#this movie has crawled into my brain like a worm

[afacelesschampion]

LONGLEGS (2024) dir. Osgood Perkins

[peachesofteal]

You think Soap would force Cypher into sparring with him under the guise of him being noble and teaching their civilian specialist how to defend herself? When in reality it's an excuse to body Cypher around and pin her to the ground to grind against her, nasty man that he is

The insane cackle that came out of mouth when I read this, such good brain worms, deep end brain worms.

18+ mdni / dark and twisty themes / forced orgasm, overstimulation, humiliation, dub con, Ghost is his own warning / soap x cypher masterlist

"Self defense?" You squeak, and he nods, pointing to the mat.

"If ye win, ye get to do whatever ye want with me, for the night." He answers, and your eyes brighten with excitement.

"Like, you could eat me out and wash my hair? And then we could watch a movie?" You bounce on your toes, grinning. Ye're so cute, he muses. So fucking perfect for him.

"Aye. And if I win... I get to do whatever I want with ye." He cautions, and you turn grave, considering with a tilted head.

"Okay." you blurt, too easily, and he almost laughs out loud.

It takes fifteen, twenty minutes to thoroughly wear you down. He glances touches across your tits, your ass, between your legs as the time passes, watching you squirm, watching you struggle with your internal battle, before he finally takes over, pinning you beneath him and making you call out in defeat.

He flips you on your back, settling between your legs, and your hips jerk, clothed cunt rubbing up against his half hard cock, and he jerks back in surprise, thrilled at the mischievous little look on your face. He tests it, grinding against you, pulling a little dazed moan from your lips, and he smiles, glancing at the clock. Almost time. Bold wee sweet, eh? We'll see how bold ye are.

"Should I give ye a reward, Cy? For bein' so bloody good for me?"

"Yes please, please. Sir." you plead, and he pulls at your pants, undressing you with frighteningly efficiency. He tosses your bra, pants and shirt to the side, pulling you upwards, stroking a thumb against the inside of your thigh, and then pressing against your clit, hard. When you moan, confirming his suspicions, his cock grows heavier in his pants, and shifts you so you're between his legs.

"Tell me yer safe word, Cypher." He cradles your face, ensuring he has your focus, and you stare at him with your wide, lovely eyes.

"It's c-code. Sir. Code."

"Good girl." He tucks you into his lap, still working his hand between your legs, stroking gentle and light touch overtop your panties, rubbing up and down the seam of your cunt, muscles and body twitching in his arms. "Think ye can come jus' like this? Just with me touching ye over yer panties?" You grunt out a response, and he taps at your clit, little whines slipping from your lips. "That's it, there ye go. Can ye give me a big one? Want to see ye cum, Cy." He's not giving you enough friction, he knows, and your hips rock, chasing his touch, growing more and more desperate, oblivious to everything else happening in the room.

But Johnny's not. Johnny's watching, see's when Ghost slips inside with a nod. When he picks up a chair on the edge of the room, and quietly sets it up not even three meters from where Johnny has you, in only a thong, on the sparring mat. He's still rubbing your pussy, circling around your clit, and when you shift, you catch sight of the Lieutenant for the first time, and you shriek, going rigid in his arms, legs snapping closed around his hand.

"It's okay, wee sweet." Johnny murmurs. "I've got ye." His fingers don't stop, and you breathe heavily in his arms, trying to crawl inside him, and hide.

"S-sir." you whine, pressing your face into Johnny's neck. He can feel hot how your skin is, how embarrassed you are, and he coos to you, still rubbing over your panties.

"What is it?"

"He... he's watching." You whisper, and he chuckles.

"Ah know, my genius. C'mon, don't ye want to show him how good ye are?" He murmurs, peppering kisses across your cheek, to your nose. You shake your head, but he's much stronger than you, able to turn you between his legs so that you're facing Ghost now, one of Johnny's hands wrenching your thigh wide. "Isn't she a sight, LT?" He nods, big, gloved hand palming the thick bulge in his pants, squeezing his cock, and he snickers. "I dinnae if she's ready for that, hasn't even take me yet, have ye, Cy?" You don't answer, and he waits another second for drifting his touch beneath the hem of your thong, and pinching your clit.

"No sir." You squeak, and he rewards you, circling pulsing slowly, achingly so, enough that your panting increases.

"Let's show him this pretty wee cunt, aye?" You choke on a shocked gasp, and pressed back into him, curve of your ass against the rock hard cock in his pants, and he laughs again, tugging at your underwear until it's down by your knees. Ghost's gaze is hot above the balaclava, watching you, staring at the wet pussy that's revealed, and Johnny tucks your feet on the outside of his boots, essentially pulling you apart like a oyster, exposing your pearl. "Dinnae move your legs." He whispers, giving you another kiss. "Or I'll let Ghost spank ye. And you won't like how he does it, I promise ye."

"S-Sir... Johnny-" you try to protest, but his fingers slide through your slick curls, and he's so pleased that you're already soaked.

"Do ye need to use the safe word?" He asks, and you pause, holding your breath... before shaking your head no. "Good girl, Cy. Gettin' all wet for me. Showin' Ghost your bonnie pussy." He presses the pad of his finger to your opening, just barely dipping inside, and you moan, head tipping back on his shoulder, eyes clenched shut. "Do ye like it, knowing he's watching?" He asks, pushing into your tight hole even more, and you shiver, trying to tell him no, but unable to get the word out. "I think ye do. I think that's why ye're soaked. Yer body canae lie, can it?"

"No sir." You breathe.

"What do ye think, LT?" He asks, and Ghost nods his approval, staying quiet. His cock is out now, gloved hand working it in long, lavish strokes, thickest thing Johnny's ever seen, and he smirks. "Ah know, it's hard to see her wee clit under all this." His index and middle finger parts your folds, exposing your center, and he watches Ghost's jaw part beneath the fabric. "Cy doesnae know it yet, but she's going to let me take care of everything soon. We're goin' start with shaving this bonnie cunt." He flicks his tongue across your cheek. "Let me show ye how it comes." He rasps, and you shake your head.

"N-no. No, Sir. Johnny, I c-can't-"

"Yes, ye can." Your legs kick, just a little, trying to close, and he grunts, tempted to smack your thigh to still you. This is not punishment, he reminds himself. You're still trying, thighs squeezing against his knees, and Ghost cocks his head, tucking his cock back into his pants, and stepping from the chair to crouch in front of where Johnny has you spread.

"Be still." He grunts, and then his hands replace Johnny's folding over your knees, keeping them pinned to Johnny's legs.

"S-Sir." You stutter, nervous, unsure, and he soothes you, glancing his touch over your lower belly.

"Shhh, ye're alright, Cy. Ye're safe. We're jus' goin' show Ghost here how beautifully ye come."

"Sir I- I can't- not with... not with him. Watching." you whisper, but your body says otherwise, and he can feel how hot your clit is, how desperate you are to orgasm.

"Ah think ye can, wee sweet. Just relax." He glances at Ghost, who's watching intently, one hand still holding your leg wide, although the other one is now staying on it's own. "Can ye see, LT?"

"Not really. Too much hair." He comments, like it's nonchalant, forcing Johnny to swallow a small laugh, nodding down to where his fingers work.

You gasp when Ghost's fingers spread your folds, parting them so he can see you better, stretching the hood of your clit upwards to reveal your swollen bud, and you jerk forward to stare at him, before whimpering and slamming your eyes shut again.

"Sir-"

"Ah know, ah know." He murmurs. "Can ye show Ghost how ye come, Cy? Can we show him how pretty ye are, when ye have an orgasm?" You shake your head with more denial, but your hips jerk as he works you, swirling around and around your clit, fingers soaked with slick.

"She's clenching 'round nothing." Ghost observes, and he nods.

"She does that. Really needs a fat cock for that hole, but we're not there yet, are we bonnie?" You suck in a sharp breath, and then pant out some nonsense, stretching against him. You're still flexing your hips with his touch, and he can feel how your muscles are tightening, tensing beneath him. "I think, she's almost... aye, there ye go. Are ye gonna come for my Lieutenant, Cypher?" He coos, knowing that you're on the brink, even though you're fighting it, trying desperately not to come, and Ghost chuckles, smug as hell. He increases his pace, feeling it all, your breath, your muscles, the stuttering of your hips, and he knows, he knows you're about to dive off the edge, whether you want it or not. "That's it, deep breath. Here it comes. Here ye go, wee sweet, come on-" Your fingers dig into his pants, wail cresting from your lips, and swoops his mouth over yours, swiping his tongue against yours, lapping up the sound and taste of your shrieks.

"Oh good, good girl." Ghost sings, but not to you, to your pussy, his thumb releasing it's hold and stroking over your too sensitive clit, rubbing you through the aftershocks while you bleat out a plea for him to stop. "What a sweet little pussy you have for my Sergeant, Cypher." He looks ridiculously pleased as he pulls away, tugging up the bottom of his balaclava to stick his finger in his mouth to taste you, and rolling up onto his feet. He squeezes his cock one last time, and then gives Johnny a nod.

"Alright, wee sweet. Ready to go? Let's get ye back to yer room, and we can watch that movie, aye?" Johnny hums into your hair, and nod, a little limp, but sated. Good girl.

[steviewashere]

Rhetorics and Bad Days

Rating: General CW: None apply! Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has a Bad Time, Steve Harrington is an Ugly Crier, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Forehead Kisses, Slight Love Confessions, Getting Together (Sorta Kinda/More Implied Afterwards)

Tripped and fell last night and wrote 3.2k words. Inspired by @scoops-aboy86 idea and my stupid little headcanon from this post!

💕—————💕

It seems like everyday was a bad day when you were somebody like Steve Harrington. Considering the good majority of his life the last four years, give or take, has been a cartwheel of nightmares and torture and blood and injuries—And, well. Obviously he has bad days.

Though, typically, it can be resolved and done over with a hot shower, maybe some stupid movie that he honk-laughs at, a warm blanket and a freshly dried pillowcase. Little things. Little good things that are able to calm him some, at least. Give him something else to think of, at most. He doesn’t have to do anything like cry or breakdown or yell until his voice is hoarse, that’s what he tells himself. Because, what’s been ingrained in his head, men don’t cry. Men don’t get hysterical. Men don’t break that emotional mold.

Though those words are definitely booming and deep and flat like his dad’s. That’s not his brain. Those aren’t his words. But it sure as hell is what he’s been exposed to for far too long.

And maybe that’s why, standing in the barren living room of his brand new (albeit worn down, caulked heavily, all too warm) apartment, he finds the rhetoric silenced. In a fresh space. With crooked blinds and awfully filled tack holes. A kitchen fit for a (former) king. Little breakfast nook that only allows for two dining chairs under the south facing windows. Barely any sunlight able to stream through. His bedroom cramped with just a queen sized mattress placed haphazardly on the floor, definitely crushing some well-loved Playboy magazines, crooked to the wall at his head because the movers carrying it were too tired from the recently odd mid-fall heat, and a decently sized freshly made spiderweb in the corner—he shivers at the thought of something alive and crawling watching him sleep at night. And the glorious bathroom—preemptively marked with darkened piss stains on the floor and a smell birthed from over-indulgence on alcohol. 

It’s his, though. Well, his and Eddie’s.

Eddie has his own bedroom, similar size to Steve’s (think of a shoebox used to bury that poor hamster from your youth, dead from eating too many baseball cards), ceiling light stained with god worshipping moths, and a window that half-opens if he jiggles it the right way. They share that grimy bathroom. And he brought the living room couch, something that had been sitting on his and Wayne’s back porch for some time, definitely a little mud stained and mildew smelling from rain, but it’s not the worst. Not the best. Not even good. But it’s their space, freed from the confines of Hawkins, new and shiny for all of Indianapolis to see.

The rhetoric is gone in Steve’s brain. Like skin shed from his sunburned body. Peeling and crackling to every surface he finds himself on or leaning against or standing with. It evades him. Leaves him with something viciously young and terribly hungry.

Steve Harrington is prone to bad days. Bad weeks. Bad things.

The unfortunate luck begins anew an exact week from when they move in.

October 20th, 1986 is his first day back at Family Video. He’d been transferred, referred much to Keith’s dismay, but probably his pleasure, too. (Considering how immediate his response had been to Steve’s question.) But it was his first day back. Didn’t need to be trained. Just hooked like a fish to deceased worm bait, thrown out to the river that is their block’s neighbors and strangers and mere acquaintances that feel no better or worse about having new people take residency on their street, but he’s also not reeled back in at the end of his shift. If anything, he’s tangled in his own wire, flopping, gasping for water, drying to the gravel by the shallow give of the river’s flow. He is stranded behind the register. Returning customers telling him he should know what they like, or what discount they need, or how many movies they’ve checked out previously. That he should know that a particular customer is friends with the owner of the Family Video he so sorely resides in. But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. So he makes do. He powers through it. Feigns mundane annoyance like gum flavorless between his teeth, though he’s biting his tongue to not sob.

That’s not where the bad ends. No. Of course not.

He’s within walking distance to their apartment. Which should be fine. In fact, it’s incredibly handy because even if he were running late to work, he could blame it on something stupid. (‘My key broke off in the lock, had to bother the landlord.’ ‘Yeah, had a leak in the bathroom this morning, have to report it just in case it tries to flood the downstairs neighbors.’ ‘It’s odd, seems like the lock loves to devour my keys.’ Nervous laughter.) But just because he’s within walking distance does not mean that life is plainly simple. No, what happens is he gets soaked with dirty road rain water. Was it mentioned that it’s been raining all day? No? Well, it has been. And it’s a downpour. Forecast said it would happen tonight, not midday, not while he’s trying to power walk home so he can make the peanut butter and jelly sandwich of his dreams. But it does. Because of course. And some asshole, screaming out their window to tell him that he should’ve worn a raincoat, speeds by. Coating him from collarbone to toe in the mucky rainwater of a city that’s too busy for a place like bumfuck Indiana. At least in Hawkins everybody knows your name; at least they have the common decency to let you stroll on by before they make a major move like that. But in a city bustling with busy, selfish, awful people—because aren’t all city inhabitants like this, should he have realized something like this was bound to happen? Well, he did. Just didn’t think it would take less than a month for it to occur.

Sopping wet. Exhausted and burnt out. Hungry like a rabid stray dog. He walks briskly. Skipping over the cracks and lines in the sidewalk, no matter how much disdain he tastes for his mother. Missing freshly spat out gum by mere centimeters. Shoulder checking a few too slow pedestrians, their sneering faces burning into his back. And the next awful thing comes in like a planned prank on some mocking little sitcom show. Dog shit. Pure dog shit, brown and putrid and soft on the sole of his right Adidas Superstar. His brand new shoes. The shoes he got himself less than a month ago. Shoes that he had been eyeing for years, but couldn’t muster the courage or the reason to buy them. And now there’s dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. He smears it on the concrete, squishing it further into the ridges of his sole, scraping it against the harsh ground. Tries his best. Checks the bottom of the shoe precariously. And without missing a beat…topples down onto his ass, thankfully away from the smeared shit, but down onto the ground nonetheless. He prickles, stands up on his shaky legs, dusts off his ass, and storms the rest of the way home.

Maybe he shouldn’t slam the door. But it’s barely anything in comparison to the rest of his day. He shouldn’t do it. He knows that it could get them a noise complaint. Though, the way it vibrates against his back, settling deep into the wood, stepping out of his sneakers to wash in the tub in a few—it’s all too good. 

The anger begins to dissipate from him in just that small action.

Then, again like a well-mannered sitcom scene, in barrels Eddie from his bedroom. Arms crossed over his chest, hip popped to the side, harsh scowl to his face. “Man, are you fucking serious?” He spits.

“What?” Steve asks, panting, breathless, absolutely done with today. With tomorrow. With the rest of this week.

“I told you this morning that I was going to be studying in my room! All day! Told you that I wanted it to be quiet, and the first thing you do when you get home is slam the door shut?!” He growls. Snarling, he continues, “And what about the noise complaints?! We can’t afford any of those, we need this place! Could you not—“

Steve pushes past him, shoes in hand, work bag slung down like a bomb to the floor. Leaving its contents scattered. A copy of Airplane! on VHS, some stickers reading ‘Be kind, rewind’, measly three dollars, and his Family Video vest. All of it strewn about their place. Pooling murky water on the surface, just as Steve’s clothes were dripping everywhere else. He closes himself in the bathroom, but doesn’t lock the door. In fact, that stupid fucking lock doesn’t even work. Nothing works. He stays in there anyway. Really, they should clean in here. Clorox the hell out of every surface. Maybe see if the piss stains will come up with a harshly gripped mop. But instead of those important things, he tosses his sneakers into the bathtub, and sits with his head in his hands on the closed toilet lid. Mushy socks to the tiled floor. Pants uncomfortably drying and chafing on his legs. Underwear like a second skin to his balls. His polo tight across his back and terribly moist.

Shoves his palms harsh into his eyes and whistles through his nose. “Fuck,” he mutters, lip wobbling with the word.

A tentative knock to the door startles him. “Steve?” Eddie’s voice rings out. It’s murmured, careful, testing the syllables on his tongue. “Hey, can I come in? I’m—“ He sighs, the anger he had before blowing away from him. “I’m sorry,” he sincerely apologizes. “I’m sorry that my first instinct was to get mad. I—“

“Just come in,” he croaks. It’s not very loud, but it must be enough because Eddie pushes the door open mere seconds later.

He sighs, mouth downturning when he sees Steve on the toilet. Meekly holds up Steve’s also brand new messenger bag. Stained like the tiled flooring under their socked feet. It’s sodden and depressing. “Hey,” he mutters. 

Steve just hums in return. Looking up to Eddie from the toilet, he must be a sorry sight. All soaking wet, spine hunched and scrunched in a horrifically twisted amalgamation, hair limp in his eyes. Something has to read on him for Eddie to be gazing at him the way he is. All big eyes and sorry mouth and his shoulders slouched like he’s admitting defeat. Part of Steve doesn’t want him to, wants him to keep getting riled, yelling about their lease and the slammed doors and the forgetfulness that seems to flow through Steve just as easily as blood. Wants to be called names. Wants to have a non-delicate conversation about how much of a screw-up he is, how he should’ve listened to his father and never moved away, why he’s a disaster of a person. Tell Steve all the ways in which he’s deserving of the bad days. Deserving of their frequency. Deserving of misery.

“Are you—No, you probably aren’t, but I’m asking anyway. Are you okay, Steve?”

That—Well, that breaks something in him. The final block on his wobbling tower of everything and too much. Under his skin, like weak twigs, his ribs are snapping. Crumbling beneath him to make room for the way his lungs expand with the need to gasp. The need to hiccup his way through a terrible explanation.

His mouth twitches, lips pursing. Looks away. “I—“ Steve rasps. “No,” he sobs.

Warmth crowds him, all too sudden and all too much. Hands gravitating to his magnetic pull. Squeezing his shoulder and pushing back his stringy hair. Though, immediately and dizzyingly, he is reminded of that stupid rhetoric. He shouldn’t follow it. Shouldn’t even allow it to have the vice grip it does on his brain.

But he shakes Eddie off, standing uneasily from the toilet, walking around him. He paces into the kitchen, hungry and shaking and needed to do something. Get his energy out one way or another. Fight off the tears, no matter how relieving they would be. Clatters through the cupboards. Finds the cheap, shitty, generic white bread. And an already half-eaten jar of peanut butter, odd peaks and valleys in it as if somebody’s been chowing down on it with a spoon. That doesn’t matter, though. At least there’s any peanut butter at all.

Eddie’s not too far behind him. Standing in the kitchen’s entryway, hands floating in front of him, reaching out for Steve. “Hey, Stevie, I can make you a sandwich. Y’know, if you want to change out of your clothes. Must be uncomfortable,” he’s placating.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Steve lies to himself. Because he needs this to be true. Just this one good thing. One thing he can do for himself. Make something he wants to eat. Something he’s been thinking about all day. Something that plasters an easy enough smile to his already half-puffy face, tears encroaching and sobs clawing their way up to his throat. But when he grabs for the jelly, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He slams the door of the fridge closed. No jar in sight. Not a single kind. No marmalade or strawberry jam or even the nasty grape jelly he bought for when Robin visits. There’s nothing. “Are you—“ He groans, huffs, and hiccups.

Attempting to cover himself, he shoves his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes.

The one thing he can’t let Eddie see, because crying is going to happen whether Steve likes it or not, is that he’s an ugly crier. The ugliest, and he knows that. All bubbled snot and dripping its residue over his top lip. Lips bitten red raw from muffling the sobs. Spit burbled in the corners of his mouth. Choking on wet gasps, hiccuping with his whole body, trying to drink the air around him. Skin going splotchy red and hideously swollen, the swelling still apparent even two hours later.

With the first sob, he knows it won’t be possible to hide this breakdown. Eddie’s already inching closer, hands still out in front of him. Steve is a wounded animal, it seems like. He cries loud and shameful, mouth dropped open, his saliva bubbling between his teeth. Already choking on his first gasp.

“It’ll be alright, Stevie,” Eddie tries to soothe, “We can get more jelly, it’s alright.”

“No,” Steve cries, “No! It’s not—“ A series of short, hiccuping, wet gasps. Followed then by a snotty snort, bubbled and causing his breath to whistle. “Such a bad day,” he attempts to explain, voice keening, high pitched in the back of his throat. “Everybody was so mean—Clothes are—All wet and gross—“ Heavy swallow like trying to consume large shards of glass. He flaps his hands at his sides, scrunching them, trying to squeeze himself back to his ordinary box. But instead, more snorting sobs leave him.

Eddie places a warm hand on the back of Steve’s neck. Thumb digging into a knot that’s forming. He puts his other palm on his bare arm, coaxing him over to one of the dining chairs. Settles him down and crouches in front of his sob-riddled, hiccuping, contorting body. Holding Steve’s face with one hand, he reaches for the crumpled bandana in his back pocket, raising it between them. “Look at me, Stevie baby,” he murmurs, “Let me help you.” Steve drags his eyes away from where they’d been zeroed in on the floor. Locking with Eddie’s own sad and soft gaze. “There you are,” Eddie whispers. He gently strokes Steve’s cheek with the edge of his bandana. Gliding it over his skin, patting at the drying tear tracks. His other hand, thumb wedged near the corner of Steve’s mouth, wipes away at the spittle. “I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he mutters, “But we’ll get it back on track, alright? You’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise you’ll be okay.”

Steve’s lips wobble. “I thought you were mad,” he nasally whispers. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Stopping his slow and careful work, Eddie stares in heartbreaking dismay. “You deserve nice things, Steve. It doesn’t matter that I was mad. I’m not mad anymore.” And then he runs his bandana over the snot trails under Steve’s nose. Looking on with an odd mix of sadness and reverence. Thumb not even wiping anything away anymore, simply caressing over Steve’s heated, swollen skin.

He swallows glass again. Blinks sluggishly. Calmed down, oddly. This is probably the quickest cry he’s ever had. He chuckles, “God, I’m such an ugly crier, man.” Sighs. “Can’t believe you’re willingly wiping at my snot right now. ’T’s nice.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, sweetheart. I don’t even think you’re ugly.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“What—I’m being honest!” Eddie quietly exclaims. He shifts the hand on Steve’s jaw, palm cupping his cheek, fingers splayed over his ear, holding him in a sweet yet fragile way. “Steve, you’re, like, gorgeous. I hate seeing you so upset, but you’re like an angel or something when you cry.” He draws his bandana away, but brings it back to cover the end of Steve’s nose. “Blow into this,” he instructs. And so Steve does, blowing out whatever didn’t already leave him in his crying episode. Eddie pulls it back again, not even grimacing at what is surely a squelching snot-covered mess in his hand. He massages his fingers into the hair around Steve’s ear. Gazing. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, reiterating. “And you deserve nice things, especially after what a clusterfuck of a day you must’ve had. And you deserve to breakdown every once in a while. Don’t have to hide just because you think you shouldn’t cry or because you’re ‘ugly’ or whatever.”

“Thanks, Eds,” Steve squeaks. Face flushing with heat, gratefully not from tears. He flashes a small smile, modest but there, for the first time today. “You really mean all that? Even when you called me sweetheart?”

Eddie is bashful, smile stretching, going red in the face, tilting his head as if assessing. But the lovesick sheen to his eyes says he’s already made up his mind. “Yeah,” he murmurs, careful and devoted, “yeah, baby. I do mean all that I said.”

“Can I have one more good thing?” Steve tentatively asks.

“What’s that?”

He touches between his eyebrows. “Forehead kiss?” (And sure, maybe he does pout a little, but can you blame him?)

Eddie, without missing a beat, leans forward, fiercely cupping Steve’s cheek, pressing a slightly damp kiss to Steve’s skin. Then under his eyes. The tip of his nose. Corner of his mouth. Pulls back, whispering, “You can have all the kisses you want, sweetheart.” Still caressing Steve, he offers, “How ‘bout I go get you some new jelly while you take a warm bath? And when you’re out, clean clothes and not shivering, we can curl up on the couch and watch that movie you got?”

“Okay,” Steve mutters.

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs back. He presses one more kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Let’s make this a good day, baby.”

💕—————💕

[artist-issues]

Day Nine💖

(reminder that if anybody wants me to stop sending these asks at any time, just tell me and I will stop!)

what is the thing that you are the most passionate about in life and why? what sparked your interest in it? is their a goal with it you want to reach, and are you actively working on your passion, or is it just something you know a lot about?

It should be Jesus but I don’t think it is, not perfectly, not all the time. What I tell myself and others it is, most of the time, is “storytelling.” But what I think it actually is (most of the time, but not when I’m in the Spirit) is self-glorification and wanting to be famous.

So there’s the triple-nature. What I should be passionate about, what I want to be passionate about, what I am passionate about underneath it all. But only one of those things is going to actually endure, and it’s “what I should be passionate about.”

Anyway.

What sparked my interest in storytelling was a combo of factors, but I remember the exact moment it came together clearly. I was getting ready for church and I’d been up all night (because at this point in my life I was like 19 and having trouble sleeping was a thing.) And I was trying to decide what to do with my life. I had interest in animated movies and in counseling but I didn’t know what to go to college for, so I was taking a gap year.

And as I was getting ready for church my draft table had the “Lilo & Stitch: Collected Stories From the Film’s Creators” book open on it, and I was listening to a worship playlist in my room and thinking about movies, and thinking about telling some of the kids I worked with in student ministries what made Lilo & Stitch kind of a Gospel story and how I could tell that to them convincingly.

(This is not my picture, but the book looks like this.)

It was open to the producer’s foreword. And this song came on my playlist:

Which is about how God is the inventor and producer behind everything. It’s Tyler Joseph and Travis Whittaker. But I wasn’t familiar with this song yet, so I thought the lyrics were saying “You’re the author, the producer, the inventor of the scene.” It’s not, it’s “inventor of the seed,” but whatever, same principle.

Then like I was having some kind of dramatic realization, the vague idea that all of life was a movie God made, and the main point was Himself, and all man-made stories that were good had nuggets of that in them, clicked together. I had never thought of reality that way before.

And ll through that morning’s service and yammering to my mother at lunch afterward, I was just thinking thinking thinking about it. About how, in movies, the setting tells the story as much as the characters and events tell the story. (Stitch starts out in vast outer space where all the ships look vaguely like fish—then the scene transitions to a small, folksy town with a local feel, but still plenty of fish imagery.) And how, in God’s “movie,” the plants and the way they work tell the story of the Gospel. Seeds, growth, death, rebirth. How the seasons do the same thing. How the animals do the same thing—the freakin caterpillar is a crawling worm, then goes into a kind of death for a period of time, then comes out a new creation.

The art of storytelling, settings, characters, narrative, and all, is just a hobbled-together copy of how God has been communicating from the dawn of time.

And my brain was racing, and I remember thinking about the idea that Christians are supposed to be “little Christs.” Well, if He was THE storyteller who told His story to show us Himself, then what better could I do than be a little storyteller who showed people Him, too? Not just with my career and my writing and art, but with the way I obeyed Him with my life, obviously.

But that’s how I decided what to go to school for. And that’s what got me into the industry I’m in now.

All that to say, if there’s anything that is actually accurate about reality and God in my little “realization” or philosophy, it’s only because God showed it to me, not because I came up with it myself. And if it’s not accurate, He didn’t show it to me, I made it up and heaven help me. But so far I think He did show it to me, so I keep trying to tell stories without letting that become an idol.

[doomspiral]

Doom's Movie Rec List

Some of these are bangers, some of these are the worst thing I have ever seen in my life, but I think they are all worth watching and enjoying one way or another. Sometimes the enjoyment is cringe and sometimes its staring at a wall for three hours. <3

The seventh seal (1957)

Classic chess game with Death film, I presume the entire thing is Bergman staring into the soul of the viewer in dead silence until you can read his mind.

The cabinet of Dr. Caligary (1920)

Strange, lurching, I watched this in German without knowing enough to keep up and I believe my confusion added to the experience.

Atomic blonde (2017)

This is my favorite movie. This is the one that I can't stop rewriting in my fics. I can't get the "lies" soliloquy out of my mind. My soul is tied to this fillum. Hot insane woman does a lot of violence, kisses women, beats up a guy who truly deserves it. Iron Curtain Spy Nonsense.

Hackers (1994)

Am I depressing you? Good, watch Hackers to experience child-like wonder and also see a grown man skateboard down a foggy street in the middle of the night to harass the homosexual teenagers (and slim shady) he's beefing with.

The core (2003)

This is not a good movie. But there is a little freak in there named "Rat" who I am obsessed with.

Angel's egg (1985)

This is the kind of movie where you have to not try to figure out what's going on and instead let it take you by the hands, just experience it, just keep your mouth shut and your mind at rest and you can consider the implications afterward when its safe.

Princess mononoke (1997)

I watched this as a child and saw those beasts dissolve into bloody worms and apparently that left a lasting mark on my brain.

Nausicaä of the valley of wind (1984)

I actually read the manga for this one but this is a movie rec list, so please go watch this for the death and rebirth vibes, and some mild foeyay yuri.

Invasion of the body snatchers (1978)

Horror movie that's odd and disturbing and clearly betraying some better dead than red fears, worth it for the horrible despicable freakish noise the guy makes at the end while pointing at the viewer.

Strange days (1995)

Please read up on this before watching it, it revolves around a fictional, then-futuristic critique of the adult film industry, HEAVY focus on the capitalistic dehumanization and devaluing of human life.

Underworld (2003)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters. Core memory.

Blade (1998)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters but maybe you need a break from how white this whole movie list is overall. That's okay, I see you, this vampire flick fucks severe.

Fright night (1985, 2011)

The first movie is pretty campy (fun) but the remake dug into my actual stressors and fears and scared the lights from my eyes for a day or two. Welcome... to FrrrighT NighT.

Dracula (1931, 1992)

First movie is a classic, this is thee one with the guy crawling around like a lizard and there's armadillos for no reason. The 90's version has no business being as deranged as it is and for this it is a core personality trait movie.

Fast&furious: Tokyo drift (2006)

Not sure I would say this is peak cinema but it's a racing movie that falls in line with the F&F tradition of being clearly in love with the entire premise, location, and cast. Rent free.

Drive (2011)

I like this movie because it is not about the guy getting the girl, it is about doing the right thing every single time because that's what it takes to be a real human bean. being. whichever. I was so obnoxious about this movie when I watched it with my now-ex gf that I wish I could siphon the memory of it out of her brain, because I kept pointing at actors I knew.

Green room (2015)

This is the best punk parable I can think of. Litany against not reading the room, litany against being the hero when there's no one to save, litany against thinking shared trauma is gonna get you any pussy.

Lords of chaos (2018)

I'm obsessed with the band Mayhem there is no other explanation.

There will be blood (2007)

WILD WEST TOXIC YAOI. I'm not apologizing for this summary and I'm not elaborating.

Butch Cassidy and the sundance kid (1969)

I don't know. I watched this in the wee hours of the morning with my best friend and actually cried about it. Doomed criminals and a famous final stand.

Saw (2004)

I used to watch Saw movies when I lived in the trailer park while hiding from my family in a neighbor's place so I don't know if these movies are good or if I needed to watch tortureporn to relax bcs the roof leaked on my bed when it rained? But I think everyone should at least watch the first movie or how are you going to play any games?

Chernobyl diaries (2012)

I walked out of this movie shaking head to toe and couldn't think about anything else for months. I don't think I'd be as scared now but I can't say if that's because I'm not 16 anymore. Warning against going into a dangerous situation with a guy you met off Craigslist.

Constantine (2005)

Demon hoards, evil angels, catholic bullshit, 9/10.

The neverending story (1984)

Well after all that let's reinstate some whimsy into our souls again bcs this is the Jim Henson Power Hour. This one is just a solid entry point into "puppets are fun and practical effects are my best friend".

The dark crystal (1982)

My babysitters put this on for me as a bed-time story when I was five (5) years old and I do not believe I slept, I think they regretted this and had to tell my parents what they did. But now I will never stop making Skeksis noises at people I love.

Labyrinth (1986)

Y'know the phenomenon of alt teens and preteens dating young adult men who are total and complete losers, including actual band members? It's not that this pre-dates any of that, but I believe it does a good job representing it through the lens of a modern fairy tale. Like when you watch this you have to realize this is wish fulfillment for people who want to be Sarah because their age-gap goth boyfriend in the real world is a manipulative disappointment.

Pacific rim (2013)

Love letter to the mecha and kaiju genre(s). Makes no sense, compels me though.

Eurotrip (2004)

This is the movie "Scotty doesn't know" is from. Some high schoolers fuck off to Europe and have the most misadventure possible. It's somehow exactly the kind of cringe humor you would expect from the 00's without being cruel or overly disgusting. I used to watch a lot of really bad 00's comedies and this is a good one I promise. Scussie.

Hamlet (1996)

Personality point, I think this is the best version on film because the guy actually looks like how I envisioned Hamlet. Ignore your girl! Avenge your dad!

Advantageous (2015)

This movie goes in on the connection between race and class in a sci-fi future where you can change the former through predatory, dangerous cosmetic surgery.

Gravity (2013)

This is my go-to movie when I need to sob like a sick little baby. Space travel as a metaphor for motherhood, spaceships as the womb, scientists are the babies who left their babies back on earth. It's about what you give up in the name of fulfilling your human urge for the unknown.

All clear on the western front (2022)

Thee anti-war fillum. Very well done. I never recovered from one of the final scenes to the point I wrote a final paper on it. Without spoiling it, the Ending gave me the feeling of when you're a kid and you want to go play, but you're grounded and you fall asleep listening to your friends outside in the street. I hope this sentence ruins your life if you watch this movie.

Inglorious basterds (2009)

They lock some nazis in a theatre and set them on fire, good cinema.

Shadow dancer (2012)

Domhnall Gleeson in one of his classically pathetic twink roles but its about British imperial violence and Irish reactionary violence.

Logan (2017)

Good art film, a story about dementia, legacies, and why putting children in cages is fucking evil.

The batman (2022)

Weird art film, next question.

Joker (2019)

I do not care about the opinions of straight men who watch things uncritically, this is a good movie because of the depictions of poverty in the US. I don't believe this needed to be about the DC Joker this should have been a standalone art film about a mime.

Dragonheart (1996)

Medieval era dragon nonsense, I will never be convinced this is a bad movie.

Sleeping beauty (1959)

Personality trait was rooting for the dragon.

Snow dogs (2002)

I'm not defending this one it stands on its own, please watch this movie if you wanna see Cuba Gooding Jr. bite a husky's ear so it'll stop ruining his life.

Luck of the irish (2001)

This movie is genuinely so bad I have considered it some kind of hate crime since the day it came out, because I watched this the day it was a direct-to-TV movie. I think I was too young to feel insulted but I was deeply, deeply bemused.

Black swan (2010)

There is a woman inside her and she is trying to crash the plane. Can I get away with calling this foe-yay yuri also? I'm going to.

I, tonya (2017)

Sufjan Stevens' song "Tonya Harding in Eb major" makes me so unreasonably emotional, so one day I watched this movie and then the film of the 1988 Calgary Olympics in the living room while all of my housemates had to sneak around in the dark. This is just a solid movie about ambition, betrayal, abuse, tragedy, and having to get over it and move on because you're not dead yet.

Phantom of the opera (2004)

Whatever was going on in Labyrinth, this is the adult version. Weird man in a sewer possessing a soprano. I think there's some gender happening here but it gets a little lost under the love(?) triangle.

A knights tale (2001)

Just go watch some more medieval nonsense, it's good for you, its fun.

White chicks (2004)

I'm not defending this choice, it's a good movie. "You were thinking it" "Yeah but you said it" there are some phrases you could use to see if I had been replaced with a body double and this is one of them.

Heathers (1988)

Ouughhgh ough oh. Personality trait. Watched this because I kept listening to the musical soundtrack, love both but agree the themes are much tighter in the movie. This is just a fun schlock to tell teens life is stupid and difficult and bad things will happen, so don't abandon your friends.

Priscilla queen of the desert (1994)

Classic homo fillum, if you wonder why I write Gilbert Like That it's partially because of the mean little fruit from this movie. It's about the Aussie drag scene and who belongs in the queer community.

300 (2006)

I'm not sure that I would call this a "good" movie, but it's a classic as far as I'm concerned. This is the "THIS IS SPARTA" movie.

The foreigner (2017)

I actually don't remember the plot of this one too solidly but the suspense and action were solid, and I enjoyed the setup. Good for if you wanna be really pissed off for two hours.

Conan the barbarian (1982)

Look at me. Look into my eyes. You're going to watch this movie. You're going to think about the wheel of pain and you're going to go wow, this is so stupid. Don't look away I'm not done. You're going to watch this movie and then you're going to get a couple of paper towel tubes and find someone to beat the shit out of each other with the tubes.

Law abiding citizen (2009)

I don't know I think watching this movie changed my brain chemistry in very special ways. Guy fucking loses it and becomes a problem for his local community by kidnapping and torturing people who killed his family. Cathartic and vile.

Black dog (1998)

:D DO YOU WANNA WATCH AN ACTION MOVIE ABOUT AN 18-WHEELER?

The hunt for red october (1990)

Almost forgot this one. Lithuanian Submariner off the shits, goes rogue, I'm not sure what accent Sean Connery is going for, I get the impression he just showed up to gigs and did whatever he wanted.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

ooh youd never watched mh before? like not the og series either? i also really like the new show!

Never! Think might have heard about the toys once, a few years back? A bit isolated out here heheh, and the internet speed is... well

BUT YEAH THE NEW SHOW! Gen 3? THAT ONE!!!!

okay so far i've only seen what's free on youtube and The Monstering and that's enough to tell me something Very Important about this show. Well. A few Very Important Things

1.) HALLOWEEN SCHOOL THATS SPOOKY YES YES YES

when was a kid (one million years ago) i was Obsessed with the idea of Halloween Town and loved imagining all these stories about my version of it

(accessed via a well, for some reason)

imagined being a pumpkin headed scarecrow (legit my first self insert OC, before I know those terms) and hanging out with MY ghoul friends (werewolf, vampire, skeleton, ghost, the usual)

drew fanart for it and daydreamed about it all year long...

my neighbor, the kid i played most with bc neither of us had anyone else, liked playing animal uprising in barbie town and wasn't so keen on the spooks, so my desire for a funky creepy friend group VESTERED. like worms. or maybe maggots

AND NOw

MONTER HIGH?????

There've been other shows or movies that TRY to do this, but they either go too dark for me, or the spook stuff is so surface level it's like halloween decorations

MONSTER HIGH IS JUST- PERFECT

soft core body horror via Frankie! Oh hey Cleo has bugs crawling under her wrappings! The teens are eating EYES and BRAINS and sloppy joes made from TOES?

COMMITED TO THE SPOOK

The students are ACTUAL spooks! Draculaura can turn into a bat! She's got NO reflection! Frankie keeps falling apart- Literally! Ghost students!

Creative use of the spook! Here's an eyeball to record your class project on!

it's VIBES

the vibes are EVERYWHERE

I LOVE BAD PUNS AND THIS IS FULL OF THEM EVERYWHERE ALL THE TIME

2.) This show feels safe. Comfortable. Cozy.

Meet Frankie. They use they/them pronouns

THAT JUST HAPPENS SO CASUALLY IT JUST HAPPENS SO EASILY AND WE ALL MOVE ON LIKE ITS NORMAL TO SEE THAT IN A SHOW

Clawdeeeeeen and the school...

the students go from AHH A HUMAN!! to sneaking around trying to eves drop on Clawdeen and the headmistress and now they don't look scared they look curious, they're interested in this human talking about her love of monster stories and how she doesn't fit in with humans and just wants to stay here with them- it's sweet. It's so sweet.

Even before she turn out to be part werewolf, the feeling is, the students like her. They'd be happy to have her stay. There's a connection here even WITHOUT being a monster

like Draculaura and Frankie and Duce want to help Clawdeen figure out what kind of monster she might be SO SHE CAN STAY. the framing is, turning out to be a monster would be the EXCUSE for her to be here, with friends. The ones she already has, now

my heart

dont touch me

I NEED A SOFT SHOW LIKE THIS. I NEED, JUST, HEY WE CAN BE KIND ON A GENERAL BASIS. THE WORLD CAN BE LIKE THIS

3.) the... the expectations of what a body should look like.... break them and be joyful

Clawdeen the werewolf girl is worried for a sec that she doesn't have ENOUGH armpit hair

for fun we get to see it growing THROUGH her SHIRT!

also i dont know why but it feels like this is one of the first times i've seen weregirls with leg and arm hair that has actual, noticeable, fur tufts. not just smooth with a fur coloring. this has Texture. these girls are HAIRY

and again it's just another thing, it's normal at monster high

hey i love it

Iris is on the fear squad

IRIS IS ON THE FEAR SQUAD

the monster who is fat and has one giant eyeball is on monster high's version of the cheerleading squad!

LAGOONA HAS ACTUAL NEEDLE SHAP TEETH

ALLLLLLLL. OF. FRANKIE.

metal leg? Clear and obvious scar stiches all over their body? yep! zero self image issues this monster is just out there grooving!

hey this merdude has a tail with no legs he uses a wheelchair no biggie

look

i have EXTREME dysphoria and no money to do anything about it

i want to go to monster high, too

it looks safe

last and most important of all....

4.) WRITING ! HEY! THE WRITING IS SHARP AND THE EDITING IS CRUNCHY

character voices. CHARACTER VOICES.

THEY HAVE THEM

a lowbar, you might think, and yet i've spent good money on media written for adults that DOES NOT HAVE THIS

i've watched maybe, four five eps? and already i can HEAAR the characters in my head! i can feel the TONE of the show! i can imagine my own little adventures for them bc it's easy to feel what they'd say or do!

I LOVE CHARACTER VOICES

you know what i hate? things that arn't set up! things that are forgotten!

eleven minutes and so far not ONCE has something happened that wasn't set up before hand

Oh everyone's out of the camera ghoul yay- wait. I don't see cleo in the pile. did they forget to animate her?

NOPE

She's still in the camera monster's pocket dimension!

SHE REFUSES TO LEAVE UNTIL IT FINALLY TAKES A GOOD PHOTO OF HER FOR THE FEAR BOOK!

as set up by her having trouble even buying coffee bc her id doesn't look like her, as set up by her new photo also getting ruined accidentally by Frankie, as set up by her getting caught by the monster when she came back to demand another photo!

the way the three bell chime "ding, ding, DOOOM" are used when Clawdeen is exchanging thumbs up with the wolf pack only to cut on the DOOOM to her going into the woods for the pack meeting against her instincts

nervous ding nervous ding BIG DOOOOOM OF THIS IS A BAD IDEA

brain candy

that's brain candy for me

i feel like a zombie media student

"gOoOoOd eDiTtInG....!" i moan, shambling towards the next episode with arms out stretched

there's so much of this tbh its always there

ok i have to stop this rant this is getting ridiculous

QUICK OTHER MENTIONS OF AWESOME

---- VOice acting! I'm sensitive to stiff acting and these ppl are haivng FUN i can FEEEEEEL it. Cleo and Spectra stand out for me. And Lagoona especially. i love Lagoona

---- DESIGN AND COLORS aye it's pretty! my eyes are having fun!

---- MUSIC AND SOUND DESIGN they are on point and make everything ten times better

----- WORLD BUILDING i don't need to explore it but it feels like there's a world and a history of monsters out there and that sells the whole school

----- THE FEELS so far Draculaura in the Food Fight ep hits the hardest. Girl giving a presentation against witch craft, while secretly practicing witch craft, to convince herself it's bad... needing confidence to cast spells correctly, only she loses hers... all of the wanting to be a witch, it makes her feel like her, and then- the realization that that MAKES her a witch. She already IS one. She wants to tell her dad but, just, can't. And her friends support her.... oh, that hit good

And also, of course, Frankie the nonbinary monster!

who isn't a split of guy and girl, or a multiple personality deal. They're just. Nonbinary. They don't need a reason or an explanation.

sure you could say, it's cause they're made up of parts from other people, but the show doesn't say that. Frankie calls those parts their "past" selves/lives. this is their life though and they are their own self. silly, sweet, emotional, curious Frankie Stein. who goes by they/them

as someone with zero gender, who can't introduce my self as they/them, that feels so good

this SHOW feels so good

cleo/frankie is really cute, very adorable, but i think im just bitten for the whole show now. i don't care what happens in particular just let me frolic gleefully in the childhood i wish id had :)

[psalm22-6]

This review of the 1935 Les Miserables staring Fredric March and Charles Laughton comes to you hot of the presses of the La Habra Star. La Habra had a population of 2,000 and a couple hundred around this time. Anyways the column in question is Jazzers which seems to have printed jokes and fun facts mostly and really whatever the author wanted. So one week he printed a review of Les Miserables and apparently no one cared so he considered quitting.  12 July 1935:

NEW JOKE: (I get this from an eastern paper so don't blame me.) Two worms were at work in dead earnest. Poor Ernest. *** BRAIN TEASER: (Still following the trail of the little animals). On a post six feet high is a worm which crawls up two feet every day and slips back one foot every night. How many days will it take it to reach the top? *** I SELDOM WRITE a movie review, for reasons too numerous to mention, but I am taking a shot (that's good film language and not slang) at Twentieth Century's production of Les Miserables  — a picture unique in several ways. It is no small job to condense so lengthy a story and carry the main thread through even a long film, but it was done in pretty good fashion, on the whole.   Les Miserables in the film lives up to its name, for most of the folks in it are miserable most of the time. And that's one of the ways in which it is unique as a movie. It is six or seven thousand feet of sorrow, sadness and trouble, without a single foot of what the writers call “comedy relief." There isn't a belly laugh in it — or any other kind. It is practically impossible even to squeeze out a smile. In this the producers have acted with unusual restraint. As a rule they force in some funny stuff because they think the audience will insist on it, no matter how out of place it may be. 

No brains are necessary to understand what the story is about. This of course is not out of the ordinary. The action is simple and direct, as were the actions of people in the days when Vic Hugo's characters were living. The misery of the poor and criminal classes was taken for granted, and instead of reaching for graft and blackmail the police inspectors committed suicide when they failed in their duty. Nowadays we coddle the former and condone the latter, all on the ground that it is up to everybody to get what he can while the getting is good. This of course takes more brains. 

But the scenarists made a long story short, and so must I. Les Miserables is a film among films in that it has two leading men and no heroine. At least it is entirely outside the rule to make a heroine of a character which appears in only part of the story. Hence the females in this story must be ruled out, except to note that so far as they have parts they are well done. But the two leading men are there all the time — and how! It is hard to choose between Frederic March as Jean Valjean and Charles Laughton as the cop who exemplifies the inexorable majesty of the law — as it then was. Both really are actors, and not just movie stars That two could be teamed up in one film without getting in each other’s way is a real achievement. 

In the matter of general setting not many stories have been better filmed than Les Miserables. I never saw a convict galley nor a French home, but in this picture they appear as they do in my imagination. The scenes in the sewers of Paris are so realistic you can smell them

It is not likely that many people care for the type of movie which Les Miserables makes but those who have read  — and reread —  this immortal story by Victor Hugo will not want to miss it. It certainly is not entertainment in the usual sense. There isn't a fan dance nor a Mammy song in it but for high class acting and stark realism It is hard to beat.

Yet it would be a great thing if everybody could see this picture and carry home from it the one important truth — Life is to give, not to take. There is just one serious criticism I have of this film — and it goes for a good many others. I can’t see the sense in the “incidental music,” the off-stage strains which are supposed to heighten the dramatic intensity and hop up the feelings of the audience. If little Nell is sobbing her way down a country road through a snow storm it doesn't seem fitting to me that the Biltmore orchestra should be heard playing in the near distance, and when Jean Valjean sloshed his way through the muck of the sewers I am practically certain the strains of the cathedral organ were not within hearing. It's about as sensible as salting a pretzel.

Amazing. Most people love salted pretzels. I have never heard that complaint of a movie before but it’s fascinating.  19 July 1935

NEVER HEARD A YIP about my movie review of Les Miserables last week. It was a new stunt for this col'm and I listened carefuly for any reverberating echoes from it. Must be everybody would rather have the dope from Liberty. RESPONSES to anything appearing here are not frequent unless I pan something or make a crack that sounds a little profane. Then I get jumped on. Whenever I say something nice, no comeback. Maybe that's the reason I distribute more kicks than kisses.

I understand the frustration of creating content and getting zero response 26 July 1935

LA HABRA STAR WILL SUSPEND PUBLICATION

This Week’s Issue Will Be Last for Local Paper Suppose the above headline was at the top of a news column instead of where it is? Suppose it were actually true, instead of being a "Jazzer?" Would it make any difference to you or to the community? I confess that to me the question is sometimes an interesting subject for thought. Have you ever given it any consideration? Probably not. The tendency is to take a newspaper for granted. The same as a great many other things. We accept the fact that they are here as being proof that they will always be here. 

I am not going into the subject any further. I am not going to argue the case. I just wonder sometimes how many really care, but I mention the matter in this way at this time in the hope that it may stir up a little thought and consideration. That's all. 

ALONG THIS LINE I would like to report the interest with which I received a few reactions to remarks made last week about that “movie review” of Les Miserables, I heard nothing about it until I said I had heard nothing. Then I heard from several. Sure, I know — we often think about handing out a bouquet but just forget to do it. l NO REACTIONS either from the brain teaser offered the same week about the worm which started crawling up a post six feet high, going up two feet every day and slipping hack one foot every night. The answer is it will take him five days to reach the top.

[daevilhorns-1]

anyways. since we really are approaching four years with this mfer. let me be a little vulnerable for a second. under the cut for long drawn out emo bullshit.

pov: it's january 2019 and the first trailer for lords of chaos just dropped. me , amazed we were finally getting a mayhem movie , and having very little self control , decided to make levi on a complete whim while i was in the shower. i suddenly materialized into my final form. and i literally haven't been able to be stopped since.

levi is my pride and joy fr. he's my comfort muse. i'll never not be in the mindset to write him because he lives in the back of my brain and is constantly crawling around in my ears like a little worm. maybe that's because i specifically created him to appeal to no one but myself. i created him to express my own interests and likes and dislikes , as a muse i can entirely relate to. i've given him so many parts of myself that it's actually ridiculous lmao. ( so if i ever seem a little too protective over my own creation . . . . . )

honestly i didn't ever really expect him to pick up much traction in the rpc. there's nothing entirely "special" about him. he's not supernatural. he doesn't have a deep or traumatic lore. none of the "fun" stuff when it comes to creating a muse. he's just some dude that you'd find outside of a 7/11 at three in the morning waiting for someone to comment on his band tee so he can talk about king diamond for thirty minutes straight. but he quickly became my most successful muse out of the hundred i have / had and someone y'all liked and i'll forever be grateful for that ?? or idk maybe y'all just think he's hot but that's another conversation lol. ( pls don't fc chase. it's fucking weird and insanely belittling to the writer. )

he's gone through a few changes over the years ( shoutout to everyone who's been here since rory was his main fc ) but i like to think he's relatively the same muse i started with. maybe a little less cringey but. he hails satan for the funsies so. cringe has always been a part of his dna. maybe having so few changes made over four years is kind of commendable ?? just means i had a good idea from the start hehe. but i'd love to know from those who have been along for the ride for a while now , how much y'all think he's changed. that'd be interesting.

in conclusion ! i've given my heart to this muse. he's my number one funky little guy. blood sweat and tears have been poured. i now have an entire universe and other muses built around him. i've also been through a lot of bullshit with him that could have easily drove me away ( and almost did. ) i have to remind myself constantly that i did do something original here , and that it's okay for me to pat myself on the back for that sometimes without the fear of coming off a certain way. there wasn't really much of a music based rpc back in 2019. let alone a metal music based rpc. and i've watched it grow so much since then. i think i'm allowed to say there'll never be another levi , and i don't know if i'd still be here if it weren't for you guys. <3 happy almost four year anniversary my favorite little gremlin.

[puckinghell]

today i heard someone say "i don't wanna date, i just want my best friend to fall in love with me" and i thought it would make a really good fic!!! maybe you could write it with petey, for his birthday?

That’s a really cute idea. Just a little blurb but hopefully you like it!!

--

You love the boys, you really do, but…

“Shut up, Brock,” you hiss, slamming your beer glass down on the table with a little too much force. Some of the contents sloshes over the edge, but you know Brock is about to buy you a new one: after everything that he’s done tonight, it’s the least he can do.

“Why?” Brock asks, puppy eyes in full effect. “I’m just asking a question!”

What Brock is doing, actually, is opening a can of worms you really don’t want to get opened. You’re good at keeping your feelings close to your chest, have been good at that for ages.

You kinda had no choice. Falling in love with your best friend is dangerous stuff, especially when he’s really not interested in that at all, and you can’t be caught slipping up.

So you don’t go there, normally. But it’s obvious, really, to anyone with eyes. Brock likes to tease you that the sun shines out of your eyes whenever you look at Elias, and Troy simply raises his eyebrows in judgmental manner whenever you stare at Elias a little too long.

And unfortunately, your friends don’t have enough of a moral compass to refrain from teasing you about it.

“You’re not just asking a question,” you quote Brock sarcastically. “You’re being annoying.”

It’s always fun to go out with the boys, so whenever Elias asks you to tag along on their bar crawls, you always say yes. Somehow the topic got turned to your dating life, however, and the only reason you haven’t stabbed Brock to death with the umbrella that came in Jake’s cocktail is that Elias as last seen being beat into the ground at pool by Jacob, so he’s not here to hear about your pathetic love life – or lack thereof.

“I just think,” Brock starts, voice betraying the beginning of a monologue, “that if you’re not gonna do anything about your feelings for Petey, you have to try and get over him. And getting over someone works best when you get under someone else.” He points towards the general area of the bar. “There’s guys there! Just pick one.”

Jake snorts. “It’s not a supermarket, Boes. She can’t just pick up random guys and hope one’s good enough.”

“Exactly,” you say, thankful to have at least one person on your side. The happiness lasts for about a second, because then Jake clearly decides to betray you.

“But I don’t think it’s a bad idea to go on some dates.”

“Really, Tuna, you too?” you frown, putting as much betrayal as you can into your voice. He has the decency to at least look a little sheepish.

“Just a few dates. You don’t know what could happen.”

“I don’t wanna go on dates!” Frustration is ringing clear in your voice. “That might be fun for you, being professional athletes, rich, hot, and men, but going on dates for me means telling my friends exactly where I’m gonna be at whatever time during the night because I’m worried about getting murdered. It means having nothing to talk about and sitting through 3 hours of silence, or listening to men brag about their accomplishments while not even bothering to learn my name. Going on dates isn’t fun.”

You stubbornly cross your arms. Brock and Jake are staring at you with wide eyes, as if you’ve said something crazy; you groan.

“I don’t want to go on dates with random people, I want my best friend to fall in love with me!”

There’s a sharp intake of breath behind you. Normally you probably wouldn’t even notice it, but this one is a little too familiar to be ignored. Within a split second, you realize why Jake and Brock were staring.

Elias is standing behind you, looking at you with confused eyes. His hands are limply by his side.

Oh no.

“Oh no,” Brock says.

“Elias,” you start, but the sentence dies on your lips. What could you say? I didn’t mean it would be a lie, I can explain would lead into something you really don’t want to do.

For a second, Elias seems to be at a loss for words, which is not something that happens to your best friend a lot.

“I’m your best friend,” he says finally, and it’s like the words are sinking into his brain at the exact moment he speaks them. His eyes widen, realization settles into his features, and suddenly you can’t do this.

You can’t watch the horror take over his face, you can’t hear the pity in his voice as he tries to let you down gently. You can’t take Brock and Jake’s sorrowful look of guilt.

So you book it: you throw yourself out of the booth before anyone can say anything and all but run towards the exit of the bar, bumping into Marky on the way out.

“Y/N?” he calls after you, clearly worried, but you don’t stop.

Tears are starting to make their way to your eyes and you don’t want anyone to see that. Instead, you push the door open. Cold winter air hits you in the face and you feel it in your lungs as you inhale.

For a second, it calms you down enough that you have the mind to grab your phone and open the Uber app.

You should’ve expected Elias to follow you, but for some reason it still comes as a surprise when you hear his footsteps behind you.

It’s a little weird, maybe, that you would recognize his footsteps, that you would know it’s him before you’ve seen or heard him. But he’s so familiar that your body reacts to him even without your knowledge, muscles relaxing when he silently stands next to you.

Normally, you would lean against him, in a situation like this. This time you stare stoically ahead.

There’s chatter coming from inside the bar, but it’s quiet outside. It’s cold, but the night is clear. It’s a lovely set of juxtapositions, you suppose, like the way your heart is breaking at the hands of your favorite person; your best friend, who has done nothing wrong.

Suddenly you feel something warm, featherlight against your fingers. Elias’ hands are rough with callouses but they are gentle, and when he carefully and oh so slowly threads his fingers through yours, you don’t stop him. You don’t pull away. You should, probably, but God, you don’t want to.

If everything is going to change, you can allow yourself this memory, of getting so close to what you wanted.

“I don’t like going on dates either,” Elias says out of nowhere. His voice is soft but it cuts through the quiet night anyway.

It’s not at all what you expected him to say, and it startles a laugh out of you. When you look up, there’s a content tug to his lips, like he’s pleased to hear your laughter.

“But I like going on dates with you.”

Those words are even more unexpected and the laughter dies on your lips. Confusion takes over. “Elias, we’ve never been on a date.”

Elias hums. He takes a while to respond. “Haven’t we, though?” he asks, finally. “We’ve been to lots of restaurants, cinemas. Breakfasts, lunches, dinners. Movie nights at home. We’ve gone skating, hiking, golfing.” He grins. “Taken romantic strolls through the park.”

You snort. “Taking Brock’s dogs for a walk isn’t a romantic stroll.”

Elias’ response is quick. “But it could be.”

You don’t have a reply for that. Your heart is beating in your chest a million miles an hour; you feel like you can’t breathe, because it feels like Elias is saying something you couldn’t ever imagine hearing him say.

“Y/N.” Elias’ voice is soft, but urgent, so you focus back on him. “You’re my best friend.”

“I know.” And you do: you wouldn’t ever doubt that, you know what you mean to him.

“That’s why it’s scary. Because I don’t want to lose you if it goes wrong. But that’s also why it’s not scary at all, right? Because we’ve been doing this for a long time, we just didn’t put a name to it.” He shrugs, easily, like his words aren’t turning your whole world upside down. “But I already know I’m my happiest when I’m with you, and I know I always want to spend all of my time with you.”

Your head snaps up. When your eyes catch his, there’s nothing there but truth and honesty. Hope lights up inside your heart like a beacon of light.

“You said… You said you want your best friend to fall in love with you.” Elias smiles, small and private, but happy. “But I already did that a long time ago.”

Like a tidal wave of happiness, a smile spreads across your face. You’re about to step in, to finally kiss Elias like you’ve been wanting all that time, when a car pulls up.

“You already ordered an Uber for us?” Elias says, tone teasing and light. “Someone is eager.”

“I didn’t say you were invited,” you snap, but Elias simply laughs because in reality you both know that he’s invited.

You think for the past few years, there was never a place you went that Elias wasn’t invited to.

“I suppose I could just go,” Elias trails, and you latch onto his hands tightly, keeping them firmly in your own.

He’s not going anywhere, not if it’s up to you. And when he squeezes your hand in the back of the Uber, you’re pretty sure he’s not going anywhere if it’s up to him, either.

[itcantbe]

Zelink Week 2021: Day 4

Hello and welcome to day 4 of @zelinkweek2021 (I remembered to tag it this time!). Today's prompt is "Trust: Broken/Forged." I tried to address both aspects in this chapter of "Under the Boardwalk." Just a reminder this story is rated M and will shift to E with the last chapter (but the E bit can be skipped if you want). This chapter takes place the night of the first chapter, if you're getting confused with the timeline. Yesterday's chapter took place sometime in the future. Enjoy!

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | Read chapter 3 on ao3

Under the Boardwalk: We'll be Fallin' in Love

Ice cream. Coffee. A movie.

“What’s in here?”

Dinner. Ice skating. Mini golf.

Link can’t help thinking of better date ideas than sneaking around the amusement park he works at after hours. He had hoped they might walk around a bit, Zelda would get her fill of the empty park and they could leave and go do something else. Though he holds out some hope that she might get a little scared, and maybe clutch his arm to her chest, crushing it between her breasts as she clings to him. He’s distracted by the idea for a moment, until he hears the rattle of a doorknob.

“Don’t — ! That’s an electrical room, it supplies power to some of the lights. It’s dangerous.”

“Then why isn’t the door locked?”

Link takes Zelda’s arm, hoping he can pull her away from the door plastered in signs that say WARNING! and DANGER! with pictures of little sad people surrounded by lightning bolts. He attempts a distraction.

“Why don’t we go look at The Molduga? We can sneak into the part in the middle where it’s like a little forest.”

He hears a little click before Zelda turns to him, flashing a brilliant smile that makes his insides go watery.

“Ooh yes! Let’s go!”

And then she does take his hand, and he feels a thrill, glad she can’t see the goofy grin that crosses his face as he turns to lead her into the park.

******

Link knew where there was an opening in part of the fence that surrounds The Molduga, the giant wooden roller coaster that’s the main attraction of Hyrule Castle Amusement Park. The Molduga has been the highlight of the park for decades, and over the years a mini-forest grew inside each of the loops and curves the ride takes as it sprawls around the north side of the park. Of course, they don’t want people going in there when the ride is open, so they put up a fence that surrounds the ride on all sides.

But the fence is nearly as old as the ride, and hasn’t been well maintained in all of its years of existence. Much like everything else at the park, regular maintenance was allowed to slide in the name of maximizing profits. The fence has developed several gaps and holes over time, and the wooded areas of the interior are a favorite place for park employees to hide out while on break, to have a smoke or a nip or just enjoy nature for a minute before you have to submerge yourself in the tourist hordes again. Link knows of a gap in the fence hidden in the backside of the ride, where the track runs by the main fence between the park and the parking lot.

Maybe she’ll get bored and we can leave, Link thinks as he leads Zelda there. Surely by now she has been satisfied with the relative spookiness of the park after closing and is willing to head off and do something that’s actually fun. He can barely see her in the darkness of this part of the park, the black ball cap she put on covering her golden hair, her dark shirt and pants hiding the rest of her. He had to admit he’d been hoping she would wear some night-time version of what she wore each time he saw her at the park, the little dresses that left her shoulders bare and showed off a lot of thigh. The dresses that often came to mind when he had some time to himself at night before bed.

He had been surprised when she arrived to meet him that night.

“You look … uh, you look nice,” he said, rather stupidly. She always made him kind of stupid.

Zelda saw right through him, smirking as he scrambled to seem gentlemanly despite his obvious disappointment.

“Well I don’t think strappy platform sandals would have been very practical for sneaking around, do you?”

No, but they did nice things for her legs and he liked the pretty pink nail polish she wore on her toes.

“I … uh … I guess not.”

He wasn’t an eloquent guy on the best day but this was getting pathetic. He was nervous, and she made him feel so flustered.

“Besides, this way I can blend into the shadows so we don’t get caught!”

She brought out a black ball cap with a flourish and put it on her head in one smooth motion before turning to him and winking.

“So let’s go!”

Link’s brain shut down when she winked at him, nothing but white noise for a moment, only coming back online once he saw her head off into the dark, and he scrambled to catch up with her.

Despite him being the supposed tour leader, it was Zelda who led him about the park, asking questions and taking off with “Ooh, what’s over there?!” so often that he felt like he was constantly just trying to keep up. He should be used to the feeling by now, he thinks. He’s always attempting to keep up, and never quite making it.

But this time he led her, pulling the fence open so that she could go in.

“Are there a lot of gaps in the fence like this?”

“Um … yeah. I only know about this one but there’s gaps all over. I don’t think they do a lot of inspections.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I guess.”

“Hmm.”

He followed her through, then took the lead again, hoping he remembered where the little clearing was that had the least amount of trash in it and had a fallen log they could sit on. It was a nice area, a little further in than most employees were willing to go, and so it was relatively clean and untouched. Maybe they could sit for a while. Maybe she would let him kiss her. Maybe she would kiss him. Maybe they could do a lot of kissing. Maybe she would push him down into the grass and let him run his hands up the inside of her shirt … Lost in his daydream, it was a minute before he realized she wasn’t behind him, and turned to see her jogging up to him.

“I stopped to tie my shoe,” she said by way of explanation.

“Oh,” Link said, confused. Why hadn’t she said anything? He would have waited for her.

“Just a bit more,” he told her.

He took a right where the tracks crossed each other, soaring a hundred feet over their heads, and followed the wooden framework that criss-crossed in a huge lattice to support the ride in the air around … and there they were. He stepped over a piece of the wooden framework that had fallen; there were a few of those around, pieces dropped off the antique ride frequently. Link realized what he’d thought was a log was actually one of the giant cross beams from the ride that had fallen who knows when and had grown soft and green with moss.

“Is this part of the ride?” Zelda asked as she sat next to him.

“Yeah, this ride is pretty old and parts fall off a lot.”

“That doesn’t seem safe!”

“Well, I’m sure they replace them.”

“When?”

How was he supposed to know?

“I dunno. I’m just. Sure they do.”

“Do they ever shut the ride down for any reason? Like for safety? Or if someone gets hurt?”

Link laughed.

“No, they never shut down the Molduga. It makes them too much money.”

She hummed thoughtfully at that.

It was a lovely night, the heat of the day having dissipated, a cool breeze soughing through the trees. Without the crowds of people, the noise of the cars and the roar of the rides, it was peaceful, the noise of the city distant and muted. It was, dare Link think it, almost romantic.

“Oh!” he heard Zelda exclaim next to him. “You can see all the stars!”

Link looked up. She was right, the sky twinkled with a number of stars that couldn’t be seen normally with the light pollution of the park and the city. He leaned in a bit closer to her. He could smell her perfume, the one she wore every time he saw her, the one that had rooted itself in his brain, that he thought he could smell every time he thought of her. Which was a lot. The scent pulled his attention away from the sparkling wash of the stars and back to Zelda, and he resisted the impulse to bury his nose into her neck and breathe her in.

“Zelda, can I k—“

“Do they ever shut down any of the other rides for repairs?”

They spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Ah, forget it,” he mumbled, the moment gone. “Um, I don’t think so … Can’t we … can’t we talk about something else? Why do you even want to know?”

He could see her eyes widen in the dark as she looked at him.

“Oh … I was just curious!”

He’s struck with the realization that they rarely talk about anything else. Even before, when she would come and talk to him at his booth. Questions about the security at the park. About the rides. About the money. About Mr. Ganondorf, like Link would know anything about that. An icy tendril of dread began to worm its way through his middle, wrapping around his stomach and snaking its way up to his heart.

He stared at his hands, not really seeing them, but unable to look at her, either.

“You’ve been asking me a lot of weird questions. And wanting to look at a lot of weird stuff.”

Link began to feel very, very foolish. Foolish for ever thinking someone like Zelda would actually be interested in him. He should have known.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“What is this really about?”

Because it's not about me, is it, he thought.

He heard Zelda sigh.

“Link … I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t help the groan of dismay that crawled out of his throat at her words, pushing his hands into his hair as he dropped his head onto his knees. He laced his fingers over the back of his head as if shielding himself from more disappointment.

It had been such a shitty year. After struggling through a few semesters of college, anxiety had finally gotten the better of him, and he dropped out when his grades slipped and he was in danger of failing. He had taken the amusement park job because it was easy, and he thought it might be fun, and it would keep his dad off his back. But it turned out standing in a game booth all day was really boring, yet also exhausting, leaving him with just enough energy to get on the bus home and collapse in his bed. Of course once he dropped out his student loans had come due, and all of his income went right into the payments. He had no degree, no goal in life, no energy, and no money. And no Zelda.

His voice was hollow and muffled as he spoke into his knees.

“Do you even have a sister?”

Her silence told him all he needed to know. Zelda had told him that her family had a season pass to the park and she was chaperoning her sister while she ran around the park, which is why she was there so much.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m an only child.”

Link sat up, covering his face with his hands as if he could hide from the truth. Zelda had been the bright spot of the summer, appearing at his booth one day like some gift from the goddess. She was so beautiful, and he couldn’t believe it when she came up to talk with him one morning, not long after he started working at the park. He had mumbled and stuttered, and yet, a couple of days later, she’d come back and talked with him some more. And then a few days later, again. Soon he was jumping at every blonde head of hair he saw, scenting the breeze like a dog seeking her perfume. It made coming into work bearable, almost exciting, the hope he might see her enough to get him through the day.

She had played him. She’d used her short dresses and big green eyes and played him for the horny idiot he was. Link felt like his heart was going to crack in half.

“Why?”

He jerked his hands away from his face and looked over to her. Zelda sat on the log next to him, shredding a dead leaf in her fingers. She continued to stare at her hands as she spoke, as if she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

“I’m a reporter with the Hyrule Star Fragment. I think something bad is going on in the park. I needed some way to get access to the inner workings of the park so I could gather evidence.��

“And I was that access.”

Link gave a bitter laugh.

“I should have known,” he said, as much to himself as to her. “I should have known someone like you wouldn’t really want someone like me. Well, I hope you got all the information you needed. I hope it was worth it.”

Link stood up to leave. He didn’t need to sit here and continue to be humiliated.

“Come on, I’ll show you back to your car.”

“Link, wait! Please, let me explain.”

He stopped, arms wrapped around his middle like he could hold all of his heartache inside of him. He turned around to look back at her, still seated on the log, face just a light blur in the deep shadows of the trees.

“Mr. Ganondorf is not a good person. This park is dangerous, and people are getting hurt.”

“So? What does that have to do with me?”

Zelda huffed in exasperation, then stood and came over to him. She stood close to him, so close he could feel the heat of her body. It seemed so intimate, like they were the only ones in the whole world, and he felt the stupid animal part of him react to it. He squashed it down and took a step back.

“People’s lives are ruined because they get hurt here and Ganondorf just covers it up. They are injured and he makes it out to be their fault and then they lose their jobs and their homes because of their medical expenses. That he should have paid for! The rides are dangerous and are in disrepair and it won’t be long before someone is killed!”

Link really didn’t want to listen. He didn’t want her to make him care. But the park employees talked. He’d heard some stories, stories about people getting injured, employees disappearing. He’d chalked it up to gossip, but maybe there was truth to it. Maybe it wouldn’t be long until he was next.

“I’m trying to gather evidence so I can write an exposé for the paper. Help people to learn the truth about this park and what happens here. But I can’t do it alone. I’m sorry I misled you—”

“Lied to me.”

Zelda sighed.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t think … I didn’t think you’d want to help me. So I did what I thought would work. I didn’t think I’d …”

She dropped off there, leaving whatever she thought he’d do unsaid.

“You didn't think you'd what? You used me. How far would you have gone to keep me on a leash, telling you whatever you wanted? Would you have kissed me? Would you have fucked me? And then what, just dropped me once you got what you wanted?”

Link’s hurt and anger had boiled up so hot in him it made him nasty. He never talked like this to anyone, but it was as if all of his pent up rage at failing out of college, having to move back home, having his dad on his case at all times, had come pouring out. He hated himself more in this moment than he had all year. And he already hated himself quite a bit. But the words had been said and there was no taking them back now.

“No! I’d never!”

Link suddenly felt very weary, the rage flooding out of him almost as soon as it had filled him up.

“Then what?!”

Link had wanted to shout at her, but instead, his question came out as a quiet plea. His anger was quickly replaced with desperation. He just wanted to know how he fit into her grand scheme before they left the park and he never saw her again.

Zelda was silent for a moment, as if she battled over what to say to him. Or maybe she was just cooking up more lies to string him along some more.

“I didn’t think I’d actually like you,” she said, sounding defeated. “I thought I’d … I thought I’d just flirt with you, and ask you some questions, and maybe you’d show me around the park like you did. And once I knew where to go to get the answers I needed, I could disappear from your life and do what I needed to do.”

Link scoffed. He didn’t think his self loathing could get any worse but the way his heart lifted when she said she liked him proved him wrong. He just wanted so badly to have one right thing in his life.

“I hated lying to you, but by this time I didn’t think I could tell you the truth. I had planned to do as much as I could tonight and then …”

“And then drop me after that, right when I thought I had a chance.”

The fact that she wouldn’t meet his eyes confirmed that theory.

“Let’s just go,” he sighed, and started to walk away.

“Link, please!” she cried, and grabbed his hand. In his mind he yanked his hand out of her grasp and stalked away, indignant. In reality, he stopped, once again relishing the feeling of her hand in his.

“I promise, no more lies,” Zelda said, quietly and urgently. “But I do need your help. I need employee access into the park. Ganondorf cannot be allowed to continue to ruin people’s lives just to make himself richer. And I’ll try to make it up to you.”

He huffed a disbelieving laugh.

“How?”

“Let me at least buy you dinner, and I’ll answer any of your questions. And if you want to part ways after that, then fine. And if not … maybe we can do this together.”

He looked at her, her hopeful face bathed in the light of the newly risen moon. Despite the lies, despite all of the deception, he believed her. He still felt like he should say no, remain on his high horse and leave her behind, drop her just as she had planned to drop him, but as usual, he was weak to anything she asked from him. It was just one night, Link reminded himself. He wouldn’t have to see her again if he didn’t want to.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “But I pick the restaurant.”

Zelda exhaled in relief.

“Oh thank you, Link! I promise you won’t regret it!”

Before he knew what was happening, she’d leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before yanking on his arm and dragging him out of the trees, through the gap in the fence, and out of the park, all without being spotted by security, just as he’d said.

Link thought he probably would regret it. But in the end, he decided he didn’t care.

[drzenlin]

*Crawls out of the trashcans, a little wild eyed* 

Okay, okay, listen. Just listen. 

*Holds out new au idea*

I did it again. 

Bare with me, here. Okay? This is kind of the thing that I do. I make ideas. Do I complete them? No. Do I actually write on them and make scenes and junk? Not always. Okay, but listen. Hear me out. 

My latest obsession has been My Hero Academia, okay? I like it. It’s fun. We’re about to get the fifth season. It’s great. (I mentioned how many ideas I already had in the previous ramble post. We’re on twenty something. It’s getting ridiculous.) I’ve started diving into the fandom. It’s great. I like the fandom. Reading fanfictions and looking at fanart. Awesome. A+ good content. 

The thing is..... And bare with me here. The thing is I see a lot of fantasy aus. There’s quite a bit. (We can thank that wonderful end credits in, what? Season four was it? I can’t be bothered to look it up. The canon fantasy au.) But I don’t see the delve into a lot of monster ideas. I don’t see a lot werewolves or vampires or anything of that sort. I’ve seen a couple of “I see dead people” sort of aus. Particularly when it comes to playing in the putty that is Midoryia Izuku’s quirk and lack thereof. (Don’t get me wrong. I like playing in that same putty. It’s so fun to change it and make it fun and interesting with extra heapings of angst and pain and whump-ege.) Though that has to do with more quirk stuff than anything else. I’ve seen a few monster ideas but not a lot. And the monster lover in me just kind of.... wilts. Sadness.

I love monsters. A lot. It’s not a new behavior of mine. Some of you who follow me might have.... guessed that with some of the things that I reblog. (I’m not brave enough to admit it quite yet. Give me a few more ramble posts and we’ll see.) But, coming from The Witcher fandom, I’m seeing a vast lacking in the way of monster content in the MHA fandom. And that sucks. A lot. 

(Don’t make me be the one that fills that tag. Please. I’m not sure I can commit to that yet!!! I’m not brave enough!!!) 

So, in conclusion, I wanna see more monster stuff in the MHA fandom. Like, werewolves and fae (the dark kind, folks. I love those kinds) and dragons (not just from the fantasy au. We can have more dragons, I assure you. We can do that. It’s okay.) and vampires (I’ve seen a few. It brings me hope) and sea monsters (mermaids and sea monsters anyone? Oooo, sea monster mermaids!!!) and all sorts of other scary things that go bump in the night.

And it’s okay. You have my permission (for what it’s worth). You don’t have to make a whole new au idea. It doesn’t have to be a full au. Mix it in with canon. (I like doing this best. It gives you the flavor of canon but adds that spicy goodness. Werewolves, right alongside quirks, anyone? Just think about little, baby Izuku shifting in front of Katsuki for the first time. Just think about it. I’ll give you a moment with that thought..... it’s good, isn’t it? So good.) 

All of this has a point. I got side tracked by werewolves. (Not new. I love me a good werewolf. Always have.) But, the new au idea is kind of..... needs a lot of explanation. There’s a race I made and I wanted to play around with that in my newest fandom obsession. (Of course I did. I’m only human. Ish.) But I can say I like adding dark, fae type monster-y content into canon. Taking a world and melding it into something a little more wild and fantastical and playing with how people go missing or come out of the woods a changed person. I like playing with that sort of world that has magic, thinly veiled under the surface. Where if we don’t speak about it, it might not look this way. Everything is fine, when the sun is up and people are all around you but as the sun begins to set, people go indoors, other things slink around the corners of buildings, hiding away in alleyways. Do they want to consume you? Do they wish to play a malicious game? Are they just curious little critters that are not seen but once in a blue moon? It’s like urban fantasy and dark academia a little bit. Like..... *Snaps fingers* I know I have an example, somewhere rattling around in my brain. Like, traditional fairy tales, where Little Red Riding Hood gets eaten by the wolf but then turns around and kills him. Like ghost stories and haunting and, hmmmm. I don’t know if I’m getting my idea across here. What was that movie with Vin Diesel in it? The Last Witch Hunter? The Witch Hunter? Where he was a Viking cursed by the head witch to live forever and he had to fight her in modern times? That one.(I feel as though that one wasn’t talked about a whole lot. I enjoyed it, though I would have liked it better if there was more good witches and more content, honestly. Was it a book? Can anyone tell me? I think I’d like to read it if there was.) But like that, mixed up with traditional Grimm’s fairy tales and like..... whimsy. So, The Book of Cells and the other one they did. Song of the Sea? (I swear I actually know things. I’m not this much of a ditz. These are late night ramblings.) I like this type of world, universe, type thing. And I enjoy just, taking it and laying a fandom over top of it. So, this just kind of..... combines with my latest fandom. MHA. *Jazz hands* 

I swear there’s more specifics to this than just that. But I’ve rambled long enough, honestly. I’m not even sure how many people are going to actually read this keyboard smash of a ramble. (My sisters are required. They wanted me to post more content. This is all on you two.) I might actually go in depth about the actual au idea and about that race that I invented. (If.... we could call it that? It’s a complicated can of worms to open, honestly. That and I need to figure how to make read mores. This is a long post.) 

Anyway, the trash goblin has spoken.

*Crawls back into the trashcans, peaks over the lip. Hisses.* 

[kingofthewilderwest]

How do u feel about Mabel

I have an unending sense of adoration for what Mabel contributes to Gravity Falls. Technically, Mabel isn’t a favorite of mine – I don’t think of her or relate to her as much as others like Stan, Ford, Dipper, or Fiddleford. However, my appreciation for her is endless.

Gravity Falls couldn’t exist without Mabel. The story’s heart would be crippled. Mabel’s energy and charm provides a unique personality to the show through her unique personality. The show wouldn’t have the same vibe without her ridiculousness! Plus, GF is a story of familial love. And Mabel, as half of the younger Pines twins duo, is essential to giving us the feels of what it means to be in a loving but emotionally complicated family. They couldn’t have picked a better personality to interact with Dipper and Stan for the narrative’s central trio. The combination of Mabel’s vivacity, Stan’s gruffness, and Dipper’s paranoia… is what sells us on this cast. (With Bill, Soos, Wendy, Ford, Pacifica, Gideon, etc. making great additions.)

That’s already enough to celebrate Mabel, but I can’t say this enough: Mabel is the fulfillment of my greatest wish for women characters:

Let women be weird.

The Limited Scope of Female Personalities in Media

All genders get roped into stereotypical personalities in media, but I feel like women especially get reduced. I struggle relating to and loving fictional women… because they feel like the same restrictive subset of personalities I’ve seen reiterated again and again and again and again and again. 

There’s the rude, prissy, popular rich girl. 

There’s that easygoing cool tomboy. 

There’s the hot, edgy, serious, sexy, COOL, highly skilled badass action woman who is the most hardcore of the main cast, hides a sense of internal empathy and compassion, but warms up from her coldness when she meets the main character lead… and then probably goes and kisses him once he, despite being a rookie, magically manages to best her years of hard training.

*ka-sigh*

Even when a fictional woman doesn’t hit something that cringeworthily stereotypical, she still feels… bland. Fictional characters can be enjoyable exaggerations of personality traits – we have the opportunity to create as weird, ridiculous, or diverse of individuals as we possibly can. And yet usually women aren’t written to be as wild or diverse in their personalities as men. The ladies will probably look standardly pretty, act standardly reasonable, act standardly feminine, and make standard choices. Women characters in a cast often feel the least distinct to me. I’m probably not going to find quirks in my ladies or something that sets them apart from the crowd. Let’s be real: media depicts women according to societal expectation. Women in media are reduced to a washed-out, generic fantasy that doesn’t relate anything to how women feel, nor does it try hard to relate to what women feel.

The writing doesn’t understand women. And I can feel it.

When a bland, stale action woman goes on screen in her hot sexy tight pants, is her presentation supposed to be female empowerment (she’s fighting [gasp!])? Or is it another quick, uninspired shortcut without thinking through what her humanity is? “She fights, she’s a ‘good’ female role model, that’s good enough.” Still caters to the male gaze, still caters to male fantasy for what an attractive woman is like, still doesn’t think through her psychology, still presents media’s “desire” for what women “should” be like.

We drastically need to improve how women are written.

You know what my women friends are like? Women are loud and unashamed belchers. Women crack terrible puns about the French Revolution while everyone boos. Women dress up their stuffed animal cats in goggles and a lab coat. Women geek out over how cute worms are. Women want to kill the opposing team in sports competitions. Women eat food off the floor. Women spend sleepovers watching chick flicks and musicals. Women shriek screamo songs at the top of their lungs, getting maybe a third of the lyrics right, racing through the night in their car twenty miles over the speed limit. Women spend thirty five minutes trying to get the perfect selfie because their hair finally fucking cooperated. Women repeatedly text their friends photos of them flipping the bird making derp faces. Women play beer pong until they’re drunk. Women do unnecessarily complicated mathematics calculations to prove their point in fandom. Women stay up all night screaming murder at first person shooter video games. Women play shitty pop song covers on their tubas. Women spend an hour and a half dyeing their hair pink in the sink (and dye the entire bathroom pink in the process). Women debate the finer points of Immanuel Kant with one another. Women demand their friends dish the details when they hear someone has a new significant other. Women binge watch anime eating frozen dinners heated from the microwave while sobbing out their mascara. Women get crushes on Simba or Kovu from The Lion King. Women work out at gyms because they want to get RIPPED. Women. Are. Diverse. And. Delightfully. QUIRKY.

I know I ranted a long time about it, but the point is to show the difference between what women are (personable and peculiar)… versus the stale bread, watered-down crap we get in the movies.

So this. This is why I will never quit raving about Mabel.

Mabel finally lets us see an ACTUAL GIRL as ACTUAL GIRLS act: she’s delightfully, realistically, over-exaggeratedly, charmingly, unforgettably WEIRD.

Instead of trying to write a “girl” first and getting tied up in the tropes and gender biases, Gravity Falls writes a character who happens to be a girl with some girl traits.

What Makes Mabel Different

Instead of writing some standard bland stereotyping “oh this feels vaguely feminine and attractive” excuse-for-a-cardboard-cutout-of-a-woman… Mabel is given real love, real personality, real demonstration of what women are. After all these years of me suffering in theatres thinking, “Oh look, it’s the same uninspired sexy badass action woman stereotype,” I can finally find a character who’s not what media pretends women should be like. I see a character who the writers actually thought about her personality for!

Gravity Falls allows a woman character to do things I almost never see of women characters.

For starters: Mabel’s gross. She finds leftover tacos in the backseat of the car and decides it’s a perfect snack. She sticks her head into a dusty barrel and laughs when caterpillars crawl over her face. She makes fart sounds and laughs at those fart sounds. She lets a statue pick her nose. She shoves food into her mouth voraciously. She’s animated with wild, ridiculous, non-flattering facial expressions. Gravity Falls allows Mabel to be gross.

This is already amazing to me. Cartoons are a little better than live action movies, where the latter can’t let a woman look imperfect when she’s crying or fighting villains. But cartoons often have limitations for how women are shown, too. It’s refreshing to see a girl who is gross.

And I don’t know about you, but I’d be hard-pressed to name even three other contemporary Western women characters who’re allowed to be girly AND gross. Mabel Pines. Princess Fiona. The list ends there for me? Sometimes I’ll see girls in media dressed with “unruly” appearances – their hair is SLIGHTLY frazzled and they wear glasses (gasp) – but that’s not real grossness, and it’s especially not grossness combined with girliness.

Gravity Falls isn’t afraid to make Mabel both gross and “girly”, and that’s special.

Next, Mabel’s girliness feels authentic. By “girliness” I mean Mabel taking actions according to Western societal gender norms for ciswomen. I don’t mean that’s how girls have to innately be. I hate the idea that people “should” behave according to gender roles and encourage us all to express our individuality. Anyway. Yes, most women in media have girliness to them… but nothing prepared me to seeing a twelve year old girl act like the twelve year old girls I knew.

Mabel loves bright colors, rainbows, unicorns, cute boys, formal dances, boy bands, and looking cute. These are girly traits and girly interests. But the way they show Mabel, Candy, and Grenda bonding over boy talk at a sleepover? That ridiculous, unrestrained screaming, combined with the mischievous grins, is exactly the sort of stuff I grew up with. It’s not just “oh we wrote a girl who likes pink and makeup who gets catty about crushes” – it’s “oh, we wrote a girl who enjoys her girly side like a twelve year old would!”

Gravity Falls allows Mabel to live according to some elements of the gender norm. The show doesn’t tote the idea that people live without gender influence, that people live in a vacuum of culture. It shows people in society often live by some pattern of gender roles. But, the show doesn’t make Mabel be that norm or preach she should be that norm. Honestly, I don’t see many shows try to strike this balance: willing to give characters gender role interests, while still respecting that everyone is unique and doesn’t need to live by those roles. Either the shows completely drop gender roles (which can be refreshing and help us overcome our biases) or they stick too close to assumptions that your gender = your brain, which is backwards thinking.

GF doesn’t lazily pin a character with girly traits because “that’s what women are.” It doesn’t stop at some assumptive “She wears pretty boots.” It understands Mabel’s psychology, lets her express that girliness unrestrained, provides her screen time to live this (!!! screen time to girl time in an all-gender-demographic-show!!!), and allows her to intersect that girliness with her grossness and her weirdness.

Next, Mabel is allowed to be confident and bold. Society isn’t good with women being bold and outspoken yet. Women often get criticized for being bossy, bitchy, obnoxious, etc. when they speak their minds and act with the confidence that men are “allowed” to have in their daily lives. And yet Mabel can be an outspoken and unrestrained character.

It works well for her age, too! 

Last, Mabel is weird. Mabel has quirks. I’ve said this three hundred times and I’ll say it three hundred more, but Mabel being weird is a delight. It’s not often that women are allowed to be the ridiculous comedic side in children’s / family animation. (Yay Ruffnut for also fulfilling this role.) 

Mabel is unrestricted, allowed to be a wild dork on screen. She’ll eat tubes of toothpaste because they’re sparkly, make “Mabel juice” with plastic dinosaurs in the pitchers, dress pigs in costume, knit scratch-and-sniff sweaters, slap stickers on her uncle’s nose, scream for a minute straight before coughing up glitter, dream up the centaurtaur, and more. 

But it’s not just that. It’s her mindset. Mabel’s excitement for things – down to an eight legged cow having “more limbs for hugging” – is a perspective I essentially never see in stories. She’s got a way of looking at the world like no one else I know. It’s a wild, bizarre perspective… but that’s what makes her so good and human. 

Mabel has a “What the heck?” vibe from her, whether it’s her interests, her thought processes, or her choices.

And frankly, that’s so much more relatable, personable, and beautiful to me… than almost any other woman I see on screen in media. When I see Mabel, I can remember what I was like as a kid.

Although I’m non-binary, I didn’t grow up knowing about non-cis gender. I grew up more or less thinking of myself as a little girl. Many of my childhood experiences were with little girls. So, when I look at old photographs of myself, I see someone with unrestrained energy, joy, and weirdness - just like Mabel.

That is what kids are like, guys! That is what kids are like!

Not this weird restricted stereotype on television I see! But THIS.

So yeah. 

Even just from the topic “What does Mabel bring to women’s representation in media,” Mabel is a shooting star. She’s a success. I love it. It’s freeing, exciting, and refreshing to me, being able to see a woman character given this loving treatment. I’m passionate about women being represented well in media, and not in the sense of falsely-portrayed empowerment. Mabel is the glorious three-dimensional, unique, bizarre, memorable type of girl I want!

She’s worth celebrating for all her personality traits, too: her creativity, her energy, her lightheartedness, her love for her family. But that’s content for another essay.

In short: bless Mabel Pines. Bless, bless, bless Mabel Pines.

This is a damn great character.

[the-jade-cross]

Journey to Middle Earth - Chapter 6

Summary – What if JRR Tolkien never gave Thorin a love story… because the person that was meant to be Thorin’s was not yet born when he wrote the Hobbit? Sara journeys from her world to Middle Earth after an accident, with a mission. To change something about the Hobbit story… but she is not sure what. What she does not know is that while trying to prevent something from happening, something new might arise between her and the dwarf prince….even if it is not on the agenda!

Warnings – None, no explicit scenes, some kissing, violence, frightening creatures, mentions of abuse.

Pairings – Thorin Oakenshield x OC

“We’ll camp here for the night!” Thorin called.

The dwarves all began to dismount and began to unsaddle their horses. Sara was feeling ten times better, so she dismounted herself, even though both Fili and Kili rushed to her side to ensure that she didn’t crumble. She smiled at them and patted both of them on the head.

“It’s alright, I’m fine now.” She assured them.

The two nodded, “We know, but we’re worried that you’ll get worse again!” Sara smiled and gave the two a quick hug each, “Thank you for your concern but I’ll be alright. Besides, if I get sick again I’ll know you two will be there.” Fili and Kili’s face lit up like fireworks and ridiculous grins spread over their young faces. Thorin had just dismounted and was unsaddling his horses when he saw this reaction and for some reason, it aggravated him.

“FILI! KILI! Look after the ponies,” he called, snapping the two out of their joy, “Be sure you stay with them.”

The two dwarves nodded obediently and headed off to do just that. Sara grabbed her backpack and slung it on her back before kneeling down in front of Mason. The puppy was getting bigger to the point where he was almost too big to ride in the saddle with Sara. He was damp but otherwise clean for the rain had kept all the mud from sticking to his fur.

Sara became aware of a demanding presence in front of where she crouched by Mason. She glanced up to see Thorin standing over her.

“You should get some rest,” he pointed out coldly. Sara nodded, “I will, just after you go talk to Gandalf. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of a possible brawl.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow at the girl skeptically, “Who says we will argue?” Sara shrugged, “It’s the tension in the air. It’s easy to read.” Thorin, deciding that Sara was not in the mood to converse with him, headed off to speak with Gandalf. She smiled to herself the moment she saw Thorin and Gandalf begin their heated argument on elves. She ruffled Mason’s ears and grinned.

“So predictable.”

Two minutes later, Gandalf came storming past the dwarves, his face red with fury. He stopped beside Sara and bent down to her petite level.

“I told you I would never ask you about the outcomes in the future but please tell me that one day dwarves will not hate elves so much!”

Sara smiled and felt the urge to laugh, realizing that if you skipped over Tauriel and Kili’s future romance, the next dwarf and elf who made friends were Legolas and Gimli…. About 60 years in the future!

“Possibly,” the girl replied, biting her finger to keep from laughing at Gandalf’s exasperated look.

“Gandalf where are you going?” Bilbo called, fully concerned.

“TO see the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense!” Gandalf snapped.

“And who’s that?” Bilbo pushed.

“Myself Master Baggins!” Gandalf hissed, “I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.” The wizard began to walk off when he stopped and turned back to Sara, “You know what is to happen. Promise me you’ll keep your patience.” Sara shrugged, “I do not have the world in my hands. Who knows, maybe with my presence certain things will begin to happen or not happen. I can only try.” Gandalf nodded, obviously satisfied before storming off again.

Sara watched him, a rather amused look on her face. She bent down and wrapping her arms around Mason’s black form, hauled him into her arms. He was so large now that it felt like she was holding a young goat rather than a puppy.

“What were you talking with Gandalf if I may ask?” Thorin inquired, suddenly appearing behind her.

Sara shrugged, “He just asked me to not lose my head alone with a bunch of temperamental dwarves.”

“Do you have something against dwarves!?” Thorin snapped, eyeing the girl dangerously.

Sara smiled, not in the least way scared of the dwarf, “Not at all! I am rather fond of dwarves… when I’m not in their presence.” Thorin glared, “And what do you mean by that?” Sara just smirked and pushed past the dwarf prince, carrying the puppy with her. Thorin watched her go, completely flabbergasted at what had just occurred. Mason peered over Sara’s shoulder at him and Thorin could have sworn the dog smirked at him.

The next two hours were rather quiet. Bilbo had headed off to deliver soup to Fili and Kili but had only been gone about two minutes. Sara was seated against a rock, Mason laying on her lap fully asleep. It was rather amusing watching the dog for as a baby, Mason had no difficulty in fitting on Sara’s lap when he slept but now, he was as long as her legs, so half his body was dangling off her legs while his head lay on one of her arms.

“Care for seconds lass?” Bofur called. Sara smiled and shook her head, “No thank you Bofur.” “You’re looking a lot better lass,” Oin added.

Thorin looked up from where he had been sharpening his axe. It was true. The color had returned to the girl’s face and she was smiling again. Her eyes still looked a little glossy from exhaustion, but she was hiding it well. However, Thorin noticed a sense of alertness in the girl’s face. Every few minutes she glanced over at where Bilbo had disappeared into the woods and then she would look away, smiling knowingly to herself. Thorin had no idea what was on her mind, but it annoyed him that he didn’t know.

Suddenly, Fili came tramping through the woods, horrified and pale. “TROLLS!” The dwarves were on their feet in an instant, none of them noticing that Sara smiled and slowly got to her feet calmly, moving so as to not rouse Mason.

“Where?” Thorin insisted.

“They got the ponies… and Bilbo. Kili is keeping an eye on them.” “How did Bilbo get taken?” Gloin insisted.

“He went off to rescue the ponies,” came a soft voice.

All eyes spun around to see Sara standing there, completely calm and not worried in the least.

“How did you know?” Fili asked, shocked.

Sara grinned, “You happened to have the burglar with you Fili. Do you really think you or Kili would choose to do it yourself when you could easily convince Bilbo to do it?” Fili looked from Sara to Thorin, then to Balin then back to Sara, “Okay that is creepy. You know more about me than my mother does!”

“Probably because she has seen your dark side more,” Thorin huffed, “Let’s go.” Sara knew she would be no help and honestly, there was no point in her going but she didn’t want to appear suspicious so she grabbed her cloak, but a hand clapped on her shoulder. She was half expecting Thorin, but it turned out to be Fili.

“Please stay behind. You’re still recovering and we don’t want you getting hurt. Besides, you aren’t armed correctly and you haven’t learnt to even handle a sword.” Sara sighed and nodded, trying to act disappointed, “Fine. But if you are gone more than twenty minutes I’m following.” Fili smiled, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” The two smiled at each other before Fili hurried off to join the others. Thorin had watched the whole exchange and he felt that there was something about how Sara complied to Fili’s short reasoning that almost seemed… off… he knew she wasn’t afraid for the look in her eyes carried absolutely no fear… but he wondered why she agreed to stay behind so readily.

Shaking the thought out of his mind, he turned and followed his nephew through the woods.

Twenty minutes passed and the dwarves were still not back. Sara considered staying and not going after them but then she remembered her promise to Fili and she felt she might as well just go see how far along the trolls were with cooking them.

Leaving Mason at the camp, knowing he would bark and reveal their presence, Sara crept through the woods till she found the camp. Sure enough, half the dwarves were on the spit and the other half were tied up in bags and on the ground.

She smiled when she saw Bilbo standing up in his sack, trying to talk sense into the dwarves… but something felt different. Sara glanced up and saw that Bilbo was at the part of the ‘plan’ where he brought in the worms and infections… but Sara saw no sign of Gandalf. Was something wrong? But Gandalf was supposed to be there… what if…. What if something changed because of what she told Gandalf before he left? What if he didn’t return soon enough like in the movie?

Sara began to feel anxious when the point where Gandalf should have appeared approached and there was no sign of the wizard.

She had to think of more diversion so that Gandalf had more time. Curse that wizard! Of all times to be late! Sara racked and racked her brains for a talent that could possibly help the dwarves. She knew gymnastics but it was dangerous around fire…. She had no weapon…then she remembered something. Sprinting back to the camp, she grabbed up her bag and pulled out the last thing she wanted to use but she had no choice… the pistol. Stuffing it into her belt, she ensured that it was full of bullets and gun powder before running back to the troll camp.

Sara felt nervous about using the gun because of the trolls could locate where she was, she was in trouble. Looking around, she spied the perfect tree behind where Thorin, Fili and Kili were tied up with the other dwarves and Bilbo.

She scurried over to the tree and looked at the lowest branch. She mentally cursed her petite size for there was no way she could get up there without help. Then she spied the unsuspecting Thorin and Kili lying not more than five feet away. Laying down on her stomach, she crawled towards them in the undergrowth before she gently tapped Kili on the shoulder.

The boy snapped around and would have said something if Sara hadn’t clapped a hand over his mouth. This caught Thorin’s attention who turned in surprise but relaxed when he saw who it was.

“Quiet, will you?” Sara hissed into Kili’s ear.

The young dwarf quieted and Sara released his mouth, “I need your help getting into the tree.” “How?” Kili whispered.

“Scoot back till you’re sitting against the tree and I’ll use your shoulder as a boost,” Sara whispered back.

“What will you accomplish by doing that?” Thorin whispered, skepticism evident in his voice.

Sara smiled warmly, surprised that it was genuine considering how annoying the dwarf was being, “Trust me.” Kili didn’t wait for his uncle’s approval but scooted back till he was seated against the tree. Thorin sat in front of him, trying to make sure that if the trolls looked, they wouldn’t notice anything. Sara made sure the trolls weren’t looking before she jumped onto Kili’s shoulder and onto the first branch. She could feel Kili and Thorin watching her climb up and she was at once thankful that she had learnt to climb trees as a kid.

When she was sure she was at a part where the trolls couldn’t reach her if they spied her, she sat down on a limb with her back to the trunk so she wouldn’t fall. She pulled out the pistol and removed the safety switch. She held it in her right hand and held the branch above her with her left to steady her.

She remembered all the things that her father and Pierce had told her when they taught her how to shoot. Keep your eyes open, breathe, keep your elbows straight, relax your shoulders. She did this twice before she finally fired the first shot.

The bullet struck the largest Troll in the shoulder and everyone, even the dwarves began to panic. The dwarves began to yell and shout, not sure where the noise was from and who made it. The trolls looked shocked when blood began to pour from the tiny wound on the troll’s shoulder.

“What in the world is that?” one of the trolls asked.

“I don’t know but it hurts a lot!” The shot troll groaned.

Sara fired again at the second largest troll and it struck him in the belly. She knew that they weren’t enough to kill the trolls, but they were definitely distracting the creatures.

“Where is that little beast?” the largest troll asked, grabbing his blade.

He reached over and grabbed Fili from the ground, holding the young dwarf by the neck with one hand and holding the blade to his neck with the other.

“I’ll kill him if you don’t come out!” Sara smiled. She sighted the next shot for the hand that held the blade. She didn’t want to risk Fili’s life by shooting the one that held him, so she aimed and shot. The blade tumbled from the troll’s hand as did Fili as the troll clutched his bleeding wrist and yelled.

The troll was about to grab his blade again when suddenly light began to stream into the camp and Sara could faintly make out the silhouette of Gandalf atop the rock. She sighed. About time!

***********

Sara felt a splitting pain going through her head and she felt incredibly weak. Was her fever returning or did she exert herself too much after recovering? She slowly slid down the tree before landing on the ground, but her head spun. Kili and Fili were at her side in an instant, supporting her.

“That was amazing Sara!” Fili cried. “How did you do that?” “What was that noise you made?” Kili asked. “Was it part of your weapon?” The two young dwarves were pushed to the side when Thorin came storming in their direction. He stopped in front of Sara and glared down at her.

“Hand me the weapon,” he demanded.

Sara decided the best thing was to humor him. Taking out the pistol, she made sure it wasn’t loaded before she placed it in Thorin’s hands. He seemed surprised at the weight of the small weapon. He slowly turned it over, eyeing each part and skillfully running his fingers over the parts.

“How does it work?” he asked, sounding interested.

Sara slowly took the weapon from him before opening it up to show him where the bullets go. “Small pieces of metal are placed it here. There is a little coiled piece of metal called a spring that makes the piece of metal shoot forward when I pull the trigger. It’s like a crossbow, but much more powerful.” Thorin stared at Sara a long time before nodding and turning away, “Don’t use it in future unless you have no other choice. We don’t want to draw attention to us.” Sara nodded and placed the pistol back in her belt underneath her shirt.

About fifteen minutes later, Thorin, Bofur, Gloin, Nori, Dwalin and Gandalf had gone off to check out a cave and the others were following. When they approached the cave, everyone took a few steps back at the horrible stench. Sara felt a deep queasy feeling in her stomach which she assumed was because of the smell.

The group took several steps back away from the smell and all sat down in a clump of trees to come up with a plan. Sara was kneeling down, trying to calm down Mason who had been a little upset that she had left him at the camp when a voice broke the silence.

“SARA!” Kili cried, “You’re bleeding!” Sara froze, half expecting herself to faint right then or a searing pain to appear… but nothing happened. She glanced down at her arms, her chest, felt her back and her neck…. Nothing felt wrong. Suddenly a thought dawned no her and she glanced down at her pants to realize that they were covered in blood. The source? Between her legs.

Sara let out an inaudible groan but put on a smile, “Oh it’s okay Kili.” “Are you kidding me?” Kili cried, rushing over to her. “That is a lot of blood!” The older dwarves and Gandalf had taken one look at Sara’s blood-stained pants and had not said anything else on the subject for they had witnessed that in female dwarves. However, Kili wasn’t to be swayed.

“I just need to get some things from Oin,” Sara replied.

“Well, let me help you patch it up then!” Kili cried.

Sara’s eyes widened and her face paled, “Uh Kili…. This isn’t something I can let you help with….” “I’m on it!” Kili cried, rushing off without letting the girl finish.

Sara stared open mouthed as the young dwarf ran off. Fili was at her side in an instant.

“Kili said you’re bleeding… what happened?” Sara sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, “It’s a feminine thing…” she started, thinking that Fili wouldn’t understand either.

However, the boy’s face showed pure understanding and his cheeks tinted slightly from embarrassment, “Sorry about Kili then… Ama never had that talk with him.” Sara shook her head, “It’s fine… I just need him to stop fussing over me while I fix this…” As if on cue, the young dwarf returned, dragging Thorin with him. Sara buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“Sara! Thorin is here to help! We’ll get you all patched up nicely before you lose too much blood!” Sara almost wished that she was injured just to make Kili feel better because the boy was so enthusiastic about helping that it was almost funny.

“Kili…” the girl sighed.

Thorin stood in front of the girl and for a split second, Sara saw pure worry in his face, “You’re injured? Where?” Sara sighed, “I’m injured by embarrassment,” The girl groaned. “It’s a feminine issue.” Almost immediately Thorin’s face went bright red from embarrassment and he averted his eyes from Sara which made the girl almost want to laugh for she had never seen Thorin embarrassed before.

“Kili you have a head of stone,” Thorin muttered under his breath, grabbing both his nephews by the collar and dragging them off.

Sara smiled warmly at the sight when Oin approached, holding out a handful of clean thick linens. Sara smiled and took them.

“Thank you Oin.” The old dwarf smiled warmly, “Your cycle must have been thrown off schedule when you arrived here.” Sara nodded, “That’s true. I’m afraid I’ve worried Kili though.” Oin waved his hand, “Thorin will take care of it. You should wash out your things before we head off too.” Nodding her head, Sara headed off to the river nearby. After changing into a fresh pair of pants and undergarments, she sunk her soiled clothes into the river and began to vigorously scrub the blood off of them. Luckily the blood hadn’t dried too much, so it wasn’t hard to get out.

Sara was just getting the last of the blood out when she sensed a presence behind her. Looking over her shoulder she saw Thorin standing behind her. His face was no longer showing any embarrassment and he was giving off a slight stench, so Sara guessed they had already been in and out of the cave.

“I found something you might need,” Thorin replied seriously.

Walking over, he stood next to the kneeling girl and held out a bundle wrapped in oilskin. Slowly Sara took it and opening the skin, she saw that it contained two slender dual swords. Elvish. Along with it was a quiver that was empty and a longbow. It reminded Sara of a compound bow because it was a lot stronger than most bows.

“Thank you!”

“I know there are no arrows… but Kili said he wanted to teach you at some point…” Thorin replied seriously in a gruff voice.

Sara smiled, “It’s alright. I’ll either make some or collect some along the way. Thank you for the blades though.” Thorin didn’t reply but tried to look everywhere but at Sara. That was when his eyes landed on the water swirling around in front of Sara which had a tint of red from the blood she had washed from her pants. At once his face went slightly red and he was glad that his beard concealed most of it.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked quietly.

Sara smiled, “Yeah. Just groggy but nothing major. My first day is always the toughest.” Sara sensed that Thorin still felt out of place and nervous on the topic, so she decided to change it. Standing up, she stuffed her things back into her bag and slung it on her back before turning towards Thorin. She was just going to ask about the cave examination when the all too familiar noise of Dwalin calling out that something was approaching sounded. Thorin and Sara both rushed up to the camp but Sara didn’t move to draw her weapons, knowing what was to come.

*******

“THEIVES! FIRE! MURDER!” Radagast cried as he came tumbling through the woods.

Sara tried to suppress her chuckles but the least she could do was grin from ear to ear at the sight of the small brown wizard and his sled of rabbits.

“Radagast,” Gandalf sighed, having not drawn his sword when he saw Sara approach the scene with a calm but excited expression. “Radagast the brown. What on earth are you doing here?” As the two wizards conversed, Sara felt a presence next to her and saw Dwalin lean over towards her, not taking his suspicious eyes off the newcomer.

“So, Thorin give you those?” he asked, nodding towards the girl’s weapons.

Sara glanced down at the quiver that hung from her belt, the dual swords which she had strapped crisscrossed on her back and her bow which she had swung over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at the huge dwarf.

Dwalin chuckled, “Know how to use them?”

The girl smiled, “Not really. I learnt the basics of archery in my world but not enough to hit a target consistently. I’ve never wielded swords before to be honest.” the dwarf grinned, “We should just place a battle axe in your hands! The orcs won’t stand a chance!” The girl grinned, pleased that Dwalin was in a good mood. Just then, Fili and Kili both poked their heads around the tall dwarf, huge grins on their young faces.

“I can teach you Sara!” Fili offered, holding up two of his knives and displaying a smug grin on his face.

Kili quickly pushed his brother’s head out of the way and rushed over to the girl, his arms full of arrows. “I found these in the cave earlier! Uncle said you had no arrows!” Sara smiled and took the arrows before slipping them into her quiver. Every five arrows was different and there were even a few goblin and orc arrows but she didn’t care. At least they got the job done!

“Thanks!” she chirped, “And I’ll take the two of you up on those fighting lessons.” The two boys’ faces lit up like little kids on Christmas morning.

“Really!? When!?” Kili asked.

Sara smiled, “Just as soon as it doesn’t feel like orcs are on our tails.” The two groaned before heading off with Dwalin. They had just walked away when Sara clapped a hand over her mouth. OH NO!!!! They had no idea they were being tailed by orcs! They didn’t find that out for a few more minutes when the warg scouts arrived! What if they caught on?

Sara was on the brink of shaking from worry and desperation to the point where she fell over when she felt two hands hook underneath her arms and lift her up. She was carried like a small puppy over to a log and set down in a sitting position. She lifted her eyes to realize that she had gotten dizzy and her vision slowly swam back into focus and she found Thorin standing over her, looking down at her with those bright blue eyes.

Sara felt her cheeks heat up at the calm, placid look on his face but the worry that shone in his eyes, “You alright? Maybe you shouldn’t exert yourself so much while you’re…. you know.”

The girl chuckled at the dwarf prince’s obvious embarrassment from the mention of her cycle. She nodded and sighed as she relaxed and sank on to the log, glad for the rest.

“You seemed kind of stressed out just now,” the dwarf pointed out, sitting down on a log across from her and leaning on his legs, clasping his hands together in front of him in an almost relaxed way. “What is bothering you?” Sara slowly shook her head, “I just feel like we’re being watched. I know everything has been peaceful… other than the trolls but I just get this dark feeling of foreboding… like when you’re walking into a dark room and don’t know what you’ll find inside.” Thorin smiled, “I know the feeling but I highly doubt anyone knows we’re even on this journey. We’re fine.” The girl nodded but inside her head she was rolling her eyes. ‘Wait for a few more minutes when warg scouts come charging down on us!’

Sara was snapped from her thoughts when she noticed Thorin staring strongly at her, brow slightly furrowed and a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“May I ask you something… about your world?” A smile appeared on Sara’s face and she nodded, her red curls bouncing.

“You mentioned some things about the cruelty of your world but… in your world or at least in your family, what was it like between family members?” Sara cocked her head to the side thoughtfully, “Why do you ask?” Thorin shrugged, “I was just curious as to whether families in your world are similar to what my family was like.” Sara smiled and she felt a soft feeling fill her stomach. “Well. In my family at least I was close with both my parents. I always looked up to them and admired how close they were and how much they loved each other and my brothers and i. As for my brothers, they were the other half of me. My brother Peirce was the only one near my age, but I was still close with them…”

Sara never got to finish for at that moment, Sara heard the all too familiar call of a warg. Mason, who had fallen asleep at her feet perked his ears up and let out a soft bark of warning. Thorin leapt to his feet as did Sara but Thorin planted himself in front of the girl.

“Was that a wolf?” Bilbo asked, “There are wolves out there?” Sara sighed, ‘only if you knew!’

“Wolves?” Bofur asked, “No that’s not a wolf!” Just then, a warg came crashing down the hill towards them but it never reached them. Instead it went flying over its head and landed hard on its side, an arrow in its scull. A second warg charged into the clearing but he too got shot down and landed right next to his fallen companion. All eyes turned to see Sara standing there, behind Thorin. Her bow was in one hand and she had just released both arrows.

Sara looked around at the wide eyes and dangling jaws and shrugged, “Sorry, I really wanted to do that.” Inside her head, Sara was mentally slapping herself for saying that. In truth, she had just acted on instinct and reflex, having known what was going to happen was a good benefit.

“WARG SCOUTS!” Dwalin yelled, “that means an orc pack is not far behind.” Sara was just waiting for Bilbo’s reply when she froze. Wait… wasn’t Thorin supposed to be the one to say that line? How come Dwalin was the one to say it? And why hadn’t Bilbo said his line?

“Orc pack?” Ori asked.

Sara felt herself jolt. What? Did someone change the dialog of the script… wait… this isn’t a movie anymore… it’s real life…. BUT WHY HAS IT CHANGED!?

The girl felt a soft hand on her shoulder and turned to see Balin standing behind her, a quizzical look on his face. She realized he had seen her grab her head and he probably guessed that something was bothering her.

“I’ll explain later,” she whispered, low enough so Thorin didn’t hear.

“Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?” Gandalf yelled.

“No one,” Thorin replied.

Gandalf huffed, earning a mental screech from Sara. What? What happened to the other half of the argument!? What?

“What is going on here?” Thorin asked.

“We’re being hunted,” Sara sighed, having enough of the messed up dialog and decided to just roll with it till she could talk to Gandalf later.

“We need to leave,” Dwalin pointed out.

“We cant!” Ori cried, “The ponies bolted.” “I’ll draw them off,” Radagast offered, determined.

Sara smiled. At least someone was following script!

“These are Gundabad wargs,” Gandalf replied, “you’ll get run over!”

“These are Ruscabel Rabbits,” The smaller wizard replied, happily. “They wont stand a chance.

Sara let out a soft groan that only Balin heard. ‘nevermind!’

[fictionz]

New Fiction 2020 - October

“The Adventure of the German Student” by Washington Irving (1824)

He was, in a manner, a literary goul, feeding in the charnel house of decayed literature.

“The Apparition of Mrs. Veal“ by Daniel Defoe (1706)

If the eyes of our faith were as open as the eyes of our body, we should see numbers of angels about us for our guard.

“Jacqueline Ess: Her Will and Testament” by Clive Barker (1984)

If one has given oneself utterly, watching the beloved sleep can be a vile experience.

“The Soul of the Great Bell” by Lafcadio Hearn (1887)

All the workmen wrought their tasks in silence; there was no sound heard but the muttering of the fires.

"In the Water Works (Birmingham, Alabama 1888)” by Caitlin R. Kiernan (2000)

Fresh wound, these walls, this abscess hollowed into the world’s thin skin.

“The Damned Thing” by Ambrose Bierce (1898)

All seemed to be waiting for something to occur; the dead man only was without expectation.

“A Visit” (prev. “The Lovely House”) by Shirley Jackson (1952)

A tile is missing from the face of Margaret, who died for love.

“Night Surf” by Stephen King (1969)

He said his name was Alvin Sackheim. He kept calling for his grandmother.

“The Lonesome Place” by August Derleth (1948)

What do they know about a place and time when a boy is very small and very alone, and the night is as big as the town, and the darkness is the whole world?

"The Phantom Coach" by Amelia B. Edwards (1864)

Against what superstition have they waged so long and obstinate a war, as against the belief in apparitions?

"Afterward" by Edith Wharton (1910)

The sunny English noon had swallowed him as completely as if he had gone out into Cimmerian night.

"The Demon Lover" by Elizabeth Bowen (1945)

You have no time to run from a face you do not expect.

"The Tower" by Marghanita Laski (1955)

There was nothing left in her brain but the steadily mounting tally of the steps.

"Don't Look Now" by Daphne du Maurier (1971)

How to replace the life of a loved lost child with a dream?

"███████" by Joyce Carol Oates (1998)

Each of us had one, in our bowls. Warm and pulsing with life and fear radiating from it like raw nerves.

"Vampire Princess" by Ryuki Mao (2004)

The human will want to take you into the light, saying it’s for your own good.

"Cruel Sistah" by Nisi Shawl (2005)

One singing note, which he raised and lowered slowly. High and yearning. Soft and questioning. With its voice.

"The You Train" by N.K. Jemisin (2007)

All the defunct lines, the dead lines. I think they never really go away.

"Hello, Moto" by Nnedi Okorafor (2011)

It always felt so good to take from people, not just their money but their very essence.

"Pearls" by Priya Sharma (2012)

All because you couldn't have me.

"Monstro" by Junot Díaz (2012)

Motherfuckers used to say culo would be the end of us. Well, for me it really was.

"Bugs" by Ageha (2013)

Hey, pinky promise you’ll play with me.

"The Graveless Doll of Eric Mutis" by Karen Russell (2013)

Yolk came oozing out of the mystery, covering all our hands, so that we became involved.

"Out of Skin" by Emily Carroll (2013)

A heap of wet skin and decaying cloth, crowded inside a dark pit I’d never seen before.

"How to Get Back to the Forest" by Sofia Samatar (2014)

The smell in the bathroom was terrible now--an animal smell, hot; it thrashed around and it had fur.

"Sixteen Minutes" by Premee Mohamed (2016)

I felt its breath in the night sometimes, like the warm, moist breath of my son when he’d crawl into bed with us.

"Wish You Were Here" by Nadia Bulkin (2016)

Hopefully, by the time the world ends, you’ll be gone.

"A Diet of Worms" by Valerie Valdes (2016)

Hell, maybe you’ll even stay and watch the movie.

"None of This Ever Happened" by Gabriela Santiago (2016)

Someone has to write Uhura looking out the window and dreaming of home.

"The Taming of the Tongue" by Russell Nichols (2016)

You don’t know what this boy wants you to see way out here, but ain’t nothing worth getting eaten alive for.

"Wet Pain" by Terence Taylor (2007)

It doesn’t matter whether you believe in ghosts if they believe in you.

The Walking Dead: The Final Season dev. Telltale Games, Skybound Games (2018-2019)

Maybe we'll learn to fly together, someday.

“Black Box” dir. Monica Garrison (2010)

I felt so special that they had invited just me for a visit that day.

Splice dir. Vincenzo Natali (2009)

You never wanted a normal child because you were afraid of losing control.

In the Tall Grass dir. Vincenzo Natali (2019)

The field doesn't move dead things. It makes them easier to find.

Fright Night dir. Tom Holland (1985)

The master will kill you for this! But not fast. Slowly! Oh, so slowly!

Near Dark dir. Kathryn Bigelow (1987)

Howdy. I'm gonna separate your head from your shoulders. Hope you don't mind none.

Don’t Look Now dir. Nicolas Roeg (1973)

This one who's blind. She's the one that can see.

The Ritual dir. David Bruckner (2017)

It’s the bit they don’t show you in the nature documentaries.

Thirst dir. Park Chan-wook (2009)

He loved helping the hungry. He'd offer me his blood if he wasn't in a coma.

Hush dir. Mike Flanagan (2016)

Too many endings. They are all the same.

A Tale of Two Sisters dir. Kim Jee-woon (2003)

As much as you hate it, I'm the only one in this world you can call mother.

The Invitation dir. Karyn Kusama (2015)

I am different. I'm free. All that useless pain, it's gone.

Bird Box dir. Susanne Bier (2018)

If you look, you will die.

Jennifer’s Body dir. Karyn Kusama (2009)

How could I ever be insecure? I was the Snowflake Queen.

Bee and PuppyCat - Season 1 (2014-2016)

My payment was supposed to be the sweet release of death, and a permanent home for the soul.

The Twilight Zone - Seasons 4-5 (1963-1964)

The others thought about joining the army, or flying to Mars. They finally grew up and they forgot their dreams; I didn’t.

The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020)

To truly love another person is to accept the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them.

[mewhenhorrormovies]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As we

say in Texas, you couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions

printed on the heel. You are a canker, an open wound. I would rather

kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. You took your last vacation in

the Islets of Langerhans.

You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little

worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a

cad, and a weasel. I take that back; you are a festering pustule on a

weasel's rump. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench,

a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same

species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I barf at

the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut.

Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are

a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. You are a technicolor yawn.

And did I mention that you smell?

You are a squeaking rat, a mistake of nature and a heavy-metal bagpipe

player. You were not born. You were hatched into an unwilling world

that rejects the likes of you. You didn't crawl out of a normal egg,

either, but rather a mutant maggot egg rejected by an evil scientist

as being below his low standards. Your alleged parents abandoned you

at birth and then died of shame in recognition of what they had done

to an unsuspecting world. They were a bit late.

Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting

to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a

nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able

to access it ever so much more rapidly. If cluelessness were crude

oil, your scalp would be crawling with caribou.

You are a thick-headed trog. I have seen skeet with more sense than

you have. You are a few bricks short of a full load, a few cards short

of a full deck, a few bytes short of a full core dump, and a few

chromosomes short of a full human. Worse than that, you top-post. God

created houseflies, cockroaches, maggots, mosquitos, fleas, ticks,

slugs, leeches, and intestinal parasites, then he lowered his

standards and made you. I take it back; God didn't make you. You are

Satan's spawn. You are Evil beyond comprehension, half-living in the

slough of despair. You are the entropy which will claim us all. You

are a green-nostriled, crossed eyed, hairy-livered inbred

trout-defiler. You make Ebola look good.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid,

nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an

ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with

you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in

a land that reality forgot. You are not ANSI compliant and your markup

doesn't validate. You have a couple of address lines shorted together.

You should be promoted to Engineering Manager.

Do you really expect your delusional and incoherent ramblings to be

read? Everyone plonked you long ago. Do you fantasize that your

tantrums and conniption fits could possibly be worth the $0.000000001

worth of electricity used to send them? Your life is one big

W.O.M.B.A.T. and your future doesn't look promising either. We need to

trace your bloodline and terminate all siblings and cousins in order

to cleanse humanity of your polluted genes. The good news is that no

normal human would ever mate with you, so we won't have to go into the

sewers in search of your git.

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and

obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living

emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a

loathsome disease, a drooling inbred cross-eyed toesucker. You make

Quakers shout and strike Pentecostals silent. You have a version 1.0

mind in a version 6.12 world. Your mother had to tie a pork chop

around your neck just to get your dog to play with you. You think

that HTTP://WWW.GUYMACON.COM/FUN/INSULT/INDEX.HTM is the name of a

rock band. You believe that P.D.Q. Bach is the greatest composer who

ever lived. You prefer L. Ron Hubbard to Larry Niven and Jerry

Pournelle. Hee-Haw is too deep for you. You would watch test patterns

all day if the other inmates would let you.

On a good day you're a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are

deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of

wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted.

Spammers look down on you. Phone sex operators hang up on you.

Telemarketers refuse to be seen in public with you. You are the source

of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

May you choke on your own foolish opinions. You are a Pusillanimous

galactophage and you wear your sister's training bra. Don't bother

opening the door when you leave - you should be able to slime your

way out underneath. I hope that when you get home your mother runs

out from under the porch and bites you.

You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock.

You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted

boggish foot-licking half-twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You

gormless crook-pated tosser. You bloody churlish boil-brained clotpole

ponce. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You cockered

bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You

dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. May your

spouse be blessed with many bastards.

You are so clueless that if you dressed in a clue skin, doused yourself

in clue musk, and did the clue dance in the middle of a field of horny

clues at the height of clue mating season, you still would not have a

clue. If you were a movie you would be a double feature;

_Battlefield_Earth_ and _Moron_Movies_II_. You would be out of focus.

You are a fiend and a sniveling coward, and you have bad breath. You

are the unholy spawn of a bandy-legged hobo and a syphilitic camel.

You wear strangely mismatched clothing with oddly placed stains. You

are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just knowing that

you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go

away. You are jetsam who dreams of becoming flotsam. You won't make

it. I beg for sweet death to come and remove me from a world which

became unbearable when you crawled out of a harpy's lair.

It is hard to believe how incredibly stupid you are. Stupid as a stone

that the other stones make fun of. So stupid that you have traveled

far beyond stupid as we know it and into a new dimension of stupid.

Meta-stupid. Stupid cubed. Trans-stupid stupid. Stupid collapsed to

a singularity where even the stupons have collapsed into stuponium.

Stupid so dense that no intelligence can escape. Singularity stupid.

Blazing hot summer day on Mercury stupid. You emit more stupid in one

minute than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. It cannot

be possible that anything in our universe can really be this stupid.

This is a primordial fragment from the original big stupid bang. A pure

extract of stupid with absolute stupid purity. Stupid beyond the laws

of nature. I must apologize. I can't go on. This is my epiphany of

stupid. After this experience, you may not hear from me for a while.

I don't think that I can summon the strength left to mock your moronic

opinions and malformed comments about boring trivia or your other

drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped

away most of your of what you wrote, because, well ... it didn't

really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was

pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a

load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after

you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more

success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal"

people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering.

But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this

world who find these things to be difficult. If I had known that this

was true in your case then I would have never have exposed myself to

what you wrote. It just wouldn't have been "right." Sort of like

parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the

emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a

demand on you.

P.S.: You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful,

cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable,

belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal,

fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic,

brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame,

self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, fraudulent,

libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, EDLINoid,

illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking,

devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic,

fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased,

suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim,

crazy, weird, dyspeptic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim,

unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive,

mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive,

abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, and Generally Not Good.

[cleaduvalls]

i watched “spy kids 4″ exactly twice and i plan to keep it that way. here are my thoughts

i had the volume up from the last one because it was SO QUIET and now my ears hurt. not a great start

i used to think that was carmen and i was so disappointed because i wanted to see carmens kids 😔

tik tok????? oh no

i thought tick tock was matthew lillard for most of the movie

you cant do that in the SIMS

why are you shifitng gears. you dont need to shift gears

shut up wilbur have YOU given birth?????

YOU GO IN AT EVERY FIVE TO SEVEN MINUTES AND YOURE AT THREE ARE YOU S T U P I D

wait it sounds like ive given birth i havent i assure you

a pregnant belly wouldnt make that sound

yeah alright whatever shaggy youre high

isnt she from girl meets world??????

itd make a better sitcom honestly

hahah funney because shes a spy

WHY ARE YOU NOT IN THERE WITH YOUR W I F E

birth is NOT that short

i would be great at cinemasins

oh!!!! disabled character!!!!

who approved this show

oh like its HER fault

youre watching the clock speed up why are you not suspicious

roll credits

argonaut. my english teacher would like that

its 5 o clock somewhere

have you not been watching the show??????

there is a serious lack of floop

i feel like ive seen the boy before too

guess not

also i guess this one had a smell feature?????? ig thats why the baby farts so much

AND IT EXPLAINS THE DRESSING!!!! YOU CAN SMELL DRESSING!!!!!

dont say stepmother its creepy

ooh tinker toys!!!! real ones this time!!!!

girl its dyed blue youre gonna stain your carpet

oh God she wants to be FRIENDS

epic????? No

these pranks can all be used for smellovision

aromascope ig??????

BEING FRIENDS!!!! THATS SOME FANFIC LEVEL TROPEYNESS

oops

the CHEETOS

because you pulled the prank?????

power move

those are really your worst fears?????

i have almost that exact clock

youre looking for SPIES not VILLIANS

i kinda want a clock hand sword

MARISSA NO IM DYING OF SECONDHAND EMBARASSMENT

cecils so chill

it looks like the slime from floops castle..... i miss floop

felix has been replaced??? by a computer voice????

oh mood

hahah carmen said that

is that ricky gervais

oh!!!! they broke gender binary!!!!!! took the other chair!!!!!

worlds smallest camera!!!!!!

yeah hes right theres no invisibility powder

ew

its not a SPACESHIP theyre not IN SPACE

hey can we maybe not put that in a movie thanks

yeah i hate this one

that fall was awful

C A R M E N!!!!!!!!!!!

wilbur youre so boring

spy week???? dont you mean shark week?????

buddypack!!!!

IS THAT THE PICTURE FROM WHERE THEY ENTERED FLOOPS CASTLE AND THEN JUNI SAW A THUMB THUMB

i watch these movies too much

except this one this one sucks

7 years ago????? when game over came out????? nice

THE BRAIN THING THAT MADE FOOGLIES!!!

SPY PLANE!!!

SEA GUPPY!!!!

CARMENS GAME SUIT!!!!

why does she still have that

HOW does she still have that

MACHETES ELECTROSHOCK GUMBALLS!!!!!!

DRAGON SPY!!!!

take that giggleses

JUNI!!!! only video tho ://

oof

WAIT I JUST SAW ARGONAUTS NAME TAG AND MY DOG HAD THAT SAME ONE BUT IN PINK AND WE HAD TO GET HER A NEW ONE BECAUSE IT WAS S O  L O U D

your baby is your back up????? Bad Idea

did you not name your child????

why did they pause for a label????

stop making time puns i hate you

i really hope those are floops. like the cereal

stop calling her stepmother like its her name its CREEPY

stop WASTING them

just say youre marissas kids?????? they know who she is

oh God piss joke

oh God POOP joke

right its the bombs that make him cool not the fact that hes literally ricky gervais

and a fart joke????? i hate this movie

silent but LETHAL???? awfyl. i hate it

toot??? stop making fart jokes

OH THEYRE GETTING CHASED CUZ THE SAPPHIRE i need to pay attention more. i blame buzzfeed

“you weirdo you vaporized us” STOP TRYING TO GET ME TO LIKE THIS MOVIE BY PLAYING ON MY NOSTALGIA

its not working btw. i hate this movie

oh look. a butt joke.

oh yay disney acid trip

uh yeah???? hes ricky gervais

yeah except shes WHITE

i kinda wanna go to the cheese shop. wisconsin instincts ig

thats not a WORD

no the red ones the second hand do you know anything?????

how does she know how to army crawl???? shes EIGHT

there are 42 minutes left im suffering

oh no he died

is she wearing twinkle toes??????

did they.... teleport???? was that an awkward cut???? did they straight up travel through time????? im so confused

yknow as an OBVIOUS choice for the next doctor, floop should REALLY be in the movie centered around time

im gonna punch this dude

IM GONNA PUNCH THIS DUDE TOO YOU CAN STILL BE A FAMILY AND CALL YOURSELF STEPKIDS

hes the hulk

oh dear he referenced a meme

he just called the google lady annoying im gonna punch him next

n i c e

SHIITAKE MUSHROOMS!!!!!!

yeah theyre gonna flip youre STALKING THEM

that seems like a Bad Idea

try harder rebecca

IF YOURE GONNA TAKE THEM THERE W H A T DO YOU THINK THEYRE GONNA DO???????

dude you look like youre on crack

youre gonna divorce her because she wasnt allowed to tell you?????????

W H A T

no???? ofc not???? you have no weapons??????

DUDE CHILL SHE L I T E R A L L Y COULDNT TELL YOU

and i feel fine~

J U N I!!!!!!!!!!! FOR REALS!!!!!!!!

oh shiitake mushrooms he got kinda cute

you can???? reach into the garbage can???????

BECAUSE YOURE CHILDREN!!!!!! THEY SHUT DOWN THE SPY KIDS PROGRAM!!!!!!

i love the sound of clockwork. so soothing. that doctor who episode with the time robots???? a fave

oh no they all have died

M A C H E T E!!!!!!!!

why did juni freeze if he didnt really freeze???? thats some buzz lightyear level stuff

oh hey i just realized that junis hair is back!!

oh no now argos the hulk too

the baby looks like dora

hahah funney

HE WAS TOAST IN THE FIRST MOVIE S T O P  P L A Y I N G  O N  N O S T A L G I A

and diaper lady???? Stop

nice censorship

can hearing aids work that well???? im no expert but i dont think they can do that?????

taking his hearing aids???? i hate this guy

R A L P H!!!!

oh!!!!!! sign language!!!!!

Even Evil Has Standards

are they trying to make me cry?? im not

you can travel through time youre just not COOL ENOUGH

oh worm????

side note i figured they were the same guy but i was so disappointed when it wasnt matthew lillard

please let this be over i need to mindlessly scroll the spy kids wiki

stop being philosophical youre wearing twinkle toes

roll credits

us???? wouldnt that be me???? or is us right??? clones are wack

yEET

oh no he died

why did he float???? did they run out of gravity?????

he moved before he touched the watch

yeah but hell see his dad again and thats the point of this whole thing????

oh no he died. for reals this time

this time???? you have 6 months

STOP👏MAKING👏TIME👏PUNS👏

i cant raise my eyebrow😔

YOU CANT DO THAT WE JUST DISCUSSED IT

thats hot

WHY DOES SHE NOT HAVE A NAME

yes bc youre a robot shut up

oh thank God its over