#as an iron maiden fan and also someone that knows this book is mostly just a cash grab for the eddie girlies....

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 20

So, I basically set this fic in BBC’s Merlin, minus any of the actual characters. Any fellow fans out there? Anyway, I wasn’t sure what to do for today’s prompt for a while before this idea came to me, then I got to spend an afternoon researching. ;) Hope you enjoy!

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Day 20 - Medieval

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: restraints, death mention, torture, dislocation, broken bones, mild blood, mild gore

The city of Prakkus was stuck in medieval times. At first, they thought it was just the architecture, which really did look like a citadel straight out of the Earth Middle Ages. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge had started in on the “dragons and knights in shining armor” comments right off the bat, which Keith had listened to with silent amusement. 

Then they actually got inside, and the natives - a pink-skinned, mostly humanoid race that called themselves Dornads - were all dressed in long gowns, tunics, and robes. It really did look like they had stepped into the pages of a history book. Even Keith caught himself looking around in awe at everything, and the Garrison trio’s commentary just became even more animated. 

It wasn’t until later, though, that they’d realize just how stuck in the medieval era these people were. Not until they were greeting King Uster and discussing an alliance, and Pidge brought up a holographic screen from her gauntlet, and the throne room exploded with shouts of treason.

Not until they were being accused of sorcery and dragged down deep below the castle, into a real-life dungeon lit only by torches along the walls and guarded by Dornads wearing polished armor.

Their own armor was taken, leaving them with no easy way out of the cell they were all thrown into. The only good news was that their flight suits still managed to keep out the chill, since in true medieval fashion there was no heating in the dungeon. 

Bright and early the next morning, they were woken by a guard banging on the bars of their cell door. 

“You.” He pointed a gloved finger straight at Keith. “You are the leader here, are you not?”

Hunk’s hand gripped his arm, but he shook it off and stood before anyone else could protest. “I am.”

“Come with me.” 

The others scrambled to their feet, firing off questions about where he was being taken and why, but Keith just followed the guard’s directions and stuck his hands out the gap in the door so that thick iron shackles could be clamped around his wrists. “It’s okay, guys. We’ll get all of this figured out.”

“Just tell them the truth, Keith,” Allura urges. “It may take some work, but surely they will understand if you explain it to them.” 

Right. Because he had always been so good with words, with explaining. That was her job, and Shiro’s job, not his. It was one of the many reasons he sucked at being the leader. 

But he could do this part. He could take responsibility for his team, take whatever they wanted to throw at him just to make sure the others stayed safe and unhurt. 

He was led all the way back to the throne room they had been in the day before, and shoved to his knees in front of King Uster. The man looked down at him in disdain from underneath his golden crown. 

“Black Paladin of Voltron. You kneel before this court today accused of the crime of sorcery. Do you recant?”

“Sir, with all due respect, I think there has been a misunderstanding. What you saw yesterday wasn’t magic, it was just an electronic -”

“Do you recant?”

Pressing his lips together, Keith tried his best not to be annoyed at the interruption. “There are other planets and races that are more technologically advanced th-”

“Do you recant?” The King was practically shouting now. “Your crime has already been pronounced.The penalty for practicing sorcery is death. However, if you recant on behalf of yourself and your associates, there will be no further punishment.”

Keith furrowed his brow. “So wait, you’re just gonna kill us without a trial? Without even listening to an explanation?”

“You really expect to need a trial after your crime was witnessed by so many, including myself? I suggest you recant now.”

“And if I don’t?” he shot back.

The King’s three eyes narrowed. “Then, Black Paladin, you will return to the dungeon to face the honed skills of my punisher until you do recant. Then you and your associates shall all be executed.”

So, torture. Right. Not something he was looking forward to, but what he was hearing was that the other choice was to admit to something he didn’t do and immediately get him and his team killed. If he refused, then he got tortured, but they all got to live in the meantime. That was more time for someone to come up with an escape plan, or for Coran to realize something was amiss and figure out how to get them out.

He lifted his chin. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

King Uster leaned back in his throne and flicked a dismissive hand. “Take him away.”

The trip back down was rougher than the trip up. The guard pulled him so quickly that his feet could barely keep up, almost dragging him down the stone steps. He had hoped that the torture would be happening in a separate area from the cells so that his teammates would be none the wiser, but unfortunately it was in an open space just down the hall. Down the hall past the cells.

“Keith!”

“Keith, what’s going on?”

He threw the best smile he could muster their way as he was yanked past. “It’s okay. Just...keep thinking.”

He hoped they’d know what he meant. It was all he had time to say, and he didn’t want any extra suspicion on them. But he really needed them to figure out a way to escape.

The torture room looked exactly how he imagined it would. There were chains dangling from the ceiling, clamps and knives and various devices of unknown use hanging on every wall. Keith was led straight to something that he was pretty sure he recognized before they even began strapping him down to it.  

It was a table of sorts, sitting at an incline. The shackles were taken from his wrists, only to be replaced with the metal cuffs attached to ropes on the higher end of the table. Identical cuffs at the low end were put around his ankles - after his boots were removed - so that he was lying on his back with his arms stretched up over his head. Though he knew stretched wasn’t really the word to describe it, not compared to how they were about to be.

Sure enough, the guard stepped to the crank on one end of the table, and a newcomer, the “punisher”, he assumed, took the place by his feet. 

“All you must do is recant to make this end.”

The cranks began to turn. The rope tightened. It went just past pulling taut to the point of putting pressure on his limbs before they stopped.

“Do you recant?”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.”

The ropes went tighter. A mild ache started up in his joints.

“Do you recant?”

“It’s called science.”

Another turn, and his knees and elbows began to creak.

“Do you recant?”

“No.”

His knees and elbows were dangerously close to pulling out of their sockets, and his hips and shoulders were popping.

“Do you recant?”

Keith swallowed a groan. You can’t scream. You can’t scream. They don’t need to hear this, you can’t scream.

The crank turned. His knees and elbows dislocated with a loud crack. 

He screamed.

“Keith!” he could barely hear from down the hall. Other shouts accompanied, but they all blurred together.

“Do you recant?”

Another turn brought the ropes tight again, and his dislocated joints cried out. His back arched, as if it could somehow relieve the pressure.

The punisher walked away for a moment, only to return holding a small piece of wood with round holes cut through it. He fit the holes over the toes of Keith’s right foot, then produced a wooden chisel and a hammer. 

Keith didn’t know what was coming for sure, but he knew he wasn’t going to like it.

“Do you recant?”

“Just do it,” he growled.

The chisel was wedged into the hole housing his smallest toe, then the hammer slammed into the end of it. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose as the bone broke, but managed not to make anymore noise.

He didn’t, in fact, through all the other toes, until it was the big toe snapping. Then he let out a moan through his teeth that he hoped was too quiet for the others to hear. 

“Do you recant?” 

“No!”

Back to the cranks again. His shoulders weren’t going to last much longer. It took another two turns, and agonizing pain in his already destroyed joints, for them to simultaneously pop out of place. 

He screamed again, and his team echoed their own cries right back.

How hard would it be, his traitorous mind started to think, to confess to using magic? That’s all it would take to make him stop.

But the sound of his friends’ voices kept him from giving in. He had to stay strong. He had to. Otherwise they’d be dead by tomorrow.

“Do you recant?”

His hips were next, and hopefully last, to go. If they went any further, it would be his spine, and he was pretty sure they didn’t want to kill him. Yet. Though the pain was making his brain so fuzzy, he wasn’t even completely sure about that anymore.

The punisher leaned over him. “Do you recant?”

Keith couldn’t have answered even if he wanted to.

The cuffs were removed from his wrists and ankles, and he was jerked up from the rack with more force than necessary. A strangled cry ripped from his throat. The guard marched him across the room, though it was less a march than a series of stumbles on Keith’s part. His legs and toes were in more pain than he realized was possible, but if he fell then they’d just drag him by his also ruined arms. 

A coffin-shaped structure loomed before him. Two doors swung open from the front, revealing an interior filled with short spikes.

“Perhaps a night spent with the Iron Maiden will change your mind.”

The guard shoved him forward and adjusted him until he stood in the tiny space in the center. All his weight settled onto his dislocated hips and knees. Tears sprang into his eyes unbidden, but he gritted his teeth and refused to look away as the heavy, spiked doors came swinging in toward him.

Then it was dark. Completely, pitch black dark, and the only sound he could hear was his own labored breathing.

But he didn’t have to see the metal spikes to know they were still there. He could feel them, pricking at his skin every time he swayed the slightest bit in any direction. His legs hurt, so badly. He wasn’t even sure how he was standing on them at all, and had a feeling that it wouldn’t last for much longer. If he could raise his arms, he could brace himself against the walls somehow, but even if he had been able to get them past the spikes without shredding them he couldn’t will his shoulders to move.

Slowly, over the next...he didn’t even know, because time was impossible to mark in the darkness and silence...Keith found himself sinking backwards and to one side. He couldn’t help it. Yes, the spikes were embedding themselves into his flesh. Yes, it hurt. But at least it took his mind off the rest of his pain, just a bit. 

And as gruesome as it was, the spikes were helping to hold him up, by his ribs if nothing else, taking some of the pressure off his hips and knees.

It felt like hours and hours later when the doors opened again, leaving a barely conscious Keith to groan and squint his eyes shut against the torchlight that filtered in. There was a flurry of voices and movement, multiple pairs of hands grasped his arms, legs, and torso, and he was gently eased off of the spikes and out of the metal box. He whimpered as blood began to flow from the newly opened holes.

“I know, Keith, I know,” a voice whispered. “It’s alright. It’s alright.”

A gentle hand was stroking his hair. His eyelids fluttered open, and he could just make out the blurry face that hovered over him.

“‘llura…you...got out.”

She smiled tightly. “Yes. I just wish it had been sooner.”

“Why’d you do it, man?” He knew Lance’s voice, though he couldn’t will his head to turn to see him. “Why’d you let them do this to you? You could have just told them what they wanted to hear!”

“They were gonn’...” Keith clenched his teeth as a wave of pain washed over him, “ex’cute everybody. Had t’...stall. So you could get out.” The corner of his mouth turned up as he returned Allura’s worried gaze. “I’m the leader. ‘s my job t’ protect you.”

“Well, now I’ve officially made it our job to protect you.”

“No arguments here.” Lance stood. “I see Hunk and Pidge coming back with our armor. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Allura stood, too, picking Keith up in her arms. He bit back a groan. “Popsicle stand? What is a popsicle, and why are we blowing its stand?”

Keith let his eyes slip shut. “I could eat a po’sicle right now. Soun’s good.”

Lance chuckled and ruffled his hair softly. “Soon as we get back to the Castle, I’ll make sure Hunk makes you as many popsicles as you want.”

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Nicole's Rambling: The Avengers Problem (for PS4)

Let's start with the usual chanting: ❗this is my opinion, it's biased as hell (since I grew up with Marvel comic books and movies) and you don't have to agree❗

I was wondering why Avengers game gets so hated... So I took a look and I played it myself. Let’s have a look.

SPOILERS AHEAD

First off: the game isn't in any way horribly bad. It's just a button smasher with a story that has its good and bad beats. It's not memorable at all, but it could've gone way more downhill in my opinion.

At the start of the game, you meet the mighty Avengers through child fan's eyes - it's pure fanservice and let's be honest, it's dope. It was sweet, but pretty dragged, to be honest. I really didn't need to play as all five Avengers (HAWKEYE IS MISSING, AGAIN) in the first hour of the game, but sure, why not?

For the most part, you see the squad through Kamala Khan's eyes. For those who might have not a clue who the hell Kamala is; I am not wondering about why you don't know who the hell she is. She's a Marvel heroine who outed in 2013 and who will have her own spinoff on Disney+.

And again, Ms Marvel is fine, but not memorable at all. I've never, until this day, met anyone who would say that 'Ms Marvel is my favourite superhero'. I was halfway through the game before I even realized it's Ms Marvel - AFTER SHE PULLED HER DAMN COSTUME OUT. That can be due to my utter ignorance or because I heard of her so little that I can count it on my fingers. In all honesty, I loved Kamala as the story progressed, the gal's not bad at all - but as the whole game, she had good and bad beats. There were times where I wished to play as Iron Man and the game forced me to play as her... Whatever.

Let's look at the three problems I have with this game and three positives I found in the game:

0. (Technically zero since it's a personal problem of mine) The soundtrack and the voice actors:

By any means, I am not trying to say they should hire RDJ for the role of Iron Man and Mark Ruffalo for the role of Banner... But it was so hard to distinguish the voice of Nolan North (For example: Nathan Drake x Iron Man) and Troy Baker (Samuel Drake x Bruce Banner). For me, as for a PS4 gamer, it's annoying to hear the same voices again and again in every game I am genuinely excited about (Idk how Xbox players are familiar with them). Of course, there's even Laura Bailey as the Black Widow; I feel like these are the three only people who do voice acting for games these days and sure, I should've seen that coming.

Side note: Nolan North is not a good fit for Iron Man in the slightest in my opinion, but if you like his Iron Man, that's cool as well!

The soundtrack... M A N, the soundtrack. When I heard Marvel gave a green light to the Avengers game, I expected to hear at least the iconic Alan Silvestri's 'The Avengers'. Problem with this is simple: Marvel had spoiled its consumers with good and memorable soundtracks (don't you tell me you don't remember as they all gathered for the first time). Since it was Marvel itself who gave the green light for this project, which was supposed to be based loosely on the movies' and comic book success, I hoped to get all of it.

It's not Iron Man when AC/DC song isn't playing in the background as he flies through a canyon for his life. I mean, Iron Maiden are fine; but come on. COME ON. It's not the same. It's not the Avengers (WITHOUT HAWKEYE) without their significant theme.

1. IT. BUGS. ALL. THE. TIME and the combat is incredibly repetitive:

When I was little, I was a rage gamer. I could barely play Crash Bandicoot or Rayman without losing my cool. Since then, I grew up, skilled and etc. I try not to rage when playing games since it's simply not worth it.

But when you're replaying a boring mission for the tenth part and you're almost over and SUDDENLY, the game bugs out and you lose control over the character (it starts running in circles, etc.) it sucks shit. And don't let me start on the minor bugs. Like when you don't cross the platform by one pixel and the game doesn't let you make combos when you're in the air and bug into a tree when you bug into a wall, a rock, fucking nothing... Bruh. It was released in August, shouldn't these bugs be fixed by now? The game is fucking broken, hoes. It barely feels like a game ready to launch at times.

When you're so lucky that you don't bug out in the middle of doing something, the combat... It isn't bad. It's not terrible, but the Avengers deserved something better. It didn't deserve mediocre combat that repeats itself in every level. Once you find yourself good combo, you're done for. You can use it to finish the game if you will.

2. There's too many missions, too much information and too much things player has to understand if he wants to play the game properly:

Okay, this might seem to be a little confusing; I didn't understand the game system at all when I first ran it on my PS4. There's story missions, HARM training sessions, daily missions for particular heroes, faction missions (SHIELD, Pym, Stark, etc.) and character-side-story missions, and a lot more.

Trust me, it doesn't sound that hard, but once you open the map menu for yourself... Oh boy, that's a different story. And if it only was the map menu. The inventory and such aren't too collected all together either. Before you can safely tell what is what, it will take you at least a whole afternoon. Also, the fact that game just spills it on you just like that, one thing after another, it doesn't help the overall feel.

On top of that, there are MULTIPLE currencies in the game; some even involve microtransaction. It mostly is involving the customization of the Avengers, so it's not THAT big of a deal; you can get one currency by collecting boxes and stuff, but it takes ages before you can buy one single thingy.

Also, if you would like to get stuff (very useful stuff) from factions (SHIELD and Pym mainly), you have to do in-factions daily quests, which usually require to do a certain amount of things as a particular hero (you can do some quests with Ms Marvel only, some with Black Widow, it usually involves the damage dealt while playing as a character etc.). And if you forget to fetch these minies? Well, no faction points for you, bucko.

The system feels overall too complicated in the begging and even after finishing the game, I am not certain by some.

3. The gameplay of the one and only... Natasha Romanov, and the entirety of Steve Rogers:

Right off the bat: IT. SUCKS. SHIT.

This was your shot in opening our mouths and showing why Black Widow BELONGS to the Avengers in the first place. Like, sure, storywise you proved the point, but gameplaywise... That's a different story.

Out of the bunch, Natasha feels the slowest, most clumsy and overall not too pleasant to play as. Mainly is because her attacks do... Nothing. The gun reloading is basically constant when I have to put it simply and it takes about 3-5 seconds for her to even reload; which can be a matter of life and death inside the game. Sure, she can make herself invisible; but that's like... It. It's not that it would be suffering when you are forced to play as Nat... But not a pleasant experience either.

On the other hand, maybe it's just me. I have friends who told me the same about her gameplay, but maybe there's someone who enjoys the Black Widow. It's my personal with the entirety of the gameplay.

Steve, on the other hand, isn't hard to play as. It's just fucking boring. At the start of the game, I couldn't wait to play as Steve's character. He seemed to be awesome - Jesus fuck, how could I be so wrong? As I said, he's incredibly boring and dry, his skills would do the same amount of work if they even weren't there. I think that Rogers is there just for the shock value (as a value that doesn't even work in the slightest) and nothing more.

As you learn to do the tricks and combos with them, it gets slightly better and skill tree and equipment upgrades can help almost unnoticeable... But really, Steve and Natasha are the absolute worst.

Now the reasons why the game convinced me it isn't a hot mess as I initially thought:

1. The characters, dynamics, chemistry and the overall story:

Sure, it is mainly a basic plotline, a cookie-cutter one, full of cliché - Avengers have to regroup after a traumatic event and you're the one who has to find them and bring them together.

Yet it is quite interesting; the game leads you to believe that Steve Rogers is dead after an event called the 'A-Day' (which you won't believe even if the game does the hardest to make you to, constantly remaining you that 'Oh boy, Cap died, did you know that?') and the Avengers had left to exile because they were considered as big bad for the people and the country. They have their emotional baggage and the banter between Banner and Stark (though it ends too soon), is just the thing that makes them human and relatable.

Even the villains are quite compelling; not like ultra super convincing, but the game can turn around when you least expect it to; which is definitely a huge plus.

The characters were done GOOD. The dialogues are full of personality and jokes you'd expect from each one of them; Banner is a wallflower cutie, Tony fishes for compliments all the time, Natasha is the big independent woman she always was and Thor? CHEF'S KISS, I swear. It hits the Shakespearean vibe perfectly and at the same time, he still is charming and quite funny to hang around.

Every time you can listen to a chit-chat between two characters, it is a great pleasure for you as a Marvel fan. Also, I need to say that regardless of my personal issue with the dub (regarding Tony and Bruce; since they're the people you spend most of your time with), the dialogues for these two characters are on point without a doubt. And I kinda grew fond of the in-game Bruce Banner throughout the course of the game, to be honest.

There are references, jokes, inside jokes, one-liners... The dialogue was done amazingly and that's a huge   T H A N K   Y O U  to the developers.

2. The mind-blowing gameplay of... Tony Stark and Thor and AI, while not being too bright, getting stronger as you do:

In what the Natasha gameplay lacks, these two give you exactly what would you expect and way, way more than you'd ask for. Again, it mainly reflects the personal gameplay preferences of the player; let me tell you why I think these gameplays are, in my opinion, the best.

a) Tony's gadgets and weaponry: The suit itself is bloody brilliant. Once you master the ability to attack and fly at the same time, you have the moments when you can not only feel like Iron Man - but really be Iron Man. It's not even that your gameplay would suddenly become 10x easier; it significantly becomes funnier.

b) Thor's heavy fist-to-fist and Mjolnir preferences: the Mjolnir is bloody brilliant as well. Thor's combat is mainly physically based, but when you want to throw the hammer around like the madman you are, you can suit yourself. You can use the lightning if you please and you can fly if this style of combat suits you. It's all in your hands. Thor can take quite a bit of damage, which is significantly supporting you in this style. If you accidentally drop Mjolnir? Well, call it back and smash them!

Also, regarding the AI... As I said, they're certainly not the brightest sparks in the flame; yet thanks to the power getting bigger as you level up and continue with your story and a huge variety of enemies - from turrets to flying men with flamethrowers. It is just button smasher, but a pleasing one in this regard, I must say.

3. The fanservice to comic book fans, movie fans and loyalty to the property:

As one IGN review once said... "This game makes you feel like Batman." And this game more or less accomplished it as well, but diluted and stripped down. Of course, in no way I can compare this to the masterpiece to the Arkham saga; these games are brilliant.

But there are moments when the game can just drag you inside the story and tell you: "You're Iron Man now, boss. It's in your hands." And it's there. I think the only issue was that the team of devs just took too big of a bite. I wouldn't mind stand-alone titles emerging into one and big Avengers game. That would be fun as well and I would spend my time with it gladly.

To end it: it's a mess, but a good mess you might like. If I was to rate it, would be 5.1/10 Wait until it is on sale, don't rush it. I'm overall disappointed and I most likely will forget I have ever played it.

[disembodiedapparition]

Masterpiece

"Hello, everyone," Gerard Way began, his shifty hazel eyes darting through the crowd with nervousness, searching for a familiar face in the ocean of the inquisitive audience. "I'm here today to inaugurate this majestic gallery, which, admittedly, consists of a few of my own works" — a laugh reverberated like a ripple through the audience — "but also beautiful pieces from tons of other talented artists, like Kurt Cobain, Ray Toro, Bert McCracken..." he mindlessly listed off.

He had been coerced into "opening" for the gallery, the organizers clearly not caring about his tendency to stutter, or his crippling anxiety — "You're popular," they had reasoned. "Everyone will love you anyway."

So here he was, having around sixty simultaneous panic attacks, cheesily introducing their display of swirls and colors as the crowd scrutinized and judged his every move. As you can tell, Gerard was having the time of his life.

As he rambled on about the hard work and effort and time that everyone had put into the gallery — it's not like anyone really cared; it had become a mere formality at this point — his eyes stealthily raked over the crowd, scanning the variety of expressions on people's faces; boredom, interest, restlessness, a couple of eager relatives who were hoping their kin would be mentioned — you know, the average. Everyone at art galleries were just naturally boring, he reasoned. It was sort of a given that anyone who actually wanted to spend a good three hours just walking around and staring at brush strokes was.

His eyes suddenly landed on a young scruffy man standing apart from the crowd in total contrast; unlike the formally dressed men and women, who were clad in suits and dresses, he was wearing worn ripped jeans, muddy brown converse that had been defaced with black sharpie, and a tattered black hoodie — and Gerard wondered what someone like him was doing at some sort of fancy art convention like this.

He concluded his monotonous speech (which had surprisingly only gone on for ten minutes; really, it had felt like ages) and stepped down from the podium, as the crowd applauded, actually seeming like they'd enjoyed his half-hearted monologue; further confirmed by one of the managers patting him on the back and telling him that he'd done a great job. Gerard, however, was not focusing on the meaningless validation he was being showered with; instead choosing to occupy his thoughts with that of the young man who'd been staring at one of his comic book displays in the little corner in the back of the room.

Yeah, Gerard did comics too, and today was one of those rare events in which the managers had allowed him to put them up for display (after literally hours of persuasion, but whatever). They were in the back corner, where they wouldn't ruin the whole "abstract art" vibe they had going on, but still there, and that made him very happy — despite the fact that barely anyone ever spared a glance for the tiny superhero-themed stand in the dark shadows of the room.

He pushed his way through the chaotic swarms of art critics and interviewers, all flocking to congratulate one of the alternative scene's most popular artists — he wished he was liked solely for his artwork, but everyone knew his soft hazel eyes and fluffy black hair had a little to do with it as well; although he couldn't understand what was really attractive about him, as such. All he really did before leaving the house was brush his long fingers through his loose hair, pull on an Iron Maiden shirt or something, and yank on a (probably unwashed) pair of unfashionably faded denims — yet everyone claimed that he was an artist, he was only expressing himself.

He was making a statement.

Really, the press overanalyzed the hell out of everything he did — he could blink, and the press would conjure something up about how he closed his eyes to avoid the harsh reality of the dying earth, but opened them again to show bravery, or some bullshit like that.

Gerard finally got through the ocean of scrambling reporters and fans when one of his equally well-known peers caught the media's eyes, and they all rushed over to the latter; Gerard shot him a look of pity before wrapping his suit tighter around his chest, furtively scrambling to get near the enigmatic stranger. Which was quite funny, considering it was usually the other way round — with fans and paparazzi rushing for a photo with him, or an autograph, or a quote they could slap on the cover of their magazine.

"Hey, dude," he awkwardly started, causing the stranger to lightly choke on his coffee and whip around, his eyes settling in relief and mild irritation at the sight of the harmless looking artist who'd been on stage merely minutes ago.

"Oh my god, man, you scared me," he laughed, breathing deeply. His voice sounded playful, and his eyes were a cocoa brown, with tinges of eyeliner coating his thick lashes — Gerard immediately liked him.

"Sorry!" Gerard replied with a giggle, before pausing, rocking back and forth on his toes. "So, um, how do you feel about these..." he gesticulated erratically at the graphic novels lain open on the plastic table.

"The comics?" the tattooed man asked, scratching the back of his neck. "Dude, they were rad! I totally need to find this, uh—" he stole a glance at the cover of one of the issues. "Gerard Way guy."

Which totally made Gerard smile; he never really got any feedback on his books, apart from semi-interested kids, who'd been dragged along by their parents, flipping through the pages. An actual person who thought his comics were half-decent would be an angel in his eyes, to tell the truth — yeah, he was that thirsty for validation.

"Here he is," he laughed, as the guest's eyes widened and a light blush erupted on his freckled cheeks.

"Oh damn — that sounded stupid."

Gerard immediately shook the suggestion off, a wide grin overtaking his features.

"No really — it's fine. I'm so glad you like them, usually no one really bothers with this little stand in the first place." The stranger hummed, smiling at the illustrations on one of the pages.

"I usually don't bother with art galleries in general," the man admitted. "I mean, they're mostly filled with pretentious people trying to sell some blue blob in the midst of black smudged paint under the pretext of "deep thoughts", and a bunch of gullible, mainstream, rich people too focused on staying with everyone else that they can't understand that they're literally paying thousands for shit their kindergartener could do."

And Gerard couldn't help but choke as he realized that that was actually a perfect description of more than a few of the "abstract" paintings hung up in this place.

The man took a breath, looking at the snorting black haired man in front of him with a grin.

"Never seen comics at one though. I'll have to check out more of these places."

"Dude, are you not seeing how my managers attempted to completely hide the very existence of these things at a place as respectable as this?" Gerard chuckled. "Literally — they're actually so embarrassed that I insisted on keeping them here, a bunch of lowly comic books at their high and mighty art gallery — they probably wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the fact that I'm kind of the only reason half these people showed up."

Gerard realized his last few words sounded mildly egoistic, relieved when he noted that his new companion didn't seem to mind much, in contrast actually nodding along with him.

"Yeah, I bet at least half the girls are here because of you," he winked, causing Gerard's lips to round into a surprised O, shaking his head before a throaty laugh escaped his throat.

"Wha- no! They're not — they don't—"

The stranger burst out into peals of laughter at Gerard's flustered state, as Gerard slowly realized he didn't even know the dude's name.

"What's your name anyway?" he questioned, a grin tugging on his lips.

"Frank," he replied, while Gerard just laughed again at the contrast — the guy had such a childlike personality, yet he was called one of the most serious names in history, Frank — honestly, he was beginning to think someone had spiked one of the drinks he'd had tonight. Since when did he laugh so much?

Maybe it's because you're not hanging out with some boring wannabe Da Vinci for once, his subconscious told him, and Gerard proceeded to ignore that suggestion, and stick with his spiked drink theory.

[pricechecktranslations]

TTDS: The Three Daughters of Sir Torture; Chapter 3

Torture Tower Doesn’t Sleep: The Three Daughters of Sir Torture infomine under the cut

Character Info:

Beritoodo (Beritoad): Not actually a god, of course--just a wraith. Has been alive for a very, very long time. He has alchemy powers (which allows him to, for example, make gold). He is also clairvoyant, able to see everything that’s going on in Torcia Tower.

 Joshua Haabaato (Joshua Herbert): A member of the lower house of parliament, and a commoner. Was very young when Hank died, so probably in mid-twenties. Used to admire Hank as a hero, and was a big fan of the works based on him (such as the book series featuring Lancelord Hark, and the stage play). Kind of heartless (doesn’t care that Raymond might have died at one point).

Rakku (Rack): Unlike her sisters, she can’t just summon a torture device at will (having to stash them around the third floor to get at physically). Though she’s still fearsome in combat.

Reimondo Atouddo (Raymond Atwood): Is able to use real magic due to being part wraith, himself (it doesn’t say that outright but pretty sure that’s the case). He secretly is a wraith hunter (of a sort). He can use lightning and alchemy magic, the same as Beritoad. He can also run really fast.

Vivian (Vivian): A Crossrosier “sorceress”. Rude, arrogant, and impatient. Think of Elluka, except a complete bitch (to Raymond, mostly), and also not actually a sorceress at all. She looks young and pretty (though wears a lot of makeup), but is actually a considerable age.

Setting Info:

Kurosuroojia (Crossrosier): An organization of sorcerers (really, they’re magicians, and it’s all just sleight of hand). The king and parliament doesn’t think highly of them (hence why they weren’t consulted on resolving the issue with Torcia Tower). According to Raymond, it’s more like a malicious religious group—they insist they’re legit sorcerers, but it’s just parlor tricks. The “wraiths” they’ve fought are really just deformed animals and the like (rumored to have been made by Crossrosier as well). They’re very careful at their charade. Only the upper brass know it’s a sham—lower level members like Vivian have been brainwashed into thinking they have magic.

Plot Summary:

Scene 1

 Gibbet goes to see Beritoad about her dream.

The narration gives some exposition on him. Beritoad is not a god (he knows gods don’t exist), but he knows from experience that divine figures are in a unique position to manipulate people with, and so he pretends to be a god now (and has done so in his past) for better control over his pawns. There were times when his name was known among humankind as the personification of “evil”. Doesn’t care much about that, etc.

 Anyway, he’s not sure how to council Gibbet on her dream. He doesn’t want to lose a pawn. The fact that she’s having these dreams is because she’s not “perfect” (I’m not sure what it means by this). And him being stuck here as a toad in this tower is because the one (male) before her wasn’t “perfect” either (or maybe not that they aren’t perfect, but that something about them isn’t perfect?).

 It’s a little vague—I’m not quite sure I understand exactly what he’s reflecting on but I suspect it’s merely foreshadowing. Point is, he’s absolutely manipulating the girls to his own benefit (especially as he’s kind of powerless right now). He feeds Gibbet some BS about it being a side effect of her powers of induction (like, she’s even captured the consciousness of her victims or whatever, like that dream somehow came from Cynthia’s memories since they started after they first met).

Yeah, the girls are definitely not just implements of torture who spontaneously woke up in the tower one day, Beritoad is definitely lying about that (that’s my own opinion—Gibbet is conflicted but she doesn’t have any grounds to say he’s wrong).

Beritoad gives her some money to go out to town with (the only money they have is what he gives them). Before she leaves though, he realizes there are 3 intruders in the tower. Gibbet doesn’t recall having invited anyone of their description, and he sends her to go catch them (and torture them to ask how they knew about the tower later). As she’s already left he realizes that one of them looks like (someone, it doesn’t say who), and he freaks out, calling for Gibbet to wait, but she’s already left the room.

Scene 2

From the perspective of the intruders—it’s Joshua, Vivian, and Raymond (who is there as their servant, hired three days ago). It’s dark, so Raymond lights up a lamp for them to see by. Vivian consults a crystal ball for the three girls’ location, saying that there’s one on each floor above them (2nd, 3rd, and 4th).

Vivian has Joshua stand behind her (which leads to a funny exchange where Raymond waits for her to go, before she points out he’s the one with the lamp and kicks him in irritation). It’s revealed they’re working secretly, without the king’s or House of Lords’ (the word used is the word for a section of British Parliament) knowledge.

They have a simplistic map of Torcia Tower for navigation. While walking, they discuss what’s happening, talking about how Hank was actually a fiend who sold his soul to a wraith (common knowledge in Crossrosier), torturing people as sacrifices. Apparently if word of what was going on here (with the three girls) got out, the king’s political power would take a hit.

 Joshua is at the tower not for money, but political power. He wants to resolve the issue with the tower in order to leverage more favor with the king. He has to make sure it isn’t known that Crossrosier is involved, though. Vivian agreed to secretly help him in exchange for getting the Pot of Basuzu.

 They talk a little about how they would fair against a wraith (Vivian is confident she’d win but not that the others would come out unscathed), which panics Joshua a little. She gives him a magic square (a piece of cloth with a bunch of strange writing on it) to protect himself with, by spreading it on the floor and standing inside it when the time comes (wraiths can’t cross it). She gives nothing to Raymond, but as he gets distraught eventually she takes pity on him and gives/throws a cross at him to hold on to.

They continue on up the stars.

Scene 3

Gibbet is waiting for them. Joshua gets on his square immediately. Vivian reveals she knows who she is due to the information known to agents of Crossrosier. They exchange very brief banter before light spirals out from Vivian’s crystal ball (and some comic relief with Raymond wondering why a lamp was necessary then). Vivian claims it’s the flames of purgatory that will turn her, a wraith, to ash (the crystal ball is the result of Crossrosier’s alchemical skills), and the light grows stronger.

Joshua, standing on his square, is convinced Vivian will win. She unleashes the flash, and there’s a loud noise. When he looks up, he realizes that the noise was not the flash, but an iron maiden that fell on Vivian and killed her. The last thing he sees is the spikes of the iron maiden.

Scene 4

Gibbet is about to unload on Maiden for killing their targets, but Rack explains they were given special orders to do so by Beritoad, as one of the intruders is dangerous. Gibbet looks back to Vivian and kicks the crystal ball, shattering it.

They discuss amongst themselves how odd it is that Crossrosier is a sham organization, but Vivian believed in her own talents. Raymond chimes in, explaining his knowledge on the subject (this takes up most of the page), as well as the fact that humans can’t use real magic. Anytime someone has, it’s just a trick. The girls stare at him in utter disbelief, not having realized that he was still alive.

They argue over who was supposed to kill him for a moment before Gibbet makes a Gossiper’s Violin float into the air (a violin-shaped device with three holes in a line, two of them for hands and the one at the end for the neck. Also as a note, while it might not need saying—the torture devices the girls use each correspond to their assigned role. Gibbet’s are for capture and imprisonment, Rack’s are for causing suffering, and Maiden’s are for killing).

The girls fail to realize that he is different from the foes they’ve faced thus far (and not just some easily distracted idiot). He dodges and then zaps the violin, where it falls to the ground, charred.

He then discards the cross that Vivian gave him, saying it just gets in the way. Then he pulls out a black silk hat and a knife. He talks like he’s doing a magic show, putting the ordinary knife in the silk hat, flipping it around, and then pulling out an Estoc in its place (so, the irony here being Vivian has magic tricks which look like real magic, and Raymond has real magic that looks like magic tricks). Rack responds like a typical child audience member to his performance.

He introduces himself properly—he is a clown by day, and a wraith hunter by night. They do battle, Raymond targeting Gibbet first as she needs to summon a new torture device and is largely helpless without one (Rack using whips and Maiden using iron maidens). Rack manages to deflect his strike with her whip, though.

They fight some more, Raymond against Rack now (Rack having fun at first), and it becomes clear he knows of them already. He dodges her attacks—she’s frustrated, but has to stick with the whip because she’d need to go back to the third floor to switch for a different device. Raymond starts backing her into the corner, and that’s when Maiden jumps in.

 As Raymond is dodging the iron maidens, Gibbet catches his foot with a bear trap. As they press in on him, he realizes that he can’t beat all three of them at once, and decides that it’s a good time to split (having learned the layout of the tower and confirmed their powers for himself). He flashes lightning at them, and while they’re distracted someone blows a hole in the wall and he jumps out, saying next time he’ll come to kill Beritoad.

After a bit of puzzling on where Raymond got his info and what he is, Gibbet declares that they’ll have to report on what happened to Beritoad.

Scene 5

 Raymond makes a hasty escape, thinking to himself this wouldn’t have gone so well during the day (it’s a full moon out, which I expect has something to do with it). He sees two people as he slows down, thanking one of them (it’s Lloyd in a wooden mask) for blowing the hole in the wall (with the dynamite the miner gave him).

They ask about Vivian and Joshua—Raymond didn’t bother to save them because they were both bad people. Lloyd briefly chides him on this before admitting he’s not really in a position to judge. They ask the third party (I think Benji, because he’s got glasses on) if he has the “item” they needed, and he says he found it, yes.

 The sun is coming up, and they both decide to return again in a week.

Beritoad thinks on what he saw of the fight with Raymond, that he hadn’t expected the child (Raymond) to still be alive (hinting at their connection to each other), and curses Romarius for hiding him from him.

[staticscreenwriting]

Everything there is - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Billy’s mom is not dead in this one. She has a boyfriend though and Billy isn’t sure if he fits into this new family dynamic.

A/N: I like this story it was fun to write. I do hate the header image though, it didn’t work out the way I wanted it but at least I hope the writing is good. Hope you enjoy, feedback is very much appreciated ♥

“ I can't remember what I used to do Who I trusted whom, I listened to before I swear you've taught me everything I know Can't imagine needing someone so But through the years it seems to me I need you more and more “

Iron Maiden’s Wrathchild is blasting from his stereo, as Billy Hargrove lays on the floor of his childhood bedroom. A sweltering, clammy heat has taken over California and the floor seems to be the only place providing some kind of cooling.

The gray muscle shirt is sticking to his skin like a damn glove and he feels disgusting. It’s like all the whining he’d done about it not being warm enough in Indiana, has finally come back to bite him in the ass.

Sure he could go downstairs where there are actual working fans in several rooms that still possess all of their blades, unlike the one in his room. He could go downstairs in favor of a less sticky, less uncomfortable surrounding but really he’ll take sweaty balls over the shit downstairs any day.

Going downstairs means dealing with Craig. Dealing with his mom. Dealing with his mom and Craig. As a couple. As a family. As two people who don’t seem to be able to stop kissing and hugging and touching like a bunch of teenagers who have just discovered french kissing for the first time in their goddamn lives. A couple who bought a cat together, a fat ginger one, and called it Cat Benatar. Who do crossword puzzles together over the breakfast table and watch game shows cuddled up on the sofa every saturday evening and who go to concerts together and road trips and dates to the bowling alley. A couple who’s happy. A family that’s complete.

Going downstairs means seeing all of this and realizing once again how out of place he is here. How much he doesn’t fit into this life, this family. How happy his mom is. Without him.

It’s half an hour later and an entire run through the Killers album again, that a knock sounds at Billy’s door.

He grumbles a “come in” and hopes the person doesn’t hear it and just assumes he’s asleep or busy — or dead, and leaves him alone.

They don’t.

Craig, all blue eyes and over the top toothpaste commercial smile, sticks his head through the slightly opened door and looks at Billy as if he’s about to drop some life changing news, like a lottery win or something.

He doesn’t.

Instead he approaches Bill with a “Hey Bud” effectively wanting Billy to punch himself unconscious so he never has to hear anyone, let alone this complete stranger, call him Bud. Or champ. Or any of those weird ass nicknames Craig has been hurling at him since him and mom had picked him up from the airport.

Billy is 18, not 8. Those nicknames stopped being funny or endearing a while ago and at 18 they’re pretty much just creepy.

Also he’s not Craig’s Buddy in the first place so he doesn’t know where he got that idea from.

“ You wanna come downstairs for lunch ? Your mom made some sandwiches. Asked her to add some extra bacon. I heard you like that. I can remember when I was your age I would put bacon on literally everything”.

Billy finds it hard to even imagine this slightly balding, stach wearing man with the paint splattered jeans and the ridiculous CCR shirt, as an actual living teenager. It feels like Craig just came out of the womb all boring and bad jokes and all.

“ ‘m not really hungry, thanks though “:

He doesn’t want to be rude or ungrateful, he really doesn’t. It’s just that sitting down at the kitchen table with his mom and Craig is just gonna end up being a torture for him and he doesn’t want to end up saying something that would hurt his mom. They’re gonna ask about College and School and Friends and, god forbid, his love life. He really doesn’t fancy any of those talks. Especially not with Craig.

“ I know man, but your mom really wants to spend some time with you. Come on, give her that. She missed you “.

Billy thinks that’s the biggest bullshit of the century. Clearly his mom hasn’t missed him all that much. She went and got a whole nother life. A better one. A happy one. While she sent him to live with his dad who they both know doesn’t give two shits about Billy. Clearly she hasn’t missed him enough to have him over for Christmas instead of going on a trip to Montana with her new boyfriend.

She hasn’t missed him at all he feels like.

But she’s still his mom and even if she breaks his heart he will never be able to break hers. Because despite it all she’s still one of the few people he has ever truly loved.

“ Alright “ He murmurs and gets off the floor, shirt sticking to his back. In that moment he kinda misses his dad’s old home in California, it might’ve been a shitty run down place but it had a little pool in the back and that was basically heaven to Billy.

As he follows Craig downstairs, he can hear his mom hum along to Hall and Oates. She’s in a summer dress and her hair is up in some intricate braids and Billy almost doesn’t recognize her. This isn’t the woman that stayed behind while he was sent away. Back then she was all tired eyes and messy hair and sweater sleaves pulled over her hands. This woman had her shit together in the best way possible. Billy isn’t sure he’ll ever fit into this equation.

“ There’s my boy. Come sit “ she exclaims as she spots Billy waking into the kitchen and pats the barstool by the kitchen isle where a plate is already waiting for him.

Billy can’t remember the last time his mom made a home cooked meal for him. Back when he was a little boy she had a habit of trying out the most ridiculous dishes from her own mother’s cookbook, which usually resulted in the entire family feasting on a big cheesy pizza because she burned the dish. When things got bad between her and his dad, she stopped trying all together.

Sitting down at the kitchen isle, Billy starts chomping down on the sandwich. It’s not the most outrageous and delicious 4 course meal but there’s bacon and cheese and that’s basically all he needs.

For a moment he feels like a kid again, who’s mom greets him after school with sandwiches and juice boxes and hugs and love.

Then he notices that neither his mom nor Craig seem to be eating anything. In fact, they’re not even sitting down. They’re cooped together, Craigs arm around his mother’s waist as they both intensely focus on Billy himself.

“ You guys alright ? “

“ Yes, yes. Of course “ his mom exclaims, her words coming out jumbled and too quick for Billy’s liking. There’s something she isn’t telling him and it’s both annoying and hurtful.

“ Actually we are more than alright “ Craig speaks up from beside her.

There’s this look in both their eyes of excitement and joy but also fear of judgement and anxiety. Whatever it is they’re trying to tell him, Billy isn’t sure he’s going to like it very much.

His half eaten sandwich now completely abandoned, Billy raises his eyebrows in question.

“ What’s that supposed to mean then ? “

“ I — “ his mom starts and takes a deep breath before continuing “ we. We have something to tell you. There’s a reason I asked you to come visit me this summer. Not only because I missed you but also because there’s something really big you need to know “.

She pauses again and Billy feels like every second that goes by he gets a little more sick to his stomache.

“ What is it, mom ? “

“ Craig asked me to marry him and I said yes. The wedding is next saturday and I — Billy I just really wanted you there for it. We’re just gonna keep it real small. Get married at the courthouse and then have a tiny celebration at the Comet View. There’ll be dancing and drinks and good food. You know, just a fun night “.

Billy feels like he just drank and entire bottle of ice cold water in one go. His insides are frozen, his mind is frozen. There’s something about these news that make it impossible for him to process them. It’s like a thunderstorm crashing down on him in the middle of an Indiana winter.

A relationship was one thing but marriage ? Marriage is big and it means a lot and it’s — forever. And it feels like that might just completely close the door on Billy ever being a part of his mother’s life that isn’t just a visit every few months if at all.

“ Billy ? “

He realises that they expect and answer. A congratulation. Something. But can he really pretend to be happy about something that might just break his heart entirely ?

Yes he can.

Pretending is all he ever does.

“ Mom that’s — good. Congrats. Really, that’s great “.

He hugs his mom and shakes Craig’s hand and he needs to get out. The nerves in his fingers and and his toes are tingling and his heart is beating at a speed he’s sure it shouldn’t be. He’s hot and cold and everything in between and he needs to be somewhere else.

Somewhere he feels happy and safe and calm and comfortable and — like home.

Somewhere with his girl.

He knew he’d find her here. It’s her place, their place.

While the tourists and the loved up couples and the families mostly flocked to the pier, (Y/N) and Billy had found their own little spot of heaven and calm in the form of an abandoned beach watch tower further down the shore where the driftwood accumulated and the white sand wasn’t as picture perfect.

But it was theirs. Unofficially sure but it was. He hopes it still is.

“ Hey Chewie, didn’t expect to see you here “.

It’s like no time has passed and yet it feels like another life completely. She’s there in her shorts that are way too tiny to even be called that and shades on her face shaped like stars. There’s a sunhat on her head and a book in her hand and he’s sure he’s never seen anyone more perfect.

She is his poison and his cure all wrapped in one big mess of a girl. She is perfect and flawed, complicated and so well put together. She is everything and all.

He wishes he could’ve stayed. Wishes that the future he had so desperately wanted to have with her wasn’t but a mere dream to wander off to at nights he couldn’t seem to fall asleep.

He wishes she would still love him. And that the universe would work out for him for once, so he could allow himself to love her more.

“ Why am I Chewbacca ? “

“ The hair ?! “ she says and motions to his curly mullet. There’s a laugh hidden in her words and it makes the anxious tingles in his fingers disappear for a moment.

“ Fair enough. What makes you Han then ? “

“ Well, you always made sure I shot first “.

Billy almost chokes on his own spit right then. This beautiful girl with a smile that can compete with the sun, spouts dirty jokes so casually like there’s nothing about it. But that’s who she is, who she’s always been. And Billy’s heart aches so much when he realises just how much he missed her.

“ Come here you big Wookie ! “ she exclaims, takes off her shades, and pulls Billy into a hug. She’s all warm and familiar and she smells like the ocean and her signature Opium perfume that Billy knows so well because he used to buy her a new one every Christmas.

He kisses her head softly like old times. Like when things were good and they were happy and they didn’t have a lot but they had each other and that was really all the needed. Now he has a shitty room in a shitty house in a shitty town. With people he can’t stand and a family that shouldn’t even be allowed to be called a family.

And she has —

He honestly doesn’t know because he never bothered to call. Not only did he want a clean cut to make it possible for her to move on eventually, but he was also a fucking coward and calling her, hearing her voice, hearing she was happy without him would’ve killed him.

“ You doing good ? “ he asks and almost has a heart attack as she looks up at him with her big beautiful eyes that hold so much love he can’t even fathom it properly.

“ I’m okay. What about you ? “

He could lie. Tell her how amazing his life is and how happy he is. How it doesn’t break his heart to see his mother move on to a life that he has no place it. How Hawkins is all he ever dreamed of and how he doesn’t miss her like crazy.

He could, but he doesn’t.

He’s done a lot of shit in his part, still does a lot of shit, but one thing he’s never done, is lie to (Y/N).

She’s always been his person. The one that you can’t and don’t ever lie to. She knows him inside out and accepts him still. All faults and issues and baggage.

You don’t lie to people like that.

“ Mom’s getting married “.

He wants to say so much more because there’s so much more bubbling inside of him but he has absolutely no idea how to put them into words. It’s too much, too fast. So he leaves it at that.

“ I know “

“ You do ? “

“ Yeah. Just because you left doesn’t mean I stopped all contact with your family “

That makes him feel a little better although he doesn’t really know why. Maybe it’s because it reminds him that she was so much more than just some highschool girlfriend. She was his girl. Part of his family. And knowing that some part of that stayed, some part of that is still there, makes him happy.

“ Also, I don’t know if you recall but my dad owns the place where the reception is held so even if she didn’t ask me to be her maid of honor I still would’ve found out about it “.

“ She asked you to be what now ?!”

“ The maid of honor. Look Billy, when you left it was hard on both of us and we kind of bonded over that. “

That was ridiculous, his mom sent him away it’s not like he had left on his own accord. He didn’t want to leave, he would’ve given everything and more to be able to stay. But he was a minor and both his parents had decided leaving for Indiana was the better choice. That was a fucking bullshit decision.

“ I don’t think I can do this  “

“ Do what ? “

“ Watch her getting married. It’s like she’s starting this completely different life that makes her so happy. And don’t get me wrong I want her to be happy. But that life began without me and it’s gonna end without me. There’s no place for me. I don’t fit in there, (Y/N). I’m not part of this future. I’m not part of this family. “

(Y/N) untangles her arms from around his waist and takes a step back.

“ Billy, what do you think your mom did when you left ? “

“ I don’t know “ he says and shrugs his shoulders. He hasn’t really spent any thoughts on that. In his mind his mom was doing what she always did, only without him. “ Meeting men apparently. Falling in love. Being happy “.

“ You are delusional “

“ I’m sorry ? “

“ Billy I know this is not something you wanna hear but your mom wasn’t a saint before you left. She wasn’t happy but that wasn't your fault. You were her happiness, everything else was what made her unhappy. I know you see her as this superwoman who always did everything perfectly and who could do no wrong. But that’s not the person she was. You know what she did when you left ? She got help. Went to therapy, tried to fix her life so by the time you were done with highschool and maybe decided to return, she would be better. So she could be the woman you always thought she was. Everything she does, everything she did, was for you. She didn’t send you away because she didn’t want you here. It broke her heart to see you leave. She sent you away so she could fix herself without relying on you to pick up the pieces if things didn’t work out “.

Billy swallows the huge metaphorical lump that’s built in his throat while he listened to (Y/N)’s words. He had always known that his mother wasn’t happy and that she didn’t really have her shit together the way other mothers did. But he never thought it was this bad.

And maybe being angry at her was easier than admitting that she wasn’t this fearless, invincible saint he had always pictured her as.

“ She didn’t get better because you weren’t there, Billy. She went out and did something to change her life so she would be better once you came back. “

He wants to cry. He wants to scream and yell and punch something. Because life is terribly unfair and his mother of all people doesn’t deserve to ever feel unhappy. He wants to cry, but he doesn’t. Because it’s not what he does.

Instead he pulls (Y/N) back into an embrace. It’s sticky and gross but it’s what he needs. Because she’s his sun and his stars and his home and the one person to always align his planets and put things into perspective when he’s losing his head.

“ I don’t want to leave again “

He hasn’t said it out loud before but he’s been thinking about it for a while. Ever since he stepped a foot back into his childhood home. This is the place he wanted to be and even though with Craig around it all felt like things had shifted slightly, it was still better than Hawkins.

This was his home. His heart.

This was where his mom was and this weird new family she was creating with Craig and Cat Benatar. But maybe they could make some room for him in that constellation. He really didn’t need much space. Really.

“ Then don’t. “

“ You think they’d let me stay ? “

“ Billy, your mom is missing a piece of her heart whenever you’re not here. She’s got a proper job now and a wonderful man in her life that you should really give a chance. “

“ And a fat ginger cat. “

“ And a fat ginger cat ! She’s got her life figured out pretty well, you’re the only thing that’s missing. It’s ridiculous that you even consider the possibility of her not letting you stay “.

She softly combs her fingers through his hair like she always did when they were cuddled up on her couch or in the back of his car. He had missed this girl so much.

“ I’m missing a part of my heart to, you know ? “ he says and takes her face between hands.

“ You are ? “

“ Mmmmh … I got not one to watch shitty horror movies with. Got no one to steal my fries and eat the pickles off my burgers. “

“ What else ? “ she ask and rubs her nose against his.

“ There’s no one there to make fun of my mullet and then later hold onto it when I make them see stars. There’s no one to make me shitty apple pancakes. No one to sing along to Whitesnake with and no one to call me out on my shit. No one to keep me from falling apart. No one to love me. Not the way you do. Not even close. “

“ I love you Billy Hargrove and I miss eating your fries and all the burger pickles. “

When she kisses him, she tastes like the ocean and the sun and pink lemonade and home.

Billy Hargrove’s heart beats at an alarming speed as he walks his mom down the little courthouse corridor. It’s a good feeling though. It’s excitement rather than anxiety. It’s a feeling that something is changing, for her and for him. Maybe this can be a step into a new life, one that he can be a part of if he makes an effort. One that he is no doubt accepted into.

His mom cried when he had told her he wanted to stay. Good tears. Happy tears.

He kisses her cheek as he puts her hand into Craigs. Craig who turns out to be a huge Metalhead. Craig who’s quoting shitty B-Movie Horror flicks. Craig who saw something in Billy he didn’t know was there and helped him get a part time job at a garage specialized on muscle cars and vintage vehicles with a good change of full employment after high school.

Craig who’s actually a pretty cool guy.

When he sits down, in the front row, (Y/N)’s hand slips into his and for that moment he’s sure his world, his universe, is as good as can be.

It’s later at the reception when he’s dancing with his mom. Yes, Billy is dancing. He’s a good dancer, okay ?! No shame !

His mom looks at him with that typical motherly stare of pride and unfiltered maternal love. He hasn’t seen that looks in so long he’s really missed it.

“ I’m so happy to have you back. Things are gonna be good from here on out. I know it. “

Billy’s eyes wander over to the girl in the bright purple dress that he thinks is terribly ugly but she makes it work anyway.

His mom’s eyes follow his and a smile appears on her lips “ You know, you guys could be next. To get married I mean “.

“ Mom, come on “ he complains but secretly, it’s all he’s been thinking about.

“ I know, I know. Go dance with her at least “ she says and places a kiss on his cheek.

“ I’m proud of you, Billy. “

Before she can walk away he calls out to her. “ Hey mom ? “

“ Yeah ? “

“ Thank you, for everything. I’m proud of you too “

She smiles but he can see the tears in her eyes. He hopes they’re happy ones.

“ Hey pretty boy “ a voice speaks up from beside him. (Y/N) looks all crazy and bright and out of place with all the elegantly dressed middle aged friends of his mother and Craig but damn if she isn’t the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“ Hey pretty girl. “

His hands grab her softly by the hips as her arms fall around his neck and they start swaying to the music softly playing in the background. If this is what his life is from now on, he’s happy. 

This new little family is broken and weird and unconventional but It could be good, real good.

He looks into (Y/N)’s eyes and sees their entire future right there in front of him. 

“ I’m glad you’re back. “ 

“ Of course I am. Can’t live with half a heart now can you ? “ 

[echelonlab-blog]

Author Interview -- fyeahproudglambert

Your URL: fyeahproudglambert.tumblr.com Your name: Catarina, but everyone calls me Kate Link to your Masterlist: fyeahproudglambert.tumblr.com/fanfiction

What was your first experience with 30 Seconds to Mars? Oh wow, that was so long ago that I can’t really remember. I was always on the music channels so that’s probably how I first listened to them. I do remember my first concert like it was yesterday. I met a very special person at that show.

Your Favorite Mars song? I can’t just pick one. xD Night of The Hunter, Remedy, Stranger In a Strange Land, Budha for Mary.

Has anything ever happened to you solely because of being a 30STM fan? Yes. I’ve met the most wonderful people because of that and I’m so so grateful for that.

What is your favorite thing about the fandom? Your least favorite? I love how supportive everyone is. Least favorite would have to be trolls...

Is there any advice you would give to someone who is new to the fandom? Welcome, sugar! Buckle up, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. <3

How long have you been writing? Ever since I can remember. I’ve always loved getting my thoughts down.

Why did you start writing? (Either in general or for Mars specifically) To me, writing is therapy and an escape from well, I guess you could say, life. I put a lot of life experience into my stories.

Do you write for other fandoms? If so, which ones? Yes. Andy Black, Ronnie Radke. Used to write for MCR, Cradle of Filth and Adam Lambert way back.

Do you share everything you write? If not, is there a reason why? I share most of it. I do have an original book written but needs improvement before I can share.

Have you written things that aren't fanfic? If so, could you tell us about those works? Yes. Basically weird vampire archangel stuff. xD

Of all your works, which is your favorite and why? Hmm, I don’t think I can pick. I love writing so much.

Is there one that was particularly difficult to write? Why? Yes. Budha for Mary because of well, its theme.

What is the ideal writing environment for you? At your desk? Quiet? Music? Ideally, all I have to have is a computer. I prefer quiet or background noise (thanks to @lolainblue for passing the link rainycafe.com). ;)

What type of fanfic are you most comfortable writing (drama, fluff, angst, drabbles, series, etc.) Fluff, angst and drabbles.

What is your favorite fanfic trope? Either friends turning to lovers or angry friends turning to lovers. xD

Is there any trope or subject that you won't write? I can’t really think of one. Never say never.

Are there any special tools that you use when creating or writing your story? I google a lot of words. English isn’t my native language so most of the time I wonder if the word really exists or if I made it up. xD

Do you write your story in order or do you jump around and then string it together at the end? Depends. I mostly write my stories in order unless I have a very clear picture of the future in my head.

Do you outline, or do a great deal of prep work or do you 'fly by the seat of your pants'? Definitely “fly by the seat of my pants”. WING IT! xD

How do you usually get your inspiration? Could be anything. A sentence, a picture. Right now, I’ve been doing morning walks with music blasting and I’ve been getting lots of ideas like that.

Do you have ideas on the drawing board or in progress currently that you haven't shared yet? Oh yes, but they’re a secret. You’ll find out soon enough. Not Jared’s #soon. xD

If you have an unpublished work in progress, please pick two to three sentences and share them without context.

“I know. I feel it too.”

I couldn’t look away from her eyes, something clicking into place.

I didn’t want to leave yet, I wasn’t ready to.

Do you like requests? Would you like more or less of them? I don’t really get them much often and I’m terrified I won’t be able to write them.

Is there an upcoming project from you that you are excited about? Why, and what can you share about it? #secrets

The best piece of writing advice you've ever received? Just write.

The worst piece of writing advice you've ever received? Writing is easy. HAH!

What piece of advice would you give to someone just starting to write fanfic? Write what you know and write what you want. It’s your reality, your rules.

Three (stories, series, scenes, etc) written by others that you really like or that inspire you? Oh gosh, I have several. @lolainblue Fangs and Fairytales and also ROGER is the best character ever. The latest chapter of @thepromiseofanend Closer to the Edge brought tears to my eyes. So freaking amazing. My boo, @hazeleyedleto with her perfect Bright Lights. And everything @darklydeliciousdesires writes. <3

Are any of your characters closer to being “you” than others? Any reason in particular? All my characters have a little bit of me in them.

Are any of your characters based on someone you know? Yep.

Are any of your plots based on something that happened to you? Yes.

Favorite font for writing? Eh, as long as it’s not comic sans. xD

Do you have a 'day job'? If so, what? Yes, Web Designer.

Do you consider yourself a reader outside of fanfic? Yep. I love reading.

Your favorite book? The Perfume by Patrick Süskind.

Your favorite things to do when you're not writing? Watching TV Shows or Movies.

The strangest thing you've ever eaten? Does sushi count?

Two truths and a lie? I love sushi. I hate when people I don’t know stand too close to me. I hate cheesecake.

Five albums you'd want if stranded on a desert island? American Satan Soundtrack, My Chemical Romance – Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, Panic at the Disco – Death of a Bachelor, Thirty Seconds to Mars – This is War and Iron Maiden – Piece of Mind.

Something surprising about you? I love horror games and League of Legends. I actively watch Esports, mostly LCS.

Favorite food to enjoy while watching Netflix? Air popped popcorn.

Favorite way to spend a Saturday night? Watching a movie with my girl.

Blankets Tucked or Untucked? Tucked, can’t let those monsters get my feetsies.

Do you have any pets? Would you like to tell us about them? Yes, I have a kitty. His name is Bart and he’s a hellraiser.

Musicals, yes or no? If yes, what movie/show would you like to see made into a musical? Yes. Harry Potter?! xD

Tell us a joke. Me! That’s it. xD

Are there any particular battles or struggles in your life you'd like to tell us about? Hmm, well, not really.

Anything you'd like to add? Love you guys. ❤

[radiojamming]

HISTORY WITH DJ: Franklin Expedition Mummies

So you’re on a jolly good vacation up in the Arctic, right? Because that’s your ideal vacation and nothing makes you happier than miles and miles of ice, loose gravel, ice, snow, polar bears, more ice, and the occasional seal carcass. You’re in your fun vacation boat, happily bobbing your way over by Cape Riley in Nunavut. “Beechey Island!” says your handy-dandy map, and that sounds oh-so fun because it must have a nice beach! A misspelled but otherwise fun beach! Turns out, you’re late to the party and a couple guys have been chilling there for awhile.

“GET YOUR OWN GRAVEL PATCH, SHITLORD!” they call from beyond the grave.

The thing is, not only would 2/4 of these guys probably not hesitate to call you a shitlord because they were a couple youngin’s and memes would probably be hilarious to them but, uh

they’re still

kinda fresh.

By that, I mean 3/4 guys were buried in 1846, and as far as we know, since 1986, they still look pretty good! Or, in the phrasing of one memorable article, one in particular looked “more cold and sleepy than dead”. 

And these three-outta-four are the famous Franklin Expedition mummies. (We won’t be talking about number four. He hopped in later and intruded on their cool permafrost party.)

Now, I won’t be posting any pictures of the mummies specifically, because they can be very disturbing and I remember the first time I saw them, I about hit the ceiling because I didn’t expect it. However, I’ll be describing them in detail and putting some other pictures in. You’re free to look them up at your own discretion, though. But again, fair warning, THEY ARE DEAD AND A FEW OF THEM LOOK THE PART. They were thawed out of the ice and they certainly look like it.

So let me introduce you to the three fabulous young men hanging out underground at the moment, and some background on them.

Much credit first to Kristina Gehrmann for making these gents look so darn lively! Her art’s awesome! (Also woof, Mister Hartnellllll~)

The Beechey Island trio were all part of the infamous lost Franklin expedition launched in May of 1845. Britain sent out two now-famous ships, the HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, to ply northern Canada for the Northwest Passage. Shit hit the fan awful fast, though, and there’s a reason it’s called a lost expedition. Like, uh, no one came back. People probably ate people. It was a bad time. And the three guys up there were the lucky ones.

Introducing:

JOHN SHAW TORRINGTON - AGE 20; OCCUPATION: PETTY OFFICER, LEAD STOKER (HMS TERROR)

Torrington, the younger half of the Johns, is kind of the face of the expedition, mostly because he was the first person who was exhumed. Dr. Owen Beattie, a forensic anthropologist from the University of Alberta, decided to exhume him in 1984 in an attempt to figure out what the heck went way wrong in the expedition. Now, his team knew they were probably going to find something interesting, considering the gents had been refrigerated in permafrost for a century and some change. They just didn’t know that all the guys would look as fresh as daisies in forensic-land when they pried the lids open. And Torrington was the supreme surprise.

With an expression kind of like :O, he had both eyes open (and he looked kind of ticked, like someone woke him up from a nap), blue patches on his face from the blanket that had been placed over his head (not frostbite), all of his clothes on, and a fun little piece of fabric tied around his head so he wouldn’t get the ol’ skeleton-scream face going. Aside from being tied up like a Christmas present, Torrington just looked exhausted, and more like the guys on the HMS Terror had pranked him than dying of horrible causes.

We don’t actually know much about his life, but we do know he was the lead stoker (fireman) on the HMS Terror, servicing its repurposed locomotive engine. Like the other two, he certainly had tuberculosis and pneumonia. The troubling part was, his hands weren’t very calloused, suggesting he had only worked for a short time and had been down for the count longer than he’d been on for it. Even though it had only been about seven months since they had left England, it was pretty clear Torrington had been sick for awhile already. He died on New Years’ Day at the age of 20.

Some interesting things about him:

-He was a petty officer at age 20! Go Torrington, go! -The gold-looking things around his head are wood shavings, but have often been confused for his hair. There is some light brown/blond hairs sticking out from under the fabric tying his jaw shut, but it was probably short. -He, unlike John #2 and William, had his pants on. No word back yet on why that is. -He’s the only body to not have a Bible verse on his headstone. No word back yet on that either. -We do know he was from Manchester, and had enough family to have living relatives now. (The anthropology team asked them for permission to exhume him.) -He probably smoked, judging by the state of his already whacked-out lungs. -People around the world were so fascinated by him that Iron Maiden, Margaret Atwood, Sheenagh Pugh, and a ton of others have written songs, poems, and stories about him. Most of it was owed to the fact that of the three mummies, he was the most intact and lively-looking. Some people seem to have crushes on him, too. I don’t blame them. -Torrington’s eyes were most likely light blue! They were hardly discolored and were probably very accurate to when he was alive.

WILLIAM BRAINE - AGE 32; OCCUPATION: PRIVATE, ROYAL MARINE (HMS EREBUS)

Out of all the guys in the permafrost, we probably know the least about William Braine, and he seems to have drawn the crap lot as far as health and state of his body. He was the last to be exhumed in the following 1986 expedition, after Hartnell was exhumed. But, for sake of following the picture up top, we’ll talk about him before Hartnell. 

William died, as the others did, of tuberculosis and pneumonia. Unfortunately for him, he seemed to have had to deal with it far longer than the other two. By the time he died in April of 1846, his TB had advanced enough to contort his spine, which would have been hella painful. He was extremely sick at the end, and chances are, he had been sick for most of the trip into Nunavut. The other sucky part was that his body had clearly been laid out for awhile before he was buried, and the crew seemed less prepared for him than they had been for the first two. He was kind of haphazardly shoved into his coffin, with one arm having to be tucked under his body because he was a big guy. He also, like Hartnell, had no pants on. Huh.

Some signs of him waiting on ice (pff) before being buried were that he showed more signs of decomposition than the other two. His lips had already receded (Torrington and Hartnell had dehydrated lips like most mummies), he showed discoloration, and there are signs that something had been, um, gnawing on him before he was buried. Ew. Again, there’s very few details about his life, which is kind of sad considering he was the oldest of the three. But here’s a few interesting tidbits! -He was buried with a red handkerchief over his face, and there’s been some suggestion that the handkerchief was a possession of his that he may have prized. -He had some rocking facial hair when they found him. Sweet muttonchops, Will. -Like I said, he was a big guy. There’s plenty of signs that they had some difficulty getting him into his coffin successfully. He even had a squashed nose because the lid of the coffin pressed against it all that time.  -He was buried deeper in the permafrost than John #1 and John #2, and no one knows why. He was also buried at an angle. This is strange because getting through permafrost is extremely difficult with shovels and pickaxes. Some have suggested that the crew knew someone else was going to die while they were on Beechey Island and had more time to make the last grave. -He has no descendants or relatives that we know of, and never married or had children of his own.  -Braine was right around 88 lbs. at death and was severely emaciated. Yikes. D:

And now, for the one I know the most about!

JOHN HARTNELL - AGE 25; OCCUPATION: ABLE-BODIED SEAMAN (HMS EREBUS)

Now of all the mummies buried on Beechey Island, I find John Hartnell the most interesting, and probably the most tragic. (I’m actually writing a book on him, so there’s that.)

Poor John Hartnell had it rough from childhood. His dad was a shipwright in Gillingham, Kent, and when he died, it seemed that John was the one to look after his mother and four younger siblings. Records show that at one point, he was a shoemaker before he was a sailor, and he had a Crown debt to pay off that today would be worth $13,000. It may have been back taxes or a loan, and it may have been inherited from his dead father. Either way, John eventually got coaxed to joining the Navy by his younger brother, Thomas, who had been in for awhile. The Hartnell brothers were apparently close anyway, as they were written on the 1841 census as being the same age despite being two years apart. Mathematically, on an able-bodied seaman’s pay, if the two of them served three years apiece on the Erebus, they’d be able to pay off $12,000 of the debt. So off John went, first on the HMS Volage, then on the Erebus with his younger brother in tow.

Based on the state of his grave, John Hartnell was a well-liked kind of guy. First, he was outstandingly tall for 1846, clocking in at a whopping 5′11″ 1/2 based on the admiralty records of the Volage. He had striking black hair (Thomas was a redhead) and hazel eyes, and judging by the face in the grave, he was pretty handsome to boot. He advanced quickly to becoming an able seaman, and based on the state of his shoulder bones in an x-ray, seemed to have taken to it enough to get whacked around a few times. When he died, his shipmates took extreme care with him. A pillow was sewn and stuffed with woodchips to cushion his head, a blanket was placed under his body and another was wrapped around him as a shroud, he was buried in three different shirts, and a wool watchcap was put on his head. All in all, he was very snug when they found him. Unlike William Braine, his casket was fitted to his body, so no stuffing him in was required despite how tall he was. Tape and paint made fake handles on the casket to give it a more refined appearance.

We know his little brother was with him when he died, as John’s body was clad in a shirt with ‘T.H. 1844′ sewn onto the shirttail, suggesting Thomas gave him his shirt. This may have been part of the reason why he was so cared for, but it’s also clear the crew cared about him quite a bit.

Poor John didn’t stand a chance, really. Samples taken have shown that not only did he die of tuberculosis and pneumonia like Torrington and Braine, but he also had a severe zinc deficiency. His stomach and intestinal contents were empty and he weighed under 100 lbs. at death, suggesting he was refusing to eat at the end and had severe muscle wasting. He was probably hallucinating and utterly feverish as well, and a theory poses that he, as well as the other crewmembers, may have also had lead poisoning. All of this points to a pretty gnarly end.

His body ended up being like the Christmas present of the entire exhumation project. First, when they took his hat off (to which I’d be pissed because he looked comfy as hell in there anyway), he still had all of his hair. It was pitch black and still styled and combed under his hat. He was also missing an eye and had a gouge in his right arm from an exhumation attempt in the 1850s. By the time they dug up Hartnell in 1986, his expression kind of looked like, “YEAH HI, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE I AM EXHAUSTED.”

Second surprise was that, after disrobing him (poor guy), he had already been autopsied before. Not only that, but the Y incision was reversed, all his organs were upside-down, and his ribs and sternum were flip-flopped too. This made the radiographers hella confused, and at first they thought it may have been the doing of the surgeon on board the Erebus. Turns out, it was probably the wonky exhumation attempt that stole his eye. In short, they hecked up Hartnell bad, and he deserved better. But his body told Dr. Beattie and his team plenty, and they snugged him right back up and reburied him on June 21st, 1986.

Fun facts, because I know way too much about this guy:

-His eyes were hazel, according to his records on the Volage. However, on his body, Dr. Beattie thought they looked more green. -He had impacted first molars in his jaw, but otherwise, had all of his teeth. Weird, considering able-bodied seaman got whacked in the face/head more than anyone else. -The 1850s exhumation also stole the nameplate off his casket as a souvenir. Like they didn’t do enough to him. -Because of his Crown debt, the Hartnells back in England weren’t given his Arctic service medal after his death. It wasn’t given to anyone until 1986. -There’s signs that not only did the crew dress him up nicely (still no pants, tho), but his hair had been combed and someone had cleaned his nails. His hands were also put in a funerary position, unlike Torrington and Braine.  -Brian Spenceley, a physics professor from Lakehead, went with Dr. Beattie on the expedition, as Brian was a living relative of Hartnell and a descendant of his younger brother, Charles. One thing he immediately recognized was the ‘Hartnell nose’. If you do look up pictures of him, you’ll know it immediately. -Hartnell also had some facial hair along his jaw, but was otherwise pretty clean-shaven. -He was so well-preserved otherwise (even though there’s evidence that there was a little bit of delay burying him) that he had full flexion in his joints and tendons like an unconscious living person. Doctors and scientists had no trouble undressing him or turning his head and moving his arms for scans and examination. -He seems to be more of the face of the expedition than Torrington. If you look up the mummies, chances are that Hartnell is the first person you see. He’s recognizable for his nose, his black hair, and his extremely ‘I’m so done’ expression. -No kids, no marriages. His brother was the same. :( (I woulda married him in a heartbeat.)

Now there’s about a million theories as to what happened to all of them. Lead-poisoning is a chief one of Beattie’s due to the canned food onboard being soldered with lead. Really, it just seems like the Franklin expedition was a Murphy’s Law situation.

[thanatophania]

Sera, Cass, Lottie? :3c

WOW this got very long.

Full name: Seraphina Lucia Rosenvinge

Gender/orientation: Female, bi. All hail the heartbreaker, she’s been through her share of beaus and likes to change things up.

Pronouns:She/herEthnicity/species: Lalaland European; her family background is primarily Norwegian and they’re a small, pureblooded family of swan witches.Birthplace/birthdate: January 21, somewhere in Svalbard.Guilty pleasures: Going on extravagant shopping sprees. Back when she used to flirt a lot more and be a lot more casual with her affections, it was nice to have people buy gifts for her. She certainly knew how to get things she wanted, one way or the other. Sometimes she gets guilty enough to return the stuff she buys, but most of the time she doesn’t. Hey, it’s not like she just leaves them to gather dust; unlike some people, she actually uses them! It’s not a hoarding problem, what are you talking about.Phobias: A bit of a Rich Person First World Problem in some aspects, but she’s afraid of having … nothing. No assets, no ties/bonds to people, being completely cut off and isolated. That’s kinda why she did that to other people before they could do it to her. :’)What they would be famous for: If she had her way and wasn’t stopped by the likes of Ali or Cass, she might’ve gotten famous for having a lot of spouses that died mysteriously. :| Maybe gained a reputation as a black widow or some shit. Not very flattering …What they would get arrested for: Casual property destruction. Assault and battery. She’s got a rather short fuse and some pretty bloodthirsty tendencies if provoked. She tends to get pretty angry on behalf of other people, and her first solution to their problems is usually to beat the problem until it repents.Ship them with: Sho. It’s somewhat complicated, because it seems she might have to gear up to fight Cass for the rights to Sho’s hand in … er, not marriage, but. Certainly something. Neither of them are particularly pleased about sharing. She saw him first, damn it! That said, she still likes to flirt, and totally used to flirt with Alistair’s illegitimate half-sister. Mostly to piss him off. Which is succeeding, to absolutely nobody’s surprise.Most likely to murder them: The Bureau, anyone who hates Alistair enough to want to kill him – and it’s her job to get in their way, alas. Closer to home, Mei has threatened to kill her if she breaks Sho’s heart. Sera thinks it’s kinda cute, that her boyfriend’s old childhood girl/friend is protective enough over him to threaten grievous bodily harm to whoever messes with his feelings, even if she was the one that broke things off first. It’s cute. Mei’s also cute.Favourite movie/book genre: Romances and chick lit/flicks. Whether it’s ironic or not, nobody knows. She seems especially fond of trashy romance paperbacks, a la Chuck Tingle or Danielle Steel. And hey, Bridget Jones’ Diary and The Notebook are all hilarious, don’t judge.Least favourite movie/book genre: Action. She can get pretty critical about things like historical and biological accuracy, and commentates all through it. Do not bring her for action movies or superhero flicks. Just don’t.Talents/powers: Ruthless Monopoly king. She’s not here to make friends, she’s here to win. She’s also got a pretty good singing voice, and gets pretty competitive during karaoke nights, sometimes breaking out the operatic contralto if she’s had enough to drink. That aside, Sera’s also pretty handy with polearms and thunder magic, and has a better handle on casting offensively than her brother.Why someone might love them: Protective as all hell to whoever she likes enough. Never mind the fact that they might be able to do it themselves. Even if she gives Ali a lot of shit and doesn’t seem to respect him, she can and will kill for him. It goes without question she’ll do the same for Sho. Ride or die, my man. She’s all about that life.How they change: Uh, well, she genuinely cares for Sho and he’s the biggest catalyst to her settling down and being? A better person? Maybe? She also eventually becomes more honest with herself and with other people.Why you love them: She’s a vicious blood knight (and sometimes gold digger) dressed up as a fragile blushing rose maiden. What’s not to love. She’s awful and I love her.

Full name: Cassius Isak RosenvingeGender/orientation: Male, bi. If his previous interests are any indication, his preferences lean towards men.Pronouns: He/himEthnicity/species: Lalaland European; he comes from a family of Norwegian swan witches.Birthplace/birthdate: January 21, somewhere in Svalbard.Guilty pleasures: Cass is the type of person who feels obligated to be doing something 24/7, so just. Unwinding and Not Doing Anything is something he considers to be a guilty pleasure. Napping, sitting in the park watching people pass by, going to the local pool/lake/miscellaneous water body and just floating aimlessly watching the clouds drift past … yeah, that’s the life.Phobias: It’s not all that uncommon a fear, but Cass hates the Naraka more than anything else because he’s had some experience with getting too close to it. He doesn’t like the cold, or still waters – together, they remind him far too much of the Sea of Samsara. One of his worst nightmares usually entails drowning, the open sea, deep waters, burial at sea, and shipwrecks.What they would be famous for: Very few people use blood magic, especially in conjunction with healing, and Cass is one of them. He may or may not have gotten a few lessons in between from a certain blood mage snake witch, long before her fall from grace. Take that how you will. :^)What they would get arrested for: Robbery. Mostly by virtue of wandering off without realising he hasn’t paid for something, only to set off the alarms as he leaves. Or can you also get arrested for being too smug, and being snide to whoever arrests you? Cass would probably always be held in contempt of the court, no matter what the original charges.Ship them with: … Sho. Remember when I said it’s complicated. His first love was Alistair but it was rather one-sided and never really got anywhere, and Cass knows he’d be lying if he said he didn’t still kinda hold a torch for everyone’s favourite resident jerk stag. And … re: Sho, he was supposed to be playing wingman (ha) or something for Sera but look what happened. Oh no. Oh no, he’s cute. Most likely to murder them: Anybody who has beef against Alistair, naturally. The Bureau – and the most likely candidate may well be Ren. Hell, let’s not even go that far and think about the Bureau – he’d let Alistair murder him. Wait, come back, he didn’t say that out loud, did he.Favourite movie/book genre:… he likes documentaries and educational videos. They’re good to have as background noise while he’s doing something else, though he always changes the channel if it’s one of those deep-sea specials. He’s also got a National Geographic subscription, and likes the photography spreads.Least favourite movie/book genre: Crime and horror. He’s seen enough shit to last a lifetime, thanks, and his normal life has quite a few dead person horrormonsters in it; he’s not a fan of his entertainment having them too. Nor does he want to be reminded of the depths of depravity the human condition is capable of sinking to.Talents/powers: He’s a good artist, particularly with inks and watercolours! One of his favourite hobbies as a kid used to be sitting at the lake on his family’s estate, painting the scenery. Good eye for detail and figure/gestures, and a pretty dab hand at landscapes. Also an accomplished blood mage/cleric, though that doesn’t come into play quite as much.Why someone might love them: All things considered, he’s pretty honest and to the point, and can be rather direct – he’s just not very good at being subtle. Also has a pretty wry sense of humour, even if it takes a while to show through.How they change: He gets a haircut. HAHAHA. Okay, I’m joking. Gets over his reservations re: demons and demony bullshit, stops being so gung-ho about the blood magic business, stuff like that.

Why you love them: I’m a fan of characters who look serious and foreboding and are actually pretty chill. I am also a fan of those that look deadly serious but have a weird streak. Hypercompetent in some areas, utter dorks in others. :’)Full name: Tilottama KulkarniGender/orientation: Female, bi.Pronouns: She/herEthnicity/species: Lalaland Indian, from a family of snake witches.Birthplace/birthdate: March 6, in Maharashtra. Guilty pleasures: It’s a well-established fact that she likes people-watching, and sometimes making up stories about their lives when she’s bored or surveilling/staking out a mark. It goes without saying that the wilder and more sordid, the more fun. She’s not against sharing said stories, either, especially if the listening party is also involved in said story. The more horrified their reactions, the more fun!Phobias: Going insane and demoning out. Her family has quite the history of demoning out – almost a 100% rate, which is high even for witches. She tries to rein in the Sway from the Spine and mostly succeeds, but fears it getting to her; it’s a big part of why she ignored Eri’s offers of joining her grand demony agendas. She doesn’t need help in that, thanks.What they would be famous for: Setting a new world record for lowest limbo? Don’t look at her like that, it’s a perfectly valid claim to fame. Maybe in another life, she’d have become famous as a traditional dancer (and she used to try teaching Sav a bit too, but their styles are very different), but this is not that life, alas.What they would get arrested for: Cheerful obstruction of justice. She can be frustratingly obfuscating when she wants to be and knows it. I guess technically everyone here would get arrested for murder at some point or another, because, y’know. That’s just the way things are in Quell’s Wonderful Lalaland.Ship them with: Kinda had a casual thing with Millie when they were trainees, though she currently prefers making up her wild and sordid stories to actually being involved in them. At some point, everyone expected her and HP to be a thing since they were childhood friends but they never really got into that; both of them mutually agreed they weren’t each other’s type, and left it at that – though she did admit taming HP would’ve been a fun challenge, had he not eventually tamed himself. Haha.Most likely to murder them: Again, the Bureau is the most likely candidate – and for extra irony or whatever, it could well be Eri. For Science. You know, kill a witch whose family is known for demoning out, demon out yourself, eat the other. She’s also informed the likes of Ming, Lin and Yong to put her down in a worst case scenario, because she trusts in their abilities to put aside personal feelings and end things.Favourite movie/book genre: Historical fantasy dramas, and over-the-top theatrics with terrible effects. Sometimes they intersect and that’s TWICE THE FUN. Sure, serious historical dramas are great and all, don’t get her wrong (and she can get pretty emotional in them HAHA she’s the type of person to connect to the characters and resonate with the storyline or whatever) but she has a huge soft spot for the ones that take their unironic corniness up to eleven.Least favourite movie/book genre: Anything that should, by premise, be ridiculous as fuck, but takes itself too seriously. C’mon, man, where’s the fun in that? There’s way too much media that takes itself too seriously. You gotta be able to laugha t yourself and relish and revel in your cheesiness sometimes.Talents/powers: Can chug a litre of liquid in under twenty seconds. It made for a neat party trick and still kinda does! Just, y’know. Not that often. And uhh I guess even as an archer and a generally ranged caster she’s very good with melee and hand-to-hand and her favourite approach to solving closer-ranged problems is to punch it right in the face. Even amongst water-root witches she’s a very fast and fluid caster, and can use minimal movement and gesture to great effect.Why someone might love them: She’s chill, she’s fun, she’s a good listener. A good budget therapist, in a pinch! She’s pretty perceptive and good at picking up on subtle cues or subconscious hints even if the other person may not even know about them. Guess there’s a good reason she’s trusted with a lot of negotiation stuff and/or recon.How they change: She’ll eventually accept that demoning out isn’t really in her power and she probably won’t get a lot of say in it, and to stop being so paranoid about it happening. It’s okay, carpe diem and all that, and she learns to embrace that fully, and practise what she preaches.

Why you love them: I like characters that stay idealistic and true to themselves despite the world being crapsack. She’s not quite on the level of Yuna or Nagi, but she’s also not as jaded as some her age are.

[gharsonist]

1 - 150, please 😊

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? Like platonic hardcore hand holding? Lea. Real hand holding? You2. Are you outgoing or shy? SHY3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? You4. Are you easy to get along with? Duh, of course5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? I sure hope so, though they’d probably be drunk too6. What kind of people are you attracted to? Honest, real people7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? I plan on being8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? Currently @danielhowell cause I’m watching his livestream from hours ago9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Um, yes, sometimes10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? You11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? “Ah fuck Bio”12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? Young And Menace - Fall Out Boy, Empire Of The Clouds - Iron Maiden, Wicked Game - Stones Hour, Nine In The Afternoon - P!ATD, Thnks fr th Mmrs - Fall Out Boy13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Mostly, yes14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? Not really15. What good thing happened this summer? Summer is yet to come16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Ummm...jk, yes17. Do you think there is life on other planets? HELL YEAH18. Do you still talk to your first crush? Nope19. Do you like bubble baths? No20. Do you like your neighbors? Yes21. What are you bad habits? I can’t sit still for long 22. Where would you like to travel? Israel23. Do you have trust issues? Not really24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Not waking up, that’s for sure25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? I dunno, EVERYTHING, jk, I really don’t know26. What do you do when you wake up? Turn off my alarm27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Darker28. Who are you most comfortable around? You29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? What ex?30. Do you ever want to get married? One day, maybe31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail? Yes32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? I am not a fan of those kinda things33. Spell your name with your chin. No, I won’t look like an idiot doing that34. Do you play sports? What sports? Tennis 35. Would you rather live without TV or music? TV, def TV36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? No37. What do you say during awkward silences? Something to make things even more awkward38. Describe your dream girl/guy? You, honest and real39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? Foot Locker, Snipes 40. What do you want to do after high school? Travel for a bit41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? Depends on what they did to fuck up their first chance42. If you’re being extremely quiet what does it mean? Mostly that I just have nothing to say. Sometimes I’m tired and rarely I’m not feeling well43. Do you smile at strangers? I do44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Both? If I have to choose, I’ll take the trip to outer space45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? Knowing I have to got to school46. What are you paranoid about? A lot of things, probs47. Have you ever been high? No48. Have you ever been drunk? No?49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? No50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? Green51. Ever wished you were someone else? No52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? I’d like to be a little bit smaller53. Favourite makeup brand? I don’t use makeup54. Favourite store? Media Markt55. Favourite blog? I can’t just choose one @capsharkis @gandalfthepretty @evanstanisbae @bescheuerter-name56. Favourite colour? Green57. Favourite food? Pizza58. Last thing you ate? Spätzle59. First thing you ate this morning? Cake60. Ever won a competition? For what? I’ve won tournaments61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? No62. Been arrested? For what? Never 63. Ever been in love? Yes64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? I don’t think I need to tell you about this one65. Are you hungry right now? I just ate66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? No67. Facebook or Twitter? Facebook68. Twitter or Tumblr? Tumblr69. Are you watching tv right now? No70. Names of your bestfriends? Merle, Beni, Sammy, JB (and you’re still my bestfriend even tho you’re my gf)71. Craving something? What? Sleep72. What colour are your towels? Mostly blue72. How many pillows do you sleep with? One73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Nope74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? Four75. Favourite animal? Wolf76. What colour is your underwear? White77. Chocolate or Vanilla? Vanilla78. Favourite ice cream flavour? Yoghurt 79. What colour shirt are you wearing? White80. What colour pants? Black81. Favourite tv show? Wynonna Earp82. Favourite movie? STAR WARS (all of them)83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? I know neither84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? 21 Jump Street85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? ...86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? DORY87. First person you talked to today? Lea88. Last person you talked to today? My dad89. Name a person you hate? Hate is such a strong word and I’d rather not say that name on here90. Name a person you love? Myself, duh91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? oh yes92. In a fight with someone? Define fight, they don’t wanna talk93. How many sweatpants do you have? Not enough94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? Also not enough95. Last movie you watched? Guardians of the Galaxy - Vol. 296. Favourite actress? Cote de Pablo97. Favourite actor? Sebastian Stan98. Do you tan a lot? When I go out99. Have any pets? Quite a few100. How are you feeling? Well101. Do you type fast? Usually yes102. Do you regret anything from your past? Yes103. Can you spell well? Yeah104. Do you miss anyone from your past? No105. Ever been to a bonfire party? I wouldn’t call it a party per se106. Ever broken someone’s heart? I hope not107. Have you ever been on a horse? Course108. What should you be doing? Studying biology109. Is something irritating you right now? Fucking you-know-who who now, apparently, doesn’t wanna talk about it 110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? But it’s a good kinda pain111. Do you have trust issues? Not really112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? A bunch of people at my granddad’s funeral113. What was your childhood nickname? Franzi114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? Of course115. Do you play the Wii? YES116. Are you listening to music right now? Yes117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? Nah118. Do you like Chinese food? Yes119. Favourite book? Don’t make me choose120. Are you afraid of the dark? No121. Are you mean? No122. Is cheating ever okay? NO123. Can you keep white shoes clean? No124. Do you believe in love at first sight? There’s a lotta nos but no, not really125. Do you believe in true love? I believe in love, isn’t that enough?126. Are you currently bored? Obvs or I wouldn’t answer 150 freaking questions127. What makes you happy? Spending time with friends, listening to music, you, sunshine, playing tennis128. Would you change your name? No129. What your zodiac sign? Gemini130. Do you like subway? Yes131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? He would already know I’m not into boys132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? You (are those questions repeating themselves?)133. Favourite lyrics right now? Nine In The Afternoon134. Can you count to one million? I’m sure I could135. Dumbest lie you ever told? There’s a lot of those136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? Closed137. How tall are you? 1,75m 138. Curly or Straight hair? Kinda a mix of both139. Brunette or Blonde? Blonde140. Summer or Winter? Summer141. Night or Day? Night142. Favourite month? June143. Are you a vegetarian? No144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? Milk145. Tea or Coffee? Both146. Was today a good day? Yes147. Mars or Snickers? Mars148. What’s your favourite quote? “how rare and beautiful it is to even exist” (it’s actually a lyrics)149. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? “Are you hurt?” Jason asked her.   

[seashellsoldier]

“The Sound of the Beast: The Complete Headbanging History of Heavy Metal” by Ian Christie, 2004.

For those who may not know, Ian Christie is a mainstay DJ on SiriusXM’s Liquid Metal channel, and he hosts a riveting show called Bloody Roots where he tackles some thematic issue each time, be it Folk Metal from the UK, the origins of Black Metal in Scandinavia; he even did an ode to children and childhood through heavy metal music. Needless to say, this dude’s a sage on the subject and a kindred spirit of alliteration meshed with a heroic writing style. As one of the back cover plugs by the Library Journal says: “Christie might as well drop the ‘e’ from his name because he has just delivered the gospel of heavy metal.”

This book is over a decade old, and even though history is what it is, some of the more “modern sections” (read: Internet age) lose their luster simply because cable TV, Headbangers Ball, Rock Video Monthly, and the web allowed much easier access to underground music that could never make it to FM radio. As a side note, I know there is an interesting, if not somewhat silly, academic base in Northern Europe focused on “heavy metal studies,” which is (abstractly) a sub-set blending of sociology and musicology, linked by the psychology between leaders (bands) and followers (fans). If you have access to academic databases, check it out. Free college for all allows for odd subject-matter specialization, I guess.

Now most critics, and Christie, say Black Sabbath was the true point of origin for every single facet of heavy metal, in 1970. However, Hazlit recently published an interesting feminist critique alluding otherwise ( http://hazlitt.net/blog/heavy-metal-feminism ), and really no one can now remember what was going on in basements and garages, dive bars, and pubs in backwater venues. Of course, no one pops out of the womb with an electric guitar and a song: everyone is influenced by someone else. Sabbath was influenced by the Stones, the Stones were heavy into southern blues music, the Deep South Blues were influenced by centuries of slavery and slave songs …

I suspect lots of young bands trying new things out of the 60s never made it into the spotlight, but for all intents and purposes, the Brits did it first in the 70s (Sabbath, Motörhead, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden), and the U.S. took it harder, faster, and darker in the 80s (Metallica, Slayer, Anthrax, Megadeth, Pantera). Now, it’s pure, beautiful bedlam aching almost every corner of this dark world. Of course I’m generalizing here. The social-psychology of how heavy metal came to be through fan-reaction is very meme-like in the classic sense of the term. Word-of-mouth, tape sharing, fanzines, mom & pop music shops, and concert-going were the only real way kids could get hooked, before cable TV, radio stations, and the Internet embraced it in the early-mid 90s. Nowadays the spectrum of sub-genres in metal is staggering, and Christie himself has made a more-or-less formal taxonomy of it all, which is brilliant as much as it is limiting by the oppressive power of labels. Christie goes into more depth with his radio show, and his publishing company (http://www.bazillionpoints.com) churns out titles regularly, all focused on metal music. That said, this book does a nice job of sometimes looking at the social and political contexts of the metal music scene across the timeline, and across the planet, at least up until 2003. The final section is him putting his finger on the pulse of metal and making predictions in the post-9/11 world, which of course Time makes such things moot.

I think the best comparison I can make is that heavy metal and all its sub-genres are very much akin to postmodern fine art when looked at along its timeline. No other type of music can be defined by its ever-pushing of boundaries, challenging, twisting, shocking, transforming, self-destroying, turning inward, exploding outward, mocking, writhing, screaming, searing … and at times, being witch-hunted by Neocons, slandered by the media, feared by the ignorant, and, sadly, selling out (i.e., Metallica). To me, metal is also the most topical, often digging deep into the human condition with life and death, mortality and demise, war and religion, hypocrisy and oppression. Again, look at Sabbath. It starts, more or less, with them.

For me, this book was a nostalgic odyssey, seeing the forces at play upon our young minds that we were all mostly oblivious to back then. We connected to the music because it was underground, riotous, unpopular, not on the radio. It was communing with a fringe group, often without knowledge of, or dialogue with, one another, because the music spoke for us. We were, and may forever be, the outcasts of popular society. Having grown up in the 80s, and being at the far eastern edge of Chicagoland, with luck and clear skies, we could bend the rabbit ears antennae on the TV and pick up Channel 50 on the UHF dial. This was the obscure channel that showed Godzilla movies, hosted Samurai Sundays filled with B-style Kung-fu flicks, and during the summer months played music videos, one of which was Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It.” This was probably in 1985-6; I was 12-13 years old. Taking paper route money, I bought a compilation cassette tape titled “Heavy Metal Thunder.” Anyone remember this one? Twisted Sister, Dio, Judas Priest, Scorpions, etc. Blew the doors off my mind and I was hooked forevermore. First live concert was Megadeth (Rust in Peace) opening for Judas Priest (Painkiller), while my second was the mighty Milwaukee Metal Fest to see Nuclear Assault, amongst so many others, riding with a friend through Chicago in a beat-up Jeep Gladiator pickup. My prized Global Annihilation Tour shirt was worn until it was tatters. This was 1989.

The fact that both Motörhead and Iron Maiden just released great new albums is a true testament to the longevity of the genre at its purest roots. Spotify analytics determined that although rap is the genre most globally ubiquitous, metal listeners are the most loyal. I’m proud of that. It might just say it all.

This book is a terrific resource for further reading, and a great general guide to the big picture of a music genre over its first thirty years. Kids, expand your musical minds, and know your roots!!!

Photos, clearly biased by me, and leaving out hundreds of bands that influenced one another … 1) Black Sabbath 2) Motörhead 3) Iron Maiden 4) Twisted Sister 5) W.A.S.P. 6) Metallica 7) Slayer 8) Pantera 9) Slipknot

[viralhottopics]

‘Think about the bigger picture’: life lessons from Meryl Streep and other successful women

Theyve won Oscars, Pulitzers and Nobel peace prizes: eight women at the top of their game tell us how they got there

Meryl Streep has been nominated for more Academy Awards than any other actor, and has won for Kramer vs Kramer, Sophies Choice and The Iron Lady. In 2015, she sent every member of Congress a letter supporting a proposed amendment to the US constitution to mandate equal rights for women; the amendment was not passed

I didnt always want to be an actor. I thought I wanted to be a translator at the UN and help people understand each other. Some young people come into acting because they see it as glossy and heightened and more sort of divine than their existence; but what interests me is getting deep into someone elses life, to understand what compelled them to move in one direction or the other. That other stuff, Ive never liked. My mother used to say, People would give their right arm to walk down that red carpet. Enjoy it! You just cant change who you are.

Womens rights? Were going to keep talking about it until theres balance – Meryl Streep on equality

The influencers in our industry are overwhelmingly men: the critics, the directors branch of the Academy. If they were overwhelmingly female, there would be a hue and cry about it. Women have 17% of the influence, more or less, in every part of the decision-making process in the industry and, inevitably, thats going to decide what kind of films are made. But the material that comes to me is still interesting. Im 67, so mostly I get things for people that age, and there are wonderful projects that would never have existed even 10 years ago. Twenty years ago, I would have been playing witches and crones.

Going from job to job, never knowing where the next one would be, has allowed me to spend time with my four kids more than if Id worked at a desk job. Thats a really tough gig, and I dont know if I could have had four kids and done that. Decisions I made in my career were not always based on aesthetic criteria: was it near, was it going to be shot in the vacation? You make all sorts of compromises in order to have this other thing that you value. My girls and my son and my husband are all way too much in each others business, I would say, but were close and thats important. I always tried to stay challenged and work hard, but also keep my hand in and stir the pot at home.

I spent far too much time when I was younger thinking about how much I weighed. If I could go back, Id say, Think about the bigger picture. Of course, its a visual medium. We think about our looks. I dont bring a suitcase with my dossier in it to an audition, I bring my body, so you cant moan about the fact that youre judged on your looks: its showbusiness. But the other thing is that youre representing lives, and lives look all different ways and shapes. Thats one thing I do see changing, and its really good. It makes the cultural landscape richer.

Nimco Ali, co-founder of Daughters of Eve. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Nimco Ali was born in Somalia. She is the co-founder, with Leyla Hussein, of Daughters of Eve, a non-profit organisation that supports young women from communities that practise female genital mutilation (FGM)

I had FGM as a seven-year-old, and later saw girls going through it, but I didnt join the conversation. Then I started to see my silence as complicity. Around 2010, I moved to London and came across people working around FGM, but I couldnt see what they were trying to achieve. I wanted to educate people, yes, but this isnt a question of ignorance; its organised crime. I got together with Leyla, and we started to do more with MPs.

I want to place the responsibility in the hands of the state. Ive seen community work being done for years, and it doesnt work. Its not up to communities to police themselves. People were saying, How can mothers allow this? but I was saying, How can you, as a citizen of this country, know a five-year-old is about to be cut and stand by because youre afraid to offend her community? Youre telling that child she doesnt matter.

It was early 2011 when I first said, Im Nimco and Im an FGM survivor. A lot of people were shocked. But I didnt want to be treated with sympathy: I wanted to talk about survivors, not victims, and I wanted to prevent it.

First came redefining FGM with the Home Office as an act of violence; then defining it as child abuse. It was a way of saying to these girls, Youre British and we care about you as much as anyone else. My vagina is British; it doesnt have a different passport.

The first time my picture appeared in a newspaper, I had death threats. I stayed in bed for two days, wondering, Is it worth it? But then I felt guilty. If a girl goes through infibulation and then disappears, we never find out. If something happens to me, at least someone will know.

Having friends I can talk to has been an immense help. A girl came up to me on the tube and said, Are you Nimco, the girl who talks about FGM? And I thought, This is where I get spat on. But she wanted to thank me.

I dont think of myself as a leader, but as part of a chain. If it wasnt for all the amazing women who came before me, I wouldnt be able to do any of it.

Samantha Power, US ambassador to the United Nations. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Samantha Power moved to the US from Ireland when she was nine. Her first book, A Problem From Hell: America And The Age Of Genocide, won a Pulitzer prize. In 2013, she was made US ambassador to the United Nations

I had recently graduated from university in 1992 when I saw images in the New York Times of bone-thin stick figures in camps in the former Yugoslavia images I didnt think one could see in the 90s. I wanted to help, but didnt have any skills. I had been a sports reporter in college, so I decided to try my luck at being a war correspondent. It was a bit of a crazy idea, but a lot of young people were doing the same thing, because they felt horrified and powerless.

Im not great at languages, but Im great at talking, and my stubborn desire to communicate with people got me to the point where I could do interviews in the local language. I wrote about my experience, and looked at why the US did what it did when faced with genocide in the 20th century. One key conclusion was how hard it was to effect change. But it still felt as though no other organisation could make an impact like the US government. It seemed to me it would be more efficient to be inside the government than on the outside, throwing darts.

These werent steps on a conventional path, and my advice to young people would be not to decide on a job title and script a path toward it, but to develop your interests go deep instead of wide.

Ive tried to inject individual stories into everything I do: real faces and real people. Empowering women to get involved in government and diplomacy brings a different set of perspectives, which benefits everyone. This isnt a theory, its a fact: according to the UN, womens participation increases the probability of peace deals lasting 15 years by 35%.

My son was born in 2009 and my daughter in 2012, and I hope, as a result of this job, theyll be more empathetic, more globally curious. My son is a big baseball fan, as am I, and when Im finished, were going to travel the US and see a game in each of the different ballparks. I hope to make up for some of the lost time.

Mhairi Black MP. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Mhairi Black is the SNP MP for Paisley and Renfrewshire South. In 2015, aged 20, she became the youngest British MP since 1667. Her maiden speech in the Commons had 11m views online

I was brought up in Paisley: it was Mum, Dad, my older brother and me. We used to go on caravan holidays to the north of Scotland. My mums mum had 13 children, so I had lots of cousins to play with.

Our family has always been politically aware: my grandparents were involved in trade unions and Mum and Dad were teachers. When I was eight, my parents, brother, aunties and I marched against the Iraq war in Glasgow. Tony Blair was in town for the Labour party conference, but apparently he got word of the march, so, by the time we were marching past the building hed disappeared in a helicopter. I remember finding that really unfair, even at eight.

Inequality of any kind is the thing that drives me. I always look at who is losing out, and why. Everything I am interested in boils down to the fact that theres an injustice happening somewhere.

When the independence referendum was announced, I was a yes voter, and I thought, if there was ever a time to join a political party, its now. After we lost the referendum, a couple of folk in the local SNP party were saying I should put my name forward to be a candidate, and I said, Dont be daft. Im 20. What do I know about life? I was giving myself the sort of criticism that other people give me now. People in the constituency started challenging me, saying, Why is that a bad thing? Surely parliament should represent everybody. And I thought, Thats a good point. OK, Ill go through the vetting process and see if I pass.

I had no idea what to do after university, but I think its good to try things and, if youre good at them, keep going and see how far you get. Mum and Dad taught my brother and me to have confidence in ourselves, but never arrogance theres a fine line. Confidence comes from giving yourself credit when its due. My parents always said that as long as you know your stuff and you know what it is youre going for and why, and if youve practised hard and think youre good enough, then, by all means, stand up and make sure youre counted.

Ill be happy if, in five years time, I can say, The place I am representing has been better represented than it ever was before.

I think part of the problem with politics has been people viewing it as a career. You shouldnt be in it in order to become first minister. It has to be for a purpose, and it has to be in the present.

Tavi Gevinson, editor-in-chief of Rookie magazine. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Tavi Gevinson is a writer, actor and editor-in-chief of the online magazine Rookie, which she launched aged 15

People talk about how the internet can make us less connected, but there are also people who cant find that connection to others elsewhere, whether at school or in marginalised communities. With Rookie, I want to create a place where you can make real friendships.

My mother is an artist, and when I was little we were always making stuff, so there was never any fear around creating different things pictures, outfits. I would get home from school, grab the camera and tripod, go into the back yard and just do it. This was way before people could make a living out of fashion blogs.

When I was 13, and living in Oak Park, Illinois, my Style Rookie blog gave me access to a world I would not otherwise have had access to no way would I have been able to see a fashion show without that.

I was OK with challenging people, and I didnt mind if people didnt like my outfits. Fashion has a bad rap, about being shallow, about pleasing men, so I was happy I was wearing unfashionable, bizarre outfits celebrating fashion, but not some beautiful, sexualised model.

On many of the fashion blogs I read, women talked about feminism freely. It felt like a movement of the past, but I realised I had been a feminist before I ever identified as one.

After a series of false starts, I started talking on my blog about what an honest magazine for teen girls would look like. There are people whose jobs are to figure out how teenagers feel; I thought Id go straight to the source not so they could be targeted by marketing companies, but so that young people could have a network.

Ive done my job if people are inspired or entertained or feel more OK with themselves after seeing something on Rookie. We never tell people how to think or feel; we want to tell our readers they already have all the answers. If you want to do something, just do it! You can start 80 new lives if you want. You have to try, and be open and excited about failure, because it teaches you a lot.

Dame Athene Donald. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Dame Athene Donald is professor of experimental physics at the University of Cambridge and master of Churchill College

When I was at school, girls werent expected to have careers. I assumed that after university, Id get a job and then get married. I say to those who are setting out now, its fine not to know what you want to do.

I got married when I was doing my PhD. My husband had a couple of fellowships, but I was the one who got the permanent position. He stopped working for a long time, although it wasnt necessarily what he wanted to do. We have two children, now grown up. I have always been uncomfortable being held up as the woman who has done it all: I know what costs were involved. You do need to marry the right person. I think there is still a presumption that childcare is the womans problem; its not, its the couples problem.

There were subtle gender-stereotyping pressures against physics when I was young. Nowadays, numerous initiatives encourage more girls into science. Its a question of constantly pushing back against the idea that girls do certain things and boys do other things.

At times, I still feel in the minority. I sat on one very high-level committee chaired by a man who addressed the group as gentlemen, even though two of us were women. I later wrote to him, pointing out the discourtesy; he replied that it was just the terminology he was used to it didnt mean anything. The next time he did it, though, one of the men pulled him up and he never did it again. That was probably more effective than if Id made a fuss there and then.

Our intake of women to men is nothing like 50:50, and I would very much like to improve the ratio. We already do an enormous amount of outreach, and I blog and Im on Twitter, because it enables me to reach more people.

Its hugely important to remind the government how much science matters to the economy. We dont have North Sea oil any more, and the banking industry is falling to pieces. Science and engineering are at the heart of our capacity to innovate and grow.

Ava DuVernay, film director. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Ava DuVernay is a film director, screenwriter and founder of distribution company Array. Her 2014 film Selma, about Martin Luther King, was nominated for a best picture Academy Award

I didnt grow up around artists, and I dont come from a family of artists. When I graduated from college I got into film publicity, but I never thought I could be the film-maker. Then I found myself on many sets, and started to believe I could do it, too.

I like that independence that comes from doing things for yourself, and doing them well. Editing, directing, producing, financing, distributing and publicising my own first films gave me a grasp of the process.

In the early parts of making Selma, I didnt believe it was going to happen, even as I was making it. My father is from Montgomery, Alabama, which is very close to Selma, so I knew the place and had a handle on that time in history. I started telling the story and, before I knew it, it was in movie theatres. It was so fast, I never had a chance to think, Oh my gosh, can I do this? I just thought, Im going to keep going until someone tells me to stop.

As a black woman film-maker there isnt a lot of support there arent many of us around so instead of not doing something, I figure out a way to do it without support. As you start to create your own work, you attract help from like-minded people; you can never attract it if youre sitting still.

The landscape has changed since I started my distribution company in 2010; we have Netflix, Amazon, all these streaming platforms. Its an incredible time to be an artist, especially for those who had been left behind. I find it very exciting to think, Im not going to continue knocking on that old door that doesnt open for me; Im going to create my own door and walk through that.

I always say: work without permission. So many of us work from a permission-based place, waiting for someone to say its OK. So often I hear people asking, How do I get started? You just start. It wont be perfect. Itll be messy and itll be hard, but youre on your way.

Leymah Gbowee, peace activist. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Leymah Gbowee is a Liberian peace activist. In 2002, angered by the civil war, the then 30-year-old social worker and mother of four (she now has seven children) organised a march on the capital, with a sit-in that lasted months, leading President Charles Taylor to agree to peace talks. The womens actions led to the removal of Taylor and the inauguration of Africas first female president, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, with whom Gbowee shared the Nobel peace prize in 2011

I was 17 when the civil war started. I had just finished high school and was planning to be a doctor, but the war upended everything. I did a three-month social work course, because that seemed the most immediate way to help. In time, I worked with former child soldiers. I was in one village when the government sent in a truck to abduct children and teach them how to use AK47s. I was with the mothers, watching their children being taken.

By 1998 I had met activists from Sierra Leone who claimed that women could change things, but it was only when I began to work with the wives of ex-combatants that I saw what they meant. The ex-soldiers were often very violent and angry, but their wives stood up to them.

There was a lot of work to do to create a movement that would have some impact: it took us two and a half years. The important thing was that we had no political agenda: we had a shared vision for peace. We were there because we cared about our families.

In 2002 we marched on the capital, Monrovia. There were thousands of us. When we started a sex strike, it became a huge story, and an opportunity for us to talk about peace. Then, when it was clear that nothing was coming of the peace talks in Ghana, we went to the hotel where they were being held and said we would disrobe. This horrified people: to see a married or elderly woman deliberately bare herself is thought to bring down a terrible curse.

We were able to use things that were ours our empathy, the ways we are perceived to make the men listen. It is important we understand our strengths, because in war, the rape and abuse of women and children are seen as ways to demoralise the enemy, to show them they are unable to take care of their families.

It is no longer an option for women to say, Im not a politician. We need to up our game. The age-old excuse has been that we cant find the good women. It is time for the good women to step up.

Extracted from The Female Lead, published next month by Penguin at 30. To order a copy for 25.50, go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846.

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from ‘Think about the bigger picture’: life lessons from Meryl Streep and other successful women