#i originally wrote this to build muse for em

[kaaaaaaarf]

20 asks for fic writers

Thank you for tagging me, @fruityindividual, @lynxindisguise, @butcherbacterium & @spindrifters <333

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

14

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

56,757

3. What fandoms do you write for?

HP Marauders.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Killing Time (unwillingly mine) aka murder husbands

Now I'm Spreading Your Legs (with mine in between) aka the original hatefuck

soft like silk chiffon aka silk slip Remus

back when we were dinosaurs aka museum

Rolling In The Deep aka divorced sopping wet wolfstar

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, of course!! I love getting comments, they sustain me. I need them to live.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending

Oh, hmm. I try to give all my fics a somewhat happy ending. I guess my blood is singing with your voice, which is my Midsommar au...I think you can guess how that ends.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think that museum will probably win this once it's finished, but for now I would say I Knew Your Love Before I Knew Your Name and You Grew Tall (I Stayed The Same).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far no. I have received some weird feedback before, but nothing hateful.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

hahaha Listen. When I started writing fic I was like "I will never write smut, it's too hard to do it right." and then the first fic I published was my original hatefuck fic. 🤷 In fact, I think I'm best known for my Hatefuck Extended Universe series.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have not, I don't really think it's for me.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. Like Lynx said, I think there are a lot of themes and motifs that float around the fandom so inevitably you're going to find something that is similar to yours. I have had people reach out and ask if they can write something inspired by my fic or like, with a similar theme (murder husbands) and I really appreciated the asking.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet! I don't know how I feel about it...there's no way for me to ensure that they have kept the story the same, ya know? I guess it would be a case by case basis.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

B, Kels and I started a sort of Miami Vice AU, but it sort of fell to the side. It was fun to collaborate, but we collaborate on every fic we write anyways, so.

In general, I don't think I'm the right person to co-write with because my muse is so fickle and comes and goes. I wouldn't want to let anyone down.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Wolfstar at the moment! I will always be an everlark shipper though.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have had a wolfstar girldads au sitting in my notes app forever and I would love to write it, but the muse never sticks around for long. I also have a soulmate au that I started but will likely never finish. I think my take is unique, but I've just never been able to figure out how I could make it work.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh, I guess I have a really good grasp on the characters I'm trying to write, and I think I'm also good at humour. Also if you need a flowery metaphor, I'm your girl.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

World building. I'm just incredibly lazy and not that imaginative. I also have terrible grammar. I use em-dashes to hide that fact that I have no idea how to correctly use a semi-colon.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I mean I would do it, but only if I had a friend who could proof-read for me. The last thing I want to do is write something in another language that takes a native speaker out of the fic entirely.

The title of my fic In ár gCroíthe go deo is Irish, but it's also a song title from Fontaines DC so I didn't have to worry about that so much.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

This one! Marauders. I've only been writing since April.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

The ones I'm most proud of are The Killing Time (unwillingly mine) and back when we were dinosaurs.

no pressure tagging: @kaleidoscopexsighs, @grimjobs, @vajazzly, @crushofdoves, @greenvlvetcouch, @sommerregenjuniluft, @cancerravenclaw, @facewithoutheart, @sheisraging , @achilleslikespeas, @hihimissamericanbi, @colgatebluemintygel and @thefairylights

[ofemeline]

if this is to end in fire then we should all burn together

an emeline siobhan mireen self para.

the mood is somber tonight. it has been, for more than a fortnight. and despite the responsibilities resting on her shoulders-- the promises she carelessly promised to people. emeline is lost. she’d accepted refugees into her kingdom, people with the potential to harm her or her people and yet-- she needed to leave. get out of dracborough, leave the heat. it’s too much, now. the gods have yet to give her a sign of what she should do, she hadn’t even met with king henry on how to fix the mess that nathaniel ( may he rest in peace ) left the world in. though, she supposes, she cannot blame him. but because of this conclusion, she feels angry with him-- for leaving her with the burden of fixing everything or giving her the option to watch the world burn.

the latter seems tempting but she knows what he would want-- she knows what the right thing to do is. and yet, here she stands across ysellian who looks at her warily. never had she visited him at such a late time. but she itches to leave. having not heard much from the kradaecans or the bearorians, perhaps she ought to see it for herself. it takes her but quick time to straddle the back of the charcoal colored dragon and soon, she is off into the night. 

it’s a peaceful ride, slow and quiet. almost as if ysellian knows of her clenched heart, how pained she’d been. and she’s grateful that the beast can read her so well, perhaps even better than her own advisors who speak the common tongue. green hues peer down at the ground, ignoring the cloud that whisks passed them. it’s dark, making it difficult to see. her hands grip the spikes along his back tightly, urging him lower to the ground. without much protest, he lowers himself, giving her a better view of the land before her. there’s trees that they loom above and it takes her but several seconds to recognize the forbidden forest. 

soon enough, she catches the small torches that light up the kingdom of bearoria. she’s careful to keep them at a considerable distance, hoping no guards or scouts spot them. the ride is silent, nothing to be heard but the whoosh of ysellian’s wings. it feels odd, she’d expected burning of the huts and anarchy but instead, it looks normal. as if there had been no invasion to begin with. which all the more angers her and with a push of her legs, she pushes her dragon to fly west, in hopes to leave bearoria, or what looks like bearoria.

her hair breezes in the wind and her eyes water from the speed. suddenly, the flapping of ysellian’s wings can no longer be heard, instead they’re being overlapped by the rush of waves from the great black sea. the smell of salt reaches her senses that cause her to reminisce of her times back in teshayra and she wonders, what is to come with the mess of the teshayra king ?

suddenly, the bow that hangs on her back seems awfully heavy as she approaches the familiar castle. she thinks of how frequently she would visit as a little girl, coming with her father to meet the royals at every kingdom and prepare herself for her queenly duties. she’d come to know the castle inside and out, even before adair was even born. ysellian circles the castle numerous times before they settle near a balcony that overlooks the pitch black ocean. his flapping of wings causes the grass to shiver underneath which serves as a ruckus. and it’s only at that ruckus does the king emerge from his chambers, stepping onto the balcony. 

her bow is in front of her now, an arrow dipped in flaahvra ( a poisonous flower from the lands of teshayra. ) juice aimed right at the man’s head. there are no words exchanged between them. they know what is to come. it feels hours have passed as she sits atop ysellian, an arrow pointed at the usurper who’d come to disrupt their peace. there’s hesitation from emeline, to which the king notices and the slightest of smirks is what triggers her. what pushes her to the edge. her fingers release the string, watching as the arrow swiftly flies through the air, effortlessly, silently and impales the man who falls on his adair’s balcony floor immediately. 

there are no words left to be said, she feels no remorse for the death she caused. for the murder she’d done. she feels nothing as ysellian takes off into the night once more, heading south to their home in the fire.

[clumsyclifford]

bella I would love a directors cut on literally any of the rilex you’ve written, but specifically it’s always her, and you, and me, or for these days you’ve been stuck in my brain 💙

OHHHHHH those are some CHOICESSSSSS lucy. fuck yeah. let’s get into it. ill link them both here but we’ll take em one at a time

it’s always her, and me, you

these days you’ve been stuck in my brain

here’s a cut for convenience cos i KNOW i’m gonna go long here.

okay! let’s start with the rilisex fic.

it’s always her, and me, and you

so like it says in the ao3 notes, this fic came from realizing just how frequently rian and alex kiss each other like, all the time? just? casually? for funsies? this was another one of those situations like i mentioned where the hook aka first line (“Rian's no expert, but he doesn't think normal friends kiss this much.”) just appeared in my head and i was like heyyy that’s a GOOD first line. i have to build from that line. that’s the hook, that’s the summary, that’s the core. 

something i discovered upon searching through the editing history of the doc: i had originally sort of intended to go a direction with this where in some other circumstance, rian would see alex giving jack a super casual friendly kiss and he’d get all sad/jealous and be like sure why SHOULDNT alex kiss jack after all its just a thing he does with his FRIENDS. but the fic ended up going a different way and honestly? im glad. i like this way better.

the role of singin in the rain in this fic actually has a HILARIOUS backstory because the night i originally wrote that conversation in the tour bus kitchen, i went into the club and said the following

and then. the next day. rian streamed with ricky, and i asked if he’d ever seen singin in the rain, and he ANSWERED ME and said he hadn’t. so first of all i had already written the scene and i then had to rewrite it to make it so rian wouldn’t have seen it but also!!! i literally asked rian fucking dawson if he’d seen a movie for the sole reason of using that information for fanfiction!!!! and he provided me with the information i needed!!!! whole thing is just fucking hysterical to me. ANYWAY.

ANYWAY, the other reason why sitr has such a big role in the fic is because megs and i watched the movie together while i was in the middle of working on the fic, so it was extremely fresh in my mind. in fact i can probably show you this: i had this comment left for myself when i was kind of trying to figure out if i could make a real metaphor of sorts with the sitr ot3 and the Big Three of this fic. some of this ended up in rian’s wild musings in the hotel scene but i did conclude that it wouldn’t really have worked and that was definitely true but anyway. fuck it, director’s cut, here’s the kind of shit i leave for myself to refer to

so that’s part of the reason why it became such a puzzle piece of this fic, but real talk, it’s also just because i love singin in the rain it’s one of my favorite movies lmao

briefly gonna also touch on lisa and why she’s in this fic because i realize that rian/alex/lisa is an interesting approach to rilex! first of all, i love lisa. i love alex and lisa. and it occurred to me that there was really no reason to split lisex up just to make rilex happen. plus there’s this tweet that really just pushed me over the edge of being like yeah, rilisex is extremely plausible. so that’s that on that.

as for the scene in the hotel room while they’re watching sitr, there is a small piece of that scene - from when alex starts kissing rian’s shoulders etc to “it would defy the laws of nature not to” - that i actually wrote before anything else in that scene. that small piece got stretched out and edited quite a bit from how it started but it did function as a sort of foundation around which i built the rest of the scene, because that small section sort of ~came to me~ absolutely out of nowhere, and i really liked the Vibe it had and i wanted to include it. i THINK that was the only piece of this fic that i wrote Out Of Order - for the most part this was written chronologically.

ALSO!!! omg this is exciting, this fic actually has a deleted scene!!!!!! i hate cutting scenes but i also hate having scenes that are less than 1k and this one didn’t really contribute much to the fic. i can probably share it here right? sure why not ! hopefully you can read this. it originally took place after the scene where alex and rian call lisa for the first time. the question of “what gets left into interview videos and what gets cut” is also just interesting to me as a (fic) concept in general so...eyes emoji, but here’s my mini-exploration that i cut from the original fic. enjoy lol it’s silly <3

oh! also one more thing!! the very final scene was included for two reasons. the first reason being that when i write getting-together fics, i really prefer to add on a scene After they Get Together because i love to write domestic established relationship stuff and i think that’s a satisfying reward for a reader who’s just slogged through all the mutual pining and bullshit to get the characters together. but the OTHER reason is that i got an anon (here it is!) and i read that ask and was immediately like well shit. now i have to fucking include this. for the anon and for myself. so you can thank that anon for that last scene. (also i wanted to include merrikat especially since i had to cut their little moment in the interview scene above.)

so....................whew. i think i’ve bled that fic dry. holy shit that’s a lot of Stuff. OKAY! let’s move on.

~

these days you’ve been stuck in my brain

so!!! THIS fic was the breakthrough after (what felt like) a long bout of writer’s block. long for me was maybe two weeks, but i am the kind of person who is always writing, and two weeks was a long time to go with little to no inspiration/motivation to write anything. i had also been in a weird narrative headspace because i’d been binge-watching disney shows (jessie > austin and ally > girl meets world) and i don’t know how well i can explain this but the way those shows are written is a lot snappier and cares way less for realistic and consistent character development or plots or relationships, and so i was stuck between caring a lot about including those things in my fics but also being unable to conceptualize them in writing because my brain was in Disney Writing Mode. does that make sense? this is rhetorical so let’s go with yes. so anyway. i was in a slump

actually what i ended up doing was basically googling something like “au prompts tumblr” or something and just scrolling through posts. i saw something about soulmate telepathy and i actually tried to write something totally different before i wrote this one, but the first attempt was a different concept and then the direction i took it was like......it wasn’t quite right and i realized that i was kind of writing dark disney style? there is really no way for me to explain what i mean by that because it seems really obvious to me but that’s just because i’m inside my own head so just take my word. 

anyway. attempt #1 of soulmate telepathy rilex went poorly, and this fic was attempt #2. i kinda took the soulmate telepathy thing and changed it as i saw fit and i also went back to skim helen’s telepathy fic because obviously she’s the pro and then i tried not to steal her ideas. and as i was writing it i kinda realized i was doing the whole quirky funny best friend character with jack and also doing the whole “somehow this not-very-dramatic situation with teenagers is treated as The Most Dramatic Thing Ever and that’s totally normal and nobody finds it strange” disney trope with rian and alex being soulmates and i was like (deep sigh) i have to accept that no matter how much i try to fight this, this fic is going to be tainted with disney. and that’s life

on top of that i will add that the real-life rilex were extremely inspiring during the two-day period during which i wrote this fic, because that was when the once in a lifetime video came out and in the brief pre-video livestream rilex were Beyond Married and that definitely helped in the writing of fic rilex!

hmmmm what can i tell you about this fic itself.................honestly, i don’t think there’s much to tell! rian is a band kid because in real life rian was a band kid and he’s staff manager at rita’s just like he was in real life. there is truthfully not a lot to unpack here that i can think of!

oh here’s something i guess: rian and alex go on a date in this fic! that is because watching So Much Disney made me realize that i often forget the fact that people just. go on dates. sometimes. look i clearly do not have an active romantic life but i also really liked the idea of alex and rian going on a date despite not knowing if they’d be soulmates or not and liking each other organically just by getting to know each other, rather than being victim to the whole soulmate thing. like i wanted them to build a connection so that they would want to be soulmates. and then the audience would want that for them too. stakes!! very important.

i can tell you i had a mild crisis over the title of the fic because i am not a fan of the word brain and i didnt wanna use that sticky lyric for the title when it had a word i hated but it was objectively a much better title option than the other one i had, which was “sticky just like the song in my head” but i obviously decided on the former and it has not upset me nearly as much as i expected it to so that was the right decision imo

so! i think that’s all on that! sorry (?) that it got so long although then again i don’t know what’s to be expected in a director’s cut for two long fics but thank you for asking me about these, i love them both so very much rilex is so supremely underrated but so very important

[fmdxingxing]

i am late once again (as per usual), but hey everyone! i wanted to do something for the fourth year anniversary of famed, so… i have gained some of my favourite quotes (20 in total !) and put them in a random generator and given every muse + mun a quote! these are completely random and i hope fate has given u and ur muse(s) the right quotes! (also in the end i wrote a little thanks to famed hehe)

muses

decipher,

kim taejin, “and even though i was scared, i still did it. I’ll be stronger than myself, I won’t let myself stop be from anything”

bee,

yoon jiah, “nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘i’m possible”

knight,

park duri, “though it’s not what you’re used to, maybe it’s what you’re good at” chung gyujeong, “even the butterfly had to go through changes to be so beautiful” ashton kwon, “maybe the stairs to heaven are hidden in hell, so just wait, and it’ll be better” kitae kwon, “a ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are build for”

lipstick, 

park yoonah, “if your goal is to win, then your worry shouldn’t be to lose” na minah, “always do what you’re afraid to do” min hyeju, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it” hwang minhee, “and in the end, even if it wasn’t perfect, i was happy, so it was much more than perfect”

charm,

kuo yuchen, “if your goal is to win, then your worry shouldn’t be to lose” song jaebeom, “walk against the wind, or become the wind” kim hyunsoo, “fall seven times, get up eight times” yamamoto daisuke, “I like the night, without the dark we'd never see the stars” kim dowoon, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it” xiao yuanjun, “maybe the stairs to heaven are hidden in hell, so just wait, and it’ll be better”

wish,

hwang mirae, “write something worth reading, or do something worth writing” kwon arabella, “starting and not finishing isn’t always the worst, just starting says a lot” lee nari, “if your goal is to win, then your worry shouldn’t be to lose”

chroma,

bae inyeong, “though it’s not what you’re used to, maybe it’s what you’re good at” lee chaeyoung, “and in the end, even if it wasn’t perfect, i was happy, so it was much more than perfect” aoki akira, “maybe the stairs to heaven are hidden in hell, so just wait, and it’ll be better”

gal.actic,

cha kyunghwa, “starting and not finishing isn’t always the worst, just starting says a lot” nam yena, “faith is taking the first step even when you can’t see the whole staircase”

alien,

bang sian, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it” cho yunho, “though it’s not what you’re used to, maybe it’s what you’re good at”

mars,

ahn seungwoo, “I like the night, without the dark we'd never see the stars” im jihoon, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it”

7rophy,

kim eunah, “life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards”

unity,

park jaewon, “starting and not finishing isn’t always the worst, just starting says a lot” oon samsoo, “always do what you’re afraid to do” jaeyeol jeon, “life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards” han yul, “starting and not finishing isn’t always the worst, just starting says a lot” kang sunghee, “if your goal is to win, then your worry shouldn’t be to lose” meng guanting, “walk against the wind, or become the wind”

lucid,

ryu jaein, “why fit in, when you were born to stand out?” kim kyongmin, “faith is taking the first step even when you can’t see the whole staircase” yeo jiwon, “success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts” kim jeonghwa, “success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts” tsai suwei, “and even though i was scared, i still did it. I’ll be stronger than myself, I won’t let myself stop be from anything”

silhouette,

moon chaeyeon, “always do what you’re afraid to do”

aria,

yoo jiyoo, “I like the night, without the dark we'd never see the stars”

origin,

kang minhyuk, “starting and not finishing isn’t always the worst, just starting says a lot” nam joohwan, “always do what you’re afraid to do” han jihae, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it”

impulse,

kwon jinki, “a ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are build for”

fuse

kiana lee, “if your goal is to win, then your worry shouldn’t be to lose” amelia baek, “and even though i was scared, i still did it. I’ll be stronger than myself, I won’t let myself stop be from anything” seo minjung, “always do what you’re afraid to do” cho sooah, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it”

element,

choi joosung, “even the butterfly had to go through changes to be so beautiful” bae yujin, “if your goal is to win, then your worry shouldn’t be to lose”

femme fatale,

vive,

roh kyubok, “if your goal is to win, then your worry shouldn’t be to lose” kwon jaebeom,  “maybe the stairs to heaven are hidden in hell, so just wait, and it’ll be better” qing jingjing, “fall seven times, get up eight times” lee hansol, “nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘i’m possible” yoo rioh, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it”

muns

angel, “life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards” anna, “nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘i’m possible” anthony, “and even though i was scared, i still did it. I’ll be stronger than myself, I won’t let myself stop be from anything” beth, “if your goal is to win, then your worry shouldn’t be to lose” boone, “nothing is impossible, the word itself says ‘i’m possible” chyann, “and in the end, even if it wasn’t perfect, i was happy, so it was much more than perfect” demi, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it” em, “and in the end, even if it wasn’t perfect, i was happy, so it was much more than perfect” evelyn, “starting and not finishing isn’t always the worst, just starting says a lot” gemma, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it” hyeri, “faith is taking the first step even when you can’t see the whole staircase” jamie, “a ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are build for” joi, “why fit in, when you were born to stand out?” luna, “I like the night, without the dark we'd never see the stars” maria, “and even though i was scared, i still did it. I’ll be stronger than myself, I won’t let myself stop be from anything” max, “success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts” nica, “don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds that you plant” oli, “why fit in, when you were born to stand out?” rare, “though it’s not what you’re used to, maybe it’s what you’re good at” rina, “success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts” ruby, “the person who tells you, you can’t do it, shouldn’t be the person who then stops you from doing it” sarah, “success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts” sammi, “walk against the wind, or become the wind” shay, “faith is taking the first step even when you can’t see the whole staircase” valentine, “even the butterfly had to go through changes to be so beautiful” vi, “if your goal is to win, then your worry shouldn’t be to lose” yaz, “faith is taking the first step even when you can’t see the whole staircase”

aaah and here we go… it’s me rare going to thank u all… i actually was here a while ago, twice, but that was over a year ago and the first time two years ago… but uhhh not to get sentimental but i would rlly like to thank famed and its muns, it’s been a hard time and i couldn’t get myself to write so i actually left the krp world… however i decided to join famed (again) and magically i could write again, and it’s really been a great distraction to write so… thank you :)

[alchemic-elric]

it’s probably like picking a favorite movie or book, but what would you say has been your favorite thing you’ve gotten to write when it comes to ed, his relationships or his character? and is there a part of him you’ve gotten to explore through RP that you may never have considered before?

For Munday, anonymously ask the mun something you want to know about them, their portrayal, or what they will/won’t write.

Writing Edward has been a lot of different emotions. When I started his blog it was a way to cope with my father’s death. I’ve always been honest about that; I always will be. I just needed something else to think about so I chose to make an rp blog for my favorite character ever as a way to just have something else to focus on - instead of letting myself drown in my grief. Therapy if you will.  

I thought writing Ed would be pretty straight forward and that I knew his character well because I’ve been a fan of the series for so long and I wrote for him on other websites / yahoo messenger back in high school. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into but I never really dug deep when I wrote for him then - not like I do now - and I have found over time that I have dug deep into a lot of different things for my son from his disability to his emotions and why he feels the way he does to his near inhuman strength.  

But if I have to pick a favorite and that’s really hard, I want to say his relationships. Every muse he interacts with is a different relationship and he interacts with them all dependent on how they treat him. He’s interacted with so many different Mustang blogs over the course of the near two years he���s been here and not one of them have been the same. There are similarities yes but they are not the same - and there’s nothing wrong with that. It really enforces the notion that no two muses are the same. I think that’s beautiful. 

I think the relationships he has with OCs are really special. They are Original Characters that you guys created and poured your hearts into and Edward gets to meet them - befriend them - make family out of them or sometimes enemies. I think those relationships are so important.  I think they help expand him as a person and help to flesh him out and make him more human. Just like a real person, different muses canon or OC draw different emotions and sides of him out. He shows different parts of himself to different people. Certain characters just hold a different set of keys to his heart and it’s helped me explore him as a person. 

He has relationships that bring out his anger and he has some he’s incapable of being angry in (here’s looking at you Feli and Em’.) He has people he’s willing to cry in front of and people he would rather die than do so. He has people he will sleep in front of and some people he would spend all his energy trying to stay awake because he doesn’t trust them enough to do so. Some people get to see his fear and some people don’t. I got an anon once that was 

“ Why is Ed so prickly with some people but is super sweet to others?” 

because every relationship is different and building those relationships whether they be good or bad has been both a joy and an honor to me. I can’t thank you guys enough for that. 

[tikkisaram]

St Brigid of Kildare — The Feminist Muse

1

From their home on the summit of the snow-capped Mount Helicon, the Nine Greek Muses whispered ideas into the ears of artists everywhere, inspiring their work and infusing them with creativity. But nearer sea level, in the modest fields of Kildare, lived another great Muse — a nun who went by the name Bríd, or Brigid; and if the Nine Muses were all archetypical independent women, none could have claimed to have fought for the rights of women with the vehemence of St Brigid. This is why her influence stays strong to this day.

St Brigid has been inspiring artists to create great works for over a millennium and a half, and nowhere is her influence more noticeable than in poetry. Poets around the world have written about this feminist saint, whose achievements included building a monastery for women, freeing young girls from sexual slavery, and even performing a God-granted abortion on one of her students. She is present in the works of children's poets and Nobel laureates alike, and she invariably shows up in a context supportive of women's rights and feminist activism.

Perhaps the most famous poet to include St Brigid in their writings is Seamus Heaney, who features the abbess in two of his poems. One of these, A Brigid's Girdle, he dedicated to his friend Prof. Adele Dalsimer, who was fighting a fatal illness. In it, he decides to weave a Brigid's girdle for Adele in order to give her the strength she needs and, symbolically, to empower women everywhere to fight against oppression — be it disease or society. He invokes St Brigid for her ability to overcome any obstacle and oppose restrictive authority:

Now it's St Brigid's Day and the first snowdrop

In County Wicklow, and this a Brigid's Girdle

I'm plaiting for you, an airy fairy hoop

(Like one of those old crinolines they'd trindle)

But Heaney is hardly the only one to appreciate St Brigid's independence. Another famous Irish poet, Brendan Kennelly, offers us a provocative picture of her in his translation of a 10th century poem, Saint Brigid's Prayer. This humble nun from Kildare is actually the patron saint of beer, and in Kennelly's poem we see her — in complete disregard of society's constructed constraints — drink, dance and sing with "the men, the women and God" by a "lake of beer", giving "a special welcome to the women". Kennelly — and the anonymous 1000-year-old poet, of course — subversively shows a female saint (whose religious status entails even greater societal pressure than most women have to put up with) acting with a traditionally male rowdiness, breaking out of the confines of conservative gender roles.

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St Brigid's inspirational influence reaches far beyond the coasts of Éirinn, of course. American poet Phyllis McGinley wrote the ode The Giveaway to her, in which she calls her "a problem child" who infuriated her parents because "She would give everything away" to those in need. She shifted the established balance of power and ignored the orders of (literally) patriarchal authorities in favour of those less fortunate:

Her father's gold,

Her grandsire's dinner,

She'd hand to cold

And hungry sinner;

The Australian hymn O Holy St. Brigid written and composed by Sr Clare Keady C. S. B., on the other hand, points out that St Brigid's love of the world came not from a submissive nature, as patriarchal elements might be wont to believe, but rather from her bravery and independence — asking her to "Kindle in us an unquenchable fire/Teach us to love with your courage and confidence". St Brigid's 5th-century feminism really has conquered the world — an impressive feat for an unprivileged nun from the countryside.

While famous internationally, St Brigid's rural origin has also made her a particularly important influence on local poets. Over a century ago, Kildare writer and poet Teresa Brayton wrote the poem St. Brigid which consists largely of praise for the nun's feminism and identifies humanity — or at the very least, womanhood — with 'her race':

O Brigid, so high and holy!

So strong in womanly grace,

Look down from the sills of Heaven

Today on your olden race.

Another poet from Kildare, Patrick McCormack, published the poem Feast of St. Brigid in the newspaper Leinster Leader (during World War II, no less) in which he makes her the defender of the entire country, elevating her above the national army in a symbolic triumph of Woman over patriarchy:

Oh dear St. Brigid hear our call,

And guard our native isle,

In olden days you spread the light

Of love o’er the soil,

He also points out her superior importance relative to that of St Patrick, contrary to the common but completely unjustified inflation of his significance which can only be explained by misogyny and sexism:

The Irish race O faithful Queen,

Shall ever breathe thy name,

With Patrick’s aid Apostle true,

Our land shall rise to fame.

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The feminist Muse from Kildare lives on, inspiring poetry to this very day. Only in 2017 a children's book about St Brigid, Legendary, was published by emerging writer and poet Michael Sheils, featuring multiple poems from her perspective. One of them she addresses to the king, and in it she dismisses his masculine authority entirely, demonstrating her bravery and asserting her independence:

But you can't change my opinion,

No matter what you do,

'Cause I believe in miracles,

I believe them to be true.

The Nine Muses may have enjoyed their mountaintop vantage point, but St Brigid of Kildare has been elevated to an even holier height by her unrelenting devotion to the feminist cause, womanly strength of spirit and all-encompassing love. From her abode high in Heaven's spheres, she whispers into the ears of artists around the world. And she is not going to stop anytime soon.

Sauber, Wolfgang. Our Lady and Saint Non's chapel (St Davids, Wales); stained glass window (1934) showing Saint Bride (Brigid of Kildare). CC-BY-SA. Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Saint_Non%27s_Chapel_-_Fenster_3_St.Bride.jpg ↩︎

Culnacreann. Saint Brigid's cross, made from rushes from County Down. CC-BY. Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Saint_Brigid%27s_cross.jpg ↩︎

Sheils, Michael. Cover page of Legendary showing St Brigid with poet Dubthach maccu Lugair. CC-BY-NC-SA. http://michaelsheils.com/legendary.html ↩︎

[crashdevlin]

Bottle- 17: Goodbye Sokovia (FIN)

Bottle Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.

Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 3571

Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship,non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),

Chapter Warnings: canon-compliant violence, 

Cassie sat in a jump seat as they flew into Sokovia. Pietro stared down at her from the seat next to her. "You've really never killed anyone?"

A flash of a lab hit her brain, but she shook it off. "No. Never." The words came out with a slight accent.

"What are you called?" Pietro asked.

Cassie chuckled. "I've had many names. Vierhundert Zweiundfünfzig, Junior, Joanna, Cassie, Alex, Red Queen. 'Cassie' is my preference."

"Why do you speak with an accent when you talk to us, but not to the Avengers?" Wanda asked, from her seat on the other side of Cassie.

"Because you're in my head, I think. Because you can hear the truth of my thoughts, which are coming in more and more as German. Why do you think that is?"

"You have... hidden pieces that are starting to leak," Wanda said, staring uncomfortably into Cassie's eyes.

"I was afraid you'd say something like that."

"This is your fear. That the hidden pieces might come out. Why did you see the man in the armor?" Cassie looked away and Wanda gasped. "You made yourself see him. How?"

"He is a fear. He is a painful memory and a future fear. But he's one that I know I can deal with. I thought of him as soon as I saw your... red electric mist. I couldn't let you show me the other thing."

"You are very strong," Pietro mused. "Even I can't hold her back from my mind."

"Neither could I. I just pushed the influence a little."

"I can't do that."

"No one can. I mean, that I've met," Wanda said.

"I'm sure it's not a big deal. I just have good fortitude. Strong will of mind." Cassie looked away as she realized Clint was listening.

"It is big deal," Wanda insisted, staring at her in that uncomfortable intense way again. "You don't want-"

"Wanda," Cassie interrupted, her voice strong and clear, with no sign of the accent. "I've had people in my head. You aren't the first and you probably won't be the last, the way my life goes. If I were not able to control, even a little bit, of what my brain does in these situations, I would have gone mad instead of going to Austria."

"You had no control when you were a child. They were completely in-"

"I don't want to hear it, I don't want to know," Cassie whispered, standing. "We're about to go into a huge, deadly fight and I can't have my attention fractured."

"You're afraid it will break you, if you know," Wanda whispered.

"It would."

**********************

Steve stood near the cockpit of the jet as everyone finished their final prep before the fight. "Ultron knows we're coming. Odds are we'll be riding into heavy fire, and that's what we signed up for." He smiled slightly at Cassie. "But the people of Sokovia, they didn't. So our priority is getting them out. All they want is to live their lives in peace, and that's not going to happen today. But we can do our best to protect them. And we can get the job done, and find out what Ultron's been building. We find Romanoff, and we clear the field. Keep the fight between us. Ultron thinks we're monsters and we're what's wrong with the world. This isn't just about beating him. It's about whether he's right."

"Orders?" Clint asked.

"Pietro is our warning system. He can make it around Novi Grad to quickly to make sure those in charge get the evac started."

"I will get people started leaving. I don't how many I can reach at one time, I've never tried, but... as many as I can," Wanda offered.

"Clint, take the high ground, keep us apprised of movements around the city. Thor, you take Bruce to the fortress where Natasha is being held. Banner finds Nat, you find out what he's building. Vision, you follow Tony and burn Ultron's ties to the internet so he can't run. Cassie, until such a time as you are needed elsewhere, you work on getting people out of the city, and take down as many Ultrons as possible. Okay?"

Cassie smiled, slightly. "Well, it's nothing special, but at least you aren't trying to leave me behind this time." She tightened the holster belt around her waist and stepped toward the door. "Let's go kick some robot ass."

"Language," Steve said, with a smile.

"You want lift?" Pietro asked, picking Cassie up and running without waiting for an answer. He came to a stop and dropped her off on the other side of the bridge into Novi Grad. "Not too fast for you?"

She laughed. "Pietro... glad you're on our side now. Get to the Polizeistation."

"Good to be a good guy, huh?"

"What, you didn't see that coming, Pietro?" She smirked and ran for the far buildings.

*********************************

The robots were easy. A few well-placed bullets, a hit to the processor with a heavy baton, a knife in the same locale... one time just a well-executed kick. No, it was when the landscape started to hover higher and higher that Cassie had a problem. "How are we supposed to save the people from a flying city?!" she shouted at the Ultron closest to her, before ripping its head off.

"Do you see? The beauty of it, the inevitability. You rise, only to fall," Ultron's voice answered her from a robot clawing its way to her from underground. "You, Avengers, you are my meteor, my swift and terrible sword and the earth will crack with the weight of your failure. Purge me from your computers, turn my own flesh against me. It means nothing. When the dust settles, the only thing living in this world will be metal." Cassie stomped on its head, growling at the implication.

"I'm not a fucking meteor. Spent my whole life trying to avoid causing-" she mumble to herself, grabbing an Ultron and ripping its arm off. She bashed it into the robot's head repeatedly.

"Cap, you got incoming," Stark said, over comms.

"Incoming already came in," Steve groaned. "Stark, you worry about bringing the city back down safely. The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed, walk it off."

"Funny." Pietro was suddenly right next to her, pulling a robot to pieces. "Is Captain America always so funny?"

"Only in a fight. How you doin'?" Cassie asked, breathlessly.

"Better than you. You're bleeding."

"I'm fine. Not dead yet. How are you not bleeding?"

"Too fast to bleed. None of them can see me coming."

Cassie laughed. "Okay. Sounds good. I'm going to the bridge. Sounds like they need a bit of help there. Find Wanda, meet me there?"

Pietro gave a small salute and disappeared. A few moments later, Barton came over the comms. "All right. We're all clear here."

"We are not clear!" Steve responded. "We are very not clear!"

"All right. Coming to you."

"I'm halfway there!" Cassie said, picking up her pace. Cassie jumped onto the back of an Ultron and plunged her knife into its processor as Natasha and Steve destroyed several over by the bridge. "Welcome to the fight, Natalia. How was your downtime?"

"Cramped and cold. Just like I like it," Nat answered, smirking a little as they finished off the last Ultron in their area.

"The next wave's gonna hit any minute. What have you got, Stark?" Steve asked, stalking through the city.

"Well, nothing great. Maybe a way to blow up the city. That'll keep it from impacting the surface. If you guys can get clear," Stark came over their earpieces.

"I asked for a solution, not an escape plan."

"Impact radius is getting bigger every second. We're going to have to make a choice."

"Cap, these people are going nowhere. If Stark finds a way to blow this rock..." Natasha started as the three of them looked out at the clouds, creating a thick fog.

"Not 'til everyone's safe," Steve insisted.

"Everyone up here versus everyone down there?" Natasha pushed. "There's no math there."

"I hate to agree, but this is thousands versus billions. Literally," Cassie whispered.

"I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it."

"I didn't say we should leave." Steve took a deep breath as he turned to Romanoff, who just nodded to confirm she was saying what he thought she was. "There's worse ways to go. Where else am I gonna get a view like this?"

"Glad you like the view, Romanoff. It's about to get better," Nick Fury's voice came through their comms. Cassie laughed, excitedly, as a helicarrier broke through the clouds. "Nice, right? I pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She's dusty, but she'll do."

"Fury, you son of a bitch," Steve said, with a smile.

"Ooh! You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Not since the ‘40s, he doesn't," Cassie wrapped her arms around Nat and Steve and jumped down, excitedly, as Pietro showed up in front of them.

"This is SHIELD?"

"This is what SHIELD's supposed to be," Steve answered.

"This is not so bad."

"Let's load 'em up," Steve said, rushing to grab Sokovian citizens.

"You know, this might not end horribly, after all," Pietro said, to Cassie as she rushed for a building full of people.

"Don't say things like that. As soon as you start being optimistic, things go bad."

"Oh, what can go bad now?" Pietro asked, before disappearing.

"So much," Ultron said, dropping down behind Cassie, grabbing her and flying away. He dropped her on top of a building and examined her. "You're the Hydra one, right?"

"I'm not-"

"Made by Hydra in 1989. Trained by that horrid Strucker character. Honestly, anyone who wanted to know about the Avengers need only look to you, their latest recruit. The wolf in sheep's linen."

"What? What are you- you're making less sense than usual."

"You really think you're a righteous woman? How sad for you. You're more tangled in their strings than I ever was. Assuming you make it to that battlecarrier, ask your friend Fury about Operation Playtime Distortion. I think it'll change your life," Ultron said, before flying away, leaving her on the top of the building.

"Playtime dis- what?" she mumbled to herself as she grabbed an electric cable and used it to abseil down the building.

"Thor, I got a plan!" Stark said when she was about halfway down the building.

"We're out of time. They're coming for the core," Thor responded.

"Rhodey, get the rest of the people on board that carrier."

"On it."

"Avengers, time to work for a living."

"Screw you, Stark. Your suit and your computer do all your work," Cassie said as she got to the bottom of the building and started running for the church.

"I'll buy you a drink when we get out of this," Stark said. "Romanoff? You and Banner better not be playing hide the zucchini."

"Relax, Shell-head. Not all of us can fly."

"Thank you, Nat!" Cassie said, running up to the church as Natasha crashed a truck into the fence around the perimeter.

"What's the drill?" Natasha asked.

"This is the drill. If Ultron gets a hand on the core, we lose."

Hulk jumped into the church as Ultron flew closer. "Is that the best you can do?!" Thor shouted. Ultron just lifted his left hand and a swarm of silver entered their vision.

"You had to ask." Steve said, sarcastically.

"This is the best I can do," Ultron answered.

"If they're all here, then they aren't there, so... let's do this," Cassie whispered.

"This is exactly what I wanted. All of you against all of me. How could you possibly hope to stop me?"

"Well, like the old man said. Together," Tony said, looking toward Steve.

Hulk shouted, sending a chill down Cassie's spine that readied her for the fight, as Ultrons ran and flew at them, full force. She pulled her knife with her right hand and a baton with her left and went to work, feeling alive and right as she rained destruction upon Ultron. 'Ask about Operation Playtime Distortion', rang through her mind over and over as she stomped and beat and stabbed the robots. As the primary Ultron was lasered down in the ruined churchyard, Cassie beat another one's head into the rubble. Clint put his hand on her shoulder and she had to stop herself from crushing it.

"They'll try to leave the city," she heard Thor say, so she stood.

"We can't let 'em, not even one. Rhodey!"

"We gotta move out. Even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats, I'll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you," Steve said.

"What about the core?" Clint asked as Cassie watched the last few Ultrons being destroyed by Vision and War Machine.

"I'll protect it," Wanda volunteered. Clint turned to her in surprise. "It's my job."

Clint nodded and started out. "Nat. Cass. This way."

"You have a silent thing with the Maximoff chick?" Cassie asked as they ran.

"You have a thing with her brother? Pickin' you up and runnin' off with you."

"He's nice. Fell in with the wrong crowd. I can relate," Cassie said, running ahead of them.

"Cass- I'm gonna hotwire-" Clint shrugged as she disappeared from view and wrenched open the door of a two-seater convertible. "Only enough room for the two of us, anyway," he said to Natasha.

She was already on the helicarrier when the city fell and she watched in horror as it disintegrated just a few moments later. When she greeted the last lifeboat, she was dismayed to see Wanda crying over Pietro's body. "He saved my life," Clint whispered.

Cassie turned into his arms and cried for a few minutes, before pulling away. "What about... Tony? Thor? Everyone else."

Clint just nodded, prompting her to break down further. Clint helped her down to the bridge, where Fury stood staring at the hole that used to be Novi Grad, Sokovia. "This is the best we could have hoped for, Campbell," Fury said, turning and walking up to her as Clint disappeared from her side.

"I know. I know. This is just... we saved as many as we could but... Pietro died... it's just..."

"You thinking of getting out of the superhero game?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. I just... this isn't, at all, how I pictured my life five years ago. When Phil told me that you okayed my release, I... expected to get my Bachelor's and spend the rest of my life in a lab. This... death, carnage... so much destruction."

"If it weren't for Phil, you'd've been in the Fridge when Hydra took it. I wasn't planning to let you out."

Cassie turned to him, swallowing. "You put me in a cell. I've always wondered why. Surely there were better places to put me. Back then, I was just a normal, non-super, child. You could've found a home for me, but you put me in a cell like a criminal." She wouldn't ask. Operation Playtime Distortion wasn't something she wanted to know, she was sure of it.

"Clint mentioned that you might be remembering things. Are you entirely certain you want to be askin' questions, Cassie?"

"You put me in a cell because I did something to deserve it, didn't I?"

"You don't want that answer, Cassie. If I were you, I'd do anything in my power to keep those memories under lock and key."

"Thank you, sir," she said, before turning and walking away.

********************

"We going for shawarma, this time?" Natasha asked, as they approached a Quinjet set to fly them back to New York.

"What?" Cassie asked, looking over at her.

"After the whole thing with Loki and the Chitauris, we went out and Tony bought us shawarma. It was good," Clint said, putting his arm around Cassie's shoulders.

She turned her head slightly. "Clint, can I talk to you?"

"Course. Hey, Tasha, get the jet started. We'll be in in a minute," Clint called, before leading Cassie away from the jet. "What's wrong?"

"When we get back to New York... I'm not going to stay."

"Wha-what do you mean?"

"I'm not quitting or-or running away, this time, but... I need some time to... find myself again. This whole event, it just showed me that... I started running long before Austria. The last few years, I've been running. I ran from telling Phil about Faye, I ran from telling anybody about what Loki did to me. I dropped everything on that one. Stopped going to school, just drinking and working and getting as little sleep as I could survive on, which is very little when you're a superhuman." She looked down at her hands, the dirt and blood caked under her fingernails. "Clint, I don't want to run any more. I want to try for a... a new normal. I want to go back to school, finish my Bachelor's degree. I want to... work in one of Tony's labs again and sleep without fear for a while."

"And you need... space for that?"

"No. I would want you to come with me, or visit me between missions or something."

"I've been considering retirement. I mean, Laura's about to have another baby and she might need some help around the farm. You willing to live-"

"On the farm? Hell, no," she said, with a smile. "But if you live at the farm, I'll visit... as often as I can."

"And where would you be living? Where would you want to start this new normal?" Clint asked, taking her hand and walking back toward the jet.

"I don't know. I haven't had time to think about it. Maybe, West Coast again. Washington, Oregon, maybe," Cassie said, as she walked up the ramp to sit in one of the jump seats.

"What's on the West Coast?" Steve asked.

"She's got to talk to you, Boss," Clint said, pulling Cassie out of the seat pushing her toward Steve and replacing her in the chair.

Cassie looked down, then up into Steve's eyes. "I want to go back to school. Life's short... unless you get frozen for 70 years. I... haven't accomplished any of the things I set out to do when I got released from the Fridge and I just... want to finish something."

"On the West Coast? There aren't any schools in New York?"

"I... I just feel like there might be too many distractions if I stay in New York."

"Distractions. Okay. Will you be coming back after you get your degree?" Steve asked.

"Of course. I love being an Avenger. I love the team, but I have to take this break. I promise it won't be long. I'm only 12 credits from my Bachelor's and then, I can come back."

"You're gonna need a job while you're playing student." Tony walked up. "I've got a small R&D lab in Olympia. You wouldn't be interested in running it, would you?"

"What?"

"Yeah, guy I had on it before had to transfer, or something believable, like that. I don't, actually, have a lab in Olympia, but I could by next week. We doin' this?"

Cassie scoffed in surprise. "People are going to complain about favoritism, Tony."

"Who? To who? Not to me, and Pepper loves you. Besides, who better to head up my experimental R&D division than an exper-"

Cassie put her hand up. "Don't finish that sentence. This is... amazing, thank you." She stepped toward him. "I'm gonna hug you."

"Don't do that. Oh, y-you don't listen." Tony put his hands up as Cassie wrapped her arms around him. "Maybe I shouldn't put you in charge, if you can't follow instructions."

"Shut up, Tony. Don't ruin it," she said, squeezing him before pulling back and looking around the jet.

"You'll come back, though?" Steve asked, again.

"Definitely," she said, with a smile.

"Might be a good time to mention that I, uh, am gonna be heading out, too. Need some family time after what just happened," Clint piped up.

"Nobody saw that coming, did they?" Tony quipped, heading toward the cockpit.

"We won't even be in the same state, Stark. Shut up," Clint said as Cassie looked away from Steve.

"Are you and Clint-" Steve whispered.

"This isn't a conversation for-" Cassie started.

"Yes. Since the party, Steve," Natasha called from the cockpit

"It's no one's business!" Clint shouted, his hand going over his face.

"You're not wrong, Barton. I'd rather not hear about it, honestly," Stark answered.

"I thought you weren't... dating?" Steve whispered.

"I wasn't... but... life is short. Too short. I realized that after Ultron attacked... I'm sorry."

"I really... have poor timing with women," Steve said, walking away.

Cassie flopped down next to Clint. "I feel like we just kicked someone's grandpa," Clint said, under his breath.

Cassie giggled and hit him on the shoulder. "Stop it. That's... not funny."

"Yeah, it is. Come on. He's a hundred."

"And? Mind and body of a thirty year old. You?"

"That's low, Queenie. I expected better from you," Clint smirked, though.

"I've never claimed to be a nice person."

"Oh, but you are."

"Says you," she whispered, leaning her head back against the metal of the jet.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS

@heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108

[aion-rsa]

Bruce Campbell and 40 Years of Building The Evil Dead Myth

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article is presented by:

When The Evil Dead returns to theaters nationwide on Oct. 7 as an exclusive one-night only Fathom event, complete with a Bruce Campbell introduction, it will be almost 40 years to the day since the film premiered at Detroit’s Redford Theatre, an ancient movie palace that even now maintains a classic theater organ in the back. During that 1981 debut, the movie was still titled “The Book of the Dead,” and Sam Raimi was renting ambulances to place outside the cinema in order to set a mood. There was a line out the door. Few might’ve guessed from such inauspicious beginnings that they’d be launching a horror classic. But four decades later, it’s still here.

The Evil Dead’s persistence at creating new fans year after year, and generation after generation, is a testament to its eagerness to be the “ultimate experience in grueling terror.” Because for a moment there, even years, this quintessential cabin in the woods movie appeared to be an outlier—a truly independent affair in which a handful of school chums stumbled around in the Tennessee wilderness and then struggled to get the movie seen by audiences. One of its financiers was allegedly horrified by its tone during that Michigan premiere; several British courts found it obscene, leading to a prolonged legal battle over censorship in the UK; and the film even only received major distribution at all because Stephen King wrote a glowing review in 1982 after seeing it at Cannes.

There’s enough mythology around how The Evil Dead was made and released to fill the pages of the Necronomicon. Twice. But year by year, story by story, that self-perpetuating legend has grown until it developed one of the greatest legacies in horror—until it became a genuine classic. Perhaps that’s why when we sit down to chat with Campbell ahead of the film’s Fathom re-release, he can’t help but laugh at some of the more embellished stories about its genesis. After all, Raimi, producer Rob Tapert, and Campbell, by his own admission, have had an intentional hand in nurturing many of the tall tales surrounding the movie.

“Sam and I encouraged a lie for years about the last shot in the movie,” Campbell says with a chuckle over the phone. He’s referring to the famous shot near the end of the picture where the unseen evil entity in the woods—or “the Force” as Raimi used to call it back then—smashes through the doors of the cabin and comes riding headlong into Campbell’s ample chin.

Says Campbell, “We had a whole story about Sam riding a motorcycle in order to smash through the doors. We said we did it last because I was probably going to get hurt, because in order to get the camera close enough, the motorcycle pretty much had to make contact [with me]. So we sort of perpetuated that lie, very successfully, for decades.”

It’s an impressive overstatement, even if the actual truth of the shot is pretty nifty on its own: Raimi came running through the doors, which were pulled away by ropes off-screen, while the director held above his head an Arriflex camera with a wide-angle lens bolted to a board. The low-fi elements of it are refreshingly cool, even more so now. Still, a motorcycle, it ain’t.

“The great comedian W.C. Fields wrote all his own press releases, and he lied in all of ‘em,” Campbell muses. “So we enjoyed doing that sort of stuff and adding to the myth.”

It’s this type of showmanship that comes naturally to Campbell, as well as Raimi and Tapert—all of whom were executive producers on The Evil Dead. They demonstrated it early when they were able to actually get the financing to make the film back in the late ‘70s after dropping out of college, and they did it again when they succeeded at making a horror spectacle so extreme, and so genuinely innovative, that we’re still talking about it. Campbell even fondly recalls how they all bought suits from thrift stores and then went around Detroit trying to pitch the movie for investors to local businessmen and dentists.

“We bought briefcases,” says Campbell. “Rob and Sam had a slimmer briefcase, and I had a thicker one because I carried a lot of the paperwork and checkbooks, and stuff like that. But we did carry briefcases because we thought that’s what investors would want to see. And we wore suits and ties, because Detroit businessmen in the ‘70s wore suits and ties.”

It was all to add an air of legitimacy to fresh faced twentysomethings who were asking for money to make a debut film in a genre that many investors couldn’t even stomach watching. According to Campbell, one man even had his associates view Raimi’s proof of concept short film, “Within the Woods,” while he stood outside. It’s worth remembering this was at a time when, as Campbell puts it, “horror was one rung above porno.”

Still, looking back at this early bid for youthful professionalism, Campbell can point to plenty of hardships that never needed any hyperbole.

During our conversation, the actor recites with a matter of fact exhaustion all the basic amenities that should be on any film set, yet were totally absent during the making of The Evil Dead. It’s as if even their memory is wearying. For one thing, there were no bathrooms at the real-life cabin; not to mention the actual nightmare that came from having no heat during the middle of an Appalachian winter; they instead relied on a portable kerosene heater for the whole production. There was also no running water and thus no way  to bathe; safety precautions were non-existent, and then there was that one time a bull came running across a field at Raimi and all the production could do was watch. Even the “craft services’” would deliver doughy cake and tell Campbell it was pizza. He didn’t buy that either.

“Almost every crew member or actor got hurt in some way,” Campbell estimates. His own injury came after a tough shoot one night in the cemetery. After running down the hill and jumping, Campbell broke his ankle. As he recalls now, “We had to keep shooting the rest of the night, with Sam and Rob Tapert cornering me in a room, poking my ankle with sticks because they thought it was funny.” He later adds, “I’ll always favor that ankle lovingly, because I know it came from Sam.”

Be that as it may, Campbell looks back on the whole experience with as much nostalgia as shudders.

“It’s both, because I don’t really remember how horrible it was,” Campbell says. “My memory doesn’t really work that way. My memory tends to gloss over stuff. So yeah, no question it was uncomfortable, but we had nothing to compare it to. So it wasn’t until later that we figured out how bad it was, and by that point, it’s over. So what’s the difference?”

How ever he considers that time in the woods now, it certainly paid off. With its extreme use of gore, grandiose camera movements, and filmmaking flair, The Evil Dead remains a singular experience—one might even say grueling. It paved the way for sequels like Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness, plus the much later television series Ash vs Evil Dead. And for Campbell there’s something particularly provocative and enduring about that first effort.

“Sam’s a good filmmaker, and he’s got sequences in there that are very visually impressive,” Campbell says. “So he sort of drew them in, stylistically. But it’s also sort of docu-horror, the way we actually shot it in a real cabin in the middle of nowhere. You can kind of tell, so it seeps into the movie.”

When looking at how The Evil Dead was made versus Campbell’s Starz TV series, the actor points out what a difference professional expertise makes, as well as how it can change the visceral grime and dirt under the fingernails that audiences can intuitively feel while watching such a movie.

“In the first Evil Dead, Ash hears a noise by a window, he sees a shadow, he turns with the shotgun, and he blows the window out,” says Campbell. “Well, in 1979 in rural Tennessee, you just take a shotgun and you blow the window out. There’s no stunt guy. There’s no nothing…. And then by the time you get to Ash vs Evil Dead, I’d raise the shotgun and a guy on set would go, ‘Ready and bang!’ When he says, ‘Bang,’ I’d jerk the gun, and a guy on set hits me with an interactive light for the flash. And they put a digital flash in that’s any length you want, any color we want, and a big smoke plume and a Howitzer cannon sound effect.”

Campbell admits it’s safer, but it loses that handcrafted quality which makes The Evil Dead still both so creepy and, depending on the audience, amusing. When asked if he misses those old ways, Campbell concedes, “I only miss it a little bit, because there was a lot of dumb stuff done on movie sets back in the day that should not have been done. We skirted around safety stuff, and film sets are much safer now. So I’ll take now for the sake of safety, but the funny thing is we just didn’t know any other way.”

It’s safe to say that they wouldn’t make The Evil Dead today like they did back then, but then that’s the original’s charm, and the root of the stories we tell about it. Even when compared to the sequels and spinoffs where Raimi’s camera rigs got more elaborate, and Campbell’s acting got better with each sharpened wisecrack, there is nothing as chilling as seeing actors genuinely freezing on a winter night.

By the time of Army of Darkness and Ash vs Evil Dead, Campbell was able to really develop the character of Ashley Williams, and his own acting talents, turning the protagonist into what Campbell estimates is the archetypal “ugly American.” One might wonder then if the performer has more satisfaction from the later projects—he does tell us the Starz TV show was his chance to be like George Lucas and go back and “fix all those shitty effects.” If so, Campbell keeps such thoughts to himself while speaking with pride on what the first Evil Dead did for his career and the horror genre.

“You don’t always want to be known for the [character you played] when you had the least experience,” Campbell considers. “So you’re always going to have the echo of Ash wherever I go, which is fine. But I’m glad that people are still finding it relevant all these years later. You can’t ever look down on it, because it got me into the film business. So mostly, I’m just grateful.”

Fathom Events will present The Evil Dead 40th Anniversary with Bruce Campbell at theaters across the U.S. on Thursday, Oct. 7. Get your tickets now at www.FathomEvents.com

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[seventhfracture]

14, 15, 16, 17

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?I do! I find songs that jive with what I’m writing. First its songs that sync up with the overarching theme or mood or inspiration and then scene by scene I tend to find songs that gel with what I’m working on. If I get stuck I tend to listen to music and pace until I... I dunno? It just sometimes unblocks my head if I can try setting things to music. Making them work to rhythm, a natural build and pay off, is really helpful. Sometimes songs even inspire scenes without me trying. Like tonight I was listening to something, really digging it, and it snapped into place with one of my WIPs and I wrote a really cool scene based around it to slot in later.  

15) why did you start writing?I was like eight? I saw something (Disney’s 1934 “The Goddess of Spring”) and I just could not stop thinking about it and how it made me feel. I couldn’t really explain that stuff so I tried writing the story down and that helped. Ever since then it’s just become part of my routine; I write stuff. If I don’t I get jittery and its awful and I just don’t feel right. I don’t make any promises that I always write golden gems but I always write. 

16) are there any characters who haunt you?There are probably three?R- I developed when I was young and repressed and confused and I worked through a lot of trauma by just putting this character through shit. I think it helped because at least if I was writing it I was in control of these awful, awful, things. You know?H/7th- developed H in my early 20s as a sort of experiment which was; “I want to take this minor fanon character and like... Make them into something huge and awful and unexpected and meaningful.” And I had loads of fun making this throwaway concept a major villain in my story with sass and sleaze and eventually it inspired my RP muse Seventh because, after I finished the story, I just wanted to keep writing him somehow. So I found a way. Seventh was good and bad and great and awful for me. I met wonderful people like you though so I figure it was worth it.

Z- has been brewing since I was about 16. He started, again, as a kind of expression of trauma. A kind of ‘if you can’t beat em become the bad guy’ scenario. And he spawned this whole Redwall-esque series/world across the last ten years. I’ve been struggling to put him onto paper outside RPs with my partner but it gets easier as time goes on and the hard work is worth it.

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?1. Don’t worry so much2. I heard someone say once “your work is both good and original. Unfortunately what is original is not good and what is good is not original.” and to that person I would say; fuck you. For multiple reason. 

[lostsoulwolf]

A gift for @thebananafrappe

This is a little drabble thing I just finished writing to sort of get my feet wet in this kind of style. The set-up is of a self-insert (with more specific details thrown in for @thebananafrappe‘s description since it’s for them mostly but feel free to mentally alter it) taking care of the illustrious Banana Cabana, a brothel that is home to nearly, if not all, of the skeleton brothers from every AU imaginable. But, while everyone else has their fun, what of the owner and gracious hostess?

The loud click of the deadbolt echoed in the now settled building, the workers put to their chambers for a well-earned rest after a buy day of entertaining the patrons. It was a difficult business and not many were well-equipped to handle it, but that never made you shy away from making others happy.

Besides, it paid well and kept the hunger for contact satiated for your clients.

Tucking a troublesome curl behind your ear, you pivoted to head back to the office and count to today’s profits. It wasn’t the most glamorous part of the job but it had to be done. As you walked the hall quietly, not wanting to disturb the rest of the skeletons under your care, you flicked the key into the knob and entered to close the door quietly with the money box awaiting on your desk.

As the hours passed, eyes burning behind your rectangular glasses that kept sliding down the bridge of your nose from leaning too far forward as you wrote, you leaned back in silent victory. Just finished, thank the stars.

“Even after paying them, it still turned out to be a good day. Not as good as last Thursday but I don’t think anything will top that… What made them so clingy on a Thursday of all days?” you mused, snorting at the absurdity of blaming it on a full moon. Even after working with the more beastial males, it still sounded far-fetched.

Closing the box and locking it away in the safe beneath the medium-sized wood desk at the head of your office, you took off your glasses to massage your temples. A small headache had been forming ever since someone decided to ask twice about having their way with every single one of them at once.

You couldn’t help but wonder if they had a death wish and figured death by sex was the better alternative. While the thought was morbid, and you rightfully declined the idea, a bit of fun did sound nice. Watching everyone else have their way and time with the boys was both rewarding… and making you all the more susceptible to jealousy.

Especially when there was one in particular that seemed incredibly popular.

Not that anyone, or yourself, could blame them.

They always say that the best version of something is the original and with Sans, that was no different. He treated his patrons with the utmost care, tailoring his approach to suit their desires and his own with expert precision. It was almost laughable when someone would be surprised at how easily he could turn from kind and body-worshiping to domineering and provocative. His soothing low baritone was always a nice bonus and to hear him murmur sweet words of praise and admiration right into the ear of a lonesome soul, it was enough to make a girl’s heart melt.

It wasn’t until your mind started wandering into the slightly more private territory did you realize your wandering hand on your lap, flinching it away with a deep-red flush on your cheeks. One could even make the observation that your hair came straight from your face given how they matched in rich color.

Swallowing down your racing heart, you stood from your chair shakily and snatched up your glasses.

“you okay, boss?”

The voice startled you, wide green eyes darting to the door to see one of the skeletons casually leaned against the door with his hands stuffed into his large blue jacket.

Trying to pull yourself together with a nod, tugging at the bottom hem of your “I make jokes periodically” t-shirt, you gazed right at him. “Yes, I’m fine. Shouldn’t you be in bed, Comic? Aren’t you tired?”

His lazy shrug spoke just how tired he was but his tone was as laid-back as ever. “nah. can’t sleep with Pap snorin’ up a storm, ya know?”

“Right. I’ll figure something out.”

“don’t sweat it. heh, i’m used to it anyway.” His bright white eyelights slanted over to you, appraising your awkward shift of weight in the silence. “listen, if you wanna stop this, ya can. no one would stop ya.”

The change in topic was both welcome yet jarring. “What?”

“this can’t make ya happy, not all the way like what your searching for.” Crossing the room to sit down in one of the chairs that faced your desk, he sighed. “we appreciate what you’re doing, givin’ us a chance to interact with our admirers and show ‘em a good time… but you’re not really gettin’ much outta this.”

A frown, scratching your forearm. “I am, though. Making other people happy? That’s how I’m happy.” You turn on the easy-going smile you were so used to putting on. “To see the smiles on their faces to see you guys are free for a bit of fun; that’s all the reward I need. Don’t get me wrong, the G is nice too but it’s their satisfaction and moment of bliss that does it for me.”

Sans studied your expression for a moment, perma-grin tight as the silence stretched between you two.

“i don’t like it when people lie to me, boss.”

Before it could be really processed, he had you pinned to the left-hand wall of your office; your back prodded by picture frames of each skeleton who resided at the Banana Lounge, his ribs pressing against your sensitive chest. You could almost swear that his soulbeat was felt through the fabric between you. With your hands clasped together by one of his own above your head, you were completely at his mercy as his left iris sparked with cyan magic.

You quaked in his grasp, caged like a pet bird, and while your fight-or-flight instinct wanted you to run… you didn’t really have much of anywhere to go. Well, not that his teleporting would let you get far, besides.

His free hand raked against your waist, bringing you out of your own mind and back to him.

“why would you lie to me? i thought we were close friends and all.” he purred softly, head bowed into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

You could faintly hear his breathing hitch as his teeth parted, allowing a glowing tongue to slither out and lap at the flushed skin.

“so, let’s try this again, hm? what would actually make you happy~?” His low, almost predatory, tone made shivers run down to your core.

All this time, you had watched someone else have their fun with him, wishing it were you but now? It was apparently your turn.

[gingerly-writing]

Hello? I'm currently trying to write a superhero novel and I'm extremely bad at it. Can you help me, like just give a few tips? I'm really excited about this project so your help would be greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance!

Hello dear Anon! You have definitely come to the write (hehe) place. I have so much advice (and hard lessons learnt) to share that I almost burst with information when I saw this ask in my inbox. I’ve tried to trim it down a bit so I don’t clog up people’s dashes, but this is still gonna be pretty long. (Also, this is my 4,500 post on this blog, quite coincidentally, and I also just passed 700 followers. Consider this advice post my celebration!)

This is a novel, not a comic book series.

You won’t be able to convey every awesome aspect of your characters’ looks without boring the reader to death.

Some tropes don’t translate well. At all.

Nothing is wholly original, not anymore. But you can still come up with something you can comfortably call your own.

Action scenes will either become your trusty sidekick or your archnemesis (and each one can turn out to be either).

LESS. IS. MORE.

1) This is a novel, not a comic book series. Even if you write a whole series of novels, you don’t have the page space to waste on the tens or hundreds of smaller villains you might find littered across a Batman series. First of all, everyone your hero encounters has to be fleshed out at least somewhat, and that takes up both space on the page and in your reader’s mind as they try to keep track of everyone you’ve introduced. If you need to make your hero seem as though they’ve been around for a while and save a lot of lives on the regular, have them namedrop villains they’ve defeated or muse about just how many civilians they must have saved over the years and how that makes it all worth it.

What I’m saying is, you need a coherent plot. Obviously the journey from A to B needs ups and downs, but those probably shouldn’t consist of 18 minor villains with the Big Bad at the end unless all the attacks turn out to be related. Keep your plot tidy, and remember, this is a novel. For the first book at least, you might be better off sticking with one supervillain/group as your major antagonist, with subplots constructed from other, less major conflicts (tension with law enforcement, other heroes, collapsing marriage, love interest, high school issues etc. etc.). In my first attempt at a superhero novel, I had my hero (Ace) fighting gangs and cleaning up the streets, saving kids from their own stupidity, dealing with a new addictive and highly highly dangerous drug pouring into his city, trying to uncover who or what the Crime Syndicate was, fending off the police who were trying to arrest him, and a bunch of civilian life problems too, including his mother and best friend trying to work out what he was hiding, passing university and finding a job, all on top of tracking down and fighting his newfound nemesis. This is a slightly exaggerated list, but you can see what I’m talking about. Too much going on can kill your coherency, even if it’s the kind of winding plot you’re used to seeing on comics.

My tip here: pick one main villain, or gang, or anti-hero etc. –pick only one major villainous entity. Stack in one to three sideplots. Make sure everything is coherent and leads your hero from A to B, whether they know it or not. It might be a superhero novel, but it’s a novel above all. Stick to your basic plotting rules, and you’ll be a-okay.

2) You won’t be able to get down every aspect of your character’s awesome outfit. This is another rule applicable to everything, but it’s especially hard to resists in a genre where a hero’s public image is often built from their outfit and powers as much as what they stand for. But imagine if you had to read a block paragraph description of Batman’s outfit? He wears all-black, with a cowl covering the top half of his face that has pointy bat ears which electrocutes you if you try to take it off. He also wears eyeliner to cover the skin around his eyes. He never smiles, and his voice is a deep growl. His chest plate is black and decorated with false abs and a bat-symbol, which is yellow or black depending on whether he’s in camouflage- YAWN! I’m bored just typing all that out.

Pick defining characteristics for all of them. My villainess has candyfloss pink hair, a slow smile and a dappled black outfit fit for a thief. My hero is half-Japanese, wielding a glowing blue sword (which might become a shield in the edits) and donning his heirloom hero suit of black and matching glowing blue. It’s not a lot, and I drop in other details here and there (she carries smoke bombs and knives in her boots, he can’t wink), but sticking to core, important details when describing their outfits in particular can give a pretty clear idea without choking the reader.

3) Some tropes don’t translate well. At all. Put aside the rampant racism, the homophobia, the general mistreatment of many minorities in the comic industry. Put aside the America-centrism and the fridging of ‘pure’ girlfriends and the slutty villainess alike. These are all problems, but they also exist outside of the superhero genre.

Here, I’m talking space radiation giving people powers, killing their loved ones, serving the plot in any which way. I’m talking Superman’s 800 superpowers and Luthor’s inability to figure out his secret ID despite being the smartest man on the planet. I’m talking fallacies of logic, stretching the suspension of disbelief far past breaking point, Gary Stus galore. I’m talking Guy Gardener’s bowlcut. Y’know, just generally bad writing.

You’re going to have to come up with more original power-origins and better haircuts than they did in the Golden Age, I’m afraid. While I genuinely wish I could get in the invisible brainwave-controlled escape boomerangs from Captain Boomerang in the Silver Age, it doesn’t work so well in a pseudo-serious novel. But work a little harder at your worldbuilding than the golden oldies had to, and you’ll have everything down pat.

4) Nothing is wholly original, not anymore. But you can still come up with something you can comfortably call your own. This is linked to point three. Everything has been done. Every superpower, every storyline, every outfit, magic item, warping of genes. You name it, someone, somewhere, whether inside or outside the big comic houses, has done it. This is common with all ideas, but with superheroes you know some all-knowing jackass will pop out of the woodwork like ‘actually this was the plot of Assman #236 in 1987 and your just a hack’ if you ever publish your work.

Fuck ‘em. You might not be able to create something wholly original, but you can create something with a twist. From your superpowers and gadgets, to your plotlines and your worldbuilding, to your hero leagues and villain cadres and your mob squads –you can create something fresh, something we’ve never seen before, something that will open mouths and eyes and hearts. Everything can be original if you take it and play.

5) Action scenes will either become your trusty sidekick or your archnemesis (and each one can turn out to be either). Some will flow from your pen (or keyboard) as though the Muses themselves are scribing your words with golden ink. Other times, you will want to strangle every one of your characters, and throw their weapons, your writing implements and yourself out of the window. The real problem is that action scenes tend to be crucial to this genre, and you never know which fight scene is going to bite you in the ass.

It’s okay if you’re terrible at them (like me). Sketch what you need out of the scene in terms of plot, and then research to your heart’s content (while remembering this is a genre built on ridiculousness and you can stretch reality as far as you need). Then, as with wit, remember you don’t have to be an expert fighter. Unlike your characters, you can write and rewrite and play and mess with until everything is exactly how you want it.

LESS. IS. MORE. I think this is the sum total of my advice, though bear in mind that I’m a massive overwriter: if you underwrite, you might need to flip some of this advice on its head. In my experience, keep your original plot tight, because it will expand with heroic shenanigans and villainous sideplots. Keep your initial character description to key characteristics, and build in the cool, extraneous details over time. Watch out for some of the good old tropes (and not just the bigoted ones) that simply don’t translate well into a modern novel. Play with your assumptions, your tropes and anything else you can get your hands on, but don’t be too afraid to hang onto some of the old classics: this is a genre known for its fun tropes, after all.

If you need any more general writing advice, feel free to come back! You are talking to someone who wrote 60,000+ words of my core superhero novel and scrapped every single one of them, who’s plotted out seven superhero novels and counting, and who may or may not be far too in love with this genre.

But over everything else, remember to take all advice -including and especially mine- with a large pinch of salt. Come talk to me off anon if you just want to chat about superheroes, I don’t bite (and I really, really love superheroes).

Thanks for the ask!xx

[dwestfieldblog]

23 YEARS IN BOHEMIA

Time to exorcise some sober early morning paragraphs as Orpheus descends again...Saved by an angelic intervention perhaps, or more likely, demonic. I messed up a banishing ritual and we will never have that feast...Air gives life toFire. Crash and burn. Hard to switch off the heart unless one is in hospital. An hour long session of Healing, lying on a floor blindfolded last week uncovered deep memories with primal fury, tears and a revelation...now I am back in the cosmic game. It was either that or leave my body to medical science fiction. Insanity chosen on the flip of a golden coin, now gold runs in my veins like electricity. Almost not a metaphor.

The Healing had the strange effect (for me) of leaving my thoughts seemingly capable of holding onto negative thinking for two seconds only and then letting them go. Nice work, see how long it lasts. Next month I will be getting creative with my darkness with Holotropic breathing to unblock the shadow, Sounds like fun eh?  Welcome to another long speed written manic collage....

9 songs into the next treble cd, but now the blessing of the Muse is removed. Some girls should be spanked hard with passion every night before bed. All hail Algolagnia, No afterglow, now only ash. I swear by my heart Not to fall in Love again, it is no good for my mental health. Arf. Fnord. Shameful how much I truly cared, but Free at last, freedom from hope, Lucifer rising in my horoscope and all I have left are empty words. Words for spells...thank the Lord for spellczechers on the computer. Somewhere True, we know our fears are not real.

Putting the arse into catharsis, I have finally put more songs on the net via TUMBLR, (27 of 'em) a fair variety of moods...of course I will not be putting the best stuff online, not until the diagnosis becomes terminal. Don't much trust doctors but will believe my body. The war for peace continues. From the Kingdom to the Crown

I seem to have not really slept much since early February, but some years life just gets too INTERESTING to sleep. Enervated, splitting and colliding like the atom I used to be. Desire to Do and Be simultaneously chasing a thought and a feeling. Home-made psychedelic adrenalin, recurring parallel day dreams or else the synaesthesia kicking in once more....Lying down for thirty minutes and switching off at 2pm helps. In reverie God told me again last night I was a chosen one...well, someone has to do it. Another scarecrow messiah crucified on a hill to keep away the crows of false prophets who seek to feed on the seed of Man. Or something. O, I still miss amphetamines, still tempted. Been way too long. And 'Some weird sin just to relax with'...Did you ever read about the female fan letter about her desiring a man with the mind of Leonard Cohen and the body of Iggy Pop? They replied, sent a double photo from a studio...she didn't answer. Arf.

Giving up smoking Again but 'the filter is the best part, that's where they put the heroin'. Denis Leary said that and he's still alive...or if you prefer,'Women and heroin are both the ultimate escape'. Hugh Cornwall. Five minutes and you're almost dead. Textbook definition of stupidity is not being able to assimilate new information and process it to recall and use. Or repeating mistakes without learning from them. Dumb is as dumb does, welcome to my world. Just too ugly and lost. Where will you spend eternity? (Old evangelical (evil angels) christian slogan).

Almost strange to be still writing blogs when disconnected from news of the daily world. There is still some linkage to normal reality but I remain in deep longing for the day when five of the most famous leaders on this planet face Absolute Justice in This lifetime for the chaos and murdering shit they have done...but...it has felt so damn Good to switch off the reportage after all these years. The next step will be to be able to go back and listen, watch, read the news without becoming involved, Just evolved. Trump, Putin, Erdogan, Kim Jong Un, and Asshat in Syria. Remarkable that you are alive. Congratulations. Happy to see Mladic has finally been sentenced to life in prison for his war crimes, it took long enough. And Mgabwe ousted at last. Get him up against the wall. Sic semper tyrannis.And may justice be served on Halliburton, Monsanto, Biderbeck and Zuckerberg next year...Julian Assange appears to be aiding those working against the West, (yes, that includes Duck Fart.) Staying too long in an embassy can make most folk a little weird. Hello Baron Beran.

Going back to the island for Sol Invictus/Christmas, Great Britain with all her Little Englanders. Dreading seeing the faces of Boris Johnson, Jacob Rees Mogg et al gurning and talking puerile bullshit. My country is ruined, Europe as any type of 'spiritual' centre is falling, America is shamefully fecked like a dog by their insane choices. You stupid dumb bastards, now EAT what you have made. Wash it down with your own blood and piss. Other countries are rising, tasting the possibilities of mass control; Ready. This is happening all around us. And as for the individuals left...All we become is all we are.

Be yourself, you will never be someone else..

Meanwhile...those who remain outside, remain outside. With no thoughts of being saved in the usual sense, but emotionally detached and thus spiritually rising, crossing over...Fooling ourselves (perhaps) until it is real. Fake it till you make it. 'Experience is knowledge made conscious of itself'. Aleister Crowley wrote that and knew of what he spoke. Ignorance will never convince knowledge says this middle aged idiot.

(I seem to have passed from a thirty year teenage lifestyle to menopause overnight. Missed out on being an adult with a usual life of mortgages and happy family tensions. Perhaps I should buy a Harley Davidson and flirt with 24 year old girls. Or grow up fast and take to bed the first grandmother who thinks I'm worth her time.) Or teach in a nunnery...

How many times can a heart be broken? As many as it takes To break the cycle of destruction Till creation awakes. AKA/anebo, or 'You want it? You got it You break it –you bought it'         Arf.

Anyway, now all that is out of my lunar system...'time' dilates and...back to the Real stuff...Body and mind as a temple, holy or otherwise...Here we go...

Matter at a low rate of vibration is solid...at a high rate of vibration it is subtle. Good health in all areas means raising your vibrations... meditate on imagination and Will. I will see how wise that is when I get my first winter cold and deny it existence. People allow themselves to become hooked on their weaknesses, chasing the thrill or playing the victim.

'We should not protect the weak and vicious from the results of their own inferiority'...To pity another man is to insult him'. Think Nietzsche wrote that. Sounds like him but now my memory is ablaze and random sparks star the dark early morning sky. Total oblivion into the Absolute. FREEDOM. And I'm gone. More coffee....'God is a fire in the head!', cried Nijinsky, on the cusp of insanity. (Crowley, Nietzsche and Nijinsky, I am on a highly pretentious roll here eh? 4.15 am...Let's see what other brilliant lost souls can resurface in this spontaneous flash flood....)

Capture Points....

Ego... defined as a set of immature traits which start in infancy and are carried into adulthood, including a feeling of being omnipotent and deserving of special privilege; great difficulty tolerating frustration and a very high drive which causes one to jump into activity suddenly and impulsively. The infant within needs to be satisfied. Sounds familiar eh?

'Individual creatures tend to stagnate when they have discovered a comfortable ritual of habit'. Colin Wilson.

Addicts, (of one type or another) secretly despising themselves, are likely to respond to another person who approaches them in a loving manner by wondering what this person wants, assuming that this person is a sucker ripe for manipulation, or deciding that the person is crazy. In this way, they fail to receive the praise, warmth and tenderness they crave, and instead, end up lashing out at those who try to love them.

‘”...hedonic arousal of an organism (pleasure or pain) can, with repetition of a stimulus or class of stimuli, lead to a build up of arousal by the organism which opposes the original stimulus....this can create dynamics typical of addiction.' Richard Solomon. Therefore, a person repeating a pleasurable activity over and over again will create in their nervous system an opposing sense of pain. Or, as the song says; 'If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad'? Don't wanna go to rehab. So don't.

The problem with mind altering drugs, is that they appear to lower the levels of serotonin in the brain, the very chemical needed to focus and evolve. Meditation and magick work because of the extra effort required to concentrate and raise energy. Humans get bored way too easily, this in turn creates a deep sense of unease...which leads to mental landslides of panic. Total (or as much as can be achieved and maintained) focus on the work of Now and total (see brackets above) open free surrender, are the only ways to connect with realities of understanding the individual's place and role in creation. Which is 'technically' our imprinted function.

Asbergers, Autism and ADD are basic human traits, there is always a  laziness to attempt focus because the mind wants to run wild. But many types of 'freedom' become a free fall/floating trap when not used for evolving or Being. Because people get bored, most of us run around trying to be very useful or search for temporary excitement, which never seems to go deep enough. Surprise.

This is a peculiarity of the human imagination that is only now being recognised by psychology; that when it is denied active, creative expression, it seeks out any powerful stimulus, no matter how terrifying or negative. The human mind craves movement, any movement. Boredom or emptiness allows the mind to fill up with unused energy...this produces the usual effect of preventing the instincts from doing their quiet unobtrusive work. The feelings are frozen. The desire for strong feelings -the most basic of psychological needs -becomes a kind of panic; guilt and misery are preferable to boredom. What the mind really craves is the sense of vastness and wide openness, of other times and other places, of meaning.'Long quote but says way better what I would like to. Colin Wilson again, from The Occult, 763 pages of fascination...he also wrote the following...

'Certain people possess natural 'magical' faculties, but unless these are subservient to intellect and imagination, they will tend to be used in the service of negative emotion –malice, envy and so on.' Most people possess magical faculties. Most people are, fortunately unaware of it.'

Man is defined by the ability to love. The soul is refined by the love it's made of.Said a low class poet yesterday trying too hard to live up to his own belief system and almost failing. 'Basically a poor human being', says his end of year report card. Poor little ghost boy. Hmm. Neurosis is caused by sexual stasis...orgasm discharges the sex energies and eliminates the neurosis. Temporarily. Think that was Reich. But anyway...

Heaven, Hell, demons, ghosts, angels, we are our own...mass projection, a spontaneous manifestation of the forces of the subconscious. Like all magick. Parallel realms are imprinted with thought made real focused or random...or so, based on my own experiments, I choose to believe. You are on your own. You are really not on your own. And that perception, like everything else, is your Choice. Practice makes...imperfection less ridiculous. And that is as far as optimism as I will go this morning.

Use your body to create forms, use your spirit to transcend forms. Unify body and spirit to activate the art of peace. It comes. Maintain it as you would a flower.

Written by candle and computer light, listening to full volume live Swans at 3 to 5.30 am on a school day (mostly the sex pulse of The Glowing Man live on repeat, Mother Sky by Can, updated). Window open to share the headphone music with neighbours. My students will suffer a red eyed rant later today, but it's all English eh? (When not babbling fake Enochian.) A word about Swans for anyone new here. If you enjoy disintegrating into ecstacy, buy everything by them. The Total Sound of Nature and the Universe, surrender and rejoice, no regrets. O, I wish I had some whisky here. But I didn't smoke and I didn't drink, I found some new things to think. Found some old books to read, refused to want the one I need. But yearning for union. Deeply and truly.

Saturnalia soon...and on the 17th December, I will have been in Prague for 23 years. A deep thank you to all those who made my alchemy here so infused with their kindnesses, may you live in fine health and learning.

Practice your etheric stretches...it helps with what you wish to achieve.'Energy equals Mass multiplied by the velocity of the square of light'. Use that as long mantra, go into it...Trust me, I'm a (leave the blank empty as the Void). And Happy multicoloured Christmas/Sol Invictus with blood on the snow in red crosses and a snake spiralling up the staff to the victory of the Light.

See you in '2018' perhaps.. Stay well.....

YOU. KNOW.

NOW. BE

LOVE.