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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Brothers Finding Out a Lesser Demon with a Crush is “Moving In” on MC

You know, I like to show the good sides of our boys a lot… But how about the ugly for today? Let's let them just being mean, nasty, possessive little demons, huh?

Full disclaimer: I almost didn’t post this because I received an answer post from @diavolosthots that ended up being distressingly similar to this idea about 3/4th of the way through drafting it. I’m posting it anyway because of the time I’ve already sunk into it but in exchange I will absolutely encourage you to read from @diavolosthots if you aren’t already. They’re a big reason why I’m making content to begin with and I love what they’ve done. Warning: their blog is a LOT less fluffy than mine (they probably wouldn't be into my stuff 😅) and has NSFW content so be prepared for that going in. If that’s not your thing then just give them a pass, cool?

Check out the Masterlist for more!

Warnings: Violence, Bullying, Cyberbullying, Cannibalism(?), Murder, Yandere-ish

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Lucifer

Is honestly offended for them.

Don’t they know the caliber of demon MC rubs elbows with every day? Do they honestly think they’d stand a chance? Any one of his brothers would be more deserving than some lesser demon suitor and that even INCLUDES Mammon.

But of course, the real reason they’d stand no chance is because he wants the MC too and he’s not planning on sharing with or losing to someone who isn’t even worthy to be stuck under his boot...

He may lay down some… “discreet” hints for the poor demon to look elsewhere.

Things like advising Diavolo to make some emergency changes to the classes at RAD so they no longer share any class together or watching the demon extra closely for any minute slip up he can flag them for. If he could have them expelled for a dress code violation, he’d do it no sweat.

Okay, "discreet hints…" Flagrant misuses of power… Same difference right?

He may never come right out and say they should leave MC alone (why dignify the guy with such a response?) but if looks could kill then his “competition” would be utterly decimated by now. Especially if he ever catches the two in the same room... Yikes.

Mammon

Oooo buddy, he ain’t happy. He doesn’t even like sharing with his brothers and now some rando wants a piece too?? Nuh-uh. No way.

Takes the more direct approach and just confronts the guy when the MC isn’t around. It's good for the demon that Mammon doesn’t like resorting to violence if he doesn’t have to. Heated words and a threat or two will be exchanged then they can go their separate ways.

That can be the end of it if the guy backs off (as anyone with sense should). But if not…

When he makes a threat, and he’s serious about it, Mammon makes good on them.

He’ll come back to the House one night a little beat up, maybe with a few nicks and scratches. Of course he’ll want the MC to play nurse for him and he’ll be delighted if they accept (even if his tsundere ass won’t say it).

The lesser demon apparently dropped out of RAD the next day. No explanation given. He didn’t even step foot back on the school grounds to do it...

Of course, everyone’s sure there’s no relation between the two. I mean, this is the same Mammon we’re talking about… right...?

Leviathan

It’s a miracle he even found out but now that he knows he’s pissed. He’s not the Avatar of Envy for nothing.

Look, he might be a shut-in and not worth all that much but he’s got to be better than some lesser demon guy! He’s the third born and he has a freaking navy for crying out loud!!

Will likely leave his room for the first time in who knows how long to follow the MC to RAD. Once he’s got a face to the name, that’s all he needs for his hatred to really get going...

He will make this dude’s life a living hell with the best tool a shut-in has, the Internet.

He’ll dedicate a freaking week to digging up dirt on this bozo then start releasing it out to everywhere he frequents. Not a single sock of that dirty laundry is getting left out. All of his most embarrassing secrets are laid bare for the Devildom to see.

He’d cover his tracks, of course, so nothing can be traced back to him. The MC is probably none-the-wiser to who’s spreading all this hot gossip but his brothers know right away.

Once the dude’s social life and pride are in utter ruin, he’ll invite the MC over for a movie marathon to celebrate! He might even get a little more cuddly than usual... His MC is with him and that’s how it ought to be.

Satan

Pffft… That’s cute. Real cute they think they stand a chance. He’d wish them luck but he also kind of wants to stab them so…

On the one hand, he knows he probably shouldn’t waste his time but on the other he just can’t resist the call to absolute devastation that his inner rage is forcing on him...

His new goal is to utterly undermine the new competition in every way, mental and physical, which means he will take every opportunity he can to demonstrate just how much on another level he is.

Gets nitpicky and corrects the guy’s every move. If he says something wrong in class, he’ll berate him for it. Make a social faux pas? Well now the whole school is going to know about it.

Doesn’t stop there, though. He will do everything in his power short of throwing the first punch to try and instigate a fight with the him. He knows that if he technically starts it then the punishment will be on him, but the other way around he can say, “Hey, he’s the one who punched Wrath incarnate. What was he expecting would happen?”

Any resulting fight between the two would be a very one-sided bloodbath. He will not hold back at all and stop when he damn well feels like. The guy will be in whatever the Devildom equivalent to a hospital is for weeks...

If the MC tries to ask him about his behavior, he’ll gaslight them and change the subject. He doesn’t really like indulging in the more violent side of himself in his day-to-day life but some things just can’t be helped, can they?

Asmodeus

Honestly not as bothered as the others are. He knows they stand zero chance, so why worry? It’s bad for the skin.

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to sit back and do nothing. Oh no, a zero chance could always become a one, even five percent chance if you’re not careful.

Asmo’s preferred method of ridding competition is like a mixture of Satan and Levi, but Oh. So. Much. Worse.

Lesser demons can be astonishingly easy to charm without them noticing and he is the best charmer of the family. He’s pretty popular to start with but suddenly he’s talking to almost everyone he comes across until, well, he’s got the whole school listening.

From there it’s child’s play. Suddenly, the demon’s friends won’t talk to them. People stare and whisper about them in the hallways, is what they’re saying true? Doesn’t matter. Asmo could feed them anything and they’d believe it.

He’ll make sure they feel isolated, alone, and hated by everyone they speak to and they won’t even know why. Going to RAD at all will be like walking into a prison. Ideally, they’ll just stop going, and then tada! Competition no more.

Of course, he could just charm the competitor to look elsewhere, but then who’s going to be the example to the others? Nobody needs any more “Zero-Chancers” popping up around the MC, right? You’re welcome, sweetie~! 😘

Beelzebub

He’s trying not to be that guy, he really is… but since the MC is involved… Really? You actually think you got a shot there, buddy?

Probably going to be the brother most likely to try and let the guy down gently at first, but make no mistake he will make sure he knows it’s a lost cause.

If the other demon still insists on being a competitor though… Alright.

MC pretty much goes under his “protection” from that point on. If they’re at RAD at all, Beel is not far behind. Not exactly looking outright intimidating but always just…. there.

But if the dude so much as enters a room with them he’ll be sure to stare him down and mention that he’s hungry a little louder and a lot more often.

To the MC that may just be typical Beel, but everyone else there knows Beel has swallowed lesser demons whole in the past. And for a lot less reason than this...

When Beel gets territorial he can be a subtle about it, but terrifying nonetheless.

Belphegor

Would laugh in their face and give zero shits about it.

Like, even as the weakest sibling he could snap them like a toothpick and that’s not even getting to how they probably know jack all about the MC anyway. What even is this idiot??

Starts pulling some casual “pranks” on the guy to grief him at first. Little things like tripping him up with his tail or taking his things and hiding them in inconvenient places.

The lazy part of him hopes he’ll get the message and back off but that sadistic side really hopes he doesn’t so he’ll never talk to him directly...

When, of course, the dude doesn’t back off because he doesn't know he's supposed to, his pranks start escalating. A textbook in the school pool suddenly becomes an explosive curse put on their backpack. A kind of homicidal passive-aggression, if you will.

By some unholy miracle the guy manages to last a couple days after a barrage of progressively lethal murder attempts pranks, Belphie’s inner laziness and frustration will finally get to him and he’ll cut the passive from his aggression.

Much like with Mammon, everyone finds out that the demon dropped out of school quite suddenly. But he’s also seemed to have gone dark from all his socials and his friends can’t seem to find him anywhere...

Concerns were raised with Lucifer but he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about starting an investigation... It’s not the first time he’s covered for his brothers after all. 🙄🤷‍♀️

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons

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kyoko0001 · 4 years ago

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So I got re-diagnosed with ADHD recently and got on proper medications for it. I say re-diagnosed because I had been diagnosed in childhood multiple times, but my parents refused any sort of therapy or treatment for me. I’ve spent my entire life self medicating in various ways and beating myself up in an attempt to just be functional.

I gave up on normal years ago!! After so many teachers, family members, and friends just telling me to be quite. Just pay attention. Just make a list. Just try this app. Just stick to a routine. Just write it down. Just don’t be so sensitive... I seriously wonder sometimes if I just... human wrong?

The things my parents and teachers constantly told me run on repeat in my head every time I notice the gap between me and ‘normal.’ I berate myself by saying I am just being lazy. I am not trying hard enough. That if I can only do better, read another self help book, find a new app.... That I could be normal too. Everything would click and I could get my shit together.

Over the years I think I myself have become my biggest bully... and I learned to bully myself for the natural way my brain works because a bunch of uneducated adults and teachers told me I was purposely failing because I just didn’t care. I learned that I didn’t deserve love, empathy, or basic human respect until I ‘grew out of it’ and that was so deeply ingrained in me, and my inner critic got so big, that I thought I was just... bad. Not even broken! just offensively wrong to everyone and anyone I came across.

When I was a kid and still in catholic school we would stay after school mass for private prayer or reflection and I would look around at all the statues and crosses and wonder what I did to make god hate me.

Let that sink in.

I thought my parents and teachers hated me because god had made me bad. and no matter how many prayers I said, how often I went to confession, or how much repenting and apologizing I did to those statues... nothing changed.

I don't have a unique experience. I am sure a lot of you relate to this and I am fucking sorry.

I only graduated in 2015 guys. I’m 23. Those same ignorant teachers and school administrators sill work with kids just like me every single day and I wonder if they understand what a negative impact they can cause. Not just on kids with ADHD... but any kid who doesn’t have a perfect home life or is struggling with mental health issues. We are called liars. We are told we are faking. We are told we just want attention. We are called dramatic. We are told we are lazy. That we lack work ethic and if we don’t want to work at McDonalds for the rest of our lives we better get it together.

The thing that always frustrated me the most... is that I always tried.

It was never about not trying.

I don’t think I am more overwhelmed as an adult then I was in school... but I think I am more aware that it is not normal for things to actually be this hard. I’ve been in therapy for like... 2 years now I think? I needed two years of therapy to deal with the complex trauma from my first 18 years of life to even get to a point of being able to show myself enough compassion to not instantly shut down the thought of “well maybe I have no reason to lie to myself and everyone else about how my brain works?”

Yes.

I have a lot of genuine fear that I am making the entire thing up for attention and all those teachers and my shit parents were right all along. That really I am just lazy and life really is this hard and it wont get any better because everyone procrastinates or gets distracted every now and then.

I know I am not alone in this ether. Tons of people feel this way about their mental health because our society treats mental health differently than other forms of illness or trauma. You wouldn't worry about faking a broken arm or a failing kidney.

I was shaking as I waited for my appointment to start. I was terrified that I wasn’t going to be believed even though all I had to do was tell the truth. I was afraid to say that I felt like the coping skills I had learned on my own through self help books and therapy were not enough and I wanted to try medication. I was afraid she was going to think I was just a drug seeker because I have self medicated with different things in the past to try and quite my head down enough to function.

Instead I felt listened too, validated, and not alone.

I had my first day at work today on my new medication and FUUUUUCK is there a night and day difference. I don’t act any different in a social setting but guys... . My head was quieter then it has been in years and instead of crying in the bathroom because I was overwhelmed... I had to take a quick cry brake because it was 4:30 and I actually got everything done I needed to without my brain pulling me in 50 directions all at once.

Do you know how much energy you have at the end of the day when you’re not spending your entire day mentally berating yourself over the fact that you are doing everything but the thing you need to do? Do you know how much time I save when I don’t have to start from the beginning of work tasks over and over every time I get interrupted because I loose my train of thought and don't want to make a mistake?

After I got out of work it was not straight home to smoke some weed and vegitate because I am out of spoons and transformed back into my natural gremlin state. I stopped and put gas in my car, I did my dishes, I walked the dog, and I worked on my fics some while still getting downtime! I still got to play on tiktok and obsessively check the election results.

My energy level, concentration, and mood have been consistent the entire day. That NEVER happens.

I get to go to bed tonight knowing I did every fucking thing I was supposed to do today and honestly... I have no clue how many years its been since I could say that.

Today I wasn’t just functional... I got to feel normal.

#ADHD #adhdawareness #Trauma #kyokorambles

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depressedkakashihatake · 4 years ago

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Mafia au kakashi x iruka

Kakashi has to go pick shikamaru and naruto up from school and has to sit in a meeting with the principal and their teacher iruka

BTW naruto is adopted by shikaku and yoshino

Babysitting duty.

This was the punishment he got for forgetting to pick up Shikaku’s coffee on the way into work this morning. As soon as his boss had gotten a call from Shikamaru and Naruto’s school, he had gotten the grand idea of punishing Kakashi for his mistake by having him pick up the troublemakers from school and listen to whatever rant the principle and teacher had brewing for him.

He had hoped when he got there the school would turn him away saying only Shikaku or Yoshino could pick the boys up.

Apparently Shikaku had already thought of that.

“Nara-san said to expect you,” the secretary behind the desks smiles up at him, completely ignoring the look of utter disgust on his face. “The boys are in the principal's office waiting for you.”

Great. Just what he wanted.

“Thanks.” He’s certain she can hear the displeasure in his voice, but she continues to smile. He wonders if she’s actually capable of producing a frown, or if the principle has injected her with a serum that forces her to smile twenty-four seven.

Making his way around the desk, he drags his feet along the carpet towards the principal's office, fond memories of his own times spent in that exact office because he had gotten into a fist fight, or corrected a teacher's misinformation in class.

The worst part of it all?

He knew for a fact it was the same damn principle.

Knocking on the door, he waits for a soft ‘come in’ to come through the door before taking a deep breath, grabbing the door knob and opening the door.

Suddenly it feels like he’s twelve years old again about to be scolded. Except this time, he was painfully aware of every single person in the room. The principal sitting comfortably behind his desk, Shikamaru and Naruto in front of the desk with their heads hung low, and a fourth person off to the side with a scowl on his face.

A very cute face, he might add.

“Hatake,” there’s a bitterness in the principal's voice when he sees him. “I see Nara-san still keeps you around.”

Giving his shoulders a shrug, Kakashi ignores the principles jab in favour of turning his attention to the troublemakers in question, wondering to himself if this was going to be a trip that resulted in him having to scold them, or him getting them Ramen as a reward.

He really hoped it was the second one.

It would ruin his day a lot less if he got to hear about the pair beating up a bully, or just throwing hands with someone. Anyone. He didn’t care who.

“Is there an actual reason i’m here, or do you just like to waste my time?” Ok, he might have drawn on his ‘inner Shikaku’ a little too much with that one. ‘What did they do?”

“They got into a fight,” It wasn’t the principal's lips moving, so Kakashi forced himself to look at the fifth person in the room. Unfortunately, that face had not gotten any less cute since he looked at it last, and he had really been hoping it would. It was easier to dislike someone when they weren’t cute. “Broke another student's nose.”

He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be wondering if it’s his training or Gai’s that they used to break a kids nose, but he is.

He most definitely is.

“Did the kid deserve to have his nose broken?” Not the best way to ask that particular question, but it got the point across and for the first time since he arrived both of the boys lifted their head.

“He called Naruto an orphan and told him no one would ever love him.” Kakashi raised an eyebrow towards the other man, silently asking him if he really thought the boys deserved to be in trouble for that.

Clearly he understood what was being asked of him, because he straightened up immediately and narrowed his eyes. Determined. That was a hot trait for a guy to have.

“”Violence is hardly an appropriate answer to being picked on, Hatake-san,” Clearly the man did not know who he was talking to. Violence was the perfect answer, and Kakashi couldn’t help but level the principle with an unimpressed look for that one. “They broke a students nose.”

“Was anyone actually going to do anything about the bullying?” His eyes didn’t leave the principle for a second. He knew the answer he was going to give. It was the same one he gave to Shikaku every single time he had to pick Kakashi up from school early.

It’s just a bit of playful teasing

It’s not our responsibility

All equally trash excuses.

“I would have,” ok, that one caught him off guard. Turning his attention back over to the teacher, he raised an eyebrow and waited for him to elaborate. “Bullying is unacceptable, but so is violence. The other student has been informed that he is on a final warning, as this is not the first time he has been caught bullying other students. One more time and he will be expelled, broken nose or not.”

Was it wrong that he was turned on right now? Because a teacher actually standing up to bullying was kind of hot.

“Stop flirting,” he glared over at Shikamaru, ignoring the way Naruto smacked a hand over his mouth and giggled. “It’s gross.”

“I am not,” he hissed, already taking back the offer for Ramen that he hadn’t actually made to them yet. “You just shut it. You’re the one in trouble here.”

“Oh like you’re a good boy.” He was definitely not going easy on the brat during their next training session together. Yoshino could yell at him all she wanted for giving her deerling a bruise, maybe Shikamaru would finally learn how to dodge a hit if he actually took one.

“As i was saying,” the sensei cleared his throat “none of the students' behaviours were acceptable, and as such we have decided on a suspension for all of them.”

Suspension? Was that supposed to be a punishment? Did they still do that? It hadn’t worked on him, why would it work…

Actually, he wasn’t going to complain.

It was better than an expulsion.

Fine,” shrugging his shoulders, he glared at the boys. “Let’s go. You can explain to your dad that you’re getting caught fighting.”

Both the principle and their teacher cleared their throats.

“Sorry, I meant to say you can explain to your father than you’re fighting and breaking other students' noses,” he corrected himself. “Better?”

“From you?” The principle huffed. “Acceptable.”

For a grown man, he sure was tempted to stick his tongue out at the man.

Too bad his mask was in the way.

“Let’s go you two,” he sighed, taking a step back to let them out the door. “I have better things to do with my day than visit this old shi- school.”

“Ya, right,” Naruto giggled, running past Kakashi into main office. “Like ask Iruka-Sensei out on a date?”

Iruka? That was sort of a cute na-

“I will end you!” He screamed after Naruto as soon as he realized what had just been said to him.

“I don’t think Iruka-Sensei wants to date a guy who kills his adopted brother!” Shikamaru jabbed him in the ribs on the way by, laughing when he glared at him. “He’s too much of a softy for that.”

“Would you quit calling me a softy!?” Glancing back at the other man, Kakashi couldn’t but chuckle when he saw the angry look on his face. “And stop trying to set me up with your brother!”

“Too bad,” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Kakashi smirked. “I like big softies.”

Judging by the way the man’s eyes practically bulged out of his head, the comment had done its job of embarrassing the poor bastard.

“Maybe I'll buy you dinner one of these days,” he offered playfully “As a reward for putting up with those two shits.”

“I’m sure Iruka-Sensei would prefer to spend his time with better company,” How was it that the old man always managed to make him hate his guts more and more every time they saw each other? “Now get out of my office, Hatake.”

“It’s stuffy in here anyways,” he huffed, turning towards the door and heading out “smells like decaying old man.”

He can hear the screams chasing after him, but he ignores them in favour of following the boys out of the school and back towards his car.

“So,” stopping by the drivers side, he turned to look at the pair. “Ramen for lunch?”

Naruto threw his hands up in the air, celebrating the victory he had just been handed while Shikamaru sighed in defeat.

At least this trip wasn’t a complete write off.

Maybe he would have to pick them up from school more often, just to see the cute teacher again.

#Kakairu #Mafia Au

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depressedoverdrawings · 4 years ago

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I’ve read In the Sunroom, Keiko Takemiya’s earliest shounen-ai, released in 1970, fifty years ago. Half a century. Thinking about it makes my head spin. I'd heard it was supposed to be some sort of proto-Kazeki, but I didn’t expect the main character to be Serge. I mean, literally Serge, he’s a roma boy called “Serge Battour”, but in this version his mom’s a fortune teller, he doesn’t seem to have any noble blood in him, and he seems considerably younger. He was already adorable then, of course. Spoilers ahead, by the way. If you’re in a position to read this post you probably have already read In the Sunroom, and even if you haven’t, you probably know how Keiko Takemiya likes to end her stories. But still, I’d rather be on the safe side. Anyway, if you haven’t read it already, go read it, it’s pretty short. If you can’t find it, send me a message, I’ll help you out. Anyway, let me tell ya, Serge is not lucky when it comes to falling in love, is he? The subject of his painful affections this time is Étoile Rael, a proto-Gilbert who takes the role of the pale boy before him. He sports slightly shorter hair, the power of imagination, and a fixation on taking his clothes off. He’s got some similarities to Gilbert other than his near-identical looks, sharing that carefree gracefulness that Gilbert often displays when he’s not otherwise occupied going through horrible trauma, and also showing some social manipulation craftiness. He displays both when he pretends to be having an anaemic attack during class, both saving Serge from bullying at school (from the teacher, no less), and allowing them (and his little sister) to leave class early and spend the rest of the school day happily playing around in puddles. He’s also got many differences, though. This particular pale boy is sweet and affectionate with Serge up-front, there’s no antagonism from him. The drama in their relationship comes from Serge’s fear and lack of understanding regarding Étoile’s affection, and his own growing feelings for Étoile (a concept given its deserved attention in Kazeki). Meanwhile, Étoile’s faces the pain of seemingly unrequited love. He’s even got a seemingly healthy family (his mom seems pretty cold and distant though), having a little sister, Angel, who he at first has a happy relationship with. He slowly becomes distant from her as he falls for Serge, though, trying to push her away from them, seeing her as a rival. It gets a bit ridiculous when he doesn’t even care about her falling into freezing-cold water, being solely worried about Serge, who jumped in after to save her. Jesus Christ dude, I know you want Serge, he’s perfect and pure and literally the best boy and all, but she’s your little kid sister, come on. Ironically, this behaviour spooks Serge, and, together with Serge’s internal conflicts, drives him away, causing a falling out between them. Sunroom Serge is as sweet as Kazeki Serge however, and never stops caring about Étoile. He spends three days in a row moping around in The Sunroom, waiting for Étoile to show up, and then rushes to his bedroom as soon as he hears from Angel that the boy is seriously sick. Étoile dies. Of course he does. Not from sickness though, but from suicide. Maybe Serge’s desperate, teary invasion of his sickbed wasn’t enough to convince him that Serge fully reciprocated his feelings, even if he didn’t realize it at the moment. Maybe he reached the conclusion that a relationship with Serge would never work out? Or perhaps it was a rash decision, made in the midst of an emotional storm of pain and sadness. Regardless of why, he gives in to despair, and decides to kill himself, stabbing himself with a knife held in his loved one’s hand, in a death as trauma-inducing as it is intimate. And it is very intimate. There are many interesting concepts and deviations from Kazeki in this manga. For instance, the bullied kid here is Serge, in an inversion from Kazeki (actually Kazeki is an inversion from this but I digress). It follows a simpler, more obvious choice of bullied kid, as the persecution born from racism doesn’t require as much set-up to work, as she's only got around 50 pages to work with, instead of 17 freaking volumes. As such, this element isn’t given much depth or material, though I find it understandable. While Étoile considers himself a weirdo and an outcast (due to internalized homophobia, I’d guess), the manga doesn’t actually display him facing any social rejection, other than maybe the fact that his only friend is his little sister. Sunroom Serge, on the other hand, is relentlessly mocked by all, and so lonely, that once he makes a friend (Étoile), he runs around the town like a maniac, shouting to everyone about how happy he is. Aww. Regardless, it’s clear that Étoile, fittingly for proto-Gilbert, carries some sort of internal turmoil with him, even if it’s left vague and unexplored. But while analysing this manga and comparing it to Kazeki is fun, my favourite thing about it is, by far, is the concept of The Sunroom itself. When you’re a kid, having your own secret hideout, having that little place no one knows but you (and your cherished inner circle), it’s one of the coolest feelings ever. It certainly was, for me. At school, my friends and I “had” a couple of wonderful little nooks which we called our own, during recess. At home, I sat on the floor of a tiny little storeroom (if you could even call it that) that I’d make cosy with pillows and covers, and stayed hours reading comics, and later, books. It was so dusty, I always left the place sneezing. And it was great. And finally, in the nearby park, I “had” a little corner behind some of the park buildings, which beautifully faced the wooded hillside of the beginning of the little forest inside the park. Back then, I had no idea what “aesthetics” meant, or consciously understood beauty. And yet, the quiet natural grace of the place entranced me anyway. And it was exactly that strange feeling of loving that place in a way I didn’t understand that made me so connected to it. And here, the feeling of having your own secret hideout is so gorgeously, sincerely depicted! The Sunroom was doubly abandoned: First, it was abandoned along with the rest of the house. Then, it was abandoned in how Étoile’s parents didn’t care or even know about it, after buying the mansion. But then, the kids claimed the lonely old Sunroom for themselves, and gave it new purpose, turning it into their own little kingdom, playing, rearranging tables, messing around, unleashing that wild, unlimited imagination of childhood, that primal cosmic force, turning that dusty old room into a tiny little door to perfection, for a little while. In Sunroom Serge’s own words: Next, this place becomes a forest of fairies. With its bookshelves and aged desks... And the sunlight pouring down on us... This old, unused sunroom... Where the magic is cast endlessly. This manga didn’t make me wail like Kazeki, but it did make me tear up, right here. Anyway, In the Sunroom truly is a prototype of Kaze to Ki no Uta, in that it has similar plot beats, and character and relationship concepts. It has Serge, it has external conflict with society, it has internal conflict with one’s own mind, it has a tragic relationship that ends with the death of the pale boy; it even begins with a poem by Serge, declaring his love for his dead lover. Kaze to Ki no Uta seems, to me, like the logical end result of Keiko Takemiya taking the concepts present in In the Sunroom, and giving them eight years of dedication, working on them with masterful skill and true passion, allowing those concepts to reach their full, devastating potential. It’s awesome to see the seeds of what comes to be. Oh yeah, In the Sunroom also holds the honour of having the first ever male/male kiss in manga! Fifty years ago! Fifty years. Jesus. Anyway, In the Sunroom is bretty gud, would recommend, 8.8/10, not enough tragedy random stuff: - someone who can write should write a goofy fic about gil and étoile fighting over Serge - it’s really cool to see the improvement of her architectural drawings in kazeki - not that they’re ugly here, they’re not, but still, the change is impressive - serge nearly has a heart attack when he merely thinks of étoile naked, get a grip dude - ”étoile” means “star”, adorable

#in the sunroom #keiko takemiya #Serge Battour #shounen ai #shoujo #kaze to ki no uta #rant

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mellomedia · 4 years ago

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Youth Culture

For Media & Society’s first blog post, our class watched Euphoria, Mid90s, Mean Girls, Kids, and The Breakfast Club. If you haven’t figured out the theme yet, it’s youth culture. Most of these films were set in the 80s and 90s before this current generation. This is the first generation where our lives are saturated by mobile technology and social media (Divecha, 2017). But no matter what generation, youth culture has many common behaviors, or misbehaviors.

Often when I watch a film or read a comic book, I wonder if I relate to the story or anyone in it. I looked for anything in common I might have with one of the characters in the five films we watched. I can identify with Ray from Mid90s the most. I’m not a die-hard skateboarder like Ray. In fact I can’t skateboard at all, but I dedicate all my time and energy into art and animation. While we have different interests, I can relate to Ray’s passion for something he enjoys and the energy he puts into it. Ray is the top skateboarder in his group and practiced every day. All my spare time is spent drawing and taking online animation courses. My goal is to always do better than what I did yesterday. Words to describe Ray would be the same way I describe myself: down to earth, not concerned with fitting in, my own person, caring, always willing to help, and a very loyal friend. When Stevie joins the skateboard crew in the film Mid90s, he finally digs up some money to buy Ruben’s old, used skateboard. Stevie gets injured while attempting an insane jump over a hole in a roof and breaks his skateboard. Ray sees how much Stevie is trying to fit in, no matter how many falls he takes, he gets back up. Ray has a big heart and builds Stevie a new skateboard. As I mentioned, I’m not a skateboarder, but I enjoy trying to make people smile with my art. I enjoy drawing a cartoon of a friend to help them to get out of a funk or just listen to whatever it is they are going through.

These films all share a few common themes. One theme is belonging. I admit I looked up the term “fitting in” and it was compared to belonging. Fitting in is defined as to be like other people in a group – what they wear, how they act, how they look. (Pace, 2018) Belonging is a basic human need – it is about acceptance – being where you want to be and being where you are wanted (Pace, 2018). A few examples are Stevie (Mid90s) wants to be accepted into the skateboard crew; Brian (The Breakfast Club) brings a flare gun to school as a suicide attempt because he didn't feel he was good enough; and Cady (Mean Girls) is the new girl trying to get accepted by The Plastics.

My freshman year in high school definitely falls into the theme of belonging. I struggled with speech and have a learning disorder. And at the time I had zero confidence in socializing. I’d walk over to a group of kids in the cafeteria just to try to get involved in the conversation, but I couldn’t form sentences quick enough to jump in. I would be the weird kid just standing there. One day my speech therapist asked me what I wanted to improve and I told her I wanted to gain confidence in socializing. She told me the best way to do this would be to just try to talk to more people. Well in high school that worked with some kids, but not all. I’ll never forget one day in the cafeteria I was trying to find a place to sit and eat lunch. I saw an empty chair at a table where a ‘friend’ was sitting. The group was taking turns roasting one another. At one point another kid challenged me. I was doing fine until he said, “You know people are only nice to you because they don’t want to hurt your feelings.” That hurt like hell. He was referring to my speech impairment. I got up from the table and walked away. And that ‘friend’ at the table didn’t defend me at all. One girl came running over to make sure I was alright. I was pissed and hurt. I was not alright. Just so you don’t think I went off the deep end and had a miserable high school experience, I actually gained a great friend in high school that day. Alex, who was a senior, saw me leave track practice early. My head just wasn’t into track, so I went to sit in the empty cafeteria hoping to clear my head. He asked how things were going and I told him what happened that day. He told me, “It’s not easy finding out who your real friends are. But don’t change for anyone and don’t try to be like anyone else. Just be you.” I’ll never forget how he took the time to talk to me. After his advice, I could care less about belonging.

Another common theme between all five films is rebellion. When they aren’t skateboarding, most of the characters in Mid90s spend their time partying, drinking, and doing drugs. In The Breakfast Club, each character is in detention because they rebelled in some way. Why else would they be in detention? Every character in Kids was a rebel, actually more like a criminal. I bet the writer of the film was too.

A third theme is “bro” culture. “Bro” culture is defined as people who are bullies but at the end of the day they have your back, like a brother (Sloothunter42, 2018). Two great examples of “bros” are John (The Breakfast Club) and Ian (Mid90s). Throughout The Breakfast Club, John constantly insults the other kids in detention. He even insults the principal. The group escapes detention to wander the hallways. When the principal sees them, John saves the group by telling them to go back to the library while he distracts the principal. This link shows you the scene I’m explaining: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Iq7MRlHg5I (Hughes, 1985). Not something you would have expected from a bully, but you would from a “bro.” In Mid90s, Stevie’s brother, Ian, beats the crap out of him every chance he gets. But when Stevie is laying in a hospital bed after a car accident, his brother is there by his side. He even shares his precious orange juice.

Now onto one of my favorite things in life, music! I put together a playlist that relates to my adolescent experience. In no particular order, here are 10 songs and what each means to me. But let me point out that some song lyrics mean something to me, while with other songs it was the energy it gives off. I’m all about positive energy. First song is “Mr. Blue Sky” by Electric Light Orchestra. I first heard this song during the movie Guardians of the Galaxy. This song kept me motivated and positive during high school. If I was having a bad day, this was my ‘go to’ song. I also listened to it every day on my way to school. Next is “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley, a.k.a. CeeLo Green. This song reminds me of my mind, imagination, and the stuff I think about. I always have a trillion things going on in my head. I guess that explains my poor focus skills and super procrastination. “Inner Ninja” by Classified is another upbeat song. A few lines that always stuck in my head are, “I find my inner strength and I re-up; Here we go, I know I've never been the smartest or wisest; But I realize what it takes; Never dwell in the dark cause the sun always rises.” My junior year of high school I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It has and still is life-changing and as much as I don’t let it change who I am, I’m human. But as the song says, don’t dwell on the negative, look for the positive. I always remind myself of the positive. “Through the Fire and Flames” by DragonForce always fueled my brain when I was tired of doing homework or studying. To me the lyrics mean to keep moving forward no matter how difficult. Just look at what your goal is and don’t give up. Plus this song has one hell of a guitar solo that is very motivating. Michael Jackson is one of my favorite artists and “Man in the Mirror” reminds me how important it is to try to do good in the world and make a positive change. Regardless of culture, color, religion, and disability, we are all capable of making good changes in the world. I tried this on a much smaller scale in high school by volunteering at the food pantry and community events. “Clint Eastwood” by Gorillaz is one of many songs by this group that I like. It’s not so much the words I relate to, but I love the animation in their music videos. I remember the first time I saw one of their videos I thought how cool and mysterious it was that we only see the singers as cartoons. We are never shown who they really are. I like the fact that it’s different. Different is good in my world. “Intergalactic” by Beastie Boys reminds me of breakdancing and dancing in general. I love to dance and looked forward to every prom and homecoming dance at high school. “Without Me” by Eminem reminds me that no matter how much people criticize you, you can be very successful at what you enjoy doing. The last song on my list is “Take Me Out” by Franz Ferdinand. To be honest, I just like the beat of the song and it’s one of those songs I listened to over and over in high school.

So that wraps up my Youth Culture blog. I hope it gave you a better understanding of how I relate to the assigned films. But let me make one thing clear, I do not relate to anything in the film Kids. Not one thing.

Below is my self portrait of what goes through my mind.

Artwork by: Marcello Laudato

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lladyariall · 5 years ago

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So, I just realized a TON in this one flashback.

[Sit down, y'all. This is going to be a bumpy ride ;D before I begin please know this is just my silly opinion in just how I see certain characters. Please enjoy the blog!]

He's mentioned his mom twice, he's shared about his step brother, and Mao Mao brought up his dad in only one episode. Yet, he has mentioned that his mom "says things she would not say" to which I say that he is hinting that he has an abusive past like Mao Mao might have had, but probably worse. Personally, I think poor Badgerclops had a very psychologically abusive mom. He speaks highly about his dad that one time while his mom was.. was really low-key tension going on in the air, if you guys have noticed that. He seems really small in the voice, and he even goes out to try to bring her up in public television. Was he trying to reach out a message to her during "Head Chef" when he was being challenged by Mao Mao?

I think I know why Badgerclops can't take personal critism. He's practically bullied all the time; is the rock to Mao Mao's unstable emotions/heroic thirst for adventure; he's constantly being told he's lazy; fat; and other things.. but to be honest, he IS suffering from all these things that he does try to hint and bring up every once a in a great while that we never get to really hear him out for.

So.. if you all have moms (not trying to offend anybody who may or may not) there is nothing more hurtful than hearing your own mom tell you things about yourself you don't want to hear. I mean, like actual mean things that pertain to feeling absolutely sick to your heart and knowing she shouldn't be saying such mean things to you. I think with the fact that BC has had an eyepatch ever since he was really young changes a lot of things when he was growing up. It seems like no one stood up for him enough either, while Gerald seemed to always win the upper hand to trick an innocent little toddler out of his money. He probably felt like his brother was taking advantage of the fact that he had one eye and no mechanic arm then, so.. poor little guy was probably beat up a lot too.

But here's where it gets darker.

Maybe his mom is responsible for his missing eye, you know? Maybe she's an ex villian, or Badgerclops' family is a gang of badger villains that tried to raise BC their way and it may have resulted in losing his eyeball to gain an eyepatch. He was seriously Adorabat's age when he lost his eye (wait.. are all parents just TERRIBLE in this universe?!) and that type of young mind can be damaged super easily, especially if one flaw about your physical appearance makes everyone judge and become cruel to you; or for instance, someone like our awesome badger here.

Now, let's say it wasn't his mom and Badgerclops just was always ridiculed everywhere he went. Sure he had his reasons to start traveling (probably to get away from his family) alone. He met up with a cyborg gang later which he clearly was probably in tears when he joined, but he couldn't be himself. Not ever in his life could he show his true self til he met Mao Mao, and that's explains why he's so protective of him.

Yet, even Mao Mao and Badgerclops' bond can't tame the larger mammal's inner triggers and insecurities about his whole demeanor when someone speaks out their opinion. If one person said that that awesome hairdo was 'terrible looking' to Badgerclops then I'm pretty damn sure he freaked out, since he didn't wear an eyepatch, AT ALL, and assumed the villagers saw behind his haircut.

Because he clutched his 'missing' eye in sadness.. Mao Mao's flashback, you guys, has a big picture on Badgerclops' mental health just in this few seconds of this screen time.

Mao Mao truly noticed his friend's emotions and decided to just ignore them more than anything 'cause then and now, it seemed like Mao Mao was afraid BC would blow up, and destroy (*cough* murder) every place else in their travels to the point of having to kill him. We're all aware that Mao Mao would probably never have the heart to destroy his closest friend and family he's ever had so he just kept up with his cold distance up til they started to get closer and closer as friends. Mao Mao eventually saw Badgerclops as a big gentle guy but he knows the flaws that he dare not touches.

Mao Mao even showed us how he SAW Badgerclops when he exploded. That's guy eyes changed! Both of them turned blue! That's not normal for Badgerclops! His eyes are blue for a reason in this flashback that either Mao Mao knows and he isn't telling Adorabat, or he's doesn't think about it. The guy murdered a whole village over a hairdo.. wow, um, I'm pretty darn sure Mao is afraid, y'all.

So that can only mean one thing: Badgerclops' biggest flaw is trying to impress people over his personality before they decide to judge him by his looks. That's probably why when the Sweetie Pies first hugged him, he was ecstatic as heck to get more love and physical attention since he doesn't get that much from Mao Mao.

I'm sorry to say that Mao Mao doesn't even know the half of how much pain that has caused his friend to behave in a violent way, once hearing personal critism. Usually, people who are bullied a lot growing up have side effects of deep insecurities that they normally dig up and hide away for a big amount of time; BUT, once they are able to, they will unleash a mountain full of emotions that are unpredictable. I'm not saying everyone gets mad when they hear critism due to bullying. I just think that's BCs' case here.

His brother bullied him, his mom more than likely taunted and created a self conscious bubble for BC, and Mao Mao's neglect isn't helpful either. The fact that we see a new side of Badgerclops being super violent and has a large closet full of sad secrets is pretty sad and mind blowing to watch in this episode. But my favorite part is how much harder Mao Mao tries to show a different side to his relationship with Badgerclops and give him a chance to do as less damage as possible on his man's feelings. I think this one is an episode where we get to see an improvement from episode one and it truly shows.

But I still think Mao Mao was mainly afraid in this episode, which now we can't blame him for. In 'Ultraclops,' Mao Mao ignores Badgerclops' requests and venting to a point throughout their adventures we see. Badgerclops is a helpless little kid inside who just wants to be accepted and not picked at by the ones he encounters. That saying, especially his friends. Mao Mao may be improving but he has a lot more to work on with Badgerclops emotionally and mentally if they are ever going to truly figure out how to heal the wounds; instead of making more of them. I hope they work this out together.

Now I have only one theory about the blue eye colors and that's Badgerclops turning from bad to good. Maybe Mao Mao had such a big change in the ex-villains life that it improved his psychological help. Some people's eyes turn a little brighter once they face less stress in their lives so maybe BCs change in his eye was the one true way to prove it. But then when he gets mad and wants to murder anyone, they turn back blue to prove victory towards the bloody massacre.

That killer is what Mao Mao sees and does not want to kill. So he does ignore Badgerclops' feelings to a point where he still accepts his lover's emotions and for who he is anyway.. sometimes. But now we know how dangerous Badgerclops can be. What do you guys think? Do you think I'm right or wrong? Let me know your opinion too and hopefully I made sense today :)

#mao mao #badgerclops #mini blogs #heroes of pure heart #the truth stinks #badgerclops is scary af #maoclops #badgermao #sort of #psycology #emotional abuse #badgerclops' past #mao mao being the normal one #badgerclops mom is a b*tch

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dear-wormwoods · 5 years ago

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Was there a moment in the book between eddie and richie that had you start thinking maybe there were deeper feelings between the two?

Like as in the earliest moment in the book where I started to go ‘hmmm’ on the very first read through?? Anon that was a long time ago!!!

Okay so, assuming I am 14 years old and reading IT for the very first time, without that much practice interpreting symbolism and without the world knowledge needed to make certain connections that seem so obvious to me now as an adult, and I’m just casually reading the novel having only ever watched the miniseries as a little kid… these are the moments that probably jumped out at me first:

For Eddie, it was The Dam in The Barrens (aka one of the most meaty chapters for Eddie analysis)

When Richie makes his entrance in the flashback, the first thing he does is pinch Eddie’s cheek. Then we get Eddie quietly observing Richie’s face when he’s being uncharacteristically solemn. Shortly after, Richie winks at him.

And then we get THIS:

‘Ben, Eddie saw, was looking at Richie with a mixture of awe and wariness. Eddie could understand that.’

And this little reference:

‘….Richie’s sometimes enchanting, often exhausting charm.’

And then this:

“Oh—you mean it was your idea, Eds? Jesus, I’m sorry.” He fell down in front of Eddie and began salaaming wildly again.

“Get up, stop it, you’re splattering mud on me!” Eddie cried.

Richie jumped to his feet a second time and pinched Eddie’s cheek. “Cute, cute, cute!” Richie exclaimed.

“Stop it, I hate that!”

And finally:

‘A piece of Red Cross adhesive tape was wrapped around one of the bows of his glasses, and the loose end flapped against his cheekbone as he worked. Bill caught Eddie’s eye, smiled a little, and shrugged. It was just Richie.’

This is all in the span of like… four pages, and it’s relevant that our very first introduction to Richie as a kid is through Eddie’s eyes, and that he spends the whole sequence inner monologuing about how great yet confusing Richie is. 14-year-old me definitely picked up on the ‘this guy teases me playfully and I pretend to hate it but I’m actually obsessed with him’ dynamic.

But I need to stop and meta for a second because this chapter is FULL of Eddie subtext and most of it flew over my head 15 years ago:

Before we’re even introduced to kid!Richie, adult Eddie reflects on, and admits to the reader, that he actually liked when Richie called him Eds because it was a secret identity Richie bestowed upon him. He also informs the reader that as a kid people made fun of him by using homophobic slurs, and that Bill was not one of those people. It is so important that the chapter which contains an almost absurd amount of gay coding begins with those two things: that as a kid Eddie had more thoughts about Richie than he let on, and that Eddie was not just targeted by bullies for his asthma, but also for his sexuality.

As the chapter goes on, it becomes very clear that when Richie calls him Eds, Eddie doesn’t always react to it. He reacts to it only when it’s accompanied by something flirtatious, a cheek pinch or a ‘cute’. This is the part that makes Eddie say he hates it, therefore it’s also the part he secretly likes. Also, when Eddie is watching Richie in that typical Eddie way where he can somehow make poorly taped up glasses sound poetic and delicate - Bill catches him in the act of staring, perfectly nonjudgmental. It’s important that it’s Bill who catches his eye - it connects back to the beginning of the chapter when he specifically states that Bill never called him a “sissy queerboy”. Bill never judges.

And then, of course, this scene leads right into Eddie’s recollection of the hobo sexually soliciting him, solidly drawing a connection between Eddie’s fear of sexuality and his fear of rotting/disease. Sandwiched between the real hobo and the IT leper encounter, there’s a short scene where Eddie tells Bill and Richie about what happened. Richie asks Eddie if he ‘knows about fucking’ and Eddie’s reaction is that he ‘hoped he wasn’t blushing’.

Then - THEN!! - Bill references gay sex, and in the same beat Richie says syphilis makes you rot, inadvertently creating a subconscious connection for Eddie between those two things. Sex gives you diseases.Sex makes you rot. Men can have sex with other men. If you have sex, sex with men, you get a disease, and you rot. It’s not a coincidence that after this conversation, not only is Eddie DRAWN to the house own Neibolt Street and pictures himself as the rotting hobo, when he eventually does encounter IT as the leper, it’s extra rotten and hones in on the blowjob solicitation… I mean, come on.

For Richie, it was the following chapter, Georgie’s Room and the House on Neibolt Street:

So like, the possibility that Richie had a school-yard crush on Eddie had already crossed my mind before this because of him winking at Eddie and calling him cute and stuff in the previous chapter. But this chapter definitely cemented it because it’s from Richie’s POV and there is one obvious standout…

“They’ll all pinch my cheek and tell me how much I’ve grown,” Eddie said.

“That’s cause they know how cute you are, Eds—just like me. I saw what a cutie you were the first time I met you.”

The SMOOTHNESS of it all. Richie has this wonderful ability to blatantly confess his feelings without ever being taken seriously for it. Can you imagine if Ben told Bev “I saw what a cutie you were the first time I met you”? It’s true, that’s exactly what happened. But would he ever say that to her at this point in time? NO! Because it’s very obviously FLIRTY LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT SHIT! But because it’s Richie and he’s cultivated a very specific persona where everything is done for laughs, he can just… make that kind of statement like it’s normal. Hiding in plain sight.

More meta things from this chapter that flew over my head 15 years ago:

First, way before the movie scenes, Richie has to make sure no one is looking before comforting Bill because they are out in public on the street and he assumes that other people would think he’s gay for… patting his friend on the back to try to get him to stop crying. Compare this to his easy physicality with Eddie down in The Barrens - physicality that is much more likely to be interpreted as flirtatious if anyone saw - and it’s very obvious that Richie is hyper-vigilant about being seen, publicly, as anything but straight. In The Barrens, it doesn’t matter - they tell Officer Nell mere pages before this that The Barrens is where they can all be themselves. Richie is himself in The Barrens, when he’s pinching Eddie’s cheek and calling him cute. Out on the street, he can’t even do something as normal and expected as comforting his crying friend without worrying about the potential ramifications of it.

Second, when Richie meets up with Bev and reflects on how pretty she is, he gets all flustered and shit. And although nothing here involves Eddie, we do get this iconic line and perfect insight into Richie’s behavior:

‘Richie, as he usually did in such moments of confusion, took refuge in absurdity.’

His immediate, instinctual response to this confusing, uncomfortable newfound attraction to Beverly is to… throw himself on the ground and comically praise her, do Voices, and generally act like an idiot. Who does he act this way around the most? You guessed it! Eddie Kaspbrak!

It’s also in this chapter that we’re introduced to Richie’s thoughts on the teenage werewolf:

‘The Teenage Werewolf was somehow scarier, though … perhaps because he also seemed a little sad. What had happened wasn’t his own fault. There was this hypnotist who had fucked him up, but the only reason he’d been able to was that the kid who turned into the werewolf was full of anger and bad feelings.’

At first it’s like, aw, that’s cute, Richie’s showing empathy. But later in the same chapter, when IT appears as the werewolf with Richie’s name stitched into the jacket, it hits different - Riche wasn’t just showing empathy, he was relating to the werewolf’s struggle with ‘bad feelings’ and the sadness of him being a monster through no fault of his own.

Also in this chapter, there’s a small bit where Richie is lost in thought about Eddie’s trauma with the leper, and when he snaps out of it and talks to Ben, Ben is lost in thought about Bev’s trauma (the bruise on her cheek). Oh the parallels!

Anyway, this chapter functions the same way for Richie as The Dam in the Barrens does for Eddie - it starts out by demonstrating Richie’s discomfort with other people thinking he likes boys, moves into a series of interactions in which he flirts with Eddie and Bev, introduces the reader to his main IT manifestation, the teenage werewolf, and confirms that he relates to being a monster. Like Eddie, he feels an attachment to his ‘monster’ for reasons that are rooted in the way he sees himself. The subtext is much more subtle for Richie and there isn’t as much of it, but it’s there.

SO LONG STORY SHORT!! The moment(s) in the book where I first put two and two together as a casual reader were the ‘school-yard crush’ moments of pigtail pulling and flirtatious teasing. That stuff is obvious. Years later, as an adult, I can see that those same chapters that pinged for me as a teen are literally OVERFLOWING with subtext.

#asks #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #it meta #my meta #Anonymous #most of this has been done to death but could it ever REALLY be done to death? no #will i ever stop writing about reddie? no #stephen king's it #it novel #meta #eddie spaghet tea #tozier tea #500 club

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imagines-to-quench-thirst · 5 years ago

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Someone rubs you the wrong way with...

Enjoy!

Victor Creed:

Being at a party means enjoying yourself, having an unforgettable time with your friends and your boyfriend Victor how come with you just to see you swing those hips in your little black dress. For Victor, you were irresistible so much that he wanted to grab you and throw you in the nearest booth just to ravish your body. As he watched from the distance he saw you dancing with your friends laughing and twirling, enjoying every second. You looked to check on Victor as he took his last swing of the liquor, winking at his delicious lover. As you twirled back to your friend you immediately felt a sweaty and greasy hand on your lower back traveling down south. An unruly chill walked up your spine making you move away from the feeling turning around seeing a drunk man not speaking a word letting his hands guide him to you.

Your eyes travel to Victor’s spot seeing the table empty and as the hand approached your body you saw Victor extending his hand digging his claws into the man’s arm, yelling out a cry of mercy.

‘Be happy that’s the only thing I pierce with my claws.’ he growls out through the music.

The man kneels down from the immense pain begging Victor to release him. After a few moments, Victor lets him go his claws bloody swiping them along with his coat, partially cleaning them. He extends his clean hand to you

‘Let’s go home, kitten.’

Loki Laufeyson:

Dates with Loki can be only one word... relaxing. He loves to take you on strolls around parks as he holds your hand and rambles about his past week. It really relaxes both of you. But in between the date you love to get your dose of caffeine. He obliges as you two make way to the nearest coffee shop sitting on the terrace enjoying the view and Loki (duh). As you drink your coffee you can feel the waiter staring at you trying to make eye contact. You knew if you did that he would get a wrong idea. Nonetheless, you enjoyed your time with your lover.

As the last drop of coffee was drank you two stood up walking out of the coffee shop. Grabbing your bag you saw the waiter sating in front of you holding a coffee to go with numbers scribbled on the back.

‘This one is on me.’ he awkwardly says as he extends the coffee.

You immediately wave your hands in front of you not wanting the coffee ‘Thank you but I had enough coffee for today.’

The waiter instead of pushing the coffee into your hands forcefully.

‘I think that the lady said no.’ Loki says calmly as he approaches you from behind putting his arms on your back reassuring you that everything is alright.

Loki leans closer to him ‘Better run away peasant before I freeze you into a block of ice.’ Loki’s skin starts to mix with his blue and his beige tone.

The waiter looks horrified as he stumbles back into the safeness of the coffee shop. Loki turns to face you smiling and kissing your forehead.

‘Let’s continue our date, love.’

Thor Odinson:

Thor loved being able to hang out with you without any other team members because he let’s his inner ‘cuddle monster’ free. So it was natural for him to be handsy in public as you too walked around town. It would be always around 7 pm when the town starts to quiet down. He loves to dress in matching hoodies so people can get a feel that you and he are together. But not always, once a guy walked to you as you were waiting for Thor to exit the HQ and while you patiently waited the rando started making small talk about your orange hoodie, as you politely answer it cutting it to a bare minimum. The guy quickly caught your wave of ‘fuck-off’ vibes he forcefully grabs your hand making you face him.

‘Let me go, asshole!’ you scream out trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

‘Come on, just one drink, lovely.’ he says as he tries to walk away with you.

‘You mortal worm, you get your hand off my woman!’ Thor screams out forcing thunders to fall next to his body, not to harm you.

The guy lets go petrified of his near future. As you run into Thor’s arms seeing his eyes filling with anger and thunders.

Bucky Barnes:

You loved going to nature with Bucky as his favorite thing to do was feeding the ducks. He loved seeing the ducks gather around him as he crumbles the bread and sprinkling it around his feet feeling like a proud mother. And who better to enjoy it than with you. As Bucky waited for you to get off work he saw in the glass building where you worked a guy taking up your personal space. Bucky knew that you could handle it but something gave him a bad vibe about it. As Bucky held the fresh bread he bought he runs to you grabbing his shoulder, pulling him forcefully back making him almost stumble. To be honest Bucky doesn't need a GOOD reason to save you from someone. He just wanted to protect you and hey when he saw a dude trying to hit on you he WILL attack. As Bucky started to fight with the man he hit him with the bread multiple times, breaking it in half with the only second hit. Lucky stops after a while he stands over the man throwing the bread on his face

'Don't touch her ever again.' He hisses

Steve Rogers

If anything Steve didn't like it was galas. He doesn’t like the feel of fakeness from the smiles, dresses, and especially people. Steve always had to hold up a ‘smile’ for the people there which tired him out. And that’s where you come in you keep him smiling by making silly remarks or some jokes (which most of them don’t really land but still they make him smile) but still, every time you are with him he keeps you within arms reach because the last and only time he didn’t a drunk socialite approached you trying to get a ‘picture with Captian America’s lover’. Steve jumped in between of you while the socialite grabbing his hand twisting it in an uncomfortable position. Let’s just say that Steve cracked more than a smile that night.

‘I’m sorry darling, that won’t happen again.’

Bruce Wayne:

The problem being with Bruce is always the same, paparazzi. Bruce loved taking you on outdoor dates but that always meant having maybe 4 minutes of peace and quiet and after that the flashing cameras in your face or in the distance following your moves. You know what you were signing up to do when you are in a relationship with Bruce but sometimes it gets intense. Each time Bruce does his best to shelter you from them but sometimes it’s really futile. And you just let it be, as the hoard of paparazzi run towards you asking you question solely around Bruce. They can range from tame to very rude but you just keep saying in your head

‘10 minutes of this torture and the rest of the day with Bruce.’

Clark Kent:

It all happened one day as Clark was driving you to meet his mother and as the two of you arrived at the small house Clark immediately sighed thumping his head on the steering wheel.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask perplexed

Clark huffs out looking at you ‘I hear the chatter of two people I despised in high school.’

‘Bullies?’

Clark nods as he exits the car holding your hand in his and as you two were just about to step on the porch a loud voice stopped you.

‘Clark Kent? THE Clark Kent?!’ one of the two men says his eyes widened in shock.

The two men quickly run to the both of you looking at Clark seeing how he outgrew them.

‘Look at you a real! You are tall as hell.’ said the other man

‘Johnson, Marty.’ Clarks says their names.

The two men gawked over him but their eyes quickly fell on you. Looking at you like a piece of meat. Clark saw their gaze and quickly wrapped one arm over your shoulder.

‘Fellas...’ Clark says in a growl daring the attention away from you.

As much as he wanted to pummel those two the ground he felt his mother watching him from inside of the house.

‘Let’s go, babe, I can’t wait for you to try my mother’s homemade apple pie.’

Arthur Curry:

With Arthur, it’s really intense. Once at a bar Arthur sat next to you talking about his day as he put his hand on your tight circling it softly, making you melt at his touch. But not even 3 minutes later another hand is on your other tight, making you yelp in surprise. Arthur saw the man grinning wickedly at him angering Arthur by the second.

‘You are done, asshole.’ Arthur says as he starts to punch the man in his face, beating him up badly, staring a bar fight between them. The man got some shots at Arthur but you knew that Arthur was just getting started. You watched from a safe distance not wanting to catch someone's hands. As Arthur looked down at the beaten man he flips his hair back looking at you, smiling.

‘Let’s go home, doll. Apparently, we came to the wrong place where men don’t know how to treat a lady.’

Orm Marius:

When someone approaches you in an unfitting manner Orm will let out his ‘Ocean Master’ rage out going so far to hurt the person. For example, one time he was walking you home from a date when a man slapped your ass. As you turned around you saw the man grinning like a 5-year-old boy but as Orm turned to face him you saw the smile drop in seconds as he was slammed on the nearby wall being pulled up by the collar of his shirt, gasping for air. That was the first time you saw him really angry. His eyes throwing daggers at the man, his hands clutching the neckline of the shirt and his voice filling with threats/ promises what he will do to him. With a little bit of persuasion from you, Orm lets go of the man as he runs away. Orm turns to you kissing your lips softly as he holds your face in his hands gently.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent that miscreant from touching you but it won’t happen again.’

The Joker:

With J it’s really straight forward, someone touches you he will shoot them. But if they touch you while he is watching, for example, like 4 nights ago at his club. As you were at the bar ordering a drink for yourself you felt a man grinding against your ass as his hands were firmly on your waist. You pull away from him even pushing him away but to no prevail. Until Frost walks through the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor yanking him away from you and guiding him to the back rooms. As you look upon the VIP floor you see J standing there watching you. You mouth a ‘thank you’ to him and walk to his section to join.

A few days and as you were in the penthouse you hear from the floor beneath screams and a loud bang. Upon hearing that a few minutes later J walks into the penthouse covered in small drops of blood, smiling. You don’t ask anything as he walks to you kissing you roughly, he pulls away and says.

‘No one touches you but me, sweetheart.’

Duncan Vizla:

(btw, for you Duncan-ho’s like me if you haven’t watched the death stranding trailer go watch it. Mads will star in the game)

With Duncan, everything is very low-key when you are on dates with him, so it can no surprise as you told him about your day over a small dinner and about the guy you are working with. As you tell him about his nasty personality, his crooked smile, and unflattering comments it can to you no surprise when you heard about the guy absent from work due to a broken arm. You knew that Duncan intervened, so when you comforted him he replies coldly.

‘I just taught him some manners and ethics and gave him punishments for his behavior. That’s all.’

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fiercyy · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura & Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi, Team 7 - Relationship, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi, Tsunade (Naruto), Orochimaru (Naruto) Additional Tags: AU, Post-Chuunin Exams, post chuunin exams attack, Minor Character Death, Trauma, Team 7 Family bonding, Genin Era, Everybody moves in with Sasuke, he's got room, semi-au, Plot Twists, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Roommates, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 (Naruto) Feels, BAMF Dai-nana-han | Team 7 (Naruto), Team as Family, Slow Burn Series: Part 1 of Post-Chuunin Exam AU Summary:

Sakura always wished she could relate to her teammates better. She wishes she could take it back.

In which Sasuke acquires some unwanted roommates and a team becomes a family.

"You skipped training," Kakashi's one visible eye is narrowed in a foreboding expression. His large body takes up the whole doorframe when he holds himself up at full height.

Sasuke turns back to his book, earmarked not him but by Sakura, who the book belongs to. It's a historical account of the longest battle of the First Ninja War. For something so violent, it's extremely boring. "What's the point?" He asks petulantly.

"What's the point in training?" Kakashi asks incredulously. Surely Sakura's win hadn't hit him that hard.

"What's the point in the training we're doing? I'm not getting any stronger!"

"I'm teaching you restraint," begins the lecture he's heard what feels like a hundred times, "The Chidori is powerful and dangerous. You could hurt someone without meaning to."

Sasuke scoffs, "Sakura can beat me. I don't need restraint. In a fight, I'm trying to hurt someone."

"If your ego is so fragile then you're not ready for the responsibility of power."

"I am!" he argues. "But if power is such a burden then why can Sakura and Naruto keep getting stronger and now me?"

"They don't want power for power's sake!"

"Neither do I, I want power so I can use it."

Kakashi's eyes narrow, "I'm your mentor, not theirs. If you want my techniques you'll do things my way."

"Then I don't need you!" And desperate to escape the conversation, he jumps out the window.

"If you had control you wouldn't have hurt Sakura!" Kakashi shouts after him.

"I don't care!" he screams back. But that's a lie.

Sakura, for her part, has never been so thrilled to lose a fight. It doesn't feel egotistical to think that she basically won. She's just a softy who couldn't let him fall. It's a good thing, isn't it? That her instinct was to protect her teammate. (Even if, had he been thinking properly, he could have grabbed onto the wall with chakra.) That was what Kakashi was always ragging on her about, no? Not putting her team first?

She managed to surprise Sasuke and get the upper hand. She never thought she could do that. Never would have thought to… before.

Thinking about her parents brings her down. She can't do it often, it hurts too much. Since her heart to heart with Kakashi, she's being trying to focus on what she does have, not what she lost.

Her life has been in a quagmire since the attack, but at least she isn't alone. For that reason, she pities Sasuke. They both lost so much but afterward he had nobody. And she had so much. She's learning to be grateful for that, honest she is. She just gets so mad sometimes.

It's like when she was little. She was an angry kid. Her parents worked with her and taught her all the calming techniques; breaking deepy, counting, shoving it all into a box… The box worked best. All her longterm furies shut up where no one could see them. She let the bullies hit her as hard as they wanted. She wouldn't strike out. They could tease her all they liked, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

She can't hold in that inner Sakura anymore. She won't be contained. Instead she's trying to come to terms with it all; work through it as best she can. It's freeing, to be a being who can feel anger again. The fight now, is to not allow it to consume her.

"Hey," Naruto starts, only for Sasuke to stalk right past him and slam the door to their room. He glances at the clock on the VCR. It's 11:00. The lock clicks. Shit. He's terrible at picking locks. "Aw man, what am I gonna do now?"

Sakura—who sits on the opposite side of the table, books open and post-its at the ready—is unsympathetic. "Sleep on the couch."

Alone in his room, the nightmares plague him worse than before. The prophecy of being swallowed by the earth came true. He finds new things to fear.

Sasuke wakes in the middle of the night.

The voices no longer reside in sleep. Orochimaru's whispers reverberate all around him; promises of power, of bargains. How will you kill your brother if you keep you as you are? He asks with condescension.

Sasuke shakes his head and for now, the pressure in his skull is dislodged. He rises and leaves the bedroom for the living room.

The apartment is dark. There is just enough moonlight to see by. He treads softly into the living room and stares at Naruto's slack body, thrown over the couch and covered in the red wool blanket. It's large enough that all three of them fit under it but in the heat of sleep he's kicked it off his feet. His soft snores, so familiar, settle Sasuke.

He didn't want Naruto to hear his nightmares. They've woken him before, but he never seems to grasp what the nightmares are about. He knew he'd be talking in his sleep tonight. It's always worse when he goes to bed angry. Orochimaru is preying on those feelings, he won't be taken in.

Except he's told no one. They might see it as a sign of weakness, or Kakashi might try and reseal him. What power reserves would be taken from him then? The temptation of more than a taste of what the curse can give him… He's stagnating here, while others flourish. He needs to be stronger. Now. And Orochimaru wants to give him strength. It's that simple.

He'll kill him before fulfilling his end of the bargain.

That thought, formulating a plan, is what makes it too real.

Sasuke's birthday is last in the calendar year and on the first morning of his 13th year, he wakes up to yelling and the sweet smells of an unhealthy breakfast.

"I made you an omelette actually," Sakura assures, plating her pancakes. It's dry and over seasoned, but he eats every bite slathered in ketchup. There's candles in it and they make him blow them out.

The day is spent in his favourite manner: outside, training. They read together in peace in the grass, for a while after that. (Sasuke and Sakura read. Naruto doodles crude caricatures in the margins of a magazine.) They go to lunch, then the baths. They henge into adult versions of themselves, laughing all the while at their absurd visions of the future. They use the illusions to sneak into a bar that's hosting a pub quiz. A jolly civilian in his 20s hosts. Naruto's only correct contribution is a question about the minutiae of the Teenage Mutant Firefighting Turtles lore.

They win second prize—a pitcher of beer. Their weak, 13-year-old tolerance ensures than they're unable to hold their henges for long after that. Once one breaks, the others do too and laughing all the while, they're kicked out of the bar.

"Technically this is your fault for giving it to us!" Sakura argues, "We didn't order any drinks!" The bouncer is unamused.

They stumble home, leaning on each other.

And when Sasuke stares at the spinning ceiling that night, he doesn't think of his childhood, his anger or the future. For the first time, he relives the same day he'll relive for years-the best birthday he ever had.

"Teach me how to unlock the Magekyou Sharingan," Sasuke demands. He doesn't know what he's asking.

Kakashi tries to tell himself this, but when he reaches inside himself, looking for compassion, he finds only rage. "No."

"It's my clan's legacy, the next logical step. I need it if I ever hope to-!"

"If you're very lucky you will never have the Magekyou," Kakashi warns, "The cost is too great."

"I'll pay it!"

"If you do," he replies, enunciating carefully, "I will strike you down myself."

They ambush him in the evening on his way home from another seemingly useless session with Kakashi. The Sound Four and all of their formidable strength and second-hand arguments (such as they are) meant to persuade him to defect on his own. Or to take him by force.

His curse seal burns, curling across his body.

The time has come to remember his purpose.

Sasuke strains against his restraints, spitting and snarling at his teacher. Kakashi's impassive eyes rove around, but his fingers are tight on the wire. The bark itches and the blood trickles down his arm where the wire has cut him.

"What's this all about?!" He demands.

"Sorry, but I knew you wouldn't want to sit still for another lecture." The second today. "Let it go, forget about revenge. Trust me, following the path of revenge never ends well. You'll only tear yourself apart. Even if you succeed, what will you have then? Nothing. Emptiness."

"Shut up!" Sasuke's blood boils, "What makes you think you know anything about it? You have no idea! Maybe if I were to kill the most important people in your life, anyone who's ever meant anything then you'd understand," he threatens cruelly, uselessly.

"Interesting theory, but everyone I've ever loved is already dead," he says it so calmly. Sasuke never knew that about him. "Besides you. And Naruto and Sakura."

Sasuke's sharp intake of breath is the only indication that his words have any effect.

"You and I are lucky. We've found new people to love, who love us."

The boy looks so small, his head drops so Kakashi can't see his face anymore. He loosens the restraints.

"That's all I wanted to say. You'll do what you want."

In the room he shares with his teammate, only feet away from his bed, Sasuke packs a bag in the dark. There's a photograph on the desk that he considers taking with him, but that wouldn't be wise. He lays it face down and leaves the room.

He hesitates at the front door and doubles back.

He doesn't know which cousin Sakura's bedroom belonged to. He never visited them before the Massacre. It's one of the reasons he feels safe here, it's untouched by death. They died at the compound with everybody else.

He opens her door a crack. The hinges are well oiled so they don't creak.

Asleep in bed, Sakura's back is to him, arm tucked under her chin and hair falling over her shoulders. He watches her for longer than he should, heart hammering in his chest. He's really going to do this.

He stays until he can't stand it anymore, it's too much.

Outside, the village is quiet. The streetlamps haven't been fixed in many neighborhoods, so he passes through the light and darkness with equal swiftness. His unhurried gait stops at the gates. They loom in front of him, a portal into his future.

"SASUKE!" Sakura shouts, breaking the stillness of the night.

He turns and can't hide his surprise at seeing her. He's a fool. He must have woken her with his goodbye. "What are you doing here?"

"This is the only way out of the village," she evades.

"Go home Sakura."

Before I say things we'll both regret.

"No," her voice breaks. She darts in front of him to block his path. "Why? I thought I understood you but I don't. I just don't. How can you throw everything away?"

"You could never understand me," he replies coldly. "I'm throwing away everything that doesn't matter. Anything that doesn't help me accomplish my goals."

"I know in the beginning you couldn't stand me. You probably hated me. But I thought-" here Sakura hesitates and the tears drip from her chin. "I thought that things were different now. You told me once that I have no idea what it means to be alone, well now I do. I do and I wish I didn't. It's horrible. But it's a little less horrible with you." She chokes on a sob and slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle it.

"You're just as annoying now as you were then." He steps up to her, so they're standing close. "Move," he commands.

"No."

"Move or I'll move you."

Her stance widens but her knees quake. "Try it then."

"Don't you understand that I'll kill you if I have to?" Move!

She laughs, so sad, "For the sake of your revenge."

"I'm travelling a path that you can't follow," in telling her so, he hopes to be kind.

Sasuke pushes past her. Like a willow branch, she moves aside then springs back to watch him walk away. All the fight has gone out of her. "You don't have to be alone. You don't think we would help you?" She cries, "Naruto and I would do anything for you. Why won't you let us?!"

"I don't need you!" He roars. "We aren't the same."

"I love you, don't you understand? Please don't walk away!"

With his back to her, neither can see the effect their words are having on the other, but they can hope. They can imagine.

"Stay," she whispers brokenly. "Or take me with you."

He turns. "Where I'm going, I have no use for you. Forget you ever knew me."

"No. You know that I can't," she says with force. He advances and her speech quickens. "If you move I'll scream, I swear I will, I-" In a flash, he's behind her. A sharp pain in her neck. Darkness descends.

Whispered words. Thank you.

12 hours earlier…

Though some ninjas choose to work under the cover of night, many realize that it's far easier to work in plain sight, in the day, hidden by the crowd. Sasuke has only been to Kakashi's apartment once before, but he remembers the way. It's not so odd that a student would visit his master in the day time.

He knocks and Kakashi's surprised to find him at the door.

"Can I come in?" He trusts that his sensei's home is secure.

"Sure, Sasuke," Kakashi replies in his usual breezy tone. "What can I do for you?"

"I need you to get me a covert meeting with the Hokage."

In under an hour they're in her office. Shizune, their only witness. Tsunade surveys the boy over her steeples fingers. "What can I do for you, Uchiha?"

"I need you to assign me an S-rank mission, to infiltrate Sound." Kakashi's eye cuts to him, "As a double agent."

#sasusaku #team 7 #sasuke x sakura #naruto #fanfiction #IYC #if you can't hold on hold on #my fic

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classpect-crew · 5 years ago

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Hi! If you're still doing session analyses, can you tell me what you think of a session with a Witch of Time, Mage of Space, Sylph of Life, and a Knight of Doom?

For sure! It’s 4/13, after all, so this is the perfect time to bring out the big guns for some session analysis. It appears you’ve got a pretty good team setup as far as power goes, but I will warn you that if these players aren’t closely in sync, things could go awry very quickly. It’s going to be of utmost importance to keep everyone’s head on straight.

As we’ve seen with our favorite canon Witch of Time, Damara, having such a powerful Class and Aspect combination can be either a ticket to victory, or a surefire way to massively doom your entire session by way of emotional catastrophe. Think about it this way: Witches aren’t often keen on doing what others want them to, at least once they’ve accepted their role. Their great power comes with great responsibility, and they aren’t well-known for bowing down to authority, so that self-discipline has to develop from within. Granted, this Classpect isn’t a death sentence for your session just because Damara managed to fuck shit up so spectacularly. After all, the main reason she went off the rails is because Meenah was doing her best to spur the team into action, and her attempts to strengthen them through constant bullying backfired. Rather, it’s up to the individual Witch—as well as their allies—to put the team down a path that will secure victory.

The Witch of Time is going to have an incredible amount of sway over the timelines themselves, being able to travel through time as easily as breathing. They’ll certainly be able to increase or decrease an entity’s lifespan at will, or manipulate the flow of time in ways that will give their team a humongous advantage in the endgame. Doomed timelines will seem quite arbitrary to the Witch, who may not fully understand—or care—about the consequences of creating them. After all, while the Witch is gifted with an insane amount of power over their Aspect, it’s all quite instinctual. They don’t fully understand the inner workings like a Mage would, therefore their abilities will likely remain limited in their scope as far as creativity goes. You likely wouldn’t find a Witch of Time theorizing about timelines resembling musical staves and trying to combine them in harmony for some sort of metamagical feat, for example. That’s closer to the Mage’s domain. I analyzed the Witch of Time briefly here, almost exactly one year ago.

On the opposite side of the coin, you have the Mage of Space, which I’ve briefly discussed here. This is another very powerful Classpect, but for reasons quite different than the Witch of Time. The Witch/Mage opposite pair is defined thusly: Change/Manipulate versus Know/Understand. While a Witch can use their Aspect to create devastating effects, they lack the ability to understand its inner workings, which keeps them from using it in more creative ways. The Mage, on the other hand, isn’t going to inherit the game-breaking power of a Witch. Rather, their power comes from studying and understanding their Aspect inside and out. The Mage isn’t going to be surprised by the revelation that the purpose of frog-breeding is quite literally tied to the creation of the new universe. After all, this was all part of a theory they’ve been formulating since reaching their planet.

Having a Mage of Space in particular means your team is going to have a very clear shot toward victory, so long as you keep the Mage from doing something insanely reckless. This mostly depends on the Mage, since some are quite content to use their knowledge to benefit their team’s ultimate goals, but others will try to go off on their own if they feel their team is dragging them down. When the endgame hits, though, your Mage of Space will no doubt be a powerhouse, capable of an incredible array of utility-based feats. Need a place to recuperate mid-battle? Don’t worry, the Mage has pocket dimensions on speed dial. Think of it like a D&D Wizard using Rope Trick. When you fully understand how to shape and fold the fabric of spacetime, suddenly beating the Black King seems like child’s play.

One of the biggest indicators that your team can succeed is your Sylph of Life. As your team’s healer, and a powerful one at that, they’ll be tasked with ensuring your team stays buddy-buddy with existence. After all, the Aspect of Life isn’t just about health and vitality: it’s also about securing one’s ability to impact the universe. It’s not quite the same as relevance, since that’s part of Light’s domain. One doesn’t need to be relevant to have an impact, even from the shadows. In this way, your Sylph will also be your biggest cheerleader, making sure everyone has an impact on the path toward the Ultimate Reward. They’ll also be your go-to when team morale dips low, since they’ve got a hundred and one ways to get people feeling optimistic again.

Life players are insanely durable. Death rarely finds them, and in the odd case that it does, it simply doesn’t stick for long. A Sylph of Life would keep the team alive, but they would only be able to do so as long as the teammate in question is able to make further impact in a way that’s sanctioned by the universe. Think of it this way: when a God Tier dies a Heroic or Just death, they do so because their impact on the universe has come to an end. A Heroic death passes the torch onto the survivors, while a Just death ends the monopoly of influence that the person holds at the expense of others. Therefore, unlike the Maid of Life’s limit of one resurrection per person, regardless of past or future impact, the Sylph of Life would more or less be able to resurrect at will, though they wouldn’t be able to bring someone back from beyond a Heroic or Just death, and other limitations may apply. (Note: this is all theory on my part, since we’ve never seen this Classpect in canon. Because the Sylph is a Passive Class, though, it stands to reason that their Aspect would influence them, rather than having control over it. Therefore, their ability to bring entities back from the dead would be subject to the universe’s balance of influence regarding Heroic and Just deaths.)

Finally, we’ve reached the Knight of Doom. This one’s going to be a player to look out for and watch carefully. From the very onset, Knights have a way of masking their true feelings and intentions, putting up a mask to shield the more vulnerable parts of themselves. For a Knight of Doom in particular, this can be incredibly dangerous. Doom players have a tendency toward depression and anxiety by virtue of their Aspect’s influence over them. Thankfully, since the Knight is an Active Class, and a very scrappy one, they’ll likely be able to push through their own troubling thoughts, and can even use them to their own advantage. As one who weaponizes Doom, they’ll have a very good understanding of bending rules to meet their needs, exploiting loopholes and restrictions to support their end goal. They may also excel at hacking or programming in general, which will assist them in exploiting the rules of the game and the universe itself.

Look to your Knight to bypass the most difficult restrictions and open up the weak points in the game to devastating ends. They’ll be the one to ask when a seemingly insurmountable obstacle appears. Chances are, they’ll have at least five backup plans tucked away. They know how to game the system better than anyone, and when “the system” involves the entire multiverse, you’re looking at someone with a lot of game-changing power. The biggest risk you face by having a Knight of Doom at your side is the double-whammy of a Knight’s self-flagellation and a Doom player’s affinity for great power at the cost of great sacrifice. Your Knight will try their best to be the self-deprecating hero. They won’t just jump on the grenade: rather, they are the grenade, ready to sacrifice their life for a chance at victory. Don’t let them play the martyr until your team is good and ready to take full advantage of the massive effect their demise will cause. This should only be taken as a last resort, when shit truly hits the fan and victory is impossible without it.

All in all, you have a very solid chance of winning with this team, as small as it is, but team cohesiveness is of utmost importance, especially since there’s no Blood player to keep everyone working together. Still, as we’ve seen with the Beta Kids, sometimes the power of friendship can arise from within. Keep them focused toward the goal, make sure you take full advantage of their powerful Classpects, and you’ve got yourself a one-way ticket to a brand-new universe.

#classpect #homestuck #classpect analysis #knight #doom #knight of doom #mage #space #mage of space #sylph #life #sylph of life #witch #time #witch of time #anonymous #Anonymous

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art-thropologist · 4 years ago

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Portfolio of Recovery Part 3

If you’ve been following my entries, you’ll know that I recently had to go through some medical treatment. I am at a point now where I am willing to share some of the products of the art therapy that went along with that process. With each piece I’ll explain the prompt or the intention behind it and how I interpret the visual cues.

Please note that I will be talking about eating disorder behaviors, body image, and trauma. I use vague terms, but if these are triggering topics, then do not read. If you are in need of help with an ED, NEDA can get you support.

“Living Room Table” (2020). Poster-board, string, sequins, ripped magazine, yarn, tissue paper, glue, and oil pastel. Prompted.

“What is creativity?”

I usually take a while to wrap my head around prompts. But this one I went ‘I got this’ with zero hesitation. At the house I grew up in we had a low wood table in the living room. It was where we had to do any and all crafts in the house because that was a way to contain the chaos that was my sister and I. We left our marks on that table: glitter, yarn, burn marks. This is that table. This is where creativity happened.

“Untitled” (2020). Ripped magazine, glue, on canvas board. Prompted.

“Make a rip collage.”

I decided to try a different type of collage by weaving the pieces together. I think it worked.

“Shell study” (2019). Watercolor and crayon on paper. Prompted.

“Choose an object from the basket and create something from being mindful of your interaction with it.”

I chose a shell and spent 40 minutes trying to recreate the coloring on the inner lip.

“Strong Enough” (2019). Colored pencil on paper. Unprompted.

I was told by the art therapist that I should try experimenting outside of my usual style (Which you can see the first sketches of still). So I tried a more figural style. The title references the lyrics from “Eight” by Sleeping At Last; I was just a kid who grew up strong enough to pick this armor up and suddenly it fit. It resonated with me because that was what my childhood felt like. I tried to represent that with the figures surrounding the hollow form that is me in the present. Like the Timeline, the colors correspond to emotional stages. Blue is hopeful as an open sky, elementary school. Grey seeped into my chest as I start building up armor to protect myself from that hurt. Green is middle school when I started using clothing to make myself pretty. I thought that if I was pretty then the bullying and torment would stop. Given that this figure is crying, clearly that wasn’t the case. Red is anger, and I used lacrosse as a way to make myself more intimidating, tell of a target, less vulnerable. But I wasn’t confident at all, that’s why the posture is closed off, hesitant. Finally is the stage where my ED was in full control. It was the armor I was conditioned into believing would help, would make me perfect, better. But it was just protecting the trauma, not healing it.

I’m all in, arms out. I’m at your mercy now and I’m ready to begin. Show me how to lay my soul down long enough to let you IN. is another (misquoted) lyric from “Eight” and is representative of the present moment. I am deconstructing all the armors I’ve put on and get better.

“Promises” & “Reality” (2020). Oil pastel on canvas board. Prompted.

“What did your ED promise you and What did it actually give you?”

I was that girl in health class that thought ‘That would never be me’ when it came to an eating disorder. Well...I was wrong. Ana (what I call my ED) is deceptively kind. She lures you in with promises of control and exceptionalism. ‘If you can control your hunger then you are better than other people’ and other promises just like it. I thought if I was thinner that I would be prettier and it would be easier to like myself. Ana promised a brighter future, she promised fulfillment.

Ana lies. I became a ghost of myself. Frail. Weak. Breaking down. The white figure is my own body collapsing; arms thrown forward in submission, hair covering my face. I had nothing more to give other than tears and sadness. i was still alone. I was still hurting. On top of the emotional distress was physical distress. My body was, essentially, eating itself to survive. I had headaches that lasted for days, dizzy spells that left me on the floor (see the radiating red halo), a body that had one foot in the grave (which I represent with the brown-black background).

“Shattered Glass” (2020). Tissue paper, oil pastel, and pencil on paper. Unprompted.

I often feel like I’m nothing but pieces of jagged glass. Broken. Sharp edges. There is still color and beauty in that. It’s how we make stained glass and mosaics after all. But I also carry a lot of hurt and trauma to get that way. I went with the obvious Atlas metaphor. Braids being pulled. Tears. People constantly watching. People constantly leaving, again and again. Being shunned for things out of my control. Struggles with faith. Bearing the name ‘Bitter Little Bird’. I’m learning how to lay those burdens to rest. It is a process.

“Outline Self Portrait” (2020). Colored pencil on paper. Prompted.

We were given the outline of a person and told to fill it in how we wanted about body image.

The colors are familiar by now. Purple for justice and hope. Orange for creativity. Red for anger. Blue and Green for growth. My head is always a mess of all these feelings, that’s why it looks like that. the stronger lines indicate where I feel the emotions. It’s usually a tightness or an ache.

I remember being that kid - who was small. Who wanted to run before I could crawl. That changed with the start of an education in Shame. It started with my name. I was always caught between being seen and hiding Away. Maybe it was just easier to be nothing than to be something wrong. I was just a kid who had to wear this Armor too long. So I kept these shattered pieces inside a thick skin. It can tear me up inside but, no, I wont let you In. I’ll keep these bits of broken Hopes Inside of this chaotic body. I’ll rage inside my Skull if this is the way to cope. I sill sing the songs when I am ready to be. And shine myself not for you to see. This Lux Aurora in lead lines.

“Untitled 1″ (2020). Colored pencil and pencil on paper. Unprompted.

I tried to reduce myself down to schematic pieces. Red lines to convey gestural forms, blue ribs. This was me when Ana was in control. I was blind. I was hollow. I was barely able to feel my heart beat. Most of all, I was exposed.

I added the lyrics of Words Fail from Dear Evan Hansen because they felt like they fit. “'Cause if I just believe/ Then I don't have to see what's really there/ Yes, I'd rather pretend I'm something better than these broken parts/ Pretend I'm something other than this mess that I am/ Because then no one gets to look at it/ And I don't have to look at it”

“Untitled 2″ (2020). Colored pencil and pencil on paper. Unprompted.

The pieces are a diptych. This side is recovery. The stance is open, embracing. But the back is turned; rejecting Ana. I used the same colors but attributed them to new facets. Instead of being blind I am now covered. My hair is growing again. The fundamental building blocks are still there, but I am no longer standing rigidly. I wanted to mirror Rebecca Belmore’s sister.

The poem “Ascending” is my own creation. “With arms outstretched/ Wide like wings, like a martyr/ I will fly beyond the confines of/ my Nature./ I can touch eternity with my fingertips”

Part 4 coming soon

#art-thropologist #a portfolio of recovery #art #my art #tw ed mention

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polkahotness · 4 years ago

Text

SHORTAKI WEEK, DAY 3

FFN // AO3

Satellite

"You're my satellite

You're riding with me tonight

Passenger side, lighting the sky, always the first star that I find

You're my satellite."

--'Satellite' by: Guster--

One year. Today marked an entire year of dating Helga and this time, I knew it was real. In fact, I knew within the first week of our dating that this relationship was the one that would end in marriage. In all the years that we'd known each other, Helga and I had engaged in a relationship at least a dozen different times. We were that couple that was always on and off again—neither of us ever truly giving our entire selves to the other with vulnerability and unyielding honesty.

All that changed a few years ago.

We had begun talking fairly regularly again—the two of us had always maintained a casual friendship, even despite our complicated romantic history. But one day, something inside of me wanted to reach out to Helga in a closer way; something beyond the occasional 'like' on a post she shared or a comment on a status she'd written.

That's right.

I slid into Helga's DMs.

At first, I think she was really shocked that it was me who had done the 'reaching out' part. Almost every other time since before our high school graduation, it had been her who had outstretched a line of communication towards me. After we graduated, though, she stopped trying. I supposed that was my own fault. I mean, how many times can someone reach out to another until they realized that they themselves were the ones holding the relationship together?

I guess that means that the old adage, "absence makes the heart grow fonder," is pretty accurate. At Helga's absence, I found that I missed her quick wit, poetic words, and frankly, her overly romantic gestures. I missed her love because, at age twenty, I finally admitted to myself that I wanted to and was ready to fully love her back. Love her to the fullest extent.

Fast-forward a few years from that initial first message on my part, and you'd wind up here, at Chez Paris, one year ago. We'd met up to talk and hang out countless times in our last few years of regular conversation and friendship, but this time was different. I had specifically asked her out to dinner at a restaurant that was much more expensive than we typically went to. I'm sure Helga knew that something was up, but then again, maybe I caught her off guard.

Trapped on a public dinner date with me, I exposed my every feeling. I explained how I really was as dense as she had always told me I was because it took me nearly two decades to come to terms with my feelings for her. I told her that each time we dated, I knew that I was holding back the inner devotion that I felt towards her—this bond, this connection that I could never shake, not even when we were children back at P.S. 118. I expressed that for me, it had always been Helga; even though I didn't realize it at the time. The desire I felt to reach the true Helga that hid behind the guise of a bully was really just my heart trying to get to it's other half.

Then I went on blathering about how she was never an enemy, or an acquaintance, or even just a friend to me. That she was my soulmate. I listed off countless times that it had been Helga who had saved my skin from a bad situation, impending trouble, myself, or even the depths of the jungles and the evil river pirates who dominated them. I called her an angel—always there, always protecting me, always thinking of me and always loving me. I said I'd taken her for granted.

After I finished the long speech that I had rehearsed over a hundred different times throughout the last week, I took Helga's hand from across the table. It was the kind of touch that we hadn't shared in years, and I can only speak for myself in the fact that it sent a jolt of electricity throughout my body. It was like fireworks before the kiss.

That was when Helga dropped the bomb of the century.

She went on to talk about the extent of her feelings for me. Suddenly, Helga was purging all of these things she had done out of adoration for me and moments we had shared that I'd never known were her doing all along. Towards the end of her long string of stories, she admitted that us being at Chez Paris was ironic—the two of us having shared one of the most special moments of her life here.

Naturally, I thought she was talking about the time she brought Gerald, Phoebe, and myself here in mistaking it for Chez Pierre, which ended in a night filled with way too much food, cockroaches, and a stack of dirty dishes taller than the two of us combined. However, it wasn't this night that Helga was referring to—it was a night long before that, a night that my young mind had never forgotten and never believed would be resolved.

Especially not by Helga G. Pataki.

That night was the night that sealed our fate. By the two of us baring our souls to one another in a fashion that neither of us had ever done, it was like this key had unlocked the two of us so we could finally reach each other. It was as though our entire lives, there we were, stuck in two jail cells that were right next door. We could hear each other and see each other, but we could never truly reach each other.

Our year together had been perfect. Sure, there were a few hiccups of arguments that weren't worth having, but overall, our first year had gone by without a hitch. We'd moved into an apartment together and had talked about looking for a house within the next few years. She was a regular at Sunset Arms when I'd visit and my family—both biological and chosen—had accepted her as one of their own. My parents loved her.

And I loved her.

For our big anniversary, I decided to take her once again to Chez Paris—a place that seemed to be a fixture in our lives; a hub where we always connected on a different level. It may have been expensive, but it was always worth every penny, but not for the food. The conversations and moments that were shared between us while there were the meals that really satiated me; they satiated my soul.

We'd chosen to walk to the restaurant. It had been a nearly perfect autumn day and the walk was a pleasant one; a soft breeze propelling us onward for our upcoming reservation. Once inside, we took the spot that we usually sat in—a corner towards the back of the restaurant that offered a bit of privacy other parts of the eatery didn't have.

All throughout the dinner, I couldn't help but stare at Helga. She looked so beautiful with the way her golden hair framed her face. On her face was just the hint of make-up; a gentle sparkle catching my eye every so often when she'd turn her head just right. The blue of her eyes was so deep that I could have drowned in them as she looked at me and her voice, her laughter, resounded in my ears like a melody I couldn't shake.

The woman that sat in front of me was just that: a woman. Helga had grown up to be an elegant, graceful albeit feisty woman with a wit so fast one could hardly keep up. She was clever and wickedly smart—smarter than her sister, who may have had the book-smarts down but lacked that of the street-smarts which Helga possessed. Everything that sat before me was what I had never anticipated Helga to become, not because she was incapable, but because I was incapable.

Until recently, I had been unable and possibly unwilling to see how incredible Helga had grown into, yet had always been. Though the unibrow was gone along with her bow and pink dress, Helga was still there, only wiser and more mature. She'd blossomed into a flower that I'd never expected to bloom so effortlessly. Each part of her was intoxicating, a scent that I would spend eternities entertaining and indulging in.

My year with Helga had really opened up a different side of me.

It's funny what admitting your true feelings can do—Helga was onto something with that, even when we were only nine. A year with my feelings out in the open, and actively out in the open at that… well let's just say that it had certainly evoked the poet inside of me that Helga had been molding since we were children.

It was her love and those confessions of hers that had planted the seed of a romantic.

"One whole year together," I stated when our waiter came by to take our empty plates away from the table. "It feels like it's been a lot longer."

Taking a sip from her water glass, Helga set it down before swallowing and saying with a smile, "Yeah well we've kinda known each other since before we can remember. You really could say that we've been together for much longer."

"Do you also find it weird to think that we used to be so young?" I asked as Helga eyed me curiously at the question I posed. "I mean, I look at you as Helga, but every once in a while, I see glimpses of Helga… The angry, mean girl with the pink bow and her not-so-secret crush."

Without missing a beat, she responded, "Eh. To me, you'll always just be some twerpy, football-headed sap." I frowned at this; the hint of sneer tugging at Helga's lips before she added, "But at least now you're MY twerpy, football-headed sap."

"Sap?" I repeated in surprise. "I was never a sap, Helga. If anyone is the sap in this relationship, it's you." Even after my explanation, Helga merely looked at me through a deadpan. After a few seconds without response, I said blankly while giving her a bored look, "You were in love with me."

"I am in love with you," she stated matter-of-factly.

"And I'm in love with you, but that's not what's up for debate right now, is it?"

A long pause followed my utterance and I watched Helga carefully as the faintest of smiles played on her lips. Our eyes were locked on each other—a silent stare-off occurring from either side of the restaurant table. After about a minute of this, I engaged in trying once more to illustrate my point. "Now. Can you honestly say that you weren't the sappiest one out of two of us? Think of how many dramatic and intensely-romantic confessions you've given me over the years."

She seemed to think this over briefly; her eyes shifting upwards as if looking at the ceiling would conjure the memories of her each and every display of feelings she'd given me throughout our lives together.

Holding out her hands, she began to list off moments of our history together on each of her fingers as though they were the capitals to states that she'd had to memorize for a test. "The FTi roof. The crows nest on the boat to San Lorenzo. Oh! There was that time that I confessed everything to you on a voicemail at the boarding house while I was high on laughing gas—"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Nothing," she quickly dismissed and soon moved on with her thought process without giving me a chance to interrogate her further on what she had so casually just mentioned. "In 6th grade there was another one… that time I told you that I wanted to be with you in the official sense, but you had been apparently 'under the impression' that we were already dating."

"That's because we were already dating."

"Well, that's debatable," Helga retorted with a scoff before yet again moving on too quickly for either of us to linger on the details. "Then there was that confession our Junior year. That one was fun."

"Fun? Helga, you're crazy," I told her as the waiter stopped by our table to set down the leather pocketbook that held the bill for our dinner inside. Nodding to him, I reached out to take it while continuing with my sentiment towards what Helga had brought up. "You cornered me at Rhonda's 'Summer Beach Spectacular' party and proceeded to drag me into a closet."

"I did not drag, I invited you—"

"Helga, you grabbed my wrist and demanded that I follow you by yanking me into the mansion. I spilled my punch." I recounted as Helga simply laughed at the memory.

"You were wearing swimming trunks, Arnold. What, your skin not waterproof?" She teased, and I ignored her to go on with my story.

"And when you slammed the door to keep the two of us crammed inside that closet, you slammed it so hard that the doorknob fell off," I reminded her, a light blush coloring the pale flesh of Helga's cheeks as I kept on with the events from years ago. "Of course, you didn't realize that the doorknob had fallen off until after you had given your big confession, which meant that we were trapped in there with our teenage shame until the party ended nearly three hours later."

As if offering me some kind of consolation prize for the traumatic incident, Helga muttered, "At least we didn't die in there, seeing as Eugene had brought a coat to a summer party for some unknown reason."

Opening the billfold to reveal our check, I reached into the pocket of my pants for my wallet and plucked out my credit card. "I think it had something to do with a sunburn," I mumbled while sliding the plastic card into the appropriate slot and closing the billfold. Within moments, our waiter was at our table to collect it so he could run my card and pay for our dinner.

After the waiter had left with my card, Helga held up one hand with her fingers proudly splayed. "Well, if my fingers are correct, that equals a total of only five confessions." She then wiggled her fingers individually while playfully saying, "Read 'em and weep, Hair Boy."

"Why am I weeping, again?" I wondered while gesturing towards the hand she was holding up. "That's four more confessions than I've ever given."

"Ahh, but that one confession happened exactly a year ago, didn't it?" Helga taunted, her mockery going on to say, "and boy, was it a DOOZY!"

Knowing exactly where she was headed with this, my smile faded as I said without emotion, "Helga..."

"You took me out to dinner," she began to tell me as though I had forgotten the events of that day. As if I ever could. "You took me here, to Chez Paris. Little did you know at the time that it was here that we technically had our very first date when we were only nine."

"Okay, you cannot continue to claim that that was a date, Helga," I defended with a slight shake of my head and a narrowing of my eyes. "You gaslit me until we were in our twenties that the 'Cecile' I met that Valentine's Day was some mystery girl that I would never, ever find again."

The waiter soon returned with the familiar leather billfold and a pen which he handed to me for my signature. Taking it, I once again offered him a thankful nod of my head while setting it down and opening it to take out the receipt I needed to sign. Just as I clicked the pen in preparation to endorse the paper, Helga spoke softly.

"You didn't need to find her," she said just above a whisper. "She was around."

A smile spread across my face and I set the pen down so I could reach across the table and take Helga's hand into my own. "I know. You've always been there."

For a moment, the both of us shared a look that was filled with love and adoration that could be unmatched by even the most famous of lovers. It was a look of sincerity, of mutual devotion that could power entire cities with the energy of it. I allowed us to linger in this gaze for a long while before I at last broke eye contact and slowly slid my hand away from Helga's to pick up the pen that I had previously been holding.

Just as the pen returned to my grip, I pulled the receipt closer to me so I could begin signing my signature. As I did so, I said in a firm, yet mocking tone, "It's because you stalked me all throughout elementary school. You were a stalker, Helga. Of course, you've always been there."

Catching onto my humor, Helga gave a lackluster defense. "Okay, true, but at least I told you about it."

"Last year!" I exclaimed mid-laugh as I finished signing my name and set the receipt back into the leather pocketbook. "You can say that my confession was top notch all you want, but it was your addition; your confession-that-you-don't-consider-a-confession, that was the real confession."

Not buying my argument, Helga leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. "It wasn't a confession; it was a response." At my confused stare, Helga soon added, "A confession is in the initiation."

Eyeing her skeptically, I mirrored her pose while asking, "And what does that mean, exactly?"

Unfolding her arms, Helga sat up straight for a second before leaning in towards me over the table and speaking softly as though divulging some kind of salacious secret. "You know. Like if we were in a movie or something, there would be an orchestration lead up that blooms with—you guessed it—a confession." She then leaned up to sit with perfect posture and said confidently, "And since it was you who initiated it with that whole bit about me being a fixture in your life and the universe pushing us together and you were tired of not being with me—"

My mouth curled up into a grin as I interrupted her to state rather than ask, "You remember it in verbatim, don't you?"

"Unimportant," she said instantaneously before continuing as though I hadn't disrupted her at all. "You see, that confession was the bloom of the metaphorical score! My response, as sappy and romantic as it was, doesn't count because it happened during the cool-down of the music. Do you see what I'm saying? It's in the music, Arnoldo."

"The music that isn't real," I described as Helga nodded her head without thought at how ridiculous the notion sounded.

"Right."

"Okay," I let her have the win so I could come in with, what I had hoped would be the final word on what started this entire conversation. "But you do realize that you just admitted you were sappy. Just now, you said that."

Without so much as a blink, Helga responded, "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did," I argued before leaning forward myself to tell her from across the table, "You said, and I quote, 'my response, as sappy and romantic as it was…'" I waited for acknowledgement at what I'd so perfectly played as if we were each showing our final hands in a wild game of poker. "By saying that, you admit that you are, indeed, sappy."

Not giving me any satisfaction in my obvious victory, Helga shrugged her shoulders calmly. "Sure. I'll admit that. I'm sappy."

Once again, I waited for my big 'gotchya!' moment, but it never came. After a few beats of awkward silence, I decided to voice my victory. "So, I win then."

"Oh, ho, ho," Helga let out a laugh while waving her hands in front of herself to stop me. "Absolutely not, Shortman." Sensing my confusion, Helga explained herself. "You see, the debate was never if I was sappy. I think it's pretty obvious that I'm a sappy human being. Unfortunately for you, the original argument was who was the sappiest, and that, my sweet, good-hearted, football-headed love-god, that's you."

I looked at her incredulously at the statement she'd just given me complete with what may be one of the sappiest statements ever voiced aloud in a public place. "Oh, c'mon! All of that and it's somehow still me who's the sappiest?"

"You called me an angel," Helga reminded me.

Raising my brow, I reminded her of the words that she had just spoken. "And you just called me a love-god. Among other things."

The candle that flickered between us on the table at Chez Paris was the only movement around us. As we'd paid our bill, the waiter left us alone to sit and stare at one another in a staring contest that could go down as one of our most intense yet.

Finally, it was Helga who broke at long last to say, "Alright. So, maybe we're both sappy. I'm really sappy and you're super sappy, but neither of us is more sappy than the other." She waited momentarily to be sure my facial expression told her that I understood what she was saying. Just to be sure, Helga verbalized, "You got that bucko?"

With a satisfied smile and a softening of my gaze, I simply said, "Whatever you say, Helga."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time we left the restaurant, the sky had deepened into a soft navy-blue. The light from the moon above helped to light the cement of the sidewalk we followed in the direction of our apartment complex that was located only a few blocks down the road.

With Helga's arm wrapped securely in mine as though I were escorting her somewhere important, both her mind and eyes were far away—her attention fixated upward on the night sky and the pinholes of light that rained down on us in a drizzle of illumination.

"I think if I hadn't gotten into writing, I might have liked to be an astronomer," Helga noted while continuing to look up passed the roofs of the many buildings that made up Hillwood. "I always thought that stars were fascinating."

"Why is that?" I questioned while glancing over to her, though she didn't turn to look my way as she answered.

"I don't know," she mused while concentrating on articulating whatever it was that she felt when looking up and out towards space. "I guess I just think it's kinda neat how there are potentially billions of stars we can't even see because they're so far away that their light hasn't even hit us yet." She shook her head at the concept before blinking her attention away. "That's just crazy."

"Are you saying that your mission, if you were an astronomer, would be to try and discover the stars that were so far away, light itself hasn't even caught up to us yet?" I assumed, and Helga sighed as though unsatisfied with my interpretation of what she'd told me.

"I'd just like to get a closer view," she said. "They're so far away. They're out of touch. Don't you think that stars like attention too?"

"I think that stars are just stars," I replied flatly. "They're just really hot balls of gas that emit light."

"Maybe in the scientifical sense they are," Helga stopped us from continuing our walk and turned to face me. "Just be that dumb, dreamy footballhead that we all know and love for two seconds here, okay?"

At her instruction, I huffed out a breath and grinned while shutting my eyes and trying to follow what Helga was saying. "Okay. I'm ready."

"Imagine you're a star," she told me as I envisioned myself floating out in a vast abyss of space just above the Earth below. "Imagine all the other stars that are around you, all while knowing that you are just one of many, many, many, immeasurable amounts of stars. Kind of like people on the Earth or grains of sand."

"Okay…"

"And there you are," she went on in a soothing voice, "floating out there in space while all your other friends shine brighter than you because they're just a little bit closer to the action than you are. But that doesn't mean you don't exist, right? You still want to be seen, to… to spread your light and brighten some little kid's life with a wish or whatever."

Opening one of my eyes, I looked at Helga with a tiny upturn of my lips, "Is that how wishes work, then, Miss Astronomer?"

"Shut it," she insisted before returning to entwine her arm with mine and pulled me to follow her in our walk home. "I just would want to see them. Hell, I'd be happy at this point if I could see the stars we can see with the naked eye."

"What do you mean?" I wondered aloud and Helga gestured up to the buildings that surrounded us.

"All these tall skyscrapers… they're in the way." She noted while letting out a heavy sigh. "I wish we could just… demolish them all for a second so we could see the sky."

Triggering a memory that I'd all but forgotten, an idea popped into my head. Moving to unfurl our arms and instead take Helga's hand, I began pulling her to follow me off course from the direction of our apartment. Without so much as a question, Helga followed blindly behind me; her trust in me so strong that it didn't matter where it was that we were headed. As Gerald had once told me years ago on a bus to nowhere: the journey is the destination.

Approaching a tall and abandoned old building, I looked up towards the roof as Helga stared at me with a furrowed brow. "So, what's the plan, Maestro? Something here worth seeing?"

Pointing towards the structure, I said, "Do you remember when we went to the boarding house the other day for dinner?"

Lifting her shoulders for a moment, she soon dropped them while shaking her head. "I mean, I guess so. Why?"

"Ernie had mentioned that he had a big demolition project coming up on this block. And that—" I pointed up to the building once more, "—is the demolition project. This building is abandoned and…" I tugged at her arm as we made our way towards the door that had once been an entrance. "I happen to know that it's unlocked and has access to the roof."

Catching on to what I was suggesting, Helga beamed at me before nodding her head rapidly. "What are we waiting for?" She asked, and the two of us took off to enter the musty building and begin our ascent up the flights of stairs leading to the roof.

Reaching the last of the stairs, the both of us stood before a set of double-doors labeled, 'Roof Access, Authorized Personnel ONLY.' Throwing caution to the wind, we pushed on the long metal bar that acted as a doorknob and made our way onto the open rooftop that revealed the plethora of stars shining brightly above us.

Slowly, Helga walked across the length of the roof until she reached the edge where she rested her body against the cement railing while looking up. Following behind her, I too leaned against the wall prohibiting an accidental fall; my eyes focused on something far more beautiful than a starlit sky.

My line of vision consisted only of Helga as she stood marveling up at the stars while I marveled over her. The way her eyes twinkled up in wonder at the stars was a beauty that even the best of photographers could never capture in one image alone. That twinkle which lived in her sapphire eyes was a star of its own; reflecting back the light which rained down on her and bathed her silhouette in a pale beam of unfiltered light.

She was beautiful; a beauty that writers couldn't describe, and artists couldn't paint. Helga's was a beauty that radiated from the inside out, though her exterior may appear hard at first glance. I was mystified by her, intrigued by her, and completely entranced by her.

How could I have waited so long to allow myself to be so in love?

"You've always been a star to me," Helga said out of the blue, her words forcing me to return to the present as she spoke up to the sky; her words directed at me. "You were this one bright spot in my life while we were growing up, but you were always so… so unattainable. You seemed so far away from ever truly being mine, as much as I may have wanted."

I listened intently as she talked, my ears hungry for her every sentence that I hung upon.

"And then the trip to San Lorenzo happened," she recalled with a fond smile. "You felt closer after all of that. You were closer like how the brightest of all the stars in the sky is closest to the Earth. Your light shined so brilliantly, that you were always the first one I could find among all of the others. Even so… you still felt light-years away. Too far away. A distant dream that I desperately wanted to return to but knew that I never could."

"Helga—" I tried, though she held her hand up to stop me while continuing to speak to the stars, though delivering a message straight to me.

"As we dated, and didn't date, merged from friends to enemies and back—"

"We were never enemies," I interrupted, and for the first time since she'd began talking, Helga turned to look at me from over her shoulder. "At least… not to me. I never saw you as an enemy."

Taking a beat to process what I'd said, Helga set her sights back on the sky to follow through with her thoughts. "You were still always there," she explained as if I hadn't spoken at all. "You were always shining—the brightest star in the sky. It wasn't until we started talking again a few years ago that I realized you were never a star."

Caught completely off-guard, I asked, "Is that an insult?"

"No," Helga cooly said as she pushed herself away from the cement wall and turned to face me full-on. "Absolutely not. You weren't a star because you were a satellite. My own, personal satellite." She took a few steps towards me as she went on. "You were always there, right by my side, through thick and thin. Even when we weren't together, you were still around. It's just that you were a little... well, a little out of reach."

Outstretching my arm to offer Helga my hand, she took it without hesitation and at last allowed me to voice my thoughts in response to what she'd said. "I hope you don't feel like I'm out of reach anymore," I told her thoughtfully while pulling her into my embrace and looking deeply into her crystal-cool pools of blue. "I'll always be right here. You don't have to see me as some faraway light in the sky, anymore."

"I know," she responded while resting her hands up on either of my shoulders. At her touch, my hands instinctively moved to gently take up residence on her waist. "You finally came down to Earth and out of that giant, freakishly-shaped head of yours. And for that… I love you, Arnold."

My left hand raised from her waist to softly brush my fingers against her cheek; Helga's eyes fluttering closed as she nestled into my touch. "I love you too, Helga."

We remained like this, basking in each other under the tranquility of the moon's delicate lighting for a good minute. After allowing myself to get lost in all that is Helga, I dropped my hand from her face which in turn cued her to open her eyes and look at me with silent confusion.

"So, a satellite, huh?" I repeated her description of me back to her as she looked up with me with an amused expression. "I'm just a satellite that revolves around you?"

"I'm your satellite too, football-face." Nodding in mock contempt at her nickname, Helga went further to say, "We... revolve around each other."

My eyes lit up at her observation. "I love that," I expressed while leaning in to lightly peck her lips. "And I love you," once again I dipped in to brush my lips against hers only to pull back and give her a sad, almost guilty look. "But I have to be the bad guy here and bring something to your attention."

Leaning away and taking a single step back from me, Helga folded her arms loosely across her chest. "Oh yeah? And what's that?" She was challenging me, and with an unruly grin, I merely lifted my hands to hold up six fingers.

"That, right there… the whole, 'satellite versus star' thing…" I shrugged my shoulders while wiggling my fingers one by one. "That was your sixth confession, so—"

"Arnold," Helga attempted to halt me, but I was already off and by all counts, unstoppable.

"—that means that you've officially given FIVE MORE—" I pressed on, my voice growing louder to try and talk over Helga who was trying to out-voice me with her own arguments.

"—that was not a confession, Hair Boy!" She guffawed, before reaching out to grab at my hands and push them down playfully as if it would silence me from my point.

It didn't.

"That's FIVE MORE confessions than me, Helga," I finalized with a confident raise of my brow. "Admit it. You're the sappiest. It's you."

Adding yet another stare-down to our anniversary night, this was one that would go down in the books as potentially the longest we had shared to date. I could tell from the way Helga glared at me that she didn't want to give up, she wasn't willing to give up, but a glint in her eye said otherwise. What had to be nearly three minutes of solid silence ended with a dramatic huff from Helga.

"Fine," she admitted with a tone of defeat, though her eyes kept their impish glimmer. "I'm the sappiest. Okay? Are you happy now, Arnold?"

Helga found her way back into my arms, her back resting against my chest as I enveloped her in my arms while we both gazed up at the stars. Planting a kiss on her head, I mumbled my answer into her silky, smooth hair.

"Blissfully."

#shortakiweek #shortaki week #shortaki #day 3 #satellite #heyarnold #hey arnold #hey arnold the jungle movie #tjm #the jungle movie #helga g pataki #helga x arnold #arnold shortman #fanfic #fanfiction

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

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Shitty neighbor bullies struggling immigrants for 15 years. Their kid gets revenge, and the shitty neighbor loses custody of her kid & is forced to move out of their house.

I'm sorry it's long, but I think it's worth it!

Spoiler alert: I'm the kid.

A bit of context first:

I'm an only child, born in the USA to older parents (they were both 45 when I was born) who immigrated from Venezuela in the 90's. When I was 2, my Dad was shot in the head. He lived for another 13 years, but the incident permanently damaged certain parts of his brain, and he was a completely different person for those last 13 years. He went from being the most loving, incredible, caring, compassionate person around, to an aggressive, violent, asshole who blew up over the smallest things, but only ever at his inner circle (me, my mother, or other close family). He always managed to keep his composure around strangers for fear of someone calling the police and him getting arrested, but he would later let it all out on my Mom and myself (admittedly mostly me). After the shooting, he could never work again, and my Mom was forced into the position of being the family's sole breadwinner. We lived in poverty for many, many years, because the USA wouldn't recognize her college degree and she couldn't afford to go to college again, so she couldn't work in her field and had to start "at the bottom of the ladder." Dad eventually died when I was 15, of issues related to his shooting.

Now, when I was 7, my parents decided to move into a town with a better reputation for their schools than the one we were currently living in, so that I could attend a better school. They bought a house literally on the edge of town. Most of this town is incredibly expensive, but because on the other side of our street (and across the town line) there's a big complex of government-subsidized housing, our area is much cheaper. This is the house with the asshole neighbor. The house is a three-family. For the last 16 years, we have owned and occupied the first floor, while the terrible neighbor lived on the second floor (until recently). The third floor has been occupied by over 10 owners and tenants over these years; None have stayed more than 3 or 4 years and some have stayed as little as a handful of months.

Now, the second floor bitch, let's call her "Karen." Because, obviously. She has a husband, who we'll call Bill, and they have a young son, Henry.

Here's the story:

When we moved in, Karen and Bill had already been here for a few short months. The three of us (us on the first floor, Karen and Bill on the second, and the original third floor's owners) bought the house from the same crew, who had bought it and turned it into a three-family, "fixing it up" in the process.

Karen quickly showed her true colors as a bully. Over the years, there's been countless examples of nasty shit she's pulled. Her husband, Bill, is an immigrant himself, and doesn't speak very good English. He's very submissive to her and does whatever she wants, but in front of other people makes himself out to be physically dominant. In our first years here, they used to fight a lot, which we regularly heard from downstairs. They would yell, sometimes for hours, and occasionally it seemed like things got violent. Henry was born maybe 10 years ago. He doesn't factor into the story until much later. But anyways, the point is: Whatever Karen's done, she's always gotten away with it. Here are some highlights:

My Mom always took pride in how well she took care of our trash bin & recycling bin. Every month she'd give them a quick rinse after that week's trash day, just to make sure that they wouldn't develop a smell or a colony of bacteria wouldn't move in. Karen, apparently, wasn't so diligent, and one time, her recycling been got really nasty. And I mean really nasty. So, she just left it out back (context: Behind the house isn't a backyard, it's just pavement with a parking spot designated for each unit), and began using ours. Lo and behold, ours started to get nasty, and Mom quickly went from spending a quick 3 minutes rinsing it out every month to about 45 minutes scrubbing with soap and water to clean it out. Eventually, we decided we'd had enough, and she and Dad sent Karen and the third-floor-tenants of the time a polite, but firm, e-mail, that basically said, "Whoever started using our recycling bin, please stop and use your own. You never asked our permission, and we take good care of it, and ever since you began using it it's become disgusting." We knew it was Karen and Bill, but Mom & Dad figured it was more polite without a call-out and they "didn't want to start anything." Within a week, 2 things happened: Karen & Bill got a brand-spanking new recycling bin, and one week we found ours had been mysteriously destroyed. Someone took a knife to it and cut it to pieces. We had no way of knowing who it was, but we had a pretty good feeling we knew exactly who it was. (Yes, we had to get a new one.) Because we had no evidence of who did it though, my parents didn't say anything about it.

Back when we could afford a car (we haven't had one since our first few years here), we used our parking space out back. Every time that Karen & Bill hosted a party (which back then was surprisingly frequently), they would toss their trash over their balcony "into the general vicinity of the trash & recycling bins out back," which is literally right next to our designated parking space. Most of the dents we had on our old '88 Toyota were from bottles thrown from the second floor balcony. We had windows break a couple times; Same deal. Each time it happened, my parents would politely go upstairs, knock on Karen & Bill's door, and respectfully ask them to stop throwing stuff over the balcony because "sometimes it accidentally hits our car." Each time they went and did that, Karen & Bill stopped, but they would do it again until they got caught during their next party. Again though, my parents never wanted to escalate the situation, so they never justified taking it further than knocking on her door and politely asking them to stop.

This is another example of Karen's utter shit behavior, but it's also relevant for the revenge part of the story, so I'm putting it after the bullet point section. Our basement is shared between all 3 units. Each unit has its designated space boxed out (kind of like office cubicles), and there's some designated "common area" in between. Years ago (maybe like 8 or 9), Karen and Bill completely filled their designated basement cubicle, so they just started piling shit all over the common area. Eventually, they developed this enormous pile of junk in front of Unit 1's (our unit) oil tank (for heating). My Mom & Dad never said anything because it happened over a long period of time and they didn't want to start a fight, and as far as I know none of the third floor folks ever said anything either, but it got to the point where she and her husband were taking up common area space that was easily twice the size of their designated cubicle.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that for many years my parents and I weren't great neighbors, either. We didn't bully anyone, but due to my Dad's condition, he could be triggered (ayyyyyyy) by seemingly anything, and suddenly he'd be in a rage and we'd all be yelling. I grew up in that generally chaotic environment, and, yeah, there were several times when the police were called to our house for noise disturbances. But we kept our shit to ourselves, and we were nothing but polite and respectful to all our neighbors, always.

That said, you can imagine that our first priority was always my Dad and his stability, and we had enough on our hands with that, so he & Mom always swallowed their pride and avoided doing anything to antagonize Karen, no matter how shitty her behavior got.

After my Dad died, I developed my own issues for a while, with mental health. Growing up in a constantly chaotic, violent, aggressive environment took its toll on me, and for a time I had deeply depressive tendencies. I struggled with suicidality for years, and eventually wound up graduating high school after 8 years of attending classes in some form or another. Similar to when my Dad was sick, I became my mother's top priority at that point, so again, Karen and Bill kept getting away with all her bullshit.

I got better though. Nowadays, I'm even off my psychiatric medication. I got my shit together and graduated high school, and even college. I have my Bachelor's, and I'm doing some postgrad stuff for a Master's. Most of the way has been paid for by scholarships. But, I recently decided that, as an adult now and therefore as someone with a little more say in things around the house than when I was a kid, I had had enough of watching Karen bully my parents, particularly my mother, for so many years. I want revenge.

Phase One of my plan was to ease my way into the adult, condo-administration dialogue. I began helping out more around the house -- as in, around the common area parts:

I single-handedly redid the back porch's flooring (it sounds like more than it is -- I just pulled out all the floorboards and nailed new ones in).

I replaced both storm doors (about 6 months apart) when each one began having problems (different kinds of problems, it doesn't matter what they were).

I also took care of some comparatively smaller things -- I weedwhacked out back for a couple hours, cut the grass out front a few times, and got up early so that I could beat everyone else to the shoveling every time it snowed one winter (not '18-'19, but '17-'18). I also began wheeling back everyone's recycling & trash bins after trash week every week, not just our own.

After the first 2 bullet point stuff, each time I sent out an e-mail to everyone in the condo to let them know that I had taken care of it, and that all I asked of the other 2 units was for them to reimburse me 1/3rd of the cost of materials, on their timetable, because of course I hadn't given them a heads-up so it was only fair that I allow them to pay me when they can. The smaller stuff from the last bullet point I obviously didn't need to announce, the idea was just that over time, the neighbors would see me taking more initiative in things and being more active, which would go on to justify me participating more in inter-condo politics. I also made a point to keep conversations to e-mails, so that there would be a written record of every interaction.

Phase Two of my plan ran pretty much concurrently to Phase One, but had an entirely different purpose and was overall entirely different: I began gathering evidence of everything I could.

I asked my Mom to track down all the old e-mails she & Dad had exchanged with the neighbors, documenting many instances that Karen & Bill had pulled shit

I went downstairs and took a video of Karen and Bill's shit all over the common area, particularly emphasizing all the highly flammable wooden and cardboard shit they had piled up in front of our oil tank.

I dug up and pored over the deed to our apartment, specifically the sections that detailed the rules around common areas and the limitations of our unit as compared to the others and vice versa.

To my utter joy, Mom & Dad never threw out that old recycling bin that Karen and/or Bill had knifed up, apparently because they just never knew what to do with it and never wanted anyone to ask questions. Naturally, I dug it up and took plenty of photos.

I did one other evidence-gathering thing that needs a bit more explanation: Karen & Bill are awful parents. Mom & I regularly hear the shit they do to Henry through the very thin ceiling we have here. I'm decidedly not going to go into detail because, even though I changed his name, he's still underage and I feel it would be disrespectful to him to do that, but let's say it crosses far into the realm of child abuse. This is a topic I'm particularly sensitive about because I grew up in a shitty situation myself, so believe me when I say this part is the most satisfying part of my revenge. Let's just say that every time I could hear shit through the ceiling, I took out my phone and started a recording until it stopped.

Finally, Phase Three of my plan was basically to bait Karen and/or Bill into a trap I set, that, as it turns out, would have humongous consequences (for them).

Mom & I have this old treadmill that we got for free. It's in the kitchen, and lately we've come to the conclusion that it just takes up a little too much space. We both use it a little, but not enough to justify keeping it. She wanted to toss it out, but I argued hard to keep it around, because I knew I could use it for this plan. It would be my only shot.

Remember how I mentioned we haven't had a car for years? Well, eventually, I convinced Mom to let me put the treadmill outside, in our parking space out back. I bought a large tarp to cover it with, so it would be protected from the rain, and I told her I'd start using it more if it was outside because it's nicer to do exercise in the fresh air.

I also sent out an e-mail to Karen, cc'd to Bill and the current third-floor-folks, asking her to move all the things in front of our oil tank in the basement "somewhere else." Despite the fact that those things had been there for many years, I justified addressing it now because I'm the one addressing it, and that's different from before because before I was a child and now I'm an adult who actively participates in the inter-condo dialogue. I asked her to because the way she currently had it set up is a safety hazard, and "I'm just following the rules." I further let her know that if she and Bill didn't take care of it within a handful of weeks, that I would have no choice but to take care of it myself. In the same e-mail, I let everyone know that I was putting our treadmill in our parking space out back, so that if anyone had any trouble with getting into their spot to please let me know. The same day I sent out the e-mail, I put the treadmill out back.

Now, I figured nothing was going to change from all the other e-mails I had sent about matters regarding the condo's administration, and nothing did: She and Bill never acknowledged anything. The current third-floor guy didn't want anything to do with going up against Karen, so he just thanked me for the heads-up about the treadmill and said nothing else.

It's also important to note here that my real reason for mentioning the treadmill in that e-mail wasn't "in case anyone has trouble getting into their parking spot." Needless to say, sure, a treadmill in a kitchen is pretty fucking big and obnoxious, but a treadmill off to the side of an automobile parking space isn't really big at all. Plus, I placed it in such a way that it wasn't in anyone's way, giving everyone ample room to maneuver around. It was just there, off to the side. The reason I mentioned the treadmill in that e-mail was to alert her to its presence, and perhaps associate it in her mind with my request for her to move all her shit in the basement.

I also began using it, at least three mornings a week. I timed it so that sometimes, Karen and Bill would run into me as they left to drive Henry to school. Every time I saw them, I waved and greeted, to ensure they'd notice me on the treadmill. Mom also used it a few times, but she wasn't part of my plan so I've no idea if she ever ran into them while on it.

Here's the other thing I did: I set up a video camera in our laundry basket. See, we have it permanently in the pantry, next to the pantry window that faces the back area. I buried it beneath clothing so that from outside you can't even see it, but I bought a few massive (memory storage wise, not physically) SD cards and kept the thing recording 24/7, with a timestamp.

For 2 weeks, nothing happened. The camera recorded nothing suspicious, and Karen & Bill didn't move their shit in the basement.

Their time was up, so one night, I got up at around 1AM when everyone else was asleep so nobody would hear me, and went downstairs to move their shit.

Reddit, I can't express to you how much I enjoyed this. I bought a GoPro, put it on my noggin, and carefully recorded the entire hour and a half of moving shit around. I took the enormous pile of junk in front of Mom & I's oil tank, and found a way to fit all of it into their designated storage cubicle. In the end, it was packed. I have mild OCD and I nearly had an orgasm at the end from how well organized (physically) everything was, so that everything was neatly packed together and all the space was used at maximum efficiency. It was glorious. Packed from floor to ceiling, and almost wall-to-wall all around. If you can just imagine one massive, near-perfect rectangular prism of junk, that's what I had created. It was a masterpiece. I was so proud. On the side the door was on, there was enough space to walk to either wall, but you couldn't move "into" it anywhere.

I got back upstairs to our apartment and couldn't sleep the rest of the night. I was beyond excited. I wound up watching Infinity War to prepare for Ant-Man and the Wasp's then-upcoming release. Ayyy.

Sure enough, Karen & Bill took the bait. I must've been at school or work when they first discovered the basement, because I never heard a thing about it. In hindsight, it's probably best I was out, even though I would've savored those angry shrieks like nothing ever before. In any case, within a few days, we discovered our treadmill destroyed. Similarly to the recycling bin of years past, it had been knifed up. I can imagine they probably wanted to straight-up take a hammer to it, but they didn't want to make much noise, so they wound up just tearing the thing apart with a really big and really sharp knife. They had seen that we were using it, and aside from our trash & recycling bins it was our only property that they had access to at that point (several years back I filled up the rest of the wall of our basement cubicle and installed a door with a lock, so our cubicle is now sealed off to everyone else but the others are open and anyone can enter), plus I can imagine destroying a $1000 treadmill is infinitely more tempting than a trash or recycling bin, so they went for it in retaliation for my stunt in the basement.

After moving their shit in the basement, I started timing my treadmill use differently so that I wouldn't run into them. As soon as I saw it after they destroyed it, I went straight to the camera I had set up in the pantry. It caught the whole thing. In true fashion of their relationship, Bill brandished an enormous knife and single-handedly destroyed the whole thing himself, while she stood next to him and seemingly ordered him to do it.

With that in hand, I called the police, reported the incident, told them that my mother and I felt threatened by their presence and we filed a restraining order against both Karen and Bill with the police that same day. I turned over all the evidence I had gathered of all their shit over the years, and I also turned over all the audio clips I had of Karen & Bill terrorizing Henry. I figured since it was all audio and no video, it wouldn't be enough to get him out of their care, but maybe it'd at least get the Department of Children & Families involved.

Karen & Bill immediately claimed that I had broke a bunch of their shit while moving it around in the basement (shit that they no doubt had broken themselves), so I offered my GoPro recordings as proof that I had not, in fact, broken any of their shit while moving it at all.

The restraining order a person is allowed to file with a police report is always temporary, but you can always petition the court to extend it. Once Mom & I did that, it was granted. At that point, Karen & Bill hadn't been legally allowed to go back home for about a week, and since it became a longer-term restraining order, they were basically not going to be allowed to live in their own home for several years, so they made the obvious choice to sell the house and move elsewhere. Needless to say, selling a house you're not allowed to be near is a difficult task, and moving all your stuff out of said house is even more difficult -- particularly when you have so much of it. They wound up coordinating the entire house's sale from afar, with their realtor being the only person who came around to show the house. Once it was time for them to move, some relatives of theirs came around and packed everything up and loaded it into a truck.

Also, I was right, based on my recordings alone Henry wasn't taken from their custody, but DCF did get involved. I heard from their family that came around to pack up their shit though that Karen & Bill did wind up losing custody of him. They didn't say much as to why, but they basically implied that the abuse ramped up a lot after everything went down between me and Karen & Bill (which is the only part I feel guilty about, but in the end I hope this is a situation where the end justifies the means), at which point DCF was already sniffing around, so they wound up losing custody of him anyways. I've no idea where Henry wound up, but wherever he is I obviously have nothing against him and I hope he winds up in a much better situation than he was.

Finally, I will say, for two such inordinately obtuse and disgusting human beings, they had surprisingly decent family members. The few times I ran into them and made small talk when they were around they were pretty apologetic about the whole thing. I got the impression that this isn't the first time they're apologizing on Karen & Bill's behalf. I hope Henry is taken in by one of them, and not chucked into the foster system. Here's hoping, kid.

(source) story by (/u/dorkofthesnorkelkind)

#prorevenge #by /u/dorkofthesnorkelkind #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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algaesway · 5 years ago

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第3章

Chapter 3. Spite: Part II.

Wei Wuxian wanted to wash his face to get a good look at this person who had kindly sacrificed themselves for him. However, there was no water in the room for either washing or drinking.

The only basin-shaped thing in the room was a chamber pot, which was hardly appropriate for cleansing one’s face.

He pushed at the door only to discover that it had been bolted shut from the outside. He supposed they didn’t want him to get out and start running around.

It seemed like the whole world was conspiring to deny him any joy of reincarnation!

Since there was nothing better to do, he sat down and crossed his legs to meditate and get used to this new body. Time passed quickly in meditation. When he opened his eyes, rays of sunlight were leaking in through the gaps around the door and the windows. Although Wei Wuxian had regained enough strength to get up and walk around, he still felt dazed and disoriented. Bewildered, he thought to himself: ‘Mo Xuanyu’s spiritual powers are low enough to be completely negligible, so steering his body shouldn’t be this hard. Why can’t I get it under control?’

Only when he heard a strange noise from his stomach did he realise that this had nothing to do with spiritual powers. This body was simply not used to abstaining from food, so it was incapacitated by hunger. Unless he’d manage to get out and forage for some food, he might just become the first demonic spirit in history to be reborn into a sacrificial vessel only to immediately die of starvation.

Wei Wuxian was just about to try thrusting through the door when he suddenly heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Someone kicked the door and barked: ‘Here’s your food!’

Despite shouting this, the person made no move to actually open the door. Wei Wuxian looked down to see a smaller door-within-a-door opening up. A set of small bowls had been set down on the other side.

The house-servant shouted: ‘Get a move on! Stop dawdling, eat up so I can take the bowls back!’

The inner door was a bit smaller than a dog flap - there was no way it would fit a person, but it could be used to deliver meals. He’d been given rice with two side dishes, all of which looked unpalatable.

Wei Wuxian stirred the chopsticks that had been stuck into the rice, allowing a wave of sentimentality to wash over him.

The Yiling Laozu had returned to the human realm only to be trampled on and chewed out. For his welcome banquet, he was served some cold and indelible leftovers. Yet he was supposed to bring on some reign of blood and terror, to ruthlessly massacre the whole clan without sparing a single hen? What a joke. He was like a tiger bullied by dogs after leaving his mountain, like a dragon deceived by a shrimp in shallow water, like a phoenix robbed of his feathers and turned into an ordinary rooster.

Outside the door, the house servant spoke again. This time, he sounded like an entirely different person, his voice softened by a smile: ‘A-Ding! Come here.’

From the distance, a girl’s bright and delicate voice asked: ‘A-Tong, are you on meal delivery duty again?’

‘Why else would I be hanging around this cursed place’, A-Tong scoffed.

A-Ding approached the door as she spoke: ‘All you have to do is to bring him one meal a day. You have plenty of opportunities to slack off without getting scolded for it. How can you complain it’s “cursed” while enjoying such a leisurely life! All the while I’m here slaving away all day long. I never have the time to go out to play.’

‘It’s not like delivering meals is my only job! And nobody is going out to play these days, with so many walking corpses around. Everyone is keeping their doors tightly locked and hiding inside’, A-Tong grumbled.

Wei Wuxian was crouching against the door, listening in while trying to eat with the mismatched chopsticks he’d been given.

It seemed that things had been getting pretty turbulent around the Mo manor recently. Walking corpses, as their name suggested, were dead people who had been re-animated. As far as transmuted corpses went, they were relatively weak and commonplace. They hardly posed a threat to the living, moving sluggishly and staring with lifeless eyes. Yet their mere presence was enough to terrify common people, not least because they emanated a nauseating stench of putrefaction.

Wei Wuxian, however, considered them his most loyal servants and obeisant puppets. The mere mention of them made him feel warm inside.

‘If you want to go out and play, all you have to do is to take me with you, and I’ll protect you’, A-Tong teased.

‘Really? You’ll protect me? Stop bragging. Am I supposed to believe that you could really beat back all those things outside?’ A-Ding said.

‘If I can’t beat them back, nobody can!’ A-Tong retorted angrily.

‘How can you be so sure that nobody can do it? Let me tell you something. I heard that the cultivators who arrived today are from an extremely illustrious clan! Madam is welcoming them in the reception hall now, and everyone from town is dying to get a look at them. Listen - can you hear how noisy it is out there? I don’t have time to bicker with you, I might be called in to help any moment now’.

Wei Wuxian listened with rapt attention. Sure enough, he could hear a din of loud voices drifting in from the east side of the house. After considering his options for a while, he got up and kicked the door hard. The latch snapped open with a satisfying clank.

The two servants, who had been busy making eyes and giggling at each other, screamed as the door suddenly flew open on them. Wei Wuxian threw out the bowl and the chopsticks he’d been holding and walked away without looking back. The sunlight was surprisingly bright, piercing his eyes and stabbing at his skin. He raised a hand over his face, shutting his eyes for a moment.

A-Tong, who had just shrieked in a voice even shriller than A-Ding’s, pulled himself together only to realise he’d let himself be frightened by the lunatic everyone felt entitled to bully. Emboldened, he decided this was an opportunity to regain the face he’d just lost. Leaping in front of Wei Wuxian, he shouted while waving wildly with his hands - as if scolding a dog - ‘Get back in! Get back in! Back where you came from! What do you think you’re doing, showing your face outside!’

This was worse than the treatment one would expect for a beggar or a fly. It seemed that this was how the servants of the Mo family normally treated Mo Xuanyu. He probably wouldn’t have put up any resistance, effectively allowing himself to be bullied without restraint. Wei Wuxian knocked A-Tong to the ground with a light kick and said with a smile: ‘Who do you think you are trying to humiliate here?’

With that, he walked off, following the din of lively voices. There was quite a crowd of people gathered in and around the eastern courtyard and the East Hall. As Wei Wuxian stepped into the courtyard, he could hear a woman’s voice ringing louder than the others: ‘There is a junior disciple in our family, too, with deep ties to the cultivation world….’

That must have been Madam Mo, trying to pull all the strings she possibly could to build bridges back to the cultivation clan. Wei Wuxian didn’t wait for her to finish speaking. Squeezing through the crowd of people to get inside the hall, he waved enthusiastically and said: ‘Coming, coming, here I am!’

A middle-aged lady was sitting in the hall, wearing extravagant clothes and giving off an air of carefully maintained gracefulness; there was no doubt that this was Madam Mo. She was seated next to her husband, and opposite her sat a group of boys who wore white robes and carried double-edged swords on their backs. A sudden spell of silence descended on the crowd at the appearance of an eccentric stranger with a messily painted face. Wei Wuxian pretended not to realise he was stealing the scene. ‘Who called me? I heard someone talking about a person with deep ties to the cultivation world. Surely that can only refer to myself!’ he said brazenly.

There was too much powder on Wei Wuxian’s face, and whenever he cracked a smile, some of it sprinkled off. One of the white-robed boys was clearly amused, and a small exhale of almost-laughter escaped his lips. The boy seated next to him, seemingly the leader of the group, didn’t find it funny. He gave the laughing boy a judgemental look, making him flinch and go quiet at once.

Following the noise, Wei Wuxian’s eyes scanned over the group, and he was startled by what he saw. He had assumed that the servant girl from before had just been exaggerating, but it turned out that these guests truly were from an ‘extremely illustrious’ sect.

The boys were wearing flowing, light-coloured robes with graceful sleeves and sashes. They were beautiful and possessed a cold aura of spiritual power. Just one glance at their uniforms was enough to know that they were disciples of the Gusu Lan sect. Not only that, they must have been connected to the Lan clan by blood, because they all wore white forehead ribbons embellished with cirrus cloud patterns.

The Lan clan’s motto was ‘righteousness and rectification’, and the implicit meaning of these forehead ribbons was ‘self-regulation’. The cirrus cloud was the Lan family crest, and wearing it was forbidden from those outside the clan. Visiting scholars and disciples from other families would wear a forehead ribbon without the crest. Seeing the Lan uniform gave Wei Wuxian a toothache. In his past life, he had often mocked this uniform for its resemblance to mourning clothes. There was no way he would mistake it.

Madam Mo hadn’t seen her nephew for quite a while, and it took her a long time to recover from her shock. After finally realising who this garish person coated in greasepaint was, she felt a flash of anger. Beside herself with fury, she whispered to her husband in a low voice: ‘Who let him out? Put him back immediately!’

Madam Mo’s husband forced himself to flash her an apologetic smile, but as he stood up, his face immediately darkened in anger. He was just about to grab the intruder and drag him out, when Wei Wuxian suddenly threw himself to the floor, making his limbs heavy on the ground. He became completely still, and even though servants were called in to push and pull at him, nobody could make him move. If only there hadn’t been guests around, they would probably have trampled him to death. Madam Mo’s husband glanced at her face, which was becoming increasingly twisted with anger, and started sweating profusely. He shouted: ‘You damned madman! If you don’t get out of here at once, I’ll teach you a lesson!’

Even though everyone at the Mo manor was well aware that there was a lunatic in the family, Mo Xuanyu had secluded himself in his gloomy room for years, too afraid to see anyone. Seeing him suddenly emerge from the shadows, looking like a wicked ghost in his heavy make-up, raised furious whispers all around him; people were expecting some kind of a spectacle.

Wei Wuxian said: ‘Fine, I can go.’ Pointing his finger at Mo Ziyuan, he continued: ‘Just tell him to return the things he stole from me before’.

Mo Ziyuan was stunned by the nerve of this lunatic. He’d been taught a lesson only yesterday, yet he had the gall to barge in here today. His face grew pale and then red. ‘You’re talking rubbish! When exactly have I stolen your things? What use would I even have for your things?’

‘Right, right, right! You didn’t steal them, you pilfered them!’ said Wei Wuxian.

Madam Mo had a moment of realisation. Mo Xuanyu had clearly come prepared for a fight, his mind completely lucid. He was trying to humiliate them on purpose. Suddenly overwhelmed by anger, she shouted: ‘You came here on purpose just to make a scene, didn’t you?’

‘He’s stolen and pilfered my things, I just came to get them back. Can that really be called making a scene?’

Madam Mo didn’t have a response at the ready, but Mo Ziyuan was quicker, lifting his leg to stomp on Mo Xuanyu. At that moment, one of the white-robed boys with a sword on his back made a tiny gesture with his finger. Mo Ziyuan lost his balance, his leg suddenly stumbling at nothing, and he fell down on himself. Regardless, Wei Wuxian rolled over on the ground, pretending as if he’d really been trampled on. He pulled the front of his robe open, showing everyone the footprint on his chest that had really been inflicted by Mo Ziyuan the previous day.

The onlookers were enthusiastically following the drama. There was simply no way Mo Xuanyu could have kicked himself on the chest. Yet he was one of their own blood! How could this family be so ruthless? It was clear that his insanity hadn’t been this severe when he’d first returned. The more his family mistreated him, the more deranged he had become. In any case, it was a good show. In fact, it was even more entertaining than the visiting cultivators!

With so many pairs of eyes fixed on them, Madam Mo could neither hit Mo Xuanyu or shove him out. She could only swallow her indignation and attempt to force a bland compromise: ‘You talk of stealing and pilfering? Such vulgar words. When it’s between family members, couldn’t you just look at it as borrowing? A-Yuan is your little brother, can’t you let him take a few of your things? As an older brother, how can you be so petty? You’re making a fool of yourself, throwing a childish tantrum over a trifle like this. It’s not as if he wouldn’t return your things to you later.’

The white-robed boys looked at each other at a loss. One of them, who had just been drinking tea, almost choked on it. Growing up in the Gusu Lan sect, these boys had grown used to austere elegance. They had probably never witnessed a farce like this before, nor heard such insightful argumentation. This was probably an important life experience for them. Laughing hysterically in his mind, Wei Wuxian reached out his hand and said: ‘Give them back, then.’

Of course there was nothing for Mo Ziyuan to return, because he’d either discarded or destroyed everything. Not that it made a difference, because he would have been too prideful to return them in any case. With an ashen face, he shrieked: ‘Mother!’ and glared daggers at her, as if to accuse: ‘Are you really just letting him humiliate me like this?’

Madam Mo glowered at her son in return, trying to prevent him from making the scene worse than it already was. Not giving up so easily, Wei Wuxian spoke again: ‘That reminds me.. He shouldn’t have stolen my things at all, but he especially shouldn’t have stolen them in the middle of the night. Considering the fact that everyone here knows I like men - he has no shame, forcing me into a suspicious situation like that.’

Madam Mo gasped and shouted: ‘How dare you say that in front of everyone! You’re the one who has no shame. A-Yuan is your cousin!’

Wei Wuxian was an expert at behaving badly. In the past, he’d had to restrain himself to protect the honour of his family, but now that he was already a verified lunatic, he didn’t have any face to worry about. Head held high, he spoke with the force of absolute conviction: ‘He’s perfectly aware that I’m his cousin, yet does nothing to avert suspicion. In the end, who is the more shameless one? Maybe it’s not a big deal to you, but please don’t ruin my innocence! I still want to find a good man!’

Mo Ziyuan screamed and started swinging a chair at him. Seeing him finally explode in rage, Wei Wuxian got up in one smooth movement and dodged out of the way. The chair hit the ground and was smashed to bits. The large crowd that had gathered in and around the East Hall had been delighting in the Mo family’s humiliation, but now that things had taken a more violent turn, they all fled before they could get into harm’s way. Wei Wuxian ducked towards the Lan Sect boys, who seemed dumbfounded. He yelled: ‘Did you all see that? Did you see? He’s a thief and a violent brute! An utterly heartless person to boot!’

Mo Ziyuan was just about to pounce on him when the leader of the Lan disciples stopped him, coaxing: ‘Young master.. If you have something to say to him, then say it.’

Madam Mo realised this boy was trying to protect the lunatic, and it frightened her. With a forced smile, she said: ‘This is my younger sister’s son. He’s a bit.. troubled. Everyone at the Mo manor knows that he’s insane and that his ridiculous stories should not be taken seriously. Cultivator, if I may suggest..’

Before she could finish her sentence, Wei Wuxian, who had been hiding behind the back of the head disciple, peeked out and said: ‘Who says the things I say shouldn’t be taken seriously? The next time someone tries to steal something from me, I will cut their hand off!’

Mo Ziyuan had been restrained by his father, but hearing these words made him furious again, and he struggled to break free. Wei Wuxian slithered out of reach like a fish swimming downstream, running out of the hall. The head disciple rushed to block the door, preventing anyone else from going after him. He then tried to switch everyone’s attention back to the actual reason they were here, speaking in a serious tone: ‘Um.. Well, we will be borrowing your West Garden this evening, Madam. You must take heed of the instructions I gave earlier. After nightfall, you must keep your doors tightly closed and remain inside. You must not approach the courtyard.’

Madam Mo was trembling with anger, but no matter how much she wanted to force that door open, she couldn’t go against her benefactors’ wishes. She could only say: ‘Yes, yes, thank you for your trouble..’

Mo Ziyuan couldn’t believe his ears. ‘Mother! That lunatic slandered me in front of so many people, and we’re just going to let him go? You said before, you said he’s just a..’

Madam Mo snapped: ‘Shut up. If you have something to say, say it after we have returned to our rooms!’

Mo Ziyuan had never lost his footing this way before, had never felt this humiliated and rejected even by his own mother. Seething with resentment, he snarled: ‘That madman will die tonight!’

After Wei Wuxian had finished his show of insanity and walked out of the hall, he took his time wandering the grounds of Mo manor, brazenly putting himself in the spotlight. He delighted in the way passers-by were shocked by his face. He was starting to gain a tangible understanding of the joy of being considered a madman. Begrudgingly, he realised that the thought of washing off the hanged-ghost makeup no longer felt so appealing either. He reasoned with himself: ‘In any case, there is no water, so how am I supposed to clean my face?’. He smoothed down his hair and glanced at his wrists. The cuts had not faded in the slightest. As expected, such a trivial degradation was far from satisfying Mo Xuanyu’s thirst for revenge.

Would he really need to annihilate the Mo clan completely?

….Honestly speaking, that might not be so difficult, after all.

Deep in thought, Wei Wuxian wandered back to the main buildings of the Mo manor, walking in small, springy steps. As he was passing the West Courtyard, he saw the Lan disciples standing on the roofs and eaves of the surrounding buildings, solemnly discussing something. Intrigued, Wei Wuxian retraced his steps, entering the courtyard and stretching his neck to look up at them.

Although the Gusu Lan Sect had been one of the key participants in the siege and annihilation campaign at Luanzang Mound, these disciples were too young to have even been born at that time. They had nothing to do with it. Wei Wuxian stood still and watched them, trying to figure out what they were doing. As he watched, he was suddenly gripped by a feeling of unease.

The fluttering black flags that the disciples had put up on the roofs and eaves looked awfully familiar.

These flags were called ‘Yin-summoning flags’. When carried by living humans, they would attract recently departed souls, vengeful ghosts, fierce corpses and evil spirits within a certain range. Whatever was summoned, it would only attack those carrying the flags. Because the flag-carrier was essentially turned into live bait, they were also called ‘target flags’. They could be hoisted on houses, on the condition that there were living people inside. In that case, the range of the target would be fixed to include everyone in that house. They had one more nickname, ‘black wind flags’, because dark yin energy would collect in their vicinity, spiraling like ink-black gusts of wind. Since the Lan disciples had arranged all the flags in the Western Courtyard and forbidden everyone from approaching it, they were clearly planning to attract the moving corpses there and capture them in one sweep.

As for their familiarity.. How could they not seem familiar? After all, the inventor of the Yin-summoning flags was Wei Wuxian himself!

All the cultivation clans might have been itching to kill him, but apparently they had no qualms about using his techniques for their own ends.

One of the disciples stationed on the roof noticed him watching them. ‘Please go back. You shouldn’t be here now.’

Although he was being shooed away, it sounded like the disciple really didn’t want him to be harmed. The tone could not have been more different to the one the Mo servants used on him. Wei Wuxian caught him off guard, leaping up and grabbing one of the flags.

Alarmed, the disciple jumped down to chase after him: ‘Stop meddling with it! This isn’t something you should be touching!’

Wei Wuxian was the perfect picture of a madman with his disheveled hair and his limbs flailing as if in some deranged dance, running away while shouting: ‘I won’t give it back! I won’t give it back! I want this! Want this!’

The disciple overtook him in a couple of strides, grabbing his arm and saying: ‘Will you give it back or not? If not, I will strike you!’

Wei Wuxian was holding on to the flag as if his life depended on it. The head disciple, who had been arranging the flag formation, noticed the commotion and jumped down from the eaves, light as a feather. He said: ‘Jingyi, leave it. Let’s just get it back nicely. There’s no need to get into a quarrel with him.’

Lan Jingyi said: ‘Sizhui, it’s not like I actually hit him! Just look at what he did - he destroyed the whole flag formation!’

During the two disciples’ heated conversation, Wei Wuxian was able to inspect the Yin-summoning flag in his hands. The motifs had been drawn correctly, and the incantations were complete. There were no signs of carelessness or negligence; the flag was completely fit for use. It had been drawn by an inexperienced hand, and would only attract spirits and moving corpses within a five-li radius. Nevertheless, it was good enough.

Lan Sizhui smiled at him and said: ‘Young master Mo, it will be dark soon. We will be capturing moving corpses, so it will be dangerous at night. You should head back to your room now.’

Wei Wuxian eyed the boy up and down. He looked gentle and elegant in a pristine way. There were traces of laughter in the corners of his mouth. This boy had the potential to become a widely praised cultivator, Wei Wuxian thought. He had also arranged the flag formation in perfect order, revealing an impeccable education. Who could have raised a boy like this in the dreadfully old-fashioned Gusu Lan clan?

Lan Sizhuan spoke again: ‘So, this flag…’

Before he had finished speaking, Wei Wuxian had already thrown the Yin-summoning flag to the ground, huffing: ‘It’s just a lousy flag, what’s the big deal! I could draw one much better than this!’ With that, he broke into a run and dashed away. His bragging made the boys listening from the roof laugh so hard they almost fell off. Even Lan Jingyi chuckled as he picked up the Yin-summoning flag and dusted it off. ‘This guy is completely crazy!’ he said.

‘Don’t say that. Let’s rush back to help the others’, Lan Sizhui said.

Wei Wuxian continued to loiter around the grounds until nightfall. He then returned to Mo Xuanyu’s small house tucked away in a courtyard. He ignored the broken latch and the complete mess that had been made of the room, picking a relatively clean spot on the floor to sit down and meditate.

This time, his meditation didn’t last until daybreak. His attention was pulled back to worldly things by a loud racket outside.

He could hear frantic footsteps and alarmed shouts approaching his room. Wei Wuxian listened to the same phrases being echoed over and over again: ‘Charge in and drag him out!’ ‘Report him to the authorities!’ ‘There’s no need to report anything, just beat him to death!’

As Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, several house-servants had already rushed into his room. He saw that the courtyard was brightly lit with flames. Someone was shouting: ‘Drag this insane murderer to the hall, so we can let him pay with his life!’

(translation notes)

#mdzs translation

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