May 9, 2019
@tateblog
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from China
@tateblog
Arms crossed tightly over the women’s chest. She stood a good ten feet away from the other spirit. Still not feeling comfortable even being in the same room as him. It had been years and the two had never spoken. Even when Vivien was alive, she’d never spoken with Tate. There was so many things she wanted to say, yell, scream at him but she kept calm.
“Don’t you ever get tired, of sitting around and waiting from something that might never happen?” She asked, noticing that he was watching Violet helping Moira.
“It’s...almost sad to watch you. Part of my thinks that I should be enjoying this, but another part of me feels sorry for you.”
| @tateblog starter |
Tateblog / THE PURGE ALT. UNI.
The city of Los Angeles already had a history when it came to civilian violence and social chaos long before the TWENTY-EIGHT AMENDMENT passed nearly ten years prior today. Yet, despite its superficially normalized acceptance, the air felt dense. The overall mood and tension grew heavy as the hour approached.
The experimental sanction of an annual civic tradition, one of high controversy initiated in Staten Island, began every year on March 21st, 7 p.m. Its duration of twelve continuous hours where all crime, including murder, is legalized and without penalty to be persecuted once the twelve hours were over. No emergency services available, and government officials being off limits (along with a list of large scale weaponry forbidden through the night).
Tate knew he had more than enough time to get home safely before the sanctioned night began. Every year was the same thing, since he’d started high school. He’d go home and waited out the night. Year after year growing into awareness of the day’s brutality. Without his mother’s knowledge, he’d acquired multiple firearms, currently hidden in his bedroom; handguns, shotguns, knives, and what he considered enough ammunition.
Walking down the street he began to see the usual sights during this day. There were always running to stores to gather last minute forgotten items, majorly emergency kits, filling their car tanks, or things to barricade their homes. He could point them out as they rushed into the store and yelled at each other on their way back to their car. This night made people afraid. A fear he understood but had become comfortable with. Though he’d been terrified during his first conscientious years of living through the night, now the terror was outweighed by disgust.
There was a vibration from the inside of his pant pocket, and it took him a moment before he acted upon the realization that it was his phone receiving an incoming call. A simple glance to the screen he noted multiple text messages he hadn’t been aware of getting, and the call was from Nim. That girl from school he’d hang out with now and then. Apparently, he guessed, they were friends.
Admittedly, he was surprised as he expected the call to be from his mother hurrying home. The ache at the back of his neck and the tension across his shoulders lifted as he slid his thumb across the screen. “Hello?”
ℙ𝕦𝕣𝕘𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕪
T
he only day of the year where Nim felt completely uneasy and on edge. That morning her mother had begged her to stay home, play sick but Nim felt that was over excessive. The purge didn’t start until later that evening and she would have plenty of time to arrive back home safe and sound. As the day grew to a close the bells rang and the hallways flooded with students. Nim gave half hearted smiles and small waves to her friends as they passed. No one ever really talked about what was going down tonight, no one except those who participated. Talking about it had been banned from the school grounds but there were still those few who’d boast about their plans in quiet whispers and hushed tones.
Backpack dangling from her shoulder she stepped past the last double doors into the growing heat of L.A. It looked like a normal day, if not for the growing tension in her body and the twisting of her stomach. Fingers fumbled momentarily as she pulled her keys from her jeans pocket. With a click her car unlocked and she threw the bag into the passenger seat and slipped inside. A fifteen minuet ride and she’d be home, where her family would have dinner and then retreat to the basement. Her family wasn’t privileged enough to have one of those high tech security systems but they made do with what they had. That of course consisted of a reinforced bulletproof basement door and not much else.
The car burst to life as the teen latched her seat belt with a click. The radio blasted some rock station as she backed out of the parking lot and headed toward the main road. She’d avoid the highways tonight, traffic would be even worse than normal and no way would she chance waisting time. The world outside was quiet chaos, the sidewalks and streets littered with two types of people. There were those Nim called the procrastinators, people who’d waited till the last minuet to gather needed supplies. Then there were the give-no-shits, the people who were either participating and waiting for the storm to hit or honestly just didn’t care about the situation at all.
Half way home her music was interrupted by yet another announcement, a reminder of what tonight would bring. As if she or anyone else needed a reminder. Mixed in with the rushed speech was a constant dinging coming from the dash. Eyes shifted quickly from the road to the blinking red light just above the steering wheel. Her check engine light had begun to flash like a red stop light. Nim’s palms began to sweat as she quickly reached over and turned off the radio. “What the fuck!” There was no reason for her car to have issues, she’d just had it checked at the dealer last week, everything had checked out fine. “Just a few more miles” she pleaded as her stomach sank and her heart began to increase its pace.
The car stalled. Nim was forced to pull to the side of the road where she sat in a parking spot with her flashers on. “NO..no no no fuck FUCK!” Her hands hit the steering wheel in frustration, fingers reached for the ignition and tried again and again only to no avail. Panicked she picked up her cell and started swiping through her contacts, finding Tate’s name she pressed it and then lifted her phone to her ear and waited. The males voice came over the small device and she let out a breath, having not realized she’d been holding it. “Tate, listen, I need your help. My car fucking stalled, I can’t get it up and running. I’m on 4th across from that small little bakery. What time is it...” pauses pulls the phone away and see’s it’s already around 5pm, “shit. Ok. Can you meet me?”
She wasn’t sure what he could do but maybe he had more knowledge about cars than she did? Maybe she wanted the company, someone she knew to help her calm down and think straight. Could she walk the rest of the way home? Not alone, people were unpredictable and even more so the few hours prior to the purge. She felt sick, god was she going to throw up? No... no she had to keep it together, show fear and she’d attract unwanted attention. Speaking of which, Nim quickly pushed her flashers off, if anyone knew she was broke down she’d be a target. Even after Tate had hung up she kept the phone to her ear and talked to herself so others would think she simply pulled over to answer the phone. Still her blue eyes darted out the windows watching everyone who was walking within the area.
“ Sorry’s are easy, what about taking responsibility for what you’ve DONE? ”
@tateblog like’d for a small starter!
❝ READ MY DREAMS, SIGMUND. SQUIRT ‘EM WITH the sperm of symbols and make ‘em grow . show me how different we are from , say , rabid dogs or old tigers full of BAD BLOOD . show me the man hiding between my wet dreams .
SANITY: you can go through your whole life telling yourself that life is logical , life is prosaic , life is sane . above all , SANE . and i think it is . i’ve had a lot of time to think about that .
I REALLY BELIEVE THAT. i think ; therefore i am . ❞
❝ i’m not gonna look at those pictures, ❞ her nose instead remains BURIED in her magazine, a copy of seventeen not featuring one MISS ANGELA HAYES.
❝ put them all back before they tell me i’m going to DIE in a week or some SHIT. ❞
@tateblog / liked for a starter !
dolores, pushing constance down the stairs: oh it SEEMS like tate is my child now ? by law of finder’s keepers LOSERS weepers ? hm.
@tateblog
▌█ ∵ 📚 ∵ █ ▌ Water bottle being refilled as hands drummed against counter. Classical music played throughout new house while parents were out for dinner. It hadn’t been too long since they had moved in and it was her first day completely alone. Turning around jumping slightly as gaze set on a stranger before nearly dropping bottle hands reached for phone. ❝ How did you get in here? I had the doors locked so unless you are a master lock pick you couldn’t have gotten inside.❞ Although she didn’t remember exactly if she had after going to see if her new chess set had been left by the mail box, which it had. Hands carefully holding phone eyebrows furrowing as she gave him a careful once over. ❝ You have thirty seconds to answer before I call the police.❞
@tateblog SC