#its true guys my uncle works at riot

[yael-art-den]

they are best friends. and also transgender

[zerodaryls]

"how are we going so backwards with queer/trans rights in the u.s. these days?"

i keep finding myself falling into this mindset.

but the truth is, we haven't been going forwards for very long.

marriage equality wasn't a thing in the u.s. until 2015.

i was already 2 years outta high school.

hell, the stonewall riots were only just in 1969.

there are people still alive today who were alive during the riots.

the hiv/aids epidemic was at its height in the 80s-early 90s.

my own parents were in high school/college during that time. i was born in '95.

my ex-uncle was a gay guy who was being "counseled" by my religious grandmother who set him up with my aunt so he could stop being gay. needless to say, it didn't work. this was in the mid-90s. i was alive when this happened.

when i was in middle school, it was Big School Gossip that our music teacher was gay. this wasn't even two decades ago.

when i was in high school, it was Big School Gossip that our art teacher was a lesbian. this was barely over a decade ago.

caitlyn jenner came out as trans in 2015. (i know, but it's an important moment in recent trans history.)

i remember seeing tabloids in grocery stores for several years up until that point, photos of her on the cover spreading the "shocking" idea that she could be "a Transgender". people making jokes about her. pitying her family.

when i came out as trans/nonbinary, i was privileged to be living in california, where my legal and medical transition was (fairly) easily accessible (and i'm sure my being white, middle-class, and able-bodied helped in that area).

but there were still roadblocks.

they still forced me to be "examined" by a doctor to make sure my genitals were in order before he'd sign my gender change form. (a completely pointless legal requirement that accomplished nothing but make both of us uncomfortable.)

this wasn't even a decade ago.

i'm 28.

seeing queer and trans people living out loud is largely a New Thing for the general public.

being safe to walk around in rainbows and pride pins is a New Thing in the u.s. (and not even true for all parts of the u.s.!)

acceptance of queer and trans folks is still new. still uncomfortable for many cishets, even some of those who consider themselves Allies.

there have always been queer and trans people.

there have always been queer and trans allies.

but our rights, our acceptance, our place in society has always been a battle.

the battle didn't end in 2015.

"how are we going backward all of a sudden??"

there's nothing sudden about it.

bigots have been pushing back against our progress from the get-go.

they're raising younger bigots, and they're doing all they can to limit our ability to speak up and call for continued progress.

we aren't even a decade into marriage equality in the us.

there's nothing sudden about the shift away from our rights and wellbeing.

to my fellow younger millennials and gen z folks: we're lucky to have been alive at a time where such progress has been made.

but the ugly battles of earlier generations are not behind us.

it's fucking terrifying, but i think we really need to be prepared to face some truly ugly shit in the coming years.

we need to empower ourselves and each other.

those who came before us (and are still here, by the way! the queer population doesn't end at 30, holy fuck!) found community, banded together, and lifted each other up even when the future was bleak.

listen to them.

listen to each other.

and don't for one second give up hope for a brighter future.

that's what bigots want.

do we give bigots what they want in this house?

[fallen-gravity]

Aftermath

A whole summer later, and Mabel's still having nightmares about being trapped in her bubble. One unfortunate morning, Ford just happens to be the one who overhears her crying in her sleep.

Notes:

A huge, huge shout out to @ariasofelegance

A little white ago I reblogged a silly post that said something like "come into my inbox and tell me what my writing brand is", and without hesitating she dragged me into the dirt. Got me so on the nose that it backfired and whoops, I wanted to write it.

Said ask can be found here

Hope you’re happy with the results, Rin ;)

AO3

It’s the sound of sugary pop music seemingly wafting in through her bedroom window that wakes Mabel first. She assumes it’s just an alarm she doesn’t remember setting, and frantically waves her arm out for her nightstand so she can turn it off and go back to sleep for another minute or ten.

Then it’s the fact that her hand smacks something that squeaks, and okay, maybe Waddles accidentally left one of his toys in her room. He’s got plenty, so she can shrug off that as long as it’s not his favorite then he can go another few minutes without it. She’ll bring it downstairs to him when she wakes up, or if Dipper rises before her he can bring it downstairs instead.

It’s fine. She can brush those things off, and to prove it to herself she turns over on her other side and brings her blanket up to cover her ears. If anyone needs her they’re gonna have to climb the stairs all the way up to the attic and tell her themselves. She smiles to herself at the thought, and settles easily back into her sleep.

It doesn’t really click that something’s…off until the sun shines in through her window. Despite knowing that she’s facing away from her window, the sunlight still pierces through Mabel’s blanket and lands right into her eyes. Even for the mid-summer Oregon sun she’s gotten accustomed to, it’s uncomfortably warm and unreasonably bright for so early in the morning.

…Stranger still, she’s sure that Dipper would’ve already complained about it before she did, or at the very least, she’s sure she already would’ve heard him shuffling around the room by now.

Mabel takes it to mean that he must already be awake and downstairs, and groans. It still doesn’t explain why the sun is so painful in her eyes, but she guesses that could be a result of her sleeping in later than she’s used to.

“Alright, universe, you got me” Mabel mumbles, and stretches as she finally pushes herself into a sitting position. Opening her eyes is a bit tougher with the sun still harshly shining into them, but it’s manageable, and…

…This doesn’t look like the attic.

She attempts to rub the sleep out of her eyes, in case she’s still not fully awake yet, but no, the image in front of her still doesn’t change. She’s about to try standing up to see if walking around will help snap her out of her haze, but before she can even kick her feet over the edge her bedroom door swings open.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Mabel sighs. “Can you close the window? I can’t see a thing”

“Sure thing, Miss Mabel!” a cheery voice that is decidedly not Dipper’s replies, and with a snap of their fingers the lights go out. Now that her eyes finally adjust, Mabel’s able to glance around her room, and…

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no.

There are stone statues of her face in every corner of her room, piles of rainbow plushies stacked all over the floor, a collage of sweaters all over the wall, inflatable furniture scattered everywhere, and most notably, a large rug with a bright shooting star embroidered into the center.

“Miss Mabel?” the strange voice asks again, and a bright pink hippo steps into view towards her bed. “Is everything okay?”

Mabel frantically scoots backwards in her strange bed. “Stay back!” she tries to shout, but everything comes out as more of a panicked waver. “Stay back or I’ll grapple hook you in the face!” she frantically pats all around her body for any sign of her trusty weapon.

The hippo tilts its head in confusion, a squeak emerging from it. “Oh, Miss Mabel, you’re a riot! Don’t you remember?”

Mabel freezes in her frantic patting. “Remember what?”

The strange hippo laughs. “Our volleyball match! You promised you’d play with me, but then you took a suuuper long nap instead!”

Mabel shakes her head. It can’t be. It can’t be. She knows Dipper already came to rescue her, she knows they already took the bus back to Piedmont together, she knows they promised to stick together through thick and thin.

Or…did they? What if that was all part of this sick fantasy too? What if Bill just made her believe that Dipper came to her aid, when he’s actually been captured, or hurt, or worse, and Bill is still pacifying her for as long as he can to keep Weirdmageddon going?

She can’t breathe. She tugs at the collar of her turtleneck, but that only makes things worse, because it’s not until she notices the hot pink of her collar that she realizes she’s wearing her shooting star sweater. She wants to rip it off and claw at it until it comes apart thread by thread.

“M-Miss Mabel?”

She has to get out of here.

“Of course!” she replies, just to avoid suspicion. “Let’s go play some volleyball!” She claps loudly, and the pink hippo grins, seemingly unfazed by her behavior.

“Great!” it beams, and bounces happily out the door. Mabel follows more slowly, casting nervous glances everywhere she looks for any signs of creeping yellow eyes.

“Oh, shoot!” the hippo shouts once they’re outside, and Mabel nearly jumps a mile out of her skin.

“What is it?”

“We don’t have enough players,” the hippo pouts. “I can go see if I can find anyone who-”

“No!” Mabel shouts, and a few beachgoers freeze to cast glances her way. She blushes, and tries again. “I...I mean, we could always get my brother to play with us! Where’s my good ol’ twin brother?”

For the briefest of moments the hippo’s eyes flash yellow, but they’re back to normal just as quickly.

“Over here, sis!” Dippy Fresh waves, approaching them on his skateboard.

Mabel steps back, shaking her head. “Where’s my real twin brother?”

The crowd of beachgoers begins murmuring uncomfortably to each other.

“Aww, c’mon sis, don’t be like that!” he grins, jumping off of his skateboard and taking a step closer.

“You’re not my real brother” she hisses. “None of this is real! I know it isn’t!”

She’s shouting now, but she doesn’t care. “Come out and face me yourself, Bill! I know you’re out there! I don’t want to take part in this sick fantasy anymore!”

Everyone around her gasps, and between one breath and the next she’s painfully tackled to the ground.

“Mabel Pines!” an unfamiliar voice shouts, mixed seamlessly with the shrill echo of Bill’s. “Not only have you broken the one and only law of Mabeland, you have also spoke up in defiance of Bill Cipher, the true creator of this land. A simple court trial will not be enough. For these transgressions, you will be taken straight to the Fearamid for proper punishment”.

Mabel’s face pales. “W-wait! I was only just kidding!” She pleas, but a strong pair of arms is already lifting her into the air. She kicks and thrashes, but no matter how much she fights back, more pairs of hands seem to grab onto her and keep her in place.

“No!” she shouts. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise! I’ll do anything you guys want! I’ll never leave you again!”

“It’s too late!” Bill’s voice finally separates itself from the crowd, and he manifests himself in front of her. He lifts her into the air, and she starts thrashing even harder, but nothing she’s doing is working to free herself from her grip.

At the very back of her mind, she thinks she can hear someone shouting her name. But she’s sure that’s all just part of the illusion, that Bill’s using the sound of her own family against her to torture her one last time before she never sees them again, and-

Something brushes against her forehead.

Something soft, and warm, and comforting, and so humanlike compared to everything else around her that it’s enough to make the every single aspect of the illusion disappear into thin air all at once, even Bill himself.

Everything’s black, and then, with a blink of her eyes, she’s staring into Ford’s eyes, soft and loving and pooling with worry. It doesn’t take long for her to piece together that it’s his hand on her forehead.

“Mabel?” he asks, and she realizes quickly that it had been his voice shouting her name in the bubble.

She gasps, bolting upright, and does her best to recover her breathing. Ford doges out of the way to avoid smacking heads, but stays right where he is beside her, rubbing soothing little circles into her back.

Her throat hurts. She must’ve been shouting in her sleep. She wants to cry, but she can’t even do that right, because  the moment a sob tries to escape her throat her chest feels like it’s closing up, and she can’t take a breath anymore, no matter how much air she inhales.

“It’s okay,” Ford whispers to her. “Deep breaths”

Mabel shakes her head. “I…I can’t”

“Yes you can,” he replies, firmly but kindly. He scooches closer to her, slowly as not to re-startle her. “Mabel, look at me”

She does. His eyes are so soft, conveying so many grounding, human emotions that the single moment of eye contact alone is almost enough to completely ground her back to reality. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, once she’s finally able to maintain eye contact without her eyes trembling. “You’re awake, I promise” he offers his hands out to her. “Reach out and squeeze my hands if you need to, but I promise that I really am right here”

Mabel reaches out and takes his hands in her own. They’re so much bigger than hers, and they’re rough with calluses and there’s quill ink stuck under his nails, but they’re so comfortably the hands of her great uncle, all the way down to the extra sixth finger on each hand that the sob stuck in her throat finally breaks its way through. He’s not just another illusion, he’s not a perfect copy that Bill sent to keep her complacent, he’s just…Grunkle Ford.

Mabel throws herself into his arms as her sobs overwhelm her small body. She buries her face into the collar of his turtleneck, and forces her eyes to focus on a little loose strand sticking out at the back of his neck. It’s just a tiny little imperfect detail that could easily be snipped or sewn back into place, but a little imperfection like that to let her know she’s home is more comforting than she’s willing to admit.

Ford wraps his arms around her and holds her closely. He gently runs a hand through her hair, whispering I know and it’s okay over and over again into her hair, and she just buries her whole face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of coffee and ash and ink coming from his sweater like it’s a lifeline.

She stays in his embrace until her sobs finally calm, and they pull away gently. She wipes at her nose with her wrist.

“I’m sorry”

Ford shakes his head. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, dear. I know firsthand just how awful it feels to suffer through a panic attack alone”.

Alone?

She glances to the other side of the bedroom, and finds Dipper’s bed empty. Her heart drops to her stomach. “Wh-where’s..?” she starts, but Ford places a gentle hand on her shoulder before she can finish that train of thought.

“Dipper’s okay, he’s outside with Soos”

“Grunkle Stan?”

“He ran out to the store, but he’s okay too”  

Mabel buries her face into her hands. “You didn’t…come in here because you could hear me from downstairs, did you?”

Ford shakes his head, a fond smile itching to spread across his face. “I came upstairs when I’d heard you were still asleep and didn’t want my favorite niece to miss out on such a beautiful morning,” he pauses, the smile on his face vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. “But then when I came in to wake you up, you looked like you were having a panic attack in your sleep, and…” his voice trails off. “You started…crying out names.” He winds a protective arm around her shoulder, and gently squeezes her arm. “I’d never want to make you recount something so awful, but if you want to talk about it, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon”

Mabel sighs. It isn’t even close to being the first dream she’s had about the bubble, so she should be used to all of these strange feelings by now. But this particular dream felt the most based in reality, and it’s the first time Bill’s actually shown up and threatened to hurt her to her face.

She returns his gesture, winding an arm around Ford’s back and giving his arm a gentle squeeze. She scooches just a tiny bit closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. “I…” she begins, squeezing her eyes shut to brace herself. “I was trapped in Mabeland again. Except it wasn’t like all the other times I’ve had nightmares about it where I knew something was off and I hit the ground running as soon as I realized where I was, it was more like…I felt like I’d always been there.”

With her free hand, Mabel brings the collar of her sweater all the way up to her nose. Anything to distract her from her uncle’s worried expression burning into her. “It was like everything we did last summer was for nothing. I woke up in my bed in the castle, and everyone was acting like it was peachy keen. I tried asking someone about where Dipper was, just for some sense of normalcy, but all that did was summon that dumb clone Mabeland created of him so I wouldn’t get too lonely. I know it’s dumb, but the whole thing just felt…too real. Like I was still stuck there, and the apocalypse was still going on out here, and the whole rescue mission was just a sick dream that Bill put in my head to trick me into believing everything was okay”

Mabel squishes her face into Ford’s sweater and just forces herself to focus on his scent, on the soft material of his sweater, on the gentle pattern of his breathing. “Everything was ripped away from me, Grunkle Ford, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. I tried speaking up for myself, but that only made things worse, because Bill showed up, and he-”

She’s suddenly painfully aware that she’s trembling again, and can’t help the tears building in her eyes. She tries burying her face even further into Ford’s sweater to collect herself and keep going, but before she can she feels Ford’s hand at the back of her head, gently holding her in place as she cries.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, his voice a soothing presence among her racing thoughts. “You don’t have to keep going.” He’s back to gently petting her hair, and the gesture is consistent and familiar enough to ease Mabel’s crying. “I’m so sorry that you’re still having nightmares about this”.

“It’s okay,” she sniffles, and finally finds the strength to pull herself away from his sweater. “It’s not your fault”, she says, and her eyes drop to the hardwood floor of her bedroom. “I’m just so scared, Grunkle Ford.” She grips onto the edges of her skirt. “I know that I shouldn’t be, because I know Bill’s been gone for a year and I know everything’s okay now, but I just can’t help but feel that everything’s not.”

Ford nods solemnly, and for a moment he doesn’t respond, until he shifts in his sitting position so he’s facing directly towards Mabel rather than beside her. “Mabel, may I show you something?”

Mabel blinks, her head tilting slightly in confusion. “Sure, Grunkle Ford, what is it?”

Ford rolls the sleeves of his turtleneck up to his elbows. His wrists are covered in faded white slits, and the rest of his arms are covered in burn scars, scratches, gashes, and decades-old bruises that never healed properly. Some of them are still red and blistering, and others look so faded that she could just as easily mistake them for birthmarks.

It hurts Mabel’s heart just to look at them. Her hands hover cautiously over them, and she glances at the wonderful great uncle that they’re attached to. “C-can I…?”

He nods. “Sure.”

Mabel gently runs her fingers along each of them so lightly that it’s almost as if she isn’t touching them at all. She knows that he’d been hurt in the past, and she knows that it couldn’t have been easy roughing it out in the multiverse for thirty consecutive years, but it breaks her heart to see the evidence of it all up close.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ford sighs, cutting into her thoughts. “But most of these don’t come from the portal” he pauses to rub at the back of his head. “Or, rather, they do, but not in the way that you probably think”

Mabel pauses. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…sometime after Bill betrayed my trust, but before I was able to get the metal plate in my head to keep him out, he’d take advantage of our deal that let him into my mind whenever he pleased,” he taps at his forehead. “He was furious that I shut down the portal, so any time I fell asleep he’d use the opportunity to hurt me as much as he could. He never wanted to kill me because he was convinced I’d change my mind in due time, but he felt the need to torture me so I’d never act against him again. He’d slit my wrists, he’d burn me, he’d do just about everything he could to make sure I could feel the repercussions of his actions when I woke up.” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “Thankfully he was never able to break a bone before I woke up in time to stop him, but…” he trails off, and for the briefest of moments he looks as though he’s lost in thought.

“I’m getting ahead of myself,” Ford blushes, snapping himself from his own thoughts before Mabel has any time to ask if he’s okay. “The point is,” he says, “Just because you know he’s gone now doesn’t mean that he never hurt you. Your nightmares are your scars, and they’re just as real as the scars under my sweater.”

Mabel wants to respond with a proper thank you, because she’s genuinely touched by the validation, but there’s a part of her that just can’t move past all the gashes and scars on Ford’s arms. She knows she’s seen similar cuts elsewhere, maybe not nearly as dire, but she knows in the back of her mind that’s just because she was just barely able to stop them from becoming much, much worse.

“I don’t think it’s just the nightmares” she mumbles, just barely loud enough for Ford to hear.

“Hmm?” Ford hums. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Mabel runs two fingers gently around the white scars on Ford’s wrist. “I don’t think it’s just that he hurt me, I think it’s that he hurt a lot of people that I love, too.” She shakes her head. “I know there isn’t a lot I could’ve done to prevent it, but…I was so oblivious to it, Grunkle Ford. I had no idea he was hurting so many people until it was almost too late”.

She keeps rubbing gentle circles into his wrist, like she can make the scars and all of the memories of the pain he went through vanish into thin air with her loving touch alone. “Dipper’s got these scars too. I know he’s okay now, but…” the sigh that escapes her is broken and shaky. “I know that much worse things could’ve happened to him, too”.

Ford frowns. “He…did tell me about being possessed, yes. But he also told me that he couldn’t have gotten his body back without your help. Bill’s a master at trickery, Mabel, it’s not your fault you couldn’t recognize him in Dipper’s body”.

…But she also knows that the reason Dipper was possessed in the first place is because he was up all night trying to crack a code that she told him she’d help him with, and she also knows that if she found out that it wasn’t Dipper controlling his body until it was too late, then…

“He wrote a letter”

The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop herself, and she slaps her hand over her mouth, tears building in her eyes again.

“Who did?” The soft smile slips off of Ford’s face. “Dipper?”

Mabel shakes her head. “Bill wrote a letter when he was still in possession of Dipper’s body. I’ve never shown it to Dipper before because I didn’t wanna freak him out, but I just…couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, because I was so afraid that if I did, Bill was going to find out, and wait until the moment my back was turned so he could…” her voice trails off, and she can’t finish the sentence no matter how badly she needs to get it off of her chest.

“Mabel?” Ford asks, his voice dripping with worry.

She shakes her head, and hops down from her bed to reach underneath. She grabs a seemingly useless crumped up piece of paper, and carefully unfolds it and pats down all the wrinkles before she offers it to Ford. “Before he could do this,” she replies, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

Ford takes the letter from her, and Mabel takes her seat back on the bed beside him. All she can bring herself to do is just watch as Ford’s expression becomes more and more horrified as he reads further down the letter, and the hurt in his eyes when he looks into hers when he finishes reading is palpable.

“I’m scared, Grunkle Ford” she repeats, her mouth continuing to speak before her brain can stop her. “I know Bill’s gone for good, but how can I be so sure that everything’s okay when I know that this is what he could’ve done to my brother?”

For a few painfully short moments Ford says nothing. Mabel’s sure he’s at a loss of words, or that it was a mistake showing him the letter because he’s freaking out now too, but much to her surprise  Ford’s next move is pulling her into his arms again and hugging her so tightly it’s as if he never wants to let go again.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into her hair, but doesn’t give her enough time to respond before he keeps going. “Mabel, I’m so sorry you’ve been burdened with this. You’re the last person I would ever wish to feel so unsafe that you can’t even trust the quiet moments.”

His breathing sounds broken and shaky, but if he’s tearing up at all he’s doing a really good job at hiding it.  “You don’t deserve any of this. You’re too young to feel like you have any responsibilities over anyone’s life or death. I’m so sorry that he made you feel this way”

She knows he’s not the kind of person to use his words carelessly. She knows that he’s phrasing it this way because he recognizes his own behavior in her. She doesn’t respond verbally, but she reciprocates the hug best she can, and a heavy sigh escapes Ford when she does. They stay there in silence for a few short minutes, just reveling in the comfort and safety of the other’s arms.

When they finally pull away, Ford seems to have gathered his composure again.

“I promise, Mabel” he takes one of her hands into his own. “I promise you that he’s gone. He can never hurt you or me or Dipper or Stan ever again. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t, and it doesn’t mean that recovering from that sort of pain will be easy, but if there’s anything I know for sure, it’s that he’s never showing his face here again”.

Mabel finally crumbles in his arms. She’s sobbing again, but it’s a cathartic kind of sob, and she’s gripping onto Ford’s shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping her together.

“And even if he does, I know just the grappling hook to scare him away”.

Between her sobs, Mabel can’t help but giggle.

[daretosnoop]

Chapter 6: Partners

Chapter 5

Henry had struggled to work for the rest of the evening. Nancy’s words got stuck into his head. He always knew what he had with Summer was, well, it wasn’t right—but every relationship had its own sense of balance. Maybe, this was just his and Summer’s? But, he had been quick to isolate Summer as someone he was close to. Why? He was always desperate to please Summer and found happiness whenever it would work. Summer’s smiles and laughs were rare, but they were worth it. But was she his friend? What even is a friend when you’re an adult?

Nancy seemed to sense his displeasure with their conversation. She’d tried to bring him into her investigation, but Henry declined. She then tried to suggest playing a game, but Henry declined that too. So she left him alone, and now Henry could hear her laughing with Renee as they ate dinner. One half of him wanted to join in on their conversation. What could be so funny that Renee was laughing? Henry never saw her so much as smile when it was just the two of them. Later, Nancy came in to inform him of the dinner plate they left aside for him. She tried again to engage Henry in some activity, but gave up when she saw Henry’s face. Her badgering, it reminded him of Ned. He’d also chased after Henry, insisting that Henry joined him for lunch or for a study session. Ned was the only classmate that was close in age to Henry. His friendliness and age gave Henry no excuse to avoid spending time with him, but he did—because Summer told him to. And now he was denying Nancy’s friendship, but Summer wasn’t here.

After Henry spoke to Summer, she’d gone quiet. Not a text or phone call. He’d text her how was her day, what she was up to, but Summer either didn’t respond or just sent some emoji. Henry tried to call her once, but she didn’t pick up. So he left her alone. Now, sitting on his bed, he scrolled through past messages, wondering if he said something to hurt her, or if she didn’t like him anymore and refused to talk to him. God, please don’t let come to that. Nancy’s words filtered in again, One of you will tire of the other and end the relationship. Henry moved a hand through his hair and tossed his phone to the side. He was just tired.

There was a rustling in the wall and as Henry looked up, he saw the wall move! The Whispers rushed in and filled his mind with indecipherable words. The wall swung open like a door and out stepped Nancy, looking surprised. Before he could speak, before he could even think of speaking, Nancy’s face turned into a smile.

“Henry!” she said, excitement bursting from her voice. “You won’t believe what I’ve found out”.

“The door to Narnia it seems,” was all Henry managed to utter out. Immediately he chastised himself for being too harsh, but Nancy just laughed.

“Looks like it, right? No, I found your uncle’s study. His secret study”.

What?

Nancy read his expression. “Ya, I know,” she said and dragged him out of the bed and into the study. “This is just something you gotta see for yourself. Prepare yourself, I got more discoveries coming”.

Stumbling after Nancy, Henry’s jaw dropped as he took in the scene before him. There was dust and dirt everywhere. The room looked like shambles, a storage room. Nancy burst forth into an explanation of what she found out about his uncle and Dr. Buford. They were in some krewe called the Jolly Rogers. She told him that she learned that Bruno had acquired a skull.

“He believes it’s the true genuine Whisperer skull,” she said with animated eyes and her hands waved about as she described the case the skull was in. “We found it at Zeke’s, but Henry that’s not all, look at this photograph,” she passed him a photo of what looked like a younger Bruno Bolet and skeleton people?

“See,” she said pointing to the skull people. “That’s the same skull man I saw when I entered the house. I’m sure your uncle used to be one of them. Renee mentioned that she saw them too, but I guess she didn’t know your uncle was in a krewe. And look,” she passed him a calendar book. “There’s a date set for 4 days from now. Your uncle was planning to go to some place exactly near where Bess and I are staying. Do you know what this all means, Henry?” She looked at him eagerly.

It was too much, way too much to handle, and he honestly did not know what it all meant.

“You were right?” he guessed in a weak voice. “My uncle was in a cult”.

“Well, kind of, I guess,” Nancy said, then she shook her head and pulled out her phone. She showed him the photos of the note from the person Bruno purchased the skull and the case the skull was stored in.

“It means that Bruno was hiding the skull!”

“But, why?”

With Henry’s question, Nancy immediately sobered and stood a bit away from Henry. She looked at him hesitantly.

“Henry, do you hear voices sometimes?”

Henry stiffened at her question, an act Nancy noticed.

“You do,” she said softly. “So, it’s true. My god, it’s true”.

“What’s true?” Henry cried out, frustrated with being kept in the dark.

Nancy didn’t say anything. She just handed him a book and told him to read it. She then moved away towards the skee ball machine and tinkered with it. Realizing that she was not going to explain herself, Henry opened the book and read his uncle’s letter. When he finished, he shut the book and tossed it on the table. He then leaned over his legs and laced his hand behind his neck. I’m not losing it. I’m not losing it. I’m not losing it. He was losing it. It was too much. His uncle was asking for too much, and Henry didn’t even like him. Why should he do anything his uncle wanted? Just finish the damn accounts and go! Summer’s right, don’t waste time on a person who gave you nothing and just—he stopped his thought and a smile forced itself out. His life was a riot.

He looked up and noticed that Nancy had her back to him, still giving him privacy. She had her trench coat on again. What’s she planning now? A feeling came over Henry. He didn’t know why, didn’t even want to know why. All he knew in that moment was that he wanted to join her on the investigation. He hated his uncle, was angry with him. But he could not shout at the dead—though they made their voices plenty heard. Speaking of which, it seemed that the entire Bolet family was one certificate of prestige away from being locked up in an asylum. It didn’t surprise Henry to learn about being able to hear ghosts. No point in being scared in the everyday occurrence. The Whispers, now ghosts, fell into a quiet murmur when Henry read the journal, as if they were anxious to how he would react. Alright, I’m here, he thought. What do you guys need? It seemed to work because they hummed about in his mind. Henry laughed to himself. Here he was, consoling the dead.

Henry got up, stuffed his hands into his dress pant and shuffled over to Nancy.

“So now what?” He asked when she didn’t start talking.

“Well,” she started slowly. “It depends on what you want. This case is not really mine anymore”.

Henry stared hard at Nancy. She returned his gaze.

“So I’m guessing you know what I did”.

“I’m guessing you needed the money for Summer?”

“Any questions?”

“Not really, you’re in the clear now that I know you can’t be the skeleton man”.

“You suspected me?” Henry asked and raised his eyebrows.

“Of course,” Nancy said smugly. She picked up a ball and rolled it across the skee ball runway.

“So my family are ghost whisperers. There’s an actual skull whisperer, and my uncle wants me to have it because it will give me some knowledge?”

Nancy rolled another two balls before she answered.

“No Henry,” her voice was deep and reflected her somber face. “There’s more”.

“There’s something more important than the supernatural existing?”

His question broke a smile across Nancy’s face and she exhaled a laugh through her nose. She threw another two balls and then turned to look at Henry.

“Your uncle was probably murdered”.

“Excuse me?”

Nancy tossed a ball up into the air and caught it. She repeated the action as she spoke.

“I looked into the skull. It’s reputed to give people immortality, and it had a history of all its owners being murdered. I asked a reliable source about the skull. Turns out she had previously spoken to your uncle, and she believes that your uncle’s death might have been planned”.

“My uncle died of a heart attack”.

“Yes, but there were two people nearby when it happened. Renee and Gilbert”.

“Are you saying that they killed my uncle?”

Nancy shrugged and rolled the ball she played catch with down the ramp.

“Who knows Henry”.

“So there’s a chance he might not have been murdered?”

Nancy made a face at that and Henry realized she was dead serious. Now he understood why she placed the choice in his hands. An investigation into murder, without any police help— it was all based on a hunch, her hunch. They could also end up dead. He realized she was asking him whether he even wanted to investigate into his uncle’s death. He smiled softly and crossed his arms.

“So? What’s our next move?” he asked again. This time he wore a fond, if exasperated, expression on his face.

Nancy gave him a sly grin and rolled the last skee ball she had. “Now, we look for the skull”.

She brought Henry over to the cupboard that stood against the wall and explained that Bruno had hid twenty-five eyes around. Apparently they led to the skull. She even showed him the clues he gave for some of the eyes. As she explained, Henry couldn’t help scoffing at the ridiculousness of it all. There were ghosts. He heard them. He was not insane. His uncle might have been murdered. They were looking for a skull. He was a thief, and Nancy was a bad girlfriend. What on earth was about to get unburied? He didn’t know, and for once, he wanted to find out.

 “Don’t you think it’s a bit cuckoo to assume that we’re supposed to be looking for eyes?” Henry asked as they stood in front of a grandfather clock. “I mean, what if eyes were some kind of key or clue to a key?”

Nancy moved her head from side-to-side, indicating that she thought the same.

“Did your uncle have an obsession with eyes?”

“No. He was a dentist”.

“Right. He chose the wrong occupation”.

“He did have a glass eye though,” Henry added, remembering the first time he saw his uncle’s glass eye. It was the first thing he noticed about his uncle when he came to pick Henry up from foster care. After his parents died, there was a short gap between the funeral and coming to the manor during which Henry stayed in foster care. When his uncle came for him, all Henry noticed was that one eye did not follow him. He always regretted the face he must have shown to his uncle. It was a bad first impression, not to mention the insensitivity, and even though uncle Bruno gave no indication that Henry’s reaction bothered him, Henry always wondered whether his reaction impacted their relationship.

“Of course he had a glass eye,” Nancy said and they shared and amused look.

“So,” Henry said, gazing back at the clock with hands on his hips. “What do we do here?”

“Well,” Nancy began as she shuffled through the journal. There were three entries for the first puzzle. Each contained a short story and nothing more.

“I’m guessing the stories tell us something on what we should do with the clock”.

Nancy read the first story aloud.

At exactly midday the teacher said to his class, “what time will it be when three hours have passed”. Let’s pretend it’s that time and move ahead two hours more. And from there let’s say that it’s nine hours before. If, six hours before then we’d made note of the time, what time would it be if we’d moved ahead nine? His students wrote down 6 numbers in all. Then went back to their daydreams of things big and small.

“Makes no sense,” Henry remarked.

“Hold on, hold on,” Nancy reread the story and traced certain words. “Do you see here,” she said pointing to numeric words. “The story is weird, but it has words that indicate numbers. See here, midday becomes twelve. Three hours pass, so from 12 we move three hours. Then we move ahead another two hours”.

“And so we should get 12—3—5—8—2—11,” Henry finished and started to move the hour hand in that order. The gears of the clock whirred to life and from the cuckoo bird door emerged a glass eye. Tentatively, Henry reached for it. It was cool to the touch. He turned towards Nancy and saw that she had opened her bag for him. He placed the eye in and they looked at the next story.

“I’m guessing we just repeat what we did before,” Nancy said before launching into the second story. They pulled out two more sets of numbers and two more eyes.

“Three out of twenty-five so far”.

“No,” Henry said. “Four out of twenty-five”.

Nancy looked perplexed and then it hit her. “The eye in the desk drawer!”

Now it was Henry’s turn to look at her perplexed. “How do you know about that one?”

“Well, I snooped around your desk—“

“You snooped around uncle Bruno’s desk?” Henry exclaimed.

Nancy shrugged and Henry gave way to a burst of chuckles.

“You really are the real deal Nancy”.

“What can I say, nothing gets in between me and a mystery”.

 They shuffled over to the desk and Henry opened the drawer and detached the glass eye from its keychain. Nancy flipped through the journal and looked around the room.

“There’re a few eyeballs here,” she said and moved towards the bookcase with tooth stands. Henry followed after her and peered into the book she held up.

“Your uncle logged some of the work he did. I’m guessing it somehow relates to this bookcase”.

“This seems like a violation of patient confidentiality,” Henry remarked and Nancy grinned.

“Probably”.  

Nancy looked at Henry.

“Your ghosts say anything?”

Henry raised an eyebrow, “Don’t think I can just call them to me and ask questions. I’m not a necromancer”.

“Have you tried?”

“Not really,” Henry looked uncomfortable.

“Hey, if you’re unsure or haven’t gotten used to there being ghosts, then don’t force yourself”. Saying so, Nancy linked her arm around Henry’s and dragged him towards the living room.

“I wanted to know your opinion on something”. She opened the door to the secret passage and brought Henry towards the lens.

“There’s a lens here that zooms in on a book. Know anything about it?”

Henry peered through the lens and saw the book Nancy was talking about. Nothing came to mind and he shook his head. He then realized something.

“Is this were you overhead my conversation with Summer?”

Nancy nodded and Henry gave a deep sigh and moved out towards the living room. He saw the Bolet family portraits and moved towards them. He recognized his parents, but it saddened him when he realized that this portrait and his last memory of them barely differed. He didn’t see his uncle, or at least, he didn’t recognize him. Then again, aside from his parents, Henry could not name any of the family members on the wall. He looked at his father. So you had the same ability I do. What would you have taught me?

Henry closed his eyes and tried to get a feel to see if there were any ghosts about. All he felt was the emptiness surrounding him. Embarrassment flooded in and he opened his eyes, turned around and saw he was all alone.

 Nancy knew it was best to leave Henry alone while he stared at his family portraits. Old families tended to have walls filled with portraits. She remembered when she went to Blackmoor manor in England and met a young girl who felt alone in a manor filled with unfamiliar and intangible faces.

When she turned around to give Henry privacy, she caught Renee slipping up the stairs. Curious, she slowly followed Renee up to her room. Renee had left her room door open just a crack. Nancy slipped to the floor and peered through the cracks. Renee was sitting on her bed with a book and had an assortment of bottles and other knickknacks all around her. She lifted different potions up to her nose and took in a deep breath. She then opened her pouch necklace and put in pinches of stuff into the pouch. Then, she packed everything up and went to bed. Nancy started to back away when, out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw the rocking chair move and the doll turn towards her. Nancy felt chills run down her neck and she backed away, rushed down the stairs and crashed into Henry.

[sunflowerhazzavol6]

Veto- Chapter One

To Genevieve, morning always seemed to be the cruelest part of the day.

Nighttime was easy. Any and all responsibility was just beyond her apartment door, the only thing left up to her at that point being what she was going to feed herself and what kind of alcoholic beverage she was in the mood for. Typically it was something mixed with vodka and some sort of take-out, or food brought home from work. She could just settle down into her worn couch, lint pebbling on its almost too-comfortable surface, and tune into the blue light that was her TV. The perfect evening to shut out a usually less than perfect day. If that wasn’t exactly the speed she was going for, she would let that responsibility tap it's probably clubbed foot on the outside of a club entrance, Genevieve dancing on top of a table with her best friends while they took turns taking shots. This of course added to the pain of mornings, her hangover rearing its head as soon as she opened her eyes. That was what made this one in particular so gruesome. 

She blinked her eyes open, immediately squinting at the light drifting in through her window. She had blackout curtains for this reason exactly, but last night in her drunken haze she had forgotten to close the blinds in order to protect herself from this exact occasion. She knew she was paying for it now, burying her nose back into her pillow and letting out a strong exhale. Outside she could hear the construction crew that was already bang-bang-banging on the complex that was being built next door. While the noise bothered her to no end in the beginning of her lease, she had grown used to it and knew that it was the reason her rent was so cheap in the first place. Even the catcalling had become white noise, but she still held up a middle finger most days when she walked by to do her laundry. This morning the jackhammering reminded her of the pile overflowing from the basket, and she let out an audible groan before pushing herself up and out from under the covers.

Six months ago she had dropped out of school, packed up all her shit, and moved to a place just outside of Malibu. Cecilia, her best friend from high school, had moved there immediately after graduating with her boyfriend at the time. While they ultimately ended up breaking things off, she stayed there to work and enjoy the sun and freedom that came along with the California heat. When Genevieve had called her for probably the thirtieth time, having an anxiety attack about not being happy or knowing the true direction of her life, Cece had suggested that she move down to the West Coast to figure things out. Within a week she had officially unenrolled from the business school at NYU, dyed her brown hair blonde in a Tesco bathroom, and packed her tan colored 2007 Subaru Forester to trek across the country. She camped in her car along the way, grateful for the couple before her who had tinted the windows. She didn’t tell her mom what she had done until she was pulling onto the Pacific Coast Highway, receiving an earful that ultimately ended as soon as her back tire popped and she had to pull over. She didn’t see why it mattered anyways, leaning against the dirty vehicle while she waited for the AAA guy to pull up and save her ass. Her mom couldn’t afford to help her with school, and so really the only money at stake was her own. That was a whole other tier of stress on her shoulders; the student loan debt that she still had to pay off despite her lack of degree. She was relieved to get her own place after staying with Cece for two weeks, but even after she pushed open the door to her new apartment, the discontentment that she had felt in New York lingered in her head like a fog. It was bearable now, though, and so she took that as a sign that she was taking the right step.

She stands on the cool linoleum flooring designed to look like hardwood, stretching her hands into the air and hearing her spine pop. The rush of blood circulating through her body makes her head throb, causing her to release a pathetic whine and hold her hand to her forehead. She grabs her glasses from her nightstand, putting them on and pulling open the drawer to find god’s gift to the earth. The bottle of Tylenol rolls to the edge of the drawer, it’s only occupant besides an Altoids tin with condoms in it. She grabs the bottle and pops it open, shaking out two pills before throwing her head back to toss them in. She pops her head under the sink in her bathroom to swallow them down, wiping the bit of water that escapes with the back of her hand. Genevieve then gets ready for the day, peeing and brushing the fuzzy feeling and stale alcohol from her teeth. After getting dressed in a somewhat-clean Led Zeppelin t-shirt and shorts she grabs her laundry basket, her keys, and heads out of her studio onto the walkway outside. 

Hidden Hills apartment complex was an old motel that had been converted into a low-income housing space, which had then just been converted into the complex that it was today. It was really nice for the price point and the area, and Gene was incredibly grateful that she had found it while it was still available. When she had moved in the owners had just finished remodeling and had begun work on the buildings that were going up now. Apparently they had knocked down the walls in between two motel rooms to create each space, making it a decent size for one person or a couple. The more expensive suites had become two bedroom apartments across the parking lot, so there were a few small families that lived there too. For the most part, though, it was people just like her who were calling it a rest stop on their way to something better. 

When she walks into the small laundry building attached to the main complex, she’s greeted by an older man in his early sixties hanging up colorful speedos to air dry in the corner. Victor was two doors down from her, and had lived here for at least the last two owners as far as she knew. He never really disclosed how long he had been there, though, which was very purposeful on his part. It wasn’t because he was ashamed by his living situation, being the oldest in the complex by at least thirty-five years. Victor absolutely romanticized the mystery he had created, introducing himself as a flaming homosexual from the south who had participated in the Stonewall Riots of 1969. When he found out that she had moved from New York City herself, he immediately took her under his wing and became the strange gay uncle she never had. Other than his horrible habit of sunbathing in the nude on his balcony, she really liked him and valued his insights and advice on life in general.

“Well would you look at who the cat dragged in! You look something horrible, Genevieve.” He says when he sees her, crossing his arms over his wife beater and kimono. He had on bright yellow swimming shorts too, which were inappropriately small for anyone other than him. She winces at his voice, wrinkling her nose while she puts her basket on top of a dryer.

“Don’t talk so loud. I just woke up.”

“My lord Jesus almighty, honey, it's past noon.” He turns back to his pile of wet clothing, pushing them into a dryer. He starts it and watches it spin for a second before leaning against the white metal, turning to look at her. “Have a good night?” 

“I’m not sure. Can’t exactly remember all of it.” Gene rubs her temples, putting in her laundry soap and starting the load.

“Those are the best kind.” He smiles at her. “You know, Genevieve, I’m very glad that you’re not a prude introvert who just stays in all the time. Have fun while you can, enjoy that hot, young body of yours to the fullest!” He shimmies his shoulders at her while she rolls her eyes. Despite being a very progressive LGBTQ+ man, he was old fashioned in that he didn’t call her by anything other than her full name. He was firm in his belief that a name was important and said a lot about a person, that it was their identity and was a part of them. Whether the name was given or not, he always called everyone by their name even if they introduced themselves with a preferred nickname. There was a guy that had moved out a few months ago, whose name was actually just Nick, but Victor called him Nicholas anyways. He felt it suited him better, and was more classy. He claimed he would get further in life as a Nicholas over just a Nick, but never really got the chance to find out. Which was just as well.

“Being a prude introvert is not a bad thing.” Gene points out, raising her eyebrows at him. “Isn’t the whole point of personality and sexuality that it’s your own?”

“Aha, my child, you’ve learned so well. I’m giving myself teacher points for that. I’m just merely pointing out that I saw a very good looking young man leaving your apartment at the asscrack of dawn two weeks ago-”

“A month ago.”

He ignores her. “-and I’m very proud of you for embracing this youth that you’ve been blessed with! Not everyone is so intelligent, Genevieve.”

“I hardly think sex is a factor to intelligence.” She laughs, hopping up onto the washer to sit.

“Perhaps not, but it's exercise, and a healthy body is a healthy mind.” He taps his hairline to emphasize his point.

“So are you keeping a healthy body for your healthy mind?” She teases, kicking her legs back and forth.

“Oh pish. Don’t trouble yourself with an old man’s sex life. That’s the last thing you want to hear about.”

“Then stop meddling in mine!” She laughs, reaching her foot out to tap his side affectionately. This draws out a smile, a chuckle escaping his lips wrinkled from thousands of Kent cigarettes.

“You don’t have to do what I say, sugar, but listen just to humor me, alright?” Gene can tell by his tone that this would be something she would want to hear, so she shuts her mouth and does as she’s told. “I’m very glad that you’re so confident in yourself. Even if you don’t think so, you’re more secure in your body and in your looks than the kids your age I’ve met. Definitely more so than I was. But maybe that's because you’re straight.” She cracks a smile at that, and he puts his hand on her knee. “That being said, honey, I don’t want you to shy away from love when it lands at your feet. Take it from an old man who has made many-a-mistake in his lifetime. When something falls in your lap, take it, run with it, and don’t let it go. Don’t chalk it up to a random hook-up just because that’s what you’re used to.”

She recognizes his seldom solemn face, nodding her head. He returns it with a tight-lipped smile, squeezing his hand. “I’m not saying don’t have casual sex, because that would make me a hypocrite. Just… when something comes along, and you can’t quite put your finger on what about it makes it so special… don’t let go, alright? Even if it scares you. Promise me.”

“I promise, Victor.” She puts her hand over his, smiling at him genuinely.

He seems to accept her sentiment, shaking his head with a small smile and moving to grab his laundry basket. “You know sweetheart, I’m going to be very sad when you become too good for this old shack.”

“Please. Even when I do manage to get out of here, I’m comin’ back to visit you and drink all your wine.”

“That’s a girl. Next time let me know when you’ve got back home safe, okay? I worry about you when your car’s gone, honey, it’s not safe for pretty young girls in the dark of the night. You know that.”

“I will. If you don’t sunbathe naked anymore.”

“Unfortunately, Genevieve my dear, you cannot ask an old man to make promises when he’s already set in his ways.”

[stardancerluv]

It has been forever since I wrote a fanfic...especially in relation to the Joker. But after seeing the new movie..I was inspired! Not sure if this will end being my take on someone (maybe a young Harley Quinn or a girl seeing him...) I do not own the Joker or anything to do with the movie...I am just following my muse! Here is part 3!

Joker and I

The Dance That Started It All

His Voice - Part 3

She balanced the second bag on her hip as she stuck the key into the lock. Before she could turn it, the door flew open and her aunt was soon looming over her.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Shock spread over her, it took everything in her to not drop the bags.

“Get in here.” And her bony hand grasped one of her arms and pulled her in and shut the door.

“I, I...” she mumbled.

“I have been worried sick. The cops, can’t be bothered two of their own were attacked tonight on the subway, that maniac is at it again. Only this time its cops!” She shrilled on.

She managed to out the bags down on the kitchen counter.

“What?” She asked. “What happened?” She had heard something while in one of the stores but she had not bothered to listen. She shot her window seat a look and saw the scrapbook wasn’t where she left it. Hopefully, she could distract her enough to not get upset about that.

Taking out the milk and eggs, she listened to her go on about how there was a shooting and two cops are now in intensive care. She now put away the juice and was grabbing for the bread when her aunt grew quiet.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“What?”

“This,” she shoved the scrapbook in her face. “I told you to not keep on looking at that.” She could see the strain in her face. “He’s dead!”

“I know.” She finally sobbed. “I miss him. That’s why I keep looking at it.”

“I...you...” her lips twisted as she looked down at her. “Go to your room!” She finally mustered a holler.”

Grabbing her purse, she ran to her room and shut the door.

Panting, she sat on the edge of her bed. Darkness, and even darker shadows draped over her!

She could hear and hoarse cry then silence. She looked at her door, then heard as she flicked on the tv. Voices this time filling the apartment, discussing the incident on the subway with clowns. This movement, made her wonder what her uncle, would have thought of all that. It hurt that thought. She shook her head, shaking the thoughts away.

She leaning over she turned on the lamp on her night stand. Glancing at her door again, she sighed hearing just the news, she turned her attention back to her purse.

Opening it, she took out the tissue. Unfolding it, she smiled looking at the cigarette. Laying down on her side, she put the tissue and her prize beside her.

“Wake up, Murray Franklin is coming on soon!”

The bright light of her, open door and aunt’s voice startled her awake.

She looked at her over her shoulder. She furrowed her brow, “I can come out and watch?” She immediately out a hand over her prize.

She sighed. “I am not a monster.” She gave her a weak smile. “I know how much you love watching it.”

“Ok, I’ll be right out.”

“I made muffins, and I’ll put on some tea.”

“Thank you, auntie.” She said softly.

She nodded and went away.

Looking back beside her, she lifted up her hand. The red had left a smudge on her hand making her smile. Wrapping it up, she put it into her drawer.

Quickly, she changed into her pjs if she was going to get to bed not long after Murray since school was tomorrow.

She went and grabbed a couple of the warm muffins that she slathered with butter and jam, grabbed a cup of tea and curled up on her favorite spot on the sofa. She could still remember all the excitement filled her and aunt up that night. They were able to watch from that front row, Uncle Eddie had been so funny!

“Do you really think he will put on that guy from that awful clip he played a few weeks ago?” Her aunt broke into her thoughts.

She shrugged. “Who knows, maybe he sees potential in him.” The video made her uncomfortable, making fun of someone like that wasn’t very nice of Murray she mused as she bit into one of the muffins.

Her aunt gave a short burst of laughter, “I am funnier then that guy any day.”

“He’s brave, I couldn’t imagine being up on stage or now a live tv show.”

“You are right there.”

“Well, I am glad Murray is on. With all those riots and what you are saying about those cops on the subway, I was worried they cut into our show.”

“Jessica, what happened was tragic.”

She nodded. “It is, but it happens everyday.”

“You kids are so negative.”

She rolled her eyes, “Not you sweetie but in general they are.”

“If I’m so different, why do I have to have a babysitter?”

Her aunt gave her a look, “she’s not a babysitter, she just keeps house while I work.”

She paused and looked at her, “let’s not fight about this.”

“Ok, I’m sorry.”

A smile spread across her face as the familiar music and lights began as the show began.

If she were to be honest, she really didn’t care. One roughed her and a friend of hers up when they tried getting the coffee shop not too long long because they looked like they may cause trouble when not buying anything from that boutique. Though, Murray’s monologue about them getting hurt so bad stuck her. Not soon afterward, he welcome his first guest. The woman, talked about sex...it made her wiggle in her seat...made her uncomfortable to hear about sex so close to her aunt.

Then they played the clip again. She sighed, “This is so sad. Why does he have to show it again.”

Her aunt shrugged.

“And please welcome...Joker!”

She watched as the curtains, pulled aside and out he appeared. Her jaw dropped, it was the man who danced down her steps, he looked amazing! She loved watching as he danced across the stage. She smiled watching him, and couldn’t help giggling as he kissed that odd woman!

“That was unnecessary.” Her aunt rolled her eyes.

Murray continued to make fun of him, even more so when he took out a notebook. It reminded her of her uncle’s scrapbook.

“He’s probably very nervous.”

Her heart beat heavily as she finally heard his voice.

“Oh that was a horrible joke!”

She bit her tongue to not smile wider, something about his dark joke..made her like him all the more, she couldn’t explain it.

“Oh my god, did he really just say that he killed those young men.” Her aunt looked horrified.

“Can’t be true..nah...he’s just trying to be tough after being made fun of so much.”

Her aunt just shook her head. “Horrible..”

The rest went into a blur...

“...then you get what you fucking deserve!”

And she watched in shock as he shot Murray.

“Oh my god!”

All she could do was clasp her hands over her mouth.

[darktammy]

Blood Moon

My Second horror story. this is about the reader heading back home after she found out most of what’s left of her family is dead. From what the stories she was told the reader was that she’s the only female to be born out of nothing but males. This was the work of her father who wish for a little girl with the help of a demon king. While she stays in her new home she meets her new pets, wolves, but there not just mans best friend. after the night of a full moon is past there human once again. The brother’s and sister’s of the wolves pack must keep the reader safe before the next blood moon comes around, for the demon king will take back what was once lost to him.

@stressed-out-heathen @nonnirenea @the-lunatic-a-word @soulmatesifyouwill @cosmic--daydream @instantbouquetdestinysblog

@purpleskiesandcherrypies @missdonna18 @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @ambrollinsbabe

You were sitting in the back of an SUV heading to your aunt and uncle’s old home. The last time you was ever there was...when you was born. You saw your baby pictures that was taken in the home, but you never came back to the home. You always wonder why tho, did it have to do with the evil history the home had? Was all the rumors true that in your family history there was nothing, but boys being born, and that one day your father made a deal with the devil to have a girl which was you? What ever it may be all you know is that both the only people you ever love are now gone just like your parents. Odd how they all died within the same week first your mother she fell down a flight of stairs breaking her neck. Then the next day was your father, he was driving home from work when somehow his brakes stop working causing him to crash right into a tree. Then your aunt from what the story goes she want out into the woods in there backyard to feed some of her dearest pet wolves. From what was found she was attack by one of them left for dead at the same time your uncle came home to found his wife dead in the woods only for him to died right after. The only thing that made his death odd was the fact that he had no scars, no bite marks no nothing. Even the police found this somewhat odd.

You made it to your aunt and uncle's home along with moving storage truck connected in the back. You look over to see the house. Just like the way it was in the photos hauntingly beautiful, but in person it was love at first sight. “So boys just take everything inside once I get the door open.” You said. You head straight for the door up the stairs with the keys that was given to you after they died. You unlock the door opening it just for the lights to come on on their own. “Uh that’s crazy.” You look back telling the men it was ok to bring in your things.

Almost the whole day it took for you to unpack your things, but still have a few more boxes to go which made you very anger. “Oh man it feels like i’m never going to get all this work done.” You said as you fell on the floor. Look up at the ceiling of your new home. “I wonder what else is in this place? I mean it is pretty big. Plus I wonder if the room I was born in still looks the same.” You got up from the floor heading up the stairs, you walk down the hallway passing by some open doors you look inside to see three bedrooms and two bathrooms.

The first room you enter only had a very large size bed nothing much in there, but ok. Then you went into the next room to see a nice Gothic bedroom. You saw the bed it look pretty sweet as you had a big smile on your face. “Nice.” You said as you walk out then you headed to the next one as you look inside much bigger than the other room. “So this was the room I was born in.” You walk up to the bed as you laid init. “So comfy I can just lay in here forever.” You said with a smile on your face. You pulled the bed covers over your body as you look up at the ceiling in your room. “It’s a nice place I love it already.” You got out of bed as you look around your new bedroom. “Yup I’m taking this one.” You said as you started to get undress.

You walk into your bathroom looking at the bathtub you giggled a bit as you turn on the water. “I’m going to love this place.” You said as you pouring in your favorite bubble bath scent. After the tub is filled you got right in just to relax yourself. You look around your bathroom seeing how pretty it look in your eyes. “I love it.” was the last thing you said before you start to doze off.

You open your eyes feeling how the water got cold making you shiver. You look at the window to see it was night fall already. You got out of the tub then you got dress wearing your nightgown. You head off to the kitchen. “How in the world did my uncle get a place like this is beyond me, but I’m loving it. All dark and so mysterious was his touch I don’t know how aunty can deal with him.” You said with a smile. You open the fridge to see the food you unpack when you came in. “I guess chines it is time to reheat this bad boy up.” You said heading for the microwave. You look outside of your kitchen window to see a full moon out tonight. “Nice.” You said with a smile. Then you look to see the woods in the backyard, you remember what the officer told you that your aunt was found died back there. The microwave stop as you open it to take out your food. Then you walk into the living space that your uncle had made.

“Yeah my uncle is very odd, but hey I love it.” You said sitting on the couch. You grab your phone looking at the time seeing it was already late you ate your food. An hour pass as you was watching some horror movies that when you heard it. “Howling? At this time?” You said as you got up and headed to the kitchen window only to see nothing but the woods trees blowing in the wind in the full moon night. You walk to the door that lead to your backyard, you step outside walking towards the woods.Then you saw it as you stop, you saw something coming from the woods. It look pretty big from what you can tell it had blond fur with blue eyes. You shook your head. “What the hell. Is that a wolf?” You said as you walk up towards it. The wolf started walking up towards you as well. You stop dead in your tracks as you saw five more coming out from the woods. “Oh my god!” was all you can say. The other two wolves one was black with some blond fur on one side while the other one was brown, but much bigger than the others. Then you saw that the other three they must be females from the way they look. One had brown fur while the other one had reddish fur with a side cut? Then the last one has pink fur?

You started to walk back from the wolves. “Hey there doggies um...hey I’m going to head back inside because it’s late and I need to head out in the morning.” You said reversely. All five walk up to the blond wolf as they all stood side by side with each other. You started walking backwards to the house as they start walking forward towards you. “Hey now stay back!” You said while walking back right before you can look back you trip over a small rock falling back hitting your head on ground hard. “Ouch! My head!” The wolves stop, seeing that you got hurt. The three female wolves ran to you as the one with the pink fur start to lick your hand while the other two was trying to help you up. The other three males start to walk past you too the house opening the door while you got up holding you head walking back into your house. You walk back in as you headed into the living space sitting down for now. “Oh god that hurts so bad.” You look down to see all six of them either sitting or laying on the floor in the living space. “Oh boy.” You said.

You got up as you headed into the kitchen opening the fridge to take out some water drinking it down. Then you look back to see them looking at you. “Ok then I guess your all in my house now. So here are some rules no peeing or shitting in my house. If you have to use the bathroom you'll go outside.” You pointed at the door in the kitchen. You held your head once again as the wolf with blond hair walk up to you licking your hand. You look down at him then you smiled. “You seem pretty sweet.” You look at the dog tag it had around its neck. “Ambrose. Nice name for wolf.” You said then you look up to see the rest. You walk up to them as you look at the dog tag. “You name is Rollins, yours is Reigns. So all three of you are boys, let see you three over there.” You walk over to see there tags. “Lets see your name is Logon uh just like from Marvel uh?” You said giggling “Ok your name is Morgan, and your name is Riot.” You said looking back at all of them. “I don’t have food right now because I just moved in today.” You said looking at them.

Ambrose start to push you out of the kitchen trying to make you go up to your room. “Hey there little guy clam down will ya.” You said patting his head. The other wolves Rollins and Reigns start to pull you to the stairs which work for some odd reason. “Ok you guys I think I know what your trying to do I getting it. I’m going to bed.” You said walking up the stairs Ambrose started to follow you up the stairs as the other stood down stairs in the kitchen. You walk right into your bedroom head right for your bed. “This is my room Ambrose I’m just going to lay down until who knows what my head hurts.” As you laid down Ambrose jump on your bed licking your face. “Hey, hey it’s alright boy I’ll be fine.” You said wiping your face. You look into his eyes seeing how blue they were, like human eyes. You look at him jumping off the bed as he look back at you one more time before he bark for you to sleep. “Goodnight.” You said closing your eyes pretty much finally sleeping in peace.

Ambrose exited your room then back to his crew. They all laid down in the living space all looking at each other. Reigns stood up as he look at everyone in the room. The others stood up as they look at him. They all took a deep breath as they all howl together. Logan walk off heading to the front part of the house. There was a small door that she was able to open by pulling a small rope. In there was some human cloths for the wolves something you never saw when you moved in. She want back to her group. The morning was coming Reigns nodded his head as they howled one last time before the sun started to rise. Then everyone in the living space start turn there bones breaking hurting them as they start to turn back into human. There howling start to sound like screams of people in pain. The next thing that happen was the wolves now   all laying on the ground holding there bodys feeling the pain from them being wolves.

You open your eyes looking around your bedroom seeing that it was still dark. “Is it morning already?” You said getting out of bed heading to the window opening up the curtains in your bedroom. “Oh I see it’s just cloudy today.” You said walking away from the window. Then you remember the dogs. You ran out your room then down the stairs straight into the kitchen gone. Then right into the living space gone as well. “There gone but how?” As you sat on the floor looking around nothing.

[vagrantblvrd]

Pack Dynamics (1/1)

Summary: There’s a clear hierarchy when it comes to the crew.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who asked for FAHC Myan. :D?

AO3   

There’s a clear hierarchy when it comes to the crew.

Geoff is the boss, except when he isn’t.

Jack is the boss, except when he isn’t.

Ryan is the boss -

“I’m in charge,” Ryan says, like some poor schmuck in one of Geoff’s shitty movies who’s just learned they have three months to live as he reads the note Geoff left for him again. “Jesus Christ, I’m in charge.”

-  when Geoff and Jack finally get their shit together and realize they want in each other’s pants in the romantic way and decide to go off on a “sextravaganza cruise” on Geoff’s stupid yacht.

Out of the corner of his eye Michael sees Gavin and Jeremy share a look. Barely contained glee like a couple of troublemaker kids in a different genre of shitty movies Geoff likes to torture himself with, and then they fist bump each other before running out of the room giggling.

Michael’s never really seen Ryan scared.

He’s seen him focused on the job at hand when they’re out and about wreaking havoc. Seen him determined when shit goes wrong and they’re working on flipping things around. Seen him concerned, worried, when shit really goes wrong and it’s make or break time.

Michael’s seen Ryan happy and relaxed, this little curl to his mouth as the others pull their usual bullshit and everything’s good.

Scared?

Not so much, but now -

Yeah, the fucker’s scared.

For good reason, because with Geoff and Jack out of the picture for the moment, Gavin and Jeremy are going to get the rest of them killed in some horrible way.

Dust off all their shitty little plans they’ve got saved up for days like this. (Jeremy likes to act like he thinks Gavin’s a menace like he’s not as bad. Put the two of them together on anything and you’re bound to regret it sooner rather than later.)

And since Ryan is officially in charge?

He gets to be the one to explain everything to Geoff and Jack when they get back.

“Hey,” Michael says, and claps a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, puts some cheer into his voice because the poor guy looks like he’s going to cry. “Congrats on the promotion.”

========

So the thing about Gavin and Jeremy being the worst?

Absolutely one hundred percent true.

“Oh my God,” Ryan says. “Oh my God.”

The Rimmy Turtle is chugging along a jogging path down by Del Perro Pier with cops in hot pursuit and at least one police chopper overhead.

Gavin’s got his firework launcher going - and even though the news chopper is too far away to pick it up – Jeremy’s got to be cackling his stupid head off.

The camera cuts to people running from the chaos, a few overturned cop cars that are merrily burning away, and they’ve only been gone for half an hour. Forty-five minutes at most.

Any other time and Ryan would be down there too, probably riding that hardcore bike of his with the skulls because he’s got some weird fixation.

Now, though, he’s like some poor dad in a shitty movie dealing with his adorably rambunctious kids and failing spectacularly.

“Yeah,” Michael says, fishing his keys out of the little bowl by the front door. “We should probably make sure they don’t die or something.”

It’s a rule of theirs, the Fake AH Crew, Michael’s pretty sure.

“Should we though?” Ryan asks, plaintive note to it, but he’s pulling on his jacket as he does.

========

“Look,” Gavin says, the moment they’re sure the cops have given up the chase. “What did you expect us to do?”

Parents out of town and the weird uncle in charge, so of course – of course – they were going to pull off a shitty little heist centered around a goddamned dare.

The worst they’ve got are some cuts and a handful of bruises, and the Rimmy Turtle is never going to be the same again, but hey.

No one died. (Yet.)

“I don’t know,” Ryan says, sarcasm on full. “Maybe be a little smarter about things?”

That -

Wow, yeah.

Gavin’s eyebrows shoot up, and Jeremy coughs discreetly behind his hand. Michael stops rooting around the cabinets in the shitty safehouse they’re in and glances over at the others, and Ryan.

Ryan’s massaging his temples like he’s got a bitch of a headache.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s just forget I said that. Clearly I should know better by now.”

You’d think, yeah.

Michael watches Gavin and Jeremy as they shuffle out of the room to patch each other up, and shakes his head.

“Hey,” he says, shifting over to the cabinet over the fridge where he hits pay dirt. “Aspirin or Ibuprofen?”

There’s a long-suffering sigh from Ryan and a thump-rattle as he drops down into one of the kitchen chairs at the crappy table that’s literally on its last legs.

“Surprise me.”

========

“You know,” Ryan says, like some washed-up has been drowning his sorrows in a smokey bar somewhere. “Normally I’d be out there with them.”

It’s only been one day – one (1) fucking day – since the incident at the pier, and Gavin and Jeremy are already causing trouble again.

They haven’t made the news yet, but Matt sent them a link to surveillance cameras showing those two morons breaking into a research lab. Not too alarming, because as prone to causing trouble as though two are, they’re fairly competent.

The alarming part comes in with the second link Matt sent, black vans pulling up to the research labs and Merryweather goons spilling out armed to the teeth.

“Sure, sure,” Michael soothes, taking a sharp right. “I know you would, Ryan.”

If Geoff and Jack were in town Ryan would have come up with some other horrifyingly risky  way to pass the time. Maybe fuck with the FIB or IAA directly to get a little of their own back at Agent 14 and Rackman. (He’s still upset they didn’t get to keep the jetpacks after the clusterfuck with Avon and that AI of his.)

Ryan grumbles, shooting Michael these little looks like he knows he’s being humored but not sure what to do about it without seeming more pathetic than he already does.

“I would, though,” he insists stubbornly.

It should be hilarious, this. Ryan deeply worried he’s turned into a responsible adult when it comes to this kind of shit in spite of himself, but in reality it’s just kind of sad.

Michael reaches over to pat his hand comfortingly because Ryan looks like he could use it.

========

Jeremy loses another car and Gavin sprains his ankle. (No one knows how the hell it happened, but hopefully it will slow them down.)

Ryan gets bruised ribs and this scrape on his face due to him not having an iota of common sense when it comes to his own personal safety. (Also, that part where his Zentorno is going to be in the shop for a good long time and Gavin is footing the bill.)

And Michael got a headache of  his own now. (Three of them, really.)

“Here,” Michael says, handing Ryan a can of his precious diet soda. “You look like you need it.”

Ryan snorts, mouth pulling up into a small smile as Michael sits next to him on the couch with a drink of his own.

“Hitting the hard stuff tonight, huh?” he asks, because he’s still an asshole.

Michael rolls his eyes and cracks open his own diet soda.

“Considering the kind of shit those two have been pulling, I’d rather not drink myself into a stupor just yet.”

Ryan hums, this amused little sound and Michael settles next to him, careful not to put pressure against his ribs.

“I have a new appreciation for Geoff and Jack,” Ryan murmurs, as though he’s going to remember this when they're back and he has some bright idea of his own. “Jesus Christ, do I ever.”

Michael snorts, and taps his can against Ryan’s in solidarity.

========

So the whole crew hierarchy thing is kind of bullshit when it comes down to it.

They listen to Geoff for the big ideas because he’s got some good ones mixed in there with all the shitty ones.

But when it comes to making sure everyone comes out of (mostly) in one piece, that tends to fall to Jack and Michael.

This quiet little pact of theirs born out of watching the others run riot all over town and somehow managing to scrape through situations that should have killed them. (Certainly would have killed anyone else.)

When Geoff and Jack head off on their cruise, Ryan gets a note from Geoff telling him to make sure the city’s still there for them to come back to. Make sure the crew’s still there.

Michael, though.

He gets a note from Jack, asking him to keep look out for the others. Namely Ryan, who makes for a good leader, it’s true, but Gavin and Jeremy are terrible human beings who love fucking with Ryan at times like this.

So.

Ryan tries to keep up with those assholes while Michael looks after Ryan, and like some kind of goddamned miracle, it works.

Which is great, because Michael's kind of attached to these assholes.

[silviasutton1989]

T.T.K. Chapter 17 “Stormholt”

A/N: Hey guys so first I’m not feeling that great today. I have had a headache all day and nothing has even lessened it in the slightest. But on another note I have don’t a new outline for this story and I am seeing the end to this tunnel in 10 to 12 more chapters (maybe...) I honestly did not think it was going to take me this long but I promise I will stick to my outline this time (will you all stick with me till the end??) One more thing this chapter explain who Olivia is and her mother’s motives for her actions. Now if I have some readers who were devoted TC&TF readers please don’t get mad at me if my history on Kenna isn’t canon (I really tried my best. As always I love you all and am so thankful for each comment like and reblog.

Word Count: 2200

Rating: Teen

Catch up: Chapter 1  1.2  2  3  4  5  6  7 8  9  9.2  9.25   10   11   12.1 12.2     13  14  15  16

Summary: Olivia learns about her history, Riley comes to a realization.

“Excuse me? What did you say?” Riley’s attention went directly to the reporter. She tried to keep a calm smile on her face, but as the cameras flashed

“Yes ma’am. We received a statement yesterday. Mister Drake announced a postponement of your nuptials due to unforeseen delays. Do you care to comment on that?”

Riley was never one to be afraid. She blindly left with men she had never known to go to a country she had never heard of on a whim. She had had a gun pointed at her face; heard the gun shot go off and her only thought was if everyone else was ok. The riots were frightful but if there was one thing Riley could handle it was fear. But hearing those words: “Your wedding had been postponed” petrified her.

She stood in front of the crowd a breakfast plate in her hand, her mouth unable to close.  

“Duchess Riley…do you care to comment.”

“I…I…”

“Today we are here to serve these citizens. The duchess will make a full statement when she is able. “ Liam gives her a reassuring look “I do have an announcement that I would like to personally tell the protestors.” Liam walks away from the table clearing his throat before blaring his voice so that the crowd could hear.

 “Everyone, if I may have your attention. I have heard your troubles and I must say that as your king I have failed you. If even one of my people are suffering then my reign is futile. But…I’m going to make this right. When we return to the palace there will be an auction. I will be selling my own valuables to support those in Portovia whose homes and jobs were lost in the constant floods. And I will give it all to you…if it takes everything I own.  I was born to serve my country and until I have nothing else to give I will give it to you all.”

The crowd cheers. A woman, with tears flowing down her check pulls him into a hug thanking him. An older man, who looked somewhat familiar came up to him, his face filled with shame, he takes his king’s hands bowing his head.

“Thank you your highness…I’m so sorry. I just…we needed help here.”

Liam assures him there’s no need to apologize but as the man walks away he feels the chain in his hand. He opens it to see the pearl necklace he had given to Riley.

“This is going to work.” Liam mutters proudly looking around to find Riley but she was rushing through the door of the estate.

“Take a deep breath. In…..Out”

Olivia followed dutifully, not because she believed in this inward spiritual cleansing crap but that during her stay with her aunt she learned that obedience was key to getting any answers from Lucretia. And since Olivia was as stubborn as a mule, she spent most of her 2 weeks there defying her aunt at every turn, meaning she knew no more about her mother than when she got there.

“Now repeat after me: I change my thoughts, I change my world”

“I change my thoughts, I change my world.”

“I want you to believe it. Say it again.”

With a humph Olivia repeats “I change my thoughts, I change my world”

“Good girl…now do you believe it?”

“Sure why not…” Olivia rolls her eyes. She sees Lucretia’s frustrated sigh and quickly straightens her spine. “I believe I can change my world. I hold that power, that it isn’t about who doesn’t love me, but if I love myself.  If I change my perception I can change my whole world….I got it. Now as lovely as slumming it with you and these hippie hobos for 2 weeks have been I would like to be done with this….please just tell me. What do I not know about my mother?”

Lucretia rubs her lips studying her niece. “Ok Olivia. But first there’s something I have been meaning to tell you. Things haven’t been going so great for Liam since you left….There has been… riots.”

Olivia let out a breath but still keeps her posture strong. “any attacks?”

“No he’s fine but the people are protesting against him, and if you ask me it’s pretty well needed. I mean, who does a unity tour after an assassination attempt? Almost half his country was under water last year and he’s going through the towns inviting people to a wedding!” Lucretia laughs but still watches Olivia very carefully. “So….are you going to go save him?”

“No. He is king, he can handle this. My thoughts are on my own world, not his.”

“Your world could be his…” She gives her niece a hard look.

“What does that even mean?”

“Olivia, do you know who Kenna Rhys was?”

“Uh yeah I took Cordonian History like every other grade schooler.”

“Kenna was the Queen to merge all 5 kingdoms. But have you ever wondered why she and any other sovergn had control of all the other kingdoms… but Lythikos?”

Olivia stirs in her seat and shakes her head.

“There’s been some debate over who Kenna married.  Many believed she married Dominic Hunter, a Stormont solider, and one of her oldest friends. And if history is true, after the death of Kenna and Dominic’s only child, there was no direct heir.  Kenna’s relatives had died so the throne went to Dominic’s family, who were nobles of Fydoria.  If that is true then Liam is the true heir to the throne because he is Dominic’s direct descendant…”

“Uh-huh” Olivia nods trying to follow along.

“But your mother believed that Kenna did not marry Dominic, she married Diavolos Nevarkis. And that would mean…” Lucritia waits for her niece to answer.

“That would mean that I am the heir to the throne?”  Her brows furrow as she sees the smile spread across her aunt’s face. “But wait, that doesn’t make any since. If she married Diavolos we would have had the throne centuries ago.”

“The only records we have of Kenna and her marriage was at least 100 years after her death. Kenna only had one child. When he died Stormholt was going through one of its biggest wars. Kingdoms all around knew that the country had lost their only surviving monarch decided to take it over. The Nevarkis’ and Dominic’s family from Fydoria and many other leaders form the 5 kingdoms were working together to keep the country intact. While our ancestors were in the battlefield fighting for our country, Constantine’s ancestors stayed at the capitol building alliances, gaining more territory, they even changed the name from Stormholt to Cordonia. The war lasted for decades and when our ancestors came back from war to rule the land they had risked their lives for, the Hunters who by then went by the name Rhys’ had enough support from the other five kingdoms to send us back to Lythikos. They changed the whole story claiming that Diavolos was simply one of Kanna’s many consorts and all it took was power and time before that lie to become Cordonia’s history.”

Olivia blankly stares at her aunt giving her brow a troubled rub. “Ok Aunt Lucy you made me meditate for 2 weeks so that you could tell me that a million years ago my thousands of great uncle married the queen of Cordonia, so by proxy it belongs to me.” She shakes her head and laughs. “This happened centuries ago, by now it doesn’t matter who she married Liam has the throne. What am I supposed to do with this? Take over the country? Even with proof, if the country had to choose me over him, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard of a choice.”

“Stop selling yourself short Olivia. I may have been living in No man’s Land but the press has been praising you for weeks, the people are rioting against Liam. You can take your throne and be the queen your mother died for you to be!”

“How am I supposed to do that? Even if this whole story is actually true, I have no proof, I have no support. I have no one!”

“Your mother had proof. I don’t know what it was or where it is now. But I know a few people who may be able to help you.”

Lucretia took a step towards Olivia whose bottom lip was lodged between her teeth, her thoughts clearly spinning in her head. She spoke carefully, “Persephone was one woman, who created her own army, and Kenna was one woman who claimed her country back. Your mother didn’t just wake up and decided she wanted to be queen she found out she truly was one and refused to be told anything different. I think that once you realize it too, once you realize that there’s a crown on your head even though you can’t see it you will change your world just like she tried to.”

“My mom had an army?” she couldn’t hide the prideful smile appearing on her face.

“Yes she did...and you know who they are."

There was a not in Hana’s stomach that wouldn’t go away. She went to the palace to give Riley peace of mind, to bring Drake back to her friend. But yesterday did not go as plan, when Drake left the ball room he never came back.

She saw Riley bounding down the hallway and gave her best smile. “Hey Riley I’m back from….” Riley walks right past her. “Riley are you ok?”

Her friend turns the corner and doesn’t give an answer. Not too far behind her Maxwell and Liam  are following her trail.

“He Hana Banana! Have you seen Riley?”

“Yeah she just walked right past me. Is she ok?”

“No Drake suspended the wedding.” Liam responds through clenched teeth.

“He did what!” The trio reaches Riley’s door slowly opening it unsure of what they would find. There running back and forth through her room was their friend, throwing every bit of clothing she could get her hand on into her luggage.

“I’m leaving.” She said plainly, marching to her closet, flinging the clothes with the hangers still attached onto her bed. “He doesn’t want to marry me. Fine I’m going home.”

“Riley he didn’t say the wedding was off just that it is postponed. Maybe the dates for the caterers are conflicting. You should talk to him before jumping to…” Liam takes a step towards her but she pushes past him to her suitcase stuffing more clothes into it.

“He won’t talk to me! I have called and texted him every night. He doesn’t respond. I don’t get it I did what he wanted me to do. I too our time apart seriously and then out of the blue he just does something like this….What did I do so bad?” She stops for a moment looking at her friends hoping they would give her an answer.

Hana speaks with clenched eyes “Riley. It’s my fault. I went to go see him yesterday and…well you and Liam were getting close and I got scared. I told him to come back with me…to come and get you before you two did something you would regret later. I was trying to help. I’m sorry I didn’t think he would do this I’m so sorry.”

Before Riley could say anything Hana began to sob, Maxwell quickly taking her into his arms to console her.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I didn’t appreciate Drake. I knew I loved him more than Liam months ago, I didn’t need this break to figure that out and I should have told him that instead of playing along.”  She looks at her discarded clothes splayed over her bed. One of Drake’s white T’s lays in front of  her, it was one of the only things he left behind and she never wore it, too afraid his scent would fade away.

“I’m going to get him back.”

254 candles. 

Riley beamed as she basked in her work. A candle for each day she had known Drake. She was convinced this would work, as she lit the very last one. 

She spent her last week on tour getting ready for tonight. She found the perfect lingerie - a black lace holster set (Drake had always loved her in black). She had her nails done waxed and even straightened her hair. Tonight needed to be a fantasy he needed to remember why he loved her.

She could hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the door and her nerves began to heighten.

Is the bath water hot enough?

Do I have enough condoms?

She scurried around the room making sure everything was in its place, before stopping at a mirror.

Is this enough? Am I really enough?

She didn't have time to answer as the door swings open, Drakes large body taking u the space of the door frame. She quickly lifts her chest and splays her best sultry smile.

His eyes widen,"Surprise! I came back early.....Did you miss me?"

Her smile was weakening as she waited for him to answer. But he didn't speak, only scanning her body and all the candles lit around them. She waited for a smile, a smirk, just the tiniest hint that he was happy to see her. But there wasn't any.

Tag List:  If you want to be on the tag list permanently (this one is randomly selected with some permanent in as well)  let me know. If you DO NOT want to be tagged ever just send me a message I will not be upset.

@walkerismychoice@darley1101@speedyoperarascalparty@mfackenthal @jadedpixiescribbles@boneandfur @andy-loves-corgis   @blackcatkita@missevabean@snyggflicka@stopforamoment @agent-bossypants@endlessly-searching-for-you @indiacater@tmarie82 @umccall71@hopefulmoonobject @choices97 @blubutterflyy @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @itsmychoicebih @kinkykingliam

@liam-rhys     @blznbaby  @viktoriapetit@alicars@mrsdrakewalkerblog@walkerisbae@butindeed@greyeyedsmile14@gingerjane15@barbaravalentino@mymandrake @client327@choicesbyjade@drakesfianceee @caroolhr@drakelover78@drakewalkerrosenberg@youwontlikewherewewillgo @grumpycommoner @drakewalkerfics

[chasholidays]

Bellarke version of the princess diaries 2 with one of them attempting to prevent the royal wedding (to third party), whilst falling in love with the prince/princess. Thank you, and you are truly incredible!

Clarke thought she knew exactly how stupid it would be to see Bellamy before her wedding. She knew all the reasons she shouldn’t have seen the person she isn’t marrying, the one she’s actually in love with, the one whose sister has a claim to her throne if anything goes wrong with this wedding. She thought she had assessed all the risks and decided it was worth it anyway.

But she hadn’t known all the risks. She hadn’t thought he’d betray her.

“We can spin this,” her mother is saying. “It’s not great, but it’s not–”

“It’s not royal behavior,” says Queen Katherine, her voice icy. No one can disapprove like a queen, especially a queen who’s also your grandmother.

“I was talking to a friend,” Clarke protests. “That’s not spin. That’s the truth. Just because it turned out I was wrong about our friendship doesn’t mean–”

“Don’t act like you went out there that night to be with your friend, Clarke,” says Abby. “You’re getting married, and–”

“And that’s bullshit!” She doesn’t mean to say it, but it’s the truth too, as important a truth. “It’s bullshit that getting married is supposed to magically make me a ruler. If he died tomorrow, I could still be queen, as long as I was married once.”

“Don’t say that,” says Indra, mild. “It makes it sound like you’re planning to assassinate your own husband.”

“You know what I mean. I can be just as good a ruler with or without a husband.”

“I specifically told you to stop seeing that boy,” says her grandmother. Given she and Abby aren’t actually related, it’s amazing how similar they are. Clarke honestly can’t believe that Katherine disapproved of the marriage.

But there were strict rules about what her father’s marriage could look like.

“I wanted to see him,” she snaps, reflexively, and it’s the wrong thing to say for a thousand reasons.

“Which doesn’t speak well to your judgement. A friend who betrays you–”

“From everything I’ve seen, he didn’t betray her,” Indra interjects, and this time all three of them whirl on her. “I looked into it.”

“And you’re only telling me this now?” Clarke adds.

She shrugs. “I don’t know how much it matters. After all, the main issue remains.”

“Main issue?” asks Clarke.

“The footage is damning, regardless of anything else. Just because Bellamy wasn’t aware of the deception, that doesn’t mean it’s not a problem. But he does seem to have been innocent of all wrong-doing.”

“If he wasn’t doing anything wrong then what was he doing?” Katherine demands.

“Saying goodbye,” Clarke says, less to them than just in their presence. It’s for her. But since they’re there, she adds, “He just–he wanted to say goodbye. That’s what he told me.”

“You’re getting married, not dying.”

She feels exhausted, suddenly. “I stopped my flirtation with him, like you told me I had to. That doesn’t mean I stopped having feelings for him. You know as well as I do what my getting married will do to our friendship.” She exhales, getting her feelings under control. “But it doesn’t matter. Like Indra said, all that matters is how we deal with the fallout of the video. It doesn’t affect anything else. Wells and I are getting married this afternoon. And Bellamy and I are–nothing.”

Her grandmother watches her, a small frown on her face. “I am sorry,” she finally says. “I know this is not–the life of a princess is not an easy one, and I did you no favors when I told you this was your future. It isn’t all balls and true love’s kiss, in real life.”

“No,” she agrees. “But I know my duty. I’ll do what has to be done.”

*

“So,” says Wells. It’s bad luck to see him before the wedding, but they have fallout to deal with. He deserves an explanation. “That guy. Bellamy?”

“Yeah, Bellamy.”

“Why aren’t you marrying him? I remember seeing you two dancing at the ball. He seems like a good prospect.”

“He’s not royal. Not even noble. He was there with his sister. Who’s apparently my heir, until I produce another one. So it’s this whole–” She sighs. “His family was working to dethrone me, because I’m not a good ruler.”

“You know that’s bullshit, right?” he asks. “You’re going to be a great queen, Clarke.”

“I hope so.” She bites the corner of her mouth. “But I don’t think I can marry you.”

“I was thinking that too.”

Her smile aches a little. “You were?”

“I want to do what’s best for my home, my country, my people. But I want to do what’s best for myself too.”

“I get that. But–I think this might be easy for me.”

“Which part?”

“What’s best for all of those is the same thing, I’m pretty sure.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

This time, her smile is sure. “I need a really good speech.”

*

As Wells said, Clarke did meet Bellamy first at a ball. He was hard to miss, handsome and charming, but more importantly just a little bit lost. A little like Clarke herself felt, honestly.

When she asked what he was doing there, he answered honestly: he was escorting his sister. In fact, he basically always told her the truth, or at least most of it. He’d been honest about the fact that he thought monarchy was an outdated practice, that he thought the country would be better off with someone who understood the perspective of the common citizen. He and Clarke had bickered about it, her pointing out that she had lived most of her life as a common citizen and Bellamy shooting back that she hadn’t been an Arcadian citizen.

She’d thought that if he was one of the choices for marriage, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Now, though, she knows he isn’t. Even if he didn’t ask to see her the other night because he wanted to see her, he’s still not someone she can marry. She’s a princess, and she needs to marry a prince, not a man whose mother married into the nobility after he was born.

But if he isn’t trying to keep her from being queen, she assumes that means he wants to help.

“Clarke!” he says, when he picks up his phone. “Fuck, I’ve been calling all morning, I wanted to apologize, O’s uncle, he–”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I know it wasn’t your idea. My head of security filled me in. That’s not why I called.”

There’s a pause. “Uh, okay. Then why are you calling?”

“You’re a speechwriter.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m writing a speech to give about why I’m not getting married today that’s hopefully going to convince parliament to change the law about my not being able to be queen. I’ve got most of it done, but I could use another set of ears.”

Another pause. “So, I don’t need to come to your wedding and try to talk you out of it? Because these YouTube videos about how I’m supposed to tie this tie aren’t really helping much, so it would be good if you already changed your mind.”

“I’ve never been the one who needs to be convinced this is a shitty idea,” she points out. Her smile is so big it almost hurts. “I always thought it was a bad law. I’ve been trying to change it, and this is my last chance. So I need to bring my A-game.”

“You came to the right guy,” he says. “After we got O on the throne, the next step was taking out that law.”

Clarke smiles. “So, your plan was to use a shitty law to dethrone me and then immediately get the law overturned so she wouldn’t have to marry some random guy?”

“Like you said, it’s a shitty law. So tell me what you’ve got and I’ll tell you if you’re missing anything.”

“This isn’t getting you out of coming the wedding, by the way.”

“No?” he asks, sounding surprised.

“I’m hoping I’m going to have something to celebrate after. And I want you to be there.”

“You do?”

“I kind of like you,” she says, and there’s another pause.

“Okay, well. Let’s get this thing done,” he says, voice thick. “And then I’ll figure out how bow ties work.”

“It’s not really going to be a wedding. You don’t have to dress up.”

“I still want to look nice,” he says. “Read me your speech.”

*

It’s not hard to come up with a whole list of reasons the Arcadian tradition is archaic and unfair, including its inherent misogyny and homophobia, and apparently her parliament likes her well enough that their response to an ultimatum about changing the job or losing her as the heir is changing the law.

So she doesn’t get married, but they’re still set up for a big party, and as far as Clarke’s concerned, they have a lot to be grateful for.

Unfortunately, everyone else seems to feel the same, because they all want to talk to her, tell her how happy they are, how they always supported her, and it feels like hours before she disentangles herself from the politicians and finds enough space to breathe.

“To your left, in the corner,” Indra says, low, and Clarke follows her gaze to spot Bellamy, looking slightly awkward in the corner with his sister. He’s more dressed up than she’s seen him since the first time he met, but this time he didn’t slick his hair back or put in his contacts. His glasses are sliding down his nose and his hair is a riot of curls.

She told him she liked him better like this, and he listened.

“Can you watch but not stay that close?” she asks Indra. “There’s security everywhere. I just want to pretend I have some privacy.”

“I do love pretending I’m not here,” she says. “Good luck.”

Octavia notices her first, raises her flute of champagne in Clarke’s direction with a wry smile. “Congratulations on getting the law changed. Honestly, I’m relieved.”

“Really?” Clarke asks.

“I know Bell was convinced I’d be a good queen, but I think I can do more good outside the monarchy. Plus, if they didn’t change the law I would have had to marry some noble I’d never met. That would have sucked.”

“Glad I could help. I did it for you, obviously.”

She smirks. “Yeah, for me. Which reminds me, I have to go talk to–” She casts around, clearly trying to find someone whose name she can use. “Lord Kane. Good to see you!”

“Subtle,” Clarke tells Bellamy, and he rubs the back of his neck, flushing slightly.

“I told her she needed to come so I’d have backup.”

“You need backup?”

“I wasn’t sure.” He clears his throat. “Not that I’m not glad you’re not married, but that means you’re going to be the queen. I assume you’ll be–busy.”

“I will be. But I could use someone I trusted to talk to. Give me feedback on my speeches. Consult about important issues.”

He looks her up and down, dubious. “You want to hire me?”

“No, that’s not–if you want a job writing speeches for me, you can have it, but that’s not really what I was thinking.”

“Which was?”

He’s smiling, so she can too. “I’m not really ready to get married yet, honestly. But I wouldn’t mind dating. You, specifically.”

“I didn’t think queens dated.”

“I think we can do what we want.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not true. If the last few weeks of trying to derail your coronation taught me anything, it’s that you really can’t. You technically couldn’t marry me if you wanted to. Not that I’m, uh–”

“I bet that’s a law we could get changed if we wanted to. And it’s not like we’re in a hurry, right? We can figure it out later. When it comes up. But maybe we should start with dinner.”

He offers his hand. “How about starting with a dance?”

She takes it, feeling his fingers close around hers, rough and warm. “I’d love to.”

*

A year later, he puts a draft of an amendment to the law about female members of the royal family having to marry titled nobles to retain their own status and property.

“It’s not homophobic, but it is misogynistic,” he says. “I think you should be able to get it changed.”

She smiles, scanning over the papers. “Thanks. Any particular reason you want me to look into it?”

“I figure you might want to get married someday. You want to have your options open. In case there’s a commoner who’s planning to make you dinner and propose soon. Just for example.”

“Soon?”

“As soon as the law changes, probably.”

“So I should work on it now, is what you’re telling me.”

“Just if you want to get married soon. I know royal weddings can take a while, so–”

“So let’s get the law changed and see if we can find a commoner to propose to me.”

He grins. “Yeah. I don’t think it’ll be too hard.”

[clown-bait]

29 Neibolt ST (Monster Roommate AU) CH 30

Oh god this one got long but like so much happens man. And before you get mad I’m not sorry for what I did. Also I’m a sucker for Robert getting super proud of his trashpire and being unintentionally supportive. Like he goes out of his way to be a mean evil bastard but at the end of the day he’s secretly gonna be like “Don’t tell anyone but.. I’m proud of you and if anyone says otherwise I’ll rip out their organs. <3” he luv his trashpire. So yeah shit goes down have fun.

music for this chapter:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0TzUNti3rY

play at the beginning for maximum comedic effect.

CH 30

Lets Get Ready to Die

“Mmmm Leech you’re so tense” Robert mumbled into her skin. “Do I frighten you love?” he smiled into her continuing his assault on her neck. He pulled slightly away when she didn't respond to his nips “Love?” he removed himself completely and stared at her blank face with a puzzled look. “Leechie?” he waved his injured hand in front of her face. He turned his head to see what had his nosferatu so stunned and before he could react she exploded out of his arms screaming like a banshee.

“ADAM!!!” She howled limbs flailing frantically through the crowd to get to the fleeing ghost from her past. “AAAAADDDAAAM!!! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD YOU SON OF A BITCH” she roared and shoved an unsuspecting Chucky into the wall of enraged muscle that was Michael Myers. Who threw the former doll into the Babadook spilling the grief monster’s drink all over himself and his large new boyfriend Pyramid Head. The two former monsters stared at eachother from across the room and charged. Soon a domino effect of punches began.

“CLUB FIGHT!” Freddy yelled right before Jason broke a chair over him. Robert took off after his mate who could be heard shrieking obscenities over all the chaos around her. As a creature of destruction Robert was a bit impressed that his mate could cause so much discord and pandemonium within a matter of minutes. Maybe there was such a thing as destiny after all.

“I AM GOING TO RIP OUT YOUR ENTRAILS AND WEAR THEM LIKE A FUCKING SCARF YOU POMPUS PIECE OF SHIT” She screeched tearing through people to get to the man trying to shake her off. She finally caught up to him and smashed a bottle on a table pointing it at her ex-lover “I WILL BATHE IN YOUR BLOOD AND MAKE MY MATE LICK IT OFF! GET READY TO DIE AGAIN FUCKER!” Leech let out a roar and charged but was smacked in the ribs by a flying bar stool, her small frame never standing a chance. Adam took his chance to slink into the surrounding chaos and Leech directed her rage at the person who threw the stool. Poor Ghostface didn't realize the mistake he had made till he felt the fist collide with his mask. Leech was fuming mad, how the hell was that manipulative asshole still alive? Ash must have fucked up the words again. This is what she gets for trusting a human. Someone pulled her off the poor serial killer and Leech spun around punching whoever it was in the nose, Freddy stumbled back holding his face “Jesus Fangs its me calm down!” he shouted

“He’s fucking back Fred! HE’S FUCKING BACK!”

“Yeah yeah everyone heard you screaming. You know, you didn't have to break my damn nose!”

“I need to kill him right now. I’m mortal at the moment and theres no doubt he’ll be after me!”

“Look you wanna have your little soap opera that’s fine, but lets focus on getting everyone back to normal first then you can go stabbing anyone you want yeah? I’m fuckin tired of being able to die.”

Leech stared at her friend her chest heaving and fresh blood poured from a cut on her forehead and onto her lip. She shut her eyes flicking out her tongue to taste it. “All right, fine. Let’s find the damn kid so I can get my revenge and get back to my god damn life.” she snarled.

The doors of the club opened and Uncle Bob entered the club with a still very confused Dracula in tow holding a dirty burlap sack.

“Man oh man Drac this sure sounds like……some…..party…what the hell is this?” the scene was pure chaos former monsters revealing their true natures and attacking eachother left and right, there were even a few small fires in the corner. The two stared in shock  “We’re gone for three hours. THREE HOURS and you guys start a damn riot. HOW??”

“Leech did it.” Freddy pointed at the former vampire.

“I…..yeah I guess I did well shit….” she said looking around at the scene. “You know this is actually pretty impressive I’d be proud if the stakes werent high.” she gave the duo a cocky grin to which both elder monsters shook their heads to.

“Jesus Dracula you chose this walking disaster as your apprentience?”

“De ce este totul pe foc?” (why is everything on fire?) the older vampire responded wide eyed.

“I need to have a talk with junoir about his taste in women….speaking of where is the brat?”

“No idea actually…” Leech glanced around the room. “This could be a problem I may have accidently got him shit-faced.”

“You did what now?!” Uncle Bob stomped forward and bore down on her.

“Look I didnt know he was going to be a lightweight in human form!”

“I ASKED YOU TO LOOK OUT FOR HIM AND YOU PULL THIS SHIT?”

“I’m his mate not his keeper.”

“HES MORTAL RIGHT NOW AND A COCKY IDIOT AND YOU GOT HIM DRUNK!”

“Are you guys talking about Jingles?” Chucky said crawling out with Tiffany from under a table

“We saw him leave out the back.” Tiff said pointing to the back exit.

“Oh god he left the building?” Leech was starting to get worried now. She let her rage blind her once again and it put someone she loved in danger.

“Guys I know we all care about jingles’ well being but we only have a few hours left of halloween and if we dont find that little orange brat were stuck like this” Freddy complained dodging a thrown bottle.

“All right then grab the giant lets get the kid and fix this mess.” Uncle Bob grabbed the sack from Dracula and opened it seeing if there was anything useful to bring him out.

“I thought I saw him before Vorhees hit me with a chair he’s here somewhere.” Freddy grumbled and began to push back into the fighitng crowd the rest of the gang folling him. Leech turned the other direction of her friends heading for the back exit.

“Fangs come on.” Uncle Bob shouted.

“I’m going to find him.”

“Yeah and we’ll have better luck working together come on.” Freddy growled at her.

“No I’m going to find Adam. I’m going to find him before he kills me or Robert.”

“Leech this is not the time for fuckin heroics. Besides thats not really our forte.” the dream demon said stepping forward.

“Who said anything about being heroic.” the vampire said darkly pulling a large knife from her coat.

“Huh i thought this was an edge free event.” Tiffany chimed in slightly puzzled.

“Plucked it off Ghostface before he could use it on me.” she said cooly fiddling with the blade.

“Fine if you want to go save your stupid damsel in distress then by all means go get yourself killed once again because thats probably going to be the result.” Freddy rolled his eyes.

“Are you implying you actually give a shit about me Fred?” Leech smirked.

“Nah, you still owe me for that last half ounce. Can’t have you kickin the bucket till you pay me back.”

Leech smiled at the dream demon. “You know for a bunch of selfish murderers you guys sure are big softies.” the gang grinned back at her “Dont fuck up I expect to be bald next time I see all of you.”  

“Go save your idiot Fangs.”

The former vampire tipped the knife to her head in a mock salute and slipped out the door.

——————-

Leech briskly walked through the cool october air behind the night club. It was eerily quiet compared to the chaos inside and the ex-vampire tightened her grip on the stolen blade in her hand. With the 7pm curfew still in effect most people were off the streets at this hour leaving her alone and exposed. She had grown quite friendly with the night becoming nearly nocturnal since the sun rapidly drained her energy. This atmosphere was normally comforting to her but something felt off and she felt vulnerable. Leech approaced an alleyway and proceeded down the poorly lit path eyes darting around in the night. She was desprately missing her heightened hearing and nightvision right now. Something stumbled and shuffled behind her she wasnt alone. The vampire gripped her knife and spun around with a snarl only to have her wrist caught by a large hand missing a finger. Robert Gray held the side of his head and stared into his mates wild murderous eyes. Leech immediately released the tension in her muscles dropping the knife in her hand and falling into him.

“Holy shit youre not dead!” she gasped squeezing her mate tight as if letting him go would cause him to vanish.

“I feel dead” he grumbled his eyes were red and bloodshot he had clearly sobered up thanks to the cold. They broke apart and leech picked up her knife.

“Adam’s back.”

“I’m aware.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Same thing we always do, kill the problem.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” she grinned at him. “I uh I was worried about you.”

Roberts lip twitched up slightly “Were you now?”

“Don’t make fun of me for it.”

“I’d never.” he smirked shoving her lightly.

“Liar.”

he chuckled and placed his hands on his mate’s cheeks his thumbs tracing over a fresh bruise. “Would you like to destroy our enemy with me my love?”

“Mmmmm I love it when you talk dirty to me.” she grinned up at him a slight blush grew on her cheeks.

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Its a date then.” robert whispered and pressed their lips together.

Leech followed behind he mate through dark alleyways till they got to the park in the center of town. She lightly touched Robert’s arm as they approached a large tree “Hey. there’s only an hour left of Halloween left and were still not back to normal.” she said with concern.

“If we are trapped like this then we’ll find another way. There’s always another way.”

“I just miss us….and killing things” she glanced off to the side “…but mostly us.”

“I know kitten.”

Robert held Leech close to him and stroked her hair. He rarely ever hugged her like this but figured now was an acceptable time to do it. The former clown sighed and looked up locking eyes with the small boy sitting in the tree eating a pumpkin lollipop. Robert froze in realization.

“You………YOU!” he shouted casting his mate to the side.

“Bob what the he- oh!”

“Grab him!” he hissed

The boy stood up on the branch.

“WAIT DONT LEAVE!” Leech shouted wishing she could still climb walls. The spirit leapt from the branch and Leech sprinted towards him. Robert closed the gap faster with his longer legs racing ahead of her and just barely grazing the burlap mask on his head. The kid was fast, unaturally fast. The former clown dove and grabbed the halloween god’s feet causing him to fall forward and drop his precious lollipop. Robert clawed at him yanking him back into his grasp the spirit began to make strange shrieking sounds reaching out with his small hands. Leech caught up to them panting and Robert pinned the child spirit to the ground in fury.

“CHANGE ME BACK!” he roared. The spirit squirmed and flailed in his grasp. “CHANGE ME BACK BEFORE I SPILL YOUR INSIDES!” the former clown slamed the spirit on the ground.

“Hey not really sure if shake and yell is actually going to work here Bob”

“STAY OUT OF IT LEECHIE!” he snarled at her clearly in a feral mood. The creature under him was reaching for something straining with his short little arms. Leech put too and two together and picked up the pumpkin lollipop. “Robert wait let me try something!” she shouted.

The former monster turned to his mate in fury. “Please! Shake and yell is clearly not going to convince him!” he was fuming mad and panting hard but stopped his assualt his grip still tight on the boy.

“Sam right? This is what you want yeah?” she held out the sucker and pulled it away before the boy could grab it “If I give it to you will you help us?” the spirit said nothing but its hand shot out reaching for its treat. Leech tenitavely held it back out to him and sam swiped it out of her hand. They stared at eachother for a brief second then the spirit stabbed Robert in the arm with the candy. The former clown roared in pain releasing the spirit.

“HEY WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR!?” she screamed after it as she tried to tend to her mate’s wound. “Don’t let him get away! go!” he shouted at her pushing her off. Leech got up to chase after the creature but before she could catch up to him something smacked it hard in the head with a metal pole. The spirit fell back and pumpkin seeds oozed out of his mask.

“One monster down two to go.” Adam growled and tightened his grip on the rod.

“You bastard!” Leech hissed.

“You’re the one who eats people. You know, the first thing I thought when I woke up was that I was going to rid this town of you horrible creatures. They’ll probably call me a hero.”

“You’re equally horrible Adam!”

“At least I dont kill people.”

“Pff People. What have people ever done for me other than rejected me for who I am? Now they are the sheep and I am the wolf. Its my turn to be on top.”

If there was one thing Leech never had when she was with Adam it was confidence. She had almost none when she first arrived at Neibolt. It wasn’t until she rejected her humanity and began growing close to the clown that she finally felt power. He may not have meant to, but Pennywise made her strong. Now standing in front of her arch enemy she radiated that strength. Leech took a few bold steps forward oozing confidence.

“I am the mate of the eater of worlds. I am the right hand of destruction. Go on,” she said with a wicked grin “Try to stop me, I’ll just kill you again and again until it sticks.”

“You also don’t have a weapon.” Adam smirked and spun the metal rod.

She opened her mouth to speak then shut it. “I-huh” she reached in her jacket for her knife. Leech went still remembering that she dropped it to help Robert. “Well shit.”

Adam grinned and charged her swinging the pole like a bat at her head. Leech braced for impact when a knife blocked the blow. “The right hand of destruction. I like it.” her mate grinned at her shoving her assailant back.

“Its a working title I havent committed to anything yet.”

Out of the corner of her eye Leech saw the little pumpkin spirit stumble to its hands and knees. She glanced over to robert who took a blow to his injured arm. “Go.” he hissed as blood spattered his face.

“Aw but I want to be the one to kill him again” she whined and Robert glared.

“Leechie go.” he snarled kicking Adam in the chest with a spider web patterned boot.

“Hey before I do, dont die all right?”

“Oh that I can promise dear, but you aren’t allowed to die either understand?”

“Been there done that.” she laughed. Robert smiled at her before being smacked in the side with the metal rod. Leech yelled but the look on her mate’s face told her to go and she knew he was right. Robert Gray was tough but he wasnt Pennywise and he wasn’t immortal. Leech began to run following the trail of pumpkin guts and seeds down an alley street.

The trail turned a corner but before she could round it she caught a glimpse of several figures making their way towards her. She spun around only to see several more behind her. The figures came to veiw. They were her fellow monsters from the party, all beat up and bruised being led by the hell priest Pinhead.

“VAMPIRE!” he roared as Michael Myers and Pyramid Head pinned her to the wall, the angry mob of former monsters gathered around them. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

“Ok first, you can lead off with a simple hello its not that hard.” Myers slammed her into the wall hard and she nearly passed out from the impact. “Two-fuck-” she wheezed “I didn’t do anything, you all didn’t have to start punching each other.”

“You nearly destroyed my establishment!”

“Oh come on it wasn’t that bad!”

“Chatterer lost an eye!”

“How is that a problem?! He didn’t have eyes before!”

“That’s not the point!” the Cenobite leader growled “You will pay for this vampire. You may be the clown’s mate but you must suffer the consequences for your actions.”

“Now, now friends let’s not get carried away here-“ Leech laughed nervously as the mob closed in.

“Burn her!” someone shouted.

“Cut out her tongue!” came another. Clearly she wasn’t the most popular monster.

The mob drew closer and Leech began to panic. Robert was busy and her friends were no where to be seen. She was done for.

“AHEM!” a gruff voice shouted. Six familiar figures emerged from the darkness.

“If you all want to continue living in our little slice of murder heaven here I suggest you put Fangs down and help us out!” Freddy called out followed by the rest of her adopted family.

“Oh thank fuck” Leech sighed in relief.

“Everyone listen up, we got the pumpkin boy’s magic bag here and I got a feeling he wants it back. We find him, give it back and then we all go back to being our regular old spooky selves yeah? I don’t know about all of you but that sounds like a way better alternative than taking out our anger on a vampire.”

“Also Pennywise is currently fighting to the death out in the park so we kinda have to hurry. If he dies were all fucked.” Leech chimed in and glared at Pinhead. “So whats it gonna be? Cut out my tongue or help fix this mess?”

The hell priest sighed and shut his eyes “Perhaps we will discuss your punishment later vampire. Release her.” the two silent giants obeyed and Leech uncerimoniously dropped to the ground. She dusted herself off and walked to the head of the mob.

“All right everyone follow me.”

————————-

Robert coughed and sputtered as he once again fell to the ground. He was injured, hungover and had an extreme disadvantage. The eldritch began to curse this human body’s weakness and hopped for his mate to succeed so he could return to full power. Once back to normal Adam wouldn't have the power of the necronomicon on his side and would be easily dispatched. Robert would just have to survive long enough to regain his powers then victory would be his. A kick to the head drew him back out of his thoughts. The former clown roared and slashed at his opponent with the stolen knife. Adam dodged and swung his metal rod down at Robert’s head who caught the weapon and kicked his enemy back. What was taking Leech so long the spirit was injured he couldnt have gone that far. He glanced over to where his mate had ran off to and saw her pinned to the wall by an angry mob. Fantastic. Of course hed have to do everything himself. Now he had to kill this intruder AND fight his way through an angry mob to save his mate. This day couldnt go any more wrong for him.

“You know clown I must thank you I dont think I’d ever be able to get control of my body back after the two of you killed it and let it become possessed.” Adam began. “The kandarians told me she died shorty after they stabbed her and I must ask you, did you enjoy tearing out her throat just as much as you did making her into a disgusting monster?”

Robert snarled and lunged at him. Adam caught him with the pole. “Disgusting?” Robert scoffed “You were a fool to throw away such a powerful creature, I simply did what you could not and unlocked her full potential. Your failure gave me my queen.” The former clown smiled wickedly.

“Yeah from what I saw over there with the mob, it wasnt much potential.” Adam smirked.

“You’re wrong. I think someone is jealous that their own creation has surpassed them.” Robert growled. Adam threw him off and slammed him into the back of a large tree. The former clown sneered and smashed his forehead into his opponent’s skull. They both stumbled then Adam roared and sprinted forward. Robert snarled back and met his assault with a charge of his own both headed straight for each other in a final burst of energy. With only one coming out on top.

Leech jogged out of the alleyway with the burlap sack slung over her shoulder the little pumpkin spirit nowhere to be found. Her small army of monsters followed behind her if she couldn’t find Samhain at least she could lead her troops into battle. And they would fight, no Pennywise meant no illusions and no illusions meant Derry was no longer safe for killers. She froze when she got to the tree the mob in back of her slowing to a stop as well. A man in a Spiderman costume stood pinned against it. A metal rod pierced through his gut and into the bark behind him. His body hung limp and blood dripped down from his plump soft lips. The vampire’s entire world crumbled in mere seconds. She was too late, Robert Gray was dead.

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

Whoops I killed the clown.

[imdrunkandreviewingshit-blog]

Sober Review of “Detroit”: Why Haven’t You Seen It Yet?

I know, I made a promise. And I broke it. And believe you me, I feel terrible about it. But, on the other hand, I really don’t, and this is for two reasons. One, my family paid to take me out to the movies, and on what I’m making, you can’t turn up that type of opportunity. But the other reason was that Detroit, the movie I did see, was pretty incredible, even if it a challenge to watch.

The latest film from the incredible Kathryn Bigelow and her journalistic partner, screenwriter Mark Boal, Detroit is a telling of the events surrounding a murder carried out by the police in the Algiers Motel of Detroit, Michigan. The story is told from multiple perspectives, with each person present in the motel getting their backgrounds explored before the explosive incident itself.

I feel the need to mention this in with my brief summary because this intro is looooooong. If I had a problem with this film, it’s that it painstakingly fleshes out all the main players’ backgrounds and contextualizes the significance of the Detroit riots before and during the incident. That helps a lot with connecting to some of these characters later on in the film and gives those unfamiliar with the climate a much needed frame of reference, but I felt it could’ve been condensed. As it stands, it takes about a half hour to forty-five minutes to reach any point of conflict.

However, those with patience will be well rewarded. Detroit is another masterclass in unveiling true and brutal stories  in America’s history. In terms of Bigelow’s filmography, it’s more The Hurt Locker than Zero Dark Thirty, leaning more towards the journalistic side of narrative. Bigelow takes the source material and manages to make her retelling both intense and relevant to modern day America. It’s frankly frightening how timeless the tale of the Algiers Motel feels through this film. Bigelow offers a cold, unflinching look at an incident of incredible police brutality that, without knowing the context, feels like it could take place at any time in modern American history, putting Detroit up with Get Out for the best horror film of the year so far.

I also feel that this movie goes about critiquing racism in the most palatable way possible. Many movies that discuss racism are dismissed, justified or unjustified, on the basis of being too simplistic or generalizing. The white people are bad, the black people are all oppressed. Not so with Detroit. Bigelow shows authority being abused and the outgroup being victimized for it. But there were people who could have stepped in and stopped it. There were black people enabling the police (the term “Uncle Tom” is thrown around a bit in the film), as there were white cops who wanted to help and do the right thing. No issue is black and white, not even racism, but no one can deny that it is happening. Detroit does a wonderful job of showing how hate starts and grows. The events that take place are a tragedy, but another subtler tragedy is the loss of trust and love between people based on race.

While the film is strong in its own rights, the acting elevates it to another level. The one person that makes this film work more than anyone else is Will Poulter. Who would’ve thought that the weird looking kid from We’re The Millers, a movie known for starting the “No Ragrets” meme more than its actual comic value, would end up in one of the most terrifying roles in modern cinema? Poulter’s Officer Krauss is passive racism embodied. He doesn’t shoot someone just for being black or give them sneers as he walks by in the streets. But when he sees a black man carrying groceries among the looting, he shoots him in the back as he runs away. He sees two young white girls in a room with an older black man, he assumes that he has been pimping him out. He doesn’t seek to kill black people in the hotel, but when they die, he plants weapons on their bodies. And he does it with maybe the creepiest smile I’ve ever seen anyone sport. Seriously, this guy was supposed to be Pennywise and this movie left me wondering about what It could have been. The vitriol and disdain hiding underneath a boyish exterior makes him an incredible villain and one that should resonate with most. I will be disappointed if he doesn’t receive a Best Supporting Actor nomination. On the other side is newcomer Algee Smith, who, while not quite reaching the heights of Poulter’s performance, delivers an incredibly sincere turn as Larry Reed, a performer and one of the survivors of the incident. His transformation through the film tugs at the heart, though you can hardly blame him for the hate he feels after all is said and done.

It is a shame to see that Detroit is bombing at the box office. This film is an instant addition to my must-see collection of the year. It may not be the best movie of the year, but it is definitely one of the most important. The film’s portrayal of institutionalized racism is uncomfortable and unforgiving, which has been a point that has been polarizing among people I’ve talked to. But I think the fact that some dislike the movie based on how it makes them feel only speaks to the terror this movie puts into its audience. It’s an auteur at her best, a new star reaching his zenith, and a socially conscious filmmaking important observations that are worth your consideration.

[ilvsyzj]

Chapter Twenty-Five: Researching Yin Yang Dragon and Yin Yang Royal Couple.

Week #3: Day 2, Tuesday, 12/15/2020

      When I woke up the bombing has stopped, and Sky was still in bed with me. I grabbed my phone to see what time it was. It was 10 am. Sky was hugging me so I got out of bed to go to the bathroom. When I came back from the bathroom, Sky was up. 

Sky: Morning. -smiling- 

Jazzy: Morning. -smiling- 

Sky: How are you feeling?

Jazzy: A bit better. 

Sky: It takes time. Also, don’t give yourself so much stress. You are doing very well as Co-Captain. Don’t let Brandy’s personality get to you. She’s always whine and complain when she doesn’t want to do something, or someone is making her do something that she doesn’t like. Just focus the job at hand. If you let people’s personality get to you, you’re going to go crazy and you’re going to quit before you accomplish your mission. -getting out of bed- 

    While Sky was in the bathroom, I fed Toothless and Snow. After feeding the cats, I thought about what Sky said. I was so deep in thought that I didn’t realize that Toothless was on my lap, until Toothless bob me in the nose with his paw. 

Jazzy: Mhm? -looking down at Toothless- 

Toothless: You’re still look stress. 

Jazzy: I am. 

Toothless: -rubbing his head underneath my chin- Believe in yourself. You can do it. 

Jazzy: -smiling- Thanks. 

Toothless: -purring- 

    Toothless continue to purr as I was back into my thoughts. Toothless purring is making me feel very comfortable and safe. Snow was also purring at my feet. When Sky came out of the bathroom, he and I went to the Common Room for breakfast. Since today we didn’t have any training, until I get my promise ring next month. So, everyone got up late to eat breakfast. I sat down and I was about to eat when Brandy popped out of no where and sat next to me. 

Jazzy: Eek! -jumping out of my skin- 

Brandy: Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I just want to tell you that I’m sorry for my attitude yesterday at the training grounds. Please don’t be mad at me. 

Jazzy: -taking a deep breath- It’s fine. I’m just stress. I know that everyone wants to move on. I do my best. 

Brandy: So I’m forgiven?

Jazzy: Mhm. 

Brandy: -screaming in excitement- Thank you! Oh, I was so worry that you won’t forgive me. That I didn’t sleep very well last night. Now, I get to put on a mask and relax. -jumping out of her chair- I’m not going to eat breakfast. I’m on a diet. 

    Then in a blink of eye. Brandy ran up to her room and slam the door. All of us was shaking our heads. I was eating my toasts when Sky handed me a cup of coffee. 

Jazzy: Thanks. 

Sky: You’re welcome. -smiling- 

    After breakfast we cleaned up. Most of my teammates were staying in the Common Room, and I went back to my room with Sky behind me. I went to my desk and turned on my iPad. I was going to find as much information on Yin Yang Dragon and Yin Yang Royal Couple. I already know that I need two Special Pets, a true soul mate, a promise ring, and perform a promise ceremony. I also know that the Yin Yang Royal Couple is very powerful. Also that King Eric is after it. But as I search for more information on Yin Yang Royal Couple and Yin Yang Dragon, I come up empty. I was about to scream out of frustration. But I received an message from the Oracle, “The answer to these questions will come to you very soon. You can’t find any more on this subject. You and Sky have all the things that you need. Just believe in yourself and your partner.” 

Jazzy: Great. What am I suppose to do now?

Sky: Mediate. Then we will spar. 

Jazzy: Deal. 

      I sat on the floor of the our room and began to mediate. During my mediation I start to feel better, and my mind began to become clear. Then strange images began to form in my head, I had no idea what these images were and I was confused. I saw the Yin Yang Dragons Training Grounds, and I saw the Promise Ceremony. These images that I see in my head was cold, wintery scenery, and my teammates were there. I was wearing a simple white dress with a little V-neck. Sky was there, and he was wearing a simple black suit. The Oracle was there saying something that I couldn’t understand. Toothless and Snow was there too. They were standing between Sky and I.  Then there was a flash of bright light blinded everyone for a few seconds and then a Yin Yang Dragon spirit appeared above us. The Yin Yang Dragon spirit said something that I couldn’t understand. But there was a voice that said to me that was loud and clear, “Christmas is the best time of the year for wonderful celebrations.” Then everything went black. I opened my eyes. 

Jazzy: -confused- What the fuck?

Sky: Mhm?

Jazzy: -confused- I saw some kind of vision. It was our Promise Ceremony. It took place from yesterday, and it was during Christmas time. This Christmas. Why?

Sky: Maybe it’s the Goddess way of letting us know that we should complete the first level sooner, rather than later. What else did you see in your vision?

Jazzy: After we completed our Promise Ceremony, the spirit of the Yin Yang Dragon appeared above our heads. Just before everything went dark, I heard voice telling me, “Christmas is the best time of the year for wonderful celebrations.” 

Sky: Then we should do our Promise Ceremony this Christmas. Which is next week. If you want. 

Jazzy: You don’t think we’re moving to fast?

Sky: No. I think we are moving in the right paste. A Promise Ceremony doesn’t mean we’re married. It just mean we will get married in the future. 

Jazzy: -confused- 

Sky: A Promise Ceremony is where we promise to each other that we are going to be there for one another, not to cheat on each other, and when we are ready we will get married. A lot of werewolves go through a Promise Ceremony. Because it’s a test for both partners. If we keep our promise to each other for a year, then that means we are going to be fine in our marriage. If anytime once of us break any promise that we made to each other during our Promise Ceremony, then our marriage isn’t going to work. It also means that there is a divorce in the horizon. 99.9% of Promise Ceremonies work. Only 1% of Promise Ceremonies doesn’t work. That 1% is very rare. 

Jazzy: I see. -still confuse- 

Sky: What else did you see in your vision?

Jazzy: I didn’t feel any pain. Why is that?

Sky: I don’t understand what you’re saying. 

Jazzy: I didn’t get marked. Why?

Sky: A Promise Ceremony doesn’t need a Mating Mark. The rings are the symbol of our promise to each other. We don’t need the Mating Mark. That’s why you didn’t feel any pain. Did you see a mark on me in your vision?

Jazzy: No. I was too busy looking into your eyes to notice anything else. 

Sky: -smiling- 

Jazzy: Ugh! I’m so stress.-burying my face into my hands- 

Sky: -coming over and sitting next to me- Why?

Jazzy: -breathing out- Because I don’t know if I’m making the right choices. My gut is telling me to do one thing, but my heart is telling me to another. Which do I follow?

Sky: It’s a hard decision. But which one is stronger. Your gut feeling or your heart?

Jazzy: To be honest. My gut feeling is stronger. You won’t be mad at me for not marrying right away. 

Sky: Of course not. We haven’t been dating for long. I’m not the type of person who likes to rush into things. I also like to take things slow. There’s nothing wrong with taking things slow. But we shouldn’t take too long, because my mother will start to nag. I’m not kidding. She will nag us if we take too long. She really does want me to take over as King. 

Jazzy: Does your parents have a time stamp on you being King?

Sky: No. But my gut feeling is telling me that my father will step down as King when this war is over. Because every time he comes home from the wars in the past. He ages 10x faster. 

Jazzy: I see. 

Sky: Also, my mother does have a requirement. 

Jazzy: Let me guess. She wants grandchildren. 

Sky: Yea. 

Jazzy: Ugh! How many does she wants me to have?

Sky: Maximum 2. -smiling- 

Jazzy: Liar. 

Sky: I’m being serious. My mother doesn’t want to take care of a soccer team. There’s already a bunch of little ones running around that calls her grandma. Her head is already exploding from those little ones. All my cousins are married. My sister is going to be married soon, and once she gets married she is no longer next in line to the throne. The person after me to take over the throne is my crazy uncle Steven. No body in the whole Mythical Kingdom likes my crazy uncle. If he was to rule everyone is going to riot. 

Jazzy: Why is my life so hard? If we do become the Yin Yang Royal Couple, how do you rule the kingdom?

Sky: I don’t know. But I hope I can decide. If I don’t become King. I can recommend my sister. But its in the future. I have time.

Jazzy: Being a leader or co-leader is hard. -sigh- 

Toothless: It is hard. But have you ever heard of taking it day by day?

Snow: Or take baby steps?

Sky: Mhm. I have. -smiling- 

Jazzy: Thank guys. -smiling- 

     Sky and I went to the gym to train and exercise. 45 minutes later we returned to our room. It was a very good work out and training sessions. I was feeling like my old self again. My mind has become more clear. As Sky was taking a shower and I was drinking water, and doing some stretching exercise I made an decision. When Sky came out of the bathroom I went in to take a shower. 30 minutes later I came out and I was about to tell Sky my decision. 

Jazzy: Is the Promise Ceremony permanent?

Sky: Yes. Unless one of us breaks the rules that the other one set up. 

Jazzy: I can set up any rules?

Sky: Mhm. 

Jazzy: No limits?

Sky: Mhm. 

Jazzy: I see. 

Sky: -confuse- 

Jazzy: -smiling- I’m not going to tell you what I’m up to. But you have a deadline. To be more specific, our deadline is 12/25/2020. Come up with 10 rules that you want me to follow, and I come up with 10 rules that I want you to follow. Also, wear a black suit. 

Sky: Oh. What would you be wearing on 12/25/2020?

Jazzy: A white dress. -smiling- 

Sky: Okay. I can’t see what your rules are and you can’t see what my rules are until 12/25/2020. Right?

Jazzy: Mhm.

Sky: Got it. 

      We both went downstairs for dinner. I told the rest of the team that something is happening on 12/25/2020, and that they are to meet us at the Yin Yang Dragons Training Grounds. In a formal setting. All girls must wear dresses and men are to wear suits. Brandy, got excited and she was about to ask me if Sky and I are finally getting married. I told her no. Brandy was about ask me more questions but I told her it’s not a wedding or a birthday. It is a ceremony and that she’ll know that when the time comes. Brandy tried again but I just gave her a commanding stare, and she immediately shut her mouth and ate her dinner. No one asked any more questions about 12/25/2020. After dinner I went back to my room. Because it has been a long day and I would like to get away from Brandy. People who are perky is bad for me. I don’t like perky people. I find them fake when they are too perky. But I didn’t want to say that to her face because I might hurt her feelings, and Jeff might think I’m being out of line. So I kept my mouth shut and I didn’t say anything rude. I crawl into bed and grabbed my book off my night stand. I was reading a new chapter when Sky came into the room. Sky crawled into bed and scrolled through his phone. 15 minutes later I put my book down, Sky put his phone down and turn off the lights. Sky kissed me good night, and we went to sleep. 

-End of Chapter Twenty-Five- 

[newyorktheater]

Broadway is busy with the Tony Awards on June 9th, but June is bustin’ out all over with new shows on other New York stages. A good number of the openings mark the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots and the birth of the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement.

Fairview, at Theatre for a New Audience

Smiley at Repertorio Espanol

“Life Sucks”

Aenid Moloney in “Yes! Reflections of Molly Bloom”

Dragon Spring Phoenix Rise

Several acclaimed plays are getting encore productions in other theaters, including  the Pulitzer-winning “Fairview.” Two different one-woman shows adapting the character Molly Bloom from James Joyce’s Ulysses for the stage. The Shed is offering a new Kung Fu musical, and the Atlantic a musical adapted from The Secret Life of Bees.

Below is a list of openings in June, 2019, organized chronologically by opening date, with each title linked to a relevant website. Color key of theaters: Broadway: Red. Off Broadway: Black, Blue, or Purple. Off Off Broadway: Green. Theater festival: Orange.  Immersive: Magenta. Shows marking Stonewall and those on gay themes will include the Stonewall 50 logo:

Many of the gay plays take place in non-traditional venues, and are of limited runs, often just a single performance. They and the theater festival offerings often don’t have official opening nights, so I list them by first public performance.

June 1

Underground Railroad Game (Ars Nova at Greenwich House)

An encore presentation of the award-winning play inspired by an actual game that co-creator Scott Sheppard was forced to play in fifth grade, when his school re-enacted a bizarre version of the Civil War.

My review

Zen A.M. (Theatre for the New City)

After years of struggling, Bruno finally books a once in a lifetime project, only to develop major misgivings about participating and completing his painting

  June 2

 Pridetable (Storycourse)

Five courses.  Five personal stories from a diverse and intergenerational team of LGBTQ+ chefs.  A month long pop-up theatrical dining experience

  June 3

Dying City (Second Stage)

Revival of Christopher Shinn’s 2007 play, set in a spare Manhattan apartment, where a young widow receives an unexpected visit from the twin brother of her deceased husband. The play explores the human fallout of global events

Nomad Motel (Atlantic)

A play by Carla Ching, directed by Ed Sylvanus Iskandar, about kids raising themselves and making something out of nothing in the land of plenty.

Everything that happened and would happen (Park Ave Armory)

Artist and composer Heiner Goebbels reenacts 100 years of history to show a world in strife through performance, sound, movement, and moving image

Ant Fest (Ars Nova)

The 12th annual month-long festival begins with A People’s History of Silicon Valley, described as “a synth-pop send-up of techno-utopianism and startup bros.”

June 4

Long Lost (MTC at City Center)

A play by Donald Margulies (Dinner with Friends) directed by Daniel Sullivan. “When troubled Billy appears out-of-the-blue in his estranged brother David’s Wall Street office, he soon tries to re-insert himself into the comfortable life David has built with his philanthropist wife and college-age son. What does Billy really want?”

  Little Women (Primary at Cherry Lane)

Kate Hamill’s take on Louise May Alcott’s novel

June 5

“The Bear.Mozart, Salieri and The Bear (West End Theater)

A double bill of short Russian plays: Pushkin’s little tragedy “Mozart and Salieri” challenges the question of who murdered Mozart.  It is partnered with Chekhov’s vaudeville,ieri-the-bear”>

  June 6

Global Gay (La Mama)

Dramatizes the plight of queer people around the world

Part of LaMama’s Stonewall 50 celebration

You Never Touched The Dirt (Clubbed Thumb @ Wild Project)

A play about economic transformation, the dreams it enables, and those it crushes. “The Lis, the Zhaos, the ghosts and the animals engage in a land feud.”

Public Servant (TBTB at Theatre Row)

Theater Breaking Through Barriers kicks off its 40th Anniversary season with this world premiere drama by Bekah Brunstetter (“This Is Us”) about a county commissioner and a woman who needs his help.

June 11

Much Ado About Nothing (Shakespeare in the Park)

Kenny Leon directs an all-black staging of Shakespeare’s comedy of romantic retribution and miscommunication

June 12

Handbagged (59E59)

The Iron Lady. The Queen. Born six months apart, each woman had a destiny that would change the world. But when the stiff upper lip softened and the gloves came off, which one had the upper hand?

June 13

The Secret Life of Bees (Atlantic)

A musical adaptation of Sue Monk Kidd’s beloved novel, with music by Duncan Sheik and book by Lynn Nottage, about two runaways in 1960s South Carolina, taken in by beekeeping sisters.

  Yes! Reflections of Molly Bloom (Irish Rep)

Aedín Moloney performs as Molly Bloom in a stage adaptation of the Penelope chapter of Ulysses written by James Joyce

Molly Bloom (Fusion at Theater 244)

Irish actress Eilin O’Dea performs her one woman show as Molly Bloom from the Penelope chapter of James Joyce’s “Ulysses”

Convention (Irondale) 

Using an ensemble of 40 actors, the play tells the true story of the 1944 Democratic National Convention; when the people’s favorite, progressive incumbent Vice President Henry Wallace, was denied nomination as FDR’s running mate in favor of the moderate Senator Harry Truman.

13 Fruitcakes (La MaMa)

13 staged musical vignettes about 13 significant LGBTQ figures (e.g. Leonardo daVinci) along with a song cycle based on poems by queer poets such as Wilde, Whitman and Lorca

Part of Stonewall 50 at La MaMa

June 14

Smiley (Repertorio Espanol)

Alex and Bruno’s differences seem insurmountable but they fall in love

  June 15

Veil Widow Conspiracy (Next door at NYTW)

This play by Gordon Dahlquist offers nested versions of a story that begins as a political murder mystery in 1922 China; then 2010 Hollywood; winding up in dystopian Brooklyn of the future.

June 16

Fairview (Theatre for a New Audience)

An encore presentation of Jackie Sibblies Drury’s Pulitzer prize-winning play about race and identity

Life Sucks (Wheelhouse at Theatre Row)

Aaron Posner’s acclaimed reimagining of Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” is re-opening Off-Broadway

June 17

A Strange Loop (Playwrights Horizons) Michael R. Jackson’s musical about a black, gay writer, working a day job he hates while writing his original musical: a piece about a black, gay writer, working a day job he hates while writing his original musical

Ode to Juneteenth (National Black Theatre)

Emancipation Jones tells us the true story of “Juneteenth”, the day two an a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation when Union Soldiers finally rode into Texas to announce the end of slavery.

Mel Brooks (Lunt Fontanne)

The first of two performances as part of the so-called In Residence on Broadway series.

June 18

Dropping Gumballs on Luke Wilson (A.R.T. NY)

A play written by Rob Ackerman and directed by Theresa Rebeck based on a true story about the making of a TV commercial in which a film director puts a movie star’s life in the hands of a very jittery props guy.

Leap and the Net Will Appear (New Georges at Flea)

What happens when Margie (raised to be a good girl; wants to be a lion) leaves home: twenty years whiz by like a moving train

June 19

Imminently Yours (Negro Ensemble Company at Theatre 80)

Descendants of American slaves resist expropriation of their inherited properties.

Out of Line: No Agenda Genda (High Line) Antonio Ramos presents a sci-fi piece of interactive dance theater dedicated to the legacy and memory of queer icons and movement-maker

  SheNYC (Connelly)

The festival begins with The Shoebox, in which four high school best friends write letters to their future selves — and then open them ten years later.

June 20

Toni Stone (Roundabout’s Laura Pels)

A play by Lydia Diamond directed by Pam McKinnon, based on a true story about the first woman to go pro in the Negro Leagues,

Pride Plays (Rattlestick)

More than a dozen play readings from celebrated LBTQIA voices, including Paula Vogel, Terrence McNally and the Five Lesbian Brothers, will be presented from June 20th through 24th

Contradict This! (LaMama)

The Bearded Ladies Cabaret presents a spectacle that is part trial, part birthday, part funeral, featuring original music performed by a host of misfits, drag artists, queers, and a local choir. Part of Stonewall 50 at La MaMa

June 21

Stonewall (NYC Opera)

A new American opera by Iain Bell and Mark Campbell “that captures the rage, grit, humor and, finally, hope of the LGBTQ community’s uprising in a Greenwich Village dance club on one hot night in June 1969. The work is divided into three parts and follows a diverse group of characters whose lives collide at that pivotal moment in history when the police push them too far and they find the courage to fight back.”

June 22

King Phillip’s Head is Still on That Pike Just Down the Road (Clubbed Thumb @ The Wild Project) The councilmen of Plymouth Colony determine how to be Good in the New World.

The Stonewall 50 Plays (Queens Museum)

The One-Minute Play Festival has organized 50 new Queer One-Minute Plays, which will be presented from 2 p.m. to 3:45 p.m.

    June 23

Quilt  (Judson Memorial Church)

A musical celebration of those who died of AIDS and those who survived.

  June 26

Dragon Spring Phoenix Rise (The Shed)

The story of a secret sect in Flushing, Queens, that possesses the magical power to extend human life, and the twin brother and sister caught in the struggle to control it. Directed by Chen Shi-Zheng and written by the creators of the Kung Fu Panda movies, Jonathan Aibel and Glenn Berger.

Working (Encores Off Center)

This concert version of Nina Faso and Stephen Schwartz’s 1978 musical based on Stud Terkels est-selling book feaures a cast that includes, Helen Hunt, Christopher Jackson, Javier Muñoz and Andréa Burns

Outside of Eden (New Ohio)

The Ice Factory Festival begins with this mix of opera and theater about the Byzantine Empresses.

  June 27

In The Green (Lincoln Center’s LCT3)

Grace McLean’s new musical tells the origin story of one of Medieval history’s most powerful and creative women: Hildegard von Bingen. Before she became a healer, a composer, an exorcist, and finally a saint, she was a little girl locked in a cell with her mentor, Jutta.

June 2019 New York Theater Openings: Stonewall 50 On Stage! Fairview Returns! Broadway is busy with the Tony Awards on June 9th, but June is bustin' out all over with new shows on other New York stages.

[theconservativebrief]

Who among us can resist getting a little verklempt upon hearing the strains of some familiar Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood song? Hum with me:

It’s such a good feeling to know you’re alive It’s such a happy feeling, you’re growing inside And when you wake up ready to say, “I think I’ll make a snappy new day!”

Generations of American children now have grown up watching Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, in part because it runs on public television, something that Fred Rogers himself was instrumental in saving. Somewhere between a playmate, an affable uncle or grandpa, and a fairy godfather, Rogers’s slow and compassionate approach to children’s television ran counter to what we typically expect of TV shows for kids; there are no bright, flashy, fast-moving cartoons or slapstick humor in his neighborhood, just simple, direct conversation and storytelling. You got the feeling he cared.

Those same qualities might seem to disqualify Rogers from being a very good subject for a documentary, unless it’s the kind that “exposes” a public figure. But Morgan Neville’s documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor tackles him anyway, and comes to the benign conclusion that Fred Rogers was, in fact, the guy he appeared to be. It’s a gentle film that doesn’t take a lot of risks but doesn’t really need to. Fred Rogers was a kind and gentle man who saw children as important, his work as ministry, and kindness as essential to human existence.

So the main goal of Won’t You Be My Neighbor is to convince us that while kindness and empathy are in short supply today, it need not be that way. Through interviews with Rogers’s close collaborators and friends (his wife, several performers, and the head of the Fred Rogers Center), archival footage (some of it rare), and interstitial animated segments, the film builds out a portrait of a man who saw in the new technology of television an opportunity to communicate with a generation of children and tell them that they were special just the way they were.

And in 2018, that makes him a subversive figure.

The film opens with black-and-white footage of Fred Rogers in 1967, playing a piano and then using a musical metaphor to explain, in the familiar gentle cadence that somehow never comes off as patronizing, that one of his jobs is “to help children through the modulations of life.” What he means is helping children figure out how to express and regulate their emotions during exciting, scary, and confusing moments they encounter in life: dealing with bullies, experiencing parents’ divorce, feeling uncertain about the future, and going through frightening world events.

David Newell and Fred Rogers in Won’t You Be My Neighbor. Focus Features

That last one — the world events that children in the late 1960s and onward have had a greater awareness of, in part due to the very medium Rogers worked in — is a key part of Won’t You Be My Neighbor. Neville (Best of Enemies, 20 Feet from Stardom) is less interested in giving us a straightforward cradle-to-grave account of Rogers’s life than in making an argument around his subject. That argument is that Fred Rogers’s worldview, a kind of humanism that had roots in Rogers’s Christianity but expressed itself as a commitment to everyone’s dignity, is what helped many navigate the scariest events of childhood (RFK’s assassination, the Columbia shuttle explosion). And the power of that worldview, the film suggests, doesn’t stop when childhood ends.

The film is structured around those big world events. The first episodes of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood aired in 1968, amid heated political debates about borders and wars. On the show, King Friday (the stern monarch of the Land of Make-Believe) erected a border fence of his own around his castle, and was convinced to take it down only by messages of goodwill and peace that other characters (both puppet and human) floated over the fence.

The parallels are almost too obvious (a border wall in the first week, 50 years ago?), but this really was the way the show started, and the film carefully shows how Rogers went on to gently and subtly address other cultural battles. In one segment that aired during pitched battles about integration, he soaks his feet in a small wading pool outside his home, then invites the black mailman to cool his feet in the pool with him. Today, a shot of the two men’s feet in the same pool may register as little more than a nice image, but Won’t You Be My Neighbor splices the show’s footage together with images from that time of black children being chased out of a public pool. Rogers knew what he was doing.

Sections like this are the strongest in the movie, straightforwardly told with historical footage to contextualize the Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood segments and to remind us what it was like, as children, to see an assassination or explosion on TV and wonder what it meant for the future. Rogers’s commitment to addressing these events is framed as stemming from two things: his Christian faith (he was an ordained Presbyterian minister, and many interviewees talk about how he saw the show as “ministry”) and his deep interest in child psychology. Those two things led him to believe that children’s emotions were important to address and talk through, and he spent his life doing just that.

“The space between the TV screen and whoever is watching is ‘very holy ground,’” Rogers says in archival footage at one point.

What’s so striking about Won’t You Be My Neighbor isn’t really onscreen, though. It’s the effect the film has on the audience, and what that reveals about us.

As a number of critics have noted, what’s so startling about the movie is the revelation that Mr. Rogers was, as far as anyone seems to be able to tell, basically the person he presented himself to be onscreen. And more importantly, that’s unexpected. Watching the film, it’s hard to believe it’s true. Even after seeing the film, it seems a bit suspect, as if a story of a hidden crime will eventually come to light if we just wait long enough.

That we expect this so keenly (and fear it just as sharply) tells you almost everything you need to know about the times we live in. And it’s reflective of a conversation that many women have been having during the era of #MeToo — making lists in private conversations of the men we know or respect whom we’d be shocked and genuinely devastated to discover were predators. They’re very short lists.

If as a nation we were to make one of those lists, Fred Rogers would almost certainly be on it. The man who told us through the TV every day when we were children about our own worth, about feeling our emotions and then learning to control them, about living in harmony with other people — we need that man.

Thankfully, what Won’t You Be My Neighbor turns up is just that man, and a crowd of people who loved him. That’s probably why just watching the trailer of the film can induce weeping: It’s jarring to realize how much his simple message still makes sense, and how little it is evident in our public life.

And maybe most uncomfortably, the film surfaces why. There’s a clip near the end of the film in which a talking head on Fox News decries Rogers and the “narcissistic society he gave birth to.” I briefly expected the audience at my screening to riot, because it was such a plainly stupid response to what we’d just seen.

Fred Rogers believed in radical kindness. Focus Features

But it’s also a good example of the confusion that marks public discourse today, in which kindness far too often is decried as weakness, courtesy as political correctness run amok, respect as pandering, and the belief in each individual’s dignity and worth as narcissism. These things can all go in toxic directions, of course. But it seems clear that ordinary, old-fashioned goodness has gone out of fashion.

Rogers, the film proposes, was interested in “making goodness attractive in this next millennium,” as he says in a PBS segment recorded late in his life. The idea that everyone has inherent dignity was obvious to him; if you say otherwise, for him, “you might as well go against the fundamentals of Christianity.”

After all, Jesus’s answer to someone who asked him “Who is my neighbor?” was to tell the story of the Good Samaritan, a parable in which the most “righteous” and powerful members of his own society passed by a man lying in a ditch on the side of the road. Who finally rescues him and cares for him? A Samaritan — the people whom Jesus’s listeners considered to be less worthy of dignity and respect than themselves. There’s no chance that Fred Rogers, an ordained Presbyterian minister, didn’t have this story in mind when he structured his entire show around the concept of neighbors.

And you can’t miss the parallels to today. Rogers was against the fast-paced children’s programming of his time that, as he saw it, found most of its humor in denigrating its characters’ dignity via pratfalls and cartoonish violence; it’s an easy line from that to the loud and shallow form that cable news uses to get its adult viewers addicted. Similarly, his slow, self-effacing, and deliberate way of speaking, with a gaze that made his audience certain he was paying attention only to them, is in stark contrast to all kinds of public figures today, not least the one leading our country.

So while Won’t You Be My Neighbor isn’t a particularly inventive film as a piece of cinema — its choices are expected, and we’re still left with questions about how Rogers’s work shaped his own life — that may in the end be for the best. The film succeeds on the radically subversive and obvious notions we learned when we were children: that being nice is not a weakness; that speaking with care is a thing we do simply because we believe the person we’re talking to is a human being with worth and dignity. What’s most startling about Won’t You Be My Neighbor, and what makes it feel almost elegiac, is how very jarring that message feels.

Won’t You Be My Neighbor opens in limited cities on June 8 and will expand over the following weeks.

Original Source -> The Fred Rogers documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor feels radically subversive

via The Conservative Brief

[itsworn]

Hot Rod Builder Finally Has the 1932 Ford 5-Window Coupe of his Dreams

Turbulent. America was booming during the 1950s. Oh sure, the country experienced some angst, especially with the fear of the Ruskies blowing us to smithereens. Then came the 1960s, which saw a gradual escalation in turmoil and tragedies. The assassinations of JFK, Martin Luther King, and Bobby Kennedy. Civil rights and riots. Vietnam. Anger grew within several segments of the population, starting with the younger generation.

In a way, hot rods from the 1960s somewhat reflect that angry attitude. More V8s sported wild induction systems, from blowers to fuel injection, while “sports wheels” created by American Racing, Halibrand, and the like often replaced steel rims, depending on the owners’ budgets. Drag racing influenced hot rodders as well; they borrowed the idea of installing Moon-style fuel tanks in front of the grille. Whitewall tires fell by the wayside around 1962, as blackwalls came back in vogue, with a heavy rake being sometimes accentuated by fat drag racing slicks mounted in the rear.

Yes, slicks like the Dragmasters mounted on Drew Strunk’s ’32 coupe, which oozes 1960s all over. To be fair, the Ohio resident occasionally runs the car on steel wheels and bias-ply rubber; but we felt compelled to ask him to keep the five-spoke rims and slicks for our photo shoot. The latter proved rather epic due to heavy rain, obviously not the best conditions when driving purposely smooth tires.

“I might have a solution,” Drew said. “My pal Rob Mullins owns a great building, which we might use for your article.” Following a quick phone call and approval from Rob, we hit the road. Drew skillfully kept the Deuce under control during the very wet 20-minute journey. Our destination was Mullins’ man cave, originally a church built in 1901, restored by the man himself and decorated with memorabilia reflecting his passion for vintage drag racing. It doesn’t get much better than this.

The vibe of the place nicely complements the blue ’32, assembled with period correctness in mind. Drew has an acute understanding of hot rodding’s history, having been raised by a father deeply involved in the hobby for a half-century. Jack (the dad) credits family members for his own interest in the hot rod scene. He told us, “I grew up spending most of my summers with an uncle and a cousin, who rebuilt and dolled up old cars. I used my allowance each week to buy the little 25-cent hot rod books and plastic model cars, and learned everything I could.”

Now in his early forties, Drew has fond memories of his childhood, when his dad wrenched on hot rods for fun. “As a kid, I remember sitting in the front seat between my parents in his ’32 five-window coupe, barely able to look over the dash. And I was taught how to weld at 7 years old.” You can say that hot rods played an essential part in his life. Building models, cruising, car shows, and dad’s buddies in the driveway talking cars… It was a great time to be a child.

Later in life, Drew held several jobs: welder, truck driver, mechanic, auto accessory detailer, parts counterman, and delivery driver. They paid the bills; but it wasn’t until his father retired and decided to start a full-fledged hot rod business that he found his dream job. Based in Cincinnati, Ohio, the company is called Dropped Axle Productions and has built an excellent reputation in the Midwest, thanks to its quality project cars.

Drew focuses on fabricating custom chassis for traditional hot rods, though the father-and-son duo also performs a ton of other tasks, from chopped tops and filled roofs to panel repairs and complete restorations. They additionally manufacture their own laser-cut boxing plates, suspension brackets, plus brake and clutch pedal assemblies. While hot rods remain the shop’s focus, the small crew of two often works on offbeat vehicles, some quite memorable. The list includes a severely chopped split-window Volkswagen Bug with a Chevy Corvair flat-six powerplant, and a funky ’62 Renault Dauphine, which lost its four-cylinder rear engine to welcome a Chevy 350ci V8 up front.

Fun stuff for sure. Yet, Drew kept dreaming of a ’32 Ford five-window coupe, and started the search for one in his early twenties. We don’t need to tell you that Deuce coupes have been a hot rodder’s favorite forever, and their scarcity makes them expensive. Consequently, the young Strunk considered using a fiberglass body, until his dad found the real deal on the Internet: a steel shell located in Kansas City, Missouri. “We drove straight through, 12 hours one way,” Drew said. “The guy who had it for sale was going to use it for a clone of the American Graffiti coupe, but the body was in such bad shape that he wasn’t able to salvage it himself. He ended up using a fiberglass body, and I managed to buy a true steel body in the end.”

The roof was “atrocious,” he said, and he almost did not purchase the chopped shell for that very fact. Thankfully, a friend of his dad who owned a roof section in decent shape came to the rescue. It required some work, though the surgery gave the opportunity to chop the top even more, resulting in each post losing a slice of 4 inches compared to stock. The 85-year-old tin, featuring a roof insert courtesy of a Chevy Corvair top, now displays that perfect hot rod attitude.

As luck would have it, a second main component emerged shortly after, in the shape of a genuine ’32 frame. It was seriously mangled; but on the plus side, it could be fixed and—most importantly—it was free. Drew put it in Dropped Axle Productions’ jig, before picking a few items from the shop’s shelves, specifically crossmembers (flattened an inch) and a drilled front axle, which he moved forward to lengthen the wheelbase for a better profile.

Notice the lack of frame horns in front. Drew elected to shorten and pinch them so that they could hide behind the stock grille. In the spirit of drag cars, several components have been drilled for weight reduction and aesthetics, including the lever shocks, most any bracket, plus the framerails. There are a couple of nods to Drew’s grandfather, in the shape of the cowl’s vent handle that came from his mother’s oven (!), along with the mighty ’62 Cadillac V8. Grandpa was a fan of these powerplants.

The engine features a handful of desirable parts, starting with the intake manifold. “I searched high and low for the Offenhauser 3×2 model,” Drew said. “I finally found one without the heat riser at a local swap meet. It wasn’t cheap but well worth adding to the car’s overall look. I also admired the dimpled valve covers offered by various cam companies back in the day. I hunted for a pair, but to no avail. I finally took it upon myself to make the dimples on stock valve covers. Once I was happy with the profile, I sent them out to the chrome shop.”

Finding a camshaft for the Caddy proved a bit challenging, although Schneider Racing eventually offered a blank properly machined. (“I wanted the nastiest sounding cam and I got it.”) He also custom made the motor mounts featuring a cast-piece appearance, then riveted them to the frame. They have become quite popular since, having been duplicated by others on their hot rods.

The exhaust system, purchased from lakeheaders.com and welded by Drew, does not muffle much of the V8’s growl. “I’ve made several babies cry as I started the coupe at gas stations. Needless to say, I get dirty looks from mothers.” Kids might be scared just staring at the car, which looks mean just standing still.

With enjoyable road trips in mind, our man made a concession by installing a modern Tremec transmission with an overdrive, thanks to a Wilcap adapter. The lack of stock fuel tank visually unclutters the back of the coupe and thereby shows the N.O.S. Halibrand rearend, scored from a local racer who never used it. It was a killer find that obviously pleased Drew, since he had put it on his “must-have” list early in the game.

On average, our talented craftsman concedes building a car “on the side” in his own garage each year, and then selling it to finance the next project. But to be clear: This one, built on a surprisingly tight budget, is not for sale. It’s a keeper. Considering the scarcity of Deuce coupes, who can blame him?

How is this for a man cave? With the weather not cooperating, we photographed Drew Strunk’s blue Deuce in this great garage, owned by one of Drew’s friends, Rob Mullins. The name sounds familiar? Rob is heavily involved in the Gasser hobby, as he has a few historical survivors.

From this angle, you can see the curved spreader bar made by the owner, as he explains: “I shortened the back of the frame so I could install the bar. To match the curvature of the body, I heated up the back side of the bar and quenched it with water until I got the desired shape.”

Who needs a hood when you run such a beautiful motor? Notice the headlights of unknown origin—they might have come from a French car—mounted low, a look made popular by the Rolling Bones crew on the East Coast.

“When it came to the engine, I was undecided,” Drew recalled. “My grandfather always spoke highly of Cadillac engines. As a tribute to him, I chose a 390-inch 1962 Cad.” Grandpa would be proud: It’s a beauty. And it’s angry.

Behind the rare Offenhauser manifold with three Stromberg 97s sits a Cirello magneto. The name has been associated with drag racing since the 1960s, when Cirello equipped many nitro cars. The Cirello family still services magnetos to this day from its shop in Costa Mesa, California.

Having been employed by hot rodders for decades, Buick drums nicely fit the theme of the car. They complement a rear brake setup from a Ford pickup truck.

Ancient 9.00-15 Dragmaster slicks were swap meet scores, which now wrap around 15×8.5 American Racing five-spokes. Drew elected to use 15×4 magnesium reproductions in front, along with BFGoodrich 5.00-15 rubber by Coker Tire.

The panel under the rear lid, which has been punched with 150-plus louvers, houses a pair of unusual Art Deco-styled taillights that originally equipped a ’37 DeSoto. They flank a vintage Sacramento Capitol Speed Shop license plate frame.

As the trunk lacks a floor, you can clearly see the Halibrand quick-change and pinstripes on the axle tubes. That fuel tank came from a late-’50s/early-’60s F5 jet fighter. It was originally used to store coolant for the engine. A trimmed ’58 Ford decklid serves as bulkhead divider between the seat and the trunk.

Recognize the seats? Drew doesn’t (and neither do we, in fact), though he believes they might either be from a plane or a British sports car. More unanswered questions remain regarding the all-aluminum steering wheel, which was signed by Norm Grabowski shortly before he passed away.

No less than eight Stewart-Warner gauges from the 1940s adorn the cool dash. We especially dig the 150-mph “Police Special” speedo. “Most were eBay finds, although dad allowed me to raid his stock pile for two of them.”

These windows were chopped just the right-amount. Actually, the ’32 had already lost a 3-inch slice when Drew got it; but he decided to remove an extra inch for a mean attitude. As the body has not been channeled, cabin comfort remains acceptable for sub-6-foot-tall folks.

While the car occasionally sits on vintage steelies and bias-ply rubber, Drew was happy to run the ’32 with the five-spokes and old slicks during our photo shoot—until it rained, that is. He did rather well on the road, especially considering the V8 delivers about 400 horses.

Drew typically works on a personal project every year, though not all of them can be considered “traditional.” Some belong to the “Dare to be Different” category, including a V8-powered Renault Dauphine and this chopped Volksrod, motivated by a Corvair flat-six! (Photo: Fabien Bécasse)

Moving the I-beam 2 inches forward makes the coupe appear sleeker and less stubby. Yes, the color is the well-known Washington Blue, which Ford offered in 1932; a dose of matting agent contributes to the semi-gloss finish.

The post Hot Rod Builder Finally Has the 1932 Ford 5-Window Coupe of his Dreams appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/hot-rod-builder-finally-1932-ford-5-window-coupe-dreams/ via IFTTT