#I have a thing for men that exist in sets of 3 apparently

[jennyo-thewoods]

Antivan Crows have a lot going on, huh?

[youremyheaven]

Venusians: The Cult of Exclusivity

In my research, I have stumbled upon Venusians either being drawn into cults or being cult leaders. It did not surprise me particularly. All Venusian nakshatras (Bharani, Purvaphalguni, Purvashada) are ugra nakshatras known for being "violent". Venus is in itself, a harsh planet. In fact, all the benefic planets (Jupiter, Venus, Mercury & Moon- in that order) are harsh and for good reason; its natives have to be "purified" by the working of those planetary energies to earn its blessings. Venus values exclusivity and separatism. There is a reason why Venus attracts Venus. It is a kind of elitism. We talk about how rare beauty and glamour is these days and we fawn over the nonchalance and effortless cool of low key & mysterious celebrities. If someone or something is plastered everywhere, it loses its "special" feeling, Venus does not mingle with the masses, Venus sets the standard, its THE blue print but it does not involve itself with anything directly, they like to sit back and watch others ape them.

All 3 Venus nakshatras have yoni animals that point to a highly sexual nature and high libido. Bharani with its elephant yoni signals an immense sexual appetite (elephant being the largest land animal and yoni animal), Purvaphalguni and its rat yoni points to freaky deaky sexual behaviour and Purvashada and monkey yoni ,,, well,, monkeys are known for their lovemaking and how human like it is so..

Sex is a big focus of all 3 Venus nakshatras, with Bharani's themes of birth and death and its symbol literally being the yoni, Purvaphalguni representing the pleasures of the bed and being symbolised by the front legs of the cot and Purvashada with its connection to water, where life originated. Venus is more than just beauty and beauty itself is more profound than "looking good". Venus is beauty, romance, love, creativity, harmony, values etc.

I have talked about Venusian men and their tendency to be drawn to violence before. If we think of sex, it is a kind of violent act in itself, there has to be a back and forth of domination and submission. If we look at animals, male animals often kill other males to eliminate competition and establish themselves as the alpha that the females pick but even in coitus with female animals (literally watch any nature documentary) the male takes on a very aggressive, dominant approach and they often look like theyre trying to kill each other (people say things like "making love like animals" for a reason, sexual courtesy is a humane, civilised approach but animals are not wired that way). In Venusian men, this kind of aggressive erotic sexual persona is very apparent and Claire said these men embody "big dick energy".

Occult knowledge is gatekept and one literally cannot access it until one is initiated into it. Regardless of whether or not we recognise it as such, there are cults of knowledge all around us and we do not even know of their existence unless we've made it past their barrier and can access it. even explaining things defeats the purpose because only someone who's ready to understand it will be able to. Its nature's way of shielding itself from the unwise or the unworthy. you can be surrounded by this knowledge and still not be able to tap into it, if you do not have the discernment. this is a kind of Venusian exclusivity.

If you think about it beauty is pain. These days we see people literally endure pain to be beautiful via cosmetic procedures but this has always been the case, victorian women used arsenic to keep their skin pale and glowy and ammonia in their hair. footbinding was a common custom for Chinese women. but even beyond enduring pain to be beautiful, if you're beautiful you will have to endure pain, be it in the way others hurt you and ostracize you out of jealousy or in how people just assume crazy shit about you. Venusian women NEED to remain lowkey bc they're more susceptible to evil eye.

(im thinking of the song pretty hurts by purvaphalguni sun beyonce 👀)

anywaaayys (me going on a random tangent exhibit 62772). we know that Venusians value and need exclusivity, they're the most clique-y in some ways and this is what makes them drawn to cults lol. A cult is as exclusive as it gets. nothing screams "im not like the others" than being a part of a cult lol

Osho- Purvashada Stellium (moon, mercury and venus)

Osho was an Indian spiritual guru and mystic. His commune and the crazy shit that went on there was the subject of the docu-series Wild Wild Country.

Sadhguru- Purvaphalguni Sun

he is an indian guru. i think its interesting how cults have to have a physical existence by way of a commune that people gather in or live in, its not just conceptual if ykwim. i think this is another manifestation of Venusian exclusivity. entering into a cult means entering and inhabiting a different world. Osho had Rajneeshpuram, Sadhguru has his Isha Centre.

Sun Myung Moon- Bharani Moon

He was the leader of the Unification Church, a famous South Korean cult and he claimed to be the Messiah

Moon was intent on replacing worldwide forms of Christianity with his new unified vision of it, Moon being a self-declared messiah. Moon's followers regard him as a separate person from Jesus but with a mission to basically continue and complete Jesus's work in a new way, according to the Principle.

Nirmala Srivastava- Bharani Moon conjunct Mars

aka Mataji Nirmala Devi, she was the founder of the religion called Sahaja Yoga. She claimed that she was a divine incarnation, more precisely an incarnation of the Holy Spirit, or the Adi Shakti of the Hindu tradition, the great mother goddess who had come to save humanity. This is also how she is regarded by most of her devotees. she has said that she was born "self realised" and spent her life "helping" others do the same

The Venusian urge to start a new religion 😤😤😤lol

Religion is exclusive and if you do not have the discipline to endure its rules, you cannot gain access to its blessings. Religion esp eastern religion is extremely Venusian af, there are wonderful blessings for those who devote themselves to it and cruel sickening punishments for those who disobey. thats as Venusian as it gets

Anandamayi Ma- Bharani Sun, exalted Venus in Revati as her atmakaraka

She was an Indian saint, teacher, and mystic. She was revered as an incarnation of Hindu goddess Durga.

Her life was suffused in Bhakti Yoga and she was considered an epitome of "divine grace" that inspired the societal cultural milieu to lead the path of service, love and constant remembrance of the divine. Her followers experienced her spiritual attributes including precognition, faith healing and miracles. Paramahansa Yogananda translates the Sanskrit epithet Anandamayi as "Joy-permeated" in English. This name was given to her by her devotees in the 1920s to describe her perpetual state of divine joy.

she wasn't a cult leader or anything, just a guru even though she rejected even that label (spiritual gurus are a dime a dozen in india, no one who's actually worth their salt will label themselves as a guru)

i think Venus' connection to religion, cults and the occult is underexplored af. the highest form of love is devotion and religion/cults demand it of their followers making it a very Venusian experience. sex, love and religion are all closely connected, people experience trance like states when they're orgasmic or during periods of intense meditation (it can also be artificially induced via drugs etc but euphoria is naturally experienced through either prayer or sex) if you look at paintings of Hindu gods and goddesses, their eyes always seem so blissed out? same goes for truly spiritual people, you can immediately sense the tranquillity of their energy and the dreaminess of their gaze, like they're not of this world.

even the word "Ananda" which means joyous, etymologically means "without end" (Ah- meaning "without in Sanskrit and nand- meaning end) so the goal of any spiritual pursuit is self realization/actualisation and a person who achieves that seems joyous all the time. Many spiritual gurus have Ananda as part of their name as well.

Swami Vivekananda- Purvashada Rising

He was a monk, philosopher and religious teacher who is widely credited with introducing Hinduism to the West.

“All love is expansion, all selfishness is contraction. Love is therefore the only law of life. He who loves lives, he who is selfish is dying. Therefore love for love's sake, because it is the only law of life, just as you breathe to live."- Swami Vivekananda

Paramhansa Yogananda- Purvashada Sun

Paramahansa Yogananda was an Indian-American Hindu monk, yogi and guru who introduced millions to meditation and Kriya Yoga through his organization, Self-Realization Fellowship / Yogoda Satsanga Society of India.

Mother Theresa- Bharani Moon & Saturn, Mars in Purvaphalguni

Mother Theresa was an Albanian nun who came to India and helped the poor and the needy. She established charitable settlements that have come under fire for mismanagement and misappropriation of funds.

Now I'll talk about some people who've gained a cult-like following or were revered in their time and considered akin to God.

Eva Peron- Bharani Sun

Known by her nickname Evita, she was an Argentine politician, activist, actress, and philanthropist who served as First Lady of Argentina from June 1946 until her death in July 1952. She was revered by the lower economic classes and helped enact a number of reforms and policies to their benefit. She also helped bring about the passage of Argentina's women's suffrage law. even decades after her passing, the grip she has on people in Argentina is crazyyy.

fun fact: Madonna, Purvaphalguni Moon & Rising played Evita in the movie of the same name in 1996.

Tito- Bharani Sun

Josip Broz, commonly known as Tito, was a Yugoslav communist revolutionary and politician who served in various positions of national leadership from 1943 until his death in 1980

He was a popular public figure both in Yugoslavia and abroad. He remains a popular leader in the former countries of Yugoslavia. Tito was viewed as a unifying symbol, with his internal policies maintaining the peaceful coexistence of the nations of the Yugoslav federation. his legacy lives on and he was a VVV popular

Rasputin- Bharani Moon

He was a quack with no actual powers but man did he have a following

Rasputin was a Russian mystic and holy man. He is best known for having befriended the imperial family of Nicholas II, the last Emperor of Russia, through whom he gained considerable influence in the final years of the Russian Empire

Historians often suggest that Rasputin's scandalous and sinister reputation helped discredit the Tsarist government, thus precipitating the overthrow of the House of Romanov shortly after his assassination.

Taylor Swift- Purvashada Rising

Taylor's chokehold over her fandom is insane. I think it's due to her PA Rising bc wheww

There is a reason why Venusian influence is sooo common in the charts of it girls and icons. Venus is THE blue print, it makes others want to be like you and imitate you and also claim they hate you or dont know you all in the same breath.

Trisha Paytas-Bharani Sun & Jupiter, Ketu in Purvaphalguni

Trisha has a cult like following whether u want to admit it or not. Girlie has been doing this for a decade and a half and is still somehow relevant?? literally most of her contemporaries have been cancelled or left the platform and she's still standing?? despite a gazillion controversies that too lol

Now I'll mention some famous celebrities who are in/have been in cults

John Travolta- Purvaphalguni Moon

He was/is a Scientologist

Park Bogum- Bharani Moon & Venus

Bogum is part of Jesus Centred Church which is a cult and he was apparently even given his name by the founder/leader of the cult. There have been rumours that Bogum left the controversial church/cult and joined a normal church but there isnt enough info to confirm this

Nazanin Boniadi- Purvaphalguni Moon

She is a former Scientologist who was "trained" to be Tom Cruise's gf before he met Katie Holmes. read about the crazy and torturous stuff she was subjected to and you'll wonder why tf scientology hasn't been shut down by the government yet

Ruslana Korushnova- Purvaphalguni Moon

She was found dead at 20yrs old under mysterious circumstances. i do not think she committed suicide at all but she spent some time at the Rose of the World which is a culty organisation.

British TV producer and filmmaker Peter Pomerantsev has theorised that Korshunova's suicide was related to her involvement with Rose of the World, a controversial Moscow-based organisation which describes itself as "training for personality development". While researching for a documentary into Korshunova's death, Pomerantsev learned that the model spent three months attending training sessions at Rose of the World. These sessions—which encourage participants to share their worst experiences and recall repressed memories—are modelled after Lifespring, whose controversial methods were the subject of multiple lawsuits for mental damages in the US during the 1980s. Korshunova attended training sessions with a friend, Ukrainian model Anastasia Drozdova, who committed suicide under similar circumstances in 2009. Friends of the two women reported changes in behaviour after several months at the Rose. Korshunova became aggressive, while Drozdova experienced violent mood swings and grew reclusive; both lost weight. After three months of training, Korshunova returned to New York to look for work, where she wrote of feeling lost and doubting herself. Rick Alan Ross, head of the Cult Education Forum, argues that organisations such as Rose of the World "work like drugs: giving you peak experiences, their adherents always coming back for more. The serious problems start when people leave. The trainings have become their lives—they come back to emptiness. The sensitive ones break." Only months after leaving the Rose, Korshunova was found dead.

Michelle Pfeiffer- Bharani Sun, Purvaphalguni Moon, Rohini Rising

She was involved with Breatharianism, a cult that believes that you don’t need to eat food (Say what?!). She joined after moving to Los Angeles and looking for a group to feel comfortable with. They focused on diet and exercise but believed that people could live by sunlight alone at the highest level of the cult. She actually realized that she was in a cult after helping her first husband Peter Horton prepare for a movie role where he played a cult member. She said, “We were talking with an ex-Moonie, and he was describing the psychological manipulation and I just clicked.” (crazy to me that the not eating real food did not click??)

Rose McGowan- Purvaphalguni Sun & Mercury, Mars in Bharani

She spent her childhood in the Children of God cult and her family fled from its clutches after they started advocating for adult-child sexual intercourse🤮🤮🤮

Sharon Tate- Purvaphalguni Moon

Sharon wasn't a member of a cult but a victim of one :((((

Sofia Hayat- Purvaphalguni Moon

Sofia was a model, then she quit the industry to be a nun, now she calls herself a shaman and a healer and posts weirdly sexual vids on IG

Zaira Wasim- Purvaphalguni Moon

she quit acting to devote herself to religion and because she felt that being in Bollywood made her lose touch with her faith.

This is a very Venusian experience imo and one of the reasons why Venus thrives in keeping itself hidden or taking away other people's access to it is because otherwise Venusians feel contaminated almost?? other project onto them heavily and they feel clouded by it, unsure of their own identities. they feel like they're losing touch with themselves. many Venusian celebs are known for frequently changing their persona (Bella Hadid, Ariana Grande etc come to mind) the more time they spend exposing themselves to others, the more confused they become about who they are, they lack a stable self image.

Religion and faith can act as stabilisers and help these natives feel more grounded.

A reason why Venusians (idk if you noticed by most of the gurus were Purvashadas and most of the followers I mentioned were Purvaphalgunis, with an equal mix of Bharani natives in both) are drawn into cults is also because Venusians can only thrive in Venusian environments?? Otherwise they feel desolate and lost, a lot of people join cults because they don't feel understood or connected to people in their normal life. cults look for people who need help, and give it to them on predatory conditions.

Purvashadas are often spiritual leaders/gurus but seldom blindly devoted followers because being the final Venus nak, it transcends this toxic grip of Venus. Purvaphalguni is the height of Venus and these natives are constantly seeking spiritual truth and belonging but never quite ascending, as it is Venus at its most indulgent. Bharani is the first Venusian nak and I have found that the first nak of any planetary dominance is in some ways its "softest" manifestation, its the baby among the naks. The nak in the middle is the peak/height of that planetary energy and thus, the most cruel or harsh manifestation of that energy along with the concluding nak but the concluding nak also kind of transcends its influence??

high fashion/luxury etc is also very Venusian bc theyre the ones who covet having things others dont have. anywayyys this is just a stray thought lol

hope this was informative!!

[needle-thread-thimble-spear]

I find the cultural phenomena of the maid as opposed to its direct descendant (the generalized domestic laborer) to be really interesting, particularly in the transfeminine sphere. This post is gonna be kinda rambly and not have much a point and involve discussion of kink topics, abusive relationships, transmisogyny, colonial violence and its consequences, etc so heads up for that but anyway.

Starting with the regency/early victorian era Europe, there's this gradual development of a complex household structure among the upper classes, which caps out in the late victorian/edwardian era. This environment forges the "prototypical" idea we have of the maid, whom you'll see in period pieces and historical fiction. She might have worn a (modest!) black and white outfit, she might not have. If her employer is relatively poor she may supply her own clothes. Regardless though, she's a servant for someone wealthy enough to keep her on. Her employer might have inherited their wealth, or found success in a relatively new and burgeoning capitalism, but they were definitely a member of one of the upper classes. She might come from a working class family, or depending on her role, from the petty bourgeois/lesser nobility (it wasn't uncommon for a young lady to have a "companion", often poorer relative with no prospects of her own). It's interesting (though in hindsight not particularly surprising) how the space from where some women might become maids, wasn't very far away from the space where a family might keep on 1-3 people on staff (if you'd like to read more on this, Emily Post's original etiquette, written in 1922 is available for free on Project Gutenberg. Its a really interesting text, here's a summary of the maid section I wrote).

Anyway. Its around the height of this period that the "french maid" is codified. Apparently (my research on this isn't the most extensive I'll freely admit) it wasn't uncommon then for the english upper classes to hire maids from France. Wealthy men became quickly fascinated with them, and before long the french maid is a staple in the erotic material of the age. My understanding is that this is how the black-and-white stereotypical maid dress entered the public consciousness, since that was common at the time (indeed, other time periods and places had different standards for uniforms!) and is what the french maid in life would have worn.

After the world wars, the social landscape of wealthy people changed, the concept of the "middle class" crystalized, and a number of household appliances changed the nature of housework quite drastically. Most of the families that would have been considered middle class a few generations earlier stopped keeping on a "maid of all things". Very wealthy households would hire fewer members of staff, or simply stop hiring a permanent staff altogether. From then on, it would be the role of the housewife to do the domestic labor, or otherwise one keeps on a cleaner or a cleaning service who comes around every once a while. Eventually we enter the modern understanding of domestic labor, where live-in servants are rare and when they do exist they are often supplemented by cleaning services with no allegiance to any one household.

Meanwhile, the french maid continues along as a stock character, not just in explicitly erotic material but comedies and even historical/speculative fiction (and thus quite removed from her possibly more apt "prototypical" counterpart, see most anime/manga maids and "butlers"). At this point she may or may not bother with being french, and she may or may not bother with any domestic labor. The maid outfit (later costume) ends up as a stereotypical, almost trite set of clothing for sexual roleplay. It's in this environment that some early culture of "sissy" or "forcefem" kink latched onto the french maid. Since that avenue of kink focuses on feminization as humiliation, the positioning of the sub as a domestic servant for the (petty) nobility (which to be frank, is a pretty humiliating role all on its own, speaking from experience) dovetails into the whole shtick quite neatly.

Others more clever (and more concise...) than I am have written about how what makes forcefem hot is the transmisogyny. The transfemme is set up to hate herself, to self destruct, to feel shame and self-disgust, to feel terrified of herself, for what she is. I'm not gonna bother spelling out the connection here. A lot of transfemmes (even if they are terrified of it and try to avoid it like I did) find their way into that space pretransition. Or if they don't, they certainly become aware of it after they begin! And then we get all this response within our own culture. We reclaim "forcefem" as a term, maids become a common motif in the form of dolls in empty spaces type literature, but that undercurrent of internalized misogyny and shame still sits there I think. Don't mistake me, this isn't some sort of sex negative tirade against maidkink (that'd be a hypocrisy anyhow!) Rather I'd like to make the argument that we're frequently reclaiming something traumatic through it, even if we don't quite realize it. As transfemmes we often self efface when it comes to (trans)misogyny I think. It's easy for us to say we had an easy ride or that it wasn't so bad. But even so, ask yourself, would you be interested in maids so much if you weren't really badly hurt?

I want to end this going back to domestic labor. It has hardly been my career to this point. In fact, I've only spent a few months of my life as a housecleaner, several years ago before I transitioned. Those also happened to be some of the most grueling and torturous months of my life. A lot went wrong that summer. The work was physically demanding and the hours were long. It was one of my first experiences really working and I felt very loyal to my boss, whom I had a tangential personal relationship toward. I was alright at the work but I did it slowly, putting me behind my quotas. But the worst of it was the cementing of the unhealthy relationship I had with my ex into an abusive one. I won't bore you with the details, and beside they're torturous to relive. I'm afraid you'll have to take my word for it, I don't think I've felt so much shame and fear so intensely and for so long a duration since then. A screening of Silence of the Lambs was involved. What we've been through, what we've been subjected to, frequently leaves us pliable doormats, eager to please and easily abused. Many are eager to use us for that, and few things can feel so good as kind words from an abuser. If you're like me, maids are a lot about those feelings. The (trans)misogyny we undergo is a real phenomena. Maids for me is an acknowledgement of that.

Post Script: I think it's important to acknowledge how the history of domestic labor has been shaped by racial violence as well as (trans)misogynistic violence. In the United States, the prototypical maid could be white or black to suite the tastes of the employer. In northern culture, the maid was generally whiter than snow, because she was presumed to be better than her counterparts, thought to be less likely to steal and better mannered. That's what made the northern lady comfortable. In the south, the maid (who was often, maybe almost always black I'll have to do more research) was either enslaved or had ancestors who had been recently. Domestic staff being black was part of the mechanism of settler colonialism in the south. The southern lady was more comfortable seeing black women explicitly beneath her, so they were maids. I say was, but these attitudes persist, in one form or another, across the US today and influence who works where. In the modern domestic labor field, a lot of the workers are immigrants. When I did work cleaning houses, I met a lot of people from the Caribbean or Latin America. Remember when I said before that live in maids are rare, and often supported by outside cleaners? One of the women I met doing that job was a live in maid from the Caribbean (I wish I remember where but I'm afraid I don't. I was going through a lot at the time my memory of it all is difficult to access in good circumstances) who was responsible for cooking and laundry. We came in to do wetwork and dusting/vacuuming. That family had more money than grains of sand, and they weren't even so rich tbqh. At my agency, we'd usually get a temp staff from Eastern Europe to do the work but they were unavailable at the time due to the pandemic, so Americans were hired instead. It should be little surprise that a settler colonial state will oft assign the women of its (oft imported) underclasses to do any sort of difficult manual labor (particularly the kind that happens behind the scenes!). The institutions of sex, which disadvantage women (and trans women still further), are but one avenue of hierarchical social violence and these intersect with one another tightly.

Hope you enjoyed reading this ramble, and that you found it illuminating!

EDIT: removed a poorly constructed sentence that doesn't read well and utilizes figurative language in a place that should be more clear

[jazeswhbhaven]

From what I've been seeing it feels like PB is focusing on quantity over quality. Things like Obey Me, TWST, and Nu-Carnival has a sizeable group of characters, but they're not too huge so it allows them to flesh each one out to a certain extent, but then they can introduce a diverse set of cards on each of them so you're not starving too much.

WHB has not only has 6 Kings and one more on the way, but they also keep introducing more nobles and angels. In a way it's not bad, but this is why I seriously feel it is a case of quantity and not enough quality. From what I've seen in this community, characters that have been in the game since Day 1 are being super neglected. Then we a have every new L card released being paywalled, nightmare passes that also have the top rewards paywalled, are more frequent, even this time around the S+ card requires more gold keys and it doesn't have anything remotely special about it whereas the last S+ did which was extremely exclusive only. Honestly it's...really sad. Now you don't NEED these cards and I'm not asking for freebies, but in the end they are asking for your life savings for even just the decent stuff, and then you still have to deal with the gacha to do that.

I personally need a decent amount of characterization to really appreciate a character so I do appreciate the world building but no character has stuck with me yet. So everytime a new one is released I go: "Okay but what about like...the existing ones?" Our last one was Leraye, which I'm sorry, it's just a reskinned of his OG card and I found that really scummy which was probably why he was locked through achievements which...was the saving grace still it was the only time it happened. The story was nice though.

I don't want to come off as ungrateful and I probably am, but I just don't understand PB's decisions on what they're doing anymore. We can't use the "they're a small company" card, I'm sure they're not the only small company, but I don't have any sources, but so far this is the first time I seen company really just throw their community into a blender like this...then again I only played like 3 other gachas which isn't a lot.

💭

hey there 💭 anon!

This observation came right in time with how I'd like to pretty much introduce the game to new players that are flocking in.

PB's decisions as of late to change how we get currencies, paid banners, and the progression of the main story and character building has been a damn journey.

I don't think you're ungrateful, I wouldn't call anyone that honestly because as the consumer YOU are the the one, p2p or f2p, in the end that has be entertained by this nsfw game. The only one in existence that is catered to both women and men audiences. With that in mind, you'd expect to see something worth buying/taking up nearly 8gb of space on your phone for.

When the game was first teased, me and my friend were talking about it and she was overwhelmed by the amount of characters they kept showing, I met her through the Obey Me fandom, so that was our bread and butter for the majority of conversations. When I moved on to WHB, she didn't come with, she stayed for like maybe a week or two and dropped it. I forget mostly why which I could ask her again on her opinion.

But I'll let you in on something I saw the other day, the community over in LaDS has been having some issues with their banners/other gacha related things as well stating that this recent banner is driving players away. I don't play LaDS but PB isn't the only company it seems starting to switch things up when it comes to decisions.

The S+ cards confuse me because what they introduced was hey here's beach Rara (Raphael) and he has an adore mode, a story with mild spice, and you chats/more lore about this bitey boi. I had so much fun reading through that. Amy and Sitri's all we get are the likability things and well from the previous expectation? That made me shake my head. (also for the extra gold keys thing, apparently it's only that high if you want to get it early, the card is going into the banner immediately after the event so in theory we all literally could have waited to pull them so we wouldn't have to spend that amount of gold keys)

As far as content goes, I think ultimately there's too many characters to work with. If anyone on the staff has a brain like me, it would be very easy to neglect characters here and there. I also do not like that Gehenna has yet ANOTHER noble (sorry Amy) but other countries are lackin'.

Also unrelated...WHERE IS GEHENNA'S GROUP PHOTO U G H.

Niflheim needs one too.

All in all I hear you. Chapter 6 and Mammons/Amy's events though have me believing that the best has yet to come, these banners though....we will see... Maybe things will pop off when Asmodeus debuts..

[greeen-bean]

Trans!Nick Nelson headcanons

He came out/started transitioning quite young, like 7/8 (like jimmy)

His mum was always really supportive and would help him and fight for him

David not so much :/ he would tease him and make "jokes" about it like he does with the bisexuality

and his dad doesn't get it either but sort of goes along with it because he's never there anyway

Both of them definitely give him some toxic masculinity mind set

He has to be big and strong and not emotional etc etc etc

His mum fought for him to get into the boys school

I could imagine him spending a year or so at Higgs maybe before transferring but it doesn't work with my other thoughts on this so let's put a pin in that

He would love playing rugby and as he got older would work more on bulking himself up and getting more muscular to try and hide his more feminine features

At school nobody knows he's trans (other than the teachers and stuff), he looks masculine enough and had been socially living as a boy for so long nobody really notices

(Also are age 11 everyone kinda looks the same and after that kids just go with things)

He's on the rugby team but because of stupid rules of boys and girls playing against each other he isn't actually allowed to play any matches

ACTUALLY I've just looked it up and apparently "In exceptional circumstances, a player over 12 years of age may play on a mixed gender team where no other option in continuing to play Rugby exists." (<- from the World Rugby website, there's more info about it there)

More on that, from what I'm gathering, that is allowed up until age 15, so not really applicable to heartstopper era nick but my point stands

He's on the team, probably still captain/on his way to being captain, but doesn't play matches

Back to regularly scheduled programing

He also gets changed ina separate room

He brushes all of this off with a vague "medical reasons" explanations

Coach Singh is him BIGGEST supporter

She is ride or die for him

If ever anyone makes a comment about anything regarding Nick Nelson she is ON THEM

2 laps round the pitch

3 laps

Anything to get people to stfu because she gets him

He's kinda paranoid about people finding out he's trans and of being thought of as a girl (definitely David's fault)

I can imagine him getting really stressed when he hears about this gay kid being bullied aswell in a like "what would they do to/think of me if they all knew the truth" so he keeps his head down

Same when Elle comes out, he doesn't know her that well and knows he should say something to Harry and everyone but he can't get himself to (more on Elle later)

When he starts hanging round Charlie it's kinda the first time he's being confronted with queerness that isn't his own

He is stuck in this constant loop of "I can't like him because I'm straight and that means I like girls and not boys" and "if I like him does that mean I'm gay? And arnt gay boys usually more feminine? I can't be feminine" and "if I like a boy that's just the same as me being a girl" and "even if I did like him which i definitely do not if Charlie knew the truth he wouldn't like me back because he is gay and likes men and I wouldn't be that"

They do get together tho like they do in the comics and it's fine except Nick hasn't told Charlie that he's trans and can't get himself to, and he feels crazy guilty about it

When Charlie introduces Nick to Elle he is kinda scared of her

In the sense that, he felt so guilty about what happened to her and how he did nothing

But also he's scared she'll figure him out

When Charlie starts talking about Tao and Elle liking each other nick gets confused

Tao is straight and knows Elle is trans so... how is he okay with that?????

Nick starts asking Charlie all these questions about Elle and her transition and her relationship woth Tao

And its not a fight but they have a small disagreement about it

"I get that you're interested but these things you're asking are not your business and they are different not mine to share with you. If you want to know something about Elle then you need to ask her yourself, if she doesn't wanna tell you then drop it"

So nick goes to Elle himself... after building up the courage to do so

He's perfectly respectful and all but Elle understandably gets cagey to begin with

Last thing she needs rn is some rugby lad sticking his nose in somewhere

But she soon catches on that there is something else going, she just doesn't know what

Whist Nick is going through the stages of for the first time ever having someone understand how he feels

He comes out to her

"I'm... I was... um... I'm also... trangender 😶"

And at first Elle thinks he means mtf, and trys to be supportive of that

"No no no... like... I was born um a girl... so the other way"

"Oh. Oh!"

"You're actually the first person I've told about that haha"

And they talk about it, talk about nicks experience and how it's different to Elle and how its the same as elles and how shitty people can be and how wonderful people can be and about how

Also he apologies to her for not saying anything back when she was at truham

She doesn't think it's needed but appreciates it nonetheless

She asks about him not telling anyone else and specifically about Charlie not know

He tells her what he's so scared off and insecure about

"This isn't about Charlie, nick, he doesn't need to know until you're ready to talk about it. Or ever, maybe, if that's how you want you relationship to go."

"Yeah :/"

"And take it from someone who knows Charlie and has known Charlie, he'll be okay with it"

"Yeah :) anyway what about Tao?????c

"Stfu"

And Nick does tell Charlie. But I couldn't tell you how cuz after the conversation with Elle my mind stops thinking so :) i guess we (and Charlie) will never know

[theclaravoyant]

Juice ~ Rated E (Polyfire, 8x06 inspired)

"Anyway, I guess it got me thinking about juice. Other juice. Other things I- I want." A newly inspired Eddie interrupts date night. Buck and Tommy miss their movie.

AN ~ Is it a fix it fic if we cut the ep before there's something to fix? Eddie Diaz loving hours, ft his very loving not remotely broken up boys, because my heart is full of rainbows and I'm feeling a lot of things. enjoy! <3

Read on AO3 (~2400wd)

Juice

“Hey, guys. You like juice, right?”

“Hey, Eddie,” Tommy greets, and lets him in through Buck's door. “Um. What?”

Eddie bundles himself into the loft before either of them can get a word in edgewise. They watch – bemused, concerned - as he tries to convince his tongue to speak aloud what he's doing here and it's... well it's kind of exactly as difficult as he'd imagined it. Do something frivolous, Father Bryan had said, but this doesn't feel frivolous now that he's set the ball in motion. It feels like he's potentially about to blow up two of his greatest friendships, and it won't happen, not with these two, but what if it does -

Eddie clenches his fist. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding, but this is what he wants, and he's going to ask for it if it kills him.

“Juice,” Eddie repeats. “It's a long story, but earlier today I saw my priest-”

“You have a priest?” Buck wonders.

“Sort of. I ran into him at a juice bar.”

“Right, of course.” Tommy nods.

“- Only I wasn't buying juice, I was buying water,” Eddie explains, “even though I actually wanted the juice. And Father Bryan, he said I put the juice back because I don't think I deserve it."

“You don't deserve... juice?” Buck tilts his head.

“That's what I said,” Eddie agrees, “but he said it's not about the juice. It's about joy. It's about how I can't let myself do something just because I want to do it, and I don't even realise I'm denying myself half the time, I'm just so messed up I can't help it. Anyway, I guess it, uh – it got me thinking about juice. Other juice. Other things I- I want.”

Curls. Eddie swallows. Has Buck always looked like that? He's come around the kitchen bench now; he's not far behind Tommy, and both of them are watching Eddie intently, hanging on his every word as though he's the one glowing in the unflattering city lights. It should make him feel worse, Eddie thinks, like they're picking him apart. He should be begging right now for the Lord to strike him down and open up the earth to get him out of this nightmare, or at the very least, for one of them to clap him on the shoulder, get him some damn cloudy apple already and put on a movie.

They don't, and he isn't.

Instead, Tommy asks softly -

“What do you want, Eddie?”

And his voice is deep and gravelly and wonderful, and it sends a shiver down Eddie's spine and oh, he wants. He can't make his lips form the words but he wants, and wants, and wants, so much the air around him must be shaking with it.

Tommy takes a step forward. His gaze is gentle and steady; a silent promise that this won't haunt Eddie if he backs out now but he doesn't. He can't. Because maybe Father Bryan is right and maybe he's been wanting this a lot longer than tonight. Maybe he's been settling for slugging balls and beating chests and half-naked men grappling each other this whole time when he could have been having -

This.

Juice.

Tommy's strong jaw, slotted against his. Rough stubble, soft lips. Tommy doesn't grab at his collar or his hips or anything; he just crooks two fingers ever so lightly under his chin; just to tilt him, to hold him right, and for a moment it's all Eddie can feel. His legs turn to jelly. The whole room has stopped existing except for him and Tommy and those two fingers and his pounding heart.

And Buck, who's apparently forgotten how to breathe, and fuck does Eddie get it. Is this what it was like for him? Kissed into a whole new understanding of himself? Maybe not, he muses, because it's not that new at all. Not for him. It's more like he's been wandering the desert, knowing water is what he needs but never allowing himself to drink. He doesn't need to take a beat for his world to come right side up again – no, what he needs is to dive in.

So Eddie launches himself at Tommy before Tommy's lips even leave his. He can't imagine letting Tommy leave after this; can't imagine his lips ever being bare again. Tommy just adjusts and hums into his mouth as Eddie wrestles him backward and tugs his shirt from his pants and lets his hands explore. Underneath, Tommy is lean and sinewy and strong, and Eddie has seen it, felt it all before but not like this. Not in a way that makes him wonder what's below the line of his belt. How it feels, how it tastes... Hunger crashes over him, and he almost drops to his knees right there except that Buck swoops in to cradle him from behind.

“God, Eddie,” Buck murmurs softly, kissing and nuzzling into his neck like this might just be a dream come true.“I never knew.”

Buck's teeth scrape over the sparkling skin by the collar of his shirt, as if merely his breath wouldn't be enough to make them both wonder why they hadn't consumed each other mind body and soul years ago. Neither did I, Eddie wants to say, but he's come about as far as words will take him. He can only revel in the way Buck's fingers dig into his hips and how certain he is that if he says the word they'll drop like a hot iron. He can only writhe into the the touch, playing in the feeling; playing in the joy as Buck leans around him, flushed and beaming. It's only then that Tommy pulls himself away, just enough to inhale as Buck begs -

“Pinch me,” and Tommy laughs and Buck laughs and they kiss breathlessly, and Eddie melts. The anxiety zipping through his bloodstream evaporates, and he sinks into what they're offering him with open arms. It's joy, and love, and a safe place to want, and never in his wildest dreams could Eddie be so lucky - yet somehow, he trusts it. He trusts them. He maybe even trusts himself, and Christ, he hasn't done that in a long time.

Eddie tugs again at Tommy's belt buckle, with more intention behind it this time, and he can hardly believe the man's lips are that red from kissing him. Pupils blown that wide and dark for him. For them. But still. He's never been so single mindedly conscious of the bulge in another man's pants and how much he wants it in his mouth until right now. It's like the cover's blown off of the manhole, a geyser of desire is pouring out of him and– and he really needs to find a tamer metaphor, before all this is over too quickly.

“Easy, cowboy,” Tommy teases, and Eddie's face must be something because Tommy gives him that look he gives Buck when he gets all pouty, and it only makes Eddie want him more. “Upstairs?”

“Upstairs,” Buck agrees, and wraps his long arms all the way around Eddie's hips as Tommy bounds up the stairs two at a time ahead of them to prepare. Buck kisses Eddie's throat as a pathetic little whine escapes it, taking the momentary breather to reassure him - “I promise, concrete floors are a bitch on the knees. Come on upstairs, and we'll take you apart like you deserve, hm?”

Eddie shudders, all but collapsing in on himself with need even though that little voice is back, telling him that no, he doesn't deserve it. This reverence, this kindness. This pity. He shouldn't be doing any of this, he should be ashamed of himself for even thinking-

“Hey,” Buck interrupts, pulling Eddie around to face him and pressing their foreheads together. “Juice, remember? Let yourself have this, Eddie. We've got you.”

Eddie nods, and a smile touches his lips. It's been said before that he and Buck read each other's minds. They don't, obviously, but there is something to be said for the way they read each other anyway. Lock step, day in and day out; they know each other so well they can tell what the other is going to do before they do it. Even on the way up these death steps, intertwined like they've never been before, they're in sync, and when Buck finally puts his lips on Eddie's, it feels right in a way Eddie forgot that he could feel. Like he's no longer Eddie: a physical entity but Eddie: a boundless sensation, an experience, a soul, riding the wave they're sending him on.

We've got you, we've got you, echoes in his head. And up here Tommy's got condoms and lube and water and it's so – God, Eddie could just about cry. Yeah, that's probably going to happen. They're going to look after him, and he's going to let them, and the fact that this wouldn't even have occurred to him this morning is surreal. Tommy's waiting, his hair all mussed and his pants already on their way off as he leads Eddie to the bed like a dance partner. In a way that's what they are; Eddie following Tommy's lead, Tommy shaping his next steps on Eddie's, mapping out the choreography together. Eddie touches Tommy's stomach, kisses his thighs, and each move elicits a moan, a gasp; encouragement as he experiments with the ways he can bring pleasure to- to another man, to his best friend, except maybe Buck who is currently sucking a bruise onto the back of his neck with his hard cock grinding against Eddie's ass, and whispering in his ear -

“Look at him, look at what you do to him – listen, can you hear how much he wants you-”

There's no juice in the world that compares to this. He might never drink the stuff again, Eddie decides as he kisses his way all over Tommy til there's not much left but his bulging tighty whiteys. He hooks a finger over the elastic and pulls it aside and Tommy – 'Little Tommy', maybe, but it's far from little – springs up to meet him in a way he is sure was basically invented for pornography. Christ, the ruined orgasms he's tortured himself with over pornography. Father Bryan is so ridiculously right.

“Eddie. You good?” Tommy checks.

“I just don't really know what to do,” Eddie confesses, and for the first time in a long time, that doesn't feel like a bad thing. All it means is show me, and they do; Tommy's hand in his hair, Buck's voice in his ear, guiding him with as much passion and kindness as if they're fucking each other. No. More, because they're not fucking each other they're fucking him, and Eddie has never felt so absolutely fucking glorious in all his life. It's as if Eddie - oh, God, Eddie, just like that – deserves to be, no simply has to be part of the way Tommy's lips part and he pants with need, throwing his head back and writhing, knotting one hand in the blankets to stop himself shoving Eddie's face down to take his dick deeper. Eddie – Evan, Eddie, so good, please - has to be part of Buck thrusting forward, breathing so heavily Eddie can taste him. Eddie is here, and he deserves to be, and they want him so much it hurts. He's strangled and leaking in his pants, and his body sings with it.

“Buck?”

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. Please. “I need you to fuck me.”

“Not tonight, Eddie, that takes time.”

“Please.”

Eddie needs Tommy's cock like he needs air at this point, so he can't bear the conversation to go on, but Buck doesn't need to be asked a third time. He kisses his way between Eddie's shoulder blades and down his spine through the sweat-drenched pink Eddie's Letting Loose shirt. He's up to something and it's about to be so incredibly good, but he doesn't give Eddie long to bask in the anticipation before he reaches around and tugs open Eddie's belt, and with the combined prowess of a professional firefighter and expert lover, works off Eddie's pants and underwear. Eddie's grinding thrusts start to shudder without Buck to keep him in rhythm, but it might be because Tommy's starting to shudder underneath him too. Buck's fingers dance across his bare ass, teasing and circling him, massaging with a gentleness that belays the filthy words he's whispering and it only encourages Eddie to take Tommy even deeper and faster and harder til he almost gags with it.

“Eddie, I- I'm close,” Tommy promises. “If you don't want me to come down your throat-”

“How's this?” Buck asks, and he slips a finger into Eddie's ass and curls it just so and Eddie gasps and Buck can't help it, he bites down on the bruise he's been kissing. Tommy curses and there's an explosion of sensation as one, then another and another orgasm washes over them.

Eddie's not ready, because how could he have ever been for this? He chokes and splutters and all of a sudden it's everywhere; under him, inside him, and it doesn't matter because he's seeing stars like he hasn't in years. His eyes smart with the shock of it and every muscle burns with the workout of a lifetime. He collapses, shaking and boneless, onto Tommy's chest. Down for the count.

“Mm, I think we're gonna miss the movie, babe,” Tommy muses, panting, as Buck crawls up the bed just far enough to drop himself down next to them both and steal one more sloppy kiss.

“I don't know,” he teases. “I think we had a pretty special screening of our own right here.”

Buck's eyes drink in Eddie with equal parts devotion and amusement - he must be positively fucking debauched, and sweet Mary, Mother of God he could not be happier.

“Sorry about the mess,” Eddie breathes, and for once he can barely find it in himself to mean it. It's hard, it's so hard to feel sorry when the world feels like this. Sheer, unadulterated satisfaction. Clouds, and trust, and soft landings the likes of which he's never known. Tommy gently scolds him nonetheless, and kisses his temple like he doesn't even mind that it's all sweaty and speckled with cum.

Buck grins, and cracks a bottle of water open for him.

“Don't even worry about it,” he says. “This bed's seen worse. And for what it's worth, Eddie – I think joy looks good on you.”

[2boldlyqueer]

Hi, you reblogged a scam from fullbarbarianblaze, who is promoting a donation scam. They have had this scam running for a very long time, and this link leads to a post with the trail of all the usernames they've used to run this scam, starting with their header name, vero-og. https://www.tumblr.com/kyra45/740721061635768321?source=share

It has been going on for months, meaning that their story of constantly needing "just $370" for insulin is dishonest. Their PayPal name is "Sophia Magubo" which is not a Native American name, but an East African one. (This PayPal account has also been consistent through all of these blogs they've held.) Since they apparently live in the U.S., they should know by now that the price of insulin was capped at $35/pen, meaning that even if they were unable to buy a single unit, a full box of pens (3) would cost $105 plus tax.

Their insulin reading photo shows a 592, which could not last for months on end. Typically a reading of 592 is severe and would warrant a hospital visit if they were out of insulin. It could lead to a coma or death, not waiting idly by for days, hoping for tumblr users to donate to your PayPal.

Please, before interacting with a donation request, check their blog. Do searches of the text username through the tumblr search engine or reverse image search their photos, as some users have compiled scam lists. (e.g. kyra45, anonthescambuster, azalea-alter) Many donation requests are honest, but there are plenty of repeat scammers who are taking advantage of people's sympathy and generosity.

If you are interested in supporting a family whose fundraiser has been through a vetting process and is in danger of being killed in Gaza, please replace your post from fullbarbarianblaze with a post supporting @/nesmamomen. If you have any questions about how to determine the legitimacy of a donation ask, feel free to contact me through DMs or askbox.

While it does appear that this person is scamming people, I have some issues with this ask, to be honest. You have good intentions, which is why I'm responding to let you know about these concerns, instead of just ignoring it like I initially planned to.

Context: I am a white US American with type 1 diabetes, and my response is based only on how things are in the US. A lot of my diabetes facts aren't sourced because they're things I learned from my doctors, or in my time doing advocacy and educational outreach with the American Diabetes Association in high school and 2017-2019.

Firstly, just because someone's PayPal name does not match the ethnicity or nationality you think they are, does not mean they are lying. This is an incredibly slippery slope to start on. Interracial and intercultural marriages exist, and are quite common in the US.

This is especially true of Native American people, who face a ton of issues around the concept of "blood quantum" and not being counted as Native because of it. I am not Native American myself, so I highly recommend you look into what actual Native Americans have to say on the topic. Here's one place you can start:

ID: embedded link for "Blood Quantum and its role in Native Identity - The Indigenous Foundation" with an old black and white photograph of four Native American men in European style formal suits. /End ID

Highlight from the article for our purposes:

Blood Quantum, as a way to ascribe Native American membership, has dire consequences. Blood Quantum policies are little other than genocidal and will eventually lead to the extinction of indigenous people. For example, if the blood quantum limit is set at ¼ in tribal enrollment, and intermarriage proceeds, natives will eventually be defined out of existence. It is almost as if this erasure was premeditated by the government.

While you and I aren't actively trying to legislate them out of existence, by judging a Native American for having a "not Native" name, you are perpetuating the idea of what a Native American is or is not, and that by marrying and having a child with someone of a different culture, that child is automatically not Native enough.

Secondly, the information and assumptions you include about diabetes are not accurate. You say the reading they show is too high to last for months on end. It is possible to be that high for many weeks and sometimes even months. Typically it's before diagnosis, and it will lead to miserable symptoms and long-term complications, but it's not unheard of.

They also never claim to be in the 500s for months. As far as I can tell, that idea is coming from the same image with the same number being used for multiple campaigns. While I can understand you being reasonably skeptical of this, I could also fully see a miserable diabetic who isn't great with tech thinking they could just use the same picture.

One of the things that happens when your blood sugar is too high is that your brain literally doesn't work right. You aren't getting enough glucose into the cells that need them because it's all stuck in your blood, which causes irritability, trouble focusing, fatigue, confusion, and other mood changes. Keep this in mind whenever you say that this person "should" know something about diabetes, or that they would certainly be going to the hospital with a blood sugar that high.

Personally, the one time I had to go to the hospital for a high blood sugar, four people had to talk me into it, and I was told later by my family that I begged the doctors in the Cardiac Care Unit to let me go home because I could treat it myself (I was in the CCU because my blood sugar was high enough that my heart was in danger of failing, and I was told afterwards what happened because my brain wasn't functioning enough to form memories). I also tried to decline an ambulance when my blood sugar was severely low, as I knew in my addled state that my insurance wouldn't cover the bill and that I didn't have $2000 to spare.

Regarding the price of insulin, I live in a state with very robust Medicaid that I'm on, and I have issues at least twice a year with my insulin supply. Recently, I had to get a friend to give me a vial of hers to get me to my refill day, as I ran out two days before my insurance would let me get it, and it would have been almost $100 to fill it early.

Let's take a look at GoodRx to see the best prices possible in a less kind state to live in, like Texas. The amount of insulin required per month varies wildly depending on person, but Native Americans tend to have insulin resistance, so I'll go with 4 vials, as I'm highly insulin resistant and use 6-7 vials a month.

ID: screenshot from GoodRx of prices for 4 (10ml) vials of insulin lispro 100 units/ml in Austin, TX (73301). Prices are: Walgreens $51; Walmart $114.21; CVS Pharmacy $93.50; HEB Grocery $101.68; Community, a Walgreens Pharmacy $51; Costco $114.40 with Special offers available; Target (CVS) $93.50; Randall's $104.52 with Special offers; Walmart Neighborhood Market $114.21 /End ID

Indeed, it's not $370 like the person was requesting, but it's potentially more than you suggested. And it often doesn't make sense to buy one vial when you need more in a month, as it is more expensive.

ID: screenshot from GoodRx of price of 1 (10ml) vial of insulin lispro 100 units/ml in Austin, TX (73301) from Walgreens, priced at $19.50. /End ID

They also do not specify which insulin they need. If this person is not on an insulin pump (highly likely with the level of care Native Americans tend to get, which I will get into shortly) they most certainly need more than one kind of insulin. The most common combo of insulins these days is insulin aspart or lispro (fast-acting insulins) and insulin glargine (AKA Lantus, a long-acting "basal" insulin). It's possible to be allergic to any of these (I am allergic to glargine) and you can get a different kind, but it takes a major fight with your insurance if you have one, or a higher price if you don't.)

Right now, Lantus is so kind as to have a major coupon available that brings the price of their insulin down to the Medicare cap of $35 for everyone (because the cap you mention is only for Medicare recipients, though it has had rippling effects across all levels and kinds of insurance.)

ID: screenshot from GoodRx of prices for Lantus (1 carton (5 solostar pens) 3ml) in Austin, TX (73301). Prices are: Walgreens $35; Walmart $35; HEB Grocery $35; and CVS Pharmacy $35, all marked as Exclusive discount. On the Walgreens line is the text "$518 retail Save 93%" with the price crossed out. /EndID

Notice that teeny grey writing there with the retail price? $518 for a month of Lantus! A shitty pharmacy could absolutely get away with charging up to that price, without letting their customers know about the discounts available.

I mentioned that I'm allergic to Lantus. Last year, I ended up buying a month worth of the version I can tolerate (Tresiba/insulin degludec if you're curious) out of pocket to have as a backup. I paid about $80 for it, which tracks in Texas as well, though it could be double or worse depending on the pharmacy you can use:

ID: screenshot from GoodRx of prices for insulin degludec (1 carton (five 3ml flextouch pen…) in Austin, TX (73301). Prices are: Walgreens $84.92; CVS Pharmacy $160.34; Randall's $183.09 with Special offers; HEB Grocery $184.34; Walmart $189.82; and Costco $200.46 with Special Offers /EndID

Given all that, this person could easily have to pay $370/month if they have bad/no insurance, a shitty pharmacy, and don't have a doctor that will help them get the least expensive options. Not everyone knows about GoodRx and other ways to save on medications.

In fact, my biggest issue throughout your ask is that you have multiple statements on what this person "should" know about our healthcare system or diabetes in general. This is, to be frank, a very privileged view of health education in our country, especially for Native Americans with any concerns.

ID: A Native woman in casual modern clothing looks into the camera neutrally, posing in an office /End ID

Highlight from that article for our purposes:

Indian Health Service, the federal agency responsible for providing health care to federally recognized tribes, is chronically underfunded and doesn’t administer specialty care. So, depending on where one lives on the reservation, a person may have to travel hours for things like cancer treatment, behavioral health services or even to deliver a baby. 

You know what requires specialty care? Diabetes! Now, technically speaking, you can get diabetes care through a primary care doctor. That said, every single primary care doctor I've ever had has deferred to me as the expert in my diabetes, as I have significantly more training on it from my specialist care than my primary care doctor does from their schooling.

What does proper diabetes education look like? When I was diagnosed, I spent a week in the hospital learning how to manage. Then, I started seeing a diabetes endocrinologist (endo), a certified diabetes educator (CDE), and a diabetes ophthalmologist, with the endo and CDE being available via phone and email 24/7 (with a response time typically under 24 hr). (Also available at my kick-ass diabetes center are diabetes specific social workers and art therapy, which I only don't use because I have a therapist I love.)

From my diagnosis in 2007 up until the pandemic, I saw at least one of these specialists every 3 months. On top of that, I had access to classes outside of these appointments where I could go learn about a specific diabetes concern with a bunch of other diabetics (for example, I took a 3 hour class entirely dedicated to how to drink safely with diabetes!) Frankly, a lot of these appointments are dedicated to repetition of important things, because you have to learn so much to manage your health that it's impossible to remember everything, especially if you've only heard it once when you were still processing the diagnosis in the first place.

Imagine having to do all of this, but needing to drive over 50 miles each way, when you're already poor and struggling to survive (an assumption we can make about a Native American begging for help paying for medication online, especially considering the higher rates of poverty they face.

All minorities across the US tend to be left behind in diabetes education and support, and while there are many groups working to help, they aren't able to get to everyone. (Intense irony, I tried to access the CDC's Native Diabetes Wellness Program during this search, and initially got sent around multiple dead links! Even when you try to access the info it's not always there! Plus, it's type 2 specific, which is a whole other rabbit hole I'm not going down right now other than to say it can be hard to find type 1 specific info and they are very different diseases.)

All of this to say, while there are legitimate reasons to believe that user is a scammer, many of the reasons you included in your ask are not, and are instead based on anti-Native American ideas and medical misinformation. This quite honestly makes me less inclined to believe you, and it weakens your argument. All that was necessary was saying that the same exact paypal, story, and image have been used across multiple accounts (ideally with a link to proof, like another user who sent an ask about the same person did.)

[andreafmn]

Bound | Chapter 3

Word Count: 4.2K Warnings: implied/reference SA, torture, murder, bodily harm

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could've hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever, or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: well, we continue with Rosalie's revenge. Still one more chapter to go for the murder I am sure we are all waiting for. The next chapter will also be from Rosalie's "POV" since I want to show the parallel time frames for both the reader and Rose, and there's a time frame when nothing important is happening for Reader, but it does for Rose. I literally made an entire timeline to make sure things add up. Anywho, hope y'all enjoy! Also, I want to say to any and all survivors of SA that you are not alone and what happened to you is not your fault, it never will be. I hope you have healed or are healing. And if you ever just need an ear to listen, I am here. 🤍

<- Previous | Next ->

It was astounding how different two lives that were connected could look so different in the same time span. Whilst (Y/N) basked in the presence of her best friend, in their love and closeness, Rosalie was going back to the Cullen residence after taking the lives of two men, with no knowledge that the witch that would change her life was less than four hours away. Had life turned out any differently, that was the closest their souls would have been to meeting. So close, yet so far. 

Alas, neither knew of the existence of the other. Not yet, at least. 

The blonde was angsty with revenge. Her veins itched with the need to rid the earth of those demons, to make sure no other woman ever fell victim to their claws. Her entrails churned and tightened. She needed them gone in order to finally sit with her thoughts, to allow the weight of everything that had happened to her to sink down her body. 

“So you really killed them?” Edward’s voice broke through the silence of the room Carlisle had designated as hers days after the murders. “News is spreading about a psychotic killer that took the lives of the Hubert brothers. Essentially tortured them both without spilling a drop of blood. And apparently, some men have been receiving threatening letters from this killer.” 

“What do you want, Edward?” 

“Don’t you think it’ll serve you better just to move on? Killing those men will accomplish nothing in the long run,” he said. “Even if you think you’re ridding the world of these monsters, they will be replaced by three more. That’s the world we live in.” 

“Just because you can hear my thoughts doesn’t mean that you know me,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “If you’re here to stop me from going through with my plan, then I will save you time. Carlisle could not get me to desist, and you certainly would not be able to.” 

“I’m just saying, Rosalie. It won’t help you in the long run to take their lives. You’ll live with them in the back of your mind for eternity. It’s not an existence you’d want.” 

“This is already an existence I don’t want, Edward. And their faces are already embedded in my head because of what they did to me. They took everything I hold dear. They took everything from me! The least I can do is take their lives. And I certainly don’t need a morality course from you.” 

Edward’s words died in his throat at that moment, and Rosalie was thankful for that. The last thing she wanted was to listen to a man who thought he was better than everyone around him because he could hear their thoughts. It didn’t take long for her to figure him out. He believed he was above scrutiny. He was arrogant and entitled. And he made it all that easy to get over the fact that he did not find her attractive –not that she’d let him know. It was the thought that would protect everything she really felt.

“Well, then. If that is all, I will ask you to leave,” she smiled. “I have better things to do.” 

Rosalie had nothing to do, in reality. As she let fear fester in the other three men, she did not know what to do with her days. She couldn’t leave the house because she was meant to be missing. She felt no desire to do any of the things she loved. Not even work on the 1928 Series 341-A blue Cadillac Carlisle had bought her to fix up. The only thing she could do was grow the fear inside the surviving monsters. To make sure they were sleeping with one eye open as they awaited their reckoning. Once that was over, she truly did not know what she would do with her life after. 

What Rosalie did know was where Ulysses Levitt lived. 

The boy came from new money, but he thought he was larger than life. Everyone in town knew where his family’s money had come from, and it wasn’t through the most legal of methods. Still, they were untouchable. Their money and their reputation made sure of that. They were safe from humans. Safe from the law raining fire down on their house and their businesses. But it didn’t protect their child from an immortal beauty dressed in the finest clothes. It didn’t keep him from becoming the next name on her revenge list. 

It was still morning, but it was a cloudy day in Rochester, New York. The darkness in the sky cloaked the rains of the sun, allowing her to walk freely through the streets. Ulysses’ apartment was in the town center. And where it was usually bustling with people, barely a soul was walking the streets. The town was still reeling from the murdered Hubert brothers,  the case too important to fall into the pile of cases that littered the station. There was too much money and too much influence surrounding these murders, and they needed to be solved so the people of Rochester could sleep in peace at night. 

And they should have. But they did not know that the danger that lingered in their city was directed onto a very specific group of men –boys. Death had kissed the eyes of five men and had given Rosalie the power to execute Her will. If others got in her way… well, every war has its odd casualties. 

Ulysses was her prey, and she was ready to go hunting. 

In a sense, she pitied him. The boy had spent his entire life trying to belong. Old money mixed with new money like water and oil. It didn’t matter how much money his family had. It would never be enough to gain the same power the other families had. So, the boy –only a few years older than Rosalie– had done everything he could to fit in with the world around him. And when the events of that night were taking place, he had gone along with what his friends had told him to do. He had ravaged her body without her consent.  Still, the Levitt boy was the only one of the five who had not even been able to look her in the eyes when the deed was done. He was the quickest to finish and the first one to go. And she remembered that grain of mercy. 

But he had still done it. Ulysses Levitt was still the worst kind of monster. 

She would grant him the same amount of mercy when it came to his death, though. Rosalie would grant him a quick and clean death. Well, with a hint of taunting. What fun would it be to simply kill him? His death would be swift, but that had nothing to do with the foreplay. 

She wasn’t surprised when she found his apartment to be locked. An anxious Ulysses was talking to his father on the phone, asking if he had heard anything regarding the Hubert brothers’ killer. Telling the man that he was terrified about the threatening letters he had received and how he feared whoever had sent them would be true to their word.  Unbeknownst to him, she was standing right outside his door. Granted, they were looking for a him, and they were looking for a human. Two things she was not. 

Rosalie granted him the decency to end the phone call. For him to promise his father that he would call Mrs. Levitt later in the week. That he would go home on Friday for a family dinner. Things he would never get to do. But there were so many things she couldn’t do either. Not anymore. Because of him and his friends. 

Just like him and the Hubert boys, she would no longer be able to have dinner with her parents. She wouldn’t be able to take a stroll outside in the daytime, feel the sun warm her skin, or even breathe the fresh air. She wouldn’t be able to plant roots in any city she would live in. And she would never be able to have children or grow old –what she had wanted most in the world. Well, that and her beauty. The only thing she would have for eternity. 

But it was starting to taste bitter. Her beauty had gotten her everything, and her beauty had taken it all away. Still, she couldn’t dread on that just yet. Not until her job was done. 

When Ulysses hung up the phone, she knocked softly on his apartment door. The sound of the wood echoed deep inside her ears. She covered the peephole with her hand in case he decided to look through it and ruin the surprise. But a man like him had no fears. At least, not ones he knew of. 

“Hell… oh,” he choked. His eyes grew big, all the blood draining from his face. “Wha… how…?” 

He tried to close the door on her, but just by reaching her hand out, Rosalie stopped it. She wanted to laugh at how scared he looked. He tripped going backward, scrambling on the floor for something to defend himself with. “What’s wrong, Ulysses?” she smiled sweetly. “Cat got your tongue?” 

“Y-y-you were dead,” he stammered. “We… you were dead.” 

“And I still am,” she said. “Don’t worry, you’re not going crazy, nor do you see a ghost. I can confirm that I am very much here in your presence.” 

“B-but how? If you are dead, there’s no way you could be here. It’s not possible.” 

“There are so many unexplainable things in this world, Ulysses. My new and improved life is one of them,” she grinned, though the words tasted bitter in her mouth. She hadn’t improved. She didn’t even want that life. But, it gave her the upper hand. It gave her just enough power to end the ones that had given Doctor Cullen no other choice but to turn her into what she was –for her body not to be a waste. “But I won’t bore you with those details. We have other things to attend to… well, we is too many people. I have other things –people– to attend to.”

“You killed Andre and Buck,” he gasped silently. “It was you that murdered them that night. And the letters… oh my god, the letters were from you too.” 

“Guilty as charged,” Rosalie chuckled. “And after I am done with you, John and Royce will get what’s coming for them.”

Ulysses kept silent for a moment, his green eyes staring into the crimson red of hers. His heart had steadied, and his breathing was no longer sporadic. Somehow, being faced with inevitable death was calming him. “I deserve that,” he said. “So did the Huberts, and so do John and Royce. What we did to you was unforgivable, so I won’t stand here and apologize. I know what I took part in, and I know just how despicable my actions were. If someone had done that to my sister, I would have gone to the ends of the earth to make the ones who had done it pay. But, can I just ask for one thing?”  

“And what makes you think you are deserving of a last wish?” she questioned. “I surely did not receive that commodity.”  

“I know I am in no place to ask anything of you, nor do you have to grant me this request,”  Ulysses responded as silent tears fell down his cheeks. “But, my mother, she’s sick, and I know it will kill her to find me here. All I want is to write her a letter. Tell her I’ve left town too ashamed of where our family has made its money. When she calls tomorrow, and I don’t answer, she will surely come here and find the letter. Then, I ask that you hide my body where she will never find it.”  

“Why should I grant you this? What convolutes you into believing that you deserve that?” 

“I don’t.” 

His candor took Rosalie aback. All he wanted was to ease his mother’s pain because a runaway son was better than a dead one. And the look in his eyes, the way they pleaded without any more words, twisted something inside her. Maybe she was pitying the boy. Maybe she wished she could have done something like this for her own parents. Maybe it was the fact that he truly seemed to repent for his actions, unlike the empty apologies of Buck and Andre. 

“Alright,” she asserted. “I will grant you that request. For your mother’s sake.” 

With a sad smile, he scurried to his phone table. It took him maybe a minute or two to scribble down what he needed to say. Her eyes followed him as he packed away clothes and papers to make the lie even more believable. When he was done, it truly seemed like he was ready to journey out of New York rather than to the afterlife. 

“Okay,” he sighed, tears still streaming down his eyes. “I’m ready.” 

Rosalie stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She placed one hand on the back of his head and the other on his jaw. The coldness from her hands seemed to make him shiver, but other than that, he was as still as a statute. 

“May your god have mercy on your soul, Ulysses,” she whispered, her eyes trained intently into his. 

“Amen,” he seemed to say before the cracking of his neck filled the air. 

His body fell limp onto the floor, thudding against the wood. But it was done. His green eyes were now empty, and his chest no longer breathed. Wherever his soul was sent to, she wished it a safe voyage. 

The mere thought made her want to burst out in laughter. How she was wishing him a pleasant trip into the afterlife after what he had done. Even more, how she was fulfilling his last wish so that his mother could die with the hope that one day her son would come back. Those were the kinds of ironies the universe seemed to like to play. 

It wasn’t hard to disappear his body. Dirt in the cemetery had recently been overturned, and it was easy enough to lay his body to rest there. The name on top of the grave would not be his, but at least he had been buried. No family to sob over his corpse, no missing posters littering the town, no one to mourn over. It was clean. It was easy. And it was much more than he deserved. 

Rosalie discarded the suitcases in a garbage pile she walked by a week later on her way to the Cadillac Hotel, where John Harris was probably nursing a glass of whiskey in his room, packing his bags to head back home to Atlanta. Unfortunately, he would not return home to his money and family. He wanted to leave his mark in Rochester, and she would make sure it was a corporal statement. 

Getting into the hotel was easy. As the day transitioned into night, more and more people trickled into the bar, hoping to settle their nerves while a killer ran free in their city. Unknowingly, that same killer walked amongst them in a place they thought they were safe in. And they were, technically. There was only one man amongst them who should have been trembling in his shoes, terrified of all she could do –all she would do. 

She spotted him across the bar, trying his luck with a couple of girls not much older than her. And it irked her that he was not as scared for his life as he should have been. But they were paying him no mind. Thankfully, in there, they were safe. He was alone, and there were too many people around to reveal the monster that lay dormant beneath his skin. After they said no too many times and laughed in his face, he left his glass on the mahogany counter and headed for the elevators. 

Rosalie thought she would lose him, but his scent had already permeated her nostrils, and she could hear the gears of the elevator clanking to a stop on the third floor. She sped up the stairs, quick enough to see him sway into room 314 and hear him lock the door behind him. Not that it would help him in any way, but he would open the door willingly. 

The vampire ensured the coast was clear before she knocked on his door, standing just out of sight from the peephole. 

“Who is it?” he called from the other side. 

“It’s Clara,” she spoke in a higher pitch of voice. “Thought I would take you up on your offer after all.”

“I knew you’d change your mind,” he chuckled. “You girls always do.” 

“Well, I couldn’t give you the wrong impression of us Rochester girls.” 

“Sounds good, darling,” he said as the door clicked open. “Hel…” 

His voice died in his throat as Rosalie pushed him inside. She sped until his body slumped against the armchair, and the light could hit her face. “Hello, John.” 

“You’re… you’re… not…” 

“I’m not Clara,” she grinned deviously. “Luckily, she was able to escape your disgusting claws. You get me for the night instead.” 

“No, no, no!” John stammered. “You’re dead. I saw you… on the street. You were dead.” 

“I’m honestly getting tired of people saying that,” she laughed dryly. “I am dead –in a sense. My heart is not beating, my lungs are not breathing, and my appetite… well, let’s just say it’s out of this world.” 

“W-what do you w–want? I’ll give you anything,” he pleaded. Tears fell down his eyes, and it made her scoff.  “Please, I am a good man.” 

“It’s hard to say with all those clothes on,” she grinned. “How could you ever measure the caliber of a person with a simple look? Especially when your vision is shielded with so many pieces of clothing.” 

“I’m sorry I said that,” he cried. “I was drunk and off my head. I promise I have never done anything like that before.” 

“Somehow, I highly doubt that, John. See, you paint me as the type of man that takes what he wants when he wants it, regardless of who you hurt. You take, and you take until you are satiated and leave others to deal with the aftermath of your actions. You took everything you wanted from my body and left me there to rot on that street.” 

“And I know how wrong it was of us,” he rambled. “But we were drunk out of our minds, and we weren’t thinking straight. We should have come back for you. At the very least, we should have left you at the hospital.” 

“You shouldn’t have touched me in the first place,” Rosalie spat. “You should have let me go home to my family. You should have allowed my marriage to go through. You should have let me have the life that I deserved. Instead, you took everything from me.” 

“Then, tell me what to do to fix this. Please, I know I can fix this.” 

Rosalie smiled, unable to shed tears of anger. There was something he had to do, but it would not spare his life. No. It would only gift him with a few seconds more. “What you will do is pick up that phone,” she said, pointing at the ivory-white device. “You will call your pal, Royce. And you will warn him that someone is coming for him. That somehow, a man found out what you did to me and is picking you all off one by one. You will tell him that he should hide. To burrow himself in the deepest corner he can muster. And then, you will hang up.” 

“And after, will you spare me?” John questioned, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

“Oh, John, of course not,” she laughed melodiously. “But I’m saving Royce for last, and I want his death to be delicious. At least make my death count for something.” 

“W-what if I called the police instead? They will tear down this door and stop you.” 

“I’d be long gone before they even had a chance to step foot into the hotel. And you’d still be dead as well as Royce. Because, thanks to your brutality, I have become faster and stronger than any human in existence. I am invincible, John. Something I wasn’t that night. So, pick up that phone and call your friend before I lose my patience and snap your neck earlier in the schedule.” 

With trembling hands, John lifted the receiver from the stand, rotating in the number she dictated. She could see the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead; she could hear the way his heart beat frantically; she could almost feel the way his bones rattled inside his skin. It was an addictive feeling. The power she had over him, and she didn’t even have to move a muscle. All she required was the way she looked and the words she spoke. Maybe that was why they had done it. Simply because they could. 

“Oh, hello, Mrs. King,” John said as the other line picked up, panic deeply laced into his words. “Yes, it’s John. I just had some quick words to say to Royce… I did hear about the Huberts. Such a shame… I didn’t know that Ulysses ran away… Yes, maybe one day… Yeah, I don’t have much time. Is Royce there…? Of course. Thank you, Mrs. King.” 

Rosalie listened to every syllable he spoke, making sure he did not step out of script. She wanted to terrify Royce King with an invisible threat. She wanted him to feel like he was being watched –like he was being hunted. She wanted him to cower into despair, even if only for a few hours. She wanted him to feel weak. 

“Listen, Royce,” John’s voice spoke again. “I don’t have much time. But someone found out about Rosalie just like we thought… I don’t know how, but they are picking us off one by one… He tried to get me tonight, man… Listen, just… you have to hide, okay? Find someplace secluded and stay there until shit dies down… Ulysses didn’t leave, Royce. He’s dead… Just hide. Tonight!” 

The receiver hit the base with a loud pang, and John’s gaze fell back on Rosalie. The devilish smile she wore made his insides shiver; she could perceive that much. He looked frail and weak. Nothing like the monster that had ravaged her body without her consent. The creature that had used fangs and claws to take from her something that she was not giving. 

“Good,” she applauded. “It’s nice to see a man that can follow instructions. Now, John. This won’t be messy, but it will be rather slow. And I’ll tell you exactly how I’m going to do it.” 

“God, please, just spare me. Royce is the one that you want,” he begged, falling onto his knees before her. “He’s the one that should have protected you. Please, just let me go back home.” 

“Do you think I can go home, John? Did any of you spare me and grant me the mercy of going home?” she asked through gritted teeth. “You didn’t. No. You took my life into your hands and watched as, minute by minute, it drained and slipped from your fingers. And that’s exactly how you’re going to go, John. I will wrap my cold, dead hands around your throat and cut out your life source until there is nothing left. I will look into your eyes until your soul leaves your body. And I will make sure I am the last face you ever stare at on this earth.” 

John scrambled backward on the armchair. The piece of furniture clattered onto the ground as the man made a futile attempt to escape to his balcony. There was nowhere he could go. No one he could call.

“You can’t do this!” he wailed. “Not to me. You can’t do this to me!” 

“Don’t you get it? The time for clamoring is over, John. Now, say your goodbyes to the world.” 

In an instant, Rosalie stood before him. Her pale hands wrapped around his neck, just as she had described. He tried to claw at them, to hurt her enough to run. But his nails were met with stone-like skin –impenetrable. He could not even move his head at the grip she held him with. Only his arms and legs could reach for a desperate attempt at freedom. Something that would never come. 

She knew it hadn’t taken long. But time seemed to have slowed as she watched the colors change on the man’s face. Her fingers barely squeezed, but his skin turned an array of reds and purples until it finally paled. And she swore she could tell the second his soul finally left his body. His eyes turned lifeless right before her own. They had emptied themselves, confirming the void that had been created inside of his body. There were no more pleas, no more tears, no more anger. He was simply another body. And just like he had done to her, Rosalie left his body on the ground for someone else to find. 

He wasn’t the death that would satiate her. No. Royce was on his way to dig his own grave. He just didn’t know it yet.

Next ->

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Taglist: @winter-soldier-101 @zheezs14 @a-sifu-hotman @byelannie @sunflowerleii @dyslexiccatterpillar @blackbluerose666 @slutforsainz @kortniec696  @xcastawayherosx @bluebirbnamedjay @sirenheadenby @andreiaafaria @bluetreecloud20 @sunshine2894  @valejewel  @mushroomelephant  @swidkid  @skyesthebomb @esposadomd @nocturnalherb16 @rosalie-whitlock

@avis15 @honeylovemoon @wonieeee @baebeepeach @krazyk99 @klf1999 @sl-ut @adaydreamaway08 @toomanythoughts33 @sugasthreedollarkookie @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @honeywxter @haroldpotterson @kaita11 @gangstalicious06 @uwunuggetchan @elijahssuit @multifandomreader73 @ellabellabus07 @blackloveangel13 @euphoria1992

@saltedcoffeescotch  @lowkeysaurus @zealouscookierebeltrash @sleepilysworld @laylasbunbunny @american-satanes @cevans-winchester  @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @jstarr86 @coquita @ilikepunsbeth  @itsmytimetoodream @laury-blackbeak @unstablekay @midnightmisses @magical-spit @ratsys @hopexargent @druigsluver29  @fresita1218 @unicornicopia1 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @nessaasstuff @simon-e-mallory

@fandom-simp-aleksandra @isybella2408 @cinffy23 @second-daughter-of-clexa

@urmomsfav-stuff @evattude @cerejinha @the-irish-princess @alyeskathewave @heartfilia01

[mllemaenad]

Sorry to see you leaving '76 for a while, but I can see why you did - have you done the Pitt sidequests there? I know it really depressed me, seeing the Union trying to turn the Pitt into a working city again, knowing how things are going to be in a couple of centuries

Yeah, I've taken Tessa out to the Pitt. That was a harrowing experience. From a gameplay perspective, I admit I found it a little disappointing. The endless level 100 bullet-sponge enemies weren't really fun to fight, they just made exploring extremely slow and frustrating. It just felt like another place where I was being punished for not really wanting to do the multiplayer thing. And I have never been able to complete the final optional objectives in either expedition. I don't know how one person is supposed to be in three places at once.

That said, the difficulty level really did hammer home how screwed the Unionists are.

Because, yeah, the Pitt is a grim tragedy from start to finish. Even at the end of the Fallout 3 DLC it's hard to feel like you've significantly bettered anyone's existence. My Fallout 3 character, Hope, very much does not have a good time there either.

It's not just "a couple of centuries", though. There's this, from the old Fallout 3 game guide:

The most disturbing change that the environment caused was not nearly as noticeable as the physical deformities. The infected water and poisoned sky began to cause neurological damage to those exposed to it. People became more hostile, violent, and short-tempered; they became known as "Wildmen." Their emotions became out of control, and their actions often teetered on primal. In severe cases, mutated humans devolved into hunched, savage beasts nicknamed "Trogs." Over the first 50 years, The Pitt quickly degenerated into a dangerous den of murderers and rapists; even cannibalism was not uncommon. The only loyalty was in strength, and the only organization was between those who were strong enough to control others and those who were controlled. Rumors of the horrors of The Pitt spread throughout the Wasteland, and all travelers knew to avoid it at all costs. However, The Pitt became one of the most self-sufficient communities in the Wastes. Granted, their self-sufficiency relied on the citizens occasionally eating one another, but they functioned without trade or export. – Fallout 3 (GOTY) Official Prima Guide, p. 44

Fifty years. It's currently 2105 in Fallout 76, some 28 years after the bombs fell. Within the next 32 years, the Pitt will collapse entirely into an isolated, gang-run slave state. The really distressing thing about those expeditions is that you're watching the collapse of a civilisation in real time.

The Unionists used to be doing better. They were relying on their manufacturing capabilities to produce unique resources for trade, which would allow them to clean up and rebuild their city. By the time you get there in Fallout 76, they've lost both the Foundry and the Sanctum, and they're clearly being backed into a corner. They never really recovered from the "Bloody Thursday" assault. There are forced labour camps up and running right now, and if you do the From Ashes to Fire quest Danilo repeatedly makes it clear that you're really only able to give a fraction of the slaves a chance to run. Tessa found a woman in the process of being walled up, and spent ages trying to see if the pickaxes would work to bring down the walls. They wouldn't.

They Unionists are losing. And they're going to keep on losing, no matter what you do.

What's worse is how utterly abandoned these people are. Skippy Roerich and Wernher are very different men with very different motives, but it's noteworthy that their stories, set centuries apart, start more or less the same way: they just walk out of their home state, and keep on walking, in the hope of finding someone, anyone, who is both willing and able to help.

Skippy walked out to West Virginia, which is apparently 367km. Wernher walked 402km to Washington DC. Those are, at least roughly, comparable journeys. That's how far a person has to get from the Pitt in order to bring back assistance. No one closer can or will do anything.

And the thing is? Skippy succeeded! He found a society in the process of rebuilding, and it had an aid organisation with access to an actual vertibird that could fly people and supplies back to the Pitt at least relatively quickly. We know they're doing that. They're sending supplies in, as well as the volunteer fighters that make up the expeditions.

But. Roll around to Fallout 3 and there's no sign of the Responders, or the Appalachian freedom fighters. There isn't any record or mention of them either.

Now, obviously Fallout 3 was made before Fallout 76 and you wouldn't expect them to have everything worked out ahead of time. But some things are clearly established in the timeline before there are games about them: there's a terminal entry in Fallout 3 describing Vault 76's status as a control vault, and the The Replicated Man quest established both the Institute and their synths – to the point that it was very common speculation that Fallout 4 would be set there and be about that well before there were any details about it.

What they establish in the Fallout 3 game guide is that the Pitt is completely isolated within 50 years of the Great War. So, for reasons unknown, the Appalachians are going to stop helping. And they're going to stop relatively soon. And then no one will help the slaves kept there again, at least until the Lone Wanderer may make the attempt in Fallout 3.

All the horrors you have to navigate your way around on those expeditions? The people they had chained down in bathtubs? The electric chairs? The cells? Walling people in like they're in a bloody Edgar Allan Poe story? All that is staying. Indefinitely. And we can add to it an infant mortality rate so high that they are "forced" to import slaves from elsewhere because the population can't otherwise sustain itself.

Yeah. The Pitt makes me very, very sad.

[dee-in-the-box]

so. thought a little too hard about my headcanons for Dsaf 3. and now i'm a bit sad. so now y'all get some!

Jack listening to Henry's tapes and getting about...five more reasons to want to tear that man to shreds. at lest three of them involved Dave. the other two involve Dee and himself.

Dee first coming out of her box in The Flipside looking like the Puppet, but then shifting into looking like herself again when she sees Jack. and then shifting into the Puppet again when the fight starts. just. my Dee shapeshifting headcanon <3 (basically, after she died, Dee could shift her ghostly appearance into being either the Puppet or a ghostly version of herself)

Jack looking at Blackjack and just seeing a younger version of himself, frozen in time. this young man in his early twenties, his whole life ahead of him, who had all of that ripped away from him cruelly. his sister. his brother. himself. all by the same man. reduced to a snarling ball of rage, who wants nothing more than to rip Henry to shreds where he stands. the only reason he hasn't done so is because he's been convinced that doing so won't truly set him free. when Fredbear told Jack that, despite the souls desiring vengeance, killing their killer would not set them free, Blackjack took that to mean that it wouldn't set him free either. he's been stewing in his rage and grief for decades, neither feeling ever subsiding in that time. if anything, his rage has only increased. he lost everything because of Henry. why wouldn't he be angry? and so, if everyone else must move on, and leave him there to guard Henry and make sure he doesn't cause any problems, alone, then he will.

Jack finally helping to set him free, looking his younger self in the eyes and saying maybe that means that killing Henry is the one thing that will set him free. and even if it isn't...well, he needs to be dealt with, anyway. what if he gets out and causes problems again? just...Jack looking at Blackjack and feeling both like he's looking at a window into the past, yet also like he's looking at a different person entirely. because he and Blackjack are separate people, technically. but it's also him looking at himself.

Jack holding Dave's hand as they confront Henry, and squeezing it a little bit reassuringly. Dave tightening his grip as he gets more stressed.

Peter's death in the Henry fight being the thing that makes Jack say that their anger pushes them harder, and Dee's death leading to the line "We're gonna fuckin' FLAY you alive, Henry!" from Jack...like. just imagine how enraged he probably sounded, seeing Dee go down again. do you think it reminded him of the day she died? the day he went back to the diner to find her and bring her home, only for him to keep calling out for her and looking for her as the horror dawned on him that he couldn't find her? do you think that's what was running through his mind?

Jack and Dave reaching the end, and jack admitting that he can't go with them. Blackjack interjecting that...there is something they can try. no guarantee that it'll work, but it's worth a shot. Blackjack can try to fuse back together with him; not necessarily the same thing as shoving someone's soul back into their body, which is a big no no, apparently, but maybe a piece of him will break off, and it'll become Jack's soul. maybe them fusing will trick the universe into thinking Jack has a soul. who knows, but hopefully it'll work. and it does. Jack, by some miracle, gets his own soul out of this in a way that'll allow Blackjack to still exist. he also gets Free Afterlife Top Surgery™, because at this point he deserves it. he's been through so much shit.

at the end of the fire, Jack just looks at Dave and Blackjack and says "Come on, guys. Let's go home."

i just. aaaaaaAAAAAAAAA-

also, some Afterlife headcanons for y'all:

Peter: "Jackie, with all due respect, you have the weirdest taste in men." Jack just hanging out with Dave in the corner: "Peter, wtf-"

Steven just immediately laid down on the floor of the Afterlife and slept for a while. he was. So Fucking Tired.

Jack: "Okay, therapy circle time-" Dave: "Absolutely not, we don't have time to unpack all that." Jack: "Dave, we have nothing BUT time to unpack all of that-"

Peter and Caroline reunion <3

[lila-rae]

For the 2 people who asked for this ( @jeanjamesb @yesimscots )

I really want us to normalize viewing celebrities as first and foremost humans that share pretty much all the same traits, wants, desires, annoyances as any human.

Celebrities are not fictional characters. Their lives aren’t like your favorite movie couple solely existing when they’re seen by the media. They have lives that probably look similar to your own.

Now Lila where are you going with this?

So glad you asked. Last night I got an ask that essentially said “Z is back in London because she liked a post a 4:30am London time”. Ignoring the fact that if she was back in LA it would be fine. I want to talk about how in only her apparently being awake at 4:30 seems unfathomable. I’m pretty sure everyone on this godforsaken dumpster fire of an app has been on here at 3/4/5 in the morning. Whether that’s from waking up in the middle of the night or just staying up late, we know it’s not an impossibility that people would be awake on social media in the middle of the night. Hell I’m constantly on here at 4/5 am. It doesn’t indicate a time zone jump. But also if she was in LA who cares. That changes nothing about their relationship no matter how much some of you hope it will. But again what makes Z do special that being up at 4:30 is a shocking act?

Now I also want to point out the “he’s golfing where is she” “he’s golfing clearly she left” “he left her alone to go hang out with his friends” asks that popped up. They are in a romantic relationship but it is not the only personal relationship they have. It is healthy to still have friends. It is healthy to have time by yourself. They don’t need to, and shouldn’t, spend 24 hours a day together. I don’t know a single couple, and let’s be real neither do you, that spends every moment of free time together. You know why? Because that would be unhealthy. Him going on a guys trip is healthy and also great for him. It’s amazing to see people especially men nourishing their friendships in adulthood. But also even without a big trip doing things alone isn’t weird or indicative of your relationship health. You know what I love to do? Go to target by myself and just roam the aisles. Does that mean I’d rather be at target than with my family? Nope. It means I enjoy time to myself and drinking coffee while leaning on a cart. If we see one out shopping while they’re in the same city it is not inherently a negative thing. It’s just normal human behavior.

So next time you decide this is weird maybe analyze that thought a little more and see if you’d think it was bad if any other person/couple you know did it.

And I get that the people who actually need to hear this will probably ignore it, but just in case you don’t, I want you to reevaluate how you view relationships and think about wether or not you’re setting up an unhealthy mindset when it comes to relationships. Like forget the TZness of it all. These asks clearly show a lack of knowledge of healthy interpersonal relationships, (familial, platonic, and romantic). And I want better for you.

[tiredlylaughing]

An analysis/rant about netflix's ATLA episode 1

who is that guy ?????

oh he's dead now ig it doesn't matter

the people in the intro were giving uncanny

i like the costumes, they're cute, i like zuko's crew especially. and i like that everyone on the ship is wearing armor except for iroh

aang's airbending bordered on flying waaay too many times

loooove gordon cormier, he's such a great aang

interesting choice to have them know about the comet right from the beginning ? i mean i guess it works to set up the end earlier on. i do actually think i like that it was originally something the air nomads celebrated and it got stolen from them by the fire nation

my biggest pet peeve continues to be how much they just say the things meant to be showed or explored later on. zuko wastes a scene info dumping to his uncle about things he already knows just so the audience is caught up, gran gran spits out all the avatar lore suddenly, aang gives an entire monologue about being the avatar before he runs away when his thoughts should absolutely not be that clear about it yet.

appa crying ;(((((((( my day was ruined

i'm about to be very predictable but i think it's so stupid that aang wasn't even trying to run away after finding out he's the avatar. they left out what feels like an entire part of his arc and now he feels more like a vessel of information rather than an actual person with feelings

i hate the glowy eyes when they firebend lol

i like that they left in katara being a bad bender at the start instead of just making her a girlboss

no penguin sledding FUCKKK WHAT'S EVEN THE POINT ANYMORE

dallas liu sounds so much like zuko to me. like, his voice is so different but it just sounds like zuko

fire fucking shot what the hell

aang's nightmares make no sense when we just saw what happened barely a minute ago, it's fine if that's how they wanted to set up his past but it doesn't feel like these things happened 100 years ago at all. the nightmares could've come in later or never at all.

i love that aang and katara still got their bonding moment, even if it was different from the original

didn't get a boomerang scene. so fucking sad

the conversation between iroh and aang was cool👍

NO MOTHERFUCKING YIP YIP ?????? IS THIS WHAT THE WORLD HAS COME TO

anyway, zuko was such a weirdo <3 love that <33 now for the serious opinions

it bothers me SO much that this guy is so old, like what's the purpose of sokka then ?? if the rest of the men in the tribe aren't literal toddlers ??

sure sokka was the protector but this guy existing means he wasn't ever that alone in that role. it makes who he was a lot more superficial. sure, you can argue some of the people of the southern water tribe believed the role was superficial, or just not that important, but to sokka it was who he was and what shaped him. i'm guessing they probably did this because it was kind of insane to leave the entire tribe alone without sokka there to protect them. but to me that was always the point. sokka didn't want to leave, but he understood that leaving them alone was for a greater good that would ultimately mean all of their safety. he was able to leave because he knew, in a way, he was still doing everything he could to protect them. now he just gets to walk away without any worries, leaving behind a role that was apparently not even that important to him ?? also !! it does feel a bit sexist on the creators' part to think that surely those women couldn't have survived on their own, they need whoever has some testosterone to protect them. that's literally what hakoda did and what caused sokka to have wrong ideals (wether or not hakoda did it with these intentions or not). so. the showrunners just did that to another character but without punishing it this time.

[broken-clover]

Five Animated Moments (+1 book) That Terrified me as a Kid

Happy Halloween! It's one of my favorite holidays, the time where we all relish in all things spooky.

I love horror media! But that wasn't always the case. As a kid, I was easily scared by...damn, probably easier to make a list of what *didn't* creep me out. Even stuff designed specifically for kids tended to scare me beyond what was probably reasonable. And, looking back on it, a lot of those moments come off as innocent or straight-up ridiculous as an adult, but even knowing that, you can still remember the bone-chilling terror it brought you when you were a child who didn't know better.

I enjoy it whenever I see people on the internet make videos or discuss their traumatic childhood shows and movies, so I thought it'd be fun to make a little list of my own! If anything, it can be reassuring to see that we all had a dumb moment or two that our little-kid brains were mortally terrified of, no matter how stupid it might have been. Scenes are in no particular order, aside from #1 (and if you've been around for a while, you probably already know what it is)

List below for compactness:

#5- The filter scene (Finding Nemo)

Feels like most people have that one moment in a Disney or Pixar moment that stuck with them. Mine is...I wouldn't say 'unusual,' but it's not one I see brought up super frequently. And, oddly, there are times where I'll straight-up forget this scene exists. But whenever it came on when I was little, I'd be terrified.

Finding Nemo came out when I was about four, and it was one of my childhood favorites. I loved animals, and I loved movies with animals, so I watched it over and over. I'd quote it at day camp and pretend I was one of the movie's characters whenever I went swimming. Doesn't mean it didn't still scare the shit out of me, though.

For those who haven't seen the movie, or don't remember, the filter scene occurs partway through the movie in the dentist's office. As part of the plan to escape the tank, Nemo has to jump out of the water and into the filter box to jam the fan, before swimming back to the tank through the fan tube.

rewatching it now, I can see why it set me off. The combination of the tube's claustrophobia and the imminent threat of being torn apart is a scary thing. The sound design doesn't help- the harsh grating noise of the fan and the sound of nervous breathing echoed off of the narrow path just makes everything more uncomfortable.

#4- Maurice Meets the Beast (Beauty and the Beast)

Here's, at least, one I see talked about more often. Which is good, because it should be.

Disney Princess movies were another childhood favorite of mine, a love fostered by my maternal grandmother, who loved princess stories even more than I did. I grew up with all the classics, and I watched them over and over again. Didn't mean they still didn't terrify me every time, though...

At least this one was *supposed* to be terrifying, as the audience's first up-close scene with the beast after the intro.

Like with the Nemo scene, I think sound factors a lot into what makes this so scary. The thunder, voices and steps echoing off the empty castle walls, and, of course, the snarling roars. The moments of levity between the arrival and the beast's appearance I think actually enhance the horror due to the whiplash. The moment the situation seems to turn safe and inviting, it's suddenly wrenched away and made all the more worse.

#3- Video-Man (Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends)

So if the last two were a little too mainstream, here's something a little out of left field. So far out, apparently, that I can't even find a good video example to show off.

I grew up in the early 2000's. There were plenty of good superhero cartoons to watch: Justice League, Static Shock, Teen Titans, and if you wanted to dip back into the 90's, there were absolute classics like BTAS, X-Men, and Freakazoid!

Did I watch any of these growing up?

No.

I had 'Spiderman and his Amazing Friends.'

For those unfamiliar, it was a 1981 cartoon in a similar art style to the Spiderman solo series released the same year. It starred the titular character alongside Iceman and OC-made-for-the-show Firestar going on adventures. I watched all three seasons on DVD whenever we went to visit my grandparents. Though I can't say for certain where it originated from, my best guess is that the DVD rips originally belonged to my father and were just lying around at my grandmother's house. I recently rewatched the series after about twenty years and was amazed at how many episodes I remembered...and how stiff the animation was. God, the 80's-ness of the whole thing seeps into every cel.

The copious amount of intro information is both to explain the series and to hold off for as long as I can the fact that as a kid I was scared shitless of this idiot

This, as the title suggests, is Video-Man, another of the show's OC's. Given that this came out in the 80's, where arcades were popular and video games were becoming more publicly widespread, I can only guess he was made to try and capitalize on the trend. And jesus christ did they try, because in this one series they tried to introduce him three goddamn times. Once as a creation of Shocker, once as a hero, and once as an entity from a corrupted arcade cabinet. All three were episodes I found unnerving, but the last one is the one that haunted me...which is funny, because it has the least Video-Man even in it!

In season 2 episode 1, 'The Origin of the Iceman, there's a point partway through where J. Jonah Jameson is zapped into Video-Man's arcade cabinet in a junkyard. Upon realizing what's happened, he starts walking down an endlessly repeating hallway.

And that's it. Literally that's all that happens. For Video-Man himself, I can kinda get what freaked me out, his simplistic design and strange movements do feel a little uncanny, but the fact that I was terrified by a blank looping hallway for years is harder to explain. Even if I did have a clip to show everyone, I don't think it would make much more sense.

#2- Literally Goddamn Everything (Jimmy Neutron)

Ahh, 2000's TV cgi. In retrospect I can appreciate some of the strides made during the time, but ironing out the rough spots takes time and effort, and in the process, you might scar some kids.

I hated this show. I'm sure it's good, but kid-me was never able to get past the instinctive uneasiness I had for the animation. I mostly watched traditional animation, though I'd seen Pixar movies, so I knew what that sort of animation *was,* yet I still could never watch the show without discomfort. The animation was too exaggerated in the strangest places, the movements were 'off' in a way I couldn't describe, and some of the concepts it pulled out for episodes didn't help in making things feels any less creepy.

If I have to narrow it down from 'everything,' I have clear, crisp memories of every time the episode 'Sheen's Brain' came on, I would flee the room.

#1- Larry-Boy and the Fib from Outer Space! (Veggietales)

Again, if you know me well enough, you probably saw this coming.

Princess movies, Pixar, superhero cartoons...and Veggietales. All my childhood staples. And, in hindsight, I still have a fondness for all of them. Disney and Pixar had some beautiful art and fun stories, spiderman might have been cheesy, but it was still fun and creative, and Veggietales is a Christian series I'll still give praise to, because it actually felt like it was trying to impart good values onto kids, and it could still be silly while doing it. In addition to bible stories, there were all sorts of pop-culture pastiches, like the Larry-Boy episodes.

And that's where we get into this. The Larry-Boy episodes tended to get the most outlandish and creative since the creators were working within the absurd realm of superhero media. Hence, in order to create an episode about the importance of honestly and why lying is bad, THEY TURNED IT INTO A GIANT MANEATING ALIEN THAT ALMOST KILLS THE MAIN CHARACTER

And, trust me, as an adult I fully recognize how goddamn stupid the whole thing sounds. I think the early CGI contributed a fair bit to it. Veggietales generally managed to avoid the uncanny valley due to it intentionally using simplistic, limbless characters. Even with as blobby as it is, the fib monster is a lot more detailed than most of the series' characters around the time, so maybe it gave me of an opportunity be be uncanny.

The reason it gets to be #1 so easily is because it absolutely had the most profound level of terror to me. I was once so terrified of this episode that I took our VHS copy of it and stuffed it behind the TV stand and tried to force my mom to sell it at the annual garage sale so I didn't even have to look at the cardboard jacket with the fib's face on it. Something about this purple lump of bastard gave me regular nightmares for much longer than it had any goddamn right to.

Bonus Book!

In an attempt to salvage any dignity I have here, my bonus example is something I still think is genuinely horrifying nowadays.

Let me introduce you to David Shannon's 'A bad Case of Stripes,' a book that took such a simple moral of 'be yourself and like what you like' to the most inexplicably body-horror end possible.

The book follows a girl named Camilla, who enjoys lima beans despite none of her friends liking them. In order to fit in, she pretends to hate them, too. Soon after, she appears to come down with a strange disease, turning her skin rainbow-striped, as the cover shows. When she goes to school, her skin starts turning into more colors and patterns, to her classmates' amusement. Definitely weird, and the art style is a bit uncanny, but nothing too bad, right?

AND THEN THE BOOK JUST GOES NUTS

As doctors try to find the cause of her condition, Camilla starts shafting into more and more bizarre forms based on what they hypothesize the reason. She's entirely lucid and conscious as her body malforms and starts sprouting these random additions

the climax of the book occurs when a meditation specialist suggests that Camilla try to relax and 'become one with the room' TO WHICH THIS CHILD FUCKING FUSES TO THE FURNITURE OF HER HOUSE.

Imagine being, say, five or so, being introduced to this book. I didn't really understand what body horror was in any capacity, I had never even conceptualized the idea of a human becoming something like this in such a visceral way. The art does do a lot of the legwork, but the fact that the narrative by itself goes to such lengths absolutely makes it unique, but unique in a 'Mr. Shannon are you sure you should be writing for children' way.

Happy Halloween everyone. Jesus fucking christ.

[gigglemugger]

Shaking With a Deadly Fear.

Fandom: The Evil Clergyman - H.P. Lovecraft, Jeffrey Combs in general.

Pairing: None. Gen.

Synopsis:

Sally Elmer is excited to see her bigger sister Susan Brady again. However, upon arrival, she realizes there's something really wrong with her and that it might have something to do with a certain lover she has taken in the past. Now, Sally must go against the demonic Evil Clergyman for the hope of getting what's left of her sister's soul back.

A.K.A. An entirely TOO long Evil Clergyman, basically sequel fic, that was beamed into my brain after I finished watching the movie the first time.

No comment.

Absolutely not beta read.

THE GIF IS DECEPTIVE. THERE IS NO SMUT HERE. I'M NOT GOOD AT WRITING THAT. IT'S STILL GRAPHIC THOUGH.

Word Count: 12,052.

AO3 Tags: The Evil Clergyman - Freeform, I will gladly go down as the only person in history who wrote a 37 page Evil Clergyman fanfiction, Jeffrey Combs is in this but he's not the main character by far, Yes I am sad as well, I Don't Even Know, Why Did I Write This?Psychological Horror, Family bonding over having a sister possessed by the devil and needing to save her still counts right?, Family, I wonder if this is what H.P. Lovecraft envisioned when he wrote The Evil Clergyman, Of course not this isn't even what the screenwriters envisioned when they wrote The Evil Clergyman, I basically gave the main character a new family and life cause she didn't have any, i don't know how to tag things.

Language: English.

CW: A LOT. This is not my regular fanfic, it's more like an edgier version of what I write nowadays (which is either comedy, character studies, or melancholic horror, or all three) so: Men being gross, graphic depictions of violence, possession, sexual themes, suicide, smoking.

AO3 link.

Work notes (important):

For notes, I'll simply post what I prefaced my word document with, which I recommend reading cause it does clarify some things:

The Evil Clergyman Fanfiction cause why not. I mean, why not. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t write this right now.

Things I’ll add:

1. Name for the main character cause she doesn’t got any.

2. A life and family for the main character. She also doesn’t got any. Poor thing, she just exists, really.

3. Ok, scratch that, apparently she has a husband and her name is… *squints* Said Brady. Is it a typo? Is it supposed to be just Brady, the last name, but they (director? Producer?) said Brady one time and whoever wrote the credits thought that was the first name? Very confusing stuff.

4. Whatever, I’ll keep Said as the name. Anyone who wants to correct me, feel so free to do so. The world is your commentary oyster. Go ham.

5. Oh God, if I keep Said as a name will I have to write “Said said?” Oh no.

6. Her name is now Susan. Said is a nickname. It was the natural thing to do.

7. Ok, apparently no one knows shit about this film, cause I can’t find anything online. Like, what did they intend with this (short) movie other than making an erotic rereading of the original Lovecraft tale? I mean, whatever, works for me.

8. I don’t completely understand the setting of the film. It seems to be a monastery, but also… Not? I’ll just say it’s a tower and that father Jonathan was working at church. At which point does this cross the point of fanfiction to simply just fiction? Who knows?

9. Did Jonathan’s bedroom have a table?? I’m not gonna watch it again to see if it did, I already watched it twice. I mean it’s good, but it’s not that good. The original Evil Clergyman™ has a desk, so I’ll add that. Get rekt Jonathan.

10. Ok. Let’s go girls. *Shania Twain bops in the distance* *Yes this is a songfic now*

I was clearly having a breakdown here and wrote this in three days. Further warnings would be:

There’s a surprising lack of Jeffrey Combs in this fanfiction. There’s possessed-with-Jeffrey-Combs’-spirit-Barbara-Crampton, but nothing too non-PG. I know, I am upset as well. He appears as a character some of the time and he is still very much debated, but unfortunately this is kind of like… Its own thing. Like a weird sequel almost?

Does this still qualify as fanfiction?

This piece is also riddled with original characters I decided to make up for shits and giggles. I don’t know why either, this fanfiction came to me in a vision right after I finished watching the movie and it stuck with me, so I had to purge it. This is also very much NOT beta read, like, at all. I barely skimmed through it after I was done with it, so any mistakes or incongruenties are entirely my fault and likely will never be fixed. I’m sorry.

Proceed with caution all ye that might even read this. You were warned.

(Also, I would like to say that any opinions expressed about Yoko Ono in this fanfiction are not necessarily that of the author’s. Enjoy.)

—

“I became good at pretending. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job of pretending, I even fooled myself.”

Ruta Sepetys

—

When I walked into the room that day, I hadn’t expected to leave as a monster. I don’t know what I did expect, in the cold air of that deadly tower where we made love every day for two months. Maybe to see him again. Maybe to be free. They told me he— I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to see with my own eyes and remember what we had. It is a stupid thought in retrospect, considering what I know now, but you have to understand that those two months were the best thing that happened in my life. I know it sounds sad, but I didn’t have it great, not always. You have to be a peculiar type of person to fuck a clergyman, I guess, to look at that life choice and pretend it’s a good one. But Jonathan wasn’t like other men. Jonathan was perfect.

—

Sally was waiting for her sister to come back home. She looked around for the comfort of the window, anticipating, with an anxious heartbeat, for the car to arrive at the door. She hopped on one foot, then the other, then checked the cupboard for more muffins, then the cooking books her sister kept on the white shelves, beside the potted plants. Nothing was enough. She ended up at the counter again.

At present, the place where Sally stood in was a perfectly suburban kitchen. It was immaculate in its tidying and cleaning, thanks to the matriarch of the house, Susan “Said” Brady, née Elmer, the eldest of the Elmer daughters. Sally was the youngest and Sandra was the middle child, and now was finishing her art course at an university. There was a difference of roughly eight years between Susan and Sally, which would put the eldest at twenty-five, nearly twenty-six and the youngest at a measly eighteen, which she loathed with all her might.

“What’s taking her so long?” Sally wondered, supporting her face on her hand and playing with her brother in law’s car keys, a car that was parked at the garage and that she looked at as if it was some sort of demon “She should be here…”

Sally looked at the glistening metal and at the chipped, black top, that was scratched all over and sighed a dramatic sigh that only someone that had been waiting an awfully long time could make sound so incredibly disgruntled and miserable.

“How you holding up, Sal?” a male voice asked and she jumped in place, making her long ponytail move up at an alarming speed “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare yo—Ouch!” he continued, after she playfully hit his arm. It was just David, her sister’s husband.

Her sister’s perfect husband.

“I’m okay,” she answered with a shrug, “Just worried about Said, that’s all.”

“Oh, she’ll be home soon. She had to go to Betty’s house to help her with the baby, these things take time. Sometimes even a whole night. You know how she gets over that kinda stuff, especially now that Betty’s husband died. Saint Susan,” he joked, looking a tad uncomfortable. Sally wondered what it was about, that uncharacteristic smile, but David’s teeth were perfect, so she couldn’t concentrate on much “She had no idea you’d be arriving today, otherwise I am sure that she would have thrown a party.”

The Elmer family was from California, but Susan lived in North Carolina now and Sandra went to college in New York, leaving poor Sally stranded back home. She usually spoke with her sisters over on the telephone whenever she could, and even if San usually had time for her, Susan was a respectful family woman now, a far cry from the unruly teenager that a five to nine year old Sally admired so much.

“I’m so sorry, Sal,” she’d say to Sally, over the telephone, sounding clearly tired enough to pass out right there “I can’t really talk right now, David is having a situation at work and I need to go there to help him, then to church to assist in the fundraiser that I’m helping the ladies with. It’s all a chaos right now. I’ll call you back, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Sal answered in the present, lowering her head and finding herself unable to hide her discontentment from David. Either that, or not wanting to. He lowered his head to look at her better, which made her smile.

“Don’t worry, Sal,” he said, with a smile “She’ll be here in a jiffy.”

—

A jiffy turned out to be fifty minutes more, which Sally used to unpack her things and occupy the guest bedroom, making sure to put up her posters. It was like preparation for college, if she decided to go. She was to stay for one month, and her parents hoped that one month with her best, most responsible sister would be enough to dissuade her of the idea of a sabbatical year. Shrugging that off, she took the next poster in hands. No way would she forget to pin up her Tears for Fears poster, or her Culture Club one. It was a far cry from the Beatles in the sixties, whom insisted in staying black and white for so long they became a stupid fucking band towards the end, just to break up over a dumb bitch.

At least that’s what she heard her friend Brittany say.

“That Yoko Ono woman is the worst fucking bitch there is,” she’d say in the bathroom of their school, when both were sixteen and Brittany hadn’t graduated and gone off to live with her boyfriend.

“Why?” Sally would ask, shamefully coughing through the drag she took of the cigarette offered, the smoke filling her lungs as her system tried to expel it back out. Brittany pretended not to notice. They were close like that.

“Well,” she turned around, her brown hair swooshing around her in a halo, putting her arm on top of the cold, white sink. “Simple,” Sally, engulfed in a white cloud, passed her the cigarette, which she dragged on without any issues “You don’t cheat on your husband and then steal another woman’s man in the process. It’s not even sanitary, for Christ’s sake. You got a dick and you go after another? She probably got a venereal disease,” Sally chuckled at that.

“Maybe you’re right… I mean, cheating is wrong, obviously” Sally said, adding the last part to not sound so dull. She wanted to agree with Brittany because Brittany was older, but, even though she knew she was correct, it just made her sound pathetically young, a toddler by comparison. When Brittany turned again, Sally pretended she wasn’t looking.

“Cheating. Is. Wrong,” Brittany agreed, putting emphasis on every single word with a swing of the cigarette hand, before taking another drag. She blew out the smoke in a circle, to a starry eyed audience “Remember that,” Brittany continued, tapping the cigarette on the sink “My dad went with that dumb bank cashier and no good came to either him or my mom. Or the bank cashier for that matter. It’s all a fucking mess. If you wanna hear my opinion, you find someone you like and you mate for life. Got it, kid?” Sally nodded.

“Got it,” she said, smiling.

“Good girl.” She turned to look at herself in the mirror, “Now, sex is different of course.”

Sally was aware that Brittany had several sexual partners. In fact, everyone in school was. It didn’t bother her, but they needed to meet in the bathroom, something about both of her reputations being in jeopardy if anyone saw them together. Such as high school goes.

“Of course,” Sally answered. “Of course.”

“Sal?!” David yelled, bringing her out of the trancelike state she found herself in and making her realize she had been staring right at Boy George’s face the whole time.

“Yeah?!”

“I think I see Said’s car turning the corner!” in a moment, Sally nearly jumped over the perfectly made bed (with her favorite bedsheets from home, which she insisted in bringing), and ran out of the room, nearly slipping on her socks before the promised land could be reached.

“Woah, there!” David said, catching her at the nick of time, looking into her eyes “Be careful, kid!”

“Got it!” she said, nearly pushing him away, running the remaining distance and opening the door with such gusto David had been certain it might come off of its hinges.

“Hey Said!” Sally began, all smiles, trying to still her ponytail as much as she could, before taking a glance at the woman leaving the shiny silver car, amidst the illuminated trees. On first glance, all was well – Susan hadn’t forgotten her scarf or purse, like she usually did, being so forgetful. Her hair was in place, her clothes were as if they had been put on at that same minute and her countenance seemed serene. But there was something wrong.

Her sister’s face twitched into a smile.

“Hello, Sal,” she said, and the words were so odd coming out, as if it was the first time they were being said. Sally instinctively stepped back “How are you doing?”

“I’m… fine.”

“I didn’t know you’d arrive today.”

“Yeah. My plane, uh, landed three hours ago. David came to pick me up at the airport.”

“Oh, did he? I must thank him.” Sally observed as her sister seemingly drank in the environment she was in – the other houses, perfectly aligned and white, the lawns, the sidewalk, her own well-manicured hands (Susan was always great at painting nails, while Sally was a poor slob). She looked past her, at the blue door, the living room and David, also standing by the door.

“Said?” Sally asked, finally, but not without some reserve, uncharacteristic to her. Susan looked over.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” her face twitched into a smile again.

“Of course,” Susan answered and closed the door of the car with an exaggerated bang, which made both David and Sally step back a half inch. That went unnoticed by Said “I’m quite fine, just tired” were her next words.

“I can tell,” Sally answered, determined to seem well-humored in spite of it all. She took to the three steps in front of the house running, even if only in socks, towards her most beloved sister, before opening her arms and engulfing her into a hug. For being in heels, Susan was taller than her at the moment. Sally felt as if seized by a giant.

“You’re so cold!” she exclaimed, feeling her sister’s hand on her neck.

“Maybe you’re too warm; and you shrunk!” Susan joked with a chuckle. That was more like it. Good old Said.

“You’re cheating. I’m not wearing heels!”

“You could be, though, you are a woman now after all,” she smiled down at her, a smile that Sally, quite frankly, had never seen on her sister’s face. She looked into her eyes. Susan’s were blue, she being the only one amongst the three Elmer daughters that had been fortunate enough to inherit their mother’s eyes instead of the “dull brown” of their father’s. Sally hadn’t envied that per se, even though she had grown up hearing Susan get complimented over them. She thought blue eyes made a person look slightly off, maybe evil, which was somewhat of an unpopular opinion she rarely expressed. Her sister, however, wore hers well. It was impossible to accuse her eyes of not expressing anything, they were the very door to her most heartfelt emotions – they spoke when she was sad, they spoke when she was glad. There was nothing she could do to tame such an outburst. It was her very nature to be that way.

That night, however, Sally found her sister’s eyes to be the very cold she never envied.

“Let’s go inside,” Susan said, taking her sister’s arm into hers. She guided Sally there, but the latter made sure to look at the ground instead of Said’s eyes. Her sister’s black velvet heels glanced back at her. Were her stockings ripped? What happened?

“Hello David,” Susan said, breaking Sally’s trance. She was looking at her husband with a smile. “How have you been?” David chuckled, maybe put off by the way that Susan phrased the question. Why so formal all of a sudden?

“Well, I’ve been good! What about you? How’s Betty?”

“She’s wonderful,” was the simple answer. “Dinner?”

While Susan worked in the kitchen, going back and forth amongst the pans, Sally observed her from the couch. She was separated by the dining table and chairs, which made her feel safer. From what, she didn’t know. What she did know was that she should be helping – that’s what good sisters, women, and guests do, after all – but instead she preferred to watch. Almost as if perceiving the fact, however, Susan halted in the middle of the kitchen.

“Is everything okay, Sal?” she asked, not looking at her, but at the sink. Sally turned around fast, burying herself into the couch as if to say she had never known to look in the first place.

“Yeah, of course!” she answered, sounding as casual as possible, completing with “I’ mean, I’m here with you, duh!”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet?” Susan asked, dutifully resuming her activities. There wasn’t a hint of sweetness in her tone, though. It felt to Sally almost condescending, as if she was looking down on her for being a little girl.

“Uh, there are muffins in the cupboard,” Sally decided to say, even if to hear her own voice being echoed “David and I bought them on the way from the airport.”

“Yum,” was all the answer she got. The pans continued moving and the stove was lit up. After ten minutes of mindless television, Sally lifted her head to look over the cushion behind her head and found her sister looking straight at her.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Why don’t you set the table, hmm?”

“Sure.” Obediently, Sally turned the TV off and got up from the couch. She went straight for the lower cupboard, having been in the house before and knowing that her sister liked to keep things at reach. From the other side of the kitchen, Susan watched.

“How was your trip, Sal?”

“Good, thanks!”

“Are mom and dad quite alright?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.” Sally put the plain, white plates over the counter, with the shiny glass cups next.

“Hmm,” she hummed “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your graduation. Things were hectic.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. At least we get to see each other now.”

Susan smiled.

“Yes. At least that.” Sally carried the cups and plates over to the table and began to spread them out, when she spoke up again “You know what, I’ll take care of the rest; will you please tell David dinner’s ready?”

“Sure,” Sally said, turning around and going down the hallway. With each step, the typewriter keys banged louder. David was really going at it, Sally thought. Upon arrival, she knocked.

“Yeah?!” The muffled voice answered from the inside.

“Hi David, dinner’s ready!”

“Already? Said is getting quick!”

“Yeah,” Sally agreed, but not with much enthusiasm. She prepared herself to turn around, when a cold hand slowly closed upon her shoulder, each well-manicured finger leaving a different, subtle feeling.

“Is he coming out?” Susan’s voice sounded behind her, a velvety quality having been added to it. Had she walked there? Sally hadn’t heard a thing. She instinctively looked down at her sister’s heels.

“Yeah, I’m coming right out,” David’s muffled voice answered, his chair moving almost immediately afterwards.

“Good. Let’s go, Sal,” she said and steered her away from the door once more.

“Are you sure you are okay, Said?” Sally asked as they crossed the hallway back to the dining room with David’s door opening behind them. Susan smiled; her arm wrapped around her sister’s shoulder now.

“Of course, darling. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re… different.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, Sal, don’t be ridiculous,” Susan continued, changing her tone so fast that Sally’s eyes darted towards her face, mouth slightly ajar “I just had a rough night with Betty, that’s all, and I’m tired. I can’t wait to eat and go to bed!”

“Yeah… But these are the most words you said to me all night. I thought you’d be happy to see me!”

“Oh, I am happy to see you, silly!” she continued, animated, standing in front of her sister now. When Sally looked into her eyes, though, they were still cold “You’re my little sister, I am always happy to see you!”

“Aren’t we all?” David sounded behind them, making them turn their heads “Good little Sally,” he said, flicking her ponytail up. “Shall we eat? I’m starving!”

“Sure, I’ll serve,” Susan said, leaving with David. Sally stood there and looked upon the two of them.

—

Dinner went as all dinners with Said and David usually go. Susan seemed as she had always been: Lively, telling Sally not to talk to Brittany anymore:

“A girl like that is not good. I would know.”

Telling Sally she’s proud of her grades:

“She’s even smarter than Sandra and Sandra was smart! It’s no wonder she’s in early acceptance at—”

Telling Sally she should go to church more often:

“A good relationship with God is essential to all of us, remember that young lady,” but at once Sally noticed her cross was missing. When she pointed that out, Susan looked and stroked her empty collarbone.

“Oh no, I must have left it at Betty’s!” she said, “Oh, I was so afraid the baby might grip onto it and tear it that I had to remove it, you know how babies can be.” Sally drank her orange juice and looked down at her plate.

“You never take that thing off!” David said, his mouth slightly ajar “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, it was a gift from our grandma,” Sally clarified, looking at David “It has “immensurable sentimental value”. It was gifted to her right before she died.” Susan’s smile twitched.

“Yes, well, that is true, which is why I needed to make sure it wouldn’t break, of course,” she took her wine glass and sipped the content of it. Sally nodded. That made sense to her, of course.

“What is Betty’s baby name again? I don’t think you ever told me,” David asked next, finishing her orange juice. Susan finished drinking as well and looked over at him.

“Oh, I think it’s Kayla. Right, sis?” Sally asked, looking up. Susan smiled warmly at her, like a nice hug.

“Yes, of course, Kayla. Little Kay. She’s just two months old, but she’s getting so big.”

Huh.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it, Said,” David said, sounding genuine, or as genuine as someone could sound with food in their mouth. Sally could see her sister’s face contorting to that, that despicable display of speaking with one’s mouth full, even if in trace amounts – as if it was a great offense. That was also strange, of course. Said doesn’t usually care about that kind of thing.

“Yeah, great!” Sally decided to add and then immediately ask to be excused. When allowed, she bid her good nights, saying “I had a long trip and I want to get some rest,” before running for the refuge of her bedroom. Once the door was closed and she was “safe”, she allowed herself to think freely.

Betty’s baby’s name was not Kayla, it was Kimberly. It was not a difficult leap to be made and Susan was allegedly exhausted, but her sister would never make that mistake. Not Susan. Betty was too dear a friend.

Looking back upon the doorknob, Sally verified if the key was on the lock.

“Ok, Sal, this is ridiculous,” she thought to herself, but couldn’t help it. She turned it, at a torturous pace, as to not alert the rest of the house, and locked herself in.

–

When Sally opened her eyes again, she wasn’t in the guest room of the Brady house – She wasn’t engulfed in her favorite bedsheets from home or looking at Boy George’s face as she had been, once upon a time. In fact, she couldn’t see anything in front of her, other than the pale spot the moon seemed to illuminate, from over at the only window. The bricks around the place were gray and there were soft, white curtains being gently blown by the air current.

“Hello,” a male voice sounded behind her, making her jump for the second time in what seemed to be the most Sally had jumped in her life. Turning around, she was faced with a small man, almost her height, with soft looking brown hair. He had green eyes and a charming smile… With a touch of something else.

“Hello…” Sally began, her position indicating her mounting discomfort, one hand behind herself and one foot ready to go at any minute “Who are you?”

“Jonathan,” he introduced himself with a small bow “I’m a… Friend of your sister.”

“Said never mentioned you.” He faced away from her and gave a light chuckle.

“There’s a lot of things Said didn’t mention.”

“Sure…” was all Sally could think to say. Was this a dream? “Where are we?”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” he said, with some joviality on the “Oh,” which made his voice higher. His voice was interesting, Sally thought. It was almost soothing, but seemed like could go off and become loud at any moment. He had an interesting way of standing too, very straight and almost controlled “You’re Sally.”

“Yes… How do you know that?” Sally asked, but he simply smiled. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of her. Usually, Sally didn’t mind when a beautiful man paid attention to her, she wasn’t stupid to think that any of them were interested, and truthfully she didn’t know if she was interested in them. It was just a pastime. This time, however, she curiously wanted him to stop “Where are w—"

“I already said that isn’t important.” Sally took a step back at the answer, which sounded much more forceful than his words had before. They were at an impasse now, looking at one another “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Sally didn’t believe that for a second, that man was too strange.

“How do you know my sister?” She asked next, looking at his clothes for the first time “Are you… A priest?”

“Yes,” he began, amused, touching his collar reflexively “A servant of the Lord. No more, no less.”

“Oh, so you know Said from church?” he paused, his green eyes glistening and his smile growing ever so slightly.

“Something like that.” He approached her and Sally instinctively went backwards “I, however, am here for you Sally.”

“For me?”

“Yes,” he smiled “You are very similar to your sister, after all. Did you know that?” he asked, stopping his advances and prompting her to halt too “Except for the eyes, of course, but I feel like you know that. Your sister, she’s… Somewhere else now. Somewhere no one can quite reach. It’s far away. Even I have never been… But I know people who have.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sally asked and Jonathan laughed, making her shrink.

“You really are an ignorant little one. Tell me, did you notice anything strange with Said lately?”

“I’ve only come over from California yesterday or…” she paused, but he picked up.

“…Or was it today?” She couldn’t remember.

“Well, doesn’t matter,” Sally said, finally.

“No, it doesn’t. Time doesn’t mean much anyway. Your sister was stuck here once for a time, but she got out,” he smiled yet again “Oh, she got out alright.”

“I can’t imagine Said being in this kind of place,” Sally said, confident of it.

“You can’t imagine much of what your sister was actually like. She was good at pretending to be something she is not. Tell me, do you trust her?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Yes? Would you trust her even if her skin was a bit too cold or if she forgot her friend’s baby name? Would you trust her even if, against your better judgement, you felt threatened by her presence?” Sally couldn’t answer “Oh, little Sally,” he approached her again and this time she let him “You are still too young, too naïve. One day, you’ll figure it out. You’ll…”

“Sally?” David’s voice spoke through the walls of the strange place, interrupting the other man’s speech. Sally looked around.

“David?”

“Oh, David, David…!” Jonathan said, with scorn she wasn’t expecting, nearly supplicant. He looked at Sally “I must go now. Goodbye, little Sally.”

“Sally?” David slightly shook the young woman and was taken aback by how violently she was brought to her senses, as if terrified of something “Hey, hey, take it easy. Relax. We have breakfast, Said told me to wake you up before going to work,” he looked at her closely “Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yeah… I’m fine, though.”

“Good… Anyway, get up. Breakfast is getting cold,” he smiled at her and then went out of the room.

Sally got up and took a deep breath. It had been a dream, of course. How else could she have woken up in a stupid… Tower? Is that was it was? Definitely looked like one. Like Rapunzel’s, from the book she had when she was a little girl that Said used to read to her when she was nine. Even an unruly teenager has a soft spot for children. What did Jonathan mean by “Your sister is not what she seems” or whatever it was he said? She could only remember bits and parts now.

“Hi Sal,” another voice sounded from the door and she immediately raised her head. There, standing in full, long white nightgown and robe to match, was her sister Susan “Will you come eat?”

“Yeah, as I told David I’ll be right out.”

“David told me you had a bad dream.” Had he? Sally wondered. He was there five seconds ago.

“Yeah, but it’ll pass.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing a good breakfast can’t heal. Off you go, c’mon.” Obliging, Sally got up from bed and followed her sister.

The breakfast table was full. There was orange juice, what seemed to be more than a dozen fried eggs, a pile of bacon, fresh fruit, hashbrowns, waffles, and French toast.

“Wow, Said,” Sally couldn’t help but be shocked “When did you do all this?” Susan shrugged.

“I got up early, couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing this noise in the walls...”

“In the walls? When? What noise?” David asked, fast enough to sound like it was just one question, and Sally noticed, for the first time, that he had been diligently eating while they talked.

“Sounded like rats,” Susan said, simply shrugging “You know how they like to roam walls.”

“We never had rats in this house,” David said, looking at a fixed point of the table “However, I think the Johnsons said something about mice. I should get it checked, kill them while it’s time.”

“Oh, don’t!” Susan said, looking at her husband fixedly “They’re God’s creatures!”

“Rats?!” David interjected “Rats are not God’s creatures, honey. They’re a plague. You keep filling your head with that bible stuff and look at you now. No, we need to eradicate these rats, if there are any, which I’m not saying there aren’t” he raised his hands defensively, before resuming his eating “I’ll find someone to look at it for you and tell us definitely, how about that?” Susan didn’t answer, but stared instead.

“Great!” Sally did the talking, putting her hand on her sister’s arm and then removing it. Still cold. “That sounds great, David.”

“Yes. Great.”

“Good!” David said next, finishing his food and getting up “I’ll put this in the sink for you.” When he passed them by, he kissed his wife on the cheek. Susan smiled at him warmly, but Sally saw when she raised her hand and cleaned her cheek. “I’m off to work now. You two behave, will you?”

“Absolutely,” Susan said, still smiling. Sally smiled too. With a last wave, David closed the door behind him and made his way to the car that Sally stared at the previous night as if it was a demon. Now, she couldn’t fight the feeling arising in her chest: She wished Susan had never come back, as stupid as that sounded.

“So, it’s just us girls!” Susan said, smiling at her too “Now, you should eat. Sit down.” Sally did so, looking at her sister all the way to her chair, which she occupied “Care to talk about your dream, darling?”

“Oh, it was nothing.”

“I doubt that. You seem very pale.” Sally instinctively lifted a hand to her face while Susan put some eggs on her plate, “You can trust me, you know? I’m your sister,” Sally’s eyes immediately went to Susan. What did Jonathan say again?

“Yes, I know,” Sally began “I just don’t feel like talking about it.”

“That’s okay. Now, I need to go to church today. Will you be coming with me?”

“Uh, do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Ok then,” Sally said, serving herself of a portion of each thing that was at the table “Said, this is a lot of food. What are you gonna do with the rest?”

“Oh, I’ll pack it and bring over to church too. There’s always people there who need it.”

That seemed like a reasonable enough answer.

In a second, everything was over and Sally was leaving the table to change. She took a glance at Susan’s plate before that, though, and saw the eggs were untouched.

“You’re not gonna eat?” Susan looked down.

“Oh, where’s my head, of course!” Good old Said, Sally thought to herself, going from one foot to the other absently, always forgetting things. Always.

–

“Here we are,” Susan said, parking the car in front of the church. Sally looked over her sister’s body. Yep, it was the same as she remembered from her previous visits “Care to help me carry the boxes in there?”

“Yeah, sure.” They stepped out of the car and it was a second to open the trunk, get the boxes, cross the street and enter. The church was truly fuller than Sally had thought, but it was the weekend.

“Hello, hello!” Susan said to everyone. Sally didn’t know anyone there, so she fell behind. Everyone seemed to adore her sister, but that wasn’t really a surprise. Said was incredible, of course.

“I’ll carry some boxes over there!” she said, indicating what she had in hands with her head when Susan turned. Said nodded affirmatively and soon Sally was off to a nearby table.

Putting the box down, she turned her body back to find her sister, but the latter had disappeared.

“What the…?” Sally said.

“What’s wrong hon?” A woman with short, pitch black hair in a bob cut asked. Sally had not noticed her there. She was carrying a baby, wrapped in a pink towel “Wait, are you Said’s sister?”

“…Yes.”

“Oh, which one?! Sandra…? Sally…? Sally? Oh, Said told me all about you!” She was all smiles now, bouncing the baby up and down “She didn’t tell me she was back from her trip!”

“Trip? What trip?” The woman stopped now.

“Well, that trip that Said told me she and David would take, to celebrate their anniversary! Or something like that,” she didn’t seem sure, but continued anyway “She said it was gonna be a long one, that he was taking all of his weeks off; and then she’d be off to see her family. I had no idea you’d be coming over! Did you come back with her?”

“…Yeah, something like that. Are you by any chance Betty?”

“Yes!” Betty said, excited “She told you about me?”

“Oh yes, she did. She told me all about you. Congratulations on the baby!” Betty waved her hand.

“Oh please, this? She’s just the light of my life. Little Kimmie… I can’t wait for your sister to meet her. She was so excited for her arrival, just as much as me.” Sally went mute for a long second, looking at the baby being bounced up and down. The girl slept so peacefully; it was as if she never found a moment of chaos around her. Sally wondered what kinds of dreams must she be having?

“I’m so sorry, Betty,” she began again, with a tentative smile “Will you excuse me? My sister is somewhere around here, and I can’t find her…”

“Oh, darling, absolutely!” Betty, ever the best said, looking at the general direction of the other groups of people “Tell her when you find her that I said hi and that I am waiting for her to visit me! I’ll make blueberry muffins, her favorites!”

“I’ll tell her, thank you Betty. Goodbye!” Sally said, at once stepping away from the gentle woman and rushing, as much as she could in a church without attracting attention to herself, towards the backdoor. If Said wasn’t around the main hall, then she could only be at the back. With some difficulty she opened the old, wooden door. No one stopped her from entering, so she figured it was fine.

The back of the church was a simpler building. The walls were beige, quaint, and the lights were yellow. All were on at the moment Sally took her steps through the hallway.

“Said?” She asked the nothingness. There was no answer, so she decided to keep going “Saaaaid?” The hallway was echoing her footsteps back at her and the place, for being so beige, seemed almost endless. She could feel a certain brand of loneliness coming from the environment itself. How many priests had roamed this place, she wondered? How many nuns, how many boys and girls?

At the end, around the corner, she started to hear noises. They sounded wet, like someone was making out, hidden away from the world, like teenagers. Feebly, she tried:

“Said?” Her words barely left her lips. She kept going, silently this time, masquerading the sounds of her footsteps by gradually slowing her pace, until…

“Sally!” Susan said, at once separating from the man she had been kissing – or even more, considering the motion he made towards his pants – and moving closer to the wall “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, you’re not supposed to be here,” the man said, as if he was in any position of chastising her. Sally couldn’t believe it.

“You can’t imagine much of what your sister was actually like. She was good at pretending to be something she is not. Tell me, do you trust her?”

“I wanna go home.”

“Would you trust her even if her skin was a bit too cold or if she forgot her friend’s baby name?”

“Yes, of course,” Susan said, trying to smile at her, even if painfully. The man looked at her and, coldly, she said a simple “Leave.” As if under a spell, he obliged and went away, looking down and avoiding Sally’s face.

“Betty told me to tell you to say hi,” Sally decided to say, defiantly looking within her sister’s cold, dead eyes “She said she can’t wait for you to meet her baby.”

–

Before leaving, Susan did talk to Betty. All Sally did was stand by the church’s front door and observe them, watch as Said gushed over the child. Who was that woman? It wasn’t her sister, that’s for sure. Jonathan had said… Something about her sister being someplace far away. What the hell did he mean by that?

“Ok, all done,” Susan said, coming towards Sally “We can go now.” All Sally did was nod faintly and turn around, determined to get to the car as soon as possible. Once in, she looked only at the road while her sister dutifully drove, also just as focused, at least at the beginning.

“Sal, what you saw at the church…”

“Spare me,” Sally said “I can’t believe you are cheating on David. It isn’t even…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. It isn’t even sanitary,” instead of scolding, Sally got a laugh back. It seemed so out of place she abruptly turned her head to finally look at her sister. Susan had a wide smile on, with all of her teeth showing.

“Would you trust her even if, against your better judgement, you felt threatened by her presence?”

“Stop that, Said,” Sally began, but the woman kept laughing “Said!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Sal. Did your little friend Brittany teach you that sanitary talk? I bet. You two talked about sex all the time.”

“So what if we did? That’s none of your business!”

“Oh yes, why not? Don’t you trust your big sister?” She was still smiling when she turned to look at the road again “We’re almost home. I’m gonna drop you off and go do some grocery shopping.”

“I’m sure. It’s not like you lied before.”

“My life is no concern of yours, Sal. One day, you’ll be old enough to understand what it’s like to have a marriage like mine.” She pulled the handbrake and the sound startled Sally as much as anything else. “Go out now. I’ll talk to you later, darling.” Sally looked at her sister in mute indignation before resigning and opening the car door. With a last smile, Susan said “Goodbye, little Sally.”

“What did you c—” but at the moment she turned around, her sister had already turned the car back on and driven off.

—

Sally got through dinner somehow. Said did come back with groceries and right at the nick of time: David arrived with her and the two shared a passionate kiss together. When they were done, he seemed a little tired.

“Are you okay, David?” Sally asked, observing his countenance. He gave her a weak smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just couldn’t sleep properly last night. That’s all.” Susan looked from one to the other. Sally could tell that she was afraid anything would come out of her mouth, so she kept it shut and excused herself extra early. For one reason or another, David barely argued against that and she was off to bed.

Once the door was closed, she didn’t mind to hide the locking sound this time. She wanted Susan to hear it. Sally wasn’t a child; she knew infidelity was normal. However, she also thought her sister would never cheat on someone like David. He was the perfect man! She said so herself. I mean, she did, right?

“So, you and your boyfriend are getting pretty serious, right?” Sally asked, looking at Brittany doing her make up at the school mirror. They were extra early this time, to avoid a crowd. Last time they wanted to talk, people kept coming in and out and it wasn’t exactly the ideal scenario. She smiled before answering.

“Yeah. Billy and I are gonna move in together after graduation. He’s got a house behind his parents’ and etc. They’re loaded, but want nothing to do with him, etc. Obviously they want nothing to do with me either.”

“That sucks,” Sally said, but Brittany shrugged.

“It’s what it is, kid. Life’s never perfect.”

“Are you two gonna be okay together?” Brittany looked at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Sally adjusted her jacket and poufy hair a little in front of the mirror, even though she knew it would never stay that voluminous “You have no money together.”

“Oh, we’ll get by. What did I tell you, kid? Catch one and keep ‘em for life. That’s Billy and me. Never one without the other.”

“Hmm…” Sally said “My sister married young too, she was eighteen.”

“Nobody said anything about marrying, but go on,” Sally did.

“Well, she met her husband when they were both in High School. They seem like the perfect couple, but…”

“But?”

“Well…” Sally looked at her friend “One time she called me, Said did, I mean. And she was crying I guess. Something about David.”

“Did she tell you what it was?” Sally waved her head.

“No. It was the last time she ever even mentioned it. I think she regretted calling me. I wish I had the guts to ask what the hell it was all about.”

“Well, I think he was probably a dick to her. He probably didn’t turn out to be what she expected to be. Maybe he cheated. The usual story.”

“Not David,” Sally said, resolute. Brittany looked at her for a second, red lip liner in hand. Sally thought that, like that, she looked like a worse for wear Kelly Kapowski from Saved By The Bell. Like a Kelly Kapowski that had cigarettes burned onto her skin multiple times, but remained beautiful and incredible through gritted teeth.

“Suit yourself,” it was all Brittany said before turning back to the mirror and finishing her lips.

—

When she woke up back at the strange tower from last night, Sally wasn’t surprised. She looked around with little interest until Jonathan showed back up again.

“Sally,” he said, with that usual voice of his. She smiled at him briefly.

“Jonathan.”

“You’re back.

“Not on my own volition.”

“Oh, I’m sure not. You wouldn’t do that, of course.” Sally crossed her arms “How’s your sister?”

“She’s fine.”

“That’s not what I see.”

“What do you mean by see?” Jonathan lowered his head and smiled.

“I can see you. Your head, I mean. I know everything you know when I appear in your dreams. It’s a… Subconscious thing, of course. I’m not really here. Neither are you.”

“Where are you then?” Instead of from right in front of her, Sally heard the answer from right behind herself.

“Somewhere else…” he whispered in her ear, startling her. She rapidly turned around, but he was gone. In his place, there was a shadow of something else.

“What is that?” she asked, looking closer at the floor. There, a dead carcass of what seemed to have once been a rat was, inside a rat trap. She flew back immediately, in time to hear what seemed to be Jonathan cackling.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Sally asked, almost yelling now.

“Don’t you know, you ignorant little girl?” A third voice asked and Sally looked at its direction, by the illuminated window. There, a man in robes was sitting, his face bloody and mashed in, with an air of unsurmountable sadness “You’re just like your sister, oh…”

“What do you know about my sister?” She asked, approaching the man. He didn’t make a move at first, but upon further inspection, Sally realized he was waving his head.

“Unfortunately, I know all about your sister. I know all about what she and that man Jonathan did in this filthy room for two months, about their desire, their consummation, their screams of unbridled passion.”

“What?!” Sally’s face contorted in an ugly frown “You’re lying!”

“Am I?!” He asked, his voice going louder than she thought possible, making her instinctively raise her hands to her ears “Am I?! Wasn’t she doing the same back in the church today? Oh, dead people see it all, little girl. That Jonathan man… He wants you too. He can’t have your body in its physical form though, she won’t let him.”

“Who?!”

“Your sister! He has her body, he has it, but she’s still in there, in their collective head. Oh, she was supposed to be somewhere else. She was supposed to be in Hell!”

“Sally?” Susan asked, gently shaking her sister “Saaally…?” She asked again, singing the name like a siren’s song. When Sally bolted awake, she smiled “Good morning sleepyhead. David has gone off to work already so I came to wake you up. Have you slept well today?”

Sally did nothing but stare at first, before smiling.

“Yeah, I did. Do we have breakfast?”

—

While they ate, Sally took to observing Susan again. She was humming to herself while spreading some jam on her toast, before biting onto it so hard, the crunch of the bread almost made Sally cry. She didn’t realize she had been so on edge until her hands started trembling. She needed to keep it together. First of all, nothing indicated that her dream was true, after all how crazy was that? Just because her sister was cheating on her husband – who may or may not have been an asshole in the past – does not mean that she is possessed by a former lover. That doesn’t make any sense!

“Darling?” Susan asked, looking at Sally’s plate “You have to eat.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sally answered “Right,” but she couldn’t bring herself to “Hey, can I borrow your car?”

“What for?” Sally smiled.

“I wanted to go to church,” Susan smiled at her as well.

“Sure. The keys are in the bowl, but you’re not leaving without eating.”

“Ok, fine,” Sally said, a semblance of normalcy seeping through as she devoured the eggs and drank the orange juice “Satisfied?”

Looking at her, more like leering, Susan smiled.

“Very.”

—

Sally did go to church at first. There, she stood alone, looking at the stained glass windows, the figures of the Lord, at Jesus Christ on the cross. She prayed for the first time in five years and cried to what seemed to be no one. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing what she was doing. What the hell was wrong with her? If she did everything her dreams told her to do, she would have kissed Brittany and told her not to go with Billy, to stay with her. That would have been a bad choice, wouldn’t it? Should she call Brittany now? Would she know what to do? She had before. She always knew what to do. Saint Brittany.

“Saint Said.” She remembered David saying. This was all wrong. He was suspicious of her; Sally knew that now. He had to have known she hadn’t been seeing Betty, that she had been seeing him. Jonathan. She wondered if David even knew Jonathan.

“Miss?” A male voice asked and she turned around. It was a small, old priest, with a kind face. She immediately smiled, but regretted it. She hated priests “May I help you?”

“Oh, no. I’m just… I’ll be right out,” he nodded his frail head and started to turn, when she gathered enough courage to ask “Hey, do you know a priest by the name of Jonathan?” he seemed to stop.

“Jonathan you say?”

“Yeah…”

“Yes. I know a priest by the name of Jonathan, or knew, rather.”

“Do you know what happened to him?” He looked pensive for a second, less confused about the events, but more pondering whether or not he should share them with the young woman in front of him.

“He went up to the tower of a Church a ways from here and took his own life. He had to do so; He had been excommunicated. They found some… Reprehensible things he had been involved in. It’s not really a subject to share with a woman as young as you…” but as he turned to leave, Sally stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Please. I have to know, it’s… Important.” The priest looked up at her.

“What do you want with this information, miss? Wait a minute dearie, aren’t you Susan’s little sister, Sally?” He looked at her closely “Yes, I am recognizing you now. So similar to her except… Yes, her eyes are blue.” He paused, his expression turning to a resigned one as the small priest decided to tell her everything, in light of the new information, perhaps out of pity “He… He had taken a lover somewhere,” he gesticulated vaguely, slowly, gripped by the immobility of old age “I don’t surely recall. She ended in a mental asylum. They also found another one, but she was already in a much better place. He had left her in a deplorable situation, some said “lying in her own blood.” I don’t really recall…”

“Where is this Church you mentioned?” Sally asked, interrupting in a manner that would have seem rude, if not urgent now.

—

Sally took to her car and drove as fast as she could. It wasn’t really a far away drive. The place stood in a town a few minutes from the one they were in now, more deserted too. There were no people on the streets as she slowly drove up to the only church. By the color of the bricks, it looked like the one from her dream alright. The priest told her only one person was at the church at this time, an old woman who took care of the place.

Sally parked and got out of the car at lightning speed, knocking at the door mere ten seconds after getting out of the car. Minutes later, a face emerged. It was probably the old lady that he had mentioned, her hair and make up matched the description she inquired on.

“What are you… Oh. I’m sorry, you’re not her,” the old lady looked at her from top to bottom “Yes. You are certainly not.”

“Hi, I’m Sally,” she said, still breathing with some difficulty, from the running she had done, ignoring the strange introduction, “I’m Susan Brady’s sister.”

“Oh, I see. Her sister.” The old lady snickered “He’s dead, you know? He can’t keep bringing people in like this. It was unethical in life and it’s even more now in death,” she motioned to close the door, but Sally desperately held it open.

“Please, I have to come in. Please,” she supplicated. The old lady looked at her.

“Did he do it to you too?” she asked. Sally couldn’t understand.

“What?” The old lady, however, refrained from answering. Instead, she gave out this cryptic comment:

“You and your sister truly are alike.” Sally stared at her, mute. The old lady stepped away “Go in. It’s all the way upstairs. I’m hoping to not hear anything strange coming from the walls, other than the rats.” Sally, who was going in, stopped.

“The rats?” She asked and the older woman, closing the door, nodded.

“Yes. There were rats in the walls. Curiously, I haven’t been hearing them lately.”

Sally couldn’t hear anything, but Said could. She was hearing rats in the walls.

“They’re God’s creatures…” Sally murmured to herself, like her sister had done before.

“What was that?” the old lady asked, standing with her hands over her stomach, very proper.

“Nothing!” Sally said and took to the stairs “Thank you, I won’t be here long!” once she was gone, the old lady walked towards the vase nearby.

“That’s what the other one said too. They always end up staying too long in that place. Long enough for the worm to get them… That vermin,” she looked up in time to see the door closing and locking. With a snicker, she finished “They never learn.”

—

The tower was illuminated this time and she could see everything. Sally looked around herself and observed the window, the bed, the empty space and the chair, standing at a strange point of the room. The priest had said he killed himself. Had he jumped from there?

Sally took to the bedroom. All there was, upon first glance, was the bed. It was made perfectly, and Sally suspected the old lady had something to do with it. Looking to the side, however, there was a table full of books. She assumed they belonged to the deceased. Why they were still there was the mystery. Maybe the old lady had a soft spot for Jonathan as well? That would make sense. Sally twisted her face into an ugly frown again. Ugh. He was quite the ladies man, huh?

Shaking her head, she started reading the titles and saw that the one time priest had an obsession with the occult. All of these were about demonic encounters, seals to summon specific demons, what they did and etc. She was surprised he hadn’t been thrown out sooner. Had no one stopped to read what he was researching.

“Sally, you’re here!” A female voice sounded behind her, strikingly familiar to her ears – so much so that she turned around at once – but there was nothing there.

She must be going insane.

“…Susan?” She asked the empty room, rubbing her forearm and immediately regretting it “God, what the hell is wrong with me?” was the next question, followed by quite a loud kick to the table, which shook everything on top of it, from candlesticks to books. She was dreaming of real dead clergymen she had never met, dreaming of also dead rats and now she was hearing voices which could only belong to her sister, who was supposedly at her house, far away. What had become of her life? She wondered, madly, if any boys would still like her if she was insane. She also wondered if Brittany would, back at home, with her boyfriend.

“Sally!” The voice sounded again, but this time behind her. Closing her eyes, as if to wish it away, she realized there was nothing she could truly do. She would either leave now, which was inherently unsatisfying, or she would turn around and see if there really was someone behind her. It was that or the mental hospital. Come to think of it, maybe it was the mental hospital anyway.

Slowly, but surely, Sally turned. There, in full display, was a pale reproduction of her sister Said, in her full glory. She was wearing the same clothes she wore on the first day Sally came to her house, the black skirt and white blouse. The scarf was nowhere to be seen, however, and around Susan’s neck, Sally noticed, were grotesque rope marks.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” Susan said and took to hugging her little sister, for the first time in a long time. Sally was shocked that she could even feel her. Ghosts weren’t supposed to be huggable. Right?

“Susan, what is going on?” Was all the thoughts that Sally could voice right now. When they broke off the hug, they locked eyes and she could finally see the emotion back into her sister’s blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sally. It’s so horrible, I can’t…” She looked away briefly and then went back to her face, with a smile “I’m so glad you’re here,” she repeated, but continued “I kind of wish you weren’t though. This is no place for you. How did you even find it?”

“This priest at church told me that Jonathan lived here before he killed himself. He told me you and him…” Susan closed her eyes.

“Let’s not talk about Jonathan. I wanna talk about you. How are you?”

“We don’t have time! Look, this might sound insane, although I’m not sure how much more insane than that you are here right now when you were supposed to be home, but I think Jonathan has your body,” Sally looked at the pale semblance of her sister and wanted to cry “I think you’re still in there with him too. I think you’re not all here. This man in my dream told me something about that. He had this completely fucked up face…”

“Oh my God,” Susan said and stepped away from her sister, looking at a fixed point “Yeah, I remember…” when Sally looked too, she saw her sister’s glance was upon the chair “I… I killed myself, Sally.”

“No!” Sally said, covering her mouth with her hands “No, it can’t be! You’re here!” But Susan confirmed the fact with a nod.

“I was so foolish.” She raised her eyes “I thought that he loved me, I genuinely thought that he loved me. Oh, it was all a mess with David. I thought he was seeing someone else. When I confronted him, he threatened to leave me destitute and then did even worse…” She shook her head and lowered her eyes “When I… When I met Jonathan, I didn’t know anything about him other than he was kind. At least I thought so, at the beginning. He was working at our church, but slept here. I wondered why he drove so far every day for work, but then he told me it was because of me – that he had seen me with David, that he needed to have me. It all went wrong from there. He apparently had these other lovers… I was just the next casualty. And there was this rat…”

“Yes!” Sally said, approaching her sister eagerly “I saw the rat! He had a weird appearance and he was dead. The rat was dead!”

“I remember that!” Susan said, agreeing frantically with her head “The rat was caught in this mouse trap and…! And I saw it bleed out!”

“Can you leave this place?” Sally asked next, but Susan adamantly waved her head.

“No. I tried.” Sally instinctively looked over at the table.

“Maybe one of these books can help us,” she ran towards the skewed contents of the once kicked piece of furniture and picked the nearest one. Luckily, it seemed to be the most worn “Wow, Jonathan liked to highlight his books, Jesus.” Pages and pages of the book had words circled or crossed or writing, on the margins. Susan stopped by her sister’s side and raised her hand to her neck reflexively. She was still wearing the cross grandma had given her as a ghost.

“Well, I don’t know if you should mess with these things, Sal…” Susan said, sounding unsure “I think you should go back to mom and dad. That’s what you should do.”

“Absolutely not!” Sally exclaimed, indignant “I came all the way here for you, I am not going to turn back now, I want to see Jonathan dead in his grave forever!” She read the contents of the book now “This seems to be what he did to summon the rat. Here.” She showed it to Said, who intently read “It states that you need to bring a certain amount of sacrifices to this specific demon, you see? He brought the designated amount for sure… But the rat’s dead, or rather the physical form of the demon. He died in the middle of taking the last one, which means that it was never fully completed in the first place!”

“But how does that help us?”

“Well, if your soul is still inside of your body and Jonathan is also there, that means that you’re in half, just like I thought, but… It means Jonathan is also in half.”

“Aren’t you a clever girl?” A male voice echoed through the tower. In a second, Sally saw Susan’s remaining spirit had vanished, and Jonathan, the clergyman, was beside her where she once had stood.

At once, Sally closed the book and stepped away from the now snickering man “Oh, Sally, Sally, Sally…” he took a step towards her, then another… “You are so alike your sister. You can’t stop yourself from digging, can you?”

“Go fuck yourself, Jonathan!” Sally said, backing away towards the wall. He couldn’t help but cackle that stupid laugh of his. Sally had enough “I’m getting my sister back.”

“I don’t think so. You know, I loved your sister,” he said, close enough now to put an arm over her head and his face close to hers “I did,” he was whispering now, inside her ear “I loved her body, that is why I took it for myself. You are so alike her, but… Smarter. Younger. Fresher.” He then did something she could have never foreseen: Slowly and delectably he licked her cheek from jaw to eyebrow. Sally pushed him away from her, but all he did was laugh “Run little Sally! Save your sister! You could never have saved your brother in law!” that made her turn.

“What did you do to David?”

“Oh…” He paused and walked towards her, stopping half-way there “Did you really think he had gone off to work earlier that morning?” Jonathan waved his head “Oh, he was dead, right there in his office. You went right by it and never noticed it.” Shocked and muted yet again by the horror, Sally could only step away and run out of the tower as fast as she could, darting down the stairs. Even at the door, she could still hear the cackle in her ears.

“Gone so soon?” The old lady asked, but all Sally could do was nod, before crossing the threshold towards the parked vehicle. Behind her, the old lady uttered a measly “hmpf,” before closing the door.

—

When Sally parked the car outside of the house, night had already fallen. She turned her head to look at the house, illuminated only by the lampposts. David car was still parked at the garage and she cursed herself for not having looked before taking off that morning. She wondered if Jonathan was telling the truth, but it was useless. He obviously was.

She opened the door and stepped outside, closing it with moderate strength. She didn’t want to alert the neighbors, but she didn’t care if Said, or whatever the hell was in her body, heard her coming. She hoped it did.

Taking to the trunk, Sally stuck the key in the hole and popped it open. There, she brought out a brand new axe. She couldn’t bring herself to get a gun, she didn’t even know why she had that now. It seemed like a stupid precaution. She was not, in any sense, going to axe her sister. Still, she took it with her after closing the trunk and with a deep breath, she faced the house.

—

Inside, it was dark, as if no one was home. She opened the door, which was unlocked, and entered with ease, closing it back up. She looked at the kitchen, the living and dining rooms, and at the hallway, finally. Darkness there and nothing more.

“Said?” Sally asked.

“I’m here, Sally,” her voice came from David’s office. Soon, the door opened and a single light could be seen, yellow in tone “Come.” She started walking, wondering how she could have ever thought that was her sister. She couldn’t distinguish her cadence between that of Jonathan’s now – it was the same, through and through.

Sally wondered what she would see in that office, getting closer with each step. She wanted nothing more to end Jonathan, but she was still apprehensive. What did he do to David? Goddammit… Why was this fucking happening to her? She called upon God again for any help. She didn’t know if he could hear her, but she hoped so. The Devil was there, after all. Why not God?

When she finally reached the door, the first thing she saw was Said, sitting on the chair, smiling at her. Then, beneath her, she noticed the body of David, head bent away from her. His wrists had been slashed and there was blood all over the floor, in puddles.

“Oh my God!”

“Hello, little sister,” Susan said, waving a hand full of blood “I wondered if you were going to come back.” She looked down and pointed with her head at the axe “What’s that you got?”

“Can’t you see it? Are you blind now, or what?” Susan’s smile faded.

“That is no way to talk to your sister!”

“Oh, but you’re not my sister,” Sally stepped into the room, confident now in her words and stride, gripping the axe with force “I went to see you, at the tower – or whatever was left of you, Jonathan.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about. Who’s Jonathan?”

“Oh, cut the bullshit!” she said, clenching her free fist “I know it’s you in there, Jonathan and not Susan – Or at least not all of her. Did you know that you’re not full? Did you even notice? Or were you incomplete your entire life, so it didn’t matter?” Susan got up from her chair, a frown in place of the usual smile, and approached her sister, who jumped back, axe ready to strike. At that, she halted.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Jonathan asked. It was him, through and through. Even if the body belonged to someone else.

“Your despicable familiar, that’s what I’m talking about! He died before bringing Said’s soul to Hell, or whatever the hell! She’s still in there with you.”

“That is impossible!”

“Oh, it’s not!” Sally said “I read your stupid book. You should have taken better care of that freakish rat, might have done you some good!” In a fit of rage, Jonathan darted towards Sally and immediately went for her hair, now loose, trying to grip it. Being faster, she dodged and managed to run away towards the kitchen, with him in her tail.

“Come back here, Sally!” He screamed, “Come back, you bitch!” She turned around to face him from the other side of the counter, where they came to an impasse. They shared a look “Oh, Sally, Sally… You might have read a book, but I’ve read thousands. What are you gonna do, huh? Save your sister?” he snickered, looking more and more like the deceased and less and less like Said “She’s dead! She’s dead!”

“So were you and now look at where we are!”

“Give it up, Sally!”

“Never!” she approached her face to his and said, in a low whisper “You’re gonna go down, little man.” With the small, paused reaction that caused, Sally ran around him, going towards the hallway and straight for the master bedroom.

“NO!!” she heard behind herself, but she was too fast to care about it at this point. At once, she closed the door and locked it, being almost immediately greeted with angry fists begging to be let in, making her back away fast “SALLY!! SALLY!!”

“You’re gonna wake the fucking neighbors, Said!” Sally yelled back as the doorknob was frantically assaulted. She didn’t have time for that. Doing an about face, she examined the walls and the floor closely “Now, if I were a nest of rats, where would I be?”

“SALLY!”

“SHUT UP!!” Sally yelled back “I’m trying to think!” she looked down at the floor. She knew what she had to do. According to the book, Sally needed to destroy any remnants of the familiar there might be. Rats proliferate rather quickly – as a matter of fact, so quickly that anyone would have a rat problem in no time – especially with a demon rat running around like that.

So, Sally took to swinging. First, she tried the walls, which crumbled easily. There was no success to be had there, as she came up mostly empty handed and buried in dust.

“Hope that wasn’t a foundational wall…” she whispered to herself and fixated upon the bed “Wait a minute!” she dropped the axe for a second and used all her might to pull one of the poles away. Surprisingly, the frame wasn’t that heavy, and the years of softball paid off in an immense way. In no time, the bed was out and she could see the scratches, even from the surface “Gotcha.”

“You bitch!” the voice on the other side still yelled, almost sobbed “Oh, I’ll get you for this Sally Elmer! I’ll fucking get you if it’s the last thing I do!” Sally paid no attention to him. He was bitter because he had lost. He had never lost so bad, after all.

She bent down and took the axe in hands, swinging at the floor full force. Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of rats. She swung again and it became louder. The screeching was deafening enough to drive anyone mad, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t doing this for herself, but for Said, for her big sister. That was enough.

At once, she was done. No rats were felt at her feet though, which was strange. When she finally opened her eyes to look at the masterpiece, Sally observed the black hole on the floor. There was… Nothing?

A laugh started at the other side of the door, becoming louder.

“What…? There were supposed to be…” Then she had an idea. Bending over, Sally looked within the hole and, gathering all of her courage, stuck her hand inside. Feeling the darkness, she quickly found what she was looking for and pulled it out.

It was the body of Jonathan’s near lifeless familiar.

He hadn’t procreated, he was barely alive.

“You… Bitch… You whore…” he said, amidst blood gushing out. His throat was barely there.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Are you?”

“Let me in, Sally!” Jonathan said, suddenly desperate again “Let me in and I promise you I’ll love you. I promise I’ll cherish you; I’ll adore you; I’ll fuck you with all my might, every day.” Sally contorted her face in disgust.

“Ew! I don’t think so,” she said and, throwing the rat on the floor, promptly stepped on him, ending his misery and hers.

—

The tower had become cold, or at least the wind indicated so. I couldn’t feel anything in the state I was in at that time. All I could do was sit down and watch the old lady tidy Jonathan’s things up day by day, like a sanctuary. I wondered what she’d think if she knew I was there. Most of the time, though, I wasn’t. I looked through the window and recalled the moments of passion I had spent there with him. It wasn’t worth it, in the end, even if I thought Jonathan was perfect.

When Sally came and went, I thought that I had a chance. I saw her leave and my heart sunk, as much as it could. I didn’t want my little sister to die. I sat in that tower for what seemed like an infinite amount of time – not that before it hadn’t, but it seemed even worse, as if the hours were dragging themselves, behaving like years. Goddammit! Goddammit…!

—

Sally opened the door in a hurry.

“Said?!” She asked, kneeling down to cradle her sister in her arms. She was not responding “Said!! Goddammit, Said, wake up! God…!” she looked up at the ceiling reflexively and then at the dead rat, to make sure. Maybe he was still…? But no. He had turned to mush at this point.

Maybe there was no hope. Maybe Jonathan had fucking won, maybe not the way he wanted to, but the way he could. Maybe he dragged Said to hell with him, leaving her the mess to fix, the dead body in the office, her poor sister…

“S… Sally?” Susan’s voice said, strained, and Sally looked down immediately “What? Where…?”

“Said?!” She exclaimed and hugged her “Oh my God, Said!” she raised her head back again and looked into her sister’s eyes. Yeah, it was definitely her “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alive!”

“Yeah, me too…” Said looked at the master bedroom “What did you do…?” Sally looked back too.

“Oh, I had to do some digging for a stupid rat.”

“Oh…” She looked up at her sister “And David?” Sally’s countenance changed.

“He’s… He’s dead. I’m sorry. Jonathan drove him to suicide as well. I think it was his… Way of doing things.”

“Oh, God…” Susan said, closing her eyes in pain “Will you help me get up?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Together, the two grunted as they made their way from the floor to their usual heights, now completely equal once again. They looked at the mess they were in “It’s not ideal…”

“No, but we’ll figure it out,” Susan said, sounding confident, positive, more than Sally has ever seen her being. She turned to her sister “Thank you so much, Sally. Thank you!” As the sisters embraced again, the rat bled onto the floor and Jonathan, the Evil Clergyman, would never be back again.

He was finally at his final resting place.

[serve-cunt]

HELLOOOOOOO IT IS I, CONFUSED AND BEFUDDLED NEW TENNIS FAN ANON, BACK AGAIN WITH MORE QUESTIONSSSSS

however this time I am a fair bit LESS confused and befuddled because that was a WONDERFUL explanation of everything I asked, thank you so much zoe you are literally the loml this helped so much

so what I have deduced is that the next grand slam tournament is the French open (muddy one lmao) which sounds SO fun and cool and I will be watching

more questions if you do not mind (i am sorry)

how much does grass/clay/hard court affect play??? Is it like a MASSIVE difference???

you mentioned a thing called Break Point in the fic which I thought was a made up tennis equivalent of drive to survive but APPARENTLY IT IS REAL AND EXISTS, so should I watch that????

how does the scoring work? I know the basic concept is bonkity bonk hit ball back and forth and try to make it touch the ground in your opponent's court, but I think it's like points within sets within games within matches???? am i right or do I have the order fucked up (I probably do) and what are the details of all that????

is there a lot of bias towards men's tennis vs women's? Obviously there are almost no girls in f1 ever and I know a lot of sports like football have HEAVY bias towards men, is tennis like that? I feel like not as much because it seems like I hear just as much about players like the Williams sister and naomi osaka as I hear about people like Roger Federer and Andy Murray? is that true?

who are the top 5-10 players in the world rn? who's number one? and like pls point me to somewhere where I can find a very basic fact file of sorts on each of them, I need to know who's the lewis and max and sebastian of tennis....

what's the next big-ish tournament in the next few weeks ish that you think I'd be able to handle??? like an atp 250 or 500 or smtj??? bc I wanna start Watching but the French open is SO far away

gimme a few basic facts on each of your favourite players because im sure you will appreciate the opportunity to infodump about your faves just as much as I will appreciate the introduction :))))

any good tennis movie recs? I've seen that thing with will Smith about the Williams and that was SO GOOD it was ages ago that I saw it though so I remember nothing lmao

obviously feel free to drop in random facts or anything or WHATEVER, I WANT TO KNOW ALL OF THE THINGIES

i think that is most of my questions???? how are you??? how is life??? i hope you know how much I appreciate you because you are SAVING MY LIFE here, it is now time to go stalk those other blogs you recommended....BYEEEEE ZOE ILYYY <3

HELLO AGAINNNN back for more 😈😈😈 this is how people get HOOKED .. the way I rubbed my little goblin hands together to start typing up an answer to all of this LMAOO ok here we go …

"how does grass/clay/hard court affect play"

a LOT! in simplest terms, different surfaces change how a ball bounces. but that has a huge impact on the play: clay is the slowest surface, because it's kind of grippy so the ball loses momentum. that's good if you like to stay at the baseline, be patient, and wait for somebody to make a mistake (which is why I gave that surface to Oscar lol). Grass is fastest because it's a slick surface (no grip) but it's unpredictable because it will be more uneven & different courts will feel very different. another issue w/ the season being short! but if you're a quick learner and you like to play close to the net, grass is for you. Hard court is like. "neutral" surface. it's the most common so everybody knows how to play it! you'll often hear players talk about different hard-court tournaments being "slower" or "faster", generally what they're talking about is the specific surface material, which is the cushion over the concrete that can vary in terms of bounce & grippiness.

"should I watch Break Point"

hahahahahahahahhahahahahahahha. oh no!! idk ….. I really don't like Break Point, I think it's a failed attempt to bring the success of DtS to tennis .. but idk, maybe watching BP as a newbie is helpful?? you will at least start to recognize some names which might be fun?? but yeah it's not as good of an entry point to how the sport is played (imo) and because tennis doesn't have the contained cast of characters that f1 has it doesn't actually help you THAT much with recognizing players on the courts, lmao. also certain episodes made me hate certain players ... looking at you episode about the american men ... taylor fritz my enemy ...

but!! it might help you to pick a few faves based purely on vibes hehe

"how does the scoring work?"

akdjfhalksdjfhakjh how DOES the scoring work … great q … no jk it's actually not too bad you just have to let it settle into your brain lol!! okay so:

within a GAME:

players start at zero, or "love". Why "love"?? who knows!! but here we are. then scoring proceeds through: 15, 30, 40. why?? WHO KNOWWWSSSS

you HAVE to win a game by two points. if you're ahead 40-30 and you win the next point, you win the game. HOWEVER, if the game is tied at 40-40, you are at "deuce", and you have to win TWO points in order to win the game. if you win one point you have advantage: that will look like "A-40" on most scoreboards. if your opponent wins the next point you lose the advantage and you drop back to deuce. so a score could look like this over the course of 6 points:

40-40 — you win a point -> A-40 — they win a point -> 40-40 — you win a point -> A-40 — they win a point -> 40-40 — you win a point -> A-40 — you win another point! -> game!

did that help or did it make everything MORE confusing?

within a SET:

so you won your first game! the set is now 1 game to zero, or 1-0. Time to play the second game. Oh no!! your opponent is serving for this game and they won it, the set is tied 1-1. No worries -- your turn to serve again. You hold your serve! 2-1. Ah shoot, so do they. 2-2. Okay, great, you hold again. 3-2. oh my god you BREAK THEIR SERVE!!!! 4-2 BAYBEEE!!! and you hold again! 5-2! they hold: 5-3. okay moment of truth ….. YOU HOLD SERVE AND WIN THE SET 6-3 GOOD JOB YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE !!!! <3

you also have to win a set by two games. remember this rule! win by two is the tennis mantra. if a set is tied at 6 games all, it's time for a tie-breaker, and you have to win the tie-breaker by two points. (mostly you play a tie-breaker to 7 points, but this can vary by tournament)

within a MATCH:

you won your first set!! great job your mom is so proud. however. you aren't done yet!! usually you are playing best of three sets, so you still need to win one more set. in Grand Slams if you are a man you are playing best of five, so you need to win TWO more. um. GOOD LUCK!! Here's what a score line might look like:

^You can read that as Bertens being up a set, so the match is currently in the second set, which is currently tied at 1 game all. Venus is serving (that's what that dot by the numbers means) but Bertens is up 2 points. (lmao. 30-love = 2 points up. I apologize for tennis)

omg you lost a set. NO WORRIES YOU CAN COME BACK. best of three: I believe in you <3

"Is there a lot of bias towards men's tennis"

do you even need to ask 🥲🥲🥲 yes unforch. men consistently get the best broadcasting time-slots on tv, they often get more prize money, and they generally have more name recognition. however!! I think tennis has benefitted from some amazing personalities in women's tennis -- the Williams sisters of course, now coco gauff -- and the prize money sitch is improving for sure. there's hope!! but yeah -- it's a scheduling feedback loop!! give the women better tv times and more eyes will be on their matches!! ajdhflakh it's so frustrating to watch tbh!!! anyway.

"who are the top players and how do i find that"

Here are the ATP singles rankings and here are the WTA singles rankings! If you click on each name you will see their official stats page :))

"what's the next big-ish tournament"

here's the list of upcoming ATP tournaments and here's the list of upcoming WTA tournaments - there are some upcoming small-ish tournaments that look fun (atp in rio, wta in dubai) and then … THEN!! Indian Wells :D :D

I'm an Indian Wells DEVOTEE ,, the players really like it, the vibes are so good, celebrities come out from LA, everyone has a nice time, it's SO FUN. all the hype & fun of a slam with slightly lower stakes

"tell me about your favorite players"

HAPPILY OMG.

jannik sinner: part of the "next gen men" wave that includes carlos alcaraz, loooooong of leg, skinny of limb, floofy of hair!! methodical and hard to shake, emotionally and mentally, beautiful clean and powerful play. also !! just!!! seems like a good guy!! def a "class pet" on tumblr lmao (thank you @advantage-sinner )

carlos alcaraz: part of the "next gen men" wave that includes jannik sinner, a phenom, natural talent, all-round player, people are predicting great things for him -- he plays gorgeous, interesting, creative tennis and he has FUN DOING IT, really a joy to watch. the 2023 wimbledon final between him and djokovic (our local villain, but an all-time great in men's tennis) was an incredible, amazing, show-stopping match that he WON and I will remember that day forever and ever and ever amen

coco gauff: crazy athletic, big hitter, hit the scene young, super charismatic on and off court, just very fun to watch

iga sviatek: gorgeous gorgeous player, aggressive as heck, quick as heck, loves clay, loves to put spin on the ball, SUCH A WEIRDO I LOVE HERRRRR she likes lego and she reads a lot, she's such a funny little introvert who happens to be #1 in the world LOL

daniil medvedev: stands so far away from the baseline to return serve he's often out of camera frame. he's so tall and his limbs are just … everywhere … andrey rublev (another fave) calls him "the octopus" … he has the BEST INTERVIEWS HE'S SO FUNNYYYY AHHH

ons jabeur: "minister of happiness" except that lately .. she has not been super happy … she wants to win a slam SO BAD my heart hurts for her … when she's on she's a lovely lovely player, very creative, but when she's off she's hard to watch, just a lot of unforced errors (which is an error that is your own fault, vs an error that you make because your opponent hit a ball that was hard to get to or technically very tricky to return)

I have the occasional emotional fling with andrey rublev (hehe sad wet dog), karolina muchova ( :( sad wet cat), daria kasatkina (…sit on me), caspar ruud (…SIT ON ME), and alex de minaur (cute!!!)

I literally have no tennis movie recs I can't think of a single one BUTTTTTTTT Challengers comes out this year 😈 mike faist my beloved… zendaya in tennis whites ...

I can't believe how many words you let me spew at you @ivystennis and then ASKED FOR MOREEEE I LOVE YOU thanks for "coming out" as it were lmaooooo.

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song of the Day Day 41: Feel Good by Gibbz ft. Russ Liquid

I'm having trouble writing because I'm having trouble deciding what's worth saying. What is there to say that hasn't been said already. I'm but one monkey with a typewriter, cut me some slack.

I've been thinking about taste, and recommendations, and what the music we like says about us. I've been thinking about arrogance, and cruelty, and a little bit about No True Scotsman fallacies, too. I just. I don't know. What is "good" music and why are so many people fans of "bad" music.

I don't think bad music even exists, at least not really. I think music like any medium has so many competing and often contradictory delivery methods, goals, audiences, and interpretations that a categorical verdict like that is, frankly, Quixotic. I think about things like Throbbing Gristle and Clown Core, like Taylor Swift and Imagine Dragons, like Jungkook and 21 Savage and JVKE and Drake and AJR and all of the people who would say you're not listening to "real music" or "good music". There's a pity that's normalized with the superiority of your music tastes.

On the other hand, the more you learn and deeper you dive into anything, the more repetition you hear. The more you see things as hackneyed or trite. You've seen it before, heard it before, etc. You learn when someone was stolen from, when an artist is just rehashing something or taking from an entire genre/subculture that they weren't part of. Wider eyes see the ugly truths right?

I don't know. It's tough. I wonder if there's an answer that's satisfactory.

I saw Gibbz live, actually. Back in... 2017? I was seeing... I think A SIlent Film? With my good friend Katie. This was back when she would suggest we go see a band and I would just say yes. I think Gibbz opened. I don't remember. Shout Out Rock and Roll Hotel, I miss that venue.

Gibbz wasn't what I was expecting. A little smooth, a little mischievous. Like a wink between good friends. Electronic but soulful. A Silent Film was more classic, traditional rock. Gibbz was one guy at the front with a synth and a crooner's deathgrip on the microphone.

I went up and spoke to him after his set. It was a small venue, he was an opening artist, I just told him I loved his stuff and I really loved I Really Love You (which is still my favorite Gibbz song, for the record). He was kind. He said thanks, and how it was humbling to be playing live. It was a nice interaction.

I think, given the time and money to do so, I want to get back to doing this. Just going to shows blind, of artists I've never heard of, in genre's I've never imagined.

What does all this have to do with taste. I meander, I know. I'll bring it back.

I think I have pretty basic, milquetoast tastes. I like pretty average music. I have a passing interest in things with more obscurity- I like melodic forms of metal, I keep a finger on the pulse of industrial for Lauren. I'm finding myself drawn more to house, classical, and jazz. I like Math Rock.

But cards on the table, my favorite type of music with a bullet is Hot Pop Girlies Having Fun (tm). The Sabrina Carpenters. The Dua Lipas. My second favorite type of music is apparently Men Being Sad (the Hoziers of the world). I don't think that's ever going to change. And I'm trying to be more ok with that. I'm trying to stop letting audience or surveilance or observation change what I like and what I enjoy. I'm trying to unlearn shame.

I don't know. I just want to listen to something I love. You know?

I've stopped sharing music with a lot of people in my life (I'm aware of the irony of having that rumination on this kind of post, thanks). There's like 3 people I share music with IRL and I basically only listen to music with headphones these days. I want to make music one day but I'm struggling to see what the point is. I gotta remember the effusive joy that comes from creation, but I also need to remember, somehow, some way, that sharing music is good, actually.

Anyways, enjoy this song. I hope you feel how this song feels, at least to me. Chill, soulful, grateful to be alive, and above all, I hope that you feel good.

You could be dead right now. Go listen to something you love.