#seven years in a row really impressive

[lesbianelizabethfrankenstein]

looking forward to seeing great comet win the tony tonight

[norinenglish]

Stardew Rancher AU - Intro cutscene

Here's my first piece for the Stardew AU challenge.

If you want to take part too, use the #traffic stardew au tag (You can also use the banner I made). On my blog, I will be using #stardew ranchers au as well.

The writing is under the cut.

>> Next Part

I hate this life.

Jimmy doesn’t remember a day in the last year he has not thought this. He’s staring at a computer screen, as he has been for the last seven hours, when it hits him. He hates this life. In fact, it could barely be qualified as a life. 

He misses nature. Running around in the grass, playing, talking to people… He turns his head around to look at the window, but there isn’t even any on the office walls. He looks around him and only sees rows and rows of cubicles with other lifeless people slaving all day. The clicking of keyboards and mouths, the buzzing of the neon lights, it’s all too much.

I can’t stand it anymore, he thinks to himself. I need a way out.

Suddenly, he remembers a conversation he had with his grandpa, when he was young, about the burden of modern life. He hadn’t really realised what it had meant before today. Jimmy, like his parents, had dismissed it as the stubbornness of an old man who was made to live in the countryside. But it must have stayed on the back of his mind, because he kept the letter. 

In fact… 

He opens the drawer of his desk and there it is. A fancy old letter with a fancy purple seal. 

(He’s definitely not going to think about the fact that he kept it in his drawer at work and the possible implication of that. Nope.)

With shaky hands, he breaks the seal and opens it. The swoosh of the paper unfolding is the loudest sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

The letter says: 

Dear Jimmy, 

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. 

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: The Ranch. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. 

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honour the family name, my boy. Good luck. 

Love, Grandpa. 

PS: If the Sherrif is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya? 

He puts the letter down and looks up at the ceiling for a second. 

In all the emptiness he feels, it’s like he’s just grown wing. 

🌿 loading🌿

The bus startles to a stop and Jimmy wakes up. 

“Pelican Town!” The driver screams. 

Jimmy looks around. There’s no else on anymore. He quickly grabs his travel bag and gets out. He says his thanks to the bus driver who just hums unhappily. Guess he really didn’t want to go that far out for just one person. 

On the side of the road is just a small clearing, with broken fences and dirt path. Someone is waiting for him, though. A man with cyan blue hair and an easygoing smile. 

“Hello, you must be Jimmy,” he sayswith a cheerful voice. “I’m Scott, the local florist. Mayor Grian sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival.”

It takes a second for Jimmy to find his words. The reality of what he’s done hitting him finally. He quit his job. He moved out of his appartment. He sold his things and bought a ticket for this small town in the middle of nowhere to become a farmer. 

“Nice to meet you, Scott,” he says after swallowing. “I…”

Gosh, he cannot screw this up. This isn’t like in the city. The people he meets are going to be the community he’s going to live with. He wants to make a good impression. 

Scott smiles, tilting his head to the side. He looks Jimmy up and down with mischief in his eyes in a way that makes Jimmy blush a little. He must be tired. 

“The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”

Jimmy nods and follows him on the dirt path until they reach an area with a… house. Supposedly. 

“This is the Ranch,” Scott announces, waving his arm around to show the land that stretches before them.. 

The Ranch is an old building made out of wood. It looks like it’s been built in the last century. The farmland around, which was included in Scott’s gesture, is littered with some kind of forest. There are different types of trees, dead wood on the ground, bushes, and even some rocks! Is this really the farm his grandfather loved ? 

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks in a light voice. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him and an air of challenge about him. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”

He turns back towards the house itself. Jimmy notes that there’s plenty of firewood on the side of the house. Someone must have stacked it for him. That thought settles in his chest, fluttering like a bird. He won’t sleep in the cold tonight, and that’s thanks to strangers. 

“... And here we are, your new home,” Scott says. 

Just like his words summoned him, a man opens the door and gets down the few steps of his porch to stop in front of them. He pulls the sleeves of his red sweater back to his writs and offers his hand to Jimmy. 

“Ah, the new farmer! Welcome, I’m Grian, the Mayor of Pelican Town.”

Jimmy shakes his hand and introduces himself. Grian nods, seemingly satisfied. 

“You know, everyone’s been asking about you. It’s not every day that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal.” He turns to look back at the house. “So… you’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage. It’s a good house… very ‘rustic’.”

“Rustic?” Scott chimes in. “That’s one way to put it… ‘Crusty’ might be a little more apt, though.”

“Rude,” Grian says under his breath, his eyebrows frowning. “Don’t listen to him, Jimmy. He’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of Gem’s house upgrades.”

“Gem?” Jimmy asks.

“She’s the local carpenter. She lives north of the valley, near the mountain.”

Gem, the local carpenter. Jimmy tries to mentally catalogue. She makes house upgrades.  He turns his eyes towards Scott. He doesn’t remember if he said what he was doing. 

“Anyway… You must be tired from the long journey,” Grian says, looking back at the house. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that.”

He turns to leave and sees the box placed next to the mailbox. 

 “Oh, I almost forgot. If you have anything to sell, just place it in the box here. I’ll come by during the night to collect it. Well… Good luck!”

They are gone before Jimmy can really say anything else. But it might be for the better, because he’s exhausted. 

“I’m here,” he says to no one. Maybe to himself. Or maybe to his grandfather. 

Going into the house is a blurr. He barely have time to register the small table with one chair, the fireplace that was lit up for him and the bed. He just melts into the mattress and passes out.

[spideystevie]

the way i spent 10 minutes ruminating on what to send u from the prompts list 💀😭 but #2 with hangman if you’re up for it <3 its giving childhood bffs to lovers gawd i need him i fear

lovin’ u! 🫶

bee!!!! i am so up for it! love some good childhood friends to lovers. i need him so badly too, i fear. lovin’ you, i hope you enjoy <3 (0.9k) 

2. interlocking pinkies

It was a habit neither of you had broken from the time you were seven. You couldn’t remember when it had stuck but Jake did. Any memory that related to you in any sense of the word was crystal clear and golden in his mind.

You were in the first grade, the end of the school year coming to a close and summer vacation on the horizon. He’d made you pinky swear to be friends forever beneath the shade of an oak tree near the playground at recess.

You hadn’t hesitated, your tiny pinkies interlocking in something you treated like an unbreakable vow. He didn’t let your pinky go after that. Literally. He held it tightly with his all the way back to your classroom. 

Even now, well into adulthood, he was finding excuses to keep your pinky linked with his. Maybe it was a little silly and slightly juvenile all these years later but that didn’t seem to matter. The two of you were drawn together like magnets, your pinkies acting as the north and south ends. 

As you grew up, it only seemed to become slightly more intimate. A gentle reassurance. A simple grounding chain of comfort. And as your feelings grew, blossoming like peonies in spring, you often wondered what it’d be like to link all your fingers together. 

You wondered how he’d react to you hooking your ring finger through his, followed by your middle and so on until your fingers were a tangled knot between your bodies. It always made a nervous tick jolt your stomach, a lurch like you get at the drop on a rollercoaster. 

You arrive late to the Hard Deck, the celebratory party for the completed mission in full swing when you get there. There’s no need to search for Jake because you hear the shouting before you see him.

“No way you can hit it three in a row,” the sound of Rooster’s voice gets louder the closer you get to the dart board. 

“With my eyes closed, Bradshaw,” you can hear the stupid smirk in Jake’s voice.

“Prove it.”

You tsk to yourself, rounding the corner and pushing yourself into the small crowd formed around the game of darts that’s really just your best friend showing off. Sure enough, there’s that signature smirk on his face as he tilts his head and shrugs. Coyote stands next to him and puts his hand over Jake’s eyes as he sets up to throw.

Each dart hits the bullseye, three quick thumps into the board. Coyote moves his hand and Jake grins, turning to Rooster with a look reminiscent of “I told you so.” You shake your head with a smile, still impressed all these years later. 

“You’ll catch flies if you stay like that, Rooster,” Jake teases, moving to walk past him and back towards the bar. He spots you before he gets very far, his face visibly softening and glowing like the sun. He calls your name and when you’re in close enough range, he hooks his pinky with yours to pull you the rest of the way to him. 

There’s a quick press of his lips to your temple that has you wanting to melt down into a puddle on the sticky bar floor. You’re not sure Penny would appreciate another mess to clean though. 

“Was wondering when you’d get here,” he says, starting to walk in the direction of the bar, pulling you along with him. “Let’s get you a drink.”

You don’t argue, content with letting him lead you around by your conjoined pinkies. The two of you end up settled at a table with most of the squadron, your pinkies still interlocked and hidden from prying eyes beneath the table. You’re listening to Payback recount a story from the carrier ship that has most of the guys laughing. 

As you smile along, the nagging thought of interlocking the rest of your fingers until your hands are palm to palm returns. Nearly all of your focus is directed towards pushing the thought away, so much so that you hardly register Jake’s pinky shifting against yours. 

Slowly but surely, he’s begun to maneuver each of his fingers through yours. There’s a scrape of a callus against your hand that makes you blink out of your stupor. You glance down beneath the table, as subtle as you can, to see your hands completely tangled together and sitting on his thigh. 

Something warm and almost unfamiliar bubbles up in your stomach and to your chest. You have to bite your lip to hold back a grin because he’s holding your hand and it feels different, special..right. He squeezes your hands once, quick and fleeting and you look up at him. 

There’s a sparkle in your eyes and he leans his head towards yours. You can feel his breath against your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it when he speaks. 

“This okay?” he whispers and you wonder if he’s aware that his thumb has started to stroke against your skin. You choke on a hum, nodding once. 

“More than okay,” you whisper back. You’re nearly nose to nose, so close you can count the amount of divots that form from the crinkles by his eyes when he smiles. After a beat you blink and lean back, trying to ignore the glaringly obvious looks you’re getting from a few of his new friends around the table.

[batsplat]

Thank you so much for ur work for this community 😭

thank you!! so, listen, I need to get some casey, jorge and valentino images out into the world

this is from the 2007 qatar post-qualifying press conference. obviously it's not just the three of them given colin edwards is like. right in the middle. (and *checks notes* gábor talmácsi is also there.) but still a photo of historical significance... casey's first ever race with the ducati (which he very much wins), plus valentino with his then-current teammate edwards and then-future teammate jorge... it's a bit unclear when jorge was actually signed - lin jarvis implies it was in 2006 but if that's the case, edwards seemed to be under the impression for a little too long that he wasn't going to lose that seat. anyways! look at wee nineteen year old jorge lorenzo, look at his utter absence of anything approaching a smile... look at him

misano 2007 post-qualifying press conference and a very powerful photo imo... some nicely contrasting vibes here, good composition... jorge had already been announced as valentino's teammate, and the title is already more or less in casey's pocket (even more so after casey won here and valentino had a mechanical dnf lol - they'd basically brought the race back to the calendar for valentino so this was. not ideal! incidentally still the last race with an entirely non-european podium.)

not much from 2008 tbh. casey and vale took turns to flop in the first bit of the season and then jorge started crashing his brains out. anyway these are from indianapolis, at a time when jorge was just about in the process of getting his act together while casey had crashed in his last three races (including laguna where he picks up the bike to finish p2). quite fond of this race actually, bit of a mess due to the weather and ends up getting red-flagged

first race of 2009.... casey's scheduled annual qatar win. decent shout for his most boring one of the lot, sorry king

pre-event presser before mugello, where valentino had won seven consecutive times headed into the 2009 race. if I'm valentino I low-key never show my face again after the le mans catastrophe but whatever it's fine

the le mans fiasco in question

anyway mugello is another wet-ish race that valentino ended up playing too conservatively because of the le mans horror show. so casey wins! also jorge beats valentino! old man's washed! just about scams his way onto the podium

italian press weren't particularly kind to valentino for having the audacity to lose mugello. they said it was over... he was finished... imagine only winning a race seven times in a row. was he even trying any more? loser

valentino bounced back at catalunya 2009 in highly dramatic fashion (y'know, it's the one with the last corner overtake). moment of deep historical significance in which jorge pulls valentino down from the podium to give him a hug

first race where casey was really struggling with his mystery illness... idk if I were valentino or jorge I'd maybe check if the third guy on the podium isn't about to drop dead but. well. professional athletes, never really been known for their empathy. they did clap along with the journalists in the post-race press conference when the moderator thanked casey for actually making it to the presser, so that's something?

we all have our struggles

the very next race. immaculate vibes imo. the 2009 title fight going into assen had all three of them tied on 106 points... #heritage

anyway the race itself is pretty boring (as unfortunately are many of the races that year), but it's valentino's 100th win so good on him ig. he got out a special banner with photos of all his wins, which would've been an absolute pain to lug around if he'd not immediately won the next race after his 99th

cute. unfortunately, this is now very much mystery illness period for casey... heroic effort to get himself to the podium but not much more was possible at the time

laguna 2009 post-quali presser. jorge is sitting for the photo, because even though he'd bagged pole, he had a massive highside right at the end of qualifying... hurt both his ankles and his shoulder. he'd also had a horrendous highside right at the start of laguna '08, did a good job to banish his gremlins in order to win at the circuit in 2010

qatar 2010... can't have been after the race because casey crashed :/ valentino grabbed the win, before immediately injuring his shoulder in a motocross accident. all went downhill from there, really. damn the eruption of eyjafjallajökull we were robbed

laguna 2010 podium, most memorable as 'that time when they accidentally played the italian anthem rather than the spanish one and valentino thinks it's extremely funny' (clip here). extremely poor quality photo shows casey found it funny too. very #them thing to happen to them. valentino buddy the cap's supposed to remain off for the duration of the anthem

this is very much post-leg break btw, still pretty cordial with each other given some of the stuff they'd been saying about each other to the press during that period lol (not casey/jorge, they were basically fine by this point)

presser right after jorge and valentino's little motegi misadventure... gifs from the presser. valentino's smirk vs casey's grin while jorge is being interrogated, I think about you often...

this was casey's fourth consecutive phillip island win (of six total)... isn't that just like. an incredibly cool circuit to be goated at. does mean the fight for the victory was generally quite boring - though the battles behind casey weren't always exactly thrilling either, so you can blame that on the era too. 2008 and 2010 has decent action behind casey, 2009 is the closest casey was pushed for the win and 2011 at least has a bit of weather-related jeopardy

valencia 2010, photos taken before unfortunate events

last shared podium!! le mans 2012, a fun wet race that featured the final proper casey/vale duel at the race after casey's retirement announcement so has real sentimental value... congrats to valentino for not collecting casey this time. presser clip where he shows he's also pretty glad about how he (just about) managed this

[bun-lapin]

The Gingerbread Gauntlet (part 1)

Summary: The housewardens have a gingerbread house competition

A/N: I meant to have this ready for before Christmas but of course, life had other plans lol The good news though is that I have a whole bunch of new writing ideas and I'm hoping to bust out of my little creative slump once the holiday chaos dies down a bit <3 The overall fic is a bit long so I decided to break it into smaller parts for readability. I'll be posting one part per day and will add links for the other parts after they post <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4/END - AO3 (whole fic)

Word Count: 1.6k CW: crack, silly, shouting, insults, mild swearing, candy/gingerbread

Winter at Night Raven College was a time even more magical than usual. Although the cafeteria was mostly empty, the sight of festive winter garlands draped elegantly along the walls, combined with the soft sounds of crackling flames in the grand fireplace, brought a cozy sense of winter cheer to the room. The alluring scents of sugary treats and winter spices wafted through the warm air from the kitchen nearby and from a long, solitary table set up by the doors to the kitchen. Already covered with an assortment of candies and plates of oddly shaped gingerbread cookies, the table was the very picture of a sweet and festive feast. Around the table, seven striking figures were seated an equal distance from each other and, as the snow softly began to fall from the sky outside, they quietly worked with the bounty of sugary confections before them.

~

“I swear on the Noble Rulebook of the Queen of Hearts, if I find out someone has been hoarding all of the rose-shaped peppermints, it’s off with everyone’s heads!”

Leona drowsily raises an eyebrow at Riddle and smirks, “What’s the matter, housewarden? We just started. You losing your temper already?”

Riddle scoffs and wrinkles his nose at Leona’s slouching posture, “I’m not losing my temper! I’m trying to make sure there is an equitable distribution of candy decorations for everyone present to construct their gingerbread houses!” He picks up a paper that looks like an architectural blueprint and angrily jabs a finger at a particular section of the diagram. “I am building a gingerbread model of the Heartslabyul rose maze–to scale, I might add–and I require exactly 68 rose-shaped peppermints to construct it.”

Leona slowly blinks at the intricately detailed design in Riddle’s hands and then shakes his head with a soft chuckle. Reaching under his seat, he pulls out a large, glass bowl of rose-shaped candies and passes it to the Heartslabyul housewarden. Ignoring the death glare from Riddle, he turns to the other housewardens seated around the table and asks, ”Can someone remind me again why we’re doing this stupid gingerbread house competition? This seriously feels like a waste of my precious free time.”

Vil looks up from his gingerbread construction with an expression of withering scorn on his face, “We just went over everything not even a moment ago. Did you actually forget or were you just not paying attention in the first place?”

Kalim lets out a bright and hearty laugh from his seat at the table, “I think this is going to be a really fun activity!” He holds up a small gingerbread cookie decorated with dark colored icing and licorice in the image of Dire Crowley, “Plus, we have to do this because the headmaster asked us to!”  Waving the Crowley cookie in the air, he speaks in a surprisingly accurate impression of the headmaster, “I’ll be damned if I let those fools at RSA take home the trophy for the Isle of Sage’s gingerbread house competition another year in a row!”

Leona shakes his head with a slightly aggravated sigh, “I’m still failing to see why I, or any of us for that matter, should care about this useless endeavor.”

With a piping bag of white icing in one hand, Azul laughs softly and adjusts his glasses with the other hand, “There’s also the fact that whoever makes the best gingerbread house here today will receive a free PE class credit.”

Leona’s eyebrows rise in mild surprise and then he smirks. “Is that so? Well I suppose that explains why that guy over there is actually here in person for once,” he says as he points down towards the other end of the table.

Idia peers up from his work, the expression on his face equal parts gloomy and irritated, “Listen, I will do anything if it means I can miss any amount of PE.” Turning back to his geometric gingerbread design with a pout, he mutters under his breath, “Although, the main reason I’m actually here is because Ortho literally shot down my gingerbread construction drone.”

With a softly amused smile on his face, Malleus turns in his seat next to the Ignihyde housewarden and says, “Do try to cheer up, Idia. I’ve always felt that festive occasions such as these should be attended in person. A contraption built for the sole purpose of constructing with gingerbread could never replace someone special like you.”

“Oh-! Uh-! Th-thanks Malleus-shi! Th-that’s really nice of you to say,” Idia replies with a nervous grin. While keeping his gaze pinned to his work on the table, he then smoothly reaches into his pocket and rapid-fire taps out a message into his smartphone: AAGGGHH!!! WHYYY IS THE HEIR APPARENT OF BRIAR VALLEY SITTING NEXT TO ME?? SO DISTRACTING  (╥﹏╥)

A message notification chimes out from the phone in Azul’s front jacket pocket. After checking to make sure his hands are clean of icing, he takes out his phone and reads the message. With a playful smirk on his face, he taps out his reply: Honestly, I’m more surprised by the fact that Crowley actually remembered to invite Malleus this time. What a rare event!

Idia’s phone buzzes quietly in his pocket and he looks down to swiftly check the message. He glares over at Azul with a small frown and quickly types: yo speaking of rare events! are you wearing the glasses i made for you?? the ones with the built-in camera and mic?? because i deffo remember you saying that they were useless and not your style (¬､¬)

The sound of the cafeteria door loudly creaking open suddenly cuts off Idia and Azul’s silent conversation. All of the assembled housewardens turn to see two fluffy ears atop a head of messy, sandy-brown hair enter the room. With a mischievous grin and a hissing-kind of chuckle, Ruggie waves to the group, “Heya, everyone! I’m here for the gingerbread house competition.”

Riddle frowns at Ruggie while balancing two pieces of messily frosted gingerbread in his hands, “No, you certainly are not! This competition is for housewardens only!”

Leona lets out a loud yawn as he waves Ruggie over to the table. Turning to the rest of the group he explains, “It’s alright, I’m the one who called him here.” Handing Ruggie a piping bag of icing, Leona adds, “He’s gonna build my gingerbread house for me while I take a nap under the table.” Cries of outrage erupt from around the table and Leona’s ears twitch angrily as he raises his eyebrows at the grumbling housewardens.

While carefully setting down a slanted piece of gingerbread atop his elegantly constructed house, Vil states bluntly, “Ruggie is not allowed to build your house for you, Leona. Crowley explicitly instructed us to build these gingerbread houses without any magic or outside assistance.” Raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow, he smirks and adds, “If you want this free class credit, you’re going to have to put in some amount of work for once in your life.”

Leona directs a questioning look towards Ruggie who, in turn, raises his shoulders and shakes his head in resignation. Leona waves a hand dismissively at Ruggie, effectively shooing him out of the room, and clicks his tongue with annoyance, “Fine, fine. I got it. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it, though.” Grabbing a handful of candies and pieces of gingerbread, he then quickly and expertly begins assembling them together.

Without looking up from his work, Vil smoothly pipes extra icing on the corners of his house and replies in an even tone, “Call me by that word again and I’ll shave off all of your hair to weave into a throw rug for the Pomefiore common room.”

“Hey Vil,” Leona chirps out a soft whistle to catch the Pomefiore housewarden’s attention.

Letting out a short, aggravated sigh, Vil rolls his eyes and then looks over at Leona. “What,” he flatly asks.

With a heavy thud, Leona sets the end result of his hard work for the last few minutes on the table in front of him. Made from rounded pieces of gingerbread and decorated with brightly colored candies, is a large replica of a hand with a raised middle finger. Standing up from his seat, Leona flashes everyone a triumphant little smirk and then saunters out of the room without another word. 

The remaining housewardens silently watch him leave and, as the cafeteria door creaks shut, they return to their work with a softly murmured chorus of disapproval. An uncharacteristic silence settles over the group as everyone focuses on their individual gingerbread designs for the next few minutes.

Kalim finally breaks into the quiet with a bright laugh, “It's too bad Leona decided to leave early! I just finished making his cookie counterpart!” He holds up a Leona-shaped gingerbread cookie decorated with chocolate candies and a tiny feline scowl drawn in icing.

Looking up from his work, Vil studies the little cookie with an irritated glare. Wordlessly, he reaches across the table to pluck the Leona cookie from Kalim’s hand and then snaps the head off of the gingerbread figure. Handing the beheaded cookie back to Kalim, Vil flatly states, “My apologies.”

After carefully laying the broken pieces of Leona on a plate, Kalim holds up two additional gingerbread figures. One is decorated with marshmallow pieces and little wolf ears. The other is decorated with fluffy peanut butter frosting and hyena ears. Waving the wolf-eared cookie through the air, Kalim yells in a low, gruff voice, “Oh no! Housewarden Leona! I'll find out who did this to you and avenge the honor of our dorm!” Wiggling the hyena-eared cookie, Kalim says in a smoother, teasing voice, “Shyeheehee! Does this mean I get the rest of the day off?”

-continued in part 2-

[fandomsnstuff]

Something short and sweet for @taznovembercelebration day 10

Day 10: sick

The Taaco twins have one cardinal rule: if you receive a text consisting of SOS and a number, you call your twin in that many minutes and give them an excuse to leave wherever they are. No questions asked.

Read it on AO3

Taako's having a nondescript night at home when his phone lights up with a text.

lupdelup

SOS 7

He waits exactly seven minutes, then calls her.

“Hello?” She should get an Oscar for that greeting alone. It's a perfect tone of slight confusion with a tinge of concern.

“Lup,” he puts on a performance of his own, making his voice sound weak and strained, “you gotta come home right now.”

“Taako? Are you okay? What's going on?”

“I'm really sick,” he lays dramatically on the couch for effect, tossing an arm over his eyes, “I haven't been able to keep anything down, and we're out of tums and tylenol.”

“Alright, it's okay.” Her voice quiets a bit through the phone as she talks to the shmuck that she was convinced to go on a date with, “I'm sorry, I gotta go. My brother-”

“He's a grown man.” The guy's voice is quiet, seeing as the phone isn't on speaker, but Taako's able to pick it out. “Sit down.” He sounds like a douche.

“Lup,” he groans, “my stomach hurts so bad, and I'm burning up. I think I need to go to the hospital.”

“He's in a really bad way,” she says to the guy, “I need to go help him.”

He can only get a vague impression of the guy grumbling, but Lup says goodbye to him and a moment later, she says into the phone, “what a fucking asshole.”

He drops the ailing brother act, “that bad, huh?”

“Ugh,” he hears her car door slam, “me telling him I needed to leave just now was the most words I've been able to say in a row all night.”

“Gross.”

“Just wait ‘til I get home, it gets worse.”

“I'll see you soon.”

“Thank youuuuu.”

They hang up, and Taako goes back to his show. About 25 minutes later, the door swings open and slams shut.

“This fucking guy-”

About a month later, Taako's home alone again while Lup's out on a date. But he isn't waiting for an SOS, because this date in particular is with one Barry Bluejeans. Lup probably wouldn't admit it, but she's been cuckoo for him from the moment she laid her eyes on him and he opened his mouth. As far as Taako's concerned, they've been going on dates for ages now, they just lied to themselves and said they were hanging out as friends. But this date is for realsies. “We said it was romantic and everything,” Lup had told him a few days prior, buzzing with excitement.

Lup said she'd be back later that night, but he's honestly not expecting to hear from her until morning. So when his phone lights up, he's confused.

lupdelup

SOS 2

Taako scoffs and goes against SOS protocol, texting her back:

🌮🔔

No

lupdelup

what?

🌮🔔

Unless you give me a reason, absolutely not

lupdelup

I thought the whole point of this system was no questions asked

🌮🔔

I've had to listen to you talk about this guy for YEARS

You get all wistful about it every single time

If you tell me he's a creep or a douche or secretly racist or something, ill call you, but im not giving you a bail out call if you're just getting all in your own head overthinking and freaking out about being on a date with THE barold bluejaens.

lupdelup

Taako please i dont know if i can do this

🌮🔔

Of course you can, you're LUP

He's lucky that you're into him and i know that he knows that

Tell you what

I'll give you an SOS 60

lupdelup

60 is so many though

🌮🔔

I'll call you in an hour. If you still want to bail, then bail. But go back to your man and enjoy it. From what I know about him, it'll be the best date you've been on in months

lupdelup

Maybe even years.

🌮🔔

I'll talk to you in an hour

lupdelup

Fine

Asshole.

Taako sets himself a timer for 60 human minutes and goes about his evening. When it goes off, he considers not calling and waiting to see how long it'll take her to notice. But he's a man of his word, especially for Lup, so he calls. It rings, and rings, and rings. Taako's hopeful, Lup almost always picks up SOS calls on the second ring. It rings one more time before he's sent to voicemail.

The phone beeps in his ear.

“Your call has been forwarded to our automatic voice message system. Lup Taaco isn't available right now. Leave a message after the tone.”

“Told you,” he says, and hangs up.

Lup doesn't come home until morning.

[bearterritory]

Golden Bears Beat Demon Deacons

Cal Moves Closer to Bowl with 46-36 Win

Fernando Mendoza passes for 385 yards, 2 TDs

WINSTON-SALEM, N.C. – The California football team forced four turnovers and quarterback Fernando Mendoza threw for a career-high 385 yards and accounted for three touchdowns, and the Golden Bears registered their first Atlantic Coast Conference victory in program history with a 46-36 triumph over host Wake Forest on Friday night at Allegacy Federal Credit Union Stadium.

Placekicker Ryan Coe booted a pair of 54-yard field goals and wide receiver Mikey Matthews notched career-highs of eight catches and 83 yards, as Cal led wire-to-wire and inched closer to bowl eligibility for the second year in a row. The Bears (5-4) need to win one of their final three games of the regular season to become eligible for the post season.

Cal picked off three passes, including a game-clinching interception by linebacker Liam Johnson with 1:54 to play.

"It's really impressive," Head Football Coach Justin Wilcox said. "It's hard to win in this conference. We have a ton of respect for Wake Forest. I'm proud of our players."

Mendoza threw touchdown passes to Matthews and fellow wide receiver Tobias Merriweather, a highly touted transfer from Notre Dame who made his Cal debut Friday after missing the first eight games of the season with an injury. Fellow transfer wide receiver Kyion Grayes, a widely heralded athlete from Ohio State, also played his first game for Cal after recovering from injury.

Merriweather had six catches for 52 yards while Grayes added a pair of receptions for 22 yards. Eleven different players caught at least one pass for the Bears. It's clear the Bears will have a lot more offensive weapons late in the season.

"It was great to have (Merriweather) and Kyion Grayes back in the rotation, throwing passes to them and getting back our chemistry," Mendoza said. "Those are two guys I'm going to get the ball to."

Mendoza added a 5-yard touchdown run near the end of the third quarter.

Cornerback Nohl Williams recorded another interception to extend his national lead to seven this season while safety Craig Woodson also had a pick during the game's waning seconds to polish off the win. The Bears scored their first touchdown of the game on a 16-yard fumble return by Miles Williams on a kickoff.

Coe, who made just 7 of 14 field goal attempts through the first six games and was eventually replaced by Derek Morris as Cal's primary placekicker, maintained his role as the Bears' choice for longer field goals and responded by twice falling 1 yard shy of tying the program record for longest field goal.

"I'm just proud of that guy for continuing to stick with it through some tough times," Wilcox said. "For Ryan to come in and hit two 54-yarders, that's big time. We knew he could do it. We've seen it. It's not surprising. It's really a testament to him."

The Bears got off to a strong start, taking the opening kickoff and registering five first downs on a 64-yard drive that ended with a 29-yard field goal by Morris. Williams pushed Cal's lead to 10-0 on the ensuing kickoff after Hunter Barth forced a fumble during the return. The Bears led 29-14 at the half and never looked back.

The teams traded scores throughout the second half, and the Demon Deacons started a possession from their own 17 trailing 39-36 with 2:17 to play. Johnson registered his interception on the second play of the drive, and running back Jaivian Thomas provided a cushion with an 11-yard touchdown run with 1:10 remaining.

Johnson and Barth split time at inside linebacker after Cade Uluave left the game with an injury in the second quarter. Barth finished with a career-high seven tackles, including a pair of sacks. Xavier Carlton and David Reese also had a pair of sacks for the Bears, who recorded seven overall.

"I just had to be ready when my number was called," Barth said. "That takes watching all the film, taking all the practice reps and paying attention to detail. It felt good to go out there and execute and leave it all out on the field."

Cal returns home next week to host Syracuse on Nov. 16 at Noon. The game will air on the CW.

[aita-blorbos]

WWTA for Messing With the Staff at Summer Camp?

Every summer when I was a kid, I (F16 now, but ~10 back then) would go to this camp with some of my friends from school (L, F10, E, M10, and H, also M10). It was a nice place, out in the woods away from the city, and I liked it a lot. But the counselors were some really eccentric people, downright freaky sometimes. (There seem to have been a lot of very eccentric people in our local area for some reason, now that I think of it.)

The first summer, the head counselor was this really hairy outdoorsy guy (M30ish, I guess?). He taught us all about the local wildlife and wilderness survival, but he was also really into telling scary campfire stories about werewolves (he could do a good impression of a wolf howl, it was pretty scary). Anyway, L and E got it into their heads that this guy was actually a werewolf himself and turning into a wolf at night, that he was going to eat us, that kind of thing. So they would go on and on about this and H and I started to believe it, too.

So the full moon comes and the hairy counselor guy was leading a full moon hike, which made L and E freak out and think that was when he was going to eat us. They looked up plants that protect against werewolves in a book and then we tried to find plants like those in the woods (but I'm sure now that they really weren't), and convinced us to sneak into his cabin and put the plants in his socks and underwear.

It turned out that whatever plants they were, he was allergic to them and got a very bad rash. We went home the day after the full moon hike and L and E were celebrating that we had saved everyone from the werewolf.

The next summer (or later that summer? It feels like we were ten for like seven years or something with how much happened to us in a year back then, so I can't really remember exactly), we went back to the camp. Werewolf Guy was still there, but now there was also a rowing coach who was into the whole pirate look and wore bandanas, had a pet parrot, a black beard, etc. I think he pushed us a little too hard with the rowing practice, but we did win the big canoeing tournament against our rival camp in the end.

But E and L of course get it into their head that this guy is actually Blackbeard (like actually Blackbeard but still alive 300 years later somehow), so they convinced us to sneak into his cabin where he had more pirate books and stuff. He had a really old document that I think might have actually been from the Age of Piracy that E and L thought was a treasure map, so they took it and we tried looking for the treasure around the camp there. We almost missed the canoe tournament looking, the Pirate Coach Guy came looking for us and we freaked out and ran from him, but once we got back and started rowing with the others, everything was fine. (Except that E crumpled and lost the old document.)

The next time we went to the camp, the Pirate Coach Guy was gone, but now there was a female track coach who was into making us run laps. She really did overdo it in the hot sun, we were on the verge of exhaustion a few times by the time she let us stop. She also definitely was in a relationship with Werewolf Guy and they were flirting all the time and kissing and talking about running away together. In hindsight that level of PDA on the job was really unprofessional.

Anyway, E and L (OF COURSE), decided she was a mermaid in human form and was trying to seduce Werewolf Guy. E decided that if he threw water on her, she would turn back into a mermaid and everyone would see. First he tried to splash her when we were swimming in the lake and she was reading on the shore, then on the last day, he actually snuck a bucket of water into the track area and threw it on her, and she freaked out, ran away, and apparently quit.

In retrospect, I realize now how heinous a lot of the things we did as kids at that camp because of E and L's beliefs about the counselors were (a lot of similar things happened to us at school and we kind of accidentally blew up our art teacher's garage once, but that's another story). But I also realize the camp staff were acting kind of unprofessional by scaring us with the werewolf stories and howls, overdoing it with the exercises, and coming on to each other right in front of us. Were we TA or were they?

[werezmastarbucks]

she has the bluest eyes

pic credit

author's note: obv i do not own any of these people and feel kinda weird writing about actual humans. but i am inspired, so what can i do. they'll never see this anyway, and this lore has been with me for some time.

warnings: a lil bit of incest, mercy killing

word count: 2679

masterlist

On Friday aunt Anne-J and her husband visited. The relatives were concerned about the parents’ absence. But there was also a special kind of unease in their presence in the house; the aunt, this awesome girl, their mom’s younger sister, she had the bluest eyes the world has ever seen. Her eyes were like two deep aquariums, and when the light shone upon them from the side, they exploded in color. It was hard to bear. With these eyes, Anne-J saw the boys through and did not trust them very much. Kai was the main reason she moved out at the age of twenty-two, three years ago. Sam was still an awkward schooler back then, but Kai was already of age, and he creeped her out. Little square mind she had, aunt Anne-J. She felt something bad about him, like an animal, and did not look further. Although she felt worried about Sam who was growing up to be a fucking weirdo, and Tyler, who was always obsessed with her, she abandoned the two younger nephews. And Kai took over them completely. It’s not like they could have a different fate.

When she found this cool, mature guy with an earring in his nose and an exceptionally stoic demeanor, she got a little bold and started visiting. And now, it felt more like a doctor house visit than anything else. She was trying to sniff out what was going on. She hasn’t heard from her sister in a month and a half. And she started getting agitated.

They (Kai) baked a cool apple pie and made lots of food. In spite of all one might think about the three Parkers, they enjoyed a good family evening. Be it boardgames, or a little concert, a roll down the hill or a dinner. Tyler was helping in the beginning, but then he couldn’t stand anymore; the black oily substance was crawling up his chin, and his head was throbbing with so much pain he had to take a record-breaking amount of painkillers. It was a miracle he was still in his right mind or never got poisoned from so much medication. He laid on the couch with his eyes half-opened and watched Kai performing his usual wonders in the kitchen: rotisserie chicken, cheesecake, a Greek salad and tuna salad, and a pie, and lots of home-made chili sauce. Samson went around the house cleaning and moving things around, as if trying to cover up a crime scene, although there was none.

“Ask the creature to give you a break for an evening”, Kai said, passing by the couch towards Sam, who stood at the far window and was trying to adjust the curtain according to a standard, known only to him. Tyler moved his head, looking through teary eyes, as his older brother started wrestling with his younger. Blurry. He lifted himself up on the couch with one hand and had the urge to sing again. But for now, all he could do was sit up and keep looking at them.

Yes, actually, he could do that. He should do that. Have a conversation with this whoever that was trying to peck his way out through his skull. If only he knew the language, he could have a row with him and discuss conditions. The roar in his head told him the language would sound like the raging ocean, or like the whisper of blood.

At five-thirty, Anne-J and her husband, Adam, arrived. They brought lemonade and wine, and some flowers. Anne-J really liked flowers, and she left them everywhere she went. They were the impressions of her footsteps. Seven yellow marigolds, she put them into the vase that she took out of the higher cupboard, to Kai’s displeasure. He knew that Anne-J knew. And it angered him.

Now the yellow flowers stood in the middle of the table, irritating Sam’s sensitive eyes and mood. He kept tilting his head in order to see everyone at the table. Anne-J sat with her back to the window, her pearl-white hair and her ocean-blue eyes, and was scanning them tirelessly.

“Well, not even a text message?”

“Nah”. Kai shook his head. Tyler’s sight was amazingly clear after another portion of painkillers finally kicked in. Oh, his blood would reek of pills if someone wanted to drink it. He was watching his aunt, eating quietly, but was on the lookout for his older’s moods.

“They did say that they want a thorough rest from our bullshit”, Kai continued. He was being uncharacteristically peaceful; no babbling, no witty hints, no special looks.

“Incorrect”, Sam chimed in, “the note said, we want to stay away from the calamity of this house for a while”.

“Not very parenty of them”, Kai grinned. Tyler scratched his temple, chewing the salad. He and Adam had the understanding that the two men usually have, who love one woman. The resentful, but very deep understanding. They exchanged silent looks and returned back to eating.

“Well, you’re not the easiest children to have”.

“Anne-J, it’s been a while since we’ve been children”, Tyler said suddenly, straightening his back. She sighed, as if saying that he knew what she meant.

“That’s right. We can take care of ourselves. Don’t our poor parents deserve a long cruise around the world? I think that’s what they’re doing. They did mention something about… water…” Kai lifted his face, thinking, “no, not the water. Ice. Maybe they’re…”

“Not right again”, robotically corrected Sam. One could think, by the way he moved his head to face the table, and by his tense shoulders, that this irritated him. But correcting others was a happy activity for him. “I don’t remember anything about ice”.

“Well, Samson, that’s because…”

“Stop egging him”, Tyler pleaded.

“You always do that”, Anne-J agreed, “you make him make a scene”.

“You don’t know me”, in Kai’s smiling voice was now just a pinch of warning. She withstood his stare. Then he went on cheerfully. “But I do though. So, how’s everybody liking the main course?”

“Amazing”, Adam said sincerely. “Do you order it from places?”

“No, I cook everything myself”.

“You gotta give it to him”.

“Tyler really wanted to help”, Sam joined, “but he got so excited that you were coming that he got a headache again and laid on the couch the whole day”.

“Excited?” Anne-J smiled. Kai gave the youngest a warning look, but unfortunately Samson didn’t notice. He was deep in conversation.

“Oh yes, he loves when you come by. He loves you so much that he even started dating our neighbor who looks like you”.

Adam’s food got into his throat and got stuck there, so he started coughing furiously. He dropped his fork and covered his face with his hands. Anne-J’s cheeks went rosy-pink. Kai has failed to avert this, so now, naturally, he just accepted the fun. Tyler’s nostrils flared.

“Incorrect”, he mimicked his brother, not very successfully.

“I am not dating her, and she doesn’t look like Anne-J”.

Her bluest eyes darted towards Tyler finally. Her hand was still lying on her husband’s back.

A loud noise came from the street. It was unusual for the neighborhood. Someone’s car was drifting and swerving, and then there was a crash.

They all jumped, except for Kai, who first finished his chicken leg and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. Sam ran outside and Anne-J let him out like a dog that’s too excited. Adam, still a bit reddish, already had his phone in his hand.

In the end of the street, a white Honda was lying on its side, smoke coming out like stage effects. They grouped on the road at first, looking, questions and thoughts swirling in their minds. Kai walked towards the accident spot confidently, waving his hand at the neighbors who started peeking out or exiting their houses.

“Call the ambulance”, he recommended, “or don’t. I don’t care”.

That was the thing, he liked to kill. He would use any opportunity to kill someone, and mercy killings of crash victims was some of his favorites.

A girl, Anne-J’s age, and a guy who was at the wheel, were lying on the road next to a car. A picture that has been in his mind for some time. What is up with these blonde dreamy girls, and why are they following him? When she was like that, her legs spread out on the ground, face angelic, covered in blood, she really reminded him of his aunt. He really wanted to kill her, for the longest time. This was perfect to soothe that urge for a while. Anne-J was a nuisance, he thought, as he squatted next to her, feeling for the pulse. Behind him, Tyler was trying to distract Sam from saying out loud what Kai was about to do.

She had a little bit of a heartbeat. Wounds on her elbows and her shoulders told him she had been thrown out of the car and slid on the road a foot or two. Kai put his palm on her little face, and she opened her eyes. Disappointingly brown, coffee-brown, like Sam’s. He got angry with this bitch, for not meeting his expectations. The guy next to her was already dead. Neither wore seatbelts, naturally.

They had a pact, Tyler and him. Road-nearly-kills are his. After those, he could go on without murders for almost a month.

“Is she breathing?”

The steps behind him were approaching. Adam was already talking on the phone, the chatter around indicated neighbors’ desire to be in the thick of things. He was covered by the shade of a tall linden tree and the carcass of the smoking car.

“What are you doing?”

Anne-J fell on her knees next to him as he removed the hand from her face. He sighed deeply, feeling the calm shooting down his arms and legs, his head a little light. Only his heart raced.

“She was dying anyway”, he said simply.

“What?!” Anne-J’s voice was shrill as she fell on her ass, looking at him with horror. Kai caught Tyler’s glance and motioned for him to approach. Brother looked like he was a prisoner on his way to his lethal injection. They all acted like he made their lives so awful.

“Look at her injuries. Both legs broken, and you’re literally sitting in the pool of her blood. Her spine is broken. This is no quality of life”.

Adam looked concerned as Tyler tried to pick Anne-J up. His black fingers stained her white cardigan. She was still looking at Malachai.

“You really are out of your fucking mind. I’m reporting you to the police”.

“To say what?”

She was fighting Tyler feebly as he was trying to balance her and make her stand on her own. Her eyes were pulsars, and Kai kind of understood why she was constantly on Tyler’s mind. But she was honestly such a normie.

“That I was feeling the pulse of a dying woman? It’s a tragedy, Jenna. I mean, Anne-J”.

He smiled. He liked getting people’s names wrong on purpose. Made them inflate like balloons.

Neighbors were chattering in horror, clutching their necklaces and collars. Adam was in his own kind of zoo, as it turned out: as soon as he finished his call to the police, Samson started lecturing him on the reasons and processes of accidents like this.

“Seatbelts, seatbelts were not invented for no reason”, he was saying, mindlessly, ignoring Adam’s white lips, “some people refuse to wear seatbelts because, upon the impact, a seatbelt may cut off a breast off a woman. But what they fail to see is that, had it not been for the seatbelt, a lot more would have been chopped off. If the seatbelt impact strikes you with such a force, it means that you would surely be dead without it”.

Adam put out his hands and hugged Anne-J, looking at the black and red stains on her shoulders, her jeans and sleeves.

“Cluster. We haven’t had the dessert”, Kai said joyfully. And went back into the house.

Anne-J was furiously rubbing the sleeve of her cardigan under the cold water when Tyler squeezed himself into the bathroom. She turned with a swing, and calmed down immediately as she saw who entered.

“Are you sure you’re leaving now?”

“Yes, Tyler, we’re leaving”.

Her voice was shaking.

His head was hurting again. Now, this time it’s been less than four hours. It was getting alarming. The amount of painkillers he had taken in order to get through this evening was astonishing. Tyler supported himself on the sink, and Anne-J instinctively moved away a little.

“Whatever you think you saw, Kai would’ve used it to fuck with you”.

“Oh, so you’re telling me he knew immediately what I thought he was doing, read my mind, right? And played into it? He was sitting there with his palm on her fucking face, covering her nose, Tyler”.

“I think you were seeing things because of shock”.

She splashed the water angrily, and Tyler’s blackness raised its head.

“Don’t gaslight me”, she said, looking at him in the mirror. “This house is fucking nuts. What’s going on with you, Tyler?”

“Don’t ask”.

“Is it your headaches?”

It came like a syncope. Suddenly Tyler had no time to run away or even move. It shot through his arm that was resting on the edge of the sink, right into his brain, at raging speed. The black filled his eyes for a second. He knew that this was the night that the creature would finally show itself. Anne-J’s face was distorted, but she still did not look too concerned. She was trying to get to him, bowing slightly. Tyler saw himself in the mirror: black neck, blurry features. He couldn’t see clear anymore. The voice said,

“I had to break through”.

And then he jumped.

Kai threw the door open, simultaneously pushing Adam away. Sam was useless. He was just an information machine and could not help effectively. Adam was trying to get to his screaming wife, and Kai couldn’t let him. Not human life, not his relatives, nothing was more important than his brothers, pieces of himself.

He jumped inside and pulled on Tyler’s shoulders. He couldn’t even see what Tyler was doing; maybe he was kissing Anne-J, or maybe choking her; maybe he was trying to eat her face. As he spun his brother around to slap him out of the episode, the face that stared back at him made him think of wormholes. It was a good thing Kai did not fear a single thing in this world, otherwise he would scream. Now, he just frowned, thinking. Adam pushed him into the wall and ran into the bathroom where Anne-J collapsed on the floor, crying.

“The fuck are you?” he asked, pulling Tyler into the corridor. It was like he was moving his head so quickly that a human eye couldn’t catch it.

“I am”, the hollow voice said.

“You got a name?”

“swallowing.”

He pushed Tyler further, and his body moved aimlessly. Adam was dragging Anne-J from the bathroom silently, helping her, and she looked unharmed, but very stressed out.

“What’s going on? Oh”, Sam moved away to let them pass, unaffected, “he has a blurryface?”

“Stop swallowing and get my incest-loving stupid brother back”, Kai suggested.

“I think I saw it before”, Sam approached them, so carefree that Kai got concerned for a second. What if he remembers now?

“You’re the blurryface, the alter-ego of Tyler”, he said. Tyler moved his head as if looking at Samson.

“swallowing things”, the voice was coming from the depths of this being, otherworldly and metallic.

“never easy. He fights me”.

Kai gave him a slap on the back of the head with his ringed palm.

“Last warning, dude. Get Tyler back online”.

His body started shaking, and the boy collapsed, like a pile of clothes, on the floor. Sam looked at Kai with big surprised eyes.

“So, there’s four of us now?”

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: October LOCATION: The public library PARTIES: Anita and Regan SUMMARY: The library shouldn't have advertised their screaming closet if they didn't want to draw in the banshees (and... snakes?)

“Hello. I am here to scream."

With a few medical texts under her arm, Regan marched into the library with self-important purpose. The ads around town (including some rather distastefully plastered over the goo in Worm Row) said “10 minutes in the screaming closet! Donate books today!” She wasn’t sure what that meant, but any good banshee would have investigated such a claim. Regan had too many books to get rid of, anyway. She wasn’t sure when Siobhan would eventually collect her, but it would be soon, and better someone else put these old, reliable tomes to use. “The Big Book of Causes of Death” was a classic. 

Already, she could hear a shrill, watered down attempt-at-a-scream coming from a closet toward the back of the library. A short line had formed just outside, people bouncing on their feet in anticipation. Regan was bracing herself for an insult. She located the nearest librarian – a 50-something year old woman who she could only describe as “dusty” – and placed her books on the counter with a thunk that managed to be more impressive than that “scream” had been. She noticed a couple of other textbooks next to her own pile, detailed photographs of beetles gracing the covers. 

“Hello. I am here to scream.”

The librarian nodded toward the line, looking almost bored. “You can queue up.”

Regan shuffled miserably into the line, crossing her arms as a mother and her three young children were ushered into the closet. Pathetic whimpering sounded from the other side of the door. Regan turned to the woman ahead of her in line and couldn't keep a look of derision from crossing her face. “You will be my opening act. Do not disappoint me.” Actually… she was off to a good start. Regan eyed the sharp angles of her face and met her intelligent eyes. There was something familiar about her, though she was certain they hadn’t met before. Not in person, at least. “The beetle books… were those yours? Bit large for casual read throughs, for most, unless they were highly engaged with the subject matter.”

---------

Anita didn’t usually pay attention to the random ads she saw plastered about town but as she walked across campus that afternoon, Anita had seen an ad the public library must have put up about some sort of scream closet. Immediately she thought of Regan, the confusing and curious medical examiner. She was just messaging her about meeting in some scream closet … that couldn’t be a coincidence. After all, 10 minutes in the screaming closet did kind of sound like the adult version of seven minutes in heaven. Taking it as a sign, she read the rest of the ad and then turned to go back into the building and grab a small stack of unused books from her office. 

After collecting three books on various types of beetles, Anita headed down to the library. She felt that it was a longshot that they might end up there at the same time, but she had time to kill anyway. Even if the medical examiner didn’t show up she was now fairly interested in finding out what the hell this screaming closet was about. 

“These aren’t exactly…current,” the librarian said after Anita placed her book offerings down on the desk and flipped through the first few pages. 

“Do you want the books or not?” She shot back, which received nothing but a huff in response as the librarian waved Anita off towards some line. Presumably, the line for the screaming closet. Glancing around at the people lined up and those browsing around the library Anita didn’t see anyone that sort of looked like Regan. Though she didn’t really have the best idea of what she looked like. 

Only a few minutes had passed when the person in line behind her started saying something about an opening act. She was nobody’s opening act. She was the headliner. As she turned to the other woman to tell her just that Anita stopped herself when she saw the pale blonde woman before her and there was a flash of recognition. Could it be? “They most certainly were mine,” she responded with a grin. “Perhaps they are… but I’m not most. They might not get a ton of use, but I’m sure anyone who comes in looking for highly specialized beetle books will be thrilled to find them on the shelves. What is it that you brought in?” 

---------

Regan had never heard screaming in a library before, and beyond the screams themselves being piddly, insulting little things, it was strange to get used to. Another one sounded from behind the closet’s door, and she itched with anticipation. Or maybe she was itching with something else. She had deduced that her company was the entomologist, Anita. The one who seemed to enjoy sending flirtatious messages at a rate that rivaled Jade’s, and the one who seemed curious enough to check out what was going on here. Surprisingly, she had been true to her word and actually showed up. Regan kind of thought Anita had to be some kind of an internet robot who was trying to flirt her way to a social security number or bone collection. Even now, it was hard to believe she was real – she had a commanding presence and Regan was pretty sure that even in death, her face would retain all of its etched beauty, as if it defied gravity and slack muscles. It was her mind, though, that Regan locked on to.

“You’re Anita, Dr. Nieves,” Regan said with confidence but needed to check anyway. And help Anita out, if she didn’t put two and two together. They were bumped closer to the closet as a mother and kids stumbled out and a man in a business suit marched stoically inside, taking their place. Regan’s knees bounced with readiness. “Especially generous of you to part with those books, in that case. Someone else may benefit from them. Flesh flies are so often overlooked, but not by you, I bet.” Maybe after the two of them could go track down a nice maggot mass. “I’m here to investigate this screaming closet. I expected better performance from others, but that was my mistake, I think. Poor form.” And ill-suited physiology. “Personally, I plan to provide an exemplar scream so that others may have something to strive for. People grow lazy and uninspired when surrounded by mediocrity, don’t you think?” 

---------

It was impossible for Anita not to smirk at the fact that Regan had recognized her. Any doubt or hesitation she had as to who was standing in front of her had evaporated and was replaced with certainty. She was used to people not being receptive to her advances online but those were usually clear shutdowns. Her conversations with Regan always danced around the flirtation, as if making future plans to investigate maggots together didn’t constitute foreplay. “Astute observation, Dr. Kavanagh.” 

There was a pause of silence, a reprieve from the screaming, as the occupants rotated out. The business man hadn’t seemed all that eager to enter the screaming closet yet a few moments later the muffled echoes of a deep guttural scream could be heard coming from within. “I am quite generous, that is true. And I never overlook matters of the flesh… or the flies who like to feast on it. I love to share my knowledge and love of insects. They make up almost 90% of all animals, after all, everyone could benefit from learning more about them.” Anita was delighted by the fact that Regan came across exactly as she did online - brilliant, a bit formal, and so perfectly strange. 

The way she spoke about screaming was so fascinating. What an odd thing to say, that people had poor screaming form. Odd and compelling. “You seem to be quite versed in the art of screaming. Though I shouldn’t be surprised. You strike me as someone who doesn’t accept anything less than perfection.” The businessman exited the closet, the same stoic expression plastered on his face, and Anita took a few steps forward as the line moved up again. “It is exceptionally frustrating to be surrounded by mediocrity. Care to give me any screaming tips? Something to inspire me, perhaps?” 

---------

Recognition twinkled in Anita’s eyes, and Regan knew beyond a doubt that they were on the same page now. With identifying each other. No other page. No. Somehow, it was Jade’s fault that her thoughts tumbling in that direction. She was here on business. The screaming closet was important. And engaging in any sort of bonding with Anita was not. “I am nothing if not astute. But even if I were not, it is impossible not to notice your –” No. Back up. This was not business. “– Um, dedication.” And really, was there any finer compliment than that? 

“I find you notable.” The words were easy and true, but she realized after they left her mouth that they were, perhaps, a little “friendlier” than she’d intended. This was also Jade’s fault. Regan decided focusing on those tips was best. And she clung to them like a cadaveric spasm around a blade. “Tips from an expert. I’ll agree to that. My expertise isn’t recognized often enough.” Regan didn’t even need to think. She had heard permutations of this so many times from her grandmother. “You need to make yourself empty. How can you expect to let the scream fill you if you’re already full with needless things like hope, and emotion, and desires?” She gave Anita a cool look. “Of course, I can’t expect you to discard all of that so quickly. But try your best to not let your mind wander from what must be done.” She paused, considering. “And keep your back straight.”

Saved by the line tapering to an end. Finally, the only screamer standing between them and the closet finished up (with an unceremonious clearing of the throat that Cliodhna would have said was a sign of neglect for throat lubrication). She waddled out the door and looked furtively around the library, as if embarrassed. Good. She ought to be. That was a terrible example of a scream. It was time to correct the library’s standards. Regan turned to Anita with a raised brow that somehow managed to communicate more unamusement than amusement. “Are you ready? I expect better from you than we’ve heard from these neamh-roghnaithe. You won’t be able to match me, of course, but you are an individual of higher caliber, a cyst among calluses.” 

“You first.” Regan shot Anita a challenging look as they passed the threshold into the dimly-lit closet. Which looked rather ordinary. There were just some shelves and books and boxes. “I will allow you the honor of being my opening act. That’s something no one else can claim. Worthy of your CV, I think.” 

---------

There was a stiffness in the way Regan spoke that matched the way she came across online. Anita quite appreciated the consistency, she appreciated the fact that the other woman did not seem to try to be more or less than exactly who she was. It was impossible not to wonder if there were ever moments when she loosened up, when the formalities faded and some new exciting layer was revealed. Maybe she’d get to find out someday. “Noteable, huh? I like that. I’m glad you’ve taken note of me.”

The line moved forward slowly, and Anita paid attention to the advice that was being bestowed upon her. It was so interesting and technical while simultaneously being rather poetic. “Are those really needless things? I think one could argue that hope, emotion, desire…” she let the last word linger for just a moment as she looked over at Regan, “Don’t they all stir in a person and create the need for a deep and profound scream?” 

It didn’t take long for Anita to be standing in front of the door to the screaming closet, grinning widely as Regan called her a cyst among calluses. Not her area of scientific expertise, but she took it to be quite a compliment coming from the medical examiner. There was something incredibly alluring about how confident Regan was about her upcoming scream, it made her wonder just how much experience she had and the context for the same. “Quite the honor, indeed.” 

There was an obvious challenge in the offer, as if she was sizing up the competition before putting on her own show. And Anita loved a good show. She reached out and put her hand on the doorknob before turning back with a smile, “Hopefully I don’t disappoint.” As she crossed over the threshold into the closet, shutting the door behind her, there was a cool shiver that rushed across her body. There was a somewhat sinister feeling she was getting from the place but she was not going to let that distract her as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to prepare to release a scream.

---------

Nothing about Anita had been disappointing. But, Regan suspected, the scream that was going to come from her mouth would probably be little more than a whimper. Humans all thought they were so loud. It was no surprise. They had an inflated sense of self-importance in many other ways, too (fae? Never). The only one she gave a pass to was Jade, because everyone – incorrectly – always told her she was so loud. Sometimes, when enough people told you something, you started to believe it.

Anita’s attempt spared Regan from thinking too far in that direction. She stood tall, observing, and raised an entirely unimpressed brow. Actually, the effort was far more impressive than the scream, if it could be called that. It was too dark in the closet to fully appreciate Anita’s posture, but from what Regan could see, she did seem to be following Regan’s advice, spine nice and straight, and gave it a good try. It was the kind of thing her grandmother would never reward or even acknowledge, but it counted to Regan, didn’t it?

She did not even pretend to be pleased. “No. Not like that.” There was no point in offering specific criticism right now, when the best way to do so would be to demonstrate how it ought to be done. “I will show you. I will give everyone here the best scream they’ve ever had in their parochial lives. Consider it fabhar maith, good favor, to hear from me in this context.” No one was dying right now. A special treat for the humans. They really did not appreciate banshee vocal cords enough, usually not until they were done being able to appreciate anything ever again. “I’m extremely practiced, you see. Born for this. Screaming is more than my hobby, it is my calling. I will give them all something to strive for. Pay close attention.” Yes, that struck the balance between humble and helpful. 

Regan cleared her throat and opened her mouth, her lungs ready to sound off like bombs. Usually, when the screams came willingly, she and her lungs filled with the same eager energy, the thought of a release. And it had been a while, hadn’t it? She hadn’t been dedicating enough time to what she should be, instead spending it with – not right now. Anita’s eyes were studious over her, watching closely, and Regan was ready to blow her feet off, to become a fond, loud memory, to– except, obviously, Anita was not a banshee. The realization that wasn’t a realization smacked her frontal bone like a hammer. Okay, so maybe fae could get a little carried away in demonstrating their greatness (distinct from inflated self-importance). Anita. Was not. A banshee. Ergo, this really could blow her feet off. It could destroy the building. But her lungs had revved up and Regan had to slam her hands in front of her mouth as she tried to choke down what so itched to rise up. It was like stuffing toothpaste back into the tube. She hacked inside her mouth and stumbled a little, her back hitting one of the tight walls of the closet. 

Just when she thought she’d had it, she choked a little more and coughed up something pathetically close in decibel to what Anita had done. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, processing her shame. What was that mewling? She grimaced, glad for the darkness so Anita could not see how pale she had been stricken. “I could have done better,” Regan said quickly, defensively, her throat a little sore now (and her lungs very angry at being stifled), “I just, um, I needed to spare your feelings.” As if she ever thought about sparing anyone’s feelings. “You tried your best.” Ughk. “It was not perfect, but it would be rude of me to, uh, show you… up. Like screaming on someone else’s Lá Cinniúint– uh, birthday.” After all of her bragging, she wasn’t sure Anita would let this one go so easily. “Besides, there are better places to scream. Not in some dusty box. It would be offensive to my lungs if they were wasted in such a place, don’t you think? Yes. This is ridiculous. I am better than this.” She tipped her nose up and crossed her arms, looking sideways at Anita. “Come on, let’s leave this miserable place of whispering. There are not even any bugs here for you. A terrible library.”

---------

As Anita got into the room, prepared herself for the scream, she wondered if her attempt would be deemed worthy by Regan. In their interactions thus far it was apparent that where others may have found Anita to be rather impressive Regan never felt that way. The lack of admiration only made her want it more, made her want to push herself to earn that response. As she pushed the air and frustration out of her body with a forceful scream, part of her wondered if this was the moment she might earn that respect. It felt like a worthy scream to her, and it certainly rivaled the attempts that had been made by the others that had gone into the closest before her. 

But as Anitia left the closet and excitedly walked over towards Regan, it was clear that she had not done enough to warrant any praise from the other woman. How could she really expect to impress someone who claimed screaming was her calling? So instead she followed directions again, stood aside and watched the self-proclaimed expert go off to do her thing. There was a small part of Anita that wanted to be able to experience whatever was about to happen in her real form, so that she could see the impending scream echoing around her, dancing across all of her more enhanced lamia senses. 

That was too risky to do, unfortunately, so Anita was destined to experience it with dumb human sensations. She seemed primed to go when something strange seemed to happen, like Regan was holding herself back. The room still filled with a sound that she could practically feel despite her dulled human senses. It was louder than what she had mustered, loud enough to cause everyone in the building to look towards the closet where the sound emitted from, but not nearly as world shattering as she had almost expected it to be. Based on her own reaction, it was clearly not as impressive as Regan had hoped it would be either. 

Saving face wasn’t really her default response to most circumstances, but it was apparent that Regan was… disappointed? “That’s very thoughtful,” she responded to the obvious cover of trying to spare Anita’s own feelings. She would have happily let someone else scream louder than her, but decided not to push the situation to figure out why Regan had opted to not to show her up. Had this been someone she had a more secure dynamic with, she may have roasted them for all the shit talking that did not come to pass but ultimately she just wanted Regan to like her. “You still outshined everyone else here, so if that wasn’t even your best… color me impressed.” 

“For all a library is good for, it does seem ill suited to our interests. I bet we could find a place with plenty of space for you to scream, and plenty of bugs.” Anita liked the idea of them maybe having some other adventures together, particularly if it involved screaming and/or bugs. “These library people don’t even deserve to hear an exceptional scream after the pathetic displays they put on. You were right to save your talents. Vamos, there are better places for us to be.” She said as she started making her way towards the exit.  

---------

“Yes, um, thoughtful.” Regan really had a sweat coming on as she realized how many people might have been crushed if she’d given her pipes a good stretch. But she didn’t. She had stopped it, controlled it, even after an initial poor judgement call. A little too much pride really could be poison (a lesson she’d remember for maybe a week). Advertising a place to scream was basically banshee bait, though, wasn’t it? And there might have been something a little more at play if others felt compelled to scream here despite their obvious lack of innate skill. “All of these people believe they can change anything with their miserable little wails, but what? The world does not shake, their lives do not change.” Regan frowned at the people who were waiting outside the door as they walked by. It was hard not to feel a little small, a little stifled, when she could have done so much more and shown them all. But that was not meant for human ears, and she knew better, sense crowding out competitiveness and pride.

The librarian at the front was busy pointing groups over to the ever-expanding screaming closet line. Regan’s face soured. Each and every one of them was destined to be a failure. How cruel that humans never knew when they were slamming up against their own limitations; they kept trying and trying for the impossible. They would never be the best. So what was the point? Regan turned toward Anita as they walked out – another who tried even when she was out of her league. “I don’t think you came here for me,” Regan said, “so perhaps you can explain it.” The bulletin board near the entrance had a piece of paper with a big arrow. Screaming Closet This Way. She raised her hand to claw it off the wall, the hubris that it was, but something stopped her. Let the humans scream, she decided. It was very kind of her.

She looked back to Anita, nodding. “Better places indeed.” And for once, someone seemed to be on the same wavelength as Regan for what those better places were. “Let us go find the most writhing of maggot masses.”

[cbairdash]

Author’s note: Hoist the Colors may eventually inspire fiction. Most likely will and I’ll gladly write it. But right now, it’s a role-playing game setting with what I hope is an interesting take and look at an “Alternate History” of Earth. It isn’t really “steampunk”, though I can see how someone would get that impression. For me, it’s more a “flintlock fantasy” set on Earth of 1722 in all it’s historical mess… that I’ve stirred up even more!

So, with that said, lets get into another Creature Feature! This one is a bit different, but should give players a good challenge!

Thesaurus Crab

At first, it’s an eerie rustle of pages without any wind. Then comes the scuttling steps. After that? All you see is a swarm of books spilling off a shelf with far too many teeth. It’s a bookworm’s nightmare made real… - Professor Helia Gramwell, Zoologist for the Royal Institute of Otherworld Studies

In the wake of Crossing’s Fall, countless new creatures appeared around the world. Both large and small, they resembled ancient myths and more than a few nightmares. Then there were a strange few that refugees from Otherworld barely knew anything about. This didn’t make them any less real.

Deadly in their own right, being practically unknown made them far more dangerous. One of these misshapen monsters is the Thesaurus Crab.

Under the Shell

This crab is a bizarre blend of fungus and animal with rumors of a mystic origin. From the outside, they appear to be no different from perhaps a Dungeness crab, save for a circle of white bumps along their back. But this is just a disguise.

Unlike a normal crab, the shell of a Thesaurus Crab is leathery and slightly soft. This gives it some protection, but not the same as an actual shell. So, to combat this, a Thesaurus Crab will use an old book as a shell. They burrow inside a volume, eating away at ink and paper until they carve a space for themselves. After that, the crab uses a mushroom-like root system to attach to the book itself. Literally making itself part of the tome.

These types of crabs have six legs like their distant cousins and are covered with natural armored plate. Here on the legs, this armor is a hard shell, like any other crab. A Thesaurus Crab also has four retractable arms, all with sharp pincher claws. These four claws are serrated, which they use for defense or to catch a quick meal of fish, eel, or bird. All together, it’s a deadly combination packed into a creature no larger than seven inches across, four pounds in weight, living up to ten years.

Last of all, Thesaurus Crabs do have teeth. These aren’t in their stomach like a normal crab, but in their mouth. A Thesaurus Crab’s teeth form in multiple rows, like found in a shark, with each tooth having a noticeable point. If a crab loses one of those teeth, another one folds out fully formed, ready to fill the gap.

Beyond books and unique appendages, Thesaurus Crabs come in both a freshwater and saltwater variety. Freshwater are often a blue-white color, while their saltwater cousins are a mix of orange, red, and white. Besides color, all other parts of these crabs remain the same.

For the rest about Thesaurus Crabs in Hoist the Colors, see the link above!

Taglist: @thelaughingstag

[frankendykes-monster]

This week marks the 20th anniversary of Marcus Nispel’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, a remake of Tobe Hooper’s iconic The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Nispel’s gory and grungy slasher is hardly a great piece of cinema, but it is a surprisingly important one. Texas Chainsaw Massacre altered the course of mainstream populist horror cinema, at least for a couple of years, by ushering in an era of horror remakes. Pop culture is inevitably guided by larger trends. This is particularly true of horror cinema, where the tendency to make movies cheaply and quickly allows studios to chase popular fads. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre arrived at the end of one such fad. The renaissance in teen slasher movies sparked by the release of Scream in December 1996 was already dying down, giving way to diminishing returns like Scream 3 and Urban Legend: Final Cut along with spoofs like Scary Movie.

That late ’90s slasher fad was self-evidently nostalgic. In Scream, film nerd Randy (Jamie Kennedy) pauses a pivotal scene from John Carpenter’s Halloween to explain the rules of the slasher movie. Scream writer Kevin Williamson would go on to work on the slasher sequel Halloween H20, which would include a sequence of its characters watching Scream 2. However, there was a layer of irony and self-awareness to this nostalgia. These movies referenced classics, but stood apart from them. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre removes that layer of self-reflexive irony. It doesn’t just pay homage to one of the classics of American horror, it straight up remakes it. It reboots the franchise and starts over, as if offering a young moviegoing audience a chance to witness their version of the beloved horror movie. The gambit worked. The movie grossed $29.1 million in its opening weekend. “To say that it exceeded [our] expectations is an understatement,” conceded David Tuckerman of New Line Cinema.

Nispel’s remake had a profound impact on both the franchise and the larger industry. While many other major classic horror franchises, like Nightmare on Elm Street or Friday the 13th, tended to slow down as they entered the new millennium, Texas Chainsaw Massacre roared to life. The franchise has released more entries in the past twenty years than it did in the previous thirty, including the reboot, a prequel to the reboot, two sequels to the original, and a separate prequel to the original. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre made an even bigger impression on the horror genre as a whole. For the next seven years or so, theaters were flooded with remakes of 1970s and 1980s horror classics: Dawn of the Dead, The Amityville Horror, House of Wax, The Fog, Assault on Precinct 13, Black Christmas, The Hills Have Eyes, The Omen, When a Stranger Calls, The Wicker Man, The Hitcher, Prom Night, Friday the 13th, Sorority Row, The Stepfather, My Bloody Valentine, and many more.

Of course, trends do not exist in isolation. These remakes overlapped with a similar push to adapt Japanese horrors like Ring and The Grudge for American audiences. More interestingly, they seemed to unfold in parallel with the “torture porn” fad, which really kicked into gear with the release of Saw in October 2004 and Hostel in January 2006. Both trends seemed to be displaced by the embrace of “found footage,” and many of these remakes were notably gorier than the originals. It’s worth revisiting this trend in general and Nispel’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre in particular. There is a tendency to overlook the horror genre in discussions of popular cinema. This is most obvious when it comes to awards recognition, but also applies to general discussions of the artform. There’s also an understandable impulse to dismiss these sorts of remakes as inherently unworthy of discussion or scrutiny. Five years ago, Keith Phipps noted that these remakes were largely forgotten.

One of the more interesting – and frustrating – aspects of Nispel’s remake is the fact that it is a horror movie that exists in the context of decades of slasher movies. Tobe Hooper’s Texas Chain Saw Massacre may not have been the first slasher movie, but it was released before Halloween codified the conventions of the genre. Even watched today, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a delightfully and unsettlingly odd experience. It can seem uncanny to a viewer versed in the films that followed. Hooper’s Texas Chain Saw Massacre begins with a sense of a world that is unraveling, reflecting the chaos of the early 1970s. It begins with a news broadcast about the handing down of an indictment, an invocation of Watergate. Sally (Marilyn Burns) and Franklin Hardesty (Paul A. Partain) are traveling with their friends to visit their grandfather’s grave, following a series of desecrations in the region. There’s an apocalyptic vibe to all this, recalling George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead.

In contrast, Nispel’s remake is much more conventional in its framing. It is set in 1973, but there is no real sense that the larger world is collapsing. None of that apocalyptic dread hangs in the air. These teenage leads are not investigating a case of potential grave robbery. Instead, they are driving to a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert after purchasing drugs in Mexico. This is a standard start to a slasher like this. The teenagers transgressed, so will be punished. They broke the rules, so must die. In contrast to the irony that defined the meta-slashers of the previous few years, this is all played remarkably straight. The movie’s final girl, Erin (Jessica Biel), is entirely innocent. She is shocked to discover that her friends used the trip to Mexico as an excuse to buy marijuana. Her friend Kemper (Eric Balfour) jokes that she didn’t even drink the tequila down there. As such, Erin’s survival feels like it plays the socially conservative tropes of the slasher movie remarkably straight.

To give the movie some credit, it is at least somewhat equal opportunity in terms of the violence it inflicts on its teenage victims. In Hooper’s Texas Chain Saw Massacre, the male characters tended to die quickly while the female characters suffered longer. Nispel’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre reverses that dynamic somewhat. Pepper (Erica Leerhsen) dies abruptly in the distance, while Andy (Mike Vogel) hangs from a meat hook in place of Pam (Teri McMinn) in the original. That said, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is hardly a reconstructed slasher movie. Nispel’s camera lingers on Jessica Biel, particularly her exposed midriff. It seems to luxuriate in shots of her running and panting. It’s an approach that feels very similar to how Michael Bay’s camera would treat Megan Fox during the Transformers films a few years later. Biel may not be hanging on a hook, but there are certainly times when Texas Chainsaw Massacre treats the actor as a piece of meat.

There is a sense that the remake is revisiting the original through the lens of the decades of slasher movies that followed, smoothing down the rougher edges of the original film to make it more easily fit within an established template. This is true of most of the uninspired remakes that followed, which would take messy and clumsy original films that were figuring out what these horror movies looked like in real time, and apply a “one-size-fits-all” structure to them. These movies could be grungy and grimy. They could feature graphic gore. However, these remakes also tended to be products of a more ruthlessly efficient studio system than the films that inspired them. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre sets early scenes to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama, a song that the original could never have afforded to include. Biel and Balfour may not have been movie stars, but they are more established than any actors in the original. There is a polish to these remakes that exists at odds with the power of the original.

Notably, there is no sense of mystery or ambiguity to Leatherface (Andrew Bryniarski) in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The film offers the iconic horror villain a backstory involving horrific skin disease and even a name: Thomas Hewitt. Hooper’s original film was so scary because it suggested that this violence couldn’t be explained or rationalized. It had the logic of a nightmare. It’s very hard to replicate that sense of existential dread when so much of the appeal of a remake is the familiarity. Then again, perhaps this makes a certain amount of sense in context. As with the “torture porn” trend, these horror remakes were largely a product of the Bush era. They existed in the context of the War on Terror. This may explain why they were so much more graphic than the original, and why they tended to fixate upon torture and brutality. The War on Terror was defined by a desire to understand the horrors lurking out in the darkness, to understand, “Why do they hate us?”

Released a little more than two years after 9/11, Nispel’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre is rooted in that moment. The biggest alteration to the original narrative is the introduction of R. Lee Ermey as Sheriff Hoyt, a sadistic local law enforcement official who feels more at home in Deliverance rather than The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Hoyt is a product of the Bush era. A former governor of Texas, Bush was likened to a western sheriff when he boasted about posting “Wanted” signs in the wake of the attacks. Hoyt physically and psychologically brutalizes these teenagers. He forces Morgan (Jonathan Tucker) to reenact a suicide that the characters witnessed, pushing Morgan to place what he believes to be a loaded gun in his mouth. When Morgan resists, Hoyt handcuffs him and loads him into the back of his police car. He takes Morgan away, but not to experience due process. On the drive, he smashes a nearly empty bottle of liquor in Morgan’s face. It seems likely that Morgan is just going to disappear.

This is perhaps the most unsettling sequence in the film. It resonates with contemporary anxieties over the “enhanced interrogations” and “extraordinary renditions” that defined the War on Terror. Of course, Hoyt doesn’t have any authority to do what he is doing. In perhaps the film’s sharpest jab at the Bush administration, it is eventually revealed that Hoyt isn’t even really the local sheriff. None of this is as overt as the cultural context of Hooper’s original, but these are films of their moment. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is ultimately an underwhelming, generic, and gory imitation of a much richer film. It takes one of the most transgressive horror films of its era, and reduces it down to a standard slasher template. In doing so, it provided a sustainable model for mainstream horror over the next few years, an assembly line that could reliably churn out low-budget and low-effort films to solid box office returns.

In its own weird and grotesque way, Nispel’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre turned mainstream horror into a charnel house. It pushed away from the knowing detachment of the self-aware slashers, and embraced a more direct mode of recycling. It carved up the corpses of classic horror movies to be repackaged as subprime cuts.

[sasslett]

Get to know me!

tagged by @elveny, let's see if I can get this done before I have to get out of bed (someone play me the world's smallest violin)

Share your wallpaper: So my PC is set to cycle through my XIV screenshot folder as its wallpaper, so here's my Chromebook (where I do all my writing) and my phone (where I do all my blogging) wallpapers instead!

A lovely comm from thetictactician on Twitter on my Chromebook!

and this amazing comm on my phone from Hollycircling on Twitter, I can't believe she indulged me and went this fucking hard but she did this. In a week.

The last song you listened to: Warrior by Beth Crowley (this is such a Jess song tbh)

Currently Reading:  Ok... so... I actually haven't read any sort of published novel since... 2011, with A Storm of Crows I think? So I used to read a shit ton, but it was 11th grade and my friends were like 'You're still reading kids books? Read something for grown ups instead' (I was rereading Percy Jackson at the time, my beloved). So I gave it a try with a 'grown up' fantasy series and... fuck GoT it was awful and I decided if that's what adult literature was like, I didn't want any part of it. So I quit reading entirely.

Last Movie: Bullet Train, months ago. I don't like watching movies - I'm huge into the behind the scenes stuff, cinematography, lighting, direction, costume design etc etc so it makes it hard to watch movies when my brain won't stop analyzing and criticizing everything (honestly modern cinema is so full of people just 'sending it' for the next big paycheck, the heart is just gone). But my husband insisted I watch this one and you know what? It was actually really well made, I was impressed.

Craving: More time. More time to finish these cosplays (Twelve have mercy the con is in a week and a half), more time to write, more time to decompress. Also craving a Chromebook/laptop/portable writing device that doesn't freeze when I type more than 5 letters in a row...

What are you wearing right now: My nightgown! (still in bed) It's got penguins on it and it's fucking adorable.

How tall are you: 5'5, idk what that is in the rest of the world. Americans, y'know.

Piercings: None, but I bought some super cute Ascian earrings last year and I've been really tempted to get my earlobes pierced.

Tattoos: None, not my thing but totally cool for everyone else!

Glasses? Contacts?: Lasik! Totally worth if you can do it.

Last drink: Choccy milk (I am an adult)

Last show: Last narrative-focused show? Uhhhhhh.... I watched the first season of The Walking Dead in 2012 and I legit can't think of anything more recent. I just don't enjoy watching things much, I'd rather be doing something, and I'm such a snob when it comes to screenwriting/characters that most things just don't appeal to me. Other than that the last non-scripted show I watched was Restaurant: Impossible.

Last thing you ate: An oatmeal chocolate chip cookie my sister made last night.

Favourite colour: Wine/burgundy! That deep, dark, blood red with just a hint of purple (in case you couldn't tell since it's the color my WoL wears in every outfit)

Current obsession: FFXIV lol

Unrelated Obsession: Unrelated? I'd say writing but that's kind of related... So, horses? I mean that's just always my obsession.

Any pets: Uh... yeah. I myself have two horses. And then... we have a shit ton of cats. So in 2020 strays kept showing up at our house and then they'd have babies, eventually we managed to catch them all and get them fixed and now some of them have chosen to move in. Shelters are full all across the state, rescues and fosters are full. So now we have... 10 cats that live inside (it's a large house) and then another six/seven that are still feral outside but fixed at least. Nothing much we can do about it, but keeping them inside keeps them safe and saves the wildlife outside, too.

Do you have a crush on anyone: An eternal crush on my husband. He's just amazing. Soft. Adorable. Handsome. Perfect. Goofy. Gorgeous. Smart. Creative. Loving. So many more words. 12 years together in May!

Favourite fictional character: Assuming player characters/WoLs don't count, Elena Fisher from Uncharted. She was the first female character I encountered who was just... normal. Not a token female, not sexualized eye candy, not walking boobs without a personality, she was... a real person, a real character in her own right, whose gender didn't change who she was. And I fell in love with that back in 2007 (I was in middle school then, so it was kind of a big deal for me). She only got better as the years went by, I still love her.

The last place you traveled: Depends on your definition of 'travel'. On a literal sense probably Portland, but since both that and Seattle are practically in my backyard I don't really count those. Other than that, Philadelphia I think, for a wedding.

TAGGING! Oh so many people should do this. Off the top of my head, if you'd like to... @ainyan, @mimble-sparklepudding, @boggleoflight, @tallbluelady, @humblemooncat, @dragoon-mid-jump, @otherworldseekers, @aethericfist and now I'm out of time and have to get ready for work so anyone else who sees this! Sorry I was tagging in a hurry, I know a lot of you are character/RP blogs so feel free to ignore.

[justtluffythings]

HOME: Book 6 - CHAPTER SEVEN

MASTERLIST

“Here I am! Sorry I’m late, Quidditch practice took longer than I had expected.”

As Veronica opened her eyes, she watched as Charlie came jogging down the path towards her. She had arrived early that morning to feed Squish and spend some time lounging in the sun before Charlie arrived, but it hadn’t taken long for her to fall asleep wrapped up in one of Squish’s giant tentacles. The Giant Squid slowly unwrapped itself from around her and she stood, giving Charlie a quick hug as he approached her, and they sat beneath their tree. “How did the tryouts go?”

“Pretty great actually. We have quite a few impressive candidates to choose from.”

“Nice! That’s good because you’re going to need all the help you can get beating Ravenclaw this year.” Veronica chuckled as Charlie glared at her.

“You’re lucky I need your help with all these NEWT-level classes, otherwise we’d be dueling to the death right now.” The corners of Veronica’s eyes crinkled as she laughed, and Charlie couldn’t help but smile. He loved the way her eyes nearly disappeared; they were tiny on a good day, but when she smiled or laughed, they had no hope of being seen. It was one of the many things that made Veronica Veronica, and he loved it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know you love me.”

Charlie wished she knew just how true her statement was, but he still wasn’t ready to tell her, so he quickly changed the subject. “How did your tryouts go last night? Which positions are you trying to fill again?”

“Tryouts were okay. I need a Beater to replace Reggie and a Seeker to replace Maribelle, which are some very large shoes to fill for anyone. I think I’ve narrowed it down to two candidates per position, but no matter who I choose, they’re going to need a lot of help before they’ll be ready to play in an actual game. I really need our team to be solid this year because there is no way I’m losing to Gryffindor three damn years in a row!”

“You know, Ronnie, I really don’t know how you have time to even breathe with all the things you have on your plate. I’m not even taking half the number of NEWT classes you are and I’m struggling to keep up with the course load on top of doing Quidditch stuff. And I have so many free periods!”

Veronica shrugged. “What you’re forgetting is that I was reading these textbooks for fun in fourth year after I ran out of things to read, so none of the things we’re learning are new to me. I’ve had years to study them and practice them and ask the professors questions about them.”

“Merlin, I always forget what a nerd you are.” Charlie chuckled as Veronica shoved his shoulder and glared at him. “No, but seriously Ron, I need you to help me with Golpalott’s Third Law. I really have no clue what it’s talking about.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely a tricky one. But basically, it means that when a blended poison is created, the antidote isn’t just a mix of all the antidotes for the individual poisons found in the blend. You have to find the one ingredient that will chemically change the mixture into a whole new antidote for the blended poison…”

[batsplat]

hiii your weekly sete ask:

wow his 2005 season was really Cursed affggghjk. like what do you mean he’s 7th with 7 retirements (more than that years top 4 combined) but also is the only guy aside from valentino in top 7 to not finish lower than 5th place…..

valentino was the curse really worth it being runner up to capirossi and melandri TWICE and in a row (joking)

haha... yeah... 'retirement' in motegi... definitely wasn't so eager to seal the title at honda's home race that he made an ill-advised overtake attempt on melandri and cleared them both out... two completely unrelated dnf's... haha...

anyway!! yeah!! valentino would make that trade with you all things considered - always got on well with capirossi, with melandri admittedly you have the whole drama of melandri thinking valentino switched up towards him... but tbf you do have to say valentino was impressively dogged at keeping melandri's first win at bay for as long as possible. the six races valentino doesn't win that year are estoril (very wet, kinda just settled for second), laguna (unfamiliar with the track and would never be one he really liked, finished behind the two americans who knew the track well), motegi (crazy how we'll just never know how that dnf happened... oh well let's move on), sepang (a bridgestone-dominated weekend, sealed the title there though), turkey (hampered by a poor start) and valencia (my god is he mid there, also he tried to smash himself up before the race which I swear he does like. repeatedly at that specific circuit. guess he knows he has the off season to recover)

the way the curse shakes out is that for the rest of sete and valentino's careers, whenever they both finish a race valentino is ahead. not a single exception! not one! but the thing is, right, sete's actual finishing position of seventh in the championship in 2005 is extra cruel because it... just is not representative of how competitive he was that season? this is where it becomes useful I have my 'curse tally' notes... 2004 we've already covered, 2006 is more depressing than fun (how is your luck so bad your ambulance crashes into a bus fifty metres before the hospital entrance), but 2005? oh yeah that sete season is fucked. do you know who won the best qualifier award that year?

narrator: he did not win his home race on sunday

you can also read the qualifying prowess from the average grid positions, and it's not even particularly close. sete averages 2.82 for the season, ahead of valentino at 4.12 and hayden at 4.29. he bags five pole positions, exactly as many as valentino. his average finishing position when he actually makes the chequered flag is 3.6, the third best that year behind vale's 1.44 and melandri's 3.5. unsurprisingly, 2005 is the only season this century where the strongest qualifier does not win a single race. that just isn't a thing that happens!! it shouldn't happen!! this is not a man who was suddenly slow. he also hadn't been particularly crash-prone in his previous honda seasons... one dnf in 2003, two in 2004... and seven in 2005. a nightmare

which raises the question... okay, not winning races is one thing, but what the fuck happened to sete? if you're not just slow all of a sudden, how are you suddenly dipping from p2 to p7 in the championship standings? so. *cracks knuckles* *gets out notes* let's go one by one and tally up exactly how sete's season went wrong (parentheses used to indicate grid positions, e.g. 'g2', and finishing positions, e.g. 'p2')

jerez (g2/p2): after a feisty start, sete leads the entire race up until three laps to the end - when valentino executes his overtake and looks all set for the win. but valentino makes a mistake on the final lap that lets sete back past, and he's frantic in his attempts to correct the error... it looks like sete might have this one won, until valentino steals it from him at the last corner, barging him aside with one foot off its peg. (more on the final lap here.) valentino's victory, immediately controversial, is followed by various post-race theatrics as the spanish crowd voice their displeasure and valentino rubs it in their faces. on the way to the podium, valentino breaks the fourth wall to mock sete for clutching at his shoulder - which he is then forced to walk back in estoril as it turns out sete had actually been injured (clips here). more on this, from broadbent's 'ring of fire':

(details of the gresini/zerbi dispute included below the cut)

estoril (g2/dnf): an increasingly wet race - conditions in which sete has always been excellent in (first 500cc race was won in the wet too). sete's shoulder is still injured from the jerez collision and he'd crashed that weekend already, but he leads comfortably at the start... it's always tricky to be in the front in those conditions and he ends up crashing out of the lead in lap 16 out of 24. would valentino have been so comfortable settling for the podium if sete had still been in the race?

shanghai (g1/p4): another wet race, this time at a new circuit. perhaps sete's confidence was dented by estoril, or perhaps he just wasn't quick enough in the conditions. he doesn't get the ideal start from pole, though he briefly runs ahead of valentino - before vale overtakes him and disappears into the distance. for most of the race, sete runs second, until eventually wildcard jacque overtakes him. with a few laps to go, sete's suddenly losing speed... it looks like he's dealing with some kind of mechanical issue and he's shaking his head down the straight. on the very last lap, his teammate melandri overtakes him for the final podium position. after the race, sete said he had already felt on the warm-up lap that something was wrong with his tyre, and that it was all he could do to minimise the damage and coax the vibrating tyre to the end

le mans (g4/p2): sete had won the two previous races at this track, beating valentino on the final lap in 2003 and extending his championship lead in 2004. this year, both sete and valentino get quite a poor start, and exit the first few corners seventh and sixth respectively. valentino starts his charge to the front before sete does - and sete's progress stalls for a bit when he makes an absolute hash of one of the chicanes. eventually, valentino is on the rear tyre of his teammate edwards, but takes his sweet time overtaking him.... sete hunts them both down, firing in lap records as he muscles his way to third, and valentino is quickly informed of just who is catching him. valentino overtakes edwards, but edwards quickly gets him back - which opens the door for sete, who slips past for second. the three once again converge and valentino eventually manages to get sete back. edwards runs it a little wide and valentino squeezes past, with sete able to take advantage of the open door to get through too. they quickly gap edwards and as sete stalks valentino, the commentators hype up the prospect of revenge, of 'payback time'... valentino takes a new circuit record on the final lap to hold sete off. he extends his hand for sete long enough that sete eventually acquiesces - in doing so affording valentino a courtesy his rival had not extended to him at sepang the year before

mugello (g2/dnf): this time last year, the first public cracks of the valentino/sete relationship were just starting to show. but a fight for victory between the two of them was not to be this time round. sete keeps p2 off the line; after some opening lap scrapping that includes a valentino overtake, sete is still in p2. then his teammate melandri rudely forces him wide while overtaking, so that sete briefly drops back to fourth - before muscling his way past capirossi and into third. he tussles a bit with biaggi... but ends up crashing on lap five. it already feels like curtains on any championship aspirations

catalunya (g1/p2): before the weekend, valentino says he believes melandri and biaggi, not sete, will be his main championship rivals. sete starts on pole, with valentino likewise on the front row. valentino gets a somewhat poor start... by the end of the first lap he's back in the mix at the front. the first few laps are frantic, with melandri leading most of them and making his teammate's life, uh, unpleasant - but eventually both valentino and sete make their way back and break away from the field. soon after, sete gets past valentino and leads the race. for a while, it looks like he's breaking away from valentino just a little... eventually, it becomes obvious valentino has just been biding his time. with three laps to go, vale eases past down the main straight into the braking zone of turn one, and immediately proceeds to destroy sete's circuit record on dying tyres. he wins the race fairly comfortably from there

assen (g2/p5): juan martinez, sete's crew chief, is taken ill on thursday with a migraine. he recovers to come back to the box on saturday, but unsurprisingly the team is on the back foot as a result. (remember, martinez used to work for valentino, and he is someone valentino explicitly blamed for what happened at qatar 2004.) sete starts reasonably well from the front row, second early on behind his teammate melandri before eventually falling behind hayden. meanwhile, valentino has gotten a typically atrocious start and gave himself a bit of work to do. sete eventually makes his way back past hayden - but unfortunately lets valentino through too. at the end of the seventh lap, valentino gets past sete at his beloved final chicane. after that, valentino goes on to win the race while sete languishes in fifth

laguna seca (g13/p5): sete executes a strong comeback ride, besides losing a duel to biaggi which I suppose is a new low. but the main thing I have to bring in at this juncture is one of my favourite sete's moments. this is from broadbent's 'ring of fire' again, in the context of the re-introduction of laguna to the calendar and the discussions around that. just remember that valentino has been tormenting sete for like, over half a year, and sete has not lashed out at valentino once publicly. but here... he finally snaps - and takes it out on the real enemy: marco melandri

quick friendly reminder that melandri was sete's teammate that year

donington (g2/dnf): the race is held in truly appalling conditions. sete - who, remember, was a known wet weather specialist - takes the lead early on. he crashes on the third lap, one of ten riders not to finish the race. after wobbling about in the front-running pack for most of the race, valentino eventually takes the lead before pulling comfortably clear. he mimes playing the violin while crossing the line; this was interpreted by some as mockery of his less fortunate rivals, which valentino refuted

before the race, valentino took another opportunity to twist in the knife:

"when I see gibernau I always want to arrive in front of him" uh huh

sachsenring (g2/p2): valentino had quite a few problems with his bike that weekend, with a tricky build-up to the race. initially, hayden gets the holeshot, as valentino starts piling up the pressure and sete gets stuck in traffic. but the race is red flagged - and while hayden again gets the holeshot at the restart, valentino quickly disposes of him and sete soon does likewise. sete swiftly overtakes valentino ("'take that', said sete gibernau, 'I mean business'" says one of the commentators) and leads from there, with valentino in hot pursuit. for a few laps, valentino ends up behind hayden - and once he gets past him again, he's seven tenths down on sete with six laps to go. valentino closes in and on the very last lap, sete goes wide into the first corner, letting valentino through

always thinking of the suggestion valentino was intending to overtake sete at exactly the same place he had been overtaken in 2003 (from here):

brno (g1/dnf): despite the summer break in between (where sete reportedly did a lot of training), this might as well have been a direct continuation of the previous race. sete leads out front as valentino determinedly muscles his way into second place so as to not let sete escape. on the very first lap, valentino overtakes sete - in a section of the track where sete was planning to overtake capirossi if capirossi got the holeshot (more on how forthcoming sete was being to the commentariat here and here, icl when I replied to those asks I didn't remember quite how bad it was). on the third lap, the two exchange a few overtakes, and then it's sete in front. valentino makes a mistake to give sete a bit of breathing room and almost let the pack swallow him up, but he escapes again to get on sete's tail. around halfway through, valentino takes the lead - and then, with just over four laps ago, valentino deliberately slows down and practically invites sete to go past, before slotting back in behind him. valentino takes the lead at the final chicane of the penultimate lap, setting the stage for a final lap showdown, except sete is beginning to lose touch... and then he slows down. sete has run out of fuel

japan (g7/dnf): all eyes on valentino - who starts from eleventh for his first matchpoint race - as he starts making his way through the pack. on the first lap, valentino's already made his way past sete for sixth. tragically, all footage of the race after this point was erased so we will simply never know what valentino got up to after this point in time, but sete reportedly crashed on lap eleven. "gibernau's wretched season continues, when will it end for sete gibernau... it's almost a year now since valentino rossi put that witch's curse on him at qatar and said he would never win another race, you've got to wonder..."

sepang (g2/dnf): as the riders storm down to turn one, sete and hayden make contact and barely keep their bikes upright - sete is knocked down to sixth. valentino ends up right behind him on the first lap once again, but gets stuck behind him for a little longer as sete works his way past hayden... before sete and nakano go down when the former attempts to overtake the latter on lap two. "sete gibernau's appalling season continues...." - sete begins to walk off before sinking to his knees in despair

qatar (g2/p5): back to the place where it all started. sete deploys some feisty riding to keep that second place off the line against both valentino and hayden. he takes the lead from capirossi on the third lap and valentino takes advantage to immediately force his way into second - ready to exert pressure on his enemy. but sete builds up a healthy advantage as his teammate melandri increasingly puts pressure on valentino. melandri and valentino exchange overtakes as sete's advantage ebbs and flows, eight tenths at one point while his two rivals tussle. could this really be the "resurgence of sete gibernau"? with six laps to go, valentino shows his front wheel to sete, but it gives melandri the opportunity to get past. as valentino attempts to return the favour, melandri cuts off his nose and causes valentino to almost run into the back of him - payback for motegi, which makes valentino run wide and almost fall back into the clutches of hayden. it looks like it will be a fight between the two gresini riders for the win as valentino is 1.2s back, but he quickly claws his way back into contention and is helped by the gresini duo scrapping. and when melandri has another go at sete, sete runs on into the gravel... "the man who has cracked once again is sete gibernau" "and I'm sure both marco melandri and rossi are smiling under their visors" from the commentary team - valentino snatches the win once again, with sete finishing a disconsolate fifth

phillip island (g3/p5): so much for another front row start, with sete getting battered around to fifth through the first few corners and quickly being pushed down to sixth by his teammate. from there, it's an unspectacular ride to fifth, as valentino claims another victory

turkey (g1/p4): another start from pole, but melandri gets the jump on him from the start. sete puts pressure on melandri and eventually gets back past to take the lead...... and then goes wide and runs it into the gravel. he recovers from sixth to a painful fourth. "you can just imagine valentino rossi grinning, can't you, behind his visor, when he saw that happen"

valencia (g1/dnf): once again, sete starts from pole.... surely, surely he has to win one of these? valentino starts from fifteenth on the grid, which you'd have to say is as good a chance as you're going to get to catch a break from the man. sete is shuffled down to third on the opening lap but is right on the tail of melandri and hayden, setting the field's fastest lap on lap two. on lap four, sete slows down... "and the spaniard's wretched season could end in the only possible way, another disappointment at his home round and yet more misery for movistar" - an engine failure. his teammate escapes out front while sete works through his grief on the side of the track

so, having assessed the evidence in an appropriately scientific manner... well, yes. sete was kinda fucked. you have plenty of bad luck, you have races where he's simply not fast enough, you have races where valentino forces the issue and beats him in a straight fight, and then you have quite a few races where sete makes a clear 'unforced' error. it's not even necessarily the crashes that are most painful - with sachsenring, qatar and turkey standing out as real low points, times when he feasibly could have had valentino (as well as his teammate, who he also dislikes) beat. his wet weather dnf's will also have been a bitter pill to swallow, as well as valentino's lovely habit of snatching circuit records as he pulls clear from sete right at the end of races. and all the while, valentino is happy to taunt him with his failures, reminding sete again and again of how he is no longer the challenger he once was. all the while, the narrative of the curse gathered momentum, ever more likely to make its way back to sete. with every failure, the pressure grew. there's got to be at least ten races where sete on pace could have been in victory contention, five races where he bags pole, fourteen front row starts... not a single actual win. and that's how you put together a curse, kids

here's the gresini/zerbi dispute:

Movistar Honda team manager Fausto Gresini sent an open letter to the media on Thursday night in response to a private letter sent by FIM President Francesco Zerbi to MotoGP riders Valentino Rossi and Sete Gibernau following last weekend's clash during the Jerez race. Mr Zerbi´s letter had invited the riders to reflect upon the incident, and to remain as positive examples for all MotoGP fans - asking them to fight fairly and without will of revenge. The FIM President also wrote that he didn't see any infringement to the rules, but stressed that this kind of situation shouldn't be repeated. The comments made by Gresini were: "I fully agree with President Zerbi about the fact that sportsmanship is the most important thing. There's no room for bitter feelings between two great riders, but in the meantime, I'm still perplex." "In this letter, Sete and Valentino are treated equally as if Sete had some responsibility in the facts, and I can't agree with that. I believe there is a contradiction when the FIM president writes 'there isn't anything to reproach you for from a legal point of view', and then warns that what happened in Jerez must not occur again." "It means that we're still far from a situation where all have equal rights, in a sport as dangerous as ours," concluded the Italian manager. [here is the presidents response]: Dear Mr Gresini, I should not respond personally to your open letter given to the press, but through the intermediary of my lawyers; however, considering that I subscribe to the rules of courtesy and that I believe private life is a right that no-one can deny, I am not going to enter into a controversy - an easy one given the ridiculous arguments in your letter. The only thing that I want to stress and which, as a man, mortifies me is that I am mistaken in my judgement of men. And that I say on an individual level far more than on an institutional level. With much bitterness, Francesco Zerbi FIM President NB: I am sending this letter to the press because your employee, by violating all principles of education, more so than of law, did not hesitate to betray the confidence that had been granted to him.

like "with much bitterness" why is everyone in this sport so dramatic. what was everyone on this year

[eternalmayfly]

🔧Peace Through Superior Fire Power

Here it is! I finally put it down into words. It's a bit of a jumbled mess of random thoughts and I apologize for that but here is the story of my S/I Seven and Vash. Please let me know what you think about it! How she feels about Meryl, Milly and Wolfwood are also mentioned in here. This post is ok to reblog!

CW: Mentions of alcoholism, blood, wounds, mentions of sex. Ask me to tag if you need anything tagged!

Seven’s story before meeting Vash:

Seven grew up in a large family with 12 other siblings. Due to the large size of her family, she was very reclusive. Most of her time was spent reading or tinkering to keep away from loud, screaming children. It should be noted that despite this, she adores her family above all else. Her family means the world to her. She left home at 16 to pursue an internship as an engineer in Augusta. She left without taking much money with her, so Seven was really scraping by on the small amounts of commission she got from her internship or taking up random jobs around the city. At one point, her desperate jobs cost her her eye, which she replaced with one she created herself.

Their first meeting and beyond:

Since everyone on Gunsmoke knows "Vash the Stampede," she was well informed on all the rumors about him. Much like everyone else, she believed there was no way a single man could actually reduce an entire city to ashes in one night and assumed all rumors about him were exaggerated. It wasn’t until her mentor told her about the custom gun that the "Humanoid Typhoon" carries that she became interested. While everyone else was after him for the $60 billion dollar bounty, she wanted that gun. So when Vash the Stampede rolled into town, she took her chance and made off with his gun. Of course he noticed instantly and chased her down until she gave it back, but that didn’t stop her. Seven is incredibly stubborn. Despite giving his gun back, she attempted this multiple days in a row. After the 4th time, Vash had enough and was about ready to hand her over to the sheriff, but the two of them struck a deal. Vash would let her study his gun, and in exchange, she would repair it.

Seven did such an excellent job at repairing it that Vash was thoroughly impressed. Most people he took it to would complain it was too complex to repair, but she had it back to normal in record time. Another deal was agreed upon with them where he would bring her parts from his trips and she would fix his gun every time. It worked in Seven’s favor, as Vash would often bring large hauls back with him, meaning she didn’t need to spend money on spare parts.

This exchange lasted for a couple of years while the two became friends. Seven thought it strange that she continued to grow but Vash never changed in appearance, but she chose not to question it. Her hard labor and simple joy of drinking spiraled into a bit of a drinking problem for her once she turned 21. Vash would often bring a bottle of whiskey with him as well as parts for payments, and she would chug the whole bottle in an hour.

It started to change between them when Vash drunkenly stumbled into her home one day. He was drenched in blood, and his coat was torn in multiple places. He was so wasted that she couldn’t understand a single word he said. She quickly took him in and roughly patched up his wounds to the best of her ability using torn cloth and alcohol. Seven was very aware that Vash had no one else to turn to. Anyone would kill him for the price on his head. This was the first time she saw just how badly scarred he was. Seeing multiple chunks of his flesh simply missing made her gag, but she held strong once she saw Vash look violently insecure about all of it. It was the first time they had a real heart-to-heart where Vash talked about his refusal to kill anyone, the reasons why he can’t stop moving, and the things that scared him. Seven listened to all of it, and on that day she realized all the rumors about "Vash the Stampede" really were overdramatic. She saw Vash for who he really was: A "man" who wants to protect everyone on the planet and spread a message of peace and equality.

Their meetings started turning from gun repairs to simply hanging out. She offered her home as a safe place for him to stay when he wanted a break from being on the run. During this time, she was introduced to Meryl, Milly, and Wolfwood, with whom she became good friends. Wolfwood and her butt heads a bit, but she was thankful there was someone out there looking out for Vash. Vash had made it clear that Seven was never allowed to go with them, and she was okay with following this rule. She knew how dangerous it was to follow him around, and she wasn’t ready to risk her life like that.

One night when Vash visits alone, the two of them get a bit too drunk, and it gets handsy between them. They end up sleeping together, and it makes things a little awkward between them. Seven begins to realize she has feelings for Vash, but Vash is terrified of commitment. They try to move past the event, but each time they hang out again, the air feels tense as their feelings for each other get stronger and stronger, even though they stay quiet about it.

Fast forward a bit, and the Augusta incident happens. Seven and many others thankfully escaped due to Vash’s vigilance in scaring everyone out of town, but as she sees the town reduced to ashes in the distance, she’s horrified to know Vash is still in there. Seven, Meryl, and Milly were all forced to watch in horror, not knowing if Vash was even alive anymore. She chose to go with the insurance girls, as her home had now been destroyed and the man she was in love with was now missing.

The three temporarily settled down in Jenora Rock. During this time, Seven’s mental health started to spiral. Vash was hated even more, as not only had he leveled a second city, but he blew a hole into the 5th moon. Every Time she walked outside, someone would be gossiping about Vash, usually in a nasty manner. Her drinking problem became much worse because of this. Meryl and Milly would often find her passed out in the streets in the middle of the night after drinking her sorrows away.

Despite her drinking problem, she was able to get herself a small home and a job in Jenora Rock, making it her new home. A while after settling in, Milly brings her a letter from Wolfwood in which he says he has something she’s going to want to see. Seven is fearing the worst—that Wolfwood found something that signified Vash was dead.

What she didn’t expect was for Wolfwood to knock on her door late one night, bringing with him a man with long blonde hair and a scruffy beard. As soon as he greeted her, she knew it was Vash. She threw herself at him and punched him as hard as she could in the stomach (making him double over in pain), but then proceeded to hug him and cry as hard as she could.

She hurled insults at him while he held her and comforted her. Wolfwood left to give them room and speak with the insurance girls.

From there, Vash tells her the truth about him. That he’s not human, that his brother is after him and all the humans, and that he has to stop him. He talks about how, after the Augusta incident, he spent the time living a hidden life as a man named Eriks because he wasn’t ready to face the world. Unfortunately, Wolfwood wasn’t going to let him keep that peaceful life, but he knew it was for the best. He realizes from the obscene amount of empty beer bottles that Seven’s drinking problem had worsened while he was gone.

Seven is normally closed off, but already tipsy and shaken by Vash’s reappearance, she spills her guts. She’s nearly in tears the entire time, insulting him for leaving all of them unaware if he was alive or not. The way she speaks causes Vash to break down as well. He admits the same feelings but keeps saying he’s scared because people who get close to him always get killed. The two have lots of back and forth with tears, laughter, and stories before they end up sleeping together once again.

After it, they hold each other, and that’s where their relationship starts. Vash keeps the harsh ground rule that she is never to follow him or get in his way, and she agrees. All she knows is that when he holds her, she sees some happiness form in his dark, cloudy eyes, and all she wants to do is give him the life she knows he deserves.

He’s more than "Vash the Stampede" or "The Humanoid Typhoon." He is a broken man, backed into a corner by the world.