#if i am to be ugly throughout my whole life grant me the one wish to be pretty upon my deathbed

[parasiticallamb]

i wish i had a choice. i wish i could rot. i dont want to be alive. i dont want to be alive. i dont want to be alive. i dont want to be alive. why cant it ever be my choice

[self-aware-sawtrap]

excuse me (stares unblinkingly directly into your eyes) I would be very interested in hearing your thoughts on the parallels between frankenstein and saw. specifically those between the characters of the monster and amanda young. I am so curious..... but no pressure ofc. feel free to answer me in this ask if you wish! or if you feel so inclined, my dms are open as well :)

I literally screamed when I got your ask I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask me this specific question for so long. I actually just started drafting an essay on this very topic so I’ve got a lot of ideas floating around my head right now.

the main parallel I see between these two stories is between victor frankenstein’s relationship to his creation and john’s relationship to amanda. john and victor’s defining motivators in both of their stories are their god complexes—victor greatly admires his own mind and the power it grants him, and he starts out with this curiosity as to what it would feel like to have power over human nature as well. John’s god complex is more subtle but I feel like it’s definitely there as well. even before he starts testing people he expresses frustration with the cycle of addiction and recovery, as well as a desire to “intervene” despite his own acknowledgement that these cycles are a part of human nature. so even before the traps begin we see similar motivations between the two, and john’s similarity to victor only becomes more apparent after he starts testing people. in my opinion, victor frankenstein’s primary flaw regarding his treatment of the creation is that he views the creation more so as an extension of his ability to create than a person with their own feelings and autonomy. this is why he chickens out of the whole endeavor when he sees the creature come to life for the first time—it’s not because the creature is just so ugly he had to bail, but because he can’t confront the idea that this thing he created, which he made to prove his ability to “create humanity” and feed his god complex, is not just visibly imperfect but genuinely hideous. and throughout the course of the book he’s forced to confront the fact that he hasn’t created humanity—he’s created one human, who needs a competent parent and a supportive upbringing. in short, his relationship to his creation is too much like a father to be at all godlike.

which brings me to john and amanda. while saw obviously doesn’t take the idea of creating life as literally as frankenstein, there’s still a similarity in the way john treats amanda’s “rebirth” after her test. he tells her that the scars on her arms are “from another life”, one that he expects her to leave behind for the sake of their mission. and just like victor frankenstein, john is attached to amanda in part because he sees her as living proof that his philosophy works. if Amanda’s life improves after her test, if amanda changes because of her test, then that means john was right to want to change her. and that means he can continue forcing people to change, because no matter how brutal his method is or how dubious the proof that it actually works, he at least has amanda. his daughter figure and, in his eyes, the only definitive evidence of his control over human nature.

john, of course, loves amanda. that is the primary difference between these stories. john, unlike victor, understands that he is some sort of father figure to amanda. he understands that she needs comfort and support from him, and on some level I do think he wants to provide that for her. but in the end john’s relationship with amanda is doomed for the same reason that victor’s relationship with his creation is. while john understands that he has stumbled into fatherhood, this does not change the fact that both of them are completely unprepared for what fatherhood will entail. they set out attempting to become gods—of course neither of them were prepared to be fathers. but arguably, they should have been. arguably, they both should have known better.

it’s frankenstein, but centering on monstrous rebirth instead of monstrous creation.

sorry it took so long to get back to you! this post took a while to become coherent. I cannot cannot cannot thank you enough for asking! if you have any questions or want to discuss further I’m literally always willing to talk about this.

[rayofdawnworld]

A Good Girl

So, for context: Earlier this year our darling @saiyanprincessswanie got sick and needed surgery. I being a worried friend, reached out wished her luck promised her a get well fic, and then prayed for her. All good and dandy. But not. See, the incredible idiot that I am, NEVER POSTED THE FIC!!! I PUT THE STORY IN MY POSTED FILE BUT I DIDN'T GIVE IT TO HER!!! I. Am. A. Moran... But, this has allowed me to re-read my work and I can make it better. So, I'm posting part one now and I'll post part two next Monday. Our beloved @saiyanprincessswanie deserves more than just a one-shot at this point. I'm so sorry my Dear. I so hope you like it.  

For those interested, Tag list is open for this fic. 

Moodboard by me. :)

Grey!Steve/Sassy!OC

A Good Girl

Part One- Warnings: None

She was a good girl. Anyone with half a brain cell could see that. Steve looked at the young man once again stunned. Not only was the young woman beautiful, she looked soft and sweet,he could hardly believe that she looked so young. If asked, Steve would have sworn the beautiful woman was a young girl of eighteen and not a woman of twenty-seven, but she did have an inner lining of steel running through her, she had a fire, judging by the way she was ranting with the younger man. Steve found himself drawn to her, captivated in a way that no one ever managed to captivate him. Not even peggy. A man can get up to some very bad things for just a chance at getting a Girl like her. He thought to himself with a half formed idea backing at the back of his head. 

In hindsight, he was glad that he came with the idiot. They had met in one of his Support Group Meetings. The young man was in bed in the “act” when his girlfriend was dusted. But the relationship had been rocky, and he had been thinking about an old girlfriend of his, more and more. From what he gathered the girl had been left alone. An orphan, she had gotten a scholarship in Forensic accounting where they had met. They had dated throughout their college years but had sadly drifted apart when they hit the workforce despite having both been accepted in a prestigious firm. The stress had simply been too much. That's when things had ended. 

One of the many consequences of the snap had been unemployment. Companies had gone bankrupt either because they had lost all or most of their workforce or because the owners and shareholders had evaporated and there was no one to sign the paychecks and pay the bills. The snap had caused more problems than solved them, at least on earth. Such, in point, was the young girl's case. Steve hadn't understood why she had quit her job at the firm and had gone to a much smaller firm with a significant downgrade in income, but now he understood. She was working as a waitress in a rundown diner. The smaller firm had lost everyone. She had been the only one left. 

Steve had only just managed to dodge a flying cup aimed for the young man but alas, she didn’t have a very good aim. This argument had been going on for the better part of forty minutes. She knew she was going to get fired, so she may have decided to go all out. 

The idea had been to go with the dolt, as moral support, go talk to the girl. He had sat in a booth, while the younger man had sat in another. Her face had soured from the sweet smile she had the moment she had recognized her ex-boyfriend. She had been polite, asked him what he had wanted, he said he wanted coffee and a chance to talk. She had agreed and went to get his order. Her boss had given her ten minutes that would be reduced from her lunch hour. He listened in thanks to his superior hearing. It had been a simple conversation at first. The air stiled when, the Moran had said that he missed her. Things became frosty when he informed her that the other woman had been dusted. It took a turn for the worst when he said that he wanted her back. At first, she just laughed, then… Then the argument started. That's when Steve got the truth. He had always suspected that there was something off about the sap story the other asshole had shared with the group. Now he knew. My poor sweet girl. Don’t worry I'll  take care of you. 

Sadie was done. Just done. All her life she had been a good girl. She always did what the nuns told her to do. She never broke the rules, worked hard, was kind to all even when she was bullied. She did her damn best, to tell the truth, she saved herself waiting for “the one”, she had been faithful, loyal. She was humble, modest. And for what? To be called boring and humiliated by being compared with another woman. She had felt so small when Kevin had said that, what’s her name was sexier and better in bed. She had rebuffed that she had been a virgin when they had met. Not to mention that he never wanted to try anything new, telling her that she shouldn’t try to be someone she wasn’t, whatever THAT meant. Kevin then had the gall of saying it was all her fault he slept with the other woman. She should have done more, tried better. Learned more. When she asked him acidly, if the point of exploring one's sexuality was to do it as a couple, the bastard had accused her of making a scene. She had quit her job and left the apartment they shared that very day. He had called her accusing her of being childish and overreacting, she threw her phone away, just in case he could track the serial number. Sadie wondered how long it would take the firm and his new flame to find out that eighty percent of his so-called excellent work was done by her, at home. In some misguided and deluded idea of good to him.

The world had changed a year after that. She was still hurt. But not in the way most thought. She was hurt and angry at herself. For not saying what she wanted. For not realizing what a jackass Kevin was. But above all, she wished she could have punched him. And now here he was… Telling her how sorry  he was, what a mistake he had made, and how much he missed her and how much he wanted her back. Everything went red after that, she didn’t know what she said but she did remember throwing something at him. She nearly hit the client sitting in the booth behind them. She was going to get fired for that. She just knew it. She didn’t care. It was a lousy job anyway. She did on the other hand get to do something she had dreamed of ever since they had broken up, no ever since she had caught him cheating and left him. It wasn’t a punch, no. But it had been a slap. And a very big mighty slap. 

Later that evening, Frank had been gracious enough to “let” her finish her shift, with no job and slim prospects, she was still smiling. Her smile dropped when she saw Captain America himself waiting outside for her with an apologetic face. Now that she thought back on it. Kevin had walked in with him. Before she could say anything the tall Adonis took a step forward and smiled minutely.

“I’m sorry about today. I didn’t know the whole story. If I had I would have stopped him from coming here.” Steve Grant Rogers was talking to her. Apologizing to her. Sadie smiled stunned but sadly.

“It’s alright. Kevin has always had this way about him. It takes a bit for you to see past his bulshit.” Steve chuckled and shook his head. We’ll have to do something about this language though. “I’m not surprised you fell for it. You're a good man, Captain.” 

Hearing that did things to him. She was perfect in every way. Sweet, pure, good-natured. She deserved better than Kevin. She deserved someone who would keep her safe from the ugliness that this word had become. She deserved to be cherished. Taken care of. And HE wanted to be the one to do all those things for her. But he also realized that he would have to pace himself. 

“Well, to make it up to you how about I offer you a job? I was going to give it to Kevin, but I think there's a story he’s not telling us about him being fired from the firm you were both working at, so I feel my safest bet is offering it to you.” Steve said shifting his weight from foot to foot. Sadie smiled at that.

“Yea, someone at the firm must have found out that he was a slacker. I did most of his work for him remotely from home at night. And with no hot, exciting girlfriend in HR to cover up for him…” was all she had to say. “What kind of job are you talking about?”

“Simple accounting. Nothing out of the ordinary. Howard Stark stopped the government from declaring me dead so the hundred dollars I invested in his company have grown in stock value ever since. He also apparently bought a bunch of Real Estate and a lot of other stuff, so now I don't know what I have or what I owe to the IRS. I need someone to look at my books… that have been untouched since nineteen ninety-one.” Steve explained, a bit overwhelmed. Sadie wished she could have told him that she needed to think about it. But she didn’t. Without any job prospects, she wasn’t in a place to decline Steve's offer. The fact that she would be working for America's Golden Boy and getting one over Kevin was just a bonus. Thanking him he gave her the compound address and they parted ways. 

He followed her from a safe distance. He wanted to make sure she got home alright. At least that's what he told himself as he melted into the darkness. 

[donnnoir]

Abduct this dick; assholes

Dallas, Texas                                               July 16, 2019

Well since I am known to be a bit of a killjoy; I reckon I should just go ahead and piss in everybody’s punch bowl right off the bat.  If I was a prudent man I would wait to secure a large contingent of followers before unpacking certain ugly Truths.  Excepting that a given percentile would drop because I essentially assaulted one of their tenants of faith.  I however have never been known to be either a sensible nor prudent man.  As the song says, “if the Truth hurts bear it”.  Thus with that in mind let’s dance.

The phenomena known as Alien Abduction is for the most part (like 99.5 %) false.  Now before everyone decides to block me, allow me to say that the individuals who are suffering and experiencing abduction are indeed being abducted.  They are being experimented on by their abductors.  The real question and therefore crux of the matter is, who is abducting these people?  What is happening to them?  For what purposes?  Why are they experiencing these abductions as being perpetrated by aliens, principally the Greys?  Why would not aliens be abducting humans?  

From discussions long ago on the topic of Alien Abduction.  I was generally informed that, “come on really”!  Think about it, a more progressed race of intelligent beings can cross the entirety of the cosmos to come anal probe hill-billy Jeb to see what he has been eating?  Really?  Look long ago I saw all kinds of “spheres” and craft very similar to what we now call drones used by ETs to collect data or observe us.  If they want information on ANYONE, including Hill-Billy Jeb.  They could let Jeb inhale a micro sphere capable of scanning his entire body.  Transmit the data to a command module or craft were a non-living version of Jeb could be assembled down to each atom in real time in a lab.  This “version” could then be manipulated as necessary to whatever determining factors were being considered.  This sphere could give continuous live real time data so the subject could be observed in real life context.  Without any undo suffering or harm.  Once sufficient data has been collected the sphere can simply exit Jeb’s body via the closest orifice.  Hell the sphere wouldn’t even need to enter Jeb.  I just put that in to illustrate the possibility to any who subscribe to such being necessary to collect data.  Oh and I mean no offense to my Hill-Billy friends or kin.

Please always remember these persons the abductees are genuinely experiencing real and very disturbing memories of actually being kidnapped and tortured.  Let us not add to their pain by trying to minimize their suffering so that what they are experiencing fits some little box in our minds.  If anything the realities of what is happening should enrage everyone to the point of demanding that those responsible are held to the highest level of accountability and justice is done to them.  Plain and simply put - beginning with Our Government the Alien Phenomena inclusive of Abductions has been usurped to serve the agendas of what can best currently be called The Shadow Government.  Which is deeper and darker than what is presently being referred to as the Deep State (Government).  During the ‘60’s NASA developed Holographic Technologies.  These were initially employed along with hallucinatory drugs as part of a variety of cover stories for the victims of the infamous MK Ultra (mind control) experiments of the time.  I suggest you YouTube Cathy O’Brien.  She openly discusses the matter, or read “Trance-formation of America”, or her other books on the topic.  The victims then suffered additional torture and trauma as these scenarios / cover stories were put in place among the victim’s memories.   As the MK Ultra program was expanded to larger and larger portions of the population it became common practice to embed and use the Alien Abduction scenario in all test subjects.  Matter of fact following the initial reports and the common use of hypnotic regression to recover these memories. In later sessions with these same individuals. They generally recalled seeing several of the notorious Men in Black also in the room during their torture (presumed science experimentation by the Greys).  I suspect that the more recent reports no longer recall such.  As programmers of this type are quick to adjust their activities to exclude any tell tale signs of “the man behind the current” as it were.  The explosion of this supposed Phenomena follows closely the expansion of the continuing programs replacing MK Ultra within and throughout our society.  Ultimately the interests of Our Shadow Government align with those of the Ruling Black Hand of other Shadow Governments around the world.  As such we exported this “Phenomena” to the world.  

Sadly not all abductions can be explained by my thesis.  Mostly due to the fact not all ETs are benevolent, some even view us as a food source. Some are misidentified, when their old world label is much more appropriate that being “demons”.  Don’t worry everyone is going to get reacquainted with these entities from dark lower harmonic realms and their hive mind sets.  Much sooner than most of you may like.  Believe me we are not ready for what is coming.

So what the fuck does it mean?  The totality of the situation is beyond me!  What I can tell you constitutes a small portion of what is happening and to a lesser degree what is planned for all of us, but most particularly the unfortunate abductees.  First and foremost this project/operation was to cover up the sadistic practices of these occultic/satanic believers and their vile appetites.  Nonetheless the presumed operational objectives were genetic sampling and experimentation of the victims.  You see in Antediluvian times one of the great sins of the sons and daughters of Eve was altering their own genome or adulterating it with that of the Nephilim.  By the time Noah came around the practice had become so wide spread that quite literally just Noah and his family had sufficient original genes from Adam and Eve to qualify as being appropriate to continue the human race.  Important footnote here; as according to Antediluvian Law and Tradition, Noah would have brought his household with him on the Ark. Which is inclusive of more than just those consanguineously associated to him.  Consequently these Occultist that make up the Shadow Government wanted to track down all the fragments of these abomination variants scattered in the genes of the population.  They are currently active in trying to create Nephilim via cloning as an attempt to produce super soldiers for the Military Industrial Complex.  With some degree of success I might add.  If creating an abomination can be called a success at any level.  While farming test subjects they also wished to test how flexible our genome really is. Years ago there was discussion as to the programable nature of our DNA.  Comparing it to the Operating Systems of computers and how it could be used to transfer information along with how to make an executable file to update the base program.  As part of this, experiments were devised and various “packets of code” were placed in the test subjects.  At some future date the individual with be further victimized by being subjected to a stimuli (more than likely some form of non-ionizing radiation of a particular frequency and modulation) meant to cause the code to express its self in the subject.  With unimaginable speed the person’s genome will rewrite its self and express this physically in and on the test subject.  I suspect that depending on the amounts initially expressed and its penetration in our society many groups may have this delayed so as to see how it passes from one generation to another, allowing observation of any mutations and continuity.  They wish to hopefully create whole new species of humans.  Granted the attrition rate will be immense, but hey “you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet”. At least that is what they would have you believe.  There are other tie-ins, considerations and vectors from other platforms that are worth thinking about as part of this.  Speculation into the topic could fill pages, and no doubt does in various operation manuals elsewhere.  But I need to be as succinct as possible and maintain focus for any reader who happens upon my writings.  Good Luck to Us All; G-dspeed and may He have mercy on Us all; cause it is going to be a wild ride...

[wahoo-stomp]

I’ve never really been a big listener to One Direction.

Okay. That’s a lie. I literally don’t listen to One Direction. Got nothing against them – just never really had any interest, and my music tastes are…limited. So I was more than a little surprised when my Spotify playlist led to a 1D song in the Year of Our Lord 2019. I know Spotify can sometimes select a song that it thinks you’ll like based on what you listen to – but the artist I’d been listening to wasn’t even in the same genre. So imagine my surprise when I’m greeted with—

You're insecure Don't know what for You're turning heads when you walk through the door.

Okay first of all, what?

This is roughly when I reached for my phone to change the song, but then my brain did that thing where it went “eh what the heck” and I let it play a little longer. It didn’t take long for me to see that this is one of many songs with a theme of the singer talking to someone and telling them they’re more attractive than they realize. It’s not the most original concept, but there was nothing particularly offensive to me about this iteration of it, so I let the song continue further. I admit I like pop styled tunes, probably because of a whole bunch of stuff a music theorist could better explain than I can, so it was fun to listen to – and then suddenly something jumped out at me.

I hardly believe I’m saying this, but I’m going to recommend listening to the song to see what I’m talking about if you don’t know it, and NO, this isn’t a plug for a defunct boy band.

Okay, you’ve listened to the point where they go “If only you saw what I can see—” you can pause it there. 

So far the artists have stuck to what I would call pleasant but superficial comments. Hair flicking is…not really anything that stands out to me, since frankly I care more about eyes and anyways we’re talking from the perspective of a guy who might be asexual and aromantic (can I say that? I’m still trying to figure it out, so I’m not sure I’m right anyway and hopefully I didn’t irk anyone just now). Lighting up the world, yada yada yada. Heard it all before, will hear it again. But then, when the line mentioned above played, my attention was instantly grabbed.

Now before I explain why that is the case, I’m gonna let ya’ll in on a little secret. I’m super, super duper, super duper duper insecure. I know, right? You never would have guessed*. Nah, but all joking aside, one of the things I struggle with most is a feeling of…worth. Now I do have people in my life who tell me they love me – I have friends who (I think) think pretty highly of me, and I have a job and am overall doing okay for a millennial trying to survive as a liberal arts major in this economic nightmare we call “capitalism.” But even all that granted, I struggle everyday with the idea that I’m really worthy of love or interest or anything along that line. This is largely because I am acutely aware of my faults, including the ones I (gasp) try to hide from others. Fact is, I have a scrolling list of ways in which I bungle things, sometimes daily, and it’s not all that easy to see myself as valuable when I have said list.

*You literally guessed after three seconds.

I can hear you saying “no one is perfect, Josh.” Yeah, I know. Heck, the characters in my other blogs are learning that as we speak (even though I think Rocky is pretty darn close). Still doesn’t keep me from berating myself. Sometimes, if we’re totally honest, the internal and external pressures I face are nearly enough to make me give up on myself as a lost cause.

“Okay, um, this is depressing. Does it get better?”

Well, I have one more thing to add. I’m a Christian.

*cue sirens*

Christians are a scary bunch to some folks, and, uh, I don’t always blame them. Some people claiming to represent Jesus suck immensely at it and there is an extensive list of people who do so that I wish I could just tell to shut up. But, with your permission, we’ll skip over the common stereotypes associated with radical Christianity and, for now, summarize my faith perspective as the following statement – I see God as my friend, and I believe the converse is true.

Good. We’ve got that out of the way.

Here’s the problem. If my faith is to be believed, God knows me inside and out – meaning God knows what an idiot I can be. That’s disconcerting. That’s unnerving. That’s freakin’ terrifying – not because I expect God to drop a bolt of lightning on my face (again, not that kind of “Christian”), but for the same reason I don’t tell all of YOU how messy I can be – I don’t want you to hate me or give up on me and decide I’m not worth it.

Okay. That’s a lot of laundry, but I promise I’m getting to a point.

When I say I see God as a friend, I recognize how that might sound. Many faith traditions not only disagree with that statement, but disagree on the nature of God, period. I’m not here to argue with those folks. Disagreement and respect are compatible. If you don’t mind hearing me out, though, perhaps my perspective on God in relation to a 1D song will provide you with either (a) some encouragement or (b) the final confirmation you need that I am in fact a lunatic. We shall see.

If only you saw what I can see You'll understand why I want you so desperately Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe You don't know You don't know you're beautiful!

Okay, that rolls off the tongue well. What does it have to do with what I mentioned above? Well, if I may be allowed to withdraw a sample (emphasis on sample, I strongly encourage reading the full context of this thing) from the pre-Christian writings of Scripture, more specifically the book of Psalms, chapter 139, verses 17 and 18:

“How precious to me are your thoughts, God!    How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them,    they would outnumber the grains of sand—    when I awake, I am still with you.”

“Okay, great. Where’s the connection?”

Well, although this particular piece doesn’t mention it, there are a variety of instances in scriptural writ where God’s thoughts towards people, be they individuals or nations, are referenced as positive. (Yes, there are negative examples too, often stated as part of a judgment passage, but I am not skilled in the subject of God’s judgment and will not attempt to go into depth on it right now). The chapter at large acknowledges God’s presence throughout the writers life, even predating birth. For the record, the writer of this particular Psalm, was, uh, messed up. David did some stuff right but whoa nelly he really did some screwball stuff (to put it incredibly lightly) – so we’re not looking at someone who’s perfect when he talks about God’s thoughts.

If we take this piece of writing, therefore, and slightly change the perspective of the speaker…we might end up with a (rather less cliché sounding) 1D song. Now before someone burns me at the proverbial stake, let me clarify what I mean. (NO, I’m not equating holy writ with pop music, promise.)

Let us assume, that these positive examples of God’s thoughts, can be applied to ourselves – or to you and me, to bring it home. If this is the case, when we regard ourselves as unworthy of love, or not valuable, or ugly (a struggle for me personally) or whatever else, is it entirely unreasonable that God’s reaction might be something along the lines of the chorus above?

I think that if we refer back even earlier to that venerable writ in the Torah known as Genesis, we can encounter God’s initial thought on the creation of humankind. Essentially, “It was very good (1:31).”

(For the record, it goes downhill from there as far as the whole “being good” thing goes, but for that moment, at least, God was pretty excited with the state of humankind.)

So let us now take the (limited) textual context and apply it to the, song, taking some creative license (and removing any romantic preconceptions).

Dear one I’d light up the world for nobody else To see a smile on your face makes me smile as well No matter what you may think it’s not hard to tell I still know, oh oh You are just so beautiful If only you saw what I can see You’ll understand why I care for you constantly Right now I’m looking at you and I can’t believe You don’t know – you are just so beautiful.

Okay, now here’s something I feel obligated to clarify. I’m not a fan of fluffy faith. I’m also not a fan of reducing suffering and emotional struggle to a single sentence. Band-aid solutions and glib encouragement irk me. So I am not pretending for a moment that I know what anyone reading this is going through. Really, I’m just writing something for myself and hoping that something in it provides encouragement for others.

Essentially, I believe God’s perception of our value is not tied to ours, and I’m encouraged by the idea that someone smarter than me knows just what I’m capable of, and loves me despite all my dirty laundry.

That doesn’t mean I recommend using 1D as a source of spiritual encouragement.

I do recommend considering the possibility that your favorite love song or the things that encourage you could very well be used by God to try to communicate God’s thoughts to you. Furthermore, I do recommend acknowledging your value is not caught up in only your perspective, and that there are so many ways in which you are valued…beautiful, that you may not even see.

After all, perfection isn’t attainable – but if you don’t dismiss something because it’s imperfect, why would God?

Everyone else in the room can see it, Maybe it’s time you did too.

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Fuck You (Not actual title)

So, this can actually be found here. It is a part of more but I wanted to post this since I did the first one as well.

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

            The voices coming from the room below were enough to make Draco a little nervous. He had to push them down and bury it all under a false bravado of Malfoy manners and an aloof attitude.

            “This does not bode well for my confidence in your son.” The Dark Lord’s voice caused shivers of disgust in Draco.

            “My apologies, my Lord. He will take his punishment as any Death Eater would.”     

            That had Draco’s brows rising. His father was offering him up in punishment? Fucking prick. The parental love was definitely strong. Father of the year.

            “He is your son, you will take credit for his wrong doings as well.” Well, at least there was some kind of karma in the world. He almost wished he could be here to see his father take the brunt of explosive anger he knew the Dark Lord would release at his departure.

             Draco sighed internally as he pushed open the door and made his way to the far side, where he knew Suzy could enter without being seen.

            The sight of the Dark Lord’s face hadn’t changed any since the last time he had seen it. It was still as ugly and hideous as before. When children have nightmares, surely this is what they witnessed. The blood red eyes were still as uncomfortable as they sounded. The snake-like features did nothing but make Draco want to ask if the man had taken the wrong route when reviving his body. Because surely something went wrong somewhere.

            “Young Draco.” There was displeasure, disappointment and even anger that manifested in two simple words. Ones that had Draco steeling himself for whatever was going to come.

           That was the only warning he got before he was subjected to the cruciatus curse. Hearing about the pain and being associated to it were completely different things. No one mentions the way muscles seize up or the way screams escape the throat so painfully that it feels as if it was scalding on its way out. The agony of the curse is downplayed. Every single part of Draco’s body was protesting the torture and crying out for a reprieve. If he was a lesser person, he would beg for it to stop. But he wasn’t going to give the man the pleasure of breaking him. It was one thing for the screams to escape, that was the bodies way of coping with the torment. It was an entirely different thing for his mind to give up too.

            Realistically, Draco knew he was only under the spell for seconds, possibly a minute. However, his body didn’t feel as if it was only seconds. His entire being was aching with a ferocity that worried him. The first few moments without the curse was almost as bad as being under it. His body couldn’t decide what was a threat and what wasn’t. His abused muscles were still straining, in a weak attempt at fortifying the body for the next attack.

            The not-so-comforting hard surface underneath his cheek let him know that he had fallen to the floor during the spell. He could feel a dull throbbing, a warning that he would most likely bruise.

            “Tardiness is not becoming of my Death Eaters. This will be the last time I am so lenient.”

            Lenient. Draco wanted to scoff and tell him that his people skills needed work but he wasn’t actively attempting suicide by stupidity. So, he said nothing as he forced his limbs to cooperate enough to get up. Fuck. He was going to hurt for a while.

            He adopted a submissive pose towards the Dark Lord, shoulders slightly slumped, head bowed in a meek position. Draco knew that this is what the man expected of him and he was quite grateful for that. This was more preferable than looking directly at him. If he had to stare at the godawful face for much longer, he might do something drastic. Like tell the man to place several glamour charms on his head. Or his whole body. Wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.

            “Tonight, you will be given an opportunity that not many get.” The odd purr to his voice creeped him out.

           Draco closed his eyes briefly as he tried not to clench his fists. Opportunity. What a joke.

            “I expect great things from the Malfoy name.”

             This sounded like a bad lecture from his father. He lost count of how many times he had heard this throughout his life.

            “Your father is one of my more loyal followers.”

           That was pathetic if that was true. His father was a coward to his core.

            “You are young enough to be strategic, which will grant me the eyes and ears inside of Hogwarts that I need. I have a task for you, your family name in my ranks relies upon your success.”

           That right there was the karma he had been hoping for.

            Draco felt a small touch to the back of his knees and knew it was Suzy. He sighed internally at the knowledge that he was alright. He would be okay, he would get out of this.

            “Dumbledore has proven to be a roadblock in my plans. The man has a strong sway with the public eye, to get them to see it my way, I need him gone. This is where you come in.”

            Uh oh. This didn’t sound good at all. Draco had a bad feeling bubbling at the surface.

            “The public is still unaware of my return. They don’t want to believe that I could once again be at the top. They cling to denial and use their crippling belief in society to keep them warm at night. If Dumbledore was to be removed from the equation, without proof of my return, they will lose faith in the light side of things.”

            The logic was flawed and not all the way thought out. Draco could see pieces of truth in there but he had a feeling that the Dark Lord was losing touch in reality. Or perhaps he was losing himself in his bid to rule the world?

            “Dumbledore’s death is the catalyst to my plans. You will be the one to kill him.”

            Draco snapped his head up in partial surprise and horror. What? What kind of utter shite was this? The Dark Lord himself had never been successful at killing the man. Hadn’t ever even come close. What did he expect from a sixteen-year-old? Someone not even a quarter of Dumbledore’s age. Someone significantly weaker in magical strength and abilities. The man couldn’t possibly think he would succeed.

            There it was. As Draco stared into the Dark Lord’s eyes, he realized that he wasn’t supposed to succeed. For whatever reason, he had been chosen for the suicide mission. Because making a target of Dumbledore would either result in him being killed while trying, being caught and carted off to Azkaban or being killed by the Dark Lord for failing. In the end, the underlying reason didn’t matter. His life was forfeit the moment he walked in here. The question was, how did he want to die? At the hands of the Dark Lord for failing? Or at the hands of the Dark Lord for trying?

            “Fuck you.”

            The statement stunned everyone, even Draco. That hadn’t meant to come out. Oh, he had been thinking it, but he hadn’t meant to say it.

           The last thing he saw was a widening of red eyes, a wand raised to kill and his father’s nearly visible gasp. The feeling of the disapparation was so welcoming that he could have wept. He was so dead.

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

Hopefully you enjoyed that! If so check out the rest, the link is at the top.

[orionsangel86]

A retrospective look at the Season 12 wishlist.

Back shortly after the season 11 finale I wrote out a wishlist of all the things I wanted for Season 12. Looking back at that list (here) It’s funny to see what I wanted with hindsight now that season 12 is over and season 13 is only a week away. I thought I would revisit my season 12 wishlist to recap the season and where I went wrong (and right!) before I post a wishlist for season 13.

Wish 1. Castiel gets his emotional arc resolved - This is a big one. As a Cas girl I was left unsatisfied with Castiel’s arc this season, HOWEVER, we KNOW from previous Dabb episodes that he loves to explore Castiel’s emotional story and I have no doubt that this will continue into season 12. Our angel still has a story ahead of him (hopefully ending in the love of a certain green eyed hunter.)

In Hindsight: Ah yes, my big number one on the wishlist was all about Cas getting his emotional arc resolved. Did he get this? Well, kind of. I don’t think any of us could have predicted that Dabb would give us THREE Castiel heavy episodes exploring his emotional past, present and future in ways which blew our collective meta brains out. Cas got lots of love this season and its why season 12 is now one of my all time faves. Where we are now is unknown in some ways for Cas but in other ways his past is clear. He has finally reached the transformation part of his character journey, and season 13 will bring us a Cas rising from the ashes like a beautiful phoenix shrouded in flames.

Wish 2. SUPERBRITISH - I am not going to stop going on about this. This is my land, My green and (fairly) pleasant land. The British are coming to Supernatural and I cannot stop being excited about it. Can I please have ALL the TFW in London head canons please? From traffic jams and silly accents to discovering the glory that is a bacon roll from Gregs on a Sunday morning whilst suffering a horrendous hangover.

In Hindsight: LOL. Yeah right. Am I disappointed? Totally. The British Men of Letters were for me, totally underwhelming. There was no trip to England, there was no grumpy Dean stuck on the M25. At the end of the day they served their purpose. They brought home the fact that hunting is not black and white. That sometimes it is humans who are the most monstrous. Honestly right now I just hope we don’t revisit it. I think its best that this story line gets dropped from now on. *sigh*

Wish 3. Awesome female characters continuing to kick ass - I adored the use of female characters in the finale. They all lived, no one female was a sexy lamp (sadly that role was given to Castiel) and no one got forced into unnecessary make out sessions. The women are smart, sarcastic badass queens who will RULE this show come October, and I for one, cannot wait. 

In Hindsight: Can I hear a cheer for the WAYWARD SISTERS! Hell’s YES! I mean, they have granted us what we wanted with the Wayward Sisters in season 13, but did we actually get this in season 12? Well, Lady Toni turned out to be a psycho, who died. Her British badass knuckle duster lady also died. Alicia and Tasha both died, so did Rowena and Eileen. It actually wasn’t a GREAT season for the girls. This is what happens when you give Bucklemming too much control over the main plot I suppose. *sigh*. So whilst the Wayward Sisters announcement definitely counts as a win, overall I can’t say this wish has been ticked off. 

Wish 4. Men of Letters vs Grand Coven - Yes this is a big one and I am hoping is the main story arc going forward into season 12. I want to see more of the Grand Coven of witches and their European battle with the Men of Letters. I am expecting more awesome women kicking ass thanks to this potential storyline.

In Hindsight: LOL. Again. Wasted. Potential. *sigh*

Wish 5. Mother Mary and family time - Mary’s reveal was pretty amazing especially since I think we were all expecting it to just be her ghost or a vision or something, but nope, Mummy Winchester is back on the scene and I can’t even begin to imagine what they are planning to do with this. All I am hoping for is that Mary’s influence will help Dean to accept certain parts of him that he loves to keep repressed (effeminophobia and his bisexuality being the big ones). Mary coming back will hopefully start to truly break down and destroy John Winchester’s toxic influence over his sons. I also really really want her to meet Cas and say the words “Thank you for watching over my son.” YES.

In Hindsight: Ok so this one I think gets ticked off. Mary’s purpose was to get Dean to let go of some of his major hang ups, to finally get some really heavy stuff off his chest, and to break down John Winchesters toxic influence. Also for Dean to finally take his mother off that pedestal he’s been keeping her on his whole life. I think the show, and 12x22 particularly, did an excellent job with this. We didn’t quite get a bisexual reveal, but the subtext was thick and heavy (12x11 was glorious). Mary also mirrored Cas continually throughout the season as two people both looking for their place in this little family dynamic and having Mary accept Cas as “one of my boys” really was the icing on the cake for any Cas fans out there happily sipping on hater tears.

Wish 6. Sam gets some distance from Dean, some other friends, maybe a girl, and definitely a dog - I think it is safe to say that Sam isn’t dead. Probably just shot in the arm or leg or something. I want him to be taken to England by Lady T and face the Men of Letters. I hope that they will warm to Sam (and his wonderful moose charms) and that Sam will get to bond with his British companions away from Dean (because Dean always steals the side characters away and bonds with them more than Sam ever does - except for Eileen). Maybe there could even be love in the future for Sam - either by bringing back Eileen or developing a decent and believable relationship between Sam and Lady T (I don’t want her forced into the love interest role, I think she is far too good for that already, but if she becomes a regular throughout the season like Rowena is then potentially a relationship could blossom slowly between them. It could work. I have been hoping for love for Sam for some time now and I can see the potential in this).

In Hindsight: Urgh so this is a yes and a massive NOPE at the same time. Bucklemming managed to ruin Lady Toni in the second episode of the season and then killed off Eileen in 12x21 (seriously fuck those assholes). I guess even the THOUGHT of shipping Sam with someone now gets a girl killed in this show even if she doesn’t go near his killer dick. Poor Sam. On a more positive note he DID get some distance from Dean in 12x22 and symbolically the toxic co-dependency has been broken. So that is one major point to mark off. (I didn’t actually even wish for that as I doubted it would happen myself!) Shame about him still not getting a dog though. WHY CAN’T YOU GIVE SAM A DOG DAMMIT! Sam has definitely moved forward in season 12 to a healthier place, though I think he still has far to go compared to Dean. Hopefully we will see him reach his full potential in season 13.

Wish 7. Lady T is a well developed, fully rounded, likeable character and not a sexy lamp or boring love interest - I already love her. I want to know more about her, her motivations, her back story, how she became a woman of letters, I want her to be a worthy adversary to the Winchesters before becoming a trustworthy ally. I want her to continue to take none of their shit, to put them in their place and therefore earn their respect. I also really want to see her face of with Rowena. That would be awesome. England vs Scotland right there! Potentially I would accept her becoming a love interest to Sam only if it was done right. If it was done in the subtext throughout the season and is only a very very tiny part of the storyline. It would have to be major slow burn. No forced kisses like in CACW (did you guys see that? what the fuck was that?). Only then, would I accept any sort of romantic sub-plot between characters.

In Hindsight: *ugly cries into pillow over how off the mark this was*

Fuck you Bucklemming.

Wish 8. More screen time for Dean and Cas = DESTIEL - Well obviously. It wouldn’t be a proper supernatural wishlist if it didn’t have Destiel written in big letters somewhere now would it? After all the build up in Season 11 in the subtext I am still convinced that this is going somewhere. The season finale has NOT destroyed my positivity at all. In fact it has only added to it. (come ask me about it if you want more info). At the end of the day, Dean and Cas are going to have to save Sam. This means spending time together trying to FIND Sam in a completely unknown city (hence my excitement over them renting a car and getting stuck on the M25 before ending up lost in somewhere like Surrey… Oh the fanfiction potential! I can practically taste it! I have faith in Dabb to bring us more destiel moments. he has always been good to us.

In Hindsight: *stops crying*

*jumps around in glee*

*remembers the end of 12x23*

*cries again*

Do I even need to talk about it? Every good wishlist should include destiel, but I NEVER would have predicted what they gave us. I NEVER would have seen it coming…

Mixtaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappppppppppeeeeeeeeeeeeee

But seriously though? With the pining over each other in 12x09, the angel/human love stories and human weakness of 12x10, the LOVE CONFESSION of 12x12 and the MIXTAPE (among other amazing moments) in 12x19 where do I even START with season 12 destiel?!? The fact that they have ended it like they have KNOWING Cas is coming back… I mean… it is BEYOND ANYTHING I COULD HAVE DREAMED UP. There is a reason we call it season fanfic 12. Holy crap it was glorious. I’m marking this a big YES for the wishlist.

Wish 9. Following on from the above… HUNTER CAS - Dabb brought us the wonderful episode Hunteri Heroci which had Cas try out his hunting skills (and save the day I might add). We know Dabb loves Cas. I have every reason to believe that Cas will get more time as a Hunter. I want him in MOTW episodes. He will be soooo good in MOTW episodes please please PLEASE let this happen! (especially if the MOTW episodes are set in BRITAIN because the boys are still out there dealing with the MOL and the Grand Coven…. I see them dealing with ghosts that are 1000 years old and haunting freaking castles… it will be glorious.)

In Hindsight: Does “Agent Beyonce” count as Hunter Cas? Because I want to count it. It may not have been on the level of Hunteri Heroici, but I loved his grumpy married couple bickering with Dean at the start of the season, the lumberjack comment? That was genius. Give us more stuff like that SPN PLEASE.

Wish 10. More funny episodes - More witches doing ridiculous things to the boys. Give me ACTUAL MOOSE SAM WINCHESTER PLEASE! Give me the kind of silly witch stories we have been reading about in fanfics for far too long… come on show, its season 12! What have you got to loose?

In Hindsight: Well, 12x11 was witches and was pretty funny whilst being equally heart breaking. Plus it gave us the wonderful end scene of Dean riding Larry to his hearts content. None of us are gonna forget that in a hurry. I think it counts. Even though I am still royally pissed off that they killed Rowena. *sigh*

We do have a Scooby Doo animated episode in season 13 though which again I never ever would have considered possible but heyho, they love to surprise us.

Wish 11. Beach Episode - This is purely for @elizabethrobertajones. Maybe once they are done in Britain, they’ll head off to the med for a true European beach experience… They’ll be fine as long as they have Cas with them. He speaks all the languages. He can order the cocktails and ice creams. ;-)

In Hindsight: I TAKE IT BACK. NO BEACH EPISODES EVER AGAIN. Sometimes I swear Dabb lurks on Lizzy’s blog to read the kind of stuff we are dreaming up just so he can grant our wishes in the MOST PAINFUL WAY EVER. Cas DIED on a beach. All Dean wanted was to visit a beach once in his life, but they KILLED CAS on a BEACH. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO US DABB? WHY?

*continues sobbing into pillow*

Stay tuned for my Season 13 Wishlist... Once I stop crying...

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Time: Chapter 1

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions and hordes of death robots occur and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language, violence, death, guns Word Count: 2,301 A/N: I’m back, friends. I hope you enjoy! Things I never thought I’d be doing at 5 am: looking up gun models and how to shoot them. Also, Steve’s middle name is Grant.

Masterlist // Next Chapter

2012, New York City

You’d thought about moving many times. New York was nice, but way expensive. You owned a small coffee shop in The Village. The property had been in your family for generations. It was stable enough now, after five years of hard work, that you weren’t worried about it falling apart if you weren’t physically there to look after it. You’d looked at some places a little farther north, and even a couple places on the west coast near Seattle, Portland, and San Francisco. A change of scenery was something you needed after living in the Big City your whole life. Now, you’d wished you had.

Debris rained down around you as you ran away from Midtown Manhattan. To where, you weren’t entirely sure. Away from the murderous aliens on speeding hovercar contraptions was a good first step. It was the end of the world, you were sure. Unlike everyone else, who’d gawked dumbly at the sky when a giant beam of light shot up from Stark Tower and ripped a whole in reality, you had run. You’d seen enough horror and sci-fi films to know when shit was about to hit the fan. Some people might have once you thought silly for putting stock into the fantasy world of comic books and movies, but you argued that you practically did live in one with men like Tony Stark and Captain America around. Hell, the Captain even had trading cards.

You weren’t sure how much of a head start you got, but it didn’t feel like much of one. Within two minutes of the portal opening in the sky, the aliens had come pouring through the streets. People ducked behind cars and upturned patio tables in an attempt to survive the barrage of energy blasts coming from the aliens’ guns. Your lungs burned as you ran through the streets of Greenwich Village.

You ducked into your coffee shop, narrowly avoiding the blast of an alien’s gun. A few patrons were cowering under the tables, bags clutched in their hands in front of them like shields.

“May! Get everyone into the back,” you yelled, locking the door behind you. You were thankful you’d sprung for nice, stylish, sturdy metal doors. As much as you missed the beautiful old oak ones, these would hold much better against energy blasts... or so you’d hoped. May and Dean’s heads popped up from behind the marble counter, eyes wide with fear.

“Boss, what’s happen-” May began.

“Now, May! Dean, you start closing the shutters. It’ll be harder for them to get in if there’re metal bars in the way,” you barked. They didn’t move. “Now!” you growled. “Unless you don’t like living anymore!”

That seemed to return the feeling to their legs. May hopped up, urging the customers to follow her into the back room, which led to a sturdy cellar that might hold out if they started dropping heavier artillery. Thank god for World War Two architecture. Dean reluctantly left his spot behind the counter but ran speedily towards the front of the shop and began closing the metal shutters on the two large front windows.

“Turn the tables on their sides once you’re done- they’ll give us some cover and turn into obstacles for those ugly bastards,” you direct him. You pushed past petrified customers and ran into the back room. You silently thanked your Papi for being way too paranoid and a little bit of a hick as you opened the large safe hidden behind some of your store’s merchandise. You punched in the last number and wrenched the door open, eyes scanning the guns inside.

Before he’d died, he’d shown you how to load and shoot all five of the guns. He’d kept a small army’s worth of ammunition inside the safe with them, and as much anxiety as that had caused you once upon a time, you were grateful for it now. You loaded the Glock 26 Gen 3 and placed it on top of the safe as you loaded one of the shotguns- a Remington 870. A hand on your shoulder startled you and you swiveled, ready to fight for your life.

May flinched, arms coming up to defend herself. You breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, Boss,” she said, eyes wide, dark curly hair messier than usual, obscuring her pretty face.

“It’s alright, May. You know how to shoot a gun?” you asked, picking up the Glock.

“No, ma’am,” she asked, paling.

“Alright, it’s pretty simple. Hold it with both hands, keep your arms straight, aim, pull the trigger,” you said, handing her the gun carefully. “That Glock has no safety. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” you said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she stared at you, horrified.

“Dean, get in here!” you yelled through the doorway. He appeared a moment later, cheeks flushed from the exertion of turning the cafe on its head.

“Do you know how to shoot a gun?” you asked him, picking up the Remington.

“My dad took me shooting once when I was ten,” he asked, looking from you to the shotgun in confusion.

“Alright, do you remember what you used?”

“A handgun, I think?” he said, doubtful.

You sighed. “Alright. This isn’t anything like a handgun except in that it also succeeds at killing things with metal and gunpowder. You see this?“ You asked, pointing to the lower tube. He nodded. “This is the magazine. I have four shots loaded,” A terrifying, loud explosion rattled the floor beneath you. May and Dean’s eyes widened in fear, heads swiveling for the source of the noise. “Focus!” you barked. Their gazes snapped back to you. “Four shots loaded. There are eight more on the butt of the gun here,” you said, pointing to the shells strapped to the side. “Keep count of your shots. When you run out or get a minute, you can reload here,” you explained, flipping the gun over to show where one could load it. You popped another shell into the magazine, demonstrating for him so he would hopefully remember. “Five shots, now. Here.” you said, handing it to him. He stared at you blankly, not taking the gun, face pale. You groaned, shoulders sagging. 

“I know, Dean. Shit’s fucked six ways to Sunday, but you need to focus. I’m terrified, too. But if you think those alien bastards are going to take me down without a fight, you’re mistaken,” you said, shoving the gun to his chest. “Fight. For. Your. Life,” you said forcefully, staring him down. He gulped and nodded, taking the gun from you. “Good man. Brace the gun to your right shoulder. Stare down it to aim. Pull the pump back to load a shell into the chamber. Push it back forward into place to finish loading it. Pull the trigger to fire. Rinse and repeat,” you said, turning back to the safe to finish loading the last of the guns. You loaded the Colt Python revolver for yourself, jamming it in the back of your pant’s waistband, internally cringing at the breach of gun safety. You loaded the other Glock, placing it on top of the safe. At last, all that was left was the Ruger 10/22  Semi-automatic. You threw its strap over your head and onto your shoulder, gun on your back, and handed May and Dean boxes of ammunition.

“I pray to whoever might be listening that they don’t make it through those doors, but if they do, we have to be as ready as possible,” You said, grabbing ammunition for your three guns. May and Dean nodded. You could see it on their faces; They were determined but afraid. You internally cursed at the travesty of gun safety as your jammed the Glock into the front of your waistband. Desperate times and all that. You peeked into the store. Whatever had caused the explosion hadn’t seemed to affect your store. You took up a defensive position behind the counter. “May, you’re going to be shooting whatever comes through the windows or door, with me. If it gets closer, let Dean take care of it. The shotgun is better at close range- tiny death pellets’ll rain hell down upon ‘em from that thing. You just focus on trying to make sure they don’t make it that far. Keep your head down as much as possible. Try not to pop up in the same spot- they’ll expect it. Got that?” you said, glancing at the two of them next to you, sitting beside each other. They nodded, unconsciously reaching for each other’s hands. Huh. You wondered when that had happened. “Don’t get dead, guys,” you said, standing to rest your arms on the counter to help steady your aim. “If we survive this we’re going out to a fancy restaurant for dinner- I’m buying,” you said winking down at them. They both gave you a brave smile. You turned your attention back to the door, trying to ignore the fear in the back of your mind. You wondered if you had been a soldier in one of your past lives- it might explain why you were able to stay calm even though every nerve in your body was screaming at you to run. But you had a shop full of customers downstairs. People with friends, family. Who had no hope of defending themselves. You refused to stand by and let yourself and others be killed.

The aliens that had been clambering over their dead companions suddenly dropped, lifeless. You stared at them in disbelief, waiting for them to move again. You hadn’t shot them. After a minute, when they didn’t so much as twitch, you rose up from behind the counter slowly. You raised your revolver and fired a round straight into the chest of the one closest to you that had been alive a moment ago.

Not so much as an eyelid flutter or gasp of breath. No hiss of pain.

Next to you, Dean was sobbing, clutching May’s lifeless body to his chest, gun forgotten at his side. His hand grasped hers, his lips placing tender kisses to her umber knuckles and forehead, begging her to wake up. His fingers tangled into her messy mop of curly black hair. Her dark, glassy eyes stared up at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

You sunk down to the floor next to them, adrenaline leaving your body now that there wasn’t an immediate threat in front of you. “She’s gone, Dean,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

“No, no! She can’t be- She-” he broke off, sobbing as he rocked back and forth, clutching her to his chest. It was like he didn’t see that a sizeable chunk of her chest was missing, vaporized by a shot with one of the alien’s guns. “She was my soul mate,” he whispered in a choked voice.

“Oh hell, Dean... I had no idea. You never told me,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“We only just found out recently... asked to see each other’s soul brand... We both thought it might be each other, y’know?” He smiled faintly at the thought. It slid off his face as he returned the present. “Sure enough, our initials were on each other’s brand. When I saw D.A.H. there on her skin... I was the happiest man on earth. She saw her own initials and-” he sobbed and tears dripped down onto May’s face. “-I’ll never forget her smile. She-” he broke off, unable to stop the sobs as they wracked his body. You wrapped your arms around them both, ignoring the acrid scent of burning flesh coming from May’s body and rubbed circles into his back. There were no words of comfort you could give him. Losing one’s soulmate was nearly worse than dying. And he had watched it happen in front of him. He’d been unable to protect he and she’d died helping defend him. The only comfort they had was that they might meet again in their next lives. But that wouldn’t be very comforting to him. They were both young, fresh out of high school, working at your cafe to save money for college. He would have to go through the rest of his life without her.

You held him as he cried out everything he had, clutching his dead soul mate to his chest. Something in the corner caught your eye. The TV had turned back on, broadcasts returning to inform everyone of the situation. Apparently a group called The Avengers had closed the portal and stopped a nuke from destroying the city. Allegedly, as soon as the portal closed, all of the aliens had dropped dead. If you hadn’t seen it happen with your own two eyes, you wouldn’t have believed a word of it. Whatever The Avengers did stopped them, though. You felt your breathing stop as a choppy, grainy video of a man and woman fighting in the streets of New York came on. She wore a suit made entirely of black leather and was expertly killing aliens with one of their own weapons.

The man was who truly caught your attention, though. Even though the outfit had changed a bit, you recognized him immediately. You’d heard rumors he was back, found preserved like some sort of human popsicle in a huge iceberg near Greenland or something. You hadn’t dared to believe. But there he was, fighting aliens on New York streets. Your heart ached, one of your past lives recognizing him as the love of its life. You sighed, melancholy. You glanced down at your wrist. In your mind’s eye, you could see the initials S.G.R written there beneath the scrap of fabric you kept it hidden with.

Chapter 2

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out  this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

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[casscutting]

Best and Worst Reads of 2019

Let’s talk about books baby…

Before I get into my favorite and least favorite reads of 2019 I want to talk about the rating system that I adopted halfway through the year. I now use the CAWPILE method which I got from G. over at Book Roast on Youtube though I’ve changed it some.

CAWPILE breaks down a book into 7 different categories:

C = Characters Backstory Growth Arc Did you feel like you knew them? Were you invested? A = Atmosphere World Building W = Writing Style Did you like the Writing Style? P = Plot Did you like the plot? Were you able to follow it? I = Immersion Did the book keep your attention? Did you want to keep reading? L = Logic Did things make sense to you in the context of the story? E = Enjoyment Did you enjoy this book?

Now here’s where I made changes G. rates each section out of 10 then does some math to make it fit into the Goodreads 0-5 start scale. I, on the other hand, wanted something more simple so I rate my categories out of 5 stars then add each section up then divide by 7 (because there are 7 categories) For example:

Here is my break down of The Young Queens by Kendare Blake, which I loved but wasn’t one of my fav’s of the year.

C = Characters 3 Stars A = Atmosphere 5 Stars W = Writing Style 5 Stars P = Plot 5 Stars I = Immersion  5 Stars L = Logic  5 Stars E = Enjoyment  5 Stars = 33 out of 35 33 devided by 7 is 4.712% which makes my raiting for the book a 4.75 out of 5 stars.

I wanted to start off this post by going over my favorite and least books of 2019, let’s start chronologically with my favorites:

In an Absent Dream by Seanan McGuire 5 out of 5 stars

This is the fourth installment in the Wayward Children series or novellas. For those that don’t know these books follow children that have made their way into portal worlds like Oz and Wonderland but have for one reason or another been spit back out into our world. The kids usually cant readjust so they are sent to special boarding schools. The one school, in particular, is Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children. The first three played off each other whereas this one we follow a child we haven’t met in other books. If fact this book takes place years before the first three books in the series.

In an Absent Dream follows Lundy, a very serious young girl who would rather study and dream than become a respectable housewife and live up to the expectations of the world around her. As well she should.

When she finds a doorway to a world founded on logic and reason, riddles and lies, she thinks she's found her paradise. Alas, everything costs at the goblin market, and when her time there is drawing to a close, she makes the kind of bargain that never plays out well.

NOTE* I read this book prior to adopting my new rating system but I think my rating would be somewhere between 4.5-5 stars with my new system.

The Savior's Champion by Jenna Moreci 5 out of 5 stars both times with a CAWPILE rating of 35

This is a self-published book that in my opinion would rival any traditionally published work. The Savior's Champion is the first in a series of which I can’t wait for more to come out... This story had me hooked from the first chapter which I read before it came out in 2018. I got this book on Audio and the narrator Nick Denton, who is a sweetheart by the way, is amazing.

This book follows Tobias Kaya doesn't care about The Savior. He doesn't care that She's the Ruler of the realm or that She purified the land, and he certainly doesn't care that She's of age to be married. But when competing for Her hand proves to be his last chance to save his family, he's forced to make The Savior his priority.

Now Tobias is thrown into the Sovereign's Tournament with nineteen other men, and each of them is fighting -- and killing -- for the chance to rule at The Savior's side. Instantly his world is plagued with violence, treachery, and manipulation, revealing the hidden ugliness of his proud realm. And when his circumstances seem especially dire, he stumbles into an unexpected romance, one that opens him up to unimaginable dangers and darkness.

Trigger warning: this novel contains graphic violence, adult language, and sexual situations.

The Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons 5 out of 5 stars both times with a CAWPILE rating of 35

This is the first book in a high fantasy series (or trilogy I don’t really know which lol) The story grabbed me right away but it did take a second to get used to because you are following Kihrin through two parts of his life and the story jumps from the past to the present throughout the book. I listened to this book on audio and it was amazing. The THREE narrators (Vikas Adam (Kihrin), Feodor Chin (Thurvishar), and Soneela Nankani (Talon)) were amazing and I only hope book 2 and eventually book 3 will have the same VOA’s

Kihrin grew up in the slums of Quur, a thief and a minstrel's son raised on tales of long-lost princes and magnificent quests. When he is claimed against his will as the missing son of a treasonous prince, Kihrin finds himself at the mercy of his new family's ruthless power plays and political ambitions.

Practically a prisoner, Kihrin discovers that being a long-lost prince is nothing like what the storybooks promised. The storybooks have lied about a lot of other things, too: dragons, demons, gods, prophecies, and how the hero always wins.

Then again, maybe he isn't the hero after all. For Kihrin is not destined to save the world.

He's destined to destroy it.

Now on to the ones you really care about, I know you just skipped to this part…

I only had three disappointing reads this year and one of them was a re-try that I had DNFed when I got the ARC.

Genuine Fraud by E. Lockhart DNFed AGAIN

Imogen is a runaway heiress, an orphan, a cook, and a cheat. Jule is a fighter, a social chameleon, and an athlete. An intense friendship. A disappearance. A murder, or maybe two. A bad romance, or maybe three. Blunt objects, disguises, blood, and chocolate. The American dream, superheroes, spies, and villains. A girl who refuses to give people what they want from her. A girl who refuses to be the person she once was.

I first got this book as an ARC back before it came out (obviously)  I got 50 pages in and I wanted to rip my hair out that’s how much I was disliking it. So I thought that maybe Mystery-Thrillers weren’t for me. But now having a few under my belt and I’m liking these genres I’d give it another go especially since some of my favorite book bloggers and booktubers really enjoyed it.

Oh boy was I WRONG. I made it to that same spot and wanted to rip my hair out but I thought no keep going maybe it will get better. Wrong again, the MC was bland and boring and found myself wishing she would adopt a good personality or really any personality at all would be a vast improvement over who she was portraying at any given time. I didn’t care about the plot or her backstory or why she was hiding.

So I DNFed this book for a second time at around 100 pages.

The Umbrella Academy, Vol. 1: The Apocalypse Suite by Gerard Way 1 out of 5 stars

In an inexplicable worldwide event, forty-seven extraordinary children were spontaneously born to women who'd previously shown no signs of pregnancy. Millionaire inventor Reginald Hargreeves adopted seven of the children; when asked why, his only explanation was, "To save the world."

These seven children form the Umbrella Academy, a dysfunctional family of superheroes with bizarre powers. Their first adventure at the age of ten pits them against an erratic and deadly Eiffel Tower, piloted by the fearsome zombie-robot Gustave Eiffel. Nearly a decade later, the team disbands, but when Hargreeves unexpectedly dies, these disgruntled siblings reunite just in time to save the world once again.

This may have been partly my fault because I watched the Netflix adaptation before I knew the source material existed. I LOVED the show, it is hands down one of my new favorites but the graphic novel wasn’t well put together. I have been reading graphic novels and comics my whole life and I know you’re not getting a novel with dialogue and story spelled out for you. I know that there is a harmony between what is written and the art but the artist had to work twice as hard to convey the story. What little written word was there wasn’t the best.

I did like the art style it was fun and really the only thing that kept me going thought out this volume. I won’t continue in the series as far as the graphic novel is concerned but I am highly anticipating the next season of the show.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum 2 out of 5 stars

When Dorothy and her little dog Toto are caught in a tornado, they and their Kansas farmhouse are suddenly transported to Oz, where Munchkins live, monkeys fly and Wicked Witches rule. Desperate to return home, and with the Wicked Witch of the West on their trail, Dorothy and Toto - together with new friends the Tin Woodsman, Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion - embark on a fantastic quest along the Yellow Brick Road in search of the Emerald City. There they hope to meet the legendary, all-powerful Wizard of Oz, who alone may hold the power to grant their every wish.

I grew up with both the movies and had been a huge fan since childhood. The filmmakers took a lot of successful liberties with this story and were able to convey everything so much better than Baum. My least favorite part was the Witches of Oz, the Wicked Witch of the West she seemed more like a stern grandmother than an evil witch, though she had her moments with the Tin Man, Lion, and the Scarecrow.

But I will continue in the series because it is a goal of mine to read them all.

[d-erica]

worth living

Life is as beautiful as you can possibly make it out to be.Life is very much taken for granted. But everyones perspective is different. We can deny it as much as we want, but the ugly truth is that at some point almost everyone has sat in their bed in complete darkness and hoped and prayed for a better or just in general a different life. But we didnt magically get that now did we? No. This post is primarily my past perspective on life. I dont know if anyone else has felt or at least thought in this same way, but this is my input. Now I am not going to sit here and write lies saying that my life was consistent of good or of bad. Childhood was really weird and awkward for me. My memory has blocked alot of those earlier days out primarily because I never learned the basics of being in touch with my emotions so yes in elementary i had bestfriends, but what everyone else felt it seemed kind of impossible and foreign to me. I didnt understand the meaning of hugs and of saying the words ‘’ I love you’’. Saying the word ‘’bye’’ always rubbed me off the wrong way because I knew at a young age that when i said  that word to my dad before he was stationed overseas in the air force that that potentionally could be the last time that Id be considered ‘’daddys little girl’’. I knew too soon that things couldnt be perfect forever so I already started putting up a wall trying to  protect myself from any harm or abandonment. I grew up with the same routine all the way up to high school avoiding certain interactions and any type of physical affection. I came off as nonchalant or as alot of people would refer to me as ‘’emotionless’’. I knew for a fact that I had emotions and some type of heart deep down inside of me somewhere. My comedy made up for the missing aspects of me i guess. At least for awhile. Fast forward to sophmore year of high school. Something in me changed, it was like a switch. Sixteen years of built up anger, disgust, sadness all came and took control over my entire mind,body,and soul. The funny, lively side of me people once loved changed, people saw the drastic change. I knew they knew something was wrong, and alot of people tried their best to uplift me but no matter what they said. I was still me, I was still the only one in my head. I made myself think and feel like I was all in this alone and that i couldnt get pulled out of this rut. I was just so bitter to the world, just so over basically everything. For someone who used to cry twice a year, i started to cry like five times a day everyday of each month in that time frame. These feelings went on for such a long time that I started to hate myself for me being so uncontrollably sad and weak all of the time. My grades in school went down and down. My family life was at the peak of being the worse thing Ive ever had to see. I think i was just overall disgusted with the way I allowed myself to bury myself in my bed and my feelings without seeking or reaching out for help. During the time frame, I lost all ability or energy to go to school, sleep at night causing my extreme insomnia even now to this day, perform my best at my job, be happy in public settings with friends, leave my room to show my face to my family, and mainly stopped eating and drinking appropriately, I lost like fifty pounds just during the time of being so numb and hopeless. My bones became brittle so I could sometimes barely stand without feeling like falling over. This basically just gave people bigger and stronger than me the green light to sexually abuse and psychically abuse me. Everyday it seemed like another thing to break me. Months went by and I just grew tired. Absolutely tired, exhausted, literally depression won over and over again. My mind shifted from feeling utterly lonely to developing to mental nightmares. No matter how much trauma Ive witnessed or been through, my thoughts are what ruined me, No one else did that to me. Only thing that went through my head was how and what was the easiest way i could possibly die, I didnt want this life. Obviously the odds werent in my favor. Obviously I was a lost cause because no matter what loved ones said or did it didnt stick with me throughout my whole day. Therapy didnt help probalby because I sat there stubborn for two hours with blank eyes, they offered prescriptions that seemed like placebo. ‘’ Here take this when you wake up every morning so you can start off with a clear mind.’’ Yall know how hard it is to look in the face of a therapist you had since seventh grade and hold back the words ‘’ Mrs. Witherspoon I dont plan on waking up in the morning, Im really tired you know.’’ I never told her that and couldnt bring myself to say ‘’bye’ because it brought me back to childhood where I knew itd be the last time. I wrote my notes to individual people. I knew what action I was going to take that night to finally put things and myself to rest. I was on the edge of putting myself at peace then like in a split second difference I got a ft call that I didnt answer. Seeing the name of the person made me stop in my tracks though and something told me to check my messages and look at the previous loving paragraphs Ive ever gotten. I just could not continue. I knew the people in my life didnt deserve the heartache and confusion that would be left after my self afflicted passing. I burned the handwritten goodbye notes and went to sleep . I vowed that I wouldnt put myself in that situation ever again. Yes, things in my life didnt magically improve but I did try to look at things in a different manner. Months went past and I wasnt in as a bad place anymore, but I just wasnt fit for some relationships anymore because it was just unfair to give half of me all the time when people did nothing but give me love and sense of patience all the time. I guess there was alot of pressure to be perfect and it sort of started messing with my mind seeing everyone happy and wondering why Im not i guess. People definitely deserve better than what I ever had to offer, I wish nothing but the best for anyone who has stuck with me in the times around a year ago. Fast forward it is the middle of senior year and I am really happy right now. Ive gained alittle weight, I feel beautiful in my own skin, my grades are so muc better. I should get at least three to four cords at graduation from my honor society clubs here this upcoming spring .Isolating myself in a positive way and letting go of bad situations and coping mechanisms was the best decision I have done. Lately Ive been taking one day at a time. This transformation definitely wasnt overnight, it was like a two year process. Even though some things from those times are still hard to think about, im forever grateful for the hardships and obstacles. Life experiences definitely has shaped me into the young woman I am now, I was kind of mature before everything but this definitely pushed me to see clearly and handle things with more thought and overall process of how and when to react. I used to pray that I could have a diiferent life and even though this is not exactly what I meant, It is still really good at the moment. Ive reconnected with some people from the past, and Ive also attracted more people recently who have come my bestfriends, Things do look up eventually. Life is truly what YOU make it.

[v-le]

An Ugly Wall of Text from Your Average Inspirit

Hello friends, it seems as if my impulsive posts are more common than my carefully structured and articulated ones these days.

Despite being deep into Week 2 of UC right now, the past happenings with the Infinite members have pushed me to especially look for an outlet to unleash my somewhat “rampant” emotions.

Yesterday, I discovered that basically all the Infinite members (besides Sungyeol at the moment), went on an “unfollow Hoya on Instagram and delete all pictures of him and OT7” spree. As a foreword, I am not saying that I know exactly what happened, nor do I want to pose any viable answers. I simply want to talk about how this makes me feel.

First, Infinite has grown significantly, no, immensely since I first started following them around 2011. It is now almost 2018. To put this concisely, I loved them back then, and I love them even more today. I have matured 7 years since then, and so have they. There were admittedly times in between the years where I was too busy with school, too tired, just too caught up with life, to even pay much attention to them. But never once did I take their existence for granted. I had full faith (or maybe just too much hope) that they would always be there for as long as they could.

During the summer of this year, I began creating an “Infinite Appreciation Post”, which I never exactly got around to finishing due to various reasons (procrastination being the biggest one). Here is the rough draft that I had composed:

After much procrastination, I’ve finally sat down and decided to create this! My journey with Infinite literally grew alongside with my Korean music roots way back in the day. With the passing of their 7th anniversary, and their unfortunately prolonged contract discussion, I found the need to make this post hurriedly. Without further ado…

 THIS IS INFINITE

Adorkable

If you’ve watched Infinite enough on variety shows and other things, you would know that these boys are absolute goofballs. Honestly there are so many memorable moments that have made me laugh/cry, but they’re mostly from their earlier days because, yes, I admit, it was extremely hard to keep up these past 2-ish years with school & such.

A few (of MANY) favorite moments:

I’m not a monkey, but i love     banana

Jjik-jjik boy

Name all the members in     5-sec(?)

“L L L L L L !!” “.......why is     the answer L?”

INFINITE H’s Milk song

Gwiyomi Song Sungyeol Ver.

GAE SHAMPOO

Just Dongwoo laughing

Infinite watching fetus     INFINITE videos

Hoya’s eleupantery skool

   Discography

I admit that Kpop is not really my preference anymore, but when it was, Infinite’s music blew me away. Their sound back in the day was distinct, almost a sort of 80’s style twist, with consistent synths, well-structured progression, and vocals that gave a strong impact. Their songs were, and still are, nothing short of catchy. My all-time favorite Infinite song will most probably be Shot. There is not one second in that song that doesn’t sound like absolute perfection. I think it is safe to say that as of mid-2014, probably starting with Back (or maybe if we go even farther, say Destiny era??), Infinite’s tracks have transformed into mixtures of EDM and orchestral bravados(?). If anything, it is quite unconventional, quite bold, but nonetheless still  Infinite-esque, and of course, catchy.

A few (of many) honorable mentions in no particular order:

Can U Smile (Acoustic Ver.)

The Chaser

Molla

I Like You

Feel So Bad

Rosinante

Sonagi

Last Romeo

Still I Miss You

ZERO

Air

3분의1

Request

Missing You

Inception

Paradise

Hysterie

Wings

Entrust

Infinite’s (Korean) discography is probably one of the only Kpop boy band discographies that I know like the back of my hand. They have created real masterpieces.

 Performances

Infinite’s stage presence is… indescribable. Just watch for yourself. These boys know what they’re doing, and they know that they’re good at it. Whether it be intense dance routines, emotional ballad renditions, or simply a stellar title song performance, Infinite will really, truly, never fail to captivate the audience (which I have been blessed to be a part of twice back in 2013 & 2014). Also, I’d like to give special recognition to  their Immortal Songs Performances because those are on a whole other level. I always wonder, idols, or genuine artists??? Or BOTH?

A few (of many) legendary performances:

Please Don’t by K.Will ft.     INFINITE H

60 Seconds by INFINITE

Be Mine by INFINITE

Still I Miss You by INFINITE

Acoustic Medley by INFINITE

Freeze by INFINITE

Thank You by INFINITE

Sonagi by INFINITE

IS2 Faves

Busan Seagull by INFINITE H

Day ‘Till the Sun Rises by     Sunggyu & Woohyun

In the Rain by INFINITE H

By Woohyun

 OTPs

Who doesn’t love to ship a few beautiful bromances now and then? Honestly, I feel like these boys are so close that they can probably pull off an OTP with each and every member. BUT, here are some of legendary ones:

Woogyu

Myungyeol

Yadong

Myungjong

Woosoo

2Woo

Hoyeol

Gyujong

 Little did I know that a month and a half later, my world would fall apart. The key point I am trying to get at here is that, with all my heart’s devotion, with an undying burn, I supported Infinite even as the years trickled by. I missed them, cherished them, waited for them, believed in them, and thanked them. Thanked them thousands and thousands of times in my head. I knew how much it meant for a 2nd generation kpop group like them to still be alive & whole since debut, and I was so eternally thankful for that.

 I say this all the time, but I never in the slightest expected a member to leave. Not after everything they’ve been through and everything they’ve said. But knowing their personalities and their “brotherhood”, I think it’s safe to say that we all assumed they separated on more or less good terms. Especially since this decision took 3 months to come to, they probably all discussed this extensively and came to an agreement, right…?

And now, the members have explicitly shown a somewhat bold reaction by unfollowing Hoya & deleting pictures of him and the group as whole from their Instagram.

CREDITS: @NASH357_ on Twitter

I’ll say this blatantly: I get that Hoya is no longer a part of Infinite or has any association with them, but you cannot delete photos of him and the entire group as if the past seven years never happened.

I don’t know why or who (if anyone specific) was behind this, and I don’t think anyone will ever really know. Whether the members were forced to do this, and if they, in fact, still talk to Hoya on personal terms, we will never know.

However, I don’t think cutting public ties like that fixes anything. It just made me feel even more conflicted.

 The faith that I had in Infinite was overwhelming. Pardon my excessiveness, but no matter how petty or immature I sound, I want to make it clear that, yes, I fell right into their “We’ll last forever together” trap. Because why wouldn’t I? Is it me being naïve or is the world just being cruel? I think it’s the latter.

The first major emotion I feel is sadness. Pure depression. I wish every single day that all of this was just a bad nightmare. That all of this was just a big accident and that Hoya will return one day. I wish with all my heart that all seven of them are still together. That’s all I want. Together. All 7. Not 6. 7 is everything, everything is 7. But I know that will never happen, and that makes me indescribably sad.

Next, I feel like I’ve been tricked. I feel like I’ve blindly believed in the lies of boys that kept promises they couldn’t keep. I should’ve seen this coming, considering the trends of all the 2nd gen. kpop groups these days. But at the same time, no, I had way too much faith in them. I told myself they’d never end up like the rest of them. That Infinite was different. But they weren’t. They weren’t, and aren’t, different in the slightest.  I feel almost stupid, for putting so much faith into them. Why did I invest so much hope into their future? Was it even necessary? Why did I fall in so deep, when I was bound to get cut anyway? On the other hand, a perfectly reasonable answer: because I am their fan.

Lastly, I feel conflicted. I’m wavering between the urge to scream and cry, or maybe do both?? WHY? Just why? Why did this have to happen to my ultimate group? Why did I have to watch the world fall apart on August 29th, 2017? All I really know is that I miss Infinite. I miss all of them, and even though I kept repeating that phrase throughout the summer while they were taking ages to renew their contracts, little did I know that I would be saying it for the rest of eternity now.

In all honesty, I actually had a fleeting moment of thought in which I almost wanted to give up on them altogether. Not just Hoya, but Infinite, too, just all of them. I wanted to drop this Inspirit gig and completely convert to following singer-songwriters and real musicians like I basically already do. Infinite was my last kpop straw. I never ever, ever, thought I would ever think like that. I almost began to fear myself, because how could I think to throw away everything so quickly, over Instagram followings???

 In conclusion, I am clearly still not really okay. It’s been a little over a month since Hoya left, but my world is still tipped upside down. I’m still really lost, I still really miss Infinite, and I just…. I’m still really traumatized.

  But I’m sure, just like anything and anyone else, I will get over this with time. Time will fade the lines between anger and sadness and I’ll think of this event as just a bad day. Or at least I hope. I’ll get through this. And if you’re in the same boat as me, don’t worry, you will, too! And if you thought I was just plain crazy throughout this entire rant and just judged me the entire way through, it’s okay! Think what you want, but all that really tells me is that you’re not a true fan anyway :’). True fans can’t pick up their heads and smile and tell the rest of the world to get over it that fast. So please, let my lamenting self be. It’ll be okay, one day.

[kymkral]

the sixth one:  Tom Made Me 1/29/17

My father, Tom, was a complicated man. Colorful, some might say. He stood about six feet, four inches tall and had the kindest eyes. They were hazel, small and a little bit beady, but kind. He was thin all over expect for a prominent beer belly which often reminded me of what a pregnant man would look like. He terrified me. When my mother left, or he kicked her out, that story always varied depending which of the two you asked, he was granted full custody of me. Thus began the ballad of Tom and Kym. 

He was praised my entire life for stepping up to the plate and raising me when my mother was otherwise unable to. Something that back in those days was not too common. Usually the father leaves. Not mine. Mine stayed. I’m not sure if that was a good thing. 

Tom made me a tomboy. I always suspected Tom wished I were a boy, maybe more athletic, or maybe just normal, I was none of those things, and I still am not. He always wanted me to play basketball. My grandparents got me a basketball hoop for one of my preteen birthdays. We would spend a lot of nights practicing. I was terrible. I couldn’t run very fast, couldn’t steal the ball to save my life, and to top it off, I really could care less. One summer he made me do ten layups before I went to bed each night. If I missed one, I’d have to start over. Each night would result in me complaining with “I don’t want to play basketball!”  Which he would always follow with a stern “You’re tall, you have a knack”. I didn’t. In his defense I did develop a pretty mean layup and I’m pretty certain I could still pull a good one off now.  After his passing, I look back on nights like those, when he took an interest in me and I wish I were more grateful at the time. These were some of the good memories that weren’t painted over with abuse, alcohol or things I was too young to really comprehend. Nights like these are the bright spots in an otherwise shady childhood.

Tom made me self-sufficient. My first flat tire happened to be in our driveway when I was sixteen. I went inside to tell him. He looked up from his scotch and TV, as he often did, and said, “I don’t know why you’re in here, you have a driver’s manual, don’t you?” I marched outside and I changed that tire. Before you think he’s a total monster, he did come out and check the tire and gave me a few pointers on how to do it more quickly and efficiently the next time. Years later, when I got a flat, I changed it with no problem and no help from AAA on the 405 freeway, in high heels. Something I definitely called my father to brag about, but really with just the intention to get the validation I always sought after from him as a kid. No dice. He always expected me to be self sufficient, so things like this, things I was supposed to be able to do, came with very little validation. Between you and me, it broke my heart every time.

Tom made me cool. Freshmen year of college my dorm’s RA contacted everyone’s parents to ask them to send their kids care packages for Christmas our first year away from home. All the kids on my floor had moms, therefore they all got cookies and candy and whatever a mom puts in a care package. They all got loving notes filled with excitement of their child’s return home for the holidays. Mine was the smallest and by far the blandest. Tom didn’t even wrap it in Christmas paper. No card. Just written on the brown paper bag that he taped around my gift in a black sharpie: “Kym- Love Dad”. I was sad at first but that quickly passed as I was used to getting different things than my peers due to a lack of having a mom. I laugh out loud thinking of this now. I could have had a single dad that didn’t try at all, but he always tried. Since his passing I wish more and more I had told him how much that meant to me. I opened my small paper bag present to find The Beatles “1” CD.  It had just been released and most people didn’t even know it existed yet. Everyone on my floor dropped their cookies and cards and gathered around in complete jealousy. I was cool. I had the cool dad who taught me about cool music. I still have that CD and I play it on my archaic CD player while thinking of that night every single time, and I feel cool.

Tom made me love the Broncos. We’re from Denver, a place where 99.9% of the population bleeds orange and blue. I see John Elway on TV and I’m hardwired to cry. I went to so many games with Tom.  I remember sitting in the living room with Tom, my aunt and uncle with their kids watching the Broncos beat the Packers in the Super Bowl of 1997. That day will go down as one of my favorites and one of the days that wasn’t sprinkled with chaos. 

For Christmas Tom almost always gave me a Broncos jersey. I’d open it up and it was always so big I could wear it as a dress. I’d give him a funny look, he’d respond casually with “That’s Champ Bailey”. I would blankly look at him with “I know, but they make women’s jerseys now Dad”. His reply was always “nah, women don’t like football, you’re an anomaly”. Hey, I never said he wasn’t misogynistic. 

One season when I was working at a sports bar in Hollywood I got a package from him in the mail.  Inside were mustard yellow and black striped football socks. Enclosed was a note on a Post-it written in a black sharpie “The Broncos are going to wear these on Monday night for the game.  Wear them to work. They’re ugly-Love Dad”. 

When I was back visiting him in the days before he died he told me that the weirdest part about dying is that he wasn’t going to get to see how things were going to turn out. He was watching pre-season and he had no idea how the Broncos were going to do that year, and he never would. One of the biggest arguments he and I had was that win or lose he wanted a good game. Not me, I always wanted to blow the opposing team out of the water. A complete fucking blow out made me so happy. As I sat there looking at my deteriorating father, both of us with a cigarette in one hand and a scotch in the other, I told him I would dedicate each game to him in the upcoming season. That year, not only did the Broncos go to the Super Bowl and win, but I actually got to go to the Super Bowl. That was the first time I felt close to him after he had passed. Since then, I have become an even bigger fan than before, if that is even possible.

Tom made me feel ashamed. This isn’t really the sort of shame you are thinking, though there was quite a bit of that sprinkled throughout my childhood, I’ll save that type of shame for another day. This type of shame came from Tom wishing I were more popular, I think. He never came right out and said it but I had an inkling that it disappointed him. I didn’t get his popularity gene.  I got my mom’s weirdo gene. They rarely go hand in hand during one’s high school years. I was however a cheerleader. A total oxymoron. A nerdy cheerleader involved in theater. 

When it came time to take my freshmen year cheerleading team photos my dad, like the other moms, tagged along. We did our team photo and then our individuals. On its own the individual photos were a total nightmare as at the time I only stood five foot six inches tall (not tall to me as I’m now pushing six feet) and was all legs. In fact the cool kids used to yell, “Kym’s riding a chicken!” when I passed them in the halls. My hands and feet were huge-they can best be described as how a puppy has gigantic paws until he grows into the gargantuan Doberman he’s supposed to one day be. I had cheaply dyed blonde hair, more orangey and brassy, that was stringy and halfway curled despite my hard work with that damned curling iron. I still have no idea how to work those things.  I was completely flat chested, I mean literally and completely. I wasn’t even qualified to wear a training bra and I probably weighed about 85lbs. To top it off, I was missing the better part of my front teeth at the time.  See? Total nightmare. I have those photos buried in a locked trunk somewhere. No power on this earth will ever get me to show them to anyone.

I awkwardly got through the individual photos pretty unscathed, as my teammates had little to no interest in me. Next were the buddy photos. The girls quickly started plotting who would take pictures with who, while I silently sat there horrified that they wouldn’t ask me. It was elementary school gym class all over again. If you don’t get that reference, you were probably popular, congratulations. Tom watched the whole thing. I can only now as an adult imagine how embarrassed he was to have the nerdy daughter.   You’re probably thinking he wasn’t embarrassed, he loved you, trust me, I knew Tom better than anyone, and he was embarrassed. I finally got the courage to ask our team captain Brit if she would take a buddy photo with me. Brit was one of the most popular girls in our grade and although we definitely didn’t hang out with the same crowd she was always kind to me. She was beautiful and athletic. She had long brown hair, with brown eyes and a perfect smile. She said yes. I could tell it was out of pity and obligation, but I didn’t care, “I’ll take it!” I said to myself. 

On the way home that day Tom and I were quiet for most of the ride. Tom broke the silence with a tone that was a shade too insensitive, “So you don’t have any friends on the squad, do you?”  I have no idea how I responded to that question. I mean I wish I had said, “No shit, Tom, but thanks for pointing it out and rubbing it in.” Instead I felt the deep shame that I might have let him down. I wanted him to be proud of me. I wish I was more popular, more cool or whatever quality he definitely had in his youth. I didn’t. That killed me. 

Tom made me face reality. The year following the Columbine massacre my high school had their students wear nametags at all times. I grew up in Littleton, Colorado and attended a rival school just 10 minutes away from Columbine. The school told us these nametags were a tool to protect us. We were told that it would help the staff identify us if someone wasn’t supposed to be at the school. Our parents were told something entirely different.  The principal had a separate assembly for the parents where he explained that after the Columbine shooting it was very difficult to identify the bodies. Since my school had received so many death threats following that shooting they wanted to make sure, in the event we experienced the same tragedy, that the parents of my high school wouldn’t have to go through the same excruciating wait as the Columbine parents did. They were also instructed to keep this from their children, as the principal didn’t want to incite fear and panic among the students. In keeping with his honest form of parenting, he told me everything. I’m grateful for that honesty looking back now. He treated me like an adult that deserved a straight answer. At the time, in keeping with my tough daughter form, I acted as if this didn’t completely terrify me. It did, but I didn’t want Tom to think I wasn’t strong or capable of hearing the truths he so often exposed me to. That night I wrote out a little will on a small piece of notebook paper with a purple pen and kept it in my back pocket for the remainder of my high school career. Don’t think that’s too sad, it mostly consisted of who I wanted to distribute my elaborate Buffy the Vampire Slayer collection to, and how I loved my parents, my grandparents and my dog. That wasn’t the first, nor the last time he gave me the harsh truth about reality. It never made me angry or wished he was a normal protective dad, it made me feel capable and loved. Which writing that out now sounds so fucked up. I wish I had asked him why he chose to go that route. Now, I will never know.

Tom made me invisible. I always wondered why he married my mother? Were they ever in love? I have pictures to prove they once were. I did witnessed it in elementary school on Halloween nights. My mom would come over and the three of us would get me ready to trick-or-treat. They didn’t fight on those nights for some reason. I will always remember the image of them, one Halloween, linked arm and arm in front of me holding an umbrella due to the crazy, unexpected blizzard. The streets and sidewalks were covered in snow and we could barely see in front of us. I was a witch that year.  My mother painted my face green and Tom made sure I had plenty of layers under my black cloak.  They topped the costume off with a stringy long black wig with a tall pointy witch hat. I was marching behind them when I looked up and saw them linked together. They looked in love. It was what I imagined having normal, happy parents would have been like. Even just for a little bit.  That image was ruined when they dumped the snow on the umbrella behind them straight on to my witch hat. I guess I was an after-thought, even then. 

Tom made me grow up too fast. He never shielded me from who my mother was. My mother was beautiful. She always had a way about her that drew men and even women in. She was funny and charismatic. She stood about five feet and eight inches tall, dyed bleach blonde hair, big round green eyes with a perfect nose. She was athletic and slender. I could tell why my dad fell for her.  However, when she would climb into a bottle, which was most of my youth, she changed.  Struggling with alcoholism and bipolar disorder she was unpredictable and quite often scary. He never kept me from her. He always said, “I don’t want Kym to not know her mother” to people who asked why he still let me see her. She had a lot of dark days and I was along for the ride in a lot of them. 

Tom would drop me off at whatever random living situation my mother had herself in every other weekend without so much as walking me to the door to make sure it was safe. She once told me that when he did that it confused her. One weekend she was supposed to pick me up from his house and take me to our family farm. She told me she started the day off with her usual 2 cups of wine, yes cups (think big gulp, her words, not mine) and proceeded to the car. She was later woken up by a confused Tom knocking on her window asking her where the hell she had been. She didn’t even make it out of the parking lot. Her response was “wow, I must have passed out”. One thing I always admired about my mother, she never was dishonest about her alcoholism and quite funny about it to boot. She said he accepted this answer followed by an “I’ll pick Kym up on Sunday night.” Then he left a 7 year old me standing outside of her car holding my tiny suitcase.  She later told me that she thought, “that’s fine but I’m definitely going back inside to drink some more”, we went inside and she did. 

One of the grimmer memories from that era was when she lived with a man named Scott. Scott was a much scarier man than any boyfriend she had had to that point. He drank too much and was abusive towards my mother and referred to me as “Buggard”. Funny enough, I never hated that guy, I respected that he was who he was and seemed to own it, no matter how fucked up. Tom would drop me off there without so much as a peek inside. It was terrifying. I didn’t find out until years later that he had known what was going on in there. I guess one Sunday my Papa (P-pa, Tom’s dad), picked me up. I climbed in the car and was quiet for several miles until I broke the silence with a shy “I never want to go back there again”. When asked why, I told P-pa that my mom and Scott had sex and would make me watch. My grandparents pleaded with Tom to fight for sole custody. He never did.  I confronted him about this in my adult life as I thought I had never told anyone this was happening because I assumed that if I had, someone would have done something about it. I now know that the court would have brought up more questions on his parenting side too and I might have been taken away. I’m glad he didn’t. It was scary and it sucked but I came out the other side. As a result of a lot of these memories I can handle almost anything thrown my way. Glass half-full, right?

Tom made me feel loved. When my mother was mostly out of the picture he did everything he could to make me feel like I was having a normal childhood. He signed me up for soccer, ballet classes, and anything that a normal kid who had two parents would get to do. I was lucky. 

Tom put me in girl scouts at an early age, I was in the same troop throughout my time in the scouts.  We were really tight, us twelve girls. Following the tradition of playing Mr. Mom, Tom involved himself fully becoming close with the rest of the girls’ moms. I never questioned where my mother was, in these moments Tom was enough. We’d go on camping trips as a troop and Tom would come along. He was the only male and blended better than I think any dad in that situation would have.  It was cool. During these camping trips, Tom would play a game with the girls in my troop and me. We would line up behind a long, fallen down log in the middle of the mountains, each one of us with a few watermelons and Tom would stand about 6 feet away from the log and we’d spit seeds at him. Whoever got the most won. We never kept track, we just laughed as he danced around dodging each seed. I’m so grateful for these silly memories.

Later our troop leader wasn’t able to keep up with the commitment, and neither could any of the other moms. Our tight knit troop was on the verge of breaking up. Tom stepped forward and volunteered to lead. The Girl Scout Association said that men weren’t allowed to lead the girl scouts. He was heartbroken. This was the one thing he couldn’t change, cover up or save me from despite a lack of a mom figure. Luckily one of the girls’ mom said she’d do it on paper but Tom would be the actual leader. We were elated. 

Last year, when going through his things after his passing, I found a letter of acknowledgement and certificate of gratitude from the Girl Scout Association thanking him for being one of the only dads to take an interest in their daughter’s troop. 

He didn’t have to do those things. He didn’t have to be involved. He could have just sent me off to the scout meetings and been apathetic like the rest of the other fathers were. He could have paid the dues, bought the uniform, and returned to his scotch and TV, as he often did, but he didn’t. He was there in a way I don’t think most girls can say their fathers were. I’d give anything to thank him for that now, absolutely anything.

Tom made me stick up for myself. The house I grew up in laid directly center of a cul-de-sac in the middle of Littleton, Colorado. The house was pretty big for just Tom and me. When my parents bought it there was hope of a long marriage and many kids to go along with it. I guess life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to. The house was bright yellow with brown trimming. Sounds awful, I know, but it really did look nice. There were three bedrooms and three bathrooms. I got two bedrooms and my own bathroom. I was spoiled. The back yard was huge. I had a tetherball quart, a basketball hoop, a garden and a shed. The house was beautiful. The cul-de-sac was filled with other kids, mostly all boys. I was the oldest and usually in charge.

As we all got a little older and I became more of a girl the boys started having less interest in playing hide and seek with me, and more interest in picking on me or playing pranks. You’d think it was a crush, but considering my description of myself from earlier, it’s highly unlikely. One summer afternoon I was hanging out in my front lawn minding my own business when I was pegged with several water balloons. The ambush was calculated and mean. I couldn’t get to my front door fast enough. Those boys were relentless. I ran inside crying, explaining to Tom the whole story, probably a shade too dramatic I might add. Again, Tom did what he often did, he looked up from his scotch and TV and said, “I don’t know what you’re doing in here, you have a hose don’t you?”  I did have a hose. I went around the back put one of those spray gun attachments to it and cranked that sucker up. I pulled the hose around the front yard and had an ambush of my own. Those idiot boys were sitting in one of their yards basking in the glory of the ambush they had just won and were not expecting my retaliation. It was glorious. 

I hated Tom a lot of the time for making me “figure it out” or “handle it on my own” but looking back on that day and how good it felt to enact revenge on my own, I’m happy he did. He was hard on me so I would be hard on myself and in turn I can handle just about anything this life throws at me.

No matter how complicated our relationship was, and the time we took apart from each other, he is still one of my favorite people. Which is a complicated feeling. A feeling that has brought me guilt and shame. He was a bully, he was charismatic and he was terrifying. I never felt quite normal or at ease alone with him. A relationship between parent and child is always somewhat complicated. I guess we were no different. I miss him though. A lot of my best and worst qualities came from Tom. They are often the same. I usually get asked if I’m from the east coast because of my directness and lack of beating around the bush. You never have to guess how I feel about you. I’m charismatic and people tend to gravitate towards me. Something that actually both of my parents possessed. I’m very opinionated and I am willing to get into a fight over my beliefs. When I put my mind to something I rarely back down. I’m stubborn. There is so much more that Tom gave me. A sense of humor. An open mind. A love for scotch. A love for the Broncos. A love for life. I’d like to think I have kind eyes too. Though it was a difficult life it made me the woman I am today. I’m proud of her. In Tom’s passing I got the validation I always sought, he was proud of her too. 

[pinkweepingwillow]

Something like this but less focused on astrology, maybe a book will pop🙈

"Gemini" The Art of Duality June 02, 2018 Following my 32nd, Birthday I want to start it off by blogging about something I’ve longed to explore. The law of polarity is a universal law that governs this physical existence, It is described to be: In the presence or manifesto of two opposite or contrasting principles or tendencies. Being a Gemini myself born June 1st, 1986 I am here to offer some perspective on Duality. We are well known for our dualistic nature, after all we are the twin sign. “Gemini” is the third astrological sign in the third astrological sign in the zodiac originating from the constellation of Gemini. Under the tropical zodiac, the sun transits this sign between May 21 and June 21. Gemini is represented by The Twins Castor and Pollux.[3] The symbol of the twins is based on the Dioscuri, two mortals that were granted shared godhood after death.[4] Sign characteristic of a Gemini Wind - Air. Side note: Reflecting back I always went with the flow of things growing up, I just discovered it is simple that way. It was only when I did not go with the flow of things I experienced the most resistance in my life. When I became aware of the astrological information regarding my sign I began identify with its many aspects and it only gave me a deeper understanding of the “person” I am. Exploring some of the strengths, Gemini’s are generally known to be versatile, quick witted, sensitive, intelligent, creative, artistic, social, passionate, disciplined, thoughtful, crazy, loving, and funny. They have a deep appreciation for the arts, philosophy, writing, history, nature, and the cosmos. Just as they have all these really cool strengths, they have their weaknesses some of which are, indecisive, nervous, short tempered, frustrated, non-social, detached, isolated, forgetful, impatient, and the most notorious of them all inconsistent. We are considered to be the jack of all trades but master of none, this is dualism revealing itself. Keep in mind that it is the characteristics of both the strengths and weakness that make up the identity of the whole. For as long as I can remember I have always experienced a deep yearning in always being split for an example walking a human journey and a spiritual one. Living the day to day is our human experience, expressing the will of our soul is living a spiritual one. This is form of duality yet, I never taken the time to gain a deeper understanding of what I was regularly experiencing. As an artist and photographer for a while I created with both entities independent of each other I treated them as if they were separate. When I first decided to unify the two talents my work immediately evolved, it was a benchmark in my life. I have creatively found a way to merged two talents and it birth the project "Shards Of Glass" I Blogged about how much of an amazing experience this was. http://lorenzopphotography.com/new-blog/2015/8/20/shard-of-glass Weather If we like to acknowledge it or not we experience duality on an everyday consistent basis. Like the old saying goes, “Opposites Attract”. Have you ever asked yourself why is that? When these forces are equally unified it creates harmony, by understanding these laws it helped to identify with what needed balance in my life. Think of it as a reciprocal relationship, a constant give and take. Theologian Richard Rohr, refers to this relationship as a “Divine Dance” Even the cells running through your body operates in with the same mechanics it is a universal law. You are by nature attracted to your opposite I would consider this divine orchestration a reflection of completion. People in romantic relationships are generally attracted to someone who is completely opposite of them and when they unit they act as a mirror to one another. When these qualities or energies of both parties are met subsequently you have something that is complete. When there is unity there is balance, and where there is balance there is strength. Literally one cannot exist without the other, anytime God created something he divided it from its opposite. Duality speaks of conformation and witness; the number 2 represents division to show you both ends of the spectrum. In many Chinese traditions they understand this law as Tao, living in harmony with the “Yin and Yang”. The Gnostic belief in the dualism of flesh and spirit—with the flesh being evil and something to be freed from, while the eternal spirit was good—also originated in the lie Satan told Eve. Gnostics, in general, believed that the purpose of human existence was to return to the spiritual realm from whence all originated. Death, then, was seen as liberation of the spirit. Referencing Genesis 1 King James Version (KJV) 1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. 2 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. 3 And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. 4 And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. 5 And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day. You can see how the creator engineered this existence to be an exact opposite of itself. People would always refer to my brother and I as "Day & Night", I was “Day” and he was “Night”. Paired together we are a brotherly couple unmatched, were are a reflection of each other literally. I exemplified qualities of a positive vibration he on the other hand, display frequencies of a negative one. It’s only when you have a charge from both a positive and negative source can a battery be powered! Speaking of which, being positive and negatively charged I have theorized the Sun and Moon act as a power source for planet earth, one has energy contrary of the other. The idea of duality is subliminally perpetuated throughout our culture. If you direct your attention to characters in the comic books such as the Iconic Superman, who walks a human journey simultaneously walking a superhuman one. In the likeness of being human he is Clark Kent on the job working the day to day. When he is Superman his abilities are ultimately used for the greater good of the world. Although he possess all of these great abilities appearing Godlike to humans his weakness is Kryptonite, it is often used by his enemies to weakened Superman. Metaphysically speaking this is symbolic of duality. One is not independent of the other, It evolves as one entity or one unit. You have your human assignments and you have your spiritual ones, and It does not matter how powerful you are, all superheroes have a weakness. Using superheroes as an analogy the same principle applies to characters such as Spider-Man, The Hulk, Batman, etc..They all share a duality, it is the gift and the curse. As Gemini’s we tend to hide or separate these things in fear of being rejected or misunderstood. The flaws and imperfections are apart of the same elements that makes us great. This makes me beg the question are Gemini's undercover superheroes? Hmmmm...... I am just joking, although I can attest at times I’ve held back at revealing my true nature in fear people would not understand or judge. I no longer wish to hide my “true” self, and to my fellow Gemini finding balance will help you flow with the wind. There are many facets of dualities we see in today's world, essentially they all share an underlying theme, there is an infinite cycle of balance "One cannot exist without the other". “It is my belief that people who are born under this astrological sign are excellent conduits of balancing these dualities on this physical plane! "We Live In a World Governed by Polarity" Alpha & Omega Start & Finish Male & Female Masculine & Feminine Strong & Weak Prey & Predator Cause & Effect Light & Dark Good & Evil Heaven & Hell As above - So below Gift & Curse Top & Bottom North- South East - West Yin & Yang Rich & Poor Giving & Receiving Adding & Subtracting Order & Chaos Life & Death Positive & Negative Protons & Neutrons Sleep & Wake Conscious & Unconscious Sun & Moon Day & Night Speaking & Silence Creation & Destruction Beauty & Ugly Ego & spirit Heart & Mind Hot & Cold Fire & Ice Liberty & Imprisonment Bitter & Sweet Republican & Democrat Right & Left Past & Future