#spike is a wonderful name for a butch

[raziraphale]

every once in a while that really lesbian song from the cowboy bebop soundtrack will come on shuffle and every time I'm like wow... she stole her car... along with her heart.... love wins even when it loses... twangy guitar noises </3

[arcanemoody]

WIP Word Search Game, Take 2!

The thing about having a reall l o n g project is that I was inevitably finding the words all came from the same wip. So here’s extracts from that where the words loud, hard, frown, hold, joy and red appear. A little steamy so check below the read more.

Tagged by the wild and wonderful @esperata

tagging, if you want to, @basilintime @augustjustice @chierei with the words blue, trim, soft, murder, and jump.  Most of these are from the college AU series, all of them are Riddlebird/Nygmobblepot.

==

red:

He has to go home sometime. His steps are slow and heavy as he makes his way there.

Ed‘s not sleeping. And he’s not alone.

"I told you that—"

"I said no, Izzy."

Oswald sees red, letting the door slam shut behind him. "And 'no' is a complete sentence. Get the hell out of my room before I call your sister, ding-dong."

--

hard, hold:

Oswald’s hand is in Ed’s lap. Exhibitionism here too, playing it slow, seeing if he can keep Ed hard for the full 90 minutes of the movie. He wants to see if he can get him to hold his hand as they walk all the way back to the dorm, a stiff hard-on perfectly outlined by his cords.

--

loud:

“Lean forward, you Ent. I need to start on your pants.” Ed obliges, crouching just low enough for Oswald to kneel on the floor, finally sitting with his knees bent as he hooks the seam ripper at his ankle and moves upward, slowly. “…you’ve read Lord of the Rings," he says, the thought tickling something inside him. “I’ve read ever book in that library at least twice.” Ed laughs out loud this time. “God, it’s been a long year,” he sighs, feeling the cold edge of hysteria creeping in. -- frown:

The "referral" is a nasty surprise, particularly when he came to the health center to top up his cold meds after his pneumonia cleared up.

"After you fainted and fell off the Pier," the grad student cosplaying as a licensed therapist posits thoughtfully as she scribbles on her notepad. "That was an accident, was it?“

Oswald frowns at the memory; dark and blurry, blunted by alcohol and denial. Butch had pulled him out, Ivy had given him CPR, and he’d apologized for ruining the last few hours of her prom night… not the plan he’d had in mind for her first college rager.

"If it wasn’t, I’d be in a 5150," he glares at her. "Not talking to you."

"Don’t be so sure." --

joy:

"No. Mentioning no names but pegging tended to be something more girls were into than guys.”

“Sofia, right?” he glances up at his scowl. “You didn’t say that I couldn’t mention names.”

There’s a flicker of jealousy there – which is gratifying now that Oswald knows what to look for. Here, it might be the only thing that makes that memory bearable.

“…we were friends. Or so I thought. I told you I tend to enjoy it more if I at least care about the other person.” He pauses, considering. “We can place her just below Jim Gordon on my long ladder to hell.”

Ed kisses his brow, his temple, his cheek, long arms folding him in tightly against his chest and Oswald feels the cold spikes receed as joy blooms in his chest at the warmth of big hands and soft, fierce lips.

[valeskakingdom]

Surprise (part 33)

Some time went by and Oswald already had a new plan: He wanted to look for Barbara Kean. Why? He told no one, he just said he had something special in mind and he did everything to fulfill his plan. With Scarlet and Butch he went through whole Gotham City to finally find her in a little cafe, sitting there all so along sipping on her latte macchiato as if it was just a normal day of life. She wa surprised about Oswald's sudden visit, maybe even a little annoyed, but she let him talk. He told her he had something special in mind, a plan that would change whole Gotham city, a plan where everyone could profit from - whether it true was a different thing. He though told her, he wouldn't give present all the detail now - just if she came with him. Barbara was thinking, it could be true but it could also be a trap. However, Barbara also knew that Oswald wouldn't dare setting her up, he knew what she was capable of. She would probably kill him if she found out - and so she agreed. She walked with him to his residence to see what he had in mind. She took it as a little joke, she wasn't really serious when he told her she could be a big part of it and such. She knew he loved to exaggerate certain things especially when he tries to convince someone. She even dared to ask Scarlet behind Oswald's back in the hope to get some information, but she was no help. She didn't know a thing either - so they both wondered what did Oswald want to do?

***

"Here?" Oswald asked when he turned his step mother's spiked head to the center.

"A little bit too central, maybe?" Barbara said questioning "You don't want one peace to overpower the room. Try over there"

"Don't! It's perfect right there. It doesn't overpower the room, it just shows Oswald's power and triumph." Scarlet crossed her arms with a frowned look at her.

"You have no real taste in interior design." Barbara spoke down to Scarlet. She didn't forgot how much she hated her over the time they were absent. She hated her from the first day she met her in Arkham. She would have loved to tear all her hair apart from her head and kill her the slowliest way that was possible because she knew this girl would cause problems.

"Neither do you have" Scarlet muttered giving her a death glare. Barbara was probably the one she hated most on earth besides her parents. Even though she was not herself when she met her first, she knew she would hate her. Just hee appearance made Scarlet aggressive.

"Ladies, please" Oswald interrupted their cat fight when he grabbed the head and placed it on the table right in front of the window "You're absolutely right" he cheered with a huge smile "See, I told you she'd be useful. Isn't that better?"

"Interior design ain't my thing" Butch mumbled, giving Scarlet a look that said 'help me out of this', but Scarlet gave him a look that told him no. He had to get out of this on his own.

"News on the hour with WTGC." You suddenly heard the newscaster on radio "Police sources say that reports of an impending raid on Arkham Insane Asylumand its controversial chief, Professor Hugo Strange, are inaccurate. Despite the disclaimers, flurries of police activity around the troubled facility have fueled-..."

"Hugo Strange..." Oswald grumbled, inhaling deeply "How interesting." Then he looked at Scarlet, Barbara and Butch "Wouldn't it be interesting to know a little more what's going on in Arkham? Barbara, I'm sure the GCPD already does some investigations already. Would you mind paying our friend Jimbo a visit?"

"Not at all" Barbara smiled "I haven seen him in a while. I miss him deeply." Then she looked at Scarlet with an sarcastic smile "At least I can pay my little lover a visit and don't need to mourn him."

"At least my 'lover' accepts me for who I am and doesn't leave me right after he found out I'm crazy and doesn't look for a new love" God, Scarlet hated it what someone, especially Barbara, talked about Jerome like that. Just mentioning the name was driving her insane. The Name 'Jerome' wasn't filled with love, happiness and other stuff - oh no. It was cursed with rage, madness, fury, sorrow and sadness. She wished never to hear that name anymore, she wished to the name dies with all his memory of Jerome.

"Ladies, please, composure" Oswald warned them "We're not here to argue. We're here to-..."

"Oswald shut up!" Scarlet almost yelled at him in anger. She couldn't hear his stupid babbling anymore of being a group, they need to pull on the same string and bla bla bla. Someone had to say something, Scarlet wasn't there to hold everything back "This is a thing between me and her! Stay out of this!"

"Ohhhh, since Jerome is gone you think you're the one with the balls here." Barbara chuckled, nodding slowly "That's typically you. Always need to be the boss - but you're not!"

"Oh, and what now? You're looking for trouble?" Scarlet slowly walked to Barbara with an almost insane look in her face "If you're here to get on my nerves, to mock at me - fine. But," She started to squeeze Barbara's throat tight that Barabara started to have problems with breathing "if you dare to mention his name, to mock at him or to even have a bad thought about him, I'm gonna kill you. Imma tie you up, rip your organs out and choke you with them while bleeding out."

This just made Barbara chuckle. Scarlet was good indeed, but Barbara was better - that's what she thought at least.

"Oh, you find that funny?" Scarlet grinned almost maniacally, suddenly pulling a knife out "You know what I find funny? Seeing you dead" In this moment she wanted to stab Barbara in her stomach when Oswald fast grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Scarlet!" Oswald started to stammer "I know it's outrageous of me interrupting you b-but I plead you, don't do this right now. I didn't ask Barbara to come to be killed. I asked her to do us a favor to help us. She's our friend"

"She's your friend, not mine." Scarlet hissed, taking the knife down "You won't hold me back from killing her another time though. I'm destined for killing her."

"I-I uhm..." Oswald didn't really know what to say. He couldn't stop her, but saying a word would be wrong either. Scarlet wouldn't listen to him at all, she would probably just mock at him and laugh about him "Barabara, would you please...?" Oswald motioned his head to the door signaling her to leave.

"Sure Ossy," Barbara smiled, then giving Scarlet a death stare before leaving the Cobblepot residence to make her way to the GCPD.

"God, I hate that woman," Scarlet muttered with some certain pinch of disgust when she followed Barbara's footsteps to the door "She's slippery and a fucking snake in the grass."

"Remember, she's here to help us. We need her" Oswald tried to calm Scarlet down with his words "She's here to-..."

"She's here to help you, not me" Scarlet muttered and started walking away from Oswald in annoyance "I need a drink"

***

"Hey, Penguin, so it turns out our Mr. Strange is a very bad man. The police are on to him now. They figure he's planning to run, but he won't, thanks to me." You heard Barbara talking to Oswald through the phone. What did she mean by that? He won't planning to run thanks to her? What did she do to him? Never mind, Scarlet thought rolling her eyes in annoyance. All she wanted was to finally come to an end with Oswald's mysterious plan that she wouldn't need to see Barbara anymore.

"Thank you Barbara. You have pleased me." Oswald smiled, hanging up the phone "Saddle up Butch, Scarlet. We've got an old friend to catch."

"You've got the bazooka?" Scarlet frowned asking him.

"Much better," Oswald smirked.

***

It was time - time to finally get rid off Dr. Hugo Strange. It would all finally come to an end, the experiments, the electroshock therapy, the torture... everything will be gone sooner or later. But to their luck, it was not only them. The GCPD was trying to catch him, too. They found out how bad he really was, they found out about his experiments and all - he was no good doctor from next door, he was the real psychopath, he was the one that had to be getting caught.

So right now, Scarlet, Butch and Oswald stood with some other men near the bridge and waited, they waited for Hugo Strange to come with a car in fact he actually wanted to run away from the police. You could say the little trio was the icing on the cake for Hugo Strange. He actually could just pray the police finds him first because if not, he'll get the shock of his life.

"You really think he's gonna drive along this street? I mean, we're just standing here and nothing happens." Scarlet scoffed, crossing her arms with rolling her eyes. She was annoyed, annoyed of the situation. They've been standing there for more than 2 hours and nothing happened. It was quiet on the street, not even a bird was chirping. All you heard was the water how it was whooshing and the people around her were breathing, including Scarlet.

"He has no other choice. The cops have blocked all alleys that there's no way out except this street here. He definitely will drive through this street," Oswald explained "And when he does he won't see my beautiful surprise coming." He chuckled.

"Uh huh," Scarlet nodded slowly, not really convinced of that all "If he does then he should please hurry up. Imma become a little impatient." Scarlet looked around in the hope to see a car driving by - but there was none. The street was still empty and quiet.

"Wait, Scarlet, be patient," Oswald instructed her "He will come when the time is right."

"You and your fucking philosophy" Scarlet rolled her eyes muttering. But suddenly they all heard noises, noises that sounded like a car - Oswald had to be right. Hugo Strange took the street to escape. The noises came from both sides, the back and the front. Suddenly they heard the horns honking - the police had to be on its way, Hugo Strange had to be near them either. They all looked around looking whether the cars came nearer as who came first?

"Time to shine my friends," Scarlet sang when she saw the police car rushing through the street, and as if someone snipped with their fingers, The bus with Hugo Strange came too, rushing right in the police car's direction. It seemed like they were about to crash - for Scarlet it was marvelous, the mor chaos the better. The more blood, the better. The more screams, the better - the more of everything, the better.

The cars drove faster and faster, the didn't even think of using the brake, it seemed like they even wanted to let it crash, but was that really Hugo Strange? In the past he didn't seem have such an insane side, he was much calmer, had a clear thought. Also his actions weren't abnormal at all. He was either observing or writing or walking through the asylum if yes he was a master in hiding it - and then it happened. The bus crashed the police car while Butch and the rest of the bunch started shooting at it with the rapid shot gun - he even almost hit the driver - and the bus tilted side wards. It was loud, parts of the cars flew in the air, the police car was completely damaged by the heavy collision, smoke even rose up out of the engine which showed the bus was totally damaged - this was the chance for Oswald, Scarlet and Butch. Hugo Strange wouldn't have a chance to escape now, it's done.

"Professor Strange!" Oswald yelled, grinning with a devilish smile on his face "Professor Strange! Come out!" He walked nearer to the bus "Strange, we need to talk! You did a very bad thing to me, as to Scarlet. And now you're going to pay!"

Everyone remained quiet though - they were shocked. It couldn't be real what they saw, could it? How was that possible? This person died long time ago! Or did they survive? No, it couldn't be, they all saw them dead!

"Impossible!" Oswald gasped in shock. It couldn't be real! Fish Mooney, his old boss and somewhat friend who though treated him like dirt. She was a selfish bitch who always behaved like she was the coolest girl in the hood, as if everybody loved her.

"Nothing is impossible," Fish tutted, and with these words Oswald passed out. He couldn't handle it, he couldn't handle the fact that Fosh was alive. He suffered from living the same hell again as in the past. He suffered from the thought being treated like a butler again, being laughed at, being mocked at. He suffered from losing all he had, all he has built up in that time she was absent.

"Gosh, he's such an idiot" Scarlet mumbled making a facepalm. He was just making a scene again. He was such a pussy.

"Holy..." Butch couldn't believe it either when she really walked towards them. Was that really her? He wasn't sure whether he should be happy or not. He indeed had enjoyable moments with her, but there was always a negative side. He also knew how it is to be treated like a slave or a butler with no opinion.

Men started clamoring, also Butch because he decided to see her as something he didn't want to experience again - and so he ran away with all the other men who feared Fish Mooney deeply. There was just one human being who decided to stay - it was Scarlet. She didn't fear Fish Mooney, she didn't even know her. She just heard some things here and there but all in all, no. And since she was no fan of being judgmental, she took the opportunity to get to know her. Maybe she was the next opportunity to gain fame and power? Who knows?

"And who are you, little one?" Fish Mooney walked towards Scarlet with a smile "I sense something that tells me you're it. You're the one I need to rebuild my empire."

"Is that so?" Scarlet frowned with a slight smile on her face "How do you know I-..."

"Nuh uh uh," Fish tutted placing her index finger on Scarlet's lips "My feeling never gets me wrong, darling. I know when I see a person with potential to be an authority. Tell me your name."

"Scarlet. Scarlet Patel."

"Mhm" Fish smiled "I've heard about you. You're Gotham's prodigy." She stroke Scarlets cheek with her thumb slowly, admiring her face. She was a beauty indeed, even with her damn scar. And beauty was one of the things Fish was looking for.

"I wouldn't compare talent with prodigy." Scarlet chuckled "A talent is a mix of passion and certain potential. It has nothing to do with a wonder on earth. Either you're made for it or not."

"So so clever in a young age," Fig smiled, squishing Scarlets cheeks a little "You are a real prodigy, my child. You deserve more than a little limping man with megalomania. Come with me"

"What? You wanna guarantee me fame and popularity? That whole Gotham City will fear me? Nah, I'll pass." Scarlet chuckled shaking her head "I'm tired of these empty promises" She turned around "But maybe I'll come back to that offer. See you around"

And she left.

[the-covens-headmate-inspo]

Hihi!! Can I req for the underground hedgehog trio? We have fragments who ended up splitting around the exact same timeframe and they feel connected to the three because of it, but haven’t fully formed and we were wondering if you could help? :) /genq

Name: Sonic

Age: 15

Gender: Trans male

Xenogenders: Energender, 

Pronouns: He/him

Neopronouns: ener/energy, fa/fast, sou/sound.

Species: Mobian

Sexuality: Panromantic aceflux.

Gen. personality: fun loving, carefree, cares for others, not explicitly caring most of the time but her cares, chill, laid back, fun loving, etc.

Appearance:

Primary role: energetic alter

Secondary role: ADHD holder (if you have it, otherwise: Battery)

Polyroles/any roles other than primary and secondary: Chilidogxenorole/chilidogeater (You can guess), retriever.

Boundaries: don’t mention robotnik, don’t mention his uncle (??) or his adoptive parents/caretakers, don’t take his food (especially his chili dogs)

Pet peeves: when people make fun of his siblings.

Moral alignment: Neutral good

Outif/fav. Outfit: white t-shirt, stolen jacket (belongs to Sonia), Red cargo pants, signature shoes, black hand wraps.

Source: Sonic underground.

Views on canon: pretty good on a lot of things, ended a bit too early and dragged things out.

Source vs. canon (pls specific if canon compliant): middle child, called his adoptive parent ma and pa, called Aleena (bio mom) mom/mother, found tails on the side of the road- panicked- took him home- hasn’t told his siblings.

View on source talk: It’s fine but not too much.

View on sourcemates: Well, yeah duh! Probably not Robotnik though.

View on doubles: He’s chill with ‘em.

Voice claim (actors/singers/celebrities): canon voice (alt. Movie sonic’s voice)

Pfp:

Faceclaim:

miscellaneous: plays electric and acoustic guitar. —/—\—

Name: Manic

Age: 15

Gender: Nonbinary

Xenogenders: punkgender, azazgender, beserkic, beastgender, aliengender, boggender, cryptogender, firegender, staticgender.

Pronouns: He/they.

Neopronouns: pu/punk, bea/beast, bo/bog, swam/swamp, cryp/crypto, fire/flame, stati/static.

Species: Mobian

Sexuality: Toric

Gen. personality: bold, reckless, dumb*ss, clever, street smarts, punk, anger issues, rash,brave, always stand up for what’s right- immediately, shoot first, ask questions later.

Appearance: green quills, blue eyes, pale skin. Human vers: pale skin, long messy green hair he can never quite tame and never cuts, blue eyes.

Primary role: Arsonist

Secondary role: Black sheep

Polyroles/any roles other than primary and secondary: punkxenorole,

Boundaries: don’t mess with his sibling, don’t mess with anybody really, don’t make fun of the impoverished, respect people, etc.

Pet peeves: Pity.

Moral alignment: Chaotic neutral.

Outif/fav. Outfit: black sleeveless turtleneck, cropped faded red jacket (w/ hood), Dark blue bell bottom jeans, black combat boots.

Source: Sonic Underground

Views on source: Same as Sonia

Source vs. canon (pls specific if canon compliant): Youngest sibling, has a bit of grudge against his mother, less looking for her and more ‘staying with his sibs, who are looking for her’, abandonment issues, trust issues, just wants to be safe and secure.

View on source talk: It’s fine, he doesn’t care

View on sourcemates: Definitely his siblings and Alex (Kinda a throwaway char. From one of the episodes but I like him and the two had romantic tension).

View on doubles: Just DNI.

Voice claim (actors/singers/celebrities): Canon voice

Pfp:

Face claim:

Miscellaneous: plays the drums.

—/—\—

Name: Sonia

Age: 15

Gender: Cis female

Xenogedner: dryagender.

Pronouns: she/her

Neopronouns: Nobl/noble, gol/gold, silv/silver, da/dance, gymnas/gymantics, pi/piano, reb/rebel, bo/bold.

Species: Hedgehog mobian.

Sexuality: Butch(esque) lesbian.

Gen. personality: smart, bold, big sister, brave, badass, logical, rebellious, caring, well-mannered (⅓ of the time at least, in the fancy rich people way), fanciful, punk.

Appearance: Hot pink quills, Light pink mohawk (not in the spikey way), green eyes, pale-ish skin(???? Mobian anatomy doesn’t make much sense alright?) HUMAN VERS. (just in case): Hot pink undercut (?), light pink mohawk, green eyes, pale skin.

Primary role: Proritizer

Secondary role: Processor

Polyroles/any roles other than primary and secondary: pseudoprotector

Boundaries: Don’t talk about Eggman/Robotnik, minimize conversation about her mother, don’t disrespect her siblings, her trauma is real and valid if you can’t understand that then she’s going to steal all of your furniture (/hj).

Pet peeves: When people disrespect others, when people support robotnik, when people think robotnik doesn’t do any harm, robotnik, etc.

Moral alignment: Chaotic Good.

Outif/fav. Outfit: Dark purple cargo pants, dark hot pink cropped sleeveless hoodie, black jean jacket, black combat boots, black fingerless gloves. All worn out

Source: Sonic Underground

Views on source: It definitely flattened some stuff out, didn’t go into enough stuff but fine enough on its own.

Source vs. canon (pls specific if canon compliant): Oldest sibling, also plays bass guitar, did gymnastics and ballet, manic introduced her to xenogenders/neoprouns and helped her pick some out, 

View on source talk: It’s fine but be careful about her triggers.

View on sourcemates: It’d be cool to see her siblings oe mom again but she definitely doesn’t want to see robotnik.

View on doubles: They make her pretty uncomfortable .

Voice claim (actors/singers/celebrities): Canon voice

Pfp:

Face claim:

Miscellaneous: plays bass guitar and piano.

[gatheringbones]

["I feel like I've been bamboozled!" he said to me playfully.

His face was scrambled, his eyes searched for some answer to an almost painful quandary, while his mouth remained frozen in wonderment at the being before him, a wonderment that wasn't there before I uttered the words "I'm trans."

Coming out as trans, to me, means being seen. There is no default, no accurate projection anyone can stamp on people like me who exist outside of a spectrum, occupying our own corner of a universe of genders. When I am truly seen, though at times scary and destabilizing, I often witness people as they grapple with the fact that their previously reliable perceptions and beliefs are challenged— a reminder to challenge my own unquestioned reality. Because of this, my trans incarnation is an opportune entrance point into Buddhist practice, a path that embraces a reality beyond my perception. I was eighteen when I first heard the word "genderqueer" and learned that it is one of the many delicious nonbinary words in the universe of genders that exists within a galaxy called transgender. I have found resonance with those words ever since. Despite the words I use to describe myself, however, in this body I have been seen in the world as a girl, a woman, a butch woman, an effeminate boy, and a man. When most people see me, their brain does a quick calculation of gender identifiers and, as of late, puts me in the "man" category. To many, my gender expression and body appear as "masculine," which often translates to "man," and at times even "trans man." We've been conditioned to believe that there are two real, nonchanging, dual, and discernible genders. I don't get read as genderqueer because within this limited construct, nonbinary genders may as well not exist. In my experience, gender markers carry the meaning that we ascribe to them. Anyone who identifies as a woman, regardless of gender expression, body, chromosomes, or hormones, is no less a woman than a gender-nonconforming woman assigned female at birth. I am no more or less a man, or a woman, or transgender than I was before top surgery and testosterone, or when I sport a flannel and a beard, or when I wear a sequined dress and heels. These are means that allow me to express the various genders within me. I use the prefix "trans" for myself to mean, not crossing over or changing, but going beyond.

So, when I told my colleague that I was not raised as am an and don't identify as a man, he took in my glistening red facial hair, tenor vocal range, pronoun, name, and receding hairline and bamboozlement instantaneously arose in him.

"You know," I said to him, "I don't think this, but I just want to clarify that by "bamboozled' you don't mean that I'm trying to fool you."

Apologetic and still in some state of astonishment, he answered me, "Oh, no, that's not what I mean… it's just… I-I-I mean, you have a beard!"

The word "bamboozle" has specific racial connotations— stirring up images, for some, of Spike Lee's 2000 film by the same name or his 1992 biopic of Malcom X. The word was used in these cases to mean "trick," specifically Black people being systemically tricked by white people into pacification and internalizing racism. It's important to distinguish that bamboozle has two definitions, to "trick" and to "mystify," and that intentional trickery can and does maintain systems of dominance and violence toward marginalized people. It is also important for me to believe that my coworker's bamboozlement was a mystification, rather than a deception, that arose out of a dissonance between his perception and another reality that he was faced with. "Deception" on behalf of trans people is a false accusation that has, at best, erased identities and, at worst, rationalized brutality. I don't blame my colleague for believing his perception: he was merely doing what we humans do all the time: situating his reality upon staunchly reinforced constructs— in this case, gender.

We are swimming in a sea of binary gender reinforcements that have been projected onto us since before we even left the womb. This binary is just one in a vast assortment of binaries laden with an overt— and at times covert— value system that situates one over the other: men over women and intersex people, cisgender over transgender, whiteness over Blackness and Brownness, ability over disability, heterosexuality over queerness, owning class over working class and poor, and this list goes on. Because people perceive me as white, "educated," able-bodied, and a man— among other things— I reap an enormous amount of unearned access and safety that many of my trans siblings not only don't have, but are actively, systemically denied.

Facing the vast majority of systemic violence and injustice inflicted on trans people, trans women of color have collectively paved the way for my own existence as a trans person. I owe my life and the lives of so many that I love to these women. I cannot claim to share the collective burden of transfeminine folks or trans people of color in this culture. I can, however, bow deeply to them and their offerings; I can work and practice to co-create this world as one of safety, empowerment, access, visibility, and belonging for all bodies. It is because of these women, Two-Spirit people, genderqueers, queens, and other foremothers, foreparents, and forefathers of this movement that I even have the choice to come out.

Often when I choose to come out and challenge the binary projections we place on one another, something incredibly foundational is shaken for people. It is as if gender, and the capacity to place people in their designated predetermined category, which feels solid, consistent, real, and reliable in one moment, is instantaneously turned on its head in another.

Cisgender people aren't the only ones who do this categorization on autopilot. I often find myself scoping out someone on the train or street and clocking them as trans, projecting some immediate camaraderie with them, or reading someone as a cisgender male and automatically alienating myself from them. Plenty of trans people have tucked me neatly into the box of "trans man"— a term with which I have never identified.

This is what we humans do— we categorize, and we rely on the perceived duality of self and other to secure a sense of who we think we are. This sense of what I call "gender solidity" is vital for us in knowing where we are situated in a gendered world, and where to place others. This is essential in both upholding and surviving within systems of superiority and inferiority based on gender expression and identity. Dualistic categories are the basis of the gendered self and according to the Buddha, the foundation of the self in general. Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche explained the creation of ego, or self, as using "our projections as credentials to prove our existence…. We seek to prove our own existence by finding a reference point outside ourselves, something with which to have a relationship, something solid to feel separate from." Me/you, right/wrong, worthy/unworthy, girl/boy: duality supports our proprioception. "I am this because I am not that," "I am a woman because I'm not a man." Similarly, gender solidity exists to maintain the perception of an unwavering gendered self, both in oneself and others.

But what if duality was proved to be unreliable? What if our perception was revealed to be unsubstantial? What if we allowed ourselves to be in a perpetual bamboozlement of ourselves— of the stories we create around our sensory experiences, our thoughts, our bodies, and our ideas of self? The Buddha invited us to look at these very constructs of reality, to witness them with clarity as a means of finding freedom."]

adamh roland hoeltzel, from when duality falls away: gender, self, and what’s beyond, from transcending: trans buddhist voices, edited by kevin manders and elizabeth marston, 2019

[krinsbez]

Random Transformers Thoughts

1. Y’ever think about how annoying it must be to be an architect on Cybertron? Like, you have to build all your buildings to comfortably accommodate both robot and alt-modes, people who can fly AND who can’t, not to mention the fact the scale problem; how do you design buildings when the people who will be using them can be expected to range from under five feet (or even less!) to over 30 (or more!)?

2. I may have mentioned this before, but I have this recurring notion in my head of a Transformers RTS game (are those still a thing? I haven’t played vidya or computer games in decades). I was imaging the first game would be set on Cybertron, with expansions adding additional factions, such as the Quintessons, Cybertronian Empire/The Hub, Exarchon, whatever. The second game would take place on Earth, and add a third faction in Skywatch or Sector Seven or the EDF. There'd be an expansion that also adds additional factions such as Blackrock Industries, MECH, The Machination, etc. A different expansion would add GI Joe and Cobra.

Resources would be Energon, Cybertonium, and Protoforms.

Aaand that’s all I’ve got. Anyone else have thoughts on the matter? In particular, what the factions’ different playstyles should be?

3. So, when I did my own TF fancon and decided on having all the Witwickys, I realized that we have a family composed of Sparkplug, Spike, Buster, Jack, Sam, and Butch. So, all of these? These are words (granted, Sam doesn't actually stand for Surface-To-Air-Missile, but that’s what a TF would think of). These are, for TFs, actual proper names, rather than a random combination of word-sounds like most human names. No wonder the TFs get along with them so well!

(gonna try something in the tags)

[over-under-through1]

greens headcannons greens headcannons greens headcannons greens headcannon-

Anon, thank you you’ve finally given me an excuse to make this post

HERE WE GO

Butch is BC’s bitch. there, i said it. this boy is BEYOND whipped

BC is so protective of Butch and if anyone (this includes his brothers, yes BC has told Brick off for being too much of a dick to Butch) fuck with him she’ll mess them up

Butch steals things from Buttercups bag in class until she notices cause he wants her attention likes to annoy her

before they get together Butch gets weirdly jealous when BC calls either of his brothers hot, but he doesn’t understand why (yes he does he’s just too much of a coward to admit he likes her)

Butch can rap, Buttercup dies whenever she hears it but tries to contain herself

BC is more dominate in the relationship than Butch

Buttercup once convinced Butch she could speak Italian by speaking pig latin around him and she got all of their friends and family in on the joke so now Butch just thinks she knows Italian

Butch’s nicknames for BC are Butters, Cuppy, Fire cracker, Tic tac, and Freddy Krueger. there is a story behind every single one of those names that i may share one day

Buttercup’s nicknames for Butch are Dumbass, Jack ass, Butchy Boy, Alien head, Asswipe, Spike, and Bitch. Butch will respond with no hesitation to any of the above, but if anyone else calls him those he will *intense Butch glare* at them until they feel threatened and/or uncomfortable

in my AU the Powerpuff Girls (and Rowdyruff Boys because they joined their team, thanks) have like... a fan base. i mean, how could they not? they’re famous monster fighters. so, said fan base makes art of them. and a token shirt BC wears in most of this art is the “Nut daddy” shirt. she got so much fan art of this that Butch ended up commissioning Bubbles into making it into a real shirt and gave it to Buttercup as a gag gift. she loved it. like a lot.

this fan base also makes fan fictions because once again, they’re famous so like... it’s a given. Butch indulges in reader x Buttercup fics and refreshes the Buttercup Utonium/Butch tag on AO3 at least 4 times a day

Buttercup sits on Butches lap

they’re super straight forward with their feelings, resulting in barley any fights, but when they do fight they give each other space for the day and meet up at the end to apologize. 9 times out of 10 they’ve cooled down and forgiven each other

their dates are just sitting on the couch or Buttercup’s bed watching B rated horror films, or sparring sessions

when they get together they never actually say it out loud or tell anyone, they just let people figure it out for themselves (it’s not that it’s a secret, they just don’t care about what others think of it enough to actually make an announcement). this creates a townsville betting pool surrounding the status of their relationship

the only people who know for sure are their siblings, Mitch, Mike, Robin, and Pablo but they keep their mouths shut because A.its super funny watching all of townsville freak out and B.they know it’s not their place to tell

Butch is very clingy and likes to be touching BC at all times in any way, even if it’s small. most of the time it’s subtle but if you look very carefully you can spot Butches finger sneaking its way into the sleeve of Buttercup’s hoodie

Butch and Buttercup know each other so well that they can basically read each other’s minds. yup. i’ll die on this hill, you can rip this headcannon from my cold lifeless hands

okay fine i’ll expand on it. they can’t literally read each other’s minds, they can just read each other’s facial expressions really well. Buttercup’s eyebrow raises slightly? she’s intrigued by what someone said/did. Butch’s lip twitched? he’s pissed off, time to cool down the irritable green rowdy. and so on and so fourth

i’ve said this a lot to basically everyone i know so i’ll say it again here: when they first say “I love you” they literally don’t even notice. it’s on the way out of the apartment they share as they’re about to go to class and one of them, halfway out the door, says “okay bye love you” and the other just replies “love you too see ya”. they don’t realize they said it until 3 hours later in the middle of (separate) class(es), where their heads bolt up then they just go “oh my god i- huh. okay. cool. well anyways back to school”

CHILDREN HAHAHAHA THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE HEADCANNONS

Butch and Buttercup avoid the whole “b name” thing like the plauge. they purposely don’t name any of their kids (they have three if you’re wondering) b names. but in the process of avoiding it, they get so distracted with what NOT to name their kids that they don’t even notice when they accidentally give them all J names. Bubbles and Boomer point it out while Butch and Buttercup are in the middle of making fun of them for naming their own kids all B names. this causes Butch and Buttercup to freeze then blow up, threatening to go to city hall and change their kids names

they’re the type of parents to curse around their children and Bubbles hates it

she’s outraged when their first born’s first word is shit. Buttercup and Butch just scream-laugh while the reds are in the back quietly chuckling as Boomer tries to calm down his seething wife

this was fun! thanks for the ask, maybe i’ll do the reds and blues in the future (also sorry if some of these seem off, it’s 2am over here and i’m tired)

[huntsman-ash]

RWBY LiveThoughts: Episodes 8 and 9

So I missed last weeks episode since I got busy with stuff (school mostly, basic bitch busy day and all) so here’s two for one.

Gotta say, Im interested to see where this is going...

So something I missed the last few episodes; the final shot of the opening has the words “happily ever after” turn into “happy never again”, which I am both trepitided by and also intruged.

Cut to the jail cell AGAIN...Schnee’s looking a bit ansty. Boi probably thought he was getting out sooner. Suck it mate, your lawyers are DEAD.

Convinent blast of fire is convinenet...knocks out the cell doors and punches a hole but thats it. My money’s on Cinder

Qrow becomes bird on reaction. Makes sense really. 

Two fade to blacks in less than 2 minutes? Come on RT...

Ohhh its Nora waking up. So does that mean Robyn’s dead? I doubt it, but that drama spike is def a thing.

IV tech in Atlas is almost the same as our world. Interesting.

Whitley A poses like a god. 

Looks like Penny’s back snapped. Or something...maybe a coolant pipe or something similar.  And the return of British Klein.

And there goes the power. Probably a Grimm getting smashed into it during a fight...or they left it unguarded. Either or. Lot of explosions, either way...

Bombing run...has Atlas gone to area denial now?

...ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! THOSE FUCKING FLYING JELLYFISH GRIMM CAN MELEE AIRSHIPS?! Can we just...how in the... (LONG SUFFERING SIGH OF MILTIARY FAN) Not...going to comment. MOVING ON.

Honestly that animation seems oddly...flat. Like they just did the bare minimum...the ship breaks cleanly too. ~12 or so bits in between its nose and tail section. Kinda reminds me of how the UNSC Savannah blows up after suffering a reactor breach in Halo Reach’s “Long Night of Solace” mission.

Yes, its too much Ruby. ITS WAR. Huntsmen and Atlas were not ready for it. Never have been. Welcome to the bloody grim fable.

Oh hi Willow, where did you come from. Also, vodka.  Wait. Generator near the-Oh, I bet I know where THIS is going...fuckin Five Nights style shit at this. Slash Jurrassic Park...

Whitley showing the first signs of being human...utilizing Atlas cargoships for evac. Nice. 

Shit, the storms spread across all of Atlas. How the hell are they gonna get out through that? Also DEF getting fuckin’ Jurrasic Park vibes here. 

Why does a power startup sequence take so long...

Oh so they can talk. Also Blake says “as a girl”. Soooo what, she thinks shes older than RWBY mentally? I mean maybe she is (she did kill a man) but whos counting?

Ladybug fans getting FED right now.

Hehe, the houses CANDLES are fed by the main power. How quaint.

YEP. Knew shit was gonna hit the fan. CONTACT. Hound

The chess set seems to have black loosing. Wonder if that means anything. Or if its just random.

Yep its the Hound. Knew it.

DID IT JUST ONESHOT RUBY’S AURA?! THE FUCK RT WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT BEING RESILIANT?!

Oh its trying to kidnap her. Also those wings just EXPLODED out of it. Must have learned from last time. No weird screaming noises.

DAMN THOUGH WEISS’S MOM GOT THAT CAKE! THICC SCHNEE ASS

WOOPS. No more booze for you Mrs Schnee

And Pennys back up and SHES NOT PLEASED.

Also I like how completely dead and robotic Penny is while hacked. It amuses me. Unfortunatly for Watts hacking something with MAIDEN POWERS doesnt seem to work too well. SURPRISE.

Oh and of course its got backup, DISRUPTING WEISS’S SUMMONING AGAIN

Ha, it thought Ruby was Penny. Lul. Makes sense, young girl, whatever.

Oh look, a Hydralisk. Or, Salems horrible attempt at making a Hydralisk. 

Hacking denied BY THE POWER OF BUTCH LESBIANS!

Willow having a panic attack, doesnt really surprise me. Then again she IS a Huntress, or was, maybe she’ll get over it.

Chandelier. Phantom of the Opera time?

Unsurprising twist is unsurprising...makes sense Whitley would get covered in that green shit.

Further proof to my theory the Hound is eyeless

And Willow doing her fucking job. NICE.

I know I should be worried for them while running but again, THAT SCHNEE ASS THOUGH GOOD LORD.

These bigger Grimm are getting smarter. They’re learning how to handle CQC. 

Target DOWN. Sadly, did not explode into showers of acid when Ruby cut it down.

Okay that was pretty cool with the arm. Always was a fan of “useless limbs only for smashing”.  Ah THERES the Silver Eyes. PROBABLY SHOULDNT HAVE TAKEN HER ROBOT WIFE PRISONER BIIITCCH.

Penny is just getting ALL KINDS of fucked up rn.

WELL THEN. The Hounds not ACTUALLY a Grimm. Just a parasite on a host. Salem couldnt get them smart enough by themselves (to no ones surprise, they’re completely SHIT in terms of actual lethality) so she steals a...faunus of some kind looks like. And just makes him wear a Grimm suit. Useful. Good to know.

Also this episode has been making excessive use of sweat drops. Did they get that figured out or what

HA! Grimm dont handle physics well do they!

The Grimm arm that results looks like Cinders. Intentional, Im compleretly sure. Also the fact theres bone underneath proves to me more what I thought. Its just a host. 

How...UNIMPRESSIVE.

However the fact that the bones have TWISTED and resulted in the Hounds form is...interesting. Unless those were there first (and they seem to be as they last past the Hound vanishing)...was that a secondary feature? He had the ears...

We’ll probably never know.

Ah so it WAS Cinder breaking in. To get Watts most likely.

Kinda feel bad for these three troopers. Shoulda brought shotguns, boi.

Fucking moron with a rocket launcher. WHY is he firing this thing INSIDE? Against a humanoid target? Though it is nice to know that Atlas does in fact have rocket launchers.

And now, Episode 9

...wow, way to start us off. Field littered with dead Atlas troopers. Yeah MAYBE IF YOU HAD SOME DEFENSIVE POSITIONS buddy...least they still got fire from the Paladins.

You know this kinda feels like an Imperial Guard moment. Point made, RT.

Also those Mantas peeled off without DOING anything. Least you could do is drop some ordinance...

Wait I t hink they did...also, for about 2 seconds you can see the silverfish Grimm that won that contest.

Alright, so RJY is inside the whale now. Good. 

Good question Yang. Probably cause you dont really have any other options?

I feel like Jaunes hair has become less plant-like and more realistic.

New fairy tale; The Girl who Fell Through The World. Interesting. Wonder if thats in the book somewhere.

So hes got access to magic but it makes them fuse faster. Alright, cool. Nice limitation.

...my god. Trenches. Standing formation. HUNTERS IN ARMOR?!

Its...its beautiful. Its everything Ive ever wanted! Seriously you HAVE to see this.

Just look at it. The lights, the Mantas in he background, the fact that FNKI is there and WEARING ARMOR!  Neon in her skates with weapon at the ready, everyone else standing firm, winter Walking the trench line like shes fucking Commissar Vale...

Its. Just. SO. GOOD.

And then they rush to glorious battle moments later. OH YES PLEASE

“Right now, just kill Grimm.” PERFECT

Hazel short-walking amuses me to no end.

Hazel has “II” in roman numerals on his arm band. I doubt it means anything but its funny

Spontanious Emerald is spontanious. And convinenent. 

Glowy blue titty woman yeahhhhhh

And there goes Hazel with his change of heart. Been good knowing you pal...I can guess where THIS is going.

Oscar is distracted by the big glowy milkys.

Also; Neo can...thats most interesting. Fully camoflauged. USEFUL. And of course you can see her ass for ONE SECOND and I bet the FANDOMS HAVING FUN WITH THAT

If Yang wasnt afraid right now I’d be very surprised.

Random floating Seer as well.

MAN THERE IS JUST TOO MUCH FUCKING CONVENIENCE GOING ON RIGHT NOW LIKE

I get it.  Nice to see things not going according to plan for Salem exactly but 

Ehh.

Hahaha. Juan. Bro doesnt even remember Jaunes name.  Also that short section of fight is magnificent. This is what I have always imagined the HKs being like.

CLEVER. Nice work Emerald.

Also uhhh...dont need no semblance ot see THAT Ren, she got that confused scared face right on there.

Tsundere Emerald continues

Also, the fact that all the troops stand in line around the bomb when it arrives amuses me. Like, yes, we must worship this tool of horror we have created.

Timer...ohhhhh thats gonna end poorly. WHY AM I GETTING SHADES OF LONG NIGHT OF SOLACE AGAIN?

Did Salem straight up make a door right through the wall? With a perfectly good one behind her? God damn.

Also on that subject uhhhhh off the walls guys, not to hard. Landing strats right?

OH NO WAIT FIGHT TIME.

Magic still doesnt seem impressive to me. Just...mildly forceful. Yeah it whacked Jaune and Ren off their feet but

Still. No 40k psyker is she.

Ohh ho. OH THATS NICE

Also Yang punched her titty. That is hilarious to me.

 BREAK, BITCH! SUFFER AND SHATTER!  In the words of the Chaplain Grimaldus; “BURN HERETIC!”

Addit; First time we see her regeneration. Seems its literally anything, she pulls herself back together using Grimm bits. Obviously shes not fully human considering that blast Yang hit her with should have liquified her organs. Makes SENSE of course.

Okay, magic seems to kinda work, she didnt like that much.

I paused at the perfect time and Yangs ass is riiigghhhttt at Oscars crotch more or less. Unintentional I know but its funny to me.

Also those sigils...like Weiss’s glyphs perhaps?

Huh. Two kinds of magic. The bright sunshiny ranbow one she used to hit Ren and Jaune, and now this void looking shadowy stuff.  So...two kinds perhaps? Creation and Destruction or...light and dark maybe is more accurate.  Makes SENSE, shes studied in both and uses both. All aspects.

Okay NOW Im seeing why RT got Jen Taylor to do Salem. We jussttt had to wait to the point she got mad enough to really start showing off.

Also Salem seems oddly unconvinced about Summer.

Awww, Emeralds crying. HOW PATHETIC

Someones gotta distract her...well this works. Again, RIP Hazel, you were pretty cool.

Homie goin ALL out on this. YEAH!

Okay, magic seems to be both, she has the void walker balls shooting rainbow light...

I like how casually Salem takes it. Seeing that Grimm ichor splatter was REAL nice though

IMMOLATIOIN OH YESSSS

Good, SHE DOES BURN!

Awwww. And it ends there. Of course it does.

Well hey maybe hes NOT dead. Albiet that looked like him passing out/getting strangled so who knows. Good news; Salem burns just like anyone else. If it feels pain you can kill it

And thats this weeks!

[lord-overlips]

Overlord shuddered and gasped, grinding his spike in deeply as he watched Vortex be ripped open slowly, torn in two by that savage hook little by little. It was so intimate... so beautiful... energon welling in the copter's butchered frame as the hook tore through him, life fluids burbling up to dribble down and coat Vortex's plain colours in a sea of bright pink.

They were so tight... so good. Overlord rocked up in to Vortex, gasping as the copter screamed and that hook finally wrenched through the last vestiges of the mech's frame, tearing free completely with a sick wrenching of cables that erupted in the most gorgeous spray of pink life fluids.

Overlord shuddered and his whole frame twitched with pent up arousal. His spike twitched and throbbed and release was so close already. Sweet, sickly and heavy pressure coalesced in a tight and pleasurable squeeze about his array and Overlord panted, locking optics with Vortex as the mech's helm lolled and his butched frame swung freely, at death's door.

"Heh... I think I got a little excited." He shrugged it off. There were always new toys, new playthings. He liked Vortex though... but he also liked ruining his pretty toys. Broken toys always tended to make for the best overloads.

Half lidded optics peered back, hazy with lust, Overlord rocking against Vortex, burying his shaft and panting, groaning in sick pleasure as charge welled up in him. Then- a charged shot- right through the triple changer's exposed neck.

Overload ripped through him, intense and heady and all at once. Overlord blacked out. His frame fell to the ground with a crash. Release spurted in to his captive's ruined internals, erupting inside that ruined frame and dribbling freely from his overstretched and aching cavity.

Overlord woke- perhaps a minute later. He felt... wonderful. He loosed a giddy laugh, calling for his medic, one servo gripping his ragged and bleeding neck while he turned to look at Vortex.

Oh... were they dead?

The copter was hanging limply, probably little to no energon left in him. Overlord certainly hoped his medic worked quickly.

"Heh... that was perfect..." He muttered, both servos pressed against his neck cables to quell the bleeding there. His healing factor would slow the bleeding... he wouldn't die. Not yet. Facscinating though... he could press digits down against his throat... and through the rent and bleeding holes there... to his internals. Overlord squirmed and felt his spike twitch in renewed interest as he fingered the ruined remains of his throat, his neck. Wonderful... his sweet angel was too precious to just disappear like that... it was only right that they punish him, Overlord thought, processor a twisted mess of desire and half formed thoughts.

He stroked himself again... watching as his medic appeared. Triage... that as his name. The mech was a flurry of motion... blurry... such pretty colours and shapes... Overlord stroked himself while he watched the mech bury his servos in what was left of Vortex.

Overlord managed to prop himself up on one elbow, ruined and smouldering neck spurting a fresh slew of energon as he watched. He stroked himself to completion like that, watching Triage scramble in to action, cauterise wounds, touch such intimate parts of his angel... He hoped they saved his sweet pet. He wanted so dearly to imitate that... just now... servos deep in Vortex's internals... buried and squirming and-hnnngghh!

The hulking mech finally overloaded, bright sticky fluids adding to the mess of his frame. Perfect... just perfect...

. . .

Vortex would wake some time later, tied to a medical bert, each limb secured tightly by sturdy straps. He was alone, drip in his arm. But perhaps... if he spoke up someone would hear?

His sweet angel must have felt it... the energon loss, the pain, the uncertainty of the thread of life they were clinging to because now.... now they were pressing close to Overlord. Their glossa met his own, chilled frame craving wamth and contact, field needy and open. It was.... beautiful.

"So perfect..." Overlord crooned, spare servo shifting to clutch the copter's jaw, thumb caressing his cheek as other digits delved in deep, wriggled and pumped in and out of that slick and eager vlave.

"You're marvellous.... you know that, don't you? A gift... a blessing all for me." Overlord vented a lovesick sigh, staring longing at his newest pet as his digits wriggled deeper, drawing back only to stuff themselves in firm and hard, fucking the copter fiercely.

"You're mine... my gift. My precious plaything... I'm never letting you go." He murmured all this between adoring kisses, glossa slipping in to that slack and helpless intake, Overlord loosing a giggle every so often at just how easy, how wonderful all this was, digits fucking that sweet little opening roughly all the while.

"Oh, but I'd better get on with things! I wouldn't want you bleeding out before I'm done with you! And I have SO much planned, my angel... so much... you're going to love it here."

Overlord flexed his digits, stretching that slick valve out a little more, sly grin on his faceplates before he finally drew his servo free. He lapped at them in long, lewd motions, putting on a show for Vortex. He pressed several digits in to his intake and sucked, optics locked on Vortex's own, engine rumbling as that devious glossa laved over the length of his forefinger, sucking up every last but of lubricant like it was the sweetest treat. Slurping, lapping, then a pop as his servo drew free.

"I've been waiting... so, so long... I hope you enjoy yourself, my angel. I'm certainly going to."

With that, Overlord finally gripped Vortex by the hips, both servos settled there and his gargantuan spike lined up, thick as the copter's thigh. It nudged at the entrance to Vortex's heated opening and then... without a hint of remorse- thrust inside. Overlord dragged Vortex down on the hook, that rusted, cruel edge tearing him open as Overlord thrust his hips up, spike forcing its way in to that too tight opening, valve searing, stretched and burning as Vortex was split open cruelly.

Overlord didn't stop there. He ground down hard, stuffing that huge member in deep, nudging againt the depths of that valve and feeling a tiny bit of give... just a bit... where his force shoudl be. With a violent and needy thrust of his hips and a ruthless pull at the copter's hips, Vortex was skewered, ripped open and that hulking spike tearing freely in to the empty cavern where a forge would be. Nothing like that for a Combaticon- just empty space- another warm hole to fill with Overlord's needy spike. He ground up... slowly... filling Vortex up until the copter could imagine he could feel that huge spike grazing at the back of his intake.

Overlord's helm tilted, optics rolled back as he lingered in that sweet, heady pleasure for a long moment. He might have just killed his pet....

Worth it.

[letterboxd]

How I Letterboxd #7: Cinemonster.

Hooptober’s head honcho opens up to Jack Moulton about his love for Texas-born horror director Tobe Hooper, the joys of running Letterboxd’s most beloved Hallowe’en community challenge, and the “terrifying, magical” experience of seeing Frankenstein at the age of four.

“You can’t spell October without Tobe.” —Cinemonster

Cinemonster, known to his family and friends as David Hood, is a restaurateur in Pittsburgh by day, and the head honcho of Hooptober by night. Now in its seventh year, the horror film challenge sees participants set their own 31-day viewing agenda of 31 films, curated according to a list of criteria set by its creator.

‘The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’ (1974), directed by Tobe Hooper.

With over 5,000 films logged on Letterboxd and a growing collection of posters, DVDs, Blu-rays, laser discs and film memorabilia, Cinemonster is a literal monster of cinema. He has created more than 500 lists, including a ton of year, director, actor, actress, franchise and memoriam lists.

What brought you to Letterboxd? I found Letterboxd while I was doing a Google search for a horror film that I had forgotten the name of. I ran into a list that Hollie Horror had made and wound up starting a profile and it went from there. That would have been a little over seven years ago.

How freakin’ cool is last year’s Hallowe’en Easter egg with the dripping blood from our logo? [Pro members get this added to their pages by mentioning #horror in their bio.] I’m a fan.

Unfortunately I haven’t heard of a single one of your four profile favorites! What’s urging you to highlight these films? They are just lesser-seen and have something good or great about them. Eyeball is a great little underseen Umberto Lenzi film. Death Machines is an awkward, weird and wonderful film with kung fu and blood. Massacre at Central High is one of my favorite films and sadly lacking a disc release of any kind—anyone who has seen Heathers will recognize a couple of things if they watch it. Rituals is a criminally underseen stalked in the woods film from the ’70s.

In this this list description, you explain how the original Frankenstein (1931) hooked you into horror at four years old. Can you describe what you most remember about that life-changing experience? It was both magical and terrifying. The space, the creature, the little girl. I had trouble sleeping for weeks afterwards. No matter where I am in the world, if there is a screening of Frank, I’ll go. I watched most of the major universals by the time I was six or seven. I saw Alien and Jaws 2 with my folks and those stuck with me. Cable and a local UHF station showing Hammer films on Saturdays are what really allowed me to get sucked in.

‘Frankenstein’ (1931), directed by James Whale.

The horror films of 1980 and 1981 were the most impactful and are the ones that mean the most to me to this day; Fade to Black, Night School, Motel Hell, The Fog, Alligator, Altered States, Terror Train, Death Ship, Scanners, An American Werewolf in London, The Howling, The Funhouse, Dead & Buried, Hell Night, Wolfen, Ghost Story, The Pit and Evilspeak. I saw all of them five to ten-plus times on cable as a kid. They’re still all high on my list. I am glad that Fade to Black is on Shudder. People need to watch it. More relevant now than then.

What exactly provoked you to start Hooptober seven years ago? I moved into an old spooky house and had a backlog of Blu-rays to watch and the 4K of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre was about to come out. I’d done some interactive stuff on Letterboxd previously and had a decent amount of people involved. I was also at a point in my life where 31 films in 31 days is tough, as it is for a lot of us now. So I thought ‘Why don’t I do something that starts a little early, clears some of my list out, and has some parameters that don’t feel like I am handing out an assignment?’ I grew up in Texas, Tobe [Hooper] is close to my heart, and with all the Hooper I owned and the 4K coming out, I decided to christen it with his name. You can’t spell October without Tobe.

What’s the most members that have participated in a Hooptober? The number of people who participated was a little more than I expected, but that wasn’t what I was surprised by. I never thought of it as a recurring event until I started to hear from people the following summer about ‘the next one’. I just kinda chuckled after about a dozen people had asked and I said out loud to no one, “I guess I’m doing another one of these”. We are well over 700 this year, and still climbing.

‘Fade to Black’ (1980), directed by Vernon Zimmerman.

Where do you get the ideas for the rules for films to consider watching? At this point, I look back at past years so that I don’t repeat myself. I look to the current year for inspiration. Is there a film from a sub-genre that was prominent? Was it a strong year for output from women, Mexico, Asia, Black filmmakers, something cultural, and so on? I may focus on effects creators, an actor or writer on a whim. I try to keep an eye out for blind spots I haven’t covered. Shudder, archive.org, the big streamers are all resources. Sadly, rarefilmm no longer exists.

In last year’s interview with Merry-Go-Round magazine, you mentioned plans to turn Hooptober into a film festival. How’s that going? In a post-pandemic world, how can we keep independent niche film festivals thriving? The world has not been agreeable, obviously. I’m not even sure how viable something like that will be next year. I’ve been taking a look at streaming options. Post-pandemic will require more creativity and outside-the-box thinking, and will probably continue to feed some drive-ins. Been a while since more than a handful of people wanted to put money into a drive-in, which is nice to see.

I’m going to do a tweet along to The Witch Who Came From the Sea in October, and I’ll give you an exclusive here: The George Romero Foundation and I are doing online Horror Trivia on October 11. I had been doing it live with them here in Pittsburgh until the pandemic.

Based on this year’s rules and conditions, if there was one essential you-can’t-miss film you could force all your participants to add to their challenge, which film would it be? Demons, Eve’s Bayou or The Witch Who Came From the Sea.

‘The Witch Who Came from the Sea’ (1976), directed by Matt Cimber.

What have been your own greatest film discoveries through your Hooptober adventures? A Tale of Two Sisters, I Drink Your Blood, Blood Diner, and though it is a bit of a cheat to list this one, The Amusement Park. It’s cheating because it didn’t exist as something that I or anyone else could have watched, prior to when I saw it.

Do you have any acclaimed horror movies still lingering in your list of shame? Eyes Without a Face, Upgrade, Cure and Scream 4.

Have you ever completed one of your own Hooptober challenges yet? Errrrrrrrrr, one. I’m on track this year.

What about the participants over the years—any Letterboxd friends you’ve made who would you like to give a shout-out to? Aaron, Sarah Jane and Chris Duck are people that I talk to outside of Letterboxd. There have been a few others over the years. Slappy McGee has helped me with Hooptober the last two years. They are great. Javo and David Lawrence are pretty great, too.

Before Hooptober, many of your lists invited discussion with your followers. In what ways is Letterboxd the ideal forum to foster a community of film fans? Fans exercise their fandom in so many ways. The platform is so flexible that it allows you to utilize it in a small and personal way, in a promotional way, or to dive into the community pool and see who’s out there that shares something with you or can show you something. The more people that we are exposed to and listen to, we are all the better for.

Which of your review—from any genre—are you proudest of? The Invisible Man or The Hustler, probably. I have a capsule of Hud that I like.

So, you’re the horror guy. Nobody is denying that. You are Cinemonster, after all. But when I look at your top movies list and see that Singin’ in the Rain is your all-time number one, I’ll need you to explain yourself. I go back and forth between that and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. They are 1A and 1B in some order. Singin’ in the Rain is a perfect film and the studio system at its best. I will ignore your implied insult. ;)

‘Fear of a Black Hat’ (1993), directed by Rusty Cundieff.

It’s true, even a horror aficionado needs some levity in their life. What other comedies pick you up from a dark place? Fear of a Black Hat always does the trick. Same with The Awful Truth, Murder by Death, Hollywood Shuffle, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Blazing Saddles, Monty Python and the Holy Grail and Black Dynamite.

Who has been keeping you company during this tough year? I have watched thirteen Spike Lee films so far this year. I’ve taken a break the last few months, but I’ll probably knock out five or six more. With the exception of 25th Hour, everything is a revisit. It’s been a joy to go back through everything. Crooklyn is much stronger than I remembered, and Bamboozled just gets better and more impactful as time passes. I have loved Spike since the day I saw School Daze. His films have always connected with things that are important to me and to those that have been around me. Lee is still grossly under-appreciated as a narrative film director and a documentarian.

We’re bowing down to your epic Blu-ray and DVD collection. Which ones are your most prized possessions? Make us jealous. I have an Anchor Bay DVD of Dawn of the Dead signed by the cast and George A. Romero, a steelbook of Battle Royale, the first Slumber Party Massacre set before they had to reprint the box, the original Star Wars trilogy on Blu. I’m sure there are things I’m not thinking of. I have a lot of out-of-print and laser-only stuff. I’ll never get rid of my Holy Grail, Ghostbusters and Akira Criterion laser discs.

A selection of Cinemonster’s signed memorabilia.

I have a copy of Painting with Light signed by John Alton, John Waters and Steven Soderbergh I’ll send you a picture of. I used to collect movie posters, and I have the original Revenge of the Jedi one-sheet and the Drew Struzan Squirm poster. I do love those.

From your top directors list, let’s put one horror director on a pedestal. Who does the genre better than anyone else and why? George. They’re always topical, intelligent, thoughtful, personal and sometimes prescient. At their best they hold up both a mirror and a crystal ball. He was writing found-footage scripts in the early 70s, for god’s sake. Tobe is grossly under-appreciated. James Whale and Mario Bava could scare you in so many ways.

So, thinking beyond Ari Aster, Robert Eggers and Jordan Peele, which up-and-coming horror directors are you most excited about? Issa López, Gigi Saúl Guerrero, Benson and Moorhead, Shinichiro Ueda, Na Hong-jin, Julia Ducournau, Nia DaCosta, Jeremy Gardner and Leigh Whannell.

The 2010s were a great decade for horror. We have more money on-screen, moving away from the low-budget films of the 2000s. Which favorite horror film of the last decade inspired you the most? Get Out. What Jordan did for generations to come is unmatched in this century.

Chucky from ‘Child’s Play’ (1988).

Which probably-too-long horror franchise gets too much flak and is top-to-bottom a great time? Child’s Play. Chucky has always been treated generally as second tier. [That franchise] has tried a lot of interesting and out-there things during its lifespan that had no business working, but did.

I know it’s been a slow year but you haven’t logged many 2020 movies yet! Which is your most anticipated horror movie of 2020 or 2021? Peninsula, for sure; I love Train to Busan. Then Candyman, The Dark and the Wicked, Grizzly II: Revenge, Bad Hair, #Alive, After Midnight, The Platform, Bulbbul, Underwater, Shirley and Swallow.

Interview by Jack Moulton. Follow Jack on Letterboxd.

[artlessictoan]

ao3 req for femme sak/butch tema where they’re at a con and tema is a cosplayer with a big fuck off weapon. gotta admit, the biggest difficulty was who the fuck they’d be cosplaying as since it turns out I’m not familiar with many gigantic weapon wielding characters in any of the things I watch or play.. I was sorely tempted to have them cosplaying as themselves for a while there.

(requests open)

(ao3 mirror)

---

This place was too loud, and crowded, and she was sorely regretting wearing an outfit with quite so many frills and petticoats – no matter how cute she looked in it, the heat of a thousand bodies packed together in a poorly ventilated hall was just not worth it.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, what was the point in dressing up, I don't think anyone's even looked at me since we got here.”

Naruto was still waving goodbye to the kid who’d asked to have her picture taken with his particularly campy take on Aquaman, though her words quickly had him giving her a Look out of the corner of his eyes, a knowing smirk plastered across her face. “Your ego is showing,” he sang.

She was definitely not pouting. “Easy for you to say, how many photos have you been in so far?”

“Yeah, but I asked to be in most of those.” He had to jog to keep up with her long strides, but he still managed to throw out several compliments to some of the other cosplayers they passed by.

“Exactly! How are you so confident just walking up to complete strangers and asking that?”

“You just gotta be more like me,” he said, and it was a testament to their friendship that he knew exactly what she was going to say in response to that, because the second she opened her mouth, he interrupted her. “Loud and with absolutely zero shame!”

Well, she wasn’t going to argue with that.

Together, they navigated their way around a large group of very excited teens clustered around an artist’s stall, her friend still nattering at her side, “It's your first time at a con, of course it takes some getting used to, don't be so hard on yourself.”

He was right, annoyingly, but she’d always been something of a perfectionist and she’d put so much time and effort into her elaborate cosplay – hours of researching patterns and materials, practising various sewing techniques before she ever even touched the base dress she’d managed to discover hidden in a charity shop after almost two weeks of searching, hell, she’d even had to learn how to dye cloth in order to get the perfect colours for her grand idea – just a little appreciation of her work would be nice.

“I’m pretty sure no one is impressed with me,” she said, pulling at the ruffles lining her bodice, “I’ve seen at least six other Princess Peaches wondering around and they’re all way more convincing than I am.” And by convincing, what she really meant was slender and delicate.

Both things with she was decidedly not.

Naruto clearly saw her reasoning, because he was quick to try and pull her out of it. “You’re exaggerating!”

“No one wants to take a picture of a buff Princess Peach.”

“Hey-” he grabbed her gloved hand and pulled her away to a relatively quiet area, his voice and expression deadly serious “-you look amazing and I won’t hear another word otherwise, buff femmes are a gift to the world and you should be proud.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed him back with a snort. “I know that dummy, I’m not feeling sad, I’m just pissed that no one here has any taste.”

Indeed, her body was another thing she worked very hard to perfect and she was absolutely not ashamed to show it off. Though it did make finding an equally – if not more – strapping butch who’d treat her like the princess she absolutely deserved to be a little difficult. She was a simple girl, with simple tastes, all she wanted was a handsome woman who could bench Sakura’s not inconsiderable bodyweight.

“You sure you’re not just sulking, because you’re not the most popular girl in town?”

“Do you want to get punched? Because that right there is the kind of talk that will get you pun…” Her voice cut out in a breathy gasp.

Samus Aran herself was casually waltzing down the aisle.

Sakura grabbed Naruto's arm for support, as every hopelessly gay bone in her body crumbled to dust.

His asking what was wrong went completely ignored, she could only stare at the vision marching between tables, the crowd instinctively parting before her, like minnows before a shark, all eyes turning to follow her strong, confident strides.

“Daaaaamn.” Naruto had apparently followed her hungry gaze, because he let out a long, appreciative whistle. “How long do you think that getup took to make?”

Unlike the handful of other Samus cosplays she'd seen today, this was the character as she was meant to be, fully armoured, shoulders wider than a bus, legs for days, well over six feet of pure Warrior. Her hand cannon was somewhat… exaggerated – compared to canon at least – but honestly, that just made Sakura's throat even drier.

And, just when she thought all air had long since vacated her body, Samus pulled off her helmet and the dark face with a roguish smirk and mess of blond curls pulled into a chaotic ponytail that was revealed stole the lingering gasp she didn’t know she still had in her.

“Hey. Sak. Sakura. Oi.” She vaguely heard the words coming from somewhere to her left, but could not bring herself to look away.

A rough hand slapped across her eyes.

“Hey!” she yelled – well, tried to yell, breathless as she was it came out more as a wheeze than anything even slightly intimidating – and whacked Naruto's hand away.

“Oh, good, you're still alive, you were starting to turn purple there, I was worried I'd lost you.”

Her glare was half-hearted at best, but it was probably a good thing he'd reminded her that she still had many important bodily functions that really shouldn’t be put on hold just because a pretty girl walked by. Though, now that she was thinking about it, she really wanted to sneak another peek at the vision of Raw Amazonian Energy that had left her in such a state to begin with.

The woman was now chatting to a very convincing Bayonetta, her wide grin showing off white teeth and crinkling her slightly crooked nose – it looked like it must've been broken at some point, but Sakura was very much into the rugged look, so frankly it just made her all the more mesmerised.

“You should go talk to her.”

She blinked out of her trance once more, as her head snapped around to stare at her best friend. “What? No. No way. How?”

Naruto, bless his heart, just smiled and said, “Walk up and tell her you really like her costume,” as though that wasn't such a monumentally impossible task that she wanted to weep just thinking about it.

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

“C'mon, it's not that hard," he said, dropping an arm across her shoulders. "I bet she gets it all the time, there's nothing to be embarrassed about!”

Sakura dug her heels into the floor as he gently, but determinedly, tried to push her forward. She might’ve had more success if she weren’t wearing such dainty pumps. “Exactly, she's probably sick of it and I should just leave her alone and admire her silently from afar.”

Naruto, bless his heart, looked at her like she was the stupidest person alive.

Honestly, she couldn't really say that she wasn't.

Before she could distract him by pointing out the stall selling ninja gear at the opposite end of the alley to where Samus was waving goodbye to Bayonetta, he was shoving her firmly in the direction of the beautiful thief of her heart, despite her legs’ adamant refusal to cooperate with his wishes.

“No, no, Naruto, don't you dare do this to me, I will end you, I will slit open your stomach and strangle you with your own intestines, I will-”

Her deranged muttering came to an abrupt halt when her friend carefully lifted her by the arms and threw her into the poor, unsuspecting woman’s chest.

The way she was caught wasn't half as suave and romantic as every period drama she'd ever watched had led her to believe it should be and the armour the woman was wearing was apparently made of steel, if the painful clanging of her forehead against it was anything to go by, but they both managed to stay standing and a deep, husky laugh was quickly washing away all memories of pain and embarrassment. And quite possibly her own name.

“Woah there, Princess,” a warm voice cooed softly, as Sakura finally managed to blink her vision back into place and stand up by herself. “You alright?”

She then made the terrible mistake of looking up, into the intense green eyes staring down at her, light curls of hair framing her strong, striking face like a halo – and that just had to be what she was, an angel, no earthly being had any right being so perfect – at which point she lost all higher brain functions. Perhaps she managed to make a strangled affirmative noise, because the woman gave a relieved smile and took a small step back, though her hand lingered against Sakura’s waist, ready to support her if needed.

“That’s good, the crowds can get a bit wild here, huh?”

Her mouth must’ve been acting on autopilot now, because she was speaking, before she even really processed the question, “Oh, it wasn’t the crowd it was-”

Naruto.

Flicking her gaze all around her, she searched for the tell-tale blond spikes of her best-friend-turned-worst-enemy, but, alas, he had melted away into the throng of people surrounding them, forever lost. Which was probably a smart idea, because when she next saw him, she was going to destroy the idiot.

“Never mind,” she said, giving one last glare to an innocent bystander, who very quickly turned around and started walking back the way they came, “just a friend being a dick.”

The woman’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion, but she quickly shrugged it away and lifted her ludicrous hand cannon to rest in the nook between her exaggerated shoulder pads and her neck. “Well, even if it was a bit violent, it’s nice to meet you; name’s Temari.”

Sakura just barely managed to stutter out her own name, before her eyes decided that this was the perfect time to greedily drink in her elaborately realistic cosplay while she was up close. The longer she looked, the more awed and – in the subtle way of a fellow creative witnessing a masterpiece – somewhat jealous she became. “That costume is just… amazing, are those actual LED lights or is it just glow paint? And how’d you work out the joints in the armour?”

“Not a damn clue! My brother’s the artist, I just model some of his work for him-” she flicked a glossy business card out of a small, hidden compartment in her arm cannon and held it out to her “-he does commissions if you’re interested.”

Well, shit. There went any hope of a common interest.

While Sakura was trying not to pout at the words ‘Black Ant Costuming’ and come up with a graceful escape route, Temari snorted. “And in return for doing all his advertising for him, I got him to make me a Samus costume, because no one else has the figure to do her justice.”

The wink she gave was at once both shamelessly theatrical and utterly devastating. Sakura was pretty sure that her brain had just melted into a puddle of love-struck goop and was no longer controlling her body’s actions – it was the only excuse she would accept for the breathless, swooning giggle she let out in response.

“Th-that you do,” Sakura said, only half aware of what she was even saying anymore.

Her extremely besotted state was probably clear to everyone in a ten-meter radius, but Temari had the grace not to point it out directly.

No, her eyes were too busy scanning up and down Sakura’s own outfit. “Not that you really need Kankuro’s help, you look super cute already.” Apparently Temari didn’t notice the blood rushing to her head fast enough to explode it, because she barrelled on without a care for her heart’s wellbeing, “That dress… are those the lesbian flag colours, or is my bi ass just reading into things again?”

Shit, she was definitely making a weird face by this point. “I-I wasn’t expecting anyone to notice-” she said, her voice sounding a million miles away.

Temari leaned down a little, the golden-brown skin of her cheeks turned just slightly red and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “You know, I actually ship Samus and Peach real fuckin’ hard, and you are straight-up adorable, mind if we take a cute shippy pic together? Just a hug is fine if you’re not comfortable wi-”

Sakura had spent many years trying to smother that loud, aggressive, unrestrained side of herself under layers of shy, demure femininity. How well it had historically worked was up for debate, but, now, in the face of a gorgeous woman who ticked every one of her boxes – and several she didn’t realise she had, she thought, once more eyeing up the oversized weapon Temari waved about with ease – her carefully constructed façade was immediately thrown out the window.

“NARUTO!”

All around her, people jumped, even Temari flinched and took a step back. Just as she was getting ready to yell again, she saw a familiar face peek up from behind an artist’s table; she knew he wouldn’t have gone far when there was the opportunity to watch Sakura fail at flirting to enjoy.

She pulled her phone out of her purse and threw it at him. “Hurry up and get over here, you’re taking pictures of us.”

Just barely saving her phone from an untimely meeting with the cold hard ground, he clambered over the table he was hiding behind, apologising profusely to the poor vendor whose stock he was rearranging.

Sakura paid him no mind, spinning back to face a slightly bewildered – but very amused – Temari. “Hold me bridal-style while I kiss your cheek.”

A single brow raised, before that smug grin that had so captivated Sakura in the first place returned and she was effortlessly hoisted in two strong arms. She was so thrilled to be there; she didn’t even think to complain about the hard plastic covering them. Especially not when Temari whispered in her ear, “As you wish, my Princess.”

---

[miss-m-winks]

(Image description)

a lot of characters from my justice league au with @askmissbernadette. From left to right:

Kouto Loryck (born Kouto Hayashi) as the Bat in black body armor with a pointy eared cape and hood. He’s wearing red goggles, and the inside of the cape as well as the bat logo on his chest are also red. He’s an elf with pale skin that shows a few lightning scars. He's also non-binary and bi.

Talib Ubora, by all appearances a black elf, as Superman. He’s wearing a light blue shirt with an S shaped logo in red and yellow, as well as blue shorts with a darker section in the center, athletic red shoes and gloves, and a sleeveless red leather trench coat. He’s missing his left ear and eye with scars all over his body. He’s ace.

My very very old first oc ever Mirelle as Wonder Woman. She’s like a satyr but alicorn instead of goat. The Wonder Woman armor is a halter top to accommodate large white and blue wings which are brown on the back. Pretty much the same sort of outfit Wonder Woman is usually depicted in.

A very unused side oc, Wepesi Amara, as the Flash. Black elf woman with vitiligo, wearing a body suit and mask in two shades of red with dark blue boots and gloves. She’s a butch lesbian.

Morianten Loryck, a young quetzalin man with blue and green feathered wings and tail, dressed in armor of bone and gold with a bird skull helmet that has a red feather fringe. He used to dress a bit less macabre, going by the hero name Kingfisher as the Bat's sidekick, but now he’s Death's chosen so he goes by Ghostwing and he’s a bit more independent.

Raixa Loryck, elf woman with dark tan skin and a long black braid, dressed in a Green Lantern bodysuit. She’s bi.

Michael William DeWitte, a young human man with brown skin and short black hair, wearing a blue and dark brown sleeveless hoodie with dark red pants, black boots, blue gloves. He has a bow and arrows because he is Arrow.

Aquaman is here played as a half-mer person named Ojir, who has grey skin, pale blue fins, and purple hair. They’re wearing a cropped blue halter top with a black border creating a water drop loop at the neck, and matching pants. The crop top allows their abdominal fins to be free-moving.

Instead of Black Canary, this sonic-voice hero is Black Cockatoo, aka Thomas Marion Douglas, the human Australian Rock Star with a tall red and yellow mohawk. He’s wearing a full black leather outfit with red panels and silver spikes, as well as red gloves. His eyes are hidden by a lot of black makeup. He is gay.

And last but not least, Kimberly Johnson the stage magician who knows actual magic. Her stage and hero name is Wanda Wonderful, she has pink hair and is wearing a tuxedo top with a short pink skirt and fishnet tights. White gloves, black shoes, pink bow tie, pink mask, and a small matching top hat. She’s dating the Flash.

(End description)

[ncfan-1]

Gotham 04X08, ‘Stop Hitting Yourself’

Well, with a name like ‘Stop Hitting Yourself,’ I’m sure this week’s episode will be a paragon of maturity. This is Gotham.

- I think I read somewhere that one of the guys from the Merton gang shows up in this episode. Are we picking up on that plotline again, then?

- That Penguin impersonator is just awful. Like, dude, your impression needs work.

- And of course Leslie’s reaction to all this is “I need a drink.” If I drank, I would too, lady.

- Cherry’s feathered ruff is certainly something.

- Grundy flashes back to memories of Tabitha. *vomits a little* I do notice that memories of Tabitha make him extra violent, which probably doesn’t bode well for when Tabitha shows up later.

- Gordon is promoted to captain. *vomits a little* You’ve gotta be kidding, Bullock’s lost the rank and file? Mr. Mayor, do you have any idea how loathed Gordon is by the GCPD? I refuse to believe that last week’s “heroics” was enough to sway most of the force. Maybe the guys he saved directly might be more kindly disposed towards him, but the rest are still out for his blood. If Gordon becomes captain, he will not last the week, I swear to you. If he does, it’ll only be because the plot has swooped in to save his ass, again.

- Poor Mr. Penn has a very low panic threshold. I don’t think this line of work is good for his anxiety.

- “What do we get if we bring you Nygma?” You don’t die if you bring Oswald Ed, Selina. You’re usually smarter than this. I do like the fact that Barbara steps in to keep Oswald from getting too up-close and personal with Selina.

- Bridgit has precious little reaction to being told to kill Selina if she fails.

- I love Barbara’s face when she sees the impersonation act. Barbara is me. Then she sees Lee, and I am honestly left wondering what the fuck is going to happen.

- Tabitha’s face when she sees Grundy. Blech.

- Tabitha runs off to try to talk to Butch, while Barbara runs off to presumably try to talk to Lee.

- Is… Is Harvey contemplating suicide?

- Oh, it’s just the bullets they pulled out of the wounded cops.

- Gordon is actually being considerate of Harvey for once. I assume this is only out of guilt.

- Lucius is back! He’s telling us that Pyg’s crime scenes lack any meaningful physical evidence.

- Harvey unconsciously guilt trips Gordon. Oh ho ho. It won’t last, because only one of these men is capable of long-lasting, meaningful guilt, but it’s nice while it lasts.

- Sofia recommends Oswald raise chickens like her father did, so he can have an interest unrelated to business. It is genuinely good advice, but Sofia is probably trying to wind him up somehow.

- Oh, great. Creepy mute, possibly mentally ill boy. Thanks a lot, Gotham writers. I do like Oswald’s suggestion for him, though.

- Tabitha, don’t run up to Grundy like that. He’ll hurt you!

- And yet another person is accusing Barbara of being utterly self-obsessed, in the face of ample evidence suggesting otherwise. Thanks a lot, Gotham writers. I was actually liking Lee’s new self, too. (I don’t particularly like watching Barbara get beat up—and keep in mind that I like her a lot more than Tabitha, who I also dislike watching get beat up, so what does that tell you?) Barbara’s tragedy seems to be that no one is particularly willing to know her, let alone accept her as she is. I know she’s not a good person, but no one seems willing to so much as acknowledge the good still in her.

- Selina gets the drop on Ed. Thank you, Selina.

- Sofia punctures Jim’s hypocrisy. Yeah, Gordon, if you really didn’t want to be captain, why haven’t you thrown the paper away.

- Oswald gives a little boy a lecture on revenge. This is amazing. This little boy is a diabolical mastermind.

- “Minions are so much better than friends.” Oh, Oswald.

- More Tabitha-Butch scene, more blech. I am so uninvested in his pairing.

- Now it’s Tabitha vs. Butch. I hate this. I don’t like Tabitha, but I do not want to watch her get beat up.

- Tabitha is adorably naïve. Barbara tries to get her to take a spiked club. It’s obvious who really cares about Tabitha now.

- Cherry says Penguin will get Ed regardless of how the match goes. I kinda figured she didn’t care about him beyond his being the manager of her meal ticket, but Lee, don’t look so conflicted, please. Ed is a grade-A asshole who tried (however ineptly) to threaten you into treating him, and, as you yourself brought up, is indirectly responsible for your miscarriage. He’s dug his own grave; it is not your responsibility to dig him out, and he wouldn’t be grateful even if you did.

- A blow to the head turns Grundy back into Butch. That… that is so not how amnesia works, you assholes. I do like the fact that she hit him again before she could really process that. If it were a couple I actually liked, I’d probably be willing to forgive the “power of love cures amnesia” thing, but since I don’t like this couple, it just makes me shudder.

- I’m not gonna lie, I had the tv on mute all through the “passing out the bullets” scene. I’m so uninvested.

- And Bridgit continues to have absolutely no misgivings about having to kill Selina.

- Poor Selina. First she has to watch Bridgit try to kill her, then she has to watch Lee shoot her.

- Cherry is dead. I’m gonna miss her feathered ruff. Is Lee gonna take over the fight club now, or is she gonna go full time with the clinic.

- Harvey is falling apart. Specifically, he’s trying to drink himself into a coma. Gordon’s not one to talk about respect, seeing as he doesn’t have any respect for anything. Bullock raises a good point—how is he supposed to face the cop he shot and give her the bullet he shot her with?

- The way Gordon announces to Bullock that he was promoted is just the cruelest fucking thing. He hits Bullock at his most vulnerable moment and tells him he’s taking his job away from him. I do like Bullock’s parting shot, because it is so very honest and so very warranted: if Gordon hasn’t already paid for the captaincy, he will soon. I don’t think he’s gonna like sitting in Bullock’s chair. Even if, like Bullock says, it’s what he’s always wanted.

Just what is Jim Gordon gonna do with power, anyways? He keeps talking about cleaning up Gotham, but he is one of the most corrupt cops in the city. Besides that, he’s never actually laid out a plan for cleaning up Gotham. I don’t think he properly appreciates just how much work cleaning up this cesspool would entail. Second, as much as he chafes against authority (read: butts his head against it and is insubordinate apparently just for the hell of it), he doesn’t seem to know what to do with authority whenever he gets it. He’s rudderless without someone giving him orders; he just sort of spirals.

- Sofia wants to know why Oswald is teaching a kid how to properly stab someone. So do I, Sofia.

- Poor Mr. Penn. He is perpetually terrified.

- I think Oswald is on to Sofia. I know Sofia’s sharp as a knife, but I still hope she watches her back.

- Tell me Bridgit’s still alive, you assholes.

- Even Ed acknowledges that the guys at the fight club have acclaimed Lee as their leader. All hail Queen Lee! Long may she reign!

- Gordon is so fucking self-righteous. I think you are Sofia’s puppet, actually. If you weren’t, you would have expressed some agency and thrown that piece of paper away. You’re going to continue being Sofia’s puppet because you need an authority figure to chafe against.

- He still thinks he can just make Sofia leave Gotham. That’s cute.

- (No Grady this week. Guess the cast list I saw got it wrong.)

[alicescripts]

Part 2, Chapter 7: The Monk of Crystal Springs

I’ve been to a lot of rest areas in my life. Hell, I’ve been to a lot of rest areas this week.

Parking is easier, and I kinda like the rustic feel of them versus a cash and shopping area. I like the trees and the grass.  

But for the next few days or weeks – months, maybe – I’ll stop at the truck stops and gas stations instead. The hot dogs under heat lamps, and the tired people who are still a long way from where they wanted to be.

I’ll take that crowd and noise to avoid the quiet rest stops. Or the rest stops I used to think were quiet.

Alice Isn’t dead by Joseph Fink. Performed by Jasika Nicole. Produced by Disparition. Part 2, Chapter 7: The Monk of Crystal Springs.

Gilroy is where a garlic is grown, and you can smell it from ten minutes out. It smells amazing, like diced garlic dropping into a pan of oil. Anyone who lives anywhere near Gilroy must have that smell blasted out of their consciousness, and what a terrible thing to lose.

It reminds me as a kid, going to our local stand right on the edge of a strawberry field. You could buy the berries warm from the sun, their stems still bleeding water. The hours were irregular and dependent on the harvest. You would know that they were open, because they would fly a flag in the shape of a carp. And the stand always smelled so strongly of strawberries as a little bit like soil, the most perfect mixture of smells. And no one who worked there could smell it. The smell had been blocked out by their brains. Even as a kid, that seemed like one of the worst fates: to work in the best smell in the world and never be able to smell it.

From Gilroy, I followed the 101 through the amazingly named town of Coyote, and up towards San Francisco. About a half hour out, I had to pee, and laughed at the thought of trying to stop a truck in the city and find a toilet. But there it was: the Crystal Springs Rest Area.

Did you know that rest areas have Google reviews now? I looked this one up later, and there was one review that just said: “If you’ve ever wondered if cops spit or swallow, come here.” And then the review said “good coffee” so... the coffee’s OK.

On the hill above the rest stop, there was a bizarre statue of a man, bulbous and ill-formed, pointing at the highway. It looked like he was scolding the passing cars.

Jerry Morrissette was a medic in Vietnam. An alcoholic, a monk. He was hired by Caltrans to run a maintenance crew at the Crystal Springs Rest Area in 1990. He parked a decommissioned ambulance behind the bathroom, and he lived in it. At the time, the rest area, convenient to the city but also conveniently rural, was a popular site for drug trade and gang conflict. Jerry tended the grounds like they were his own garden, because that’s what they became. The bathrooms were always impeccable, the vases full of flowers on the sinks. Eventually, he moved out of the ambulance into a Caltrans maintenance shed. To help keep crime away, he painted some of the parking spots with “reserved for California Highway Patrol”, and it worked. The drug trade and the gangs moved. Jerry went on living, unknown to the state of California, in a rest area he sometimes referred to as his “monastery”.

A few years later, the state found out and tried to evict him. But the people of the Bay Area fought for him, and Jerry was made official. The state put up a trailer and he moved in with two dogs, Butch and Spike. And the bathrooms were clean. And there were flowers in the vases.

Jerry Morrissette, the monk of the Crystal Springs Rest Area.

Even though the lot was pretty full, the bathroom was empty, which was odd. The air felt different than the air outside. There was a glass vase full of fresh flowers on the sink. I smiled at it, although I didn’t yet know the story of Jerry Morrissette.

All of the stalls were empty, so I chose the one in the back corner. You know, I read once that the first stall, most visible to the rest of the bathroom, is also always the cleanest because people choose it less. I don’t know where I read that. I have no way of knowing if it’s true, but I have spent the rest of my life believing it. Hm. Our brains are strange objects.

I was in the stall when I heard the voice. No one had come into the bathroom. The stall next to mine had definitely been empty, but now there was someone sitting in it.

“What have you seen?” the voice asked. It didn’t sound like the voice was in the room with me. It sounded like a cassette, or an mp3 from the early 2000’s: flat and faint. “Uh,” I said because – well, because all of this, because everything about this situation that was happening. “Two of you, like now but two of you, later. Soon. Or already, I can’t tell.”

The feet in the stall next to mine shifted. The person was sideways, facing the divider between us that seemed too flimsy now. “I’m sorry, uh I think you have me mixed up with eh...” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence, and then I realized I didn’t have to finish it, and so I left the stall and headed briskly for the sink. As I did, I couldn’t help but look. The stall next to mine was open, and it was empty.

I stopped. I stared at the empty stall. And it wasn’t empty anymore. There was a person in a hoodie. The hoodie was pulled over their face, and I couldn’t see any detail in the shadow of it. The person in the hoodie was slumped, looking at their feet, whispering to themselves. I couldn’t make out any specific words. And then they were standing. Not that they stood, but that they were sitting and slumped, and then the next moment they were standing, sagging against the stall divider. And then they were at the sink, running their hand over the flowers in the vase, still whispering.

And then they were looking at me. Their hand tearing at the petals. They murmured louder.

I sprinted for daylight like it was my next heartbeat, and as I did I was able to pick out one word from their whispers.

I heard the word “praxis”.

It started with the death of a dog. Spike died, and Jerry started drinking again. His work suffered. His monastery slipped back toward being a rest area again. Then he called a Caltran supervisor, who he believed had poisoned his dog, and threatened him. Police came, his trailer was searched. Three guns were found.

Why did Jerry Morrissette, monk of the Highway Monastery, have three guns? Well, he did live in a parking lot that was once frequented by drug trade and gangs. But maybe it was because he lived in America, and so for better or worse… or worse… or worse… He could.

The state began eviction proceedings. Insult of all insults: they didn’t let him clean his bathrooms anymore. Brought in another worker to do it. The state even cast out on the most fundamental aspects of his story. Maybe there hadn’t been so much crime at the rest area before. Maybe Jerry Morrissette hadn’t done much more than be real good at cleaning. His single-handed transformation of a troubled place into a beautiful garden might have just been very good PR.

And that was it for Jerry Morrissette. A dead dog, a drunken phonecall, three guns, and the last of the decade and a half of his life cast into doubt.

An article from 2014 said that he moved to a trailer in south San Francisco. As of that article, he had been given six months to live. Cancer, of course. Always cancer.

There is no more sign of Jerry Morrissette on the internet after that. I presume he died, but I cannot tell you for sure. I can only tell you that there was a man who had gone to war and come back, and gone to religion and come back, and who turned a rest area into a place of worship for a few years. And then his dog died and it all ended.

There’s no moral to this story, but there is a real human life.

I couldn’t explain what I had seen, and my first instinct was to drive until the gas tank was empty. But I also felt like this might be one of my few chances to understand. I’d seen this person in a hoodie twice before. Once by the Fremont Troll, and again in video footage of a murder, in which the person had rescued Sylvia from the Thistle Man.

I needed to think, and so I climbed the trail up to the statue on the hill. The plaque said it was a Father Junipero Cera. It was lumpy and squat. The face drooped. And I realized what it looked like. A Thistle Man. The vague shape of a human, but not put together right, and stuffed in a skin that wasn’t the correct size.

I didn’t like the way it pointed out at the highway, so I descended the trail, and without letting myself hesitate... I went back into the bathroom.

A family of laughing women from three different generations went in just before me, so at least I wouldn’t be alone in there. Except, and maybe you saw this coming – the bathroom was empty. The air felt different than the air outside, a very different temperature. And the smell like a slow moving river, somewhere between clear water and algae. There was a vase with flowers on the sink. I looked into each of the stalls and there was no one there. I heard movement behind me, and I turned to see an older man with a long gray beard, wearing an orange safety vest, carefully arranging the flowers in the vase. “Excuse me,” he said, the details of his form lost in the dimness. And he nodded slightly and left.

As I watched him go, I heard the whispering behind me. The person in the hoodie sitting in the stall, folded over at the waist and whispering at the floor tiles. “Hello?” I said. The whispering got faster, more urgent, but they didn’t move. I reached out my hand, as though I’d be able to touch them, but I would not be able to touch them, so I took my hand back. “Hello?” I tried again. “You again!” said a voice to my left. The person in the hoodie was sitting on the sink, legs dangling. They were barefoot and their feet were filthy. “Or is this the first time?” “Who are you, hm? What do you know about me?” “I… am...” They thought about this for a moment, kicking their dangling feet. “I am an oracle. In hidden places on the highways, in the bathrooms at gas stations, behind the painted scenery of roadside attractions, in vans parked far out in the grass land, there are oracles on these roads.” “You can see the future,” I said.” “No,” they said. “You misunderstand me.” “What did I get wrong about what you said?” I asked. “No, I meant you misunderstand me. You don’t understand what I am.” “What do you want?” “I want to help you,” they said. They were back in the stall, flopped backwards against the tile like a person unconscious. I still couldn’t see any face under the drawn hood. “You are in danger.” [scoffs] “Huge revelation,” I said. “You’re blowing my mind.” “You don’t understand the danger.” “There’s a war,” I said. “Yes!” they said. “And I’m caught between the sides.” “Hhyess.” “So that much I understand,” I said. “Noo,” they said. “You don’t even understand the most basic shape of it.” And there was that question again. The question I’m starting to think might be at the heart of all of this. “What is praxis?” I said. “One day you will understand. And when that day comes we will be there to help you.” “What is praxis?” I insisted. The person in the hoodie rose, hanging limply by their arms like a toy in a child’s hand. They were whispering again. They came toward me, their toes dragging on the pristine floor. When they were very close, I could smell what I knew now, unmistakably, to be the thick smell of heather. I opened my mouth to scream, and as I did I saw for a moment in the hood two human eyes, and the wet reflected light of tears falling from then.

And then – laughter. One of the women from the family was coming out of a stall. The other two were at the sink. They were laughing about the woman in the stall’s brother, who had insisted on buying a number of paper maps, rather than just using his phone, but then couldn’t even read the maps correctly. I was standing there, trembling, my back against the sink. One of the other women looked at me oddly, but didn’t ask if I was OK.

The three of them left the bathroom. I looked at the sink. There was no vase, no flowers. The floor was muddy, needed cleaning. I leaned on the sink for a long time, trying to put some version of myself back together again. And then I pushed off of it, and shaky but me, I stepped back out into the light.

And now, a knock knock joke.

Knock knock. Knock knock. Is no one home? Or just no one answering? Or no one who can hear or is willing to hear? An empty hallway into an empty stair, at the top an empty bed? Or a quiet ear pressed just on the other side of this door hearing every word, but not caring enough to ask who I am? Is there breathing in that empty hall, is there a quiet foot on that stair? Is there warmth in that bed? Or is there just me, trying once again to enter a place I am not wanted? Either way. Knock knock. [wearily] Knock knock, knock knock forever, I guess.

[zerojanitor]

Gonna talk about the Paper Mario partners

1) Goombario

I always liked Goombario. He’s definitely the partner you get to hear from the most. I spent so much time taking him everywhere and getting next to every NPC to hear what he had to say. 10/10

2) Kooper

I can’t lie to you; I had a crush on Kooper when I was a kid. Probably just because I saw him in his underwear. Anyway, Kooper’s pretty cool his shell moves are fun and he’s got good fashion sense. 10/10

3) Bombette

AAAH I LOVE BOMBETTE ok everyone knows I love Jigglypuff and that extends to most pink spherical characters, especially Bombette. She’s spunky. 10/10

4) Parakarry

I always loved Parakarry. Like sure he’s just a mailman but that just makes it so much more badass when he fuckin, DIVEKICKS PEOPLE. Plus when he’s in your party you can deliver mail to people. And that’s pretty cool. 10/10

5) Bow

Everyone loves Bow. How can you not? She’s got that slappy move. Plus I think it’s really cool how she leads this privileged life but she joins along with you because she actually cares about the Boos living in the gulch. Heart of gold honestly, 10/10

6) Watt

Watt has always reminded me of Maggie Simpson and it’s not hard to see why. Being that she’s a baby there’s not much to say about her, but man you gotta feel bad for her being kidnapped and stuffed into a lantern for who knows how long. 10/10

7) Sushie

If Paper Mario had voice acting, you know Sushie would be played by Kath Soucie. She’s just got that stone butch vibe. She is, however, a great mother figure to the yoshis on Lavalava Island. Maybe Sushie takes care of Watt since she’s clearly not reuniting with her own mother anytime soon. 10/10

8) Lakilester

I could never pronounce this guy’s name and I’m not even sure I spelled it right. No wonder he wants to be known as Spike. Despite the airs he puts on, his cloud sure seems happy to chill with him. I wonder how his cloud feels about Lakilulu’s cloud. Do they double date? 10/10

[xopheliasunflowerx]

Two Maniacs In Love (P2) (Jerome Valeska Imagine)

Summary: Penguin gets you out of Arkham since you’re his best friend next to Edward Nygma. With you out but leaving your precious Joker, you have one request for Penguin. To get your Jerome out of Arkham. 

Request Ask: Please part 2!! 

Pairing: Jerome X Reader 

Warning: none 

Fandom: Gotham 

Season: I don’t know I’m making it up 😂 Mixture between season 2 & 3 

Part 1 Here

~*~*~*~ 

“Miss L/N, you’re free to go.” You hear as you turn to the guard with an confused expression on your face.

“Uh what?” You asked in an confused way, you looked at him with uncertainty as you lifted your brow. 

“You’re perfectly sane and you don’t require anymore treatment Miss L/N.” He said as you look back at Jerome as he was also shocked as you are. 

“Ah, let me get my things?” You asked him as he nods as he leaves you alone with Jerome. You turn to face him as shock hits you like a baseball bat. He looks about the same as you are. “I can’t leave! I can’t leave without you-” you started to freak out and fear of not seeing Jerome hits you hard, hard like a wreaking ball would hit you. 

Jerome hums as he puts on a thinking face, then an idea comes to his insane mind. He pulls on a signature smirk as he looks at you with something sparkled in his dark flaming blue ocean eyes told you that everything is going to be okay. 

“Doll listen! Someone has to be getting you out of here, right? And whoever they are, they’ve got plans for you. Big plans! But if they hurt you in any type of way, you come and get me and I swear that I’ll try to get out and I’ll give him the type of treatment that they need!” He said making you smile sheepishly. He was serious you can tell by the look in his eyes, full of emotions and darkness. 

His hand holding your own as he rubs his thumb over your delicate hand. As if this is the last time that you will ever touch his most soft skin. You look up at him with hope, honesty and shades of darkness. 

“I’m coming back for you! I promise you. Because I really wanted to go on that killing spree with you when we get out.” You said as he smiles as happy as the sun shines down. You reach for his soft lips as he reaches for your own, they finally touch as if it’s been a thousand years. You kiss him as if this is the last time you’ll ever see him, but you know that’s not true. You will see him again, you don’t care how long or how you’ll get him out you will see him again. 

~*~*~*~ 

 You walk out of the mad house, with all of your things in hand. You felt as if your trapped in another world full of people that are just sane. It’s so different than Arkham, especially without Jerome. 

You walk out of the gates to see a black car in front of the gates. Confused about the car and who it belongs to, but who would get you out of Arkham? 

Then all of a sudden, a person gets out of the car. He’s tall with jet black spike hair, his nose pointed out, he wears a black and white suit like a gentleman would wear. But something stands out about him, the way he walks. He limps towards you, up then down as he holds an umbrella. 

“Hello, my old friend. It’s nice to see you out of that hell hole.” He said, you recognised/recognized that voice from anywhere. 

“Oswald?” You ask as he chuckles, he pulls off his sunglasses to reveal his icy blue eyes. A wide smile shows off to you as he looks at you. 

“People haven’t called me Oswald in a long time.” He answers as he clicks his fingers and a man bigger than Oswald comes over and picks up your bags and puts them in the boot of the car. “The name’s Penguin.”

~*~*~*~ 

“Why did you break my out of Arkham? I was actually enjoying it there!” You outburst on Oswald making him laugh. 

“You couldn’t really like it there, Y/N? With all those manics around you?” He said making your hands turn tight into balls of fist. 

“No! I liked it there.” You said as you rubbed your arm feeling the nervousness wash all over you like a bucket of ice has been thrown on you. 

Oswald leans forward and puts his elbows out as he holds his hands, a curiously smirk gains on his lips. “Why did you like it there, Y/N? Like seriously?” He asked you as you bite your lip down.

“Because I found someone.” You said as Oswald frowns and leans closer towards you. 

“You found what?” He asked more strictly now. 

You take a deep breath as you look up at him full of confidence and anger. A frown reaches your face as you stand up. “I found someone that I liked, he changed the world for me. Making it more exciting and wonderful.” You said as you spoke full of honesty. Every word was true of it, Jerome made you happy everyday, but now you feel sad without hearing his laughter first thing in the morning. 

Oswald’s icy blue eyes widen in shock, his mouth hung open in shock. “You found someone? Like the someone that you like like?” He said surprisingly full of shock in his voice. You nodded. 

“Yes I found someone that I like, heck even love probably?!” You said as you felt your throat tighten and all of the moisture dries up leaving you dry. 

“Oh, okay.” He says sadly as he looks down from you. But then looks back at you with a smile, an evil one. “How about this? I’ll let you get him out and be happy because you’re my best friend.” He said leaving you confused, knowing Oswald he’ll give you something you want but you know that he wants something in return. 

“What do you want Oswald?” You ask full of awareness and confusion. Oswald laughs at you looking at Butch as he just stands there. 

“What I want in return? I want total chaos around this pathetic city. I don’t care what you do but do anything you want, I want you to be happy.” He said smiling as you frown but you I didn’t care, you can finally get Jerome out of that place and cause some real chaos.

~*~*~*~ 

“Jerome Valeska, your nurse is here to see you.” A guard calls out as they grab Jerome and putting him in a room. Jerome laughs as he looks at the guard. 

“Oh goodie, let’s see if this new nurse starts to go crazy?” He said as the guard looks at him, frowning at the red head. 

“Like the last two? I don’t think so Valeska.” He said as he throws Jerome into the room. The guard closes the door on him as Jerome looks up at the nurse. 

“Hello handsome, miss me?” You said turning to face your Jerome. Jerome’s eyes widen in shock, but shock gets removed by laughter. 

“Hello doll face, no time no see." 

~*~*~*~ 

"So you’re saying that Jerome is sane?” He asked you as you smile widely.

“Of course he is! I think he should be let out now!” You said making him more confused. 

“But I’m not sure that’s-” before you could finish you pull out a knife and hold it against his neck making him whimper. He smiles weakly and nervously at you as an uncomfortable laugh appears out of him. “Y-you know what? I think Jerome is sane.” He says nervously as you pull the knife away smirking. 

“I think so too." 

~*~*~*~ 

"HAHAHA! I can’t believe that I’m out of that trash hole and back in the real world.” Jerome says laughing wildly. You laugh with him as you drive the car. You quickly make a swift turn to the right but still laughing. 

People are walking normally on the road, but they stop and look at you both. They scream and run away or dodge the car. Jerome laughing his ass off when you almost hit someone. 

“Hey Jerome! Let’s go on that killing spree!” You said smiling widely, he turns around looking at you as an insane smile appears on his face, he laughs once again. 

“Of course Doll!” He said smiling. 

You pull over and park the car somewhere random. You get out of the car and skip your way to Jerome. 

“Who should we kill first?” You ask in a high pitch sort of tone. Jerome hums as he rubs his chin, thinking he sees a random person walking in the Ally way. He turns to you with a smirk in his lips. 

“That one.” He pointed to you as you smile widely. He then grabs your hand and skips your way to the man. 

“Let’s have some fun!”

~*~*~*~ 

After your done with your first kill, you and Jerome walk into the park and found some delicious ice cream. You had F/F (Favourite/favorite flavour/flavor) and Jerome had chocolate. Your hand in Jerome’s as you sit on a park bench laughing your heads off. 

“Did you see his face when you got the knife out! HAHAHA!!! Priceless!” He laughs as you giggle. 

“Yeah, oh and when you pulled out your gun!” You exclaimed as you both laugh historically. 

Once you calmed down you take a bite out of your ice cream and turn to Jerome who was looking at you the whole time. You blush as you turn around facing away from him. 

“I’m glad that you got me out.” He said as you smile widely and face towards him. His dark ocean blue eyes look at you with so much passion and love. 

“I’m glad that I did too.” You said as you snuggle closer towards him and resting your head into his neck. He places a kiss on your head making your heart beat faster than ever. 

You are really glad that you got him out in time before you went insane with out him, with him he keeps you sane. But same as always you both are just two maniacs in love.

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