#if you make it through this then bra fuckin' vo

[wxrgod]

                                                               BRUTALITY

the following headcanon is inspired by two ancient sources. ( 1 ) ( 2 )

the first comes from an interaction between zeus and ares, when ares came back from a battle wounded and complaining.

then looking at him darkly, zeus who gathers the clouds spoke to him: “ do not sit beside me and whine, you double-faced liar. to me you are the most hateful of all gods who hold olympus. forever quarreling is dear to your heart, wars and battles.

and yet i will not long endure to see you in pain, since you are my child, and it was to me that your mother bore you. but were you born of some other god and proved so ruinous long since you would have been dropped beneath the gods of the bright sky. ” 

i write my ares as having gone through a brief period in his life where he tried to change his father’s opinion of him and be a better son. when i say brief, i mean it lasted a matter of months before he proved himself to be the whining and quarreling god that he is.

as is common with ares, he believes himself to be better than he actually is, and refuses to accept when he’s wrong or makes a mistake ( unless in rare circumstances ). in the following headcanon, he truly believes himself to be proving to his father that he is more than the ‘ most hateful of all the gods ’ while simultaneously failing to realize that he has slaughtered an entire town in what equates to a godlike temper tantrum, thus proving zeus right once more.

the second comes from a source regarding a temple of ares. 

the foundations are of early greece construction and date, but fragments of the superstructure, now located at the western end of the temple, can be dated to the 5th century bc. from the fragments archaeologists are confident that they belonged to a doric peripteral temple of a similar size, plan and date to the temple of hephaestus.

marks on the remaining stones indicate that the temple may have originally stood elsewhere and was dismantled, moved and reconstructed on the roman base - a practice common during the roman occupation of greece. the temple probably came from the sanctuary of athena pallenis at modern stavro, where foundations have been found but no temple remains are present.

this is where my headcanon bends myth canon. while it may not explicitly state “ THE TEMPLE OF ARES WAS ONCE THE TEMPLE OF ATHENA, DISMANTLED AND REBUILT ELSEWHERE ”, i decided to take the “ may haves ” and “ probably’s ” and turn them into certainties and things that did happen, per my own canon.

this is something that ares saw as insulting, especially since he and his sister have such a tumultuous relationship as it is. as such, he decided to kill two birds with one stone and 1) destroy the people that had insulted him and 2)  prove to his father that he could be more than what he proclaimed by sacrificing these people in zeus’s name.

i never said ares thought things out thoroughly before acting upon them. that is the entire purpose of ares: not thinking. he is the side of war that is savage and brutal, that runs into battle with an ear splitting roar, and comes home bloody and full of adrenaline. his sister, athena, is the intelligent side of it. she is strategy, and careful thought. she is everything he isn’t and that’s why they can never seem to get along. they are one coin, just opposite sides of it.

now that i have effectively rambled for longer than anyone should, here is the headcanon / piece of writing titled BRUTALITY, where the scene of ares refusing to give a fuck for the rest of eternity is painted out.

the streets were red with blood, almost ankle deep in some places. those who lay face down were either dead or drowning and choking on the mixed blood of the city’s inhabitants.

some tried to escape through tunnels and back allies, but the war god cut them off. he knew their secrets. he knew their tricks. this was one of his favored cities; there was no hiding from him here.

there was a definite purpose to his actions, though he would not explain them to the men and women and children that screamed and begged to know what they had done to deserve his wrath. they would die answer-less and shit scared, just as it was required of them.

some even hid in the temple that had been dedicated to him just six weeks previously. perhaps some gods would refrain from destroying a people that worshiped them, but it mattered not to ares. besides, the temple had once been athena’s; the citizens had just torn it down, rebuilt it, and rededicated it to a more savage war god.

and oh, did they get to witness his savagery first hand.

he hardly blinked an eye as his spear pierced through two and three villagers at a time that had been clinging to each other for dear life. it didn’t phase him a bit as his sword disemboweled men that thought themselves brave or worthy enough to fight the god of war.

they were cowards, unlike the ones standing in puddles of their own piss as their knees shook and gave out underneath them. those were the ones that truly recognized his power and his greatness, not the ones who took up arms and believed that they could so easily defeat him.

it only took ares a matter of hours to take every life in the city, including those of the animals, both wild and domesticated, before he fell to his knees in a bloody field and looked up to the dark night sky.

“ is this what you wanted, father? have i proven myself less displeasing to you? ” he shouted so loud that his voice echoed off of the empty buildings. “ they’re dead! in your name they’ve all been sacrificed! are you pleased? am i less hateful now? ”

clouds continued to move across the sky, but neither a whisper nor a roll of thunder could be heard. there was nothing but absolute silence.

ares soon got to his feet and threw his weapons to the ground, furious. it was all for nothing! he had destroyed an entire city only to be neglected and cast aside once more. perhaps he truly was the detestable child his father proclaimed him to be.

as he walked away from the city, blood stained and hot with rage, he wondered why he had even hoped for acceptance in the first place and vowed that he would never go searching for it again.

he didn’t need them. he never did and he never would.

[myrelevantwriting-blog]

The Wild, 18-Minute Ride That Is Daydream Believer: A Review by a Former Teenaged Girl

Every generation has its “coming of age” movie: the movie that sees its main character through the naivety of adolescence to a catalyst that makes them realize they’re *gasp* growing up. The ‘70s had American Graffiti, the ‘80s had The Breakfast Club, the early ‘90s gave us the tearjerker My Girl (I’m still holding that vigil for Thomas J). All of these films had characters nearly everyone could identify with. Maybe you were the Cameron to your best friend’s Ferris Bueller. Perhaps you knew exactly what Jim Stark’s deal was in Rebel Without A Cause.

But then, in 1998 came a little known short film with a character so damn relatable it brings up memories you thought you buried so deep in the soil of your brain, it could only be unearthed by years of intense therapy.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Daydream Believer!

Let me start off by saying when my friend Rosie posted this movie to her blog I had no clue what the hell I was getting into. The 1970s film grain and the awkward silence (save for the chirping birds) when we meet our homegirl Susan made me half-expect one of those “What’s Happening to my Body?” filmstrips they made us watch in the 4th grade.

“Are you there, God? It’s me, Susan. All my friends are getting their periods except me. What have I done to anger you so?”

Right away we know Susan is different. She does weird things like…walking (especially when she has a perfectly good Schwinn on the front porch).

God, look at this freak.

“Look at her using her legs for non-jump-rope purposes like a fuckin’ loser.”

So it turns out that Susan’s a loner because she’s always daydreaming about her fab marvy crush…because she’s 11 and this is what 11-year-olds do: daydreaming and hurrying home and catch her fave rave on TV.

To be honest I was expecting it to be Davy Jones...the pirate, not the Monkee.

Yeah, Little Susie’s got fuzzy feelings for Mike Nesmith of the Monkees, to the chagrin of her concerned-yet-not-concerned-enough-to-actually-talk-to-their-kid parents. Susan’s mom is looking at her daughter like she didn’t wet herself over Sinatra back in her day.  I mean, Susan can’t be that obsessed, though. She’s only got like, one album and a single pinup on her wall like she’s some kind of amateur. And she’s pretty reserved in her screaming at the TV so that’s considerate of her.

Her disappointment over lack of mammaries perfectly mimics Mike’s face which in turn perfectly mimics how I feel about this movie so far.

The film then takes somewhat of a weird turn and becomes from here on out a wild rollercoaster ride of “What the actual fuck?” We take a journey into Susan’s brain as she sees herself as a 45 year-old woman teenager, getting ready for her date with-…oh my God.

YOU DON’T SAY

I’m somewhat flabbergasted by their casting decision to go with a paunchy, late-30s Ashkenazi Mike Nesmith but whatever. I’m not gonna judge Susan. She’s 11. When I was 11 I wanted to hang out with Gabe Kaplan circa ‘75. It’s a weird age.

So after her date with Mack Nussbaum we find Susan back at school, going for one of her weird daydream walks and completely oblivious to a group of bitches talkin’ shit behind her back.

“I bet she doesn’t even listen to the Banana Splits. Dweeb.”

“Joke’s on you! Me and Marc Nesbitt are gonna go closed-mouth kiss behind the JFK Memorial Tree. Hope I don’t get pregnant!”

I’m not even going to comment on this next scene. There’s nothing I can add to how utterly perfect it is in its understanding of the pre-teen girl’s brain so I’m just gonna let the caps do the talking.

But trouble rears its ugly head in the form of Susan’s teacher, glaring at her disapprovingly and telling her she’s “a much better writer than this [homework],” before proving this to be a bold-faced lie as we cut to a scene in which Susan writes in her diary:

Mike is so beautiful. He has lovely brown eyes. His hair is so soft and silky. I want to run my fingers through his beautiful hair. He has a sweet Texas accent that is so beautiful to listen to. I could listen to him read a book for hours and hours. He’s divine enchanting!!!

This nonsense reads like a 1st grade primer. Girl, I know you’re 11 but this is clearly not your first day at the Mike Nesmith Rodeo. This should all have been covered on page one.

Also, I hope Susan asked for a thesaurus for Christmas. 

So homegirl’s studies are suffering because she can’t keep her mind out of Mike’s pants and daydreaming about going on a romp with Mork Nerfherder to the song Papa Gene’s Blues. As you do…

“Whatchu thinkin’ about?” “Oh nothing…just statutory stuff.”

…that is until your cockblock of a teacher calls you out for not paying attention and embarrasses you in front of the entire class (a situation I knew all too well, so I actually empathize with her here). Susan goes home to complain to Raggedy Anne and delve into yet another daydream in which Mike takes her home to meet “the guys.” Oh boy, I can’t wait to see what small town community theater actors they got to play the Monk-…..wait what?

They look as confused as I do right now.

After an awkward introduction to the roommates (we’ve all been there. College, amirite?!) Murk and Susan go up to Mulk’s room…

I’m suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable and it’s not for the severed clown head in the corner.

…where Malk puts on bossa nova music and they start making out…

Oh my God, No….

NO!!!

NONONONONONONONONO!

YOU’RE GONNA CUT BACK TO THE CHILD ACTRESS AND MAKE THIS MORE AWKWARD THAN IT IS?! WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

Those lines under Raggedy’s eyes are from all the internal screaming.

No…………………….this is not how I wanted to die.

OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN HALLOWED BE THY NAME….

…AS I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH….

HAS THIS BEEN A PORNO THE ENTIRE TIME?!

BRB SETTING MYSELF ON FIRE…

There isn’t a word for how unnerved I am right now, so I’m just going to make one up. I am extremely floopnozzled, I am totally and immensely…wait a second…

As I breathe a gargantuan sigh of relief, Bra-vo!

After Susan has finished violating her poor Raggedy Anne doll, her dad barges into her room and in a very ominous voice says they need to talk.

The clown in the back but on a brave smile but what his eyes have seen cannot be unseen.

They go to a parent-teacher conference to talk about Susan’s failing schoolwork and conclude it’s Mike’s fault, so they ban her from the living room and the TV. And for whatever reason I don’t quite understand, there’s a scene where Susan has to listen to her parents bone on the couch. I guess as part of her punishment? I dunno.

Girl, same.

EDIT: @legrandennui has informed me that it’s possible the voices she’s hearing aren’t her parents but her daydreams distracting her again. I still think it’s the parents, though.

And even though her parents think she’s obsessed with Mike and forbid her from watching The Monkees, her enabling Mom comes home from the grocery store and gives her flowering junkie a hit of the hard stuff via Teen Life magazine with the Monkees on the cover. I heard this was how Sid Vicious died.

At first Susan is overjoyed, until slowly her smile fades as she reads an article. She storms off into her room and screams at her magazine “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE MARRIED?!”

Lol wut? Child, where have you been? How are you going to be all up on Mike’s dick but not know anything about him beyond his brown eyes and silken hair? That’s like, page 1 in How to Obsess.

So we get one last daydream sequence in which Susan tells Mike she’s leaving him because she’s grown and wants to move on…

…which I guess in this case means getting back to her schoolwork and keeping her grades up…amongst other things.

“Wait, does this mean Shatner doesn’t make her want to bone? Is that the lesson here?”- @legrandennui

I’ve watched a lot of movies about adolescence in my years but this was the first one I’ve seen that had perfectly nailed it in terms of being a young girl with a fave rave. I had gone through nearly everything in this movie: the nonstop daydreams, the constant writing about the object of my surging hormonal lust, not paying attention in school, the concerned look from my parents, and I’m not ashamed to admit my pillow had gotten the Raggedy Anne treatment. My room was a bit more intense than that, pin-up wise but I can’t imagine they had a lot to dress the set with in 1998. This was like looking straight into my own past and as uncomfortable as it was to see what I was like from a 3rd party view, I have to say at the same time it’s incredibly amusing to watch someone flip out over a teen idol while sitting back with a knowing, sympathetic nod. 

If you want to watch the film it’s here on Youtube.

[a-tired-bitch]

Special Room Pt. 7

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

Summary: Evening began to fall upon The Sanctuary, but that surely wasn’t the only thing falling. With the arrival of Simon also came the arrival of a plentiful amount of booze and the rightfully owed taxes from The Hilltop and just like any king, Negan was far more interested in the booze. POV: You Characters: Negan, Y/N Word Count: around 1700 Authors note: Slight references to Forgotten Messages. Song is  I Put A Spell On You - Annie Lennox. Leave some comments because you know, I like, never ever get any. I was watching Goodfellas when I wrote this part which is why the dudes name is Spider. Quote of the story: “The contemplation is the cousin of the action…”

MASTER LIST

Watching as Negan left your side, you slowly leaned back in your seat, the alcohol finally taking its toll and hitting you all at once instead of slowly creeping up on you – your alcohol tolerance making you a lightweight for the most part. Letting out a long sigh, you closed your eyes for a moment and cocked your head back. “Damn.” You muttered, bringing a hand to your face and running it along your cheek before rubbing your sockets. Flashing your eyes open at the sound of Negan speaking, you straightened up and leaned forward, reclaiming your previous position against the table. “Spider, here.” Negan called out, stopping, and digging into his pocket. “Whatever fucking song comes on when you press shuffle is the song I’m going to sing the shit out of.” There was a pause in his actions as he looked down at the phone, running his finger across the smooth material. You weren’t sure if his pause was due to his drunkenness or due to some other, unknown reason, but you continued to watch the drunken man who continued to just idly stare down at the phone in his hand, a phone you didn’t even know he had. After all, this was the apocalypse, why would he have a phone in the first place, there was absolutely no reason for it. The pause was so long that your eyes slowly began to shut. “Let’s get this show on the ro-o-o-ad.” Negan sang, walking over to one of The Saviors, taking their glass, and downing it for them. “Thanks, bud, I needed a bit of liquid courage for this.” Negan said, waving the phone in the air before patting the man on the shoulder, and stumbling away. “Liquid courage.” You scoffed to yourself as you slowly opened your eyes. “I thought you weren’t afraid of shit.” You added, sitting up again, waiting for the show to start and to listen whatever song that was ‘dedicated to you’.

It took a few awkward moments, but everything was finally set up and Negan was finally ready to go. You continued to gawk at the man, watching as he tapped the microphone before removing it from its stand. “It’s a good thing none of my wives are here, they would be pissed knowing that I was dedicating a song to another woman.” Negan jokingly said as he proceeded to remove his leather jacket. “I lied, they wouldn’t give a shit.” He shrugged and rested his jacket on top of the stand. “Or maybe they would, who the fuck knows except for them.” He chuckled, resulting in most of the crowd chuckling along, including (Y/N). Negan turned, looking down at the song that was on the phone. “Bra-fucking-vo.” He whispered, looking up and staring directly at (Y/N). “This one, this one is defiantly for you, Ms. Sassypants.” Negan winked at (Y/N) before addressing the crowd one last time. “I said it before and I’ll say it again, let’s get this fuck storm rolling.  Spider, fire the song up.” Negan turned on his heels, addressing the man and nodding his head. You couldn’t tell if it was the warmth that the alcohol produced or if it was simply the fact that you were blushing at the comment and actions from Negan, either way, you were sitting there, eyes locked onto the man. The song started and Negan quickly turned on his heels again, making his way to the stool just feet away as the intro rang out from the speakers. You instantly recognized the song as I Put A Spell On You by Annie Lennox and if you weren’t blushing before, you certainly were now.

Your eyes broke away from the man and landed on the metal table before you. “Oh, my God.” You muttered, shaking your head, wanting to get up and leave the common room, but knowing that if you were to do so, drunk or not, Negan would hand out a punishment in some sort of way. Bringing a hand to your face, you placed it over your eyes, embarrassed at the ‘random’ song choice. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.” You repeated, shaking your head slightly, listening to Negan finally start to sing. After a few seconds, you dropped your hand and lifted your gaze, looking at the white-collared man.

��I put a spell on you…because you’re mine.” During the pause in the song, Negan smiled, pointing his finger at (Y/N). “You better stop the things you do-o-o-o.” He glanced down, shaking his head. “ I tell ya, I ain’t lyin’. I ain’t lyin’.” Negan’s tone was almost as if he was angry, but besides that, he disappointingly shook a finger at (Y/N) before continuing. “You know I can’t fucking stand it, you’re runnin’ around. You know better, (Y/N). I can’t fuckin’ stand it ‘cause you put me down.” Negan shook his head and quickly stood up from the stool and with his momentum, knocked the stool over. “I put a spell on you.” Negan nearly hissed. “Because you’re mine.” Another long pause came.

Throughout the duration of the song, your eyes didn’t stray from his. It was almost as if you were truly under his spell and couldn’t pull away from his gaze. Either that or you were just staring blankly at him due to your own drunkenness. One of Negan’s famous grins claimed his features as started to pace along the platform, awaiting the next verse. He ran a hand through his hair and rolled his tongue across his bottom lip. He began to nod to himself, preparing himself for the next verse, which was nothing more than the previous one. So, as expected, he repeated it, just like he did before with the same tones and the same amount of underlying annoyance and anger. You broke the intense staring contest, not only due to the slight awkwardness between you two but also because you could feel the intense stares from every other person in the room. Their eyes were boring into your skull and it was disconcerting, to say the least.

You nervously bit your lip, wanting this all to stop. All the attention mixed with upcoming verse made you embarrassed and forced your cheeks to turn red. You knew Negan wouldn’t mean it, but you assumed that he would still sing it as if he meant it. Taking a deep breath, you finally peeled your eyes away from your fiddling fingers and placed them back on your serenade. You watched as another grin formed on his face while he waited out the pause. Instead of singing the whole verse, Negan waited, letting the music continue until it came to the part he wanted to sing. “I love you anyhow and I don’t care if you don’t want me.” Negan pointed to (Y/N) then down at the floor, tapping his boot against the floor. “I’m yours right now.” He said, almost in a demanding tone as he stepped forward, but not remembering that there was a slight drop, Negan fell forward, catching himself at the last moment by extending his hand out and gripping the steel table beside him. “God fucking fuck!” Negan yelled out, turning around, and throwing the microphone against the slightly raised platform. “Stupid fucking shit.” He added, pushing himself away from the steel table and walking back up onto the platform, ripping his phone away from the machine and walking away, only to walk towards (Y/N). Or at least, he attempted to do so. His attempt resulted in him tumbling over one of the power cords and landing flat on the ground. It was almost as if it all happened in slow motion; the trip, the microphone throwing, the cursing, and the tumble – it was all so slow to you. You quickly jumped to your feet and was the first one to Negan’s side, as a matter of fact. No one else even attempted to take to their feet and aid their leader.  “I think the only person under any spell is you.” You jokingly stated as you helped Negan to his feet. “And that spell is being drunk and you are most certainly under it.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the mess of a man as Negan slowly straightened up and wiped off his shirt. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room so you don’t make a bigger ass of yourself in front of all these people.” Although, it was a friendly offer to help your leader back to his chamber, the way you said it was more of an order. “Go on, start walking, Mr. Spell caster.” You nodded towards the door and Negan willingly complied with your offer. Instead of following his lead, you sat back for a moment, watching as he stumbled forward, nearly toppling over his feet this time.  You, once again, couldn’t help but shake your head at the sight.  You’ve seen him drunk before, but never to this extent. ‘This stuff’ from The Hilltop surely took its toll on your fearless leader. You quickly turned around and jogged up to the platform, snatching Negan’s famous leather jacket from the microphone stand before returning to his side.

It took longer than expected, but you two finally returned to that special hallway. Your eyes locked on that dimly lit spot at the end of the hallway, the memories replaying all over again.  You absent mindlessly gripped his side and looked up at him.  Even in his drunken state, Negan was still just as aesthetically pleasing. You shook your head, ridding yourself of those memories. “God, Negan, you need to take it easy on that stuff next time.” You finally spoke up, breaking the silence the two of you held throughout the duration of the drunken journey. “Drank a little too much this time.” You added under your breath, the two of you quickly approaching the door. Negan nodded his head, acknowledging that (Y/N) was right. “Mmm.” He bellowed. “You’re completely fucking right, but at least my singing was great.” He added, hanging his head low and stretching a hand out, opening the door to his personal room. “Anyways, welcome to my special room.” The two of them stepped into the room and Negan instantly fell into his bed, one of his hands latching onto her wrist. There was a moment of intensity and it didn’t help that Negan was silently laying there, hand outstretched and a smile on his face. “Let me give it to you.” He tempted. You honestly expected to just drop him off in his room and return to your own little cubby, but as expected with the lack– or, in this case, the immense amount – of luck, you were once again caught off guard and placed in a new situation. You didn’t even have time to look around his room, your eyes were locked on his just as his were locked on yours. You were basically frozen right now at his proposition, the same proposition Negan offered just hours before, but in a completely sober state. You settled your jaw and stared down at him, those six words repeating in your head, over and over again. You were brought out from your frozen state by Negan squeezing your hand a few times and you couldn’t help but let out a few fake scoffs before glancing down at the mattress.   “You’re contemplating it.” Negan said, almost as if he was completely sober. “And the contemplation is the cousin of the action.”