” you struggle for words. “Intimate. You’re very close and he wraps his arms around you. He’s so strong, you couldn’t struggle away from him if you tried. But you don’t...try. Because his eyes are so dark and intense and...gorgeous and they’re focused just on you. And then he puts his mouth on your neck and for a second it’s like a kiss but then he bites and it hurts. But his lips are still on you and his hands. He puts his hand on your head to support you and you feel kind of...taken care of? While he’s--uh--you know, drinking your blood. You worry that he’ll go too far and forget to stop but then you’re floating and happy and you don’t care anymore if he stops or not. But he does. And his lips are red with your blood but they still look so soft and--and...uh. And, uh, that’s pretty much it.”

Guillermo’s staring at you with his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Have you--did you two--? Smash!”

You’re burning with embarrassment and you stumble over your words, “What? No! We haven’t...well--not much. But--would it be bad if we did?”

In this moment Guillermo looks like nothing so much as a concerned older brother and you want to melt a little.

“It’s...I don’t know?” he shrugs but his eyes are a little frantic. “Vampires are very, very...sexual beings. And you’re a virgin--which they love for, uh, other reasons but...I’m just a little worried you might be in over your head.”

You sigh and try to suppress your natural instinct to be defensive. You are in over your head. You’re living in a vampire house as a live-in blood donor.

“So, you and Nandor have never…?” it’s a question you’ve been asking yourself since you first met Guillermo.

He smiles slightly and shakes his head, “No. We’re not--that’s not what our relationship is about. I care about Nandor, of course. And there was a time that I felt more but...I’ve let it go.”

You frown at his answer, “Are you sure? Because I don’t want to cause any drama…”

“Really, Smash. Nandor’s my... friend--even if he has a funny way of showing it most of the time. That’s all.”

Your eyes are feeling heavy and you yawn into your elbow before you answer, “Alright...if you’re sure.”

“But are you sure?” he quips, arching one brow.

You let out a long sigh and shrug your shoulders.

“Hey...you want me to tell you what’s it like kissing Nandor?”

He giggles and rolls his eyes, “You shouldn’t kiss and tell.”

“What’s the fun in that?!”

---

“Nandor! Hey--come here you big donkey!” Nadja hisses from the upstairs hallway.

She draws him over to your bedroom doorway and pokes her head inside, “Look at these adorable, baby humans, Nandor!”

You and Guillermo are asleep, curled up like shrimp side-by-side on your bed. Guillermo’s glasses are askew on his face and there’s a pool of drool on your pillow beneath your open mouth.

“Aren’t they precious?” Nadja croons. “I just want to chomp their little limbs right off.”

Nandor’s eyes flick from you to Guillermo and he stays in the doorway long after Nadja drifts back downstairs.

“Sweet dreams, my humans,” he whispers.

---

“Attention, everyone! I have some very exciting news to share this evening,” Nandor stands by the fireplace with Guillermo flanking him on his right brandishing a postcard-sized piece of mail in his hands.

You’re sitting sandwiched between Nadja and Laszlo on the long couch and Colin Robinson is sitting in an armchair with a newspaper folded on his lap. Nadja takes your hand in both of hers and holds it on her lap and you let your head fall on her shoulder. You’ve enjoyed falling into friendship with her even if you’re pretty sure she sometimes thinks of you as some kind of human baby doll to play with.

“Nadja!” Nandor exclaims with a stamp of his heavy-booted foot. “How many times do I tell you to leave my human alone?”

“Nandor!” you shout in annoyance. “Nadja’s like my vampire mommy. Leave her alone!”

Guillermo’s eyes are wide with anxiety and he flicks his gaze from his Master to Nadja.

“Yes, Nandor. I’m her dear mama,” Nadja taunts and makes a show of baring her fangs and clawing her fingers over your head as if she’s about to bite you. “Chill out, donkey brain.”

Nandor presses his lips together in annoyance. Rather than reply to Nadja he turns on you, “You’re being very disrespectful to me, human. And I’m noting it. It’s being noted!”

Maybe it’s Nadja’s presence that boosts your confidence or maybe it’s the memory of Guillermo telling you you’d be out of your depth with a vampire lover. But you want to prove that you can play on their level. You smile up at Nandor and bat your eyes.

“I guess you’ll have to punish me then…” you say with false innocence. You catch Guillermo’s expression in the corner of your eyes and he looks like he’s having a coronary.

“Oh, you saucy minx!” Nadja praises.

“Shall I get the cat’o’nine tails from the attic?” Laszlo pipes in.

Nandor looks totally unamused. He narrows his eyes at you with a storm cloud gathering on his brow.

“Enough foolishness! I have an announcement. Guillermo, the letter,” Nandor turns to his Familiar and takes the paper from his hands. “We have been invited…to a vampire rave!”

“Oh, goody!” Nadja claps her hands together.

“Drug blood!” Laszlo cries in exultation.

Even Colin Robinson perks up.

“What’s a vampire rave?” you ask smiling in curiosity. You’re getting excited just from the others’ enthusiasm.

Laszlo answers, “It’s like a human rave only with vampires. We feed off the humans and get high ourselves. It’s great fun.”

“Uh, okay, but we all remember what happened the last time you guys drank drug blood,” Guillermo’s warns.

“Oh, shut up, Guillermo!,” Nandor flicks his wrist at him. “It would have been fine if you were a little more careful.”

Guillermo looks like he’s about to make a retort but Nandor talks over him, “It’s tomorrow night at an abandoned Circuit City across town! We’re all going to have a great time! Except...for you.”

Nandor looks down his nose at you and you whine, “Me!? Why can’t I go?”

Nadja joins your cause, “Nandor, why can’t we take the little human with us? She will be fine. If any vampire tries to attack her she will do the hip-check on them.”

“You’ve disrespected me in front of the other roommates!” Nandor admonishes. “This is the consequence. You can’t come. You’re not invited.”

You stand, walking up to Nandor and poking your finger in his chest as you proclaim, “You’re being very mean to me. And I’m noting it!”

You storm out before he can respond. You hear Laszlo’s voice as you jog up the stairs.

“Are you going to let her get away with that kind of behavior!?”

Nandor holds out his hands helplessly, “She’s gone! She’s gotten away with it!”

---

“Human!” Nadja hisses a whisper as she creeps into your bedroom later that night. “Human! Wake up!”

You roll over in bed to find her looming above you. You can see her wickedly sharp fangs to full affect and you gulp down the instinct to shriek.

“Nadja?” your voice comes out full of gravel.

“Don’t worry my little roller warrior. I’m taking you to the vampire rave tomorrow! We can’t let that stupid piece of snake ruin our fun!”

---

A/N: Is my Nadja crush showing???

Tags-- let me know if you’d like to be added to the tags!

@festering-queen @glitterportrait @kandomeresbitch @scuzmunkie @redwoodshadows

#nandor the relentless #nandor #nandor x reader #nandor the relentless x reader #nandor the relentless imagine #nandor imagine #nandor the relentless fanfic #wwdits fanfic #wwdits #human x vampire #kayvan novak

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years

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176.

part 6 of that weird long bzoink survey

Have you ever mowed the lawn? >> A couple of times long ago.

Do you get an allowence? >> No, I get an income.

Where do your parents work? >> ---

Did you ever know your great grandparents? >> No.

What does family mean to you? >> It doesn’t really mean anything to me. For all intents and purposes, Sparrow is the only person that counts as “family” because once we’re married that’s literally what we’ll be, legally. I have no connections to the people I’m blood-related to, and I’m not even interested in having “family” at this point because it’s been such a source of bullshit for me. I don’t even want “in-laws” lmao because her mother is always like “you’re part of the faaaaamily” meehehfhhhhhhh fuck that.

What does friendship mean to you? >> I don’t know. I’ve always had a hard time really understanding what a friend is supposed to be for me, which is partly how I ended up in so many bad friendships. I would like to be in a mutually beneficial friendship, but I’m really not sure how they work, and no one I’ve asked about it seems to have had any insight except, you know, “don’t be a dick”-type advice, which is largely general.

What does true love mean to you? >> Love is just behaviour, for me. A way of treating people that shows compassion, appreciation, and interest. I don’t really know any other way to think of it than that.

What's your favorite band/group/singer? >> I don’t know, man, I have a million.

What's your favorite movie? >> The Fountain. Also, Interstellar. Also, Sunshine.

TV show? >> I like a lot of tv shows, I don’t really have any stand-out ones.

What radio station do you listen to most often? >> I don’t listen to radio.

Do you get snow days often where you live? >> Yes, unfortunately.

Do you try to run from things that are bothering you? Does it work? >> I try to distract myself from things that I can’t do anything about, or feelings that aren’t productive. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

Can you smell fear? >> I’m guessing not.

Would you ever pet a lion? >> If I had an opportunity and could guarantee not getting eaten, sure.

What's your favorite perfume? What's your favorite cologne? >> I like oils. Like from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.

What's your favorite overall smell? >> I don’t have one.

What's your favorite sign? (star, heart, rainbow, skull) >> I’m not sure.

Do you know how to play marbles? >> I didn’t know there was a specific game related to them.

Do you know how to play jacks? >> I do now, but when I had them as a child no one taught me that there was a game you’re supposed to play, so I kinda just fiddled around with them.

Do you know how to play poker? >> I’ve forgotten by now.

Tape or tacks? >> Depends.

Plastic, wood, or wire clothes hangers? >> I prefer wood, but they’re more expensive.

Do you have a light in your closet? >> There’s a light in the main bedroom’s closet.

Do you collect spare change lying around the house? >> No.

Do you like the taste of Tums? >> Not particularly, but it’s not terrible.

How about Pepto Bismol? >> I’ve never tasted it.

Do you have a fast or slow metabolism? >> I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s average.

Do you drink coffee? >> No.

Is the room you are in right now a mess? >> Not really.

When you slip and fall do you laugh it off or freak out? >> I definitely laugh. Especially if it seemed like it probably looked comical to an observer (which a lot of falls really do).

What is your definition of feaking out? >> I don’t know, there’s a lot of ways to freak out.

Have you ever played in a refridgerator box? >> Nope.

Do you still draw with chalk? >> Nah.

Have you ever finger painted? >> I don’t recall having done so, but who knows.

Have you ever had a pie in your face? >> No, thank god.

Ever bobbed for apples? >> No.

Ever hit a piniata? >> No.

Played pin the tail on the donkey? >> No.

Have you ever been on tv/the radio? >> I’ve been on television.

What's your favorite number? >> 9, or 19.

What's your favorite letter? >> V.

What's your favorite color? >> Gold.

(>0.0)><(0.0<) <- Is that cute to you? >> Sure. Looks like two Kirbys.

What's your favorite onomatopoeia? (Crash, bang, zoom, meow) >> Hmm... zoom is fun.

Have you ever been fishing? Is it really all that much fun? >> I’ve never been. I figure it’s probably more relaxing than fun, but I wouldn’t actually know.

Ever been minurature golfing? >> Yeah.

Are you a tennis geek? >> No.

Computer geek? >> I don’t really consider myself any kind of ‘geek’.

Video game geek? >> ---

Anime geek? >> ---

D&D geek? >> ---

Are you one of those people who watch Naruto? >> “One of those people”, lol. Okay. Anyway, no, I don’t watch it.

Do you agree that even Pokemon is better than naruto? >> I really don’t have an opinion.

Ninjas or dinosaurs? >> Hm.

Do you watch stand up comedy? >> Sometimes.

What's your favorite tv network? >> I don’t know. I don’t usually watch regular television.

Do you have one night that you could play on repeat forever and ever? >> Nah, I’m good.

Is there one dream you wish you could just live through once? >> Any of the ones I’ve had about Idris Elba, lmfao.

Do you think people with a British accent are hot? How about Australian? Irish? >> I’m really attracted to the cadence of some Irish accents. A person still has to be otherwise attractive to me for me to be attracted to them, though; the accent isn’t going to override everything else.

What is your ethnic background? >> As far as I know, Black American, Native American, and Haitian.

Do you eat ramen? >> Sure.

How about microwavable pot pies? >> Not so much anymore, but I do like them.

What's your favorite topping on popcorn? >> I like kettle corn.

Sweet or regular pickles? >> Regular. Every time I think I want a sweet pickle, just one slice is enough.

Have you ever tried pickled eggs? >> No.

What's the grossest thing you've ever tasted? >> Whatever it is, I don’t remember it now.

Have you ever lied about your age? >> No.

Do you look your age? >> Apparently not.

What age do you look? >> According to people I’ve polled in random places over the past few years, I seem to look somewhere between 21 and 27 to most.

What kind of dreams do you have most often? >> I don’t know, anymore.

Do you even dream a lot at all? >> I’m not sure. I don’t remember upon awakening. I guess this is the tradeoff -- I haven’t had sleep paralysis in months, but I also feel really distant from my dreamself now.

What is the name of your favorite teacher of all time? >> ---

What is your mom's name? Dad's? >> ---

Do you have any siblings? If so what are their names? >> ---

When was the last time you threw up? >> I don’t remember. Probably at Gardella’s like 6 months ago or whenever it was.

What's the worst part about throwing up? >> The anticipation, I guess.

What do you do for personal growth? >> *shrug*

Do you wear jewlery a lot? >> I’m usually wearing it.

Would you rather die burning or die freezing to death? >> I don’t know how either feels, so how could I really choose?

In other words do you prefer the hot or the cold? >> At this point in my life I prefer the heat, even with my sensitivity to it.

Do you really believe that in 2012 we're all gonna die? >> Oh, so that’s how old the survey is.

Where do you think the Mayans went? >> I’m sure there are anthropologists and paleontologists that have some idea about this.

Who do you think built the pyramids? >> The people that lived there at the time...? Is there evidence someone else did? Or just conspiracy theories, as always?

If you could read anyone's mind who would be the first person you'd read? >> No, thanks.

Who's your number one on your friends list? >> ---

Do you know what the word Mollycoddle means? >> Yeah.

Do you think it's cheating to put questions on here that aren't real Qs? >> No, I just delete them.

Have you ever been dizzy without spinning? >> Yeah.

Do you like to make yourself dizzy? >> No.

Do you agree that milk cold is the equivilent of butt warmth? >> What.

Do you believe that if you want something enough you'll get it? >> No, because there still needs to be some effort put in, not just really hard wishing. But I do think that desire can be motivation to put in that effort, so in that sense, sure, yeah.

Have you ever wished on a star? Did it ever come true? >> No.

Have you ever thrown a penny in a wishing well? >> No.

What was your favorite mall ride? (mini carousel, pony, helicopter) >> Hmm.

Do you take care of your cuticles? >> No, I just leave them alone (which is better than young!me, who used to pick at them constantly).

Do you even know what a cuticle is? >> Yeah.

Do you believe that everyone has a soul mate? >> No.

If you could keep any person in the world as your pet who would it be? >> LOL nah, I like my inworld pets best.

How would you treat them? >> How I’d treat a pet would be determined by both their desires and their limits, and my energy level lol.

Would you put them on a leash when you went out? >> No, because I think that’s kind of... uncouth. Doing that sort of thing in public, I mean. There are plenty of discreet ways to be kinky without having to like... advertise it like that.

How would you punish them when they were naughty? >> That depends on what was agreed upon.

Are these inappropriote questions? >> For many people, they certainly would be. I just happen to not care.

I'm sorry. Have you ever seen Scary Movie? >> I’ve seen #3, but that’s it.

Which is bigger? The Godfather or Star Wars? >> Er...

What are your views on the second Godfather movie? >> ---

It sucked I think. Anyway are you inbred? >> Well, no.

What's your favorite text word? (lol, wtf, brb, g2g) >> I don’t know.

PC or Mac? >> I use PC.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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violetsystems · 3 years

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#personal

I still haven't gotten my passport back yet. Old or new. I'm sure it's on the way but taking its sweet time. It hasn't been that big of a deal though it's a heavy inconvenience not being able to legally identify yourself. I have an expired driver's license and a lot of paperwork but that's not really good enough for most of Illinois. Work or leisure. I don't drink and don't really frequent bars anymore. I work for myself though I haven't paid myself yet this year. You have to have valid ID to be gainfully employed by someone else here. If I didn't have my life together already it would be more than annoying. I have health insurance still under a subsidy. I had my teeth cleaned earlier this week. No cavities. Mostly due to the electric toothbrush. I bought a waterpik right after. I've been so bored that I've started attacking problems I wanted to solve years ago. There's still drawers full of crap that needs to be thrown out. Lifetimes of shit do pile up if you are focused on other things like a dead end job or selfish personal relationships. I don't have either of those these days. So there really isn't any excuse for dirty drawers. I'm not planning to shit myself anytime soon to revisit the past. Which leaves the present and the future wide open. Much of that is dictated by my love of computers. I figured out how to mine finally. The open source way. I spent a lot of time in a terminal trying to apply the right definitions to scan my phone for the Pegasus spyware. I do think the results were negative so I'd rather not dwell on the past. Being a technological professional I have definitely spent a lot on electricity. That same idea of dirty drawers applies. You turn things on believing that they are ecologically friendly. It says so on the package. You don't dig enough to gather factual data to know it for sure. You get distracted by real life. Headlines. Drama. Nosy neighbors. The list goes on. And all the while, it just keeps bleeding out. I bought these smart plugs. Half of them monitor energy. The other half I didn't read the description close enough when I bought them. The ones that do measure electrical usage, I've set up in high power rooms. Both those and the low power rooms I can kill switch from my phone or whisper to my smart assistant to power off. I pay the electricity for the unit below me as well but that's more the agreement I have with my landlord. The biggest expense for me is always the AC and the heat. The appliances and everything else are just the icing on the cake. My rent has been affordable enough that with a little care and attention I can stay on budget. I never had that freedom or time to feel motivated enough to try. Now I know my razer laptop draws less than my rice cooker. Not that I'm the twelve hour rice in the rice cooker kind of guy. I have cooked chicken in it. What can I say I've had a lot of time on my hands. This happens when you can't identify yourself.

Sometimes you don't want to be identified. My past is so far behind me that it's a broken narrative. I've written about this narrative for years on this platform. I think it's a great place to write. This morning I saw a Tor books ad that looked like a regular blog post. Soon you'll be able to charge a subscription for your content if you wish. I'm not really here for that but I do think it's a great tool for creators. Bandcamp is still the easiest way for me to release music and shirts when I'm super fucking bored. But somehow five or six people always seem to support it when I do. I sold a shirt all the way out on the Ukraine once out of nowhere. I personally find it easier to mine and watch my electric bill right now then to fight to be seen as an artist. But situations do evolve over time under the right circumstances. And community is something I have never complained about Tumblr not having. Real life? Yes I have a lot of room to complain about the lack of community or respect for individual rights and will. But control over things is something I do have. And I've learned how to do that through setting boundaries for myself. I've learned a lot of those boundaries from being part of the culture down here. Unassuming. Anonymous. Hellbent on keeping it real. Chicago can sometimes be the same. It hasn't always been in the past. The fact that I'm completely disconnected from it is a large clue. The past. Not Chicago. I live here. Just like I do on Tumblr. That's a joke. But being able to write and stand my ground has given me a voice here and sometimes in the real world. Sometimes the wrong people listen. Or people get the wrong idea and make it more about them than me. But life goes on. If anything is true from what I wrote about a year ago, it's that I've both changed and stayed the same. There's things I can't escape about myself. Even if I can't prove to the state of Illinois I'm real enough to buy legal weed. Or how I've been fully vaccinated since April. Or how I can just leisurely set up a mining rig for research in my home office. How I can write here and challenge the status quo just by being the exception. Tumblr probably isn't going anywhere, anytime soon. I can't unlock any of my other social media from the past due to unfortunate circumstances related to identity and email. Not that I'm really complaining anymore. I was. As invisible as I am it feels more like a cloaking device than anything. Chicago in the news can be very dangerous and very wild. And yet, if anyone knows anything about me, I walk everywhere. Slow enough for people to follow you for blocks on end. Wanting to be seen. Worried about my safety. Worried about their safety because I left the house for once. Worried about everything. I'm not really that worried. Annoyed? Beyond annoyed. But as angry as I get, negativity does nothing for me to foster. It makes me look like every other secretly insecure white man here and just makes the turbulence around here worse.

If you have time enough to measure the difference in wattage between your rice cooker and your 6700xt gpu on full blast, you probably have time to pay attention to nuance. I pick up on the little things these days. I get that I share a porch with my neighbors and a cat. I get that I share a neighborhood too. I get that as a cis heterosexual white male I operate with privilege. It's not that hard to understand how to humble yourself in the presence of others. It's not hard to see how people have fought for rights harder than yourself. We're all fighting for the same thing. Freedom. I am understanding where I control the narrative and where I'm a guest. Where I don't have a say over other people's bodies, souls, or thoughts. I'm just as frightened by abuses or power and authority and yet they come as no surprise. I deleted everything Blizzard on my systems and am never looking back. I walk anywhere I choose freely with only a few annoyances. Jesus freaks and right wing antagonists are always up in my face trying to get a rise out of me. People think I'm a demon or haunted by some pirate ghosts. I have pretty good intuition and timing. I was a dj for like two decades. Beatmatching and pattern recognition. I get that I scare people and intimidate them just by breathing. Men are scary. Even to me. "Not all men!" Part of the reason people keep their distance from me is something I have to understand. I think we all have to understand who we are and what we can become when we live without care or intention. A lot of people just sleepwalk through this and blame the victims. They feel it's a weakness to share power. Sharing power is what cultivates freedom. But sharing power is almost pure chaos. It takes a lot of responsibility. And a lot of questioning of authority while asking the right questions and not just pinning a tail on a donkey. It's in the nuances and the people where freedom blossoms. Not in the polls or the pundits. We the people signifies something about America we ourselves have lost sight of. People buy their way into office at the behest of corporate and special interest money. The people are out there suffering while the profits guide the government. And it's really only the people who can turn this thing around. Here in Chicago, we know with our heart of hearts what to do. We have done it for so long. We survive together. We may not always like each other. We may feel like people are breathing down our necks and judging our every turn. But we always know where each other stands. We can stand to treat each other better. At least respecting that people have walls built up for protection more often than to hide something criminal. At least give people the space they need to grow. I have a lot of space to mine and play games. If I stay inside, it's so I don't rock the boat. If I go outside, just remember I have feelings too. We all could do better not to get caught up in them because we're overwhelmed by the bullshit. The bullshit we're in together. Respect is what is going to get us through. And I identify as down for the culture. As an ally you have my word. Love is the future. And the future is for everyone. <3 Tim

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johnhardinsawyer · 3 years

Text

Giving Your Life

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

11 / 22 / 20 – Christ the King Sunday

Mark 12:41-44

Psalm 116

“Giving Your Life”

(Pathways to Generosity – Part 4)

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”[1] I don’t always quote from the Tao Te Ching, but, when I do, this is the only quote I know from this ancient Chinese book of philosophy and religion. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Basically, you’ll never get where you need to go if you don’t take that first step.

Now, these words could be applied to a literal journey. Let’s say you’re going to hike the Appalachian Trail, or run a marathon, or a 5k, or even just try to get your steps in for the day. You’ll never make it if you never leave your house. This idea can also be applied to other things. You’ll never write a book unless you actually start writing it. You’ll never win a game if you don’t start playing it. You’ll never cook a meal – a Thanksgiving meal, or just dinner on some random Tuesday – if you don’t start cooking it. Once you start, though, at least you’ve started. And you have more of a chance of finishing than if you had never started at all.

A journey of a thousand miles – or whatever task you undertake in life – begins with a single step. And, by the end of that journey, there are always multiple single steps – steps that add up over time and end up making the journey what it is.

Over the course of the past four weeks, we have been reflecting, as a church, on what it means to be on a faith journey and the journey on a path of generosity. And, through mailings and stories and sermons and messages, we have been encouraging all of you to take the next step along what we’ve called “The Giving Path.” Now, some of you have been on this path for quite a long time – decades, perhaps. And, some of you are just starting out – taking a first step. All along the way, we have encouraged you to pray the prayer, “God, where do you want me to be in my giving?”

If we’re honest, we probably know that God always wants us to be farther along the path – closer to God, closer to our true selves as God intends us to be, more loving, more holy, more faithful, more generous. We might not be where we need to be or where God is calling us to be, but our life-long journey with God along the pathway of faith and the giving path begins with just a single step and continues – throughout your life, and mine – with the next step and the next step. . . These steps add up over time – day by day, moment by moment, prayer by prayer, song by song, gift by gift.

I don’t know where the journey began for the woman in today’s story from the Gospel of Mark – where it was that she took her first step – but I do know that her steps lead her to a place where Jesus sees her.

By the time today’s reading comes along, Jesus has entered the city of Jerusalem on a donkey with people cheering and waving palm branches. And every day, he and his disciples arrive at the Temple – a grand place with porticoes and columns, a gigantic altar, and a large building where the people believe God lives. The festival of the Passover is drawing near, so the city and the Temple are particularly crowded with people from all over the place.

The Temple, in Jesus’ day, had certain places where only men were allowed and places where women were allowed, and places where men and women could walk along next to one another or pass one another on their way to somewhere else. One of these places was a room called the treasury. At one point in the history of the Temple, the treasury was the place where all of the silver and gold vessels used for worship were kept. Later, it was used to store grain for the priests. In today’s story, the treasury is a place where people come to give money – to make offerings to God, to support the Temple, and its priests.

Jesus is sitting there – across from the treasury – watching the people come and go as they offer their gifts. Some of them are bringing a lot of money. This isn’t a bad thing, just so you know. Jesus does not say anything bad about their generosity. But then Jesus sees a woman arrive at the treasury. The text describes her as a “poor widow.” In the original language, she is described as being “extremely poor,”[2] basically a beggar. There are likely multiple reasons why she is so poor – a dead husband who left her nothing to live on, no living relatives to take care of her, no social structure in place for her. It should be noted, that right before today’s passage, Jesus condemns the professional religious ruling authorities who “devour widows houses” (Mark 12:40) – exploiting the weak and the helpless. Alas, the lack of a social safety net is not a new thing.

And yet, this extremely poor woman, seen as weak and helpless by the standards of the world, takes out “two small copper coins, which are worth a penny” (12:42) – one sixty-fourth of a laborer’s daily wage – and she puts the coins into the treasury.

If the story were to stop right here, this tiny act might escape notice. But Jesus sees the woman’s gift and elevates it – elevates her – right along with it. Eugene Peterson translates what happens next in this way:

“The truth is,” Jesus tells his disciples – tells us – “that this poor widow gave more to the collection than all the others put together. All the others gave what they’ll never miss; [but] she gave extravagantly what she couldn’t afford—she gave her all.”[3]

In the original language, this last part reads, “She gave her way of life” or, put more simply, “She gave her life.”[4]

When John Calvin wrote about this passage, he said,

This widow must have been a person of no ordinary piety, who, rather than come empty into the presence of God, chose to part with her own living. And our Lord applauds this sincerity, because forgetting herself she wished to testify that she and all that she possessed belonged to God.[5]

Most of us have met someone who will forget their own needs in order to give of themselves to others. Sometimes, people like this have a lot of money. Oftentimes, though, they don’t. They will give all of what they have – time, energy, money. . . These people are not ordinary, even though they might view their own generosity as ordinary to them. It’s just the way they live. It’s just who they are. And, if you ask them, they’ll always say something like, “It’s good to give. I love to give. But I’m worried that I’m still not giving enough.”

What does it take to have a mindset like this? Actually, the question should rather be, what does it take to have a heart like this – a heart that is generous to a fault, generous to the point of gaining the admiration of Jesus? I guess I could lay out some impossible standards for you this morning – standards that you and I could never live up to. But I think it would be more helpful to suggest that there are some simple practices, steps for us to adopt – some are spiritual steps, some are practical steps. After all, you don’t go on a thousand-mile journey in a one-time giant leap. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. . . Giving your life begins with a single step.

Here is a spiritual step: it all starts with gratitude and putting that gratitude into practice. These pandemic days can be so hard, so wearing and tearing on us. But there are still moments of life and light and love that we can celebrate with a spirit of thanksgiving. So, in this week of a Thanksgiving unlike any other we have ever celebrated, what if you were to start a spiritual practice of giving thanks every day – beginning or ending your day by saying what you are grateful for. . . writing it down, telling a loved-one? By the time next Thanksgiving rolls around – which it surely will, Lord willing – you will be even more grateful. You might even have a long list of blessings that are signs of God’s loving presence in your life.

So, that is a spiritual step. Here is a practical step: when you think about your giving to the church, we are encouraging you this year to move toward becoming a percentage giver – offering a percentage of your livelihood. The widow in today’s story offers the impossible example of giving 100%. But, what if a thousand-mile journey begins with 1%, or 3%, or 5%, or 10%? Taking the steps to move toward greater generosity could just mean moving, little by little, more and more down the Giving Path each year.

Real stewardship – real generosity – is a way of life that comes from our internal relationship with God that is lived out in the world – combining the gratitude in our hearts with the concrete act of offering our gifts, whatever they may be. It all adds up – step by step, gift by gift.

I’ll close with this –

Many of you who live in the Bedford and Manchester area may have been aware of an encampment of people who are experiencing homelessness that was dismantled this past week on the lawn of the state courthouse in Manchester. At the start of the week, when I visited the camp, there were close to 200 people living in tents, huddled together against the cold. Over the course of the week, temporary housing was found for some of these people, but on Friday, trucks came and removed the remaining tents. While some of the residents of the camp were away for the day at work, their meager belongings were thrown away in bags marked “Hazardous Materials.”

For our part at BPC, our Mission Committee is reaching out to local organizations and individuals who are actively involved in helping those who are experiencing homelessness. But, for my own part, when I visited the camp, the complex problems of no affordable housing, few social services, addiction, mental illness, ongoing medical conditions, and the cold New Hampshire weather were all just too much to bear.

What could I do? What could you do? In the interest of caring for the least of these, would I give my life? Would you?

O God, where do you want us to be in our giving?

There is hope – even for us – my friends: a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Will you take that step?

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

--------

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_journey_of_a_thousand_miles_begins_with_a_single_step.

[2] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979.) 728.

[3] Eugene Peterson, The Message (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2002) Mark 12:43-44.

[4] Walter Bauer, 141.

[5] John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries – Vol. XVII – Harmony of Matthew, Mark, and Luke (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2009) 114.

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jflashandclash · 7 years

Text

Attrition of Peace

Eighteen: Kalypso

The Return of the Paxmobile

(or: Dananananana Dnananana Paxmobile!)

Everyone was laughing as they ran out of the club. Pax scrambled to pull his shirt back on. Axel surprised her and Euna with a quick front flip as they ran. He laughed like a maniac and Kally realized Merry’s power had affected more than the Heroes of Olympus.

The outside cold snapped Kally more into reality. The gleeful tears that streaked down her cheeks now turned to trails of ice. She’d been in a sound booth tucked into one of the walls with protective Plexiglas. Apparently, it wasn’t uncommon for the merfolk to splash the electronics whenever they disliked a song so everything had been waterproofed. Also effective for, In Case of Percy Jackson. Despite that, Merry had taken over the music halfway through with her jacket, allowing Kally to dance in the isolation of her box without any responsibilities.

“Okay, Merry, I owe you an apology,” Axel admitted. “I didn’t think whatever idea you had was going to work. I mean… the Diet Cokes?”

“The sacrifice to Dad,” Merry giggled. “I ain’t that powerful.” Calex carried her bridal style as they ran down the alleyway. She kept throwing her head back and forth, like she was still dancing to the music, making it as difficult for Calex to carry her as possible.[1]

Merry had collapsed in the club. That party had completely drained her. Kally had seen Merry talk her way out of tons of exercising in gym class and wasn’t used to Merry looking so exhausted. Now, she kept giggling nonsensically, waving her fingers haphazardly to a beat no one could hear, nuzzling up against Calex’s chest, and mumbling the words to Bollywood songs. The grin on her face was absolutely silly and contagious.

“You two—” Merry flicked her hand at Pax and Axel, making Kally duck to avoid being struck. “—are great at the whole war thing, but you’re not very god at peace, are you two?”

Pax laughed and stated, “No, all we’ve ever known is violence,” in the least comforting manner he could.

The image of Pax’s bedroom fluttered to the surface of Kally’s memory—the corner with the chains, clubs, and whips. All the mirth flushed out of her. Instead, she thought about laying beside Pax on his bed, and about what Pax must have done to make Frank flustered the other day. Did other demigods have this problem? Worrying about their traumatized not-boyfriends making out with unwary praetors?

“Merry, that was brilliant, though you’re a mad woman,” Calex said, interrupting Kally’s thoughts on her muddled emotions.

They turned out of the alley onto the main street. Axel slowed them to normal walking pace to draw less attention. The sky was dark now—as dark, Kally figured, as the sky could get in Brooklyn. It gleamed with an ominous orange haze that washed out most of the stars, like Hephaestus was hammering away new New York Part II to impress Athena somewhere nearby.

The streets were busy with the night crowd. Some people made Kally happy that Euna had Backbiter and that someone as intimidating as Axel was leading them.

Now that they’d left the energy of the club and were walking, Kally could feel herself shake in the cold. Merry was the only one with a real jacket in the group. Calex’s beanie and scarf couldn’t have kept him that much warmer.

“Why did you need me to shoot Percy?” Calex asked.

Merry giggled. “Oh, that wasn’t for the plan. I just thought Pax would get a kick out of seeing Percy fall in love with Jason.”

Calex’s jaw dropped. Axel choked on a laugh. Pax burst into one. Even Euna cracked a half-smile, though Kally thought Euna’s grin might have been in reaction to her own musings due to the distant glint in her eyes.

“You had me shoot at the SON OF POSEIDON because this idiotic block might get ‘a kick out of it?!?’” he demanded.

“Yes.”

“M-Merry, you’re am-mazing,” Pax said, wiping happy tears from his eyes. “I g-give you 10 out of 10 on app-preciating your efforts—HUNNIE! BALLER!”

Before Calex could drop Merry on the sidewalk or toss her into Pax to knock both of them over, a shriek erupted from a passing group of girls in high heels and boys in button downs. “Ew! Rats!”

Two furry creatures darted through their prancing feet and, upon reaching Pax’s legs, scampered up his pants. Once they reached his belt, they burrowed under his shirt, incurring several shouts of glee and pain.

“Ow—ow! Ha ha! Ow! Guys—I missed you—aye! Who fixed you up, Hunnie?!” he asked.

Axel smiled. Then his eyes widened. “Wait—Ajax, if they’re here—”

“We can have weasel death battles again!” Pax exclaimed, and hugged a squirming bulge along his waist.

“That… too, but it means—”

“That means the Paxmobile is nearby!” Pax scrambled to withdraw the two weasels from his shirt. As he pulled them out, they wriggled and bit as his arms. “Ow—ow—go forth my—ow—pretties! F-find us our mobile home!”

Kally wasn’t sure how much time passed before Sam Datta’s taxi-van stopped. They’d tried walking after Hunnie and Baller for ten minutes before calling Sam, all of them shaking from the cold and exhausted.

Sam was a little skeptical about letting a pair of weasels direct their movement, but the skepticism turned to wonder when Pax handed him a pocket full of denari and drachma.

“Is this… pirate edition Monopoly money?” he asked. He glanced in concern to where Merry, Calex, and Euna had immediately collapsed in the back seats. Merry was out after a delirious greeting, “vanakkam.[2]”

“It’s what Frank and Jason had in their pockets,” Pax said, hopping in the passenger seat. “So, they’re probably made out of gold. Can you imagine if New Rome was using monopoly money though?” Pax shook his head. “We could use inflation to destroy their economy. Mu ha ha.”

Sam shrugged. “That credit card from earlier didn’t bounce yet. Did you guys beat up her stalker and their cavalry reinforcements?” He pointed a thumb at Kally.

Kally frowned. She wished that wasn’t the story they’d gone with. She sat in the middle with Axel.

“We showed them how to party,” Merry sleepily murmured from the back.

Sam shook his head. Despite the late hour, his eyes were still lit up with excitement. “Hey man, I want details. I’m not driving you places for monopoly money and Mr. Stoic’s angry glare. Now, before I hear how you kicked mythological ass, I’m not going to get dive bombed by like, a dragon, this time, am I?”

Kally thought about Festus, the bronze dragon that Leo had.

“No,” Axel said with firm confidence.

At the same time, Pax said, “Possibly.”

Sam’s eyes sparkled more. “Ah, awesome. Well, I hope you can make sense of my biostat notes, because you’re going to help me study between story time.”

Pax sat in the front to watch the weasels dash across the dashboard and verbalize their movement to Sam. Axel sat up, alert, and vigilantly scanned the horizon.

Kally wanted to stay awake, to make sure they didn’t derail too far from Camp Half-Blood to find the Paxmobile, though it would be nice to have their own transportation. Honestly though, Kally didn’t know if they were going away from Camp Half-Blood, considering her lack of knowledge about the geography of New York.

Apparently, something about the weasels’ dance across the dashboard was mesmerizing enough for Kally to nod off. When she felt the car roll to a stop, she could smell the cloy mix of spicy chocolate and sweat in her nostrils. Her face and right arm felt toasty despite the cold of the van. Kally glanced up, looking past a torn and bloody Camp Jupiter shirt to where Axel was staring out the window.

Her face was pressed against Axel’s chest and his arm was loosely around her shoulder. When he noticed her wake up, he gave her a soft smile, ruffled her hair, and removed his arm.

Kally’s face felt even toastier.

For a disorienting moment, Kally had a weird flashback to her brother, John. Before he’d became a total jerk, when Kally was really little, he used to help carry her inside the house whenever she fell asleep on long car rides. Sometimes, she’d pretend to have fallen asleep, just so John would complain about how heavy she was while tossing her over one shoulder.

The memory faded when Axel startled and shouted, “STOP!”

Sleepy grumbles erupted from the back.

They squeaked to a sharp halt. From the ease of the break, they couldn’t have been going that fast. From what Kally could see in the scattered street lamps, they were in a suburban neighborhood, with concrete sidewalk forming a horseshoe in a cul-de-sac. They’d braked at the entrance of the cul-de-sac.

The houses were nice, middle-income family homes, bigger than Kally’s house, but she was used to her friends’ houses being bigger. Each had about an acre of land, with minor landscaping and a few scattered trees.

There wasn’t anything that should have made Axel shout for them to stop. Except maybe Hunnie and Baller. They were going nuts and doing flips. One scratched at the front windshield while the other sprinted in circles around the dashboard.

“Unicorn or something?” Sam asked, ducking his head back and forth like he might see something.

Axel pointed to the last house in the cul-de-sac.

Amidst the overgrown grass of that last house, there was indeed a unicorn grazing in the grass. Kally was relieved to see the sputtering rainbow sparkles erupt out of the red and black stallion ahead. Vinyl was okay and happily munching on the lawn.

A white, dented pharmaceutical van was parked in the house’s narrow parking lot.

Kally hoped that was their Paxmobile, and not Lapis and Hiro’s. But she could see the faintest hint of paint on the side, from where the Pax brothers had scribbled Pax Extraction Team. A weird nostalgia hit her as she thought about playing card games with Pax’s holographic deck in the back.

A golden donkey poked its head out from the other side of the Paxmobile: Lucius the Golden Ass.

“That’s just a deer du—oh.” Sam’s eyes went wide. “Oh, man, are most deer secretly unicorns? Have I hit a unicorn with my car before without even knowing it?”

He edged the taxi forward at a slow roll.

Axel shot forward and grabbed Sam’s shoulder. “I said stop.”

The taxi halted again. “Are unicorns deadly?” Sam asked, wide-eyed.

“Very,” Pax said absently. “I heard they eat human livers.” He sat rigidly in the passenger seat, leaning forward slightly. He bounced slightly back and forth in a motion recognized as his I want to hop but I’m sitting.

“Krios and Luke only told you that so you’d stop asking for one,” Axel said. His normal sigh didn’t follow. Instead, his gaze was steady. The Mist fluttered for a moment, and Kally could see his pupils had widened, leaving a thin rim of his iris, like a cat ready to pounce.

“There’s a rune barrier around that house,” he said. Kally didn’t see anything, but she assumed this was a true sight thing.

“Like..?” Pax asked.

“A child of Hecate rune barrier,” Axel clarified.

Pax went silent. Kally thought he might break his seat if he bounced anymore. She could imagine the internal, chibi version of Pax clawing at his seatbelt, squealing, “Release me!”

Something small and ghostly darted from under the Paxmobile, gliding bouncily towards their taxi, like the most menacing of specter bunnies.

One of the weasels on the dashboard made a loud squeak and phased through the windshield. Kally blinked, watching as the remaining one bit and attacked the glass in attempt to follow after.

“Wow! Your ferret can—”

The weasel left in the car shrieked at Sam before continuing to attack the glass.

“Weasel,” Pax corrected absently. He looked stunned as he watched their weasel scamper up and intercept the approaching white figure.

“Baller does that sometimes,” Axel said. His posture was rigid. He absently grabbed at his belt, where a weapon should have been. This was the tensest Kally had seen him since he interacted with Aphrodite. “Kally, wake up the others. Everybody needs to get out.”

As soon as the doors opened, Hunnie darted off to join Baller in attacking that floating spectral thing. Once Pax remembered to remove his seatbelt, he bolted after them. Merry wouldn’t budge. Calex, sleepily, had to carry her out. None of them wanted to wake up Euna. They took Joey’s old piece of advice about throwing things at her, mostly crumbled up pieces of Sam’s notebook. Fortunately, she didn’t assault any of them on waking. She just glared.

Sam said he’d wait at the bottom of the cul-de-sac until he heard everything was okay. He hefted up his biostats book and cracked it open for some studying. “Unicorns and golden donkeys make the perfect backdrop for studying. Besides, knowing my luck, you’ll make the house explode or something.” He made it sound like that really would be lucky. Kally was starting to wonder what this guy did on weekends, other than pick up random kids with stolen credit cards and take them to strange houses by weasel direction.

As they walked up the small incline of the sidewalk, towards the house, Axel seemed deaf to Calex’s questions about where they were and what they were doing and why they weren’t at Camp Half-Blood yet. Though his questions quieted to glee at seeing Vinyl in the yard.

Ahead of them, Pax reached the three battling creatures and dropped onto the pavement, crying, “Nietz! Nietz!” Kally thought neats was a weird thing to call when being overrun by—

“Oh gods,” Calex groaned, “Are there really three of those damned things?”

When she got close enough, Kally recognize the small specter to be another weasel, this one albino. The three weasels decided Pax’s body was a battle ground, bounding over his limbs, hiding, and ambushing one another.

Tears streamed down Pax’s cheeks as he scrambled to snatch up the albino weasel. “Axel—Axel, it’s Nietz! Do—do you think—”

They were at the house’s property line when Axel knelt down. He touched a part of the concrete, and a green rune appeared on the ground, glowing dimly. “It’s an alarm ward,” he said absently. He clenched his jaw.

The three weasels bound away from Pax to scamper around Axel’s legs. He reached down to pet the white weasel, who dropped onto its back and curled to bite and scratch his fingers. “Hey Nietzsche,” he greeted with a soft smile. He stood up, inhaled shakily, and said, “Whoever lives in that house will already know we’re here. Let’s check to see if everything is in the van. I want to be armed. Just in case.”

Thanks for reading :D Are you ready to meet the new Seventh Traitor of Olympus?

[1] My niece does this when you carry her and it is terrifying since you never know when she’ll drive to dive out of your arms.

[2] Greeting in Tamil.

#Traitors of Olympus #PJO #Hoo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #fanfiction #writing #Axel #Pax #Calex #Kally #Merry #Euna #Nietzsche #Baller #Hunnie #Now you have the Triple W team back together!

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footbaliimagines · 7 years

Text

surprise (an antoine griezmann imagine)

You’ve always been a terrible liar.

You could never get away with lying to teachers about homework, or come up with white lies on the spot to get you out of sticky situations. More importantly, you couldn’t lie to Antoine about your plans for his birthday.

Which consisted of a surprise party and the biggest chocolate cake you’ve ever seen, despite you telling him that you thought maybe you could go out for dinner at the Italian place you knew he loved. Some of the guys from Atletico had approached you with ideas of what to do for his birthday, and as soon as Saul had suggested a surprise party, you’d leapt off your chair and decided adamantly that it just had to happen.

(Cue 2 months of sneakily buying decorations and presents and brushing Antoine off when he suggested maybe taking a helicopter to Venice to celebrate for the weekend, just the two of you.)

(God, saying no to that had been difficult.)

When his birthday morning arrives, you lie straight through your teeth that his present hadn’t arrived in time. It’s a good job he has his back to you and is too busy buttering his toast to notice the smile tugging on your lips, and he simply kisses you in response and asks, what’s the need for presents in the first place when I have you right here with me?

(He’s far too lovely and far too romantic, and you could honestly cry.)

Then, when he tells you he fancies heading down to Buen Retiro Park for the afternoon, maybe getting lunch and some cocktails at that cute boutique in the city, you have to shake your head violently. “I thought maybe we could just spend the day here. I could make you a cake!” You warble.

He frowns initially, mind flashing back to the last time you attempted- and subsequently failed to- bake cupcakes, the state of the kitchen and the burning smell that had lingered in your oven for weeks afterwards. “Maybe avoid the baking stuff, babe.” He laughs lightly, before pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m going to head upstairs and ring my Mum. I’ll be back in a bit, mon amour.”

You let him go upstairs, with his mate cup in one hand and toast in the other, and you’re pretty sure the guilt washing over you nearly pushes you over the edge.

You thought practice would make perfect.

But every time you’re forced to lie again, to tell him that dammit, you swore you’d ordered a proper cake! or to suggest staying in watching a film instead of going out for dinner, it feels more and more disingenuous. You’re petrified that your cover is going to get blown any time soon.

“Are you sure you don’t want to head out for dinner?” He asks.

It’s 5 o’clock now, and Antoine’s head is in your lap, you’re watching some reality show and running your fingers through his hair. “Hmmm.” You hum, fixing your gaze on the television. “Would you rather not just stay in?”

“Well, um, not really.” He wrinkles his nose up. “I kind of wanted to go out for dinner.”

“Fine. I guess we could.” You sigh dramatically. “What about that Italian place? The one we went to the other month?”

(It’s a tiny, dimly lit restaurant with a menu the size of your hand and a spaghetti Bolognese that made you both vomit for days after. The look on his face as he attempts to grimace a smile is so perfect and so close to causing you to blow your cover that you fake a cough before he gets suspicious.)

He opens his mouth to reply but silence ensues, and then sits up before frowning. You ask him in mock concern, “Are you okay? You look a bit…annoyed.”

He looks at you tellingly, before exhaling and shaking his head. “You know what- and I really didn’t want to actually have to say something- but I am annoyed. It’s my birthday and I thought that maybe you’d have planned something a bit more, you know, special? Instead we haven’t moved all day and now you’re taking me to that Italian place- I appreciate the gesture more than you know, but seriously? I had to spend the whole day with my head in the toilet after we ate there last time! And I thought that maybe we’d do more, get lunch, go out for drinks. Plus, you’re not the kind of person to turn down drinking alcohol before noon.”

“That’s kind of hurtful, you know.” You let your voice wobble.

Antoine’s face falls and guilt instantly washes over his eyes.

(Move over, Meryl Streep. You were the best god damn actress in the world.)

“Look, I’m sorry. Maybe it’s the stress, or nerves because of our Champions League fixture, or whatever. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He rushes forward, taking your hands in his. “I’m sorry. Should we leave soon, then? For the Italian?”

“I mean, if you even want to leave-“

“Of course I do.” He picks up your hand. “I would go anywhere for you.” Antoine kisses your knuckles and then reaches forward to press a light kiss to your lips. “I’ll go and get dressed and then I can call a cab. Again, I’m sorry.”

He looks genuinely apologetic and again- again- you’re so close to blowing your cover. He’s too sweet and it looks like he’s seriously flustered after voicing his thinly veiled annoyance. You pull out your phone and go to text Fernando. We’re leaving in 5!!!! I repeat, sunflower is officially leaving the garden in 5!!!!! WE’LL BE THERE IN T MINUS 15 MINUTES!!!!

(The cheesy nicknames were all your idea, that you were proud to admit.)

It’s a mild, spring night, and the sun is only just setting. He’s in his best jeans and even combed his hair for this, and you link his arm as you both walk down the street. “This isn’t the Italian place.” He frowns.

You hook your hand more firmly into the crook of his elbow. “Is it not? I swear I told the taxi driver the right address.”

“No, I’d remember.” He shakes his head, frowning. “Where even are we?”

“By the Italian place, right?”

“Babe, I swear that’s not around here. Aren’t we closer to Fernando’s?”

“Hm. Weird.” You reply shortly. “Hey, um, Antoine?”

“Yeah?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if I asked you to put on a blindfold right now, right here, what would you think?”

“I’d probably ask you to save it for somewhere more private.”

“Behave.” You giggle. “Seriously, though?”

“I’d probably think something along the lines of, why the fuck is my girlfriend such a creep?”

“Ha ha ha.” You roll your eyes, pulling out a piece of red fabric- it’s one of your headbands, you notice- and gesturing to it. “Can I?”

“What is going on?”

He lets you tie it around his face (but not before you manage to pull his hair and make him yelp in pain about three dozen times) and there’s a grin, a nervous, excited one, creeping onto his face. It’s almost as if he knows what’s about to come. “I swear to God, if you let me trip up-“

You laugh, reaching for his hand and pulling out your phone. “Hold my hand.”

Blindfold on!!!!! T minus 5 minutes!!!!!

It’s a short, brisk walk from where you’re currently stood to Fernando’s house, and you manage to keep babbling at a ridiculously high noise level to hide the sounds of opening his front gate and pushing open the front door. “Can I take my blindfold off, now?”

(He’s been asking you this non stop, and he reminds you of Donkey when Shrek and Fiona are trying to get to the Kingdom of Far Far Away.)

“Patience is a virtue. Shh.”

It’s dark and unusually quiet in Fernando’s house, and you let out an excited squeal when you see the outlines of the decorations hung around his shadowy living room. You find yourself gripping his hand even tighter, zoning out from the relentless questions he was asking. What are we doing, where are we going, babe if you’re trying to murder me I swear I can scream louder than you, is this for my birthday, why are we inside now, what’s going on?

“Surprise!”

“Merde!” He hisses, and you feel him leap away from your side as the lights flicker on.

You tug the blindfold off his face and the lights flicker on. There are balloons, of every single colour you can think of (Antoine had always been adamant that he didn’t have a favourite colour), crowding around Fernando’s living room, a playlist made specially by Koke and Filipe featuring an array of songs (from current songs Antoine liked to cringey French songs from his childhood to early noughties R&B) and fairy lights strung around the ceiling that Fernando later informs you, took him 3 and a half hours to pin up.

All of your friends are grinning at you and you glance quickly at him. His eyes are wide and he’s beaming and you feel your heart swell.

(Best surprise birthday party ever.)

The night eventually draws to an end, and it’s now way past 1.

It’s only you, Antoine, Fernando and his wife left now, and the latter two have headed to the kitchen to get started with the washing up. It’s still warm enough outside for the patio doors to remain open, and Antoine approaches you. You sip on your drink, humming softly, pleased not only with how smoothly the night has gone but also with how much Antoine seems to have enjoyed it.

He’s spent the better part of the last 5 hours grinning from ear to ear, taking photos and laughing, and you wish you could have taken a photograph of the moment when all of your friends had jumped out and yelled surprise. You’re smiling again, as you do every time you think of him, when he hugs you from behind, pressing his chin into your shoulder. “Thank you. So, so much.” Antoine murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “It meant the world.”

“You mean the world.” You reply, grasping his hands which were wrapped around your waist and letting your head back to lean against his firm chest. “I hope you liked it.”

“Liked it? Babe, this has the best birthday ever.” He begins to babble.

You grin and turn around to face him..

He’s so excited, so bubbly and it’s just so, so, Antoine, being this full of energy despite the time, and you hold his face between your hands. “I’m sorry for having to act like a bitch all day. It was so hard.”

“You were a bloody good actress, I must say.”

You smile and kiss him again.

(And this time, you weren’t acting.)

A.N.: i wrote this for grizi’s birthday which i’m just about (by like 2 hours) posting in time!!! my update schedule has kind of been warped and messed up as of late and i have about 30 pending requests that i’ll write over the next week or so!!! as per please give me feedback or come and say hi here or feel free to have a look at my masterlist!!!

thank you for everything as always!! millie xx

#my writing #antoine griezmann #antoine griezmann imagine #antoine griezmann fanfiction #antoine griezmann fic #antoine griezmann fanfic #football #football one shot #football imagine #footballer imagine #football fanfiction #footballer one shot

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embracetheapocalypsewithme · 7 years

Text

Embracing the Apocalypse, Part 18: Shards of Glass

Be forewarned, this chapter got really dark. I wasn’t planning on going this angst-y, but I assure you all that we’ll come back to the light eventually.

Summary: Rebecca tries to deal with life in the Sanctuary without Negan, but it seems as though not everyone got the memo that they are no longer an item...

Word Count: 2,789

Content Warnings (or selling points?): Smut, Negan, Negan being Negan, language, violence, drama, angst, and hospitals. (This chapter is pretty rough)

Part 1: The Tale of Thelma Facefuck

Part 2: What’s Up, Doc?

Part 3: A Successful Job Interview Begins with a Firm Handshake and Ends with a Salty Surprise

Part 4: A Crack in Everything

Part 5: Sorting Duty Sucks

Part 6: A Faint Whiff of Bullshit in the Air

Part 7: Turn and Face the Strange

Part 8: Poor Life Choices

Part 9: In Which Negan is a Total Jerk

Part 10: No Plan

Part 11: Negan Settles Rebecca’s Hash

Part 12: I know Where That Hand Has Been, Negan

Part 13: Gimme Danger

Part 14: The Loneliest Hours of the Morning

Part 15: Well, Fuck You Too, Kitty!

Part 16: That Escalated Quickly

Part 17: Well Fuck Me Gently with a Chainsaw

Part 18: Shards of Glass

Part 19: Donkey Heaven

Tag List Roll Call: @negans-network @unicorn-blood-splatter @opheliadawnwalker3 @lucifers-trash-stash @thedeadwalks @negans-dirty-girl @ali-pennell @grab-my-boner

Read on A03 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8807527/chapters/22104002

Part 18: Shards of Glass

The week following Rebecca’s return to the Sanctuary was consumed with meetings with the Scavengers to discuss future missions and priorities. The focus had shifted from medical supplies in favour of building supplies and gardening implements. It seemed as though the name of the game was moving the Sanctuary more toward being internally sustainable, rather than a community based solely on scavenging the remaining scraps of a quickly dying world. If they did the job well, Rebecca supposed that they would eventually work themselves out of a job.

The remainder of her time was spent desperately trying to avoid Negan while simultaneously not being able to keep thoughts of him at bay. So far, she had been successful in her first priority. She hadn’t seen Negan at all since returning from the road.

Her nightmares had become more disturbing and constant. Each night found her waking with a start in the darkness of her room, drenched in sweat, unsure of what was real anymore. She began to fear sleep, opting instead to spend her time wandering the fenced-in perimeter of the building into the wee hours of the morning. The night air helped to clear her head and the sounds of the crickets calmed her nerves.

As her sleepless days and nights wore on, Rebecca’s body began to drain of its energy and dark circles appeared under her eyes. She was falling apart from stress and lack of sleep. Chris had asked her several times during their meetings if she was feeling ill. His face was still mostly emotionless, but there was a slight look of concern in his eyes. For a man as stoic as him, this gesture could almost be classified as a dramatic outburst. She assured him that she was fine, and was just tired. She had almost convinced herself of this lie.

On her eighth day back in the building, Rebecca decided to once again to forsake sleep and to leave the confines of her dorm room in order to be outside. Her wrist watch said that it was 11:22pm. As she exited her room, locking the door behind her, she noted that the building was eerily quiet. It was as if the inhabitants of the Sanctuary were collectively holding their breath in anticipation of a storm or a natural disaster.

As she made her way down the stairs to the main floor, she passed a man heading in the opposite direction. She smiled weakly and offered him a greeting.

“Fuck off, cunt,” came the cold reply of the man, hate burning in his eyes.

Normally quick with a sassy quip, Rebecca found herself at a loss for words. She continued down the stairs utterly baffled at the man’s sudden hostility. As she neared the door that lead outside to the building’s main courtyard she spied a group of women standing together and talking. She neared them and their conversation stopped abruptly. The women stared at her out of the corners of their eyes, and lowered their voices to whispers.

It was all too bizarre for Rebecca, who hastily pushed the heavy steel door that lead outside open, the cool air hitting her face. She stood for a moment illuminated in the glow emanating from the building’s windows and spilling onto the ground. The scent of flowers hung in the air, mingling with the smell of dirt and ozone. Maybe there was a storm coming after all.

She turned to the left, choosing to walk to her favourite section of the building’s exterior, a large tree that stood near the fence. She liked to sit under its branches and pretend that she still lived in the forest, rather than the dreary, grey building. Turning around a corner, she strode toward the tree and sat and inhaled deeply, settling into the soft grass, her back against the trunk.

For a moment, she wished that she had brought some of the pot that Negan had gifted her after they had been caught together by Julie the first time. That meeting seemed so long ago, like another life, but she was startled to realize that it had been less than two weeks since that time. Her eyes closed and she tilted her head back so that it rested against the rough bark of the tree. Sitting under the canopy of branches was one of the few moments of her day where she truly felt content and in control.

“Hey, bitch!” the voice that came from directly in front of her was choked with the sound of hatred.

Rebecca’s eyes sprang open as she brought her head back down just in time to avoid being struck by a glass bottle that smashed against the tree trunk just above her, raining shards all around. Her eyes focused on an older man with several days’ worth of stubble encircling his mouth standing a few feet away from her.

“What the fuck!” she cried, staggering to her feet.

Before she could move toward the man, rough hands grabbed her from behind, wrapping themselves around her waist. She struggled against the unseen attacker’s grip, but it was too strong for her to escape. The best she could do was to land a few kicks behind her, but they seemed to do little damage.

“Keep this up and you’ll regret it, you bitch,” she felt the hot, sour breath against her ear as the man spoke. The smell of whisky invaded her nostrils as the man who had thrown the bottle stepped closer.

“I have a feeling she’s going to regret everything she’s ever done that’s brought her to this moment soon enough,” said the bottle-thrower before punching her full-force in her jaw.

Her vision was momentarily blurred and hot pain spread through her face as the blow fell. She screamed in pain and rage before the person holding her pushed her roughly to the ground at the feet of Bottle-Man, who proceeded to kick her in the ribs. Rolling over, she screamed again, this time louder than before.

“Somebody fucking help me!” she called into the night sky, hoping that someone would come to her aid.

“Keep your whore mouth shut!” the second man hissed as he kicked her in the head full-force with what felt like a work boot.

Her vision faded to black for a moment before another kick landed against her ribs, which had likely been broken in the initial blow, the pain drawing her back into reality. Although she didn’t want to anger the men by making more noise, another cry broke forth from her lips before being swallowed by the night.

“Looks like we got a screamer,” one of the men chuckled.

“Does Negan like it when you scream for him, little bitch?” asked the second in a mocking tone, “Is that how you got your fancy new job? By whoring yourself out to him and screaming his name with your legs open? Fucking worthless bitch!”

Rebecca said nothing, but whimpered as she tried to turn herself over in a vain attempt to get to her feet. Another kick, this time to her ass, sent her sprawling into the grass. The men laughed uproariously at this and yet another kick was launched at her other side.

“If she takes a dick like she’s taking this beating, I bet you’re right!” said the first man.

“Well, I don’t think she’ll last much longer,” replied the second, “In fact, I can pretty much guarantee she won’t.”

A final kick was launched at her temple, again from a boot-clad foot. This time her vision stayed dark, and Rebecca gave up all hope of surviving this attack. As her consciousness faded down into nothingness she heard a final comment from one of her attackers:

“Julie sends her regards, cunt.”

***

Following the fiasco with Julie, Negan resigned himself to being miserable and alone for however long it took him to forget about Rebecca. Not only could he not get himself excited enough to fuck another human being, it seemed, but he couldn’t even jerk off without his mind drifting back to the first (and last) time he and Rebecca had sex in the bed of someone’s dead grandma.

He took his frustrations out on those under his command, forcing his planning meetings to run late into the night, much to the disdain of the rest of his Saviours. The longer his engagements ran, the less time he had to sit alone and think about his personal life. It was during one of these marathon meetings that news of what had happened to Rebecca made its way to him.

As the clock on the wall above the door to his office neared midnight, Negan glanced at the men and women assembled around him, noting more than a few yawns spewing from their stupid mouths. The meeting had started at 7:30pm, and while he felt that he could go all night, it was becoming apparent that they would have to adjourn soon. Nearly every set of eyes in the room were glazed over with hostile boredom and exhaustion. Even Mr. Stoic himself, Chris the Scavenger, looked about ready to stand up and flip over the coffee table before storming out of the meeting prematurely.

Negan had just opened his mouth to finally call the meeting to its blissful conclusion when the door to his office vibrated with a loud knock, interrupting him. Eyes widened and heads sprang up as the unexpected noise roused those in attendance from their demi-sleep. Negan stood quickly and made his way to the door, his heart rate increasing with anxiety. The only reason anyone would dare to knock on his door at this hour would have to be an emergency of some sort, and it was pretty damn urgent judging by the loudness of the knocks.

As the door swung open, Negan’s eyes fell to the face of a panicked-looking “Doctor” Krouse, who immediately began to babble at him, “Hi! I don’t mean to disturb your meeting, and I know it’s really late, but something happened out in the courtyard, by the tree, and I really feel like you-“

“Oh for fuck’s sake, man, just tell me what the fuck you want!” his sudden outburst seemed to sober up the frazzled young man standing in the hallway.

“It’s one of your scavengers, Rebecca. I know you had asked about her before, and you seemed concerned about her at the time, so I thought you might want to know.”

“Know what? What about her?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from revealing the million different images flashing through his mind of terrible fates that could have befallen her. Was she hurt? Was she dead? Did she leave?

“She was attacked earlier tonight-“ he started before being cut off by the barrage of questions that Negan immediately began barking at him.

“What? What the fucking fuck are you talking about? When? Where? Where is she now? Is she ok?”

Krouse peered around Negan’s broad form to look at the large group of meeting participants who were currently staring with wide eyes at the scene that was unfolding only a few feet from them. The commotion had woken them up completely, and Negan now had their full attention.

“Uh. I think it’d be better if I answer those questions in private. If you want to come with me, I can take you to her.” Krouse said in a low voice.

The leader of the Saviours nodded, finally realizing Krouse’s hesitation to divulge the information he so craved. Turning to around he addressed the group in a booming voice, “Everybody get the fuck out of my office!”

They simply stared at him, mouths agape. No one moved an inch and the room was filled with a dreadful silence. Negan waited for a moment before bellowing at the group, “I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!”

As if a starter pistol had gone off at the beginning of a race, the congregation assembled in the office quickly got to their feet and made their way out of the door with looks of terror on their faces. Once the room had cleared out, Negan turned to Krouse, “Well, what the fuck are you waiting for, Doc? Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Sure,” the man said cautiously.

As they walked through the halls in the direction of the infirmary, Negan remained silent, knowing full well that Rebecca’s condition should only be discussed in private. It was no good to ask Krouse to disclose anything to him in a public place, and he would have been furious if the young man had offered to do so anyway. Whoever attacked Rebecca could be listening, and the less they knew about her status, the better.

The few minutes it took to travel from the office to their destination were torture. His thoughts raced with questions: Was she going to survive? Had he caused this somehow? Would she have been attacked if he had been with her?

Once they had reached the door to the infirmary, Krouse pulled a key from his pocket, “Normally we keep the door unlocked while we’re working, but I wanted to be sure no one came in here. I’ve got one of my assistants sitting with her now,” he explained, sliding the key into the lock. The pair stepped into the room, and Krouse immediately turned around to lock the door behind them, stating that it was “better to be safe than sorry”, a sentiment that Negan agreed with completely.

The infirmary was a large, sterile room containing a number of hospital beds which had been pilfered on various supply runs over the years. Currently, only one bed was in use, and when Negan’s eyes spied its occupant, his heart sank.

Rebecca lay in a sea of white sheets and pillows, her face a rainbow of bruises and contusions. Her eyes were closed, and for a brief and horrifying moment, Negan was sure that she was dead. But as he inspected her more carefully he noticed the shallow rise and fall of her chest, and he breathed a slight sigh of relief before spinning toward Krouse.

“First of all, what the fuck happened to her?” he demanded with his expression full of rage.

Krouse’s gaze drifted down to the floor, “We don’t know. About half an hour before I came to get you, someone burst in here saying that they had found a woman unconscious under a tree in the courtyard. We went out there right away and found her like this,” he lifted his eyes back to meet Negan’s, “Once I made sure she was stable, we moved her inside. But that’s all we can really do for now.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Negan demanded in disbelief, “You’re the doctor here! Fucking help her!”

“There’s really nothing left to do. We don’t know the extent of the damage to her brain at this point. It’s impossible to tell due to the lack of equipment in here. We can only wait to see if she wakes up. If that happens, we can assess the situation and figure out what to do. But whoever did this to her, really did a number on her head. It looks like they took a baseball bat to her…” he trailed off after realizing what he had said.

Negan appeared not to notice Krouse’s final statement. His eyes were trained on Rebecca, a single word running through his head: If.

If she woke up.

If she survived.

If implied uncertainty as much as it did vague hope. He fucking hated that word.

Without speaking, he walked over to a stool that sat next to Krouse’s desk and wheeled it over to the bed in which Rebecca lay. He sat down, his shoulders slumping forward as he watched her silently.

“Sir,” Krouse began, “It’s late. There’s nothing you can do now. We’ll notify you if anything changes, but really you should go to bed and get some rest.”

“Piss off,” were the only words that left Negan’s mouth. His voice was quiet and emotionless in the vast room. Gently taking Rebecca’s hand and giving it a squeeze before letting his hand lay over hers, he marvelled at how starkly the black leather of his jacket contrasted against her pale skin.

“Ok. I’m sorry,” Krouse said stepping back and ushering his assistant out of the room. He paused with his hand on the door as he prepared to exit as well, “I’ll let you have some privacy, but we’ll be right outside if anything happens. Please let us know if anything changes or if she wakes up, ok?”

“Yeah,” Negan replied dully without looking up, “Sure.”

#comicnegan>#negans thirst squad #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #negan fanfiction

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theseventhhex · 6 years

Text

DJ Muggs Interview

DJ Muggs

Legendary hip-hop producer and Cypress Hill founder DJ Muggs has released his highly anticipated album ‘Dia Del Asesinato’. The album includes collaborations with DOOM, Raekwon, Freddie Gibbs, Kool G Rap, Meyhem Lauren, Mach-Hommy, Hus Kingpin, and Eto. Furthermore, the album comes on the heels of Muggs' hot streak of collab-projects with Meyhem Lauren including 2017's ‘Gems from the Equinox’ and this year's ‘Frozen Angels EP’. ‘Dia Del Asesinato’ is a conceptual album with an underlying theme of hip-hop combating corruption in society and government. Simply put, this record exemplifies an extraordinary talent sharing his musical undertakings with intellectual minds and unswervingly being able to summon remarkable and innovative music. Muggs’ willingness for origination is refreshing and essential, drawing on engaging experiences and always genuinely connecting to his audience… The Seventh Hex talks to DJ Muggs about dark beats, technological advancements and the pyramids of Giza…

TSH: Your terrific consistency continues with the awesome ‘Dia del Asesinato’. As you started work on this album, was it once again an instinctual case of doing what feels right and no preplanning?

Muggs: It was, yes. I had like 75 songs and in ways I was intent on using them all. I just wanted to create and I wasn’t putting too much thought into what would come out of it. All in all, there was definitely a lot of effort being put in. I was just in the lab putting in the hours and it all came about pretty naturally.

TSH: What’s the dynamic like when you go into your studio and you’re sampling from your own samples with so many to sift through and choose from?

Muggs: You know, none of this feels like work to me. I am blessed, man! I get to wake up every day and create art on my own terms, in my own time and in my own space - I’m blessed to live this kind of existence. I go into my studio five days a week and come up with different ideas. Sometimes I go through samples or I make beats, other times I work on atmosphere and pace - it’s always changing. I make sure I’m not a hamster on a wheel - I do something every day. Eventually, I’ll sit back with all these pieces, flip the process and I start putting the record together with my chosen names and my vision in mind.

TSH: Do you feel like your dark beats are embedded within you?

Muggs: The dark beats are what I’m all about - I spit them out without any thought and without even trying - it’s this natural energy that runs through me.

TSH: You’ve also alluded to the rawness of New York’s streets back in the day - how you feel this still exists and you even try to tap into this in the studio...

Muggs: Absolutely. You know, I feel like this raw energy exists within me. I can look at a picture and I can remember and go back to certain space. I can also listen to a song and feel it on a deep level. I feel like I’m living with this past energy that I miss and it will always be a part of me. I can tap into it at will and pull from there.

TSH: You had the legendary Kool G Rap and the iconic MF DOOM on board for ‘Assassination Day’. What was the process like in bringing this track together?

Muggs: Man, this track was pretty fucking easy. Having Kool G on board is always special because he can sound modern over anything. Also, I’ve known DOOM since 1988. We were even in a 3rd Bass video together in 1989 for the track called ‘Steppin' to the A.M.’ - we were riding in the back of a car. I actually hadn’t seen him in a while but when I reached out to him for this record, we chopped it up real quick and that shit was done quick.

TSH: You flew out to Barcelona to see DOOM and soon discovered that your chemistry resulted in you both being on the same wavelength...

Muggs: Absolutely. I flew out to Europe and sat in the studio with him for a few days. We did a bunch of shit together, and there’s still more to come. Also, DOOM is a producer too so he just understands shit from all angles. DOOM loved the dark and menacing tracks I had and he’d been looking to hop on to that kind of style for a while. A lot of times DOOM’s raps are pretty upbeat, but I just kept him dark and dirty with my beats. I was bringing to mind night time New York - walking through an alley with a gritty feel.

TSH: What resonates with you most with a track like ‘Yacht Party’?

Muggs: Yo, this track just simply makes me feel like I’m on a fucking yacht having a party! When I met up with Raekwon for this one, we were just talking and I told him that this shit makes me envision a yacht party with some big Hefe shit and some big narcos shit going down. Kind of like where all the big drug-dealers come together on a yacht and talk business.

TSH: Having observed the technological advancements in the music industry over the years, do you embrace the changes?

Muggs: You know, the industry as a whole and the business side of things is so different now. It’s a way different beast to what it used to be. You know what it is though; I’m my own industry and business at this time. I guess technology has its pros and cons but it’s all’s about finding a healthy balance. Technology actually helps me to be able to go direct to the fans and the consumer without needing music distribution. Also, now I shoot all of my own videos, I take my own pictures and I maintain control over my overall vision. I don’t have to wait for a director or have budget concerns. Back in the day when we did the artwork, we had to fuckin FedEx the artwork, now I get it in a second. Overall, I embrace technology because I don’t have to deal with dumbass donkeys on my team when I have a project in the works. Instead, I have a team full of smart guys and everything flows like it’s supposed to.

TSH: Given all the bedlam in the world and negativity coming from all angles, how do you like to obtain a positive headspace?

Muggs: I just play with my dogs, man. Also, I love spending time with my kids, hitting the gym or having a good conversation and good laughs with my friends. I mostly spend my time in my studio. My studio is like a clubhouse; sometimes we don’t even work. Various artists comes there and hang out, it’s a space where all these masterful minds can come together and bring all these thoughts and ideas together in one place and conjure up some awesome shit.

TSH: You recently spent a night in the king’s chambers in the pyramids of Giza. What was this experience like?

Muggs: Pretty fucking amazing! The shit that I experienced in there I really can’t speak about, but it was fucking mind-blowing. At first I was kind of apprehensive and a little nervous about going in because no cameras are allowed so I snuck my phone in, but it was on 5% battery walking in. But yeah, once I was in there I sat there and meditated and had some interesting visions.

TSH: What’s satisfied you most with regards to your way of working on this record?

Muggs: Just the fact that I’ve had fun, man. It’s just great to get into the studio with some amazing names and learn from them. As much as a master I am, you’ve got to constantly be a student and I just continue to learn. Whenever I share time with amazing artists with great minds, I talk to them and I get to learn and explore further. Every time I learn something new, I realise how much I don’t know.

TSH: Finally, What is your biggest drive with your future musical endeavours as you look ahead?

Muggs: My biggest drive is to explore the unknown. I want to unravel the mysteries that are going to be out in front of me. I want to do things that I haven’t done before and work with new talent that inspires me. I have to stay open and remain non-judgmental, but always remember to have fun and bring good energy to the table. I‘ll continue to learn, but I also want to teach others that reach out to me and come around me. I want to be the type of energy that comes into a room and makes everybody better with my presence.

DJ MUGGS - “Assassination Day (feat. MF Doom & Kool G Rap)”

DJ MUGGS - “Death Wish feat. Freddie Gibbs”

Soul Assassins: Dia Del Asesinato

#Interview #DJ Muggs #Muggs #Cypress Hill #DOOM #Raekwon

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