#1 2 3 slaughter me street

[gentrychild]

BNHA 407 : AFO is a lying liar who lies

Today is a very sad day because I am about to do something I genuinely dislike: I am about to defend All for One. In order to cope, I shall make fun of him the whole time.

AFO and Yoichi's backstory is finally out, with AFO narrating it, and there are two possibilities: he is either completely lying about it (boring) or he is lying a little about it (very in-character for him) because he is also lying to himself.

Lie number 1: AFO was born evil.

The narrator (AFO, seriously, it's AFO) says things such as "The baby drained the lifeforce of both his mom and his brother.", "It was born an arrogant baby." and such but it really reads at AFO villifying himself to add to his own legend.

That's what babies do. Children, before they're born, kinda have to take their strength from their mother. That's why pregnant people aren't supposed to do anything taxing.

AFO and Yoichi's mother didn't die because baby AFO drained her like a vampire. She died because she was a homeless woman who had access to nothing and had to go in labor alone.

Same thing here: during twin birth, a twin is often bigger than the other (well, probably not to extent of Yoichi and AFO, but you get my point).

Lie number 2: AFO, as a demon baby, is shown killing for no reason, just because he can.

(First slaughter by Baby AFO shown in that chapter.)

There are two things that are strange in this scene (apart from... you know.... a baby murdering people...)

AFO had no reason to go after them because they don't have any quirks to steal.

It makes no sense for someone to attack a group of people with nothing to gain. I doubt that's the kind of behavior you have when you're in survival mode as you're barely surviving in the street.

However, a previous panel points at some context we might be missing.

The same panel that indicates that those guys don't have a quirk to steal also shows that they are wiling to do some "preventive attack" on a bunch of quirked people who might or might not be those who assaulted a protest group (reminder that in this context, that protest group are protesting the rights for quirked people to exist).

I could be wrong but odds are that they did something to be qualified as a threat to All for One and we are missing the additional context.

(Second slaughter by Baby AFO shown in that chapter.)

Now, the poor souls who just got absolutely wrecked by a toddler wearing what I suspect to be a garbage bag have quirks, which makes more sense than the previous scene.

However (and thank you for @aimportantdragoncollector for pointing that out to me), we also have this panel.)

Yoichi is shown with bruises on his face and might be broken teeth.

Probably because those same people AFO is shown killing attacked him.

Lie number 3: AFO never loved Yoichi because he can't love, he just considered that he was his. That's all. Nothing more.

(Just... Just ignore the rats.)

AFO didn't care about Yoichi so much that the very conscious first act of his life might have been to swim a river upstream while dragging his brother above the surface with what must have been the deathgrip of all deathgrip.

AFO didn't care about his brother so much that Yoichi was fed and clothed by an AFO who was malnourished enough for his ribs to show and who wore what's basically an improvised toga.

But he just keeps sacrificing what little he has for someone he doesn't care about one bit, that's just his first possession. Nothing more.

Okay, I am going to be clear: anyone who sees that panel and thinks that it's the proof AFO didn't like his brother... You just outed yourself as an only child.

Siblings punt each other for no reason. (There is a reason why the first recorded murderer was an older sibling.) In this case, the reason was Yoichi throwing a can at him.

AFO: "You're not inviting me to a fun activity? You're leaving me out, in the cold, unable to partake in brother bonding activity? Oh, vault for Little Brother! Vault for Little Brother for one thousand years!"

AFO: "Nevermind, we're reading together. All is well, I guess."

Lie number 3: AFO killed the glowing baby for power, because he could, or because the Glowing Baby didn't deserve it

Still laughing about AFO's flawless reasoning... "Comic books heroes' life suck. Better to be a villain. I already did the whole struggle thing, I want an easy life."

AFO killed the glowing baby because he was jealous. It's as simple as that. The glowing baby was considered the first official quirked individual (even though it's not true), was protected by his family (if I remember correctly, the mother of quirks was his mom) while AFO and Yoichi had no one but each other (EDIT: I was wrong, the Mother of Quirks was Destro's mother. thanks to the people in the tags), and had a ton of people following him (while, for some strange reason, people start running away screaming when AFO shows his quirk... What a mystery...).

The last panel was basically AFO saying "I want to be loved' but not having the frame of reference to even know what love is.

In conclusion...

While AFO is definitely a bad guy and a monster, he didn't begin his existence as one. He just wants people to believe that. Because his pride and his ego can't allow him to admit that he lived a childhood full of horrible trauma where he was a victim abandoned by society (to an even greater extent than the LOV) or he would probably combust out of rage and mortification.

Ergo facto, AFO is a lying liar who lies, especially to himself.

[radfemverity]

All day on Twitter, pro Palestine westerners of both sexes have been attempting to justify the scenes in the viral video of the deceased, bloodied, half naked woman, being paraded through the streets in a pick up truck by men with machine guns chanting Allah Akbar.

It's come in 3 forms:

1. saying "where were you when the IDF did [X crime] to [Y woman]?" to people they've literally never met and do not know the politics of. They're just assuming that anyone distressed at the footage is a Jewish/Israeli supremacist who doesn't care for innocent slaughtered Palestinian people.

These whataboutery addicts are disingenuous as all fuck, and completely desensitised to acts of violence, so much so that they project their own inability to extend compassion for murder victims on "the other side", onto those whose tweets they're replying to. Victims are just gotchas to them.

But they're cupcakes compared to the next 2 categories.

2. saying that these men's murders of women, abduction of elderly ladies (separate viral incident) and other crimes against civilians is a justified reaction against apartheid and/or settler colonialism, and that Israeli people have had it coming.

I cannot believe I have to say this, but regardless of your opinion on the conflict, whether you’re a Zionist or believe Israel is an apartheid state, if you believe random women, young and old, and their children, being abducted, bombed, raped, murdered and paraded through the streets by men, is a justified response to oppression, then you are dead inside. That’s not brave rebellion. It’s plain old male savagery.

There is, sadly, an academic case which could be made that such brutalities assist the war effort of a nation to gain independence – this being a reference to the fact that the most savage empires, the ones willing to commit the most gruelling acts, tend to be the ones to come out on top during wars. History shows us - think of Rome, Japan, etc.

But this type of speculation almost always crosses the line into justifying such crimes, because it was never about speculation for speculation’s sake. It was about wanting the other side - including women and children - slaughtered. Pro-Palestine Twitter have demonstrated this perfectly today.

Please let me make this excruciatingly clear, this political behaviour is exhibited by practically every male-dominated movement and ideology there is, which is… everything other than radical feminism. Zionists do this too. As do conservatives, liberals, marxists, fascists, progressives, pacifists, nationalists of all stripes – supremacist and anti-colonial, theocrats, Islamists, etc. It’s just that the issue of today is the Israel Palestine conflict, so this is the obvious example to reference.

And the 3rd form of response, much like the 2nd, is to justify these crimes against civilians as an act of rebellion, but go one step further and laugh about it. Saying things like "play stupid games, win stupid prizes 🤣🤣", "Imfao at Israelis suddenly pretending to be victims", making wojak memes and spamming them to the people expressing distress over seeing that video of the dead woman, etc. See this example from a trans-identified man:

Notice how at no point have I said my opinion on the Israel Palestine conflict? Because I have one. And it's probably not what either side would expect. And that’s exactly the problem. My disgust at Palestinian men parading a dead Israeli woman through the streets and spitting on her is automatically interpreted to be me supporting the Israeli state.

But your political view on the conflict should have a 0% impact on this fundamental principle: as a feminist, you do not EVER, FUCKING EVER, think that a woman on "the other side" of a mens war deserves to die.

To accuse someone of not caring about dead Palestinian women, as pro-Palestine Twitter have been doing all day, to random stranger who simply said "this is horrific" re: the dead woman in the truck, is:

a) to project your own heartlessness toward women on "the other side" onto them.

b) to further normalise the glorification of violent men, under this false veneer of their crimes being a necessary and justified revolt against whatever type of oppression they have in their society. As if stripping a woman bare and parading her through the streets has ever been a practically useful or ethical war tactic.

And c) to imply that those on "the other side" deserve whatever cruel fate meets them, simply because the male class of their society committed unjustifiable crimes.

I cannot think of anything less pro-woman, anything less feminist, than that.

[counterpunches]

source

[transcript: [slide 1]

we are treated differently and we are so tired

[slide 2] From day one, we were treated differently: the celebrations

Hamas is an internationally-recognized terrorist organization that is explicit in its aim to annihilate Israel and the Jewish people in its very foundational charter. On October 7, 2023, thousands of Hamas terrorists invaded internationally-recognized sovereign Israeli territory and slaughtered 1,200 people in a matter of hours, the majority of them civilians. They went door to door, pulling people from their beds, maiming, mutilating, beheading, raping, and burning entire families alive. About 80 of the corpses showed signs of torture. They also took over 200 people hostage, including Holocaust survivors and a 9-month-old. It was the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust. Israel is a small country; had October 7 happened in the US, it would be the equivalent of individually slaughtering 50,000 Americans in a matter of hours.

Instead of expressing outrage, there were worldwide celebrations. In the West Bank, Gaza, and elsewhere in the Arab world, candy was handed out on the streets in celebration. In Gaza, thousands gathered to cheer as terrorists paraded mutilated corpses. A group of 3000 United Nations teachers expressed their joy at the murder and mutilation of Israelis, including young children. All over left-wing social media, people celebrated.

On October 8, before any Israeli retaliation whatsoever, crowds of thousands gathered in Times Square to express their support for the murderers, holding signs that declared "decolonization is not a metaphor" and "by any means necessary".

Fringe extremists exist, but this was hardly the fringe. And we know this is not a normal reaction. We did not see entire protests in Times Square in support of the Russian slaughter of Ukranians, 9/11, the ISIS genocide of Yazidis, the slaughter of Yemenis, the slaughter of Syrians, or any other atrocity.

[slide 3] From Day one, we were treated differently: the contextualization and qualification

Secretary General of the United Nations Anthony Guterres' initial response to the October 7 massacre was the following: "It is important to also recognize the attacks by Hamas did not happen in a vacuum."

First, let me make one thing clear: there is no context, in international law or anywhere else, that justifies or minimizes the slaughter, torture, and rape of civilians, including women, children, those with disabilities, and the elderly.

But beyond that, there is a glaring double standard when Israel is the victim of a massacre. Let's take a look at another example of terrorism as a guideline. When ISIS bombed an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, England on May 22, 2017, killing 22, Secretary General Guterres immediately "strongly condemned" the attack, and the Security Council released a statement, condemning "in the strongest terms the barbaric and cowardly terrorist attack" and extending its solidarity to the United Kingdom. No one said the attack had to be understood "in the context" of the UKs invasion of Iraq, the war against ISIS, or the UKs long history of colonialism in the region, and no one said that it did not happen in a vacuum.

Similarly, on October 7, millions of people rushed to social media to provide "context" for the cold-blooded, purposeful, and indiscriminate murder of civilians. Others, before their "condemnation" felt the need to clarify that they were not supporters of the Israeli government (okay, and?), when they've otherwise strongly condemned atrocities perpetrated on others, without feeling the need to qualify support (or lack thereof) for any other country's government.

[slide 4] From day one, we were treated differently: the victim blaming

On October 7, as the massacre was still unfolding, 31 Harvard University organizations released a statement holding Israel "entirely responsible" for the slaughter of its own citizens. I reiterate: as Israelis were still being slaughtered by the hundreds simply for being Jewish - or for being associated with Jews - we were told that our own slaughter was our fault.

They were not the only ones to do so. Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Syria, Iran, and Iraq blamed Israel for the October 7 slaughter. Black Lives Matter Chicago blamed Israel for the October 7 slaughter. Labor unions across the US blamed Israel for the October 7 slaughter. The list goes on.

After the Israeli newspaper Haaretz published an article in which one anonymous police officer said that the police is looking into the possibility that some of the victims of the Nova music festival were killed by fire from an IDF military chopper, antisemites took the statement out of context, distorted it, and disseminated it all over the media and internet.

In response to the Haaretz article, the Israeli police put out a statement that the investigation was only in regard to police activities on October 7, not military activities, and that as such, they do not have any indication about the harm to any civilians due to any aerial activity there."

Regardless, the conspiracy has taken a life of its own, so much so that Palestinian Authority president Mahmoud Abbas accused Israel of carrying out the massacre. Abbas later retracted his statement. A few other unverified reports have also similarly taken out of context to "prove" that Israel was actually behind its own massacre.

To this day, we are told, in response to released hostage testimony that Israeli women are being raped in the Hamas tunnels, that it's justified because "they were soldiers." For what it's worth, no one's rape is justified - even when they're soldiers.

[slide 5] A few days later came the denial

The 10/7 massacre was live-streamed by the perpetrators on their own social media platforms.

Initially, antisemites celebrated. After more and more heinous, indefensible details started to come out, antisemites started denying it happened at all.

To reiterate: the massacre was live-streamed to social media - by the perpetrators. We all saw it in the early hours of October 7. The perpetrators have gone on to boast about it since. For example, on January 10, the leader of the Hamas political bureau, Ismail Haniyeh, said, "We should hold on to the victory that took place on October 7 and build upon it."

The level of denial - just a few days after October 7 - is so pervasive that Israel had to compile a 47-minute film of footage with the most graphic, dehumanizing video evidence to screen for international reporters, government officials, and more.

But no amount of evidence seems to be enough. No independent investigators are enough. No video footage is enough. No survivor or eyewitness testimony is enough. Why are people denying what's before their very eyes? Why?

[slide 6] Then the one-sided demands.

From October 7, there were already demands on Israel - on Israel, as its civilians were massacred - to ceasefire. These demands came from important voices, including American Congresspeople, groups such as UNICEF, and more. These calls made little, if any, mention of Hamas, the perpetrator of the October 7 massacre.

No other country would be asked, as a slaughter of their people was still unfolding, to lay down their arms.

Since then, the calls for Israel - and only Israel - to ceasefire have been incessant. They have continued even as Hamas vowed, on October 24, that "there will be a second, a third, a fourth" October 7. When asked to clarify, in the same interview, whether they meant the complete annihilation of Israel, the senior Hamas official responded, "Yes, of course."

The calls for Israel to ceasefire continued as Yaha Sinwar, the architect of the October 7 massacre, promised on November 30 that "October 7 was just a rehearsal."

The calls for Israel to ceasefire continued as Hamas violated the terms of the temporary ceasefire every single day between November 24 and December 1.

The calls for Israel to ceasefire as Hamas has fired over 13,000 missiles at Israeli civilians. Even more infuriating, the calls for a ceasefire are often made hand in hand with calls to "globalize the Intifada." An intifada is an armed uprising; it's incompatible with a ceasefire.

The calls for Israel to ceasefire have continued as Hamas has rejected several ceasefires in the past several weeks. At this point, those calling for a ceasefire should be honest: what they care is that Israel ceases, but they are not particularly bothered (or even support) when Hamas fires.

[slide 7] The genocide accusations

There are 153 countries that have signed the Convention of 1948. Before this January, only two had ever been brought to trial before the International Court of Justice. Of the signatories, a number of them have been accused of genocidal acts after signing the Convention, including Azerbaijan, China, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Ethiopia, Palestine, Sudan, Syria, and more.

Only Israel, however, is put on trial, which is all the more egregious when we consider that the events post-October 7 are in response to a massacre of Israelis that Genocide Watch classified as "an act of genocide."

What's even more egregious is that South Africa, which has brought this case before the ICJ, maintains close relationships with genocidal dictators, including Russia's Vladimir Putin and Sudan's Omar al-Bashir. It is a close ally of the Islamic Republic of Iran, Hamas' patron, which has been brutally oppressing the people of Iran since 1979. South Africa even hosted Hamas officials for a "solidarity" event in December 2023 - two months after the October 7 massacre.

Per the Hamas Ministry of Health, 23,000 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza; Israel claims at least 9,000 of them are Hamas combatants. While any civilian death is tragic, there are far deadlier wars and atrocities happening around the globe right at this very second. In Yemen, nearly 400,000 have been killed and a million have died in a famine. In Syria, over 600,000 have been killed. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, 6 million have been killed. In Ukraine, at least 100,000 have been killed. The list goes on and on. In many of these cases, the perpetrators of the atrocities - some of them South Africa's closest allies - have explicitly expressed genocidal intent. Yet South Africa hasn't found it necessary to bring them before the International Court of Justice. Only the Jewish state.

[slide 8] Feminist advocates are suddenly silent - or worse, accuse us of lying

Perhaps among the most infuriating responses to the October 7 massacre has been the response of so-called feminists and feminist organizations.

On October 7, and every day since, Hamas weaponized rape as a tool of war, which is not only a war crime, but a crime against humanity. There is a preponderance of evidence, including extensive forensic evidence, eyewitness testimony, perpetrator confessions, and survivor testimony.

Yet the Women's March has not condemned Hamas' weaponization of rape as a tool of war; instead, it has only called for a ceasefire. Me Too has not condemned Hamas' weaponization as a tool of war. UN Women did not condemn Hamas' massacre until December 2, nearly two months after October 7, after intense public pressure from Israelis and the Jewish community.

Angelina Jolie, perhaps the most vocal global activist against the weaponization of rape as a tool of war, has said absolutely nothing about Hamas' war crimes; instead, she has asked Israel to ceasefire.

[slide 9] Double standard: legitimacy

Israel is condemned more than any other nation in the world, but the double standard doesn't end there. Israel's real or perceived crimes are blown out of proportion in comparison to other countries' real or perceived crimes, but the double standard doesn't end there. Israel's suffering is minimized, contextualized, denied, or qualified in comparison to the suffering of other countries, but the double standard doesn't end there. Instead, there is another double standard: everything coming out of Hamas' mouth is immediately taken as fact, while everything that comes out of Israel is questioned.

This is not merely a matter of "feeling" like there is a double standard.

On October 17, an explosion went off at the Al Ahli Hospital parking lot. Within minutes, Hamas claimed that an Israeli airstrike had targeted the hospital, killing 471 people. Israel claimed that a Palestinian Islamic Jihad missile misfired and hit the hospital. But the BBC ran with Hamas' story. This triggered worldwide outrage, inciting anti-Jewish riots in the Arab world and in Russia. Eventually, most international independent investigations corroborated Israel's version of events. But by the time the media retracted its original claim - that is, what Hamas said - it was too late. Two Jews had already been killed in Tunisia in retaliation for a massacre that Israel never actually committed.

Then there is the issue of the hostage videos. Hostage videos are hostage videos because they are made under duress. The hostage is told what to say; otherwise, their life is in danger. Hamas, of course, has coerced the Israeli hostages into saying that they are being treated well. These statements, made with a gun to the head, have been taken as fact, so much so that prominent figures such as Shaun King have gushed over Hamas' so-called "humane" treatment of the hostages (that they brutally abducted after murdering their entire families and friends before their eyes).

Yet, now that over a hundred hostages have been released, and they are no longer under threat from Hamas, they are coming out with stories of abuse and torture. Suddenly, no one believes these accounts, claiming that Israel must have told them what to say. It's absolutely absurd and defies all logic.

[slide 10] support my work

venmo: @rootsmetals cash app: $rootsmetals paypal: @debbie@rootsmetals.com

complete bibliography for this post: patreon.com/rootsmetals

disclaimer: the intent of this post is to educate, raise awareness, and challenge hate speech]

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Seven - Halloween

W/C: 10K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Or where you show up to the town's biggest Halloween Bash and you unexpectantly take on the roll of a babysitter.

A/N: this is a long one..and tbh some of it isn't edited...but i'm super excited about this one but also nervous.

Masterlist

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Bass bumped through the unfamiliar house, vibrating all the way down the driveway and to the street where you stood.  Shouting could be heard, no doubt a collection of drunks getting overly excited about something usually mundane.  Fog smothered the driveway, a decision you felt was made by someone sober at the time of setting it up only to neglect the fact that everyone would be wasted by the time it got dark, sending people tumbling down the driveway in their drunken state.  It did add to the atmosphere though, a nice touch that gave it that eerie, spooky feel the owner was probably going for.  

As you trekked up the lengthy and steep driveway, a mock graveyard sat to the right, taking up the space that would usually be the front yard.  Fake limbs stuck out of the dirt and splatters of blood painted the plastic headstones.   A lonely skeleton sat propped up against one, his arm hanging around it as if it were his good friend.  Some pumpkins appeared to be slaughtered and littered throughout the yard, the guts surely rotting in the grass and in one of the trees, hung a hopefully fake body, swaying in the chilly breeze.

From what you had heard, the owners went all out every year, Halloween night being their specialty.  The closer to the house you got, the louder the music and the louder the voices got.  Donnie had told you that it would be a rager but you severely underestimated her words and took them as a joke.  You were already hesitant to even attend but now, you were fully questioning if you should even dare to step through the door.  It’d be smart to turn around now and go home, maybe watch a few movies and indulge in that candy you’d bought and placed in a large bowl on the coffee table at home.  Half of it was gone of course, you stealing a piece here and there throughout the past week.  You could stuff your face with the rest if you left now.  

No. 

You had to be brave and walk through that door with confidence.  Even if it was fake.  You were never going to meet new people if you kept hiding away in your tower.  This town was never going to feel like home if you didn't start treating it like it.  Donnie was the closest person you had to a friend and as much as you appreciated her, she was more than half your age and had a whole family already.  She mentioned that people ‘your age’ would definitely be at this party, everyone went to this party.

You can’t miss it.  She assured.

But on another hand, no one would miss you anyway, no one ever did.  Even if they did know of you.  There was no harm in trekking back down the driveway and rushing home to snuggle up in your pajamas, right?

No, you have to do this.  You have to push yourself out of your comfort zone even if it feels like you're diving off a cliff.  But what if everyone stares at you?  And whispers about how they didn’t invite you?  Donnie promised anyone who’s anyone attends this party, even people from a few town’s over who hear about it from a friend of a friend.  So why couldn’t you shake the feeling that you just didn’t belong?  That you were intruding.  

Everyone’s gonna hate me.

It was especially embarrassing that you were wearing a Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz costume.  It wasn’t even all that out there but you felt so uncomfortable without your standard wardrobe.  You felt as if your ruby red glittery heels would suddenly draw unwanted attention, your pigtails making a mockery out of you even if just for the costume.  Everyone dressed up so why were you the exception?  Why were you the only one they would single out, especially in such a common Halloween costume?  You were sure there would probably be much more flamboyant costumes, ghouls and goblins covered in blood, zombies with ungodly amounts of face paint, and even vampires with those ridiculous plastic teeth.  No one made fun of them so why were you so insecure?

Every possible outcome ran through your brain while you stalled on the doormat.  That is until two men dressed in chicken suits bursted through the door, cackling while they set up for a smoke break on the front porch, completely missing you as you stood there terrified.  They leaned over the railing as they went on, slurring about how crazy it was that someone had somehow punctured a hole in the keg, a seemingly impossible task.  

You took the opportunity to slip in through the cracked door, gently closing it behind you as you entered the chaos that was the famous Knife’s Edge Halloween Bash.  Strobe lights flashed in the corners of what you could make out as the living room and the regular light bulbs in the ceiling were all switched out for purple and green, adding to the ambience.  The floor was hidden beneath a sea of people dancing their hearts out to Thriller by Michael Jackson, some attempting to actually perform the dance, and others simply flailing their limbs around and hoping for the best.  

A rather convincing mummy was stealing the show, everyone else creating a circle around him as he danced like no one was watching.  Not one person glanced your way, either too intoxicated to notice or just unbothered seeing as there were already over a hundred people occupying the house.  The line of cars you’d seen up and down the street should have given that away but to be fair, you were too busy running circles in your head and rehearsing how you were going to walk in.  All of that went straight to the garbage once you saw the nature of the place.  

Everyone was too caught up in having fun to take note of a timid Dorothy sneaking through the front door.  Fun.  Something you couldn’t see yourself having unless you had at least a drink or two in you.  It’s sad but it was the only way to loosen up around such a large volume of people. Sobriety was not an option unless you wanted to remain an anxious fly on the wall.  

The only issue was finding the source of alcohol, more than likely in the kitchen which you had yet to locate.  In order to get anywhere, you would have to weave through the crowd of sweaty bodies, the smell of tequila and beer already filling your nostrils just by standing a few feet away from them.  

Taking a deep breath, you clutch your little wicker basket close to your body and begin squeezing in between people with a polite ‘excuse me’ accompanying every accidental touch.  Along the way you pass a preppy cheerleader, a few stereotypical vampires, a cowboy and a cow, a dentist, and some guy with a fake chainsaw covered in fake blood.  You’re finally able to see your destination just through a large archway, relief already finding you as you inch closer and closer. 

The kitchen’s fluorescent lighting is a major contrast to the purple and green throughout the rest of the house.  It still follows the spooky theme, however, with an orange tablecloth draped over the island and purple and orange streamers hanging from the doorway.  On the island sits a large punch bowl filled with mysterious red liquid along with a stack of red cups and a few choices of liquor next to it.  A bowl of pretzels and some Halloween themed cupcakes are placed next to that, and at the other end, is a bucket of candy along with some various kinds of chips.  

Hanging from the chandelier is a homemade ghost using a torn sheet, the eyes and mouth filled in with sharpie.  The floor is sticky as you slowly make your way forward, most likely the mysterious liquid that had been spilled several times throughout the night already.  More shouting can be heard from the living room, some kind of dance off being announced that you would gladly hide from.  So far, you didn’t recognize anyone although it would be pretty difficult to seeing as everyone was dressed up.

Gingerly, you grab a cup and scoop the smallest amount of the mystery liquid in.  Upon taking the tiniest sip, you can determine that it's some kind of jungle juice.  A hangover in a cup.  With disgust written on your face, you discreetly throw out the remaining juice in the sink, instead opting to take a shot or two to loosen up.  Maybe just one for now.  You learned your lesson when taking four straight tequila shots at a time and didn’t need a repeat.  Especially at a party with several hundred people as witnesses.

So you fill the bottom of your cup with some whiskey, a generous shot.  Throwing it back, it goes down a lot smoother than that tequila had, the burn being mild but still causing your face to twist.  The cup is discarded in the trash, cutting yourself off before you can get ahead so as not to get absolutely wasted within minutes.  If you had an appetite, you’d snatch one of those delicious looking cupcakes but unfortunately, you needed to pace yourself.  Nerves and alcohol didn't make for the most stable stomach and you were already feeling queasy just from the mere thought of having to socialize with strangers.  

Exploring further into the house, you exit through the other archway leading into a dining room that displays even more food than the kitchen, a whole buffet laid out for guests including potato salad, macaroni salad, various horderves, snack mix, a giant bowl of M&Ms, and more.  A dream for a child, dinner and dessert all in one.  

A few partygoers were scooping some food onto their plates, chatting about who knows what while you moved on to the next room which appeared to be the family room.  The TV played some kind of horror film while absolutely no one watched it, the room almost empty aside from a couple in the corner making out.  

A few pops and some celebratory yells are heard just out the back sliding door, drawing you in.  The closer you got,  you could see someone dressed as a scarecrow holding a bottle of champagne overflowing onto the deck.  You were curious as to what everyone was celebrating but got cold feet when you reached for the handle, your hand glued to it but not putting any effort into actually sliding it open.  Just as you decided you were going to chicken out and find a corner to hang out in instead, someone points at the door, outing you, causing your blood to run cold in embarrassment.  When the scarecrow turns around, you can see that it's Donnie, face paint pulling her whole look together.  

At the sight of you, her face lights up, hands thrown up in excitement as the champagne she’s holding sloshes over and further coats the deck.  She doesn’t seem to mind, as she hands off the bottle to someone else and makes her way over to the door, sliding it open.  Your cheeks begin to feel hot as people stare at the interaction, unwanted attention that you could’ve escaped had you been quicker.  

“You made it!”  She just about squeals, giving you a tight squeeze.  

She had clearly had a few drinks, unafraid of any affection as she previously stated that she hated friendly affection of any kind, more prone to use her words to show appreciation.  But you didn’t mind, Donnie was the one person you were comfortable with and your one friend so if she happened to show affection while under the influence, so be it.  And maybe by her doing so, you wouldn’t appear to be such a freak to what seemed to be her friends.  Maybe it would grant you acceptance into their circle.  

“I made it.”  You repeat with a polite smile.

“So we were just popping some champagne we found.”  Donnie explains.  “No rhyme or reason, we just found it inside and thought, hell lets just go at it.”

Nodding, you try to appear as enthusiastic as possible, covering up your anxiety to the best of your ability.  People were still staring at you and it was proving difficult to just ignore it, holes practically being burned into you.  A few of them you recognized as regulars at the bar but the rest were complete strangers.  Either way, you were intimidated.  

“You want some?”  Donnie offers to which you begin shaking your head frantically.

“No, no, I’m okay!  I already had something and I have to drive later anyway.”  You explain.

Donnie nods understandingly before starting a dreadful introduction to the group.  She points out Brian, Sam, and Wyatt, her sons who were fully grown, the oldest Brian, being around thirty.  You didn’t catch who was the youngest or middle since Donnie was talking so fast.  Then she reintroduces you to her husband, Nathan, who you had previously met at the supermarket though Donnie didn’t seem to remember in her current state.  Then there were the owners of the house, Crystal and Gabriel, a very nice couple in their forties who made Halloween their night and everyone knew it.  Apparently Thanksgiving was Donnie and Nathan’s holiday according to a little comment uttered by Crystal.  There were what seemed to be a dozen more introductions though you couldn’t recall every single person.  You only remember Donnie skimming by an introduction to Jett’s mom, Kristy who seemed like a lovely woman.

Thankfully, once everyone was acquainted with you, they seemed to move one rather quickly and continued on with their festivities.  A fire pit sat in the middle of the deck, crackling away while a few individuals rested on the chairs circling it, warming themselves up.  Some orange lights were wound around the railing accompanied by some fake cotton spiderwebs.  Everyone held a drink in their hand except you and you were starting to regret not at least carrying your empty cup with you to occupy your awkward hands.  Rookie mistake.

Your breathing becomes increasingly shallow with each passing second, panic settling in as you attempt to remember how to act like a person.  You almost contemplate rushing off to the bathroom to hide but quickly scrap the idea, knowing Donnie may take notice.  Instead, you stupidly shuffle your feet in place, trying to ground yourself with no luck.  

In your inner turmoil, you can vaguely hear everyone else engaging in conversation about their lives or some silly story.  Something you didn’t care to tune into as your inner monologue chants at you to run.  Even with the one shot that you thought would relax you, you still feel your shoulders tensing and your jaw tightening anxiously.  If anyone were to initiate small talk with you right now, you’d come off like a dunce, thoughts unable to form gracefully.  Tonight was definitely a bad idea and you should’ve just stayed home where you knew your place.

Uncomfortably, you remain standing as everyone passes around the champagne.  There was no way to dismiss yourself without seeming like you were rude and awkward.  This was hell.  

“Okay, elders!”  You hear a familiar voice from around the corner, steps clunking up the deck stairs.  “We got your drugs, now pay up.”  

Jett emerges, a second pair of steps heard behind him.  He’s dressed like a greaser, hair slicked back as he wears a white shirt tucked into his tight jeans.

“We got the goodies!”  Eddie singsongs from behind him, dangling a plastic bag full of weed.  

Eddie seems to be dressed as…himself?  With a bit of smudged eyeliner.  His torso is covered with his standard black leather jacket and he’s pretty much wearing what he wears in his day to day.  Except when he dramatically flings his leather jacket at Jett, he sports a very revealing cut off shirt, all ripped and torn.  And his fingernails are painted black.

“Jeez, Eddie!  You’re gonna catch a cold, put that back on or go inside!”  Donnie scolds.

“‘M fine.”  He mutters, tossing the weed at Jett who just barely catches it as he drops Eddie’s jacket to the floor.

Donnie sighs, giving up on the argument seeing that Eddie was too stubborn to listen.  Suddenly you feel yourself warm up, the chill October air no longer pinching at your cheeks as they grow hot again.  Not out of embarrassment this time. 

“Gon’ get ‘nother beer.”  Eddie mumbles, stumbling toward you though he doesn’t realize it yet.

“That kid gives me a headache and he’s not even mine.”  Donnie says.

“Hey!”  Eddie whines, turning back toward the group mid stride.  “You claimed me ‘s one ‘f your own, ‘member?”  He points at her.

Several people chuckle at the scene while Donnie rolls her eyes and waves him off.  He was clearly a lot more intoxicated than everyone else.  His waddle toward the sliding door is evidence enough.  

“Drink some water, boy.”  Nathan advises.

“‘Rink some water.”  Eddie mocks in a high pitch to himself while hiccuping before colliding into your shoulder.  “Oh shit.”

Stumbling backwards, you stabilize yourself while his hands reach out and rest a bit too comfortably on top of your shoulders, heavy handed.  Almost as if he were using you to keep himself up.  When you dare to glance up, you’re met with heavy, glazed over eyes, bloodshot and decorated in smeared black liner.  His lips paint a perfectly content smile as he sways back and forth, unbalanced.

“Bambi.”  He cooes.

“Hi.”  You whisper, startled like a mouse.

“Heyyy.”  He draws out eyes becoming even heavier if possible.

“Um—“

“Munson, get off ‘er.”  Jett laughs, shoving Eddie to the side.  He manages to save himself from face planting into the deck, leaning himself against the side of the house.

“Should kick ‘yr ass.”  Eddie mutters, glaring at Jett.

“No one wants you leanin’ on ‘em like that!”  Jett defends.  “Hey, Bambi.”  He greets you.

At this, Eddie appears enraged, his face visibly going red as he shoots Jett a glare that no one would want to be on the receiving end of.  Everyone else seemed to have moved on, paying no mind to Eddie’s sudden shift in mood.

“Hi, Jett.”  You reply, a friendly grin gracing your lips.

With a grunt, Eddie pushes off the wall and storms inside, evidently pissed about something.  Jett shares the same confused expression as you, shrugging while he starts asking how you are, if you’re enjoying the party, and if you’d seen the huge array of food they had out yet.  You answer all of his questions to his satisfaction but mentally, you’re trying to track Eddie down.  Trying to understand what set him off and made him leave with such irritation.  Had this been the first week you met him, you would’ve dismissed it as his normal temper but now that you’d known him for almost two months and gotten to know how his emotions function, you knew better. 

He had also clearly been under the influence which could mean nothing happened and his emotions were just sensitive.  But you had a strong suspicion that there was a definite reason he abruptly got angry and rushed inside.  No one else seemed to notice, aside from you and Jett.  And he obviously paid no mind and didn’t intend on going after Eddie so maybe you were missing something.  Or maybe everyone was also blinded by their intoxication and you were the only sound minded individual in the group right now.

“Oh and then—“

“I think I’m gonna head inside, it’s kinda cold out here.”  You interrupt Jett’s tangent on his and Eddie’s journey down the road to collect the weed they had been sent to pick up.

“Oh well just take this.”  He says, snatching up Eddie’s jacket off the ground and handing it to you.

You should’ve come up with a different excuse though to be fair, you didn’t think he’d hand you Eddie’s jacket.  He was supposed to follow your lead and let you go inside.  Wasn’t he concerned about Eddie too? 

“T-thank you.”  You clutch the jacket in your hand, draping it over your forearm.

“Yeah!  So we were just walking—“

“Jett, I’m sorry I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”  You cut him off again.

You felt bad for seeming so uninterested in what he had to say but you couldn’t go much longer without knowing if Eddie had gotten himself into trouble.  He was super out of it from what you could tell and it was eating away at you.  It only made it worse that he was so angry and if you were the most sober one at the party, it would be in your hands if something happened to him and you knew he had run off.

“Okay—“

Before Jett can get another word in, you spin on your heel and rush inside, the music still blaring and everyone still screaming from the living room.  The whole house felt like it was vibrating, your body buzzing as the bass dropped.  That same couple still remained in the corner making out, their stamina impressing you.

Entering the kitchen, there’s no sight of Eddie, only a few guests topping off their drinks and toasting to themselves loudly.  Realistically, you should take another shot to calm your nerves but this nightmare of an evening needed to be cut short and you would need to drive home as soon as you found him and returned him to the group.  

Dreadfully walking yourself back into the living room where the heart of the party beats, you focus on each individual, attempting to spot the one dressed in all black with almost no shirt, tattoos, and a head full of brown curls.  It proves to be more difficult since the lighting was so dim and the strobe lights left you seeing spots.  

Everyone seems to be having the time of their life and here you are, worried sick about someone who never thinks twice about you.  Even before he arrived you were having the worst time and wanted to go home immediately.  Halloween would’ve been perfect if you stayed home where you couldn’t make a fool of yourself in front of people.  

“Tequila!”  A woman dressed as a slutty maid shouts, carrying a tray full of shots past you, only eliciting a gag from the back of your throat at the smell.  “No tequila for you then.”  She jokes, you shaking your head as you cover your nose.

It was obvious that Eddie wasn’t going to hit the dance floor after getting so infuriated. Unless that’s the first thing he would do in his state?  You weren’t completely sure but you were almost certain that he wouldn’t.  As a large group gathers around for shots, you manage to escape down a hallway where you imagine the bathroom might be.  It’s completely dark, the only light coming from underneath a door on the left, probably the bathroom.  At the end of the hall is what looks like a bedroom, the moonlight shining in from the blinds to just barely reveal a bed.  

No one seemed to be in said bed, an empty room for people to crash in at the end of the night.  Eddie could be in the bathroom but you’d have to be sure before leaving.  With a shy knock on the door, struggle to hear any voice that might respond.  Pressing your ear to the door, you try again, only to be met with the annoyed voice of a woman saying she’ll be out in a second and that she was fixing her lipstick.

Clearly not Eddie.

At this point you’ve covered the downstairs, no sign of the man so far.  He would be good at hide and seek, you assume.  Or maybe you’re just the blind.  Retracing your steps back out into the living room, you collide with a few bodies, none of them paying any mind to the impact as they continue to dance, flailing around like rag dolls.  You didn’t think it was possible for the room to get any more humid but you were proven wrong, sweat grazing your arms as you pass by and attempt to avoid touching anyone, failing miserably.  

Your perfect ruby heels are starting to kill you, digging into your skin in all the wrong places, making it more difficult to walk with every step you take.  You know for sure that come the morning, you’ll have blisters that will be bothering you for days.  Reluctantly, you slide them off and scoop them up, dangling them by your fingers, Eddie’s jacket still hanging off your arm.  You were becoming a walking closet.

Going upstairs didn’t seem like a great decision seeing as this wasn’t your house and you didn’t want to give Crystal and Gabriel the impression that you liked to snoop around.  Although, if someone did see you, you could just vouch for yourself by saying you were looking for a bathroom and the downstairs one was taken already.  So up you went, nervously glancing behind you.  The coast seemed clear, not one person paying you any mind, the party still capturing their undivided attention.

Like magic, Eddie appears as you reach the top of the stairs, leaning against one of the doors as he weakly knocks, his forehead pressed to the wood.  He was gorgeous, the perfect image of an 80’s rockstar gone 90’s.  His back was nearly on display, shoulders all broad and waist lean.  You could make out bat wings tattooed symmetrically on his shoulder blades and something along his ribs.  The sight flustered you but you were here for one purpose and that was to retrieve him and get him back to Donnie so she or someone else could keep an eye on him.

“Dude, ‘urry up!”  He whines into the door,  pounding on it with more force.  “Hafta piss ‘n maybe throw u—up.”  He hiccups.

You want to giggle but quickly remember how miserable that feeling is, your stomach rejecting you and releasing its contents in protest of the alcohol you continue to bombard it with.  You realize that no light pours out from underneath the door which meant the bathroom had to be available.

“Eddie, I don’t think anyone’s in there.”  You offer, slowly walking up behind him.  

“Pfft, it’s locked.”  He scoffs, hitting his forehead against the wood with a thump.

When you reach your hand toward the handle and twist the door open, he gasps, nearly falling head first into the bathroom.  It wasn’t thought through, opening a door with a grown man leaning his full weight onto it.  Luckily, he catches himself, hands gripping the countertop as he sways.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”  You hiss, voice tinged with regret.

“‘S okay.”  He mumbles, pulling his zipper down.

“Oh!”  Covering your eyes, you shut the door.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“Eddie, I am not standing in there with you while you pee!”  You yell through the door.

“God.”  He groans, a stream following.  “Just—I know!”

“I’ll stand right here and make sure you don’t fall and hit your head, okay?”  You bargain.

“Okay.”

After several seconds, you don’t hear any movement, worry kicking in once again.  He couldn’t have hit his head, you would’ve heard it.  What if he passed out but didn’t hit anything?  It was pathetic, the way worry would grow inside you solely for him.  Just when you begin a countdown to burst through the door to check on him, you can hear the unmistakable sound of him puking his guts out.  Now you wonder if you should go in anyway and hold his hair back.  

Dry heaving is heard through the door, the awful sound the only thing you can focus on.  You can’t take it anymore.  You can only hope he remembered to zip his pants back up in his drunken state.  Opening the door, you reveal Eddie hunched over the toilet, his hair draped over his shoulders, clearly in his way.  You rush to his side, dropping your heels and his jacket in the process and collecting his curls in your hands, pulling them back as he breathes heavily, drool hanging from his mouth.  His eyes are wet and his hands are shaky as they grip the toilet seat.  You feel as if he should be vomiting in your lap for payback for puking on him that one night.  

“Ah shit.”  He complains, shaking his head.  “Round two, get o—out”.  He gags.

Throw up was the embodiment of the most disgusting thing you could ever think of, smell and everything but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at this moment.  Even with his clammy skin and pukey lips.

“It’s okay, just let it out.”  You encourage him, hesitantly running a hand over his back, regretting doing so as you feel the muscles under his skin tense.

“Seriously, out.”  He almost vomits, swallowing it down.  

The action alone should be enough to have you jumping up and leaving but you stay.  

“Eddie, just puke it all up.  It’s fine.  I’m gonna hold your hair.”  You tell him.

He shudders, glancing over at you with his bloodshot eyes.  It’s like he’s shooting daggers at you before his eyes soften involuntarily, irises becoming that caramel toned warmness you were becoming more and more familiar with.  His pupils are dilated, huge planets in the middle of his eyes, clearly high and drunk though you still recognize the puppy dog-look he was giving you.  

“Eddie, if you don’t puke right now—“

As if on command, he lunges forward and spews out the rest of his stomach.  The sound makes you wince but you try to hide it as best as you can for his sake.  It’s not his fault his body is reacting to the substances he put into his body.  Maybe it is his fault since he put those substances into his body but regardless, you felt for him.  Once it has to come out, it has to come out and there’s no going back.  

“There you go.”  You soothe, fingertips gently raking up and down his spine.

“Fuck.”  He whispers into the bowl, spitting out a huge glob of saliva. It would repulse you if it were anyone else.

“It’s okay.”  You whisper just as quietly.

Grabbing the toilet paper and folding it a few times, you rip it and hand it to him to clean himself up.  You linger for a few seconds, waiting for him to grab it but he only continues to stare into the toilet bowl, hands braced on either side.  Just when you’re about to speak up again, he goes in for a third round.  You can’t help but feel bad for him even if the smell is nauseating you.  

“You want some water?”  You offer, standing up in preparation to go find him some.

“No, stay.”  He blindly grabs the hem of your dress, wiping his mouth with his forearm.

He didn’t seem to have a follow up reason as to why he wanted you to stay but you do anyway.  It was still a concern of yours that he stayed hydrated but you would tuck the thought aside momentarily to appease him.  

“Okay, what do you need?”  

Finally, he relaxes, his stomach seemingly empty now as he sits back against the wall.  A sigh leaves his lips, relief slipping off of them as he gazes up at the ceiling.  Shutting his eyes, he shows no indication of responding anytime soon, his pale face exhausted.  Sitting down beside him was your best bet, that way if he did decide that he needed to spill his guts again, you were there to assist.  And it was especially comforting to sit there just in case he passed out since he was at risk of hitting his head against something.  He was obviously still out of it, sobriety seeping in very slowly, the room more than likely spinning from his perspective.

“Dizzy?”  You ask.

“Mhm.”  He hums, squeezing his eyes shut as if it would aid in steadying the room.

“You need water.”

“Mm.”  He disagrees, shaking his head.

“Yes, it’ll help with the dizziness…probably.”  You tell him, standing up once again.

This time he doesn’t protest, the message sinking in.  You do, however, worry what could happen in the seconds that you’re gone.  But, you have no other options right now.

“Stay here—Eddie, stay here.  Do you hear me?  Don’t move.”  You try to drill into his brain.

All he offers is a weak nod, unable to even open his eyes.  Satisfied enough with the response, you speed out of the bathroom and down the stairs into the kitchen.  It was easy enough to grab a cup and fill it with water, dodging the wasted party guests that had gathered around the counter to play some kind of drinking game.

“Hey, where did you run off to!”  Jett calls over to you.

Carefully, carrying the cup of water as not to spill, you turn around to meet his cheerful face.  He had clearly gotten into that weed stash as his eyes were even more bloodshot than Eddie’s and his face was the most relaxed you’d ever seen it.  And he was a pretty laid back guy so that was saying something.

“Oh, uh, Eddie’s not feeling good so I was just helping him out.”  You explain.

Jett offers a suspicious squint, eyes glimmering in mischief as he reaches for a cupcake.  

“What?”  You ask genuinely.

He shakes his head, sticking his hands up in surrender which only makes you question the strange boy further.  What was going on in that hyperactive mind of his?

“Nothin’”  He smirks, orange icing coating his upper lip.

You didn’t have time for him to elaborate, if you could even get him to.  You just needed to get back upstairs, you had already been gone for a few seconds too long, worry burying in your gut like a parasite.

“Okay, I have to get back to Eddie and make sure he hasn’t done something stupid.”

“Mmmhmm.”  Jett giggles.

If only you had the time to interrogate him and inquire as to why he found that so funny.  But you didn’t.  Leaving him behind to laugh to himself, you can just barely make out one last word as you turn on your heel.

“Lovebirds.”

Your eyes grow ten times bigger as you scurry away.  Did he think that’s what this was?  That you were on your way to hook up with your boss?  Did it look that way to everyone else?  Jett was going to rat you out for something you weren’t even doing, you were convinced.  No matter how nice of a guy Jett proved he was, he was higher than a kite and could start up a rumor like wildfire if he relayed his suspicion to anyone.  It’s possible you were being paranoid but come the morning, if there were rumors floating around, you knew exactly who to blame.

Trying to shake the butterflies you felt taking your stomach hostage, you concentrate on getting the water upstairs without spilling a drop.  It was evident that you had filled the cup a tad too high, giving you even more of a challenge.  As you conquer the stairs, you anxiously peer around the corner into the bathroom, hoping and praying that Eddie had listened and didn’t move an inch.  Otherwise, you were on another goosechase for a six foot tall metalhead for the second time that night and respectfully, your organs wouldn’t be able to handle another spurt of anxiety like that.

Much to your relief, Eddie sits against the wall just as you had left him, eyes still shut tight and head bowed.  He doesn’t seem to hear your sock covered feet padding into the bathroom, not one muscle twitching.  

“Eddie.”  You call, holding the water in front of him.

No answer.

“Eddie?”  You say, more panicked.

Nothing.

“Okay, this isn’t funny, Eddie.  C’mon, drink the water.”  You tell him, gripping his chin as you examine him.  

His eyes seem to flutter beneath his eyelids, brows furrowing as his head resists your hand and leans toward gravity.  You continue to hold him up, giving his cheek a small pat.  A deep groan escapes him although he’s still practically sleeping.  

“Eddie.”  Shaking his shoulders, he only moves like a rag doll in your hold.  “Eddie, wake up.”

“Mmm.”  He grumbles, swatting your hands away.

“Okay, I gotta take you home.”  You decide, placing your hands on your hips, attempting to determine just how you were going to even get him into your car.

You couldn’t leave him here, he was still wasted.  You could leave him with Donnie and everyone to look after him but what was the point if you were going to go home anyway and he lived right next to you?  There was no use in making them babysitters if there was a more logical solution.  

“‘M fine.”  He says, curling up into a ball.

“No, Eddie, get up.  Get up.”  You try to be firm with him but he remains on the floor, comfy as ever with his hands tucked beneath his head.  “Shit.”  You sigh.

It was time to call in some reinforcements.

–

“Jesus Christ, he’s really fucked up isn’t he?”  Jett stares down at the figure of a sleeping Eddie on the bathroom floor, perfectly content.  

“Yeah, can you guys just carry him to my car and I can figure out the rest once I get home?”  You plead.

Jett and Nathan share a look of concern to which you raise your eyebrows in confusion, expecting an explanation.  They glance once more at Eddie’s sleeping body and then back up to you, appearing as if that had said everything though you were still lost.

“How are you…going to carry him out of the car?”  Nathan asks, his bushy gray eyebrows knit in thought.

In all fairness, you didn’t think far enough into the future.  If it were only you, you assume you would be required to drag his body across the yard and onto the porch before fishing out his keys and lugging him up onto his couch before leaving some water next to him and dismissing yourself.  The affair may take you over an hour considering Eddie was proving to be a stubborn drunk.  But you’d surely manage if it had to be done.

“I dunno, I’ll work something out.”  You tell him.

Nathan glances over to Jett once more, concerned expression only deepening as he peers back down at Eddie.  Jett shrugs, surrendering the decision to both of you.

“How ‘bout this.”  Nathan starts.  “We’ll follow you home and help you get him situated–”

“God, ‘m up!  ‘M up, okay!”  Eddie takes the three of you by surprise as he rapidly pushes off the floor and begins standing on wobbly legs.  

“You sure about that?”  Jett teases while Eddie stabilizes himself against the sink.

“Fuck off.”

Eddie’s aggravated demeanor persists once again, a pathetic puppy dog pout at his lips while his eyes become overshadowed by eyebrows, a stern scowl forming.  If it was meant to intimidate anyone, he was sadly mistaken.  Instead, Jett snickers behind his hand, attempting to hide his grin.

“I’m kidding, I’m just kidding.”  Jett continues to chuckle, avoiding Eddie’s harsh gaze.

“What is goin’ on here?”  Donnie emerges from the stairs.  

“Christ, ‘s go.”  Eddie murmurs, rolling his eyes.

Donnie’s face contorts in confusion at his attitude, something that if it were directed towards you, you wouldn’t think twice about.  It was no secret that his moodiness carried over even when he was intoxicated.  But you suppose she has a motherly hold on him and should he act up, she wasn’t afraid to confront him.  It didn’t matter how much taller or how grown of a man he was, she wouldn’t hesitate to pinch him by the ear and drag him off to give him a lesson in manners.

Obediently, Eddie backs down, his expression instantly relaxing.  His scowl is replaced with a blank face, any negative thoughts seeming to fall right out of his head.

“You’re leavin’?”  Donnie questions.

Rather than answering, Eddie shifts his gaze to you expectantly.  Like you were suddenly his keeper.  It was odd, going from being absolutely repulsive in his eyes when you’d first met him, to him essentially submitting to you so willingly.  He was wasted but it was still something you fondly tucked into the back of your mind to remember later, like a little postcard for yourself.

“I, uh, yeah.  I was just heading out and I thought…since we’re neighbors…”  You try to elaborate, only feeling as if you were digging yourself into a deeper hole as you remember Jett’s comment from earlier.

Low and behold, the brief glance you offer Jett only confirms it, a huge smirk displayed on his face just for you.  It was enough for the blood to rush into your cheeks, practically sizzling to the touch.

“You just got here.”  Donnie complains.

Jett puffs out his cheeks, offering some kind of communication that has Donnie reeling back on her previous statement.

“It is late though and if he’s really not feeling good…”  She reasons.

You weren’t stupid and you knew Jett was assuming the position of a wingman and somehow, he was able to convey that to Donnie in just one simple look.  And she ran with it, much to your surprise.  Eddie seemed to check out of any conversation, bags hanging underneath his eyes while they drooped in boredom, his tall frame leaning against the wall as he toyed with the chain attached to his jeans.

Externally, you were irked, irritation written all over your face, even a hint of disgust could be found within your features.  But internally, you were having quite the opposite reaction.  Those damn butterflies had started up again, whirling around in your stomach so intensely, you were beginning to think they were bees.  Your heart pounded in your ears, the tips of them becoming embarrassingly red and hot.  You didn’t know why, maybe it was the prospect of everyone else thinking you had some secret relationship going on or even a little fling and the fact that they seemed to be rooting for you.  It ignited the tiniest bit of excitement in you, you weren’t going to lie to yourself.  Even if there was truly nothing going on.

Within minutes, you had an entourage escorting you to your car, Nathan insisting that it was no issue if you’d rather him drive Eddie just in case he were to pass out again.  Though you were grateful, you didn’t see the trouble in making him drive all the way out to your street only to turn around and go right back to the party.  If Eddie passed out again, you’d splash some water on him and surely figure out a way to wake him.  Besides, he had started to become more alert since stumbling down the stairs and making the walk down the steep driveway.  Of course, you also required that he down some water before leaving, otherwise he could stay and let his friends have their fun and tease him about sleeping in front of the toilet, which he didn’t seem to like as he scrunched his face and grabbed the water from you.

Donnie had advised you to drive safely several times while Jett continued to poke fun at Eddie, only earning himself a sock to the shoulder.  Jett may not feel it now but in the morning there would be a good chance he’d have a nice purple bruise.  

At some point after you had stepped outside, a jacket was draped over your shivering shoulders.  Eddie’s jacket.  And seconds later, he walked ahead of you with his hands shoved in his pockets, no doubt trying to escape Jett’s teasing.  It was in that moment, surrounded by people who seemed to just…care, that you began to feel wanted.  While Donnie talked your ear off about keeping an eye out for deer, Nathan continuing to even offer to drive both of you home, assuring you that he didn’t mind in the slightest.  Eddie resting his jacket over your shoulders, even in his current state, and Jett…well Jett was being Jett but he still contributed to the warm and fuzzy feelings you were experiencing.  

It felt a lot like…family.

–

The cold glass soothes Eddie’s sweaty cheek, the surface fogging up with every breath as his finger taps away to a beat in his head on the center console.  The slumped position he had been in for the past five minutes was sure to awaken a few aches and pains in his spine but he didn’t budge.  The radio softly sounded through the car, some random pop song he could hardly make out.  His eyes followed tree after tree, nearly causing him to go cross-eyed as he kept up with the little game he made up in his head, counting each tree.  Sometimes he would get distracted by the pavement zooming by before continuing.

Not a word had been shared between you since the bathroom though it was an oddly comfortable silence.  It didn’t feel like you had to speak or fill in the gaps like you usually would, desperately clinging to words that you didn’t have in order to appease the other person.  The fact that Eddie was coming out of his drunken haze could have something to do with it but had it not been Eddie you were driving, you’re certain you would struggle to strike up a conversation as if it were required.

Glancing over at him, you can’t help but feel a small smile tug at your lips, his fingers drawing a smiley face into the fog he created with his breath.  You’d never seen him so content but perhaps you shouldn’t look too much into it.  A few beers and some weed would have that effect on anyone.  It was just pleasant to see him so laid back, the stressors of his life set aside for another time.  You could only hope he could appear the same way sober someday soon.  

“Where’s your family?”  Eddie suddenly mumbles, eyes still glued to the scenery outside.  

The question is out of the blue and the last thing you would expect from him.  Although he had taken somewhat of a liking to you, he’d never taken an interest in something so personal.  And you offered him that same respect.  

“What?”  You ask, sneaking a glance at him, your hands squeezing the wheel.

His focus shifts from the window to you, his body turning inward as he leans his cheek against the headrest, waiting for your response.  The way his lips pucker from his cheek squishing against the seat only makes your heart clench.  His large awaiting eyes reflect the moon and you find it hard to change the subject when they appear so patient and attentive.

“Um, well, they’re back in…back home.”  You answer simply.

“Where’s that?”

He looked the most inquisitive you’d seen him, body turned toward you, his attention not once wavering.  Instead of the usual knit brows he often wore, his features remained softer and full of wonder.  Lips parted and eyes twinkling, who were you to deny his efforts?  Even if he was slightly under the influence.  Worst case scenario, he doesn’t remember this conversation.

“California.” 

“Oh.”  

You didn’t know what kind of response you were expecting but for some reason, the one word was a bit too vague, self consciousness kicking in.  

“What about yours?”  You shift the spotlight over to him.

From what you can tell as you keep your focus on the road, his gaze drops while he collects his thoughts, his breathing going shaky for just a second before he regains his composure.  A hum deep in his throat notifies you that he’s ready to begin speaking again.

“Uh, don’t really have one.  Never really have.  Or, uh, I just don’t remember them?  Other than my uncle, Wayne.  He’s back…”  Eddie hesitates.  “He’s in Indiana.”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t know…”  You start to backtrack and although he was the one who initiated the conversation, maybe it was too bold of you to reverse the question.

“No, ‘s okay.”  He assures you, shaking his head, his curls flattening against the seat.

“You miss him?”

The car is silent again, aside from the radio playing quietly.  You fear you’ve said the wrong thing, struck some kind of a nerve that forced him to go mute.  No longer wanting to engage in the topic.  But when you peer over at him again briefly, he’s biting his lip, getting lost in his mind again before he decides on an answer.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I do.  He visits when he can.”  A sadness lurks beneath the surface of his monotone response, eyes growing shinier in the moonlight.  And then he wipes the slate clean, face devoid of emotion once again as he seems to shake his previous thoughts from his head.  “So what’s your deal?  What made you come all the way out here?”  

This is the part where you would shrug and offer no further insight into the corners of your mind that usually were kept isolated.  But when his gaze softens from the passenger seat like that–like he wants to know, like he cares, you wanted to give him the key to your contaminated brain and let him poke around all he wanted.  As long as he wanted.

“Well, uh, I love my family...”  You start, voice timid.  “But I was feeling super lost.  And like I was living for everyone else.  And when my dad passed months ago he left me his estate…left me everything…”

“I’m sorry.”  He says, sympathy coating his words.

You nod, a silent thank you before continuing.

“So I split it up with my family…then moved away.  Guess I wanted to…I dunno find myself?”  You laugh, as if you’d just told a joke.

Rather than laugh along, Eddie studies you with intent.  Like he’s searching for more, digging into your soul.  

“Why’s that funny?”  He asks.

“I just–I don’t know what I’m doing.”  You laugh again.

“Well, neither do I.”  He begins to chuckle.  “I mean look at me.”

Progressively, you both start to laugh harder, glancing at each other and reveling in the failures that you both had endured up until this moment.  It’s like you were slap happy, a snort threatening to escape you through your uncontrollable laughter.  

“Ah, fuck.”  Eddie exhales, a grin plastered to his face.  “Bar is going to shit, my government hush money has run out–”

“Your what?”  You question, amusement taking over your features.

“Nothing.”  

Suddenly, he has no desire to converse, his lips shut in a tight line as he once again turns his attention to the window.  

“Government hush money?”  You repeat.

With a roll of his eyes and a deep breath, you can tell he contemplates carefully as he chooses his next words.  

“Jesus Christ, I’m really not supposed to talk about it.”  He breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “But, fuck it I guess.”  He drops his hand from his face.

Pulling into your driveway, the gravel crunches under the tires before you kill the engine, headlights leaving you in the darkness.  Eddie has your full focus, your body turned toward him as you pull a knee up to your chest, resting your chin on top.  

“You don’t have to.”  You assure.  “I can just forget you ever said anything–”

“Honestly, it’ll probably do me some good to get it off my chest.”  He interrupts.  

At his insistence, you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue.  He fidgets with his rings nervously, pulling them off and putting them back on.  

“You, uh, you have to swear to never talk about it again.  To anyone.”  

“Promise.”  You whisper, sticking your pinky out.

A puzzled look crosses his face, looking from your pinky to you in uncertainty.  It was becoming apparent that he was sobering up, laziness no longer taking a hold of his eyelids and words coherent.  

“Pinky promise.”  You smile.

“Pinky promise?”  He still appears confused.

“Yeah, you never made a pinky promise before?”  

A small smile forces the corners of his mouth up, eyes shining with entertainment as he stares at your pinky.  Shaking his head, he rests his hands in his lap, almost bashfully.  A contrast to his usual prickly tendencies and forward personality.

“Well, I take pinky promises very seriously.  They can’t be broken.  So I pinky promise, I won’t mention this ever again.”  You stick your hand even further forward, awaiting his pinky.

“Yeah?”  He asks with a lopsided grin.  “How do I know you mean that?” 

“It’s a pinky promise, Eddie.”  You deadpan, as if he was supposed to know how eternally binding it was.

A few seconds pass, Eddie still looking from you to your pinky with round eyes, soft at the edges with something that resembles the innocence of a little boy.  His inner child was sparkling, pouring from him like a forbidden fountain that only you had the honor of witnessing.  When his pinky wraps around yours, his comically larger than yours, you can’t fight the way your heart flutters in response to the touch.  His warmth encompassing yours, melting together like the sweetest chocolate.

Then, once your pinkies part, he speaks of a horrifying earthquake, striking his home town and wreaking havoc on the innocent lives once lived.  He tells you of things that you would never in this lifetime believe, things that he was forced to believe within seconds, creatures that attacked him, putting him on his deathbed only to be revived and put in the hospital for weeks.  Of the horrifying manhunt for him, how he was a wanted man for things he was never responsible for, conveniently at the peak of satanic panic.  How he was blamed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, how the whole town pinned a murder on him.  How there are things he could never even begin to explain like how Chrissy, the head cheerleader at his highschool had died right in front of him.  And how she was the first girl he was actually interested in, only for her to die a horrific death before his eyes.  He didn’t go into detail, though you didn’t need him to.  You didn’t want him to re-live such trauma just to provide you further explanation.

Once all was said and done, once he was out of the hospital, he was arrested and sat in jail for a week or so, he couldn’t recall exactly how long.  His uncle trying everything, doing everything he could to bail him out but he didn’t come from money so that proved to fail, especially since no one was on his side, even a majority of the police.  He told you of Dustin and Lucas…of Max, Erika, Steve, Nancy, and Robin.  The people that had always been on his side even when he was the only suspect for murder.  The people he missed so dearly every day but could only see every so often when they could find time to visit.  Which they did.  He only wished he could go back home.  If he did, it would only spark up another riot and it was against his agreement with the government to even step foot in the state of Indiana.  

So when he was bailed out of jail, his friends all awaiting him just outside the station, it was bittersweet.  He was relieved that he wouldn’t be stuck in that hell hole for the rest of his life like his dad but he was terrified of leaving everything he’d ever known.  It was his dream to someday get out of that place, a place that he wouldn’t name which was most likely due to his agreement.  But the second he was forced to leave, he didn’t know what was next for him, a terrifying concept for any smalltown boy at the fresh age of 20.

Wayne had intervened, making plans for Eddie to move in with his grandfather, Roy out in the middle of the mountains a few states away rather than being shipped somewhere where he had no connections, a setup for failure.  Eddie told you about how he didn’t know his grandpa his entire life, didn’t even know he still had one until he went to live with him.  But without any hesitation, Roy took him under his wing, stating that it's what his daughter, Eddie’s mother would’ve wanted him to do.  The least he could do for a boy who only knew broken family and lost his beloved mother so young.  

You learn that his grandfather had distanced himself due to Eddie’s dad and truthfully didn’t know of Eddie’s existence until Wayne made that phone call.  The moment he found out he had a grandson, he welcomed him with open arms and put him to work at the bar, giving him a kind of security that Eddie had never been familiar with in his life.  Grandpa Roy died last year of kidney failure, leaving Eddie everything and you could tell it was really taking a toll on him, the responsibility of the bar, the fear of losing it and disappointing his grandfather.

It seems that within the span of ten minutes, you learn Eddie’s life story.  From the incident back in Indiana to how his dad created destruction in his life long before that and how he would teach Eddie how to commit petty theft and hotwire cars.  He was on the route to becoming just like his dad before Wayne got involved, fighting like hell for legal custody of him.  His dad refused time and time again although Eddie spent most nights and days at Wayne’s trailer anyway.  Wayne didn’t want him to have any authority over Eddie, the man was a criminal and an addict that would leave poor young Eddie alone for days to fend for himself until he decided to come back.  He didn’t want that life for Eddie.

Eventually, he won, the courts taking far too long to review the case but he was granted full custody and not long after, Eddie’s dad was arrested for grand theft auto.  He still rots in jail to this day for several other crimes he committed once he got out the first time.

It was all laid out for you, Eddie’s entire upbringing.  His whole life on display for you to judge if you felt so inclined to.  You didn’t.  You sat and you processed.  Deciphering that Eddie is the way he is because of the way he had been treated his entire life.  An outcast among the working class, growing up in poverty and being made fun of for things out of his control.  Kids steering clear from him for the simple fact that he was his father’s son and that his name had already been tarnished before he was even born.  It was becoming clear as to why Eddie was so emotionally withdrawn.  How could he not be?

“Eddie I–” “If you say you’re sorry I’ll puke again.”  He jokes.

It was something you found so endearing within him, his ability to remain playful even when addressing his trauma.  Perhaps it was a coping mechanism.  You could relate if it was.  

“Let’s just, uh, call it a night.  I think that’s enough about me.  I don’t wanna talk about me anymore.”  He shakes his head, exhausted but still displaying a playful smile.

“Okay.  Yeah.”  You agree, opening the door before he stops you with a raise of his hand.

“Would this…would this be a bad time to tell you that I’m ninety nine percent sure that I left my keys at the party?”  He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Wow.”  You sigh, resting your head on the steering wheel.  “Look at how the tables have turned.”  You grin, shoving his shoulder, eliciting a grunt from him.  

“Gonna make me sleep on the porch with the bears?”  He half jokes.  He wouldn’t blame you.

“Only if you don’t puke on me like I did to you.”

Eddie can’t fight his grin, dimples deepening.  He’s thankful that it’s too dark to make out the pink tinting his cheeks.

~end~

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[girlactionfigure]

The Funeral and My Flag

Last Saturday night, before the funeral of my neighbor's nephew, Seargent Hillel Eliyahu Ovadia HY"D, a request was sent out on behalf of the family to line our street holding flags as our neighbors walked from their home to the IDF bus that would take them to Mt. Herzl.

So I took a big Israeli flag and attached it to a broom handle and went outside and held it high along with around 100 other flag-bearing people as our neighbors walked to the bus. When Josh and I got a ride with our neighbor to Mt. Herzl, I took my flag with me.

But when we arrived at the funeral at 11:45 PM, I realized I was the only person who'd brought their flag to the cemetery. I also realized that there were no seats, and I have a problem with my foot that makes it painful for me to stand for a long time. I was feeling a combination of exhausted and weary. Exhausted from the late hour and weary from this tragedy that had, literally, struck so close to home.

So, for around 2 hours, I tried to shift my weight so my foot would ache less, and I rested my head again my flag, my eyes closed, crowded among around 800 attendees (I left early, at 1:45 AM. Hundreds of other attendees stood to honor this special young man until 3:30 in the morning).

And standing there, surrounded by and full of so much grief, a thought came to me out of the blue. I thought of the millions of Jews sent like sheep to the slaughter just 80 years ago. While all the countries of the world closed their gates to Jewish refugees and turned a blind eye as 6 million Jews including 1.5 million Jewish children were sent to the gas chambers.

How different the death of this young man, a dedicated yeshiva student, the oldest child of idealistic French olim, a highly-trained IDF combat soldier killed protecting the Jewish people from Hamas and Iran, Hitler's genocidal successors.

And for the first time since I'd heard the sad news on Friday morning, a ray entered my grieving heart: of gratitude.

Listening to the eulogy after eulogy, leaning on my flag, I understood why the family had asked us to line our street with flags.

Because I too felt my flag (and the country, nation, and army it represents) holding me up. Giving me strength.

Jewish MOM

[jewreallythinkthat]

Ok so ... Today's absolutely fucking batshit post that I had to read with my own two eyes

We all know Mohamed Hadid is a foaming at the mouth antisemite but this is a new level.

Let's start with the caption:

1. The implication all Jews are American? Insane, untrue, erasing all Jewish history in Israel which dates back to before the Arabization of the middle east.

2. No one has a single percent of Semite in them because Semite is not a race, it's an obsolete term for a family of languages (including both Hebrew and Arabic) however I need to specify that "Antisemitism" was coined as a term specifically about Jew hate. That's what it means, it's actually nothing to do with the language Hebrew at all, it was an attempt to sciencify "judenhass" and make it sound acceptable.

Now to the post itself:

3. If you demand an end to colonialism, boy have I got something to explain about why the official language of Morocco, a country the width of a continent away from the Arabian Peninsula is Moroccan Arabic... Or to be honest, the reason that Arabs are the main demographic anywhere outside the Arabian Peninsula where they originally came from. I understand that peoples migrate but that involves moving from one place to another, not expanding our and literally colonising everything around you. The Arab conquests of the MENA region are a well documented part of history...

4. Demanding a ceasefire is all well and good but we are all aware that we will never be going back to the status quo of before - which frankly is all a ceasefire with no actual work done to rebuild and move towards peace will do. A ceasefire neccestiates thought on what happens next. This is not to say people shouldn't be advocating for an cease to the fighting, they should, this all needs to end. What people have to also do is also be discussing what happens next. The old status quo was unsustainable, and with the mounting evidence that Gazans who worked in Israel helped with the planning of Black Saturday, we will never again see the relations between the people in southern Israel and those in Gaza go "back to normal".

I would love a ceasefire but we need to talk about what happens next in the same conversation. To ignore that is at best naïve and at worst, willfully ignorant because just stopping and Israel withdrawing will do nothing to help rebuild because we all know that everyone will lose interest if that happens, as has happened over and over again.

5. It's well known that Jews are indigenous to Israel and the ancient kingdom of Judea. It's literally in the etymology of the world. Now, obviously multiple groups can be indiginous to one area, but length of time residing there is not a marker of indiginunity, it's literally a childlike playground tactic. Straight up rewriting history... We all know how bad that is.

Mohamed Hadid has over a million followers. His daughters have a total of 130 million. They can post misinformation and almost ten times the number of Jews who exist in the world will see it. This is so dangerous and frankly this level of deranged lying on the internet does not nothing to help end the war, it just puts Jews outside of Israel more at risk. We are being murdered in the streets, in our places of work and everyone is cheering it on.

The irony of people applauding the murder of Jews calling us neo-nazis is not lost on me and it's unreal that we aren't even allowed to stand up to it. Let's be very blunt here, if you are justifying the slaughter of Jews, who's the real nazi?

An additional Edit:

There will never be a ceasefire without release of the hostages and bodies kidnapped into Gaza. Like it's so stupid to think otherwise. Especially with Hamas currently refusing to give a list of who is still alive (they said they couldn't give a list until they knew the terms of a ceasefire which clearly means they COULD do it, but they are choosing not to)

[enlitment]

A List of Relatable Things Stanisława Przybyszewska has done/written:

Studied philosophy at a university for one semester until "nervous exhaustion forced her to abandon her course"

Dated her letters by the French Revolutionary Calendar

Was known to often be humming La Marseillaise

Called Camille a twink in her play (okay, to be fair she used the word 'ephebe', but I'd argue that is as close to twink as you can get in the 1920s)

Worked at a leftist bookstore (and was subsequently arrested for it)

Took a stray cat from the street which at one point "was the only creature keeping her company"

Complained in at least two letters spanning over 3 paragraphs about a group of loud people playing football near her windows ("For the past forty-five minutes they have not been roaring, they have not been howling, they have been simply shrieking (...) like animals being slaughtered. Screams of that sort must be frightfully tiring for the vocal chords.")

When she wrote "I must write in order to be able to think. As a matter of fact, I am a remarkably unthinking person. Well, of course, that holds true too when I'm talking. But if I don't have either paper, or a human ear to listen to me, then I'm no more of a philosopher than a cat is."

1 + 8 - since I study philosophy at uni & am currently working on my thesis, these felt particularly relatable. I'm not more of a philosopher than a cat is definitely hits. Kind of want to put it in the preface.

2 + 3 are things I may have done myself before (okay, not letters but a diary, but it counts, right?)

7 - as someone who struggles with misophonia, I felt s e e n.

4- I'm sorry guys, I had to. But as someone who frequently asks herself "Are you really calling 30-somethings who have been dead for more than 200 hundred years twinks?", this felt like a vindication of sorts.

Also- I feel kind of conflicted about making this types of Tumblr posts about her since her work is really profound and serious and I have a sneaking suspicion she would have not appreciate them. At the same time, she has been living in my mind rent-free for the past week and this is a way to cope I guess?

SOURCES: 1. A LIFE OF SOLITUDE: STANISŁAWA PRZYBYSZEWSKA Author(s): JADWIGA KOSICKA and DANIEL C. GEROULD Source: The Polish Review , 1984, Vol. 29, No. 1/2 (1984), pp. 47-69 2. BBC Reith Lecture Three: Silence Grips the Town. Dame Hilary Mantel, 2017 3. Stanisława Przybyszewska: A Brilliant Playwright Preoccupied With Revolution. Alexis Angulo. Retrieved from: https://culture.pl/en/article/stanislawa-przybyszewska-a-brilliant-playwright-preoccupied-with-revolution 4. Przybyszewska, Stanisława. 1930. The Danton Case.

[the-hotel-cortez]

Destiny’s Anarchy [Pt. 2]

AN: More than a year later and back with parts of this series that I never posted. My writing has GREATLY improved since this period in time so I may finish this series up if anyone is miraculously still invested. 🫡

Back ⬅️ Pt. 1

Forward ➡️ Pt. 3 [TBW]

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻𝔂: When Michael visits Miss Robichaux’s Academy for his test of The Seven Wonders, your unspoken rivalry soon blossoms into something more. But when you receive a vision and see Michael’s destined fate, it’s up to you to do the devil’s work and change the inevitable. Saving the Antichrist? Not something everyone can put on their resume.

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: Major angst, blood required for a ritual spell (🥀,⚠️)

AN: Did I cry writing this? No, no, definitely not. I’m sorry in advance for how sad this chapter is, but it is necessary for me to set up my main plot for the story. So grab some kleenex if you need, and try to enjoy. <3

As you opened your eyes, a bright glare slowly faded into the glow of daylight. You stood dumbfounded on the sidewalk as your vision came into focus. You had never experienced anything this real before, only flashes of future and past. Whatever Michael had done, it had amplified your powers ten-fold.

Across the street lay a modest California home, an array of red rose bushes decorating the lawn. You began to question why you were here, all until the door of the house opened and a familiar figure stepped out.

Michael.

Something about him was different, more youthful. He was dressed in a bright yellow t-shirt, jean jacket, and khaki pants. Something you never thought you’d ever get to see him wear. Your amusement was cut short as he walked out of the house and towards the road. A large black SUV sped along the very same street, not showing any signs of stopping. You gasped, and only seconds later it was all over. Michael lay sprawled out in the asphalt, coated in his own blood.

You couldn’t move. You wanted more than anything to run to him, hold him in your arms and tell him everything would be ok, but something held you in place no matter how hard you tried. What was this? The past? He looked so young, so innocent. Unlike the present Michael you knew. If this was the past, why was he dying? How could he still be alive and with you this very moment at Robichaux’s? Before any of your questions could be answered, you were wrenched back into darkness.

As you awoke, you had expected to be back in your room, safe and sound at the academy. Though luck was not on your side. The dim light of torches lit the area around you, a fiery orange hue spreading through the entire room. You looked around groggily, instantly recognising the mystery location. It was Hawthorne.

Though something about it was different. It was quiet, unlike its usual loud bustling of teenage warlocks. Dust hung heavy in the air, and the entire space was enclosed in a strange darkness. It looked as if it had been untouched for years.

Your stomach dropped as you spotted a glistening trail of blood outside the cracked door of the room. Tiptoeing over to the opening, you followed the trail. A deafening scream broke the silence, and you quickly peered outside.

There stood Michael, once again, but much different this time. He had long, flowing hair, and a velvet jacket that matched the blood that stained the floor and walls. It would have been a beautiful sight; that is, if you didnt realise the blood was his own. Despite his injuries, he was still standing. Standing over the body of a girl.

It was Madison.

You stifled back tears as a mix of rage and disappointment overcame you. How could he do this? Just a few moments ago, he looked like an innocent child. Now… he was a monster. You watched reluctantly as he made his way to the second floor, slaughtering more members of your coven along the way. Your sisters, your family. You couldn’t compose yourself, half in denial of what you were seeing. This couldn’t be real… yet part of you knew it was.

Once again, as your tears flowed, darkness enveloped you.

Blood rushed to your head as you came to, dizziness clouding your mind accompanied by the lingering rage and confusion of what you had seen. The ground felt warm under you now and your body drenched in sweat.

“What did you see?” His voice was curious, yet a tone of worry clung to his words. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Stifling back you let your vision re-focus as the world reformed. “You.”

“I saw you.”

PART 3 HERE [TBW]

Tag list: Tag list: @evilcr0ne @kitwalker02 @sallyscigarettes @bellaisasleep @lil-dreg @mary-jinx

[cashcart1er]

Surprise Y/N (Part I)

Gf!Riri, Bestfriend!Shuri, Blood, Gore, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Main Character Deaths, Sexual Content, Ghostface Shuriri?

This was inspired by @killmongerskeepermain Ghostface story and Scream I. Enjoy!

'Two Apalachee High school students Jamie Lynch and Brady Harrison found dead in the Lynch household on 7th street. They were stabbed multiple times in multiple places. There is no known suspect yet, but there a Halloween mask found at the scene-

You switched the TV off sighing. They have been blowing every TV channel with this. Of course it sucked that they died, though You didn't really know them but that doesn't make it any better. "Damn, this is one crazy town I swear" Your friend Jerome spoke up while sparking up a blunt. "Hey, you okay? we haven't had a casualty like this since..."

Your girlfriend Riri was talking about your father. Your father died a year ago from being brutally murdered by a serial killer named Ray Holland. You weren't ever the same that day and it showed. Ever since that day you never let a door go unlocked or a window left open.

"I'm fine baby. Do you feel like getting me sprite?" She nodded giving you a kiss before getting up to go to the kitchen. "Nigga I know we ain't letting this sleepover go to waste over some classmates we ain't even know. Rest In Peace and shit but we gathered each other to have fun not slump in your seats" You gasped from your friend Mariah's lack of sympathy.

"Have a heart Mariah that ain't cool. She is right about us coming to have fun though. When is Kai and Shuri comi-" Jerome was cut off when the door swung in. "Your favorite people just arrived! Did y'all pick out the horror movie?" You did forget about the movie you guys were supposed to watch. Luckily Riri had one.

"What's up twin. Yeah I got a movie to watch and it's called Scream. It's basically about the same mask from the news" Jerome scoffed, "That movie was so unoriginal. The girl goes answering calls that don't need to be answered but somehow every time the killer comes she slips away while all of her other friends get slaughtered. They never follow the main rules of a horror movie. 1. Don't pick up the phone 2. Keep them doors locked and 3. Don't say you'll be right back. Because you probably won't" Everyone rolled they eyes and greeted each other happily before sitting down. "Alright lets get this shit started!" Shuri shouted causing everyone to chuckle.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright I'll see you guys tomorrow at school" Everyone said their goodbyes as they left your house. "Be safe baby. I'll see you tomorrow?" You nodded giving her a deep kiss pulling away only after I lost breath but she pulled me back in kissing on my neck. "You know I can stay here with you" You felt her smirk on your neck as she pecked at it. "Mm it's okay Ri. My cousin is coming here soon to watch me until my mom gets back Sunday" You pulled away patting her on her soft cheeks. "You positive?" She pouted making You laugh as you nodded. "Alright Ma. I love you" Riri replied walking to her car. "I love you too"

You closed the front door and locked it before cleaning up the living room. A couple minutes passed and in the middle of picking up some cups, your phone rung. "It's like 9:00 at night who the hell is calling at this time?" You pick up the phone answering it. "Hello?" You start. "Hey Y/N it's Darnea I just clocked out. Coming over right now. I did get us some snacks in case you had the munchies" You smiled lightly before speaking. "Alright, I'll see you when you get here" You hung up and threw the cups in the trash.

RING RING

The phone rung once again making you think she forgot to tell you something. "Darnea just get in your car-" "Hello Y/N" An unfamiliar raspy male voice spoke sending a chill over your body. "Uh Hi? May I ask who's calling?" the person only chuckled as a response. "Such a spooky night isn't it? It's almost like..it was straight out of a horror movie or something" You were sure it was Jerome just trying to mess with you after the mention of scary movies.

"Jerome if you don't get yo ass off of my phone. It is you ain't it?" You asked. "Do you like scary movies Y/N?" Who you think is Jerome spoke in a deep, sulky tone. "I like what you're doing with your voice J. It's kinda sexy. Don't tell Ri I said that before she jumps to conclusions" You snicker. "What type of scary movies do you like?" You rolled your eyes at all of his questions that he would know. "J you know I barely watch those. The one we watched today got on my nerves. Besides, they're all the same" You shrugged walking over to the couch.

"Are you alone in the house?" You sigh at the typical movie lines he's throwing at you. "J you're supposed to be an expert of movies why are you being so unoriginal?" You plop on the couch waiting for his response. "Maybe that's because I'm not Jerome" You sat back up just as fast as you sat down. "Uh well then who the hell are you?" You ask as you look throughout your windows. "The question 'Who am I' is never more important than the question 'Where am I'" A part of you still thought it was Jerome but you were still on edge. "Fine, where are you?"

"Your front porch"

This could easily be a joke but that didn't stop you from starting to get a little bit nervous. The only reason your black behind crept to the front door was because this wasn't the first time your friends pulled this bullshit. You opened the door slowly as you skimmed the front porch finding nobody. An idea popped up in your head causing you to smirk.

"Can you see me right now?"

"Uh huh" they replied.

"Yeah okay then what am I doing?" You stuck a finger up your nose waiting for a response but to no avail. "Helloo what am I doing?" You looked around giggling. "Stop playing J you ain't slick. Bye" Your finger was hovering over the end call button. "If you hang up you'll die just like your fucking father bitch!" You froze realizing this wasn't Jerome at all. It was a whole psychopath. "Fuck you nigga" You hung up anyways and scurried back inside locking the door behind yourself.

As you were taking a deep breath, you heard footsteps behind causing you to dart your head that way. To your surprise it was the killer from the news and the movie. Blood was rushing to every part of your body as the killer swung their knife. You barely dodge it but they grabbed your body slamming you onto the floor. The killer got on top of you as you both fought.

The killer locked their hands in your locs bringing your head up and back down ferociously bringing pain to your cranium also making your vision blurry. They dragged their knife across your body before getting ready to cut you open. You snapped back in time and kicked them in their stomach. You took the chance to open the front door but the lock wouldn't budge.

They got up and tried to stick the knife into you but you dodge running up the stairs but they were right behind you. You locked your bedroom behind you pulling out your phone to call 911. The unknown person banged the door slowly busting it down. "911 what's your emergency?" "Help me this guy is trying to kill me with a knife!" You yelled scared for your life. "We have a unit in your neighborhood they will be their in a couple seconds"

When you looked at the door, the person in the mask was gone. There was a thud at your window making you yelp. It was Riri and she looked confused as she climbed in. "What the hell is going on? I was coming back to return those notes I borrowed but I heard screaming" You hugged her tightly letting tears run down your cheeks to her shirt. Her phone dropped making you look at it. You were in shock when you saw that her phone said call ended the same time you ended the call with the dude in the mask.

It couldn't be...Could it?

You slowly removed yourself from her grip making her brows furrow. "What?" she ask but you were in too much fear to speak. "Wait don't go Y/N stop!" You ran out the room to the front door yelping because a police officer surprised you. "Rico help me!" You knew the officer because he was your cousins' brother. "It's okay we got this. Lets go!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ow fuck!" They arrested Riri as she winced from the force. "Do you wish to give up the right to remain silent?" Rico asked before leading her to the sheriff. "I didn't do anything. tell them Y/N! Sheriff call these guys off" The sheriff shook his head no signaling the other officers to put her in the car. "Wait! At least call my mom for me" They put her in the car as you just sat and watched. "Y/N please! Y/N" The officer drove off with her still calling your name.

Rico approached You after sending Riri to the station. "Hey, you alright? You might have to come to the station to answer some questions" You nodded as a response. Your cousin approached the house in her car. You chuckled a bit when she went under the tape with no hesitation. "Oh my gosh Y/N are you okay?" She asked. "Other than almost getting stabbed to death, I'm good" You joke trying to calm your nerves but that only did so much.

"D you can't be here. This is officially a crime scene" She scoffs at her brother. "Nigga please. She's staying with us for the night" Her brother rolls his eyes at her antics. "C'mon let's get you to the station"

[andorerso]

A YEAR IN FICS - 2023

I'm a little late this year but I wasn't gonna miss out on my favorite tradition. Here we go!

you fit me better than my favorite sweater: Jyn has a gift for Cassian for Christmas, but she's worried about his reaction. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Trees exchange

give me a lifetime and then fifty more: Cassian comes home after a prolonged trip and only wants to see his family. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Trees exchange

i think i'm falling back in love with you: Twelve years after the last time they saw each other, childhood best friends Jyn and Cassian cross paths once more... (1/1) Modern AU.

Blood Red Rose: 1920, London. An unknown creature dubbed 'the Beast' is terrorizing the streets at night. Vampire hunter Jyn Erso and recently turned vampire Cassian Andor might just be the city's only hope to catch the monster... (23/27) chapter 23 written in 2023

let the cat out of the bag: Jyn's cat really likes her new fuck buddy. Jyn's not quite okay with this. (2/2) Modern AU. chapter 2 written in 2023 for a prompt

don't say you love me: Jyn's been in love with Cassian for eight years, but she never thought he felt the same. Right? Things get a little interesting when he asks her to be his fake girlfriend for a weekend... (3/6) Modern AU. Written for the Rogue One Crew exchange

objection, your honor: Cassian Andor hasn’t lost a case in two years, but what he doesn’t know is that neither has she. And Jyn decides he needs to be knocked down a peg or two.It’s so much more satisfying to win as the underdog. OR, Jyn and Cassian are rival divorce lawyers who also sometimes hook up. This can only end well, right? (1/2) Modern AU.

but will you return? i came looking for you: She didn’t need a weapon, she would slaughter them all with her bare hands. She just needed a location. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

fear conditioning: There was something wrong with Cassian. Something that made him look at her like she was a monster. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

left behind: Rule number one: you didn’t fight a horde. You ran. (1/1) Zombie AU. Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

tragedy in your blood: If she pretends it’s not happening, if she pretends she’s somewhere else, safe and warm in Cassian’s arms, it’s not real, right? (1/1) Major Character Death warning. Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

Amas Veritas: Jyn's a young witch who's just trying to keep her head down. But when Orson Krennic returns to town years after he allegedly killed her father, she can't help feeling like this is her chance to get some payback. What's supposed to be a harmless hex quickly turns deadly, and Jyn must now make sure no one ever finds out what she did or risk going to prison. But the pull she feels towards Cassian Andor, the private investigator the Krennics have hired complicates matters, and it doesn't help that she's sworn off love years ago due to a nasty love curse that sits upon her family. On top of it all, Krennic's ghost might be haunting her... This Halloween is shaping up to be the worst one Jyn's ever had. (6/7) Practical Magic AU. chapter 6 written in 2023

so much for stardust: Nobody would be surprised that Galen Erso’s daughter and Director Krennic’s ward liked to do things the unconventional way. OR, Jyn grows up on Coruscant but that doesn't mean she won't fight the Empire (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Secret Santa exchange

Prompts, requests and drabbles:

College AU

I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere

Total works: 15 (12 new ones)

Total wordcount: 72 494

Yeah, not as good as in previous years, but I was expecting that. Still better than I thought it would be so I'm quite satisfied! These little fandom events helped tremendously <3

[laura-the-yellow-cat]

31 October Days of Spooky Halloween 5 October

Day 1: Scary

Day 2: Dark Missing

Day 3: Thorns

Day 4: FNAF Into the Pit

Day 5: Dark

Day 6: Horror

Day 7: TMNT (2003/2012/Rise/2018)

Day 8: Ghosts

Day 9: Dark Escape

Day 10: Haunted Mansion (2023 Movie)

Day 11: Upside Down (Stranger Things)

Day 12: 123 Slaughter Me Street

Day 13: Blood

Day 14: Velma (from Scooby Doo)

Day 15: Escaped from Infected

Day 16: Pumpkin Carving

Day 17: Horror Movies

Day 18: Vortex Point

Day 19: Full Demon Form

Day 20: Nightmares

Day 21: Haunted House

Day 22: La Llorona

Day 23: Scary Legends

Day 24: Horror TV Series

Day 25: Darkness Creepy

Day 26: Scary Music Box

Day 27: Investigates

Day 28: Supernatural

Day 29: The Demonic Ghost of Black Charro

Day 30: Horror Monster

Day 31: Happy Halloween

For @mysteryideasgroup and @sfcabanasstarcgs

[daitranscripts]

Perseverance Pt. 4

Crisis

Cullen Masterpost First: You Should Know Previous: Looking for the Commander

Cullen in hunched over his desk, staring intensely at his lyrium philter. He throws it across the room.

Cullen: (Yells.)

The PC enters, and the box smashes into the doorway beside them.

Cullen: Maker’s breath! I didn’t hear you enter, I—Forgive me.

Dialogue options:

General: Talk to me. [1]

General: At least you missed. [2]

General: I want an explanation. [3]

1 - General: Talk to me. PC: Cullen, if you need to talk… Cullen: You don’t have to— (Groans.) [4]

2 - General: At least you missed. PC: o long as you weren’t aiming at me. I’m sure the box had it coming. Cullen: I swear I didn’t know you were— (Groans.) [4]

3 - General: I want an explanation. PC: I thought you had everything under control. What’s going on? Cullen: It’s fine. I’ll— (Groans.) [4]

4 - Scene continues.

*Cullen staggers and leans on the corner of his desk.

Cullen encouraged to continue lyrium [5]

Cullen told not to continue lyrium [6]

5 - Cullen encouraged to continue lyrium Cullen: You were right. This was a mistake.

Dialogue options:

General: Are you okay? [9]

General: I’m not here to gloat. [7]

General: Will you listen now? [8]

7 - General: I’m not here to gloat. PC: I’m not here to say I told you so. Cullen: You may as well. [12] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 8 - General: Will you listen now? PC: Does that mean you’ll listen to me now? [12]

6 - Cullen told not to continue lyrium Cullen: I never meant for this to interfere.

Dialogue options:

General: Are you okay? [9]

General: I know that. [10]

General: So now what? [11]

9 - General: Are you okay? PC: Are you going to be all right? Cullen: Yes… I don’t know. [12] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 10 - General: I know that. PC: I believe you. Cullen: For whatever good it does. Promises mean nothing if I cannot keep them. [12] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 11 - General: So now what? PC: What do you intend to do? Cullen: Cassandra’s right: I should stay. I need to… I don’t know. [12]

12 - Scene continues.

Cullen walks over to the window behind his desk.

Cullen (PC asked about the Circle before): You asked what happened to Ferelden’s Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The templars—my friends—were slaughtered. Cullen (PC did not ask Cullen about the Circle): Did you know Ferelden’s Circle was taken over by abominations? I was there. The templars—my friends—were slaughtered.

Cullen: I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I—how can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my knight-commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?

Dialogue options:

General: I understand. [13]

General: You have bad timing. [14]

General: You’re taking too many risks. [15]

13 - General: I understand. PC: Of course I can. I— Cullen: Don’t! You should be questioning what I’ve done. [16]

14 - General: You have bad timing. PC: With everything that’s happened, you’ve picked a bad time to start over. Cullen: I should have seen that. [16]

15 - General: You’re taking too many risks. PC: Be that as it may, you put your health and your service to the Inquisition at risk. Cullen: I know. [16]

16 - Scene continues.

Cullen begins to pace.

Cullen: I thought this would be better—that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t leave me… How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause… I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it!

He punches the bookshelf.

Cullen: I should be taking it.

Dialogue options:

Flirt: I care about what you want. [17]

General: That would be best. [Cullen will start taking lyrium again.] [18]

General: Good. Just do your job. [Cullen will start taking lyrium again.] [19]

General: No lyrium. That’s an order. [Cullen will not take lyrium.] [20]

General: You don’t need lyrium. [Cullen will not take lyrium.] [21]

17 - Flirt: I care about what you want. PC: This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what you want? Cullen: (Exhales.) No. But… these memories have always haunted me—if they become worse, if I cannot endure this…

Dialogue options:

Don’t give up. [Cullen will not take lyrium.] [22]

Don’t risk it. Take lyrium. [Cullen will start taking lyrium again.] [23]

22 - Don’t give up. The PC puts their hand on his chest. PC: You can. Cullen: (Exhales.) All right. Scene ends. 23 - Don’t risk it. Take lyrium. The PC puts their hand on his chest. PC: I can’t watch you die. Please, Cullen. Take the lyrium. Cullen turns to the lyrium on his desk as the PC leaves. Cullen: There will be no further distractions. You have my word. He drinks the lyrium, and hangs his head. Scene ends.

18 - General: That would be best. PC; The Order doesn’t control you. Isn’t that enough? Cullen: I don’t— PC: Cullen, you’re in pain. This isn’t worth it. Cullen: Yes, Inquisitor. He returns to his desk. Cullen: There will be no further distractions. You have my word. He drinks the lyrium and the PC leaves. Scene ends.

19 - General: Good. Just do your job. PC: Good. Winning this war will taking everything we’ve got. Every soldier here has made sacrifices. Those soldiers need—no, they deserve you at your best. Is that clear? Cullen: Yes, Inquisitor. He returns to his desk. Cullen: There will be no further distractions. You have my word. He drinks the lyrium and the PC leaves. Scene ends.

20 - General: No lyrium. That’s an order. PC: So that’s it? Things get difficult, and you back down? Cullen: That’s not— PC: You’ve built an army. Are you capable of leading it? Cullen: Yes, Inquisitor. PC: Then carry on as you were. Without lyrium. Do you need that in writing? The PC clasps him on the shoulder. Cullen: That won’t be necessary. Scene ends.

21 - General: You don’t need lyrium. PC: You give enough, Cullen. I’m not asking you for more. The Inquisition can be your chance to start over—if you want it to be. Cullen: I don’t know if that’s possible. PC: It is. The PC clasps him on the shoulder. Cullen: (Exhales.) All right. Scene ends.

Next: I Wanted to Thank You (Quit Lyrium) Next: A New Sword (Continued Lyrium)

[readsalot1]

I would like there to be a fic where the "three solobrats" and early love interests (YJK, JJK era, so A/T, J/TK, J/Z) end up time-travelling to the prequel era (probably shortly after Geonosis), and the Organa-Solo kids are excited to meet their not-evil-yet granddad.

This goes off the rails when Tahiri freaks out as soon as Anakin 1.0 enters because that is the monster of folklore who slaughtered a whole tribe of Tuskens, down to the youngest baby.

Because you can't convince me that in this AU a) Anakin doesn't go down as some sort of ghost/horror story in Tusken culture, and b) curious baby force-sensitive Tahiri didn't wander off at some point and end up seeing the echo of the slaughter.

The prequel-era council obviously freaks out about 1. the time travel, 2. some of the time travelers are Anakin 1.0's descendants, 3. Anakin 1.0 apparently committed genocide (note: the fandom doesn't view this with the right amount of horror, even in light of his second genocide--the Jedi), and decides to temporarily suspend his duties until they can perform an investigation of sorts into his decision-making capabilities.

Anakin 1.0 is initially thrilled because OMG GRANDKIDS and one of them is named after him (wahoo!!), but quickly becomes pissy because the friend of his mini-me (EW, she was raised by Tusken Raiders [careful Ani1, your racism is showing] even though she's human) gets him in trouble with the council.

Anakin 2.0 now has even more issues/worries about his namesake, and turning out like him [note: this was a big plot point in his early appearances].

Jaina & Jacen are kinda worried about this because now their granddad was bad from an earlier point??? and they don't know what to do with that. (Jacen is jumping from joy because a bunch of animals that went extinct during the Empire's rule are still alive; Jaina finds out there were apparently seven lightsaber forms before Knightfall, and decides to crash all the basic training classes. This is hilarious because she's older than the enrolled students for the more basic forms like Shii-cho.)

Tenel Ka and Zekk are along for the ride:

("Wait, she's the heir to the Hapes Consortium?" "yes" "and they're letting her be a Jedi too?" "yep" "politically is that allowed?!?" "I mean her mom's from Dathomir?" **jedi padawan noises of imploded worldview**)

("so Zekk what about you" "oh, I'm a Coruscanti street rat :)" "ah ok, so the order found you easily!" "I guess your version would, but the Jedi got massacred, so I didn't start training until I was a teenager :)" **choking noises** "oh yeah, Emperor Palpatine was a total hardass, I'm so glad my friend's parents got rid of him, I'd probably be dead or totally evil if he was still in power" --at this point the padawan(s?) they're chatting to [maybe Barriss; she seems politically aware enough to worry about the heir of a major political power also being a Jedi--she's probably also read about Xanatos] decides to bring them to the council)

It goes something like "Didn't they mention, Darth Vader & the clones slaughtered pretty much the entire Order. Some of the younger padawans escaped (their masters died for them (and oh, doesn't that hit hard)) and ran until dark siders who served the Emperor hunted them down (this can be vaguely compliant with some Rebels content; assume the Rebellion-era is more fusion with new canon, except Thrawn doesn't engage as much with the Lothal cell, and thus is around for the Thrawn trilogy on to proceed (thus inquisitors exist and so too do the Hands--maybe Mara is Palpy's spy in the inquisorius's ranks; Starkiller can be Vader's; Death Star plan theft follows TFU more than R1) it hits hard that some of their own (their children, their future) work to destroy the vestiges of what they were).

Then they find out that Darth Vader, the Sith Apprentice--the emperor's attack dog, his right hand--is Anakin (1.0), the boy they took in, the one they protected, the one some viewed as their savior, the boy winning battle after battle, the one shining bright, the Hero With No Fear, the boy whose fear of losing everything, everyone he cares about is slowly tearing him to shreds, the foolish, foolish boy who will doom the galaxy to save one person and fail at that, the buy who burned and burned, scorching those around him until he was alone, and still burning, until he burned himself to save another foolish boy, the younger burning like a candle, steadily, warmly, rather than like the sun, and Anakin (they can't bring themselves to hate him, even knowing what he will do--they see the sweet child who loved his mother, who wanted to free all the slaves in the galaxy), seeing the warm, kind candlelight of the other boy, the brave, foolish child, his child, his son, and knowing he will burn him, sees the vacuum of space (the cold, cold man who made him burn everyone, who made him lose everyone, until only the vacuum was left behind, the only one he could not burn away), sure to take the air around the lone, kind candle, and the sun (Anakin) burns itself (himself) out, becomes a supernova to push the vacuum (empty, cold, always hungry) away from the candle (the son), and saves the brave, foolish boy who came to help him, but he feared burning most of all (the burning sun of Tatooine burns himself out, after burning with hatred for the better part of two decades, for another desert child, one who burns with warmth, like a hearthfire, and asks for the girl who burns (with the passion of justice, with compassion, the girl who is like him but not for instead of burning the world for those she loves, she who would burn herself out, the girl who would burn her enemies (those who seek the harm the world) for any who deserve kindness, who burns internally, but is willing to burn others as well) to forgive him, and she does, eventually, she names her steady hearthfire of a son after him, and hopes against hope that he (her son, one of her three suns) will have a happy ending, that he will not burn himself out like his grandfather, his namesake [Anakin, her son, he burns too: for his siblings (they will burn as well, his brother like his grandfather--maybe he should have been Anakin instead--and his sister, burning, the one to put out her twin's light, twin suns of Tatooine, one snuffed out the other), his friends (they break apart, the group splintering, fragmented after the war is won; even before), his love (she breaks, in a way not even being shaped by the black holes, put under pressure in the hope of her becoming one, can do; for a while she fades away to almost nothing, invisible, until the brother, seeing the broken, invisible girl takes her, and tries to make the broken puppet of a girl dance for him; it works for a time, building more cracks in her skin until she shatters, and the people who loved him, Anakin the second, the bright boy who burned himself away too soon, see the girl again, no longer invisible, and try to help her [pray they are not too late to put her (shattered, porcelain, crushed spirit, a shell of her former bright self) together again]), for the galaxy; but at this part of the story we don't know his fate, to burn and burn until there is nothing left, until the force takes him away, to burn so hot, so bright, so light, that his enemies (true voids in the force--black holes--not like the cold, hungry vacuum that desired, took the sun of his grandfather) burned away as well; he burns away, but as a hero. This does not stop his mother from her agony; it is all his father can do to hold himself together to stop her shattering like the girl everyone forgot, the invisible girl who loved his son, who would (and does) do anything for the memory of a boy who left the galaxy too soon].

This is the story they tell: of the angry sun who burns everyone (especially even those who offer him kindness), the boy-candle, the girl who burns with the heat of a thousand suns but never harms those undeserving of that fury, the scoundrel with the hard exterior who inside is kind, the brave wookie warrior who lives [and dies, though they will not know it for a time] to protect them, the saviors of the galaxy;

and others as well: the girl who was almost snuffed out by the vacuum, who burned as a quiet ember, whose flame was reawakened by the boy-candle; the boy who parallels her, who was trained by the angry sun to burn like him but refused, who burned out over and over again trying to prove himself, and, in the end, burned out to save the galaxy, who sent the message to the rebels that worked to end the war [the message, that, too late for some, still saved billions, perhaps trillions of lives, had it not been sent (how many worlds could have shared Alderaan's fate?)].

[carcusangel]

about me! ♡

💌 > haii ^_^ i’m ella, but u can call me ell if u want!

💌 > i’m into a few communities, such as lucifer valentine, $htumblr/€dtumblr , nsfw and a range of emo/metal bands

💌 > some of my favourite movies are - coraline \\ black metal veins \\ slaughtered vomit dolls \\ the angela chapters \\ girl, interrupted \\ terrifier 1 & 2 \\ the virgin suicides \\ orphan

💌 > my birthday is the 21st of november :p i’m from south wales, uk !!

💌 > my favourite shows are ~ skins (uk) \\ teotfw \\ american horror story \\ my little pony (2010) \\ bojack horseman

💌 > bands/artists i like are ~ pierce the veil, sleeping with sirens, falling in reverse, slipknot, koRn, my chemical romance, green day, blink-182, melanie martinez, arctic monkeys, marina, nirvana, lil peep, limp bizket, linkin park, evanescence, xxxtentacion, $uicideboy$, lana del rey, billie eilish, hollywood undead, waterparks, panic! at the disco, nicole dollenganger, fall out boy, paramore

💌 > other fun facts about me! ~ i have 4 piercings : eyebrow, septum, lobe & bellybutton \\ i have one SWS tattoo done with a stick & poke \\ i LOVE concerts!! i’ve been to see : ptv \\ sws \\ arctic monkeys \\ manic street preachers \\ the cult \\ (upcoming) > melanie martinez \\ falling in reverse \\ slipknot !! || i play xbox & switch, my fav games are life is strange, animal crossing & minecraft lol :p || my style ranges but is mostly ‘alternative’ or ‘egirl’

💌 > if you like anything i mentioned let’s be moots/friends ! <3

[dutchessofcaladan]

Ghostbusters: Soul Resurgence

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4! The long awaited return of Louis Tully! And unfortunately...Walter Peck. The return of Mayor Dickless can only make matters worse for the Ghostbusters. As always, hope you enjoy and a big thank you to @phantomoftheparadise0002 for beta-reading this!

Summary: When the spirit of Sumerian sorceress Ahassunu, daughter of Vigo, possesses Alexis, the Ghostbusters must band together to determine the fate of the world

TW: Some language

“Mr. Mayor!” The reporter’s voices seemed to blend together as they all tried to get his attention.

“Yes, you.” Walter Peck relented, pointing to a random man in the second row. 

“What can you say about the tragedy that befell New York yesterday evening?”

Peck sighed. “For the past 41 years, I've been trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to shut down an organization that has fed off the hysteria that they themselves have caused the great city of New York. For years, they've plagued this city with faux spirits and used them as justification for their destruction of this city. Now they have killed more than 100 of our citizens. Good, innocent men, women, and children slaughtered in the streets of the city they called home. To this, I say, no more!” He looked directly at the camera. “I, Mayor Walter Peck, vow that today…is the beginning of the end for the Ghostbusters.”

Not a sound came from the Firehouse as the Ghostbusters sat at the table in the break room.

Ray's breathing was still labored as tears continued to stream down his face. First Egon, now Venkman. 2 of his dearest friends had died doing something he'd dragged them into. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Winston placed a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “It wasn't your fault, Ray.” He said, trying to comfort his friend. 

Shrugging his hand off with a scoff, he gave Winston a look as if to say “don't”. 

“Yes. It is.” He grumbled, standing up. “I brought Venkman and Spengler into this. They're both dead because of me.”

The rest of the group watched as Winston stood up, following Ray. 

“Ray!” Winston shouted, continuing after his friend.

Stopping on the landing of the ground floor, Ray turned back to face Winston. 

“What do you want me to say, Z?” He asked, furious. “That I played no part in what happened to Spengler and Venkman? Because I did! I'm the one who got us all interested in the paranormal! I'm the reason they're dead! If we hadn't created the Ghostbusters, they would still be here and Alex-” 

He stopped as a fresh wave of guilt and tears washed over him.

Taking a deep breath, he began to speak again. “I'm the reason we lost Spengler and Venkman. And I could very well be the reason we lose Alex too.”

Just as Winston was about to speak, a knock echoed through the Firehouse. 

Opening the door, Ray was met with a man in a suit, holding a piece of paper. 

“Dr. Raymond Stantz?” He asked. 

Ray nodded. “Yes.”

The man handed him the paper and turned back to his car. 

“What was that?” Phoebe asked, coming down the stairs, followed by the rest of the team. 

As Ray read over the document, he felt a red-hot anger build up within him. Looking back up at the group, he scoffed. “Dickless is suing us.”

Ray rubbed his temples as the lawyer for the persecution continued to ramble on. As he finished, the judge turned to Ray. 

"Dr. Raymond Stantz, do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Ray sighed. "Don't talk to me. Talk to my attorney." 

Standing up, Louis stated proudly, "And that's me!" Taking a breath, he questioned, "Your honor, may I address the court?" The judge nodded. 

Clearing his throat, he began to speak, pacing about the room.

"Your honor, in this lawsuit, Mayor Peck has accused my clients of creating faux spirits for the past 41 years. How would they have done so? To even be able to purchase the firehouse they use as a headquarters, Dr. Stantz had to take out a 3rd mortgage on his family home, which was seized by the bank when he couldn't repay his loan. How could they possibly have come up with enough money to obtain the supplies they would use to create these "faux spirits" Mayor Peck references? Also, how could they have created the spirit reported in the New York Library before the Ghostbusters had even been formed?"

As Louis went on, Ray and Winston kept a trained eye on the jury, who seemed to be hanging on his every word.

Some time later, it was time for the jury to give their decision. 

"Will the foreman of the jury please rise." The judge ordered. 

A young woman stood up, looking slightly nervous. 

"And what is your verdict, Ms. Foreman?"

"Based on the evidence presented here today, we the jury have found the defendants not guilty." 

"Good job in there today, Louis." Ray congratulated.

"Thanks." Louis said, his signature goofy smile appearing. "I was sorry to hear about what happened to Venkman." His smile dropped as Ray nodded solemnly. "So," he started hesitantly, "what's gonna happen with Alex? I mean, you guys said she was possessed right?" 

Ray nodded again as Winston came to stand next to Ray, acknowledging Louis with a nod. 

"Well, you could try that mood slime stuff again. Worked like a charm on that Vigo guy." Louis suggested.

Just then, a light bulb went off in Ray's head. As he ran towards his bike, he yelled to Winston over his shoulder, "Call Lars and tell him I'll meet him at the Paranormal Research Center in 20 minutes!"

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Warnings about the Adulteress

1 My son, keep my words. Lay up my commandments within you.

2 Keep my commandments and live. Guard my teaching as the apple of your eye.

3 Bind them on your fingers. Write them on the tablet of your heart.

4 Tell wisdom, "You are my sister." Call understanding your relative,

5 that they may keep you from the strange woman, from the foreigner who flatters with her words.

6 For at the window of my house, I looked out through my lattice.

7 I saw among the simple ones. I discerned among the youths a young man void of understanding,

8 passing through the street near her corner, he went the way to her house,

9 in the twilight, in the evening of the day, in the middle of the night and in the darkness.

10 Look, there a woman met him with the attire of a prostitute, and with crafty intent.

11 She is loud and defiant. Her feet do not stay in her house.

12 Now she is in the streets, now in the squares, and lurking at every corner.

13 So she caught him, and kissed him. With an impudent face she said to him:

14 "Sacrifices of peace offerings are with me. This day I have paid my vows.

15 Therefore I came out to meet you, to diligently seek your face, and I have found you.

16 I have spread my couch with carpets of tapestry, with striped cloths of the yarn of Egypt.

17 I have perfumed my bed with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon.

18 Come, let's take our fill of loving until the morning. Let's solace ourselves with loving.

19 For my husband isn't at home. He has gone on a long journey.

20 He has taken a bag of money with him. He will come home at the full moon."

21 With persuasive words, she led him astray. With the flattering of her lips, she seduced him.

22 He followed her immediately, as an ox goes to the slaughter, as a fool to the correction of the stocks.

23 Until an arrow strikes through his liver, as a bird hurries to the snare, and doesn't know that it will cost his life.

24 Now therefore, son, listen to me. Pay attention to the words of my mouth.

25 Do not let your heart turn to her ways. Do not go astray in her paths,

26 for she has thrown down many wounded. Yes, all her slain are a mighty army.

27 Her house is the way to Sheol, going down to the chambers of death. — Proverbs 7 | New Heart English Bible (NHEB) The New Heart English Bible is in the public domain Cross References: Genesis 3:1; Genesis 39:7; Genesis 42:35; Leviticus 7:11; Deuteronomy 32:10; Judges 5:28; Job 24:15; Psalm 59:3; Proverbs 1:22; Proverbs 2:1; Proverbs 2:16; Proverbs 5:3; Proverbs 5:7-8; Proverbs 6:24; Proverbs 6:26; Proverbs 6:32; Proverbs 9:14; Proverbs 9:18; Proverbs 31:22; John 19:39; 1 Corinthians 6:9-10; 2 Corinthians 3:3; 1 Timothy 2:9; 1 Timothy 5:13