#gay old men will forever be my weakness even if they have less than a minute screentime combined

[brbuttons]

they're husbands, your honour.

#if it looks inaccurate it's because it's release night and there's literally no references of these two online right now #sugar daddy ken #earring magic ken #gay old men will forever be my weakness even if they have less than a minute screentime combined #barbie #barbie movie #barbie fanart #barbie spoilers

[prettywarriors]

Ok ill bite whats the worst mg series

alright, whats the worst magical girl series in your opinion?

Thanks you two for letting me do some yelling. The obvious guess would likely be one of the recent edgelord shows right? Magical Girl Site or something similar? But nay I say, for while MGS and Day Break Illusion and such and what not generally tell you what to expect right away. Don't like super violence and suffering? Watch something else is the clear message from the get go. One of the bait and switch series then like Madoka or maybe Yuki Yuna? For what faults they may or may not have, at least these series do something and are interesting, even if you're not huge on what goes down in the series. A parody then? They range from affectionate to banned in New Zealand but regardless of quality and their feelings for MGs, it's a parody. It's a joke and shouldn't be taken seriously (plus they're usually short so you can just forget about them forever).

So what makes a series terrible then, I am sure you are asking. IMO? Setting expectations for an interesting and enjoyable series, and then dashing them to hell.

Come with me below the cut, as I talk about Key Princess Story: Kagihime Eternal Alice Rondo!

Spoilers abound so if you care about those for a 15 year old series, click away.

Background: Kagihime was a 4 volume manga that ran from 2004-2006 that was picked up for a 13 episode anime adaptation near the end of its run. The manga is created by a pair (Kaishaku) who you may know for making Magical Nyan Nyan Taruto. Kannazuki no Miko, and Steel Angel Kurumi, and the anime had a script written by the same writer (Mamiko Ikeda) for Tenshi Ni Narumon who also did some script writing for Princess Tutu and Seven of Seven. The anime also had 6 character music videos which are fairly simple but a nice addition to the series for the main girls. Discotek has been publishing the anime in the states in recent years, and the manga was brought over by *squints at book spine* Dr Master Publications.

The Premise: Girls transform and enter weird outside of reality spaces to fight each other with giant keys to take each other’s stories to create a third Alice In Wonderland story.

Well, an off-brand Alice story written by Alternate L. Takion, rather than Lewis Carroll/Charles Dodgson, that while the series uses all the aesthetic hallmarks of the tradition Alice, the little we see of the in universe Alice story is clearly different. Which is fine, at the end of the day, it’s still about someone who loves the Alice stories and wishes there was more, and even makes his own fanfiction version. His? Oh yeah, while the girls do all the fighting, the main character is Aruto, a teen boy who loves Alice, and for reasons we don’t know till late game, can enter the liminal spaces that the ‘Alice Users’ fight in. He chases a girl who looks like the Alice he sees in his story, who is named Arisu, and gets roped into this fanfic battle royale. He is also the older brother of the very needy Kirihara, who also ends up being and Alice User. As does Kirihara’s bff Kisa. To round out the group of enemies-turned-friends-who-will-work-together-to-collect-the-Eternal-Alice-without-having-to-fight-eachother group is a young genius researcher Kirika who wants to know more about Aruto’s connection that allows him to enter the spaces where the girls fight.

Then there’s all the other girls, some of whom still have real importance to the story and some who have a few panels or 2 scenes total. But with a whole bunch of girls to design, the creators reached out to a whole lot of other people to have them create designs! Eventually the battle gets down to the last few girls, there’s a confrontation with the guy running the whole thing, and while the anime and manga vary quite a bit the whole time, in both version Aruto ends up with Kirihara. Oh and Arisu was created by Aruto’s super imagination powers.  

The Promise: Here on is subjective, particularly with what I personally saw as potential from this series. because I need you to understand how much I want to like this series. 

~Alice in Wonderland themed: I know some people aren’t alice fans and that’s fine you do you but as a big alice fan this is great. We have a few alice episodes and themed characters amongst series like CCS and MGRP, and even Alice themes in other series like Tweeny Witches and Alice 19th. But damn it I am down for Alice series.

~Giant Keyyyyyyyys: Yeah yeah Kingdom Hearts but these keys are much more staff like for a lot of the characters which ads and air of elegance rather than the KH ones that for me at least feel well designed for big ol props rather than actual weapons. We also get...

~Weapon variety: It counts as a key if it’s a thorn whip that can be shaped like a key right? How about a giant pocket knife? Crossbows can also be keys. Hush. And we have this variety because

~Guest Artists: For magical girl series where we have a variety of outfits designed by different people, we have Kagihime, Uta~Kata, and uhh I guess Magia Record? But that’s a mobile game with a hella number of characters and with how mobile game works I wouldn’t count it just because it’s less the intent of the series to have variety and more the nature of having lots of girls. (Precure doesn’t count because unless I missed a memo each season’s set is still by one designer). If a series isn’t about a team and therefore doesn’t need cohesion, bringing in other artists is a great way for variety and new looks. 

~The long term goal: Fighting with other people who love the same piece of media you do in hopes of creating new material that will be viewed as official? That’s just fandom nowadays. But it’s a legitimate interesting concept, and opens up so many doors for a message for the series, be it ‘what you create is no less valuable than the canon work’ or ‘it’s hard to let go when something you love doesn’t have more to it but you can still love it for what it is’ or ‘bond with the people who like the thing you like ya idiot instead of fighting about it’. The concept is interesting and there are so many narrative ways you can take this.

~Gays: Between the anime and manga, we have at least 5 wlw. Is it a magical girl series without some gays? (side note- the manga had a short thing where the MC wears a girl’s uniform and is pretty comfortable in it and while there is no way this was the intent, between that and the emphasis on the stories that live in girls and how the fight zones have no men, I’m just saying, Trans girl Aruto.)

~Greater Fairy Tale Premise: We meet a Little Match Girl based MG who is obsessed with Andersen rather than the Alice books, and touch on a Sleeping Beauty character in the manga. The manga at least implies that classic stories and fairy tale authors uh. Live on in a liminal space as immortals with world warping powers within that world and there could be opportunities for other girls in the real world to fight for Little Mermaid 2: Electric Boogaloo.

The Good: Everything has positive points, no matter how bad it is.

~Character Designs: Some of those looks slap. As do most of their weapons. 

~Backgrounds: I have a strong opinion on backgrounds in anime that can be easily boiled down to old watercolor backgrounds good, modern filtered photos as background bad, and as a 2006 series, this might not be Memole nice but they’re quite attractive. 

~Splash Pages: Easily my favorite thing after the designs, each chapter’s title page for the manga just has a character standing in a setting. Which is not everyone’s thing I’m sure but it’s a nice simplistic way to let the characters breathe imo. Even if at least some of the settings were deffo traced. But that’s how backgrounds work to some extent? If I ever get to the Met again, I am tracking down this exact photo, but here is a likely candidate for an example.

~Different Versions: I do not understand the need to make an adaptation that tries to be a 1:1. Kagihime had the same ideas and characters and did some of the same beats but very much had a different finale story and a lot of changes in the middle (like the Alice cops in the manga). Again, not something everyone probably wants I’m sure, but I very appreciate this, especially since the Anime kept good pace with the number of Manga chapters (reading the manga again while watching the anime at 3.8x speed just now was very interesting to see the different interpretations of events in a different medium.)

The ‘Fine’: Yeah.

~Anime Visuals: Look 2006 was still early enough into digipaint that I will give it a total pass on these. The colors are too bright but in a very bland way, the lineart is nothing interesting, and the faces are. Iffy. But it’s not total garbage to look at (probably helped by backgrounds and character designs...) it just came out in an era where not enough people knew how to stylize things to account for the weakness of the tools of the time. (It was 4 years earlier but I feel Kagihime is the polar opposite of Chobits with its painfully bland color palette while still being just. Flat. Sorry for the drive by Chii.) 

~Music?: There sure were songs. Obviously, they are nothing to me.

The Bad: CW for.... somehow all the big things to an extent. 

~Fanservice: Look, I am fine with fanservice, especially for a series that’s, ya know, not targeted at kids, big Mai Hime fan here even if I would recommend skipping the panty thief episode. And honestly the series generally isn’t fanservicey, at least by the modern standards of having the camera choosing under the skirt rather than an over the shoulder shot like I’ve seen plenty in other shows. Even the sexier outfits like the rose whip dominatrix aren’t bad BUT. When the girls fight. One takes her phallic key and drives it into another girls chest between the boobs while the loser cries in pain and then her book comes out and when the victor rips out pages, the loser’s clothes also rip. It is very SuperS Amazon Trio assault metaphor-y. There’s also a bit of fanservice with the sister becauseeeee....

~Incest: If you read the premise up there, first wow good job because I’m sure not re-reading that, you might have noticed I said MC ends up with his sister. As someone who is a big mythology fan and watches plenty of anime, I have a decent tolerance for your obligatory ‘oh we’re siblings but actually cousins so our feelings are okay’ or whatever the fuck Citrus has going on I don’t know that series and I don’t vibe BUT. I have limits and boy did this series go beyond that because multiple episodes are dedicated to the sister being in love with the brother? And the brother returns her feelings but knows that they are wrong so he put everything he likes in his sister into his version of Alice who, of course, physically manifests as Arisu who he creates accidentally with his uh. Magic imagination powers. But again in both versions MC still ends up with his sister. Hey, at least the manga eventually said the boy was adopted when the sister was like, 3, so if nothing else no blood relations? The anime did not ad this. -_-

~Under Utilized Characters: Arisu’s gradual revelation that she has no childhood memories because she isn’t a real person is so interesting and they don’t do nothing with it but also? That’s the kind of thing I personally would love to dig into and Kagihime, while touching on this world shattering revelation, easily loops back to So Anyway She Should Fight For The Man and to hell with developing a life or personality outside of what has been written for her. The rest of the main 5 were 2 note characters which. Could be worse? The most interesting character ends up being the child genius who accidentally murdered her childhood bestie (and/or lover? depending on version) and her coming to terms with that (the friend is alive but the version changes how and why she thinks she’s dead). Then the villain has the motivation of ‘i lost my creativity and now have become an immortal living outside of normal space and am getting girls to fight each other because that’s like a story so I’m still relevant right?’. But shoutout to the anime for then taking death of the author literally. The numerous other girls are canon fodder outside of like. The manga version of the dead gf and the little match girl.

~Battle Royale: This is not a thing I have an issue with generally. Again, but Mai Hime fan, I need to read MGRP 11, BUT by not developing the non-main girls there is no emotional connection which makes them just canon fodder and that’s boring as sin for a royale system. The initial main character fights revolve so much around the MC guy being there that they fall flat, and the 2 or 3 final battles in both versions still feel without any stakes. Also for a royale thing most of the characters don’t actually die, which cool! Neat! Except when they do? Some nobodies and a somebody are murdered (at least in the manga) and the tone never feels like it’s supposed to be upping the stakes, it’s just. Some people are dead now. And do you want to guess which of the main characters died?

~Gays: Oh boy the best friend of the brother-complex sister is in love with her and (in the manga) dies. She does apparently get better for the last chapter but the death itself is only felt by the rest of the cast for a page or two before we go back to feeling sad big brother wants to kiss his mentally generated sister clone rather than his actual sister u_u. Bury your gays is nothing new, but I wonder if it was also intended to be justified because Guess Who Is Creepy and a bit Perverted? Oh look the lesbian keeps the used swimsuit of her beloved and manipulates events to get an indirect kiss and when she sees the sister trying to strange Arisu for a moment she decides to do it for the sister? It’s not good. You want bad gay rep in a magical girl series, well here ya go. We also had a nobody in the first(second?) episode whose story pages reveal her having a kiss with a girl, and then we also have the prodigy again and- in the manga- her. Uh. childhood lover who she thought she killed but the girl has been wiping her mind over and over so prodigy remembers ‘killing’ the friend and not the she’s alive so she can keep? fucking with her? Toxic!

~Sexual Content: But wait you say, you already covered fanservice! Ah but that is sexual content for titilation. This is sexual content for dramatic backstory! The red riding hood character was sexually assaulted, another character was manipulated into sex first as a teen and then more often to ‘get into the publishing industry’, and the same writer forces some aggressive kisses on the MC. None of it is gratuitous which is nice, but also, was it necessary? Not making a new point for this but read riding hood’s dog was also murdered so unnecessary animal death gets tossed on in there. 

~Male Lead: You can have a male, non magical character as the main character surrounded by magical girls. This is not how to do it. If I can make a vicious and hopefully not understood reference, Aruto is basically Tate from the Mai Hime Manga. If you understood that, I am so sorry. If you didn’t, congrats! Don’t read the manga. Or do and send me asks about the iconic final page of the first volume (18+). Anyway, this dude is boring, everything revolves around him, BUT I’ll be generous and say at least this isn’t a harem series? It looks like it out of context but it’s just a triangle with a fun attached scientist and token lesbian.

~Premise: They didn’t make good use of it. The initial goals of ‘take other girls pages from their soul books because if we get enough we unlock a third alice book’ is good! And then we add the twist that that was never going to happen and either if we get all the pages we can grant a wish, or these fights are just happening for the amusement of and asshole. Either way, yeah okay I guess. But at no point do we ever achieve this forbidden wish granting book and the asshole just. Lives. Nothing happens to him. His peers don’t even dunk on him. The only real changes from the beginning and the end of the series are: the siblings are now chill with dating, and the scientist lady won’t turn into a child in magical spaces. Oh. Yeah.

~Why did we make this adult a child sometimes?: I think we know why. Stop trying to get those types of folks to watch your already meh series. I also could have sworn at points in the past looking up images for this series I’ve seen extra art for Yuuri the Thumbelina-y Alice User that seemed like it would fit alongside anything by POP. You know, the Moetan guy. If you don’t know, god I wish that were me. 

Wrap Up: I have definitely forgotten some points and am well within my rights to ad to this whenever I remember more points but uh. Yeah.  

Listen you want an alice themed battle royale with nice outfits? Rozen maiden is right there. Battle Royale magical girl series that’s good with fanservice? Mai Hime. Series with different outfits while being based on a classic story? Pretear.

Hope anyone who read all of this at least got what I was saying, even if they don’t agree with it. And thanks for reading because whoops. 

#why do ya'll let me write so damn many words #thanks ya'll for letting me write so many words #kagihime eternal alice rondo #long post #text #not fashion #whoops 3k words

[stxn-the-mxn]

Family || 2019!Richie Tozier X Daughter!Reader

IT CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS

Being in the town of Derry felt more surreal than anything. It didn’t seem real, actually being in the town your father grew up in. Richie didn’t talk about Derry, in fact, he never once mentioned his childhood. In the fifteen years you’d been alive, not once was Derry mentioned. The first time it had ever been mentioned had been the night he came home and started packing.

***

It hadn’t been that long since you’d gone to bed, 1:30 am most likely. Usually, you went to bed earlier, maybe 10 pm or 11 pm, but on nights when Richie had a show, it would be hours till you went to bed.

It was a tradition for you to watch every one of your dad’s stand up shows, and hope that some of the jokes you had written made it in. Richie made it his mission to have at least one of your own jokes in his set.

Tonight, he had included three of yours, which all went down well after his hiccup at the start. One of yours got the biggest laugh, and you could see Richie’s proud face through the screen.

You switched off the TV after the show ended, and as usual, crashed on the couch. When Richie got home, he usually carried you back to your room, but that night, he made no move to pick you up, pacing around their rather large home instead.

“Dad? What’s going on?” You wiped the sleep from your eyes, as Richie thundered around the house. It was around 2 am, a regular time for Richie to come home after a show, but usually, he tried to be quiet to let you sleep. Tonight was not one of those nights.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet, I did. I jus-”

The empty suitcase in his hand rang some quiet alarms.

“Dad? Where are you going?”

“Home. I have to go home.”

“Take me with you.”

Richie thought it over. He couldn’t in good faith leave you home alone for as long as he would be gone. Surely you’d be fine if you did what he said. After all, he promised you all those years ago, when one of his late-night flings left a baby girl on his doorstep, that he would be the best damn father around.

“Only if you promise to not leave my sight.”

You held up your crossed fingers and crossed those fingers over your heart. 

“Right well, get packing, sweetie. We leave as soon as we’re done.”

***

The drive to Derry was a combination of obnoxiously singing along to the radio and you catching up on some sleep. The sign welcoming you to Derry sent a shiver down your spine, not going unnoticed by Richie.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“W-what? Oh! Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

He didn’t believe you but didn’t bring it up again. 

The car pulled into the parking lot of the Jade of the Orient, a Chinese restaurant. Your dad seemed almost shocked by its presence. Clearly, this wasn’t in Derry when he was a kid. Richie spotted two other people off to the side and seemed to recognize them.

“Big Ben? Bev?” You trailed behind him, a few meters behind, somewhat out of sight.

“Richie?” The woman asked, not noticing you as you peered at the two adults. The taller male made direct eye contact with you, a confused expression forming. You stepped closer, not caring if they saw you at this point.

“Uh, Richie, you seem to have a fan.” ‘Big Ben’ said, gesturing behind him. Richie whipped around, only to be met with you smiling awkwardly at him.

“Oh, no, actually this is my daughter, Y/N.”

The pair had extremely shocked faces. You felt a bit more offended than you should have at that comment. The pair seemed to notice but didn’t backtrack on their comments.

“I’m Beverly, it’s lovely to meet you.” Beverly held out a hand for you to shake, which you took happily. Ben simply greeted you with a smile.

“Well, let’s go meet everyone else. I wanna see how they react to Y/N.”

The whole vibe of the restaurant felt normal until you stepped into the reserved room for what you had heard was called “The Losers Club”. Your dad, being your dad, hit the gong on his way in, causing three heads to snap towards where the four of you were standing.

The three pairs of eyes stared at Richie, Ben and Beverly, before instantly snapping to you. Their expressions were similar to Ben and Beverly’s.

“Richie, Ben, Beverly.” One of the men at the table stated, trailing off as he looked at you again.

“Right, I’m starving. Let’s eat.” Richie cheered, and everyone else just accepted that Richie was not doing what they expected. And for some reason, they felt like that was what they expected.

“Hey, Rich, would you mind explaining who that is?” Another man asked, nodding in your direction.

“Oh! Right, this is my daughter.” The three men who weren’t Ben and Bev all dropped their jaws.

“It’s lovely to meet you all, I’m Y/N.” You smiled, feeling less nervous as they smiled back. Going around the table, they all introduced themselves as Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough and Eddie Kaspbrak.

You immediately noticed a strong bond between all of them, even if they had only reconnected less than an hour ago. It was a similar bond that you and your father had; family.

You also noticed a different bond between Richie and Eddie. It wasn’t news to you that your father wasn’t straight. And this Eddie man, no offence to anyone, did not give off straight vibes.

It was strange, how well you felt you fit in with the group of forty-year-olds. You and Eddie found many a common interest, including joking around and teasing Richie. The more Richie remembered, the more he realised that you were basically a baby Eddie, save for the hypochondriac-ness.

It brought a smile to his face as he watched the two of you mucking about like toddlers from beside him. 

Dinner continued on, and eventually, one of the waitresses brought out a bowl of fortune cookies. Everyone eagerly took one, cracking them open.

“Huh, mine just says ‘Could’. These cookies are bullshit.”

You looked at your slip of paper, and something about the words written caused that shiver to once again run down your spine.

Welcome to Derry, Y/N! Why don’t you stay forever?

Your hands were shaking, quite violently. Richie glanced over at you and immediately rushed to your side. He took the paper, reading it quickly before ripping it up. He hugged you tightly, comforting you like he would when you would get nightmares.

“You’re alright, sweetheart, you’re gonna be alright.”

***

You felt guilty, honestly. Richie had made you promise to stay in the hotel, not to set foot outside, but you didn’t listen. After finding yourself in a brand new town, so much different from your hometown, writing new material for your dad seemed bland. 

Exploring the place your dad grew up in seemed way more fun. Plus, it was a small town, what could really go wrong? 

In your journey to the centre of town, the only thing that went wrong was the kid who almost ran you over with his skateboard. Aside from that, you were yet to run into the other adults or anyone for that matter. The Canal Days fair was drawing in quite the crowd.

Turning the corner, you froze.

Something about the abandoned cinema in the middle of the town drew you in. It ran in Tozier blood to love the movies. Finding a hole through the newspaper, you pushed the door open. It was incredibly dusty, and you felt your throat constricting. Eddie had warned you earlier about how gross this town could be.

The hallway that led to the cinema was lit up, and the smell of popcorn was on the verge of overpowering all your senses. Something told you to run, walk, do anything in the opposite direction. But your body wasn’t listening, and you found yourself in the screening room in no time.

The screening room seemed harmless, but nothing in this town really was. You turned to leave when the sound of a projector turning on echoed through the empty room. Turning around slowly, every bone in your body trembling, you were met with the blinding white glow of the screen.

Your eyes locked with the harmless, yet frightening screen, panic settling in. 

The white screen wrinkled, and two beady yellow eyes opened. A scream latched itself in your throat, unable to escape through your dust infected lungs.

“Well, well, welcome to Derry, little Miss Tozier.” The face shrunk, smaller and smaller, and became a clown. At this moment, you wished your feet would just move, but alas, you remained glued to the spot.

The clown’s glowing eyes pierced your soul and reached out a gloved hand, grabbing the screen. The screen began to tear. The scream you were holding in escaped, causing the clown to laugh. Once the screen was entirely gone, the clown made his way towards you, leaping over the seats. 

Your feet, much to your dismay, remained glued to the ground. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. You would pinch yourself, open your eyes, and be back at home, watching some crappy movie and bullying it to death with your dad.

It wasn’t working. No matter how hard you pinched, no matter how many times you whispered that “it wasn’t real”, you kept opening your eyes to see that fucking clown.

Your entire body was shaking, all senses except sight seemed to disappear. The clown was only two rows away. One row away. Here. 

A gloved hand clamped around your neck, your already constricted throat growing tighter. The clown smiled, never breaking eye contact. Drool dripped from his mouth, as he growled lowly. His face contorted, turning into Richie.

“You’re useless. A burden. I should’ve left you on that fucking doorstep. You’ve done nothing but hold me back. I never even wanted a child. Your mother was a drunk mistake, and so are you. I might as well leave you here to die.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks. No, your dad would never… Is that really what he thought? Had he spent fifteen years blaming you in secret? No, no, he promised that he loved you. He swore on his life that you were his everything.

Maybe it was true… after all, would any gay man want to live with and raise a reflection of someone who he never wanted to be with?  No. You had to push the thundering thoughts aside. No.

“N-no.” Your voice was weak, only just loud enough to hear. “Richie” tilted his head, a sad expression on his face. His skin was reverting to the pasty white of the clown. 

“No? Poor Y/N doesn’t want to accept that no one truly loves or wants her. Not even her own father.”

“Y-you’re not r-r-real. You c-c-c-can’t be real.” Words struggled to form, and those that did struggled to escape. The clown dropped his Richie facade and in a terrifying turn of events, smiled at you.

His grip continued to tighten, and you could see black dots forming in your vision. The sensation of trickling blood set your mind ablaze. You didn’t know where it was coming from, but it was there, and the clown was the cause.

In your last seconds of consciousness, you heard the thundering sets of footsteps coming down the hall, but the clown had sensed them first. You felt like the world was spinning before everything faded to black, your father’s panicked, fearful face the last thing you saw.

***

“Fuck, shit, shit, fuck!” The five other losers sat, heads hanging as Richie stormed around the building. They didn’t know what to do. Who would, in this situation? Bill was the only one who was close to understanding what Richie was experiencing.

“I’m a terrible father.” His pacing stopped as his knees gave out, collapsing onto Eddie, who caught him with ease. He held Richie tightly, letting him sob into his shoulder. 

In the minutes since Richie had been too late, he was already struggling to come to terms with the gap of silence where you used to stand. It wasn’t right. It was unnatural, unheard of,  unorthodox. 

He couldn’t speak, the wave of guilt and despair pulling him out to sea.

“Richie, I wholeheartedly promise you that you are the best damn father ever. We are all going to get Y/N back, and we will stop at nothing until we do.”

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie, and one by one the losers joined in. Y/N Tozier was a loser now. And losers never left a loser behind.

***

The sewers were cold, wet and extremely uncomfortable. It was impossible to tell how long you’d been stuck here, but you did know that you’d walked through what felt like thousands of tunnels. You just wanted your dad back.

You couldn’t shake the tiredness that weighed you down. Closing your eyes wasn’t an option. You couldn’t let your guard down, not for a second, unless dying at the hands of a killer clown was on your bucket list.

The clown hadn’t shown his face since he took you. Part of you felt relieved, you didn’t have to fear for your life yet. But God knows what he was doing on the surface. You could only hope and pray that your father and his friends were okay.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as thoughts of your dad filled your mind. All you wanted was to be held in his arms again. Your dad was your everything, and you were his. This was most likely the longest you’d been away from each other. 

You threw a small pebble up and down, catching it over and over again. Your trajectory was off on one throw, and it bounced and rolled its way over to the wall. Building up some courage, you scampered over to where the rock was, but your mad dash back to the “safety hole” was cut short by an echo.

“Come one, we gotta squeeze through that hole. We can all make it through if we try hard enough.”

That was Mike’s voice. They had come to save you. Somehow, no matter how far below Derry you were, they found you. You ran to where Mike’s voice was coming from, tripping over the smaller spikes on the ground.

“M-M-Mike!” 

Said man’s jaw dropped and he ran towards you, and you grasped onto his jacket. Having a physical being to cling onto was calming. As you stood there, clinging to Mike for dear life, more people came through the small gap, the first being Beverly. She ran to you too, her hug even tighter than Mikes. She was the only loser who knew exactly what you had just experienced.

As Bill and Ben appeared, you could barely see them from between Mike and Bev’s arms. But they were there, and they were real and they were everything you needed right now.

“Y-you found m-m-me!” Bill looked at you surprised as you stuttered over your words. Your stutter wasn’t simply a stutter of fear, it was like his. He knew the causes of a stutter very well. And looking at the causes, he could cross out genetics and prayed he could cross out a brain disorder. Which left emotional trauma. Psychogenic stuttering.

As you remained surrounded by the four losers, quiet bickering drifted into the cavern. 

The four stepped aside as Eddie and Richie came through the hole. Eddie froze, his dropped jaw widening to a smile while Richie remained frozen. There you were, alive, seemingly unharmed, surrounded by all his closest friends.

“Y/N. Holy fucking shit, Y/N!” Eddie exclaimed, hugging the girl close to him. They had only known each other for a few days, but they were already extremely close.

Richie still hadn’t moved, so Y/N and Eddie took the first step, sending Richie into a crazed sprint as he ran to hold his daughter again. Tears blurred everyone’s vision as father and daughter reunited. 

If Richie had an option, he would have chosen to never let his precious baby go.

“Richie. We have to perform the ritual. It's now or never.” 

***

The Ritual of Chüd didn’t work. Mike hadn’t been telling the whole truth. And also, a spider-legged demon clown was chasing and tormenting the Losers Club. 

Each loser had run off in different directions, Richie and Eddie both pulling you with them as your eyes lay transfixed on the evil entity. The sewer’s tunnels were long, windy and tight at some areas. They seemed never-ending.

Until you came to a sudden stop.

Standing in front of the three doors, Richie, Eddie and yourself contemplated what to do. In this sort of situation, nothing was to be trusted. Flinging open the ‘Very Scary’ door, you all found an empty closet.

“O-oh. Well, this s-s-s-seems harmless eno- oh what the f-f-fuck?” You screamed as a pair of disembodied legs ran towards you. Richie pulled you behind him as he slammed the door shut. 

The next door they opened read ‘Not Scary At All’ and at this point you were highly doubting that. From behind your barrier of Eddie and Richie, you could see a small dog staring at you all. It also seemed harmless at first, so you waited for it to fuck around and scare the shit out of you.

“Aww, it’s actually kinda cute.” Eddie cooed, leaving you a tad confused. Richie seemed to agree, telling the dog to sit, which it did.

“Aw, that’s precious.”

The dog twisted into a beastly creature, which was truly inevitable, wasn’t it? Your father and Eddie screamed as if they hadn’t been expecting any of this. The door slammed shut, and you quickly found yourself running out of the cave, back to where this whole mess started.

As you stepped foot into the cavern, bright lights drew you in, and you couldn’t feel anything. You were numb to the world around you. The screams of your father were nothing but faint echoes.

You could feel yourself succumbing to the lights. You let them decide your fate. This was how it all ended.

Until the lights disappeared, and you came crashing into Richie. You blinked slowly, adjusting to the darkness once more. Richie cradled you to his chest as Eddie stood off to the side, amazed at what he had just done.

IT lunged a clawed limb at the Eddie, but he ducked in time for IT to get trapped in the rock walls. It was a chance to escape.

On your feet once more, you ran to meet all the losers. Clambering through the hole once more, you used the time to think of a plan.

“We n-n-need to bring IT d-down to size. If w-w-we can lure IT in, IT’ll h-h-h-have to shrink to f-fit through that h-h-h-hole.” You muttered, mainly to yourself, as you contemplated your options.

“That just might work,” Bill announced, bringing you out of your daze. “But I don’t think we have to lure IT out here…”

Bill had a plan.

Crawling through another entrance, you mentally cursed yourself for coming back to this hellhole. Bill stood before the clown, who loomed over you all. 

“You’re just a clown.”

Physical pain flashed across IT’s face. 

“A clown!”

“You’re a sloppy bitch!”

“You’re nothing!”

The clown’s spider legs weakened, collapsing slightly. The insults continued being thrown, and IT continuously grew weaker. As IT staggered backwards into the centre spikes, IT grabbed the smallest loser, pulling her towards itself.

You fought against IT’s arm, yet somehow still found yourself powerless. Even now, IT was too strong for you.

“Put me d-down. You’re just a clown. Just a motherf-f-fucking clown!” 

With a final punch to the clown’s stupid red nose, IT let you go, deflating into an ugly baby-looking creature. You ran to Richie and Eddie, the pair making another protective barrier around you.

You all moved towards IT, and Beverly kneeled down beside IT. IT’s expression was pure fear. 

The beautiful irony of it all.

She reached into IT, yanking out a rotten, yet beating heart. Each loser placed a hand on the heart, and IT seemed to be begging for mercy. For forgiveness.

You all squeezed the heart, crushing it and watching the life drain from the monster that had tormented Derry for millions of years.

IT had been defeated for good.

***   

Driving away from Derry was therapeutic. It was a breath of fresh air. For the first time in far too long, you felt safe.

On your way out, Richie pulled over on the bridge and got out. Walking over to the wooden rails, you followed behind him, not noticing the other car pulling up too. Richie traced a pair of letters on the wood.

“R + E.” You murmured, much louder than intended. Your dad spun around, catching you just in time to make the connection. His eyes drifted behind you, to the man standing beside his car.

“It was a-a-always you and E-Eddie, huh?” 

You kneeled beside him, hugging him tightly. You knew how long it took your dad to accept who he was, so seeing him recarving the faded ‘E’ into the wood, with ‘E’ standing not so far behind meant the world to you.

“Can you just go kiss h-him, for god’s s-s-sake?” You whispered into his side, making him laugh.

“I just might, so you better close your eyes.” He covered your eyes with his hands, making you laugh loudly.

“And miss s-s-seeing my dad happier than e-ever? I could never.” 

His smile held so much love and appreciation for the beautiful girl he had raised that people all across the USA could feel it.

***

“Dad! These are our s-seats.”

Your dad followed behind, making sure you were reading the right part of the tickets.

“Yep, these are them.”

You sat down first, leg bouncing in anticipation. You had wanted to see this live for years and finally, you could get into the show, with adult supervision.

“It s-starts in three m-minutes!”

If it weren’t for the sheer fanciness of this building, you’d be bouncing off the walls in excitement.

Three minutes passed quickly, and the announcement was made that the show was starting. You stared at the stage, a huge smile on your face.

He walked out on stage, and the applause was thunderous, but you knew you were the loudest.

“Yknow, my husband is a bitch and I love him so much.”

Looking at Eddie’s jokingly hurt expression, you burst out laughing, harder than you ever had in your life.

***

It was around 2 am when you all paraded back home. It had been a long, carefree night, only made better by the pure joy radiating off everyone in your family. Eddie fumbled for the house keys, eventually unlocking the door, only to be knocked down by their surprisingly strong Pomeranian, Stanley.

A minute after you walked inside and kicked off your shoes, you passed out on the couch. Stanley curled up beside you, licking your face.

Eddie and Richie shared similar expressions as they gazed at the adorable sight. Not once had either of them believed their lives would come to this.

Richie Tozier never believed he’d be a world-famous comedian, married to his best friend that he’d been in love with since childhood, with the most amazing daughter anyone could ask for.

Eddie Kaspbrak never thought he’d escape his never-ending cycle of letting an emotionally abusive woman control his life, marry the man of his dreams and have a daughter.

Y/N Tozier-Kaspbrak truly believed that no other kid was as lucky as her. No other kid had a perfect, unbreakable pair of parents like she did.

No other family was as beautifully perfect as the Tozier-Kaspbrak family.

Not even close.

***

@peteporkers @unamused-fangirl

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #eddie x richie #richie x eddie #reddie #richie tozier x daughter!reader #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #it #it x reader #it 2019 #it 2019 x reader

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

TLDR: Republicans believe themselves to be infallible and cannot be convinced otherwise

Republicans think America is perfect and always has been, while simultaneously believing that America is DOOMED and ON THE EDGE OF COLLAPSE at all times and want to bring us back to the Before Times™ when men were men and women were household appliances and minorities were someone else’s problem.  If you bring up a genuine critique of American culture or history they throw a pissbaby shit fit and start spewing nationalist platitudes, “America: Like It or Leave It!”  All their complaints stem from their perceived self-importance being eroded; they don’t like to realize that other people with differing opinions exist and should have their voices heard.  If a “brown” or a “black” or a “red” or a “yellow” is allowed to speak, that just means there’s one less space for a “white.”  All their complaints come from a slippery slope argument that if we don’t model our society after their specific cherrypicked interpretation of The Bible then we will degenerate into amoral savagery.

They say being gay is an abomination and allowing it will damn our children to hell; what they really think is that it’s gross and they don’t want to see things they think are gross.  There’s literally no good argument against marriage equality besides “I don’t personally like it.”  America is not a theocracy, so the belief system of Christianity should not be construed as the law of the land.  This stems from their belief that the Bible is infallible, “because the Bible says so.”  They don’t know and don’t want to know about the history behind it, nor the very contentious political landscapes at the times the books were written, nor the personal biases of the very human authors.  If the Bible is a literal textbook, then why?  What makes it so special?  By whose authority were its contents collated and designated THE Good Book?  If the Bible is literal, why not the works of Homer, or the Epic of Gilgamesh?  Just because the Bible says the Bible is right doesn’t make it so.  For the record, I am a Christian, and I think the Bible is just an old book.  I’m a Christian in that I follow the teachings of Christ, which can be summed up as “DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE.”  I live by that, and All the ChrINOs (Christians in Name Only) need to learn it.  Jesus would be ashamed of what he saw today.

They say that abortion is baby murder, on par with ritual human sacrifice and Satan worship. They don’t understand biology, they have a Sunday School understanding of philosophy, and live in a world so black and white that they can’t even imagine a reason someone would have an abortion besides that they’re a terrible person; a woman who would have an abortion is unfit to be a mother in their eyes because they see abortion as equivalent to smothering a baby with a pillow because you don’t want to take care of it anymore.  “He or she is alive, he or she has a heart beat!”  Well, at this point is is just a blob of tissue, not a living person; a heart beat alone does not make something alive or dead.  Your life comes from your brain, not your heart.  If someone is alive the moment their heart starts, then they must be dead the moment is stops, so CPR is necromancy.  A person isn’t considered dead until their brain is dead, so if they wanted to argue that life begins at brain activity they would have a stronger argument, though still weak because brain activity is not personhood either.  Patients in permanent vegetative states on life support may have some brain activity, but they are effectively dead.  There is no way a judge, appointed by senators elected by the people of the United States, can prove that not only do souls exist but that they are created the second a sperm fertilizes an egg.  If “souls” exist, they aren’t so much created as built up over time as we gain new experienced and our brains develop.  What we are is electricity in a ball of meat jelly in our skulls, and that comes to being at a point after which abortions are already banned.  Conservatives also just want to control women; Roe v. Wade isn’t explicitly about the right to an abortion, it is about the right to body autonomy.  Do women have the right to control their own bodies, or do they defer that right to their fathers and husbands?  Are women people or property?  Can a man make decisions on a woman’s behalf?  “You must forgive my daughter; as a simple minded woman she’s fallen into a stupor of female hysteria.  We’ll have the family doctor bring out the smelling salts and leaches.”

They say that certain vices are crimes against God, but only when some people do it.  Divorce is a sin because marriage is sacred, except when a conservative does it, then it’s totally justified because of such and such explanation.  Tattoos are the mark of the beast, worn by degenerates and lesbians, except when a conservative does it, then it’s just art and harmless self expression.  Marijuana is a gateway drug and we need to lock away its addicts and throw away the key, unless a conservative does it, then it’s just recreational, no big deal, we don’t want to ruin the [white] boy’s future because of it.  A black person who does cocaine is a criminal, a white person who does cocaine is a public figure (you’d be surprised how many actors and politicians regularly use coke; they have to have high energy 24/7 in case there are any cameras, so they need uppers to keep themselves presentable).  This all springs from the fundamental conservative philosophy of “it’s okay when WE do it, but not when YOU do it.”  That’s the long and short of it.  The in-group is allowed to do things, but the out-group isn’t.  It’s the Us vs Them mentality taken to the logical extreme; WE are people, THEY are monsters.  WE are allowed to have faults, THEY have to stay in line and follow all the rules.  OUR lives matter, THEIR lives are lesser.  When you strip away the showy bits and get down to the core of their beliefs, everything stems from their desire to hurt anyone who isn’t them.  They want power, they want to be special, they want the Good Guys™ to always prevail over the Bad Guys™, and they want to be the ones to decide who is good and who is bad.  Their opinions are the only ones that matter, everyone else is wrong because they’re not them.  Now, it’s not like you could solve every problem by opening up your mind to new opinions; there are some issues that are indeed black and white with objectively right and wrong answers, but they live in a world where they are incapable of being wrong.  They see personal growth as a betrayal of the self, that admitting a fault is terrible, that apologizing and learning from a mistake is traitorous.  No, they have to double down on every single one of their beliefs to re-instill it in their minds.  They can never doubt themselves, because God will punish them forever if they ever have doubt.  They can’t ask questions or look at things from other perspectives because that would be an admission that their perspectives are fallible.  They are afraid of changing their minds so much that they refuse to even listen when someone explains their opinions because they don’t want to have their minds co-opted by Satan’s LIES!  If they hear something convincing, it’s all over, their entire world collapses, everything they believe is a lie, they lose, they go to hell forever, The End.

That is the dichotomy under which Republicans live their lives.  Nothing matters but what they believe.  They don’t believe what they believe for logical reasons, so no amount of logic will ever make them not believe it.  They’re making up their own rules to win.  You’re playing Rock-Paper-Scissors and they throw Nuclear Bomb, which defeats all three, so you lose.  You say that’s not fair, they say tough.  You throw Nuclear Bomb, and they say they have a bomb proof shield, so the bomb doesn’t hurt them but kills you, so you lose.  You can’t even beat them at their own game because they’ve been playing it longer, and they cry foul when you stoop to their level, suddenly saying that you need to be the bigger person, walking right up to the line of admitting that what they do is wrong but not quite getting there, simply reverting to the complaint that you shouldn’t be allowed to do it.  “I can, but YOU can’t.”  That’s why it infuriates me when nobody ever calls out a Republican for their hypocrisy.  They do something, a Democrat does that exact same thing, they cry foul, but nobody ever says “well, you didn’t have a problem when you did it,” they just try to excuse their own actions rather than demand justification for theirs.  Democrats are always on the defensive, they always look like they’re losing even when they’re winning, so the Republicans can use that to build their base and rally together for the occasional victory (Democrats won 7 of the last 8 presidential elections; the last Republican to legitimately win the presidency was George H.W. Bush in 1988).

I don’t know how you’d even begin to fight someone who is this far down the rabbit hole of self denial.

Democrats self-reflect, Republicans self-deflect.

Democrats are progressive, Republicans are regressive.

Now I’m sure there are no Republicans reading this, but if there are they’ll make themselves known and “totally refute” everything I’ve said with some paper thin argument that doesn’t stand up to scrutiny, but they don’t care because it stands up to them.  They only need to show one example of a Democrat failing to write off the entire party; they only need to show one black Republicans to deny the existence of racism; one gay Republican denies homophobia; one women denies sexism.  They are the party of tokenism.

They will point out the mote of dust in your eye and ignore the plank in their own.

Debate me, I have nothing better to do with my time, I’m a dirty libtard cuckflake soyboy beta with a case full of participation trophies and handouts paid for by other people’s tax dollars (funny, they think handouts are for degenerates, except when they get them.  Inheritance?  Privilege?  Never heard of them!)

#debate me #tldr #republicans #fuck republicans #conservatives #conservatism #fuck conservatives #republicanism #self righteousness #self importance #superiority complex #us vs them #tribalism #infallible #infallibility #the bible #bible #biblical #politics #political #debate #logic #abortion #marriage equality #gay marriage #abortions #social issues #God

[cripplecharacters]

What would a real experience in a psychiatric ward be like? Lots of sites say its good but they seem to be from non-patients. Do you also have any/know where I can find more reliable resources?

yeah, they’re awful. i’ll give my experiences, but they’re pretty intense. 

tw psychiatric abuse, suicide mention, sex ment, conversion therapy(?) under the cut. i’ll be getting a little personal and a little painful. a lot personal. i want to be clear: the only people these places help are those with unipolar depression and anxiety and EVEN THAT is only if you do everything they say and act the way they want. and are above the age of 35. and are nice to them. i take that back: it doesn’t matter what you have, if you don’t do whatever they say then they don’t help you.  i don’t actually mind giving my experience because venting is good.my experience is heavily tied to my being lgbtq/queer, but that by no means was the focus.

now, this is all worse-case… i’m sure there’s people who work at these places who are good people, but there’s bound to be people in the replies with their own horror stories and i recommend they share said stories and that you read them. and i do mean horror stories. first of all, it depends on the ward. short term facilities completely reduce your sense of freedom down to nothing because all they want is to make sure you aren’t going to kill yourself or someone else. in several places you are required to have a psych evaluation after a suicide attempt that lands you in the ER, some places skip it and just toss you into a short term facility. most people stay in those facilities for about a week at most, then move on to a long term facility if they need to stay longer. generally you get tossed in a room and have to wait until a counselor can see you, they usually make you go to their ‘group therapy’ which, in short term facilities, is pretty weak since most everyone there is exhausted and/or actually having a breakdown, but if you don’t go to groups they can mark you down as non-compliant and it’ll make it harder for you to be cleared to leave.the nurses can try to be sympathetic, but most of them have kind of reduced patients down to moving faces. they aren’t really sympathetic because to them, you’ll be gone in a few days, and your panic and fear will go away like it always does, and it’s not their problem. sure, they can handle a crisis- but they really aren’t all that kind and tend to get annoyed easily if patients don’t comply since they see so many patients they’ve stopped seeing them as individuals and just as nervous animals to be calmed, drugged, and booted out. sometimes the counselors will diagnose you with something completely off base and change all your meds before kicking you out, then you have to have everything changed back. seriously, if you don’t want to go to the groups, they make sure you know that it’ll keep you there longer. it doesn’t matter if you’re exhausted and want to rest. they made us go out and do “stretches” and lie down on linoleum. i don’t like touching the floor. they made me do it anyway. i can’t be still for long periods of time doing nothing. they made me do it anyway. granted, i was 14 and in the minors ward at that time, but still. if you’re too sick to eat, they mark it down and they’ll start breathing down your back about eating disorders. if you don’t do whatever you’re told, they usually imply you’ll have to stay longer. that’s essentially how they keep control. there’s a lot of ‘how’s your mood today’ and fake concern that hides that they’re just getting your info and wanting to move on. kids wards are especially horrible. they act like everyone there is a complete brat that is actively trying to cause trouble and they can and will make you sit in your room with nothing to do. 

also they WILL just change your medicine. the second place i went to as a minor just decided i didn’t need my stimulants, they didn’t believe in giving stimulants to people during nonwork days. they didn’t consult with me OR MY PARENTS, they just didn’t give me the medicine i’ve been on since i was five. adhd meds aren’t the types to cause withdrawal, but they keep me calm, awake, and alert, and when i’m not those things there really isn’t much being done. my mom went ballistic and pulled me out of that facility because they decided to screw with my medicine without asking anyone.

it’s pretty unanimous in any of these facilities that they think they are Always Right. ALWAYS. they can never ever be wrong. giving a 17 year old one of the most potently sedative antipsychotics out there instead of one less intense? they were absolutely in the right. thorazine WILL knock you out completely. i slept for hours on the couch in the rec room and it was my fault for not going to groups that day. 

i went to a long term facility literally a week after i turned 18. i had been told before i fit a lot of bpd symptoms and it was likely i had it, so i communicated that- i also communicated the horribly toxic and messed up friend situation i had been in the past two years, and i also communicated that i was asexual- big. mistake. they threw me into groups about healthy relationships and the counselor told me to my face that ‘sex is the most important part of intimacy’ and they kept drilling that i would forever be unhappy and toxic unless i listened and obeyed their concepts of healthy relationships and sex. again, i had literally just turned 18. most of the people in the facility had an average age of 35. i went there to process trauma and abuse and was treated like i needed to ‘get over’ my struggles in relationships- not the struggles that were actually there, like being unable to stand up for myself and communicate my needs, oh no- for my apparent resistance to intimacy and trust. those places medicalize the fuck out of being lgbtq- i had to also sit and go in depth about my dysphoria only for them to look at me funny (sorry nonbinary dysphoria weirds you out? my therapist understands it fine?) and continually gaslight me over and over about my experiences, my attraction, who i was attracted to and how- it was as though they had absolutely no idea how to interact with anyone lgbtq that wasn’t cis and gay and middle aged. i said i knew who i was: nonbinary, asexual, trans, not attracted to men: they used my close friendship that had been horribly toxic and traumatic with someone who wasn’t even a guy but who used he/him (or any) pronouns to try and convince me i was actually in love with him, because the concept of toxic friendships and relationships that aren’t romantic and are still painful exist. i still don’t know if they were trying to convince me i was a gay man or a lesbian, the trans thing confused them and they went back and forth with me not accepting my body or me not accepting being trans (i said i was trans?) if they do not immediately understand it, they want to make you say you’re something they do understand, because that way they’ll still be right. 

the gaslighting is something.a lot of these long term places (at least the one i went to) are meant for people older than the age of 35. they are meant for cishet people with depression. if you have issues that cannot be resolved with the treatment they give cishet people with depression, screw you. there WAS a trans guy in the ward who was given a decent amount of respect when they didn’t want him to talk about being trans in groups. they encouraged disclosure and they wanted to know everything. and again: you HAD to go to the groups, no matter how uncomfortable you are there. there’s not a lot of support for people who have disorders that Will Never go away- it’s just “coping strategies” for unipolar depression and anxiety and sometimes ptsd groups that i didn’t get to go to because i was too busy learning about sex and relationships. they acted like i was the one who could fix all my problems and i just needed to take charge and accept things and be kind to my inner child, but i’m a person with two personality disorders and severe dissociation. some things will NEVER go away, you can only learn how to manage symptoms as they come.and honestly i don’t think they even had very good depression and anxiety treatment. i feel bad for the people under the age of 25 who went there for depression treatment and were told it was something they could fix on their own. it’s not. 

these places are often old fashioned in that manner. the second you mention BPD, they go completely off the rails with treating you like you’re a menace to your relationships and you need to fix yourself before it’s too late. but that’s another story about how much BPD is stigmatized.  

also, they made me stay in a room with someone who snored despite the many free rooms. i know it meant ‘less rooms to clean’ but i have profound sleep issues and i’m autistic and have misophonia. i wanted to go out and sleep in on the couches in the open area but they just gave me earplugs and made me go back to bed. no sympathy. no sympathy for panic attacks or people dissociating. they shoved essential oils under my nose when i dissociated and i nearly hacked up a lung, those things are awful. 

you can’t just be left alone. you are NEVER alone, you can’t go and be quiet and be left alone, it is constant. you are stuck there and you cannot leave no matter how they attempt to sugar coat it: even if you went there willingly, they can keep you there if they say you’re a danger to yourself. they will check on you constantly if you want to be alone because you can’t want to be alone without being a danger to yourself, according to them. it’s not like people are autistic sometimes. it is IMMENSELY, unbelievably stressful. there is no being alone, they make you keep doors open, they make you viewable at all times- i can understand why, to an extent, but they have absolutely no sympathy for how you feel and don’t usually try to accommodate you either, so you just have to suffer through it. there are a million ways the rules to protect people could be better handled, but that would require being more one on one with a patient and actively being sympathetic to an individual’s needs, and you’ll just be leaving in a few weeks anyways, so why should they bother? there’s really absolutely no sympathy or compassion for the patients because they keep telling us to look at the big picture- when most of us are stuck in the here and now and the pain we are currently going through. 

anyways, i got bitter and angry, but that’s most of my experience. i have a lot of blurry memories i can’t really remember as bits and pieces, it’s all just one solid blur of six weeks of incredible stress. i hated every second and i learned absolutely nothing there because i’m not a 40 year old with depression, i was a traumatized teenager with several serious disorders. they were NOT equipped and they were stuck 30 years in the past. i was gaslit most of my time there about my relationships and my sexuality and my gender, about my illnesses and my life and my feelings- they’ll sit down and tell you in a gentle voice that you’re just stressed out and it’ll be okay, but then they don’t actually do anything to encourage that or help you be okay. they just claim to know how you feel, then insist on how you feel, then threaten you if you get mad. 

i honestly hated that place so much. there’s no compassion. they try to make it homey but it’s really just throwing a blanket on how they see the patients feelings as temporary and inconsequential.

I left learning absolutely nothing. i’ve gone further with my personal therapist than i’ve ever, ever went with the facility because she actively listens, respects, and understands me. 

there’s no respect in these places. none. they are for people with easily palatable anxiety and depression- if you have severe psychotic depression? you’re screwed. if you’re severely depressed and suicidal? you’re screwed. if you have constant panic attacks? you’re screwed. i mean the most basic concepts of those disorders, no room for anyone else. 

anyways.

as usual, reddit has a lot of first-person experiences to check out; there’s no doubt some about psych wards. this may be non conventional, but there’s a webcomic about an inpatient facility called ‘fresh meat’ that might be useful to look at. it’s about a 17 year old with depression who has to go to a psych ward. it’s really viscerally uncomfortable in all the ways these places are, and i frankly cannot recommend it enough if you want a good idea of how those places work (the author is mentally ill themself.) it made me a little ill how well it captured the dehumanization and gaslighting, even if it’s fiction, i think it’s worth a look if you want more ideas.  also check the post replies for people with their own experiences. -mod a

#psychiatric abuse tw #sex ment tw #hospitals tw #Anonymous

[ladyxxdaydream]

37. The two of you wear costumes from the same fandom at a costume party. (Yuri on Ice?)

Sorry it took me so long to get to this prompt, anon! Sadly, I’ve never seen Yuri on Ice (its on my list!!) so I had to go with a different fandom. Hope you like it!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

#37 (from this prompt list here. Feel free to submit your own! I’ve already filled 20, 32, 47 & will be filling 2.)

Iruka walked into the party alone. Kotestu and Izumo opted to “watch scary movies” instead, which Iruka knew was code for fucking all night. They were still high off their new relationship. They’d invited him over, but he really wasn’t in the mood to be the third wheel while they made out and fondled each other under a blanket, waiting for a polite time to kick him out. Besides, he liked dressing up, and he thought he did a hell of a job on his costume this year.

Iruka prided himself on his craftiness, which was part frugality, part creativity. He already had the boots, and the navy pants. The blue tunic was fashioned from an old bed sheet. He brought the design to a friend in the theater department and asked her to stitch it up with white trim. All that was left was to bandage up his arms to his elbows, pull on a pair of fingerless blue gloves (the middle and index cut at the knuckle instead of the palm), and fasten the white choker around his neck—he’d ordered the flat, square wooden beads online, which were less than $5.

He made a damn fine Sokka.

Several people had already told him so on his walk over from the dorms. Some had even asked to snap a picture with him, which Iruka shyly obliged.

Upon entering the house, Iruka went straight to the kitchen and poured himself a beer from the keg. When he turned back to face the rest of the room, his eyes landed on a folding table lined with snacks. Iruka knew it was Kurenai’s idea, because Asuma didn’t have that kind of courtesy. What really caught his attention though, was the rather tall person in a fuzzy Appa suit.  It looked like a onesie for a 10-year old, given that it cuffed at the guy’s knee, revealing pale calves, instead of reaching his ankles. The flat, wide tail swayed as he moved. It was oddly adorable. Iruka wondered what kind of face went with that swath of silver hair.

His curiosity got the better of him.

“Nice costume,” Iruka said as he approached, biting into the rim of his red plastic cup to try and smother his smile.

The guy looked up from the table, and swept his eyes over Iruka in obvious assessment. It made a heavy kind of heat settle into his skin. Iruka wasn’t prepared to be met with someone so attractive.

“You too,” the guy said. “I see you’ve got excellent taste in television.”

“Did you get that in the kid’s section?” Iruka smirked. He couldn’t help himself. It was so incredibly dorky.  

“How’d you guess?” the guy grinned. “The best part is the hood.”

He pulled it up over his head, the arrow bisecting it through the middle, while two brown horns stood out on either side.

It was the cutest thing Iruka had ever seen in his life. His heart beat hard against his chest.

“Hm,’ Iruka hummed. “You’re missing a few legs.”

“Well, we can’t all look like professional cosplayers. Didn’t anyone tell you this was a halloween party? Your costume should either be slutty, cheap, or tacky, judging by the look of this crowd, and yours is none of the above. I went for cheap,” he said, placing a hand on his chest.

“Mine barely cost a thing. I made it. Minus the boomerang,” Iruka said, placing a hand on the object slung at his hip. “I bought that.”

“Huh. Look at you,” the silver-haired stranger said, clicking his tongue. “And you shaved the sides of your head for it, too? What dedication.”

“Ha,” Iruka laughed. “I had this hairstyle before today, believe it or not.”

“Hm. I don’t know if I do,” the guy said, narrowing his eyes at him a bit.

Iruka’s breath caught in his throat.

He’s flirting.

—

Kakashi was flirting. He couldn’t help himself. Not when this sexy fucking water tribe fantasy was standing right in front of him, dark skin and all. Admittedly, he’d searched for fan art of an older Sokka before and it definitely tickled his fancy. And uh, he may have bookmarks of Zukka in his browser, but this was… this was a million times better.

“Kakashi! I see you’ve met my brother!” Asuma all but shouted, slinging an arm around his interest’s shoulder.

It took everything in Kakashi not to scoff.

“He looks nothing like you,” Kakashi said bluntly, in pure disbelief that he’d be attracted to anyone related to Asuma. Asuma was about as far from his type as you could get. A loudmouth, grizzly jock, who ironically didn’t give a shit about his health, if his diet and terrible smoking habit were any indication.

“Yeah, well, he wouldn’t,” Asuma said, yanking his supposed brother’s neck to his chest, whose face flushed with embarrassment as Asuma rubbed his knuckles against his scalp. “He’s my adopted brother.”

The Sokka look-a-like gave Kakashi a weak smile beneath Asuma’s headlock.

“He’s a newbie. A freshman. Ain’t that right, ‘Ru?” Asuma said, letting him go.

“It’s my first year here, yes.” Asuma’s brother said, meeting Kakashi’s gaze for a second, before flicking his eyes down, smoothing out his costume. He readjusted his ponytail, giving Kakashi an opportunity to check out his biceps. Oof.

“I’ve been trying to get him to hang out with us forever, but he’s too busy with chess club and being…”—Kurenai walked by, derailing Asuma completely— “…gay…”

“Being gay? I’m too busy being gay?” Asuma’s brother deadpanned.

“Yeah, you know…” Asuma said, still staring at Kurenai. “You’re part of that organization or alliance or whatever… hey..” he said, bringing his attention back to them for a second. “I’ll be back.”

Yeah right, Kakashi thought, before Asuma left the both of them standing there. He wasn’t about to complain though; he could get back to flirting now, especially since he knew his interest was attracted to men.

“It must take up all your time. Being gay,” Kakashi teased.

“Yeah, my whole life really,” the younger man rolled his eyes with a laugh.

It was such a fascinating, genuine sound. It was full of warmth. Kakashi wanted to wrap himself up in it.

“Uh, Ru was it?” Kakashi asked, needing to know the name of the man he was quickly coming to adore.

The man blushed profusely, scratching at the scar that cut across his nose.

Shit. That was not helping.

“Ah. T-that’s a nickname. It’s Iruka.”

Iruka. Hm.

“Kakashi, if you didn’t catch it earlier.”

“It was hard not to with my brother’s dulcet tone,” Iruka said, sarcastically.

It was Kakashi’s turn to dissolve into laughter.

—

“I should… go home,” Iruka said, standing up from the couch, only to sway a bit. Kakashi placed a steadying hand on Iruka’s hip, before standing up himself.

“Uh, Iruka. You’re a little drunk.”

They had played a partnered game of beer pong (which Kakashi was excellent at, and Iruka well… Iruka tried), before settling into the couch to chat. That was over an hour ago.

Iruka swiveled towards him, bringing their faces a little too close for comfort. Kakashi tried to keep his eyes off Iruka’s lips.

“Am not,” Iruka protested.  

“Iruka, your eyes are so glassy, I could drink from them.”

They stared at each other for an awkward moment, as Kakashi wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole, before Iruka burst out laughing.

“That was weird as hell. How—what. Was that a pun on the word glass or were you saying you could literally suck liquid from my eyes beca—”

“Okay, I get it.” Kakashi cringed, feeling his cheeks heat up. “It was weird. I-I don’t know why I said that. It just happened. Will you,”—Kakashi took a deep breath—“let me walk you home? Please?”

Kakashi rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious. This damn fleece costume was making him sweat beneath Iruka’s stare.

Iruka huffed out another laugh, stifled by the way he was biting into his bottom lip.

“Okay.”

—

When they made it out to the sidewalk, Iruka appeared a little lost.

“What dorm are you living in?” Kakashi asked, as Iruka scrutinized a particularly large tree.

“Uzushio”

“It’s that way,” Kakashi pointed.

“I… knew that,” Iruka said, changing direction. “I was just… admiring nature…”

“Mhm. Sure.” Kakashi quipped, not believing him for a second.

Kakashi watched as Iruka not-so-gracefully began to walk, sparking an idea to pop into his head.

“Wanna ride me?” Kakashi asked, looking Iruka dead in the eyes with an impossibly straight face.

Iruka tripped over nothing, blushing all the way to his ears.

“E-excuse me?”

Kakashi knew what he said, and how he said it. It was completely worth it. He got the reaction he wanted. It was payback for Iruka embarrassing the hell out of him earlier—stupid glassy eyes comment.

“Do you want a ride? On my back?” Kakashi asked, innocently. “You look like you’re gonna fall over.”

Iruka studied him for a moment, his face scrunched up in contemplation. It looked like he was struggling to connect with the last of his brain cells.

“Stop overthinking it,” Kakashi laughed. “You look like you’re going to combust. Come on,” Kakashi said, bending his knees, offering his back.

There was a few seconds of hesitation before he heard Iruka move behind him.

“I’m heavy,” Iruka protested.

“I can handle you.”

He heard Iruka sputter.

Really, it was too easy.

“Do you need help getting yourself up Iruka?” Kakashi taunted him, which resulted in a sharp tug on his costume’s tail.

“Shut up,” Iruka said, hopping on top of him. He yanked the hood over Kakashi’s head in retribution.

“Hey,” Kakashi laughed, as he pushed himself to stand. “That’s covering my eyes. The whole point of me accompanying you home, is so that you get there safely.”

Iruka felt a wave of heat wash over him, as his crush increased tenfold.

“I-I wanted the full effect,” Iruka said, tugging on one of the plush horns, before he smoothed the hood back to Kakashi’s forehead, away from his eyes.

The real reason he pulled that damn hood up was because he needed a barrier between his face and Kakashi’s bare neck, lest he sunk his teeth into it.

Iruka smashed a smile into Kakashi’s shoulder, encircling his arms around Kakashi’s neck, before he picked up his head and said—

“Yip yip.”

—

Iruka woke up the next morning to find his facebook page blowing up.

Someone, a random girl apparently, had taken a picture of Iruka being carried on Kakashi’s back last night with a caption that read:

Cutest couples costume ever!!!

Asuma had tagged him.

#kakairu #prompt #hatake kakashi/umino iruka #kakairu fanfic #my work #i wish i had talent bc i need kakashi in this appa suit #my fic

[swimmingnewsie]

Cookies and Coffee (Chapter 3)

Hi guys! Half of this is in fact a reupload. The other half was going to be its own chapter until I realized that the two worked better as a whole chapter. So like Sonic 3 and Knuckles, I put the two together in a comprehensive pair. So if you read the last chapter and felt it a little incomplete- this should be the remedy to that!

Please enjoy!

Link to Chapter 1 Link to Chapter 2 Link to AO3

---"...And she's taking her to dinner tomorrow night! I told you they would be perfect for each other!" Anna gloated. 

Kristoff gave her a half-smile. "Alright, you were right. Now scrub up and send Jake home. He's on drive-through."

"So you admit it! Ha!" Anna smiled back at him before giving him a fake salute. “To drive-though! Sir, yes, sir!” 

Kristoff's smile remained as she ran off, sending her co-worker home. Soon enough her voice rang through his headset. "Afternoon, everyone! How is it going?" She was always so kind and sweet to everyone, even if they didn't deserve it, standing up to the meanest customers with the kindest smiles. She would make a good trainer one day or even a shift manager if she wanted it. 

"Can I get a 10-4 from everyone here?" Kristoff asked over the set after Anna's question was generally answered. Slowly the four other employees chimed in, ready for instructions. "Everybody okay where they are right now?" There was another set of agreements. "Alright, hold down the fort, I'm gonna count tills and the do food pull. Kirsti, if front isn't busy, knock out some of the dish pile. Call me if it gets desperate."

"10-4!" Anna cheerfully said before responding to the order in the headset. "Thanks for choosing Mermaid's Siren! What can I get started for you today?"

Kristoff couldn't help but blush as he walked to the back. Even with the most basic script, her voice was melodic, dragging him in like the siren they worked for. He shook his head, redirecting his attention. He couldn't let himself think of her that way, not right now. Not only would it be an HR paperwork disaster, but it wasn't the right time. It was far too soon.

It had barely been four months since Elsa called him in desperation for him and his truck. He thought she was insane. She had asked him to drive with her to Denver- twenty hours of driving straight. Why would any person make a twenty hour drive that could easily be done in a two hour flight if she only waited a few days? The answer: Anna was in danger. Elsa couldn’t wait three days.

She had received pictures from her sister obviously hiding in a closet, a gun visible on the floor. Another photo of her bruised and bloodied face. Then a video with Hans yelling loudly, asking where his dumb slut of a fiance was and how he was going to kill her for what she did. Anna couldn’t call the cops- Hans was one of them after all. They would never believe that he was capable of such violence.

Elsa had called cops a county over, praying for the best and texting her sister the entire time. But the faster she got there the better. Twenty hours of driving was faster than three days of waiting, uncertain of her sister’s safety. She couldn’t lose Anna. Not again. 

They were there in sixteen hours.

When they pulled up to the house, cops from several counties over were still there investigating and talking. Some defended Hans saying that Anna was being dramatic and that he wouldn’t shoot the gun in her house on purpose, while others remained impartial and stuck to the facts they knew: there was a gunshot, there was a bloodied and panicked woman inside, there were previous reports of potential domestic violence from this house. The foreign officers won out, sending Hans to the police station and away from the house. Kristoff was forever grateful for those cops who fought for her. They were the reason she was still with them.

He doesn’t even want to imagine a future where Hans had been allowed to reenter the home. 

The next two days were a blur of courtrooms, attorneys, and judges. Anna had been granted a temporary restraining order. This wasn't the end, but it was enough. They grabbed as many of her possessions as she could fit in his truck. It was a haphazard job, but that didn’t matter. Anna was safe. Anna would be okay.

Kristoff shuddered, remembering that awful day. The feeling of fear, the scent of blood on Anna’s clothes, the panic in Elsa’s eyes. And for as much as it affected him, he knew it was a thousand times worse for Anna. Though she was bubbly now, he remembered the ghostly look in her eyes the first few weeks, the way she wouldn’t let anyone aside from Elsa touch her for a month. 

This wasn’t the time for romantic gestures.. He couldn’t do that to her. She was hurt and needed to heal. She trusted him, and he was not about to take advantage of that trust. Anna was his friend above all else, even if his own feelings were squashed in the process.

So he would keep quiet, let other romantic interests pique his curiosity. 

And Ryder certainly did that. Whenever the young man came in after his workouts, Kristoff couldn’t help but stare at him, muscles swollen and flexed. He was handsome, and Kristoff would be lying if he said he didn’t think about him outside of work sometimes: kissing him, touching him, holding him. Even beyond the physical, his love for animals and beautiful craftsmanship made him weak in the knees. Last Christmas, he had made all of the baristas small wooden trinkets as gifts. He made Kristoff a bear and irony aside it was his most prized possession.

Maybe he should take a page from Anna’s book a leave his phone number on his cup. He laughed softly to himself; he had even thought of a cheesy pickup line to go with it. “This drink is sweet, but you’re even sweeter.” He never understood the man’s fascination for the sweet frappes- he was a bodybuilder after all; shouldn’t that conflict with everything he did? But day in and day out, he was still glad to see him even if he had questionable taste in “coffee”. His golden smile could perk up any rough shift.

Kristoff felt himself drift into his thoughts again. Visions of the two of them dancing passed by. The lighting was soft and the music even softer. Some old folk song from his parents’ time played, and they swayed. Their dogs were lying on the couch, Sven happily watching while Nokk slept on like the tired bastard he was.

“Kristoff, I need you.” It was almost like he could actually hear Ryder saying it.

His heart warmed, and he imagined Ryder kissing his lips softly, imagined what he might taste like, imagined the way their skin felt against each other.

“Kristoff, I know you’re counting money, but we need you pronto!”

... except that wasn’t Ryder speaking. That was Anna.

Shit.

He shook his head and reoriented himself. He was at work. He was counting the day’s money. His crew was getting slammed out front. 

“I’m on my way.”

There would be time for dreaming later. 

---

Clunk!

A few days later, the sound of metal being dropped in front of him pulled Kristoff out of his stupor. The cafe had been quiet tonight, allowing some down time. They were caught up on tasks for once: no dishes needed doing, all the registers they could count were counted, and the bar was clean. In that time, Kristoff had caught himself watching the customers in the cafe. Well one particular customer: Ryder.  

“Anna, what are you doing?”

She had that glint in her eyes that he didn’t trust in the slightest. A french press was pushed in front of him, along with an array of snacks.

“I’m not doing anything,” she said, adding coffee grounds to the pitcher. “However, you are giving a coffee tasting. Here is your blonde roast. Here are some lemon bars. I’ll finish up the dark roast. All you need to do is grab some pumpkin loaf and bring it to your boy over there.”

“What on Earth are you talking about? Ryder hates coffee. You know that. I know that. He's going to hate it. I don’t think that man’s ever ordered anything with less than 20 grams of sugar here.”

“And you are about to fix that. And your customer-connection score.” Those stupid scores that their district manager Yelena was obsessed with. It made him fume. Even if he didn't have the lowest individual score in the store, he would have thought they were stupid. He was the fastest barista; he could get all his tasks done far ahead of schedule of the other closing team. Why did matter how frequently smiled at customers or made eye contact? Eighty percent of them were just hoping he’d mess up so they could yell at him and get a free drink anyway.

Kristoff sighed. “But Ryder already tolerates me? What’s the point?”

“You need practice. Go. Make a coffee lover out of that boy.” Anna shoved her finger into his back, pushing him towards the cafe. “Or a regular lover,” she said under her breath. 

“Says the girl whose only coffee tasting was her first day of training.” He gave her a good hard eye roll, but it made her grin seeing him sigh once again before taking over the tray. “This isn’t going to work.” He wandered over to Ryder’s table anyway.

Anna was happy he was trying again. She had known about his less than pleasant dealings with love before they met. She had heard the stories in passing from Elsa when she talked of their early friendship. The girls who wouldn’t give him a chance because they thought he was secretly gay. The boys who turned him away for “actual gay men”. The woman he had been with for three years before deciding that he wasn’t enough for her. It broke her heart.

That’s why she wanted this so badly for him. 

Kristoff deserved love, no matter what he said. And just like with her sister, all he needed was a little push. If she was lucky, then Ryder could give that to him.

He could give it to her in a way she couldn’t.

Kristoff was wonderful. He was sweet and kind, even if he could be abrasive with customers. He was a no nonsense kind of guy. The kind of guy that the old Anna could have fallen in love with in a minute’s notice.

But that’s how Hans had been too, and look how that turned out. 

Anna couldn’t let herself be vulnerable, not again. It had nearly gotten her killed last time. So no matter how nice Kristoff was or how good he was with his dog or how well he took care of her, she couldn’t let herself love him. Not now. 

But finding him someone in Ryder? It felt right.

Anna halfway watched the coffee tasting, the other half keeping her focus on the occasional order that came in. She giggled silently to herself as Kristoff told him of the prospect of drinking coffee black. It was something that almost made her gag her first day too. But it was quite the exercise in taste, one that was easily bonded over. Ryder played along nicely it seemed. She didn’t seem him spit out any of the coffee, timidly drinking it to appease Kristoff. It was cute. 

A small rush pulled her away from the scene before she could see the ending of their tasting. But when Kristoff came back, there was certainly something different. He wrote out a medium cup and added it to her queue before taking over the registers for her.

“Raspberry mocha for Ryder!” 

He did it. Anna didn’t think it made Ryder a coffee lover yet, but this was the first time he ever ordered actual coffee. She didn’t get to ask Ryder himself about this particular decision, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he did to get from the scrunched up face to a full on espresso beverage.That must have been one hell of a coffee tasting.

“I’m assuming by the latte, the tasting went well,” she asked teasingly. 

Kristoff ignored her, shaking his head. Then he pulled out a note from his apron. It was a phone number and a quick message.

If I have to try your coffee, you’re coming to play ball at the gym with me. Friday - 7PM. 

XOXO 

Ryder

Anna was two for two now, and she couldn’t have been happier.

#frozen #frozen fanfic #rydoff #kristanna #frohana #my fic #I LIKE THIS VERSION A LOT BETTER #PLEASE LOVE ME

[bigskydreaming]

For the fic ask meme, 4, 16, 24, or 28

I will answer 16 now, because No Reason, Just Whimsy, but stay tuned as I’ll probably end up answering 4, 24 and 28 at some point anyway, because like. No Reason, Just Whimsy. *Shrugs*

16.  If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

I can’t tell you, see, because I would simply make that one pairing endgame and everything else leading up to it like, contain all the other ships I could not bear to be without. (Hahahaha this is why I could never be a romance author, I can not abide by the rules of HEA or HFN in relationship stories to save my LIFE). So, y’know, SPOILERS.

No but also I’m completely aware that this is cheating and not the point of the question. But I can not choose though, that is the point, like, have you met me? I am the original poster child for ADHD. I’m THAT old.

So instead I will simply say that in the realm of Teen Wolf, Scanny is very very very important to me, which like, surprises no one. But also I would still fight someone who tried to take either Scira or Scallison from me, I remain obnoxiously fond of Scackson’s potential, and I’m still out here being like, the sole Scosh (Scott/Josh Diaz) shipper in all the land, I’m pretty sure, lmfao. 

And I mean, also there’s Scyle, of course. I could never give up the Scyle.

As far as Marvel goes, like, I am going to be riding the high of Bobby/Christian being canon for quite some time, as anyone who has known me long knows that I have been shipping this ship since Christian was first introduced and then written offstage like two issues later….seventeen years ago.

(I have a lot of issues with straight writers making gay characters’ gay-specific tragedies and traumas like….someone ELSE’S angsty back story, while they themselves are just shuffled off the page and considered irrelevant. For those who don’t know, Christian is Emma Frost’s gay older brother who she adored and when their father had Christian institutionalized against his will because he was gay, this was what made Emma break away from the rest of her family for good and set her on the road to becoming the White Queen of the Hellfire Club. 

And then, despite like, this being life-defining for her, not a single writer in the next fifteen damn years ever thought to ask themselves…..hmmm, why would Emma Frost, one of the most powerful telepaths in the world and someone whose personal morality in no way makes her above using those powers, her wealth or Hellfire resources however she damn well pleases in the name of protecting herself, those she cares about, and advancing her agendas…..why would this woman who has never let anything stand in the way of what she cares about before like….simply just…never once in all the years since she was a teenager think to herself….hmm, what if I simply go to the institution where my beloved brother is kept against his will, and just…..made them release him?)

So, aside from always thinking Bobby/Christian would be a great ship with amazing potential given Bobby’s unique history and dynamic with Christian’s sister and the fact that Christian shares a lot of the same traits, backstory and other elements that make Emma an amazing and multi-faceted character and he’s just been sitting there in Limbo for fifteen years with all this untapped potential just waiting to be mined….

I’m always going to be gleeful about this ship and with a special fondness for Sina Grace for bringing Christian back from comic book Limbo and laying the foundation for this ship, like, just because like……I feel its long overdue and the only way to ACTUALLY make anything decent out of the bullshit that was mining his oppression for the sake of another character’s angst: by finally giving HIM the chance to be a character who is affected by all that, developed and moved forward from all of that, is the FOCUS of all that…..and even more importantly, now after being left offscreen for fifteen years by writers who considered his narrative nothing more than tragic filler….he finally has a chance to be an example of a gay character who gets to come BACK from all of that and move FORWARD from it, and like…find healing and happiness with another character, like Bobby.

So Bobby/Christian is actually hugely important to me for a variety of reasons, especially right now since this is all just happening recently, and I will love them forever and in defiance of the inevitable bullshit some future writer pulls that will piss me the hell off. Y’know, just going off of Vegas odds or whatever.

Aside from Bobby/Christian I’ve also always had a weakness for Bobby/Johnny Storm because they are the most iconic ice and fire characters out there and I am basically twelve. I also have blogged at length in the past about all the reasons I’m a huge fan of Bobby/Bishop and not just because their ship name would make them a literal bop. Again, I refer you to the thing where I’m basically twelve. But yeah, there’s a whole history there where when Bishop first came back into the past and met the X-Men who’d all been legends in his time, he kinda fanboyed a little over Bobby because of Bobby’s future legend, and then was kinda like….oh, that’s it? about him once he got to know Bobby and Bishop became like, the physical embodiment of underwhelmed. 

And ever since then Bobby’s always low key been like, a hyper-active puppy around Bishop, like, trying not to SEEM like he cares an awful lot about whether or not he’s managed to impress Bishop but because he can’t be subtle to save his life, mostly just coming across as “am I living up to the hype now? how about now? am I legendary NOW? What about now?” and I dunno. Its just kinda cute and a fairly unique dynamic, and Bishop has this deliberately bland, blink and you miss it sense of humor with the right writers and that I’ve always thought has a ton of potential for him to be privately amused by this tendency of Bobby’s, enough that he’s unwilling to confess to him that Bobby actually earned his respect years ago by this point, and he just doesn’t want to let Bobby know because then he’d stop. 

And then in terms of DC, I’ve posted a lot a lot a loooooooooot about my love for Dick/Kory in canon, and how they - and by extension we - were robbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbed, and if DC doesn’t give me my canon Mar’i and Jake Grayson one of these days, I don’t care if they have to import them from another universe and then have this universe’s Dick and Kory awkwardly try to co-parent them while living their own lives separately before finally coming back together and falling in love all over again and then becoming a single united family unit forever and ever in the most ridiculously complicated comic book version of the Parent Trap ever, like…..

I can’t even think of an over-exaggerated threat creative enough to convey just how badly I want and need this, DC, give it to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee plzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

And then also, I’ve actually posted a lot a lot a loooooooooooot (though not in a few years, probably, so those posts are all super old, lol) about how I think Kyle and Donna are a criminally under-rated canon couple and were actually really really good together because they went through so much together and Kyle literally grew so much as a character specifically on the things Donna called him out for the first time they dated, like, literally so he could be BETTER, and then with how anticlimactically they ended...because the thing is, they never actually even broke up! It was this thing where like, when Donna went to LA with Kyle for his high school reunion and to literally MEET HIS MOM, like HELLO, that is not a basic relationship step, that is Advanced Dating, like…..that is where they were at in their relationship when Donna literally got the call then and there that her ex-husband and her son had just died in a car accident. 

And Donna was devastated of course, and Kyle was devastated too - for her, and also in his own way, because he’d adored Robert and like, there were these issues where they were super cute and took him to the zoo together and Kyle was bonding with him and just like, melting over this kid, and Robert and Terry were killed by a drunk driver, and like, there was a later story where Kyle just went apeshit on this drunk driver he encountered because he had all these repressed feelings about Robert’s death and how it had hurt Donna and he’d made sure not to show any of that to her or even let on that he hurt for Robert’s loss in his own way, because he didn’t want to make it about him, he KNEW better…

And anyway, the point is…they never actually broke up in the sense of either of them at any point being all, oh we no longer love each other or think this can work, we need to end it. Instead, Donna said that she needed to take some time away from Kyle and everyone else and just…come to terms with what she’d lost and figure out who she even was now in the wake of that….and Kyle totally understood, didn’t argue or try and change her mind, he just said take as much time as you need, I’ll be here when you’re ready, and oh btw, here’s this lantern construct of a locket that I want you to keep because as long as it exists you’ll know that a part of me is still thinking about you and wanting you to be happy, wherever that is.

And then like…..less than a year later, DC did their super weird Dark Angel story where Donna was erased from reality and then had to be ‘recreated’ from Wally’s memories, and for awhile just existed in the form and identity she’d been recreated from, which was based entirely on what Wally knew of her and thought and felt about her, and so there were huge gaps in her identity where she was missing stuff she should have known but didn’t now because WALLY didn’t know about it.

Such as how when Donna met Kyle’s subsequent sorta-girlfriend Jade some time later - I say sorta because she and Kyle were still figuring things out at that stage, and Jenny-Lynn in part didn’t know if she wanted to actually get into a relationship with him because she thought he was still in love with Donna - well anyway, when Donna and Jenny-Lynn met in a later issue and she said all this to Donna, Donna reassured her not to worry about it, she was reading more into it than actually existed because she and Kyle had never been that serious anyway. 

Which. SCREECH! Brakes please. HOLD UP. 

Like, I’m sorry JAY FAERBER YES I REMEMBER IT WAS YOU WHO WROTE THAT ISSUE UGGGGGH, but like, in what UNIVERSE is “dated, broke up, then got back together later because she thought Kyle had matured a ton since they first tried dating and now they were so much stronger as a couple that she oh I dunno, introduced him to her son and they went on playdates together, went with him to meet his mom, had a never-vanishing lantern locket construct that signified just how much he would always love her” uh…..’never been that serious anyway’? I’m. What? Does not compute.

BUT WHATEVER.

LOL. Anyway, point is, so things like that actually make sense when you factor in the role Wally’s memories and perspective played in who Donna literally WAS for awhile (and the understandable existential crises she went through as a result). But like, at the point in time when Kyle and Donna were most serious, Kyle was still fairly removed from a lot of the rest of the DC universe, he wasn’t a core member of the JLA yet and usually operated independently, and he and Wally were NOT close at all yet, let alone friends….in fact, for as long as Donna and Kyle dated, Wally pretty much still actively hated and resented Kyle for just existing, since he’d always been close with Hal since he was a kid and Hal was his Uncle Barry’s BFF-and-homosexual-life-partner-in-all-but-name. 

Like, it was only after Kyle became one of the core JLA alongside Wally that the two of them finally worked out their mutual antagonism and became friends, but before that, Wally was NOT shy about expressing he hated this new GL guy and wanted nothing to do with him, even though it was for unfair reasons, sooooo……like, its not really that shocking that even though Wally and Donna are two of each other’s oldest friends and super tight, like, he was never going to be the friend she called up to let him know how great things were going with her and Kyle these days, lol, y’know?

So it makes sense that when Donna was first magically reconstituted thanks to Wally’s memories/view of her (btw, this was because Wally was out of phase with reality and was in the Speed Force at the precise moment that Donna was erased from reality by the Dark Angel’s magic, and that’s why he alone remembered her and was the template for undoing what the Dark Angel had done). But anyway, it makes sense that she would for a time have had very little memory or even knowledge of her and Kyle’s prior relationship, and basically just know/remember what little Wally actually knew of it. So from her perspective then, it could very well have seemed that they were never that serious, and everyone but Kyle like….kinda just nodded and figured okay, you would know after all, and just…..everyone ended up walking away with the idea that they were just this brief fling and neither had ever had strong feelings for each other, let alone love.

The problem I’ve always had is that eventually Donna DID regain her full memories and her own sense of self, and like….she was Donna again, through and through, existing as she always had without being limited to just Wally’s view or memory of her.

Soooo, at THAT point, she should have been perfectly aware of what her and Kyle’s relationship had ACTUALLY looked like, in its entirety, and I mean, I can understand them not getting back together at that point. It’d been years, they both were in very different places, Kyle had eventually gotten together with Jade after it was expressed by Donna herself that there was no reason not to, given that its not like they were ever that serious….so by the time Donna herself would have realized otherwise, I can totally understand her feeling that the moment had passed for them, that Kyle had moved on (just as Kyle had only ‘moved on’ once he felt there was no longer a chance of them returning to what they were). Like, all of that is super weird and complicated even by ridiculous comic book soap opera standards, so I mean….lol, how do you even BEGIN that conversation, y’know?

Buuuuuut, it just kinda sucks that at no point after that Faerber issue has any later writer ever had either Donna or Kyle discuss their previous relationship(s) in terms of what it ACTUALLY was, for BOTH of them, rather than just this trivial, ancient history fling that neither had ever been super invested in….even though for several years in the nineties they were one of THE major hero couples in comic books.

So. Yeah. As evidenced, I have a lot of unresolved Donna and Kyle feelings lol.

And then of course, there are and always will be my epic “OMG DICK AND KYLE COULD BE THE GREATEST SHIP AND END ALL THE SHIPS LIKE COULD YOU EVEN IMAGINE” feelings, but like. That’s a thirty pound tome in and of itself, so. Like. Just picture the two of them standing staring soulfully into each other’s eyes and then me, creepily fixated on them twenty feet away, chin propped up on my hands and going awwwwwwww while my own eyes like, sparkle anime style but also are the heart-eyes motherfucker meme at the same time.

[charismastaticarchive]

manuela hc:

the grande dame : an exploration of lgbt/camp tropes and anime jokes leading to a complex and likable portrayal of a modern day stock tropes.’

the grande dame is a stock trope of Older Women who represent the stuffy, uppity matronly upper class to comedic effect. 

from the tvtropes page  : ‘they are usually a spinster or widow’ (such as manuela is Forever Unlucky In Love) and if they are married they will be a patron of the arts that drags her husband to operas, even more cultured than the ‘prima donna’ (which manuela was implied to be in the past, but has grown past to become a highly educated professor healer and warrior in addition to her talents in theatre). when the grande dame does have a sympathetic streak, they tend to be an oddball themself (like manuela). she can be a ‘moral guardian’ (and manuela’s skills are in faith magic and she does believe in the goddess), but failing their duty towards ‘respectability’ they turn to drink. (which sounds exactly like manuela).

we could just say that manuela was thus a complicated prima donna that gave up the theatre and turned to drink after aging out of her youthful beauty, into a grande dame figure. certainly, if you look at examples of the grande dame in classical literature, it seems to be a very open-and-shut stock caricature played completely for comedic effect, as does manuela’s whininess and flirtatious milf/cougarness and ‘well i never!’ esque tone. (and she certainly does seem to turn to drink for that very reason.)

but why would u ever compare an OPERA SINGER to classic literature when u could instead compare her to the stage and screen? she’s an actress with a theatrical personality. and that’s where the lgbt readding comes in, as well as why so many lgbt people are attached to manuela, and characters like manuela, in my opinion.

the grande dame has a storied history with the lgbt community. first and foremost, in western society, there was a long history where only men could be actors (this was true in many other places of course, but we’re focusing on the west as manuela’s characterization is mostly focused on western tropes). 

matronly older women characters played for comedic effect (such as the nurse in romeo&juliet, among other such classic roles), were thus played by men in drag. but the tradition of drag for matronly older women in theatre continued long after, to the point where the ‘pantomine dame’ is a storied character/trope in british pantomine---noted for its camp and ‘over the top’ performances, and the tradition continued across the sea in vaudeville drag performances---where lgbt people could graduate from grande dame roles to primma donnas in starring roles as women themselves, regardless of their assigned gender.

after the decline of the vaudeville era BECAUSE of its connection to the lgbt community (and sex work) during the prohibition/”progressive” era, the grande dame (and the inherent camp/gay sensibility of an older woman) did not just STOP EXISTING in the consciousness of western people, and especially not western lgbt people.

no, instead, the grande dame evolved into a still classically camp (over the top, out of place) but a character ever-more entangled in other classic tropes for tough/fierce/unhinged/dramatic women, that we still can see traces of today in every genre that lgbt people are attracted to.

from horror (whatever happened to baby jane and the 'hagsploitation’ that followed it) to musicals (mama rose in ‘rose’s turn’ is literally my tag for manuela but also cats the musical’s ‘memories’ could basically be the benevolent/sad grande dame mood), to fairy tales and children’s stories (Mother Gothel from tangled tho u could make a case for every disney woman villain and also scar as being one tbh, but also mia’s mother in a princess diaries is definitely one, and so is professor macgonagall), to spy dramas (judi dench), to biopics (from joan crawford to every queen pretty much ever) alllll the way back around to drag again (if you’ve ever watched drag race? half the winning snatch games are dames lol). to basically everything ryan murphy has ever done in his whole damn life, especially with Mother Jessica Lange.

the grande dame’s mean strictness and spite has come to represent a trapping for her secret vulnerability/softness (which is the source of her beauty), something lgbt people in particular can relate to as they have to hide their self/love from a world. the camp grande dame is almost always obsessed with beauty and age (so much of our community can’t picture getting old---or doesn’t want to, with many people being deathly afraid of hair loss due to hormones, etc. and then when it comes to attractiveness, attractiveness is often our measure of worth especially in the trans and gay sector, where ‘passing’ or ‘masculinity’ is viewed as a shorthand for ‘respectability’---and so many of us judge each other so harshly based on looks.) but more than anything, the grande dame is always LONELY, or alone, whether it be from being the best/most powerful/rich (and it’s lonely at the top), or in imposed exile due to her age/lack of beauty, the terrible things she’s done, the grande dame is almost always a metaphor for lgbt loneliness.

manuela’s characterization very much abides by these classic camp/gay sensibilities (as well as the classic ones). the modern day gay reading of the grande dame is a much more textured and layered one---but often, grande dames such as they done by judi dench in the 007 movies, or even ryan murphy using jessica lange in the politician---are still objectified by the male gaze with either sexual jokes, or as being made ‘more’ OR ‘less’ than human.... because the grande dame is such a stock trope (even when more complicated by Us Gays), the grande dame is either hypercompetent (in the case of litcherally all of judi dench’s characters or julie andrews’ characters, a Badass Older Woman who is not allowed to be anything more Than Tough And Perfect even when she is in a frenzied huff) or, on the other side of the coin, a complete and total joke or a sob story or picture of an abuser (or all three at once), such as in the case of All Jessica Lange’s Ryan Murphy Characters. Please God Let This Woman Be Free Of Ryan Murphy’s Clutches.

manuela, to me, represents an interesting figure in the Grand Canon of Grande Dames. 

because while she is in every way an anime character---she represents a trope in anime we don’t see often. there are not a lot of older women characters in anime, and when they are---they are usually mid-20s maximum, or they are Sexually Dominant Women, extremely strong and competent women that Can And Will Beat Your Ass ( such as in the case of tsunade from naruto OR lotus from 999, etc). manuela is, thankfully, neither of these.

while fe3h presents manuela as a joke---like classic grande dames were presented as jokes,  the way that manuela is presented, is as an ANIME character with ANIME jokes to people who are ALL familiar at this point with anime jokes, and we are able to relate to her more on a human level than we would relate to the fussy, bitter, overly loquacious grande dames of literature.

the average anime gamer can’t relate to a jane austen biddy talking to you about how the man you are dating is not of marriagable status, and does not think that is funny. but the average anime gamer WILL see you give manuela a porn magazine she thinks is ‘very valuable’ and chuckle a bit to themselves.

but more than that---the game really wants you to LIKE manuela. it makes her relatable to the average gamer who hasn’t cleaned their room in weeks---that sometimes will eat food off the floor, that likes to sing a little too loudly and who feels lonely sometimes (or always).

and even more than any of that, instead of presenting manuela as an UGLY or evil old woman, or an abuser, or an extremely rich woman, and in presenting manuela instead as so very likable and funny, it presents manuela as someone who looks and acts desirable as a friend (and a lover). manuela is a grande dame who is not only sympathetic---she’s human AND FLAWED, just like you, even when her behavior is all jokes and huffiness.

you WANT to be manuela’s friend. you WANT to look deeper into manuela as a person and not a trope---even though she is OBJECTIVELY made up of anime jokes and stock character tropes!

and so this game ends up painting a picture of a lonely woman, a woman who considers herself weak, a woman who is messy, and funny, and loud, who fights (and sometimes is bested by those who are stronger than her)--who pushes other women out of the way to get ahead, but still loves children, who still wants (and deserves) to be loved. even tho most of this information, as manuela relays it to you, is viewed as comedic.

and as manuela is not painted as the grande dame who is a villain---as she is painted so beautifully and theatrically in opera tropes---you can really and truly see her as the star of her own show, a lovely woman trying to live her life the best she can in an adult world that is hard and cruel. just like you are, regardless of ur gender, age, or sexuality.

and from that point of understanding manuela as the grande dame, u can extrapolate manuela in ur own tropes that view her as more human and Deep---and in my opinion, most powerfully, that she is a bisexual woman and hopeless romantic that is most interested in ‘princely’/strong women types. but that’s a hc post for another day.

manuela is THE SUPREME ANIME GRANDE DAME and that anime recontextualization makes her a much better representation of older women than western canon grande dames, the end, send tweet.

#{ ooc: hc } #theres a seperate post here about how some drag that stemmed from vaudeville also stemmed from minstrelsy #stares at r/p/d/r. but we're not gonna TALK about that queens. this is a classic literature ONLY post lmfao #its so funny how so many grande dames are just like real ass people. gays will see a rich woman and go 'I STAN' #{ ch: starting now it's gonna be my turn ; taking bows for me | manuela } #{ hc: starting now it's gonna be my turn ; taking bows for me | manuela }

[sheepsandcattle]

Chapter 5

When his parents split up, Curly wasn’t really at home for most of it - not as far as he can remember, at least. He doesn’t even remember crying over it at any point after that one time; the day they sat him down at the kitchen table to explain it all.

He remembers his dad crying though; remembers him smoking in the garden even though he’d never seen him do it before. Remembers spending some time with Brandon, probably to keep him away from the brutality of his old man packing up his things and leaving his home.

He can’t remember how long it was that he stayed with his best friend, but there were countless nights spent whispering under covers, giggling past bedtime and dozing off before they could even say ‘goodnight.’

He remembers forgetting about the things happening at home.

One night at Brandon’s house, Curly had found his mind drifting for the first and only time during his miniature-break down the road, to his parents and their home and the office that was his dad’s and “what will we do with it now? What will we put in there? Where will he go?”

“It’s quite fun, you know,” Brandon had said. “My dad’s house is better colours than mum’s.”

Curls had sighed. “My dad might get lonely.”

Brandon had sounded so sure - had frowned as he said, “no he won’t," like it shouldn’t have needed to be said at all.

“Why not?” He rubbed his eyes; far past their bedtime again, and the heat they’d trapped under the blanket was making him even sleepier.

Brandon shrugged. “Same reason I don’t get lonely,” he explained and placed a hand on Curly’s shoulder that made his friend seem more grown-up than he was a few seconds before.

Brandon smiled like he was too shy to say any more, but he didn’t need to. Curly wasn’t too shy (never was), leaning over to wrap him up in a hug.

***

A few months melt into one another. He’s not sure where a few of the weeks go. Maybe he was sleeping; his body and his brain becoming mutually exclusive for a while.

The ‘being more careful’ thing he promised to Dean isn’t going great due to unforeseen circumstances.

He doesn’t have his rubbish job anymore. Doesn’t like to think about it too much because it makes his head fog up and his jaw ache. That’s what happens when he gets stressed, he’s discovered. Smoking helps calm him.

His manager was kind enough to pay him a week’s notice when she fired him at the beginning of December, even after weeks of coming into work absolutely steaming after late nights, and leaving early when his highs just didn’t wear off right.

She’d said, “enjoy the holidays, Curly. You’ll be alright,” and hugged him goodbye.

He is alright as well. He’s making okay money and he’s brought his mum some bits for her kitchen for Christmas because she has a boyfriend now and he doesn’t love the orange and green theme she has right now.

Curly’s selling all sorts; drugs that even he hasn’t tried and some more that he’s tested for the sake of knowing what he’s talking about. Some he’s dabbled in more than he planned to.

Regardless, it’s all under control, all in the name of a good time and good money and, when Christmas does roll around, he spends it with his mother’s parents, almost perfectly sober with just a little pot in his system to take the edge off.

He applied for some jobs but he hasn’t heard off any of them. Yet. It’s been two weeks since he gave up.

His mum asks if he’s feeling okay when she catches him staring across the table at nothing in particular, but he’s always gotten overwhelmed at family dinners like this, so it’s easily excusable. His grandparents don’t seem to notice; they only used to see him two or three times a year when they’d visit England, so he’s not sure they even know what his natural state is.

He wonders if that’s just what happens when you don’t see a lot of someone, even if you trick yourself into thinking you’ve some kind of unwavering blood-bond with them. He wonders if his grandparents feel a little bit awkward around him just like he does with them, or if it’s different because they’re older and cherish him in a different way entirely.

He wonders if that’s what it will be like with Genie as she continues to grow up without him.

“Gosh, Elliot,” his grandma would say every time they’d meet again. “You’re so handsome” and, “you’re still growing!” He’ll never forget her face when he tried growing stubble just after high school and how she’d said, “oh stop! Stay young forever!”

Now he’s clean-shaven and his skin is as bad as it was when he was fourteen, and his grandmother doesn’t say that he’s handsome today, just that he looks older. He doesn’t feel very handsome; sleepy and achey. Looking older doesn’t feel as good as it used to. It feels like dry skin and shooting pains, cramping jaws and headaches.

He’s with his family though, and he’s happy nonetheless. They look happy too, so it’s all fine.

It’s all fine.

His mum’s buzzing because, thanks to Curls, she’s got a kettle again with a toaster to match and insisted that everyone had a brew after dinner, so his grandparents are in the lounge now, watching the telly with a cup of tea each. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, his mum gives him a haircut -shorter at the sides, neater on the top- whilst Curly chats to her new boyfriend about The Cure. It turns out Dom has great taste and is an all-round really nice guy.

He doesn’t feel so bad now for missing so many of his mum’s calls.

As he walks back into the lounge with his new haircut, his grandma says, “very handsome,” and he feels a bit less trodden down and a bit younger again.

***

And then January is slow and dull and he doesn’t get out of the house much really unless he’s dealing drugs or buying more fags.

He’s not sure when he got so caught up with Jules’ and Oscar’s shit. Not sure when this thing started where he trails behind them while they do deals of their own, or while they huddle in parks and fields and alleyways with dodgy people he doesn’t know to share a hit of whatever it is they fancy that night.

He gets sad sometimes. Lonely like he used to be. Heroin helps; makes everything in the world feel fine. Only in dire situations, though.

Still, January has him caught up in the half-there place. He forgets a lot. Jules gets frustrated because he’s always forgetting the daftest things he says when he’s high. He makes promises he can’t remember when he’s sober, but his roommate is kind - kind enough to let him off the hook for most of the things he owes him these days.

Drugs and money, that is. A few apologies here and there too, after nights cut short thanks to Curly’s weak stomach or empty skull or whatever else it is that demands he goes home immediately.

***

February.

What a blur it is. A girl tries to kiss him outside a club that he doesn’t manage to sneak into because he’s too young or too far gone or a combination of both. He feels shy and weird and says, “sorry love, I’m just a bit drunk,” because he feels too guilty to simply say ‘no.’

Fooled, the girl calls him a gentleman and gives him her number on a receipt but he loses it on the walk home - can’t even remember taking it out of his pocket. Can’t even remember walking home at all. Jules says he tried to smoke it which Curly thinks is fucking hilarious but doesn’t remember it and therefore decides he’s talking bollocks.

February. A Valentines party in his apartment.

Turns out ‘party’ means the usual five-man circle (together again) drinking and smoking and pretending they have an excuse to do it. They’re still laughing about the girl at the club last week, Oscar says, “maybe you’re gay,” but it’s only a joke. He remembers more laughing and drinking and having a good night until Jules offers him a line of coke for free, to sober him up a bit. Jeff says “don’t,” says “slow down,” says “take it as a sign to stop,” but he does anyway. It’s free. He doesn’t remember losing track and overdoing it.

He remembers waking up in Dean and Jeff’s apparent with sick on his top the next day.

Still February. His birthday.

Calling his dad in the morning is hard. Speaking to Genie and crying in his bedroom for some daft reason isn’t nice either. She’s forgot about a World War II project she was meant to do, is breaking her heart about it.

Spending a few hours on google and writing five-hundred words for her and figuring out how to send it in an email because the thought of her standing in front of her class with nowt to say kills him. She says there’s loads of spelling mistakes but she loves the bit about the Spitfires and he’s “the best brother in the world.”

Crying again when he gets off the phone because he’s a mard-arse apparently and he just misses her, alright?

He forgets to call Brandon - again.

He remembers going to a party and flirting with a boy called Robbie. Doesn’t realise he was flirting until he’s remembering later… Almost kissing him, feeling shy and weird, telling him, “I’m sorry love, I’m just a bit drunk,” because he feels guilty - again.

Robbie says “me too, I don’t mind,” but Curly does, so they don’t.

He remembers meeting Jules in the bathroom for another hit that night, hearing two men yelling in a cubicle of a club he cannot remember getting into, and then watching one of them storm out. The guy looks at Jules, dark brows pinched as he drags a hand through near-white hair and says, “the fuck are you looking at, red?” Then he rucks his denim jacket back over his shoulders and shoves past them on his way out.

He doesn’t remember taking the hit, blacking out.

He remembers waking up in Dean and Jeff’s apartment again with a black eye this time. They don’t wanna hang out with Jules anymore. He doesn’t ask why ‘cause he doesn’t wanna know.

The three of them spend the next day together and it finally all slows down.

They watch Trainspotting because Curly hasn’t seen it in ages and Jeff and Dean haven’t seen it at all. Curly remembers that day more than any other that month.

They just talk after the film - no more telly, no music, nothing. They just talk and talk about daft things they’ve all done and said. Silly stories and memories that Curly thinks are happy until he says them out loud and they all seem to make him feel sad.

“You miss England,” Jeff tells him like it’s something Curly really needs to know. He supposes he’s forgotten to acknowledge it recently.

“I miss my family,” he says. Brandon too - misses having a friendship that feels unconditional.

They get weed-high in the evening and all get ‘choose life’ tattoos that same night - Curly’s on his knee, Jeff’s on his shin and Dean’s on his bicep. Curly does Dean’s for him because he can’t get the angle right himself. He panics because it’s wonky but Dean says “it’s perfect.”

“Can I borrow it?” Curly asks, handing the tattoo gun back to his mate.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Jeff answers for Dean, who laughs and adds, “I’ll have to teach you first.”

Curls says, “mint,” because yeah, he supposes it sounds like a better plan than jabbing the needle in and hoping for the best.

Trainspotting is their favourite film now, even though Jeff and Dean struggle to understand the accents and think it’s an ‘inaccurate representation.’

Of Britain or addiction, Curly’s not sure. How would they know, anyway?

Jeff drives him home a little before midnight and Jules is passed out on the sofa with a bag of frozen peas on the ground beside him. His arm hangs over the edge of the couch and his knuckles are bruised but Curly doesn’t ask why because he doesn’t wanna know.

Oscar’s in the kitchen and he says “oh, you’re back,” and pours three mugs of coffee.

“Course I am,” Curly replies and they both hear Jules groan in the living room. His eyes dart towards the door and then back towards Oscar again and he whispers, “have we fallen out?”

Oscar chuckles, shakes his head. “It’s not you, man. Jules just gets like that. Don’t cry ‘bout it.”

He doesn’t know what he’s not crying over, but he nods anyway and, after that, nobody talks about whatever it is that happened the night before.

That evening he calls Brandon and they both (pretend not to) sulk over the phone. Brandon isn’t lonely - says he’s met a girl, and Curly is jealous but he’s happy for him. He doesn’t tell him how lonely it gets here, just tells him the best parts that make Brandon say, “mate, I’m so jealous, but I’m so happy for you,” but it doesn’t sound as sad when Brandon says it as it does when Curly thinks it.

He remembers saying he’s tried, but he can’t remember falling asleep.

#Reading Rules of Attraction honestly helped me understand my OWN writing style so much more wow #ch #ch5 #writing

[ladyloveandjustice]

Winter 2018 Anime Overview: Devilman Crybaby and The Ancient Magus Bride

(the weird symbols in place of punctuation will go away if you click on read more. sorry I cannot fix them).

It’s that time of the season! Time to look back on the anime I watched over the Winter 2018 season and give my thoughts on them. We’ve got at least five anime to get through here. l start out with the two that gave me the most conflicted feelings.

Devilman Crybaby

Devilman Crybaby is a 10-episode anime adaptation of Go Nagai’s 70s manga Devilman, revamped for a modern audience. It was released all at once on Netflix. The story follows a young man named Akira Fudo, a Nice Young Man (tm). His childhood friend Ryo gets him involved in hunting demons and he ends up merging with one! He becomes Devilman, a demon who retains his good human heart. With Ryo at his side, he vows to use his powers for justice and fight the bad demons.

I...watched this for some reason, and I pretty much already did a review  (beware spoilers) and covered my thoughts on it in my liveblog. I didn’t come out exactly a fan of the show overall, but it was an interesting experience at least. I had a fun time looking into the weird history of the franchise and with all the memes. Devilman Crybaby is based on a old, influential manga and there’s a good breakdown of some of the smart adaptation choices the series made here. Probably the thing that a lot of people in my circle talking about it the most is it’s EXTREMELY queer, and while the representation is a mixed bag to say the least, it makes an effort.

Overvall, there’s some cool concepts and arcs in this series, such as the the depictions of Satan and God.There’s also some neat animation and aesthetics, but plotwise it’s uneven with the first half being very weak in the pacing department and the characters were not explored as much as I’d like.

There’s also a lot of badly handled and salaciously framed sexual assault junk as well as gross, exploitative framing of women’s bodies while mens’ bodies are largely left alone. The tired way it deals with sexuality is really boring and standard when you get down to it, rather than “shocking” like it tries to be.

What i really got out of it was I will keep the doomed queer lady couple and carry them in my heart along with the other gay stuff and I will laugh at how Extra Ryo is forever, but in the long run, not much else is memorable and will stick with me.

The Ancient Magus Bride (Episodes 14-22)

Read my review of the first half of the Ancient Magus Bride here!

Hoo boy. There is a lot to unpack with this one. I am going to get pretty detailed with my analysis here, so major spoilers. The TLDR version is: good stuff with Chise’s mom, bad ending episode, read the manga.

Let’s start with the good. We see Chise grow a lot as a character during this second half of the series and there’s a really nice focus on her forming friendships with girls closer to her age. The series shows her building a life outside Elias for herself and she becomes more self-possessed. She and Elias have a lot to teach each other, and they have some refreshingly honest conversations.

The series also doesn’t shy away from depicting Chise’s trauma and shows her grappling with it a lot.. She still places a very low value on herself and feels guilty for relying on others, and Elias calls her out on that. She’s taking steps forward, slowly. Episode 22, probably the strongest episode of the series, deals with the issues she has with her mother and her backstory and there are a ton of cool things there

Chise’s mother attracted monsters in a way similar to Chise does, and when her husband abandoned her, she struggled to both support and protect herself and Chise. It was near impossible task considering all the things trying to kill them and her desperation eventually led to a complete breakdown, where she tried to strangle Chise and lessen her burden. When she snapped out of it, she was so horrified at what she’d done, she committed suicide.

Chise takes a deep dive into her memories and comes to the realization the “mother” that has haunted her all this time was a version of her mother she herself constructed in her head based on her mother’s worst moment, a mother who wants her dead. But her mother didn’t actually want that in the end, otherwise she wouldn’t have let go of Chise or hated herself for what she did. Her mother, like any human, was not just one emotion or one moment, she was a fragile and flawed person who really did care for Chise before she broke down. Chise recognizes that now.

But, and this is the key, and what really made this episode work for me: Chise explicitly does not forgive her mother. Her mother is complex and more than just that one act, but that doesn’t mean that one act can be overlooked, or is any less scarring for Chise. She crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed, and Chise doesn’t have to forgive that to move on. Her mother abandoned her and now she has a new life. She chooses not to let her mothers actions define her.

I really enjoyed that. It’s true the images we construct in our heads are different from the real people we interact with, who are more complex, and the way this episode explores that is cool. One important moment can define the version of that person we keep in our hearts. And this episodes message that you can recognize someone who abused you as a complex and even pitiful person and still not forgive them. The most important thing is to move forward. A lot of stories wouldn’t have handled this sequence that deftly. The narrative sympathizes with Chise’s mother, but it doesn’t excuse her and neither does Chise herself.

But hey, speaking of abuse and narratives glossing over it! Let’s talk about Elias.

So you know all those female friendships Chise’s having and how she’s like, getting a life outside Elias? Elias is not okay with that. In fact, he’s SO possessiv he threatens Chise’s life at one point- she has to threaten to hurt herself to get him to stop squeezing her. It’s pointed out that Elias is like a child, which is true enough- he’s very new to feelings and interacting with people. But the excuse “oh it’s because he’s like a child” is eerily reminiscent of how abusers are excused in real life- “he can’t control himself, he’s just throwing tantrums”. Abusers are often babied in this way.

The idea Chise is obligated to “mother” him and teach him basic morality and self control even at risk to herself is a dangerous one. Nobody should be expected to do that, much less a traumatized teen. Yet Chise instantly forgives Elias for nearly killing her, when she clearly needs to get out of this relationship before she is harmed more, because this behavior can only worsen.

And I actually don’t have a problem with this for most of the narrative- because it’s not romanticized  It is clearly a mistake that Chise indulges Elias’s behavior because, realistically, it escalates.

Chise’s days are numbered thanks to a curse and he promises Chise he’ll work with her to solve the problem. But he goes back on his word and tries to sacrifice another human to save Chise. He even goes so far as to make Chise faint to keep her from interfering, utterly denying her agency. And the kicker is he chooses to kill the a little girl Chise has befriended for this, explicitly because he’s jealous that Chise “looks at her” differently that she does him. He is literally so possessive he’s willing to kill children Chise dares pay any attention to.

it’s unbelievably fucked up, and the narrative treats it as such. It also make it clear this is the natural result of how toxic this relationship has gotten. Chise arrives in time to stop Elias and her sheer horror and rage is very powerfully done. For the first time, she sees him for how selfish and dangerous he is, how much he doesn’t respect her wishes and their relationship is broken. In a powerful (and satisfying) moment, she slugs him in the face.

Then she leaves him, stating “I can’t be with you as you are now.” Her rage and pain is the central focus here. And I have no problem with the narrative- it depicts an abusive relationship without endorsing it. It shows how these things can escalate, and it shows that Chise has very much outgrown Elias.

There’s a good scene shortly after where the fey tell Elias to take Chise back by force, as is their fairy way, and he says no, he needs to try to understand how humans work and change how he does things. That’s some really interesting stuff- the supernatural beings have their own entirely different way of approaching "love”, and Elias was entrenched in that. But now he has to learn how to love in a more honest, less possessive way, like a human is supposed to. That would be a really interesting journey to see- I love contrasting morality systems between various magical beings.

So,    It’s no longer a good idea for Chise and Elias to be near each other. Chise needs her space from him and Elias needs to seriously change and make amends.

I fully expected this to be how the anime ends. With Elias and Chise seperating and the promise that they will both be able to grow and change and learn to be without each other. And probably a hint that they’d reunite eventually, when Elias has truly changed (not just SAID he will). It seemed to be the natural arc of the narrative and honestly what these two characters NEEDED to really progress.

But the anime said “fuck character development, fuck healthy relationships, fuck pacing, fuck everything” and threw the arc it had been carefully building out the window.

In an extremely rushed and jarring final epsiode, Chise does a dangerous thing and asks for Elias’s help and he complies and...thus she instantly forgives him. Despite the whole thing being treated as a huge deal, suddenly this very real issue of their toxic relationship is forgotten, she goes back to him and their disagreement is treated as nothing more than a cute spat (with Elias claiming Chise is equally at fault because she acted on her own without waiting for him once, proving he has learned NOTHING  and does not understand the severity of what he did and how it is in no way equivalent to Chise simply being reckless), they even turn chibi.

THIS IS AN ARGUMENT OVER HOW ELIAS TRIED TO MURDER A CHILD CHISE LIKED OUT OF PETTY JEALOUSY. IT’S A BIG DEAL. DON’T TRY TO MAKE IT SOME CUTE AND SILLY THING WHEN YOU TREATED IT SERIOUSLY THREE EPISODES AGO.

Oh, but it gets worse. Elias and Chise resolve their argument offscreen and apparently it’s all solved by Elias saying he won’t do it again. Yep. That’s it. No demonstration he’s changed or even understands why his actions are wrong. It’s just “I won’t do things you don’t like”. Problem solved!

And the Chise does what any girl would do after a guy broke her heart and tried to murder her ten year old friend: get a wedding dress and make her vows to him!

No. i’m not joking. As much as I wish it was.

And this scene is not framed as creepy or dangerous. It is framed as sweet and romantic.

Let’s put aside the fact Chise is 16. Let’s put aside the huge power imbalance in their relationship and the fact Chise is in his care. Even putting those things, this makes no sense from a narrative and characterization perspective

Elias has done nothing to warrant Chise wanting the make this step! He literally just betrayed her! There was absolutely no buildup to this, no natural relationship progression! Elias and Chise are both in no way ready to be in a romantic relationship! Elias proved he isn’t emotionally equipped to function as FRIEND and reasonable being right now, much less a husband! Does he even know what a bride is? Last time we checked, he didn’t even understand the concept fully! He has no idea what he’s supposed to do as a husband. Why would Chise choose NOW of all times to make her move when he’s done nothing to show her he won’t pull shit like, i dunno, trying to murder her friends because he’s jealous, again?

This is so tonally jarring with the rest of the series and it comes out of nowhere. It seemed fundamentally opposed to how the relationship between Chise and her mom was handled, where moving away from abuse and letting go of your abuser was emphasized. Where not excusing horrible actions and taking time to fully deal with your hurt and pain was emphasized. Apparently none of that applies to Elias! No time apart, no time to process and heal and have him take responsibility for his actions!

It’s also just terrible from a narrative perspective- it’s ridiculously rushed, it’s a complete tone shift that treats what was presented as a big dramatic conflict that seemed like it would shake these characters at their foundation as a an easily resolved cute little spat, it fails to be satisfying as a conclusion. Compared to the rest of the show, it feels like it was written by an entirely different person.

And it was. I immediately went to check if this whole conclusion was anime original and yep. This is where it overtook the manga. This ep was the shitty, rushed conclusion they tacked on to a story line that really, really needed more time to breathe. I have no idea why they’d want to do this, why they couldn’t just wait for the manga to finish this arc and end the anime there, but here we are.

I hope the manga will have a more satisfying conclusion to this storyline, that it will give the resolution the room it needs. Ideally, I’d like Chise to live apart from Elias for at least a while. She’s grown a lot, and she needs space to grow further and learn how to function without him. They’ve gotten dangerously codependent and it’s stifling her. Meanwhile, Elias especially needs to learn how to not treat Chise so possessively and taking time apart from her and respecting her wishes to be left alone would help him learn to do that. He needs to work on himself so he isn’t a danger to her. If they stay together right now, things will only get worse.

The manga is about their relationship, so I have no doubt they’ll eventually reunite, but I want to see it happen only after Elias proves he’s changed significantly and after Chise is allowed to become more confident and independent. I hope the manga delivers on that and tells a satisfying story where the characters actually grow, that treats the issue of abuse and toxic relationships seriously, that gels with the stuff that came before.

Of course, there was other stuff going on in the midst of Chise and Elias’ emotional journeys. We learned the Cartaphilus backstory and it was actually pretty interesting stuff. it fully explored exactly how horrific it would be to wander the earth and never die- Cartaphilus was being punished for a crime that was so long ago he couldn’t even remember what it was. When he finds out it was “threw a rock at the Son of God” he’s like “wtf just for that? other people did way worse shit!” and you have to agree with him. It also offers the ishiness of using Cartaphilus as an antagonist a bit by making it clear he only started killing after fusing with a boy named Joseph. In fact, the Cartaphilus part of Joseph seems mostly benign as he was the one who tried to talk to Chise.

So it’s a compelling take on an old story. Lots of parallels are made between him and Chise, he’s a great antagonist thematically. The conclusion...well like everything in the last episode, it was rushed, weird, and I couldn’t really tell what was going on. Hopefully the manga's version will be better.

I enjoyed a lot of this anime- the rich fantasy world, the exploration of trauma, the complex characters- but the last episode was just so infuriatingly BAD that it damaged the narrative as whole. It undid and contradicted most of the positive things about the story. It just left me feeling skeeved out.

So in the end, I don’t recommend this anime. Because you’re better off reading the manga. I went through it, and it was better paced than the anime overall, has many details that strengthen the story and the emotional beats hit much harder. Watching the anime can be a confusing experience at times, but the manga is much easier to follow. I feel pretty confident based off this that however the manga wraps up the current arc, it will at the very least be slightly better paced and executed. So be kind to yourself, and go with the better version of the story if you’re interested in this. And cross your fingers for a good ending.

#anime overview #the ancient magus bride #devilman crybaby #winter 2018 anime #mahou tsukai no yome #mahoutsukai no yome #hatori chise #chise hatori #elias ainsworth #anime #abuse cw #suicide cw

[thestoryweneededtowrite]

Titanic AU - Epilogue

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32

Davey was only half paying attention to the news. It was on in the background whilst he listened to his daughter catch him up on how his grandkids were doing now they’d scattered to the wind across the country. Then he heard the word Titanic, said with enough grandeur that he knew it was the ship. Looking up instinctively, he saw a drawing he thought was lost forever to the ocean being held up to a camera. Suddenly Katie’s words became distant ringing and the spiel of the reporter talking about recovering artifacts from the Titanic was roaring in his ears.

“Jack,” was all he managed to say, the name wavering and stunted.

“Yeah?” Jack called back, sensing the shock in Davey’s voice and immediately putting down the wooden spoon he’d been stirring their dinner with and poked his head round the doorway into the living room. When he saw what Davey was looking at on the television his legs found themselves moving of their own accord and he walked over to the sofa. “Oh my god,” he breathed in awe, sinking down onto the couch beside Davey.

“I never thought…” Davey trailed off, because of course he’d never thought he’d see the drawing again. He’d thought about it so often, regretting not saving it and imagining it in the dark as it slowly turned to mush and then to nothing, but apparently he’d be wrong about its fate.

“What is it?” Katie asked, concerned. She was looking at the screen and trying to see what they saw, but all she could make out was some fluff piece about a rather suggestive sketch of a young man, clearly drawn by a lover, found in a ship wreck. What did that have to do with her dads?

She knew they weren’t really her dads, of course, not in the way that mattered to most people. The story of how she’d ended up with them, one she loved to hear and tell in equal measure, involved Jack and Davey falling in love at sea and, after landing in New York, travelling to New Mexico to find a smalltime town where they could live in relative peace, considering two men sharing a house was going to get them strange looks and a lot of talk anywhere. They were taking a risk wherever they settled but they’d been lucky. Not that there weren’t whispers, but they were both upstanding members of the town community. Davey was social and thoughtful and the kids all raved about him as their teacher until the parents couldn’t help but love them too. Jack was instantly likable, his people skills and the fact he served them their alcohol wooing people over even when his cocky nature might have otherwise turned them away. They were happy, and everyone in the town could see that they weren’t harming anyone, so they were accepted. They didn’t hold hands and kiss outside of their little house, but they felt safe there. One day a baby had ended up on their steps. No one knew where it had come from, but it was clear someone couldn’t keep it and had thought them fit to raise it. So they had, and that was when Katie became part of their family. It had been her bedtime story almost every night as a child, the one she begged them to tell her over and over. These were her dads, no matter what anyone else wanted to say on the matter.

She thought she’d known everything about them, but the silence her question had created instantly had her changing her mind. They’d been hiding something, all this time. Just as she was about to ask again, Jack shrugged and finally gave her a clue. “That’s your father,” he said, quiet and resigned.

Katie immediately shielded her eyes and turned away from the television. She didn’t need to see what were essentially borderline pornographic images of her father, drawn by her other father. “Dad!” she whined, sounding far more immature than she should.

“I was young and impressionable and your dad was a bad influence?” Davey tried, unable to keep himself from a smile at his weak excuse. “Hardly,” Jack snorted. “You practically begged me to draw that.” He remembered it well, although his memories were more hung up on having Davey naked in his arms for the first time as supposed to drawing a new sketch, but it was all a part of the same experience. “Jack!” Davey complained, hitting him gently on the arm.

“Wait,” Katie asked, confused. “You drew it, Dad? But…” She trailed off but they all knew what she meant. But Jack’s hands were debilitated. He couldn’t hold a pen to write, much less draw. And he’s been that way ever since she’d been alive, and probably long before that. There were rings of discoloured skin around both of his wrists that she knew had to be something to do with it, but they’d never been explained to her and her father had almost always keep them hidden under sleeves. They looked like handcuffs marks, she knew that. But she also knew better than to bring them up in conversation.

Davey reached out sadly for Jack’s hand. He knew his wrists were a sensitive issue. Sometimes, when he was in too much pain to even hold Davey’s hand, he’d still shed tears over them.

“You father was an amazing artist,” Davey explained.

Because Jack had been. He was tearing up now, looking at the last thing he’d ever managed to draw. He tried time and time again once they’d settled in Santa Fe, but it just brought agony to his wrists to hold a pencil at that angle for that long. Davey would have to pry the pencil from his hands to get him to stop hurting himself and he’d spend the evening sobbing. Art had been his way of understanding the world and now it was gone.

“Do you think they’d give it back?” Davey wondered wistfully out loud, gesturing towards the television.

It was the first and last time Jack had ever drawn him. After Davey had watched Jack torture himself with attempts to draw, he’d saved up for a camera and that had helped a little. It wasn’t the same but Jack had a new way of capturing images. They were poor quality and they couldn’t always afford film, but it was better than nothing. Every time they’d sent away a roll to be developed, they worried. Jack was particularly fond of taking photos of Davey in various stages of undress and Davey wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea, he was just concerned someone was going to realise they were gay and that it wasn’t going to go well. If they put another set on handcuffs on Jack, he’d never forgive himself.

There was something about that one and only drawing, though. Something a photograph wouldn’t have been able to capture. The way it echoed with the last remnants of who he used to be, whilst still clearly being the boldest thing he’d done in his life – at least at the time. He recognised the look in his eyes in the sketch. He saw it every morning when he opened his eyes and found the man he’d call his husband in spite of what any law tried to say looking back at him. It was love. But no new photograph could encapsulate that feeling in quite the same way. That was intoxicating, forbidden love that burned quick and bright like a match, he could see it in the way his hands were curled in the sheets like he wanted to get them back on skin and the way his eyes were hooded with a kind of innocent lust that still made him blush. Not that he loved Jack any less now, but it was definitely different. They were still romantic, but things were more like a bonfire than a spark. Stronger. Hazy and comforting, like home and safe and forever – but not without its bursts and crackles. Davey wouldn’t give up what he had now for anything, but he wanted that glimpse into the past back, not least because it was a private moment that only Jack should be allowed into and now the only existing remnant of the night he had slept with a man – with anyone – for the first time was on national television for everyone to see.

Jack cocked his head, looking at the drawing on the screen. It managed to feel like a distant echo and a fresh memory at the same time and he couldn’t help but agree that he wanted it back. The last thing he had ever drawn. Still, there was almost no chance.

“Probably not,” he sighed, putting his hand on Davey’s knee and squeezing. “There’s no way to prove it was me who drew it.” Even if the diving crew managed to find out whose cabin the sketch had been found in, David Jacobs was legally dead. There was always Jack’s signature in the corner, but it had changed so much over the years that he barely recognised the untidy old scrawl himself. He did wonder what people would say if and when they realised that there was a male name on the bottom of a sketch of a clearly naked, recently defiled man. There was definite headline potential there.

“No… I suppose not,” Davey agreed, a tone of mourning to his voice.

Katie had been watching the exchange with an endless fascination. It brought up so many questions and, whilst some she never wanted answers to, a lot of them were trying to coerce her tongue into interrupting what was clearly an important moment for her dads. When Jack looked up and met her eyes, he winced. They’d been hiding a lot from her and this finally seemed like the moment to share it all, before they ran out of time.

“Katie, come here. Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the chair opposite the sofa. This was going to be a long story, and a sad one. It seemed sufficiently serious to necessitate the Proper Conversations of her teenage years about boyfriends and curfews and being safe.

Rolling her eyes, Katie sat down. “I’m not a child anymore, Dad.”

“No, you’re right. You’re not. But we have a story that you should hear. We never quite told you the truth about how we met but…” Jack looked to Davey to get a nod and, taking his hand, he continued. “That ship we met on? It was the Titanic. And we made it out alive. It’s time we told you everything, right from the beginning.”

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #javid #Jack Kelly #davey jacobs #Jack/David #Titanic AU #the end

[kittyit]

#fat stigma #common lives lesbian lives

[thomasvanboening]

Reader Beware (Full Story)

By Thomas Van Boening

  Gamma Psi Sigma had been the last place left to pledge, I thought as the frat boy tied the blindfold.  It was clear to me that getting into a fraternity without some athletic ability was going to take some doing.  The campus had an unofficial religion and athletes and coaches were living gods around here.

“Alright, dumbass.”

One of future hazers addressed me, yanking the collar of my shirt forward.

“What’s your name and why should we let your scrawny ass into our elite society?”

I felt his breath.  It reeked of pizza and halitosis.  He was definitely a football player considering he pulled me upward for half a second.  “My name is Jack Fields.  I am studying to be an artist and I could contribute to make Gamma Psi Sigma the most bad ass house on fraternity row.”

“We don’t usually take faggots.”  Another frat boy said. 

Just hearing the word made me cringe.  Always hated what I called ‘the other f-word.’  Keep cool.  This is just the usual hazing initiation, I thought.  I felt bad for Kevin the most at the moment.  I knew somewhere in the blind darkness of this ritual he heard the same thing and his bisexual nature was likely very pissed.

“I can ensure you that this house can win the homecoming parade, have rad posters for events, and I can help all in the house with their required art classes that you find to be bullshit!”

I then felt the sting of a wooden paddle hitting my ass.  I winced but didn’t yelp.

“Shut up, Fields.”  The first frat boy said.  “Art classes are the cakewalk of college.  You are taking the weak way out with the arts, while we will be the elite and strong mother fuckers that you will be working for as long as your weak dumb ass will live!”

I couldn’t believe I was putting myself through this stereotypical malarkey.  Yes being in a fraternity would solve a few problems and would finally get dad off my back.  It just sucked that this was my last option since no other fraternity let Kevin and I in during rush week. 

“We’ll come back to you, queer-bait”.  It was so hard to differentiate who was talking to me with the blind fold on.  The guy who just spoke had a knack for dropping homophobic slurs like old southern trash drop n-bombs.

“And what about you, fat fuck?”  The frat boy said.  “Who are you and what could a sack of shit lard ball like you do for the best house on campus?”

Keven was standing next to me last I saw, but now I could only guess the fat fuck he was addressing was my best friend from high school.

“I-I-I…”  He stammered.  It was still Keven next to me on my right.  “I am Kevin Gries –“

“Grease?”  The frat boy cut him off.  “Grease is right.  You’re so fat, your skin is practically glistening with grease.  You little pig.”

“I am Kevin Gries and I and am in the Engineering program.  I could use my knowledge of engineering and physics to aid your ball players and other athletes.”

“Physics don’t make better players, practice makes better players.”

‘Doesn’t’ make better players, I thought.  They could do well with an English major in the house too.

“You think just because you’re smart, you can be in here?”

“We both could keep the house GPA high.” I said boldly.

There was no retort outside of another smack to my butt.

After we heard more of the same for about a dozen of us, we were escorted into cars from Gamma Psi Sigma house.  I imagined this was another part of the initiation, so I thought I made it through the first round of this machismo rite of passage.

I knew Kevin was in the back seat with me.  His breathing was always heavy, whether he was calm or nervous.  “We’re gonna get through this.” I whispered.

After about 15 minutes, it could have more it could have been less, I felt the car stop and the engine shut off.

“Alright fuck-tards.” The frat boy said.  “Time for your baptism.”

The door opened beside me and I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder and pull me out.  I heard the sound of leaves crunching and felt the occasional stick break beneath my shoes.  I could only guess I was in a wooded area outside of town.  The air was cooler, and it felt like it rained recently.

After walking I was forced to stop by my escort, whoever he was.  I could hear running water nearby, like a creak or stream.

“We have come to the last part of the initiation, you little pricks.”  A frat boy said.  I actually recognized the voice.  It was Richard Malcom, the president of Gamma Psi Sigma.  “You will take your baptismal and should you pass, you shall be welcomed.  We are looking for 12 pledges, and I see 20 of you sacks of shit before me.”

I heard the scuffling sound of another pledge getting dragged.  The darkness was becoming almost unbearable as I just wanted to know what the hell they planned on doing in this baptismal of ours.

“Strip.” I would hear Richard say. 

There was a moment where I heard the recruit rustle out of his clothes.  It was at this time I smelled something awful.  It smelled like we were downwind from some farm because it smelled like the shit of some animal.  Cow or pig shit maybe.

“Grab him.” 

I heard a slight struggle, but it sounded like the recruit was thrown into the water.  I then heard a shriek from the kid.  “Holy fuck, it’s cold.”

“Welcome to our brotherhood.”  Richard said.  “You are a Gamma Psi Sigma member now.”

The process was repeated a few more times.  After more people complained of how cold the water was, a few kids were dismissed as failures.

Then it was my turn.  I felt to guys grab my arms and lead me forward. 

“This shit is taking too long men, let’s start doing this two at a time.” Richard said. 

“Alright.” The homophobic frat boy said.  “Let’s get the next two, and the new deal with the two faggots and then we can go home and get laid.”

I heard two of the guys ahead of us get their initiation, and it sounded like both of them were welcomed into the fraternity. 

I had kept count.  They said they were looking for 12 recruits, and they had dismissed eight of us and accepted ten.  That meant that all Kevin and I  had to do was take a cold dip in the water.

Then I felt the arms grab me again.

“Strip.”  Richard said. 

I took off my clothes.  The night air was very cold against my skin.  Even though I was blindfolded, I made it my business to hide my shame.

“Alright.  Grab them.”  Richard said.  “The final initiation of the night.”

I noticed the stench again as I was walking.  Something doesn’t feel right, I thought. 

“Oh by the way.” I heard Richard say as I was hoisted up and made parallel with the ground.

I heard him say nothing else.  Just felt my body fall as they dropped me into the water.

I gasped right before I was submerged.  I was under something alright, but it wasn’t as nearly cold as I thought it would be.  And it was thick.  It was the shit I smelled earlier.  They dropped me, and I presumed Kevin, into a vat of shit.

I stood up and screamed and the thought of anything getting in my mouth or up my nose made me puke.

“We only needed ten recruits this year.  Sorry to break it to you sacks of shit.”  Richard said.

I took off my blindfold and it was I saw all of the flashlights pointing at my body covered with varying shades of brown shit.  The laughter made my embarrassment intensify. 

I then saw Kevin struggle to get up.  I immediately tried to help him up.  He was so slick with feces and god knows what else that he slipped from my grip and I lost my bearings.  It wasn’t shallow by any means, it was essentially a normal swimming pool filled half way up. I then slipped on top of Keven as I tried to move.

“Oh look, the two gay-wads couldn’t wait to go at it!” The homophobic frat boy shouted to roaring laughter.  I finally recognized him as Roy Frost, the halfwit baseball player that carries the team.  An urge to shove a Louisville slugger up his ass came across my mind.

“Fudge for the fudge-packers.  It fits perfectly.” Some unseen new initiated kid added. 

I wanted it just to end.  More than anything I just yearned to turn back time and tell myself to just take more loans and pay them back after college.  More debt would be infinitely better than being doused in crap from head to toe.

 The worst part was I could see half of them getting cell phones out, undoubtedly to take photos.  It wasn’t enough to haze us, it wasn’t enough to reject us, and it wasn’t enough to embarrass us in the worst way possible.  No, they had to ensure that our lowest moment of me and Kevin’s lives was preserved, likely on the internet already, curated forever for anyone to see.

“Let’s go boys.  We got a long weekend ahead of us.”  Richard said.  “But before we go I have a parting gift for no hard feelings.” 

I saw a fire extinguisher being pointed at both of us.  I braced myself.

“Get lost, you shitheads!”  Richard shouted.  “Gamma house has no place for the weak.”

The fire extinguisher was the coldest thing I ever felt.  I couldn’t do anything but shudder and shout.  They all left us.  I saw that there was a creek glistening in the moonlight.  “Come on.  Let’s get rinsed off.”

“It’s freezing cold.”  Kevin said. 

“I know.  But we’re going to get some foul disease or something.”  I said.  “The sooner we wash off, the sooner we can get back to the campus.”

The creek was only waste deep, but it was enough water to get started.  It came off quicker than I thought.  But I felt globs and dollops of feces rinsing away.  When I was halfway done, Kevin finally worked up enough gumption to get in.

“I hope there aren’t any leeches, like in Stand by Me.”   He said.

“Not a good time to mention that.”  I said.  I wanted to laugh, but I remembered a young Wil Wheaton and the exact scene he was referring to when a leech saw fit to start sucking on his privates. 

“Can you get my back?”  Kevin asked.

“Yeah I can.”  I said.

The best was getting my face cleansed.  I no longer smelled like a pool of shit.  Thankfully it was just a vague stink of shit, like I worked on a farm for a long day.

“We’ll shower off the rest when we get back..”  I said.

“They took our clothes.”  Kevin said.  I could tell he was on the verge of crying.  I had to admit, I was close to blubbering myself.  I’d heard of extreme cases of hazing, and I could only blame myself for trying to pledge to the archaic fraternity system.

We walked through the woods.  I stepped on several acorns and sticks, and I knew Kevin didn’t fare any better.  Each one hurt a lot.  After about a half hour of stumbling into trees and freaking out with the sound of nocturnal wildlife, we finally found our way to the road by listening to the occasional sound of a car or truck running by on the highway.

“Which way should we go?”  Kevin asked.

I looked to the sky.  It was partly cloudy with the full moon, but I managed to find Polaris really quick.  I knew where north was, but I had no idea if the assholes from Gamma Psi Sigma took us to the woods north or south of town.  I saw two faint glows on the horizon in either direction.  The fainter one to the southeast was more likely to be the small college town.

“We’ll go south.” I said.

Neither of us said anything while walking on the rough pavement.  Kevin was only muttering two words under his breath, thinking that I couldn’t hear him.

“Never again.”  He would repeat occasionally. 

About two hours of walking we saw the outskirts of town.  My guess was right, thankfully.  It would have been very awkward to get a cab from the other town.  My cell phone was in my stolen clothes too, so I couldn’t even call an Uber.  It was just as well.  I would have felt bad to sit in someone’s car and get cow-shit all over.

For about three hours we walked on the wet road.  Any time we heard a car coming, we would stop and squat in the ditch to make sure we were never seen in the bare, or worse by the Gamma Phi Sigma assholes if they returned for more kicks. 

We saw the clock in town square that it was 4:03 a.m.  I was beyond cold.  Even in the dim orange street lights, we both looked pale.

We made it back to our dorm.  We pressed every button until one of the other students buzzed us in.  Thank Christ that Kevin left a key to our room behind his Star Wars poster on the door.  For once I felt the force was with us that tonight.

I looked into my mirror and I looked terrible.  Pale white skin covered with the occasional blemish of dirt and dry crud. How we weren’t seen was the only real miracle.   I took a hot shower and under the noise of the running water I finally broke down and cried.  I felt no shame being an 18 year old man being driven to tears.

I thought about everything that happened over the last few hours.  I don’t know what I expected.  Fraternities are notorious for being a magnet for douchebags and hazing incidents only get worse and worse each year.  But this prank, this baptism of shit was the most unforgiveable thing I’ve ever heard of happening to anyone.

Do I report this prank?  I thought.  Of course I do.  This was disgusting and morally reprehensible.

I didn’t sleep well at all, although Kevin slept like a snoring log.  He did talk in his sleep.  The same two words: Never again.  I was surprised he could sleep at all.  We probably walked about ten miles of walking, more than we had walked any day of our lives.

I thought to get breakfast at the college cafeteria, but I just got a Pop Tart out from under my bed where I hoarded food in a tote.  I didn’t want to see anyone from Gamma Psi Sigma, or any other fraternity for that matter.

The rest of Saturday I spent my time in the dorm until supper time.  I could eat my junk food and snacks, so I went to the cafeteria.  I tried to convince Kevin, but I gave up after one attempt. 

While walking through the campus, I could hear other students giggling and talking softly whenever I went by.  Did they know?  Had they seen the pics taken?  Did word get around about him and Kevin being submerged in shit?

I got my supper and sat at an empty table.  The overcooked and bland chicken with corn giblets and Mountain Dew was delicious enough, but I couldn’t get over the thought of what my hands were coated in only the day before.  I felt like showering again and again.

“Hey shit-for-brains!” said Roy Frost.  “Looks like you turned up… or should I say “turd up?”” 

“Leave me alone.” I said.

“I get it.”  He said.  “I’m not your type.  You and your fudge-packing butt-buddy are a cute couple anyway.”

I wouldn’t suffer him anymore.  I got up with my half eaten food and took my tray to the dish washing conveyor belt. 

I then went straight to campus security after getting Kevin.  We got to the office, only to see a tall fat slob picking his nose.  We reported our situation and all he could do was give us a form to fill out.

“Your frat house and sorority shenanigans get weirder and weirder every year.”  The security guard said.  “I will report this and we’ll talk with Gamma house about it.”

“That’s it?”  Kevin said.  “That’s all you can do?”

“From what you say happened, it sounds like it happened off campus.  If it happened off campus, there really isn’t anything I can do.  These fraternities do a lot of crap off campus or outside their houses so they all get the alibi of not hazing on campus, because our College has a no-hazing policy… on campus.  You want to follow through, be my guest and go to the city police.”

“We will.” I said.  “And we’ll be glad to let everyone know that we got the run around with you especially after what they did with us.”

“Not on campus, not my problem that you stupid kids feel like acting like savages.” The security guard said.

“Sorry we took time away from your nose picking.” Kevin said as he stormed off.

We did follow up with the town authorities.  They asked us for proof of this.  We couldn’t produce the location of where the hazing took place, and we both had done an amazing job cleaning up and not getting caught naked on our cold voyage back home.  This felt like the whole town was against us and was acting like hazing was just something that people do and there is no reproach to be had for the college.

After a few days of trying to find a sympathetic soul and coming up with nothing, I gave up in sheer frustration. 

“Never again.” Keven said. 

I got so tired of hearing him saying that.  I knew what he was thinking; retribution and revenge.  I knew he wasn’t going to go the same path as Seung-Hui Cho or Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold.  Kevin has a good soul, I thought.  But how much pushing does it take to manifest revenge from fantasy to reality?

By the end of September I was still plenty pissed, but I was trying to leave it alone and not make waves.  Kevin wouldn’t stop dwelling on it and not leave it alone.

“Look, I know what they did was terrible,” I said.  “And yes I wish the town wouldn’t turn a blind eye to the obvious hazing that has happened, not just to us, but to countless students that have come and gone.  I just want to put my time into this place, get out, and not get into any more trouble here.”

“Being in the middle of the road is the most dangerous part to walk.”  Kevin said.

I hated to think about it, but he was right.  We did have to do something, but what?

September turned to October and midterms were coming up.  I was doing fair in my art and design classes, but Kevin was doing poorly.  I warned him that he needed to worry more about getting put on academic probation or worse getting kicked out of college for poor grades.

I helped him study for the midterm exams and he helped me in return with art projects.  He did fair on his exams, while I did awesome.

One afternoon during midterm break Kevin had looked better than he had since the hazing.  “You have to check this out!”

I had to humor my best friend.  So I went with him.  He took me to the library and we went into the stacks in the basement and showed me an odd book.  We sat at a small table at the end of the row of stacks.

The book was like something out of a cheesy British horror movie starring Christopher Lee or Peter Cushing.  It was bound in black leather and had yellowed pages and looked like it was ready to be put in the Smithsonian. 

“So what is it?”  I asked.

“It’s a book on the old Occult and a history of covens in early colonial America.” Kevin said.  “I am doing a research paper in English Composition, and I picked to do a project on the Occult.”

“Okay, so it’s an old dusty book.” I said.  “So what does this mean?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”  He said.  “Just look at this page here.”

“Reader beware.” I read from the book.

“Not that.” Kevin pointed.  “This here!  This, this, is our ticket to revenge.”

I saw an illustration for some archaic symbol and a cartoony reptile coming from it.  It looked like my older brothers dungeons and dragons books.

I knew he was waiting for me to actually read the passage.

“Here you will find the rite of incantation for the beasts.” I read.   “The parallel realms of the abyss and the ethereal are obtainable through proper use of this spell.  For protection, call upon the ethereal, and for ultimate revenge, call upon the abyss.”

“So how does the idea of Gamma Psi Sigma finally getting theirs sound to you?” Kevin asked with a huge grin.

“This sounds like you are reading a crock of shit, Kevin.” I laughed nervously.

I then heard a rustling sound under the table.

It came from Kevin’s backpack.  I dragged the bag and hoisted up on top of the table.  It rustled again.

“You want to see something to believe something?”  Kevin said.  “I can provide your answer with proof.” 

I braced myself to what I was going to see as Kevin unzipped the top of his backpack.  He then reached in as I heard the growling of something small.

“I read ahead and I summoned a beast of the abyss.”  Kevin said.  “Check this out!”

He pulled out of his bag a pink animal of some kind.  I looked at it and it was some kind of lizard or reptile.  It looked like a chameleon, but there was a set of horns on its head, large eyes like a lemur, and a long thin tail like an opossum. 

I placed a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.  “Holy fuck, what is that thing?”

“No clue.”  Kevin said.  “It doesn’t seem to mind me so much.  It is probably grateful to be in our material realm again.”

I reached out to touch it as Kevin held it.  I just about regretted that when the little creature did a quick snarl and tried to bite my hand.

“Hmm.”  Kevin said.  “It doesn’t seem to like you so much.  Let me try something.”

He placed a hand on the head of the monster for a moment.  It looked like he was trying some kind of Vulcan mind meld, or something. 

I didn’t like this at all.  A whole minute earlier, monsters were just something out of ghost stories, horror movies, or comic books.  But here it was, looking right at me in the face, and I still couldn’t believe that a monster in the flesh was in front of me.

“Try again.” Kevin said.  “This little guy only knew me as its master, and now I told it that we are both its master.”

I hesitated, but I put my hand out the same way I would expect a dog to sniff.  It then crawled onto my hand.  I just about freaked, but I kept calm as it crawled on my arm.  It had a very strong grip.  Then somehow I could sense something, as if the creature’s mind and my mind were on the same frequency.

You were wronged by someone, as well.  Some voice said.  It was like an inner monologue, but it wasn��t my voice in my head, it was someone else.  The balance of your life is off because someone wronged you for infantile means.  Beings of the abyss are all about balance, and only wish to help our gracious hosts of the physical realm.

Somehow I understood completely.  This was the exact means we needed to get back at the Gamma house assholes.

“Will you help us?”  I asked the little pink creature.

It is why we exist. It said.  We serve our summoning masters.

“What does this mean, this passage ‘Reader Beware’?” I asked.

Pay it no mind.  It said.  Merely just a safety measure so others do not abuse this power.

It crawled off my arm and his voice in my head was gone.

I understood how Kevin was excited for the first time in a while.  I relished the idea of getting back at every single bastard that wronged us, consequences be damned.  If no one was going to right the wrongs for us, I felt justified, as Kevin did, to seek out a force that would right the wrongdoing on our behalf.

Halloween night had come.  What better night was there to summon demons from the abyss?  We decided to summon more creatures from the abyss.  The more the better, I thought.  And what was Gamma Psi Sigma going to do?  Call about demons attacking them on Halloween?  The police know a crank call when they hear one.  It was foolproof.  It was perfect.

Kevin got the book and read the words for the rite of incantation. 

“To the abyss I call for those that will answer and serve.  I, Kevin Gries, exchange my soul for your entrance.  Hear my plea, oh demons of darkness and come and bring balance to the physical world.” 

“Did you just sell your soul?”  I asked.

“No, that would be stupid.”  Kevin said.  “I just exchanged it as currency of passage.  Once they are gone, they will return my soul to me.”

I didn’t like that at all.  But before I could object, a semitransparent ring of orange light appeared in our dorm room and from there I could only see infinite blackness.  I then saw something small fly through.  Then it landed on Kevin’s shoulder, a green lizard similar to the pink one from before, but this one had wings like bats and a longer tail with spikes like a stegosaurus.

 I then saw several other monsters reach out and crawl out.  They were violet and gold.  The demons all had a similar reptilian look to them, but the latter two looked like shelled versions of the pink monster.  They had a lot more defined muscles and longer legs, but their heads were the same horned chameleon with lemur eyes.

The gold and violet demons crawled toward me and I welcomed them.  Their grip was very strong as well.  A little more strength than the pink one.

The pleasure is mine, friend of Kevin.  Whose soul shall we eat today?

I was careful of my thoughts.  I didn’t want the demons knowing how I felt.  Yes I wanted revenge, but this new revelation of taking souls to eat was a little shocking.  I hoped for physical revenge of some sort.

“The ones who wronged us are the men of the house Gamma Psi Sigma.” I said honestly.  “I only want due retribution.”

We are fully aware of your unfortunate circumstance, Jack Fields.  The Gold One said.  People who go about hurting others just for the sake of hurting others are our specialty.  Leave this house of evil men to us.

I felt reassured whenever the demons had physical contact with me.  It was almost a euphoric sensation of calm and I felt sure that eating the frat boys souls was the correct course of action.

“Shall we take them to the Gamma house?” I asked.

“Yes.  Let’s do.”  Kevin smiled.

Kevin instructed all four small demons into his backpack and he carried them on his back.  We left the dorm and walked through town and took in the beautiful scenery of Halloween.  All of the jack-o-lanterns, decorations of spooky ghosts, and cartoony monsters like Frankenstein, Dracula, Freddy Krueger, and Jason Voorhees everywhere you looked.

“Let them out of the backpack, Kevin.”  I said.  “They’re gonna fit right in on a night like this.”

Kevin smiled in agreement.  He then unzipped the backpack and let each monster out.  The creatures were delighted to see the sights not normally seen in the darkness of the abyss.

They walked to the Gamma house and then sat on the bench next to the bus stop on the sidewalk across the street.

“Have fun.”  Kevin said.

I wished we could have seen them do their dirty work as I saw each monster slip into different windows.  But hearing the screams and seeing the occasional frat boy run from the house was pretty nice. 

About an hour later, Kevin and I hand our fill laughing and grinning at the demons torment and scare the frat boys.  Even Richard and Roy were getting freaked out.

Then we got a shock.  We heard a gunshot.  Then a squealing screech.  We looked to each other and didn’t hesitate to run into the Gamma house.  One of the monsters got shot and it was our fault because it was on our behalf.  We ran in the open front door and saw Richard with a shotgun as he stood over a bloody and fleshy mess.  It was the pink monster, the first we met.

“What did you do?” Kevin shouted.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?  And what do you mean what did I do?  I killed a fucking monster.”  He said with pride.

I had a very mixed feeling.  The man who embarrassed us with a shit bath, and likely circulated our naked bodies on the internet had killed our only chance at revenge.

The green demon flew into the room and looked at Richard.  It then somehow tackled Richard with its small body and then wrapped its spiky tail around Richard’s neck.  I took the liberty to take the shotgun away from his reach.

“Help!” He choked the words out.  “Help me!”

“Get lost, you shithead.” Kevin said.

I watched Richard’s eyes dilate and glaze over, and his face go from beat read to dark blue.  I sorta wanted to help him, but revenge didn’t allow me to move forward on that line of thought.  I then saw Richard stop twitching and then the green demon released his neck from its snare.

Kevin went to pick up the green demon.  It then snapped and bit his arm.  He screamed louder than I had ever heard him at any point before.  He then grabbed and threw the monster to the floor as hard as he could.

“Ow!  What the actual fuck was that for?” Kevin said.

Our brother is dead.  It said.  No amount of souls will bring him back.  This is beyond unacceptable.

“It wasn’t our fault though.” I said.

Perhaps not, but that doesn’t change what has happened.  I feel no obligation to serve you whatsoever now.

“I summoned you to in exchange for my soul.”  Kevin said.

Consider it payment for the loss of my brother.  It said.  Reader Beware, should we feel our contractual obligation is null and void, payment is due to us and our allegiance to our summoned master is over.

The green monster then flew out of Gamma Psi Sigma house and then flew down the street.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“Well Jack, I don’t think they are going back to the abyss without a fight now.” Kevin said.

“Are you saying we kill them?”  I said.  “They got revenge for us.”

“Yeah,” Keven started.  “And look exactly what that got us.  It didn’t undo the past, and it doesn’t feel great to see the rat bastard dead, and now we have demons summoned.”

“Summoning demons was your idea!” I said.

“I know.  I was desperate for revenge when there was no one else to come and assist us.  So I summoned revenge incarnate and now I have to make sure that no one else ever again gets hurt from my actions.”

“Well,” I said as I pumped Richard’s shotgun.  “We know for a fact that they are no harder to kill than any other animal.  They bleed just like we do.”

He nodded in agreement.  We heard more screams coming from down the street.  Kevin and I left Gamma house and tried to find the source. 

I heard a woman screaming.  I knew it wasn’t some Halloween gimmick scream from some local funhouse for trick-or-treaters.  It was certainly one of the monsters handiwork. 

I saw the golden demon straddling a woman.  I could see it trying to take her soul through her mouth.  It was trying to eat it.

I didn’t hesitate to kick the son of a bitch off of her.  It rolled half way across someone’s yard before landing on its back.  It had trouble moving on its back like a stuck tortoise. 

I moved quick and put my foot on its neck to hold it down.  Before I could shoot it in the belly It grabbed my leg.

No need to do that. It said.  We just want what we lack from the abyss.  Eternity of damnation makes you very hungry.

“I understand.”  I said. 

Wait, what?  I thought.  I want to kill this thing.  What is it whenever they touch me I feel like I’m not myself?

The feeling was again euphoric, the mind melding feeling of understanding between the beast and I.

Bang.  I was ripped out of the trance and I saw Kevin with the shotgun over the dead monster, which was now a grotesque mess of mushy red and gold.

“Thanks.”  I said.  “They have some kind of unique power of mind control, I think.”

“I know.” Kevin said.  “How else do you think the little pink one convinced me to summon forth others?  I was eager to burn the book when I learned the monsters were real, but it somehow convinced me not to and just let them in.”

I heard more screaming.

“We have two more of these guys to get.”  I said.  “Come on!”

Kevin and I ran down the street of Sorority Row and we kept moving until we saw the violet monster biting some girl.  We then saw the green monster flying around, terrorizing costumed kids.

Kevin saw an opening and shot the violet demon when it wasn’t near any of the kids.  The shot blast only damaged the monster.  It’s shell must have been really tough.

“Shoot it in the belly.” I said.

Kevin and I wrestled the violet one and got it on its back.  Kevin took the shot before it could grab one of us.

Three down, I thought.  One left to go.

I saw the green flying demon flying toward town square after more people.

“Let’s end this.”  Kevin said.

“Do you know how many shots you have?” I said.

“No idea.  We killed two of them, and Richard killed one.  That’s at least three shots.” Kevin said.

“That’s a pump action shotgun, I bet it has room enough for 6 shells, maybe 8.”  I said.

“I aint got a clue, I just point and shoot like I do with Nintendo.” Kevin said.

“Right.”  I said.  “At any rate, act like you only have one shot left.” 

We walked side by side with the town square a block away from us at the end of Sorority Row.  The green demon was done with its latest victim.

“Hey!”  I shouted.  “You piece of shit.  You want another soul, deal with me and leave everyone out of this!”

The demon had a grin on its face and came flying at me.

“Whenever you’re ready.” I said.

Kevin aimed the shotgun.  “I got him.”

He pulled the trigger and the only thing I heard was a click.

“Seriously?” I said.

“Oh shit.” Kevin said.

The green demon flew and pounced on me.  It was unreal how strong these little things were.  I slugged it in the skull, but it grabbed my arm when I went for another strike.

Your soul is mine, child.  It said.

I felt like my body was getting lighter.  Little green had it’s claws on my shoulders and was inhaling my soul.  It was beyond euphoric.  It was like everything heaven was described to be.

I saw in super slow motion Kevin hold the shotgun by the barrel and swing it at the green monster, hitting it across the skull with the butt.  It was glorious.

As soon as its claws were taken from my shoulders, I felt the enraptured sense leave me. I then saw green demon attack Kevin.  It started whipped it’s tail at kevin’s neck, striking him in the jugular.  It pulled the spikes out, causing him to bleed profusely. 

I got the shotgun and got on the back of the green demon.  I put the barrel under it’s neck and began choking the little bastard.  I knew it was a tough son of a bitch, so I yanked and pulled against its neck harder than I ever yanked and pulled before. 

It started struggling, but my body weight was enough to keep it under me.  It whipped me with it’s tail on my thigh, so I brought my knee down on top of it.  I heard the demons bones in the neck cracking and I heard it gasping for air.

You’re mine, you son of a bitch, I thought.  You’re dead.

It finally stopped struggling after I heard the neck snap and felt the bones in the beasts throat give into the shotgun barrel.

I heard sirens blaring when I let it go.  If it wasn’t dead, it was hurt bad enough not to want to fight anymore.

I then saw Kevin holding onto his throat.  He had lost a lot of blood.

“Jesus Christ almighty, Kevin.”  I said as I took off my shirt to tie around his neck.  “When did we become so brave?”

He couldn’t talk.  He just coughed up blood.  I knew Kevin was a goner.

A police car pulled up.  A cop got out and ran toward me.  He looked like John Candy if he had mustache. 

“What in the Sam Hell is going on here?”  The officer said.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”  I said.  “My friend here was attacked by this thing.”

“I’ve been getting calls all night about monsters.  I first thought they were pranksters, but then I heard my daughter call about them.”

I wanted to tell him everything, but I just left it alone.

“Is he okay?”  The officer asked.

I looked back to Kevin and he was gone.  He died, and his soul was gone as well, forever in the abyss as payment for the demons passage.  And for what?  An empty revenge that feels unfulfilled.

“No.”  I said.  “He’s pretty fucking far from okay.”

For the next hour or two I saw ambulances show up, and pick people up and take them to the hospital.  I saw them put Kevin in a black body bag and close up the ambulance doors.  It was the realization that Kevin wasn’t going to be at my side anymore that hurt the most.

 About a dozen people were hurt, and only two were killed.  Roy and Richard, I wanted to be overjoyed for the news that the bastards behind our humiliation were dead and gone.  But the revenge didn’t take away the empty feeling I had, and the revenge didn’t undo all of the damage done to innocent people, and the revenge didn’t bring back Kevin.

The officer got done asking around for witnesses of the attack.  He then came over to me.

“Several people say you and your friend saved the town.”  The officer said.  “Those things were some kind of freak of nature or some demented science experiment.  With the other three blown to bits, it will be hard to tell what the hell they were, but the one you strangled will likely be photographed and put in magazines.”

I didn’t want recognition for killing something..  But I felt like I was going to get a lot of unwanted attention for this.

“You’re a real hero, kid.  You apart of any fraternity?”  The Officer asked.

“No, sir.”  I said.  “In fact, I think you prolly already heard of my friend and me.  We were the ones that got hazed real fucking nasty like.”

If I had been accepted like this in the first place, this whole thing would have never happened.  I thought.

I told the officer that I wanted to remain anonymous after I filled out my report.  I told the truth.  Every little bit of the unbelievable tale of finding a book and summoning monsters after hazing.

“You’re kidding me, right?” The officer said after reading my testimony.  “No one will believe this.  Everyone will see this green mother fucker right here, and still not believe the story you wrote here.”

“That’s why I want to remain anonymous.” I said.  “I thought I wanted acceptance from everyone, more than anything.  I just want to be left alone and want no reward, because what’s being loved and accepted by everyone if it was done through revenge.”

“I see.”  The officer said.  “I should make you an accessory to murder if you say you and your friend did “summon these monsters with black magic.” Like you said you did.”

Oh fuck me, I thought.  I was terrified at what was going to happen next.

“But frat boys have been getting a free pass at bullshit for years and years.  Much of the other officers are given a yearly “extra salary” from the college to keep hush-hush about this sort of thing.  Just call this a free pass for you for doing something right.”

He tore up my written statement.  “If that book you discovered is the real deal, you burn that thing to make sure this never happens again.  I can’t stop the blind eye to hazing, but you can put a stop to monsters from another world from ever coming back.”

The very next day I got the book and set it on fire, page by page.  “Reader beware”  I laughed when I saw the red lettering..  It should have said “Burn this book.”

I turned on the TV in my dorm room and listened to the media circus.  CNN had on its news story graphic banner in big bold letters reading “Strange new animal attack on Halloween.”  I listened in while the pictures of the strangled green demon were shown.  It had decayed a little since I killed it, but its dead lemur eyes on a chameleon face made everyone freak.

I wanted to punch the dumb son of a bitch commentator that said these are likely misidentified animals like the Plum Island creature that washed up on shore, or the creatures that were found after the 2006 tsunami.  It was more of the same on each major news network. 

What was this thing?  Is this a hoax?  Was this viral marketing for a movie?

I turned off the TV thinking that I did the right thing in the end.  It was the demons that deceived Kevin and I into using them as a means of revenge.  That whole thing of being our servants was likely all a ruse to get into our world all along.  And that strange power they had over our minds was their way we didn’t question them or their motives. 

I should have taken more heed of the “Reader Beware” passage.  Did Richard and Roy deserve something in return?  Absolutely, but death didn’t feel like the right means of vengeance or payback.  That thought kept repeating in my head again and again.

I got done burning the last few pages of the book and took a leak on the ashes in the waste barrel.  I then dumped the nasty ashes out the dorm window into the courtyard below.  It was late, and I knew no one was going to see it until morning.

Fuck it, I thought.  If I get caught for burning a book, it was the least of the problems I have.

This is the first draft of a story I wrote during National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) a few years back.  Because I never thought it really fit with what the markets were asking for, there is a likelihood that this short story could get polished and developed further.  I’m slightly curious about what else could be within the old book! 

That’s it.  Glad I could share it.  Thanks for reading.  If you enjoyed it, share with others! 

-Thomas

#Writing #Story #Short Story #Reader Beware #Thomas Van Boening #Horror Story #Monster Story #B-Movie Story #Monsters #Tumblr Writers #Tumblr Authors #Tumblr Writing Community #NaNoWriMo Story

[carlerinle]

Dreams & Visions

Thursday 26th December 2019

Joel 2:28 – “And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and…your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions:”

A dream is a succession of images, emotions, ideas and sensations that occur involuntarily in the mind during sleep. Visions are essentially the same, except that they are received while being fully awake In the Bible, dreams and visions are usually predictive (Gen. 37:5-8, 40), prophetic (Dan. 2, Rev. 1:10), and/or reveal spiritual truth (Gen. 28:12-14). A vision may be either, some or all of these three, and unlike the dream, the vision usually requires the person to be “in the Spirit.” Common to both visions and dreams is the agency of the mind, and we must keep this in focus in trying to make meaning of them. The weakness of dreams and visions is that while the Word of God comes to us from the Spirit to our spirit, dreams and visions come to us by a variety of sources to our mind. Because the mind is accessible to three entities – the Spirit of God, the spirit of the devil, and your thoughts and feelings – each of which can produce a dream/vision.

As our focal text says, dreams and visions will be some of the effects of the pouring out of the Spirit. This is why it is important to rightly understand them, because if we don’t, we may end up being led by other than the Spirit of God. The Word of God is God’s most authentic way of speaking to His Church in this dispensation, not dreams or visions. A dream can be a product of your most persistent thoughts, subconscious fears, or optimistic expectations. Another source of dreams is when the devil sows a thought in your mind and causes you to dream about that thought. And the third source of dreams is when the Spirit superimposes on your thoughts and you then have an experience while sleeping. There are generally two types of visions – the open vision, where your natural senses are not suspended, and you’re aware of things around you, but are seeing something happening or going to happen elsewhere (2 Ki. 5:26, Acts. 10:3), and the trance, where your natural senses are suspended, your spiritual senses are heightened and you are enveloped in the reality of what you’re seeing (Acts 10:10-16, Rev. 1:10).

The ultimate test of the validity of a dream is when it does not conflict with the Word of God in any way or aspect, and it comes to pass. Many Christians have had very real but also very untrue visions of Mary as an angel, or Jesus as gay, because it contradicts the written Word. You must know the Word, brethren, if you will not be deceived by dreams/visions. The Word is our litmus test. Even in the middle of the dream/vision, your knowledge of the Word may be required.

Contrary to popular thought, dreams/visions are the least spiritual means of God communicating with a believer because they are usually involuntary. The less spiritually sensitive believer may need dreams/visions to hear from God. But God wants to speak with you while you’re fully involved, in real time. He prefers that you’re fully involved in the communion, even though He may choose to reveal something to you ahead of time in a dream/vision. When your spirit is alive to God, and you’re living in the haze of His presence, you won’t need to rely on dreams, because He will speak with you face to face, like a man with his friend. The office of the prophet may use more visions and dreams, but that is in administration of the office, not in relationship with God. God wants every child of God to have a close understanding of the Word of God, which is far more profitable to us than dreams and visions. Let us seek to grow more in Him, so that our senses will be alive forever to Him.

Have a blessed day.

#Devotional DiligentBibleStudy GrowingInFaith TheDailyWord

[ecotone99]

[RF] The Mask

It began on a Saturday. The pitter pat of rain thumped innocuously at Damien’s window. It was a silent kind of day. Then his alarm sounded. A fist shot out immediately, striking it, sending it crashing to the floor. Damien groaned. “Fuck me,” he exclaimed. “I need a drink.” He fished around and came up with a bottle of clear liquor. His head pounded. “Rum. The other white meat.” He took a deep drink. Damien was fat. There was no delicate way to say it. At 5’8” and 278 pounds, he was one fucking big guy. It was a point of contention. It drove a wedge between him and his parents. The rings in his face, his purple mohawk, that drove another. He kept odd hours. He could afford to. His writing career made just enough money that he was his own boss. It was liberating. Those cocksuckers working at banks and restaurants had it all wrong. It had been a rough week. Robert’s dad had a stroke. A bad one, by the sound of it. He paused mid sip. He had a late lunch with Robert in an hour or so. What was he gonna say? What could he say? Sorry your dad is gonna fucking die? “Thoughts, and prayers, and my thumb up my ass,” he grumbled. Damien was an Atheist. Had been since approximately age fifteen. His mother was a Roman Catholic who meant well, but had her head up her cooch. His father was a lapsed Jew or something. His phone vibrated. It was Paul. Damien ignored it. He’d deal with the overzealous editor when his head wasn’t throbbing and his balls didn’t ache. But of course, his balls always ached. That was his cross to bear. He fucked around for a minute longer, then against his better judgement, stepped into the shower. God yes, but that steaming water always felt good. Damien always did his best dissociating in the shower. He sat down, back against the wall, and tried to forget. Thump. Thump, thump. “Five more minutes, Martha.” He stuporic eyes shot open. “Who the FUCK is Martha?!” “Damien, you in there?!,” Robert shouted mildly. “It’s time to go, man.” “OH, FUCK.” “Just give me a sec.” he gave everything a rub down, washed his asshole and his balls, and quickly shampooed his hair. It was 45 minutes past their lunch date before he even got dressed. “Hey man, you okay?,” Robert inquired, voice laced with concern. “Am I okay? Bro, I’m worried about you. Robert managed a weak smile, and shrugged. “I mean, what can I do, man? It’s a bad scene either way. I just hope he doesn’t suffer on the way out.” Damien met his glance, could see the pain in his eyes. They were best friends of over 25 years. More like brothers. “It’s gonna be okay, Robbie.” He embraced his friend tightly. “Don’t call me Robbie,” he said. They sat in saddened silence. Normally, eating at Red Robin marked a happy occasion. “What’re you ordering, man?,” Robert said. He tried to smile, but couldn’t. “The fucking shrimp basket.” “Shrimp basket? Is it fried?” Damien laughed wryly. “Ninja, it’s a fucking Red Robin. Everything is fried. The goddamn soda is fried.” Robert smiled, for real this time. “Thank you, Damien.” “For what?” “You know what. For having my back, like you have since forever. You know the doctors say he has less than a month now.” The news stopped him cold. “A...a month?,” he stammered. “Yeah. Shit sucks.” “How’s your mom taking it?” Robert shrugged. “About as well as you’d expect. She’s 68. And stoic. She doesn’t let me know it’s bothering her, but I can tell. I can tell.” “The thought of your mom in an empty bed eats me up inside,” Damien said with a quiet fury. “Me too, man. But hey, he’s not dead yet. Let’s make this last month count.” The two men are their meal, reminiscing about the past, discussing their hopes for the future. The meal was delicious. A funny thing, Damien thought. Death always made him hungry. Hungry, and horny. He would have to scratch that particular itch later. The thrusting was vigorous. They moaned together, at the end. When it was over, the man, naked, lit a cheap cigar. Soon the motel room stank of tobacco. “You should at least learn to smoke a real cigar,” the woman said. “Fuck it,” Damien said, bringing it to his knee, holding it down in a desperate act of self mutilation. “Jesus, fuck, Damien,” she exclaimed. “Why do you have to be so goddamn self destructive?” He smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “You’re just jealous.” “Fuck you,” she laughed,” taking the cigar from him. She pressed it down against her inner thigh. “Fuck, that feels good.” Lazily flicking her nipples with her free hand. Damien squeezed her breast. “Admit it,” he lulled. “You like me.” Mischief burned in Karen Harper’s eyes. Mischief, and something else. “Miss me with that gay shit,” she said. Then he kissed her. She pulled back after a couple minutes, voice heavy. “Are you okay?” Damien smiled with an impish charm, and sighed. “Yeah. Fuck. No, actually. I don’t know why I just lied to you.” What’s wrong?,” she inquired, laying a hand against his shoulder. “It’s my best friend Robert. His dad just had a major stroke. This wasn’t the first time, either. He...,” his voice cracked. “He’s dying.” She stroked his shoulder comfortingly. “Damien...I’m so sorry. I lost my father 6 years ago. He had a massive heart attack. It was a total shock, we never saw it coming.” “I’ve known him my entire life. His wife is crazy about him. It’s killing me.” She took his head in her lap, stroking his hair. They stayed like that for a long time. At some point, he fell asleep. Sometimes, in our most vulnerable moments, the void is filled. But never for long. “How’s Dusty doing?,” Paul asked. Damien just hadn’t been able to put him off any longer. The editor was a big man. A huge man, actually. All of 6’7” and pushing 350 pounds of muscle. Of course, Damien had shown up reeking of brandy and pot, but that suited Paul just fine. The Goliath worked hard, and partied harder. “Not good,” Damien sighed wanly. “He hasn’t got very long.” “Shit. It’ll be okay.” “No,” Damien said morosely. “You’ll be okay,” Paul urged gently. “No, I fucking won’t.” “Christ, Damien, I know that. But it’s what people say. I’m limited by society’s options.” “It’s a mask,” Damien said. “Just say what you cunting mean, Paul.” “In that case.” He grinned. “In that case, I’d like to inform you that I’d 100% let Lady Gaga shit in my mouth.” Damien cocked back his head and laughed shrewdly. “Hey, me too.” “Damien, do you want the world to remember you when you die? Is that why you write?” “Huh. Well, art is a very selfish and egotistical pursuit.” “You didn’t answer my question.” “I want them to celebrate,” Damien said. “Celebrate what?” “Life. I want them to get drunk, high. To fuck in the middle of the street.” “What about your body?” Damien shrugged. “Skin my tattoos, cremate my fat ass, and for the sake of baboon pussy, don’t pray for me.” “I don’t give a fuck what happens,” Paul said mildly. “I just wanna get high.” “Why did you call me here, Paul?,” Damien arched his eyebrows. “For another one of your horseshit deadlines?” “Dude, I already said.” He held up a big old white bag. “To get high.” Damien grinned boyishly. “You know me too well, Paul. Way too fucking well. It’s eerie.” 30 minutes later, they were in Paul’s immaculate black Mercedes. Paul was driving (Damien didn’t have a license). Actually he was gunning it. He was jamming it to Lynyrd Skynyrd in erratic fashion. “Sweet home Alabama! Dun nun nun nun nun nun nun! Where the skies are so blue!” “Man, FUCK Alabama!,” Damien cried, smashing a mailbox with a wooden bat. “He leaned out of the car, a savage grin on his face . “Nothing in Alabama but buttfuckin hicks and weasels!” “Man, I’m FROM Alabama.” “So? Fuck you too,” he laughed. Paul twitched, did a line off his steering wheel. Started laughing. “Man, you’re right. I hate my hometown. Fuck Alabama. Big old shithole, man.” “Fuck Alabama,” Damien agreed. “Hey, Paul?” “Yeah?” “Can you take me home? I wanna be alone. Some of my best writing is done fucked up.” Paul nodded. “Sure, buddy.”

Damien fell, facefirst onto his bed. He had a nosebleed, but didn’t care. Didn’t give a single fuck. He fished around and found his half empty rum bottle. Took a deep swig. “Where did I put my mothershitting blunt?” “He groped for it, staggered, finally found it. The sweet, aromatic smell of pot permeated the room. He inhaled deeply. “Fucking aah, he declared.” He was just about drifting off when his phone began to ring. He looked down at his phone. 5:23AM. It was Robert. “Hello?” “Damien? Sorry to wake you.” “No. No, I was up. Everything okay, man?’ Even though he knew it wasn’t. Even though a late night call like this could only mean one thing. “No. He’s gone, Damien. He died about an hour ago. I’m sorry.” Even though he knew, fucking knew that Dusty Chavers was dying, the news hit him like a train. It was oddly physical. He felt sick, cancerous. “I’m sorry, Robert. I loved your dad very much.” “I know you did. I know it’s late. I just wanted to tell you.” “Robert, I won’t let you or your mom face this alone.” “Thank you. I gotta go. I have other calls to make.I love you, Damien. Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Robbie.” He made it to the very end of their phone call, then he projectile vomited. Right onto his bed. Fuck it. He would clean it up later. He couldn’t think. He could barely see straight. He was so high and drunk and fucked up on coke and weed and grief. There was only one place to go. Only one place he COULD go.

“Robert’s dad is dead,” Damien said quietly. She put her head on his chest. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re not okay. It’s NOT okay. It fucking sucks.” “Do you have a hole inside your soul, Karen?,” he asked. “I have an emptiness inside of me that I just can’t seem to fill. With food or booze or weed or anything good or bad. What is this emptiness inside of me?” He slammed his fist against the end table. “This desperate need to connect to others.” Tears began to fall. “Is this what being human means?” She touched his arm. “Would you read me one of your poems?” “What does that matter,” he said bitterly. “Please? Just do it.” “Okay,” he said tonelessly. “Whatever. I call this one Statuary.” He cleared his throat, struggled not to cry again. He began:

“The girl raises her glass, Alas, alas, So fast, She withers.

The forest chants, Enchants, Recants, Laments her whispers.

Her corpse is frost Touches the moss, So green, Obscene.

Among the lumber, She still slumbers, Slumbers, Slumbers.” She put his hand on her breast. “That was beautiful. “YOU are beautiful,” she whispered. “I...I don’t know what to say.” She shrugged. “Yeah, well. You were right. I DO like you.” His brown eyes shone.. He did not speak for a long while. “Miss me with that gay shit!,” he replied finally. The void is real. And it is cruel. And it wins more often than not. Death is a foregone conclusion. But one thing our species has is heart. We are stubborn, motherfucking pricks. The void is real, no doubt about it. Let’s make that bastard work for it.

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