#Because they had a mutual admiration society going on until she passed away in the 60s

[wellpresseddaisy]

My dad just got super excited about the concept of a Celtic Republic.

Tumblr just made an 81-year-old man's day.

#He is an Irish citizen through his grandmother #He did it to honor her and her memory #Because they had a mutual admiration society going on until she passed away in the 60s #She's one person I would have liked to have met #Because she sounds like she was a hoot

[kuriquinn]

Dear Mr. Kuri, thank you so much for your recent post concerning the young artist who was effectively censored from sharing his/her/their art on a particular subject (just... so sad). I was hoping to get your thoughts on how adults might navigate interactions with minors in this space. Specifically, extending our support for their work w/out necessarily... engaging with them. I know this sounds crazy stupid but before tumblr I wasn't really active on any social media and I had no idea (cont'd)

there were so many users under the age of 16 on this site. I've even come to learn that some identified users I had interacted with early on were as young as 13, and as someone in my 30's - tbh that scared the shit out of me. I totally agree that someone that young and impressionable would be crushed by the kind of criticism that poor artist faced, and would likely never create or share again... to their detriment. The thing is though, I feel really hesitant following any creator (cont'd)

that isn't 18 or older... What are your thoughts on following/reblogging/interacting with minors in fandom? I fully agree that they need support, especially from older users who don't care what some stranger on the internet has to say... but I just feel... like I don't know how to go about that the right way. I really REALLY don't want minors on my blog at all... sorry to bother you with this, just wondering how you'd suggest handling this. I didn't comment on the post bc I didn't (cont'd)

want to risk that young artist reading my inquiry and feeling even more alienated. As always, thank you for your time and insight. - Birk

I may go a bit off-topic here, but let me give this a try:

I think in, In the end, it all comes down to communication and mutual respect.

Adults have this pervading mentality that until a child hits 18, they need to be infantilized and sheltered, but once they pass that magical number, then it’s a free for all. So, for eighteen years, it’s all about sticking a Potemkin village in front of any idea, person or situation that a child might find uncomfortable (read: they don’t like the feelings it gives them; very different from actual harmful ideas/persons/situations). Then, these sheltered almost-adults enter public spaces and expect society to keep doing that…when it turns out that’s not how it works, they become toxic.

This is how poisonous movements like purity-culture develop online, or new fans who demonize older fans and adults as being perverts for enjoying the very same pastimes they have.

For those of us interacting with these people, the automatic reaction is to “cancel” that person, thereby alienating and isolating them even more in their bad behavior. Instead of taking the time to talk with and try to show them through actions that the world isn’t limited to what they know.

As adults in fandom, we know that a large majority of the fandom is younger, because we were them once. We were that 12-year-old discovering fanfiction existed or sharing drawings we made of our original Harry Potter characters or quoting our favorite movies and televisions ad infinite. We got shit for it in real life, so we had to create spaces of our own online.

We, in effect, built fandom so that it would be more welcoming for the generations that came after us. And while a lot of us stick to that unwritten knowledge, as the years pass, a lot more become gatekeepers. They set a standard of what a fan must know or do to be considered a “real” fan, and they’re mean about how they do that.

Is it any wonder that new fans coming in experience this behavior and then jump on the “adults in fandom is creepy” bandwagon?

These new fans coming in, especially tweens and teens, they still live in this false reality where they only get to enjoy themselves and be kids for a limited amount of time, and once they Become Adult they have to give it all up—and can’t figure out why all those old creeps online are still a part of such “childish” things.

That fault lies squarely on our society, which pushes kids from a young age to be thinking of what they want to do when they grow up so they can get out there and start producing, producing, producing for the state and becoming a “useful” member of society.

We as fandom veterans, need to do our best to teach them differently, and that comes right back to my point: communication and mutual respect.

Older fans need to respect newcomers, as much as the new baby fans need to learn to respect their fandom elders. There is no maximum age for fandom; there’s no minimum age, either, although the younger the fan, the more their parents should be keeping an eye out for the truly damaging stuff and teaching their kids how to avoid that stuff on their own.

Now, obviously, people don’t always announce online how old they are (though it does happen more frequently now than when I started writing), but regardless, there should be a certain etiquette to it.

When you interact with someone online, you don’t know if they are 15 or 50. And the way you interact with them shouldn’t change based on knowing their age. We should maintain the same level of respect for the new fans as the older fans.

So, as to how adults might navigate interactions with minors (especially when you know they’re minors)?

Treat them as any other intelligent human being: with respect.

Because how else are they going to learn?

My mom always used to say to us, “I’m not raising children, I’m raising adults,” which basically meant she was teaching us how to be adults. Kids don’t pop out of the womb magically knowing how to interact with the world, they take their cues from the adults that are already there.

Fandom babies learn how to be active participants in fandom from the people who are already there. And they’re more likely to listen to and look up to someone that treats them as a mature and capable being, than someone who dismisses them as too young or too green, or dismisses their knowledge and experience because they haven’t earned their metaphorical stripes.

Remember, a lot of these kids are coming to fandom because they need an outlet. In this age of helicopter parents, this is the only place where they get to be treated as an individual adult-in-the-making instead of the overly protected child or student that must be shielded from the world. A lot of them are trying to figure out how to deal with the horrors that happen to them or around them every day. That 16-year-old girl writing a rape/non-con fic under a pseudonym? She could be exorcising her own demons through the only way she has because no one in her life is listening to her. That 14-year-old writing about homelessness might know more about it than someone twice his age.

Expertise and experience knows no age, and as adults, we need to not fall into the trap of thinking it does. There are some kids out there that have seen and endured more than I can even imagine.

In recent years, there’s been this trend of treating kids like sexless beings until we, the adults, deem them capable of having a sense of sexuality. When the reality is, once kids start puberty, they’re developing that sexuality, and are trying to figure out what it means to them and how to navigate it, and the world. It doesn’t matter if adults are uncomfortable with it, this is what our human biology has decided for us.

And chances are, as much as adults try to curate the world and keep kids from seeing the darker, less safe stuff? They’re already doing it. I saw this when I was teaching, the kids are already accessing and interacting with stuff like sex, drugs, relationships… Whenever a faceless censor tries to block that sort of thing, they find a way around it. Humans are funny like that—we want the things that are kept away from us, whether harmful or not.

It’s our responsibility to help them think critically about what they’re seeing, and teach them to express themselves about it in a respectful manner.

So by all means: follow that amazing artist even if they are only 15. Their age doesn’t negate the fact that they have talent that needs to be nurtured and encouraged. Reblog the images and the fics that strike you, even if you find out the person writing it isn’t 18 yet. Send a shoutout via DM or review or comment to someone that you admire whether you know they’re age or not.

Unless you’re being actively creepy and offensive (and seriously, don’t do that, it’s gross whether the recipient is a minor or not), chances are these creators are desperate for some assurance that the medium they choose to express themselves in is having an effect on people—and that they have the power to make even adults sit up and listen.

So…TL;DR:

When interacting with younger fans, do so with respect. And if they say something problematic, don’t automatically cancel them and write them off as “obviously too young and immature to understand”. They understand more than you think and will seek out their interests whether adults think it’s appropriate or not. That’s how freedom works. But if we’re going to nip bad behavior like purity culture and agism in the bud, we need to start by treating minors in fandom as adults developing their worldview, not as infants to be sheltered.  

#longpost #asks #fandom #content creators #content consumers #reading #writing #online etiquette

[chaoswillfallrpg]

AMIRIA MACNAIR is TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD and a MIXOLOGIST at THE HOPPING POT in CARKITT MARKET. She looks remarkably like MAYA HAWKE and considers herself NEUTRAL. She is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

If you asked Amiria about her early childhood or her father she’d be unable to give you any clear answers. Between what she thought had been real, what her mother had told her and what her older brother, WALDEN MACNAIR had said, Amiria no longer knew what the truth was. What she did know was that her father was never around and whilst she loved her mother dearly, Walden was more of a parent than both ALEXANDER and JOSELINE MACNAIR. Her family of three lived in a fairly large home located in a wizarding village in Dorset, not far from a Muggle town called Wimborne. Whilst there were often Muggles just down the road, Joseline had warned that they were a bad influence and Walden seemed to stay clear of them, so Amiria did too. She adored her older brother, following him everywhere he went and constantly asking to play. Despite Walden being four years older than her, he would never say no, constantly being a gentle giant. She loved him for that. As they got older and Amiria started to find herself, becoming more independent by the day, her stubborn and strong willed personality came out. Instead of following Walden she’d come up with an idea and ask him to accompany her. Looking back on it all, she’s sure Walden was just going along with it all to prevent any arguments. Amiria had a good childhood regardless of the odd dynamics their household had and would never wish to change it. Sometimes she would wonder what it would have been like if their father hadn’t left, but Amiria would shake the idea out of her mind, contempt with her reality.

When Walden left for Hogwarts Amiria found that she had the whole house to herself. Whilst she originally thought it would be exciting, it turned out to be rather lonely. Joseline would leave in the morning and stay out late only to return and ramble on about how great her own life was; how important it was for Amiria to make friends in high places. Unlike Walden, Amiria would simply roll her eyes to that idea. Who cared who she was friends with? All that mattered was that she actually cared for her friends and that they cared for her. In her mind it was always better to have a small group of friends who would stand up for you rather than a large circle who barely knew your name. She’d spend the next four years finding ways to entertain herself, be that sneaking out the house and into the Muggle library in the next town or playing around with a junior potions set that her mother had got for her. As the months passed, Amiria would find herself growing eager for her brother to come home each holiday, to spend time with him like they had when they were younger. But Walden seemed to change with each holiday. He was moodier, less energetic and it seemed as if the light inside him had been snuffed out. Amiria knew that her brother had changed. That he was doing as their mother had asked simply to keep her happy; those around him changing him for the worse. She promised herself she would never follow in his footsteps. That she would never change to suit those around her and instead be true to herself no matter what.

When she was sorted into Slytherin upon arriving at Hogwarts, Amiria instantly knew that making friends might be a challenge. Whilst she appreciated the complement of being labelled as determined and cunning, she did not appreciate being sorted into a house which everyone on the train described as evil. Although she was in the same house as her brother and it was lovely passing him in the common room, she had seen what his fellow Slytherin friends had done to him. Her first instinct was to cross all her classmates off her potential friends list, all except one. SEVERUS SNAPE was a curious boy and whilst he hung around the likes of REGULUS BLACK and JASPER AVERY, she couldn’t help but find herself sitting next to him in potions, a subject which they both adored. She didn’t push her boundaries with him nor did they speak but she hoped that there was a mutual understanding between them that they were friends as they worked on potion assignments together and made an efficient team. Determined to push herself out of her own comfort zone and try new things, she’d skip her own classes only to attend the same class but for the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff group. This is how she met BERTHA JORKINS whom she sat next to in the class and GILDEROY LOCKHART whom she had a healthy argument with before being asked to leave by the professor once noticing that she did not belong there. Amiria would continue to bounce between friendship groups, meeting new people yet refusing to conform to a single clique and whilst many gave her a side eye, she managed to make a few other friends including CARADOC DEARBORN and DEMETRIUS MCLAGGEN.

It was only when she found herself trying out for the quidditch team one year that she met GWENOG JONES and EDGAR BONES, both who were passionate about quidditch and willing to help her learn whilst simultaneously being lovely people. Amiria could not understand how Walden had ended up with such rotten apples as friends when Hogwarts was filled with amazing students. Whilst Amiria did not make the quidditch team, she was given kudos for trying and was continuously invited to parties by Gwenog or Edgar. She’d spend the days before stealing ingredients for the potion storeroom and brewing a mighty strong yet delicious moonshine. Her moonshine was a hit amongst those who were willing to drink at school parties and before long she had a list of orders. She began to spend her nights in the bathroom, brewing away and filling orders. All the hype that her moonshine business got her also attracted unwanted attention, especially from the likes of NARCISSA MALFOY who at first offered friendship but when Amiria turned her down, seemed to suddenly have it out for her. Suddenly Amiria had found her own rotten apples to avoid and the school seemed to light up with red flags, including her own brother. When she approached him asking why he bullied so many students, she could see the physical strain on his face before he answered brutally, in a way that would make their mother proud. Whilst she would always love Walden, it was at this point that she realised that they were on two different paths in life and that they would probably never see eye to eye again.

It was in her final years at Hogwarts where Amiria finally settled down and focused wholeheartedly on her school work. She felt satisfied with her Hogwarts experience as she had tried everything she had wanted to try and met a few amazing people whose company she truly enjoyed. Whilst she didn’t have a best friend or a ‘close circle’, she didn’t mind. She enjoyed her own company and felt like that was perfectly fine. Well, at least that’s how she felt until she laid eyes on PANDORA FORTESCUE. Amiria had no idea what love felt like but she thought that this might be it. Whilst she never acted on her feelings nor would she ever admit them to anyone, they were definitely strong and she continued to admire Pandora from a distance. Since then her heart has pined for someone she could share every moment with. To distract herself so threw herself into her potion textbooks and studied hard for her N.E.W.T.S. Whilst all her friends around her spoke about their potential careers or their auror training acceptances, she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life after school. She did not want to work behind a counter all day selling potions to mundane customers and hating her life. No, she wanted something more exciting where no day was the same as the last. Her mother suggested asking Walden for help and perhaps working in the experimental magic department at the Ministry but she refused. The last thing she wanted to do was give her mother the satisfaction of bending to her will or asking her brother for help. No, she wanted to do this on her own and find something that worked for her, something that made her happy. 

After Hogwarts it wasn’t long until Amiria was couch surfing from one friends apartment to the next. She refused to stay at home with her purist mother whilst she found a place of her own. It was at this point that she saw an opening for a mixologist at the Hopping Pot and she applied for the position. The owner, GABRIELLE BRAITHWAITE was impressed by her own brand, hiring her and offering to buy her recipe. She gladly accepted and began work straight away. What started as a way for her to make money soon became a job that she adored. She’d meet new customers everyday whilst maintaining relationships with frequent drinkers. Her moonshine was now on the menu as a drink that anyone could order and Gabrielle had offered her a room in the Braithwaite flat upstairs. This is how she met ZYRELL BRAITHWAITE, whom she worked with in the bar and BETTY BRAITHWAITE, who worked at The Daily Prophet but would also spend the evenings helping her cousin and Amiria close up. Late one night Amiria was taking out the trash when she overheard a conversation down the back alley. The two men were speaking about a ‘Dark Lord’ and his secret army. Amiria instantly knew that her ears were never meant to hear the conversation and quickly hurried back inside before they noticed her. Normally a conversation like this would slip her mind, but she could have sworn on Merlin’s beard that one of the voices had been none other than Severus Snape. She needed to know more, who was this Dark Lord and what army? It seemed like it was time to pay one of her old friends a visit because whatever it was, it didn’t sound good. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Half-Blood

Pronouns → She/Her

Identification → Cis Female 

Sexuality  → Homosexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin)

Societies → TBD

Family → Alexander MacNair (father), Joseline Garrick (mother), Walden MacNair (brother)

Connections  → Pandora Fortescue (object of affection), Zyrell Braithwaite (friend/colleague), Severus Snape (friend), Bertha Jorkins (friend), Gilderoy Lockhart (friend), Caradoc Dearborn (friend), Demetrius McLaggen (friend), Gwenog Jones (friend), Edgar Bones (friend), Betty Braithwaite (friend), Narcissa Black (adversary), Gabrielle Braithwaite (boss)

Future Information → N/A

AMIRIA MACNAIR IS A LEVEL 5 WITCH.

#amiria macnair #maya hawke #marauders rpg #marauders rp #harry potter rpg #witch #neutral #alleys #carkitt market #the hopping pot #taken #taken witch #taken neutral #taken lgbtqia+

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Episode 11

We open in her magical apartment, shining white walls, CG gears floating like some sort of modern-art chandelier, and images of old scrolls hovering around, old manuscripts or what looks like a tapestry with the word ‘Walpurgis-’ on it. Seems Homura’s working on her (latest) plan to defeat the super-Witch and protect Madoka. One thing that struck me between these episodes is that the last time was probably the closest she’s ever gotten to saving Madoka from Contracting, until the Incubator made a last-minute offer while Homura was distracted fighting Walpurgisnacht. But maybe, just maybe, this time it could work? I mean, Madoka hasn’t Contracted, she knows how much of a dick the Incubator is, and has seen all her other friends die as Magical Girls. Maybe this will be enough to keep her away?

...oh who am I kidding. Madoka’s a Protagonist. She may be meek and scared, especially compared to Alpha Madoka, but when it comes down to it she overrules her fears and does what needs to be done, like when she threw away the chemicals in the warehouse. If she thinks that there’s something that she can do, she’s going to try her best to do it. Ugh. Admirable, but doomed to failure. “Time-traveler, Homura Akemi…” Well, look who it is, barging into Homura’s home at the eleventh-hour. What, are you going to brag about how your ‘perfect logic’ is going to prevail, that you still have claim to be the right side? Come on, Incubator, just try to convince me. “Your existence has answered at least one great mystery: Why is Madoka Kaname’s potential as a magical girl so abnormally vast?” ...wut? “You see, a magical girl’s potential is based on the weight of the karmic destiny she bears.” Oh. Oh, fuck. Homura was the cause. Alpha Madoka was a strong Magical Girl, but still lost to Walpurgisnacht. But each of the other timelines we saw, she survived up until she Witchified, didn’t she? I just put it down to Homura’s help, but if she was growing stronger and stronger… If each time Homura rewound time, all for the sake of one single person, reality after reality based around the lone girl Madoka Kaname… Multiple timelines, converging on one point, one person. All the ‘karmic destiny’ of the prior Madokas, concentrated into the next. In trying to save Madoka, Homura turned her into The One. “Excellent work, Homura. You’ve made Madoka into the most powerful witch we’ve ever seen.” Intro sequence. Well. That’s a thing. For what it’s worth, I paused to really read the lyrics of the intro song this time, and goddamn is it obvious now that it’s really Homura’s song. All the references to time, being stuck on a bad path? The songwriter must have been giggling like crazy when they played this in the early episodes. (Oh hey, it ended with the updated RADIO TOWER OF LIES with all five of the girls hanging out on top.) Ep 11: The Only Thing I Have Left to Guide Me A rainy day in Mitakihara City. Oh. “Sayaka Miki Funeral Service.” I guess the cops finally found her body. The school’s turned out for the service, and Madoka’s there with shaded eyes. She knows the truth, but can’t tell anyone. “Up next, the weather forecast.” Geez, show a little tact radioman! Sayaka makes it home, puts away her umbrella as her mother… uh oh. “About Sayaka’s case… Are you sure you don’t know anything about it?” Madoka claims ignorance and walks away. And the camera makes damn sure that we know Mother ain't buying any of it. Gulp. And now Madoka’s just sprawled on her bed, a blank look on her face. Her best friend and Kyoko are dead (what, no mention of Mami?). All because of- YOU. “It wasn’t exactly an unexpected outcome.” For crying out loud Incubator, give her some space, she just came back from the funeral of her best friend! Although knowing the Incubator, it’s taking this opportunity of a damaged emotional state to try and fill its quota sooner rather than later. Wait. Wait wait wait. What did you just say, Incubator? What the FUCK did you just say? “Then, for example, do you feel responsible for the deaths of livestock? Do you ever think about the process by which they become foodstuffs for you?” … “Because they are slated to become food for humans, livestock are fed and provided for all their lives, and given equal chance to reproduce free from natural selection. Cows, pigs, and even chickens have an overwhelmingly higher rate of survival in captivity than in the wild. So isn’t it actually a rather ideal, mutually beneficial relationship for you both?” Alright. Ok. *deep breath* First I’ll try to address the “eating other lifeforms” thing, then I’ll address why this analogy does not even come close to this situation. I’m an omnivore. I eat both meat and plant matter. I eat meat for several reasons, nutritional and ethical. It's not a perfect system, but it works and I consider it good. If it wasn't for the core flaw, I might even admit that the Incubator has a point in them being similar. But all of that is based on one single, fundamental fact: these creatures are not sapient. You can’t talk to them. Incubator, I’m going to bring something up called the Hierarchy of Foreignness (a system created in the Orson Scott Card “Ender’s Game” series). A general description is that it classifies groups or species based on both their species and ability to communicate, ranging from Utlanning (same species, easy communication) to Djur (different species, non-sapient). Note the communication aspect, that’s crucial. Sapience is a divisive subject, but I think we can all agree that if communication was possible between us and another species, if we could talk to them and they could rationally answer in kind then there’s no way in hell they would be on the menu. And yet, even though the Incubators can clearly communicate with us, even though they know that we are capable of reasoning, of storing and transmitting ideas, of generalization and abstract ideas… they still treat us as a resource. “Are you saying it’s the same between you and us?” “On the contrary, our treatment of humankind is much more respectful than your treatment of livestock. Perhaps it isn’t perfect, but we do acknowledge your species as sentient and try to deal fairly with you.” And there we go! Sentient, not sapient. Awareness, not reasoning. We raise cattle as livestock because it is the best solution and they are not sapient beings. You assholes stumbled across a rock full of sapient, rationalizing beings that you could communicate with and turned them into batteries. But wait, there’s more! The Incubator proceeds to show a horrified Madoka images of humanity’s history, from caves to castles. “We have intervened in your civilization’s development since prehistoric times. Countless girls throughout time have made Contracts with Incubators, had their wishes granted, and then ultimately succumbed to despair (images of woman I assume to be Cleopatra, based on pyramids and snakebite). Beginning in hope and then ending in a curse; that is the cycle that countless magical girls have repeated to this day. There are some who have wrought revolutions that changed history (Joan of Arc?), or elevated human society to new stages of development.” And so that gives you the right to harvest a thinking species, then? You set these girls on the path to destruction, get your precious emergy, and think we should be grateful for the privilege? Madoka breaks down into tears, cries about how they all trusted the Incubators. Who just claims that it wasn’t the Incubators who betrayed them, but their own prayers. That is the equivalent of saying “I gave them a box of matches, it’s not my fault they ended up burning down the house.” It goes on to argue that all hopes are Wishes for something other than the current reality, and anything that doesn’t match reality is bound to cause change. And of course, Change is Bad, so… “If they considered such a natural outcome to be a ‘betrayal’, they were wrong to have made wishes at all.” Really? Really, Incubator? So you’re saying that since change inevitably results in at least some negative outcomes, it’s wrong to try and enact change? Say, trying to prevent the natural heat-death of the universe? “Not that I’m calling them foolish.” Oh no, you’re just calling them acceptable, unintentional sacrifices. “If you understand now, why are you still holding the fates of a few individuals to be so precious?” Because they are individuals. Because the ending of a rational life, one that is denied a future of experiences and progress and chances to help other lives… Civilizations that exist based on the suffering of others are not worthy of the term. And the Incubators passed that line long ago. Madoka numbly looks up to the Incubator and asks if after all the time they spent watching over those girls they really feel nothing for them at all. The Incubator blithely retorts that if they could “understand suffering”, they wouldn’t need humanity in the first place. A society that treats emotion as a mental disease, to whom the concept of empathy for one another is foreign. Incubator, as surprised as you are that a world of individuals could move beyond the basest of conflicts, I am just as surprised that a species of a single mind could… no, I can’t say that I am surprised that a single focused mind could progress so far. But it is not a society that I would want to be a part of. The Incubator claims that if they had never come to Earth, then humanity would still be living naked in caves. I think you underestimate us. But even if that were true, it would be preferable to your schemes. ...I’m sorry, I can’t take anymore tonight.

*once again, needed an angry sleep to calm down* *calls for one final show prediction*

Well, my guessing has been so spot on so far, why stop now? This is the scenario we have, the elements leading into this finale: -Madoka has not Contracted -Homura knows her time travel has resulted in Madoka’s Protagonist Potential -Walpurgisnacht is inbound, which means bad times for Muggles -All the other MGs besides Homura are dead -Madoka’s Mom suspects that she’s hiding something about Sayaka -Homura is going to try and fight Wally on her own like last timeline, hoping that Madoka won’t Contract From this, I can see three possibilities: (Good Ending) Homura attempts to fight Walpurgisnacht on her own (because that worked so well last time). Brave, heroic, foolish Madoka intervenes, Wishes Mami (or best-case scenario Sayaka and Kyoko as well) back to life, and all the girls work together to destroy Wally. Homura is upset that Madoka still became a MG, but Madoka says that it’s her choice. All the girls will have to be careful, but knowing the risks of despair on their Soul Gems (and the other two/four keeping an eye on Mami so she doesn’t go all Spark-Hunter on them) they work to protect their city and prevent other girls from Contracting. Eventually all the Witches are exterminated, so no need to use up their Soul Gems anymore, they are locked away. Show ends with all three/five girls walking to class, another chance at normal lives. (Was just about to post this when I got the unpleasant realization that this is impossible. "Lock away the Soul Gems"? Wouldn't work. Damn. Ok, so best-case scenario the girls actively avoid using magic, but they still have to carry around this reminder. Still leagues better than where they are now, but... damn, even when I try to come up with a Good ending Urobuchi blocks me. ) (Feels Ending) Homura attempts to fight Walpurgisnacht on her own. Madoka intervenes, makes a Wish that Homura doesn’t hear, and destroys Walpurgisnacht. With her last words before she turns into a Witch, she asks Homura to not give into despair, and keep trying. Homura travels to another timeline, but when she gets there her shield shatters and her Soul Gem disappears. And when she gets to school, Madoka is nowhere to be found. (Urobutcher Ending) Madoka is about to go and try to help Homura, when her mother stops her with several men in uniform. Madoka is taken away for questioning about Sayaka, while the police car is stuck in traffic Walpurgisnacht attacks and destroys the car in passing. Homura tries to fight Walpurgisnacht, but loses like last time. Knowing that if she goes back again Madoka will be further tied up with Protagonist Potential, Homura gives up and her Soul Gem turns black. ...yep. So, so much fun coming up with these predictions. And even though for the last one I tried thinking of what could make me punch my screen, I wouldn’t bet that Urobuchi will find some way to top it. Ugh.

Still raining, scene change to a bar?

“It really does hurt, losing one of my own students this way…”

Oh. Ouch. Looks like the girl’s teacher is trying to cope. And she still doesn’t know what really happened to Sayaka, and we know that she never will. Add in a missing third-year student…

All they’ve got to go on is the fact that Sayaka was ‘quarreling’ with a friend over a boy. Aw jeez, Hitomi’s got to be in a bad spot right now, huh? Probably thinks that she drove Sayaka off? Kinda true, but not the whole story. Ten-to-one that the Incubator plans on paying a brown-haired girl a visit later.

So the cops are calling it “an accidental death, exacerbated by mental stress after running away from home.” So in other words, they’ve got no clue how she actually died. I suppose one’s soul turning into a Witch wouldn’t leave any real signs.

Oh, so Teach is talking with Mrs. Kaname! Should have realized when this convo took place in a bar. Heh, remember back when it was just jokes about Madoka’s Mom having to drink with her brotastic colleagues, and planning a coup of her department? Those were good times.

Uh oh. Mrs. Kaname’s admitting that she thinks Madoka knows something. But she also doesn’t seem like she’s lying… I think Mrs. Kaname’s thinking over that late-night advice on making a mistake for a friend. Madoka did say that a friend was getting into trouble. So much guilt being felt by all these secondary characters: Hitomi thinks she drove Sayaka away over Kamijo, Teach is worried about students going missing from school, Mrs. Kaname knew ‘a friend’ of Madoka’s was in a bad spot. Can’t say the blame falls fully on any of them, but I bet they feel like it does.

Mrs. Kaname bemoaning that for the first time, she can’t tell what Madoka is thinking. With things seeming off lately, she can tell something’s weighing on her but Madoka hasn’t talked about it. Understandable given the subject matter, but from Mother’s perspective Madoka doesn’t trust her anymore. And all she can do is trust Madoka.

Back at Homura’s place, doorbell? Oh, Madoka’s going to talk to Homura! She asks if all the floating diagrams are about Wally, says that Kyoko told her about the super-witch. Been a while since we last saw Kyoko, I can’t remember if that was onscreen on this is just establishing how Madoka could know about it.

Ah, seems Madoka’s here because she was told Wally is such a strong witch one person can’t beat it on their own. Homura was planning to team up with Kyoko… but then stuff happened. Madoka asks if Homura’s been planning on fighting it all this time, which gets an odd look from the time-traveler. Madoka rallies and asks if the city will be in danger.

Homura’s explaining that Walpurgisnacht is so powerful it doesn’t need to hide in a Labyrinth. If it manifests, thousands die. Muggles can’t see it, so they just think it’s caused by some natural disaster.

Madoka asks, or rather says that it absolutely has to be defeated… yup, Protagonist. Sorry, Homura, but I look at Madoka now and see someone who knows that there is a problem, and a way that she can help against it. With all the other girls gone, Homura will need help, so Madoka suggests that-

Homura cuts her off, insisting that she can do it on her own, claims that she never even needed Kyoko’s help. Yyyyeah, even Madoka knows that you’re bluffing. Then… oh! “I don’t know why, but I really want to believe in you, Homura. I don’t want to think that you’d lie to me.” Aw now you’ve done it Homura, you made Madoka cry. Feel the guilt. Feeeel it!

Urg, so many feels right now. Madoka’s crying because Homura is lying to her, and Homura’s clenching her fists and teeth because-

“I’m not even living in the same time that you are, Madoka!”

OUCH. Homura has broken down, rushed over and grabbed Madoka in a hug, our Protagonist is standing there very much off-guard. Cold, distant Homura is finally telling Madoka her story, that she’s from the future. That she’s met Madoka over and over, and each time had to watch her die.

“What do I have to do to save you? What do I have to do to change your fate?” She’s been redoing this month trying to find an answer. Yeah, not blaming you for your confusion Madoka, this is a big change from the Homura that you knew.

“I’m sorry… I’m not making any sense, right? I must seem horribly creepy, right?” Madoka’s known this Mysterious Transfer Student for barely a month, while Homura’s known Madoka for who knows how long. And for all Madoka is a kind and compassionate Protagonist, she really doesn’t know what do with this weepy girl.

“But to me… To me, you are…”

...well.

“The more times I redo all this, the further in time we drift from one another. Our feelings drift further apart, and my words don’t even reach you anymore. The truth is, I think I’ve been lost for a very long time now.”

“I will save you. That was the feeling that I started all of this with. And now, it is the only thing I have left to guide me.” Title drop! “It’s ok if you don’t understand. It’s ok if my words don’t reach you. But, please… Please… just let me protect you.”

...yup. That was one heck of a gut punch. I can say I understand the MadoHomu shippers now, that “To me, you are…” is all but a confession to me. However, I will still stand by my friendship interpretation because damnit my Ship of Death has killed off half the cast already, and I wanna see this girls live.

Cut to a dark and stormy sky, thunder and lightning. Some dudes are remarking that the thunderclouds are spreading at unbelievable speeds, call for an evacuation of the city. All the residents are getting ordered to their nearest shelters, and now the streets are empty.

Except for one person. A dark-haired girl in a school uniform, overlooking the water.

“It’s here.”

(For the record, as soon as I typed that the internet decided that “Eh, that’s a good place to crash”. Thankfully fixed it, but for a while there I was yelling at Wally for breaking my computer.)

Now we’re at a fancy building with lots of glass (as per the norm in this city), apparently it’s a gym of sorts that’s serving as a shelter, lots of families on green mats around the court. Not sure how much of a ‘shelter’ the building is with all the giant windows, let alone how it’s probably not Witch-proof, but better than everyone being at home I guess. Madoka’s family are at their own mat. Daw, been ages since I last saw the little brother and the Dad, Brother’s cute asking if they’re camping tonight and Dad saying it’s a great big group campout. But Madoka’s turned away from the rest of the family, clutching her knees. Taking bets on how long she lasts until she runs off to try and help, I’m giving it five minutes.

Back at Homura, colors are going monochrome, and a fog is spreading across the river. Once it reaches Homura she gives one last MST hair-flip, and starts walking. Wait, hold up, wasn’t she just behind a railing, facing the river? Is the fog a sign of warped reality so that the railing isn’t there anymore, or what?

Ah. Some sort of crayon rabbit-thing (not an Incubator, just has ears like a rabbit) just ran by Homura. Reality warping it is. And it just got stomped on by an elephant? Ok, looks like while Wally doesn’t have/need a labyrinth it does project a cirusy-vibe.

A lace curtain rises, and the music kicks in. A countdown begins. 5. 4. Buildings rise behind Homura. 2. The pastel circus passes by her. 1. Shattered buildings rise up and Walpurgisnacht looms from the clouds, an upside-down mannequin in a flowy dress with giant gears above.

The Future has arrived. Walpurgisnacht is here.

Homura launches into a quick transformation sequence (is this the first time we’ve seen her transform?), clicks her shield… and whoa that’s a lot of rocket launchers. No seriously, I am seeing dozens of RPGs and bazookas set up around her, how long did it take her to gather all of these?

So yeah, Homura’s starting off by freezing time and blasting dozens of explosives at Wally. Who just laughs a creepy echoey laugh and floats off breathing technicolor flames as Homura now runs about triggering mortars. That likewise seem to do no damage. Dang, even Homura’s early pipe bombs could destroy a Witch quickly, what’s Walpurgisnacht made of? Alright, will collapsing some metal towers on the Witch work? Nope. Now… do I hear a truck?

Abridged!Dio: “Look what I’ve got!”

Ok, the explosions keep coming as Homura drives a freaking tanker up the bridge into Wally’s face. And then ok what the hell, is that a sub? Did Homura just launch a freaking missile into this Witch? Half a dozen missiles? And then two that ram Wally into the industrial area? Sorry Mami, but as impressive as it was to see you summon a company-worth of muskets, I think Homura has you beat in firepower here.

Argh, but even after getting hit by friggin missiles Walpurgisnacht is still inta- oh, that’s a bomb. Oh, that’s a lot of bombs. OH, that’s a shitton of bombs!

But the music’s not stopping. It sounds like it’s building up, even. Aw crap, are you telling me that THAT wasn’t enough? Homura just blasted this thing into a building practically made of bombs, what more do you want?!

Crap, yeah. Homura just got struck by some sort of starry-whip, and Walpurgisnacht appears no worse for wear. Homura, I really hope you’ve got some more firepower stashed away.

All these explosions are shaking the shelter, Madoka’s parents are looking up at the ceiling worriedly and not saying anything. Madoka’s still off to the side, clutching her- wait, she just stood up. And said that she’s going to the bathroom. *Checks time, just under 3 minutes* Damn, even faster than I guessed.

Madoka’s looking out the (probably not storm-proof) giant glass windows at the pouring rain, and for crying out loud the Incubator is perched on the railing. She asks it if Homura was telling the truth about being able to face Wally on her own, the Incubator asks if she’d believe it anyways if it told her no. “At this point, explanations are pointless. You should go and see for yourself. See how well Homura Akemi is faring against Walpurgisnacht.” Manipulative to the end, aren’t you you little jerk.

It then proceeds to frankly say that Homura hasn’t given up hope yet. If she loses, then she can still turn back time, restart this ‘meaningless’ chain of events over and over. Because it’s no longer possible for her to stop or give up.

“The moment she acknowledges that everything she has done is pointless, and your fate is impossible to change, Homura Akemi will fall into despair and turn into a Grief Seed.”

Aw hell. The Urobuchi’s setting up Ending #3, isn’t he? Come on Homura, don’t fall to despair! You can’t give up on Madoka, even if you fail again this time you could still save the Madoka in the next timeline!

“So you’re saying that as long as she continues to hope, she can’t be saved?”

...no. No no NO. Do NOT do this to me, Urobuchi! I am begging you, do NOT make Ending #2 happen either! It doesn’t matter if Madoka Wishing for Homura to not be trapped in her quest to save Madoka would end the problem, if we end with either both girls dying or Madoka Wishing Homura free from the time loops, I am going to scream. Damn it, cut these girls a break!

Damn it. Madoka has dried her tears and is walking away. Either to lichdom to save another or to her death, I do not know. But away she goes.

Holy crap, Mom out of nowhere! She just grabbed Madoka’s hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Aw shoot, she’s confronting Madoka. If I see people in uniform show up I am going to break something.

Madoka says that she has to go save a friend, but Mother cuts her off and says to leave it to the firefighters. You know, the guys with rescue training that a middle-school girl doesn’t have.

Our Protagonist insists that it has to be her- oh! Mother just slapped her. “You don’t live your life just for yourself, understand?!”

But Madoka understands. She knows how much her mother and father care, because she loves her family too. And in order to protect them and her friend, she has to go somewhere else now.

Damn, props to Mother. Even not knowing everything that’s going on, even with such a terrible ‘storm’ outside, she says that she’s going with Madoka if she’s leaving. But Madoka says no, that she needs to stay and makes sure Father and Tatsuya stay safe.

“Mom, you told me you had raised me well. I don’t tell lies (*beyond not explaining Magical Girls*). I don’t do bad things. Will you believe in me now? Will you trust that I’ll do what’s right?”

Mother raises a hand. And then lowers it. And then launches Madoka forward with a pat on the back. Got to admit, for a second I thought that Madoka was going to fall down the stairs. What a way to end the show, right? But no, it’s a heartwarming moment between mother and daughter.

Back to Terrible Things! Walpurgisnacht is heading deeper into the city, Homura chasing while being surrounded by laughing starry MG-silhouettes. And of course Wally is heading for the shelter, as if this wasn’t bad enough already. If you’ve got anything left Homura, now’s the time to use it!

Um. Ouch. A building to the face has got to smart.

Aw crud, Homura’s foot is trapped. Is she…? Yup, she’s grabbing her shield, preparing to reset again. But if she goes back again, Madoka will get more tied up in MG potential.

No. No no no nope uh-uh NO. You do not get to give up now, Homura. You are not going to go Ending #3 and make Madoka have to fight two friggin Witches. Do NOT give up! No no NO

Madoka’s here.

“That’s enough. You’ve done enough, Homura.”

The music from the Future Dream/secondary credits has just started. The Incubator walks up beside Madoka.

“Madoka… you didn’t…!”

“Homura… I’m sorry.”

And credits.

After-credits picture of all five magical girls.

“If someone says it’s wrong to have hope, then I’ll tell them they’re wrong, every single time. And I know I’ll always tell them so.”

Final Episode: My Very Best Friend

*phew* Ok, we got way too close to Ending #3 there for me. And it’s clear that Madoka is going to make a Contract and become a MG to fight Walpurgisnacht. The only question now is what she’s going to Wish for.

I have to re-evaluate #2 now, given the after-credits line about Madoka always saying it’s wrong to give up hope. I can’t see someone who says that ending Homura’s quest, even with good intentions. So it’s more likely that Madoka will make the Wish about this timeline and just give Homura the inspiring speech, that just because this timeline didn’t work out that doesn’t mean she should give up on the future. So maybe a Wish like “I Wish I had the power to save this city from Walpurgisnacht”, or best-case “I Wish for my friends back to help me fight Walpurgisnacht”, and when Madoka runs out Homura leaves for the next timeline. And so we end with another failure, but hope that someday Homura will succeed.

*Sigh* Well, whatever happens next, bittersweet or just bitter, it’s been a trip. Thank you all for joining me in this WMTW, I will hope beyond hope that Homura will find peace someday.

#wmtw #where my twin watches #ranubis #pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm 11

[blurrymango]

Chapter One

The air was salty and chilled, a sign that it was finally the beginning of fall. PoisonBerry clutched the journey in bony hands. There was something strange about this day, something overwhelming that loomed over the vessel of the ship like a cloud. The net that had been cast in the water came back up slowly. The crew watched with anticipation as it breached the surface. What they had pulled up was not fish nor treasure, but a body. With long brown hair and scarring burns covering what surface wasn’t covered in decay. The raven-haired girl felt to her sick to her stomach at the scene before, the nauseating smell and sight quickly overtook her, her body unable to handle it as she passed out.

Maybe in another timeline he would have cared, but by the sticky-notes she had covered the pages of his book with, it was obvious she had no idea who he was, no respect for the grave in which his thoughts at. And in the pale moonlight that shined through the small window on the wall, he realized that, as well as having no respect for him, she had no respect for herself either. Greasy and unkept short black hair mocked anyone who knew her. She used to take pride in herself, inner and outer. Those once delicate and slender hands that could make or break beautiful creations were now callused and shaky. He looked away, not wanting to see her in that state any longer.

Whoever had shared this before had long since left, as he hoped he would as well. He would have thrown on whatever of the person’s clothes fit comfortably, though with his stature he was reduced to choosing whatever wouldn’t slide off his awkward body. He absentmindedly wondered how easily he would be able to get his muscle and fat back up, knowing that until his skin wasn’t trying to heal itself over layers of decay he wouldn’t be able go back on testosterone. He sneered at the thought, grabbing an empty satchel and putting his journal and some money in it.

He figured that if he were to stay on the ship that he would be interrogated or if he managed to play dead that the male members of the crew would likely try to, well, make use of his corpse’s more feminine parts. He shivered at the thought, unable to tell if he feared the idea or got excited by it. Either way he did not want to find out which. He briefly considered taking PoisonBerry with him, but not only did she not remember who he was but frankly she might as well be dead if she didn’t remember him. Plus, he was a stranger to her, and though she was never quite smart, she had good instincts. He had always admired that about her.

He was about to get into a raft when he heard a gun cock and felt cool metal against the back of his head. He could hear it now, the unsteady and ragged breath of the person behind him. She never really liked the sea air, her asthma would always act up, as it was now by how it sounded. He cleared his throat.

“Th-the-the o-o-cea-ocean a-ai-air-r a-ain’t g-goo- ain’t g-good f-for ya lungs-s, girl.” He hated his stutter, it made him sound scared, but, really, he wasn’t really feeling emotions right now. His legs were tired from standing, his tongue sandpaper in his mouth, and his entire body was sore and nauseated.

“‘S-s-sides, if y-y-ya k-killed me, I b-b-bet-betcha’ th-that ya c-capt-tin beat y-you f-f-for it, make ya c-clean up my bl-blood and gut-ts.” The coolness of the gun left, and he turned to face her. Her features were etched with anger and fear, though her long nose scrunched up with disgust. Maybe it was the smell. But when he looked into her eyes, she looked away. Those once bright green eyes that he had once stared into with mutual admiration and respect could now barely stand to look back at him. She was afraid.

“Just return what st-stole and you can leave.” She held out her hand for the item.

“Th-th-the b-bah-bag ain’t-t yours, b-b-babe.” He needed to get on land quickly, else he was going to throw up his guts into the sea.

“I’m talking about the journal.” She sneered at him. He could handle an angry PoisonBerry, and he knew had to act fast or do what she wants, or things would get violent.

“J-j-jus-jus’ t-t-takin’ back what’s-s m-mine br-bro.” His instincts acted and then the gun was in his hand and aimed straight at her head before she could register what happened.

“Y-y-y’know wh-what-t, s-s-s-since you s-so rude to your g-guest, you c-c-can t-take me to the Av-v-v-vante docks or y-you-you’ll get a f-fuck-fucking b-bull-let in ya s-sk-skull.” She was no longer rude.

It would have been silent if not for the gentle waves around them. Blitz was looking directly at PoisonBerry, studying the rowing girl with scrutinizing eyes. She used to be so different, she was so confident, hard-headed and energetic. She used to give off an air of easy-going superiority that made anyone relaxed. The person in front of him was merely a pitiful disgrace in her body, if there was a way to get rid of this thing that possessed her and bring back his friend, he would take any opportunity he got. He hated how different she was now, and it showed.

“So, uh-“

“Sh-sh-sut-shut the f-f-fuck up, p-pl-please. I-I-I’m n-not in the m-mood to t-t-talk.” The rest of the it was spent in grateful silence.

When the two arrived at the town, the sun had barely risen, yet society was already awake. The mere idea of waking up this early disgusted them both and angered Blitz, but that meant stores were open. Which meant food, and though the thought of eating nauseated him, he was hungry, and he knew just where to eat at.

He walked with a purpose, if anger could be considered one. It certainly would have been a sight to see, a corpse walking with a girl so skinny she was a skeleton, both wore ill-fitted clothing. Blitz loved and hated the stares he got, on one hand, it was attention and their gazes were fearful, on the other hand, it was attention, and they were afraid of him.

When the two reached their destination, a small café tucked neatly away in the city, Blitz was thankful that there weren’t much people. He gestured for PoisonBerry to sit at a booth near the counter. He knew the girl at the register, but something told him she didn’t remember him. Before he could order though, another familiar face rushed in, a vampire girl whose admittedly had much healthier looking skin than his, she ordered tea and coffee. He snorted at the order, knowing that it was not born of indecisiveness, but of an ideology that screamed ‘Life is boring so do what you want and if you end up buried alive or in jail then you did not party hard enough.’ Quite frankly a beautiful philosophy to live by.

“Y-you tr-tryna’ c-c-cure a h-hang-hangover?” He leaned against the counter. She looked over at him, shocked by his existence, and smirked, pulling out a thermos. She unscrewed the cap and held it towards him. The contents of which assaulted his sense of smell. The thermos contained a mix of honey, blood, and vodka.

“M-m-ay-maybe j-just stick to c-candles, A-Amber.” He told her.

“Either you’re a psychic or a stalker, either way I’m outta here.” She exclaimed, pronouncing ‘either’ both ways. True to her word, she gathered up her things and left. The girl behind the counter snorted.

“Next, I guess.” The dark-skinned girl said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“U-uh, y-yeah, I-I’ll have a sl-slice of st-str-strawberry c-c-cake and a t-t-t-tea for my friend and I’ll have  a dou-double-ch-choc-double-chocolate-ch-chip cookie and uh, the sw-sweet-test coffee you have.”

The girl scribbled down the order with a bored expression, then her eyes flicked up and she smiled.

“That’ll be $14.42.” She stood straight and cleared her throat. “But if you can guess my name you’ll get a discount.” She smiled lazily. He might as well have, considering he knew, both her and her twin.

“I c-c-can tell y-ya more th-than th-th-that. A-al-also I’ll p-pay for the va-vampire’s drink t-too, consider-considering h-how sh-she l-left bef-fore she- before she could h-h-hers-self.”

She pretended to ponder it for a moment, then held out her hand for him to shake his. She slid the order through the little window leading to the kitchen.

“Y-your n-n-name i-is Ar-Arti-Artimes, you ha-have a twi-tw-twin with b-bl-blue e-eyes named Apollo, and-and! - y-y’all  are fr-friends and c-co-workers with girl n-named Ch-Char-Cha-Charlotte C-Cooke!” She stared at his grinning face with wide eyes.

“Go sit with your friend, your order will be out shortly.” He smiled at her, setting down $9 and going to sit with PoisonBerry.

“Wha-what are you, like, a stalker or somethin’?” She asked with bewilderment. All she got for a response was a small hum.

“Like, how do you know so much?” She rephrased. He leaned over the table at her and spoke in a low tone.

“I-I’m a g-god.” He leaned back up. “A-anyway, af-aft-ter this I f-figured we sh-should g-go v-v-visit an old f-f-friend.”

“Or maybe we should make you go get a haircut because it covers your face.” She said back. He let out a chuckle and a small glare.

A girl with skin the color of cookie dough and caramel-colored curly locks of hair walked over to them, carrying their breakfast. Charlotte Cooke, the love of his life from before death, still looked as angelic as ever. She nodded her head along with whatever was playing in her head-phones and smiled at him as she set down their food. He clumsily searched his bag for some money to tip her with.

“Well, thank you sir!” Her soft voice was music to him.

“H-h-have a n-nice d-day!” He said as walked away. The two ate in silence, PoisonBerry giving him weird looks the whole time. They finished up and left.

“Alright-t, s-s-so, I a-ain’t g-gon-na-na get my h-hair c-cut in p-p-public p-plac-ce.” He said to her as they walked down the gravel roads.

“What, so, you gonna cut it yourself?” She asked as they turned a corner. He didn’t respond, in fact, the walk continued in silence until they reached a point where gravel turned to dirt and buildings turned to trees.

“Where are you taking me?” Her curiosity was starting to turn into unease. She started wondering how much she could trust this guy. Minutes went by with no answer as Blitz lead her down a twisting path that lead to nowhere. She asked him again and he responded with aggression in his stance and an off-putting calmness in his words.

“Y-you cl-clearly aren’t c-c-com-comfortable ‘round me, y-yet you con-continue foll-follow what I s-say. I d-don’t need-need you at this point, a-at th-th-this-s pl-plac-ce.” He turned to face her, and even though his face was visible, it still just as unreadable. “Th-th-there is n-no more g-gun t-to your head-d,” he spread his arms out “and there is n-no g-g-gun in-in my h-h-hand. Ther-the-there’s n-n-noth-thing stop-stopping you fr-from-from leaving.” She looked away, hugging herself with boney arms.

“I got nothin’ to go back to if I leave.”

“D-damned if you d-do, damn-damned if you don’t. Y-you’ve go-got-t-ten this f-far, c-contin-continue, o-or not, it’s-s your ch-choice, I d-d-don’t ca-care.” He continued down the trail, and against her better judgement, she followed behind, like a dog on a leash.

The house was exactly as he remembered it. It towered over the trees and to those unfamiliar with it, they would lose more than just their path. He always loved this place, and it loves him. He could spend eternity wandering its’ halls. His house lifeless, like he had been. Yet there was someone in there. He barged in, ready to tear the place to shreds with his bare hands to find them, to find this intruder and remove them from his home like a parasite from a praying mantis. Yet there was no need to, the person was right there.

“Oh, I thought you’d be home sooner.” With pale, cubby cheeks, red eyes, and long straight blue hair, Sundae had not changed one bit. And judging by the barking corgi that squeezed through her legs to lick him, neither Sundae nor Butterscotch had forgotten him. He picked up the Brit and spun her around, the two laughing like children. Butterscotch yipped happily. He put her down, cleared his throat, and told her what he already knew.

“Blitz, trust me, I’ve been keeping tabs on our dear friends, and I know how to get their memories back. Except,” She gestured to a confused PoisonBerry, “she’s been at sea.” She walked over to the green-eyed girl and took her angular face between her hands. “Plus, she’s changed the most. Whatever made her how she was, was purely thanks to you. She’ll be the hardest to restore. But, we’ll also need her for Midnight.” She lead the two into the house.

“W-w-well, h-how we g-gonna do it?” He asked her, hands in his pockets. A thought struck him then. One that shook him to his core. Had his brother forgotten him? Did his sister forget him? His head was clouded, his ears rang, and nausea consumed him.

“Blitz!” Sundae caught him before he fell. She looked to PoisonBerry. “Well come on then, help me out here.” The raven-haired girl hurried to them.

“What’s wrong with him?” She asked frantically. Sundae simply looked at her. “Is-is he having a stroke?”

“What- No. He, he’ll be fine, he just passed out.”

Blitz woke up a day later. Nausea filled his head and couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he was numb and in pain all at once. He tried to scream, yet all that came out was blood and bile. He managed to lean over when he threw up. He knew it might be getting on his carpet, but at the moment he didn’t care. After emptying the contents of his stomach and lungs, he regained his senses a bit. His head pounded, and his body felt like it was on fire. He stumbled out of bed, thankfully not stepping in vomit, and limped to the bathroom. He fumbled around the mirror cabinet until he found his meds. He swallowed them along a mouthful of sink water. The room smelled like death, he smelled like death. He tore off the stolen clothes, grimacing when pieces of flesh went with it. He noticed now how his hair was in such a bad state. The brown locks were greasy, tangled, and covered his face. His skin, normally just pale and scarred, was covered patched of green and yellow rot.  He stumbled to his bathtub, turning the faucet on scorching hot and dumping an entire bottle of soap in it. He got in and dunked his head under, too. He felt his hand around the floor and found scissors and a comb. With shaky hand he began to cut and comb his hair. By this point the tub was beginning to overflow, but he didn’t care because there was a drain beneath it. Then he bathed himself. He scrubbed until the blistered. He didn’t want to leave this heavenly scorching heat, but the feeling of unease made him leave.  He turned the water off, unplugged the drain and went to the mirror. Eyebags, chapped lips, and a big nose greeted him. One eye was icy blue while the other nearly blind. His teeth were yellow and uneven, but he didn’t care as long he had them. He scowled at his reflection and left.

He combed his fingers through freshly cut hair while trying to recall the events of the past, what, day? He’d never been good at keeping track of time. He put on some baggy dark clothes and taking the vomit filled bucket, opened his window and dumped the bile out. Satisfied, he went to his desk and opened his journal. He scowled at the sticky-notes and carefully peeled them off the pages and threw them away. He flipped to a blank page and began writing.

Either he blacked out or zoned because when he opened his eyes the room was filled with the warm glow of the afternoon. He stretched his hands over his head and his stomach growled under his sweater. He groaned as he left the room. When he got to the dining room with a box of cereal, he saw Sundae surrounded by pictures and papers. He spotted his camera on the table, a cheap little thing he bought with what little money he had when he was a kid. His most prized possession, and Sundae kept it. He was overjoyed until she spoke.

“Blitz! I know who we’ll bring back first.” The black-clothed girl had only just noticed he was there. She picked up a photo of two girls dancing together under the un, not a care in the world. He remembered that day, he and Luci, a werewolf girl, had met Amber. He took the picture when the two were dancing to some upbeat jazz song that came on his radio.

“Wh-which one? He asked, hoping it would be Amber, as she might be easiest to find.

“Why not both? I know where they live.” Oh right, Blitz forgot she’d been stalking their friends while he was dead. This would be easy, they could get most of them done in a day. He gathered the materials they’d need, got PoisonBerry, and set off in a carriage to town.

Amber had a small apartment full of takeout boxes and unlit candles everywhere. The place was a mess and Blitz almost felt bad until he remembered that when he first met her she had been living in a doomsday bunker under a field. The curtains were closed, and the place was dusty and smelled like blood. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind them and the candles were lit. A figure cloaked in shadows stared them down with glowing red eyes.

“A stalker you are, you should have stayed watching from afar.” Amber stepped into the dim light. PoisonBerry hid behind Sundae who stood straight-faced with her arms crossed. Blitz stepped forward, and of all the scents in the room, there was no cinnamon. The one missing was in his satchel. He pulled it out with a box of matches. He lit the candle right as the vampire struck. Fangs almost in his neck, she went limp in his arms and the light became blinding.

When their eyesight came back to them, they were under the warmth of the sun. Tendrils pure light came from the vampire’s chest. And with a burst of light, she awoke in his arms as the sun set. She let out a breathy laugh as she looked up at Blitz’s bewildered face. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his cheek.

“Good ta’ see ya again, amigo.” She looked around and hurriedly sat up. “Where is our wolf?” She looked to him. Sundae cleared her throat and dusted herself off, leaving a shocked PoisonBerry laying in the grass.

“Your friend is in the circus, and the circus will be in town quite soon, just in time for the full moon. And since she joined recently, they have no idea.” She spoke

“S-so, what, she g-gets t-ta’ t-t-town, and w-wolf’s-wolf’s out t-to pl-play. A-and b-b-boom, j-just like-just like th-that, e’eryone’s-s d-dead.”

“Yep. So, if we don���t want a massacre on our hands, we gotta get her back quick.” Sundae stated.

When they got back home, Sundae and PoisonBerry started cooking, and Blitz and Amber started planning.

“So, as a wolf, they ain’t gonna be able to contain her. She’ll escape and look for a place where she can alone.”

“R-right, s-so we gotta-gotta he-her.”

“Do we got anything that’ll do anything like that.” Amber asked him.

Blitz went to his closet and pulled out a long chain.

“That’ll work.”

That night Blitz didn’t sleep. He thought of all that could go wrong and of his brother and sister. He had no idea if they remembered him, if they even still alive. Though he hated it, he was human, and humans feared the unknown. If his brother continued down his path of assassination, Blitz had no of knowing. Eventually, he gave up on sleep and decided to write instead.

He soon found that writing was a great way to pass the time when he heard birds chirping. Yet, right when he was going to leave the room, his body shut down. When he awoke it was obvious that his surroundings were not based in reality. The grass was a deep red, and thorny vines strangled anything that wasn’t grass. The sky was pitch black, yet in the great nothingness it seemed to all flow towards a single point. He followed the hypnotic movement of the inky nothing, each step calming and his movements languid and heavy. Eventually he found it, or rather, himself. The picture perfect of image of a younger version of him surrounded by sunflowers.

“Why, why do you put them through this? All you do causes them to suffer.” He scowled at the child, it’s voice alien and unnerving to him, its words dripping with poison. He stalked toward the child, it’s hair a blonde and tangled halo that he wanted to rip out.

“I don’t recall even speaking at such an age, child.”  He hissed, circling around it, ignoring how weird his voice sounded. “Why is it that you’ve summoned me back to the realm make-believe? To gloat about your pureness, your virginity and innocence? That won’t last you very long, you know?” His voice echoed in the small infinity.

“Nothing I do will lead me to becoming you.” It sneered at him.

“And yet, here I am, all you are is a reminder of the purity I lost, the innocence that got stolen from me.” The world vibrated and shook with every word he spoke, the sky melting into the ground, leaving an inky void everywhere. “I hate dreaming, y’know. And you, we, I hate being alone. And my friends keep me from loneliness, and you’re keeping me from my friends.” The last thing he saw was that child’s damn face, mocking him, and contorted in fear. It was an ugly sight, one he was glad to leave. Though when he came back to the real world, there was an overwhelming urge to leave. He wanted to leave. The thought had not yet crossed his mind before now, and it sickened him. Leaving meant all of his progress would be wasted. Leaving meant abandoning his friends. All those forgotten memories, wasted. Yet, he knew he would prefer for them not to know. As he packed his bag, every fiber of him screamed at him not to leave. He found himself unable to scream back. He left his home behind him, a weight lifted off his shoulders and a sickness in his gut. No one knew he was leaving. Except for PoisonBerry, who followed close behind him like a dog.

He took the long way to the docks on purpose, not wanting to go through the sunflower field. A small voice in his head told him wouldn’t be able to avoid it for long. He never could. When he got to the docks, the voice screamed at him to go back. The pirate ship he had left was there, crew members guarding his only escape. He heard a whimper behind him. Of course she was here, of course she followed him, she always did and now she was going to die. He tried to hide her in the forest edge, but it was too late. The captain, who he faintly recognized as PoisonBerry’s sister, spotted them. She called out to them, forcing them to step onto the docks, and right into their clutches.

“Well, ain’t this an odd sight, a corpse and skeleton.” The blonde walked to the pair, crew following behind. Their weapons were drawn and there was murder in their eyes. Frankly, Blitz was unaffected. It all happened so suddenly, one minute they were staring the others down, the next they were in a crate, being thrown into the ocean. Water was filling the space as they sunk. PoisonBerry was panicking, pleading, screaming tothe gods to save her. The only answer she received was the rush of water.

“Pray-prayer is f-f-futile, the-th-the gods-s are f-f-forbidd-den to answ-swer. W-we are al-l-lone in oc-cean and th-they m-might a-as w-well be d-d-dead to- to us.” His voice shook with irritation and his body shook with fear.

“This—This is all your fault! I’m going to die and it’s all thanks to you!” She screamed with rage. Hands flew to her mouth.

“Y-you’re the o-o-one who f-f-fucking f-followed m-me.” There was a shift in the pitch, he could see her eyes.

“You held a gun to my head!” Brighter. “You made me leave with nothing but the clothes on my back.” He could see tears now, glowing, angry tears. “And even when you did give me a choice, my only options were you or being lost and alone!” Brighter still, he could see everything in the box. “I-I chose—I chose you.” The green light became blinding, his ears rang, and his head ached, yet he didn’t look away.

“Welcome home, Nat-Natalie.” He whispered and closed his eyes. He felt bony arms around him, wetness forming on his sweater and sobbing in his ears. He cried too and clung to his friend like a child. “Y-you’re back—you—you’re back. You’re c-come back—come back to—to me!” They held each other tightly as if either one were to let go, the other would fade away. She pulled back from him.

“Midnight! We—we gotta get Midnight!” She stood up. He looked around, sunflowers surrounded them, and they stared only at him, judging, mocking. He closed his eyes.

“I-I g-guess Amb-ber and S-sundae got—got Luc-ci handled.”

The shewolf snarled in her cage as people began surrounding it. They took pictures and laughed at the beast. In the crowd came a loud noise. It progressively got louder as people started clearing away. Amber walked to the cage and placed the trumpet down. The wolf growled at her.

“They got cha’ caged up like some type o’ beast, huh.” She reached her hand into the cage and opened it. The wolf put her paw on the human’s hand.

On the other side of town Blitz and PoisonBerry dragged a blonde girl up a cliff. She was tied up and screaming muffled cusses and curses through the improvised gag. They made it to the top where the ritual was waiting. Blitz waited with the now panicked girl as PoisonBerry picked up a leather-bound book. Blitz shoved Midnight, the blonde, into the circle of mushrooms.

“Fe lat me hahn se fuite nam!”

The circle burned with a bright light and the witch was restored. The ropes had been burned off and Midnight stood. The lovers locked eyes.

“PoisonBerry?” She asked, her accent thick with emotion. Tears welled up in their eyes as PoisonBerry ran to her shorter counterpart. They fell to the ground, holding each other tightly and whispering to each other in their native languages.

Blitz watched on, breathless. It was like he had been a man dying of thirst, seeing this scene of two soulmates coming together was like gulping down water. It hurt like hell going down, yet the refreshing cold numbed it, making him forget everything else, if only for a second. He felt around his scarred neck for a piece of worn string. He found it and clutched the two rings tightly.

He once wrote in his journal about their dynamic. “Visually, they’re opposites. PoisonBerry is tall and almost concerningly thin, with eyes angled in a permanent scowl, pointed ears and nose and a sharp and angular jaw. Her body is boney and pale, her nails bitten down to the nub. (likely a habit she picked up from Blitzs brother) Midnight on the other hand, is short and curvy, with tanned skin. (Blitz’s brother would say she’s “thick”) Her jaw is square with an upturned nose. Her eyes are big and squared off, eyes burning with a bright orange-red flame that held so much passion. So, soft curves and boxy features stood in high contrast with angular and cat-like sharp features. They dress differently as well, yet both seem to have a strong preference for stripes. Midnight wears a lot of black high-waisted skirts and shorts, with flowing short-sleeved shirts, black and blue being her main colors. PoisonBerry wears mostly tight-fitting dresses and sleeved cloaks, blacks, reds, and purples dominated her choice of color, with the occasional splash of green. Visually, they’re opposites, but they’re both filled with a passion for life that I could never hope to have.” (frankly, he used to be jealous of that when he was little, now he doesn’t feel much about it)

When the three of them got back to the house they were met with a vampire, a werewolf, a demon, and an invitation to a masquerade. The group said their hellos and discussed dinner plans. (Lucy glared at Midnight the entire time, silently nodding along to the conversation) Blitz pointed out the moon hanging above and made them agree to have a big breakfast in the morning. While everyone else slept, Blitz fought to keep his closed. The invite they had gotten left a bad taste in his mouth. The invite had been handwritten in a script that he could barely read, fancy lettering with unnecessary loops and curves, but he knew exactly who wrote it. The invite was from his half-sister, somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if his brother had gotten an invite too. He really hoped not, their half-sister had put them through hell when they were kids, leaving them with invisible scars and (thankfully only on Blitz) actual scars too. So, for her to even think for a second that Ty would go was idiotic. He sat up in his bed, wanting to vent his anger out. He opened his curtains to let the moonlight in, lit a candle, and went to his desk. He opened a drawer, one full of gears and nuts and bolts and other bits and scraps he collected over the years. He set some of them on the desk, stared at them for a bit, hoping inspiration would come, then put them back. He opened another drawer and took out his journal. (he had made it when he was very into book-binding, plenty of pages that could act as whatever he wanted) He started taking an account of all that happened since he last wrote. He loved writing, it was a good way to clear his head and keep track of important and not-so-important details that he would surely forget otherwise. It was a way to escape reality, if only for a sec. And this time, escapism worked well, because before he knew it the sun was rising, his candle had melted into a pool of wax and there was knocking at his door. Sundae entered and then gagged.

“Smells like rot in here.”

He turned his chair towards her and lifted his bare arm, covered in varying levels of decay and scars, then gestured to himself, in a similar state.

“S-s-sund-dae, my-my b-body’s m-m-m-mending, it w-won’t- it’s-s gon-gonna t-take awhi-whil-le t-till it’s heal-healed.”

Sundae hummed and stepped in, closing the door behind her.

“Seems as though we’re the only ones awake, well, Amber might be, but who knows with that girl.” Sundae told him. Blitz made a gesture that said ‘well, you know her.’ Sundae hummed in agreement, leaning against the wall where the sun illuminated her features, giving her an almost angelic glow. Ironic, considering the two rather prominent dark red horns sticking from her forehead.

“Y’know, I found PoisonBerry and Midnight curled up together, making up for lost time, I suppose.” They laughed quietly to each other. (Blitz’s ended with a rather nasty cough) He walked to his dresser and took some dark colored clothes from the pile next to it. A quick sniff determined they smelled better than he did. He was buttoning up his shirt when it hit him.

“The-the i-i-inv-v-vite, M-mint s-s-sent-t it h-here, t-to us—to y-you! Sh-she re-rem-rem—she—she kn-knows you.” He curled up into himself. “Sh-she remem-remembers wh-who we are.” He whispered.

Sundae approached him carefully, acting as though he were a wild animal. He knew it was unintentional, but when the look in her eyes went from friendly to cautious, it stung.

“Blitz, relax, you’ll be ok. If anything happens, I promise it won’t happen to you.” She was trying so hard to be comforting, but in his mind, that promise was empty, it twisted like a viper in his thoughts, mocking and tormenting and cruel and manipulating. He knew it wasn’t, Sundae has always been his most trustworthy friend, but he couldn’t help it.

Slowly they stood together, and with shaky hands, he got dressed, slowly, but still.

They eventually got everyone up and ready. (PoisonBerry made the process more difficult than needed, but still) Blitz suggested they go to Pepper’s café. The walk there was peaceful aside from Blitz’s occasional coughing fits. As the group was walking in, someone walked out. The person rudely bumped shoulders with Amber, calling her a deadbeat lawyer. Blitz saw red. He told the group to go head inside and order. Reluctantly, they agreed. (though PoisonBerry sensed a fight and wanted to join, Midnight glared her down till she went with the rest of the group) He glared at the stranger. The person was, to put it simply, jacked. He had at least a head on Blitz, then again, most people did. (stunted growth along with being biologically female will make you shorter than most other guys) To anyone else, the person seemed to have the upper hand, but Blitz wasn’t planning to fight. He shoved his hands in his pockets and snarled at the stranger.

“I-if we were-weren’t-t i-in p-publi-lic I-I’d b-beh-head you.” The person snorted with laughter in response and Blitz lost control. He lunged at the stranger, his mind far away while his body acted on its own. He felt familiar arms wrap around him, pulling him back. The stranger’s face was a bloody mess. Taking one final look at Blitz, the stranger ran.

“Sir,” he looked up at the voice, and stared into aqua eyes. “I don’t tolerate violence at my establishment.”

“Sorry about him, he’s” He looked at Sundae, her hands in her coat pockets and her eyes filled with shame and embarrassment.

He pushed himself from Pepper’s grip and looked at her. Concern and anger were etched into her features. He dug around his jacket pocket and pulled out two necklaces that were tangled around his fingers. He opened his hand, palm facing down, and the sun and moon pendants glittered in the sunlight. He took Pepper’s hand and placed the necklaces in her palm.

“I-I—uh—h-hope this—th-this m-makes up f-for—for wh-what I-I’ve d-d-one.” He disconnected his hand from hers and nodded towards the door. He and Sundae walked in and sat down at the booth with the others.

“S-s-so, you-you’re law-l-lawyer?” He asked Amber, to get rid of the silence. She laughed, and time seemed to move again.

“Yeah dude, a good one, at that!”

“So, like, is candle-making a hobby or somethin’?” PoisonBerry asked, confused by the new information.

“I think she became a lawyer when her memories were false.” Midnight interjected. The conversation continued while Blitz and Luci stayed silent. Well, at least he was paying attention, Luci was chewing on the napkins. C.C. arrived with their food and drinks and Blitz locked eyes with her. He swore he saw some of recognition there. She smiled at him as she left, and he smiled back.  He saw Pepper rush into the kitchen while they ate. He didn’t expect her or her twin to get their memories back for quite a while, as even when he came back from the dead the first time it took a while for them to remember.

Then the bell jingled, and a lady came in who was obviously trying to conceal her identity, yet even with sunglasses and a hat, he knew who she was. He could smell not only the fear and anxiety radiating off her, but also the faint stench of sulfur. Her name was Lola Viper, and in her hand she held an invitation.

#mango man writes #oc shit #story #i can't figure out how to put something under a 'read more' #writing #abstract the book

[octannibal-blake]

“ Bite me. ”

betcha thought i forgot about you.  surpise! here i am! sorry it took so long! this prompt was under the NSFW tag so this little fic is NSFW. There’s not really a plot, just some good ol’ debatin’ and fuckin’ and yes, those two things happen together. 

p.s this was written at like 4am so all mistakes are mine and i’m sorry in advance. enjoy!

(i never hated you) like i do right nowrated: Mature

“I did not ask you to come over just to have a debate with me, Princess.”

“All I said was that Greek mythology is just another example of patriarchal history,” Clarke says in between gasps as a pair of lips travels the length of her jawline leaving soft kisses long the sharp angles. She hadn’t intended to start an argument. She just so happened to see a copy of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology laying on his coffee table and couldn’t help herself. Any normal person would have just blown it off, especially when considering they’re about to get laid. However, Bellamy Blake is not a normal person. He gets personally offended any time you fudge up history – dates, people, you name it. He’s a know-it-all and he doesn’t care to admit. So she should have known her statement would pick a fight.

But fighting with him his half the fun. It’s what started this whole thing in the first place. They first met last year during a required sociology class when he tried to argue with her about the bystander effect. Now, she’s learned that debates are just who he is, but then she was fired up and ready to serve him good. She did, by the way, though he refuses to acknowledge she won that argument. Their relationship, or, whatever the hell you want to call it has been a clusterfuck ever since. They hate each other. Really, they do. But as her best friend, Raven, so eloquently puts it, there is nothing better than a good hate fuck.

She’s absolutely going to hell.

The first time is an accident. They’re fighting, per usual, at his house during their friends annual game night (yes, as fate would have it, they share a lot of mutual friends so Bellamy Blake became a staple in her life whether she wanted him to or not). It’s about something obscure, at this point she doesn’t remember. What she does remember is somehow ending up almost nose to nose with him, chests heaving after their typical exchange of insults, and his eyes flicking down to her lips. The rest, well, it just sort of happened. She had left his house that night adamant that it would never happen again. She hadn’t intended it to, at least, because she hates him and she got it out of her system.

Except she didn’t. Things spiral fairly quickly from there. So her current predicament is nothing new. In fact, this has been a common occurrence for the last six months. They fight. They fuck. It’s a fun arrangement. Enemies with benefits, if you will.

He places a kiss behind her ear before answering, “And what exactly is patriarchal about it?”

She slides her hand up his bicep, briefly admiring the sculpted muscle of his tanned skin before giving a roll of her eyes, “Half the stories are about Zeus sticking his dick where it doesn’t belong.”

His hand, which had been tracing soft patterns into her hip freeze and she feels him sigh into her neck, “No, that’s just the only stories people seem to know how to tell.”

She curls her hand around his neck, scraping at the hair sitting at the nape and he closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of it. It’s one of his many weaknesses, she’s discovered in their time getting to know each other, or, getting to know each other’s bodies, rather. She knows what makes him tick just as he does her – he can find the right places to touch at the drop of a hat, making her go weak at the knees. It’s definitely problematic, for many, reasons. All of which she chooses to ignore. She could let the argument fade there, kiss him until he finally takes her to his bedroom to fuck her good and well. But honestly, she’s having a bit of fun.

Instead, she pulls away from him and offers a sly smile, “IF it’s not about Zeus fucking his way through society, then it’s about Hercules or some other Hercules-eque hero trying to prove his masculinity.”

This seems to strike a chord with him. She giggles as he leans back with an audible huff, placing himself on the other end of the couch from her. He picks up the topic of discussion from the coffee table and flips through it. He folds the worn paper book back and shows her a highlighted page. She recognizes the title and rolls her eyes. At a glance, yes, it seems to be the kind of title to make one rethink their stance on women in Greek Mythology. But she’s read it and it does quite the opposite. At least, in her interpretation.

She crawls over to him and climbs in his lap easily, placing each of her legs on either side of his thighs. She can feel his dick twitch underneath her and she grinds down in response. He tips his head back to rest on the couch, the book falling loosely to the side. He’s so easily distracted. She takes the opportunity to leave a hot, open-mouthed kiss on his exposed neck and she feels his hands slide onto her hips, gripping them tightly. She ghosts her lips up, tracing his jaw and gently nibbling his ear. She’s got him right where she wants him, eyes unfocused and unprepared for what she says next.

“But the Trojan Women is a tragedy where the women are left to be tortured because men aren’t around to save them,” she whispers and grinds down once more for further effect.

He lets out a low growl before sliding his hands underneath her ass and standing them both up in one smooth motion. The way he sounds in that moment as well as the ease in which picks her up has her attaching her lips back to his neck, sucking at his pulse point as he carries her to the bedroom. He hears his door shut with an audible slam before he tosses her on the bed, eliciting a weirdly high pitched giggle from her (Clarke Griffin doesn’t giggle, except, apparently now she does).

He stands at the foot of the bed, reaching behind him to grab the collar of his shirt before pulling it over his head. She’s seen him naked a fair amount of times, by now, but looking at him is still such an unparalleled experience. The way muscles stretch across his tan skin, across his torso, and into his shoulders. She has a weird attraction to his shoulders, the dips and curves that continue into his back. He has a very nice back.

She thinks she’s won this argument at this point, having nearly forgotten what they were even talking about as he crawls onto the bed to join her. All she can think about is getting him out of his pants and having him fuck her into next week. She can feel the anticipation of it soaking her panties. As if sensing her thoughts, he gives her a smug grin before sliding his hands underneath her t-shirt, stroking at the soft curves of her hips. He pushes her shirt up, kissing from her stomach to her sternum. His hands find the underside of her bra and he slides them underneath it, barely passing along her breasts. She lets out a soft moan as he does it.

He pushes his mouth over her already hardened nipple, his breath hot through the thin fabric of her bra. She grabs his forearm tightly as he does it, reveling in the feel of his mouth on her. This is what he can do – drive her mad by touching her through her clothes. He’s got an amazing mouth, something she had heard about him before she even knew for herself. She was happy to know that he far exceeded the reputation that precedes him. He’s really fucking talented.

He finally moves up to kiss her and she leans in to meet his lips, but he dodges her, pushing his lips to her ears just like she had to him, “The Trojan Women is a story that gave women, who had little to no say in society, a voice.”

He’s toying with her, she realizes, trying to distract her so that she doesn’t win the argument. Leave it to him to still care about proving he’s right when in the middle of serious foreplay. Actually, she’s pretty sure that the debate is adding something to the foreplay. It’s strangely sexy to hear him talking about greek history while in the middle of turning her on. Two can play that game.

She reaches down and grips the hem of her shirt before pulling it over her head. Her breasts are practically spilling out of her bra, her nipple peeking through the fabric from his earlier attention. Deciding to really step up her game, she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, leaving her completely naked on top.

His hands are on her instantly as he leans forward to kiss her. The kiss is soft while his hands palm at her roughly, the perfect contrast. He tries to deepen the kiss, tongue tracing at her bottom lip for entrance. Instead she takes his in between her teeth before pulling back and looking him square in the eye, “All it did was make women sound helpless because men weren’t there to save them.”

He kisses her hungrily and this time she doesn’t pull back, letting their tongues mingle as his hand travels down her sides into the waistband of her jeans. She shivers when his thumb runs along her hip bones and threads her hand into his messy curls so she can gently tug at them. Something about pulling his hair really gets him going. He reacts instantly, popping the button of her pants and sliding down her zipper in one smooth motion. He touches her over panties first, smiling against her lips as he feels how wet she is for him. As if to ensure that she loses all potential comebacks for the argument, he wastes no time pushing her underwear to the side so he can slide a finger in between her folds. She moans a bit louder this time as he begins to circle her clit. She pulls at his hair a little more to encourage him.

He slides a finger, then two, into her before he pulls back and presses a kiss to her nose, “It was a representation of all the shit Greek women were going through in real life.”

He crooks his fingers at just the right angle, then, and though it feels fucking amazing, she’s tired of not having the upper hand. She slides her own hand in between them and feels for the erection currently pressed against her thigh. He adjusts slightly, allowing her to be able to slide comfortably underneath his shorts and boxers to grab him completely. He practically thrusts into her hand and she kisses his shoulder as he tenses at the contact.

“It was written by a man,” she finally responds, though it’s a bit lame after all is said and done. At this point, she’s had plenty of foreplay. She lifts her hips from the bed and he doesn’t hesitate to pull grip each side of her jeans and pull them down, underwear included. He tosses them over the edge of the bed before beginning to push her legs over his shoulder. She doesn’t think she can physically take anymore.

“You know I love it when you fuck me with your mouth but if you do not get inside me within the next thirty seconds, I’m going to lose it.”

He laughs then, full and rich, and he backs off the bed with his hands raised in defense, “Your wish is my command, Princess.”

He kicks off his shorts and boxers before crawling on top of her. She spreads her legs, ready to feel all of him but he isn’t quite finished with her yet. He slides his cock over her entrance teasingly, running it up and down her sex but not pushing in. She wraps her legs around his waist to pull him closer but he seems to determined to make her suffer.

“Beg for it,” he growls into her ear. It’s one of the things that makes sex with him so exhilarating. He can be soft and gentle, but also really fucking dirty. And demanding, which came as a surprise to her because she’s the kind of person who has to be in charge but she loves when he tells her what to do. She aches for him in those moments, kind of like now.

“I need you to fuck me,” she complies, locking her eyes into his so he can see how much she wants him. At first, she thinks he’s going to make her work for it a little more, but then he pushes into her ever so slowly, filling her up with all of him. They both moan at the feel of it, familiar, warm, and perfect. He places a kiss onto her collarbone, then on her chin, and her cheek. He starts moving, slow strokes in and out of her as his hand strokes her side. She had been prepared for something rough and quick but the slower pace is so fucking good.

She can feel her orgasm already building, the foreplay having done a good job at getting her wound up. She’s so focused on the feeling in her core, she almost doesn’t hear him when leans his forehead on hers.

“I win.” he says and if she weren’t so fucking into this, she would shove him onto the floor. She wishes she could think of something clever to say back. SOmething witty or snarky but she can’t really focus on anything except the feel of him inside her.

“Bite me,” she manages to get out, the only two words she string together coherently. He only grins when she says it, leaning down to bit her shoulder, eliciting another long moan out of her as he runs his tongue over the mark he definitely left.

“Fuck,” she sighs as he does it, loving the feel of his teeth pressing into her soft skin. While she may have lost the debate, she’s determined to assert herself in some way.

She hooks her leg over his hip and pushes up. He picks up on the hint quickly, allowing her to flip them over so he his on his back and she straddles him. She sinks down onto him, using his forearms for support and she feels much more satisfied watching his eyes nearly roll back into his head.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he tells her, watching her ride him with such reverence it should actually scare her. The first time she had noticed it, it had. But now she understands that Bellamy is just very vocal about his appreciation, he likes telling her how good she look because he knows it gets her off. It does.

She picks up the pace, her breasts bouncing with each movement, and she can feel the edge coming closer. He reaches down to begin circling her clit again, causing her legs to shake uncontrollably.

“Come for me, baby,” he demands, meeting her thrust for thrust as his hand works it’s magic on her as well. His other hand reaches up for her, grabbing her neck and pulling her down into a searing kiss. He kisses his way into her soul, all passion and fire as she finally feels herself teetering over the edge. She moans into his mouth as she comes, and he continues to slam his hips into her. He takes her through the entire orgasm, kissing her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. She can tell he’s almost there as well but still needs that extra push.

“You’re so fucking good,” she purrs into his ear, “You always make me feel so good, Bell.”

He grips her hips in response, his own way of encouraging her to go on. She slows her movement, pushing herself up to his tip before slamming back down, “You look so sexy underneath me like this.”

“Fuck,” he breathes as he watches her, “Amazing, you’re fucking amazing. So good.”

“You gonna come for me, Bell? Huh?” she leans back and places her hands on his thighs, the angle change causing him to curse into the void. She goes with it, rocking her hips back and forth. It doesn’t take long before he taps her thigh and she moves off him quickly, getting him into her mouth before he comes with a guttural moan. She swallows him with a crooked smile as he takes a deep, shaky breath. She collapses next to him on the bed, chest heaving wildly.

He reaches for her, pulling her into his chest and stoking her back gently, eliciting  different kind of goosebumps along her spine. The cuddling is a relatively new development, though something they both seem to thoroughly enjoy. She prefers it like this, rather than awkwardly finding her clothes and leaving as quick as possible. She hadn’t thought him a post sex cuddler but he’s into it almost more than she is.

They lay there in silence for a while, just regaining their breath and relaxing into each other. Their debate seems long forgotten until she thinks of it, giggling softly at the thought.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she smiles into his chest, “I think that was the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever had.”

He looks down at her with a smoke, “You’re really hot when you argue greek history with me.”

She pinches his arm playfully, “You just like to fight with me.”

“True,” he agrees, “I also like winning fights with you.”

She scoffs at that, “You rarely ever win.”

“I just did,” he points out, tightening his arm around her when she tries to pull away.

“I call bullshit,” she laughs as she pretends to struggle in his arms, “You distracted me.”

“Face it, Princess, I’m just smarter,” he pins her to the bed with his body before tickling her side. She doesn’t want to laugh, she wasn’t to argue that statement alone, but he’s playing dirty.

“I hate you,” she manages with a laugh and he leans down to kiss her, quick and chaste. He has his signature crooked smile on when he pulls away and she realizes then how completely and totally screwed she is.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says quietly, his hand reaching up to move a stray curl from her forehead, “I hate you too.”

And it  isn’t true. Not even a little bit (but it’ll take a little longer for both of them to realize it).

#bellarke fanfiction #smut #plot what plot #liz answers #my writing #some good ol enemies to lovers #my attempt at sexy writing #lmaooooo

[turnsoutimlesbian]

I never truly liked anyone as a kid. All of my boy crushes I self-assigned because that’s what the other girls were doing: liking boys. To fit in with them, I told myself I did too.

It was a ripe mid-summer day and at age 12, I took up rummaging through my parent’s garage as my activity for the day. There was a box belonging to my dad full of old photos and papers, even a graduation cap. Then, something so taboo to my preteen eyes, I came across a 1995 Playboy magazine featuring nearly twenty-year-old Drew Barrymore. She had a little butterfly tattoo below her bellybutton. I had never seen a photo like this before. Something about her made me come back to that garage day after day. I didn’t do anything- I just looked. And kept looking.

There was a girl in school I was friends with. I thought she was beyond cool, and when I saw a Ludo sticker in her locker I, too, started listening to Ludo. I came to her house and drew on her bedroom walls as she showed me how to cut a mango properly (cut as close to the seed as possible, then cut your slice horizontally and vertically, not piercing the skin: then push inside-out). I was mystified by her presence. She hugged me and I got butterflies. Just like the butterfly I’ve been sneaking off to go see.

**It’s to be noted that both Drew Barrymore and this girl I had this youthful homo-platonic relationship with are attracted to women. Straight girls have never been my type.

With both my mother and my current compulsory heterosexual boy-crush being openly bisexual, it didn’t take long for me to accept my attraction to my own gender. But also being very aware of the realities of mainstream society, along with whispers at sleepovers about the girl in choir class not being invited because she liked girls, I knew I had to keep this to myself. I knew other people would think wrongly of me, but I had never thought negatively on my newfound attraction. I accepted myself immediately, albeit sadly not expressing it. (Who teaches young girls how to flirt with other girls? It’s not a common conversation among middle school cliques. At least not circa 2009. I had no idea now to even go about that).

It’s hard understanding not just your attraction to the same gender, but your lack of attraction to the gender you’re told you’re “supposed” to be attracted to. I had accepted liking girls and didn’t give a single thought to my supposed attraction to boys. Lesbian was an unattainable label.

Years pass, and I give excuses to being not attracted to guys my age, such as the result of being in a very committed relationship. Things did happened with girls, either unknowingly (as we had not blossomed in our own sexuality or gender to be aware it was gay to begin with), or without romantic attraction (kissing girls, but no spark). [Spoiler: demisexual]. Years prolong and I go through labels, passing right over the answer and going to many.. many others. If I couldn’t feel comfortable in a m/f relationship, maybe I was a boy sometimes? I was more comfortable being a boyfriend to a guy than his girlfriend. No, okay, still off. Oh, okay, demisexual? No [yes], I’m probably asexual [false]. Then. Maybe grey-ace. Okay... just towards men I’m asexual and girls I’m... not (hint: not really how being asexual works. Nor did I actually like men romantically, I was just making excuses). Nobody ever told me not liking guys was an option.

Now, asexual people exist. Bisexual people exist. Genderfluid boys exist. And I don’t want my temporary try-ons of these sexualities and genders to invalidate people who really are these identities. I simply was just trying to figure myself out, and just because it wasn’t a reality for me doesn’t mean it isn’t for someone else.

With thinking I was bi for some eight years, and some of the closest people in my life being bisexual, I hope to be the best ally I can be, and for people to know that just because I didn’t know myself well enough, doesn’t mean bisexuality is a stepping stone to coming out. It is a complete identity. (A good analogy I’ve heard is that it’s not a chocolate-vanilla twist: but strawberry. A whole and complete flavor).

Also, as most people who are LGBT+ know, but maybe not others, it’s a very common experience to be every LGBT label under the sun before finding yourself. Questioning is normal. Sometimes you might just know you’re lgbt but just not know the specifics. For me, finding the specifics was good. It’s not necessary for everyone, though.

Anyway,

In the midst of being on zoloft, being in the end of a relationship with a guy, and identifying as asexual, a past partner came out as a woman. The only person I had genuinely been attracted to. Our renewed sapphic friendship became gayer and gayer, and something to me became clearer and clearer: Lesbian.

It was on the internet that nobody had stated so simply to be before: anyone can be a lesbian. It wasn’t some unattainable thing like it had been before, and it was being used in a real human context. Not a throw away joke in a movie, not a whisper in a hallway, not a male sexualization fantasy. Real people just existing and using this identity. (Note to self: contact ex-step-aunt for being a subtle normalization of lesbianism as a child that went over my head).

I started reading about compulsory heterosexuality, something that affects all women, but specifically lesbians. I highly recommend briefing yourself on it.

It didn’t work out with said girl but I did understand myself better. I had never really been excited to this extent about my sexuality before. (To be noted, my relationship with my own gender was also becoming clearer, too, as my womanhood is completely intertwined with my lesbianism and cannot be separated. A nuance most understood by nonbinary lesbians, but I digress).

I was in a single-dating cycle for a year (layered with “not” dating.. again, said girl), with another long stretch of being single, and then my final re-download of tinder. A date! Different than the other dates. We shared milkshakes from a vegan food truck and talked way past nightfall. I saw her the very next day and we admired the stars together. I had never immediately been attracted to someone in my entire life, until now. This was also so... positive. No weird feelings, no guilt, and nothing unrequited. Mutual butterflies. Laughing like friends and kissing like lovers. I found her, I found her!

—

I think whatever label you are is whatever feels most freeing. If it feels constricting, it’s not for you. To me this has been the most freeing experience. I had a weird relationship with the idea of marriage (for me personally), and before would rather be a husband than ever have one. But now with absolute excitement in my heart, I can say that I will be a wife, and have a wife.

P.S. Kara, I know you’re not my wife yet and you’re still my fiancée, but I’m just so excited! It’s like how I called you babe (and saying ‘I love you’) in my head many times before ever saying it out loud. It’s always been a truth.

Kara, I’m in lesbians with you.

[dreamsndrabbles]

Closer: Chapter II

SIX MONTHS AGO

‘Hey Baby.’

‘Ugh, get off me Tom.’ I push the arm off my shoulder with a disgusted look and snarl at the blonde beside me. I have yet to recall a time where Tom wasn’t trying to get into my pants, but from my memory there isn’t one. He’s a slimy git who’s constantly getting on my nerves and looking to satisfy his carnal desires with me, Well, it’s not going to happen. As bad as my reputation is, I still have standards. I am fully aware of the fact that I’m no saint, considering the three deep bruises covering the length of my sunkissed neck, but on the whole, I like to think I’m not a whore.

Jackson would say otherwise. Wang and I are pretty dynamite to be honest. I mean, that’s what you get when you know someone for the better half of your life. Forget ‘diapers and pacifiers’ we got close in high school; yeah, you know, the important years when you make your friends for life and all that jazz? To be fair, it did play out true. When I was younger and being called out and constantly reminded of my partially parentless status, my mother always told me that friends at this age didn’t matter, that it was only when I grew older, went through puberty, that I would learn to make proper friends. For once she was right about something. Jackson came into my life at a dark stage, he’s the only one who knows the history of my tragic family background and the secrets I hide behind a façade of pearly whites. I love Jackson. He doesn’t judge, doesn’t take sides and always is there to listen to my honestly terrifying rants. He’s honestly a fucking ray of sunshine in my very stormy, turbulent life, one of the only constants. But he’s also stupid as hell sometimes.

‘It’s Bae!’ A pair of outstretched arms come towards me and I slap them away. ‘Fuck off Wang,’ I mutter as I roll my eyes. ‘Well, hello to you too,’ he muses, falling into step with me, ‘What’s got your panties in a twist today?’ He high-fives some of the frat members as he passes them, greeting them with unnecessary cheers and some long, complicated handshakes. Again, unnecessary. Ugh, boys. I will never understand. As pulling his arm isn’t working and he’s slowing me down, I turn to him and fold my arms. ‘Just so you know, my panties aren’t in a twist because I was wearing a thong. And furthermore, I wouldn’t know if they are in a twist or not, because they’re currently not covering my ass.’ That does it, and seven pairs of amused eyes stare back at me, eyes shot up. ‘Wait, what?!’ Jackson’s jaw hangs and I use a finger to push it back up and close it. I roll my eyes again, something that seems to be very common nowadays. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake Jackson, don’t be so dramatic. Now can we please go?’ I wave it off and tap my foot on the ground impatiently, watching as his face contorts from one of surprise to one of annoyance and he narrows his eyes. ‘Who is it?’ He asks suspiciously, as if he’s questioning some sort of murder case. Jackson Wang: investigator? I think the fuck not. ‘That’s actually none of your concern.’ I raise an eyebrow and purse my lips. Jackson continues to frown and out the corner of my eye I spot his frat members watching quietly, highly amused. This isn’t something new. We’re always in situations like this. Jackson isn’t exactly approving of the way I tend to flit around with my sex life, and well, relationships. Or lack thereof. In his mind, I should find myself a decent guy who will restore all ideas of fairytale romance and true love, and settle down in a nice big house with twenty children for him to ‘uncle around’. Not bloody likely. We both know that romance really isn’t my forte, and the only relations I have are sexual ones, with fairly hot men who are usually beasts in the sheets. I won’t stand to have some boy following me around all day and constantly questioning my whereabouts, my life details and aspirations. It’s not worth the time or effort to maintain. Besides, the closest I’ve ever had to a relationship is my weekly shags with a certain member of the ZTA frat, who is, by the way, pretty well endowed down there. (Thus the repetition of events.) Apart from that, I really haven’t ever been close to serious with anyone. Ever. I mean, I lost my virginity at some high school party to the prom king. Big deal. I honestly couldn’t care less about the breaking of a barrier. It doesn’t matter to me. Sex is just another part of human nature. So long as I don’t end up with a mini-me in my care, it’s all good. No matter what Wang puppy thinks.

Seeing as Jackson is acting like a kid and refusing to budge until he gets an answer, I tilt my head and let out a huff. ‘Fine. If you must know-’ Before my confession, a pair of arms slide around my middle and a warm breath falls upon my neck as the musky smell of Dolce and Gabbana’s Light Blue fills my senses. ‘Eyyy, how’s everything at ZTA Tae?’ Jaebum slaps his arm and he lets go of me and moves to engulf his ‘bro’ in a hug. ‘We’re so crashing your party this week.’ ‘Be my guest.’ A wolfish grin spreads across his face and I take the time to admire just how attractive he is when he smiles. As the AKP boys circle around to talk to Tae, I take the time to relish in how, despite my lack of relationship, it feels good to be at the centre of high society. I wouldn’t use anything less to describe theses boys. They’re the future billionaires and tycoons of the country, popular, hot, successful and effortlessly cool. And here I am, standing right in the middle of them, one of their arms around my shoulder. Life is good.

Kim Taehyung is a little hard to describe in words. He is vibrant and energetic, super fun and zesty. In the bed too, might I add. He’s what I like to call ‘my kinda person’. Tae and I go way back. Remember that prom king I mentioned earlier? Well, Tada. Since being crowned together at high school, we haven’t looked back. Somehow, whilst Wang puppy is the yin to my yang, he’s another yang that I get along with just fine. We think the same and act the same, like two peas in a pod. He’s one of the few people who can really make me smile and laugh like no other. We both don’t believe in relationships, and even though I used to think I would somehow end up with him, it’s been pure fun and recklessness for the past three years. It’s actually funny how I ended up back with him. We parted ways after a summer of releasing our crazy hormones on each other, and then somehow met again in our first year I was invited by my flavor of the week, Jeon Jungkook, to his frat house. Needless to say, Jungkook wasn’t the one I ended up banging. I love it with Tae because it’s so easy and simple. We have mutual respect for each other, a true connection and chemistry and no hard feelings whatsoever. He’s attractive and fun, and he doesn’t complain if I ditch him or set my eyes on someone else. It’s a mutually benefitting relationship that I treasure. Besides, I get to spend loads of time with the ZTA boys that have become some of my closest pals, who always promise a hilarious and crazy time. I’m familiar with the AKP boys but nowhere near as close to them as the ZTA frat. The AKP is led by Mark Tuan and the ZTA is led by Kim Namjoon. Needless to say, AKP is way more exclusive and ‘high up there’ compared to ZTA. They’re both still the best frats in the college and up in the country’s top 5. It’s just whilst ZTA is number four, AKP is number one. And I totally understand why. In AKP it’s not just about parties and fun, and boys with more money than they need to go around. It’s about being the prime. To get into ZTA you need to be fun, daring, smart and rich. To get into AKP you need to be able to throw insane parties whilst attending formal dinners with the president. Big difference. But hey, I like my AKP boys. With the leadership of Namjoon they’re nothing short of fun and amazing. He’s not very strict or exclusive, he’s an open guy who’s opposed to restriction and exclusion and very happy to have company over. The boys are like young bloods, a very excitable and fiery bunch. Far more so than the AKP boys. To most of us, they’re pretty much untouchable. Like Jordan in the Great Gatsby. Phenomenal parties, insane amounts of funds raised, dominating the famous college football team and straight-A students. Yet, totally exclusive and always suspecting and doubting. According to Jackson they’re really nice and fun guys, and they just prefer to keep their private lives private for fear of people leaking things to the press. But I still don’t see it. Sometimes, I still feel uncomfortable when I’m alone with them without Wang puppy. Trust him to diffuse the tension with his retarded jokes.

I catch Mark’s eyes as the conversation goes on, and the sounds fade away into white noise as they lock onto mine for a second. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as the hard stare continues. It’s like he’s reading my thoughts and onyx eyes bore into mine. Then, he looks away and I blink. What was that? I shudder as I look away just as the conversation comes to an end. Then, I realize that Mark’s eyes are still staring. Not at me, but the muscular arm around my shoulder. Oh. He probably disapproves of Tae going after me. It’s famously known that Mark thinks highly of Tae and thinks he’s one of the best football players around. Somehow, I don’t think he approves of his choice of girl. After all, had he chosen someone more appropriate, he would be nearly as perfect as the boys in AKP. Untouchable by anyone apart from their own league. Personally, I just think Mark has a problem with me. He’s always known for being the king of fun and games, but with me? He just becomes the silent, brooding type. Weird, huh? I think he just thinks I’m a bad influence for Jackson, despite Wang’s protests. ‘He’s just assessing you,’ he always defends. Huh. More like judging. I don’t get what there is to assess. Or judge. I’m pretty much an open book. Well, at least that’s what it looks like. I have an opinion, I say it. I have an issue, I put it on the table. Everything is out in the open, except for the biggest things. Ironic, huh?

‘Baby, I gotta dash.’ I’m blown out of my reverie as Tae presses a kiss to the side of my forehead. ‘Staying over?’ he whispers. The boys wolf whistle as he turns and presses his lips onto mine, his tongue asking for permission. ‘Not here, Hyung!’ Jackson groans as he covers his eyes. Tae chuckles and pulls me to him. Then he pulls something red and lacy out of his pocket as he kisses me one last time. ‘Gotta come over and get it, sweetheart.’ He waves it as he retreats and slowly, I lose him in the sea of passing students. I throw my head back and laugh, turning back to face Jackson. ‘What?’ I giggle at the ‘dawning of a realization’ expression on his face.

‘You guys fucked BEFORE school?’ He gapes.

‘Wang, you’re dumb as fuck.’

#mark #marktuan #mark scenarios #got7 angst #got7 scenarios #mark angst #mark smut #got7 mark smut #got7 mark scenarios #got7

[geektified]

New Post has been published on http://www.geektified.com/2017/04/25/the-raw-expose-night-of-the-dumpster-aka-kalistos-last-ride-not-based-on-a-power-rangers-story/

The Raw Exposé: Night of the Dumpster - AKA Kalisto's Last Ride (Not Based on a Power Rangers Story)

By: Keila Cash

  Hello everyone and welcome to another installment of The Raw Exposé. Tonight’s episode of Monday Night Raw emanated from The Sprint Center in Kansas City, Missouri. This is the last show before Payback and with the Superstar Shakeup blurring the brand split lines, it’s a tricky PPV to figure out because some wrestlers are trying to hype their matches alone while their opponents are on another show doing the same thing.

  It’s awkward, but this should be a one-shot deal to wrap up outstanding storylines dating back to WrestleMania. Did WWE work out the kinks in terms of logic or was this a case of the blind leading the blind heading into the PPV in San Jose? The answer to that question can be found throughout this blog. Without further ado, let’s dissect tonight’s episode of Raw in no particular order.

  The Highlight Reel/Miz TV/Ambrose Asylum hybrid featuring Chris Jericho, The Miz, Maryse, and Dean Ambrose was a fun way to start the show.

  The segment dragged at times, but I appreciate WWE remembering the Jericho-Ambrose feud from last year as Ambrose brought up how Jericho smashed Mitch the Plant over his head and how he returned the favor by ripping up Y2J’s Light Up Jacket. Jericho reminded Ambrose that he still owed him $15,000. Ambrose didn’t have any cash on hand, but he gave Jericho a jacket adorned with Christmas Lights as a peace offering.

  Jericho put the Jacket on and struck a few poses while Miz whined about not getting a gift. Ambrose responded by nailed Miz with Dirty Deeds while Jericho put Maryse on LIST for marrying a stupid idiot as the opening segment came to an end.

  This was a long talking segment, but I enjoyed it for the most part. Jericho’s material was so-so as his jokes about Kevin Owens were a little flat which did little to hype their United States Championship match at Payback. Things got better once Miz and Ambrose came out which ended the opener on a high note.

  Matt Hardy defeated Sheamus with the Twist of Fate, but it wasn’t without controversy. Sheamus nailed Hardy in the face with a sick high knee. Hardy tried to counter with his finisher on the floor, but Sheamus laid him out with a rolling senton instead. Jeff tried to check on his brother, but Sheamus pushed him out of the way.

  Jeff climbed on the ring apron to confront the Celtic Warrior, but Cesaro yanked him off the apron which led to the finish.

  The Mutual Admiration Society between both teams was about to hit the skids, but cooler heads prevailed as everyone shook hands which kept the babyface vs. babyface dynamic intact heading into their Raw Tag Team Championship match on Sunday.

  Jack Gallagher and Austin Aries defeated Neville and TJ Perkins when Aries nailed Perkins with the Discus Five Arm for the win. The match was short, but Aries maximized his minutes when he made the hot tag midway through the match.

  Aries put on a one-man show when he took out Neville and TJP with a suicide dive. Aries was about to make TJP tap out to The Last Chancery, but Neville broke the hold in the nick of time. Gentleman Jack evened the odds when he nailed Neville with a head butt. TJP tried to capitalize on Gallagher knocking himself loopy, but Gallagher was alert enough to steer Perkins in Aries’ direction which set up the finishing sequence. Overall, this was a fine way to hype the Cruiserweight Championship match between Aries and Neville at Payback.

  Did Kalisto use Kane’s old masks to create his new Lucha mask? Hmm…

  The record will always show that Kalisto defeated Braun Strowman in a Dumpster Match. However, the victory became mute when Strowman destroyed Kalisto when he dropped him with a series of one-handed slams before tossing him against the barricade.

  Strowman put Kalisto in the dumpster and pushed it up the ramp. WWE officials tried to stop Strowman as he strapped the dumpster shut. He pretended to head backstage only to push the dumpster off the stage as the segment came to an end.

  The spot was nice, but it wasn’t spectacular because the drop wasn’t that steep. In comparison to Strowman’s recent feats of strength, The Dumpster spot was more meh than wow.

  Strowman’s promo before the match was good as he tried to generate heel heat by calling the fans trash. At least the creative team is trying to get him over as a badass heel who should be jeered instead of cheered.

  Bray Wyatt cut another rambling promo about Randy Orton leading up to their House of Horrors match at Payback. Yawn…

  Dana Brooke defeated Alicia Fox when she dropped Fox with an ugly version of the Michinoku Driver for the win. The match was short, but it was still rough in spots.

  After the match was over, Emma got in the ring and gave Brooke a half-hearted hug before heading backstage. That was odd…

  Before the six-man tag team match featuring Enzo Amore, Big Cass, and Seth Rollins vs. Karl Anderson, Luke Gallows, and Samoa Joe got underway, Anderson, Gallows, and Joe ambushed Enzo and Big Cass during their in-ring introductions. Cass went flying over the barricade while Anderson and Gallows took out Enzo with The Magic Killer onto the floor.

  Seth Rollins ran out to make the save, but he was tripled teamed until Big Cass evened the odds.

  After the commercial break, Kurt Angle announced that Enzo wasn’t medically cleared to compete. Angle added Finn Bálor to the match as the six man tag officially got underway.

  Big Cass, Finn Bálor, and Seth Rollins defeated Karl Anderson, Luke Gallows, and Samoa Joe when Rollins nailed Anderson with a knee to the face for the win.

  The match started off slow as Bálor was in sell mode early on, but things picked up down the stretch. It appears that Rollins is retiring his Pedigree finisher because it’s a reminder of who he used to be before getting his much-needed epiphany a few weeks ago. Bálor’s interaction with Gallows and Anderson was nice and I hope WWE plays into their history in New Japan because the possibilities are endless in terms of storytelling and future feuds. *Cough* The Balor Club vs. The Shield *Cough*

  Alexa Bliss powered through the “What?” chants and delivered a solid promo as she vowed to put an end to Bayley’s Cinderella Story at Payback. Bliss wanted to embarrass Bayley in her hometown by winning the Raw Women’s Championship while her father was sitting in the front row.

  Sasha Banks came to her best friend’s defense and challenged Bliss to match. Bliss tried to dodge The Boss, but Banks clocked Bliss in the face to signal that the match was still on.

  Banks defeated Bliss via count-out when Bliss decided to save her energy until Sunday.

  Bayley tried to drag Bliss back in the ring, but Bliss ran for the hills. However, Bliss attacked Bayley from behind which added some heat leading up to their Women’s Championship match at Payback.

  Banks chased Bliss away before checking on Bayley as the segment came to an end.

  The promo exchange leading up Banks vs. Bliss was good. The creative team had to build up the Women’s Title match between Bayley and Bliss in one night. Considering the tight deadline, they managed to make it work. However, Bliss’ lines were recycled from her feud with Becky Lynch as the Cinderella comparison was a direct lift from a segment on SD Live last fall. Outside of that, the promo work was solid for the most part.

  Apollo Crews pinned Curt Hawkins with the Spinout Powerbomb in a decent match. I guess Crews will be elevated to the main event next week after passing through Curt Hawkins’ Star Factory.

  Dean Ambrose and Chris Jericho vs. The Miz and his mystery partner ended with no clear winner as Bray Wyatt showed up to save Miz from getting dropped with Dirty Deeds on the announce table. Wyatt attacked Ambrose and nailed him with Sister Abigail which sent The Lunatic Fringe head first into the LED board.

  Jericho tried to make the save, but he was double teamed by Miz and Wyatt.

  Miz threw Jericho back in the ring only for Jericho to nail him with the Codebreaker. Wyatt laid out Jericho with Sister Abigail as Miz smiled like a Cheshire Cat.

  Miz’s cockiness got the best of him as Wyatt took him out with Sister Abigail to complete the trifecta as Raw went off the air with Wyatt telling everyone to “Follow The Buzzards.”

  The Good News: Bray Wyatt is not a Hollywood Elitist because the mere thought of him teaming up with The Miz would have been a classic case of character assassination.

  The Bad News: The ending of the match was lame.  This was such a weak way to end the show. The main event was pretty one-sided with Miz getting his ass kicked for 95% of the match. Wyatt being the last man standing was fine, but it was counterproductive for a number of reasons.

  Ambrose gets beat up which means he should want a piece of Wyatt next week even though he’s been feuding with Miz since the Superstar Shakeup.

  Jericho looks weak heading into his United States Title rematch against Owens because he hasn’t picked up any key wins to build momentum. With Y2J going on tour with Fozzy next month, he should’ve been built up as a legit contender instead of a lame duck opponent who has one foot out the door.

  Miz looks like a chump without a clear sense of direction. Instead of Ambrose and Miz facing off for the IC Title, The Hollywood A-Lister is probably going to be on the receiving end of another ass whopping courtesy of Bálor at the Payback Kickoff Show. Coup de Grace, anyone?

  As for Wyatt, he looks strong heading into his House of Horrors match against Randy Orton. However, the WWE Championship is not on the line which makes this camp fest extravaganza pointless outside of Wyatt picking up a moral victory to avenge the spirit of Sister Abigail. Regardless of the outcome, I’m glad the Wyatt-Orton saga is coming to an end because it’s way past its expiration date.

  Overall, I thought tonight’s episode of Raw was pedestrian at best. The opening segment was entertaining, but the in-ring action was hit and miss. The go-home show didn’t give me added incentive to watch Payback on Sunday. The card looks solid, but it’s a show that is very skippable based on the so-so build.

  On the bright side, WWE played it smart by keeping Roman Reigns off the show for another week. Braun Strowman has been built up like an indestructible monster in recent weeks. It is imperative that Strowman beats Reigns on Sunday. If not, it’s another questionable booking decision that puts his push into a state of flux once again. We shall see how it all plays out on Sunday.

  The Payback PPV should be a good show, but the buildup leaves a lot to be desired terms of excitement and anticipation. Here’s hoping the wrestlers have their working boots on because they have to over deliver in order to make up for the uneven booking decisions over the past couple of weeks. Fingers crossed!

  On that note, this wraps up another edition of The Raw Exposé. I hope you enjoyed it and I will be back tomorrow night with another installment of The SmackDown Files. See you later, boys and girls!

#Braun Strowman #Bray Wyatt #Chris Jericho #Dean Ambrose #Monday Night Raw #Payback #The Miz #WWE #WWE Universe