#I really want to draw Maryann again

[ornitharts]

[suicidalslasher]

forever & always. ➤ tom. h.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!!! I couldn’t contain myself and or stop myself from writing about my favorite Valentine’s day killer. So, here you go :)

WARNING: descriptions of gore and blood. in this one-shot, the reader’s pronouns are she&her.  i might make a part two of this, depending on how well it does. maybe not. i like how it ends, regardless. either way. enjoy.

The news spread like wildfire. No matter which way you went, there was always a flame, reaching out towards those to burn. Try as you may, you can't get away. The words that littered the air was nothing more than burnt ashes fluttering around, burning each object as it flies above said thing or said person. In this case, the people of a small town called Valentine Bluffs were the ones burning from the inside and out. They felt trapped within the smoke, unable to seek out which way to escape the dangers that had followed.   The terror; the trauma; the panic and anxiety attacks; All of it - they thought it was long gone.... they were finally going back to being normal, how things used to be. 

They were going back to a life that wasn't full of fear, having to look behind your shoulder constantly and being careful of who you trust. It was all going to be okay, happy once more. They'd finally be able to celebrate their favorite day once again.  But... as you may have guessed, it's not quite  easy to put out a rapid wildfire. All it takes is a small fire to expand out into something bigger, bolder, and scarier. You can't escape the flames. No matter how big or small. You cannot ignore the overwhelming burning sensation that  glazes across your skin as the fire around you grows larger, making you feel smaller and smaller by the second.  The words, however, the statement that was fluttering around like specks of ash,  wasn't at all a sentence (nor an actual fire)  but a name - Harry Warden.  1997. Valentine's day. Everybody, in & out of town, knows what happened.  For a brief period of time there, nobody celebrated Valentine's day, having thought it out to be cursed.  Yet, as time went on, there was no sign of Harry Warden. No copy cat killer version of him, neither. So, the people went back to celebrating. Writing hand written love letters,  buying cheaply made cards at the local supermarket, buying and or receiving overly priced chocolates. Anything, everything, people did it with  love in their hearts and a smile on their face.  Today was Valentine's Day, once more. Expect it wasn't the way it had been for the past 9 years. It was exactly like the day in 1997. History was repeating itself.  Instead of love, presents, and reserved dinner dates being celebrated and shared, the town of Valentine Bluffs  got decomposed, rotting corpses,  instead. Blood scattered outside and inside of buildings. 

  It was worse than before, more bodies were showing up without their hearts and the missing body piece would be found neatly placed in between a plastic heart shaped box. All of which would be sent to the police station as a joke, as  a threat.  Even a card would be taped on top or under the container, though the sentences were far from cheerful and loveable.  A few of them had been thrown aside, only having been read once. Those who opened it and read it aloud usually found themselves cringing in dismay  as they read the paragraph out loud all while  shifting around in their seat, uncomfortably.  

Once they read it, they shook their heads as tears welled up in their eyes before they threw it into the trash bin or ripped it into hundreds of tiny pieces, not daring to open another letter that's brought in. Evidence or not, the workers couldn't keep their breakfast or lunch down when they'd read the cards.  The recent two cards had said;  From the heart comes a warning, filled with bloody good cheer, remember what happened as the 14th draws near!  And the last victim, a girl named Maryanne Anderson, had gotten a card right before she was found dead, her body laying in a ditch to rot.  Her card had read; Roses are red, violets are blue, one is dead, and so are you.  Nobody knew who the new killer was, or if it even was a new killer, copying Harry's schemes and following in his footsteps.  It could have very well been  the same man all those years ago. That's what they were saying.   (Y/N) (L/N) was in her car, driving back home from work when her favorite song had been replaced with an alarm, cutting off her favorite part. "Oh, c'mon!" She groaned, hands hitting the steering wheel in annoyance  before she goes to turn up the volume anyways, wondering what's so important that the town and the police station had to turn off her favorite song. 

She knew about the murders, she knew there was a serial killer around, she already knew this already. And yes, she was petrified, as most people were. When the first body showed up, the mayor of town announced there'd be a curfew until they found out who is doing all of this. Whether it was one person or more, they'd find a way to capture the killer. No matter what. There was not going to be another murder.

 (Of course, there was more.) 

 (The original curfew was getting home at 9:30. Now, it had gone down and you'd have to be indoors, at your house, by 6:30 PM.)  Students in school would get out earlier, as well as the adults in town. The only ones who didn't get to go home so early in the day were those who were trying to protect the people of Valentine Bluffs.  "We are sorry to interrupt that song there," came the  radio host's deep and groggy voice. "However, this is more important than your favorite throwback jams. I've gotten an officer here with me, he had just shown up not even a second ago to tell us more news on the situation we are currently in. So, please, listen carefully."  "Yeah, whatever. I already know what's going on. Tell me something I don't know." (Y/N)  turns off the radio as she pulls up in her driveway, feeling a sense of comfort clouding over her, another day, she's okay; safe and sound, unlike a few of her old high school friends that were gutted like fish and butchered like pigs. 

She shivers at both the bitter and harsh wind brushing against her  as she steps out of her vehicle and the obvious visual of whatever masked man (or men) that's around, killing innocent people for whatever given reason.  Hurrying along the steps to her porch, she digs her keys out of her jacket pocket, finding them within seconds before she's pushing them into the door as quickly as she could. She didn't show it, tried not to show it, but she was as anxious and paranoid as everyone else was. 

(Y/N) was  trying to hold back her fear but the moment she gets home, locking all the doors and windows, the uneasy feelings creep up on her and every negative emotion takes charge.     With a sigh, she falls down onto the couch with a plop, reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV, attempting to try and get her mind off of things.  Of course, every station wasn't what she wanted to watch, the news replacing every channel.  She skipped and skipped but it all remained the exact same. With a groan, she decides to listen to what they were saying, even though she really didn't want to hear it as it'd only make her anxiety worse.  "I am Jonathan Godfrey. We're sorry to interrupt your daily scheduled programs, however, a man you may know as Tom Hanniger has escaped from his stay from a mental hospital."  (Y/N)'s eyes nearly budge out of her head at the mention of the man's name,  the remote she had in the palm of her hand goes flying, falling down onto the ground by her feet. Tom? Mental hospital? It didn't make any sense! Everyone... including her, thought he was dead! She, with shaky fingers, grabs the remote to turn the volume up.   Jonathan's own eyes were wide as he read the teleprompter, his voice now grew shaky as he spoke. Fear was written across both his and his co-worker’s face. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more information or news as to where he's escaped off to. Or where he may be as of the moment. All the reports, every last piece of information we have been received  has said he's been missing since two days ago.  He can be anywhere.  More importantly, he can be here, hiding out." His voice trembled as he spoke, it was also very faint - almost ghostly. Quiet as a mouse. His skin was pale, making it appear as if he was a ghost rather than a living person that sat in the chair there.  

 Jonathan couldn't continue, this much was obvious, therefore his co-host, Abigail Miller, continued where he had left off.    "This being said, please, lock the doors and windows of your home. If you have a weapon to guard your own life and protect your ground, get it out now. Please, protect yourself the very best you can. And do not, I repeat, do not answer the door. Do not leave your home whatsoever. Whatever is outside of your house is surely not more important than your life.  

“Whether it is Tom that has been doing this or not, we're not exactly sure. All we tell you is to be careful and remain indoors until we can find Tom and or find the Valentine's killer. This has been Jonathan Godfrey and Abigail Miller, with the news. Stay safe and God bless." The program that was previously playing showed up finally, the neon colors swirling together to form the title of the show, along with a fairly way too cheerful theme song playing faintly in the distance as the introduction played out. (Y/N) had never heard of it before, but from a quick glance, it appeared to be a sitcom from the late 70's.  The only source of light was coming from the television screen, casting colorful shadows across (Y/N)'s face. She had felt too tired to have turned on the lights upon entering her house. Work was short, the hours having grown thinner because of the curfew, however, it was still tiring all the same.  She instantly regretted not doing so now, however. 

She sat in the dark, her heart thumping loudly against her chest as she pulled a near by blanket around her shoulders as if the thick fabric would comfort her and protect her. The room had gotten colder ever since the report was announced. Goosebumps ran up and down (Y/N)'s body, the baby hairs on her neck stood on end as a shiver slid up and down her spine. Despite the blanket being around her body, she felt nothing but cold, numb. Suddenly, the TV went out with a soft 'ping'.    (Y/N) gasped and her heart stopped beating all together.  She felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't tell if she was going crazy either when she heard what sounded like  footsteps coming down from the hallway. She sat, frozen, on her couch, unable to move, unable to breathe.  Then.... a knock. Followed by another and another. It was right outside, coming from not the front entrance but the back yard. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), please..." came the voice.  ​​​​​​​And (Y/N) recognized that voice anywhere.  She knows she shouldn't.... everybody said not to but... she couldn't help herself.  Getting up as quickly as she could, she runs down the hallway, the sounds of her feet echoing against the thin walls as she reaches the door, tugging it open.   There, on the other half of the door, stood nobody other than Tom Hanniger himself.   He looked up, surprised she had answered the door.  Giving her a weak, lopsided smile,  Tom's pulling her into a tight hug, his head falling down in the crook between her shoulder and neck, tears flooding his eyes as he soaks her shirt, silently weeping. "(Y/N).... fuck, I've missed you so much, missed you so bad." Tom confesses with a sniffle.  "Tom... I- what're you doing here? They're looking for you, you know this, right? Everybody's looking for you. And.... and I- fuck, Tom! I thought you were dead. Everybody in town thought you died the day your father did." (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hide her true feelings. She was a mixture of emotions. Angry, happy, sad, scared - she was feeling every single emotion there possibly was. "I know... I know. I-I have a lot to explain and a lot to tell you but please, right now, can we just- can we just play pretend?" He asked, moving away from her shoulder as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes remained watery and his skin was flushed as he looked up at (Y/N).  (Y/N) guessed it was a mixture of three things - running away from the mental hospital to where her house was to  the bitter and harsh February air. Plus, the crying he had just done, too. His face was red and blotchy from all three. Despite it being so cold, sweat trickled his face, a few drips of it falling along side his cheeks. "Play pretend?" (Y/N) echoed, tilting her head to the side, unsure of what he meant.  "Let's play pretend." He repeated, licking his lips. "Let's play pretend and imagine none of this horrid, crazed shit is going on right now. Let's pretend it's only me and you. It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Let's celebrate. After all, it was one of our favorite days to spend together."  Heat rose to (Y/N)'s cheeks and she bit on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on the bottom of her feet.  "Tom.... I-I'm...You want-" She couldn't from sentences, her thoughts were mushing together and it was all too much for her to handle. She felt like she was going to pass out. "I want you, (Y/N). I want you as bad as I did then and I want you just as badly right  now. There has never been a day where I wasn't thinking about you. You were the love of my life. I still love you, maybe even more, now. Let's celebrate, please. We can talk about everything tomorrow morning. I promise I'll tell you everything.  Right now, let's play pretend, let's act like it's just us again, like when we were teens.... I've missed you. And.... and I know you've missed me too or else you wouldn't have opened the door." And, yeah, okay, he was right.  "Tom..."  "(Y/N)." He stepped closer to her, closer than he had done before, as he rests his hand against her cheek, fingers brushing against her skin as he looked into her (E/C) eyes.  "I love you. I never stopped. And I know you love me, too.... so, please, baby girl.... can I just show you how much I love you?" (Y/N) shouldn't have answered the door. She should have called the cops when she heard his voice. Everything was too much of a  coincidence. 

Her power was working perfectly fine until Tom had shown up. 

Now that she was thinking about it.... 

There was also no victims until she had heard the news Tom had left the asylum. Three days ago.... 

Three days ago, there was the first victim; Maryanne.  If she thought too much about it, got too deep into the rabbit hole, she would have assumed Tom Hanniger was the Valentine's killer - The Miner.  Yet... looking at Tom, she knew he wasn't - couldn't - be the killer. If he was, he would've killed her too, right? Tom Hanniger's been through too much, and just like she was there before, she was going to be there for him now. Through Hell and back.  

She would stay by his side, no matter what. She still kept the old promise ring he had given her in high school, along with the note in which he confessed his feelings. In which, he told her - one day - he'd marry her. She was the perfect girl for him, as he was the perfect man for her.  A promise is a promise. When she said 'forever and always', she meant that. (Y/N) knew Tom meant it, too.  "I love you too."   Tom's quick to place his lips on (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) is quick to kiss him back just as hungry, just as fierce. She tangles  her fingers through her hair and pulls on it, earning a groan from Tom. Satisfied with the result, she tugs him into her house by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming the door shut with her foot. 

"I've missed you, baby." He says, not daring to pull away from the kiss.

"Show me how much you've missed me then, baby." She mumbles against his lips. "Oh, I'm going to."  "Let's go celebrate Valentine's day the right way then. Come on, let's go upstairs."   Tom grins and  (Y/N) smiles back before she's pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

Forever and Always. It was them until the end. Nobody would ever separate the two of them, again.... not even Harry Warden was going to destroy Tom’s happiness... not this time.

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Pretty Little Secret (Pt.2)

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Virgil had merely waited at home for the rest of the day, dreading the moment he'd hear his parents footsteps. And of course, that moment came all to soon.

"Oh Virgil look at you! Finally dressed yourself nicely! I'll have to give a raise to whichever servant picked that outfit out," Virgil's mother exclaimed. It seemed like all his parents wanted to talk about was looks, despite being fully aware that he was unable to enjoy such leisure.

"That dog of yours needs a bath, honestly you two never leave the house and yet its like every day she's dirtier than the last," Virgil's father commented, Merida let out a soft bark.

"She likes to help the servants in the gardens sometimes," Virgil replied, biting his lip slightly.

"Well there'll be no more of that soon enough, it was decided at the meeting today that we've got about two months before our expedition, and we plan on marrying you off before we leave," Virgil's mother said plainly, Virgil froze.

"Marriage? But I don't want a husband!" he said, Merida rushed to his side, pressing head onto his stomach and pushing him onto the couch behind him.

"Oh don't be ridiculous Virgil you're much to fragile to be living on your own, and we can't keep you here forever!" Virgil's mother continued to speak as if she hadn't just stabbed Virgil in the gut.

"I can handle myself! I've got Merida if I need help! And the servants! Unlike you I actually talk to them!" Virgil exclaimed, the icy feeling in his chest rising.

"Virgil can you just do this for us? Please? It won't be very hard, you're a very handsome young man and I'm sure we'll be able to find you a suitable husband," but Virgil wasn't listening, he'd grabbed Merida's leash and raced upstairs, slamming the door behind him. For eighteen years Virgil had been trapped in this room, only able to escape when his family was gone, and now they wanted him to marry a man who would probably lock him away again. Virgil's mind ran wild with scenarios where he and Merida were torn away from one another, where the only eyes he had were a husband who thought of him as nothing more than a pretty object to lean against his arm. He thought of suitors with no idea of his condition spitting in his face or insulting or degrading him because despite actually being able to they weren't willing to look past their own ideas of usefulness to see what he was really like.

Virgil was glad his parents rarely came upstairs, it made it much easier for him to flee with Merida through the window. He hoisted a large bag over his shoulder and held tightly onto his guide's leash, following her lead into the woods they'd been so fond of when he was a child.

And then he started to think of Remus. Of how disappointed he'd be when he heard Virgil had run away. Would he blame himself? What if he ran away as well? Would that make Virgil responsible if the kingdom lost one of the crown princes? Virgil pushed the thoughts out of his head, he only had one thing to focus on right then and that was escaping.

The woods were much colder than Virgil had remembered, though he supposed that could have been because of nightfall. He just kept his head up and kept himself in close proximity to Merida. They kept walking for hours. . .

And hours. . .

And hours. . .

Until Merida suddenly stopped, Virgil heard her emit a sound that was most definitely a growl. He heard footsteps, and felt Merida tug her leash in a specific direction.  Virgil merely followed her lead, to afraid to do anything else.

"Did you hear something Jan?" a soft voice whispered through the woods, concerned, sounding almost parental in nature.

"I think I may have dearest angel, but it might as well have been the wind, you know how these old woods are sometimes," said another voice, this one sophisticated, if not sly. Virgil held his breath and tried to stay as still as possible.

"But it sounded like human footsteps! I don't want anyone out here alone! Can we at least look?" the first voice spoke up again.

"Very well dearest, I'll try," and the forest filled with song. Virgil had heard stories of creatures in the woods who could steal away mortals with just their voices, depending on the age or gender of the mortals, the reasons for such songs often varied. But the song Virgil heard now, the idea of a family that would treat him like a human being, that would accommodate him, rather than the reverse, that was something that nearly made him burst into tears on the spot. He felt Merida give a little tug on her leash, he didn't even question following her.

But then the music stopped, and Virgil was faced with the realization that he was now out in the open, with what he could only assume were magical creatures.

"Janus look!" the person who'd spoken first seemed to have noticed Virgil's sudden appearence in the woods. Within ten seconds he heard foosteps rushing towards him and insticntly threw his hands out to force them away.

"Patton- wait- he has a service dog," the man who Virgil now assumed to be Janus had stopped what sounded like a few feet away. It was quite for a while, and this wasn't helping the situation very much.

"I'm blind," Virgil finally said, still feeling like he had rocks in his stomach.

"Well then you certainly shouldn't be out here alone! Even with your furry friend there it's much to dangerous here at night!" Patton said.

"Do you want to walk yourself or do you want one of us to guide you? You can spend the night with us," Janus said. Virgil thought for a moment, he could risk getting hurt in woods he hadn't been in since he was seven, much less at night, or he could go home with these people who seemed to recognize his difference without being annoyed by it.

"I'll need a guide," Virgil said plainly. He felt a large hand take hold of his own, he followed the men, the worry clouding his head dissipating with every step.

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[giant-sketches]

First off I’d like to start off apologizing to all Logan fans for the last time I drew him. I forgot to add his tie and I hadn’t completely decided on how to draw his hair so sorry about that. Now I have a clearer idea of what I want him to look like in my style so I hope that makes up for my past mistake.

Recently I had a few people ask if there were going to be any moments of Virgil and Logan interacting besides the testing and I’m happy to present it to you all now! I hope you enjoy this latest installment and look forward to the next where we’ll be seeing just what Remus has planned for Roman.

Disclaimer: Moments described in this narrative depict actual symptoms and treatment of anxiety/panic attacks. You have been warned!

Logan: “Virgil! Virgil! I need you to wake up and tell me what happened. Where’s Roman?”

- Slowly Virgil turned his face upwards as his eyes struggled to focus on a concerned Logan. He was still at an enlarged size, but for some reason he was lying flat on the ground. He tried to think back to why, but all that came to mind was a blackened haze and the faint sound of screaming. Virgil’s ears ringed as he began rising to better look at Logan.

Logan: “Virgil, are you alright? You seem disoriented and may be suffering from a possible concussion. Can you tell me anything as to why you’re currently in this state?”

Virgil: “I-I’m not sure. My head’s all fu-fuzzy.”

- Once Virgil was back up and resting on his knees he took a moment to collect himself. Whatever had just happened knocked the wind out of him and he was sore all over.

Logan: “Listen, I don’t mean to rush you but I need to know where Roman is.”

Virgil: “What do you mean? Roman’s right….here?”

- Virgil went completely white as he frantically looked around him for Roman. He tried to call out, but his throat tightened. In a flash the memories were flooding back in intense waves. Suddenly, his heart started pounding and he collapsed forward in pain. Feelings of nausea overwhelmed him as he began to shake vigorously. Virgil was experiencing an anxiety attack as his body began to remember the pressure of Remus’s boot suffocating him underneath it. His mind was filled with the screams of Roman pleading for Virgil to help him. Then only darkness remained as he had lost consciousness.

Logan: “Virgil I need you to look at me.”

Virgil: “I can’t, I-”

Logan: “Yes you can, now look at me. Focus on my voice and turn towards me.”

Virgil: “I-I’ll try.”

- Meekly, Virgil looked up at Logan. He had his arms outstretched and was walking towards him. As he rested his hands on Virgil’s face he smiled and spoke again.

Logan: “Good, now I need you to keep looking only at me and breath deeply. In and out, in and out, keep it up.”

- Virgil did as he was told. He could feel the tightness around his chest begin to fade, but he continued to shake. His eyes filled with tears as he kept thinking back to the moment Roman was snatched from his arms and how he was unable to save Roman. He closed his eyes in frustration.

Logan: “Virgil! Don’t stop now. Remember you’re safe, you have nothing to fear here. I’m here for you know.”

Virgil: “I-I couldn’t save him Logan. It was all so su-sudden and even though I had the ability to do something...I couldn’t muster any strength. Be-because of me Ro-Ro-Roman’s gone!”

Logan: “This is not your fault, none of this is your fault. You are currently experiencing an anxiety attack so your mind and body is responding to past fear and trauma. What you need to do now is look at me and continue breathing deeply in order to calm yourself down.”

Virgil: “I-I lost him Logan! Don’t you understand that, it was because of me that Remus found us and took him. How can I calm down when who knows what he might be doing to him right now?”

Logan: “We will rescue him, all of us together, I promise.”

Virgil: “What can I even do to help when I’m like this?”

Logan: “You can get bigger.”

Virgil: “What?”

- Virgil snapped his eyes open again at Logan’s shocking remark. Did he just tell Virgil to get bigger in his current state? Was that supposed to be some kind of joke...no Logan didn’t really tell jokes, especially in serious situations like this. Does that mean he was being serious?

Virgil: “You can’t b-be serious! Right now I can barely control my emotions, let alone my size.”

Logan: “That’s exactly why I suggested you get bigger. Your growth is tied to your emotions and if you were to get bigger it would be equivalent to letting off steam. That’s why it feels so good for you to grow, it’s similar to relaxation techniques.”

Virgil: “Are you serious?”

Logan: “Always.”

- Still doubtful Virgil, decided to trust in Logan’s words and closed his eyes in order to concentrate. He breathed in and then out as he started to expand cautiously. As he kept on he really did feel all his anxieties soften as his heart rate slowed and the nausea disappeared. Gradually, Virgil lifted his torso back up and un-clenched his chest as the pain had subsided. He opened his eyes and lowered his gaze down towards a now much smaller looking Logan.

Logan: “How do you feel now?”

Virgil: “I feel a lot better, thank you.”

Logan: “You’re quite welcome, however I suggest you grow a bit more.”

Virgil: “I’m like 25 feet tall, why do I need to get bigger?”

Logan: “Now that you’ve calmed down we need to begin our rescue operation of Roman. At this moment Remus is still within this side of the realm, but Patton is still at the fort.”

Virgil: “Patton didn’t come with you?”

Logan: “That is correct. He turned in early for the night after he tired himself out at the welcome party.”

Virgil: “So then you decided to come out here on your own? Why not try to wake up Patton first and come together?”

Logan: “I had no inclination to assume that something of this magnitude had occurred and I felt it best not to interrupt Patton’s sleep cycle if there was no present urgency. As it was getting late, I began scanning the area for your footprints and eventually came across you collapsed on the ground and Roman nowhere to be found.”

Virgil: “Yeah, Remus appeared all of a sudden from behind the trees and ambushed us. He grabbed Roman right out of my arms as he was sleeping and pinned me to the ground by  smashing his boot on top of me before I could react. I think because of how sudden it was I wasn’t able to stay awake and passed out soon after.”

Logan: “I hope you understand that with such an attack there was nothing you could do.”

Virgil: “I understand, it….still sucks though. If I hadn’t grown so much, he may have never spotted us.”

Logan: “Is that really how he found you?”

Virgil: “What do you mean? How else would he have found us?”

Logan: “I can’t be sure yet, but can you remember anything he may have said to you before passing out?”

Virgil: “I’m not sure…”

- Virgil closed his eyes and thought for a moment. It all happened so fast and all he could focus on was Roman’s screams, but in the background he could faintly hear Remus laughing. As Virgil focused on that, Remus’s face surfaced from the darkness and he could see his mouth forming words. What was he saying? Virgil blocked out anything else besides Remus and zoomed in on his mouth. Instantly, Virgil flung his eyes open and shouted,

Virgil: “HE CALLED ME SMALL!”

Logan: “Excuse me?”

Virgil: “I remembered! Remus was laughing and said it was funny how I had gotten smaller since the last time he saw me. Doesn’t that mean he didn’t see me when I was in the valley?”

Logan: “It would appear so.”

Virgil: “Th-then how did he find us?”

Logan: “It was both of your deodorant.”

Virgil: “You’re kidding right?”

Logan: “I wish I was, but no. Remus has always enjoyed the smell and...taste of deodorant and is able to locate people based on the kind they use.”

Virgil: “That’s so messed up.”

Logan: “Indeed. Nonetheless, now you know that this incident wasn’t your fault in the slightest.”

Virgil: “You’re right. I feel a lot better now. Thank you again.”

Logan: “Glad to hear it, now I still need you to grow bigger so we can make it back to the fort hastily and pick up Patton.”

Virgil: “You got it!”

- With that Virgil jumped from 25 feet to 50 feet in a matter of seconds and reached down to scoop up Logan as he got to his feet. Virgil placed Logan on his shoulder gingerly and wiped away his remaining tears.

Virgil: “You ready.”

Logan: “Let’s go!”

- With that Virgil and Logan marched back to the fort to retrieve Patton and tell him what had happened. As they regrouped they set their sights on the caves Remus was known to hideout in and prayed Roman was still okay. However, he was far from it.

To be continued.

@gentlegiantdreamer @paranoidgurl @crystalk17 @suckedinfandoms @pattonvirglsanders @enby-phoenix @sanders-sides-virgil @just-some-gt-trash @notkolaidoscop @bluegreeninbtwn @lgbtqiaemo @avenirunknown @rainbowbowtie @ncanspeak @maryann-draws @himeperson @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare @daydreamburritoworld

Gosh this tag list has gotten quick big...I hope I got everyone. Please do keep asking to be added if you’d like or check the tag mass emotions ts for all the posts related to the story thus far. Thank you again for reading!

[mycatshuman]

I Against Me

Past Platonic Anxciet

Warnings: angst, just a whole lot of angst.

Didn't proof read so here you go.

"Tell me why you're holding me back

Tryna push me off the right track

And I'm wishing so bad you would leave me alone

Why you're blurring out my vision

So I'd go make the wrong decision

But I know that you'll never be gone"

---------

Virgil and Janus used to be good friends. Really good friends. The kind of friends who would do anything for each other. But their friendship grew to be unhealthy. Toxic even. And when Janus "Self-Care" Sanders asked Virgil if he could find any reason why they should continue to be friends, Virgil realized, then more than ever, that he had to let go. He loved Janus. He was one of the best friends he had ever had. And in the words of Brendon Urie: "If you love me let me go-" Virgil let Janus go. 

That didn't make it hurt any less. 

---------

"I'm blaming you that I've been cruel and mean to all my friends

Cuz I've become so rude and now another friendship ends

But now I started seeing clearer

I saw your face up in the mirror

Yes I'm the one to blame"

--------

Virgil shattered. 

He knew it was his fault. Who else could have caused this. Janus was big on self-care. If he had issues, he went to see a therapist, but Virgil,  oh Virgil, he wouldn't. Dare he say he couldn't? Therapy cost money, money that he couldn't really spare. 

But he could have done better. He could have listened to Janus when he told him to get help. But he didn't. Why exactly, he didn't know. Stubborn? Lazy? Most likely. But he did try to keep his problems from Janus. Keep them tight to his chest. He couldn't burden others with his issues. He should have known better. 

--------

"That's why I bang my head against the wall

Cuz I don't like myself at all

Wish that I could cut all the ties

And now my life is such a tragedy

Cuz I'm my biggest enemy

I can't look myself in the eyes

It's I against me

I against me

I against me

(I, Me... I)"

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

Virgil isolated himself. He thought it would help. He really did. It only succeeded in making himself feel lonely. So lonely that he didn't feel like he could ever reach out. He didn't feel like he could bring up events in his life. From time to time he did, on things he didn't feel alone in dealing with, but when he felt truly and utterly alone, he didn't reach out. He couldn't reach out. That eventually led to possibly one of the biggest mistakes in his life. 

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

"I'm hurting everyone around me

And I'm regretting it profoundly

But I finally see that the reason is you

Another day another struggle

Because I'm always causing trouble

And I hate what you're making me do"

----------

Janus did not see their relationship as healthy. Virgil couldn't think of any reason for them to be friends other than he wanted to and he felt less lonely when talking to Janus. Even when he isolated himself, talking to Janus sometimes made him forget. But Virgil knew he was just being selfish. He was stifling Janus. Janus deserved a much better friend than Virgil could ever be. 

And when Janus got cold feet, Virgil took over and let go. Better he deal with all the guilt than his friend. Ex-friend. 

Self-loathing wasn't far behind. 

----------

"I'm blaming you that I've been cruel and mean to all my friends

Cuz I've become so rude and now another friendship ends

But now I started seeing clearer

I saw your face up in the mirror

Yes I'm the one to blame"

-----------

Virgil had cried himself to sleep the night before, "to sleep on his thoughts" Janus had suggested, he ended up with a stuffy nose before finally falling asleep. He didn't think he would be able to cry anymore after it actually ended but he supposed things do always go the way you think they do. He didn't think he would be the one to actually leave. It was just one more thing for Vitgil to blame himself for. Maybe it wasn't exactly a healthy thing to do but, Virgil needed to realize the truth. This was his fault, no one else's. He was the one to make the friendship toxic. No one else but him. He was told to get help and he didn't.  His dad and stepmother were right, he didn't know how to change. 

-----------

"That's why I bang my head against the wall

Cuz I don't like myself at all

Wish that I could cut all the ties

And now my life is such a tragedy

Cuz I'm my biggest enemy

I can't look myself in the eyes

It's I against me"

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

Virgil had dealt with friendships end before. He really couldn't think of anyone he knew who had ever stayed his friend throughout his whole life. There were people who went and came back and then went again. There were people who were friends but more out of obligation like they were family or they had no else at the time and needed someone. Virgil had had a few friends throughout his lifetime but never really any best friends. At least not ones where it didn't seem one sided. He should have realized the ending of his friendship with Janus was going to hurt a whole lot more than the ones before. 

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

"Me against I

A torturous battle

A one-sided fight

I'm willing to lose if it means

That I win in the end

Now the war is on

As we both collide

I just hope I will survive"

-----------

Virgil sat in his room. He couldn't go to his mom or aunt. He couldn't let them know what happened. He could deal with this on his own. There wasn't a rule that dealing with something on one's own required them to actually be able to handle the crushing weight of emotions pushing him down into the ground. 

Movies sometimes depicted people talking to their siblings if they couldn't or didn't want to go to an adult when they were hurting. But his brother wouldn't understand and he couldn't trust him not to tell anyone. And his sister...well, he hadn't heard from her in a while. He wasn't sure why, if it was because she thought he had been in on it when their brother set up a group video call and added their mother or if it was because of the letter. 

He had said things about their mom in the letter, hoping to get the 4 year silence between them to end, but maybe it was what he had confessed at the end of the letter that had stopped their communication. Maybe it wasn't the right idea to come out as Bi in a letter but how else was he supposed to be certain only his sister would hear? 

Yes, Virgil was trying to distract himself from the events of earlier that morning by thinking of other things that upset him. Not healthy but it kept him from crying for the most part so he counted it as a win. Except nothing could ever seem like a win on that day. More like a consolation prize. Like, "Hey you woke up today! You get to breathe!" But eventually, he would have to let reality run him over. 

-----------

"That's why I bang my head against the wall

Cuz I don't like myself at all

Wish that I could cut all the ties

And now my life is such a tragedy

Cuz I'm my biggest enemy

I can't look myself in the eyes

It's I against me"

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

Virgil often wondered what was wrong with him. Why some things didn't seem to make him react the ways others did. He really wished someone would just tell him everything that was wrong with him and why so he could fix it all. Most of the time when he tried to fix things he had messed up with before, he only ended up making things worse. It happened when he lived with his dad and now he was living with his mom. 

He wanted to change. Really, he did. At least he thought so. But people were telling him he wasn't changing. And of course they had to be right. He really wasn't changing. He was just fooling himself into believing he was. And he had fooled other people into believing he was. His mom was right, he really was manipulative.  

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

"Bang my head against the wall

Cuz I don't like myself at all (Ohh)

Wish that I could cut all the ties (Ohh)

And now my life is such a tragedy (It's I Against Me)

Cuz I'm my biggest enemy (Ohh)

I can't look myself in the eyes (Ohh)

It's I against me"

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

Maybe, Virgil thought. Maybe I'm not supposed to have friends. I don't deserve them and they deserve better than me. Tears spilled fast and heavy from Virgil's eyes. Maybe I was just meant to be alone. 

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

"I against me

I against me"

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

Everything taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @@little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws @odette-ssbu

[mylifeinchapters]

Chapter 3

Woof so last night was a something. Nothing too special but it was the 2nd day of jam-packed activity and it left me very tired. After work I went back to my apartment because it is easier to do my online therapy with Jane from my apartment then from my parent’s house. I got there and started to prep dinner when I got a knock at the door and surprise. It was the landlord telling me he had not gotten to my bathroom yet. (sarcastic yay) So he told me that Thursday will be the day it will get done and again I was like “OK but the mold” which he seemed to brush off. The mold is bad, but it stopped smelling as bad, I guess. Still bad and still bad enough for me to sleep at my parents. After he left I jumped online to talk with Jane. We just went over the course of the week. It’s weird that I don’t recognize that my life is stressful until some is like “yeah I can understand your anxiety you’ve been experiencing a lot of change lately” and then I reflect on that and I go “yeah you’re right how did I miss that” I feel a bit dumb because it so obvious.

Then came the rough part Rainbow Circle. I truly don’t know what to do with this group. I want it to keep going but people keep not showing up. I also don’t have topics to really talk about. Pause for a second. Rainbow Circle is an LGBTQ+ Christian group that I facilitate. I’m not the leader I just sorta get people together but I also feel like I’m kind of the leader and it is fizzling. The only people who showed up were John and Maryann. Suzanne bailed at the last second and I was so upset because I wanted to chat with her and also because she would be some who would talk. I am not a talker. I am a reactor. I add to the conversation and add insight and quips, but I am not good at generating conversation. Thankfully John is a talker, so we mostly talked about John’s problems/questions.

Maryann is confusing. I don’t think she wants to be at Rainbow Circle. I think she feels obligated to go for some reason, but she doesn’t like a lot of the people there and I don’t think she likes me anymore and I know people don’t like her and are avoiding RC because she is there. It’s annoying to know that if I kicked out Maryann maybe 2 people who I do like would come back. But that’s not the Christian thing to do.

But the way I have been treated by Christians I don’t know if I would even consider myself a Christian anymore. I’m very burned out by Christianity and its rules that say I am not good enough because I am gay. I’ve lived with that way thinking all my life and it is bullshit! I hate it and I hate the people think less of the LGBTQ+ Christians. So why do a facilitate a Christian group. I don’t know anymore. The rules of being a good Christian that I grew up with are wrong. God has not changed, I still think God loves me as I am, a HOMOSEXUSAL!!!!  but I have grown past the teachings of my childhood, I understand more. To quote the Tilda Swinton from Doctor Strange, “You’re a man looking at the world through a keyhole. You’ve spent your whole life trying to widen that keyhole, to see more, to know more. And now, on hearing that it can be widened in ways you can’t imagine, you reject the possibility.” Unlike Benedict Cumberbatch I have not rejected the possibility that God is bigger than the doctrine I was taught and that looking at the keyhole (AKA religion or God or faith) from a different perspective has given me a bigger idea of who God is. Not being stuck in rigid teaching has shown me more about myself and God. To quote Iroh from Avatar the Last Airbender, “It is important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale.” (honestly there are a ton of Iroh quotes. Maybe I’ll do post on them).

Then in what still feels like blasphemy I said out loud to people that I think other religions still lead to the same God and I know the 2009 version of me would have had a heart attack and would be very concerned for the 2021 version of me’s soul. I’m OK and I don’t know if that’s where I exactly land but it doesn’t feel completely wrong either so I am sitting with it for now. What started and as a conversation about John letting his son participate in communion transformed into a theological discussion on merits of institutionalized doctrine that goes against our understanding of who God is. In hindsight it was a good conversation and presents be me with a lot to chew. Like If the church is wrong about LGBTQ+ matters what else are they wrong about? How much of the teaching I learned as kid do I keep and what do I throw away? Can I even throw away aspects of a religion? If I do, aren’t I just created a new religion?  That’s why we have some many Christian denominations right? I think this is why I am still in the group even if it was just me and John talking. It challenges me and my views of God and I still, deep down, I want to be connected to a Christina group. I still like God and I still frame myself in relationship to God…even when it’s negative thoughts. It’s ingrained in me and I don’t think that is a bad thing. I closed out the night in prayer and I rushed to the gym.

I weighed myself before the Gym and I am still 190. Yeah, I have made some poor food choices since being at my parents but in no way has it been detrimental to my diet. I’ve been to the gym every day, and I have been eating within my calorie range…probably. I don’t eat all day and then I eat a ton of food at night and when I mean a ton of food let’s take last night as an example. Dinner was asparagus and salmon, very low calorie so I upped my calories by eating pumpkin seeds, then I ate some wild rice, but the big mistake was eating a giant frosted cookie the size of a CD. It was good but I also don’t know how many calories I ate. I had 1800 calories to play with so I should be fine…right?

I went to the gym and nothing crazy happened. I did back and 1 chest exercise. I avoided the personal trainer who is “helping me lose weight” because I have a session with him the next day. But man, personal trainer sessions are a rip off. They are so dumb. I am paying someone to be my spotter. Its dumb and I have not lost any weight. But I do like how I look. I’m giving off muscle bear vibes which is a look I really like. So I’m happy with how I look, I just want to lose some of the fat. I think I just want to define the chest more and sort of smooth out the gut. If I could look like the below picture I’d be happy.  

After the gym I shopped for pumpkin seeds and grabbed popcorn and chips. Popcorn just in case I got hungry and chips for the podcast. I won’t eat the chips until Monday. Then I went to my parents. At this point it’s 9pm and my mom is curiously still up milling around. She just wanted to watch TV with me I guess but I felt weird having her watch people explain the Dragonball Fighterz update patch so I decided to test my mom. I put on ContraPoints video essay about Envy. Would mom be bothered by a socialist transwoman talking about 1 of the 7 deadly sins? Since Natalie didn’t overtly say she was trans or a socialist it wasn’t a good test, but it was a good video even if it did put mom to sleep. I think we made it halfway through before I stopped it and she went to bed. I never got her feedback on the video and I don’t think I will ask. Is it weird that I am recounting the previous day in my journal entries….hmmmmm probably.

Work is boring and I just want the day to be over. 

[exhaustedfander]

 Commentary on this passage from Drown Me If You Must?

The epiphany set him into motion.

He rose slowly from the bed, pushing the blankets off and standing up uneasily. The wood floor groaned beneath his feet as he walked out of his bedroom, the house so dark he could barely see. He didn’t bother to turn on a light.

Janus wandered through the house, head thick with fog, and stopped just short of walking out the front door. Janus hesitated for the briefest moment, his hand grazing the door handle before he took a deep sure, deep breath and opened it, stepping out into the night.

The sand was cool under Janus’s bare feet, ivory moonbeams illuminating the waves. The smell of sea salt hung in his nostrils and suddenly, he’s back to that night, Patton’s echoed screams replaying again and again. Panic buzzed through Janus’s body, all instincts telling him to go back inside, crawl under the covers and pretend tomorrow would be better. He let a sigh roll past his lips, toes curling in the sand as he stared determinedly at the rolling waves.

No. He couldn’t turn back. Not now.

Really, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the whole story, if you don’t mind, it was hard picking something specific.

Commentary bellow the cut (Also, obviously, there are spoilers for this story ahead) You can find the story here / or on a03

Okay, this is a fun one! So Drown Me If You Must is originally a story I wrote in my creative writing class a while ago about a greiving woman who loses her wife to the cruel hands of the ocean, and it’s a work I was really happy with so I wanted to apply it to Moceit (y’know, for that sweet, sweet angst). 

So I really love writing Janus as a character. Since the last episode, he’s been my favorite side, and the idea of writing him as someone who struggled so much with vulnerability and once he’s finally found that losing Patton in such a tragic way was too beautifully sad to pass up. (I also deeply love moceit and that just makes this all the sadder)

Patton was finally someone who taught him to show intimacy and learn to peek out of his shell, and Janus had told him he didn’t want him to go out that night, but he’d done so anyway, and he’s gone. It was really sad to write about Janus’s years-long greiving process and isolating himself from those close to him, because he was just learning to trust and love people and then Patton was ‘taken’ from him. 

In the end, he can’t bear to continue living without him. This was a conclusion I grappled with a bit, because while it was the ending in the original story, it also deals with themes of suicide and I wasn’t entirely sure, before deciding to ultimately go through with it. 

As I noted in the tags on a03, the ending is very much open to interpreation. But regardless of how you veiw it, it’s a story about greif, and longing, and Janus deciding he cannot by any means continue to live without Patton by his side. He won’t let the sea have him, he won’t surrender his husband to her any longer, and he lets go and does what he can to get back to him. 

=+=

General Taglist: (In case y’all are interested) 

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

@maryann-draws 

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing

@elizabutgayer

@wishthefish916

@reptilianwithscallions 

[melyaliz]

Scribbles

Fandom: Marvel / X-men Movies 

Summary: Soulmate AU where whatever they write on their skin goes on their soulmates and person A keeps drawing dicks because they think it’s funny that they will show up on person B.  and person B having to constantly cover them up and like “who the FUCK is this asshole!”

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x OC 

Notes: First off yes, I know I have a few requests and this isn’t one of them but… I was inspired (Like 8 pages inspired) 

Gemma is my new oc that I am working on at the moment I’ll probably post her character sheet soon plus MAYBE finish her full story. 

Anyway, she grew up in a pretty christen household (thinking she may be a pastor's daughter) And I totally HC that Peter is TOTALLY the kind of guy who would draw on himself. 

So the image of like Gemma having to go to church with a HUGE dick on her arm and has to wear a sweater in summer and stuff was just too funny to pass up on. 

I honestly didn’t know how to end this so I just kind of did?

Promise requests will be coming soon :D 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

———--------------------------------------------------

Peter had already been suspended from writing on textbooks and his desk and with his notebook confiscated there was nothing left but his arm. 

 Freedom of expression man.

Plus the monster eating the freckle on his left arm was tiring out really good. 

“Mr. Maximoff, do you have anything of value to add to our discussion today?” 

“Huh?”

“That’s what I thought.” 

Peter frowned his brown eyes scanning the board for a moment taking in the information before glancing over at Karen’s notes. Pride and prejudice was as boring as it sounded. Wasn’t that kind of a chick book anyway?

“Yeah, I’m good” Peter added putting his hands behind his back as his teacher his arm and art clearly visible for the teacher to see just to prove his defiance to this book. 

However, the teacher didn’t react and just went back to the front of the class.

Confused Peter looked at his arm. 

It was blank. 

-*-

“Gemma what did you do to your arm!?!” 

Gemma glanced down at her arm, the sleeve of her rolled up Catholic school uniform visibly showed the dark drawings of monsters eating helpless woman. “Uhhh I…”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you go to that Iron Maiden concert,” her mother and school’s math teacher said grabbing her daughter pulling her toward the bathroom. “Your body is a temple” 

“Mom I promise? I have no idea how I got this!” 

Her mother paused for a moment looking down at her daughter’s arm, the permanent dark images now bleeding down her pale skin making them look even more grotesque. 

“I wonder…” 

“What Mom?” 

“So you didn’t draw on yourself?”

“I mean I have before but this isn’t me I’m not this good. Honest, I know it sounds crazy but it just showed up after science. Bobby was laughing about it and I was so confused.” Gemma adding a little More soap to her arm blowing away a few strands of her white-blonde hair out of her face, “besides I’m not stupid enough to draw demons on my arm at a Catholic school”

“It could be your soulmate” 

“Huh?” Gemma turned to her mom who was now rummaging in her bag for something. Once she found it she pulled out her pen handing it to her daughter.

“Write something”

“What happened to my body is a temple?” 

“Too late now” her mother laughed motioning to the melting monsters. “Go ahead”

“What should I draw?” Nerves bubbling up inside her. Weird how nervous you can suddenly get. 

“Anything you want.” 

Growing Gemma placed the pen to her skin pausing for a moment trying to think about what to draw. 

HELLO 

-*-

Bold block letters running down the length of his arm stopping at his wrist. Peter had already gotten a detention slip for mouthing off to his teacher and was now tapping his pencil on his desk as he sat there. Board out of his mind… until now. 

Curious he glanced down at his arm looking over the words now scrolled boldly over his arm. 

Interesting. 

“Maximoff are we going to have a problem?” 

“Nope” came the distracted respond as Peter slowly drew a question mark behind the Hello.

-*-

?

A simple question mark drew itself next to one of the monsters making him look more inquisitive than scary. Gemma bit her lip trying not to laugh during her English class. 

Poor little guy, he was more confused that she was. Probably wondering why she had tried to erase him from her arm. 

-*-

 Could you not use a permanent marker? These monsters will never come off. 

Neat full circles looped across the top of his arm before one of his monsters came back to him in bright pink sharpie. Obviously traced. 

Oh, it’s on. 

Pulling out his VERY permanent maker Peter started to draw. 

-*-

“Shit” Gemma hissed as the huge dick and balls appeared on her hand. The shaft stretching from her hand down to her wrist. 

“Miss Gemma? Is there something you would like to say to the class?” 

Quickly she hid her hand under her desk “nope.” 

“What are you hiding?” 

“Nothing sister”

“Then pull up your hands” as Gemma slowly planted her hands on the desk the nun gasped “GEMMA!” 

“It’s not me!”

“Who else would do that? And when because I don’t remember seeing any phallic images on you before” 

“I…” 

“Detention” 

Tossing her books and supplies into her backpack Gemma stood up walking off to detention, Sister Maryann stopped her handing her a bar of soap. Gemma looked down at it wondering where in the hell she had even been hiding that. Although Sister Maryann was known for washing kids mouths out with soap when they “took the Lord's name in vain” so maybe this was the mouth soap. 

-*-

Actual size Bold thick and large lettering hung over a small dick laying limp on the same hand he had drawn his own gorgeous penis drawing. 

Which of course, appeared right as he was flirting with Suzie, the cutest girl in school. 

“You have something on your hand…” the pretty brunette said nodding toward Peter’s hand which was holding her own as he “explained” the best way to use a joystick on the newest arcade game that had been put in across the street from their high school.   

“Are you kidding me!?!” Peter said pulling his hand quickly away, “Freak used permanent marker too”  

“What did it say?” Suzie giggled trying to get a look at his hand as her jock boyfriend walked up throwing an arm over her. 

“What up Petey?” 

“His hand just got this weird mark on it.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yep, got to go, see you both later fellow classmates,” Peter said saluting before dashing off probably a little faster than he should have. 

“This asshole” he hissed as he quickly ran his hand under the water trying to rub it off face slightly flushed with embarrassment over having the girl of his dreams see it. And they had been getting along so well too!

Oh it was on now. 

-*-

“This asshole” Gemma laughed as she scrubbed her arm with the hard bar of soap. Leave it to Sister Maryann to have the magic cure for something that shouldn’t be cured. While her hand was now rubbed raw from scrubbing, the large dick was no longer scrolled across her hand and the monsters were all but faded away. 

Letting out a triumphant laugh she looked into the mirror a huge smile on her face. 

Which faded into shock as her reflection looked back at her. 

Her face with a huge twisted mustache drawn across her upper lip. 

“SON OF A BITCH!” 

Soulmate my ass. This person was the devil incarnate. 

-*-

Nothing. 

Peter checked everywhere, even stripping down to make sure there wasn’t anything written on… his precious bits. 

But no. Nothing came up.

Guess he had won. 

Something he through of proudly as he continued to doodle across his arms and legs. He never wrote on his face again and kept things mostly contained.

Although he would draw the occasional risque image in a fun place just to see if he would get a reaction. 

Not that he cared.

Not that it mattered.

It wasn’t like the thought of having someone out there that he could always talk to, was always there no matter what was something he wanted. 

Nope, not at all. 

Although when the cuts and bruises started to form he got a little worried. They got worse as time went on. Large hand size bruises and burns running all over his body. It was as if whoever that was on the other side was part of some fight club or something. 

During that time was the only time he truly addressed them.

Are you ok? 

-*-

Gemma rubbed her arm nervously as she walked through Xavier's school for gifted children. Led by the man himself it, Charles Xavier. 

She didn’t belong here, among the heroes. After being brainwashed to become nothing more than a weapon in some twisted man’s army Gemma felt like the silly catholic school girl who had a closeted love for Heavy Metal music was like a stranger to her. In her place was this strange woman now walking through a fog of uncertainty. 

The words Are you ok had almost faded from her arm but she had refused to wash it away. It had been a reminder that morning that something may have been wrong. That maybe those strange dreams she was having and those wounds she was waking up with were maybe not just nothing. 

That small warning that had been the tipping point. An almost literal wakeup call that had ended with her coming to this place filled with other mutants. People who had helped set her free from her prison. Break free from the mind control she had been under.

And faced with the reality of what she had unknowingly done under that man’s control she had no idea where to go from there. 

Where did she belong?  

-*-

It was faint but Peter saw it as she pointed toward the library asking Charles a question. Faded little gray letters, rushed and fast, scribbled across her underarm. 

He didn’t need to know what they said, he already knew. 

-*-

Turn  Around

Gemma blinked in confusion as the bold messy words flashed onto her hand. 

What? 

How?

Turning she saw him, the speedster, Peter, standing a few feet behind her, a permanent marker in his hand with a huge smile on his face.

“Hello.” 

Shock. 

It washed over her like cold water.

For years she had wondered who that total ass was who had continued to plague her body with drawings. Her once perfect record marred with endless visits to the principle and detention. Gemma had always been a fly under the radar kind of girl, just be middle of the road and go unseen. Yet all those colorful drawings and even more colorful words had made her stand out in ways she had never dreamed of. 

Who was that person? Why were they doing this? How come they didn’t seem to care? After all, it was clear there was someone else was getting marred by those drawings.

A million questions flew through her mind and even more memories. 

Yet nothing seemed to come out.

“Bet you never thought you would be this lucky,” Peter said running his fingers through his silver hair. “I mean you basically hit the jackpot of soulmates.” 

“You…” her hands flickered with energy, emotions building up inside her spilling out, “total ASS!” 

Peter went flying across the hallway as she shot him, not enough to hurt him just kind of give him a taste of what he had been doing to her for the past 8ish years. 

“Could you two maybe…. I guess not” Charles groaned as Gemma’s second blast missed a much wiser Peter, blowing up a beautiful 16th-century vase.

“It took me a WEEK to wash off that stupid dick you drew across my chest! And that during prom weekend” 

Peter was laughing as he grabbed Gemma taking her outside where they could hash this out somewhere safe. 

“So what kind of dress did you wear to prom?” Peter asked looking her over trying to picture it, a cute little red (or maybe blue to match her eyes) dress with a big of black dick drawn up her chest the tip peeking out of the collar.

“A cardigan thanks to you.”

“Awww what’s the fun in that?” 

“I went to a Catholic school.” 

Peter stood there for a moment the image of her in a little catholic uniform covered in his demon and phallic drawings was just…

Perfect.

“Jesus Christ you didn’t!?!” he doubled over laughing as she watched him trying to fight back a smile. Honestly, after everything she had been through the memories of her trying to scrub off little devils and titties off her arms and legs felt almost… 

Comforting. 

As annoying as they were, those drawings had kind of been comforting. They set her apart, let her know (as weird as he was) there was someone out there that was all her’s. Yes the dicks and the tits were annoying but there were also some pretty cool song lyrics that had helped her to discover music she hadn’t heard before. 

He was like her annoying little secret that broke out away from the everydayness of her very normal life.  

Plus she had to admit, it was a pretty funny image looking back. 

Not that she would EVER admit any of this to him. At least not right now. 

“You owe me big.” 

“Oh, Gemma I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“Why do I get the feeling your idea of making it up to me is going to be different than what mean?” 

“Maybe being soulmates always means you can read my mind?” he said leaning forward wagging his eyebrows. Gemma couldn’t help but laugh up at him as he took a step back holding out his hand.

“Friends?” 

“Friends.” 

As she took his hand Gemma had a feeling that much like the first time those little monsters appeared on her arms, her life was going to be filled with many more surprises. 

-GET TAGGED!- 

Tagging: @royslittleharper​​​  @the-shadow-of-atlantis​​​ @coffee-randomness​​​ @daisyboobear​​​ @nilthanious​​  @jason-redhood​​ @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr​ @ocelysium​ @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep

[polarishq]

Meet SHILOH POWELL. They are UNKNOWN/THIRTY TWO years old and hail from JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY. Shiloh embodies the constellation, PHOENIX. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is EMMY ROSSUM.

Phoenix reminds me of Hey What’s Up You Guys, Welcome Back to My Channel, imposter syndrome, only knowing second-hand love, the sterile smell of a hospital room, can’t do math (both because of the gay and because she’s never had a formal education), trying to navigate the terrifying world of Instagram notoriety, a sudden shift in the mannerisms of someone you’ve known your whole life, private hobbies learned in rare spare moments, an unwilling devotion to the stars, the story of Sisyphus, an attention to detail, beanies. Beanies in every color. So many beanies, universal across time and space and identities. A secret beanie cove. Beanies!!!!!!!!

BIOGRAPHY

Major TWs: Various terminal illnesses, and talking about them in a somewhat casual manner.

When Shiloh wakes up as Shiloh, she comes to know herself as a twenty-nine year old Twitter-famous witch with a heart defect, and the first thing that springs to mind is: “Well, at least it’s not another brain tumor.” When you have a mission, particularly when you don’t know what that mission actually is, brain tumors are problematic; they affect your mood, and your memory, and as they grow, your cognitive functions begin to slow, making your already limited time on earth more difficult to navigate. For someone like Shiloh, who has a short yet undetermined amount of time to fulfill a task, staying in operation until the end is imperative. Of course, heart problems come with their own set of complications; namely, she doesn’t know when time is running out. One day she can be out on the town, smokin’ cigarettes and fucking strangers and having a grand ol’ time, and the next—boom, dead.

Shiloh has been a puppet for the stars for centuries, now, as have all who have been cursed with the Phoenix sponsorship, and it’s frankly a pain in the ass. When Shiloh first came into consciousness, it was somewhere in the astral plane, face to face with the former Phoenix—a boy with bags under his eyes, a failure, tasked with passing the torch onto his successor before their spirit dies permanently. The message was simple: “To live, you must complete the task before your current body dies. Your time is limited, you do not know what it is ahead of time, but it is a significant goal that impacts the world in some way, even if you cannot see that in the moment. If you succeed, you live out the remainder of that body’s life before you move onto the next. If you fail, you get no second chances. You die, and that is it.” … Load of fucking bullshit, if you ask her, because who does that? But sure enough, Shiloh blinked and woke up in the body of a young girl with tuberculosis, and from that point on, it’s been nonstop.

It’s also worth noting that Shiloh is not really Shiloh, though for the sake of this life, she is. She actually doesn’t know who she is, as she’s constantly assuming the identities of others and must step as seamlessly as possible into their lives without drawing a great deal of attention to herself, which is neither easily said nor done. She has formed hobbies that follow her from one life to the next, has developed her own set of moral standards, but there is not much freedom in the way that she lives. Sometimes she is born a wife, or a grandpa, or a moody teenager. Sometimes she has a week, or several decades. She’s not always born into the body of a witch, but her powers seem to follow her where she goes—occasionally they coincide with the original host, but not always. Mostly, she doesn’t know why she continues to live life the way she does. There is nothing to gain aside from the possibility of perhaps one day finding peace, or happiness, or love, which Shiloh has only come to know second hand (waking up in the bed of someone’s lover, feeling the way they touch her and knowing that person was loved so deeply, but it’s not her, she’s merely an intruder, always an intruder). It’s a thankless job (congratulations, you did it, have an autoimmune disorder as a display of our undying gratitude!). Every life she comes to realize more and more what she will never have, but for now, she continues to fulfill her duties as though something might one day change.

Anyway, when Shiloh wakes up as Shiloh, not only can she tell she’s a twenty-nine year old witch with an ungodly amount of Twitter notifications, but she’s quick to find out she’s famous this time. Not, like, Angelina Jolie with the paparazzi kind of famous, but Youtube famous, with a boisterous channel with millions of followers and daily content, an aesthetic Instagram and—for the love of God—a fucking TikTok account. This comes with the perk of being able to review hours of content of the body she’s inhabiting, picking up quirks and mannerisms and speech patterns, but also with the added complication of being under the scrutiny of a lot of people. Documented slip-ups are never good. Shiloh also comes to find that she can’t just disappear, because she’s the oldest of a large, loud Jersey family who depends on her income to keep a roof over their heads, so it’s not like she can exactly start a scandal and get herself “cancelled” as was her original inclination. Fine.

What she does do is eventually take her channel down to weekly posts, boosts her acceptance of Instagram ads to supplement the income (those are pretty easy), and enrolls at Polaris, where she’s found her missions take her often these days. It’s always weird, seeing people she knows and has formed relationships with under different identities, but it doesn’t take her terribly long to adapt, as it’s not the first time she’s had to wrestle with this notion.

Although her first few months at Polaris were uneventful, the day Shiloh met Light, who introduced her to a famous serial killer group called the Lunatics, she felt the first piece of the puzzle click into place. She’d like to say she fit in like a glove, but that’s only an accurate depiction if we’re talking about that OJ Simpson glove; suspicious, divisive, and enigmatic. Her appearance caused problems from the get-go, though that was likely because she’d infiltrated their ranks and was the one who felt most comfortable calling Light out on their abusive bullshit. When Light began to abuse her too, locking her up in rooms, staving her, putting her though physical and mental trauma to try and beat her in line, Shiloh only felt like she was getting closer and closer to what the stars actually wanted. Maybe Light needed to be handled, or perhaps the others needed to be freed, or perhaps the Lunatics would lead her to a certain mark. Whatever it was, Shiloh felt confident that she was on the right path.

—Light’s dead, now. No matter the who, or the what, or the why, for this immediate bullet point, and things are in disarray. Shiloh hasn’t received any indication that she’s solved her mission, and with this new distraction, she’s terrified that her clock is running out and she’s been wasting her time with a group that has nothing to do with what Phoenix actually wants from her this go-around. But she can’t just disappear, because some of them suspect her as it is given her newcomer status, and Shiloh’s got too much at stake in this current lifetime (the Powell kids, the fact that she finally got James Charles to follow her back on Instagram, having no other leads), so she remains in it. Might as well see this through until the bitter end.

INCLINATION

Those with the Phoenix sponsorship are not truly people, but simply a consciousness; meant to be a foot soldier for the stars, Phoenix is always a passionate, cunning individual with an affinity for fire magic, though sometimes they inhabit bodies of witches with different inclinations and can pick up some of those skills, though they lose them again as soon as they’re reborn. These individuals wake up in the body of a person, always with a limited lifespan (often a terminal illness, though occasionally death is destined another way) and is given that limited time on earth to fulfill a certain duty for the stars; if they succeed, they are reborn, but if they fail, the torch passes on. Phoenix is one of the more cursed constellations, despite most people thinking its’ representative of second chances, but with the right person at the helm, Phoenix makes more of an impact on the world at large than most people will ever know.

CONNECTIONS

In the Know: This is either a Polaris staff member/professor, townsperson, or someone who’s been around for centuries that knows the nature of Phoenix and is the one common thread who has known Shiloh throughout multiple identities/rebirths. They might be helping Shiloh try and find a way to keep one identity and be able to live life the way she wants, so she seeks them out early so they can continue their work.

Fan: Someone who’s been watching Shiloh’s channel for years and picked up on the shift in her demeanor. They’re likely nosy and Shiloh avoids them at all costs.

Sibling: Fuck it, a younger sibling who’s also at Polaris and is probably also low key suspicious of changes in Shiloh’s behavior. Bonus points if it’s Jeremy Allen White.

Filling Maryanne Brooks’ #WifeGoals.

Filling Ethan King’s Bad Influence.

Filling Izabel Navorra’s You Spin Me Right Round.

Penned by Ashley★

[sqoiler]

i am on a ROLL!!!!! chapter 4 of my book below the cut (as usual, feedback is appreciated! :D)

4.

Rebecca barely makes it to Jess’s room before she starts screaming.

Jess wraps her in a hug and Rebecca screeches into her shoulder, feeling tears well up in her eyes and really trying not to cry.

“It’ll be okay,” Jess says, patting her back soothingly. “It’ll be okay.”

“I can’t marry him,” Rebecca says, her voice muffled. “I’m not--I can’t do this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jess says, and Rebecca takes off her tiara and throws it on Jess’s bed, sinking to the ground and burying her face in her palms like a child.

“What am I supposed to do?” Rebecca asks, and the tears are falling down her face now. “How do I--what do I do?”

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Jess says, sitting next to her. “I’ve never had to deal with an arranged marriage before.”

Rebecca moans and scrubs the tears away from her cheeks.

“My mom’s gonna kill me,” she says, and Jess puts her arm around Rebecca, draws her closer.

“It’ll be okay,” she says again, and Rebecca tries not to cry harder.

They stay like that for a long time, but then Jess has to go so she does, and Rebecca tries to rub her eyes again and gives up. She decides to take a walk to clear her head.

Rebecca leaves her tiara in Jess’s room and hopes she won’t run into her mother.

Rebecca doesn’t often walk the halls of the castle, she’s more used to secret passages and being outside. The halls are open and wide and huge and uncomfortable and Rebecca thinks that they’re probably beautiful but she’s never really stopped to notice.

She’s caught up in her musings, somewhere in the middle of the guest areas of the castle, when she bumps into someone.

She stumbles backwards and her arms shoot out to catch the other girl.

“Sorry,” Rebecca gasps once the other girl is on her feet again. Rebecca blinks when they make eye contact.

The other girl has sandy blondish hair falling over her face, and dark green eyes that are wide, probably because she’s figured out who Rebecca is.

“By elvish shoes--you’re the princess--I’m sorry---” the girl stammers out, her face turning a brilliant shade of red.

“No, it’s okay,” Rebecca says, pleads. “Please don’t be formal with me.” Rebecca thinks she sounds too desperate but the other girl either takes pity on her or sees something within her, because her face twists from fear and embarrassment to relaxed and casual.

“Okay, then,” the girl says, and she tosses her hair over her shoulder. The movement captivates Rebecca momentarily.

“What’s your name?” Rebecca asks, because they’ve said barely four words to each other but Rebecca already likes this girl.

“Tim,” the girl says, and Rebecca’s never heard of a girl named Tim before, but she likes it.

“Okay, Tim,” Rebecca says. “I’m Rebecca.”

It’s dumb, because of course Tim knows who Rebecca is, but Tim doesn’t laugh. She smirks, and she shakes Rebecca’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, then, “Want to hang out?”

“Yes,” Rebecca says immediately, and Tim hasn’t let go of her hand yet, and she doesn’t, just runs, pulling Rebecca behind her.

The movement startles her, and it tears a laugh from her throat and adrenaline fills her and she doesn’t care where they’re running.

Tim slows and releases Rebecca’s hand. Rebecca’s heart is pounding and she misses Tim’s hand in her own.

“Where are we?” she asks, looking around. She recognizes the tapestry on the wall. “The armory?”

“I’ll be honest,” Tim says, doubled over and panting--but laughing. “I have no idea where anything is in this castle. I just ran.”

“Oh,” Rebecca says, laughing too. “Well, I do.”

“I’m sure,” Tim says, grinning, and Rebecca says, “Where do you want to go?”

Tim taps her chin in thought. Her nails are painted a navy blue. Rebecca’s never worn nail polish before.

“Take me to the library,” she says, and Rebecca grins.

“But of course,” she says, and she pulls aside the tapestry and pushes the fourth stone on the sixth row, and the wall opens to reveal a narrow passage. “Right this way.”

“Stellar,” Tim says, awe written on her face, and she ducks inside the passage. Rebecca follows, closing the passage behind her.

They’re thrown into darkness, and Rebecca fumbles for a second before she turns on her phone flashlight.

“I’ve never been in a secret passage before,” Tim says, sounding giddy, and Rebecca giggles.

“There’s a lot around here,” she says. “Follow me.”

They start to walk and Rebecca says, “So are you with the Icewood embassy?”

“Yeah,” Tim says.

“Cool,” Rebecca says. “I’ve never been to Icewood.”

“I’ve never been to Devonelle,” Tim says. “Or anywhere, really.”

“I’ve been to Axelia,” Rebecca said.

“Is it as pretty as they say?”

“Oh yes,” Rebecca says, and then she stops and opens the passage from the other side. “Here we are.”

“I’m so excited,” Tim says, and they go out of the passage and into the library. “Woah.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca says. The library is big and grand and Rebecca’s always been fond of it. “I like to go in here to avoid my mom. She doesn’t really see the merit of reading.”

“Really? My mom loves reading,” Tim says.

“Did your mom come here?”

“No,” Tim says. “Um. No. I came alone.”

“Okay,” Rebecca says. She doesn’t want to pry as to why. “Cool.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. Rebecca watches her look around. “What do you like to read about?”

“The kingdoms,” Rebecca says. “Adventure stories.”

“I bet you have a lot of adventures around here,” Tim says, and Rebecca shrugs.

“Not really,” she says. “Being a princess...it’s pretty boring.”

“I guess,” Tim says, then she looks from side to side, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’m on an adventure right now.”

“To the library?” Rebecca whispers, the softer volume seeming fitting.

“I’m in the palace library, in Devonelle, without my mom or sisters even in the same country with me, and I held the princess of Devonelle’s hand. Sounds pretty adventurous to me.”

“Well if you say it like that,” Rebecca teases, and suddenly a little girl bursts from out of nowhere.

“Rebecca!” she gasps, panting, and Rebecca grabs her shoulders.

“Andi, what is it?”

“It’s Maryanne,” Andi says. Maryanne is one of the cooks. “She’s--she’s--she doesn’t have much time left.”

“What?” Rebecca asks, and Andi takes a deep breath, tears streaming down her face.

“She’s got the chills, and her head is aching, and she can’t walk, and--”

“Take me to her,” Rebecca says, understanding immediately. “Now.”

Andie grabs Rebecca’s hand, and Rebecca grabs Tim’s, and together they run back into the passage, and through the walls of the castle, to find Maryanne.

[brianwestchest]

Day 815- To Serve Man

To Serve Man

This weekend I’ve been at the Afterlife Research and Education Conference. The conference itself has been outstanding with the top experts in afterlife research making appearances.

As our questions about the afterlife are answered, one question remains and keeps coming up over and over again.  If the afterlife is so idyllic, why the hell do we come here to do this?  Not only do we do it once.  We do it over and over again. Not only do we keep repeating it, we plan in the pain. We even plan for things as masochistic as the death of a child.

There is not on answer to this question of why. The best theories are that we do this for personal development or growth. Roberta Grimes likes to say this is just a bad afternoon in the gym.  Another prominent theory is we do it for excitement or adventure. It’s boring being in perfection all the time.  We want to experience separation. We want to experience lack. We want to experience pain.  These answers are ultimately focused on the self.  We want to grow so we can be better than others  or at least better than we are now.  We want to advance to the higher levels.  Or, this is just a play for our amusement or a trip to a sometimes scary Disney World.   I think it’s a little of both of those things.  But, what I’m coming around to is the main reason is we come here to serve and to love. Personal development is great because it increases our capacity to serve in greater and greater ways. The strong we become, the more we can empathize, the more we can serve.  

This weekend, the conference within the conference has been me hanging out with a group of warrior women from Helping Parents Heal.  Colorado Beth, Hawaii Beth, Colleen, Heidi, Irene, Lynn Maryann, Sara,Sue, Terri,Tracy and Tywana are all with Helping Parents Heal. Each of us has had the experience of the “loss” of a child. Don’t ask me why there are no men here. It is what it is.  Some of these women I have known for a few months, even though the bond is so strong it seems like several years.  Some I have known via social media.  Some I only met a few days ago.

Last night, after the agenda for the day was over, we went over to Whole Foods, grabbed some prepared foods and came back to the hotel where we sat on the patio and shared food and a glass or six of wine.  As I looked around the circle, I was reminded of the mini series  Band of Brothers. This is a band of sisters, and Brian. We are on a mission.  Maryann told us that she is descended from the Spartans, appropriate for the mission she is on.  As we were discussing what we are doing here, I reminded Colonel Beth (not a metaphor, she is an actual Colonel in the US military) that we signed up for this mission. We have to see it through. These are the bravest of the brave. They did not comes here to have fun. Nor did they come here simply for their own personal growth. Sara tells us she and Scott, her son who passed away at the age of 19, have done this numerous times. You don’t do that for fun. And I really don’t believe Sara is a slow learner that needed to repeat the same lesson again and again to get it. She does it to heal the world, as we all do. As much as we hate to say it, and more so hate to hear it, we have probably done it before and we will probably do it again.

As we sat in the circle last night we took a break from our mission of saving the world, but we didn’t stop serving.  We served each other. We have all been battered and bloodied on the mission. We took a night to dress our wounds. We shared our stories. And what stories they are. The tales are so fantastic that anyone who hasn’t had these experiences wouldn’t believe them. Colleen shared stories that would be cut from a Hollywood script because the audience would never believe 26 feathers would fall from the sky to show a skeptic Austin is still here.  The stories are also too numerous to tell here.  These are not one offs.  They are not rarities. We are being assisted and guided on this mission.  As we shared the stories, the magic that the universe tries to hide, making us believe life is all random and chance, was exposed.  I was spontaneously filled with gratitude for this revelation. People keep telling me to “practice” gratitude. “Being grateful will raise your vibrational level and draw good things to you.”  Well, gratitude comes hard to a parent who has “lost” a child.  I’ve seen parents faking it, posting sweet affirmations on Facebook trying to convince themselves and the wold they are feeling something they are not. For me, gratitude comes  naturally when I step back a bit. When I remember I am not just the human who will live here, I am the Observer who planned this whole thing and am, slowly, day by day fulfilling my mission, when I trust in that, in spite of the appearances, that is when the gratitude comes naturally.  

We comforted each other as well as sharing our stories. We reminded each other of the bigger picture that is so easy to forget in the day to day skirmishes.  As we sat there talking I got the feeling the plan was coming together. I love words.  The word coalesce came into my head.  We had just seen Suzanne Giesemann channel a group of advanced beings she calls Sanayyah. I wonder if perhaps we are a Sanayyah in the making.  I’ve been told that on, the levels above the astral planes, people instead of identifying as individuals identify as a collective.  

Sanayyyah reminded us that, while our children’s “deaths” are tragic from our human perspective, they are no tragic from the perspective of the soul.  They are opportunities for growth.  More importantly, they are opportunities for service.  And, each and every one of these brave women is serving with honor.

As I sat in the circle, lyrics from a Don Henley song played on a loop in my head.

You think this is love Your education starts today So you think this is love? So tell me How bad do you want it? How bad do you want it? How bad do you want it? Not bad enough So you put a hold on happiness … a day, a week, a year You got to bring somethin’ to this party, boy If you party here.

Yeah, to be a part of this party, you got to bring something all right. We have all paid a dear price to be in this circle.  We have put a hold on our personal happiness.  It’s a temporary hold. We will have this party again in the Summerland one day and we will have some stories to tell then!  I wonder if they have boxed wine in the Summerlands.

As I got my download this morning, the title for this post came to me.  A couple of options presented themselves.   “To Serve Man” is the title of an episode of the Twilight Zone. In the episode, humans find a book left behind by an alien.  They translate the title to find out it says To Serve Man.  The twist is the book is not a book about serving, but it’s a cookbook.  But, that’s not important to my tale today.  I liked the title. As I sat alone at breakfast on the patio, I overheard a conversation between two women at the table next to me. They were marveling about the advancements of technology. One said to the other “Isn’t it amazing. I can download any episode I want of Twilight Zone to my phone and play it whenever I want.”  What?  Did she just mention Twilight Zone?   I’m not even amazed by the synchronicities anymore.  I am grateful for them. I note them and I cherish them.  But, I know they will just keep coming as the plan unfolds itself and we serve until the mission is complete.  

p.s.- I like to get two events before I call something a synchronicity. Otherwise, it could be random chance. Either two validations of the triggering thing or two triggers each with a validation. Tonight, after the farewell party, we were being driven back to our hotel. Suzanne was talking about "the heart" and just then Don Henley's The Heart of the Matter came on the radio. The radio volume was pretty low and I don't think I would have noticed had she not pointed out the coincidence. What I didn't tell anyone is that I had made a Don Henley reference in this post this morning and was actually considering another Don Henley song as the title. Synchronicity number two. Validation noted.

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Poor Little Anxious Crybaby (Pt.1)

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

Patton Black had everything he'd ever wanted in life, a lovely husband, a large house with lots of space, and he didnt have to do anything to keep it up, all he had to do was be nice and quiet and pretty. Of course in order for his life to be absolutely perfect, he needed children, and a year or so into his marriage was the first, a little boy named Janus, born with a large birth mark on one side of his face, hence the name.

Five years later Patton had a daughter, who, in an unfortunate misunderstanding, was named Crybaby.

Or at least, for about fourteen years.

Virgil Black had changed his name nearly the exact same day he'd changed his gender, but he felt like he'd never be rid of it.

"Hey crybaby, you gonna cry in gym today?"

"Crybaby! I know a place where no one will notice you crying! The lake!"

Day after day at school Virgil would have to listen to the snickers and catcalls and jeers of his classmates. He was used to it, he tried to will himself to ignore it, he should've been able to ignore it.

Yet every comment pierced through his chest like arrows or swords. He tried everything to stop it, biting his nails, lips, messing with his hair, hoodie strings, but nothing worked. It all just seemed to build up, he could almost feel the pressure behind his eyes, and of course, at what always seemed to be the worst times possible, he broke.

His face would flood with tears, he would try desperately to wipe them away, pressing himself against lockers and walls and hiding behind over sized hoodie sleeves.

"Awe look at him! I was only telling him to drown,"

"So pathetic, no wonder his parents named him that,"

"Hes so weird, no wonder he doesnt have any friends,"

I dont care I dont care I dont care I dont care Virgil repeated the words in his head day after day and night after night. When he went to bed he wished he could sleep, but instead he lay awake, watching his closet, tears running down his face as the comments flooded back into his brain. The only times he could seem to go to sleep before three in the morning was on holidays, when he could be at home.

His father Patton would sing him to sleep, massaging his back and smiling at him until he drifted off.

He missed his brother, he'd graduated the same year Virgil hit 9th grade, so he could no longer run to him for cover at school.

"I dont wanna go back, please dad I wanna stay here I hate the sleepaway school please can I just stay here until I'm eighteen?" Virgil was practically pleading with Patton as his other father sat absentmindedly watching sports on the couch behind them.

"Virgil sweetheart I would but your father really wants you to stay! Believe me I've always wanted some stay at home babies but this is a very expensive school! You've only got four years, you'll be alright," Patton said, running a hand through Virgil's hair.

"But Janus said-" Virgil burst into tears again, Patton shot a glare across the room at the tall boy drumming his fingers on the dining room table.

"Oh nonono kiddo dont cry, shh, it's alright, you'll be ok I promise, it's almost over I promise," Patton said, running his hands down Virgil's face.

"You've got the whole summer with us kiddo, you wont have to go back until september," Patton said, smiling. Virgil nodded slightly.

"Janus, help your brother please," Patton moved his hands away from Virgil and rushed into the kitchen. Janus sat up from his spot at the table and walked over to Virgil, a sly grin plastered on his face.

"Oh no you dont-" Virgil said, he was about to take off up the stairs, but just before he could make contact with the first step Janus swept him up and hoisted him over his shoulder.

Virgil cried over a lot of things, but he couldnt find a single thing that might upset him as long as he was home.

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

Tag list:

@youtuberswithalex

@boobmaster69

@meowthefluffy

@thecolorfulolive

@frog-candy-bee

@thefivecalls

@melodiread

@nerosdayinhell

@maryann-draws

@faycanyons

@deathcanbegreat

[wilddragonflying]

Vengeance in the Night

First fic for my New Vegas character, Courier!

“So,” Boone says, the word leaving his mouth on a cloud of cigarette smoke. He passes the stub when Courier gestures for it.

“So?” she prompts after a long drag of her own, passing the butt back.

“This man we’re chasing, with the checked suit. He an ex?” Courier raises an eyebrow, and Boone elaborates, “Way I see it, the only reason someone chases a man with the look you get when you talk about him, he’s a man who hurt you somehow.”

Courier snorts. “He did hurt me,” she concedes, voice rough as it’s been since Victor dragged her near-dead body out of its shallow grave. “But it wasn’t a betrayal.” She taps the scar just above her left eyebrow. “He’s the one who left me with this.”

Boone raises his own eyebrow. “He’s the one who tried to kill you?”

“Yep,” Courier answers nonchalantly, poking idly at the fire and stirring the embers.

Quiet falls for a moment except for the sounds of the Mojave at night; Boone eventually breaks it. “You got a plan for when we catch up with him, or are you going to wing it the way you usually do?”

Courier smirks. “I’m going to show him how you make sure the person you’re killing stays dead,” she answers cheerfully. “Going to give him a grave of his own.”

Boone considers that for a moment before he nods. “Makes sense,” he allows. “I got revenge for my wife, you need it for your life.”

“And my memories,” Courier says darkly. She had found out her name - Maryanne Trude - from Nash in Primm, but she still had only fragments of memories. Odds were, Doc Mitchell figured, that she’d be lucky If she ever got any full memories back instead of the half-dreams she’s got now.

Boone gets a sympathetic look on his face but says nothing except, “Well, I’ll do my best to get you to him.”

Courier feels her lips stretch into a small smile. “I appreciate it.”

Boone stays at her back as they stride into the Tops Casino in New Vegas, staying silent as usual as Courier speaks in hushed tones with Swank, apparently Benny’s second-in-command. At the end of the conversation, the two of them have their weapons back and a key to the elevators to Benny’s apartment. Boone doesn’t speak until they’re on thin way to the elevator. “So, we’re just going to get the chip and leave?” he asks, clearly skeptical.

Courier just grins, scanning the casino floor in a way Boone recognizes from their trek through cazador territory. After a moment, her grin shifts into something predatory, and her posture loosens, hips swaying; without being told, Boone falls into step behind her.

Courier approaches a group of men in suits; the one in the middle, a checkered suit. Benny, Boone realizes, and schools his expression into something neutral - what Courier calls his ‘bodyguard face.’ As they approach, Benny’s expression morphs into one of panic, and Boone sits back to watch, curious as to how famously-unpredictable Courier is going to handle this.

Apparently with what she calls the ‘Black Widow’ approach. She plays Benny like a fiddle, getting him to invite both herself and Boone up to his suite - “He’s my bodyguard,“ she’d giggled, slapping Benny playfully in the arm when he’d said something insinuating that the two of then could share Courier. “I need him to make sure you don’t try to put me in another grave.” - and she was all but hanging off of Benny as the leader of the Chairmen led them over to the elevators. Boone stays quiet, waiting for a signal from Courier- that doesn’t come. She gives him a meaningful wink, but gestures for him to wait outside Benny’s door.

Boone tries to ignore the sounds coming fun the room behind him.

Benny’s dick barely makes up for his weird-ass comments, but he’s not the worst lay Courier’s ever had; she does find it pretty sad that a newly-reprogrammed robot was a better lay than a man who claimed to have so much experience. She waits for Benny to start to drift off before she abruptly rolls over top of him, straddling his hips. The movement draws a sleepy murmur from Benny, that changes to a confused “What?” when Courier grabs him aggressively by the face.

She knows she’s grinning pretty creepily, but makes no effort to tone it down as she says, “You know, you really should have checked to make sure I wasn’t breathing.” Understanding begins to dawn on Benny’s face and he starts to struggle far too late. “I won’t make the same mistake,” Courier continues, a deadly promise delivered the split second before she twists her hold viciously, a feral grin lighting her an expression in unholy glee when she hears the unmistakeable snap of Benny’s neck breaking. He chokes, giving one last gurgle, and then his body goes limp beneath hers. Courier makes good on her promise, double and even triple-checking that he’s well and truly dead before she gets off of the bed and goes to the front door - still naked - to wave Boone inside. “Start looking for anything useful.” Courier orders as she rifles through Benny’s pockets. “I want to know why this bastard wanted this chip, and what he had planned for it.”

Boone is very obviously Not Looking at Her as he begins to do as instructed, and Courier can’t help her amusement even as she gets dressed and joins Boone in the search. The sniper gripes about her lack of modesty as they systemically search the site, and Courier teases him right up until the moment they find Yes Man and begin interrogating the extremely helpful robot.

Yes Man leaves them with a lot to think about, and neither of them speak until they’re back in Freeside, in a room in the Atomic Wrangler. “There’s no way I’m giving Mr. House this chip, not until I’ve investigated everything,” Courier announces, and Bone barely represses a sigh.

“Of course,” he mutters. “Well, I hope you know I’ll keep watching your back - so long as you don’t pull a stunt like tonight’s again.”

Courier smirks. “Aw, Boone - are you jealous?” she coos, clearly teasing, and Boone rolls his eyes, pointedly Not Thinking about the way his cock had hardened, an awful lot of blood rushing south when he’d heard bits and pieces of Courier’s performance. Any man would have reacted the same; it was a perfectly natural response to the kinds of noises she’d been making.

“Let’s just go to sleep.” he says, shedding the bulkiest bits of his armor before climbing into one side of the only bed in the room. Because of course this had been the only one available.

Courier snickers, sounding way too satisfied with herself as she follows his lead.

“Don’t worry,” she says, blowing out the light before climbing into the bed herself. “I’m not going to throw myself at you. You ever want more than what we got now, you’ll have to make the first move.” With that, Courier falls silent, and seemingly asleep as well, leaving Boone staring up at the pockmarked ceiling and wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into, and why his heat was racing.

[mycatshuman]

A Lovely Black Orchid

This is for @the-officially-kat 's lovely Addams Family Sanders Sides au. Seriously, like that au is just *chefs kiss* if you want to see more of this au, go check out their blog and bask in the adorableness.

Art by @the-officially-Kat and Coloring by me.

Masterlist | More to this series

Thank you to @icequeenoriginal for reading through this for me!

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Roman and Virgil Addams were in the greenhouse room of their hauntingly gorgeous home as they went about their business. Virgil was tending to his plants while Roman was playing a game of solitaire. Virgil took great pride in his plants. His favorite being Cleopatra. Cleopatra was a carnivorous African Strangler. Virgil smiled as he finished tending to her. She seemed to like the chicken leg he had given her. He would have to make note of that. He moved on to his patch of poison ivy, checking to make sure it was properly growing. He then moved on to a pot from which sprouted a thick, garland type plant. His newest experiment. He picked the pot up and turned to his husband. "Roman," he started. "Tell me, how does my plant look to you?" 

Roman looked over and gasped, his hand flying to the breast of his crimson, gold, and black pinstripe suit. "I don't see a plant," he began as he stared at Virgil. "I see a rare flower, you." Virgil smiled mysteriously, his best impression of the most famous dead person's smile of perhaps all time, Mona Lisa's. "My lovely black orchid." 

Virgil glanced down at his plant as a slight blush flushed his pale face. "Oh, Roman, do you really think so?" 

"I know so!" Roman replied as he stepped closer. 

Virgil glanced up at Roman before sighing. "Why Roman, could you look at my plant for me, I think it looks absolutely dark, what do you think?" 

Roman looked down and inspected the plant. "I agree. Although nothing could be as dark as you, with your absolutely dashing suit. Tell me, is that shade perhaps Midnight's Gloom?" 

Virgil set his plant down and inspected his own attire. "Oh, this?" He started. "This is Grim Reapers' Robes."

"May I say it looks absolutely stunning on you, Mi Amor."  

"Merci."

"Verge!" Roman exclaimed as an irresistible urge zapped up his body like lightning. "That's French!" 

Virgil raised an eyebrow as he smiled that smile of his once again. "Oui."

"You know what that does to me!" Roman exclaimed as he quickly pulled Virgil's hand up to place a frantic kiss upon the pale skin before moving up as if to kiss every inch of Virgil's arm. Virgil smiled fondly at his husband. Soon, Roman stopped kissing Virgil's arm and actually kissed his lips instead. The two quickly melted into each other as they always have. Content with their life and maybe craving a little more darkness. Maybe they would send they would have a family vacation at an asylum for a few days. 

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Everything taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws @odette-ssbu

[lonbergwrites]

Reader, Come Home - a review

I recently took to Goodreads with something of a rant about a book I just finished called - Reader, Come Home - by Maryanne Wolf.

I do not recommend this book.

I actually disliked it so much in fact – thought it was so biased and self-righteously written – that I was driven to create a special “not-recommended” tab for my bookshelf on Goodreads.

I try to give authors a lot of room. I am trying to write myself - as you knowing coming to this website - and I know how difficult and personal it is. But this book is something else. Something that deserves to not be read. Something that deserves to go away. As of today, I’ve read 90 book so far in 2019. There are 216 total books on my Goodreads profile listed as read or currently reading. Of all of these books, I’ve only deemed 6 to be “not-recommended.” That means that after going over all the books I’ve read since 2014 when I started keeping track, I could only come up with six that really had no redeeming value. Let me put this into more perspective: I didn’t even include Left Behind on this list. That is a truly terrible book – it is terribly written, has terrible plotting and characterization, and utilizes and promotes terrible theology. It is the book I use to make fun of bad books. In fact, I think a lot of it is bad for a person to read because of both the dread and the self-righteousness it inspires in its target market, the “true believers” of the Evangelical far right.

All of that said, that book did give me an insight into a former friend I grew up with, and without it, I would have far less empathy (and actual sympathy) for people of this persuasion. So even Left Behind has its merits in the right context, and isn’t on this list. That’s saying something. I dislike Reader, Come Home that much.

I’m going to start my actual review with “letter four” (her book is divided up into eight ‘letters’ she is writing to ‘dear reader’) from the middle of this book. Letter four is truly, deeply bad. This author’s elitism cannot be excused. It all started earlier as she constantly addresses the reader with “we, the expert readers” know/believe/trust/expect/etc. I understand ingratiating yourself with your audience, but this author’s judgmental tone was a lot to take, especially when it came over and over again in quick progression. She presents the fact that people – on average – now read about 100k words a day. Let that sink in. That’s a good-sized novel a day! That number is way up, she says, and is in fact more than people have ever read before. But she also argues that it is a bad thing because all of that readings doesn’t come in huge, dense passages that you have to spend hours decoding. She doesn’t concede the fact that your average person has never read that way from today through time in memoriam. The very fact that people are reading that much means that people are more literate than ever, even if it isn’t deep reading. There are stats out there today that say that the average person consumes more information on a single day than an educated person from the middle ages consumed in a year. It is such a culturally biased idea to think that the average person, who is indeed reading more than at any time in history, is going to be worse because the top 1% of readers might be reading somewhat less complicated materials. She has no idea what an average reader is, clearly, as she panders to her “expert readers.” She does (what she herself calls) an unscientific study of three best-selling novels from today, and three from a century ago – all of which are on her bookshelf at home. She says she doesn’t know about how to evaluate them, and shouldn’t draw conclusions, and then after skimming them draws the conclusion that new novels have shorter sentences and less hard-to-understand thoughts and phrases, and that is bad. She also neglects to say anything about what “best seller” constitutes sales- and readership-wise, and who could read/afford books in those disparate time periods. Once again, she is only considering the very most literate of people from 100 years ago, and comparing them to your average reader today. Here is a passage from the book that she believes exemplifies good writing: “Italo Calvino wrote about this a single, unalterable sentence: ‘For the prose writer, success consists in felicity of verbal expression, which every so often may result from a quick flash of inspiration, but as a rule involves a patient search for the mos juste for the sentence in which every word is unalterable, the most effective marriage of sound and concepts, concise, concentrated, and memorable.’” Let’s be clear on something here: this sentence isn’t concise. It isn’t concentrated. It isn’t memorable. It is written in such a way as to be dense for denseness’s sake. It actually disproves her point about “good” writing and in fact exemplifies some of the problems with older writing in the minds of the modern reader: it is dry, boring, and purposefully confusing. She has a long passage where she talks about her (former) favorite novel – a dry, byzantine Pulitzer prize winner from decades ago, where long passages are nothing more than meditations of monks as they continually ascend and descend stairs. She chastises herself for not liking it – not being able to read it in fact – in a (once again unscientific and yet conclusion-rich) study of her own making decades after she read it for the first time. She said she didn’t have the patience for it because of all the screen reading she does. Well, maybe. But maybe it was also a favorite book because of the prestige it held at the time for a student trying to get a terminal degree and justify her reading to herself. Also: reading tastes change with the times and some things don’t age well. But it was her fault for no longer having the patience… to me, this whole pursuit seemed distasteful as well as elitist. She seems to be trying to grapple with her own elitism in the following passage: ‘Some of you, no doubt, will think that I protest too much, and that only the elite parts of any population will miss the shelves of older books and poems that pass out of favor with clockwork regularity age after age, generation after generation. But it the very opposite of elitism that propels my worries. I write this book and conduct my research today only because of the dedication of my parents and of a few deeply committed teachers from The School Sisters of Notre Dame in a two room eight grade school house gave me a reason as a child to read the great literature of the past. Only those books prepared me not to leave the coal miners and farmers in my tiny Midwestern town, but to understand each of those still dear people, and the world outside of El Dorado, Illinois in whole new ways.’ First off, you were right, only the elite parts of society will care. Full stop. Second, if you have to point out you are not elitist and do so by saying you’re the very opposite, I would suggest you go back and really think about your motives, because more often than not, the lady *doth* protest too much. You cite your non-elitism by talking about a small school presumably with a low teacher to student ratio, dedicated teachers, literate parents (who were professionals), and the expectation of leaving everything behind for a better life in a better place. You say that only by reading were you able to understand the “still dear people” (who couldn’t possibly understand their town without reading Ulysses) you so smarmily smirk at in the rearview mirror. Gross. She says that kids these days are lacking a knowledge base. *Her* references are not being internalized anymore, and that makes her worry about her kids (who can code, but don’t know the literary references she expects in order to be considered educated by herself and the people who educated her). She says that “teachers” [citation needed] are mad because students don’t want to learn old books anymore (as if most students ever did). “Professors” are mad that their old popular classes can’t be taught anymore for lack of demand (boo-hoo, they have to work more and create a vital education experience for which they are being paid). My take on all of this is that in today’s world kids speak up and want interesting things to learn and aren’t automatons like the author’s generation was often expected to be. But probably the most ridiculous part of this letter is when she castigates herself for not writing perfectly in every office communication and every personal letter she writes. She castigates herself for not reading all the things like the New Yorker (which ‘actually matter’ in her own words) and instead reading journals and summations and noting things that she should probably read more thoroughly later, but probably won’t. She castigates herself for reading more now to be informed than immersed. Because unless it is hard to understand you can gain no value from it, I guess. I feel like this letter is just a letter in self-hate that she’s stapled onto the backs on those less-educated than she. OK Boomer. Letter Seven I find especially dubious as she cites a disproven study saying that children of poor or minority backgrounds hear far fewer words growing up. In fact it has been shown that this study is biased. Poor and minority parents keep quiet with a researcher sitting in their living room because they are afraid of being judged and having the researcher report something to CPS. Rich and white parents speak more verbosely in order to show off and prove themselves to the academics. If you take the researcher out of the home and install cameras/microphones, all of these differences disappear. This is institutional racism showing up in the original study. She is furthering institutional racism by citing this study. This is a recent book, and with this author using a biased and disproven study in her work makes me question anything else she has to say on the matter. Letter Eight is all politics and opinion. She talks about how (deep) reading is necessary to be a good citizen. She states, ‘We conflate information with knowledge, knowledge with wisdom with resulting diminution of all three.’ Good line. And I don’t disagree. She also says that we need to reeducate all citizens to process information vigorously across all media. Here in lies another thing that I don’t think she understands about herself, her motivations, and her writing. This obviously Boomer author (who in letter six was condemning a “Millennial mother” for being worried about reading to her kid, and not instinctively knowing what to do, but coming to her for help – I guess shame on you?) doesn’t realize that it isn’t the child’s fault that democracy is crumbling and people don’t have attention spans anymore. Boomers don’t seem able to handle TV (Fox News), let alone the internet (Breitbart). They were the ones always complaining about how those mediums would rot your brain, and now they are the ones who are destroying democracy and believing every conspiracy theory. I truly believe it takes a generation or two to understand what to do with new technology – and teach the kids a generation or two later – in order to deal with “new” technology. She is so hopped up on this because she and her generation are often unable to make the jump successfully. And like any Boomer, she says that, ‘this is our generation’s hinge moment.’ Whose, now? Who is this book meant for? It is meant for the (I’d argue) overly-educated, self-righteous, non-reflective, panicking, ageing generation of people on the out, who do not understand the world anymore and are terrified and yet still narcissistically myopic. And believe that everything they’ve done and experienced is the only possible way to live life. And they damn will enforce it exactly like that on every generation to come. Ever. Her pièce de résistance in bad thinking is her final thoughts on how to fix democracy. She says that we need to ‘recognize and acknowledge the capacity for reflective reasoning in those that disagree with us.’ This may sound great to her Boomer ears, but the problem with the opposition is some people are being purposefully ignorant and rely on the a priori rational of hard core right wing religion. It is counter to being a deep reader to argue that “everybody has a point that is valid.” It is apologist nonsense and shouldn’t be tolerated. It is the reason that we are in this mess. It is a failing of an older generation, not today’s children. Stop projecting this on to today’s children. She closes: ‘Readers are guardians’ - good readers like us, of course… so much self-aggrandizing bull. Good readers - good reading - is obviously important. But claiming that your skill will be society’s saving grace is oh so trite and pathetic. Her take away on how to lead a good reading life: Festina Lente, or hurry slowly. Well I will leave you instead with my own latin expression you could take a note of: quiquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.

There are a lot of books and articles (sorry if that isn’t deep enough reading for you) that contain anything of merit that this book might hold. But a lot of them come without the judgement, elitism, baggage, and extremely boring summary of how the brain reads (it is good, dense stuff I’m sure she loves – it is an instant sleep-inducer for the rest of us). Dear Reader, stay away.

~BPL

[newagesispage]

                                                                MAY   2019

PAGE RIB

 ***** Illinois pot growers say that if more licenses aren’t issued to growers, there could be a shortage if recreational weed is legalized. Studies show that medical cannabis demand is under reported. ** Support Senate Bill 7 to legalize recreational marijuana. It is the early stages and has not yet been fleshed out but the bare bones of it passed the committee 12-4. Let’s go!

*****With the presentation of the Peabody award, Rita Moreno will become the third PEGOT winner on May 18. She will join Barbra Streisand and Mike Nichols on that list.

***** Harvard and Yale text book writing U.S. rep in California, Katie Porter is really shaking up the congressional hearings. Go Go Go!!

***** Could Illinois Governor J.B. Pritzker have a way of keeping Trump off the ballot? Are the Dems getting as creative as the GOP?  Illinois is looking into forcing candidates to show the last 10 years of their tax returns or their name will not appear on the ballot.

***** Michael Shannon and Audra McDonald are the newest to play Frankie and Johnny on Broadway.

***** Watching the clueless old white politicians on the Sunday morning shows (yea, you John Barraso) makes me a little queasy. ** And I get so tired of the talking heads speaking for the ‘middle of the country’.  Most of the people I know care deeply about the Mueller report. Who the fuck are they talking about? Talk about special rules for our rich President as we remember Nixon and the Clintons. Why should Scary Clown 45 get such great treatment?  I am always hearing about the ‘middle of the country’ worrying about feeding our families and fixing our cars and not knowing or caring about issues in Washington. It is true that so many are living the paycheck to paycheck dream and are burdened with health care and other emergencies they can’t afford but they pay attention to the political problems of this country too. Since citizens don’t have the time or the power or money to be in Washington, they rely on those they voted for to keep each other in line.  Quit letting the shady shit go on. Have some backbone and do not let things slide. Simple rule: DO WHAT IS RIGHT.

***** Word is that Somebody paid off Brett Kavanaugh’s $92,000 country club fees, $200,000 credit card debt and 1.2 mil mortage. Seems like someone might own him.

***** Maria Butina was sentenced to 18 months.

***** The Man in the High Castle will end after season 4.

***** I love the way Abigail Disney is standing up to CEO’s.  The points she makes are ones that the corporation heads always hope you won’t think about. Shouldn’t employees be treated fairly? If a CEO is motivated by their own bonus they are far more likely to overlook things like environmental damage, human rights violations and worker’s rights. Nobel prize winning economist Joseph Stiglitz agrees.

***** When will the press (local and worldwide), give equal exposure to ALL candidates that run for office, especially President? We want to be informed. I do research but not everybody does and needs it to be easily accessible. Sometimes you have to spoon feed but why is it so hard to be fair? Enough with the agendas!!! There also needs to be more places to look for local issues. I hear so many citizens that tell me they don’t know what will be on the ballot. The info can be hard to find but USA Facts helps. Check it out!

***** Four days after confirmation, secretary of interior, David Bernhardt is under investigation for ethical misconduct.

***** Rod Rosenstein is out! His good bye included praise for the Pres and thanking him for all the personal conversations!! What He is the Deputy AG. What??

***** Jordan Klepper did a great gag on comedy central with the Clintons about Hil doing the audio book of the Mueller report. Yes!!

***** The Trumps are suing Deutsche bank and Capital One so they won’t turn over financial records to congress. Aren’t these actions obstruction of congress?

***** Indivisible is getting voters and candidates to sign a pledge to make the primary constructive and support the ultimate democratic winner.

***** Thank you to Tricia Newbold who is the WH whistle blower who let us know about Trump overriding security clearances. Rumor is that to punish her they took advantage of her physical limitations and purposely put files high and out of her reach. Wow! That is right out of high school.

***** Julian Assange was taken into custody and it seems he has turned into some sort of odd Howard Hughes character.

***** Hollywood is putting on a fundraiser for Mayor Pete. The event will be co-hosted by Ryan Murphy and hubby David Miller, Matt Bomer, Jess Cagle and hubby Matt Whitney and Billy Eichner among others. Murphy also hosted Kamala Harris on April 12. Some of Pete’s major donors have been Ryan Reynolds, Jane Lynch, Mandy Moore, Bradley Whitford and James Murdoch.

***** The Webby awards have been announced. Some winners are Billy on the Street, James Corden, Schitt’s Creek, Pod Save the People and Jimmy Kimmel’s mean tweets. Best music video went to Donald Glover for This is America and The Daily won for its onald J. Trump presidential twitter library.

***** Better Call Saul will call it quits after season 6.

***** Charlize Theron and Seth Rogan star in Long Shot, a political rom com out May 3.

*****& Sara Gilbert joins season 3 of Atypical!!!!!

***** Mushroom season is here and it looks like our friend Kavin is sure bringing ‘em home.

***** The shower toga looks like a great get for the festival scene.

***** Barry has been picked up for season 3. Hell yea!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11

***** The state of Georgia wants to make any embryo a fully legalized citizen. An embryo would count on taxes and be able to receive child support.

***** Please let the immigrant children out of their cages!

***** Stacey Abrams has a best seller, Lead from the Outside.

***** Did Harper Lee write ‘The Reverand?’ Oh how I wish I knew!!

***** When will the Bob Geldof story make it to the big screen and can Pete Davidson play him please??

***** Tuca and Bertie from Netflix looks awesome. It has to be good with stars Ali Wong and Tiffany Haddish!!

***** John Lithgow is about to release a book with his poetry about the President which will carry the title of his pet name (everybody seems to have one for Trump), Dumpty.

***** The Sultan of Brunei owns the Hotel Bel-Air in L.A. and the Beverly Hills Hotel. His country will now stone gay people to death. BOYCOTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*****

***** Tim Ryan is running for President.

***** Seth Moulton is running for President.

***** Joe Biden is running for President.

***** What the hell is happening to Steak ‘n Shake??

***** What the hell is the matter with Senator Mike Lee? He makes a ridiculous presentation with a flying Reagan and all and now he says that babies may be the answer to climate change. He says we need to be free and develop. What is this gut talking about? Why are people like this getting into office?

***** There is a new podcast called Analysis of a killer.

***** Marianne Williamson is running for President.

***** Eric Swalwell is running for President.

***** The notion that Trumps twitter is like a national nanny cam makes perfect sense.

***** Can’t wait to read Seth Abramson’s, Proof of collusion.

***** The question isn’t really collusion. The redacted Mueller report is out and we now see why the team itself did not draw conclusions. All the evidence is there and a sitting President can’t be indicted…. Or can he? There are, however, multiple examples of corruption.  It didn’t cost as much as other independent counsel reports because of all the fines that were charged to Manafort and others pretty much paid for it. Mueller called and wrote to Attorney General Barr and told him he created confusion with his memo and that it didn’t really tell the story.

***** In about 12 years Mueller Probe will be a cool name for a band. –Sarah Silverman

***** Federal appellate judge Maryanne Trump Barry, sister of the President has officially retired at age 82. She was put on the U.S. court of appeals by Bill Clinton. And with that, so ends the investigation into her alleged violations of judicial conduct rules because of participation in fraudulent tax schemes with her siblings in the 90’s.

***** I loved the mash up of Trevor Noah taking over the chair and interviewing Colbert on the Late Show.

***** Oliver North and Wayne LaPierre have been fighting amongst themselves at the NRA. Blackmail? Was North trying to get LaPierre out? The board is standing by the VP while North seems aligned with a public relations firm that some board members disagree with. There are many financial questions as  well. Once again the NRA held its annual convention which does not allow guns. At the end of April North was forced out

***** The Universe is about a billion years younger than we thought according to astronomer Adam Riess. This is causing experts to look into rethinking dark energy and dark matter. Total mind blow!!!

***** People have taken to wearing Free Britney T’s. Her fans held a protest in L.A. to free her from the facility they believe she was forced into.

***** It seems fads lately are all about internet speak like. “felt cute ….” And etc. like that.

***** They are working on a Beauty and the Beast themed bar in Florida.

***** Seymour, Indiana recently uncovered pieces of a mastodon.

***** Mia Farrow has a cute little blue headed bird that visits here every morning. Is it Sinatra?

***** U go Grace Jones, showing us how to do it at 70!!!!!!

***** J Lo and Owen Wilson will star in Marry Me about a pop star who marries a random man in the crowd.

***** Magic Johnson resigned as President of the Lakers. The Owner and general manager were supposedly bad mouthing him.

***** The sweetest moment in the inductions on this year’s rock and roll hall of fame was the love shown for Rick Allen, the drummer for Def Leppard.

***** So twice as many companies don’t pay taxes now thanks to all the tax cuts. Some even get refunds. Scary Clown sure is making it work for the big guys!!

***** Former President of Peru, Alan Garcia shot himself before his arrest for corruption.

***** Wendy Williams and Howard Stern seem to be having a little war of words. She claims he has gone Hollywood and he called her a cunt. She has filed for divorce from this apparently nasty hubby of hers. I thought I heard her say just weeks ago that they were fine.

***** Joel McHale is in the new season of Santa Clarita Diet.

***** Has anybody checked out John Bouvier Kennedy Schlossberg  ( Wow! Talk about getting the whole treatment) lately ? John F’s only grandson, better known as Jack Schlossberg , has a bright future ahead.

***** Lori Lightfoot has been elected the first black, openly gay woman as Mayor of Chicago.

***** Dave Tilley beat out John McCarty, who passed away in February, to become Spring Bay, Il. Village President.

*****Britney Spears’ Father is in ill health and Britney checked into a facility.

***** Zachary Quinto stars in the new NOS4A2.

***** It’s funny to me that when a true crime story hour begins, you never hear that he (cuz 9 times out of 10 it is the male spouse who is the culprit), was an atheist or an agnostic. No, it is always that he or the family attended church regularly or that they were close to God. This is just a pattern I have observed, totally my own thoughts.  Sometimes it gets way outer limits with the Fathers who sort of run their own cult out of the house. Of course this is not a blanket statement for we see wonderful things being done in the name of the Lord.  It just seems like there is a fine line where religion can be used as a way to hold their power and hide secrets. JS

***** Herman Cain and or Stephen Moore on the Federal regulatory board?  Well, Herman Cain dropped out.

***** Andrew Yang is running for President. Join the Yang Gang!! He wants to free all prisoners with non -violent marijuana offenses, free healthcare for all and every adult gets $1000.00 a month.

***** The Criminal Minds cast is ending their run. I think they should get together one more time and do a sort of Agatha Christie whodunit.

***** Secretary of Homeland security, Kirstjen Nielsen is out.

***** Acting ICE director, Ron Vitiello is out.

***** Dislike the elite? Nobody is more elite that Trump. How do so many people not get that?

***** Every woman should be able to tell her truth and who knows what makes a person uncomfortable but I think Joe Biden is going thru some bullshit. I don’t agree with everything he has done thru the years but I trust Biden and think he would be a great President.  I do think, however that his moment has passed.

***** Check out the behind the scenes book of Washington, ‘The Hill to die on’ by Jake Sherman and Anna Palmer. More proof that Trump just looks at everything as just a big show with his quote,“ There are ratings for everything.”

***** The Profiles in Courage award this year goes to Nancy Pelosi.

***** I have seen the pharmaceutical reps while at some recent Dr.visits, buying elaborate catered affairs for the medical staff.  It is a weekly thing. They sure have some money to throw around. No wonder everybody is hooked on something.

***** Real National emergencies: The electoral college, the discrepancies between the rich and the poor which makes it impossible to achieve the American dream, climate change and healthcare.

***** The co- founder of Home Depot, Ken Langone has seen to it that medical school students at NYU are given free tuition always. YEOW!!

***** We should take a lesson from Sudan. They have ousted President Omar al-Bashir, the butcher of Dafur. The protests have led to his indictment for genocide and crimes against humanity.

***** We never stop learning: Archaeologists have discovered an extinct human species they have never known in the Phillipines that they are calling homo luzonensis.

***** Is Cody Fern teasing us on Instagram about season 9 of American Horror Story:1984?

***** Rumple Buttercup by Matthew Gray Gubler hit #1 on the NY Times bestseller list.

***** As we celebrate the 25th anniversary of Tarantino’s Palme d’or win in Cannes, he is busy editing Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. It isn’t clear if he’ll get the film to this year’s event. Word is coming out that it is fantastic though.

***** I am a little bit sickened that the worst cooks show actually has Jimmie Walker and Tonya Harding on the same show.  Can’t the world find something better for a talent like Walker?? Come on!!

***** Is Stephen Miller and Fox news really running this country?

***** R.I.P. Mildred Mercy Tomes, Christine Marie Rinehart, Sen. Ernest Hollings, Dan Robbins, Shag Sheckler, Charles Van Doren, Georgia Engel, victims of the Sri Lanka shrine and hotel bombings, Lyra Mckee, David Brion Davis, MyLecia Naylor, Shelley Lazar, Mark Medoff, Warren Adler , Lori Kaye, John Singleton, victims of the University of North Carolina shooting and Ken Kercheval.