#if i ever actually dress as illinois its over for all of you.

[oonessawness]

As a Google kinnie ur arms r hot and I think we should kiss /hj

Googz don't play w me I'll literally kiss u bro

#holding your hand as we fuckin speak!! #just bros bein dudes. kisses ur cheek #ask.txt #secondary-objective-active #if i ever actually dress as illinois its over for all of you.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x10-- And the violence spread.

So, that’s it for season five. I’m still trying to sort out how I feel about the season as a whole and Wackner’s arc. I’m hopeful that writing this will help me decide.

This episode has a Previously, and it’s rather conventional. I’m guessing it’s here to bookend the season, with conveying information being only a secondary objective.  

Did we see Rivi scream, “You’re done, Wacko, you’re done! Canceled! Canceled!” in the last episode or is that new to this previously? I feel like I absolutely would’ve had things to say about a) Wackner being called “Wacko,” which has been RIGHT THERE this whole time, and b) the use of “Canceled,” which is a thing Rivi would never say but is VERY thematic (you know, cancel culture and also Wackner having a TV show and also this being a TV show that’s wrapping up* Wackner’s arc).

* The way things end this episode, I’d say we’re done with Wackner. The Kings have said they aren’t sure about the plan for season six, so never say never, but I think that if we see Wackner again, it will be as part of a different arc.  

I went back to 5x09 and while we do see the same shots of Rivi screaming, whatever he’s saying in 5x09 is in Spanish. So either he was saying this in Spanish or the dialogue here is totally new.  

I’m a little sad that I knew in advance Robert King had directed this episode, because I want to know how long it would’ve taken me to guess. I’d like to think this first shot, of Diane flopping down on her bed in a very pretty floral print dress, then Kurt flopping down in the opposite direction, would’ve given it away. We usually don’t get shots that are both striking and kinda balanced unless RK’s directing.  

This also has some big season three opener vibes—the scene where Diane turns to Kurt and says, “I’m happy,” thus jinxing the entire season.  

Diane and Kurt are about to go on vacation, which means, of course, that Diane and Kurt are definitely not about to go on vacation. I’ve watched 12 seasons of this show; I know all the tricks!  

If I didn’t get it from the initial staging of the opening shot, the camera panning to Diane and Kurt’s suitcases and then back would’ve been another clue that RK directed. He ALWAYS has the camera in motion.  

I love that Diane’s travel outfit is a dress you could wear to a fancy party and a statement necklace. Of course it is.

And if I needed evidence that RK and MK wrote this episode (which I didn’t; it is a finale so I knew they wrote it), Diane quoting Waiting for Godot is a clue there.  

I really should read Waiting for Godot, shouldn’t I?  

“Wow. Educated and a good lay,” Kurt responds. I know that the political stuff between Diane and Kurt can get more than a little murky, but banter like this reminds me why they stay together and why politics never drive them apart. Also, it’s really nice to see Diane and Kurt have some fun banter that isn’t about politics.  

And Diane making kissing noises and asking Kurt to meet her halfway! This just feels like I’m spying on someone’s private life and I love it. Not in a voyeuristic way, since this is actually a little uncomfortably private, but in a, “ah, yes, these do feel like real people” way. This is the kind of “a little goes a long way” character moment I always want more of, and Kings episodes ALWAYS include stuff like this.

And there it is. The phone rings as Diane and Kurt are about to start out for the airport. Diane thinks the call must be for Kurt, but it’s for her. It’s a very flustered Liz, informing her that STR Laurie’s execs are on their way to the office for a surprise visit.

If the Diane/Kurt scene didn’t tell me that Robert King directed, I almost certainly would’ve gotten it from the sudden cut to Liz, walking through the hallways and doing a million things at once with a ton of background noise. No one loves chaos the way Robert King loves chaos.  

This episode STRONGLY reminds me of the Wife season five finale. It is equally chaotic and also spins a ton of plates. But, mostly, the similarity I see between the two episodes is that they are both extremely fun and captivating to watch because of how much momentum they have, but everything just feels slightly hollow and not exactly focused on the thing you want to see.  

(Shout out to my friend Ryan, who messaged me the 5x22 comparison before I could message it to him!)  

I decided I should rewatch the first few minutes of 5x22. I am now 15 minutes into 5x22 of Wife and 2 minutes into 5x10 of Fight. Oops.  

Apparently, STR Laurie planned a surprise visit because they heard RL was dysfunctional. You don’t say!  

I felt like 5x09 concluded with STR Laurie being won over by Allegra and the RL team, so this is a bit of a surprising place to start the episode. But, since Diane seems surprised too, I’ll allow it.  

Now Liz and Diane have 90 minutes to agree on a financial plan! Kurt’s on the phone with the airline before Diane even hangs up with Liz.  

Diane is determined not to lose out on her vacation and asks Kurt to change the flight to 8:00. “Kurt, we are going on this vacation if it kills me!” is a line I would worry was foreshadowing on basically any other show.

The RL/STRL PowerPoint template is pretty ugly. They want to call 2021 their best year yet, thanks to the deal between Rivi and Plum Meadow Farms we saw last week. Even though we saw champagne and signatures, the deal isn’t done yet because Plum Meadow can back out if Rivi goes to jail.

RK also loves close-ups more than any other director on the show; I do not love close-ups.  

The Plum Meadow deal is such a big deal that for the quarter, they go from $45 million to $5 million without it. They should just not say numbers. I can believe it’s big enough to take them from a modest profit to being behind projections or whatever, but I can’t believe that they have $5 million in other business and $40 million on this one deal.  

It seems that Rivi was arrested. I don’t think it is ever said in this episode why. I assume the arrest relates to his behavior in Wackner’s court, since there were police officers there, and I suppose that Rivi is a big enough deal the police would actually take him to real court, but are we not going to address the weirdness of Rivi being arrested in a fake court where his employees are being tried, then taken to a real court by the same people who just an episode ago were disillusioned with real court? This seems like a plot point.

Carmen on a frantic phone call in the backseat of a car feels very 7x22.  

Who is James that Carmen has in her contacts!? And why does everyone always put Liz in their contacts as “Elizabeth Reddick” when everyone calls her Liz?  

Carmen calls Marissa to go argue in Vinetta’s court since she’s on Rivi duty. Carmen doesn’t take Marissa’s job in Wackner’s court seriously and then notes that this instruction is coming straight from Liz, so Marissa falls in line.  

Wackner’s case of the week is about rural Illinois wanting to form its own state separate from Chicago. There’s a farmer who feels like his tax money is only going to the big city and he wants it to stay in his community.  

They’ve just now added stage lighting to the set of Wackner Rules, dunno why they wouldn’t have done that earlier!

I don’t know what standing you’d have to have to bring a case about wanting to divide the state in two to court, or if this is even something a court would or should decide, but, sure, Wackner and Cord, go for it. There are no rules!  

This map splitting Illinois into two new states that Cord is holding is a dumb prop because Galena, where this farmer is from, is in the same section as Chicago. Do I pause every reference to Chicago on this show and then google information to see if the writers bothered to look it up or pretend they’ve ever set foot in Chicago? You know I do.

“Secession!” the audience screams. Does the audience of Wackner Rules really want to see this?

A Good Fight Short! And it really is short: “Stop this obsession with secession and breaking up the Union. It’s boring and it’s dumb, end of song.” I feel like that’s the thesis statement for this episode, or one of them (that this episode seems to have about ten thesis statements is kind of my problem with this episode, tbh). This episode is very much about danger of things becoming too fractured—the COTW, the copycat courts, the firm drama—and I feel like the writers come around to just saying no, this is enough, we need structure and consistency.

But more on that later. MUCH more on that later.

Marissa is swearing more because “the world has required it.” She notes this to Wackner as she calls him out on the secession case. Cord barges in.

Take a look at the employee of the month poster on the back of the door at 5:39. Then at 5:40, look at what’s in the box just to the right of the center of the screen: it’s an employee of the month poster with Wackner on it! Cute easter egg. (Would Marissa definitely notice this and have questions? Yes. Is this here as a cute easter egg for eagle-eyed fans? Almost certainly.)  

“Insane is just one step away from reality if you get people to believe, and you know what makes people believe? TV.” Cord explains when Marissa asks how they can possibly be litigating this case. That’s thesis statements two and three, folks. The first is that if you get people to believe, then anything is possible, which sounds like a tagline for a Disney movie but is actually super dangerous; the second is that reality TV is a way to persuade people and change opinions.  

So we’ve got: (1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. Let’s see if there are more.

(Yes, these theses do kind of add up to a whole—The rules don’t matter, so if you persuade people, through reality tv, you get factions of people believing their own sets of rules and facts—but what I'm interested in tracking throughout this episode is how well the writers actually bring these theses together.)

(And this is setting aside that key themes in previous episodes, that I think many of us were looking for resolution on, included outlining the flaws with the extant “real” justice system and exploring the role of prison in the justice system. From this episode, I don’t think the writers ever intended to really tackle either of those issues. That’s fine—I'm not sure that TGF has something to say about prison abolition and I don’t want a thought experiment where the writers actually try to fix the legal system—but feels a bit disjointed. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but 5x08 and 5x09 needed to do a better, clearer job of setting up this finale. The key themes of Wackner’s arc were always present, but they needed to slowly narrow the scope so the resolution felt inevitable and clear. Instead, we spent time on things like parking spaces (when we could’ve had a real plot about how Wackner’s court gains legitimacy through violence, incarceration, and playing on people’s frustration with the real systems) and Del’s focus groups (when we could’ve instead done a plot about Wackner gaining fans who wanted to use his methods to do ill). Everything I just mentioned in the parentheticals is in the show! It’s not subtext! We see it all! We see Cord use violence and prisons to enforce Wackner’s rulings; we see the cops turn to Wackner out of frustration; we see that the people drawn to Wackner Rules and to Wackner’s court are increasingly sounding more and more like right-wing populists! I can’t be too hard on this arc because, again, all these ideas are there. I’m not coming up with them on my own!)

I’m just saying: this ending would’ve been a lot clearer and a lot more interesting had the writers focused on what I mentioned above instead of the distractions of the last two episodes.  

Whew, that was a ramble. Hope you’re ready for more rambles.

On a similar note, I’d like to reiterate my problems with how the writers used Marissa after the private prison reveal. I don’t have much more to say than what I wrote last week, but it’s another example of the same problem. Marissa objecting to Wackner’s court because she notices what it’s becoming and how Cord plans to use it for political gain (two Illinoises (??) changes the Senate and the Electoral College...) always was going to be part of the endgame. Marissa only seriously objecting after the fourth or fifth line Wackner crosses feels bizarre.  

Cord does NOT like that there is another court, and wants to protect Wackner’s IP. Wackner, as we saw last episode, does not feel threatened by the other court. In fact, he seems to be excited by it.  

I love Liz questioning Diane’s outfit like it’s unprofessional. It’s a little low-cut and showy, but I don’t think unprofessional is the word I’d use for it.  

Now they have 45 minutes to decide The Future Of The Firm and Diane wants to be considered a name partner. Oh, that debate is still raging?! Every time I think it’s done it comes back, which should probably be a sign to Diane that her options are to leave and start something new, jettison Madeline and the others, or step down. Staying on as name partner and calling it a black firm is just not an option.  

“Diane, there is a split in the firm that...” Liz starts, before asking some associates to leave the room. Ha! The reveal Liz and Diane aren’t alone is a pretty fun touch.

“The Black equity partners don’t want to be in your work group,” Liz informs Diane. “Because they think they’ll be punished by this firm?” Diane asks. “No, that’s paranoia. We don’t punish here,” Liz responds. “Of course you do. My fracking client. My union client. The Black lawyers who work on those cases—they're considered traitors” Diane says. “Because those CEOs are racists,” Liz counters.

Lots going on here, and I’m not sure I understand it all. Why would the equity partners—who are partners—feel like they’re being punished by being in Diane’s work group? (And also what does a “work group” mean and why haven’t they talked about it in the past?) When Diane starts talking about the lawyers who staff her clients, she’s not talking about equity partners; she is talking about associates.

And people are giving associates shit for working on Diane’s clients whom they happen to be staffed on!? That’s sad, though believable.

“So what do we do? Only bring in clients who can pass the racial smell test?” Diane asks. I mean, actually, yes. IF the goal is to be a black firm and to have that designation mean something in moral terms rather than marketing terms, then yes.  

“It’s okay if you’re a drug kingpin like Rivi, but it’s not okay if you want me as lead attorney?” Diane says. Also, yes. Diane makes good points here.  

“Diane, this is not about you,” Liz counters. Um, sure, but it has to be about something, Liz. Unless you’re trying to build a firm you don’t control that makes 88% of its revenue from a drug dealer (40 million out of 45 million this quarter = 88%; I told you they shouldn’t give me numbers) but happens to have black people in charge, you have to grapple with this question. I don’t think anyone who’s fighting for the firm to be a black-led (not owned, bc STRL) business is the type of person who thinks that having a black-led firm that does all the same shit as any other firm is in itself a good thing, so you NEED to address your client list. Madeline is anti-Rivi, anti-Cord, anti-Wolfe-Coleman (the rapist guy), pro-social justice, and pro having a black led firm.  

“I mean, why... why do white people personalize this?” Liz asks. “Oh, now I’m just a white person?” Diane responds. I... don’t know what to do with this! Liz is right that Diane is taking this personally; Diane is right that Liz needs to deal with the rest of the client list. But no one is saying the things that REALLY need to be said: That all their decisions are meaningless in the shadow of STRL, and that deciding to be a black led firm isn’t the end of the discussion if they haven’t decided what types of clients they want to have.  

“What happened, Liz? Last year we were intent on an all-female-run law firm,” Diane starts. Oh, THIS AGAIN! Diane never learns, does she? She never seems to realize that no one she’s approached with this idea is NEARLY as in love with it as she is. She probably still wonders to herself why Alicia—who partnered with her at the end of season seven basically just because it was the easiest, most frictionless thing to do—didn't seem more committed to their firm.  

“Diane, there is history here that we are trying to...” Liz says, but Diane cuts in to note that women (women like Diane Lockhart!) have history too! In fact, she’s spent “35 years fighting gender discrimination to get to this position.” “And we have spent 400 years fighting racial discrimination to try and, you know...” Liz starts, before cutting herself off to get back to the ticking clock.

Sigh. Just talk about the actual thing instead of talking around the thing, guys. Diane is obviously deserving of A name partnership, in the abstract. This is an undeniable fact. And while Diane is definitely making this about herself rather than the big picture, I don’t think Liz trying to trump Diane’s 35 year career with the history of black people is going to win her any arguments? Like, just say what you mean and say it clearly. What Liz, I think, wants to express is that Diane’s individual accomplishments aren’t the issue here and everyone thinks she’s deserving (though Liz suggested Diane was not deserving a few episodes ago, which I didn’t understand then and don’t understand now). The problem is that Diane is trying to fight a battle that’s about something much larger than herself with, “but I'm a good lawyer!”  

And that’s KIND OF what Liz is saying here, if I add all her sentences up and read between the lines, but, again, why not just say it?  

“Alright, now we have 43 minutes to fix race relations, gender relations. STR Laurie’s gonna fire our asses, and you know it,” Liz says. I am curious what that would look like. Wouldn’t that just mean that STRL wouldn’t control them anymore? I’m sure being fired would be bad and all, but wouldn’t it free them from the contract they wanted out of last year?  

“Let’s split the firm down the middle. I hire half the lawyers, you hire the other half,” Diane suggests. What does this mean? Why are you hiring your employees? Huh?

“You hire the white associates, and I hire the black associates?” Liz confirms. This seems like a very bad idea that would make things a lot worse and open them up to lawsuits! I also still do not know what they’re even talking about. And I don’t know why Allegra isn’t a part of this conversation.

“I’m not saying it’s good. I’m just saying it’s what we’re left with. It's what we can agree on,” Diane says. I really wish I understood what “hire” meant in this context because I don’t understand why they have to split anything or why this has to be done now and I don’t understand why this would possibly be a good solution. Can you imagine the backlash when people realize all the white people report to Diane and all the black people to Liz and that people were taken off of the accounts they’ve worked on for years to accomplish this? And this must be something that the employees would know about eventually; otherwise they could just randomly assign half to Liz and half to Diane.  

I’m sad Madeline isn’t in this episode because I feel like we needed to see more of her POV as well as the associate POV. I don’t really understand the divides at play within the firm or what the staff and other partners are asking for, but I suspect it isn’t this.

Hallucination Jesus is back, and at least there’s actually a point to him this time (he shows up when Jay is in Vinetta’s court and reminds Jay that Vinetta will rule based on her religious beliefs). I still dislike the hallucinations.

Jay advises Marissa, who is Jewish, to talk a lot about Jesus in her defense.  

Charmaine Bingwa is really great as Carmen, and obviously she is not fluent in Spanish, but it’s so funny to me that the only time you can hear that she’s Australian is when she’s trying to say Oscar like she’s speaking Spanish.  

"I know you’re hiding something when you speak English,” Rivi says to Carmen. Heh.  

“Community court” is such a nice, unthreatening term for referring to Wackner and his copy cats. Thanks for that, Carmen!

It’s a smart plan to mention Jesus a lot, I guess, but Jay and Marissa both should’ve realized that Vinetta is too smart to tolerate obvious pandering. I’m a little surprised Jay doesn’t get up and argue since Marissa is, obviously, not familiar with the New Testament.  

Marissa wins this round with facts and logic.

Why is the judge who was handling Rivi’s previous charge now in bond court? Make it make sense.

I like that Carmen calls out the ASA for swearing hahaha  

Why... would this Matteo kid just casually mention he was holding a gun, omg.  

In Vinetta’s court, you can be charged with murder and tried because... you had a gun and also there were murders at other times. Coolcoolcool no problems here.

Community courts for civil cases? Sure. That’s basically arbitration. Community courts for criminal cases? Bad, bad, bad idea.  

Vinetta’s reasoning: “Those murders happened on our street, and the police haven’t convicted anyone because they don’t care. We care. This is self-defense. And how is it different from your court?” Aside from the whole imprisoning people in her basement thing, Vinetta’s not wrong. I almost brought this up last week but hesitated because I couldn’t remember the details enough to decide if I wanted to recommend it, but there’s a book I read a few years ago that seems relevant here: Ghettoside by Jill Leovy. Again, been a while so don’t take this as a wholehearted endorsement or anything, but from what I remember, the central issue at the heart of the book (it’s non-fiction) is that a poor black community (I think in LA?) doesn’t trust the police (in part) because the police don’t solve murders, and then with no way of getting justice through the court system, there’s more violence as a stand-in for justice. https://www.vox.com/2016/8/26/12631962/ghettoside-jill-leovy-black-crime

I’m not sure if that’s QUITE what Vinetta is saying but it seems similar, and it’s a decent point (though not a justification for her court). Why should she trust the system to improve her community when it’s ignored her community for years?

I like that the writers chose two very different, very understandable characters for their community courts. It’s easy to see why Wackner and Vinetta feel the need for alternative courts; it’s easy to see why others would trust them. This arc doesn’t really work unless there’s a legitimate frustration with existing systems...  

Marissa calls Wackner’s court a “joke,” which she should understand by now isn’t the case. (Marissa’s smart; she knew it wasn’t a joke the second she saw David Cord get involved.)  

Vinetta accuses Wackner of copying her court, which alarms Marissa. This isn’t addressed again, and I don’t know if it’s true! I could really go either way on this. On the one hand, I absolutely believe that Wackner saw/heard about it, liked it, and did it himself without thinking much of it—and if this is the case, then the ending where Vinetta gets in trouble for violating Wackner’s IP is a lot more of a gut punch. On the other hand, I don’t really feel like the seeds for this were planted. We see Wackner innovate a lot and try new things and he has an explanation for why he does everything—how much of that is Vinetta? And Vinetta clearly watches the show and likes it or she wouldn’t have recognized Marissa, so it’s a little hard for me to just believe her claim when literally all I know about her is she has a court that looks like Wackner’s and she is aware of and feels positively towards Wackner rules. Also, Wackner knows about Vinetta’s court (from Marissa) and sounded excited about it last episode. Sure, he didn’t necessarily know which one it was, exactly, but I assume if he’d copied the idea and then heard about a case involving people from the exact same community where he found the idea... his reaction would be different. So IDK. My reasons for doubting Vinetta’s claim are probably based a little too much in things I’m not meant to spend that much time paying attention to.  

“I fucked up. It’s in the same court, but now it’s a murder case,” Marissa tells Diane. I do like hearing characters admit when they fucked up!  

Diane hears that STRL is delayed, so she heads out to help Matteo. When she goes to change into her pantsuit, she finds that she’s grabbed Kurt’s bag by mistake. “Of course. That makes sense,” she reacts.  

Diane pushes her flight to the next day, also telling Kurt, “And yes, for some reason, I took your suit instead of mine, so fuck it.” I love it when the characters feel like real people.  

I am not sure why Kurt is getting to the office when Diane is leaving or why Kurt is there—to pick Diane up on the way to the airport, maybe?

Carter Schmidt walks into RL at the worst possible time, threating to blow up the Plum Meadow deal. Another 5x10 to Wife 5x22 similarity: he’s in both episodes.  

Liz heads out to help Carmen with Rivi, and then STRL arrives. Oops.  

Credits!

One thing about Wackner’s court that should definitely be a warning sign even though it seems noble: he ignores just about every warning sign, like this rowdy crowd screaming WE LOVE YOU WACKNER or the potential interests at play in a case about secession, because he thinks his fair judgement can overcome these obstacles. If the world worked that way, there’d be no need for his court in the first place.

Is anyone representing the State of Illinois in this trial? If not, then... how is it happening?  

Dr. Goat, some dude who claims to have some hidden historical document about how Illinois is actually two states, is clearly making stuff up and yet Wackner indulges him and Cord. I feel about this the same way as I feel about the Devil’s Advocate: That Wackner would not allow this to go on for more than five seconds before calling bullshit and therefore there is no reason I should have to sit through it.

Why is some guy screaming, “No taxation without representation” like dude you absolutely have representation. But of course, I’m expecting him to be logical, and the point is that he is not.

Dr. Goat’s Latin phrases—shock!-- don’t actually translate into anything like what he said. Even though this information is verifiable by a quick google search, the crowd starts screaming “Liar!!!!” at Marissa. If only I could say this felt unrealistic.

Wackner asks Dr. Goat to bring in the document.  

“You look like you’re heading to the beach,” Vinetta says to Diane, who looks like she’s heading somewhere but definitely not to the beach. Vinetta asks where Diane was headed on vacation. Diane says she’s headed to Lake Como, and unnecessarily clarifies that “It’s in Italy.” She assumes Vinetta doesn’t know that... but Vinetta does.

“So you’ve been there before?” Vinetta probes when Diane says it’s beautiful there. “Just once. We don’t get away often. We thought we’d splurge,” Diane says. Vinetta stares at her and smiles, and Diane hits her head on a basket that’s hanging in Vinetta’s kitchen. If I just write out the dialogue here, it sounds like a perfectly average conversation, but everything about this conversation is so charged: Diane is afraid to look like a wealthy white woman; Vinetta’s pleasantness is pretty clearly also a way of sizing up Diane.  

Vinetta shows Diane pictures of neighborhood children and young adults killed as a consequence of gang violence. You can see she’s not trying to do anything other than help her community, even if her methods are highly questionable.

Diane argues that Matteo should be given over to the police; Vinetta disagrees: “The police haven’t arrested anyone for those murders, any of these. Since the BLM movement, they’ve pulled back from our streets. No one’s coming to help. That’s why I started this court. It’s not a joke to us.” Wait I’m sorry did Vinetta just blame lack of good detective work in black communities on... the BLM movement?!?!?! Is there any foundation to this!? Why can’t it just be that the police weren’t actually doing a good job of policing/finding justice and were being antagonistic towards the community instead of being helpful and no one trusted them?? That explanation is literally right there.

Jay suggests the Jesus strategy, again.  

“It’s women! We could just move on, install men,” STRL guy says. I don’t know if he’s joking, but ugh. Also, what is RL if it has neither Diane nor Liz? A bunch of lawyers who will all promptly quit when they see their bosses get fired and a few opportunists?  

Kurt is watching golf in Diane’s office, and the STRL people love it. Of course Kurt accidentally makes friends with them.  

Court stuff happens. It’s not good for Rivi, and then Liz and Carmen come up with a theory: Plum Meadow is stalling the deal so they can find Rivi’s more stable second and make a deal with them instead.  

Wackner giving Dr. Goat a single point on his stupid little board, for any reason related to his obviously fake totally unverified document, is dangerous. Why would you signal to a crowd that’s clearly not interested in fact that they have a point? That’s basically egging them on.

I know Wackner’s judgment is obviously not 100% sound—need I remind you of the PRIVATE PRISONS?-- but I thought it was more sound than this.  

Wackner shows off his knowledge of paper and proves that Dr. Goat’s document is a fake. Why... did he just give Dr. Goat a point???  

Or is he moving the point from Dr. Goat to Marissa?  

Dr. Goat sounds like a fake name I would call a character in my recaps long past the point of anyone other than myself remembering the joke. (See: Mr. Elk)

“The truth is ugly. The only thing uglier is not pursuing it,” Wackner tells Marissa. How is taking on a case about very obvious falsehoods, funded by someone with a vested interest in the case, that gets people riled up, some noble pursuit of truth?  

STRL and Kurt are now drinking and discussing hunting, while Diane’s arguing for Matteo in Vinetta’s living room. Vinetta is—as was always obvious, sorry Jay—far too smart to fall for this patronizing bullshit. She screams at Diane and plays back a recording (on a baby monitor) of Diane coaching Matteo to lie about his faith.

Soooooo yeah no you can’t do that, that is bad, recording conversations between lawyers and their clients is not good even if it leads to you exposing their schemes...

Then Vinetta places Diane under arrest, which obviously isn’t going to end well for Vinetta.  

Liz and Carmen suggest a post-nup to Rivi to see if Isabel is planning on turning on him.

“I’m going to have to kill her,” Rivi says sadly. I don’t think Rivi will ever kill Isabel because we already did that with Bishop.  

I’m going to assume that Diane chooses to stay in basement prison instead of calling one of the many, MANY, MANY people she could call to get her out/take down Vinetta because she doesn’t want the situation to be publicized or further deteriorate. That said, it’s really not clear why Diane just accepts being sentenced to basement prison with a cell phone.  

Love the STRL man looking at that picture of Diane and HRC. They’ve gotten so much mileage out of that photo.  

Wackner’s court has no rules, but at least since it has no rules, I can’t complain about how its rules make no sense!  

What is this, debate practice?! Ugggghhhhh I can’t deal with this case for much longer.  

Marissa takes a breath, then decides to pursue a strategy she knows could blow everything up.

“Then why care what Judge Wackner decides? Why should you defer to him? Why defer to anyone?” Cord says that’s the point—the people have decided to trust Wackner. “So if you don’t like this court’s decision, you’ll just start a new one?” Marissa asks. “I guess,” Cord concedes.  

“So then why does this matter? This court?” “It matters only insofar as we continue to agree that it matters,” Cord says. “So if you don’t like Judge Wackner’s rulings, you can just ignore them and create a new court?”

Good point, Marissa. Good point. (Does this count as a thesis?)

“I’m guessing that I will like the way the judge decides,” Cord says. Well, that’s basically a threat.

Wackner takes a break and heads to chambers—without Marissa.  

Kurt goes to visit Diane in basement jail. He’s granted a conjugal visit, which means Matteo gets moved up to the bedroom so Diane and Kurt can have some alone time.

Diane is staring at an image of Lake Como in her cell. I thought it was odd she brought a printout of her vacation destination with her, so I LOVED the line where she explains that Vinetta printed it out for her. COLD. (You know who also would’ve done this if they’d for some reason had a basement prison? Bree Van de Kamp. You know what show DID do a basement prison arc I’d rather forget? Desperate Housewives!)  

I love how Diane responds to basement prison by making jokes non-stop.

“I thought the craziness would end with 2020,” Diane says. Nope.

Kurt brought alcohol; Diane brought pot gummies.  

I love that Kurt has never had pot before. I was going to say that I bet Diane’s had a few experiences with recreational drugs when I remembered we had a whole damn season of Diane microdosing.  

Christine and Gary’s acting and their chemistry really bring these basement prison scenes to life. The writing and directing are really sharp, but it’s the actors who make these scenes something special. You can tell Diane and Kurt love each other a lot. You can tell they’re disappointed about their vacation and exhausted by the chaos of the day. You can tell they’re in disbelief over this situation but also find it funny.  

Didn’t Rivi and Isabel have an adult daughter who died of COVID a few episodes ago? Weird she isn’t mentioned in this scene. Maybe from a different marriage/relationship?

Isabel called the SA’s office because she thinks Rivi’s a threat? I think this is a power play.

Heh, Carmen saying, “Shut a black woman up!?” in disbelief in court. Love it.  

Isabel instead flips her story and supports her husband and fights for his release. With no intervention from Plum Meadow, this gets the judge to free Rivi. I don’t really understand what’s happened here or why. I get the resolution, but I don’t get why Isabel called the SA or why this went away so quickly. I still don’t even get why Rivi’s been arrested.

Diane and Kurt put up Christmas lights for ambiance and talk about how they never go on vacation.

“I wanna see the pyramids on this coast!” drunk & high Kurt insists, hilariously. “I mean hemisphere. I like the Aztecs. They, they care about people.” I’m not going to transcribe the rest of the dialogue because it loses its magic when you’re not watching the scene.  

After some fun banter about travel and movies, Diane changes the topic. “I should quit, shouldn’t I? That judge upstairs? She looked at me like I was the most entitled white bitch on the planet. And that’s the way they look at me at work.”

Kurt tries to say that’s not true, but Diane knows it is: “Yes they do. I’m the top Karen. And why do I care? I mean, I... I could find another firm. I could quit. I can’t impose my will on people who don’t want me.”

YES. I see a lot of debate over what the “right” thing to do is here. But I think we are long past “right” and “wrong.” At a certain point, this stops being about absolute moral truths. If Diane doesn’t have the respect of her partners and employees, that is a very real problem for the firm and for Diane. How can she continue to impose her will on a firm that doesn’t want her, all the while claiming to be an ally? (The back half of that sentence is the most important part.) Forget whether or not Diane “should” have to step down. Forget what’s “fair.” If the non-Diane leadership of RL thinks the firm should be a black firm, and the employees of RL think so too, and Diane just doubles down on her white feminism, she’s creating an even bigger problem for herself and ruining her reputation in the process.  

Kurt stands up on the prison cot and warns Diane she might make a decision she’ll regret. This scene is so cute. Why can’t other shows do drug trips where the characters just act silly and have great chemistry? Why does it always have to be some profound meditation on death whenever characters get high?

“I think I like starting over. I like the chutes and ladders of life. I mean, I want the corner office, but then I wanna slip back to the beginning and fight for the corner office. I mean, I think maybe it’s better that I don’t get the top spot,” Diane says. LOVE to hear her admit this. I’m not sure I would’ve come to this conclusion on my own, and it sounds like it’s a bit more about how the writers like to write (you know, the “we love our characters to always be underdogs”) than Diane, but... you know what? I believe it. I fully believe it. Diane LOVES to fight, LOVES to feel like she’s in the right, LOVES power plays and to be making progress. She LOVES winning. The fact that she isn’t just choosing to retire right now, even though she’s past retirement age and has a great reputation, is in itself enough for me to believe that she would find it fun to repeatedly start over.

Plus, it’s a fun new direction for the show to take in season six, because they’ll get the same sense of conflict without the actual conflict. This season’s arc was firm drama and resulted in a firm name change... but it didn’t feel like a knock-off of Hitting the Fan. Diane trying to work her way back into power (I assume by becoming a better actual ally, otherwise doesn’t she just end up in the same exact situation?) should also provide conflict without being repetitive.

Hahahahahaha Kurt immediately reacting to this serious statement by being incredibly silly and horny and then Diane singing “I Touch Myself” to him, man, I love these two. I want to know the story behind this song choice.

Wackner emerges from his chambers. The score is tied. Wackner calls Cord corrupt and notes that they can’t just decide to call Downstate Illinois a new state based on his ruling. Now it’s thesis time!

“I was taken by Mr. Cord’s arguments of individualism. So much of our country has been built on people finding their own way, not being held back by bureaucracy. Yet, if we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos. And that was not the point of this court. Or at least not my point. Judgment for the defense. There will be no Downstate Illinois.”

“If we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos.” is probably the clearest of the many theses of this episode. To recap, we have:

(1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. (4) Institutions only exist when we collectively agree they exist (5) Individualism = chaos.  

But let’s put a pin in this for now and let the chaos of individualism play out.  

The crowd does not like Wackner’s decision, and decides that an appropriate way to express their displeasure is to make anti-Semitic remarks towards Marissa and then start throwing chairs. What nice people.  

As the crowd goes totally 1/6 on Wackner’s court (thanks for pointing this out to me, Ryan—I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection myself!), the door slamming into the desk finally pays off since Marissa and Wackner are able to use it to keep the crowd from reaching them.  

They immediately turn to the police, or they would, if they could get service. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that as soon as things get bad, they want to involve the existing system.  

Wackner Rules is, somehow, still taping in the midst of all the chaos. I don’t know if I think they’d air this, but someone certainly would. (I wonder if any of the cameras we see in these scenes are actually the cameras filming the other angles of the riot.)  

Cord shakes his head and walks out, unharmed.  

“You think they’ll kill us?” “I think they might,” Marissa and Wackner fret.  

“My dad said the whole world would be a better place if everybody realized they were in the minority. ‘No matter where you are,’ he said, ‘Make sure you keep an eye on the exits, and make sure you’re closer to the exit than the Cossacks are to the entrance.’” Marissa says. Love Eli Gold coming through with thesis number 6 (and maybe thesis number 7).  

“Your dad sounds a little paranoid,” Wackner says, correctly. Remember how I mentioned I accidentally wound up watching 5x22? Eli calls Alicia and responds to her hello with, “DISASTER!!!!” I miss him.

“He was, but he wasn’t wrong. He said, ‘Stay away from parades. They’re cute until they’re not. And don’t trust any pope who was Hitler Youth.” “What’s that law called?” “Godwin’s Law. My dad said anybody who argued for Godwin’s Law has never been near an actual crowd. Crowds love you, they hug you. Then they grab a gun and try to kill you.”

“Why? Why do they do that?” “I don’t know. Hate is fun. It’s clear-cut.”  

I really like all of this. It is a little preachy, but it isn’t wrong and it’s self-aware. And, more importantly, it’s in character. I absolutely believe that Marissa would tell lots of stories about Eli in a moment of extreme stress. It’s nostalgic, probably comforting, and it also helps her feel like she’s on the right side with the right arguments. So, even backed into a corner, she’s still a winner: she has theory on her side.  

Wackner speaks a foreign language (I do not know what language but I wish I did) and says, “A guy could get killed doing this,” which makes him and Marissa laugh as things crash around them.

Idk about you all, but I couldn’t really get myself to actually worry about their safety during this scene. Maybe Wackner’s, just a little, but I got the sense we were supposed to focus more on the chaos and destruction and monologuing than on the actual danger. That’s not to say the stakes didn’t feel high, but rather to say that this didn’t feel like an action sequence where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. The point was to watch the court fall and think about why it fell, not to worry about if Marissa would live.  

Diane and Kurt are woken up by sirens and loud noises. The cops arrive and are shocked to find professionally dressed white people in a basement cell. They let Diane and Kurt out with compassion, but scream, “don’t you fucking move” to the people on the floor.

“It’s okay, they didn’t do anything,” Diane says. This is, as I theorized earlier, probably why Diane just sits there until her punishment blows over instead of escalating things.  

If the cops weren’t there to free Diane, why were they there? Why, because they like David Cord and David Cord has gotten Chicago PD officers to protect Wackner’s IP.  

If I had to say one thing in favor of Vinetta being the originator of the community court idea, it would be that it’s SUCH a gut punch to watch Diane and Kurt walk away from their bizarre little adventure as Vinetta gets arrested in the background, and it hits ten times as hard if Vinetta’s only being charged because some white guy is claiming IP that’s actually hers.

(I think Vinetta is probably, at this point, actually being arrested for imprisoning people illegally, but, still.)

“Pfft. Some judge,” one of the cops who adores Wackner says of Vinetta. Racist much?  

Marissa and Wackner emerge from the backroom. “I think I better get back to work,” she says, meaning her RL job. "Me too,” Wackner says, grabbing a Copy Coop apron. He’s an employee of ten years.  

I don’t think this lands as well as it’s meant to. I think the point is supposed to be that Wackner’s just some guy—not a billionaire, not an academic, not a judge, not a lawyer—with an idea. But it’s a little too neat. And it doesn’t explain how Wackner financed his court initially, nor does it explain why he has basically unlimited access to Copy Coop space and resources. I’d buy it if he were the OWNER of Copy Coop, but I have so many questions about him being an employee.  

Diane tells Liz she’s actually going on vacation this time, and they laugh about how Kurt bonded with STRL.

“I want you and Allegra to be name partners. I’ll be an equity partner,” Diane says. “Why?” Liz asks. “Five years ago, when I hit rock bottom, this firm took me in. So I don’t like the idea of splitting this firm in two. And I can’t lead if no one will follow.” “And your clients?” “We’ll manage them together.” YES! I love this. I don’t love it because I necessarily think it had to go this way, but because it’s so refreshing to see Diane say that she actually is willing to take a step back because she cares about the firm and the people there more than she cares about being a name partner. This isn’t something we usually see. When we hear “this firm took x in” it’s usually being said incredulously against someone who’s decided to leave and steal clients (cough, Hitting the Fan, cough).  

It’s been pretty clear for most of this arc that Diane and Liz like working together and they like their firm, but that no one (other than Diane, I guess) is willing to let RL lose its status as a black firm, and that the employees and equity partners weren’t going to be satisfied until Diane stepped down. Diane really had three options: Stay and piss everyone off and claim the whole firm for herself, quit and go somewhere else and totally abandon the good working dynamic she had, or step down and put her money where her mouth is.  

Also yeah the clients were never actually going to be an issue! They were only an issue because Diane intentionally went about informing them she was stepping down in a way she knew would make them worry!  

“I think I need to prove myself,” Diane says. I’m not sure that’s the key issue or that she can ever prove herself fully, but we’ll worry about that next year.

“I missed you,” Liz says. “I’m here,” Diane replies. “I know. Thank you,” Liz says.  

Diane decides she’s going to move downstairs so Allegra can have her office. I think there’s another office on this floor, since she, Adrian and Liz all had offices. This feels a little bit like Diane’s in love with the idea of making things difficult for herself and maybe hasn’t fully grasped the point, but, you know, I’ll take it.  

Diane tells Kurt her decision and he asks if it was the right thing to do. She says she doesn’t know—but she says it with a smile. Kurt notes he’s going hunting next month with the STRL folks and will put in a good word for her. Ah, yes, because STRL still controls all of this and all of this is moot! Thanks for the reminder Kurt! Diane says she wants in on the hunting trip. Of course.  

And the elevator doors close. Remember how closing elevator doors was a motif earlier this season??? It’s back!

Then we get a little coda with Wackner Rules airing a new episode that’s just violence and destruction. This sequence seems to straddle the line between being there for thematic reasons for the viewers and there to show what happened in the show’s universe, but I think it’s main purpose is theme, so I will not go on a full rant questioning why Del would want to air this.

A white blonde lady in an apron watches the destruction of Wackner Rules. She looks concerned. “That was violet,” she says with dismay. And then we see she’s holding a guy in a jail cell in her kitchen.  

And then we see other courts, as America the Beautiful plays. One’s in a garage debating kicking someone out of the neighborhood; another is across the street about the same case. There’s one in Oregon about secession. There’s one among Tiki Torch Nazis deciding only white people can own property. There’s (inexplicably) one about pronouns. There’s one with arm wrestling, one that happens while sky diving, and a bunch of others. It’s pretty ridiculous, and not necessarily in a good way. It feels at once like the natural extension of the Wackner Rules show and like an over the top parody you’d see on another show. Tiki Torch Nazis screaming “only white people can own property!” is the opposite of subtle writing. Tonally, this sequence feels more like the zany humor of Desperate Housewives or the insanity of BrainDead than anything TGF has done before (and TGF’s been plenty surreal), and it doesn’t quite work for me. It feels like it is trying to prove a point in the corniest, most on the nose way possible. It almost feels like it’s parodying its own plotlines.  

On my first watch, this ending for Wackner left me stumped. I knew the writers were making an argument against individualism (Wackner’s speech + the repeated references to The Apprentice) and cults of personality. But I couldn’t figure out a real life analogue to Wackner’s court, and since this ending was so obviously trying to be About Something, that bugged me. Sure, that last sequence could be an argument against people making community courts, but WERE people making community courts? I didn’t see the urgency.

And then I talked to @mimeparadox. And as soon as he said that it was about factions and people playing by their own sets of rules beyond the justice system, it clicked. I’d been looking for Wackner’s plot to be a commentary on the legal system. It is much broader than that. It’s a commentary on the weakening of democratic systems (the Big Lie, etc.), more broadly, and Wackner and his common-sense approach are just a way to get liberal viewers to go along for the ride.  

Now that I understand the point, or what I think is the point, I like this conclusion. Circumventing the system leads to chaos; that’s why we have institutions and bureaucracy, and I think the show is arguing that these institutions should still be respected despite their flaws. The many theses of this episode all come together to make this point (though the reality TV stuff is a little more tenuous and I'm a little shocked we got through all of this without any commentary on social media?): If we stop having a shared belief in institutions and instead follow individual leaders (whom we may learn about through reality TV), the rules will stop mattering and we’ll end up with a fractured country and widespread violence.  

But, and maybe this is just about me being upset I missed both the obvious 1/6 parallels AND the point of the arc the first time through this episode (my defensive side feels the need to also note I first watched this episode at like 5 am when I was barely awake), I don’t know that I actually think this episode does a great job of driving its point home. There are SO many moving pieces to the Wackner plot and SO many references. There are so many threads we never return to from earlier in the season, and there’s so much that strains credulity (like Wackner taking Dr. Goat seriously for more than a split second). It’s pretty clear what the themes are—even though I’m saying I missed the point my first time through, I've hit on all these themes separately in past recaps and posts—but, I dunno, something about this episode just feels scattered. Maybe it’s all the moving pieces, maybe it’s all the moments where it sounds like the characters are voicing related ideas that don’t quite snap together to form one coherent picture, or maybe it’s that Wackner’s plot gets two endings (the actual ending + the coda) and it’s up to the viewer to put together how they relate.

I really don’t know. At the end of the day, I think there was a little too much going on with Wackner and that the writers needed to use the episodes between the private prison reveal and the finale to narrow—not broaden—the scope of what they were trying to do with Wackner. But I also think that what they were doing with Wackner was really, really smart and original. I don’t think I can overstate how impressed I am that the writers took an idea that sounded, frankly, awful when I first heard about it and turned it into something captivating and insightful that I was happy to spend nine weeks watching.  

Overall, a few bad episodes aside, I thought season five was the strongest season of TGF yet. I haven’t seen this show be so focused in... well, maybe ever. Having two overarching plots that received consistent development and felt like they were happening in the same universe at the same time REALLY helps make season five feel like a coherent whole, and I can’t wait to rewatch it.  

#tgf thoughts #the good fight

[jawritter]

Twelve Days Of Christmas

Chapter 3

Summary: Dean never realized that Y/N missed Christmas until he turned off an annoying Christmas song on the radio on the way home from a hunt, now he will make it his personal mission to give her the Christmas he misses so much, and if he plays his cards right, maybe he will give her what he has wanted to give her for so many years, himself.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo​​

Square Field: Sleigh Ride

Word Count: 1760

Warnings: Hint of anxiety issues, fluff, fluff, and more tooth rotting fluff.

A/N: This is to help me catch up on my SPN Christmas Bingo card lol Chapter 4 will post tomorrow! I knew chapter will post every day until Christmas! I know I’m insane lol. This is a real time fic collection and all mistakes will be my own! Please do not copy my work! Hope you all enjoy these!!

**SERIES MASTERLIST**  **MASTERLIST**  **BECOME A PATREON**

The last thing you remember from the night before was falling asleep wrapped up in Dean’s arms in the Dean cave. Normally you weren’t one to fall asleep during movie night, but it also wasn’t normal for Dean to be that cuddly either, and you were apparently a lot more worn down from the hunt than you thought you were, not to mention your little self inflicted melt down over Christmas. Your anxiety tended to hit at the world's worst time and take a whole lot out of you when it did, yesterday was no exception. 

When you woke up this morning you were tucked safely in your bed, and you knew you didn’t wake up to get there on your own, meaning Dean must have carried you there and tucked you in after you had fallen asleep. That thought alone made you smile. Dean cared about you enough to carry you in there, and tuck you into your bed after you had fallen asleep on him. No man had ever done that for you before, and you swear your heart grew three sizes in your chest. 

You had always harbored feelings for Dean, but never allowed yourself to think that they could possibly be reciprocated by the famous Winchester. He was a warrior, a hero, and you were just lucky he allowed you into his little band of misfits to hunt with them, and gave you home when you met him years ago hunting a nest of Vampires in Illinois.

You climb out of bed, not bothering to change out of your pajamas Dean had bought for you the night before, and made your way into the kitchen in search of coffee. You were surprised to find Dean standing next to the coffee pot with a cup in hand, fully dressed, showered, and ready for the day; normally Dean was a bit of a late sleeper. 

“Morning,” he said brightly, as if he’d been up waiting for hours, quickly grabbing a mug for you and filling it with coffee before you could even cross the floor. 

“Morning,” you tell him with a smile as you take the steaming mug from him, and make your way over to the table to sit down. “What’s got you up so early?” you asked him, and he chuckles as he sits to work on your breakfast. 

“Early? Sweetheart it’s almost noon,” he says without even turning around to face you, cracking an egg over the pan in front of him. “I was starting to think you were going to skip today and just stay in bed. I was a little hurt that I didn’t get an invitation,” he played as he pulled bacon from the pack and added it to the pan in front of him with the eggs. 

You blush at his antics and hide behind your coffee cup as Sam comes striding into the room, a book in hand, and a cup of to refill with coffee in another. He didn’t so much as give the two of you a second glance as he refilled his coffee up and started to track back out to the library with his nose firmly implanted in a book. Dean watched his brother as he gave the bacon on final flip and plated up your food before rolling his eyes and turning to you, shaking his head as he delivered your breakfast to you. 

“Boy’s lucky he found Eileen, if not I don’t think he’d ever get laid,” he grumbles as he takes a seat across from you and you stifle the laugh that threatens to fall from your lips with a mouth full of bacon. 

“Leave him be,” you scold, and Dean’s eyes sparkle a little with mischief when he playfully runs his foot across your under the table. Was he really playing footsie with you? 

You clear your throat, and decide to just play along without saying anything and you swear you saw a victory smirk cross his gorgeous face. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked him, expecting some smart ass answer like porn, or some slasher marathon he’d planned since there was no case, and so much snow had fallen the night before it wasn’t like anyone wanted to get out in it anyway to actually work.

“You and I are gonna go downtown, so hurry up and eat your breakfast so you can get dressed,” he said excitedly, and you give him a confused look. 

“Downtown? It was a snow storm last night? Can we even get downtown?” you asked him in confusion, but he seemed thoroughly unfazed. 

“It stopped snowing hours ago, and the snow plows have already came through and cleared the roads, the sun's out, and it’s really not that bad out there, so hurry up Y/N/N!”

He looked so much like an over excited child that you couldn’t say no to that face even if you wanted too. You quickly finish your meal and dress in your room before meeting Dean in the garage where he’d gone to warm up Baby for you so that you wouldn’t be cold when you got into the car. 

You don’t know where this new, thoughtfully sweet, Dean came from but you weren’t complaining. Dean had never wanted to spend this much time with you before, and you were going to enjoy every second of it. 

“What are we doing downtown Dean?” you asked him as the car moved ever closer to Dean’s destination, his fingers were drumming alone to the classic rock song that was filtering through the speakers, and he was humming in a way you had only heard him do about a handful of times. He looked, happy? It was rare that Dean ever looked happy. It was a nice chance. 

“You're about to find out,” he said with a smirk, pointing ahead of him, at the side road where a fully decked out horse driven sleigh was waiting, children flocking around the animal as the handler let them each have a turn petting it’s short main. Your mouth fell open in utter shock and disbelief at the sight before you, and you couldn’t deny that the little girl in you was squealing with delight at the sight before you as Dean parks Baby safely on the side of the street. 

“Dean! Are you serious?!” 

You were all but bouncing up and down in the seat and Dean was chuckling at your excitement as his bright green eyes watched you, an emotion filling them you couldn’t understand in that moment. 

“Serious as a heart attack baby girl, I’ve already got us booked for a ride, in fact they're waiting on us now,” he said, getting out of the car and making his way around to pull you from the passenger side. 

You were still in so much shock that you all you could do was smile like an idiot as he laced his fingers with yours, and made his way over to the sleigh, shopping to let you pet the horse for a moment before helping you into it, following close behind you and draping the blanket they provided over your lap so that you wouldn’t get cold. 

The young man that was standing next to the horse climbed up behind the reins and took off slowly, making his way through a heavily decorated part of town, and through the little orchard that set just outside the park, snow making them limbs of the trees heavy and everything bright like winter wonderland as your eyes traveled around the scene before you. It looked like something out of a cheesy Hallmark movie, but you wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. Dean's eyes barley left your face, watching you as you looked around with a childlike amusement. 

“Dean, how did you even find out they were doing this?” you asked him as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close to him to help keep you warm. Your heart fluttered around in your chest at the simple little act, and damn he smelt like Heaven.

“I saw it on the news, and I remember you saying how much you loved horses, so I figured it was something you would like to do,” he said simply with a shrug, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, and those eye crinkles you loved so much coming out to play. “I thought this would be the perfect day 11.” 

“I love it De, thank you for thinking of me,” you tell him, letting your head rest against his shoulder as the landscape passed along by you like a beautiful, moving portrait. 

“I always think of you Y/N,” he said, and you blushed deeply at his little revelation, looking up into his forest green eyes as he stared down into your own. You watched as his eyes traveled from your lips to your eyes again, and for just a second you thought he was going to kiss you. 

Just before the electric pull between the two of you became irresistible he pulled back a little, and you could have kicked yourself for thinking this was anything but plutonic. You didn’t have a chance to sulk about it before his free hand reached over and laced with yours, quickly making the moment all too intimate again, his lips kissing the top of your forehead and making your heart leap in your chest. 

“You just wait to see what I have planned for day ten,” he chuckled as the sleigh started to make its way back to the starting point, and you started to question him, but something in his eyes just said he wanted to surprise you, so you wouldn’t spoil this for him either. 

“You know you don’t have to do this Dean,” you tell him earnestly, and he smiles warmly down at you as the ride comes to an end, and he helps you down, leading you towards the little hot chocolate stand that was set up close by. 

“I want too, Y/N/N, you deserve this, and I’m going to make this a Christmas you will never forget, trust me.” 

Your mind and heart fluttered with possibilities and excitement that you hadn’t felt in years, but more importantly you were pretty sure you were falling in love with this green eyed God of a man, and hoped that it didn’t put a damper on the holiday fun he had planned for the two of you.

Forever Tags: 

@deandreamernp​

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@miraclesoflove​

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Twelve Days Of Christmas Tag List: 

@440mxs-wife​

#Dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spnchristmasbingo #dean winchester x you #x reader inserts #dean winchester fanfciton #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester series #dean x reader #dean x you #dean series #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn series #jensen ackles

[corrupted-shadows]

Repairing Bonds

Evalyn lets out a yawn as she glanced up from the spot she sat

Pandora was seemingly sound asleep laying on the ground as both Serenity and Trinity laid against her asleep as well

“Never saw those two so drained”

Rain chuckled softly as they closed up their faint white wings against their back

Basil glanced around quietly at all the dimmed lights

“Everyone is asleep”

Basil mumbled as he picked up Serenity and Trinity allowing the two to turn back into their fairy forms, he moved them up to a tree branch where their other siblings laid

Rain took a moment before glancing over at their sister and smiled softly

“I’m so happy to know you’re here and happy”

Rain smiled and Evalyn chuckled rubbing her neck

“Here, yeah, happy? That’s...probably in the making”

Evalyn sighed before standing facing her sibling observing them

“You know fairy fits you well”

Evalyn chuckled glancing at their outfit, Rain smiled moving their hand down to the end of their dress

“Do you think so? It’s been so long since...I ever thought about my actual human life I kind of forgot about it”

Rain chuckled before looking at Evalyn

“Where have you been anyway? I know you crossed the bridge but what’s over there?”

Rain asked curiously and Basil looked at the two quietly

“You seriously haven’t been over there?”

Evalyn tilted her head

“Well it’s forbidden to go over the bridge, no one in at least my history of being here has ever crossed that bridge”

Rain said and Evalyn thought for a moment

“Well there’s cities...farm life and everything that is remotely...like Earth, I guess, well besides some things”

“Just like Earth huh?”

Rain chuckled and glanced around the forest they stood in

“Here it’s completely different”

“What do you guys call this place anyway? I mean we call it like the floating islands cause ever since...well I don’t know the story that well I uh...Pandora does”

Evalyn said glancing down at the sleeping soldier, Pandora’s bow was rested against her back as she wore a belt full of weapons and arrows

“Well you two should go home”

Basil started as he fixed his crown

“Go back, don’t come back I don’t care”

Basil mumbled and Rain glanced back at him

“Honey she’s my family you can’t just say that, I’m sorry Evalyn he’s...a bit old school with the rules”

Rain sighed fixing their hair as their blue eyes shined in the double moonlight, Evalyn chuckled

“It’s okay...um...Pandora is just the same way”

Evalyn said pulling Pandora up and on her shoulder, she lets out a shaky breath

“Okay maybe not this way”

Evalyn whispered to herself and moved to carry Pandora in more of a bridal way avoiding the knives that rested against Pandora’s waist

“Do visit again sister we have so much too-”

Rain started before they heard a few voices come from the bridge

“Who is it now?”

Basil mumbled and started to walk

Evalyn held Pandora walking over, spotting Dark and Wilford they noticed them

“There she is”

Dark grumbled walking across the bridge

“She seems to be a tired lassy isn’t she?”

Wilford chuckled taking Pandora from Evalyn’s hands

“What are you two doing over here?”

Dark said glancing at Evalyn holding his cane

“S-she just took me to find my sibling that’s all”

Evalyn said gesturing over to Rain who gave a smile

“Hello!”

Rain smiled giving a small bow as the crown was still clear as day

“Oh it’s a royal, didn’t expect to see that here”

Wilford chuckled

“Wilford we know nothing about this area, I don’t think-”

“Ah, it's nothing now! Let’s get going! You did promise all the others a trip to the movies”

Wilford smiled and casually started walking back

Dark sighed rubbing his face before looking at Basil and Rain

“Sorry he’s uh...he can’t focus on one thing for too long”

Dark said and gave a nod before starting to leave

“Those two are strange”

Basil said observing them

“I never understood Dark and Wilford honestly, their history is unknown to our part so”

Evalyn shrugged before glancing at Rain offering a little hug

Rain smiled and stepped up hugging their sibling tight

Relaxing into their hug Evalyn smiled

“I’m so happy you’re here with me, I don’t...know why any of us are here in this void but I’m glad”

Evalyn chuckled and Rain smiled letting go

“Yeah...go ahead home, we all need some rest”

Rain said softly

“Hey, Evalyn are you coming?!”

A voice yelled out from the bridge and she glanced over at Faith who was peeking her head through the invisible wall

“Oh hello! I love your dress!”

Faith smiled looking at Rain

“Oh uh thank you”

Rain chuckled at the compliment glancing down at their dress

“Well guess I should go huh, bye…”

Evalyn said and started to walk away

“Bye, love you”

Rain said and that caused Evalyn to stop, she lets out a shaky breath

“I love you too”

Evalyn smiled a bit before walking off with Faith

Back safe in the void Evalyn glanced at the egos

“Man there surely is a lot of you”

Evalyn said

“Mhm”

Pandora grumbled still waking up

“Ready to go?”

Wilford smiled

“Yeah about time!”

Bing said in excitement

“I still don’t see the purpose of going to the movies if we can just watch this at home”

Google mumbled

“It’s some family bonding time! Cmon what’s better spending time with us?”

Bim grinned as he held Silver’s hand who kept trying to wander off

“I can think of a few”

Google mumbled

Evalyn stood alone watching the group start to walk away, holding her arm she glanced down and started to walk home alone

“Aren’t you coming with us? I’ll pay for your ticket”

Faith said glancing at Evalyn who walked by

“Me? Why would you want me to come?”

“Come on! I know...you and my sister never got along well but shouldn’t we all have a chance to try and bond?”

Faith said and Evalyn blinked

“Yeah...yeah that sounds nice”

Evalyn smiled softly

Walking with them she glanced over at Luca, Alex, and Lumi

“Have any of you ever slid on ice before?”

Lumi mumbled to the two

“No? I don’t think Dark would want you-”

Luca said before letting out a yelp, Lumi giggled as she ran along causing ice to form underneath the whole group

Sliding down the streets Lumi giggled making sure to watch for any people walking by

“Lumi what did I say about doing this?!”

Dark said trying to keep his balance holding onto Wilford’s arm who seem to be sliding just fine

“You’re all slow walkers when its constant arguments”

Lumi chuckled, in front of the movies the entire ice trail disappeared from sight

“What the fuck just happened?”

Evalyn said standing and rubbing her back

“Ugh I hit so many rocks on the way here”

Illinois groaned rubbing his back

“But we’re on the streets’ how did you get hit by rocks?”

Alex asked confused and Illinois shrugged

“Have no idea! They just randomly appear”

Illinois said

“If I had a dime for every time I was chased by a boulder or something...I would have...a few...which is strange to think about now”

Illinois said confused thinking and Alex chuckled

Watching the group from the back Evalyn lets out a hesitant breath

“Hey”

Juliette suddenly said and Evalyn glanced at her

“We’re a riled up bunch but it’s alright...you’ll fit right in”

Juliette gave a small smile and Evalyn smiled back

“Thank you”

Evalyn said softly

The two went inside with the rest of the group

Tags:

@timeless-aces @springybreadpringles @why-killed-markiplier @jack-attack @worldtravelerbuff

#jacksepticeye #markiplier #corrupted shadows

[wheres-everyone-going-bingo]

Hey demons, its me, ya boy! I request of you Damian trying desperately to seduce reader, trying not to be scary and intimidate him only to realize after losing his cool with one of the other egos in front of reader that reader is big sub hours.

Intimidate

Pairing: Damie x Male Reader

Warnings: smut, swearing

——————

I had never thought that I’d feel things again. Then I met Y/N, when I had met him my whole world had slowed down and I knew that he was the one. He didn’t treat me like a monster like most did, he didn’t treat me like the villain I was. I’ll admit that I’m not the nicest ego, most of the time coming off cold, but I was trying.

—————

I knocked on the door of Markiplier Manor, waiting patiently for someone to let me in. I heard the door unlock and it swung open to reveal Eric’s familiar face.

“Hey Eric, could I come in please?” I asked, gesturing to the doorway

“U-uh sure Y-Y/N” he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Oh! You mean now” He anxiously laughed, moving away from the door to let me in

“Do you know where Damien is?” I questioned swinging back and forth on my heels

“He’s uh, in his stu-study” Eric stuttered, pointing towards the corridor

“Thanks Eric, I appreciate it” I smiled at him, walking down the all too familiar hall of rooms.

I eventually found myself at the entrance of Damien’s office again. I tapped my knuckles against the wood, hearing a chair scrape against the floor. The door was soon opened, revealing a smiling Damien

“Ah Y/N I thought it was you, your knock is very distinct” He welcomed, standing aside to let me into the monochrome office. He took my hand and gave it a kiss.

I made my way over to the desk, hoisting myself up and sitting on it, swinging my legs.

“So how are things going?” I enquired, my eyes scanning over his various piles of paperwork

“The usual, Wilford’s killed a few people again, Magnum hasn’t found his treasure, Illinois is still an arrogant idiot and you are as gorgeous as ever” He explained, taking a seat in his chair.

“I see you’ve got a bunch of paperwork, as usual” I said blushing, motioning to the stacks of paper

“Yes, I never catch a break, not with the people in this place. However your presence is refreshing as always” he sighed, I patted him on the shoulder, offering him my sympathy.

I jumped towards Damien and let out a yelp as a gunshot rang out from another room. I looked at Damien, who just pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Stay here, Wil always seems to shoot things he doesn’t mean to” Damien stood up and walked out of his office, closing the door behind him. I knew that I should do as Damien told me but my curiosity got the best of me and I left the room, following the sounds of gunshots.

I peaked around the corner, seeing Wilford pointing his gun at a very angry looking Yancy.

“What the hell is going on?” Damien said, keeping his composure

“That pink punk said that my’s singin was no good” Yancy spoke, clenching his fists

“Yes I did say that because you were a bit pitchy. That was no reason to assault me” Wilford over pronounced every syllable, waving his gun about

“Wil, don’t insult other egos” Damien, held his hands behind his back, fighting to keep his frustration at bay.

“Well excuuussseee me for having an opinion” Wilford pretended to be offended, swinging his gun around carelessly

“Wil, you need to stop waving your gun around” Damien warned, as a gunshot echoed throughout the room. I let out a surprised noise that was somewhere between a shout and a squeak. Damien’s eyes went wide, presuming the worst. I patted myself over making sure that I had no extra holes.

“I’m fine, it hit the wall next to me” I sighed in relief, thinking this might be my last day on earth.

Damien’s aura immediately grew in intensity, an ear splitting noise rang throughout the room. His eyes seemed to darken until his sclera was completely black. He stalked towards Wilford whose eyes had grown wide once he realised what he had done. Damien’s teeth were gritted as he towered over Wilford.

“Wilford, your negligence has gone far enough. You endangered Y/N which is something I will not allow” He threatened as the whole room went dark.

I know that I should have been intimidated by the anger and power of Damien but I felt my pants get tight as I watched him get furious at Wilford. My fingers trailed down to my crotch as Damien’s anger grew. I had never seen him so enraged before and I’ll be honest, it was fucking hot. I tried to subtly palm myself through my pants as I watched.

“Do you understand Wilford?” Damien asked, Wilford noded “Do you understand?”

“Yes I do Damien” Wilford spoke, putting his gun away, and apologising profusely. Damien turned away from Wilford, storming over to me.

“I told you to stay in the office” He scolded, brushing his fingers over my skin to make sure that I was unscathed.

“Sorry, I was curious” I muttered, inconspicuously adjusting my pants.

“Curiosity killed the cat”

“Yeah but satisfaction brought it back” I told him, as he led me back to the office.

We entered the room, as Damien took a seat once more.

“I’m sorry that you had to see that” He apologised, fiddling with his paperwork

“I didn’t mind” I avoided eye contact “I really enjoyed it actually” I muttered under my breath, suddenly taking interest in the carpet on the floor. There was no response as I heard Damien get up from his chair. I felt a hand on my chin as he lifted my head up to meet his eyes. He gave me a fanged smirk, pressing his mouth to my ear

“I tried to ignore it but I can smell your arousal” he purred, his breath tickling my ear. I let out a squeak as his fingers caressed my inner thigh, drawing circles.

“Fuck, Damien” I breathed out, grabbing his wrist to move his hand to touch my clothed erection. He moved his mouth onto my neck, dragging his teeth against my skin. I let out a whine as he found my sweet spot, Damien smiled against my skin, biting and sucking it. “Damien, please don’t tease me” I moaned, grabbing at his dress shirt.

“You’re so impatient” he scolded, lifting my shirt over my head, then taking his suit and dress shirt off.

When I stood there nude, Damien pushed me up against the wall, pinning my hands above my head.

“I want you to beg for me” Damien growled, rubbing his hips against mine.

“Ah fuck, fuck, Damien, please, I need you inside me, please, oh fuck please” I groaned, trying to free my wrist from Damien’s grip.

“Just because you asked so nicely” He purred, letting go of my hands and picking me up by my ass, sliding me down onto his cock.

I threw my head back, banging it on the wall, as I let out a shout. Damien smiled, being smug about my reaction.

“Move, oh fuck, please move, Damien” I clawed at his back as I started rocking my hips, trying to get some pleasure. Damien relented and started to thrust in and out of me.

“Fucking hell Y/N you feel so fucking good” Damien groaned, feeling up my ass.

My back was being slammed against the wall again and again as Damien pushed in and out of me, earning shouts of pleasure from my mouth. Eventually I felt the familiar knot in my stomach.

“D-Damien I’m going to, fuck, I’m going to cum” I moaned, feeling Damien’s thrusts get harder and faster. His jaw went slack as he came with me, both of us shouting out as we reached our orgasm.

Damien set me back onto my feet, steadying my wobbling legs.

“I spent this entire time trying to seduce you with flowers, it would have been nice to know that I just had to get angry to get you horny” Damien, shrugged his jacket back on, chuckling “however I did not want this to be how it happened” He stopped chuckling as he fiddled with his jacket cuffs.

“For what to happen?” I asked, pulling my pants on

“I wanted to tell you that I love you in a romantic way, not after fucking you against the wall” Damien ran a hand through his hair, I smiled at him, taking his hand in mine

“Not everything happens the way we want it to, but it could have been worse” I giggled to myself “I love you too, you romantic loser” He gave me a small laugh, leaning in for a kiss.

#damien #darkiplier #markiplier #x male reader #male reader #smut #lemon #egos #a heist with markiplier #ahwm #a date with markiplier #adwm #who killed markiplier #wkm #wilford warfstache #yancy

[inkribbon796]

Brotherly Strife Ch. 2

Chapter 2: You’ve Been Given a Great Gift, Bim

Summary: Bim’s adventure continues and he learns that being Dark’s favorite isn’t all fun and games.

A/N: WARNING because Bim eats someone in this.

Chapters: 1, 2

Everything at the station was normal, fine. Well except for the fact his show was a full hour earlier than normal, but he tried to get over that, it was one day. It’d be fine.

Wil greeted him warmly and everyone stepped lightly around Wil’s ever-changing moods. But Bim was always aware of Dark’s aura lingering always in the background of any room Bim was in.

It was weird, but Bim felt something like pride about it. Dark never paid this much attention to him. He wondered if this was what Illinois got every day.

The show went okay, nothing went too wrong. But instead of Wil quickly sweeping him away, Dark’s portal physically moved him from the stage and dumped him into a cold office room, one that it took Bim a bit to recognize as Dark’s office in the Manor. Dark was standing there.

“A warning would have been nice,” Bim grumbled.

Dark was just staring, unblinking at him with a frigid expression on his face, “Normally I would let you go about your day, but your flagrant insistence about wasting your time has gotten on my last nerve.”

“Come on, you don’t force Illy to do this,” Bim muttered.

“I don’t keep track of what your insufferable friends do,” Dark dismissed in a terse, angry tone. “We’re continuing your lessons, now.”

“Okay,” Bim allowed, unsure what these “lessons” would be but if Illinois had ever done them then he could probably do it.

Dark seemed to lose a little bit of tension and he swept back the dark fringe of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “Finally, some sense. That bastard glitch isn’t teaching you anything of merit.”

“Harsh,” Bim commented bravely.

Dark walked up and with absolutely gentleness he smoothed out Bim’s hair and suit with aura, not physically touching him but his hands moving through the motions. “You’re Wil’s heir, you deserve only the best.”

At first, Bim didn’t know what to start commenting on, but then Dark’s aura seemed to seep into his suit coat, turning it from its normal black to an inky black color.

“There,” Dark said, “that should help you start.”

Then the Entity took a step back and waited, for what Bim didn’t have the foggiest idea.

Dark just stared at him, unblinkingly.

Bim looked around, “What am I supposed to do again.”

“You are not doing this again,” Dark spat, suddenly furious. Bim flinched, feeling Dark’s aura coil around him, tightening just shy of going from uncomfortable to painful. “You are staying here until I get something out of you. You and Wil constantly insist I treat you like an adult, but the very instant I start, you complain incessantly.”

“I don’t know what you want!” Bim shouted back.

That got Dark even angrier, “You know what I want, so start taking this seriously!”

“No I don’t know,” Bim began to panic, he’d never seen Dark direct his anger towards him like this before.

It terrified him.

Dark glared at him, furious but the coiling loosened a bit. He swept his hair out of the way. “Bim I am doing this with your best interest in mind. Wil doesn’t teach, and that glitch doesn’t care. Other demons aren’t going to wait for you to gain an interest in learning magic.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Bim asked.

Something in Dark seemed to be merciful, the aura uncoiled from around Bim but lingered on his coat. Dark took a deep breath before holding up his hands and tore open a portal into the Void. “You have my aura inside you, just use it. You always go for huge holes in reality. Start small.”

Bim felt actual dread chilling his body. He’d never tried to use the Void, it always seemed like an untamed wild beast that wanted to swallow him whole. He’d only learned he had an aura after being in an aura-dampening environment.

But he held up his hand like Dark, unsure what to exactly do at first.

For the first five seconds there was nothing, Bim didn’t know what to do or say. But after a disappointed sigh from Dark, his aura creeped along Bim’s arms and he felt a tingling at his fingertips that had a weird burning effect on them.

It steadily got more painful until a deep purple, almost black, portal with flecks of pink and lavender color bleeding through.

Bim felt something in him twisting, almost hypnotizing him as he stared at it. Something trying to claw its way out of him.

But Dark closed the portal and Bim collapsed, feeling so unendingly hungry that he growled at the ground, his mind starting to cloud into the beginning stages of a frenzy. A chill starting to prickle in his chest.

Fortunately, for Bim at least, he was already hearing the choked screams of a human already bleeding and injured.

Unlike all the other times when Bim would stalk and study and enjoy himself with the thrill of the hunt he just lunged for whatever pitiful creature Dark had found for him.

Bim went for their throat, relishing in the choked screams and the blood around him.

Dark just watched calmly until Bim was done, what had once been a human being was now a mound of limbs, broken bones, and gore.

It was only once Bim was sated that he realized he was gasping for breath, as if he’d run a mile. He looked at himself in disgust as he realized his suit was ruined with blood.

“Ughh,” Bim complained.

Dark’s aura came back and Bim felt something in him that he hadn’t felt before — maybe that was his own aura — try and recoil away from Dark and lean into him at the same time.

Dark used his aura to force Bim to look up at him, “See, now was that so hard? A couple more lessons and you’ll have it.”

Run!

Bim felt like he’d been jolted by something, he was on edge, and felt like he’d been electrocuted by something. He was running and at first he didn’t know where his feet were taking him. But all too soon he ran into his bedroom and straight into the bathroom where he began throwing up into the toilet.

He felt disgusting and so different, like Dark had just uncorked some demonic genie inside of him and Bim wanted that feeling again, but it came with such an intense hunger he was afraid that he’d never be full again.

After a shower, Bim stared at himself in the fogged up mirror, glasses back on. He looked like a pale, death stricken mess. His eyes coal black.

He didn’t want to look like that, maybe if he went to bed this whole nightmare would be over. The Host said that—

Bim rushed to get dressed in his pajamas and raced for the balcony, but to his horror the house started to fold around him and he ran into the library instead. To his immediate and immense relief the Host was the room’s only occupant.

The blind seer looked in Bim’s direction as he threw the door open.

“How is Bim enjoying his time as being the Entity’s favorite?” Host had a huge smile on his face.

Bim was too worked up to realize that the Manor’s library was much bigger than he ever remembered it being and there were two whole shelves of Braille books.

“You win,” Bim told him. “You win. Just bring Illinois back.”

The Host arched an eyebrow, taking his hand off his book, Bim noticed that it was all just Braille and no words. “The Host does not recall an Illinois. Who is Bim referring to?”

“Don’t be an asshole, you know who I’m talking about, lesson learned,” Bim admitted, feeling anxious. “Just bring him back, and things can go back to normal.”

“Now why would the Host do that,” the Host chuckled darkly. “The Host had been looking for a way to get rid of Illinois for some time. Good riddance in his mind.”

“No, not funny asshole,” Bim stomped closer, panic starting to cloud up in his chest. “Bring him back, you said it wasn’t permanent.”

“Awww, you do love me,” Illinois said from directly behind Bim.

The Host broke out in laughter—

“Ha ha, shitbags,” Bim spat, Illinois was laughing too, walking over to bump his knuckles against the Host’s.

“That was so good,” Illinois laughed, the library suddenly just a bit smaller, the Braille books gone — safely back in the Host’s library in the Hero’s base. “You still got it.”

“You both are total assholes,” Bim told his older brothers.

“Consider it revenge for wishing me away,” Illinois reminded. “You’re lucky Dark won’t remember it.”

“If you want a thank you or an apology, you’re not getting it,” Bim spat, then he looked at the Host who was just watching them. Narrations under his breath and a smile in his face. “Hey Host what’s up with all the differences? Kay was still with us and he looked like a coffee addict.”

The Host stood up. “Illinois is responsible for a lot of things, the King of the Squirrels wouldn’t have a preference for tea nor would the Manor have such a big coffee mug collection if not for the Adventurer bringing them into the house.”

“Huh, he responsible for anything else?” Bim asked, his tone sour.

“With someone for the Entity to concentrate his attention on, everyone else in the Manor has less stress in their lives,” the Host explained. “And if something goes wrong Illinois has the personality to want to soften the blow for his siblings. King got to learn that there was a life outside of the Network, and Yancy was in a position to be an enforcer rather than a captain who never leaves the warehouses. Much is different, but yet some is still the same.”

“Okay, enough of stroking Ill’s ego off,” Bim rolled his eyes, pushing Illinois away from him when he tried to reach over and ruffle his hair.

Illinois chuckled, sticking his hands back into his pockets. “Hey Host, can yah do it? You didn’t answer me before Bimmy got back.”

Bim glared at Illinois when that nickname left his mouth.

“The Host is currently capable of maintaining an effect of that nature,” the Host answered.

“Yes!” Illinois cheered, moving his feet in excitement. “I owe you until the end of time, Host.”

“The Host will remember that,” Host smiled as Illinois raced out of the room in a full sprint.

“What was that about,” Bim motioned to Illinois with a thumb, his other hand on his hip.

“Illinois will tell Bim himself, probably in a day or two,” the Host evaded. “It is not the Host’s to tell.”

“Whatever,” Bim dismissed. “Cryptic fucker, don’t you have a forty-year-old man to fuck or something?”

“Bim should be careful not to insult the Host’s doctor,” the Host warned tersely.

“Hey, you’re the one sleeping with a manther not me,” Bim shrugged, checking his nails. “Not insulting him, just stating a fact that he’s old enough to be your dad.”

“Bim can either retire the topic of his own volition or he’ll find himself waking up the next day,” Host threatened.

“Okay, fine, fine,” Bim held up his hands placatingly, before realizing that the Host could see them and quickly lowered them to his side. “But can I ask you something else?”

“Bim can so long as he minds the Host’s threat,” the Host reminded.

Rolling his eyes, Bim braced a wrist on his hips, a thoughtful frown on his face that reminded the Host a fair bit of Dark. “Am I really Dark’s kid? Like physically, I mean. Obviously I’m dad’s, I look just like him, but what about the old man?”

“Bim Trimmer is the clone of Wilford Warfstache and the Entity known as Dark,” the Host answered.

“How?” Bim asked.

“The Host is this story’s narrator, not it’s writer,” the Host reminded sharply. “It is not his job to know.”

“Yeah but you have to know something,” Bim continued to inquire.

“Demons reproduce via aura, Bim Trimmer is a half to three-quarters juvenile demon,” the Host continued. “Otherwise he could not have inherited the Entity’s aura.”

“Okay, stop, ewww, if this is gonna turn into a demonic birds and the bees talk, we can stop,” Bim interrupted him. “I already got that talk, and I don’t want to know how dad and old man have sex.”

“The Host doesn’t want to have such a talk either,” the Host agreed. “The Host and Bim do not need to talk about their fathers in such a way.”

“The old man doesn’t let me call him “dad” in any language,” Bim frowned.

“That is between Bim and his father to work out,” the Host reminded. “But not tonight, Bim Trimmer is tired from his exploits and needs his rest for the next day.”

“Yeah,” Bim sighed, he was exhausted. But things were back to normal again and he needed five hundred hours of sleep. “Night Host, see you tomorrow.”

“No Bim Trimmer will not,” the Host called after him as Bim started to leave the library. “The Host does not live at the Manor anymore.”

“Right, whatever,” Bim dismissed with a wry chuckle from outside the library.

“Bim!” Host called out and fortunately he didn’t have to use his narrations to drag him back towards the door.

“Yeah? Penless Wonder?” Bim leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

“If Bim Trimmer wishes to get away with treating the Entity like a father, he should begin doing so when he is going to quickly leave and not return for a period of time. He should be quick and persistent. It took Illinois many, many years for Illinois to get to a point where the Entity no longer reacts negatively towards being called 아빠 and Bim should expect the same.”

“Oh,” Bim commented softly. “Thanks, night.”

“The Host wishes Bim goodnight,” the Host smiled warmly.

Using his narrations, Host made sure to keep an eye on Bim as he went to his bedroom and promptly went to sleep the second he was on his bed.

Narrowly missing Dark who was walking down the hall. Reality split off from its previous trajectory and to the Host the hallway echoed with a dangerously volatile argument that would start a domino effect for Dark.

But Dark just walked in, a calm expression as he checked his watch, unaware of what he had missed. “Are you certain I cannot keep you a bit longer?”

“The Host needs to return to the heroes, the Actor gets closer and the Host would appreciate it if he doesn’t sneak amongst their ranks,” the Host denied.

Dark went tense, “You are not to even be near him, I can’t lose you as well. I would kill the heroes before I let that happen.”

“The Host is fine, the Actor is not interested in him,” the Host demanded. “The Entity is what the Actor wants.”

“Then let him come, I am ready for him,” Dark dared. “I would tear him apart.”

No the Entity will not, the Host thought sadly, thousands of different variations of their future meeting playing across his mind, all with only one victor.

“The Entity must let the Host go,” the Host managed to reply.

Dark sighed, closing his eyes as he nodded. He looked away as he opened a portal, turning his back on the blind seer.

The Host looked at the portal before using his narrations and his aura to be able to reach Dark for a hug. Dark tensed as if he’d been electrocuted at the warmth that came from the Host’s body heat.

“The Host is thankful for everything that the Entity has done for him and the Author,” Host told him. “The Entity has been a good father, and the Host doubts the Author would have lasted as long as he did if not for the Entity looking after him.”

“Don’t,” Dark sounded strangled, pointedly not looking at him.

Letting go of his father, the Host stayed by his side. “The Host means it, he only wishes that he could say so more directly.”

Dark looked at him before capturing the Host into his arms, his aura curling around the Host with feather-like gentleness. “I’d keep you all here, forever if I could,” Dark told him.

“The Host knows,” the Host hugged him back. “Dark should be made aware that there will be a time when all of his children will live in the Manor again.”

Letting go, Dark let out a sad chuckle, “You will look after your brothers won’t you? Kay isn’t sleeping at the park in this cold of weather right?”

“The Host promises he will, and he stays at the base during the winter,” Host reported.

“Good,” Dark let out a long breath of relief. “I worry about him.”

Smiling, the Host turned, already putting one foot into the portal. “Oh and Illinois has a surprise for the Entity, he should meet him in his office.”

“Okay, goodnight Host,” Dark gave a small, fond smile as the Host went through the portal with an answering goodbye and stepped across the hero’s barrier that protected the front steps of their base.

The rip in reality winked closed and Dark looked after it for a bit before opening a small portal to check on Bim, who he saw sleeping peacefully in bed.

With a sad smile, Dark reached over with his aura to smooth over a part of Bim’s hair that had bunched up when he rolled over.

Bim grunted at the touch and his fingers twitched, but something reached out and gently nudged at Dark’s aura. It wasn’t anything enough to fully push Dark away but it was enough of a surprise for Dark to pull away. Bim had never displayed a hint of an aura to him.

Dark had taken . . . steps . . . to ensure that he wouldn’t. Bim was, by virtue of being Wil and Dark’s child, part demon. Infantile and juvenile demons without auras were ignored by other demons because they weren’t a threat. But now that Bim had enough an aura for it to manifest without him being conscious . . .

Closing up the portal Dark had to do something about this.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #birthday post #cannibalism #Bim Trimmer #Darkiplier #the Host #Illinois the Adventurer #ahwm Illinois #minor child endangerment #magic #sibling rivalry #angst #it’s loving Dark hours #after the angst takes place #Dark is trying his best

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #310

“i get pretty just to fuck my face up.”

Do you have a clock in your room? No. What book, movie, TV show, or video game have you been wanting to start up? I *want* to read The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, but I care more about reading Wings of Fire, so I probably realistically won't for a long time. I don't read enough for that; Sutherland will surely keep pumping out books in the series so I'll never catch up, haha. As for a movie, I've been interested in seeing Jacob's Ladder for a very long time; it served as a very large influence on the Silent Hill series, and boy, anyone who brings up video games in front of me knows SH is my SHIT. I also just know I'm bound to like it with how essentially legendary it is in the psychological horror genre, which is my favorite. Onto TV show, I'm not certain. Shows don't really interest me. I would like to keep watching A:TLA w/ Sara, but "start up" implies beginning something new, so. Lastly, video games. There are a LOT of games I want to play, but yeah, I have no operational gaming console above a PS2. I'm dyinnnngggggg to play a ton of PS4 remasters (namely the original Spyro the Dragon trilogy and SoTC), but as for a fresh game I've never experienced, Ico, which is from the same producers of Shadow of the Colossus. It's an old game, and Mom's bought it off of Ebay for me twice, but neither disc worked - they froze only minutes into the game. It's hella expensive in new condition though because of its age... so who knows when I'll actually get to play it. Do you put anything else on your grilled cheese sandwiches? Just butter. Have you ever read a book in a different language? I've read some simple fairy tales as well as the play Faust in German courses. Do you want to go to the Harry Potter theme park at Universal? I have no connection with the franchise, but I mean, I'd go if you're paying, haha. If you had a secret room in your house, how would you decorate it? I'm trying to think what kind of room I'd keep a secret... Ha, actually, IF my love of tarantulas expands so largely to having dozens (which I doubt, but I acknowledge the possibility once I get my own place), a room kept on the down low to others just for them would be pretty cool. Imagine someone not knowing they're sharing a house with like, a hundred Ts, haha. As for actual decor, I'm unsure. I'd definitely keep it generally dark for them as nocturnal creatures, maybe with some Halloween decorations, like lots of fake webbing and neon green or orange lights. Man... that sounds dope. What did you get your dad for his last birthday? I couldn't buy him anything, nor did I actually make anything since I didn't know what to create. I just told him happy birthday, of course. Do any of your relatives live in another country? No. Are you claustrophobic? In some spaces, yes. Ever seen Blair Witch? Without spoilers, you know "that part" near the end? Yeah, if you've seen it, you know. That would be a fucking NIGHTMARE for me. Even watching it made me squirm. When grocery shopping, do you usually buy brand names or store brand? With most items anyway, we just get the store brand bc we cheap. Around what time do you usually eat dinner? Generally between 5:30-6:30 nowadays. Do you have any clothing that you get dry cleaned? No. Do you like foods with coconut in it? Eugh, not a coconut fan. I don't hate it as much as I used to, but I still don't like it. Have you ever researched your family history? No, but some past relative researched our family tree. Have you ever had surgery that kept you in the hospital for over a day? No. Do you like carrots more if they’re raw, or cooked? I hate carrots. Did you play with Legos as a kid? Nah, I was more into Lincoln Logs. Which bothers you more… spelling mistakes or bad grammar? It really depends on the severity and simplicity of the spelling or grammar rule. Grammatical misuse of "there/their/they're" stand out very strongly to me, though. Have you ever bought anything off of eBay? Yeah, a good number of things. Is anybody in your family schizophrenic? If so, what is their life like? I have a scizophrenic half-sister that I've never met, so I couldn't tell you. How organized is your mind? How do you know it's organized/disorganized? My mind is running Windows '98 with multiple windows and even more tabs open, all of them not responding. :^) Why do you follow the religion that you do? I don't follow one. My personal religious journey was a train wreck liberating to jump off of. Do you feel superior to others because you're that religion? I don't care if you're atheist, Christian, Buddhist, Islamic, whatever - you are by no means superior to another person in any way just because you believe different things happen once you die. If you do, it's time for some introspection. Are you a blind believer, or do you frequently challenge your own beliefs? Seeing as I went from Catholic to Christian to briefly Neo-Pagan-ish to what I am now, just believing there's some higher power/knowledge and some form of sentience after death, I obviously challenge them. What's the greatest thing about science? Life itself. This universe, this planet, your state of just knowing is a product of science, and that's pretty damn beautiful. Are you emotional or very stolid? I know I'm too emotional. I'm trying to get better about it. Do your siblings look like you? To a degree, but not NEARLY as much as they look like each other. Ashley and Nicole have been mistaken multiple times in their lives and even asked if they're twins. How many states have you lived in? Just this shitty one. How many states have you traveled through/vacationed in? Traveled through, a whole lot. Up and down the east coast. I've stayed in New York, Florida, Ohio, Illinois, South Carolina briefly, and I think possibly Michigan as a baby. Which state was/is your favorite? I don't know. Not NC, haha. You have two weeks alone in any place in the world; where would you go? Alone? Um... I dunno. I'd get lonely through two weeks in absolute isolation. How old were you when you first moved out of your parents' home? I want to say I was 18 when I briefly "moved in" with Jason and our roommates. Did you ever have to move back in? Yeah; the apartment didn't last very long. None of us were ready. How old were you when you thought you were "in love" for the first time? I was in love at 16. I'd fight God literally for eternity to prove that fact. How many exterior doors are in your home? Two, or maybe three, depending on your outlook. We have like this deck in the back with a roof and mesh separating you from the outside, and then you properly go into the yard from the door beyond that. How many cars have you owned? I myself, none. How many email accounts do you have? Ummmm my very first one I misspelled, so I didn't use it long before making a new one with the correct spelling, then later I had no choice but to make a Gmail to use YouTube, and I know I've had at least one email specifically for school. I'm probably forgetting some other oldies I used for small things. What was the last movie you watched alone? The Shining. What (if any) one television program do you watch religiously every day/week? None. What (if any) is your favorite sport? Dance. Scoff at that shit and then try one dance session and tell me it's not one. What is your favorite musical? None. Have you ever seen a live opera production? No. Dressing up for an evening out: Pants or skirt? Pants. I don't show my legs. What do you currently hear right now? I'm listening to Dance With the Dead's "The Man Who Made a Monster." I LOVE the aesthetic of synthwave and rock mixed together, but the only problem I have with this song is that it's very repetitive. Still stuck in my head though, haha. What type of survey do you refuse to take? I'm not into bolding surveys, specifically. Do you like to run? bitch fuck no Do you think you could run the mile in 10 minutes? Zero chance. What was the longest movie you watched? Hm, I don't remember... It's faintly there in my head, I just can't identify it... Have you ever been to a job interview? Well yeah. Who was the last person to call you? My psychiatrist. Now that I'm doing the partial hospitalization program again, he calls once a week. When was the last time you talked to your last ex boyfriend? Uhhh I think around the start of this month? Missed him and felt like chatting for a bit. Is your dog mixed or full? I don't have a dog, buuuut... we're getting one soon! I'm quite sure she's a mutt. What was the last thing you and your mother did together? Rode to the pharmacy to pick up my meds. Do you take good pictures? I like to think so. What is your display picture on myspace/facebook right now? The most recent selfie I took and liked. I'm finally comfortable using makeupless photos as a display picture. :') Not that I like my body by any means, I just don't care enough to feel like I HAVE to wear makeup to be even remotely pretty in the face. As for everywhere else... ahahaha. What is going on outside right now? It's raining. Like it has been for what feels like literally weeks - and it might actually have been. There's been one or two sunny days in a huge streak of just nothing but rain. It's so gross outside by now; we've been under a flood warning for days on end. Who was the last person you kissed? My best friend, but we were dating then. What color looks the best on you? Black. Have you ever bought the wrong size because you were too lazy to check it? Oh, absolutely. I LOATHE trying on clothes. You have to essentially drag me to go do it. I don't have a good reason other than I don't want to, lol. What was the last thing you bought over 5 dollars? I put down the deposit on my tattoo. c: Do you have any mag subscriptions? No. What is something you're not scared of but a lot of people are? Snakes are probably the highest on the list. I adore snakes, all snakes. Would you ever have a threesome? No; I'm strictly monogamous and to me would be cheating even if your partner was in on it. Are you an U.S. citizen? Yep. Do you have any step siblings? I have a stepbrother, yeah, but I don't see him as my brother, honestly. He's a very quiet and reclusive guy I've had almost no conversations with, and they've only ever been short. Do they annoy you? Nah, he's fine. How many times a day do you talk to your mom on the phone? Well, we live together... What did you wear yesterday? The same pjs I'm in now. I'm changing when I take a shower later. The tank top is a Day of the Dead-esque skull pattern, while the pants are mostly navy with skulls and candy can crossbones that say "nice until proven naughty" arching over and beneath them. They were a Christmas gift from my sis and are really soft and comfortable. Really don't care that it's now out of season, I wear them anyway. I do not match colors AT ALL, but again, I don't care. What color straightener do you have? We don't have one; neither Mom or I use one. Do you listen to music really loud or really low? Turn that shit up LOUD. I'll be nearly deaf one day, but... worth it? lol Do you live with anybody other than your siblings and your parents? No. Both my sisters have moved out. I'm still here because I'm just not emotionally or financially equipped to live on my own yet. Who was your last crush? I still like my best friend, but agree with her that right now isn't the time for anything. How many tattoos do you have? Currently only six. :( What is your favorite thing to do? Car rides with Mom while I ride passenger, controlling the music nice and loud with my iPod. It's odd, considering I'm very afraid of being on the road, but it's just such a freeing, wild feeling to blare music and just go, letting your mind wander. How many pets do you own? I only have a cat and a snake right now, but we're getting a dog hopefully very soon, preferably today actually when Mom has to go to the appropriate city for her normal check-up to keep her cancer at bay. Her name is Vanna and sounds so perfect for us. Mom can barely wait. Are you close with your parents? Yes, very, Mom especially. Where do you shop the most for your clothes? Hot Topic or Wal-Mart. I'd really like more stuff from Rebel's Market; they have such a wide range of stuff that just scream my aesthetic. I got my purse from there, and it's fantastic quality and so cool-looking. Have you ever read a whole series of books? Well, one trilogy that I remember: Shiloh. I adored those books and the movies. I got very, very deep into Warriors by Erin Hunter, but then my interest in reading waned, and I'm immensely behind. I don't think I'll pick it up again, but I've thought briefly about it. When you tell someone you love them do you mean it? Yes. Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up? I walked. Do you ever eat anything everybody else thinks is gross? Hm, perhaps. I'd have to think for a while. What did you do for your last birthday? I just ate pizza at home with my one sister that was free that day, Mom, and a family friend, as well as opened presents. What do you plan on doing for your 18th birthday? I don't recall, but I think that may have been when I was in the psych hospital. Or was that my 21st? I don't remember. Do you have to type with good grammer? Yes. I type pretty much exactly how I talk. What is your favorite quote? It's hard to pick one singular favorite. Are you allowed to cuss in front of your parents? Dad could care less, but I try to limit myself with Mom, especially with "fuck." She's not a fan, nor does she like if I just swear too much in front of her. Like she won't yell at me or anything, she just makes it clear she wants me to stop. How long was your last phone conversation? Just a couple minutes. I didn't get the Zoom link to group therapy one day and let the place know. Turns out their email was fucking up. Which one of your friends annoy you? The family friend I mentioned a few questions above has the ability to be incredibly aggravating. I love her, but she has zero issue with inserting herself into everything (and sometimes we just don't want to see her), and she voices incredibly rude opinions literally no one asks for a whoooole lot. She's got a strong tendency to try to take control over every situation. Her being our landlord now makes it harder to speak up, and besides, no one wants to hurt her feelings. Don't be mistaken though, she truly is an incredible person with a heart more caring than probably any person I know. Have you ever lost a close friend to death? No, thank fuck. I mean, I think. I do believe one of my childhood online friends committed suicide because of sexual abuse from her own fucking brother, but I guess I'll never know. She was talking to me one night horribly depressed and scared and then just vanished. Bless her, I loved her. Do you know someone who suffers from addiction? Yes. Do you have a lot of pictures in your room? Tons of posters and artwork, anyway. I currently don't have any photographs, but I got this shadowbox thing for my bday to decorate with pictures of Teddy so I can use it in my "tribute shrine" or whatever for him, and I'd also like to frame the picture of Sara's and my first hug and maybe put it on my bedside table. Do you have Facebook? Yeah, I do. Have you ever found a dog/cat on the side of the road? I myself, no, but a friend's mom did find two poor kittens thrown aside in a fucking plastic bag... Some people are abominable. Knowing how much my family loved cats, she reached out to us, and we took them in and named them Aphrodite and... I can't remember the other's name. She disappeared kinda early. Aphrodite wound up being one of my most beloved cats and was even the mother of a kitten that same family adopted. Delilah is still alive, doing wonderfully, and incredibly loved. <3 Aphrodite, meanwhile, as well as all our other cats at the time, were taken by animal control because our neighbors were tired of them wandering, even though they were too fucking cowardly to confront us first. I've said in many surveys that I am very much against outdoor cats, but I wasn't then because I was uninformed and really didn't understand. I wailed and sobbed and just pure shrieked like a banshee outside when we came home to learn they were taken. I have no clue how any are now, and that's the worst part. Do you go bowling in your town? We are in the middle of a pandemic, lol. Even beforehand though, I rarely went. Last time I did was on a date with Girt. We had fun. Do you have a drive-in theater? No sir. What brand is your favorite shoe? Converse. Is your best friend's mom like your own? They're quite similar, yes. Both are very sweet and caring for others. Do you have anxiety or depression? Try both. What is your favorite fast food restaurant? Sonic. Do you own a pair of brass knuckles? Nah. Have you and your friends ever made up a word? Likely as kids. Do you have any embarrassing baby pictures of yourself? Not that I know of. What is the worst smell in the world? Anyone remember that survey I took mentioning my dog's old tumor? Yeah, that after he spent overnight in a diaper and inevitably peed himself in his old age. And he had a UTI. You probably can't even imagine how fucking vomit-inducing that smell was. Do you dye your hair a lot? No. :/ I really wish. I have so many colors I wanna try. Do you have anybody in your family who rides dirtbikes/fourwheelers? Not really? No one in my family owns one. My younger sister would totally go if you asked her and had one for her to use, though. She's done it plenty before. Have you ever rode a dirtbike/fourwheeler? Yeah, a fourwheeler, and it's really fun! Tell me how you got one of your scars? Hmmm, let's think of a unique one. Ah, my shins, left one especially. When I shave my legs, they get unbelievably itchy, even if I use lotion, and I would scratch my skin absolutely raw so often that I have permanent scars. It's partially why I barely shave my legs anymore. Have you ever had a friend who cut themselves? I know many, sadly. I don't know of any that still do, thankfully. I promise, it never helps. If you ever have the urge, I can't suggest enough running where you want to self-harm under cold water or slap the location (like your wrist) with a rubber band. The latter is especially helpful. It's a similar burning sensation and doesn't leave marks. It would help me refrain sometimes. What is your favorite thing to do in the summer? Swim in a nice, warm pool. Otherwise, become a hermit and wait for the outdoors to not be prepared to melt the flesh off my bones. x_x Do you go tanning or do you lay out? Neither, ugh. As you can guess from above, I hate the sensation of heat on me. What is your favorite skin lotion? I just really like cocoa butter. Smells really good and is perfectly moisturizing. Do you use a lot of hair products? The only hair product I use is shampoo, haha. Do you have a cousin you dislike? No. Well, one is incredibly brainwashed and misled by her psychopath of a father, but I love her nonetheless. We talk now and again because family is important to her. Have you ever heard Theory of a Deadman? Yeah, they're good. What is your comfort food? Absolutely ice cream. Who is your celebrity crush? Mark Fischbach/Markiplier is a perfect human being with the looks of a god and heart of a saint and you cannot convince me otherwise. What’s the song you most wish you had written? "Imagine" by John Lennon is a high contendant, for sure. Definitely something I'd write. Have you ever been stuck by someone very annoying on a plane/bus/etc? I think so at one point or another. Did you get lost at all on your first day of high school? Ha, for sure. Have you ever been interrupted during sex? A bitch knows how to act asleep if she hears a door so much as barely squeak, I'll tell you that much lmaooo. Have you ever been recorded doing stupid things while drunk? No. Has a significant other ever called you by the wrong name? No. Have you ever cooked anything and it turned out horrible? I've barely actually cooked anything in order TO fuck up. Have you ever made a bad first impression on someone’s parents? I can't say with certainty, but I think Jason's mom had her doubts about me at first because she commented on the ripped jeans I wore when I went to his house for the first time. She came to love me like her own though, and I love(d) her. I was actually just thinking about her and how she's doing the other day. What is a food that you always are in the mood to eat? Always? Perhaps sour candy, like Sour Punch Straws in specific. Ever held a newborn animal? Many kittens, yes. Do you make a wish when you blow out your birthday candles? I do, but just for the annual appeal of it. I don't actually believe it will have any effect on what I wished, it's just... normal, ig. What is the last thing you searched for online? Medical coding classes. Having trouble finding any free ones that are actually legit... Is it wicked hard for you to sleep when it's hot in your room? It's borderline impossible. Do you dunk your cookies in milk? Sometimes, and almost always with Oreos. Do medical terms make you uncomfortable? Ha, speaking of medical coding... No, not really. It's unnerving to hear "you have _____," but I understand it can be something so, so minor. Of course, it could be the exact opposite, but. I also actually find it quite interesting to learn the Latin roots of the terms. Are you afraid of failure? Beyond measure. Have you been called a bad influence? Yes, to my former friend's son. Not that that witch of a woman was a great person. I'd love to know how an infant can be negatively affected by receiving nothing but love from his "aunt," also having no concept of understanding about me being unemployed and not very "adult-ish" in general, which I'm sure is what she meant. Normally judgment hits me deep, but that shit I just rolled my eyes at.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''bottom is a rock'' by mother mother

[shitty-check-please-aus]

2020 Books Read So Far

Note: Most of these are audiobooks (listening to books counts as reading books and if you disagree I’d ask you to consider why you believe that), books I started and didn’t finish will be listed but not reviewed, and all my opinions are extremely subjective. I’m putting this on this blog because I want to and I think it’ll help me keep track of what I’ve read if I write it down in a couple places. 

Some notes:

I’m surprised that most of these are nonfiction! I don’t usually think of myself as a nonfiction reader. 

Having audiobooks has made me way more productive as a reader, since I can read while I’m doing repetitive tasks at work, when I have to stand on the bus, when I’m running, etc. 

Naked, by David Sedaris

3/5, the audiobook was “unabridged selections” which means “we didn’t edit the individual essays but you’re only getting half the book”– it would probably have been a 4/5 if it was a whole book. I liked that Amy Sedaris was reading parts of it, but that’s because I like her more than I like her brother. This is sort of an example of the difference between “comedic” and “humorous,” because it’s definitely the latter. 

Read it if: you want to read something pretty fucking weird. 

Lafayette in the Somewhat United States, by Sarah Vowell

4/5, I saw this recommended a lot when Hamilton first came out so it’s been in the back of my mind for a good while. The book had a great cast, and having different people reading the historical quotes was an excellent touch! 

However, I think Vowell’s conversational style is a little jarring here sometimes. It’s like “wait, why are you talking about Bruce Springsteen, I’m not that familiar with his work but he definitely isn’t from Revolutionary War times.” I got her book Assassination Vacation at a used bookshop recently as well, and both books suffer from post-2016 hindsight, where she’ll say something about how incompetent and foolish the politicians of her time are, and I just have to snort to myself and say “Sarah, you’re going to lose your goddamn mind soon.” That’s a bit of an unfair reaction, but it’s hard to avoid having it.

I was also, maybe unfairly, expecting to learn more than I did. The problem is that I know a Lot about the Revolutionary War, and from the introduction I thought we’d hear more about Lafayette’s later life (my knowledge drops sharply after about 1810). The book basically ends after the Battle of Yorktown, though.

Read it if: you have not seen/listened to both Hamilton and 1776, or if you want to read a summary of the Revolutionary War with a focus on one French captain. 

Assassination Vacation, by Sarah Vowell

3/5, honestly maybe a 2.5/5. Okay, so. Either I know a lot more about American History than I felt like I did or this is again a very surface level thing. Part of it is because she spends 123 pages on Abe Lincoln. There are 255 pages total. 2/3 of the states I’ve lived in are Indiana and Illinois, two states that fight about claiming Lincoln as their own, and I’ve been to D.C. 4 or 5 times, so I feel like I know enough about Lincoln. I know about John Wilkes Booth, and his brother Edwin who saved Lincoln’s son’s life, and the death train that took Lincoln’s body around the country. I did enjoy learning about the doctor who was probably conspiring with Booth and how he ended up saving tons of lives in prison when there was a yellow fever outbreak (also to be briefly unbearably nitpicky: I think she might have mixed up dengue and yellow fever? She calls yellow fever “breakbone” but I can only find instances online of people calling dengue fever that. Maybe they called them all breakbone in the late 1800s. If anyone reading this is an epidemiologist, let me know).

It was interesting to hear that Charles Guiteau, killer of President Garfield, was part of the Oneida cult. I’m trying to think of anything notable she said about Leon Czolgosz, killer of President McKinley. I guess she talks about how people assumed he was a foreigner because of his name, but I already listened to “The Ballad of Czolgosz” in Assassins, so I knew “Czolgosz, angry man, born in the middle of Michigan.”

This one is from 2005 so the politics stuff is a little more interesting, since at the time I was busy learning multiplication and spending one entire baseball season learning about baseball and following my team (they won the world series, I have excellent timing). I will say that in 2005 we did have Google, so I am again annoyed with some of her asides and personal anecdotes. Look, if you go to the Hemingway house and you don’t know there will be cats there, that’s on you if you don’t bring your Claritin. Hemingway is associated with only two good things, six-toed cats and Daiquiris. 

She also does not acknowledge that the parties basically switched platforms? Lincoln’s Republican party is not today’s Republican party, in fact kind of the opposite, so it’s weird that she starts the book with a dedication that’s like “to my lifelong Democrat grandpa, he’d be pissed I dedicated a book about 3 Republicans to him.” I guess she does sometimes say stuff like “how did Lincoln’s party become Reagan’s” (paraphrase), but she doesn’t actually get into it. 

Speaking of Democrats, she literally spends more time talking about Pablo Picasso than she spends talking about JFK. She doesn’t explain why she didn’t talk about JFK, but it seems bizarre to me to write a book about American assassinations and to leave out John Fucking Kennedy. Literally I’ve talked more about JFK in this section than she did in her assassin book. It’s not until page 253 that JFK gets a full paragraph. There are 255 pages total. Truly, if she’d taken a paragraph to be like “I’m focusing on the presidents who were elected before 1900″ or “the presidents whose immediate families aren’t still alive” or even “I didn’t want to travel to Dallas for research” or SOMETHING to explain why she left out JFK, I would have understood it more instead of flipping through the pages wondering what was going on. 

Read it if: You do not listen to too many history podcasts and you didn’t read the Wikipedia page for the musical Assassins. And I guess if you don’t want to acknowledge that JFK did also get assassinated and that was kind of a big deal. Actually just listen to Assassins instead. 

And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie

5/5 as a mystery, 0/5 for its original title (not gonna say it here but if you’ve ever googled the name of HP Lovecraft’s cat, it’s along those lines). Less than 6 hours, narrated by Dan Stevens from Downton Abbey, fairly ideal as an audiobook. I am 95% sure I’ve already read this, because I spent the summer before I started high school reading every Agatha Christie book in the library (I do not have a list of all the Agatha Christie books in my library the summer of 2010, so there is some question). 

Read if: you want to hear the guy from Downton Abbey deliver the line “I’m not a complete fool!” in a tone that makes it sound like “I’m not a fucking moron!” Sidenote: Can anyone tell me if Brits say “solder” by pronouncing the L that I’ve always heard as a silent L? Or if Dan Stevens just fucked up that one word?

Over The Top: A Raw Journey to Self-Love, by Jonathan Van Ness

4.5/5

This was a super enjoyable audiobook! It’s a testament to JVN’s considerable charisma that this book is full of him giving people in his past who would rather be anonymous Russian names, and it doesn’t get grating (as a Marina, however, I was shocked to not hear my name at any point; most of the other Marina’s I’ve met in my life are Russian). JVN has had a wild ride in life, and it’s a really raw, honest story of how he became who he is. I will say that if you are interested in reading this, please look up the trigger warnings; there are a lot of things that could be triggering to people. 

I feel a little bad at how much more I liked this one compared to Tan France’s memoir, but I also feel like whoever was ghostwriting that one did a bad job at making Tan seem... not extremely defensive, cocky, and prickly (it seems that JVN did not use a ghostwriter; Tan’s on the other hand, let the phrase “I’m proud to be a petty bitch” make it into the final proof several times). Also JVN advocates going to therapy in his book, while Tan kind of says that you should only go to therapy if you have no friends or family or life partner to talk to, which I fundamentally disagree with. I don’t know. I also feel like, if I were to get a makeover from the Fab 5, Jonathan would love my hair (I have great hair) while Tan would say that I’m dressing too old for a 24 year old and then take me to fucking Lane Bryant or Torrid (I wear a size 16 US so IRL options are limited). 

Read if: You like Queer Eye or Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness

Medallion Status, by John Hodgman

4.5/5

I really like John Hodgman’s podcast, and I got to ask him a question at an event he did at the Field Museum and he was very nice, so I went into this inclined to enjoy it. 

And I did! I had a good time reading it. I read it the first week of January and now it’s the second week of February so I have already erased much of the book’s content from my mind, but he somehow made the perspective of being a formerly kinda famous person really interesting. I would also recommend Vacationland, particularly if anyone wants to write an au where Nursey, as a New Yorker, has a vacation home in Dex’s town in Maine. That’s right, I brought it back around to the topic of this blog. And that would be a fucking fantastic au. 

Read it if: you like memoirs! it’s a good one. 

Murder on the Orient Express, by Agatha Christie

Gonna give this one a 3/5 for performance, because Dan Stevens (again, because I liked his narration in the other one) does a really annoying American accent for a few characters, and an extremely bad Italian accent for another. I’m starting this review only a few hours in, so if it turns out that the Italian man is not Italian, I’ll revoke my criticism. Still a 5/5 mystery, though. I did have to stop many times when they were talking about Istanbul to go over to Spotify and play “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” by They Might Be Giants. 

Books abandoned in 2020 (so far) (no real spoilers, I didn’t get more than a few chapters into any of them):

The Unhoneymooners, Christina Lauren

I got to a point where the main character was telling a lie that would put her newly accepted job into jeopardy, and it stressed me out so much as a relatively new hire that I stopped listening for the day and started another one, and then the week had passed and then the library took it back. I think I’d enjoy it more if I was reading it physically and I could control how fast I got through awkward parts (I am practically allergic to secondhand embarrassment). The performance was good and I did get a hankering for cheese curds. 

Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris

I had like three audiobooks checked out at the same time, and even though this was again an abridged version, I just didn’t have time for all of them. My mom has a physical copy, I’ll borrow that at some point. 

The Witch Elm, Tana French

This is one I may revisit someday. The main character is kind of an asshole, which is the point of his character I think, but it made it hard to get into the story. It’s also a 22 hour audiobook, which is kind of insanely long. Additionally, the narrator has a very slow way of talking, but if I tried to speed up the rate of playback I had trouble understanding his accent (I think I just have trouble processing really fast speech in general as well, but I would’ve had an easier time understanding someone with the same accent as me). Anyways, someone put a hold on it at the library and then I didn’t check it out again. 

#long post #off topic #Marina Reads #edit: put under a readmore bc I forgot to earlier

[resinatingbeauty]

Instead of doing another infographic, I thought I would tell you a spooky true story instead, one that changed my life forever. It has nothing to do with the history of Samhain or rituals or whatever, but it was the only verifiable experience I had ever had at that point in my life.

Here it goes, link at the bottom of this post for the local news article I ended up finding 8 or so years later as I didn’t think to do so at the time. Note the comment by the apartment’s previous tenant after the fact, describing ‘strange phenomena’.

It was early November, though all seasons seem to blend together when you live in Florida. I was born in St. Augustine, went up north to Illinois and Minnesota, coming back down here to Palm Coast where I’ve lived for over a decade. Full circle.

I was 19 and lacked the confidence to get a job in the fields that I got my certifications in as an Esthetician/Cosmetologist. I just wasn’t the social butterfly that I felt people expected from their hair stylist. I was also stubborn and wanted to do things my way, which I learned to not be eventually, but much later.

Needless to say, I spent the next year or so being a depressed drug addict working at a fast food place. The drug addiction wasn’t fully set in yet, only just beginning at this point. I still had actual friends that weren’t suppliers or people who just hung around because you got high together. One of them was named Cheryl.

Cheryl was in her late fifties and a former queen of the BDSM scene. How did I know that? She told me and, unfortunately, showed me a photo album once that I cannot unsee to this very day. Eccentric, yet worldly and intellectual. I enjoyed listening to Cheryl. She really didn’t give a flying fuck what other people thought of her because she thought she was great. And she really was.

I was driving her home for a while because she had been in a car accident.Hit by a car while riding her bike, as it that was the only mode of transportation she had. I felt bad for her, so I offered to give her rides home when I was working.

Home to Cheryl was actually a resort hotel that was coverted into fully furnished apartments when the European Village went on the decline due to its management being a complete crackhead. The place was well known as a luxury crack den and many people were always hanging around some drug dealer’s door. It probably had, and still does have, the cheapest rent in down. That’s also due to the fact that its had a fair share of overdoses and suicides in the five years total it had been standing at that point. I felt safe with Cheryl, but I was also naive. Thankfully, she wasn’t a junkie and never tried to rob me, kidnap, or rape so that was nice.

One night I didn’t have to close, Cheryl invited me in to hang out because I never felt like going home to my parent’s house. We would chat and she would show me old photos of her dressed as a dominatrix. You know, normal stuff.

At one point, the conversation turned to the spiritual. At that time, I was far from a spiritual person. I had never had much faith in a God and had lost all faith in my various Gods and Goddesses I had been communicating with for years prior, mostly due to be set in the dark pit of despair that was my mind when I was 19. I was, however, still intrigued by the concept of the paranormal.

Cheryl had a dog. The dog had randomly appeared in the living nook where were sitting and spontaneously started barking at the balcony door. I didn’t know Cheryl even owned a dog, so I was shocked immediately when I heard barking. Cheryl just smiled and started telling me about ‘Caroline.’

Caroline was a tenant that had allegedly killed herself on another floor, but rumors circulating around the resort referenced to her known to be abusive boyfriend actually being responsible for her death. She was a drug addict, which meant her death was swept under the rug and hardly acknowledged by anyone other than those who knew her personally or happened to be present during one of the frequent public altercations between her and her boyfriend.

Cheryl gestured to where the little Yorkie was panting excitedly in front of the balcony and told me that every so often, Caroline would come to her on the balcony, like a full body apparition. She said she would hear her voice and talk to her and expressed no fear at all. Cheryl said she knew that Caroline wasn’t a threat, she was just very sad.

I went home that night thinking nothing more about it other than it was interesting and I could only hope to be as privileged as Cheryl was with her ghostly encounters. I didn’t bother verifying the storyline because I had figured if her death had been ruled a suicide there wouldn’t be much on it to find.

The next night at work, I was set up to bring Cheryl home again but also had made plans with a new coworker who I thought was cute, David, that had taken a part time job on leave from the Navy. He was a good sport about making a pit stop at Cheryl’s and they seemed to get along, well enough that Cheryl invited us up to her apartment again but told us that she had to run to the second floor and feed her friend’s dogs who had gone away for a few weeks. After chatting for a bit, no one felt comfortable staying in her apartment without Cheryl there, so we followed her to the second floor, if not out of curiosity to see more of the building itself that was normally locked to those without key cards.

When we arrived on the second floor, I remember stopping at the end of the hallway where we exited the stairwell and feeling uneasy. This part of the floor seemed much darker than the third floor where we were, and when I looked up, I noticed that there was a light missing at the end of the hall right above a boarded up room at the very end, like something out of a movie. Neither I nor David asked about it, both of us could imagine a million reasons why the door would be boarded, but none of those reasons I thought up correlated with what Cheryl had been telling me the night before. I kept staring at the boarded up door at the end, my eyes scanning over the walls around us. What I saw looked like blood spatters on the wall that had long set in there, but I refused to accept that as truth.

I turned to look at David who had been taking in the scene as I had been. We were both tired. It was well past midnight and from the look on his face I couldn’t read what was going through his mind.Then, everything suddenly shifted.

I couldn’t tell if something had walked past us in the hall or something had happened outside to make the lighting change inside, but the entire hallway seemed to lose the dim lighting it had. It became very cold, briefly, instantly- as soon as it occurred, everything was normal again. I thought I heard someone whispering, quickly. I looked at David again and could tell now that he had experienced everything I had just experienced. I stood there for a moment, my mouth hanging open, all I could come up with to say was,

“You saw all that right?”

David nodded. He knew exactly what I meant. There was no question, but the look on his face wasn’t one of fear. I didn’t even feel fear. What I felt was a sense of sadness and dread so profound and consuming that to this day I don’t have the words to describe it. Like being told you were fired, your lover dumping you, and your whole family dying in a car crash at the same time.

Cheryl finally emerged from the apartment and saw us both standing there. We attempted to describe what we saw to her and Cheryl just cracked a small smile as she was locking up.

“That room down there? Yea that’s where Caroline died,”

David had no knowledge of Caroline. He hadn’t been there prior, he didn’t hear any of the stories that Cheryl had told me about this apparition on the balcony of a girl whose death remained a mystery to many of the tenants. I would explain it to him and tell him what Cheryl had told me the night before, wondering if she had mentioned it in passing knowing what room was going to be at the end of the hall, of which she didn’t alert me to. Maybe she had an agenda to prove she wasn’t insane and to insure I would have my own experience with Caroline.

8 years later, I would look up the name Caroline in conjunction with European Village and found this article that doesn’t seem to give much more than the bizarre way she allegedly killed herself. If you wish to read that article and the bizarre comment from the apartment’s newest tenant, click here

Sound familiar? If you frequent /r/no sleep you may have read a version of this story written under my creativity handle, HereInTheNight.

#ghosts #ghost story #ghost stories #no sleep #creepy pasta #samhain #halloween #paranormal #true ghost stories #paranormal encounter #spooktacular #spooky stories #creepypasta #handmade #handmade jewelry online #paganism #wiccan #witchcraft #ecletic pagan #one of a kind #crystaljewelry #my writing #short story #strange stories

[ashtrayfloors]

1. Saturday was the solstice. I have written too much about the summer solstice and personal anniversaries already. Here, there, everywhere. But god, I am thinking of that summer sixteen years ago. Iowa, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maryland. Wisconsin & Illinois. The How ‘Bout That Tour. Heartbreak & driving in a car with suspended license plates. Were-cats & lesbian ravers. Porch steps in Cincinnati, the hostel in Philly, the cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, that motel room in Pittsburgh. Weed & beer, that motel in Pittsburgh, glow-bowling, my lucky dress, my little accident... All those long-lost lovers and f(r)iends. Sometimes I miss those days, that’s right you heard me... Why is that summer still so vivid? And how much of it, now, is a false memory? I have written so much about that summer, about that year, in ways both fantastical and more true-to-life, that I wonder how many of my memories of it are my “real” memories, and how many are memories of what I’ve written rather than what I actually lived. But what’s that Joan Didion quote? I always had trouble distinguishing between what happened and what merely might have happened, but I remain unconvinced that the distinction, for my purposes, matters.

2. On Sunday, my parents came over, and we had a socially-distanced/with masks Father’s Day cookout in our backyard. It was good.

3. The fireflies are out. So are the neighbors, shooting off fireworks at all hours of the day and night. I love the fireflies. The fireworks freak me out.

4. Random memory I had the other day, so vivid it, for a moment, felt like I was back there: summertime, circa 2000/2001, sitting outside Leroy’s Water Street Coffee in Door County, reading zines, chainsmoking, drinking pinhead gunpowder tea (which I first drank because of the band Pinhead Gunpowder, but then genuinely loved the taste of.) And of course thinking of Door County and Leroy’s made me think of other long-lost friends and lovers. But what doesn’t make me think of that?

5. Thinking of Door County. Thinking of Wisconsin. I’m finally putting out my chapbook Wisconsin Death Trip next month, the one I’ve been working on in some form for nearly four years, now. Thinking about how there are so many more poems I could’ve written for it. I realized I’ll never be done writing about Wisconsin. I’ve lived here, on-and-off, for more of my life than I’ve ever lived in any other state. And though for a good decade and a half I resisted letting it be my home, it became that, anyway. There are many other places that feel like home to me (places I’ve lived, and ones I’ve only visited), but Wisconsin is Home.

6. A couple nights ago, thinking about poetry, I had this thought: the poem is inextricable from the form. Meaning: you can’t paraphrase a poem, not truly; because if you expressed the content in a different way, it would be a different poem. Then I thought that I must have read that line somewhere before, because it seemed too smart for me to have come up with it. I searched through both my blogs for quotes about writing/poetry, and didn’t find that exact quote, or anything even that close to it. Then I Googled it, just to make sure, and again, I didn’t find it. So I guess I did come up with it. But when I Googled it, I came across something similar, in the book Poetry and Mindfulness: Interruption to a Journey by Bryan Walpert:

The various uses to which verse can be put–line breaks, repetition, returns in all of their forms–suggest why we cannot truly paraphrase a poem into what it means, cannot abstract its meaning from the specific way one word leads to another.

&

The meaning of a poem, in other words, is inextricable from its language and its form, and therefore inextricable from the experience of reading it, inextricable from the journey.

7. A short story I wrote in 2003 was included in a digital anthology featuring most of the former members of a certain underground literary organization. I’m not going to name the group, here, because...I have mixed feelings on the whole thing. I chose to be part of it because I want to honor who I was back then, & what I was part of, & because the guy who put the anthology together is still a friend of mine, & so are a handful of other people who are part of it. But I’m not mentioning the anthology anywhere publicly because a couple years ago I had a major falling out with the founder/figurehead of said org, whom I’ll call K. Long story short-ish—he’s always been an antagonistic old crank, but in recent years he started getting even more reactionary and siding with the “free speech means I can say whatever hateful shit I want w/ no consequences!!1!” people, talking shit about “social just warriors,” and also talking shit about people on food stamps or any kind of government assistance. (The government assistance rants especially baffled me, because he’s always talked about being a Working Class Writer. Like, how you gonna be all Working Class Pride and then shit on other working/poor people?!) So after all that happened, I pulled both my stories from the magazine he currently runs, and blocked him on all social media. It was really hard, heartbreaking, because for years he seemed like, while a crank, a good-hearted one, & he was, for a long time, one of the biggest champions of my work. (+ I was bummed to have to pull those stories, because I think they are two of the best stories I’ve ever written, and now no one gets to read them.)

7.5. I just don’t feel comfortable publicly sharing my inclusion in the anthology. For one thing, I’ve come to like some of the big-name authors that group most frequently lambasted. But also after reading the introduction to the new anthology & being reminded of some of the more antagonistic antics of the founding members, especially K., & comparing it with his more recent comments, I realized... He talked a big game about creating an alternative to the mainstream literary establishment, but he wasn’t really challenging the status quo or building anything new so much as he was another angry white male writer, who was bitter because he wasn’t the one making it big.

8. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about “underground” vs. “establishment,” especially when it comes to the arts. I’ve reached this point where I think it’s good to criticize the literary (or other) establishment for valid reasons (i.e., institutionalized racism, misogyny, classism, etc.), but to hate on an author solely because they’ve broken out a bit? Boring. Or even worse, to attack POC, LGBTQ people, women, disabled people, etc., who are like “uh, maybe just don’t call me a slur?” as enemies of free speech and art, and to claim that they’re now the ones upholding the establishment? Fuck off. Where was I going with this? IDK. I don’t think it’s inherently noble to labor in obscurity, but I’m also uninterested in making my art palatable to some mainstream (or even indie) ideal. I wanna make it on my own terms. I wanna make weird, rad art and put it out into the world along with other people’s weird, rad art. And make enough money off of it to help take care of my family, & support my press, & continue to make more art. (Well, ideally, I’d like no one to have to worry about making money at all, but ykwim.)

8.5. A writer acquaintance, the same one I mentioned back in May, who said that what I do with my press, even when I publish myself, isn’t self-publishing...she went on a Twitter rant not too long ago, telling young/emerging writers to never try and connect with anyone in the indie literary community, to just get their MFA & not look back. Now, I get where it stemmed from, because a few more people in the indie lit world have recently been outed as abusive creeps, & also she’s lamented before about not having her MFA. But when a few people politely tried to suggest that getting an MFA isn’t the right path for every writer, she said “getting an MFA is only a waste of time if you already can’t hack it as a writer.” I stayed out of it but I got irked... I mean sure, sometimes I think about getting an MFA in poetry/cross-genre writing, but that would solely be to deepen my craft. Up until I make that decision for certain, and have the means to do so, I’m doing just fine without one. There are so many reasons to not get one! What if your job that pays the bills is in a completely different field than writing, and you’re fine with that? What if you have managed to build a writing/writing-adjacent career without an MFA? Etc. TBH, though I have respect for her, I think I’m done engaging with her via social media. The things she says about self-publishing vs. traditional, MFA vs. non, indie writers vs. establishment writers, etc., make it very clear that she’s got a heavy case of imposter syndrome which she then tries to push off onto everyone else.

8.75. & yeah, it sucks every time someone in the indie lit community turns out to be a creep or rapist or a abuser or nazi or TERF or... But there are plenty of all those sorts of assholes in the literary establishment, too (if not more). There are shitty people in every group or scene. That doesn’t mean you abandon it altogether, though. Like, let’s weed out the assholes and abusers and build something even better!

9. Blah blah blah. Sorry for the rants & ramblings. I don’t have anyone to discuss this stuff with IRL right now, so I scribble it all on my sideblog where, like, two people read it. Anyway. Funny side note about fallings-out and the anthology: the piece F. (the guy who put it together) initially selected for it was a piece I’d written about the Great Year of 2004, about visiting Iowa with “Maggie” (aka whoever, aka my ex-bestie.) I asked him not to use that one,  because... It’s not that I think she’d see it, and even if she did so what? She already hates me. No, I asked him not to publish it because I’ve put enough writing about her out into the world already. Probably more than about any other old friend, excepting maybe “Filia,” and definitely more than I’ve written about any old flame. And I don’t wanna laud or lament her in my writing anymore. Of course I’ll still write about her. (Here I am, doing it now). But maybe I don’t wanna do it so publicly anymore.

10. But yeah. I’ve been thinking about old friends, what else is new? Thinking about F., who put the anthology together, and how it’s been 17 years that I’ve known him, nearly 17 years since we went on tour with the Perpetual Motion Roadshow. And earlier today, I was talking to someone about my friend A., & said that I’d known her for 20 years, & they said: “You have such a lot of deep connections with people.” And I guess I do. All these people I’ve known for somewhere between 5 to 20 years (or even more, in some cases). And guess what? 90% of them are people I met through zines and/or underground literature, punk and/or underground music, activist and/or arts communities. And those deep connections mean so much more to me than a degree or a publishing deal with a major press. Not that having those things wouldn’t be nice, too, but that I’d rather have the deep, long-lasting connections.

10.5. Which makes me think of things I’ve written in the past, about how many friends I’ve made through zines / all the action they’ve gotten me; about how my zines are basically just glorified personals ads. Which also makes me think about this patch, which I stumbled across a few months ago, and desperately need, but the shop is on hiatus right now, bummer.

11. I’ve also been thinking about my old pal J.P. Since having that techno music dream, I’ve been listening to a lot of Chemical Brothers, and I remembered how J.P. (who makes techno/electronic music) & “Beagan” & I used to have this inside ‘joke’ based on “Elektrobank.” One of us would say: “Who is this doin’ this...” And the other two would reply: “...synthetic type of alphabetapsychedelicfunkit?” And realizing I’ve known J.P. for 17 years, too. We’ve drifted out of each other’s lives for years at a time, but always, eventually, reconnected.

11.5. J.P. & I first met when we were both in our drunken slut phases, & yet we managed to have a totally platonic relationship. Well, almost totally platonic. We drunkenly made out once & then were mutually like: “That was...weird. Let’s not do that again, hey?”

12. It’s just. Friends like Maggie, who I thought I’d be riding side-by-side with for the long haul, they took themselves outta my life for good. Friends like J.P. & F. & A. & so many others...we’ve had disagreements, we’ve drifted apart for years at a time, but we always reconcile and reconnect, and I consider them true friends at this point. I guess you never know who’s a ride-or-die, do you?

(Lucky) 13. Totally unrelated thing: My mohawk is getting unwieldy & I’m already sick of it. I’m considering either just shaving my head entirely or leaving bangs / “sideburns” & doing the Chelsea fringe thing for the first time in 10.5 years. (Oh fuck, now that I’m thinking about a Chelsea cut I’m about to go deeply down a (ANTI-RACIST, OBVS) skinhead-nostalgia rabbit hole.)

#theonceovertwice #pls no reblobs // #journal entry #list #life #dear livejournal #nostalgia #summer #solstice #memory #door county #wisconsin #poetry #writing #community #old friends #old flames #zine life #ratticus aka maggie #lissa aka beagan #ali aka filia #haircuts #abuse cw? #rape cw? #quotations #joan didion #bryan walpert #long reads #in which i rant #who is this doin this synthetic type of alphabetapsychedelicfunkit?

[souoes]

      ⌜ KIM TAEHYUNG  |  HE/HIM ⌟  ——  SIWON RYU is a TWENTY FOUR year old DEMI MALE  .  they are located in DISTRICT FOUR where they are employed as an ESCORT  .  they are known to be AFFABLE & INTUITIVE  ,  but they can also be GULLIBLE & DUPLICITOUS  .   (  popped bubblegum  ,  glowing under the sun  ,  purple-pink skylines  ,  silk shirts left unbuttoned  ) 

heyo  !  i’m deni  ,  she/her pronouns in the gmt+9 section of the world  .  i can’t keep an aesthetic and i use too many em dashes  .  below is one of the characters i’m bringing  ,  SIWON  ,  my favorite chaotic sunflower  .  i have a habit of updating  ,  adding and changing as i go  .  apologies in advance for how messy all this is  .  looking forward to writing with you  <3  !

🌹  𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 .

➤  full name.  siwon ryu ➤  date of birth.  january 29th ➤  hometown.  chicago  ,  illinois ➤  gender.  cis male ➤  sexual attraction.  pansexual ➤  romantic attraction.  pansexual ➤  occupations.  escort  ,  app developer  ,  network manager at an internet cafe  ➤  wants.  family  ,  power ➤  fears.  imprisonment  ,  humiliation

     universal facts.  scarfs down bean burritos like they’re gonna disappear  ,  looks as comfortable in a dark  ,  dirty alley as he does standing under all those warm lights in the velvet plush speakeasy  .  pockets full of candy and a lollipop between his lips  .  likes cheap beer and cigarettes  ,  fast talking and smooth smiles  .  gets up when the sun goes down  .  who knows if he ever gets a full night’s sleep  ,  but you can find him taking a nap just about anywhere  .  seems to live for the dark hours and stays busy as a bee  ,  feels the rain on his skin  ,  plays with matches  .   spray paints boobs on the sides of government buildings and dicks on malls  .  can do crazy math in his head and spot fake bills with incredible accuracy  .  can barely stand to sit still  ,  always moving except when there’s a computer screen or an aquarium in front of him  .  gets addicted to things so easily it’s scary  —  people  ,  food  ,  liquor  ,  feelings  .  craves that intimacy  ,  craves that closeness  .  catches extra cash on the side by fixing up broken-down machines and can figure his way around a motor with a bit of elbow grease  .  fucking loves nature dude  —  takes care of plants and reptiles in his home  .  would die for snakes and lets them drape over him  ,  claims they give the best hugs  .  has the best collection of vintage games and tech  .  punk ass wannabe  .

      personality.  moody  ,  sometimes downright irritable  .  but when he’s on he’s on ---  could talk to a brick wall  .  holds himself with all the confidence of the sun and his smile burns just as bright  .  there’s this lazy intensity to everything he does  .  like  ,  pretends he super cares but also doesn’t  ?  or pretends he cares so much but in reality couldn’t give a shit  .  affable  ,  easy to get along with on a surface level  ,  and he’s curious enough to keep any conversation going with questions and enthusiastic energy  .  mood changes on a dime  ,  goes from grinning like a maniac to eerily calm in a snap of your fingers  .  intuitive and instinctive  ,  listens to and follows his gut  .  trusts the energy in the air more than anyone’s word  .  comes off as thoughtless but it actually very cautious  .  impulsive doesn’t mean brainless  .  sniffs out bad situation fast and decides on a dime if he needs to run or face it  .  go with the flow kind of attitude  .  doesn’t take things personally  .  nice  but trusting him’s an iffy situation  .  greedy  —  wants everything and anything  .

      appearance.   stands around 5′11  .  broad shoulders  ,  slim hips  .  floppy  ,  messy hair and glowing skin  .  half legs and half eyelashes  .  wears a small lip ring and has several miniature tattoos on his body  .  dresses anywhere between a washed up rockstar  and your cool grandpa in the ‘40s  .  his closet’s a chaotic mix of anything he could thrift or patch together  .  most of the time  ,  he’s sporting loose pants  ,  a vintage blouse  ,  a jacket or blazer and comfortable loafers  .  loud colors and prints alongside all black fits  .  believes in reinvention  .  kind of swims in his clothing because most of its’ two or three sizes too big  .  only wears skinny jeans when he wants something  .  shimmies into a suit with a snap of his fingers  .  keeps all that hair back with a bandana or a headband  ,  silver bracelets on his wrist  .  nothing in his closet’s technically new and he loves looking for a bargain steal ——or simply just a steal  .  sometimes he’s jimi hendrix and other times he’s versace  .    

#nostraintro #. 𝐒𝐈𝐖𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐘𝐔 ➤ DEVELOPMENT .

[nikachuwrites]

— && guests may mistake me as ( florence pugh ), but really i am ( charlotte carter + cis-female + she/her/hers  ) and my DOB is ( 01/17/1997 ). i am a ( first year law student & paralegal ) and would like to stay in suite ( 311 ). i won’t be much of a bother because i am ( + determined, hardworking, passionate ), but i can also be ( - obstinate , headstrong, competitive ) at times. personally, i like to ( ride horseback, learn languages and cooking ) when i have the time to relax, and my favorite snack is ( zebra cakes ) to have in my suite. thank you for checking in!

B A C K S T O R Y 

charlotte marie cater, born january seventeenth, is the only daughter and youngest of steven and margaret carter’s three children: avery, sawyer and dalton. she was born and raised in rosa, oklahoma--but she sure as hell didn’t want to say there for life. 

from a young age, the woman was a spitfire. she was loud, she was determined, and when she set her mind to something--there was no going back. come hell or highwater--she’d achieve her goal. her mother had always been worried about her tenacity--fearing it’d get her into trouble one day or that she’d alienate the people she needed in her life. you see, her mother was a bleeding heart kind of woman, someone who put feelings and others before herself. charlotte--well, charlotte grew up with three boys who didn’t give a hoot nor a holler about her gender or age, if they wanted a fight, they were going to get a fight. softness did not help her cause, ripping her heart open to people would not help her win. 

that wasn’t to say she did not love her brothers. of course she did--she had no qualms with any of her family. they were kind, caring folk who loved their children with their entire heart and then some. did they make mistakes? sure. but who didn’t? charlotte _adored her parents, _and she couldn’t imagine a family better than her own.

it was a different story for her hometown, though. rosa was small, quaint--two things charlotte was not. ever since she was young, she craved pounding hard concrete instead of soft gravel and running up and down busy boulevards instead of two lane country roads. rosa was not where her spirit was fulfilled--instead, her eyes were set on the city of chicago. new york was too popular, but chicago? chicago was her dream--life was more in a city like that. she thought to herself. so that was her goal--get out of rosa, whatever means necessary. 

rosa, however, had a different plan. charlotte, while headstrong, was also not immune to the pressures of high school and the desire to be queen bee. perhaps more arrogant than a fourteen year should have been, she quickly found her way to securing a spot on the varsity cheerleading team and into the hearts of all those around her. well, into their hearts might have been more of a metaphor than anything else. with great power comes great responsibility--and since the woman hadn’t seen any comic book movies, that lesson had alluded the blonde. at best, she was bossy and controlling--and worst, she could be down right manipulative. but high school had a way of bringing out the extremes in its students--and that didn’t mean the woman didn’t have a soft spot.

enter trevor haines, star quarterback and everything charlotte could want in a guy. charming, good looking, funny, sweet--instantly, she fell head over heels. perfect high school love story. star quarterback + head cheerleader = high school sweethearts, the end. her parents loved him, her brothers adored him (thanks to that state championship, heyo) and the town could think of nothing better than a sweet, perfect, happily ever after. roll credits, cue the sappy cute love song, right?

well...it looks like their might be a mid credit scene. 

charlotte loved trevor--truly, absolutely, and truth be told, he was the only one she ever let her guard down for. but charlotte craved control, enjoyed being the one in charge of her life and...trevor had other plans. the town had other plans. they were supposed to get married, have babies and live in rosa forever. she would be another line in however many generations and her life would be nothing more than...average. 

the thought scared her more than her worst nightmares, so one early summer--out of the blue to everyone around her--she packed her bags and moved to chicago. truth be told, she had been accepted to the University of Illinois Chicago months earlier, but she had hid the acceptance as it was the playoffs and she didn’t want to distract trevor--nor did she want to think about what might happen if she took the acceptance. but one cool, february day it had hit her that her life would be in neutral if she didn’t make a choice soon and secretly, quietly, she accepted the offer and then, a few months later, she was on the road with little more than her backpack and a suitcase full of her favorite clothes. she said goodbye to no one, thinking that if she disappeared, they’d forget about her soon enough and go back to their lives in the town. 

while in school, she learned she had a passion for debate and enjoyed to argue her points until the cows came home. a professor had taken her aside one day, expressing that she had noticed her fiery attitude in the course and suggested legal studies as a major. the idea stuck and soon charlotte could think of nothing else than getting up in front of that courtroom and proving to a jury that she--and her client--was right and everyone else was wrong. of course, she chose criminal law as her concentration, because, in the immortal words of elle woods, “i’ll take the hard one--i like a challenge”

charlotte still think about trevor and rosa from time to time--she misses her family and wants to go back and see them someday. as she’s grown farther from her high school self, she realizes her attitude wouldn’t get her far in life and has worked hard to change who she was to be a better human. she thinks that if she was a lawyer, well then maybe she could atone for some of her...more cruel days of past.

F A S T  F A C T S

charlotte loves to horseback ride--in fact, when she had a bad day, you could catch her riding her horse sweet cheeks for miles until she could feel the sadness no longer. 

she is also a pretty good cook, thanks to her momma. if charlotte had one hero, it’d be her. she would always admire the way her mother loved everyone so fully--in a way that charlotte never could growing up. 

she can quote legally blonde by heart--yes, she can say the whole courtroom scene in full--and knows all the songs in the musical. and it is her goal to become the best dressed lawyer in the court--though her signature color is certainly not pink (it’s marble--and yes, for her, it is a color thank you)

growing up with three boys meant that charlotte--for all her feminine tendencies and appreciation--can brawl with the best of them. she just never does because she has learned to use her words as her weapon--though she certainly has toned it down quite a bit since then. 

her favorite movie is love actually and no, she will not be taking any questions at this time. 

P L O T S 

Friends

Enemies

Flings, New Flames, etc. 

Squad goals

Mother-like friend

Sister/brother-like friend

Brothers (like, real brothers)

Literally, i am bad at lots so lets’ brainstorm together. 

#[[just a small town girl; ft. charlotte]]

[bloodlinevalentine]

The Blessed Unrest

Decided to cross-post my little ohmtoonz ghost thing here :)

Chapter 1: Live Like You’re Still Alive

Luke sighs and crosses his arms, leaning forward onto the rusted rails in front of him. Behind him is a set of glass sliding doors and a large, empty room. Blank, golden brown eyes scanned the rows of buildings, looking out over the city. It seems that's all he can do now: spectate. He's been up there for longer than he can keep count for, and he can't seem to get down. He felt like a goldfish in a small bowl, stuck watching the humans go about their daily lives.

And, perhaps it was a bit of a pretty fish bowl. The balcony he'd been sitting on was pretty high up, and sprawled before him laid all that Chicago, Illinois had to offer. Luke is, by far, not the most observant person, but by now he's seen all there is to see. During the day, the nearby streets were a blur of cars speeding by and the ant-like figures of people making way down the sidewalks. From how high up he was, he couldn't even see the fashionably large coats and cars that dominated during this time of year due to the climate, just the ant-like figures moving around below him. The summer sun's overpowering rays were shrouded by the thick, grey winter clouds.

During the nights, nearly all the people down below cleared out the streets and all that was left was the chilled breeze against tall glass towers. Checkered light dotted buildings where janitorial crews remained busy decorated the dark sky, while neon signs advertised hotels and bars open late. A pale yellow glow illuminated the once busy roads, reflecting in the semi-melted snow. Muddied and marred crystals splashed onto the curb as the occasional car crept past. It served as a reminder that in a city as big and populated as Chicago, it was never completely quiet. Even in the darkest hour there was always someone on their way home from a late shift, someone walking across a parkway to meet another, someone smoking out on a porch.

All things considered, it actually took him a long while to realize he was dead. But once the signs make themselves known, he only wonders how he didn't figure it out sooner.

It starts with a lady in a nearby apartment complex taking her dog out for a piss. She has her brown hair lazily tied back and his leash loosely in her hands. The dog waddles around for a moment before he finds a grassy corner to go in, and it makes Luke think about how long it's been since he himself went. Then he remembers the last time he's slept, or eaten, or even simply spoken to another person. It's an an awful feeling, realizing your dead, especially when you have to be alive and conscious for it. Well, conscious. And in his many attempts to get somewhere, anywhere but this balcony, he's mostly just expanded his repertoire of different ways to give up. People came and went, but no one stuck around long, or even acknowledged him.

As he sat and watched the world pass him by, Luke had to wonder why. Why was he just sitting here? What exactly was stopping him from getting down from this accursed ledge? And after a quick moment of consideration, he decided it was nothing. He was leaving.

Or, so he tried. But anytime he attempted to pass from the balcony and into the room behind him, this awful heat in his chest would start up and kick into high gear, filling up the inside of him until it felt like he was drowning in it. The further it went, the worse it would get until it overwhelms his ability to move and he's forced back onto the ledge to relieve it. After a few failed attempts, he dejectedly gave up.

He'd even tried jumping as a means of escape, but it was only once. In an angry fit he'd narrowed his eyes at the ground below, and with a not even a single thought, leaned over the rail and let the sky have him. It didn't work, of course, a fact for which Luke didn't know if he should be happy about or not. He'd flipped through the air once, twice, and three times before he was speeding face first to the ground. It was the most terrifying moment, plummeting to the concrete unnoticed by any people below. Tears from the wind and perhaps something Luke doesn't think about blur his vision pretty strongly, but he can still see himself nearing the ground. At the last possible moment, when it seems the pavement is just grazing his skin, he blacks out. When he wakes up, he's back on the ledge like before, the memory of what feels like years before the only thing occupying his brain.

Luke felt so alone, even though he often found himself in the company of another lonesome stranger. Sometimes people would come out when they rented the party room behind him, for whatever reasons, and bring their odd conversations with them. He'd hear people sigh in defeat at a love not reciprocated while others partied their hearts out inside, or be forced to listen in as people complained about their situations at work or school, oblivious of his own problem.

One time, a guy even came out talking to himself and leaving convenient gaps for Luke to give his opinion, even though the man couldn't have known he was there. He never minded when people came outside, even if they seemed to ignore him or whine about problems that paled in comparison to his own. When you're clearly a ghost, any company is good company.

So, a little while later, Luke isn't too surprised to see a man enter the party room and cross over to the balcony. He wordlessly slides the glass door and step out onto the ledge, staring over at the people below. There is nothing going on in the building, so he must be scouting the area for a party later. However, when the guy's foot makes contact with the balcony Luke hears a snap, like the sound a rubber band when it smacks into your hand. He feels something in his chest reel, the way you would imagine a bullet tearing through your skin, shredding muscles and sensitive tissue until it finally drags its weight out of you. The sensation makes him whip his head back up in alarm.

The man looked as if he was hastily dressed, shiny brown tresses a mess around his head and tattered clothes free in the wind. His face is tense and slightly angry, but if you look past that, he's pretty attractive. Although, he has a sort of rushed air about him, as though a man on a mission.

Luke watches the guy scan the area, ghosting over him like everyone else. He raises a hand to his chest to soothe the odd pain and looks back over the edge to continue his miserable mulling.

It's not until the man takes a particularly sharp inhale that Luke looks over at him again, and this time, soft, hazel eyes are staring directly at him with a frightened intensity. It seems to take the guy a minute, during which he looks as though he wants to say something, but when he realizes what is so wrong he gasps for real. A pale hand reaches out towards the door handle, swiping and missing a few times before he finally gets a grip.

Luke realizes in one elated sweep that the man knows he's there--is looking at him--which he says as much as he can in a gasp of his own. He leaps to his feet, and other pales at his reaction, finally gaining his bearings and yanking the door open just wide enough to fit his body through before he throws himself into the room. He doesn't bother with a fleeting glance or even the slightest pause, just slams the door shut so hard the glass rattles in it's frame.

Not about to let his only chance of getting out of his hell escape, Luke reaches for the handle himself, only to phase through it and the door in turn. That feeling makes everything left in his body run cold and rush hot all at the same time. 'Now that has never happened before,' he thinks, and had to take a moment to appreciate the effortlessness of it, but that time quickly passes. Before, he's never been able to phase through anything else, but before he's never run into anyone who could see him. He's got to catch that person.

"I can't see you!" The guy shouts over his shoulder and makes a break for the stairs rather than the obviously slow elevator. Luke wants to yell something back about the absurdity of that statement, but finds himself consumed with laughter instead. In no way disturbed by Luke's amusement, he rounds a corner at the end of the first set.

"Why are you running from me?" Luke yells back when he gains his composure. He's a little surprised by the volume of his voice, but then again it has been who-knows-how-long since the last time he'd actually spoken out loud to someone. The other doesn't look like he cares about his inquiry, though, and instead increases his speed down the steps. Luke doesn't remember exactly how tall the building is, but he knows there's many more at this rate.

That thought, along with the fact that he's falling behind in their chase makes him jump to close the distance, almost losing his footing at the landing because when he reaches out for the handrail, his fingers glide right through it. When he finally rights himself, he picks up the pace as well to catch up.

Seemingly inspired by his show of diligence, the boy attempts a leap of his own, but misses a step at the bottom and goes down hard. With a departing yelp, he tumbles down the last few steps and smacks into the wall signaling the turn with all of his momentum. The fall looks painful as anything Luke has ever seen, and all the hopeful mirth drains from his face; in its wake is trickle by agonizing trickle of mortification.

"Holy shit, are you alright?" He slows to a stop a few paces away, watching in silent guilt as the guy examines himself. There is no blood, at least none that he can see, but there is definitely some major bruising and perhaps some swelling that is soon to come. When he decides nothing too incapacitating is amiss, he winces to sitting position and levels a reluctant gaze at Luke.

"I..." he makes to answer Luke's question, but pauses briefly, "No, I--uh--that was totally my fault." He directs his vision to the floor with a dejected gaze.

"Why were you running away from me anyway?" Luke prods carefully, assessing his companion's face as he processes the question.

"Listen man," he starts after a moment, obviously not inclined to answer the second question, "I know this is hard to hear, and it probably doesn't even make sense, but you... you're dead now." He looks up at Luke again, watching his reaction closely.

"Well I think I've realized that by now." He sighs and moves to sit as well and hopefully disarm the guarded look on the other man's face.

The guy just screws his eyes shut and tilts his head in a pained nod, bringing a hand to his head once again. "Fuck," he curses as he draws the hand back down into his lap, and Luke feels a pang of guilt through himself again.

"I didn't kill myself though." Luke blurts into the silence. He'd actually never thought that completely, but as the words come out of his mouth, he feels assured that they're true. He doesn't even need the memories of his life to understand that the pure terror he felt when he'd jumped after already being dead all that time was too unfamiliar to have been how he died in the first place.

The guy opens his eyes at the sound of Luke's voice, and nods lightly once more. "Yeah, I can tell. You looked more like a murder anyway."

Luke's eyebrows fall at the odd words, and the man seems to mistake his silence as balking at the statement. "Look, right here is not the best spot for this. We can go to my place and I can explain it better, okay?"

Luke gives the guy an assessing look as he thinks it over. He's wearing grey hoodie, ripped and frayed at the wrists and a scruffy pair of no doubt unintentionally distressed blue jeans. His bedraggled shoes were the most worn of all though, complete with a belt of duct tape around the toe painted white in a semblance of normality. Truly, they looked as though they were being held together by sheer willpower more so than any of its threads.

But then he also watches the tension in the guy's expression unwind, almost as if just the idea of being at home makes him more comfortable. Well, it wasn't like he had any reason to distrust the only person who'd even seen him in weeks, and he's already dead, so what's the worst that could happen?

"Sure, sounds good." He nods and they both rise and head down that last few flights of stairs.

"I'm Luke, by the way." he supplies as they step out into the sunshine, but the guy doesn't react at all. At first Luke thought it to be a bit rude, but as people look and even speak through him, he realizes that he's being ignored because no one can see him. Even he can conclude that standing around talking to no one is pretty strange. But as he observes the crowd a bit more, he realizes that people are naturally giving them a wide berth. It was almost as if the other people could tell he was different, not knowing anything about him. Luke made a mental note to ask about it later.

[][[][][][]][]

The guy doesn't stop until they reach an apartment complex that Luke wouldn't give a second glance at if he was still alive. Although, a muted grey building with white trimming and a graffiti collage on the alley-side wall isn't much to blink at for most people anyway. They turn down a path leading to more buildings in similar condition, and Luke frowns. This can't be where he lives, can it?

Luke himself had never been especially well off, but he would never consider his family poor growing up either. They fit more snugly into the upper middle-class sector. He did believe he knew what poor looked like though, and despite his clothes, he refused to believe that this man lived in such bad conditions. He must have been taking a shortcut.

Only now, muddy tennis shoes with no recognizable brand were stomping up cement steps leading up to the second floor and Luke's eyebrows knit together as he follows.

"Sorry about earlier" he speaks up as the near the doors, and at first, Luke isn't sure if he's talking about running away or ignoring him until he continues, "But I'm sure you understand why I can't really talk to you in public. My name's Ryan." He throws Luke an exasperated smile over his shoulder as he routinely walks over to a door near the end of the corridor and pulls out a pristine silver key from his jacket pocket. The wooden door has a worn and chipped plastic address on the front, characters reading 6A bolted haphazardly to it. Is this really where Ryan lives?

"And sorry about this too, but it's gonna be a bit messy inside," Ryan grins apologetically, wrestling they key into the dubious looking lock and working it open with slight difficulty. When the old, creaky metal finally gives, he pushes the door open and lets them both in.

The interior really is a mess, but Luke gets the feeling that isn't entirely Ryan's fault. Chalky, inconsistent manila walls are losing more than just their paint in the corners, and white carpeting is always a bad idea. But aside from those things, the room's mostly organized state convinces Luke that Ryan is a clean oriented person. He probably didn't even make those stains on the floor.

"It's not that bad." Is his leisure reply. Ryan reaches for a light switch that Luke half expects to flicker and blink into life, it would go with the rest of the working in this place.

Except the light just comes on, no humming or flickering included, prompting Ryan to plop onto the gently loved sofa and dig around for something underneath one of the cushions. He pulls a laptop out as if withdrawing it from a storage, and Luke raises an eyebrow when expectant eyes turn up towards him.

"You can start by just telling me anything you remember, as far back as you can go." He lifts a hand and drops it onto the back of the couch, and Luke stills at the smile he receives.

It occurs to him that Ryan really is trying his best here, and he gets the feeling that it isn't his first time of him having to go through this with someone. He looks tired and a little defeated, but undeniably means well by all this.

"I don't remember a lot," He confesses reluctantly, but when Ryan's look of support never wavers, he goes back as far as he deems relevant.

"I was at a party," Luke begins, and as he speaks the memories come back a little, "It was for me, At least I think it was... No I'm sure, I'm pretty sure I had done something, or gotten something. It definitely wasn't a birthday party." He can hear the soft taps of Ryan typing on his laptop as well.

"Maybe a graduation or something?" Ryan pipes and pauses the ticking of his note taking to level Luke with a curious glance.

"No but, similar..." Ryan nods and types some more, but Luke feels and odd sensation of confusion rise in his chest. It was as though the memories of that night had just been erased from his mind. "I remember a fight-- as in, I'm a boxer, so maybe it had to do with that."

He waits a moment for Ryan to asses and decide what he want to write, and eventually receives a nod,"Okay, you can go on," he encourages as he finishes typing, and Luke continues.

"There was a shit-ton of people there. I'm talking rooms all the way down the corridor full of people. I'm sure there was no way for me to know them all, and there were so many were people I hadn't seen in a while. Everyone was constantly taking pictures. And, for some reason I remember something about wild bananas." Luke's face contorts from introspection to back into confusion as his brain conjures up the hazy images.

"Sounds like an interesting party." Ryan chuckles as he types, flashing him a quick look of disapproval, but a good 'your-friends-are-weird-people' kind of disapproval. Luke would laugh lightly at the situation too, but a sobering thought arises.

"But, I remember some other stuff too." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I remember standing by the door were you found me. I think I got into an argument with someone, or something like it. I was so angry and..." Sad?

Luke pauses with the word on the tip of his tongue, almost tasting it, but something about it wasn't right. And suddenly, he is filled with the sensation of familiarity. The most vivid memory so far: he can feel the phantom flurry of emotions from that night wash over him again like a wave, and they go far beyond sadness. Betrayed. His brain supplies with another hazy image: raised voices, the goosebumps left behind from a feral yell, and the only emotion that reaches deeper than anger. He had been deeply, deeply betrayed.

"Luke?" Ryan asks his silence, leaning to enter his field of view. Luke just shakes his head.

"Then, I stepped outside for some air, because I was just getting angrier and angrier. I slammed the door behind myself before I was pushed over the edge. I don't think I actually saw anyone out there, I didn't even think to check, really. But suddenly there was nothing but wind and sky around me, and I'm positive I didn't just walk off."

When Luke looks over, Ryan still has not continued clacking away at his keys. Instead, his eyes remain openly trained on Luke, hands slack at his sides. He has this expression on his face that's not quite legible, but Luke decides he doesn't like the way it makes him feel.

"After that it was just me up on that balcony for the longest until you showed." Finally, after a bit more hesitation, Ryan begins typing again.

"Any idea how long?" he asks quietly, and Luke meets his gaze as he thinks.

"A month, maybe two?" he hazards a guess, "It got pretty hard to keep track."

"That's okay," Ryan hums lightly and looks up at him, stalling the movement of his hands, "Time goes by a little funny when you're dead."

The words don't sit too nicely with Luke, but he doesn't say anything in retaliation. It really is going to take some getting used to it for him to easily joke about this. I mean, he was dead for god's sake. Instead of voicing this this thought though, he sits quietly as Ryan begins looking for anything online surrounding his death.

"Hey, I think I found something." He speaks up, after a while. "It says here that you were at a party a friend was hosting for you." Ryan pauses as though the statement is unfinished, and appears to read over it a few times before continuing. "And, that you won a UFC Championship against the former champion. It was big, huge even, televised apparently." He says in disbelief, and the words draw a gasp from Luke's lips.

Ah yes, that sure jogs the memory. It was the biggest event of his career, and it was even better when he won. How had he forgotten! Now, he didn't even have to guess at how so many people he barely spoke to somehow arrived at the party now. If he won something that huge, Jon was probably hosting the after-party, and you could bet on the fact that Evan was on the VIP list. And these days, if Evan was doing anything, his entourage was quick to follow in a mess of plus-ones and questionable invitations.

"It says that it was a tremendous party turned tragic when you committed suicide. There were no eyewitnesses in the vicinity, but no one else was believed to be there when you jumped off the balcony. It made the news."

"I didn't commit suicide," Luke's frown deepened, and he started pacing again, "I was murdered."

Ryan nods but doesn't say anything else, eyes scanning his laptop screen a few more times before he closes it and looks up a Luke.

"Wait. If you could have just looked it up, why did you ask me?" He laughs a little, but it feels empty, especially when Ryan just levels him with a admonishing look.

"I know you didn't commit suicide Luke, but the police don't, and that is a big issue for us. Right now, the best thing you could do for yourself is try to remember as much as you can." After he says this, his eyes soften and a shy smile graces his features. "But on the other hand, whoever pushed you might be a little easier to find since it's been so long. They've likely stopped being careful and keeping away from suspicious areas, thinking they've gotten away with this. I think that if we really work at it, we'll be able to find the bastard who did this to you." He giggles lightly, and Luke can't keep the small grin off his face.

He tames it though and nods, settling himself to the sound of Ryan's confidence. As much as he hates struggling to remember his own damn life, he must say that he hates being dead even more. If anything, he was stoked just to be away from that ledge and with someone who could see him, if if the guy might just be crazy for it.

"Thanks, man." He says with as much genuinity as he can muster, and his faith is only strengthened by Ryan's winning smile.

Perhaps this whole being dead thing could work out for him.

#thanks for reading #fanfics #ohmtoonz #blood on paper #ghosts #ohm being a general good human #the usual #ohmwrecker #cartoonz

[hennyjolzen]

by PAM GROSSMAN May 30, 2019

Pam Grossman is the author of Waking the Witch: Reflections on Women, Magic, and Power.

Witches have always walked among us, populating societies and storyscapes across the globe for thousands of years. From Circe to Hermione, from Morgan le Fay to Marie Laveau, the witch has long existed in the tales we tell about ladies with strange powers that can harm or heal. And although people of all genders have been considered witches, it is a word that is now usually associated with women.

Throughout most of history, she has been someone to fear, an uncanny Other who threatens our safety or manipulates reality for her own mercurial purposes. She’s a pariah, a persona non grata, a bogeywoman to defeat and discard. Though she has often been deemed a destructive entity, in actuality a witchy woman has historically been far more susceptible to attack than an inflictor of violence herself. As with other “terrifying” outsiders, she occupies a paradoxical role in cultural consciousness as both vicious aggressor and vulnerable prey.

Over the past 150 years or so, however, the witch has done another magic trick, by turning from a fright into a figure of inspiration. She is now as likely to be the heroine of your favorite TV show as she is its villain. She might show up in the form of your Wiccan coworker, or the beloved musician who gives off a sorceress vibe in videos or onstage.

There is also a chance that she is you, and that “witch” is an identity you have taken upon yourself for any number of reasons — heartfelt or flippant, public or private.

Today, more women than ever are choosing the way of the witch, whether literally or symbolically. They’re floating down catwalks and sidewalks in gauzy black clothing and adorning themselves with Pinterest-worthy pentagrams and crystals. They’re filling up movie theaters to watch witchy films, and gathering in back rooms and backyards to do rituals, consult tarot cards and set life-altering intentions. They’re marching in the streets with HEX THE PATRIARCHY placards and casting spells each month to try to constrain the commander-in-chief. Year after year, articles keep proclaiming, “It’s the Season of the Witch!” as journalists try to wrap their heads around the mushrooming witch “trend.”

And all of this begs the question: Why?

Why do witches matter? Why are they seemingly everywhere right now? What, exactly, are they? (And why the hell won’t they go away?)

I get asked such things over and over, and you would think that after a lifetime of studying and writing about witches, as well as hosting a witch-themed podcast and being a practitioner of witchcraft myself, my answers would be succinct.

In fact, I find that the more I work with the witch, the more complex she becomes. Hers is a slippery spirit: try to pin her down, and she’ll only recede further into the deep, dark wood.

I do know this for sure though: show me your witches, and I’ll show you your feelings about women. The fact that the resurgence of feminism and the popularity of the witch are ascending at the same time is no coincidence: the two are reflections of each other.

That said, this current Witch Wave is nothing new. I was a teen in the 1990s, the decade that brought us such pop-occulture as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed and The Craft, not to mention riot grrrls and third-wave feminists who taught me that female power could come in a variety of colors and sexualities. I learned that women could lead a revolution while wearing lipstick and combat boots — and sometimes even a cloak.

But my own witchly awakening came at an even earlier age.

Morganville, New Jersey, where I was raised, was a solidly suburban town, but it retained enough natural land features back then to still feel a little bit scruffy in spots. We had a small patch of woods in our backyard that abutted a horse farm, and the two were separated by a wisp of running water that we could cross via a plank of wood. In one corner of the yard, a giant puddle would form whenever it rained, surrounded by a border of ferns. My older sister, Emily, and I called this spot our Magical Place. That it would vanish and then reappear only added to its mystery. It was a portal to the unknown.

These woods are where I first remember doing magic — entering that state of deep play where imaginative action becomes reality. I would spend hours out there, creating rituals with rocks and sticks, drawing secret symbols in the dirt, losing all track of time. It was a space that felt holy and wild, yet still strangely safe.

As we age, we’re supposed to stop filling our heads with such “nonsense.” Unicorns are to be traded in for Barbie dolls (though both are mythical creatures, to be sure). We lose our tooth fairies, walk away from our wizards. Dragons get slain on the altar of youth.

Most kids grow out of their “magic phase.” I grew further into mine.

My grandma Trudy was a librarian at the West Long Branch Library, which meant I got to spend many an afternoon lurking between the 001.9 and 135 Dewey decimal–sections, reading about Bigfoot and dream interpretation and Nostradamus. I spent countless hours in my room, learning about witches and goddesses, and I loved anything by authors like George MacDonald, Roald Dahl, and Michael Ende — writers fluent in the language of enchantment. Books were my broomstick. They allowed me to fly to other realms where anything was possible.

Though fictional witches were my first guides, I soon discovered that magic was something real people could do. I started frequenting new age shops and experimenting with mass-market paperback spell books from the mall. I was raised Jewish but found myself attracted to belief systems that felt more individualized and mystical and that fully honored the feminine. Eventually I found my way to modern Paganism, a self-directed spiritual path that sustains me to this day. I’m not unique in this trajectory of pivoting away from organized religion and toward something more personal: as of September 2017, more than a quarter of U.S. adults — 27% — now say that they think of themselves as spiritual but not religious, according to Pew Research Center.

Now, I identify both as a witch and with the archetype of the witch overall, and I use the term fluidly. At any given time, I might use the word witch to signify my spiritual beliefs, my supernatural interests or my role as an unapologetically complex, dynamic female in a world that prefers its women to be smiling and still. I use it with equal parts sincerity and salt: with a bow to a rich and often painful history of worldwide witchcraft, and a wink to other members of our not-so-secret society of people who fight from the fringes for the liberty to be our weirdest and most wondrous selves. Magic is made in the margins.

To be clear: you don’t have to practice witchcraft or any other alternative form of spirituality to awaken your own inner witch. You may feel attracted to her symbolism, her style or her stories but are not about to rush out to buy a cauldron or go sing songs to the sky. Maybe you’re more of a nasty woman than a devotee of the Goddess. That’s perfectly fine: the witch belongs to you too.

I remain more convinced than ever that the concept of the witch endures because she transcends literalism and because she has so many dark and sparkling things to teach us. Many people get fixated on the “truth” of the witch, and numerous fine history books attempt to tackle the topic from the angle of so-called factuality. Did people actually believe in magic? They most certainly did and still do. Were the thousands of victims who were killed in the 16th- and 17th-century witch hunts actually witches themselves? Most likely not. Are witches real? Why, yes, you’re reading the words of one. All of these things are true.

But whether or not there were actually women and men who practiced witchcraft in Rome or Lancashire or Salem, say, is less interesting to me than the fact that the idea of witches has remained so evocative and influential and so, well, bewitching in the first place.

In other words, the fact and the fiction of the witch are inextricably linked. Each informs the other and always has. I’m fascinated by how one archetype can encompass so many different facets. The witch is a notorious shape-shifter, and she comes in many guises:

A hag in a pointy hat, cackling madly as she boils a pot of bones.

A scarlet-lipped seductress slipping a potion into the drink of her unsuspecting paramour.

A cross-dressing French revolutionary who hears the voices of angels and saints.

A perfectly coifed suburban housewife, twitching her nose to change her circumstances at will, despite her husband’s protests.

A woman dancing in New York City’s Central Park with her coven to mark the change of the seasons or a new lunar phase.

The witch has a green face and a fleet of flying monkeys. She wears scarves and leather and lace.

She lives in Africa; on the island of Aeaea; in a tower; in a chicken-leg hut; in Peoria, Illinois.

She lurks in the forests of fairy tales, in the gilded frames of paintings, in the plotlines of sitcoms and YA novels, and between the bars of ghostly blues songs.

She is solitary.

She comes in threes.

She’s a member of a coven.

Sometimes she’s a he.

She is stunning, she is hideous, she is insidious, she is ubiquitous.

She is our downfall. She is our deliverance.

Our witches say as much about us as they do about anything else — for better and for worse.

More than anything, though, the witch is a shining and shadowy symbol of female power and a force for subverting the status quo. No matter what form she takes, she remains an electric source of magical agitation that we can all plug into whenever we need a high-voltage charge.

She is also a vessel that contains our conflicting feelings about female power: our fear of it, our desire for it and our hope that it can — and will — grow stronger, despite the flames that are thrown at it.

Whether the witch is depicted as villainous or valorous, she is always a figure of freedom — both its loss and its gain. She is perhaps the only female archetype who is an independent operator. Virgins, whores, daughters, mothers, wives — each of these is defined by whom she is sleeping with or not, the care that she is giving or that is given to her, or some sort of symbiotic debt that she must eventually pay.

The witch owes nothing. That is what makes her dangerous. And that is what makes her divine.

Witches have power on their own terms. They have agency. They create. They praise. They commune with the spiritual realm, freely and free of any mediator.

They metamorphose, and they make things happen. They are change agents whose primary purpose is to transform the world as it is into the world they would like it to be.

This is also why being called a witch and calling oneself a witch are usually two vastly different experiences. In the first case, it’s often an act of degradation, an attack against a perceived threat.

The second is an act of reclamation, an expression of autonomy and pride. Both of these aspects of the archetype are important to keep in mind. They may seem like contradictions, but there is much to glean from their interplay.

The witch is the ultimate feminist icon because she is a fully rounded symbol of female oppression and liberation. She shows us how to tap into our own might and magic, despite the many who try to strip us of our power.

We need her now more than ever.

[braincoins]

@tuptaju, @kilerya and I got started talking about what would happen if the US did its own version of the Eurovision Song Contest - the USC (United States Song Contest - it should be the USSC, but that would make too much sense) - out of jealousy because we’re not allowed to compete in the ESC. (”We’ll make our OWN version and it’ll be BETTER ANYWAY!”)

Ellen DeGeneres and Lin-Manuel Miranda host it. LMM would love to represent Puerto Rico, but PR, Guam, the Philippines, and the District of Columbia are not allowed to compete. This causes constant controversy, especially with D.C., whose citizens are allowed to vote but not send an act. Every year, the D.C. residents dress up like Revolutionary War patriots and protest.

Texas is disqualified. Every. Single. Year. Because the USC carried over the “No Political Content” rule from the ESC, and Every Single Year Texas either sends an explicitly political song or their act does something like yell, “FUCK THE COMMIE LIBERALS!” at the end of their song. v__v Everyone who lives in Austin wants to tear their hair out in frustration.

New York and California fight constantly for the #1 spot every year. Spots 3-5 almost always go to Illinois, Michigan, and Georgia in some order, though sometimes another state will grab that #5 spot. 

No one ever votes for Ohio.

New Jersey always looks at what won last year and tries to do something very like that for their act. Everyone knows NJ’s just copying, but no one really cares, ‘cause it’s NJ. NJ just wants to beat NY, but that’s kind of hard when everyone in NJ votes for NY. (Because you can’t vote for your own state.)

Washington and Oregon vote for each other. 

The entire South usually votes for the same act (usually Georgia because of Atlanta, but sometimes Tennessee pulls an upset). Voting for NY or CA if you live in the South usually gets you some heat, but if you vote for Illinois, you are sure to be shunned by friends and possibly family (because everyone knows Chicago stole Jazz from the South). Voting for Michigan is legit though, depending on what they submit. 

The Plains states put forth a lot of old-style country & western or folk songs. Colorado does something different every year: C&W one year, alternative the next, hipster pop the year after that. They do better than Ohio, but that’s not saying much, considering Ohio’s basically the permanent basement (of the qualifying acts). 

The Midwest splits between Illinois and Michigan. Indiana usually goes to Michigan because they hate Illinois. Michigan votes for Illinois just to piss off Indiana. Illinois votes for Michigan only because it can't vote for itself. Kentucky and Tennessee vote for each other or Michigan, and no one votes for Ohio.

Oh, and Missouri votes for either Illinois or Tennessee. Or it goes with the South. No one's really quite sure with Missouri.

Maine, Florida, Hawai’i, and Alaska actually get the spirit of the contest. Maine dresses up as moose sometimes. Florida sends acts dressed up as Gators, Palm Trees, and Little Old Ladies. One year, they dress up as Suspiciously Familiar Mice and get disqualified when Disney threatens to sue. 

Mississippi gets disqualified one year when their all-white act performs normally in the semi-final and then shows up in blackface for the finals. For the next few years, they decline to participate, huffing about how the contest is “rigged” for the “liberals,” but everyone knows it’s because they’re too broke.

EVERYONE VOTES. Accusations of voter fraud are widespread and generally unfounded. When California wins the very first year, there is a widespread right-wing conspiracy theory that Canadians and Mexicans are voting illegally and throwing the contest. (Illegals stealing our song contest!) After an in-depth investigation lasting two years, it is categorically proven that no Canadians or Mexicans voted in the contest. It doesn’t stop the conspiracy theorists.

The first year, the trophy looks a little too much like the ESC trophy. The next year, the trophy looks like a more modern microphone. Everyone watching the broadcast starts making comments about, “Yeah, sure, it’s a ‘microphone’... that’s waterproof, has three vibrate settings, and comes with personal lubricant.” (From @tuptaju​: “The winner must be extremely pleased.”) From that year on, the trophy is a standard winner’s cup with music notes on it.

One year, Australia is inexplicably allowed to compete. They almost win* and are never invited back. 

*they should have won according to actual legal votes cast. This is the one year that calls of voter fraud are few and far between, and no investigation is conducted. Strange.

The year after the Australia Incident, Georgia abruptly wins in a landslide out of a patriotic backlash. (It would have been Texas, but... well, it's TEXAS and they were disqualified again.) 

[inkribbon796]

Like a House of Cards Ch. 12: Prince Ali, Fabulous He

Summary: Roman and Janus help cause a commotion in town.

A/N: There is a lot with this opposite universe I wanted to do but I don’t have the time and it gives me an excuse to come back to it.

“Prince Ali” is from Aladdin and it was actually the first fusion I decided on when I had the idea for fusions.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

At the heart of Egoton’s city was a high rise skyscraper and towards the 7th floor was General’s lower office. He took that office when he expected meetings, and so he had a packed schedule.

A schedule that he was forced to put on hold to deal with his boyfriend.

“You irresponsible skirt chaser,” General snarled at Dames.

“We were fine,” Dames rolled his eyes and scoffed, the madman was sitting on the couch in the office.

General used Dames’s cane to pin him onto the couch, “You did that to get my attention, I am busy.”

“You’re always busy,” Dames accused. “Not my fault if I find someone warm when I get bored and lonely. You’re insufferable. You’re lucky I love you.”

Then the glass of water on General’s desk began to shake.

General growled out as he used his aura to stabilize it. “Let’s not throw fits, darling.”

“It’s not me, if I wanted to knock over your things like an overgrown house cat, I’d kick the glass off your desk,” Dames scoffed, but it brought a smile to his face.

Then the ground began to shake a little more. Music starting to be overheard faintly.

“What the devil?” Gen demanded in anger and confusion. The two immediately went to the nearest window and saw what was the cause of the shaking. In the distance there was a procession of color and lights started to make its way through the town. People were rushing to see what the commotion was.

“Ma~ke way~ for Prince Ali~!” Roman and Janus’s voices sang out, a third voice already echoing out as Roman was making their voices sound like many. “Say~ “Hey!” It’s Prince Ali~.”

General opened his windows and saw the procession coming in the distance. Dames worming his way past him.

Roman parted his way past the white curtain, his outfit a shimmering red and gold. Janus stood next to him looking more like Jafar but more gold in his outfit.

“Hey! Clear the way in the old bazaar!” Roman sang loudly, his magic making his voice reach the General easily.

“Hey you, let us through it’s a bright new star,” Janus used his magic to part the crowds so their path was not impeded and people weren’t accidentally trampled by the procession.

“Oh, come be the first on your block to meet his eye~” Janus ended the word with a serpentine hiss.

“Make way, here he comes,” Roman began sending out his magic as animal constructs started appearing behind their main float. “Ring bells! Bang the drums! You’re gonna love this guy!”

While the song was going on General was watching, Dames was — of course — enraptured by it. The vast display of magic had him guarded.

“The fuck is all that noise?” Bim shouted as he walked in, corralled on either side by Illinois and Bing who had been sent to find him.

“Where have you been?” General shouted in a fury, before turning to Bing. “Report.”

“It seems to be a purely magical construct,” Bing told General as he walked up. Illinois quickly making his. “They don’t have any weapons on them.”

“I like the pretty lights,” Dames smiled, elbows propped up on the windowsill, Illinois walked over to him, checking him over for any bruises or wounds. “Doesn’t it look pretty, Illy?”

“Yeah dad, it’s real pretty,” Illinois smiled gently at him.

“Stay braced for an attack,” General ordered, opening the door so he could step out on the balcony and face whatever attack came.

“Then come and meet his spectacular coterie~!” Roman sang, every second getting the procession closer and closer. Flowers fell from the sky.

“Prince Ali, mighty is he, Ali Ababwa,” Roman flexed his arms. “Strong as ten regular men, definitely!”

“He’s faced the galloping hordes,” Roman and Janus both summoned swords and began to clash. “A hundred bad guys with swords.”

Roman flicked his sword up and Janus let him propel his sword up into the air, the sword disappearing into dust.

“Who sent those goons to their lords?” Janus knelt, the two thespians getting into the performance and the engaged crowd. “Why Prince Ali!~”

Roman’s magic made more animals and more people appear. “He’s got seventy-five golden camels.”

Janus used his magic to conjure up a massive snake to slide him down to the front of the procession, his outfit shimmering into one covered in peacock feathers. “Purple peacocks he’s got fifty~three~!”

“When it comes to exotic type mammals,” Roman gestured to the collection of animals around them. “He’s got a zoo. I’m telling you, it’s a world class menagerie!

Janus snapped his fingers and disappeared into the crowd for a second, his form changing and her becoming a different dress. “Prince Ali, handsome as he, Ali Ababwa~!”

“That physique. How can I speak?” Janus made a little fake half-swoon, bracing her hands on her knees, “Weak at the knee.”

“Well get on out in that square,” Janus practically slid out into the street again. “Adjust your veil and prepare.”

“To gawk and grovel and stare at Prince Ali~” Janus sang out, he voice darkening as her body shifted back and his suit changed to accommodate. In the most guiltless expression he could muster, Janus smiled, “Oops.”

“He’a got ninety-five white Persian monkeys,” Roman sang out. “He’s got the monkeys!”

“Let’s see the monkeys!” Janus called up as a horde of monkeys came out of the procession and evaporated into magical dust before they could even touch anyone.

“And to view them he charges no fee!” Roman continued as the procession finally stopped in front of General’s building.

“He’s generous,” Roman and Janus both sang, their eyes glowing their respective colors for a brief instance as a third voice started to echo theirs. A voice that had only ever accompanied Janus and Remus, now starting to make themself known. “So generous.”

“He’s got slaves, he’s got servants and flunkies~” the two Sides kept going, Enigma’s echo steadily getting stronger. “Proud to work for him!”

“They bow to his whim!” Both the Sides cheered and the respective gold and red. “Love serving him. They’re just lousy with loyalty to Ali~”

“Prince~ Ali~!” Roman used his magic and strength to pick Janus up and toss him into the air. Both them started to glow. “Glamorous he~”

“Ali~ Ababwa~!” They sang as Roman caught Janus and two Sides became one: Enigma. His outfit more gold than red but flowing like Janus’s had been.

“Heard your prince here was a sight lovely to see~” Enigma pointed at Bim who was staring at him enraptured.

“And that’s good people is why,” Enigma winked, pointing to himself with his index finger, “I got all cute and dropped by.”

“With sixty elephants!” Enigma cheered as Roman and Janus’s voices acted as echoes. “Llamas galore! With bears and lions.”

“A bass band and more,” confetti burst into the air as Enigma sang. “With forty fakirs, his cooks and bakers, and birds that warble on key!”

“Make way~” Enigma smiled at General. “For Prince~ Ali~!”

The music swelled before dying down and the confetti began to settle as the crowd began to cheer. Dames was cheering and jumping up in excitement as General had to use his aura to click Bim’s jaw shut.

The procession vanished and just Enigma was standing there. Enigma just stood there and soaked up the honest praise and excitement. Then Janus directed them to look up at Gen. “Alright, we want an audience, and I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Gen glared at him, his bushy mustache twitching a bit in anger. “Fine, get your friends.”

Then he angrily looked at the crowd, “The rest of you can get out of my bloody sight!”

Slowly the crowd began to disperse and Enigma led his group inside the building, Dark bringing the group in with a portal, aided by General’s own portals.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #SAU fusions #Roman Sanders #Janus Sanders #the General #Dames Doomstrum #Aladdin references #Enigma Sanders #songfic #divas gotta dance