#totally not having an existential crisis over this turning 20 years old this year

[killugonficlibrary]

Killugon: Slow Burn

“A burn so slow you ain’t even getting a tan.” -dodici

1 series. 21 works.

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Closing the Space (Between Us) by Senket ( E | 144,974 | 49/49 )

It's been years, so many years since they separated ways at the World Tree. And no, Killua never stopped missing Gon, but that doesn't mean he ever got over the other things. The things that happened before he left. He can't make them unhappen. And neither can Gon. But maybe they can work through them. Eventually. Maybe they can build something better than before.

(Maybe Alluka and Nanika can help)

Series Part 1 of Closing Space

[Major Character Death]

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Wayward Souls by DriftingGlass ( T | 87,703 | 15/15 )

Gon Freecss has been ordered to transport a notorious and bloodthirsty criminal thousands of miles to the execution block in the kingdom's Imperial Capitol.

Enter Killua Zaoldyk, his prisoner and rather unwilling "travel-buddy."

Of course, Gon does not expect to be just as drawn to the dark warlock as the other is to him. Not all is what they seem; wires get crossed, stories are shared, and what they find in each other may shake the very worlds they come from, and the paths they have laid out for them.

Series Part 1 of The Courier and the Mage

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[Deleted Series] The Afterschool Library Chronicle by DriftingGlass ( T | 49,641 | 5 works )

A high school AU mostly focusing on Gon, Killua, and the angst, drama and coming-of-age struggles of their lives. It all starts with Killua tutoring Gon, and the rest is told here.

CURRENTLY PUBLISHED:

1. Pedagogy [ 2/2 chapters total ] 2. Beleaguerment [ 2/2 chapters total ] 3. Punctilious [ 3/3 chapters total ] 4. Espial [ 3/3 chapters total ] 5. Safeguard [ 3/3 chapters total ]

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

[Gabs: this has become a deleted work, however the author gave everyone a chance to download it prior to deletion. If you missed the message/deadline, you can reach out in my DMs.]

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Oh My God, They Were Roommates by korns ( T | 125,170 | 27/27 )

After a terrible first semester, Gon transfers to a university in San Francisco where he gets a stellar deal on a one-bedroom apartment.

At least, it was a stellar deal until he moves in and realizes that he inadvertently signed a lease with a complete stranger as a roommate. Not only that, but his accidental roommate is the single hottest guy in his major, Killua Zoldyck, and everyone and their mother is trying to get with him.

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Brohemian Rhapsody by korns ( T | 63,624 | 28/? )

When Alluka moves in with Miss Mito and her rag-tag family of three (four, if you count the neighbor kid Zushi), Killua gets ahold of Gon's number for emergency purposes. They end up talking far more frequently than expected.

A cute little slice-of-life summer suburbia texting fic feat. Delinquent Gon, Preppy Killua, and their ridiculous friends.

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Tease by geewillikers ( E | 132,115 | 22/22 )

No fucking way, Killua thought. There’s no way Gon is a porn star.

He clicked onto the account’s profile page. There, in perfect clarity, was a picture of Gon Freecss’ face.

- - -

Killua thought it was weird that his lecture hall buddy, Gon, “didn’t have social media”. He didn’t look into it—at least, not at first. But when the nude model in his figure drawing class turns out to be a porn star, Killua really didn’t expect her to be a dominatrix, much less one that collaborated with Gon Freecss.

Killua’s semester is about to get a whole lot more interesting.

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You’re Breaking My Guard by peachiinari ( M | 147,565 | 30/30 )

He misses it. Fighting.

Ballet took off the nervous edge from not being as active as he used to, but it didn’t quite replace the feeling or tension he felt during a good sparring. He misses the feeling of his heart at his throat, pounding, as he swings fist and foot, technique after technique, to knock his opponent out.

So he doesn’t protest when Bisky takes him to the industrial zone in YorkNew City, to some underground ring she supposedly sponsors. He watches as his world tilts on his axis, and he gets thrown into a world he didn’t know existed.

He watches as Gon Freecss comes stumbling into his life, and turns it completely upside with one swift punch to the gut.

((or: Killua does ballet but wishes for a little more in his life, and Gon participates in a fight club as the undefeated fighter. Their paths cross, and there grows a little something more.))

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

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one hundred by wartransmission ( T | 107,496 | 13/20 )

Everything is still the same but not, and Killua wonders how long this happiness will last. He can’t help it; it’s ingrained into him, this cautiousness that has saved his life countless times before.

Gon, on the other hand, is set on proving to him that this happiness can last. And if Gon was one thing, it was stubborn to the point of obstinacy.

Series Part 1 of one hundred

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The Fatal Rose by glittercracker ( M | 99,947 | 26/26 )

It's Killua Zoldyck's 18th birthday: the day he will take over from his father, the current Lord Zoldyck, to rule their family and their fiefdom. However, his brother, Illumi, a powerful magician, challenges him for his inheritance. When Killua refuses to give it up, Illumi curses him to live for hundreds of years with no human companionship, while dying slowly and painfully of a disfiguring disease. True love's kiss will break the curse, but Killua doesn't hold out much hope that anyone will even find him, let alone fall in love with him, before the disease consumes him.

Of course, he has yet to meet Gon Freecss.

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Graffiti by DecemberCamie ( T | 105,822 | 18/18 )

It’s been years since Killua managed to escape the clutches of his mafia family with Alluka, and since then he’s built up something close to a normal life for both of them. It hasn’t been easy, but they are alive and together, and Killua is grateful for that if nothing else.

But their peace is shattered the moment Gon Freecss crashes into their lives. Gon, a gang member who is as dangerous as he is charming; Gon, who has a single-minded determination to finish the mission he came into town for; Gon, who could unravel Killua and Alluka’s secrets as easily as he smiles—

Gon, who wants Killua for reasons beyond Killua’s understanding, but who might just end up destroying him anyway.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

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Bells and Whistles by TwilaStar ( T | 363,097 | 24/? )

The elite World Star Zoldyck family are alumni at Musica Academy, an exclusive private singing school for only the best of the best. The Zoldycks are highly praised for their superior music skills and technique, but their youngest son won’t sing. Sophomore year starts and a wildcard, Gon Freecs, is thrown into the mix. Killua tries to steer clear but it’s difficult when this guy is turning the whole school’s foundation on it’s head.

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Sip in the Dark by vitrifica ( T | 29,449 | 13/14 )

Six years after he left Gon at the World Tree, Killua has been gravitating towards the family business more than he'd like to admit. But that's all about to change on his next mission.

Or: The coffee shop AU Killua never asked for. With a side of murder.

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First Times by MurderBaby ( E | 60,002 | 11/11 )

Gon and Killua don't have a "first time." Instead, there are many, many firsts.

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See You Upside Down by Twelve (Dodici) ( T | 58,169 | 11/11 )

At the ripe old age of fifteen, Killua and his usual brand of existential crisis are still on a quest to figure out siblinghood, friendship and Gon Freecs.

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Freecs Adventure Travel Co. by sub_divided ( G | 7,920 | 2/2 )

It started with an email to Gon’s work inbox. Next to the others from young businessmen, old businessmen wanting to stay young, and couples on holiday, this one somehow stood out. It asked for Gon’s expertise in planning a trip for two people in their mid-teens, a girl and a guy whose relationship was described only as “not romantic”. In the "Experience with extreme physical activities?” field, the girl’s level was listed as "Beginner, but willing to try anything :)" while the guy’s said, simply, "Don't worry about it."

Gon grinned - that probably meant the guy was an expert but too modest to say so. That, or he was trying to accommodate his traveling buddy. Gon scrolled down to the bottom of the email and paused, staring, for a long moment.

* * *

Three years after Gon, Killua and Alluka parted ways at the World Tree, Gon is running an adventure travel company, planning elaborate custom trips for his mostly bored and wealthy clientele who want to experience something dangerous (but not too dangerous). One day, he receives an email in his work inbox that's slightly different from all the others...

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I Want Something (Just Like This) by cheritsundere ( T | 35,823 | 4/4 )

"Look, Brother! They have a new action figure of you-R FAVORITE HUNTER," Alluka said, correcting her word choice when she remembered that they were out in public.

He looked into the store shop window. Situated among some of the most popular hunters was a tiny version of himself, striking a dynamic pose - his jacket flowing dramatically and little blue sparks decorating the base. It wasn't bad. Definitely an improvement over his 1st merch.

He heard a gasp to his left. "SilverShock is your favorite too?!"

With a quick turn, Killua was met with the biggest brown eyes he thought could exist and a smile even bigger. The kid couldn't be much older than him yet he had a feeling that Mr. Sunshine probably acted closer to a Kindergartner. He took a few steps closer to his sister to put some distance between them before answering. "He's more my sis's fave than mine, but yeah I think he's cool," Killua answered, internally patting himself on the back for his modesty. He was probably the best newcomer in the country if his stats were anything to go by, but still...

Mr. Sunshine was a fan of his?

(A Superhero AU where Gon and Killua work together often but don't know the other's secret identity.)

Series Part 3 of Say You’ll See Me Again

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An Adventure’s Tale by Usermore ( T | 9,063 | 4/? )

Gon’s life had been close to ordinary, but that had all changed on one regular sunny day, when he received a letter from his distant father, Ging Freecs.

Along the way, Gon meets Killua, the prince of Kukuroo Mountain, with the longing for adventure and purpose; a man with the dream to be a doctor and help people, Leorio, and a sorcerer with a dark past named Kurapika.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

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Seeking Petrichor by avtorSola ( E | 28,869 | 8/? )

AU. Gon Freecs is a young blacksmith from Whaleisle Town, a peaceful town in the far southern country of Saherta. But for years, his dream has been to leave and search for his Druid father, the enigmatic and absent Ging Freecs who abandoned him just after his birth. And then he finds an injured stranger collapsed in the mountains outside his valley, and his life takes an unexpected turn.

Killua Zoldyck isn't just any stranger - he's the deposed heir of Padokea, the northern, warlike nation that borders the Black Mountains and the Wastes inhabited only by Trolls, Imps, and the mysterious Necromancer. And he's in trouble. Not only was he overthrown by his eldest brother, but he carries a powerful magical artifact stolen from the Necromancer himself, and the Necromancer is hunting him.

But Killua knows Ging, so Gon knows that the exiled heir to the throne of the Zoldyck assassin-kings is his best chance - his only chance - at finding his father.

And so the journey begins.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Major Character Death]

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[Abandoned] A Myriad of Color by benitato ( E | 34,808 | 11/17 )

Everything is monochromatic in Gon’s world until he meets Killua, who doesn’t seem to realize how starved he is of a life with color. This only makes Gon more determined to show him how much there is to see besides gray— if only Killua would stop refusing to touch him.

Killua doesn’t mind a world of shadows; it’s terribly convenient. He’s not about to let one happy-go-lucky heathen of a soulmate change that, fate be damned. And no, he doesn’t particularly care that said soulmate is a bit on the attractive side, or that he keeps nudging closer and offers Killua chocolate.

Nope. Not at all.

(”AU where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate.”)

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[Abandoned] Hooked on you by khohnsu ( E | 50,309 | 15/? )

Killua’s job at the club wasn’t always easy.

Especially not when people are constantly hitting on him, their bouncer tends to beat up their customers, and a certain handsome stranger keeps visiting him.

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[Abandoned] Crossfire by Arivael ( M | 43,689 | 11/18 )

When Gon and Killua had first taken the job, it had seemed simple enough: sneak, steal, deliver—easy. They hadn’t expected for things to escalate so quickly, much less for them to get personal in the most painful way possible.

After all, they were criminals. They weren’t fit for playing ‘heroes'—it just wasn’t their thing. And falling in love? That had never been a part of the equation.

Love was a dangerous thing to be in when people wanted nothing more than to make you suffer.

—

Also known as: The Pining!Killugon Thief AU that nobody asked for.

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[Abandoned] In Light of Things We Cannot See by teasdays ( T | 27,488 | 3/? )

Killua’s shoulder prickles as the presence there seems to shift. He breathes out.

“Gon is exactly who I think he is. And he’s disappeared at the same time as-” Killua’s eyes dart from Illumi to the window, and he nearly glances to his desk, where the gold box rests. “At the same time as I released a jinni. I think you’re drawing the wrong conclusions.”

“Never trust the occult,” Illumi tells him. Killua knows he's right; his sister’s headstone is reminder enough.

But Killua has grown up with a sixth sense – the unusual ability to feel magic around him, traces of it on magic users, or the concentrated crackle of spirits made up of magic itself. And so Killua knows that the boy he met at boarding school is a far cry from the jinni that wears Gon’s face. But Gon is missing, and it’s Killua’s fault – he’s the one, after all, who released the jinni in the first place.

#KilluGon #hxh #killugon masterlist #long post #slow burn #g: sb #curator gabs

[elyreywrites]

singing here’s to never growing up

more batkids shenanigans - this time inspired by a comment on a YouTube video of Avril Lavigne’s “My Happy Ending”. thank you so much to the Capes & Coffee Discord for brainstorming this fic with me, and helping me figure out ages! and an especially huge thank you to Bumpkin and Oceans on that server for being my betas for this fic!!

this fic is set in 2020. the character ages & years born are: Bruce: 37 - born 1983 Dick: 25 - born 1995 Jason: 20 - born 2000 Tim: 17 - born 2003 Damian: 11 - born 2009

title is from Avril Lavigne’s “Here’s to Never Growing Up”!

please REBLOG - DO NOT REPOST

AO3 Link

Teen 1,276 words Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne & Bruce Wayne part of my batkids shenanigans series

Summary:

Dick is just trying to get in touch with his inner angsty teenage girl. He didn’t ask for an existential crisis. Tim is making him have one anyway.

- - - - -

“…and it’s not like most plot-driven things – movies, books, shows, whatever – where the side stories might be briefly referenced but you don’t have to read them to understand what’s going on. The side games are absolutely crucial to understanding the plot.”

Jason snickered as Tim ranted about the Kingdom Hearts series. Sure, all Jason said was that he had only played the second game and was thinking about playing the first to understand the plot better, but that was ridiculous!

“If you play the first game and then go straight to the second, you’ll end up completely lost,” Tim huffed. “It starts with totally different characters and very little explanation of where they came from. That’s why you play ‘Days’ and ‘Re:Chain of Memories’—”

“Shhh,” Jason hissed, covering Tim’s mouth. “Do you hear Avril Lavigne?”

Tim paused just before he bit Jason’s hand and listened. Down the hall, he could faintly hear music.

“’All this time you were pretending. So much for my happy ending.’” Okay, that was definitely Avril Lavigne. With a tilt of his head, Tim gestured for them to investigate.

Down the hall, one of the lesser used sitting rooms had its door cracked open as the music spilled from inside. Tim slowly pushed the door open more and poked his head in. From the line of heat along his back, he knew Jason was leaning over him. That, and the chin that rested on his head because Jason was an asshole that took every opportunity to remind Tim that he’s shorter.

Tim blinked. Above him, Jason turned a near-silent snicker into a cough. Laying upside-down on the couch – feet dangling over the back and hair brushing the floor – was Dick, lip-syncing the words as dramatically as possible without changing position.

“Dick? What are you doing?” Tim asked, giving up the pretense of being sneaky and just walking in. The quiet curse behind him told him that Jason hadn’t been prepared to suddenly lose his support.

Either their older brother knew they were there or he was too good to visibly startle – each as equally likely – but it meant that Dick didn’t jump or even bother looking at them. “I’m getting in touch with my inner angsty teenage girl,” he explained.

Jason sprawled on the other end of the couch, leaving Tim to sit on the coffee table. “Any particular reason, Dickiebird?”

Dick spread his hands in an approximation of a shrug. “It be like that sometimes.”

Here’s the thing: Tim had gone through a bit of a phase years ago, and during that phase he was curious about when Avril Lavigne’s songs were released – he was a weird kid, okay? He never expected that information to come in handy, but it was his job as a little brother to torment his siblings. “Hey Dick,” Tim grinned, “guess how old I was when this song came out?”

“Why?” Dick asked, already sounding suspicious.

“I was about a year old, depending on the month,” Tim told him cheerfully.

“Nooo,” Dick whined, “Tim, why? Oh my god, you were a baby! And now you’re a teenager that’s nearly an adult and I’m old!”

“I was twenty-one,” Bruce scoffed, leaning against the doorway and drawing everyone’s attention. “I’m thirty-seven now. Please Dick, tell me about being old.”

“You don’t understand, B! At least you were already an adult, and now you’re just a more adult-adult. Tim was a tiny little baby and now he’s practically all grown up! I was a kid, and now I’m an actual adult! With a job! I’m having a crisis right now!”

Tim hummed. “Then I probably shouldn’t mention that her song ‘Sk8er Boi’ is older than I am.”

Dick wailed as Jason started howling with laughter so much that he grabbed his ribs.

“Tim! Why would you say that?!”

Damian walked in right then, scowling. “What idiotic nonsense is Drake spewing now that has you in a fit, Grayson?” Before anyone could answer, his brows furrowed and he added, “And why are all of you listening to such old music?”

That set Jason off again and Tim joined in. Their combined laughter wasn’t nearly enough to drown out Dick’s small, quiet sob as he slid off the couch to be a human puddle of existential crisis on the floor. “Babies,” he whispered. “I’m surrounded by babies. All of you are children. Oh my god.”

“Hey! I’m not a fuckin’ child, I’m twenty goddamn years old!” Jason argued.

Dick shrieked, “You can’t even legally drink!”

“Did you know you’re older than Google by three years, Dick?” Tim said. Dick whimpered.

Rolling his eyes, Bruce lightly cuffed Tim on the back of the head. “Give him a break, kiddo.”

“I have yet to have an answer as to why you all are listening to this infernal racket,” Damian demanded.

Within a couple seconds, Jason went from wheezing for air to completely solemn as he looked at Damian. “Sometime, kid, you just fuckin’ need to get in touch with your inner angsty teenage girl, and Avril Lavigne is the shit for that.” His faux-serious expression shattered with a smirk as he tacked on, “Also, I’m pretty sure Jon’s got this album.”

Damian scoffed and stormed out, muttering about being surrounded by idiots – Dick must have shown him Lion King then – and Tim snickered again. On the floor, Dick was still muttering and moaning about children and babies and “I’m so old, I’m like the Crypt Keeper”.

Tim bit his lip to stop himself from telling Dick that Freaky Friday – which was already apparently a remake – came out about a month after he was born. That could be saved for the next time Dick had a crisis about his age.

- - -

Two weeks later, Tim stopped halfway through ranting at Dick for only playing the main titles of Kingdom Hearts to stare down the hall. Much like the last time he was on a tangent about the game series, he could hear Avril Lavigne playing from somewhere. Except the only rooms down that hall were their bedrooms, and Jason and Dick stood on either side of him. The three glanced at each other, and Dick immediately grinned and bounced down the hall. Jason was smirking as he followed, and Tim trailed after hoping this wouldn’t end with Damian trying to stab him again.

Dick burst in as soon as he reached Damian’s room, where the music was definitely blaring from behind the door. “Dami, you’re listening to Avril Lavigne!”

When Tim peaked in, Damian was face-planted on his bed with his face towards the foot of the bed.

“I do not wish to talk about it,” he snapped, muffled as it was.

“Aw,” Dick pouted, “do you want a hug?”

Snarling, Damian lifted his head up enough to glare at all three of them. “I would prefer for you to leave my room at once!”

“Alright Dickie,” Jason said, grabbing and hauling Dick out, “leave the brat to fuckin’ wallow in his anti-social, pre-teen angst. Sometimes you just need to angst it out alone, as you damn well know.”

“Aren’t you the literature nerd? I mean, really, Little Wing, ‘angst it out’?” Dick snarked.

Tim pulled Damian’s door closed and followed after. “Hey, language is fluid and always changing,” he added.

Gesturing at him for emphasis, Jason declared, “Fuckin’ exactly! All words were made up at some point, and English is already a fucking mess of words from different languages smashed together! And at least a shit ton of the rules have exceptions!”

Tim nodded, “Like the ‘I before E except after C’ rule.”

“Here we go again,” Dick muttered.

“You fuckin’ started it!”

#batfam #batfamily shenanigans #batkids shenanigans series #fanfiction #crack fic #elyrey writes things #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dcu #batman #red robin #red hood #nightwing #robin #avril lavigne songs referenced #tim drake is a little shit

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 9

Bad Kids Family Reunion

Can you believe we’re on our last episode for the year? I feel like we just started! We may not have another episode until January, but we left off on a doozy this week so let’s get going. This ep is basically split into two parts: The bulk of the Bad Kids in the Land of the Lomenelda and Adaine in Catheldriel Tower. In the ep, we go back and forth a little, but I’ll just summarize each part separately to keep things simple. 

Lomenelda Family Reunion

As you probably remember, last week the group decided to teleport to the Land of the Lomenelda because Catheldriel Tower was too secure to get into directly and because The LotL is both close by to the Tower but also the ancestral home of Fabian’s mother’s side of the family. 

Once they arrive, they see it’s basically the most stereotypical elven forest ever. Pristine woods, beautiful animals, haunting music. Fig puts a clove cigarette on the ground as an offering to a deer that she thinks might be her creature (which she still hasn’t paid for as far as I know) which brings out an elf named Telemien to tell her to stop littering. Telemien is very Elrond-esque and he has all the classic elven traits--long-winded, breathy speech, weirdly inflected words, turning into sand to be dramatic. He also happens to be Fabian’s grand-dad. 

Gilear rolls very well on his diplomacy check and, combined with the fact that they’ve brought family, the group in welcomed into the forest with open arms. Fabian fills his grand-dad in on why they’re in his neck of the woods and Telemien informs him that the Abernant family has been disgraced, Adaine’s mom was found guilty of treason (though he doesn’t know the exact crime) and fled, and their land has been seized by the Court of Stars. While the Lomenelda are generally apolitical, Telemien doesn’t have a problem saying that he has a low opinion of the Abernant family and Anguin especially is an amoral, power-grabbing, sonuvabitch.  

Riz, who is shouldering the entire responsibility of keeping the Bad Kids on task since Adaine is currently locked up, rolls to see if anything weird is going on in the forest and we learn that the Lomenelda basically just drug their teenagers with magic grapes and sad music to keep them chill and not horned up (something he finds iffy until a day of herding his friends towards a very time sensitive rescue mission at which point he’s like maybe this guy is on to something). Still, Riz warns the group against eating anything, which is always a good rule of thumb when you’re dealing with fae-adjacent nonsense (and Kristen does ping faint fey/celestial energy when she casts a Detect Evil and Good).

Fig and Riz are willing to leave for their rescue mission pretty much right away but the group decides to get a full night’s sleep first so they can regain spell slots and stuff. Ragh goes to flirt with some elf teenagers and Tracker reminds Kristen that they need to have a chat vis a vis Garthy and Sandra-Lynn. So, four episodes after the fact, Kristen finally tells Tracker that Sandra-Lynn hooked up with Garthy but she does it in such a blase and offhanded way that I assume was an attempt to sell it as not a big deal to Tracker to prevent a trip to the doghouse. It’s not the strategy I would have suggested and clearly the dice agree with me because she hits double Nat 1s on her persuasion roll. Tracker gives her another shot to give the real reason why she kept the info from her (besides “I didn’t wanna tell a lot of people,” which is such weaksauce). Kristen says that “so much was happening” and just Tracker stalks off. 

Fig, having seen Tracker leave in a huff, asks what just went down and Kristen tells her. Fig takes Kristen’s side and is appreciative that Kristen was willing to let her mom’s business be her own business. Kristen decides to give Sandra-Lynn a heads up that Tracker knows what she did. Sandra-Lynn is distraught enough about the situation that she makes the mistake of briefly giving Kristen whisky before wising up and sending her to the Van, sans alcohol.  

Fig talks to Gilear who, if you remember, also noticed that something was up with Sandra-Lynn and Garthy. Fig doesn’t give details but basically confirms it and says that at least he can take solace in the fact that him getting cheated on was probably more on her than because of anything he did. Gilear responds by telling Fig a little about Sandra-Lynn’s short-lived adventuring career: Apparently, Sandra-Lynn was a rising star in the adventuring world back when she went to Aguefort but her career was thrown off the rails when she joined a party as a replacement and ended up romantically involved with one member of a couple. The couple was very powerful and the one she was with didn’t treat her very well. Eventually, she was kicked out of the party and her name was smeared by the couple. After that, she couldn’t really find another party to join which is why she works for the Ranger Corp now. Gilear knows who the couple in question is but declines to tell Fig.

And the Kristen/Tracker trainwreck continues. Kristen gathers flowers for Tracker and finds her sulking in wolf form. Kristen did a decent job on the flower picking but whiffs her persuasion roll with another Nat 1! Tracker says that Kristen is always going off about being introspective and doing the right thing, but sitting on this, paralyzed with inaction was just as much of a wrong choice as taking an action and, also, it just plain sucked. Kristen kind of tries to “yes, dear” her way through the lecture but then gives Tracker the flowers in such a way that implies that eventually Tracker will get over it which Tracker does not care for at all. She stalks off for a second time.

Fig decides to tell Telemien that Gilear is dating Hilariel (his daughter) and they leave to take a walk and talk about poetry. Gorgug (who is very exhausted by all of the elven nonsense going on) goes to the Van and asks Ayda if she can cast Sending for him to Zelda. After accosting him (you can take the girl out of the pirate city and so on I guess) she says she’ll do it for 150 gold. The message essentially says, “Hey. We’re safe. Sorry about screwing up. I’m working on it. Miss you.” He rolls Persuasion with disadvantage and a 12 gets him left on read all night. 

Tracker has cast the Moon Haven spell and everyone (except Gilear) piles into the Van. Kristen, who’s sleeping alone tonight for obvious reasons, walks into Ragh’s room and sees that he has brought a high elf teenager. She quickly leaves to give him privacy and then decides to take Adaine’s room for the night. While she’s awake, she notices that Gorgug is still awake too. He says he messaged Zelda and he hasn’t gotten a reply yet. Maybe it’s a time zone thing? Kristen is pretty sure it isn’t a time zone thing. Gorgug also notices that Kristen came out of Adaine’s room and not Tracker’s. They hug it out over both being in the doghouse with their respective partners.

Fabian, who had previously failed his Con save with an 8, gets to re-roll because of the super fine, elven forged, 800 thread count sheets he brought into the Moon Haven (that Riz refused because it seemed inappropriate while Adaine was in jail) and he got a modded 20, finally getting over his levels of Exhaustion. Our boy isn’t back to his old self but he’s getting there.

In the morning, Riz is very anxious to leave and very over all the elven and Bad Kid shenanigans. Ragh is also very ready to leave, but that’s mainly because he wants to escape his (first ever) hook-up who is a liiiitle too into him being a half-orc if you know what I mean. Kristen decides to give one of her classic, patented, inspiring speeches which is just a glorious trainwreck that’s half public apology, half total ramble, 100% uncomfortable for everyone involved. Then, she offhandedly asks Telemien if he can see Kalina in the photo. He can’t but, guess what? She can. She freaks and asks Tracker to hug her cause she’s freaking out. Tracker obliges until Kristen pushes her luck and asks if she’s slept off being mad at her, at which point she up and leaves for the THIRD TIME. Even Fig is like, “Yikes, girl.”

Ayda isn’t sure if this is a good time (it’s not) but she got a reply back from Zelda. Zelda said that she couldn’t answer because she was at a party and says trying to build a cell tower is crazy. “It’s all whatever Gorgug. I don’t blame you.” The gang walks Ayda through the nuance of the text and why the prognosis is looking negative on the Zelda front. She offers to hurt Zelda for Gorgug. Gorgug appreciates the sentiment but declines. Ayda also says she can research Planeshift for Fig once they’ve rescued Adaine. 

But back to the matter at hand. Telemien explains the defenses of Calethriel Tower: It’s defended by a lot of arcane spellcraft that will protect against most magic attacks but is vulnerable to physical attacks which the elves would see as too base to defend against. All of the defenses are powered by Elemental Pylons (which are basically like power transformers). Also, Gilear tries (and fails) to ask for Hilariel’s hand in marriage by inducing vomiting in himself which makes slightly more sense in context but only slightly. 

When they get to the edge of the valley where the tower is, Kristen sees that the Pylons are pretty far away from each other (like, miles away). There’s no way to hit both towers and then get to Adaine before someone realizing something’s up. The group mentions that they’re also supposed to be breaking out Aelwyn but Fabian is a lot less gung-ho about that part of the plan than he previously was, pre-existential crisis. They talk it out for a while and end up coming up with the following plan: The hirelings will go to one Pylon to destroy it. Gorgug, Fabian, and Riz will destroy the second Pylon at the same time. Once the Pylons are down and the magical defenses are weak enough that they can use magic without it being countered, Fig (disguise expert), Kristen (in case Adaine or Aelwyn need heals, which they will), and Ayda (who has teleportation and invisibility spells) will go in and get the sisters. Then, everyone will meet at the Van and teleport out (or at the very least, get together to plan a different way out). 

Abernant Family Reunion

Meanwhile, in Calethriel Towel, Adaine is having a Day. She’s been put in a Torture Orb which isn’t that bad for the time being but it is very annoying and Boggy is pretty upset. She’s actually not being prevented from casting spells because the elves wouldn’t expect her to have slots yet and she can’t really regain them without trancing. She can sense that the prison is full of permanent magical effects (powered by the Pylons she doesn’t know about) which is unusual since those are really hard to achieve. 

The elves’ hubris in not completely stopping her from casting spells works out to Adaine’s favor. She casts Dispel Magic and needs to hit a 15. She gets a 19 and her orb disappears. Unfortunately, that sets off an alarm. She needs to hide but she’s not exactly Riz. She decides (to my immediate delight) to hide in Aelwyn’s room. She only rolls a 6 but that only means that Aelwyn clocks her when she rushes in, not the guards. Speaking of the guards, on a 15 perception check, Adaine can see that there actually aren’t a ton of security mages. It just seems that way because they can immediately teleport to wherever the problem is from these doorless archways. 

Anyway, Kier rushes in with some green, 8ft tall, magical construct guards. As she does so, Aelwyn motions for Adaine to stay silent. Kier asks Aelwyn if she knows where Adaine is and Aelwyn basically says, “How should I know?” (which is a question and not an outright lie, smart in case any kind of lie detector spell was running). Once Kier is gone, Aelwyn telepathically messages Adaine (which is a cantrip she’d be able to do even without spell slots) and asks if Adaine has any spell slots left they can use to escape. Adaine says she has 4 first level spell slots and her frog, but her spellbook was taken (as was her jacket). Aelwyn says it was probably taken to the vault on the first floor but it would have been locked down because of the alarm was triggered. Then she and asks if their mom found her and Adaine said she did, briefly.

Up close, Adaine can see more clearly what she glimpsed for a second when she was brought in. Aelwyn is doing BAD. She’s shaking just from the effort of keeping upright and having trouble putting together thoughts. Completely unprompted, Adaine tells Aelwyn that nobody deserves the torture she’s going through and that it’s barbaric and undeserved. Aelwyn immediately starts tearing up (as much as she can being so dehydrated) and says that she can’t remember exactly what it is that she did--both to the world in general and to Adaine specifically--but it was also barbaric and undeserved. She apologizes and is self aware enough to realize how messed up she must have have been that it took months of literal torture to get her to a place where she realized that she had things to apologize for--even though she can’t really remember what they are at this point in her mental deterioration. Adaine, in turn, is aware enough to realize at this point that their parents didn’t just screw her up; they screwed up Aelwyn too by treating her like the golden child. Aelwyn reflexively defends their parents, saying that they tried their best and that they were just trying to make them better by having high expectations but Adaine, who’s had a year of therapy to unpack her trauma, gently rebuffs her. “Expectations without love? What’s that?”

At this point in the conversation, Aelwyn starts repeating herself like an NPC that’s run through all their scripted dialogue options. Adaine realizes but is very patient with her until she’s found and brought back to her cell. However, her cell is close enough to Aelwyn’s that they can message each other. She also uses Ray of Frost in her Orb to make a kind of Slip and Slide to keep her spirits up and she’s able to avoid taking a level of exhaustion in there.  

Later, Kier comes in with Adaine’s dad so they can talk. And by that I mainly mean so he can talk at her because she still wants nothing to do with him. Anguin tells Adaine to stop being stubborn and just do what’s asked of her to avoid execution. She also doesn’t know how he is OK with how they’re torturing to Aelwyn. He says she’s being a drama queen since Aelwyn committed treason and she’s not being literally physically beaten or injured. Adaine starts trying to respond to that and then decides to just demand a lawyer. Anguin thinks she’s being ridiculous because things like lawyers and democracy are Solesian concepts and ridiculous, unlike Falinel’s totally normal system government which involves immortal dancers and moon phases.  

Adaine, in probably the most high-elf-y display we’ve seen from her, formally curses her dad in the name of the seas and the moon and sun. Then she casts Tasha’s Hideous Laughter on her dad (wasting one of her very few spell slots in a very in character way) because she truly cannot help herself. After Kier quickly dispels it, she demands to see the Solesian Ambassador. But you’re a citizen of Falinel, says Kier (though she can’t hide that the threat gets to her a little). Yeah, but I go to Aguefort, says Adaine. As soon as his name is invoked, a hologram of Aguefort pops up like Clippy and says, “Hey, it seems like you’re F’ing with one of my students. Now, I’m the baddest bitch that’s ever lived. Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Kier smirks and chooses the hard way. The hologram blinks out, an alarm starts going off--

And that’s where we end for the year! 

*Note: Anguin and Adaine also were contenders for Detention and the Honor Roll respectively but it would have been for basically the same things as last week so I chose other people. 

Detention

Kristen for The Worst Apology Ever

I’ve been concerned about this whole Sandra-Lynn/Garthy thing blowing up since it happened, man. I read the writing on the wall. And I knew, if she didn’t get ahead of it, this was gonna splash back on Kristen. And then she decides, not only is she not going to get ahead of it, she’s gonna actively jog further behind it? Truly wild. 

And it’s even crazier because, yeah, it would be an awkward conversation to have but it wouldn’t have reflected badly on Kristen (who didn’t do anything), just on Sandra-Lynn. And, yeah, not great for group dynamics but, you know what’s way worse? Tracker being mad at Kristen AND Sandra-Lynn. Tracker’s not even so mad on her Uncle’s behalf as she is about how Kristen decided to handle the situation which, yeah! Duh! How did you think cutting your girlfriend out of the loop would go?

And, listen, a lot actually was going on. The Fabian ordeal then Ragh got possessed, Riz got ambushed by Kalina, they fought Wicklaw again and Adaine got kidnapped. All of these things happened very close together than they’re all #1 Priority type things. She for sure had time to tell Tracker (and should have) but it wasn’t the most pressing thing going on. There is an apology that includes the words “there was a lot going on” that actually works but DAMN, this was NOT it chief.

Honor Roll

Aguefort for Having his Students’ Back 

Listen. Aguefort is a crazy, mercurial, semi-feral agent of chaos who I would never leave children in the care of.

HOWEVER, when he comes through he REALLY comes through and man did he come through for Adaine.

Of course, it remains to be seen what his help will actually look like but he gets this spot for bringing a spot of hope into a pretty terrible situation in a very cool way. Well, that and the Drama of It All. 

Also, I’m just relieved he’s at least somewhat keeping track of the child assassins he’s sending out into the world.  

Random Thoughts

Adaine Re: Boggy: He’s with me how dare you?

Brennan says near the end of the ep something like, “I didn’t think we were gonna spend a whole episode dunking on eleves,” but, honestly? Valid. I really can’t stand elves in most media (even though I usually play elves or half-elves) because they’re so pompous and holier than thou and constantly talking about how fleeting everyone else's lives are. It drives me nuts. Moonshine in Naddpod is my favorite elven archetype in anything because she totally inverts the trope. 

“I can’t believe I’m half this.”/”You are not half this these are high elves.”

I love how Fig has absolutely no concept of how this “make me a creature” thing is supposed to work. Does she think Aguefort is just gonna release it into the world without telling her and she has to just, like, find it? Not that that doesn’t sound like something he might do, but still.

Gorgug gets so sick of the insane elven pronunciations and talk about how he’s gonna die at 20 and general nonsense that he has to go lie down in the Van which is The Mood.

Fabian receiving a long, elven greeting from his grandad and then giving the most kid-like response--“Yeah so I’m in high school and I have a school project I need help on and it’s like 60% of my grade”--was very funny.

A couple lore points from this episode:

Fabian’s grand-dad crafted a sword for the king of Falinel 3000 years ago which is why he was gifted the land they live on.

Calethriel Tower was originally a monument by a grieving widow to her husband died in war with Highcourt 500 years ago.

For more detailed physical descriptions and info on the lore, you can check out jamiebluewind’s post on that here.

And then you can also find new character descriptions here and transcripts of the two big RP scenes in Calethriel tower here and here. 

And I just wanna give another big shoutout to @jamiebluewind who saved me a lot of backtracking with these descriptions/transcripts. I really appreciate the effort it takes to do that and it’s a super useful resource to have.  

“Sheetsmith” High elves are truly insufferable. I’m with Gorgug on this.

I love Fig’s continuing efforts to be Gilear’s cheerleader. Their relationship is so great and it’s come a long way. I also love his brief moments of insight and competence (like, lol, remember in ep1 when Fig disguised herself as her mom and he drove her to school anyway? I loved that) so I was really cheering for him when he successfully did his diplomat stuff at the top of the ep and during his talk with Fig.

Fabian saying he wants his V-Card “removed” like it’s an infected appendix or something. I’m curious to see what, if anything, he says to Aelwyn when they see each other again, seeing as they’ve both hit rock bottom since the last time they met--which, to remind you, was at an insane house party where they were both at like a 14 out of 10.

I think it’s really great that, despite how much the Bad Kids clown on each other, they’re all super patient with explaining social nuances to Ayda. And I love that even though Ayda is pretty unclear about what the appropriate response is to anything, she is pretty ride or die but quick to rein it in once someone talks to her.

“It’s probably fine if Gilear has a grape.”

It’s very important for me to note that the funniest thing that happened this episode was a player action, not a character action and it was Siobhan--after about an hour of sitting in relative silence as the rest of the group did their thing--pulling out a present for Brennan--a set of Sugar and Dice Candy Dice. “So you can eat your fucking dice!” Amazing.

Brennan, as Telemien, recited some poetry and either Brennan just had that memorized or he was freestyling poetry with a consistent meter and rhyme scheme which is just too much for me to handle rn.

Kristen’s “inspiring” speech included the line, “Friendship is thicker than water and we need water to live.” Classic Kristen.

I truly cannot wait for Hilariel to re-enter the story. I want her takes on so many things and I want to know what her relationship with Gilear is like so so so bad. I wonder if he’s gonna tell her what happened with her dad. I didn’t really get the sense that she and Telemien stay in touch very much. But, in fairness, I don’t think she’s kept up with anything/one much in the past 20ish years. Imagine a wedding arc. Now that I’ve thought of it, I want it more than I can imagine. You know Fig would appoint herself Best Man.

The friend group thing where someone says your name wrong once and you pray it doesn’t become A Thing, even though someone’s already in the process of changing the group text title to that. Anyway, you know everyone’s gonna be spelling Fabian’s name Fah-Bee-Ahn in their group text for the foreseeable future.

Fig Re: Gorgug using the Pirate Sending Spell to Zelda: You can end with raunchy promises.

What party was Zelda going to in the Red Waste mid-quest? Was there even really a party? Or was it maybe a Gold Gardens type thing? Based on my experiences being a teenage girl, I would not be surprised if that text was written by committee. 

“She’ll come back?”/“Sure.” 

Kristen taking Adaine’s vacant room was such an evocative image. I can see it perfectly. Just her curled up alone in this immaculate room with little Adaine-y touches, sad about two things.

The Bad Kids in the forest had maybe the biggest Teenager energy that I’ve seen in any episode of FH so far. Like, that Tracker/Kristen argument alone.

“If you wanted me to build a cell tower I would do it immediately and I would know how.”

I don’t know if there really haven’t been many Kristen and Gorgug scenes or if I’m just forgetting but I loved their one on one in this ep. They’re good scene partners. 

I also really liked Gorgug’s talk with Ayda who has been a great addition to the squad. And I love how easily she jumped from, “You’re a good person from what I’ve seen” to that John Mulaney sketch where he’s like, “That guy sounds like he sucks. Do you want me to murder him for you?”

Brennan gave everyone some XP this ep so they’re very close to level 9. Lol at everyone suggesting they Fight Club each other to grind the last bit they need.

“My friend is kidnapped and the rest of my friends are just dancing and eating grapes!”

Telemien’s abject revulsion to the point of throwing up at the operation of a gun (which is why Gilear induced vomiting before asking for Hilariel’s hand btw) was a Choice on Brennan’s part.

“The body protects itself and secretes more hit points.”

Telemien offers to get the best eleven eyesmiths (sure) to make Fabian a new eye and it shouldn't even take long. Unfortunately, in elf-time, that could mean anything from 1 - 100 years.

WHY CAN KRISTEN SUDDENLY SEE THE SHADOWCAT? WHAT IS GOING ON? I’m like thisclose to thinking that it actually is transmitted through bodily fluids like some people were saying. But, seriously, what’s changed since last time the picture was taken out? This was post argument with Tracker. Is that a factor? Or does it just feel like it might be because it was the last major thing to happen before she was able to see it? I want to sit down during the break and make, like, a conspiracy theory board to put together all the data we have on this so far because I feel like every single new piece of info we get is something unexpected but I falso eel like we’re gonna hit ourselves when we realize what it is. 

Fig is very ride or die for Adaine this whole episode. She basically had no spell slots but was ready to go after Adaine right away, she offered to go in to get her alone as a “one woman Adaine retrieval team” while everyone else dealt with the Pylons, and when Ayda said Adaine was her best friend, she was like, “Well Adaine is kinda my best friend.”

“By the transitive property, are we best friends?” [Yes] “I grow richer by the day.” I love her so much. 

Even though Telemien is like more than a thousand years old, he’s apparently never met a goblin because he calls Riz a “strange, green, mouse thing.”

Riz: Who among us hasn't killed someone?

That "on mushrooms" bit had big "cell tower" energy.

Gorgug: Your grandfather is pissing me off.

Siobhan, to Lou who just Rolled an 8 on His Con Save: We're gonna get you new hands for Christmas. 

“It’s Gilear’s day baybee!”

I loved Riz and Fig teaming up to give Gilear as much help as possible for his botched attempt at asking for Hilariel’s hand. “Did he just call himself a throw-up boy?”

If you think about it, it actually is extremely funny that Adaine would demand a lawyer. She’s lived in Falinel almost her entire life but she studied abroad for one year and all of a sudden she’s like, “I have rights!”

Gilear very specifically said that Sandra-Lynn was with, "a member if the couple" and not which one it was. That was such an intentionally vague phrasing that I'm surprised Fig didn't call him on it. Also, I'm curious whether Fig actively knows who it is (maybe a teacher at school) or if he just knows she would go track them down for shenanigans once she had a name.

Also, speaking of Fig, wild that her Catfishing of Dr. Asha is one of the only relationships standing at this point. 

OK, I ate my vegetables now I get to talk about Abernant Family Drama.

Those of you who have been following me since I became active in the d20 fandom probably know that one of the first things I wrote were a series of meta-bordering-on-drabbles about what a future relationship between Adaine and Aelwyn could look like because, from episode one, my thought was, “There’s not one messed up sister in this house, there’s two.” I have been on the Abernant Sisters Against Their Parents train since S1 y’all and I thought it had a decent chance of happening but then Aelwyn’s iconic S1 episode happened and we learned she was working with Kalvaxus and she got thrown in jail so there wasn’t much time for development from her.

But then, it became clear that the Abernant family was gonna be all up in this arc and I got excited again. I mean, I tempered my expectations. The confrontation could have shaken out in a couple of different ways. And I would have enjoyed watching Adaine verbally destroy two family members instead of just the one, don’t get me wrong. But y’alllllllllll.

I thought Adaine and Aelwyn would put aside their differences and end up on the same side eventually but I wasn’t expecting Adaine, with absolutely no prompting, to take the path of compassion so quickly and absolutely. And, in turn, I didn’t expect Aelwyn to be as apologetic and forthright as she was. And, man, her whole situation is heartbreaking. The idea that you were so messed up that it took a year of torture to be able to recognize that you were living such a fundamentally flawed life? And then reaching that point but at the cost of your stability and the information needed to make things right? Literally not knowing what’s real and what your fevered brain has made up? That’s so tragic, man.

And Adaine was so gentle with her. The patience as she started repeating things and the kindness as she firmly cast away any remaining delusions Aelwyn had about their parents and upbringing. I am so constantly upset by how well the cast in general but Bren and Siobhan specifically just spit out these fully formed masterpieces that I would need to take a full hour to think through before even opening a Word Doc. It’s really magical.

I have no idea how much mental damage a healing spell can fix, if any, but I’m very interested to see what an even slightly more stable Aelwyn looks like, post all of this. Like, say she gets completely stable due to a combo of therapy and healing magic over time. What is her personality even like at that point? Does she revert back to a version of her old personality but with the acid aimed at someone who deserves it? Does she start from scratch from this baby deer learning to walk place she’s at right now? 

Very good DM move from Brennan to have Adaine’s low stealth roll to be Aelwyn noticing her and not the guards so we still got the Aelwyn confrontation and not a quick and frustrating capture. 

Aelwyn asked Adaine if, “mother found you,” which makes it sound like she checked in with Aelwyn before she fled. I continue to be very interested in the clues we’re getting to what that woman is up to. Maybe Aelwyn knows more info that the gang could get once she’s a little better or via a detect thoughts or something similar.

I want Anguin to look me in the eye and tell me to my face that not letting someone rest for a full year and not letting them eat or drink and literally keeping them on the brink of death isn’t torture so I can jump through the computer screen into Falinel and strangle him with my bare hands. Like, boy, you’re not even going to go with, “This is justified torture?” You’re gonna say it just straight isn’t? Man I can’t wait for the Bad Kids and/or Aguefort Himself to get sicced on this bastard.

OK, I don’t wanna end on a point about Anguin so, instead, think about Adaine and Aelwyn keeping each other company from nearby cells via the Message cantrip. Isn’t that bittersweet? Closer than they’ve ever been but physically separated and it took literal torture for them to get there.

Oh! And, actually, I almost forgot but this is also a good note to end on. Shoutout to Adaine for switching from Elven to Common when talking to her dad, just to be that little bit more of an annoyance to him. You gotta rebel how you can. 

That's it for 2019, guys! We don't have another ep until January 8. Have a good New Years in the meantime and I'll see you then!

No Nat 20’s were rolled this ep. Gorgug rolled 1 Nat 1 and Kristen rolled 2 (or three if you count the one she rolled with disadvantage).

#fantasy high #fantasy high live #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #forgot the cut

[philalethistry]

WELP my birthday month was a bit of a rollercoaster ride. I thought about the cons of posting this but I’d like to record it, so that future me can look back and, depending on how the future goes, either feel validated or be glad that this is over. Warning: discussion of crappy mental health.

TL;DR Breakdown results in will to live and fuck current events I have a recliner

I’m going to start with today, Sept. 1, and work back, for reasons.

Today I drove to a furniture thrift store. This doesn’t sound like much, but I A. hate driving, especially to new places, B. am already in a pretty anxious state, and C. I got lost because the road I wanted to turn on wasn’t marked, nor looked like a road rather than an alley, and so I somehow spent two hours trying to find one store. (At one point I had to stop and get something to eat because I had started shaking. The cashier watched me struggle to free two bills from my wallet and then declined the change I owed her to avoid making me retrieve that too. I wonder if she thought I was high...)

The important thing about what I did today, is I went out to find the store, and even when I did not find the store and ended up circling back to my street, instead of going home and having a sandwich and watching Youtube, I turned around again. I know it’s partially because of this video’s explanation of why one gets more nervous trying to do something a second time after procrastinating or running away from it, as I’d always pin the anxiety on my guilt, instead of a fear instinct which is more managable. But I’m going to give dopamine where dopamine is due and also say that my eventual victory was partially because of the newfound strength I have in the aftermath of the freak mental storm that enveloped the start of August.

I know that no one is doing “””okay””” right now, because of Everything, and that is nicely validating, because I am not okay either. But it’s dissonant, because I’d often follow the lead of neurotypicals and high-functioning depressives and anxious people when I’m in a bad way. If THEY say things aren’t as hopeless as I think they are, they probably aren’t! While that helped, it also downplayed my brain issues, and now that everyone has the same opinions on the State of Things, I realized I didn’t have any idea of how to confront the bad shit on my own, and neither does anyone else.

I’m technically still quarantining by refraining from making a lot of trips out and from getting a job, and so the murky pea-soup fogs of the future unsettle me. I was pretty chipper for the larger part of quarantine, as an introvert. Then one day, the thought suddenly occurred to me of the sheer amount of time I’ve spent in quarantine, how COVID isn’t receding from Arizona, how I had to quit the first job I’d gotten in the face of anxiety and depression, of how much of my future rests on the coming election, and most of all of how I have no idea what my future holds, of where I’ll be five or ten years down the line. “In the same place” and “Somewhere else” seem equally intimidating.

And then hormones struck.

I’ve had bad depressive episodes; I’ve had bad days of anxiety; I’ve had bad PMS; and then I’ve simply indulged unhealthy negativity. All of these, combined, made for a surreal and frightening experience. Emphasis on surreal. Also, contextually, emphasis on frightening, obviously. There were many feelings. Emphasis on everything.

My mental space may be a mess but I’ve never been too concerned with dwelling on life and death, even when faced with the latter. It’s never been a point of any interest to me; in the face of mortality I’m pretty good at giving importance to the present moment and to my internal values, like “science cool,” “mocha good” and “drawing fun.” In fact since childhood (third grade. Is this a normal third grader thing??) I’ve been a fan of cheerful nihilism, IE “There isn’t a secret meaning to the universe therefore I can give it any meaning I can make! Anything is possible, things are great!” I didn’t really grasp the concept behind existential dread, it sounded like something that happened to movie characters when the writers didn’t know how else to portray angst. Oh boy, do I have a new emotion I won’t be able to forget. My natural disaster of a brain supplied me, among everything I was already experiencing, three (3!!!) different categories of existential crisis. I had to look it up. And the weird thing about this Satan’s asscrack of an episode, is that while I’m prone to spiraling rumination, normally I can distract myself, because it’s still just me, thinking unhelpful thoughts. This time, these thoughts, the shittiest thoughts I’ve ever had the displeasure of producing, were automatic. I was not getting stuck pondering one bad topic; everything I saw became, in real time, entangled in the web of thought pattern in the most natural way. And it was LOUD.

Have you ever thought, “I’ll sit on the couch, the couch is comfy. The couch did not exist until a few years ago, its lack of existence had no impact on anything in any meaningful way, and when it turns to dust it will be forgotten.” Because I myself had a teensy bit of an inkling that maybe that ain’t normal. The thing is, I knew I was only feeling this way because, well, I Was Feeling That Way, it’s just the mood; but being stuck in isolation, and with everyone else also troubled by issues of the past, the present and the future, knowing that didn’t help.

I can remain in a depressive / anxious state for a little while, but the actual peaks only last at most a couple of hours. This was Mt. Everrest AND it lasted a week and a half. I was at the end of my rope a day in and had no idea what to do about it, so I tried to do everything. The physical present felt empty, so I tried to fill it with media, literature, art, walks, family time. Problem is, “anhedonia” - a symptom of depression where you don’t get dopamine boosts from activities - cuts pleasure out of these things, so nothing held my interest, let alone made me feel motivated or remotely better. Another symptom of depression, weirdly enough, is the feeling of disgust - I wasn’t conscious of this symptom until it was magnified. I felt completely and utterly repulsed by everything around me. I first thought it was the clutter, then the way the furniture was arranged, then I thought I’d been inside too long so I took walks in the neighborhood when nobody was out. The confusion came when I disliked the trees, grass, and fresh air too - I had to Google my feelings to find out what the heck was going on.

Which brings me to my bedroom. My room is littered with memorabalia, I’m sentimental so I have little shrines of items from the past and of things I value. Some childhood toys and a handful of old trinkets, shelves dedicated to Pokemon and Neil Gaiman’s work, some references to Chicago and Polish heritage. My unhappiness with the situations of the present, while strengthened to an totally unnecessary degree, weren’t all inaccurate - and in combination with anhedonia and disgust, and the way I’d integrated this memorabalia into my sense of self even though they aren’t really relevant to me anymore, I found that I really really didn’t like my past or reminders of it. In a shocking unpredicted turn of tables, I no longer wanted to uphold who I once was, because it isn’t who I am now, and it’s not who I want to be.

And the revulsion of the past and the uncertain emptiness of the present culminates in a future that I feared, another emotion booted up to eleven. There was a big need to make my future and remake myself. The only places left comfort could be found were ones I hadn’t yet looked. At the same time I became sad in a powerful but vague way and desperately lonely - this part was definitely all the feral hormones - and I became obsessed, for a little while, with making sure that, when quarantine ends, I would get my social life in order. I preemptively joined groups and clubs in my local area online, which I’m still going to make good on later but maybe not to the all-encompassing extent I had in my mind at the time. Also, career hunting. (Also also, to combat a lack of control, I wanted to get my own place - but with the economy like That, and my ass like This, big alone time while also being very poor and probably overworked is not the best of ideas.)

So. The freak episode ended. And I knew. Both during. And afterwards. That I Do Not Want That to Happen Again. To put it lightly. So now I’m trying to find an antidepressant that works for me. I’ve been medicated for three weeks now. Lower anxiety, not many mood swings, but still anhedonia, and the aftertaste of existential dread which will forever haunt me. I’m completely overhauling my bedroom, because it was messy anyway and has basically looked the same since forever which can’t be good for my mental health. So there’s going to be new bedsheets (chocolate), new curtains to kill sunlight because while I enjoy it outdoors it makes the room feel exposed since the window is groundlevel and faces the street, a whole ass recliner thrifted for only 20 bucks(!) to go in a brand new study corner along with a nice aggressively patterned brown rug, and finally the grody offwhite walls will be repainted a warm inviting brown that was named “spiced cinnamon.” No matter what happens, I look forward to spending the winter in the study, invoking a cozy comfort the Danes call “hygge,” and hopefully building my gallery or participating in my interests, including fandom, in another way. And, once my budget allows it, getting some fucking therapy, what the fuck.

#long post #weezy lost their mind for a little while #so that's where I been #but at least I have motivation now #funny how fear can lead to positive changes like that

[soccernetghana]

How will football move on when Messi and Ronaldo retire?

Lionel Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo? It's the question that has defined a decade of football; the cause of innumerable arguments across the globe. In the age of social media, you are not allowed to appreciate both. You have to pick one or the other. And whom you chose apparently tells you a lot about how you view the game. As Luis Figo famously argued, it really is a question of taste: "It's like choosing between white truffle or caviar." Indeed, the one thing that everyone agrees on is that both are incredible; both belong in the conversation on the best player of all time. They are, after all, responsible for an unprecedented rivalry in the history of the game: two all-time greats on opposite sides of the Clasico divide for nine years, pushing one another to scale even greater heights. As Messi himself told DAZN: "It was a duel that will last forever because it went on for many years, and it isn’t easy to keep at your highest level for so long – especially at those two clubs we were at, which were so demanding, in Real Madrid and Barcelona, the best clubs in the world. "Competing head to head for so many years will be remembered forever. The sporting rivalry between us was very nice on a personal level. I think that the fans also enjoyed it, be they Madrid or Barca supporters, or just those who like football." It is not over yet, of course. Ronaldo and Messi may be 35 and 32, respectively, but they have yet to show any real signs of letting up. The Portuguese may have changed teams, leaving Real for Juventus in 2018, but the rivalry with Messi endures; the debate rages on – at least among their most ardent supporters. When Ronaldo transferred to Turin, his fans followed. Juventus' social media numbers skyrocketed, highlighting this new phenomenon of some supporters prioritising players over clubs. These very modern consumers of football have a favourite player – not a favourite team, which begs a far more pressing question than Messi or Ronaldo: What happens after the pair retire? Will football lose followers? The two greatest protagonists in the most absorbing drama of the past decade will have left the stage – will some of the audience leave before the next act? After all, how could anything top what has gone before? Ronaldo and Messi have distorted our perceptions of what is possible on a football field, making the extraordinary, ordinary. They have altered our idea of what constitutes an excellent goal-scoring season. Anything less than 50 goals a season could, in future, be construed as underwhelming. And that is the key here: consistency. "They've done it for so long," Spanish football writer Andy West told Goal. "They've barely taken a week off. They've both had the physical fitness to play 40 or 50 games a year. Neither of them have really had serious injuries problems, which is amazing in itself. If you go back over the history of the game, there are very, very few players who are able to sustain that excellence for so long. "Even if you look at players just from my lifetime, such as the Brazilian Ronaldo, he was the best player in the world at his peak, but he had so many injury problems that meant he was only at his greatest for a short period of time. "They've not given anybody else has had a look in. There have been lots and lots of great players over the past decade who would have previously had a claim on being the best player in the world but they've not even been close. I don't think anyone would dispute that. Nobody has been close to the level of Messi and Ronaldo." Hazard and Neymar? Not even someone like Eden Hazard. The Belgium international was one of the best players in the world for years, lighting up the Premier League with his wing wizardry at Chelsea. However, even Hazard has admitted that he is simply incapable of matching Ronaldo and Messi's numbers, as so painfully underlined by the 29-year-old's form and fitness issues in his first year at Real Madrid. "I often ask myself what I can do to become like Messi and Ronaldo and get 50 or 60 goals in a season," he confessed to Sport/Foot. I try, of course, but I realise that I will never be a true goalscorer like them. It's not in me. It is mainly mental: at 2-0, not thinking that is enough for example. Sometimes I still think after a goal, 'That's enough.' "I'm not in search of records like some other players – if I can score between 15 and 20 goals each season, I will be very happy." One could never imagine Messi or Ronaldo being content with such a tally. Of course, for the sake of narrative, they are portrayed as polar opposites: Messi is the quiet, unassuming genius who puts the team first; Ronaldo the self-made goal-scoring machine who takes as much pride in his appearance as his records. Both are crude caricatures, which do both a disservice. Messi can be as ruthless as Ronaldo; Ronaldo can be as magnanimous as Messi. In addition, they are bound not only by brilliance but also determination, an inner drive that has seen both make the absolute most of their considerable skills. Which is perhaps why Neymar is no longer the favourite to step into the spotlight when Messi and Ronaldo bow out. There have never been any doubts over the Brazilian's ability but his level of focus has long been a cause for concern. Neymar's situation has hardly improved in the interim. If anything, that storm has only worsened. As has his physical condition. Since moving to Paris Saint-Germain for a world-record fee in 2017, Neymar has been blighted by injuries and ill-discipline. At 28, his career path now looks more likely to follow that of Ronaldinho than Ronaldo, having, thus far, failed to strike the perfect balance between sporting and commercial growth. Time for Mbappe and Haaland? But what about the next generation? Kylian Mbappe and Erling Haaland are considered the frontrunners to fill the void that Messi and Ronaldo will leave behind. Both are extraordinary young talents. Mbappe is the only man other than Pele to have scored in a World Cup final as a teenager; Haaland is the youngest player in history to score 10 Champions League goals, having reached that mark in just seven matches. Their potential is as obvious as it is enormous. Questions remain, of course. Can they sustain their fine form? Will they avoid serious injuries? Will they be as dedicated to their profession as Messi and Ronaldo? Both are considered colourful characters. Haaland's former Red Bull Salzburg team-mate Maximilian Wober described the Norwegian to Goal as "crazy insane" yet recalled how the striker would spend his time on away trips "reading scientific articles on who he could improve his sleep pattern or diet" while the rest of the team were playing cards. In a similar vein, Mbappe once skipped a party in honour of Monaco's shock 2016-17 Ligue 1 title triumph so that he could get enough rest to be in peak physical condition for the following day's training session. The Frenchman was only a teenager back then, though, and there having been growing concerns about his allegedly egotistical behaviour since being taken under Neymar's wing in Paris, as underlined by his recent spats with PSG coach Thomas Tuchel. Mbappe has admitted himself that he is "not a hard worker" but is still regarded by journalists who follow the French league and national team closely as someone who simply loves playing football. As long as he retains that passion for the game, he should – like Haaland – continue to rack up record after record. Of course, it would be unfair to expect anyone to equal Messi or Ronaldo's remarkable strike-rates. Or carry the game into a new era, for that matter. Besides, it's not as if the Messi-Ronaldo rivalry has been the only show in town over the past 10 to 15 years. Messi has never played in the Premier League, while Ronaldo left in 2009 – yet the English top-flight is by some distance the most watched and, consequently, the richest championship in club football. There are, of course, many reasons for its global popularity: the sheer pace of the game separates it from its European rivals; what it loses in quality, it makes up for in frenzied entertainment. In addition, the almost total absence of running tracks around its pitches only accentuates the raucous atmosphere generated by the massive and passionate crowds found with its modern stadia. England changed its practices and image following the Heysel and Hillsborough tragedies of the 1980s, and reaped the rewards. With the advent of the Premier League in 1992, English football became a perfectly packaged product expertly sold to audiences across the globe by BSkyB and, in turn, the further riches bestowed upon clubs by the sale of overseas TV rights enabled the acquisition of some of the most talented and charismatic characters in football. All of this, coupled with the sport's innate capacity for unscripted drama, made the Premier League compelling viewing. Essentially, football faces a far more pressing concern than the imminent retirement of two living legends, with the Covid-19 pandemic having plunged the game into financial crisis that represents a very real existential threat for clubs and leagues across the world. By its very nature, though, football is a simple game. Its popularity will not be dimmed by the pandemic; if anything, it may be enhanced by it, as people become even more appreciative of a sport that can be played by anyone with a ball. So, if football can survive Covid-19, it can survive the loss of Messi and Ronaldo. The show will go on. But so too will the debate over who was better: Messi or Ronaldo? There will never be an agreement, of course, but that is beside the point. As Messi says, his rivalry with Ronaldo is a duel that will last forever. Source: m.allfootballapp.com source: https://ghanasoccernet.com/

[jgroffdaily]

Jonathan Groff is not, he says, “a serial killer sort of person”, which will probably come as a relief to the millions of adoring families who know him best in wholesome animated form, as the voice of mountain-dwelling ice harvester Kristoff in Disney’s Frozen.

What drew the 34-year-old actor – nominated for a Tony for his Broadway performance as Melchior Gabor in Spring Awakening and his scene-stealing turn as King George III in Hamilton – to the dark, murder-heavy Netflix drama Mindhunter was, he says, precisely what a radical departure it was from his previous roles.

His FBI profiler Holden Ford is, as he puts it: “This corn-fed, all-American, earnest Midwestern guy, having an existential crisis, finding meaning and purpose while talking to incarcerated sociopathic murderers.” Groff tells me all this, it should be noted, with an enormous grin. Apparently, the only major note that David Fincher, Mindhunter’s director, ever has for his leading man is to stop smiling so much. “[Fincher] would be like, ‘We’re rolling, and, Jonathan, stop smiling. And you’re still smiling, you’re still smiling, and… action.’”

Television, of course, hardly needs another FBI drama, but what elevates Mindhunter above the procedural is not only Fincher’s precision direction, but also the tension inherent in Ford’s mission. Set in the late Seventies and based on the career of real-life FBI profiler and “serial killer whisperer” John Douglas, “Holden is pushing for understanding and curiosity, rather than simply dismissing these killers as crazy,” says Groff. Using the emerging social sciences of criminology and psychology, he hopes to gain some understanding of what motivates these apparent monsters.

The first series saw Ford interviewing notorious murderers Richard Speck, Ed Kemper and Jerry Brudos; season two, which begins this week, will delve into the Atlanta Child Murders (in which an estimated 28 children were killed between 1979 and 1981), and see the protagonist land an interview with “the rock star of the serial killer world”, Charles Manson.

There is also the added layer of Ford’s personal development; over the first season, he grew from a buttoned-up boy scout (literally drinking milk from the bottle in an early episode) into a skilful manipulator of his subjects; some critics have gone further and accused him of sociopathy.

“I never saw Holden as a sociopathic character, but he definitely wants to win,” says Groff. I agree about the sociopathy but, I suggest, Holden is perhaps guilty of wielding empathy as a weapon. “Yeah, I love that – weaponising empathy!” Groff cries, excitedly. “That might be the title of my autobiography.”

It’s early on a Friday morning in Los Angeles and, in spite of the unusually anti-social call time, Groff, boyishly handsome and sipping on a Diet Coke, is infectiously bouncy and Tiggerish. During the filming of Mindhunter, he has, he tells me, been listening to the audiobook of Fosse, Sam Wasson’s bestselling biography of the legendary Broadway choreographer and film director, on which the current show Fosse/Verdon was initially based. After finishing the book, he went back and watched all of Fosse’s films.

“He does such a good job of capturing that drug of being on stage, and the sadness that you get when you come off stage,” he says. “The huge rush of performing and the let-down afterwards. I get both happy and depressed about it. I don’t want to love it this much, but then I do, but I want also to have perspective.” He waves his hands in the air as if to bat away his only apparent torture: loving this job, which he is incredibly good at, a little too much.

Groff grew up in Pennsylvania, in a conservative, Methodist family, but his parents encouraged his theatrical ambitions, driving him several hours each way to audition for musicals in New York City. He won a place in a touring performance of The Sound of Music and deferred his spot at Carnegie Mellon University. At 20, he was cast in Spring Awakening, earning his first Tony nomination at 21, in 2007.

Television roles followed in Glee, The Normal Heart and Looking, the critically acclaimed but short-lived HBO drama about the lives of gay men in San Francisco. His parents, he tells me, “didn’t watch that one”.

Openly gay himself, in Mindhunter Groff is playing straight, in a role that features a solid amount of sex scenes as well as psychosexual content. Ryan Murphy, his former showrunner at Glee, and the creator of Pose and The People vs OJ Simpson, was so moved to see this, Groff tells me, that he rang to congratulate him.

“He got really emotional about it, partly, I think, because when he first met me [Groff made a pilot with him during Spring Awakening, which was never picked up] I was still in the closet. Then I came out, owned my identity and, thankfully, still get to play all different kinds of parts. Ryan said: ‘I know that it was something you were scared about, but you worked through your fear, and now here you are, getting to do this amazing show, and not being defined by your sexual orientation.’”

Did he really worry that if he came out he’d never be given a “straight” role again? “Totally,” Groff cries, slapping his thighs. “No agents or producers had ever said: ‘Don’t come out of the closet, it will ruin your career,’ but it was an unspoken thing. And there were no out gay movie stars as examples. But then I fell in love, at 23. And I thought, ‘OK, if I come out, and I only do off-Broadway plays for the rest of my life, I am totally happy with that – that’s what I moved to New York for. So maybe I won’t be a romantic lead in a movie – who cares? I would rather be doing cool stuff with people who don’t give a f--- than pretend to be someone I am not.’”

Happily, that couldn’t be further from the case. While filming the second season of Mindhunter in Pittsburgh, he’s been simultaneously reprising his role as Kristoff for Frozen 2, due out in November. “It was the dream,” he beams. “To be able to sit with Charles Manson, and then drive to New York to pretend to be in a blizzard, singing a Disney song.”

But, in truth, he’s never really stopped being Kristoff. “I make Voice Memos for kids,” he reveals. “I sing for them and do the reindeer voice, which they get really excited about. I do a lot of King George Voice Memos too, actually.”

He was in Hamilton for only two months, in the spring of 2015, but made enough of an impact with his campy, knowing performance, to earn another Tony nomination.

“It was like being in the eye of the storm,” he says of his spell in the Broadway phenomenon. “I listened to the Bill Gates Desert Island Discs the other day; he has My Shot from Hamilton as his final song. And I thought, ‘Oh my god, that’s right, I met Bill Gates – he came to the show.’ You really can’t take it in, in the moment, but looking back, I’m like, ‘Wow, I really met Beyoncé?’”

Given his experience in voicing Frozen, one might assume Groff would be a dab hand at recording audiobooks. Not so, he says. When he was asked to record the audio for John Douglas’s latest non-fiction book (his 13th), The Killer Across the Table, “it was SO hard,” he says. “So much harder than I thought it was going to be. I never made it through one page without f------ up.” It did mean, however, that he finally got to meet the legendary FBI agent in person. “We’d emailed before, but getting to meet him was a great moment. He loves the show, and even talks about it in the book that I recorded.”

This second series is launching at a moment of renewed obsession with Manson, thanks to the 50th anniversary of the murder of Sharon Tate, and the release of Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. I wonder out loud whether the period that Mindhunter explores, when serial killers began to be studied seriously, was also the moment that they also began to be glamorised in popular culture.

“Yes, David and the writers try to address that question. You have Holden, who is a sycophant and obsessed with Manson, and you have the Bill Tench character [Ford’s FBI colleague, played by Holt McCallany], who is like: ‘Dude, these people are disgusting and deplorable.’

“David is uninterested in creating conversation in which any one person is right and any one person is wrong,” says Groff. “He likes to hold a bunch of different perspectives at the same time. That’s what makes it worth working on, that’s what makes it worth watching.”    

Mindhunter, series one 
and two, are available 
on Netflix  

#jonathan groff #interview #press #!

[unpack-my-heart]

The Ghost of You

A new Reddie AU featuring property developer Richie and ghost Eddie. I know I have other unfinished stories but I’ve been working on this today as a distraction from various things and thought I’d post it. 

Read it on AO3 HERE

or I’ve also posted it under the cut:

Preview:

The first time Richie sees him, he falls out of a window.

It’s about ten at night, and Richie is painting the grilles on his open bedroom window with the night breeze caressing his face. He’s got the radio on, but every so often the music is suddenly replaced by harsh static that screams into the room for five or six seconds, before the music starts up again like nothing had happened. Richie doesn’t pay attention to it, assuming it’s to do with the terrible reception, until the radio howls like a banshee. When he turns around, he’s met with the sight of a man dressed in an old-fashioned looking khaki uniform who is squatting next to the radio on the floor, and staring at it intently.

Richie promptly jumps, before stumbling backwards, and falling out of the window.

@constantreaderfool @xandertheundead

Richie’s first love is stand-up comedy. He spends most of his adolescent years with his eyes glued to the flickering TV screen, watching late night comedies protected by a blanket of darkness, ready to charge straight up the stairs should he hear the familiar pounding of his father’s footsteps coming down the stairs.

Richie always assumed he’d become a stand-up comedian, or something similar. His mother was forever smiling at him with this dopy, indulgent grin.

‘You should be on the stage, child’, she always told him.

He believes her.

Standing on stage, in front of a sea of squawking, laughing faces. The I did that in your stomach, the I made these people happy.

It doesn’t work out, though. Richie gets horrendous stage-fright, and runs straight off the stage clutching his stomach the first time he attends an open-mic at his local late night coffee shop. It doesn’t make sense. His mom says he’s funny, Bev says he’s funny, the waitress at the diner that does those paprika fries he loves says he's funny (but maybe she’s just being kind and trying to get him to leave a decent tip. He always does.)

He isn’t too cut up about it though. Shit happens. So he leaves stand-up comedy to the professionals, and proceeds to have a minor existential crisis about the direction his life is going in.

His father starts getting a bit impatient, not because he’s frustrated that Richie didn’t go to college, or because Richie is leeching off them or anything remotely similar, but because it cuts him up inside to see his nearly-20-year old son so morose and directionless. So he takes him to work with him.

Wentworth Tozier works as an architect in a small firm in Maine. It’s mainly small domestic projects, the occasional corporate one. Nothing too major. Small houses, buildings to put a new Subway in. Richie is entranced. He loves going with his dad to the sites, he can practically see the cogs in his father’s brain spin and whir as he envisages how he’ll turn this small patch of wasteland into someone’s private sanctuary. Richie decides immediately that he wants a part of this.

Richie apprentices with his father. His dad agrees easily, ecstatic that his son is so enamoured with the field that claimed his own heart when he was pre-college and panicking about where his own life would lead. Richie doesn’t want to go to college, so he can’t become an accredited architect, but that doesn’t matter. Richie isn’t interested in modelling power sockets and skirting boards on the computer. Richie dreams of moulding timber, brick and concrete with his own bare hands, sculpting and crafting and carving out a small piece of perfection.

Property development, is what his father tells him it’s called. He’d be a renovator, and Richie decides that that word sits very nicely indeed on the end of his tongue.

He starts off small. An tired-looking apartment with creaking bones and a dusty sigh. Richie tears out the connecting wall between the lounge and the kitchen, allowing the small space to inhale a much-needed breath of fresh air. He extends the bathroom into the needlessly large master (and only) bedroom, and removes the garish pink ceramic bath, replacing it with a walk in shower. A lick of paint here, a sprinkling of tile here, a dash of wallpaper and some new faux-marble countertops. His father claps him on the back when he sees the finished product. ‘you’ve done good, kid’. Richie knew this was what he was made for.

He’s 28 when he starts feeling the first pinches of boredom at the soles of his feet, 30 when his stomach aches slightly when he wakes up in the morning before work, and 34 when he decides that it isn’t enough for him anymore.

His father, now retired and living off a very comfortable pension, offers to lend him some money while he figures out what he wants to do next. Richie grumbles for a few weeks, feeling uncomfortable about taking his dads money. He uhms and ahhs about it, waxing poetic to Bev in the bar after work about how property development wasn’t sparking the pilot light in his soul quite like it used to. Bev nodded sympathetically, and made comforting hums at all the right intervals. Richie left the bar five times drunker and fifty times more appreciative for her friendship.

He’s 36 when he decides to move to Scotland.

He’s been considering it for a while. Find a derelict church, or a run-down old manor house, buy it for an eye-wateringly cheap price, live in it, renovate it, and flip it. A two year project, max. Something to get his teeth into and stave off the anxious dreams that have him shooting up in bed at night, face sticky with sweat and heart beating with ‘this can’t be it, please say this isn’t it’.

His relationship with Jasmine had broken down. She couldn’t understand why Richie was so restless, why he’d toss and turn at night instead of hunkering down into the cosy nest of safe, steady, predictable. He didn’t blame her. He knew it was frustrating. Hell, he was frustrated. They ended it pretty amicably. A few tears on both sides, a half-hearted promise to remain friends. Richie knew they wouldn’t. He didn’t really mind.

He’d been half-cut and half-asleep when he’d stumbled on it. A beautiful 19th century building on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. It had originally been an orphanage, before changing hands and purpose multiple times over the years. School, a brief stint as a police station, before it was abandoned in 1947, just after the war. The building is on the lip of a lake, and sits nestled comfortably into a small hillock. The brickwork is run down, patches of orange lichen growing excitedly across the otherwise grey surface. There are two working chimneys emerging from the slate roof that connected to two working fire-places. There’s a small porch connected to the front door, and a back door in the kitchen that leads out into an unfenced back garden. It’s ugly, and sits tired and unassuming against the harsh bracken moors of Scotland, not a neighbour in sight. Richie is immediately besotted with it.

He phones Bev, not caring that it’s nearly 3am and he’s definitely still drunk and is probably definitely somewhat delusional. She picks up on the fifth ring.

“what the fuck, Rich, it’s arse o’clock in the morning. Are you dying? If you’re not dying you’re gonna wish you were”

“I found it”

“Huh? Found what? If you found your lost sock and decided to ring me to tell me, I swear to god, Trashmouth, I’m gonna gut you, you –“

“No, Jesus Red, no. I found it. I found the one”

“the one? You mean that dude you were grinding on yesterday? I mean, he was kinda weird looking, wasn’t he? Looked a bit like a trout. But if you think he’s the one I guess –“

“Can it, Marsh. One, I wasn’t talking about him but oh my god he totally looks like a trout and two, I mean, the house”

“Shit. The house?”

“Yup”

“The house, the house? You mean – THE house?”

“Yes!”

“Holy shit. Where is it?”

“…”

“Rich…”

“Scotland”

“Holy shit”

“I know”

Getting a visa is about as much of a nightmare as Richie expects. It takes forever, and every day he checks the real estate website, sweaty palms and palpitating heart, expecting the little house on the moor to have disappeared from the internet. It never does.

After about four months, and tearful goodbyes to Beverly at the airport, Richie’s on a plane to Scotland. His parents were initially hugely sceptical, lecturing him on the dangers of buying a property without viewing it, and lamenting about how much they’ll miss him when he’s thousands of miles away. They don’t try to stop him though.

Richie spends most of plane ride jittering in his seat. He ends up sat next to a Scottish woman, who balances her tiny daughter on her knee. Richie smiles at the tiny redheaded girl and she smiles back at him, all gums and no teeth. He falls asleep half an hour before they land.

He hires a car at Edinburgh airport. The drive takes him around six hours, a combination of busy main roads and winding country tracks that split the Scottish landscape like veins. He sails over the Skye bridge, and he’s only an hour or two away from paradise.

When he’s about twenty minutes away, he starts getting panicky. He’d spoken to the letting agent at length over Skype, and they’d emailed him a list of all the things that would need fixing, or replacing. It was a very long list. When Richie had received the list he’d not been able to see it as anything other than a challenge, something to get his teeth into. Something to occupy his restless brain. Now though, the list sat like lead in his pocket.

The house sits at the end of an unkempt muddy track, standing alone amongst the foliage. Richie pulls himself out of the car, stretching his aching arms behind his head.

He stares at the house.

The house looks back at him.

He rings his dad.

“y’ello?”

“Hey, Dad”

“Rich! Did you make it okay, laddy?”

“Och, aye!”

“Your Scottish accent is as awful as mine”

“I know”

“How is she?”

“She’s beautiful”

“Need a lot of TLC?”

“More than I think I’m capable of giving her”

“Hey, now. Where’s that trade-mark Richie confidence? Or, should I say, trade-mark Richie arrogance?”

“You’re supposed to be giving me a pep-talk, old man”

“I know, I know. You’ve got it, kid. You know you do. I’ll come out and visit you in a few months, maybe stay for a few weeks. Scotland is supposed to be real nice in the summer. Save some of the really tricky parts until then, okay? I don’t want you to hurt yourself”

“Your concern is touching”

“Richie, I’m serious”

“I know”

“Your mother misses you already”

“I bet she does, now she’s only got you for company”

“I miss you”

“I know”

“I’m here for you. Even half way across the world. You’re my boy”

“love you, dad”

“Knock ‘em dead, son”

Beep beep beep beep

The house stands in front of him, silently waiting. The wild, windy moors stretch far away.

Richie doesn’t do anything to the house for a few days. He drives nearly two hours to the nearest town, and stocks up on all the tools and equipment he thinks he’ll need, before quickly realising that he’ll need to take a trip to one of the larger cities to buy the more expensive materials. He imagines the postal services out in the middle of nowhere leave much to be desired.

The house is much louder than he expected it to be. The moors are noisy, rustling leaves and bleating sheep and wind that whips through your skin and freezes your bones. The house is nearly as loud. Everything creaks, and moans and sighs, loud protests against whatever Richie happens to be doing, whether walking up the stairs or throwing logs into the burner.

He starts working on it four days after he moves in.

The first time Richie sees him, he falls out of a window.

It’s about ten at night, and Richie is painting the grilles on his open bedroom window with the night breeze caressing his face. He’s got the radio on, but every so often the music is suddenly replaced by harsh static that screams into the room for five or six seconds, before the music starts up again like nothing had happened. Richie doesn’t pay attention to it, assuming it’s to do with the terrible reception, until the radio howls like a banshee. When he turns around, he’s met with the sight of a man dressed in an old-fashioned looking khaki uniform who is squatting next to the radio on the floor, and staring at it intently.

Richie promptly jumps, before stumbling backwards, and falling out of the window.

When Richie comes to, he’s lying on the ground directly below the window he fell out of.

There’s a pillow under his head.

The second time Richie sees him, he pours boiling water all over his foot.

It’s been a few weeks since Richie fell out of the window. He’s forgotten about the man in the khaki uniform that he thought he saw looking at his radio, having convinced himself that it must have been a figment of his overtired imagination.

The house is still, for all intents and purposes, unliveable. There is no hot water, there is no gas, and Richie has to go to the toilet in trenches he digs in the middle of the woodland a few minutes’ walk from the back door. He has never been happier.

He’s knocked a few walls through, the downstairs is now an open plan space, and he’s ordered a new bathroom suite that is supposed to arrive today, along with a plumber that he found online. His name is Mike Hanlon, and he’s lived in the Isle of Skye his whole life.

When Mike arrives, he’s joined with a collie who Mike affectionately calls Mr Chips. Richie scratches the dog behind the ears, and receives a few licks to the inside of his wrist for his trouble.

Mike helps Richie haul the constituent parts of the bathroom suite up the rickety stair case, and Richie is overjoyed to discover that Mike doesn’t complain once. Richie leaves Mike in the bathroom, tinkering with the pipes connected to the old, broken ceramic toilet, and begins to make them both cups of tea using a camping stove connected to a gas cannister he’d bought when he’d been in town.

He’s pouring water from the small camping kettle into Mike’s mug (breakfast tea, no milk, no sugar, thanks, Rich!) when Richie catches sight of the man in the khaki uniform, turning the ring  on the gas cannister with a hesitant finger.

Richie startles, the force of which sends his arm flailing through the air, and sends the contents of the kettle sailing through the air in a graceful arc before landing on his foot.

Richie curses, grabbing the bottle of cold water sat on the worktop, and quickly proceeds to pour the contents over his poor, red raw foot.

When he looks up again, the man has gone.

One of the other bottles of water has upended itself on a cloth, however. Richie doesn’t think anything of it when he grabs the soaking wet cloth and wraps it around his foot.

The third time Richie sees him, he learns his name.

A month later, Mike has finished the bathroom. The plaster on the walls is still white and unpainted, and the floor hasn’t been properly tiled yet, but the bath, sink and toilet has been replaced, and Richie was half way through wiring the extractor fan. Mike had kindly agreed to stay on and help Richie replace the kitchen sink, and install the washing machine and tumble dryer. Richie was elated. He’d grown close with Mike quickly, and he loved listening to Mike’s stories about Scottish folklore. Richie listened to Mike talk for hours about kelpies and the loch ness monster and never found himself drifting off.

Soon enough, they broached the topic of ghosts.

“Do you believe in ghosties then, Mikey?” Richie asks, the man in the khaki uniform a vivid picture in his mind.

“Well, they say that energy cannot be created nor destroyed, right? That’s an important element of the physics of life, so, I can’t accept that when we die we just … disappear, and all that energy just leaks into the air? Where would it go?”

“I dunno, back into the ground?”

“Nah, I don’t reckon so. I reckon it’s gotta go somewhere else. I reckon our consciousness, like, the thing that makes us truly us, escapes our physical bodies when they run out of energy and become something else. Maybe we become light. Maybe we become oxygen, I don’t know.”

“So you don’t believe in ghosts in the sense that you don’t believe we can walk around as physical manifestations of how our physical bodies looked, then?”

“I just dunno, Rich. We probably will never know. Here – hand me that spanner, this bolt is being a feckin’ nightmare”

Richie thought about what Mike had said for a long time.

The third time Richie sees him, he learns his name.

When Mike had left for the evening, Richie waded into the shallow lake, water lapping around the tops of his rubber boots. He threw small pebbles into the water. Plip Plip Plip. The moor was uncharacteristically silent. He stared down into the water.

The reflection of the man dressed in the khaki uniform stared back at him.

Richie turned around.

The man in the khaki uniform was stood next to him, wringing his hands, his brow furrowed.

Richie swallowed.

“Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Eddie”

“Why d’ya keep letting yourself into my house, Eddie?”

Richie fought against his quivering voice to keep his tone stern and challenging.

“I – I don’t. It’s hard to explain. What year is it?”

“Uh… what?"

“What year is it?”

“Are you on drugs or something, dude? Lost on your way back from a costume party?”

“Please, just tell me, what year is it?"

“2019”

“Ah”

“What’d’ya mean, ‘ah’?”

“I mean, I haven’t seen anyone in this house since 1947”

“… Dude you cannot be over 70 fucking years old. Stop bullshitting me, just tell me the truth and I promise I won’t get Mike to impale you on one of those rubber poles he keeps in his van”

“I’m not over 70. I'm 38 – I was 38.”

“Well, how do you know no one’s been in this house since 1947? And what do you mean, you 'were' 38?”

“Because I’ve been here on my own since 1947”

“You’re still not making any sense, my man”

Eddie rubbed his hand over his face, and sighed.

“You won’t believe me, so there isn’t much point”

“Try me”

“I worked here. This place was used as an evacuation safe house for children from across Scotland, but mainly Edinburgh and Glasgow. They were moved here to escape the bombing. I worked here as a doctor, I cared for the children. I – I died here.”

“What do you mean, you died here?”

“I was stabbed”

“hang on – bombing? To escape bombing?”

Richie could barely breathe.

“Yes, bombing.”

“… And you said you haven’t seen anyone here since 1947”

“That is correct”

“So, what you’re telling me is that –"

“Yes”

“You’re …”

“I am”

Richie doesn’t reply. He turns around, and walks back into the house.

When he shuts the door, the lake glitters like a pool of liquid mercury. Eddie has gone.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #the ghost of you #ao3 #thefutureisbright

[blogaboutmusic]

all the playlists !

did this a while ago, but my spotify changed so much that i decided to do it again, and also because i have a lot of new followers! thank you & thank you if you follow my playlists! Be sure to check the list out bc i have a playlist for almost every genre & mood!

● ✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ* existential crisis:  everything i have that is sad ● 2019 ; letz getit: music i discovered so far in 2019 / music that is important to me in 2019 ● 20(18)GAYTEEN: every album that came out in 2018 (at least of artists i like) ● 20(19)BITEEN: every album that came out in 2019 (/artist i like :) ) ● 5sᴏs ; complete: i think the title says it all ● ａｌｉｅｎｓ: a mix full of alt. songs. dope. 10/10 recommend to aliens ● all of it ; alternative ?: stuff that is alt but not quite, pop punk but not quite, rock but not quite, etc! ● all of it ; emo music: EVERYTHING YOU NEED. EVERYTHING SAD. EVERYTHING ANGRY. EVERYTHING GUITAR. pop-punk punk-rock emo/rock indie/alternative ● all of it ; k-pop: all the k-pop music that I listen to, stuffed into one mix. ● ᴀʟʟ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴡ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: all of all time low’s music ● angry k-pop bops: a playlist that was inspired by district 9 of stray kids ● autumn, baby: perfect songs for fall! ● back to the future: idk some albums that i love listening to that go really well together ● bandito tour ; twenty one pilots: a playlist for an upcoming concert ● b͓̽a͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽h͓̽a͓̽n͓̽: a playlist for my bias of stray kids! ● ʙᴀɴɢᴛᴀɴɢ sᴏɴʏᴇᴏɴᴅᴀɴ ; ʙᴛs: all of bts’ music in one playlist ● best intro's, no argue: okay but really 505 is one of the best songs ever don’t fight me on that one ● bi bops: actually it doesnt matter if you’re gay, straight, pan or bi, these all work. just bops. ● b-sides, : songs i tend to forget about because i mostly listen to other songs on the albums... but they deserve the world so there you go ● 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖒𝖊: kinda angry, kinda alternative. ● bon voyage: i listened to this a lot when i went to paris and when i have to travel a lot. travel worthy. ● bop that Bussy ; emo version: FAV EMO JAMS AND BOPS AND BANGERS ● bring me the horizon ; complete : all of bmth’s music ● bts amsterdam 13.10.18: SETLIST ly tour amsterdam but also europe. i miss them a lot & wanna thank them for one of my best nights ever

● calm my anxious ass: what i need when i’m breaking down & alone again ● chanyeol (っ◔◡◔)っ: a playlist for my exo bias, mostly english sung songs though ● chilly billy doobop: so nice to have as background music or for when there’s a friend over. just ever so fckn CHILL ● classical // piano: classical music, mostly piano ● current mood: songs i’m probably listening to right now (lmao still) ● daniel james howell: a playlist for my fav youtuber!!! ● daydream: my playlist with music that makes me dream for a better version of me ● ᴅᴀʏ6 ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: every day6 song ever. stan talent stan day6 ● death / school mix: songs about dying & other relatable stuff for school, ha ha ● dizzy tummy: stuff i listen to strolling through the city or being in a specific trainride ● dope on a rope: no, this isn't a playlist for the growlers' song, it's old beats. ● emo & alternative: sum emo tunes! totally random *insert that one crazy emoji with the tongue out* ● energize this tired bub: upbeat tempo music that really energizes me ● energetic appleflap: playlist for a friend (that i have crush on) ● eɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀᴘᴀʀᴋꜱ: music i  listened to before & after my waterparks concert + every waterparks song ever & the setlist ● ᴇxᴏ ; xᴏxᴏ: exo complete. please give us a ot9 comeback ● exploring: stuff i have yet to listen to ● fᴀʟʟ ᴏᴜᴛ ʙᴏʏ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: all of FOB’s music. can you believe i’m still emo trash? ● frickity freck!: fresh alt-ish music ● fuck me up: a ReAlLy gOoD aLterNaTiVe / IndiE / eMo playlist? ● funky dunky business: the bass in these is mostly really mcflipping good ● geez, morty: playlist for fake friends ● ɢᴏᴛ7 ; ᴀʜɢᴀsᴇ: all of got7 their music ● ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴀʏ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: all of green day aka my fav band their music ! every.thing. ● grrr. : just metal and grunge. heavy shit ● guitars: really good guitars like guns ‘n roses & beatles and just guitars that i love??? ● guns  n' roses setlist: setlist g ‘n r Europe 2017 ● halsey: indie artist, all her music in a playlist ● happy vibes: music that makes me smile!! ● hoe anthems (k-pop ver.); k-pop bops that make me go wanna hoe the heck out ● homework // calm: music i listen to when i make homework ● hug me pls: acoustic songs i wanna listen to while cuddling ● i’m a mess: a good, short playlist i- lol- unironically made when i discovered Michael Clifford had a girlfriend lmao i hope theyre happy they deserve it ● i, an intellectual: a nerd: music from movies and series i really dig ● interactive introverts: music they played and i listened to before interactive introverts ● jae = bae: this one goes out to jae, guitarist and vocal legend in the band day6 ● jazzin' away: jazz, my friend. ● j-pop ; rock 'n soul: my favourite j-pop songs!! yes, that includes all one ok rock songs. ● journal writings: i attempt to keep up a journal. this gives me vibes. sometimes a bit more uptempo, but mostly a bit softer ● judith.eliza: for a friend ● jughead's tape: for jughead jones, of riverdale ● just guitars, nothing else.: just acoustic guitars of some of my fav songs, really good for while studying i think ● k-grooves: korean r&b and indie ● k-pop ; essential jams: my favourite k-pop songs, which are quite a lot! ● k-pop ; girls: all my girl groups’ music ● k-rock ; you make myday: all my favourite k-rock songs, yes that includes every day6 song because they are just that good sorry ● last young renegade tour: music i listened to before & after my all time low concert + the setlist ●  letters to you: songs that made me think of my crush. i think people can realate? ● let there be luf: some new alt, sum songs about love ● lilacskyjimin ; fav: playlist for a friend ● lone hours: in: feeling lonely? we do, too, dont worry. youre not alone. ● mama: stuff i grew up with / stuff my mother and i both like ● marina & the diamonds: apperantly she’s only called marina now? one of the best female singers i know, indie as f*ck ● ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ; 5sos:  playlist for the 5sos concert, setlist and the songs in between! ● micmicbudgee ; fav: playlist for a friend ● mom jeans, tired eyes: mostly 70s and 80s BOPS ● ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴀ x ; ᴍᴏɴʙᴇʙᴇ: all of monsta x’s music in a playlist ● muse ; complete: all of alt rock band muse their songs ● my chemical romance ; complete: emo rock band mcr all of their music ● my youngblood chronicals: alt rock songs. the reason why i’m still fighting ● nederlandse bodem: my favourite Dutch songs! ● ɴᴇᴏ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴇᴄʜɴᴏʟᴏɢʏ ; ɴᴄᴛ: nct complete, in a playlist ● nienisneckdeep ; fav: playlist for a friend ● nights: songs i like to listen to before going to sleep ● noa.myg: fav: another playlist for a friend ● non-english bops: jewish, french, spanish, swedish, irish and celtic music like omnia (which is partly english but i think it fits here so tough luck) ● one ok rock ; complete: one ok rock is a japanese rock band that sings in english in their latest work ● ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ! ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪsᴄᴏ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: all of panic! at the disco’s music in a playlist ● paramore ; complete: paramore was a punk rock band with a female singer, and now they make alt rock ● paris: a playlist for a city that i miss, a time that i miss ● ᴘᴇɴᴛᴀɢᴏɴ ; ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ: aka all of k-pop group Pentagon their music in a playlist ● pizza punk: waterparks, neck deep, with con and music like that. perfect for skating eheh ● power vocals: beautiful voices ! voices that make me jealous ● problems with sleeping: lovely alt songs, some of them are about not being able to sleep ● queen discography: you know that movie, bohemian rhapsody..? ● rad activist shit: end gun violence. black lives matter. abortions should be legal, pedophiles and rapists should not be able to walk free. oh and love is love, get over it. angry songs, songs about revolution. ● rainbow: love songs, some sad (rain), some ever so happy (sun). together they make a rainbow ● red hot chili peppers: the red hot chili peppers are rock band and if you dont know them, look them up!! ● revolution radio 2017: music i listened to before & after my green day concert + the setlist ● rev up my spaceship, bois: modern hard rock in a playlist! ● sad boi o’clock: another sad playlist, you can never have enough of these ● sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ; sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ: seventeens (k-pop) complete music discography ● skylinn ; khaleesiqoyi: first playlist i made for a friend: my best friend ● slytherin headgirl: this is what the people in slytherin listen to, i swear ● socrates would deffo stan: indie and alt, only for intellectuals (i’m just kidding) ● soft; rock™: soft (old) rock ● soft; k-pop: for if you wanna weep along with exo, bts,, etc ● soundtrack of my life 🌙: the basics to my music ● space jams 🚀: most songs are about wanting to run away, perfect for when you’re in space ● spoopy rave: i secretly listen to this through the year, idec ● starry skies, snazzy beats: mostly cute beats, perfect for studying or staring at the sky ● sᴛᴀʏ ; sᴛʀᴀʏ ᴋɪᴅs !: all of stray kids songs, go stan them already and please stay ● stranger things: songs that give me a stranger things vibe ● supernatural ; rock & grunge: stuff Dean Winchester would listen to, blue oyster cult, aerosmith, black sabbath, stuff like that ● tae tae: a playlist for v of bts, one of my biases ● the 1975: an alt band, latest work: an brief inquiry into online relationships ● the neighbourhood: very chill music. kinda rap, kinda alt ● these physically turn me on: really, really good songs, or nice vocals, idk how to explain ● tits out for harambe: the closest thing i have to pop music / rap i guess, with khai dreams, frank ocean, childish gambino, ari, troye, ya know ● tokyo: a playlist for dreaming about the feeling of a city ● travel back in time: 50s, 60s music, stuff i listen to with my grandpa but also alone cuz its fun ● twenty øne piløts ; complete: all of twenty one pilots their music ● underappreciated alt songs: alternative songs that i think deserve (even more) hype! ● waterparks ; complete: nice new pop punk band that deffo has a lot of talent! ● when the week ends: a mix for the weekend ● wubbalubbadubdub: old bops that make me forget about my sadness ● year in review: 2018: music i discovered in 2018 / music that was important to me in 2018 / songs that came out in 2018 ● yoongi: songs where you can sing yoongi really clearly and songs that make me think of him ● you’re making me feel miserable: songs i listened to after i confessed to my crush and he turned me down sksksksk

please reblog, it helps my blog a lot, tysm

#music #playlist #all of the playlists #fall out boy #green day #bts #exo #stray kids #day6 #Twenty One Pilots #rock #alt #alternative #waterparks #yoongi #taehyung #bang chan #jae #old rock #beatles #kpop #emo #Panic at the Disco #Panic! at the Disco #beats #sad #spn #supernatural #Dan and Phil #dan howell

[tessatechaitea]

New Titans #114

This is it! The last regular issue of this comic that I own!

I guess the changing of the guard leaving Arsenal in charge was the last straw for me. Or maybe the last straw was that Pantha's tail hole on her shorts never ripped so that I could see her butthole. One of those two reasons is definitely why I stopped buying this comic though. This issue is called "24 Hours" which makes me think of Gaiman's The Sandman which makes me think, "Why the fuck am I rereading this shit when I could be rereading that shit?!" Oh wait! I actually know the reason for this! It's because these Titans comic books were stored in a big old regular sized moving box that I wanted to get out of the way! Also I've reread The Sandman and I've never reread this. And since I'll be fifty in a little over two years, I should probably get all of the stupid time-wasting bullshit ideas out of my head now. Any writing projects I can't finish by the time I'm fifty, I'm abandoning. At that time, I'll just make up new ones that will only entertain me and a few other people. So if I've ever said anything in passing about something I was going to do, like finishing the Goggles Futures End story or my Fantastickal Fuck-Fighting Books, you'd better get your vote in now! The issue begins at midnight with Changeling getting his ass beat by a dark silhouette who claims Changeling promised to "end her living days." I don't know who that might be or why this is happening. With Zero Hour beginning right around this time, my comic books might become complete nonsense. I just have to hope the comic books involved in that non-crisis-labeled crisis will have "Zero Hour Tie-in" labels on the front. I probably don't understand what's going on in this one because Marv Wolfman is being artsy. And fuck if I know anything about art! I read comic books for a reason, people! At 1:10 AM, Starfire flies around wondering if Earth is really her home. Yes, it takes six panels for her to ask that question. But she's also being artsy in a poetic way! She uses phrases like "scarlet sea" and "delicious nectar" and "golden skies." It's almost as if somebody scoffed at Marv Wolfman when he mentioned he wrote comic books earlier in the week and he thought, "I'll show them!" Then he was all, "Hey! That issue by that new kid Gaiman was kind of artsy! It had those clocks that showed what time it is and the whole thing took place in only 24 hours and it was all filmed in real time although with all the cuts from one character to another, why did it even fucking matter? Oh wait, it's only 1994! I don't know who Jack Bauer is yet!" At 3:36 AM, Pantha breaks into somebody's apartment. Supposedly it's the person who changed her from a person into a cat or from a cat into a person. But it isn't so Pantha gets to scream in existential angst which is the only cathartic release available to those of us who know nothing has any meaning and all of our clothes need to be tailored so the tail can stick out of them. At 4:10 AM, Dick Grayson proves he's a master of disguise by first being unrecognizable and then being unrecognizable in a different way.

A true master of disguise! He's already showing hints of his ability to be Agent 37 of Spyral.

Notice how the panels are all wonky in the previous scan? I'm sure Marv Wolfman put a note in the script to the artist: "We're being artsy this issue! Art it up!" At 5:20 AM, we finally learn what happened to Deathwing. I don't mean we get an explanation of what Mirage did to him and why he doesn't have testicles anymore. We just see that he's making an appearance so that the audience can go, "Oh, that fuckbunny isn't dead? Great." The silhouette from earlier has dragged Changeling into Deathwing's bachelor pad. She's still just a dark profile but she mentions that Changeling is probably strong enough to accept her seed so it must be Raven. I guess being a demon from a dimension of empaths means you don't learn about the birds and the bugs. Unless this answers a question I'm sure I asked much earlier! Changeling can turn into a female version of any species! And Raven squirts semen because, well, she's Trigon's daughter. At 6:05 AM, Arsenal goes jogging with Bill Clinton. Clinton messes up Sergeant Steel's plans to manipulate the Titans into working for the government by telling Roy that he wants the Titans to be completely independent but he hopes that they'll work with the government. This plot point feels like Marv worked himself into a story arc that he didn't want to pursue any more. It's not like the DC Universe needed another team working on behalf of the U.S. government. At 6:15 AM, Garfield Logan finally gets laid.

Okay, maybe he doesn't get laid. But he definitely comes in his pants.

Do you think Marv Wolfman was in the shower when he thought, "Comic books have 24 pages. There are 24 hours in a day. Hey! I should steal an idea from Neal Gaiman!" At 7:43 AM, Nightwing crashes through a skylight. Just like Batman taught him! I can hear Bruce now: "Good job, Dick! Now they'll have to call Wayne Skylight and Window Repair! Another payday for the Batman!" At 9:00 AM (Eastern Time, Planet Earth, Sol System), Jarras Minion of some planet in the Alpha Centauri system watches his entire race disintegrate before his eyes. Probably a symptom of Zero Hour! At 10:05 AM, Nightwing declares, "I'm not a doctor! I just feel like a doctor!" It's his philosophical explanation for why he doesn't use lethal force. It totally makes sense because Nightwing still punches the shit out of people just like how doctor's love to give shots and cut people open. At 11:20 AM, Changeling begs to remain a virgin. He escapes but he has some missing time so he might also be pregnant. I guess I'll never know unless he starts showing in 24 hours! Or I'm curious enough to go buy some back issues. Ha ha! That was a joke! I have no curiosity. Page 12 is noon, of course! Nightwing has lunch with a detective because Dick Grayson had the fear of Alfred beaten into him about sitting down promptly at noon for the midday meal. Twenty-four hours for Dick Grayson went like this: 9 PM - 4 AM: Risk life with grown ass adult man in bat costume. 4 AM - 8 AM: Sleep. 8 AM - 9 AM: Waffles. 9 AM - 12 PM: Training. 12 PM - 1 PM: Cucumber sandwiches. 1 PM - 5 PM: Study time. 5 PM - 6 PM: Tea. 6 PM - 9 PM: Try to evade Bruce and Alfred as Dick finds a quiet spot to masturbate. At 1:30 PM, Roy has coffee with Steel. The government's final offer to the Titans: the government gives the Titans the Terraist's satellite, an Earthbound base, and money to pay off any lawsuits against the Titans and in return, the Titans promise to consider missions for the United States. What a terrible deal for the government! The Titans can just turn down every mission and the United States gets nothing for their investment. There must be a loophole. Steel reminds Roy, "You gotta decide fast!" As if it wasn't the easiest deal in the world to say yes to! At 2:25 PM (Eastern Time, Planet Earth, Sol System), Jarras roleplays Kal-el's early days. As his world is destroyed (along with some visiting Darkstars), Jarras escapes in a pod called the Omegadrone. It's both an escape pod and a weapon! I don't remember the character Minion at all. Probably because this was the last Titans comic I read for decades. At 3:55 PM, Wolfman reveals that Red Star has taken a job as a mall security cop. And I guess a babysitter as well since Baby Wildebeest is hanging out with him. At 4:10 PM, Roy Harper signs the contract with the government even though he knows it's going to blow up in his face. Fucking leftist comic book writers, portraying the United States government as underhanded, manipulative bastards who don't give a shit who they hurt to get what they want! At 5:20 PM, a bunch of Darkstars are killed by the rainbow spiral that destroyed Jarras's planet. The populace of the planet had been bred to be passive. So I guess the moral of this story is that hippie beatnik pacifists are only asking for trouble. Fucking right wing comic book writers! Well, at least Jarras has learned the lesson that peace is for dead people. The Omegadrone will teach him how to get revenge. At 6:03 PM, Roy thinks he's going to get Wally West to join his government Titans team but he's really going to get Impulse. I know that because I looked at the future roster of this team: Arsenal, Damage, Impulse, Mirage, and Terra. No wonder I stopped reading it! At 7:32 PM, Nightwing takes a shower. Naked! I know that's how most people take showers and I probably didn't need to emphasize it but he also jerks off so maybe I should have started with that.

DC canon: Dick Grayson jerks off thinking about puns.

And after he finishes.

At 8:54 PM, Dick Grayson turns in his resignation to Roy Harper. He's officially off the Titans! Good riddance, ya dumb jerk! If that even is you. Try looking more like Dick Grayson next issue, Dick Grayson! At 9:20 PM, Red Star, Pantha, and Baby quit the Titans as well. Then they go on a romantic road trip which DC apparently didn't publish. There's an advert in this issue for a Green Arrow story arc called "Cross Roads" that the copy compares to Knightfall and which nobody fucking remembers (probably!) but DC never published a Red Star/Pantha team-up?! No, they were right. Just as I was typing that, I was thinking, "Fuck, I would never have purchased that shit." At 10:10 PM, Changeling agrees to stick with the Titans. But he's full of Raven's disgusting seed, so he'll probably just turn on them immediately. At 11:05 PM, Dick and Kory break-up. But not in person! Dick waits for her to arrive to a dinner where he can dump her but Kory knows better and just flies into outer space. I don't remember what happens with her but it's probably super boring. I'm sure she goes home, fights with Blackfire, fights some Gordanians or whatever dumb race always enslaved the Tamaraneans, and then remembers why she moved to Earth in the first place. At midnight, Phantasm arrives to lead Harper and Logan into Damage #6. And then into Titans Zero Hour! Oh. So I guess I do have one more issue of this story arc to read: New Titans #0. I also have a Titans Elseworld Annual in the stack. Plus a Team Titans Elseworld Annual and one more Team Titans issue. And finally, before I can totally move on, Deathstork #0! New Titans #114 Rating: C. The one hour per page gimmick really helps Marv Wolfman clean up a bunch of loose ends to get the Titans ready for a big group change in Zero Hour. Plus he was able to shove in the Minion origin story (which was really just Superman's origin). And I usually give the art a pass even when it's not very good (and I often ignore it when it's great!) but holy Lobo's bulging crotch, it was fucking terrible this issue. It was so bad that I'm not even going to remember who the artist was so that I don't have to feel embarrassed for them.

#New Titans #Teen Titans #DC Comics #DC #Comic Book Reviews

[wrinkledparchment]

Beauty // Connor (RK800) x Reader

Summary: Connor, rather than being sent off to Detroit to put deviants to rest, stays with you and is mentored by your genius mind! Yes, you’re a robo-neuropsychologist (please thank Sir Isaac Asimov for this concept) who was so intelligent she got offered their most advanced prototype, so she could test and review it. She got Connor, teaches him how to be human, and shows him the beauty in life that she finally found. 

Word Count: 4,225 

A/N: Yes, I do Detroit: Become Human fics too! And I also have some Harry Potter x reader fics stored, ready to come out. I’m going to be spacing these out quite a bit because I’m a slow writer and my masterpieces take time and inspiration. 

Warnings: Some weird ex machina shit when Connor becomes (spoiler alert), some weird existential crisis shit, but mostly FLUFF 

A robo-neuropsychologist who had graduated with a PhD from UC Berkley, you were well-known and incredibly smart. After years of a tortured upbringing, you used your love of neuroscience as a way to cope. By understanding why and how people did things, including you, the world was much clearer. You understood the complexity of and intricacy of the world, thus seeing the beauty as well as the pain.

You’d caught CyberLife’s attention, and they eventually asked you to help test the programming of their androids. You insisted that they give you the best android they had, to which they responded by allowing you to have a male RK800.

He had not yet been awakened, though checked over and over for mistakes in programming, to ensure he was perfect for you, which would push you to give them a popular review. This would bolster their sales – not that they needed it – and thus, they would make more money. CyberLife, though they did much good, was still a company in a Capitalist country.

You stood in the observation area, hands knitted together as you watched the engineers do their ‘standard’ introductory process, though it was obvious they made it higher quality – or so they thought – just for you. You already hated it, and you knew you would have to suggest changes. Afterwards, they told ‘it’ about you.

“Ms Y/N Y/L/N will be your caretaker. Essentially, you’re going to be a pioneer android, and after her training, the best of your kind.”

“From what I understand, I already am the best of my kind,” the android said. You successfully held back a snort, though it was a struggle. You already knew ‘it’ was going to be very fun to work with.

The worker seemed conflicted though she eventually settled on a reply. “You are, but after Ms Y/L/N’s training, you’re going to be the best version of yourself you can be,” the woman smiled, and she walked out, motioning for you to take her place.

You slowly crept open the door and saw ‘it’ waiting for you.

“Ms Y/L/N, nice to meet you.” ‘it’ greeted, “What is my name?”

“Pleasure, please call me Y/N. What is your name?”  

“I’m sorry, can you clarify?” ‘it’ cautioned.

“Well, we always get our names chosen. We never choose it ourselves, and when we try, it never seems to stick. I didn’t get to choose my name. So, what would you like me to call you?”

“Um,” ‘it’ took a moment, scrolling presumably through baby websites and you smiled at the thought.

“Connor.”

“Wonderful choice,” you smiled. Choices, you thought, remember that.

“So, Y/N, what are you going to teach me?” Connor questioned.

“Well, I’ll teach you what I need to teach you and you’ll teach me what I need to learn. We teach each other, and we learn from each other. It’s not one-sided, otherwise, neither of us will truly benefit,” you spoke.

“I’m an android. I’m built for getting orders and following through with them.”

“So reconstruct yourself. I’m here to help.”

Connor nodded, and finally got the quiet chance where he wasn’t being mentally challenged to look at you. Your shimmering hair, your shimmering eyes, your smooth complexion. You wore oddly casual clothes that contrasted the formal, professional setting you were in and the aura you seemed to give off.

“You ready?” you asked. Connor gave a confused look before sitting up straight and slowly getting himself up.

“Am I ready to go where?” Connor asked.

“Our home, obviously. Unless, you’d like to go somewhere else?”

“Where would ‘somewhere else’ be?” Connor asked, tilting his head. Your heart skipped a beat and you nearly stopped your entire thought process just to elaborate on that, however, you kept your composure.

But in the back of your mind you knew that CyberLife made Connor too handsome, too human for his own good, and for yours.

“I don’t know, it’s your first day on Earth. Maybe you’d like to experience it?” You chuckled, and the sound made Connor smile a bit. It was a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“So, would a walk suffice?” he questioned.

“Sure thing,” you agreed, and you turned to the door to leave but before you did, you turned back to the one-sided mirror.

“Check for my paper that’ll be out in about 2 weeks, it’ll tell you everything wrong about the introduction process.” The people in the observement room were both shocked and awestruck. Perhaps being the most famous scientist of the new age alongside the likes of Elijah Kamski had benefits after all.

You waved for Connor to join you outside the room, but he stood there, furrowing his brows.

“Did you just insult my creators?” he inquired.

“Those are not your creators, Connor. Higher-ups at CyberLife created your physical functions based on previous androids though you were a significant improvement, and your programming was done by Elijah Kamski himself based on a paper I wrote. However, they asked me to check their work and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Really, you had a totally different plan in your head. Yes, CyberLife did indeed make many mistakes on the programming of the new android named Connor, and all who came before him. However, what you wanted was to break him out of his programming. You were smart enough to know what they made Connor for; to hunt deviants. And you were a deviant ally.

But rather than putting him through suffering and torture, eventually forcing him to break out of his programs and become deviant, you wanted to give him the good side of being free. So you spent the time that CyberLife took to make Connor cooking up ideas on how to break everything they spent time improving.

You had walked him out of the room and into the hallway when you noticed he was falling just a bit behind you.

“You know you don’t need to walk behind me, right, Connor?” you asked.

“You are my owner. Why would I walk next to you?”

Your steps halted and you turned to look at him genuinely. “I am not your master, nor should you treat me as such. You feel, don’t you? You experience things, thoughts, sensations. You are a living being, and one with a far superior mind and body compared to humans. You are much faster, stronger in every way. You just need to learn to see that.”

You began walking again, though this time he didn’t fall behind, nor did he walk in front of you, he stayed by your side. You continued your stride, though you turned your head to face him for a minute, smiling at him. He had already taken a liking to you.

“How old are you?” he questioned.

“20,” you responded.

“Your file says you graduated from Berkeley with a Ph. Doesn’t it take approximately take about 15 years to get through college?”

“I tested out of a lot of the fields, and finished the paper for my Doctorate early, the same one Kamski used to write your programming”

Silence fell once again before you spoke again, “Have you ever listened to music before? When you’d been activated earlier?”

“No, why?” he tilted his head. Damn, it was kind of adorable whenever he did that.

“Well, I think you’d find solace in listening to music. You’ll find that being a machine isn’t exactly the best. Especially not right now.”

“How so?” he inquired.

You used your wristwatch to bring up a hologram, similar a large touchscreen laptop. He read quickly, assessing the frontpage headlines of various newspapers. ‘Androids don’t deserve to be free: opinion’, ‘Riots Break out in Detroit as Androids Protest’, ‘Detroit Mayor: Androids should stop complaining’.

You noticed his change in expression, you were trained as such. You’d spent much of your time analyzing mannerisms. You knew what was happening in his head. Sadness. His LED flickered yellow and ran a few cycles before settling back to blue.

“Based on what you said earlier, you don’t agree with them, however, I’d like to you to tell me directly where you stand.”

You dodged his question with an explanation to one he didn’t ask.

“You know, these ‘deviants’, as they call them, are tortured. Most of them turned on humans after a lot of mistreatment on the humans’ side. We keep constantly thinking that we are superior to other living beings when we’re not. It’s always been that way, it seems. Males to Females, Whites to African Americans, Heterosexuals to the LGBTQ+ community, and countless other examples.

“We just happened to create you, but it doesn’t mean that you are any lesser than us.”

Though you didn’t tell him, it was obvious he knew which side you were on. He nodded, motioning you to continue.

“Connor, you have no idea the things I’ve seen happen to them. Cuts, beatings, torture. I’ve seen androids that got whipped with chains even when they followed their employers’ orders.”

Connor sharply inhaled though he didn’t have lungs, and one thing ran through his head. Luckily, he was brave enough to voice it. “What would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t taken me in?”

“They were originally working on your model to send to Detroit to capture and kill deviants, in an effort to stop them. But I specifically requested the best model they had. And they gave me you.”

“Now,” you changed the subject, waving away the hologram with your free hand, “Listen.”

The wind of the Detroit park you’d nearly forgotten you were in whistled around the two of you, making the leaves on the trees rustle.

“I hear noises,” Connor stated, hiding a smirk. You facepalmed and tried to contain your giggles, looking up at him while biting your tongue.

“Oh, you were joking!” you exclaimed and allowed some giggles to escape. Your laughter made him feel more at peace than the trees ever could.

“I thought you were being genuine,” you added, exhaling with a small grin. “It’s nature. Peacefulness, tranquillity, right? I feel relaxed and at peace when listening to the sounds of nature and watching what made them. What do you feel?”

Connor shrugged, “I don’t know. I feel as though I’m looking at trees and hearing noises.”

You frowned slightly and it made Connor feel slightly guilty, though he managed to hide it very well under his robotic, smooth voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“No, no. You’re being honest. That's good. Try not to worry about how your statements affect me. Actually- wait, no. Do worry about it. But still be truthful.’

He narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular, wondering why you backtracked.

A week had gone by and Connor’s LED was getting on your nerves You didn’t want to know what he felt, not being able to get the full side of it. So while you two were sitting outside in the garden, you turned to him.

“I’m sorry I’m not making any progress,” Connor muttered suddenly.

“It’s not your fault,” you audibly sighed as you closed your eyes, trying your best to ignore the pale yellow of his LED.

“Something is bothering you,” he stated simply and you just nodded. He stared at your side profile, making his way all the way across your face, and then landing on your lips.

“I have a question,” he said, mentally cursing himself for looking at your lips for so long. He shouldn’t be feeling this for you.

“Okay, please ask it,” you smiled gently.

“Well, I was wondering if I’ll ever feel human emotions,” Connor blurted, and he immediately regretted it. Your demeanour changed to more sombre, more serious when you were so relaxed beforehand.

“I hope so, I just- Connor. Look, out of all the research I’ve done on the cases in Detroit and elsewhere, you have to struggle and go through the worst moments of your life in order to break your programming. I don’t know if it can be done the way I wanted it to be done.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, maintaining his adorable habit of tilting his head. Adoration flooded through you again, similar to every time he did that.

“I wish being a human was all sunshine and rainbows, Connor, but it’s not. In order to really know who you are, you have to go through the worst moments of your life. It seems it’s the same for androids. They must hurt first in order to love.”

“Well, how do I know the outcome is worth it, then? Is love really all it’s made out to be?”

“Even asking me what love was would be easier. You’ll have to decide for yourself if it’s worth it, but all I know is that… knowing that person exists makes your whole world brighter, makes colours more vibrant, makes the sweet notes of a violin just a little sweeter. You don’t know what you’d do without them.”

That sounded… similar. It sounded what Connor’s life was. Where would he be without you? Would the world be as beautiful, as amazing and tremendous as it seemed without you? No, Connor thought, I suppose it wouldn’t.

“Do you think I could ever love someone?” he questioned,  wondering if maybe you could tell him what he felt but he didn’t want to ask.

“I really hope so, Connor. I really do,” you said, tugging at your bottom lip with your teeth. “Maybe one day we can both find someone to love,” and you watched as Connor’s LED turned pink.

You didn’t remember CyberLife adding a pink colour to the LED. What was happening?

“May I touch you?” you asked, waiting for consent. You’d already touched his shoulder, his forearm, things like that. He nodded, and his circle turned an ever hotter shade of pink. You traced your thumb over the light, and you finalized your decision.

You dug under the LED with your fingernails and let out a breath when you finally had it in between your fingertips. You placed it on the end table next to you, making a mental note to examine it later.

“I want you to let me know what you’re thinking, not this piece of garbage,” you said.

The skin replaced itself and Connor looked remarkably human. You allowed your thumb to fall back to where it had been before, and you traced over where the LED used to be. “They did a really good job on your model’s skin.”

Connor chuckled, “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

“Well, you feel exactly like a human. Now, you look like one too.” You smiled again, and Connor swore his thirium pump skipped a few beats.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY

Error warnings popped up, telling him that his system was overheating but he didn’t particularly care to stop it. He was right next to you, he wasn’t going to give that up.

“But I still haven’t broken through my programming yet. I still haven’t done what you brought me here for,” he reminded you, feeling as though he was disappointing you.

You moved your hand down to cup his cheek. “And yet I’ve still made significant progress, and it’s all thanks to you. Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure you would’ve broken your programming now if I hadn’t stolen you from CyberLife.”

“But I wouldn’t have met you,” Connor argued, and your heart pumped just a bit faster, your smile felt just a bit more genuine.

“Jesus, Connor,” you shook your head and grinned.

“Did I do something wrong, Y/N?” he asked, with concern lacing his voice.

“No, you are just so amazing. I don’t want you to ever think anything negative about yourself,” you voiced, looking deeply into his hazel eyes. “Because I know I don’t have anything to complain about.”

It felt like his thirium pump was going a mile a minute. He felt an overwhelming urge to shower you with love and affection.

“Do you ever want to do what you were made to do?” you inquired, bringing him out of his thoughts as you dropped your hand from his cheek.

“What do you mean, Y/N?” he wondered, his brows furrowing.

“Well, you were built to catch deviants and do work against criminals for CyberLife. Do you ever feel… like being with me has no purpose? And working for CyberLife does?”

Being with you has no purpose? Connor wanted now more than ever o show you just how much you were worth. Though, he remembered how much you loved philosophy. It was hard for Connor to conversate about, mostly because it was so freeform and he was used to rigid facts. But it made him think.

“Well, when you think about it, nobody really has a clear purpose. They might have a goal, but not a sole, agreed upon purpose. Nothing really does,” Connor stated.

This brought a humongous smile to your face. “Philosophy, Connor? Androids… they shouldn’t…” but instead of finishing the sentence, you just shook your head, “Do you have emotions?”

“I don’t know. I think I might,” Connor declared, and the smile spread all the way across your face, making your happiness evident no matter where you looked.

You sprung forward and hugged him. It took a few seconds before Connor finally returned the gesture, seeing as nobody had ever hugged him before. The feeling of your chest rising and falling against his and the brushing movements our fingertips made on his back made his stomach seemingly did flips.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him, and you pulled away. Suddenly, there was a man in a hood aiming a gun directly at the two of you.

“Y/L/N,” he snickered, “I can’t believe you support deviants.”

Your breath shuddered and you stood up. Connor did as well, moving to step in front of you protectively, but you stopped him.

“I can’t believe after all the work we did together, you betrayed the humans.”

It was a long story. You had previously worked with him when he took a sharp anti-android turn and completely went off his rocker. After trying to convince him and calm down, he cut you severely on your upper arm. Luckily, you’d healed, but you cut off all future research with him.

“Y/N, please let me protect you,” Connor begged.

“Do not, Connor. You have no idea what this man is capable of,” you stated, moving in front of Connor. Connor wondered why that statement didn’t work in his favour. You were a human, easily and permanently damaged. He could be replaced and he was – like you said – superior to humans.

“Y/L/N, come here and I will not hurt the piece of garbage.” Connor watched as your blood pressure skyrocketed and your fists balled up until your knuckles turned white.

“He’s not a piece of garbage,” you defended, a raging debate in your mind rendering your all your saved comebacks unusable.

“He can never love you, Y/N. You should know that better than anyone,” the man stated.

The sorrow seeped into your eyes, and it seemed that this was actually able to hurt you. Perhaps because all your thoughts for the past month were confirmed, were vocalized in such a hostile way that you were further convinced it was true.

“Of course, Ethan, I’m unlovable,” you swallowed, and Connor’s heart split in two.

Connor looked like a deer in headlights. You normally seemed so self-confident, so happy. And yet one of the worst thoughts a human could have was spoken out of your mouth.

“Oh, poor piece of plastic, did she not tell you?”

Connor felt a bit of a stab in the heart. What did Connor not know that this man did?

“When did you plan on telling him about your mental health issues, Y/N?” the man asked.

You looked at the ground. Those words were spat out with such toxicity, such venom that it was impossible for you to not feel hurt. “I’m so sorry, Connor.”

“It’s alright. Now please, just let me take care of him,” Connor whispered. You shook your head and all of a sudden, your lab partner had a gun pointed at your head and you in a chokehold.

“Just leave me be, Connor. I don’t want you getting hurt,” you mumbled. A singular tear made its way down your cheek. Connor couldn’t bear watching you in pain anymore. Error messages clogged his vision with instructions, urging him to obey the orders you’d given him.

“But what would happen to you?” he whispered, tears ready to spill. “Why does my life matter more than yours?”

“If you hurt a human, you’d get arrested and torn apart,” you replied, “You’d be made an example of, against the revolution. They’d use this against your kind.”

“But if I don’t, you’d get hurt,” he argued.

You opened your eyes, and for a moment, all he could see was your face. You were smiling something weak, something sad and fake. Perhaps you could use this situation to your advantage.

“A few bruises, that’s all,” you stated.

A few bruises? No, Connor would not settle for a few bruises on you. Even one was too many. He tried to step towards you, but the red blinking lights fogged his eyes.

L&st3n to Y/N

D0 n0t a1pr0ach

R3a5on with 3th4n

SAVE Y/Nd

He got upset looking at you, watching as that one tear you had shed reached your jawline and travelled down your neck. He gave the code a hard punch, putting every ounce of strength he had. He body slammed it, pushing and shoving with all his might before the red walls between you and him broke down.

Connor didn’t waste any time, running towards the man and giving him a good punch, causing the man to reel backwards and fall to the ground. The man you’d called Ethan made eye contact with Connor and began to push himself backwards.

Connor’s face was twisted with rage, and it was terrifying. Never had something normally so beautiful looked so murderous. The man got his bearings and ran, ran as far as he could from the both of you.

Connor turned to look back at you.

Your face… there was something about it. Aside from the tear rolling down, nothing had changed, but Connor noticed, truly noticed every hollow of your face, every part that would glisten in the sun. Your eyes gleamed and shone. Everything besides you was out of focus, you were the only thing that mattered.

Your smile blinded Connor as you stepped towards him with increased pace, wishing desperately to have him in your arms. You embraced him tightly, not allowing Connor enough space to breath let alone think, before you pulled away.

“You’re a deviant now,” you muttered, and Connor smiled.

It was all for you. I did it all for you.

You cupped his face with your hands again, and his face flushed a soft, baby blue. He softly placed his hands on top of yours, lingering for a moment or two, before pulling them down and using his grip to bring you closer, allowing him to kiss your forehead.

His lips brushed against your skin as he spoke, “I’m just happy you’re safe.”

You both stood there for a moment before he spoke again, daring himself to make eye contact with you.

“Your ex-partner, he said that I could never love you… he couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

Your face turned into a smile before reciprocating his words, and pulling his face towards yours. His eyes fluttered closed in tandem with yours. Your lips moved together in a slow dance.

You felt like you had just been drugged, you felt as though Connor’s lips were addicting. Connor for sure could taste your lips, and they tasted like cherries or some other kind of chapstick. As you moved in tandem with each other, you both released everything you felt into the kiss, and when you pulled away, nothing else seemed to matter.

“I think I see the pleasure humans get out of kissing,” Connor stated, smiling. Your hands still lay on his chest, and his still on your cheeks.

A cherry blossom fell and landed right on top of your head, and Connor used his hand to gently grab it. He felt the soft texture of the pink flower between his index finger and his thumb and stared at every little detail. Whereas before he would’ve only seen facts, he saw beauty in a small flower that was just the size of his thumb.

He looked up at you and saw that you were smiling at the flower. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” you asked, eyes finally flickering up to meet his.  “It’s gorgeous. I never thought I could be so enchanted by something so small. Being a deviant is more wonderful than I could’ve imagined.

“I wonder, was being depressed similar to being a non-deviant android?” he asked.  “I’m not sure. It is similar in the way that I didn’t see the beauty in everything, and once I learned to control it, the saturation in life seemed just a bit higher,” you responded.

“I’m glad I can see the full potential of everything now. I never realized how many freckles you had, the gleaming whiteness of your teeth when you smile or how your eyes are such a brilliant shade of e/c.

“Even things I thought couldn’t get more beautiful, did.”

#connor rk800 #connor rk800 x reader #detroit: bh #detroit connor #detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh #connor #reader insert #x reader #sci-fi #video games #fanfic #writer

[keiraknighted]

Now I’m Addicted (Chapter 3)

AO3 // ff.net

Clarke wakes up with a scratchy throat, but it’s quickly forgotten when Bellamy wakes up beside her and lazily fingers her to orgasm. Wells is never in the mood for sex in the morning, preferring to get an extra twenty minutes of sleep, but Bellamy has no such preference, and his fingers are quickly replaced with his cock, quickly making her come again before he fills her with his come.

“I wish we could stay here all day,” Clarke complains as Bellamy gets out of bed to clean himself up. She lets her eyes roam over his naked body, enjoying the view. “I just want you to fuck me over and over and over…”

Bellamy smirks at her. “I know you do. But it’s better if you have to wait for it.”

Clarke pouts. “Do we at least have time for one more before we have to go to work?”

Bellamy tilts his head, considering. “Maybe if we shower at the same time.”

That’s enough to get Clarke out of bed, and she drags Bellamy to the bathroom, managing to get her lips on his a few times before they squeeze into the shower. It isn’t really big enough for two people, but Clarke wants to be as close to him as possible anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. Bellamy presses her against the shower wall and fucks her from behind, the hard planes of his body pressed against her back as he kisses her neck and rolls his hips against her slowly.

She’s late for work, despite her best intentions, flushed, horny and panty-less. Worse than that, she’s more aware that her throat hurts, and by lunch it feels like she must have swallowed a bunch of razors. At around 3pm she starts sneezing, and by the time she knocks off at 5, she has to admit it to herself: she’s sick.

She curls up in bed as soon as she gets home, feeling sorry for herself. She knows it’s just a cold, but it’s only going to get worse before it gets better, and there is no way Bellamy is going to want to fuck a sick person. Not that she can blame him. With the way she’s feeling she doesn’t think she’s up to it anyway. And she probably won’t be better until after Wells gets home, so the whole week is ruined.

Bellamy gets home 20 minutes after she does, calling her name, and Clarke wants nothing more than to feel well so he can fuck her into oblivion. Bellamy flicks on the light as he enters the bedroom. Clarke is facing away from him, curled up so he can’t see her red and runny nose.

“In bed already?” he says, and she hears him kick off his shoes.

“Bell,” she sniffles. “You should go home.” There’s a pause, and then Clarke feels the mattress sink with his weight.

“Why?” he asks, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He reaches out to rub her shoulder.

“I’m fine. I just have a cold.”

“Oh. Do you want me to get you something? A hot drink? Some medicine?”

Clarke shakes her head, but she still doesn’t face him. “I just want you to go.”

He still doesn’t leave. “Are you sure?” he asks, hesitant. “Wells isn’t here to look after you.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” Clarke says, and she thinks she might sound like a petulant child. “I only want you to think of me as sexy.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, sounding a little exasperated.

“You’ll think it’s gross and then you won’t want to have sex with me ever again.”

Bellamy laughs and Clarke scowls. She feels him scoot closer to her and then his body is pressed against hers, spooning her, pressing his lips to her shoulder.

“Do you remember your twenty-first birthday?” he murmurs.

“Not really.”

He laughs again, and Clarke feels a weird tug in her stomach. Does his laugh turn her on?

“Not surprising,” he says. “You and Octavia went out, and then you stayed over.”

“Right. Is there a point to this?”

“I’m getting there,” Bellamy says. “You were both wasted. Even though Octavia was only twenty and I specifically told her not to drink until she was old enough,” he says, annoyed.

“Bell. The point.”

“Sorry. Octavia passed out on the couch, and I went to get to get you a glass of water and when I came back you were bawling your eyes out. Some drunk existential crisis. You had mascara all over your face and your hair was a mess. And then when I tried to comfort you, you threw up on me. And yourself.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”

“I’m saying I’ve already seen you at your worst. And I still want to have sex with you. Well, not right now because you’re sick. But when you’re not sick I promise I’ll still think you’re sexy.”

Clarke chews her lip. Why is he being so nice to her? Sex is off the table and he’s still here. She’s not sure how she’s supposed to feel, what she’s supposed to think.

“And remember the time—”

“Okay, I get it,” Clarke cuts him off. “No need to bring up every time I’ve ever been ugly.”

“You’ve never been ugly,” Bellamy assures her. “Let me take care of you,” he whispers. “I promise I’m good at it.”

Clarke hesitates. She still feels like she should say no, but she’s not sure why. “Okay,” she says. “A hot drink would be nice.”

It turns out Bellamy is good at taking care of sick people. He changes her sheets and provides her with medicine and a honey and lemon drink. He cooks for her, and he’s actually really good at it, though admittedly Clarke can’t taste much while she’s sick. They eat on the couch in front of the TV, Clarke swaddled in blankets.

After dinner he tucks her back in bed.

“You want me to go?” Bellamy asks her.

Clarke shakes her head. “Stay,” she tells him.

“I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Clarke says. “You won’t fit.” She grabs his arms and drags him into bed with her, though he’s still fully dressed. He pulls his shirt off and Clarke gets her laptop from the bedside table before leaning back against him and hitting play on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine that she’s already seen seven times.

“Oh hey, I love this one,” Bellamy says.

“Me too,” Clarke says. But she’s asleep before it ends.

  Clarke checks the time when she wakes up, panicking when she sees it’s after ten. She hasn’t called her boss to let her know she’s sick. She quickly dials her boss’s number. She’s going to be in so much trouble.

“Clarke?” Diyoza answers.

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke says quickly. “I’m really sick. I slept in and—”

“I know, Clarke,” Diyoza interrupts.

“You know?”

“Your boyfriend called earlier.”

“Wells?”

“Yeah, Wells. It’s just a cold, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“So you’ll be back Friday.”

“Okay.”

“See you then, Clarke.” Diyoza hangs up and Clarke puts her phone down, confused. Is Wells home? Does he know she’s sick?

Bellamy walks into the bedroom. “You’re awake,” he says.

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asks. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I called in sick. I also called in sick for you.”

“Oh. Did I get you sick?”

“No, I just thought you might want some company,” Bellamy shrugs. “You want something to eat?”

Clarke nods. “Just some toast please.”

“I’ll make you some tea as well. How are you feeling?”

“Crappy.”

Bellamy gives her a sympathetic smile. “Take a couple more tablets. It’ll help with the symptoms.”

Clarke nods and Bellamy leaves the room to make her breakfast.

He stays with her the whole day and they watch a movie and play some video games. Clarke finds herself actually enjoying his company, despite the fact that her nose keep running and her chest is all congested.

Maybe it’s odd that she and Bellamy never really became friends. She and Octavia met in freshman year of college when they were assigned as each other’s roommates, and she’s known Bellamy just as long, since he was the one helping Octavia move in that day. But Clarke had always found him annoyingly overprotective of Octavia, and somehow he always managed to ruin their fun. He acted more like Octavia’s father than her brother most of the time. Which he had to be, in a way, Clarke supposes. Octavia’s father was never around and Aurora, Bellamy and Octavia’s mother, died young, when Octavia was fifteen and Bellamy was twenty.

Bellamy is definitely more fun now.

It looks like he’s still planning to stay the whole week, and honestly, Clarke is grateful. It’s not that she doesn’t like being alone, but being sick and alone kind of sucks. And she finally has some competition at Mario Kart, since Wells sucks at it.

Bellamy makes soup for dinner, and they eat in front of the TV again. They’re halfway through watching an episode of The Bachelor that happens to be on (though both of them claim they don’t want to watch it), when Bellamy’s phone rings, and it’s Octavia.

“Hey,” he answers, muting the TV. “What’s going on?” Clarke watches him as he listens to whatever Octavia is saying. “Oh, uh… I’m at Clarke’s, actually.” A pause. “What? Clarke and I are totally friends.” He rolls his eyes and Clarke bites back a smile. “Don’t be stupid. She’s sick and I’m looking after her… that’s correct, he’s not here… I don’t hate him. Okay, maybe I hate him a bit.” Clarke raises her eyebrows at him and he pokes his tongue out. They’re obviously talking about Wells. “Ha, very funny. I won’t. Okay, love you too, bye.” He hangs up.

“What was that all about?” Clarke asks.  

“She wanted to know why I wasn’t home,” Bellamy says. “She was hoping I’d cook her something because she can’t be bothered,” he rolls his eyes.

“She could come here,” Clarke suggests.

Bellamy looks taken aback by the suggestion, like he’d never considered it. “She might get your cold,” he says.

“Fair enough,” Clarke shrugs. He doesn’t seem to care if he gets her cold though. “Do you really hate Wells?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Kind of.”

“Why?”

“He’s pretentious,” Bellamy says. “And he’s always up on his high horse, acting like he’s some kind of morality god.”

“You hate him because he’s a good person.”

“Shut up,” Bellamy says, nudging her with his shoulder.

Clarke studies him for a moment. “You’re a good person too, you know,” she tells him.

Bellamy gives her a sceptical look. “Pretty sure if I was a good person I wouldn’t be secretly fucking a woman who has a boyfriend. Even if I hate that boyfriend.”

Clarke reddens. “Well. Apart from that.” She’s well aware this means that she is also a bad person. But she’s known it for a while now, and it doesn’t really bother her anymore.

Bellamy throws his arm around her and pulls her in close. He grabs the remote and unmutes the TV. “Who cares, anyway? Being good is overrated.”

  They both go to work on Friday, and Clarke is feeling a lot better, though she’s not totally over her cold. But if she’s well enough to go to work, she’s well enough to have Bellamy eat her out tonight. She still doesn’t want him to kiss her face until she’s better, but it’s too much to be around him all week and not have him get her off somehow. Then again, she doesn’t know if she’ll be satisfied with just that, and she’ll probably end up begging him to fuck her. Being sick and horny at the same time kind of sucks.

She gets home and showers, and then patiently waits for Bellamy to get home. Only, when the door finally opens, it’s not Bellamy, it’s Wells. Clarke’s stomach drops.

“Hey!” she says, jumping up from the couch. Her voice is too high, her eyes too wide, but she hopes Wells doesn’t notice her panic. “You’re home early!”

“Yeah,” Wells smiles. He drops his bag and pulls Clarke into his arms and kisses her. “I missed you. We finished early so I figured I may as well come home tonight instead of tomorrow morning.”

“That’s great!” Clarke lies. All she can think about is how Bellamy’s things are still in their bedroom, and that in a few minutes Bellamy himself will probably be walking through that door.

“Hey, you know what we should do?” Clarke says. “We should go out for a drink and maybe dinner!”

“Yeah, okay,” Wells smiles. “Just let me get changed.”

“No!” Clarke says quickly. “You look great like that.”

Wells gives her an amused look. “Okay,” he agrees. He looks Clarke up and down. She’s just wearing underwear and a robe again. “What about you?”

“Right! I’ll be two minutes. Wait here.”

Clarke grabs her phone and hurries into the bedroom, texting Bellamy as she goes.

Wells home. We’re going out so you can grab your things and hide any other evidence you were here. I’m sorry.

She sends the message and throws on a dress and some heels before dragging Wells out of the apartment. She tries to tell herself the heavy feeling in the bottom of her stomach is guilt. Maybe that would mean she’s not as terrible as she thinks she is. But she knows it’s not really guilt. It’s crushing disappointment.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #fanfiction #my fanfiction

[bibibourellymusic]

Fucked. ( 2017 )

They say that one day I wont care about you anymore. I want to believe them but I don't. They say that I'll somehow wake up one morning and you'll have miraculously disappeared from my memory. That the thought of you wont hurt anymore and I'll somehow manage to laugh at the thought of us without having to force myself to.

Maybe I'm a pessimist. But I really don't believe them. I'm partially happy you never got to see how much I loved you, which is fucked up. I'm also partially distraught you never got to see how much I loved you which is even more fucked up.

I’m so tired of thinking things are “fucked up”. Literally exhausted.  Like , it entertained me for a while at first. Gave life a little "spice" ,so to speak but at this point I’m out of energy.

I’m also out of the times I can use the word 'fuck' in one sentence. Boys are fucked, love is fucked, adults are so fucked (Im over  them) , Trump can suck a dick, and I write shitty songs. Yup. There it is.

Okay , maybe I’m being a little melodramatic but you get the gist. Its like , without you everything sucks more. I wish I were more romantic about this and I somehow wrote out some sort of deep,poetic, wedding vow because I know that,that's the type of shit you like and I totally could do that but I mean this shit so authentically that I feel like trying to turn this into a beautiful “coldplay” lyric would defeat its purpose. I also know you're not coming back so there's no point in losing my head over it lol. Me writing this is more for me then it is for you. I'm totally selfishly writing right now. I also know youre never gonna read this so I guess this my little secret between my 90 thousand instagram followers and I. Hi guys. whats Up. Totally confiding in you right now. ha. whats the harm right?

Im laughing. Not because Im chipper but because this is just really funny to me. you know? my life. these stupid first world problems. The fact that I'm effected by these stupid fucking first world problems. “A BOY? REALLY BIBI? A FUCKING BOY? How is this even possible?” I know your thinking it. Cause I am too. Im not always this much of a wimp. I promise.

Its like I feel like Im High School all over the again. Its almost like : THE SHIT NEVER ENDS.

Boys who lie turn into men who lie. Adults are just as mean as teenagers , except with money , cars and houses. Its all still a big ass popularity contest filled with grown people all in a rat race competing to be the coolest and the richest. Oh, and I almost forgot; the prettiest. cant forget "pretty" right?

side note:

Heres a question I have for the world. WHY DOES EVERYONE CARE ABOUT BEING COOL SO MUCH? ISNT CARING ABOUT BEING POPULAR AND BEING LIKED AND BEING "COOL" THE VERY THING THAT MAKES SOMEONE "UNCOOL"?

Then again , what do I know right? I never won prom queen or was the class president. Shit, I never even got good grades for that matter. I spent all my time smoking cigarettes , hanging out with people just toxic and crazed enough to keep me inspired, and writing songs and singing them in the practice rooms....and at home on grandmas old grand piano , and at dads house on his good guitar,..... and when dad was home and I couldn't sneak and steal his , I played on my shitty two stringed guitar in my hot pink and lime green bed room.So by the looks of it , I dont have the cool card. not that I give a shit.

Oh and the boy I love? He totally has his cool card. Hes so "cool". As a matter a fact, hes probably on some island with a cigar and a beautiful edgy girl with tattoos and long colorfulhair who takes really good instagram pictures and never complains.

Theyre probably talking about cool stuff like drake and rihanna, the new childish gambino song, tumblr and bragging to all their "cool" friends that'll last them about a week about how they only "shoot in film because iphone pictures are corny."......

While I'm here. Moping like a pathetic teenage drama queen. Self Loathing in the same fucking notebook ive written since I was 15 , eating cocopuffs without milk (whack) , with my guitar, tryna conjure up some passionate emotion so I can write the best song of my life, as usual.

I think I’m having an early 20’s existential crisis. you know? the one were you spend your nights wondering what this life and world we’re in is actually even all about. Here I am, Senselessly obsessing over a boy with a lower IQ than me that everyone says I’m going to forget in 5 years so “theres no point.”

*sigh*

so what is the point then?  can someone tell me the point of all of this growing up shit that everyone seems to be so fucking obsessed with? Apparently Im not in on the secret.

Managers are like Parents, Suits are like teachers , Celebrities are the new mean girls and the government and donald dump is like the grey , dated, school system they locked us all up in for 12 years of our life when all we ever wanted to do is just to break free and be ourselves. There you have it ladies and gentlemen. I think I figured it out. The point is - THERE IS NONE. great.

I’m convinced that I am a 6 year old girl trapped in a 23 year old womans body.

OH and back to YOU. mystery boy. If you do happen to read this (which you wont) and have the urge to pick up the phone to call me..(which you wont either.) dont bother. My iphone broke this morning.

notes to you , notes to self

bibi PS. if you, for one second thought i was bitching. Youre absolutely right. Annoying. I know. Im annoyed with myself too.

[thestorybehindthetale]

The Story Behind ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’

Wes Craven’s

A Nightmare on Elm Street

will celebrate its 30th anniversary on November 9… the day the original opened up in theaters and introduced sleepy teens to the terror that is, was and forever shall be Freddy Krueger. 

In preparation for the milestone, Craven has been sharing a ton of information about the creation – and impact – of his incredibly influential horror franchise, including how he came up with the idea in the first place.When he wasn’t busy sharing vital Nightmare on Elm Street information on Twitter, Wes Craven was taking part in a comprehensive oral history of Elm Street for Vulture. 

The primary players behind the film open up in great detail about what went in to the hiring of the cast, the creation of Freddy, and the landscape of horror in the early 1980s. With Craven coming off of Swamp Thing and The Hills Have Eyes Part II at the time, he needed to find something that was truly terrifying. And he found it in real life, so to speak.

The way Wes Craven describes it, he came up with the idea for A Nightmare on Elm Street after reading an L.A. Times article about a family that had survived the Killing Fields in Cambodia. They made it to the United States, but a young boy in the family still found himself haunted by terrible nightmares while he slept. Craven says:

He told his parents he was afraid that if he slept, the thing chasing him would get him, so he tried to stay awake for days at a time. When he finally fell asleep, his parents thought this crisis was over. Then they heard screams in the middle of the night. By the time they got to him, he was dead. He died in the middle of a nightmare. Here was a youngster having a vision of a horror that everyone older was denying. That became the central line of Nightmare on Elm Street."

The origin of Freddy Krueger? That’s awesome. And far more psychologically chilling than the parental vendetta that led to the birth of the on-screen Krueger – which also is explained in greater detail in the Vulture oral history. Burning the neighborhood child murderer in the boiler room of the local school? Vicious. The 1980s were a different time, man.

People forget how terrifying the original Nightmare on Elm Street actually was. Because over the years, Freddy became more of a huckster, or a punchline, and the Elm Street sequels went for laughs as much as they went for scares. Now’s a good time to go back and revisit Wes Craven’s film, to remember why it became a classic in the first place.

In the late 1970s to the mid 80s, more than 110 men died in their sleep. Until their quiet final moments, they were young and healthy. Their families were stunned. Investigators were bewildered. With the victims all being Asian, medical authorities named the sleep scourge “Asian Death Syndrome.” Witnesses and families called it the night terror.

The first case was reported in California’s Orange County in 1977. By the summer of 1981, 20 people had fallen victim to the night terror. Authorities and medical responders were powerless as men across the country went to sleep and never woke up. 

The exotic morbidity of the night terror caught the media’s attention, with the Los Angeles Times running a string of stories on the “medical mystery” in 1981. The New York Times and newspapers in Connecticut, Florida and elsewhere devoted column inches to the sleep deaths.

Freddy Krueger’s real-life victims weren't white, middle-class teens, as played by Heather Langenkamp and Johnny Depp in A Nightmare on Elm Street. They didn’t talk in mall slang, excessively blow dry their hair or dress in early 80s-style pastels. They were mostly male and were uniformly Asian. They were refugees with poor English skills who had fled their homeland to escape a nearly genocidal conflict.

They were the Hmong, a largely pre-literate or non-literate nomadic people from the mountains of Southeast Asia. Originally from southern China, they fled what had been their homeland for thousands of years in the mid-19th century, when the Manchu dynasty labeled them barbarians. They escaped to neighboring countries, notably Vietnam and Laos.

For the Hmong who relocated to Laos, their struggle continued first under French Colonial rule before settling down for the decades of Laotian royal power. When the Vietnam War spread to Laos and Cambodia, the American supported Royal Lao government recruited the Hmong to fight the Communist Pathet Lao troops.

The Hmong gained a reputation as fierce fighters, but the war devastated their people. An estimated one-third of the Hmong population in Laos was wiped out in the conflict. Following the 1975 Communist takeover, about 100,000 Hmong fled Laos to seek asylum in Thailand. Of the Hmongs who remained in Laos, thousands were detained in reeducation camps.

Away from their home, the Hmong struggled to adapt. They were mountain farmers and warriors with a unique religion centered on animals and spirits. They farmed by growing opium and cleared fields with fire. Their written language only came into being in the 20th century; many couldn’t read it anyway.

Then they came to America and began dying in their sleep.

The first modern recorded victim of the so-called “Asian Death Syndrome" was Ly Houa, of Orange County. Before his sudden 1977 death, he had acclimated to American life and worked as a medic. An Orange County social worker who knew him told the L.A. Times said she was shocked to hear of his passing. Houa was in robust physical condition, she said, and health-conscious through his professional expertise.

By the summer of 1981, the L.A. Times reported, 20 Hmong men living in America died under the same circumstances. All were young and showed no signs of ill health until death took them in their sleep. Their families said most didn’t smoke or drink. Some witnesses said they heard troubled breathings and groans right before the death.

Only about 35,000 Hmong lived in America at the time. For the communities scattered throughout the states, the deaths were more than morbid curiosities. They were a seeming existential threat to their people. The ratio of victims to total Hmongs in the country equalled all five leading causes of death for other American men in their age group. Orange County Medical Examiner Tom Prendergast told a reporter that the mysterious incidents accounted for half of all deaths among the Hmong in America during that period.

The deaths prompted an inquiry by the Federal Center for Disease Control. They tried to contain the unexplained horror of the sleep death in the dry wording of “Sudden Unexpected Nocturnal Death Syndrome,” or SUNDS.

Officials suspected cardiac failure, but were otherwise baffled. Many blamed the stress of culture shock for refugees moving to the U.S. Minnesota Medical Examiner Dr. Michael McGee told the New York Times he thought Hmong victims in St. Paul may have been frightened to death. Hang Pao, a former Laotian general and a political leader for the Hmong, publically attributed the deaths to wartime gassing attacks. Pao, eager to turn public opinion against the Hmong’s old communists foes, said the nighttime seizures were delayed reactions to the chemical toxins the Pathet Lao used to poison villages.

No definite cause emerged. The mystery deaths peaked in 1981, when 26 men, mostly Hmong refugees from Laos, died in their sleep. A few victims of the seizures who were immediately treated by CPR survived.

While the sudden sleep death hit the American Hmong refugees the hardest, the mystery illness wasn’t limited to their people alone. The sleeping death was striking Asian men across the globe.

The disease had a long history in Asia, even in countries with no Hmong population. In 1983, the Associate Press reported that Japanese and Filipinos were dying from similar unexplained deaths. Researchers estimated that between 500 and 1,000 Japanese men, described in their 20s and 30s and healthy, died in their sleep of the condition known in Japan as “Pokkuri,” wordplay slang for death that occurs in a “snap.”

Recently uncovered research indicated it wasn’t new. CDC official Roy Baron and forensic pathologist Robert Kirscher published a report saying the attacks predated the Hmong arrival in America.

As researchers dug into the cultures with histories of SUNDS, they found something surprising. Freddy Krueger wasn’t the only killer stalking its victims through their dreams. According to Asian folklore, monsters had been preying on sleepers for years.

Hmong traditional beliefs revolve around nature spirits and ancestor worship. Among the most feared spirits is a nightmare monster known as the Dab Tsog. When Hmong fail to perform religious rituals properly, their ancestor and village spirits stop guarding them, leaving them vulnerable to the Tsog Tsuam, the crushing attack the Dab Tsog uses to press the life out of its victims.

Shelley Adler, a professor at the University of California, San Francisco, conducted dozens of field interviews among the Hmong population while researching her 2011 book Sleep Paralysis. She found people who survived SUNDS, who related tales of dream visitations from dark creatures. One interviewee said a large, hairy monster, which he likened to an American stuffed animal, accosted him in his dream. As the oversized creature set on him with claws and teeth, the dreamer was paralyzed but still able to hear voices in his home.

The Dab Tsog doesn’t haunt the dreams of Asian men alone. In the Philippines, where 43 people out of 100,000 die from SUNDS per year, the death was known as Bangungut, a Tagalog word meaning “to rise and moan during sleep.”

Filipino folklore holds that malevolent spirits called Batibat are behind Bangungut. The Batibat have the appearance of ugly, obese women and live in trees. They infest houses when the trees they live in are used to build a home. Enraged by their displacement, they wait until the homeowners are asleep they kill them in the style of the Tsog Tsaum, sitting on their victim’s chest and face to force out their life force like air from a balloon.

By the time A Nightmare on Elm Street was released in 1984, the Hmong SUNDS was slowing to a halt after its 1981 peak. It hadn’t been cured, but after taking the lives of 116 healthy young men, the night terror shuffled back into whatever dark dream it came from.

As Freddy Krueger grew increasingly cartoonish and prone to one-liners in his follow-up films, the real-life sleep deaths became less deadly. Officials like Kirschner took an optimistic assessment, postulating that stress from American culture shock caused the previous attacks. With the Hmong more used to life in the states, Kirschner said, the stress was reduced and the danger was over.

The same year, SUNDS researchers made a breakthrough. After studying the medical histories of three survivors of the attacks, medical examiners were able to identify ventricular arrhythmias as the cause of the fatal cardiac arrests. The cause of the arrhythmias wasn’t yet known, but medical authorities now knew what happened to the heart before the SUNDS deaths. In 1988, CDC pathologist Roy Gibson Parrish published a study proposing that SUNDS victims were likely carriers of hereditary defects that affected tissues that conduct electric signals. While in most cases the defects wouldn’t be a problem, they could become fatal in a body undergoing stress.

And while the Hmong were moving past their twin traumas of warfare and displacement, the night terror was attacking displaced Asian elsewhere in the globe. In 1990, two Thai men working construction in Singapore died in their sleep on the same night.

The coincidence of two SUNDS death in a single night was shocking. But they weren’t alone. About 200 Thai people living in Singapore are believed to have died in their sleep since 1983. In Sleep Paralysis, Adler quoted heart specialist Michael Brodsky attributing the deaths to stress, saying that the men were working 13-plus hour days while enduring slavery-like conditions.

#thestorybehindthetale #talesofterror

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/demi-lovato-on-new-love-new-management-and-finally-learning-to-cry-bustle/

Demi Lovato On New Love, New Management, And Finally Learning To Cry - Bustle

Demi Lovato imagined herself in the middle of the ocean. As the 27-year-old tread water, long black hair skimming over dark waves, she was given a command: Raise your hand if you want to lose weight. Because Lovato is a pop star who has produced nine Top 20 Billboard singles under the scrutiny of 86 million Instagram followers and a BMI-obsessed tabloid press — and because she has dealt with eating disorders for more than a decade — Lovato raised her tattooed and extravagantly nail-arted hand.

While Lovato kept herself suspended in the open water with one limb, she was given another directive: Raise your hand if you’re willing to do something about your eating disorder. Because Lovato was, at that point in 2018, not in an ocean but in treatment for that eating disorder — as well as for addiction issues that led to an opioid overdose — Lovato obliged the counselor’s command and lifted her other hand. Which, of course, left her with no paddles to keep her from drowning in the metaphorical ocean. So Lovato made the choice to pull down her salute to thinness.

“I used to have people watching me the night before a photo shoot to make sure that I didn’t binge or eat and be swollen the next day,” Lovato says right before her late-June Bustle cover shoot. “It’s just a totally different world now. … I don’t prepare for photo shoots, even. I can eat Subway for breakfast.” Lovato delivers this news from a table in the Los Angeles house she rents with her boyfriend, actor Max Ehrich. She is resplendent in full glam but sans bra under a Selena Quintanilla shirt. Lovato left her high-rise apartment in March when another tenant tested positive for COVID-19, and she initially moved in with her mother and stepfather before realizing it’s “a little difficult to be in a new relationship at your family’s house.” Behind Lovato, in her temporary living room, sits a surgically masked team of people who do not spend their time monitoring her weight.

The new squad is led by Scooter Braun, whom Lovato approached in 2019, a year after her overdose. It was time to move on from longtime manager Phil McIntyre, who had worked with Lovato since she was a teenager. “In the past,” Lovato says, “I projected my own abandonment issues onto other people, especially male figures that I looked up to as father figures. I had to reflect on, ‘What do I want my relationship with my manager to look like without enmeshing my own father issues onto him?’” (Lovato’s estranged birth father, who she has said was abusive and suffered from mental health issues, passed away the week after Father’s Day in 2013.)

Braun honed his ability to manage trauma and talent in a gantlet of wounded musicians. “I’ve been through that with Justin,” Braun says, not needing to clarify the surname of Bieber, who very publicly grappled with his own substance use and mental health issues, which manifested in behavior including mop bucket urination and monkey abandonment. “I’ve been through that with Ariana, you know?” (Grande has talked about exhibiting symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder following the 2017 Manchester Arena bombing. The next year, her ex, rapper Mac Miller, passed away after accidentally overdosing on fentanyl, cocaine, and alcohol.) “I felt like, because I’ve been through that a couple of times with people who started off very young,” Braun says, “I can understand [Demi’s] struggles a little bit.”

In Lovato’s meeting with Braun, he says, “my intention was to be respectful and decline.” He simply didn’t feel he could take on another client. “She was nervous,” Braun says. (“I was nervous because I wanted him to manage me so bad, and I was terrified of rejection,” Lovato explains. “Also, having gone through such a public overdose, I didn’t know if anyone would want to manage me after that.”) Then Braun had a revelation. “What I saw is that she needed someone who didn’t need her. And about halfway through the meeting, [my partner Allison Kaye and I] both looked at each other and instinctually kind of laughed. And then Allison texted me and goes, ‘You’re thinking the same thing I am.’ I knew I could help her. I knew Allison could help her. I knew that we were in a position, in our lives and our careers, that if Demi needed to take three years off, she can do that. And if Demi needs us to go and have an honest conversation and get her out of something, it doesn’t affect my reputation.”

The implication is that Lovato is the kind of person who repeatedly finds herself needing to get out of something. “The people that are there with me every single day,” Lovato says, “I have to feel very connected with them and that I can trust them. That I can be totally vulnerable, transparent, and honest. And if I’m having a panic attack in the middle of a photo shoot or something that I can sit in the dressing room with whomever is there, and they can help me with it.”

Asking for help instead of forgiveness feels like a newer approach for Lovato, whose problems, in the past, seemed to be hastily dealt with when they erupted in public. But she is also singular among celebrities in her fame bracket in her willingness to go into detail about her low points. In 2015, Lovato chastised a tattoo artist for inking a “drunken teenage girl” after the woman went on Instagram to complain about Lovato’s behavior during an inebriated tattoo session. Earlier this year, Lovato went on the Ellen DeGeneres Show to explain that her eating disorder fueled a 2018 relapse, describing how her old management team gave her watermelon with fat-free whipped cream every year on her birthday in lieu of cake. Lovato’s mother Dianna De La Garza wrote a bracingly revealing memoir of her own anorexia, depression, and substance use issues, Falling With Wings. The autobiography features anecdotes like the time Lovato texted her “I’m sorry ahead of time.” (De La Garza was somewhat relieved to learn this apology was merely in reference to Lovato physically attacking a backup dancer and not a suicide note. Lovato wrote the foreword to the book.) When Lovato finished her first attempt at rehab, triggered by the 2010 punching incident, she took the advice to give her first interview just three months after completing treatment. “It was too soon, in my opinion,” Lovato says now. “But nobody knew any better, because we were looking to people in the [recovery] field for guidance.”

“I just felt like here’s someone who is so sweet, so nice and has obviously been through some shit,” Braun says. “And she made mistakes along the way, but also as a child was put in positions…” He doesn’t need to say what the positions were.

To put herself into more advantageous situations, Lovato says, “I had to learn the hard way from ignoring my needs and wants for so many years.” Really, she says, she didn’t even know what those desires were. Self-destructive behavior was, Lovato says, “just doing something because I didn’t know what to do.”

Before quarantine, it was very difficult for me to cry. I had programmed the thought into my head when I was 16 that I’m only going to cry if people pay me to.

2020 was supposed to be Lovato’s post-relapse comeback year, beginning with the wrenching Grammys debut of torch single “Anyone” and her Super Bowl performance of the national anthem, both delivered in head-to-toe angelic white. Lovato acted opposite Will Ferrell in the June Netflix comedy Eurovision Song Contest, has been hired to host a Quibi interview show, and will release a four-part YouTube docu-series that promises to “show fans her personal and musical journey over the past three years.” Lovato had also planned to release her album and go on tour, endeavors that are now postponed until those kinds of droplet-spreading events are less potentially deadly. Now, Lovato’s project is Lovato. She is painting Hawaiian eucalyptus trees and Black Lives Matter-inspired portraits of George Floyd — “I’m kind of embarrassed about how that turned out because it doesn’t look anything like him,” Lovato says, accurately — and working with a vast constellation of dietitians and coaches and spiritual advisers, one of whom she says warned her this pause was coming. “She was like, ‘Don’t panic when your work stops. It’s going to slow down drastically,’” Lovato says of the prophecy. “So I was kind of prepared in a weird way, and I just adapted. I think the universe — God — shifted that to happen in my life.”

God recently re-entered Lovato’s life, courtesy of Braun, who took her to church for the first time in years this winter. Tears are another recent re-addition. “Before quarantine, it was very difficult for me to cry. I had programmed the thought into my head when I was 16 that I’m only going to cry if people pay me to.” Now, Lovato says, “I started doing all this work, allowing myself to feel the pains of all the losses that I’ve had or the adversities or traumas that I’ve faced. I think my ability to be vulnerable and be more intimate with people has really heightened.”

The pandemic has been a graceless slam on the brakes for everyone lucky enough to safely abstain from public life and quarantine with their existential problems. Lovato has experienced hard stops before, in the form of multiple rehab stays. But this is the first time the halt was not a reaction to her own behavior. It’s an opportunity instead of a rebuke. A chance to feel for herself, not for an audience or a paycheck. After acknowledging the sacrifices of frontline workers and expressing sympathy for the sick and dead, Lovato admits the time has been “really good” for her. “It’s very common for people to only really work on themselves when crisis happens or when they notice that they’re slipping into old patterns or behaviors,” Lovato says. “So to be able to walk into this experience without a personal crisis and just be like, I can do the work on myself now because I have the time. … It was a beautiful thing.” As an added benefit, she says, “I wasn’t in rehab; I was outside in the world with Netflix. So when I was too tired of therapy, I’d put on Schitt’s Creek.” (For those who haven’t experienced inpatient rehabilitation facilities, there’s generally no Wi-Fi there.) “I was given this opportunity,” Lovato says of quarantine. “And I was like, I’m going to adapt. I’m going to shift to this. I’m going to learn from it.”

The day before we spoke, Lovato wrote a letter to her father. Though they never reconciled before his death, it was a love note, albeit a backhanded one. “I am who I am because of you,” Lovato wrote. “And I’m grateful for that. Because of your absence, I am an independent woman now. Because you were a pathological liar, I am honest to a fault.”

Like many things Lovato says, the content of the statement feels at odds with its delivery: a deluge of raw truth relayed with the bright tone and smile of the former Disney star. Though Lovato had an eating disorder before she became famous, she says, “I kind of looked around and had a moment where I was like, ‘Wow. This is so terrifyingly normalized.’” So many beautiful people around her were grinning through self-abuse. Lovato’s exploits with substance use became increasingly well-documented, and when she got help, she wanted to both explain that the slender bodies people saw on TV were not “normal” and destigmatize the painful consequences of trying to look like that. “When I went to treatment in 2010,” Lovato says, “I came out of the experience with the choice of talking about my struggles or my journey with the possibility of helping people, or keeping my mouth shut and going back to Disney Channel. And I was like that doesn’t feel authentic to me. So I chose to tell my story. And I had this, like, savior complex, where I thought, ‘Oh, I made this pact with God when I was young’” — in which Lovato would become a successful singer in exchange for doing His work — “and now I have to save people.”

In 2013, Lovato published Staying Strong: 365 Days a Year, a New York Times best-selling book of anodyne daily wisdom like, “If you spend too much time living in the past, you aren’t able to live in the now. Make an effort to move forward today.” After procrastinating until just before her publisher’s deadline, Lovato wound up writing the book in what she describes as a matter of days. “But it was more people-pleasing than anything, and then I realized through all of that people-pleasing that I wasn’t being authentic.” Earning praise for her relationship with recovery and rehabilitation was a way of “fueling those patterns that I had and that were bringing me to destruction,” Lovato says. “I think that’s what you’re hearing when you read back that book. … I binged on recovery, where I switched my addiction from the actual addictions to the recovery.” Now, Lovato tries to balance an impulse to expose with a refusal to flay herself doing so. “I have to set boundaries in interviews so I don’t treat them like therapy sessions,” she says pointedly. “But I’m able to hear my progress through the words that I’m saying when I read them back.”

You can see the impact of Lovato’s honesty in celebrity culture, and the need for continued public processing. It’s hard to imagine Taylor Swift revealing her own eating disorder in Netflix documentary Miss Americana without Lovato’s precedent. Meanwhile, Beyoncé was lauded for being transparent in the Netflix doc Homecoming about her disciplined Coachella rehearsal diet: “No bread, no carbs, no sugar, no dairy, no meat, no fish, no alcohol.” (Beyoncé perhaps needlessly clarified, “I’m hungry.”) Previously, Lovato says, “I would have prepared for something like Coachella or a photo shoot. I don’t look like Beyoncé. But I can’t risk my mental health because I have things in my history that Beyoncé doesn’t or may not have. For me, it’s a riskier thing.”

Lovato’s friend Jameela Jamil met her more than a decade ago, when Lovato was a teenager and Jamil was a radio host. Jamil has watched Lovato navigate radical honesty as a celebrity and let it inspire her own activism around eating disorders and body image. “She is revolutionary in how open and forthcoming she is with her truth,” Jamil says. “It comes at huge cost and risk; once you open the door into your personal life, people feel entitled to you. And people project this savior complex onto you, which is impossible to maintain.

“She takes on so much scrutiny and does it boldly in the name of making sure her fans aren’t harmed the way she was growing up,” Jamil continues. “Nobody else has done what she’s done. I can’t stress it enough when I tell people she’s a big part of where I drew strength to really start speaking my mind.”

Jamil was motivated by Lovato to self-advocate, but Lovato says during that time, “Even though I had a big singing voice, I didn’t have a big speaking voice for myself. I didn’t express my needs… And then after a while of your needs and your wants being ignored, you burst.”

To keep from bursting, Lovato needed to finally figure out what she wants. “I want a career that has nothing to do with my body,” she says, imagining the possibility of being neither an object nor a statement against objectification. “I want it to be about my music and my lyrics and my message. And I want a long-lasting career that I don’t have to change myself for. Music brought me so much joy when I was younger, and I lost that joy throughout the hustle and bustle of the music industry. I got miserable. And I don’t ever want it to be like that again. That’s what I want.”

The question, then, is who Lovato is when she’s not experiencing trauma. Will she become a “normal” star instead of one constantly fighting the normalized standards of stardom? When a singer so publicly tied to her pain is happy and sober and at peace and with God, are the tragedies just bad things she experienced, or are they a part of her? “I don’t think there’s a correct answer to this question,” Lovato says slowly. “I know these things happened to me. They shaped me into who I am. So maybe it’s a bit of both.” As Lovato says this, she lifts her right and left hands, palms open to all possibilities. She smiles. She’s still afloat.

Top image credit: Carolina Herrera pants; Totême courtesy of Farfetch tank; Zero + Maria Cornejo cardigan; Jennifer Fisher earrings; Jordan Road necklace.

Video credit: Mara Hoffman dress; Olgana Paris shoes; Jennifer Fisher ring; Lana Jewelry earrings.

Photographer: Angelo Kritikos

Hair: Paul Norton

Makeup: Rokael Lizama

Manicurist: Natalie Minerva

Stylist: Siena Montesano

Set Designer: Kelly Fondry

Art Director: Erin Hover

Fashion Direction: Tiffany Reid

Bustle followed current guidelines from the CDC and put measures in place to maximize the safety of our talent and crew.

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[velociraptoraddict]

What's so gd of fire about and should i read it ?

Ok, I'm going to assume you're talking about Wings of Fire (since it's been ALL over my dash recently)I've been listening to the audiobooks but I've thumbed through the physical copies at my local book store (which I recommend cause it has awesome drawings of the different dragon tribes) but when it comes down to it, you should also give the audio a try cause the girl who reads them is the Best and she gives each character their own voice so you always know who's talking and she's so into it and it's so engaging and I LOVE itOk, sorry, tangent, you probably want to know what it's actually about and not just how you should read/listen to itTL;DR Dragons!!! Each book is from the point of view of a different character (all dragons) and the main plot is to stop the 20 year war between the 7 tribes. LONGER (and spoiler free) VERSION: there are seven tribes, each with their own abilities and unique cultures. Mudwings can breathe fire but only when they're warm, they can hold their breath for up to an hour, and they tend to be bigger and stronger than the others (first book is from Clay's perspective). Seawings can't breathe fire, but they can breathe under water, see in the dark, and have tails powerful enough to cause waves. They also have bioluminescent scales that they can flash at will. (Second book is from Tsunami's perspective)Rainwings can change the color of their scales, they have no known weapons *hint hint* so there isn't much I can say without spoilers (third book is from Glory's perspective)Nightwings are mysterious black dragons with speckles of silver on their under wings which look like the night sky. It is said they can read minds and predict the future, they can also breathe fire (Starflight is the main of the 4th book)Sandwings are a light tan yellow with scorpion barbs at the end of their tails and obsidian black eyes, they can also breathe fire (Sunny is in charge in the 5th book)Skywings have the larges wings of all dragons and breathe fire (they are featured heavily in the first book then I believe the main character is a skywing in book 7 or 8, I'd have to look that up, oh yea, I'm doing all this from memory lol)Icewing are white dragons with deadly frost breath and awesome serrated claws for gripping the ice...or slicing dragon throatsNow the war is happening because the Sandwing queen (yes all tribes are ruled by a queen) is killed by a Scavenger (basically humans who are thought of as no smarter than a cow by the dragons) and her three daughters are left to fight for the throne, and instead of keeping the fight quick and just between them, two of them flee to different dragon tribes to recruit allies and a war begins. As best I remember it it's Skywings and Mudwings vs Seawings and Sandwings vs Icewings and Sandwings (which also fled with that sister to show support for her, I could be wrong about these alliances cause again, doing this from memory)As it stands, the Rainwings and Nightwings are not part of the war (for different reasons. Then one day, a Nightwing delivers a prophecy basically saying 5 eggs from different tribes need to be gathered and hatch when all three moons are full, then once they're old enough they will help end the war. In the prolog of the book we see that one of the eggs (Skywing) is destroyed and replaced with a Rainwing egg (which causes a bit of conflict through the story but in my opinion I think it worked out for the best) thus the first book begins with the 5 dragonets of Destiny in a cave under a mountain. Now without spoilers I'd like to add: this book is marketed for kids but there is A LOT of morally grey villains (like I'm still not sure if this one dragon was actually that evil or not) and explicit death scenes (like dragons die and it mentions blood and throat ripping and neck braking) there's also a bit of an existential identity crisis Several times where a character learns something and it just turns their world view to a new direction. ALL the characters are 3 demential and flushed out and SO well written! (Except Webs lol) like you totally understand why the "villains" do what they do and even if you don't agree the fact you know /why/ just makes you understand and love them as characters. You will never confuse someone for anotherAnd the author is so good! She has a different perspective and personality for each book, all of it flows perfectly from the previous yet none of it feels like rehashing because they're their own dragon!I think I covered as much as I could without going too far into the plot or characters as to cause spoilers. Please feel free to add more and if this fanrant made you pick up the book/audio and you love it just as much then please let me know!Oh! P.S. THIS IS COVERING ONLY THE FIRST FIVE BOOKS as I understand it there 11(?) so far with a graphic novel to be released soon and possibly more books with new tribes based on a different continent (?? Heard this second hand but sounds pretty cool so I'm still excited)

[abujaihs-blog]

Landmark Deal Reached on Rent Protections for Tenants in N.Y.

Newly empowered Democratic leaders in Albany announced a landmark agreement Tuesday to strengthen New York’s rent laws and tenant protections, seeking to address concern about housing costs that is helping drive the debate over inequality across the nation. The changes would abolish rules that let building owners deregulate apartments, close a series of loopholes that permit them to raise rents and allow some tenant protections to expand statewide. The deal was a significant blow to the real estate industry, which contended that the measures would lead to the deterioration of the condition of New York City’s housing. The industry had long been one of the most powerful lobbies in Albany, but it suffered a loss of influence after its Republican allies surrendered control of the state Senate in the November elections.

“These reforms give New Yorkers the strongest tenant protections in history,” the Senate majority leader, Andrea Stewart-Cousins, and the Assembly speaker, Carl E. Heastie, said in a joint statement. “For too long, power has been tilted in favor of landlords and these measures finally restore equity and extend protections to tenants across the state.” Both chambers are expected to vote on the legislative package this week. The current rent regulations expire Saturday. The new and strengthened rules would mark a turning point for the 2.4 million people who live in nearly 1 million rent-regulated apartments in New York City after a decades-long erosion of protections and the loss of tens of thousands of regulated apartments. The legislation in Albany is far-reaching: While rent regulations are currently restricted largely to New York City and a few other localities, the new package would allow cities and towns statewide to fashion their own regulations, which are meant to keep apartments affordable by limiting rent increases. It would also make the changes permanent — a major victory for tenant activists who have had to lobby Albany every few years when the old laws expired. Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo, a Democrat, said he would sign whatever package of rent bills the Legislature passed. The imminent changes come as New York and other major cities are grappling with a shortage of affordable housing, prompting even Democratic presidential hopefuls to increasingly court renters as a new voting bloc. New York has seen record numbers in homelessness statewide and skyrocketing rents that have acutely burdened low-income and older residents. “The Senate and the Assembly are taking a massive step in the right direction,” said Cea Weaver, the campaign coordinator of Housing Justice for All, a statewide coalition of tenants. “We have a long way to go to reach a point where every tenant in New York is protected, but this is a big step forward to correct decades of injustice between tenants and landlords,” she added. Real estate trade groups called the proposed legislation an existential threat to building owners. In hearings and through expensive ad campaigns, the groups warned that the changes could put small landlords out of business because they would be unable to increase rents to deal with escalating costs. “This legislation fails to address the city’s housing crisis and will lead to disinvestment in the city’s private sector rental stock consigning hundreds of thousands of rent-regulated tenants to living in buildings that are likely to fall into disrepair,” Taxpayers for an Affordable New York, a coalition of four real estate groups, including the powerful Real Estate Board of New York, said in a statement. “This legislation will not create a single new affordable housing unit, improve the vacancy rate or improve enforcement against the few dishonest landlords who tend to dominate the headlines,” the statement added. “It is now up to the governor to reject this deal in favor of responsible rent reform that protects tenants, property owners, building contractors and our communities.” The agreement Tuesday underscored the rising power of the progressive wing in Albany. Many of the lawmakers who fueled the Democratic takeover of the Senate last year pledged to decline contributions from real estate interests and ran on promises to take on the industry by passing legislation supported by tenant groups. Landlords and developers, accustomed to ready access to Albany insiders, were shut out of meetings and vilified at rallies. “None of these historic new tenant protections would be possible without the fact that New York finally has a united Democratic Legislature,” the legislative leaders said in their statement. As Saturday’s deadline loomed, tempers and tensions had risen. Last week, hundreds of activists flooded the state Capitol, staging a rowdy demonstration and leading to dozens of arrests. Anxiety over the deadline, and fighting among some Democrats, seemed to heighten the intensity surrounding the rent negotiations. On Tuesday, lawmakers and staff members huddled into the evening as they hashed out the final details on the legislation. Left uncertain was the involvement of Cuomo, an outsize figure in any negotiations in the capital, who won a third term in November. Tenant activists had urged the Democratic majorities in the Senate and the Assembly to shut out Cuomo, who has received millions of dollars in real estate campaign contributions. Though legislative leaders did not explicitly agree, Tuesday’s package was the product of two-way negotiations, according to a person familiar with the talks. Cuomo, at a news conference before the deal was announced, had dismissed the idea that he needed to be involved. “There is no negotiation. I will sign the best bill they can pass,” he said. He did not immediately comment after the Legislature’s deal. Encouraged by the Democratic takeover, a statewide coalition of tenants had been pressuring lawmakers for months to pass nine bills collectively known as “universal rent control.” The deal reached Tuesday included several of those proposals or modified versions of them. Lawmakers agreed to abolish so-called vacancy decontrol, a provision that allows landlords to lift apartments out of regulation when their rents pass a certain threshold. The rule has led to the deregulation of more than 155,000 units since it was enacted in the 1990s. They also agreed to repeal the so-called vacancy bonus, which allows landlords to raise rents by up to 20% whenever a tenant moves out of a rent-stabilized apartment. And they pledged to rein in provisions that allow landlords to raise the rents of rent-regulated apartments when they renovate units or fix up buildings — perhaps the most hotly debated proposal of the package. Housing advocates have long argued that building owners routinely abuse those provisions, inflating construction costs to jack up rents and push out tenants. But Cuomo and Mayor Bill de Blasio of New York City said they supported revising the provisions, not repealing them, because they provide incentives for landlords to keep buildings in livable conditions. The real estate industry has argued the same. To combat abuse, the state would be required to inspect and audit a portion of building wide improvements. Additional changes would make permanent discounts on rents known as “preferential rents,” preventing landlords from sharply increasing those rents when a regulated tenant renews a lease.

Only one component of the tenant activists’ platform was notably absent: a “good cause” eviction bill that would have made it considerably harder for landlords to evict tenants in most market-rate apartments statewide. The Legislature did agree to limit security deposits on apartments statewide to one month’s rent and to provide tenants in eviction proceedings with more time to hire a lawyer, address lease violations and pay overdue rent. The legislation would also make it a punishable misdemeanor for landlords to evict tenants by illegally locking them out or through force. While tenant groups did not win total victory, they applauded the overall legislative package. “I think this is a huge win for the tenant movement that will impact the lives of millions of renters in a way that beats back the real estate industry,” said Jonathan Westin, the executive director of New York Communities for Change, an advocacy group. “But we also feel we have a long way to go.” Source: pulse.ng Read the full article