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buggywiththefolkmagic · 1 year

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Personal Do Not Read Witchy Author List

There will be a google doc with updates as I find more authors to avoid. These are all my own personal opinion and I do take the author's actions into account when judging their ability to write legitimate information.

TW: Slavery, serial killers, racism, TERFs, creeps, neonazis, asylums, and a slew of other super unsavory things. I tried to make this list as PG as possible while highlighting the issues with these individual people.

*Alestier Crowley. *

He's a literal piece of garbage. Misogynistic, thief of a toooon of closed practices, has entire cults still dedicated to him, called himself a voice of God (both Abrahamic and apparently like 5 Egyptian deities??? I mean excuse me sir how about no??) He also declared himself ‘above’ Gods back in 1922 calling himself Ipssissimus. I hate Crowley so much I have literally stuck a picture of him to a dartboard before. He can suck an egg in the afterlife. He also put his own wife in an asylum for 'alcoholism’ because she wanted a divorce. The only thing he ever did right was get kicked down a flight of stairs at a temple once by a poet.

*Anastasia Greywolf*

Appropriates at least Jewish practices if not every Indigenous practice there is. Wholeheartedly encourages people to use magic instead of going to a doctor for things like oh I dunno EPILEPSY And claims she has spells for like Marvel-level super powers which uh no Ana. You don't. Lots of Christianity for a supposedly FULL pagan and wiccan author. Her spells are all controlled like...so wrong. So, so wrong. Don't ask please. I can't begin to describe it. Advocates for smudging and uses phrases like "Cherokee Rituals", and the Romani G-slur.

*Gerald Gardner*

Made his own branch of wicca, the first technically, and his own coven had to make rules just so he wouldn't spill everything to any reporter that asked. Used Crowley as a main resource.

*Jason Miller*

Claims to do Hoodoo. A horrible formatter, and generally super dismissive of being a rootworker and other potentially closed practices, has not been initiated. Has claimed that anyone can petition/pray to Papa Legba without initiation because "Vodou is a congregational religion/practice". From the Vodou and Haitian Vodou practitioners I have talked to that is VERY incorrect, it may be congregational but you still have to be involved in the community to be trusted with those practices because so much of it has been bastardized for media and racism purposes. He is also a student of Catherine Yronwode, who is another SUPER problematic figure in the Hoodoo/Rootwork community.

A link of his own words on culture appropriation which includes mild inaccuracy towards Indiginous Peoples and that they don’t ‘own’ certain practices when it’s very clear the wording of those practices DOES in fact come from those peoples. He’s fine with people being Yogis, or Shamans, or calling satchel spells mojo bags, and other such phrases and won’t correct people if they use such words out of context because “language changes”. Also says if someone within a practice says it’s closed to go to ANOTHER AND ANOTHER until you find someone willing to teach you??? That’s not how it works sir.

Source: https://www.strategicsorcery.net/on-cultural-misappropriation/

*Lisa Chamberlain*

Not an actual person. This is a ghost writer name for a bunch of garbage literally copy and pasted from wikipedia into books. I wish I was kidding.

*Lisa Leister/Lester/whatever other spelling she's used.*

Such a major TERF. Like JK Rowling level TERF. Claims magic comes from a womb so anybody that doesn't have one isn't a real witch. Like WTF lady.

*Raymond Buckland*

Where to start...uses the G-slur often. (His grandfather was romani so it blurs the line of blood quantum.) Very sexist and obsessed with the idea of a woman getting uh...undressed for rituals while men stay dressed and more things I cannot say ina PG space??? As magic?? VERY anti-minor and LGBTQA+. Toxic, just plain toxic. Can't do it. I have read his Blue Book and it's the least problematic thing he wrote. I'm alright with it.

*Silver Ravenwolf* WhOOO boy. So super anti-christian, which is fine and dandy...if you didn't claim to be in a lineage of braucherei/hexerei. Wiccan, like the type of wiccan that says no other witchcraft exists and yet has written folk magic books??? She really needs to make up her mind. Claims Satanists don't actually exist. Claims most Jewish powers worshiped "the Goddess" (whoever that is)??? Very cult-like language about "not telling friends and family about your new life/reality/experience/whatever". Also SO MUCH APPROPRIATION. SO SO MUCH. She also gets her history wrong, on a lot of basic information that most non-witches know about like say the Salem Witch Trials.

*Catherine Yronwode* Ooh man. So Catherine Yronwode’s career started as a comic book artist. She’s worked on such things like the Elvira comic, DNAgents, and a gaggle of super controversial trading cards which included the Kennedy Assasination, a serial killer collection, and the AIDS epidemic. Of which she was sued for using one half of the Hillside Stranglers duo in said killer trading cards without his permission, the judge sadly threw the case out because and this is a quote, “ If Bianchi had been using his face as a trademark when he was killing women, he would not have tried to hide it from the police.” There were two more from her comic days, but those aren’t super relevant besides the one that pushed the envelope of what sort of trading cards should be sold to children. On the magical side of things, I will be blunt here: As one of the ‘big bads’ of the Rootwork/Folk/Hoodoo community? I really REALLY dislike her. She has made numerous false claims about New Orleans/Haitian Vodou and that it’s only a very recent practice, non-religious, and slaves never used it because it didn’t exist yet??? History books and entire generations will disagree. An example would be this link of an open letter to her written by a New Orleans Voodoo practitioner and someone she wrote a whole article about: https://conjureart.blogspot.com/2013/10/open-letter-to-cat-yronwode-and-lucky.html

She owns a few different websites namely https://www.luckymojo.com/, has written numerous Hoodoo based books, and actively has accused numerous people who have asked her for sources and or disagreed with her of plagiarism and has slung more mud that you can shake a stick at.

She also praises a book on Marie Laveau and yet discredits herself by calling New Orleans Voodoo a new religion/neopractice??? She’s just confusing as all heck to me.

*Christian Day* This guy’s just a creep. One stuck in the early 2000s mall goth phase even though he’s over 50. He also appropriates Hoodoo and owns two Hoodoo shops as well as multiple other witch shops in Salem and recently New Orleans on the French Quarter (Which is pure tourist fodder and not a reflection of true New Orleans Voodoo/Vodun/Rootwork). He has also harassed ex-employees so badly it’s landed him in court. His book The Witch’s Book of the Dead also reads very much like a list of accomplishments rather than anything useful. All about his television spots and experiences doing that. (Did I mention he was in an episode of Ghost Adventures? Yes, that one with Zac Bagans??? And it did not make us witches look too great, honestly speaking.)

Sources for Harassment Claims: https://www.cbsnews.com/news/salem-witch-gets-protective-order-against-warlock/

https://www.wcvb.com/article/warlock-christian-day-ordered-to-stay-away-from-salem-witch/8228072

*Yvonne and Gavin Frost* I dunno how else to say this, I really don’t. These two? Pedophiles. Multiple writings of theirs included not-safe-for-work-or-children rituals that must include minors. Avoid. AVOID AVOID. AVOID ANYONE WHO USES THEM AS A RESOURCE! This should NOT be okay in any circle. They are VERY used within the Wicca religion so please be careful!!

*Orion Foxwood* Some of his information is very sound! I can’t fault him there. He does have a tendency to blend different traditions without actively TELLING you he’s blending them though. He’s and this is a direct quote, “He is a witch and Elder in Romano Celtic-Traditional Craft, High Priest in Alexandrian Wicca and teacher of the Faery Seership tradition. He is also the founding Elder of Foxwood Temple and a primary founder of the Alliance of the Old Religion, a national network of covens in his line that have united to preserve the ways of his Elders. He was the co-director of Moonridge, a center for metaphysical, Craft and Faery studies in Maryland” That’s an awful lot of traditions to juggle and not only write on but actively teach. He also performs conjure, which in of itself might not be an issue but Conjure usually blends into Hoodoo really quickly if one isn’t careful! A lot of the traditions he talks about from his family sound quite familiar, he’s clearly from Appalachia but his books on the subject blend in his other practices instead of keeping them separate.

*Starr Casas* She’s in the same category as Orion, only she doesn’t necessarily give her credentials to be teaching Hoodoo, and even wrote a whole book filled with Hoodoo love spells. She also co-owns a French Quarter Conjure Shop, which if you ask any practitioners from New Orleans...is catered to pure tourists and not a true example of the crafts from the area.

*Shawn Engel* I’m gonna be blunt here. More appropriation of the Jewish practices, Hoodoo, and other information that is just plain UPG without saying it’s UPG and encourages throwing hexes at political party members solo. I read The Power of Hex and had to put it down numerous times just to gather myself and not throw it away, I don’t know if it was tone or sheer level of appropriation...likely both.

*Kate Freuler* Of Blood and Bones is chock full of Hoodoo, full stop. Only acknowledges that something comes from Hoodoo once and also gets basic mythology information on the Deities she mentions wrong in some cases. Also a lot of the book seems to be UPG because the bibliography is super small for a 300 page book.

*Dorothy Morrison* I picked up Utterly Wicked once. A very odd book full of Hoodoo and Vodun spellwork and misinformation, the author is also Garderian Wiccan so even the writing of a book full of hexes is slightly...concerning compared to the Wiccan traditions and redes. Odd is the best I have to describe how I personally feel. I will say this again: Voodoo Dolls are not used to cause pain, stop bastardizing that single aspect of the practice. Thank you.

*Helena Blavatsky*

I dunno how else to say this either, her philosophy and occult knowledge, called Theosophy is a portion of what inspired Hitler. Pure unadulterated racism veiled in a ‘Atlantian Race Theory”. Horrible stuff, read for a class project once and felt disgusting.

*Christopher Penczak*Whoo boy. On the surface he seems alright, one of the first ‘male’ witches I had ever heard of except for Scott Cunningham. But the more you dig into his work the more inaccuracies and Christian bashing you see. For example: Christianty was the first patriarchal society. Uhm...I believe you’re kinda forgetting the men who ran Rome and Greece there sir. He also fully proposes the ‘burning times’ were like a ‘witch holocaust’. NO! NO IT WAS NOT. You can’t compare the hundreds of years and MAYBE a thousand-ish people dying to the millions that died in the short timespan the Holocaust was a thing. Fuck Christopher for that comparison and also for claiming it was a ‘burning time’ to begin with. (History says that most were hung...or tortured. Burning is a very small number of that list in general.

He makes a lot of sweeping statements and sees witchcraft as a religion and NOT a practice. He whitewashes, fully harps on the Wicca = witchcraft = religion thing and THEN hones in on the difference between “white and black” magic and how cursing is evil and yet highlights certain practices that actively practice...cursing...as they have for generations??? He (atleast) doesn’t demonize Satanism but does still backhand the idea anyway, that they CAN’T be witches because witches only ‘heal’. Cultural appropriation and fetishization of ‘Native’ practices while calling them primitive all in the same breath, I just can’t with this guy. I really can’t.

*Amy Blackthorn*

Owns a tea brand called ‘Blackthorn Hoodoo Blends’ she is white. When questioned by BIPOC individuals she complains and blocks them instead of explaining why she chose the name Hoodoo for just teas. TEA. She is also the author of Blackthorn’s Botanical Magic, Sacred Smoke (A book on smudging yikes on trikes), and Blackthorn’s Protection Magic.

Proof of blocking: https://thisblackwitch.com/2016/04/01/blackthorn-teas-whose-culture-is-it-anyways/

*Tarl Warwick *

Is more commonly known as Styxhexenhammer666 on youtube and other social media sites. Has written a pile and I mean a PILE of occult based books including ones on Hermetic magic, ritualistic magic, demons, solomon, folk plants and healing, Kabbalah, and many MANY more.

He makes no claim to being Jewish, and given his political wishy washiness, and multitude of controversies which includes claiming the Holocaust wasn’t ‘that many dead’, Charles Manson deserved release because he was ‘extremely innocent and didn’t kill anyone’, and fairly recently also wrote and published a book on Critical Race Theory and why it’s ‘garbage’. I can’t support him no matter how accurate some of his information may be (if any at all).

*Temperance Alden* This really pains me to say, Temperance in her Wheel of the Year book made a claim that birth control “stunted her magical abilities” because it affected her hormones…in OTHER words unless you are a perfectly hormone producing WOMAN you don’t have great magical power. AVOID. AVOID. AVOID. That is a slippery slope to claiming medication will harm you, not to mention how TERF-y it is AND completely disregards that magic is for well…everyone. Such a stupid gatekeep-y concept.

*Sarah Kate Istra/Dver*

Advocates for using ‘spirit animals’ regardless of Indigenous beliefs and concerns. Is also a known ally with the Piety Posse, a neo-nazi group of pagans who claim the term polytheist can only apply to them and if you aren’t a Hellenistic pagan…you aren’t pagan at all. They also advocate for animal sacrifices, blood tests to prove purity, and other horrible HORRIBLE stuff.

*Sannion/H. Jeremiah Lewis*

Obvious Neo-nazi, keeps images of swastikas on his personal blog, and not the ones that the nazis stole from, the nazi one. And super SUPER transphobic.

*Edward P. Butler*

Major persecution complex, spends half his twitter complaining about how monotheists are destroying…I dunno…everything? Also defends Krasskova quite heavily. Antisemetic as well.

*Galina Krasskova*

Hellenic pagans watch out. Defends the AFA. A ringleader of the Piety Posse. There’s a lot more horrific stuff about her and I won’t go into extreme details. But TW: Romanticizes SA with deities, human sacrifice, animal sacrifice. Compares debating to the holocaust, lots of victim blaming, gatekeeping, and screams folkish.

*Diana Cooper*

Racist. Hard stop. Also appropriates chakras. Has a weird belief that food controls skin color and that Africa will never be a good country because it’s the solar plexus of the universe…or something like that. I got 20 pages into the book and literally couldn’t go any farther. Did I mention this book was supposedly on dragons???

*Judika Iiles* So much appropriation, advocates for making altars and working with closed deities. Lots of incorrect information including dangerous spellwork like obsession spells. And one in particular that has roots in a racist stereotypes. Avoid please!

#witchblr #witchcraft #Authors to avoid #Will update in the future #If anyone has any questions about any of these please feel free to ask

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tepkunset · 21 days

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The more I think about Indigenous identity fraudsters, or pretendians, or whatever you want to call the phenomenon, the sadder I get. Because what they do is take advantage of the colonial damage done to our communities that has left legitimate ndns separated, and insert themselves into the cracks to a) take place where they do not belong and b) wedge legitimate ndns further apart. It's harder than ever for family to reconnect now, because these people have made it necessary to question if someone is lying or not, you know?

Additionally, it's really brought out blood quantum debates to a whole new level, and that just sucks. It sucks to talk about. It sucks to question if you're valid enough, to do the math on your family history and wonder if 50% or 25% or whatever is enough to deserve to be part of your community. Meanwhile fraudsters don't even give a fuck about that; they blissfully walk around without a care in the world. Because they don't really care about belonging, they only care about how they can personally benefit from calling themselves Indigenous.

Sorry. Just thought vomiting I guess.

#indigenous #pretendians

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wiisagi-maiingan · 11 months

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My aunt/cousin (mom's cousin) and her daughter are visiting today and talking a lot about being Ojibwe and I found out that she's also unenrolled because her mom enrolled her brother. . . but not her. And she remembers when the enrollment age was raised and her mom told her about it. . . a month or so after her birthday, when she was just barely too old.

And it sucks so fucking much that we're both in this boat and she's struggling because it feels like she and her daughters are being punished for her mom's decision and how someone at the enrollment offices lied to her about blood quantum requirements too when she visited the tribe

but it's also nice to know that I'm not alone in this. That other Natives, including my own family, are struggling with this too. And I've always felt so bad and entitled for describing enrollment exclusion as a punishment for Natives who assimilated out of safety or have shitty parents or are disconnected from their families and it's really validating to hear someone else describe it that way too.

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junejasprose-addict · 13 days

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I'm moving different

We smoking juju

She tried doing psionics on my ass, i snapped her silver cord in half and flossed with it. This shit ain't nothing to me man

where moving different man. where making this hapen

My money longer than act 6

I make more money in a week than crockercorp does in a year

Yesterday i killed someone over vriscourse

You wouldn't survive a day in my session. Just to challenge myself, I prototyped my kernel sprite with heroin laced garlic bread and the taxidermy wooly mammoth I keep in my trophy crypt. Every imp had the vengeful spirits of extinction in them, and their blood was poison. I felt alive

Kanaya thinks she's a rainbow drinker, but she's not him. I am!

I'm already him

I'm the ultimate him

I read all 8000 pages of himstuck

I'm a member of the himnight crew

I died in my quest coffin and ascended to him tier, and nothing changed, because ive always been him

We smoking that sburban jungle trickster mode post canon god tier build grist

That tentabulge got me feeling disappointed and inert

My hands can coexist with your crushed wind pipe you stupid bitch

I fought the homestuck, I put the clown down

I'm dracula. I'm 12 million years old. I'm thinking different. I made sburb. I programmed that shit, waited a few millenia, then put it on some random kids' computers, and now we're here. This was always the plan

I flipped a brick to the batterwitch hours before [s] collide, she was high off her ass when them kids beat the shit out of her. Now I have a whole new universe to fuck with

Got it all on camera, put live leak out of business

She sucked my meat AND my candy. I had a picnic on her ass

That green skeleton king put a tooth in me, I got quantum poisoning, so she fucked me in the back of my dead dad's 2007 Volkswagen beetle before my family reunion

I don't pull out, I sylladex the cum before it can reach her cruxite dowel

I alchemized a 1399 bottle of mead with a pound of crack, cost me more grist then there are stars in the milky way. When I woke up, I was naked and afraid

Hussie tried to kill me, they forgot that you can't fight the dracula

Bec noir whimpered when he saw my fangs, he knew his time was up

I did something wrong

Ultimate self? Fuck that, I killed every other version of myself in all of paradox space. Well, except for junedraculasprite^2, she was kinda chill

My balls smoother than doc scratch's head

This zaza got terezi loco

This Zaza got terezi sane

Junejasprose is all I think about

I fucked a horrorterror, worst mistake of my life. I had tentacles clogging up my sylladex, and I had several bricks at the bottom of my deck. Took 30 business days for me to get to that shit, money hemorrhaging more than my ass was

I showed up to the convention in my thief of blood god tier clothes, when a pack of eridan cosplayers made fun of my hairline. Now they're thralls in my basement, playing jump rope with each other's intestines

I snapped a horn off of some dude's skull and grafted it onto my own. Then we had a unicorn joust, and I skewered his stupid ass. Blue rained on me like I was Brad armstrong

Princes don't live in ships, they sleep in coffins. Only gills you'll have is the bite marks on your neck

This shit ain't nothing to me man

#homestuck #dracula flow

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starwrighter · 9 months

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I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter thirteen)

Gone with one issue on to the next, post haste! It was like this year was pelting him with problem after problem. Of course, a quantum destination would be the next space on his bingo card of disasters! Why wouldn’t it be?! If there’s one thing the universe would never give him it was a break. That nap was a curse! He made up for too much of the sleep he’d lost back home. Now, there was karma to pay for those extra few hours of sleep.

Granted, he felt better than yesterday, but was it worth the quantum detonation? Temptation says yes but logical thinking says no. Logical thinking also said nothing he could’ve done would’ve prevented the damage to the drive core. It would have already started to degrade from seawater pouring in before he even got there. It was nice to know this one thing wasn’t his fault, but it wouldn’t soothe the anxiety of knowing the Aurora was going to explode.

The damage a drive core from a ship the Aurora’s size could cause would be catastrophic. The radiation alone was a planet-ending event. Could he prevent this with his limited access to his powers? There were no blueprints for a radiation suit in his PDA and he doubts he could make one himself. Building what was essentially a hazmat divesuit strong enough to protect him from the lethal doses of radiation the aurora was dishing out wasn’t the same as building a table. Did he still have any kind of immunity to radiation?

Regardless, he’s a Fenton! He got irradiated for breakfast!

Swimming back to his base, Danny began pilfering through his storage. If he’s even going to try attempting to stop a quantum detonation, a seamoth would be helpful. Not only did it sound cool as hell, it’d make traversing through the waters a piece of cake! Only… The blueprints wasn’t there and data corruption was to blame. Cursing, Danny collapsed to the floor, scrolling desperately through all the blueprints over and over again. He’d regained the blueprint for the mobile vehicle bay, but there was no amount of tampering that’d give him the Seamoth. The mobile vehicle bay was useless without a vehicle!

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Danny decided this was the perfect time to check the radio. Any information concerning the rendevuos would be a life saver!

Swimming back to his pod, a cloud of rot spilled into the ocean. The foul odor of the remaining goo assaulted his nostrils. Nausea bubbled in his stomach, bile crawling up his throat. He crawled back into the pod. They say the smell of human decomposition was one the human body was hardwired to recognize and Danny could now say with confidence that rotting halfa was the same. Even if he’d been completely unaware of the lifepod’s contents the smell alone sent a shiver down his spine. It was easier to dissociate the pile of goo on the floor before it’d decomposed to this extent. Dried blood stained the floor any green that’d been there was gone without a trace.

This…This would be a gruesome site for whoever was going to collect the life pods after this was over. It’s a difficult scene for him to see for ancient's sake! It was funny to think that despite the horrid smell and blood, he’d rather have found something like this in Lifepod 3. Bodies, or at least more than a PDA entry to prove someone was here! He’d perfer finding blood and rot than have the dead be forgotten so easily. They’d died within the meager three hours Danny had been unconscious, and been torn into by local wildlife until nothing remained before anyone could respond to their distress signal.

Tearing his eyes away from the puddle, Danny sucked in a deep breath, regretting it instantly as putrid air filled his lungs. His PDA screamed, biohazard warnings taking over the screen, begging him to leave. With a shake of his head, Danny covered his nose with his hand toddling towards the radio. The device was flashing and Danny couldn’t hit a play button harder than he had today.

“Playing pre-recorded distress call…” Waiting on his tippy toes Danny stared at the device with hope-filled eyes as a human voice sounded through the pod.

“This is Ozzy from the cafeteria. What the hell guys?! They didn’t warn us this might happen!” Danny’s heart sank as the message continued.

“Our pod was almost crushed by the seamoth bay on the way down, now we’re hanging on the edge of a cave system and this grim-looking snake thing’s trying to eat through the hull! Come get us already!”

Saying that didn’t sound good would’ve been an understatement. How many hours had it been since this message was sent? A grim-looking snake thing? He has someone like that outside. Chances were they weren’t talking about the same snake thing.

Dami has a snake-like body, but he resembles more of a dragon or a sea serpent…Dami hadn’t even made an attempt to hurt Danny or his little base. Sure, he scratched the glass but Danny had a feeling those claws were capable of much worse. Trust was a strong word to use when talking about a giant sea monster but Danny was confident Dami wouldn’t freak out and try to kill him for no reason.

All he’d done since seeing him was give reason after reason to kill him! Honestly, Dami just seems confused by his existence, but to be fair Danny is too. Logically he should be permanently dead, erased from every plane of existence but something gave him a third chance at life. Now he’s everyone’s problem!

Updating the signal to his PDA Danny crawled back out the lifepod, a signal to follow and materials to gather.

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

#Idk how Danny's going to fit in the seamoth #subnautica au #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp

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wh1skyd1ck · 3 months

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I wrote this after I heard about Aaron Bushnell's protest just so I could get it out of my head. It may not be important or do him justice, but it's all I have.

I went outside to burn some carboard tonight, because my house generates so much trash that we need to save our garbage bags.

I had three large cardboard boxes, each stuffed with more, smaller boxes.

Each in turn filled with balled and shredded papers, popcorn bags, wads of packing tape, and the evidence of a million useless creature comforts bought and consumed.

I set the fire with a gas station lighter and the flames climbed.

In the red cast light, I considered the news that was weighing on my mind, the state of a country far away and far divested from my own.

I considered a protest, performed by a uniformed soldier almost eight years my junior, that had seared itself into my memory.

As the flame found it’s purchase up and across the pile, I wondered what it was like to give into such a desperate rhetoric as what he believed.

I stood as close to the fire as I dared, the heat penetrating my clothes and raking my nerves.

I closed my watering eyes and dared to inch nearer, the discomfort waxing into pain.

What must he have felt like, to be the source of the fire instead of just it’s witness?

What does it feel like for your blood to boil beneath your skin, for the breath in your lungs to be sucked out by insatiable heat, the feel your clothes join your skin before both cease to exist?

I took only one step more, wincing as tears streamed from my eyes, before I found my limit. I practically fell back, coughing and blinking the byproduct of cremating waste from my vision.

I looked at the fire, and thought about how wild and mindless my last moment was before instinct drove me backward. How could he have endured such a thing until his consciousness ceased, still attempting to scream “Free Palestine” until collapsing?

How did keep his sanity through the pain of being reduced to cinders, atom by atom, second by creeping second, when I couldn’t last a fraction of a moment.

I watched the fire die down. Time lost relevance as I was lost in thought, but it was more than five minutes before all that was left was ashes. I pray that he stopped feeling it once he fell down. He burned nearly as long, after all.

I walked back to my house, where my wife had just prepped me a meal that was sent to our house in another big cardboard box, where my daughter ripped open the wrapping paper of an early birthday present, where I produce my burnable waste in a quantum state between lower-middle-class and extravagance.

And I’ve never felt like a bigger coward.

#aaron bushnell #free gaza #free Palestine

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litcityblues · 5 months

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Farscape, Season 1: Very Late To This Party

Farscape is one of those shows that has floated in and out of my general consciousness over the years, but I've never actually sat down and watched it. I've started it a couple of times, but like a few shows out there (Parks & Rec, and The Office both fit this category for me) it took me a few tries to actually dig into the show and really get a season under my belt.

Having finished the first season, let me just say this: I get it. I get it now.

My first impressions of this show, were sort of so-so, to me. The first couple of episodes are pretty good. Human, experimental spacecraft, gets sucked through a wormhole into another galaxy. He gets picked up by a crew of escaped prisoners and joins them on the lam after he accidentally kills one of the local law enforcers (the Peacekeepers, as we come to find out.)

As a basic premise, it's pretty good. Sort of Quantum Leap meets Star Trek with a touch of Doctor Who and a few other sci-fi shows thrown in for good measure. The early delivery, however... Maybe it's because I watched too many episodes of Andromeda when I was younger but this feels a lot like that show blended with Stargate SG-1 (in their 'planet/monster of the week' type of episode- not the longer arcs, which are genuinely good.) So I wasn't sure if I was going to really dig in on this show. It was okay.

But then, episode ten comes along. 'They've Got A Secret' turns out to be a game-changer for this first season, because when their ship, Moya seemingly turns against them, the crew has to spend most of the episode figuring out why, and then they do: she's pregnant.

That got my attention. A sentient ship is an interesting enough idea, but one that can get pregnant? I'm in.

The rest of the season gets much stronger from there as we learn more and more about the characters on the ship what got them put in prison in the first place and what they're doing to escape their pasts. Zhaan (Virginia Hey) gets a nice moment with 'Rhapsody In Blue', 'Durka Returns' and sees Rygel (voiced by Jonathan Hardy) confront his interrogator/torturer, and a new shipmate named Chiana comes aboard. We learn more about D'Argo (Anthony Simcoe) and the quest to reunite with his son in ''Til The Blood Runs Clear' and 'The Flax'. (The ship, Moya is piloted by a creature known, funnily enough as Pilot (voiced by Lani Tupu)-- who is grafted into the ship's nervous system and essentially the voice of Moya to the rest of the crew.)

Aeryn Sun (Claudia Black), the ex-Peacekeeper forced to join the crew, and Crichton (Ben Browder), the astronaut sucked through the wormhole are sort of the core characters- so their arcs sort of run on and off throughout the first season. I do like that they're not in any hurry to put Aeryn and Crichton together- even though there's some romantic tension between them that's pretty obvious. (Even though I haven't seen the show, I've read enough about pop culture/sci-fi shows over the years to have learned that they do, in fact, end up together.)

The first season ends on a nice cliffhanger with a new big bad established- Scorpius (Wayne Pygram) and the old one, Crais (Lani Tupu), actually defecting to their side- even if does wind up double-crossing them and forcing Moya to flee, while D'Argo and Crichton are left floating in space with only Aeryn Sun to save them.

If you dig a little bit into this show, there are a lot of interesting things that jump out at you. First, Wikipedia calls it 'an Australian-American science fiction television series' which was originally produced for Australian TV before it was picked up by the Sci-Fi Channel to be part of their Sci-Fi Friday lineup (hey, does everyone remember when the Sci-Fi Channel used to have sci-fi shows on it? It's almost like remembering when MTV used to show actual music videos and not 1,345,344 episodes of Ridiculousness over and over again.) As a result of this, the majority of the cast is either Australian or New Zealander with Ben Browder being the sole American amongst the cast- so that kind of makes it unusual.

The second thing is that The Jim Henson Company is one of the producers-- so they're responsible for the various alien make-up and prosthetics you see, but two of the main characters- Rygel and Pilot are animatronic puppets that are entirely Creature Shop creations. I'm sure it was a minor deal at the time because animatronic anything is cool-- but these days, when even Yoda has become CGI, I really appreciate practical effects and both Rygel (who farts helium when he gets nervous) and Pilot are great additions to the show. Rygel is more mobile than Pilot, but you also don't see many moments of weirdness/fourth wall breaking like you do with Muppets who have to suddenly jump up or show all of their limbs or something like that. It's really well done.

Overall: I am very, very late to this particular party and I have to acknowledge the slow start, but by season's end, Farscape had convinced me: I'm on board for the rest of this ride. My Grade: *** out of ****.

#farscape #season 1 #late to the party

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angel-eyes05 · 1 year

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i remember his hands - chapter 2

PAIRING: kang the conqueror x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after a scientific experiment goes horribly wrong, you've been transported to the quantum realm and have been stuck there for the past decade. with no company, aside from janet van dyne, your life changes forever when a mysterious man in a golden ship crash lands next to your settlement. startled with his initial presence, you two have a rocky start. but as time goes on, you two find each other slowly drawn to one another. you have secrets though, and he has a past he refuses to bring up. can you two make it through navigating an unknown world together, discovering any ulterior motives, and stand the test of time in a place where time has no meaning at all?

INFO: slow romantic burn, pretty fast sexual burn, kinda enemies to lovers????, takes place during that little flashback janet has during quantumania, idk how accurate this is gonna be to canon stuff cause i get very confused about the quantum realm lol, reader is in mid to late 20s while kang is in his “early 30s” (ik he like technically doesn't age or whatever idk the lore but i just made it accurate to jonathan majors age and wanted to give an accurate age range/gap/count), y/n will be very fleshed out like i'm gonna give her everything lol

WARNING: bl00d mention, explicit language (both swearing and ig sexually)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 2.9k

NOTES: i just now realized the summary said y/k this whole time instead of y/n, i knew something looked off lmao 😭 just ignore that lol. also if you guys want me to make a taglist, just lmk in the comments and if you want me to tag you or not

PREVIOUS PART

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To your surprise, you opened your eyes to find yourself alive in your bed. Your head throbbed in a sharp, piercing pain. You looked into the mirror that sat in front of your bed to examine your facial injuries. You had a bandage wrapped around the right side of your head. As you went to touch the place where the rock was smashed into, you winced from the pain as it shot into your head. It wasn’t as deep of an injury as you thought it would be, but it wasn’t doing you much good either. You also noticed a bruise on your left upper cheekbone, very quickly growing into a black eye. You assumed it was from when the man tackled you into the creek. You moved down to your throat area to find two dark purple bruises on the front side of your neck. Other than those injuries and a couple of scratches on your arms and knees, you figured you were in better shape than your attacker. You wondered what ended up happening to him. If you were here alive, it meant he probably survived too. Left out there, he was probably finished off by roaming mites. Either way, it wasn’t your problem anymore.

You hear a knock at the door. “Come in”, you struggle to get out, a spiky pain going down your throat after you the words escape your mouth. Janet opens the door and walks over to your bed with a glass of water and some more bandages. “Yeah that sounds as bad as I thought it would be. Whoever caused those neck bruises was really trying to kill you”, she replied, sitting down next to you on the edge of the bed. “Really? I thought the bloody dent in my head would be more of a giveaway”, you sarcastically reply in pain. You got a small chuckle out of her. “Even a near death experience couldn’t take away your wonderful sense of humor”, she jokingly replied. You smiled at her remark. Janet went to unravel the bandage on your head. You grimaced as she tried to rip off the parts that were dried on by the blood. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine”, she said after noticing the expression on your face. “You’re a tough girl. One of the strongest people I’ve met.” A slight smile crept onto your face. She dipped a cloth into the bowl of water, then started to dab it onto the wound. As much as the process of getting to it sucked, you enjoyed moments like these with Janet. You know, even though finding you out there bleeding out from your head probably almost scared her to death, that she enjoyed them too. You took a sip of water from the glass she gave you, which improved your throat pain significantly. Once she finished cleaning your head, she wrapped another bandage around the wound. “Alright, I’m fixing up some breakfast for you in the kitchen. If you need anything, just ring this.” She placed a little bell on your nightstand as she gathered her stuff to leave.

After failed attempts to fall back asleep, you decided to head out to the kitchen to help Janet. You gently placed your legs over the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. You slightly limped over to the mirror to assess yourself again. Your head looked slightly better with the change in bandages, but the bruise on your cheekbone had now fully turned into a black eye. You winced as you placed your fingers on the swollen area around the bone. The bruises on your neck had stayed about the same size as the last time you saw them. You rolled up your pant legs to find two bandaged gashes on your right knee, most likely from the tackle as well. You slowly turned and hobbled towards the door to walk into the kitchen. You made your way across the hallway of the cabin into the kitchen and living room (it was more of just a little kitchenette with a couch in it). You rubbed your eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting of the room. As you opened your eyes again, you could hardly believe what you saw going on by the couch.

Janet was kneeling on the floor next to couch, tending to the same man who tried to kill you. She was cleaning up a cut he had on his left tricep, as he laid there shirtless on the couch. Your heart sunk as your eyes laid on him. He was still unconscious, but the thought of your attempted killer being in the the same house as you made you nauseous with fear. “Janet!” you whisper yelled at her, half from the fear of waking him up and half from the pain still in your throat. She didn’t turn around. You yelled again. She rolled her eyes as she finished changing the bandage and walked over to you. “What is he doing here?” you asked like she was insane. “I couldn’t just leave him there to become mite food y/n”, she truthfully replied. “Uh, yes. Yes, you very well could have. You are aware of the fact that he almost killed me, right?” you asked, still concerned the situation wasn’t getting through to her. “Yes I am, and that’s exactly why I brought him here.” All you could do in response to hearing her say that was nervously laugh. “Listen to me y/n, I’ve been here for much longer than you have. So I know for a fact that when people arrive here, it’s either from some extremely fucked up accident, or for a very important purpose. I believe he’s here due to the latter. We need to keep him alive to find out that purpose, alright?” she snapped at you. You hadn’t seen this side of her much, so whenever you did, you knew she meant it. You nodded in response. “Alright” she said as she took a deep breath “Now help me with breakfast.”

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He could see the bright white lights seeping in from his eyelids as he slowly opened his eyes. As he regained consciousness, he immediately felt shooting pains in his shoulder, abdomen, and foot. His groaning caught Janet’s attention as she walked over to where he was with damp cloth. He tried to move back slightly, but if he moved any more, the pain would get worse or he would probably fall off the couch, which was definitely too small for him to lay horizontally on it. Janet looked at him for a consenting look before taking the cloth to the right of his abdomen. He hesitantly nodded. He groaned through the stinging pain of the water mixing with the bloody wound. “I’m surprised you were still alive by the time I got you inside. This one right here should’ve had you dead within the first three minutes of getting bit” Janet said to break the silence. “W…Where am I?” he asked tiredly. “My cabin. I’ll tell you the rest of it when you’re awake enough to pay attention to what I’m telling you.” Janet placed her hands on his back once she noticed he was trying to sit up. He cried out in pain through his teeth as he tried to sit normally. “Woah, woah, woah, I don’t think you’re ready for that yet”, Janet said concerned. “No time”, he said between short breaths. “Need to get back to the sh-.”

He cut himself off when he saw you standing by the kitchen counter, your back to him and you head lowered. He kept his eyes on you for a bit and examined your frame, trying to understand how someone as small as you could reduce him to this. You could feel his eyes on you, like a laser burning into your back. The longer the moment went on, the more you wanted to take the knife nearest to you and finish the job you started. After what felt like hours, he finally turned his face back to Janet. Being able to tell what he was going to say next, she said “She lives here with me. And before you ask, no she isn’t going anywhere. And until you fully heal, you aren’t leaving either.” Janet turned to face both of you. “And until that time happens, I need you two to try to not kill each other. Alright?” You reluctantly nodded your head. He did the same. “Ok good.” Janet finished with his abdomen wound and walked over to you in the kitchen. “I’m going into town for a bit to get some more medical supplies, so I’m going to need you to finish with his shoulder and foot” she told you, already noticing the horrified look creeping onto your face. Your heart sunk and your eyes widened hearing her say that. “Janet, no, there’s no way. You leave me here alone and there is no doubt he’ll kill me” you whispered quite enough so he wouldn’t hear. Janet pulled you outside with her to talk. “Listen, I know you don’t trust him and I don’t entirely either, but have you seen him? It would take a miracle for him to get up right now and charge at you again. Plus, I need you to try to get information on him while I’m gone, ok?” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Ok.” “Thank you.” Janet gave you a little peck on your forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” She started walking off into the distance. With Janet’s good luck kiss, you turned to the door to walk inside. As you went to turn the doorknob, you noticed your hand slightly shaking. You took one last deep breath to calm yourself before walking inside.

You walked inside, determined not to make eye contact with him the entire time. Once you got to the kitchen counter, you could already feel his eyes on you again. You could’ve sworn he had some kind of laser eye power, because you could feel yourself getting hotter with each passing second. It was almost paralyzing how it made you feel. “Could you stop that please?” you finally said, hoarsely. You heard a slight chuckle from him. “Sounds like I did a number on you after all. Not good enough though, since you’re still walking” he replied in a rich, slightly menacing tone. It was enough to send a slight shiver down your spine. You could hardly believe Janet trusted him enough to not kill you. You took yet another deep breath, and grabbed the bowl of water, a sewing needle and thread, a roll of bandages, and a damp cloth. You still avoided eye contact, but out of your peripherals, you could see he was still staring at you. What you couldn’t tell though, was if he was slightly smirking or not.

You placed the bowl down on the ground and you sat right in front of his foot. You reached to unravel the bandage wrapping his left foot, but he moved it away. You sighed. You knew exactly what he was doing. Giving in to what he wanted, you finally make eye contact with him. His eyes were just as sharp and full of anger as they were when he first punched you in the chest. “Please don’t move. This will be easier for both of us if you stay still”, you say to break the tension. You go back to his foot to unwrap it, but he moves it yet again. You huffed to yourself and turned back to him. “Listen, I know you’re upset with me over the arrow, and I’m sorry. My intention wasn’t to hit you. But I have every right to be mad at you as well. Now I know you don’t want me here, but I hate to break it to you, you’re stuck with me until Janet gets back. Now can you please hold your foot in place so I can take off this god damn bandage!” you yelled as loud as your injured throat let you. You must have turned red or something because you noticed a smirk slightly tug on his lips. He moved his foot in front of you. “Thank you”, you remark, turning away from him again.

You unravel the bandage to find Janet already stitched up the wound on his foot. That made things easier for you at least. You took the damp towel and dabbed it on the wound. You couldn’t believe you were here, cleaning the wounds of the same man who just tried to kill you. Apparently he couldn’t believe it either, since his eyes were still locked onto you. You finished applying the water and wrapped his foot back up. You moved over to his shoulder next. You were much closer to him now, forcing you to have to take looks at him. It was the same expression every time though. Anger, mixed with annoyance, mixed with a hint of fascination. You unraveled this bandage. This was the one Janet hadn’t gotten to yet. You figured this would give you a chance to redeem yourself though, fixing up the wound you gave him. You kneeled in front of his shoulder with the threaded needle and stuck it into the wound. As soon as you put it in, the man clenched his teeth and groaned in pain. He wiped his face with his hands in anguish.

You pulled the needle through the skin, and at some point you must have hit a specific spot, because his hand shot down and took hold of your thigh to hold as leverage. Butterflies flooded into your stomach as he squeezed your thigh with every pull of the needle and thread. You looked down and took notice of his hand once again. Noticing how big it was, how tense it would get, and whether he did it with intention or not, how he would occasionally trace his thumb across you clothed skin. Once previously around your throat, now seizing your thigh and tightening its grip with every movement of the needle. You felt your cheeks getting brighter with each tighten. Part of you thought he was doing this to fuck with you, but the looks you saw on his face proved you otherwise.

Being this close allowed you to take notice of all his facial features now. From his plump lips, to the two identical scars running down his face. You knew they had to have some sort of story behind them, but you decided to ask another time. You were unable to reach a certain spot on the inner part of his shoulder, so you sat up slightly to move more into him to reach it. This is when it hit you how close you two were. Feeling his hot breaths on your cheek, hearing his slight moans and groans of pain, and now with the movement of his hand from on top of your thigh to your sensitive inner thigh. You were embarrassed to admit the combination of everything made you slightly wet. You had to use your spare hand to push two pieces of his skin together that were too far apart for the needle to get in naturally. As you pushed, he moved his right hand to grab yours. Now that it was touching your bare skin, you could fully appreciate the feel of his skin on yours. You felt how rough it was as the calluses on his hands slightly scratched against your knuckles.

You finished up and closed the wound and started dabbing it with the damp towel with the same hand that was holding the needle. He still hadn’t moved either of his hands, his moans and groans now turned into short pants. You sat there for a second, embarrassed with how comfortable you suddenly were with him. Part of that embarrassment also went towards how wet his hand being on your upper inner thigh made you. “Are you ok?” you asked, having to say something in fear of what you would do if you just stayed like this. He nodded slightly. He opened his eyes after having them shut from the pain and looked into yours again. Only this time, they weren’t filled with anger. You couldn’t tell what look this one was. Maybe weakness from his pain. Maybe wonder. Maybe…. After clearing his throat, he finally took his hand off of yours. Then, almost as if he were teasing you at this point, he dragged his hand off your inner thigh agonizingly slow, finger by finger. Cheeks flushed and stifling the noise you felt building up in your throat, you grabbed your materials and moved them over to the kitchen counter and made your way back to your room without saying another word. “Wait”, you heard him call out. You popped your head out from behind the hallway corner and stood there waiting for what he was going to say.

“What’s your name” he asked softly.

“Y/N” you hesitantly answered.

“...I’m sorry for earlier y/n.”

“I’m sorry too…” you signaled to him for his name.

“Kang.”

“I hope you heal well, Kang.”

“You too.”

You walked back over to your room, using whatever self control you had to stifle any feeling that might have been awoken in those moments.

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NEXT PART

A/N: dude i dont think you understand how much i enjoyed writing that HJFHJF. there will be more to come soon dw. but i hope you enjoyed this chapter (this took up 9 google doc pages lmao) since shit actually happened lmao. as regarding whenever chapter 3 comes out, it might take a little while since the ideas for the preview-chapter 2 came to me super quick, im still thinking about what direction chapter 3 will take. It shouldn’t take any longer than a week, but please just be patient. thank you for reading!

#i remember his hands #kang the conqueror x reader #kang x reader #kang the conqueror #ant man #quantumania #fem!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu phase 5 #marvel mcu

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butchmartyr · 2 months

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reasons i also dont mention being mixed, at all, ever. if i ever have the ‘wrong’ opinion someone inevitably is just going to say im white and because opinions are like assholes (everyone has em) im also inevitably bound to have a ‘wrong’ opinion, so i just dont. keeping my head down. but also depriving myself of community interaction bc i feel like it isnt my place to. ah, the things race discourse (& not referring solely to the internet in this either, since blood quantum & stolen children were invented & implemented long before) has done to people who had the audacity to… *checks notes* be fucking born!

sorry for the long ask - just a bit of 🤝 solidarity in that. its isolating & i wanted to let u know ur not alone. it kinda sucks sometimes (and no really, horribly transmisogynistic and sexually harassing anon. i wonder why it sucks. did you, perhaps, use race as a weapon meant to disarm)

🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝 it’s hilariously, wildly, deeply unfair, and we HAVE to recognize it as such and stop taking this: “all poc have the Right Opinions, which I happen to have all of, perfectly, and anyone who could disagree with any of them even in part is actually just a devious Liar” bullshit seriously, so transparently garbage, useless idpol that does nothing but make talking about actual internalized racism & other bigotries harder, but for the liberal who thinks he’s radical I guess it’s just too comforting having an essentialist conception of morality like that

and re: your second ask, yeah, it’s miserable. most people on tumblr are pretty dogshit at actually caring about oppressed groups they’re not a part of and trying not to contribute to their oppression, but this is a really truly stunning example. well, maybe not stunning for spaceboytoi given the whole wh40k fandomite thing, which I now cannot imagine she is media-literate enough to understand all the reactionary shit in, but nonetheless. the majority always cares more about sounding right and moral than trying to continually improve oneself. maybe one day we can move past only caring about minorities enough to tokenize their issues as weapons against those that irritate you but evidently we’re not there yet

#wasn’t sure if you wanted this private or not I can delete if u want #asks

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mueritos · 1 year

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Being Mexican doesn't automatically make someone Indigenous. You have to actually come from Indigenous groups within Mexico, or else it really is just mixed/Spanish genealogy.

Did anyone ever tell u that being de-tribalized IS an indigenous experience. You are hilariously sucking on blood quantum rules. There are millions of indigenous people who have much larger % of indiginiety than myself who are also deconnected from their tribe and culture. I know other indigenous mexicans who “look” more indigenous than I do and they practice NONE of their culture because they’re just as detribalized as I am. Stupid head lmfao

#muertoresponds #also i literally do come from indigenous groups from mexican why tf do u think i am half mexican indigenous dumbass #we suspect it can be a tribe from michaocan but again no fucking records because of colonization dumbass

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cassieuncaged · 5 months

Text

Wrapped in Plastic

A Laura Palmer Character Study

TW: drug use, prostitution, murder, death, tobacco language, etc.

WC: 1.3 K

A/N: Another I forgot to cross post from AO3. Also, Laura is 18 in this fic.

Taglist: @roofgeese, @spacestephh, @voidika, @huepazu, @quantum-lover, @chadillacboseman

AO3 Link

She was a bad influence, everyone thought so. The homecoming queen was the opposite of what that pristine picture had suggested. She’d been doped up when the photographer snapped that picture, doing a bump with Bobby in the woods before the dance.

Laying sprawled across the green sofa, Laura was entranced by the plaster ceiling. Off white, a rosy pink. Like a pinprick of blood tainting crisp water: just enough to make it dirty and undrinkable. If she were a lake, the waters would run dark burgundy. How toxic could one person be?

Sucking on a cigarette, Donna sat cross legged on the carpet. Every little puff was accentuated with a wheezing cough. Accusing eyes rolled in the periphery, sharp blue addressing her innocent friend.

“You don’t have to smoke, y’ know?” Annoyance seep into a lazy voice. Everything Laura did, Donna tried. The girl was a damn mynah bird. Then again, Laura had always been the popular trailblazer. The other was a bookworm, with those mousy curls and oversized sweaters. Donna wasn’t a risk taker; her best friend’s mere presence felt like a high in comparison.

“I know,” stifling another cough, she attempted to swallow the smoke which only worsened the situation. “My fingers smell like tobacco.”

“That’ll happen,” sinking into the sofa, she tried not to think about her mother complaining about the lingering smell. Pure hypocrisy since Sarah smoked like a chimney herself. Eyes sought the ceiling again, following a hairline crack. The façade was beginning to break and chip.

It was bound to collapse and crush her in the debris.

......

Tears rolled down ruddy cheeks. A blonde reflection shuddered in the floor length mirror, all but completely exposed in a black and red corset. The garment was stitched with ribbons emblazoned with maroon spades.

Other clients were waiting and Blackie had a temper with her girls. Leave a man waiting too long normally meant the paddle or hands wrapped your throat. Instead, she silently suffered the embarrassment and shame long after Ben Horne had sauntered out of the room.

She’d see Audrey in homeroom tomorrow, innocent doe eyes warm and blissfully unaware. This was Laura’s cross to bear after all. Maybe she’d meet Bobby in the afternoon, score some coke and neck long enough to keep the boy satisfied. Anything to dull the nightmares that came at dusk, when BOB slithered his way into her room.

Wise beyond her eighteen years, everything the young woman did was meticulously calculated. Even though that still cost her more than it all was worth. Mascara bled down peachy cheeks, tainting the dewy faced façade it had taken hours to achieve.

There was a knock on the door before it was wrenched open.

“Next john is ready and-” charcoal eyes widened as the madam saw the mess sitting in front of the vanity, “Honey, you’re a mess.”

“I’m alright,” Laura sniffled, adjusting her bustier. This was all so humiliating. Blackie took a rag to a welting face, pressing the cool cloth to her skin. One tooth snuck onto a cherry red lip, biting nervously. Watery blue eyes fell on the woman’s corkscrew curls, trying to count each ringlet to ease her mind. “I’m alright. I’m alright. I’m alright.”

“The swelling’s going down, sweetie.” The edge of a slender index finger slid beneath one eye. Laura feared she looked like a raccoon. “Let’s reapply the mascara and rouge. You’ll look good as new.”

It had only taken several minutes to restore seraphim that old perverts looked for. A pretty blonde angel that brought them heaven on earth for a couple hours. Realistically, it was a rather ordinary few minutes before she was disposed of like a used tissue.

But that didn’t much matter.

“I’ll send in your next.” Blackie announced before sauntering out the door. Blinking at her blue eyed husk, Laura took a Carnivale masque from the vanity. The garment was polish porcelain with burgundy lips. Black and red diamonds were hand painted across one eye as a matching silk ribbon bloomed from either side.

A bothersome thought kept sneaking to the forefront of her brain, the thought that she should put it on, to hide. Trance like, the object was tied into barrel curled blonde hair. The door squeaked open, announcing the arrival of the next john.

“I’ll be right there, please get comfortable.” Grateful for the silken room divider, a shadow ambled to the four-post bed.

“Take your time.” That voice sent a cold chill down her spine, gut churning at that familiar voice.

“Daddy?” whispering to her reflection, Laura quickly shoved her fist into her mouth. Biting down on one knuckle, she plotted a way to escape. Maybe it wasn’t Leland. Afterall, waspy middle-aged men all bled together: pointedly cordial and awkwardly paternal.

If it were, she’d still have to pass him to run away, embarrassing the two of them in the process. Plastering the mask to her face, Laura quickly pulled her robe on before slinking past the divider.

“I think there’s been a-” horror flashed over her eyes. Leland Palmer hadn’t been there to begin with. It was BOB. Sporting stained denim, malevolent eyes beamed at her hungrily, fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

She screamed, tears flooding down her face once more. But no one would save her, not at One Eyed Jack’s. BOB screamed with her before breaking out on a fit of maniacal laughter. Then a hand was hot on her face, knocking the mask to the ground.

“I think you’re too pretty to hide.” He growled, kissing her roughly as fingers clamped around her throat.

......

“You ever think about dying?” Laura asked blankly, sitting stiffly on the picnic blanket. James lay with his head in her lap while Donna hugged her knees.

“Why do you always say dark shit like that?” James’s was soft, not judgmental yet genuinely curious.

“We’re all gonna die someday, suppose it doesn’t hurt to bring up.” Donna shrugged beneath her mop of curls. She wished to sport a wave of golden tresses like her best friend but feared she was doomed to boast unruly hair with innumerable freckles.

Laura would always be the homecoming queen, and she the homecoming queen’s best friend.

“You’re both morose. What’s wrong with just living?” James chuckled, looking up into suede blue eyes. There was trouble lurking in those waters, something he didn’t recognize.

What if I told you I don’t have much time left on this planet? That BOB’s going to destroy me and trap me in the unknown? What about that, James?

“Guess I’m just thinking about the future.” Was all she offered instead, bopping him on the nose. “Do we have any more pie left?”

“Half of an apple from The Double R. Norma said it was on the house.” Donna moved to unwrap the dessert.

“Do you think there’s pie in heaven?” Laura looked over the bluff, thinking of what her afterlife would feel like. Probably lighter, softer than the serrated edge of the inevitable end. Maybe there would rest after bone broke like balsa wood, rancid ichor staining pink silk.

Donna unceremoniously plopped a generous serving of pie onto a paper plate, sliding it across rough gingham. Shrugging James off her plaid skirt, Laura lunged forward to enjoy the delicacy as if it were her last. For all she knew, it was.

“Sure,” Donna stroked aimlessly at blonde hair, “There’ll be pie in heaven.”

......

It was lonely in The Black Lodge. Other than the real Dale Cooper, she had no allies. Only waiting with rigidity for the unknown. A part of her hated the agent, the fact that he was alive and could communicate normally.

Her own words were warped, coming out of her lips with a stilted staccato.

But one hand spread over a black velvet shoulder, golden curls cascading down her back.

Before she could even ask “rof gnitiaw ew era tahW?”, Cooper pointed to the apex of thick red curtains. Blue light exploded into the room as an angel slowly dropped from the high vaulted ceiling. A smile was plastered across cherubic features before tears flooded down her face.

Smiling for the last time, Laura Palmer had won her redemption.

#laura palmer #fanfiction #my fanfiction #oneshot #twin peaks #character study #back story

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