#I have to conclude that this is a good goddamn month to be a fan of the green fucker

[theindiscreetbookworm]

I've had anxiety since before I knew what that was (and it was the 90s so a quiet and careful child was a good child, never mind the reason). I fell in love with stories as a way to escape, at first. I think I probably dissociated for a bunch of my childhood and adolescence.

Stories were my favourite way to experience emotions. When I figured out what being a fan of something was (far later than you'd think), I dove in head first and didn't look back. There's probably more than a decade of evidence of that right here.

Stories climbed into my chest and ached in the most beautiful, wonderful way. Somewhere along the way, though, the edges of the stories got sharper, or maybe the cavity inside my chest got smaller. It started hurting in a bad way, made my head swim and made me dizzy and sick. I started collecting scars, from breakups and failures and letdowns, and they made me afraid to care too much.

2017 may have been the real juncture, although I can't be sure. I used to spend all my time on tumblr and I stopped, really slowly, but surely. I stopped engaging with media I was really interested in; I never watched a bunch of shows that I know I would've liked. I retreated to podcasts and YouTube, and things that were interesting but not fascinating. (Nothing wrong with podcasts and YouTube, I still like them!)

I've been in therapy a long time, the better part of the last decade. It's been great. I've been with my current therapist for 5 years and learned more in long form therapy than I ever thought possible. We got me out of my head, where my anxiety has always lived. (I say that, but I'm still in my head, just less than I was.) I was on the verge of "graduating" therapy. And then new physical symptoms cropped up.

I couldn't breathe. At first, whenever I was a bit anxious. It started happening more and more, culminating in a 10 day period where I couldn't draw a full breath at all. I went to my doctor. Chest x-ray came back clean, as did blood work. We concluded that it must be my anxiety.

I've been afraid of meds for a long time. I can't articulate why exactly very well, but I'm afraid of losing my control of my own body and mind. Of feeling a way I don't want to and not being able to do anything about it. (I am aware of the inconsistencies of that and having a mental illness, yes.) But I didn't know what else to do.

Long story short, I got a psychiatrist for the first time in my life, brand new meds, and a trial period. It's not even a month in, and changes have been gradual. Until I watched Our Flag Means Death.

I'm sure it could've been anything. There's a miles long backlog of shows I will love that I couldn't bear to care about. But I picked OFMD. Watched it in two sessions, the first 4 episodes and then, a week and a half later, the other 6. And my blood is alight.

I thought I'd lost this feeling for good. I want to write, and read (stopped reading books and fanfic too when everything else stopped). I want to engage and ponder and yell all of it from the rooftops. I want to love OFMD, and everything, openly and unabashedly. I care so goddamn much. And it aches. And it feels incredible.

I'm not afraid anymore, of almost anything. I hadn't realized that had happened. This seems small and silly but it feels like my life has been changed. I feel like I've fallen in love. I'm not gonna say I didn't know how bad it had gotten, because I did on some level. I just thought those feelings were over for me. Therapy took away the terror I lived in every day. But I think medication has given me the light back.

#personal #long post #anxiety #mental health #a return if you will #okay people we're overhauling #moisturized in my lane crying about Blackbeard #welcome home

[see-arcane]

The Mighty Thor #701 and Loki: Sorcerer Supreme, Thoughts and Spoilers

The Mighty Thor #701, part one of The Death of the Mighty Thor arc

-Mangog is back and goggier than ever

-War Thor wants to tap* that**

-*bludgeon

-**that big Mangoggian Tiki god face

-Oh hey, there’s the Roxxon guys again! I guess Dario’s out of jail maybe? We don’t see him really, just the dragon-juiced muscle heads fighting the Vanir

-And oh look a hefty dose of napalm isn’t that nice

-There’s a bit of backstory given regarding the whole ‘creature born from the rage of a billion+ victims’ origin and a fairly decent upgrade to Mangog now being strong(er) due to taking on the mantle of a sort of judge/jury/executioner of ‘failed’ gods, those deities who do not answer their supplicants’ prayers or else go around, you know, slaughtering entire races or whatever. At least this is his Big Motive now

-He beats Volstagg to a pulp (RIP Ultimate Mjolnir, thanks MCU synergy) 

-Balder greets Karnilla in Helheim! There’s a loving embrace! Yay!

-also fire giants are there to cook their immortal souls to a crisp golden brown and put Sindr on Hel’s throne*

-*seriously Hel’s throne has been holding more asses than the knife chair from G.o.T. at this point

-War Thor loses :c

-and is left to dangle from his less-mangled hand on the edge of Old Asgard :C

-and Mangog wants to know where the rest of the gods are so he can keep doing his Mangogging but Volstagg says him NAY >:C

-Malekith: Hey, guy. Manny. My gog. 

Volstagg: Bitch don’t

Malekith: ;)

Volstagg: Do Not

Malekith: :3c

Volstagg: NO

Malekith: Fine, fine I won’t tell him

Mangog: Tell me what?

Malekith: That the gods are now residing in scenic Asgardia, right next to Saturn, big shiny chunk of god junk just floating there, defenseless, with your mortal enemy Odin sitting in it like a creamy, killable center. In case any mans or gogs wanted to know. 

Mangog: :D

Volstagg: D:

Malekith:  ❤️

Doctor Strange #381, first part of the Loki: Sorcerer Supreme arc

-I don’t know where to start hold on just hold on j

-just

-Okay

-ok

-SO

-I don’t know Ms. Zelma Stanton well, but I think I’ll like her. As far as I know she’s an established Doctor Strange character and Dr. S’s assistant/apprentice, so it’s understandable that we (S T I L L) can’t have Verity in the supporting character spotlight. We can’t tell yet if she’s playing a part to get close to Loki, but seeing as she seems to appreciate his humor* even when he’s out of earshot and is willing to trade phone numbers, I think this bit’s genuine**

-*”BY THE POWER OF THE DECIMALS OF DEWEY, BEHOLD! THE GREATEST LIBRARY IN ALL OF THE TEN REALMS!” 

-**Loki now has two (2!) bespectacled friends (we’ll give Zelma the benefit of the doubt)

-Question for Doctor Strange fans: Did the Sanctum Sanctorum always have a plethora of snakes roaming the halls ranging from safely noodle-sized to the size of a scaly redwood tree? 

If so, cool. 

If not, Loki introduced talking snakes to the Sanctum Sanctorum. 

Either way, the green fucker has put the Fear of Loki into the house-snakes to the point of them anxiously wheedling the apprentice into telling the house’s new master that they are Good and Respectful snakes, please tell him, p l e a s e

-Okay, artist, you’ve got some hits and some misses here with the characters. Mostly hits (I do like Wanda’s look in her costume and her civvies) but there are some bits where Loki looks a bit too much like he spent the night in a dumpster even for my questionable taste. Though, again, more hits than misses, because hey! Crazy-eyed, insomnia bags, scraggly-edged God of Stories is coming through again!

-Also, Loki is Not Good at playing with the other magical kids on the block. He comes off like the really eager newcomer who goes up to the cool people clique with cookies and questions he’s too new to know are out-of-place, the clique mocks him, Loki gets frustrated and picks a fight, then sulks off to text a friend about the mess :c

-Sidenote, the actual suggestion Loki brings up during the bar scene is really pretty interesting. If it hadn’t been Loki making the suggestion--and seriously, it’s a hell of a thing to want to try, even for a masochistic, slightly-deranged god trying to do his unique version of Good--my bet is the bar-goers would’ve been more inclined to just tell the guy, hey, wow, it’s super nice that you want to do this incredibly insanely dangerous task on our behalf, but how about you...maybe not? Do that? How about therapy instead, lets try magic therapy

-Zelma and Loki emoji back and forth. Excellent.

-Zelma should be Verity and Is Not. Less excellent. 

-Loki uses a lightning bolt emoji rather than Thor’s name. Excellent again.

-oh shit shit oh shit Shit here we go Fu c k

-OKAY

-Jane Thor arrives

-Jane Thor confronts

-Loki surrenders

-Jane Thor is ???

-Loki is--he’s--he’s this:

You think I’m kidding. You think this is hyperbole. It isn’t. This is actually 110% less fucking heartbreaking than the Look he gives Jane Thor when she asks what he’s up to. Not demands, by the way. Asks. Civilly.

-Loki tells her he sewed the red cape back together with thread he made himself. Jane Thor compliments his knitting ability, but asks again what his game is.

-”There is no game, Thor. I just want to help.”

-Fast forward thru some heartfelt motive talk from Loki, Jane Thor hearing him out, and then cutting him off with...

-Jane Thor: ”Loki...” (cue an actual goddamn SMILE) “...dost thou ever tire of thine own bullshit?”

-Loki. Smiles. Back.

-And then takes them both to the Appalachian Mountains. And then shows Jane Thor a camp of frost giants about to spring an attack on Midgard. And then Jane Thor thanks him for the assist but warns that she’ll be keeping an eye on him. AND THEN.

-Loki: “I know you will be. Good luck...Doctor Foster.”

-Also Dr. Strange is a vet now, so there’s that woo (if the cover art for the next comic is any indication I think they’re setting the stage for Loki having done some Enigmatic Trickery to make this sudden job change happen, but it could also be a red herring dealie, we’ll see)

-Also also Wanda is rocking this art style and That Coat*

-*Loki, I’m impressed by your needlework, honest, but that coat is the better red look, let’s be real

#after the Squirrel Girl cameo #Ragnarok #and ^^^this^^^ premium grade A+++ 2444k gold #I have to conclude that this is a good goddamn month to be a fan of the green fucker #The Mighty Thor #Doctor Strange #Loki: Sorcerer Supreme #jane foster #thor #zelma stanton #volstagg #malekith #mangog #comics #spoilers #marvel

[clumsyclifford]

alright, i'm on my way to work and headphones are on, so how about 7, 12, 27 (for you seem so damn familiar) & 45 from the (amazing) list of fic questions you compiled?🧡

hope you're having a decent day at work!!!!!

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of? oh ho ho oh boy. hm. actually! you know what, yes there is. this is a cop out answer but hazy and spun out (just more than friends) aka acappella au has some solid worldbuilding, and the reason for that is that it's taken directly from my real life, lmao. but i think it's the mark of good worldbuilding that you can write a story about two characters but know that all the other side/background characters are busy doing things and having their own plotlines when you're not looking, and i feel like the side/background characters of acappella au are doing that. i feel like at any moment i could say "hey i want to write about what x person is up to in acappella au rn" and it would be realistic to do that, which is how i've been able to write more in that 'verse and even write about different characters. maybe i dont fully know the meaning of worldbuilding. whatever.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you? prrrrrrrobably? okay "grown on me" is a bit of a strange way to say this but i think ive become a lot more interested in breakup fics? maybe more writing than reading, but til what feels like pretty recently i was very focused on the happy romance part of relationships, or if i wrote any angst or conflict, the conflict was internal and the angst was internal and never interpersonal. but lately (i.e. last few months) ive become much more interested in the complexity of romantic relationships and the difficulty that accompanies them and how people can seem perfect for each other but still break up and how it is possible to have a breakup that isn't anyone's "fault" and what that would entail. like all of that is just very...interesting to me. formerly was not a fan of interpersonal conflict/breakup fics of any kind but i have changed my tune.

27. How long did it take to write you seem so damn familiar? Describe the process. anna i don't know if you're asking me about yssdf because you're indulging me out of kindness or because you have read it and are curious but either way, i love you. anyway, it took me ten days to write! technically. the first like 500 words were written months prior, and then i left them in a doc and didnt touch it for months and forgot it existed (lol). and then i found it, reread it, thought "damn...this is good. i want the rest of this story." and then sam and meghna bullied me into writing the rest of the story. as for the process it was cool and fun but also honestly a lot of the time it was really frustrating because the fic consumed me i was so caught up with finishing it that i effectively stopped doing homework and coursework and anything else i needed to do i was academically treading water just so i could finish writing this goddamn fic. i was so worried that if i stopped writing it, i would lose the Headspace, and i would never be able to get it back and then the fic would never be finished. and my solution to that was to just not stop writing it til it was done. thank god it only took me ten days honestly. it was exhausting. but!! i also had iba (my darling@glitterblazercalum <3) on the doc reading at interval and checking me for like, scientific/medical accuracy, which was a nice safety blanket at least. have i explained enough? maybe yes? to conclude, here's what i sent to the club the moment i realized i was done writing:

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic? a lot of things!!!! i think the biggest one that i can think of is knowing when and where to include a kiss. when i was first entering the world of writing fic (destiel fic ill admit it im not ashamed) i was like? 15 maybe? how old was i seven years ago. THIRTEEN? oh my god i was thirteen. anyway i had obviously never been kissed. so i had this strange and wrong perception of at what point over the course of a relationship people will kiss. i wrote a fic where (cringe check lol) dean is at a restaurant and he's ordering pie but they get the order wrong and he gets pissed and starts yelling at the waiter who is castiel and then he realizes cas is actually very pretty and then they...kiss? it's like. maybe 1k total. they start as strangers. like obviously there are MANY flaws with that fic and that's just from the premise i've explained (though thankfully i never posted any of the shitty destiel fic i wrote when i was a young warthog) but clearly i had zero understanding of when people kiss, and also i was using that action to indicate "hey, these people like each other," which is just. there are so many more accurate, more realistic, and overall better ways to show that two people Like each other than for them to just kiss. now i know.

questions for fic writers

#i hunted down that destiel fic just out of curiosity #and if anyone was wondering: yes it IS exactly as bad as it sounds #god it's so bad i cannot BELIEVEEE #the full story there is actually that there was this supernatural blog that i followed at the time. destieldrabblesdaily? #she wrote a lot of fic and i loved it and so i reached out and asked if she would read mine and give me some feedback #and i sent her that one and im gonna be honest i dont remember if she said anything else #but she absolutely commented on the fact that they had literally JUST met and then kissed out of nowhere #and that stuck with me forever #that was YEARS ago and i still remember it im so glad she said it lol #ask #fic talk #anna #ashtcnirwin #i keep finishing answering these but then not posting them for so many minutes #bc i get lost in rabbit holes of nostalgia #yeeeeeesh i was annoying six years ago #fun fact for anyone reading this far into the tags: i think the story i just told was a lie #i think i mixed up two different pieces of advice people gave me for fic #this is what happens when i scroll through seven years of asks to my main blog. sighs. #forget i said anything #im changing reality bitches

[rrickgrrimes8]

Normality is Death

Chapter Two ~ My Current Existence

masterlist

My eyes darted across the room as I woke, rather abruptly, in a cold searing sweat. The whole room was matted in darkness and the lantern I had lit the night before had not soon gone out. I sighed hopelessly and pushed myself out of bed sliding my combat boots on as I did. I looked outside to see the break of dawn just highlighting the horizon - it's early then I concluded. I stretched and yawned as I left my room locking the door right after - just to be safe. 

A lot has happened since Mom, Shane and Carl left me in the forest that day, too much has happened really. It's been around 3 months since I last saw my family and although I'd like to stay hopeful, I can't shake the feeling that they're dead or hurt in some way. But regardless I need to forget them. They left me. End off - period. My family abandoned me and I have to live knowing that and they have to live knowing that they played a hand in what they think was my death. I know it sounds cold, brutal even but I tried, I really did. I looked for them everywhere. I did everything a 14-year-old girl could possibly do in a world like this and I almost died countless times trying. So I gave up. I gave up not only to protect myself but because I realised that they probably wouldn't be looking for me. Hell, they think I'm dead right? 

Since everything happened in Atlanta the government had been completely radio silent. Lots of people think it's because there's no one left to send a signal. I, however, believe that that's extremely morbid and I guess I'm still holding out hope that someone will swoop in and save us all. It sounds very fairy tale I get that. It's just I'm a 14-year-old girl and I'm so sick of this world already. To the point where I couldn't even think about living any longer in a world like this. 

Sometime during the second month of what people like to call the turning, I met some people. They took me in gave me food, a shelter, some water. Basically, they gave me essential shit I was definitely lacking. Something they also did was train me. I'm not the best, but I do have pretty basic training in hand to hand combat, the basic workings of a gun (thanks to my father mostly) and I'm pretty good with melee weapons. They protected me is what I'm saying. They are my new family - a better family I could ever ask for. 

Our camp consists of 2 houses, housing 4 or 5 people in each. Mitchell, our leader, oversees any newcomers and basically keeps law and order around here. I met them after getting trapped in Atlanta and getting cornered by a dozen or so biters. Mitchell and a few others came in and massacred all of the living dead and took me in.

"Yoohoo! Jacey get your ass up it's your turn to hunt!" my friend, Addie, shouted rudely to me as I walked down the stairs. 

"Jeez Addie, I'm coming don't get ya panties in a twist," I teased nudging her shoulder once I got close enough. She had her usual skinny jeans and a grey tank top on but her hair was styled in a pair of small buns rather than her usually high pony. 

At my reply, her eyebrows furrowed and her usually bright and beautiful eyes closed before sighing. "Do not jeez me, woman, you've got shit to do you're slacking!" she exclaimed practically pushing me out the door and into the burning sun. I promptly lifted my hands to cover my eyes from the brightness. 

"Oh my lord, I know it's your thing to be this emo vampire goth girl who only stays in her room away from people, civilization and oh how could I forget the sun. but this is ridiculous it ain't even bright out." Addie joked forcing my arm down making me embrace the scorching heat. 

"You call this civilization? If so you've got a warped definition" I said picking up a knife and gun from the armoury. 

"Just go before I get even more sick of you, Jace," Addie laughed as I rolled my eyes, gave her the finger and strutted away sassily. "And you be careful kid Mitchell went out yesterday and there were more biters then usual. He thinks a herd might pass through so don't use your gun and you know don't die?" She said almost seriously which was incredibly out of style for her but nevertheless, I smiled and walked off into the woods. 

She was right about the number of biters. After only being out an hour I've seen 16 in our woods alone and I haven't even ventured out in the city yet, which is notoriously worse but I only really have to go to Atlanta if we're desperate. I had only picked up 2 squirrels so far I guessed that the movement of the herd could be driving some of the bigger animals away, which sucks because once I tell Mitchell he's just gonna want me to go into Atlanta to gather supplies. I mentally groaned and sat down against some tree, wishing things were different. 

"Looky what we have here gentlemen." A husky voice called out from the shadows. I instantly stood up and gathered my findings and unsheathed my machete. 

"What the hell do you want?" I stood my ground as I saw a group of maybe 5 guys come closer. 

"Ooh she's sassy," the guy who looked to be the leader teased, "always liked a girl with a little spunk in her as long as she learns to shut up when daddy needs some pleasing." I could've thrown up right then and there if not for the guard I needed to keep up. 

"You're fucking disgusting," I stated unforgivingly, earning some laughs from the group. 

"You really are quite confident aren't ya?" I stayed quiet as he stepped forward, "I can always give you a lesson or two about respect and I mean clothing's optional." 

"How about you shut the fuck up before you really piss me off," I said calmly still showing my anger. 

The man in front of me however got furious over my words and brought his hand down to my cheek. I fell to the ground at the impact, "I told you to learn some fucking respect little girl." 

"And I said to shut the fuck up you creepy bastard," I got my machete out and cut into the guy's leg not giving any warning before punching him in the face, sending him towards the ground, "But you know speaking about respect. How about you learn some fucking respect for me or you know all of my gender?" I more ordered then questioned while striking the guy in the face again. "And next time, asshole, watch your tone when you speak to a woman," I smiled sweetly at him before marching off into the opposite direction. 

"Oh and if I see anyone of you anywhere around here, I'll chop each and every single one of your dicks off."

I arrived back home later that night after hunting another squirrel and a rabbit on top of my earlier findings. 

"So whatcha get for us tonight babydoll?" Mitchell said after seeing me walk up. Mitchell was a 25-year-old now-former English teacher who somehow became our leader. He wasn't extraordinarily brave nor was he an elite strategist but he was a good mentor, who had people that trust him - those people including me. 

"Just some squirrel and a rabbit nothin' special." Mitchell nodded as I started to walk away, "Any trouble?" 

I span around to him before saying, "always." Mitchell gave me an unimpressed look before taking my hunt and walking away. 

"Why am I not surprised?" he laughs while passing most of our group towards the fire. "Anything serious?" I shook my head before sitting on the rough log placed next to the heat. 

"Jus' some jackasses who thought they could take me. Guess I taught them a lesson in respect." Once again Mitchell laughed and sat next to me. 

"I know I don't need to tell you this every time you go out but you've got to be careful, okay? Your safety is my top priority and I know you hate to hear it but you're only a kid. And kids can get hurt pretty easily especially in this sort of life and I'd hate to see that happen to you." Mitchell wrapped his arm around me in a brotherly sort of way as I nodded. I understand he just wanted to help regardless of how much I hate to be called a kid. 

"I'm smart Mitchy. I'm not just some dumb kid. Plus haven't you heard I'm kind of undefeatable. Nothin can kill me," I boasted standing up and heading away from the majority of our group and back to my room. Before I left I saw Mitchell smiling then going off to talk to someone else.

I entered my room lighting a candle straight away and then dropping my bag. As soon as I entered all I could smell was the stenched of sweat and gore. I honestly don't think I've ever gone this long without a shower and I miss it so goddamn much. I miss so many things. I miss deodorant, a warm bed, fast food, soda and not to mention my mom's famous spaghetti bolognese. Just because I wasn't a fan of the woman does not mean I cannot love the food because damn she could cook. The only thing she couldn’t master, however, was pancakes but that didn’t stop her from trying. I smiled slightly reminiscing of the family meals we would have whenever we got the chance. We would all sit around the table talking, eating and just enjoying being around each other. But now they're gone so that's not going to happen anytime soon for me.

"What are you doing, Grimes?" Addie asked pulling me out of my trance.

"Nothin'," I spoke shortly before lying down onto my bed. 

"Don't seem like nothing. Talk to me, love." She walked over and sat next to me taking her hand into mine. 

"M' okay," I reassured her before closing my eyes. I felt Addie shift closer to me still holding my hand causing me to smile. 

Addie was the only other teenager in this group so we bonded pretty quickly despite her being 2 years older, "You don't have to be okay, Jacey." I couldn't help but shudder at her words - the same words I heard from Shane the day it happened. 

"Don't say that, please." I hadn't even realised the quiver in my voice before Addie sat up, bringing me with her. 

"Hey, it's okay, I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you," The brunette girl said to me. 

"It's not you i-it's jus'-" I couldn't finish my sentence before I started to sob. Memories of that night haunted me. I lost so much and so did everyone else but I couldn't understand how they were so okay with it. I lost my home, my dad, my family and my childhood all in one night. And I'm so sick of trying to be okay with that. "I just miss them so much." I finished while getting devoured by Addie's arms. I could hear her softly singing in my ear in order to calm me down and it soon did. I relaxed into her arms after a few minutes but neither of us made any indication that we were going to depart. 

"Who did you lose?" She asked gently. 

"Everyone," I could feel myself beginning to cry again but I pushed it away - I couldn't be weak any longer. 

"I'm sorry, Jacey. I hate seeing you like this. I wish I could take your pain away." 

I hummed shakily before looking up into her brown eyes, "Then do it." With that, she leaned in. Slowly I started to prepare myself to meet her lips but it never came. 

She pulled away from me and stood up, "We can't do this."

I sat up as well but remained seated on the bed, "Why?" She gave me no answer and just looked out of the window. "Addie, please, just tell me why not? For christ sakes, the world has ended. We've got nothing else to lose." 

"It's wrong," She said simply yet with so much emotion and left the room.

I felt the tears begin to return and I just let them fall.

"It's wrong."

That's all it took to break me -  2 words. 

"She's right."

#rick grimes #rick grimes twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead season 1 #normality is death series #twd fanfiction #effy skins #andrew lincoln #jon bernthal #richard harmon #sarah wayne callies #chandler riggs #amandla stenberg #norman reedus #steven yeun #laurie holden #michael rooker #irone singleton #daryl dixon #twd daryl #carl grimes #twd carl #glenn rhee #twd glenn #lori grimes #shane walsh #twd carol #amc the walking dead #kaya scodelario

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Gotham Comic Con”

The Joker and his girlfriend decided to attend “Gotham Comic Con” this year dressed as The Batman and Cat Woman. It took Y/N some time to convince her boyfriend but here they are about to have fun and nothing could spoil the event. Right?...

“Oh my God, this is awesome!” you giggle entering the venue designated for the yearly special event “Gotham Comic-Con” dressed as Cat Woman.

The Joker is right behind you sporting The Batman outfit and he flexes his knees a few times, growling.

“What’s wrong?” you ask although you have a clue because J’s been complaining about since he got off the van parked on Lot B5.

“I hate these stretchy pants! I don’t know how that asshole does it!”

“You’re the one that insisted to come as Batsy,” you reveal point out the truth. “You could have been anyone else.”

“Like who?”

“Cinderella,” you elbow him and your boyfriend is not a huge fan of the concept.

“Why??!!”

“The drama, obviously,” you keep walking alongside him and he’s definitely ready to blow at your insinuation when you gasp. ”Baby, I think that’s Bane!” you gesture towards a massive individual flaunting a Sub-Zero costume.

“How can you tell?” The Joker squints his eyes and the bubbly Y/N has to say it:

“I would recognize his physique anywhere! Plus, he still has the scar between his eyes,” you pucker your lips and The King mumbles a bunch of PG 13 rated things regarding his business partner.

Why?

Last week they got into a brawling and almost killed each other.

The reason?

Y/N.

The Joker believes that Bane always flirts with you (which he does since he likes to refer to you as “a breath of fresh air”); stuff escalated until you had to break it up: J ended up with a busted lip, Bane with a cut between his eyes due to The Clown trying to stab him in the head and you ended up with an inflated ego.

“Hello Mister B.,” you tap the pile of muscles and he turns around to see who’s bothering him.

“Y/N!” he excitedly exclaims, immediately unhappy at the sight of his business partner. “Joker…” the low tone greets.

“Bane…” J sneers.

“What are you two doing here?” Bane inquires.

“Having fun; I finally convinced him we should do this and mingle for once. No better way to spend the day,” the bubbly comment pleases your conversation partner. “So we dressed up and here we are.”

“I must say you’re like a breath of fresh air,” Bane admires your skin tight costume and stilettos which prompts The Joker’s disapproval:

“If you want fresh air, go outside!”

“Make me!”

Oh no! Not again!

“Are you here alone?” you change the subject and distract them from getting into a fight. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy it, but… too many witnesses at the packed Comic Con, it could end up in a total disaster.

“With my niece and nephew. I lost them for a second and I’m searching the premises; they can’t be far,” Bane reports. “Which reminds me: I should get going and find them otherwise my sister will go ballistic. I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he acknowledges you and ignores your man.

“Bye Mister B.,” The Queen snickers at the evident teasing.

“Just her, huh?” The Joker grumbles. “What about me? Did you forget we have a meeting next week???”

“Too bad and super sad: I’m not talking to you!” Bane’s attitude emerges.

“I certainly could care less because I’m not talking to you either!” The King strikes back.

“Then what are we going to do?” Sub-Zero’s better judgement brings up a good argument.

“Y/N will translate!” J proudly states.

Oh no! Not again!

That means they will snarl and make weird noises and you’ll have to guess what it means; an absolutely excruciating task that even a breath of fresh air can’t accomplish without losing it.

Maybe you should let them kill each other. 

“Fine!” Bane decides and distances himself from the couple while the Joker shouts since he has to have the last word:

“Fine!”

“Mister Batman?” the 5 years old dressed as a hobbit shily tugs on J’s cape.

“Hm?” the fake vigilante looks down. The little boy suddenly sneezes and wipes his nose with the fabric as the mad man is less than lenient at someone ruining the outfit replica he paid a fortune to have.

“Goddamn…” and he can’t finish his sentence because a large group of screaming children surround him in a heartbeat.

“Batman! Batman!” they jump up and down hyped up to see their hero.

“Go away!” J attempts to reason with the sea of kids he has no patience for. Of course nobody can hear him over the deafening sounds that attract more offsprings and parents.

“That’s so cute!” one of the moms gushes and takes a picture. “It’s delightful seeing a guy dressed as The Batman performing such a public service for our town!”

“He loves people, especially babies, “ you lie without blinking and immortalize the moment yourself.

“Awww,” a few people sigh touched by your praises.

“He must be a nice dude,” a kid’s dad concludes and you sweetly smile from under your mask:

“You have no idea.”

Somebody from the crowd places an infant girl in The Joker’s arms and the mob goes ballistic!! Rosie cheeks keeps sucking from her binky, glaring at the interesting person.

Clapping, cheering and whistling intensify whilst J feels compelled by his increasing popularity to lift the 6 months old above his head for everyone to see how cool he is.

This is not bad, The King enjoys an endless string of applause and the sudden explosion occurring in the diaper followed by quite a foul smell puts an end to his exuberance.

“Jesus!” he crinkles his nose, appalled. “Whose kid is this?” he yells and the thrilled parent waves at him, taking back the stinky, adorable bundle of joy. “Uncle Batsy needs to run!!” J makes up a random plan although nobody can hear him: the noise is overwhelming after he hyped them all up.  “Let’s bail before they trap me again! Pretty soon I won’t be able to walk, Princess. Everything is crammed in there, a total mess! I hate stretchy pants!!” he addresses his woman and quickens the pace until an atrocious abomination stops him in his tracks.

A specimen mocking The Joker wearing a purple suit is getting quite the attention: over exaggerated red lips smudged over the lip line, tattoo on the forehead that spells “Cabbaged”, a bunch of cheap golden chains from the Dollar Store around his neck and a sloppy green wig complete the assemble in a cringy manner.

You are equally speechless and The Joker manages to utter:

“What… THE HELL… is that????!!!!”

“Ummm… a Clown?” your sassy remark doesn’t score high marks as expected; you feel his eyes burning holes through you.

“You’re hilarious! Would you like to share your standup comedy talents on the stage??!” his index finger points at the platform meant to host a guest appearance from Bruce Wayne in the next hour.

Courtesy of “Wayne Enterprise” sponsoring the event: free food and refreshments for everyone under 18 years old.

You don’t answer and pout, upset J’s pissed attitude is already ruining your mood.

“I’m going to kill that buffoon posing as me!” he inhales full of spite and reaches for the knife hidden in his left boot.

“You can’t…” you hesitantly halt his movement. “Dozens of people, that’s just asking for trouble!”

“I’m not going to let a prick disrespect me!”

“You won’t, we’ll figure something afterwards. We can wait for him outside in the parking lot and take care of it without drawing attention! Please?” you beg hoping he’ll listen to you. “Pleeeaaaase!!!!“ you insist, perfectly aware he’s about to commit murder regardless. “I have a bunch of VIP passes to take pictures with celebrities. You promised J!” you stomp your high heels, exasperated. “You promised we’ll have a fun date!!”

“Why do I have to take pics with celebrities?! I don’t like anybody!”

The look on Y/N’s face: sheer disappointment; most of her features are covered with the mask yet he can tell.

“But I like you so the most I’ll do is take a selfie with you!” The Joker makes amendments on his own terms.

The Queen sniffles, trying to bottle up her emotions and she can’t help it: she bursts up in tears at her boyfriend’s candor.

Oh no! Not again!

Why?

The King of Gotham says nice things maybe twice a year and each time you struggle not to cry but it’s impossible: how can one resist such charm?!

Your complete meltdown makes him roll his eyes while your shaky hand takes a picture of the royal duo.

“Ugghhh…” J’s grimace turns your attention towards him.

“What is it baby?” you wipe your tears with his cape.

He would probably criticize such affront still there’s a pressing issue taking precedent.

“Princess, these tights are making my legs numb. I can’t feel my crown jewelry anymore.”

“Huh?” you forget to weep, startled.

“Cursed stretchy pants! I think I won’t be able to have sex for a month!” The Joker stretches his feet, uncomfortable.

“What??!!!” you raise your voice, panicked. “A month???!!”

Hell no!

Y/N grabs The Joker’s right hand and starts dragging him after her, yelling:

“Out of the way! Out of the way, it’s an emergency!!” whilst everyone is wondering how can someone wearing those 7-inch stilettos can march so fast.

“Where are we going, Pumpkin?!” J is inquiring and you yank at his arm, alarmed.

“To the car!”

“Why?”

Y/N doesn’t have time for explanations: she basically flies across the parking lot to get to section B5, opens the van’s back door and shoves J inside. He lands on his abs as you relentlessly pull on his boots, accomplishing to take them off in record time. Then you heave at his tights, huffing a storm at the stiff garment:

“I’ll be damn if I’ll wait a month for a ride in Funky Town!”

A mother and her 11 years old son pass by and she covers his eyes, horrified at the indecency as she guides him throughout the maze of vehicles.

“There are children here!” the woman protests. “Get a room!”

Luckily, she wasn’t heard by The Clown and his girl because… victory! The stretchy pants are off, J only in his boxers now.

“How are you feeling?” you roll him and he exhales, assessing the damage succeeding Y/N swift actions.

“Not sure, same?... Sit on my lap,” J offers and you don’t need a second invitation.

“Well?” you hold in the anxiety reaching high levels under these dire circumstances.

“Dunno, kiss me and we’ll see.”

You kiss him and he purrs.

“Well?” you interrogate again.

“Kiss me again!” he orders and you put more passion into it since your future happiness depends on it. “Hmm…” J groans. “I believe things are improving.”

“Yeah?” Y/N is about to have another breakdown although J didn’t say sweet rubbish; it’s just that kind of occasion.

“U-hum!”

“Then… what do you say we go home and celebrate your recovery?” you whisper in his ear.

“What about Comic Con?”

“Screw it!” you hop off his knees. “I’ll drive, you focus on your convalescence, ok baby?”

“Ok,” The Joker agrees and begins to stride around the van as Bruce Wayne’s limousine happens to drive by, the billionaire preparing to attend the event he sponsored.

“Stop the car!” Bruce commands at the weird view in the distance: a man wearing a replica of his Batman suit-- helmet, mask, gloves, cape… but no pants or boots, the bottom part of his attire consisting solely of underwear. “Right when you think you saw it all…” he shakes his head in denial, oblivious about who the person is.

Mister Wayne should at least have some empathy for the man enduring those tights for as long as he could; it might not be a record, but who could ever beat the real Batman at wearing stretchy pants anyway?!

Also read: MASTERLIST   

https://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #jokerleto #the joker suicide squad #joker suicide squad #mister j #mister joker #dc #dcu

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Tummy Worship

In the Fellow Junkies chat we’re always losing our minds over the fact that Andrew totally has little bit of tummy chub and Neil is head over heels in love. If you don’t love soft Andreil then don’t read this lols ((: Also I might do a linked fic about Neil and being Demi as it’s only briefly discussed here?

A/N: I tried to keep them in character but I don’t think it worked and they’re also written in the way I personally want them to heal.

——————

It had been two years since whatever it was that they were had started. Andrew would never admit it, not even to Neil, but he was probably the happiest he’d ever been in his life. He didn’t think he’d felt this happy with Cass either, just Neil. The blue eyed, too pretty for his own good, Exy junkie.

They were currently lying in their bed in Columbia, Neil in nothing but his underwear because the freak somehow always overheated at night, and Andrew was in a pair of soft sweats but his chest was left bare because most days he was comfortable with that now. Neil was lying on his side and had his head on his shoulder, an arm around his waist, while Andrew was sort of sat propped up against the head board. It had taken them a long time to get to the point where Andrew was okay with cuddling but after a few times, he realised he quite liked the feeling of closeness to his junkie, like wrapping himself around him at night to prove that he really wasn't a hallucination. That Neil had stayed. Neither of them had spoken in what felt like hours but when the silence was broken it was by Neil’s soft and hesitant voice.

“Drew? Yes or no?”

They didn’t need to use that as much as they did in the beginning but if Neil was using it now, Andrew assumed it was for something new.

“To what, Abram? I don’t mind when you ask, you know that.” The tip of Neil’s nose always went red first when he started to blush, something that was so incredibly adorable it made a warm feeling bubble inside of his chest. Bee would call it healing, but Andrew just thought it was a lack of self-preservation skills. Neil rarely got nervous and even rarer, he never got nervous to ask Andrew for something, he always just asked (Andrew hated him for that). So instead of just kissing him to stop the words like he wanted, he remained quiet and waited for his junkie to finish talking.

“I want to lay with my head on your stomach, yes or no?”

Now it was Andrew’s turn to blush. He tried his hardest to stop it, but he could feel his face heat up and he knew for a fact that the tips of his ears were turning pink. Goddamn it Josten. His percentage was going up and he was buying Andrew at least two pints of ice cream. To give himself a moment to think he simply asked “Why?” Because there’s simply no way he could want that right?

“Because I’ve always liked it, Drew. I just really want to know if it’s as soft as it looks.”

“You’re joking right? I’ve got a layer of chub whereas you’re all muscle and abs, how could you possibly like what I have?” Andrew was glaring at his belly by the time he had finished speaking. Yes, he may play a lot of Exy –unwillingly yes- but because of the amount of junk food he ate, it left him with a little layer of chub over the muscles underneath. Sometimes he couldn’t help comparing what he looked like to Neil and trying to figure out how Neil actually liked what he saw when Andrew would allow him to look. He looked back up after a few minutes, realising that his idiot had yet to speak which made him slightly self-conscious. However, when he did, said idiot was biting his lip the way that always made Andrew want to bite it himself and he was just staring at his belly like it was the greatest thing he had ever seen. He finally managed to tear his eyes away when he spoke again, a quiet whisper between them.

“How can you say that? You know that my attraction and feelings towards you isn’t about your looks, I mean yeah, you’re beautiful and you’ve always been beautiful to me but we’ve talked about this. It’s always just been you and the connection we have, emotionally. It’s never been like this for me before, people were just people, but then I met you and after a while everything that felt missing in me just felt whole, you know?”

Andrew couldn’t breathe, it was like he had forgotten how to. His idiot had called him beautiful; no one had ever talked about him that way, but of course Neil would be the first. Yes they had had this talk only a few months ago, Neil had found him up on the roof of the Tower and had spent the evening talking about things Nicky had shown him online and that they had finally figured out why he only felt that way about Andrew of all people. Demisexual, they had finally concluded felt right to Neil. Made him realise why he didn’t work the way everyone else did when it came to being attracted to someone. He had to have an emotional bond before he felt anything sexual towards a person. And somehow, for some unknown reason, the idiot picked him. Wanted him. God, he hated that the gorgeous junkie made him feel this way, but knowing what he did made Andrew brave enough to say “Yes.” And when Neil looked at him as if to ask if he was sure he said it again with more strengths behind it, “Yes, Abram. It’s a yes.”

Neil moved slowly over him, trying to find a position that would be comfortable for himself while also being cautious of the few boundaries Andrew was still working on being able to let go of. Once he was where he wanted to be, he laid his right hand on one thigh and held onto one of Andrew’s after placing his free one into his own mop of red curls for Andrew to tangle his fingers in. After receiving permission and waiting for the body under his to relax again, he started placing soft, barely there kisses across Andrew’s lower belly. His breaths were gradually becoming heavy pants, loud in the quiet room when he finally let those small pecks become open mouthed, causing shivers down his spine. He watched Neil throughout, noticing the heated glances he’d occasionally send his way and the not so secret looks of fascination as they roamed over the expanse of bare skin before him. Eventually, the onslaught of overwhelming feelings became too much for Andrew so his hand that was tangled with the other’s tightened a fraction in warning.

This time when Neil looked at up at him, chin resting on the squishiest part just blow his belly button, he spoke the words that Andrew realised he didn’t think he’d ever deserve but had always wanted to hear. The words that were his undoing, that made him want to hold onto the idiot between his legs and never let go.

“I love you for who you are, Andrew Joseph Minyard. I’ll only ever love you. Always.”

He had never believed in having an ‘always’ but staring into those bright blue eyes, Andrew thought he just might get to have it.

——————

If you hate it then I’m sorry but it’s done now:) I know it was short too I’m sorry:( I have more aftg stuff in the world so if you’re a fan and want to be tagged in the future just let me know!💓

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @junkiejosten10 @jostenlovesminyard @oreosndscones @koholania @dollymangwani @certified-bi-fangirl-disaster @hannahoftheinternet @imstupidremember @stop-breathing-its-annoying @fancyclodpaintercookie

#all for the game #all for the gay #neil josten #andrew minyard #andrew joseph minyard #neil abram josten #neil and andrew #neil x andrew #they say i love you in my world #soft boys #tummy love #andrew has a lil bit of chub #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #aftg

[fletchphoenix]

Study Date With Destiny

Chapter two of the High School AU <3 i love these boys. Thank you guys for the support on this and my other projects, I love y’all loads for that!! :)) Onwards with the chapter!!

TW - Strong Language (yet again, i cannot remember but knowing me there probably is some somewhere)

--------------------------

  As Varian trudged along, he felt himself slowly starting to slip closer towards just strangling the boy who was rambling beside him, hands in his pockets and laughing obnoxiously loud at his own jokes. Hugo Atkinson may possibly be the most annoying, egotistical guy he’s ever met in his life and he was sure he hated him with his whole being. He didn’t get how a human being could annoy him so much that he’d want to just disappear on the spot, but here he was.

  His hatred intensified as the other wrapped his arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders in a vice-like grip, pulling him closer. “Hey hairstripe, are we gonna be there yet? And are you okay? You’ve been staring at the floor for the past twenty minutes. Are you really that in love with me that you can’t focus around me?” he added with a wide grin.

  Varian’s cheeks immediately flushed and he shoved Hugo away as hard as he could, the other boy merely stumbling and cackling with laughter. “As if I’d have a crush on you! You’re-ugh! You’re insufferable!” he complained as he sped up his pace, Hugo struggling slightly to keep up. Okay, now Varian definitely wanted to kill him. It wasn’t fair how the taller boy thought he could just- just torment him on his first official day back at school and get away with it! Mr Crick had better be right about Hugo being smart, or Varian was gonna lose it with the other. His patience was already wearing thin - so he just prayed for Hugo’s sake that it didn’t run out almost immediately.

  He finally halted his relentless pace, turning and walking through the pearly white, wooden  gates to Rapunzel and Eugene’s house as Hugo stood in shock and stared up at the building in awe. It was only a quaint house with a tiny garden out front, the couple having moved there after their wedding and Varian joining them after...everything that happened last year, but Hugo stared at it as though it was the largest, most beautiful mansion in the world. “Nice place, hairstripe…” he whistled as he trailed after Varian, the raven haired boy rolling his eyes in response and praying that their little ‘study session’ would fly by just as fast as the rest of the day had. He wasn’t sure if he could put up with another few hours of Hugo teasing him and lounging over him in the middle of class. It was probably to embarrass him, and it was sure as hell working. 

  He fumbled with his keys for a second before unlocking the door and walking into the cooling air of the house. Maybe it was the heat making him all hot and bothered about Hugo - after all, his mother had always told him how he was more irritable in the summer months and had a tendency as a child to just curl up into a ball on the floor of their kitchen and cry because he found it unbearable. It made sense as much as he hated to admit it, sometimes he’d get the urge to do it in Rapunzel’s kitchen before remembering he was sixteen now and, contrary to popular belief, couldn’t just lie on the kitchen floor and cry his eyes out over all his problems. Instead, he’d have to do it in his bedroom. Now, Hugo’s presence in his life gave him something justifiable to cry over. Great!

  “Hey sis, me and Hugo are going upstairs to work on a project-” he yelled, grabbing Hugo’s wrist to pull him up the oak stairs and to his room before Rapunzel could ambush him and pull him into a lengthy conversation of ‘how did you meet?’ and ‘he’s nice Varian, could make a lovely friend’, because truth be told, he didn’t want to be friends with the arrogant son of a- Light pattering of what sounded like bare feet sounded from the kitchen and he let out a loud groan as Rapunzel bounded into the hallway and smiled up at him and Hugo. Oh no.

  “Hello Hugo, I’m Rapunzel! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” she declared, sticking out her hand with a freakishly wide smile on her face, clearly putting Hugo off. Varian almost felt bad for the other until he remembered the relentless teasing and rambling on the way here, a smile building on his face as Hugo’s expression of discomfort. “Not a fan of handshakes? That’s fine! I’ll call you both down when dinner is ready, okay?” she told them both before turning on her heel and skipping towards the kitchen. Varian gave Hugo no time to recover before grabbing his hand and pulling him along upstairs to his bedroom in the attic, ascending the two flights of stairs and pulling the cord to turn the light on. 

  “You sleep in the attic? What kind of Cinderella situation is this, hairstripe?” Hugo questioned, already making himself at home by dropping his bag beside Varian’s bed and lounging on it. “See something you like?” He teased before Varian’s face, for the second time today, flushed red. “I’m teasing, hairstripe. Obviously you do. But, I’ve gotta admit, it’s a nice set up. The two desks are a nice decorative touch.”

  “Shut up.” Varian quipped back, sitting at his desk and resting his forehead against it.  They hadn’t even started and he’d already thought of all the ways he could kill Hugo, all of them seeming like pretty good options at this point in time. “So, we’ve gotta do a project on green chemistry, and the extraction of biodiesel and biofuels. That’ll be..interesting, right?” he muttered aloud, raising his head to look at Hugo, who just frowned in confusion. “You...you get what I’m talking about, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course I get what you’re talking about, I’m a genius. I just got a bit confused at why in the living hell you’ve got a raccoon on your desk and why he looks as though he’s going to kill me.” Hugo stated bluntly, pointing hix index finger to the pile of papers behind Varian. The other turned in his chair and gasped happily, pulling the raccoon into his arms and peppering kisses over the furry little angel’s face. 

  “Ruddiger!” he cried happily, the raccoon nuzzling his cheek against his owner’s and sitting on his shoulders. “Sorry, this is Ruddiger, my pet raccoon! I saved him from a bear trap when I was fourteen and the little guy’s stuck with me ever since! Pretty loyal, right?” he chuckled, his smile contorting into a frown at the unreadable expression on Hugo’s face. Oh no, now he’d just given Hugo more reasons to bully him. Brilliant. He couldn’t believe he’d just so openly admitted to having a goddamn pet raccoon in front of the one guy who made fun of him the most!

  “That’s cute.” Hugo said, almost whispering.

  “I-I’m sorry, what?”

  “It’s cute. The raccoon, I mean. A bit weird you named him after your last name, but hey. That’s pretty sweet how you got him. I have a pet mouse called Olivia at home, and she’s one of my favourite things in the world if I’m being honest.” Hugo shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck with his prosthetic arm subconsciously, his gaze drifting towards the floor as Varian swore a light blush came to those pale, freckled cheeks of his. “Anyway-” Hugo interrupted, standing and pulling the chair from the other desk over to sit beside Varian. “What are we gonna do for this project then, hairstripe?” 

  “Oh, I have a few ideas-” Varian began, proceeding to explain all the thoughts and ideas culminating in his head for various different aspects of the topic they could cover - the need for biofuels, alternative energy sources, how to make a sustainable fuel supply..you name it, he said it, along with different ways to present it, such as papers, a powerpoint or something along those lines. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being stared at, the thought making him feel slightly uneasy. He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting Hugo’s who simply stared at him, his head propped up by his flesh hand with a stupid smile on his face, instantly disappearing as soon as Varian looked over and straightening his back. “Perfect ideas, hairstripe. Absolutely perfect.” he added as he looked away and covered his mouth to feign a cough. 

  Varian raised an eyebrow, a frown forming on his face before hesitantly turning his attention back to the brainstorm of notes he’d written on the page, however he couldn’t bring himself to fully focus again. Why was Hugo staring at him like that? Was there something on his face? Was he just really invested in what Varian had to say? It was weird to say the least - having the guy he hated stare at him. It was probably one of his tricks to make Varian let his guard down even more, Nuru did say he was an infamous playboy in school and dated around a lot. Yep, that was most definitely it, he concluded as the boys began to write and work together.

  Surprisingly, they worked extremely well together - akin to a well-oiled machine or a pair of old lab partners. Hugo was much smarter than he let on, even better than Varian in some areas of the topic and, although he let out a few quips every now and then, he really wasn’t a pain to work with and was..extremely co-operative and receptive to whatever ideas Varian had. He’d give his genuine thoughts with no insults to Varian’s intelligence and seemed to really respect his ideas. It felt like an entirely different guy to the one in chemistry class only a few hours prior, a soft smile drifting onto his face as he sat there and wrote, before he and Hugo locked eyes in silence. 

  “DINNER!” Rapunzel called from downstairs, breaking the trance the two boys had been placed into and causing them both to hurriedly stand and rush downstairs quietly. Varian didn’t understand - it's gotta be Hugo putting an act on. It didn’t make any sense on how he was so different to how he was in chemistry. Nonetheless, the pair entered the kitchen. “Hey boys! How’s the studying going?” Rapunzel questioned from her seat at the table, Eugene sitting beside her with a smile on his face, presumably happy that Varian finally had a friend at school. 

  “It’s been fine, Rapunzel. Going swimmingly. Hairstripe here has plenty of great ideas.” Hugo declared with a grin, reaching over with his flesh arm to ruffle the boy’s hair, who ducked as fast as he could. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough, his raven locks being messed up by the blonde. “How did you even get that streak anyway? Did ya just get bored when you were fourteen and do it to be ‘emo’?” he teased, nudging Varian and sitting down at the table. 

  “It’s natural, okay? Don’t ask how - I don’t know either. Probably my mom’s fault.” he shrugged and leaned over his plate, shovelling food into his mouth and trying to ignore any conversations taking place at the table. Hugo, on the other hand, relished in the attention Rapunzel and Eugene were giving him, showing off his achievements in school and how superior he was at..literally everything. He’d managed to hear that his mother ran a small company in town, that he worked for her and she was a single mom after his dad walked out on them. He also heard that he had over a dozen awards in school for multiple different clubs and activities, Varian listening in fascination. He had no idea Hugo was this..versatile. It was pretty damn amazing in his eyes. 

  After dinner had finished, Varian and Hugo lounged about on his bed in the attic after playing some video games together, waiting for Hugo’s mom to pick him up before Varian finally broke the comfortable silence after a few minutes. “How did you lose your arm?” he blurted out. He wasn’t really thinking when he said it, if he was being honest. He knew it was probably a sensitive topic to Hugo and talking about it would probably bring back some unwanted memories for the other boy. Clearly it did, as evident from Hugo’s features twisting into a look of sadness. “I..I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer, I was just curious and wasn’t thinking and-”

  “No, no. It’s alright. I thought you’d ask sooner if I’m being honest.” He let out a little nervous, breathy chuckle, turning on the bed to look at Varian quietly. “I..kinda lied about my childhood. Donella adopted me. I was six, and me, my mom and dad were driving in the middle of winter. I got excited about something stupid - a deer or something like that. It threw my dad off, he swerved and...the car crashed. My parents..they didn’t make it out alive. I did, but uh..paid the consequences with my arm being severed from the shoulder. So Donella took me in and made me a new arm. And voila, here we are.” his voice died out into a murmur before he shrugged nonchalantly. “Can I hear about the story between you and your parents or is that too personal? I kinda figured Rapunzel and Fitzherbert weren’t your parents so...” 

  Varian paused before letting out a sigh. “You told me your tragic backstory, so it’s only fair I tell you mine, right?” he responded and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Well, my mom died when I was younger, which left me and my dad alone. When I was fifteen, my dad got sick. Really...really sick. He was getting to the point where it just wasn’t fair on him to keep him alive, so..we made the decision to stop with his treatment and let him pass away, so now I live with Rapunzel and Eugene. But..there isn’t a day where I don’t miss him and regret my decision.” he sighed, shocked when Hugo pulled him into a tight embrace in silence.

  He wasn’t used to the feeling of someone else other than Rapunzel or Eugene wrapping their arms around him and pulling him closer, but..it felt nice, comforting even. Just lying there in Hugo’s embrace. It felt right, he thought, as he laid there satisfied in the other boy’s arms, so close he could hear Hugo’s heart thudding in his chest, grounding him to the room they were in. It was different, but a good different that Varian didn’t want to give up just yet, subconsciously cuddling closer to the blonde before-

  “Hugo! Your mother is here!” Rapunzel called from downstairs, Hugo quickly sitting bolt upright and looking down at Varian, a twinge of sadness on his face. Even Varian felt a pang of sadness on his heartstrings as the boy moved off his bed, though he quickly dismissed it.

  “Hey, its uh-its been fun. Next time we can go to mine if you feel comfortable. Anyway-see you later.” he said with a smile, heading towards the door before Varian lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. “Wait. You’ll need this.” he muttered, writing his phone number down onto Hugo’s flesh forearm, Hugo’s skin warm to the touch. “Give me a text, alright?” he said with a smile, his eyes locking onto Hugo’s emerald ones. Were they always that vibrant?

  “Aw, don’t miss me too much, hairstripe.” he teased. Okay. Back to the teasing again, thought Varian, a loud and annoyed groan leaving his lips as Hugo smirked and turned away from him. “Okay, I’ll see you around. Have a good night.” he waved and disappeared around the corner, descending the two flights of stairs and, after twenty minutes, Varian heard the front door to the house shut.

  Immediately, he flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Well, that was an experience. He’d made his first enemy, somehow managed to see that enemy as someone completely different to who he initially thought and then gave said-enemy his phone number. Huh. Maybe Hugo wasn’t as bad as he’d initially thought, he pondered as he laid back on his bed. A small ding broke him from his thoughts, pulling his phone from his pocket and registering the number as Hugo.

Hugo : Hey hairstripe, it's me. Your absolute favourite person in the whole wide world.

Varian : Ha. You wish you were, dweeb.

Hugo : *gasp* INSULTING ME?? Hugo : You wound me, hairstripe. Will you keep relentlessly tearing down my pride?

Varian : mmm,,,let me think about it

Varian : Yep. I will.

Hugo : Aha, love you too.

Hugo : Anyway, I’ve gotta dash for work and all. See you tomorrow, sweetcheeks.

Varian : See ya, twerp.

  “Sooo...he was nice!” Rapunzel called from the doorway, Varian dropping his phone and instantly losing the ghost of a smile on his face. He hadn’t realised she was there, her smug expression and the way she leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded made him cringe. 

  “Y’know knocking exists, right? That's a thing that people do. And yes, he’s nice around you guys, but gives me hell at school.” Varian groaned, knowing full well Hugo was going to treat him the same as he had while they were at school instead of the soft side he’d revealed to Varian that, admittedly, Varian much preferred to the suave persona the other had put on. It felt more genuine - the way he acted tonight. It felt like he was really seeing the real Hugo Atkinson in all his glory. 

  “Yeah I know. He does seem nice though. Okay buddy, me and Eugene will be downstairs if you need us, alright? Love you, Varian!” She assured before turning and heading down towards the first floor as Hugo had done only a few minutes prior, her brunette hair bouncing on her shoulders as she walked with her usual slight skip in her step. 

  Varian laid back once again with a satisfied smile, letting Ruddiger curl up into a small ball on his chest and absentmindedly, he reached down and trailed his hand across the raccoon’s fur, lost in thought. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian x hugo #varian tangled #tangled varian #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varigo high school au

[krokonoko]

Lacho fake marriage AU outline

@sob-dylan after your messages I spent the entire day thinking about that Lalo/Nacho fake dating/marriage AU and while I can’t give this fandom the 30 chapter slow burn fanfic it deserves, I can give you my rundown of one!

Lalo’s an ambitionless spoilt little brat in his mid 40’s who always thought he could just coast through life, party and have a good time and fuck whoever he wants. Which was the case, until he screws up really bad and it’s revealed to everyone in no unclear details that he’s gay as the night is dark. He thought it wouldn’t be a big deal, that tio Hector would just turn a blind eye to it like he usually does. But this time, it’s different, and Lalo is running danger of getting disowned - in a best case scenario.

And that… actually hurts Lalo. Pissed and sulky that his own family, who he’d do everything for, is so ready to just throw him out over something as trivial as this, he actually starts developing some ambition. They wanna disown him? They won’t be able to, if he’s their boss. He’s gonna show them. He’s gonna show them all.

So he actually starts rivalling Hector’s son for position of Don Hector’s successor. (I’d say Hector never ended up in a wheelchair cuz he’d lend himself perfectly for an antagonistic power in the story.) There’s just one problem: Lalo’s got to be married for the job. Now he COULD just get himself a fake girlfriend - or he could piss everyone who spurned him off even more and get married to a guy. Now all he needs to do is find a man whom he trusts completely, who can handle himself in sticky situations, and who is ready to set foot into the lion’s den that is the Salamanca family and the cartel business.

What better candidate than dear Ignacio.

Nacho is of course not exactly enthusiastic about the proposal, and no promises of material wealth will change his mind. So Lalo strikes a deal with him. Complete immunity for Nacho and his dad, protection from within and outside of the Salamanca family, even after their business has concluded. Which it will, after Lalo has reached his goals, and then Nacho is free to go his merry way. Nacho agrees, under one more condition: Any physical affection happening between them is purely for show, and the moment they are in private, he will NOT let Lalo lay a single finger on him. He’s no hooker, and he will most definitely not become Lalo’s little plaything.

They shake hands on it, and before Nacho knows it, he’s in Mexico, at the Salamanca’s place, and the wedding preparations are already underway. Oh my god this would be my fav part because Nacho would be introduced to Lalo’s buddies, cuz you KNOW he’s got a huge circle of syccopha- I mean friends at home that he hangs out with all day. They laugh at all his jokes and they play poker with him and Lalo has missed them SO MUCHHH. Anyway, this would be. SUCH a good opportunity. To come up with some female Salamancas. Does Lalo have sisters? WHAT ABOUT LALO’S MOM. I WOULD FUCKING LOVE to read about Lalo’s mom. I bet she’s amazing, just as much of a spoilt little drama queen as he is, and Lalo is a TOTAL mommy’s boy, no one can convince me otherwise. (Maybe his dad has been out of the picture for a while, cuz I would really like to push this whole Hector-is-Lalo’s-father-figure angle.)

ANYWAY, back to Lalo and his mom. She’s a tough as nails lady, lofty and reserved, but overly protective of her son. They’re super close and affectionate with each other and it’s so weird for Nacho to see cause he thinks it’s the first time that he sees Lalo with someone that he seems to. Genuinely… CARE about?? Except for Hector, that is. But mamá is not a huge fan of Lalo getting married to Nacho, she can’t understand what the FUCK her son is doing there, she begs him to PLEASE stay under the radar with his caprices and tries to talk him out of it.

This in turn only goads on Lalo. He’s getting more and more tired of the way he’s being treated. It’s not that he actually has enough social awareness to deplore his family’s homophobia. For him, this is personal. He’s been a good boy, he’s loved his family and been loyal to them all his life, he’s kept his desires on the down low for all these years, now they’re turning on him because of one measly slip up?? He’s fed up, betrayed, and he’s gonna show them. And totally not win back their respect or anything, this is not what this is about at all, noooo~

There would of course be more Salamancas, most of them taking issue with the marriage, but I do absolutely adore the idea of overly supportive Tuco!! Just THINK about it, everyone greeting the newly married couple awkwardly or even with slight hostility, only Tuco barrels in like “YEEAHHH, where’s my favorite cousin?? You and my man here? You be good! Nacho, you’ll do good by Lalo, right? Riiiight!” And everyone grows more uncomfortable by the minute while Tuco can’t read a room for shit and he’s having SUCH a ball, he’s so PUMPED it’s not even funny.

There’d be all this tension between Nacho and the other Salamancas in the weeks after the wedding, it would be glorious.

And of course there’s the matter of Nacho and Lalo having to pretend they’re married for. Other reasons than a cold and calculated agreement. They don’t spend their entire day together, both taking care of various dealings. Nacho gets incorporated in the Salamanca’s business this side of the border and proves himself just as much of a reliable associate as he has been up North.

But whenever possible, they have to have dinner together, breakfast together, and sleep in the same bed. Fortunately, they’re both professional enough to arrange themselves with the situation quickly. Lalo is sometimes a bit flirty about it, but when Nacho makes clear that he doesn’t appreciate the come-ons, Lalo backs off.

Of course Lalo still reserves his right to fuck whoever he wants, just that he has to go back to being absolutely stealth about it. Only Nacho and his lovers know about it, and it’s not that Nacho disagrees with anything that’s happening, he’s not enough into Lalo to get jealous (yet), but this is starting to look a little bit weird to him, especially when he finds out that this is how it’s been for Lalo all his life.

Nacho doesn’t understand much about social awareness either, but he knows a repressed gay when he sees one. He gets all these insights into Lalo’s life, into how he grew up, and Nacho can’t help feeling at least the slightest bit of sympathy for how Lalo had to deny himself his entire life. Him being bi wasn’t always easy either, but at least he’s not a Salamanca! …Or at least, he didn’t use to be. Maybe Nacho talks about it to some of Lalo’s buddies, some of who maybe have even known Lalo since childhood, and who have seen him struggle with this all his life.

Just… UGH, this would be the perfect opportunity to explore just how much self-denial and internalized phobias have wreaked havoc in Lalo’s head! Because if you try to approach this from Lalo’s PoV, he’s not gonna see it at ALL. A river in Egypt, baby, that’s where Lalo is about this. He’s fine, he’s FINE, he’S   F I N E, he didn’t have dreams about tio Hector shooting him in the face as a kid after that incident in the desert back when he was ten, no, he’s fine, HE’S FINE!!! But his buddies? They’re probably not the princes of social graces either, but they have EYES and maybe one or two of them give enough of a shit about Lalo to actually have noticed what’s going on, and it would be so good to have them reveal that knowledge to Nacho!

So while Nacho starts seeing Lalo in a slightly different light (we’re talking VERY slightly, repressed gay or not, he’s still a murderous sociopath), but still, there’s part of him that grows protective over Lalo. They spend a couple of months together, and Nacho is starting to settle. He only has one half of a bed instead of a whole one, but other than that, the tasks are much the same as they used to be, the goddamn luxury in which he’s suddenly living doesn’t hurt either, and it’s almost scary how easy it is to get used to all of this.

Lalo’s PDAs don’t bother him, and neither do the hostile stares. This is his role, and he’s gonna play it. There would be so much time and space for lots of power play between Nacho and Hector here, or Nacho and the other Salamancas, and it would be a thing of beauty. They live their lives under the ever watchful and suspicious eyes of Hector Salamanca, and Nacho and Lalo are starting to form an excellent team. No one can really do anything against them cuz their work is solid as all hell, and Nacho’s growing more confident by the minute.

There’s just one problem, and that’s the fact that Lalo behaving all respectful towards him and the casual kisses they sometimes share to keep up appearances are kinda starting to linger on Nacho’s mind. Lalo takes actions that show Nacho that he was being absolutely serious about protecting him as part of their deal, and Nacho can’t remember the last time someone protected him.

Nacho becomes a bit less strict about the no-body-contact-in-private policy, lets Lalo give him a massage when he’s all tense and returns the favor, and it’s not lost on him that Lalo does express some signs of attraction towards him, though he explains it away with Lalo just being. You know. Lalo.

There’s just one problem. It’s been forever since Nacho has seen Manuel, and Nacho really feels like he should check up on him. But he knows it’s against their agreement for him to just go back to New Mexico whenever he feels like it. So he offers a mutual breaching of their rules: Lalo lets Nacho go to New Mexico for a couple of days, and in return, Nacho will sleep with Lalo. This is of course an offer that Nacho makes while already climbing into Lalo’s lap, just to hasten the decision making.

But after letting Nacho squirm for a second, Lalo declines. He gently pushes Nacho away and says that tio Hector wouldn’t be happy at all if Nacho just ran off like that. Why don’t they just take a little vacation together? And Nacho is like: “A vacation. In New Mexico.” And Lalo is like “Yeah idk either we’re gonna be bored out of our damn minds!” And Nacho actually laughs. He’s not happy about having to take Lalo with him, but it’s better than nothing.

So they go to New Mexico together, which officially counts as a road trip and I am a very happy boy. There’s gonna be endless mariachi songs and Lalo singing along, fun for everyone! They rent a little vacation home in Abq for a couple days, and Nacho invites Manuel over for dinner. Nacho is super nervous beforehand, but Lalo talks him down, tells him about how his cooking will immediately convince Manuel that he’s got himself the perfect son in law, and Nacho almost appreciates the sentiment - if only it were that easy.

Lalo lets Manuel in, and the most awkward dinner of all time ensues. Lalo aggressively tries to make conversation while Manuel and Nacho eat their food in complete silence, the tension between them so thick you could cut it with a knife. After the main course, Lalo excuses himself to, idk, look after the dessert that he left out on the patio table to cool. 

Finally, Nacho asks Manuel how the shop is, and Manuel is preeetty taciturn, just says yeah, it’s fine, and then Manuel opens his mouth and he’s just. So aghast at. Everything transpiring in front of him. Ignacio, what is going on here. You went to Mexico? Got married? To a man your dad’s never even seen? And half a year later you suddenly show up and wanna have dinner together?

And Nacho knows he is kidding himself if he thinks this is just magically gonna fix anything, but he just wanted to make sure his dad is okay. And concerning the man he married… well. He said who he is, right?

But Manuel’s like, he said his name was… Lalo?

And it finally dawns on Nacho that Manuel’s got no clue who he’s having dinner with. And Nacho just. Puts his face in his hands as if he could just hide, from this conversation, from his dad, from everything, and he murmurs: “Eduardo Salamanca.”

And his dad, he’s so deeply shocked, he just stares, and in that moment it really hits Nacho that through all these months of getting accustomed and settling in, through all the calculating and scheming that’s ruled his mindset day after day, he has forgotten who it is that he shares a bed with every night, even if it’s just symbolical.

“Salamanca”, he hears his dad repeat incredulously, and it’s like he’s seen this all before and he wants to say it, he wants to say that he’s doing all this just for his papá, but he can’t, and no matter what he does he won’t win his father’s love back, especially not with stunts like this, and when Manuel gets up to leave, Nacho can only follow him half-heartedly and watch him drive away into the night from the door, until his taillight vanishes in the dark.

Along comes Lalo, all chipper and acting completely clueless, like, what have I missed? Oh, your dad left so soon? What a shame, now he’s gonna miss dessert! But Nacho’s not listening, he’s leaving, getting his car keys, and Lalo… actually lets him.

Nacho just needs a couple of hours alone, driving through his hometown, and he’s lucky there’s so little traffic cuz he can barely see through the blur that’s suddenly befallen his vision, and he drives, and drives, past his old school, past Tampico Furniture, until it’s late in the night.

When he gets back, Lalo’s fallen asleep on the couch, and Nacho crawls on top of him, and starts kissing him, and he just doesn’t care, he needs this right now, he’s just desperate for something, anything.

Of course it doesn’t mean shit. It was just what Nacho needed, nothing more, nothing less. And when Lalo offers a little trip the next day, Nacho is glad to have something take his mind off of last night. Not that it was bad. Quiiite the opposite. He still has bite marks all over his neck and when he sees Lalo hop under the shower he notices the dark red streaks all the way down his back and uhm YES that is a THING that Nacho FEELS and MAYBE he just bit his lip at the sight but yeah. MAYBE he hit rock bottom yesterday night and then proceeded to have the most mindless, hottest sex of his entire life. Maybe. I just need Lalo and Nacho to be so sexually compatible in all the best and most horrible ways.

They take the trip back and somehow, with every mile away from Abq, Nacho’s dark thoughts dissipate a little bit more, as he returns into a world where he understands the problems, and he can handle them, and he’s in control, and he doesn’t owe anyone any explanations or emotional debts. 

This is where all the dramatic shit could happen, like Nacho taking on harder jobs, going on a shootout with the twins, or Lalo getting back from a deal gone wrong, or them having to pull off some dangerous stunt together, and there’s bullets flying and blood and injuries and fretting over the other one’s life and pulling each other out of harm’s way and don’t you dare die on me we still haven’t reached our goal yet we’ve come so far godDAMNIT DON’T YOU DARE!

And when Nacho wakes up, bandages all over, he expects to be alone, but instead there’s Lalo, who’s fallen asleep by his bedside, and. It makes Nacho feel all sorts of things, but he’s not ready, not yet, to acknowledge this. Also he’s just seen Lalo shoot three guys while grinning like a maniac so that’s a thing. 

Nacho’s in it for the long haul now, and he stays with Lalo through hardships and dangers. He eliminates every threat to Lalo effectively and efficiently and helps him on his rise to power. When someone schemes against Lalo, Nacho sniffs it out and saves him. When Hector or his son have plans to move against Lalo, Nacho’s there to thwart them. 

In time, the violent lifestyle he’s exposed to affects him less and less outwardly, though it doesn’t stop leaving marks on his psyche. Days blend together, and Nacho alternates between a life of domesticity and that of a crime lord with ease now. And when he beats a guy that he was supposed to torture into revealing information into a bloody pulp because his mind has turned into scorching rage against absolutely everything and everyone, when he wrests the canister from Lalo’s hand, douses the entire house in gasoline and flicks the match in with a dark and merciless glint in his eyes, it only takes until they’re back by the car that Lalo shoves him on the backseat and kisses him so hard and deep it feels like he’s drowning, the smell of gasoline and ash still fresh on their skin.

Idk whether Hector dies of natural causes, or whether Gus swoops in as a final boss to take care of him, but after Lalo and Nacho have reached their goal, and they could end it, they find new aims, like taking down Don Eladio, taking down Gus, new excuses, just like Nacho has always found excuses not to run away from the Salamancas. Lalo and Nacho are both uprooted and looking for closure, through the years, they’ve grown closer than they ever anticipated, know each other better than anyone else. 

And without realizing it, Nacho himself is slowly turning more and more into a true Salamanca.

#Lacho #Nacho Varga #Lalo Salamanca #Better Call Saul #BrBa BCS #my fanfiction #not exactly but I'm still gonna tag it #cw: canon typical violence

[anxiouslymalicious]

Until we meet again.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x (fem) Reader

Summary: A continuation of "Until we’re old and grey” in which Ben won’t keep his promises.

Word Count: 2221 

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, hurt and heartache, potentially slightly angsty

A/N: I planned for this to be a lot different, but while I was writing, I just couldn’t go any other way, sorry! 

It had been months since your talk with Ben. You had actively tried to change a few of the things you two talked about, but for the most part, you tried to accept your flaws. Your newfound confidence had also spread online. After posting several pictures together, Ben’s fans became less vicious to you, some of them accepted that they couldn’t change your feelings for each other, others were quieted down by his community.

Over the past months, Ben had been doing a lot of work that was more local to your home in London. At times, you could even join him on set and appear as an extra in the movie. Either way, you were glad that you got to spend more time with your boyfriend. Or that’s what you thought.

It was late at night, something around 2am and you were in a hazy state. Sleep tried to take hold of you, but you tried to resist. The episode of Brooklyn 99 that was running in the background was long abandoned, though and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You had gotten up way too early that morning so you could join Ben on his run before you got ready for work, but you had to stop and go back home after only half the route Ben had in mind. It was too much for you and you were exhausted. Normally, you two wouldn’t run that far, which confused you, but you simply decided that he was overly enthusiastic that morning. When you came home, you took a quick shower before making a quick breakfast for both of you. You were hoping to catch Ben before leaving for work, but you didn’t. You left him a quick note, telling him that you prepared breakfast for him which was on a plate in the fridge, that you loved him and couldn’t wait to see him again that evening.

But you didn’t.

You fell asleep not long after you had started another episode on Netflix, still waiting for the familiar sound of his keys unlocking the door, the tapping of his feet as he sneaked inside, desperately trying not to wake you up or the quiet ‘good night, princess’ that he would whisper when he finally got into bed and wrapped his tired arms around your only half asleep body.

But it never came.

The next morning, you figured out that he had gone to the gym for several hours again before crashing on the couch. You decided against waking him, letting him sleep for a bit longer while you made breakfast. Frankie suddenly started barking happily and you assumed that Ben must have woken up and greeted her with a huge hug.

“I’m going for a run with Frankie. See you later, love.”, Ben said, leaving the flat before you could even get a word out. You only saw Ben again that Saturday when he returned to bring Frankie home and grab his gym back. In the evening, he grabbed an apple for dinner and left. According to him, he would hang out with a few friends. On his Instagram, you watched him downing drink after drink with some of his co-stars. All of them were really buff, huge men with more muscles than you thought were pretty. But to each their own.

Your eyebrows furrowed with worries about your boyfriend. And so, you decided to address it. The only problem was that you didn’t know when he would be home next. You spent your Saturday night cuddling with Frankie, desperately trying to stay up once more, but failing. At some point, you retreated and went to sleep in your bedroom. Your heart broke. Over the past years of your relationship, neither of you had ever pushed the other away like this. Especially Ben. He was never one to talk too much about his feelings, but he did curl up by your side and have you talk to him about your day. Usually, Frankie would try to push her way in between you two and get the affection she wanted.

You missed those moments. Those sincere moments. Like the one you two had when you talked about your insecurities. He was so supporting of you at that time and your relationship seemed like it reached a new high at that point, but now it felt like you two had never hit a low like this one. Probably because you hadn’t.

“It’s alright.”, you whispered to yourself as you curled up under the blankets, once more feeling alone and lonely. “Every relationship has its ups and downs. He’ll come around.”

It wasn’t long until Frankie curled up beside you, on Ben’s side of the bed. She was whimpering. Your heart felt like it had officially sunken into your stomach, the feeling unbearable. Frankie was like a furry little daughter to Ben and yourself, she meant the world to you and you hadn’t thought about how this whole situation might affect her.

“Shh, baby. It’ll be alright. Benny will come back to us. I’ll talk to him in the morning.”, you whispered to the dog, your back to the door as you petted her, trying to calm her down as much as possible.

You never noticed Ben standing around the corner, listening in on you breaking down, talking about your fears and sorrows to his beloved dog. He felt a lump in his throat, silent tears rolled down his cheek before he even noticed them forming in his eyes. Ben’s body was pressed tightly against the wall behind him, his hands curling into a ball. He didn’t know how he felt. He was mad. Mad at himself because he hurt the two most important beings in his life. But he was also mad at you because you were not talking to him. He almost felt betrayed, you asked him to talk to you and now you were the one with a problem and didn’t talk.

Ben also felt sad because he let it come this far. He never intended for his excessive workouts to have this kind of an effect on you. He never wanted for them to have any effect on you. It was just that he felt insecure.

Ben bit his lip and, in his tipsy state, sneaked back out of the door. On his way out, he called Gwil, asking if he could crash at his.

The next morning, you woke up to Frankie impatiently and nervously hopping about the bed, softly trying to wake you up. You groaned at the sunlight flooding your room and looked at the dog. Confusion marked your face as you looked from Frankie to the still empty side of the bed that belonged to Ben. A sigh escaped your lips as you concluded that he hadn’t come home at all last night. Your insecurities made your heart feel heavy as you put on some sweats and a sweatshirt that you deemed fitting to go for a walk with Frankie. It was a sweet, short walk, but you didn’t feel nearly as energised as you usually did afterwards. It was quite the opposite, really. You were almost dreading going back home, your fear of not meeting Ben there was too much. Maybe you were a little scared of actually meeting Ben there, too.

You were afraid that he might have found someone new.

Someone who was prettier than you.

Someone better than you.

You tried to shake off those negative thoughts and walked up to your shared flat. As you opened the door, you didn’t expect for Ben to be home. But he was.

“Ben, baby? How are you?”, you asked carefully. To him, you sounded almost like you were afraid he might disappear or run off like a deer if you moved too fast or asked the wrong questions. It hurt seeing Ben like that. He looked like hell. He had dark shadows under his eyes, his lips were chapped from biting onto them all the time. He had stubble growing on his face and his hair looked flat and it was unkempt. Ben looked almost lifeless.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”, he croaked. You only now noticed that his eyes were red and bloodshot, he had probably been crying for quite a while. You had to swallow a lump in your throat as you looked at his current state.

“Yeah, alright. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, love. Is everything alright?”, you asked as you sat down on the couch beside him, with your knees touching his. Your hand landed on his thigh, trying to provide him a little comfort. Ben moved a bit away, the sudden movement hurting you just as much as it confused you.

“Y/N, I think we need a break.”, he said, his elbows resting on his thighs as his face sank to his hands. He couldn’t even look at you.

“What? Why do you think so? Did I do something- “

“Goddamn it, Y/N. It’s not always about you. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t support me with what I am doing.”, Ben angrily interrupted you, his eyes glued to the ground as a fresh wave of tears filled his eyes.

“What are you talking about, Ben? When have I not supported you?”, you asked, growing irritated yourself. Over the past years, you had dedicated your life to that man. Getting up earlier in the morning to prepare breakfast for him, cooking dinner not only for you, but also for him, walking with Frankie, keeping the flat clean and keeping your shared finances in check were only a few of the things you had been doing over the past months. Your blood was boiling and you knew that it was only a matter of minutes, if not seconds until a wave of sadness was going to hit you.

“I heard you last night!”, he got up from his seat on the couch and started pacing around the room. “I heard what you said to Frankie. If you’re doing that bad, then what are you still doing here? Why won’t you just leave?” Ben’s back was to you, his hands balled to fists by his side, his body tense.

“I will not leave because I love you, Ben. And this is not you talking. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am here for you.”, you tried your best to stay calm, your voice quivering and much softer than it had been just seconds earlier. You were not about to give up on this relationship.

“Nothing is going on. You have just become unbearable. I’ve got a lot going on and don’t need a clingy, insecure little girl to hold me back. And now please leave, Y/N,” Ben’s words stung. Not only you, but him. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t want to do that. But he let his insecurities win. He wanted to take his own words back, he really did, but he couldn’t.

Hot tears fell down your cheeks and you desperately wanted to scream. You wanted to scream and feel Ben’s arms around you, telling you that he didn’t mean it.

He didn’t.

You walked to face him and tried to look into his eyes, but he never raised his gaze from the ground. He couldn’t.

You wrapped your arms around your own body tightly, trying to find something to hold on. Quickly, you turned around and walked towards the door, not even bothering to pack some clothes. All you needed was still in the pouch of your sweatshirt. Phone, wallet, keys.

“Until we meet again.”, you whispered. Your voice was hoarse and a painful sob pushed its way through your lips against your will. Ben was confused for a moment before he finally registered what you meant.

“What?”, he asked, his own voice sounding strained.

“It’s not until we’re old and grey. Our love lasted until we met again at this rocky road. And now you’re leaving me standing in the rain. But I want you to know that I will always have a special place in my heart for you.”, you pressed out before leaving behind the man you called your home.

“Until we meet again.”, Ben whispered, his heart broken, his love gone. His insecurities and fears had won. She would now meet someone who had more time for her. She would now find someone who was better looking than him. She would now learn to love a man who was better for her than him. Someone who would not let his fears of losing the woman he loved so much take over him. Someone who would not break up with her to give her the chance of meeting someone better, but someone who was the perfect man for her.

What Ben always failed to realise was that he was that, despite all his imperfections, he was that perfect man for her.

The blonde man stepped to the door, leaning his hand against the cold wood. His knees buckled, then gave in. He let his body drop, leaned his head against the door and cried. Occasionally, pained sobs ripped through his body.

Not even Frankie, who gently leaned against him, could help him ease the pain.

That was truly an extraordinary morning.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy one shot #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy x female reader #ben hardy x fem reader #ben #ben hardy oneshot #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x reader angst #angsty #angst #breakup #relationship #part 2 #writing #love #borhap #borhap cast #borhap x reader #sad ben hardy #frankie #margit writes

[kdtheghostwriter]

SNK #119 - Jaeger ni Kissu

Let me get some Fs in the chat, pls.

So, what the hell? Shiganshina am I right? What’s the deal with that crazy place, huh?

You would think this fandom, more than all the others, would be used to getting the slider when they expect a fastball. (That’s right! I know baseball stuff!) Even I have to admit, though, Isa got me with this one. It’s all pretty thrilling to me as a reader. I’ll explain why later but first, some housekeeping. Remember when I said this a few months ago? That Eren’s expression was less relieved and more shocked leaning toward concerned? Welp.

Arm extended; mouth agape. The universal signs of “No, not that you asshole!” It’s also masterful paneling to have Colt’s cry of “Wait!” superimposed onto the Attack Titan, which we know can’t speak. Eren was mortified by the idea of his hometown being overrun with Titans yet again. That was hardly surprising. What did surprise me was Zeke’s look of shock as the Grice brothers revealed themselves. He still screamed, of course, as should have been expected. But that moment of hesitation…hmm. I guess he really did like Colt. It’s not out of the question. He just liked his plan more.

And since we’re on the topic, I’d like some words about this panel right here.

Dammit all, this one hit more than any of the others for me. See, Zeke, it’s not just you who understands the joys and the sorrows and the burdens of being an older brother. I do myself. Falco realized what was about to happen and tried to save his brother’s life by pushing him away. Colt refused and held him tighter.

Don’t worry, Falco! Your big brother will always be with you!

Fuck me, how am I supposed to keep my chill after a scene like that? Sure enough, Colt was scorched as his brother transformed into a mindless, lumbering monster which transitions me nicely into something else I said in the aftermath of #117. Someone did indeed have to die. I only guessed wrong who.

Reiner is going to survive this manga whether he wants to or not. More importantly, what a champion Porco is. Knew he was cooked, so he put all his energy into healing his body. Then he left the cockpit to distract Falco’s Titan and save two people. The fact that he did this right after seeing the memory of his brother confessing to Reiner that he lied is no accident. He wasn’t just proving to Reiner he was better; he was getting one back at his big brother. It’s equal parts heroic and tragic which is par for the course of this series. He died in almost the exact same way Marcel did all those years ago – saving Reiner’s dumbass from being nommed up. I’ll miss you Porco, but at least you’ll live on in the memories of the little one.

 Speaking of little ones: maybe we should start calling her “Deadeye” Gabi Braun. This was such an inspired choice. Not just because of who pulled the trigger in the end (and partly because of whose gun she used), which got the intended reaction, but also because of who she hit. I thought for sure she would have taken aim for Zeke. It would have made sense. A wounded, stationary target is a lot easier to mark than one sprinting at full speed. (That’s what MGS3 taught me at least.) She’s a soldier, though, and the main reason she hijacked the blimp in Liberio was to kill The Usurper. It’s unclear to me if Magath’s mission here is strictly Dead or Alive or if they were trying to capture him but either way her mission, for now, appears to be accomplished. I say “appears to be” because it’s time for my favorite monthly mini-game:

WHY, SWAY, WHY??

There’s a lot we don’t know yet about Titan powers, Eldian biology and the transference from one vessel to another. If Marley’s goal specifically was to recapture the Founder instead of simply stopping Eren from using it, this is what Zeke would call a miscalculation. We know that Titan Powers get transferred Avatar-style to a rando newborn Eldian when a Shifter dies before succession. I actually believe there’s a lot of story left to go. But! There isn’t enough left to now try and track down, out of all the Eldians still in the world, which one holds this terrifying power. (That would make a great AU, though.) Not to mention, we don’t know what happens in the case of a Shifter holding more than one power. Do all three Titans go to one child? Do they get split up back into three by the P A T H S? We don’t know. All of this is reason to expect some chicanery in the next few months or so. Besides any of that we are no closer to knowing what Eren’s true intentions are in regards to why he wants to use the Founder. Isayama Hajime is absolutely the kind of author to blast his main character into oblivion before the story has concluded. He is not the kind of author to leave a stone unturned. We found out about the Shifters and we found out about the basement. Whatever knowledge was revealed to him will not be kept secret, even if it isn’t by his own hand.

Sidebar: decapitation is weird, even in messy circumstances like this one. The electric signals in the brain often keep firing for minutes after the head has been removed. This is how beheaded snakes continue to hiss and bite after the fact. My troll prediction would be Eren’s head landing in Zeke’s hand like so many baseballs in his lifetime; the Coordinate is activated and Shiganshina proceeds to have a bad time.

I don’t know, folks. I couldn’t help but think of one very important rule as I read the closing pages.

Always Double Tap, dude. Gabi just had to go for the swag. See, if she had popped Eren’s head like a bloody firework I would have said, “Welp, you had a good run, kid.” But nope. You went and left the most powerful being in existence an outside outside chance of survival, and if he does, even for a few seconds more, everybody is screwed.

No segue, I just love these two teaming up. It makes sense that Mikasa and Armin have gotten closer as Eren has gotten more distant. I think seeing how that dynamic evolves as the story builds to its conclusion will be very important. For now, on the surface level, they just really care for each other.

 The last time I got a feeling like this, I was a young lad watching Samurai Jack in the early 00s. I would watch every week without fail on the Cartoon Network, engrossed for the entire runtime. And then, oh, the long and nagging wait. I can admit that having most stuff On Demand is impossibly handy for this particular moment in history, but goddamn do I remember having to wait a whole ass week for my favorite show to come back. Fans of Shingeki no Kyojin don’t realize how good they have it.

Replicating that feeling is almost impossible, not just because of how product is released now. Every story has been told before, in some way. Sometime in the last Millenia or so, our slimy lizard brains have come to expect certain beats and structure from stories. It makes the stories good, but also predictable. I can tell you as a writer, it’s so very difficult to find a way to surprise people in a genuine and engaging way.

This is going to sound more cold and callous than intended but, it does involve manipulating an audience to achieve your desired outcome. You want to lead them to the place you want to go and let them think it was their plan all along. This is the Art of Storytelling: I know what you want better than you do. This involves knowing your audience, and I think it’s safe to say after his “I want to hurt people with this,” comment that no writer on the planet right now knows his audience better than Isayama.

Fans of SNK should be happy. I’ve said this before: it isn’t the best book out right now (that’s still OPM, read that shit) but it is the most unpredictable. That doesn’t always make a story good, but in this case, it’s the greatest factor. Feel free to speculate and discuss. That’s what fandom is for. Just give up now on trying to work out what comes next. Only one person knows that. Isa has had this story plotted out for years with diversions here and there. We won’t know until it all ends. Enjoy this ride now. I can promise you we will never see anything like this manga ever again.

  Stray Thoughts

- Still no Kyomi. Still no Tiny Queen. I know the main character just got his head yeeted but let’s get some deets now, pls.

- I was so looking forward to the memes and am happy to report that I wasn’t let down. Well done, friends.

- The 104th Squad continues to persist, as does Yelena. We’ll earmark this for later.

- The fact that both the Jaeger Brothers got shot before Floch Forster is high dark comedy.

- In a battle this chaotic, things like skill and experience are often nullified. It makes perfect sense that Eren would be caught off-guard by a soldier he didn’t even know was there, child though she may be. Right place, wrong time. These Things Happen.

- Armin taking out the Cart’s turret gun was a slick little callback to when he bought time for Eren to take down Bertolt.

- I’m interested in Armin’s game plan here. Marley’s infantry is about to be overrun by Titans, so what else does he aim to do? And how will Yelena interfere?

- Nile said he wouldn’t see his family again. We all knew he was right but man, the look on his face when his number was called. That’s tough. Shout-outs to Pixis, getting one last sip in. You a real one.

#snk meta #shingeki no spoilers #snk 119 #eren jaeger #zeke jaeger #reiner braun #porco galliard #falco grice #colt grice #gabi braun #pieck #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirschstein #connie springer #floch forster #nile dok #dot pixis #theo magath #floch is in the bag #isa said 'i need the story to go until 2020' #gabi said 'i got you fam' #can't wait until next month #when i only have to tag two characters #wink wink

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

Child Of Mine Part 5

Fandom: Queen/ Bohemian Rhapsody

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Roger Taylor X reader

TW: language

Genre: FLUFF

Word Count: 1.2K

Requests: OPEN

A/N: And this concludes Child Of Mine!! I hope you guys have enjoyed this series as much as I have!

"You're- I- what?" Roger gaped at you, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

"Yeah. 1 month along. That's why I've been so sick recently..." You replied anxiously, biting your lip.

"Why didn't you tell me, love?" He questioned, softly taking your hands in his, entwining your fingers.

"I was scared that... that you'd leave me- leave us- as he did when he found out about Olivia. I was planning to tell you last night but then..."How could Roger not know what you were talking about?

"I would never- look at me." He gently placed a finger under your chin, guiding your eyes to his.

"I would never leave you. You mean so fucking much to me. And I'd love nothing more than to raise another child with you." Roger cupped both your cheeks in his calloused hands, rubbing a thumb over your opposing smooth skin.

"Really?" You asked quietly, fingers latching onto his wrist.

"Of course. I'd never want anything else." Roger smiled before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, soft like he was scared to touch you. It reminded you of both your first kiss and the kiss exchanged on your wedding day. Magical. He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you. Both of you." you kissed the palm of his hand as his other went to your stomach. Your cheeks burnt red at his comment.

"I love too." He mumbled and you giggled slightly, triggering a chuckle from Roger.

"Maybe we should tell Olivia?" You suggested.

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea," Roger responded, a small smile gracing his lips. He was so goddamn happy.

"We should let her calm down first. She's still pretty pissed at you." You reasoned

"I can tell." He muttered.

"She'll come around." You pressed your head to Roger's shoulder and he threads his hand into your hair, fingers carefully untangling your locks.

"Roger, come on! We're going to be late!" You called up the stairs.

"I'm coming. I'm coming!" He shot back. You were holding your son, Harold (or Harry as everyone called him), on your hip and Olivia was shuffling next to you, a book of astrophysics in her hand. The necklace Roger had given her ten years ago was dangling from her neck gracefully.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather be with your friends? We won't mind, Liv?" You enquired, brushing a stray blonde curl from Harry's face.

"Nah, I'm good. They're going to some shitty, over-priced concert, I get to see an amazing one, for free, in the comforts of a recording studio." Olivia remarked, keeping her eyes fixated on her book. You smiled before lightly ruffling her hair. Olivia shot you a playful glare before fixing her hair and getting back to her book.

"Mommy, what does 'shitty' mean?"  Harry babbled, accidentally pulling your hair as he played with his dinosaur.

"It's a bad word, that you should never ever say, okay Harry? If you hear Daddy or Livy say it, you tell them off." You answered, poking his sides playfully.

"Okay, Mommy. Why's Daddy taking so long? I want to see Uncle Fred, Uncle Bri and uncle Deacy!" He continued, hitting your shoulder lightly with his toy.

"Because Daddy's a drama Queen," Olivia said, glancing up at her little brother. Harry giggled.

"I'm here! Can we go now?" Roger stated, hanging onto the handrail.

"It's you we were waiting for you son of a b-"Olivia began jokingly.

"Let's go before your uncles get annoyed at Daddy." You interrupted, looking at your little boy. Roger laughed before taking Harry into his arms, tickling his sides, causing your three-year-old to burst into boyish laughter. Olivia joined in, pulling one of his shoes off and tickling his feet. You couldn't help but grin at the sight. Suddenly, you pulled Harry into your arms, using your back to protect him, like Roger had done to Olivia so many years ago. Harry giggled, taking a heavy breath in as you carefully placed the shoe back on his foot.

"Seriously, we should get going," Roger said with a childish smile before pressing a kiss to Olivia's cheek as you took Harry to the car, strapping him into his car seat. Olivia smiled up at Roger before following her mother and getting into the back seat, her eyes going back to her book. As you closed the door to your son's side of the car, Roger strolled up behind you, clasping his arms around your waist, resting his head in your neck. Every breath Roger let out ticked your neck and left goosebumps behind.

"Everything okay?" You asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"Everything is perfect. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have such a gorgeous, kind, absolutely wonderful family." Roger pondered before letting you go. You turned around to face him, a smile on your lips.

"C'mon Taylor, don't get sappy on me now." You released but quickly pecked his lips.

"Sorry, ma'am." He chirped with a grin before scooting past you to the driver's side. You shook your head before clambering into the passenger seat.

"My darlings! You're finally here!"Freddie bellowed as you all walked in, snatching your son from Roger's grip, throwing Harry in the air and catching him. Harry let out a loud laugh. Olivia giggled quietly, making her way to the couch. She collapsed beside Brian. Next, to Roger, Brian had become her favourite member of Queen. They both had a passion for astrophysics and loved learning. As soon as Olivia sat beside him, the pair fell into a deep conversation.

"It goes fast, doesn't it?" Deacy commented, breaking your gaze over your daughter.

"Yeah. You're almost scared to blink in case you miss anything. I can't quite believe she's going to University in a few months."You smiled, proudly. You were so fucking proud of your Olivia. She'd gotten top grades in her exams and had access to some of the best universities.

"She's a great kid. I'm almost jealous. You have such a tight bond and her and Roger are incredibly close. She brings out the best in him." Deacy wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

"Rog responded to her amazingly. I was really worried he'd break up with me or something. And when Harry came along... I don't know... I got stressed out." You sighed and Deacy chuckled.

"So did Roger. He came to us, bursting at the seems. He kept going on about how he was so scared because he said he didn't know how to raise a kid. He was scared he'd fuck it up. Then Freddie told him he'd done it before, and he was really confused." Deacy explained before Freddie waltzed over. That's when you noticed Roger on the couch, cuddling Harry to his chest, lost in conversation with Bri and Olivia.

"He didn't realize that he'd helped you raise Olivia.  Didn't realize he was such an influence on her. It's beyond me how he didn't notice."  Freddie added. Olivia was still chatting, but she had curled up to Roger's side lazily, Harry playing with her hand.

"Harry looks up to Olivia and Roger. Olivia is amazing with her brother and Roger just... he's a better dad than any of us expected" Deacy commented.

"You were his first proper girlfriend, y'know? He's never really been in a proper relationship. Everything that you did together was new to him. He'd never dealt with kids that weren't fans before. So to see him with Olivia, and now Harry too, it's heartwarming." Freddie gushed. You couldn't help that sprung to your face. You stood next to your closest friends, watching your husband and your kids playing with your best friend. Everything was going to be alright.

Tags: @dusthas-beenbitten @fckmeroger-ina @benhardyjones @yourealegendroger @queens-n-roses @silvver-rose @yourealegendfred @writingfortoomanyfandoms @iaminlovewithmydrums @screaminggalileochickenwrites @nataliekilla @alexfayer @fierce-bab @cheeseedreams47 (your dumb bitch forgot to add tags lmao)

#phoebe writes #phoebe speaks #queen #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #brian may #brian may x reader #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #freddie mercury #freddie mercury x reader #rami malek #rami malek x reader #child of mine #joe mazzello #john deacon #joe mazzello x reader #john deacon x reader

[poeticallyunkind]

Valentine’s Day - Whizzvin

Marvin Blumenfeld had always hated Valentine’s day. He thought of it as something artificial, a holiday used by the corporate world to exploit the devotion of lovers for a quick profit. The gaudy, over-the-top cards and pricey chocolates never failed to bombard him throughout the month. He couldn’t even board the subway without roughly one thousand advertisements displaying these overpriced sentiments. Every year, words such as passion or romance lost their meaning as the holiday ran its course. Love was replaced with frantic purchases and a competition between partners for the best gifts. He could only roll his eyes and watch as the couples around him were blinded by capitalism, prioritizing expensive trinkets over their relationships. Simply put, Valentine’s day was meant for love. Why did love have to equate to empty wallets?

To much protest from his lover, Marvin had flat-out refused to allow Whizzer to take him out on a date this year. In the past, Whizzer had gone all-out with dozens of candles, flashy gifts, and even surprise weekend getaways. He held an opinion on the holiday that almost directly opposed Marvin’s; he was a sucker for all things red, pink, or shrouded in generic hearts. It was a source of tension that seemed to reappear as though it were clockwork. Their arguments would always morph into something unique as the holiday grew closer. Instead of the occasional petty fight, they’d bicker over whether or not to buy the latest gift that Whizzer had been eyeing. And as exhausting as it was to listen to the taller man list reasons regarding why the couple should own an oversized teddy bear, it was admittedly heartwarming to see Whizzer care so much.

Still, there was the problem with the gift-giving. He hated burdening Whizzer’s wallet. Marvin appreciated the effort to no end, of course, but letting his boyfriend blow hard-earned money on items that would soon end up forgotten was out of the question. Neither man could tell you just how long their arguments lasted, but Christ, were they intense. While Marvin cited alternative, inexpensive ways to celebrate the holiday, Whizzer had his heart set on several ideas of extravagance. Both were shocked when-- sometime in the stretch of hours leading up to Valentine’s day-- Marvin came to a decision. This year, it’d be simple. A day spent nestled in their apartment, thankfully without a single box of chocolates or bouquet of flowers in sight. No surprises, nothing spent. Together. Just the way that he had hoped.

--- 

“God, you’re amazing,” Marvin huffed, watching rays of soft light pour in through the curtains. He noted how cold air drifted through the thin window panes with ease.

They were currently in their bedroom, bare limbs entwined after a wonderfully intense morning together. Marvin hadn’t expected to wake up to his lover’s lips pressed gently to his neck-- and soon to other areas of the body-- but it wasn’t as though he was complaining. Both were out of breath, inhaling as their ecstasy slowly melted into a sense of content. His appearance was something akin to cliche-- messy hair, tinted cheeks, and hickies dotted along the collarbone. He ran his fingertips through Whizzer’s hair, a habit that always seemed to crop up after sex.

Whizzer’s head nuzzled into Marvin’s chest, inevitably making the shorter man’s heart pound. “You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.”

All in all, not a bad start to Valentine’s day. Getting intimate with the man he loved was something he could appreciate on any given occasion, but something about doing it on a day devoted to romance made it borderline magical. Then again, it may have just been post-orgasm bliss talking.

“Honestly, I don’t see why you fret over buying expensive gifts,” he started. “That was better than anything you could even hope of finding in stores.”

Whizzer scoffed. “Oh, stop. We agreed not to talk about it anymore! You know how badly I wanted to buy you those Gucci pants, and I’m still--”

“I’m not letting you drop two hundred dollars on a pair of pants.”

“Hmph. Someone clearly doesn’t appreciate having a boyfriend with taste,” Whizzer lulled, caressing Marvin’s chest. “You’d look so hot in the clothes I wanna buy you.”

Marvin continued to toy with his partner’s hair. “That’s the thing, though. I really don’t want you to buy them for me, especially over a holiday like this.”

“What, did you not like them or something? You clearly said you liked them in the store!” the taller man insisted.

Marvin paused. “It’s not that I didn’t like them…”

“Then what was it?”

“I just didn’t want you to waste your money on me.”

Whizzer suddenly tensed up beneath his touch. “God, please not this again.”

A frown appeared on Marvin’s lips. “What are you talking about?”

“Jesus, Marv, I’ll never understand why this puts you in such a sour mood. You’ll let me buy you a thing or two at any other point in the year, but the second I even suggest something romantic in the month of February…” Whizzer trailed off.

Marvin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Baby, I’ve told you this countless times, but I really can’t express just how stupid it is that we, as a species, decided to twist a day that was devoted to showing affection into a corporate cash grab.”

“Oh.” Whizzer’s tone teetered dangerously towards sadness. The word lingered uncomfortably in the air, as if there was more to be said.

Tilting his head, the shorter man pressed a kiss to Whizzer’s forehead. “Come on, please don’t be like that. What’s on your mind? I can tell there’s something you’re not saying to my face.”

“I was taught not to talk if I didn’t have something nice to say,” he replied thinly. It wasn’t until he began to inch out of Marvin’s grasp that another word was spoken. He moved to the side, gripping the edge of the mattress with both fists.

“Whiz, are you really that upset over not buying me a gift?”

“Yes!” he finally groaned. “There, I said it. Are we done yet?”

Another moment of silence passed. God, the clock hadn’t even managed to pass eight, and they were already bickering. Not even a full ten minutes ago, they were practically giddy. Now, Whizzer looked as though he were on the verge of screaming.

“Baby,” Marvin cooed. “I can only help if you tell me why you’re feeling this way.”

Whizzer sulked at the edge of the bed, gazing absently at the floorboards. “It’s a pretty stupid thing to be upset about, now that I think about it.”

“What do you mean?”

An inhale. “I don’t know. I just feel… weird about it, I guess. Like I’m not being a good boyfriend. You basically treat me like a prince all year long, and what the hell do I give you in return? Sex? The occasional meal? It just doesn’t seem like enough, y’know?”

Marvin gaped at his boyfriend, slightly bewildered. He had never so much as considered the idea that Whizzer could feel inadequate. His wonderful, loving boyfriend. How was it even possible for someone so perfect-- perhaps his favorite person in the world-- to feel that way?

“And Valentine’s day,” he continued, a nervous smile tracing his lips. “is usually when I try to do something that shows you just how much I care about you. Sure, there are things like Hanukkah or your birthday, but Valentine’s day has always held a special place in my heart. It’s for lovers, after all. And I love you.”

Another deep breath, and Whizzer soon came to a conclusion. “I know that you’re not a fan of watching me spend money. You probably think that I’m wasting it, actually. But to me, treating my boyfriend well isn’t a waste of money, baby. You’ve done tons of things for me, and I feel like I haven’t done a goddamn thing for you. I try to show you how much I adore you on holidays like this because I clearly don’t do it enough, Marv.”

Sounds of traffic came from the street below; it was a cacophony of honking and engines and skidding tires. That was the only perceivable noise. No words. Just his lover, sitting at the edge of the bed, looking as though he was ready to collapse. Marvin could only stare wordlessly, failing to find the right syllables to describe just how wrong Whizzer was about himself. So, in a moment of pure desperation, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re wrong.” The sentence was accompanied by a quick tug at the taller man’s hand, pulling him back into Marvin’s embrace.

“I’m not,” Whizzer responded dryly. Still, he accepted the hug. “But thanks.”

Marvin groaned. “Whizzer, stop deflecting my words. Just listen to me.”

“I don’t--”

“Shush! Whiz, you realize that I love you more than almost anyone, don’t you?” Before he could be interrupted, he quickly interlaced his fingers with his boyfriend’s. “I love you for who you are, not for what you bring to the table. And you’ve done plenty to let me know that you feel the same. Valentine’s day isn’t about buying flashy gifts or expensive dates, it’s about loving each other. Staying beside me through hard times, caring for me, committing to what we have together -- those are the things that have made it more than clear that you love me. You have nothing to prove, baby. I love you, and I know you love me back. There are no gifts required.”

Whizzer’s expression became somewhat complex as Marvin concluded. For a moment he thought that he had upset his partner, based on the gut-wrenching tears that began to stream down his face. All of a sudden, though, Whizzer bit back a genuine, lovelorn smile. He buried his face in Marvin’s neck, his words becoming borderline unintelligible as they tickled his skin. Still, he was positive that he knew what his boyfriend had said.

“I love you.”

Perhaps Valentine’s day wasn’t so bad after all.

#falsettos #whizzvin #whizzer brown #marvin falsettos #musicals #theater #theatre #fanfiction #fanfic #gay #lgbt #my writing #falsettos 2016 #chardelia

[cannabisrefugee-esq]

Crohn's Disease is a Terminal Illness. Coming to Terms.

January 23, 2019

After researching this disease for going on 6 years now, I believe I have come to a rational conclusion about Crohn’s disease which is that it is not a so-called incurable progressive disease but a fatal one: based on all the evidence including anecdotal evidence from patients themselves I now believe that Crohn’s disease is a terminal illness.  I have more or less concluded that before but for some reason I hadn’t yet come to terms with it.  It’s not easy to come to terms with something like that but not because I suffer from what is almost certainly going to cause my untimely death but because everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone is lying their asses off about Crohn’s disease including how “treatable” it is, what kind of quality of life Crohn’s patients can reasonably expect, how predictably disabling it is and why, and how it’s probably going to end.

But before we get to the end it’s important to start at the beginning and admit what Crohn’s disease is at base: Crohn’s patients, including myself, have to medicate in order to eat. And that is serious, very serious indeed.  If there is anything that is any less compatible with life than a disease that prevents the sick person from eating I can’t think of it.  A disease that prevented the sick person from breathing wouldn’t be any less compatible with life than Crohn’s is, it would just be quicker.

To illustrate, for the last 6 weeks or so I have been extremely fatigued to the point of being bedridden for most of it.  If it weren’t for having to get up to take care of my cats and absolutely bare-minimally tending to my small business I probably wouldn’t have been able to get up at all.  Once I had to move from the bed to the couch for most of the day because my bed had become damp and clammy from having laid in it for too many hours, days and weeks in a row: I flayed the covers off it and hit it with a box fan.  I couldn’t change the sheets because my only other set has been sitting in the hamper for 2 months waiting to be washed and other chronically ill people know exactly what that means: the last good day I had was 2 months ago where I changed the sheets and did half of my laundry.  Since then I haven’t been able to do a good goddamned thing.

Anyway, I’ve been so unbelievably exhausted recently that I’ve been unable to medicate properly.  Instead of changing my cannabis-infused transdermal patches every day or every other day, a few times I let it go for 4 or 5 days and for that I paid a terrible price: on top of the crippling fatigue and general malaise, as well as the continuous, daily pain and symptoms from Crohn’s which are always present to some degree and never go away, I was also so fucking sick from not medicating that I could no longer eat.  I had terrible stomach and intestinal pain including distressing burning, itching, pulling, pressure and boggy sensations as well as gastroparesis, nausea, heartburn, esophageal spasms and unsurprisingly, a profound aversion to food.  Which was good in a way since I was so tired I couldn’t have gotten to the grocery store to buy food anyway even if I had money to buy it or even a way to get to the store which I don’t.  And all of this misery, every bit of it including my poverty are due to the last 6 years spent as a full-blown Crohn’s patient but again, let’s not forget what Crohn’s is at base: it’s not about fatigue, it’s not about pain in a general or even in a specific way.  Although there is plenty of it it’s not about pain.  Crohn’s patients cannot eat.  We can’t eat.

As one might expect, following days, weeks, months and longer without a proper meal Crohn’s patients often become crazed and try to “eat something” — food which is then processed in our bodies exactly like poison.  We get nauseated and sweaty, we wretch, we heave, we shit our fucking brains out, all of which exacerbates our food aversion.  And as Crohn’s is admittedly a lifelong, incurable and progressive disease it goes on forever.  Forever.  Until you die from it.  No, Crohn’s patients do not die natural deaths peacefully in their sleep at an advanced age.  Crohn’s patients don’t sleep, at least not without massive pharmaceutical or other interventions.  When they die, Crohn’s patients die from not eating, or from the effects of their medications, or both. Or they die on the operating table or by suicide, both because of the Crohn’s.  They don’t have a chance to become old but again, that’s focusing on the end which becomes confusing as to cause.  Here it is helpful to go back to the beginning to what Crohn’s actually is at base: Crohn’s patients cannot eat.  We can’t eat.  And if you can’t eat you die.

All the conventional treatments we take, all the chasing our tails with alternative treatments including medical cannabis that aren’t sustainable anyway, all the resources poured into us (or not) by family and friends, all the money we spend on ourselves to get relief from this hideous disease is because we can’t eat and we are trying to fix that.  Even Crohn’s patients who achieve so-called “clinical remission” using dangerous and life-threatening drugs continue to have issues regardless of what the scopes say, regardless of whether there appears to be any active inflammation or not.  But if the treatment is successful, no matter how sick they still are, even if the medication gives them lupus or diabetes or AIDS or cancer, the “successful” Crohn’s patient will be able to eat.  That’s all we are asking for and it’s all some of us ever get — that’s what the successful ones get.  Although we are still sicker than most people can even imagine, finally, finally we get to eat.

And many Crohn’s patients never achieve clinical remission or have any success or get any relief at all from conventional treatments (i.e. we still can’t eat).  I didn’t.  After 2 entire years on conventional Crohn’s treatments I couldn’t eat a fucking thing.  Out of desperation I spent thousands of dollars on a sickening enteral feed that was supposed to give me all the nutrients I needed but without any fiber or anything to digest — it all went straight to my liver.  But because it had to go through my stomach and small intestine first, otherwise known as eating, all it did was make me sicker.  I was literally starving to death and there was nothing I or my doctors could do about it.  I was absolutely circling the drain.

It took me an entire year on mega-doses of marijuana (approaching 1,000mg THC daily, where 5-10mg is a standard recreational dose and 25-50mg is a standard medical dose) including smoking pot and eating simultaneously — a bite of food, a bong hit, repeat — to be able to tolerate food again.  After I stopped eating GMOs and switched to an exclusively 100% organic diet (including raw fermented organic food and various organic and non-GMO supplements) I didn’t have to smoke during meals anymore, but I still had to medicate daily.  In order to eat.  Of course, marijuana is also an exquisite pain reliever so a goodly portion of my pain and symptoms were also quelled and I felt remarkably better — about 50% better than I had since well before my diagnosis.  I was still extremely sick and I didn’t understand that part but I could eat again, I could sleep again and that was good enough for me.

I thought I would continue to get better though and I didn’t.   Because with Crohn’s the best you can hope for is to be able to eat again and even that’s not expected to last; it’s a progressive disease so you’re doing well if you stay the same and don’t get worse.  For me, because of the pot, I can still eat but I am, in fact, getting progressively worse.  The fatigue is worse, the good days are fewer and farther between but for now, because I can medicate, I can eat.  Of course, I can’t eat dairy, eggs, legumes, or anything in the gourd family (including squash, cucumber and melon) but I can eat.  As long as it’s organic and non-GMO I can eat (unless I can’t).

But what does it mean to be reliant on a consumerist solution — meaning “treatments” of any type including conventional, alternative or herbal including cannabis — in order to be able to eat?  That’s what no one seems willing to say.  From any angle, being dependent on a consumerist solution or any solution in order to eat means that you have an extremely serious and likely terminal disease.  Doesn’t it?  The fact that Crohn’s only gets worse over time underscores that point, where even if you do manage to find a consumerist solution that works, and even if you have easy access to it forever (most people don’t) over time you will find that you’re unable to eat once again.  Crohn’s “progresses” into stricturing or fistulizing late in the game, but early on it progresses from not being able to eat certain things to not being able to eat at all.  That’s the moment you would normally die except for consumerist solutions that only prolong the dying process.   You will face death by starvation again if you live that long where conventional treatments are known to kill you.

And that’s another point isn’t it — the drugs.  How, one may wonder, does Big Medicine justify giving extremely toxic drugs to Crohn’s patients when the drugs themselves cause hideous and disabling iatrogenic illnesses and injuries including lupus, opportunistic infections and cancer?  How can anyone reasonably accept being “infected” with full-blown untreated AIDS via immune system decimating “chemo” cancer drugs which themselves also cause cancer as a treatment for anything, especially something so (allegedly) trivial as Crohn’s disease?  The seriousness of Crohn’s is consistently downplayed by everyone who refuses to accept that it’s a terminal illness if you can’t eat you die, but the fact remains that no matter how sadistic our Big Pharma overlords really are, and it’s a lot, the benefit of the treatment still has to outweigh the risks at least on paper.  And the only way I can imagine that AIDS and cancer are better to have than Crohn’s is that Crohn’s is worse.  More relentlessly painful.  More predictably and profoundly disabling.  More likely to result in imminent death.  And everyone, and I mean everyone is lying about that.

I blame Big Pharma with its fictional Crohn’s drugs commercials that show (for example) a perfectly healthy actor in no distress whatsoever resting one hand on the waistband of his flat-front Dockers suggesting virtually nothing about what Crohn’s disease really entails (it’s not just about having unpredictable “bathroom visits” but it often includes that).  Also, in this culture, “the bathroom” is the final phase of eating.  Duh.  Read between the lines here people.  Eating is not comprised solely of chewing and swallowing (although some Crohn’s patients can’t even do that much).  If you can’t process food you will die and Crohn’s patients cannot process food whether they barf it up, shit it out too soon and too unprocessed, fail to assimilate it even if they can keep it down and/or in, or if they give up and/or can’t “eat” it at all.  I’ve seen Crohn’s patients admit that they often chew up food for the taste/craving satisfaction and then spit it out without swallowing.  That’s not eating y’all.

No one accepts that Crohn’s disease is fatal but now that I’ve seen what I’ve seen, I kind of have to.  I was unable to eat for 2 entire years and I felt like I was dying; I once told a friend that I couldn’t imagine living that way for another 40 years (I was 40 at the time) and I had no idea how right I was about that.  It’s unimaginable in this case because it’s not possible; it is not possible to get out of a fatal disease alive and Crohn’s disease is a fatal disease.  I was, of course, dying.  It took someone like me to figure it out — a professional problem solver and someone used to looking at patriarchal insanity and making perfect sense of it — and even I almost missed it because I was so unbelievably sick and weak, so brainwashed by the propaganda and so insane from the pain and medication I was unable to research much of anything let alone to deeply analyze it.  I spent easily $100,000 and 4 entire years this March getting comfortable/well enough to even attempt to get my head around what was happening to me, to organize my thoughts and to write about it on this blog.  I’ve written about it extensively for almost a year now and I just came to this conclusion a couple of days ago as what seems to me a natural progression of this research, these discussions and this work.  Crohn’s is fatal, I have a terminal disease, and now I get to come to terms with that.

I won’t comment on whether other autoimmune diseases are similarly fatal where patients are also prescribed the same immunity-decimating drugs that cause (essentially) AIDS, diabetes and cancer because I don’t know enough about them, but I think there is plenty that suggests that they are.  Why is letting a doctor give you AIDS better than living with untreated MS, RA and all the other autoimmune diseases that are routinely treated with chemo and biologics that leave the patient without an immune system and who is it better for, seem like questions worth asking.  In the case of Crohn’s, there is at least a chance (allegedly and on paper) that the patient will temporarily be able to eat again; and I think untreated (and treated) MS eventually stops your breathing but I’m not sure.

But why is Crohn’s specifically so downplayed when it is so gravely serious, why are Crohn’s patients specifically expected to continue working and recreating as if nothing is wrong when they are literally fucking dying and have to medicate successfully in order to eat?  Why in this case specifically will no one call a spade a spade and admit that it’s a terminal illness/fatal disease when it pretty obviously is one?   That’s what I’m thinking about now.

Please feel free to leave comments below.

#crohn's disease #capitalistic patriarchical medicine #alternative treatments #chronic illness #advertising #medicine #Healthcare #doctor who #drugs #dying

[doomedandstoned]

What Weird Tales We Weave!

During a particularly long and vicious Pacific Northwest winter, I developed a strange affinity for a band called WEIRD TALES. The doom trio of Dima (guitars, vox), Kriss (bass, vox), and Kava (drums) emerged three or four years ago from a part of the world that gets cold, miserable weather ten times as worse as mine. I was never quite sure what to make of the Warsaw band's warped, sloggy sound, made all the more odd with its imposing Gothic vocals and pernicious earworms. All I knew was that Weird Tales had some bad, bad medicine to offer during a time in life when I'd grown pretty jaded and disillusioned. It was, as the well-worn saying goes, just what the doctor ordered.

Before us is the latest and most ambitious effort to date from Weird Tales and I must say it's showing me a brave new side to the band. As 'Hell Services Cost A Lot' (2019) opens, we hear an orchestral crescendo of screeching feedback. Dogs are barking in the background, perhaps to warn lurkers of dangers just beyond the shadows. The band responds with a vicious beating of guitar, bass, and drums. It's an attack we're not used to hearing on doom records and I find it refreshing to break away from the gloom for a chance to vent some good old fashioned aggression. This instrumental preamble eventually gives way to the first words of "Madness" and the record is off to take care of its mischief.

Hell services cost a Lot by Weird Tales

I don’t know just who I am I don’t know who is that man He looks on me from the fucking mirror Stares at me and laughs, waiting for you

Voices in my skull come louder and louder Push me to that edge, there's no return Where I put them bones on bloody altar Drinking wine, dancing, waiting for the end

Hey Get out from my brain I don’t need you there Get out from my brain I don’t need you there, I don’t want you there

Hell services cost a Lot by Weird Tales

"Crawling Pain" is next and I can't get over just how much the band's style has shaken off that hazy, bummed-out strangeness. Seriously, their first two EPs (both dropped in 2017) are like tripping out on cough syrup. I wanted to review them (really I did), but I struggled with what to even say. You don't talk about the Golden Age of Weird Tales; you live it, man. With Hell Services, it's like the boys woke up after an all-night bender, seized by a sudden rush of early morning adrenaline, grabbed the carpe diem of the day and exclaimed, "You lazy, no good son of a bitch, give me my goddamn money!" I swear, I almost thought I was listening to a different band, like there’d been some big personnel change or something, so different was the state of things. Put another way, if Weird Tales and Shiny Void were a dextromethorphan-soaked dream, Hell Services is like a PCP-fueled nightmare.

Hell services cost a Lot by Weird Tales

Here's another thing I didn't expect to hear on a Weird Tales record: the harmonica. I mean it works, but WTF. "LIE" shakes me loose from my comfort zone. I've heard enough doom metal to pretty much know the tricks, the tropes, the whole shebang. I trust Weird Tales have, too, so I'm pretty sure they're pissed off by the whole thing, so they upset the stage coach just enough to keep us guessing (and hanging on for dear life) for the duration of the record. Whether it's for our benefit or theirs, anything's better than boredom, right?

Hell services cost a Lot by Weird Tales

By far, my favorite song of the album is "Nightmare." It is indeed a frightening song (my chest seized up a little when I listened to it in complete darkness -- yes, sometimes I do these crazy things just because). I smirked when I read the lyrics sometime later, realizing the band's sardonic humor has not disappeared.

Nasty hands inside the walls They will get you when you are alone Mom and dad can erase your fear Anyway they will not hear your scream

A heavy blanket covers your eyes Every time you see something wrong The world you made seems so pure Seems so pure that you can’t even breathe

Living the nightmare Live in the nightmare

Hell services cost a Lot by Weird Tales

Maniacal laughter transitions us from the rabid savagery of "Bitchcrusher" into "Warnings" where Weird Tales really get their "Slomatics" on. I do believe this is the loudest and the largest I've heard them. If I heard this echoing out of my window in the dead of night, I would swear that the pit of hell had been open and Satan's demons were being loosed to troll the hell out of mankind.

Hell services cost a Lot by Weird Tales

It’s not until the record’s wild ride comes to a head that we pick up hints of the Weird Tales of old. “Dead Man” is this final number. No wonder. It’s the perfect vehicle to bring a return to sluggish form, though not for long because madness never takes a vacation. Hell Services concludes on a high note with the same bang-up, rip-torn, kick-ass note it started on.

Hell services cost a Lot by Weird Tales

A colleague of mine who deals in more new doom than even I do remarked some weeks back that Hell Services is the best album of the year so far. I'd given it a cursory listen at the time, but hadn't revisited it for months. I swear, my thinking was so cluttered from the traffic jam of new releases from big names and heavy hitters in 2018 that I didn't give as many lesser known bands a fair, focused listen. Good music does not depend on the PR cycle, and thank Christ for that.

All that to say this: the full-length debut from Weird Tales is indeed a good album. No, more than that, it is a great one -- especially when you know how distinguished the Poland scene is with the likes of Dopelord, Major Kong, sunnata, Spaceslug, 71TONMAN, Weedpecker, and BelzebonG. Weird Tales have risen to the occasion with the obstinacy of a punk crew driving a tricked-out Sherman tank.

Hell Services Cost A Lot is an acid-seeped wonder to join the likes of Satori Junk's Golden Dwarf, Three Eyes Left's The Cult of Ashtoreth, Shepherds Crook's Evil Magician, Magmakammer's Mindtripper and other far-out fever dreams.

☠

A Walk on the Weird Side with    Mad Men Dima, Kriss, and Kava

Photographs by Beata Wiśniowska  

Alright, let's do start with a little round of Who's Who?

DIMA:

Okay, there's Kava, our drummer. He had played in Luna Negra, one of the first Polish stoner bands, since 2008. You can find their records on YouTube. A couple tracks still have more viewers than Weird Tales. (laughs)

Next is Kriss, the bassist, who also provides backing vocals. Kriss played in the stoner band Sun Frenzy previously. You should check them out on Bandcamp.

I, of course, am Dima. I’d never played stoner music before -- and thank the gods for that.

How did you guys get together to begin with?

DIMA:

One day, I lost my job for drinking beer on a break and sniffing drugs on my office table -- in official documents they mentioned only liquor. (laughs) So my first thought, besides getting more cheap beers, was to start a doom band. The only right choice, isn't it? The same day, I came to a jam session in order to meet some people to play doom with and in the next couple days met Kava at our first rehearsal. I already had some ideas and riffs, just didn’t have desire to work on it and make structured tracks. I needed like-minded people to share ideas and work on it with others. You know, like in every art. When you're alone, it’s like jerking off. Definitely enjoyable while doing it, but without any sense. With Kava, we smoked couple of bowls while listening Ufomammut and agreed about the direction we should go as a band.

Kriss came later. Actually, he’s our fourth bassist. He is a crazy motherfucker! And he was our biggest fan in a town. (laughs) Visited all our gigs. When his band broke up, we were looking for a new bassist, so offered him a tryout. After a couple of rehearsals, we knew that he was exactly what we were looking for. It’s really easy to play with a guy who likes your music and knows what it's all about. So we found a common language really quick. He's got a really cool groove. Have I mentioned yet that he’s a crazy motherfucker? We rehearsed a couple of old and new songs, then headed right out on tour.

Kriss and Kava, what got the two of you into this kind of music?

KRISS:

It has to be Satan, I guess, but I don't believe in Satan -- and that’s weird.

KAVA:

The Devil, alcohol, drugs, good fun, girls.

Fair enough. What it's like to live and grow up in your neck of the woods?

KRISS:

I grew up like a long time ago and it was nothing like “growing up today.” Back in the day, we had stationary phones and not so much surveillance cameras. So you can guess it was easier to get away with some stupid ideas, as they were executed. I don't envy all that stuff kids have now. They have to cope with a lot more control. And about growing up in Poland as a country? Hmm, I guess it's like growing up every elsewhere. Every country have it pros and cons. The important thing is “who you are, not where you grew up.”

KAVA:

I live in small town near Warsaw. Nothing to do. You need to support yourself or work in fabric -- or you can just drink and smoke. One day, I met some crazy guys and tried to do the band. Of course, it was more alcohol and fun in the beginning.

I'm curious about some of the things that have shaped you both as musicians and humans.

KRISS:

I guess we don't have time for like a biography here, so I'll make it simple. Life and music are all tied up in each other for me, in the little things that drive a person into doing it over and over again. You just try to stay busy with a lot of different things so that you don’t get caught up in boredom. I guess it’s the best way of sizing up both my life and my music.

KAVA:

I pay some heavy shit for the devil and, of course, some old girlfriends, old movies, Black Sabbath albums, and shitty albums, too.

What's the significance of your name, Weird Tales?

DIMA:

Come on, man. That would be too easy! Often people ask us, "Is it from H.P. Lovecraft?" No. Actually, I don’t know where it came from! I always write down some ideas and phrases that I like on a paper. I got a lot of notes strewn all over my apartment. I can’t find anything I need in this chaos, but sometimes find something better than I was looking for. So one of the phrases I happened upon in this mess was "Weird Tales" and it fit the best.

The other most frequent question we get: "Did you take your name from the Electric Wizard song called 'Weird Tales'?" To which I say: I don’t know and fuck you for those stupid questions. It doesn’t matter. I just found it on a little piece of paper in my house and was never interested in where it came from.

We had some songs ready and they were about surreal stuff when you can't distinguish real life from a bad trip. Those songs have an interesting structure, unusual riffs changes. Each one was different and the name Weird Tales was good from every point of view. Lyrically and musically, we like when a song has a plot, and in the future we will continue writing songs that tell strange stories about strange shit happening. Thus, Weird Tales. Ironically, our English is pretty sucky and we can’t even properly pronounce "Weird Tales." (laughs)

Not to ramble, but I'm curious about the difference stylistically between your first two EP's and the LP. The early stuff seems quite blithe and depressive, makes me feel like I do when I have "medicine head." The new stuff is another beast entirely, like someone who has just snapped out of a weeklong bender on rubies.

KRISS:

And that I guess is my fault -- not all, of course, but I like to think that I had some serious influence, especially on this one. Those first two EPs were recorded with another bassist. I was invited to a band just before they planned to record their first album. I've seen these guys perform like a lot times before and I saw something “special” about their music, something -- as I was constantly repeating when I met them after their gigs -- “that no one wants to do in their bands, but so interesting that it’s not supposed to be lost at any point.” So when we finally got together, I tried not to change “their way,” but to “commemorate” it and add as much power and passion into it as only I was able to do. And, of course, Dima is the first one who supposed to answer this question, because he is mostly responsible for those sick-minded sounds. (laughs) Nobody knows what he's got on his mind next, when comes to writing music.

DIMA:

You know, when you write music you don't think much about the kind of style you're going write, except you do not assume from the beginning that you want to write another stoner-doom album about witches. You don't want to be another one to vomit on the music map, just to show that you are represented in a theme. So I just write and play what I want now, which feels like a more natural process. I want to play these kind of sounds now, because it has its place to be here and now in that shape. Of course, it’s coming from life experience, as a way to share your emotions and feelings which have internal roots and act in response to external factors. I'm trying to share that shit in a metaphorical and allegorical way.

Weird Tales (EP) by Weird Tales

I fucking like your interpretation of our EPs and this stylistic difference between them and the LP. You got the point of the message. I like to read the opinions of people who have really found something in our music. Then I compare it to what's been sitting in my head -- stuff I couldn't wrap into words, so I made music to say it. (laughs) It's like reverse feedback to me. I can better understand myself, as a result.

I interpret the changes between our EPs and this album similarly to how you articulated it. It's like you are on acid and have a bad trip. When the bad trip is at its peak, your ego dies and you have this apathetic feeling -- the Weird Tales EP -- and when your bad trip starts to calm down, you have so much energy and feel so good that this shit is over. You understand that this experience will stay with you 'till you die, but for now you have returned to a planet that did you not hope for. So you starting having fun, drinking vodka, and sniffing speed 'till that psychedelic vibe smoothly slides away from you skin and is replaced with a pleasant fire. That is the feeling associated with Hell Services Cost A Lot for me. Sad songs played with a lot of fun.

And your second EP, 'Shiny Void'?

DIMA:

Oh, it’s similar to first one, but this time the bad trip is not coming unexpected. You involve it with full understanding of what will happen now, in order to dive into this madness, hoping to find something there.

Shiny Void (EP) by Weird Tales

What is the background of the new album and how does it fit with your overall evolution as a band?

DIMA:

Nothing special. Some old stories about doing drugs that leaves a trail on your mind, as every honorable man has done a time or two. Also, other mental issues that we probably should tell to psychiatrists, instead of a music journalist.

From musical composition side of things, it was really fun. After we finished our second EP, we already had drafts of a couple songs. The songwriting process was quick as ever. I brought riffs and ideas to a rehearsal and we jammed and quickly agreed with the way a track should go. Even uncommon ideas were quickly accepted by everyone.

We changed bassists while writing this album. Surprisingly, it didn’t slow down the process, because Kriss is a really good fit for Weird Tales. Also we tried to play with a second guitar, because we heard richer arrangements. We even did a tour together with an additional guitarist. But anyway, now we are a trio again. You can hear those second guitar arrangements on Hell Services Cost a Lot -- most of them I now playing alone. It complicates the process a little, but not critically. The most important thing that we three feel great together and have a lot of fun while playing loud and heavy. We share that energy while on stage with audience.

Walk us through each of the songs on the new album and please share anything you can about their meaning.

DIMA:

It’s simple. We've got six tracks about Satan and one about the sea. (laughs) Seriously, though, I’m glad you ask, because it’s a concept album. You absolutely can receive it as you like, it’s cool. But directly or indirectly, the album tells the story of one poor fool. And this guy is a crazy fuck! He definitely needs help, 'cause his mind is drooling without stopping. He has visions and hallucinations, bipolar all the way. And this guy feels that pain all the time. That kills him from deep inside, and the thing is that he doesn’t know is this pain real or not. But it doesn’t matter at all, 'cause he feels it burns him like fire. Of course, this guy has some problems with drugs.

"Nightmare" shows us that his troubles are deeper than it maybe seems. He is still being persecuted by the shit from childhood. He tries to escape from it and makes his own safe reality that certainly will collapse. So that crazy fuck is a poor fool who certainly needs help, though most of his troubles actually come from his own decisions. No...no. Actually, he crossed the line a long time ago. This fuck slays women behind the garbage bins. And in parks, too. Crushes those bitches all the time. Then he fucks their cold bodies -- or not? If you want, he could. So he does all those disgusting kills and slays for the Gods of Death. Making altars from the limbs and trying to find a blessing and freedom from his pain.

The surrealistic pressure in the album grows the most in "Warnings”. He doesn’t understand entirely what is going on. He's tunneled right through to the other side, seeking to fall even further.

On the last track, “Dead Man,” he's killed himself. Only good decisions for such scum like him. He drowned himself in water. And remember that it’s just six tracks about Satan and one about the sea.

No classic Milton or Dante references in your doom, I take it?

DIMA:

There are none. We think film and literature references just suck. And we actually have one track on our 2nd EP that has its lyrics based on a movie, so we suck. (laughs) But again, if seriously, it’s okay if you got some idea from a movie and interpret it in your own way. It’s applicable in art, but it sucks when you straight retell the plot of a movie or book.

Every song on Hell Services Cost a Lot could be taken in a few different ways. Everyone is god. You could receive every track separately or like a part of complex story. There are a couple of true stories about self-issues and shit from real life, mixed up with some fictional stories and told in a way that contain some thoughts, deep or not really. (laughs) We like when there is something more besides straight storytelling -- something that fucking voice in your head tells you to desire.

What's the strangest or darkly funny thing that you've witnessed while gigging?

KRISS:

There are a lot of things that happen at concerts and events. I don't even know where to start, so I’d rather tell you about what are, in my opinion, some of the funniest misconceptions about playing music live. Everybody that I know, who doesn't really have an idea about what it looks like to play concerts or to go touring, thinks it's like something out of a movie. You know, doing cocaine from groupies' asses in a big tour bus, chugging on a bottle of JD or vodka from morning 'till evermore. They don't know that it's like all waiting. You’re on your way to a place and you’re waiting in an overstuffed car. When you finally get there, you’re waiting for the sound engineer, waiting for your time to soundcheck, then waiting for the event to start, waiting for your turn to take the stage, etcetera, etcetera.

Concert Footage by Viktor Chaikovskyi

You can, of course, fill those time gaps with some buzz or other “stuff,” but not too much or it will ruin your show. And when you finish your gig, it's time to pack your stuff back up and more waiting ahead as you get on the road again. Maybe “bigger bands” would have more things to do, but at this point for me it's all waiting. (laughs) And as like-to-be-busy man like me, boring is the most dangerous thing 'cause a lot of stupid ideas come to my mind -- especially under influence.

KAVA:

Our merch table is very funny. You can get some fresh fish or vegetables! We have some new ideas for the shows, but it's secret and too crazy for now. (laughs)

You all seem to have a pretty irreverent attitude and dark sense humor.

KRISS:

Oh shit, you got me! (laughs) But take a look around. If anybody takes this world seriously, I really start to feel pity for him. If he's taking life dead seriously, it begins to even get scary. If you look from a good distance at all the stuff that happens around us, it looks ridiculous and doesn't seem to matter at all. A bunch of pretty primitive creatures jumping around, fighting for better resources to get more mating opportunities.

It's as basic as it's always been, but people seem to turn that basic lifestyle into an “all-meaningful soap opera.” As they try to cover their animal-based foundation, it getting funnier and funnier. It's not like I want to see people walking around like caveman-style dudes, but developing serious issues from “not getting enough attention on internet” or taking a loan to buy the newest version of a mobile phone? Man, that's sick. And I'm I don't even know where to begin with religion: just leave it. At some point in our lives, everybody dies and the point to it is supposed to be hanging the bar higher for those that come after us. With that said, let's not get caught up into it too seriously, I guess.

KAVA:

Yeah, people sometimes don't get it, especially when you talk about somebody's mother-sister wet dreams

Finally, what do you like to do for work and hobbies when you're not involved in Weird Tales?

KRISS:

I do a lot of stuff. I have to be busy all the time. Like all the time, man. Otherwise, I freefall into a black hole of nothingness and self-hatred for wasting “time given me on this earth.” So I draw, paint, cook, do handmade-DIY-style-stuff, and music above all of that. And somewhere on the bottom of the list, there is “work” to pay for all of those hobbies. I would like music to pay my bills eventually, but we're not living in a dream world. (laughs) Maybe someday.

KAVA:

All day I try to figure out rhythms for Dima’s new riffs and cook some fresh meat.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

#D&S Interview #Weird Tales #Warsaw #Poland #Doom #Sludge #Metal #Doom Metal #HeavyBest19 #Doomed & Stoned

[thekoshertribble]

“You’re no mystery to me. I know exactly who you are.” Women of Star Trek Blog Entry #12 “Space Seed” Marla McGivers

*rubs hands excitedly together* Oh boy, we’ve arrived. I’ve been thinking about writing this entry for a while now. This is gonna be a rough one, so buckle up people. This is will be another long post. As you’ve probably figured out by now, I’ll be discussing the main female character in this episode, Marla McGivers.

(content warnings: this entry will discuss abusive relationships both mental and physical in nature. Please proceed with caution.)

Before I crack this episode wide open, I want to relate it to my own life. When I was 15 I was involved in a very unhealthy relationship with an upperclassman at my school. While never becoming abusive, my “boyfriend” regarded me as a possession, and his aggressive tendencies towards others made me constantly afraid of him. I never said “no” to him, in fear of retaliation. This all ended many years ago, but I honestly haven’t been the same since. 

I went to therapy during the relationship and afterwards, and during one of my sessions I showed my therapist this episode.* She immediately understood why I was so drawn to this story. “Khan is [your boyfriend’s name]” she said, “and you’re Marla. I hadn’t realized that before, but she was right. For 10 very painful months, I was Marla.

Marla McGivers may be one of the most tragic characters of the Original Series. Even after it appears she redeems herself at the end of the episode, we learn in “Wrath of Khan” she pays for her mistake with her life years later.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, here. Let’s rewind to the beginning. 

Marla McGivers was a lieutenant on the Enterprise when it came across the Bontany Bay and it’s fateful cargo. She was the ship’s historian, apparently specializing in Earth’s history. We first see her in her quarters, working on a painting of a gladiator. (We don’t often see crewmembers engaged in hobbies, so it’s nice that we get this extra detail about her.) She’s quiet spoken, almost timid. It’s suggested that she doesn’t get much work on the ship, and that not many crewmen know her. When Kirk is talking with Spock and McCoy on the bridge, he says:

KIRK: I'll need somebody familiar with the late 20th-Century Earth. Here's a chance for that historian to do something for a change. What's her name? McIvers? 

So her lack of routine tasks and her timid nature probably makes her a rather forgettable and isolated figure on the Enterprise. (Spock remembers her name, of course, but he’s Spock - he probably has the whole ship’s roster memorized.) But now, she has an opportunity to apply her knowledge on a mission. Marla, Kirk, Scott and McCoy beam over to the Botany Bay. They find it’s full of humans in suspended animation, as Marla explains to the group:

MARLA: I've seen old photographs of this. Necessary because of the time involved in space travel until about the year 2018. It took years just to travel from one planet to another. 

Excuse me, Marla, but it’s November of 2018 and we still don’t have sleeper ships! Where are my goddamn sleeper ships Marla??

*clears throat* Sorry about that. Where was I? Oh, yes. So it finally seems that Marla can apply her knowledge on a mission...aaand then the shit hits the fan. One of the men in suspended animation is hot. And Marla gets, uh, distracted. 

KIRK: Could he be the leader? The leader. Lieutenant?

MARLA: (dragging herself back from just gazing at the man) Yes, sir. The leader was often set to revive first. 

They get the man out of cyro and bring him on the Enterprise to recuperate. Kirk is not exactly happy with Marla, and they have this conversation:

KIRK: If I were to rate your performance as a member of the landing party today I - MARLA: I know, sir. I'm sorry. KIRK: Lieutenant, at any one time, the safety of this entire vessel might depend upon the performance of a single crewman, and the fact that you find a man strangely compelling to you personally - MARLA: Not personally, Captain. Professionally. My profession is historian, and when I find a specimen from the past alive, I'm in the sheer delight of examining his mind. KIRK: And men were more adventuresome then. Bolder, more colorful. MARLA: Yes, sir, I think they were. KIRK: Good. If I can have honesty, it's easier to overlook mistakes. That's all.

It freaks me out that this conversation has not only foreshadowing but double and triple foreshadowing. It not only refers to Marla’s betrayal of the Enterprise, and then saving the Enterprise by betraying Khan, it also can be tied to Spock’s sacrifice in Wrath of Khan. Is your mind blown yet?

Apart from the foreshadowing, it’s an awkward conversation. Marla literally got distracted on her first mission, apparently because the guy they were rescuing was too hot. She tries to wave it off as professional fascination, but Kirk knows it’s not just that, and to her credit, she owns up to it. 

Marla reappears a few scenes later to meet the man they rescued from cryo, some dude who calls himself, “Khan.” She begins to introduce herself but he cuts her off. He already knows who she is. He asks her to “sit and entertain” him, as though she’s only there to amuse him. Determined, Marla sits and begins to question him:

MARLA: I'd like some historical information about your ship, its purpose and

KHAN: And why do you wear your hair in such an uncomplimentary fashion?

MARLA: It's comfortable.

KHAN: But it's not attractive. 

Khan stands, moves Marla to a nearby mirror and just starts pulling the pins out of her hair. “There. Soft. Natural. Simple,” he says, admiring his work as though he were a hairdresser. (If only he were that and not a dictator). Finally, Marla speaks up for herself:

MARLA: Mister Khan, I'm here on business.

KHAN: You find no pleasure here?

MARLA: My interest is scientific. Men of. That is, the world of the past. I'm sure you understand to actually talk to a man of your century - 

KHAN: There. Simple, soft. Please remember.

Marla’s subject is not being cooperative, nor does he seem to understand the concept of personal space. As she turns to leave, he grabs her arm and looks into her eyes:

MARLA: Perhaps some other time, when you feel more like talking about the past.

KHAN: I'm glad you came. Please do it again.

It’s...unsettling to watch this whole exchange. The average viewer might thing she’s starstruck by him, but I see fear in her eyes as well as awe. I think by this time she’s begun to realize just who he is - she can’t confirm it, but her intuition is guiding her. She has admired him and others like him across the safe distance of time, but now, the subject of her fascination is here before her, real and dangerous. This was something she never had to plan for. 

Following this encounter, we learn that Marla suggested inviting Khan to a dinner with the ship’s top officers. Perhaps she did this because she hoped that Kirk could get the answers out of Khan that she couldn’t. I don’t think she made the suggestion simply because she fell head-over-heels for him. It cannot be that simple. Before the dinner, Khan comes to Marla’s quarters, saying he wants her to escort him to dinner. He sees her paintings and compliments her on her technique and her choice of subject. 

The paintings double as a visual cue to the audience. It shows her hobby and her...interest: “old, brave, men of the past,” to borrow Khan’s description. Figures as Napoleon, Leif Ericson, and a gladiator named Flavius. It’s suggested that these men are not simply a “hobby” as Khan asks, teasing Marla. Khan then sees one of a turbaned man hidden under a cloth. He nods and simply reacts, “I am honored.” He holds Marla firmly in his arms, and adds, “but I caution you: such men dare take what they want.” He then kisses her, and we see Marla responding, pulling him deeper into the embrace.

We also see, as Khan indicates with satisfaction, that Marla rearranged her hair in the “natural” way khan had arranged it in sickbay. This and the kiss lead us to conclude that despite Khan’s dominating behavior toward her, Marla still feels some attraction to the 20th century dictator. 

The dinner Marla requested does not go well. Marla sits next to Khan, oddly saying nothing for the whole scene, while Kirk and Spock needle Khan into finally slipping and admitting that he and his fellows on the Botany Bay are in fact the ruthless genetically engineered humans who vanished in the 1990s. Khan is angered enough to leave the dinner early and retire to his quarters, where Marla finds him brooding. Keep and mind that she did not have to talk to him - she seeks him out because she feels the need to apologize for the actions of her superiors. 

MARLA: I wanted to apologize. They had no right to treat you that way.

KHAN: Quite understandable, since I'm something of a mystery to them.

MARLA: You're no mystery to me. I know exactly who you are.

KHAN: Do you? 

MARLA: Leif Ericson, Richard the Lion Heart, Napoleon. 

Marla says this last line with a little “gotcha” smile. Khan’s expression is one of slight surprise (even though he saw his portrait in her quarters earlier.) Then, Khan turns the tables and the fate of the Enterprise will be changed forever. Here is the conversation, with my notes:

MARLA: I don't know if you're going to like living in our time. 

KHAN: Then I'll have to remold it to my liking.

He reaches out to grab her suggestively, but she pushes him away.

MARLA: Please don't.

Angered by her sudden rejection, Khan pushes her away.

KHAN: Go. Or stay. But do it because it is what you wish to do. Well? 

Marla makes her fatal decision. 

MARLA: I'll stay a little longer. 

KHAN: How many minutes do you graciously offer?

MARLA: I only meant -

KHAN: This grows tiresome. You must now ask to stay.

MARLA: I'd like to stay. Please. 

Khan smiles in satisfaction and offers his hand to her. She takes it, and suddenly he is pushing her on her knees before him. She cannot escape his grasp. 

KHAN: Open your heart. Will you open your heart?

MARLA (her voice is small): Yes.

KHAN: I intend to take this ship. Do you agree?

MARLA: Oh, please don't ask me -

KHAN (squeezing harder on her hand) : I need your help.

MARLA: You won't harm anyone? 

KHAN (accusingly): Now you question me?

MARLA (fearfully): No!

KHAN: Will you assist me?

MARLA: Oh, please, Khan, don't ask me -

Khan throws her to the floor.

KHAN: Leave me then. Go, I say.

MARLA (whimpering): No. I promise. I'll do anything you ask.

(Khan smiles with cold-blooded satisfaction down on her as we cut to commercial). 

In a matter of moments, Marla has gone from confident and standing before her fantasy-made-reality to crying quietly at his feet. 

Let me pause the episode narrative for a moment to talk about the overall themes of this episode, since we’ve reached the major turning point. If you’ve seen this episode before, you probably remember the ending in which Khan alludes to Milton’s Paradise Lost, inferring that he is Satan cast into Hell, choosing to rule in Hell rather than serve in Heaven. We can actually expand this literary allusion to the whole episode. Khan of course is Satan, the snake in the garden of Eden, so what does that mean? Say it with me now: Marla is Eve, the Enterprise is Paradise (and Kirk is God, I guess?) Paradise Lost is a retelling of the Fall of Mankind - via the tempting of Eve by Satan - and the promise of Redemption by the sacrifice of Christ. Space Seed, similarly, is the story of Marla’s “corruption” by Khan, resulting in dire consequences for the Enterprise and her crew. And like Milton’s great epic, more than Eve’s repentance will save mankind. A greater sacrifice is required:

Anyway, so Khan and Marla work together to bring over Khan’s people from the Botany Bay, capture the Enterprise bridge and hold the crew hostage. By now, the crew know that Marla is working with Khan. Interestingly, Marla has apparently been given some authority by Khan over his people. We see this when one of Khan’s men begins to hit Lt. Uhura for not cooperating, and Marla loudly orders him to stop.

Marla then stands behind Uhura dominantly. She’s essentially become the “good cop” to Khan’s “bad cop.” 

And then we get to yet another turning point. When Khan threatens to suffocate Kirk in a sickbay decompression chamber to get the bridge crew to cooperate, Marla remembers the words of her dying captain:

Lieutenant, at any one time, the safety of this entire vessel might depend upon the performance of a single crewman.

She turns to Khan, and asks quietly but firmly, “Khan, there’s no reason I must watch this, is there?” This is the most assertive we see Marla. Something has suddenly changed. Khan nods, but remarks that he is disappointed, “I had hoped you would be stronger.” Marla leaves, apparently because she does not want to see her former commanding officer die slowly, and she heads down to sickbay, hides a hypo behind her back, and approaches the guard watching over the decompression chamber: “Khan said to watch him very closely. He may decide to co-operate.” The guard obeys, and as soon as he turns, she stabs the hypo into his neck. She frees Kirk from the decompression chamber, and immediately says: “Captain, I saved your life. Now please don't kill him.” Kirk frees Spock and successfully they regain command of his vessel. Yay! 

But wait...what about Khan and his people? and Marla?? Kirk tells Khan that a nearby uninhabited world is suitable for colonization and that he and his people will live there in exile. Marla, meanwhile is given a choice: court martial or exile with Khan. She chooses the latter. To be fair, it really isn’t much of a choice, between certain imprisonment or uncertain life on a planet. But it’s notable that Marla once again chooses Khan’s side, a choice that Khan admires: “a superior woman. I will take her.”

Sadly, going with Khan does indeed lead to her death by a Ceti Alpha eel some years later, causing Khan to go mad from grief and anger. And we all know what happens next...

Now, I do not mean to sound as though I am “blaming the victim” here. I do not mean to say that Marla got what she deserved or wanted, even though the events of the story revolve around her decisions. As you’ve probably realized, it isn’t that simple. Marla is a complex character - her motivations may seem clear but sometimes they’re clouded. Her behavior goes back and forth between assertive and submissive. Complicating all this is the abusive relationship she has with Khan. From personal experience, I know that when you’re in an unhealthy relationship, you don’t always find yourself standing up for yourself, even when your mind is screaming for you to. People ask you, “why didn’t you just leave?” If it were that simple, I would have left as soon as things went wrong. If it were that simple, Marla would not have apologized to Khan, or helped him take over the Enterprise, or travelled with him to Ceti Alpha V. 

I’m afraid I don’t really have any further insights into this character, so I’m going to end this blog entry here. However, if you have any thoughts on Marla and her motivations in this story, please share them in the comments. Maybe you saw something I missed? And of course, if you enjoyed it, please leave a like or reblog. See you next time, when I discuss: A Taste of Armageddon!

P.S. If you’re in an abusive or unhealthy relationship, please get help. It may feel as though no one knows you’re hurting but keep on reaching out until someone hears you. And please stay safe.

*My therapist had never seen Star Trek, and I wanted to show it to her to explain how it influenced me. We’ve both come to the conclusion that Star Trek very likely saved my life. It basically served as a coping system for a few years.

#women of star trek #star trek women #star trek original series #star trek tos #star trek the original series #space seed #khan #kirk #james t kirk #captain kirk #marla mcgivers #personal log #therapy #abusive relationships #wrath of khan #paradise lost #milton #uss enterprise #enterprise #ceti alpha five #ceti alpha eels #Star Trek Wrath of Khan #Star Trek II

[sailor-slam-dunk]

I guess it has been about 3 months.

Recently we passed the third-month anniversary of what I now dub, within my own headspace, Enzogate, and not a single goddamned thing is the slightest bit clearer than when we started.

Here’s a quick list of facts just because I wanna.

1. This past January, a young woman accused Eric (not using his ring name to avoid this popping up in searches) of raping her in a Phoenix, AZ hotel last August.

2. An investigation was launched against Eric a few days after the alleged occurrence. 

3. Eric, for reasons I won’t attempt to decipher, withheld the information from the WW* (again, searches) officials.

4. After the young woman went public on twitter with the accusations, Eric was suspended and shortly terminated from the company, ultimately due to point 3.

5. However, someone known as a former friend of the alleged victim offered up screenshots of text messages that, apparently, contradicted her claims, painting the encounter in an entirely consensual light. He also included an alternate explanation of what happened and why she made these accusations, which is too long to include here.

6. The victim acknowledged that these were actual texts that she had sent, but claimed that she was still intoxicated/in a poor headspace when typing them.

7. As I type this, the investigation is still officially underway.

In the meantime, Eric (who, of course, refuted all claims) had remained mostly silent, until this past week when he scrubbed clean his Instagram account save for one image saying something about privacy. Then, in the last day, he uploaded another cryptic image which I won’t include her, but included the caption “it’s been real” and tagged the WW* in the image. What this exactly means is unknown, but many surmise this may be his way of officially “retiring” from the ring.

If you know me at all, you’re probably aware of how painful these last few months have been for me, as someone who had been a huge fan of his. I have been keeping up with the rumors and updates almost non-stop, and somewhere in my mind, every day for the last few months, this scandal has been in my brain.

There have been some people who, because they heard rumors that Eric had been poorly-behaved backstage or were simply upset that he had been the champion of the division at the time, were immediately sure, or worse, hoping that he was guilty of the crime. Honestly, even if he is guilty: you’re a fucking asshole.

There’s the first thing I think. Some people do say they’re glad this happened just because of a personal dislike of the person, or even more frivolously, because they didn’t want him to be champion. This situation is not victory for anybody, because either:

A.) A man lost his career, likely lost several friends and was put through emotional/mental distress due to a crime he didn’t commit

or

B.) A woman was savagely raped in a hotel room.

There’s not a victory here.

Wrestling fans forgetting what human beings are, aside, I suppose that, these three months out, I can talk a little bit more about it. It’s been bubbling in my head long enough.

I still don’t know what happened or who is telling the truth. I obviously know what I would like to be real, but the alternative, as I just detailed, isn’t much more attractive. At any rate, I have been long training myself to accept that this chapter of Eric’s with the company is closed, possibly forever, though I’m not one to say “never”. This case is certainly unique in the company’s history, and there’s no telling how it may play out after the fact.

Back to this latest message of his. Eric feeling confident enough to begin posting again could speak volumes--either that he anticipates this investigation to be concluding soon enough, or that he’s massively arrogant. With no insight on his guilt, I can’t speak to either option.

If nothing else, it appears that he is at the very least saying goodbye to the company, definitively. 

Now, obviously, if he’s guilty I won’t have much sympathy.

However, many say that, due to his withholding of the information, they won’t have sympathy for him even if he’s not guilty. I disagree. Keep in mind, if he’s not guilty (and the following statements obviously wouldn’t apply if he’s guilty but this is written through a lens where he turns out innocent goddammit I know how you fuckers operate), I concede that not explaining he was under investigation right away is infinitely stupid, but people are often stupid under pressure, and when you throw a serious allegation into the mix--even if not guilty, it’s easy to see how one could be paranoid.

One doesn’t have to be a genius to understand how draining a criminal accusation can be, especially an accusation such as this--even moreso in the era of the internet, when information is spread and peoples’ opinions are crystalized on a matter in mere minutes. It’s a long, draining process that can cost you friends, family, much of your emotional/mental faculties, and a lot of sleep. If Eric’s really getting through it as well as the façade implies, that’s a feat alone.

If you’ve also been a wrestling fan for the last year or more, you’re also likely aware of a number of rumors that had circulated about Eric behaving badly backstage and in public. On principle, I remain completely skeptical about them, as I try to with all rumors. However, if taken together (not to play armchair psychologist), it’s possible Eric has been suffering from issues of his own in the last year or so. It can be hard to tell where it stems from, whether mental or just stress-based, but it may have been his position getting to him. 

Honestly, time away from spotlight could be good for him in the long run. Regardless of one’s opinion on the character he displayed in-ring (and, in some cases, out of it), Eric is still a human.

I’ve been wondering, all these months, how I would feel if it turned out this really was the last we saw of Eric in the ring, WW* or otherwise. Honestly, I don’t care. I don’t care if he comes back or not. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to after this. It’s been a long ride and, if he’s not guilty (again I cannot emphasize that enough), he deserves to rest and, hopefully, straighten himself out. He deserves to live a good life like anybody else.

#really long thoughts........ #tw: assault