#I feel like I opened up pandora's box hoping for a fun little treat and got the plauge upon me. Dont read this fic.

[yandere-wishes]

𝕊𝕖𝕝𝕗-𝕃𝕠𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 🐚Yandere! leviathan X Reader🐚

I’m trying out a new writing style, so please let me know what you think! This story is rather abstract and switches a bit between reader POV and Leviathan’s POV.

WARNINGS: VERY DARK, suicidal themes, self harm, mild gore, verbal abuse, self-hatred, objectification and cursing.

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ, ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ: "ᴏᴘᴘᴏꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ʀᴇᴘᴇʟꜱ". ʙᴜᴛ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀɴʏ ʟᴏɢɪᴄ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀʟᴍ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʀᴇꜱᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟᴅᴏᴍ?

The two of you were the same, cut from the exact same depressing, aversion cloth. 

The two of you were mangled disjointed creatures with lanky brittle bones made up of self-loathing and mismatched hatred. Broken from displaced frustration and indecent, vulgar tendencies, that no one could snuff out of either of you. 

Instead of guts and intestines both you, the lowly human, and him, the feared sea serpent, had long strings of pity that coiled inside your stomachs.

Eyes as green as the ripest emerald blinded by endless, unchecked envy towards all things that so much as breathed.

Rotting pink brains filled with nothing but depressive thoughts and screeching banshee-like voices that never seem to cease. 

Yes, you and Leviathan were the exact same thing...

There's a certain aroma that floats and flocks around a person with such low regard for themselves. Where ever you walked a thick suffocating cloud of despair followed like a lost limping mutt. Pure unaltered self-disgust rolls off you like waves in the middle of a storm.

This is one of the things Leviathan loves about you, the intoxicating saddening aura that you wear like the finest perfumes. Although if caught like a deer in headlights, the sea serpent would just lie through his shark-like teeth and make some remarks about your pretty smile or shiny eyes. 

Truth is, he HATES when you smile. Hated when hope and joy and all things bright and good twinkle in your eyes like the flicker of a newborn star. 

Oh no, you're all so much prettier when you frown, when you look like your lust for life is all died out. When your eyes twinkle with that sort of sweet despair like all your hope has gotten engulfed by a black hole. 

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

There's something wrong with you. You don't know what, but it's there, you can feel it everywhere you go. 

Maybe it's the repulsive way your skin is stretched so suffocatingly thin across your bones. Or maybe it's the way you pick at your open scars, digging deeper and deeper past blazing red tissue until it starts to bleed again. 

Whatever it is you aren't sure, but something is most definitely wrong with you. 

maybe that's why, on a particularly bad, paranoid day, you finally decide to just end it. 

Although it's never that simple is it?

There's something no one ever tells you about the cessation of life. A mysterious negative hour that happens just as the last atom of oxygen is departing from your lungs. A negative one, a negative two, and if you get expressly unlucky than also a negative three. This is usually when you start to wonder if you did it right, if the rope is too loose or hung too low. The dam of reality breaks and all uncertainty pours through with no real regard for what it's destroying. Are you're really still alive? Or is this some post-mortem induced dream? Everything makes about as much sense as when you were alive, only now it's foggy and ambiguous and all so distant like a far off dream...

It's also the time when every good memory comes rushing back, spilling carelessly akin to the blood gushing from the vain you slashed a month ago. You're dying far too slowly and all too semi-lucidly.

This is far from how you thought your escape plan would go.

The plan shatters even more when you actually open your eyes again and realize that you're no longer dangling from the ceiling. Instead, you're wrapped in some sort of lukewarm blanket, trapped between glacial white walls that bite at your fingers why you try to push them away.

And staring down at you with a sort of raw envy that your human mind couldn't fabricate, was non other than the third born himself.

Up to this day you still don't know who saved you, the seven brothers treat the whole ordeal like Pandora's box, tucking it under volts of diamond and throwing the key into the abyss. As long as it stays out of sight, out of tongue's reach and ears range then it'll surely be out of mind. Everything will be just fine so long as lord Diavolo doesn't hear what happened to the precious little human. Everything is just fine if everyone ignores it.

Personally, you don't mind the outcome. You're restrained to Levi's room, being under his watch and alleged "care" for all hours of the day. It's to keep you safe Lucifer assures, although your own guilt likes to twist the words into something more like, "It's to get rid of a nuisance".

Either which way life starts to escalate just a tiny bit.

Funny how even self-loathing and inner hatred seem to fade away when there's someone to share the pain with.

Soon it's no longer "I wish I could die" or "why can't I just be God damn good enough!"

but rather "We seriously should split a suicide built" and "Wouldn't it be fun if we both dive off a cliff head first into lava?"

With someone just as aggravated and self-destructive as yourself, things start to look up...that is until you do the unforgivable, at least so it's written in Levi's demented book. 

You step too far, you start to ask things, start to pry into things that shouldn't matter to you.

And then you do it, the worst of the worst, you smile...

Straight after asking him such a revolting sincere question

"What do you think about life?" 

It's meant to be rhetorical, you TRY to make it sound rhetorical. But any social norms or form of sarcasm goes over Levi's head like the basketballs he's never able to catch. His attention snaps to you, like a snake being alerted that a predator is a near...or prey, again it's really impossible to tell.

 His neck cranes at an odd angle as his tail curls inwards. For a split millisecond, you can swear on your almost grave that you see his tongue dart out before zipping back into his toothy mouth. Predator, he definitely sees you as a predator.

"Baby, not much...I-i want to die"

Time doesn't stop, not even when all understanding and logic have tipped their hats at the door and disappeared into the great beyond. Leviathan's slit eyes stare at you, behind all the pain and broken anger, for just an instant you think you see the fragments of understanding shine, brighter than the never setting moon. 

He's just like you, 

You're just like him,

That's when the trouble creeps over. The corners of your mouth take a turn upwards and push your cheeks back, making way for a grin. It's faint and ghostly at best...up it's there.

It just has to be there....

That godforsaken satisfied smile. 

When you're attention flicker's to Levi again you notice his arm pulling back, throwing the controller across the room with anger worst than anything Satan could summon upon his worst day. 

"Don't fucking do that!"

You're stoned in place, eyes too scared to move from the sea snake, what went wrong? Why does something always go wrong?

"D-do what..?" 

It's not your fault that you're voice shakes and breaks, not your fault that the room starts to spiral out of control. It's his fault, all his fault...but is anything ever really his fault?

"Don't look happy! Or hopeful! You look so freaking ugly when you smile!"

His voice is shockingly low, like a mother trying to get her child to settle down after a tantrum. He's borderline cooing at you to "act" properly again. Never the less the venom and disgust are steel audible, glittering like a silver lining.

For once though it's not worth it to stop smiling, all the screams and yells and depravities of the world can't erase this smile from your face.

"Six thousand-year-old demon and you actually dream of death rather than eternal hell on earth or torturing the damned? You really are a broken one Leviathan."

The blue-haired sea monster just shrugs in reply before slithering closer, wrapping his slender bony arms around your waist, they feel like Thamnophis coiling around your midsection, sinking into your flesh. His heavy head falls onto your lap, you can practically hear all the outcries of jealousy and cries of purified agony. 

"What can I say...we're both two disgusting broken things that have no right to live or any claim to happiness...but well, fuck happiness who needs it...right?

Yeah, who needs a thing that only creeps into the heart under perfect circumstances and that floats away at the drop of a feather, who needs happiness and joy, when the two of you can forevermore rot in your own envy and depression....together.

Always together

Rotting forever.

"Right...screw happiness and all it's stupid worth."

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

[imagines4undertale]

Hello, yes, uhm—- I just wanted to ask how the US boys (plus Red!) would react to their S/O having a habit of giving them a flower every so often and then telling them the meaning. (I’m a sucker for flower language and suppose S/O is too.) Like a blue hyacinth if they’ve had an argument (which means regret), or a black-eyed susan when they’ve had a bad day (which symbolizes encouragement). Or perhaps just a rose, which means deep love. Thank you and I hope this makes sense! 😅

Makes perfect sense sweetie! One floral imagine coming right up! 🌷

US!Sans(Blue)-

Blue is going to be the most receptive of this kind of gesture and probably return the favor. He’ll try to keep the flowers that you give him alive for as long as possible and treat them like they are priceless until they are fully wilted. Sometimes you’ll catch him just staring at them with a happy smile on his face. He even does his own research on the flowers so when you hand him a rose he immediately turns bright blue in the face before you even tell him what it means. He loves each one and will even suggest making a flower garden in his backyard with all of your favorites in it along with some ingredients for tacos. 

One day, you and Blue were out on a date at a national park with a picnic in tow. Blue had planned the whole thing from food to location and said that it was a day for you to celebrate your 3 year anniversary of your first date. He seemed to be practically vibrating with excitement, which tipped you off that he might be planning something more. You had already set out the contents of the basket Blue had brought and were getting ready to start eating when he told you to close your eyes for a moment. When he tells you to open them, in his hands in front of you is a tissue paper lined box with an intricately woven flower crown of pale pink primrose (I can’t live without you, love, passion), white arbutus blossoms (undying love and devotion), white forget-me-nots (true love, fidelity), and large white and red variegated camellias (you’re a flame in my heart, you’re adorable) inside. Blue carefully removes it from the box and places it atop your head before leaning forward and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“MY CUTE, SWEET, WONDERFUL HUMAN, I HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR SPECIAL SURPRISE! THE MAGNIFICENT SANS HAS BEEN PLANNING THIS FOR WEEKS AND PRACTICING HIS WEAVING EVEN LONGER. I HOPE THIS LITTLE GIFT CAN TELL YOU SOME SMALL PORTION OF THE LOVE I HAVE FOR YOU!” He states with a beaming smile before attacking your face with small peppering kisses. “NOW LET US ENJOY OUR DAY TOGETHER MY PERFECT LITTLE HUMAN.”

US!Papyrus(Stretch)- 

Stretch is a little more laid back about the whole thing. He still loves the sentiment and will take care of the flowers until they wilt, but he won’t put as much into it as Blue does. He will, however, dive head first into any knowledge he can find about flower language. It isn’t something that he does consciously, he just tends to get fixated on things he finds interesting and with you being obsessed with it he can’t help but be interested. Eventually, he might know more than even you, but he’ll never tell you that. Stretch likes having you tell him the meaning and how they are meant to make him smile even if he already knows that, the season they grow in, and what flowers they are related to just by sight. He won’t really reciprocate on a regular basis (it’s a lot of work to find all the right flowers and get them arranged alright?) but he finds other ways to show you he loves you and the sentiment of the flowers. A lot of which is through puns.

The two of you are laying down on the couch in front of the TV with some random show thrown on. It was a Sunday with nothing else really going on. You have your head on Stretch’s chest with the rest of your body draped over his legs and some strategic pillows to save you some of his pointier parts. It was cozy, warm, and when you listened hard enough you could hear the thrum of Stretch’s soul. His chest rose and fell as he pet your hair and hummed a tone of contentment. 

“hmmmm, honey i’m having a ‘lilly’ (it’s heaven to be with you) good day with you. we should do this more often.” He lazily mumbles into your hair.

“Heh, if we had it your way we would just lay here forever never go anywhere.” you huff a laugh into his hoodie. 

“yeeeaaah, so? i just want some’bud’y to love on. i have these ‘tulips’ (perfect love) and i want to put them to good use.” Stretch chuckles, as he lifts your head to peck your lips.

“You don’t even have lips you doof.” You retort as you return the kiss to his cheek. Stretch gives a lazy gasp of offence, draping an arm over his eyes. 

“how dare you. that’s it. i’m ‘leaf’ing you once and ‘floral’. you’ve hurt me too deeply.” He drones out, trying to keep a straight face, but lightly jostling you with the few huffing laughs that manage to escape him. 

“Oh, shut up and ‘plant’ one on me.” You say as you use his hoodie to pull him roughly into a kiss. When you break, both giggling lightly still, you settle back into your comfortable position. From the corner of your eye you see Stretch with a wide, relaxed, smile.

UF!Sans(Red)-

Red will be the least outwardly expressive of his feelings toward the flowers and won't reciprocate at all. He still appreciates them, but you won't see them on display in a vase after you give them to him. It makes him feel weird to have such a meaningful gift given to him and just doesn’t know how to react a lot of the time. Red still thanks you for them and whenever you do it his face flushes a deep red as he accepts them. Internally, Red treasures each flower as if it were made of gold. They are some of his favorite things in the world, though he would never tell anyone that. His favorite would likely be the rose as it is physical proof of your love for him and sometimes he needs something like that. 

You had chosen to hang out at your boyfriend's house for the day. You had been hanging out in his room, laying on his bed, talking, and sharing funny things you found on your phones. Papyrus screamed up the stairs asking Red to bring his laundry down so he could start a load. Begrudgingly, Red dragged himself out from the bed and your arms and began to pull the laundry from the pile that had built from the bottom of his closet. Unfortunately, the clothes had tangled in with some of the objects on a low shelf in the closet and fell to the ground as Red pulled them out. 

Of these objects, the most interesting was a blank covered book that tumbled out and splayed open as it hit the floor. As it did, dozens of carefully pressed and preserved flowers scattered to the floor. Every flower you had ever given Red seemed to litter the floor, each with a small tag tied to it with a description written in fine, beautiful cursive. They seemed undamaged by their trip, but Red looked like he had just unleashed Pandora's box out of the book. His eyes were wide and missing their pricks of light while his face seemed to be fluorescent red and dripping in sweat. Quickly, but with delicate hands, Red placed all the flowers back into the book and then back into the closet.

"...you didn't see no'tin alright?" He says as he wipes his head and starts gathering  up his laundry again.

"N-nope, nothing." You say as you roll toward away from Red and hide your burning face in his pillows.

(Hope I did this one right! I had to do some research, but it was fun! Thank you for the ask, I love making people happy with these. Give me feedback if you can and more asks if you think of some everybody! Have a good day!)

[cbspams]

ONF - New World (Performance MV)

The last one. Ahhh, when I first committed to watching RTK, I wasn't sure what to expect and I didn't know anything about the other groups. I'd seen TBZ's Reveal (Catching Fire) which lured me in and I'm grateful for it because I got to see all the other amazing performances everyone pulled off. Beyond just the performances, it was really heartwarming to get little glimpses of the hard work everyone puts into each stage and how they're always supporting each other, within their own teams and outside of it. I would definitely recommend watching RTK if you're interested in getting into any of the groups featured, and even if not I would still recommend watching the performances because they're all so unique in their arrangements and stages. It's the kind of thing that can only happen on a competition show.

Thanks for putting up with all my ranting and know that I love you if you've read all my different thought posts. I hope you all look forward to Kingdom: Legendary War as well, it's gonna be HYPE!

Alright dudes let's get down to it.

Admittedly I did not love ONF for a lot of RTK. They're a great group, but I felt like their stages didn't favor the same kind of theatricality other groups had. And when they were ranked highly for We Must Love + Moscow Moscow (2nd round, My Song) stage, I was frankly a little miffed.

I adored their stage for It's Raining though, and all throughout RTK even if I didn't love them I still thought they were wonderful. Their reactions were so entertaining to watch and their stages were all fun and well executed.

I struggled watching New World a bit because I couldn't get over the fact they went back to more simple performances when It's Raining had been so elaborate.

The performance MV for New World is amazing. I understand the live performance had to be filmed indoors and that because it's indoors and because the stage is black and the stairs are black and the bleachers are black, the impact is different. But I'm really sad about that because the open air film location they did for the performance MV fit the song's vibes so much better. The kind of controlled sunlight, the open air lattices of the building they were standing on, the contrast between the dark outfits the members had and the bright cream of the building's plaster. All of those contributed to such a different vibe for the song, which is so bright and fun.

The opening to the light performance is a short film, similar to ONEUS and Pentagon. I'm not too sure about this but it seems to start with fast cuts from their previous MVs? And then slows down marginally to give a bit of storyline that seems to be a combination of pre and post apocalypse/societal collapse in a fantasy/cyberpunk mix world? Yeah, I dunno I've watched it 4 times and that's the best I could come up with. Especially because the ending shot is several very large meteors crashing through the atmosphere and like, those are pretty deadly so...?

In the pre-performance bit with the ONF members, they had discussed a theme of Pandora's box. Most people know that Pandora's box is a symbol of curses and tragedy, often tied to themes of humanity's greed versus humanity's innocence in listening to the gods. On opening the box, all the diseases and negativity inside flooded out to torment humanity but Hope remains in the box to allow humanity to maintain light in the darkness, and only humanity can give up hope.

NGL I was really excited to see how they would execute that theme. But then?? They kind of treated the box as a time capsule? I could kind of see it like them put their hopes into the box, which is an interesting twist on the tale of Pandora's box but also Confusion because that's definitely not the theme of that story. I kind of let it go though, because maybe they were just borrowing inspiration from the story and not actually trying to represent it.

Moving onto the actual performance and song. The intro is so intense! It's a really interesting fit because the rest of the song is way more dance upbeat/electric. But as far as openings go, pretty impactful and very pleasing to watch the ripple effect with the backup dancers down the aisle.

Again with the colorful flashing lights. Cool? Yes. Contributing to the aesthetic? Not particularly. Productive to the storyline? No. Part of the performance? Yes. Shruggy on this one, I don't really have anything to add that I haven't mentioned in previous commentaries.

I do really like the song though. Just as a piece of music, it's so fun to listen to and has definitely joined the ranks of my usual kpop bops. The kind of light, fast electro beat is something to jam to. Wyatt's voice is just so good, especially as part of the pre-chorus. The contrast makes it delightful to go from verse one to chorus. The lyrics and message of the song are really well thought out and executed as well, talking about reaching a better world and turning away from hurting each other/the environment/generally being hurtful.

OKAY. So this part is actually something I really adored: the sort of robotic formation. Wherein the members stand in the center of several backup dancers who seem to place on pieces or armor or something onto the member's limbs. A very clean cut, fast paced dance sequence that really strongly reminded me of early iron man scenes in which the different parts of armor were installed on the body. Also lowkey reminiscent of magical girl transformation hahahaha. But it's done so cleanly and while the camera angles make it hard to focus, it's still such a treat to watch. AND THEN. The members come up to the shoulders of the backup dancers and for Wyatt's lines, they're just!! In control! If y'all have watched power rangers or Gundam or Aquarion or Neon Evangelion or like, any of those then you know what I'm talking about, in which the human character slides into some massive machine and controls them from the inside to fight monsters (kaiju) and stuff. And the next bit with J-US and the hands! Creative, interesting imagery, just a complete delight to watch. It's just sooooo fun and I love that for ONF, I really do.

I genuinely think that their theme doesn't make much sense without the context of the lyrics and even then it still feels clunky and sort of inspired by rather than actually embodying the concept. So I'd dock point for them for that personally because I think that when themes are introduced and performed, they should show up as more than just a simple prop. But also I acknowledge that dance and musical performances like this (not musicals) aren't necessarily intended to be storytelling, especially in 4th gen kpop. I do like their theme with the keys and opening, I feel like the performance would have been enhanced if instead of using pandora's box, they choose to use the gateway to the new world. A bit on the nose but a lot more impactful with the key turning bit after the second chorus.

On the key turning bit with the weird holographic box: Dude. Those backup dancers? So clean. Nice stiff steps that feel very robotic which goes wonderfully with the costumes. The keys they each take actually read RTK ONF if you go clockwise from the left (MK). Just a neato little fact. Attention to detail is so good. And the timing of the key turns, of course it was gonna be to the beat but like still! Satisfying af.

Why Wyatt grabs the box and slams it to the ground I don't know. Maybe it has to do with the line dive into new world.

The high notes. Again. Literally just. What the fuck guys, they're so good. I'm gonna cry. The stability, the pitch, just. (sobbing)

The LED screen in the back is interesting? Is it supposed to be a door into the new world? Probably?

Dance break!! Guitar solo!! The door tradition into the weird stripey LED screens that just feels so chaotic and kinda like I'm going through a movie warp portal. Somehow when combined together it all works lmao??

I love the bridge. There's no reason for it, I just love Wyatt's fast paced lines and the kind of dun dun dun fast tempo beat tapping.

The ending of running away from the camera, towards the little cliffs and the LED screen was a good choice because the last lines refer to how they'll never stop as long as they're alive. Not the most impactful ending but definitely satisfying given the song's lyrics and meaning. Again, that lack of pandora's box kind of haunts me?

Overall if I consider this ONF performance compared to their others it doesn't feel quite as thought out and executed. Similar to their We Must Love + Moscow Moscow performance where I couldn't really see the marionette theme, I couldn't really understand the idea of Pandora's box in this performance and I really wish they had chosen perhaps a gateway to the new world or some other theme instead because it would fit much better. It's also a little lackluster compared to the performance MV that had a lot of contrast which created more focus and contributed more to the atmosphere of the performance.

Still, as a performance on it's own, it does pretty well and I'm really happy for ONF to have performed it. Thank you RTK for introducing me to this song and to ONF in general, I hope they continue to release some really good stuff.

[greatatmakingmemes]

Wooden Overcoats S2 Ep7 - Undertakers Underground

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Is anyone dead?”

“You know those intense religious experiences some people get after a brush with death? Well, I didn’t have one!”

“I knew it would end like this - knew or somehow hoped.”

“You did that on purpose!”

“My heart bleeds for you.”

“Your brother and his new best mate just tried to kill me with a DIY IED!”

“It’s not my fault.”

“He could be hiding somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah, used to happen every day.”

“They could be dead already!”

“Oh, poor chap, he’s in shock.”

“This is no time for grieving.” 

“I don’t know anything about a bomb!”

“Stage one: Denial.”

“He’s having bugger all effect, but you can’t fault his enthusiasm.”

“Who says you can’t have a jolly birthday surrounded by mining equipment?”

“Where are those plans?”

“Let me through, you obstinate rocks!”

“A fire could break out!”

“Have you got a bucket of sand?”

“I need access to your files now!”

“Stop climbing out the window!”

“You know where things are now: the files, the hatstand, the cocktail recipe book…”

“She’ll bite your nose off and use it as a pencil sharpener!”

“How do you know so much about the Battle of Acra?” 

“I was a lonely child.”

“This place isn’t exactly an adventure playground.”

“Why don’t you talk about why you and your brother have shown me nothing but resentment since I arrived here?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“Why do you think it’s so strange we don’t get on?”

“Fine. Let’s open Pandora’s box.”

“Maybe it was better when I’d forgotten what the world was like.”

“Still on denial, are we?”

“Ah, we’ve moved on to anger!”

“Would you care to comment?”

“Please? I’ll be your friend.”

“Just keeping the massing hoards at bay.”

“[Name] had a bomb and then he blew it up.”

“Can you tell us a little about your own personal trauma after this tragedy?”

“I didn’t say he was dead.”

“Finally! Something to actually talk about on the air!”

“I’d do anything for five more minutes.”

“Splendid, we’re onto bargaining now! Only two more stages to go!”

“She bit off one of my fingers the other day.”

“I’m too tired to feel pain.”

“My legs seized up four months ago.”

“It’s you, my replacement.” 

“We’re not so different.”

“I haven’t gone on a killing spree.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, just saying ‘we’ll see’!”

“See the large callus on his thumb and on the heel of his palm? That’s a kneading hand.”

“He doesn’t need much anymore.”

“We’ve got to accept death in our line of work.”

“Happy birthday, [name]! Thirty again, is it?”

“I think drinking it might send us blind.”

“Considering we had no resources, and no warning, and no genuine affection for the deceased, I think we gave a pretty good send-off.”

“I once had to live on scorpion meat in the Mojave desert.” 

“I’d rather die in the dark.”

“If they don’t find us by nightfall, we’ll have to huddle together for warmth.”

“I said they were sympathetic, not considerate.”

“Why won’t these rocks go away?”

“I subsisted on bitterness.”

“They took us to the circus once, as a birthday treat.”

“I always find lion taming is more fun to do than to watch.”

“For the love of God, can we all be serious about this for a minute!”

“It was the happiest night of my life.”

“She was so charismatic and free and I wanted to be just like her.”

“I’d love to meet the person who can make [name] laugh.”

“[Name], are you still there?”

“You’re… scared of the dark?”

“How do I look?”

“I could hold your hand if you like.”

“Told you: I’m great at bringing people back alive.”

“I’ve seen a lot of tunnels with some very striking insignia on them.”

“I’m accepting it now!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, [Name], you’re dead down a mineshaft and that’s okay!”

“He should really put that pickaxe down before he hurts himself…!”

“That was important. It meant something. Couldn’t you feel it?”

“I want you to come and work with me.”

“[Name], stop moving, you’ll break your ankle.”

“Stop writhing in agony!”

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

The Girl in The Blue Dress

Chapter 1: Hope and Music

@megatraven hehe here’s chapter one >:)

This is based on Greek mythology kinda and I looked up stuff. If I have stuff wrong please don’t kill me guys djwndb

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When the world was first created, Chaos ruled the world.

It was full of nothing, until one day the goddess of Earth, Gaia, was suddenly created.

After years and events happened, the Human was created. Prometheus made them firstly out of mud and did many things for them.

However, when Prometheus stole fire for the humans, he took vengeance by presenting Pandora to Prometheus’s brother, Epimethus.

One day, she opened a box that was in her care and caused sickness, death, and other evils to release into the world. However, she shut the box before Hope could escape, so there was still Hope for humanity.

As all of the misery took over the world, life changed and events happened, but there was hope that life would get better as it got harder.

And it all lead up to one little girl being born that seemed full of hope and love.

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“Wait up, Rose!”

Rose was running towards the beautiful ocean, the sunlight making it seem even more beautiful. Her little sister, Vanessa, was following her as well.

“You hurry up, slow-poke!”

Rose got to the water first and instantly jumped into the water, Vanessa following after.

“Isn’t this so fun?!” Rose asked Vanessa as she ran her fingers through her hair, messing up her hair even more.

“It really is! It’s been very hot recently,” Vanessa said as she jumped up a bit, her short legs barely touching the ocean floor.

They continued to swim for awhile, both splashing the other, going under water and holding their breaths, and doing some swimming races (Rose almost always wins). However, Rose noticed a big wave coming towards them.

“Hey, Vanessa, come over here,” Rose said as she gestured to herself, opening her arms up as if she was gonna give Vanessa a hug. Once Vanessa did come to her, Rose wrapped her arms tight around Vanessa, waiting for the wave to hit them, so she could keep his sister afloat. Once it was gone, Vanessa wiggled our of her older sisters arms.

“Rose, I can swim! I’m not a little baby,” Vanessa whined to her sister. She hated being treated like she couldn’t do anything on her own. She always wanted to impress her sister or her mother.

“You’re still 5 and can barely touch the ocean floor at 3 feet, and let me remind you the ocean current is very strong.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Vanessa said to her sister as she rolled her eyes, but she continued to swim with her sister and they had a lot of fun together. However, Rose noticed it was getting even later than it was and got herself and Vanessa out of the water. They shook themselves a bit, so the water could get off of them before they went home.

As Rose was waiting for Vanessa to finish, she began to hear a noise. It sounded like music to her, but she didn’t know what kind of instrument. She felt the want to follow it, but knew she probably shouldn’t.

As she was spacing out, listening to the beautiful tune, her sister pulled on Roses blue dress and snapped her out of it.

“I wanna go home,” Vanessa whines to Rose.

Rose smiles and ruffles Vanessas hair. However, she listens to her younger sister and grabs her hand and leads her back to their home.

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As Rose and Vanessa get back into their town area, Rose decides to stop by and see one of her friends, and it was to Mr. Sanchez’s shop.

Mr. Sanchez sold a lot of different things. It was antiques, hunting supplies, and some clothes people didn’t want anymore. It was a nice, cozy store, and Rose really liked it. And she liked Mr. Sanchez, too. As Rose walked into the store, Mr. Sanchez was by the counter counting money.

“Good evening, Mr. Sanchez,” Rose said to him with a smile. She really loved seeing all of her friends she had and everyone when she could. Especially when she could help out. Rose calling out caused Mr. Sanchez to let out a laugh.

“Hey, hey! If aint little Miss Rose!” Mr. Sanchez loved seeing Rose too. She always tried to help with anything she could, and he loved talking to her. She was a very talkative kid.

“Yep, it’s me! I was wondering if you needed help with anything,” Rose told him, basically bouncing on her feet.

Mr. Sanchez looked around the store and looked down at the coins he was counting. “Why don’t you two help me count these coins?”

Rose let out a hum and lead Vanessa and herself to behind the counter and waited for Mr. Sanchez to give her things she needed to do. He handed Rose some coins and Vanessa some coins. He knew Vanessa was learning to count and read, so he loved giving her a little challenge, but he knew Rose could count very well since she was 10. Rose and Vanessa started counting the coins and would help each other sometimes (Rose helping Vanessa more than the other way around). Once they were done, Mr. Sanchez ruffled both of their heads and they both giggled.

“Hey, why don’t you take some of these coins home with you? You basically help me everyday.”

Rose looked a little conflicted. She knows her family needs a little more money, but so did Mr. Sanchez. It was his money after all. “Are you sure, Mr. Sanchez, it is your money after all, I don’t wanna steal from you.”

Mr. Sanchez let out a chuckle but shook his head. “Don’t worry about it at all! You two help me out a lot, so you deserve a little bit of payment. Besides, it’s not too much to basically rob me.”

Rose nodded and took the coins he was offering her. Then, she and Vanessa bid Mr. Sanchez goodnight and left to go back to their home. Once they got there, they realized it was pretty late. The moon was shining bright in the sky. Once they knocked on their homes door, they were preparing for a lecture from their mother. Once it opened, they were faced with their mom looking very angry.

“What were you two doing?! Why were you out so late?! I only said you could go to the beach and back!”

Rose and Vanessa were at the dinner table and were listening to their mother give them a lecture she always gave if they came back late.

“We’re sorry, Momma. It was my fault, I dragged Vanessa with me to visit Mr. Sanchez and see if he needed help, and he did, so we helped him. Sorry it took so long,” Rose said as she looked down at the ground, a little scared to look her mom in the eye. This caused their mom to sigh and ruffle their hair.

“It’s okay. I just worry about you both, alright? You have to be safe for your sake and mine. Alright?”

Both of the kids nodded and gave their mom a hug and got ready for bed. However, Rose did give her mother the coins Mr. Sanchez offered and her mom smiled and kissed Roses forehead. “Thanks, sweetie. See, always being kind gives your rewards.”

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One day, Rose was picking flowers in a field. She was wearing her blue dress that fell to her knees, and wearing some sandals. She had her hair in a braid to keep it out of her face and a basket in her hand for the flowers. She was looking for roses because they were her favorite, but she did find other flowers to pick and take care of.

As she was doing that, she began to hear the same music she heard the other day. It sounded closer and even more beautiful to her. She stood there and listened for awhile, until her curiosity got the best of her.

She knew she wasn’t allowed to follow random things, but she needed to know where the music was coming from. She walked through the field and came upon some trees that were leaning against one another and had a little tunnel like opening to another side. She slid through the area and came to a river. She looked around and saw the source of the music.

There was a man that had a gold, toga on, his hair was bright blonde (it looked gold to Rose), and he was holding a gold, string instrument in his hand, and was playing it with his eyes closed. Rose was excited to hear the music and wanted to know what kind of music it was. He was sitting on the edge of the grass so his feet were in the water. She walked over to him and sat around 1 foot in front of him. She didn’t want to scare him, so she didn’t speak until he was done playing.

Once he finished, she began to speak. “That’s really pretty, mister,” Rose said with a smile. Her voice caused the man to jump out of surprise and open his eyes. She saw that they were a nice shade of grey. He looked at her and let out a breath of relief.

“You scared me, kid.” His voice sounded a little deep but not too deep to be scary.

“Well, sorry. It’s just that I really like your instrument. What’s it called?”

The man looked down at the instrument in his hand and smiled at Rose. “It’s called a Harp, and it is very pretty.” The man smiled at Rose but eventually looked away.

“Can I try to play it?” Rose held out her hands as if he was going to say yes, but she really wanted to see it. However, the man looked at her a little angry.

“No. I don’t really share my instruments,” he said with an angry tone. This caused Rose to feel a little guilty.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you angry, I just wanted to learn,” Rose said as she looked down at her lap.

The man let out a little sigh but assured her it was fine.

“Well, can I listen to you play while I mess with my flowers?”

The man looked a little confused but eventually nodded, he just wanted her a little quiet.

The man began to play a quiet and soothing tune, fingers playing across skillfully and he seemed really calm. Once he began, Rose began to take her flowers out of her basket and began weaving them together. The only sounds to be heard were the beautiful harp and the sound of flowers being folded over and over again.

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“Do you want me to make you one?”

The man opened his eyes to see Rose have a rose flower crown on her head. He looked a little confused. “Do I want what?”

“A flower crown, duh!” Rose let out a laugh and looked up at him excitedly. She loved making flower crowns, so she would take any excuse to make one. The man eventually let out a sigh and nodded.

Rose began to make the flower crown and he continued playing. Once she was done, she tapped him on the shoulder and he looked at her to see her holding out a flower crown to him. He took it and placed it on his head, which caused her to smile very hard.

“There ya go! One for my new friend,” she said with a bright smile on her face.

The man let out a soft huff and looked away. “Really? Who said we were friends?”

“Well, I did!” Rose put on a face that screamed “are you dumb?” The man laughed at her but eventually nodded.

“Alright. I guess we’re friends,” he said as ruffled her hair. He then began to stand up and brush off some dirt he had on him. “Well, sorry but I got to get going, Miss.”

“Rose. The names Rose,” she interrupted him. He smiled at her and nodded.

“Well, sorry Rose but I gotta go. I hope you have a nice day.”

The man helped her up and turned her around and gently gave her a little push, basically telling her to leave him. She grabbed her basket and left like he basically told her.

However, once she got to the tunnel ready to leave, she turned around and the man was gone. She brushed it off and headed back home, ready to show her mom the flowers she got.

[imagine-loki]

Not as it Seems

TITLE: Not as it seems 

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter two

AUTHOR: Technically a-pandoras-box-of-characters, but my story blog (a-pandoras-box-of-stories) is a side blog, so I’ll likely be reblogging my story there too. 

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that Loki is banished to Midgard shortly after Thor: the dark world. However, as punishment for his crimes, he is forced into the form of a common animal on earth to prevent his use of magic and silver tongue. This common animal is a cat. 

RATING: Right now should be fine for anyone to read, later chapter rating may change. 

NOTES/WARNINGS: Up until they learn his name, he is thought not to have one. The characters I’m using are Rp characters, but I thought that this would be fun. Feedback would be appreciated! :) (Also, her name is pronounced “Eye-zale-ia,” similar to ‘Azalea,’ but different because I’m weird and like the sound of my spelling better.)

** Chapters may run longer or shorter depending on what ideas I have for them! 

Second note: I’ve started to upload this to my AO3 account, here.

Tagging: @puppens101 

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The next morning, Izzy woke up to the sight of the plate that she had left being almost entirely empty. There did not seem to be any trace of the selections of meat that she had set out, which brought a smile to her face as soon as she had wiped her eyes and stretched her sore muscles out. 

Swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, Izzy went over to the plate and picked it up. Walking out of her room, she shut the door behind her. Softly, so as to hopefully not wake the cat still sleeping on her bookshelf. After that, she went to the kitchen to get herself something to drink. Taking her time with it, she sighed quietly. It looked like neither Ash nor Luna were awake yet, so she took it upon herself to go through the bags of cat supplies and toys that they had brought back the night before. 

There were several different kinds of cat treats, a few bags of catnip, cans of wet food, and at the bottom of one bag, what looked like the receipt for an order they’d made for some sort of a cat climby thing due to be delivered later on in the day. 

“Well..he ought to enjoy that, it’s pricey so it must be good.” Aizalea shrugged to herself, setting the receipt to the side for the moment. The next bag had various kinds of kitty toys, and little shirts to put on him. Something, that Izzy was fairly certain was likely Ash’s idea. Sitting separate from the two overflowing bags, was a box for a self-cleaning litter box, and a big bag of litter that had a bunch of stuff listed off on the front. ‘Fresh scent guaranteed to last for hours,’ ‘Perfect feel for your cat’s paws,’ ‘Clumps well and works great with self-cleaning litter boxes’ - and so forth. 

“This wasn’t here last night..” Izzy muttered to herself, then shaking her head. She figured there must have been some point in the night when either Luna, Ash, or both of them could not sleep and brought it inside for her to set up for the kitty. 

“Oh, well. I hope that he likes all of this..” she sighed, pulling the stuff out to begin clipping off the tags. As she did this, she set aside together what went together. Toys with toys, food with food, and clothes by themselves. The clothes, being something that she wasn’t sure that he was even going to cooperate for - really, she was expecting more hissing and growling if any of the three of them tried to put a shirt on him. 

As for said feline, he was not bothered with moving until after Izzy had finished going and out of her room about a million times to set things up for him. Food and water dishes in one spot, a fluffy pillow in another; he assumed that it was meant for him to sleep on. There was a basket with toys in it, one of which seemed to have some sort of treat inside, judging by the smell of it. 

Most of the things that had been brought into her room were not too horrible, he supposed. It did not mean that he was in any more of a mood to ‘communicate with her,’ though. Especially when he found the litter box. Such an undignified thing! Horrendous. It was better than going in a dark, disgusting alley. True. But that did not mean that he was not planning for his revenge the very moment he had the chance to get it. Sticking him in the form of a cat with no way to change back. The nerve. After all that he’d been through, hadn’t it been enough? Being stuck like this was just another thing to be bitter and unhappy about. 

However… the food that Izzy had left for him the night before was not bad. It was actually very delicious, and not hard to eat even with him being stuck as an animal. Had he been ready to trust her - which he wasn’t - it was likely that he would have accepted her little “peace offering.” Given that he was still in a sour mood, it was going to take more than that to get him to respond well to her. Or to the other two - if he ever did warm up to that hyper one at all.  In some ways, she reminded him far too much of his brother, who was a large part of why he was stuck like this now.

After being left in here for what felt like forever, he decided that maybe Izzy wasn’t around. He was sure she suspected something but wasn’t holding his breath for her to figure it out completely any time soon. He wasn’t that lucky. 

Left to his own devices, he went over to the bookshelf and worked a book off of it. Nudging it over to his pillow, he opened it up and tried to hold it open as best as he could. It didn’t work as well as he’d hoped, so a toy was retrieved from the basket so that he could use it to hold the book down. With that accomplished, he went over to lay on the pillow and try to read the book. No matter how he tried looking at it, though, the words all looked just like a bunch of squiggles and meaningless lines to him. One more thing to be mad about! He’d forgotten..most animals could not read. 

Turning away from the book in anger, he curled up on his pillow to sulk. It hurt less but was still painful. How he wished he had his magic back, then these injuries would be nothing. Then again, if he had his magic, then he wouldn’t be stuck as this creature either. Doomed to be what, a house pet? Wonderful. 

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A few hours later into the morning, Ash and Luna got up and went about their business. Making food for themselves, sitting down with a book, or getting dressed. By the time that was all done, the delivery for the kitty condo had been made. Seeing as Luna had sat down with her book again not long after she’d gotten dressed and looked to be pretty invested in the story, Ash decided to help Izzy put it together. Which, proved to be a lot easier than the instructions made it look to be. 

As they put the pieces together, Ash could tell that her friend had something on her mind. 

“Okay, what’s up?” Ash asked her, with a nudge to Izzy’s leg from her foot. 

“Hm?” Izzy looked up a bit, a slight frown on her face. Pausing with the piece that she had in her hands, she sighed. “Oh, right..” chewing on the side of her lip, Izzy shrugged. Going to put the piece of the condo where it belonged, she heard Ash clearing her throat at her. 

“I know when something’s bothering you, Iz. Spill, or the next time that we have tomatoes I’m stealing all of yours.” Ash folded her arms, the piece that she’d picked up still in her left hand. The look that she gave her as she made her - relatively cheap - threat to steal Izzy’s favorite snack away from her the next time she had it, said that she was serious. 

“Come on, tell me. Is it about the cat?” Ash pressed, her expression softening just a little. “Is he not doing well, or not communicating with you, or what?” 

The continued asking finally got to Izzy: what she’d had on her mind for most of the morning was going to be spoken one way or another; whether Izzy liked it or she didn’t, one thing about having another hybrid as a friend was that she had the same sense for emotions that Aizalea herself did. She could tell when someone was upset, it was like another added sense or something. 

“Yeah, kinda..” Izzy sighed, running a hand through her hair. “He won’t tell me anything, so I have no idea if he’s already got a name or not. And, on top of that..” she trailed off, her eyebrows creasing slightly. “I have been trying to decide if I should try using magic to help him heal or not. I don’t know how he’d respond to it, and I’m a little afraid that it may just scare him.” 

Once having confessed this, Izzy looked over at Ash for her opinion. It was then, that Luna looked up from her book to make a comment of her own on the situation. 

“Why don’t you bring him out to see the cat thing, and try healing him up later? Maybe if you do it slowly over time, then he won’t be as afraid? It might also help if he’s got somewhere to go of his own, outside of your room.” Looking back down at her book again, Luna began to read as she awaited any answers from either Aizalea or her sister Ash. 

Thinking it over, Ash nodded. “That sounds like a great idea! Why don’t we get this set up and put treats in it, then you can go and get the kitty and see how he reacts to it?” she suggested this with a smile, while Izzy thought about it for a moment. 

“I guess I could try that, yeah..” she sighed finally, nodding a bit. “I’m just hoping that he will take well to it,” Izzy concluded, going back to helping Ash put the remaining pieces to the kitty condo together. It was a brownish-grey color scheme - not the most appealing thing in their living room, but it was covered in nice, fluffy, carpeting, which should feel good to even the sorest feline paws; Izzy was sure that he would enjoy, or at least tolerate it well. 

With it put together, Izzy got up from the floor and brushed herself off. Heading to her room, she opened the door and looked inside. The first thing she came to, was what appeared to be the cat that she’d left in there earlier - the same cat - sulking on the pillow that she’d left him. That wasn’t what she found to be odd. What she found to be odd, was the presence of the book sitting on the floor in front of it. One of the toys that she’d left for him had been moved to hold it open like he wanted to try to.. read it? 

What was going on? 

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“You’re not a normal cat, are you..?” Izzy shut her door behind her and took a few steps closer to him. Squatting down, she slowly sat down fully and crossed her legs. The cat in front of her shifted slightly on the pillow but didn’t turn to face her yet.  His ears were perked up, alert and twitching. Even if he wasn’t looking at her, it appeared that she at least had his attention. 

“This book, you were trying to read it..” she pressed lightly, turning the book around so that she could see it better. “Tell me, I promise I won’t hurt you. Just speak to me..” Aizalea’s brows furrowed, a concerned look on her face. If this didn’t work, she didn’t know what else she was going to try in order to get some form of communication from him. 

After what seemed like several minutes of excruciating and frustrating waiting, the cat turned his head and looked at her. Ears back, he finally answered her. To anyone else, it may have sounded like a simple ‘meow.’ To Aizalea, it sounded like words. Words! At last, she was getting somewhere.  However, it was not exactly a very helpful answer. Four words, taken up in one meow and a huff following it. 

“You have no idea.”

[canadian-riddler]

Borderlands: Cat-trap

By Indiana

Synopsis: Claptrap has some special, special friends.  With credit to @hugsforvillains 

 Claptrap had, at some point in time, acquired a great deal of kittens.

  … or perhaps he only had two or three (or maybe four), and it simply seemed as though he had a great deal of them.  The furry little things seemed to be everywhere.  When Claptrap was around, you were guaranteed to find a kitten someplace you didn’t want one. Or, at least, a great deal of cat hair. And pee.  There was a lot of that too.

Yes, those kittens seemed to think Claptrap was some sort of metallic and very thoughtlessly shaped cat tree.  Not that he made any indication he cared.  No, Claptrap was apparently quite content to stand there with his arms out, letting the cats crawl all over him like some sort of massive, noisy caterpillars.  The upside was that when he was talking, he was talking mostly to the cats.  The downside was that he didn’t see proceeding with life as usual covered in cats as a problem.  Whenever somebody brought it up, his go-to response was, “But they’re so cuuuuuute!”, which he said whilst holding out a squirming cat, following it up with, “C’mon, pet him!”

Well, the goal of getting rid of them was just a lost cause when there was a double handful of soft and tiny kitty in front of one’s face.

There was honestly no getting away from those cats.  They were underfoot, over-foot, and on-top-of-lap.  Claptrap, having no grasp of any kind of boundaries himself, had obviously not attempted to curb their behaviour in any way whatsoever.  “Claptrap,” asked Moxxi rhetorically, removing a kitten from the beer pitcher she had found it in, “is this yours?”

“Captain Sexyboy!” crowed Claptrap, throwing his arms in the air whilst simultaneously not moving to accept the cat.  “I have been looking all over for you!”

“You named your cat Captain Sexyboy?” Moxxi asked, squinting into the pitcher, taking note of the voluminous collection of cat hair, and then electing to pour the draft into it anyway.

“Well, duh,” Claptrap said, ignoring the animal as it jumped off the bar and onto the counter holding the moderately impressive collection of mismatched glasses and tumblers. “Look at how sexy he is! He’s gonna have so many kids when he grows up.”

All Moxxi saw was a cat enthusiastically making a mess of her clean(ish) glasses, but she obviously didn’t know anything, as Captain Sexyboy was indeed very handsome.

Eventually (to everyone’s immense relief) the cats gradually tagged along with Claptrap less and less. Which meant (to everyone’s immense chagrin) that Claptrap went back to talking to them instead of the cats. And that, if you didn’t know, is one of the most unacceptable forms of torture listed in the Geneva Convention, right up there with waterboarding and sensory deprivation.  The latter, of course, being far preferable to whatever noise Claptrap happened to be making on any given day.

At some point he had acquired a very deep gouge in his chassis (which had conveniently managed not to sever anything important (if there was indeed anything important in there to sever)), but nobody knew where he’d gotten it from or when.  Not because he hadn’t told them all several times each, but because nobody cared.  Until Hammerlock, damn his insatiable curiosity about the beasts of Pandora, actually did ask him about it.  Everyone in their vicinity knew that was a terrible, terrible mistake and immediately chugged whatever drink they had in front of them in the hopes of ushering in the blanks of memory infallibly produced by excessive amounts of alcohol.

“It’s those cats,” Claptrap lamented unnecessarily loudly, waving one hand over what he thought was a drink but what was actually a cup of whatever was dripping out from under the dishwasher.  “They just do not understand they’re too big to climb on me!”

“Oh, my dear boy,” Hammerlock said, too polite to withhold a response even though he really should have at least tried, “they understand. But if you thought they would care, well, that’s where you’re gravely mistaken.”

“They just are not good listeners!” continued Claptrap ironically.  

“I see,” said Hammerlock, wishing fervently he had not started this conversation.  This wish followed him for the rest of the day.  Mostly because Claptrap followed him for the rest of the day.

Claptrap continued telling outrageous stories about the cats, from things such as, “They keep thinking I’m some kinda toy!  Who would think that, right?” to, “One ‘a them ruined Brick’s garden, but you guys’ll keep that to yourselves, right?” and concluding with, “They ran off into the desert to live their lives without meeee!”  This last one was accompanied by hysterical sobbing, which might have garnered him more sympathy if he hadn’t done the same thing the day before when someone changed the song on the jukebox before his had ended.

“Moxxi!” Claptrap hollered as he entered the bar one afternoon, causing several patrons to scramble for the exit complete with chair-tossing, drink-spilling, and table-overturning. At least one of them was skipping out on his bill, for which he would probably be catching a bullet in the head for. “The things I have seen today!”

Moxxi rolled her eyes and, because she was out of dishwasher juice, provided him with the sludge that was coming out of the bottom of the sink.  What she gave him turned out not to matter, because as soon as he got up on the barstool he waved his hand dramatically and it flung the foul mixture across the bar, which of course hit some poor bastard in the face. Unfortunately, he was far bigger and stronger than Claptrap.  Fortunately, he had fallen fast asleep in a puddle of his lite beer some time ago. That’s what happens when your bartender doesn’t cut people off.

“I couldn’t believe my eye!” Claptrap shouted to no one in particular.  “They ate him!”

“What?” asked the man next to him, merely because he was drunk enough he couldn’t shut up.  Claptrap immediately turned to face him.

“Phantom of the Opera!” he explained, leaning over far enough a few people began to hope he’d fall off the barstool.  It wouldn’t stop him talking, but it would be funny.  “They just tore inta him!  Ripped him apart like he was an imitation condom!  It was… it was… well, it was pretty cool, actually.  I was gonna say I was horrified, and I was, while it was happening, but now I’m thinkin’ about it… yeah!  It was pretty lit!”

“You named – you know the Phantom of the Opera had a name, right?” the man asked in exasperation, as he happened to be a massive theatre snob and had memorised everything about every Phantom production that had ever been made.  And if you thought there were a lot where you come from, well, you haven’t seen Phantom performed solely with live skags, have you?

“Of course I do!” Claptrap somehow snorted, because he, too, happened to be a massive theatre snob who had memorised everything about every Phantom production that had ever been made, including the one that was performed solely with live skags. “I just liked the name Phantom of the Opera better!”

If Claptrap had been any other person, the man would have smashed his glass over Claptrap’s head and left.  Since that would have absolutely no effect, he smashed it over the head of the person on his other side instead.  That was how Claptrap started his eighty-ninth bar fight, despite not actually fighting anybody.  That got Claptrap kicked out of Moxxi’s for the hundred and seventy-fourth time, despite his protests that he’d done nothing wrong.  Surprisingly, he hadn’t, but that had never mattered before and so it absolutely wouldn’t now nor any other time in the future.

As they often did, a bandit spotted Claptrap rolling obliviously along through the dust by himself.  And again, as they often did, he decided now was a good time to put the robot out of his misery.  Wait, no.  To put everyone else out of their misery.  From having to put up with him.  Because he’s – yes.  Moving on.

The bandit sauntered across the dirt, both hands holding a shotgun that was mostly built out of other, discarded, crappier shotguns, and thought about what he might like to do with Claptrap once he’d caught up with him.  The bandit was both too stupid and too ignorant (mostly ignorant) to know quite why the little robot reacted to even extremely unpleasant experiences such as being set on fire and electrocuted with exuberant good cheer, but he didn’t really need to know.  All he needed to know was that it was pretty funny.  He was cool with just knowing that.

As he ambled along he pondered just how he would do it.  He could always shoot him, of course, but then there was the risk that he would ruin something important and then Claptrap would die, and that wouldn’t be worth his time.  He could try demanding the robot turn himself off, which he would probably agree to do, but then the bandit would have to drag what looked to be a very heavy robot back to camp, and that just didn’t sound like fun.  He decided that his best bet would be simply to ask him to come along.  From what he’d heard, the stupid thing would probably do it, too.  And he’d heard right, unfortunately.  

“Hello, Claptrap,” the bandit announced, in a voice that he probably thought sounded friendly and welcoming, but really sounded like that obnoxious stranger who opens their screen door on Halloween and thinks it’s clever to hand out boxes containing about eight sour raisins or pint-sized toothbrushes with bristles that make it feel like you’re sucking on a soggy, fuzzy hairbrush.  “Where are you headed?”

“Good day, gentle sir!” returned Claptrap, who had never been trick-or-treating and so had no idea what voice the bandit was using.  “I’m searching for my friend!  He’s around here somewhere, but you know how friends are.  Always running off on you!”

The bandit stifled a laugh and a gleeful smile.  Or at least, he thought he did.  He actually looked mildly like he had been holding his breath for a very long time in a strange attempt to impress someone.  A woman, probably.  Or perhaps a man.  Or possibly himself in the mirror.  “Friends?” the bandit said, in a way that conjured up visions of screaming doormats and someone sitting in a rocking chair on their porch breathing very slowly into a Darth Vader mask in the minds of everyone within a one-hundred kilometre radius, excluding Claptrap.  “Why, what a coincidence!  I got lots of friends back where I’m going!”

“Really?” Claptrap asked, jumping and spinning around about ninety degrees which, if you didn’t know, is very impressive for a robot that clumsy.  “Lots of friends, you say?”

“Oh yes,” the bandit nodded. “If lots were a number, that’s how many friends I’d have waiting!”

“Ooh!”  Claptrap rubbed his flat little hands together, which produced the exact noise a violin makes when someone who has never played it before believes they are in fact in the beginnings of the next great concerto. “Hey, if we’re all getting our friends together, mind if I bring my friend along?  It won’t take long!  He’ll be here any minute!”

“Of course,” the bandit replied, because he did not for one second believe Claptrap had a single friend in all the universe.  Even rust seemed to be avoiding him, somehow.  Even the organic process of oxidising metal couldn’t stand Claptrap!  The bandit thought he was clever for knowing this information, which he was, but only because of the company he was with at the moment.  The company in question raised himself as high as possible, cupped his hands around the mouth he didn’t have, and hollered so loudly he disturbed a nest of rakks about two hundred kilometres away, “Mrs Fluffers!”

Yeah.  The friend definitely did not exist.

That was when the eclipse happened.

The reason I didn’t tell you there was an impending eclipse was because it didn’t make it into the weather forecast.  It hadn’t been predicted by any satellites, or meteorologists, and even the prerequisite crazy-haired man with the apocalypse sign was pretty sure the end of the world wasn’t nigh until at least next week.  And that was because it wasn’t really an eclipse.

The bandit looked toward the shadow blocking out the sun, and then he looked up.  And up.  And up farther.  So far that his jaw kind of fell open without his permission.  He honestly wished that the predicted fire and brimstone would happen right now, or at least that there really had been an unexpected eclipse, because Claptrap did have a friend.  The very worst kind of friend, in fact.

This friend was some massive, unholy beast.  It was covered head to whip-like tail in mangy orange fur, sported ears that resembled Swiss cheese, had four-foot fangs bordered by an expansive tangle of eight-foot whiskers, and eyes that were definitely being used by the soul of some hellspawn to scare the everloving shit out of him.

It worked.  Both literally and figuratively.  

Most bandits, this one included, prided themselves on being tough-as-nails badasses that would go up against a Vault Hunter with their bare hands.  A high percentage of them would even actually do that.  So when I tell you that this beast was terrifying enough to make this man turn around, hitch up his freshly soiled pants, and run screaming back to the hive of scum and villainy from whence he came, you know it was pretty darn scary.

“Oh, Mrs Fluffers,” lamented Claptrap, looking sadly at the tire tracks he’d made in the dirt, “I just don’t understand it!  Every time I bring someone to meet you, they piss themselves and run away!  They don’t even try to get to know you. Rude!”

Mrs Fluffers purred quietly, which only caused one or two minor rockslides.  Claptrap petted an area on his leg approximately the size of the cat’s toe and held his other hand up thoughtfully beneath his eye.  He had a surprisingly wide range of facial expressions given that he didn’t have a face.  “Well,” he said finally, straightening, “I guess he’s just gonna have to come to your place!”

Mrs Fluffers licked his shoulder, which would make it a good time to mention said shoulder was matted down with a thick layer of some dark, hardened substance.  Blood.  It was blood.

“Mrs Fluffers!” Claptrap shouted up in the direction of the cat’s very distant ear.  “Invite him over already, willya!?”

Mrs Fluffers gave a meow that would have only been about seventy-five decibels if anyone had been measuring (which no one was) and looked over in the direction of the fleeing bandit with mild interest. He didn’t care very much for the bandit, but he was holding something that glinted temptingly in the blazing sun…

“Finally,” groused Claptrap as the cat ambled to his feet and collected the bandit, who had not even managed to run the length of the animal.  Mrs Fluffers contained the hapless idiot inside of his teeth with remarkable gentility and turned to face his beloved master again.

“Hooray!” Claptrap shouted, jumping up and down with his arms in the air.  He actually had impressive height for someone with a suspension that old.  “Oh boy!  Mrs Fluffers, try an’ take care of him until we get back, huh?  You always wreck ‘em before Jerry gets to meet ‘em.”

“Who’s Jerry?” sobbed the bandit, whose bladder tried and failed to empty itself a second time. Claptrap spun around and continued rolling forward.  But backward. Forward but backward.  Like his life as a whole.

“Oh, you’ll like Jerry,” Claptrap said enthusiastically.  “He loves playing.  But he’s shy! So we gotta bring him people to play with!  Or we would,” and the robot paused here to fold his arms indignantly, “if Mrs Fluffers here didn’t hog all the friends.”

“I don’t want to play with Jerry!”

“Oh, you,” scoffed Claptrap, waving one hand in airy dismissal, “you haven’t even met him yet!  You really should get to meet people before you write ‘em off, y’know.”  And he hopped in an attempt to spin himself front-facing again, which he was very successful at doing.  What he was also very successful at doing was falling down.  “Gingersnaps!” he yelled into the dirt, because he was only allowed to use K-rated profanity (and even that was pushing it), and Mrs Fluffers immediately dropped the bandit, to his immense relief.  That was, until about five seconds later when he hit the ground and broke his leg in at least three places.  At least.

He was too busy screaming and staring with comically bulging eyes at the brand-new configuration his leg was now in to look over and see that Mrs Fluffers had ‘helped’ Claptrap by batting at his chassis as though he were some tiny prey to be joyfully toyed with. “Now, now,” Claptrap was saying (which the bandit also wasn’t listening to, since he was screaming so loudly).  “We have talked about this, young man!”

Mrs Fluffers proceeded to drag his tongue, the size of which rivalled a full-sized van, up Claptrap’s chassis so hard it actually stood him back up again.  It also removed an impressively-sized stripe of years-old dirt, which revealed that Claptrap had once been quite a different, but still obnoxious, shade of yellow.  “Thanks bunches!” Claptrap said.  “Now, you wanna help our – oh, crap.  You broke him!  It’s gonna be real hard for Jerry to play with him now.”

The cat retrieved the sobbing bandit and deposited him in front of Claptrap, who smacked himself in the eye with the palm of his hand solely because he didn’t have a forehead to smack.  “No!  I don’t want him!  He’s for Jerry!”

Mrs Fluffers looked expectantly down at Claptrap, bony tail sweeping the dirt in such great swaths he was probably unburying some long-forgotten skeletons.  Claptrap sighed and turned around.

“Come on,” he said, rolling onward.  “I don’t wanna hang out here all day.  There’s scary monsters around, y’know?”

Mrs Fluffers purred.

  Author’s note

hugsforvillains suggested that the cats of Pandora grow up to be vicious beasts. Usually I just said cats didn’t exist on Pandora anymore.  

One of the people I know from work came up with the name Captain Sexyboy.  For himself.  He calls himself that.

This is also on AO3 and FFN, but no linkies allowed.

[divagonzo]

Many times I’ve seen comments about how the Harry Potter cast avoided the “child star curse” and I want your opinion on that because I don’t think those kids were being treated well and I always find it shocking how everyone thinks their childhoods in the spotlight were something magically wonderful. Also, I hate how people talk about child-stars gone wrong because the aim is always to mock or attack the kid instead of realizing their behavior is a consequence of trauma and abuse.

Mornin’ Nonnie. Wow. That’s a bucketful of questions this morning.

Lemme get a huge cuppa so I can put some coherent thought into this set of questions.

RE: The Child Star Curse…. you’ve hit on the enormous Pandora’s Box here with this topic. No lie there.

Triggering mentions are in the tags for those who blacklist and don’t want to read on such things on a Sunday morning.

I’m putting all of this under the cut since this got really, really long really fast.

How did the kids avoid it where so many got lost and lost their way growing into adulthood? If you notice (I will speak of Eyebrows separately because her situation is pretty different by comparison)…. most of the main kids had a terrific support net of family at home - who could be wise to keep their kids grounded (as in feet on the ground and not under discipline/punishment). Sure they all had some mis-steps - but then I’ve never known a teenager who hasn’t made a mistake or 10 while transitioning to adulthood.

Dan? Dan had a serious drinking problem ‘til he decided to sober up (and I really commend him for taking that enormous step. It’s hard as hell to choose at such a young age that you have an addictive personality and that you can’t moderate the drinking and it’s smarter/safer to do without. (And it’s much easier to walk away at the younger age than in your late 20′s  30s 40s more when more damage has been done.)

Rupert? If anyone had been the most grounded, I’d say it’s him. His parents are top bants there, with his siblings and friends keeping him from being too much of a git. (And also being so b* smart in investing his funds early into a property owner to have his wealth but also paying his taxes, too.)

Emma? I think her situation was more fishbowl than the others because of the growing objectification of her and also how rude, lude, and crass men were treating her (including the paparazzi). I also think that she took advantage of such for her benefit to try and tame it down, and while it was mostly on point, there were moments where it was painfully obvious that she was there primarily for the male gaze. O_O She did take advantage of her privilege, with the additional benefits, but considering how much she’s been under the spotlight and constant attention of media and more, she’s done pretty well. (I won’t get into the issue of tax avoidance from the Panama Papers since I disagree with the mindset that the uber-wealthy should pay out 90% to benefit everyone else when they are already shouldering much of the social support net for those who need the assistance)

As for Tom and Bonnie and Evanna and the others? I think they have done pretty darn well for avoiding the child star curse.

But I also think the biggest part of it has been that they weren’t necessarily in the California/Hollywood scene, where it’s pretty much a free-for-all with access to anything and everything you’d want to delve into - along with the really ugly dark side of the business. (Yes, I’m tip-toeing around that issue since it’s pretty nasty.)

But how they were treated? I’m sure that the trappings of their situation made it more difficult, with constant media scrutiny and having so many people involved to have them appearing…. more appealing. While I’m sure for every one person there would be 100 who would give their toes and fingers to have that opportunity, it’s truly a Gilded Cage, of all of the pretty trappings and benefits - but with the enormous loss of privacy and anonymity.

Secondly, and more importantly, you also broach a huge issue, one that is constantly overlooked and also attracted the issue of victim-blaming. The ones who have gone off the rails, the kids who got lost along the way, were put under such scrutiny and given so much opportunity with little to no parental discipline to prevent problems, that, once again, media blame falls on the kids rather than the responsibility of the adults who should be there to support, encourage, and if need be, protect the kids.

I’m gonna say it right here in plain words: Being a teenager is Bloody Fucking hard. It’s triple hard if you are in such a position of making money hand over fist and people become blinded by the greed, attention, and privilege from what they have in those moments.  How many horror stories do you hear of where a young actor or actress gets into drugs/alcohol/pills and then crashes and burns spectacularly? For every one success story, there are dozens that crash and burn.

Is it a self-medicating of ones who aren’t necessarily neurotypical? Or is it the craving of the validation that comes from the attention and when not receiving it, needs the self-medication? Coping with trauma behind the scenes? Trauma before getting into acting and using the benefits to dull the pain?

I’ll bring up 3 in particular, just to make the point here.

One is Cory Haim. He was a young actor back in the 80s, in quite a few films, and was one of the teenage hearthrob pin-up boys. While he may have never been an A-lister as an adult (and reading up on his film credits, was probably B lister) he was an A-lister as a teenager. But there are plenty of speculation, especially by his friend Corey Feldman, of abuse when he was a teenager. (I won’t get into it because that’s rumor, speculation, and more) When he quit being cute his roles dried up to C-list roles, in straight to video shows, tv shows and voice-over work in video games.

From one of his interviews:

I was working on The Lost Boys (1987) when I smoked my first joint. But a year before that, I was starting to drink beer on the set of the film Lucas (1986). I lived in Los Angeles in the ‘80s, which was not the best place to be. I did cocaine for about a year and a half, then it led to crack. I started on the downers which were a hell of a lot better than the uppers because I was a nervous wreck. But one led to two, two led to four, four led to eight, until at the end it was about 85 a day - the doctors could not believe I was taking that much. And that was just the valium - I’m not talking about the other pills I went through. 

Did he get into drugs to dull the pain of trauma? Did he get into it out of boredom? We’ll never really know since he died back in 2010, penniless. His star burned out fast after he quit being cute/adorable/a money-maker. Was trauma involved? I sure think so (along with former child actor River Phoenix, who was also mentioned in the dark side of Hollywood, too.)

#2 is Justin Bieber. (Yes, I know. Bear with me.)

He got his break early on doing YT videos and got signed on - and took off like a rocket. But he (now that he’s older and hopefully a little wiser) now admits that he isn’t neurotypical and is pretty darn honest about his mental health struggles. (And yes, this also includes the few years before he was participating in bad boy behaviors, mistreating his girlfriends, etc.) Now? He found some stability in his life, able to admit he has problems and is getting help (and does have some support from his family including his new wife and her family.) (Let me also broach this here in plain language: Being Christian and having Grace doesn’t mean that you have zero problems from there on out. Far from it. It means that forgiveness is there with contrition. It means having a framework to work on being better.)

Will he still make mistakes? Oh sure. Being human means making mistakes. Wisdom is learning from them.

Lastly? Miley Cyrus. (Yes, I know. I’m mentioning those who are fun to laugh at. But these three are prime examples - but also with examples of coming through it all - or not.)

She’s been under the spotlight for decades, now. She’s in a show-business family. Godmother is Dolly “I love everyone and then some” Parton. And she’s one of the Disney Kids, including some spectacular failures on her part (and I’m lumping in her on/off again with her now-husband Liam.)

Did she lose her way for a while? I sure think so. But then the media spotlight x 100 made it harder, with every mistake under intense scrutiny. (This includes some questionable choices in a presentation of herself to the world. O_O)

Was she abused as one of the Disney Kids? Frankly? I think so. Disney isn’t all bright colors and silly shows and enormous paychecks. Rumours run amuck of behind the scenes abuse and mistreatment. Even having a famous father probably didn’t shield her completely from being mishandled by adults in her sphere of acknowledgment.

It’s the utter dark side of the business - that is an open opportunity for adults to take advantage of kids when they aren’t intensely protected and shielded from predator adults - straight and gay. There’s so many quiet mentions of adults abusing girls and boys in their charge - to disasterous results mostly.

But from 2 of the three here? They are examples of hope, where you can make mistakes, get lost along the way, feel the intense grip of imposter syndrome, of mediocre achievements and still succeed - and survive mistakes. They are a hope that whatever has happened, trauma and abuse wise, that you can survive it and, with serious professional help, get through it.

As I am prone to do, especially with those I mentor, is that I won’t tell you what to think - just that you do think. But if a mistake is made (or even a really p*ss poor choice made) I’ll help you survive it.

2 of the three had their family and support net available to help them survive the choices made, leading to wisdom on what not to do - how to cope/endure/survive what has happened.

These kids were probably victims of abuse and trauma, before and during their early acting careers. But 2 of the three are examples of not living a lifetime of being a victim - but a bad-fucking-ass survivor.

To those who have survived abuse and trauma as a child?

I’m gonna tell y’all who might be reading this, including my Kiddos:

It’s not your fault you were abused. Never. Full-stop.

It’s the responsibility of the ones who hurt you. They are to blame. And G_d as my witness I better never run into them. I have zero qualms burning a bitch for hurting a child.

[noexit-ff]

24.

Ant placed his hands on my shoulders “you ready for the interview now?” he said in my ear, nodding my head “one minute” I said to him, climbing up on the counter “one minute, can I have y’all attention” I shouted in the store “and ya’ll, if you can hear outside” grinning wide, I am amazed by the love I am getting for this pop up shop in LA, I might need to open an actual store “I just want to say thank you to everyone supporting me and my movement, I will be back and I will take pictures with y’all as much as I can. Y’all causing the stock to sell out but thank you, thank you, thank you so much. I just need to an interview” Cass held his hand out for me to take, I snorted laughing jumping down “I don’t need your help” laughing at him “wait here” Ant said to Sinko “the man of the hour is here Chris Brown” the guy said, Complex came out to interview me. I don’t really like doing interviews but it’s for my clothing line, I want it to do well “I’m Joe” shaking the guys hand “hello” smiling at him “Alexis” the lady said, shaking her hand “it’s so good to meet you, I owe it to Ant for getting this interview for me” sitting down in the seat “it’s all good” some guy passed me a mic, Ant walked over to me “private questions kept to a minimum, I got you” he said as I dapped him, he knows I hate interviews.

The female interviewer cannot stop staring at me “so Chris, it’s a pleasure speaking to you or even being here. I am a big fan of you and your work, you’re the hardest working artist in this industry. You do everything, I was thinking is there something you’re not good at?” I chuckled bringing the mic up “erm” I paused “nah, I am good at everything. On a real though, I just try things, if you ain’t good at it then you keep trying until you are. If I do something I am passionate about it, no matter what. I could be cooking chicken and you best believe that would be the best chicken you will eat. It’s just something I always keep in my mind, I never lower my standards and I am the way I am now. I love everything, art, sports, fashion, media. I do anything” sitting back in the chair “this is a good thing because there is a lot of people out there that do give up or don’t venture out, this is the difference about you. You see it in your clothing line, do you have all saying in it, in what happens and what gets released?” Joe asked “I have a say in it all, this whole Black Pyramid movement is mine. I am proud at what it has become, the next step is it’s own store. Also I have the thing with Puma coming up, I am in talks. I also have the Fenty-Brown Puma in New York, then also Puma Black Pyramid. The only way is up for this brand” both of the interviewers stared at me all wide eyed “so is this Fenty Brown thing, is it just you helping out or?” Alexis asked “it’s me and Rihanna designing clothing for everyone, general I will be doing men’s and she will be doing it for the ladies. It’s a big thing to be doing this, Rihanna had some say in it for it to happen and it did” I had to big up my wife “that is good to hear for you, it’s a shame Rihanna is not here?” he asked “yeah, she gone to Hawaii without me too. She told me and I couldn’t go because I am busy doing the album that is coming, very soon. Like next month soon but if Rihanna was here, she would be here with me” I had to clarify.

Pushing through the crowd with my bodyguards, waving at the fans as Cass pulled me into the SUV. The fans are crazy as shit, laughing as I shuffled into the back so the boys can get in. I miss Robyn so much, I wish she did come but she is in Hawaii and has been there for a week now. We talk every night and day on the phone but I said to Robyn to take her time with this, I spoke to Jen and she says she is ok and is relaxing, cried it out. Only thing I can do is support my wife, I want her to feel better inside. I won’t front but I can mentally rest too since she has been away, I do miss my wife. The home is lonely, I’ve had my homies over because I hate the home being so quiet. She should be coming back soon, I think she said she is meeting me in New York actually and that is in a few days. It’s not long left because I just want to have sex so much.

Hawaii is so damn beautiful, just peace. I have not answered a single call unless it’s Chris, I am just so happy and I feel good about me “you’re awake, these came for you” Jen placed roses and a small box on the table “from Chris?” I questioned, making my way to the table “yes, someone is missing his wife a lot” smiling down at the roses and picking up the card, reading the card aloud “to my shawty, I miss you so much. Christopher” I cooed out “I hope he doesn’t think any of this was easy, I miss him so much” pulling the chair back “I said one day but one day wasn’t going to do nothing, I wanted to Chris but mentally my mind was so lost. I felt like I had to keep Chris close. I still feel the urge to run to him, seeing his pictures out out there. He is on his own, I feel so bad but I feel more bad that I did what I did to him, throwing a plate” opening the box up “I am glad to see you more upbeat, those morning beach walks and meditating is working on you. How did it feel? To be with your own thoughts, just you speaking to other women that miscarried? And people that got abortions” I froze with the box in hand “a relief, to know that I am not alone in this and I wasn’t being selfish. I can’t thank you enough Jen for getting me in that, to know my secret is safe there. I didn’t want people to know but that burden has been lifted, like I am forgiven. I appreciate you did that” Jen smiled at me “I knew I wouldn’t help but women that have felt the very same pain can help” smiling a little “a lot of them lost their partners for this and I didn’t want that, I was driving myself crazy thinking I will lose Chris” shaking my head thinking. I didn’t want to lose Chris in this.

Opening the box “what did he get you?” picking out the charm for my Pandora bracelet “he got me a charm” turning the heart around “he put the date we got married” I feel so choked up “he is a romantic at heart, he cares and I am glad you have found your inner peace” swallowing back the lump in my throat “the ladies in the group treated me like a normal human, I have never felt so normal. When they said it wasn’t my fault, I cried Jen. It was ok Chris, and family saying it because they would but when I spoke on what happened, they said it’s not my fault, the miscarriage was not my fault either” I can’t wait to see my husband “you look better” placing the charm back in the box, I need to place that on my bracelet “I feel it, I am not blaming myself. I feel happier, the burden is gone. At first I thought it was Chris, he needed to clarify to me he cared but it wasn’t. That was just the icing on the cake, he didn’t fill it. It was me all that time” Jen sat across me “you are glowing my friend, happiness. I didn’t know you threw a plate at Chris, that what pushed you?” nodding my head “slipping back to my old ways” I shuddered at the thought “I am glad nobody is hurt, so can we speak on last night though” she said “what about last night?” I don’t even know what she is speaking about “I heard someone being sick, I mean it’s not been just last night. You have been sick since you have been here, you’re not ill are you?” shaking my head “I know it’s a subject that means a lot to you but these are pregnancy signs beautiful, I am glad you haven’t been drinking at all. I am not going to keep saying it to you but you are trying with Chris so you could be, don’t mind me” swallowing hard “I did assume I am but I hate getting my hopes up, I don’t want to say it to Chris either” I shrugged “ok, I get it. You don’t want to tell Chris but Robyn you need to check, you’re being sick and you and I both know those are big signs” she is not wrong at all.

I don’t know what to think “you and Chris didn’t really wait and it’s been weeks, it can take six weeks for your period to come back right?” nodding my head “it’s been longer hasn’t it? You want me to get some tests for you?” shaking my head “if I am going to use tests I want Chris to be there, I want him with me. I last time didn’t really give him a good experience, even if I am not then least I have my husband to support me, I just don’t want to get my hopes up” Jen cooed out “I get it, I think you are” smiling wide “I will be keeping it a secret for a while, my body seems to not like keeping babies. I can’t deal with having other people watching and saying things. I will be so nervous about this, I will be a mess” I know what I will be like “I want to witness this, I think you are. Not to sound like your mom, you was very ill and sleepy with the other baby right?” biting on my nail “I was constantly tired, sleeping. Not wanting to get out of bed, I won’t lie but I am sick a lot. My skin is a little bad too, out of nowhere too” Jen placed her hands together “I praying so hard for you, I want to hear. I am so nervous but excited for you, I mean all the joys is when you are trying” she is not wrong, it is fun trying “when I get back, well to New York. Chris and I need to talk and I am in the right mind to do that, I won’t mention about the test yet. I am just so happy, I feel so, I don’t know. I feel free, in my heart I just feel good. I needed to talk about it to other people that went through it, to hear their stories though. Some had still born babies, my heart fell. Imagine going through the whole thing, giving birth to the baby that died. I needed to stop being so selfish because there is other women in worse situations but I was so blind sided by mine” I keep speaking about this but to hear their stories, something I will take with me.

The boys love my home and I don’t blame them, it’s a dream motherfucking home. It has everything “imagine the house party here though Chris, think about. This whole thing opens up, like an open home. We should have one” Fresh said, shaking my head “this is a family home so no” Robyn will murder me too, turning around to walk back inside the home. I haven’t spoke to Mijo since that day, he really pissed me off. Saying shit like does Robyn throw plates at me still, was it supposed to be funny. I don’t think me and that nigga will ever be cool anymore, hearing the buzzer go off. Placing the bottle of Champagne down making my way to the secruity cameras, seeing the SUV parked to the side. Pressing the intercom “who is it?” I questioned, whoever this person is cannot get even through the gates, this shit is gated community “I have Monica Fenty in this car” the guy said, pulling a face “what” I said aloud by mistake “I mean ok” letting the security open the gate for them, what are they doing here.

I have my homies here, I didn’t really want this because Robyn is not here either. Pulling open the door seeing my family in law “Majesty is here” I smiled, she jumped at me. Picking her up “Chris Brown” she hugged my neck “it’s uncle Chris” seeing a suitcase, I am concerned “hello Chris” Monica kissed my cheek “hey Chris” Noella walked in, no Rajad or Rorrey which is good. Closing the door “so how come you both here?” Lo froze seeing Monica with a mouth full of food “Hi Rihanna’ mom” glaring at him “nigga, go away” Majesty giggled “go away” she repeated “hello young man” Monica looked at Lo up and down “I hope they paid for the food” I can’t believe the in laws are here “where is my daughter?” she asked “uh, she is in Hawaii” I said, which I am not lying about “she went Hawaii a week ago? Why is she there, are you home alone then? She said she would be back, that liar” Robyn is good at telling stories “well Robyn said to come, I am here because Rorrey has this clothing he is doing, I come to support and my daughter said to stay here” she knows I am home alone, why would she do that.

I didn’t bother to kick my friends out just yet, jogging up the stairs with my phone to my ear. Why wouldn’t Robyn tell me “hello” Robyn said down the phone “why is your mom at the crib?” I said straight up, the phone fell silent “oh” is the only thing she said “I thought she was joking, this was a while ago. I am sorry, I guess my mom can look after you?” Is Robyn being real “right, can you please come home now. I am done being here with no wife, I just feel a little lonely now” I just want her home now “I will come back now, I will get the jet ready. My mom is a pain sorry, I miss your face anyways and thank you so much for the charm. I saw your little interview too, you look so handsome” grinning wide “thank you baby, I will be waiting. I will pick you up from the airport?” I want to see her so much “yes, pick me up. I will text you when I am about to land. I love you” I am just so happy that she is coming home, thank god for Monica coming here now.

[calzona-ga]

New co-showrunner Krista Vernoff, who returned to the Shondaland drama after working as a writer for its first seven seasons, talks with THR about the ups and downs of the two-hour opener.

ABC's Grey's Anatomy returned for its 14th season Thursday, delivering a fast-paced and jam-packed two-hour premiere that featured a few key returns (on-screen and off), several nods to its past and one massive bombshell.

Kim Raver's Teddy returned to support old friend/crush Owen (Kevin McKidd) and his former POW sister Megan (Abigail Spencer), with the latter setting up a new love triangle that involved Meredith (Ellen Pompeo) and Nathan (Martin Henderson).

Owen planted a long-awaitd kiss on Teddy, who with his mother and sister, agreed that his wife Amelia (Caterina Scorsone) was just not his person. Head of neuro Amelia, meanwhile, delivered the premiere's biggest stunner — as she learned in the closing moments that she had a brain tumor.

April (Sarah Drew) realized it's time to move out of ex-husband/baby daddy Jackson's (Jesse Williams) place — despite her feelings for him — while he pursued Maggie (Kelly McCreary).

Jo (Camilla Luddington) and Alex (Justin Chambers) patched things up with her estranged and violent husband Paul (Matthew Morrison) still looming if the couple really want to get married.

Ben (Jason George) admitted to feeling a "rush" when he helped save Stephanie (Jerrika Hinton) in the season 13 finale as the series set the stage for the character to segue over to the firefighter spinoff.

After Eliza (Marika Dominczyk) ghosted her, Arizona (Jessica Capshaw) got her groove back on (again) — with Andrew's (Giacomo Gianniotti) Italian sister Carina (Stefania Spampinato), whose study about the female orgasm helped reveal Amelia's tumor.

Peppered in among all the twists and turns were several nods to the past — including multiple references to Mer's late mom Ellis (Kate Burton), nod to George (T.R. Knight), Derek (Patrick Dempsey), Callie (Sara Ramirez) and a photo of Cristina (Sandra Oh) in a medical journal. The blasts from the past — and return to its classic humor — came from Krista Vernoff (Shameless), who returned to the ABC Shondaland medical drama as the co-showrunner after helping to launch Grey's as part of its core writing staff for its first seven seasons.

Below, Vernoff opens up about season 14's eventful start and where ABC's top drama goes next.

The first two hours are really eventful. How much of that is setting the new pace of Grey's vs. setting the stage for the season to come? Setting the stage.

There were a lot of nods to the past — we see Cristina's photo and there's a reference to George. Why was it important to acknowledge the past? I'm not sure that it was important so much as it felt natural to me. I think it's a little bit like, "I'm back so they are, too!"  Also, we are doing the 300th episode this year. I think I came into the season planning to acknowledge where it all started.

Webber points out a few times how similar Meredith is to Ellis. Is that part of bringing the show back to its origins or part of looking forward to a potential Alzheimer's story? It's neither. It just felt really organic for a man who grew up with the mother of the woman he is now working with to acknowledge similarities and even be a little haunted by them. Also, Meredith has a surgical birthright that we are leaning into this season. This is the season of Meredith being something of a medical superhero — like Ellis was.  

There's a lot of humor in the first two episodes — all that was missing was a "seriously?!"Is bringing that humor back part of a larger effort to bring the show back to its roots? It's not about the roots so much as where my heart lives right now.  I'm not interested in writing darkness. I feel like the world has gone dark enough. I feel like we who are part of the resistance right now need some relief in our entertainment. I feel like it's part of my personal activism to help people sit down and laugh at night so they can get back up in the morning and fight the good fight.  

There's a parallel between Megan returning home and creating the triangle with Nathan and Meredith to when Addision returned and created the same for Derek and Meredith. Will you be exploring that more? That's interesting, and it honestly hadn't even occurred to me! No, I don't want to give away too much — but I am writing this story very differently.

Is there a potential for Abigail Spencer and Kim Raver to stick around longer — maybe series regular status — this season? If I had the budget for it I would bring them both back forever, immediately. They are incredible talents and it's a joy to write for them and to work with them.  

Amelia has a brain tumor. Talk about the decision to go that route — does that explain her behavior last season too? What's the larger story you're looking at with her? When I caught up on the show, I thought Amelia had been behaving really oddly. It got my wheels turning and this is where they landed!

Has Owen given up on his marriage to Amelia when he kisses Teddy? I believe that he has. Which is why when he learns that a brain tumor may be the answer for how Amelia's been treating him — it will be really complicated.  

How might Meredith respond to Amelia's tumor? Is there a place where she goes dark and twisty again? No, Meredith has already survived too much to return to dark and twisty. I really believe that. I believe that as people survive the unimaginable they tend to get lighter because they know now that they can survive anything — unless they go completely the opposite direction, which Meredith, happily has not!

Jo and Alex are moving forward — and Paul is coming back. Where do they go from here and what will that look like? I can't answer that without giving away too much! But I will say — for all my talk of light and hope and joy — that it wouldn't be Grey's Anatomy if there were not some dark and twisty turns here and there.  

Ben felt a "rush" from saving Stephanie. How will he lean into that and what does that mean for Bailey? Well, since it's been announced that Jason George is going to the firefighting show I think everyone can anticipate how he's leaning into that! And as you can imagine, that is an extremely complicated thing for Bailey to process. It makes for great drama and Chandra Wilson is so incredible I'm really enjoying writing it.

April is moving out of Jackson's apartment as he has interest in Maggie. Will he fight for her? April is moving out of Jackson's apartment because it is causing her pain to continue living with the man she divorced. When she thought she recognized feelings between Jackson and Maggie, she realized that living with a man you still love but are divorced from is maybe not the smartest thing to do. I feel like it's a really beautiful, grown-up move from April. I also think that there were not necessarily feelings between Maggie and Jackson last season! I think her jealousy led her to that conclusion but when she said it, she opened a kind of Pandora's box. I think it will be a lot of fun to see how it all plays out.  

Arizona and Carina are really funny together with Andrew. How will this relationship be different for Arizona? This is a season of fun! And Carina brings so much fun! Because I am anti-spoiler, that's all I'm going to give you on that!

[monstrousthingsrp]

This is the Mod Nicky’s application for Luna Lovegood. 

OOC Details

Name: Nicky

Pronouns: she/her

Activity Level: Medium: higher on weekends than during the beginning of the week due to work schedule, although I work retail so that can sometimes vary. I ought to be able to manage at least one response nearly every day however, and hopefully several on most days.

Other: I would appreciate it if people could tag references to dead or injured pets, particularly cats and those that are feline in nature (e.g. kneazles). It’s not a trigger, more of a squick; I would just prefer to have some warning if I’m going to encounter the subject. Thanks Otherwise, I am up for all the things, and the weirder the idea the better – so don’t be shy about throwing me curveballs! ! 

General IC Details

Name: Luna Pandora Lovegood (called “Loony Lovegood” by those who find her interrogation techniques unsettling; called “daddy’s girl” and similarly insulting comments by those who resent her rapid promotion and think it smacks more of nepotism than competence)

Age: 24 (born Feb 13, 1981)

Gender/Pronouns: SHE/HER – her parents raised her without a big focus on gender roles (or any other social expectations, except that she learn to question everything) and while these days Luna leans toward the female end of the spectrum, she isn’t sure she lands all the way at the end; there’s something about most witches that strikes her as more overtly gendered than how she feels when she thinks about herself. Maybe she’s just a late bloomer and hasn’t grown into “womanhood” yet – or maybe she’s fine inching a little bit closer to the middle. (demi-girl)

Desired Changes: none

Please describe the character’s education experience:

The Royal Academy of Unnatural Education, of course – where else would the daughter of two such prominent members of the Ministry of Magical Regulation have gone to school? Of course, she didn’t exactly excel there… TRAUE is very big on putting its pupils into boxes and Luna has never been a person who’s easy to box. Even just getting her to focus can be difficult, cooperative though she tries to be; she’s prone to distractions and tangents and more than one teacher probably entertained themselves with fantasies of strangling or smothering or just simply duct-tapping her mouth to shut her up while she was in their classes. Luna isn’t just the sort of girl who would ask questions at inopportune times: she was the sort to ask weird questions. And worst, the level to how much they could ignore her and her nonsensical comments was limited; after all, between running the R&D Department and heading the Interrogation Department, her parents aren’t people it’s wise to cross. So her teachers had no choice but to put up with her…and, possibly, pass her when her grades didn’t really merit it. Not because she’s stupid, because she isn���t – but she doesn’t have the kind of intellect that blossoms in the face of standardized education and regimented homework. Still, she made it through TRAUE with her nature intact (probably because she spent more time daydreaming than she did listening to her instructors) and she learned enough from her parents, and her own experimentation, that any holes left in the education that TRAUE failed to give her are easily vaulted…albeit sometimes in some truly idiosyncratic ways.

Job/Role:

It was clear from an early age that Luna was suited to follow in her parents’ footsteps, although most bets would have placed her on her mother’s experimental path rather than her father’s; anyone as idiosyncratically curious as Luna, people assumed, ought to go into a line of work where she could tear-apart and reassemble and distill and recombine and wait to see what blows up and what doesn’t. What such assumptions fail to take into account is that her father does that too, he just does it with people instead of with spells and potions. And while Luna enjoys playing around with spells and potions, people are stranger. Once you’ve performed the same experiment ten or twenty times you aren’t likely to be surprised by the minutely-differing results anymore, and that’s mostly what experimentation is: repeating the same process over and over with tiny differences to see what happens. When you’re pulling a person’s secrets apart, you don’t have to retread the same ground a dozen times in search of reproducible results. You just get to ask, and listen to the answer, and ask again – immediately.

So Luna went into the Department of Unnatural Interrogation and Information Gathering and quickly proved herself a gifted agent both in gathering information and in…well, in gathering information by taking it from other people. The program she’s in, as a journeyman agent (no longer a junior—a fast promotion for someone her age, but one based more on skill than nepotism believe it or not), she alternates between three days a week working inside the department’s offices as a questioner and analyst and two working the streets of London as an observer and listener. Of course in many ways, Luna is never really off-duty anyway. She’s a good listener by nature, good at getting people to talk about themselves and their problems and their hopes and their fears. Mostly she does this just by caring about the answers—so many people don’t; when they’re in a conversation often they’re really just waiting until it’s their turn to speak again, but Luna listens. And when just being a curious and nonjudgmental ear fails, well, there are lots of fun little techniques that the Department of Unnatural Interrogation and Information Gathering has perfected over the years for encouraging people to talk. Luna is good at those, too. It’s not that she takes any pleasure in hurting people; she just doesn’t mind doing what’s necessary in order to pursue information. All information should be free and shared freely and anyone who isn’t doing that—well, they’re doing wrong, and must be enticed to do right. Whether they want to or not.

Character Traits:

+ CURIOUS she wants to know everything and anything and treats all knowledge as worthy, regardless of social stigma or potential embarrassment; she has no qualms about either, not for herself or for others and she’ll follow a question anywhere, even into danger

+ BRAVE because what is there to fear, really? Everything that happens is a new experience, which means that everything is a learning experience. Sometimes what you learn about hurts, true – but you’re still learning something. Why be afraid of that?

+ INSIGHTFUL if she were a kinder person it might be called empathy, but while she’s good at understanding what people think and feel she just uses that understanding to learn more, and the more she understands the more precisely she can calibrate her questions…or the pain that ensures she’s going to get her answers

- CALLOUS when there’s a question she wants an answer to she’ll follow any path to get it, no matter that the cost is along the way or how much pain and suffering it causes

- DISTRACTED easily and repeatedly. Getting Luna to focus on one thing is hard not because she lacks patience but because it’s easy for a new idea to supersede the old before it’s finished

- GULLIBLE sometimes a mind can be too open and in Luna’s case, her readiness to believe anything means that sometimes she ends up treating falsehoods like facts; it’s her biggest pitfall as an interrogator, because while she’s good at getting answers she isn’t as good at weighing their worthiness because to her, all answers are good ones as long as they’re interesting

OOC Questions

List three aspects of the character or world that that caught your interest.

The fact that Luna Lovegood is evil. That was the biggest selling point on this whole idea for me, honestly – because it’s such an impossible idea. Out of all the characters in the whole series, Luna is probably the only one who is truly wholly good. Everybody else has, as Sirius might say, both good and bad inside them but while Luna has flaws to be sure – she doesn’t have a single drop of bad in her whole body. I have a tendency to invent AUs in my head just for fun, and Luna is pretty much the only character that I could never come up with a realistic way to turn evil and I never expected to find a game where she was one of the bad guys (not and have her role there be believable, anyway) but this Luna has so many traits in common with her canon version – and yet, she manages to be bad! It’s so exciting!

I also like that, unlike most twists on the blood-supremacy idea, this one does more than just reverse the idea of pure-vs-muggle-blood; it swirls the whole thing up. You’ve got pure-bloods and half-breeds on the same side because they’ve both got magical blood, and in this world that bonds people. “Purity” has nothing to do with it, but it’s not like the idea of magic-vs-nonmagical-blood has gone away; that’s what the whole premise hinges on, but in such a unique way! I like that the old biases are basically moot, but the problems that stem from those divisions aren’t; just shoved into new shapes and allegiances. I like that there are wix out there who play-up the Muggle side of their heritage “to look cooler,” but at the same time there are other wix who are so desperate to cling to magic that they’ll cling to any magic – even the kind of “impure” stuff their ancestors would have scoffed at.

Finally I really like that the premise isn’t as simple as wix-vs-muggles, or bloodsupremacists-vs-mugglelovers, or Death-Eaters-vs-Order-members, or any of the other straightforward conflicts that we’ve all enjoyed playing around with over the years. Everything’s a little more muddled here, and that’s fun. The sides that different characters are on seem more about the circumstance of their experiences than their birth; it’s all a little more open. Anyone can be a “bad guy” or a “good guy” and honestly – the lines are drawn vaguely enough that you can feasibly have “good guys” and “bad guys” on both sides. Working for the Ministry – following the expected status quo, doing your duty for queen and country, giving back to your community, etc – doesn’t necessarily make someone a villain, while fighting back as a member of the magical underground isn’t necessarily going to absolve someone of doing terrible things. It’s all twisty and nuanced and layered and I love it!

What is your dream plot?

The idea of Dark!Luna is a delight to me, so mainly my “dream plot” is just to play with that concept – to have her interact with people like Harry and Dean and Ginny and so-on in ways that are both eerily reminiscent of, and yet very very different from, their interactions in canon. She’s still the dreamy-eyed, nonjudgmental girl we know from the books…but her laid-back open-mindedness has been replaced by a (bloody) thirst for knowledge and answers. I especially want to explore what it’s like to have Luna for a friend in this world; I genuinely don’t think she really views people as enemies, even here, so much as people who are opposed to giving her information and who must thus be coerced. But they aren’t enemies. They’re just causing problems. No need to be angry at them for it; just twist that knife harder and everything will be all right!

(“Oh hi! Dean right? Yes I remember you from when my mum was experimenting on you! Gosh your tattoos look great now, did you do some of those yourself? Yes? How lovely! May I have a closer look at the one on your hand? Oh that’s very nice, yes…is something wrong? Why are looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?”)

(“Oh no Ginny, I don’t think daddy took any offense when you trashed his office. Honestly, he didn’t have it very well organized to being with; daddy’s not big on organization. I think that annoys your brother Percy a little, have you noticed? Oh, did you want this table? Yes, of course, let me just get out of the way so you can throw it through the wall, that’s fine. Now I was wondering, would you like to go and get something to eat? When you’re done with the angry destruction, I mean – no hurry.”)

(“Oh Harry, Harry wait up! That man you brought in today was very interesting. He had all sorts of things to say about the nature of magic – what? Oh no, no he was telling the truth, he isn’t a wizard at all. What? No, no I don’t think daddy is mad that you wasted department time by arresting him. He was very interesting to talk to, didn’t I say that? Especially once we burned the soles of his feet, he was very talkative then. He told me all about the pigeon surveillance network he runs and how the ravens are in the middle of a civil war over whether or not to admit smaller corvids to their congress and…oh, you’re in a hurry? Well all right, we’ll talk later…”)

I’d also be interested in seeing Luna be on the other end of the interrogation scenario at some point – because I feel like she’d be a unique case, in that keeping secrets isn’t really her thing…and neither is holding a grudge because someone hurt her (especially here, where she knows they’re just doing their job – it’s usually her job, so she understands how it goes! no hard feelings). She’d probably be unnervingly cheerful and forthcoming about the whole thing, potential torture and drugging and mind-compulsion magic and all.

For the game overall, obviously specific plots will depend foremost on which characters are taken-up and what their players are in the mood for. But since this isn’t a game that has a big endgame goal in mind (win the war! kill the dark lord! etc) it’s a good place to explore more intimate character moments and fluid interaction developments. To that end, I hope for plots involving things like: what the hell are Luna’s parents up to now, and how do the people working with them feel about x, y, and z? and what’s the line between a freedom fighter and a terrorist anyway? and if you stoop to their level aren’t you just as bad as they are? and what is the value of human rights in a two-tiered society? and is your dislike of magic really rooted in the potential threat it carries, or are you just blindly regurgitating two-thousand-year-old myths without engaging your brain? and what’s the value of an innocent bystander?

Specific plot possibilities that seem interesting: let’s break into the Ministry! and let’s stage a heist of Gringotts I mean what’s the status of Diagon Alley anyway? and full moon carnival at the Caravan what fun! and the neutral ground of a half-repaired burned-out old bombshelter is the perfect place for a meet-cute! Oh, I meant a negotiation and prisoner exchange…or did I? and salvage run to the ruins of Hogsmede, oh wait why is something in the forest moving and why is it so BIG?

[lord-of-isengard]

#1.6 Deep Dark Well

I have fallen in love a lot of times. Countless times, I have had my heart ripped out by a girl who, as you could imagine used to be way out of my league. It always felt like they ate and digested some part of me again and again. And still, I used to get up, face the world and let time to heal. As the cliché saying goes, ‘Time fucking heals everything!’ and it really did. Time healed me faster than anyone else and let me be hurt again and again. At one time, I know I used to come home a broken, defeated and lost guy every weekend and go back to school a healed man. True story! I was fucking hopeful and I idolized myself for my courage to have the guts and major big balls (which then had to be operated, as they were too big for a normal person, apparently there is this thing called big-balled syndrome also called Big-Man-Sac-disease where your balls swell up to be a size of a rather big chicken egg) to go on and ask girls out. But when I did, they used to take one good hard look at me and say ‘Ewww! Stay away from me, perv!’. Some even laughed at me, some said I was retarded and some times, and this one still haunts me, the girls used to call the guys that they were ‘dating’ to make me ‘stop bothering them with my rapey glance!’ I was a kid back then and I didn’t even know was in earth was being a pervert or having a rapey glance. It was then when I was just a fucking teenager, I realized that no one wanted to be with me. I was a fucking wall and people treated there was shit sticking on me and I seemed to disgust them. It wasn’t just a simple nope that I got, it was always superlative of no. I used to come home devastated and sometimes with minor scratches in my face (Thanks to the girl’s boyfriends) but it never let me down. Yeah, I agree I felt like shit, wanted to fucking yell at god from my terrace till my voice gave up and I wanted to ask, ‘Why always fucking me!?’ but then that would be it. I would get past it in a blink of an eye. My hands helped me heal and fast too. (If you know what I mean!) But that was my schedule, my heart used to get a beating a lot and so did my meat. Had they all considered how I was just a normal human being like them, I think I would’ve turned out in a different way. Bullies loved to bully me and girls, because of my notorious rapey glance used to tell on me. I used to get into trouble that I didn’t even have any fucking part to. Yeah, life was fucking sad man. Totally fucking sad.

But I’m thankful of whatever thrashing or heartbreak that I got, because now I get to brag about all the bad things people have done to me. I always get to win that fucking game, and why not? I had been made to walk the fire of humiliation and fucking self hatred, I should have to have something out of it, haven’t I? If all that bad things have happened to me, It seems only fair that it should be shared and fucking ruin people argument about how they have the worst life ever. It’s good to brag about some shit that had happened to you so long ago that it still fucking haunts you. For example there was this time when I saw this girl who was great. She was apparently going out with this beefy guy who was in some sort of motorcycle gang (which I came to know later). Their relationship was completely age inappropriate, but well the guy was giving it to her and she was fucking taking it, like a pro or so it seemed.  So, one time at the bar, when I had a little too much to drink, I heard myself asking her out. The guy heard it and he along with his beefy buddies came over and made sure I learned a lesson. He shoved a burning cigarette in my bare skin while the guys were rubbing their hands on my butt. I still remember the sound that cigarette made when it touched my sweaty skin. I was angry and furious and fucking helpless when the beefy guys bullied me. And the girl, fuck she didn’t do shit. I felt so fucking bad and I felt worthless. Truly, after that incident, the whole world, which seemed bright and so full of life, looked so fucking dull to me. One action can change people’s perception, and that was one for me. It killed my innocence, it managed to infect my personality at an alarming rate I could do nothing but to see me, my personal unadulterated version bleeding to death and all I could do was to see it withering in pain. Howling for help. For whole world, I was a fucking pervert with rapey glance. But they knew I wasn’t. They knew I could harm no one, but still they did all those things to break me, just for fucking fun and just because they could make fun of a ‘fat ugly retard.’ I lost myself in that transition and was becoming a fucking ghost of whatever I was in the past.

I might have made mistakes, but surely no one deserves a treatment that harsh. Was I angry, yes I was! Did I hate myself for not being able to defend the last shred of my dignity that used to be tore down off of me every day? Yes I did, but my life went on. I felt it wouldn’t but it did. There was once a moment when I thought I would stop it all, and fucking end it, but I didn’t. I always asked though, why is living peacefully so hard. Why would they term me as a pervert, I just was alone and lonely. I too longed for the affection that people gave to everyone except me! I wanted it, but I was crushed when I wanted to get something that I wanted. I fucking had a lot of obstacles and walls that tried to fucking stop me, but I learned to leap and jump. That was how I got through it all. So when people talk about their sorrows, I just listen to them politely because they don’t know what I went through when I was about the same age of their kid who they have awfully spoiled. But fuck it, nobody’s life is fucking perfect is it? Shit happens and you just have to make sure that it doesn’t stick and make you dirty, in my case, it managed to leave a big fucking scar that occasionally burns. It’s a phantom burn that reminds me how scared I am and who I will be. Now you must be wondering by now, if I have finally managed to lose my marbles. By the rate things are going on my head, I think I am fucking retarded. I am over thinking and overanalyzing stuffs that should be left alone. It’s like my fucking Pandora’s Box where all sorts of monstrosity lie, hidden and ready to pounce whenever my shields are down. My personal Elm Street where the nightmares are waiting with their heinous smiles.

That was the main reason why I changed myself. Killed rather than curing my infected personality and my own traits to fucking please people whose attention I deeply craved. I brutally murdered myself, and all the things what I stood for because of that fucking cigarette and the low hiss it made when it touched my skin. I along with that beefy guy had committed a crime, but I was to blame more than him. See, some people think getting attacked by a faceless dude with chainsaw is the worst nightmare and to some people its jizzing even before the initial contact and to some it’s a stupid past incident that manages to rule their  inner thoughts and the way they behave. My life looked darker and darker, I began to self doubt myself and I still do. I closed myself to the world and since then I haven’t been able to open up to people. I am sure the day I finally manage to open up like I was once, would be the most amazing transformation. I think I would really connect to people that time, be bold and not to feel afraid or less of a man and doubt myself, but sadly that day is not today. Today I am still a broken man, with a broken fearful heart. When I  try to persuade my heart to go out and do something, it flatly denies. It says it doesn’t want to be hurt again, and then I don’t discuss it. My heart is a fucking treacherous being, it never forgets and gets scared easily. Time had managed to help me all along the way in the past, but this time, time itself has stopped and it has left me to suffer. Left me to suffer to feel the hate brewing inside of me, the anger like a hot molten lava and I can’t do anything to cool it down. That is the death of me as I know it, I lived to love, I fell in love and now all I have is hate. And it was just because of that fucking action. That fucking simple action shattered my view on how I took life back then. Now, I feel I am deep inside a well of hatred, hatred to all the people, things and circumstance that managed to have this bad effect on me. I feel I am at the bottom, someone is closing the lid of the well and I can feel the helplessness and despair creeping in. I can feel the hotness of fury and the longing grasp of hatred. All the love and light seems to be disappearing, leaving me in this damp place. It takes one strategically shot bullet to take down any big fucking animal, and our life is the same. One event, one simple fuckup can change your life and that too for the worse. The one causing that action to happen may not even fucking realize how bigger effect it would have to the one being directly affected. And in a blink of an eye, whatever the fuck that you know or have imagined, comes crashing down. What to do then? What is it that can be done then?

Fuck that guy and fuck that girl who threw me here and be like this. I am a big boy now, I am supposed to get past it but I seem to be going around the circle. It’s like a black hole and it’s sucking me in. Deeper and deeper I go and I feel dead. Briefly, there was a time when, as alone and desperate I was, I mistook love to lust. For a romantic that got killed, when the girl came and said that she loved my look, I was completely taken aback. The world had managed to convince me that my own looks were rapey. And I believed them. So needless to say, when the girl came, I was happy. I felt special. I felt that I had finally met someone who was different. And I used to see the brief glimpse every time I saw the girl, of the past me, the carefree me and the innocent me. I thought I loved her, I really did. But I didn’t. It seems I couldn’t love anyone, because now I have stopped understanding it. I am too scared to understand it because I know, someone will come and hurt me the way the girl did. She took me, made me feel special, she taught me stuffs, she fucking made me vulnerable and she stripped me of my wall; just to fucking loot me of the tiny shred dignity that I had left. Oh how she broke me, how she pushed the dagger right through my heart to see it bleed. The girl made promises that she couldn’t keep. I was bleeding.

I will be honest with you, I want to be touched, to be warmed and to be made feel like nothing would go wrong. Because I am fed up living with the noose of fear and shame around my neck. Wish forgetting about the past would be so easy like they make us believe! How I wish, whatever wrong thing that has happened to me just stayed in the past and didn’t come to haunt me and make me feel fucking miserable. But that is a desperate plea of a desperate man and there is nothing that is to be done. The battle is long lost and the sooner you accept, the better it would it be. I say fuck to all the songs or to all the movies that gives us the impression that things could go back to how it were after a big mishap. Fuck no, the truth is they will always be there. Even if you ignore it, it’s there. Right in your peripheral vision, sitting and fucking brooding. Feeding off the darkness and the doubts that makes you question yourself. Just fucking someone to fill the deep void in your love-lost heart is making it more and more deeper and someday the doubt will throw you in and close the lid, like it has done to me.

This dark place is my home now and I don’t think I will be getting off of this place anymore soon. I look around and I see there was a ladder here but now it is beyond my reach. I jump and I try climbing, but  I cannot reach it. I am in deep.I finally understand why the ladder is there and why can’t my dirty hands reach it. I hope someone comes and saves me from this well of desperation.

Help me out from this deep dark well.

[agladman]

So here we are in early December, the run-up to Christmas firmly in our sights. Perhaps you’ve started working your way through a beer advent calendar. A seasonal selection of 12 or more often 24 beers selected to keep you sudsy throughout December – what could be more fun? From a punter’s POV these boxes can be a good way to try new beers, and ensure you have enough supplies to drink in the comfort of your home as the evenings outside become increasingly cold, dark and miserable.

Bo Selecta

Essentially you’re putting your drinking choices into someone else’s hands in the hope that they can do a better job than you, with access to better beers and all the advantages of working in the trade.

In this season awash with booze the selection has to feel special. This presents a challenge for the person putting the selection together. You want the box to feel Christmassy, but you need to keep it varied. Not many people will want to work their way through 24 dark spiced ales.

You need the big hitters in these boxes. But these big star boozy beers will be subject to huge competition at the wholesale end of things. Our fireside treats come at a cost and this must be balanced out by the inclusion of less adventurous beers. The risk is that these feel like filler tracks on a lacklustre album.

It’s a pretty common complaint in fact.

Just hook me straight up to the brewery!

You can get advent calendars directly from breweries. To me this misses the point. You’ll be drinking a limited offering in a format designed to feature variety and exploration. Why do it?

Just look at this 2017 offering from Beavertown. Maybe it floats your boat. Maybe you just can’t get enough of those skully beers. For me, I have to say, it just looks dead boring.

Click to embiggen

Opening Pandora’s box

What I’m not going to do here is bring you a round up of all the beer advent calendars out there. For one thing, it’s already been done pretty well elsewhere. For example, Chris Martin has put together a nice round-up over on his blog Alcohol By Volume. And over on Google Drive, this spreadsheet gives good details of what was in some calendars from 2016 and 2017.

Side note: if you want to consider advent calendars based on other boozes, check out this article in the Independent.

Instead let’s explore all of these issues in microcosm by examining one of the big boys on the advent calendar scene, Honest Brew.

Honest Brew have decided to package this selection as an actual advent calendar. This looks like a nice idea in the marketing photo but think about your actual house for a moment, and now think about your actual house with that box in it. Where are you going to put it? I don’t know, perhaps you have a bigger house than me. I’d have a hard time finding room to keep this box out on display.

Now consider that some of those beers will want chilling. There’s no indication which though, because each beer is hidden away behind it’s little door. You can’t put the whole thing in the fridge. So what to do? Open the door in the morning just in case you need to chill your beer for later? Open the door in the evening and make do with a quick – and therefore subpar – half hour in the freezer to cool it down? Or just drink the beer warm? Perhaps you’ve got a chilly shed or garage where you can store this, in which case that might do. But for the rest of us this presents a bit of a challenge. And yet Honest Brew use the fact that it’s stored cold at their end as a selling point… Someone somewhere hasn’t thought this all the way through.

  I’m not saying all this to pick on Honest Brew in particular. I’m sure the same things will be true of lots of advent calendars out there. These are just the limitations of the format.

Now let’s move on to the contents. I’m not going to give you all the details – google exists, people – but having glanced over them myself here are a couple of thoughts.

For the base offering, close to £70 will get you what looks to be a decent mix of breweries and styles. Some of the names that catch my eye here are Azimut and Popihn (both from France), the Garden Brewery (Croatia), Edge (Spain), and from the UK Burning Sky, Buxton and Cloudwater.

Or you could splash out £140 on the Ultimate Advent Calendar. This will bring you beers from plenty of interesting breweries. I’d have my eye on the ones from Verdant, Lervig (Norway), CR/AK (Italy), Stillwater (USA), Puhaste (Estonia), Schneider Weisse (Germany) and from the UK Verdant, Wander Beyond and Wylam. The box also promises “1 more big name to be revealed”. Are you excited now? Hm. Me either.

But to be fair, the list of styles in there looks good too. Among others you can expect a blueberry sour, a brut IPA (come on, it’s 2018 after all), a doppelbock (Schneider Weiss no doubt), a mixed fermentation sour, and a salted caramel wee heavy – how excellent does that sound? You will also get some bourbon barrel aged stouts; in particular two imperial versions, one cinnamon and one raspberry. I’d put money on at least one of these being from Lervig.

Before you get too excited, just remember this little caveat.

Beers subject to change due to: beer availability, mini tornadoes, a light flurry of snow or power outages.

Not everyone has been thrilled by their past offerings either.

To add context, here are details of their past offerings.

Honest Brew’s 2016 base box

Honest Brew’s 2017 base and ultimate boxes

These look pretty decent. I’m medium-whelmed by last year’s base level box. The ultimate one looks better – really quite good in fact. But the price is a bit steep. For comparison, here’s the same year’s offering from Hop Burns & Black, which I feel measures up pretty well against it for about £35 less. (They’re doing one again this year but if you haven’t ordered already then you’re out of luck – they’re all sold out.)

Click to embiggen

How to do better

One way is to stop outsourcing your drinking decisions. If you buy your own you can be sure you’ll like it. And if you have an understanding friend or partner you can even keep a little element of surprise.

And certainly there’s scope for some enterprising person to make these selections really special.

To give Honest Brew some credit, this does seem to be a direction they’ve headed in this year. As I noted above, there are some interesting looking foreign breweries listed in both their basic and their premium selections. Fair play.

Boxes like this represent extra work for bottle shops: putting the selection together, the associated sales effort, the packing and shipping. Margins on these boxes can end up tighter than you’d think – all the beers ordered in on top of the usual inventory might necessitate hiring extra storage space or employing some extra hands to get the boxes out on time.

So why do shops do it? The sales are obviously important – no one would do it if they couldn’t expect to make at least a small profit out of it. But there are other intangible benefits too. Reaching new customers, for instance. Or raising their profile generally. For those who’ve done calendars in past years, it can become a case of maintaining their position within the marketplace.

Pressure to drink

I’ve saved this until last. It’s the most common complaint about these beery advent calendars, and the reason I generally don’t bother with them myself. As I’ve already mentioned, this end of the year is pretty awash with booze already. There are office parties. There’s catching up with mates you haven’t seen for longer than you’d like. There’s a general culture of indulgence and partying and getting through the bleakness of a northern European winter using self medication. It’s not like we need any more pressure to drink. In this context, taking delivery of a hefty whack of beer with the expectation that you’ll get through one a day might not be the best idea.

Your turn

Have you had a beer advent calendar before? If so, which one and what did you think of it? Tell me in the comments below.

NEW ON THE BLOG Unpacking beery advent calendars. Have you just started working through one of these? Here are some thoughts on these seasonal selections. So here we are in early December, the run-up to Christmas firmly in our sights. Perhaps you've started working your way through a beer advent calendar.