#and sometimes it’s ‘we’re all mentally ill bitch. get up.’

[sleevebuscemii]

you know. louis always choosing lestat, louis actually being genuinely incapable of fully choosing someone else over him, or letting him go, is why i think they have to be together but it’s also crazy because, as much of it IS an actual deep love from louis and it is a romance that’s like a cockroach in a nuclear war, it’s not actually out of love. or just love. like so much of louis’ attachment to lestat is an Attachment and not a love (even tho the love is there!!). lestat was there for him after a hugely fucked up time in his life (not even there to help through it necessarily just like. physically there.) lestat was his first, which to louis de repressed du catholic guilt is a big fucking deal, not just his first time or his first relationship with a man, but it’s his first actual acknowledgment and surrender to his sexuality. not to mention being with lestat means he burnt every other bridge he had, he’s isolated from friends and family and society and even when he tried to build a new one (claudia), he ended up burning that one too so that all that’s left is always lestat. but the crazy thing. the craaaaaaaziest thing. is that lestat didn’t even. do this on purpose. lestat is a bitch and liar and a monster and a manipulator but unfortunately!!!! he did not mastermind getting louis under these specific circumstances to keep him bound to him forever this bitch l i t e r a l l y. just got lucky. lestat didn’t kill paul and he didn’t force louis to stop talking to his family (negotiable but. still.) and he didn’t even ask louis not to kill him in fact. i bet he really truly thought louis would do it, that louis could do it, that he’d kill him. because even he doesn’t know the power he has over louis. the same way claudia didn’t. it’s literally only louis who knows just how fucking fucked he is with his attachment to lestat and he carries that shit around like an addict who hid a last bottle of pills in his drywall before he got clean. like he knows he’s gonna choose lestat. he’s with armand and he knows this. he’s shit talking that man to daniel 12 hours a day knowing this. its fucking insane because he knows and WE KNOW. WE FUCKING KNOW. THAT. if lestat ever walks into the fucking room. its fucking over. louis’ gonna walk out that room with him. he’s gonna punch a fucking hole in his wall and rummage through the broken drywall and grab that bottle and pop a fucking pill. go to fucking therapy mon cher. a THOUSAND sessions of emdr mon CHER.

[leaderwonim]

BUT WHY? WHY NOT.

pairing. ghostface!park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary. in a sudden turn of events, you ask with shaky tears why your boyfriend, park sunghoon, is doing what he’s doing. the answer he gives you is more terrifying than the whole situation itself.

warnings. kinda suggestive at some parts, vivid descriptions of killing, mentions of mental illness, hurt no comfort, cursing, one of the characters has a gun

tagging baes @saursoob @moons-v @wonniestars

recommended playlist. sometimes & race by alex g

“You know I love you and I’d never do anything to harm you, right?”

Park Sunghoon always loved to say that to you, especially when you separated your mouth from his and you’d give him those eyes that told him you’d do anything for him.

You were just so easy. Easy prey to catch for big strong intimidating Park Sunghoon. Easy prey to feast upon.

He was a gentleman. Looking back at the past 7 months of your relationships, you never once remembered having to open a door handle by yourself. His hand was already there before you could even touch the metal knob.

“What boyfriend would I be if I let you open doors all by yourself?” He’d say with an eyebrow raise and a smirk.

Even though he was clearly teasing you, you felt giddy that you had such a great boyfriend like him.

You just wish you saw the signs sooner.

🫀

The first red flag was how twitchy Sunghoon would get at random times. Sure, it was normal for Sunghoon to be a bit shy—even awkward—but the sudden twitchiness didn’t go unnoticed by you. It was almost if he was uncomfortable in his own skin, desperate to get out.

But Park Sunghoon was perfect. He was the perfect boyfriend, the perfect son, and the perfect boy, there was nothing wrong with him, right?

Right.

“I don’t know,” Sana says as she shakes her head, clearly frightened by what’s happening. “I feel like someone is stalking us.”

Your friend group collectively starts comforting her, all besides your boyfriend who sat next to you with a frown.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you say, rubbing Sana’s hands comfortingly. “Right Hoonie?”

“Yeah.” If there’s another thing about your boyfriend, he’s good at reassuring people. “Maybe you’re overthinking Sana? It’s okay, you’re safe with us.”

“He’s right.” Hyoseop, one of your other friends, chimes in. “Besides San, you can’t let this scary moment dictate your life!“

Sana nods solemnly. “I guess. Are we still on that camping trip this weekend?”

“Hell yeah we are!” Your friend group cheers, which is more than enough to make Sana feel better about the whole situation.

🫀

“Sleeping tents?”

“Check.”

“Flashlights?”

“Check.”

“Batteries?”

“Check.”

“Tooth—”

“Baby.” Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, putting his chin on your shoulder. “I promise we have everything, let’s go before we’re late and Eunae makes a big deal about it.”

You giggle, turning around to give him a proper hug. He smelt exactly like the vanilla scented candles you loved so much.

“You’re right, I don’t want Eunae on our asses in the middle of the woods.”

Sunghoon drives the both of you in his green shiny Jeep, the one his dad had bought him last month. The camp site was about 2 hours from your house, so you plugged your headphones in, leaning against the window as one of Sunghoon’s hands comes to hold your thigh.

“Wake up sleepyhead.” He says, flicking your forehead which makes you jolt from your sleep.

“Yah Hoonie! Don’t do that,” your cheeks puff out in annoyance, and your boyfriend can’t help but laugh, pinching it between his thumb and index finger.

“I texted Hyoseop, he says they’re already all here.” Sunghoon opens up the trunk, pulling out all your stuff with a grunt. “Jesus, it’s just 2 nights and we’re packing like we’re moving here or something.”

You roll your eyes, “we need to be as prepared as possible! I don’t even like camping, but Eunae insisted.”

“Well Eunae’s a bitch.”

You slap his arm, making the boy jump. “Hoon! You can’t say that out loud.”

“You’re thinking it too baby.” He swings his heavy duffle over one of his shoulders, his other arm holding the gigantic tent you guys had bought to share for the 2 nights.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t just put all your things in our big backpack.” You say, already feeling out of breath as you guys make your way to the site. “You don’t even have that much clothes anyway Hoonie.”

“Just wanted my own bag, that’s all.” He smiles. “Plus, the backpack is already extra heavy with all your stuff.”

You whine at his words, making him chuckle.

“Y/N! Sunghoon!” The voice of Inyoup, Hyoseop’s brother, echoes through the area. “You made it!”

“Course we did.” Sunghoon dabs up the boy, which leaves you to say hi to Eunae and Jihyun.

“Where’s Sana?” You ask, not seeing the familiar ginger anywhere in sight.

Jihyun pulls out her phone, checking Sana’s location. “She should be here by 7, said she’s running a little late because of boyfriend things.”

Jihyun sends the group a wiggle of the eyebrows, which stirs up laughter and a gross! from Inyoup.

“7 is gonna be so dark though, I’ll make sure to go fetch her.” Hyoseop says. “Now c’mon, let’s get a bonfire settled!”

🫀

Night time rolls around quicker than expected, the sky above already clearing out with the few stars being the only source of light in the surrounding campsite.

“Are you cold?” Sunghoon asks, pulling you closer to his side as all of you sit on the pieces of wood in front of the fire.

“I’m better now with you generating all this heat.” You joke, digging yourself closer into his side. “Actually, did you bring any extra coats Hoon?”

He doesn’t really hear your question, too engrossed in whatever horror story Jihyun’s telling the group.

“Yeah yeah.” He says, waving you off.

You take yourself out of his hold, going over to your tent. Honestly, it was a mess, but you were able to make out Sunghoon’s filled to the brim duffle bag. You open it, trying to scuffle through for something warm to wear.

“Ah shit,” you whisper, taking your cut finger to your mouth before examining the cut clearer. “What the hell?”

You uncover the jacket that was covering whatever sharp object that had sliced through your finger earlier.

It was a long sharp knife.

Where did your boyfriend get this? You hadn’t seen a knife like this around in your house, and more importantly, why?

It’s probably for precaution. Your brain tells you. Sunghoon is always so careful, he probably wants it to be safe incase any wild animals come.

So you ignore the knife, placing it back inside Sunghoon’s duffle. You place his jacket and make your way outside.

“It’s already 6:50, maybe we should go pick up Sana now.” You say, blowing air into your hands since it was starting to freeze.

“Oh shit, I’m cooking right now.” Hyoseop looks at the grill he’s currently grilling meat on and then back to the group. “Can someone else go get her? Preferably a guy, we shouldn’t let the girls walk out this dark.”

“I’ll go get her.” Sunghoon offers. “Let me just put on another layer really quick.”

You take a seat next to Inyoup, sipping on a glass bottle of Coca Cola.

“You think we can curl our hair with these like Olivia Rodrigo said in her song?” Jihyun jokes, raising her empty bottle up into the air. “I’m gonna try it.”

“You go do that.” Eunae scoffs, clearly unimpressed with the girl.

🫀

It takes approximately about 25 minutes for you and the group to start worrying, not seeing Sana or Sunghoon in sight.

“The parking isn’t that far right? They should’ve been here 5 minutes ago.” Hyoseop says, setting the silver plate of food onto one of the wooden logs near the grill.

“No yeah, I’m getting worried.” Jihyun stands up, “I’m gonna get a flashlight and look for them at this point.”

Jihyun makes her way to the tent she shares with Eunae, which was right across from yours.

“Shit shit shit,” she mumbles, her hands rummaging through the messy tent. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, quickly running over. “Jihyun, what’s wrong?”

“Some animal might’ve came in earlier and ruined our things.” Jihyun places a hand on her forehead, clearly stressed about the whole ordeal. “Please tell me there’s still a flashlight.”

She checks through her and Eunae’s bag, only to find everything but a flashlight.

“It’s okay Ji, me and Hoon have a few in our tent.” You reassure her, which makes the girl feel a bit better.

“Sunghoon’s back!”

Inyoup’s announcement makes you practically bolt out of Jihyun’s tent right away.

“Hoon!” You rush over to him, cupping his face. “Why’d you take so long? Where’s Sana?”

He gently peels your hand off, looking back at the group with a smile. “She says she forgot her toothbrush on the way and she’s gonna drive to the nearest CVS. Should be back in 20 minutes.”

The rest of the group seems to buy Sunghoon’s words, all except Eunae.

“Well why did you take so long then, Sunghoon?”

“Oh fuck off Eunae.” Inyoup exclaims. “It’s too dark right now for you to start an argument.”

Eunae scoffs. “You know what? Fine. I’m gonna take a dip in the lake, I don’t want to be near any of you right now.”

When she’s finally gone, Inyoup whistles. “I still don’t know why we’re all friends with her when she makes everything miserable.”

“Let’s just calm down.” As usual, your boyfriend is the mediator, which makes you smile and lean into his side.

“You can’t be worrying me like that Hoon!” You groan, hitting him in the chest jokingly. “Had me thinking you were lost.”

“Baby you know me,” he grins. “I’m great at navigating in the night time.”

He suddenly pulls away, “ah, I’m so hot from all the walking. I’m gonna go dip my legs in the lake for a bit.”

“Okay,” you give him a peck on the cheek. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“You can come if you want baby.” He looks down to make direct eye contact. “I know Hyoseop just made beef. You wanna eat that first and meet me later?”

You think about it a second before nodding, placing one last kiss on his face. “You’re right. I’ll see you in a bit Hoonie.”

🫀

Sunghoon sighs in relief, finally glad to have you off his back for a while.

He takes out the familiar black suit and mask, the one that is seen so many times in the scream franchise. The ghostface mask and suit.

He places it over his body, the mask fitting his face so perfectly that he’s in awe.

He already knows his first victim.

Choi fucking Eunae.

God, did she annoy him. Always getting into petty disagreements, always making a ruckus out of nothing. And tonight? The way she accused him so adamantly, the way her eyes crinkled on disgust as she looked at him.

He had to get rid of her.

“Surprise Eunae.”

Eunae’s arms are no use to Sunghoon’s muscular ones that’s wrapped around her throat.

“Help!” Eunae tries to scream, but it only comes out squeaky and inaudible.

“Poor little helpless Eunae,” Sunghoon taunts. “Taking a dip in the lake to cool her nerves because she just can’t help her silly little thoughts in her head.”

He points the sharp end of the knife directly at her throat, making a slight tear which lets blood flow down.

“Why are you doing this?” Eunae chokes up, tears already falling like a waterfall. “Sunghoon?”

She wouldn’t have known it was him because of the mask, but the voice taunting her earlier gave it all away.

“Goodnight Eunae.”

Sunghoon stabs the girl repeatedly until she stops squirming in his hold. Then, he lets go of the body, watching as it floated face down on the lake.

They’ll find her by next week, he thinks. The cops—of course. Not your friends, not you. You all would be dead by tomorrow morning before you even knew Eunae was missing.

“Aw man.” He frowns. “She got my gloves all bloody.”

🫀

Sunghoon knew you would come looking for him later, he just didn’t know when. Therefore, he knew he had to leave the premises immediately as to not be caught near Eunae’s body.

He already knew his next victims, anyway. The two brothers, Kang Hyoseop and Kang Inyoup.

He had already gotten rid of Sana, who, at the sight of him in the ghostface mask and suit, barfed all over the parking lot. He found it both amusing and fascinating—how the human mind could freak itself out so much to the point of physical sickness.

“Eunae! Is that you? Look, Hyoseop said I should apologize earlier for what I did, and although I don’t want to, he might be right.”

Maybe Sunghoon didn’t have to leave. Maybe Kang Inyoup showing up now was a sign from the universe.

He quickly makes his way behind one of the tall trees, which was enough to hide him but also enough to see Inyoup’s movements.

Inyoup goes towards the dock of the lake, “Eunae? Why the hell are you swimming like that?”

He giggles, not realizing how serious the situation was and that Choi Eunae had been dead for 10 minutes already.

Inyoup gets closer, his fingers gripping at Eunae’s arm. When he flips her over, he lets out a scream of terror, which has Sunghoon coming to put his hands over the boy’s mouth.

“What the fuck—” Inyoup cries out, eyes still not believing what they just witnessed. “What the..”

“It’s a real shame.” Sunghoon whispers in his ear, the knife he’s holding is dangerously close to Inyoup’s abdomen. “When Y/Nie first introduced me to the group, you were so welcoming and kind to me. You even opened up to me before Hyoseop.”

“Sunghoon?” Inyoup breathes out, and he can’t help but feel betrayal sink into his heart. “No, please, you can’t do this.”

“Didn’t you say you got that job offer in Osaka? Japan is beautiful.” Sunghoon takes a jab, which causes Inyoup to move forward in Sunghoon’s hold, groaning from the pain and impact. “It’s too bad you won’t ever step foot in Osaka.”

And he kills him. Drags Inyoup’s body into the lake, which floats along with Eunae’s.

“You can apologize to her in the afterlife.” Sunghoon shrugs, finding himself oh so funny.

“One Kang brother down, the next to go.”

🫀

Now Kang Hyoseop was no idiot. He knew his brother and Eunae had been gone for far too long, he knew Sunghoon had been gone for far too long. And Sana? She didn’t even come to the camping site like Sunghoon had confidently stated earlier.

“Hyoseop.” Sunghoon shows up behind him, only this time, the suit and mask are off.

“Sunghoon.” Hyoseop tries his best to give a sincere smile, but Sunghoon knows.

He knows.

“You didn’t have any food Sunghoon, you must be hungry.”

Sunghoon doesn’t know what Hyoseop’s playing at, but he’s already sick of the boy. His body feels itchy, and he has the urge to kill kill kill.

“Where’s Y/N and Jihyun?”

“Oh you know, at the lake. They needed to cool themselves off after such a hot dinner.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise, and he finds his itching fingers reaching for the knife that’s tucked behind him.

“Hyoseop.” He says.

“Yes Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon pins down the boy, which is a much harder struggle than Eunae or Inyoup. Hyoseop had been going to the gym, and the boy was no weakling when it came to fights.

“I fucking knew it.” Hyoseop spits at Sunghoon. “You were the common denominator. Always so secretive and weird around us. I knew it.”

He says that with such disgust that it has Sunghoon cackling, impressed with the guy beneath him.

“But you didn’t say anything Hyoseop? You just let yourself go on a camping trip with the one guy you knew had bad intentions?”

“Fuck you!” Hyoseop tries to kick Sunghoon off of him, but it only makes the boy on top press on him harder. “I wanted to be wrong you know. I wanted to be completely wrong about thinking you were some fucked up loser for the sake of Y/N. But God, you are even worse than that.”

Sunghoon leans closer to Hyoseop, their cheeks touching.

“See you in hell Hyoseop.”

Then all the struggling stops.

It’s so easy, Sunghoon thinks. He didn’t even have to take months to plan this all out, when Choi Eunae said she wanted to go on a camping trip, he knew it was the perfect opportunity to strike.

🫀

“We have to go.” Jihyun says, grabbing your arms.

You were busy crying, feeling disgusted and horrified at the two bodies of your close friends in the lake.

Who the hell had done this to them?

“Where’s Hoonie?” You cry out. “We have to get Hoonie.”

“We’ll find him.” Jihyun reassures you, but her brain says the opposite.

She didn’t want to find Sunghoon. Like Hyoseop, she had a weird feeling about your boyfriend from the get-go. She just didn’t have the guts to tell you.

“Y/N, shh.” Jihyun places her index finger against your lips. “You hear that?”

It’s the sound of a body dragging, and you could make out the silhouette of someone tall.

“I have a gun in my tent,” Jihyun whispers. “I have to go get it. Can you distract him?”

You nod timidly, feeling fear strike every nerve in your body.

You throw a big stick across to the lake, which makes a dipping sound that has the man turning.

Jihyun, who had been the star of the track team in her high school days, runs like she’s never ran before, almost tripping over her own foot.

The man drops the body, and starts getting closer to the lake, making your breath hitch.

You watch Jihyun in the tent, letting yourself let out a breath of relief when she shows you the small gun in her hand.

“Surprise!”

Suddenly, the man’s sights are no longer on the lake, but on you.

His ghostface mask bashes against your face, making you let out a whine of pain.

“Jihyun! Jihyun!” You scream.

Jihyun panics, her hands shakily try to position the gun so that it won’t hit you.

She shoots, her eyes closing from the shock after the bullet leaves the gun, making a loud sound.

The man who had a hold on you falls back, grunting in pain.

His arms are behind his back, trying desperately to keep his body sitting upright.

“That’s what you get fucker!” Jihyun shouts, running over to you and pulling you close to her side. “For what you did to our friends.”

You hesitantly walk to the man, who’s body was shaking. You take off his mask, only to reveal the one person you wished it wasn’t.

Park Sunghoon.

Your boyfriend.

“Sunghoon?” You sob out. “What? Why? Why? Why are you doing this?”

You’re practically shouting now, horrified at the thought of your boyfriend killing your own friends.

His mouth was dripping blood, and his body looks like it was spasming.

Still, he grins, eyes filled with something you can’t recognize. He has no remorse.

“Why not?”

Jihyun decides she’s had enough, pointing the gun directly at Sunghoon’s head.

His once shaking body crumples to the floor immediately, and you feel your knees buckling at the sight.

“Shhh,” Jihyun hugs you from behind, although she too is crying. “Let’s get out of here.”

It all starts to make sense now. The flashlights disappearing, the knife you found in Sunghoon’s duffle.

Although all of this is terrifying, his last words still rang in your ear.

Why not?

[palettepainter]

Incorrect cousin quotes!!

With all the cousin designs I have posted, time to make some quotes with them!

Liv/Zee/Penny/Lazer/Raph - me

Rand - @rottedbrainz

Gabe - @posies-and-bundles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lazer, trying their first ever cup of coffee: I am ENERGY! Rand, an avid coffee drinker, on their twelfth cup of the day: Someone slap me awake or I am literally going to fall into a coma in ten seconds.

.

Raph: I think Lazer is in trouble. Rand: Alright. Struggling to give a fuck, if I’m honest.

.

Raph: Thought I was meowing back at my cat for the past hour, but it was just me and Lazer meowing at each other from different rooms in the house.

.

Zee: Why did you kidnap Liv!?!?! Rand: Ah- um- well- the reason for that is, uhh... Zoot: Sometimes, we must work together towards a common goal. Zee: NOT TO KIDNAP PEOPLE!

.

*when a child starts crying in public* Zee: *tries to make the child laugh* Liv: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down* Raph: *gives detailed instructions to the parents* Lazer: *cries with the child* Penny: *ignores the child* Zoot: *is the reason why the child is crying*

.

Zee : *sighs* I have no friends... Rand: Rand: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

.

Rand: Alright, listen up you little shits. Rand: Not you Liv. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

.

Rand, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

.

Penny: What if people had food names and food had people names? Lazer: Hey, spaghetti, we’re having Penny for dinner. Gabe: What is wrong with you people? Raph: Shut up, chocolate.

.

Penny: So, what, now I'm just supposed to do anything Raph does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff? Gabe: If Raph were to jump off a cliff, they would've done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Raph jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff. Lazer: You jump off a cliff! Gabe: Gladly, provided Raph did first.

.

Raph: What’s it like being tall? Liv: Is it nice? Gabe: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? Penny: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

.

Gabe: Christmas is cancelled. Penny: You can't cancel a holiday. Gabe: Keep it up, Penny, and you'll lose New Year's too. Penny: What does that mean? Gabe: Raph, take New Year's away from Penny.

.

Liv: Aww, what's your dog's name? Rand: Spartacus. Liv, yelling to Gabe: TRY SPARTACUS! Gabe, on the computer: DIDN'T WORK! Rand: Liv: What's your favorite number?

.

Rand: Which way did Liv go? Gabe: Well, based on the direction of the wind, the broken sticks in the corner, and the slight disturbance in the dirt, I'd guess they went left. Rand: You could really figure it out from that? Gabe: No, you idiot, Liv sent me a text. See?

.

Penny: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness. Zee: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.

.

Liv: Try not to roll your eyes at me. Gabe: I don't have pupils.

.

Lazer: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant. Rand: Well, on a good day, I’m both

.

Lazer: Okay. Hypothetically speaking, how mad would you be if I burned a hot pocket so badly it could probably fall off a ten-story building and be completely fine? Rand: Lazer, what did you do? Lazer: Take a guess.

.

Raph: Make no mistake. Not only am I party rocking, but I am also in the house tonight. Penny: But are you shuffling? Raph: Everyday. Gabe: What language are you two speaking??

.

Gabe: Who wants to make fifty bucks? Raph: How? Gabe: I need someone to take the fall. Raph: What did you do? Gabe: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked. Penny, from the other room: Oh my god. Gabe: ... Penny: OH MY GOD! Raph: Make it a hundred. Gabe: Deal.

.

Raph: Regular soda is too sweet! Penny: Diet soda has a weird after taste! Raph: No! Ugh, oh my god. Diet soda is THE BEST! It doesn't have sugar! It's SPICY! Penny: It has other weird stuff in it! I'll take REGULAR sugar in my REGULAR soda! Raph: It's SO SWEET like it's a dessert though! Diet feels more like a drink! Penny: I'm going to physically attack you. Raph: Which is better, Gabe? Gabe: Oh, I usually drink water! Penny: Wha- NO! Raph: DISGUSTING!

.

Liv: So when are we gonna tell them? Zee: Just give them a minute. Gabe: *Pulling on a door that clearly says push*

.

Liv: Do you guys want to see a butterfly? Zee: Ooh, yes please! Gabe, with their laptop open: I'm not going to stop working to look at a stupid bug! Liv: It's not a bug though... Gabe: ... Zee: ... Gabe: Well I still don't want to see. Zee, realizing: Please don't throw- Liv: Whee! *throws a stick of butter*

[poisoned-peppermint]

The snow in the wizard of OZ was asbestos

More Dsmp Incorrect quotes

 ~~~~~~~

Skeppy: ‘I could fix him’ yeah well I could brush his hair and call him babygirl

~~~~~~~

Bad to skeppy: not only did I show you my boobs but I also showed you my mental illness.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Get you a man who doesn't question your bizarre, superhuman strength in the least, but instead simply says "Wow," as he watches you kick a man into the ceiling.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: How can someone say Bad is evil?? They’re the most precious soft little soul.

Bad *wiping blood of their face* Yeah I’m adorable!

~~~~~~~

Bad: VIBE CHECK *cups skeppys face and kisses him till he’s breathless*

~~~~~~~

Hannah: I get this weird feeling in my chest, every time I see you.

Tina:

Hannah:

Tina: Is it heartburn?

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: We can’t ibuprofen our way outa this one boys.

~~~~~~

Eret: So I’m sitting there….tears on my titties.

~~~~~~

Tubbo to Ranboo: I’m sorry I roasted you, I was trying to flirt.

~~~~~~

Tubbo*chokes on something* 

Ranboo: Jeez Tubbo don’t die on me!

Tubbo: Don’t tell me what to do, I’ll die whenever the hell I want!

~~~~~~

Bad: I’ve slept so little I can now officially smell colors.

Foolish: How are you still alive??!?

Bad: That’s the question I’ve been asking every day.

~~~~~~

Foolish: Be nice!!

Bad: I am!

Foolish: You threatened them with a knife!!

Bad: Well ya, but I didn’t stab them.

~~~~~~

*Ponk doing an eye exam on Bad*

Ponk: Your results aren’t good.

Bad: Can I see them

Ponk: Probably not

~~~~~~

Tommy: Girls are like strawberries. Sometimes they’re at the store.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Guess what??

Tubbo: We have a rabbit's nest in our back yard!

Ranboo: Ok.

Tubbo: Does nothing matter to you.

~~~~~~

Bad to Foolish: Thank you for sending assassins after me btw I really needed that. It meant alot to me.

~~~~~~

Tommy to Ranboo: If you didn’t want to be assimilated into my found family then you should have killed me when you had the chance

~~~~~~

Bad: Yeah I’m a false prophet but you believed me so whose fault is it really that we’re in this mess

~~~~~~

Skeppy to Bad: Whats up Girl, you look foreboding and malicious.

~~~~~~

Hannah: Do you like me?

Tina: Yes.

Hannah: Really? *pouts*

Tina:  You really think I would keep up with all your bullshit if I didn’t love you?

Hannah *blushing*: OMG you just said you love me.

Tina: We’ve been dating for three years

~~~~~~~

Skeppy to Bad: Damn Girl what do those claws do? Destroy? That's awsomeeee I love it.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy *hugs Bad from behind*

Bad: uh

Bad: hi?

Skeppy: Mine

~~~~~~~

Bad: What do I get if I win?

Skeppy: I don’t know. A kiss?

Bad: How will I reach you? Do I have to bend down?

Skeppy: Bitch, I will climb you.

~~~~~~~

Antfrost: what is love?

Bad: an emotional minefield

Ponk: a neurochemical reaction

Hannah: BABY DONT HURT ME-

~~~~~~~

Bad: Skeppy! This soup is flaccid!

Skeppy: LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?!

~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

I’m open to suggestions

[queer-and-dear-books]

Title: The Minus-One Club

Author: Kekla Magoon

Genre: Friendship | Romance | LGBTQ+

Content Warnings: Homophobia | Death | Suicide | Terminal Illness | Alcohol

Overall Rating: 8.0/10

Personal Opinion: Maybe not the most romantic story but it’s hard to be mushy when you’re still grieving the death of your sister. The person you always had in your corner. This book takes a serious look at how grief can affect a person and how important it is to have people around you that understand that grief. But my absolutely favorite thing about this story is the ending. The growth that Kermit and all his friends in the Minus-One club go through. It is satisfying and a breath of fresh air. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Do I Own This Book? Nope.

Spoilers Below For My Likes & Dislikes:

Likes:

- I’m just going to be brutally honest, most of this score is because of the ending. Richie Corner got expelled, yeah fuck that bitch! How dare he be blessed with a nice ass and then be homophobic while also sexually harassing the only out gay kid. Anyway, I actually screamed out loud when he got expelled. It was just so satisfying. But I also love that the club went from being a “fight club support group” to an activism group. That is beautiful. They are taking their pain and transforming it into a weapon to enact real positive change in their community and I love that.

- Alex is a good friend. He got jealous that Matt was “stealing” his best friend and blew his top but the very next day, he went to apologize sincerely. And he also knew already that Kermit liked Matt and he supported him wholeheartedly. I respect the fuck out of him because of that. That’s a good friend. He even covered for Kermit when Kermit went to visit Matt in the hospital! 

- I really like the concept of the Minus-One club and I think all the members were really cool and honestly, such a good friend group. Patrick is so kind and observant with everyone’s habits. He noticed Matt wasn’t okay even when he acted like he was. Simon is fun, Celia is artsy, and Janna is cool. But all these people are still always there for each other no matter what. I respect that.

- I need to know the video game that Matt and Kermit had played. It sounds like a lot of fun. I mean, what gay kid didn’t imagine their beefy game characters making out? 

- Also, I think they had good chemistry. Part of it did feel like “Oh, we’re the only two gay boys around so let’s make out” which is always a peeve of mine but I like how much their bond grew as they continuously hung out one-on-one rather than as a group. 

- I love that Matt never pushed for Kermit to come out. As much as he wanted to go out on real dates, he understood why Kermit was hesitant. He understood that it isn’t always safe or better after you come out. Sad that it’s like that in their little Indiana town but at least they’re taking steps to make it better.

Dislikes:

- A lot of things are fucked up in this story. But the most fucked up are Kermit’s parents. At first I was giving them the benefit of the doubt. I thought they would love and accept their son if he came out. But then they called Matt “troubled.” AFTER his suicide attempt! Just the way they talked about him after finding out he’s gay was so disturbing. I felt bile.

- That being said, Kermit was still such a shit toward his parents. At the same time, his parents were being very unreasonable. There were no winners in that relationship. I hated them all. In the context of that relationship, I love Kermit in general.

- These teenagers and their repression man. Talk about your goddamn feelings! I’m glad that Kermit decided to get help through mental health resources but goddamn, it should not have taken his boyfriend’s suicide attempt to push him to it.

- My biggest peeve, as I’ve already mentioned, the “We’re the only two gay boys around so let’s make out” syndrome that gay love stories suffer from. Listen, I get it, sometimes there aren’t a lot of options. But it truly felt like, at times, Matt was just stringing Kermit along because he wanted a cuddle buddy and not because he genuinely liked Kermit.

- Also, what was the purpose of Kermit’s fart dream? It was just weird to be honest.

[rin-and-jade]

Heya. Just wanted to see if you have any advice for a polyfragmented system really struggling with feeling fake bc of splitting a lot of alters at once? Pur host is so super distressed because he feels Like we are subconsciously faking DID or twisting symptoms of another health issue to fit being a system.

Some encouragement or advice would be greatly appreciated.

--wildwood and co

Well, im going to say that everyone don’t have the same tolerance in handling stress (usually the cause of splits and whatnot) and that makes perfect sense because everyone has their own little spectrum, which includes you. Be it a person who is at the lowest spectrum possible, the middle, or the highest,, people who have yet tried to accept the way it is tend to say things like “it’s not bad enough” or “it feels bad enough that it looks fake because I don’t think it works that way” with no end.

Trying to justify by saying it’s fake, it’s not bad, it’s something else,, might make you end up a bit worser than where you had started because this feeling you have in your gut that just doesn’t sit right with all of those doubts and people’s experiences is still in there scuffing you in and out. Convincing ourselves that we’re faking an illness also doesn’t make the illness go away because if we really ARE faking it would’ve just went away.. as we wished. And that’s what is keeping us in a spiral.

Now i know this doesn’t feel like a positive encouragement but nevertheless im trying to say what’s the truth in the best way, minimum sugar coating, straight to the point and got some good answers. Some people don’t like it covered in glitter especially me, but people do like advices unlike something that’s taken out of google, so im writing three steps for you here;

Acceptance: first off, most important, try to stop denying it (thinking its fake) and see what happens. It feels bad for a moment, but it makes you a bit free doesn’t it? Let me tell you mine: i kept convincing myself i am all fine, all good, im a good person im not bad,, those things and the next second it contradicts itself every 5 fucking seconds. Because everyone isn’t immune to problems, neither about not percieved as a bitch in someone’s eyes because there’s always those people who hates peaches even if you taste the best. And when i started telling myself i have some bad parts it feels like seeing in a new perspective of the situation.

2. Grey thinking: acceptance is the first step to eliminating most of the problems we have be it denial and whatnot. But if you still think in extremities that will push you down the hole hard, we need to comprehend the middle area, again using my anecdote before where i scale myself either “bad” and “good”,, that seem so hard to comprehend and categorize the real perspective so by having the middle, as “i am good because i care about people and im also bad because i tend to be selfish” really puts me on a sweet spot where i don’t get distressed and tunnel vision. Now we are closer to being healthier in thinking.

3. Profit!: once we got the self acceptance and grey thinking down, we got ourselves an easy way to prevent another relapse of thoughts (the “oh god am i faking?!”). This is where people can have a better time using their mental capacity for healing the damaging mindset or learning how to cope better (splitting less) and i call that a win. Last advice is that we should never give this monster the food it wants (your negative thoughts to spiral down) so sometimes we can just ignore it, what gives,, im a bad person? Probably in a temporary moment all good. And it’ll actually go away by itself, with every thoughts easier to handle.

With a decent amount of practice, this shall no longer be a problem, so go get ‘em tiger.

- j

[insipid-drivel]

When DID saves the day

Alex here! I’m one of the primary alters of insipid-drivel and happen to be a pretty regular presence out in the wild. We’ve been endeavoring as a system of alternate personalities to speak out gradually about what it’s like to be us, what it is we - in our unique case, as all DID/OSDD presentations vary and so you should not take this as a research article to be relied upon for all of us - do, why we’re here, and other fun stuff along the way.

I was here today to help keep everyone affected by our mother’s abrupt health crisis and emergency surgery. insipid struggles with severe panic attacks related to this sort of subject matter, and so I’m here in front not to dominate, but to calm and help keep us functioning rather than succumb to severe panic and emotional turmoil.

Today, our mom had to go to the ER. It’s been a very difficult week. We (our pronouns are they/them collectively, but our family is from Southern roots, so it’s also often just “all y’all”) suffered from undiagnosed gallstones for over 20 years due to a hilariously outdated and mismanaged medical system that fobbed off an AFAB person who happened to have an unrelated mental illness who said “this hurts” for the umpteenth time! I happen to be an alter that’s highly fixated on medicine, health, and general wellbeing (and cheese) and felt particularly strongly to write this post with the intent of it additionally serving as a comfort and word of solidarity for other people out there who have suffered too long from doctors that forgot that medicine involves working with actual human beings and that being a bigoted asshole is why people die more than they should.

Like a few other conditions in our family, digestive issues have always been a genetic issue. In our particular branch, it’s gallstones. Our mom is in her mid-60′s and right in time for age-related gallstones to manifest, too, because our sensitivities to various foods often intensify as we age. Really though, as you get into your middle age, have a peek at your gallbladder if you eat a fatty or alcohol-rich diet. It just takes an ultrasound to check if you have any gallstones, yourself. They’re completely painless until they reach a point where they come loose and become trapped in a bile duct (an itty bitty little hose smaller than a human hair connecting the gallbladder to the stomach). This presents with absolutely horrifying pain in the mid-abdomen, usually toward the right hand side, as well as sometimes with severe burning and piercing pains in the abdomen. The pain is usually so severe that it necessitates hospitalization, opioids, and eventually, surgery.

With how severe the pain of a gallbladder in distress is, it’s easy to imagine how helpless you could feel when presented with a loved one in agonizing pain that you can’t make go away. The bitch of it is, when you’re waiting to be called up so you can get access to general and pain treatment, the gallbladder attacks often trigger spasms in the intestines that causes a sensation of intense urgency to use the bathroom in frequent waves. It’s virtually impossible to stay still and wait. It’s just as hard to watch, especially when you’ve suffered from it, yourself. It can bring back traumatic and triggering memories, because these conditions can be and are traumatic. Pain can leave deep psychological scars, and that’s okay. The important thing is to keep fighting for your right to feel better in every way you know you deserve to. It is very normal to see a therapist after a major health crisis, especially when pain was a major part of it, and you shouldn’t feel ashamed of talking to someone.

Our younger brother is our only other major form of direct support, but he happens to be on the shy side of autistic and can struggle with crisis management, especially when it’s personal to him. Like many people on the spectrum, he can clam up and quietly crumble from feeling the pressure to be The Guy, but not feeling like he has the life experience or confidence to “help correctly”.

That’s where I specifically come in! With insipid down with completely-understandable panic attacks because C-PTSD sucks and our brother feeling frozen and unsure of how to help and when, I asked insipid’s permission to take over, stop the panic cycle, and manage the most important thing of all: looking after our mom’s elderly, disabled dog and informing both him and our mother about what to expect, what signs were positive, and generally take charge and provide a sense of stability that our mom being cripplingly ill has temporarily taken away.

I’m a problem-solver. I fix things, and I love to take care of people and know that I’m helping. That’s what a lot of us alters do, and all we really care about. DID/OSDD, in our case, isn’t that much of a disorder. We work together as a system - we prefer to be called a team - to provide in surprising ways. We may not all be talkative, or personable, or even likeable, but there’s usually specific reasons behind why we exist as we do to the person that lives with us.

Instead of being a nervous wreck and never sleeping until everything is okay (and thus keeling over of sleep deprivation, and brain health is kind of a big deal to all of us because it’s kind of the only real space we have), I can get us to bed and panic attacks can piss off ;) Everything’s fine and dandy, and I know it because I said so, and that answer is acceptable in my abstract reality.

In the words of Adam Savage (or whoever he heard it from), “I reject your reality and substitute my own.”

Fight the stigma, and good night <3

-Alex

[elytrafemme]

okay hi hello hi jumping up and down. system things tee he

also @evilpuzzlingpapercrown (hi it’s me puzzle and i’m taging my alt and writing on annon because i refuse to mention this stuff of main. i have… irls in there. i don’t want to have a long ass awkward convo with some of the more skeptic about system people i know)

this is going to be a load of rambles because yes ✨ but i would love to hear any stories/answers/assorted things you have to anything i ramble on about

the most immediate thing i can think of is headspace/internal word. i’m always curious as to how that works for different systems. i read somewhere that even singlets can have a kind of headspace which is cool. cool beans (beans that are cool) mine is simple af and confusing af. hashtag dinner theater

okay and also i can remember when i first learned about plurality beyond like stereotypical nonsense like 3 years ago. i thought i was plural for months but there was such a mental blocker on figuring everything out and i decided i was just a different brand of mentally ill. i then had like a questioning period every other two months until i did like extensive research on systems and plurality. turns out finding info from people who have the thing ur looking into is the best place for info and coping skills. \o/

okay unrelated i keep smelling maple syrup all day and i don’t know why. it’s good though so i can’t complain.

anyway do you have colors you associate with any of your alters/headmates? also i find the word headmate funny. like mainly because my college algebra teacher says “and you can get help on homwork with your roomates, suitemates, any of your mates!” and i giggle. checking my homework with the other dumb bitches in my brain. hhahahehe

okay a question! we’re there ever things that you had a very switched up opinion of or something before realizing you were a system. like having some time really enjoying one kind of music and then something in ur brain is shocked later like “huh but i liked this music more” when it was just two people liking different music? okay that was an elaborate question i might give another example thou. like uh….. style! having a part of your brain that really liked a specific style unlike what you mostly like and realizing it’s an alter being freaking vocal but only about this one specific thing. like honey you can indulge futuristic neon cyber punk whatever later. right now is time for jeans and a hoodie because i said so

oh yea do you do anything specific to try and like monitor your system? like for any kind of memory things or just yo keep track of switches. ect ect. you don’t have to answer that because that’s kinda personal i was just wondering if you had a method that worked well for y’all? tbh i am going through an assortment of attempts at keeping a slight track of things… it’s difficult tbh. sometimes there’s a really freaking apparent switch and other times i realize someone’s like here with me now i guess and other times there’s a moment and i’m like “wait i don’t remember this morning. or like this whole week. haha. wait.” ect ect

haha silly moments over here

okay and i should probably give a more thought provoking topic. like uh… oh yea! positivity time yesyes

has your self image/self perception improved since realizing you were a system in any way? is there anyway that embracing this all has helped you? ect ect

YIPPEE OKAY HI!!! Mare fronting rn but we have a lot of thoughts about this so idk if anyone else is gonna co con or whatever but hiii

so for us, the internal world/headspace kind of... barely exists? this i think is because our brain isn't very good at retaining pictures for a long period of time, like we've had difficulties in the past trying to envision a scene we're working on writing but not being able to get a clear picture of it for a while. it's not that we can't imagine things at all, but it's kind of tricky. also, we're a pretty new system. so as of right now, most of the internal world is just... if an alter is about to front, i can see them sometimes doing a specific action, but it's in an empty void of space. the other day i was trying to call dahlia out to front but she was sitting there reading and kind of floating in the abyss

we do have an exception which is more like the. hm. okay so we have the foreground of headspace, which is just what i call the headspace, and that is where all the frequent fronters are. then in the background we kind of have a place where shit gets blurry and its hard to tell delusion from internal world. but that's where we get things like the woods and all that

damn that's fascinating actually, i feel very strange b/c i really and truly did NOT expect to be a system, like, i'd done research on systems for ages but i think i just didn't know about systems that like... didn't have amnesia walls, or weren't specifically DID. and bc of that i like did not realize what i was experiencing... Was That. having friends who r systems really helped on that front i agree wholeheartedly

i kind of dont like maple syrup like as a vibe. it's so sticky. it like tastes fine and smells fine and whatever just. residue :(

HELPSDFKDFSHKSDF you rolling up to ur alters like Guys its calculus time ^_^ nah but in terms of colors uhhh well it's. pretty on the nose actually but yeah! dahlia is pink, klavier is purple, i am a more blue-toned lighter purple, nightshade is a very dark purple-grey shade, and some of the other bastards have colors but idk their names yet so it's hard to talk about them. the deer is iridiscent but most closely matches with very light blue and very very VERY light pink

NO BC THAT'S STRAIGHT UP HOW WE FOUND OUT BASICALLY. like to cut the story short i have dealt with bad identity issues for a while bc my consistency with interests and personality traits and opinions were so different. how i realized that it might be a system thing was bc one day i got super into the Met gala despite never having fucking cared for it ever before. and i felt very like not like "me" in that moment. turns out that was someone else i don't remember who now but yeah that kicked us off

wishing u a lot of luck with tracking things, unfortunately i have no strategies :( i actually really struggle to keep track of it bc sometimes i'll be wandering doing smth and go "wait who am i?" and then i have no idea and i'm like "okay well. not mare but whatever" and then maybe half hour later i tune in again and it's me again. also my memory is really awful and we're so frequently co con, and honestly i am around so goddamn much, that it's kind of difficult to tell. i remember all the clear switches bc i journal them later, but none of the times and i never know what happens in those empty periods. so yeah shits rough and i wish u so much luck w that

this is kind of funny to say bc i think it's caused both grief and joy, but i've felt a lot better about myself since realizing that i'm not the same host that the system had in the start. like realizing that i am a new alter that emerged mid-2021 and has been host every since explains so much. i experience such imposter's syndrome and one of the biggest issues i had was realizing i was aro-spec and ace bc i felt like in the past EVERYTHING was testifying against that. and it took me until like last WEEK to realize. yeah that's because those memories weren't you. you probably formed to BE arospec and ace bc of them actually. it's so validating.

also. it's just. it's kind of nice. to not be alone :')

and also also this is kinda too much info but being a system despite not having that much amnesia walls or anything, has helped kind of a lot with trauma coping. its made some things worse but i think once we know the other alters and things organize it;ll actually end up being easier to handle everything

thank u for the questions friend i <3 you

[runonwords]

I’m mad at Daddy. He spanked me just now and I wasn’t expecting it at all. Normally I know when it’s coming. He tends to be quite patient. Apparently not tonight.

I’ve been in a pretty fragile state as of late. Work, for lack of a better term, FUCKING SUCKS. I’m stuck coteaching with, also for lack of a better term, a miserable bitch. She and I became close last year, but she’s only a few years shy of retirement and wants nothing to do with teaching the grade level we’re assigned to. Her mood swings are unpredictable and I spend the majority of my time obsessing over whether or not I’m hated and/or because mental illness.

I fall into spurts of drinking to dull the perseverance. I haven’t been, but tonight I broke my promise to myself. Naturally, my emotions are a little more ebby and flowy so my anger at the situation is projected onto my husband. It’s toxic, sure, but it’s honest.

Anyway, I ordered groceries tonight in a panic to make sure he had something to eat. He’s got a powerlifting meet coming up and I had a coupon for ground beef.

“This is way too fatty,” he said while cooking.

“Just fucking drain it,” I replied, immediately regretting my tone. I took his comment as a personal attack and reacted accordingly instead of taking it at face value. My therapist would probably agree with my husband, albeit the spanking part (we have yet to share that).

Out comes the rubber spatula. Cue panic. I’m bent over the washing machine and he’s hitting me hard, but I’m too angry to cry. I walk away and come back into the kitchen to throw something away, slamming the cupboard in the process, and now my face is cupled tightly in his hand.

“Did you just slam that?” There’s a pause. Silence on my end.

“Did you just slam that,” he repeats.

“Yessir,” I respond, all the while staring at the floor.

He pulls my head up to meet his eyes.

“You are going to behave for the rest of the night. If you’re struggling, I will hold you, but you don’t get to sass me for multiple days without consequences, do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” and I bury my head into his chest, still angry.

I’m not angry at him, but I keep it together all day at work despite the fact that I often visualize physically fighting this woman. I’m quite aggressive by nature, internally anyway. It’s my primary fuel for self-destructive behavior, but eventually it bubbles over.

Then there’s the meltdown. The kind of meltdown that you don’t remember the next morning. Rinse. Repeat.

I guess I feel better. At minimum, getting a spanking pushed me into a place of reflection. I’ve got BPD and PTSD. Therapy is helpful, but by no means is heightened self-awareness the key to minimizing behaviors.

Sometimes I get stuck. I get really stuck. Stuck enough where the only thing louder than the voice in my head is a slap to my nervous system.

I don’t know that I’m necessarily calm, but I can tell you that all I really want right now is comfort. That’s one perk of domestic discipline I suppose. There’s always the promise of softness after the harsh reality that is waking me up.

Seriously though- fuck that bitch.

[forestlingincorporated]

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People. 

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them. 

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent. 

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.) 

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction. 

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children. 

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically. 

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation. 

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear. 

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect. 

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?) 

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but... 

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7. 

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.) 

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics. 

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two. 

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about. 

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural. 

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries. 

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance. 

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other. 

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent. 

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart. 

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist. 

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well. 

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child. 

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive. 

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you. 

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt. 

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh... 

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating? 

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting. 

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t. 

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so. 

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet. 

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom. 

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought. 

[polyadvice]

My partner takes her anxiety out on me

One of my partners struggles with anxiety. She experiences irritability as a sign of her anxiety. This often means that in situations when she's anxious she will snap at me or say rude things, and sometimes means there are several hours where we're just sitting in the tension - something that sometimes triggers my own anxiety. The longer we're together, the harder I'm finding it. I find myself being hyper vigilant to try and make sure nothing triggers her (e.g. she gets anxious when plans are derailed or something goes wrong, so I'm often catching myself trying to pre-prepare to the nth degree all the time).

This isn't something she's asked me to do, and when I've brought it up as a topic of conversation she has reassured me that I'm not responsible for her anxiety, which I can then reassure myself when she's feeling anxious moments (i.e., reminding myself that just because she's tense/irritable/snapping at me, it isn't actually to do with me). But otherwise, our conversations around the topic haven't been very productive. Quite often conversations end up with her saying she's a bad girlfriend or a bitch because of her anxiety, which puts me in a position where all I can do is comfort her.

How can I bring the topic up in a way that shows I want to be there and support her, but I also have my own difficulties during these times? I don't want to make her even more anxious in these moments that she might be upsetting me, like I'd rather she had someone she could be comfortable with even if she's snapping at me than she keeps it all bottled up.

Anxiety is a very real condition, and it can be debilitating. I myself deal with serious anxiety. So I’m not trying to minimize or victim blame here.

However.

Having a diagnosis of a mental illness is supposed to be a tool to help us feel better and do better, because now we have a name for what’s going on, and we know what sorts of things work to help address the issue. They are not free passes to fully explain and excuse behavior because we ‘can’t help it’ or because it has a DSM-recognized label.

It’s not cool to snap at your partner. It’s not cool to be rude to your partner. We all do this sometimes, especially when we’re anxious or distracted or under pressure or otherwise feeling irritable. However, as adults in relationships, we should take steps to apologize and address the issue when it happens, and to reduce the frequency with which this happens.

Your partner should not be treating you like this to the point where you feel “hyper vigilant.” That’s not okay. You deserve to feel calm, safe, happy, and respected when you’re around your partner. Period.

I understand that you want to be someone she can be “comfortable” with and not feel the pressure to “bottle up” or otherwise mask the symptoms of her mental illness. That is a good goal to have in a relationship! However, snapping or being rude to you doesn’t sound like it actually helps reduce her anxiety, nor does it sound like she’s meeting you halfway and doing work on her part to minimize the amount that she dumps her anxious negativity onto you.

It sounds like when you ask her to try and cool it with this behavior, she gets ashamed and defensive. That makes it hard for you to have a healthy conversation about it, and it’s not fair. You’re putting in the emotional effort to ride out her challenging behaviors, and she needs to also put in the emotional work to address this ongoing pattern. If anxiety is the cause, then she needs to work on her anxiety. She needs to do her work and see a therapist, do some workbooks or online courses, take up some healthy practices, consider trying out medication, and find other outlets for her irritability besides you.

Also, you need to find a way to let go of feeling responsibility for her anxiety. It sounds like she’s actually trying (whether or not she’s being successful) to not make it your problem. There is a big difference between “I feel anxious” and “I feel anxious, YOU NEED TO FIX IT.” Your job here is to develop some “vibe shields” that can reduce your “absorbency.”

Sometimes something is just not your problem and not actionable for you. You cannot solve your partner’s anxiety and you shouldn’t be expected to. Take her at her word that she doesn’t want you to get all wrapped up in it, and that her snapping at you is not her demanding that you take it upon yourself to start addressing it.

Practice adopting the mindset of “I wish unsubscribe from this material” or “This is not my department.” Sometimes I literally picture a garage door type of thing sliding down over my mind and body, blocking the energies that someone else is putting out. Sometimes I just literally leave the space or find something else to focus on. You need to find the practice that works for you.

Once you start trying those two things - asking her to manage her energy and doing your best not to take on her emotions - then you’ll need to reassess whether those things are working. If it turns out that this problem can’t be resolved between you two, then you’ll need to think about whether you’re willing to stay in a relationship that’s making you feel like this.

[yagamisdiary]

if u feel uncomfortable answering this question u don’t have to!

just wanted to ask if u have any tips in preventing on doing sh? like it’s really hard to stop once u started and even if you’re clean for a while the urge doesn’t go away

oh damn we’re getting deep okay

TW: self harm, rape, drug use, overdose

so i used to self harm and i think this is pretty well known since i included it in parasite and what not

i started in 2016, i was 16 and i had scars all down my arms and i always wore sweaters, jackets, long sleeves etc

btw, i live in TEXAS where it’s hotter than hell so i would sweat my ass off and ppl would be like girl take off your jacket but i would always say i was fine even though i was dying

i ended up doing it until i was 17/18 without anyone noticing until i overdosed and went to the hospital (1st suicide attempt) and they saw the cuts

when i woke up i got help and sent to a mental facility and got some cute socks 😍 (sorry humor is my coping mechanism) and i ended up getting clean from self harm and drugs

i was clean for maybe an entire year but i would get random urges but i would just try to push them down or resorted to other forms of self harm like pinching myself until i bled or pulling my hair until it came out or punching walls/glass

when i turned 19, i got raped and i ended up going down hill again and start to self harm again and doing drugs again

my second suicide attempt happens after i slit my wrists again and endured blood loss and had to go to the hospital AGAIN and got cute socks AGAIN

i think i didn’t get better until i was 21 and it was only because i moved away from everything that was making me depressed. i left my family, friends, school, etc behind and started a new life in another town with my dad (my parents are divorced)

moral of this depressing ass story is i didn’t magically get clean one day. that’s not real. people who actually deal with self harm never just get better one day. it’s not possible because it’s an illness, it’s an addiction and i know that first hand

the best piece of advice i can give you is to find a pattern. find what makes you want to cut yourself and try your absolute hardest to stay away from it or get rid of it even if it hurts like a bitch

leaving everything behind hurt so bad, saying goodbye to some and just disappearing on others hurt but my mental health has never been better

there are times where if things get bad, i’ll randomly get the urges too but i think i’ve gotten much better at convincing myself it’s not worth it

i’m stuck with scars that are BARELY fading away because of something i did years ago and sometimes it makes me really sad when i feel insecure about wearing certain things that expose my arms or when someone points it out

at the time, i just had so much disgust and hatred for myself that i wanted to cause myself pain. i felt like i deserved it. i deserved to hurt, i deserved to bleed

and then there was times where i was so depressed and numb that i would cut myself just to feel something, just to see if i was alive

i regret it so fucking much i wish i could go back and hug my 16 year old self and beg her not to do those things and be kinder to herself and love herself some more

i’m legit tearing up while writing this because the idea of someone feeling so low of themselves that they feel the need to punish themselves breaks my heart so badly because no one deserves that.

i hope whatever you’re going through gets better and i hope you never get the urge to hurt yourself again because from someone who committed self harm in many different forms for YEARS i can tell you personally it’s not worth it

it won’t take the pain away, it won’t change anything, it won’t make you feel better

if you ever need someone to talk to, i’m here for you!!

[texanredrose]

Prep and Goth

Day 1: Enemies to Lovers/Secret Library Time

---

Weiss stared at the clock, mentally urging the second hand to move faster. The transition between this period and the next always took the longest- or at least it felt like time slowed down around this point in the day. She hated how the end of the period never caught her off guard; she was always keenly aware of the clock, with her work done and backpack already packed and ready for her to leave the classroom. She was usually the first one out the door.

“Hey, if I give you five lien, could you get me a redbull?”

“No, Ruby; for the last time, I don’t have a release period next, I’m a library aide.”

“Oh, come on, everyone knows you just show up, sign in, and disappear!” Her fellow senior slumped in her seat. “It’s not like you’re going to get in trouble! Ms. Goodwitch knows you ditch and she doesn’t say anything!”

How she’d become friends- perhaps even best friends- with the school’s most energetic track star was beyond her; it involved an ill fated chemistry lab and the fire department but, honestly, she couldn’t remember specific details beyond that. While Weiss would love to say she merely put up with and tolerated Ruby, the truth was that she still hadn’t entirely adjusted to the concept of having someone who would be with her through thick and thin. She was being… persuaded to open up to the young woman but she still kept more secrets than she probably should from her best friend.

“I swear, Ruby Rose, if you keep spreading such slander about my character, I’ll be forced to take drastic action!” She tore her gaze away from the clock to glare at the woman. “I do not skip class!”

Rolling her silver eyes, Ruby rested her head on her desk and groaned. “Just because you’re the Valedictorian doesn’t mean you have to be perfect, Weiss. No one’s going to care if you ditch one period.”

“I care!” The bell rang a moment later and she forgot about the argument entirely as she quickly grabbed her pack and fast walked to the door.

The walk from her class to the library was a blessedly short one, made slightly longer by classmates and underclassmen getting in her way as other students emerged into the hallway for the passing period. A cold glare managed to persuade some of them to move but not all of them- those blessedly ignorant few she stepped around or nearly barreled through if she could get away with it. It probably contributed to her reputation of being a vicious, cut throat type of person like her sister but her patience had worn too thin and she needed to get to the library.

A few steps from her goal, a hand suddenly landed on her shoulder and spun her around, and only two people in the whole school would dare put their hands on her like that, and only one of them for no good reason. “YANG-”

“Calm down, Princess, this’ll be quick, promise!” With hands on Weiss’ shoulders, she guided them away from the throng of students to a small alcove next to the library doors. “Just got something I need to say real quick.”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” Weiss scowled at the blonde, annoyed that she seemed to get taller every time they talked, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Last I checked, I didn’t have anything to do with the girls’ basketball team. Or the weightlifting team. Or the boxing team. Or-”

Yang clapped her hands together in front of Weiss’ face, smiling that do-you-really-think-they’ll-expel-me smile of hers. “Hey, do me a favor? Drop the frigid bitch act for, like, five minutes, okay? Because I really don’t have the time for it; if you wanna go toe-to-toe in the bitch-out-lypmics, we can schedule that another time, but right now, I need to have a serious talk with you. It’s about Blake.”

At the namedrop, her blood ran cold and her heart lodged in her throat, eyes growing wide as a genuine tendril of fear began taking root in her chest. “Is she okay?”

“Well, that depends,” Yang replied, looking around at their classmates walking past without paying them any mind. “Look. I don’t get it, okay, the whole secret girlfriends thing, I don’t even know how you two got together… but what I do know is that Blake deserves better than someone who’s ashamed of her-”

“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth,” she hissed, worry turning to fury in the blink of an eye. “I’m not ashamed to be dating Blake. If it was safe, everyone would know!”

“Yeah, can you define ‘safe’ for me in this context? Because I’m having a real hard time convincing Blake you’re being sincere when you don’t want anyone knowing the two of you are dating.”

“You know we’re dating!”

“Because I refuse to let things go and I knew she was acting weird!” Yang growled in frustration, fingers flexing as if she was seriously debating throttling Weiss. “Listen, I figured it out and I bullied her into telling me weeks ago, but not even Ruby knows beyond that. Not a fan of keeping secrets but I’ll do it for a friend. Now, answer my question, please, because with the rest of the school convinced you two hate each other, this whole ‘don’t tell anyone we’re dating thing’ is clear as mud, and it’s really starting to get to her.”

Weiss’ shoulders fell as she looked away, her anger abating in the face of the situation presented to her. “It’s… complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it for me.” Yang made a gesture with one hand. “Just give me a straight answer!”

“I can’t!” She stamped her foot, speaking before she could think about her word choice. “I can only give you a gay answer!”

Yang stared at her for a long moment. “So, that’s what Blake meant when she said you have the worst sense of humor.”

“I’m done with this conversation-”

Yang grabbed her arm and stopped her, expression turning serious. “Listen, you don’t wanna talk to me? Fine. But talk to Blake. If you really care about her, she deserves to hear that.”

As the blonde stepped away, the bell rang, making both of them late- not that it would matter. Ms. Goodwitch wouldn’t count her late and even if she did, a single tardy wouldn’t be much of a blemish on her record. There was a time when it would’ve bothered her but she’d grown past that a few years ago; perfection was, in some sense, in the eye of the beholder. Blake would notice, though, and she hurried to the library to keep her ‘secret girlfriend’ from worrying.

When she got to the library, she dropped her bag behind the counter and signed in, highly aware that Blake was somewhere among the rows reshelving books. 

The librarian gave her a small nod. “I presume you have good reason for being late but don’t make a habit of it.”

“Of course, Ms. Goodwitch.” With that, she grabbed a few leftover books that needed reshelving and went into the stacks to reshelve them. As soon as she was far enough away from the front desk, she spoke in a soft voice that Blake would be able to hear regardless. “Blake? I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Is everything alright?” She’d long ago grown accustomed to the faunus’ silent steps, which really shouldn’t be possible given the amount of glistening chains and bits of metal hung from her ensemble but it was one of those things Weiss had accepted about Blake at first and had grown to admire. “It’s not like you to be late.”

“I… got pulled into a conversation.” She debated, briefly, if she should mention who the conversation was with but ultimately decided against it. Yang would likely bring it up herself at some point but she didn’t want the distraction at present. “Blake… you know I care about you, right?”

“Yes, Weiss, and I care about you, too,” she replied, her voice holding that special lilt that Weiss used to think was snideness. Now, she recognized it as a gentle sort of teasing and, sometimes, a deflection. “What brought this on?”

“I’ve been thinking about some things… and I find myself curious about some… other things.”

“Truly, you have a way with words.”

“I’m trying to be serious!” Weiss whined, putting a hand to her head as she tried to think of a way to word what she wanted to say. In the next moment, Blake stepped up and wrapped her arms around her waist, resting her chin on Weiss’ shoulder in a silent show of support. This was, partly, where they differed, because even when words escaped Blake, the faunus could somehow find a way to convey what she needed; Weiss, in contrast, simply clammed up entirely if she didn’t begin insulting whoever was nearest. “You know the only reason we’re not dating publicly is because of my family, right? That, the moment I turn eighteen and gain access to my funds, I’ll shout it from the rooftops… right?”

Blake took a step back but one hand lingered on Weiss’ hip, a soft assurance that she wasn’t leaving but that they should probably have a conversation like this face-to-face. When she turned around, she searched shining amber eyes and found a touch of disbelief hiding there. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think it was the only reason.”

“It really is…” Weiss sighed, running a hand through her bangs in frustration. “I… I don’t know how to prove it, I don’t know if there’s anything I could say or do that would, but… I don’t want you thinking that I’m ashamed of dating you… that’s… that’s the furthest from the truth.”

Feline ears flicked towards one end of the row and both of them quickly focused on shelving the few books that remained as a group of students went back to one of the study rooms. Once the coast was clear, Blake sighed heavily. “I told Yang to drop it.”

“She’s trying to help.” Begrudgingly, she continued. “Ruby’s the same way. They meddle when they can but they have the best of intentions.”

“Still… she wasn’t too… forceful, was she?”

“She only threatened to throttle me, so no, she wasn’t too forceful.” Weiss tilted her head. “And, arguably, she has a salient point. I… I perhaps took it for granted that you would… that I made my feelings about you clear to you.”

Blake ducked her head, her ears flicking back briefly to blending into midnight black hair. As per her usual, the faunus was bedecked in all black save for the silver of the chains hanging from her pants and the snake bite piercings on her bottom lip. Whenever they were making out, Weiss found that flicking either of the piercings with her tongue would always result in a soft groan from Blake.

“So… when you turn eighteen…basically, when we graduate?” Blake took a step forward. “That’s… a long time to be a secret from everyone.”

“Well… not from everyone. Yang knows.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Ruby will know… when I tell her…”

“Right.” Blake came a bit closer. “I guess that means we won’t be going to prom together.”

Weiss raised a brow, then caught onto what her girlfriend was doing, a smile tugging at her lips. “You? Go to prom?” A soft chuckle. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead at… what was it you called it? A useless party for empty headed idiots?”

“And a waste of money. I said that, too.” Blake stopped just a hair’s breadth away and very nonchalantly shelved a book just behind Weiss’ shoulder. “But you’ve got a crown to win, right? Prom Queen to go with your other honors?”

“There’s only one crown that I care to claim,” she replied, reaching up to bury her hand in midnight locks between the faunus’ ears and pulling her down into a kiss. Normally, they didn’t indulge in such outside of Ms. Goodwitch’s office, which the librarian granted them access to once they’d reshelved all the books. If she suspected what they did in there, she remained silent, probably because while reshelving the books they would also fix what other aides did incorrectly and she appreciated the help more than she cared to curtail PDAs.

The kiss didn’t last too long- just long enough to drive her point home- but the look in amber eyes almost made her too weak to move.

Weiss gathered her courage. “I do love you, Blake.”

Not ‘care about’, not ‘fond of’, not any other arrangement of words she’d used over the past year to describe how she felt. Fear that caring too much would make her careless had prevented her from saying the words before. Now, though, she couldn’t go another moment without Blake understanding exactly how much she cared.

After the shock passed, Blake smiled softly, ears canting forward. “I love you too, Weiss.”

It took a moment for them to part but they returned to the counter and finished reshelving the books.

“Blake?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I’d look good in black?”

---

Hi, yes, please join me in picturing Blake as a late 90′s/early 00′s goth girl.

[land-of-brains-and-chocolate]

Rec list for Eddie and Symby being vaguely to very gay?

I'm sorry for coming to you with my monsterfucker agenda 😔👊 (no I'm not)

i mean, i probably could’ve seen this coming.

venom is dominated by two opposing narratives. let’s call this the “relationship narrative” and the “control narrative”. they’re not perfectly separated, like, you’ll definitely get elements of one in the other, but generally one of them describes what the story, at its core, is using the symbiote for.

now comics are an endless tug-of-war at the best of times, much less the gayest and slimiest of times. there’s a neverending backlash and backbacklash going on between these two takes. what you want is the relationship narrative.

everything very much started out with that take. eddie and the symbiote are two characters who forge an evil alliance because it lets them do what they wanna do (kill spider-man, more or less) and they have the same kinds of neuroses and complexes and syndromes. lots of early comics are also very fun about the merged consciousness, merged identity deal. that’s kind of the textbook relationship stuff.

personally i absolutely think the original stories (venom was created by david michelinie) have romantic undertones, even starting in the villainy days. eddie describes their first meeting as “a shadow moved, caressed me.” he takes the rejection of the symbiote still being “in love with” spider-man really hard. he sobs his eyes out when he thinks it’s dead and promises to avenge it bare-handed. they totally expect to live happily ever after on a deserted island together.

then there’s venom: lethal protector, which is cute on its own, but if you’re reading for slime romance, i very specifically recommend the novelisation. i won’t even spoil it. and then, planet of the symbiotes is the first comic that i would say has outright queer themes, intentional or not.

so all those recs until now are collected in this post.

we're trucking along through the 90s, we explore elements of one take and then the other and sometimes we ignore the symbiote completely, but not too much changes, overall. the next BIG stop in Gay Venom is, of course, the hunger.

miniseries by len kaminski, just venom: the hunger. plenty of people have written their essays on it, but what’s always important to me is that it DID NOT come out of nowhere. as said above, it expanded on themes that were there, it references michelinie venom very explicitly, like you get your SECOND “tenderly touching the green glass tube” scene.

but yes this one is specifically about, like, stigmatisation, otherness, mental illness, meeting all those things with care and empathy and optimism, tentacle sex. again, many essays. a venom comic that can go “look at the twisted deviance of this relationship” and then turn it around into “but how are you looking at it” is good. god how good would it be if they also did that to eddie more. anyway.

a few years later you get the first MAJOR fucking backlash, culminating in the SECOND story titled the hunger. spectacular spider-man: the hunger, from 2003. completely reboots venom and retcons their motivations and backstories, makes very spiteful references to planet of the symbiotes and the hunger, like it is not also called that by sheer coincidence. literally starts out, in a comic that wants to tackle and redefine venom, with the line “the PROBLEM is that you guys are like an old married couple”. so the new status quo is that the symbiote only ever used eddie to be with spider-man, and eddie only ever used the symbiote to not die of cancer.

the “control narrative” that really kicks in here uses the symbiote as, you know, a thing to control, eddie’s demons personified or even a completely foreign force to torment him. if eddie is evil, it’s not because of what he thinks and believes and wants, it’s because he couldn’t control the symbiote and gave in to its inexplicable bloodlust.

this is an unambiguous downgrade in terms of complexity, in my humble opinion, completely fucks up eddie’s responsibility themes, and is also a pretty clearly petty reaction to venom’s absolute oversaturation in the nineties. the bitch was everywhere and most of it wasn’t good. so there was LOTS of “look at this creepy loser” content by writers cringing themselves into self-awareness at the time. the 00s were going to be GRITTY and MATURE.

this of course means that we get to see eddie slit his wrists and bleed to death on panel after selling the symbiote to supervillains as an attempted act of redemption???

wild fucking times! it’s not exactly worth recommending as ~shippy~, but the first real backbacklash to this first round of retcons comes from dan slott, who just kind of ignores it all in new ways to die. drags eddie back to the land of the living and relevant, makes the symbiote refuse to let its new host kill him, telling that host, and reestablishing, that it loves eddie. and then, to keep him living and relevant, slott makes eddie anti-venom.

don’t even worry about it. anti-venom is essentially eddie seeking redemption with symbiote powers, but without the symbiote, except he pretty much acts no fucking different at all, just keeps on being a murderous vigilante with cracked ideas about innocence and guilt. people still act like he’s better now because, in its metatextual ways, the hunger was right.

then fucking uuuuuuhhhhhhh. agent venom. symbiote goes to flash thompson and the us military, and the writer, rick remender, goes really, really, really hard on the control narrative. the symbiote becomes a substance flash is addicted to, gives a voice to his past abuse, it’s dark times all the times.

people very much do like that narrative for flash, like at least from that perspective it was worth it. i don’t like it much for the symbiote. for the symbiote, representing everything fucked up with flash and forcing him to murder kill bite all the time is resolved via the good guy avengers literally lobotomising it so flash can wear it without further resistance or input. imagine doing that to a human person. you’re uncooperative so we’re gonna turn off your higher cognitive functions and wear you like a meat suit. happy ending for everybody! truly we’ve conquered our demons this day.

then! at the same time, there’s a cartoon coming out, it’s called ultimate spider-man. THAT one does the control narrative take with harry osborn, but then does the relationship take with flash, making it the only cartoon to outright redeem the symbiote and let it find friendship and be valued as a person.

and people loved it! so brian michael bendis gets it in his head that he’s going to redeem the symbiote and make it partner up with flash. and he does redeem it by the highly fucking questionable means of having it be “cleansed”, aka brainwashed and relieved of its memories and personality. not that it matters for long. nothing fucking matters in comics. take this with you if it’s the only thing.

so then for fun friendship times you get venom: space knight, flash and the symbiote’s adventures in space! and then that gets cancelled. eddie is off somewhere being toxin and hunting carnage (2016). many good comics but you did not ask for them.

and THEN.

it is time for the next MOTHER of backlashes.

flash gets literally discarded at fucking roadside to put the symbiote back on eddie and turn back time on their relationship to RIGHT before the FIRST backlash happened. you know, all those 2003 retcons. gone. ignored. no more. venom’s themes are now those circa 1996 again. full fucking on relationship narrative. ROMANTIC relationship narrative, and that after the symbiote was turned into eddie’s evil shadow, after he hated it and spent a LONG time seeking to eradicate all symbiotes (and not even for the first time).

the COSTA run. venom (2016). reviled and beloved.

like this comic is fucking ANGRY about symbiote treatment. i HAD to tell you all of that so you’d understand ANYTHING it’s doing. the first thing it does is flip it completely around, puts the symbiote on a military guy who’s making IT do bad things, makes his ability to control it horrifying and abusive instead of heroic and admirable. one of the later things it does (in the follow-up venom: first host) is outright feature a villain who lobotomises symbiotes, ending on a symbiote serving him swift and sweet payback by doing the same thing TO HIM. it’s exactly as unsubtle as the hunger (2003) was about its hang-ups.

comics... are a conversation.

flash remains a symbiote friend but still got fucked over big time by it all, symbiote-focused writers slott and costa also kind of use him to literally, in case anybody hadn’t caught on, literally spell out the REAL story that’s been going on in the writer's room for the past THIRTY YEARS:

you’ll notice i didn’t actually list any of the Gay Shit for you, you’ve probably already seen it or you’ll get to see it for yourself. yes, they are deeply in love, yes, it’s fucked up and flawed, yes, it is real and taken seriously and has ultimately redeeming potential. yes the concept of that nearly knocked me off my feet and in front of the subway at one point. yes there’s mpreg

it’s also fucking riddled with events, which spin off into other comics, so either ignore those and rely on the recaps OR click yourself forward through the “next issue (story)” button on marvel wikia to know what to read.

and after that must of course come the backbackbacklash, as certain as death or taxes. in the next run, we retcon everything once more, eddie just needs to control his darkness, the symbiote was an evil abuser all along, nothing on earth is ever new.

i’m not gonna go through it, i’m just gonna point you to the backbackbackbacklash issue that came out during this time: venom annual volume 2 number 1 - it’s confusingly named, it’s the one that has a blue-skinned space lady on it. this one ignores the backbackbacklash going on very pointedly and goes “it’s not ABOUT control” again, it’s pretty explicitly romantic.

and then there’s also marvel comics presents (2019) #5, which, oddly enough, does not particularly feature the characterisation you’d typically see in the relationship narrative? but it does feature eddie and the symbiote literally fucking, so you’d want to know about it.

that’s the overall, like, frame of eddie and the symbiote being in a relationship (nuh uh) (yeah they are) (NUH UH) (YEAH THEY ARE)

some stuff that’s smaller but still notable, uh.

nova (1999) 6 - 7, that’s the “we’re space married”

venom: dark origin, that’s an ALTERNATE (!!!) take on the character, don’t expect a likeable eddie but it’s very darkly funny and gay so what can i say.

venom: the end, which i would absolutely fucking hate to be canon, i think its characterisation is quite regressive, but the symbiote sure is in love, i guess.

venom: separation anxiety, the dawn of the control narrative but eddie’s characterisation did not have to go so wrong from here, like if they’d just figured out AT THIS STAGE that he's STILL acting like venom without it... i digress. it has the symbiote going eddie eddie eddieee

venom: sinner takes all, this is the first she-venom comic so that’s. hm. interesting. healing symbiote blanket

don’t read venom: license to kill just look at this panel with me

if i think of more comics worth adding i’ll add them.

the subtext slash text is heavy enough to be present to some degree in literally every cartoon adaptation of eddie brock. spider-man: the animated series goes FULL control narrative, in fact it started the “the symbiote corrupted peter” take that we to this day cannot escape, but the first few venom episodes are VERY playful about their relationship.

in spectacular spider-man it’s canon, but horrible. eddie’s in love with it, but eddie's a good boy and the symbiote is played very, very, very abusively. i think this is an evil symbiote adaptation that works well enough, at least it’s an actual meaningful character instead of just a malevolent force to resist.

in marvel’s spider-man, the only venom episode worth watching is venom returns.

i’ve actually got every symbiote-relevant episode listed right here from when we did our communal watch-through.

also watch truth in journalism. idk if it’s exactly shippy just do it

[scattered-winter]

Trapped // birdflash drabble (YJ)

(hurt/comfort, whump, angst with a happy ending, blood and injury, fluff, established relationship)

a/n: uh yeah this is my first attempt at writing in this fandom so. go easy on me please. also I still haven’t even seen all of YJ seasons 2 and 3 (because every episode I watch brings me closer to Wally dying don’t judge me I’m mentally ill) so please forgive me if this is messed up. the basic timeline for this drabble is sometime after the season 1 finale, but before all the new team members come and all that fun stuff.

tw: fire, collapsed building, blood

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

Scarecrow sure is a bitch, Wally complained.

Quit complaining about the mask, Artemis grumbled. You’ve just never had one cover your entire face before.

It makes it hard to breathe! Breathing is kind of important in my line of work!

Is breathing not important for everyone? M’gann wondered.

Focus, everyone. Kaldur’s voice cut through the chatter of the mind-link. We’re a go.

What do you think, Dick? Is Wally overreacting? Artemis challenged. Dick saw flashes of what she was seeing, shadows moving as Artemis and M’gann darted forward to the doors of the warehouse.

Dick sighed. He was perched on the roof across from the warehouse, keeping the perimeter secure. As a general rule he tried to stay out of Wally and Artemis’ arguments; he hated siding against his boyfriend, but Artemis could be pretty scary when she wanted to be, so he hated siding against her, too.

You’re not seriously thinking about taking her side, babe? Wally pleaded.

I’m not taking anyone’s side. The masks are essential, but so is breathing. He paused. Or should I say they’re not “ential?”

He could admit that the masks were annoying. But they were a necessity. Scarecrow was throwing his weight around in Gotham, and Batman was offworld with some Justice League business. He’d called back and asked Dick and the team to cover for him.

The villain was experimenting, apparently; he wasn’t using just fear toxin anymore, but all kinds of poisonous gas. The whole team was wearing a form of gas mask to keep them from inhaling any of it, much to Wally’s complaining.

Going in, M’gann reported.

Dick leaned forward slightly, watching as the girls disappeared inside the warehouse. He was the closest, so he needed to be ready to move if they needed backup.

Damn, your ass looks good in that outfit, Wally muttered. He was in the alley a few streets down to block Scarecrow’s escape to the east, and probably had a perfect view of Dick leaning over the edge of the roof.

We can all hear you, Wally, Artemis complained.

I know.

Dick rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. Maybe keep the flirting to a minimum when we’re on a mind-link, okay?

Hmph. Fine. But you’d better be ready for a shit-ton of flirting when this is done.

Love you too, Dick responded.

Ugh, Artemis complained. I just gagged out loud.

Try not to compromise the mission, Artemis. Just learn to tune them out, like I did. Kaldur said seriously, but Dick could feel faint twinges of amusement from the Atlantean.

Something is wrong, M’gann said, bolts of urgency shooting through the mind-link like an electrical current. The warehouse is empty.

Dick’s eyes widened, horror dawning as he realized what was happening. Get out of there! Now!

Bare moments after his thought reached the others, the warehouse erupted into flame as the entrance collapsed into rubble.

Dick was already moving, leaping down to a streetlamp and landing in a neat flip.

M’gann! Artemis! Are you okay?

Wally appeared beside Dick in a blur of yellow and red. The gas mask covered most of his face, but Dick could see his green eyes, wide with horror.

I’m all right, Artemis said weakly. I’m trapped, and I can’t see M’gann.

I’m here, M’gann said quietly. It’s...too hot.

Dick glanced across the street, where Kaldur was stationed. Kaldur, since you can’t get too close, patrol the area. Look for clues. Scarecrow is smart, but this was done quickly. He might have left something behind.

On it.

Dick turned to Wally. Let’s get the girls out.

Wally nodded and took off, zigzagging between pieces of rubble and disappearing inside. Dick was slower, vaulting over the chunks of rubble and slipping between the cracks.

Inside, smoke choked the air, sparks flying as the flames roared.

I’ll get Artemis, Dick said. Go find M’gann.

Be careful. Wally said softly.

Yeah. You too.

Dick picked his way through the rubble, glancing at the screen on his forearm to track the signal coming from Artemis’ suit.

He found her trying to wriggle out from beneath a collapsed beam. The thick piece of wood had collided with another, forming a triangle above where Artemis had landed. She was trapped, but relatively unharmed.

Dick pressed against one of the beams, grunting as he levered it higher. Artemis wriggled out from beneath, and Dick dropped the beam with a heavy thud. Sparks flew as it landed, and Dick covered his eyes with his arm.

Go! He told Artemis. I’m right behind you!

She stumbled forward, too busy coughing to reply, and Dick fell into step behind her. Even with the mask, it was hard to breathe through the smoke. It would have been easier to navigate the burning building if Conner had been here, but he was taking a rare vacation. Superman was taking him to visit some of his favorite planets, and the whole team had encouraged Conner to go; he hardly got to spend any time with Superman, with both of them fighting villains every day.

Dick’s eyes stung from the smoke; Artemis was a green-and-blonde blur in front of him. Then she was gone.

Dick stumbled to a stop. Artemis?

I’m still here! I’m almost out! Where are you?

I’m still inside. Just keep going. I’ll be there soon.

He looked around, squinting against the sparks and smoke. The fire had spread across where Artemis had gotten out, blocking Dick’s exit. He had to find a different way out.

I’ve got M’gann, Wally reported. We’re both out. Where are you, Dick?

Dick coughed as he stumbled toward a crumbling wall that wasn’t burning. Yet. I’m still inside. The fire’s spreading too fast for me to find another way out.

What? Where are you? I’m coming to get you!

No. I’ll be fine. I’m improvising. Dick slipped off his cape, wrapping the fabric over his hands and hitting the wall as hard as he could. He had no idea if this wall would open up outside or just lead to another burning room, but he couldn’t stay here. The flames were reaching higher and higher, and if the heat didn’t kill him, the smoke sure as hell would.

Finally, the crumbling wall gave way, and Dick spilled out into another room. He was just rising to his feet when the building groaned, like a dying beast. And then the world turned upside down as the roof collapsed.

* * * * * * * * * * *

His ears were ringing.

His head hurt.

Actually, everything hurt.

It was so hot.

Someone was calling his name over and over, his voice filled with panic.

Dick! Please don’t do this! Talk to me!

Dick’s eyes cracked open. He was on the floor, lying on his stomach. Something heavy was sitting across most of his body, pinning him down. He could feel something warm and wet seeping into his suit, but he didn’t know where it was coming from.

Wally screamed Dick’s name again, his fear finally bringing Dick to awareness.

I’m here. His voice was weak; it was hard for Dick to marshal enough strength to even send the thought to the mind-link. Maybe he should be concerned about that, but right now his only concern was Wally.

Oh my God! Are you okay? Can you move? Wally’s relief washed over him through the link like a balm, easing some of Dick’s pain.

I’m...trapped. Something’s on top of me. Even those few words were hard to form. He probably had one hell of a concussion.

Hang tight, okay babe? I’m on my way. The girls are moved to a safe distance to recover, but I’m coming, all right? Just stay with me, Dick.

It was hard to keep his eyes open. Everything hurt. He closed his eyes, but Wally yelped through the link.

Stay awake! You can’t close your eyes, okay? Just talk to me. What do you see?

It’s...really hot. There’s fire...pieces of wood. And barbecue sauce.

‘Barbecue sauce?’

Yeah. It’s all over the place.

Shit. Shit. Babe, I don’t think that’s barbecue sauce. Wally’s voice was calm, but Dick could feel his panic and terror spike even higher.

I can’t see anything else, Dick murmured. Too smoky.

I’m almost there, okay? Just stay awake for me. You can do that, right?

Yeah, Dick whispered. I can do that.

His head felt fuzzy, his eyelids heavy, but Dick forced himself to stay awake. Wally told him not to fall asleep, so he wouldn’t do that.

But he was so, so tired.

He was running out of air. The fire was taking it all; every breath hurt.

There was a crash off to Dick’s left as Wally slammed full-force into the rubble, opening up a hole in the wall. Fresh air surged inside, and some of the pressure on Dick’s lungs eased.

Wally scrambled over the rubble to Dick’s side, slipping on the drying blood surrounding him.

“Hey,” he said aloud, resting his hand on Dick’s cheek. “Found you.”

Dick tried to respond, but he was too tired to even form the words.

“It’s okay,” Wally said, brushing strands of black hair out of Dick’s eyes. “Don’t try to talk. I’ll get you out of here, okay?”

Dick tried to nod; he must have succeeded, because Wally was shifting his focus to whatever was pinning Dick down.

Artemis, please tell me you’re recovered enough to help out. I can’t lift this by myself. Wally was trying to stay calm, but Dick could feel his desperation through the link. He was terrified.

Already on my way.

Wally pressed up against the chunk of wood, grunting as he tried to lift it. He managed to lift it a few inches, but a searing bolt of pain shot through Dick’s gut. A ragged scream was torn from his throat, and Wally immediately released the chunk of rubble.

Dick’s ears rang, black spots dancing in his vision. He was vaguely aware of Wally apologizing and pleading with Dick to stay still, but he couldn’t focus. It was as if the movement of the rubble above him had made his body realize how much pain it was in. Shockwaves of agony rippled from his abdomen outward; distantly, Dick realized that he must have been impaled by the rubble on top of him.

At least he knew where the “barbecue sauce” had come from.

By the time the ringing in Dick’s ears had faded, Artemis had arrived. She and Wally were arguing over what to do via mind-link.

We can’t lift it! It’s impaled in his gut, Artemis!

If he stays here much longer, he’ll die! We have to move him.

Wally sighed. Fine. But we have to make it quick. It’s hurting him.

Instead of replying, Artemis moved to Dick’s other side, bracing herself against the chunk of rubble.

Wally’s worried green eyes found Dick’s. I’m sorry. This is going to hurt.

Dick mustered his strength. Confused and weakened as he was, he still understood the urgency of the situation. Do it.

Wally glanced at Artemis. On three. One, two...three!

They both began lifting with all their strength. Immediately, the pain in Dick’s gut flared, and he couldn’t bite down the scream that bubbled in his throat. It felt like someone was twisting a hot fork around his insides. He barely recognized his own screams; ragged and hoarse, like a trapped animal.

Hurry! Wally cried desperately. It’s killing him!

They gave one last heave, sending one more burst of pure agony through Dick’s body. He must have passed out, because the next thing he knew, Wally was pulling him into his arms and lifting.

The movement sent a wave of dizziness through Dick, and he squeezed his eyes shut with a groan.

“It’s okay,” Wally murmured, clutching him tighter. “We’re getting out. Just hang on a little longer, babe.”

Dick kept his eyes closed, but the farther they went, the cooler and clearer the air was. Until finally, they were out.

It was all a blur after that. Someone was shouting to get back to headquarters, and Dick was carefully set down on a hard, flat surface. He felt the ground tilt as they lifted off, and then his world went black.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Batman wanted to take Dick back to Gotham to recover, but he wasn’t in any condition to be moved yet. He’d been unconscious ever since the disastrous botch that was the Scarecrow mission, nearly a week ago.

Wally didn’t go home much during that week. He’d called Barry and told him what was going on, and the older speedster encouraged Wally to stay with Dick for the time being. He promised to tell Wally’s parents where he was and why he wasn’t going to be home.

The whole team set up camp in the infirmary, making a pile of blankets and pillows beside Dick’s bed so they wouldn’t have to leave. Right now they were helping M’gann bake cookies for Dick when he woke up, leaving the room empty except for Dick and Wally. He didn’t feel up to leaving his side just yet.

Dick’s body was swathed in bandages. Miraculously, he had no broken bones, but the piece of wood that had impaled him had done some serious damage. If it had been just a few inches farther in any direction, Dick might have been paralyzed or killed instantly. Instead, he would just be coming away with a thick scar on his stomach.

His chest rose and fell with even breaths, and Wally forced himself to calm down. Every time he closed his eyes he was standing outside that burning building, with Dick trapped and bleeding out somewhere inside.

It had been close. Probably the closest it had ever been in a long time. It was the part of the job that Wally would never get used to, seeing his friends and boyfriend getting hurt every day. He hated feeling so helpless.

Wally was broken from his thoughts by a soft groan. His gaze snapped up. Dick’s eyes were open, the clear, dark blue of the sky stretching to the horizon. He tilted his head to look at Wally.

“I’m not dead, am I?” His voice was hoarse.

Wally laughed. “You certainly gave it your best shot. How are you feeling?”

Dick briefly closed his eyes. “Kind of like a burning building fell on me. And thirsty.”

Wally reached for the glass on the nightstand. He slid his hand behind Dick’s head and carefully helped him drink, then returned the glass.

“You should rest,” he said, standing up to leave. Dick caught his hand, holding him in place.

“I should. But I don’t want you to leave.”

Wally sighed and sat back down. “All right.” He squeezed Dick’s hand. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Dick smiled at that. “Me too. Dying would suck.”

They stayed like that for a long time, holding hands, until Dick finally fell back asleep.

Wally kissed Dick’s forehead before finally standing up to leave.

After all, those cookies should be nearly done, and he wanted to snag one before M’gann set them aside.

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

a/n: I have a headcanon that the team can feel each other’s emotions through the mind-link, and that they can use it to communicate almost as well as with words. And you can’t tell me M’gann doesn’t bake cookies for her teammates every chance she gets. You just can’t.

thanks for reading! I love likes, but if you reblog I will literally love you forever

[spicycreativity]

Good Omens but Make It Moceit (unfinished)

I said I would do it and I tried very, very hard but it's not looking like I'm going to be able to finish because ✨mental health reasons✨

Here's what I have so far (about 8k words)

EDEN

It is a little-known theological fact that the invention of the hypothetical coincided nearly perfectly with the invention of the thunderstorm, the latter being a rather effable invention of God, all things considered, and the former springing forth from the troubled mind of Phaedaël, the angel of the Eastern gate. The first drops of rain pattered to the ground and he curved one wing upward to protect his head. Addressing his companion, he said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I should be talking to you."

"Oh, and what a shame," cooed the serpent, who hadn't yet chosen a name, "and here I was so hoping you'd wring the details out of me."

"Oh," said the angel, considering this. He shifted uncomfortably, and made a face like he'd just been forced to swallow something bitter. "Well… What did you say to her?"

"Don't patronize me," said the serpent. He paused. "I don't suppose you could enlighten me, angel, on what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil?"

"They broke the rules," said the angel firmly.

"I don't suppose it matters that the rule was arbitrary?" The angel drew in a breath to reply, but the serpent cut him off, looking him up and down suddenly as though seeing him for the first time. A sly smile tugged at his lips. "Lose something?"

"No!" said the angel, far too quickly.

"Oh, come on. Lying doesn't become an angel."

"It's not a lie!" the angel insisted.

"Well, then. Please do tell me what happened to that flaming sword of yours."

The rain began to fall in earnest. A thunderclap sounded overhead. The angel said, "What if you had an opportunity to help someone--"

"What if?" repeated the serpent incredulously.

"What if," persisted the angel, "someone could benefit from something you were supposed to have, but weren't really using?"

The serpent began to laugh. "Don't tell me you gave it--" he gestured into the distance-- "to them?" A few more hysterical cackles escaped his chest, but he swallowed the rest down at the anguished look on the angel's face. "Oh, relax. If you did it, it can't have been bad, can it? Angels don't do bad."

"And demons don't do good?" the angel looked at the serpent with uncertainty.

"Oh, yes," purred the serpent, "we're wicked to the core."

The angel went silent, considering this.

The thunder roared, the rain came down harder, the serpent remained, and the angel very gently lifted his other wing to keep his companion dry.

Who, after all, prayed for the Devil?

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

God (God)

Logan (Patton's overseer)

Satan (A Fallen Angel; The Fallen Angel, one might say)

Remus (Janus' overseer)

Janus (An angel who did not so much fall as back away muttering "I'm really going to do it this time; no one try to stop me")

Roman (a lover)

Virgil (an Antichrist)

Dog (hellhound, hellraiser, and sleeping partner)

21 YEARS AGO

In the Valendale Regional Military Cemetery lurked a demon.

Well, he lurked as best as he was able, given that the ambiance was all off for lurking. He had fudged the timing a little, being unaccustomed to the nature of the passage of time on Earth, and had accidentally arrived just in time to witness a beautiful sunrise over Florida's eastern coast. Half the sky was a magnificent golden ocean with waves of orange and pink. The military cemetery had also been a mistake, though this one bothered him less. While he had been hoping for something a little more ancient and decrepit, he soon began to console himself by playing hopscotch on the clean, flat grave markers, delighting in the muddy bootprints he left behind him.

Besides, he liked the way 'military cemetery' rolled off the tongue.

When he inevitably got bored of desecrating graves, he threw himself down in the grass and began to look for worms and bugs with which he might decorate his uniform.

This was Remus, a Duke of Hell.

He found a worm and began to speak to it, watching it writhe around in his palm. "I'm so bored."

He spent a good few seconds coming up with a voice to use to represent the worm, then asked himself in a high-pitched squeak, "Why's that, your

Grace?"

Remus cupped the worm in his hands and rolled over, nearly kicking the basket he'd brought with him. This bothered him less than it rightfully should have, considering what was inside. He only gave a blithe "Oops!" and returned his attention to the worm. "That little subordinate of mine is making me wait!"

The worm said, "You should punish him!"

"Good idea!" Remus exclaimed, stroking the worm with his fingertip. "What do you think, should I spank him? Make him kiss my boots? Or--" He cut himself off, having just caught sight of flashing red and blue lights in the near distance. Sirens had been echoing on and off throughout the night, but they were very near now. "There's my bitch!" he said with undisguised affection. He put the worm in his pocket and stood up.

The Interstate Highway System was ostensibly developed under the command of United States President Dwight D Eisenhower in order to facilitate the movement of personal use vehicles, public transportation vehicles, and self-propelled field artillery across the country. This project, as anyone who has ever attempted to traverse the Interstate Highway System can tell you, was a catastrophic failure. The criss-crossing network of freeways, highways, turnpikes, and byways is frequently backed up with bumper-to-bumper traffic.

What most hapless travelers of the Interstate Highway System do not know is that the cloverleaf interchange, one of the most commonly-used interchanges in city planning, is also the exact same shape as the sigil det in the written language of the Church of the Black Clock. Written correctly, it means "black fire upon my enemies, devour their souls!" (Note: Written incorrectly, it reads "kneel, gay men.") Every day, commuters slow traffic via their own ill-wishes on fellow drivers, granted life by the sigil. (It is a known fact that every driver on the freeway considers every other driver on the freeway an enemy).

It was one of Janus' most diabolical achievements. He was quite proud of himself, not only in the end result but in his methods. While a lesser demon might have had to go to the trouble of hands-on work: hacking computers, making bribes, and, Satan-forbid, possibly even sneaking out at night to move marker pegs by hand, all Janus had had to do was talk. He was quite good at getting people to do his bidding once he got his foot in the door.

Something Janus had inexplicably failed to account for was the fact that he, too, would occasionally need to use the freeway system. Such was the curse of Janus' great evil deeds: more often than not, they slalomed between his legs like a wily terrier and bit him squarely on the ass.

The irony snuck up on him sometimes.

Janus had dark hair and high cheekbones. His eyes and tongue were really only unusual if you looked at them twice, and he had a tendency to hiss when he forgot himself. He looked far too young, far too handsome, and far too svelte for the 1957 Cadillac Deville he was driving, bearing no resemblance at all to the sort of wealthy, elderly man who deals in classic cars.

He checked his watch, which also seemed too old for him, and glanced at the rearview mirror. Normally he enjoyed the minor thrill of having cops on his tail, but his exit was coming up and he did have someplace to be.

What he did next lacked imagination, but it got the job done: With one complicated hand gesture, he turned both officers into pigs and gently glided their cars to the shoulder. Then he turned on his blinker and took his exit.

Remus watched the police lights disappear  with impassivity, bouncing on his toes. When Janus finally emerged through the wrought iron gates, having bent reality to get past them, he raised his arms and shouted, "Hail Satan!"

Janus acknowledged this with two lifted fingers. "So sorry I'm late," he said, bringing his hand smoothly upward to tip his hat, "it's just that I don't value your time in comparison to mine." The sarcastic inflection was so light the words could very well be sincere. But of course Janus always meant every word of what he'd said. (Now that's

sarcastic inflection)!

Remus gave a feral grin. Janus was his favorite subordinate. "Wanna see my worm?"

Millennia of acquaintanceship had freed Janus from the notion that he needed to be polite to Remus. The demon was as twisted as they came and nearly immune to flattery. "As much as I'd love to, shouldn't we get this over with?"

"Yeah, yeah." Remus looked around. "Hm, now where did I put the basket?"

The basket was currently sitting atop the headstone for a General T. Pratchett. Janus spied it first and indicated it to Remus with a flicker of his yellow irises, careful not to let a trace of his hesitancy show on his face. He didn't even let himself hesitate when Remus, who had hopscotched over to the basket and then back over to Janus, thrust it out to him.

"So this is really it," Janus murmured, wrapping both gloved hands around the handle of the basket. Then he began to work. "What a high honor."

"So they say," Remus said.

"Remus, be honest with me." Brief pause, just enough for Remus to wonder at the weight in Janus' voice. "Did you pull some strings to ensure I was the one who got this task? Do I owe you a favor?"

"Are you about to thank me?" Remus asked, tilting his head. Addressing the worm in his breast pocket, he said, "Listen up, this should be good."

"So you did?"

"Of course not."

Here it was. After a few seconds of rallying, his ace: "So why me?"

"You've been in the field the longest." Remus' grin widened to an impossible degree and he grabbed Janus by the lapels of his immaculate suit jacket, coming nose to nose. "Some of us think you're getting soft."

Janus smiled back, the unblinking predator's grin of a snake about to strike, and hefted the basket. "We'll see about that." And he extricated his lapels from Remus' grasp and turned to leave.

"You didn't say hi to my worm!" Remus called after him. Janus did not reply. Remus fished the worm out of his pocket. "How rude."

"The nerve of some demons," agreed the worm.

The Cadillac's speedometer hit 110. Janus fumbled for the volume knob with a shaking hand. The radio was permanently set to 98.5 The Jukebox, which only ever seemed to play Queen.

"Shit," Janus muttered as majestic panned harmonies began to emanate from his speakers. "Shit-shit-shit. Why now? Why me?"

BECAUSE, came the harmonic vocals, YOU'VE EARNED IT.

Janus bit down on his tongue to keep from swearing. Communication via electronics had been another one of his ideas, hoping he'd be issued a BlackBerry or a Nokia. But no. Instead, upper management just cut into whatever he was listening to at the time and twisted it. "Thank you very much, my lord," he said, working very very hard to instill his voice with the proper amount of unctuous ooze.

THIS IS IMPORTANT, JANUS.

"Yes, my lord."

THIS IS THE BIG ONE.

"Yes, my lord."

AND YOU UNDERSTAND, JANUS, THAT IF THIS GOES WRONG, EVERYONE INVOLVED WILL BE PUNISHED. EVEN YOU. ESPECIALLY YOU.

"I understand."

GOOD. YOUR INSTRUCTIONS.

And suddenly, he just knew. A new Queen song began to play on 98.5 The Jukebox, and Janus hissed and slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. "What was the point of all that, then?" he demanded of Freddie Mercury.

Freddie Mercury replied, "Don't stop me now! 'Cause I'm havin' a good time!"

Janus rolled his eyes and changed lanes without signaling. He had been instructed to head straight to a hospital on the edge of town. It was technically in an unincorporated community called Misty, but for all intents and purposes, Misty was Valendale. If he kept up this pace (the needle of the speedometer now closer to 130), he could be there in five minutes. Joy.

It had all been going so well, too. He'd really hit his stride in the 21st century, and now here was Hell pulling the rug out from under his shiny Armani brogues. Armageddon. What a nightmare.

In the Publix baking aisle, two angels stood side by side. One of them was Phaedaël, who had lately adopted the name 'Patton,' feeling it suited his corporation.

The other had been christened 'Loirea' once upon a time. As Heaven began to

modernize, Loirea had been the first among the angels to adapt to the changes being made. He had even taken on the name 'Logan' as a show of good faith. 

Both of the angels were human-shaped, having discovered early on that it's much easier to get things done when you have limbs as opposed to flaming wheels of eyes and animal heads poking out at odd angles.

Both wore glasses. Patton's glasses were round, wire-rimmed things, of the sort usually found on kindly old librarians and stern but fair headmasters of all-boy's boarding schools. Logan's glasses were made of shiny black plastic and looked like they could draw blood if strategically applied to a sufficiently tender area.

Patton was, at the moment, holding a bag a semolina flour under one arm and awkwardly attempting to explain himself. "It's called 'cooking.' It's actually really clever, you take ingredients and combine them--"

"Why?" Logan interrupted 

"Oh, uh, well," Patton hesitated, shamefaced, "it makes food."

"Eating," Logan said in such a forceful tone of dismissal that three boxes of brownie mix turned to ash behind him. "I don't understand why you waste your time."

"It helps me blend in," Patton said with a sheepish smile. Everything from his shoes to his shirt was a shade of white or blue; he'd never been comfortable dealing in gray areas.

"I see." Logan adjusted his tie. "Well, I'll let you get back to it in a moment. I just came to pass on a message: Our intel has given us reason to believe that Armageddon is underway."

"Oh," said Patton vaguely, staring at a bag of something labeled 'pasta flour.' "Oh!"

"We'd like for you to keep an eye on Janus. He's a demon; he's on a similar mission to yours."

"I, uh," Patton swallowed hard, staring right through the pasta flour, "I've heard of him."

"Good." Logan put his hand on Patton's shoulder and looked him dead in the eye. "Patton."

"Y-yes?"

"When I say 'keep an eye on' I mean I want you to watch him. It's a figure of speech."

Patton nodded, forcing his mouth to curve into a pale imitation of a smile. Logan nodded back and vanished.

"Well," Patton said to the pasta flour, "fiddlesticks."

Brother Emile Analogical had been raised a Satanist. There is no such thing as an orthodox Satanist, but if there was, that would be the kind of Satanism that Brother Emile's parents had practiced. He had graduated with unspectacular grades, joined the Paralleling Order of Saint Botild, and promptly moved from Nebraska to Florida: more specifically, to the unincorporated community of Misty in the greater Valendale area. The climate had taken some getting used to, not to mention the long, black robes he had to wear, but he had survived the transition and found himself a good fit for the Paralleling Order.

Note: Saint Botild Comminalitus of Malmö was reputed to have been martyred in the middle of the fifth century, for reasons unclear. It is said that the Lord granted him the power to draw parallels and connections between topics; his last words are reported to have been "This reminds me of that one story about Loptr, when he--" Then his assailants lit the pyre.

At the moment, Brother Emile was thinking about the tall, dark figure stalking down the hallways at him holding a basket, likening him to a Scooby-Doo villain, the way the shadows seemed to stick to him.

"Jinkies!" said Brother Emile once the figure was in earshot.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him over the tops of his sunglasses. "Hello."

Unphased by the cold greeting, Brother Emile pointed to the basket. "Is that the fairly odd baby?" he asked in a high-pitched coo that indicated he already suspected the answer.

"No," said Janus, rolling his eyes. "It's a basket of kittens I saved from drowning. Aren't you wondering why I'm all wet?"

"You're," Brother Emile started, and Janus braced himself, fearing the last frayed thread of his patience might snap if the sentence ended with the word 'dry,' "a Mister Grumpy Gills, aren't you?'

Janus thrust the basket at Brother Emile and did not dignify him with any answer more notable than a slight thinning of

his lips.

Brother Emile drew back the blankets and began to babble at the sleeping Antichrist. Janus took the opportunity to flee.

"Look at you," Brother Emile said happily. "Sleeping in a pic-a-nic basket, huh, Boo-boo?"

After a few more moments of cooing, babytalk, and Boomerang references, he remembered himself and found a wheeled bassinet for the baby Antichrist. 

There is a game, common among carnies and street magicians in which a ball is hidden under cups and shuffled around. Unbeknownst to himself, the two sets of new parents, and all the friars at St Botild's, Brother Emile Analogical was about to become a mark.

And Hell had had nothing to do with it.

same rate, and good and evil had a knack for balancing themselves out in the grand scheme of things. And this left Janus and Patton free to pursue other passions, which somehow resulted in the two of them spending a great deal of time in each other's company.

silence. "It's not even that I disagree with you," he said apologetically. "It's just, well, you know, I'm not allowed to disobey."

his hazelnut hot chocolate. "What's a shame?"

Janus nodded. "Roman Dowling."

Roman was about to turn 21, and lived his life according to the belief that everyone over the age of 30 was, in some degree, an 'elder').

wanna do that."

"Roman!"

people; every social interaction, no matter how minor, always kept his body as tense as wire.