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silkling · 3 years

Note

Could we see some more of the Smokescreen is Amalgamous AU?

Very gladly! That AU is a guilty pleasure of mine so I’m happy someone out there likes it!

———————————————————————————————————

There was darkness. It was cold, and painful and it pulled-

The planet screamed, and his people died. They died, and died , and-

Then, heat. Like a blast, it exploded-

His children, his dearest, beloved children, could only watch in horror-

His spark sang with terror, so much he thought-

“Amalgamous.”

“Remember.”

“Do it.”

“You must remember.”

And so the other children and their father combined their powers-

“You have a duty.”

But things went wrong-

“YOU MUST-“

——————————

Smokescreen was torn from his processor with a rough, choking gasp, and he felt something disconnect from the back of his helm. His shuddered on the hard metal berth he was strapped down to, his optics taking a moment longer to clear of the dark static clouding them. When they did, he turned his head towards the sounds he was hearing and saw Knock Out disconnecting Megatron from the cortical psychic patch. The warlord was on his pedes and at Smokescreen’s face in half a sparkbeat.

“What was that, Autobot? Why could I not walk through your processor as I pleased?” he snarled.

Smokescreen could only groan and let his helm fall back against the berth. “You really think I know? I don’t. I’ve been having those weird dreams and hearing those voices in my helm ever since I got to Earth.” he snapped irritably. “Sure, I heard weird things in my recharge sometimes on Cybertron, but it only ever got bad on this planet.” If he could have thrown his hands up, he would have.

Megatron stepped back, seemingly confused. “…you are very free with your tongue on this matter.” he remarked dryly.

Smokescreen shot him a look. “It’s annoying. And frustrating. I don’t know if I’m going insane or if there’s just a really traumatic set of memories from my youth that suddenly want me to remember them, but I never get a clear grasp on what I happen to see or hear. You think I want any of that? You got snippets of just a couple of my nights. I have to deal with that slag all night, every night, whenever I recharge.” his tone was tired and wry.

Megatron, blessedly, didn’t seem to take offense. He was too confused and weirded out. It seemed he got over it quickly though, because then his face twisted into a cruel snarl again and he turned to Knock Out. “We will try again. Increase the strength of the machine. I intend to go deeper. I will learn the function of these infernal relics and the location of the Autobot base.” he spat, whirling and returning to the other berth.

Before Smokescreen could protest, the patch was attached to the back of his helm again and he was pulled back into his own processor.

——————————

He had snuck out of his berthroom. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, and if one of his big brothers found out he’d be in so much trouble, but he was bored! It was so dull in his room, and even trying to imagine new shapes and forms and doing his best to change into them was starting to feel monotonous. He just wanted to explore! He was still a sparkling, was it too much to ask for some entertainment?

He toddled last guards and servants alike, staying close to the wall and in the shadows to keep out of sight. He had a mission, and no one was going to stop him!

“There you are, Ammy! I was looking for you, little one.”

No one except his big sister, apparently. He squealed as slim hands lifted him up and tucked him against a lithe chest, his small lips turning downwards in a pout. “Sol! No!” he whined.

Sol only smiled indulgently. “Oh? Why not? Why aren’t you in your room, little Ammy?”

He sagged. “Don’t wanna.” He mumbled. “‘S boring. No one wants to play and lessons are hard and big brothers don’t like me so can’ ask them for help.” he said miserably.

Sol softened. “Oh sweetspark, why would you ever believe our brothers don’t like you?”

He shot her a confused look, lifting a hand and trying to change it into a claw, only…it failed and transformed into a flipper instead. After a moment, the transformation seemed to shudder and his servo reverted back to normal without him having sent the command. “Cause I can’t do good with the gift Sire gave me?”

Sol laughed, light and free. “Oh little one.” she cooed. “It’s perfectly alright that you’re going slow. You have a wonderful, amazing gift, and if it takes you a little longer to figure it out then that’s not a problem. Our brothers don’t blame you for that, nor do they hate you.”

He whimpered, lower lip trembling. “Then why…?”

She sighed. “They are mechs, dearest little brother. Very foolish young mechs with the emotional intelligence of a treat oven.” she remarked dryly.

He blinked, then giggled despite himself.

Sol smiled at him, pleased to see her youngest brother cheering up. “Promise me you won’t ever be as emotionally posh and stunted as them, will you little Ammy?”

He beamed, his chest plates puffing out. “Promise!” he crowed.

Sol grinned. “Good. Now, where was it you were going on your little adventure? Perhaps you’d like a lieutenant for your quest?” she asked.

He gasped, delighted. Big sister was going to join him? That would be perfect! “The Singing Crystals!”

Sol laughed, and turned in the direction of the gardens. “Then to the Singing Crystals we shall go!”

He could only giggle in utter delight, a gentle adoration for his sister and sheer joy at being acknowledged filling his spark.

Now, if only he could convince his biggest brother to let him try his cool sword…

——————————

Smokescreen groaned as he was forced into the conscious world again. “Can you stop that?” he complained weakly. “It’s a pain and I can’t think right.”

The warlord, who was also coming up after that, only snarled and stood. “What was that?” he spat.

“I don’t know! How many times do I have to tell you! That was new, even for me, but I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about it because I have no clue what it was!”

The exhausted shout seemed to give Megatron pause. “So I see.” he said darkly. “You do not have siblings, then?”

“No!” Smokescreen groaned. “No brothers, no sisters, and I don’t even remember my creators. I grew up in a Youth Center, for Pit’s sake. Not…what that was.”

Megatron hummed. The youngling seemed to be telling the truth. He could tell that the repeated uses of the cortical psychic patch had exhausted the young mechling. There was no deception in his tone or body language or EM field. The warlord thought he was too mentally drained to even try and come up with a proper lie. Which meant he really did know nothing, and that was even more irritating. With a disgusted scoff, he grabbed the odd relic and turned to the door.

“Knock Out!” he barked over his shoulder. “You will continue. Do not stop until you have the information I require. Rip his mind to pieces if you must!” and then the doors shut behind him, and the two sports cars were left alone.

Knock Out sighed, and before the youngling could pull his mind together he reattached the patch, before setting the machine to pull him out after a set amount of time and went to the other berth to plus himself into it. Whatever his Lord demanded, he had to obey. It was annoying, really. This task was so beneath him. Regardless, he attached himself to the machine, and then the world faded to dark.

——————————

They were floating in darkness. Smokescreen didn’t know why. Though, he was pleased to note he wasn’t being thrown into visions or voices or memories this time around. At least he could avoid that headache. But, he couldn’t see the medic and that worried him. Was the Deception actually rooting around his memory banks. He felt a sharp pain, and a flash of memory from his time at the Archives assaulted him before it faded. Apparently yes, Knock Out was in fact ripping through his memories to get what he wanted.

Panic boiled in his chest and he wanted to scream. No! He refused to let the ‘Cons figure out what the Keys were for or where the base was. He wouldn’t betray the team like that. He wouldn’t! His panic grew as there was another stab of pain, another snapshot of a memory, and then…something in the very depths of his processor surged to the forefront. It wasn’t a personality. It wasn’t a memory. Smokescreen knew that much. Something in his spark settled, telling him that it was an echo, and impression of instinct and reflex and knowledge that had once been his. It circled and coiled around him, settling against his frame, and Smokescreen….gave in to it. Maybe it would help him stop knock Out.

As soon as he did, the feel of the Autobot’s mind changed, becoming older, more powerful and heavier on the one rooting through his memories. It made Knock Out pause, and he sensed a presence roaring towards him.

“Leave, intruder. You have no right to sift through the mind of a Prime. Leave, before I see fit to fry your processor!”

Knock Out gasped, and then the thing, whatever it was, he couldn’t even see it, rammed into him at full speed, and he was flung from the Autobot’s mind.

——————————

Knock Out came to with a yell and an ungainly flail. He flailed himself right off the berth, hitting the ground with a harsh crash and blinking the static from his vision. He looked to the Autobot to demand what in the Pit had happened, only-

Only there was a femme there. She was transparent and her colors couldn’t really be determined, her flickering form shining with a golden orange glow. She turned to him at his shout, humming. She seemed amused. “I see you’ve learned what it means to go up against my little brother, medic.” a faint smirk twisted at elegant features, “I suggest you endeavor to avoid angering him in the future. He is the most laid back of all my siblings, but it only means that in the end, his anger is the rarest and most fearsome.” she purred.

Then she seemingly dismissed him, turning to the Autobot instead. She leaned in, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s time to wake up, dearest Ammy. There’s still work to be done.” she cooed. She swiped her hand through the machine for the cortical psychic patch, and it fritzed and disconnected itself from the youngling. He began stirring, and the femme smiled. “Come now, don’t be difficult. Wake up, little brother.” she whispered, her hand swiping through the restraints. They disengaged, and the Autobot fell to his knees on the floor.

That was enough to snap Knock Out out of his staring, and he made to get up and stop whatever this all was when he felt a clawed servo dig into his shoulder. He glanced back, seeing another pale, ghostly shape, this time a large and pointy mech flowing with a deep blue light, and baring sharp dentae at him. “Do not try to stop us, little mech. Will not allow it.” And then the mech glowed brighter for a second, and Knock Out fell back into unconsciousness.

——————————

Smokescreen onlined his optics to the phantom feeling of fingers brushing his cheek. He shook his head, clearing the buzz of static, and his vocalizer clicked with his confusion. He remembered the odd presence in his mind, that had been a part of him but also one not fully integrated, and…he didn’t know what to make of it. It was gone, now, resettled into the back of his processor, but he could still feel it there. It was important. Whatever it was, it was the other half of…whatever is was the voices seemed to desperate for him to remember.

He looked up, doorwings hitching when he saw the ghostly femme. It was the one from his vision. Or had it actually be a memory? If it was, isn’t hadn’t been his. She smiled at him, leaning in to brush lips across his forehelm.

“You must go now, little brother. You have a duty to fulfill. Reclaim the Keys and return to your friends.” she smiled gently. “You’re getting very close, my Ammy. You must remember soon. Cybertron’s children depend on it.” Before he could question her, she stepped back and stood. “I cannot maintain my presence on this plane any longer. The rest is up to you.” And then she was gone.

He blinked, resetting his vocalizer, and glanced over to see the medic was unconscious. He had no idea what was going on. He was starting to accept that this just might be his life now. “Okay then.” he said after a moment.

He stood, and his optics fell on the Phase Shifter on the table by the berth he’d been strapped to. He was quick to grab it and lock it around his wrist, and then he was moving. Most of his escape to the upper deck was a haze. He moved on instinct built in by his training as an Elite Guard, but also….also other instincts, instincts that could only come from that place in the back of his processor that felt like it was a piece of his very spark.

It was when he was in free fall that he was able to pull back to himself, just as his comm. beeped. He accepted it, already knowing who was on the other end.

“Kid!”

Yep, that was Ratchet. “Hey, Ratch!” he said cheerfully, though he couldn’t keep the sheer exhaustion from his voice. “I really, really need a ground bridge right about now!”

“It’s coming kid, just hold on.”

And then there was silence on his end of the comm. line. After a moment, a ground bridge opened under him, and he remembered to turn off the phase shifter, stowing the Omega Keys in his subspace while he was at it. Of course, Megatron chose that moment to slam into him and send him flying. He panicked, and when he tried to turn the phase shifter on again he realized he couldn’t. It had been damaged when Megatron hit him. It would be an easy enough fix…if he could get back to base, that is. Unfortunately, it looked like that wouldn’t be happening. The ground was too close for Ratchet to open up another ground bridge.

“Youngling!” Ratchet’s voice was frantic over the comms. “You’re about to fall into a technological dead zone. We won’t be able to communicate with you or track your-“ and then the signal cut off. Slag. His team couldn’t save him, and Megatron was quickly gaining on his falling form.

If only he had wings and thrusters-!

And then his doorwings and pedes tingled, and he did. That same instinct that had led him out of the Nemesis guided him into turning on the thrusters, and then he was shooting up and away from the ground. He increased power to them, and he was rocketing away from Megatron’s pursuing form. His processor was scrambling like mad, trying to understand why he was suddenly flight capable. This shouldn’t be possible. Only Shifters we’re able to transform so freely and fluidly. But Shifters had also died out generations ago, so he couldn’t be one…could he?

Yes. That increasingly familiar instinct purred.

He kept flying, going and going as his mind buzzed and could never come up with answers. He only stopped when his pedes, or rather his thrusters, started to throb, and he realized he was pushing too much power into them. He landed, stumbling and crashing as his pedes touched down, and he just wanted the unfamiliar additions gone. His frame tingled again, and then they were gone. Though, he realized his pedes still hurt, and when he looked down he saw they were damaged. The injuries had carried over from the thrusters, maybe? It didn’t matter. The others would assume it was Decepticon doing. He wouldn’t correct them. Whatever his frame had done…he didn’t think it was wise to let anyone know just yet.

His comm. beeped again, and he accepted on reflex.

“Smokescreen!” Oh hey, it was Prime. “Youngling, are you harmed? We have picked up your signal once more. How did you get there?”

“I-“ and he couldn’t keep his vocalizer from spitting static as his voice broke due to exhaustion. He reset it, trying again. “I don’t know, Sir.” he said, falling back on ingrained military training. “After I lost communications everything just happened so fast and it’s all just a haze.”

There was silence on the other end, before Prime’s once came back, notably softer. “Ratchet is sending a ground bridge. Just come home for now, Smokescreen. We can worry about the details of your escape once you’ve recovered. Are you hurt?”

The ground bridge spiraled open in front of him, and the young Praxian swallowed. “A little. Mostly tired. I have the Keys.” he said numbly, then dropped the line and stepped through the bridge.

He pulled the Omega Keys from his subspace as he did so. As soon as he stepped into the base, the bridge closed behind him and he pushed the Keys into the arms of the nearest person, who turned out to be Bumblebee. He heard Ratchet curse, and realize the medic probably saw the state of his pedes. Yeah, they weren’t pretty. They were also very, very painful. He turned to the medic to ask him about that, but before he could he felt a small prick in his neck cables, and the was slipping into blissful darkness.

——————————

Back in the forest where Smokescreen had stepped into the bridge, two ghostly forms shimmered into view. One, a golden femme. The other, a midnight mech.

The femme spoke first. “Even in a new frame and with no memories of his true self, Ammy is still the same.” she sounded inexplicably fond.

“Ugh. I would have hoped his lack of memories would grant him the chance to learn maturity.” the mech groused.

She laughed. “Come now, Onyx. You know you love him as much as the rest of us.”

Onyx growled, eyes narrowing. “He has to remember soon,Solus. Otherwise, it may be too late.”

“He will.” Solus said, confident. “Of course, he would remember sooner if Sire would stop being so cryptic and just send him a clear message.”

The two ghostly forms looked at each other, before snorting and devolving to laughter.

“The day Sire abandons his riddles and puzzles is the day the Unmaker decides to become a treat maker. It’s not happening.” Onyx sniggered roughly.

Solus hummed. “No, I imagine not. That just means it’s up to dearest Amalgamous to figure it out on his own. I have faith, though. He’s always been clever.”

Onyx sighed. “You’re right, I know you are. I just wish he’d hurry it up and remember. The fate of Cybertron may well depend on it.”

And then, the two forms faded from this plane and returned to their own, the powers that had allowed them to cross over now spent. All that was left was two swirling eddies of leaves on the wind, in the spaces they had once stood.

———————————————————————————————————

And there it is! It’s all starting to come together at last! Poor Smokescreen still has no idea what’s happening, but he’s getting more and more pieces of the puzzle with each day. This time, he even got a proper memory! And his Shifter abilities are starting to return!

Unfortunately for him, now it’s not just Optimus who suspects that there’s something up with Smokey. Megatron just doesn’t know if the young Autobot is insane, or is it’s something…more.

I hope everyone liked that! It was fun to write. I like Smokescreen. I wish more people did.

As always, my ask box is always open if you want to ask a question about anything to do with me/my blog/my AUs, or if you just want to send in a fic prompt yourself.

Until next time, friends!

#silkling request fics #request fic #Smokescreen is Amalgamous Prime AU #TFP #transformers prime #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen #tfp Megatron #Megatron #tfp knock out #knock out #Solus Prime #Onyx Prime #maccadam #smokescreen is tired #he just wants a good night’s sleep #his dad can’t stop being a cryptic asshole though #Primus loves his children he just doesn’t believe in giving people straight answers #smokescreen is going to throttle Primus when he sees him again #he’s also going to have very pointed questions for Alpha Trion #“WHY DIDN’T YOU EVER TELL ME I AM A REINCARNATION OF YOUR BROTHER.#-smokescreen to alpha trion #in Trion’s defense he was never told #he’s the only original prime not dead so he didn’t REALLY know #he just liked smokescreen cause smokescreen was sort of like Amalgamous #(I mean he IS amalgamous but trion didn’t know. neither did Smokey)

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leftsidebonfire · 2 years

Note

∞

Walk into your waves, my loves, tell 'em all your names Go tell 'em how we failed you and gift to us all your blame 'Cause we'll be all that you hate about yourself so you can grow 'Cause life begins by leaving, and our love is shown in the letting go

-Chords by The Amazing Devil

#Playlist asks #Dwellers-hollow #Asks

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wa-royal-tea · 3 years

Text

Sapphire Court, Brindleton (6:00pm)

Emery: Belle? I’ve prepared some tea and biscuits in the dining room. It’s not much since you came without notice.

Belle: Thank you, Em. You're too kind.

Belle: How've you been? The last time we saw each other was the Winchester costume ball over a year ago.

Emery: I’m doing fine. Just a little bit busy nowadays with you know...parenting?

Belle: I can imagine. You weren't kidding when you said she takes after her mother. I was convinced it was a younger version of her...but she has your eyes.

Emery: Yeah, she’s got everything from her mum except for the eyes.

Belle: Clearly.

Emery: What brought you here?

Belle: A car.

Emery: Very funny. But seriously. Why are you here? I thought your work here is done after yesterday?

Belle: Sofia told me that you tried to convince her to take Ginny back.

Emery: She told you that?

Belle: Of course she did. She was worried for you and Ginny.

Belle: Em, Ginny is your daughter. Not Sofia’s. Why do you want her to raise Ginny?

Emery: You won’t understand.

Belle: Try me.

Emery: I don’t think you'll understand why. You’re not a parent.

Belle: I might not be a mother myself, but I have godchildren and plenty of younger cousins, a niece and a nephew on the way that I know when something is wrong. I have an honors degree in psychology and a Masters in social work. Understanding how people work is my job.

Emery: Well you’ve never had your own child dying in your hands, now do you?

Belle: Children are more resilient than you give them credit for, Emery - Ginny is fine, a picture of health. You made one mistake—

Emery: Then you tell me, Belle. What kind of parent forgets something as crucial as their own child’s allergy? Ginny could’ve died because of my stupidity! Her mother died because of me, and now, she almost died, because of me.

Belle:...do you still blame yourself over what happened to Irene?

Emery: Yes, because it’s true! I failed to protect her. I failed to fulfill my promises to her. And now, I fear Ginny will go through the same thing she did. I don’t want that for her!

Belle: Emery, you are not at fault for her death. Nobody is. It was just her time, as heartbreaking as that is.

Emery:...

Belle: I can’t tell you to stop blaming yourself. If that worked, we wouldn't be here right now. All I can ask is that you start making peace with her death. It's been seven years. What's done is done. The only thing you can do now is focus on your present. You have Ginny to think about now, and she needs her father. You can keep grieving for Irene, but you can’t forget the last gift she left you; your daughter.

Emery: I’m scared, Belle. What if she got hurt again? Eleanor has threatened to take her away from me and I’m afraid with the way things are going right now, she’s going to get Ginny’s custody.

Belle: You're joking.

Emery: I wish. She asked me to see her a month ago. She said Irene wrote her a will before she died. She claimed that Irene wants her to take Ginny away if anything happened to her.

Belle: Irene wouldn't have done that. She trusted you implicitly.

Emery: I know. I called her out on that but she insisted that Irene’s will was real.

Belle: What else did you say to her?

Emery: I told her not to show up in front of me or Ginny again, and I left.

Belle: Let's say the will is real. What are the next steps? Are you going to just let her take Ginny away?

Emery: What? Of course not! I don’t trust her. Never will.

*doorbell rings*

Belle:...you should get that.

Emery: Give me a minute.

Emery: Yes? Can I help you?

Taylor: Hello, I’m Taylor Kingsley from Kingsley Family Law. I will be representing Eleanor Young. My client has filed a petition to change Genevieve Frederick’s custody to her and here are the papers you will need to fill in and respond to. We will contact you in a few days for your response. Have a good day, sir.

Belle: Is that...

Emery: That bitch. She actually did it!

Belle: Calm down, Emery. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We can’t let her get to us.

Emery: I think she already did. I need to call my lawyer.

@carmichealroyals

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#ts4 roleplay #ts4 legacy #WRTStory #Sim: Emery #Sim: Belle #WRT: Part 2 #ts4 storytelling #ts4 story #ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 screenshots #ts4 edit #Story Arc: Emery's Custody Battle

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

Text

How are you doing today? It’s only 1:56AM, but so far I’ve just ate a bowl of ramen and watched a couple YouTube videos. What was the best thing that happened to you today? My ramen was quite delicious, ha. Which cell phone network are you on? Verizon. Do you like the smell of cinnamon? Yesss. What was the last book you've read? I just finished, “The Secret She Kept” by Elle Gray and I’ve started, “Autumn’s Strike” by Mary Stone.

Are you hungry right now? No, I just finished eating. What was the last thing you've had to drink? Water. How often do you visit this website? I’m on Tumblr all the time. Do you like frogs? No. Are you afraid of dying? Yes. Do you like bananas? I love bananas. Do you like the show American Dad? Meh. It has its moments, but overall I’ll pass. I don’t ever watch it by my own choosing, I just catch it here and there because my family watches it. What TV show do you miss the most that's no longer on TV? Gilmore Girls, Degrassi, and True Blood come to mind first. Are you currently fighting with someone right now? No. Is your life full of drama? No. I have other stressful things I’m dealing with, but not of the drama variety. How long can you hold your breath underwater *shrug* Where's the last place you've been to out of state? When I went to Arizona to visit my grandparents about 6 years ago. Have you ever been kissed in the rain? No. What letter does your last name start with. -- What are you listening to right now? I’m watching Gilmore Girls. Have you ever had a pet that died? Yes. Would you rather use a trackpad or a mouse? Trackpad. Do you consider yourself politically intelligent? No, not at all. Have you ever done any volunteer work? Yeah, I’ve done a lot with Girl Scouts, school clubs, and class assignments. Do you like the Beatles? I like some songs. Is it night time where you're at right now? Yeah, it’s 2:08AM. Do you like steak? Nope. Do you eat healthy? No, I definitely don’t. How often do you work out? I don’t. What was the best gift you've ever received? I couldn’t possibly choose. Have you ever participated in a spelling bee? Nope. If you could have one wish right now, what would it be? Good health. Do you owe anyone an apology right now? I kind of do. Are you the jealous type of person? I can be, but it’s not something I feel much. Or at least haven’t felt in a long time. I feel envy more. Have you ever tried doing yoga? Nah. Do you like getting massages? I’ve never gotten one. Would you rather be too hot or too cold? Cold. Are you good at telling jokes? No, I’m pretty much the worst. I don’t tell many jokes. When was the last time you've attended a sleepover? Several years ago. Tell me one of your pet peeves. Eating sounds. Do you wear glasses? I do. Do you like to keep your nails painted? I haven’t painted my nails for the past few years. Have you ever had a pedicure? Nope. What is your favorite smell? I have several favorites. Do you like the TV show Full House? I do. Would you rather listen to country music or rap music? I like both. Are you a Duck Dynasty fan? Nope. Have you graduated high school yet? Uh, yeah, back in 2008. What kind of person were you in middle school? Quiet, shy, awkward. Nothing has changed. Do you have any major regrets in your life? I have a few. :/ Do you like pixie sticks? Eh. I did as a kid, but I don’t have much interest in them the older I get. Do you like French toast? Mmm, yes. Are you a fast typer? I am. Are you good at doing math in your head? Nope. Or at all. Have you ever played with Silly Putty? Yeah. Do you take in a lot of caffeine daily? I do. I love my caffeine. Do you like watching Football? Nope. Or an sport. What language do you wish you could speak? Spanish. Do you know a lot about history? No, I wouldn’t say that. If we could travel back in time, where would you travel to? Can I travel back to childhood? Would you ever consider joining the military? No. I couldn’t anyway, I’m physically disabled. Are you a cigarette smoker? No. Have you ever done something you didn't want to just to look cool? That’s kind of how it was when I used to drink and smoke. I wasn’t a big drinker or smoker, only did so socially, but still. I also did so on my own accord, I’m not blaming anyone, and I’m not going to say I hated all of it because I did have good times, but there was a big part of me that did so because I felt I had to. My friends liked to do it and I wanted to partake with them and not sit out on the sidelines by myself. It’s just that truth be told I think I would have rarely drank at all if it weren’t for that and likely would have never smoked. It had its fun moments, but I didn’t feel the need to partake all the time like they did. Do you like zombie movies? Nah. Have you seen The Hunger Games? Yep, all of ‘em. Do you have a favorite piece of clothing? All my graphic tees, t-shirt dresses, leggings, and lounge shorts. All my comfy clothes, basically. Do you own any Uggs? Nope. Are you wearing any rings on your fingers? No. Name a TV show that you absolutely can't stand. Most sitcoms today. Do you have any unusual talents? No. Or any kind of talent. Do you look like your age? *shrug* I’ve been told I look younger. Do you feel confident in a bathing suit? Nooo. Do you do a lot of online shopping? I do. Do you like the Harry Potter films? Yeah. Do you judge people based on their sexual orientation? No. I care about who a person is, their personality, and whether we vibe. Have you ever been told you had an accent? No. Have you ever ridden an elephant? Nope. Are you allergic to pollen? I do have seasonal allergies. Have you ever eaten sushi? Ew, yes. Not a fan. If so, do you like it? Nope. Are you a fan of anime? No. Would you rather play Xbox or Playstation? Playstation. Are you a big fan of seafood? I don’t like seafood at all. What kind of food are you craving right now? I’m good right now. Are you currently in a relationship? No. If not, are you happy being single? Yeah, it’s for the best. Do you like to go fishing? No. Are you a fast runner? I used to be. I don’t have the energy or strength anymore for that.

Have you ever worked at a fast food place? Nope. What's on your mind right now? Now I’m thinking about food cause of some of the previous questions. Are you texting anyone as you're taking this survey? No. Have you ever had a nasty rumor spread about you? No. Have you ever sent someone sexual pictures of yourself? No. Do you like who you are on the inside or the outside more? Neither. :/ Are you good at drawing? No, I have no artistic abilities. Do you know how to dance? Nope. What's your favorite reality TV show? Catfish, Teen Mom OG, Teen Mom 2, The Voice... Do you think Kim Kardashian deserves to be famous? I don’t care. Are you excited for Christmas this year? I’m always excited for Christmas. Do you celebrate Halloween? I mean, I put up some decor, watch scary movies, and partake in treats. I stopped dressing up and carving pumpkins a few years ago. Have you ever had a concussion? No. Do you pretend to be someone you're not? No. I certainly wouldn’t pretend to be... *gestures vaguely* this. Do you listen to heavy metal music? No. Were you sad when Michael Jackson died? I was just surprised. Do you have more upper or lower body strength? I barely have any strength anymore it feels like, but I used to have really great upper body strength. Have you ever been in a tanning bed? No, and never want to be. Do you like hot tubs? No. Do you know anyone who is battling cancer? No. Have you ever donated money to a charity? Yes. Do you get bored easily? More so nowadays. I didn’t used to. Have you ever peed your pants in public? Maybe as a little kid. Are you afraid of roller coasters? Yes, except for the Cars and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad roller coasters at Disneyland. Are you good at doing tongue twisters? Not really. What was the last movie you've seen in theatres? Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. Have you ever been to a drive-in movie? Yeah, a few times but it’s been a long time. I’ve been wanting to go to one, though. Are you good at doing fractions? Meh. I’m alright. Me and math don’t get along, but I could do some things somewhat. What is your favorite holiday? Christmas and Halloween. Do you prefer Apple or Android? Apple. Would you rather have a tablet or a computer? Computer. Do you like things that are touch screen? Yeah. What age did you have your first kiss at? 16. Do you regret losing your virginity to whoever you lost it to? I’m still a virgin. Do you have a good relationship with your mother? Yes. Do you like the color lime green? Sure. What are your plans for tomorrow? I don’t have any. Would you rather wear jeans or yoga pants? Yoga pants. Do you like your clothes to be baggy and comfortable or tight and revealing Baggy and comfy. Do you wish you could change something about your hair? Yeah, it’s really not a good look right now. I pretty much chopped it off a couple months ago for reasons and it’s in that awkward phase as it grows out. I want it to be longer and dyed red again because currently it’s all natural and I don’t like it. Have you ever gotten a makeover? Yeah. Do you get mad easily? No. but I get frustrated and irritable easily. Have you ever punched someone in the face? No. Do you think the minions from Despicable Me are cute? Ehh. Did you have a Gameboy as a child? I did. Would you rather have chocolate or gummy worms? Chocolate. I’m not a gummy fan. What are your favorite pizza toppings? Extra cheese, garlic, green onions, spinach, cilantro, crushed meatballs, and pesto. Have you ever auditioned for a talent competition? No. I don’t have any talent. Do you make good sandwiches? I think theyr’e better from a deli or when my mom makes them haha but sure. Would you rather get high or get drunk? High. Have you ever failed a drug test? Nope. Do you like the Silent Hill movies? I actually haven’t seen them. What is one thing you need to work on to make yourself a better person? I have a few things I need to work on.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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mythologyfolklore · 3 years

Text

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 22

Chapter twenty-two: Apollon's birthday

It was rare, that Ares and Apollon actually got along.

But their roles in the Trojan War four hundred mortal years earlier had given them a thing or two to bond upon.

Today was Apollon's birthday.

The god of light, music, healing and plagues made surprisingly little fuss about it, considering how often he insisted on being in the centre of attention, like the pretentious prick he often was. Yet, when it came to celebrating the anniversary of the day he was born, he asked for it to be treated like any other day. He never threw a party or allowed the others to throw him one, though he did accept birthday gifts and wishes. He didn't even remind people, that it was his birthday. Which was why it happened sometimes, that one god or the other completely forgot about it.

Ares wasn't one of those gods – he always remembered his siblings' and half-siblings' birthdays, every single one. That was his subtle way of showing, that he cared.

And that was why today he was himself to sit with his half-brother and endure his fancy and pretentious music, even though he hated it. Ares liked the sound of war flutes and Spartan war drums, but apart from that, music wasn't his thing at all.

The Mousai weren't present (they were busy spreading inspiration on earth), so the two so opposite half-brothers were alone – except for all the animals, who had heard Apollon's music and had gathered to listen. The god just had that inviting and calm vibe, that drew animals in, especially when he sang and played his lyre. Ares on the other hand had a farouche and cold aura, which kept most at a distance.

When an old she-wolf placed her head onto Apollon's lap, he paused his music for a moment.

“Hello there, old girl”, he chuckled and fondly stroked her head.

Ares couldn't help but sigh in relief, because he had been close to falling asleep from the lulling music.

Apollon looked up. “Ares, you don't have to sit here and listen to me. I know you don't like my kind of music.”

“Meh, it's fine”, Ares assured him. “Just thought I might as well relax a little.”

The younger god smiled: “If it's relaxing enough for you to fall asleep, I do not mind. Besides, you look like you could use a nap. And a make-over.”

The war god blinked. “Huh? Do I have bags under my eyes again?”

“And dark rims. Also a few frowning wrinkles here and there. You look like an overworked middle-aged mortal.” The blond handed him a mirror.

Ares beheld his own reflection and laughed: “Oh fuck, you're right! I look like shit!”

He concentrated on his reflection, his face freshened up and he looked as youthful as gods were supposed to (though he still looked older than the other second generation Olympians).

“Better”, the war god nodded in satisfaction. “An' don't worry, Sunny. I'm fine. I just didn't get any sleep last night, no thanks to Zeus an' Hera.”

“If you say so”, the god of healing said doubtfully.

“Trust me on that”, Ares assured the younger man, despite both of them knowing, that he was lying – the fact, that he was referring to his own parents by their names gave it away. But the god of truth had the tact to accept the lie without back talk.

“I still think you should treat yourself to a day off for self-care, though.”

“Ya know I take care of myself as best as I can. I treat my body like a temple.”

“That's true”, the other admitted. “You have your physique to show for it.”

“Damn right.” Ares grinned and elbowed him playfully. “Admit it, ya like my looks. I've seen ya checkin' me out.”

“I wouldn't deny it, even if I could”, Apollon admitted candidly. “You are quite a handsome man – but also really unlikeable. So do me a favour and don't think I'm into you, just because my eyes have been wandering.”

“Rest assured, I don't”, the older god replied. “I wouldn't want ya to be anyway. Ya know how I feel about gettin' involved in that stuff. Speakin' o' which …”

“Yes?”

“When are ya gonna tell Hermes?”

The blond blushed bright scarlet and began to stutter helplessly, until Ares finally took pity. “Never mind, just take yer time. There's no such thing as bein' too prepared, after all.”

Apollon arched an eyebrow. “That's coming from the war god, who rushes into battle and immediately starts slaughtering people left and right, without so much as an actual plan?”

“We're not talkin' about my main job here”, Ares retorted. “I separate my work from my private life. My work is wreakin' havoc among mankind an' bringin' war, as well as performin' the duties of a crown prince – ya know, representation, paper work, all that jazz.”

Awkwardly, Apollon rubbed the back of his neck and admitted sheepishly: “I always forget that you're the crown prince and how dutiful you really are – how much father trusts you with.”

Ares shrugged: “It's okay. Besides, the fewer people know, how much I know, the better. I don't need them pesterin' me with questions about stuff I've sworn to be silent about.”

The blond smiled wryly. “Pretty ironic, how much we know and how little of it we're allowed to tell, isn't it?”

“It is”, Ares agreed. “An' you've seen how Daddy's Owl of all gods failed miserably to handle my princely duties; how she got us into trouble with the Romans.”

Apollon shook his head. “I can't believe she failed at that. Of Pallas Athena, one would expect that she's careful and tactful.”

“Don't blame her”, Ares told him. “She's got the brains for it alright. What she lacks is experience. An' she never got the chance to get it, 'cause I'm not allowed to talk to anyone about it, let alone tell 'em how that stuff works. That stuff is confidential, it's between Zeus, grandaunt Thémis an' me, just like the works of fate are between him and you. There was no way she could've known, especially with how introverted she is.”

“I suppose you're right”, the younger god relented. “But still … you saw them back then. They were so … it was as if they were just waiting for an excuse to come at us.”

“Oh trust me, they were!”, Ares grumbled. “I've been dealing' with them for many centuries. The empire they're dreamin' of is yet to come, yet they're already itching to subjugate the entire Mediterranean, like the hubristic and power-hungry fucks they are (especially Mars – ugh, I hate that arsehole!). Even though as to date Roma is just a small city in Italy, they already act like they own the world- hey, Apollon, are you okay? Shit, what's wrong, you're shaking!”

“Ares … did you hear, what Mars said, before you interrupted?”

“I came right in as he was getting into my mother's face and started to brag about their so-called glorious future.”

“And he said, that he and his pantheon could always fix their problem of not having a god like me … Ares, you should have seen his face!”

“Oh, I did!”, the older god snarled. “And I swear on my immortality, if the situation hadn't been so dire, I would've run a spear through him right then and there!”

“I've seen the future”, Apollon choked out – he was obviously on the verge of tears. “I've seen what is going to happen. The Roman gods and their mortals are going to … they're going to … oh Khaos, I'm frightened!”

“Hey! Hey!”

Before the light god could have a full-on panic attack, Ares grabbed his shoulders.

“Stop!”, he ordered, calmly but sternly. “Look at me. Deep and slow breaths, do you hear me? Deep an' slow.”

Wanting to help a little more, he allowed Apollon to lean into him. Ares hated body contact, but his younger half-brother needed the physical proximity right now. So he sucked it up and gently rubbed the other's back, as the blond sobbed into his shoulder.

“Shhhh …”, he murmured, “Yes, that's right … just breathe. Listen, okay? Whatever scares you, it's yet to come. It's far ahead. Focus on the now. You're safe. You're with family. No one can hurt you now. Everyone and everything's alright. Shhhh …”

Somewhere along the line, the animals that were still here drew nearer and nuzzled the blond, sensing his distress in the way that only animals really could.

Ares couldn't help but chuckle at the display. “Animals really love ya, huh?”

“So what?”, Apollon grumbled defensively. “Not everyone can be the unapproachable, stoic guy you are!”

“You flatter me, but I wasn't making fun of you. Here …” The black-and-red-haired god charmed a box of tissues into his hand and offered it to the other. “Want some?”

The Archer accepted the tissues and dabbed his face. “Thanks. Crap, that was pathetic …”

“Don't say that. It's not pathetic to be scared of the future – especially, if you know how shitty it's gonna be. But if you let it distract you from the present, it'll hurt you and ruin your life. So let's not talk about the future anymore, hm? After all, today's your birthday.”

He felt the younger god sigh into the crook of his neck.

“You're right. Thank you, Ares. For being so understanding.”

The war god chuckled: “Hey, we may not get along most of the time, but you're still my brother.”

“Half-brother”, Apollon corrected. “Do you remember, how you used to remind me of that all the time? How you always called me 'bastard', 'whoreson' and other charming things like that, and used the epithets 'Letoides' and 'Latôios'¹ in the most derogative manner you could?”

Ares laughed sheepishly: “Oh yeah. I did that, didn't I? Sorry for that.”

He could hear the smile in Apollon's voice, as he accepted the apology.

Eventually the light god backed away. “I think I'm better now. Thanks again. I really needed that, I guess.”

“Yeah, I could tell. An' you're welcome.” Then he had an idea and smirked lopsidedly: “So, Sunny. Wanna hear somethin' crazy?”

The younger god shrugged: “Sure, what is it?”

“Has anyone ever told you I can actually sing?”

Apollon chortled: “Yeah, right! I'll believe it when I hear it!”

The older god's grin widened: “Play one of those cheerful dancin' songs you always perform at Dionysos' parties. And I'll sing to it.”

Apollon grinned back and picked up his cithara. “Alright, Andreiphontês². Show me what you've got!”

Athena was making pottery again.

Apparently Zeus and Hera had had another vicious domestic and a lot of earthenware had got shattered. So they needed new vases and pots.

With a sigh she molded the rim of the pot.

Really, when would her father and his wife finally get to their senses and get marriage counselling or something like th-

“ATHENA, I NEED YOUR HELP!!!”

Athena yelped in surprise, as Hermes bust through the door, and accidentally squashed the still soft clay pot, rendering her work for nothing.

“Thanks a lot, Hermes! Now my work is ruined and I have to start all over!”, Athena snapped, scrapped the clay and angrily threw it into a bucket of water.

“I'm sorry”, he mumbled in the smallest voice she had ever heard him speak with.

That made her sit up more straightly.

“What do you want, Hermes?”, she sighed. “Please make it quick, because Zeus and Hera are going through earthenware like papyrus and I have a lot of work still ahead of me.”

“…”

The goddess's bright blue eyes narrowed. “You better not walk away like 'it wasn't important after all', after you made me ruin my own work! You busted in here and yelled at me to help you, so whatever it is, spit it out!”

“I … I just … want advice for a present.”

Athena blinked and tilted her head. “Present?”

“Yes … present. Because today is Apollon's birthday.”

“Oh.”

Forgotten was the ruined pot.

It had almost slipped her mind (just almost, but still), that there was a birthday today (because for some incomprehensible reason Apollon insisted, that the mortals should celebrate his birthday, but not his fellow gods). He didn't even bother to remind others, when it was his birthday, even though it clearly hurt him, when they forgot.

“You want my advice on what you should gift him?”, Athena queried, as she washed her hands. “Listen, I may be the goddess of good counsel, but you know Apollon much better than I d- oh no, Hermes, no! Don't give me that look! Stop it! Stop giving me those puppy eyes! Anything but those damn puppy eyes!”

“Pweeeeaase”, Hermes whined and the puppy eyes intensified.

She sighed and dried her hands off. “Alright, fine. Well, I think you should give him something useful. Something he could use in everyday life. Hmm … he already has a lot of tunics and brooches and so on … oh, how about a hairband? With his impossibly long hair, he could always use one. Wait, I think I have a few pretty ones …”

She went over to her cupboard, got a wooden box from it and put it onto the table. “Here you go. You can pick two out of these – only two”, she added warningly, when Hermes eyed the hairbands with a scheming expression.

The god of thieves huffed, but began to search through the bands for two he deemed good enough.

But he seemed to have trouble deciding. “I don't know, they're all so pretty …”

“Pick something that fits his hair and eye colour”, Athena advised.

Hermes muttered under his breath, as he rummaged through the box.

Eventually he gasped and picked out two hairbands – both ruby red with golden embroidery.

“Ohhh, these are perfect!”, he squealed in delight. “They'd look so beautiful in his hair! Thank you so much, Athena! You're the best big sister! Oh boy, I hope he likes his birthday present! Bye!”

Then he made off with the new hairbands.

The goddess of wisdom sighed and inspected the box, if more than two hairbands were missing. And sure enough, that little bastard had stolen three: a dark green one, a bright blue one and one coloured like bronze.

The black-haired woman shook her head with a fond sigh.

That silly, little kleptomaniac …

Hermes hurried across Olympos, eager to deliver his own present.

It took a while to find the person it was intended for.

To his great surprise, he found Apollon sitting with Ares on the sill of a large window.

To his even bigger surprise, Apollon was playing his lyre and Ares was singing to it.

That sight was absurd in a lot of ways, last but not least because of the fact, that those two almost never got along and had absolutely nothing in common, save their father and their terrifying anger.

Hermes hid behind a pillar and spied on the two from behind it.

The two so different half-brothers seemed to be having fun.

Something about this bothered Hermes. A lot.

Why are these two sitting so close together, why are they genuinely laughing with each other, why are they smiling like that, since when do these two make music together, Ares doesn't even like music, this makes no sense whatsoever, since when does Ares even like spending time with Apollon, hey you big bully, get away from my beautiful sunshine, wait, when the fuck did I start thinking like that, what the fuck is even going on here-

Luckily, before the brunet could rile himself up he remembered, that Ares was very much straight and Apollon wasn't into people with Ares' demeanour.

Hermes giggled. Silly him! He'd been jealous, just because those two were getting along for a change!

Apparently the two men had heard his giggling, because they abruptly stopped their music and looked around in alarm.

“Did ya hear that?”, Ares noted.

“Yes, and I do hope that was just Hermes”, Apollon remarked.

“SURPRISE!”, Hermes shouted, jumping out of his hiding place.

The other two men screamed and Apollon dropped his lyre in shock. The animals that had been chilling with them, hurried to escape the perceived danger.

“DAMMIT, SQUIRT!”, Ares squalled, “WHY'D YA SNEAK UP ON US LIKE THAT?!”

“Yes, for shame!”, Apollon gasped out. “That was uncalled for, Hermes!”

“Are you kidding?”, Hermes cackled, “That was a riot! You should have seen your faces-” But his laughter died instantly, when he saw Ares' dark expression.

“No, squirt, seriously! That wasn't funny! Sunny Boy had a mental breakdown earlier! His nerves are still raw as fuck and the last thing he needs is to have the crap scared out of him!”

The Messenger blanched, tackled hugged the blond god and grabbed his face.

“What happened?! Please tell me!”, he pleaded.

“Hermes, let go, I'm okay now-”

“No, you're not!”, Hermes cut him off. “Look at you, you're still so pale! Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that!”

“It's nothing, I'm better now, really”, the older god tried to reassure him. “Would you please let go of my face?”

“Oh. Sorry”, the brunet muttered and complied. “Can you tell me what happened now? And how you two of all gods could … uh …”

“Sit together an' actually have some fun?”, Ares supplied.

The Messenger nodded: “Yeah. That.”

“Eh, we just bonded over confidential business – and no, I won't tell ya what it was”, Ares added pointedly, when the other opened his mouth. “I just said it was confidential. And everybody knows that you can't keep a secret for shit, unless we make ya swear the Stygian Oath. So, sorry. Not tellin'.”

Hermes frowned.

He hated when others had secrets from him, especially Apollon.

The god of sunlight, truth and prophecy was actually incapable of lying, so his only other option was to either speak in riddles, or fall silent altogether. It didn't matter what option Apollon chose, because being unable to be open always took a great toll on him.

By contrast, Ares was a natural; he dodged, lied, cheated, countered any attempt at prying and feigned ignorance, like it was second nature to him (which Hermes was sure it was). What he refused to reveal, people would never know.

But this time, much to Hermes' relief, Apollon told Ares, that it was fine.

Ares shot him a doubtful look, but told Hermes: “He's seen the future and it fucks him up, because the future sucks and the Roman gods do too. That's all I can say.”

The Messenger nodded, knowing he would have to make with that answer. “Alright. Whelp, I'm sorry for my crappy timing. Should I come back later?”

Apollon smiled: “No, no. Stay here. Let's talk about more pleasant things. What did you come here for?”

“Oh, right!”, Hermes cried and flashed the blond a mischievous grin.

The blond's golden eyes narrowed. “What are you plotting, you little cattle thief?”

The brunet laughed: “Just hold still and close your eyes!”

Apollon arched an eyebrow, but complied.

The younger god giggled and lost no time in tying up the other's long hair with the new red ribbons. They really did go perfectly with those golden curls.

“What are you doing?”, the older god demanded to know.

“Just you wait … there! All done!”

Apollon opened his eyes and blinked in confusion, as Hermes held a mirror in front of him and one behind his head.

“Look! I got you new hair ties! Aren't they pretty?”

The brunet didn't fail to notice, how the cutest blush ever spread over the older god's pale face.

“Yes … yes, they are”, Apollon said and turned his head to smile at his younger half-brother. “Thank you, Hermes. I love them.”

“Happy birthday, Sunshine!”, the Messenger laughed happily and gave the other a warm hug.

Suddenly there was a click – reminding both, that Ares was still here. And currently smirking at them from behind his camera.

“You two are hopeless!”, the black-and-red-haired god snickered and put his camera back into the bag he always carried about.

Apollon began to stutter in embarrassment, while Hermes just stuck his tongue at his oldest half-brother.

“Oh shut up, you mystery-monger!”, the brunet retorted. “You hate music and I still caught you sing with him earlier! Speaking of which …”, he smirked, “… I didn't know you can sing! You sure have an amazing singing voice for someone, who despises musical activities! What a hidden talent you are!”

“If you tell anyone, that you heard me sing, I'll rip out your tongue!”, the war god snarled.

Hermes put his arms up. “Alright, damn! Relax! I was joking! Seriously, I don't see what your problem is!”

“To be honest, neither do I”, Apollon agreed.

Ares huffed: “Ya mean, apart from the fact, that I'm the god of terrible war an' singin' pretty songs doesn't fit into my reputation? It annoys me, when people ask me to sing for them. I know I can sing, but it's not really a hobby of mine. My hobbies are … ya know …”

“Blood and thunder!”, Hermes groaned. “Yes, we all know it!”

The war god grinned from ear to ear. Then he stood up. “Anyway, gotta go. Bye!”

Apollon jumped up. “Wait! You can't leave me here alone with him!”

The red-eyed god cackled: “Oh, I can and I will!”

“You're pure evil!”

“I'm necessary evil! Happy birthday, Sunny Boy!”

“Why, you old-!”

“Now, now! Let's not stoop to the level of petty insults! Have fun, ya love birdies!”, Ares sang. Then that belligerent arsehole flew up and away, leaving behind two furiously blushing Olympians.

But once they recovered, Apollon turned to the Messenger and grumbled: “I'm telling you, Hermes, he's pure evil!”

“A first class jerk!”, Hermes agreed. “Still, did he give you anything for your birthday?”

Apollon's expression softened instantly and he nodded, smiling.

In that moment the brunet understood.

To spend some time with the blond and let him talk about his cares: that had been Ares' birthday present.

---

1) Letoides/Latôios: Son of Leto (one of Apollon's epithets) 2) Andreiphontês: Men-Destroyer (one of Ares' epithets)

#Greek Mythology #ares #apollon #Hermes #athena

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allyvampirelass29 · 4 years

Text

Goodnight, Chris McQueen

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

I love you, Brat I hope you know that....... My biggest fear was becoming my old man Drinkin', philanderin', livin' for nothin' I wanted so much more for my little girl But Babe, I'm just like him A haunted soldier That never came back from the war I tried so hard to make you laugh Just so you didn't see me cryin' Funny names, and stupid jokes I guess, don't band-aid the holes Punched through the walls and in Your mother's heart Jesus, maybe this dad thing Was a cosmic hoax right from the start I love you like a big dog I'd die twice just to give you a hug Before I go, I want you to know I'm proud of my kid I could never do what you did It's like you told your ma You're made of steel, Vic You threw the bottle away You sure as hell didn't need me But you let your broken down dad save the day I ain't half the hero to you though As you are to Wayne Give 'em HELL, Babe Fight the good fight Don't cry over me I won't die as I lived A good for nothin' It's gonna mean somethin' I gotta believe Don't stay here, Brat, trapped in my death scene Remember the good stuff, when they say "Goodnight, Chris McQueen."

In the words of the illustrious Linda McQueen........ "Holy HELL." It's been days, and I've been in a morose fog, only just now emerging, shaking and fighting the tears, even as I write this, half numb, and half agony. I'm shocked, dismayed, and altogether fragile. The second I saw that this episode was going to be called, "Chris McQueen," I couldn't have been more thrilled, and my heart soared, excited! Chris McQueen has SHINED this season, our own resident white knight, slaying Vic's demons, both of the vice, and supernatural variety. It was no mistake, or random shuffle of fate, that her magic bridge led her back to her dad. He's been a gun-wielding, bomb-making, godsend!!! He helped her quit drinking, heartbroken that his little girl had inherited his disastrous coping mechanisms, refusing to let it drown her the way it did him. He's fought at her side, let her lean on him, he's become her safe place. He's given her the best advice about fighting for Lou, choosing her family, and oh yeah, he SINGLEHANDEDLY took on Bing Partridge, not just once, but TWICE!!!

If NOS4A2 has a CHAMPION, a dark horse in the game, it's hands down Chris McQueen. If anyone is deserving of their own personal, entitled episode, it's the vindicated father who did the work, fought like HELL for his redemption, made himself a better person for his daughter. That rush of flooding joy, cooled to wary concern, and hesitant dread, however, when I realized....... This honour could be his final tribute.......

Don't kill Chris McQueen........ I pleaded over and over in my mind, the frantic cry, resounding, even as I pressed play. I hadn't been able to shake that sinister, creeping feeling all day, and when we opened onto Chris at a funeral, my relief flooded in, graciously thankful to see him alive!!! Wait, he looked younger, like WAY younger, even younger than the first season, and oh my god, hold on, whose funeral is this!? Someone died........ my stomach knotting again, trying to figure out who, and we realize that this is Chris, decades ago, speaking at his Dad's funeral.

I loved, and I mean LOVED this opener. It's just so beautifully real, and one hundred percent Chris McQueen, as he muses about his father's life, and his own, and how the two came to mirror each other. He's funny, irreverent, vulnerable, and by the end, absolutely heartbreaking. It's a searing portrait of a broken man, and everything that caused his life to fracture, every death, that made him wish he was never born.

"When I came back from the gulf, I finally understood why he was pissed off all the time, because he knew there was no reason for him to born, and that nobody was going to give a shit when he died."

Chris' voice cracks, and my eyes sting, because I feel it, his greatest fear, and I know he's not just talking about his father, he's talking about himself, effectually delivering his own eulogy, and again I implored the fates...... Don't kill Chris McQueen.

Aaaaaaaaah, and HELLO Baby Vic!!! Oh my gosh, she's so precious, about eight years old, frowning as her father speaks, huddled close to her mother, and then when Chris becomes too overwhelmed with his anger and emotions to go on, tearing out of the church, she frantically chases after him, calling for him!!! Even then, she was her daddy's girl!!! Once again, I must COMMEND NOS4A2 for choosing the perfect miniature of our badass leading lady, because this girl is the very IMAGE of Ashleigh, and it was such a joy to see her fierce features, and resolve, in a dear little face!!! More Baby Vic, PLEASE!!!

Flashforward to the present day, and Team McQueen is ready and raring to hit the road. I loved this entire scene. The love between her and Lou as she tells him goodbye, and says, "I'm going to go get our boy." An achingly beautiful moment, these two give me life, and have become my FAVOURITE couple on the show!!! I may have been purely Team Drew Butler, Season One, but now I can't imagine our beautiful badass without her Teddy Bear Man, and I ship McCarmody so freaking hard!!! Vic revs the Triumph's engine, testing it, gearing up with her Dad, and it hits me....... She doesn't have to hide it, sneak away to go do her Creative Hero thing, he accepts her for exactly who she is, believes in her gift enough to go with her. For the first time..... Vic McQueen isn't riding alone........

Linda is an absolute rollicking delight, emphatic in her protest, and I have just come to LOVE her so much!!! "I don't know about this Vicki, taking explosives across a magical bridge IN THE RAIN!!!!" God BLESS this woman, she's so maternal here, and I love it, I see how much she's changed, becoming this mother and ex wife even, that isn't afraid to express her feelings and doubts, no longer shackled by the fear that she's destined to be alone.

"You're my only kid, Vicki, My Baby."

"You know me, Ma, made of steel, remember?"

Awwwwww oh my gosh, so freaking CUTE, and for the first time, they feel like a real family, The McQueen Clan on a Mission, slaying psychotic kidnappers, and rescuing lost children, becoming the family business. Linda's still unsure, hurrying after Chris and Vic, still thinking they're both CRAZY, when she sees it for the first time....... Her eyes widen impossibly, as a rickety, wooden, covered bridge, appears on the street in front of them, and her reaction is EVERYTHING we've been waiting for, I found myself, leaping off the couch, cheering as she says it. "Holy HELL!!!"

Chris' childlike wonder, as he looks up into the dark eves, and watches the bats flutter, the Triumph roaring through the beams of breaking light, weaving in and out of shadow, is such a joy to behold. He believed in it, believed in her, even without seeing, and it means that much more to Vic, you can tell. It's also symbolic, Vic sharing her world with her father, bringing him into her inscape, fighting the good fight TOGETHER, both soldiers. I loved it, every second.

Surprise, surprise, when they roll up to the junkyard, Bing Partridge isn't dead, because some cockroaches just won't DIE!!!! Like an AVENGING ANGEL, Chris McQueen is all of us, flying off that bike, and assailing Bing with murderous fury, backhanding his stupid face with the gun, over and over, impaling him deeper with the protruding rod, and I swear, I wanted to run to him, and HUG him so tightly, so freaking PROUD!!!! THANK YOU, CHRIS MCQUEEN!!!

"Where is he, you SICK, Son of a BITCH!?!?"

"HE CAN'T HELP US IF HE'S DEAD!!!!!"

Vic screams at her father, angrily chastising this good and proper beating that has been a LONG time coming!!!! I'm sorry, isn't that how ANY sane person would react to a sadistic, murdering, rapist whose made their life a LIVING HELL!? What gives, Victoria!? Chris falls back, as confused as I was, and then shakes his head, as he apologizes vehemently, which Vic is having none of. She's AWFUL to her father from this moment forward, rude and spiteful, blaming him for everything, and as much as I love the girl, in this unjust punishment, she REALLY lives up to her nickname, Brat.

This Kids Glove approach to Bing Partridge is MADDENING enough to make me PSYCHOTIC!!! BING. IS. EVIL. Say it with me, NOS4A2!!!! It's like they are hellbent on redeeming the ONE character that is beyond saving, a man that even God, himself, would look at reviled, and say, "Get thee behind me, SATAN!!!" Last week they failed, first through the deus ex machina epiphany, and then through the attempted murder/suicide, so they tried even harder, using a meeker approach, making him say manipulative propaganda like, "I wish I'd never met Mr. Manx, because then Vic McQueen would still be my friend." and "I'm all alone in here, and it's really scary." Ughhhh somebody, anybody, put us out of our misery, and put one right between his beady little rat bastard eyes.

I almost understand Tabitha's need to keep things professional, and speak to Bing, in a reassuring way that reaches his simple, monosyllabic mind. I get that beating the living hell out of him like he so obviously deserves isn't an option for her, but this man is a HEINOUS criminal, who's kidnapped kids, drugged and raped their mothers, KILLED both of his parents, not to mention TORTURED Charlie within an inch of his life, only just last week!!!! But by ALL MEANS, Vic, go HOLD HANDS WITH HIM, and see if that will help get your son back!!!! Cringe.

I HATED this, so, so, SO much!!! Bing was her friend, he betrayed her, violated the trust between them, became her worst nightmare, shot at her, traumatized her, duct-taping her to a chair, she should HATE him, despise the sight of him far more than Charlie Manx!!! I CRAVED a reckoning, even if it was just a verbal assault. But no, instead, Vic decides to play nice, and I get that most of it was an act to convince him to help her get her son back, but I could also feel NOS4A2's misguided hand in her actions. Look, see, even Vic can find the good in Bing!!!! Sigh. Not gonna lie, I was going to scream bloody murder if she said she forgives him!!!

Good Cop pays off, however, and Bing, desperate for Vic's forgiveness, reveals there is one more stop before Christmasland, one last chance to grab Wayne, when he gets out of the Wraith at Sleigh House to hang his ornament. It's a dawning revelation, intel quintessential to their success, and for once they know where Charlie is going to be, before he gets there, and can lay a trap for him and his indestructible car. I hate the way they arrived at the information though, I'd have much preferred to see Bing suffer for his sins, and the whole interaction is just so laughably implausible. I will say this however, there was a rather BEAUTIFUL line in this scene that Bing couldn't begin to deserve, but I LOVED it all the same. "I miss the person I thought you were." My god, that's powerful.

"Chris McQueen," is a STELLAR episode, full of beautiful lines like this, including my FAVOURITE thing that Maggie has EVER said to Vic, which perfectly exemplifies their eccentric friendship!!! "I'd shank a thousand assholes for your mopey ass!!!" YES!!! I LOVE THAT SO MUCH!!! I will say though, that I was SHOCKED at how cool Vic was with Maggie's scary new trick of hurting herself to use her powers, sans seizures. I thought she was going to kick her butt for that!!! I'm really worried, Guys, this is a dangerous addiction, that's going to be the hardest one yet for Mags to quit!!! The break-up with Tabitha was bittersweet, but it did not come as a shock to me. They'd been drifting apart for awhile now, and I feel like Maggie was so scared of losing her, that she was afraid to be herself. "I want to live in the real world all the time." For me, that was the nail in the coffin, having only heard it about a thousand times myself. Maggie will always be living in two worlds, and whoever she's with MUST accept that. They love each other, yes, but they just want different things. I do respect Tabitha so much for not demanding that Maggie give up her tiles, threatening to leave her if she didn't. She'd rather let Maggie go be herself, be happy, than try to stifle her, shove her into that hateful, constricting little box called normal.

Vic continues to be petty, and spiteful towards her father, treating him WAY too harshly, punishing him, when he's done nothing but fight for her, a literal action HERO, avenging Wayne, and kicking ASS!!! It hurt my soul, and I could see the pain in his eyes, thinking he'd failed her, apologizing again, just wanting her forgiveness. The second scene at the McQueen house is a far less fuzzy one, as she forbids her father to come with her, placing all the blame of every bad thing that's happened thus far on his shoulders, and she cuts him with razor edged words, saying the worst thing that she could have possibly said in that moment, something truly unforgivable, that I already know she will spend the rest of her life, regretting.

"I lived eight years of my life without you, Dad, and I can just as easily do it again." She sneers, and even Linda stares, aghast. "Vicki, no, you don't mean that!!!"

I felt the pangs in my heart, stunned that she could be that vicious to her own father, after all he's done for her, getting sober, changing his whole life, hell, getting HER sober!!! Linda is again so adorable, insisting she take Chris with her, like "Vicki let your father play on your magical bridge, if he wants!!!" not wanting him to feel left out, and while I want more father/daughter explosive awesomeness, I'm conflicted whether or not he should go. If he stays here...... he's safe. Eventually Linda's persuasion wins out. "Don't let your anger towards your father, keep you from getting back Wayne." With a frustrated sigh, Vic shoves a black helmet in Chris' hands, and we're off to the races again. "Bring them home," Linda whispers sweetly, embracing him tight, and as they hug, I get the most sinking feeling that it's for the last time. Dont...... Don't kill, Chris Mcqueen.

Vic and Chris work in silence, once they get to the charred foundation of Sleigh House in Colorado, burying the handmade bombs, and finally Chris can't take it anymore. "Is this how you want it, Brat?" He asks her, heartbroken, and Ashleigh's acting is PHENOMENAL, as she breaks down and reveals the truth behind her unprovoked animosity.

"It's easier to be mad at you, than to blame myself."

"None of this is your fault. Charlie Manx is not your fault."

"I want to forgive you, because if I don't, how can Wayne ever forgive me. But I can't just let myself off the hook!!!"

It's not entirely a make-up, but it's an important conversation, something she's been wrestling with for a long time. Chris is again AMAZING, consoling her, easing her guilt, even while she's the one that's been impossible. Again Vic, I love you, but your father did the absolute RIGHT thing, and he's the only one that did right by Bing, as far as I'm concerned.

Maggie and Lou join the dynamite father/daughter duo in Colorado, and I LOVED all of their scenes together, the two people in this world that Vic McQueen loves most, and there's something magical about it, something iconic, seeing all three of them together, the Creative Dream Team, united in their crusade against Charlie Manx.

"Every one of these ornaments represents a kid in Christmasland, lost forever. Do you think there's a way to get them back? The other kids?"

WHEN SOULS FALL.

Maggie stares down, perplexed at the tiles, as she arranges them, revealing to the oracle this cryptic, mysticism, and I myself, could NOT breathe. Holy SMASH. Ever since the end of, "Gunbarrel," where Vic wanders through the trees outside Sleigh House, frowning at them, the hundreds of glittering ornaments, swaying in the wind, glowing as she drew near, I just knew...... I KNEW the souls of the Lost Children, were trapped inside each and every one of them, and this suspicion was ever further confirmed, when she found Bradley's canoe ornament, broken open on the ground, after he burnt up in the Wraith. My prediction? To turn the kids back, they have to smash every single one of these ornaments, and only then can the escaped souls return to their vampire shells, and make them human again. The minute a child hangs an ornament, the transformation is complete.

I also LOVED the transcendent scene between Vic and Millie, a scared little girl, in over her head, calling, pleading through the static, and I couldn't help but MARVEL at how much has changed between them. Last Season Millie Manx was very much her father's daughter, cruelly taunting Vic, on her father's behalf, even appearing to her while she was awake, stabbing her with an invisible sword. Now, she calls out to her to be her saviour, her father's greatest enemy, the iron wrought armour of her inherited hatred falling away, and Vic sees her as she always was, not a hollowed out demon spawn, but just a frightened little girl that needs to be set free. I was also THRILLED that dear little Millie imparted the knowledge that Charlie CANNOT die, else all the children, including his daughter, will die with him. Vic abhors Charlie with a screaming vengeance, but now that she knows his death comes at the cost of every child he's ever taken, she won't kill him, she CAN'T kill him, because then all of this, everything she's fought so hard for, bled for, would be for nothing.

The final act is both the thrilling BEST and the incoherent WORST of the episode, as the chaotic music ominously heralds our man's arrival. Charlie Manx, cutting a dashing, imposing silhouette, dark against the hazy dusk, exits the Wraith, turning every which way, striking in profile, floating smoothly across the front of the car, to let Wayne out. I loved this aesthetic, Charlie moving swiftly through the mist and dying light, rising as the threatened dark, enclosing. It's beautiful, and serves two clever purposes. One, to shroud our debonair dark menace in all the more intrigue and mystery, and the other, to conceal just how bad Wayne's gotten. Charlie clasps his hands around Wayne's shoulders lovingly, the picture of paternal pride, and my heart caught, seeing Wayne in the cast light, his boyish curls, frayed and almost white, his skin covered in white blue veins, every one of his teeth, coming to a sharp point.

"Go on, My Boy, it's time to hang your ornament," Charlie chortles handing Wayne the CUTEST little gray, baby bat ornament, I have ever seen, urging him forward. "Choose any branch you like, just make sure it's a SPECIAL branch," Charlie crows, and my heart melts, so in love with both of them, and the way Charlie dotes on him, knowing that while this began as a revenge plot, Charlie has come to love and favour Wayne, like the son he never had. "Don't dilly dally," He warns adorably, with an eyebrow raise, and even this mild scold is too precious for words.

Charlie waits by the Wraith, already nervous, as little Wayne disappears into the grove of trees. I LOVED the Wraith's ADORABLE warning system, as it flashes danger, the car horn honking, and even more I loved Charlie's distressed reaction to it, hurrying over, brow knit, like a father racing to tend to and protect his frightened child. Can I just have this impossibly PERFECT man, that darling little curly-haired boy, and this pretty, shiny car, PLEASE!?!?

"Smart Car," I whisper to myself, as the Wraith senses Vic's presence, and the waiting bombs beneath the ground. Charlie, alarmed, jumps back into his car, to seek out what's got the Wraith in such a tizzy, racing away, and leaving young Wayne behind. If there was ever a time, to save Wayne, it is NOW!!! NOW, Maggie, grab him NOW!!!! Here's where things start to unravel for me as far as character motivation and realistic ability is concerned. Yes, I get that Wayne's appearance is terrifying for her, that she doesn't know what she's walking into as she approaches him, but there is NO WAY Margaret Leigh, Oracle Extraordinaire, Hourglass SLAYER, would just cower, and watch as Wayne hangs his ornament. Nope, sorry. Wayne isn't even all the way a vampire yet, he's in transition, and the FEARLESS girl that I know and love, would have grabbed him, reassured him, while she wrested the ornament from his hands, and SMASHED it!!! Wayne's soul flies back into his body, crying as he clings to his Aunt Mags, Charlie is thwarted, and everybody lives happily ever after. End Scene.

But no, Maggie, in an uncharacteristic move, waits until Wayne has ALREADY hung his ornament, and then approaches him fearfully. I will admit I was a little nervous too..... Wayne, Darling, NO BITING Aunt Maggie!!! Wayne bares his vampire teeth, and raises his vampire claws in an adorable scare, with the cutest little growl ever, laughing cheerfully as he chases Maggie through the trees, clearly thinking it's a game.

Meanwhile, Charlie bristles as he sees the glowing headlights of Vic's motorcycle up ahead, piercing through the descended dark. His annoyance is obvious, but you can almost sense his secret excitement, at having one last chance to kill her.

"Gunning for Mother of the Year?" Charlie scoffs, amused, looking hot as hell behind the Wraith, clenching the steering wheel, his head down, eyes narrowed and full of smouldering, black intent. It's a FANTASTIC face-off, as the Wraith screams down into the open field, Chris pressing HARD on the detonator, and the first bomb goes off in a spray of dirt and billowing smoke. Again here's where I found myself more than a little bit incredulous, wondering WHAT THE HELL IS THE WRAITH MADE OF!?!? I even giggled to myself, remembering what Chris had said. "I don't care if he's in a GOD DAMNED tank!!!" The Wraith remains unscathed, the gleaming black paint, not so much as scratched, as a second bomb, and then a third go off beneath it, to no detriment. Really!? The Wraith is NOT a tank, it's not even armoured, and while yes, it's a supernatural entity, it CANNOT DEFY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS!!! Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so don't want to see you harmed, but you put a blast beneath that undercarriage, it is going to send that car FLYING, flipping it over at the very least!!!

Back in the grove of trees, Wayne, still chasing Maggie, stops cold when Lou calls out to him.

"Dad..... is that you?" THANK GOD, I cry out tearfully, as Wayne recognizes him, and in a very human moment, runs and hugs his father so tight, snuggling his little head to his shoulder, Lou sighing relieved, as he holds his son at last. Happy tears become angry ones, however, and at first I was LIVID with Wayne, horrified as he sinks his tiny little fangs into Lou's shoulder, biting him hard. DON'T BITE YOUR FATHER!!!!! Why, Wayne, WHY!? But the second time I watched this episode, I noticed something soooo very important. Wayne doesn't show any signs of hostility, poses NO threat, UNTIL the first bomb goes off. This is NO coincidence. Charlie, you're too clever for your own good!!! I suspect, that once the transformation is complete, and the kids are connected to Father Christmas, they can sense when he's in danger, and their innate attack instinct takes over!!! Freaking brilliant, and yet also terrifying!!!

Vic curses under her breath, her foot slamming on the gas, helplessly, as the Triumph won't start, her knife failing her, as the Wraith, screams at her like a shot bullet, promising vengeance, and Charlie smirks, sadistic, knowing he's about to end this....... "Say Goodnight, Vic McQueen."

My heart clenches in my chest, barely breathing, the tears flooding my vision, watching through blurry eyes, knowing what he's going to do, before he even does it. Chris McQueen hurtles himself in front of Vic, selflessly sacrificing his life for hers, and the Wraith runs him over, crushing the back of his legs. as he collides with it. I screamed, I sobbed, and shook violently, stunned because my prayers had been answered....... Chris McQueen, has miraculously SURVIVED. He's alive...... he's alive...... I whisper, reassuring myself. While he's far from okay, surely suffering two crushed legs, unable to move, I'm just so happy to see him still breathing, still fighting.

"Perfect timing, Wayne," Charlie snickers, Vic screaming, "NO!" as Wayne hops back into the car. This is it, this is the moment, where it all goes so wrong. Charlie's holding all the cards, he's got Wayne in the car, he's subdued Vic and her father, neither of them can so much as move, and he listens, drinking in their anguished cries. All he had to do was drive away....... It was over. It was SUPPOSED to be over.

"Chris McQueen, a disappointment of a man, just like your father," Charles snarls, and I AM BEGGING him to stop, bawling, pleading frantic, my terrified voice shrill. "BABY NO!!!! BABY STOP!!! DON'T KILL CHRIS, PLEASE GOD, CHARLIE!!!!!" Tapping into a darkness, donning a heartlessness, unbecoming of our gentleman villain, Charlie looks Vic in the eye, as he does it, snapping Chris' neck with lethal force, killing him purely out of spite. The episode ends with her broken, mournful sob, and Chris' slain gaze, his eyes still full of tears, staring blankly at the camera.

My pain is deafening, my sorrow beyond all hope of any coherent expression as NOS4A2 suffers its greatest loss to date. It's an empty gesture, a callous act, uncharacteristic of the man that I love with all my heart, but who has hurt me something profound with this senseless murder. In what kind of CRUEL world, does an innocent man, who sacrifices himself for his daughter, who fought for eight years to be the kind of father she deserved, have to die, while an indecent evil like Bing Partridge gets to live!? Charlie, HOW could you!? This...... There's no honour in this. Charlie kills only as a last resort, and only in defense, he has a strict moral code, and is vehemently against violence without cause. This was unfeeling, unnecessary, and soulless. Yes, he knew Chris was a bad father from before, but surely in witnessing the valiant manner in which he'd flung himself in front of the car, with no thought for his own life, Charlie would have found him redeemed, he would have seen a father who'd do anything to protect his daughter, not so different from himself, and he would have felt SOMETHING!!!

Goodnight, Chris McQueen. You fought the good fight, you changed and made things right, and now at last you can find peace....... My heart is so heavy, I can't hold it, and crying here, I want him to know how wrong he was, thinking nobody would mourn him when he died. A thousand cry out, stricken with grief. Husband, Father, White Knight Redeemed, here lies Chris McQueen, a HERO who didn't die for nothing.........

#nos4a2 #nos4a2 review #chris mcqueen #vic mcqueen #linda mcqueen #wayne mcqueen #charlie manx #maggie leigh #bing partridge

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wooowthanks · 3 years

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I willingly chose to listen to Christian music today, so I guess here’s a post on why it’s a Big Deal ™ to me, as I try to sort through my feelings (lol).

It’s been over a year (or at least 268 days since the last post) since I’ve left the traumatic experience that was Grace Youth Klang, and I think that finally, after all this time, only did I actually realise the extent of the manipulation and stress and pressure we were under.

Were we perfect? Nah. But we worked really hard to try to be at least good. And I think people failed to acknowledge that we tried our best, but maybe, at the minimum, they failed to even acknowledge that we tried.

Leaving church was and (still is) a hard decision I knew I had to make at that time. And it was easy for people, I guess, to say that people always leave as if they didn’t care in the first place, or that people don’t try hard enough to stay. But I think that it takes a certain maturity to make either decision - to stay, go through the shit, and make things better, or to realise that an environment is too detrimental to you, and to step out of your comfort zone to work on yourself.

I left church, and didn’t join another one. I left youth and it was a hard decision, even after already having left it. And I guess here’s what people don’t see - that leaders, no matter the adults or the youth or whatever in between, are humans too. But that leader title brings certain expectations, and that results in either one - people being put on a pedestal, or two - people being thrown into the fire pit to be scrutinised.

And lol no gifts for you if you know which one we fell into.

I left church and I was so angry at God. I was angry that even though I was going through a difficult time of my parents splitting up, people seemed to expect me to be nice and loving to every one else outside. Like who cared Samantha was going through a hard time, right? She’s a shit leader because she didn’t pay attention to the youth. Who cared that so many of us were constantly giving, and getting nothing back every Sunday? We fell so deeply into a pit of serving that we never saw the way out, because if we stopped, if we showed a moment of weakness, if we missed a second, “the blood would be on our hands”.

And I think it only got clear afterwards to many of us, when I (or we? I don’t speak for the others I guess) stopped serving because then FINALLY did we actually have the time to get left alone with our thoughts. Finally, did we not have anything to do with our hands and our time. And when I finally did get that time to reflect, this is what I felt - nothing.

I literally felt nothing. At one point, I genuinely did not remember what emotions felt like, and the only two ways I could react to anything and everything was to cry, or to be angry about it. And if I actually had the courage (and money), I probably should have gone to therapy, because at that point of time, there were many instances where I thought, “hey, I can’t feel anything and that’s worrying. If I hurt myself will it make me feel something”? But I guess lucky me for being the type that let depression (if that was what it was) weigh me down to the point of inactivity (and also I guess it was God keeping me safe in some way because I couldn’t get over how the blade I would want to use was the one to cut my uni assignments, and did I want blood and rust all over my prints? No. And did I want paper in my blood? Prolly not aso.)

And that messed with so many aspects in my life, including my relationships. Because how could I feel love when the one place, the church, that was supposed to guide and accept sinners like me summarised everything we did into scathing comments and negative adjectives as if we were just a Twitter scandal?

#rebellious #DoingItForTitles #OnlinePrayerMeeting (to play with phones, not pray!)

Or my personal favourite for myself, #confrontational and #crybaby because people were personally calling up others to rig the camp chairperson votes, and it was extremely vital for outside people to say I changed and like to cari gaduh, or that I was just stirring up shit for the fun of it (guess the cry baby title was true cos I cried into my corn in a cup at the Subang KTM station when I got those texts lol).

And I blamed God, but it wasn’t God’s fault. It was the church’s, or at least select people in it that made it this way. It was the gaslighting and the manipulation and the stress and the never being enough for the select people in church that made it this way.

But that’s where we failed too. We wanted to be enough, but we would never be enough. Parents would allow their kids to drink, but when it came to us, those same rules didn’t apply (like wah, your gossiping equals to 2 sin points, but any of us drinking?? 100 sin points!!!). People would talk about the importance of healthy relationships etc, but when some of us were starting to date, we were judged instead of being given the foundation for a healthy relationship. People would say we never did enough for the youth, but don’t send their kids to youth anyway.

And of course, when we all started to fall apart, instead of being given the grace and support to overcome and to get better again, we were just bad influences that did jack shit. I guess hearing sermons about people rising up from bad situations is cool and inspiring, but when your own youth leaders go through it it’s time to play god and judge ‘em.

But after this time, I guess I realised that while the church is supposed to be the body of Christ, it’s not God itself. We would never be enough for people, but we would be enough for God. And maybe that’s where I lost sight of the whole point/ purpose of why I was serving/ in youth in the first place. I was there because I loved (love?) God. We were there because we wanted to give back to God, it only so happened that by doing that, we had to serve the people. And sometimes, some people might’ve thought that we were there to serve them.

So, I listened to Christian music today. For the first time in a year, listening to it made me feel somewhat at peace. I didn’t feel like vomiting listening to it, and I didn’t feel anger. I still don’t feel ready to go to any church, but I guess this is a stepping stone that I didn’t think I would ever reach. It’s a step above that small thought in my head telling me that despite me maybe not believing in God anymore, that I still kinda do, and that he’s still there waiting for me to get back, if I ever want to.

Today might be a good day, I think, because maybe I want to. But who knows? Let’s see where this goes.

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 5 years

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Misery Loves Company Part 2:

This is Klaus Baudelaire:

If you think that Klaus Baudelaire and his sister had suffered enough in the first part of their dire adventure, sadly, you are mistaken. The game has only just begun and Klaus has found himself in the middle of the storm that Count Olaf continues to cast over the two Baudelaire orphans.

But this time, Klaus has someone on his side who is older, stronger, braver, and she will do everything in her power to protect him and Sunny. During the middle of their unfortunate circumstances, Klaus will have to learn and adjust to the fact that he is not the eldest Baudelaire orphan...he’s the middle child. He had been gifted with an older sister that he has just recently learned. He tries his best to keep her, the Quagmires and Sunny safe from Count Olaf’s villainy but with no luck.

Klaus feels like with each new dire circumstance taht befalls him that they will never be safe, they will never be free, and the worst part is although at this point in time, his sisters would argue that he’s suffered the most, he believes that he hasn’t and he starts to blame himself with each passing loss that he endures. He is desperately searching for some place where he, his sisters, and his friends can be safe and not have to deal with the unhinged insanity that is Count Olaf. Watch as he starts losing pieces of himself and he starts becoming as ruthless and unhinged as the man he hates the most.

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

"Excuse me," Hal interrupted. "They have specific instructions on how to file anything marked Volatile Film Document," he held up a film that was titled "The Snicket File," this title predictably sent Violet's heart to the ground as she stared at her own last name appearing in front of her face. She noticed that right under the file's title, there was a white sticker with black lettering that declared it a 'Volatile Film Document'. Hal turned to walk away as the children stepped closer to talk to each other privately

"Volatile Film Document?" Klaus repeated looking at Violet.

"VFD," Sunny chanted intrigued.

"...you guys...it was...," Violet said still staring into space

"What?" Klaus repeated as Sunny turned towards Violet.

"Did you guys see its title?" Violet asked unsure of what to think.

"No," Sunny replied.

"It was entitled 'The *Snicket* file," she whispered.

"*What?*" Klaus asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes,"

"That file can help us...we have to see that file," Klaus freaked as Sunny nodded her head in agreement. Klaus looked desperately around the hospital’s Library of Records. *Snicket file...that file was either about Jacques, Violet, or Violet’s father, Lemony...it could have all of our answers.* He thought to himself.

"How?" Violet asked but almost immediately Klaus followed it up with, "Hal?!"

"Yes, Colin?" Hal called back immediately.

"We...we need to see a specific file," Klaus called back fanatically.

"A file? Why do you need to see a *specific* file?" Hal asked confused.

"We need to watch it," Violet called out as they tried to get closer to Hal's current location.

"Watch? Our job is to *file* files, not read or watch em. We just went over that April,"

"Yes, we understand that but...,"Violet began.

“Important,” Sunny chimed in. Both siblings took a second to smile down at Sunny, who was actually starting to speak in one word or two-word sentences. Even throughout their hardships, Sunny must have been taking the time to learn how to speak so she can back up her siblings in arguments with ineffectual adults to where Klaus and Violet didn’t have to translate for her anymore.

"Its a matter of life or death," Klaus explained desperately.

"Life or death, you say?" Hal said appearing in front of the children. None of them could tell which direction he had come from. "Well that does sound important..." he began as he was interrupted by the intercom.

"Attention! Heimlich Hospital! This is Babs, Head of human resources, hospital administration, and the party planning committee, speaking due to budget cuts will be closing in nine minutes. The gift shop will be closing in three minutes. And the Library or Records is closing right this very second,” Babs announced and all three children’s hearts fell to the ground at the same time as the lights around them and Hal turned off. Klaus looked around desperately as Violet wiped a tear from her eyes. Sunny stomped her tiny feet on the ground in response.

“Looks like you can’t see that file afterall,” Hal remarked.

_________________________

The children huddled together several stories above the ground on the unfinished wing of the hospital. Getting there was no fun especially for Klaus, who watched Violet carry Sunny across the wooden beams with absolutely no problem. *Was this girl a superhero?* He asked himself. Klaus was happy to have Violet around, she was kind, she was funny at times, she was very protective of him and Sunny, and she was definitely a force to be feared and left alone when she was mad. She made him feel safer than they truly were. But sometimes with Violet being around, Klaus felt inferior to her. Although, he didn’t agree with all of her plans and some of them did blow up in her face, Violet still had a new plan waiting while he would barely be able to think of any plans at all. *She must get that from her father,* Klaus thought as he frowned. Klaus knew deep down that everything Violet was...was their mother, Beatrice. Maybe some of Violet’s badass personality was Lemony...but Klaus couldn’t lie to himself about it. Violet was everything he wanted to be and more. Klaus *knew* his mother, he didn’t know Lemony very well, although he will give Lemony credit on raising such a powerhouse daughter. Klaus knew that Lemony selflessly protected him and Sunny, costing him his own life. This Violet definitely got from him. (Not saying that Beatrice wouldn’t have done the same if the roles were reversed, but Klaus had to give Lemony credit where credit is due).

As Klaus sat down in one of the more spacey corners of the unfinished wing, he watched Violet set Sunny in her lap and start to play a fun game of Patty Cake with Sunny. Klaus frowned. She was better than him at being an older sibling...she was entirely new at this and boom! She was perfect at it. She didn’t wait six weeks to love and protect Sunny with open arms, it took her six seconds after the children realized how they were related. Klaus pulled out Duncan’s green notebook and Isadora’s black notebook and started trying to concentrate on the partially destroyed notes. But his mind kept focusing on how Violet was so much like his mother and he was nothing like her. No offense to his father, Klaus loved his father and missed him dearly but there was just something about his mother that captivated everyone’s attention. For better of for worse. He thought of how both his own father and Violet’s father, Lemony, was hopelessly in love with his mother. He thought about how he and Sunny looked up to his mother and how Violet, not even knowing her mother at all, was inspired by her entirely. He also thought about Esme’s and Olaf’s obsession of killing them because of their mother’s action. There was something about his mother that made her the force to be feared rather than Bertrand.

Klaus wanted to be that. He wanted to be the family protector. It was his job, wasn’t it? The Man of the House. The only boy. The one who actually made the promise to his parents, not Violet who made the promise to him and Sunny. What would his parents think? He had *Violet* saving him and Sunny. *Violet* was doing all the work. He wasn’t doing shit anymore even before Violet had arrived, Klaus was failing at keeping Sunny safe. Hell, Sunny did a better job keeping him safe. He sighed as he kept turning the pages of the two notebooks. *You’re a complete and utter failure...* his thoughts kept telling him. *You’re simply dead weight holding those two back*...he looked up at Violet and Sunny who were now clapping their hands together as Violet recited some random rhyme that most little girls do in elementary school. Sunny was giggling and looked like she was having the time of her life...with *Violet*. Klaus thought both depressingly and bitterly. He didn’t hate Violet...hell, just the opposite. He looked up to Violet...he hasn’t fully adjusted to having an older sister completely, but some aspects he has. He wanted to be more like Violet because she was so much like Beatrice that it made him jealous and inferior.

He sighed again, loudly this time, which caused Violet and Sunny to turn to him.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“No, it’s okay. I think we should go...We can’t stay here all night. Olaf’s here and he’s looking for us,” Violet explained.

“We can’t just keep wandering the Hinterlands praying that our lives will get better,” Klaus argued. “We are all a part of some mystery and we’ll never be free until we figure out what it is.”

“Quaggies?” Sunny asked pointing at the two notebooks in Klaus’ hands. This was her way of asking, “Did you find anything in Duncan or Isadora’s notes?”

He shook his head, “Just more codes and poems. The damage from the harpoon gun made them hard to decipher. We *really* need to see that file,”

“How can we get it?” Violet asked.

“Break in?” Sunny suggests frowning.

“We can’t! Hal *trusts* us...” Violet began and then sighed, “...and I already studied the locks...they’d be difficult to pick without the proper equipment,” she explained shamefully.

“We could steal his keys,” Klaus suggested. The suggestion escaped the middle orphan’s mouth so fast that all three of their faces fell into a look of shame and regret.

“Would your parents be proud of you, right now?” Violet asked opening her locket looking down at the picture of her mother and the picture that she placed beside it. “My father wouldn’t...” she muttered as she closed the locket before Sunny could lift her head and see.

Sunny shook her head unhappily. “Not at all,” she admitted.

Klaus nodded his head to Sunny’s answer. “Sunny’s right,’ he sighed, “But they’d know we were doing what’s necessary,”

“Or...they’d think that we were criminals like the newspaper said we are,”

“It’s a moral...dilemma,” Klaus said. He was right, it was a moral dilemma but he felt like the kids had no other options other than stealing Hal’s keys and stealing that file. After all the kids have gone through and everything that Olaf had stolen from them: their happiness, their comfort, their safety, their sanity, their home, their ability to trust, their hope and optimism, their childhoods, their sense of belonging, their will to live, their parents... Klaus felt like it was finally time for the kids to dabble in stealing in the hopes of regaining something back.

“Grey,” Sunny replied as the children were interrupted by an ‘important’ announcement from Dr. Mattathias Medical-School.

_______________________________

“We need to hurry, Olaf could still be watching us,” Violet warned as she closed the door behind the children once they had all three entered the Library of Records.

“Hal said he had very specific instructions about where to file those specific files,” Klaus recalled trying to remember the exact words Hal had used.

“And the file is called the Snicket file...” Violet muttered.

“S!” Sunny yelled as she sat comfortably in one of the chairs in one of the corners of the room.

Quickly, Klaus and Violet raced down the S aisle.

“Secretary to sediment,” Violet called out to Klaus.

“Shed to sheepshank,” Klaus called out to Violet.

“Shellac to sherbert,”

“Sludge to smoke,”

“Snack to snifter,” Violet called out as Klaus slid towards her.

“That's the one,” he said happily.

Violet hurriedly opened the filing cabinet and she and her brother ran their fingers through the files. Violet sighed angrily. “No Snicket,” she muttered as she closed the drawer.

“L?” Sunny suggested.

Violet and Klaus looked at one another as they both said, “Lemony,” Violet frowned as Klaus put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“It’s worth a try,” he called to Sunny as the two older orphans raced down several aisles.

“Igloo to illness,” Klaus called out.

“Jam to jazzier,” Violet called out.

“Kiss to kite,”

“Laughter to lettuce,” Violet called out smiling. “It’s this one!”

Klaus hurried to where she stood as his older sister opened the cabinet. Within thirty seconds, Violet kicked the filing cabinet as Klaus slammed the open drawer shut angrily. “Nothing,” he muttered.

“I’m tired! I’m tired of not understanding what’s going on around us!” she yelled. “Missing files...complicated codes...”

“Mysterious guardians...that tunnel that led to my house,” Klaus added.

“Olaf,” Sunny chimed in.

Then Sunny smiled as she shouted three letters that made Violet’s blood boil and a smile appear on Klaus’ face. “V.F.D!”

“Volatile Film Document,” Klaus recalled. “Sunny you’re a genius!”

“I try!” Sunny called back.

“The cult,” Violet hissed.

“Do you think that could be it?” Klaus asked his sister.

“I don’t how we could miss that...the cult is so self-absorbed they plaster their logo everywhere,” she said as she and Klaus raced to the V aisle.

Once the cabinet was open, it took Violet only fifteen seconds to find the file. She and Klaus looked at one another smiling as Violet grabbed the film and handed it to Klaus. Violet raced to where Sunny was seated and carried her over to the projectors.

Once the film started rolling, all three kids gasped once they saw Jacques appearing on the screen.

“Have you heard the news about your brother?” an off-screen VFD agent asked Jacques, who immediately frowned and shook his head.

“He’s either *dead or on the lam*. But either way, he doesn’t mind,” Jacques said sternly in a tone that Violet took as a grieving brother who refused to believe that his brother, who had faked his death for nearly 15 years, was actually dead this time. She gave a quick glance towards Klaus and Sunny thinking that if it had happened to her, she’d be just like him. Refusing to believe the truth.

“Uncle Jacques,” she muttered.

“I never thought we’d see him again,” Klaus muttered.

“Poor man,” Sunny added.

“Are we rolling?”

“Yes, we’re rolling,” the agent replied. “This is the official VFD debriefing of Jacques Snicket. Mr. Snicket, I need you to lay out in excruciating detail if you can what you know about Count Olaf, your brother, this rash of fires, and *anything* else we need to know about the orphans,”

Jacques nodded. “I suppose I should start from the very beginning. But first, before I do, I have an important update...it seems there may have been a survivor of one of the fires,”

All three children felt their faces drop and their hearts plummet.

“Did he say?” Klaus asked in a desperate tone.

“Did you say?” the VFD agent in the film asked.

“Yes. That’s right,” Jacques replied.

“One of our parents could still be alive,” Klaus muttered to Violet and Sunny.

And then without any prompting, Klaus’ mind repeated *one word* that made him feel a tad bit guilty. *Mother!*

#klaus baudelaire #sunny baudelaire #violet baudelaire #violet snicket au #violet snicket #count olaf #esme squalor #asoue #asoue au #misery loves company #part 2 #hostile hospital #april Baudelaire #colin Baudelaire

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