#looking back on it the stories we got told as children were pretty fucked up

[ghost-bxrd]

Hello I too am here for fae!dick it's getting me through the workweek

One of the Other things I am VERY intrigued by is Too Many Teeth. It feels a little Uncanny Valley to me. Because you see it, you know it's Wrong, but you're not entirely sure why, and even if you could explain it, who is going to believe you?

Dick has too many teeth? OK well how many teeth SHOULD he have? Maybe there are a lot of people out here knowing how many teeth one should have, but are people cracking open their mouths and letting you count them? Maybe his wisdom teeth came in weird. You don't know.

Anyway I don't know if this is in line with any folklore but Dick stealing people's teeth? Like if he whacks someone in the face and a tooth comes out, does he pick it up, dust it off, and stick it in his gums? You had your chance, it's his tooth now? It's not just Too Many Teeth, it's a collection of teeth.

Hehehe okay, some more lore time!

So line in the sand is: there is no line.

There’s no rule to the other beings. The fae creatures I grew up with did not follow any logic. They changed a bit with every retelling of the stories and every time you thought you caught a glimpse of them through the stained glass of the kitchen window they’d have some other feature you’d never heard of or seen before.

So when I say too many teeth I imagine anything from “teeth that look crammed into a human mouth” to “several rows of teeth like a shark’s” depending on what you expect to see and what the other being feels like looking to others on this fine day.

On this note, it would not be too far fetched to imagine Dick would collect teeth like a giggling magpie, only to adorn himself with them or shove them in his own gums when he feels like it.

You know, being a vigilante has the added benefit of being allowed to knock out criminals’ teeth every other night anyway. ✨

Uncanny valley indeed 🌙

[inbabylontheywept]

by tradition, the first day of the camp was spent pranking the group next to us. our prank was ziptying the zippers on their sleeping bags together. we figured one of them would sleep with a knife, because we all slept with knives, because we were dangerous maniacs and half the danger of a dangerous maniac is that they tend to think that they are Actually Normal. so. obviously that didn't pan out, and instead they got stuck in their sleeping bags for like half an hour and because their scoutmaster slept in their car and couldn't hear them yelling, they actually only got out when one of them went full caged animal and chewed through the plastic. which meant they had time to make it to the axe throwing station, but they did miss breakfast.

the scale of our victory was impossible to understate. it was an epic prank. unrivaled. the best in years. we knew they were going to retaliate, and we both feared and craved it. maybe i'm still a maniac, but that feels like a common thing, right? do well adjusted people that are not maniacs crave Judgement?

(serious answers only please, from people who would never spoon a knife.)

anyway, the next day we got back to our camp, and the neighors had skipped dinner to just come back and fill all our tents with pinecones. which was like, a decent prank, i guess, but it probably took them an hour to fill all the tents up, and it took us like 15 minutes to tip the tents out, and as a return volley to the ziptie prank it was incredibly underwhelming. we felt a little cheated.

so our scouting group held a council, and we agreed, unanimously, that our prank was 100% better and theirs sucked and that there would be no escalating tensions because we were the clear victors. they'd had their chance to retaliate, and they failed, and so the war was over. that was it.

we agreed on this. we swore. but madness is a relative thing, and in our group of maniacs, we still had J. i have many, many J stories. too many. i biked up to school with him from 4th grade to 8th, and i saw him get hit by cars thrice. he'd just swerve into the road sometimes. one time on a rainy day in 4th grade, a car splashed me, and before i could even consider my response J yelled I GOT THIS and then he blitzed off after the car. i didn't see him the rest of the day. i was so anxious i barely slept that night. i saw him the next morning and he told me that he'd chased the car until it got to a gated community and then he'd climbed over the fence and looked in peoples garages until he found the one with the car, and then he'd ripped the hood ornament off and broke their window. then he gave me a hood ornament to a different brand of car from the one that splashed me and i didnt tell him because i didnt want him missing more school. i want you to mentally adjust your mental model of the things a 9 year old is capable of doing to include chasing a car for five miles, hopping a fence, breaking into a garage, and vandalizing a randos car.

and that's just the tip of my J stories iceberg.

the point of all this is just to say that J was so crazy that he made us knife spooners look like accountanting enthusiasts.

so we agreed the war was done, and we shook on it, and then J, in the name of friendship, in the name of honor, in the name of avenging our pinecone filled tents, snuck over to their camp that evening and fornicated with a watermelon that they'd been saving in their cooler.

i want to emphasize, again, that this was not the consensus of the group. that is not a prank. like i know it seems like we dont know what pranks are because of the whole ziptie thing, but even we knew that fucking someones food is not a prank, it is a crime, and a sin, the kind of weapon that had only been ethically used once in history by Horus in his battle against Set and none of us dumb assholes had owl heads.

so.

the next day went pretty well. we threw some more axes again, which is a valuable and important skill for children to learn i guess, and we learned how to tie knots, which is a skill that turned out to be far sexier than i ever expected, and i learned how to light fires with a magnifying glass, which was great. i'm looking back at this, and i am actually just now beginning to realize that the clear and obvious point of scouting is turning child sociopaths into apex predators.

and then the day ended, and we went back to our camps, except for our leaders, who had a sort of Scout Leader Meeting they were going to have for a few hours at least. it was built into the camp, that day was supposed to be our day to chill as a group, and make peach cobbler, and just be buddies.

except, as it turned out, our neighboring group's alternative to making peach cobbler was eating their watermelon. so at some point they opened their watermelon, and woo boy. oh man. you think catholics hated seedless watermelons? you should see how much mormons hate seeded ones.

so we were chilling by the fire, and then we heard screaming from the camp over, but we didn't pay much mind to that because there are many reasonable explanations for a group of 10ish children to scream simulanteoulsy, such as wasps, which are abundant in arizona, and then the screaming got closer, which did not bother us because there were many reasons for a group 10ish children to scream and run towards us, for example, wasps, which are abundant in arizona, and then we noticed they had large sticks on them, which we figured were perhaps being used to drive away the wasps, which are abundant in arizona, and then they arrived and they started beating the shit out of us, abundantly, in arizona.

so we ran into the woods.

now, at this point, we had no idea what was up. we knew that the camp next to us was out for blood, which was crazy, because we'd actually locked them in fartproof bags for 30 minutes and they'd barely done anything back, and were trying to figure out what could possibly have happened that could drive them to Terrible Violence when we realized that J was cackling like a witch that had learned how to order children off of ebay.

so we politely asked J what the hell he had done, and he politely explained that had "done" their watermelon, and we politely beat him with large sticks because life is nothing but endless cycles of violence.

we were still being chased by the other camp btw. so it was them, chasing us, chasing J, and then they got tired and went back to their camp, and we chased J a little longer because we were mad we'd all been walloped with sticks, and J did not care because he was a supernatural entity whose only weaknesses were Needles and Fire, and then we got tired and went back and J kept running, and we just kind of figured he would come back eventually.

he did not.

we went back to our tents, and we waited, and J did not come back. we stayed up all night, peering into the forest, worrying. our leader came back, and we did our best to hide our battlewounds, and he either genuinely did not notice or simply accepted this as part of Boyhood. then he went to bed, and we waited, and waited, and waited. And Waited. and did not sleep.

eventually, we convened again, and we agreed that if J was not back by after breakfast, we would have to tell the scoutleader about what exactly had transpired. and we really did not want to do that, because it would have meant that everyone would have gotten in a very large amount of trouble.

morning came around, and J still was not back. we went to breakfast, and we ate very, very slowly. we were afraid the other camp was going to continue their war with us, but they actually looked fairly frightened. one of them actually came to us and asked for a truce, and we agreed because we truly felt bad for them. like, yes, they did beat us with sticks, but J fucked their watermelon. we werent complicit in the watermelonfuckening but they didnt know that, and it was definitely the kind of crime that left one outside the bounds of the social contract.

and then when we could eat no more bits, when breakfast was almost done, right when i was getting pushed to go and tell the scoutleader that we needed to find J, he arrived. he was sleep deprived, and noticeably scraped and bloody, and tied to his belt was a blood squirrel tail.

and i asked him, J, where did you get that? and he said, don't worry man, it was already dead, which did not answer by question and gave me several more.

the camp ended that day, and the other groups avoided us like the plague, and it was not until some weeks later that we were able to piece together what happened.

J, in his sojourn through the forest, managed to find (or, possibly, make) a dead squirrel. he then cut off the tail to keep on his belt, because he was a weird little freak like that. he also took the dead squirrel, and he skinned it, then he tied it to a little crucifix made of wood, and he left it in the other scouting group's camp. which is why they were so scared of us.

it was such an unhinged thing to do it actually sobered us up for a while. scouting became a scary thing for us. we'd found something dark and primal there, in the place where no adult could see, and our appreciation of J as a wild ride kind of changed into seeing him as something truly dangerous. we had a sense wherever he went, something terrible would follow, and the only way to escape it was to not be there when it arrived. and so piece by piece, the scout group dissolved. it wasnt until he moved out of that ward that the rest of us started daring to go back to scouts.

and for the final epilogue of the tale:

i have a little brother who was friends with a younger cousin of J's, and the two would go to parties together in highschool. and sometimes J, who was in his early 20's at that point, would show up at the parties, and it was unsettling in such a way that it just became a known risk at parties with the cousin. and at one party, they were playing truth or dare, and J wasn't even in the room, but someone asked him the Truth of how he always knew how to find the cousin, and J said the cousin's mom had mentioned she was worried about him and the parties so he'd put a tracker in his car. and when he saw that the cousin was out of the house on weekends, he'd made a visit by, just to make sure he was safe.

then he left. and every single person at that party went over that poor kid's car. they searched the wheel-wells, checked underneath it, the works, until they found the tracker. then because they were clever, they didnt break it, or throw it away, or anything that would've given away what they'd done. they just gave the tracker to the cousin, who put it in his glovebox. and on schooldays, he'd take it with him, so J could see him in the parking lot. and on weekends, he could leave it in the garage, so he could go to parties with out Hell coming with him. because everyone that met J - every single person - knew that the only way to be safe from him was to be far, far away.

[starkwlkr]

I LOVE YOUR CHARLES FICS ESPECIALLY THE RUBY ONES OMG! This might sound strange, but could you write one where Y/N gets tired of the paparazzi and tries to physically fight a reporter? Kinda like the björk reporter incident in the 90’s. I wanna hear Charles and ruby’s reactions!

that’s my wife! | charles leclerc

charles: you know the only reason i got married was so i could yell that’s my wife whenever i wanted?

also i made it SLIGHTLY different so instead of fighting the paparazzi, mama leclerc throws hands with toxic f1 fanboys 😍

Y/n always hated paparazzi, it was no surprise. She knew from the start of her relationship with Charles that she would be photographed whenever they stepped out. She knew what she was getting herself into when she started dating Charles and she tried to ignore it. It worked for a couple years and then Ruby and Mathéo came along. Being a mother changed Y/n. She was more protective of her children and husband.

When she wasn’t in the paddock, she was back home in Monaco with the kids and Pascale. The wag pages updated on where she was and some fans would try to find her.

During the week that Charles was away, Y/n was out with the kids in sunny Monaco. Ruby needed new school supplies and Y/n needed to buy Mathéo new clothes so she took both of her kids to the store. Charles has told her many times to at least have someone with her when she went out, but Y/n didn’t think it was necessary.

“Maman! Can I have this one?” Ruby pointed to a pink backpack that was on a window display.

“You already have a backpack, my love, we are only buying items we need like journals and books for you and new clothes for Théo, okay? And maybe we’ll get ice cream after. How does that sound?” Y/n asked the little girl, who seemed bummed that she wasn’t getting the pretty pink backpack she saw, but cheered up when her maman mentioned ice cream.

Ruby held onto the stroller as the family of three walked the sidewalk to the nearest store that sold school supplies. That’s when Ruby noticed a man pointing his phone at them. She wondered why and asked her maman.

“Let’s go inside, quickly.” Y/n told Ruby as they finally made it to the store.

“Why is he staring?” Ruby stared back at the man and even stuck out her tongue at him when he wouldn’t stop recording.

“Don’t pay attention, Ruby Jules. Let’s go.” Y/n grabbed Ruby’s hand.

“I don’t like him, maman.” Ruby whispered.

“I don’t either,” Y/n sighed as she started her shopping. But the man, who was still recording, decided to make her day worse.

“Tell Charles that Max is the better driver!” He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of her. “Fuck Ferrari!”

And suddenly, Y/n had so much anger built up in her that it made her snatch the phone from the man’s hands and throw it as far as possible. It practically landed on the other side of the shop.

“What the fuck!”

“Don’t ever disrespect my husband like that. Have the day you deserve, shithead.” Y/n turned the stroller holding a sleeping Mathéo and grabbed Ruby’s hand. “Fuck you.” She pushed past the man as she exited the shop.

As the mom had her back turned, Ruby stuck her tongue out again at the stranger.

“And then maman said a bad word and we left! But the phone flew so far and the man looked like he was going to cry!” Ruby said enthusiastically into the phone. Charles was still gone, but news spread of the incident in the shop. Most people were defending Y/n’s actions since the man was clearly harassing the family.

“Really? So maman almost made a grown man cry, that’s my wife!” Charles laughed. Before talking with Ruby on the phone, he had gotten the full story from his wife.

“That’s my maman!” Ruby yelled.

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

[melrosing]

What do you think of the Sansa bullied Arya take if you don’t mind me asking (just don’t answer if you don’t want to haha)

per my usual practice on Controversial Topics im putting this under a cut

At the real risk of that lot showing up in my notes again, I think this ‘Sansa bullies Arya’ pins their pre AGOT dynamic squarely on Sansa herself, rather than the way they are both being raised by the adults around them to behave towards one another. Sure, Sansa is mean to Arya sometimes during their childhood! We don’t have a lot of examples besides the oft-mentioned ‘horseface’ insults, but I think it’s fair to assume that more often than not, Sansa was looking down on Arya. Meanwhile, Arya herself feels inadequate and like she just can’t do anything right. She resents Sansa, but also worries that Sansa’s opinion of her may be true.

Fine. But where has Sansa’s opinion of Arya come from? Is it her cold black heart? Fucking no, it’s come from Septa Mordane, Catelyn, and whoever else surrounds them growing up. The men don’t seem to really give much of a shit how Arya acts because it’s not their business and she’s just a kid anyhow, but the women pointedly give many shits. In our first scene with Arya, Septa Mordane scolds her for not being good at ‘women’s work’, and there’s plenty to suggest that this is just another day in the life for Arya. Meanwhile, Sansa gets the carrot for excelling. Both Arya and Sansa are learning their own worth in this chapter, and the worth of one another. Sansa internalises the praise whilst learning that Arya is bad, and everything she mustn’t be. Arya internalises the criticisms whilst learning that Sansa is good, and everything she can never be.

They’ll be getting this from Catelyn as well. Catelyn clearly adores both her daughters, and will move heaven and earth to get them back in ACOK. But one good adjective for Catelyn is ‘dutiful’ - it’s in her house words, and it’s how she’s lived her life up to AGOT. Doing as she’s told, even when it pains her. She expects the same of her daughters, and finds those expectations satisfied in Sansa’s case, and apparently flouted in Arya’s. So again, from their own mother, Sansa internalises that Arya is bad, and that she, Sansa, is good. Arya internalises the same. If societal standards were reversed, perhaps it would be Arya lording over Sansa, but such as it is, it’s Sansa over Arya. 

Now, Sansa is a child. When children are told over and over that X is good and Y is bad, they generally don’t question it, at least until they're older and more experienced in the world. They will also parrot what they hear, often in graceless ways. Because they’re children. Sansa is told that Arya wilfully misbehaves because she’s bad, and so Sansa thinks: then I should look down on Arya. It sounds like Sansa mostly keeps her distance from her sister pre AGOT. Not always - they play together sometimes - but a lot of the time. She has internalised the teaching that Arya is an aberration, and as she herself knows the adults value obedience in girls, and she wants to please them so badly, the distance between her and Arya demonstrates to them just how good she is - she won’t descend to Arya’s behaviour. 

When Sansa does interact with Arya (pre Darry), we see her being a bit bossy - telling Arya what to do, etc. Sansa is replicating what she has seen the adults do with Arya, and is mimicking them to assert her own position as the good, obedient child. If Arya ever doesn’t want to do something, it can only be because she’s bad. 

[sidenote, it all really reminds me of these short stories me and my sister used to get read a lot as kids, called My Naughty Little Sister (lmao) by Dorothy Edwards. They're pretty old and I don’t think they ever got major circulation outside Britain, but for anyone unfamiliar, you can probably guess how these stories go. There’s an elder sister, good and obedient, who narrates short tales of her ‘naughty little sister’ doing terrible things like idk, making a terrible mess etc, and going ‘now I’m sure you [the child audience] wouldn’t do a thing like that!’ They’re supposed to be short morality tales for the children, and amuse the parent reading them aloud, who recognises the mischievous behaviour of the younger and is charmed by the haughtiness of the elder sister, who you can hear is narrating the incidents of her sister’s mischief with the disdain that she’s heard the adults do so, and is asserting her own good behaviour over said sister. And the whole fucking reason we were read these stories was because my younger sister was precisely the kind of kid who got up to all kinds of shit as a little kid (which now all of us find hilarious but DIDN’T AT THE TIME), and I was the elder sister like ‘my goodness how could she do such things as these!!’ (e.g. paint an entire bookcase with grout). It amused us both to see ourselves in the stories. You could say this was life imitating art, but I think this is simply an age old dynamic, familiar to many people with siblings: you would see how the adults spoke to another child in your family, and replicate their manner in an effort to come across as an adult. Except you weren’t an adult, so you weren’t always as graceful about it as they were. That is pre AGOT Sansa, to a T. And I’m sure that’s what GRRM, a child of three who had two sisters of his own, is replicating here.]

But I think there’s also a loneliness in being the ‘obedient child’. Doing as you’re told all the time can be boring, and living up to expectations is a lot of pressure. Sansa wants a companion in all that, but Arya has no interest in sharing in it. Arya is offering friendship, but from a place Sansa believes she can’t reach her sister - Sansa thinks she’d have to ‘descend to Arya’s level’ to accept it, and she can’t do that. You get a sense of Sansa thrilling in trying Arya’s ‘misbehaviours’ for herself when she quietly delights in behaving ‘as wicked as Arya’, but you see in this that she has to condemn such behaviours and herself for exhibiting them, all in the same breath. And in the end, I can easily imagine Sansa resents that Arya has more fun with their brothers than she ever does with Sansa herself: that the one sister she has is one she has nothing in common with. Sansa can’t find a like mind amongst her siblings, and so clings to Jeyne Poole, and the praise of the adults around her.

So with all that in mind, YES! Sansa is sometimes mean to Arya, and calls her horseface. That is because Sansa is a child, nobody is correcting her behaviour, and she understands that Arya is bad, and the way she behaves is frustrating to Sansa herself, so really what does it matter if she’s a little mean sometimes? She knows that she is good, because everyone says so. Even if she calls her sister a name now and then, she’s still the good child. 

AND THEN we get to Darry. And Sansa starts to see that society isn’t a song, and sometimes it doesn’t matter how good you are, horrible things can happen to you anyway. But she doesn’t want to believe that, because it would turn her world upside down, and her future would look a lot darker, too - Ned has not ended her engagement to Joffrey, and Sansa has to live for the foreseeable in KL. So when Arya doing the thing she ‘wasn’t supposed to’ (playing with Mycah) snowballs into a terrible miscarriage of justice where Sansa’s wolf is killed, Sansa rejects the notion that the songs could be wrong about beautiful princes, and shifts the blame onto Arya for that original 'misdemeanour'. The grief at losing Lady is terrible too (the wolves are meant to have a soul deep bond with the Stark children), and so the target of that grief likewise becomes Arya. What was previously a normal, childishly complicated sibling relationship gets twisted into something else.

This is where I think Sansa becomes different level of unpleasant towards her sister. She’s cruel about Arya’s loss of Mycah, tells Arya she wishes she were dead instead of Lady, etc etc. Arya is not giving as good as she gets here - she even tries to make amends with Sansa, but Sansa throws the offer in her face.

The reasons for Sansa’s behaviour are complicated, but not that complicated. She’s been raised to slot perfectly into this world, without ever being told what that world is really like. And when abruptly it turns out that what she’s being raised for is essentially the slaughter, she rejects it. She can’t see Joffrey as he truly is: she’s been told that princes are charming, that Kings are just, Queens are kind, and she herself will be a Queen. Sansa is going to be handed over to the Lannisters, and she’s going to live the song of her dreams, and the only thing between Sansa and the realisation of those is the thing that’s always been wrong: Bad Arya. Because again, if Arya isn't bad, then everything else is, and Sansa is in terrible danger.

No one is sitting Sansa down and explaining to her that Arya is not bad, just different from her, and that they should love one another - that there are dark forces here far stronger than them that could tear them apart, that the Lannisters are the greatest of them, and they have to fight together, not each other. Arya gets this talk, funnily enough, but not Sansa. Arya is asked to understand that Sansa is different from her, but Sansa is only ever taught to abhor that her sister as different from her. Where Arya is told to be wary of the court of King’s Landing, Ned leaves Sansa to continue her fantasies, and then, when he abruptly tries to put an end to them, he doesn’t bother to explain why. I’m not saying this is unforgivable on Ned’s part - he has a lot on his mind lol - but it’s quite obviously a major failing. Ned leaves Sansa in a fantasy world. It’s fucking Joffrey who has to step in and clarify for Sansa that actually, she’s been dreaming.

So as long as they’re together, Sansa is never able to come to terms with the fact that Arya was not the aberration, but rather, everything else was. In the absence of one another, they cannot reconcile over that fact. So yes, GRRM says they’ll have deep issues to sort through when they meet again, but those aren’t going to be the times that Sansa called her ‘horseface’ - they’re going to be about what happened since they left Winterfell, when their relationship was twisted by forces much darker than Septa Mordane. 

So no, I think the ‘Sansa is a bully’ diatribes are seriously tedious, because even if you want to insist that calling your sister ‘horseface’ a few times even qualifies, you can still accept such wrongs without deciding that that makes Sansa a fundamentally unkind person who cannot be reconciled with Arya and doesn’t deserve to be. It is on the page that the two of them miss each other. Like I genuinely cannot imagine going through everything Arya does in the story and then, upon reuniting with a sister I thought lost forever, deciding I’m actually still mad about the things she got wrong as a child that she herself has paid dearly for, both physically and emotionally. Like jesus fucking christ man. By all means let them talk about it!! But who do you think Arya is lmao

Tl;dr: Sansa is a kid in a society. She is not the arbiter of Arya’s place in society. She is not mean because she’s cruel, but because she has internalised the exact same things that Arya has, based on the example of the adults surrounding them. It just happens that those things were a carrot for Sansa and a stick for Arya. But then in the end, they weren’t a carrot for Sansa either.

tl;dr 2: clarifying once again - i am a jaime stan. i find the stark sister relationship interesting bc I have experience of a similar sisterly dynamic and find it interesting to see a version of that explored on the page. so if you think one has to be a sansa stan to observe all this then that kind of just demonstrates how dichotomous you've become on this issue lol like if I'm talking about takes I dislike re JB I don't generally feel the need to attribute them to JC fandom. let's all grow up x

tl;dr 3: no i don't hate sansa or arya, since i know these are both conclusions various people reach whenever i even mention these two. in fact i think they are both great girls! imagine

[epiemy]

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader from our reality! Pt. 2

Warnings: just cursing (you’re a crazy bitch and Jason too)

Part 2 of 5 - Part 1

A/N: I missed this app so fucking much but I’m back :) hope you like this part of a series project.

Sorry for Grammar mistakes, enjoy!

"Oh boy, we are going to have a big job with this one." Words from a tired Jason.

“Hey, I’m still here, you know that?” You speak in disbelief. It still felt like a dream, where else would you get to see your favorite characters? You had never been able to shift before, so you faithfully doubted that was the case.

Jason just rolls his eyes saying “Unfortunately I noticed, you won't shut up for a single second” - and there goes your sympathy with him.

“Why are pretty people always jerks? - You're an exception Dick, shush” You say but stop as soon as you see Batman's cloak coming towards you, no longer able to control it, you end up smiling more than you've ever seen in your life, after all he was her childhood hero “My gods, Bruce Wayne? Batman? I could pass out!”

“Jason, no!” Dick speaks in warning before the youngest even opens his mouth, but even so he lets out a sneer and says:

“I could make YOU pass out” Jay mutters and you give him the middle finger “You already did that, idiot”, turning your attention to Bruce.

“Why is there a teenager in the cave, who apparently knows our secret identities? I'm only going to ask once” Batman speaks monotone and looks at the boys with his arms crossed and his mask removed.

“Ehm… well… funny story” Tim starts to say while scratching his head lightly, but Jason rolls his eyes.

“I brought her here, I heard some druggies talking about a girl falling from the sky and I went to check it out. I don't know how a demon can fall from the sky but there she is” He speaks ironically and you just stick out your tongue, murmuring that the only demon in this house was him. The boy continues “When I got close to her, she was cursing more than a sailor and had a fangirl attack shouting “Jaaaaason”, I erased her and brought her here. History end"

Bruce raises an eyebrow at Jason and sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. He honestly needed a break from all this, he couldn't take it anymore. “Currently, Barry informed us that there was a rupture of some barrier between universes caused by some meta, it turns out that she was brought from another reality and that is possibly why she knows our identities. Am I correct, miss..?”

“Y/n, and yes you are right. Finally someone with neurons- no offense Timmy” You mutter and the boy just shrugs, then continues talking “If the kid idiots had listened to me instead of fainting, I would have told them that in my reality you are all characters from a brand , so I theoretically know everything about each of you.” There was a silent pause “That seemed kind of scary, my bad.”

Minutes later, Bruce releases you from the place where you were tied up “As long as we don't know what happened, you are welcome to stay in the mansion, Alfred is already aware of this conversation and will prepare a room for you” He speaks calmly, you he just nods with a small smile in gratitude. He turns to his children “You. I want everyone in the mansion during this time, apparently you don't have an alternative version of her in this universe and she will have to stay here for some time, so we need to train her” He says leaving the Batcave.

“Soooo… Dick, can you and your nice ass show me my new room?” You say with a wide smile and you only hear Jason snort in the corner “What’s up, red bird? Do you want to show me instead of Richard? Come on come on, take me then” A hand sign is made by you, as you walk towards some stairs where Bruce had gone but Jason grabs your waist, changing the direction to the left “Oopsie, thanks kitty” You hear the laughter behind you.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Jason says, walking up the correct floors with you.

[m4gp13]

Okay time to talk about Al's hero complex and Ethan's martyr complex more in-depth because I love it so much <3

Al's hero complex is pretty obvious. He thinks he's Katniss Everdeen fighting a valiant battle against the Capitol because no one told him he's not the main character. He sees himself and those who agree with him as the Heroes (tm) while any who oppose them are the Villains of Unrivalled Evil because obviously his people wouldn't be fighting them if they were anything less. Al definitely has the overwhelming optimistic approach of a heroic paragon who believes it's impossible for him to fail because he's the good guy and good guys always win (Ladies, Gentlemen and Assorted Genders I would now like to direct your attention to "heroes never die, right?"). Which is how he ended up getting the remainder of his army massacred because he wouldn't accept defeat and pushed them on for a last-ditch attempt at victory. He's willing to sacrifice his people for the greater good, and in this way he and Percy are like the inverse of "Villains will sacrifice the world to save their loved ones, heroes will sacrifice their loved ones to save the world."

Al was the most powerful child of Hecate and as such was chosen to lead the rest of her children into battle. For such a young guy, this probably gave him a sense of grandeur, importance and self-respect which translates well into him seeing himself as the hero of his story. He had Luke and his propaganda to look up to, Mt Othrys to run things from and the Princess Andromeda to help things along, as well as a swarm of younger demigods who saw him as a hero. Now I'm not saying it all got to his head but that is pretty much what I'm saying. There's also Hecate, who is a pretty loving mother all things considered and was helping and supporting Alabaster and her children all the way through the war. With her encouragement exacerbating Al's self-righteousness instead of giving him a reality check, his hero complex could only grow until it made the Al we see in Son of Magic. He has lost everything and has never been in a worse place but he is still so sure of himself and his own moral superiority.

Ethan's martyr complex is a little more subtle but it's there if you're looking. My guy sacrificed his eye to his mother and was A-Okay with the arrangement. He was asked, from a very young age, to go through a lot of short-term physical pain with the result of a long-term disability in order to make a change in the world, which he agreed to. So he already doesn't think too highly of himself which is a great start! His mother uses him as a vehicle for her goals and he is aware of this and consenting to it. He has already relegated his own life as a tool for someone else. And then there's the arena battle in the labyrinth where he was very quick to offer Percy his own head on a platter. He was thinking very pragmatically at the time. He didn't seem to care much about "holy shit I'm going to die" and was instead just thinking "If he kills me then I die but if he spares me then we'll both die 2-1=1 so if we go with the first option then that will be one less death" HE DOESN'T GIVE A FUCK. His own life is something he can step back from, view in the context of the bigger picture and figure out how detrimental the loss of it would be to everything else going on around him. And then to further prove my point the last thing he ever does in the series is actually martyr himself to stop Kronos from ruining his mother's plans. Way to make it easier for me buddy.

As for how he ended up like this, his mother is fucking Nemesis. A hero complex and a martyr complex run antiparallel to each other with the key difference being that a hero will do whatever it takes to succeed while a martyr is all too happy to throw their life away for The Cause. In the eyes of a young child desperate to please his mother who is known for harshly punishing the prideful and arrogant of the world, being a hero who desires personal success and glory would be far too egotistical, and in order to be a hero his mother would approve of, he must be entirely selfless about it. She would despise anything else.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

So when in was in 4th grade, 9-10 years old, I had a friend named Mike. Mike was the same age as me, as all my friends were back then because that's just how school friends worked pre-internet, and he was the single biggest bullshit artist I've ever met, even into my adulthood. Like, this kid would blatantly lie right to your face and do it with zero shame and absolutely awe inspiring confidence. Years before anyone used the term "gaslight" Mike was six city blocks of gas lamps. He once told me a detailed account of how some girl that rode the bus with us was his secret step sister and every day when he got home from school she was waiting for him, naked, to be his maid/sex slave. This girl got off the bus after him. Looking back, I'm pretty sure he didn't even know what sex was. (and it's fucking weird that a 10 year old kid was making up sex slave stories to share with another 10 year old kid so I wonder to this day what the fuck was going on with that family, but that's not the point of this. Still wtf?) That's the kind of bullshit that would come out of his mouth on a daily basis.

So, one day me and Mike were playing Connect 4. Everyone knows Connect 4. At the time, I did not know Connect 4. Mike offered to teach me how to play. Mike was also, as you can probably imagine, the sorest loser imaginable. I can only assume he thought he would beat me handedly seeing as I'd never played the game before. But, as it just so happened to turn out, Connect 4 is pretty easy to play. You try to connect 4 of your colors. That's. You know, that's it. And I'm not bragging when I say I picked it up pretty quickly, despite being more interested in the part after the game is over where you slide the little bar at the bottom and all the pieces come crashing down. I still think that's the most fun part of the game, tbh. Anyway, Mike did not like that I was winning. So after a game or two, when I got Connect 4, he suddenly stopped the game. I'd come afoul of a rule I didn't know. Apparently, I couldn't make a move to connect 4 right then. He couldn't really explain why, but he said a lot of words and assured me that I'd just made an illegal move, all the while he was taking my piece out of the game. Just, sliding it up the row I'd dropped it in while spinning line after line of pure bullshit. And this moment is what comes to mind every single time someone trots out the "prejudice plus power" BS "definition" of racism. I'm reminded of a very weird, most probably very disturbed, 10 year old gaslighting shithead desperately trying to convince me I couldn't make a totally legal move just because making that move would mean he lost the game. That's what every person, kid or adult, layman or academic, politician or pundit, sounds like when they try to explain how racism is only racism sometimes. Usually right after they say something insanely racist.

Children change the rules when they can't win within them. That so many adults carry this behavior well into their adult years is a sad sign of how far the intellectual capacity of adults has failed. And that any institution actually listens to these ridiculous rule shifts and takes them seriously is a sad sign of how far western society has fallen. Where once we perfected the debate, we're now no different from a lying ten year old kid who can't handle losing a board game.

[chaifootsteps]

Hey so uh, student studying psychology, I agree.

Personal story that will end up relating to Viv, I promise. (Please do not take this as a diagnosis either, but I also noticed Viv and my ex share troubling personality traits)

Not APA, but I had an ex who I'm pretty sure has NPD (He is also autistic, and I am as well). We got along so well, probably because we were both autistic. It was a long-distance relationship we had for 4 years.

I had a very troubled childhood growing up, and hardly had any friends in school. I never went to hang out with anyone, I always came straight home. I was extremely isolated for those 4 years because my caregiver was extremely abusive to me. My ex was all I had.

For 4 years, he promised me I was the only one he ever wanted. He told me what I wanted to hear, and became a completely different person to disguise who he really was underneath. Ironically, he "works" as a filmmaker/actor. Sometimes I knew it felt off, he'd pressure me into doing things I was uncomfortable with (only a year and half age difference so he wasn't an older guy grooming me (but he was still absolutely grooming me. I was also a minor at this time.)

He'd also lovebomb the shit out of me, as well as using a term called "future faking", where the person promises you a grand future and that everything is going to be wonderful and amazing. It's a tactic, like lovebombing, to keep the victim hooked for as long as possible. He promised me we'd get a shitty apartment together, that he'd "take me away" from the abuse I was suffering from for so long.

He promised me a family. Children. Marriage. Everything and anything I needed to hear to keep me in his power.

For his "movies" he would go to conventions and find D list actors to be in his stuff and he would, in private, go off about how he's got these "amazing actors" from xyz movie. He'd also gloat about the expensive equipment he'd gain access to. Like Viv at GlitchX, he would never shut the fuck up about his projects and ideas. He was extremely self centered. He loved taking photos with them with smug looks on his face too. He also literally took a picture of himself kissing himself, with a mirror filter, and showed me in private. I brushed it off but always thought it was weird. I wish I was joking.

He would also lose his ever loving shit if you critiqued him. He would actually cry and throw childish tantrums. And not even his stuff, if you said ANYTHING negative about his interests, he would take it as a personal attack. Not even that, if you just gave a "meh" reaction to something he'd show you, he'd also get super passive aggressive and pissed.

I think part of that is the autism (I struggle with people not liking things I like too. I get bummed out and sometimes pissed, but never to the degree that he did.) but it was always uncomfortable for me. But I always championed his movies. I never once said a negative thing about them. Not in private or to him.

Fast forward to me finding out he cheated on me, and continued to cheat on me with 5+ people over the entire course of our relationship. I read horrific messages between him and those people, where he called me a "bitch" and would actively plan out "how to get me back" whenever I tried leaving him (because again, I had weird feeling about him but he always managed to pull me back in).

And I'm not going to lie, I was shitty towards him. I took my anger out on him from the abuse I suffered because he was the only person in my life.

I regret that to this day. I never should've yelled at him or treated him badly when he was (at least to me) genuinely trying to make me happy.

All he cared about was himself and getting his dick wet. He still tries to tell me (if he can get his messages through) that he always loved me, and he just made mistakes as a "stupid kid."

It took a long time to get away from him and see that he was extremely unhealthy. He also has very dangerous gross fetishes, that I even didn't know about when we dated.

So yeah... they both are very similar for sure. Paperskin egos, takes criticism as a direct attack, self-centered, collecting people, hiding their true personalities, using people to climb the ranks to meeting celebs and using them in their work, lovebombing their victims...

Again, this doesn't confirm either one has NPD, but Viv reminds me a lot of my ex. And it's not good at all.

And this is MY experience. In no way shape or form am I demonizing anyone else who has this disorder.

And if you've experienced these things from someone, I am so sorry. I hope you can get the help you need.

Thank you for your story, Anon. I'm so sorry that happened to you.

Not going to say anything, just going to leave this here so people can draw their own conclusions.

[deadeyedaisy]

Tales of Destiny ~PROUST~ Forgotten Chronicle rough summary

I wasn't sure where else to post this, and Tumblr seemed like the one that would get the most use out of it.

So, I streamed my blind run through TODDC with Kio for the past several months. I ended up getting really into TOD from how much cleaner the presentation of the story and characters were over the PSX version, and was really frustrated that nobody had translated the drama CD, which had been hiding like 95% of Leon's characterization until the remake came along.

I kept a notepad of stuff to talk about during those streams. Sometimes it was off-topic things, sometimes it was little tangents about parts of the game that I thought of over the week until we'd play again. Sometimes it was summaries of supplemental material that was never localized. But most of the time, that material was translated by a fan.

Nobody has fully translated Proust. I wanted it to be translated. So I listened to it as hard as I could and summarized as best I could. The following are the unedited notes as I wrote them to be read during stream, rather than a direct translation or anything formal. I'm not good enough at Japanese to fully translate it. I'm so not good at Japanese that there's probably a lot of errors throughout this summary, too. I hope someone eventually comes along and gives us a full translation.

Also note that I'm not great at recognizing the voices of anyone that isn't the main cast of protagonists, so I probably mix up the antagonists or the generals' identities a lot.

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

So I went back through the drama cd, and I think I've got a few more little details. I could be wrong about a lot of this since there's no translation and I am really fucking bad at Japanese. But this should actually clear up a lot of misconceptions that we, or I had throughout this entire game. Foolish me for just believing everything TVTropes told me instead of trying to comb the drama cd myself.

(track 1-01 Thunder + track 1-03 Lullaby) Chris tried to escape with both children, but Hugo sent the goon squad after her?? and they managed to take Leon and mortally wound Chris. She drags herself back to the mansion to see Leon again and asks him not to hate Hugo, because this certainly isn't the same kind person she married. [I previously summarized it based on this post, which does a much better job of summarizing track 1-03: https://jeredu.tumblr.com/post/136918641610/so-after-the-horrible-sad-feels-from-the-emilio]

(track 1-02 History That Was Forgotten is just Leon saying the title of the CD)

(track 1-04 Yes, My Lady) Less than 2 years before the game starts. The girls in Leon's class aren't very good at dance lessons yet, so he complains to Marian that all the girls are stupid-- oh but not you Marian, it's only other girls that are dumb. lol I can't catch why Leon's mad at Hugo this time, but Marian sticks up for Hugo, since he's the one who pretty much discovered how useful Lens could be to further technology and make modern life easier, and has for the most part made it all affordable. She's also grateful that he hired her when she had nothing. Marian wants Leon to make friends with the girls because she's worried he'll be all alone. Leon says he's fine alone and that he'll only grow stronger, and to distract Marian, decides to teach her the dance he learned, calling her "my lady". At the end, he says he'll be fine as long as he has Marian. Hugo walks in on them and Leon quickly makes an excuse but Hugo just puts him down for hanging with the staff and tells him to get to sword practice. Leon seems excited for it. Leon whispers to Marian that they'll practice dancing again. Marian says she's looking forward to it, but when he leaves, she sadly mumbles that he's a pitiful child. (Not in a mean way)

(track 1-05 True) [Oops I didn't cover this one. It's just villainy anyway. Who listens to Proust to hear Mictlan-Hugo monologue?]

(track 1-06 Man of the Mask) I forgot about this detail and its MASSIVE importance. In the original, Leon and Hugo's relation wasn't known for a long time. In the remake, their relation is paraded around loudly. Hugo will not let anyone forget that Leon is his son, and Leon's motivation is to not be a nepo baby. But in the original, specifically in the drama CD, Hugo doesn't want their relation known. He doesn't want Leon around while he's doing business because it might reveal their relation. He reprimands him for coming home while he's doing business and tells him not to come home so often. Leon was actually excited to let him know of one of his missions' successes, on his 15th birthday no less. Chaltier tries to comfort Leon when he's basically told to gtfo, but Leon tells him he's not sad at all, and that he just wants to be acknowledged by someone as skilled as Hugo. His cadence is fairly fond as he says all this, but he's awfully insistent about it. Like thou-doth-protest-too-much insistent. Leon thinks he saw a masked man, but Chaltier says he doesn't sense anyone. They go on their way, but a filtered voice of Hugo calls Leon's name.

(track 1-07 Emilio) The following track makes it more clear that yes, he was actually very fucking upset about it. I already talked about this track since it was one of the only 2 tracks that were fully translated by someone else. Where Marian has a little private birthday party for him and he breaks down. With the added context of the previous track, the breakdown makes a bit more sense. He's just been told and brushed off again by Hugo even after so many smashing successes. Took it upon himself to put up a strong front in front of Chaltier. Then Marian does this gesture of kindness that I guess makes him feel like he's being treated like a child or mocked, and that's the last straw. Marian is of course calling him Emilio, and he refuses that name because Emilio is worthless, nobody needs Emilio, and he's all alone. He insists he's Leon Magnus, because he's at least useful as a tool for Hugo. Marian doesn't like him calling himself a tool. Says he's her precious Emilio. And Leon cries. [Previously summarized based on this post, which actually has a full translation!: https://jeredu.tumblr.com/post/136880537875/jeredu-spoilers-for-tales-of-destiny-for]

(track 1-08 Family) Next track takes place a year later and has Leon being the wunderkind beating everybody and being taken under Finley's wing. They've all got praise for him but are a little put off by him being so uptight. Late at night, Leon sneaks into Marian's room through her window because of the lecture he got about COMING HOME TOO OFTEN jfc. He's excited to tell Marian about officially working with the knights, and asks to dance with her. I think I skipped a bit. Leon only started trying to become a knight because Hugo told him to, so that he'd have a pawn within the castle to help further Oberon's goals. I think he moved out of the mansion after the last track to dedicate himself more fully to cementing his position there?? I'm probably wrong. But he's been a lot happier this way. Later that night, Chaltier tries to suggest that Leon just continues living like this and become a full fledged and honest knight instead of working for Hugo, because all of the generals seem to like him and are nice people. Buuuut Leon's already fallen asleep. Boo

(track 1-09 Nightmare) Next track has Leon and Finley talking and they think Greybaum's sus. They meet with Greybaum and Chal also thinks he's sus. That night, Leon has a nightmare where a man is telling him he can save Rutee. Except Leon doesn't know who Rutee is yet, or her name. The man is wearing a mask like the one from the mansion. It seems to be the real Hugo. He attacks Leon when he knocks his mask off I think?? and I guess Leon wakes up and is back at the mansion temporarily? I have no idea what's going on here but Hugo's not doing great and Leon rushes to his aid but Hugo basically tells him to gtfo his house again. I think real Hugo is fighting Mictlan, because Leon says something about Berserius. Belserius. Berselius. Fuck it. Scene change and Leon's at a tavern or something. The waitress fawns a bit, showing his good reputation has spread. Leon thinks about the nightmare and what the heck a Rutee is. Then he overhears some guy talking about a demonic lens hunter dude and the waitress is like oh nah you mean that girl Rutee? and Leon all but trips over himself to go aggressively interrogate the waitress. The guy she was talking to gets mad and tries to attack Leon and a fight starts. Finley shows up and slaps Leon and reprimands him and I think threatens him?? But Leon got the information he wanted out of the waitress.

(track 2-01 Masquerade) Next track. The villains talk stealing the Eye of Atamoni. A masquerade ball is held in Seinegald. Leon's all ready to be big bad security but Finley says he should blend in and dance. But he ain't got no fancy clothes! So Finley arranges to get him some fancy clothes. He's about to arrange for a partner too but Leon's like nah I got a girl for this and yoinks Marian up. She's worried she's not allowed to attend such a party, but Leon assures her she's part of the mission so it's fine. She tries to make excuses to not go but he shoots them all down. He sounds like he's having just oodles of fun on the carriage ride with her to the ball. He's laughing and smiling and it's just great. This moment is probably literally the happiest Leon will ever be in his entire life lol He… sneaks her in through the BACK DOOR and gets stopped by guards who ask who dis. And he says, "my partner" and they say they can't let randos in and he says NO SHE'S MY PARTNER and they say :/ that's not good enough bro, come on, and Marian takes his arm all suggestive like and says "What part of partner don't you understand ;)" and they let them in??? okay But Marian hasn't received her dress yet, so Leon's waiting for her to get dressed. And Chal teases him a bunch implying Leon's nervous to see her in her fancy dress. Leon tells him to shut up but Chal notes he's blushing really hard. But, Leon suddenly sees the masked man again, and this time Chal sees him too. Leon attacks but he disappears. He hears the voice and he's big mad 'cause he thinks he's being jerked around so he shouts a lot. Marian hears him shouting and rushes to him and real-Hugo goes whoops sorry about that I guess lmao and goes away. The ball gets into full swing and allll the girls are wowed by how pretty Leon's partner is. Marian says she feels awkward and Leon tells her she's beautiful, but she still doesn't think she should have come. He asks her to dance, she tries to make excuses not to, but he keeps asking, calling her "Lady" again like when they danced alone ;A; aaaa So they dance, and Leon is just so entranced and whispers that he wants to go far far away together to a place with only them, that's quiet and warm. He says something like he lost such a promised place inside of him a long time ago, but feels that it's also right there with her, and he's about to say something that MIGHT have been a confession, but they're interrupted by an attack and are separated. SO YEAH I'D SAY HIS FEELINGS FOR HER ARE PRETTY ROMANTIC. HOLY SHIT. I felt like I was listening to one of those listener-POV CDs where they do nothing but sweet-talk you, gosh. Whether his feelings are actually romantic or not, he's still just entirely fucking smitten with her. oh my god.

(track 2-02 Venomous Snake) Next track, I have no idea what's going on because I'm not familiar enough with all the villains' voices, but it's villain stuff. I think it's Greybaum mostly, and they're messing with King Isaac, the Phandaria King. And Greybaum is evil monologuing but Leon was hiding in the room and ambushes him. Hugo shows up before Leon can do any damage and something happens or is talked about, idk, villains get away. Leon's like what the fuck, dad, they tried to kill the king. Hugo says Isaac's spent too long in office and ain't doin his job right no more. So it's fiiine just let it go, besides, Graybaum's gonna be a useful tool. And the word "tool" sets Leon off 'cause it's always about tools with Hugo, and Hugo goes YEAH, A TOOL, A TOOL JUST LIKE YOU. I'VE BUILT HIM UP AND I'M TAKING ADVANTAGE OF HIM, JUST LIKE I DID TO YOUUUU. And he demands Leon apologize but Leon says no, he's done being Hugo's puppet, he's going to live for himself, he's not going to accept this shitty fate anymore, he's going to carve his own path and make a place for himself in Seinegald. And Hugo goes "Ohoho what silly thoughts Finley's put in your head. Sure, you could do all that, you could escape me no problem, you're good enough for it, but I wonder how Marian is doing~ Sure hope she's okay after getting separated from you. It's just such a scary world out there, you never know when or where such a fragile little thing like her could get got." So basically the ongoing threat on Marian's life has begun. It's not explicitly stated, but obviously the implication is that Leon could leave and take Marian with him, but Hugo will get to her one way or another. Then it's just 20 full seconds of Leon desperately calling and looking for Marian.

(track 2-03 Requiem) Next track, he finds Marian and clings to her and sobs in relief that she's okay. She says yeah it's okay I'm fine, but Leon just cries harder. Later after he's calmed down, he brings up that far away warm place he spoke about. He wonders where that could even be anymore. Probably somewhere further than the moon. He wonders if he can go there. Then it's very suddenly Finley's funeral. People are crying. The priest is praying. People are swearing vengeance. Hugo, Chaltier, and Finley's voice echo in Leon's head. Hugo coercing Leon into poisoning Finley. Chaltier asking him not to do it. Finley telling Leon they're alike in that they both lost their parents at birth. That he'd like for Leon to think of him as his father, because he thinks of Leon as his son, I think. Hugo reminding him where his place is, and that that's never going to change. Finley succumbing to the poison, in disbelief that it was Leon, and desperately asking why. Leon's sure he's never going to get to that place. Hugo and friends do some villain talk and make some snide remarks at Leon, and he just says it's fine. He's defeated at this point.

(track 2-04 Rutee) Next track has Leon on his way to Cresta to look for whoever Rutee is. Chaltier recognizes the name a little but doesn't remember. Rutee runs into him and runs away, but Chaltier recognizes Atwight on her back right away and they give chase. Rutee's giving gifts to the kids at the orphanage, is asked how she made the money for this and she's like "eehh I worked really hard :D" Chal finally remembers Rutee was the name Chris spoke of before she died and he's super excited that Leon's not all alone, that he still has his sister. But Leon just runs away. Chal's like what the fuck, where are you going, and Leon says it's been 15 years, so it doesn't matter, they're not family. Chal keeps trying to get him to go back to Rutee, insisting she must have been looking for her family for a long time, and that he should reach out to her. Leon admits that he's scared that Rutee won't accept him. Chal tells him that's stupid. Leon admits he's scared of Rutee also betraying him like Hugo did, and cries that he's truly all alone. The track ends.

(track 2-05 Flow of Fate) Next track, it's revealed Greybaum's theft of the Eye of Atamoni was actually not in the plan. He did that on his own and betrayed them. They plan for Leon to lead the investigation and gather the swordian users. Leon asks if Hugo knows who wields Atwight, and Hugo, like a fox, says mmmyessss. During Leon's first real meeting with Rutee, while she goes off on him, he's thinking to himself that he wishes he met her sooner, but he's too dirtied to face her for real by now. Chaltier insists to him that it's not too late, but Leon refuses. A bunch of scenes of Leon traveling with Stahn's group pass. Leon thinks about how Rutee has good friends and a home and family to return to, and feels even worse that he can't be happy for her. He hates himself for it, but he can't help it. Chaltier tells him he could become a part of her family. Leon says it'd be nice, since he's being shown such a warm place, but he can't escape his fate. More scenes pass, and Leon is moved by Stahn's resolve. He thinks maybe he was wrong about fate, because everyone is fighting. More scenes pass, and Leon is even moved by Batista and Greybaum, because they went against Hugo. Even if they couldn't win against their fates, they still tried. He's confused and doesn't know what to do, but Chaltier doesn't have answers for him. The only thing he knows he can do is protect Marian. The only reason he has to keep living is Marian.

It continues in the mines. Hugo and friends say they need to buy time to escape Stahn's group. He tells Leon to stall them as long as possible, and then detonate an explosive. Tells him exactly what will happen, down to the sea water flooding in. So Leon absolutely knows he's going to die if he agrees to do this. Leon asks to be alone with Marian, as his first and final request as Hugo's son. Marian observes that Leon doesn't want to go through with this. Leon says it's fine, he'll just do what he's told. He asks why Marian is here, why she's still a maid for Hugo. Marian answers it's because Hugo was trying to save the world, or whatever. She owes him a lot. So she'll do whatever she's told, too. Leon asks what'll happen if he dies. Marian says she'll probably never stop crying. Leon asks how much, for how long, because it's not possible to cry for him for her whole life. Says she'll probably cry for a bit, but eventually she'll meet someone he doesn't know, fall in love, get married, and have children, and she'll forget all about him, and then he'll truly be gone and not exist anymore. He'll disappear. Leon cries, really hard. He pulls himself together, apologizes, says she should go. She goes, but she calls after him that it was fun. That being with him was like a dream. He says quietly to himself that, yeah, it was like a dream to him, too. (The wording is different from the opening song! Important to note because the remake did a full on title drop in its climax. The opening song is 「夢であるように」, but the wording here is 「夢みたい」. But it's still probably a 100% intentional reference to the opening song.) [I cut off here because I previously summarized these two posts about the end of this track, which is an exchange with Chaltier: https://jeredu.tumblr.com/post/136997902840/i-dunno-if-its-possible-to-fall-in-love-with-a https://jeredu.tumblr.com/post/137057162215/checked-with-a-friend-who-knows-more-japanese-and]

[I yada-yada'd track 2-06 Father, Friend because I already summarized it previously based on this post: https://jeredu.tumblr.com/post/143045097730/i-finally-typed-up-a-summary-of-father-friend]

(track 2-07 -Epilogue- Yes, My Lady) In the final track, Rutee is visiting Marian. She asks Marian to live with her. Marian declines, saying she has to keep Emilio's room clean for him for when he comes back. Rutee says he's already gone, but Marian interrupts and asks Rutee to dance. She teaches her how to dance. She calls Rutee "My lady" like Leon did with her.

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

May I just say, if Leon retained his character from the drama CD in the remake, he absolutely would have broken down crying after Stahn convinced him they could work together to save Marian. And maybe hugged him or held his outstretched hand with both of his. While crying. Drama CD Leon is a huge crybaby and I'm so here for him. I was disappointed he didn't get to cry through the remake.

And also that hot damn, Hikaru Midorikawa was allowed to emote SO MUCH MORE in the drama CD than in the entirety of the remake, not even counting all the crying he does.

[psychologeek]

Holocaust (and culture appropriation)

(TW: holocaust, death camps, sexual assaults, rape, industrial murder. I will put the graphic shit undercut. Include children death and human experiments).

Sometimes I think about how fucked up it is that for most non-jews (and some jews) "The Holocaust" is Anne Frank and Auschwitz "where they killed people".

I think about the fucking, the goddamn AUDACITY some people have to take our trauma and use it as a tool. As a lesson.

People that for them the holocaust is nothing but a story, a bunch of facts, probably as aware of it as they're aware of the crusaders.

(Once upon a time, in a far away land, there were Troubles)

People who didn't hear about it as children, who didn't grew up with six million and one-and-a-half million and yellow stars and quiet ceremony and Yizkor (remember).

That.

Would look at a pile of hats and bones and wigs and hair and make it about them.

But also

Sometimes I think about how wild it is, that this looks so horrific to them.

(And they never heard about half of it.)

Like.

Dear.

Deary.

We are used to death. We are so used to being murdered, and loosing loved ones by hate, that half of our culture is basically based on it.

I think about how non-jews keep talking about the holocaust, like it's a clean cut, like it's a thing that was, like it's that's all that was - there were people hiding, and there were gas chambers, and that's it.

And I remember being a kid (maybe 10 yo?) reading a kid/ya book that was an autobiography, and I remember the writer (who was a young teen at the time, and pretended to be a Christian German) wrote about someone came into the shower and touched him. (Writer) Panicked, and turned around - and then the other man asked him "wait- are you jewish?"

As a kid, I remember that this is all that was in it.

As an adult, I remember that scene, sometimes. And I can have a pretty clear idea on why the older man didn't tell about the kid.

I remember, several years ago, reading about a therapy group for holocaust survivors that were sexually assaulted.

I remember reading about an old lady, that (70 years later) told about what happened to her when she hide away with her sister, (I think they were two, or three girls?) she was sixteen, or maybe fourteen. I remember

"I did it so they'll share their food with us".

~

I think about people talking about the "death camp" Auschwitz, and how someone said (those who went there, were the lucky ones. When the newbies asked what happened, where are their families? We just pointed at the burning chimneys of Birkenau ,and the smoke.)

~

I remember the HUNDREDS who died once the camps were "freed", because they didn't know the dangers of eating two pieces of bread after a long period of starving.

I remember the massive Jewish community of Poland that was just. Erased. 99% of 3 million population pre-war. Whole communities we only remember and mention as the community's name (and even that is a very long list.)

I remember how people remember it as "German jews" (and some Poland) - but it's not. My grandma had cousins in Debretsen, Hungary. And it's Ukraine and France and Morocco and Greece and Lybia and Lithuania and Latvia and almost everywhere in Europe and North Africa

(except for Denmark. we love Denmark. My grandad's step-grandma survived there. She immigrated to her family in Israel after that.)

~

Idk if Goyim ever heard about Mangele. I wonder, how many of them heard during their childhood about:

The eye experiments, where he injected serums in people's (living) eyes, to see what would happen?

His obsession about twins. The toddlers that got their back skinned, then stitched together in "to see what will happen".

(They died after four days of misery.)

[the-cult-of-russo]

Such a Softer Sin (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: I’m not specifically tagging this one, if you’ve seen the show, nothing will shock you. Smut will happen eventually so minors DNI, thanks.

A/N: What’s this? Two chapters in one day? Yes, yes it is lmao I love you guys and I’m feeling generous. Maybe I’m also super excited to finally share this with you after working so hard on it. 

I forgot to mention in the last chapter, but this story will be 28 chapters long. It’s less than I first thought because I had to merge some shorter chapters together. 

—----

You lay there in the mud with no intention to move. It wasn't so much that you didn't want to, just your pride wouldn't let you. It hardly looked good for your rep that you just fell over a fucking tree root. So for now, you lay there looking up at the clouds, listening to the rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk from the knives Atticus was throwing into the tree. You were grateful he was the only one around to see you fall, but somehow you knew he’d still mention it. Your best friend was a bastard like that. After a moment, a large hand was suddenly in front of you. With a huff, you took it, letting Atticus yank you to your feet. You squinted slightly, not liking the thoroughly amused smirk on his face. You just knew what was coming. 

“I still don’t get how you manage it,” Atticus grinned slyly at you. You scowled, snatching the throwing knives off him. You swiftly threw them one after the other, hitting the target in the tree with ease. You'd been practicing with your knives since you were 12 years old, you were pretty good at it.

“Manage what?” you asked casually, pretending you had no clue what he was talking about. 

“When we’re on the battlefield, you're the most graceful of us all. You’ve got the nickname ‘The Dancer of Death’. Yet somehow, when we’re not in a perilous situation, you have the grace of a one legged cow,” he snorted. Your mouth gaped open as you glared at him and it only made him grin wider at you.

“A one legge- how dare you! Just because I fall over occasionally doesn't mean I’m not graceful,” you retorted with a petulant frown. 

“Y/N, you fell over your own feet three days ago and knocked yourself out when you banged your head on the table,” Atticus murmured with a smirk. Your cheeks flushed, your scowl not easing. 

“I didn't fall over my own feet. I slipped on the rug, there's a difference,” you muttered with a huff. 

“You still knocked yourself out. And let’s not forget last month when we had the meeting at the castle with the Council. You knocked over a lifesize statue of the fucking King and decapitated it,” Atticus snorted loudly. 

Your cheeks stayed hot and you couldn't argue. There were no lies. Last month at one of the meetings where the Council gave you a job, you somehow fell over, tumbling into the lifesize statue of King William. It was fancy and looked super old. You didn't know it was of the King at the time since the statue was of a man in complete armor, even his face and you didn’t even know what he looked like anyway. But after one of the Council Elders lectured you for an hour, you realized you’d just decapitated the King's likeness. After being told when the King finds out how he’ll chop your hands off, you made a hasty retreat back home. You had every desire to keep your fucking hands. 

“You act like you’re so much better. You think I didn't hear you fall up the stairs last night? I think you woke the whole house up,” you retorted with a smirk. Now it was his turn to huff as he folded his broad arms over his chest.

“Look, it's not my fault. My feet are big and the stairs are small. You do the math,” he replied with narrowed eyes. You were about to give him a witty retort when the loud booming voice of your Alpha traveled through the forest from the packhouse.

“Y/N! Atticus!” The pair of you looked at each other like children about to be told off.

“Oh shit, are we in trouble?” Atticus asked with a wary face.

“What did you do?” you asked him with an indignant scowl.

“Me? Why do you assume I’m the one who did something?” he asked, sounding offended. His voice rose a whole octave and you just leveled your gaze on him.

“Last week, you put muddy handprints on every single one of his shirts so it looked like he’d been molested where his non-existent breasts are,” you deadpanned. A beaming grin broke out on Atticus’ face and he had this far away look in his eyes like he was reliving it.

“Yeah… it was pretty good. He had no choice but to wear one until he got them cleaned,” he snorted. You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“He made you train naked for three whole days. Was it worth it?” you asked with a grin.

“Yes,” he answered with no hesitation. The boy was strange.

“I swear, if you’ve done something and try to blame me again for it, I’ll smother you in your sleep,” you muttered seriously as you both slowly started walking back through the forest.

“I never blame you,” he replied. You stopped dead and he stopped too, giving you this innocent smile.

“You blamed me for the shirts,” you argued. He shook his head and gave you a toothy grin.

“I did no such thing,” he replied sweetly.

“I’m sorry, what do you call ‘I have no idea. Y/N must have done it, I saw her playing in the mud before’?” you asked with a quirked brow. His grin only widened, not even bothering to defend himself.

“Don't be scared, I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you with my life,” Atticus said with a sweet smile. You found yourself smiling at him as you shook your head.

“As sweet as that sentiment is, Atti, I’m the Beta which means I’m a rank above you. Not only that but my wolf is slightly bigger than yours,” you snorted. He squinted at you, looking more than offended and you had to fight to keep your laugh from falling from your lips.

“How dare you! The size of a man's wolf is a sensitive issue! Besides, it's not about the size, it's how you use it that counts,” he replied petulantly. 

“That sounds an awful lot like something someone with a small wolf would say,” you mused teasingly. He glared harder at you but there was no real malice in his eyes. 

“Aww don't be mad,” you grinned, stepping closer to him. He looked off to the side and you pouted, fisting his shirt a little as you bat your lashes up at him, your eyes all shiny and glittering in the sunlight. He looked at you, you knew he was about to crack. He never lasted long. After a moment, his lips twitched up and you grinned, making him roll his eyes at you.

“I hate that I can't even stay mad at you. You're a real bitch, you know that?” he huffed.

“Yeah, you tell me that at least twelve times a day,” you snorted. He grinned, yanking a strand of your hair and making you kick him in the shin. Lightly. If you did it to purposely hurt him you’d have broken it.

“Guys! Now!” the booming voice was back. The pair of you exchanged glances before hurrying back to the packhouse. When you broke through the clearing, your somewhat small packhouse came into view. A few people were milling around outside and Kosmos, your Alpha was standing in the doorway waiting for you. To anyone else, he was a scary fuck. He was huge and nothing but a hunk of muscle, his long black hair reaching past his shoulders and his whole torso and arms covered in black ink. Despite how intimidating he looked, when you and Atticus laid eyes on him, you relaxed infinitely, seeing the lazy grin on his face. Atticus huffed a string of curse words under his breath and you grinned to yourself. Kosmos liked to do this to you. He was like your older brother despite not sharing any blood, but he often used his scary boss voice on you just to fuck with you and make you worry. He wasn't a bad guy though, he was surprisingly chill for an Alpha. Unless you crossed him, then you were fucked. 

Despite all the years that had passed, you could remember meeting him like it was yesterday. This pack wasn't like the others. The Nomad pack were a bunch of misfit wolves with nowhere else to go, but it hadn't always been like this. Once upon a time it had just been you, Atticus and Kosmos. You and Atti had grown up together in the same pack, and after a brutal rogue attack left your pack wiped out, you had been the only survivors. Atticus had saved your life that day. You had only been 8, putting Atticus at 9 but he was smart enough to cover you both in mud to mask your scents. You had been hysterical. You’d watched your parents get ripped to shreds in front of your very eyes and Atticus had to push down his own grief to take care of you. He’d hidden you in some bushes once your scents were masked and you had to hide there for a whole day until all the rogues were gone. Then the pair of you had nowhere to go and wandered the forest for days, hungry and scared. That was when you found a 15 year old Kosmos. He was the illegitimate child of an Alpha of a neighboring pack. After suffering years of abuse, he had fled. He’d been staying in a cave and after he’d seen the two small children covered in blood that wasn't their own and the haunted look in their eyes, he’d taken you in. At first, it had been the three of you. No Alpha, Beta or Gamma, just three wolves who considered each other family. But as the years went on, you took in more wolves like you and the others. Ones who had been abused or whose packs had been taken over, ones who needed a family. As the numbers grew, the need for hierarchy came into it and everyone voted the three originals into place. Kosmos as Alpha, you as Beta, and Atticus as Gamma. Your pack was still small compared to normal packs. Other packs had members in the hundreds, the Nomad pack was currently only at 21. Even with the hierarchy, Kosmos wasn't a typical Alpha. He protected the pack as was his job and he was the leader by default, but no matter what decisions had to be made, he always got everyone to vote instead of making the call himself. He didn't want it to be all about him. The opinion of his pack mattered. It worked well for you all since the pack was so small and things were running smoothly. The Nomad pack had built up its reputation and some other packs liked you, wanting to be on your side and have your help. Then of course were the packs that loathed you and who still classed you as rogues. Tarring you with the same brush as the vicious creatures who took your old pack away. You hated it. You weren't rogues and you never felt like you were. You were just lost wolves who needed a place and now you had one. 

As you walked past Kosmos inside the packhouse, which was more like an oversized wooden cabin in the woods, Kosmos clipped Atticus around the head playfully, making him scowl at him. Kosmos didn't have an office, there wasn't enough space. The meetings were always held at the dining table and people just knew to leave you to it. You walked over and sat down, Viron already sat there munching on a sandwich. Viron was a strange wolf. He was only 18 and he seemed so much younger sometimes with how he acted. He’d been through a lot in his life before landing himself here with the pack and he had a nervous disposition. His mother had died giving birth to him and as a result, his father had blamed him. He’d tried to drown the poor boy at birth and then the abuse started. Luckily, Viron’s older brother and your now lead warrior, Damon, took him out of there before it got any worse. The two had then spent a lot of time as rogues trying to get by before they found the Nomad pack. When you sat down, he shot you a bright smile and you smiled back. While others usually made themselves scarce when you were having a ‘meeting’, you didn’t mind if anyone was around as there were no secrets in the pack. 

“Right, the Council have moved their meeting with us up to tomorrow,” Kosmos murmured, toying with something in his hand. It looked something akin to an invitation and you huffed under your breath. You loathed meeting the pompous assholes. They still looked down on you despite the King giving Kosmos his blessing to make you an official pack the year before. 

“Yay,” Atticus deadpanned, swiping one half of Viron’s sandwich and munching it. Viron growled at him and Atticus just grinned with his mouth full of food. You rolled your eyes, kicking him under the table and causing him to yelp and choke a little on his food. Viron smirked triumphantly at him.

“Are you finished?” Kosmos asked, looking at you all one by one like you were all children. You lowered your eyes and bit your lip so you didn't laugh. Kosmos in business mode was amusing.

“Yes, daddy. We’re sorry,” Atticus murmured with a smirk.

“Don't ever call me that again,” Kosmos grimaced. You couldn't hold your laugh back anymore and you snorted, shaking your head as Atticus looked more than pleased with himself. 

“The King wants us to have dinner with him too,” that one sentence made silence blanket over the four of you and you felt your heart burst out of your chest. The only one of them to ever meet the infamous King was Kosmos. 

“Oh no, you’re gonna die,” Viron muttered, his face pale as he ran his hand through his yellowy blonde locks, making it stick up every which way. 

“Don't be so dramatic,” Atticus snorted with his mouth full. 

“As much as I’d like to agree with you, Atti, he has a point. Everyone knows how the King hates rogues and most people still look at us that way,” you murmured with a frown. Everyone knew why the King hated rogues so much. After his Beta’s family was killed by them almost a century ago, he hadn’t been able to let go of the rage he felt for them. 

“He’s not going to kill us. If he was, he’d just turn up here, he wouldn't wine and dine us first,” Kosmos said seriously. You turned your worried eyes to him then and he gave you a reassuring smile. It did ease you somewhat, he had a point. But why in the world the King wanted to dine with you all you had no idea and it left you feeling uneasy. 

“We need to leave tonight to make sure we get there tomorrow on time. Y/N, I want you to stay here and-” Kosmos started.

“No,” you said firmly. Your eyes were blazing as you stared him down from his seat and Viron glanced warily from you to Kosmos.

“No?” he asked with a frown.

“No. We have no idea what this is about or what will happen. You're not asking me to hang back and not have your back out there. I won't do it,” you muttered. Kosmos heaved a sigh and even though you weren't looking at Atticus, you knew he’d be smirking, expecting this.

“Y/N-” Kosmos started again.

“No. You either take me with you or I’ll just follow after you leave,” you were firm in your words and they all knew you’d follow through on it too.

“Fine. Viron and Damon can take charge while we’re gone. We should only be gone a couple of days,” Kosmos sighed, seeing no use in arguing. Viron and Damon made a good team to run the pack. Despite Viron being a little skittish, he was still loyal and a good fighter when it came to it. Not only that, his overactive worrying meant security measures were always followed through and the pack was looked out for. You stood up and left to go to your room, you’d need to get ready for the journey you were about to take, you’d be walking for a day to get to the castle. After getting a small bag ready, you got changed. You had on some tight black pants, knee high leather boots, a white tunic that was tucked in and a large corset belt around your waist. You threw on your furs before grabbing your dagger, strapping it to your thigh. You met the guys back near the front door. They were dressed just like you were, black pants, leather boots and with tunics and furs. You knew Kosmos would have told the pack where you all were going and the plan. After a hug from Viron and reassuring him you’d be fine, you were off. 

As you walked through the forest, you found yourself wishing it was the full moon so you could shift, it would take much less time in wolf form to get there. Nevertheless, you all trekked the long journey, weapons at the ready in case anything happened. You’d pissed a lot of people off doing what you did, you could never be too careful. If you got outnumbered, your weapons would come in handy. There was only so much you could do, your reputation far exceeded you. The 21 pack members were all good fighters. The one thing Kosmos was adamant on was teaching each wolf who joined how to fight well, not only so they could help out the pack, but for themselves. Every single one of them had some baggage they brought with them, whether it be abuse, neglect or trauma from losing a pack. He wanted every pack member to feel empowered and strong, wanted them all to be able to defend themselves all on their own if it ever came to it. There were no young or elderly in the pack and everyone could fight. Your reputation had grown with other packs wanting to be your allies and paying you for bounty hunting or helping out with wars or rogue problems. Other packs didn't like you, still calling you rogues and that only added to the fear factor of the Nomad clan. People don't like what they don't understand. And people didn't understand how supposed rogues had formed a legitimate pack of their own when rogues tended to have no loyalty if they gained nothing from it. You were excellent warriors and word travel fast around these parts. Soon everyone was talking about the pack of rogues. So much so that the Council got involved and wanted in on the action. The Council didn’t like you guys much but they saw you as useful and that's how you ended up being called there every now and again to get high risk jobs. But the pack never asked to be paid with money, you got paid with food and weapons to ensure your pack would be okay to last. The safety of your pack was all the three of you wanted. You were all tired by the time you reached the lands of the castle. The journey had been long and you’d only stopped briefly in the night to rest, taking turns to keep watch. You couldn't be too careful. Not only were the rogues getting bolder recently around this area but to top it off, some packs still wanted your heads on a stick just for having that same label slapped onto you. You had your weapons stored away before the castle gates as you got checked over by the guards. It was the same shit every time. They couldn't be too careful with anyone so only the King and his men were allowed weapons in the castle grounds unless permitted. 

No matter how many times you had seen it now, the castle always blew you away when you walked in. The lands were vast and your eyes traveled to the warriors training, all clad in black and red. They were skilled fighters and you had always wanted to sit there and watch them, learn some tricks yourself. You and your pack were good but you were all self taught. The castle itself was huge and looked right out of a fairytale. It was old, centuries old just like the King himself. You’d never met him, had no clue what he looked like. All you knew was that he hated rogues and he was old. You couldn't help but picture some old graying man with a crown on his head and you snorted to yourself. Wolves aged differently to humans and he was a Lycan Demigod. He was immortal. But still, you had no idea just at what point he stopped aging so in your head, you imagined an old grumpy man. As soon as you stepped foot inside, a young maid wearing a long white and red peasant dress greeted you with her head bowed out of respect.

“Good afternoon, Alpha. I’m here to take you and your men to the Council,” she murmured softly. You didn't bristle at being referred to as a man. It wasn't that you looked manly. Far from it really, your outfit only seemed to accentuate your curves but it was just the norm to refer to the Alphas next in command as his ‘men’. 

“Already?” Kosmos asked with a gruff tone. You were glad you weren't the only one feeling grumpy from the long trek here to meet some stuck up assholes. 

“Y-yes, Alpha,” the maid squeaked softly. She was clearly nervous about being close to an Alpha, you hardly blamed her. Kosmos was scary looking and his aura was pretty tense.

“We were kind of hoping to wash up a little,” you supplied with a soft smile, hoping to ease the girl’s nerves.

“And sleep,” Atticus added with a huff. 

“I’m sorry. The Council requested to see you as soon as you arrived,” the maid explained apologetically. Atticus let out a pathetic whine and you snorted, elbowing him as Kosmos gave the girl a nod. You followed her through to the far east of the castle where the Council lived and did their business. It was hardly ideal to meet them like this. The three of you were slightly muddy, ridiculously tired and hungry. The Council should have let you take a quick nap, your patience would be frayed in the meeting. The Council was made up of a bunch of old wolves who thought they knew everything. The King had appointed them as a Council to take care of lesser things so he had more time for important stuff. The Council leaders were three old men, the ones you’d always meet. It was clear the men didn't like you all much, still looked at you distrustfully, seeing you as rogues like the vile creatures that lurked around with bloodlust. But yet they were more than happy to get you to help them out with harder jobs. It always rubbed you the wrong way, like you were only good to be used for your reputation but not respected. You couldn't very well turn down the offer of jobs from the Council as it was practically like turning down the King, like spitting on his shoes. You had no choice but to take their offers. Not only that but they paid you way more than the usual Alpha’s did due to how risky these jobs were. That meant you’d get a month's supply of food for one job for all of the pack and you would get weapons and medical supplies too. It was ensuring the safety and comfort of your pack. You needed these jobs, but you hated these assholes who looked at you like you were nothing but dirt on their shoes. You would love to see the three pompous asses go out and handle these jobs themselves instead of getting you to do it. They wouldn't last a minute out there. 

As you reached the large wooden doors, the maid politely asked you to wait there as she slipped inside, the door closing but left slightly ajar. You, Atticus and Kosmos stood outside patiently waiting, listening.

“My Lords, the Nomad pack are here to see you,” the maid said softly from inside.

“Ooh, ‘my lords’,” Atticus muttered mockingly in a high voice. Not so much at the maid but at how she had to address the idiots waiting inside for you. You bit your lip to not laugh and Kosmos reached around you, thawking Atticus around his head. Atticus glared across at the Alpha who smirked at him. It was hilarious really. They had this reputation for being ruthless and ferocious in the battlefield but behind closed doors they were like siblings fighting and bickering. If any of your enemies could see them now. 

“Behave. We’re in the Royal Castle. Let's not make them think we’re savages, yeah?” Kosmos said quietly. Atticus rolled his eyes, and heaved a sigh.

“They already think we’re fucking savages,” he muttered in contempt. You had to agree with him on that one and the silence from Kosmos made it clear he also agreed. Before another word could be said, the door opened and the maid bowed her head, gesturing for you to walk in. You gave her a warm smile and the maid smiled shyly back at you. It was time to get your game face on now though. You might be carefree most of the time but you had a reputation to uphold. People feared you and you used it to your advantage, you needed to act tough so you didn’t look weak. The small number of your pack members already made you a target. The three of you steeled your faces as you walked inside, dreading what the Council were going to tell you this time. You were also wondering about the dinner invite with the King. That was new. You couldn't help but feel like whatever was going on was going to change things quite a bit.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@on-ya

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

@noortsshift

@rainbowgoblinfan

@mysweetlittledesire

[samael-your-guardian-angel]

Wazzup Sam, what were you and Asmodeus up to - and wearing👀 - when the thing with Job went down? 🐦🐐

Lemme think... I was probably in the Standard Angel Uniform at the time - itchy gold collar, I looked a bit like a tree topper. Mo was in this black tunic with indigo (bougie bastard) embroidery. And, yeah, we were both on the ground there.

I was hanging around God's Specialest Princess and his family when Mo showed up out of nowhere, all fire and brimstone and "TREMBLE BEFORE THE MIGHT OF THE INFERNAL SERVANTS OF SATAN BLAH BLAH BLAH" and then he saw it was me and cut out all the theatrics. And we sat down and he looked all glum - well, he always does, but more than usual - and he pulled out this contract, you probably know the story about the bet between his boss and my boss (which I had Opinions on, but kept my mouth shut), and he had to come and burn down Job's house and kill all his goats and chickens and family, hence the glumness, for this test, right?

And I said, you aren't really going to do it, are you? And he replied, I don't have a choice, do I? Unless an angel were to stop me, perhaps? And I said, thanks for the tip-off, but if I sequester Job and co. away, people are gonna start asking questions, aren't they, about how I knew, and you'll get into just as much trouble for not destroying everything. And looked at me all horrified like, so you think it's OKAY to kill children for a test and I said No, What The Fuck, Show Me Where I Said That, Oh Right, I Super Did Not Say That, You Absolute Buffoon.

And then I thought about it for a while and eventually I was like, okay, so what if Job just thinks he's lost everything, then the test results will be the same, but with much less child-murder involved. You can just give his family back in secret when all this is over. And Mo became slightly less glum and scurried off to go and conduct his mission in secret. So I thought.

But you know Mo, he's got to be as dramatic as possible, and he wanted an audience for his performance, and the next day he calls me over like Come Watch Me Murder *wink* Job's Precious Children *wink*, and I said, don't do that with your face. And then he put on this big show with the fire and brimstone and lightning, but he made us all fall into the basement in the eye of the storm. It was pretty cool. It would have been a lot cooler if he'd told me first what he was going to do.

He hid the kids and kept them quiet by turning them into frogs or lizards or something, I forget, 'cause we landed in the wine cellar and well, we had nothing else to do while we waited for them to dig us out of the wreckage. It was the first time I had wine, I think. Yeah, Mo was on a roll, he was so pleased with himself for the misdirection, and then he was all ooh, let me tempt you with the devil's drink, little angel~ and. Listen. Listen. Shut up. I know it was cliché and cheesy and whatever. I'm not proud of how easily it worked. Shut up. I know you're laughing. A thousand smitings upon ye if you don't stop laughing at me.

I got very drunk.

I got very hungover, too, and I've rambled enough, so. Job = very sad, still passed the test, God spoke to him, whoa. Mo = invented the magic trick, brought Job's kids back. Me = managed to bullshit the other angels that it was all part of the plan, etc.

Afterwards... I dunno, I got kinda melancholy. I mean, we were supposed to be the good guys, right? So why were we doing all this fucked-up shit to Blameless Job for the sake of a bet that Her Omnipotence would have known the outcome to anyway? Why was Mo, who didn't want to do that fucked-up shit, turned into a demon? I couldn't say any of that out loud either, 'cause what if questioning the morality of Heaven led to them kicking me out too?

Asmodeus came and sat with me. We didn't say much, but I felt a little better. We weren't in The Arrangement just yet, but it felt like a prelude, almost. At the least, it felt a little less lonely.

[k-renee]

this thing i wrote

topic : sad shit about jeff (and monty, i guess) dying

pairing : jeff atkins x poc!fem reader

a/n:: this is like 80% accurate and there's like ONE made up character. the brother of reader, essentially. sorry it's shit <3

jeff atkins had always been my best friend. since the day i met him. the day he died. the day i watched them lower him into the ground. always.

my twin brother andre and i had moved in next door to him and his parents. my mom had forced me and and dre to go outside until they were done unpacking, which wouldn't be for hours. so we sat on the porch, bored out of our tiny little kid minds.

then jeff came out.

he had skin a little lighter than his brown hair, but it was the summer, so he was darker. we all were. he had diamonds in his ears—and he was lying to us about it cuz they were actually rhinestones, now that i remember—and i thought he was so cool for that. i mean, dre and i both had our ears pierced, but it was different because dre only had one ear done, and my earrings were all kawaii and had faces and shit.

but for real, i think the coolest, craziest, most...exotic—if you will—thing about jeff was his eyes. one minute they were blue, the next they were green. it just beat me and dre's plain dark brown eyes that were so dark you couldn't see the irises.

anyway.

he asked us to play baseball with him in his backyard, since he only had one player. himself. i honestly believe he's the reason why i sometimes feel bad for only children.

so we did. and jeff was damn good at it. i don't even know why he asked us to play like he was up for a challenge, because he beat us easily, even though he was outnumbered.

but after that, it was history. we all went to school together. we grew up together. we spent all of our summers together. and over time, one more kid came around.

montgomery de la cruz.

and monty, he was an asshole. a stupid, insane asshole who was like two years younger than us only because he was held back. he was almost a spawn of satan. but he was our friend. we all changed together, no matter how bad of a person one of us (monty) was.

then high school came around. that…that changed everything.

those were the summers that i literally turned pretty. i started to sprout and grow into a woman, and monty and dre and jeff were all there to see it (kinda weird if i think about it now). and everyone noticed. everyone. but i didn't care, because the most important one, that was jeff.

and i was always in love with jeff, i knew that. andre knew that. hell, maybe jeff knew. but the summer before freshman year was when it really mattered. when i really felt it. he’d always have given me some stupid weird fluttering in my stomach everytime he smiled or laughed, but that summer—it was butterflies.

eventually, we started dating. “going out”, essentially. and it was great. i didn't need to argue with him because we agreed on everything and we always had since the beginning of time. i didn't need to be too scared to tell him stuff because he already knew everything. that is—or was—my favorite part about our relationship.

and then just like that, he was gone.

one hour jeff and andre were dragging me to a party. we were having fun. jeff had one drink. dre and i shared three cans of diet coke. jeff went on a beer run i told him not to go on.

the next hour, clay was calling my brother in hysterics.

i was screaming for monty and zach to drive us to the hospital. my nose was bleeding because of my blood pressure, and i had an ice pack on it on our way, but it didn't do anything because i was crying so hard. we got to the hospital. his parents were there. the doctors looked at me. looked at us. looked at our colored faces with no sympathy and told us jeff was already dead. lifeless, in a hospital bed. they didn't even bother cleaning him up. just brought him in and didn't do a damn thing to help save him.

and they all made up this fucking story that he had been drinking and driving. he was drunk, and that's why he died. he crashed on his own, and it was his own fault his life was over.

but that wasn't it. and i learned that two years after he died. i believed this false narrative everyone had made up, and i hate myself for it. i knew him better than anyone, and when i should've been there for him when all people were doing was talking shit, i wasn't. i let them talk because i believed their bullshit.

every day i think of how they put up posters that discouraged underage drinking right after jeff died. how drinking and driving would get you killed. were they not aware or sensitive about my feelings? our feelings?

jeff and i had plans. me, dre, and him were graduating that year. jeff got his full baseball scholarship at some college and i got into an hbcu on a 95% scholarship. dre was gonna get into something, we knew it. we had faith even though his grades weren't too great. we were all gonna visit each other and call everyday. and then jeff was gone. he fucking crashed into another car and it was all over. everything he'd worked for had all gone to shit because he fucking died.

and i hate myself for putting him in that position. letting him leave in the first place. going to that party with him in the first place.

then years later, monty was killed after he was sent to prison.

i'm not gonna say that monty didn't deserve everything that came at him. i can't deny that monty was a terrible person. i can't deny that he was a monster. because he was.

but it's hard to admit that when you grew up with the monster. when you were a close friend of the monster. when you loved the monster.

nothing romantic, but i loved monty. we all did. not because of how sick he was—he absolutely needed help—but because we knew him. those who need help get thrown in prison and are locked away from the help they deserve. the other, worse monsters, like bryce walker, don't get put in prison. walker did ten times worse than monty and only got a measly community service sentence. monty couldn't get half of what he needed because he was—let's face it—darker and poorer than bryce was.

and that monster died too.

maybe bryce's family feels the same way that i do about monty. they hurt so many people, including me. but i can't say–no one can say–if they truly deserved it.

the funny thing is that monty and bryce were friends. so i really don't know if they both deserved it or if they both didn't. and maybe you think they have more in common than i let on. maybe you think that they were both monsters that used people for their own satisfaction, for their own pleasure, and they ultimately paid the price with their lives. and maybe that's true.

but who fucking knows. we're not god out here, but nobody here is an angel.

jeff wasn't perfect, i know. but he was trying. he tried. we all were. we all do. he just wanted to cheer up anybody who he thought was unhappy. he wanted to help people. he wanted to have fun.

and that's all he wanted. he wasn't selfish. he wasn't a drunk bastard alcoholic. he wasn't a jock who was a jerk like scott. he wasn't a somewhat-okay guy who had a good heart somewhere like zach. he wasn't a monster that used people for his own benefit like monty and bryce.

jeff was an angel. to me. to his family, to everybody. and he deserved better. he deserved more than that.

[tobiasdrake]

Impromptu Story Time just outside the walls is over; Back to infiltrating.

See? What'd I say. We're inside the gates now, because nothing is ever locked to a sufficiently determined burglar. And at this point, we have a lot of experience burgling things that shall not be burgled.

Oh good, they're opening the front doors for us. That's always a good sign.

I'm sympathetic to your motives but factionally opposed to you nonetheless. Get out of the way or we're going to have to do the violence.

Credit where it's due, that is a fire comeback.

This is not a conflict that can be solved diplomatically, Brugaves. Get out of the way or we do the violence. Those are the options. Pick one.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little intimidated about fighting our mentors. But also, we killed Torment so I have a big well of confidence to draw from.

Did you just try to pull "Control your hysterical sibling" on us!?

Oh, I am about two seconds from taking "Step aside" off the list of options and going straight to the violence. Zale does not speak for me. I sometimes speak for him. That's how our dynamic works.

Wait, we're in time to thwart the waking ritual? Good to know. Thanks for that tidbit.

Now choke on my staff.

I want you to know that this brings me no joy.

...

Okay, actually, this brings me some joy because it's very nostalgic. Despite everything, there's a strong sense of "If things were different I would very much love to be having this sparring session with you." This is fun in a tragic way.

But things aren't different so fucking back down already.

Oh shit. Right. Stalling for time. I walked my bloodthirsty ass right into that.

It's okay. We can make up for this. There's no time inside the castle so, logically, it's impossible for enough time to pass that the ritual is completed. Therefore, I hereby demand that the Dweller ritual remain suspended in-progress indefinitely.

...

Okay, I think the metaphysics heard me. We should be clear to take our time now. That's how it works, right?

Honestly, this place would just seem like your basic tinkerer's workshop if not for all the organic Dweller gunk infecting the clockwork.

I wonder what the Watchmaker thinks of all this crap getting on her lovely mechanisms?

OH MY GOD THEY LOOK LIKE LITTLE WORKSHOP ELVES

But it's actually eternal child labor! Which. In a way. Is kinda what workshop elves are too. Huh.

Well, in any case, it looks like we've found Cael and his crew. Let's see if they want to help us really piss off Aephorul.

...okay, you are not what I anticipated when I was told there'd be immortal children in this workshop.

You know what, you're right. I have a talent for pissing people off and making unnecessary threats. You do the talking, Garl. You're pretty much the master at inoffensive diplomacy.

No amount of skill points can defend against a Nat 1. That will do, Garl. Let me take over.

Yeah, but you own it. You've got this whole Ancient Gnome Head Researcher vibe that's working for you, and you're leaning into it. The outfit really brings it together. 10/10 Brilliant fashion choice.

Yeah, Teaks told me how that works. Though I'm surprised that the castle doesn't let you mature but does let you age. The rules of magic are obnoxiously arbitrary sometimes.

Oh shit. He's calling you out, Serai. Does your mystery secret have something to do with this place? Are you the Watchmaker or something?

Oh, we're just going to breeze past that. Okay.

That's fine. I'm even more curious than ever but I do trust Serai. I mean, if she had any ill intent, she could have slit all of our throats while we slept and then portaled away before anyone was the wiser. Instead, she tried to thwart Strife's revival and helped us kill Torment.

She has earned more than enough leeway to come clean about her secrets on her own time or keep it to herself forever.

[cyberphuck]

Tonight I watched "There's Something Wrong with Aunt Diane," an extremely boring documentary about the most stressed out woman to ever drive the wrong way on the freeway and get into a horrible car accident that killed her and seven other people. What I was hoping for: a rabbit hole type mystery that got wilder with each reveal, or a poignant story about the people whose lives were changed forever by the accident, and how they were moving forward after it. What I got: One hour and twenty minutes of people being honestly kind of catty about a horrific incident that killed a bunch of children, three innocent bystanders, and a dedicated supermom, and then a close up uncensored photograph of that supermom's mutilated dead body at the crash site with absolutely no warning, followed by "the people whose entire family was killed in the crash told us to fuck off when we asked for an interview." Like I'm a fan of sensationalized accounts of horrible shit happening. You all know this, I love me some good murder porn, someone just got squished at the car factory in my town and my reaction to it was "ooh!" But this was just sheer, greedy exploitation of the saddest people alive and it wasn't even entertaining to watch. The uncensored gore pic was just the whole doc in a nutshell: something momentarily shocking that you didn't really sign up to see, that in the end was pretty much the same as every other gore pic you've come across. The pic of her body was uncomfortably intimate, like seeing her naked in a changing room. You aren't meant to see it, her family definitely doesn't want you looking at it, and there isn't even anything exceptional to look at anyway-- there's no bottle of gin in her hand or marijuana leaf sticking out of her mouth, no note written in blood that says "I DID THIS BECAUSE I HATED MY MOM"-- she's just dead. The director and producers of the doc pushed the Schulers, gave them hope that testing and re-testing the blood samples and DNA swabs would somehow provide different answers or some kind of closure, but in the end, everyone is literally worse off than when they started. The leads they followed led to the same dead ends they had when the case was fresh. Instead of coming to some kind of peace, the widowed husband's resentment of his dead wife just washes over him for a second time; we learn that he hardly spends any time with his only remaining son, that he spends all night working a third-shift security job and all day struggling to do all the things his wife used to take care of, that he stops his son talking about his mom with a bitter "that's not going to bring [her] back, this is how it is now. This is my life now." I should have watched Teen Titans.