#also street beggar core.

[batdaddylol]

Can we spar? Please? I can teach you archery just wow can we fight?

-@official-nrc-prophet

Money money money money

[astrogre]

Blue Eye Samurai - Mizu Birth chart

Ita 6am I have to wake up in 1 hour and I just spend 8 hours binge watching the cinematic masterpiece “Blue Eye Samurai” on Netflix because it was so good. This is not even astrologically possible and completely for my own entertainment -but these are the placements that Mizu reminded me of, let me know what you think.

*BEWARE THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS*

5H Virgo sun Definitely a mercurial dominant, intelligent too. The crafty ways she operates utilising all of her resources available, wit, body, allies, furniture, weather, all in ways she creates herself through precision and high performance standards, she is an artisan, devoting all that she has the her sword craftsmanship, she understands this at the very end, sticking to her dogmatic sword artisan principles. If it were not for revenge plans -at the core she is an artist of metals. Her Virgo Sun qualities come out especially when she feels constant shame and is self critical of her self, even if the problem is caused by other people she blames herself.

I have also noticed that Virgo suns are very good at taking accountability… too good. They can end up taking responsibility for things that aren’t their faults.

6H Saturn Capricorn Her meticulousness and samurai skills that are near impossible, Mizu trains daily and always feels like she hasn’t learnt or done enough, she is organised but in her own unique way. She has this Saturn kind of way of Self mastery and perfection. Like she has to be perfect if she wants to be anything at all.

Capricorn Mercury in 4H Mizu also is surprisingly polite when confronting others and respectful of boundaries, she is very witty but kept to herself like when she requests for audience at the dojo before murdering everyone. Not only that but when she sword attacks people her precision is IMMACULATE. She is formal when dealing with other people, and again has extremely witty confident comebacks. Her words are rather empowering too because since she doesn’t say much unless she feels safe, when she speaks it means a lot. The way she thinks too is very straightforward and direct. No shortcuts just blunt and cuts right to the chase.

Scorpio Uranus conjunct Scorpio Mars in 8H She is SO unexpected in combat, SO mysterious too, at first with everyone perceived her to be a beggar from the street, weak and incompetent. Not only that but her being a WOMAN Scorpio and 8H rules over genitals so this placement being here makes a lot of sense. There is plenty of Ambiguity, secrets and allure to her. She is so full of mystery. The way she kills her husband, the way she kills armies, children, all and anyone for her path of revenge is erratic, gory, cruel and immoral. Her actions are quite literally ruled by death just like the 8H. She kills in a very unique and clever way. No matter how many times her organs rupture and her chest gets severed she still is alive, that’s why I’d place Mars here she will fight to live just to kill. That and her eternal long drive for revenge tied in with her marriage, the story of Onryo all of it is completely Scorpion.

“If I don’t come back... I failed, or I’m dead.” -Mizu

“Don’t be silly, Master. You can’t die, you don’t know how.” -Ringo

Chiron in the 1st

I mean the entire plot was just talking about how her appearance made her a monster while acting like one and even when she could finally be loved in marriage her husband couldn’t love her for who she is because of her identity, what her appearance made her. She experienced betrayal in all ways.

Aquarius Moon She actually has such a soft way about loving others to her. She is very compassionate. The way she gave the gold she took from the fight with Taigen to the freezing family outside, she is always saving people when she can, rather apologetic towards Akemi for deserting her. She has such an empathetic soul. She’s so generous towards others too.

Pisces Venus She is a sweetheart in love too. Very forgiving. She selflessly tried the whole wife act for her mother and once again when she did love she unfortunately pretended to be someone she wasn’t to please her partner. She has tendencies of being anyone but herself in love, when taigen got a boner from play fighting Mizu told him not to apologize and is very soft with the people close to her like Ringo and Eiji her swordfather. She is also rather deceived in relationships because at the core Mizu has a very pure inexperienced soul. She is not used to luxury, pampering, being provided for and the sort, it seems like a dream to someone like her.

I mean look at those glasses and clean cut gaze, that’s a mercurial if I ever seen one. Virgo rising men, please, my DMs are open.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Five Orange Pips pt 1

the adventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant Society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with the loss of the British bark Sophy Anderson, of the singular adventures of the Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the Camberwell poisoning case

Another round of 'look at all the fun cases I won't be talking about today 🤣. I feel like the Amateur Mendicant Society is a bit like Neville St Clair, as mendicant means beggar, so it feels like a group of people who dress up as beggars for the fun of it. Paradol is apparently a chemical found in peppers and ginger that makes it spicy, but I have no indication of when that chemical was first named, so whotf knows what that was about.

It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so that even here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forced to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life and to recognize the presence of those great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilization, like untamed beasts in a cage.

I love this description. It's so extra. Also the phrase 'equinoctial gales' is lovely. Watson, you should have taken up poetry.

My wife was on a visit to her mother's, and for a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street.

Watson can't be left alone for more than a day at a time. Mary had to ask Sherlock to Watson-sit for her as she went to see her 'mother' *winkwink*. He needs enrichment in his enclosure.

He stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit.

Interrogation lighting! WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?!

"You have come up from the south-west, I see." "Yes, from Horsham." "That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is quite distinctive." "I have come for advice."

Sorry, Holmes. This guy does not gaf about your creepy knowledge of clay and chalk mixes.

AH... hello racism. All the racism... So much racism. I mean, I know the story so yeah... but dear god if ever there were a literary character who deserved to die, it's this one. Fuuuuuck Elias Openshaw.

'My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!'

The world's tiniest violin was unable to perform because it did not give a fuck.

" 'I wish you, John,' said my uncle, 'to witness my will. I leave my estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you. If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you cannot, take my advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy."

Well that's one way to say you always hated your sibling. And also to tell your nephew you hate him too. This guy is the absolute worst in so many ways. Like he just keeps piling on more reasons that he's the worst onto the already huge steaming pile. Yes, the people hunting him are even worse, but he's still just a terrible terrible person.

We found him, when we went to search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden.

A fitting place for him to be.

No, I will not be feeling any sorrow at his passing.

I'm sorry that his brother's getting the same treatment, though. He doesn't seem like the most pleasant person in the world, but the fact he doesn't know what the initials stand for already puts him head and shoulders above his dead brother.

The attitude of his son to Elias and his war record and postwar activity doesn't exactly indicate that the pair of them are not-racist, though. But they don't appear to have actively murdered anybody or fought in order to perpetuate slavery, so... the bar is low. The bar is really really low on this one. Is there somewhere lower than the centre of the Earth's core?

And the threat of death for something they know nothing about... which, why did Elias not tell people what the fuck was going on? Why did he not...? Well, we'll get onto that bit. Just fuck Elias. Really, truly, Fuck Elias Openshaw.

[plenary-indulgence]

picked up my yuyuhase alt again recently, my friends wanted to do eden and i also took him to the all lalafell nier raids on siren last week to get him a proper nier glam (which every lalafell needs imo) so i guess it’s about time to put him through endwalker lol

my wol!yuyuhase timeline thus far:

pre-ARR is just his canon backstory. grew up a beggar on the streets of ul’dah (and an orphan too i think) and bootstrapped himself into a successful porter business until he got fucked over and lost everything then flew down the aetheryte guard -> brass blades -> immortal flames -> lolorito’s inside guy pipeline ARR echo/blessing nonsense starts up in earnest and most everyone with half a brain is like “oh don’t mind crazy ol’ yuyuhase” but being the enterprising and clever little bastard he is he’s like “ohhhhh there’s got to be a way for me to make some gil off of this” and basically takes up a fortune telling side hustle on the down low 1) because you can’t just go shouting from the rooftops that you’re suddenly psychic you’ll get thrown in jail or worse 2) the key to any successful business is building a core base of wealthy and reliable clients, not any riffraff off the street with 20 gil who just wants to be told all their dreams will come true 3) the immortal flames do not appreciate their recruits moonlighting and this is technically his side-side-gig after his original side-gig of “whatever lolorito tells him to do on the sly”

so he’s pretty discreet about it but is managing to make a pretty sizable little nest egg once knowledge of what he can actually do starts spreading through the upper class but the streets of ul’dah do not keep secrets well and so eventually rumors about a “queer lalafell who can really see the future tell you your fortune for a fee” get back to thancred and he susses yuyuhase out and is like “hey hey hey let’s have a quick chat about all this then” and determines it’s the echo and tells him about the scions and minfilia and says he should come to the waking sands to which yuyuhase basically tells him to go fuck himself. he’s got a good thing going here, he’s got plenty of his own irons in the fire, plates spinning, so on and so forth, why should he care about petty naive do-gooder nonsense like saving the realm? bunch of spoiled sharlayan bookworms can sod right off as far as he’s concerned.

and thancred is like ughhh ok this guy sucks but i can’t just go fuck myself on this one i gotta just get him in a room with minfilia somehow. so he uses his connections and pulls some strings, goes to the higher ups in the flames and says “hey so im doing this investigation in drybone and i need a bodyguard, i want you to assign me this guy as an escort” and they’re like “haha ok good luck have fun” and at first yuyuhase is like “ah fuck not this prick again” but ultimately he’s getting paid now and he’s on assignment so what does he really care. might as well just get it over with. which he does, and things proceed, and ifrit is slain and suddenly he’s a big damn hero and then a lightbulb goes off because like, of course it all makes perfect sense now. he’s special all of a sudden, and he’s in very high demand, and things that are in high demand can fetch exorbitant prices. so he does go back to the waking sands with thancred and let’s minfilia give him the whole spiel and listens very politely and when she’s done he hands her an invoice and is like “that’s for ifrit, my fees are non-negotiable, if you want me to save eorzea or whatever, you can pay for me to do it.” and now the rest of the scions too are like “oh yea this guy sucks” but minfilia sees a little glimmer, a little something there and she’s like “alright :)”

and tataru of course hates him. the rest of ARR proceeds basically as usual but every time he pray returns to the waking sands with another invoice she sits him down and tries to renegotiate his fees and every time he shuts her down like “nice try kid haha payment terms are net 30 as usual i’ll see you around” his relationship to the rest of the scions varies:

- he and yshtola don’t interact much, they obviously have nothing in common and are polite coworkers at best. they will probably never be close and that’s fine with both of them - thancred and yuyuhase got off on sort of the wrong foot and had a very mutual “hey this guy sucks” attitude at first but they sort of grow on each other. there’s a mutual respect for two guys who game from the same shitty background and “get out”. they aren’t besties or anything but they get each other - yuyuhase is not impressed by urianger at all. not by the stupid way he talks (which he thinks is affected deliberately to make him sound smarter) or by his shady “do wrong for the right reasons schtick” like man you just like to lie. own it. you aren’t fooling anyone. - he thinks minfilia is like insanely naive but she’s also young and clearly a good kid who means well (sucks for her) and from the MEAN STREETS OF UL’DAH like him so he does feel a little bit of solidarity. the whole “organization to save eorzea from itself” stings a little less coming from someone like her. - he doesn’t mind yda actually. she’s a lot of fun. - ok before we talk about papalymo let me just preface this by saying IT WAS JUST A JOKE, i was DOING A BIT and then i was like wait hang on this is actually ticking a lot of boxes for me. and now it doesn’t matter how stupid it is because it’s real to me HEAR ME OUT

- so similar but so different!! 2 blonde 40+ lalafell with attitudes but from two totally different walks of life. a scruffy street rat from ul’dah and a pampered sharlayan scholar... - i can make him better vs i can make him worse. papalymo is a steady, guiding presence that will literally scold yuyuhase into being a better person and yuyuhase is juuuust unhinged enough to keep papalymo interested and drag him out of his comfort zone - i think papalymo would actually be quite charmed by yuyuhase’s dry wit and pragmatism. conversely, yuyuhase would have a lot of fun riling up papalymo to get a reaction.

- sam and diane dynamic basically

so as ARR goes on they get closer and closer and there’s push and pull will they or won’t they so on and so forth and it’s a THING but it’s also NOT a thing because they’re both so stubborn and refuse to admit they’re actually into “that smug bastard/that arrogant scold”

sidenote: probably about halfway through ARR, just before titan he goes to lolorito and puts in his resignation as shady errand guy because being the champion of eorzea is now basically a full time job and he’s making soo much gil and really doesn’t need to be doing lackey work anymore. and of course lolorito is not happy about it because yuyuhase was actually only getting more and more useful to him but what could be done about it? what indeed...

post-ARR so life is pretty good by now he’s rolling in gil, he’s the champion of eorzea, savior of the realm (titles he’s not super duper sold on but it’s great from a marketing perspective so whatever) and alphinaud comes in with his crystal braves idea. now, yuyuhase HATES alphinaud, and i feel like he’s pretty justified in that. like, from his perspective he’s someone who grew up in the worst conditions, has seen the poverty and experienced the misery firsthand - you can say what you want about him being a bad person but you can’t deny yuyuhase is someone who is very familar with reality - and here’s this literal child from overseas, who has never been hungry or cold or known any danger in his life - spoiled and arrogant and he’s comes in here basically saying “i’m going to fix all your problems it’s going to be so easy i know better than you helpless eorzeans” and it’s not really all that different a tune then the one the empire sings and it’s just so patronizing and infuriating because even though 90% of his brain at this point is dedicated to the accumulation of wealth and power there’s still 10% that has dignity. so that’s where there’s a little more canon divergence; he really goes off on alphinaud and refuses to join the braves and washes his hands of the whole endeavor. which frees him up to be the perfect scapegoat with the rest of the scions to take the fall for the “assassination” of nanamo, and that works out so nicely for lororito because like, if his former goon wasn’t working for him anymore he doesn’t want him working for anyone, and this gets him out of the picture. adds a nice bit of color to the scheme i think.

HW: anyway still stupid rich and powerful but now a fugitive on suspicion of high treason and murdering the sultana (as we know he’s not necessarily opposed to a little bit of treason as a treat but he’s real sore about this because he’s taking the fall for something he didn’t even DO) and off to ishgard, where it is very cold, with two of his least favorite people in the entire world by his side.

this is a low point for wol!yuyuhase because he’s cold all the time and hates snow and does not give a fuck about ishgard or the dragonsong war and oh also, papalymo - probably the only person who he’s managed to build a genuine connection with - is missing presumed dead. it’s bad, he’s miserable, probably more than a little depressed and for the first time is really starting to question who/what he actually is and what he’s even doing. but now there’s a bunch of wealthy ishgardian’s willing to supplement the income he lost when the scions exploded so he stays on his grind; ends the war, unseats the theocracy, bills time and a half, trips alphinaud into snowbanks whenever he can and then pulls the most innocent and angelic “who, me?” face which is always a small light in the otherwise dark winter of his journey. this is also the time when, at a low point, he is finally defeated by tataru, who is really starting to come into her own and is like “ok listen i’m not your client i’m your AGENT and actually you need to be giving me a cut on every job :)” and that settles that matter.

post-HW: finally reunited with papalymo, and their time apart has made them both realize there are GENUINE and UNRESOLVED feelings between them that NEED TO BE ADDRESSED except you know papalymo then like immediately fucking throws himself at a primal and dies lmao.

STB: these are the bad times. i think up until this point yuyuhase was starting to grow and improve as a person but papalymo’s death sends him spiraling right back to square one and, if anything, only hardens his belief that the only thing that matters in this life is wealth and power and looking out for yourself. this is the second time he’s allowed himself to hope otherwise and the second time that he’s (in his mind) been punished for it. well, not again no way! fool him once, shame on you, fool him twice shame on HIM. a harsh lesson twice learned 40 years in the making. all that being said, lyse is basically his last connection to papalymo and his last wish had sort of been that she walk her path. and there’s plenty of profit in revolution for someone who’s shrewd enough to take advantage. i think yuyuhase is a person who has basically always had hardship at his back and as a survival method simply refuses to engage with his actual feelings and instead pushes forward. because what else can you do? it’s something i don’t think someone who hasn’t experienced it can understand but when you’re TRULY hungry you don’t sit there and wallow in your hunger, you do whatever you have to to ensure that you never go hungry again. that is to say, he’s in a lot of pain but instead of letting himself heal he just cuts a huge swathe of destruction across the continent and liberates two nations and makes an assload of gil. at this point he’s probably actually in the top 1% wealthiest people in eorzea, but he’s still not happy, and he’s still hungry, and that hole in him still hasn’t been filled up so that must mean he just hasn’t gotten wealthy enough yet. he hasn’t gotten powerful enough yet. more gil, more strength - he just needs to get a bit more and then all the bad will finally go away.

the actual plot stuff in stormblood is all secondary to his internal struggles; like ishgard he doesn’t actually give a fuck about ala mhigo or doma but that’s the path lyse is walking and the one he’s following her down getting paid all the way. zenos beating his ass is noteworthy - it reinforces that yuyuhase is still not top dog, there’s still someone who has power over him. there’s no thrill in it for him, he just wants zenos down.

post-STB: more politics he doesn’t care about. he’s kind of getting to the end of his tether here. maybe a fresh perspective, or a change in scenery will help?

SHB: but not like that!! ohh he was soo pissed off when g’raha dragged him to the first. didn’t want any part of it. but really at this point he’s so worn down eventually he just starts marking up his invoices (billed to the exarch and the crystarium of course) 200% for out-of-area service and goes with it. they start pumping him full of light and it’s just like “well this is definitely corrupt but in general yuyuhase is already a corrupt person so how much worse can it even get it’s probably fine” he’s really kind of enchanted by eulmore and vauthry (much to the horror of the rest of the scions) but to him that seems like a logical conclusion to everything. who wouldn’t want to live out their days in luxury - no struggles, no grindset, just everything you could ever want, always? towards the end, he really considers just giving up and retiring there to die but dulia-chai of all people sits him down and sets him straight like, “well yes of course it’s a lovely sort-of-life. we never want for anything material. always safe, always warm, always fed. but there’s really nothing there. it’s just as empty as it is full my dear. and there are so many people who want better than that for you.” and she had no way of knowing about papalymo but that’s who he thought of and it sort of started to snap him out of this 2 xpac long downward spiral. ryne absolutely adores him even though he’s kind of like that weird uncle who is probably harmless but still a bad influence so your parents don’t want you hanging out with him. she’s convinced he’s actually a good person deep down and it’s possible she’s not wrong? but you’d have to go like, real deep. emet-selch also finds him kind of fascinating, this selfish little bastard and at one point asks him “how much would it cost me to to have you fuck off and leave us to it (rejoinings) and yuyuhase’s response was pretty much “don’t worry about it you couldn’t afford it” the implication of course being that he does in fact have a price and can be bought for even the worst of intentions but it’s also possible the number in his head is so absurdly high that that amount of material wealth may not even exist. hmmm!! definitely don’t need to read any more into that or what that means!! post-SHB: here is where he’s currently at. he’s been very clear that he’s going to start billing the scions again for all this work getting their souls back to the source and NO tataru does NOT get her cut this time this was ALL HIM. i’m going to be soooo annoying with gpose once i get him to aitiascope lmaooo

[rayshelmendoza]

Project 3 - Independent Research (research in progress)

General research on Identity:

Artists often explore characteristics that determine our personal and social identity. 

They construct a sense of who we are as individuals, as a society, or as a nation. 

They question stereotypes and conventions while exploring attributes such as gender, sexuality, race, nationality and heritage. 

Culture is informed by various forms of artistic and social endeavour: technology, politics, style, music, performance and the arts.          

One of the more important themes emerging from the last century has been the individual’s search for identity. 

Like children, artists sometimes explore their identity through self-portraits and symbolically in works of art that relate to ancestry or culture. Doing so allows them to 

take a look inside their core and see how they fit within their contemporary culture. This investigation of the self plays an important role in how artists understand their environment and the world.

Artist Study:

Vincent Van Gogh

Vincent van Gogh is known as a person who spent much of his time in solitude. 

Painted more than thirty self-portraits between 1886 and 1889, making him among the most prolific self portraitist of all time. 

Van Gogh used the study of his own image to help develop his skills as an artist.

These portraits give us insight into the artist’s life and well-being, how he fits in society and his place among the groups with whom he associated.

Pablo Picasso

Picasso painted a number of self-portraits, Throughout his career, Picasso painted various likenesses that reflected changes in himself: His style, artistic development, lifestyle and beliefs. This may be viewed closely from the content of his paintings.

The first portrait, painted in 1901 while he was establishing himself as an artist in Paris, France, and still spending time in Barcelona, Spain, reflects the sombre mode and tones of his Blue Period (1904-1906) 

(In 1903, the ‘Blue Period’ works that Picasso painted seemed to reflect his experience of relative poverty and instability. His art depicted beggars, street urchins, the old, the frail, and the blind.

These were painted in monochromatic shades of blue and blue-green.)

Picasso depicts himself as an artist who by that time was moving in artistic circles

Identity is the way we perceive and express ourselves. Factors and conditions that an individual is born with. 

Many aspects of a person’s identity change throughout his or her life. Their experiences can alter how they see themselves or are perceived by others. 

Their identities can also alter the decisions they make: making friends, adopting certain fashions, and aligning themselves with political beliefs based on their identities.

Many artists use their work to express, explore and question ideas about identity.

Picasso Self-Portrait Evolution:

‘Picasso’s self-portraits are important because they span his entire career, and we can trace how his manner of self-depiction changed over time.’

‘It’s interesting to compare the self-portraits from, for instance, the Blue Period to those done when he was working in a Cubist mode only a few years later. In a way, his self-portraits reflect different periods of his artistic maturity and art career.’

‘He once noted, “The different styles I have been using in my art must not be seen as an evolution, or as steps towards an unknown ideal of painting.”’

‘In another comment, he said, “Different themes inevitably require different methods of expression. This does not imply either evolution or progress; it is a matter of following the idea one wants to express and the way in which one wants to express it. 

Picasso, like any other artist, wished to express his ideas in the way he intends, His vast array of styles in his portraits, while to him doesn’t mean to show evolution, still portrays his motive towards his artwork. His artwork themselves represents him and contributes to his legacy as one of the most well-known artists in history, Which largely became his identity.

Man with a Blue Scarf: On Sitting for Portrait by Lucian Freud - Martin Gayford

Guardian Article

‘A series of biographical close-ups,’ 

 A book written by Martin Gayford about his personal experience with sitting for a portrait for Lucian Freud, as the title presents. 

‘And no matter  how fascinating its revelations of artist’s working life and his pungent views on painting, what carries the narrative is this dialogue between the two, in which Freud is vividly surprising, potent and dynamic, while Gayford is steadily attentive and respectful.’  

The book is described to present both personalities of Freud and Gayford, portraying their identities effectively through Gayford’s personal touches in his own writing. This shows that creative endeavours other than art such as writing can shape and create an impression and perception of one’s identity/personality.

‘Lucian Freud famously guards his privacy, avoiding the press, visiting museums by night and giving only two TV interviews.’

To know that there was little known about Lucian Freud personally prior to the book interestingly shows that one’s impression and experiences of a person can say a lot about them without any of the said person’s own input. 

‘Freud’s opinions become addictive, his loathing of Leonardo and “the awful Mona Lisa”, of Raphael’s weightless figures, of everything by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, whose work is “the nearest painting can get to bad breath”. 

‘Freud’s insights are piercing and astringent.’

He believes every good painting contains, indeed requires “a little bit of poison.”

Freud’s opinions on famous artists’ work were quite strong as well as his standards when it comes to paintings. Opinions can tell a lot about a person. 

“The painting’s done when I have the sensation I am painting someone else’s picture.”

Gayford’s recollection of things Freud had actually said is quite telling of Freud’s views and personality. 

‘The memoir reveals far more about the artist and his model than the portrait.’

In the making of a portrait, which displays the physical likeness and identity of Gayford, his recollection of his time with Freud identified the artist also. I find this fascinating as it’s a combination of presenting identity through different types of creative processes.

Quotes from the Book:

‘Perhaps the true subject of the portrait is the interchange between painter and subject - what the sitter consciously or unconsciously reveals, and the artist picks up. Out of the sitting comes, with luck, a new entity: a picture that succeeds and fails - that is, lives on in human memory or disappears - according to its power as a work of art.’

A portrait can embody the memory of the subject as well as the artist who created it, a living memory created from an artistic process and is a part of their identity left behind. Identity is depicted in physical appearance and artistic identity and legacy. 

[featherfur]

Hi......Thanks a lot for your blog....I just read a theory.....The theory says if Wei Wuxian's parents survived, he might have turned like Xiao Xingchen. If Wei Wuxian was never found by Jiang family, he might have turned out like Xue Yang and if he was found by an unkind sect leader he might have ended like Jin Guangyao.....Do you agree with this? Thoughts, please?

I mean, I think there’s a lot to unpack. Wei Wuxian is partially the over-protective, wants to save people, guy he is, because he went through the trauma of the streets and then having a home and the threat of losing it. I guess it depends on who his parents were, because they were people who left the cultivation world. Not to start their own sect or anything, and we don’t know if they intended for Wei Wuxian to ever have his core formed since I don’t think he has one when JFM found him (tho I could be misremembering on that). They could have wanted to get out of cultivation period, live a happy life on a farm and only fought because they had the skills, like a parallel to Mianmian. He might have been trained to protect himself but I don’t think he would have been raised to be a cultivator, it’s a painful and bloody end and a life of political he’ll that even wandering rogues can’t escape.

Wei Wuxian was raised to think his life was forfeit for others, Jiang Cheng and Yanli, Yunmeng Jiang. So if he wasn’t raised that way, he may not have the same innocent, near child like fantasy of saving the world that Xiao Xingchen. He’d probably have a much more gritty realization of the real way life works and care more about traveling around then saving everyone or making his own sect to continue his work. He also probably would have more sense of respect and fear towards sect leaders, as his father was a servant and his mother knowing that she and his father can’t protect him forever so he shouldn’t punch the sect heir. So no I don’t think he’d be like Xiao Xingchen, he’d be more aware of the truth of society, uncaring toward the idea of a sect, and understanding that you can’t save everyone and sometimes you gotta ignore the sects.

As for Xue Yang, I think any child who’s heart and trust is shattered at a young age has the potential to be him. But I think at WWX’s age of like? 9? He’s a just a little too old to be quite as twisted, he’d probably have just grown up to be a beggar or maybe a mugger. I think the WWX we meet at 9 has been fighting for scraps and still remains hopeful, would probably have grown into the old beggar who is always around to play with the kids and watches them and makes coin by the parents tossing him one in thanks. Though, he is handsome and smart so maybe in his teen/early twenties he’s found by a merchant and given the chance for a new life. Even if he was betrayed I think WWX would be hurt and mistrustful but I don’t think he’d be vengeful more than fucking with the betrayer’s carts.

Jin Guangyao… he went through a traumatic childhood, was publicly rejected and abused by his father, went through abuse at The Unclean Realms, was told to ignore it, became a spy who killed his old clan members and then his new boss, and was turned into a puppet/trophy by his father while being abused by his step mother. That’s a Lot of Shit to go down specifically. An unkind sect leader would have simply left him there, he’s nobody, he’s less than a vagrant because he’ll starve in a quarter of the time. A sect leader who picks him up and abuses him will probably either have a run-away (because WWX would feel safer on the streets he knows) or a very shitty cultivator (WWX isn’t pushing himself to prove himself or to protect his new family) the sect leader would have to be good enough at manipulation to praise him enough to keep him from bolting and continue his training. Wen Rohuan might have been able too, but I think WWX would read the one thing of principles and stick a little too hard to it. Even if he didn’t follow everything, there’s enough about being a Good person (rather than “don’t drunk”) that I think WWX would want to emulate that/ would feel off that the Wen’s aren’t doing it that way. At which point I think he might have the chance of being the spy who kills Wen Ruohan in exchange for someone else being on the throne and the Wen’s left alone. (Insert Wen Qing because the sect leaders think a woman is less threatening because they’re idiots) but no, I don’t think he’d kill his way to the top after being betrayed repeatedly by his blood father that he only wanted to be with to give his dying mother hope that he’d be taken care of and loved.

There’s a particular way that WWX was raised that made him who he was that’s hard to emulate in other places. You need: Someone who gives him a home with warmth, someone he is now ordered to protect who is gentle with him, someone he is ordered to protect who will let him do what he wants, a parent figure who refuses to allow him to be a servant, another parent figure who demands he be one publicly in WWX’s view, a sect that doesn’t beat the crap out of an annoying teen who can’t figure out what respect is, and the ability to keep the local town from calling for his head when he, once again, steals food from their garden/farm.

Nature vs Nurture is a long ending feud. Children from the gentlest families can become the most abusive, children from the most abusive can become the most loving. Nature is inherent and some things seem to remain the same, but nurture can mold us around our natures to the point of hiding it. You could justify WWX becoming anyone with the right backstory, because humans are just clay molds not yet put into the kiln of life.

This is just how I see it

[sassassassins]

Companion piece to this meta about Zhou Zishu

When Wen Kexing leaves the Ghost Valley, he encounters a curious concept: a philanthropist, someone whose sole occupation is being good and grand and bestowing money on those less fortunate.

There were no good people in the Ghost Valley. For one thing, there were no people in the Ghost Valley, only their twisted, sunless reflections. Loyalty and power were the only things that mattered in the hierarchy of that ravenous underworld. If a good person happened to wander in, they'd be eaten alive in ten minutes flat.

Wen Kexing quite likes the idea of being a good person. It appeals to him in the same way that fine silk robes and elegant jade pendants appeal to him, as a pretty thing to try on and discard as necessary.

So he fashions himself as Philanthropist Wen, strolling through the streets with a benevolent smile and the lazy wave of his fan. Perhaps he hasn't endowed any orphanages or gifted food to any beggars, Gu Xiang aside, but it's the spirit of the occupation that matters. He wears it with style. It's a fine mask as he waltzes his way into the circles of the traitorous leaders of the jianghu, working to get close enough to plant the seeds of discord and watch them destroy each other.

He doesn't really start to think about what it might mean to be good until he meets his A-Xu. At first, he's simply startled to see the Swift-Moving Steps of Siji Pavilion, then intrigued by the mystery of this man and his fine shoulderblades. But as he gets closer, he finds that his A-Xu is both a peerless beauty and a good man at his core, someone he didn't think could exist in the corrupt human realm. As he watches, A-Xu saves Zhang Chengling to repay a paltry debt, even though it would be easier to flee. He holds a piece of Glazed Armor in his hands and throws it to Wen Kexing without a hint of greed in his eyes. He openly reveals his identity and his bloody history as an assassin, and makes a commitment to start a new life. Zhou Zishu is undoubtedly a good man, perhaps the best he has ever known.

Watching his A-Xu move through the world starts to give Wen Kexing a slithering uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. When he watches his schemes lead to the unintended deaths of innocents, he knows he does not deserve to stand next to his A-Xu in the light. Am I a good person? he asks as a flirtation, but he knows that his mask is slipping to reveal the cracks beneath, exposing the shatter pattern where the child Zhen Yan broke beneath the cruelty of the previous Ghost Valley master.

It's a strange feeling, shame. Highly inconvenient. For years, he had always been resolute and self-assured in one purpose: revenge. Self-doubt is dangerous in a place like the Ghost Valley, where the inhabitants can smell fear and corner the vulnerable. But now that he's spent so much time with Zhou Zishu, putting on the persona of the Ghost Valley Master is starting to feel like a chore. He likes being Philanthropist Wen. He likes standing next to A-Xu, even if he doesn't deserve to claim the human world as his own.

The shame becomes a pulsing, throbbing point of pain with the revelation of his parentage at Longyuan Cabinet. It hounds him constantly once they return to Siji Pavilion. He knows that his rotten identity will break their hard-won peace, perhaps irreparably. He dreads his exposure with every conversation, and screams his frustration and confused grief at the grave of his would-be master. Everything that once seemed so simple has become hopelessly tangled.

Except - Zhou Zishu defends him from Ye Baiyi with an arm thrown across his chest to protect him. He knew already of Wen Kexing's identity as the Ghost Valley Master, somehow. He knew, but had not rejected him. He still calls him shidi. Which means that either Wen Kexing is a good person after all, worthy of being defended, or he has somehow misunderstood his A-Xu.

He doesn't truly understand until he lets the persona of the Ghost Valley Master fall to his death off a cliff. Standing over the pitiful body of Zhao Jing, he feels righteous in his violence. But more importantly, he feels the last of his masks slip away. He can put on red robes and speak in a commanding voice if necessary, but he has nothing to hide-- not from Zhou Zishu or Zhang Chengling or Gu Xiang. Not from his family, the ones who know the truth of him and stand beside him anyway. He might not be a good person, but he is a person, and finally, an honest one. Someone his parents might be proud of calling their son. Someone who might be able to call A-Xiang his sister, as she deserves. A human once more.

His A-Xu is the same, he thinks. Leaving Tian Chuang has not absolved him of his past, but it has allowed him to step into the light, not to seek to be good, but to find a chance at peace. Of course his A-Xu is beautiful, but Kexing does not need to change to be worthy of him. They are the same in so many ways. For the first time he can remember, Wen Kexing wants nothing more than to live, to rest, and to see A-Xiang married.

The temporary relief of a moment of peace makes what happens next even more painful. A-Xu pulls away from him just as he's ready to truly begin their life together. Gu Xiang dies a cruel death, after only just accepting him as her brother. His regrets begin to pile up again. Mo Huaiyang dies too slowly, and even in this new life, he can't control the cruel turn of fate.

He knows it might be selfish to save Zhou Zishu's life at the cost of his own. A good man would have explained the risks and given him a choice. But in this new life, he does not have to pretend to be a benevolent philanthropist or an evil ghost. He is a man in love, and right or wrong, he cannot bear any more loss.

Fortunately, Zhou Zishu also refuses to allow him to die. He should have expected nothing less: they are zhiji, and their souls are the same. They have lied to each other and hurt each other, but in this too, they are equals. Perhaps neither of them are good people. But they deserve each other, and after all that has happened, they have earned their peace.

A/N whew this got long!! Wen Kexing has a lot to say, apparently. I'm still trying to get a handle on these characters and their voices, but this was fun to write. I feel like I have a better grasp on Zhou Zishu's voice and character, so I'd be interested to hear what y'all think of this version of Wen Kexing!!

Also, I take gif-making requests and (short) writing prompts 😊

[captains-nobles-dragons]

ASURa for Tjiia

Heya, ozelot! Thanks for the ask! A: Aptitude 1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?

Tjiia is a natural born thief. She's extremely good at stealing and confusing people, even before she took up the profession.

2. what activities have they participated in?

Too many activities to count. Tjiia has been all over the world, being involved in so much stuff she cannot even remember all of it.

3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for?

In the game, I've made her use the deadeye spec. In my headcanon she has to train with Zafirah first before she's able to even hold her gun at the right angle.

4. what things are they bad at?

Honestly, she can suck at being a reliable friend. It happens fairly often that she chooses to run away for her own sake instead of staying by her friends' side and consoling them. Also, she's a terrible singer, but that doesn't stop her from trying and serenading Ari (@medical-unprofessional-rat-man).

5. what is their most impressive talent?

Her artistic skills are surely something with which she can impress. Her parents were part-time circus artists, so she picked up a lot of their tricks, and likes to perform them for her friends. They also come in handy in combat.

S: Streets

1. are they street-smart?

Yes, very much so! It's kind of ironic. She grew up in Rata Sum, the hub for science in Tyria, but spent her times on the streets, learning tricks.

2. would they give money to someone on the streets?

No. Tjiia mostly lacks an empathetic side, she doesn't necessarily care for strangers.

3. have they ever gotten in a fight on the streets?

Absolutely, since she was young. Tjiia always needed to prove herself in front of bigger, smarter, richer people, and her big mouth didn't help either. She almost got into trouble with the Seraphs for instigating a fight in front of a tavern in Divinity's Reach – good thing she's quick on her feet.

4. has anything happened to them on the streets?

In terms of tragic events, no, but she has learned a lot from the people out there. Vagabonds, travelers, pilgrims, bandits, pirates, beggars; she primarily contributes her vast knowledge of the world to these people.

5. are they cautious when out?

Tjiia always seems so careless and self-assured. She knows she would quickly gain the upper hand if something should happen out there, but that's also because she has her eyes and ears everywhere, thief-style.

U: Underdog

1. have they been bullied?

Her family's lifestyle has always been looked down upon by other Asurans. Her parents rejected the normal Asuran life, and so did Tjiia. She was judged and even laughed at for that, but she never really cared about the opinions of others, especially other Asura.

2. have they bullied anyone?

No, I'd suppose.

3. have they been physically attacked by a bully?

THAT nobody really was brave enough to do.

4. have they ever been doubted?

Oh, constantly! By her mentor Canni, by her foster brother Ari, by her schoolmates (when she actually went to school), Pact soldiers and even herself.

5. have they surprised people with being good at something?

Almost immediately when she enters a battle, people are surprised by how quick and effective she is. Later on she actually becomes a renowned sniper and infamous sailor, so yes, people tend to be surprised when she shows off her skills.

R: Rules

1. do they follow rules?

Tjiia hates hates hates rules. It goes against her very core wish of freedom. It already takes enough of her to follow Pact principles, which is why she leaves several times – only to realize that sometimes she has to swallow down her sentiments and abide by the rules … more or less.

2. would they be a strict or laid-back parent?

Absolutely laid-back. She's ace and otherwise uninterested in romance, so there's no chance she'll have a kid, but if she did, she'd be that kind of cool hippie mom.

3. have they ever been consequenced for breaking a rule?

Technically yes, but Tjiia doesn't take these consequences seriously.

4. have they broken any rules they now regret breaking?

Not really rules but she has done some stuff she regrets now.

5. do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous?

Basically … almost everything. She recognizes that there are laws and social rules, but she's easy to judge people who blindly follow them without questioning.

Hope you have a great day, @dasozelotvonnebenan!

[disgruntledspacedad]

Better love 🎁📣 & Bonus THAT Berna Chapter 😮 "Berna has known this since he was a young boy. One only has to sit back and observe, and the rot of humanity makes itself unmistakably clear. Any man, from the humble street beggar to the most pious of priests, is capable of being stripped from his higher self, unmade into his component parts. All men will lie, steal, cheat; just as all rats scrap and scramble, fight and bite to protect their own." - what were you thinking

Any writing advice for people who want to write something like this?

Oh christ. I am Chaotic Jay. Please don’t take advice of any kind from me. Disclaimer aside -

Don’t be afraid to be inspired by canon. Is there a plot element that you love? Break down what it is that you like about it, and then think about, okay, now how can I make that happen, but different? 90% of the plot for Better Love was me doing exactly this. How can I generate the same effect without repeating canon exactly? I am little more than a scavenger, Cici.

Find some patient people and just babble nonstop to them. The best way to brainstorm is to force your thoughts into enough semblance of order that it makes sense to another human being. I cannot stress this enough.

Get Scrivener. Don’t question me. Just do it.

Research. Research. Research.

Keep your eyes and ears open. Some of my biggest inspirations and saving graces have come from the most unlikely places - helping my mom get her motorcycle unstuck from the mud, or a random ass story my grandfather told me when I was a kid. 

Notebooks. Notebooks everywhere. If you don’t jot it down while it’s fresh, it’s gone. I cannot count how many times I have pulled over on the side of the highway to get out that perfect line of dialogue that just ran trough my mind. 

Obviously stay safe, though. 

Meditate and visualize. I put myself to sleep by playing out Better Love scenes like a movie in my mind. It’s probably not great for actually sleeping, but it works wonders for my writing.

Preaching to the choir here, but don’t force it. That’s a hard lesson, and one that I am still learning. At the end of the day, writing should be fun.

What was the best piece of encouragement you got?

Lol, I once got a comment on AO3 that a girl told her horny husband to wait 20 minutes babe, The Rules of Engagement just updated. 

I haven’t had an ego boost quite like that before or since!

What was I thinking during IIF11?

Mostly oh, god, I hope I don’t lose my entire audience because they assume I’m a psychopath. 

Okay, this gets pretty dark, but a lot of Berna’s worldview - men are corrupt, men are selfish, men will do what they can get away with, when they can get away with it - is straight from the mouth of my late father. Talk about a dogma to be raised with!

Berna embraces this logic, though. Knowing that men are all the same - rats, every one of them - makes it much easier to exploit them. 

The rat metaphor is self explanatory. I just love the gravelly way that Mauricio Cujar spits “rata,” on the show. I could not resist using it here. 

I also really adore the image of a young Deigo, probably a bit of an outcast, sitting back and watching his classmates and picking them apart. His entire philosophy is that men are selfish in the extreme, and that it’s only a matter of peeling back the social facade to find that one motivation, the core component that makes them tick, and he would have learned to do this early. 

That Berna is so efficient at doing this makes him excellent at extracting information, through torture and other, more subtle methods.

Creepy? Oh, yes. Very.

“Making a man sing, commanding power over his life and voice,” is a line that was in my head from the very beginning - since before I finished ROE. Berna’s POV was one of the fundamental components to If I Fall, and probably the second scene I imagined. 

I would also argue that “stripping a man to his component parts and seeing what he’s made of” is thematic for the entirety of the Better Love ‘verse.

[theoutcastrogue]

Parallels: Olidammara the Laughing Rogue / The Cynics Diogenes and Menippus

Olidammara the Laughing Rogue (Deities & Demigods, 2002, illustration by M. Cavotta) / Diogenes bites Plato (Existential Comics #219)

1. Hecate’s Supper

Diogenes of Sinope (c. 412 – 323 BCE) was like the Oscar Wilde of his time. His snark was immensely popular, and for centuries after his death, if you wanted to say something sarcastic and make people pay attention, you'd just go ahead and say it and attribute it to him. (Which is why it's so hard today to determine what Diogenes actually said and what he didn't.) Alternatively, you could write a book with Diogenes as the protagonist, maybe another Cynic as well, and use them as your snarky mouthpieces.

That's what Lucian of Samosata (c. 125 – 180 CE) did, in his Dialogues of the Dead. These take place in Hades, and feature the philosophers Menippus of Gadara (3rd century BCE) and Diogenes, now dead, snarking from the Underworld and pumping the cynicism to eleven. And I remembered this wonderful satirical work while I was reading an old article in Dragon Magazine about Olidammara the Laughing Rogue, the classic D&D deity (in the Greyhawk pantheon) of thieves, beggars, and bards. It says:

"Shrines of Olidammara's faith are far more common than temples and may be found in urban or rural areas. Usually the shrine is just a pile of stones or an outdoor alcove bearing his mark where worshippers can pour an offering of wine or leave a bit of tasty food and a few copper coins. It is not considered an affront to the god for someone truly poor to take these coins, although stories exist of misers being punished for daring to take what is not their due."

A humble shrine to Olidammara, illustration by Andrew Hu (Dragon #342)

This bit about poor people pilfering offerings from a god's shrine was familiar. In Dialogues of the Dead, when Menippus dies, he gets immediately in trouble with Charon, the boatman, because he's supposed to have coins for the fare and he emphatically doesn't. (He's a Cynic, being penniless is his thing.) When Charon insists to be paid, Menippus wisely explains that he cannot give what he doesn't have, and when he gets frisked, all he has to show are lupin beans and a “Hecate's supper”. Now lupin beans are basically livestock food, humans only resort to them when destitute. And Hecate's supper? Well Hecate was the goddess of roads among other things, and she had shrines in street corners (particularly where three roads meet). People left offerings there every month “and these offerings were at once pounced upon by the poor, or, as here, the Cynics.”

It's not clear what Hecate thought about this plundering of her shrines, or what people imagined she thought. It's abundantly clear that the hungry didn't particularly care. But Olidammara approves as much as Menippus (and Lucian), which is pleasing. And that’s not the only parallel.

Diogenes Sitting in His Tub by Jean-Léon Gérôme (1860)

2. The rich remember

Olidammara drops some aphorisms

“Hoarded gold is no treasure. A man who lives alone with all of his money in a vault is poorer than a penniless man surrounded by merriment. What is the point of money and fine things if you cannot use them to bring you happiness? Better to spend your gold on food, wine, and music than let your mouth, ears, and mind go numb from nothingness.” 

“A cage of gold is still a cage. A man surrounded by valuable things may think he is happy, but if he cannot leave his home for fear of his possessions being stolen, and cannot touch them for fear they might break, he is not actually happy. Take the man's things so he is no longer bound to them and can be free to live as nature intended.”

Meanwhile in Hades, Diogenes messages the living

To Menippus the Cynic: If mortal subjects for laughter begin to pall, come down below, and find much richer material; it is the best of sport to see millionaires, governors, despots, now mean and insignificant; you can only tell them by their lamentations, and the spiritless despondency which is the legacy of better days.

To the rich: O vain fools, why hoard gold? why all these pains over interest sums and the adding of hundred to hundred, when you must shortly come to us with nothing beyond the dead-penny?

Menippus (detail) by Diego Velázquez (1638)

and Shades of rich men file a complaint against Menippus

CROESUS: Pluto, we can stand this snarling Cynic no longer in our neighbourhood; either you must transfer him to other quarters, or we are going to migrate. Midas here, and Sardanapalus and I, can never get in a good cry over the old days of gold and luxury and treasure, but he must be laughing at us, and calling us rude names; "slaves" and "garbage," he says we are. And then he sings; and that throws us out. In short, he is a nuisance.

MENIPPUS: All perfectly true, Pluto. I detest these abject rascals! Not content with having lived the abominable lives they did, they keep on talking about it now they are dead, and harping on the good old days. I take a positive pleasure in annoying them. Well, you scum of your respective nations, let there be no misunderstanding; I am going on just the same. Wherever you are, there shall I be also; worrying, jeering, singing you down. Yours was the presumption, when you expected men to fall down before you, when you trampled on men's liberty, and forgot there was such a thing as death. Now comes the weeping and gnashing of teeth: for all is lost! You do the whining, and I'll chime in with a string of KNOW THYSELVES, best of accompaniments.

Incredible Romero-inspired cover for Lucian's Dialogues of the Dead: An Intermediate Greek Reader (Faenum Publishing, 2015)

3. And then they diverged

Of course, Olidammara isn't all Cynic. Cynics rejected wealth and luxury altogether and snubbed everything not necessary for survival, in the name of (basically) independence. The Laughing Rogue, on the contrary, wants you to grab all the finer things in life with both hands, and have a good time.

The kernel of Olidammara's philosophy is that life should be enjoyed, for a life of misery and boredom is a life wasted. Mortals should laugh, enjoy the company of friends and the playing of music, taste good food, and drink good wine. Although he is not a hedonist and doesn't believe that mortals should be, he knows that a lifetime of meat, fruit, wine, and song is better than a a life of bread, water, and silence (unsurprisingly he has no ascetic or monk worshippers). His faithful should treat music as the art it is and strive to be as skilled at it as their patron. People should make jokes and laugh when the joke is on them, and try to avoid misery, temperance, and solemnity, for they are the greatest poison to the soul. He encourages people to practice occasional mayhem not for its own sake but to add excitement to boring lives and rattle the self-built cages of materialists.

And, to return full circle to Hecate's supper, Olidammara is something more than that. He discovered a source of fulfillment, joy, and bliss that all the squabbling philosophers in the time of Diogenes somehow failed to grasp. That shifty thieving scoundrel is sharing.

Olidammara's Aphorism: “What is good alone is better with others. Any pleasurable thing is greater when you can share it with someone else. A fine wine is sweeter when raised in toast to a friend. A romantic song is stronger as a duet. A good meal is more savory when shared with a hungry man. A memory is richer when reminiscing with someone who was there.”

And you know what? I’ll drink to that.

Illustration by Andrew Hu (Dragon #342)

[All excerpts about the Laughing Rogue are from the article “Core Beliefs: Olidammara” by Sean K. Reynolds (Dragon #342, 2006). All excerpts of Dialogues of the Dead are from The Works of Lucian of Samosata, transl. Henry Watson Fowler and Francis George Fowler (1905).]

[stealth-skills]

Group America (90s): An old picture of Vojislav “Voya the American” Raičević, right, and Veselin “Teddy Bear” Raičević, left. Vojislav Raicevic, aka Voja the American, was the chief executor of the "America" ​​clan, whose members were mostly Montenegrins trained in America. The "Americans" are said to have represented Milosevic's death squad and to have a list according to which they killed for service. It can be said that they were "Zemun citizens before Zemun citizens", that they performed dirty work for the state. It is said that they cleaned up almost the entire Voždovac clan, as well as other unsuitable fierce guys, but also journalists and politicians. Allegedly, the "Americans" cooperated with the Serbian and Montenegrin services all the time. The Ministry of the Interior spoke of this clan as a group consisting of the Raicevic brothers, the Roganovic brothers and others, and an informant named "Srecko" reveals details: That the clan consisted of a core of 15 professional assassins a death squad carrying out contract killings. He cited two high-ranking police officers, one from Serbia and the other, as associates of the clan from Montenegro. Srećko asked for a settlement, that the police guarantee his safety and that he would tell everything, but since he did not receive guarantees, he disappeared. Seselj was the first to speak publicly about the "Americans" when he accused the head of the DB, Jovica Stanisic, of killing his death squads in Serbia. Allegedly, the connection between Montenegrins from America and the Serbian DB was Boško Radonjić, the head of the Irish mafia in New York and a good friend of the last great Italian godfather, John Gotti. It is said that when Radonjić came to Serbia in the early 1990s because he was being tried in America for influencing the jury that tried Gotija, Stanišić personally assigned him security. When the clan was formed, it was allegedly headed by Joca Amsterdam, who is leaving Serbia due to the accusation that he ordered the murder of Goran Marjanović Bombaš. Then, at the head of the clan comes Voja, who worked for the Italian mafia in America until he hooked up with some and had to come here. In the middle of the nineties, Voja organized, but he also carried out many liquidations. They say that he was extremely skilful, he did not hesitate to disguise himself as a beggar or a woman in order to approach the victim. It is said that when Ćenta blackmailed the head of a man for 80,000 marks, Voja did it and went to Ćaldović, but he made him say: "You killed someone? Don't make me laugh, look at yourself!" It will cost him his head. The next time they met, but through a crosshairs. Voja allegedly killed Ćenta in the center of Belgrade together with journalist Maja Pavić, Ceca's godfather. Although Voja was close to Arkan's godfather Milan Djordjevic Bombon and although Arkan did not like Centa, because Voja killed his godfather and Colonel Garda, Shuca (the first husband of Legija's second wife), Arkan was very angry. Jenta and Jusa did not like Arkan, but there was respect between them because, together with Ashanin and the late Ljubo and Giška, they formed an old guard of fierce guys and used to work together abroad. By killing Jenta and Maja, Voja gained powerful enemies, Jus and Arkan. Besides them, the Americans were already at war with the people of Surčin. The agreement between the Belgrade bosses and the top of the police that Voja must leave allegedly fell. His former friends Rogo and Bojan Petrović, with whom he held "Stupica" together with Ćenta's son-in-law Mišo Cvijetinović, kidnap Voja, film him and torture him in order to admit that he killed Ćenta. Misha's motive was revenge, while the other two wanted to take over Voj's affairs. Allegedly, Bojan held him, Rogo shot him 4 times in the shoulder until he confessed, and then Misha Tiger shot him in the head. Bojan allegedly cooperated with the Americans before, who did Goran Vukovic in order for Petrovic to take over the affairs of his former friend. The soldier's body was not found, but it is said that he was butchered, and parts of the body were thrown into the Danube or buried somewhere. After that, Vojin's protector Bombon and Luka Pejović were killed (a member of the "America" ​​clan and, according to the former head of the DB, Goran Petrović, Ćuruvija's killer). After Vojin's murder, war begins on the streets of Belgrade! The soldier's friends take general revenge and eliminate everyone they suspected of being involved. There were about twenty names on the alleged list, the most famous of which were: Rogo, Petrović, Miša, Jusa, Badža, Šijan, Ašanin, Kundak, two police colonels and many others ... According to informant Srećko, Mileta Miljanić Mike took the lead. clan, and the direct perpetrators of the murders that followed as revenge for Voja were: Veselin Raicevic Medo, Zeljko Maksimovic Maka, Ivan Delic Ico and Nikola Maljkovic Maljavi. Mike was sentenced in Greece to 40 years for smuggling 114 kilograms of cocaine. Ico allegedly killed Defense Minister Pavle Bulatovic. Maka killed a policeman who tried to identify him in '95, and in 2002 he was accused that his group that took over the American clan, known as the "Maka group", organized the assassination of General Boško Buha, although there are indications that Zemun people set it up as they would drive them out of Belgrade. After the war in the underground at the end of the 1990s, it was obvious that Stanišić had let go of the reins and that the DB no longer controlled the mafia. After the stories that he and Arkan intend to betray Milosevic, he will be replaced, and the old mafia lose the protection of the state. He will be replaced by Radomir Markovic, the first man next to him will be the commander of the strongest unit, Milorad Ulemek (Legija), and the new clan in charge of dirty business: Zemunski. Thus a new death squad was born.  

[goddessofeternity]

Chronicles of the Supernovas: Chosen

Callum

Chapter 6: Lost Children

“Help me….”

I paused and raised an eyebrow as I heard a voice. “Masami? Are you alright?” I glanced down the hall as my wife turned the corner from the kitchen. She pursed her lips as she handed me a bag full of food for our mission.

“I’m fine Callum. Are you ok?”

“Yes, I just thought I heard something. I thought you were asking for help with something. It might have just been nothing…”

“Are you sure? You have been off in your head a lot lately.”

‘That’s because I’ve been distracted by your secret.’ I brushed that thought away as I pulled her close and kissed her head. “Just really focused on work angel. Plus, I’m trying to plan out our anniversary. I think this mission is going to take some time. I’m afraid that I might miss it now.”

“Don’t you worry about that Callum. We have so many years of anniversaries to get through. Missing a few here and there will not ruin us. Besides, when you are done, we can go somewhere. This gives me more time to think of what to get you.”

“You never have to get me anything angel. Having you by my side has always been enough.” She giggled and snuggled into my chest as I kissed her head again. “I do hope this doesn’t take that long though.”

“When you get back we can continue our fun from earlier?” She looked up at me and batted her eyelashes as she stroked my beard. “That is if you aren’t too tired…”

“I always have enough energy for you Masami.” I lifted her up by her thighs and she wrapped her legs around my waist. “We could have a round right now if you’d like?”

“You have an assignment to do. I suggested when you come back so we can have a nice long loving session.” She kissed me gently before she got down from my arms. “You just let me know when you’re almost done. I’ll make your favorite.” 

“Ok angel...I’ll try to finish this quickly.” She gave me one last kiss before she waved at me as I went to the door. I stopped just before I grabbed the handle. I should ask her now, especially if we might miss our anniversary. The thought would pague me the entire time. It was now or never. I turned around quickly as Masami looked at me with a raised brow.

“Is something wrong?”

“Masami I…” Her gentle smile warmed my heart and I just couldn’t do it. I’d hate to confront her before I leave and we get into a fight about it. That was the last thing I wanted to happen between us. “I’ll miss you angel.”

“I will miss you too my love…” She blew me a kiss as I left our home. I teleported away to Lady Serafina’s temple to meet with the others. I heard Celica and Nim arguing with each other before I opened the door. Sighing deeply, I entered Lady Serafina’s throne room and smiled a bit at the bickering of Nim and Celica. Lady Serfina paid them no mind as she conversed with Ka’seem. I really wished that the two of them could get along when we aren’t on the field. They work exceptionally well together in a fight, but off field they are vicious. 

“Hey Callum! Ready to kick some ass?” I shook my head at Nerissa as she stretched out her legs on the floor. 

“I’m hoping that it won’t come to that honestly...the less fighting the better.”

“Oh there’s no fun in that…” She pouted like a child and I patted her head as I walked over to the others. Celica threw her hand up into Nim’s face effectively ending their squabble as she looked at me with a small smile.

“You all set to go Callum?”

“Yes I am. Are you?”

“Oh I’ve been ready to go. The dog was just giving me some “helpful” advice.” Nim was still seething as he growled low in his throat. “Oh? Something you have to say? Speak boy...come on I have a biscuit for you~”

“Listen you rat faced bitch! How about I put my foo-”

“Alright alright you two. Stop the fighting and let’s get going.” I turned Nim away from Celica and walked him over to Ka’seem and Lady Serafina. “You really need to stop letting her get to you. The both of you have been friends for far too long for this.”

“Friends? Tch...I wouldn’t even call us associates…”

“My apologies...I meant comrade in arms.”

“Yeah right…” He rolled his eye dramatically and I chuckled at his annoyed face.

“Come on Nim...I know that you at least respect her...somewhat…”

“I respect her skill as a fighter and status as a Goddess, but her personality is shit just like her fucking face. The woman is rotten to the core. It’s like her soul purpose in life is to be an annoying bitch.”

“Right…” I could feel the conversation going to a more negative place, but thankfully Ka’seem and Lady Serafina were done with their conversation. “Has there been any changes?”

“Nah...we’re all set to go. I just wanted to get a scope of the planet. I actually haven’t been here before, but that might have to do with Celica being stingy in her jurisdiction.”

“I just don’t want you running around my area and fucking something up.

“Hey...it’s not like I knew I was carrying an invasive species on my person….”

“It took years for that planet to recover Ka’seem. I don’t care if you and your pantheon show up in my jurisdiction. I just want you all to be more careful and aware.”

“Yes yes my bad..” Lady Serafina tucked away a planet she was constructing to address us. We lined up in front of her as she smiled at us.

“My Supernovas...I need you to exercise caution as you partake in this mission. We have no idea the scope of what the Darkness could be planning. I need you all to be through but also safe. I suspect that this is not one isolated incident. I have other things I must attend to with the other Gods and Goddesses. If you really need my assistance, you may contact me. Bring these poor beings back to their homes and families my Novas. I wish you all the very best of luck and look out for each other.” With a delicate twirl of her hand, Lady Serafina opened a portal leading to our destination.

“Thank you Lady Serafina!” We all coursed as one before we set out through the portal. After a brief blinding light, we found ourselves in a deep thicket of trees. Small creatures scurried away from us as we put away our weapons. The last thing we wanted was to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves. I handed the others their food from Masami and they tucked it away into the pocket dimensions we each had for our weapons. 

“Oh Callum...have I ever mentioned how much I love your wife and how she takes care of us?” I chuckled as Nerissa took a few bites of her food and moaned in happiness.

“All the time Nerissa.” Before Masami came into our lives we would pretty much be on our own in regards to food on our missions. Most of the time we just ate what was available, which was never the best and we ended up sick. It was a struggle not to eat everything at once. Everyone often tried to pick at their food so as not to eat it all. Nerissa was already struggling on that front.

“Callum, you’re still glowing…” Celica said to me as she walked over. “You look like a damn lighthouse…”

“Oh sorry...I always forget…” Our usual godly glow was not often noticeable when in our temples or realm of the Gods. Mortal beings always lost their composure when they encountered a God. If the Darkness was really here, then our presence had to be as masked as possible. “Let’s head out and meet back up in four hours.”

“Right…” Ka’seem and Celica followed me as Nim and Nerissa went in their own direction. It was a short walk to the...village, if you could even call it that. Most of the homes were damaged and in the process of walking apart. Beggars were leaned up against decayed buildings and others were drunk and stumbling down the streets. Most looked at us with cautious eyes and others just shot us dirty glares as we walked through the village. A few buildings seemed intact, and I nodded at Celica and Ka’seem and they broke off to gather information. I looked around trying to figure out the best approach so as not to scare them off. 

“Change sir?” Feeling a tug on my pants, I looked down at a man, who looked no more than thirty with rotting teeth and a crooked smile. “Money?”

“Oh of course…” I knelt down and put some money into his hands. His eyes widened before he laughed and coughed. He clutched his chest in pain for a second, and I frowned deeply in worry.

“Do you need medical assistance?”

“I need more money...you're gonna get mugged out here with that much money on you.”

“I will take my chances.”

“You aren’t from around here are you?”

“Is it that easy to tell?” I stood back up as he smiled darkly at me. I didn’t want to risk him attacking me this early on. “I thought I was being inconspicuous.”

“A funny guy...you won’t last here.”

“Why is that?” He narrowed his eyes at me when I asked and he scoffed and looked away from me. I probably shouldn’t push the question but I needed information. “Is there a reason I should be worried about? I figured this was a quiet place despite all the crumbled buildings and such.”

“Your curiosity could get you killed here…”

“Oh?” I knelt back down and looked him hard in the eyes as I pulled a large bag of money out. “If you tell me what I want to know...then I can easily get you off the street.”

“So paying me is how you want information?”

“It seems to be the language you want to speak. I’m just acting accordingly. Now...do you want the money or not?” I jiggled the bag in front of him as his frown deepened. 

“As much as it might seem that I want money...that isn’t what I truly want.”

“Well...what is it that you want?” I watched curiously as his face changed and a deep sadness displayed in his eyes. I figured he was lying, but now I knew that he wasn’t. I didn’t want to press further for his sake, but I knew it would hopefully solve both of our issues.

“I can help-”

“No you can’t!” He roared at me as he stood up. “No one gives a damn about this sad planet! Nor does anyone care for its people!” He spit at my feet and grunted angrily as he walked away.

“That could have gone better….” I rubbed my head as I walked deeper into the town to see if the others had any luck. I spotted Celica by a broken water fountain glaring down at a homeless man who glared right back. I walked up next to her and raised a concerned eyebrow at their silent contest.

“Celica….”

“He’s thinking that he’s intimidating...but I can assure you that you’re not…” 

“Celica...stop it...I can see his breath….” Celica blinked hard and the air lost its chill. The man stopped his shivering but the glare continued nevertheless. “I think you should stop making my friend so angry...she gets rather unpleasant when she has her fits.”

“I do not have fits…” She scoffed at me and threw her hands on her hips. “I know that he knows something and he’s being a bitch about it.”

“The only bitch I see around here is you!”

“You little-” I pulled her away before her boot connected with the man’s face. Moving her behind a building, I gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. “I was only going to break him a little bit.”

”Low profile Celica….we need to find Ka’seem now. I haven’t seen him in quite some time.”

“He might have found something not in the town. Although there is something that I have noticed and I don’t like it one bit.”

“What would that be?” She crossed her arms and let out a breath as she gave me a hard, but worried look.

“I haven’t seen a single child…” My eyes widened as I turned and looked around the empty square. She was right. Even those who were homeless and poor, managed to have children of their own.   Seeing at least one child would have been preferred. Perhaps that is why it seemed eerily quiet in the town,  we were sent to a relatively populated area, but it seemed that it was not the case. 

“The Darkness….”

“It has been some time since the Darkness did anything with children. The thought of it is making me sick, and is making this a more urgent matter.” She shuffled in place before she huffed and walked off. “I’m going to check  that bar and see if I can find anything. Callum...we can’t allow the Darkness to massacre children again...not again.”

“I know Celica...go.” She nodded before heading to the bar. I wasted no time either as I went looking around the town. I needed someone, anyone to tell me what was going on in this place. The people on this planet are too closed off and scared. Whatever happened here happened recently, but it also gives us an advantage. There was still time to hopefully find the kidnapped children, and that was only if they hadn't been killed yet.

“Please…” I stopped as I heard a prayer pass through my mind. I stopped abruptly as I heard crying in a nearby alleyway. I furrowed my brow as I went to investigate it. I stopped as  I saw a woman in deep prayer with her face pressed into the dirt. I knelt beside her and placed my hand on her trembling shoulder, she didn’t even flinch as she kept saying her prayer.

“Ma’am...are you alright?” She finally looked up at me and her eyes shone with fresh tears ready to fall any second. “What is making you upset?”

“M-My son...he was t-taken from me…” I straightened my shoulders back as I frowned deeply.

“Who took your son?”

“It doesn’t matter. How would you be able to help me? No one cares about the people here...no one cares about my son!”

“I care ma’am. I specifically came here to assist the people here. Just tell me what happened to all of the children in this town.” I smiled at her to ease a bit of her worries and it seemed to work as she wiped her eyes and fully faced me.

“T-The children started being taken about a month ago. Men in dark clothes came and demanded that we hand our children over. Most of the adults offered themselves, but they were only interested in the children. Those that fought were killed quickly or injured for their actions. I tried to take my son and leave but...but I wasn’t quick enough.”

“I’m sorry…” She burst into tears again and my heart ached for her and the other parents that lost their children. “What did your son look like?”

“He...he has short curly hair like mine and bright g-green eyes. His name is Brian and he has a mole on his left shoulder. He’s a sweet boy...he doesn’t deserve this…”

“I will bring your son back to you...my friends and I will bring back all of the children who have been taken from their families.”

“W-What?” Her face betrayed the hope I could hear in her voice, but I smiled regardless and she gave me a weak one back. “You..you will? How?”

“My friends and I do deeds like this for a living. I will bring Brian back, I promise.” 

“Thank you! Thank you!” As I stood up, she knelt at my feet and cried harder. “Bless you sir...I thank the gods for your kindness!” 

“You don’t need to thank me. You just hold on a bit longer, that is all that I ask.” She nodded as I handed her a tissue and she wiped at her face. Leaving her alone, an unimaginable sadness flowed right through me. I knew that I should have never promised to bring her son back. The Darkness had always been an unhinged force. I know when we inform the others about the missing children they will all have the same thought.

Almost half of the missing...will be dead.

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

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[the-ship-maker-2]

Tabby Anderson’s Backstory

It’s finally done. After a whole month of working on this. It’s done.

TW: Death, child abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse, bullying, offensive language, mentions of suicide, homicide.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING.

      So….I probably should tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Tabithia Roxanne Anderson but please call me Tabby. I am seventeen years old and I have a slew of disorders. Starting with narcolepsy, insomnia, anxiety, OCD, PTSD, and paranoia. We’re probably missing a few others because therapists and doctors can’t do their jobs in diagnostics correctly…but anyways… I digress, I’ll get to that part later on in the story….

      Anyways from the time I was born I was already at a disadvantage. My mother Shanna Wolfe had me with my biological dad Michael Anderson. My mother… how do I describe her… she’s a good person all around for the most part… She has a big heart and is very compassionate… very moraled and loyal too. But she’s not very bright and she lacks the ability to stand up for herself to which she couldn’t stand up for me. My biological dad was the complete opposite. He was intelligent and able to stand up to anyone….if that included getting over on other people and standing up to anyone who was weaker than him. He was a coward and a bully. I came to despise him later on in life as I got older. He’s dead now thank thy lord. He died when I was twelve due to pneumonia and drug overdose. He was always into drugs as far as I knew growing up but he didn’t get into the hardcore drugs like heroin and meth later on. But I’m getting ahead of myself. As a child I remember only getting three to four hours of sleep at night (My insomnia wasn’t diagnosed at the time yet) and seeing the bruises on my mother’s face on her eyes and cheekbones. My mother was abused mentally, verbally, emotionally, and physically. Always listening to them arguing. I myself got lucky somehow. I was just neglected by my dad. 

      I remember my mom telling me this story once or so. I was left by myself. My dad was upstairs with the neighbors getting high on weed and other things. My mom was at work at the time. She used to work at a nursing and rehabilitation center called The Hills as a CNA before she got fired. Sometimes she would bring me to work if she really couldn’t find a babysitter and I would sit in the lounge watching the two movies I brought with me. Which was always Bartok the Magnificent and Shark Tale. But anyways I was left by myself and I saw something on the coffee table. Turns out they were pain pills on a high dosage. It was brightly colored and I thought it was candy so I was about to take them. My mom walked through the front door just in the nick of time. She screamed at me and snatched me away from the coffee table. I was confused but later on in life I was thankful for what she did. Later on that night I heard them getting into a fight about what happened. My mother lost of course but she still tried to do what was right as a mother for once. I was four years old.

      One of the stories that I really remember is when my grandmother came to visit. My dad’s mother. It was my first traumatic event. He was too lazy to get his own drugs which were just weed at the time from a couple of blocks down where his drug dealer was. He threatened my grandmother at knife point saying how if she doesn’t get his drugs then he’ll slit her throat. My dumbass at the time came out of my room and down the stairs so I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. He saw me and with lightning speed came over to me and held the same knife at me thoat. I began to cry. My dad said that If I didn’t stop crying and if I didn’t get his drugs then He would kill me, my mom and grandmother. So I was reduced to sniffles and agreed. He gave me the address which was literally down the street just five houses down. I’ve seen the house before all the time due to mom taking me to go to the park to play. So I knew where to go. I did what I was told and no one was killed thankfully. That was the last straw for my mother when she found out. She packed up our stuff that actually belonged to us and took me with her out of that house that we were living in. That’s really the only time I can remember when my mother actually stood up for me and did her actual job as a mother. I was also four at the time.

      We got our own apartment pretty quickly. It was on the other side of town. It wasn’t the good part of town, lots of drug users and dealers and drunks in my neighborhood. But we were poor and it was the cheapest that we could get for rent. But my mom got it all on her own and well beggars can’t be choosers. However, even with this new found freedom she still lacked the ability to stand up for herself. Like I said before she’s very compassionate and is just too good for her own good. She would bring home random strangers she met on the streets to “help them back up on their feet” in exchange for helping around the house and babysitting me. But in reality they were just there for the pussy and free ride. They used my mom in every way possible. And that’s what started my severe distrust and dislike of males in general. I assumed that just about every male was like that since that seemed to be the same pattern with every person she brought in.  I was still neglected so I learned to do the basics of taking care of myself. I learned how to get myself up on time, I learned to bathe myself and I learned to make canned soup, cereal, and sandwiches, and I learned to keep myself occupied. I’m honestly still asking myself how the fuck am I still alive? Because It’s already dangerous enough bringing home strangers from the streets especially if there’s a kid involved. I mean who knows what could happen if i was left alone with strangers who clearly didn’t give two fucks about me. Miraculously I’m still alive and I was just neglected like usual. 

       I…have this gift that is the core of my intuition.I can just see through a person easily and figure out what their true intentions are vaguely. I’ve always been highly intuitive on top of being able to see the paranormal. I could always vaguely tell if a person is good or bad with just a minute of looking at them. And with every person she brought home I always felt uncomfortable and I can just tell that they had bad intentions. I always tried to tell my mom about each person that she brought home but like with every adult that I ever encountered she brushed me off and told me that I was wrong. But I knew better. I knew I wasn’t wrong. God, looking back on it now, one of the few good things that I miss about my younger self is the amount of self confidence that I had that I lost over the years. Eventually I stopped trying to tell my mother about the various people that she brought home and just kept everything to myself. I mean why keep trying the same thing that I know doesn’t work? Anyways I just focused more on myself for my own survival since my mom wouldn’t listen to me. My mom actively made the choices to bring home these people so she knew what she was doing and I didn’t worry about her. Let her have the consequences of her own actions. I had and still don’t have sympathy for her. 

      Then on that fateful day, he came along.

       I came home from preschool one day. I opened up the door to see my mom standing there and this strange man sitting on our couch. We locked eyes. His piercing icy blue eyes met my unnaturally wide hazel eyes that still take up 50% of my face. As I said before I can read people easily and normally have a very good intuition about them after a few minutes. But…strangely enough…I couldn’t read him for the life of me. He gave nothing away which piqued my curiosity. After all, who was this strange man? What was he doing here? What were his intentions with my mother? And why can’t I read him like I can with everyone else? After what seemed like an awkward forever of sizing each other up my mom Introduced us. We exchanged names. He said that his name was Michael Timothy Mulleney jr. My mom said she was going to the store real quick and she left me alone with him to babysit me. I approached him with cautious optimism. He just felt different from the others that mom brought home. We made small talk to get to know each other and we used to have a lot in common. We both liked video games and disney and other things. I took an instant liking to him and that happened with no adult family or not especially males in particular. He was different. He was unlike anyone I ever met. I was naive and didn’t know any better back then. My mom finally came home and she found me curled up on his lap, napping to Peter Pan. Which is why I will forever love Peter Pan because it was the first thing he introduced me to and overall it just reminds me of a better time in my childhood when I was happy and I had my dad/best friend back then. I think she was honestly surprised to find out that I hadn’t chased him out of the house. So she took that as a sign to bring him around more often and to keep him.

     He came around more often after that. We were a handful to each other. I was used to adults neglecting me. So I was used to having to do everything myself and I never really asked for help. I wasn’t used to having to be taken care of and asking for permission to have stuff. So there were fights over that. Which was really frustrating to me because he requested a two hour nap every time he came over first. He had a weird sleep schedule. He’s a night owl. So I had to keep myself occupied and wait for him to wake up. If I was hungry then I was hungry and I wasn’t going to wait for him. Ain’t no one has the time for that. Eventually we established a boundary and compromised. If I waited for him to wake up then I could still have my freedom of doing things myself as long as I was supervised. He’d let me do whatever since I’ve shown him that I could take care of myself as long as he stood in whatever doorway to the room of whatever activity I was doing to make sure I didn’t hurt myself or break anything and to periodically check up on me. 

       I was also not used to rules and consequences and routine. Since I was loosely taken care of, meaning that I was fed, showered, went to school, and not dead. Adults wanted nothing to do with me and my mother was always too busy to establish any rules or consequences. If she did it wasn’t consistent so I just did whatever I wanted for the most part. My life was nothing but chaos with the amount of people coming and going. My step dad was the first to establish rules and consequences which resulted in a lot of time outs and early bedtimes. He never used to hit me or abuse me verbally, emotionally or mentally. Eventually I learned to follow the rules and we established a routine. It was nap time for him when he first walked through the door and I had a few hours to keep myself occupied while I waited for him to wake up. When he did wake up we would do whatever together, I got as many snacks that I wanted, we played with my stuffed animals, play-wrestled with each other, we would color, watch tv, sometimes he would take me to the park and play with me since other kids wouldn’t. Around 6pm it was dinner time I had whatever my mom left for me in the fridge. Or I had spaghettios. After that it was shower time, then I picked up my toys, then I would watch family guy with him (My mom didn’t really care what I watched back then as long as it wasn’t pornography). Then it was bedtime. 

      You see before he met my mom. He recently came out of a 12 year relationship with his ex girlfriend. And he has two other kids. His oldest came to us by accident later on in my life and I became the middle child. Anyways, She cut off all contact with him in his kids so he couldn’t see them and take care of them anymore. Since he was free now he became more reckless since he really wasn’t tied down anywhere anymore and he had nothing to lose. In a sense I was his redemption as a parent and as he spent more time with my mom and I the less reckless he became. He settled down because it was like ‘oh shit there’s a kid involved here I can’t do that anymore’. 

      During those times where he would come over he’d teach me a lot of life skills. He taught me how to pick up after myself. He taught me self defense and how to fight a little, just in case I ever found myself in trouble and there was no other option. Heh… who knew that would pay off during my years at Rosewood and in my life now. The moves and stances are the foundation of my fighting style which is more on the defensive side. He taught me how to cook basic meals, hard boiled eggs, ramen, mac and cheese, and spaghetti. Which he helped me discover my passion for cooking. I had a job in a restaurant working in the kitchen before I quit because of my left hand. He taught me how to read and write. Which he helped me discover my passion for reading and writing. I was always writing stories with my limited vocabulary and I would pull all nighters discreetly finishing my masterpieces. I am the picasso of literature. More importantly he was someone that I could talk to. I never had anyone to do that with save for Autumn later on. I told him everything and anything and he told me everything and anything. Well what was appropriate for a four year old to know. He told me stories about his life from when he was a kid. He was the first person to step up and be the father figure and raise me when my own mother and family wouldn’t. I owe him indefinitely and despite all the abuse and shit he put me through I can never hate him fully. That year and a half of my life was one of the happiest years of my childhood. I thought it would last forever. 

      I mentioned before that I could see the paranormal. At first it was just tall lanky shadowy figures of various sizes. I never figured out what they were really called so I just called them what I saw them as. Tall, lanky shadowy figures I didn’t think too much of them since all they did was just watch and they weren’t causing me harm. I just went with the flow. Sometimes they would come to me other times they would not. It was a hit or miss. On the times that the shadowy figures would show up I would talk about my day, what was bothering me, or just what was on my mind at the time with my limited four year old vocabulary. I was young and lonely and I did not understand the concept of filtering and giving out too much information.  As I got older the shadowy figures’s visit became less and less frequent. Occasionally they would show up and I would give them a nod in acknowledgement and have a conversation with them. I used to believe that that would be the extent of my abilities.

     But one night it became so much more than that.

     It started out as any average day in my life.It was cloudy. I woke up, ate, showered, and kept myself occupied by watching some movies or playing with my toys. But the entire day just felt off… Like you know how cats and dogs can tell if there’s a thunderstorm coming and the act all weird? It was like that for me. There was an ominous feel in the air like something bad was going to happen. I just didn’t know what at the time. At first I thought something bad was going to happen to my mom. So I begged her not to go into work that day but she brushed me off and told me not to worry about her and that she would be fine. She didn’t listen to me like usual. 

      Now despite my mom still having strangers in the house she realized that none of them were going to babysit me finally. Even my step dad wasn’t around the whole time. And it was one of those days where he couldn’t babysit me. So I was bounced around from babysitter to babysitter. Sometimes it was other family members other times it was just whatever my mom could find to hire. I never lasted a week with any of them. With other family members it was because I interrupted their lives and they saw me as extra baggage and didn’t want anything to do with me. They always found some sort of excuse to return me back early to my mom. So it was nice to know that I wasn’t wanted by my own biological family. As for the strangers that my mom hired I just simply didn’t like them. I gave them as much as a hard time that I could. They lacked common human decency and respect. They knew nothing of the routines in my household when I did. They told me that no that’s not it. Like? Bitch I live here you don’t. What do you know about my life in my household? My thing was don’t tell me what to do when you don’t know dick about shit about my household. This is what started my severe hatred for adults. 

      Anyways, this time my babysitter was a stranger that my mom managed to hire. A fifteen year old blonde petite girl by the name of Maggie Hemmington. At the time I thought she was an adult but then again anyone older than 10 is an adult to you when you’re four years old. She wore stuff that expressed she was into the occult stuff. When she came over that day the feeling of something bad was going to happen jumped to 1000. I became more insistent and screaming, crying and begging my mom to not leave me alone with her. But again my mom brushed me off and tried to reassure me the best she could. In the end she left for work and me alone with that bitch. The day was awful with lots of fights and screaming at each other. She was just an awful person; she didn’t even do her job. I still had to go and take care of myself. Eventually she made me go to bed early saying that she was going to have friends over and she didn’t want a brat like me to get in the way. Which she wasn’t supposed to have friends over to begin with but after the day I had I was more than happy to oblige. The quicker I went to sleep, the quicker I could wake up and have it be the next day. So like the good kid I once was I went up to my room and surprisingly I actually fell asleep naturally.

    It was around midnight or so I would like to believe. I honestly don’t remember much of what happened that night. I only remember what I remember due to months of pushing through the painful headaches and flashbacks that have accompanied me ever since. I don’t remember the full story so I’m probably missing a few parts but I remember enough to piece together a semi complete story. 

    Anyways I believe it was midnight or so. I remember waking up to Maggie and her friends screaming. I was scared and confused as to what was happening. Hindsight is 20/20 I probably should have just stayed in bed. Although to be honest I don’t think that this night wouldn’t have ended differently even if I did just stay in bed. And in all actuality I didn’t hate her or any of her friends for that matter. At least, not enough to leave them to their deaths. What if they were in trouble? I was the only there that could do anything. If i didn’t that would make me a coward and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. What if they were dead? Then what? If I did go down there and saw what I saw if they were dead how would I explain what I saw to the police? To my mom? All these questions and choices ran through my head. However, my pride and what little compassion that I had got in the way. I didn’t raise myself to be a coward and i wasn’t going to start then and they sounded like they were in trouble. They needed me. So I made the choice to sneak downstairs to see what was up and figure it out from there. The apartment itself was quite old so the staircase was creaky. However, there were spots that weren’t creaky, I knew where they were. Going down the stairs was like doing an intricate dance to avoid the creaky spots. I crouched down halfway down the staircase. The apartment had dim lighting as it was so there were lots of shadows all over the place. I was wearing a black nightshirt and I was tan  and small enough to hide in the shadows. I looked through the bars of the stairs and I saw Maggie and her friends huddled together with the look of absolute fear in their eyes staring straight ahead and a ouija board in front of them. I couldn’t see what they were seeing at the time. But I could feel a dark and powerful aura that was around. It was uncomfortable and overwhelming. It was almost suffocating. The…entity…as I called it because I didn’t know what it was since I couldn’t see it but I could feel it and hear it. All that I knew was that it was a malicious entity. It kept coming closer to where I was hiding. I crouched down more to make myself appear smaller. But the entity snatched me up and as far as I knew I was levitating in thin air. The entity had a suffocating grip on me. I don’t remember much because Maggie, her friends and I were too busy screaming, crying, and I was trying to fight my way out. I even tried to bite the entity but that only resulted in it tightening its grip on me even more. Maggie was trying to negotiate a different price for summoning the entity, Since it said that it required a sacrifice as a price for summoning it. And well…I was it. After hours of screaming, crying and negotiating they came to a compromise. What that compromise was I have no idea to this day. But all I remember is a pressure on my forehead and just a flood of painful life truths and knowledge on more paranormal creatures and how to deal with them. I was screaming and crying in pain and agony. It was too much all at once and I felt like my head was going to explode. The night seemed to go on for forever to me…I thought that it would never end. Until it did. After the entity was done I blacked out I can’t tell you what happened after even if I tried. This is why to this day I don’t fuck with horror movies, witchcraft, and ouija boards. I don’t go actively looking for stuff that I don’t understand what I’m dealing with.

      The next morning I woke up back in my room in my own bed. I had a painful headache in the center of my forehead, like the equivalent of a really bad hangover. I was really confused as to what happened last night. I knew something happened, I just didn’t know what. That is until the painful knowledge that I received last night came flowing back like a flood. I was crying and screaming in agony until the flashbacks subsided. My mom came running in to see what was wrong. She asked me what was wrong. But I couldn’t tell her the truth of what really happened last night. She wouldn’t have believed me anyways. Instead I just cuddled up to her and held onto her tight and just cried until I ran out of tears and was reduced to a sniffling, hiccupping mess. I just suffered in silence while my mom rubbed my back and petted my hair. 

     The next three months was a bitch to deal with. I was a mess. I still did what I needed to do. I went to preschool although I was more antisocial than usual and I was more jumpy. I was just more of a broken quiet, my wide hazel eyes had a haunted look to them on top of them being slightly sunken back and I had dark circles under them, I wasn’t sleeping much during those three months. I was an awful sight. I was almost sickly skinny, I wasn’t eating much for those three months as well. It was evident that I was a shell of my former self. After preschool, I ate the bare minimum to stay alive and to shower when I had the energy to do so. I didn’t want to be out of my room longer than I had to. I was afraid the entity would come back for me. The rest of the time I laid in bed with my covers pulled up, staring at the wall or ceiling for hours on end just empty headed and crying when the flashbacks and nightmares occurred. The worst part was that I was alone. Mom was either working or sleeping and she knew that my trauma had to do with Maggie so my mom stopped with the babysitters and just left me alone. She wasn’t supposed to but she didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t tell my step dad about what happened. And I used to tell this man everything and anything. Back then we didn’t have secrets with each other. But I couldn’t tell him…this. He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. The only ones that I told were my friends when they gained enough trust. So I kept it to myself. My step dad didn’t push me back then. He knew when to back off and respect my boundaries. He dropped it when I didn’t want to talk about it. He knew something happened to me but didn’t know what. He checked up on me when he was there to make sure I was okay and got a little bit of something to eat. 

     A month has passed and my step dad had enough of me being bed ridden. He gave me this piece of advice that I live by to this day. He sat on my bed and rubbed my back. It was a particularly bad day. The flashbacks and headaches were non stop and sleep was non existent. He was saying how he could tell that I was scared and he hated seeing me like this everyday. He also said that he knew that I wasn’t a coward and he knew a way to help me face any fear that I would have. That caught my attention so I sat up a little to pay better attention. He told me this: The more you know the less you have anything to be afraid of. After all you can’t be afraid of something if you know what that thing is. He left me alone after that and it was something to think about. 

      I gave myself a week to think about it. By Friday I decided that I had enough. I didn’t want to be stuck in bed. I was tired of the constant flashbacks and headaches. I was tired of living in fear. It’s not a fun way to live as I would discover that realization again later on in my life, and guess what? That night when I made my decision to start not being afraid anymore was the first night that sleep overcame me with no flashbacks and headaches the following day. I guess as I started to make peace with what I was about to do had something to do with that too.

      The next day before my mom left for work and my step dad came over to babysit me I told them my decision and asked if I could go to the library. I figured that the first step to not being afraid is getting everything on that subject. My mom agreed and left her library card for us to use (I didn’t get my own until I was six). I think my mom was just relieved that I wasn’t going to be bedridden anymore and that I was actually going out to get some fresh air. After my mom left, I grabbed  my black backpack that he gave me and we went to the library. I got every book I could on the supernatural and how to deal with them. I definitely got some confused and concerned looks from the librarians and my step dad. I ignored the librarians and my step dad didn’t push it. I assumed that he picked up on the type of books that I was getting and figured out what I was scared of but he was more than willing to help me conquer my fears. We checked them out and we had a month with them before we had to return them. My backpack was so filled that it made me look like an oversized turtle. I wasn’t a good reader back then mainly due to reading comprehension. It wasn’t my strong suit back then. But I was one hell of a writer. So even though he was confused on the subjects that I picked, he helped out with reading the books and helped me take down notes. The more I understood the less I was becoming less and less afraid.

      The next step to me for not being afraid was getting the full story on what happened that night. To tell you the truth I honestly didn’t really remember what happened exactly. I remember bits and pieces of what happened due to flashbacks and memories but not in order. and I don’t remember what happened after I blacked out.My thought process was that I can finally understand and not be afraid anymore if I learned the truth of what really happened. Despite me staying out of my room more and more I still spent an equal amount of time there. I would deliberately sit myself down and go through that day’s events, walking myself through step by step. It wasn’t until I got to the part where I was snatched and then the flashbacks would come back intensely. But nevertheless I pushed through. I would always have a violent headache after each and every session. Literally my diet consisted of whatever I ate and children’s tylenol. It wasn’t easy and there were days where I stepped back from the progress that I made but little by little I got to piece together as much of a complete story that I could. 

      Over time the flashbacks and headaches became less and less frequent as I got older. Occasionally nowadays I would get the nightmare of that event which would always be followed by a headache in the center of my forehead the next morning. But I would just take some ibuprofen and be on my way. They don’t happen as much anymore like they used to. Over time I became less and less afraid and I became well more normal after that. Well as normal as I could get after an event like that. I was happy more often. I had my dad/best friend. I pushed boundaries, I got time outs and early bedtimes. I played with my toys and with him and I went to preschool and I ate a lot and regularly more often. I was doing fine. I was getting better.

    Then my step dad left us. I was five at the time.

    He left us for two years. Turns out he went to prison for breaking and entering an abandoned building while he was drunk looking for a place to sleep for the night. The day I found out I was hurt, confused, lonely, and pissed. I was confused because why did he leave us all of a sudden? Where was he? Was he okay? Would we be able to see him again? I was hurt because I had all of these questions running through my head. Did he not love us anymore? Did he even love us at all? Was I a bad kid and that’s why he left us? Was I too much to handle and so he said fuck it and left? Was my mom not good enough? Were we not good enough for him? Then I was pissed because how dare he leave us? Us of all people? We didn’t do anything wrong to deserve this and he had the audacity to leave us! I was also pissed at myself more than anything. My intuition was wrong about him. My intuition was rarely wrong about anything in my life. Although I couldn’t read him at first he proved himself to be different than the rest of the people my mom brought home. He stayed for a year. That’s the longest anyone has ever stayed in my life at the time. He actually stayed and didn’t run away from his responsibilities. He was the first person to take me in and raise me when my own mother and biological family wouldn’t. I thought that he was different….I was wrong obviously but I didn’t realize just how wrong I was until later on in life.

     I never felt more alone since that day. There were only two other times but nothing would compare to that day when he left. 

    This is the reason why I have severe trust issues.

    It was downhill after that. Mom lost her job and the apartment so we bounced from motel to motel. Mom was either busy sleeping or looking for jobs. I don’t blame her, it was tiring for her to be looking for jobs for 8 hours a day. So she needed the sleep. Although the rare times she was up she did spend time with me and we would watch tv together. Other times I had to take care of myself and my mom. So I kept myself entertained and my mom barely had enough money for the week to stay let alone for food more times than not. In every motel that we’ve been to there was also a convenience store. Some were nice and were understanding of my home situation so they would let me pick out two things to eat for free. One for me and one for my mom once a day. They were nice. Other store employees weren’t so nice and understanding. But my mom and I had to eat so I learned to lie and steal from them. We had to survive and eat and I was willing to do that by any means necessary. The worst part is that instead of stopping and only doing it when I needed to. I got better at it and I became more clever. I absolutely hated stealing from the store that was nice to me but desperate times called for desperate measures and I wasn’t even sorry for it.

     School wasn’t any easier for me. The only things I was good at was everything else but math and gym. I was also good at being a teacher’s pet. It was the only way I could survive at school and I really was a good kid once upon a time and that’s how I got away with mostly everything at school from kindergarten through 11th grade. 

    That’s when the bullying started for the first time. They made fun of me for being homeless and not being good at math and not being strong enough for gym class. I didn’t know exactly how to deal with it at first since I wasn’t good at social situations. At first I ignored them or shot back an even worse insult to them for k-4. 

    Eventually my mom got a job at a restaurant making sandwiches and we eventually got our own apartment again.I was seven at the time. It was decent about the size of a single wide trailer, three bedrooms and all for $725 a month. It was on the poor side of Maplehood Creek. So there was a lot of crime and drug deals but beggars can’t be choosers. We settled into a routine very quickly. Mom went to work and I went to school and business as usual. We never really saw each other often. However, it was a nice change to have some form of stability instead of stealing and lying to survive and the uncertainty of it working. 

    The best part? My step dad came back to us. However, when he did come back he….changed…..He was always the stoic, tough love type but…this was different. I get the people change over the years, especially after a few years of being away from people. But not like this. Looking back on it he came back more distant….and more cold and calculating…. But I didn’t care at the time. I was just happy and excited to have my dad/ best friend back. No more lonely days, no more fear, no more sadness, like all of the hurt, anger, confusion, loneliness, and sadness for the last two years just melted away…. I was just so desperate that I overlooked the warning signs. But anyways, I ran up to hug him as soon as he came back through the door for the first time in two years. I hugged him like my life depended on it, as if I let go he would walk out again. But he didn’t hug me back like he normally would. I just chalked it up to the fact that he probably needed time to adjust. Which was fine. That’s understandable. I figured that after he got used to us again we could go back to being a family once again. Like the good old days but perhaps this time with something better.

    BUT BOY WAS I WRONG….LIKE 180 DEGREES WRONG……I WAS SO VERY, VERY WRONG!!!

    The abuse started light…at first it was just cutting words and biting remarks….He didn’t start hitting me until I was nine. I really didn’t think anything of it. I often do things to get those comments. I fucked up a lot of things that I was supposed to do that I really shouldn’t have fucked up to begin with. It hurt what he said to me but I just thought it was his new form of discipline. I always thought the point of discipline was that it was supposed to hurt so that you don’t do the bad thing again. It wasn’t anything bad at first. Just normal stuff, he would always call me “stupid”, “worthless”, “Useless” “I’m a burden and that no one wants me” The works. I put up with it because I was desperate to get my best friend back. I thought that if I showed that I was strong enough to take whatever he threw my way then it would show how loyal and worthy I was of being back into his good graces again.

    School was beginning to become more and more difficult. Academics was fine. I was too smart for what they were teaching. I was often ahead of my classes. I wouldn’t call myself a genius, otherwise it would have been proven earlier on in my life. I was just above average in intelligence. I would always be ahead for that week in whatever lesson they would be teaching. But the bullies….the bullies got worse….It was just superficial shit. Saying how bad I am at math even though I was good at other subjects, no one wanted to be my friend because I was mean and awkward, I was too weird…. I was only mean because I could see right through them they weren’t good people. I wanted nothing to do with them. And they started with me first. I didn’t start fights, I finished them. I remember something my step dad said to me in passing later on in life. It was an off-color remark and I don’t think he intended for me to use it in the way I did but it proved useful in every fight I’ve been in verbal and physical. He said this to me “Be more afraid of someone who can ruin your life with a press of a button than of someone who can pack a punch. Physical wounds heal mental wounds don’t. Be vicious with your attacks and go for the throat. Hit where it would hurt the most”. And I still live by that. I’ve made people run away crying from my words. Don’t start with me and I won’t start with you. Plain and simple. As for my weirdness. Well, I was more reserved and quiet. I was antisocial and due to my step dad I had increased hostility and ‘behavioral issues’. But I guess I’ve also had my personal darkness following me around. Always just barely below the surface. I guess it created an unsettling aura around me that always made others uncomfortable. Oh well.

     Nine is when things turned up a notch for the first time. Lot’s of things happened. I was in 4th grade. Adam was born, I got into my first fist fight, the abuse became worse at home, and I made my first important choice that would change my life forever. 

    But one thing at a time. Let’s start with the birth of my little brother Adam.

    I was nine years old. It was October 3. 2011. Adam was born. His full name is Adam Mitchell Mulleney. I always wanted a sibling, someone I could protect and take care of and teach. Preferably a sister, but beggars can’t be choosers.  The moment I held him was the moment I knew I had to protect him. From what? I don’t know. But anyways my step dad doesn;t do babies. So he didn’t even help take care of him. Mom wasn’t the strongest mentally speaking so she wasn’t fit to take care of him. So I did, mostly. I was more of his mother than his big sister at the time. We went to a daycare so that helped me out a lot. But mainly I took care of him for the first three years of his life on top of school, and the increasing abuse from my step dad. He was saying recently back then how I was a bad influence to everyone I met and how much of a monster I was. How I was incapable of making good decisions, always. But back then I didn’t believe him. God, I miss the self confidence I used to have. Before life and reality kept giving me brutal beatings and I just gave up. But I didn’t believe him at the time because Adam proved otherwise. I mean how could I be a bad person when I was keeping Adam alive, healthy and happy? It didn’t make sense to me. I was there for the formative years. I taught him almost everything I know. At least enough for a toddler to understand. It was enough hopefully for him to have the basics of survival for when I couldn’t be with him anymore when I left for my new life. I did the best I could as a 9-12 year old pseudo mother. 

     As Adam got to be older he quickly became the family favorite. My step dad treated him like the golden child like he could do no wrong. He gave Adam the love and affection that I used to get. But yet he treated me like shit. So you can imagine the growing animosity I had towards my family and life. And unfortunately, after I was done taking care of him and my parents finally took over and did their actual jobs for once I grew to hate Adam more and more for a while until I got older and I realized a few things. But that’s later on in the story.

    Like I said before, the abuse from my step dad got worse. I remember the very first time he hit me. When I was nine I got my first chore other than cleaning my room. It was dishes. At first I was excited about it because it was like “finally I’m a big kid now!” But I wasn’t good at it for the first three days. I have sensory and vision issues so I can’t feel or see the dead food on the plates sometimes but I really did try my best. My step dad got fed up with me after the third day of me doing dishes. He got so angry at me that he broke one of the dirty dishes on the floor and then moved with the speed of a viper. He smacked me across the face so hard that you could hear the crack that came with it. My face turned so fast I swear that I almost broke my neck. The force behind was so strong that I fell into the pile of broken ceramic and I could hear ringing in my ears. He yelled at me saying I’m a useless child and that I can’t do anything right and that I’m stupid because I can’t do a simple dish right. He then stormed off and hid in his bedroom for a while. I just sat there in shock. It was a good couple of minutes before the stinging, and ringing died down and before I could turn my head. I’m pretty sure he left a red mark and I just cried silently. I was just so confused as to why he would hurt me. He’s never done so before…But I quickly justified it as I deserved it. He doesn’t do shit for no reason he always has a reason for the shit he does even if he never told me. If I hadn’t fuck up something so easy like dishes I wouldn’t have gotten smacked that day. I cleaned up the broken pieces of the plate and cleaned up myself from the cuts I got and I just went on with my day.

    There were always incidents like that. I’d fuck something up whether it’s completely wrong or not up to his god like standards, I’d get smacked. Whether it was across my face or upside the head. Or sometimes he would pin me to the ground or to the wall by my neck if I even tried to defend myself with words of course. I never once tried to fight him that would ensure my death. I was always all about survival. I only fought fights that I knew I would most likely win or if I felt strongly for that cause. 

    My mom was always at work for the most part. She would come home later in the night when Adam and I were asleep. On her days off she either slept, or she took Adam and I on errands. It was her form of quality time with us. Sometimes if the incidents took place while she was home she would ignore it, only focusing on Adam to keep him sheltering him from the fucked upness of the situation and just let my step dad and I figure it out. But yet failing to protect me. Although I understood why she would protect him more than me. Because I would do the same too. He’s younger, he has more of his entire life ahead of him. I don’t need him to be fucked up and ruin his chances of living a happy, normal life. I’ll be damned if someone were to take that away from him. Although sometimes my mom would actually do her job as a parent and step in to protect me by arguing with him. But that always fails because she gets meek and worn down from his relentless arguing. Gradually she stopped doing that as well. He never hit my mom or Adam or Michael when he came into my life later on. It was just me. I used to believe that if I left then he would take out his anger on my mom and Adams and use them as scapegoats. I thought I was protecting them so I still stayed. But I was quickly proven wrong about my belief as I realized that he just had it out for me.

   School was getting increasingly worse. On top of the abuse I recieved at home which made me more vicious and hostile and according to my teachers I had “increasing behavioral problems” the bullying was getting worse too. The kids kept telling me how useless and worthless I was. How weird I was, how nobody liked me. I didn’t mind it coming from my step dad because I was getting used to it and a scrawny nine year old can’t fight a grown man who’s twice to three times her size. I’m normally able to separate business from personal. Home was personal, school was business for me. That’s how I survived for so long, especially when I went to Rosewood Preparatory school later on in the story. I was always able to fight two battles on two different fronts. One at school and the other at home. If I was at school I shut off the war at home and focused my energy on surviving the day. If I was at home I shut off the war at school and focus my energy on surviving another night at home just to repeat the cycle all over again the next day. Keep on fighting in the meantime. 

    Anyways, school was supposed to be a break from my stepdad to me. Just enough of a reprieve to help me survive. And I wasn’t getting that with the kids repeating the things my step dad told me. I had enough.

    One day while I was in math class in the fourth grade. I had Mr. Williamson at Maplehood Creek Elementary School. I sat in front of Alan Washburn. He was one of my many bullies but he and Nikola Whilems were my main ones at Maplehood. Mr. Williamson wasn’t paying attention, he had his back turned to the smartboard teaching the rest of the class long division at the time. I was minding my own business and was actually trying to learn the lesson. Math wasn’t my strong suit and he and Nikola always picked on me because of it amongst the other things they picked on me about. Alan got the brilliant idea to pull me by the back of my ponytail so my head was bent over backwards and his face was upside down in my perspective. He told me “How does it feel to be the retard in the class?” with that cocky, annoying, arrogant smirk, and then pushed my head with enough force to make the front of my head hit my desk. I let out an audible “ow” and everyone turned to look at me including Mr. Williamson. I sat up and pretended like nothing happened. Everyone went back to what they were doing. I heard Alan and Nikola snicker and that;s when I lost it and that’s how I got into my first fist fight. I turned around in my desk to face Alan, balled my hand into a fist and I just decked him square in the face as hard as I could and I broke his nose. It hurt like hell for the both of us but seeing the look of fear on his face after I punched him was so satisfying to me. Then I leaped over my desk and tackled him to the ground. Back then I didn’t know how to fight as well as I do now. I only knew the basics from my step dad and it was the first fight I ever got into. I just sat on his chest and bitch slapped him until his face was red and started crying like the little bitch that he was. I screamed at him to “say that you’re sorry and say it like you mean it!”. The other kids surrounded us. Some looked at us in awe, some looked at us in shock and some looked at us in fear. Mr. Williamson had to pull me off of him. I was breathing heavily, ears burning and rash like from anger and Alan scurried into a corner of the classroom whimpering and in a protective position. I made direct eye contact with Nikola and he looked so pale and afraid of me. In all honesty I felt relieved and accomplished. It was nice to distribute retribution and to finally have power over them. On that day I asked myself why didn’t I do that sooner?

    Unfortunately Maplehood Creek Elementary School has a zero tolerance for violence, so I was sent to the principal’s office for the day. The punishment for a violent physical fight was expulsion. Yeah, they were really strict about that. My mom didn’t come to get me until school was out for the day at 3:30pm since that’s when she got out of work that day. My mom  and my principal Mrs. McCaulen had a conversation about what would be the most efficient course of action for me. I was getting expelled, there was no getting out of that. But expulsion was for a year at Maplehood  and then I could try again. Neither one of them wanted me to be behind in my school work and since I was too smart of the school work anyways for the most part they felt bad and didn’t want to waste any of my potential intelligence. So, They gave me two choices. One, I could do homeschooling for the rest of the school year and then come back next school year. Or, Mrs. McCaulen said that she knew some higher ups at a place called Rosewood Preparatory School and could pull some strings to get me in after Christmas break since it was December at the time. I would switch schools after Christmas break and I would finish schooling there. She explained to me that Rosewood was a prestigious private school in the downtown area where the rich people lived. It was a k-12 school. It was a place where the rich, problematic and intelligent people got better and got a good education. You have to wear a uniform and meet certain qualifications to get in. But since I was highly intelligent and definitely had enough issues to spare. Mrs. McCaulen was certain that I could get in. She also added that after I graduated I could get into just about any esteemed college since Rosewood was a prestigious school itself. That sounded promising to me since I already knew that I didn’t want to be in Maplehood all my life and be stuck with my family forever. Once upon a time I actually had high hope and a bright outlook on my future. I didn’t want to do homeschooling because the only one that was home all the time was my step dad since he was a stay at home dad. Mom worked almost all the time to provide everything for the house and us. My step dad is a good teacher when he’s not being an abusive, manipulative, arrogant prick. However, If I chose homeschooling I knew that my step dad wouldn’t let me go back the next school year and keep me locked up in the apartment forever or until he dies. Not only that but once again school was the only break I ever got from him. It’s how I survived for so long. I was not going to have that be taken away from me. So in the end I chose Rosewood, not knowing what I’d get myself into. They discussed the option of a dormitory since Rosewood also had a boarding section. Mom decided that it would be easy if I just came home at the end of the day. Which I was thankful for later on.

   Of course my mom told my step dad about what happened. I was expecting him to beat the shit out of me and to yell at me. But instead he asked me for my side of the story. Which was out of character for him but nevertheless I was happy to give my side of the story in hopes that maybe I would get punished less. I told him how Alan (and he knew about my bullies) how he grabbed my hair and called me a retard and smacked my head on my desk. So I retaliated and I punched him the face and then I jumped over my desk and I sat on top of him and I bitch slapped him and screamed at him to apologize. I used the excuse that it was self defense and also used the philosophy that he taught me. If you do something bad then expect the worst possible outcome. Which I delivered. He then asked me if I won the fight. To which I said that I thought so since I gave him a bloody nose and made him cry like the little bitch he was. My step dad nodded thoughtfully and stayed silent for a few minutes. I braced myself for whatever backlash I was about to receive. He then patted my head and told me he was proud of me. Now THAT was something I hadn’t heard in a long time. It felt good. I then told him that they expelled me and I had a choice between homeschooling and a place called Rosewood Preparatory School. I chose Rosewood. And that’s when he went back to his asshole self. He told me that Rosewood was a place to stuff severely mentally disturbed children that their parents wanted nothing to do with anymore. I’m talking about mentally disturbed kids that need to to be in an insane asylum and actually get professional help.that they so desperately needed. He told me that I wouldn’t survive there. I didn’t believe him at the time because I thought that he was fear mongering me like he normally does when he tries to get control over me. I thought he was trying to scare me into homeschooling so he could gain more control over me. So, using the other philosophy he taught me. I made my choice and I will stick by it through the bitter fucking consequences. I will go down with the ship. I still stuck to my guns and I was adamant about going to Rosewood. Anything to get away from him. 

       It was January 7th. It was after Christmas break and time to go back to school. For me it was my very first day at this Rosewood Prep. I wore my new school uniform which was a white long sleeve shirt and tan khakis with a black belt. I had a choice between the standard red and black plaid skirt and tan and black khakis for the girl’s uniforms. I didn’t and still don’t like girly things, there’s just so many prying prepubescent lemur boys out there you know? So I chose pants all the way. The one good thing about Rosewood is that they are more lenient about their school uniforms than most private preparatory schools. We could wear whatever hoodie/ sweatshirt we wanted over our uniform as long as we could prove that we had the standard white tee/ long sleeve shirt, red and black plaid skirt, tan or black khakis on. We could wear whatever socks and shoes that we wanted. It was nice to have some sort of independence and individualism in that place. I ended up walking to school since we lived closer to the downtown area than to Maplehood Creek Elementary School. So I didn’t meet the requirements for the school bus system. Nevertheless I was so ready for what little independence that I would get.Rosewood Prep is a big school. It was right across from The real estate office building called Camelson’s Realtors. Rosewood had a black wrought iron gate with an archway that stated the School’s name in cursive. Rosewood had a lot of property and it was covered in snow. Not even half of it was trampled on yet. The kids were spread out in various places. We had the younger kids k-3 playing in the snow together closer to the entrance, 4th and 5th graders were huddling together for warmth near the school doorways, 6-8 were all gossiping with each other on the left lawn and 9-12 graders were behind the school doing god knows what. The school itself was made out of bricks and was part of it was covered in ivy. It looked like one of those uppity schools that you read in books and see on tv where those schools are mysterious and hold deep, dark, sinister secrets.The main building was 7 stories high. One floor for the lobby, principal’s office, tech support, cafeteria, kitchen and gym was. That was the first floor when you got into the school. Basement level is underneath the entire school but you could only get to it through secret passageways throughout the school and on school property. Second floor was for the kindergartners with their own art and music rooms. Third floor was for the first grade, fourth floor was for second grade, fifth floor was for third grade, sixth floor was for fourth grade, and the seventh floor was for the fifth grade. The second building attached to the main one on the right had three stories. First floor was for sixth grade, the second floor was for seventh grade and the third floor was for eighth grade. There was a third building attached to the main one on the left that had four floors. First floor was for ninth grade, second floor was for tenth grade, third floor was for eleventh grade, and the fourth floor was for the twelfth grade. There was a building in the back that was like fifty feet from the school that I assumed was the boarding section. They also had three playgrounds in the back. They also had a sports shed with a neon orange roof over on the far right of the school. There were also a lot of spirits roaming about the school property, some staff members others were children as young as five- eighteen. 

   The school also had a brick interior and red and white tiles on the floor. My school day started like any other day. I had  breakfast, and I went to my main teacher’s room for the majority of my classes. Her name was Mrs. Lameire. Out of all my time at Rosewood She was the nicest teacher I ever had. The majority of teachers there were cruel and ruthless. Rich kids were always the favorites. Anyone with grades lower than a C, people that were too mentally disturbed to the point of causing disruptions in the class, people that were late to class for even a minute, and just because were met with cruel and unusual punishments. Kids were locked in the rundown gym bathrooms during their hallucinations. I remember hearing about this one girl in the boarding section getting locked in the sports shed in the damp cold being starved and forced to lick up the water that was given to her on the ground. All because the staff wasn’t feeding one of her friends so she stole some food before it was made in the kitchen to give to her. Thankfully her friend got to eat before she got caught. Turns out Mrs. Lameire was a rare one. Towards the end of fourth grade she actually got out of Rosewood and got a new teaching job at Greengrove High for the seniors in English. That’s not something a lot of teachers and unfortunately a lot of students could say. A decent handful of teachers were former students at Rosewood, K-12 and lived in the boarding section all their school life only to finally leave for college and get out of that wretched place only to come back and be stuck at Rosewood once more. Unfortunately a lot of the students would share the same fate. I feel bad for the younger kids who live at the school too. It’s all they’re going to know. We have this saying in Maplehood for the people of Rosewood with a darker meaning. “You may leave Rosewood but Rosewood will never leave you. After all, all paths will eventually lead back to Rosewood”…..

      It didn’t get interesting until after lunch. Just on my first day I witnessed seven fist fights, this was all at Lunch. At my old school a lot of kids would have gotten expelled that day. What I found strange was that these weren’t just school fights….these were…almost fights to the death. These were brutal. I saw one kid almost die because he got beaten into a bloody pulp. Luckily he turned tail and fled to the nurses office. I also found it weird that there were no teachers to pull the fighting kids apart. They either turned the other cheek, cheered them on or made bets on who would win under the table. It really was survival of the fittest here. The last fight of the day was heading towards me. I felt my arm being pulled out of the way and I was out of the direction of the fight. I looked next to me. There was a strange boy with short black hair and a darker tan complexion than me and brown eyes.

    “Thank you”, I said.

    “No problem”, said the strange boy who pulled me away.

    We stayed silent for what seemed like forever before the strange boy spoke again.

    “My name is Horacio Galloway”, said the strange boy finally introducing himself

    “Tabby Anderson”, I said slowly, suspicious of this kid.

    “I’ve never seen you before, you’re new here?”

   “This kid is trying to size me up. To see what he could get away with”, I said in thought before I actually spoke. “Yeah I am”

    He nodded thoughtfully for a minute before speaking, “You know you could use someone to show you the ropes here of how things work around here. You could use a friend”.

    I just looked at him and stared into his eyes for a long time. Although I was thankful for what he did and he was right I could use a friend. Two is always better than one. But….not him. He just made me uncomfortable. He just didn’t feel like a good person. He had this dark, cold, evil aura around him. I saw major red flags with this kid. I didn’t want any part of that. If I wanted a friend I would want one to be a real and loyal friend. Someone who is trustworthy and a good person in the bigger picture. He wasn’t it.

    This time my intuition was right.

    “No”, I said.

    He looked at me like he couldn’t believe what I said. He wasn’t used to someone telling him no. “I’m sorry…did you just say no?…”  he got menacing closer to me trying to corner me.

   “So he’s controlling and manipulative. Just as I suspected”, I said in thought as I was being backed up into the corner of a wall in the cafeteria.

   “Yeah that’s right. I said no”, I still stood my ground.

   “Are you sure you want to go down this road?”, he asked threateningly as he cornered me.

   I do one of two things when I’m scared I either lie my ass off or I attack and I’m hitting. I chose the second option. Obviously this kid isn’t capable of listening to reason. So maybe he’ll get it through a punch in the face to get him to back off. I dealt with this from my step dad, there’s absolutely no way I was going to put up with that bullshit from anyone else.

    “Yeah I’m sure” I  said and I decked him square in the face.

    He staggered back a little and he looked genuinely shocked that someone would dare to hit him. Apparently he wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him and not falling for his bullshit. He was angry and he charged at me full force to attack me back. I moved out of the way so her ran smack into the wall knocking himself backwards.Other kids laughed and ooohhhed at us. He didn’t like to be humiliated. Other kids ignored us and minded their own business. Some of the teachers smirked at us and looked on with amusement, waiting to see what would happen next. Other teachers just ignored us. Either way no one stepped in. He got back up and was really in a blind rage now. He tried to attack me once more. I remember what my step dad told me when getting into a fight. Use my opponent’s momentum to my advantage since i’m so small. Use every body part you can in a fight. Never let up. If you get knocked down, get back up as fast as you can. Use all of your body weight to pin someone down in a fight. Horatio charged at me and I turned to move out of the way and I grabbed his arm. I put my right leg behind his and pivoted so I could push him into the wall face first. I made him hit his head hard. I twisted his arm behind his back, kept my leg behind his and I used my entire body weight to keep him pinned against the wall.

    “Look, get this and get this now. I am not afraid of you. You can not manipulate me or control me. I’m not the one who can be broken or controlled. Understand?”

    After a few moments I let him go. He dropped to the floor and I backed away breathing heavily. It took all of my strength to do that. He got back up and he glared at me as he walked away. That was the first time I actually stood up for myself against someone who is just like my step dad. I may not have made him bleed and cry but at least I got him to turn tail and run away like the little bitch he is. For the first time in forever I actually felt surprisingly good about myself. I spent the rest of my day in a good mood.

    Until it became the end of the school day.

    I survived my first day at Rosewood.  I was getting my stuff and preparing to walk home. Until I caught sight of a ghost out of the corner of my eyes. It was a milky white mist. It was a little boy who looked deathly scared. He couldn’t have been no more than six. He had short blonde hair and glasses and was wearing the standard Rosewood uniform. A white long sleeved shirt, a black belt and tan khakis. He also looked like he was lost and confused….like he knew he was dead but he didn’t know what to do next. He made eye contact with me but you could tell that he wasn’t….all there…even before he died. The little ghost boy made eye contact with me. He then walked through the janitor’s closet that was like 10ft down the hall and disappeared. I tried to walk away but something inside of me told me to follow him. I’m not the one to ignore intuition but I knew that I wouldn’t like what I would see. I looked to make sure no one was looking and I followed.

   I went into the janitor’s closet and tried to quietly make my way through the cluttered mess of cleaning supplies. It was a quiet hallway so any unnecessary noise would have drawn attention to myself. I made my way to the back of the closet and there was a little doorway in the wall. It was slightly ajar, suggesting that it’s been used recently. I cautiously opened it up not really sure what to expect. The doorway led to a secret passageway that seemed to spiral down towards the basement level area. I head down the passageway with my bag in tote.

   I reached one of the entrances of the basement and nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. I stood frozen as my freeze response took over. I saw Horatio just standing there with a kid slumped over. The kid couldn’t be no more than six and strangely enough the kid looked like the little ghost boy that I saw not that long ago. Horatio made eye contact with me and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t fight him because I didn’t think there was anything worth fighting about since the damage has been done and fighting wouldn’t bring him back and I saw no reason to go along with the situation since there was nothing to go along with, so I did the only sensible thing I could do. I ran for it. I ran straight out of there.

   I kept running and I stopped and sat down outside Rosewood’s gates and I broke down. This is what Rosewood was. I just had my first taste of Rosewood. There was violence and torture everywhere. So many mentally unhinged kids that don’t belong in that setting. Adults who enabled or ignored everything that went on instead of doing their jobs as responsible adults to protect us. This sinister place really was the top of the top survival of the fittest. If I were to stay that means that I would have to fight two wars on two different fronts. I mean, I’ve been doing that anyways but Maplehood Creek Elementary school is VERY different from Rosewood Prep. Compared to Rosewood, Maplehood Creek Elementary was a fucking daycare center. My step dad was right…there was no way that I would survive Rosewood for long….there was no way that I could survive both Rosewood AND home….so I made my decision.

   I kept running and I stopped and sat down outside Rosewood’s gates and I broke down. This is what Rosewood was. I just had my first taste of Rosewood. There was violence and torture everywhere. So many mentally unhinged kids that don’t belong in that setting. Adults who enabled or ignored everything that went on instead of doing their jobs as responsible adults to protect us. This sinister place really was the top of the top survival of the fittest. If I were to stay that means that I would have to fight two wars on two different fronts. I mean, I’ve been doing that anyways but Maplehood Creek Elementary school is VERY different from Rosewood Prep. Compared to Rosewood, Maplehood Creek Elementary was a fucking daycare center. My step dad was right…there was no way that I would survive Rosewood for long….there was no way that I could survive both Rosewood AND home….so I made my decision.

   “Hey, are you okay?”, I heard a strange voice say that sounded like whomever it was was getting closer to me.

   I looked up with my red, tear stained face to see a strange, tall, lanky, ginger girl that would become my best friend, walking towards me. She was the prettiest person that I have ever seen. She had long beautiful auburn red, pale skin that had freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and she had stormy gray eyes which I later discovered that they fluctuate between stormy gray and emerald green. I coward in my spot in a defensive, protective position because I didn’t know what she would do to me. She was also in her Rosewood uniform. She was wearing a the white tee shirt and red and black plaid skirt with her red and white converse. What was she doing here after school? She sat down next to me.

   “ Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Autumn Lemmory.  I promise I’m not like the other students here at Rosewood. I saw you sitting here and crying so I wanted to see if you were okay”, she tilted her head to the right and she had a kind and concerned voice.

  Warily I uncurled myself and was sitting like a normal person. She was so nice, like she genuinely cared. That was something I haven’t seen or had in a long time.

  “ T-Tabby Anderson and n-no I’m not o-okay”, I said between sniffles and hiccups as that’s what happens when I cry for a long time.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”, the ginger girl asked softly.

   I just looked at her and I turned into a blubbering crying mess again. I wasn’t used to this level of concern and kindness. I told her about how I was new here and that it was my first day at Rosewood. I told her about what I saw what happened to the mentally ill kids who acted out in class, the fights I saw, how I met this boy Horatio Galloway and how he threaten me when I stood up to him, I beat him in a fight, and how I just saw Horatio tourture some poor six year old boy.

   She stayed silent and listened. She held me and petted my hair for comfort. She just nodded her head and she didn’t judge me like I thought she would. In fact she didn’t even look surprised as if it was an everyday occurrence. To which I cried even more because I haven’t had this much kindness, level of concern, comfort, and affection in a long time.

   “I’m sorry you had to see that on your first day, It can be a lot for someone who isn’t used to it. But you get desensitized quick the longer you stay here. That type of stuff happens extremely often here unfortunately. There’s always someone dying here at Rosewood whether its a teacher or student”, said Autumn sadly.

   As much as I was enjoying the affection I had to pull away before I made it more awkward for the both of us.

  “You said all of that like you’ve been here for a long time. How long have you been here?”, I asked

  “A year now. I came here in the third grade”, she sighed exasperated.

  “You know and hate Horatio too?”, I asked.

  “Everyone who goes to Rosewood knows who he is. He is the richest, problematic, evil, and popular kid in school. He’s scarily smart too. Everyone hates him but they’re too scared to say or do anything about it since he can easily ruin their lives outside of Rosewood or make their lives a living hell. I’m honestly surprised that you met him on your first day. He must have taken an interest in you and you had the guts to stand up to him, fight him, and actually won”, Autumn said amazed.

  “Yeah I did. In case you haven’t noticed I’m not like other people”, I said

   Autumn laughed and it was a beautiful sound like all of my pain and troubles melted away immediately for a short time.

     “I can see that”

     She then took a good look at me, and stood up.

    “I can tell that you’re a good person and you look like you can use a friend. In fact your chances of survival would greatly increase if you had one or two people in your corner at all times. Especially if you’re dealing with Horatio and since you actually won against Horatio for now he’s especially going to have it out for you all the time. But don’t worry, he really is a coward and won’t bother you too often if you’re with a group of people. So I want you to promise me something”.

    “Hm?”

   “Promise me that you’ll come back here tomorrow and find me. I have a few people that I’d like you to meet. I’d think you’d like them and they would like you. Now come on it’s not good to be here for longer than necessary. I’ll walk you home”, she said as she gave me the exact same sweetest, kindest smile that she gave me earlier and she held out her hand as an offer to help me up.

   I gave her a good long look. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t plan on even being alive come tomorrow. However, she showed me kindness, compassion, and understanding. That’s something I haven’t had in a long time. She was the only one at first to stand by me and not against me. She actually wanted to be my friend willingly. She wanted to help and that damn smile though. It was that smile that gave me hope and suddenly I didn’t want to die as much anymore.

   “I will. I promise”, I said as I gave a small smile and I took her hand and we walked home together and for the first time in forever I had hope and something to look forward to tomorrow.

  And I always keep my promises.

  The next day I met the first people that would become the only form of a family that I have. There were four other people. Heath Yazheimer, Mitchel Brooks, Donnie SanMaria, and Rebecca Bea. Mitchel and Rebecca were the rich kids and Heath, Donnie, Autumn and I were the poor kids. I was the youngest in the group at first but I quickly became the ring leader. I mean someone had to keep their dumbasses in line. Then I became the second youngest as my family grew and by seventh grade I had my entire family. They really were the best of me.

    After a year of Rosewood my parents got tired of my telling them about the awful shit that kept happening. They didn’t believe me and they said that I was lying and being paranoid. Of course I got punished by my step dad for telling the truth. My mom however was concerned about how often they deemed that I was making this shit up. So my mom scrambled to get enough money and pay for my first psychiatrist that I had. I was ten.

  His name was Dr. Kutz. He worked at a place downtown that was red and beige called Where the Wind Blows. There were two psychiatrists that worked there. Him and a woman called Dr. Gina. Dr. Kutz worked upstairs and Dr. Gina worked downstairs.

  But anyways back to Dr. Kutz. I can honestly say that he was one of the few therapists that I actually liked. I hate therapists and Doctors in general because they can’t do their damn jobs right and do diagnoses correctly. It took seven years to get the diagnoses I have now. But anyways. He was kind, taught me how to play chess and he got the diagnoses right the first time. I was diagnosed with anxiety and paranoia which was understandable considering the shit that went on at home and Rosewood. He put me on medication for my anxiety and paranoia but I gradually stopped taking them because they made me too mellow and my mind was always fuzzy. That’s not good for surviving Rosewood where you have to be constantly alert and ready to fight at any time. I told him everything that happened at Rosewood and I can tell that he didn’t believe me and he was just listening to humor me. Still it was nice to have someone who actually listens to you for once. I told him what went on at home but I told him not to do anything about the abuse because that would affect Adam in the long run and he’s already a bright and good boy. Even at one. Everyone needs a dad. Mom wouldn’t be able to take care of him with how much she works so that would leave me to take care of him. I could barely take care of myself as it was and I was so unfit to be a mother. Although Dr. Kutz didn’t like my decision, he respected it.

   The reason why I stopped seeing him was because my mom and step dad deemed that I wasn’t getting anywhere on my so-called “issues” that my mom and step dad deemed that I had. So we moved on to therapist number two, Dr. Gina. I was eleven.

  We still went to the same place where Dr. Kutz was only staying downstairs. I didn’t like her at all. She just seemed too fake to me. She didn’t care about what I had to say and she just wanted a paycheck. She also did countless misdiagnoses. ADD, ADHD, ODD, which I didn’t have either. I have been on and off so many medications for these misdiagnoses that I didn’t need. I even developed a twitch in my left eye because of the medications that I didn’t need. It only flares up when my anxiety is sky high.

  The only “good” thing she did was call the CPS when she found out that I was getting abused by my step dad after she grilled me on it and I fucking cracked under preassure and after I begged her not to. She said that she was a mandatory reporter and that she had to.

   That didn’t go over too well for me. Unfortunately they found no substantial evidence. My step dad used the fact that I did get into a lot of fights at school which was true. I always came home with more bruises and scars and I went in with more. Eventually they dropped the case and left. He was still there. I felt bad because it was Adam’s first birthday too. So I caught hell for that and for the fact that I tried to rat him out. So not only did I get a whole lot of beatings but also sleep deprivation and corporal punishment. Those two got added on as extra punishment that year and that became a standard punishment. Lack of sleep and a brutal exercise regime with very little to no water breaks and I wasn’t even fed for that week. So yeah.

   Another incident like that happened while I was changing for gym class at Rosewood. Where the gym teacher saw a big ass bruise on the side of my rib cage and she called CPS again. And I got the SAME punishment.

  However, everything evened out eventually. I got a handle on life at Rosewood. I got good at switching on and off battles. I was established as a straight A student and I was gradually becoming a good fighter. I had my friends to help me through and we protected each other and took on shit for each other. Autumn and I had this spot at Rosewood. It was in the beginning of the woods. It was a small clearing that was well hidden so no one else at Rosewood bothered us and it wasn’t too deep in the woods where we could get lost either. It was perfect and if anything were to happen the boarding section was fifty feet from us since our spot was behind the boarding section. So we could have easily run there. We would stay after school for like 20 minutes or a couple of hours. Whatever I could swing for the day. She would patch up my scars and bruises after school when I got into a fight or after I got a beating from my step dad the next day. After that we would just talk and hang out. It was our way of taking a breather. I could really be myself around her. She basically became my human diary. We were close.

  We also had 4 others join our family too in those 3 years. Emmy Leonard, Emma Quelle, Ghavin Ramirez, and Laura Plummon. My friends made my life more bearable. They and Adam were my main motivation for living. I thought everything would become more manageable.

  Little did I know how fucked up everything would become.

   I just turned twelve. It was two months after I turned twelve. It was August 22 to be exact. I was getting ready to head into seventh grade. It was one of the hottest days of summer yet. I-I don’t remember exactly what I did to piss off my step dad so bad. I do remember however, going three days of no sleep when my insomnia wore off after two weeks and the brutal corporeal regiment that he had me on. I guess on the third day he finally took some form of pity on me and he had me do jumping jacks. That doesn’t sound bad right?

  Well since they were the easiest things out there to do he commanded me to do more and go faster. We had this downstairs neighbor. She wasn’t a good person. She was loud, obnoxious, and sold drugs. We lived in that type of neighborhood and refused to take care of the two kids she had. A boy and a girl no more than 6 and 9. We lived in an old apartment so the floors and walls were pretty thin. The woman yelled at us through the floor. “Hey could you keep it down? You’re being too loud!”.

  That was my step dad’s breaking point. He was already pissed with me as it is and the neighbor made it worse. He snapped his head up and I saw something snap inside of him. I was used to his anger but this was….different. it was this cold, unrestrained, unrelenting, calculating, suffocating, darker anger. And suddenly on that hot summer day the room was freezing cold. I never felt more scared in my life.

   My step dad ran into the kitchen. I followed him frantically repeating the question of what are you doing? He grabbed a regular kitchen knife from the knife holder we had. He told me to wait here and to stay put.

   I was afraid at this stage when I was 12. Not knowing what he’d do to me in that state if i dared disobeyed and I wasn’t going to test that. I did as I was told. It was deathly quiet. 5 minutes has passed, 10, 20, 30, 45, an hour, two hours has passed at this point and I began to feel nervous because if he did kill her it shouldn’t take 2 full hours to do so. Where was he? What if something happened to him? What if he’s the one who got killed? How would I explain that to the police? My mother? My little brother? I couldn’t. So against what I was told and my Intuition I went downstairs to where the first apartment was. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Honestly I should have just stayed where I was.

  I stood in the doorway as the freeze instinct took over. I wasn’t exactly sure whether or not I should have ran, fought him or gone along with the situation. I remember feeling too much in shock to feel anything at the time. I saw the dead corpse all bloodied and mutilated and beginning to rot with how hot it was. I knew death happened to everybody and I was quite familiar with it at Rosewood. There was always someone dying there every week. But it’s a whole other thing when you see death first hand for the first time.

  My step dad was just standing there staring at the body as if he can’t believe what he had done. He and his knife were covered in blood. He eventually noticed me standing at the doorway and ordered me to help clean up the evidence. I couldn’t run otherwise I would have died that day too. I couldn’t fight him in that state, I wasn’t strong or smart enough to. So I went along with the situation and helped clean up the best I could.

  Later on that night when my mom and little brother got home and went to sleep. My step dad and I went back downstairs and put the dead body in my mother’s trunk and my step dad drove us off to Fairfield Park. All the way back by the willow tree where the dirt was fresh and no one would see us. He ordered me to dig the grave for the woman while he supervised. I dug and dug. I came out of shock slightly but that’s because my anxiety and paranoia were sky high about being caught and I could’ve sworn that I felt something watching me from the woods surrounding Fairfield. But my step dad just told me to ignore it, say it was just my paranoia, and reassuring me that we wouldn’t get caught. I believed him at the time.

  The reason why I went with the situation and everything that he’s put me through over the years was because I thought that if I showed that I was loyal and still stuck by him then it would show that I was worthy of being his friend again and he would stop. That year I just wanted everything to stop. Horatio, Rosewood, the abuse I recieved from my step dad, everything. But nothing ever stopped. I knew that there was no going back to any form of normal after what we did but I thought that this would prove my loyalty to him once and for all and he would just stop. I was wrong.

   The next two days after the incident I finally came to with the full realization of what I did. I took the two kid’s mother away from them. Sure they were spoiled brats and just rotten kids in general but that was still their mother. They had every right to a mother and me and my step dad took that away from them in the most brutal way possible. That wasn’t fair to the kids. I began to cry and my step dad called me a pathetic bitch and that I shouldn’t feel sorry because I made the Choice to help him. Which makes me just as much of a murderer as he is. I’m just as guilty. He also threatened to kill me, my mom, my little brother Adam, and all of my friends if I ever dared told anyone about what we did. And he would find out. After witnessing what he did that night I wasn’t going to take that bluff. So I suffered in silence and haven’t told a soul about what I did to this day.

  Twelve was the worst year ever for me. I’m not saying that to be cliche and over dramatic. Seventh grade was a real dark time for me and I have legitimate reasons for that. I still had that murder event fresh in my head so I was a little more broken after that. I became more of a broken quiet after that. I was so happy to see my friends again. At least I had them and they were still alive. At least I had a home, love, kindness, acceptance, and understanding with them. My therapist, Michelle didn’t even know about that event and she wasn’t going to. If I told her she would tell and send Adam and I into foster care and be separated. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Even if that meant that I had to suffer.

   But, I couldn’t tell them what happened to me that summer. I wasn’t going to put them in harm’s way because I desperately needed someone to talk to about what happened. They didn’t deserve the wrath of my step dad. No one else should have to suffer what I suffered. I didn’t want to get them killed because of my selfishness. That wouldn’t be fair to them after all they’ve done for me. Not only that but what if I did tell them? Then what? Would they deem me as a monster and a bad person like my step dad did? Would they still want anything to do with me? What if they left me and abandoned me? What would their reactions be? Would they be afraid of me? What if they no longer loved and accepted me for who I was? I couldn’t risk the one good thing I had going for me. I couldn’t have my family taken away for me. I could not be alone again. Everyone knew something was wrong with me and tried talking to me about it. There was no way I could tell them. I never even told Autumn about it and she was my best friend/ older sister. She was my other half. My human diary. We told each other just about everything and anything. That’s saying a lot. Nevertheless I still stayed silent about it.

  I guess I pushed them away for a while because we grew a little distant from each other after that. We all had something that we weren’t telling each other. One by one they all left. I had no idea what happened to them at first. I later found out that they went to various mental hospitals around Maplehood and in a couple of towns over. I didn’t know at the time. I thought they all left me for no reason, or worse Horatio got to them and killed them or they died by other means! So I was left to battle Rosewood and Horatio myself.

  Home wasn’t any better either. My mom and step dad were arguing and yelling constantly. Yet despite that he never once raised a finger to her. It was just me that he hit. The arguments were always all about me about what to do with me. You can imagine the amount of added stress I was under. What if they argued so much that they broke up and he would leave? Then that means I would be responsible for taking care of Adam. I’m not a good influence and I’m an awful person. I’m not fit to be a mother and I don’t want to be the one responsible for his downfall if he goes down that way. Adam was beginning to act out too and he was getting into trouble at daycare and at home. It seemed as though I was losing control of every aspect of my life.

  So with constant battles at school and at home and no friends/family. I became vindictive, hateful, and reckless. I let my grades slip because I didn’t care at the time. Life was meaningless to be and I honestly thought that I would not survive that year with how reckless I was. Which resulted in some cruel and unusual punishments from the teachers. Mainly I was just locked up in isolation. Not so bad. I knew other kids who had it worse than I did. I also got into a lot of fights that year too. But that was because I went against my own rules about fights. I never start fights, I only finish them. Except that year I went out of my way to start and get into fights and I won most of them. I was brutal and violent. Instead of following Rosewood’s weird fight code about only fighting until one or both opponents are knocked out I would fight until they were knocked out and then just continue to pound into them until they were almost a bloody pulp. I could never bring myself to kill them. I just didn’t have it in me to do so. Even Horatio, who would go out of his way to start shit with me, only started shit twice and then he knew better and stayed the fuck away from me that year. I even learned how to knife fight that year.

  I remember my most reckless night. It was the one that finally made me snap out of it. It was April. My mom was out of town, she was with my uncle Max in Indiana to try to help him get custody of his kid because his ex wife is a money hungry and power hungry hoe. He wanted me to go over to his house every night and check up on his cats. That was my job, he gave me the keys and everything. So it was just my step dad, Adam and I. It was one of those nights where he forced me to stay up late. After a long and violent argument I told him exactly how I felt.

  “YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE AMOUNT OF PAIN AND FEAR THAT I LIVE UNDER ON TOP OF ROSEWOOD. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO FIGHT TO SURVIVE AND WAITING EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY HOPING THAT YOU’D DIE!!!”, I yelled not caring who heard or what he’d do next.

  He just looked at me in a mixture of shock and amusement. I just gave him the most pissed off and hateful look up to date, breathing heavily.

 “Is that what you want now is it?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow and had his hands on his hips.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I made direct eye contact with him and stood in a position that said I was standing my ground.

  He nodded and quietly made his way over to where we keep our knives. Mom bought new knives not that long ago so they were still relatively sharp. He took a regular sized kitchen knife and put it into my hand. He went back to where he was standing. I looked at the knife and then back at him.

  “Take your shot”, he stated simply as he held out his arms.

  I just stared at him like he was crazy and in fear. There was no way he was serious. He was testing me. There was no way I could carry out his murder. How would I explain it to the cops? How would I explain it to my mom? How would I explain it to Adam? That I took away his father because I was selfish enough to do so. He would hate me forever. I didn’t want that. I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I did carry out his murder.

  Still what if? I mean he was wide open. Fair game. Would I let this opportunity pass me by? It would be sweet revenge for me with all the shit he did to me. A few good stabs in the right vital places and half of my problems would be gone. I could finally start healing a little.

  I turned the knife into the right position as I would with a fight and I took two steps forward. That was the end of that for me. I never saw him move so quick. The next thing I knew the knife was out of my hands and I was on the floor with him on top of me banging my head on the floor and choking me. Along with a few blows to my body.

  “YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH!!! DID YOU HONESTLY THINK YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH KILLING ME?! ME?! IF YOU TRY ANYTHING LIKE THAT AGAIN!!! I WILL KILL YOU AND I’LL MAKE SURE THAT THEY’LL NEVER FIND YOUR BODY!!!”, he screamed at me.

  He then let me go and I coughed as I tried to catch my breath and rolled over to my side and sat up. I was in a bit of a daze from the blows to the head. He then dropped Uncle Max’s keys into my lap.

  “Hurry up and get over to his house to check up on the cats. After that you can go to bed as soon as you get home. You have school in the morning and I don’t want to deal with your ass anymore tonight”.

  I whimpered in response as my whole body hurt and screamed at me to stop moving. I got up and staggered towards the door, closing it behind me.

  Uncle Max lived North of Maplehood Creek where the upper middle class generally resigned. It was an hour walk to his house and as you kept walking the road became more isolated, wide and winding and houses became less and less frequent. There were woods surrounding either side of the road. He lived on Applewood Drive because there was an apple orchard near his house. So picture this, it’s about two in the morning. You see a beaten, bloody, bruised, and scrawny twelve year old girl staggering around by herself with nothing to arm herself with. To me that just screams for trouble. So, potentially I could have been murdered, no one would be able to hear my screams and my body would probably be never found. Sounds fun right?

  I don’t know why, of all nights a piece of information that I’ve long forgotten about came back to me. I once heard long ago back in fifth grade from a couple of seniors. There were short cuts all over in the woods that helped you get from one town to another without walking for so long and what a coincidence one of the shortcuts started where I was and it would lead me close to Uncle Max’s house. All I had to do was head into the woods on my left side and pay attention to the beaten path I would be on since it was dark out. I really thought about it. It would almost be suicide going into the woods, by myself, at night, close to two in the morning, un armed and I wasn’t in the best physical condition to fight in case something were to happen. That’s how you die in the horror movies, it was common sense. However, all I really wanted was some form of sleep and at that point in my life my sense of nihilism was so great I honestly did not care if I died or not. So, I did the most reckless thing I could do. I abandoned all fuking common sense and I ran into the woods.

  I don’t know what came over me…I guess it was just a mixture of everything. Hiding my first body, losing my friends, Horatio being relentless and ruthless, my parents arguing, the abuse getting worse, seeing my entire life that I knew falling apart right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it. My hatred, anger, lack of coping, confusion, lost, sadness, fear, and hurt were all too much to bear. I just broke down and started sobbing grossly and uncontrollably and I started running. I guess I was making an attempt to run away from my problems. I was just so pissed off and overwhelmed I just started punching every tree I could that was in my path.

  “I LOST EVERYTHING!!! I HAVE NOTHING LEFT!!!”

  “THE ONLY FORM OF A FAMILY I HAD!!! THEY ALL LEFT”

  “MY HOME LIFE FUCKING SUCKS IM TIRED OF LIVING WITH THE FEAR AND ABUSE AND THE CHAOS!!! I JUST WANT EVERYTHING TO STOP!!!”

  “I. HATE. ROSEWOOD. I’M TIRED OF FIGHTING TO SURVIVE I JUST WANT OUT”

  “I JUST WANT TO FUCKING DIE OR HAVE A RESET, REDUE, SECOND CHANCE PLEASE!”

  “SOMEONE TAKE ME AWAY! OR GIVE ME A SIGN…ANYTHING?! COME OUT AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN COWARDS!”

  “….help”

  I said finally as I slid down a tree with my bloody knuckles and I pulled up my knees to my chest and I just finished crying. Eventually I ran out of tears and I continued on with my journey and I finally did what I was supposed to, got back home and I got at least one hour of sleep before I had to get up for school. Thankfully nothing bad happened and I honestly didn’t know what I would have done if something did happen.

  The beginning of my twelve year old year was really fucking rough and brutal. I’ve tried so many suicide attempts that I’ve lost count. In fact most of my scars are from self harm. The reason why I’m still alive is because if you actively try to commit suicide statistically speaking there’s an 85% chance that you won’t succeed so there’s that. Towards the end of my twelve year old year got so much better. I eventually came to the realization that I could control my grades again. I thought that if I could just distract myself long enough and get my grades back up to my usual straight A student status then everything else would fall back into place eventually. And it did. I buried myself in my school work to bring up my grades and to even get back ahead, my step dad bothered me a little less since I was focusing on school, my parents stopped arguing for the most part, Adam was back on the right path again and my friends came back to me one by one.  We even had five new additions to our family. Morgan Tatiano, Julie Bostons, Jewel Ingles, CJ Vargos, and last but not least Shawn Bishop. After that my family was pretty set in stone.

  Hell I even met my step dad’s oldest son from a previous relationship before he met my mom. His name was Michael Timothy Mulleney III. He was three years older than I was. So he was fifteen at the time. I was really happy because it was on my bucket list to meet at least one of his other kids and it was so cool to meet him. Over time however, he proved to be just like his dad. He would join in when my step dad picked on me. He was a delinquent to say the least. He was already in so much debt and over the last five years he’s had so many petty charges against him, continues to do stupid shit, miss too many court dates, violating probation rules twice, and had a warrant in a different county. He eventually got himself into prison for three years when I was seventeen.

  Adam knew about it right away because I told him since no one else was going to. My parents were furious with what I did. I’m sorry but I don’t believe in withholding information. I think it is unnecessarily cruel to deny someone knowledge when they ask for it. Besides he was going to find out sooner or later. They couldn’t keep it from him forever. I’d much rather have him know sooner than later. Despite Michael being just like his dad there were times where all of us were like actual siblings and I really do miss him overall.

  Thirteen was a really great year for me. Probably one of the few years that I would actively choose to go back to. I had a really great therapist named Heidi and on thursdays we did horse therapy since she owned a ranch too, which was always fun. I was also diagnosed with OCD with my cleaning because I discovered that as long as I was being productive he ignored me when he was angry for the most part. Which resulted in less beatings. As soon as he got angry or came out of his room I began cleaning and I did it quickly, quietly and efficiently. My method worked half of the time. It just became obsessive and compulsive. Now it’s just routine. I was also diagnosed with Insomnia when I told her about my sleep schedule or lack thereof and she finally made the doctors do something about it and prescribe me medication. I stopped taking the medication since it wasn’t working anyways and my step dad kept fucking around with what sleep schedule I was trying to establish by keeping me up for days on end when I didn’t have to and my insomnia wasn’t used to my advantage. I figured if I went this long managing it without medication I could do it some more and it would be easier to do so.

  I came up with a lot of good realizations at thirteen. One being who cares what other people say and think about me. As long as I know the truth about myself that’s all that matters. Another one being is that life is not guaranteed especially in my case with life at Rosewood and at home. It’s so tiring to be hateful all the time and I was already tired as it was from lack of sleep, insomnia, and narcolepsy. I had to save my energy for fights at Rosewood and at home to ensure my own survival and the survival of others. Besides was that the way I really wanted to go out when my time comes? No. The only thing I ask for when my death comes is for it to be quick and painless. That’s it. My favorite thing that I learned was to say fuck it. Life is too short and if I was going to get punished for no reason I might as well go all out, go big or go home and have fun while I can. If I’m going to get punished then at least I got something out of it. I learned to live a little and sneak out.

  It was so fun. Slightly dangerous because there’s at least two kids wandering around on the back roads at night at ungodly hours but it was still fun. At least Autumn and I would plan at lunch to sneak out later on at night. Other members of our gang were welcome to join but oftentimes none of them would remember to sneak out of their houses at the established times. So it was almost always just Autumn and I. That’s how I became more stealthy because of sneaking out constantly. Autumn showed me how to use the back roads so I’m now able to get all over town without being seen for the most part. We would just walk and talk about anything and everything, we would joke around and have fun. I felt so free when we snuck out at night and when I was with her. We could just be ourselves and be teenagers for once. We could be happy, and just forget everything for a while. We didn’t have to worry about surviving the next day, home, Rosewood, Horatio. ect…It was nice to be free for a couple of hours. The best part was that it pissed off my step dad so much because he knew I snuck out but he has absolutely no proof that I have been. It’s fun watching him struggle to justify my punishments.

  The best part about sneaking out was always on New Years Eve. That was the only time the entire gang made it a point to sneak out all together. We had this spot in the woods that was abandoned but it was safe since I trusted them and Autumn. Either Autumn or I would bring some form of booze since both of our families had at least one bottle of liquor around. We would pass the booze to each other and sing along to songs we knew and we would just celebrate another year of surviving Rosewood, we were all alive and in one piece and we all still had each other. That was good enough for us. This was our tradition from 13-16.

  Fourteen, fifteen and sixteen were pretty much smooth sailing more or less. Everything plateaued out. At fourteen I had Dr. Rachel and she had the doctors diagnosed me with narcolepsy once Dr. Rachel discovered that my sleeping habits were more than just insomnia. I was prescribed medication for that too but I stopped taking that as well because it wasn’t working. Fifteen I was diagnosed with non verbal learning disorder. Which means I can’t pick up on social cues very well. This was by Dr. Collins, she was okay I guess. Sixteen I had Dr. Baxter but he wasn’t much use because I felt as though I didn’t have any major issues to talk about aside from the ones I grew up with but I learned better coping mechanisms and my issues and my issues were more manageable. There was nothing else to talk about and he seemed very annoyed by that.

  I Even got a job at a restaurant called This or That. It was a typical family style restaurant and I worked in the back of the kitchen from fourteen through a quarter of the way through seventeen. I started to put aside money for Adam in a bank account so that way when he is old enough he has a lump sum of money that’s all his. Hopefully he uses to get the fuck out of Maplehood. I even started to put aside money for myself so I can buy a bus ticket and get the fuck out of Maplehood myself and start a whole new life when I was old enough.

  Of course the abuse continued and so did my fighting, survivalist life at Rosewood but I had my friends or more like my family to help me through it. We all helped each other. They were my main motivation for living besides Adam. Honestly if I never had met them I’d probably be dead or a more vicious and violent person than what I am if my step dad had his way. They taught me what family, kindness, compassion, love, home, and acceptance was. I wouldn’t have known what that was if I never met them. I can never repay them for what they did I owe them everything. Including my life and I knew they would do the same for me.

   I just never knew that that would be put to actual use one day.

  It was September 28.It…was homecoming day. The days following homecoming was spirit week. One of the only times where Rosewood was actually a normal school. Friday was Rosewood pride. Where we celebrate Rosewood and the sports teams. Hell it was one of the rare times I actually wore the skirt part of the uniform. At the end of the day we would have the pep rally with all these competitions. It was actually quite fun. Later on that night Rosewood would have it’s own homecoming show and a dance with a theme to match. At Rosewood homecoming is a different theme every year. This year was carnival themed. Which I didn’t like as it is because I have a severe distrust of clowns. Too many horror movies growing up you know? On top of the fact I wasn’t exactly big on school functions, especially at that school. The only reason why I went was because my friends were going with the thought process of “fuck it, it’s our last year here or at least some of us only had a year to go and the least we can do is go to this one and only homecoming and celebrate one last hurrah together” I had the same thought process too. Not only that but since it was basically our last year there it was more important to me than ever to keep them alive since I knew damn well that Horatio would be there being up to god knows what. I was not going to lose them.

  The only thing was that I would have to convince my mom and step dad to let me go. That was the hard part. I got up the courage to call my mom knowing that she would be home since it was her day off and my step dad would be home as well like he always is. I asked her if I could go to homecoming. That resulted in a huge ass argument between my mom and step dad.

  “She’s a bad influence especially if she’s with those heathens she calls her friends!”, he yelled

  I physically cringed.

  “She’s seventeen now. She’s gone through her entire life having very little to no social interactions. She’s never been to at least one school function before and she’s a senior now, this is her last year there I’m sure that we can spare her this one event”, my mom argued back.

  “You know she’s incapable of making good decisions! How can we be so sure that she won’t get into one of those fights that she always gets into or worse she may end up accidentally killing someone!”

  “She’s a human! She’s troubled but she’s not a monster or demon child that you make her out to be! And besides, her therapist says that she needs more social interaction. This would be the perfect opportunity for her to get some socialization in a controlled environment and if it makes you feel any better my mother is supposed to come by today and visit. You could stay here with Adam and my mother and I will go with her to supervise. Does that sound fair to you?”, she asked.

  Wonderful, they were treating me like a freak experiment. I could hear my step dad huff and storm away on the other side of the phone.

  “Tabby”, my mother said in a sing song voice that really pissed me off, “does that sound fair to you?”

  “Yeah mom”

  “Good we’ll see you when?”

  “At six”

  The show was from six to eight and the dance was from eight to ten.

  “Okay good we’ll see then. I love you”

  “Love you too mom, bye”

  I hung up the phone and let out a sigh of relief and that’s when all of my friends came up to me.

  “So, what did they say?”, prodded Emmy.

  “Well after a long argument about letting me go and how much of a bad person that I am and that I’m incapable of making good decisions. My mom decided to let me go with the condition that she and my grandmother would come to supervise”, I said as I rolled my eyes.

  “At least you’re able to go”, pointed out Heath.

  “Yeah that’s true I really can’t complain. I’m just afraid that since Horatio will be there, I have no idea what he could be planning to do. I mean who knows how he acts at school functions”, I stated.

  “Relax Tabby cat. We’ll be right there beside you if anything happens. We won’t let each other out of our sight. We got your back just like you got ours”, grinned Autumn.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. They really were the best.

  “Thanks guys”

  “No problem”, said Autumn, “look we’re going home to get changed into something that’s not Rosewood. We’ll be back”, said Autumn.

  “Okay I’ll see you later”

  “You don’t want to at least go home and change out of that uniform? I know how much you hate skirts and all”, said Autumn confused.

  “Autumn, I never want to go home, you know this. I’d rather put up with slight discomfort, beats going home any day. Besides someone has to stay here and keep an eye on Horatio to make sure that he doesn’t try anything”.

 "Okay well do you at least want me to bring you some clothes to change into so you can get out of that skirt at least?“, she asked.

 "Nah I’m good besides I don’t want to throw my mom and grandmother into a conniption fit if they see me dressed in clothes that’s not mine or my Rosewood uniform”, I laughed.

  Autumn laughed too.

 "Fair enough. I’ll see you later"

 "See ya"

  Autumn left to go catch up with the rest of the gang while I went outside and sat on the curb to wait for my mom and grandma and my friends to show up.

  I saw Horacio showing back up and was standing at the entrance dressed as the ringleader handing out pink candies that were laced with LSD (we didn’t know it was laced at the time) to the staff. He claimed that they were homemade and he offered me a piece since I was just sitting there a few feet from him. Everyone who goes to Rosewood should know that it is common knowledge that you do not take anything that Horacio gives you. Whatever it maybe. I didn’t take the candy because I knew better. I was too smart for his bullshit but not smart enough.

  By five o clock everyone started showing back up and they all took one or two pieces of candy that he was giving out. I tried to warn everyone but they wouldn’t listen to me. It made my blood boil knowing that he was giving me an arrogant smirk and there was nothing I could do about it. It was getting late and there were still no signs of my friends. Maybe they were running late. Or, maybe I was too busy fighting with Horatio that I didn’t see them come in. Still I couldn’t shake off the growing anxiety and dread that was creeping over me.

  At 5:45 my mother and grandmother showed up. I tried to keep them away from Horatio but he was too slick and sickly sweet it made your stomach hurt at how he talked to them. They both seemed pleased and then they looked at me like I was the crazy one that had a problem with him. They took a piece of candy after I warned them not to but they didn’t listen to me either. It seemed as if I was the only one who didn’t take the candy. It was me against them.

  We were led to the left side of the building where the high school section was. There was a makeshift stage and chairs all lined up neatly. I still couldn’t find my friend group anywhere. But I knew that they were here so I didn’t worry about it too much and I’ll find them later. They had to be here. They promised that they would and that they would have my back. More importantly I promised that I would have their backs and we don’t break promises. So I got to the seats and watched the show which was quite boring since I wasn’t hallucinating from the candy. But the last act though. It was outside. I saw all my friends lined up on the rooftop of the school and it’s a fucking tall building. While everyone was thinking that they were doing some acrobatic tricks I watched them jump to their deaths one by one….I was screaming and crying begging someone to help but all ignored me and I couldn’t shout because they were too far up to hear me and I couldn’t break into the school either. i couldn’t do anything. later on the LSD wore off and they were mortified to find the 14 dead bodies. all confused on how it happened. So they deemed it the Rosewood Massacre.

  After the show was over I confronted Horacio about what he did. I attacked him to strangle him. My goal was to kill him. but the problem was that we’re too evenly matched with each other. in strength and intelligence so it turned out to be a fist fight. we did a good amount of damage to each other. until he caught one of my punches and shoved my fist through a closed window shattering the window and every bone in my hand. i had to get the glass surgically removed as it was deep in the tissue so I can’t feel a thing in my hand anymore and they had to set my hand for the broken bones to heal. But since doctors refused to do their jobs correctly they set it wrong so it healed wrong and now my hand is paralyzed.

  My mom let me stay home for the month to let my hand heal and to work through the trauma of what happened at Rosewood. She would bring my school work home to me. Even my step dad was slightly nicer to me. I guess he even took some form of pity on me.

  My therapist at the Dr. Consworth wanted me to talk about what happened. She only knew the story that the news put out there. But she doesn’t know the real story of what happened and there’s no way she was going to. She wouldn’t have believed me to begin with and she could never understand the pain I was going through. She did manage however to diagnose me with PTSD so there’s that I guess.

  What really made me lose my shit was when my step dad told me to get over it and that I shouldn’t be hurting because it was my fault that they died in the first place. His logic was that if I never showed up then they wouldn’t have died. After all bad shit seems to always happen around me is his belief. I had enough at this point and I stood up and yelled.

  “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?! YOU THINK THAT WAS ALL MY FAULT?! MINE?! I DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG BUT TRIED TO WARN EVERYONE! I HAD NO IDEA THAT HE WOULD DO THAT?! THIS WAS ALL HORATIO’S FAULT! IT’S BEEN HIS FAULT FOR THE LAST EIGHT YEARS! I HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT PROTECTED, SAVED, LOVE AND CARE FOR MY FRIENDS AND THEY DID THE SAME FOR ME! THEY WERE MORE OF A FAMILY THAN YOU AND MOM WILL EVER BE! AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT I SHOULD JUST GET OVER IT?!”, I finished as I was breathing heavily.

  He just stared at me in shock. I was so pissed I knew that I would get hurt if I stayed any longer. I knew an outburst like that would result in a beating but I just didn’t care. I lost everything, my sense of home, happiness and the ones I considered family what’s losing my life too?

  “YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK YOU!”, I screamed and I stormed out and slammed the door behind me.

  I was really in for it now but to tell you guys the truth I honestly didn’t care and I would deal with it when I get back home. Right now I just had to get away and I had some business to take care of. I knew exactly where to go.

  I stopped at Maplehood Creek Cemetery and looked for the Rosewood Massacre section since I heard they created a section for the victims in an attempt to honor them. Rumor turned out to be true as I saw twenty five graves with fourteen all lined in a row which were unmistakingly my friends.

  I sat down to have a talk with them.

 "Hey guys it’s me Tabby. I’m sorry that I couldn’t see you guys sooner I could only do it now", I said tiredly.

  I was upset and pissed that they lied to me and broke their promise. But at the same time they never did not once. So maybe they had a good reason to. Maybe Horatio tricked them or something. I don’t know and I guess I never will. They were my family, they did what no one else wanted to do. I owe them everything so I forgave them.

  “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to save you guys. I’m sorry that I failed to protect you. I’m sorry that I failed you not only as a leader but as a friend and as a sister as well. I’m sorry that I didn’t even say goodbye to you and that I love each and everyone of you”.

  I paused for a moment.

 "However, your deaths won’t go in vain. I will avenge all of you and take down Horatio once and for all. At least I can make Rosewood somewhat safe and make sure no one else has to suffer like we did. That’s a promise".

 I stayed silent for a few minutes enjoying the peace and quiet, giving one last look at them before standing up.

 "I love all of you goodbye. See you on the other side of the war and I hope to see you later when I get older…", I said softly before walking away and into the shit storm that was waiting for me back at home.

  Of course my step dad beat me as soon as I walked in the door. It was payback for what I did earlier. I expected it and I embraced it. I took what was coming to me and I even hoped that this would be the beating that kills me.

  It wasn’t and unfortunately I’m still alive.

  I laid awake staring blankly up at the ceiling. Thankfully I was able to go to bed early since my step dad decided that he didn’t want to deal with me for the rest of the night. Unfortunately sleep was non existent that night as I was replaying last month’s events. Seeing the ones that I held close jumped to their deaths one by one. Everyone cheering, my own screams of terror. I could still hear the breaking of the glass window as Horacio put my fist through it. My bandaged left hand clenched up as I felt the phantom pain. I tried turning onto my side to look at my alarm clock. I let out a silent yelp as I was in pain from my bruises. My alarm clock read 1:30am. I turned again onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. Mom was going to make me go back to school tomorrow and I am just not ready to survive another day of Rosewood torture and dealing with Horatio myself. I just wasn’t prepared to fight alone again.

  Then suddenly it dawned on me like I just got hit with a big pile of bricks. I came up with the realization that If I stayed in Maplehood any longer I would be killed for sure. Either by Horatio, my step dad or myself. One of the three and I can’t die not yet. Not until I avenged my friends and killed Horacio once and for all.

  So I did the most sensible thing that I could do. I got up and winced in pain at my bruises. I got dressed and packed up a small bag. With a couple of pictures. One of mom, step dad, older brother and younger brother and I  and one class photo in 8th grade that was just me with my now deceased friends and some clothes. I took what money I had saved up in my sock drawer. I was going over a couple of towns to the nearest bus stop and buy a bus ticket and get the fuck out of Maplehood and start my life over somewhere else.

  Obviously that didn’t happen or I wouldn’t be where I am now.

  Anyways. I snuck out and headed for the woods that were surrounding my backyard. I never felt so free and full of hope before in my life. This time it was me who saved me. I saved myself. I gave myself a second chance at life and I never looked back.

  Ever.

[adeliaharris]

My Favorite Books...

1. Harper Lee "To kill a Mockingbird"

The story of a small sleepy town in the South of America told by a little girl. The story of her brother Jim, dill's friend and her father - the honest principled lawyer Atticus Finch one of the last and best representatives of the old "southern aristocracy". The story of the trial of a black guy accused of rape a white girl. But first of all it is the story of a turning era when xenophobia, racism, intolerance and bigotry inherent in the American South are warming to the past. The "wind of change" has just begun to blow over America. What will it bring?

- This is probably one of my favorite books.The book captured from the very first pages and did not let go for a long time after reading. You can say a lot of things but better read it.

2. Khaled Hosseini "The Kite Runner"

A heartfelt story of friendship and fidelity, betrayal and redemption, penetrating to the very core. Delicate, ironic and sentimental in a good way, Khaled Hosseini's novel resembles a painting that can be looked at endlessly set in pre-war Kabul in the 1970s. In this magical city shimmering with all shades of gold and azure two weather boys Amir and Hasan live. One belonged to the local aristocracy the other to a despised minority. One's father was handsome and important the other was lame and pathetic. Master and servant, prince and beggar, handsome and crippled. But there were no people in the world closer than these two boys. Soon the Kabul idyll will be replaced by formidable storms. And the boys, like two kites, will be picked up by this storm and scattered in different directions. Each has its own destiny its own tragedy but they like in childhood are tied by the strongest bonds. You run after the kite and the wind as you run after your destiny, trying to catch it. But she will catch you.

- Psychological novel on the theme of "crime and punishment". Deeply elaborated images, convincing children's characters, a remarkably built plot - everything speaks of a great master. For me it is "heavy" literature but it has the right to be because it calls things by their proper names. And most importantly there is light in the stories of Hosseini! The light of true human feelings.

3. F. Scott Fitzgerald "The Great Gatsby"

A jubilant, sparkling thirst for life, a desire for love, alluring and elusive, exciting pursuit of wealth - but now the dream breaks to the sound of jazz and the eternal holiday turns into a tragedy. "The Great Gatsby" is a novel about "how illusions are wasted which make the world so colorful that  having experienced this magic, a person becomes indifferent to the concept of true and false." F. S. Fitzgerald

- I read it and was not at all disappointed! Elegant presentation with high meaning - everything in this life is done for the sake of love. And no amount of money can replace the woman you love... And even if she is stupid, frivolous and idly living her life. I have great respect for Gatsby and contempt for Daisy. There are a lot of wonderful quotes, phrases in the book, it's worth thinking about. I didn’t expect to literally fall in love with this piece! In the future I will definitely re-read it more than once!

4. Daniel Keyes "Flowers for Algernon"

Forty years ago it was considered a fantasy. Forty years ago it read like fantasy. Exploring and expanding the boundaries of the genre eagerly absorbing all sorts of newest trends trying on a common human face bravely ignoring the Cain's stamp of the "genre ghetto". Now it is perceived as one of the most humane works of modern times as a novel of piercing psychological power, as a filigree development of the theme of love and responsibility. It is not for nothing that Keyes called his book of memoirs published in the 1990s "Algernon, Charlie and Me."

- The book is an emotion that will not make you think about something particularly difficult. All the thoughts that it generates are very simple and understandable. Without revelations, of course, but not bad either. The assessment will, rather, depend on the degree of personal sensitivity because the author often uses the concept of "naive hero-evil reality-collision-squeezing out sympathy" during the work.

5. Agatha Christie  "Murder on the Orient Express"

The great detective Hercule Poirot who was in Istanbul returns to England on the famous "Orient Express" in which it seems, representatives of all possible nationalities travel with him. One of the passengers an unpleasant American named Ratchett offers Poirot to become his bodyguard since he believes that he could be killed. The famous Belgian brushes off this absurd request. And the next day the American is found dead in his compartment with the doors closed and the window open. Poirot immediately takes up the investigation - and finds out that the compartment is full of all sorts of evidence pointing... to almost all the passengers of the Orient Express. In addition the train gets stuck in snow drifts in a deserted place. Poirot needs to find the killer before the express can continue on its way...

- I liked the book. Pretty easy to read. The plot is "confused" from the very beginning but Mr. Poirot is yet  a world-famous detective. It is better to read about all the twists and turns of the investigation on your own, "immersion" is guaranteed.

6. Stieg Larsson "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo"

Forty years of the mystery of the disappearance of a young relative haunts the aging industrial tycoon and now he makes the last attempt in his life - entrusts his search to journalist Mikael Blomkvist. He takes on a hopeless business more in order to distract himself from his own troubles but soon realizes: the problem is even more complicated than it seems at first glance.

What is the connection between a long-standing incident on the territory with the use of mobile devices which happened in different years in different parts of Sweden? What does the quotation from the Third Book of Moses have to do with it? And who, after all, attempted on the life of Michael himself when he came too close to the solution?

- The whole trilogy left a deep impression. Such books appear very rarely. Out-of-the-box characters, amazing Sweden, dark atmosphere. I advise absolutely everyone!

7. Ray Bradbury "Fahrenheit 451"

Perhaps the best of Bradbury's writings. The story "Fahrenheit 451" depicts a dystopian society of the future but in fact - "our reality, reduced to absurdity." Bradbury invented a state where reading and keeping books is prohibited. For the sake of political correctness and general peace of mind the general level of spiritual and intellectual demands of citizens is artificially lowered. But there are rebels and fugitives.

This is one of Bradbury's rare sci-fi works. Very exciting touching and at the same time very lively and dynamic. With a relatively simple plot, it is full of allusions including biblical texts and complex symbolism.

- This is just a great book! I advise everyone to read it! Despite the fact that the author wrote it in 1953 this does not feel at all. A very interesting and poignant plot for our time.

8. Victor Hugo "Les Miserables"

All the works of the great French poet, novelist and playwright Victor Marie Hugo (1802-1885) are covered with a halo of romanticism. The idea of ​​life-giving love, mercy, the triumph of good over evil - this is the core of his novel "Les Miserables". Among the "outcasts" are Jean Valjean sentenced to 20 years for stealing bread for his starving family and the little dirty Cosette who turned into a charming girl and a child of the Parisian streets of Gavroche...

- Brilliant work! So thoughtful, so overwhelming and so humane. The inimitable Hugo put all his philanthropy into this magnificent novel!

9. Stephen King "The Green Mile"

Stephen King invites readers to the eerie world of the death row where they leave in order not to return, opens the door of the last refuge of those who have transgressed not only human but also God's law. There is no more deadly place on this side of the electric chair! Nothing you've read before beats Stephen King's most audacious horror experience - a story that begins on Death Road and goes deep into the deepest secrets of the human soul...

- I have been familiar with the work of S. King for a long time and have read more than a dozen of his books. The work "The Green Mile" is a story that will not let you go for a long time. She leaves a residue in her soul - mixed feelings and indescribable impressions from the story itself, unique and ingenious.

10. Gregory David Roberts "Shantaram"

This art-refracted confession of a man who managed to get out of the abyss and survive, has sold four million copies around the world and has earned rave comparisons with the works of the best writers of the modern era from Melville to Hemingway. Like the author the hero of this novel has been hiding from the law for many years. Deprived of parental rights after a divorce from his wife, he became addicted to drugs, committed a number of robberies and was sentenced by an Australian court to nineteen years in prison. Having escaped from a maximum security prison in his second year, he reached Bombay where he was a counterfeiter and smuggler, traded arms and participated in the showdown of the Indian mafia and also found his true love, to lose it again, to find it again...

- It is very difficult to somehow categorically evaluate this novel. There are many advantages here: a fascinating story of the wanderings of the protagonist in the world of a harsh exotic country. Together with him, the reader develops, absorbs the alien culture and energy of other people, people of another world to which we are not used to. However there is something ridiculous about this.  At times it seems that we are watching real Indian cinema - the brainchild of Bollywood naive and merciless. In general I liked the novel, it is interesting, bright, impetuous. During the period of reading this great story, I have never been bored. Despite some controversial points - I advise!

[panikki]

So Many Ways to be Wicked

The Core Four are heading to Auradon, but not for the reasons their parents think. Sure, they'll be grabbing the wand but it definitely won't be for a bunch of washed up has-beens. With powerful children of the villains by their side, Mal, Jay, Carlos, and Evie will take over Auradon. Long Live Evil

~~~~~

My first fanfiction for this fandom. I initially posted it to AO3 but I thought maybe I should try posting it here for feedback.

Pairings: Jay/Carlos, Mal/Evie, minor Ben/Mal

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Child abuse, implied and referenced rape/non-con (nothing detailed at all), possibly a panic attack but I can’t remember, gore and blood later on

No beta, we die like socially anxious nerds who don’t know how to find betas.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Maleficent stood tall and proud in front of the four children, a smirk on her thin lips. The woman was thin, even more so than she had been in her glory days. Behind the four children stood three other villains, Grimhilde, Jafar and Cruella de Vil.

“You’ve been summoned to Auradon, as you all know,” Maleficent gestured to the four identical pieces of fancy parchment that had been crumpled and thrown to the ground in anger. “I expect you to retrieve the wand from that disgraceful faerie who protected Cinderella. You will go to Auradon and do anything you must to get me off this Isle. You do not want to know what I will do, what we,” she gestures to the sneering villains around the room, “will do to you should you fail. Dismissed.” Maleficent twirled around, her staff clutched in her hand with Diavolo perched on top. She did not allow anyone to protest, whether it was the children or the adults. She disappeared into a room, slamming the door shut. Instantly, the adults in the room began talking, arguing with each other, although they would never try to argue with Maleficent when she was so obviously on a power trip. The kids were all frozen in place, different thoughts running through their head, although they all were generally the same; what the absolute fuck.

“The mutt will not be going!” Cruella’s shriek shook the teens out of their stupor. They all looked at each other before they all locked eyes onto Carlos, Cruella’s son. Their eyes held well-hidden apologies and anger on behalf of the boy. His dark eyes were blank, freckles standing out against his pale cheeks. “Who would take care of the chores for me? What’s the point in having him if he can’t do something useful?” With long strides, the woman had made her way beside Carlos. She grabbed him by the dark roots of his white hair and yanked. Carlos fell to his knees, though he didn’t struggle against her. The three teens next to him, Jay, Evie, and Mal tensed, knowing if they tried to intervene it would make things worse for the boy. A boiling, dark anger gripped at their hearts at seeing the youngest of their group at the mercy of the madwoman.

“You will not go to Auradon, do you understand me, mutt?” The woman hissed, spit flying into Carlos’ face. Carlos barely flinched, having dissociated a while ago. Like a robot, the boy whispered a quiet ‘yes ma’am’ that satisfied Cruella. She let go of his hair, shaking the clump she had pulled out off of her hand with a sneer. Carlos slumped forward, a hand slowly going to the back of his head. He drew his hand back sharply, though he didn’t make a noise of pain. His fingers came back with a bit of blood on it and he knew without having to look that his friends were livid.

“Jadid cannot go either,” Jafar threw in, always wanting to put in his own two cents. Jay rolled his eyes before turning to face the man, keeping his face carefully blank. Even the slightest twitch of his face could set his father off, yelling and screaming about how Jay was useless, a bastard child with no talent, how everything would be better if Jafar had tossed Jay off the edge of the Isle and let the sharks have at him. “Jay has tasks that need to be fulfilled, my shop needs to be stocked. Even if his wares are abysmal and disappointing, much like himself.” Jafar sneered at the tall boy, crossing his thin arms over his chest.

“Well, Genevieve will be happy to go. She’s a princess, that is where she belongs. With a handsome prince that she can marry. Not too mention the amount of money she will inherit once that handsome prince dies suddenly,” Grimhilde smiled wide, a faraway look in her dark eyes. Evie walked to her mother’s side, her mother grabbing her slender wrist.

“Yes, and once he is out of the picture, I would send for you, mother,” Evie said in a gentle voice. Grimhilde’s smile grew impossibly wider and her long nails cut into Evie’s wrist.

“That’s ENOUGH,” Mal shouted, fed up with everyone talking and arguing over something that could not be changed. Mal’s eyes flashed an iridescent green, the only hint that she possessed Maleficent’s heritage as a faerie. Begrudgingly, the elder villains stopped talking to themselves and muttering threats to their child (at least in the de Vil’s case). “Unless you want to be chopped up by the goblins and thrown into the water or fed to the beggars, I suggest you remind yourselves that this plan was made by Maleficent, someone much more powerful than the three of you combined. The plan will go into play and there is nothing you can do to stop it. No one will care if the creep in the shop, the hermit from the old castle and the insane puppy skinner (oh I’m sorry, you never actually were able to go through with that were you?) suddenly disappeared.” The three children of said villains stepped away from the parents slightly, expecting an explosion. There was none, not yet anyway.

“Come, Jadid, we must go,” Jafar said, his skeletal face turned into a sneer, an evil look in his black, beady eyes. 

“He will go nowhere. If you don’t remember, Jafar, but we must plan and you don’t want to cross Maleficent, right?” Mal smirked. They had one week to plan, enough time where they can hide out in Carlos’ hideout or in an abandoned room in Grimhilde’s castle. The kids had things they needed to do and Mal needed every one of them at their best, especially if they were to approach a certain gang on the Isle. Jafar grimaced and disappeared, his ratty cloak sweeping out with him. Cruella had devolved to talking to herself and her fur coat and Grimhilde hadn’t heard a word, too busy fussing over the wrinkles she had gained. Mal took advantage of the situation, beckoning the three other villain children to follow her. They made their way out the back door of the castle and through the streets.

“What’s going on Mal?” Evie whispered, smiling coyly at a middle-aged henchman while Jay swiftly took what he had been holding and what had been in his pockets. They swiftly danced around any potential threats and broke any hands that tried to pickpocket them.

“Mal, where is it we’re going?” Carlos asked, barely looking as he twisted the wrist in his hands until he heard a cry of pain and a snap. He threw the elder villain’s arm away from him and caught up with the others.

“To the hideout, where Maleficent won’t be able to use her nasty little spies to listen to us talk about our plan for Auradon,” Mal finally answered. They were in a more abandoned part of the Isle, so she thought it okay to finally speak. However, she caught the sight of a shadow moving in an alley. She froze, a hand coming up to stop the rest of the gang. She then pointed down the alley. Jay and Carlos broke out of formation, being the strongest and quickest of the bunch. They peeked around the corner to see Gil Legume hurriedly rushing towards the peer.

“Fuck,” Carlos whispered before sprinting after the man. He easily jumped and ducked under obstacles that gave Gil trouble, meaning he caught up with the teen quite easily. Jay was close behind, backup in case Carlos needed it. Carlos perched atop a pipe that ran from building to building before pouncing down, landing nimbly on his feet right in front of Gil. Gil startled, backing up into Jay. Carlos smiled charmingly.

“Now where do you think you’re going?” He asked in a smooth, quiet voice. It sent shivers down Gil’s back, and not pleasantly like the shivers running up Jay’s back. 

“Um-I was just, ya know, heading to the shop to, uh, talk to Uma,” Gil stammered out, eyes widening when he looked behind Jay to see the two girls walking towards them.

“And what, evil tell, were you going to talk to her about?” Evie asked sweetly. Gil perked up, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“I was gonna tell her about you talking about Auradon and your plan!” He exclaimed, giddy like a small puppy. Mal stepped forward.

“Let him go Carlos, Jay. Legume, tell Shrimpy I want to talk. The Pirate Queen, I hear she calls herself. Obviously a bad parody of the Dragon Queen, but whatever sinks her boat,” Mal sneered. Carlos stepped out of the way and they all watched as the Legume boy stumbled his way to the Fish and Chips shop Uma and her little pirate crew worked at.

“This is going to be great, much better than expected,” Mal sing-songed before turning on her heel and heading back towards the hideout.

Once inside the graffitied walls, they all crash landed onto the closest bed. They were all completely overwhelmed with what had to be done, but they also had to come up with a game plan for whenever Uma got the message.

“We’ll be going to the shop tonight,” Mal said from her spot squished between Evie and Carlos.

“Why do you need to speak with Uma anyway?” Evie asked, resisting the urge to furrowed her brow. Wrinkles were unsightly.

“The shrimp may be a bitch but she’s been able to round up an entire crew and get them to follow her and her alone, without the use of her mother,” Mal spat out, grinding her teeth. “We could use someone like that when we take over Auradon. When we are the kings and queens, we can’t have those pirates working against us, now can we?” 

“What?” Carlos asked, sitting straight up and jostling Jay with his bony shoulder. “We aren’t gonna get the wand and free Maleficent?”

“Evil no Carlos, get with it,” Mal said, though there was little malice in her tone. “Why would I give the wand to a bunch of pathetic has-beens who didn’t even get it right when they had the chance? No, we will steal the wand but not for them. We will become rulers of Auradon! Us and all the other VKs stuck on this hell of an Isle. We’ll see who’s laughing, then.”

[nomnomzombies]

Gold and Silver--Two Sides of the Same Coin

TW: discussion of mental illness, rape, and suicidal ideations

First and foremost, thank you so much to your overwhelming support of my 8x04 analysis, even though it wasn’t totally finished. As I was working on an outline to finish it up, something.... grew out of it.  

The themes I discussed in my previous essay addressed Identity and Accountability—but I’ve long believed that identity is a core principle of the themes explored throughout all of ASoIaF. That assertion may feel a little superficial in a world that’s dictated by ruling houses and are characterized by their sigils; a name is as powerful as a sword in Westeros. But the story we’ve all tuned in for is the characters. We’ve watched them on this transformative journey to understand where they were, where they are, and where they’re going. While we may or may not like what we understood of their journeys so far and what’s happening now, I think it’s important to sometimes take a step back and reevaluate everything we think we know. Because, let’s face it, the ending that we’re barreling towards is 100% Made in by Martin. While I’ve remained adamant that Dark/MQ Dan has been in the making for a long time—I'm passionate about understanding the other perspective. A common complaint that I’ve heard about MQD is that we already have a “Mad Queen” Cersei. Isn’t this redundant? Why are we pitting women against each other? Making Dan Mad Queen devalues Cersei’s arc/Mad Queen Dan is an injustice to Dan’s arc. But the question begins to take root—was there somewhere else we could have been looking for this ending? Were there other parallels we could have made that would have enlightened us to this transformation of Dan’s character? The last few weeks, I’ve been making offhanded comments about how if we were watching the show about Robert’s Rebellion and his early reign, would we be rooting for Cersei as our defensible, ruthless feminist icon? Has it really been there the whole time?

I’m primarily going to be citing the show with reinforcement from the text since I have incredibly poor organizational skills and I don’t know an effective way to look up specific quotes without leafing through a 500+ pg tome for twenty minutes at a crack.  

Shall we begin?  

The Proud Lion and the Beggar King

Cersei and Jaime’s relationship is a cornerstone of the series. We understand that the romance is forbidden, but we’re also coerced into justifying its legitimacy on the precedent that the Targaryens set throughout their entire reign. The characters themselves have had conversations where they verbalize these facts to not only one another but also in their defense to the other characters. Similarly, when we begin the narrative, Daenerys is accompanied by Viserys in Pentos and we’re confronted with this abusive and incestuous dynamic. Vis is very quick to bring up that they lived their lives with the understanding that they’d most likely be married to one another. Immediately, this parallel has become perpendicular. While Jaime and Cersei’s relationship is equally as abusive and manipulative under the surface, for different reasons we’re unsettled by Viserys’ outward physical, mental, emotional, and sexual abuse of his sister (seriously, what a piece of trash). While Jaime and Cersei have willingly engaged with one another, the dynamic is monumentally less consensual between the silver siblings. Continuing with this inverted parallel, we follow the four siblings throughout the first half of season/book one and see the power dynamic at play. Cersei is Robert’s queen, and we know that Jaime took the position with the King’s Guard to be closer to Cersei because otherwise Tywin would have forced Jaime to wed just as he brokered Cersei’s engagement (and subsequent coronation). Conversely, we see Viserys brokering the marriage between Daenerys and Khal (King) Drogo (and Dan’s subsequent ‘coronation’) for similar political means. Viserys refuses to leave Daenerys’ side, not out of love, but out of insecurity and the need for Drogo to make good on his end of the agreement. Daenerys, throughout the entire wedding is lamenting, “I want to go home,” which us book readers know that she’s referring to the house in Braavos. Every time she expresses this, Viserys quickly snaps that “Home is Westeros.” “There is no home until I take back my crown.” “That which was stolen from us—the Iron Throne.” The first half of book/season 1, Dan doesn’t give two shits about the Iron Throne. She wants family, love, connection. And she eventually finds this with the Dothraki. Love and community is not something that Cersei found in her marriage with Robert, but rather power. She became The Queen, as Dan became The Khaleesi. It’s important to note that the episodes in which the Twins and the Targs are separated from their counterparts are subsequent. The separation of the siblings are nearly simultaneous events. “The Wolf and the Lion” is the episode in which Jaime attacks Ned Stark in the streets of King’s Landing, then leaves the city to join Tywin’s host. The twins are separated for the next 3 seasons. The next episode, “A Golden Crown,” is the episode in which Daenerys has Viserys killed. Though their separation is permanent, we’re constantly assaulted with parallels between Dan and Vis from season 7 onward. Viserys is not with her in mind nor body, but rather in essence. As much as we understand Cersei to be the new Aerys II Targaryen, we’re being shown now that Dan is the new Viserys.

A Bride for an Army; A Marriage for a Crown.

Although Dan’s wedding night is very different from the show to the books, Cersei’s is incredibly consistent. From Dan’s point of view in the show, we see her raped by Khal Drogo for the first time—in the books, however, we’re met with a less brutal version of events. Although she was incredibly anxious throughout the course of the wedding, Daenerys II closes off with a back and forth of “No.” (Dan) “No?” (Drogo) “Yes.” (Dan). It’s interesting to note that Dan knew nothing about Drogo before their “greeting” ceremony in Daenerys I, whereas Cersei describes “worshipping” Robert in the lead up to their wedding. Interestingly enough, Cersei’s exact quote describes Robert as “lean and black-bearded,” though this is probably little more than a coincidence.... it’s not like the two blonde queens share any other physical traits in common..... It’s not like we’re talking about The Golden Lioness and The Silver Queen, or anything...

Anywho.... So we go from this idyllic state and crash back down to earth. In the time following their weddings, both women experience periods of severe depression and suicidal ideations. As Dan is acclimating to her time in the Dothraki sea, she describes her legs and hands as blistered and raw, and Drogo proceeds to engage in intercourse in the face of her obvious agony. She does not refuse, and neither does Cersei, though her tactics are a bit more refined as she describes using “other ways to finish [Robert] off.” We also see Dan reaching out to Doreah, a bedslave, in order to make her consorts with Drogo more enjoyable. Both women found solutions to the same problem, to make the nightmare more livable. But in the period following the marriage, both found themselves in situations where they’d rather it end than face another day (Dan) or throw themselves off of the red keep (Cersei). What kept them both going? For Dan, it was the beginning of the dragon dreams. For Cersei, it was her children.... (It’s almost like dragons and children have a parallel for these two women?)  

Regardless, they both have an “in” to political power through this marriage. They are both the queens to the strongest king in the land. 

Fast forward to the end of season one, and another two significant events take place for these women. S1e7, “You Win or You Die” marks the episode when Robert returns from his boar hunt, on his deathbed. We understand, later, that Cersei was the catalyst of the events that lead to his injury. S1e8, “The Pointy End” is the episode when Dan implores Mirri Maz Durr to treat Drogo’s bicep injury. It’s noteworthy that the two womens’ motivations were entirely opposite; nevertheless, the actions taken and the sequence of events that followed are directly paralleled, particularly when you analyze the outcomes of both scenarios. 

With Robert dead, and Drogo a husk, both of them ascend to a level of pseudo-power through their children. The last two episodes of season 1 mark the execution of Ned Stark and Joffrey’s rise to King, and Dan’s mercy-killing of Drogo and the blood sacrifice to birth the dragons. Both women spent the entirety of season 1 coming into a sense of agency and working to hone real power with lasting effects. The end of the season marks both of them moving into this new chapter of an elevated status (“Queen Mother” and “Mother of Dragons”). They’re far from achieving true power, but their game has now changed.  

The Mother

As far as I’m aware, only the show mentioned that Cersei and Robert had a trueborn son together. In the scene where Cersei visits Catelyn over Bran’s sickbed in 1x02, she talks about losing the Baratheon heir to a fever. This parallels the death of Rhaegal in that both of them would be the only “legitimate” children that they would have. The other three children would either be illegitimate in lineage or..... species.  

That’s really not where the parallels end between the six children, however, because as I talked about in my last essay (Identity and Accountability), the dragon and the throne have become direct symbols of the queens’ identity and power. We see this more fully-realized in later seasons, once Daenerys is able to ride Drogon into battle, and Cersei actually sits the throne, but the theory in its infancy still holds water because the children and the dragons are routes to power rather than power directly. People are still able to scoff at Cersei for being “Mother to the King” as they’re able to scoff at Dan’s dragons for being fledglings. The children and the dragons, themselves, hold power although they are not in positions to leverage it (even Joffrey, who fought so hard to be his own person and make his own decisions, was little more than a pawn, a vessel for Tywin, in the end).

Cersei receives a prophecy pertaining to her three children. By Maggy the Frog, “...you will have three. Gold their crowns, and gold their shrouds.” While the obvious answer is that they’ll have golden crowns because they’re monarchs (and in the books, the Dorne plot to make Myrcella queen) but at the same time, we need to recognize that their hair is also the staple Lannister Gold--“golden crown.” While we understand that the Baratheon heirs are 100% Lannister (much like Drogon is still 100% a dragon), they’re cloaked in the guise of the Baratheon name. Moreover, Joffrey understands Robert to be his true father, and commits atrocities throughout his lifetime hoping that he can win Robert’s approval. We see the Lannister identity, but particularly Cersei’s symbolic identity, cloaked under “Baratheon,” and as I’ve established, the children are Cersei’s link to her power--the throne. 

Prior to hatching her dragons, Dan receives the Mirri Maz Durr prophecy that reveals she is now barren. Like Magy’s prophecy limited the number of children Cersei would bear, now Mirri’s would limit Dan’s. In spite of that, though, she uses blood magic--”only death can pay for life”--to attempt to hatch the dragons (It’s not explicitly stated in the books or show that she actually used blood magic, but it’s the best theory that explains why Dan was fireproof through the pyre scene, so I roll with it). Once the dragons hatch, they are Gold (Viserion, for Viserys), Green (Rhaegal, for Rhaegar), and Black/red (Drogon, for Drogo). Instantly, Dan is more connected to Drogon than the other two. Not only do they connect more quickly and more deeply than she does to the other two, but Drogon is described as growing more quickly and into a far stronger dragon. Before she knew any of this, though, she named him after her deceased first husband. What was meant to be a touching tribute, became the biggest clue to Dan’s source of power and identity, as Drogon is not only named after Khal Drogo, but he presents with the Targaryen house colours—red and black. So her most deeply rooted sense of identity is immediately linked to her fastest growing avenue to power, notoriety, and ambition.  

Fast Forward to The Sons of the High Sparrow

I had an epiphany when I was analyzing the two characters’ arc, and I looked into the two major arcs that culminating in the two queens clashing in Westeros. In season 5, Dan is coping with the repercussions of the sacking of Slaver’s Bay and the Crucifixion of the Masters. Cersei is trying to manage the aftermath of Joffrey’s death, Tyrion’s trial, and Tywin’s murder. As I established in the last passage, the two of them are still using avenues to power, as their authority is under major scrutiny. With Tywin gone, Cersei has completely infiltrated the Small Council and is ruling in everything but title. Tommen is still king, and is married to Margaery this season. Dan is separated from Drogon. While she’s in Mereen, he’s awol eating children and burning shit (the usual). And, once again, because if indirect (yet painfully direct) action, the repercussions of their actions come to haunt them in the form of cultist insurgencies. Cersei takes the opportunity to elevate the High Sparrow in the wake of an embarrassing incident with the High Septon at a brothel. Dan’s impulsivity and reckless brutality in conquering Slaver’s Bay allowed the wounds of her arrogance to fester into the Sons of the Harpy (seriously—if she would have put the former masters to trial instead of crucifying them, she would have rooted out the SotH pretty damn quickly. But noooooooo Miss Injustice-with-”Justice”).  

I’m going to take a second to note that A Feast for Crows (Cersei) and A Dance with Dragons (Daenerys) are parallel books. The narratives of the two are meant to be simultaneously occurring. So, even though seasons 4 and 5 turned out to be a jumble in terms of timeline and sequencing, these two storylines still ran side-by-side.  

So s5e9, “The Dance of Dragons” culminates in Dan being forced out of Mereen by the SotH, rescued by Drogon, and is apprehended by the Dothraki. S5e10, “Mother’s Mercy,” shows Cersei’s High Sparrow arc climaxing with her Walk of Atonement. Parallel events could be seen as Dan’s apprehension at the hands of the Dothraki to Cersei being taken prisoner by the High Sparrow. Cersei’s walk of atonement would parallel Dan’s walk to Vaes Dothrak. Although Cersei is permitted to return to the Red Keep, she’s still awaiting trial. Although Dan is no longer in Mereen, she too is a prisoner awaiting trial. Cersei was stripped of her finery by the hands of the High Sparrow; Dan was stripped of hers by the Dosh Khaleen—both are regarded as the paramount of their religious institution. They’re both in a holding pattern for a time, but both eventually greet their trials with similar approaches. Dan actually attended her trial—though she had far less physical agency at the time. Long story short—they both avoided the consequences of their actions by burning down the religious center and simultaneously murdering EVERYBODY in seats of power. A one-and-done complete political overhaul and power acquisition. This isn’t the pseudo-power that we’ve seen up until now, either. Cersei’s actions lead to her taking the throne at the end of that episode. Following the burning of Vaes Dothrak, Dan is permanently reunited with Drogon—her symbol of power and identity—and she leads the charge of the Great Khalasar to Mereen. By the end of the season, both Dan and Cersei have successfully acquired unbridled power and are on a high-speed bullet train towards confrontation.  

Conclusion

For some people, Dan’s behaviour throughout the conquest of Slaver’s Bay and the Great Grass Sea was enough of a tip towards her tyrannical nature. To everybody, the burning of the Sept of Baelor was Cersei’s branding of “Mad Queen.” But let’s also see her ascension for what it was: a power play in the face of grief. Even though Dan will face similar losses to Cersei throughout the course of s7 and s8, the losses that Cersei endured throughout s4-6 are what paved her way to the throne. Cersei would never have taken the throne from her children. She would have preferred Tommen to rule and remain the silent authority, maneuvering in the shadows. So much like the loss of Dan’s two dragons and Mis, and her mounting paranoia and insecurity following RLJ and the Northern plotline, Cersei’s rise to power is less about going mad and more about ambition in the face of tragedy and loss. Every decision she’s made has been slow, cold, and calculating. Cersei is weighing every decision heavily. This isn’t impulsive and reckless brutality. The paranoia is a common denominator between Aerys, Cersei, and Dan, but it is not the dominating factor. So is “Mad Queen” appropriate for either of them? Considering the parallels that I’ve outlined above, having Dan sack King’s Landing following the death of two of her children and her last remaining friend and advisor (The death of Cersei’s children and Tywin prior to taking the throne) only serves to compare the two even more.