#because i'm making edgar my bitch now

[soaps-mohawk]

I just saw someone talk about Simon Riley being a rapist and the only way they tried to confirm it is by saying that he is a war criminal and all soldiers are misogynistic and sexist and they also talked about how he dreamt of hurting women in the comics when that's quite literally a normal reaction by being raped by both men and women (what I mean is that abused people sometimes dream of becoming someone they're not and don't want to be) but they conveniently forgot to mention how that "dream" was a nightmare. (Just wanted to rant about this and see your opinion)

The sigh I let out when I saw this ask this morning.

I'm so sick and tired of seeing this discourse. Not just in this fandom but in every fandom. Maybe it's just because I'm old and my frontal lobe is fully developed, or maybe it's because I was in fandom back in the days where there were no tags. You were lucky if you got a warning at the beginning of a fic. Most fics you walked in blind and if you didn't like something? You hit the back button and found something else.

This sudden mainstreaming of fandom has ruined these spaces. People come in, refuse to "learn the rules" that most of us learned by just existing in these spaces and watching others interact. There were no written rules back then. We learned by observing and occasionally being guided on fandom etiquette by those more experienced than us. Now it's just like people come in expecting fandom to be like every other space on the internet and then get defensive and angry when they realize it's not. Fandom is cringy. It's nerdy. It's happy and sunshine and it's dark and ugly like every media out there. Us creators and those of us more experienced in fandom have been screaming how to exist in fandom spaces from the rooftops but no one is listening and then everyone wonders why creators are leaving these spaces. Why fandoms keep getting abandoned.

All of that aside, this discourse about FICTIONAL characters pisses me off. Simon Riley is a FICTIONAL character. He has no morality, there is no right or wrong because he's FICTIONAL. You can make him do whatever you want to do because he's NOT REAL. You can give him wings and have him fly and guess what?? Cool, that can happen because he's NOT REAL. You want to make him a rapist? Cool, you can do that because he's FICTIONAL. You can make him whatever you want to make him because he's a character. He's not a living, breathing human being. There are no consequences of his actions because he's FICTIONAL!!!

Don't even get me started on this sudden discourse about dark fics and dead dove that's appeared recently. Dark media has existed for literal centuries. The Epic of Gilgamesh from 1800 BCE. The Odyssey. Mostellaria by Plautus. The Castle of Otranto published in the 1700s. Frankenstein. Dracula. The works of Edgar Allan Poe. Lolita. Hell, look at the Bible. The Bible, especially the old testament, is fucked up. Even in the watered down, bastardized King James version, the things the old testament "God" supposedly did, when you sit and actually think about them outside the lens of religious brainrot, are super fucked up.

People have been creating dark media for a long time. Horror has existed for a long time because it plays to our worst fears. It gives us a safe way to express those fears and to experience them without having to experience them first hand. You wouldn't bitch at a horror movie director for including things like rape and gore and murder in their movies?? So why is writing different? You think every horror movie director agrees with the things they portray on screen? You think every horror movie director would go out and murder someone just because they made a movie about it? No, because we're allowed to portray things in all forms of media, we're allowed to write things without morally agreeing with them. Guess what, most people that write rape or assault or violence, aren't going out and doing those things in real life. They don't support those things in real life. In fact, people that write dark fanfics are some of the loudest protesters against those things.

If you want to make Simon Riley a real person, guess what? He's not going to be even morally grey. Most people in the military are not good people. They're not. The people that are good people in the military, or were in the military, are the ones saying that the loudest. People that got tricked into joining, people that got promised things, people that did it because they had no other choice and then realized what it was really like after getting in? Those are the people to listen to. Not Call of Duty, not the people trying to convince you to join because they're glorified sales people and have a quota to fill. Look up videos of what happened in Iraq and Afghanistan at the hands of American and British soldiers. You would not like Simon Riley if he were a real person.

But he's not real. He's FICTIONAL. Even as a fictional character, he's not a good person. So many Call of Duty fans put on the blinders and ignore the fact that these men are out here committing awful acts of violence and killing people because they're "the good guys." People love to forget that Price literally kidnapped a woman and a child and had them held at gunpoint to get information out of someone. Not only that, he was okay with it. If he were a real person that did that, you would not be questioning if he were a good person or not. You can tell the people that have never played the games or watched playthroughs, who only know these characters through the lenses of fanfics and artwork and headcanons.

Call of Duty is military propaganda. They paint these men as heroes, make it easy to put the blinders up and ignore the things that are happening, the things they're doing so that they can convince young men that they want to do that and they should join the military so they can go out and do that too. That's Call of Duty's audience. That's who they're creating these games for. These young, impressionable boys who get excited by the violence and the action who will go on to fill quota numbers for recruiters. Call of Duty was not made for us, the people writing fanfiction and creating art for it. This side of the Call of Duty fandom will be the first to tell you all of this.

This side of the fandom creates fanworks which would turn Activision's eyes red. We babygirlify their military propaganda because it actively goes against what Activision is trying to do. It goes against what Call of Duty is at its core. Sure, some people water it down a lot, and others keep it more realistic to what these men would be like in real life, because it's FICTION. You can portray these characters however you want because that's what fiction is for.

And guess what, anon? Rape kinks exist. Consensual non-consent exists. It's well known. And guess what? Victims of sexual assault and rape can develop those kinks as a coping mechanism. Here's a study from the NIH website, and if that's too complex for you, here's a VICE news article that uses that study. People can write rape and rape kinks and CNC and noncon and not support it in real life. People can write those things to bring awareness to the fact that they happen to people in real life, or because people in real life have those kinks. People write those things to help victims, to support them. It's cathartic. Dark media most often is created for catharsis. It gives people an outlet, and it allows people to experience those things in a safe, controlled environment for whatever reason.

And that's the thing, anon. People don't have to give anyone a reason for why the consume that kind of media. Creators don't owe anyone an explanation as to why they create it. It's none of your business, and if you're not comfortable with it, then don't consume it. You can turn off the TV if a horror movie is too much for you. People walk out of theaters all the time because a movie is not what they were expecting, be it because it was bad or because it was too graphic or violent or disgusting. You start reading a book and you don't like it for whatever reason? You put the book down and pick up another. Why do people have such a problem with not reading fanfics they don't like? Why do people have such a hard time just blocking creators that make things they don't want to see. Most dark fic and dead dove creators put ample warnings on their blog and their posts. That's why those tags exist. You don't like it and you don't want to see it? Then block and move on and let others enjoy what they want to enjoy.

You pearl clutchers are ruining fandom and soon there won't be anything for you to enjoy. If you can't handle fandom, then don't be in it. There is no algorithm here. You're going to see things you don't want to see and it's very easy to just block and filter tags. There was a time on Tumblr where you couldn't filter tags. I remember those days. You had to download the X-kit extension to block things, and that only worked on desktop. The fact Tumblr gave us the option to filter tags on the site and on the app was a big deal when it was rolled out. I remember so many people that didn't want to use the app when it first came out because you couldn't block potentially triggering tags.

It's not a creator's problem if you were triggered by their media. Life doesn't come with trigger warnings and it's a blessing that it's become so normalized to include warnings at the beginnings of fics. There's websites that exist for other forms of media that will give trigger warnings. If you can look up trigger warnings for a movie and decide not to watch it, you can look at the trigger warnings for fics and decide not to interact with it. You're not out here emailing the directors and producers of movies that include triggers you don't like, telling them they're awful people for including those things in their movie and they shouldn't. Yet you have no problem coming into the comments and inboxes creators who do this FOR FREE because we wrote one dark fic. Because we wrote something that's triggering to you.

And yes, some abuse victims go on to be abusers, some people continue that cycle because they don't have the help and support to break it. It's a sad thing that happens, but it happens. It happens in the fictional world and it happens in real life. People can make that happen to fictional characters for whatever reasons they want.

I've written dark fics. I've written several. I consume "disturbing" media for fun. I've read books and watched movies that would send these pearl clutchers to the hospital. Hell, I've probably written things (some published, some that will never see the light of day) that would turn these pearl clutchers inside out. Guess what? That's okay because it's FICTION. It's cathartic. I don't have to give my reasons why because it's no one's business except those I decide to tell because I trust them and I know they'll support me. I don't support those things in real life. Just because I write for Call of Duty doesn't mean I support the things the game portrays. If you consume Call of Duty media be it the games or fanfiction, does that mean you support what the game supports? What the creators of the games support? What militaries around the world support?

Think about that next time.

I’ve made my stance very clear here before, but I’ll do it again. In real life, I am anti military, anti war, anti gun violence, anti genocide, anti fascism, anti terf, anti homophobia, anti conservative, anti rape, anti domestic violence, anti colonialism and pro choice.

Just because I may create or consume media with those things in it, does not mean I support them. It's high time some of these pearl clutchers learn that.

The next time you want to come into a creator's inbox or comments and spew hatred towards them because of the things they write, why don't you do something useful with your time instead.

This will be my only discussion on this topic. I will not be answering any more asks like this. I will delete and block anyone who tries to come "well actually"-ing into my inbox. If you don't agree with this stance, then get off my blog and block me.

[syrma-sensei]

Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.6: The New Famous Couple.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Setting: In the early 1980s.

Warnings: smut, angst, power imbalance, misogyny, typical period attitudes.

Word Count: 3.6k.

Summary: Soldier boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

“Soldier Boy seems to be infatuated with you, young lady.”

That's what Stan Edgar, one of Vought's associates, tells you after you've been offered a cup of coffee by his assistant. He has you summoned after the incident with Jack days ago. He dismisses the assistant with a lenient manner. The simple act impresses you; a man in power who's nice to his employees.

You're still digesting the fact Jack was kicked out of company like a dog. You've always thought Jack is invincible. You thought he was untouchable. But here we are, they threw him out like trash. Which means, he apparently isn't. He doesn't have control over you anymore. You're another man's property now. Your body shivers at the memory of Ben telling you so.

You take a sip, casting your eyes down. For some reason, the man behind the desk is intimidating you, more than Ben does. You can fathom there's deceit behind his mask of sagacity. And it's not a good sign. You're sick of being below men as such. You want to be free. But now, you're going to act as one, you have to. Because if you don't, you'll have another leash on your neck like the one Jack had on you.

You force a flattered smile, “I’m just a girl who got lucked out, sir.”

“Indeed,” He speaks with such eloquence, “Considering your status with your previous associate, Mr. Harold.”

A bitter bile rolls up in the back of your throat. You wash it down with another sip of your bitter coffee. He has to rub it in your face. You're practically a whore. However, you hold your chin up, “I’m not ashamed of my work, Mr. Edgar.”

That's true. You're not ashamed you survive this cruel world with unseemly means. You're past that. You had to work to eat, to live after your brother died, leaving you all on your own.

“That’s good,” He nods just so, “Because what I'm going to offer you requires no coy coquetry or sleazy bashfulness,” He adds, “I understand your contract designates you to work for us, whether Mr. Harold is associated or not.”

You give him a nod. That's true; your contract with Vought was with you, not with Jack, even though he was involved before. You scoff internally; all you signed were slavery contracts, whether the one with Jack or the one with Vought. There's no way to sugar-coat this. You're their bitch now.

“I was told you were having cold feet about being Soldier Boy's new public partner.”

Your body flinches again as you recall how he told you you belonged to him now. But from what Edgar just told you, you belonged to Vought now. Neither settle well with you.

“Well, I was confused,” You answer. A lie of course, “I thought Crimson Countess was Ben's girlfriend,”

Edgar chuckles, amused, “Well, they were,” He remarks, “But their popularity as a power couple has deteriorated as of yet. People need someone to relate with, and that is going to be you…”

You take another sip of your coffee, your body fidgeting under his perceiving eyes.

Naturally, Edgar picks up on your visible hesitation. “What if I told you I could offer you payback for your brother.”

Your eyes dilate in stupor, blinking as you absorb the fact he knows about your brother. Nobody knew about him but Jack. Edgar seems to have dug after you, which makes you shift in discomfort.

You wonder how your brother will be avenged. Edgar doesn't mean killing Ben, does he? The man is nearly invincible. He's the fucking strongest man alive. So, how? But the nonchalant confidence Edgar is speaking with gives you a hint that he isn't bluffing. But why? To your understandment, Ben is their most important asset. That's why they're keeping you in the first place. For him. Your mind whirl with questions and qualms.

But the most significant one… You want your brother avenged, but do you want Ben to get killed?

Your heart wrings at the thought of a dead Ben.

But he killed your brother, you remind yourself. But you love him…

Emotions burn behind your eyes, you try to hold them back. The war between your heart and mind is an alien sensation to you. And it's burning you up.

“Please him,” Edgar enunciates, tone nothing but business, “Keep him tamed… and on his toes. And your brother will be avenged.”

“How so?” Your brow raises in inquiry. You're still finding it difficult to picture Ben being taken down.

The tip of your stomach roils at the thought of Ben taking away from you. It dreads you how much effect the man has over you. You can't pinpoint it yet, but you're sure it's nothing like what you had with Jack. The thing you have with Ben is much more… intimate… akin to mutual infatuation. You love him, your mind tells you again.

“That’s none of your current concern,” He answers in a matter-of-fact voice, “When the time comes, you'll be informed.”

Despite your bemusement and your colliding feelings, you nod. You do want retaliation for your brother, but do you want it at your heart's expense? Ben is the only one who makes you feel free, safe, protected. He promised you so. Yet, here you are… discussing betrayal with this man.

“What say you?” He presses again.

You open your mouth to answer, but your ears prick up at the sudden ruckus behind Edgar's office door which swings open, followed by a cry, “Get off me!”

You shift in your seat and you're looking at her. Crimson Countess.

Her eyes are on fire as she glowers at Edgar, then at you, “You’re replacing me with her?!” She utters in revulsion.

“Your point has significantly dropped lately, Carol,” Edgar's tone is unchanging, “And that isn't befitting of Soldier Boy's image.”

Countess snickers, “It’s all about that fucker, isn't it?”

Your eyes furrow in confusion; isn't she supposed to be his girlfriend. Oh, she's now the angry ex-girlfriend.

She lets out a sour cackle, then leers at you, “You think a little bitch like you can handle him?” She grins wickedly, “Well, good luck with that…”

You don't like her gloating expression, then your eyes flit back at Edgar. He's looking at you, studying you. He wants to see how you're going to act. Is this some kind of a test? Is he testing where your loyalty lies?

Well, you don't give a damn. All you want right now is to smack that bitch in the face. However, you deliver it in a different way.

The flashing memories of your brother give you the audacity and courage to stick up.

“I think I can handle Ben just fine. And dare I say better than you did, Carol.”

Her mouth gapes at you; she didn't expect the comeback. For all she knows you're some hooker Ben fetched from the street.

You continue, a sly grin on your lips, “Did you know he likes to go on the fifth base?” You let out a mocking snore, “I bet you didn't. But tell ya one thing… he loves it.”

Countess is taken off guard by your blatant impudence. She never had someone like you standing up for themselves against her, you guess. You don't think ruffling a supe’s feathers is a good idea, but the expression on bitch's face is worth it. You feel, for a fleeting moment, power and control flooding through your psyche, and you savour the vigourous sensation.

Countess seethes at you, then she marches in your direction.

You cower in your place, but you don't run.

“That’s enough!” Edgar's voice hauls her in her tracks.

She stops and glares at him, “You want her to take my place? Fine!” Her voice is filled with poison, “Don��t crawl back to me, begging me to keep him in place.”

With that she left.

And your sudden audacity wanes slowly away.

You look at Edgar, and you don't like the way his lips curl up one bit.

Turns out Edgar had a lot up on his sleeves for the two of you. And you guessed right. You didn't like it.

However, for the past few days you've been true to your words, playing your part perfectly as you should as Soldier Boy's new girlfriend.

You two are eyed everywhere together. On television, on the news, they all talk about Soldier Boy's new human girlfriend.

In other circumstances, you'd take this to heart and revel in the attention and the lights. Frankly, you do to a certain degree despite everything that has happened. Perhaps you are actually happy without Jack in the picture. But what dread you the truth you've been avoiding all those days. You are happy with Ben.

Despite Ben's faults and bad temper, he's been actually nice to you since that day albeit you expected the opposite. For some reason — that's baffling you, he's gentle and tender with you. You can even sense sweet affection underneath his harsh facade.

The truth appals you. You're falling deeper for your brother's murderer.

Ben keeps you under his eyes all the time. On and off set. In his shootings and breaks. He can't afford losing you now he practically owns you.

Ever since that day, you provoked something foreign in his soul. Your tears and vulnerability alerted protective instincts over you. He doesn't know how to explain it… but, the only thing he knows is that he'd kill anyone if they hurt you.

What is this you ignited within him? He's not good at those. Sentiments. Love? He scoffs, he never knew what love is. Maybe what's fucking his system up is? He doesn't know. Again, he sucks at this.

But he knows this, if that motherfucker even thought to get near you again, he'd fucking rip him apart.

Now, however, he's relishing in the moment of the flashes around you both, snapping pictures of you together on a red carpet. He gazes down at you, and his expression softens.

You muster a well-feigned smile as cameras taking pictures of you with Ben. Arm looped through his, you wave at the applauding audience behind the fence.

“Soldier Boy, this way!”

“For how long have you two been dating?”

“Is Crimson Countess still in the picture?!”

“(Y/N), what is it like to be Soldier Boy’s girl as an ordinary woman?”

And it goes on and on.

Unlike you, Ben seems to be used to the attention of the crowd. He revels in it, given how poised and well-adjusted to situations like that. You on the other hand, never had an audience as myriad as this one before. Ever since Vought dropped the song, you've been swarmed by scoops and reporters. Vought — at Soldier Boy’s order — hired two bodyguards to maintain your safety from any overly zealous new fan when you leave the tower.

In fact, you haven't left it ever since they kicked Jack's ass out. You spend your days in the tower as if it's your hermitage of abstinence. Life with Soldier Boy is anything but abstinent, though.

Even though he owns you as he claims, he never lays a finger on you. Of course, you sleep in his bed, but to your stupor, Soldier Boy hasn't solicited anything physical from you. He rather scoops you up in his arms from behind, snuggling his face into your neck. You've grown big on the intimate proximity you two share. It baffles you. He made it clear that you were his property, yet he hasn't asked you anything physical ever since.

Now, is the closest you've ever had with him since Herogasm. His arm wrapped around your waist as he flaunts you off to the press.

Tonight is a charity ball for Vought, and they decided it was a good idea to put you on show for the keen fans. Ben reluctantly agreed.

“How is it being Soldier Boy's new girl?” One of the reporters shouts.

You gaze up at Ben, his face is concealed by his mask. He's attending the party with his supe gear. Your eyes fall upon the reporter then at Ben again. A small grin forming on your lips.

They want a show? Let's give them one.

Your lips are on his.

The crowd roars in applause.

When you pull away, your eyes are half-lidded, staring straight at his.

Then he smirked, whispering in your ears, “Good girl.”

And that makes you shiver. The rasp in his voice sends small shocks of pleasure down your spine.

Ben grins at your reaction, pecking your lips again. The audience blare again in acclamation. You grin back.

Then you saunter into the hotel hall where the ball takes place. Ben's arm doesn't leave your waist as he leads you in. Despite the leering eyes looking in your way, you feel protected by Ben.

You spend most of the time at Ben's side, men and women swarm up to him, each racing to kiss his ass better than the other. Although you find it ridiculous, you maintain a polite prestige.

Ben grins at you, he's proud of you. You're handling those cocksuckers like a champ. You know when to speak and when you let out a titter, mostly at some dull joke of those men. On the other hand, he can't stand the way they're ogling you like you're a bag of flesh to prey on. He grows indignant by each passing moment, his arm pulls you closer to his body.

Ben notices they're starting to wear you out, so he decides to let you off the hook, “Could you fetch me a drink, darlin’?” He flashes you one of his giddy grins.

“Sure,” You grin back, “Bourbon with rocks?”

“Atta girl.” He subtly winks at you, making you blush.

Ben's eyes follow your back as you meander to the large bar.

His head turns back to the men around him.

“Stan was right,” One of them piped up, looking at you from his spot. Ben doesn't like how the man's eyes follow your figure with lust swirling in them. “She does fit better as your arm candy than Countess.”

Ben's jaws grate. You're nothing like that bitch. You're truly his, his pretty little treasure.

He glares at the man, his name is Robert or something… he doesn't give enough shit to remember those men's names. Because they don't matter. None of them does. But he has to keep his cool, and conceal the burning urge to gouge each one's eyes out for staring at you. He mustn't show any sign of vulnerability. Not in front of those douchebags, not in front of anybody.

But the man keeps on pushing his buttons as he says, “Legend claims that you intend to keep this one all yours, is that true?”

Rage boils inside of his body. The fucking audacity. Doesn't this man value his life? Because if he utters another word about you, Ben is going to lose it and bashes the man's head into the wall with no ounce of regret.

Ben's eyes narrow behind the mask of his helmet, then forces a grin, “Damn right he is,” He drawls, patting the man's back. He mustn't show them any weakness, because if he does, they'll be waiting to feast on him like vultures do a cadaver. Instead, Ben opts to another option. “What can I say? I'm a bit of greedy man when it comes to such a catch like her.”

He hopes the scalding glare in his eyes conveys the message.

At the other side of the hall, you're waiting for your drinks at the bar table. Sitting on the stool, you fiddle with your thumbs, until you feel someone accost you from your side. You look up and see a woman who's smiling at you.

“Hi, I'm Lana,” She says, extending her hand.

“Hi,” You say, your eyes momentarily flit at Ben who's across the hall then back at her.

Lana orders a drink and makes herself comfortable on the stool adjacent to yours.

“Here you go, ma'am,” The bartender places your drinks in front of you.

“Excuse me,” You tell Lana as you lift the martini glasses up as you're ready to get back to Ben.

“It’s nice, isn't it?” Lana tilts her head to look at you, “Being the sweetheart of America's sweetheart.” You stop in your tracks and turn to her.

“Can’t say it's not…” You answer.

Lana scoffs, “Are you aware of the man under that mask, Miss?”

Your brows furrow, you don't like the tone she's speaking with.

Lana gives her surroundings a quick scan as she leans closer to you, “A piece of advice… from a woman to woman—”

You cut her off, “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

“I’m Lana Miller of Daily Supes, and I think you can—”

Your eyebrow twitches in indignation, “How did you get in here?”

“That doesn't matter,” She replies, “What matters is that your boyfriend is responsible for carelessly murdering hundreds of people under the term “accidental casualties”...”

You feel as if an arrow of fire sears through your chest.

“You and I can hold him accountable for his crime—”

“Security!” You screech with a high-pitched voice.

The woman's eyes widen as she sees three guards manueaver their way towards her. She draws a card from her bag and swiftly puts it in your hand, “In case you change your mind.”

Then she sets off. However, the trained guards capture her and see her out of the building.

“Who the fuck was that?” You flinch a bit at Ben's voice coming from behind you.

“A nobody…” You say, balling the card up in your fist.

When you both retire back to Ben's quarters, you both are unhinged. Each for a different reason. Ben is set to prove to those pigs, and himself, that you're only his. And you want to forget about everything by getting intoxicated in sex.

Tonight was rough on you and him. You're still not accustomed to the intense attention, and neither is he to care about someone so… immensely. However, you both did your parts after Edgar had a small welcome speech dedicated to you, the new couple at the podium.

You get each other’s clothes off, and your lips are chasing for more and more kisses.

Once you and Ben are nude, he lifts you up only to throw you into the bed and crawling up your body. Panting softly, you look up at him with half-lidded eyes. There's something feracious in his green eyes.

“Mine…” He seethes, lips pressing to your neck, then trailing down the column of your throat.

You moan as he bites.

He pulls away slightly to admire the hickey he left on you.

“Say it…” He demands.

You grin up at him, “Make me.”

Ben lets out a deep grunt, “Say it, woman!”

You can't help but giggle, how can you not, when you keep the strongest man alive on edge.

“You think this is funny?” His hand reaches the back of your head, tugging your hair roughly.

You moan, hissing at him, “What if I do?”

“So you like it?” His voice is aggressive, “Getting eye-fucked by every man sees you?”

You grit your teeth, your eyebrows arching in defiant, “Isn’t that my new job?”

“Oh, no no,” He growls, “You got it all wrong… sweetheart.” You can feel his cock hard against your belly.

“Your new job is to serve me… obey me… be the good slut you are to me, and only me.”

You feel the tip of your stomach roil, and it bolts straight to your throbbing core.

“Then claim me…” You challenge, “Make me yours again…”

And he does.

Needless to say, you wake up with a sore body the next day. Seems like Ben doesn't take it too kindly when he has his buttons pushed on. Yet, you couldn't resist the temptation. You savour his aggressive passion, even if it hurts you a bit. It's worth it. He makes you feel wanted, protected, and appreciated. And even, dare you say, loved.

“Men like him do not love.”

Here it is again, the voice of consciousness reminding you of the ugly truth. You're in love with your brother's murderer.

The warmth of his chest shrouds you from behind. You shift a bit and snuggle up to his hold, resting your head on his chest. His hand strokes your hair, his chin is on your head.

You smile in complacency.

Unlike you, Ben hasn't slept a wink. After you hit the sack in his arms, his eyes were wide awake, his mind thinking about you.

You're making him weak. He hates being weak. Caring for someone makes one vulnerable, and he can't afford it. He wouldn't have it said that a woman turned Soldier Boy into a pussy.

You open your eyes when you sense him moving away from your hold. He sits up, back to you. You frown, touching his back, but one thing you're sure about is the tangible shift of his aura.

Ben glances at you over his shoulder, “Is it true,?” You blink, then he continues, “What we have?”

You flinch at his question.

“It is to me.” You reply after a pause, “Is it to you?”

He looks away. He refuses to show weakness to anyone, and especially to you.

“I’m a man of my word, and I remember making you a promise.” He answers sharply.

“That doesn't answer my question, Ben.”

“I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it.” He says, still not facing you.

“Do you love me?” You ask, voice wavering with emotions.

You notice how his body startles at your question.

Finally, he turns to face you, “Love is weakness and I'm not weak.”

You feel a painful twang in your chest, tears burn your eyes.

Ben looks away again, shuffling with his clothes, avoiding gazing upon you.

“See you later…” He says, and just like that, he leaves. Only then you let your tears stream down your cheeks.

He doesn't love you.

He's not as weak and pathetic as you are.

That pernicious voice whispers in your ear, somehow, it resembles Jack's.

You wipe your tears away, get dressed, then march out of the tower into outside. You make it to the closest telephone booth. You open up the wrinkled card, and call the number on it.

“Ms. Miller? This is (Y/N) (L/N).” You say, “You and I have work to do.”

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Faceless Fixation: Cat-FISHER [19]

A/N: in honor of 50k on Wattpad, LET'S GET ITTTTTT!!!!

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VIOLETVIOLENCE: it's really pathetic that i have to pull you aside like a child to tell you to tone down your shit.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: grow up.

SALLYFʌCɜ: grow up? look who's talking. might i remind you of a verbatim quote by yours truly... "lint licking, cunt flap, cum infested puss bubble of a fucklet"

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i give back what i receive. you can dish but you can't take?

SALLYFʌCɜ: i can take twice as much as i dish.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i'm so sure that you can. fuck off, sal. quit being an asshat.

SALLYFʌCɜ: so now it's asshat? what happened to llcfcipbf? you're losing your creativity. do better, your fall from grace is disappointing even to me

VIOLETVIOLENCE: fuck you.

SALLYFʌCɜ: i'm sure you want to

He's real fucking cheeky. Excited, if you will. What's gotten into him?

Three days ago, while purposefully and pleasurably butchering Sal's character in Dead By Daylight, if anyone would have told me that the bane of my miserable existence and I would have a personal chat box open— I'd have laughed in your face. I'd have gone full Edgar Allan Poe. You would be in a Speed Bump Grave™️. I'd hear your phantom heart beat under my floor boards.

And now, here I am, simultaneously working through the worst shift of the week and having to bitch at Sally Face Fisher via discord DM's.

I don't know what I've done. Maybe it's just my existence, I'm not sure, but he's targeting me. It's horrifically bad. Every message from him, even if he's in the middle of conversing with one of the other of The Faces, has something about me included. And it is always shitty.

I'm not scared of him, how could I ever be? So I opted (more like I was seconds away from punching his scrotum through my phone screen) to reach out to him personally and nicely ask him to stop... okay so that's obviously a lie but I had to threaten and insult him back. It was the only way I'd feel better.

But now I'm stuck with this loaded last message from him and I have no idea how to continue. Because it's a repeat. A repeat of that fated Discord call that threw my entire existence askew for a week. Or four. Maybe I'm still askew.

His necklace isn't under a shoe in the farthest corner of my room for no reason, after all.

Today was supposed to be simple. Not easy because working at the diner is never easy, but simple. Simple fucking worked. And now I have this conversation with Sally hanging over my head when I was actually looking forward to what's meant to come after I finish my shift.

I brought my mask with me today. My plan is to immediately go back to that mask store after my shift and convince the sweet woman who helped me to sign her work, give me her name, a business card— literally anything so I can tell the world who gave me my start. But now I'm anxious enough to plead not guilty by reason of insanity due to not-so negligent or accidental arson. And on top of that, I'm starting to map out an intricately laid out plan for Sal's Speed Bump Grave™️. Today's ordeals have taken my mind by storm and I'm about to bring everyone down with me in this descent toward madness.

I'm just angry. And bothered. And low key wanting to message Sal back with, "Yea, I am. What are you gonna do about it?" But I must stay strong. I must soldier on. I know the repercussions, I've tasted them for myself— felt them burn my lungs to a crisp. I went through what felt like decades of chain smoking in just mere seconds.

And it's all because of—

A chime rings. A chime that came from my phone. It echoes through the diner's break room, startling me so hard that I nearly leap out of my chair. It's like waking up from a dream where you suddenly start falling.

What was that? What just popped up in my notifications?

Unknown: are you a poe fan, by chance?

My kingdom. My entire kingdom for a chance to start making a Speed Bump Grave™️. For myself? For Sal? For the inexplicable human race? I don't even know anymore.

I thought he'd given up on Lexi. So what the hell is this? Why now? Why today? Why right after he finished— flirting? Baiting?— me.

My mind goes blank. Maybe... maybe he's onto me. Maybe he knows. That I'm Lexi. And now he's finally decided to enact his revenge. On today of all days, when I feel so sick with anxiety and paranoia that I could throw up every square inch of my bowels. My feminine rage is so ragey that I wouldn't be shocked if I sprouted a pair of testicles just so I'd have an excuse for whatever bruised masculinity I'm experiencing right now. Sal must be projecting on me all the way from Nockfell.

Never in my entire life have I felt so hopeless, so cornered. Every time I feel this way, I think it can't possibly get any worse.

And yet.

Me: umm, can't say that i am! don't know much about him.. but how are you, sally!

I don't know what's possessed me. In a normal world, I would have blocked him by now. Or better yet, if I wasn't so disgustingly deplorable and had a damn backbone, I'd have texted him a picture of myself and said "Haha, gotcha bitch!"

The sad truth in this way-too-real life scenario is that I don't have a backbone. And I'm too far gone to go back. I can't revert. There's a part of me that still holds onto my first live interaction with Sal. I just can't get the memory of him— smooth, gentle, kind, and likable— out of my head. No matter how hard I try.

One thing I can be proud of is the amount of petty packed into the fact that I never saved his number in my phone.

Unknown: good. perfect, actually. i brought some poe with me today, a story i think you might like

Some kind of doom-ish feeling washes over me. Like a storm cloud forming above my head. Poison seeping into my pores, infesting my blood. I don't like the way he said that. I don't like it at all. It feels a lot like the time some kid threw up all over me in second grade.

I'll never forget the sickening chill that spread through my body as soon as I realized what happened to me in the middle of educational centers in Nockfell Elementary. This situation feels threateningly similar.

Me: oh cool! so i guess you'll be having a chill reading day? wish it was me :,)

Unknown: not quite. but hey, are you working today?

That storm morphs into a hurricane. And there's twin tornadoes in the background, growing closer and closer to make a torrid, lethal combination. I have to take this in stride. Be smart, y/n. Whatever hell may come, handle it accordingly and do not make mistakes.

Me: ah, no! out of town to visit family :) really, crappy, awkward family get together... yikes...

He'll totally buy that right? I didn't overdo it. It was perfect. Overdoing it would have been an entire paragraph about how much I hate my mom. This is good, this is fine. I'm totally not breaking out into a cold sweat with clammy palms to match.

Oh, God. What if he sent someone to spy on Lexi? What if he hired some murderer off the dark web to take care of me and clean up the mess? I wouldn't put it past him. And this scenario isn't even worst case!

Worst case... I don't even want to think about it. I can't.

Unknown: damn, lex... on the day that i'm finally back in la and you're out of town? :(

Oh, thank God I'm a paranoid chicken shit.

Then again, fuck the fuck off. It's worst case scenario, the thing that I didn't even want to think about. The thing I wouldn't allow to cross my mind.

What do I do. What do I do? I leave work— that's the smartest decision. Naturally, this is the place he once went to and, out of boyish fantasies, he'll probably come back here with some expectation that Lexi will miraculously pop up despite her being in like... Iceland or something, whatever it is I manage to come up with in my next text to him. Which—

Unknown: i'm at the diner rn. was hoping we'd get to hang out this time. when do you get home?

Oh, no.

It's a fucking disaster on top of twenty other disasters. This is what a pregnancy scare must feel like. This must be the equivalent to walking into a room full of snotty, sick toddlers. This is dropping an uncut birthday cake.

I think I'm gonna puke.

I look up from my phone and take in the empty break room surrounding me. The off-white, paint-chipping walls are closing in. I have no escape— this is prison. Trapped in my mind's clawed vices with no way out. Except, my mind's fears have transcended into reality. My worst fear has come true and I had no time to prepare for it. The time is nigh. Ruin is, unfortunately, now.

Think, y/n. It's not so bad. I can just leave through the back door and tell my boss I'm sick again. The door is literally to my left.

But to get back to my apartment, I have to cross in front of the diner that's full of windows. Sal is here, meaning he's paying attention to everything in hopes of finding me... even though I told him I'm not here.I just know he's that kind of romantic, if he even qualifies as such.

He'd spot me in a heartbeat and that can't happen because maybe Vi's mask concealed Lexi who was hidden beneath, but he's about damn near fucked Vi. He knows her body better than she does herself— than I do. Fuck, I have so many different personas I can't even remember that they're all me.

Clusterfuck. That's what this is. A massive clusterfuck, all of my doing.

I'm going to have to bite the bullet. That's my only option. And by bite the bullet, I'm going to fight tooth and nail to keep this bit going. I should just admit the truth, but I'm not humble enough for that, apparently.

My chest begins to ache. It's a slow-to-develop pain that only catches my attention when it hurts a little too much. And then the shallow, short breaths follow. And then the phantom feeling of something lodged in my throat, blocking my airways and filling me with dread.

This is a panic attack, one that is long overdue. One that still can't breach the surface quite yet. I need to make sure I'm home free first— I can weep and be dismayed later. Because the harsh truth is, yes this fucking sucks, but it's not going to kill me. It's just hard for me and my body to truly get a grasp on that.

I swallow down the anxiety that's billowing in my body like linens ominously drying outside a house in the middle of nowhere. I take a couple deep breaths, calming the doubt and fear raging within. My limbs shake a little less, my breathing is better controlled, and my chest doesn't hurt half as much. The pain is still there, but this is bearable. I can do this.

I rifle through my cubby which doesn't give me much to work with. I don't have a change of clothes. I have nothing to hide me, not even a hoodie.

"You... good, y/n?"

I whirl around, hope scraping at the insides of my cranium. Fuck yes. Best lobotomy ever.

I could really cry right now because this is a clear sign that I'm not as alone as I think. Even if it feels like I am, even if my dear coworker Ophelia can't really help me out all that much, she can definitely help me in some way.

I don't have to girl boss everything on my own.

"Lia," I start with, breathless as I practically teleport over to her with the quickness of my panicked steps. "Do you have something I can change into? I can't explain right now but... I would really appreciate your help."

Her big doe eyes take me in curiously, one of her perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question. She bats her long lashes, seemingly processing what I've asked of her before giving me an answer.

"Um, I was planning on going out after my shift tonight? Would a dress work?" She grimaces a bit, probably worried that she won't be able to help me out because Ophelia is just like that.

"That would work fine!" I say excitedly, but think better of it, my hopes crumbling a bit. "But I don't want to take your outfit for the night. I can probably come up with something else."

Lia rolls her eyes lightheartedly, placing a hand on my shoulder. I follow the action, noting her long and sharp blood red nails. I gulp, looking back into her pretty ebony eyes. "Y/n, take what you need. You know Mike can drive me back home to get another outfit! We don't live too far away, and we don't need to be in Anaheim until 9 anyway. Do what you need to do-- you know I'm cheering for you, girl."

I grab onto her hand and hold back the intense admiration infecting my soul. I'm giving Ophelia the most visceral care bear stare I can possibly muster up and she notices, giving me a cute little upside down smile.

"You are an angel," I whisper, "And your future husband is too. Power couple of the heavens, really."

Lia giggles and bends her head down, forcing her pin straight black hair to fall into her face, thus accentuating the really eye-catching red money pieces that match her red nails. I aspire to be this woman. "It's not that serious, Ducks," she says, using my dads nickname for me that she overheard a couple months ago. She thought it was precious, so it stuck. "Let's go get you changed, 'kay?"

Change, I do. But I see where she was concerned about me wearing it too. It's for clubbing, cock-tailing, socializing for sure, but... I can make it work. I've got this. It'll be fine. Thank God I am an avid Doc Martens-wearer. Doc's go with absolutely anything.

Lia has taste too, it's a short, little red dress with spaghetti straps that flares out at the ends. It shows a lot of leg, but not much of anything else. I can't imagine how amazing she must look in this.

"You're super sure that you're okay wearing this?" Lia asks, looking over me. "It looks great on you, I'm inclined to tell you to keep it, honestly."

I scrunch up my face. "No, I'm giving it back to you tomorrow," I laugh gently, using my phone camera to try and get an idea of how I look. I can't see much, which is kind of a blessing because I might hate it and be too afraid to brave LA if I end up not liking it.

"I won't argue with you," Lia sighs, patting my back in a reassuring way. "So do you want to talk about what's going on?"

"Um," I murmur, a shiver running down my spine. I almost forgot why I'm having to do this. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been five minutes at most. "It's very hard to explain, but I might have to get you or Mike involved, whoever's hosting today." I can't help but grimace as the words leave me, but it's the unfortunate truth that I'll have to talk to one or both of them. I'm ever so slowly hashing out a plan in my head.

Sal is undoubtedly going to ask about Lexi, and what the hell am I supposed to do whenever someone goes, "Lexi? No Lexi has ever worked here." So I have to bite the bullet, again, and stick around to at least inform Mike or Lia about that part of my major, gargantuan fuck up. That also means there's a good chance that Sal will see me, but he'll likely ignore my presence, and then I can slip away quickly.

"Mike is up front and hosting today," Lia says, frowning at me. She's so pretty, like if Marilyn Monroe was alternative. Goth mommy and whatever. No shame on my part.

The chef's booming voice carries into the break room, Lia's name floating along with it. She winces at the sound, flinching in surprise. She gives me a pitiful look, tilting her head almost as if to apologize for having to do her job. Poor little love, she is.

"Will you be able to talk with Mike?" She asks me, heading for the door.

I nod hesitantly. "Yea, I'll get to him. Thank you so much for all your help, Lia. I really appreciate you." I send her my most genuine smile, one that she returns.

"Anytime, y/n! You look beautiful, by the way. Go knock 'em dead, literally or figuratively!"

And she's gone, but she hyped me up in the gentlest way possible. Bless her dark, lovable heart.

I take a breath-- a deep, fortifying, 'ohfuckohfuck' breath that does nothing to calm my soul, but I try to trick myself into believing that it worked... at least somewhat. Then I move over to my work cubby (because we're all still in primary school according to my boss) and grab my old backpack that I bring every day. It's raunchy at best and holding on by a thread. I kept it from my high school days. It's a plain black Jansport with coffee stains on the bottom and questionable white splats that are front and center for everyone to see. I'm pretty sure it's just crusty white paint that I never bothered to peel off, but I won't correct anyone if they guess something else. What's the fun in that, right?

I open the zippers and dig in, working past a random beanie from winter, pads and tampons, and a makeup bag. All the way at the bottom, buried under my other things for protection, is my mask. I put it on then look down at myself one last time.

The flashy red of the dress I'm wearing does not match the deep violet of my mask but not everything can go right, so I'll take my little loss. Things could be worse-- oh wait, they are. Sal Fisher is outside this room. Whoops, forgot things were already devastatingly bad.

I run my fingers over the forehead of my mask, feeling that ache creep into my chest again. I wish things weren't going this way. I wish I was brave enough to go outside and just keep working. Because I'm undoubtedly going to lose my job after today. I'm backing myself into a corner, even risking my finances because of this guy that I'm too scared to face as my real self. I've reached peak pathetic.

My dad must be disappointed to have such an incompetent daughter. No wonder my mother and I don't speak anymore.

I swallow past the uncertainty, the guilt, and the unadulterated fear gnawing at my soul. Then I follow through with my plan by throwing my backpack onto my shoulder and pushing the back door open despite knowing that this is not worth it. It's not worth it at all.

I circle around the outside of the diner, heart rumbling like an earthquake as the putrid scent of garbage wafts into my nose from the dumpster I'm currently passing in front of. The sounds of cars honking, people laughing and chatting idly.

Los Angeles is the people's place. It hosts all necessary components of life, some more than others. Socialization, food. It's a dopamine powerhouse. But when it's me, when I've been living here for over a year and seeing the same things every single day, it's stripped me of all my feel-good chemicals. Especially right now when LA is only bringing me problems and trouble (Sal Fisher).

This doesn't feel real. I can't believe I'm doing this to myself. I can't quite wrap the fact around my head, that I'm about to be in Sal's general vicinity yet again. I thought I had time.

I turn the corner, coming out onto the sidewalk in front of the diner. I don't stop in my stride, eyeing my apartment building that isn't very far from me. A five minute walk. I'm almost home. Almost free. I just have to get inside the diner, unfortunately inform Mike of the tea, and hopefully dodge Sal. So long as I keep my eyes on the host table, I may not even have to see him. I might just be psyching myself out. Everything's going to be just fine!

My heart is in my throat, my limbs jittering nervously as I push the glass door open and look forward, noting the short line of people waiting for seats. Sal isn't one of them, so I assume he's been seated already.

I walk past the people in line, getting a few looks from them. That'd be the mask's fault.

Mike's looking down at his seating chart on the host table, most likely mapping out where someone could go whenever I stop in front of him, placing a hand on the table to discreetly get his attention.

He looks startled for a moment before tilting his head up, brows scrunched together as if to say 'The audacity!' but then he sees me and his eyes widen a bit. And then I'm not sure what his next expression says.

"What the--" he chokes out, "Shit! It's you? Hold on-- wait-- mind-fuck--"

I lift a finger to my lips, eyes wide as I hope he takes the note to shut up. Adrenaline is starting to spike in my veins and if he draws anymore attention to us, especially since my mask is already drawing enough, I'm going to piss myself right here. And sue him for public embarrassment, or whatever that thing is. Public defecation? No, that's public defamation... anyway.

Michael's mouth snaps closed, but he keeps watching me. I watch him. We just watch each other as I forget absolutely everything I had planned.

I swallow, blinking at my friend and coworker. "Mike," I say quietly. He flinches at the sound of his name. "I need you to do something for me and I am sincerely sorry about this but..."

"Yea, Yea, y/n-- um, what should I call you...?" He cuts himself off viciously, slapping a hand over his mouth. At least he cares.

I lean my forearms across the table, settling my weight against the front to relax myself at least a little bit. I'm so tense. I feel eyes on me. I need to get out of here.

"Don't call me that," I say lightheartedly, puffing out a breath. "Just call me Vi. For now." I lick my dry lips. Mike of all people finding out about my identity as VioletViolence is the very least of my worries. "There's a guy in here. He has blue hair, can't miss him. I'm sure you already know who he is. He's looking for a girl named Lexi and he'll probably ask his waiter about her. Just say that Lexi isn't here today, you don't have to answer anything else about her."

"I'm guessing... you're Lexi?" He winces, leaning forward a bit.

"Wow," I say sarcastically. "How did you figure that out?" I send him a little smile then focus on the task at hand yet again. "Anyway, I need you to be his waiter. Please. I'll take your entire shift on Friday. I will do anything." I tilt my head down, peering up at him through my lashes in an attempt to portray how badly I need this.

Mike's brows bunch together again and he mutters, "Yea, of course. Whatever you need. But it's-- he came in with the rest of The Faces. Do you want me to... entertain them too? Do they know about Lexi?"

The world stops turning. Everything pauses, no one's moving anymore and I feel like I'm going to vomit with fear, burst with excitement, and pass out right here from exhaustion. The plan I had is ruined, and I couldn't be more equally devastated and exhilarated about it. Ash is here. Larry's here, Todd too. What the hell is going on?

I blink, the action bringing me back to the present.

"Hey, is that Lia's dress--"

"The Faces are here?" I cut him off, holding a hand out in pause, trying to drill this information into my head. Trying to make it real so I can come up with a new plan.

Michael watches me like I'm stupid, a rueful expression on his boyish face. "Yes. I already said that they're here. Why are you wearing my girlfriend's dress?"

"Because we're fucking on the side and she came all over my work outfit." I watch as he makes his little offended face, and my tongue prods at my cheek as instant regret slaps me in the face. He's trying to help me, I shouldn't be giving him this attitude. "Sorry," I admit. "You know that's not true. I'm just-- I'm on edge."

"That's okay," he says hesitantly. "You know I'm going to get you back for that, anyway."

I pinch my lips together, accepting yet another minor defeat. "Fair." I shrug. "I was going to go back home and leave you to the wolves but... I'd rather risk myself. Ash is my best friend. You won't have to handle them alone now, so yay!" I give him a cheerful grin that I'm really not feeling. I even throw in jazz hands.

Michael runs his tongue over the surface of his teeth, clearly not looking forward to the fiasco I've dragged him into. "Alright," he settles on, sighing as he looks down at his feet while grabbing another menu. "Let's see how you manage to back yourself further into whatever shitty corner you've created. I'm eager."

"I'm sure," I grind out, knocking down all the fear that overtook me on my way here and replacing it with impenetrable, desperate yearning to find my friends. I finally cast my gaze around the diner, quickly zeroing in on the one head of blue hair in this entire building. They're seated at a booth all the way at the back of the restaurant and next to the bar, the one place that's away from most prying eyes. A request of theirs, I'm sure.

But my next question, now that I know everyone's here, what the hell are The Faces doing in Los Angeles? And why wasn't I told?

Ash didn't say a word to me. Do they not want me around? Maybe they don't like me as much as I thought they did. Maybe Ash would rather hang around with other friends than me. And that would make sense because we never see each other, besides Vegas, of course. But just thinking about it makes pain erupt throughout my entire body, a pang in my heart. Especially while watching the back of Ash's head tip down while Larry laughs in front of her. Sal and Larry, I can see them, but Todd and Ash are facing away from me.

Another deep breath.

"I'm going to head over there," I tell Michael, looking over to him again. He's watching me closely, his expression of pity mimicking Lia's from earlier. The sight makes me a little sick.

"Alright," he says gently. "I'm going to be there to take orders soon. I hope everything goes well. Don't be nervous."

I huff out a humorless laugh. "Are you and Ophelia psychic or something? Or is my face just that readable?"

He shrugs, grinning slightly. "I can't see your face, so I guess we're psychic. I'll be in your dreams tonight."

That makes me laugh. It wasn't forced or fake, it was genuine and I need that right now. I think Mike knows that too.

I start taking quick steps over to where The Faces are, nerves slapping at my insides to make me turn around and forget that I ever saw them. I'm attacking myself with my own mind, and my mind is attacking my body in turn. Mental illness is crazy, right? Death by anxiety and whatnot.

But, you know, I'm already here. My job is in purgatory, I'm five steps away from them and Larry has noticed my movement, his head twisting toward me to see who's growing near.

Poor Larry. When he sees me walking toward them, he shakes his head and rubs his eyes like he doesn't believe what he's seeing. He looks at me again, and that's when his eyes start to widen, when his jaw drops. And he doesn't say word, that open mouth just turns into the brightest smile I think I've ever seen.

Seeing his excitement makes my insides flutter about and I feel a little better about actually going over to them. Imagine I get there and they shoo me away? But I can tell that Larry won't. That look on his face screams barely held back hugs.

I gulp, trying to ignore my major cotton mouth. I need water. Or tequila. Something.

I also don't give my brain even a second to psych myself out. When I reach the table, I simply plop myself down beside Ash and act like it's a normal, every day thing for me to do.

All heads turn to me (Larry's never turned away from me to begin with) and then I hear a quiet, uttered, "Fuck" followed by incessant, eardrum bursting squealing in my ear.

Arms. A lot of arms. A ton of squeezing. Lots of kisses all over my mask and face. And all the love makes me think that my sweet Ash had a good reason for not informing me of her visit.

I struggle, but I throw my arms around Ash too, squeezing every little inch of her that I can get. Her sweet, coconut and strawberry scent overwhelms me and I feel so at peace. So calm. Home. Back in Nockfell. Comfortable.

Her hair is in my face and I know she's crying because my bare shoulders are wet, thanks spaghetti strap dress. I don't care though because I'm seeing Ash again much sooner than I imagined I would. I thought it would take us years to have some time together like we did in Las Vegas. And Ash is so emotional, I feel like she's being ripped apart by the sight of me alone-- that's both adrenaline-inducing and terrifying.

This is a nightmare, but a dream come true at the same time. I'm so glad that I was paranoid enough to force myself to tell Mike about the Lexi situation. Things couldn't be any better.

"Ash, fucking let go, man. It's my turn." Larry's voice is right next to me, and then another pair of hands that envelop my waist whole. I'm then yanked out of my best friends arms and spun around to face Larry who hugs me so tight that I have to stand on my tiptoes.

I shut my eyes, grinning as I reach my arms up his back, hugging him the best way I can as he nuzzles his face against my mask. The smell of cigarette smoke and pine trees lingers on his clothes, yet again overwhelming me with familiarity. The smoke is a more recent addition, but he's always had a unique scent to him that's always reminded me of Christmas in a way.

The scruff on his cheeks scratches against my jaw, his skin is warm, his grip tight. I really miss home... and LA is not home. Home is back with all of my friends. I don't want to stay here anymore. I don't want to be where they aren't.

Larry takes a deep breath into my shoulder, likely bathing in my comfort just like I did with him. Then he backs up, holding me at arms length and I look up with tears welling in my eyes no matter how much I wish they weren't there. I hate crying, especially in front of other people, but I'm just so happy. It's like the anxiety I felt while walking over here never existed.

"What the hell are you doing here, Vi!?" Larry exclaims, dragging his hands up my arms to cup my face in his large palms. "I thought you lived in Connecticut?"

I place my hand on top of his, a spark of what I thought was fantastical anxiety rushing through me at the instant fuck up I've just made. Again. Crap. I forgot that Ash told them I live in Connecticut...

"Uh," Ash voices beside us, her tone taking the form of the smartest kid in class who's about to correct a mistake. Todd-coded. "I said she's from Connecticut, not that she still lives there." Good save, Ash. "Word choice is important, Lar! Pay attention!"

Larry's eyes swing between Ash and I before settling on me, stars dancing in his irises. "Wait, so do you live in LA, then?"

I can't help the excited little grin that's slowly climbing onto my face. It's Larry's turn to squeal as he suddenly realizes.

I look back over to Ash, catching Sal's gaze momentarily before I look over at Todd to wave. He waves back at me, a soft and pleased smile on his thin lips.

"So," I say, letting go of Larry whenever he backs away from me. I sit beside Ash again, leaning against her side as she throws an arm around my shoulders. "Why are you guys here?"

Ash hisses, frowning suddenly. I frown back, wary of her reaction. "Crap!" she exclaims, rolling her eyes. "Well, I was going to surprise you and the guys. But I guess you ended up surprising us instead..."

"Oh, so it's not just y/n that we're visiting while we're here? You knew Vi would be here too?" Todd asks, chewing on his bottom lip contemplatively.

Another spark of nervousness. They're here for... fuck, all three sides of me are expected in this situation. This... maybe was not really worth it. I'm erasing all the sides of my corner. Everything's starting to get really small and very tight.

Ash side-eyes me, a discreet little look before she answers Todd. "Yea, but I'm not quite sure where she is in LA. I'm going to have to call her later to get some updates on her whereabouts."

"I could just call her now. I'm super excited to see her, I'm sure she'd love to meet Vi too-- oh, and to tell her why we're here!" Larry says, excitement making him shimmy around in his seat as he pulls out his phone.

My body reacts instantly, tensing up like a cat in shock. Ash jumps too, nearly leaping over the table to stop Larry. "No! She's working!" She yells. It's so loud that you'd think she's trying to flip Larry's phone away from him with sound waves alone. True Stranger Things style.

"Oh...kay..." Larry trails off, pulling his phone closer to him so that Ash can't reach. "It's not that serious. I'll call her later, then. What's your deal?"

I swallow. Her reaction was really too much, but at least she's trying to cover for me. I would've sat there and let Larry call while my phone went off in my pocket.

Ash clears her throat, sitting back now that she threw the scenario into the trash. It was rocky, but her deflection was successful. "I know, just don't bother my girl while she's making money," she says matter-of-factly, holding her head high.

I note the way Sal shakes his head across the table. I haven't acknowledged his presence, nor has he acknowledged mine. It's awkward for the most part, but I think that awkwardness is only stemming from me. He seems to be perfectly in control with his short sleeved, black Iron Maiden shirt that shows off his tatted arms. I guess the LA summer heat was too much for him to wear a hoodie for once.

His electric eyes meet mine, no emotion in the endless depths of his irises. Like he couldn't care less that I'm here, which sounds a lot like him. And still, I fidget in my seat under his gaze. Can't help myself.

The edges of his dagger tattoo peek out from behind his hair, the shape of his Adam's apple clear due to the sun shining in through the window, casting shadows in all the right places. Necklaces are around his neck, some kind of silver chain and and old, really intricate cross necklace hanging right below it. And then his hand comes into view, the one that folded into a fist as a result of my touch just weeks ago in this exact restaurant.

There's something different though as he moves to grab onto the drink in front of him, dragging it closer.

The bottom of his prosthetic lifts as he sips from his straw, but that's when I notice what's different. It's a new tattoo-- Saniderm wrapped around his hand. It looks like... a skeleton hand tattooed onto his own. It's pretty sick and I'm so tired of him having great taste in art. Damn. Now I have a terrible excuse to stare at him some more when I shouldn't look anywhere near him at all.

On the other hand, have I ever mentioned how much of a blessing Michael is?

"Hi, everyone," his cheerful voice effectively distracts me from ogling Sal. I look over to my friend, noting his pink cheeks. Huh. "I'll be taking over as your waiter tonight. Your waitress had to leave," he glances at me as if to tell me that I made a good call by stepping out when I did. That's exactly the moment I realize that we're sitting in my section of the diner. Talk about a close call.

Okay, I should get the hard part over for him right? To thank him. I've got this. "Oh, hey, Mike!" I say, "Long time no see."

Poor Mike looks at me like a deer caught in headlights. "Hey... Vi..." he says quietly. Oh, Michael, please don't crap out on me now... I'm going to have to buy this man a cake for carrying me like this.

I smile at him awkwardly, trying to bypass this horrible excuse of an excuse that he and I are about to do horrible improv for. "So, how's Lexi?" I don't dare look a Sal whenever I say the name, but I do feel a shift in the energy at the table. "It's been weeks since I last saw you guys."

"Lexi doesn't work here anymore," Michael spits out nervously, sweat beginning to build on his forehead. Oh no, don't fucking fumble the bag, Mike!

I give him a look. One that has so many emotions and so many questions, but I just force out a simple, "What?" because what else do I say to that? Things are already beginning to go terribly. But it's okay. I'm a pathological liar at this point, and a catfisher? Maybe? Ha... Cat-FISHER.

I'm going to have a panic attack.

Michael pinches his lips together, red-faced as he glances at Sal. I turn my gaze to Sal too, noticing the way he's eyeing Mike like a hawk.

"Lexi is my girlfriend and she doesn't work here anymore." Michael says, his tone brave and assertive, but his facial expression says an entirely different thing.

Great heavens. Okay, so he's radically screwing everything up but that's okay— I'm a flexible person. He's... doing his best. I can work with this. I hope.

I have this image of him and I duking it out in my head. I have him by the collar, shaking him around like a ragdoll while I scream in his face that he's fucking up the plan. And in my mind he's just taking it because he's playing pure sub right now. I'm not even this submissive-- Michael is straight up breaking the BDSM spectrum.

I shove down my nerves and tilt my head at him. "Okay," I start with, slowly, feeling out what little room I have to work with. "I already knew she was your girlfriend," I say, raising my eyebrows even though he can't see. Saying this feels less incriminating for some reason. But I notice Sal snap his head down to the table. I almost feel bad. "But why doesn't she work here anymore?"

Michael looks off to the side, tapping his fingers against the menus in his arms. "Um, she's... she is..." I narrow my eyes at him. He's not even answering the question. I try to communicate with him through eye contact, bellowing at him to not. Fumble. The. Bag.

He gapes at me like a fish, our intense eye contact freaking him out even more. I sigh to myself. He fumbled whatever bag I'm going on about before he even got to our table.

He finally finds his voice after a second and says, "Lexi is working. At a... sperm... bank."

It takes every little inch of my being not to burst into tears. Holy hell. If anything I'm glad he fucked this up because the sperm bank excuse is hilarious no matter how you look at it. Even better is that it's so ridiculous and random that it's going to distract the entire table from the way he's royally screwing up this conversation.

Ash snorts beside me. Larry chokes on his coke. Todd is silent and so is Sal. Maybe the sperm bank thing will officially scare Sal away from Lexi. Yea-- this could work.

"That's a unique job," I struggle to push out, my voice wavering despite trying to forget what Mike just said. But it's hovering in my mind, like old memes from Vine that still make me cackle to this day. I really wish someone would have caught this entire interaction on video.

Michael glances to Sal again. And that's when I turn to find that the bluenette is glaring at my coworker with his arms crossed over his chest, a dangerous glint in his pretty eyes. Wow. That's a scary look, one that he hasn't even pulled out on me yet.

Mike is gaping again, trying to get words to, you know, word. I try to help him by saying, "I hope she likes it there! That's a big deal." But the words don't register in his mind. I can tell by the look of terror on his face, his gaze still glued to Sally.

My friend takes another second to gather himself, and right as a syllable leaves his lips-- one that he used his one working brain cell to come up with-- Sal interrupts him. He took perfect advantage of Mike's vulnerability.

"I'm not sorry for flirting with your girlfriend."

My eyes squeeze shut as butterflies slap at the lining of my intestines. This is ridiculous and I shouldn't feel flattered. I tilt my head down for a moment, trying to gather my wits. I figured out everything for Michael and I, but I didn't take Sal's response into account. I didn't think he'd have a response to begin with. I never would have thought he'd come up with this either.

"We'll, um," I say hoarsely, clearing my throat to regain my voice, but my heart is flitting about with excitement. I wish Sal never would have spoken. I look up at Mike, sending him a dismissive smile. "We'll order in a little bit. I'm still not sure about what I want. Thanks, Mike."

I've never seen someone scurry away so quickly before in my life.

"Is Lexi the chick you were trying to see over here?" Larry asks as soon as Michael's gone. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, watching as Sal glares at his step-brother. Yikes...

"I'm gonna head to the bathroom," I say, scooting out of the booth before anyone can stop me. I need to not be here right now. Ash is quick to stand up behind me, grabbing onto my hand. I turn, fearful that she's going to stop me, but she just smiles and juts her head forward, signaling me to keep walking.

I hope she doesn't ask me about Lexi. You couldn't even beat this information out of my dead body.

Ash and I take a singular step toward the bathroom, only to get stopped by my least favorite customer. I just want to die at this point. The stress is not worth anything. Not at all.

I've said before that many of the men that come into the diner are assholes of the patriarchy, the ones that tell me to stop talking and make them a sandwich, or comment about women's bodies. The shit that ticks me off beyond belief.

This man in particular smells like mildew and three years of straight sleep and bad breath. He's also not a looker, mind you. And then he's an asshole on top of it? I hate when my boss sends me to his table.

Even worse is watching him eye me after calling out to Ash and I with the words, "How much do you charge?"

My eyes narrow and the boys go quiet behind us. We're close enough for them to hear, especially for Ophelia to hear behind the bar.

She glances up at me, cleaning a glass and frowning.

I look back at the man. I never bothered remembering his name. "Excuse me, sir?" I ask, confused. I don't want to converse with this dickface.

"You're dressed like a whore so you gotta be selling yourself right?" he continues, a humorless chuckle following the grubby words.

I open my mouth then snap it shut, heat taking over my body. I'm embarrassed, really insecure about myself now, and pissed off. He thinks he can just say shit like this to anyone? What a pathetic joke.

Usually I can't do anything about this man since I'm the one serving him, but he doesn't know who I am and I'm not working at the moment. I can reign whatever hell that I want.

But I'm also exceptionally tired. Tired of this horrible job and little pay. Tired of holding up some persona that's already beginning to crash around me. Just tired.

"I'd rather look like a supposed whore than look like I just stepped out of the dumpster, sir. Have a day," I say dismissively. I don't have time for him and I've said my piece. If I go on any further, I'll get kicked out anyway and I've already given my coworkers enough trouble today.

'Have a day' is my favorite thing to say to customers who piss me off because they don't know if I forgot the 'good' or purposefully left it out. It's ominous and vaguely threatening.

Ash and I go to the bathroom and we don't stay there long. Neither of us talk. She just waits for me, like she knew I needed space but that I also needed her companionship. Just a moment away from the mess. Silence. Which is so much more than appreciated, I can't even begin to explain how much I adore my best friend.

She watches me wash my hands through the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest and a content smile on her lips. As we start to walk out, she says, "I'm not sure how long you'll be able to keep up the lie about y/n." and she's right. I'm going to face a dead end soon here. "You're obligated to have a sleepover with me tonight so we can come up with a plan, and so you can answer some major questions I have about you right now. My spidey senses are tingling super hard."

Her hand rubs my back and I nod, smiling thankfully at her. Of course she has questions. My entire presence here is questionable right now.

We resurface next to the bar, but looking up at where our booth is shows that it's empty. I'm about to voice my confusion to Ash, but then I notice Lia running around the bar to get to us.

My eyebrows scrunch together as my coworker stops in front of me, eyes on Ash before they focus on me. She mulls over her thoughts for a moment, gaping just like her boyfriend does. Did the boys do something bad?

"We had to... We kicked Sally Face out," is what she says, shocking both me and Ash.

"What?" Ash asks, startled. "What happened?"

Ophelia blinks at Ash, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "He, uh, he walked up to that... that guy at the bar. Kicked his stool out from underneath him. Then he asked me for a drink. Malibu and pineapple."

Ash sighs and I blink at Lia. I don't even know what to think. Did Sal do that for me? And to ask for my favorite drink on top of that...

No. It's impossible. There's no way he would. He just did it for the sake of feminism. That feminism that is nonexistent when it comes to me. Yea, he definitely didn't do that to avenge me. And he was probably just in the mood for alcohol and pineapple juice right? He could never remember the one drink I ever brought up around him. There's no way.

"Sal doesn't even drink all that much," Ash hisses. "What the hell is he doing?" She bites down on her thumb nail, free hand on her hip.

I swallow down all the emotions building up in me. There are so many that I don't even know how to distinguish a single one right now. This is too much. This entire day is too much.

"Okay," I whisper to myself. "Thanks, Lia," I say gratefully. "And thank Mike for me, too, please. I'm going to get everyone out of here before-- yea." I nod to myself, but it isn't very reassuring.

Lia grabs my hand. "We didn't call the police because that asshole had it coming, but someone else might have. It's better to go now."

I nod again, taking yet another deep breath before guiding Ash to the front doors of the diner. The boys are standing right outside, no doubt waiting for Ash and I.

I feel very similar to the way I did when Sal ended our shit-uationship. I'm so confused and so hopeless, but hopeful. So pained, but relieved. I don't know how to handle the way I feel. I can't work myself out of this awful situation now because he's here. He's here and his hair is billowing softly in the wind, showing off his tattooed neck. And a cigarette is between his index and middle finger as he looks out at the jam-packed street. And then his boot is stomping out the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

The nail in the coffin is when he bends over to pick up the cigarette butt and throw it into the trashcan right outside the diner. He would be perfect if he wasn't such an emotionless prick.

I want to cry. I want to feel him again. I want to shoot him with a paintball gun one more time. I want to run my fingers over all his tattoos. I want him to shiver in fear and pleasure because of me. I hate him so much that it's become obsessive.

I lick my lips as I come to a top in front of my friends, more notably, right in front of Sal.

He turns away from the trashcan behind him, his shoulder-length hair following his movements. When he notices me, he stops and stares disinterestedly. The action is so forced though that it feels like it's hiding something else. Like he doesn't want me to know what he just did in the diner.

I watch him. My eye contact is a threat, a warning, a question, begging. Everything, I try to show him through my gaze.

And then I nod at him subtly despite myself. Even if it wasn't for me, he put that guy in his place and I think that's something to appreciate. But at the end of the day, he still left me upset and he's an asshole so I can't find it in myself to physically tell him thank you. The nod will do.

I turn my attention to the rest of The Faces. "I can make brunch in my apartment if that works with y'all?"

And that's how I've made another mistake today. That's why The Faces are walking down the streets of Los Angeles, my apartment just two buildings away.

There's so much wrong with this decision I've made. I should have never invited them over. What if dad is home? He shouldn't be-- but still. There's so much that could go wrong.

But the walk is going disturbingly well. Ash and Larry ooh and ahh at the streets of Los Angeles— which are normal to me. But I understand the charm too. I was very fond of LA when I first came here.

We walk into my apartment building, everyone speaking a little quieter as we traipse through Lobby. I don't speak, I just listen. And I take it that Todd and Sal are doing the same.

My apartment building is nothing special. It's boring, it's the lowest end of mainstream you can get. It's like a 90's apartment in Manhattan, but make it modern and LA. To put it short, it's the cheapest Dad and I could find here.

Having The Faces step into my territory feels like a time bomb ticking down the last few seconds. It's scary, and it puts me in a vulnerable position. I don't have much of a choice— I'm the one who thought of this idea. And I feel like I owe it to my friends to make them something to eat after they got kicked out of the diner. Not that it was my fault, but it was my customer's fault. I feel guilty for some unreasonable reason.

There's always risk though, and I run through my list of said risks as we take the elevator to my apartment. Being in someone's living space is daring, considering that family stuff is all around. Photos on the wall, artwork with family name's on them, doctor appointments and reminders on the refrigerator. Everything is risky, risky, risky.

Lucky for me, dad and I still haven't quite settled in yet. It's been a year, but we're also both constantly moving around. Dad is in hotels for weeks on end and I work most days. We unloaded and fixed our necessities, but other than that, our walls are bare and nothing of note is on our refrigerator. I should be fine.

We finally empty out into the hallway that leads to my apartment and I have to swallow down the anxiety rushing through me. Nothing has gone wrong and I can only hope that the last leg of this walk will go well for me. I just want one thing to go right today, just one. That's all I'm asking.

I get to my door, I shakily slide my key into the lock, and I open it and let all my friends in, watching their eyes bounce around the living room. I nearly slam the door shut once everyone is safe and inside.

I got my wish. Thank you to whoever granted me a little bit of peace on this unfortunate day.

"You need to get a new carpet."

It's the second time I've heard him speak today. The raspy, monotonous, alto tone of his makes me pause. He wasn't insulting, the way he said that was just commentary. But his voice alone feels like a declaration of war and all the panic and fear I've been enduring for the past— what? Half hour?— is replaced with some kind of desirous agony. Like I've been waiting for him to just... just speak.

"You have a problem with everything, don't you?" I respond, my voice biting into the stale air of my living room. I should've simply asked why he felt that way, but I have reasons. For example, the shit I've put up with today has me on edge. Another reason is Sal bombarding me on all ends without him even realizing it, then being so tense with all these horrible decisions I'm making. I'm really itching for a fight right now and I know I can get it from him. I can practically feel my eyes dilating with the excitement that's ransacking my body at the mere prospect of an argument.

Sal's head turns over his shoulders, body somewhat rigid. One hand in his pocket, the other with the fresh tattoo resting at his side. His eyes are narrowed, scrutinizing me and no doubt wondering who the hell I think I am.

"There's a giant fucking stain on your black carpet," he snaps, gesturing his tatted hand at the light green splatter that dad fussed me for weeks ago. That time I was watching The Faces' Youtube video and spilled my damn mint chocolate chip ice cream. When this entire thing between Sal and I was started. Because he had to go and judge me without getting to know me first. "Be happy I even mentioned it," he mutters, tone clipped.

"You think I didn't notice?" I laugh humorlessly. I wasn't lying when I said he has a problem with everything. Seriously— he just stepped foot into my home and has something negative to say about it. "And why don't you guess who's fault it is that the carpet is stained, huh?" The words rush past my lips, all hardly held back fury and expectation for the worst.

Sal tilts his head in a way that begs me to try him again, then turns his entire body to me. He shuts his eyes and holds up a hand, pausing before saying, "It surely isn't my fault if that's what you're implying." He even adds a snort at the end.

"Actually," I say cheerily, chin up and head high because it's quite literally all his fault that I dropped my ice cream whenever I heard him talking about me all those weeks ago. "Yea it is. I was sitting right there," I point to the edge of the sofa nearest the stained part of the carpet. "While listening—"

I feel like I've been punched in the stomach, and I did it to myself. Again.

How could I be so stupid? Here I am, openly and happily about to expose my true identity just to make a point. Just to be right. To win. To gain some catharsis from a meaningless argument.

I snap my mouth shut, swallowing over the relentless pounding of my heart. I blink at Sal who's waiting expectantly for me to finish what I was saying. What do I say? How do I save myself?

My palms sweat, my legs quake. Oh, this is so bad. Is this my real downfall? Is this where I break? It's going to happen. I'm going to pass out or have a psychotic break. Maybe I'm going insane— maybe I've been clinically insane for weeks now. At least I could plead not guilty at my murder trial. I've had a lot of murder on my mind today, haven't I?

But there's a knock at the door and bless the heart of whoever is about to punch my door hinges off. Any other situation and I'd be losing my mind over someone knocking so hard, but my savior is behind this hunk of wood.

I let out a shaky breath and tilt my head downwards, pretending like I'm too fed up to continue my argument. It's perfect. The best excuse.

But Sal's eyes burn into me, the scrutinizing, heavy blue trapping me in my own guilt. A narrow waterway hidden behind the confines of his prosthetic, haunting me day and apparently at night too. I find myself stuck, my gaze piercing his and waiting for something that will never come. I don't even know what that something is.

"Never mind," I grunt, spinning on my heels and taking a singular step toward my door.

I twist the knob, relieved by the silence behind me. No one cares enough to ask what that was about. I escaped... somehow.

And then I swing the door open, gaze up at the last person I expected to see, hear a resounding and excited, "Bitch!" and intellectually (smartest decision I've ever made) slam the door back in their face.

Oh no. Oh no, oh fuck.

I forgot.

____________

A/N:::::: 50K is such a dream come true and i really wish i could find more words to explain how excited and whole i feel. when i first started writing at 13, i was also reading on wattpad and fanfiction.com. I saw all these writers getting so many views and comments about their works, and i wondered if that would be me some day. i worked hard for the first couple years of my writing career and my only reader was my lovely sister (thank you amititty) and i realized that i needed to do something different. i started practicing more, and then i got into fanfiction rather than just fiction. and that's when something changed. i'll never forget the day when maybe today got 1k views-- i cried and wept like a baby for HOURS because it meant the entire world to me. little 18 year old ryver had no fucking clue that we'd get this far. that 1k on my trial book would turn into 50k on the next. i'm in tears typing this right now, in disbelief. every single one of you are my reason for writing, for brainstorming, for getting through my day... i consider you guys in everything i do. all the love in this world-- every ounce of affection, of adoration, of admiration-- does not compare to how special all of you are to me. you are all so dear to me, my friends and penpals that keep me going and remind me that the world isn't all bad, that not everyone is bad. so thank you for following me down this road and i hope we can continue like this. i wish we could all stay this way forever! but maybe, just maybe, i'll get to sign published copies of my books for you guys someday. get to follow through on my dream to hug all of you. there's never a way to tell what the future holds, but i believe it's pretty bright. thank you. i love you all with all the working neurons in my brain and numerous blood cells in my body <333

so about this chapter-- i have been looking forward to it since the very first chapter of this story. a lot of things have changed since then, including the chapter, but i still think the contents are a nice surprise and fucking HILARIOUS >.< i just hope you guys like it too! it was kind of hard to get out because i had all these ideas and images and feelings that i desperately needed to portray perfectly, but some things are just unable to be captured by words. my goal was to get as much as i was feeling onto paper (or computer?), so i hope you guys feel all the fear, desperation, and admiration going on! i deleted, retyped, and deleted again so many scenes and parts of this. and jesus christ this is an exceptionally long author's note MY BAD

anyway, as always, you guys own my heart and i love you to infinity and beyond!! i'll link pictures of y/n's red dress and sal's tattoo below <3

p.s. i have an announcement coming soon! nothing big, but i am trying something new so stay turned :3

[strangerwinden]

Excuse Me While I Pack My Shit: Mental Health Hiatus

Just mainly putting it out there for my own benefit, I don't have a huge following here to begin with, but this year has been horribly hectic, like constantly waging war with Edgar Allan Poe and his weird madness and an impeding zombie apocalypse (although, I wouldn't outrule the zombies just yet). Where do I start? I lost my dad almost two years ago, I started a new job at an elementary school that has been in equal parts both rewarding and frightfully stressful... to put it bluntly, it's been a lot. I haven't quite processed it all and I am, unfortunately, against a shitty disadvantage with having mental health issues in the past (going all the way back to my first suicide attempt at eleven years old; that alone requires its own novel but Jesus, Satan, not today).

I was honestly looking forward to starting fresh with this blog for new content, but today, all the bad things shoved deep down the damp, hollow well in my head could no longer be repressed. I spiralled. My anxiety has been approaching and breathing and growing and expanding since mid October 2023. I kept playing it cool, pretending I was okay. Nearly six months of this fabricated make-believe shit. Hashtag: I AM (NOT) OKAY WITH THIS!

Oh, bitch, who was I kidding? Because TW: sprinkling salt on your bare arm and pressing ice cubes to the salted skin for over an hour is like setting yourself on fire for fun. (In all seroiusness, not my idea of fun, kid!)

I'm sorry, world, I just couldn't do it anymore.

For lack of a better visual comparison, the more you deny "it," you risk the inevitable: you fuck with the Babadook (ba-BA DOOK! DOOK! DOOK!).

There he is. Dare to look.

He arrived in all his horrific queer icon glory and busted through the wall (screw the door, who needs doors?). I had a complete autistic meltdown (among other things) at work of all places and on a goddamn Friday, no less (no need for dramatic specifics; a plethora of shit building up in the background of chaos just cornered me and devoured my mind whole). Though per school protocol, I was escorted to a psychiatric hospital for mental health evaluation.

That's where I will end this dramatic as fuck tale. Just know that social media is not a good place to be right now (truthfully, it's the last place I want to visit; all my invisible horrors and inner voices are merely magnified). The queue is still running but otherwise, I'll be tuned on radio silence, folks. This space cadet is preparing for take-off. To anyone that reads this rambling mess, look out for yourselves.

See ya, Space Cowboys

Juno

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Finally out. Here's my attempt at a recap for myself for where I'm upto now that I can listen to Woe Begone again.

So, Hunters goofed up Mikey by doing some time shenanigans and making Mikey their bitch. Proven by making him kill Edgar and stealing Michael's hat. Ty (was he cowboy ty?), king of paperwork, of course had a back up plan because he be like that. Steals Mikey from Hunters. Sends Mikey to Latvia. NO COWBOY! Mike and Mikey go forward in time and find a cowboy who abandons them. Then they find another one, who helps. They snoop through Cowboys things and learn about Sy and Edgar. Something about boulders and a secret other guy who sends Mikey back to the right universe? Did I forget anything?

[ask-camp-anomaly]

Intro Post!!

hi everyone!!!!! i stole a phone to make this blog, so don't tell the Head! anyway, my name is wirt, im 14, and i use they/them pronouns, and i'll be running this blog! here's a rundown of all the fun and exciting people who you'll have the pleasure of talking to.

first (the best cabin)- Cabin Esoteric!

there's me, obviously. i'm the best

then there's my older brother tammy, 21, he/him, our counselor, he's... out of it most of the time. don't ask about his eye.

there's tato ash, 16, she/they, our cit!!! shes a bitch

and then theres hector jekyll and edgar hyde, 12, he/him. hector is sooooooo stuck up, man

then theres Cabin Eldritch

theres my bff harley sasqua, 13, he/they, hes.. a bit shy. if you're a dick to him, i'll light you on fire. just because he's tall doesn't mean he isn't just a little softie!! Wirt, why would you say that? because its trueee

then there's lunar, he/him, 19!! he's the counselor, and... don't tell him i said this, a little scary. but like in a cool goth way!!

calling nessie an honorary member since she used to be in eldritch, soooo

nessie loch, she/her, 18!! she's so sweet, and does a lot to help out around camp. hiding a lot of secrets. don't ask about her full name.

then there's carmilla leeds, 9, she/her been here since birth honestly i don't know much about her, but she has a pet chicken named jersey

and finallyyyy edith terrell (but we all just call her edie t.) she/her, 8. she's the only one who is allowed outside contact so blame her if we get found out!!!

now the creepy cabin, Cabin Elysian. i don't know how old these dudes actually are, so i'm just putting the age they died

there's damien polter, 22, he/him, the counselor and the biggest sweetie around!! lily braids his hair, it's so cute

speaking of lily! lily markendaya, 16, she/her, very nice too (what's with all the dead ones being nice?), dating tato i think?

oh wait. exception to the nice rule. jesse o'moore, he/she, 13. he will throw his head at you if you're not careful (i know from expirence :( ). she's like... a sibling figure to mary, i think they knew eachother before the camp was even founded

mary red, 6, she/her. she really likes dolls. like. really likes dolls. looks creepy, but she's a sweet kid.

Ã̷̯̮̉n̵̩̰̊̔d̸̹̳̀ ̶̖͇́̆m̵̩̓͝e̵̘̾̇,̶̙̟͘ ̵̡̧̔͘T̷͙̦̈́h̸͖̒̆e̷̖͋̎ ̴͈̖͋̀Ḛ̷̀́d̸̲̆ň̵͔͍̏i̶͓̇̍ś̷̪͇̾ ̷̼̩̓N̴̳͕͆̚y̵͕̑e̷͍͌̎͜!̸͈̱̐ ̶͇́Ì̵̧͔̈́ ̴̳͛w̶͎̠̽i̷̝̟̓ḷ̸̟̍l̶̥͙̎ ̶̛͙͎̓b̴͖̟̑͋è̷̥͇̊ ̸̹̓͛w̴̺͎͗ā̶͉̚t̵̻́̊c̸͉̑ẖ̷̾̕í̴̺̑͜ṉ̴̘̂g̶̞̞̎ ̸̰͋ở̸ͅv̶͓̇̋ë̸̬͖r̶̦̓ ̶̡͙̅́t̷̤̼͂h̵̖̞͋ḙ̸̔̄s̵̻̀̋e̷̥̹̚ ̴͖͑c̸̢̩͌h̵͓̲͐͌i̵̯̪͗̈́ḻ̴͂d̸͚̦́̕r̷̝̈́͐e̷̯͐͗ń̵̛͈,̶̢̫͋̑ ̶̰͆̂p̴̳̍e̷̞̰̊̇r̶̡̓̀h̵̝̩̚a̸͊̃ͅṗ̶͖s̸̗̃̈́ ̶̩͔͑͘ḯ̸̦̠͂n̷͈̚ͅt̷̝̽ȩ̴͕̇̈́r̷͔̟̈́̚v̴̥̅ẻ̵̲n̵̬̍̀ĩ̷͙̚n̶͎͌̂g̷͕̻̈̀ ̷̨͠w̵̟͎̉͘ẖ̶̣̈ȅ̴̥̽͜n̵̻̼̈́ ̶̯̠̍I̷̤̲͋̅ ̶͉͍͆͝f̸̬͠i̴͕̇n̸̺͛d̷̳̳͋͗ ̸̱̳͠i̷͍͐̈́ť̶̗͜ ̵̩̓a̸͙͑̇m̵̬͇̏͂u̴̞͔̒͠s̵͈̝̋́ḭ̴̅̎n̶̈́ͅg̴͕̚.̷̢͚͋

(And me, The Ednis Nye! I will be watching over these children, perhaps intervening when I find it amusing.)

ooc!! hi!!

nsfw-ish asks sent to the older characters (nessie, lunar, tammy, damien, etc) are alright, but a lot of these characters are children!! dont be weird!!

simple rundown- this is a place for children with anomalies. esoteric is powers, eldritch is strange appearance, and elysian is undead

also, they all have. very extensive backstories and lore that i will be hinting at throughout. feel free to dm me (mod @the-pipster-pin) if you want a full breakdown of everything, but... there is a LOT. you can also just send ooc asks if you have just a question or two, im always happy to answer those:) just know that none of these children are at this camp consensually or legally. and they are all so traumatized. love u and have fun<3

(ALSO lunar and nessie are canonically trans, tato and harley align more with their agab but are nb, and wirt doesnt have a canon agab and probably never will)

all of ednis' interventions will be in pink, no idea if ill keep the zalgo but ill make sure to include the plain text under it

[yumester]

sending this back to sender. i need a full dissertation on pAInter STAT

Oh, look it's the silly mutual once again in my ask box, wailing and screaming like a drenched kitten or that one generic male character from the hit game going through the worst experience ever— (gets shot)

Anyway, here's my opinions on The p.AI.nter from the hit Roblox game.

You know the drill, putting a read more for my and everyone's safety.

Fucking character of all time, man. Not including Sebastian! We hate Sebastian in this house! 🗣

They made this shit in the lab and called it straight up cocaine for lore heads. And by lore heads I mean me homie!! /j

Gonna mainly go over each label but might go into detail later on so watch out.

Everyone but me is wrong about them <3: I mean this in the nicest way possible. Pressure fandom has already failed miserably at the characterization of Sebastian. We've seen it all, to people anime boyifing the hell out of his visage, to the literal creators having to ward people off by adding changes to the game's data by removing voice lines. Man is not your big monster hubby with a tortured soul. Okay, maybe he is a tortured soul, but more literal than that and less likely to cry on your shoulder or even give you the benefit of the doubt to hold you at arm's length. Anyway, I've seen some people babify the hell out of p.AI.nter as well, and it sucks. I'm sorry, but it's true. It is not your friend, guys. It just wants to paint.

they got done dirty but the creator/s: Okay IDK if you've even peered at the recent updates or uploads from the main creator, but it was shown that p.AI.nter will be updated to be killed at some point. I don't know if they already patched that through the other day because, for one, I haven't played the new update. And, two, I think anyone who tries to do so is a dumb bitch because all p.AI.nter does is trick the player with fake doors and has turrets in occasional rooms (yes, the turrets can be annoying at times but who cares). In my head, I feel like the entity adds some charm to the existing enemies you face during a play through. And removing those elements just feels like a waste. Technically speaking, you only get to The p.AI.nter's room in a certain percentage. Though I will say it makes sense in canon why you would be able to destroy it as Urbanshade as talked nonstop about removing any and all adversaries that get in its way, mainly Sebastian (Unfortunately and thankfully, in Sebastian's case, Sebastian can't be killed). But, I will also say, The p.AI.nter's document, however tragic that it is, kills me at the fact how they handled its owner's death. Like really? Accidentally killed with a rifle to the head because of some dumb guard, no less. If I was that sentient AI, I would no doubt feel endless dread and sorrow. Though, then again, The p.AI.nter is already had several moments of killing itself and been depressed while under Urbanshade's care.

ADOPTION PAPERS ADOPTION PAPERS FILING THE ADOPTION PAPERS: I won't bother writing a whole paragraph, so take this GIF of p.AI.nter as Edgar instead. <3

i am constantly going insane rotating them in my brain like a fork in a microwave: I can not overstate how much I love this little guy. I don't talk about it much nor articulate the words in discussing this freak like I wish I could. But The p.AI.nter is a character that resides in my head twenty-four, seven. Like I'm writing a fanfic about Sebastian right now—well before you sent this, but all I've been thinking about is this dumb AI. Its relationship with Sebastian. Its overall role in the story of the game and so forth.

the popular ships for this character suck: OKAY, OKAY! I know I reblog and sometimes like content of The p.AI.nter with Sebastian together, but that's mostly because I find ship art in general to be an endearing thing to look at from the views of a consumer. However, canon wise it just doesn't… click is all I'm going to say. I DO LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC, HOWEVER!

constantly listening to songs and mentally holding them up like a paint swatch: To be fair, I'm always listening to music, I'm a music junkie at heart and, brother, this shit is breakcore!

I WANT TO STUDY THEM LIKE A COCKROACH: All I'm saying is robotic characters growing sentience is a form of love in video game writing, baby. Also, like I loved The p.AI.nter even before friendly fire update. But y'know me, when it hit beta with its new voice and new face with the MS Paint program that has scratchy line art, circles for eyes and wobbly smile—I was ecstatic! I'm not an engineer or a computer nerd by any meanings, but I wouldn't give to be in Pressure for a spell to like look at inside and out in a non-sexual way of course LMAO.

whats wrong with them (affectionate): SO, SO MANY THINGS! MAINLY URBANSHADE </3

#LETTHEPAINTERPAINTFREELYCHALLENGE

not enough screen time: Maybe this is the me that “likes this character a normal amount” talking, but it makes me sad that The p.AI.nter doesn't say much when you visit its enclosure in heavy containment. Like, you visit Sebastian's shop, and he has like hundreds of dialogue, all of which include snide remarks and shouting at you. It's freaking Gianni I get people! But anyway, my man deserves a little more, thank you. <3

they've never done anything wrong in their life <3: Watch this video from 1:25 and 2:23 and tell me I'm wrong.

my opinions would be received by most fans as akin to hitting a wasps nest with a baseball bat: i shan't say...

This is the best character in the work: Discounting the most integral character, Sebastian fucking Shoelace, we have The p.AI.nter! Yippie!!! My blorbo, my absolute bestie, my man who hits me in the ass with high grade turret bullets to only die to the next room, my “locks me in a room with my wife as we discuss divorce papers and play 7 minutes in heaven” wingman. <3

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TedTalk!

[rosetheex-editor]

[Video transcript start.]

[The video begins, as a lot of them do. From Rose's shirt pocket she is setting up plates on a table with a person identified as "Liam" multiple voices can be heard in the background identified as "Katherine" "Leon" "Nessa" "Hina" and "Stacy", Rose puts the final plate down before finally talking.]

Rose: fucking hell! ok what else? kath is the cake done?

Katherine: Just about! Putting the finishing touches on now!

R: ok! ness are the gifts wrapped?

Ness: Yeah. Why do you think I'm sitting here?

R: anything i'm forgetting? stacy?

Stacy: Other than the birthday boy himself, I don’t think so.

R: epic. ok um… fuck when was he supposed to get here?

S: Around ten minutes from now! We have a bit of time to chat.

Hina: when can I go home?

N: When the party's over… On the bright side, you get free cake.

[Rose turns over to the living room, putting her phone on the table in a way the camera faces the guests. Before falling on the floor, annoyed. looking at Stacy as she starts talking again.]

R: i've never planned one of these before. does it normally take this long??

Liam: No clue, I’m just happy to be here.

N: SAME! I haven't been to a party since… Mari's birthday last year!

R: i just hope he likes it… he hasn't had a party in… probably years.

K: He’ll love it, don’t worry, Rose. If you’re here, there’s no way he’d dislike it in any way.

[Katherine walks across the room, checking to make sure the decorations are set up properly, and adjusting any small thing she can. She has a passive smile on her face as she does so.]

R: i want today to be great… i know it's 9/11 but please i hope nothing goes horribly wrong.

N: Today will go well! I know that much… Wait, me and Katherine haven't met, I don’t think… Um Katherine, nice to meet you, I'm ness. Rose's friend? part time roommate? and this is hina… the sister of one of my friends.

K: It’s nice to meet you too! Maybe we should all do a little introduction, because I know that Stacy hasn’t met you guys, either.

R: don't you guys both know me? y'know edgar's daughter he accidentally adopted… the girl who was gone for like a month and a half because a purple bitch thought it would be REALLY funny.

N: Oh! yeah nice to meet you all! I'm Ness, I work at that pizzeria. little bon's lucky land or whatever.

S: Nice to meet you, Ness. I’m Stacy, uh. Edgar’s ex-fiancèe, Showfall’s fault.

N: Oh um. damn i'm sorry about that…

[Ness grabs her arm before touching Hina's shoulder. Rose finally sits up as Hina turns around confused, ness points at the people in the room and hina begins talking.]

H: hi.

N: introduce yourself.

H: hi. i'm hina. My sister is missing. that good?

R: yeah um that works… kid.

Leon: Hey, uh. Sorry to interrupt, or… I guess this isn’t really interrupting, is it? Sorry, I’m Leon. Stacy knows me. Uh, me and Edgar kissed at a party once. Spin the bottle.

N: Nice to meet you! or wait… you were at my house… so technically we already met. Nice to meet you again!

Le: I guess introductions do get a bit redundant when you do it over and over again, huh?

K: Wait, you guys kissed at a party? Why was I never told this story? It sounds funny as hell!

R: SAME! EDGAR NEVER TOLD ME THIS STORY!

Le: I mean, it’s not really something you tell someone when you meet them. But yeah. We both were drunk as hell and decided it would be really funny if we did it. Kinda how I figured out I was gay. Kissing a straight guy. Pretty funny, eh?

N: I'm noticing a lot of y'all are some form of gay? and that is cool!

K: I think Edgar is the token straight of Lostfield.

N: I have a straight friend. His name is henry!

Le: Maybe they can bond over being straight or something?

N: maybe!

[The doorknob rattles as someone outside attempts to enter.]

R: OH FUCK, PLACES EVERYONE HIDE!

[Rose grabs her phone jumping behind the curtain. Footsteps can be heard as everyone hides.]

[The door to the apartment creaks open, and someone steps inside.]

?: Wha–

Everyone: SURPRISE!

H: ugh.

[Everyone leaps out from their hiding spots, the camera now showing the rest of the room, the same as before, but now containing a bewildered looking Edgar.]

R: HI DAD! SURPRISE!

Edgar: I– What–

R: BIRTHDAY PARTY! THAT'S WHAT!

N: Mr Edgar, this was Rose's idea.

E: You guys set this all up for… for me?

[Edgar blinks hard, and a hand moves up to wipe his eyes of tears. His lip trembles.]

R: i um- yeah… i wanted to do this… an apology for making you worry about me so much.

[Without another word, Edgar walks over to Rose and hugs her.]

R: i… um… this is nice…

[After a little bit, Edgar pulls away, and looks at all the other people standing in the room, a goofy smile plastered across his face.]

E: Thank you, everyone. I… nobody has ever done this for me before. I just– Thank you.

H: I'm just here but um… yeah you're welcome.

N: Forgive Hina she's um… Anyway of course! It was wonderful helping set up… even though I stole a whole fountain drink thing from the restaurant.

R: of course dad.

K: Happy birthday, Edgar.

R: ok so um… cake time?

S: Hell yeah! Let’s get this party started!

N: LET'S GO!

R: you ready edgar? katherine and i spent forever on a cake.

E: Of course! I have a feeling today is going to be a great day.

[Everyone begins walking to the table, with the exception of Hina who stays in the corner she was in. The sound of singing can be heard as everyone sings Edgar happy birthday, before Edgar blows out the candles and cuts the cake. The last thing seen is Rose grabbing her phone, this time not panicking when she sees the recording, just turning it off, before going back to enjoying the day.]

[End transcript.]

[darling--angst]

! 100+ Follower Event !

Status: Open

Thank you guys so much for the 100 followers! I know I suck at writing but you guys still liked it so thank you so much!

Rules

Please follow the guidelines before requesting

Please be patient.

When the event is over, it's over; please check my pinned post for clarifications.

Please chose only from the options (you can request if you want but I'm going to have to do it last because of the event)

You can specify a scenario that you want

Please specify the characters

Minors are only written platonically

I only write for the characters listed below

Mix and match

Specify if you want it to be platonic/romantic

Theme: Songs

- Each options is going to have a song lyric, the whole Oneshot is dedicated to that song lyrics with a character of your choice.

- You can also choose a scenario but it's optional(I'll not be providing the scenarios)

Genre: Available

- Fluff

- Angst

- Comfort

Type: Available

- Oneshots

Characters:

- Atsushi Nakajima

- Dazai Osamu

- Chūya Nakahara

- Kunikida Doppo

- Akiko Yosano

- Ranpo Edogawa

- Kyouka Izumi

- Kenji Miyazawa

- Jouno Saigiku

- Mori Ogai

- Edgar Allan Poe

- Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

- Gin Akutagawa

- Higuchi Ichiyo

- Nikolai Gogol

- Fyodor Dostoevsky

- Tecchuo Suihiro

- Sigma

Format: name, (no.), Character, Type: [scenario optional]

Ex. Paper Rings (2) Nikolai, romantic: [scenario]

Angst:

"I had all and then most of you. Some and now none of you, take me back to the night we met. I don't know what I'm supposed to do haunted by the ghost of you"

- The Night We Met, Lord Huron

"I brought you daffodils on a pretty string but they won't flower like they did last Spring"

- Another Love, Tom Odell

"I wouldn't hesitate to smile while you suffocate and die. And I would be just fine oh what a lovely sign"

- Choke, I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

"Cold sheets, oh where's my love? I am searching high, I'm searching low, in the night"

- Where's My love, SYML

"You have to understand that, the one I killed was me. Changing who I was for who you wanted me to be."

- If I killed Someone for You, Alec Benjamin

"You'll change your name and change your mind and leave this fucked up place behind. But I'll know"

- Christmas Kids, Roar

"And the worst part is that I love you I loved you I loved you it's true, and sometimes I feel like I still fucking do"

- Rät, Penelope Scott

"The music we make is unnatural, but it sound just like falling in love"

- Butch 4 Butch, Rio Romeo

"They call him hermit the frog, he's looking for a dog. Did you find your bitch in me?"

- Hermit the Frog, MARINA

"I used to like smoking to stop all the thinking but I got a different buzz"

- High enough, K.Flay

"In the back of my mind you died. I killed you, and I didn't even cry. Not a single tear, I can't I believe I said it"

- Romantic Homicide, d4vd

Fluff:

"I'm alright if you're alright, and I'm okay if you're okay."

- This December

"People say she's crazy and her life's a mystery, oh but love grows where my rosemary grows"

- Love grows, Edison Lighthouse

"But when he loves me I feel like I'm floating, when he calls me pretty I feel like somebody"

- Cloud 9, Beach Bunny

"and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this uh-huh that's right, you're the one I want"

"kiss me once cuz you know I had a long night kiss me twice cuz it's gonna be alright, three times cuz you've waited your whole life"

- Paper Rings, Taylor Swift

"Close friends, besties, roommates, colleagues, anything but lovers. History hates lovers"

- History hates Lovers, Oublaire

Comfort:

"I don't care about the government, and I really need a hug. I feel stupid and ugly, pretend it doesn't bother me"

- Boys will be bugs, Cavetown

"I think I'll miss you forever. Like the sun miss the stars on the morning sky. Later's better than never."

- Summertime Sadness, Lana del Rey

"It will take a while to make you smile, somewhere in these eyes I'm on your side"

- Space Song, Beach House

"You took my broken melody, and now I hear a symphony"

- I Hear a Symphony, Cody Fry

"If you feel lonely I could be lonely with you, tell me baby why do you seem so blue? Why are we so complicated?"

- Sports, Beach Bunny

[daincrediblegg]

Hello ❤️ Book ask game!

1, 10, 11, 48 👀👀

1.what is the best book you have ever read? So listen. Listen to me. I have been plugging The Vampire Tapestry to literally anyone who will listen to me ever since I read it. And I will do it again. I cannot express how hard to put down this book was for me (and for someone who is primarily a film/television consumer and an adhd bitch to boot? that says a lot). There are so many things about this book that make my brain go brrr from the atypical vampire narrative (featuring a dilf vampire- and you don't see a lot of those-whose condition is more biological than fantastical, but is nonetheless a complicated mess of a creature), to a really clever drawing back of the curtain and critique of the very genre it's meant to portray, and I literally don't think I'll ever be over it. I almost wanted to kiss my professor on the mouth for assigning this book (but I didn't). I still think about it constantly and I will never stop.

10. what book are you reading right now? I'm... actually reading several in a very asynchronous way. Of course I'm about 100 pages deep into the terror rn, I'm also working my way through May We Be Spared to Meet On Earth (collection of correspondence from members of the franklin expedition- which I'm certain was study material for some of the actors bc I feel like a lot of the letters in that are so clearly reflected in the characters on the show moreso than they are in the book- and honestly every single fucking letter from Francis Crozier is a heartwarming delight deadass). I'm not reading so much this semester but I'll be reading throughout the semester Miyazakiworld: A Life in Art (and it's had some really fascinating little anecdotes so far).

11. what book do you want to read but haven't? I honestly want to read more stuff from Miss Charnas. She fucking understood the assignment on so many levels with Vampire Tapestry that I really want to look into more of her. Ofc I have a ton of Jane Austen and Jane Eyre that are burning a hole in my bookshelf, and a little volume of the Lais of Marie de France that I want to take a more proper gander at. These. And so. SO. Many more. OH AND I FORGOT I also have been dipping my toes into historical erotica like Fanny Hall and it’s been tons of fun (and if anyone has some specific victorian recommendations I would LOVE to receive them- it’s VERY important lady terror research 😉).

48. what book would you give someone if they wanted a glimpse into your psyche? I really do hate to answer Edgar Allan Poe again BUT!!! in specific- I think anyone who wants to understand me and my approach to my writing and stuff? Look no further than The Philosophy of Composition. You wouldn't expect EAP to be such a brilliant essayist as he is but jesus christ I still think it may be the most fascinating and engaging essay I've ever read in my life. He articulates his points so poetically and so well and honestly? There's not a word in that essay that doesn't ring true for me to a lot of how I process things myself in my own writing- and things that are generally just great writing practice- like when I read it for the first time a few years ago I literally went "he's just like me fr" and I've felt soul bonded to the thing ever since. I also gave a presentation on it in my Gothic Lit class last semester that everybody really really liked (and of course. because I really REALLY fucking love this essay and this dude). And honestly I'd love to give that lecture again and I hope I get to.

BOOK ASK BAIT

[trashcankitty12]

Howw as the relationship between Griffin and her mother while she was working for the circle?

So I'm going to answer this based on my "main" verse because I have no idea about this with canon and it's irrelevant in my "Left in the Aftermath" verse due to her being already dead.

Before she joined the Coven, she and her mother were sort of strained because of the death of her father and the fact she'd been getting into so much trouble at school and with authority figures.

Theodora was terrified that Griffin was going to end up taken to a Dark Magic Camp or sent somewhere else because of how unapologetically anti-council and anti-Dragon (yeah) that Griffin had become.

(Which, the woman understood. Things were awful for dark magic users during this time and it was anger-inducing. But Theodora was more willing to bow her head and bide her time, whereas Griffin was determined to make changes right then and there.)

(And so was Salvador, who had already been secretly working with the Coven here and there on projects before being an official member. He was never Inner Circle though, as his power level wasn't considered "there" and he was better suited for working as one of their few healer specialists.)

When Griffin joined, her mother wasn't informed. She had no idea at first what Griffin and Salvador were up to, thinking they were working with a magical research group. That is, until the police started getting involved and she saw different news articles.

Theodora was pissed.

You see, the Ancestral Coven had already tried tapping her late husband, Edgar, into joining their ranks, intrigued by his work on Magic Theory and the Balance Theories. (Which Griffin would later complete and publish, with him as a posthumous co-author.)

But they had rejected the Hags because Theodora could see through their guises. (They claimed they wanted to "reunify" the dark realms and make things more "equal". But she has a future sight ability and could see the destruction and chaos the Ancestral Witches wanted to cause and had saw a past vision of them being the ones to murder the monarchy of Obsidian. Needless to say, she was quick to inform Edgar and have them sent off.)

So now her children are in their clutches and then it gets worse. Her daughter is also now involved with their "son". Fan-fucking-tastic.

Now, Salvador and Griffin would visit discreetly during holidays or other important events, and she would try to keep her feelings in check because these are her babies. But damn seeing Valtor in her house... That had her hackles raised in ways she didn't think they could be. Even her familiar had it out for him.

(She would try and talk her kids out of being involved, would try and open their eyes to the situation they were in and how the Ancestral Witches were lying. But they thought they knew better and could handle it. "We're changing the realms, Momma. You'll see.")

Her children are smart though, so she knew it was only a matter of time before they'd see through the bullshit and come to their senses. It took years, but it would happen. (And she had her escape plan ready because she knew those bitches wouldn't let there be any peace when Griffin and Salvador finally left. And she was not going to be their victim.)

Of course, she was reunited with her daughter and son at the Fortress of Light after their "trial" had ended. They were alive, on some form of parole or probation period, and it was great.

(And then she discovers she going to be a grandmother and "great, now we're tied to him forever." Which isn't so bad in her mind after she starts having visions about Valkyrie and who she'll become. Really puts her mind at ease.)

(There's a lot of difficult mother-daughter and mother-son conversations during this time period. Lots of regrets and guilt. Nightmares. Worries. Heartbreak. But Momma Sylvane will always come through for her kids, even when they're deadass wrong and fucked around and found out.)

Now, after all this has passed, they have a much better relationship. Much better.

Though there are still moments in which certain mistakes are brought up front and center. ("We get it, Mom. We joined a cult and nearly lost ourselves into it. Can we please drop it now?" "Not on your life.")

[cassiuspr]

[Transcript begin]

[Cassius whistles the melody to ‘Puttin’ on the Ritz’ in Edgar’s apartment, possibly waiting for someone. Soon, the door creaks open, someone drops their backpack loudly by the door.]

Edgar! I’m b–

[They yelp, noticing Cassius on the couch.]

Hey there. Edgar isn’t home right now.

Yeah, I can fucking see that! Who the bitch are you?

I’m Cassius! Come and take a seat, Liam.

[Liam freezes at his name having been said, despite not introducing himself. Now making no move to approach.]

Liam. Sit.

[The boy snaps out of it, making his way over.]

S– s– so what did y– you uh, want to ta– talk to me about?

I am in need of a few important files. And I have reason to believe that you have them.

Sir, I don’t know w– what you’re talking abo– about.

You do. 

No, sir. 

Liam. You know what I’m talking about.

I d– don’t!

[Quick movement as Cassius grabs the collar of Liam’s shirt in his hand and raises his voice. Liam's breath hitches.]

You know where they are! They were your dads research, I went to go and retrieve them, but they were gone!

I–

[Cassius stands, bringing Liam up with him.]

And you have them! I fucking know you have those files!

How did you know my–

Your dad? Damian Lucifer Spencer? I know him because I'm the one who fucking killed him!

[The room falls completely silent. The only noise being heavy breathing from Liam.]

What?

You fucking heard me, Liam Tobias Spencer. I killed your dad. And I'll kill you too if you don't hand those files over.

You– but it was a–

It's very easy to fake something like that, Liam. Now, are you going to give them to me? Or do I have to rip this place apart myself to find them?

[After a few moments of silence, Cassius drops him. Making a small noise of disapproval.]

Honestly, I expected a bigger challenge from Damian's kid. He put up much more of a fight. He'd be so disappointed in you, Liam. Give me the bag. I already know the files are in there.

I–

[A short pause.]

Fine...

[Liam walks back to the door, picks up his bag and hands it to Cassius, he snatches it, and begins to walk towards the window. He stops.]

Before I go, though...

W– what?

I just have to say, you were much more agreeable than your roommate. Thank you for cooperating! See you soon!

[Transcript end]

[charlesjosephwrites]

Find the Word Tag

Thanks to @ahordeofwasps for tagging me! This is probably my favorite tag game, so I'm always super happy to get it thrown my way! My words are tend, tremble, tower, tall, and tear!

But first I'll tag @kyuukhya, @magic-is-something-we-create, @dontjudgemeimawriter, @writingpotato07, @fearofahumanplanet, and anyone else who wants to jump in on the tag game with the words panic, ignore, stay, snap, and afford. As always, no pressure, though!

Now, here are the snippets, all pulled from the wip The Magician and Ms. Psychic!

TEND

My hands curled up into tight little fists, and I took a step towards him. “What’s so funny?” “Oh, nothing.” He chuckled again. “I just… expected differently from you I suppose.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I tried my best to keep myself calm, but my voice still came out a little louder than I had intended. “Well, supervillains don’t tend to be so” — he tapped a finger against his chin with a thoughtful hum — “nice.”

TREMBLE

(This one had to be cut real short because it was surrounded by major spoilers rip)

My bottom lip trembled, and my eyes stung with tears I refused to shed.

TOWER

Edgar rose to his feet, and I had to fight the urge to back off as he towered over me. “I think we both knew you’d come crawling back to me eventually. I just thought you’d have a better excuse for me this time.” Heat rose in my face. I clenched my fists as tightly as I could. Asswipe. Fuck-face. Bastard. Good for nothing— I cut off my train of thought with a little huff. “I’d rather gouge out my own eyeballs with an ice cream scooper than go through that bullshit with you again.” I gave him a good hard shove, but it only sent him back a couple of steps. “Oh.” Edgar’s laugh made my blood boil. “So we’re playing hard to—” His voice died with a high-pitched squeak as I brought my knee up into his crotch as hard as I could.

TALL

“Just one thing before I agree to… all of this.” I turned towards Edgar with a little hum. “When Ms. Psychic shows up…” I stood up straight, doing my best to stare down at him despite the fact that he was several inches taller than me. “You’re going to stand back and let me take care of that bitch myself, right?” Edgar quirked an eyebrow. “Actually, the plan was to pull this off before Ms. Psychic has a chance to get in our way.” “Before she…” My voice trailed off as I struggled to make sense of what he was trying to say. “Wait. Wait.” I made a little time-out motion with my hands. “You mean you expect me to go through with your little scheme without my nemesis?”

TEAR

“Hey…” Claire’s soft voice cut through my swirling thoughts. “You don’t have to cry. It’s okay.” I hadn’t even realized that my eyes were getting so wet until she said something. I tried to blink away the tears, but they wouldn’t stop coming. “It’s not fair,” I mumbled. “What’s not fair?” Claire asked. “Every time I fall for a girl she ends up being straight.” I closed my eyes as tightly as I could. “And like… that might be fine if I didn’t have such shitty tastes in everybody else, but—” Claire’s fingers brushed against my arm, and my heart practically leaped up into my throat. I opened and closed my mouth to continue ranting about my shitty luck, but the words died in my throat. “April…” Claire took a deep breath. “I'm not straight. I'd just rather have his conversation when you're a little more coherent."

[charley-and-the-swap-machine]

CATSM: RE-INK'D (Chapter 3: Part 6)

googa booga

The Voice Of Norman Polk

Now, I'm not lookin' for trouble. It's just the nature of us projectionists to seek out the dark places.

You see, I've learned the ins and outs of this here studio. I know how to avoid being bothered by the likes of this... company.

"That projectionist", they always say, "creeping around, he's just lookin' for trouble."

Well trouble or not, I see everything. They don't even know when I'm watchin'.

Even when I'm right behind 'em.

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

Henry slipped the syringe into the mailbox, hearing a familiar clunk as it fell to the bottom.

"Well, aren't you productive? Maybe you've got more use than I thought." The angel praised him. "But alas, your work still isn't done."

Henry sighed with mild frustration. Anything else, sire? Should I do your laundry? Vacuum the carpet? Pick up eggs and milk at the store? He thought with mocking sarcasm.

I know I agreed to this to get out of here, but does it have to be so tedious?

"Now, for your next task...."

-

-

-

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

Henry rubbed his forehead as he walked back to the steel doors once more, catching his breath.

God dammit! It's like that angel wants to kill me! The cores were fine enough but....

He switched his mental voice to something mocking Edgar. 'Ohh, break those cutouts! Break those cutouts! Ooooooops, I forgoooot, he doesn't like it when I do thaaaaaaaat.' And I had to get chased by that goddamn oversized rat.

He crammed the axe into the mailbox's slot, and grumbled to himself as the speakers fizzled alive once more.

The spider seemed more.....frantic than usual as he shouted at Henry. "UGH! Those freaks have wandered my halls, have gone UNCHECKED! Don't let them take your angel!"

"What the hell are you talking about? Wha-"

"PURGE THEM! SMASH THEM INTO PUDDLES!KILL THEM!"

The steel cylinder flipped open with Henry's pipe as he heard several of the 'Devil Gang' creatures swarm into the area.REALLY!? You're giving me this crappy weapon to fight off all THOSE guys? Now I want that axe back....

Sighing, he grabbed the weapon and turned around, bracing himself for the battle.

-

-

-

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

Smacking a last Imp with the pipe and watching it dissolve into the floor, Henry wiped the copious amount of ink from his face as the angel returned through the intercom.

"Ahh....isn't that better?" The angel sighed. "So peaceful.......Susie says it's like a welcoming grave. Don't you agree?"

He bit his lip in unease at the comparison the unknown 'Susie' made. "...I....I guess."

"Oh, I do hate leaving work unfinished!" Edgar exclaimed. "But...I have you to pick up the pieces. For this next task, you have to go a bit....deeper.Muchdeeper. I sure hope you aren't squeamish...because you'll certainly be handling a few organs."

Just the idea of touching an organ make Henry give a small gag, but he shook his head and accepted the task.

"Oh, Henry! Don't you leave yet!" The angel stopped him before he could go to the elevator. "I have a little...present for you! You've been working so hard, I think you deserve it."

The cylinder box flipped open to reveal some sort of rifle, and Henry's eyes grew wide.Nice, finally, a good weapon!

As he tried to grab a hold of the gun, it soon dissolved into a mass of ink, his excitement soon fizzling into disappointment as he watched it melt in his hands.

The spider giggled a bit. "Oopsie daisies, I forgot! It's hard to get a.....holdof."

Spirits dampened, Henry clutched his pipe and made his way back to the lift.

-

-

-

NEW OBJECTIVE: COLLECT 5 INK HEARTS

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

'Hard to get a hold of, hard to get a hold of,' Oh, fuck off, you bitch. Henry thought to himself in frustration as Edgar started his usual conversation with the duo in the lift.

"Barley, you know...it's been such a while since I've seen you, and it made me so happy to see you again! Never thought I would be, but..." the angel chimed, Barley looking down at the floor and messing with his hands in response, his face flushing a light grey.

"Susie...." the angel continued, "Susie says...you're 'perfect'. I...I don't know what she...meant by that...Susie, what exactly did you mean by......"

Edgar trailed off and went quiet, and the speakers shut off, leaving the lift silent except for the whirring of the wires. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Henry watched Barley give the same dejected expression from before as he continued fidgeting.

It soon stopped at level 14, and before Henry could step out, a moving light in the distance of the abyss before him made him freeze like a deer in headlights.

The speakers fizzed back on. "Shhhh....that's the Projectionist right there. Stay out of his light, that's the only way he can see. You should be alright if you make as little noise as possible.....or splash around, see what happens, I don't care."

Henry took a glance around at the flooded area. Now I'm positive he's trying to kill me. How am I supposed to be quiet?

Lying by the elevator was a corpse of a Devil gang member, clutching what appeared to be an inky heart in its hand.

Cringing a bit, he reached for the organ, jumping back when it started pulsing. He almost crushed it for a second, before remembering the task at hand. After a while of trial and error, he finally managed to grab a hold of the heart, careful not to squish it in his fist as he descended below into the inky darkness to collect more.

-

-

-

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

Alright, that should be almost all of them.

Henry dragged his feet through the shallow ink so as not to make any sound, as he walked through the dark empty maze, illuminated by the occasional flicker of a cartoon projected on a wall.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a brighter light than before, and he stumbled back in surprise, falling into the ink with a splash.

A loud, inhumane screech met Henry's ears soon after as he pushed himself up.Shit.

Racing through the maze, he soon found some sort of box labeled "Little Miracle Station", and he crammed himself inside of it to hide. Looking through the square hole, he watched as what he could assume was the supposed Projectionist, holding his mouth with his hand so he wouldn't gasp and alert it.

it was tall and thin, coated in ink from the neck down. The head was completely replaced by a projector,—Bit of a comedic name, isn't it,—wires descending down from it into its back. A metal speaker was crammed directly into its chest, and it made distorted, muffled 'breathing' sounds from it as it blindly looked around for its prey.

Henry felt a twinge of sympathy for it as it eventually gave up and trudged away. Poor guy. It must've been a person, and now look. It's a monster stuck like that down here.

Quietly opening the door, he picked a final heart from the ink as he carefully left the maze.

-

-

-

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

Henry squeezed the ink hearts into the mailbox as the intercoms turned on once more. "Way to go! Tell me, did they still pulse and writhe in your hands in the elevator?"

Urgh, don't say that....He swallowed a bit of bile that rose in his throat as he thought of it.

"Well, that should finally be it, errand boy. Return to the lift. I have a little surprise for you...."

-

-

-

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

"Have you ever wondered what Heaven is like?" The angel asked the duo as the lift ascended. "I remember, vaguely. It's...bright...and soft...and stars are so close to you, you can grab them and hold them in the palm of your hand....you can see it for yourself, errand boy...."

It went silent for a moment, before the lift abruptly stopped with a jerk.

Henry soon felt his stomach lurch as he felt the lift drop violently, the sound of the metal grinding against the sides ringing in his ears as it fell.

"DO YOU REALLY THINK I'M LETTING YOU LEAVE THAT EASILY? HA!

I'M NOT LETTING YOU GO, CREATOR. I KNOW WHY YOU'RE HERE.

BARLEY...BARLEY IS PERFECT! SHE SAYS HE'S PERFECT! YOU'VE SEEN WHAT I'VE DONE! I NEED-I NEED TO BE PERFECT! SHE SAYS I NEED TO BE!

GIVE HIM BACK TO ME! OR BETTER YET...I'LL TAKE HIM!

YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO HEAVEN? WELL, I'LL DROP YOU RIGHT THE OPPOSITE WAY!

RIGHT...INTO...HELL!"

Henry reached out to Barley, who was frozen there wide-eyed, as the lift crashed and everything went to black.....

[reservoirreputation]

I have a problem called Harvey Keitel, but damn do some of the movies he stars in sound real fuckin depressing.

AND. THEN.

I spot 'Two Evil Eyes'

SO GET THIS

it's got Harvey in it (duh) it'S DIRECTED BY GEORGE ROMERO AND DARIO FUCKING ARGENTO????? DOING ADAPTATIONS OF STORIES BY EDGAR ALLEN POE????????

THIS SOUNDS AMAAAAAAAZZIIIIIIIIIING

Romero's first, THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF MR. VALDEMAR

Our main female character's suit is both very eighties, but actually looks nice? It was *only* 1980, I guess it's before things got our of control.

Couldn't help but like her a bit. Practicing her retort in the car is so human, you can't help sympathizing with her.

The mistress wants to get paid- is it wrong I kinda agree with her? I mean, assuming she has nothing to do with her husband's impending death.

Obvious forgery is obvious.

Ernie and the Doctor sound very similar *side-eyes*

One, the house is beautiful, two, are Jessica and her totally-not-sancho wearing clothes made from the same bolt of fabric? I mean, that's one way to code that they're working together.

Jessica at least has some shame- the titular Mr. Valdemar is pretty much a puppet, at this point. Her cohort is trying to justify it, saying her husband's a bad man.

ROBERT AN JESS ARE EXES

Valdemar literally stole his girl, damn.

Well then. I went from pitying the poor guy because he's awake now and in so much pain, to disliking his ass because of how he talks about his wife.

Wall safes are so cool. Also, Robert clearly didn't know about it. Looks like he won't need Jess' full cooperation, huh?

'nothing at all to connect us' nothing telegraphs that their romantic relationship is dead more than that, huh?

Gotta love Ernest having such a timely death. So much for those efficient millions.

Three weeks at Valdemar's baaaaabbbbbyyyyyy.

oh shit, at fist I thought they chopped him up (stupid, they were just talking about making him look fresh for a mortician) but DAMN my brain really went there.

So many similarities between this and Bernie. Wild.

That shot of the feet disappearing under the stairs- *chef's kiss*

'I'm glad to see that you're finally doing the right thing' YES NIGHT NURSE, RUB THE SALT INTO THAT WOUND

Damn, that pool might as well be an ocean between them, huh? Also, they're wardrobe couldn't be visually further apart, now.

Those massive fuckin' sunglasses, listen to the Eagles baby, you can't hide your lyin' eyes (also a song about a young wife cheating on her cold as ice husband with a much younger man, more 'age appropriate')

OH NO DON'T TELL ME THAT POOR BASTARTD'S STILL ALIVE

OH NOOOOO

DON'T ACTUALLY MAKE ME FEEL BAD FOR HIS BITCH ASS (they're all terrible tho)

FUCKING HELL ROBERT, KNOCK ASSHOLE

He's totally alive down there.

OK tubi's got ads, no shit, but I just got a Credit Karma ad? With a non-binary MC named Morgan?? I LOVE THIS?? I LIKE THIS PICTURE BECAUSE I AM IN IT?!?!?!

Back to the movie 'I'm here, I'm with you, nothing is gonna happen' SOMETHING IS ALREADY HAPPENNING

I love how Jesse's vibe is never 'oh no, my husband's still alive and is suffering!' and instead is 'I'm being HAUNTED'

No, wait she's not in denial?

Hm, your husband has some freezer burn, I'm afraid you'll have to throw him out.

NO WAIT, OH SHIT OH FUCK IT'S THE HYUPNO BULLSHIT MOTHERFUCKER IS STILL ALIVE

What a fucking nightmare.

Nope, sorry, he is in fact dead. I'm apparently as confused about it as this doctor is. BTW, trying to pry his frozen eyes open? That's also good shit.

Boy, I started this to get to some Harvey Keitel, and I ended up watching some existential terror.

Oh god, he just wants to be woken up.

'The others are coming'?? Oh shit, I've seen this Doctor Who episode.

'It's over' insert John Cena meme 'are you sure about that?'

'they're coming for you Jessica' is so close to 'they're coming to get you, Barbara' that I am unreasonably delighted by it.

Yo, Robert, you might wanna GTFO

Hey, isn't that the guy from Night of the Creeps?

When all your budget went into the location and Ernest's special effects, that the 'others' gotta settle for body suits.

Nevermind, a good portion of the SFX also went to Robert.

Heh? Get it?? Blood money??

Next is Dario Argnto: THE BLACK CAT

We get a bunch of crime scene photos, and then one very good boy (a black cat) Look, I've got four black cats, I don't know if I can put up with any impending slander.

'Sir, you think there's any chance of me being transferred back to parking violations?' SHIT GIRL SAME WE'RE IN THE DEEP END ALREADY

You know, I was wondering why they were using an obvious dummy, and then we get the overhead shot. In just a few seconds, we get a very different tone and execution, holy fucking shit.

"I'm sorry' proceeds to take cool-ass shots of a death trap. Gee, I wonder what fate will befall this poor artsy bastard.

AHHHHH IT'S A CUTE BOOOOOOOOOY (Harvey in a bow tie)

AHHHHH IT'S A CUTE BOOOOOOOOOY (Black cat existing)

Correction: AHHHHH IT'S A CUTE GIIIIIIIRRRRRRRLLL

Found the cat on the street, story of all my animals. They just show up, know that we'll feed 'em. Sure, you might get your balls cut off, but ain't that worth the kibble? Also, you'd better not be pointing out that white mark on her chest just to kill her later, and that be the only identifying marker. I swear to god, movie-

One, yeah that cat's staring at you. Two, this sweet girl reminds me so much of Buttons. The eyes, the white patch. God, I miss him.

You know what, fair enough, worrying about gettin' your eyes clawed out. One of our cats likes to attack people's feet, but only when they're covered. He prefers my Mom's which just comes across as spiteful. (God, this movie's gonna expose me as an annoying cat owner, isn't it?)

How the fuck did this fucking cat get OUTSIDE? Bitch, you were in the hallway, stop teleporting. Also, LET THE BABY INNNNNN.

You motherfucker, throwing the shoe and then pretending you were asleep. Your girlfriend needs to smack you.

My dislike of the photographer aside, Harvey looks great in a bathrobe, soaking wet. Also, is he contractually obligated to have a comb with him in 90% of his films? 'Cause it sure feels like it.

If this doesn't end with his obvious witch girlfriend sacrificing his ass because he pissed off/hurt the cat, then I don't know what's gonna happen.

Welp, the cat's dead, innit? Well, she may come back and haunt his ass, but he totally killed her. Girlfriend's underreacting BTW. If I knew with certainty that my partner/anyone I was living with killed my pet-

Now I'm really hoping his ass gets cut in half. Or that the cat comes back to eat his eyeballs.

There's something very wholesome about a village coming together to execute an animal abuser.

'But I didn't finish!' is unintentionally hilarious. Buddy, I think you got them all.

Who the fuck is this student?? And why does he literally look like a child?? Who looks at a woman crying and goes 'God you're beautiful?' *Grabs spray bottle for both of these idiots*

Did he really- deny killing the cat- and then release a book showing him killing the cat?

THE BITCH IS BACK

IT'S DEFINITELY HERS

Buddy- did you not learn your lesson? Killing the cat twice isn't gonna help. Also, he's apparently gonna hang, a shame. I was really banking on him getting cut in half.

That shot of the staircase from the top down- I think I know where Rod's gonna hang.

Something about the CC reading 'knife pierces skull' that just- oof.

The shot of him frantically scrubbing off blood, then it cutting to her blood staining the bath water- that's cinema, right there.

Oh shit OH SHIT ARE WE ABOUT TO HAVE A SECOND BODY

Nope. Something about jazz music playing loudly in the background makes this feel even more insane.

'together forever' honestly made me think he was gonna kill himself. No, I think he's just gonna- carry her corpse everywhere. They're going on vacation, after all.

HE'S HIDING HER BEHIND A WALL!?!?! BITCH WHAT THE FUCK

*Grumbles* Piece of shit still looks cute in a bowtie.

The cutout of her face is hilarious. You can't tell me they didn't do that for a laugh.

'Nobody will think of looking for you in the house' AND WHEN SHE STARTS TO SMELL?! WHAT THEN!?!?!

I guess you could say that the call was coming from inside the house? Eh?

OH CAT VISION THE BITCH IS BACK

So, the student that looks like a child is Christian. I'm still convinced this fucker's in high school, or he's just got a baby face.

Okay, I don't like the little twerp, I'm biased against him, but like, acting all cocky, like a know-it-all going, 'That's strange. Well, you think if she'd have gone on tour, she would have taken her violin.' And then Rod calmly replying 'She has two' I actually cackled.

God, Gloria looks horrified to know she's friends with a woman who was living with her boyfriend, not her husband, like they're shacked up in sin.

Look, Christian, you're right, but I don't like you. Fuck off.

The hole starting to form, bringing something into the light, as Rod slinks off into darkness- I LOVE MOVIES, OKAY!?

Oh, I see, it's a symbol. Neat.

Wasn't the phone just unplugged? Did they force him to plug it back in when I wasn't looking?

OKAY. LISTEN.

WHEN THE LADY FROM THE BAR SAID 'IT'S DESTINY' THE CC READ RIGHT AFTER 'SHE'S PREGNANT' BUT I DIDN'T HEAR SHIT. I THOUGHT IT WAS A GLITCH

THIS IS FUCKING NASTY/GREAT

Not to help the animal abuser/girlfriend beater, but don't you have a knife, buddy? To cut off the dead weight? I know fear makes us stupid, but um

AH FUCK HE DIDN'T HANG IN THE STAIRWELL

Thank you movie, for that Humane Society seal of approval. Like, the cat was so obviously not being tortured, just a little squished, but it is still nice to see.

Trust Dario Argento to pick out a catchy soundtrack.

This movie got batshit crazy by the end. I definitely prefer the second movie to the first, but both are good. *jams out to 'woman singing in Italian'*

[xtinyslip]

"well, i wouldn't put anything past us at this point. hm? who knows?" who did know? she didn't doubt how much they loved each other, it would be a fools errand to try and find doubt in that because there was none. they proved that time and time again. however, they also proved… this. what even was this? "we were happy." she could feel the tears blurring her eyes but it was because they had been. it might have been just one night they got but it had been so PURE, it had been just them and it happened to still be her favorite night. she had always been selfish and right now she didn't care because she wanted more, she wanted more nights like that one. "i do love you, quite frankly it's killing me, but i do love you." and that would never change, which fucking killed her more. there wasn't some shiny, rich elaine waiting for her at the end of this chapter. there wasn't anyone like that for her. when he kissed the top of her head, she shuffled in closer to him, not that she could get much closer but she wanted to be as close to him as she possibly could right now. "hm, i do love your optimism but it's not quite that simple…" it wasn't that she was giving up fighting it either, it just felt like a concern far down on her list. she had to fucking live to get to that point that first. she had to actually make sure she was mentally, and physically stable before she could contemplate that. right now, she wasn't convinced she was either after this. "of course, when it comes down to it she's just some silly, insecure girl with daddy issues. why do you think she went so far to make sure you were hers?" cecilia wasn't going to think of how could she relate, she didn't want to be able to relate to that bitch at all. "she wants her father's approval so badly? i'll make sure she never gets it." oh, that was a spiteful move but cecilia was more than capable of being just that. cecilia had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to find a way to live without him. when he'd brought her here, when he'd signed her over to elaine. she thought she'd processed the thought and swallowed it down to hide how much it hurt her. however, hearing him verbally say it, hearing that out loud. she was glad he was still carrying her so she could just hide her face in the side of his neck, knowing he'd feel the wet from her tears but he couldn't see them. that would have to do. "he's aware of what you gave him?" asking for reassurance because she was such a mess, there was no telling she'd remember everything after this was over. "i'm a terrible person, p. i didn't change your life for the better. look at how little it took for everyone to turn against me, to see me as the monster that my father raised…" that was a wound that she wasn't sure would ever heal because it had hurt enough that it was him, but it hadn't been just him. it had been edgar, it had been john. her people, and they couldn't see her and yes, she didn't think there was any fixing that. "i never signed them, the divorce papers… i care little for what she threatened to do to me. i never signed them." incase miraculously elaine handed him signed papers, he needed to know she'd never do that. @fcdcdmcmories

"I DO. I WANT THAT MORE THAN ANYTHING, AND.. maybe, one day? we'll be able to get there. who knows?" he wanted to think that they COULD do that. that when all of this was over and done with - he could come find her again and that they could talk and see.. where they were. where SHE wanted them to BE. but for right now and as always, with them? this seemed to be a matter of the wrong time. wasn't it? it wasn't about LOVE, he didn't think. hadn't they always loved each other too much? "neither would i. i don't know what came over us that night, but ... i think it was the first time that we were allowed to be JUST US. maybe the first time ever. free. together. no complications added. just p and cee - who loved each other far too much. we were.. we were so happy that night, weren't we?" he remembered that a part of him had wanted the night to not end anytime soon. he remembered that he had wanted to live in that one moment forever - where they had become husband and wife. this? this had never been what he wanted. which was why he was going to make it right now? yeah. he smiled, looking DOWN at her, as he kissed the top of her head. they'd get to that bathroom soon enough and then, will and whoever else he was bringing would be here and he had no idea of when he was going to see her again - if ever - but for right now, he wanted to savor having her back in his arms again. even if ONLY for a moment. "you can fight that record. find a lawyer - a good one. get them on your side. prove that mentally unstable claim was bullshit. that's how you start. and the rest will just FOLLOW," perhaps he wasn't one to give her any kind of advice and perhaps it was foolish of him to try but who else knew elaine better than him? not most people, if ANYONE at all, no. "she loves him. she wants his approval more than anything in the world. maybe more than that hospital. if you can get to him? it would make a world of difference." wasn't it clear whose side he had chosen to take here? he didn't know - it was all so fucking messy now, but.. he hoped that she knew that he was with her. "no. it's not. what i want is to give you your best chance and.. this is how i do it. even if it means having to.. live without you," for a little bit. just for a little bit, he kept telling himself, but he still got choked up at the thought of never seeing her again. "i.. i left something with will. when the time's right? if ... if you want? you can ask him for it and.. i'm sure he'll give it to you. it's.. an explanation. about all of this. about the past and about.. why i did what i did. about how much you changed my life for the better. how i'm better off for having gotten to KNOW YOU. to love you, for all these years. to be your husband. and.. it's also.. AN APOLOGY. A BIG ONE." and an i love you, in every single way. all the things he couldn't say out loud? yes. @xtinyslip