#like part of me knew hed probably die. i saw it coming. he was set up fron the start to die

[chonkymoth]

ok but the last hour? no. i'm Not Okay

[antlorien]

More Mangai Rantings

Coming off of a whopping 26 note high on my secondary toa teams post, I have more rantings about the whole storyline of the Mangai.

So for starters, WHAT THE FUCK.

Lhikan, my heart and soul, my golden sweet sweet trauma boy, has the most fucked up life out of anyone in the entire lore like his entire life is spent losing the things he cares about and watching troves of people die around him. Like, boy probably had PTSD before he even GOT to Metru Nui from the Frostelus incident, like he had one job and he failed and ran away and everyone died horribly. Thats gonna leave some psychological scars. 

He then proceeds to fight A LITERAL GODDAMNED DRAGON and like, he was probably useless as fuck in that mission. Maybe running support at most, but homeboy is a specialist with fire, and this thing specifically went to a giant lava pit to gain more power. He aint gonna hurt it. They had to call in 4 ice toa, mess up the 6 toa different element comp and just cranked it up to 11. SO hes not having a great start. 

Then, after he kills the dragon, someone starts MURDERING THE CIVILIAN POPULATION LIKE WHAT THE FUCK. No other villain seemed to be as careless about Matoran life. Makuta? Brainwashed and boxed em up. Piraka? Brainwashed and enslaved. Not great, but it wasn’t just straight up elaborate murders! Tuyet, I love her. She is so full of personality and spite and I want to do so much with her character. Like next to Naho, I feel like before this, Lhikan would have trusted her the most. She is smart, skilled, and good at what she does. Easily a very useful friend, and so he had to really trust her and to find out she was doing this? My boy would have been devastated. He then has to watch as the one he doesn’t trust as much has to pick sides, which has gotta be stressful. Also yes, he definitely doesn’t trust Nidihki. Dude comes from the hell peninsula of hell island where life is hell and he gets out of there, dude aint gonna be a socialite. Hes the dark side of what toa are meant to be before he even gets there and golden boy has to just trust him to do what is right in this moment, and obviously, it isnt an easy decision, because we only know he sided with likhan in one universe, all the others might have been more in line with the Toa Empire or something like that.

So Nidhiki makes the right choice, they throw tuyet in jail to IMMEDIATELY have her stolen away to NAUGHTY HELL JAIL, so like, that must have been a conversation, like none of them knew it, and last they saw her, Tuyet was about to become possibly the most powerful toa ever, with the ability to become even more powerful as time went on. So shes just... GONE... and nobody knows shit. Thats gonna be stressful. 

AND THEN A WAR STARTS. Like all of this has gone down, things are going to shit, and shadow boy just decides fuck it im going downtown and invades the island. Thats gonna be a hard time on Lhikan, who now is essentially a war general. He has to run an island that does not seem particularly equipped for dealing with this kinda stuff. At this point also, we might just be getting the start of the Vakhi, so its not clone wars level, they cant just send out all these robocops to deal with the issue, at best they might still have kralhi??? but no idea. Nuparu might even still be working on the vahki when the hunters show up, just trying to crank em out. So Lhikan has now 10 toa vs dozens to hundreds of dark hunters, and thats gonna be a fight you lose. So in order to make this work, he has to arrange for Naho to sneak out, leaving them with even less defenders because also so. 

Water toa right? Easily some of the most powerful, if not the most powerful toa, especially in a small island like this. Just use the water around them to suck people to the ocean floor, and I feel like while Tuyet was more of a tactical and combat specialist, naho was really focused on her elemental powers, kinda like lhikan, with his precise fire powers. So she, possibly the strongest member of the team, just leaves, and has to go find some other army in the meantime. After this goes down and she comes back, its gotta be rough i mean they were holed up in the colliseum, thats gonne be crowded and hard to deal with morale, because that place cant be that secure, its got no roof sometimes. So any hunter that can fly is gona be up there trying to make a move, and those that can dig or climb have their own ways in. So after defending this for who knows how long with 9 toa, she brings in the cavalry and messes them up, but lots of them die. like just straight up in canon on both sides they were dying. By this point, its been a hard war already, righting back from within the colliseum, and trying to get control back of the city. 

Then we get the big slap in the face numero dos. Nidikhi, all ready for his glory, gets too overeager and betrays likhan and is so bad at doing so that he wins the war for the toa. He is so weak compared to what tuyet could have been like he had no sense of anything going on, no military knowledge, he was just edgy. Now he goes off and tries to sell them out and Lhikan already was able to suspect this right off the bat so he cant be too trusting at this point still, so he has probably had these doubts like what if he had been thinking about what might have happened if nidikhi had sided with tuyet this whole time. Like he probably set the bar so low that Nidihki just tripped over it not knowing it was there. So he gets that, and has a whole plan set up. 

THIS IS WHERE IT COULD HAVE GOTTEN GOOD FOR HIM. SO he talks to Hakann, makes the deal to RETURN THE ONE THING HE WAS SUPPOSED TO SAVE FROM HIS FIRST BIG TRAUMA so like huge personal victory for him and hes gotta be doing pretty okay, but the issue is, hes now gotta kick nidikhi out. I dont think hed be okay doing so either, like he had totaally been trying to give the edgelord a chance, and he just throws it back in lhikans face. So he kicks him out, never to be seen again, and the war ends. Nice and easy. 

AND THEN HIS BOSS GETS POSESSED. Like this boy cannot catch a break, he has fought a dragon, an impossible war, lost two teammates to betrayal, maybe more during the war, I have no idea, but they have gotta be on edge after the war at least, because they were likely split up. they were the toa with the most knowledge of the city, so they would likely all be generals, not to mention whoever was assigned to Dume’s guard, because that would also be so much stress and i feel like that was probably nahos thing after she saved the day the first time. so shes been stressed, lhikans been stressed, and then their boss starts sending all his teammates off on suicide missions. That’s just gotta destroy him. He also probably knows at this point that shit is going south, you are telling me a man who has seen this much betrayal would not instantly be on guard about this? I think if anything this might have been the hardest part for me to believe, that after being betrayed by two of his teammates who he was so willing to trust, to have dume start pulling weird shit and him not question it is hard to get. SO I think naho would have been last. Naho would have been his rock, ironically, because shes there to make sure hes still sane after the war, and shes been personally guarding dume this whole time so she trusts him more, and is persuading lhikan right up until its her turn. I have more personal head-canons about some of this but ill save that for later. 

so he is alone again. team all disintegrated, boss possessed, when guess who comes a-knocking, but the horribly mutated spider version of the only person he knows is left from his team. He has this last reminder of what he had show up, and it is so warped and distorted that he has gotta be just messed up so completely by that. So he decides to do what he can, make the stones, and then take on his old teammate, and then the movie happens, he gets captured, has to teach new toa how to do their stuff, which he has no experience in and so he is getting this chance to get to be a influential part of this toa team

AND THEN HE JUST DIES. And this is real hard, because Vakama and the rest were so ready to believe he was the Heart of Metru Nui like, this is someone who you can tell all the matoran respect and know and he just dies right in front of Vakama. This hero of the city, such an integral part that he was considered its heart, is just straight up killed by getting thrown aside by a shadow hand. That is the end of his life, is he gets this chance to try to prove his worth to these toa, and then he gets killed protecting them, even as a turaga. Beyond this, he was already a legacy. The metru, when they became turaga, told all these stories about him, about the adventures he did, like they know what he did for them, and so he does live on, in Jaller, in the metru, and in the minds of all the matoran, who may know now that this legend from their stories was actually real and actually did all this stuff. No other toa team did as much as the Mangai except the mata, and they werent even normal toa, they were specifically designed to be toa like they had to be the best designs, and also got upgraded several times. Lhikan and the Mangai didn’t. they got beat down time and time again and eventually all died protecting their city or turning against it.

I will tell this story in detail, and I think that it is one that needs to be told, because it isn’t one of the main stories that ends all happy, it is a tragedy, but it is the most important and untold tragedy of the entire canon. 

[hearts-upon-our-sleeves]

Astraphobia - Part 2

Series Masterlist

Title: Astraphobia

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Gardener!Reader with Astraphobia

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sexual acts, illegal activities, murder, alcohol, panic attacks.

Summary: Astraphobia, also known as astrapophobia, brontophobia, keraunophobia, or tonitrophobia is an abnormal fear of thunder and lightning, a type of specific phobia. It is a treatable phobia that both humans and animals can develop. -Wikipedia

Chapter Summary: It rains unexpectedly and you have no one else.

A/N: This switches between Tom and You bc i want both sides told? Idk but I like it. Also super bad panic attack so ik it’s in the warning but heres a second warning.

 Your chest was heavy, your lungs filled with fire as it tightened and loosened. Your fingers traced down your chest clutching your top, the coolness of your fingers and the fire of your chest met and left traces along your skin. Tears escaped your eyes as you shook leaving stains along your skin, your arms were around your knees hugging your chest as if there was nothing else in the world to hold. Your ears were pounding from the blood flow, and your eyes were blurred as the tears stung them like bees. Pins and needles traveled through your legs as you gripped them harder.

It wasn’t supposed to be today, you’d read the news it said no rain for the next week. Yet here you were sat in your shop trembling in fear of the monster storm outside. You tried breathing exercises but nothing had been helping, so you stuck your fingers in your ears and you sat and cried trying to get over the strikes you heard outside.

“T-trees are the longest living organisms on earth. Plants can feel, smell, and remember.” You repeated facts to yourself to distract yourself, and the only thing you could recite by heart were plant facts. Your fingers remained planted in your ears as you rocked back and forth praying that this storm would end soon.  

---

“Where the fuck is my money Holmes? Because all I see here is you buying brand new cars yet not being able to pay me back. You know what that’ll get you? A fucking bullet through your sad little brain.” Tom said as he pulled a gun from his desk drawer and aimed it in between  Holmes brows. Tom saw the man flinch and soon he was on his knees begging for his life.

“Get up, you’re pathetic.” Tom moved his gun upwards and soon the man followed. Tom went to pull the trigger when a strike of lightning boomed through the cold office and for a second he thought back two weeks to the thought of you. He thought about you and how you’d see his lifestyle, and lowered the gun. Tom rolled his eyes and pointed to the door.

“I want the money by noon tomorrow or i’ll make sure you go down straight to hell.” Tom boomed as the man thanked him and rushed out of the door. Tom sat down in his chair and put his gun own questioning why he didn’t kill him. Then he thought to you and why when he thought of you he turned soft. He needed to get you out if his head, why should he go after a girl who clearly hated him, but why did look back at the time you patched him up after a fight and smile. How you looked him in the eyes that night and asked if he was ok. How the peroxide burned yet all he could think about was you touching him. Tom looked to the window, you probably loved storms, he thought you’d enjoy not having to water your plants, how you’d stare at the storm and feel relaxed. But that’s just what he thought and he needed to stop, he needed to stop thinking about you, even though you were a ray of light in the darkest storm.

Tom was still lost in thought when Harrison walked in. Harrison fully expected to walk in to see a dead man on the floor not his best mate staring out the window lost in thought.

“Mate what the hell? I thought you’d finish that bloke he was an ass.” Harrison shook Tom out of his trance. The brunette looked over to his mate with a huff and a smirk.

“Wasn’t worth a bullet.” Tom shrugged and sat at his desk pulling up the money he had just been sent.

“Yeah,” Harrison paused with a smile, “I don’t think it’s that.”

“What are you on about this time?” Tom groaned and leaned back into his chair as Harrison sat on the desk.

“You are hung up over that flower shop girl aren’t you?” Harrison laughed as Tom scoffed. Tom rolled his eyes, blew a piece of hair out of his face and smiled with thoughts of you. “How long have you even known her? Have you had an actual conversation other than her telling you to fuck off when you try to buy her shop?”

Tom thought for a moment. You two had known of each other for two years, he still remembers the first time he walked in. You were picking flowers for an old ladies bouquet. Tom still remembers the smile you gave when the lady left and he could’ve sworn that’s when he fell for you. Tom was still in his head when Harrison slapped his shoulder earning a punch to his stomach in return. “Mate? The hell?” Tom called as Harrison laughed and clutched his stomach.

“You need to stop thinking about her, she's making you soft and you can’t be soft mate. Come on get dressed lets go get some drinks and you a pretty looking girl for the night.” Harrison called as he walked out of Tom’s office, and Tom agreed, he did need to stop thinking about you. It was only going to be business, he needed your shop and he was going to get it.

---

The storm died down but that didn’t stop the fear rushing through your body. Your deep breathing turned to panting and all you saw was a white blur, you could taste the metallic taste of blood from you biting you inner cheek, and all you could hear was the pounding and rushing of blood in your ears.

You were on the verge of passing out and you knew you needed help. All of your family was hours away, and no one else had a key to your shop. Holy fuck you were going to have to ask Tom weren’t you? He had picked your lock two weeks ago and knew the lay out so he would understand if you said you were under the desk. The last time you called the hospital for help they charged you way more than you had and you were still paying the bill. You hated Tom, he wouldn’t come or even give a shit, all he wanted was your shop, there was no way he’d give a shit you were on the floor having the worst panic attack of your life.

“Calling him would be better than dying.” Your mind screamed. So with shaking hands you pulled out your phone and clicked on the icon, he’d given you his number in case you wanted to take on the offer of him buying his shop. You clicked on the call button and prayed you wouldn’t die.

---

Tom had been chatting up some blonde at one of the clubs he’d owned. She was pretty but nothing compared to you, Tom thought but ignored it, you’d never be his nor would you ever need him. Tom looked over to Harrison, he was knocking it off with every woman he set eyes on. Tom was about to knock another drink down when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Who ever called him was going to get it, the rule is to never call him when he’s clubbing or you die.  It was an unknown number and he almost felt sorry for the poor schmuck who called him.

“Who the fuck is this?” Tom boomed into his phone but all he heard were soft cries and uneven breathing.

“T-tom-m.” Was all you were able to muster out but he instantly knew who it was and every ounce of worry ran through his body. He exited the club extremely fast, if you were hurt he’d kill any sorry son of a bitch who dared to even look at you.

“Hey love you gotta tell me where you are. I’ll be there ok are you hurt?” Tom walking in any direction he could trying to find you, he noticed your breathing was almost non existent.

“S-s-shop.” You dropped your phone and Tom started yelling in his, you couldn’t hold it up anymore. You started heaving and you knew if you didn’t calm down, you were going to pass out.  

It didn’t take Tom long to run to your shop. He picked the lock as if it was the easiest thing in the world and called out your name running around looking for you until he hit the desk. He looked under it and saw you, you were hugging your knees tears permanently stained your face. Tom crawled under the desk and you instantly gripped onto him.

“Love you gotta tell me what happened.” Tom whispered loud enough for you to hear, but you didn’t need to tell him a thing, because at that instant the storm continued and the loudest strike rolled through and Tom knew when you screamed in horror. So he held you close and whispered sweet things in your ear to keep your mind off the monster outside, and for once you felt at home during a storm, right in Tom’s arms.

[renamusing]

reuenthals replied to your post: reuenthals replied to your post: ...

in the folder re: konhiji like we’re not told how old toshi was when he met kondo but probably a teenager considerin sougo was 6-8 so i always thought toshi’d place kondo in a place similar to tamegoro but misunderstand those feelins as smth else bc he’s just a baby + kondou’s the first to show him real (or any) affection outside tamegoro n not fear or resent him in any way but actually want to help him (he later in life realizes hed just misplaced/misunderstood their 

nature). from that same era, i think his feelins for mitsuba would fit a similar narrative as in bc of circumstances she HAD to be the woman he loved bc all men must love a woman plus she had feelins for him (tho tbh i also dont think hers were any different from the familial love she had for kondou and it was also a matter of circumstance but thats another matter) so it was a done deal but still easy to leave behind for a new life n have as backup/excuse for any other

woman hed meet or more like a shield from havin to open up w/unravel to any feelins of love of a non familial nature for anyone. his take on love is rly naive n pure (contrasted to ofc my baby whos smart n no fool) bc it also serves as shield n hes also said to be unable to relate/open up to women multiple times but is defenseless towards men (n sorachi loves that trope esp w toshi n gin chan in which theyre ‘men that are more attractive to other men than women’) which

i think is why hes so well defenseless towards gin chan durin their duel in the rooftops like for gin chan thats just a ‘crazy cop attacked me again’ moment but for toshi it like shakes the foundations of his whole bein he like lies there all wistful like wtf…..im gay? no… w a blossomin crush that only gets worse the more he interacts w gin chan (cant blame him tho gin chan is an angel) but like the way hes constructed specifically as an archetype hes too set in

performin masculinity (kyuchan says this but he also says this abt himself also multiple times) n sorachi is aware to an extent (plus hes drawin from men who were practicin mlm themselves) what this trope entails wrt sexuality n its expressions like for toshi its comfortable not to think abt love or any of that bc he has a goal n the excuse of a dead woman but its impossible to read him as anythin but not straight no matter the degree to which he is aware of it (which

tbh i think its a lot more than what ppl in fandom give him credit for) i have more detailed backed up analysis of this somewhere but i cant find them but basically at the end of the day i think toshi meetin kondo n at least havin some mixed up feelins abt what he feels towards him that hes able to resolve as bein brotherly later on in life set the path for him realizin he can love other men not in a brotherly way n in the way he (as a man) is supposed to love women

wow long but yes like toshi’s archetype in other manga/literature is easily read n can be coded as mlm/gay n is often the case but his issues run too deep for him to even consider that part seriously (at least tbh until 551 maybe baragaki but i dont think that early) so he has to suffer for it he deserves the worst the only reason gh is okay is bc he provides economically for gin chan n would be willin to pay any outstandin debts as shown in the soul switch arc. the end

i feel like this was just a sneak peek into that folder, but I loved it 200%! it’s super hard for me to reply without going into my own headcanons about gh and how they relate to one another, cause the way toshi relates to gin is so different from kondo in my perspective; in fact, it’s why i can’t get romantic konhiji at all, though i admit you make a fair point when u address the transition of toshi’s “most important person” from tamegoro to kondo (at that young age mixed feelings would be acceptable) plus, i always saw kondo as the character that ‘saved’ toshi, while gin was the one that ‘healed’ him. ofc both relationships go way beyond these dynamics, but without any actual canon romantic proof it’s difficult to postulate from toshi’s limited pov. 

so, while the shinsengumi became his substitute family and kondo tamegoro’s substitute (the family core), it’s a given that toshi perceives this love as unconditional, would-die-for etc. however, it would be interesting to explore his feelings for kondo back then in relation to mitsuba; like in an effort to answer the love of a woman (as you so brilliantly put, that in those circumstances toshi HAD to love a woman) he tried to shift his romantic feelings/attraction to kondo’s masculine figure to her ? (IM ONLY  REALIZING NOW THAT THIS WAS PROBABLY WHAT YOU MEANT BEFORE? IM SORRY) tho i don’t agree that mitsuba’s love for him was familial cause ponytail toshi, mack, like pls, she had to be blind ???

then we come to ginchan, whose whole relationship with toshi is based, imo, in the fact that they not only see a part of themselves in each other (the guilty, self-hating, rebel part) but that in seeing it they understand themselves better and are able to open up, share their experiences and encourage one another; not to mention protect what’s dear to them. aka they love each other. there is literally no other explanation for ginchan waiting in the rain for toshi so they could go out for a meal? i mean, sakata gintoki sat in the rain, under his umbrella, looking all complacent & shit. ALRIGHT. 

btw i bolded some of your bits cause i rly relate to them in the way i see toshi, especially the ones about him putting up a shield. toshi has always had problems dealing with his feelings, even before we knew of his past with his brother (which for continuity’s sake was probably what triggered him to bottle  everything up), he had always been written/regarded as a cold, level-headed character who doesn’t let emotions get the best of him. his rank in the shinsengumi further emphasizing this (and his otaku persona as well). so, without disregarding ginchan’s merits, i think that kondo’s influence (and even mitsuba’s to some extent) may have contributed to lowering toshi’s shield enough that he was able to give himself a chance to connect with someone outside his comfort zone/past. the fact that that person happened to be a man only makes more sense given his background and the hints that tell us he was never able to relate to women or feel like he could make them happy. it’s Tough on my heart to say that ginchan is basically ideal because, even though he is the mc, it’s like he was made to play that role in toshi’s life. he doesn’t bring all the answers but rather more questions cause there’s no way toshi can be confused now because his attraction to ginchan cant be excused with the role of ‘brother’ or ‘fated woman he was supposed to love’, gh bond is their own, their closeness in canon SHOULD raise suspicion cause it sure doesn’t seem straight.

well, i digressed WAY more than i should, but yeah that’s it, kudos on that folder. 

[adambstingus]

Every Halloween, I Have A Story I Like To Tell

I liked Ben, I really did. I mean, he was a nice guy. We had some fun times together in college, messing around the dorm, going to parties, all the dumb shit that college guys do. He was cool and all, but he was a little pretentious. Well, I guess the word he used was artistic. He thought he was real smart, spent a lot of time trying to prove it to everyone. He had his own blog developed to film critiques not the big ones, though. Just little indie productions because nothing else was worth his time. When he got like that, he could be pretty insufferable.

Perhaps the most annoying thing that he did was performance art.

Now, I dont wanna be the guy who says that all performance art is dumb. But yeah, no, all performance art is dumb. Oh, look, youre on display painting a picture of Jesus from your own urine, how original and edgy! Maybe Im a little jaded, but it always seemed so contrived to me. Unfortunately, Ben really loved it. He thought there was something beautiful in art that was physically living and he devoted an embarrassing amount of time to it.

Anyway, I hung out with Ben a few times after college, but we mostly just met up to do some heavy drinking and maybe hit a strip club or two. He considered THAT performance art as well, which was just fine with me, it gave me an excuse to waste some ones. Since we didnt hang out very often, I had a bad feeling when he contacted me about a month before last Halloween.

He called me up at about seven in the morning on a Saturday, which is too early to even consider waking up, in my opinion. I answered in a daze and he started running his mouth like crazy, as though afraid that, if he didnt get it all out at once, he never would.

Mike, hey, Mikey, listen, buddy, I need your help, okay? Okay, okay, Ive got this idea for a performance and, well, its going to be , you know? So good! Its going down on Halloween. Can you come help? Look, Ill even pay you, man. Fifty dollars. So how bout it?

Now, Ive never cared much about Halloween one way or the other, and Im a pretty easy guy. Fifty dollars to probably just sit there and run a fog machine or some bullshit? For the right price, I could even pretend that I wanted to be there. Besides, what else are friends for?

A few days later, he gave me the details. To be honest, I was a little shocked when he sent the email. I know that performance art is intended to be edgy and can sometimes get a little dangerous, but this seemed downright negligent.

Mike:

Thanks for agreeing to do this for me! Ive talked to a few other people, but they werent really comfortable with it, for reasons youll probably be able to figure out. Of course, I understand if you want to back out, but I think you are probably the most reliable person I know. Its really not that big of a deal, Im sure youll agree.

As Im sure youve noticed, vampires have become very prominent in the media as of late. I say vampires because they are beginning to deviate so wildly from the traditional myths that they resemble forest fairies more than anything else. Altruistic? Sparkly? Whiny? Give me a break. We need more Dracula! We need more Carmilla! We need more death, destruction, and blood!

My performance will center on the theme of rebirthing the vampire. For the vampire to be reborn, he must first be buried. To turn peoples attentions back to the myths of old, I will be doing just that: I will be burying the vampire.

I have a group of viewers signed up already to participate in the performance, so you dont need to worry about that. Im going to plant a series of vampire-themed clues around town for them to follow. The clues should be pretty simple, and it will probably take no more than an hour to an hour-and-a-half for them to find me.

Here comes the somewhat controversial part. Essentially, for this performance to have any semblance of meaning, I need to be buried alive. Dont worry, its perfectly safe: I have a buddy from back home who is building me a coffin with a hole in the top. Ill be fixing it with a pipe that will stick an inch or two above the ground. That way, I wont run out of air. Ill also have a few necessities in the coffin in case something happens: food, water, and a flashlight.

Once they arrive at my grave which will be completely vampirized they will be provided with an array of shovels and will bring me back to life, a reincarnation of the true mythological history of vampires.

Here is where you come in. I need you to bury me. In addition, I need you to be my safety net: if they cant find me, if something goes wrong, if I become sick, I need you to be the one to get me out or call the police, if necessary. Ill also need you to decorate my grave, make it really creepy dont worry, Ill send you some blueprints.

I know this is a little stressful and it may take some time for you to decide, but, rest assured, this is a completely safe project. Theres no danger of suffocation and the coffin is sturdy, so its very unlikely that it will collapse. I really just need you there for support and the actual hard work of burying me.

What do you say? Id even be willing to up your pay to a hundred dollars, if thats what you need.

Let me know!

RIP,

Ben

I stared at my screen for a few minutes, completely dumbfounded.

Once I cut through all the bullshit about art and vampires and rebirth, what it came down to was death.

This guy actually wanted me to almost kill him.

I mean, sure, it probably WAS safe. But my mind went over the plan slowly. What if I couldnt get him out in time? One shovel and a pit of dirt wouldnt be a fast job. Furthermore, what if something happened to me?

Before making a decision, I sent him another email asking if he was really sure he was up for this. Of course he knew, he said. And then he said something that would always stick with me.

Art must be a little dangerous, my friend, for it to be real.

A month later, I found myself standing at the foot of a grave. It was six feet deep and perfectly rectangular. Sitting at the bottom was a tapered coffin covered with black lacquer, a white skull painted on the top. In the eye of the skull was a hole just big enough for the PVC pipe. Stenciled underneath was a line from Dracula: Denn die Todten reiten schnell.

I stood there like an idiot, waiting for Ben to show up.

In the end, Id decided to go along with his stupid gig. Ben was a stubborn bastard, and if I didnt help him, someone else would. At least, thats the justification I gave myself. But the real reason was that, deep inside my heart, his words were still echoing.

Id ended up doing a little more work than I had intended. For one, I had to place his stupid clues around the city. It wasnt hard work, but it took some time to get them all in the proper places. Luckily for Ben, they were pretty obvious clues. There was no need to worry that his participants would be unable to find him.

Ben had set up the grave and the coffin a few days prior to Halloween. It was out in the woods just on the outskirts of town, no chance of it being disturbed. Id tried to talk him out of burying it the whole six feet down.

If something happens and I need to get you out fast, what will I do? Cant you put it closer to the surface?

Ben had just shaken his head in exasperation. You just dont get it, do you? It has to be done right. Remember what I told you.

So I shrugged and let him mess around with whatever dumbassery would get him off.

I was just beginning to wonder if I should have brought more beer this promised to be a long night when Ben showed up.

I had to restrain my laughter when I saw his getup. A cheap Dracula costume from Wal-mart had never looked so pathetic, especially when topped off with those cheap plastic fangs. Hed greased his hair back and painted on a widows peak.

I couldnt resist. Wow, seriously, dude?

He gave me a stern look. Its a comment on the commercialization of vampires and horror as we know it today. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a walkie talkie. Here, take one. The range isnt very far, but my cell phone wont work that far underground. Youll have to stay nearby. Let me know if youre going out of range.

I shrugged and took it. Okay, but you brought your cell just in case, right?

Nah, what good will it do if it doesnt work?

This guys batshit insane, I thought. But he handed me the hundred dollars and, suddenly, it didnt seem to matter anymore.

I helped him into the coffin and shut the lid. He seemed pretty calm if it were me, I knew Id be having a panic attack. I fit the PVC pipe into the hole. It slid in perfectly snug. I climbed out of the coffin and grabbed my shovel, taking one last look at the shiny black peeking out from the dirt.

With a resigned shrug, I started to shovel in the dirt. Okay, well, he asked for this, I thought.

It took almost a full hour to get all the dirt piled in. The PVC pipe was just barely visible over the grave. I piled the earth around it to hide it as well as I could. Then, I set up the rest of the grave: a hideously gothic headstone made of Styrofoam, and cheap Wal-mart flowers. Once it was finally finished, I sat back against a tree and waited.

There was an awful lot of waiting to be done.

Three hours later, his participants still hadnt come.

Hed buzzed in on the walkie talkie a few times, asking if theyd shown up. I continually answered in the negative, wondering how long hed be willing to keep up this charade. He must be getting worried, I thought, staring at my watch. It was already 10 pm and not a soul to be seen.

Hey, Mike? Something must have happened, I dont think theyre coming. Can you get me out of here? Bens voice crackled and faded in and out of the static fuzz. I took another swig of my beer and heaved a sigh.

Of course they werent coming. They were frantically searching for the last clue. My hand crept into my pocket as I felt it folded there, the creases poking at the soft flesh of my palm.

Mike? Are you there? Did you go out of range?

I turned the walkie talkie off. I didnt need it anymore, anyway. Carefully, I picked up a handful of disturbed earth from the top of the makeshift grave. I poured it down the pipe and listened.

I heard the muffled exclamation, the series of expletives. I thought I could hear a thumping sound he must be hitting the top of the coffin. I smiled a little to myself as I poured some more dirt in through the pipe.

Bens struggles got louder and I felt a certain heat rising up in me. Oh, I knew it could be good, but I didnt know it could be good. This was incredible. This was perfect. This was .

Eventually, I grew bored of shoving the earth down into the coffin. I could hear Bens screaming and sobbing reverberating up the pipe. I yanked a handkerchief out of my back pocket and stuffed it inside. I made sure to plug it up good and tight.

It would only be a matter of time, now. Assuming he could regulate his breathing, he could possibly have a few hours. But I knew he was panicking. And that would simply serve to shorten his time.

The pounding grew weaker as I finished my beer. Once I was certain there was no saving him, I went to finish my work.

Ben was right everything really did go off without a hitch. I dont know what I was so worried about.

Id gone to find his lost sheep, the wayward participants who were scrambling in frustration for the last clue. I scolded them for making us wait so long, acted the part of the reluctant friend indulging his lunatic companion. I took them out to the grave. It was now past midnight.

They sat hushed as I gave the stupid speech that Ben had prepared for me. Everything seemed normal Id made sure to stow the rag before anyone could see it.

Friends, foes, and everyone in between. Tonight we gather to resurrect the ancient horror that has plagued mankind for centuries. Its tale, once a gruesome epic of blood and seduction, has become nothing more than commercialized fodder as society has aged. Now, the time has come for the phoenix to burn and rise again. So, too, shall the blood-soaked visage of the vampire! My voice resonated throughout the woods, and the morons in attendance clapped as they all reached for their shovels.

We dug him up in about half an hour. It was much faster work with his host of suckers. It was good that we reached the coffin quickly, because I could barely contain my excitement.

Two of the men opened the coffin and screamed. The women leaned in over the grave to peek as well, full of expectancy. There was something dreadful about the scene, to be sure.

Bens face had gone gray, sprayed over with a few specs of dirt. His hands were bloody, his fingernails pried off. Deep scratches decorated the top of the lid. The men who had opened his tomb dragged him out in a panic, unsure if this was part of the performance or not. A few moments of silent listening at his chest produced no heartbeat. The proclamation was definitive: he was dead.

They screamed. They called the police. They alternatively looked at his body and shielded themselves from its horror, enraptured yet struggling.

They ignored me.

But that was fine. It was fine because they were admiring my work, the work of the artist. Finally, I had been given this opportunity to prove my worth. Finally, I had found my sacrificial lamb. And it had been a rousing success. The heat raging in my body affirmed that much. I didnt even care if I was caught, so long as I could have this moment to hold for the rest of my life.

Ben was right. I should have known a man of principle never lies. And I owe him a debt of gratitude, for realizing the artist within me.

Art must be a little dangerous for it to be real.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/every-halloween-i-have-a-story-i-like-to-tell/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/172357360662

[samanthasroberts]

Every Halloween, I Have A Story I Like To Tell

I liked Ben, I really did. I mean, he was a nice guy. We had some fun times together in college, messing around the dorm, going to parties, all the dumb shit that college guys do. He was cool and all, but he was a little pretentious. Well, I guess the word he used was artistic. He thought he was real smart, spent a lot of time trying to prove it to everyone. He had his own blog developed to film critiques not the big ones, though. Just little indie productions because nothing else was worth his time. When he got like that, he could be pretty insufferable.

Perhaps the most annoying thing that he did was performance art.

Now, I dont wanna be the guy who says that all performance art is dumb. But yeah, no, all performance art is dumb. Oh, look, youre on display painting a picture of Jesus from your own urine, how original and edgy! Maybe Im a little jaded, but it always seemed so contrived to me. Unfortunately, Ben really loved it. He thought there was something beautiful in art that was physically living and he devoted an embarrassing amount of time to it.

Anyway, I hung out with Ben a few times after college, but we mostly just met up to do some heavy drinking and maybe hit a strip club or two. He considered THAT performance art as well, which was just fine with me, it gave me an excuse to waste some ones. Since we didnt hang out very often, I had a bad feeling when he contacted me about a month before last Halloween.

He called me up at about seven in the morning on a Saturday, which is too early to even consider waking up, in my opinion. I answered in a daze and he started running his mouth like crazy, as though afraid that, if he didnt get it all out at once, he never would.

Mike, hey, Mikey, listen, buddy, I need your help, okay? Okay, okay, Ive got this idea for a performance and, well, its going to be , you know? So good! Its going down on Halloween. Can you come help? Look, Ill even pay you, man. Fifty dollars. So how bout it?

Now, Ive never cared much about Halloween one way or the other, and Im a pretty easy guy. Fifty dollars to probably just sit there and run a fog machine or some bullshit? For the right price, I could even pretend that I wanted to be there. Besides, what else are friends for?

A few days later, he gave me the details. To be honest, I was a little shocked when he sent the email. I know that performance art is intended to be edgy and can sometimes get a little dangerous, but this seemed downright negligent.

Mike:

Thanks for agreeing to do this for me! Ive talked to a few other people, but they werent really comfortable with it, for reasons youll probably be able to figure out. Of course, I understand if you want to back out, but I think you are probably the most reliable person I know. Its really not that big of a deal, Im sure youll agree.

As Im sure youve noticed, vampires have become very prominent in the media as of late. I say vampires because they are beginning to deviate so wildly from the traditional myths that they resemble forest fairies more than anything else. Altruistic? Sparkly? Whiny? Give me a break. We need more Dracula! We need more Carmilla! We need more death, destruction, and blood!

My performance will center on the theme of rebirthing the vampire. For the vampire to be reborn, he must first be buried. To turn peoples attentions back to the myths of old, I will be doing just that: I will be burying the vampire.

I have a group of viewers signed up already to participate in the performance, so you dont need to worry about that. Im going to plant a series of vampire-themed clues around town for them to follow. The clues should be pretty simple, and it will probably take no more than an hour to an hour-and-a-half for them to find me.

Here comes the somewhat controversial part. Essentially, for this performance to have any semblance of meaning, I need to be buried alive. Dont worry, its perfectly safe: I have a buddy from back home who is building me a coffin with a hole in the top. Ill be fixing it with a pipe that will stick an inch or two above the ground. That way, I wont run out of air. Ill also have a few necessities in the coffin in case something happens: food, water, and a flashlight.

Once they arrive at my grave which will be completely vampirized they will be provided with an array of shovels and will bring me back to life, a reincarnation of the true mythological history of vampires.

Here is where you come in. I need you to bury me. In addition, I need you to be my safety net: if they cant find me, if something goes wrong, if I become sick, I need you to be the one to get me out or call the police, if necessary. Ill also need you to decorate my grave, make it really creepy dont worry, Ill send you some blueprints.

I know this is a little stressful and it may take some time for you to decide, but, rest assured, this is a completely safe project. Theres no danger of suffocation and the coffin is sturdy, so its very unlikely that it will collapse. I really just need you there for support and the actual hard work of burying me.

What do you say? Id even be willing to up your pay to a hundred dollars, if thats what you need.

Let me know!

RIP,

Ben

I stared at my screen for a few minutes, completely dumbfounded.

Once I cut through all the bullshit about art and vampires and rebirth, what it came down to was death.

This guy actually wanted me to almost kill him.

I mean, sure, it probably WAS safe. But my mind went over the plan slowly. What if I couldnt get him out in time? One shovel and a pit of dirt wouldnt be a fast job. Furthermore, what if something happened to me?

Before making a decision, I sent him another email asking if he was really sure he was up for this. Of course he knew, he said. And then he said something that would always stick with me.

Art must be a little dangerous, my friend, for it to be real.

A month later, I found myself standing at the foot of a grave. It was six feet deep and perfectly rectangular. Sitting at the bottom was a tapered coffin covered with black lacquer, a white skull painted on the top. In the eye of the skull was a hole just big enough for the PVC pipe. Stenciled underneath was a line from Dracula: Denn die Todten reiten schnell.

I stood there like an idiot, waiting for Ben to show up.

In the end, Id decided to go along with his stupid gig. Ben was a stubborn bastard, and if I didnt help him, someone else would. At least, thats the justification I gave myself. But the real reason was that, deep inside my heart, his words were still echoing.

Id ended up doing a little more work than I had intended. For one, I had to place his stupid clues around the city. It wasnt hard work, but it took some time to get them all in the proper places. Luckily for Ben, they were pretty obvious clues. There was no need to worry that his participants would be unable to find him.

Ben had set up the grave and the coffin a few days prior to Halloween. It was out in the woods just on the outskirts of town, no chance of it being disturbed. Id tried to talk him out of burying it the whole six feet down.

If something happens and I need to get you out fast, what will I do? Cant you put it closer to the surface?

Ben had just shaken his head in exasperation. You just dont get it, do you? It has to be done right. Remember what I told you.

So I shrugged and let him mess around with whatever dumbassery would get him off.

I was just beginning to wonder if I should have brought more beer this promised to be a long night when Ben showed up.

I had to restrain my laughter when I saw his getup. A cheap Dracula costume from Wal-mart had never looked so pathetic, especially when topped off with those cheap plastic fangs. Hed greased his hair back and painted on a widows peak.

I couldnt resist. Wow, seriously, dude?

He gave me a stern look. Its a comment on the commercialization of vampires and horror as we know it today. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a walkie talkie. Here, take one. The range isnt very far, but my cell phone wont work that far underground. Youll have to stay nearby. Let me know if youre going out of range.

I shrugged and took it. Okay, but you brought your cell just in case, right?

Nah, what good will it do if it doesnt work?

This guys batshit insane, I thought. But he handed me the hundred dollars and, suddenly, it didnt seem to matter anymore.

I helped him into the coffin and shut the lid. He seemed pretty calm if it were me, I knew Id be having a panic attack. I fit the PVC pipe into the hole. It slid in perfectly snug. I climbed out of the coffin and grabbed my shovel, taking one last look at the shiny black peeking out from the dirt.

With a resigned shrug, I started to shovel in the dirt. Okay, well, he asked for this, I thought.

It took almost a full hour to get all the dirt piled in. The PVC pipe was just barely visible over the grave. I piled the earth around it to hide it as well as I could. Then, I set up the rest of the grave: a hideously gothic headstone made of Styrofoam, and cheap Wal-mart flowers. Once it was finally finished, I sat back against a tree and waited.

There was an awful lot of waiting to be done.

Three hours later, his participants still hadnt come.

Hed buzzed in on the walkie talkie a few times, asking if theyd shown up. I continually answered in the negative, wondering how long hed be willing to keep up this charade. He must be getting worried, I thought, staring at my watch. It was already 10 pm and not a soul to be seen.

Hey, Mike? Something must have happened, I dont think theyre coming. Can you get me out of here? Bens voice crackled and faded in and out of the static fuzz. I took another swig of my beer and heaved a sigh.

Of course they werent coming. They were frantically searching for the last clue. My hand crept into my pocket as I felt it folded there, the creases poking at the soft flesh of my palm.

Mike? Are you there? Did you go out of range?

I turned the walkie talkie off. I didnt need it anymore, anyway. Carefully, I picked up a handful of disturbed earth from the top of the makeshift grave. I poured it down the pipe and listened.

I heard the muffled exclamation, the series of expletives. I thought I could hear a thumping sound he must be hitting the top of the coffin. I smiled a little to myself as I poured some more dirt in through the pipe.

Bens struggles got louder and I felt a certain heat rising up in me. Oh, I knew it could be good, but I didnt know it could be good. This was incredible. This was perfect. This was .

Eventually, I grew bored of shoving the earth down into the coffin. I could hear Bens screaming and sobbing reverberating up the pipe. I yanked a handkerchief out of my back pocket and stuffed it inside. I made sure to plug it up good and tight.

It would only be a matter of time, now. Assuming he could regulate his breathing, he could possibly have a few hours. But I knew he was panicking. And that would simply serve to shorten his time.

The pounding grew weaker as I finished my beer. Once I was certain there was no saving him, I went to finish my work.

Ben was right everything really did go off without a hitch. I dont know what I was so worried about.

Id gone to find his lost sheep, the wayward participants who were scrambling in frustration for the last clue. I scolded them for making us wait so long, acted the part of the reluctant friend indulging his lunatic companion. I took them out to the grave. It was now past midnight.

They sat hushed as I gave the stupid speech that Ben had prepared for me. Everything seemed normal Id made sure to stow the rag before anyone could see it.

Friends, foes, and everyone in between. Tonight we gather to resurrect the ancient horror that has plagued mankind for centuries. Its tale, once a gruesome epic of blood and seduction, has become nothing more than commercialized fodder as society has aged. Now, the time has come for the phoenix to burn and rise again. So, too, shall the blood-soaked visage of the vampire! My voice resonated throughout the woods, and the morons in attendance clapped as they all reached for their shovels.

We dug him up in about half an hour. It was much faster work with his host of suckers. It was good that we reached the coffin quickly, because I could barely contain my excitement.

Two of the men opened the coffin and screamed. The women leaned in over the grave to peek as well, full of expectancy. There was something dreadful about the scene, to be sure.

Bens face had gone gray, sprayed over with a few specs of dirt. His hands were bloody, his fingernails pried off. Deep scratches decorated the top of the lid. The men who had opened his tomb dragged him out in a panic, unsure if this was part of the performance or not. A few moments of silent listening at his chest produced no heartbeat. The proclamation was definitive: he was dead.

They screamed. They called the police. They alternatively looked at his body and shielded themselves from its horror, enraptured yet struggling.

They ignored me.

But that was fine. It was fine because they were admiring my work, the work of the artist. Finally, I had been given this opportunity to prove my worth. Finally, I had found my sacrificial lamb. And it had been a rousing success. The heat raging in my body affirmed that much. I didnt even care if I was caught, so long as I could have this moment to hold for the rest of my life.

Ben was right. I should have known a man of principle never lies. And I owe him a debt of gratitude, for realizing the artist within me.

Art must be a little dangerous for it to be real.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/every-halloween-i-have-a-story-i-like-to-tell/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/03/28/every-halloween-i-have-a-story-i-like-to-tell/