tumblr in my browser isn't working for whatever reason :(
anyways, to like the five followers of @court-of-justice , do you think i can have a guest or two show up in The Courtroom for a bit? i have a few characters from Chasing Death that i want to mess around with
The smoke from your lungs
hangs heavy and acrid in the car
You roll the stem perfectly
showing off how your the professional here
Eventually, it’s in my hand
and I’m back to ignoring the TV again
I shouldn’t be here
and yet,
Here I am
It’s impossible to get clean
when I keep falling out with the bad guys
And we pump our selves full
that there’s barely any room for the blood in my veins
Is this going to be the way I go?
Killed by a powder?
And yet, I can’t stop
An addict will hit rock bottom
the minute they are willing to sell themselves
When there’s nobody left to steal from
And our own possessions are long gone
Traded away an entire life, for a couple grams
enough to at least get through tonight
We cough in unison and our conversation moves faster
as the whole room becomes a blur
Coming up with a thousand projects
starting this one and that one
really believing we’ll see one to fruition
but it’s another couple spins on the stem
and now were looking out the window
that tree wasn’t always in the lawn, was it?
And you shrug
Paranoia sets in
And I ask you for a downer
because I’m freaking out
Tan powder on the mirror
and I walk the line with my nose
Balance is quick
and even though I know it won’t last
I still feel relieved
with false hope
Ambrose Carter (he/him) is a man who was "blessed" with immortality at birth due to his mother's good deeds (so that way she never has to see her son die and he can continue on their legacy of goodwill for generations to come and blah blah blah). Also, he has a little blue jay that follows him around.
As time passes, however, Ambrose starts to see this immortality as less of a blessing and more of a curse. After his last best friend passes (i haven't decided on the cause yet), he has decided he's had enough of this whole living forever ordeal and tries to, as one might put it, search for death. And he does eventually find it... but not in the ideal way.
Instead of leaving this mortal plane, he instead bumps into a wannabe goth who looks like he's asking for heatstroke and oddly smells of flowers (and has been to one too many parties imo). This man(?) happens to be Death incarnate (any, but i tend to use he/they/it) (hey, you've met this guy before)! Yippee! I imagine, once Ambrose processes that this weirdo with the sunglasses is Mr. The Grim Reaper themself, their conversation goes a little something like this:
"Why have you been avoiding me!?"
"I don't avoid anyone, hon. Though, I do occasionally ghost people!"
And then Death cracks up at its own joke because it's just like that.
Anyways, come to find out that Death can't do shit about Ambrose's "blessing", so the two try to find someone or something who can. Shenanigans ensue.
And that is all of what I have planned for this very much WIP character for an even more WIP story! Feel free to ask me any questions about it! :D
What is love? How do you define it? How do we understand rejection?Why are you talking about this, about gay love, what makes it so different for you? The Europeans went around the world removing any love they did not see as valuable, just as they did to people; non heterosexual, indigenous, black or brown. It is interesting you write this after telling someone they are not normal and crazy. Not normal after you canceled on them 3 times in one week because you were tired or hard at work but had time to meet some guy from online to fuck. Crazy because they were upset by this and instead of shutting down, they started firing off texts and emails because you refused to talk to them. At least they did not shut down, rather they expressed themselves as a way to work through their feelings! Rejection, no? Your interpretation of their comment enslaved their feelings to make you a victim, a rhetoric still at play all over the world toward black and brown folks. After having your family enslaved for over 400 years, their language and culture taken, do you think anything about them would ever be normal or whatever the opposite of crazy may be? Do you think when they try to express their actions to you and your response is to laugh in their face, dismiss them and to play victim. Is this normal or crazy? You are so critical against systems of power, oppression and injustice but when placed in that position, you are less critical of yourself. A sort of narcissistic approach allowing one to turn a blind-eye. My insistence is the outcome of my resilience, my my protest for something, my strength - fight to have what I am entitled to and what I ultimately want: intimate relationship and love! At least I have not given up or closed myself off to that.