#just imagine. her sister is a banshee. her mom is one. her grandmother is one. her mom's sisters both are

[vivitalks]

girl who finds out she's trans when she suddenly develops banshee powers

[tododeku-or-bust]

How do you imagine Thetis as a grandmother? Like, besides being a high-fashion grandma, showering the happy couple with gifts the moment she knows they're expecting, and always willing to facetime her sisters to show how happy and proud she is with Phi🤣🤣

I mean 🤣 she's a bougie grandmother! Everybody's got a bougie aunt, cousin, or grandma- that type.

Her parenting style doesn't really change from when she had Achilles- in all my universes, she's a bit of what you would call a Dance Mom (just on the nicer, less extreme end of the spectrum in B&R versus Fame). She can be a bit overbearing at times with her anxieties and societal expectations, to a point where Patroclus had to tell Achilles one day that he needed to set some boundaries with his mother when it came to their baby before he did lmao.

Sidebar, but I've never been under the impression TSoA Thetis was a "malicious" mother per se, just a traumatized product of her misogyny-dominated space who took it out on the one constant person who couldn't do shit about her (Patroclus) while she struggled to do something with the power she had. Like that shit with Deidameia was FUCKED up, but i never saw it as a 'my child is too stupid to make choices' as much as a 'we do what we must to protect my child even if he doesn't agree'. Shit, that's a classic royal family move, fr (and they actually DO suck lmao). Foul foul foul in action, but not mal-intentioned towards Achilles.

She also swiped up his baby....and turned out wrong there too lmao. (See where I'm getting the overbearing from 👀 Patroclus has right to be nervous)

I also want to give her a shot at not being that kind of mother and grandmother in B&R, since I'm already taking that morally grey angle in Fame and Fortune. So while she might be a bit overprotective and worrisome, she's not ever going to be a threat. She is Team Philia fr, and if that means answering the call of duty to come get her at 4am bc she's crying like a banshee and they can't handle it? Here comes Grandmother, to show them how to do it right.

[bluboothalassophile]

Preparations for the End

It had started simple enough. It was graduation, for her, from Grimwood Finishing Academy for Ghouls, and she was graduating with honors and a full ride scholarship to Cornell; she wanted to be a veterinarian. And this was all simple because their headmistress Sibella De Ville had informed them to invite their families to this graduation. It wasn’t a massive problem, a lot of the families here were small, and simple, witches, werewolves, vampires, monsters or ghouls of some sort, they were mostly families hiding from the public eye. Hell, there was even a kitsune attending her school. But for the most part, a lot of the kids who landed here were orphans or runaways; persecuted for what made them different because it wasn’t like being a metahuman or alien; this was the supernatural, something mortals would always fear.

But this led Mary-Beth to her little problem. She could invited just one aspect of her family, it simply wouldn’t do. And Mary-Beth voted that she had the weirdest family in existence.

Sure, her mortal parents were supportive; and even encouraging of the family Magic being learned, she was a Charmed One and in the Magic world that was special as most magical families did not have as many as three children. Three was also a sacred number, a number for good luck, and in the Magic world, three was a number for power. So, her family was already an anomaly; as there were only a handful of Charmed Ones at any given time.

But back to her problem, for her graduation party; and inviting her family; she couldn’t NOT invite any aspect of her family, it’d probably start a feud; a bigger feud… again; but at the same time she didn’t think that it’d be this complicated. Family holidays were already hell enough to plan out since so many relatives; mostly on Raven’s side; had come out of the woodworks. And her weird family was so enthusiastic about being supportive and being there for her she couldn’t not invite any of them!

There was her one of the most powerful, raw magic Witches in modern age and completely mortal.

There was her little brother Billy, and he was her brother, he was weird.

Her baby sister Jessica was still growing into her powers.

And her best friend was a Witchlighter and the reincarnated King Arthur of Camelot, with his older brother being the reincarnated Sir Lancelot, and his younger sister being the reincarnated Lady of the Lake; they were also Charmed Ones

Then there was her cousin, Rachel Roth, a.k.a. Raven, most powerful mortal celestial being in existence.

Raven’s older, adopted brother, who was a famous cyborg hero, Victor Stone, a.k.a. Cyborg. Vic was exuberantly supportive of her; even embarrassingly enthusiastic about it; he had shown up to almost all her sports events with his moms, decked out in team spirit cheering for her; even when Rae couldn’t.

Their adopted moms, Dr. Harleen Quinzel and Dr. Pamela Isley, Gotham’s most dangerous villains. Surprisingly awesome and unsurprisingly crazy, but fun and loving aunts for her. Her mom loved them, as did her dad.

Raven’s adopted niece and nephews; Melvin, a metahuman who’s imagination manifested to suit her will and reality, Timmy, who was a metahuman banshee, and Teether, another metahuman who’s indestructible teeth could slice through anything.

Melvin, Timmy, and Teether’s foster parents; who were New Gods; Big Barda and Scot Free; they lived in Australia but would fly up for all family holidays; they were… big. Plus, their son Jacob; who was so precious!

There was Raven’s weird father figure/uncle person, who was also her mentor and loonier than a looney tune; having voluntarily locked himself up in an insane asylum; John Constantine. John Constantine was a madman, who adored Rae and had taught Mary more about thinking fast with Magic than anything her school had taught her.

Raven’s grandfather was the Devil himself, Lucifer Morningstar, who preferred to be called Luci with family, his demon consort Mazikeen Morningstar. Their frequent tag alone was Beatrice Decker; a good friend of Mary’s actually. Next to Chris, Trixie was probably her best friend.

All of the angels were Raven’s aunts and uncles; and Mary still didn’t know how but somehow Mary and her siblins had been adopted into that lunacy. Between Gabriel randomly dropping in on her studies, and Raphael coming around to tutor her, and Anna just swinging in; and Balthazar abducting her to random places, and Castiel showing up to check in on her from time to time with Luci’s son; Jack, who was Cas’ adopted son. It was nuts.

Not to mention Cas’ husband and husband’s brother, Dean and Sam Winchester were always randomly popping in to steal pie and drag her and her siblings off for monster hunting. They had charmed her mother somehow, Mary still didn’t know how, all she knew was that Hunters were always randomly popping into her life now.

Raven’s grandmother was Death, the actual entity of Death. The Endless were also now aunts and uncles; Mary had to remember to put them on her graduation party list as well. The Endless would be highly offended if she invited all the angels but not them, they still hated the angels for some results of the war, but they would hold truce for family gatherings.

And then there were the cousins she had gained through Raven’s demonic father, Trigon, who she couldn’t just ignore! Mary actually like Etrigan, she was awesome, Jason Blood not so much.

Also, if Raven came then her not-boyfriend boyfriend would come along, because Jason never strayed far from her cousin since their reunion. No, Rae would not be bring her actual boyfriend Koryak; no one approved of them dating, except maybe Jason, Mary didn’t get why the idiot didn’t fight harder for her cousin, they were magnetic and totally together.

Mary opened her door; which was taking a hard beating; as she dragged her attention from her quest to finish the list. The moment it opened a man shoved his way into her room.

“HEY!” Mary shrieked as she was shoved aside.

“Where’s the Gem!?” the man demanded.

“What!?”

“I’m tracking her magical signature, it led me here, where is she!?” the man turned on her. He was rather handsome, early thirties, long brown hair, brown eyes; he looked like the comic book character Remy LeBeau.

“And who the hell are you!?” she demanded, her own Magic cackling at her finger tips.

“She’s my aunt!”

“What!?”

“I’m Merlin, Merlin of Camelot, and I need help! I might have just unleashed the Four Horsemen!” he snapped, his brown eyes flashed red.

“Merlin has a beard,” she stated.

He laughed.

[gumnut-logic]

The House

Title: The House

Author: Gumnut

24 - 25 Mar 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Virgil, do you believe in god?”

Word count: 3628

Spoilers & warnings: Some discussion of religion.

Timeline: Standalone

Author’s note: Started as sleepy fic, then did whatever it felt like. I have no idea how this fic happened. I have the urge to disown it. I hope you enjoy it anyway. Many thanks to. @scribbles97 and @i-am-chidorixblossom for putting up with my whining about it :D

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

Edit 14 Dec 2020:

This is an uneasy fic. A very emotional one. It asks questions I think people faced with life and death every day might ask. It is a hard life and it can shake a person to the core.

-o-o-o-

The winds rushed down the mountain side and rattled the curtains and blinds of the old house. The windows were open in the bedroom and he lay curled up on the queen size, the breeze caressing his skin.

It was a cool wind. Created by the loss of the sun and its heat on the plain.

Outside, in the paddock, Thunderbird Two stood up on her struts, silent and regal, towering over the homestead.

The only sound was the sigh of the gully winds.

And he lay listening to it.

It was musical in its own way, like an evening lullaby. They had been known to be a howling banshee, but tonight they were simply gentle.

He needed them to be.

Why he was here, he didn’t really know. It had been a mid-air decision, a course change on a whim. He just felt a need to be here.

Of course, it became obvious to John rather quickly and his questions just increased in urgency. In the end, Virgil had simply apologised and cut him off.

Sometimes there just were no answers.

So he parked his ‘bird in the paddock and walked through the knee high grass to the house. He didn’t have a key, so he went in through a window. No doubt the security system was screaming up a storm somewhere, but he didn’t care.

A pair of knowledgeable hands and a few pulled wires solved most of that and he would fix the rest later.

No doubt Brains would improve the system as a result anyway.

He walked through the rooms, staring at the dust cloths, marshalling the memories, watching the ghosts as they danced in his minds eye. All his brothers were here. Various ages, various expressions. A nick in a door frame spoke of the time they had tried to move the couch out of the living room and into the kitchen on some hair-brained scheme involving their own home cooking show. The couch had made it, taking a chunk of the doorframe with it. It was the flour on the seat cushions that caused the most concern...well, until Grandma discovered the three raw eggs Gordon had stashed under the pillow, under his head, on the couch.

The kitchen was the focus of the building. The ghosts were almost solid. For a moment he thought he had tripped over Gordon, collided with Scott, only to turn around and come face to face with his mother.

But she evaporated as he froze. Younger knowledge overwriting what he would prefer to believe.

The dust on the floor held no footprints but his own.

He turned away and climbed the stairs to his room.

It was large. The Tracys had never been poor on space. They may have been short on money from time to time in those early days, but never short on space. The building had been built generations before Virgil, during a time of prosperity, and they had built big. So five boys, a sister, a grandmother and her son had as much room as they needed,

He yanked the dust-covers off his bedroom furniture and threw it all out into the hall and for a moment, he was home again, the paraphernalia he had left behind still scattered around him like a snapshot from his personal history. He opened the windows to let the evening breeze in and sat down almost involuntarily on the bed.

Why had he come here?

There were only memories, no answers.

“Virgil?”

He sighed.

“Virgil!”

His lips thinned a moment before he slapped his comms off and unbuckling his baldric, threw it to the floor. He resisted the sudden urge to stomp on it in a fit of childish temper.

Instead he stared down at his hands, still wrapped in his blue gloves. They blurred a moment as he realised they were stained, flaky brown caught in the stitching and seams.

Suddenly he couldn’t get them off fast enough. They hit the floor beside his baldric with a solid thud as he stood up, ants suddenly under the lining of his uniform. His eyes traced more stains, red-brown caught in the fabric, soaked into the edges of his pads as if attempting to reach through the material and leach into his skin.

An incoherent sound and his fingers were scrabbling at his harness and his belt. His toolkit his the wooden floor with a clatter. The clink of his harness followed and it was with some urgent desperation that the rest of his uniform followed, boots and all. He stared at it, a pile of blue fabric and silicon leather.

It was kicked out the door to join the dust cloths in the hallway.

He ended up standing in the middle of his room in only his black t-shirt and shorts.

Hunching a little he returned to his seat upon the bed and resumed staring at the floorboards.

Ultimately, he had no idea how long he sat there, thinking nothing and doing less. At some point he curled up on the bed. It was hazy there for a bit, the only constant being the winds blowing down through the gullies into his window...just like they had when he was a boy.

His mother would come and secure the windows for the night, closing them just enough to let the cooling breeze in, but not let the curtain billow and rattle enough to keep him awake. The bed had been smaller then, the dresser higher, the room larger. She used to sit on the side of the bed and sing to him. She had shared her love of music and to this day he kept those tunes close to his heart.

Mom...

If he closed his eyes he could imagine the breeze was his mother’s fingers playing with his hair.

He squeezed his eyes tight, shutting out the remainder of the evening light as moisture attempted to pool in their corners.

Control...breathe through it.

He let it all go on an exhale, ignoring the faint whimper that accompanied it.

Another breath, somewhat shaky, calmed with another exhale, and he let his body fall limp on the bed, tense muscles relaxing.

Oh god.

The breeze rushed over his skin teasing goose pimples. He grabbed the edge of the old doona and rolled himself into it, facing away from the dresser, away from the windows and, cocooning himself safe, he hid.

-o-o-o-

Virgil’s report of his mission failure had been professional and succinct. His voice was its usual confident self, the content factual and unemotional.

Perhaps that should have been the clue.

Halfway across the United States, Thunderbird Two committed a flight path deviation and landed in Kansas.

And Virgil stopped answering his comms.

John knew where his brother was and even possibly why, but that didn’t make him any less worried.

After half an hour of dead air from TB2, John was really beginning to worry.

His first instinct would have been to contact Scott, but his eldest brother was currently in Japan attending a cable car disaster with Gordon and Alan. So, asking Grandma to fill in for him, her worry as blatant as his own, he took his second option and realigned TB5 with Kansas and, dropping down to Earth, went after Virgil himself.

It only took a matter of minutes. Gravity was its usual obstacle, but he chose to ignore it. He would likely pay for that later, but he had more important considerations at the moment.

It didn’t take him long to find the jimmied window, or to climb through and follow the dusty footprints. His own tread was near silent in his spacesuit, only the creaking floorboards betrayed his passing.

The air was stale and old. The family hadn’t returned here since Dad had gone missing. No one had mentioned it, probably because no one wanted to face this place without him. It was still functional, fully furnished, protected, awaiting its owners’ return should they need it. The building was huge, but the Tracy family had long outgrown it and moved out to save the world.

John followed the footprints up the stairs. He passed his own empty room as the trail led him directly to Virgil’s and the pile of discarded dust cloths outside his door. He frowned at the balled up uniform and the green of his brother’s baldric.

Stepping ever so quietly around the mess, he peered in.

A huddled shape was curled up on the bed.

“Virgil?”

The shape made a muffled sound.

“Virgil?”

“What?!” The head that shot up angrily held a mess of black hair and a pair of red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes. The eyes frowned. “John?”

He took a step inside the room. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. You wouldn’t answer your comms.”

His brother turned away from him. “Sorry.”

John frowned again. The single word was a mix of sincerity and put-upon sarcasm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you honestly think I’m going to believe that? You’re half naked, lying in an old bed in a deserted house.”

“So what do you want me to say?”

“The truth wouldn’t hurt.”

Virgil stared at him a moment, only to look away again and not answer.

John sighed, walked over to the bed and sat on the edge in echo of something he had done so many times as a boy. He used to come in here and talk Virgil’s ear off about space and stars and his latest science projects. Virgil, in turn, would nod, say the right things at the right time and generally be the good older brother. John suspected that Virgil hadn’t understood half of what he was saying, but the older boy had never said anything. Not that Virgil wasn’t smart, just his interests lay in different areas.

They were both quiet by nature and Virgil’s patience drew John to him. Mostly because he would listen. One of the hardest things about being a far above average student with very specific interests was finding someone to talk to about them. John wasn’t a big talker outside the family, but that was because society in general was lost two words into any sentence he wanted to construct. John had no use for general gossip when he had spent the day discovering a new extra-solar object. Who cared who won the football when Neptune was aligning with Earth in a way that wouldn’t happen for another one hundred and sixty five years?

It was Virgil who stopped and listened as a young John Tracy babbled about his latest discoveries.

He was his big brother.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that.” It was rough and abrupt.

“You did your best.”

“I know that, too.” A sigh. “John, I just...need to be alone right now.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What?” At least Virgil shoved the cover off his head to glare at him for that. Could be considered progress.

“If you had truly wanted to be alone, you’d be back on the island on some deserted beach, or locked in your room or your studio.” He looked around at the memories held in stasis. “Here...here you are far from alone.” Memories danced.

Virgil swallowed, looking anywhere but at John, before letting his head drop to stare at the doona wrapped around him.

“Why are you here, Virgil?”

His brother didn’t answer, just throwing himself back down under the doona and curling up.

John sighed.

Perhaps another angle.

“Did you know Alan stores his marshmallow stash on Three? Scott discovered it yesterday and promptly stole half of it in revenge for Alan stealing his chocolate stash last week.” He waited.

Muffled. “How do you know that?”

“I have ways.”

“Spies?”

“Spy.”

“Eos.”

“Uh huh.”

“Why you telling me then?”

“So you know how I know who you are currently painting.”

As predicted that did it. Virgil sat up, immediately angry. “What the hell have you been doing in my studio?”

Calmly. “I haven’t been in your studio, Virgil.”

“But Eos has.”

“Yes, she has. And you can’t complain, because she can’t knock over paint or damage your paintings. We...just like to keep an eye on you.”

“Why?” Brown eyes were staring suspiciously.

“Because unbeknownst to the rest of my family, I’m not a damned hermit.” Perhaps he hadn’t meant to say it quite that way, but at least he had his brother’s attention now. “I like to see how my family is going and it is not like I can just poke my head in the door to check up on you is it?”

“Ah, yes, you can and have.” Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay up there?”

John shifted where he sat. “We are fine. The subject at hand is you, Virgil.”

An immediate retreat. “I’m fine.”

Oh, for god’s sake. “I know you are painting Mom and Dad.”

Virgil didn’t react. Didn’t say anything.

“This morning wasn’t your fault.”

“No, it was fate.”

John frowned. “What?”

“It was damned fate, John. Fate that I grabbed that extra mouthful of coffee before leaving. Fate that I had a head wind in transit. Fate that I was too damn late to save anyone!”

His brother was trembling, fire in his eyes. But it wasn’t a passionate fire, it was one that consumed, damaged and left nothing but ash.

“Virgil-“

“Why, John? Why does it keep taking? It took Mom. It took Dad. It took that entire family. WHY?!” Virgil hit the bed, the mattress simply springing back as if nothing had happened. “I keep trying and she keeps taking.” This last was said in a failing voice, Virgil’s baritone cracking.

John took in a breath. “Virgil, do you believe in god?”

Brown eyes latched onto him, desperation in their depths. He didn’t answer immediately, those eyes shifting away to look back down at the bed. “I did.” A pause. “I do.” His brother swallowed, his shoulders dropping. “I don’t know anymore.”

John wasn’t a toucher, but he felt the urge to reach out and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

He didn’t. He simply answered. “Neither do I.”

Virgil stared at him. Their family had been brought up to trust in god. To thank and obey and do good. When their mother was taken, their father’s faith was shaken. The family struggled, but eventually that god was welcomed back.

Their faith didn’t survive the loss of their father. Not in a family sense. Each brother had taken on their own thoughts, wrestled with the demons of life the best they could. John knew Scott had lost most of his. Scott had born the brunt of the loss of both their parents. Harsh reality had beaten faith from the man. He wouldn’t use the word ‘bitter’ in relation to Scott. The situation was more a disillusion, a broken trust that could never be forgiven.

The two youngest Tracy’s still went through some of the motions of faith, but John doubted the spirit was behind them.

John, himself, hadn’t entirely lost his beliefs. They had just changed, evolving into a reverence of the universe, an amazement at the possibilities and sheer awe at creation itself. Whether there was an deity at the centre of it all? He had learnt enough to know he didn’t know enough to make a determination. But there was hope, there was imagination, and just that little bit of magic beyond all the science.

Virgil, he knew, didn’t follow any of the rituals and his celebration of religious holidays like Christmas and Easter was mostly secular. But he had always thought that of all of them, Virgil was the most spiritual. With his connection to the world around him, his sensitivity, his art, and, despite all the horrors he had witnessed, his belief in the good in people, Virgil was the most likely to hold on to his faith. And as far as John could see he had. As part of who he was more than anything else. Something quiet and kept to himself.

To see him sitting here questioning it...

“You came here for Mom and Dad.”

That did it. Those red rimmed brown eyes blinked and teared up. John swallowed himself, his throat growing tight.

Those eyes stared at him a moment longer before Virgil once again let himself drop to the bed, this time staring up at the ceiling. “For god’s sake, Johnny.” An awkward sniff.

“Am I right?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to you.”

His brother ran a hand across his face. “Goddamnit.” A hitched sigh. “Why?”

“It was meant to be.”

“How can you say that? How can the death of a family of five be ‘meant to be’? I had their blood all over my goddamned hands, John! There wasn’t a damn thing I could do. I tried! I tried so damned hard and I couldn’-“ He broke off with a strangled sound.

This time John did reach out and touch his brother’s leg through the bedclothes. “I’m sorry, Virgil. I’m so very sorry you had to experience that.”

“It sucks.”

John squeezed his leg.

There was a silence for some time. Virgil biting his lip trying to control his emotions. John simply holding onto that leg and honestly trying to work out whether he should offer his brother a hug or not. He had no doubt that if their positions had been reversed, Virgil would have grabbed him already, but John was hesitant to take the step himself and felt the shame of that indecision.

Eventually, it was Virgil who broke the silence. He cleared his throat. “If there is a god, I’m not very happy with them today.”

“If there is a god, I’m sure they understand why.”

“Well, good luck to them, because I don’t understand their motivation at all in any shape or form.”

“It is not ours to understand.”

The glare from the bed slapped him across the face. “That much is obvious with the whole I don’t understand thing.”

“Virgil-“

But his brother sat up abruptly. “You were right.” He shimmied across the bed to the edge and put his feet on the floor. “I did come here for Mom and Dad. And I was stupid to think I would find either of them here. Call it a fantasy and let’s go home.” He reached for his boots.

“Virgil, come here.” John held out his arm, gesturing towards himself with his hand.

His big brother stared up at him. “John, you don’t have to-“

“Come here.” The Space Monitor spoke and Thunderbird Two automatically obeyed. John couldn’t help but smile just a little at the reaction.

Virgil scowled at him. “Smart ass.”

John dropped his arm around his brother’s shoulders and drew his head onto his own. Virgil was larger than he, but shorter, and John used every inch he had to his advantage. “You may be my big brother, but I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a long time now and it might be my turn to help you.”

Virgil frowned. “You’ve always help-“

“Virgil, shut up.”

His brother’s eyes widened, but his mouth closed.

“I don’t know if there is a god, I don’t know why Mom and Dad were taken, or why that family had to die. All I know is that I have a good brother who tried. Who always tries. If I have faith, it is definitely faith in you. You and the rest of our family. We do good, Virgil. The universe can not ask any more of us.”

Quiet. “What if it does?”

“We can only give what we have.”

“Until we have nothing.”

John’s heart lurched. “Virgil-“

“Johnny, thank you.” His brother reached around and clasped his shoulder. “I appreciate this more than you realise, I promise. I just...I just need time.” A weak smile. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

That heart fell into his boots. “Virgil-“

But his brother was heading towards the door, grabbing his uniform. “You need a lift home?”

John shook his head. “I need to return to space. No acclimatisation time.”

Realisation sunk in on Virgil’s face. “Shit, John, Of course, why the hell didn’t I....Scott will be pissed.”

“You were distracted. And besides, Scott is going to be too busy yelling at you for your course deviation to even notice I dropped in.”

“Good point.” A sigh. “Thank you, John. Sorry for the worry.”

“I’m used to worry, Virgil. I have four brothers, one sister and a variety of extended family who regularly attempt to turn my hair various shades of colour.”

“Don’t worry, it’s mutual.” A breath. “And John? I do have faith in you, and Scott, and Gordon, and Alan, and Kayo, and Grandma, and Brains. You...you are my family and we do do good. I just wish...” Virgil didn’t finish the sentence. He threw his uniform back on, grabbed the dust covers and with John’s help, spread them across the furniture, including the bed.

Following their footsteps back to the window, Virgil reset the alarm and they darted over the pane, closing it behind them.

The elevator decelerated into the field and John strode towards it, watching his brother approach his ‘bird. Virgil reached one of Thunderbird Two’s struts and for just a moment, reached out and touched it, running his hand over the cold metal before dropping his head against it and closing his eyes.

John opened his mouth, but the moment passed and Virgil moved on to the open hatch and was swallowed by the green behemoth.

“John?”

“Yes, Eos?”

“Is Virgil well?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[fatgirltales]

  Let me take you on a trip back to a much simpler time, when we didn’t have to worry about adult responsibilities and the complexities that come with them. So please, if you will, enter into my pseudo-TARDIS for a fun trip back in time to…

  [dropcap]M[/dropcap]ay 1990

After a long, cold winter, it was finally springtime in Northeast Ohio; the trees and flowers were bursting forth in all of their glory and the air was warm once again. I just turned eighteen and looked forward to graduating high school in less than a month.

I was also beyond excited to attend my Senior Prom.

I’m sure this excitement for prom sounds normal for a typical teenage girl about to graduate high school, however, I wasn’t one to follow the crowd or popular trends – I was a rebellious Punk Rock teenager. Nonetheless, I decided to attend this conformist social gathering with my friends – in my outrageous non-conformist style, of course.

There was, however, one enormous obstacle standing between me and having the time of my life at my Senior Prom – Mom-ster.

Mom-ster said I wasn’t allowed to attend my prom because I was fat.

Mom-ster, in her infinite wisdom determined that not only would I never find a dress to fit me (mind you, I was a size 18) but if I managed to find a guy to take me, not only would he expect me to “put out”, but everyone at the prom would make fun of me behind my back.

“You’ll look like the dancing hippos from Fantasia in a prom dress!” She claimed she was saving me the embarrassment and heartache of ending up like Sissy Spacek in the 1976 movie adaptation of Stephen King’s horror novel, Carrie. Mom-ster always had a penchant for the melodramatic.

Being a brave and rebellious punk rock girl, I decided I would go to my prom, no matter what Mom-ster said.

I asked my “totally cool and awesome” friend Charlie, who graduated two years earlier, to escort me to the prom. I had a crush on Charlie my junior and senior years of high school, but it was only because he was such a devastatingly cool punk rock guy; those were a rare commodity in my circle of friends and in my school. We always had an awesome time together no matter what we did or who we were with. He, of course, said yes to taking me to the prom. I knew we were going to have a blast!

Deciding to have my dress made, not only because of what Mom-ster said about not being able to find one to fit me but because I wanted to look different, I shopped the pattern section of our local sewing shop. I found two different dresses: I liked the bodice and skirt of one and the sleeves of the other. My friends’ mom and grandmother made my dress for me.

I felt like a Punk Rock Cinderella getting ready for the ball.

Dad knew I was going to the Prom, but that was our little secret. In the event I got “busted” by Mom-ster, he would deny all knowledge. I agreed to his terms before he dropped me off at my friends’ house so I could get ready for the evening’s festivities.

My dress turned out even better than I had imagined. Crafted in taffeta, black of course, with a ruched bodice, flared and flowery straps with stretch lace sleeves, my dress looked amazing on my young, curvy body. I accessorized my look with a pair of hi-top black Converse “Chucks”. I was indeed a Punk Rock Cinderella.

Charlie, also dressed in all black, wore his Sid Vicious choker chain with a padlock instead of a tie, along with his slacks tucked into a handsome pair of shiny black 14 eyelet Doc Martens – the ultimate punk rock fashion accessory.

Between the both of us, my Punk Rock date and I had one set of eyes, since we both wore our bangs covering the left side of our faces. Looking back now, we were more Goth than Punk, but we always considered ourselves a hybrid of Punk and Goth.

I gave Charlie a black rose boutonniere (a white rose sprayed black), and he gave me an amazing armband corsage adorned with mini red roses and carnations. We were ready to (punk) rock it out at my Senior Prom!

Once Charlie and I arrived, everyone wanted our photo – Charlie and I were without question the coolest duo at my prom. We gladly obliged my classmates and posed for some photos.

There were no reenactments from the movie Carrie, as Mom-ster had predicted.

I brought heels and wore them for our formal photo – I really wish I hadn’t though. My friends’ mom told me, “You’ll want to have at least one normal photo from your Senior Prom when you’re a lot older and looking back. After all, you’re not going to be Punk Rock forever.” 

I cringe now looking back at my prom photo, in which I wore black kitten heels with bows.

Punk, it turns out, was not some “teenage phase” Charlie and I were just going through.

Charlie and I spent some time after the prom at the Lake Erie shore, walking the local pier and listening to The Cure’s latest album, Disintegration. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night. The best part was that unlike in the story Cinderella, I didn’t have to be home by midnight and nothing turned into a pumpkin.

Later that night when I got back to my friends’ house, she asked me if Charlie and I kissed – my immediate response was, “Ewww, no! It’s Charlie!” She was perplexed, as she knew I liked him.

Somewhere deep down inside, I knew Charlie didn’t like girls – and I’m sure he knew, too. Charlie was well-hidden, deep in the closet back then. We had a small group of friends we regularly hung out with – I am sure we all knew Charlie was gay before he finally came out and announced it.

Recently, while talking with an acquaintance about our proms, I shared this tale with him. He responded with roaring laughter and teased me, “So let me get this straight, unlike your prom date, you took a gay guy you had a crush on to your Senior Prom? Haha! That makes you a fat ass fag hag!”

Both agitated and enraged by his ignorance, I looked at him and replied, “So let ME get this straight, according to your backward and outdated thinking, I went to prom with a gay guy and he went with a big fat chick. That’s what you’re saying, right? What’s with the ridiculous labels? You’re no better than my mom!”

After a few moments of silence, followed by him turning about ten different shades of red and having sweat bead up on his forehead, he awkwardly apologized. Being completely embarrassed, he agreed that his thinking was ignorant and seriously needs updating – and that he needs to be more vigilant before opening his mouth.

Afterward, as I was driving home I thought to myself, why are there still people who need to label others? Didn’t these people get the memo that shaming someone for their sexuality or body type (or anything for that matter!) just isn’t acceptable behavior anymore?

This is, after all, the twenty-first century.

Sure, we might not have flying space cars like in the cartoon The Jetson’s, but we have come a long way. Unfortunately, there are some people out there who still have thinking that resembles The Flintstone’s – prehistoric and outdated.

Why do some people still feel the need to label, categorize and bash others for their differences? I’m certain the world would be so much better without all the ignorance.

We are all different, yet human. Let’s embrace that instead.

Charlie and I were two young adults who had a fun night together at my Senior Prom. I wouldn’t trade the time we shared or our lifelong friendship for anything.

To this day, Charlie and I still rock out in our Doc Martens and listen to the glorious Punk and dark wave music of our teen years. We have the attitude of those rebellious days still coursing through our veins. We had a blast when we were younger, especially at my Senior Prom, and we still happily reminisce about those wonderful and carefree days.

Charlie remains one of my very best friends, even though we don’t see each other all that often. I look forward to times spent not only with him but with his wonderful husband as well. Our amazing lifelong friendship is based on unconditional love, as it should be with all relationships.

I don’t call Charlie my “gay friend” and I’m quite sure he doesn’t call me his “big fat friend” – Charlie is my friend and I love him.

Period. End of discussion.

Charlie – 1988

Me & Charlie in our formal prom pic

Best prom duo ever!

My “Chucks” at prom

Me and Charlie at a high school alumni gathering in 2010

Charlie & Kevin 2010

The following playlist was carefully and excitedly put together by Charlie and myself, recalling those amazing, beautiful, sometimes challenging, yet extremely fun days of our youth. We hope you enjoy these songs as much as we do! 🙂

Prom 1990

Punk Rock Girl – The Dead Milkmen

Living In Oblivion (original version) – Anything Box

Why Can’t I Be You? – The Cure

Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode

Bizarre Love Triangle – New Order

She’s In Parties – Bauhaus

Devil Inside – INXS

Lips Like Sugar – Echo and the Bunnymen

Peek-A-Boo – Siouxsie & The Banshees

Orange Crush – R.E.M.

Love Will Tear Us Apart – Joy Division

Under The Milky Way – The Church

Rock Lobster – The B-52’s

Love Is The Slug – Fuzzbox

Fascination Street – The Cure

The Ballroom Blitz – Sweet

How Soon Is Now – The Smiths

The Promise – When In Rome

Space Age Love Song – A Flock Of Seagulls

Don’t Let’s Start – They Might Be Giants

Add It Up – Violent Femmes

Head Like A Hole – Nine Inch Nails

Work For Love (extended version) – Ministry

Headhunter – Front 242

Join In The Chant – Nitzer Ebb

Lucretia My Reflection – The Sisters of Mercy

You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) – Dead or Alive

Chains Of Love – Erasure

Dead Man’s Party – Oingo Boingo

Mexican Radio – Wall Of Voodoo

The Reflex – Duran Duran

Red Red Wine – UB40

Sunday Bloody Sunday – U2

Beds Are Burning – Midnight Oil

The One I Love – R.E.M.

World Shut Your Mouth – Julian Cope

Rip It Up – Orange Juice

I Melt With You – Modern English

Dr. Martens Boots – Alexei Sayle

It’s A Sin – Pet Shop Boys

Things Can Only Get Better – Howard Jones

A Girl Like You – The Smithereens

One Way Or Another – Blondie

Dancing With Myself – Billy Idol

Never Let Me Down Again – Depeche Mode

The Sun Always Shines On TV – a-ha

Running Up That Hill – Kate Bush

Desire (Come and Get It) – Gene Loves Jezebel

(Keep Feeling) Fascination – The Human League

Pump It Up – Elvis Costello and The Attractions

Fever – The Cramps

The Great Commandment – Camouflage

Underneath The Radar – Underworld

West End Girls – Pet Shop Boys

Eighties – Killing Joke

Burning Down The House – Talking Heads

Green Haze – Elvis Hitler

Higher Ground – The Red Hot Chili Peppers

Story Of My Life – Social Distortion

Mountain Song – Jane’s Addiction

Anarchy In The UK – Sex Pistols

London Calling – The Clash

Holiday In Cambodia – The Dead Kennedys

I Wanna Be Sedated – The Ramones

My Way – Sid Vicious

    My Big (Fat Gay) Punk Rock Prom #mixtape #playlist #prom #classicalternative #punk #goth #Ilovethe80s Let me take you on a trip back to a much simpler time, when we didn't have to worry about adult responsibilities and the complexities that come with them.