#bye ! bye toodles :D | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

turtle-steverogers · 6 years

Text

Fugitives- Chap 6

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Warnings: D E A T H (someone is shot and killed, yeet), drug mention

Ship: Eventual Ralbert

I’m so so so sorry

Albert was awoken a few hours later to the sounds of people arguing on the other side of the shower curtain. He kept his eyes shut as he strained his ears, trying to catch what the voices were saying.

“You let someone walk away?” Whispered a voice that Albert recognized as Jack’s.

“He promised he wouldn’t run his mouth,” Came Race’s reply.

“Of course he promised, Antonio,” Came another, exasperated voice, “Anyone would promise that if you shot a gun at their wall and threatened to kill them.”

“Davey’s right,” Jack said, “I can’t believe you, Race.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Race exclaimed defensively.

“Kill him, Racetrack,” Jack said, his voice was gaining volume, “You were supposed to kill him.”

“Jack Kelly, you know that I can’t fucking-”

“Yes, I’ve fucking heard it. I’ve heard a million times that you won’t fucking kill anyone else,” Jack was speaking loudly now, “I don’t know what happened to you in Prospect. I don’t know what part you played in Rockefeller, but you’re going to have to get the fuck over it one day, because in this fucking life, you’re gonna have to kill a few people and-”

“Shut up, Jack!” Race shouted, “Shut the fuck up. I know that I’m gonna have to kill a few people. Hell, you’ve made me kill a few people, but don’t fucking talk to me about Rockefeller. Don’t ever bring that up, asshole, there’s a fucking reason I don’t talk about it.” Race’s breath hitched after the last sentence.

“Both of you quiet down, you’re going to wake people up,” The other man, Davey, scolded, “Jack, leave his past out of this. Race, take a deep breath. We’re going to have to think about how to deal with Albert’s roommate, but for now, I think that it would be best if we all just got some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack mumbled.

“Thank you,” Davey said, “Race?”

Albert heard Race take a measured breath, “Okay,” he answered, voice strained.

“Good, get some sleep, Race,” Davey instructed, “Jack, c’mon.”

Albert cracked an eye open, watching as two silhouettes walked to the other side of the theatre. He saw Race’s shadow pacing back and forth behind the curtain a few times, before he sat down on his cot. It looked like he was holding his head in his hands.

Albert felt worry claw at his gut. What were they planning to do to Elmer? He had half a thought to send a warning text to him, but didn’t want to find out the repercussions if Jack found out he’d contacted him. Maybe they weren’t going to kill him, maybe they were just going to recruit Elmer like they’d done with him. Logically, Albert knew that wasn’t the case.

Albert let out a frustrated sigh and reached under his pillow to grab his phone. It was nearly 6:00 am, so Elmer would be waking up within the hour to go to his morning shift at the coffee shop he worked at.

Albert clicked into his and Elmer’s texts and bit his lip, trying to decide how to word his message.

To Elmer: Bro, do me a fat favor and stay at your girl’s place for a few days. Don’t ask questions. I’m handling it. Just don’t go back to our place and never go anywhere alone.

He hovered his thumb over the send button for a few moments, then delivered it. Elmer was no doubt going to ask questions anyway, but it was worth a shot. He deleted their conversation and slid his phone back under his pillow. Rolling over, he noticed that Race was no longer sitting on his cot. In fact, it didn’t look like he was on his side of the wing at all. Albert frowned and lifted his head, glancing around the parts of the theatre that he could see, but there was no sign of Race anywhere. He got up, curiosity getting the better of him. Carefully, he drew back the curtain separating his and Race’s side, eyes sweeping the dark area. At first he didn’t see anything, then he noticed Race sitting on the ground in front of his cot.

“You okay?” He whispered, causing Race to jump violently and turn around.

His face was lined with tear tracks, which he hastily wiped away with his shirt sleeve, “What the fuck? How long’ve you been awake?”

Albert shrugged, “Not too long.”

Race stood, then sat down on his cot, pulling his knees up to his chest. He looked tired, “Did you hear anything?”

Albert considered telling him what he had witnessed of his conversation with Jack and Davey, but thought against it, “Nothing besides you moving around.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah..”

“Sorry for waking you.”

Albert waved a hand nonchalantly, “You didn’t, I’m a light sleeper.”

Race sniffed and lowered his chin to rest on his knees, “What do you want?”

Albert glanced down, suddenly feeling guilty for invading what was obviously a very personal moment for Race, “Uh, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Race scowled, “Well, I’m fine. Why do you care anyway? I’ve been pretty terrible to you.”

“I was just curious, man-” They both startled when Albert’s phone began buzzing.

Race raised his eyebrows, “You better go get that before Jack or Davey hears. They’re really strict about phones and who we’re all contacting.”

Albert huffed and let the curtain fall back into place, once again separating himself from Race. He took his phone from under his pillow to see that Elmer was calling him. He quickly declined the call and clicked into his texts.

To Elmer: No calling. Just text.

From Elmer: Where the fuck are you man???? What the fuck happened yesterday??? Are you alive?????

To Elmer: Of course I’m alive, numbnuts. I can’t tell you where I am and I can’t tell you what was happening yesterday, but you’re kinda in danger so…

From Elmer: BUdDY you can’t say all this shit without an explanation. I’m freaking the fuck out

To Elmer: Believe me, I am too. Listen, please just trust me. Where are you right now? From Elmer: Sarah’s

Albert slumped onto his cot, relief flooding his system. Elmer was safe at his girlfriend’s place, far from their apartment.

To Elmer: Thank fuck, okay. Maybe don’t go to work tomorrow. Or move to China and change your name. Idc, just please look out for yourself. Also delete this convo

From Elmer: Albert what the fuck

To Elmer: I’m sorry. I gotta go. Remember to delete this. I’ll talk to you when I can

From Elmer: Jfc ok bye

Albert erased his messages once more and laid back against his pillows. He scrolled through Instagram mindlessly, trying in vain to get tired again. It was nearing 7:00 am, so he assumed he’d have to be up soon anyway. Eventually, he dozed off, phone still in hand.

XXX

“The fuck?” Albert yelped as his pillow was yanked out from under his head.

“Rise and shine, bitchatcho.”

Albert looked up to see Race hovering over him, pillow in hand.

“What time s’it?” He asked, voice still thick with sleep.

“Like, 8:00 am,” Race thwacked Albert violently with the pillow, ”We gotta long day ahead of us, so get the fuck up.”

Albert glared at him for a long moment before reluctantly sitting up, “Fine, give me like, ten minutes to change and take a piss.”

“Awesome, meet me downstairs by the storage room when you’re.”

Albert gave him a sarcastic thumbs up and watched as Race left the stage. He pulled his jeans out from under his cot and changed into them, then went to the dressing rooms to use the bathroom. On his way downstairs, he stopped by his bin and took out a sweatshirt, yanking it over his head as he bounded down the stairs.

As promised, Race was waiting outside the storage room, eating a banana. There were two other men with him, one sporting a backwards hat over his curly brown hair and the other leaning heavily on a crutch.

“Heya, Albert,” Race greeted, “Meet Finch and Crutchie.”

The one with a crutchie leaned forward, offering a hand, “As you can probably gather, outta the two of us, I’m Crutchie. I’m Empire’s medic, so if you’re aboutta die or some shit, I’ll patch you up.”

“Uh, sounds good,” Albert said, shaking Crutchie’s hand. He turned to the guy in the backwards hat, “And what about you?”

“Finch,” The guy grunted.

Albert cocked his head and looked at Race, who flicked the guy in the back of the head, “Sorry about him, he’s bitter. That’s Finch. He’s our botanist.”

“Botanist?”

“I run our drug inventory,” Finch said, toying with a cigarette and looking entirely uninterested.

“Cool, uh, nice to meet you..” Finch scanned his eyes over Albert, who crossed his arms self-consciously.

“Likewise.”

“Well, this is cozy,” Crutchie said brightly, “Anyway, I leave you all to your work. Just thought I’d introduce myself. Toodles!” He waved and hobbled away.

“You gotta key, Finchy?” Race asked.

“Don’t call me that,” Finch said, fishing a key out of his jacket pocket and unlocking the storage room door.

“Oh yeah,” Race said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out another banana, “Here, before I forget it’s in there and sit on it.” he handed the banana to Albert, who hesitantly took it.

“I didn’t poison it or some shit,” Race laughed, “Just thought you’d be hungry.”

Albert wordlessly peeled the banana and took a bite, realizing belatedly how hungry he was.

“Race,” Finch called from inside the storage room, “What do you need?”

“Uh, get me like, two grams of pot? And...I think that’s it. It’s a small trade.”

“Kay,” Finch emerged a moment later holding a white paper bag. He handed it to Race who crumpled it and put it into his jacket pocket.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Higgins,” Finch held out a hand, “Give me the bag back.”

Race rolled his eyes and shoved the bag into Finch’s outstretched palm. Finch held his glare as he neatly folded the bag over a few times, then handed it back to Race, who carefully placed it back into his pocket.

“Happy?” Race jeered.

“Extremely,” Finch answered with a fake smile, “We done here? I would like to get coffee now.”

“Yes, we’re done, go get your bean juice.”

Finch sneered and walked away, disappearing up the stairs.

“He’s really fucking meticulous about his drugs,” Race said, zipping up his jacket.

“Meticulous,” Albert repeated, “Didn’t peg you for a fifty-cent-word kinda guy.”

“Shut up, I went to high school. I glanced at all the SAT words.”

“Oh, did you? So what does brevity mean?”

“Uhhhhhhh..” Race screwed up his face in thought, “I said I glanced, dude. That doesn’t mean I retained any actual knowledge.”

“Brevity’s easy. It’s the quality of being brief or terse.”

“Albert, have I told you you’re annoying yet?”

“Many times.”

“Okay, you’re annoying. Now c’mon, The Bronx is waiting.”

XXX

The bleak winter air bit Albert’s face as he and Race left The Bowery. As they walked through the street toward the nearest subway station, Albert couldn’t help but notice the strange feeling that nagged at the back of his neck. The streets felt almost different, like they were hiding some enormous monster underneath them. The ever-existing presence of Empire and Prospect loomed ominously over Race and Albert, blind to the eyes of other pedestrians. He felt incredibly vulnerable, constantly paying mind to who was paying attention to them. Anyone at any time could be a threat- there was no telling who knew what.

They caught the yellow line that would take them to The Bronx, where they were scheduled to trade with some guy in Fordham at 9:30. It was currently 8:15 and the ride was supposed to take about forty-five minutes, leaving Albert wishing he had his headphones so he could disengage completely.

“You nervous at all?” Race’s question surprised Albert, and he turned to him

“Kinda, I guess? How exactly does a trade work?”

“First off, for the love of God, lower your voice,” Race said, leaning in so that they could talk in quieter voices, “And it’s pretty simple. You missed phase one, which is deciding a meet place and trade time. We do that using the graffiti, which I’ve already told you about. One of these days, I’ll show you the symbols we use and what they mean, but that’s not important right now. So now, we just have to be at the coordinated location and make sure he actually has the cash he promised. If he does, we trade, plain and easy.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Race glanced to the side briefly, “Then, we….” he worried his lip between his teeth.

“...Kill him?” Albert tried,

Race looked down at his lap, reaching up a hand to tug at the hair on the back of his head, “I mean, no. Killing’s not entirely necessary. That’s like, last resort. Like if he pulls knife on us. Yeah, no, we’d just, like, beat him up.” He was rambling and Albert furrowed his brow.

“You alright? Why are you getting weird?”

“I’m not,” Race said, defensively scooting backwards a bit.

“You totally are,” Albert noted that Race had shrunken in on himself, “Is this something to do with last night? With Rockefeller or whatever Jack was talking about?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Albert regretted them.

He silently cursed his lack of a filter as Race whipped his head up, “What? How did you-” he scooted backwards further as his expression turned furious, “So you were listening. You lied to me, DaSilva. This puts you on thin fucking ice.”

Albert pursed his lips, annoyed with himself.

“If you were listening so carefully,” Race seethed, “Then you should have known not to fucking bring that up.”

“M’sorry,” Albert mumbled.

Race didn’t answer as he busied himself in pulling out his headphones, though Albert could see his hands shaking. Albert sat back in his seat and pulled out his own phone, electing to catch up on SnapChat until they arrived in The Bronx.

Fordham was significantly sketchier than the neighborhoods Albert was used to. The storefronts they passed were all worn down and the deeper Race led Albert into the area, the dirtier it got. Race hadn’t spoken a word to him since their conversation on the train, leaving Albert more or less in the dark about the specifics of where they were going. Eventually, they arrived at an abandoned auto-shop.

Race walked around to the back of the lot and knocked on one of the garage doors. It opened a moment later to reveal a tall, gruff looking guy.

“You Racetrack?” He asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yes, sir, I am,” Race said, sauntering over to him, “But, a little piece of constructive criticism, don’t ever voice your assumptions. If you had been wrong about who was just now, that could have meant serious trouble for the both of us.”

The guy looked unimpressed, “I expected you to be less twiggy.”

“And I expected you to have more than one brain cell, but alas.”

“Whatever,” The guy said, “You got the shit?”

“Yeah,” Race retrieved the paper bag containing the weed from his jacket, “And you’ll get it as soon as I see the cash.”

The guy reached into his back pocket and produced an envelope, “Here, you see it. Now give me the goddamn pot already.”

“Nuh uh uh,” Race wagged his finger, “Calm down, you useless junkie. I already made it very clear the other day that it’s cash first, weed second. Hand it over.”

“Show me the pot first,” Race opened the bag and held it out for the guy to see. He peered at the bag’s contents, inspecting it closely, “And that’s two grams?”

Race clicked his tongue, “It should be.”

The guy nodded and reached into the envelope, revealing a large wad of cash. He held it out for Race to take, who in turn, handed the paper bag over to him.

Once the items were exchanged, Race spit into his palm and offered it to the guy. Without hesitation, the guy spit into his own hand and shook Race’s. Albert wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Pleasure doing business,” Race said, formally.

The guy huffed a small laugh, “Okay.”

With that, he stalked back into the auto shop and closed the garage door. Race turned to Albert, looking pleased.

“That went nice and smooth,” He said.

“Yeah, seemed easy,” Albert agreed.

“I’m hungry,” Race declared, “Let’s head back to The Bowery for lunch, then we can do our next trade.”

“What time’s our next trade? And where?” Albert asked, following Race away from the autoshop.

“4:00 over in Washington Square Park. We have a little while.”

The journey back to The Bowery seemed to take less time than the commute to The Bronx. Race had loosened up significantly and was telling Albert about the other guys in Empire as they entered the theatre.

“So yeah, you met Finch and Crutchie- great guys by the way, absolute geniuses. Aside from them, there’s Mush and Blink, who trade a lot over in Staten Island. Blink’s got an eyepatch. No one knows exactly what happened to his eye, but it definitely involved a knife. Romeo is a little shit, but a total charmer, which comes in handy during trades. Jojo’s the handyman- I’ve already told you about him. Giant teddy bear, that guy. Love him. And then you met Jack and I’ve told you about Les and Davey- oh! I want you to meet Davey, he should be around today, one sec,” As they passed the recreation room, Race stuck his head in, “Hey, Mush.”

Albert peeked over Race’s shoulder to see a shorter guy with straight brown hair, playing solitaire. He looked up upon hearing his name and smiled, “Hey Race,” He made eye contact with Albert and blinked, “You’re Albert, yeah? The dude Race pulled off the street?”

“Indeed, that’s me,” Albert said as Race pulled him into the room.

“Welcome, don’t fuck anything up,” Mush said, placing his cards onto the table and clasping his hands under his chin, “Did you guys need something?”

“Yeah,” Race leaned against the door, “D’you know where Davey is?”

“Uh, I’m not actually sure? I saw him and Jack leave a little bit ago. They said they have something they need to take care of over in SoHo.”

Race frowned, “That’s weird, I didn’t think that they had any trades today.”

Albert felt his blood run cold as he processed what Mush had told them, “Oh my god,” he muttered, “Oh my god.”

Race and Mush looked at him, confusion written on their faces, “What? What’s wrong.”

Albert swallowed and met Race’s stare, panic running down his spine, “Elmer’s girlfriend lives in SoHo.”

“What are you-” Albert didn’t let Race finished as he fled the room, running towards the exit.

“Albert, slow down,” Race called, running after him, “Albert!”

Albert stopped just outside the theatre, turning around to look at Race with wide, terror-stricken eyes, “Race, please, I need to make sure Elmer’s okay.”

“But what does that have to do with his girlfriend-” Understanding dawned on Race’s face, “Wait shit, is he still at his girl’s place?”

“Yes and I think that’s where Jack and Davey are headed. Come or don’t, I’m going,” Albert ran to the street and hailed a cab, Race climbing in next to him.

“Albert,” Race hissed, “You realize this is gonna make it worse, right?”

“Shut up,” Albert snapped, pulling out his phone and dialing Elmer’s number. When he didn’t pick up, Albert called Sarah.

“Hello?” Sarah answered from the other side. She sounded okay, which Albert took as a good sign.

“Sarah, are you at your place?” Albert asked, urgently.

“No, I’m at the grocery store right now, why? Is everything okay?”

“Is Elmer with you?” Albert pushed.

“No,” Sarah said, slowly, “He was still asleep when I left, so he didn’t come.”

“Shit,” Albert cursed, “Shit shit shit.”

“Albert, what’s-” Sarah started, sounding worried.

“I gotta go, but don’t go home,” Albert demanded, not waiting for a reply as he hung up.

They arrived in front of Elmer’s apartment complex fifteen minutes later. Albert almost didn’t want to go inside, too afraid of what he might find. He forced himself to get out of the cab nonetheless and sprinted in through the front, Race on his heels. He bypassed the elevator, instead darting towards the door to the stairwell and scaling the three flights of stairs to Sarah’s floor. When he got to the apartment, he found that it was locked.

He cursed under his breath, then turned to Race, who was standing nervously a few feet away, “Do you have, like, anything you can use to pick locks?” He asked, impatiently.

Race looked like he was having some sort of internal battle as he reached into his boot and pulled out a knife, handing it to Albert, who stuck his tongue between his teeth as he fiddled with the doorknob. It took a few minutes, but eventually he got heard the click indicating that he had succeeded.

“I don’t think you should go in there,” Race warned, but Albert ignored him.

The next thirty seconds felt like they went by in slow motion. Albert opened the door to find Jack and a man in a button down shirt and sweater vest standing on the other side. The man in the sweater vest was pointing a gun at Elmer, who was cowering against the wall. Jack looked up as Albert entered the room and opened his mouth to shout something, but was cut off by the sound of a gunshot. Albert looked over to see Elmer slump onto the floor, blood flowing steadily from his head. He screamed and staggered backwards into Race, who caught him and lowered him to the floor. The sound around Albert seemed to muffle. The world was blurry and he was certain that people were talking around him, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Albert, Jesus Christ,” He felt someone slap him across the face and he flinched, “Stop screaming or Davey’ll shoot you too,” Race’s voice bled into his consciousness and he was suddenly pulled back to reality.

He closed his mouth, stopping the screams that were escaping him. Without thinking, he looked at Elmer’s body again and his stomach lurched. He bent over to the side and threw up, unable to handle the sight any longer. He heard the door close behind him, then the man in the sweater vest crouched down in front of him.

His eyes were alarmingly calm as he offered a hand to Albert, “You must be Albert. I’m Davey, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

In the words of @newsies-of-nyc “R.I.P el, sorry bro”

next chapter we find out what ‘Rockefeller’ is oooo race’s dark past

TAG LIST:

@bencookisagod

@we-dont-sell-papes

@suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@well-the-kids-do-too

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

@thatpoorguysheadisspinning

@newsies-of-nyc

@andthewoildwillknow

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@have-we-got-news-for-you

@musical-shitposts

@thebroadwayaesthetic

#racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #ralbert #newsies #newsies fic #jack kelly #davey jacobs #fugitives

45 notes · View notes

meshugana1 · 6 years

Text

Tit for...

This is the fulfillment of two very similar requests. Enjoy.

Life was hell at Diana Penebscott’s School for Gifted Women, for some that is. By looking at it’s student population you’d be fooled about just what most of the girls are gifted with. It would be damn hard to find an IQ higher than a hundred, and even harder still to find a bust line below double D’s. They exist though, and unfortunately, all of both categories belong to my friends and me. What kind of asshole god sets things up this way? Even the faculty represent this disparity well. It wouldn’t be so bad if they let us alone, but something about perceived weakness makes them dig in their five-inch heels. “Well, well. If it isn’t the itty bitty titty committee! Gonna work up some science to fix yourself flatsy?” That was practically their war cry. The other girls and I, not given the boon of boobs, just naturally gravitated towards each other. It was a survival mechanism.

The faculty never lifted a finger for us. Half of them sported chest that were just the same as their students, and the other half were alumni that enjoyed the current status quo. “It’s just playful hazing,” they’d say, “don’t let it get to you.” That in and of itself wouldn’t have been to hard, save for that traitorous viper Alexis. She was one of us once, the underclass at the school. That and my best friend. But then last summer, her “daddy” bought her into the popular girl's favor. We all watched as she came bouncing onto the campus in a low-cut shirt, so painfully eager to show everyone her new chest. She instantly gravitated past us and our weak waves into the embrace of Wendy, the head cheerleader. Why an all girls college with no football team needed to pour money into a cheer team was beyond me, but they were there, and like many other institutions they formed the top of the student hierarchy. They welcomed her with open arms, and I…I was actually stupid enough to think that this might be a turning point for the school. I thought that maybe she might show the other girls that we weren’t different, that it was all skin deep. But the day after, she was there, shoulder to shoulder with all those other bitches as they hurried mockery at us. That would’ve been hard enough, but she was the first one to grab a tomato from the salad bar and aim it right at my face.

I’m not entirely sure which part of her betrayal sent me over the edge. I was never mean to her, never a cross word. I wasn’t catty with a single one of them, yet they hounded all of us to no end. All because they won the genetic lottery. All because of those fucking tits. Why did I have to be born smart? Why can’t I just be like them? And, naturally, when I thought the pit I had slipped into couldn’t get any deeper, who should come up to me but Alexis? “Hey there, couldn’t help but notice you looked a little down. I’m sorry about that, but you know how it is right? Gotta show I can hang with them. I’m sure you’ll develop a little bit more one day. I mean, if I could give you some of mine I would, ya know? But wishing won’t make it so. Toodles! By the way, you might wanna stay away from the common area, we’re kinda staking a claim to it. Bye.” Even the way she spoke to me was different. Like she thought all of it was just a part of some game. But as the hatred crystalized in my blood, I couldn’t get that line out of my head. ‘If I could give you some of mine…’

The steam of the hot showers clung to the nubile young bodies of the women and cleared away the sweat and toil of their expansive routines. “Alexis,” Wendy said, “you did well at practice today and all, but you seriously need to stop talking with that flats patsy, understand? We have a reputation to maintain.” “I know, it’s just kinda fun to string her along. She still thinks we’re friends, isn’t that sad?” “Totally, she just needs to like move on and focus on her stupid book junk. Don’t forget to wash up everything, looking good is ninety percent of the job.” Alexis gleefully did as she was told. No matter how many times she looked at her new breasts she simply couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that they were hers. Her father paid well for them too, it took a very well trained eye to see any falseness to them. Her fingers tickled along their underside, still surprised by the way they curved perfectly into her cupped hands. At first she was determined to be different, to not succumb to the way of the other girls. But she couldn’t help seeing things differently now. Breasts were a real gift, and she wasn’t about to waste hers on her former friends. It was so difficult for her to resist the subtle slippage of her hand down to her moist entrance. But she was snapped from her pre-onanistic daydream when she heard a gasp over the hissing of the showers. “OMG, Alexis! Look at your butt!”

Wendy gaped in quiet shock as he underling swung her torso around searching for the best angle. Wendy and the entire cheer squad watched as the newbie’s butt began to undulate. As if it were being pumped with air then deflated over and over. Alexis felt stinging friction on her ass and spun in place trying to catch the cause. Each revolution gave more detail to the women. Alexis’s ass was quite plump, but as she turned once it looked a little bit flatter. Even more so on the next turn. Her hips caved in and became like twigs. Her hands were frantically slapping at her toneless bottom, almost like she thought it was asleep and tried to wake it. It was like she never had an ass to begin with now. The squad had developed a collective pit in their stomachs as the newbie’s ass vanished. Alexis grabbed what barely counted as a lump of flesh at the base of her spine. Tears mingled with the metallic water of the showers as she slunk to the floor. Too shocked to notice that her most loved breasts began to pulse as well.

Alexis only noticed when her heaving sobs pushed her ribcage into her crossed arms. She had spent years feeling her flat chest against her arms as she cried, but now she derived terror instead of comfort. Her arms flung away and she saw her implants fade into her torso as if they had been punctured from the inside. “Jesus Alexis! What kind of implants did your dad like, buy you?” There came no answer. All Alexis could see was her father's fifty thousand dollar present flush away, as well as any chance at popularity. Alexis was afraid to raise her head. Her ears twitch in anticipation of the volley of insults to be cast her way. Fraud, liar, cheat. But when none came, she did look, and she saw as each one of her squamates breasts began to pulse and whither before her unbelieving eyes.

The shower had become more tears than water that day. The squad had left without notice. The next day as classes began, they all assembled in the common area. All of them was stuffed bras and padded pants. None looked convincing. Wendy especially, her development was early, and the idea of stuffing never occurred to her before last night. Many of them still cried heavy tears as they looked at all their flat friends, reminding themselves of their own low state. “Well. Well. Well. Look at what we have here. The newest branch of the itty bitty titty committee. See anything familiar ladies?” Alexis recognized the voice of her old friend, but nothing else. It was as though she had been hit by the puberty truck overnight! Her breasts were mountainous and plotted their eruption from behind the flimsy buttons of her shirt. Her hips had become so large that her skirt was riding up her thigh. You could land a jumbo jet on that ass. Alexis and the squad stared openmouthed as she began to speak. “You know Alexis; I was pretty mad at you. But know that I know how good it feels to have a nice pair of sweater melons, and an ass that has caused a fender bender, I think I understand you. Too bad you girls couldn’t hold on to these puppies. I mean, I’d share some with you, but I don’t want to. Toodles, losers.” The squad watch her spill on a heel and strut away, mesmerized by the perfect sway of her ass.

That was incredible. I mean…wow. Who would’ve thought catharsis could feel so good. I wasn’t kidding about how good these felt. Holy shit. Just the way they bounced freely as I walked, the attention they drew, and the tension between my buttons is making me so freaking hot. It’s amazing what a few nanites can do. It was a brilliant idea to put them in the water supply. I can take as much of their curves as I want, then redistribute the wealth as I see fit. Of course, one should ask themselves in this situation…why stop with the cheerleaders?

The End. Hope Y'all like it!

#trait theft #breast shrink #hip shrink #ass shrink #breast expansion #ass expansion #forced changes #breast reduction #ass reduction #attribute transfer #attribute theft #request

138 notes · View notes

thelapismoon · 6 years

Text

MCSM S2 E4 Commentary

Wow I have forgotten what this episode even was about. *whispers* I actually never finished watching a playthrough so I guess I'll see some knew stuff. Heh. I'm scared. I managed to get changed, get my food, update my tumblr, and this thing is only 55% complete. HOW LONG IS THIS EPISODE?

Quite funny that I've already said this much stuff and the episode hasn't even completed downloading. I wonder who actually ever reads this? Sorry about not writing my commentary for the last episode. I just didn't want to stop the episode every three seconds to write. Speaking of that, I might just paused every ten minutes to write. Huh. Thank god it's at 83%. I'm worried. This soundtrack, oml. It's finally done downloading. See you on the other side. Is Radar the narrator now? Admin, Admin, let me like you. I want more Warden interactions. Oh look at this awful frame rate- that's my fault Wait I forgot that I gave in and became a guard. Nurm, I love you. Warden didn't deserve to die. This lighting tho. 10/10. Radar, if you're trying to make me feel bad, it's not working. Nurmie-hurmie, I could never leave you behind, dear. Please don't hurt Xara, telltale. That facial expression. NGHHH FEELS. *singing* Holy shiet. Radar you better be careful because I won't hesitate. Nurm can I hug you? I feel like if that was actual minecraft logic, that jump would've killed us. ITS H I M I love this music, reminds me of some old western but.. dorky. Baby zombie. Tag urself, I'm Xara. NURM. Don't cry.. Let me wipe the tears away, you poor soul. Nghh Jack and Nurm are a perfect couple. If something happens to EITHER of them, I'm gonna throw some hands. You sure that isn't just a carpet..? I haven't played minecraft in like three years so.. Poor Xara. Wtf is wrong with you guys?! Um... NO I DO CARE!! Can I lay down next to you? Well.. Bye? OH NO I SUCK AT FIGHTING. Oh my gosh, this is the first time I survived in one try. Yees. R A D A R. I swear to Persson... Hm. NGHHHH I'm only going to do this because if I don't, Nurm is gonna cry. And I refuse to let. Nurm. Cry. Argh. You're all ungrateful swines. Who is that? Hm. I want to draw her. OH shoot my iPad is at 5% power. "1 night in Fred's house"? That sounds extremely CONVENIENT. Hello, Binta. You look... Nice. *cough* Everyone here seems.. Off. Oh hi Kent. Bye Kent. Gonna just... Slowly walk away. Lapis blue..? *cackles because you must know by now* Wow, good job, Jesse. You just ruined the moment. Can't wait for that to be a running gag no one will stop talking about for two weeks. *sigh* I can't stop thinking about Star Wars right now... Ngh.. F o c u s. Wow I'm actually really proud of this. Oh look, I won. Well now I feel bad. Me and my darn feelings.. WAIT THEY WERE PRETTY CAN I- Argh. I don't like these people. <<nothing much until the Ivor fight because there wasn't much to say>> Doodle doodle doo everything is nice and calm POTION. NGHHHH!!! Oh shiet I don't have a sword. I have a feeling I know who it is <<well of course I do>> Welp, honey, If you gotta kill me, at least I'll know my favorite character of all time did it to me. Hope this stains your conscious, Ivor. Ivor, my love, you're back! <<me the first time I saw him, YES. OH MY GOD. YES. YES!!! HES BACK! HES BACK! ARGHHHH! HES BACK! AHAAAA!>> My sweet alchemist, let me hug you on behalf of my friend and just because I love you so very much. I totally wasn't writing fanfiction about you two hours ago :,)) AGHHH. Ivor, can I just hug you for the rest of eternity? Oh my god I think I'm going to start crying. He looks... Slightly off... CAN YOU HEAR THAT? THOSE CHORDS!!! Those are IVOR'S theme. ACK I love him. Oh wait yeh, ninja, I have questions... Shiet, Ivor. You punched a forest worth of trees? Add that to my scar-headcanon-list. I can't believe they made Ivor the karate kid When his voice gets really deep and husky oh my lord... You know who I'm thinking of.. *looks at you Zoe* Can I hug you? Sweet old man I love you. Harper? Where IS Harper? *hack* where is Soren also? Mmmmm I'm getting all these good vibes now I gotta drop some stuff in the Ivor askbox once I'm done. Darn I wanted the old order to come back :( If Ivor.. shows some type of question of authority towards the admin... Oh my.. "Disappear", hm? Wait.. Okay Ivor's voice ;v; What if Ivor actually killed Jesse? I'd like to read a fic about THAT. Ivor is whispering, I can hug him, he's being witty! everything I could ever want is happening. Ivor's voice lines are my Christmas present. I love you, Ivor. Oh my gosh he looks so short next to Petra. NO DONT GO. Actually. Wait. DO go, If the admin suspects anything of you or even dares to TOUCH you, I will lose my god dang m i n d Ivor Ivor Ivor. Farewell, my beloved... Okay I'm sorry you all had to see that. I thought I had hallucinated ninja Ivor at first tbh. Well now what? I don't even really wanna play after that.. Argh, I gotta finish this or else I won't be able to play the new episode tomorrow. Stay strong, Lapis. Weren't these two people based off of the great British baking show hosts? I love that show. And now I'm craving cake. Ugh I don't wanna fight in there, don't you know that I suck at fighting? Argh. I wanna read some fic now. Horrifying, hm? I know exactly what I'm gonna do... Okay well that was definitely PG-13 We're gonna forget that ever happened. Heh. *coughs* Hmm.. I'm gonna choose "please don't hit me". RADAR! PUT A SHIRT ON! You're a CHild! Well I just deleted all of the commentary after this so.. *insert distant screeching* Ooo Radar's feet I feel mildly bad about that.. LEVEL SIX HUNDRED?! Boy I don't have TIME for that! Wait WHAT?! Sweet J E S U S. AAA WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!! *panicked screaming* Aaaaaand now I'm dead. Darn. Okay... Oh my gosh that golemn death scene! I smell some foreshadowing.. Romeo.. Death by water? I should keep my mouth shut. That was sick, man. There's MORE?! That's it, I want this to END. Wow that attention to detail.. Me and my darn Romeo-loving-heart. There has to be SOME type of redemption. They could do so much with him... Tbh my friends think I'm crazy because of how I like Romeo but ARGH I like villains, okay?! "Just kids" just started playing INSIDE THE CABIN and now I wanna flip onto Romeo's bed and cry. NGHHH MY FEELS!!!!!!!!!! The music just synced up perfectly. *sigh* I relate to Petra too much.. I want to burst out crying now, this hit too close to home! Petra has never been my favorite character but I can relate to her on a spiritual level. Man I came to have a good time and now I'm feeling personally attacked. AND THIS SAD MUSIC ISN'T HELPING Potato451? Hmm Potato backwards is Otatop. Top? Ota.. Obsidian? Top? The top? Top of the world? The sky? I'm probably taking this way too outta context. OUCH. ma feels. ... Just kids. IS SHE CRYING?! OH MY GOD CAN I ALSO CRY???? Wait this is changing my story? Oh god what have I done? <<later>> Hello, Xara, darling. What exactly did she "repair"? Have a bed, forget my hypocrisy. Wait.. where did she go? FIGHTING argh. Wow I'm alive. Hey Jack. Oh yeh I was gonna go back and save his eye. ..can I do that? I hope that wouldn't corrupt my save file. Okay.. Oh no radar or Fred's people? Radar... I'll see you on the other side. I have a bad feeling about leaving him. But it's his time to shine, and I won't take it from him. The order's temple.. WHO DARES GIVE ME THESE F E E L S?! Nurm just jumped into Jack's arms, everything is going swell- *sees Beacontown* Oh fuuuuu WAIT NO DONT YOU DARE CUT OFF RIGHT NOW!!! Oh my gosh it's Jack's lament. 50% 50% on the scavenger deal, hm. 51% won? That contest was easy. 32% promised to stay with Petra 50% on giving Xara her bed 51% took Fred's friends MMM JACK YOUR BEAUTIFUL VOICE. I listen to that song everyday. LUKAS NOOOOOOO N O NOPE NOOOOOOOOOO LUKASSSSSSSSSSS ARGHHHHHGHHHHHHG I'm lucky that the next episode comes out in 22 hours, wow I'm late. Toodle loo until tomorrow, dears!

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #excuse me I'm gonna go cry now #lapis talks

18 notes · View notes

cooperhewitt · 7 years

Text

Fascinating Rhythms: Music of the Jazz Age

James Saltzman is on faculty at the Manhattan School of Music. In conjunction with the exhibition The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s, Saltzman paired thirty exhibition objects with musical selections from that landmark period in American music. Read about his creative reasoning, and scroll down for the full playlist of object and musical pairings.

Painting, George Gershwin at Piano, 1926; Painted by William Auerbach-Levy (American, born Belarus, Imperial Russia, 1889–1964); oil on canvas; H x W x D (framed): 114 × 139.7 × 3.8 cm (44 7/8 in. × 55 in. × 1 1/2 in.) H x W (unframed): 101 × 126.4 cm (39 3/4 × 49 3/4 in.); Lent by Museum of the City of New York. Gift of Max D. Levy, 1967, 67.109; 76.2016.3

The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s is a monumental, multi-media exhibit. With more than 400 examples of interior and industrial design, decorative art, jewelry, fashion, architecture, and film, the challenge of pairing thirty of these objects with music from 1918 to 1934 was an invigorating project. The first task was to limit the magnitude of the project, and to ultimately decide which objects could be paired with classic jazz recordings. One issue was that there is not always an obvious, direct connection between design from the Jazz Age and the music of the same time period. In many instances, the connections would be coincidental or abstract. More often, pairing the objects with music that was evocative of the time period would ultimately create some fascinating parallels. In a few cases, however, specific recordings were obvious, such as the sheet music for “Black and Tan Fantasy,” the painting George Gershwin at Piano, or the drawing of Josephine Baker by Paul Colin. In those instances, the musical pairings were straightforward. Black and Tan Fantasy would need to be paired with Duke Ellington and Bubber Miley’s programmatic work. The Gershwin painting worked well with “Rhapsody In Blue,” as it might be his most iconic work. The Josephine Baker drawing was paired with her recording of “Bye Bye Blackbird,” which is a shining example of her music from the 1920s. The Savoy Cocktail Book was yet another effortless pairing, so I chose to use “Stompin’ at the Savoy,” a 1934 recording by Chick Webb and His Orchestra.

Selecting many of the other objects was not so straightforward. Responding to the objects using the history of the 1920s and the evocative nature of the music helped to illuminate their creative synergies. For the Mural Panels for the Ziegfeld Theatre, The Joy of Life: Duke Ellington’s composition, “East St. Louis Toodle-Oo.” Ellington’s composition was recorded in 1927, and the Ziegfeld Theatre opened in that same year. That connection seemed exemplary!

Two Mural Panels For The Ziegfeld Theatre, The Joy of Life, 1927; Designed by Joseph Urban (American, 1872–1933); oil on canvas; H x W (overall): 518.5 × 729 × 1.6 cm (17 ft. 1/8 in. × 23 ft. 11 in. × 5/8 in.) The Collection of Richard H. Driehaus, Chicago; 49.2016.1

The Orchestra Bracelet needed to be matched with an important jazz orchestra from the 1920s, but which one? After careful consideration, Fletcher Henderson was chosen. His group first began performing at the Club Alabam on West 44th Street in New York in 1922. Later, the group moved to the Roseland Ballroom, which was becoming one of the most prominent ballrooms, not only in New York City, but the entire country. “The Stampede” was one of his more influential recordings, and it features a young Coleman Hawkins soloing.

New World Radio is one of my favorite pieces in the exhibit. The radio had a profound impact on jazz in the 1920s and 1930s. Duke Ellington was very fortunate to not only perform at The Cotton Club six nights a week, but also broadcast nationwide via the National Broadcasting Company (NBC). “Harlem River Quiver” features the Ellington Orchestra during their tenure at The Cotton Club from 1927–1931.

Joseph Stella’s oil painting Brooklyn Bridge just begged to be paired with music from the Jazz Age! The painting is absolutely engaging, powerful, and abstract. Stella’s painting immediately brought to mind “Weather Bird” by Louis Armstrong and Earl Hines. This duet performance showcases a masterful conversation between two master musicians that were redefining jazz vocabulary in Chicago during the tail end of the Jazz Age. While this piece is certainly not from Brooklyn, to my mind it was the quintessential choice to be paired with the Stella painting. The painting is abstract and somewhat avant-garde for the time period. “Weather Bird” was also deemed to be too avant-garde by record executives, and they subsequently delayed the release of the recording for until 1930 for that reason!

In some cases, a sense of humor directed some of the musical pairings. In the case of Donald Deskey’s painted wooden Wastebasket, the piece matched up well with Jack Teagarden and His Orchestra’s 1934 recording of “Junk Man.” Coupling Deskey’s Wastebasket with this recording from 1934 frankly had me laughing out loud! The recording is a fabulous example from the time period, showcasing Teagarden with Benny Goodman, Art Tatum, and other influential jazz musicians.

Wastebasket, 1928; Designed by Donald Deskey (American, 1894–1989); wood, paint, silver leaf; H x W x D: 34.9 × 34.9 × 22.5 cm (13 3/4 × 13 3/4 × 8 7/8 in.); Jacqueline Loewe Fowler; 71.2016.2

There are strong examples of French influence throughout the exhibit, and, during the Jazz Age, musicians such as Sidney Bechet, Josephine Baker, and additional members of La Revue Nègre were performing at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées and other locations. This led to a relationship between Paris and leading jazz musicians from the United States. Using this historical information, I was able to match up objects from the exhibit such as Clarinval’s Le Feu with Sidney Bechet’s recording of “Maple Leaf Rag,” Poiret’s Juin textile with Bechet’s “I’ve Found A New Baby,” or Lalique’s vase Tourbillons with “Dinah” by the Quintette of the Hot Club of France.

Another interesting object was the Scarab belt buckle owned by Linda (Mrs. Cole) Porter. Cole Porter was a prolific composer from New York in the 1920s. Knowing that Mrs. Cole Porter owned this belt buckle fascinated me! The piece was coupled with James P. Johnson’s recording of “What Is This Thing Called Love?” Cole Porter wrote this piece in 1929, and Johnson’s recording was done in 1930. Being able to extend the object pairing with a historic recording of Porter’s composition by James P. Johnson was too exciting to pass up!

The brochure, New York American: The Way to Reach the Moderns, practically screamed at me as I began deciding which objects to work with. Naturally, James P. Johnson’s “You’ve Got To Be Modernistic” felt perfect! Along with his recording of “Carolina Shout,” Johnson’s recording of “You’ve Got To Be Modernistic” showcases why he is the father of Harlem Stride piano. Harlem Stride piano playing evolved out of ragtime, with the left hand playing an alternation of a bass note on beats one and three and a chord on beats two and four. The right hand typically performed inventive melodies that were often virtuosic.

Blues, 1929; Archibald J. Motley Jr. (American, 1891–1981); oil on canvas; 36 × 42 in. (91.4 × 106.7 cm); Collection of Mara Motley, MD, and Valerie Gerrard Browne; 57.2016.1

Blues, the painting by Archibald Motley Jr., captures the essence of not only the blues, but also the excitement of a black-and-tan club from the 1920s. Since Ellington’s “Black and Tan Fantasy” had to go with the sheet music for the work, I opted to use “Lost Your Head Blues” by Bessie Smith. Smith was known as the “Empress of the Blues,” and she is heard on this recording with Fletcher Henderson on piano and Joseph Smith (who was also Henderson’s first choice instead of Louis Armstrong) on cornet.

The New Yorker (Jazz) Punch Bowl, 1931; Designed by Viktor Schreckengost (American, 1906–2008); USA; glazed, molded earthenware with sgraffito design; H x Diam: 29.9 x 42.2 cm (11 3/4 x 16 5/8 in.) Diam (foot): 17.5 cm (6 7/8 in.); Gift of Mrs. Homer Kripke; 1980-21-7

There are numerous other pairings between the objects in The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s, such as Edgar Brandt’s Firescreen with Mary Lou Williams’s “Night Life.” Both pieces draw you in hypnotically. The New Yorker (Jazz) punch bowl was paired with another Ellington composition, “The Mooche.” This piece was the Duke Ellington Orchestra’s theme song for many years, and it was recorded around the time that his band was performing at the Cotton Club. Additionally, considering how often the color blue appears in Ellington’s writing, the parallel between the blue and black colors of the punch bowl and his writing revealed a common thread.

Curating Fascinating Rhythms: Music of the Jazz Age to coincide with The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s proved to be a stimulating venture. It is my sincere hope that you will be able to explore the exhibition and the plethora of music from 1918–34, and delight in the combinations!

Explore the musical pairings:

Textile, Le Feu (Fire), 1925 / “Maple Leaf Rag,” Sidney Bechet and his New Orleans Feetwarmers (1932)

The New Yorker (Jazz) Punch Bowl, 1931 / “The Mooche,” Duke Ellington (1928)

Sheet Music, Black and Tan Fantasy, 1927 / “Black and Tan Fantasy,” Duke Ellington (1927)

Cigarette Holder, 1932 / “Jazznocracy,” Jimmie Lunceford (1934)

Evening Dress and Underslip, 1926 / “Back Water Blues,” Bessie Smith and James P. Johnson (1927)

Orchestra Bracelet, ca. 1930 / “The Stampede,” Fletcher Henderson and His Orchestra (1926)

New World Radio, 1933 / “Harlem River Quiver,” Duke Ellington and his Orchestra (1928)

Door with Handle (France). 1925–26 / “Moten Swing,” Bennie Moten’s Kansas City Orchestra (1932)

Brochure, New York American: The Way to Reach the Moderns, 1920s / “You’ve Got To Be Modernistic,” James P. Johnson (1930)

Drawing, Textile Design: The Enchanted Isle of Beautiful Sounds, ca. 1923 / “The Creeper,” Duke Ellington and his Kentucky Club Orchestra (1926)

Muse With Violin Screen, 1930 / “Beale Street Blues,” Lang-Venuti Orchestra (1931)

Drawing, Study for Maximum Mass Permitted by the 1916 New York Zoning Law, Stage 4, 1922 / “Sugar Foot Stomp,” Fletcher Henderson and His Orchestra (1925)

Wastebasket, 1928 / “Junk Man,” Jack Teagarden and His Orchestra (1934)

Three-paneled Screen, ca. 1928 / “West End Blues,” Louis Armstrong and His Hot Five (1928)

Coverlet, “Electric” Pattern, 1930 / “Handful of Keys,” Fats Waller (1929)

Brooklyn Bridge, 1919–20 / “Weather Bird,” Louis Armstrong and Earl Hines (1928)

Drawing, Carpet Design: Still Life with Musical Instruments, Radio City Music Hall, New York, NY, 1932 / “From Monday On,” Bix Beiderbecke & Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra (1928)

Painting, George Gershwin at Piano, 1926 / “Rhapsody In Blue,” Paul Whiteman and His Concert Orchestra, featuring George Gershwin (1924)

Textile, Juin, 1930 / “I’ve Found A New Baby,” Sidney Bechet and his New Orleans Feetwarmers (1932)

Textile, Americana Print: Rhapsody, 1925 / “Rhapsody In Blue,” Paul Whiteman and His Concert Orchestra, featuring George Gershwin (1924)

Book, The Savoy Cocktail Book, 1930 / “Stompin’ at the Savoy,” Chick Webb and His Orchestra (1934)

Scarab Belt Buckle, 1926 / “What Is This Thing Called Love?” James P. Johnson (1930)

Firescreen, ca. 1925 / “Nightlife,” Mary Lou Williams (1930)

Tourbillons [Whirlwinds] Vase, 1926 / “Dinah,” Quintette of the Hot Club of France (1934)

Vase, Rhythm, 1929 / “Hotter Than That,” Louis Armstrong and His Hot Five (1927)

Two Mural Panels For The Ziegfeld Theatre, The Joy of Life, 1927 / “East St. Louis Toodle-Oo,” Duke Ellington (1927)

Blues, 1929 / “Lost Your Head Blues,” Bessie Smith (1926)

Ten-Panel Screen, Renards (Foxes), ca. 1921–22 / “Cakewalking Babies From Home,” Red Onion Jazz Babies (1924)

Drawing, Josephine Baker / Columbia, 1930 / “Bye Bye Blackbird,” Josephine Baker (1927)

Poster, Freddy Johnson and His Harlemites, 1934 / “Harlem Bound,” Freddy Johnson (1933)

These objects can been seen in the exhibition The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s, now on view through August 20, 2017.

from Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum http://ift.tt/2qMqiYg via IFTTT

#cooper hewitt #design conversations

27 notes · View notes

keeps-ache · 24 days

Text

hmmm. the vibes. they are strange

#just me hi #hhhggghhhh #so many things don't make sense.. ouh....#//i gotta make food in a minute. the choice is between beans and corn !#beans could be nice.. corn is great but i don't know if i want to go through the whole buttering and salting.. butter is not my favorite lo #most milk things aren't ! cheese is on some thin ice i'm telling you hhfsh #//also i've been having these typos where it's like a verbal mistake #like you might say 'graph' instead of 'grab'#that keeps happening!! i think it's cuz everything is stored as sounds and i'm not paying a lot of attention while i'm typing lol #//speaking of sounds i was talking with flame about telepaths and i think it'd be a lot more interesting if they were less soul-readers and #more electric-pulse readers that can translate them like a language. i think it'd be neat :>#like they could read a telegram before it got somewhere yknow?#/not that telegrams are used anymore. but i think that's a real shame! sure we have texting and stuff but telegrams were so cool !!#i also think we should bring back the pony express. it would be fun lol :3 #//i still have to make food.. wah....#guess i'll go do that then #refried beans + a couple tablespoons of water + generous amount of cumin + a puff of garlic and it's really nice :D #cuuuuuuuuuuuminnnnnn my belooooooooveeeeed ♩#//OH i think i'm gonna try using bl3nder again too !!#cuz i want to learn how to animate with it so !! :33 #apollo said he'd teach me so i guess i'll be attempting that later if i can remember #RIP my computer though she's not gonna like what happens next hghbsfhvh #//okay now i'm goooinggg i'm gonna makes Beans #toodles. ciao. adios. bye :3

0 notes

ts-2020-olympics · 4 years

Text

Episode 12 - “Jacob’s Squirrel Brain Took Over” - Nicole

youtube

Alright, so for starters, Karen was voted out last round, everything worked out for us newbies, but really did not expect Karen to get that many votes. If I knew Karen was getting that manh votes, I would have informed Tommy about the Karen vote too. Definitely thought was going to be a closer vote though, then also had that glass idol played so everyone knows who voted who. Now for this round, not sure on what plans are, but I think Nicole and Kevin are my biggest threats, as I find they both have a fair amount of connections, and are also decent in challenges. Only thing is that, could be tough getting the votes to get rid of either of them this round, do it might have to wait, just don't want to wait too long. Anyways, hopefully I survive and make final 11!

Screw them all! At this point I'm a solo person I don't trust anyone, but this game makes you have to trust people so I'm going with my intuition and instead of thinking long-term at the moment I need to think what will save me this round and at this point I believe the newbies will be reluctant to vote another newbie out, the second swap Miraitowa are working together, and Kevin has a lotta pre-game relationships which is why his name even though it was thrown out died really quick last tribal. This leaves Jacob, Nicole, and Myself and obviously I don't want to go home and between Jacob and Nicole I think Jacob has better interests in-store for me plus getting rid of Nicole gets rid of another winner so if I do survive this round it's better and more people voiced to me worry about Nicole being a threat. I do realize I'll be putting the second swap Sonkei in the minority but at this point I don't care it's all about self-preservation and I still have a HUGE chance at going home tonight so as long as it ain't me I'm fine with voting wherever.

By the grace of our Lord And Savior Jordan Pines, I’m still here and not in as bad as a spot as I really could be. I voted with the majority, Jacob’s squirrel brain took over the reigns of his big brain and he didn’t. Jordan used a vote revealer on all of us and we all got a fun little surprise when Jacob voted for Sammy. Now my gut told me not to use my advantage last round and it was right. This round it’s a little more complicated. I worry about Jacob if I go, he really is a good ally to have because he is (seemingly) more loyal as the rounds go on. Sammy and I have mended a little bit of trust. I’ve decided maybe I’d vote for him at the end but maybe not. He’d have to be sitting next to Stoner and Eve or Sarah and Emma , some mix of that to really get my vote. Anyone else and I’m voting them. I really hope Darcy gets to the end with Kevin that’d be a good f2 scenario. I’d vote for Darcy, I think most people would vote for Kevin. I’m not even entertaining the idea I get to the end. It just seems like too impossible of a possibility at this point. But, tides my change and who knows. Either way, back to the game and tonight’s tribal. I’m going to try to get an idea of where the votes are going. They might split between Jacob and I but it’s early in the day. If they need me for the vote idk what I’m gonna do. I really truly have no clue. What I could do is try to get a lot of votes on me, skip tribal and leave them scrambling, when they scramble the majority is already solid and they have to decide who their counter vote is. I feel bad because I want to work with Kevin badly but our connection is dimming just a bit in the midst of I think, both of us finding better paths to the end. I think voting out Karen kind of shook up our plans so, I don’t know. I still hope if I can’t pull out a win he can. Check back later when more is happening, toodles.

I saw a hawk today. It was a fat hawk. It was a good day.

Bro fuck Nicole

youtube

This round, Basically I think Nicole is a clown, i dont wanna speak to her, and if she idols someone out, BYE like shes going next week anyways, might as well pass ur idol onto someone who can use it, its my fault you're ass is built like a fucking HOUSE. BRICK. MOTHER. FUCKING. WALL. I just want her to go, and i wanna wave bye as she leaves this island, BUT SHE CAN IDOL I DONT CARE BECAUSE I KNOW SHES NOT WINNING THIS GAME P E R I O D. shes gone next week anyways

I just set off a bomb oh my goodness. I did not want Nicole to go it doesn’t make sense for me to lose Nicole over someone like Jacob or Kevin or Tommy or Darcy right now so of course I told her name was going around. I’m not gonna compromise my agenda for someone else’s, not if I really see a benefit in keeping Nicole and I do. Now everyone is fighting and no one knows it’s all cause I set off a catalyst this round. I’m worried I may be over extending myself strategically and it might catch up with me, but I’m not gonna stop till it does, this is my game to lose and I’m having a blast!

I am trying to balance my allegiance to nicole while she's on her deathbed so she doesnt blow up at me and expose me while also carrying for this newborn baby that is my allegiance to caeleb/sammy/eve who i want to work with long term but i simply cant just drop nicole, my full grown rebellious child, because i have a new baby? you know, like i love all my children but some need more attention at different times in their life. I just hope that I can survive this vote and really be able to distance myself from nicole even though shes STILL gonna be here the next round. But after that she is pretty dead in the water unless she wins immunity, which she found an advantage in so thats GREAT, i really have no idea whats gonna happen right now

Sparknotes: I’m so pissed that Nicole would ruin my game like that. It’s a game I get it, and I get that she wants to ruin another persons game on the way out. Caeleb is playing an idol on me even tho i don’t think I need it. Eve is amazing. Kevin is amazing. Jordan is amazing. Caeleb is amazing. Jacob is okay but this game just don’t trust him anymore. Emma is sweet. I don’t talk too much with tommy Darcy Sarah or stoner. I’m just over this round and frustrated. Why me? Nicole stirred the pot but she’s the one getting burned.

*this is a wrap up of my last confessional that I’m writing during tribal bc I’m not there* So I used the tribal skip and honestly I’m not even happy about it. I tried to take heat off of Kevin and Jacob by saying stuff about Sammy and Eve but they made it so personal. This game isn’t fun because of them, every time I try to do something they go absolutely too far. Bunch of bullies. I think it hurts because personally I always felt they were alright but now? I don’t know. Just rude. I have no faith in the rounds ahead, and if I go it’ll probably at least I won’t have to try to claw my way into a somewhat okay position. I’m just tired all around I really wish Eve’s ego wasn’t so pronounced that they didn’t think they were actually doing something by attacking my mental health because you know what? I’m not doing well. But I still like to play these games as much as everyone else and I don’t think mental illness has to be called into question. It’s a fucking online game for 40 dollars, get your head out of your ass.

#zestypowerfuluniqueflavorfulhealthy #confessionals

0 notes