#i love how many dykes are just like yeah I died and when I came back everything was possible

[gatheringbones]

judy grahn, from another mother tongue: gay words, gay worlds, 1984

[the-hopeless-haze]

Rebel Rebel (Part 1?)

Pairing: Janis Sarkisian/reader

A/N: okay this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I have no idea if I’m gonna continue this but fuck it???? Sorry for all the people who followed me for Barba lmao (I am continuing that don’t worry) but idk I just figured I may as well post this??? I have more of this written and I know how I wanted it to end but the middle is just not working and that’s why I never posted. But I just listened to Dead Girl Walking and I was reminded how gay I am for Barrett sooooo 😂 here you go? You’re welcome?? I haven’t edited this or looked at it since March so this may be a mess but... yeah

It was eighth grade, nearing the end of the year and you were anxious, unsure of why. Would your friends still be your friends next year? High school was going to be a lot different, you could just tell.

You saw your two best friends, Regina and Janis talking to each other down the hallway, where their lockers were, so you headed down there. Regina was probably inviting Janis to the end of year pool party she’d been planning. It was going to be so great to at least be with all your friends one last time, even if high school might take them away.

As you got within earshot, though, you realized Regina was being anything but nice.

“But are you a lesbian, Janis? I can’t have a lesbian at my pool party,” you hear Regina’s high pitched voice chirp. “You understand that, right?”

“Regina... I—“

“What? So are you?”

“Why are you asking me this? Did I do something?”

“I need to know. Don’t you get it? You not wanting to answer is pretty suspicious.”

“I am a space alien and I have four butts!” Janis yelled and ran down the hallway, leaving Regina to laugh. She makes eye contact with you. “Wow, I dodged a bullet with that, huh?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Don’t you get she doesn’t fit in? I mean, she likes girls, first of all. Second of all... she doesn’t get this stuff. Don’t you want to be popular in high school? I can get you there. We’re on top here. Everyone knows us. But this is child’s play.”

“But that was mean, Regina!” you said, your tone accusatory.

She shrugs her shoulders. “Sometimes you have to be mean to get what you want. And we’re not going to get it with her.”

“But she’s our friend!”

“Was...our friend. Don’t you care that she’s a dyke?”

You sighed, defeated. You wanted to tell her, no, you didn’t care... but you knew she’d stop being friends with you too. And her talk of being popular and being on top of the world... it sounded good.

You had many regrets about this day, and if everyone has a couple turning points in their lives, this was your first.

——

Regina was right, though. She got you everything you had thought you’d always wanted, but you never felt good enough and a lot of the time, you’re miserable. You’re constantly worried about your weight, whether you got enough instagram likes on your 1000th picture with the plastics, as you’d been dubbed, and whether or not you were dating one of the hottest guys at school.

Who would’ve thought the hottest guys were so dumb? You didn’t like any of them, really, and the second they asked to get in your pants, you dropped them like flies. So you’d gotten a rep for being somewhat of a prude, which Regina would sometimes scold you for.

Regina just got meaner as time went on, and sometimes you regretted not turning on her the first day she showed her true colors, when she’d sharpied all over Janis’s locker “SPACE DYKE” and even included it in the burn book she made over the summer once yearbooks came out. Regina would flirt with boys that she thought you or Gretchen liked, just to show you she could have them. Jokes on her, you didn’t like any of them, but you had to pretend or there wouldn’t be any gossip or any of the infighting that Regina seemed to love. It was the beginning of sophomore year now, and it was beyond exhausting.

And oh, the parties that started now! You hated them, just an excuse for everyone to get shitfaced and girls to make dumb decisions that made boys so happy even though everyone was too drunk to really remember them the next day. Regina is hosting one tonight, and here you are, in your skimpy, skin tight blue dress that you had to buy with babysitting money— since there’s no way in hell your mother would buy that for you. A sophomore hosting a party was unheard of, but Regina has a huge house and her parents went on vacation for their anniversary. She’d use whatever she could to her advantage.

All she wanted was to climb that ladder, and she didn’t care who got hurt in the way.

But here you were, dancing with the hockey player you were dating now... or was it football? You didn’t even care. You vaguely remembered his name was Mike and you told him you needed to go to the bathroom. You headed to Regina’s room and locked the door, thankful you got there early enough that there was no one trying to hookup.

You got lost in your phone for a while, and you found Janis’s Instagram profile. It was private, but there was her profile picture. She was so pretty now, not the awkward girl who tried to dye her hair blonde and wear pink just to fit in. She wore dark makeup in the picture and she wasn’t looking at the camera, and it fit her so much better. Even her hair, which she had let just grow out from the blonde she’d dyed it, looked great. You nearly send a follow request and then think better of it.

You remembered having hobbies, painting at Janis’s house until your hands were covered in paint, and you remember laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

Sometimes Regina was a good friend. Sometimes she was a great friend. She was there for you when your grandmother died over that first summer without Janis, and she held you while you cried... and you cried a lot. But sometimes she was mean to even you and it was exhausting. You know she cares about you, but you know she’d turn on you, too, if you gave her what she deemed enough reason to.

You can’t remember laughing like you used to in a long time. You can’t remember being passionate about anything for a while, either. The only time was in your classes, really, you loved chemistry but you had to keep it under wraps because if it got out you were too nerdy... well, that’s social suicide.

The thing about being a plastic was that you couldn’t be anything or do anything too extreme. You had to just be a shell of human being, a shell of a hot girl, just to appease everyone. The money you spent, or had your parents spend, on your bleach blonde hair and your makeup and your hot clothes and your nails and your purses and your shoes... and the hours you spent at the salon and the mall with Regina and Gretchen and Karen, it was completely exhausting. And then you weren’t allowed to have a personality outside of all of this, it was just, clothes! Makeup! Shoes! Boys! Parties! Popularity!

All things girls were supposed to care about, but really, there was no girl left in you to care anymore. You slip off your heels and lie down on the bed, remembering Regina holding you. That felt nice, her slender arms around you, her chin against your shoulder, and she smelled so good, like a hair salon and vanilla and cinnamon and... you just wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she be like that all the time?

The pillows smell like her shampoo and you inch up to place your head on them, ready to fall asleep, the bass from the speakers downstairs lulling you.

You awake twenty minutes later with your phone blowing up from Regina. “Where’d you go? Party’s not fun without you 😘” her most recent text said. Your eyes burn from the makeup you fell asleep in and you blink a few times before replying, telling her you were in her room and not feeling well.

“Bummer! I’ll be up in a few xo” she texts back.

You answer the door when she knocks, and you smile when she hugs you immediately. “(Y/n)! I’m sorry you’re sick! Did you drink something Kevin made? Because don’t.”

“No... I just... I don’t know. I’m sick of the parties,” you grumble as you pull away from the hug and sit back on the bed. She follows you, her pink dress clinging to her every curve, riding up a little as she sits down.

“Why?” She laughs. “This is what high school is about! You’ve gotta have fun. You’re only hot once.”

“But this... it’s not fun to me. It’s not fun to get wasted and have guys try and get in my pants and watch girls throw up.”

“But we can get everything we want. It’s what I always told you,” she says, rubbing your back, but her voice is hollow.

“I don’t have everything I want! I don’t even know what I want anymore, but I’m not happy. Are you? What are you getting out of this because I don’t understand.”

“Respect. Love. Fear. It’s all I ever wanted, really,” Regina says. “People either love me or hate me but they think about me. They think about you, too. Everyone who’s a sophomore knows us, and most of the upperclassmen do too. Doesn’t it feel good?”

You sigh. “I guess, sometimes, it does. But most of the time it doesn’t! I don’t like it, feeling like I have to do everything perfectly because everyone’s watching. And it’s only going to get worse because next year we’re juniors...”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not entirely happy either. I don’t like Jack.”

“Then why are you dating him?”

“Because. Free popularity and all I gotta do is be seen with him.”

“But... doesn’t he ask for more?”

She laughs. “Sure he does! But you have to be strategic with that.”

“Right..." you say, slightly sarcastically. You didn't really know what she meant.

Regina places a hand on your knee. “I know it’s been hard for you. But it’s going to be okay.”

“Do you wanna... just lie for a minute? I know you have to go back to the party—“

“No, I can stay for you,” she says, smiling softly. There was the Regina you wanted to be friends with all the time.

You both lean back on the bed, and her arms wrap around you tightly, her chin nestling on your shoulder. Here, you were happy.

“It’s all worth it, all the fighting to just get to the top to sit like this with you,” she says quietly. “We could never be made fun of for this because we can’t be touched.”

“What?”

“Don’t you get it? I... I don’t know how to say it. Just... trust me, okay?” You nod, not sure what she meant, but then she’s leaning over and turning your cheek toward her and she’s kissing you.

Regina George is kissing you.

It’s a quick peck, probably because she’s not sure how you’d react but it’s still the best kiss you’d ever had in your life. You don’t make any rational thoughts in the next few moments and you’re not sure if she kisses you again or you pull her back in, but all of a sudden she’s on top of you and kissing you harder, and slowly, the confusion sets in.

It almost feels too good to stop, but eventually your brain starts working again. “Regina... I... are you okay?” you ask as you pull away. “Are you drunk?”

“What? No. I wouldn’t get drunk at my own party, what kind of slut does that? No, (y/n)... I want you. Didn’t that feel good?”

“Yes... but... you kicked Janis out of the friend group for being a lesbian. Why would you do that if you were gay? You always said she had a crush on you. Why would that have been such a bad thing?”

Regina sighs and flops over to the other side of the bed. “I’m not gay. I mean. I don’t know. I definitely didn’t know back then but I knew Janis just didn’t fit in even if we took away all of the gay stuff. But if we talk about the gay stuff... then yeah. I was confused. Super confused. I didn’t know if I liked you or her and I knew I wasn’t supposed to like either of you. And then I saw the two of you together and you just... you had something I didn’t have, just genuine friendship, and maybe she had a crush on you. Either way I was jealous. And I had to get the two of you apart.”

“Regina... that’s awful,” you say.

“But then I tried to be nice to you! I just wanted to be friends. I mean, I didn’t think I wanted to sleep with you or anything. I just wanted to be friends. Karen and Gretchen are just stupid and I just don’t feel comfortable enough around them to be like this. To let go of the persona.”

“You haven’t been entirely nice to me, Regina. Plus you started this off by ruining my friendship with Janis.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have done that, but I was so... angry whenever she was around. I just... we could pass for straight. No one would know.”

“Regina... I can’t,” you say, biting your lip and trying not to cry.

“Do you... do you not like girls? Is that it? I’m so stupid,” she says bitterly.

“No, Regina, it’s not that, I mean... I don’t know if I do. But it’s just... I’m tired of living like this and I don’t want to have this secret to worry about. All we need is for Gretchen to find out...”

“But she wouldn’t. And even if she did, do you think she’d cross me? Cross us?” She grips your wrists. “Please.”

You start crying and you know you’re not going to be able to stop. If the circumstances were different, you’d love to date her. You think. “Regina. I don’t want to be popular anymore, and for that to happen, we can’t be friends and we... can’t do this.”

“But—“

“If you want to drop it... then... if you want to give up being popular, being fake... then... then yes. Come out. Apologize to Janis. But I’m leaving, and I’m not leaving with baggage.”

She nods. “I... I understand. It’s okay. But I need this! They’d tear me apart if I came out and I can’t be... I can’t be outcasted. I’m exhausted, too, you know? But it’s... it’s better than the alternative. I hope you don’t come to realize that.”

“Regina...”

“No, it’s fine. I really get it,” she says, smiling. “But I’m going to have to spread a rumor, something so they don’t question why you left the group.”

“I know. Just say I’m gay. It’s your trick.”

She starts crying then, sobbing, really, and your heart lurches. You lean over to hug her.

“You don’t have to be so mean.”

“Yeah. I do. Because if I’m not it’ll turn around on me. My mom... she’d never understand! I just... okay. I understand we can’t... be seen together if this is really what you want. But can you at least text me once in a while? So I know how you’re doing?”

“Of course,” you say. You hug her one last time, and she kisses your cheek. You leave the house with your head held high but your heart sinks as you realize this is the last time you’ll step foot in there.

——

Regina is meaner without you. She is hostile to Gretchen and Karen, and you can tell if they adored her at all before, that’s completely gone and they follow her out of fear that she’d make their lives a living hell.

Maybe it’s because she did go on and start the rumor you were a lesbian. Fair enough. You weren’t entirely sure about that label yet but it gave you enough freedom to maneuver this without having lame guys hit on you anymore. That may have stopped anyway since you weren’t competing with Regina for hottest in the sophomore class... but at least it stopped.

“So... looks like she did the same thing to you after all, bitch,” a female voice says as you slam your locker shut. You jump and look to your left to see Janis there... and your breath catches. She was all the more beautiful in person.

“Yeah,” you frown. “But hey... are you mad at me?”

Janis scoffs. “Kinda. But I know you weren’t to blame now. I mean, she did the same thing to you! And I hate Regina more than I could ever hate anybody. Also Damien made me talk to you.”

“Damien?” you ask. “Wait... that guy in musical theater?”

“Yes...” Janis says slowly. “How do you know?”

“He’s really good! I’ve gone and seen every play. Like, and sat in the back. But I’ve gone.”

“Wow. That surprises me. But you did used to love that sort of thing in middle school.”

“I think I made you listen to the Mamma Mia soundtrack at least 80 times.”

“Oh yes. Wait... did you know that they’re putting it on this year? It's the spring musical."

“What?”

“Yeah. Maybe you could audition now that the plastics aren’t holding you back. You have like one day to make up your mind though. I do scenery. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Where do you sit at lunch?”

——

It was an awkward reintroduction and the words are never spoken. Is Janis gay? More importantly, are you gay, or bi, or something? Does wondering if another girl is gay make you gay?

But aside from the utter confusion of possibly having a crush on your ex best friend, you’re enjoying life as an ex-plastic. You’re auditioning for the role of Donna, but even if you don’t get it you’re going to get a part since so few people actually signed up to audition. You’re drawing again, too, even if you were never as good as Janis.

Regina hasn’t texted you yet, but you’re thankful. If she did too soon you’d get pulled back from the progress you’ve made. But you’re also worried about her, and your heart lurches whenever you make eye contact with her at lunch and she looks away quickly.

But this was how life was going to be from now on, so it was time to get used to it.

[nblesbianbenhanscom]

8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 29 and 30? i'm sorry, it's just that many of them look interesting

thank you so much for the ask!!! :D

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

That’s hard because it like depends on my mood and the fic. Like. But the ones that I really like are Richie and Billy, but Stan, Eddie, and Steve are also pretty easy.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

Uh… Ben. Lol. I get stuck in my head trying to figure out who Ben is canonically vs the Ben that I like vs the Ben that people want, which is why I haven’t written more with him. But I need to get over it. Ben is so good and needs more love.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

Dramadeys (drama/comedy). Like all the shows/books I’ve written fic for have had a lot of trauma in the stuff I like, but I also need to be able to laugh in it, lol.

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

Lately I’ve been writing a lot around like death and traumatic incident anniversaries, but I also like to write stupid little fluff pieces. Granted, the fluff pieces always end up having some sort of Feelings, but sometimes I manage mostly fluff lol.

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Yeah. I wrote a platonic Steve and Billy thing, and it’s honestly so good. I kind of want to do more with it, change it a little, and maybe make it less platonic, lol, but it’s so good.

I also wrote something with mom death and cancer, and while it’s like. Not done well kudos wise, I needed to write it and I think it’s one of the best things I’ve written.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

Yes. Lol. I like to make characters go through shit and then take bubble baths in the middle of the night with their partner and cuddling, and yeah. I can’t write fluff without feelings, and I have only once written feelings without fluff, but I have fluff planned for someday lol.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

Right now I’m really excited about a Stranger Things/Skeleton Twins au. I’m like changing SO MUCH but. Basically. I’m following the Skeleton Twins storyline with somethings different.

I’m gonna answer the rest under a cut because it involves suicide and like a creepy student/teacher relationship.

y’all can send me more questions!!

Basically, Billy and Max are twins. Billy’s parents are their parents. Neil is still the abusive asshole he is in the show. Their mom killed herself before the start of the fic.

The story picks up after Billy attempts suicide and Max comes to get him to come back to Hawkins so she can help take care of him. She’s married to Lucas (but like is cheating on him with random dudes because self sabotage is strong with the Hargrove family).

While he’s there he meets up with his old teacher/love interest, but like it’s complicated. In the Skeleton Twins, Billy’s character Milo didn’t have a love interest, but… I’m ridiculous and always love harringrove and love The Feels so… Basically, Billy’s old teacher is Steve’s dad. When Billy was 15, like right after his mom died, a teacher tried to start up a relationship with him, but it ended early, and it led to Billy and Max drifting apart. Billy doesn’t know Steve is Rich’s son because Steve lived with his mom as a kid and hardly came to Hawkins. He knows Rich has a son, but he thinks he’s a little kid, not someone his age.

The day after Billy gets back to town, he wanders around, and finds Rich (Steve’s dad), and they have an argument which is basically just Rich telling him to leave. Upset, Billy goes to a gay bar and hooks up with Steve because they are both new and town, and the only two gay dudes who showed up on Dyke Night. (and let me tell you, this whole bit was so fun to write ahahah)

Then Billy tries to talk to Rich again, but this time Rich is more receptive and they plan to get together.

At some point Neil shows up. He’s like a new age cult leader (think John Lenon), and he’s still him, but he’s good at hiding it in front of his followers. He’s still married to Susan, but he’s more abusive towards her, but we don’t see this, it’s just implied. There’s a fight, and even though Billy and Max are often at odds, they support each other here.

That’s what I have written, but planned I’m thinking Billy is going to go to Rich’s, Rich is going to freak out because Steve is there and he’s afraid Steve will find out about him, because Steve knows nothing.

There’s some nice moments with Max and then they get in a fight about Rich. The next day, Billy and Lucas are hanging out and Billy tells Lucas that Max is secretly on birth control (basically) even though they are trying to have a baby. It leads to Lucas confronting Max and it’s bad. Then Max finds Billy in the yard and they get in a HUGE fight, and Max says something Seriously Fucked Up, so Billy leaves. He goes to Rich’s even though he knows he shouldn’t because he doesn’t know what else to do, but then it gets fuzzy.

In the movie they just talk and also get in a fight, but like this… Steve is here.

I’m thinking Steve answers the door, sees a very upset Billy, but they are both like ??? And then Rich comes down and EVERYTHING comes out. Eventually Steve and Billy leave because Billy clearly needs to be not alone, and Rich’s house is out.

They don’t do anything but talk and probably cuddle because our boy is touch starved and sad, so ofc he’s going to wanna cuddle.

The next day on his way out of town, Max calls Billy basically saying goodbye in a way that mirrors Billy’s own suicide note. He rushes to find her and saves her.

It ends with them continuing to live together to like get the support they need and to start healing. Steve is there somewhere, but in the background. It’s going to be so good.

[queerlyhalloween]

Not to sound like the joker™️ but i hate western society. I know that hair and clothes aren't gendered, so do most of my mates, ive been working hard at unlearning the internalized transphobia that's just a part of being trans in the UK and actually ALLOWING myself to think about going on hormones and dressing in ways other than "ambigious as possible" despite the fact im non-binary

i grew myself a little mullet because ive not been working in the pub and wanted solid snake hair, ive allowed myself to look at my face and the long hair around it and not despair because i know that longer hair doesn't make me a woman, but the moment you go into a shop, or get takeaway or pass by people in the street its all "move out the way of this lady!" and "thank you, ma'am"

i dont want the gender option of 'other' on my ID i want to know 1 good reason why gender should be listed on an ID in the 1st place

ive just come back from the range and i had my hair up like some e-thot fuckboy, i had to go BACK to the range because they got my click and collect order wrong so ive got two members of staff looking over my order, im dressed in black jeans and a black masc-looking ripped shirt, mask covering half my face and as the manager's showing the kid who served me the receipt they go "oh I served that guy earlier" and the manager corrects them "its a lady". I say "im niether" and they both just stare at me like im a toddler. Im already panicking because the air feels the same way it did when some cunt came after me in the pub toliets. "dont worry about it :)" i say, they both turn back to the tills and completely ignore me.

Anyway, micro-aggressions, ive experienced a lot of them for many reasons over the course of my life and today ive decided to snap.

Not at the people in the range like, just in general.

I will never pass. That's just an element of trans euphoria i will never get to experience. Not right off the bat, anyway. Not where i live, and most likely not in my lifetime. Maybe for kids in LA or Brighton, and hey power to you guys man im happy for you, but people assume or guess m/f when they look at me and they will never get it right.

So when i see people on this site try and twitter etc rank "who's the most oppressed"™️ like a godamn smash bros tier list it blows my mind because of all the things you could spend your days doing thats what youre expending energy on?!

You could be the exact same age, race, sex, gender, sexuality, you could have the exact same disabilities, mental health conditions and money in your bank as another person on this site and you'd still never understand what they've been through. Our experiences, our families, our morals and lives are always gonna be different and the moment you try to write definitive rules on whose got it worse you've already lost and you're already wrong. Oppressed classes are not a fucking hivemind and pretending they are is only going to cause you more problems. I get the strong sense that some of you looked at the word intersectionality, went "ah yeah, i know what that means" having never read up on the matter, then proceeded to play the pain olympics.

And its creating a culture where kids feel the need to spills their souls online to justify living their lives!

You've not listed your disabilites in your bio so you're able-bodied. You're Irish but haven't listed your race so you're white. You're cis man so you've never played with gender and suffered as a result. You're asexual so clearly you're a cringeworthy baby who's never experienced a wrong-doing in their life.

The reverse is true too, if you list every aspect of yourself then you're automatically honest. The more opressed you are the less likely you are of causing harm to others. Psht, don't have a carrd in this day and age? What are you, a fraud? cishet white man playing make believe? Post a selfie or face the wrath of ozymandaus. What's privacy? It takes me 3 minutes to read the bio on this discourse side-blog so clearly they're an angel.

my mam abused me for years, she did the same to my brother when i left home at 18 and my dad drank himself to death. My nan, his mother, never believed me because my mam's a disabled woman with a lot of trauma, and at 14 how do you explain to the woman who takes you to the beach that it's WORSE because as she's beckoning you to the side of her bed so she can scream point blank in your face, or hit you, you're never truely sure, you're thinking about running away because of course she physically can't chase you but she can throw. And then where would you go if you did buggar off?

"You have to sleep sometimes" she used to say to me when I'd piss her off. Other days she told me horror stories about kids in care, and disabled people having their kids taken away, made me promise that I'd always love her and always be her baby, and I'd do that for her because she's my mam, she'd be satisfied then ignore me for a while. I grew up thinking that was entirely normal until i'd tell funny family stories at school and nobody would laugh. The closest I got to truely running away was when I changed my name and pronouns and her rejection, turned to vitriol one night and I so, so, nearly held a knife to my throat and simply fell forwards in the uni showers. Obviously I didn't do that.

But she's had a shitter life than me thus far so she's in the right, as the online black/white dichotomy states. I keep her at arm's length but I'm unable to cut her away without losing the rest of my family because I dared defy the role of eldest child and care for her as I've done my whole life, as is expected.

we need to take things on a case by case basis, and learn when stuff is none of our business.

"Hey! :) I see you've reclaimed (X) slur, without submitting the proper paperwork. Real quick tell me every trauma you've ever experienced or I'll write a callout post :) delete this anonymous message (as is your right) and i'll assume you as sus ❤"

you can only call yourself a dyke if on your 13th birthday, the moon's tender rays struck you through your bedroom window and gave you your first wet dream about girls.

Great, cool. I have no interest in calling myself a dyke, i cant call myself a lesbian because it makes me dysphoric, thats why im queer, but i can assure you that when 3 kids from catholic school pinned me under the bridge and threatened to cut me open for being a "dirty dyke tramp" they didn't play 20Qs with me first to check that i was actually a lesbian.

if your first thought is "well thats just misdirected homophobia, so youre not ACTUALLY a victim" log the fuck off and consider what's wrong with you. Because all our oppressors care about is sniffing out the wrong on you and beating it out, they dont care what breed of wrong it is.

so you're going to spend your day, the enlightened adult that you are, frothing at the mouth because some 15yr old dared call themselves butch despite them being OnLY a BiSexUAl? You're gonna say that trans woman deserves to be suicidal because yes she may be trans BUT she's from the UK, so clearly she loves her horrid country and government. You're gonna say that black lad deserves racial abuse because he's trying to focus on his studies rather than go to protests. That 19yr old who's living in poverty deserves it because they work for Amazon. Texans deserve to freeze to death because there are republicans in Texas.

You're going to harass a complete stranger coming to terms with the parts of themselves society has taught them are worthless at best because they're not doing it the way YOU think is right.

This post has not ended where I started it but I really dont care:

Some of you are so fucking desperate to be the bullies you never got to be in secondary school and it shows. But you're cowards. You can't just admit you want to divide and concur so you do it in a new woke way and when your time on this earth is done, you'll have commited the same pain that's been dealt to you and wonder why you died miserable in a world thats more or less the same.

okay to reblog but dont @ me for a debate because i have, like, real problems and will just block you

[lovemesomesurveys]

How many best friends do you have? One.

Have you ever lied to any of them? Yes.

Are you more confrontational or avoid-problems-at-all-costs? I definitely avoid more than actually dealing with problems.

Are you pregnant? Definitely not.

When's the last time you screamed? I’m not really one to scream. 

Do you know any foreign languages? I know some Spanish.

What color is you bookbag? I don’t have a book bag anymore.

Do you own DC shoes or Etnies? Not currently, but I did in high school.

Who is your favorite teacher? My 4th and 8th grade teacher, Mr. McG. What about least favorite Two of the math professors I had in community college. They were horrible.

How many times have you read Twilight? I read each of the books just once.

Do you know anyone named Basil? No.

What perfume do you wear, if any? None currently. I haven’t worn perfume in awhile.

What was the last word you wrote down? I don’t recall.

Who did you see at lunch today? I’m not in school and I don’t have a job, but I probably won’t see my family here at home at lunchtime cause I’ll likely sleep through lunch.

Do you have a nickname? Steph and Sis.

Do you know anyone that spells their name the same way as you? I’ve known a few Stephanie’s that also spelled it the same way.

What are you doing this weekend? Nothing out of the ordinary.

How long have you had your myspace? Myspace died over a decade ago, but I had mine from like 2005 to early 2009.

Do you have AIM? AIM died as well back in 2017.

Is there a word that you just can't spell? Onomatopoeia is always a challenging one for me. <<<

Do you shop and K-Mart? Our K-Mart closed quite a long time ago. I don’t think there are any left now, are there?

Do you know your dad's birthday? Yes, he just had his birthday last weekend.

I say Ahoy, you say...? Arrr, matey? I feel like this is the only reasonable response. <<< lol yeah I got nothin’ else.

Where did you get the shirt you are wearing? Hot Topic.

Have you ever learned all the words to a commercial song? Yeah, several. That’s what those sneaky commercial jingles are meant to do.

How many piercings do you have? Just my earlobes.

Do you have good posture? *Me, currently sitting like a pretzel* Oh yeah.

Are you good with kids? Kids get overwhelming and can be annoying lol. I’m not around kids often, though.

What was the last thing you said? “Goodnight.”

What is the oldest someone has guessed you are? People guess I’m younger than I am.

What was your favorite movie as a kid? I’ve always loved Disney animated movies. <<<

What was the scariest thing that happened today? Nothing as of now. Hopefully nothing will.

Where did your parents get the idea for your name? My dad said there was some character on a show he liked in the 80s named Stephanie and he liked the name. When I was born, my parents both agreed that it was fitting for me.

Are you right or left handed? I’m right handed.

What is your favorite place to get pizza? It’s a local place. What is your favorite type of movie? Horror, psychological thriller, superhero, sci-fi and fantasy, action, adventure, rom-coms... I like variety. 

Name three things you want to do before you die. I’ve answered this a few times as of late.

Do you keep a journal or diary? You’re looking at it.

Have you ever had champagne? Yeah.

Do you wear lip gloss? I haven’t in several years.

Where did you get the shoes you have on? I’m not wearing shoes right now.

What color is your light switch cover? White.

When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up? I wanted to be a teacher.

What is the closest red thing to you? My hamper. Are you allergic to anything? Tangerines and seaonal allergies.

What was your mom's maiden name? I’m not sharing that.

Do you own any boxed sets of DVDs? I have a few I Love Lucy boxsets and one of The Dick Van Dyke Show.

What was your favorite Christmas present last year? All of them.

Are you planning on living anywhere besides where you live now? Someday, hopefully in the not so distant future. My family and I very much want to move.

Find the book closest to you. Turn to page 38. Type line 13. Nah.

What is your favorite fruit? Bananas.

Is your name Rebecca? Nope.

Have you ever worn pantyhose on your head? No.

Do you want to adopt kids? If so, where from? I don’t want kids.

How many pirates do you know? I don’t know any.

What has been your favorite age so far? Childhood ages.

Does it bug you when people use asterisks to show what they are doing? No. I do that sometimes. I did that in this survey, actually.

What are you going to study in college? I majored and got my BA in psych.

Do you have a dog? I do.

How about a cat? No.

What color is your hair naturally? Dark brown.

If you've seen the Twilight movie, did you notice Stephenie Meyer in it? Yeah.

Did you read Amelia Bedelia as a kid? Aw yeah, I loved those books.

What was the last song you sang? I don’t remember at the moment.

Have you ever been in a choir? In elementary school.

Quick! Think of a word that starts with M. Maruchan (my favorite ramen brand).

Do you like Chinese food? I like some, but it’s not my favorite. Like, it’s not something I crave or have often.

Do you own any Coach purses? Nope.

Who is your #1 myspace friend? --

What's the last thing you regret doing? Meh.

Do you have a good relationship with your parents? Yes.

Showers: morning or night? At night.

Do you wear make-up? I haven’t the last few years.

In your opinion, are interracial marriages ok? Um, yes?

Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal? I have a few that sit on my bed.

Do you say I love you to just anyone? No, I don’t throw those words around.

What color are your eyes? Brown.

Quote a line from your favorite song. I have a lot of favorite songs.

Are you homeschooled? I was briefly homeschooled in the 5th and 6th grade due to having to spend months recovering after surgeries. My 5th and 6th grade teachers actually came to my house a few times a week.

What are you trying to change about yourself? Nothing at the moment, though there’s a lot I should be working on.

How often do you check your myspace? I haven’t checked it in over a decade.

What embarrassed you today? Nothing so far, but it’s only 6 in the morning.

If you went to New York City today, what would you do? I wouldn’t want to go right now cause of the pandemic, but I’d love to go someday and see all the sights.

Have you ever considered colored contacts? No, contacts freak me out. I can’t bring myself to even try putting them on.

Do you have an accent? If so, what is it? Apparently we all do, but it’s weird for me, a Californian, to think of myself as having one. It’s not distinctive or recognizable. Like, I don’t think someone would know I was from here just from hearing me talk, ya know?

Coke or Pepsi? Coke.

Have you ever liked someone younger than you? Just by a year.

Who is the most embarrassing person in your family? Me.

Finish the sentence. I have lost my faith in ... Myself.

Does it bother you when people exaggerate? It depends. I know I can do that as well, though.

Have you ever hurt someone you love? Not intentionally, but yes. Who was your first celebrity crush? Aaron Carter.

Who will most likely repost this? @lovemesomesurveys, probably. Lol. <<< Yep! haha.

If you had to choose, would you rather be deaf or blind? That’s hard. 

Are you bored? No.

Do you wear your hair up or down? It’s always just up in a messy bun.

Off to find another survey, aren't you? Maybe. I’m tired, though. 

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

what are your thoughts on the skeleton twins

Hi! I finished watching it last night but desperately needed sleep after because I knew I had things to do this morning, and I also wanted to process it (sometimes I have to take some time to process movies, other times I just word vomit about them).

This is kind of long but I’ll add a read more later when I have the chance!

Anyway; The Skeleton Twins...I really enjoyed it! I went in knowing absolutely nothing except that Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig were in it and playing twins, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I think, given the two actors I mentioned, I was expecting pure comedy or something? But I was so blown away by the film and the performances they gave.

Obviously I love both Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig anyway but this movie really showed their serious acting chops. There were some funny moments too, of course, but they’re both really talented doing genres outside of comedy too, and it sometimes takes me aback when I see comedians do such a good job with non-comedic roles - then again, comedy is probably the hardest genre to pull off, and so it’s no wonder they’re both talented anyway. (I’m rambling, sorry!)

{below here I’m talking about themes related to mental health/suicide, and I can’t put a read more at the moment because I’m currently on my mobile - I will be putting a read more here when I get the chance later!}

I was so taken aback though because the film starts with Milo attempting to commit suicide and Maggie contemplating it, and I guess...it’s something I have struggled with, and so it really made my heart drop especially when I saw Milo in the bathtub and the water turn red. It doesn’t show him actually cutting but we all know what happened. Without going into too much detail, SH and mental illness is something I really struggle with, even though I’m slowly recovering these days - it never truly goes away though, you know it’s there even if you’ve gotten better and it’s something you learn to cope and deal with.

Honestly, I was sort of pleasantly surprised by how well the film portrayed mental illness and suicide with both the main characters. I felt at times I should have hated Maggie for cheating and lying to her husband but I also sort of empathized with her (not with the cheating, just the whole situation and being in a huge mess), and I think what made the film was the relationship between the two siblings because it’s so real and natural, especially if you consider the circumstances when they were younger. Their interactions as siblings was so believeable too, like sometimes you’ll watch movies with siblings and the siblings are all mushy or too at each other’s throats, and it’s unrealistic. They both feel so relatable and easy to connect to, though I suppose I am kind of more biased towards Bill’s character because he’s the reason I watched it (after seeing the clip of him dancing online - that was literally the only part I had seen before).

This is kind of dumb, but as I said, I thought they did a great job portraying depression and the aftermath of the suicide attempts? Like when Maggie was drowning herself and then panicked and tried to swim back up but couldn’t - I’ve heard stories of people who have survived jumping off of bridges or whatever, and they’ve said that after making that jump they instantly regretted it. I think that’s so accurate - it’s not glamourizing suicide either, like it would have been so easy to have her sink peacefully and be rescued without her wanting it and then realize what she’s doing but instead they showed the panic, the regret.

I think what especially caught my eye, however, was the fact that Milo was wearing bracelets on his wrists later in the film to hide his scars and like...? That is so relatable, that is something I do during the summer if it’s been one of those instances, I wear bracelets and wristbands and sometimes even tie a bandana around my wrist to hide it.

I don’t know if that’s just something I do/have done and I’m projecting, or if it’s because actual research/thought was put into it, but either way it was something that really stood out to me and made him more relatable?

I can’t remember the name of Milo’s ex teacher but he can get fucked for all I care. He took advantage and manipulated a teenage boy and I think that’s important to remember. It would be easy to just freak out because omg cute gay couple but to me I just saw it as a one-sided unhealthy relationship where one is manipulative and abusive to the other who feels like they need their love, and it’s kind of depressing - but then Milo basically says “fuck that” by the end, and it’s beautiful because it’s like he’s deciding “you know what, I deserve to be treated better” - and he does, he really does. Beforehand it felt (to me) like he allowed himself to be used and mistreated because he felt like that was the only way he could feel worthy, but then he grows and develops and I think that’s so important.

I think I should also briefly mention that the scene where Maggie tells Milo “maybe next time you should cut deeper” genuinely broke my heart for many reasons - because she’s so upset and her marriage is ruined and everything is a mess, so much so that she actually says that to him before immediately regretting it. And ofc I was so upset because that’s literally something your brain tells you when you’re depressed and suicidal/self harm, that maybe next time...yeah. You can see the flurry of emotions on his face as he processes what she said, like he’s in genuine disbelief that she - his own sister, his twin - said such a cruel and disgusting thing to him like that. It genuinely broke my heart to see, though I was glad they did eventually mend things between them.

Some other things I want to mention but don’t have the brain capacity to talk about properly because I’m exhausted and a dumbass:

The Marley and Me joke was so relatable omg, I read the more child friendly version when I was little but I had no idea the dog died and it broke my damn heart, so that little joke about Marley and Me was hilarious to me

Honestly I’m talking a lot about Bill Hader but I do truly adore Kristen Wiig too, like she’s probably one of the most diverse actresses who does all sorts of genres and projects - from voice acting to drama to SNL etc - and she’s incredible in this film.

Lance was a sweetheart and I feel sorry for him? Like he genuinely loved Maggie and was such a nice guy, and while some of the stuff he said wasn’t always helpful or correct, it came from a place of caring and that’s what matters. Also he was totally cool with his brother in law who he never met before coming and living in his house, and he even helped Milo get some work (even if said work WAS clearing brush away)

The scene where the twins go out and Bill Hader is dressed in drag is honestly a highlight of this movie

Actually the scene where he sees himself the first time in drag is also a highlight

The scene where the mother is making a long ass toast while everyone is waiting to drink their wine, and Maggie/Kristen Wiig just downs her glass before she’s finished is so relatable

Okay but there’s a scene where Milo goes to a gay bar looking for a lay and just...the night he goes, of course it’s fuckin “Dyke Night” (their words, not mine!) and then he comes home absolutely pissed and telling his sister and his brother in law that he just wanted “some c*ck”, omg I was laughing way too hard. Also let’s not forget that he said the two “lesbian ladies” he met were lovely and taught him to play darts, we love mlm and wlw solidarity!!

Well since we’ve already established I’m fucking trash for Bill Hader, let’s just include that moment where his character is shirtless (kinda) in bed

That scene where Maggie meets up with some woman she knew (in high school I think?) and that woman has a son, and the son is a little dick and the mom and the son are cussing at each other was a whole new level of hilarious I didn’t expect, like I was deadass expecting this chick to go on about how wonderful it is to be a mother even when he’s a dick to her, how it’s a great gift, but nope, she knows and even says he’s a fucking dick 😂

THE DENTIST OFFICE SCENE JESUS CHRIST I HAD TO PAUSE BECAUSE I WAS GENUINELY PISSING MYSELF WITH LAUGHTER?!

THAT DANCE SCENE AM I RIGHT, OMG, like he’s so cute and happy in that scene and then she joins in and it’s so dorky and fun??

I LOVE all the water imagery and shit, like maybe it’s just because I’m an absolute geek for swimming (it’s one of maybe three sports I don’t totally suck at??) and I love the cinematography underwater, whether it’s the skeleton key ring sinking or the scuba diving or Milo’s goldfish. So much wonderful cinematography and imagery!

This film has ultimately shown me that Wiig and Hader deserve Oscars and awards ASAP

Also this is just a general note to anyone reading, feel free to recommend movies to me anytime because I’m a cinephile and love getting to watch new films!

[iamnotbrianmay]

so tell me (why my gods look like you)

Poly!King Day 1: Maybe God is a Woman

This goes to the lovely @stayinqpower! I hope you like it love! 

☾☀︎

In hindsight, they should have realised the Brianna was different.

Back when they were kids, and they still called her by her birth name, every single quirk and oddity should have tipped them off. But instead, they just passed it off as Brianna being her odd self. The way that her hair would get caught in the light giving her a bizarre halo, or how animals tended to crowd around her like moths to the light. They should have noticed when Brianna seemed to know things that no five-year-old should or seemed to have answers to questions that not even their parents had.

But little Brian, as they had called her back then, was nothing but their strange friend. An intelligent and cheery kid who would always walk around with a smile adorning his face and leaves sticking out of his hair. It should have been easy to fall in love with him back then, but Regina later realises that maybe she hadn't wanted them to fall in love until she managed to get to her pure form.

Other lesser beings would have had trouble with the transition. But Brianna, their beautiful girlfriend with endless wisdom and power just willed it so once she realised that the form of a boy, of a male, didn't quite fit her. She didn't like that form, didn't like the fact that she had to keep her hair short, and that she would never be able to bear a child if she wanted to do so. So one day she was a boy named Brian, with angular features and form-fitting pants, and the next she was Brianna, their Brianna.

That should have been the first clue that she was not quite human. But at the time it just seemed so simple to Johanna. She had been seven, and the world is so much simpler when you are seven, and according to Brianna she just realised that she didn't want to be a boy anymore, not even if that's how her Mum had sent her to earth. Back then they had all agreed that boys were yucky and that was that.

Nobody dared to question that even if it was possible to change herself like that on earth, it shouldn't have been that simple. It wasn't like she could have been able to do it overnight, not in the sixties, not as a child. But nobody else seemed to find that weird, in fact, they seemed to be the only ones who remembered that Brianna had looked like a boy. To everyone else, it was just as if she had always been Brianna Hope May, not Brian Harold May.

Through the years, and as the four of them fell in love with each other, Brianna just grew weirder. She refused to let them meet her parents or let them go to her house. She would refer to God as her or as them, much to Regina and Johanna's parents' annoyance, and would often talk about things she shouldn't talk about as if they were unconsequential. Hence why, as soon as Freddie came out as a dyke to her parents, they prohibited ever talking to Brianna again, at least until she came to her senses.

Regardless, the younger woman always seemed to find a way to speak to Freddie, even if it meant sneaking into her dreams. Dreams in which the singer kicked, screamed and made havoc of whatever she could find and Brianna would just sit there in complete calm. "You told me God wouldn't hate me!"

Brianna tilted her head to the side, "They won't. Why would They hate you for loving someone?"

"Because I love girls, not boys. I don't understand why you can't see the problem, Bri! I'm in love with three girls, and that's not what God wants!"

At that Brianna scowls, and she has never seen her friend look as mad as she looks in that moment, "Oh please, girls are made to be loved, or else They wouldn't have created them."

And that is that. She never speaks about that again, not even when Freddie's parents let her out of the house, with no qualms about letting her see Brianna again.

In the same peculiar manner as everything with Brianna happens, they only meet her dad the day he dies. Brianna looks— well, her face is devoid of any emotion, and while all the people around her cry and mourn, she just sits on the chair, hands folded neatly into her lap and eyes staring ahead. After the ceremony ends, their guitarist is still left to sit staring forward, and nobody dares to move her, nobody has the heart.

Regina kneeled in front of her, lacing their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her head, "We'll be there for you."

"I know that," Brianna licks her lips, "Just as I know he is with my mother now. I just wish he would have held on for a little bit longer. I didn't want him to leave me alone just yet."

Her three lover's hearts had broken then; their guitarist sounded so small, so lost. They wanted to tell her that everything was going to be alright, that she wouldn't have to worry about being alone because she had them; but none of them even knew how to say this without hurting her more than she already was. So they simply held her to their chests as she stared at the casket almost as if she were lifeless.

What none of them notice, and none of them ever would, was Brianna's mother. In all her glory, with her silk robes, unruly hair, kind eyes, and the warmest smile possible. She grabbed her lover's hand and helped him stand up, then took him to Heaven with her. Brianna watched, eyes meeting with her mother for a fleeting second, before the woman smiled, "This is your Heaven now, I'll make sure of that."

Brianna bounces back from her grief after a few weeks, melancholy still follows her around, but she doesn't seem like a living dead any longer. However, she does pray more often now, mainly because when she does, she gets to hear her parents. She had always loved them fervently, in every single reincarnation and through the aeons. Being left alone on earth at nineteen doesn't change that.

What does change is the fact that for the first time in the thousands of years she has been alive, Brianna falls in love. It's slow but steady, and after three years of being alone on earth, she is madly in love with the three other women. Sure, she had liked people before, she had fancied Kings and been the mistress of many Queens and had slept around enough to ensure that there was enough lineage from the gods to last a forever. But she had never fallen in love.

Not like she loved the way that Freddie would wake her up peppering her face with kisses. Or how Johanna would kiss her nose and scold her for walking around the flat in skimpy pyjamas. Or how Regina would snuggle up to her side and ask for stories of the old gods, listening intently and then falling asleep on her chest. She had never fallen in love like this, and she was scared.

Her mother only snorted when she confessed her deepest fears. The dread that came with thinking that after this life she would never see her loves again. The anxiety-inducing thought that she might have to live without their kisses, without their laughs, the hugs, the jokes, the sex, the— everything.

"Sometimes you are ridiculous," her mother scolds her, "It makes me remember why I haven't given you the keys to Heaven yet. You won't lose them, child. After all, Gods can only fall in love once."

That night when she gets in bed, all of her lovers curl around her, claiming that Brianna works as a personal heater in times of great cold. The older girl just smiles, and nuzzles into Johanna's hair, taking in her sweet apple and cinnamon smell, "I just talked to my mother."

It had taken a long time for them to understand and come to terms with Brianna's parentage. They had had to meet God herself to fully believe their lover, and even sometimes they forgot that when they prayed, she was always there to answer. Only to them, of course, she was after all a capricious woman.

Freddie pressed her lips to Brianna's neck, "Yeah, what'd she say?"

"Gods only fall in love once, which means that you will have my heart forever, and I'll be able to have yours if we wish to stay together until the ends of time." She whispers it into the silence of the bedroom like she might be scared that they will not accept her offer if she says it any louder.

"And after that?" Freddie runs a finger down Brianna's cheek, "What happens after the end of time?"

Brianna smiles, "We restart, just that you'll be mine from the beginning."

Regina, from where she is laying on top of Brianna's chest, nuzzles into her collarbone, "I can do that. I can be with the three of you until the ends of time."

Brianna releases a breath she didn't know she was holding and that night makes sure that they are snuggled together as tightly as she can manage.

Until the end of time doesn't seem enough.

[supergirlspurgatory]

Do you want to know the difference between a good parent and an emotionally abusive bad one?

I’ve recently moved home after being away for about 4 years. which means that I’ve been spending a lot more time with my parents. Now, I should state for the reccord, my parents are not divorices, the deal is actually that my biological mom died when I was 12 years old. Then when I was in high school, my math teach saw that I very badly need a positive female influence in my life, and she became who I call mom now and refer to her husband as my step-dad. I am very lucky. When I was 20, my dad remarried to a woman, who frankly is horrible. She’s rude and crass, manipulates and lies whenever she has the chance. Honestly’ I could probably spend an entire day writing a strongly worded essay about how horrible this woman is. Alas, I shall not do that. Instead I’m just going to tell you a story of something that happened a few weeks ago. 

It was my dad’s birthday, so being the newly returned good daughter that I am, I asked him if he and his wife would like to come to town and I would take them to dinner for his birthday. After some discussion, he agreed. As we were at dinner, we were talking about some different things, and the topic of some home improvement project or another. And I made the comment that I’d be happy to help him and that he’s lucky to have his big dyke daughter home again to help with these things. Now that’s as far as the topic should have gone. I should have made the joke about being his big dyke daughter, we both should have alughed, and we should have moved onto a new topic. No harm, no foul. 

However, that is not how the conversation went. Instead his wife jumps in and say, “Don’t say stuff like that, your father doesn’t like it.”

Now this is big news to me, because I have been refferring to myself as a dyke and butch and other terms that could be considered a little duragotory for the last several years since I finally decided to own my sexuality. I love who I am. I Love that I’m butch, I love that most of my clothes are out of the men’s section. I love that I can do a man’s job no problem. I love that I can lift and move a lot of weight. Shortly after I moved home, we were talking about my size and my dad’s wife was being a little rude about it, and my dad looked at her and said, ‘Sometimes, you just need a woman who can eat some hay and pull a plow.’ It’s a joke about how a big woman is going to be a lot more use to him than some scrawning weak gal, who only eats salads. I was not bothered by this sentiment at all. Of course, I have had times in my life that I wished I were a perfect size 4. But overall, being a size 14, is not a thing that bothers me. I’m strong as an Ox and that’s far more important and beneficial to me than being able to walk into any store and buy a bikinni that looks perfectly on my body ever will.

Now all that being said, it was news to me that my father had an issue with me saying that I’m a dyke. He has never ever said a bad thing about it. When I came out to him when I was 18, he was very kind about it. When I introduced him to my first serious girlfriend he was accepting of it. I never once thought that my father had a problem with me being gay.

So I looked at her and said, ‘Are you trying to suggest that my father, who has never been anything but kind and accepting of my sexuality has a problem with me being a lesbian?’

She said, ‘No, I’m saying he has a problem with you calling yourself a dyke, and feels like it’s his fault that you turned out the way that you turned out.’

I looked at my dad for a moment, and could see on his face that it honestly wasn’t true, which I knew without checking because he and I have had many long conversations about it.

So rather than trying to talk to my dad about it, I looked at his wife and said, ‘Do you have any idea how long I’ve been gay?’

‘Well the last several years is all I assume, since you met your first girlfriend (who she met).’ was her response.

Boy was she in for a lesson.

‘No Shelley, that’s not how long I’ve been gay. I was gay in the first grade. I just didn’t realize it until about a year ago that the first grade is when it really manifested. Though honestly I’ve always been gay. But in the first grade is when I first fell in love. With a little girl named Morgan. She was my best friend. I held her hand when we were in line together. I was there when she first got sick, I was there to catch her blood when her nose poured with it. I was ther when they told us that she had lukemia. I was more affected by it than any one else in my class. She was who I was always partnered up wih for school assignemnts. I spent over a year refusing to take a new partner because she might be in school the next day. I was heart broken at the end of thrid grad when I found out she passed away. So you know, I’ve always been gay.’ that was the way I choose to start informing her that I’d always be the way that I am.

She looked at my dad, and asked, ‘Is that true?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘She really did love Morgan, I guess I didn’t realize it until now though.’

And so I looked at his wife again and I said, ‘And something else, when my mom took me to go back to school shopping the summer before 4 grade, I refused to shop in the girl’s section. I didn’t want pretty pink things and dresses. No. I insisted on buying all my clothes out of the boys sections. Jeans and shorts, t-shirts with Harry Potter and trucks and stuff on them. In fifth grade my parents had to fight me to to get me to wear anything other than bib-overalls and construction boots. And another thing, in the second grade, I would go out to the garage in my pajamas with dad to learn how to change oil in our vehicles, I would crawl around every project he was doing. I have always been my dad’s big dyke daughter, and I assure you, if he had a problem with it, I would not be sitting at this table having dinner with him. Not only that, but he knows without a doubt that I am who I am because it’s just who I am. I was never interested in girly things, I always wanted to play in the dirt and work on cars and do home improvement projects. It’s no one’s fault that I turned out this way, and especially not his.’

My dad simply said that he agreed with me and told me that he loves me for who I am and would be foolish to try and change me.

So the difference between a good parent and an emotionally abusive on is the difference between my dad and his wife. My dad’s wife is not comfortable with who I am. She hates that I am gay. She things that it’s disgusting a deviant. It bothers he, and if my dad didn’t love me so much she would have probably managed to manipulate him so hard by now that he would have nothing to do with me. Shetakes every opportunity she can to try and manipulate the situation is such a away that she can emotionally abuse me enough that I will be convinced that my dad doesn’t actually love me and accept me for who I am.

But the jokes on her, because my dad knows me better than anyone else and I know him better than anyone else. I’ll never walk away from my relationship with him. He and I got into a huge fight this winter and didn’t talk for just over two months, we both HATED it. It was miserable on both sides, and we promised that we would never let our relationship disolve to that point again.

[avalindin]

Tales of the Naughty Sugarplums

Tale 4: Krumpus

P.S.: If you haven't seen Filth, know that Bruce is a textbook of piece of shit.

_____

Previous Chapters: Hiddleston | McAvoy | Adam

Scotland.

Your first trip abroad and first holiday away from the family. It was lonely but the company of the police station was plenty cheerful. It was fine but you don’t even know how you got there.

Fine, you knew.

Your cousin was under the weather and rather than spending the night alone with her, she heavily insisted that you go to her workplace’s party and sure, at first you were weary. You were going to a strange party in a strange place in a strange town but Edinburgh was quaint and you knew how to take care of yourself.

You arrive safely at the station and are welcomed with open arms. You converse with the local authoritative people and their family members and enjoy yourself. The music never stopped and you could say that you were filled with pure holiday spirits.

“Hi there. That Gran’s sweater is working for you.”

You turn your head and smell the bitter stench of a bad night on someone’s breath.

“The fuck? Who are you supposed to be?”

You cover your mouth and take a step back. You aren’t sure whether to laugh or be disgusted with the man that staggered his way next to you. He straightens himself out and smiles. His smile makes you pull the lapels of your sweater closer together.

“Bruce Robertson, DI. Again. You’re Mickey’s cousin. The dyke from down under.”

“I’m American.”

“My mistake. I thought all dykes spoke Austrailian.”

“Yeah and you smell like you came from Pittsburgh. You look like it.”

“What?”

Bruce lifts his arms to look down to his messy and disheveled ensemble. What neither he or you don’t see is his drink that sloshes on the front of your dress. The dress didn’t exactly mean that much to you but the stink of the whisky and the shocked faces of the guests nearly made you lose your cool.

“Oh, shit! I am so sorry.”

You turn from the party and barricade yourself in the small restroom you found downstairs. In the small time you’ve been on vacation, it was the first time you wanted to go home. You hold back your tears and do what you can to wipe off the whisky.

The door thunders open behind you, scaring the life from you as you meet Bruce’s eyes.

“Look, I am so sorr… Shit, woman. You’ve been hiding an Ashley Graham under that monstrous sweater?”

You were always a big enough girl and were happy with what you had but in that moment, you felt riddled with insecurity. You turn with anger in your eyes.

“Why are you such a fucking prick?”

“Hey,” he shouts as he tries to shield himself from you, “if it’s a fucking prick you want, all you had to do was ask!”

Your palm grabs your shoe and hit him harder as he backs away from the restroom.

“I’ve only been here a few days and I can see why no one fucking likes you!”

You storm from the basement and out the front door, fixing your shoe as you make your way home through the falling snow. You are so mad that you not only realize that you left your sweater at the police station and that you were hopelessly lost in your anger.

You force yourself to remember where you are and try to carry on with a group of drunken men whistling at you.

“Hey Darling!”

You look over your shoulder as one of the men starts almost starts into a jog towards you. This was going to be their mistake until a police car skids safely between you and the group of men. The moment is ruined as Bruce stumbles from the car with his badge upside down in hand.

“Alright, you fuckers. Get lost before I tie you up to my bumper by your pricks and go for a fucking joyride.”

They back away slowly and flick him off as he does the same to them.

“Go back to your mums’ tits, fucking wankers. Here.”

He throws your sweater into your face without looking in your direction. You only stand confused.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Let’s go.”

“You’re drunk. I’m not getting in a car with you.”

“We all drive better piss drunk now get in the fucking car. Mickey will worry if she hears about this.”

You pull on your sweater and get into the back of the car. Bruce huffs his breath a single time and sends the car wheels spinning. True to his word and his hiccups, he drives well enough that would impress your mother until he jerks the car to a stop in front of your cousin’s home.

“Thanks, officer,” you mumble as you leave Bruce in the car.

“Yes, you’re welcome. See what happens when manners matter.”

“Go away.”

“The streets are too dangerous at night. I’m staying until you are inside and safe.”

“It’s creepy.”

“It’s the gentleman thing to do.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Holy shit. Was that an actual apology?”

You wait on the top step for your cousin to answer but as time and the cold get to you.

“She has a key in the back. Have a good night.”

You hurry to the back with Bruce behind you. You look for the key with his help.

“Look, ah fuck. I’m sorry for how I acted towards you. I’ll recently been reminded how being unkindly isn’t the best way to go about life.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve had the same talk. It is fun when it is.”

“Found it.”

Bruce raises from the base of the stairs with the key in hand. He takes a single step and slips on a small patch of ice. He falls forward. You catch him before he falls face first on the stone steps. When he finds his footing, you feel his eyes burn into you.

“Thank you. You’re strong for a woman of your size.”

“Thank you? I have my moments.”

“I’m sure you do.”

You feel the tension as thick as the ice he just slipped on. You’ve heard so many stories about him to make your skin crawl but you didn’t seem to care in that moment. You hand drifts to the front of his pants and squeezes the life from him.

A groan falls from his throat that plasters a devious smile to your face.

“Fuck, woman...”

“Yeah, that is still fun.”

Just as you are about to let him go, his hand covers yours and you can feel his hard cock grinding against your hand. This was going to be fun as long as your were careful. There were some stories that weren’t as pretty as him.

You pull your hand away and watch Bruce contain himself beautifully.

“Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack, woman?!”

His face was as red as his eyes as they burned into you. That how you liked them. You pulled your hand from your pocket and Bruce sees the condom between your fingers. You flick it at his chest.

“It’s a season of giving and I can’t give you what you already had.”

You pull the top of your dress apart and lift the hem to show him what you are willing to offer.

“Fuck...”

“Tell me what you want for Christmas, Bruce.”

He doesn’t. He only shreds the foil and rolls the condom on in one flick of his wrist. You stay still as he stops and glares to you. You take a step back and wait until it become painful. The moment was exciting while it lasted. Your eyes roll.

“Fine. I’ll just go inside and fuck myself.”

Before you can turn, Bruce lifts you from your feet and has your legs separated over the sides of the freezing metal railings. You hold onto his arms as he hunches under you and fills you with one try. He chuckles when he hears the faintest whimper from you.

“Shit,” he grunts as he slowly has his way with you, “you’re not so tough once you got a good cocking in you.”

His teeth nip at your skin, sucking wildly as his mouth moves lower. You push yourself up from the back door to ease the rough sounds of the creaking wood. Your cousin was a heavy enough sleeper and you didn’t want to find you as you were now.

“Do you ever stop talking,” you pant.

“Honestly, I’d rather hear that beautiful voice screaming my name.

He pulls out of you and pulls your from the railing. He shoved you face first into the door and kicks your feet apart.

“Do us a favor and stick out that lovely arse for me.”

You can hear his hand as he works it up and down his cock. You look over your shoulder to the wickedness in his eyes. His hand slaps at you to make you jump.

“I said put your arse out before I tear this perfection to shreds,” he slowly hisses into your ear.

You brace the door and bend over slightly. His hand is slow, lifting the dress up and over the curve of your bottom. He hums in approval. His fingers play with the edge of your panties until he starts to teasingly stroke you.

“You should not be ashamed, woman. The bigger the berry, the tastier the juice. Stick it out more for me.”

You back your feet further and feel the cold sting your legs. He kneels behind you, toying with your lips as he kisses the back of your thigh.

“Fuck.”

You gasp as he spreads you further and presses his tongue to your panties. Your hips rock back for more friction. He chuckles.

“If you wanted more,” he whispered as his finger hooked to the bottom of your panties, “all you had to do was ask and good ole Krumpus would have answered.”

His tongue fills you, slowly tastign and flicking away at you as you claw into the door. His hands hold you steady and wandering your body as you still rock back. Clouds of steam rise from between your legs from Bruce’s mouth as he nibbles on you. You fall against the door. The cold isn’t bothering you anymore. The snowy wind whips your hair and you hld out for as long as you can.

“Please,” you force as you finally give in.

Bruce pulls himself away as you see him lick his lips. He collects what is left on his and sucks it slowly from his finger.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Please.”

“I fucking heard that. You’ll tell me what you want or I’ll have to make you suffer, Darling.”

He waits, tracing his finger to your wet sex. You whine as his finger pushes into you, slowly fucking you as you turn your face into your arm.

“Just say the word, woman, and I will fuck you until you are breathless. I’ll even put you back in your place if you want...”

His finger goes faster, adding a second as he makes sure you feel every inch of his fingers.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Don’t stop...”

“Is that all,” he whispers into your hair, “I got a wrapped package right here and waiting for a good girl to open but she won’t even admit that she wants it for herself, like the greedy cunt rocking on the end of my dripping fingertips.”

Faster and faster, his fingers make you melt. You can only imagine how you look, half naked and stuck on a stranger’s fingers. You open your eyes to the fucking dirty smirk on Bruce’s face. You know he’s only getting harder from making you squirm.

“Fuck me.”

“What was that?”

If it wasn’t midnight, someone would have heard him from the other houses and saw the indecency as fingers fucked you so quickly that his palm was slapping against your wet cunt.

“Fuck me, Officer. Please just fuck me.”

He pulls his hand away and holds your hips out.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

He pistons his hips back into you, taking the breath away from what you sure would have been a scream of pure bliss. You push both palms up to the door, countering in rhythm to meet his thrusts as he slams into you. His hand pulls you up by your throat so that your moans are no longer hidden. Once he’s satisfied, the hand moves down to the front of your dress as his cold hand gropes the life from your full breasts.

“Let’s see if you truly deserve your gift.”

He gives your nipple a quick pinch as your whole body jolts. He grunts as you tight around him from the pinch.

“Oh, I’m gonna get every bit of juice out of you.”

His fingers, his cock doesn’t stop as he fucks you wildly than you could have dreamed. There was a few strong strikes of his hand to your bottom. There was his teeth that dug into your neck as the growls themselves made you want to come around him but there was still something you wanted.

One of your hands reaches behind you and grabs Bruce by the back of his neck to pull him forward. He is already ahead of you as his lips press to yours. His wicked tongue passes your lips and tangles with yours.

You are nearly gone as his fingers wrap around your leg and lifts it to the railing to hold you completely open. His fingers toy painfully with your clit and you can no longer hold yourself together. You head spins as you come around him. Bruce holds you up and open, grunting like an animal as he fucks you faster through your orgasm.

You hold the both of you up as he shudders into your ear. Bruce takes low and frighteningly even breaths. His fingers dug carefully into your flesh as you are both still.

Bruce is the first to move. He helps your leg down, waiting to move until you are steady on your own two feet. Then he pulls out of you and kisses your skin before sluggishly fixing your clothes. He pulls you from the door and embraces you.

“Thank you,” he whispers as he steps back to fix himself, “I really did need this.”

You stop his hand and do it for him as you feel him get harder in your hand.

“You evil wench, I didn’t need that.”

“Think of it as a present to use for later. You may just miss me.”

“Yeah,” he smiles as he smells the long fingers he was fucking you with, “I may just.”

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you towards him. His tongue doesn’t try to tease you and his hands stay glued to your side to hold you perfectly still. The kiss is so simple that you don’t want it to end but he pulls the key from his pocket and presses it in your hand.

“Merry Christmas, you fucking tease.”

“Bye Santa,” you giggle.

“Krumpus,” he laughs as he backs down the stairs.

“What?”

“Krumpus. He steals the bad children and beats the sacks they’re in with rods.”

“Huh.”

Before he disappears around the side of the house, his hand reaches through the railing and strokes enough up your leg to make you want him.

“If I had my way, I’d use that rod on that arse to make you beg me to take you.”

“All you have to do is ask. It’s not waiting for anybody.”

He smile widens as he pulls his hand away.

“You are some fucking trouble. I’m gonna keep in touch through Mickey.”

“I’ll be waiting. Hopefully you get to America before I chose to sit on another cock.”

He rubs himself so that you can see.

“Keep telling yourself that and good luck with replacing your fingers with mine. Merry Christmas!”

He disappears down the alley as he goes back to his car.

“Fucking prick,” you moan as you feel a bit of wetness down the inside of your legs.

You use the key and shut yourself away into the lonely, warm house and force yourself not to go out the front door after him.

[obsessivesarcasticgayliving]

Don’t tell me no!

tw: homophobia, xenophobia, neo-nazi talk at the end (spoiler they get punched)

Alex Danvers has a history of making what some would call risky and/or incredibly dangerous situations.  A long history in fact.

For instance, all throughout high school she spent many days sitting outside the principal’s office. For what? Well for fighting of course. She couldn’t figure out what her parents expected of her, or rather her mom anyway. Eliza told her, ordered her to take care of and protect Kara.  So, what exactly was she supposed to do? Sit back and watch another popular douchebag or bitch try and hit her sister and then wince in pain. After all, her parents had pounded into her the importance of keeping Kara’s identity and abilities a secret. So, she did what she had to. She would walk up to the person terrorizing her sister grab their arm and push them back.  She may have learned advanced survival and defensive skills through DEO training but that wasn’t the first time she’d learned to defend herself.  She always heard Kara in the background shouting Alex no, stop. You’re gonna get in trouble. But she didn’t care. It was her job to protect Kara. If she got in trouble for doing that, well then at least she got to release some of her pent-up anger.

There were many other instances of these back and forth “Alex no/Alex yes” arguments. Sometimes they were between her head and heart. Like when she met Maggie.  The first thing she remembered feeling was the biggest desire to just be near Maggie. She wanted to talk to her as much as possible, learn as much about her as possible. She thought it was just because Maggie was a badass detective who loved motorcycles and aliens. So, when Maggie suggested that she was into girls, it was a shock to her system to say the least.  This exchange along with the conversations that followed involving Alex admitting that yeah, ok, yeah maybe she was slightly, a little bit, into girls. This admission took her to Kara. To whom she talked. And talked. And talked. Kara was 100% eager and ready to listen to everything Alex had to say. But when she heard Alex talking herself out of her new found sexual identity, she knew she had to put a stop to it.  Kara had to make sure that Alex stopped putting her life on hold. And she told her just that.

“Alex stop, listen to yourself. Just last week you came to me and told me what you were feeling-how you were feeling- about Maggie. You told me that you thought you liked her as more than just a friend. And, yes, it took me some time to understand what you were saying. But Alex, please don’t talk yourself out of how you’re feeling. You are the most amazing sister and you deserve to be happy and you deserve to love whomever you love. And if that’s Maggie great, she seems really nice. If it ends up being someone who’s not Maggie but still a girl that’s great too. Heck if it ends up being a guy that’s fine.  I just want you to be happy. So right now, all I want you to do is stop, think, and answer this question: what will make you happy? Because, if being with Maggie or any girl will make you happy then that’s who you should be with. It’s ok to let yourself be happy. And if anyone ever says anything negative about you for being with a girl, well then, I’ll just have to fling them into the sun.”

Alex stood staring at her sister, tears pooling in her eyes. Any words she could think of died before they left her lips. She wasn’t used to people fighting for her happiness, no matter how hard Kara tried. She wasn’t used to people telling her, yes, she can do something and the world won’t end because she does.

Then there are the times when she acts without thinking. Like when she decided to run in front of a bullet headed straight for Kara. Normally, she would merely cringe as the bullet bounced off her sister and fell to the ground. This time, however, Kara solar flared the day before. Alex couldn’t let Kara feel the pain of getting shot. She couldn’t stand there and watch a bullet rip through her sister’s skin.  Without thinking, she ran forward shoving Kara out of the way. Just as the bullet tore through the skin on her arm she heard Kara shouting her name. Alex winced but looked up from the ground and into Kara’s eyes.

Alex heard J’onn and Maggie take down the shooter but she returned her attention back to Kara. “Kara are you ok? Are you hurt?” Alex rushed out.

Kara starred at her sister mouth agape. She reached forward, pressing her hands steadily against the whole in Alex’s lower stomach.  Her eyes meet Alex’s again, the tears she’d been holding back spilling down her cheeks.  “Am I ok? Alex, you’re the one that got shot. You pushed me out of the way. Why’d you do that? You shouldn’t have done that.” Alex was losing more blood than either she or Kara realized. That fact was made abundantly clear, however, when Alex lost consciousness and was rushed to the DEO med bay for emergency surgery.

Kara was sitting up watching her when she woke up. She was groggy and her side hurt but she didn’t care. Kara was alive, unharmed, and sitting by her side.  Alex could tell that Kara was none too happy with her by the look on her face when she realized Alex was awake.   

Kara didn’t say anything for a while. She just sat there watching her sister breath, making sure Alex was truly alive.  Finally, she voiced the words that had been sitting in her mind since Alex pushed her out of the way. “Just because you’re my big sister and it’s always been your job to protect me, doesn’t mean that your life isn’t important too. It is Alex. And I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that Eliza would never forgive you if something happened to me and that you’re trained to take a bullet while I’m used to seeing them bounce off of me. Well, shitake mushrooms to that. I need you alive just as much as you need me. So, you need to start taking better care of yourself and your body. And you need to start listening to people when they say you shouldn’t do something.”

So, when Alex and Kara were out getting lunch one day and they ran into a homophobic, anti-alien, anti-anything except white people (especially white males), Alex was baffled. She did her best to ignore the man and what he was saying. She tried to ignore the fact that he thought someone should kill Supergirl and the rest of the aliens on earth. She tried to ignore the comments he made about how gay marriage should be illegal and that all of the homosexuals on earth should be killed. She tried her very best to ignore the incredibly rude man. What she couldn’t ignore, however, was how he repeatedly hit the ass of his server as she walked past him.  After the third time he slapped the waitresses ass, Alex was seething. The fourth time, found Alex standing so fast her chair fell to the ground. The fourth time found Alex making her way to the rude man. The fourth time found Alex grabbing the man’s right arm, forcing it behind his back and slamming his head into the table. The fourth time found Alex, whispering into the man’s ear about manners when he’s out in public. Whispering that touching anybody, male or female without their consent is inappropriate and illegal. Telling him that she was so happy that she was in love with a woman who was one hundred times the person he could ever hope to be. Making sure that he understood that the aliens that lived on earth had just as many rights as he did and that he should be thankful for them because they are doing the jobs no one else wants to do and they are being paid shit for it.

Alex drove home the point by pushing his head into the table a little harder and then releasing him and heading back to Kara. Alex heard him mumble under his breath and she flipped back around. She asked him to repeat what he’d said to her face so he did.

“I called you a dyke bitch. Hitler should have wiped your kind out along with the Jews” He seethed.  The next thing Alex knew, the man was lying unconscious on the ground and her hand was aching. Kara was by her side in a second guiding her out of the restaurant.

“Why didn’t you tell me not to do that,” Alex asked flexing her hand.

“Because he deserved it Alex. Heck he deserved so much more than what you did to him.”

Alex was in awe, it was one of her first experiences where no one, including herself, was there to tell her that she shouldn’t do something.    

[biofunmy]

Mel Brooks discusses career, HBO special, Anne Bancroft films

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Mel Brooks, seen here at he 2017 BAFTA Awards in London, is the subject of a new HBO special, ‘Mel Brooks: Unwrapped.’ (Photo: Facundo Arrizabalaga, EPA)

Mel Brooks has had an amazing entertainment career – from “Your Show of Shows” to “The Producers” to “Blazing Saddles” to “Young Frankenstein” – and he’s got the rare EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony wins) to prove it.

The writer-director-actor-producer discusses his life and legendary career in HBO’s “Mel Brooks: Unwrapped” (Friday, 9 EST/PST), a selection of interviews conducted over four decades with friend and former BBC creative director Alan Yentob. 

Brooks, 93, a U.S. Army veteran who served in Europe during World War II, also curated a newly released selection of his wife’s films, “The Anne Bancroft Collection” (Shout! Factory), including her Oscar-winning role in 1962’s “The Miracle Worker” and her unforgettable appearance in 1967’s “The Graduate.” Brooks and Bancroft had been married for nearly 41 years when she died in 2005. 

Brooks, who voices Melephant Brooks in “Toy Story 4” and Disney+’s “Forky Asks a Question,” spoke to USA TODAY about both projects, some daring film choices and his lifelong friendship with Carl Reiner.

HBO’s ‘Mel Brooks: Unwrapped’ features numerous interviews Brooks, left, has given to Alan Yentob, going back to 1981. (Photo: HBO)

Question: What will viewers learn about you in “Unwrapped”?

Mel Brooks: That there’s many Mel Brooks. There’s not just the devil-may-care, funny Mel Brooks, but there’s the feeling Mel Brooks, the touching Mel Brooks, the Mel Brooks who actually thinks about the world he’s living in and has some thought about how to behave in that world. That could be surprising because I rarely relax and actually become myself and in this one I do on several occasions. I’m happy that I was able to not just be funny all the time.

Funny friends: Carl Reiner: Why Van Dyke is the best, Trump the worst and Mel Brooks is a savvy movie critic

Q: You’ve used comedy and satire to discuss serious topics, but it doesn’t come without risk. What reaction did you get in 1967 to “The Producers,” the satirifc film that features the “Springtime for Hitler” fictional musical?

Brooks: Maybe over a thousand rabbis wrote to me. I was very careful about writing back to everybody who wrote about (it) being in such terrible taste for a Jewish kid. And I said if we get on a soapbox and try to orate like Hitler, we lose because he sweeps the lowest common denominator in feelings and intelligence. But if we can humiliate him with comedy, we win. Funny always wins.

Melephant Brooks: ‘Toy Story 4’ exclusive: Check out the four comedy legends joining Woody, Buzz and the gang

Nathan Lane, left, and Matthew Broderick starred in “The Producers,” a hit stage musical adaptation of Mel Brooks’ 1967 film of the same name. (Photo: Paul Kolnick)

Q: Along those lines, have you seen “Jojo Rabbit,” a comedy in which a young boy in Nazi Germany fantasizes a buffoonish Adolf Hitler (director Taika Waititi) as his imaginary best friend?

Brooks: I loved it. It was a wonderful movie. Perfectly plausible that the kid would be seduced by this larger-than-life character.

Q: Did you find the depiction offensive, as some critics have?

Brooks: Not at all. I thought it was terrific. There’s always those people who walk the line strictly and those who dare to cross the line. I was one who crossed the line as far as making fun of Nazis. I think I’m going to send (Waititi) a note to tell him, “Good job. Well done.”

Cleavon Little, left, and Gene Wilder starred in “Blazing Saddles,” a 1974 film directed by Mel Brooks. (Photo: Warner Bros.)

Q: You commented on the evils of racism in the 1974 Western parody, “Blazing Saddles,” but did you have concerns about using the n-word?

Brooks: I wouldn’t have been brave enough to use the n-word so many times, but Richard Pryor, one of our writers on the movie, insisted we just tell the truth. He said, “Don’t worry about it, Mel. You’re on the side of right. These are the bad guys using the word. Never the good guys.” That made a lot of sense.

Q: Why did you want to put together “The Anne Bancroft Collection,” which includes some of her less well-known films, including 1985’s “Agnes of God” and 1987’s “84 Charing Cross Road”?     

Brooks: She was a great artist. I thought we should show more of her work. We don’t see it enough. “The Pumpkin Eater” (1964) is a wonderful movie. She plays a woman suffering the breakup of her marriage. Nobody has really seen it and her work is astonishing. 

Q: The collection includes 1983’s “To Be or Not to Be,” a remake of director Ernst Lubitsch’s 1942 classic that you co-starred in and produced. Why did you make that film? 

Brooks: I never really found a great vehicle for my wife and I. And I said, what about “To Be or Not To Be”? Let’s salute Lubitsch, Jack Benny and Carole Lombard. Can you believe that was made (during WWII)? Talk about the courage of making fun of Nazis then. They could have killed them. 

Anne Bancroft, left, created a legendary film character, Mrs. Robinson, in 1967’s “The Graduate,” which starred Dustin Hoffman. (Photo: Embassy Pictures)

Q: After “The Producers” and “Young Frankenstein,” would you like to adapt any other films as stage musicals?

Brooks: I did a movie that a lot of people didn’t see called “Life Stinks” (1991). It was kind of prescient (about homelessness). There were people sleeping on sidewalks. These are human beings, cold and hungry. I think we did a good job pointing it out. I’m thinking that could be an au courant musical on Broadway and it could do what I do: Make it funny but make a point of saying something about the human condition.

Q: Why did you produce 1982’s “My Favorite Year”?

Brooks: To salute Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca and “Your Show of Shows,” which I wrote for nine years together with Larry Gelbart and Neil Simon, to mention a few heroes. That’s where we started The 2000 Year Old Man. (Reiner) came into the writers room with a tape recorder and started asking me questions: “I understand you knew Jesus. That you’re 2000 years old.” I became The 2000 Year Old Man and then suddenly there’s this incredible (album).

Q: In “Unwrapped,” you stop by Reiner’s house? Do you visit your friend, who is 97, often?            

Brooks: I see Carl two, three times a week. (Often) what happens is we watch a movie. And, we’re in the middle, it’s very exciting, right? And then he stops because it’s a commercial. He doesn’t want to hear it. Then he goes back and pushes the wrong button and we’re in a game show. But the funny part is that he goes right along with it. He says, “Come on!” He’s rooting for the game show! I say, “Carl, we were in the middle of ‘The Bourne Identity.'” He says, “Oh yeah, that’s right.” Then he goes back to the movie. But for a while, he just swings along with whatever’s on TV. Every day with him is a great gift and I appreciate it.

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New Post has been published on Cinephiled

New Post has been published on http://www.cinephiled.com/interview-robin-campillo-explores-work-act-paris-powerful-french-film-bpm/

Interview: Robin Campillo Explores the Work of ACT UP Paris in the Powerful French Film ‘BPM’

In Paris in the early 1990s, a passionate group of activists goes to battle for those stricken with HIV/AIDS, taking on sluggish government agencies and major pharmaceutical companies with bold, invasive actions. The organization is ACT UP — the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power — and its members embrace their task as a literal life-or-death mission. Director Robin Campillo (They Came Back, Eastern Boys), who joined ACT UP Paris himself as a young gay man, tells a riveting story in this film, BPM (Beats Per Minute), of how the ragtag organization helped bring about big changes.

In the Paris college classroom where the members of ACT UP PARIS meet to argue debate strategy and plan its protests, a newcomer named Nathan (Arnaud Valois) is attracted to one of the group’s most outspoken members, Sean (Nahuel Pérez Biscayart). Eager to push the limits in disruptive public confrontations, Sean grows testy and impatient with the more moderate approaches advocated by the group’s leaders, Thibault (Antoine Reinartz) and Sophie (Adèle Haenel). There is an urgency driving his radicalism — his health is more fragile than many of the other gay and straight activists. As the group scrambles from boisterous street demonstrations and boardroom face-offs to dance floors pulsing with light and rhythm, Nathan and Sean’s relationship deepens. As Sean gets sicker, their passion sparks against the shadow of mortality, and the community of activists plots its most dramatic protest yet. I sat down with Robin Campillo and actors Arnaud Valois and Nahuel Pérez Biscayart to discuss this moving film.

Danny Miller: I knew nothing about ACT UP Paris but I did know one of the founders of ACT UP Chicago, Dan Sotomayor, who died in 1992 when this film takes place. I’m sorry I didn’t get involved with the group at the time since I now really see the value of that kind of confrontational political action. Robin, having been a member of the organization, was this something you’ve long wanted to make a film about?

Robin Campillo: Yes. I have always wanted to do a film that touched on the AIDS epidemic but it took me some time to find the heart of what I wanted to say. I wrote some earlier scripts that I put away and more recently found myself thinking of this time in my life in the early 90s when I got involved with ACT UP. It was so not my personality to become militant in any way, but I was so angry and upset at the inaction at the time. I’ve always felt that the most popular political position is indifference. That remains a major problem in our society and it’s something that’s very difficult to fight against.

Do you think it’s because so many HIV-positive people were dying all around you that many people who never saw themselves as radical in any way became these courageous activists?

Yes, absolutely. Mobilization is always very hard to do, but you’re right, it’s because so many people were dying — we felt we had no choice. It’s very rare to have this political window where you can actually start to change things. ACT UP started here in the United States and we were very inspired by the American model. I was an editor for a TV news show and was editing a lot of stories about ACT UP. I heard the president of ACT UP Paris in one of these reports and was very impressed. And then, to be honest, one night I had this sex date planned very close to the place were ACT UP was meeting then, but the guy stood me up. I was upset about that and decided to go to the ACT UP meeting instead — which completely changed my life!

Wow, that’s the best story about being stood up that I ever heard!

(Laughs.) Many people in France at that time (and everywhere) were very afraid and intolerant of gay people, especially because of AIDS. So we decided to use that as a weapon. We would burst into all these events at different organizations and it was very powerful. Amongst ourselves we’d laugh at the effects we had on people — if they were afraid of us, we were going to make them even more afraid in order to make groups take action to help all the people who were getting sick.

I know this film is fictional, but I’m assuming if any character was based on you, it must be Nathan?

Yes, to some extent. Like me, Nathan is a newcomer, he’s shy, and he never thought he would end up an activist. And when Nathan is taking about his past in the film, it’s basically me. I actually wrote that text about 10 years ago for an AIDS conference, and I was very happy to put those words into Nathan’s mouth.

Arnaud Valois: And that was the only scene in the entire film where Robin said, “You have to say it word for word, stick to the text!” The only one.

Robin Campillo: It’s true. Of course, Nathan is much calmer than I was at the time. I really like my characters to have lots of contradictions, I’m not into archetypes that don’t really exist in the real world. I don’t make films because I completely know the characters, I make them because I want to discover the characters along with the audience. The first draft of the character that I write is never going to be the final character, I leave a lot to my actors.

That’s great — and what a lot of responsibility it gives to you, Arnaud and Nahuel. You’re both amazing in the film. Did you also feel a big responsibility to learn as much as you could about those times and the AIDS crisis?

Arnaud Valois: We read a book called ACT UP by Didier Lestrade, the first president of ACT UP Paris, we watched a lot of archival footage of the protests and some documentaries, but you know, Robin told us he did not want us to become experts on the subject — he wanted us to be like our characters, young and a bit naïve, and just go with the flow.

Nahuel Pérez Biscayart: I also watched this amazing documentary called Silverlake Life: The View from Here, from 1993 that was made by two HIV-positive guys who were filming each other and then one of them dies first and then the other. It was such a strong film — real-life first-person stuff about how the sickness really goes. For me, that was the perfect film to watch to understand what my character was going through, I didn’t watch any fiction films of the subject. Then, of course, it was just a matter of trust. I think a good director is someone who sees in you something that you may not be seeing. When you have that kind of trust, the energy just starts flowing, I didn’t just feel like I was playing a character, I felt like something bigger was happening.

I wasn’t there, obviously, but as an audience member, I had the feeling that the same kind of bonding that was happening within the ACT UP Paris group in the film was actually happening with the actors on the set.

It exactly was! Even though we were so different, each person in the cast was just so completely different from one another.

Robin Campillo: And that was the case in ACT UP, too. I wanted to recreate that energy and diversity, and that space and electricity that can happen between people. There’s such possibility when that happens.

Nahuel Pérez Biscayart: Some movies about real events think that they have the answers, that each character has the solution. Nobody gets lost in those films. But that’s not what this film is about at all.

After being in this film, do you feel like you’re more of an activist than you were before?

Arnaud Valois: More aware, that’s for sure, and more concerned.

There are so many analogies you can make to today when you watch this film, even apart from the AIDS crisis. I feel like we’re all being called on to become confrontational activists. Maybe we need an ACT UP Trump movement.

Robin Campillo: Sometimes it takes traumatic events to change a person. I remember reading this science fiction book when I was a kid that was about these aliens coming to Earth and some of the people on Earth really worked hard to learn the aliens’ language but then they discover that the act of speaking their language makes them actually become the aliens. That’s kind of how I felt in my life when I found ACT UP — I became someone different, a foreigner, a stranger to myself. And there was no possibility of going back to how it was before.

You could almost say it’s the other way around — that you were alien before and then you found your real self.

Maybe. But one of the things I love about cinema is that I think it can do that, too. A film can change you and make you feel like a stranger to yourself.

Does ACT UP Paris have an honored position in France these days? Or is the group dismissed as a bunch of troublemakers?

It was certainly not respected at the time by many people. It’s funny, though — to hear the discussions among people at Cannes when we brought the film there, you’d think that everyone loved ACT UP and that everyone was somehow involved with the group. All French people were in ACT UP like all French people were in the Resistance during World War II. No one collaborated with the Germans, right? It’s nice to make these claims now in retrospect but it’s just not true. Most were not on our side back then — we were just a bunch of fags and dykes and way too dodgy to be accepted at the time.

I love that this film does not rely on any of the stereotypes that many American films that touch on the AIDS epidemic do.

Nahuel Pérez Biscayart: Yeah, it’s a very unusual film compared to typical American cinema. Who are the main characters? You can go through half the film and not know. Who are the heroes? Who’s dying? Who’s in love with who?

The length of the film alone (2 hours and 20 minutes) would make American producers go nuts. Robin, did you get any pressure to shorten the film?

Robin Campillo: Not by my producers, but the programmer of Cannes called me and said they really loved the film but it was just too long so could I possibly cut it?

How did you respond?

I said, “Yes, I’ll try my best” and then we told him we cut seven minutes but in truth we only cut one! (Laughs.) They never noticed.

I wouldn’t have minded if it were an hour longer. I would have liked a whole film on Sophie, or the mother, or Thibault — any of those characters.

I love to think that when you see characters that they have an entire world of their own that we’re not seeing — that we don’t know them enough. Characters exist more like that in novels but in cinema, for some reason, characters are often ridiculously narrowed. Why do we have to do that?

I’m sure you’re aware of the horrific attacks against the LGBTQ community here since Trump took office. I assume it’s a much better situation in France right now?

I mean, Macron is not openly attacking LGBT groups, but he doesn’t really care, it’s not a subject he ever discusses. He really doesn’t know very much at all.

BPM (Bests Per Minute) opens today in Los Angeles and will be playing in select cities nationwide.

[vivikawidow]

“PLEDGE TIME MOTHER FUCKERS!”

Whoops, cheers and spilled drinks. A KAPPA SO party was well underway. The KSO chapter house was located just a short walk from the campus of FILTON UNIVERSITY. Like most nights at the CHAPTER HOUSE things were heating up. 

Chapter leader, BUDDY OWEN was pledging some new recruits. Most of them were sons of bankers, property developers, and politicians. The all had that in common – powerful parents. Famous names in the city like the financial giants BECKINGRIDGE and the WEIRS of WEIR HOTEL were just some of the elite who had pledged KAPPA SO. There were of course the OWEN family who had set up the fraternity in the first place as a means of connection between the Shady City and the GREAT STATES where they came from. A former pledge described the gruelling and sometimes ridiculous rituals. The brothers were anarchic, using their powerful names to get away with all kinds of debauchery. It was a system of too much power and too little responsibility that suited men like BUDDY well. If you were a brother you would never fail an exam at the university. The principal was also a brother. Job interviews, money and satisfying every whim. None of it would be a problem for the boys of KSO because they protected one another. The former member I spoke to wouldn’t give any details and he was visibly nervous when he mentioned it but pledging KSO was never easy. When it fell into the hands of BUDDY it became downright horrific. The fifth generation of OWEN to be Chapter Leader from its original founder no one could argue Buddy’s place in the chain of command. It was this kind of establishment that TABITHA sought to challenge. She wasn’t exactly the person to advocate for what was right but it did shed light on a bigger problem. Those in power had become so comfortable in their place over the generations it left little room for the average person. 

KSO brothers didn’t care. They had always gotten along without consequences. Why should they worry then? 

In some kind of sadistic homage to that principle Buddy had some of his pledges at heel. A group of boys, probably encouraged by their parents to endure the torture of pledging, now found themselves under the control of one of the most horrific people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. 

What began as games we all had played as students – drinking games, quizzes – quickly became sinister. Suddenly violence was introduced. The boys were forced to beat on one another, cut one another. They were humiliated. There was never anything fatal. They were all potential brothers after all. It they managed to endure the torture an easy life with every possible advantage was theirs to have and they would have the eternal support of their new brothers. 

“Listen up bitches! Useless pieces of shit that ya’ll are, do you still think you got what it takes to pledge Kappa So?” 

“Yes master,” the pledges replied in synchrony. 

Buddy was dressed in a summer dress. Holding two black sex toys in his hands. 

“Turn around. Ya’ll faces are making me sick,” he instructed.

On his right stood COOPER. He was Buddy’s right hand man in Chapter House. He too was from the Great States. On his left, wearing a crash helmet from an earlier drunken game and a bra was Chad.

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Chad leapt forward. “Yeah!” he cried out. “We’re gonna tickle your balls!” He waved his arms at his genitals. “Then you’re going to suck our balls!” 

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Buddy’s cocaine fuelled gaze narrowed on his brother. “What the fuck?” He turned to Cooper. “What is it with him and the faggy shit?” 

Cooper shrugged. 

Buddy turned back to his pledges. “We are going under cover at a feminist rally. Some hippy skank dyke is trying to get us shut down. So y’all are going put on your mamma’s best Sunday Dress and beat the ever loving shit out her with these,” he waved the dildos. “Cock smack the shit out the lotta them. Do you hear me?!” His voice becoming like that of a boxing announcer. 

The pledges cheered. 

“Bud?” cried a female voice over the top of them. A cheerleader named Cheryl waved a phone at him. “Phone call.

Buddy rolled his eyes and sniffed. “I’m busy. Tell them to fuck off.” 

“It’s The Cappy,” she said. The title of respect given to Buddy’s father caused a wave of hush to wash over the room.

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“Take care of those bitches,” he instructed his brothers who closed in on the pledges. 

“Yeah?” He answered, tucking one of the sex toys under his arm. 

“Please hold for MR OWEN,” his father’s secretary announced. 

Buddy pursed his lips. “Yeah, whatever,” he replied. 

The soft voice was replaced quickly by the harsher tones of his father. CHARLES ‘CHICK’ OWEN was head of the OWEN family. He was better known as the Captain or Cappy to his friends. 

“I need you at the Court House early tomorrow,” said Chick without waiting for introductions. 

“Yeah?” was Buddy’s challenging reply. Chick ignored it. There wouldn’t be too many allowances. “Be here at nine,” he ordered. 

Buddy looked at the time on his wrist but he hadn’t worn a watch for years. Old habits died hard he supposed. 

“Judge Doyle wishes to discuss the future of your internship.” 

“Cool,” Buddy replied. The bell of the Chapter House rang. 

“Bernard?” This time the Cappy addressed him sternly. “I’m not going to be disappointed, am I?”

‘Probably,’ thought Buddy. ‘Nothing pleases you anyway, you old fucker.’ But he thought better of voicing that opinion. He just needed to take another line of powder. 

“No, sir,” he replied in his most innocent-sounding voice. 

One of the brothers looked over and laughed as one of the pledges were being carried away. It seemed they were not good enough for KSO. The doorbell rang. It was opened to a group of prostitutes, or maybe they were girls from the university. It was difficult to tell. They all dressed like whores as far as Buddy was concerned. Either way, it would provide the nights entertainment and an extra incentive for the pledges still standing. 

“Dad, dad, oh father dearest. Can I say something?” Buddy tried to break through the torrential lecture he was receiving on the other end of the phone. 

Chick Owen growled, “What?” 

“It’s gonna be a busy one. An all-nighter, in fact. Paperwork for the office and all that.I really should go.”

Chick didn’t rule as head of the Owen family through being naïve though. He had been KSO himself. Sure, he was the eldest and afforded authority on that account but compared to his brothers JERRY and RONNIE, he commanded respect. He knew his son well enough to be able to cipher through his nonsense.

“Be here at nine tomorrow and not a minute later. You and I are going to talk. If you are not here on time, I will send someone to fetch you proper.” 

“Looking forward to it. Just all this damn paperwork first,” Buddy continued his pretence. 

“Cuss me again, boy, and work will become the least of your concerns.” 

“Yessir.” This time Buddy wondered how satisfying it would be to cock bash the old man.

The Cappy rang off. Buddy turned to his party. The girls were already being fed alcohol at an alarming rate. 

Buddy waved the dildos. “Party time baby! Who wants cock smashed?” 

  ***

  A private estate in the north, adjacent to HARVESTER FARM, was where the OWEN Ranch in Coldford lay. It had been their first purchase when the family came over from the Great States. Since then they had built golf courses all over the area as well as snatching up other land for use later. DR WINSLOW, who owned Harvester Farm since the old Harvester himself fell ill, was still standing strong against the Owens’ buy-out of the area. He was one of few to do so. It was used as a personal retreat for Chick when he was in the city, which was becoming more and more often. His driver had brought him to the office of the LAW MAKERS. 

Charles ‘Chick’ Owen was fair haired and long faced. His once blonde hair was lighter in tone than his dark eyebrows. The warm weather was continuing so he wore a cotton shirt underneath his well-tailored, Luen-made, pin stripe suit. As expected it was not ten past the hour of nine and Buddy was late. 

Judge Doyle closed the door on a rabble of voices outside.

“Good morning Chick,” Karyn greeted first.

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“I hear there is good news on the KNOCK KNOCK front,” he said. “It’s been a pain in my ass for too long.” 

“Tabitha’s trial will be pushed through as quickly as the LAW MAKERS can. We want it done cleanly and we want it done now,” said Karyn to the Cappy. 

“It gives my heart some mighty fine relief to hear that,” he grinned. “The sooner the little bitch is put out of her misery the better.” 

“We’ve also managed to bring in the PENN TRIPLETS,” added the judge with pride. 

“I don’t care about those hammer-slamming weirdos. The little bitch is the only one I’m concerned with. Just make sure you have her on heavy lock down,” he added, his Great States accent pronouncing it as shoo-ah. 

Karyn informed him, “We’ve already taken steps to put the KNOCK KNOCK CLUBinto administration.” 

The Cappy grinned. “Music to ma ears,” he said. 

“There’s just one more thing,” Karyn put to him. “I took Bernard into my service in good grace. A little girl has died at his hand, which I did not sanction. I want your assurances that that will never happen again.”

The Cappy leaned forward. “I heard. Some drug dealing scumbag named Kev and his daughter were shot. They were under Ron’s office.”

“We discovered that he was passing vital information to the HEADLINERS but the girl was not a target.” 

Chick growled. “I’ll have a word with Bud. I already have Ronnie breathing down ma neck about it.” He looked over the judge’s shoulder. “Speaking of the do-gooding son’a’bitch.” 

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Ronald ‘Ronnie’ Owen – the Cappy’s younger brother joined them, accompanied by Karyn’s cousin Micky Doyle and her son Cameron. Cameron was a strong, hulk of a young man just a few years Buddy’s junior. Shy, retiring. Chick surmised that couldn’t be helped, having such a dragon of a mother to contend with. Cameron was an intimidating size but it would be hard to find anyone of a gentler spirit. 

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“Good afternoon, Mr Owen,” Cameron nodded respectfully. Ronnie was taller than Chick but a few years younger. He had the same jutting Owen chin but seemed more pleasant of face. Micky was wearing a large button that read: 

MICKY DOYLE FOR MAYOR

“No time-wasting with the campaigning then Mick?” teased the Cappy. 

“The HOT SEAT is open and it waits for no one,” Micky replied cheerily enough.

The previous mayor, FELTZ, was still missing. The LAW MAKERS were all but certain that Tabitha’s hand was in it but she was refusing to cooperate. Until such times as he could be retrieved from wherever he was, the HOT SEAT, which referred to the mayor’s office, had to be taken control of. It was located in a building in the north called CITY FACE, because of the large clock face at the front. If anyone had the bite to hold the hot seat it was Micky Doyle. No stranger to politics, he was as merciless as his cousin when it came to his pursuits but unlike the cold hand of justice, he was more personable. In a lot of ways that was more dangerous in taking control of a city. 

“You okay there, Cam?” Micky clapped his cousin’s son on his shoulder. Cameron looked up from his game with a smile. 

“You are being ignorant Cameron,” his mother barked. 

Cameron’s eyes dropped to his feet, rather than back onto his game. “Sorry mum,” he said simply. 

“We were just talking about the hard work you are doing keeping our city clean,” Chick was saying to his brother. Ronnie Owen was a lawyer and had taken over the Child Services Committee when Karyn Doyle became a high court judge. 

“I do my best,” Ronnie agreed modestly. 

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“All heart and no brains this one,” Chick laughed, putting his arm around Ronnie’s broad shoulder. He turned towards the clock, “Speaking of no brains.” He addressed one of the staff. “I’ll call Buddy and tell him to get his ass out here on the double. Pardon ma cussing ma’am,” the Cappy apologised to Karyn.

“We should have a drink to celebrate a job well done,” he said.

Karyn politely declined, “I’d rather not.” Chick looked to Cameron. “He won’t either.” 

Cameron’s pocket began to bleep. He smiled as he began to content himself with an online game he had become engrossed in. He and user name REG3 had started to become quite a team but REG3 hadn’t been online lately. Still he played on alone. 

Ronnie Owen observed Cameron. He had seen the look of abuse many times before. 

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***

  The house was cold. CAMERON hadn’t wanted to adjust the thermostat after what happened the last time. Things needed shaken up at COLDFORD GENERAL. The doctors there didn’t seem to know what they were doing. 

“There’s going to be a pretty heavy scar,” the young attending physician had said. “I could look into skin grafting.” 

He was at least ten years Karyn Doyle’s junior. He was barely a day out of FILTON Medical School. A real doctor wouldn’t have had to ask. A real doctor would have known she was going to wear her scars with pride. She would show the world what they tried to do to her and they would quiver because still she stands. 

She rubbed the scar across her neck. It was like a noose that her skin had burned through. They told her that she could wear a patch over her eye, but she refused. She would never hide, and cowering behind an eye patch was hiding as far as she was concerned. When they looked her in the eyes they would see the damage that had been inflicted. They would see how much they had tried to hurt her and a shiver would crack down their spine because still she stands. 

She looked deeper into the mirror. She lifted her chin. They would appear in her courtroom one by one and they would answer for their crimes. She would deal them her judgement. They would plea to her mercy. They would cry guilty and as her hammer fell they would beg forgiveness because, even after they tried to kill her,STILL SHE STANDS! 

The front door slammed. An angry breath escaped her nostrils. The noise of Cameron’s return home was like pots being clattered in her ears. 

“Mum?” Cameron called. When he saw her car in the driveway of their large KINGSGATE home he deduced she was home from the hospital. How clever he was. 

He sought her out. He kept calling out to her. Why wouldn’t he shut up? She didn’t answer him but still he cried out. “Mum? Mum?” 

It was a stupid title. There were so many in the world that went by that same title. It was a stupid title and ridiculously common. 

He found her in the bathroom, observing herself. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” he said. 

She could see him smiling over her shoulder in the reflection. She could smell sweat on him. The icy tone was not new to his mother but given the attacks she had been subjected to he thought she would have been pleased to have her son by her side.

“Are you alright?” He was hesitant to ask. She hadn’t said anything about the hospital or what the doctors had said. Was it his fault? Should he have asked sooner? He had been playing football that afternoon, part of training for KINGSGATE ALBION. Why hadn’t he showered when he came off the pitch? Why did he think it was okay to come home bloodied and muddy, leaving footprints over a clean floor? 

Karyn could feel her temples start to ache. She reached up and started to massage them with her forefingers. Cameron saw the warning signs. He should have known better. 

“Cameron?” She said, her voice as cold as ice but calm.

Cameron’s head dropped. He averted his gaze to the floor immediately. That’s when he saw it. Flakes of mud had dislodged from his sneakers. 

“Sorry mum,” he said softly. “Sorry mum!” He screamed as her temper unleashed. She grabbed him by the ear causing him to double over. She hit him with an astonishing force across his head. As large as he was, he would never hit her back. What kind of person would that make him if he could hit his own mother? He should have been paying more attention. WHACK! WHACK! She hit him again. The pain stung against his cheek.

“Please mum!” He sobbed. 

WHACK! WHACK! His shrieks of pain just made her angrier. Her stockings laddered as he dug his nails into her legs. 

He was beaten heavily. His nose burst and his face crashed against the tiled floor, the muddy prints marking his cheek. He started to feel a little dizzy. Something was not right but he dared not complain. She threw him back. Her full lips were puckered slightly. She kept hitting him until Cameron’s body fell limp. The blood trickling from his skull mixed with the mud and sweat. His shirt stained. 

“Are you alright?” She barked the question, still angry. She hovered over him with her hands behind her back. “Get up.”

He didn’t want her to have to ask him twice. He stood as steady as his legs could hold him. Pain was firing through his skull as the shock of the assault wore off and he could feel the full brunt. 

She wiped the tear from his eye. She clutched his face with cold, dry hands and pulled it closer to her. She kissed his forehead.

By the time they had gotten to Coldford General, this time with Cameron as the patient, fluid had gathered around the brain causing swelling. The doctors reduced the swelling as quickly as possible but Cameron would never be the same.  

Cameron had been so worried about her. When the driver who collected him from training told her that his mother had been caught in an explosion, he ran to the door to see her without even saying please or thank you. It had been the third attack on her. They tried cutting her throat but still she stands. They cut the brakes of her car and watched it plunge into the lake. She did not drown. Still she stands. They tried to catch her in an explosion and yet still she stands. She was the unkillable JUDGE DOYLE. Justice is immortal.

Free to read HERE on Vivika Widow Online or you can download for kindle by clicking HERE.

KNOCK, KNOCK: Episode 1: Welcome to the Club

Knock, Knock: Episode 2: Don’t Come Knockin’

Knock, Knock: Episode 3: Sleep Tight Sam

Knock, Knock: Episode 4: Take A Bow

Knock, Knock: Episode 5: A Room With A View

Knock, Knock: Episode 6: Picking Up Strange Women

Knock, Knock: Episode 7: No Kids Allowed

Knock, Knock: Episode 8: Kids These Days

Knock, Knock: Episode 9: Shootin’ The Breeze

Knock, Knock: Episode 10: Calling Last Orders

Knock Knock: Episode 11: Shady City Blues

Knock Knock: Episode 12: Going Down

            They tried to hurt her and yet still she stands. “PLEDGE TIME MOTHER FUCKERS!” Whoops, cheers and spilled drinks. A KAPPA SO party was well underway. The KSO chapter house was located just a short walk from the campus of FILTON UNIVERSITY.

[traumaticexperiences]

Anonymous:i think it's abuse, but i'm not quite sure.

so, years ago, middle school-early high school, my mom got more physical.  Used to grab me by the arms or shoulders, if she grabbed by arms + dug her nails in i would too. one time she slammed me against a wall and started hitting/punching? me (cant remember entirely).  didnt leave marks like bruises or anything, just red fr little while. eventually she got less and less physical, and then hasn’t hit me in… idk, awhile.  at least a year probably.  But was this physical abuse?

aside from that, ever since i can remember, she has a horrible temper.  Calls us all names.  When I was younger, elementary school-ish, I remember calling my cousin a bastard.  I didn’t know it was a bad word because my mom called me + my brothers that sometimes.  I figured it wasn’t as bad as “bitch” because she said it less, or something.  She has called me names like that, and worse things like “cunt” countless times.  Same w my brothers.  But a lot of times we get into a screaming match and I say mean things too.  but I think that’s a newer development.  Eventually I got fed up of taking it and started yelling back instead of crying and just letting her make me feel like shit.  I remember a time in elementary school she told me to go drown in the shower.  I remember because I was in some fandom chat room thing and I was sad, and I told them what she’d said and they (mostly older kids, teenagers) were all horrified and comforted me and stuff.  

Also I’m a lesbian, and this was a five-ish year long ordeal that began with her first stealing my phone in 8th grade-ish and reading my text to a friend saying I thought I was bisexual.  It was turned into me “hurting her” because she couldn’t handle it being in “her family”.  She wanted me to just try being with a boy.  I never have and never will.  After getting a girlfriend in senior year of highschool, and after she talked to some close friends of hers, she became more accepting.  But before then, and even after that point sometimes, she’d still call me a dyke when she was mad, usually over my appearance.

Which always has been and apparently always will be a huge thing for her, too.  I don’t like makeup much.  I’m pretty feminine but I don’t really do my hair or makeup ever.  I just brush my hair, that’s about it.  This always upsets my mom.  My grandpa who recently died was in the hospital a year or two ago, and she yelled and screamed at me before we went to visit him the first time because after she asked me, I told her I wasn’t intending to put on makeup.  She was telling me she never wanted to be seen in public with me if I didn’t have makeup on, telling me I “look like a piece of shit without it,” etc.  In high school she’d often have to pick me up because of doctor’s appointments (I have many physical disabilities/ am chronically ill / have mental illnesses) and so often she wouldn’t even say “hi,” or “how are you,” but rather her first thing would be “Wow, all these other girls come out of school looking so wonderful, I want to cry when I see that disheveled mess is my daughter.”  I remember so many times doing my best not to cry in the car, looking out the window at the clouds or the sun thinking it would help me not to cry because that was letting her win or whatever, or at least I thought so.  I would just say “I don’t care” over and over again because arguing with her obviously did no good and just made her yell more.  But even though I really have no desire to do my hair and makeup every day and look super pretty, her comments did get to me.  I’m a freshman in college right now and sometimes I’ll apologize to my best friend / roommate for looking like shit and she’ll have to really convince me that I don’t.  My mom’s disparaging comments really stick with me even now.  I’ll walk out the door and feel super self conscious and have my mom’s words echoing in my head but still not actually do anything about it (do my hair, or makeup, that kind of thing).  

But I’m not perfect.  I forget things a lot.  Like if she tells me to do something I might just forget to do it.  Or if she wants me to clean and I just can’t find the motivation to do it.  Or if I do it but I don’t do it well enough.  It gets into this awful cycle where I don’t do something and she gets mad, and then I get depressed so I just lay on my bed and do nothing, therefore making her more mad, etc etc.  It’s hard because she has chronic pain too from a surgery that went wrong like 16 years ago that messed up her leg.  

And when she’s nice to me, I really do love her.  She’ll help me calm down from panic attacks and she brings me to doctors and gets me the medicines that I need.  I was in the hospital a month or so ago and she drove down to my college (4 hours away) at midnight just to be there with me since I had to stay overnight.  

It’s like, I know she loves me.  And the first few weeks of winter break back in December were good.  But if I stay home long enough she goes back into how things were before I left for college.  Eventually the honeymoon sort of phase wears away, and she’s back to treating me like shit, and I’m back to wanting to go away to college again.  Right before I went back to college I remember she said something about how I do nothing for her no matter how she talks to me, “whether she’s nasty or sweet as pie to me”, and I responded in frustration that she was always nasty to me.  And at that moment I was doing dishes as she told me to do, and she came up next to me and started slamming dishes down and told me to get out of her sight, to not do the dishes and to do them later when she was gone so she didn’t have to see me.  But at that time, she was trying to get off of cymbalta, which apparently has horrible withdrawal symptoms.  So I guess it made her temper even worse.  When she was slamming stuff I flinched, I really thought she was going to hit me (she hadn’t in a while).  But she didn’t.  But I still flinch at sudden movements in daily life–yesterday in the dorm bathroom as I walked out, someone walked in, and I flinched really violently just because I hadn’t seen them coming (pretty embarrassing lol).  

Also not sure how common this is, but when other people around me get into arguments I get really anxious?  My best friend’s family treats me like their own, and her cousin+cousin’s husband took us out for dinner, and on the way home they got into a disagreement and I got unbearably anxious, I actually had to do deep breathing exercises to try and keep myself calm.  I get kinda anxious just thinking about it.  The people involved have never yelled, they’re always super nice to me and each other–it was a perfectly civil disagreement that they were in, just very passive-aggressive tbh.  But it never escalated.  They just kinda bickered and then we got to our destination and they solved the problem, and that was that.  

I don’t know where I’m going with this.  That first thing I mentioned, about her shoving me against the wall, happened like 5 years ago.  I thought I was over it until I tried explaining it to my best friend and ended up a sobbing mess in the process–I couldn’t even talk.  I angrily mentioned it to my mom at some point more recently and she laughed at me, saying she “barely touched me” and making fun of me in front of my brother, who joined in saying how ridiculous I was being and laughing at me.  That experience has made me really question everything, to be honest.  My mom has a lot of shit to deal with, and I’m not the best daughter in the world, far from it.  I get good grades but that’s about all I’m good at, all I can be counted on for.  Or at least that’s how it seems to me.  I can’t tell if how she treats me is normal, and I’m overreacting, or if it’s abusive, or if she’s just angry at me and I deserve it.  Any advice on that front?  I’m sorry this got so long.  

It would be nice if this is anonymous.  But could you tag it as “mint” so I can find it if you make it anonymous?  Thank you.  And thank you for running this blog.

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yeah your mom roughly grabbing your arms and shoulders and slamming you against the wall and punching you sounds terrifying, the fact that it didn't leave marks and bruises just shows that she wanted to hurt you, but didn't want any proof of it left over that could be used against her. it's horrifying. It is physical abuse, and even if it lessened it's likely because physical abuse is used to permanently keep someone scared, intimidated, and obedient, being abused this way in the past is enough for long term consequences, so they don't even have to hit you in the present because your body remembers abuse from the past and is ready to obey them in order to avoid more!

Name calling is abuse, and being told to drown in a shower was basically telling you to die, holy shit, that's horrible! I'm glad you got some comfort afterwards, that's really traumatic.

Refusing to acknowledge your sexual orientation and then using it as an insult is crazy abusive, it sounds like she really hated you and everything you are. Also that is a lot of abuse just over your appearance, the worst is comparing you to others as if you're inferior or something to be ashamed of, it's awful! It's severe emotional and psychological abuse, and it's no wonder you were doing your best not to cry, and still don't feel like your appearance is good enough. You're in the right here, not wasting your time to adjust your appearance to how others would prefer is good! looking the way you feel comfortable is the best decision for you, and your mother had no right to dictate it or to shame you for it, you're a human being, and that matters more than your appearance, and anyone using your appearance to imply that you're less is dehumanizing you, and negating your worth as a human.

You don't have to be perfect in order not to be abused, and even if there were some times where she wasn't abusing you as much, it just means she is able of not abusing you, but she still abused you all the other times. Not abusing you or being nice to you for a short while is absolutely no excuse for abusing you the rest of the time. She sounds really terrifying and it's dangerous to believe she loves you, i don't think someone who cares even slightly about your well being could ever hurt and abuse you this much.

For abuse survirors it is common to get scared and anxious when getting into arguments because in the past you were taught that arguing risks abuse, risks someone accusing you of provoking them or being at fault because you didn't just do as you were told. After that, even if you were in a civil argument it would be scary. Your brain gathers all information about arguing and if there was danger in the past, it expects danger in the future, and sends out warnings and anxiety whenever you have to argue.

It's hard to ever be over someone who you love and trust shoving you against the wall. It's terrifying to just know that person is capable of that, of wanting to hurt and scare you that much. And your mom is gaslighting you and pretending it didn't happen because she knows it was abusive and cruel, and she doesn't want to deal with consequences of that. I'm glad you're questioning everything, and you don't have to consider what your mom has to deal with, this is about you, and how your mom affected you, and what is the shit YOU have to deal with, because of her. You don't have to be counted on for anything, you're a human being, not a tool, not a robot, not there to be of service to others. You deserve good things even if you don't bring profit and good things to others. I don’t know about advices, but I hope you keep questioning your mom’s intentions and actions and do what’s best for you, regardless of what she wants. Remember your life belongs to you, and you do not have to live for her and her ideas of what you should be. If you feel you could be happier without her dragging you down and burdening you, try to get free. Good luck.

[shardvixen]

Story 3 Survivalist Backpack Rough Draft 1: This story belongs to Eliza Jane Bout, please ask before you use any of it and give credit if you do use any of it.From the Den

When the world falls apart only the well prepared or the very lucky or both ended up surviving. It was best to be both because luck only lasted for so long while being prepared can keep one alive a bit longer if luck should fail you.

“Man will be the weapon that puts man back into prehistoric times, without a planet to stand on.” Dr. Raye

Emmaline Raye 

I never seemed to belong, and yeah,  I get that all teenagers say that, but I mean it. Since the moment of my birth it seemed. The other babies would cry until I left. My father named me after his favorite unknown singer/writer from the 1920s. I have always been fat. I know no one is suppose to say the word F.A.T. but that is what I was and still am to a degree fat. And to boot I was too smart for my own good. I loved to learn, a habit my father encouraged. I was smarter then many of my teachers. After a while the differences were to many to number. I was too dyke for this group, too girly for another group, to weird for the weird group So I kind of just stood alone. And here I am standing alone again. I am all alone and the world has ended.

Not like the physically or mephorically but civilaztion has come to a very quick halt. 1 in every 10,000 people is alive. I ended up a winner in a god’s lottery. Like some goddess happen to look into the mortal world and say damn I love that girls style, talking about me. So I win the stay alive ticket. I have to say I am really overjoyed, but Not. Here I am the biggest loser ever cause I didn’t even get invited to the biggest event of all, “ the ending of every thing any one knows.”

I don’t know why everyone is dead, in fact I don’t even know if they are dead, maybe they just went on holiday and left everything just standing. What I do know it that siome them seem to go up in a PUFF. Yeah go ahead and laugh, I’ll wait for you to finish. OK just let me tell you the story and you decide what you think. Let start with this one thought.

I was sitting in my history class on Friday morning, around 10 am.. I was in a college class at the local city college. I am just a bit too smart. That’s how the gods even things up. Really smart and no social skills. I am still debating which one is the best. At least I was beautiful and talented even if no one else saw it the same as I did.

I love history -I so get it. By knowing where we come from will help us decided whre we want to go. It was my 2nd class of the day and it had gotten started a little late. The teacher is lecturing on how heretics were burned at the stake. I look up at the clock and it showed that it was 10:15 AM. When all of a sudden the room got very braight and hot. I closed my eyes, just a blink and my eyes open to find sparkling grey dust falling from the ceiling, like sand being thrown up by a kid and then raining down. I cough and smelled a sulfuric smell like something burning. My eyes were burning. As my eyes start to tear up. I wipe my eyes and saw grey streaks on my hand. I put my head down, heart beating, shocked and confused. I waited thinking I was in a fire. I wa in a dull shock and my brain said freeze.

The dust settle and I was all alone. That got me freaking out. I finally just let out an ear piercing scream- long drawn out that left me panting. Just numbe felling and me panting. I ened up peeing my pants. I just sat and sat I didn’t know for how long. Slowly my heart slowed down and feeling came back, my brain realized that no one had shown up. I look around and saw little black circles on the chairs around me. Black circles with spikes pushing away from the center looking like a many pointed star.

I stood up and looked under my ass. Nope-no black many pointed star. I went to where the teacher was standing, yep black smudge marks there too. OK Like I said I am too smart for my own good, but my brain was having a real hard time understanding what was obvious. They blew up, they puffed in a ball of fire, self contain fire. Instantious Combustion. I have seen stories on TW and onlinem, but never really believe it. But nothing else, well maybe aliens or some secret government weapon, might have done it but that didn’t explain why I was still standing.

I back towards the window, I turned and look out the window and saw cars that had hit each other or were just stopped in the middle of the road. And grey dust , sust sparkling on the lawna nd black smudges on the sidewalk. This starts my heart beating again. I am racing, my thoughts, my heart. I am teering on the edge, Am I dreaming, having a halluciaation, a crazy episode. Yeah, right now I am sitting in a rubber room some where and this is all a dream. Maybe it is a stroke. I slid down the wall untill my ass hit’s the floor. I wait to see if my world comes back in focus. I sang the whole song, “ Stairway to heaven” Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

“ And she’s bying a a stairrrrrway to heAaaven.. OK, just close your eyes and every thing will come back. 1,2,3” I opened my eyes and nope all grey and ashy still. Damn. I stood looking at my favorite shoes wondering what I should do. I am startled by a crash and turn around to look outside and see that a car has ran up the grass and hit the side of the building across from me. From what I can tell there is no one in the car and then I see and hear more cars crashing in to each other. They are all empty as well. My mind kind of takes over and I realize that the reason I am seeing all the cars is because every one has done a poof and the cars were still moving so many minutes afterward based on how fast they were going. I begin stroking my braids something I had done since I was little and my mom would be doing her impression of a looney toon.

Damn I haven’t though of her in a long time. My mom is dead. I live, I mean I lived with my father who I called Poppy and my GrandMam(who was my mother’s mother). My Poppy and my mom got married when my Poppy was 48 and my mom was 18. My mom was a very crazy lady but no one knew that(except maybe my GrandMam and she didn’t tell). Yep you can see how that pissed off a lot of people. My Poppy believed her when she had said she just needed someone just like him and who knows maybe she meant it but no one will ever know because while she was having me three weeks after they got married, she had a stroke that killed most of her brain.

My Poppy quit teaching so that he could take care of her and me. When my GrandMam’s fourth husband died she moved in with us to take care of me. I wasn’t her only grandchild but I was the only one that she could get close to since not of her other children really like her much. My Poppy built her, her own house on our property. She was as smart if not smarter then my Poppy and later I always wondered how she ended up with my mom or being alienated by her other four kids. Apearrantly my mom was her favorite. My mom eventually die because she got out of the house and ended up in a pond. She may have been chasing frogs, which were a favorite past time and slipped. Her body was found about an hour later. She had drowned most likely because she couldn’t remember how to swim. I was seven at the time. I remember thinking that I was glad that she was gone because she was always doing looney stuff and she scared me. Then I felt really bad about not liking my own mom. Poppy really loved her and was always sad after that.

Oh I remembered where I was and where I wasn’t. Poppy, I need to get home. I need to get home. I need to get home. I was repeating it very quickly, almost in a panic but I wasn’t sure how I was going to get there. On Tues and Thurs I carpooled with a bunch of kids. I hoped on of them was around. I had a hard time wrapping the idea of what had happen around my brain.. I grabbed my bag and headed out the classroom door. I didn’t really pay much attention of my surroundings then, I learned my lesson later.

For some reason I went to the theater parking lot even though my class had faced the entrance of the school. Then I remembered that Jean always parked her car in that lot even though it was the furthers from Jean’s class. I think I just wanted to go by the art class, oil painting was going on. As I passed the art gallery and classroom, I stopped. I put my hands on the glass that normally allowed you to watch the painters but there was no painters and I could see the ash laying on the paints and the pictures like tiny pieces of glitter. It was just too much, so I hurry around the back of the building to the parking lot.

I looked around the parking lot seeing that I either had to take one of the cars that was already started or hope that some one else was here in a car or I would be walking. Some of the cars were pushing into each other and I suddenly understood that was because the car’s driver had poofed just like everyone else and the cars ran into each other. The exit out of the parking lot was blocked. I decided to cut across the school towards the entrance of Shasta College. I looked and cars were still moving off the road while there were some here and there that had just stopped. Mostly because they might be a manuel and once the gas was let up, the car stopped and the engine stalled. I run across the campus because I started to releazie that there was no one around and it was very scary to me to be the only person around.

As I ran acrossed the little bridge that went over the little creek to come out on Old Oregon Trail I hear car engins rumbling and saw cars off to the side and some on the roads. I wasn’t sure what to do. I could walk home. For a moment I considered my options and then I walked to the nearest car just idling in the road. It was moving ever so slowly backward like just before its driver poofed or disappeared or whatever, the person had been backing up their car out of the cleared area that was next to the church. I tried the door and found that it open. I saw the gray dust and chared leather like material of the seats. At first I just let the open door keep hitting me forcing me to move with the car until I took a deep breathe and jump into the seat. The car was one of those big SUV types that Poppy told me would be the death of the planet, if we didn’t make sure that they were ‘green ‘before buying them.

It sat up higher then I was use to in a car but at least it was comfortable. The radio was playing from an Ipod. I turned it off to see if I could find out anything but a song from 103 red was playing. I don’t’ know why but that seem odd to me, guessed I figured that the person driving had been a young person, while 103 Red was the classic rock station. Bad me for assuming that only old people listen to classic rock. Poppy liked lots of kinds of music but Big Band was one of his favorite styles as well as celtic music featuring bag pipes and fiddles.

I only lived about ten miles from the college going north west. Poppy had bought a big tract of land in 1981, so that he could have various gardens going. He had builded his own little paradise on the top of a hill. I could walk to the end of our property and see all of the northern part of the Sacramento Valley. We had five green houses a huge front and back yard which were really fields that he grew different types of grass in. Trees and hedges mixed with blackberry bushes and aloe vera made natural fences with the real fence hidden from view.

My Poppy was an old hippie who loved plants and piano. Our house sat about two miles off of Walker Mine Rd off of Lake Blvd. There were other houses but the nearest one was about a mile down the hill. My Poppy ’s name was Harold Kevin Raye. He was youngest of a Ranger in the US Army. His father had been very parinoid and made sure that all his children would be prepared for the ending of the world. Poppy had been born 1944. He was 25 years younger then his oldest sibling. His mother had die in childbirth. Poppy had been raised by all of his sisters and he entered college because he had a love for plants. He was a beatnick and then a hippi. In the 1970s he wrote two series of books on surviving on one’s own. The fist set that contain ten books was called Hippie’s Paradise. The second set was called The Survivilst Backpack. I haven’t read the second set at all but I have read all the Hippi books.

Poppy after writing the first series began travaling. He came through Northern California during a talk circuit about the importance of saving the world’s plants. He was an author for fun though he held a doctore in botny, he would say to me how funny it was that he got paid more for his writing then for his plants. His hobby was paino playing and he made money doing that as well. Poppy was a very talent but lonely man.

He had many friends all over the world but no one special until one night he was on his way back from Eureka where he had some friends who own a bar in Blue Lake. He would go over that way about three times a year to play piano. He would spend the weekend and walk the beach and buy some seeds from the local nurseries and pot growers. He was at his favorite coffehouse in Eurkea watching the waves come in when he saw this nymph, a mermaid, a goddess that was dancing on the beach. Poppy had said that he had just sat there watching this vision of beauty, thinking, wishing that he could meet someone like her. Someone who could be free and dance no matter where they were at.

On his way back east to Redding, he left Clam beach and saw a his goddess hitchhiking and he went about a mile and turned around and offered her a ride. This woman who was only 17 was my mother. Lexi, Alexendria Harris. My mother was a vision of beauty when she was pregnant with me. He offered her a ride and she accepted. They talked the whole way back to Redding and somehow my Poppy was able to convice her to move in with him. They lived platonic life until two weeks before I was born. My mother asked my Poppy to marry her so that I would have a father and a family. I believe even though he never said anything, that my father believed that she was going to leave me with him after they had gotten married but he could never prove it.

My father got some friends to help and they went out of state to get married. He treated my mom like a queen for the next two weeks and lost her on the night I was born. On August 1st, 1993 he ended up taking care of two babies. One a new born and the other a grown woman who couldn’t remember ever being pregnant or her own childhood. My father was always a hermit kind of a guy even though he had many friends and was loved by all of them.

His two series had been reprinted over five times. He had written many books on farming and plants but those two series were the most popular. Recently, I helped him make a web site called Hippi’s Pardaise after the first series and that kept people interested. Every year, he got invited to do book tours on those books.

The urgency I felt thinking I needed to be home as fast as possible was so distinct that I could almost taste it. I put the SUV into drive and turned down the radio with the hope that I would hear what had happen. But music just played then commericals. Which gave me a false hope that maybe everything would be ok. One of the commericals was for Flue Nomore. It was an informaercial about how the whole world was nearly done and then no one would ever have to die or be sick ever again from the flu.

I remembered that I had an appointment to day to get my Flu Nomore shot. I figured I wont be keeping that appointment which was fine since I was freaked out when it came to shots. I had been really sick the last time I was supposed to get it. Poppy and GranMa had gotten theirs and Poppy had introduce her to Dr. Mayberry, who was a fan of his that had requested a while back online for a signed set hey had all gone to lunch and Poppy gave him the signed copy of the the series of the Survivilst Backpack from the 1970’s. Poppy had told them all that Penquin books had approached him about reprinting his two series again, and they had some ideas for some revising that would fancy the illustrations up a bit. They were his publishers for his gardening and herbology books. Also the History Channel had approached him about making a TV series about the Survivilst Backpack.

I had kind of listen but I was really watching Dr. Mayeberry. He was so gorgeous. He looked like a doctor on TV. He was not as tall as me, or Poppy but he was shapped nicely. I just smiled anytime he looked at me, which wasn’t much and when he did he had that look that I was familiar with. It was the look of an young adult gives a teenager. I I get that look a lot because I attended college and most of the guys didn’t want to date a young fat girl. I was so sure that if I was thin and pretty they would have made a play. Dr. Mayeberry was polite but I think all he saw was a fat, shy girl trying to be a grown up. I was sure that if Dr. Mayeberry had met my mother, he would have been smiling the whole time and he would have noticed her at lunch. My friend Jean could have gotten him to look at her but then Jean could get a dead man to look at her. As the old saying, she was va,va, voom.

As I went over the freeway on Pine Grove, I tried not to think of Jean. I looked down at the freeway and almost lost any grip I was keeping on my sanity. There were cars all over the place, some of them were turned over from hitting into each other. Many were off the road. But no where was there a single person to be seen. I looked back on the road to help clam myself. I stopped for the street light until I realized that it probably was point less but I waited anyway. The world looked the same even though I couldn’t see any people but Pine Grove wasn’t a very busy road on a normal day, so I wasn’t surprised that I only saw one other car that had hit the curb and stopped. I kept finding myself looking even though I was beginning to realize that I may be the only person alive.

I felt my mind go numb when I started thinking that maybe I was really dead and this was really some kind of mental leftover from my life. That caused the darkness to start bubbleing up and I had to fight the urge to start blubbering and crying sensless again. I just gripped the steering wheel and kept going. I was almost home.

As I hit the beginning of our private road, I am relieved and scared because I see my GrandMan’s little coop as well as our closest neighbor Mr. Howard’s truck and his horse trailer. The vechicles were blocking the road, like they had stopped to chat, which would have been right on the mark cause GrandMam had a thing for Old Howard. I pulled the SUV and shut off the motor. I just sat there because even though I had felt a leap of hope and excitement of seeing GrandMam’s car, I could see that she wasn’t in it. My brain kept telling me that maybe it was because she was laying down. I forced myself to get out of the car. I walked very slowly, hoping that her head would pop up any second and I wouldn’t be all alone but I made it eventually to the car door and looked down.

My body sagged, no ash on the seat. That meant two things either she was alive or she had gotten out of the car. I looked around and decided that I would just drive the coop back up the hill. I looked down to see if the keys were still in the car and they were missing. I walked around Mr. Howard’s truck. Our mailboxes were behind the left side of the truck. My pace slowed down because again I didn’t want to see the keys or the ash that may have been there but as I turn aground I saw that her keys weren’t’ there. I let out a sigh of relieved and decided that I would just hike it up to the house, until as I was turning away, something shinny caught my eye near Mr. Howard’s door. Part of me, didn’t want to see what it was because I knew what it was. I turned back and walked to it like I was walking to my death and I saw that charm I have gotten my GrandMam for her birthday. I felt the tears start to drip down my face, but I was able to hold it together because I knew, that I had already known that she wasn’t alive. Just as I knew…..no I didn’t want to think about it at the time, just as I knew that my Poppy wasn’t going be waiting for me at home. No matter. I got the keys and got in to the coop and drove up the hill. I turn on her radio but got nothing on it, just dead air. I drove up the hill to Hippi’s Paradise with tears streaming down my face.

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