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open-hearth-rpg · 9 months

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Safety: Great RPG Mechanics #RPGMechanics Week Nine

One of the greatest things about modern rpg gaming is that the issue of safety has become a great filter. Beyond the actual application of safety tools, it has become accepted and conventional to the point that a game has to make a deliberate choice not to discuss that in some way, particularly for any material moving towards edginess, horror, etc. If a game goes into problematic areas but doesn’t address those issues, someone has made a deliberate decision.

And that’s something which has changed over the last decade and it makes me super happy. Just a few years ago Free League publish Mutant: Elysium, a game where you effectively play fascist, human-supremacist, state tools who engage in ongoing PVP and player betrayal. Imagine Paranoia without the humor and more jackboots. And the only nod to the potential problems with this was a passage that said, yes players might get mad at one another and if that happened you should probably stop the game and talk about it.

Weak sauce.

Or another game, written in part by creators I respect, which covered a licensed property with a strong ethnic element, including a history of white co-opting, which had no talk about cultural issues in play, culture sensitivity, the challenges of playing characters from that culture. It boggled my mind at the time– but it was just far enough back I could squint my eyes and hold my nose. I like to think people would point out that absence today– or more likely that oversight wouldn’t have happened.

So when a ttrpg doesn’t have any discussion of boundaries, talking to the table, or handling safety– especially with tough themes– that’s a good filter– it moves it down in the likelihood of actually spending the effort to bring it to the table. I appreciate too when slightly older games start to address these issues in later supplements. More recent Star Trek Adventures publications like the Players & Gamemasters’ Guides and the Lowers Deck Sourcebook have called out theme and issues which could be a problem at tables (eugenics, suicide, death) and suggested way to talk about these with the table.

And here’s the thing I’m going to be brutally honest about. I thought safety tools were dumb when I first heard about them in the abstract. My immediate reaction was to go into grumpy GM mode, worrying about people talking away my autonomy as a GM. I thought up straw man arguments based on how imaginary players could use these to break or derail a game. I was an asshole about it. But then I started to see people actually railing about it and invariably they were people I considered asshole GMs. And I started to ask myself AITA?

More importantly I started to actually see and interact with these things in play. That really showed me how dumb I’d been about the whole thing. But two things sealed the deal for me. First I had a player I’d played with for close to two decades, a big, buff dude stop a game. He said: enough with the spiders. He finally told me that he was phobic, really badly phobic and sketched out an incident as a child. It had always stressed him out, had made him quit games, but he’d never said anything. We’d played together for years and years and I hadn’t known and he hadn’t said and it had made some of his time at the table really awful.

I see GMs say “my group has played together for years and never needed…” Yeah, f*ck you. I’m willing to bet there’s someone who had an evening ruined or quit your table because of that. And don’t get me started on the “we always had girls at the table and they never had a problem with it” line. Someone did and they felt like they had to get along and keep their mouth shut. But that’s an older generation of gamers– my generation of dinosaurs and the generation which followed us. I am genuinely grateful that the needle has moved and these kinds of discussions have become commonplace and accepted.

The second event which completely changed my take on this was at Gen Con running a late-night Saturday session for Game on Demand in 2017. A group of five sat down, four guys and a young woman. They were clearly a friend group who had been playing together for three days. I set up the game and then I went through the X-Card with the table. And I looked up at the young woman and saw a look which I can only describe as “thank f*cking god.” She didn’t know me, but she realized there was a chance that I wasn’t a total asshole.

So yeah, safety tools are one of the greatest modern meta-mechanics to facilitate play. I love reading how different games provide resources. On Open Hearth we ask that GMs use a layered set of tools for all sessions: Lines & Veils, the X-Card, and Open Door. Each has a different purpose and role. GMs have leeway to swap some of these out for other tools they’re more comfortable with but most people use these three because they’re accessible and work.

The best games spend some time discussing how these tools work in the context of the game and how to implement them. Safety tools aren’t a band-aid, the game facilitator and the table as a whole has to be aware of how to resolve situations using those tools. That can be a challenge and good games illustrate those techniques. There has to be follow through.

A couple of recent games have solid safety sections. #iHunt uses its own structure and lays things out pretty thoroughly. It also spends time talking about its philosophy regarding safety. Apocalypse Keys has a great three pages which tightly lay out the concepts of the game’s Green, Yellow, and Red approach. I’m biased but I think Hearts of Wulin also does a pretty good job– it combines a CATS explanation, safety tools, and some cultural notes.

But it wasn’t as good when I first sketched it out. It took time to develop some of those ideas– with influence from Agatha Cheng and James Mendez Hodes for the cultural discussion. Other concepts came from feedback. Hearts of Wulin offers romantic action melodrama. I knew I wanted to make clear that players should consider gender and sexuality fluid in play. But a playtester pointed out that the structure of mandatory romantic entanglements pushed out aromantic characters.

And again I’m going to cop to being dumb here. My first reaction was ��well, it is a game about romance so that’s key to the genre.” But on reflection I realized how limiting and potentially alienating that could be. It didn’t take changing the rules to fix. I just added in language about how players who wanted Ace or aromantic characters could do that. They could swap out a romantic entanglement for a general one or they could read “romantic” as a strong bond of friendship, care, or devotion.

I’m ranging wildly in this because so much of table culture and play management circles around the broader concept of safety. It’s not an onerous thing and the care spent here pays back. It includes a lot of elements: active tools, collaboration, consent, check ins, establishing boundaries, and beyond. For example I stress that players should identify pronouns for themselves and their characters. In play they should also take care to get those right and make corrections when applicable.

I love this for a couple of reasons, but most importantly the one I talked about at the start of this. Using pronouns makes fascists, TERFS, and the like really mad. It’s a great filter for them. Every couple of months I’ll get a comment on one of my actual play videos. Most recently I got this one on a Dune session zero: “wow, this is the first time I've stopped viewing RPG content after just 5 seconds. however it is a must, after hearing the application of the pronouns after the presentation."

All I can say is good, die mad about it.

#ttrpg #rpg #rpg mechanics

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chicknstripz · 1 year

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∘₊✧ [[ Kindred Spirits ]] ✧₊∘

Pairings || None Warnings || Paranoia, Mentions of ‘Decommissioning’, Eugenics, Bullying. Synopsis || Jaing learns something new about the cloning program, and Tech learns that the Batch aren't the only deviants in the facility. Chapters || [1][2] (reposted as the original wouldn't allow me to change the format)

The mess was a riot of sound, a constant chatter that grated on Jaing’s nerves as he gave the space a quick once over.

Kaminoans? None. Alphas? Again, none, the usual threats completely absent.

So why then, were his instincts on edge? A frenzied itch that started at the back of his scalp and tingled down his spine. Another look, another check, but again nothing, his paranoia rising as he tried to narrow down the threat. There had to be something! It wasn’t like his instincts to lie to him about this kind of thing, the swirl of anxiety settling in the space just above his heart as he eyed the chow line.

“Where’s the rest of your pathetic batch?”

He halted in mid-stride, the jibe instantly rousing his anger. Expect the jibe wasn’t aimed his way - a quick swivel of his head revealing the cause of his paranoia.

A crowd of cadets had gathered around one of the tables, their broad backs hiding the object of their unsavory attention. At first he thought the troopers had ganged up on one of his brothers, his eyes narrowing as he stormed his way across the room, but the closer he got the more certain he became that this wasn't a null. Soft brown hair, a shade lighter than his own peeped out from between shoulders, followed by a spectacled face - the set of the eyes revealing slight frustration at the attention as Jaing stopped just behind the apparent ring leader of the group.

“I don’t know who said that, but you better kriff off - the lot of you.”

“Make us!”

He gave the idiot what Kal would call ‘the null special’, his lips peeling back to reveal his pearly whites.

“You don’t want that, it tends to be painful.”

The trooper gave him a quick once over, scoffed, then walked off, which was for the best as Jaing didn’t want to start another brawl in the mess hall.

“That was completely unnecessary, I had the situation under control.”

“Like hell you did.”

Jaing huffed as he seated himself opposite the cadet, the seat protesting as he leaned his weight into its back. He’d put on a lot of muscle in the past year or so, his frame filling out as he transitioned from spindly youth to bulky soldier, and he could see Tech reaching the conclusion all Troopers did when they met him for the first time.

“You are an ARC Trooper, are you not?”

He watched the kid trace his finger across the screen of his datapad, the movement precise as he dumped a mouthful of information that’d more than delight Prudii.

“Kaminoan data suggests there are two ARC variants in production. The first is the alpha variant, a batch of one hundred and fifty soldiers who’ve had their genetics carefully curated by Nala Se. The second is the trooper variant, forward thinking individuals who’ve been singled out by their commanders as being worthy of specialized training. Based on your build and age, I would say you were the former.”

Jaing scoffed. If there was one thing he hated, it was being mistaken for an alpha!

“If I was an alpha I would have punched first and asked questions later.”

“Then, what, exactly, are you?

“A disappointment"

Tech clearly didn't get the joke, the arc of his brows visible over his goggles as he rolled his thumb into the corner of the screen - just like Prudii would do when he got frustrated with something.

"That's hardly an explanation"

"It was for the Kaminonans."

The cadet was still giving him that look, the amber of his eyes boring into him with such intensity that he felt like he was looking at a fellow null.

"You're a deviant then? Interesting. I thought there were only four of us."

Jaing jolted at the off-hand comment, his anxiety rising to a fever pitch at the very idea that he’d missed something important. How could he, the data slicer extraordinaire, have missed that there was another deviant batch of clones? Unless, of course, this cadet had been lied to? He wouldn’t put it past the awiha bait to run psychological experiments on run of the mill troopers.

“I was under the impression the Kaminaons stopped the production of specialized units not long after the Alpha run.”

He watched the younger clone tip his head, his thumbs settling in the lower corners of his datapad whilst he digested his words. Jaing was familiar with what a highly intelligent individual looked like, knew well the tells and traits of someone that had eidetic memory, and whilst he didn’t think this clone had perfect recall he did think he had something close - the gracile brows setting low over his eyes as he lowered his ‘pad to the top of his thighs.

“I’m no expert on the matter, but I would recon - based on our growth charts and mental capacity - that we were produced shortly after the first batch of gen-ones were decanted.”

Jaing closed his eyes as he built a mental image of this new timeline, the production of whatever Tech was slipping neatly between the Alpha program and the gen one troopers.

“So that’d make you, what, three years my junior?”

“Impossible! There are no variants on record that pre-date the Alphas, and most of them are two years our senior.”

He motioned for the cadet to hand him his datapad, his fore and index fingers curling in a ‘give it here’ gesture that made the youngster huff in vague worry - as if he was going to ruin the device.

“Udessi kih’vod, I’m not going to ruin your ‘pad. If anything, it'll be in a much better condition when I return it.”

The kid clearly doesn’t believe him, the hard stare invoking a sense of deep kinship that made Jaing feel sorry for his brothers. How many times had he given them the exact same look? His lips pursed into a thin line as one of them, usually Prudii, tried to techsplain a technical problem he’d already solved. The ‘pad settled into his palm, a familiar weight that settled his nerves as he turned the screen toward him for a cursory inspection. Impressive firewall and VPN, with what looked to be a handmade GUI, the image laid over a system that definitely was not GAR standard.

“This your work --”

He left an open for the kid to introduce himself, the fingers of his right hand lifting from the back of the ‘pad as he did so.

“CT-9902”

“I don’t do the whole designation thing kih’vod, just give me your name.”

“Tech”

“Jaing”

Tech nods, giving him another examination that left him exposed.

“As in the mandalorian training master?”

“Yes, as in the training master”

Jaing isn’t comfortable with the whole ‘being named after a legendary mandalorian’ thing, none of them are - especially not Mereel, but they’ve lived with their monikers for so long that changing them feels wrong. So they live with the impossible expectations, with the skeletons in the closets - the pains of a past that wasn’t theirs stacking alongside the pain of a flash pumped education and growth spurts.

“Surprised you know about that to be honest.”

“I’ve been doing some light reading, figured it’d come in useful if we ever get sent to Mandalore.”

He lifts his shoulders in a shrug as he slips his datachip into Tech’s terminal, watching with immense satisfaction as the cadet’s in-built system checks for viruses.

“Just as long as you remember to take what you read with a grain of salt.”

“I’m well aware that the vast majority of historical texts are ‘written by the victor’, and thus liable to be full of bias.”

Good. Good. Whomever has been teaching the cadet has a good head on their shoulders, which is for the best if you ask him. Too many of the troopers are getting a shoddy education, their flashpumping followed by a hasty run through live sims that made his gut churn, and too few are being exposed to the mandalorian mindset - their inability to think on their feet dooming them to death. He sighs as he opens the file he’s looking for, the corners of his lips sinking as he sets the item to the top of the table, and slides it across to Tech.

“Then you’ll get a kick out of this.”

“What, exactly, am I looking at?”

“A redacted file that was supposed to be destroyed when the aiwha bait started mass-production of the gen-ones”

He watched Tech’s eyes flitter over the information, the press of his lips growing thinner and thinner, until only a sliver of skin remained - the skin bone white with the pressure as his eyes surveyed him from over the top of the pad.

“It’s not often I’m rendered mute, but this is--”

“Unethical?”

“That would be the correct word, however I find it wholly unfitting of the information revealed by this text. ‘The remaining units have been assessed for behavioral issues following the completion of their flash training. It is our findings that they, and I’m quoting here, are highly aggressive, and unfit for duty. Therefore it is our recommendation they be designated Null and sent for decommissioning.’”

Tech placed his datapad to the table, the silent fury in his eyes poking at the small part of Jaing’s brain that formed tight connections with his vode.

“However, I don’t see anything in this report that indicates why your, huh-hum, issues should warrant such an order. High intellect and, as Wrecker would so quaintly put it, the balls to ignore illogical orders, are favorable for special forces.”

“Tell that to the Kaminoans.”

The pair fell into a long silence, a deep understanding of the other forming as they watched the comings and goings of the various battalions. Tech found in Jaing a much needed sign that he wasn’t alone, that there was at least one other trooper that shared in his genius. Jaing felt similar, though he still wasn’t sure how or why the Kaminoans had made another ‘high-end’ batch when he had turned out so poorly.

“So -- your batch -- what special traits did they breed into you?”

Tech shrugged, scrolling his finger up the screen as he continued to scan through the file Jaing had shared with him.

“It varies. Hunter, our sergeant, has heightened senses. He can feel the electromagnetic pulses that run through the facility, a ground based radar if you will, makes it impossible for us to get lost. Wrecker, well, he’s built like the commandos. Tall, broad, and muscular. Can easily haul three times his weight from one end of the sim to the other. Then we’re got Crosshair --”

There’s a pause, a brief breath that tells Jaing this vod is the ‘outsider’ of the group.

“-- he’s had his eyesight enhanced, can hit a precise target from across the mud pan.”

Tech lifts his free hand, thumb and forefinger pressed together to demonstrate the size of the target, and Jaing - precise and skilled Jaing - whistles in admiration as he knows just how hard it is to hit a target that small from nine hundred yards away.

“And then there’s you, the genius.”

“I will admit that my intellect is far higher than the regs, however I wouldn’t call myself a genius -- not yet by any rate.”

Humility, as Kal would say, was a good trait for a mando’ade to have, the soft air of it hanging around the -- commando? Jaing isn’t quite sure what to call Tech just yet, but he does know he’s been bred and trained for something other than regular field work, and that? That riled something in him, the sense of ‘something’s not right here’ sitting deep in his gut as he drummed his fingers on the table top.

“Have you ever wondered why they made you?”

Tech cocks his head, completely unbothered by the null asking what, would be to some, a rude question.

“It is not my place to ask the wherefores.”

“Well then maybe it should be!”

And there it was, the key difference between him and whatever Tech was - the deep and rooted ember that landed him and his brothers on the chopping block. Jaing couldn’t accept what he’d been told as the truth, couldn’t sit back and go with the flow like the so-called ‘regs’ did. No. He asked questions. He prodded and pried, slipped his way into places he didn’t belong solely because he couldn’t accept that life was black and white, and accepted that the later gens didn’t think like that? It was kriffing hard! His mind a whir as he remembered the insurmountable wall that existed between him and his kih’vode.

“Sorry. I sometimes forget myself.”

“It’s quite alright. I too, find my mouth running ahead of my thoughts on the odd occasion.”

Well at least he hadn’t offended him. It really would be a new low on the ‘Jaing tries to make friends with someone’ ladder, which wasn’t that high a ladder in the first place, but hey, he was trying here, his shoulders dropping from his ears as he tapped the side of his vambrace.

“Jate, Jate, I’d hate if it was just me putting my big ole boot in my mouth.”

Tech smiled, the first true smile he’d seen from the fellow cadet since he sat down, and Jaing was struck by how young he looked - his cheeks and jaw still rounded with fat.

“I take it it’s not a trait you share with the rest of your batch?”

“Not to this degree, no.”

He definitely had it the worst, though Mereel and A’den were a close second when it came to the fine art of unintentionally insulting aruetiise.

“I could go on and on like this all day, but I don’t have the time nor the energy.”

“Training sims?”

“No. We’re being trained the good old fashioned way.”

“Perhaps you will care to enlighten me about that the next time we talk?”

Jaing would usually say no to a next time, would usually insist that he keep himself to himself, but Tech? He was different. He wanted to spend time with him, wanted to learn, and who was he to say no when he’d been complaining about Tech not being trained right not half an hour before?

“How about we make a deal? I will tell you about my training regime if you promise to look into why the Kaminoans made you.”

“Deal!”

Jaing felt accomplished as he shook Tech’s hand, the unsettled feeling slinking to the back of his mind as the topic of conversation drifted to what was being offered in the mess. Later he’d tell Kal about his worrying discovery, would tell his father about this odd clone he’d met, but for now all he cared about was this blooming friendship with a like minded soul.

#republic commando #repcomm #the bad batch #Jaing Skirata #tbb tech #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #'what if' drabble

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audreydoeskaren · 2 years

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Saw this post on Xiaohongshu a while back and it’s a really good example of 18th century erasure, so I think I’ll share this here (not calling out anybody or anything just sharing). OP posted a series of scanned images from a Republican era source (of unclear provenance) showing what people *thought* were historical fashions at the time, and the outfit for what they described as the “end of the Ming” is actually from the 18th century, the Qianlong era in the Qing Dynasty. The other images of the Qing all show stereotypical 19th century fashions. What’s fascinating about this is that it shows that 18th century erasure is by no means a recent phenomenon, it had existed since at least the 1920s/30s, when I assume this was made. Great for illustrating that people in the Republican era knew fuck all about Chinese fashion history (even something as recent as 120 years ago) and by extension a lot of other Chinese history.

Textbook mid 18th century women’s fashion from the 燕寝怡情 painting series. (Ironically, the person who uploaded this image to Pinterest labeled it Ming Dynasty lol)

I always think that 18th century erasure is harmful to both Ming and Qing fashion because as is the case with this source, actual Ming Dynasty fashion makes no appearance and Qing Dynasty fashion is appropriated. What this is doing is more than just creating fashion history misconceptions though, it basically reconfigures the whole discourse on what is and isn’t Qing, and more importantly for that time period, what it means to be Chinese, what to embrace and what to reject. 18th century erasure discourse has immense power in stretching the limits of mental gymnastics, as it can make people mentally push the starting date of the Qing Dynasty to around 1800, one and a half century later than the 1644 of reality, and decide that things they do like about the Qing belong to the Ming instead. This is dishonest and annoying at best, and at worst I can make a case about how The Qing™️ in 18th century erasure discourse isn’t referring to the actual dynasty anymore, but functions more as an umbrella term for “everything we deem degenerate and don’t like”. Honestly why would anyone try to nudge 18th century fashion in the direction of the Ming if they didn’t think the Qing was bad in the first place.

The Qing has become a sort of all use hate object since the proliferation of Western colonialism in China, and it’s evident that this sentiment lingers on in the present day. If you scroll through the comments under this post you can find multiple people bashing the Qing for its apparent inferior taste and lamenting the loss of Chinese beauty, based on the incorrectly dated historical fashions. What they don’t know is that some of the supposed “pre-Qing” things they praise for their beauty and Chinese essence are, in fact, also from the Qing. I’m not even going to unpack how the whole thing about the Qing “degenerating” Chinese cultural evolution has close ties to eugenics and racial science popular around the time. Anyway, I’d just like to remind everyone that when you bash what you think to be Qing and contrarily praise what you think to be pre-Qing, both things could in actuality be from the Qing and you are creating a binary opposition out of nothing.

*On a side note, I think it’s fascinating that OP added a Chinese flag emoji to the image, probably because of a growing nationalist paranoia where people imagine they’re defending Chinese artworks from being “stolen” by Koreans. I’ve seen more Chinese people paranoid about supposed Korean stealings than actual Korean people using Chinese images inappropriately. Korean people as a hate object are also very much en vogue right now, for whatever reason. It’s almost established as a racist cliche in recent years that “Koreans like to steal”, and it’s so normalized people don’t even perceive it as offensive. Not saying that OP is intentionally being racist, but this emoji under this context triggers my fight or flight response.

#rant #18th century erasure #qing dynasty #qianlong era #colonialism #nationalism

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backofthebookshelf · 4 years

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Horror Recs for Magnus Fans, Part the Second

Last time I did this I was assuming that anyone who was listening to a horror podcast already knew some horror, but I have since learned that this is not the case, so there are a few more classics in here, as well as some more of my faves.

For anyone and everyone who listens to TMA: Sarah Monette's Kyle Murchison Booth stories, many (though not all) of which are collected in The Bone Key. Queer information professional would very much like for ghosts and monsters to leave him alone, does not get what he wants; can't resist the impulse to help out people who are more fucked over than him anyway. I love Booth so much, he deserves much better things than he gets.

For Web stans: Blindsight by Peter Watts, a sci-fi horror novel about free will and consciousness. Lydia Nicholas named this as one of her favorite books in the first Assistant's Round Table; I respect her for it, but I read this once and it gave me an existential crisis. Highly recommended, but make sure you've got a palate cleanser.

For jonelias fans and/or fans of the Corruption: Candyman (1992). With bonus folklore & urban legend meta! Kissing bees into your (potential) lover's mouth in order to convince them to become a murderous spirit of vengeance just like you! "All you have left is my desire for you"!!! It's extremely sexy, is what I'm saying, in all the best ways. (Trigger warnings for violence against children and a fair amount of gore, in addition to the aforementioned bees.)

If you love the no-holds-barred social commentary of season five: The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle. No, I will not shut up about this book until absolutely everyone in the world has read it. It's short! You could read it in an afternoon! This is Lovecraft's "The Horror at Red Hook" from the point of view of a black musician and hustler who's hired to help out with the ritual, and it's incredible. (If you're enjoying Lovecraft Country, absolutely do not miss this.)

If you miss the standalone statements of season one and two: the works of the early 20th century cosmic horror and ghost story writers: M.R. James, Algernon Blackwood, Arthur Machen. Machen has a tendency to get pretty eugenics-y, and they're all either misogynistic or don't have women in their stories at all, but goddamn do they do atmosphere. ("The Magnus Archives" is named after James's "Count Magnus," Jonny's favorite M.R. James story.)

For Stranger fans and those who love unexplained mysteries: The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher, a Southern horror (not a Gothic) about a woman who goes to clean out her abusive grandmother's house to sell it only to find that there are things other than his wife that her grandfather was afraid of, and for good reason. Features hot competent neighbors, extremely practical reactions to terrible monsters, and a Very Good Dog (the dog does not die).

For Lonely bitches: "The Horla" by Guy de Maupassant, the story I use to describe my depression to people. That's a pretty good content warning, honestly.

If you loved the "Am I still human?" plotline: The Monster of Elendhaven by Jennifer Giesbrecht, a grotesque little novella about monsters in (dysfunctional) love. I'm a bit iffy on the ending, but honestly landing the ending of horror is so tricky that I'll almost never discount something just because I'm iffy on the ending. The body horror and emotional repression throughout make up for it.

If you crave the supernatural adventure series starring Gerry Keay: The Sandman Slim series by Richard Kadrey - modern noir, so gritty you can feel it in your teeth, featuring all kinds of monsters, demons, curses, and narrowly-averted apocalypses. Not as misogynistic as noir can get, but it is noir so there's definitely a bit of that (but definitely not as misogynistic as Jim Butcher). Trigger warnings all over the place; this is B-movie horror in book form.

For Distortion fans: The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. Bears almost no resemblance to the Netflix series of the same name, or any of the movies based on it; this is a twisty psychological novel with a profoundly unreliable narrator and a lot of repressed queerness. Michael/Helen would be right at home in Hill House. (Content warning for suicidality.)

If you want your horror to make you cry: El Orfanado, directed by Guillermo del Toro; a family moves into a house that used to be an orphanage, that is, of course, haunted. This is a tremendous distillation of the way that horror movies are so often centered around women not being believed, so content warning for gaslighting (and for harm to children); I saw this movie once and entire scenes are embedded in my brain in full color. (Honestly you can't go wrong with any Guillermo del Toro movies; he's fantastic.)

If you want your horror to make you cry, but make it gay: In the Flesh, two seasons of a zombie TV show tragically cut short (yes, it ends on a cliffhanger, I’m sorry). Uses zombies as a metaphor for homophobia, but also includes actual queer people. Content warning for small-town-typical homophobia and tragic gays. Please come yell with me about Simon Monroe, I love him so much.

For Slaughter fans: The Shining by Stephen King - look, look, I know. He's not great. He needs an editor. The movie is all kinds of fucked up. But this book is one of the most raw, personal horror stories I've ever read, and it's got an excellent combination of supernatural influence and real-life mundane fear of addiction and personal weakness that really grabs you by the intestines. Again, an iffy ending, but it's worth it for the slow descent into paranoia and madness.

If you just want to try to find some authors to read: The Borderlands anthology series, paperbacks from the height of the 80s horror boom; there are so many different kinds of stories in here that I can pretty much guarantee you that you won't like some of them but you might well find something new to fall in love with. A lot of these writers are out of print but readily available at used bookstores or for pennies on Amazon.

As always, let me know if you liked any of these or if you have a specific need: it is no longer my job to recommend books and media to people but it is still my very favorite thing to do and I will be obnoxious about it forever

#the magnus archives #tma #horror recs #horror #book recs #movie recs

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eugene-not-flynn · 4 years

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colors

title: colors

word count: 1138

Summary: Rapunzel has an anxiety attack. Eugene knows how to help... which leads to some revelations about Eugene Fitzherbert. Post-Series New Dream hurt/comfort.

Warnings: unedited, anxiety attack, crying, vague mentions of canonical trauma, a fair amount of softness and fluff. (AKA they are both traumatized, your honor, and I want them to have to deal with it).

A/N: this was written in one-go as a random thought. Mixed feelings about it. People’s anxiety manifests differently. I based Rapunzel’s anxiety attack on ones I have had myself. I do not mean to reflect everyone’s experience here. Just my own!

Rapunzel doesn’t understand what is happening.

She’s cried before, but not like this. Her chest is tight and her hands are shaky and her vision blurs with sudden, hot tears. She hears Pascal squeak worriedly somewhere to her left and she tries to give him a reassuring smile but she doesn’t understand what’s happening.

She had been thinking about her schedule today, and the whispers of Gothel from her dream the night before, and Rapunzel knows they aren’t related—she can’t even remember what Gothel said—but something about the two of them together has her feeling unsteady. She sinks to the floor slowly, pulling her knees up.

She takes in a breath, and it pushes out of her lungs in a half-sob and she doesn’t know what is happening but he doesn’t have time for this, and she buries her fingers in her short brown hair.

Distantly she hears the door open and a familiar voice chime brightly, “Good morning, Sunshine—whoa.”

She doesn’t hear Eugene move, but she suddenly feels a gentle tug on her hands. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice is closer now, and much softer.

Rapunzel squeezes her eyes shut. Her chest is still too tight and she doesn’t know. There’s nothing wrong, it doesn’t make sense and she doesn’t know how to say any of that. How to explain in a way that will make sense. Rapunzel shakes her head in response, grateful for the way Eugene hasn’t let go of her hands.

“Okay,” Eugene says. “Okay. Rapunzel, can you look at me?” It’s a request. Not a demand. Rapunzel is still learning the difference.

She cracks her eyes open and can barely make out the blurry form of Eugene kneeling in front of her. She can’t make out his expression. Eugene gives her hands a small squeeze.

“Rapunzel, Sunshine… you gotta breathe.”

I’m trying, she wants to say. She thinks if she so much as breathes in too deeply, she’ll just start sobbing harder.

“Together, okay?” Eugene says when Rapunzel doesn’t respond. “Here. Try to match me.” He presses her palms to the center of his chest and holds them there with one hand. His other cups Rapunzel’s jaw, his thumb brushing against her damp cheeks. Rapunzel does her best to follow the steady rhythm Eugene sets.

In. Hold. Out. Repeat.

She’s not good at it at first. Her inhales are shakier than Eugene’s, and she’s exhaling well before Eugene is.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I—I don’t know why or-or what even---”

“Sweetheart,” Eugene interrupts lightly, “do you have anything green in this room?”

The question is so… bizarre that it makes Rapunzel stop short a second. She glances at the room, blinking to clear the fresh tears in her eyes. “Um.” She sniffles. “That painting of Pascal.” She nods over Eugene’s left shoulder.

Eugene doesn’t even look. “Good. What about something red?”

Rapunzel’s eyes flit quickly around her bedroom. “The-uh. The chairs.”

“Something yellow?”

“The Corona crest on the canopy.”

Eugene presses gently on Rapunzel’s hands against his chest. She can feel his heartbeat now: steady and grounding. “How many purple books are on the top shelf of the bookcase?”

Rapunzel looks past Eugene’s head and counts them. “Seven.” Her brow furrows in confusion, and she meets Eugene’s eyes for the first time today.

The corner of his mouth quirks softly. “There we go.” He pulls Rapunzel’s hands from his chest and holds them, brushing his lips softly against her knuckles. He lowers their hands to his lap as he moves from kneeling to sitting, and opens his hands. Giving her the chance to pull away.

She doesn’t.

She feels… better. Rapunzel blinks, brushing her wet cheeks against her shoulder. “I… don’t know what happened.”

Eugene purses his lips and looks down at Rapunzel’s hands in his. “Well, I’m no expert, mind you. Only you can really be the expert of your own feelings.”

“But you knew how to help.”

Eugene lifts a shoulder. Rapunzel knows that move. It’s the same shrug he gave when she first asked him about his name that first night out of the tower. “I just reminded you to breathe and asked you some questions. You did all the heavy lifting there.”

There’s something that Eugene isn’t sharing, and though Rapunzel doesn’t want to pry, she’s not sure what it is he might be leaving out. “How did you know that would help?”

Eugene’s eyes flit up to meet hers. “Well, I, ah… I’ve had my own share of sudden, overwhelming bouts of anxiety. Breathing deeply and-and awareness to where you are in the present was, is, helpful to me.”

Rapunzel is quiet for a moment. That’s why he’d started asking her about colors in her room. It made her think about where she was, and take note of her surroundings. It had been… surprisingly effective. And a distraction from the torrent of thoughts in her mind.

Eugene dealt with that? On a regular basis?

Rapunzel opens her mouth to ask him about, but he speaks first. “Was it anything in particular that set it off?”

Rapunzel swallows. “I was thinking about the schedule today and… a dream I’d had last night.”

A crease appears between Eugene’s brows. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rapunzel doesn’t know. She does know that she wants to talk to Eugene about what he just said, however. “Do you? I mean…. You deal with that? A lot?”

Eugene looks down as if embarrassed, and starts running his thumb along the inside of Rapunzel’s palm almost absent-mindedly. “I wouldn’t say a lot. Just sometimes. It’s gotten better recently, actually. But, y’know. A lifetime of being on the run is bound to cause some, ah… paranoia. Anxiety.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rapunzel says softly, feeling a twist of guilt. She should have known, right? Eugene helped her when she needed him and she hadn’t asked. How often had Eugene dealt with it and suffered through it alone?

Eugene huffs a soft laugh. “That’s because meeting you was a pretty big factor in easing it.” He pauses, glancing up at Rapunzel quickly before looking back down. “It still happens sometimes, like after the, ah… tower. Both times, I guess? That’s not important.” Eugene shakes his head quickly. “But I’ve gotten pretty good at managing it. And when it starts to get bad, I come find you.”

Rapunzel’s chest squeezes, but its with a warmth this time. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” Eugene says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And hey, if you need someone to help you when it gets bad like this… you can come find me too.”

Rapunzel smiles. “We find each other.”

Eugene smiles right back at her, and the last of the tension uncoils from Rapunzel’s stomach. “Always.”

#tangled #tts #new dream #tangled fanfiction #new dream fanfiction #eugene fitzherbert #rapunzel #anxiety attack #anxiety #crying #fluff #admittedly not my strongest work but i hope you enjoy it regardless!

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fierceawakening · 4 years

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“Trump doesn’t show signs of being schizophrenic, but we should explore where he fits on the bipolar spectrum. He definitely has the hypomanic temperament I wrote about in my two books, The Hypomanic Edge: The Link Between (a Little) Craziness and (a Lot) of Success in America (2005) and In Search of Bill Clinton: A Psychological Biography (2008). Hypomanic temperament is genetically based, running in the families of people with bipolar relatives, but it represents a milder and more functional expression of the same traits as mania. Historically, hypomanic temperament has received little attention compared to bipolar disorder, but the founders of modern psychiatry, Eugen Bleuler, Emil Kraepelin, and Ernst Kretschmer, first described these personalities early in the twentieth century (Bleuler 1924; Kraepelin 1908, 1921; Kretschmer 1925). In an article in The New Republic (Gartner 2005), I summarized the traits of hypomanic temperament as follows:

Hypomanics are whirlwinds of activity who are filled with energy and need little sleep, less than 6 hours. They are restless, impatient and easily bored, needing constant stimulation and tend to dominate conversations. They are driven, ambitious and veritable forces of nature in pursuit of their goals. While these goals may appear grandiose to others, they are supremely confident of success—and no one can tell them otherwise. They can be exuberant, charming, witty, gregarious but also arrogant. They are impulsive in ways that show poor judgment, saying things off the top of their head, and acting on ideas and desires quickly, seemingly oblivious to potentially damaging consequences. They are risk takers who seem oblivious to how risky their behavior truly is. They have large libidos and often act out sexually. Indeed all of their appetites are heightened.

This description sounds an awful lot like Trump who reports, “I usually sleep only four hours a night” (1987), which by itself is usually a pretty reliable indicator of hypomania Indeed, he boasts about it: “How can you compete against people like me if I sleep only four hours?” He claims to work seven days a week and, in a typical eighteen-hour day, to make “over a hundred phone calls” and have “at least a dozen meetings.” He also tweeted, “Without energy you have nothing!”—hence his taunt of Jeb Bush as “a low energy person,” by contrast, a charge that proved quite effective. Like most hypomanics, Trump is easily distracted. We could add attention deficit disorder to the Trump differential, except attention deficit disorder almost always goes with the territory for hypomanics. “Most successful people have very short attention spans. It has a lot to do with imagination,” Trump wrote with Meredith McIver in Think Like a Billionaire in 2004. He is correct. The same rapidity of thought that helps engender creativity makes it difficult for one to stay on one linear track of ideas without skipping to the next. Like most hypomanics, Trump trusts his own ideas and judgment over those of anyone and everyone else, and follows his “vision, no matter how crazy or idiotic other people think it is.”

One of my dictums when working with hypomanic patients is that “nothing fails like success.” If they succeed in achieving one of their wildly ambitious goals, there is often a noticeable uptick in their hypomania, sometimes even precipitating a full-blown hypomanic episode, which, unlike hypomanic temperament, is a diagnosable disorder. They become more aggressive, irritable, reckless, and impulsive. Now seemingly confirmed in their grandiosity, they drink their own Kool-Aid and feel even more invincible and brilliant. They pursue even bolder, riskier, and more ambitious goals, without listening to dissent, doing their due diligence, or considering contradictory facts. Their gut is always right. Once, Trump was asked whom he went to for advice. With a straight face, he said, “Myself.” Trump is Trump’s most trusted adviser. In the same vein, with the increase in grandiosity comes a corresponding increase in paranoia over the fools and rivals who might nay-say the hypomanic’s insights, impede his progress, or destroy him out of jealousy or ignorance.”

I wondered this one too, hearing about how infrequently he sleeps.

#the dangerous case of donald trump

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apenitentialprayer · 4 years

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The Grim Reminder

Attack on Titan and the Perpetual Crisis

(x) tl;dr: the fascist believes that the nation is continually under threat, finding enemies in other nations, but the worst and most dangerous enemies being dissent originating from within. This is currently a problem in the United States, especially (but not exclusively) with the Right, which often interprets disagreement as irrational, childish behavior that is destroying the nation. From the very first episode, the characters who inhabit the world of Attack on Titan are people in constant danger; some threats are obvious, like the nearly two hundred foot tall Titan that compromises the integrity of Wall Maria; others aren’t so much, like the incompetence and corruption of the city guards. But in any case, the one consistent thing you can expect in this story is that the very world itself seems to act as an obstacle that prevents the main characters from achieving their goals. There are enemies at every turn, because the world itself is an enemy. Opponents are inhuman, strangers are potential threats waiting for you to let your guard down, and even friends are ultimately not reliable. The world is in crisis, and the only person you can trust to fix these issues is yourself. This continuous crisis is a key part of any fascist narrative. If there ever was a golden age, it is long past; the golden age, a mythic period where the fascist’s group was the best, is something that must be regained. If it is based on an actual, historical epoch, the seedier qualities of society in that time period will be de-emphasized, if not ignored. And, luckily for the people living now, the golden age is something that can be brought back; it may even be on the verge of returning, were it not for the Perpetual Crisis, the way the enemies of the state always seem able to place a new obstacle that just barely prevents the total victory of the fascist movement. The golden age is definitely a rhetorical device deployed by Eren’s father in the episodes centered on his flashbacks, and thus by Eren as well. Ignoring the history of conquest, slavery, and eugenics of the Eldian Empire, Eren’s father presents a vision of the Eldian past where his ancestors brought civilization and progress to an otherwise backward world. The ancestors of Marley and all enemies of the Eldian Empire (which seems to have been pretty much everyone) were jealous of this past, and any and all criticism of the Eldians is best viewed as propaganda weaponized against the legitimate rulers of the world. The Eldian Empire must return; it is a matter of bringing the world back to an order that has been lost. The fact that the author has made it clear that this is a rhetorical device even in-universe may actually imply that the author is critical of the distortion of the past to support a present political agenda. But even if the use golden age rhetoric is implicitly criticized, the Perpetual Crisis is a reality of the world of Attack on Titan; the story, as presented so far, makes it clear that the multitude of enemies perceived by the main characters are truly there, and are truly obstacles preventing the fulfillment of their goals. First, we have Titans who have violated the sacred boundaries of mankind by breaking through Wall Maria. Second, we have Titans who have infiltrated humanity itself, sowing discord and paranoia from within. Third, we have leaders who oppose the views of the main characters, and are thus viewed as self-serving and incompetent. It’s never the main character’s fault when something goes wrong; what prevents the main character from achieving what he wants is always a ferocious enemy, an insidious plot, or a failure to trust in one’s own feelings over the opinions of others. That’s a dirty secret of the fascist view of the world; I’ve already said that the fascist cannot abide the thought of living in peace with a rival nation. But a fascist movement thrives off of the momentum of the perpetual crisis, and thus cannot exist without the rival to define itself against. As Ernest Gellner points out, if everyone in the world was to convert to Christianity or Islam, the concept of Christianity or Islam would still have meaning - these identity labels can exist meaningfully even without an Other to define itself against. This is not the case with a nation, which defines itself as a distinct set of people, and this is even less true of a fascistic nation, which thrives best when it has enemies both within and without. We see this clearly in Nazi Germany with the concept of the lebensraum, or “living space.” Simply put, according to the Nazi regime, the Germanic peoples did not have the room it needed to thrive, and thus needed to expand. The German people were supposedly in a seminal point in history, where it either had to both expand and purify itself, or go extinct. This was an apparently urgent need, something that had to be accomplished soon, a desire so strong that the two groups acting as obstacles to fulfilling this goal were oppressive by means of their very existence; namely, the Slav already living in the lands that the Nazi regime wanted, and the Jew living among the Germanic peoples. But these weren’t the only enemies, either; anyone who questioned the need for or methods of attaining this lebensraum were also enemies, and this category would expand to include basically anyone who didn’t explicitly affirm the idea. Communists, Jews, Jehovah’s Witnesses, non-Aryans; all of these interior enemies added to the crisis, necessitating witch hunts to “purify” the Germans, with horrific results. Now, there are a lot of groups and organizations that thrive on the concept of the perpetual crisis; the Catholic Church positions itself as the Ark of Noah, keeping the faithful safe in a sea of modernist heresy; the feminist movement in recent years has emphasized chronic feelings of fear that women experience in masculinized environments, with some prominent figures taking some pretty strong positions on the #MeToo movement (Michael Che’s Kavanaugh statement comes to mind). Neither of these stances are inherently fascist, though both have the potential to become fascistic. But let’s use a slogan that wraps both the Golden Age and the Perpetual Crisis up nicely: “Make America Great Again.” The slogan clearly presupposes two things; first, that America was great at one point, and second, America is no longer great. The “greatness” America experienced seems to be located sometime before the sixties, usually during or shortly after the Second World War; we fought the Nazis and won, after all! And we came out of the Depression. Things weren’t great for many Americans, but the subgroup that was usually identified with the nation itself (middle-class, White, native-born) was doing pretty well for itself. The groups associated with America’s fall from greatness (Marxists, civil rights activists, leftist politicians) are usually those groups that challenge this Golden Age narrative. The Nazis depicted the German nation as a defeated, emasculated nation that was suffocating under the weight of the pressure placed on it; it needed more living space. The less optimistic sections of conservative Americans depicts the American nation as a declining power, rotting from the inside because of people bashing the pillars that had allowed America to stand in the first place; the Christian nation is allowing more and more Muslim immigrants even as it faces the threat of Islamic terrorism; the primarily White nation must pander to black civil rights activists and Mexican immigrants even as these populations continue to increase; a proud nation of tradition is finding its traditional ways of life slowly eroding because of modernity and an enabling, multicultural, secular liberalism. I’m not saying that America doesn’t have problems. The way it is depicted above, however, encourages the suppression of minorities and encourages conservatives to see themselves as the True Americans defending what is left of Authentic America. Like the Eldians, who depose a king because of his policy of non-violence, some Americans would like to live in a world where agitating activists are at least silenced, if not eliminated (“If you don’t like it here, move somewhere else”). Faced with the possibility of allowing power to reside in a family that would rather keep the Eldians isolated from the world and at peace in the Walls, Eren opts to murder that family in order to seize power for himself. Having finally eliminated the threat of the Titans on the island of Paradis, Eren shifts his view to Marley across the sea. The survival of the in-group is what matters most, and in a fascist worldview you must be willing to do whatever it takes in order to ensure that survival. Every disagreement is a matter of life or death, every inconvenience an existential threat; the stakes can never be too high, and your side can never be too zealous in its actions. I’m not sure how to solve the problem of dealing with enemies from without; I’m not going to touch that. But in terms of dealing with struggle from within, I’d suggest first and foremost an elimination of the us vs. them attitude. The fascist sees disagreement as malicious sabotage. We have to see political opponents as people who are equally as invested in this nation, and whose disagreements with ourselves is coming from a place of authentic concern. We have to stop attributing malicious intent where other explanations are possible; a pro-choicer declaring that pro-lifers ultimately wish to control and punish women distorts their argument and demonizes them; declaring someone who doesn’t want limits on immigration to be pro-white genocide distorts their argument and demonizes them. As a final topic, it should be noted that fascists often claim to represent the true feelings of the people, and are thus justified in accomplishing their goals as ruthlessly as possible. One of the dangers of claiming legitimacy through the people, however, is that the people are more than capable of disagreeing with you; the fascist may ignore this, overriding the general will and choosing to do what they think is best for the people. Rabindranath Tagore wrote a book back during the first agitations for Indian independence, a book called The Home and the World. Using the metaphor of husband and wife, it argues that if you are going to treat a person or group of people as if they have the right to self-determination, you have to be prepared to accept decisions that you feel don’t reflect their best interests; if you’re going to treat a government as if its power ultimately comes from the people, you have to put your money where your mouth is and take their decisions and requests seriously. Just something to think about.

#Attack on Titan #Fascism #United States #politics #Long Post #Rabindranath Tagore

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novakspector · 5 years

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The paranoia about teenagers and sex and drinking, and conceptualizing everyone under the age of 18 as one group - “minors” - doesn’t exist in most of the world, it never has, and is a relatively modern concept with roots in WASP Puritanism. It’s not one I buy into at all, and never have, as I was largely on my own while I was still a “minor.”

I have a bunch of thoughts about this topic because it was a big one growing up, and seeing my friends who were raised Evangelical go through so much trauma relating to sexual morality. My first girlfriend- the person I lost my virginity to as a teen, was raised in this Evangelical atmosphere of moral paranoia about teens and sex and “abstinence only" mentality.

Teenagers are not children, they are young adults and that’s how they should be treated. We give people learning to drive a car a learner’s permit. That’s how we ought to treat teenagers- as provisional adults, rather than lumping them under the same umbrella as babies and kindergarteners. If you’re asking teens to plan out their entire future education and career path, but then when it comes to things like drinking alcohol, smoking, drugs, and sex saying, “no, you’re a child!” that’s hypocrisy. It’s dishonest and it’s not a reality-based worldview. You’ll never see me joining in any moral outrages in fandoms about who is writing fanfic about “minors” when they mean characters who are like 16 or 17. I was doing all kinds of stuff by that age. I did whatever I wanted starting around the age of 13, because that’s how my parents were raised and that’s just how it was.

My dad had a European upbringing and it’s normal in our family for kids to drink beer and wine. So all this stuff in the US media about “teens drinking beer!!ZOMG!” was really funny to me growing up. Beer is not a big deal. In my husband’s family it’s the same way. He started going to the store and buying vodka when he was 14. The age of consent where he is from is 12, because some people in the Romany culture get married around that age.

When you live in a country of prosperity the way America is where even the poorest can live like kings compared to the rest of the world, you have the luxury of coddling everyone until they’re 25, and everyone can be a big whiny adult baby crying all the time for mommy (the government/the media/the forum moderator/social media staff/the internet mob) to do something about the mean person who hurt my feeeeewingggs, because everyone is bored and they don’t have to face much in the way of real hardship. That’s why we see people in fandoms saying ridiculous stuff, like “you’re technically a minor until you’re 25 because that’s when your brain stops developing″ and worrying about age gaps between people who are adults. You can do that because you live in the midst of a cushy empire. So there’s a big difference between, say, middle-class white Americans who set all the standards here for everyone else (and also the entire internet apparently), East Europeans growing up under communism, and people growing up in a war zone in Afghanistan, in terms of how you conceptualize age and how you view life.

But back to this this moral hysteria about teens and sex and drinking. It’s mainly a thing in White Protestant English-speaking America (still the dominant culture in the US) and is related to the history of Puritanism- the same thing that also gave rise to the Temperance Movement and resultant Prohibitions (of alcohol and later cannabis), and stuff like Kellogg’s and the Anti-Masturbation Movement, and various streams of scientific racism which culminated in the Eugenics Movement. All of this stuff- banning alcohol, Reefer Madness, eating Kellogg’s cornflakes to stop masturbation, eugenics- all of it was just White Anglo Saxon Protestants freaking out about ‘their’ country becoming more diverse and having to share space and power with people with different perspectives and ways of life. It’s still going on (what do you think MAGA is?). It’s basically just racist nonsense, that still infects our national way of thinking and our accepted sense of morality without most of us knowing it.

The hypersexualization of teens in media that comes from Hollywood (pretty much every 80′s movie about coming of age, that weird animated show “Big Mouth,” are good examples), is a direct result of this moral hysteria. These movies about teens and sex was a way of Hollywood being counter-cultural and irreverent and rebellious, against this heavy handed moral panic. Now we have swung the other way, and we have people engaging in a heavy handed moral panic of their own, pointing fingers at that very same material and how “problematic” it was, when it was indeed intended to be problematic. Those “problematic” teen sex movies in the 1980′s were a protest against monotonous Evangelical religious dogma that was on the rise and prevalent in society at the time. Being from a non-religious, non-observant, mixed background family, the Protestant Puritan sexual morality thankfully wasn’t part of my upbringing, but the resultant hypersexualization in media was something I was exposed to. So for the longest time, I couldn’t understand why sex was such a big deal, because I didn’t have 2 halves of the equation like my most of my friends did.

“Protect children from perverts” was also a big anti-gay mantra for the entire 1980′s when the Evangelical right wing was on the rise and creating conspiracy theories about Satanic abuse in daycare and attacking rock music, video games, Dungeons & Dragons. And all of it, again, fueled by the paranoia about White Anglo Saxon Protestant segment of the population losing power and influence. So it’s interesting to me, to see fandoms comprised of “woke” people latch onto this very American, old fashioned, and very Anglo idea of morality and shout from the rooftops that it’s the right way and the only way. It’s not really surprising though, because the Evangelical right wing and the SJW (for lack of a better term for them) brigade both have the same censorious impulses and desire to label, control, and destroy others.

I’m talking here about older teens having sex, of course. I’m talking about like 16 and 17 and 18. You’re still a kid when you’re going through puberty. You’re not ready for sex emotionally, physically, or psychologically, as soon as you start having sexual thoughts. You’re ready when you’re a young adult and gain a bit of perspective and sense. If you have enough sense to seriously plan out your career goals, you have enough sense to choose what you want to do with your body sexually.

I’m happily married to someone the same age as me, and I have always preferred partners the same age or older. My first sexual experience was with someone who was a little older than me. My first serious relationship was with someone twice my age. I don’t fuck teens, but I was a teen who fucked. It didn’t damage me or ruin me or traumatize me, because I was not saddled with this shame and guilt based morality in the first place. After I had sex, I wondered what the big deal was. I was expecting that I would feel different somehow, what with the way the media depicts losing your virginity as the most important thing and biggest deal ever. And the way religion and culture acts like girls and women are RUINED and TAINTED FOREVER afterwards.

But I was just the same person.

It’s not the fun, consensual sex you have at age 16 that’s traumatizing, it’s the moral panic that precedes it that makes it that way. If you take that out, the way it was taken out of the equation for me, it’s not a big deal. Teens have been fucking for millions of years, and teens are going to fuck regardless of what anyone says or does. Who cares? I don’t care. Tell them the truth. Teach them about safe sex and consensual sex. Teach them about healthy relationships. Teach them how to recognize creeps. Put some trust into them. Teach them to only have sex when they feel like they’re ready- and not a moment before. I would say, in general, wait until you’re 16 because by that time you’re generally ready to decide what you want to do in life. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it’s the age when most people lose their virginity, on average.

I just want people to understand the world is full of different cultural standards and perspectives on this issue and others, and that WASP Americans and their creepy paranoias from the 1900′s don’t get to dictate morality to everyone else or the entire internet.

#nellie's long ass shitposts

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news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog · 6 years

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17 terrifying creepypastas guaranteed to keep you up at night

The age-old tradition of telling ghost stories around a campfire has gotten a digital upgrade with creepypastas — scary stories or pictures that spread across message boards, becoming internet lore that are discussed both on and offline.

People around the word share their bizarre and terrifying creepypastas, hoping that the tales will gain popularity and become classics, often quoted or cited by horror fans and frightened netizens.

Like with the ghost stories of old, not all creepypastas are particularly scary or good, even if they are frequently passed around. Reading a long story with an interesting title or image is no guarantee of a frightening payoff, and the writers often forget that just having someone meeting a quick and unfortunate fate does not an interesting story make.

When a real gem of a creepypasta is found, it makes all the searching and scavenging worth it (at least until it's time to fall asleep). So grab a friend, turn off the lights, and prepare to be scared to scroll any further — here are 17 of the scariest creepypastas.

1. The Slender Man

A post shared by SLENDERMAN ™ ☛ALWAYЅ WATCHES (@slender.mxn) on Aug 23, 2018 at 12:40pm PDT

Before this pale, faceless ghoul had his own movie and video game series, he haunted the forums of the internet with his finely pressed suit and unnaturally long limbs. The Slender Man's story is not a narrative one, but a pseudo-historical look at this monster's history with humanity that is tied into several other creepypastas.

Typically, the Slender Man preys on children and those who become obsessed with his existence, though no one knows exactly what happens to the bodies since no one has ever escaped from an encounter with him. Suggested stories featuring the Slender Man include The Tall Man and the Marble Hornets videos.

In the real world, this creepypasta figure became a key figure during an assault and subsequent criminal case in 2014 involving three 12-year-old girls. Wisconsin teens Anissa Weier and Morgan Geyser, lured their friend, Payton Leutner, into the woods during a game of hide-and-seek. In an reported attempt to appease Slender Man, the duo stabbed Leutner 19 times and left her at the scene. Leutner managed to drag herself to a nearby road where a cyclist found her, and she was immediately taken to a hospital where she recovered from her injuries.

Soon after the attack, Weier and Geyser were arrested and tried for attempted second-degree murder. In 2017, Weier was sentenced to 25 years in a mental institution, while her accomplice Geyser was sentenced to 40 years in a mental hospital in 2018.

2. Candle Cove

A post shared by Nicky (@burialshroud) on Mar 6, 2018 at 12:52pm PST

Everyone has a television show from their childhood that they fondly remember. Like those who nostalgically recall the adventures of Dora the Explorer, Mister Rogers, and Sesame Street, some adults rediscovered their favorite show from the 1970s, Candle Cove, on a television forum in this creepypasta. Slowly, their memories of the show grow darker and more disturbing until one of the adults asks his mother about the true nature of the show.

The forum format of the story adds a spooky realism to the tale, also making it easy to recreate and share on other boards. If you find this story particularly compelling, watch the first season of the Syfy original series Channel Zero, which is based off this creepypasta.

3. Robert the Doll

A post shared by 😱معرفی فیلم های ترسناک👻 (@filme_tarsnak) on Apr 3, 2018 at 12:48am PDT

Not for the faint of heart, Robert the Doll really exists. The myths surrounding him vary, especially since it became so popular on the internet. The doll was given to artist Robert Eugene Otto in the late 1800s or early 1900s by a servant working in his family home. The doll, which he named after himself, then took on a life of its own and began to terrorize the family.

Otto is said to have kept his doll into adulthood and it subsequently tormented his late wife to insanity. When the doll was found by another family, the girl to whom it was given was terrified of it and refused to have it in her room.

The doll is currently residing in the Fort East Martello Museum in Key West, Florida. Visitors must ask Robert politely if they want to take his photo. If they mock him or take his photo without permission, Robert is said to lay a curse on them.

4. Anasi's Goatman Story

A post shared by Only Stupid Answers (@onlystupidanswers) on Aug 15, 2016 at 10:04am PDT

Based on a Native American legend, this creepypasta was originally found on 4Chan's paranormal board /x/, where some of the best creepypastas can be found.

The story follows a teenager who goes down to Alabama to be with his extended family. While he, his cousins, and their friends are camping out in the woods, they see a strange figure — the Goatman — jerking and spouting gibberish as it follows them. They spend the rest of the night in fear as the Goatman slowly infiltrates the group, terrorizing the teens into a frenzied state of paranoia.

This mix of pre-existing lore and new narrative is not rare for creepypastas, but it's the strength of the writing that really makes this particular story worth sharing. There are variations of this story, but most follow a similar formula where a group is stalked by the titular monster with different outcomes.

5. The Russian Sleep Experiment

A post shared by All Things Horror Lover (@allthingshorrorlover) on May 5, 2018 at 1:10pm PDT

A staple of best creepypasta lists everywhere, the title of this story itself carries with it a sense of dread and horror. Shortly after World War II, five political prisoners are subjected to an experiment in which they have to remain awake for 30 days in a tank filled with an experimental gas. As with most science-gone-wrong stories, the test subjects begin to lose their minds among a number of other gruesome symptoms. The horror does not end when the experimenters try to save their subjects — far from it.

Just know that this story may not be appropriate if you are squeamish or dislike gore, as the narrative goes into graphic detail about the physical state of the patients. Thankfully there are no pictures, or this would be the ultimate nightmare fuel.

6. Jeff the Killer

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A post shared by @creepypasta_0505 on Sep 4, 2018 at 10:30pm PDT

If you've never laid eyes on the infamous image of Jeff the Killer before, consider yourself lucky. The basic story concerns Jeff, a serial killer who hides in the closet and whispers "go to sleep" to its victim before slaughtering everyone in the household. Even more disturbing than his M.O. is his appearance — his face is smooth and stark white, a huge grin and small lid-less eyes. He is one of the most easily recognizable creepypastas, with his eerie stare posted across forums.

His origin story involves a fight that resulted in a chemical burn on his face and caused him to suffer a mental break. Soon after, he murdered his family and disappeared into the night to make guest appearances in your nightmares.

7. BEN Drowned

A post shared by you shouldn't have done that (@ben.is.drown) on May 3, 2016 at 4:04am PDT

Hacked video games are often found in creepypastas, but none is more infamous than BEN Drowned, the story of Matt, a college-age boy who picks up a hacked cartridge of The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask at a garage sale.

As the boy plays, he captures the strange occurrences in the game and real life until it ultimately culminates into a full haunting. The narrator and BEN's fates are left up to the reader's imagination, but the tale implies that a happy ending is not in the realm of possibility.

This creepypasta is one of the few that integrate multiple types of media into the story. There is the text of the story itself — both a formal post version that went up on 4Chan's /x/ forums in real time and a diary included on the final post — and videos of the disturbing gameplay under the YouTube channel Alex Hall (originally Jadusable). The footage includes a warped soundtrack, terrifying glitches, and a creepy statue that is supposed to be BEN following the player around.

While the story is clearly fictional, the level of dedication to creating this eerie story makes it worth the read.

8. Persuaded

A post shared by Dark Town (@darktown.cz) on Jul 12, 2017 at 6:29am PDT

Zombies definitely have a place in creepypastas, especially after having taken over the majority of pop culture. However, in the spirit of keeping readers on their toes, these zombies don't need frenzied biting to increase their numbers, which elevates this tale above and beyond other zombie-inspired creepypastas.

After a massive oil spill, all those touched by the substance begin to viciously attack other creatures, causing mass panic across the country. The nameless protagonist holes himself up in his apartment, waiting for the screaming, violent horde to come crashing through his door and tear him limb from limb. If only that had actually happened, instead of the two day-long nightmare that really unfolds.

9. Smile Dog

A post shared by Son Of Darkness (@son_of.darkness) on Aug 24, 2018 at 5:57am PDT

If there's any story on this list that best captures the message "be careful what you wish for," Smile Dog is it. The creepypasta deals with an image posted on an old bulletin board system back in 1992 called smile.jpg. Those who saw the image either disappeared or died, save for one Mary E., who the narrator goes to interview. What he eventually learns is that some things, even simple pictures, are better left as mysteries than dealing with the horrifying truth.

In case you were wondering, the story does come with an accompanying image, but you may not want to see it after reading the full story. Though, in the end, you may not have a choice.

10. Annora Petrova

A post shared by The Unknown (@daily_creepypasta) on Jan 4, 2015 at 9:27am PST

This tale reminds us that it's best not to Google yourself, no matter how tempting it may be. Annora Petrova was one of the most promising figure skaters in the United States, until she discovered a sentient Wikipedia page about her. After trying to selfishly alter her fate by editing the page, her life spirals out of control in the most unexpected ways, until she is a friendless orphan (which isn't even the worst part).

While the Wikipedia page does not actually exist, it's a harrowing tale about messing with the unknown forces of the internet. If you do check this story out, make sure you click on the image at the bottom of the email for an extra layer of spookiness.

11. NoEnd House

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Yo, if you're not watching #ChannelZero on #SyFy get 👏 on 👏 that 👏 shit! Each season is a different story, season 1 is on Shudder, the other two are on SyFy.com #horror #candlecove #noendhouse #butchersblock

A post shared by WHO GOES THERE PODCAST (@whogoestherepodcast) on Aug 18, 2018 at 9:34am PDT

Haunted houses are at the center of many famous scary narratives, and surviving the night in one earned teenagers instant respect. Still, is the potential trauma and death worth the admiration of people who you'll likely never see again after graduation? This creepypasta answers with a firm and decisive "no."

NoEnd House promises $500 to whomever can survive a trip through its nine rooms of torture, a challenge that our narrator David readily accepts. The rooms begin to grow increasingly sinister and evil, pushing the limits of David's psyche and humanity. Are nine rooms really worth such a small monetary compensation that won't even pay for one therapy session?

The Syfy series Channel Zero also covers this creepypasta in its second season if you want to add some visuals to this spooky story.

12. Psychosis

A post shared by The Art Of Milta Svartvis (@nordteufel) on Aug 24, 2018 at 6:31am PDT

Can you really trust what you see and feel? Is your life all a computer simulation? Do we live in the Matrix? Are we all just people in someone's else dream that is bound to end? Is this the real life, or is this just fantasy?

Existentialism may not be the scariest of philosophies, but Psychosis shows that proving human existence beyond innate fears and paranoia is an inner battle that can never be won.

John soon finds out that he's been cut off from the rest of the world — his only communication with other people is through electronic devices. He quickly becomes paranoid and becomes convinced that everyone around him is lying, trying to get him to come outside his door so an unknown entity can get him. His logic tries to defy his gut feeling, but he falls further into the belief that something has gone horribly wrong outside, and it's coming for him next.

13. Doors

A post shared by The Unknown (@daily_creepypasta) on May 17, 2014 at 1:48pm PDT

This creepypasta is popular for its Shyamalan-esque nature. The tale follows a family with a young male narrator who talks about their daily lives together.

One night, the household is attacked by a mysterious figure that our intrepid protagonist tries to chase out. Giving any more of the plot away would ruin the surprise, but this story proves that brevity can be an effective tool when used to properly horrifying and amaze.

14. Gateway of the Mind

A post shared by Synther (@creepypastap0sts) on Jun 23, 2013 at 9:29am PDT

Ever wonder what would happen if you couldn't see, hear, smell, taste, or touch? Well, this creepypasta is here to put that theory to the test in what is honestly the most terrifying science experiment.

The story centers around a group of scientists who wish to make contact with God, and they believe that this could be possible by removing the body of all five senses. After performing a complex sensory surgery on a test subject, the poor person is completely disoriented and begins to hallucinate and "hear" people who have passed away.

What happens at the end is extremely meta, but the grueling details involving the pure mental torture the subject goes through is enough to absolutely creep anyone out.

15. The Rake

A post shared by Creepypasta is my life❤ (@creepylenya) on Jan 20, 2018 at 12:35am PST

This monster may not be as famous as his cousin, Slender Man, but he sure is just as creepy. The Rake is a humanoid creature that is completely pale, hairless, and has a thirst for human flesh.

According to Know Your Meme, this creature was originally created in 4chan's /b/ board where someone opened a "make your own monster" thread. The description that eventually became a part of The Rake was, "no apparent mouth, pale skin, six feet tall when standing, but usually crouches and walks on all fours, no nose, no mouth," and many other disturbing physical features.

Eventually this creature played a central role in many creepypastas. Most of these stories primarily involve documented encounters with the monster, and more often than not, the person dealing with The Rake never makes it out alive.

16. Lavender Town Syndrome

A post shared by Aura\|/ (@aurablade0012) on Mar 11, 2016 at 7:55pm PST

A classic video game creepypasta that hits a little too close to home for those of us who grew up playing the original Pokémon Red and Blue during the late '90s. This creepypasta centers around the game Pokémon Green, which was only released in Japan in 1996.

According to the legend, rates of illness and suicide in children in Japan between the ages of 7-12 have reached a fever pitch. The common connection between all of them? They all played Pokémon Green and had reached an area known as Lavender Town whose theme music had extremely high pitches.

After conducting studies on this phenomenon that became known as "Lavender Town Syndrome," scientists realized that there was a certain tone in the town's music that only the ears of young children and teens could hear. This had essentially drove this demographic who played the game to insanity, causing them to have headaches, ear issues, and die from suicide.

While this sparked many theories and creepypastas surrounding Lavender Town and the original Pokémon games, this creepypasta is actually loosely based off a real-life incident involving a Pokémon episode that only aired in Japan in 1997.

During the airing of the 38th episode of the original Pokémon television series titled Electric Soldier Porygon, a scene that made use of extreme flashing images gave hundreds of children epileptic seizures.

17. The Expressionless

A post shared by the eEyore (@the.eeyore) on Jul 24, 2018 at 6:52am PDT

In this creepypasta classic, a woman wearing a white gown that was covered in blood stumbled into a hospital in 1972. According to the nurse who is recounting this event, she said that this woman had the appearance of a mannequin, but was very much human-like in her movement and mannerisms.

After throwing a kitten she had clamped in her jaws on the ground, doctors and nurses rushed the woman into a hospital room for evaluation. Little does the hospital staff know that they have no idea who, or rather what, they're dealing with.

WATCH: These are the creepiest dolls we've ever seen

This story was originally published in 2013 and updated in 2018.

#_uuid:1aadc453-4bc8-36d4-913b-77dbb7a37915 #_category:yct:001000002 #_lmsid:a0Vd000000DTrEpEAL #_author:Xavier Piedra #_revsp:news.mashable

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papermoonloveslucy · 6 years

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LUCY & HENRY FONDA ~ Part One

1935-1968

Lucille Ball and Henry Fonda were more than just co-workers. When Lucy first got to Hollywood, the two actually briefly dated. Lucy remembers,

"We worked long and hard, Ginger [Rogers] and I, in front of our mirrors. We used eye shadow, plenty of mascara, pancake [make-up], deep red lipstick, rouge, everything we'd been taught in the studio cosmetic department. Then we went out to Brentwood, that's where the boys lived. My date was Fonda. Ginger's date was [Jimmy] Stewart. Henry cooked the dinner, and after we ate, Ginger and the boys turned on the radio in the living room and Ginger tried to teach them ‘The Carioca.’ I was left doing the dishes. When I finished, we went out dancing at the Coconut Grove. Freddie Martin's orchestra. There we were, Ginger and I in our long organdy dresses, looking just as summery and smooth as we could. The date stretched into daybreak. We'd had a hilarious, wonderful evening that came to an end at Barney's Beanery. Well, it was dark and we went in and light when we came out. Hank and Jim took one look at us and said, 'What happened?' We said, 'What do you mean what happened?' And Jimmy Stewart said, 'Well, your nighttime makeup is on awful heavy for this time of the morning.' And Henry Fonda said, 'Yuk!'"

In 1975 Fonda told this story at “The Dean Martin Celebrity Roast” for Lucille Ball. Ginger Rogers was also in attendance. He added that "If I hadn't said, 'Yuk!', if I'd behaved myself, they might have named that studio Henrylu, not Desilu."

Perhaps it is a good thing that Fonda and Ball never married as genealogists point out that they are related - 8th cousins. The pair acted in three feature films together and made numerous television appearances opposite one-another. Curiously, although he was sometimes mentioned, Fonda never guest-starred on a “Lucy” sitcom.

I Dream Too Much (1935)

Producer: Pandro S. Berman Director: John Cromwell Choreographer: Hermes Pan Screenplay: Elsie Finn (story), David G. Wittels (story), Edmund North Songs: Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields

Cast: Lily Pons (Annette Monard Street), Henry Fonda (Jonathan Street), Eric Blore (Roger Briggs), Osgood Perkins (Paul Darcy), Lucien Littlefield (Hubert Dilley), Lucille Ball (Gwendolyn Dilley)

Synopsis: Annette Monard Street (Lily Pons) is an aspiring singer, who falls in love with and marries Jonathan Street (Henry Fonda), a struggling young composer. Jonathan pushes her into a singing career, and she soon becomes a star. Meanwhile, Jonathan is unable to sell his music, and he finds himself jealous of his wife's success. Concerned about their relationship, Annette uses her influence to get Jonathan's work turned into a musical comedy. Once she achieves this, she then retires from public life in order to raise a family.

"Lucille replaced Betty Grable, an eighteen-year-old stock player... in the minor role of Gwendolyn Dilley, a bleached-blonde gum-chewer visiting Paris with her parents and little brother.” ~ Kathleen Brady, Lucille

Gwendolyn Dilley (Lucille Ball): "Culture is making my feet hurt."

TRIVIA

At this point in her career, Lucy was a platinum blonde. She had dyed it from her natural mousy brown to get more attention from casting agents and producers. She did not begin coloring her hair its trademark red until the technicolor film Du Barry Was A Lady in 1943.

A brief clip of Lucy in the film is included in “Hollywood the Golden Years: The RKO Story: A Woman's Lot” (1987).

The Big Street (1942)

Producer: Damon Runyon Director: Irving Reis Screenplay: Leonard Spigelgass, based on the short story “Little Pinks” by Damon Runyon

Cast: Henry Fonda (Little Pinks), Lucille Ball (Gloria Lyons), Barton MacLane (Case Ables), Eugene Pallette (Nicely Nicely Johnson), Agnes Moorehead (Violette Shumberg), Sam Levene (Horsethief), Ray Collins (Professor B)

Uncredited actor Hans Conried played a waiter. On “I Love Lucy” he played Harry Martin in “Redecorating” (S2;E8) and Percy Livermore in “Lucy Hires an English Tutor” (S2;E13), both in 1952. He also did two episodes of “The Lucy Show,” both as her music tutor Dr. Gitterman in 1963.

'Queen of the Extras' Bess Flowers made numerous uncredited background appearances on both “I Love Lucy” and “The Lucy Show.”

Uncredited actor Gil Perkins (Mug) later turned up on a 1970 episode of “Here's Lucy” (S2;E21).

TRIVIA

During filming, Lucy's new husband Desi Arnaz felt so insecure about leaving Lucy and Fonda alone together that he’d often pop by the set to keep an eye on them. His paranoia so exasperated director Irving Reis that he finally banned him from the set.

This was Lucille Ball's favorite of her nearly 80 films. She felt her performance was unjustly ignored by the Academy.

Damon Runyon also created the source material for the hit Broadway musical Guys and Dolls (1950), which starred Robert Alda, who went on to make several appearances on “The Lucy Show.” The two stories share the character of Nicely Nicely Johnson. When the film version was made by MGM in 1955, Lucy and Desi were also under contract to the studio. A brief clip of the film was inserted into the middle of an episode of “I Love Lucy” called “Lucy and the Dummy” (S5;E3), although the clip was removed after its initial airing. Further, when Lucille Ball first came to Hollywood, before becoming a contract player at RKO, she worked for Sam Goldwyn as one of the Goldwyn Girls. In Guys and Dolls, the Hot Box Girls are played by the Goldwyn Girls.

Gloria Lyons (Lucille Ball): “Love is something that gets you one room, two chins, and three kids.”

A brief clip from the film is seen in “Lucy and Desi: A Home Movie.”

“The Good Years” (January 12, 1962)

Produced by: Leland Heyward Directed by: Franklin L. Schaffner

Cast: Lucille Ball, Henry Fonda, Mort Sahl, Margaret Hamilton (Narrator)

Characters included Teddy Roosevelt, Sandow the Bodybuilder, the Wright Brothers, J.P. Morgan, Lizzy Borden

TRIVIA

This CBS special was billed as 'Lucille Ball's return to television' after leaving Lucy Ricardo behind in April 1960. It would be several more months before the debut of “The Lucy Show” in Fall 1962.

Based on a best-selling book by Walter Lord first published in 1960 about the years leading up to World War One, the special was a hodge-podge of sketches and musical numbers about the time period 1900 through 1920.

Mort Sahl: “Lucille Ball came into rehearsal. She had a later call and a lot of doubts about the script.”

The 90-minute special was a critical failure and has largely been forgotten. There are few photographs and video copies are held at the Museum of Broadcasting.

“All About People” (1967)

Director: Saul Rubin

Narrators: Lucille Ball, Henry Fonda, Jack Benny, George Burns, Carol Channing, Eydie Gorme, Charleton Heston, Eartha Kitt, Burt Lancaster, Edward G. Robinson

TRIVIA

This was a 30-minute black and white documentary made by the United Jewish Welfare Fund about its history.

After marrying Gary Morton (nee Morton Goldapper), Lucille Ball was active in Jewish charities. On December 9, 1961, Lucy had appeared on the “Twelve Star Salute to the Federation of Jewish Philanthropies.”

Burns, Benny, and Gorme, all later made appearances on “Here's Lucy.” Edward G. Robinson did a cameo on “The Lucy Show.”

Although Ball and Fonda are both involved in the project, they likely recorded their narration separately.

Yours, Mine and Ours (1968)

Producer: Robert F. Blumofe Director: Melville Shavelson Screenplay: Melville Shavelson and Mort Lachman, with story by Bob Carroll Jr. and Madelyn Davis (Lucy’s TV writers), based on the book Who Gets The Drumsticks? by Helen Eileen Beardsley

Cast: Lucille Ball (Helen North Beardsley), Henry Fonda (Frank Beardsley), Van Johnson (Darrel Harrison)

Nancy Howard (Nancy Beardsley) made three appearances on “Here's Lucy.” Tim Matheson (Mike Beardsley) made an appearance on a 1972 “Here's Lucy” playing Kim Carter’s boyfriend.

Uncredited extras Leon Alton, Paul Bradley, Charles Cirillo, George Boyce, Paul King, Joseph LaCava, and Leoda Richards all made numerous background appearances on “The Lucy Show” and “Here's Lucy.”

Synopsis: A widower with ten children falls for a widow with eight, and they must decide about forming a huge, unconventional family.

TRIVIA

Jane Fonda claimed that her father was deeply in love with Lucy and that the two were "very close" during the filming of Yours, Mine and Ours but that Lucy wasn't in love with him.

After purchasing the rights to the book the film was based on, Lucille Ball became very close to the real Beardsleys and even treated the whole family to a vacation at Disneyland.

In 1959, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, still affiliated with MGM, were going to star as Frank and Helen Beardsley but the studio had trouble with the casting until the late 1960s. In addition, their marriage was then on the rocks, a situation which would have made working together on the optimistic comedy somewhat problematic.

Lucy's old friend John Wayne was initially considered to play Frank Beardsley. The role was cast with Fred MacMurray, but he was replaced by Henry Fonda.

Frank (Henry Fonda): “I don't quite understand. Am I being stupid?” Helen (Lucille Ball): “No, you're being a man. Which is sometimes the same thing.”

Lucille Ball co-produced the film under her company, Desilu Productions. When the film became a surprise smash hit grossing over $17 million on a $2.5 million investment, she hadn't anticipated the film's huge box-office success and failed to provide a tax shelter for her personal profits, resulting in most of her earnings going toward taxes.

The success of the film led to Lucy being considered to play Mrs. Brady in “The Brady Bunch,” a TV sitcom with a similar story of a blended family. Lucy decided to do her own sitcom, “Here's Lucy,” instead.

In 1968, Van Johnson guest starred on “Here's Lucy” as both himself and an impostor look-alike in “Guess Who Owes Lucy $23.50” (HL S1;E11). The dialogue contained references to Yours, Mine and Ours and their co-star Henry Fonda.

Van Johnson Impostor: “I loved working with that kooky redhead.” Lucy Carter: “Personally, I thought she was much too young for Henry Fonda.”

Johnson was in the cast of Too Many Girls, the film which introduced Lucy to Desi in 1940. Johnson also guest-starred on “I Love Lucy” in “The Dancing Star” (S4;E27) in 1955.

Click Here for Part Two: 1975 to 1979!

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strangemines · 6 years

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HOW DID YOU FIGHT, JOSHUA EUGENE?

you fought hard, lost over and over. your very own hologram that you had completely control of was now glitching, malfunctioning and using the very means of your hobbies against you. and your fears. and your paranoia. the ride went through and through, over and over, a continuous loop until your humanity somehow prevailed. but completely survive? you did not.

WHEN DID YOU COME TO, YOUNG DEMON?

you’re not sure. you remember the way you looked and saw the two rescue officers, but you don’t remember ripping the man apart limb by limb. you don’t remember the way that blackness came over you, an injection that quite possibly wouldn’t have penetrated thick ice skin if not right in time. you don’t remember waking up crazed in an all white room, chest heaving and mouth protruding more and more. what you do remember is little flashes of some things, like latin first, then native american tongues spoken towards you, your bones feeling snapped and torn apart. you remember a blinding light. you remember feeling earthly binds once again, though... that first time you truly woke up since taking that traumatic bite. you remember feeling as if you weren’t positive you wanted this.

WHEN DID YOU KNOW YOU’D NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN, NEWLY SAVED?

at first you believed it was demons from your past, from the inner workings of your mind. at first you thought it was merely your paranoia back at it again, an itch you can’t scratch just under the surface of the back of your neck. you remember the familiar and crushing feeling — the overwhelming fear of isolation. but it had multiplied, gotten so much worse. you’re not entirely sure when you picked up on the notion you’d never get yourself completely back, never be truly free of dark waters. maybe it’s when your stitches fell out and you were left with battle scars that extended from mouth to ear. maybe it was when you had to be given contacts, both to help your diminished sight and the very sight of your half dead, glassy eyes. if you ask him, though, and i mean more than once — he’ll tell you it was none of the above.

it was definitely when a borderline introvert became the extrovert, a small child terrified of both isolation and the fears it could bring. it was definitely when you knew you’d never be okay, ever again.

AND WHAT ARE YOUR POWERS, DEATH DANCER?

many things change that take years to get used to. for one? you keep the uncanny ability to mimic whatever you need, survival cutting in at the weirdest of times. your imitations, your changes, they’re all still there. for awhile you didn’t realize it was connected. it’s only when you go to the ruins of that place you fear so bad — only in the day, though. — and find a half charred notebook do you realize that it’s connected.

the next thing you notice is your abnormal strength, something you thought was merely just for superhero movies. weights become unnecessary for you, even the highest of settings being challenges that bore you... if you could even call them that. it’s fine, however. it comes handy in times of need, in times of field work and destruction. you learn to get used to it.

finally, the last ones that tend to stick around? your senses are more heightened than you remember, everything more vibrant in all areas than it used to be. you can hear a heartbeat from a room over, you pick up on certain smells before they hit most people’s olfactory nerves. the messy, greasy foods you used to love become nearly unpalatable, their issues becoming more and more present with time. your sight, however? that diminishes, along with the color forever remaining more glassy, more cloudy and like that of the recently deceased. uncomfortable contacts help, returning vision to 20/20. when you’re on your own, however, you tend to stick with glasses. more comfort than anything, truly.

disclaimer: this is lore based upon both the Anishinaabe mythology and some characterizations from the stock horror tropes as well.

#&. ' let's get into the theories. ( metas | headcanons. )#well here u go my dudes #long post cw

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tornrose24 · 7 years

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CU Tangled AU ideas, part 2

A continuation of the discusion of the CU Tangled AU (a friendship based AU with Harold as Rapunzel and George as Flynn/Eugene) with @princeasimdiya12 (so if it sounds like I’m talking to someone in particular, that is who I’m talking to). I made a new post so we wouldn’t have to keep reblogging the first one, which is super long at this point. I’d check the last/recent version of that post to understand what is going on/what we are talking about.

Also, I ended up doing some drawings for this AU, but I won’t be scanning or inking/coloring just yet.

The removal of the rainbows from the symbol would be an interesting choice.

The parents would have still been together after the abduction, but separated some time after Heidi was born. The queen loves Heidi, but she’s very paranoid of losing another child so Heidi either stayed behind palace walls or had to have an escort at all times when outside. Poor girl doesn’t have a lot of playmates or friends because of this.

Though I had this cute idea that CU eventually wanted to meet the queen at some point but ended up meeting Heidi instead. By this point she’s heard of him and admires everything she’s heard about regarding him, so she would never get him sent to prison or send him to Krupp who seems to REALLY hate CU more more than everything he does that gets on his nerves (like helping out the citizens and being so popular with the children of the kingdom). The two get along really well to the point it’s like Heidi got the dad she always wanted. She then asks CU if he could help find her brother so that her mom could be happy again, and CU promises he will–though after she has to clarify that Harold is probably NOT an infant after so many years passed by when CU assumes he’s supposed to be looking for a baby.

Also, Heidi probably jokingly told her mom that she wouldn’t mind having someone like CU as her stepdad. And Krupp overhears this or eventually finds out and has an EPIC reaction of horror and embarrassment. (And no, he doesn’t want to try to marry the queen for power–that would be a stupid cliche in my opinion.)

Anyway, CU tries to keep an eye out for Harold, but he always seems to completely miss the tower. However, Harold did catch a glimpse of CU on a stroke of luck through the window and heard him yell out his catch phrase. It happened so fast that Harold couldn’t do anything about it or even see his face, but he was excited about it and showed Edith a drawing of what he could make out. It gave them both hope that perhaps they could finally escape and be free once more. Perhaps one day they’ll see that strange man in just a cape and undergarments and he’d set them free.

I’m also adding the above because I want the boys to be connected before they finally meet in the present day. Especially since CU is a living representation of their friendship. Also when Harold finally meets CU, he’s at first shocked and thinks it’s one of the funniest/best things he’s ever seen, but then he realizes that he’s heard that ‘TRA-LA-LAA!’ before and gets excited that he finally met the strange man in so little clothing who can fly.

But it would be ironic because Krupp chasing George into a hiding spot that’s actually a secret passageway to the tower would partly be due to George trying multiple times to snap his fingers to bring CU out and Krupp frantically stops each one (especially if he does the ‘cover your ears and try to talk loudly’ route). So CU being around is what leads to George finding Harold/CU starting to fulfill his promise to Heidi.

I bet Edith knows what a dolphin looks like and the animal becomes Harold’s favorite creature to summon. Anyway, The Grimm’s fairytales weren’t a thing just yet in the timeframe of Tangled (which I think was supposed to be 1780 if the research was correct), so I think Edith would be familiar with the Charles Perrault stories as well as both versions of Beauty and the Beast (I think it would be insanely ironic if that was a story she liked. The idea of someone who seems like a beast but would be a prince deep down somewhere inside–even in a figurative sense–is very sweet and perfectly reflects the romance she has in the film/will soon have in this AU. I don’t know if she would like a fairytale like Cinderella after living out a similar story and being screwed over instead of gaining her freedom). So she recounts the fairytales to Harold and they amuse themselves by coming up with their own versions over time.

Also it turns out George and Harold love the same kind of stories–the ones with heroes to go as far as to break the rules to do the right thing. Stories like Robin Hood, yes, but also ones where the hero is silly and delusional, like Don Quixote (someone on tumblr ACTUALLY proposed a Don Quixote CU AU, but I don’t know where it went). The memories of his parents telling stories to him, as well as being able to tell his own stories to them, are among George’s most cherished memories.

I imagine that when George comes into the tower, he’s knocked out because they have no clue what is going on, but after the excitement, they hide him away. And there would be that moment like in the film where Ribble makes it point blank she’s NEVER going to let them leave the tower which is soul crushing for Harold but angers Edith–it’s one thing for the woman to put her down with so many insults as a way to keep her inside, but it’s another to insult the boy and deny him any freedom.

Cue the bargaining scene. And I love the set up and your idea of how things could be resolved so that the crown can be returned.

Considering how in the film Gothel snuck in and out o the castle like magic, the magical folk would have been among the first who were suspected, but she’s not too lost in her grief to ask for help. Lisa and Billy’s families were probably among the first to leave, but they were told about Krupp as a warning so it all clicks for them when they find out who is chasing George down. And yeah, I could see Krupp being gleeful at the idea of capturing two young spellcasters and making it a big deal while scaring them half to death. He also thinks they aren’t a threat because he doesn’t think children are as powerful as adults–boy was he proven wrong!

It takes him awhile to figure out what happened to him but unlike his book/film counterpart, he finds out and is it NOT a good moment for him. It’s to the point that capturing George becomes his personal goal (with goal number two being trying to find a way to undo the spell while keeping it a secret).

I guess recounting the story would have to be like a Gilligan cut, just to make things easier.

Krupp would recognize Edith as the person who was with the boys and while she pities him, she also would remind him that she should be the one whose angry because she was separated from the boys–one of whom she is very close with and swore to keep an eye out for. But I can see Krupp trying to keep his anger down and, after Edith shows some kindness towards him, he slowly starts to relax and drop his guard around her. Though he’s still trying to cover himself up when they go find the boys and when Edith tells him that CU was very sweet and not only acted like a gentleman towards her, but also saved her in the chaos of the destruction of the dam/quarry, it annoys him (not realizing he’s actually being jealous of his counterpart).

And when Krupp does find the boys, they pull the repeating switching personalities scenario to mess with him and also because it’s so funny.

Yeah, George would need to be in disguise–he’d probably wear a mask or something. He’d show Harold around town and even though Harold had his first time playing/hanging out with kids at the Snugly Duckling, it’s the first time he’s played together with someone his own age who shares similar likes and dislikes. And because Harold has so much fun, it makes everything new to George again and he can quit worrying about getting caught, never finding his family, or mean adults–he can be like a kid again. They would still do the boat and go out when there are all the lanterns, but it’s a moment of being friends–NO ROMANCE! None whatsoever! It’s a moment where they finally reach the best friend status without realizing it. (When George sacrifices his life to save Harold and Harold is willing to trade his freedom to save George, that is when they know for sure how strong that friendship is).

Ooooooh, rainbow lanterns. I love it. :)

Also, when I said that Krupp begins to let his guard down around Edith, she also promises to not let him switch on accident during the festival after the boys did the back-and-forth on him–especially because transforming without realizing it is a source of paranoia that keeps him from being comfortable around people and keeps him from enjoying himself. When it DOES happen, she is able to keep her promise and turns him back in a way that won’t make him miserable–like leading CU to a place with water before he can start throwing things off, getting her hand wet, and then placing it on his head like checking a fever. And when Krupp awakens, she smiles and says something like ‘See? I told you I’d keep my promise.’ So not only does this increase his ability to trust Edith and deepens his appreciation towards her, but it’s one of the moments that leads to him beginning to develop stronger feelings towards her (though he’d struggle with that, because he also thinks that there’s no way she’d like him back due to his reputation, the ‘curse,’ and that she seemed to favor CU more than him).

Yeah that stuff about him and George and figuring out Harold’s identity sounds about accurate.

That’s a clever choice for the roles of the Stabbington Brothers and makes sense. Though I bet that at one point Ribble catches a glimpse of Edith with Krupp and not only is mad at the woman’s betrayal, but she can’t stand Edith being happy, looking so beautiful in that moment, or with a man which is a clear sign she’ll lose her servant and be forced to do a lot of the chores if that happens. And that gives her more ways to attack Edith later on when she and Harold are forced to go back.

I did have this one, super dark idea that ties into the original fairy tale–when Harold realizes why he was placed in the tower in the first place and Edith tries to help him out once again, Ribble decides that Edith is disposable–she can always find another servant–and decides to invoke a slow death upon Edith by having her trapped under these super thorny hedges/bushes near the tower. There’s a couple of feet thick of thorns in the least dense areas outside the spot Edith is stuck in, but there are so many thorns that it would be super painful to try to break the bushes all apart. In fact, the thorns can also gradually sap away the strength or magic of anyone who gets scratched or pierced by them, just to twist the knife further. Meanwhile, there’s enough room for Edith to be able to sit up or lay down, but it’s still a nightmare of a place to be stuck in if you happen to hate small spaces. The idea is that Edith will die of starvation or die in her attempt to escape since she’s not that powerful or strong enough to begin with, and that ‘her bones will mingle with the thorns’ since no one will be able to find her. (Also, NO ONE GOES BLIND like in the story because of this. I don’t want to make this AU THAT gruesome).

Of course Edith WILL be found, but let’s save that discussion for another time.

Well, I don’t know how soon I can respond back with more ideas. Until then, Merry Christmas.

#cu tangled au #captain underpants #george beard #harold hutchins #edith the lunch lady #mr. krupp #principal krupp #heidi hutchins #lisa beard #billy hutchins #ms. ribble #a bunch of others #egg casserole #kruppxedith

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stephaniemarlowftw · 5 years

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DROWSE DIVES INTO THE DEPTHS OF NATURE AND ILLNESS WITH NEW “BIPOLAR 1” MUSIC VIDEO

The slowcore project will be releasing Light Mirror via The Flenser on June 7.

Drowse, the experimental slowgaze project heralded by multi-instrumentalist Kyle Bates, has never shied away from life’s darkest depths. His latest single, “Bipolar 1,” squares off with the illness and anguish that has colored his singular body of work. The track is the latest teaser of Drowse’s forthcoming album Light Mirror.

Watch the naturescaping video for “Bipolar 1” now via The Four Oh Five (or directly on YouTube).

Light Mirror seeks to answer a brief—but far from simple—question: “Who are we when we’re alone?” Throughout the recording process, Bates realized that this question is difficult to answer for others and himself. The album surfaced from Bates’ artist residency based in a desolate pocket of Northern Iceland, an experience that left him both socially isolated and creatively heightened.

Bates comments:

"This song came to me while I was re-reading my medical chart and thinking about my bipolar 1 diagnosis. I have always resisted this diagnosis and I refused to take Lithium after the first couple of years. I resist it because I am scared of it. It fits too perfectly. As a result, I never sleep very well and sometimes have paranoid delusions ('voices in the night') that I hide from others.

'Bipolar 1' is largely about the manic self of bipolar disorder, a version of Kyle that feels totally alien to me when I try to remember periods of life when he was dominant. The manic side of me finds 'god' –meaning in life– in music, but the depressed side sees this as a delusion; Drowse songs are identified as 'fence posts:' when I write these songs I feel safe because I am creating my own world, in turn working on this music builds a fence around me that closes me off further from other people.

The video was initially utilized–with Light Mirror in mind–for my installation work, Second Self, which was developed and exhibited during a residency at Studio Kura in Fukuoka, Japan. It was created through my practice of internal mapping, in this case cataloging physical things my unconscious self was drawn to while walking. Visual patterns emerged as hours of footage were edited down to this four minute piece. The footage was ripe with images of (self) deception–smoke and mirrors."

With Bates’ longtime creative partner, Maya Stoner, lending vocals, Light Mirror pushes past Drowse’s slowcore roots in favor of a more prismatic sound teeming with hints of experimental electronic, noise pop, black metal, and krautrock. What remains constant, though, is Drowse’s rumination on the idea of multiple selves, identity, paranoia, fear of the body, alcohol abuse, social media, the power of memory, the truths that are revealed when we are alone, and the significance of human contact.

Light Mirror will be released on June 7 via The Flenser and preorders are available here. See Drowse on tour this July -- a complete list of tour dates can be found below.

Light Mirror — Track Listing:

1. Imposter Syndrome

2. Between Fence Posts

3. Shower Pt. 2

4. Bipolar 1

5. Physical World

6. A Song I Made in 2001 With My Friend Who is Now Dead

7. Arrow

8. Oslo

9. Internal World

10. Betty

11. “Don’t Scratch the Wound”

Drowse — On Tour:

June 13 Portland, OR @ Black Water Bar (Record Release)

July 12 Seattle, WA @ Highline *

July 13 Portland, OR @ High Water Mark *

July 15 Eugene, OR @ Old Nick’s *

July 16 Oakland, CA @ Elbo Room *

July 17 Los Angeles, CA @ Lexington *

July 18 San Diego, CA @ Space Bar *

July 19 Phoenix, AZ @ Rebel Lounge *

July 20 Albuquerque, NM @ Gold House *

July 21 Denver, CO @ Hi-Dive *

July 22 Salt Lake City, UT @ Diabolical Records *

July 23 Boise, ID @ TBA *

July 24 Spokane/Olympia, WA @ TBA *

* w/ Elizabeth Colour Wheel

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stillness-in-green · 7 years

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Going Out (For Drinks)

So this is very much a first draft, but I wanted to put it out where someone other than me could look at it. I will clean this up for AO3 eventually, very possibly lengthen it out, but for now, have this, a fic for Chad and Yamagi where they very, very slowly figure things out.

Norba Shino and Chad Chadan are nothing alike.

It’s just as well.

The first time they meet for drinks is a complete coincidence. Yamagi had bullied Yukinojo into going home early, the better to spend time with his still-new daughter, and taken the rest of the office work to the old man’s preferred bar to finish up. Chad had chosen the bar at random, not so much because he’d wanted a drink as because he’d been prodded into it by Makanai, who still took the time after his calls to Kudelia to catch up with the young man who’d saved his life.

“I don’t really—drink on my own,” Chad confesses, rubbing at the back of his head. He’s wearing his suit jacket, the pressed, clean blue of it out of place in the surroundings—the dim light and discolored wood of the booth. “Only ever at events.”

“Have you ever tried beer?” Yamagi asks with mild curiosity, and offers a sip from his glass when Chad shakes his head.

Chad, who is very polite, does his best to hide the wince at his first sip—a twist of his lips downward, a rapid blinking—and passes back the glass. “It’s very…”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Yamagi finishes, finding himself amused. “I didn’t like it much the first time the old man let me try one of his, either. But it’s kind of nice, after work.”

They linger for longer than Yamagi had been planning to stay, talking about simple things—Yamagi’s work, which Chad does not really understand, and Chad’s work, which Yamagi can’t imagine putting up with. With a politician’s grace—though whether it’s his own uncertainty or rubbed off on him from Kudelia and Makanai, Yamagi can’t say—Chad asks for a beer recommendation and spends the rest of the evening slowly putting it down.

The second time is not an accident, exactly, but still unplanned. Yamagi finds Chad in the same place a week later, sitting straight-backed at the bar and making awkward conversation with the bartender.

Yamagi, who’s greeted with, “Take responsibility for this,” rescues the both of them by retiring the conversation back to the corner booth Chad had found him at before.

“I’m sorry,” Chad begins, looking embarrassed—more than embarrassed, but legitimately stung, like he’s been reprimanded.

“It’s fine,” Yamagi replies. “The important part about relaxing with a drink after work is relaxing, though.”

“R-Right.”

Chad, it turns out, is good at taking advice, very studious with recommendations, but not very good at all at relaxing. He fidgets with the glass he’d brought with him from the bar, which is nearly untouched. Yamagi pushes his own, fresh glass, its smooth surface cold with condensation, across the table. Chad blinks at him in confusion.

“They’re not as good warm,” Yamagi says in explanation, and steals the older glass for himself, taking a swallow. “Rough day?”

“Oh, no, it’s just…”

It takes two more beers and a roundabout conversation of over an hour to get the rest of that statement, which boils down to, “Sometimes I don’t understand people.”

Kudelia’s family situation is more fraught than Chad is comfortable sharing in public, and without Kudelia’s go-ahead, but what Yamagi makes of it is this: Kudelia’s father does not value her beyond her usefulness to him, and Kudelia has cut him out of her life as thoroughly as she can manage. A reporter interviewing her today had prodded at the issue, armed with the latest quotes from father regarding daughter. The words had not been kind.

“I’d understand if they weren’t related. Everyone has their own people to look out for,” Chad says, staring down into his glass. He’s gone very still, Yamagi notes, watching him through the warmth of their third drink. Chad wraps his hands around the base of his glass, pressing his palms against its surface. “But they’re family.”

Yamagi is not quite certain what to make of it, that Chad had gone out, not to unwind nor meet up with anyone in particular, but because Yamagi had said beers after work could be nice, and Chad believed him.

Someone should take better care of him. He catches the tail end of the words as they flicker through his mind, holds onto them for a moment to examine them like a piece of stray thread, then shrugs internally, and lets them go.

“Families fight sometimes,” he offers. He hasn’t thought about his own family in years—they’d fought frequently, and money had been tight. When he eventually just stopped going home at night, not very long after CGS had hired him, no one had ever come to ask when he was coming back. But someone with Chad’s history—well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if Chad has different feelings about it.

“I know, but…”

(Ice flowers, blooming in space. He’d never gotten a chance to meet Akihiro’s brother. He’d never gotten a chance to…)

Yamagi takes another drink himself, looking away from the beer’s amber color.

Chad mirrors him, draining his glass, then setting it towards the back of the table with conscientious slowness. He leans on his elbows, gaze cast aside, his brows still knotted together. It shadows his deep-set eyes, bringing out the gaunt sharpness of his cheeks.

“I don’t get how he can’t realize how lucky he is,” he says at last, and takes a sudden, sharp breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds before looking back up at Yamagi. His mouth twists, abashed. “Sorry. This isn’t—”

“I think that’s the thing about rich families,” Yamagi interrupts, and looks away, out across the taproom. “They have so much they lose sight of the value of it.” He smiles, and glances back over at Chad. “I think, in a way, that makes us richer, you know?”

Chad stares at him, then huffs out a shallow laugh, looking down and rubbing his hand over the back of his head.

“I guess so.”

They arrange their meet-ups after that. Once a month or so, Yamagi picks a place and they go out after work, sometimes staying at the first place, sometimes barhopping until they settle in somewhere. Yukinojo raises an eyebrow at him when he mentions it, and Miss Merribit smiles to herself when she doesn’t think he’s looking.

Yamagi doesn’t stop mentioning it, because it doesn’t mean what they think it does. He is meeting a friend for drinks, and that’s all it is. He’s certain that’s all it is, because he knows he could read it plainly on Chad’s face if Chad thought for a moment that it was becoming anything else.

Chad doesn’t, so it isn’t.

Once a year, on the anniversary of the last battle, Yukinojo sends his crew home early, and the Tekkadan survivors hold a gathering. Miss Merribit calls it a wake. It began life as a solemn affair, secretive, edged with the paranoia of the fugitive, but it’s growing less so every year. The survivors drink, and reminisce, and talk about how things are going, and make plans for moving forward.

(Ride came to the first one, and left disappointed and angry. He fell out of contact soon after. Chad took it hard, though it took more than one drink to get him to show it.)

The fourth year, Yamagi slips out early, and climbs up to the roof of the factory’s main building. He sits, wrapped up tightly in his jacket, watching the stars, nursing a drink and the ache of loss, sharper tonight for the reminder that it is, slowly, beginning to ease.

A few months later, Chad surprises him. Yamagi is sitting in the office going through an order for parts with Miss Merribit when the call comes. He doesn’t leave the room to take it. Why would he?

“I was thinking that we always go to a place you pick out, and that I should really try to find someplace to take you for once. It’s called the White Aster. Kudelia says it’s nice. Is Thursday okay?”

Miss Merribit tries, but can’t hide the shifting of her pale hair. Yamagi ignores her. “That’s fine. Just give me enough time to go home and shower first.”

“I was thinking seven or so?”

Yukinojo’s CCS terminal is one of the cheaper models, the ones that don’t have a video screen built in, but Yamagi doesn’t need to see Chad’s face to read him—he sounds hopeful, a little eager, but there’s no hesitation in his voice, just a note of anxiousness that Yamagi has filed away as Chad’s shyness. They all have parts of their history they’re never going to shake, and that thread of self-doubt is one of Chad’s. There is, still, nothing more to this than a friendly invitation.

That doesn’t mean Yamagi doesn’t have a suspicion or two.

“Seven is fine.”

“Okay. Then it’s a date! I’ll see you Thursday.”

“…Yeah. Thursday.”

The line shuts off, but Yamagi goes on staring at it, hands curled into fists on the desk. He can, very irritatingly, feel the heat in his cheeks. At the other desk, Miss Merribit’s shoulders are shaking. Neither of them speak for a long moment. The sheering sound of a power drill piercing metal from out on the floor snakes through the office, muffled by the walls and the closed door.

“I think Eugene put him up to it,” Yamagi says, finding his voice.

“That sounds about right,” Miss Merribit says, tone pitched a bit high to conceal laughter.

“He just doesn’t know how it sounded.” He unclenches his hands and sits back.

“Probably not,” she agrees, and trails off in a way that indicates more is coming. He opens his mouth to beat her to the punch, but she cuts back in with, “I think you’ll have to make the first move.” When he doesn’t say anything, she amends, “If you want to, of course.”

He looks over at her, scrutinizing her face for any trace of sympathy, and finds only a calm, level smile, blank, a question mark written in the precise angle of her jawline. Yamagi is certain she learned the maneuver at Saisei years before she’d met a single member of Tekkadan.

“Lets get back to the order list,” he mutters, and picks back up his data slate.

“Of course.”

Chad has arrived early—as usual—and waves to him from a table in the back, beaming when Yamagi waves off a host and makes his way over. There’s a menu at the table, an actual paper menu affixed to a dark backboard, and he and Chad spend the first few minutes chuckling about the pretentious descriptions of the house brews.

While Chad excuses himself to walk up to the bar and order, Yamagi takes the time to look around. It is a nice sort of place, cleaner and brighter than the back-alley dives Yukinojo likes—though, Yamagi supposes, the back-alley dives are probably less likely to look askance at the old man’s prosthetics than this place would be.

It feels—special. Special in a way he isn’t certain he likes, actually. If it was definitely a date, and he was being taken out, that would be one thing. And if it definitely wasn’t, and they were just barhopping somewhere a little more expensive than usual, that would also be fine. But the uncertainty gnaws, and saps away his usual sense of comfort with these outings.

He doesn’t think he’s been reading Chad wrong, but…

Yamagi hates it when people expect things of him and don’t bother to consider his feelings first. And he didn’t claw his way through all-encompassing grief four years ago just to sit around and be uncertain over something like this.

When Chad comes back over to the table with the drinks they’d picked out, Yamagi takes his with a nod, and has a sip he barely tastes.

“Chad.” He looks across the table, to where Chad has his glass halfway to his mouth, and is blinking at him over the rim. “I need to clear something up.”

“…Yeah? What’s up?” Chad puts the glass down and pushes it an inch or two away, fixing Yamagi with an attentive, guileless stare.

“Is this a date?”

Chad’s brows knit downward, and he frowns like he doesn’t understand the question. He tips his head a fraction to one side. Belatedly, Yamagi wonders if Chad has any context other than Kudelia’s business lunches for the word.

“It’s—I said so on the phone. Is there something wrong? We can rearrange if…”

If Eugene’s behind this, I’m going to… Yamagi’s brain stalls out, as all of the ideas that first present themselves seem too likely to inconvenience Kudelia. He shakes his head.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, is this—is this supposed to be romantic?” The words land harshly on his ears; he bows his head, lips tightening. Did that sound as bitter as he thinks? He forces himself not to look away from Chad.

The other man’s eyes have gone round, the sight almost comical in his thin face, if Yamagi was more in the mood to find anything funny. Where Yamagi expects a flush, he instead sees pallor, as the color drains out of Chad’s cheeks.

“Wh-what?! No, I…” Chad stutters, shaking his head. “I just thought—I mean it’s like I said on the phone. I thought I should stop making you pick the place every time. I was worried you—I mean, Eugene said…” He breaks off, his arms drawing back across the table and pressing up against his stomach.

Yamagi’s own belly goes cold at the sight of it. He makes himself hold still. Across from him, Chad sits frozen, the line of his shoulders gone rigid. Yamagi goes on staring at him. His conscience is telling him to have some pity, but his pride says, He works around politicians. I shouldn’t have to drag this out of him.

“Eugene—asked why I always made you pick the place,” Chad begins again. He still doesn’t break their gaze, even as his whole body tries to pull back; he stares at Yamagi like some invisible gunman is going to pull a trigger if he looks away. “I’d—I’d never thought about that being a burden before. You were always taking me to such nice places, so—I asked Kudelia if she knew someplace nice I could take you.”

Maybe inconveniencing Kudelia a little is… Yamagi closes his eyes on the thought, and focuses on taking a deeper breath than the little shallow, clipped inhalations he’s been drawing and releasing since this conversation started.

“I see,” he says, his voice low. He opens his eyes to stare at the drink resting on the table between his hands.

You might have to make the first move, Merribit had said. Had she even thought about whether he wants this or not? Had Eugene?

But that’s not a productive line of thought. What either of them—any of them think—isn’t the important point at all. Do I want this. That’s the important point.

And the answer to that is—that he has been watching Chad for months now, wondering if or when he will realize exactly what’s been going on between the two of them, the way everyone else figured it out ages ago. I could have stopped this a long time ago, but I didn’t. Because I—I like being around him. I like that he thinks before he says things. I like that he pays attention. I like that he…

The memory swirls around him, of finding Chad sitting at a bar, ramrod straight, trying to relax without the slightest clue how to do so, because of nothing more than a few words Yamagi had tossed off with barely a thought.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever taken me as seriously as you,” Yamagi says softly, still staring at his glass. “I don’t hate that.”

From the other side of the table, silence. Followed by a hesitant, “O-Okay?”

It worries me a little, Yamagi wants to say, and, You put other people ahead of yourself too much, but he and Chad aren’t there, yet, in a relationship where he can say that kind of thing. They could be, and someone should. But he isn’t going to date someone just to be in a better position to fix their life.

“Do you like going out with me?” He looks up again, finally. Chad is still watching him, some of the color returned to his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Chad says. He ducks his head, then, as if the word that so quickly tumbled out of his mouth might have fallen on the table somewhere, to be found and snatched up before it can be examined too closely. “I mean—you’re so smart, Yamagi.” And now he blushes, the reddish tint in his cheeks very, very visible in the bar’s clear, expensive lighting. “You always know exactly what to say.”

“I didn’t think I talked that much.” Yamagi has a sip of beer, and lets himself taste it this time. Dry, bright, and sharp, exactly the way he likes it.

“Not like that,” Chad says, rubbing the back of his neck. He isn’t smiling, but his mouth has softened from a tense line of panic into a faint, thoughtful frown. “I mean—no matter how bad my day was, you—you always say something that makes it not matter anymore. And then we can just have fun talking to each other.”

“That’s called relaxing,” Yamagi says, voice mild, and smiles against his glass when Chad huffs out a strained laugh. He puts the glass down and leans forward on his elbows. He hasn’t drunk enough to be this courageous, but the fastest way out is through.

(Orga used to say things like that, though he probably never intended it to be applied to romance.)

“Do you want to keep going out?” he asks, meeting Chad’s eyes directly.

Chad stares back at him. “If—if you want to.”

“I do,” Yamagi confirms. “Do you want to go out go out?”

“You mean like…” Chad trails off, and when Yamagi nods, looks down, eyes widening with a returning edge of panic.

“I think…” The old Yamagi, the one who pined over Shino for nearly six years without saying anything, tries to slam the brakes—too fast, this is too fast—and Yamagi hesitates, but only for a moment. Life is too short, and too hard, to not enjoy things when you have the chance. “It could be nice. If you want to. I know I sprang all this on you kind of suddenly.”

“I don’t—I don’t really know how it works,” Chad hedges.

“I don’t either,” Yamagi says, “but I think we could figure it out. Just as long as you go to Kudelia before Eugene for advice.”

Chad laughs again, the sound drawn out of him before he can stop it, and grins, crooked and embarrassed. “That sounds like the smart thing to do.”

Yamagi refrains from comment, and has another sip of his beer. After another long, weighted moment, Chad finally returns his arms to the table. He takes a breath—releases it—and looks up at Yamagi, smile gone shy and flickering. “I—I want to try. I think.”

“That’s probably good enough to start from,” Yamagi says, and returns a light smile. “You should try the beer, then. It really is pretty good.”

Chad nods rapidly, and does just that. As he does so, though, his free hand stretches out on the table, and his knuckles brush Yamagi’s.

It isn’t at all like the first hand Shino had ever offered him, broad and open and unstinting, but Yamagi feels the heat in his cheeks just the same. Without words, he stretches out his fingers just so, curling them with Chad’s on the shining tabletop and letting them rest there, tangled and together and content.

#gundam ibo #mobile suit gundam: iron-blooded orphans #g tekketsu #chad chadan #yamagi gilmerton #my writing #ficcing

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