#like there was a note I wanted to find in SoT and I knew exactly where it was accross the 2page spread

[morgue-xiiv]

Every so often I forget why house of leaves is called house of leasves when there's "not really any leaves in it" and the other half of my brain has to reexplain it to me but increasingly impatiently so it just ends up being "buddy the whole thing is leaves. It's an all leaves book. This is why you can't get it as an ePub."

[hachichimitsu2]

A Comprehensive List of Stan and Kyle Moments (I UPD8 AS I GO)

A Comprehensive List of Stan and Kyle Moments (I UPD8 AS I GO)

Hello. Yes, you heard me. Here are all the scenes that legit scream out “STYLE” in South Park, whether these scenes are too far of a reach or not. I mostly compiled this out of my very own convenience, and hopefully this’ll help you a whole lot too. This is extremely text heavy, so I’ll put this under “Read More”. I haven’t played any of the games, so I won’t be including it here at this time, so if you guys know any good moments from the games, please let me know and I’ll add it to the list.

Cherokee Hair Tampons:

- The entire goshdarn episode.

- Stan being concerned and distraught over a dying Kyle breaks my heart. He was even bawling next to Kenny.

- Stan willing to donate his kidney to Kyle, even if it’d hurt a lot.

- Stan knowing that Kyle ate a bean and bacon soup half an hour ago shows that he’s been by Kyle’s side for quite some time now.

- Stan holding onto Kyle while they were at Cartman’s house.

- “Dude, you’re my best friend. I don’t want you to die before I do...”

Super Best Friends:

- Yeah, um, this episode...is gay.

- Stan and Kyle entering the episode with ice cream cones while Butters and Cartman wondering where they got them from. It’s assumed Stan and Kyle were hanging out with each other off-screen.

- I think Kyle being convinced that he’s not “really happy” through brainwashing is parallel to Stan being convinced that he’s “depressed” by the Church of Scientology.

- Stan trying to help Kyle escape with him, not even mentioning this plan to Kenny, Cartman or even Butters.

- Stan and Kyle looking at each other with longing looks while dramatic music plays in the background. Ah yes. I am...not even joking...this legit happened.

- How to Find Your Boyfriend 101: “OH MY GOD! THEY KILLED KENNY!!” “Y-you bastards...”

- Stan pleading Kyle not to kill himself and to hold his breath while being there for him.

- The ending where they call each other Super Best Friends and both proceed to beat up Cartman when he teased that they should make out.

Cartmanland:

- Stan comforting a distraught Kyle.

- @belovedhomosexuals mentioned that canonically, Stan helps Kyle with his hemorrhoid cream, and IM-

- Stan doing everything he can to get back at Cartman for Kyle’s sake.

- Stan demanding the doctor to wheel Kyle out to see Cartman in misery.

Asspen:

- “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HEATHER!!” >:(

- Kyle not wanting Stan to do the K-13. He doesn’t want him to die.

- Kyle holds a polaroid photo of the both of them. How cute. Does he bring it with him wherever he goes?

The Biggest Douche In The Universe:

- Stan not wanting to go back to Colorado without Kyle and does all he can to convince him that John Edward is a fraud.

Follow That Egg:

- They are dads.

- They take care of their egg really well.

- “As a matter of fact, it is the nicest hat I’ve ever known”

- They’re the reasons gays could get married.

- Stan getting jealous of Kyle being paired up with Wendy. It does seem like a reach I have to admit, but if you’re a Stylendy fan, then this one’s for you.

Return of Chef

- The iconic beginning “flashback” where they both look at the sunset together.

Smug Alert:

- Stan and Kyle meeting in the parking lot in the beginning when Kyle was helping his dad give fake tickets.

- Kyle being moved away from South Park has Stan write a song to get Kyle and his family to come back.

- The cute hug in the end.

Fantastic Easter Special

- Stan, out of breath, asks Kyle for help in protecting Snowball

- Kyle helping him out anyways even though he was busy with fingerprinting.

- Cinematic parallels of Kyle killing Jesus and Stan killing that alien in Pinewood Derby.

Imaginationland Trilogy

- Kyle calling Stan in the morning regarding the “dream.”

- Stan and Kyle, unsure of the notes, both trying to recall the Imagination song. It was cute.

- Stan being distraught when ManBearPig got a hold on Kyle. (I swear, I’ve used the word “distraught” for over 1948388 times now)

- Kyle communicating through Stan telepathically with his Imagination.

Guiltar Queer O

- The whole episode.

- “I know...I need you.”

- The whole episode was literally as if they went through a break up.

- They’re both in sync when playing, right up to their tongues up.

- “Oh, so the gallant knight now comes to rescue me from the bowels of mediocrity! Oh, thank you, your royal lordship!” (Foreshadowing for SOT?)

- Stan thinking of Kyle as he’s “driving”.

The List:

- Stan doing all he can to prove that Kyle is a handsome mf. Another episode that screams Stylendy rights.

You Got F’d in the A:

- Kyle being so happy to see Stan dancing back to the Orange County kids.

- It’s canon that Stan can dance well while Kyle doesn’t have rhythm whatsoever. Wouldn’t it be a cute idea for Stan to teach Kyle how to dance?

You Have 0 Friends

- Kyle pleading Stan to water his crops.

- A short detail but if you noticed when Kyle announced that they made an FB account for Stan, he only added himself as Stan’s friend. This means that Kyle legit “friended” himself in Stan’s profile and didn’t bother to add Kenny or Cartman to Stan’s friend list.

- “Yes. WE’RE REALLY GREAT FRIENDS STAN!!” :D

You’re Getting Old:

- Oof. Yeah....

- Stan obviously loves Kyle a whole lot, but him seeing Kyle slowly turn into a turd probably did break his heart little by little. And when I mean by probably, I mean massively.

- Kyle shouldn’t exactly be demonized for not being able to handle Stan’s cynicism. Because I think it’s ok to admit you can’t handle such emotional drainage even if coming from your SBF, but do mind that him leaving Stan was most likely NOT easy for him. It’s kinda sad that they’ve slowly drifted away since then. BUT NO I REFUSE TO LET THAT HAPPEN ;-;

Assburgers:

- “Fuck you Kyle! You’re a piece of shit...Kyle, I love you. You’re a piece if shit though, fuck you...! I love you...”

- Stan immediately going back to Kyle when he’s feeling “better”

- That McDonalds Exec. literally narrating Stan and Kyle’s current rocky relationship and not believing every second of if.

A Nightmare on Facetime:

- “WILL SOMEONE GET ME A CHARGER OVER HERE!!’

- Kyle bringing and guiding Stan through the iPad.

Ginger Cow:

- Jokes aside, when Stan was asking Kyle about Cartman’s farts, he was really sweet and understanding to him. He genuinely wants to understand why Kyle likes Cartman’s farts so much and knew something was up by the way Kyle was hiding things.

- I also like how he was not afraid to call Kyle a dick. I think a good level of transparency is needed in a healthy relationship. That’s just how they roll.

- Stan helping Kyle cover up in the end....though it did backfire.

Black Friday Trilogy:

- “DID KYLE KNOW ABOUT THIS?!” “Kyle thought of it.” ;-;

- Stan being grounded and Kyle apologizing at the other side of the door was peak gay angst level.

- “That’s just how Xbox people are...” D:

- Ok now for something sweet. In the deleted scene, Stan was showing Kyle how the playstation controller works and...wow.......what cute babies.

Prehistoric Ice Man:

- “Oh my god! They killed Kenny!!” *looks at Kyle* “What? I’m not talking to you anymore.”

- Them fighting and arguing was so adorable. Their voices were so squeaky and cute in this episode.

- “First one to die loses.” SOGKEKGKRI WHAT MORONS

- Stan and Kyle kind of awkwardly trying to start the fight reminds me of Tweek vs Craig.

Mexican Joker:

- Stan angrily sending Cartman to the detention center after hearing about him sending Kyle there.

Band in China:

- “kyyyyyyYYYYYLEEEE :D DUDE YOU’RE BACK!!”

- Stan making a death metal band because a.) He hates living in the farm and b.) He misses Kyle so hard.

Britney’s New Look:

- Another Stan and Kyle episode where they both realized how so far in the wrong they’re in, and they desperately want to fix it.

- Stan and Kyle giving up in the end and joining in the chant.

The Death of Eric Cartman:

- Stan offering Kyle money so he could buy milk for lunch.

Two Guys Naked In A Hot Tub:

- “You can't just hang out with your buddy Kyle all the time. People will think you guys are, you know, funny.”

- When Kyle walks over in the end, Stan proceeds to complain to him how he had the worst night and they both go to Kyle’s house to hang.

The China Probrem

- In the beginning, Stan telling Kyle to refute Cartman’s racist sayings and got overly concerned when Kyle said he couldn’t do this anymore.

- Stan going in Kyle’s room to talk about moving on from what they’ve witnessed.

- Stan holding Kyle’s hand to run away in Kyle’s dream. Kyle waking up and crying when Stan wasn’t around to comfort him.

- Stan and Kyle crying in each other’s arms and telling each other “I love you”.

- Small detail but when they were leaving the attorney’s office and the attorney and the kids were crying altogether, Stan put a hand on Kyle to comfort him as they were crying.

The Mystery of the Urinal Deuce:

- Stan appearing in Kyle’s living room suddenly.

- “Well dude, maybe we're just super badass. Have you thought of that?” Yeah I know Stan was trying to cover up what he just did by saying that but still.

Cartman Gets An Anal Probe:

- Stan helping Kyle save Ike.

- “Hahaha you farted.” WHAT GROSS DORKS

- Kyle telling a speech to the aliens and Stan remarking how beautiful it was.

A Very Crappy Christmas:

- Kyle calling Stan in the middle of the night to get the guys, and Stan answering all sleepily is so adorable.

- Stan and Kyle voice acting together.

- Stan and Kyle doing the stopmotion animation together.

- Stan and Kyle laughing when they had Stan voice act Cartman to say the “ham” line.

Fun With Veal:

- Kyle taking care of a sickly Stan despite being a bit of a germaphobe.

The Snuke:

- Stan coming over to a sick Kyle’s house immediately after school has been suspended.

Crack Baby Athletic Association:

- Stan not being afraid to call out on Kyle.

- Kyle snuck into Stan’s room and Stan was listening to him unfazed.

Quintuplets 2000:

- Them trying to do gymnastics.

Pee:

- Kyle getting disgusted after hearing Stan talk about how it’s normal for people to pee in pools and in the shower.

Butterballs:

- Kyle calling Stan out in the bathroom, and they have this long ass stare. Kyle knowing that Stan will be jackin it in San Diego.

Bike Parade:

- Stan making Kyle laugh.

Proper Condom Use

- Stan and Kyle playing with a Jennifer Lopez doll and roleplaying.

- “SCREAM FOR ME BITCH!” “AHHHHHHHHH”

- Stan and Kyle in the same car with their cute big heads protruding.

World War Zimmerman:

- Stan and Kyle playing football.

The Scoots:

- Once again, Stan and Kyle playing football.

City on the Edge of Forever:

- Stan saving Kyle in his dream.

- Stan and Kyle sitting a bit closer to each other than usual in Stan’s dream.

Grounded Vindaloop:

- The tetherball date.

- Stan and Kyle saying “fuck you” to Kenny.

Clubhouses:

- Stan reading Bebe’s note, and Kyle being unfazed about it later in the episode. It was never defined whether he was informed the note came from Bebe.

#REHASH:

- Stan and Kyle being called grandpas by the little kids.

Tegridy Farms:

- When one of Ike’s classmates blew smoke in front of Kyle, Stan got extremely defensive about it.

Raising the Bar:

- Stan informing Kyle that it isn’t cool to continue on with “Fatty Doo Doo”.

- Stan checking up on Kyle as he’s sitting alone and listening to him lament about how the bar has sunk so low because of people.

Go Fund Yourself:

- *looking at Kyle’s ass* Boy this is the life huh.

Truth and Advertising:

- Stan and Kyle fist fighting for real, and Tweek and Craig looking at them concerned since they rarely ever fight like this.

Conjoined Fetus Lady:

- Stan preparing to catch Kyle if ever he fails to catch the dodgeball.

Stanley’s Cup:

- THEIR YOUNGER SELVES PLAYING HOCKEY!

ManBearPig:

- Stan’s head on Kyle’s lap. It’s so beautifully rendered.

Board Girls:

- “Wow, you are really into board games.”

A Scause for Applause:

- Kyle confronts Stan about cutting the bracelet by saying Heidi Turner saw him with super glue.

The Death Camp of Tolerance:

- “KYLE! KYLE! YOU HAVE TO KEEP MAKING YOUR MACARONI PICTURES!!”

South Park Bigger, Longer and Uncut:

- Stan getting jealous that even Kyle is amazed at Gregory.

Cartman Join NAMBLA:

- Stan and Kyle putting their face against the glass.

Mr. Hankey’s Christmas Classics:

- Stan and Kyle making fun of Shelly behind her back.

Raisins:

- Kyle coming to visit Stan with the gang after the whole breakup.

- Kyle wanting Stan to be happy again by bringing him to Raisins.

- Kyle being annoyed over Stan being distraught over Wendy. Jealous?

Mr. Jefferson:

- When Stan hears a knock on his window, he assumes it’s Kyle.

- Stan and Kyle being good caretakers of Blanket.

- Stan and Kyle sleeping with Blanket.

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc V: Back into Hell (XII)

Chapter 12: Punishment Time

           When you’re older, one of the things you learn about punishments is that they’re never as bad as you think they’re gonna be. Don’t ask how little me thought there could be something in that office worse than Bob-Sardoth, but if you’ve been paying attention, you’d have realized my brain works a bit funky by now. Worst, though, was that I didn’t even give a crap. My body was a limp, freezing piece of spaghetti that had to be led along by Hoebag’s hand. Despite being back in my own body, I felt like more like a ghost than ever.

            I was surprised how little the office had changed. The desk now had a few severed heads on it (nobody I knew, thank goodness), but it was nothing a little spring cleaning couldn’t get fix (the odor was another story). 

Shatner was already in a seat, looking like he’d just punched his way out of the belly of a tiger (which he probably had). He glanced quietly at us as we shuffled into our chairs, Hoebag swiping the heads off the desk and onto the floor, where they bounced like a couple of baseballs. I noticed the expression on her face seemed oddly serene, like she’d just passed a big fart.

“All right, you three,” she began. If I didn’t notice something odd about her voice before, I certainly picked it up now. It seemed strangely… eternal, for lack of a better word. “I would just like to say…”

We lowered our heads in preparation for the mother of all verbal eviscerations. 

“I’m sorry.”

I rose my head all slow-like. As happy as I was to have survived an encounter with Hoebag unscathed, I knew I couldn’t exactly let my guard down, either. Our response would have to be chosen carefully, lest we get sentenced to the time out chair for the rest of the summer. And it wasn’t my first rodeo with this sort of thing, either. I’d narrowly avoided detention back at school more times than I could count. Mostly by promising Principal Farley my Mom would sue his butt into oblivion. But what were the odds that trick would work on Hoebag? I’m usually a do first, think later kind of guy, but for this, I was gonna have to think things through. 

Or Shatner could just blurt the first thing on his mind. 

“Are you BLOODY SEEIOUS?! We raised a demon! We got you possessed! We are all, at least in part,  accessories to COMMUNISM! And-and”

Tears kept him from going further, enough I’m suprised the porr guy didn’t melt into a puddle right then and there. Hilda, for her part, stared straight at Hoebag, saying nothing. 

Something heavy welled up in my chest. Something I thought only existed in nerds and T.V. Christmas specials.

Guilt.

Getting up from my seat, I hugged Shatner. Together, the two of us gushed out a regular monsoon of tears and snot, Hilda joining our huddle moments later. When we ran out of water in our bodies, Ms. Hoebag quietly ushered us back to our seats. 

“Calm down, you three. Now, I’m going to tell you a story, all right?”

We nodded weakly.

“Listen closely…

Long ago, there was a really, really mean demon who ruled this land named Bob-Sardoth. He gave everyone wedgies and invented oatmeal so nobody would ever be happy again. And he would have taken over the world, plunging mankind into a zillion years of darkness, if not for a few brave warriors who, useing an ancient ritual, sealed him in a fuzzy prison. After the feat, one of these warriors was chosen to be the guardian of said prison, a job he passed onto his children, who they then passed onto their children, and so forth. Time passed, the land became a summer camp, and after five hundred generations, the role of Bob Sardoth’s warden was given to me. But for the past fifteen years I thought it was a good idea to have the kids take care of Bob’s prison. To build character. I didn’t expect anyone would try actually try to release him!”

To be frank, Hoebag probably should have saved the story for another time. As it was, yours truly was five seconds away from collapsing from exhaustion. 

“So I apologize, you three. I put my responsibilities onto you and all my other charges, and something very bad happened an account of my negligence.”

It was a scene I’ll remember ‘til my dying days: the first time in my life when an adult apologized to me! Frankly, I figured I had a higher chance of getting that pet Lystrosaurus for Christmas.

Only for her to spew out something so sappy it made me want to barf on my already empty stomach.

“And what’s more, Watterson, you helped another kid find her inner goodness when no one else would!”

“Hilda?”

It hadn’t occurred to me what might be happening with her, seeing how her parent was sent to the Underworld and all. Did orphanages take custody of demon farts?

Hilda smiled at me ever so slightly. 

“What can I say? You helped me out when I was in a bad funk.”

Hoebag nodded. 

“Exactly! It might not have seemed like it, but when I was trapped in that demon, I was still conscious. It was Bob-Sardoth’s… sadistic way of running my mind through the wringer, so to speak. But what you kids need to know is, I saw everything. Including, Watterson how you were willing to risk your own life to help a friend in need! And for that, I’m very pleased to give you this sticker!”

Before I could so much as lift a finger, a big, round, scratch-n-sniff sticker of a smiling fruit was plastered to my chest. One that read ‘Orange you glad to be here?’ 

A wave of peaceful ecstasy passed through my body as the nicotine crept into my system. 

“So…if you’re responsible for getting your camp counselor possessed by a demon, resulting in the whole camp becoming a dictatorship, but you do something good for one person, that makes you a hero?”

Hoebag sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Kid, its’ been such a crazy summer I don’t even give a f*ck anymore.”

The three of us stared, jaws agape, now posessing the forbidden knowledge that Hoebag could and would drop the F-Bomb. 

By all means, that should have been it. A final note of hopefulness at the end of a crazy summer, the heros having triumphed over the evil they were partly responsible for. Shatner was dismissed back to his cabin, then Hilda. But I was stopped, not that I had the energy to go anywhere anyway. 

“Oh, Watterson! One last thing!”

The light feeling in my chest was replaced by the weight of my heart sinking into my belly. 

“Remember that time you wore your underpants in the pool?”

I nodded. One did not simply forget that sot of epic blunder.

“Well, the security cameras by the pool caught the whooollleeee thing, so guess who’s the star of our next Camp Blooper reel!”

The Camp Blooper Reel! I remembered reading about it in the brochure, back when Mom was crazy enough to think I might go to camp of my own free will. At the end of the summer, there would be this montage of all the ‘fun’ (I use the term loosely) memories we made to the backdrop of some crappy pop song. And the blooper reel was the part at the end where kids got humiliated for any misbehavior, to be immortalized in thousands DVD’s given out to every parent.

Hoebag smiled “You didn’t think I would let you off that easy, did you?”

If my life were a movie, this would be the part where I raise my head to the sky, and in the loudest voice, yell

“NOOOOOOO!”

 while the camera pans out to space.

                      Part V: Watt Outta Hell II: Back into Hell: End

                                                       .   .   .

And that’s a wrap! To all of you who’ve read this far, I want to say thank you for reading to the final arc of this story. This has been a passion project of mine for a long time, and I’m glad to be putting it out into the world, warts and all. However, sometime in July, I’ll be posting the epilogue, so stay tuned!

[joongie-smiles]

Note: i’ve had this idea brewing in my head and I absolutely love the Heathers Genderbend AU. I also included some things @raven-ink answered in an ask.

Warning: mentions of suicide, swearing, slight mentions of religion, angst, sad McNamara

Tags: @fandoms-ate-my-wallet

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Dear Mr. Self-Centered Bag of Dicks Hunter “I am Popular so I can be an Asshat” Chandler

    My life has been so much better worse with you out of it. Still I didn’t mean to kill you. I miss you. I hope you rot in hell are happy in heaven.

                            Bye Bitch With Love, Vincent Sawyer

Vincent Sawyer sighed and ripped the paper from his notebook and stuffed it in his bag where all the other reject letters ended up. Nobody paid much attention to the young boy, most too busy writing their sorry excuses for letters. Mr. Fleming decided that in order to let out grief in a healthy way, the students should write letters to the newly deceased Hunter Chandler. They could write whatever they wanted in the letters, but Mr. Fleming said it would be good to write about how they were feeling and how his death changed their lives. Mr. Fleming swore that once the letters were collected in a shoe box they would be burned on a mini pier; nobody would ever read them. So most people just opted for short notes consisting of ‘Sucks that you’re dead’ or ‘Karma's a Bitch’. The only ones who seemed to really put some thought in their letters were the remaining two Hunters, Rae Sweeney, Kate Kelly, Vincent Sawyer, and, surprisingly, Jaclyn Dean. What could she have been writing?

Nothing good, of course. Jaclyn Dean was not the kind of person who held up facades of normalcy and she certainly never changed herself to please others. So, she’d be damned if she was going to write some big, flowery letter to the red headed son of a bitch. Instead, she wrote exactly how she was feeling. That was what the hippie teacher wanted after all.

Dear Devil Incarnate,

    You know I never really believed the whole god thing but if there is one, then the old weezer must have hated you more than he hated me. He fucked you over big time and earned himself a brownie point. I didn’t know you for long, thank god, but none the less you successfully presented yourself as an ass. The worst asshole of them all. King Ass of the Assholes. No nevermind not king, that would bloat your ego too much, and we all know it’s too fuckin’ big as is. You’re more like a rat. Yeah, a stupid rat who fell for the trap and went off to hell. Too bad I’ll have to put up with you in hell. Oh well, keep the throne warm for me.

-JD

JD smirked, the letter was perfect. She leaned back in her desk and looked around, once more being hit by a wave of boredom. A loud sob caught her attention and she turned to look at who made the obnoxious noise. It was the two cheerleder bimbos, Kate and Rae. JD scoffed. Oh great, could they be anymore dramatic?

Yes, they could. Kate and Rae were clutching each other and sobbing loudly. They didn’t care that some some of her classmates were looking at them like they were crazy. The King of the school had just died, how could they not show their grief in an over dramatic and over the top way?! Kate and Rae wrote the letter together, passing the piece of paper back and forth in order to write their heart-felt and well thought out letter.

Our Dearest Hunter Chandler,

I We can’t believe you’re dead! We miss you so sosososo much and we wish we could have helped you. And we would have. We even would have missed cheer for you. Yeah totally. We just hope that you’re happy wherever you are.

Love, Kate and Rae

They drew little broken hearts on the edges of the paper and Kate hugged the letter. Rae quickly snatched the letter from her and smoothed out the wrinkles. They were proud of the short yet sweet letter and were convinced that no one else could write a better one. Well, maybe Hunter McNamara could. 

And he did. Well, he tried to. He tried to put his feelings on paper and convey all the bundled emotions churning inside of him. If only the tears would stop blurring his vision long enough to finish the letter.

Dear Hunter,

I know you didn’t really like it when we got sad and ‘soft on you’ but now I can’t really help it. And I know you would have laughed at and called Mr. Fleming’s idea stupid, but might as well do it, right? And I know I’m not as good of a writer as Vincent is but I’ll try my best. You’re one of my best friends and even though you didn’t show it very much or very well, I know that you cared about us. And we care about you. And I know it’s dumb to feel guilty but it’s hard not to, you know? You’ve always been there for me and you’ve always protected me from so many things  but I couldn’t even save you from . . . whatever it is that made hurt enough to . . .  And I know deep down it wasn’t my fault but I just can’t but think  about what ifs and look back at our texts and try to find something, anything that you might have said or done to try to reach out. Because I know you, and you wouldn’t have said anything directly but maybe I missed something, some subtle hint to show just how much you were hurting. And how could I not have noticed it? How could I not have noticed how much you were hurting? I mean, I talked to you at the party hours before. And I would have helped you, I would have . . . I would have moved the mountains to help you because I know how that feels. How it feels to feel worthless and small and scared and unnoticed. I never told anyone but I know how it feels. It might not have been the same kind of hurt but I would have helped you. I miss you so much and I promise to try to stay strong and I’ll remember you. I’ll try to stay strong for Hunter Duke and Vincent and you’re parents and everyone because if I couldn’t help you then at least I can help others.

Love, Hunter McNamara

He wiped away the stray tears that had fallen on his cheeks and carefully folded the letter. He knew that he was probably the only one who wrote such a long letter, but he didn't care. He turned to look at Hunter Duke, who was sitting next to him, and smiled gently at him. Hunter Duke responded with a tight-lipped smile that was obviously forced. He didn’t dwell on it though, because Hunter Duke must be hurting just as much as he was.

He wasn’t. The loss of Hunter Chandler was a shock to everyone and the suicide was grief-worthy, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be too sad. After all, Hunter Chandler hadn’t been, in his words, “Pope Francis”. Honestly, Hunter Duke didn’t want to write a letter, but as a Hunter he was expected to write one. So, being mindful of Hunter McNamara sitting next to him, he wrote.

Dear Hunter,

Your death is a shock to us all. You will not be forgotten, especially not after the big spectacle you caused with you suicide letter. Makes sense that you went out with a bang, you always were a dramatic son of a bitch (and I mean that with love, of course). Some people hope that you are going to hell now where you belong, but I don’t. I hope you go where you deserve to be, a place far far away from here and no longer in our lives. It’s a shame really that you won’t be here anymore. Poor Hunter McNamara is torn up and so am I, of course. But I will be strong for him and take over the position as head Hunter. Don’t worry about us, the school will be in good hands.

Sincerely, H. Duke

Good riddance, Chandler. Hunter Duke smiled when Hunter McNamara did and folded his letter. Without a word, he picked up his letter and McNamara’s and took them to Mr. Fleming’s desk and put them in the small box holding the other letters. One by one, everyone else did the same and when all the letters had been collected, they were thrown in the trash bin Mr. Fleming had dragged in the room. Then, Mr. Fleming lit a lighter and threw it in the bin. The letters caught on fire and started to burn. The students watched as their words, some well thought out and others absent mindedly scribbled on crumpled pieces of paper, faded and and turned to ash, just like the paper they were written on did. They watched with expressions varying from sadness and boredom as the paper turned to ash until their words had been reduced to unidentifiable sot. And yet, their words were still burned into their memory and those words paired with memories of Hunter Chandler clung onto them just like the smoke that clung to their clothes. And the memory of Hunter Chandler, like the smoke that stained their clothing, wouldn’t be washed away that easily.

A/N: Finally got that done with! I am honestly really proud of this and I hope you all will take this as an apology for my unexpected hiatus caused by school, finals, and work. But now I am done with the break and I am back and ready to write. Up next is a song fic request from Hunters AU Freeze Your Brain. As always requests are open and please sned me some feed back and tell me if you want to be tagged on something or just send me a dm to talk which I am always up to do. 

[romestatute]

Every End is a Beginning

Lessons Learned from The Final Week

Our final week in The Hague was a strange time. As we flew back from Italy, I had the feeling I was going home. I had to remind myself repeatedly that I did not actually live in the Netherlands, and would be leaving in only a week. As promised, that last week was far shorter than it had any right to be. The time we spent in the International Criminal Court still sticks with me though. In our last week we sat in on both the decision of the South Africa case, as well as part of the Ntaganda case. While interesting in their own right, both cases also caught my attention for how long they had already spent in the courts.

The South Africa case began in 2015, when Omar Al-Bashir visited South Africa. At the time there was (and still is) an outstanding warrant for his arrest in relation to the Darfur Refugee Crisis. South Africa, as a party to the ICC, was obligated to arrest Al-Bashir, and they did not. The case, essentially a matter of whether or not South Africa failed to meet their legal obligations, took two years to make it through the court. The Ntaganda case was also opened in 2015, in relationship to crimes allegedly committed between 2002 and 2003. At the time of our visit, some of these crimes were fifteen years past. While I knew it took time to prepare a case and acquire the accused for trial, I had never realised just how long it could actually take. When I stop to consider that it has taken two thirds of my lifespan to make it to the first round of defense hearings in the Ntaganda case, it makes fifteen years a much less abstract figure. In my final week in The Hague, I learned that the wheels of international justice grind slowly, and we can only hope, inexorably.

The Relevance to International Peace and Justice

An old adage says that justice delayed is justice denied. What sounds so simple on paper is much harder to apply to life. In this case, we’re forced to wrestle with what exactly it means for justice to be “delayed.” In an ideal world, criminals would be caught within days of their crime, sentenced shortly thereafter, and that would be the end of it. They wouldn’t find grounds for repeated appeals, and would emerge from prison rehabilitated to function in society. But, as Donald Rumsfeld notes, “...you go to war with the army you have, not the army you might want or wish to have at a later time.” In this case, the army in question are the various extant legal systems around the globe. The functional ones are backlogged, with accused waiting detained, sometimes for years, for their trial. Compared to the ideal world, this doesn’t seem speedy. But in the world we live in, it seems to be the best we can manage. The same can be said of the Ntaganda case. It may have started 13 years after the first of the crimes were allegedly committed, but it’s the best we can do with what we have. When you consider the logistical issues of arresting a man acting as a leader of a revolutionary army hiding in the bush, it seems reasonable to open a case over a decade after the alleged crimes were committed. In this sense, I’m inclined to agree that the ICC is doing it’s best to be speedy.

But there is another sense of the adage to consider. Justice does not merely concern punishing the guilty, but in providing closure and recompense to the victims. In this sense, modern judicial systems struggle. In my daily life, I often see news stories of people being cleared or convicted of charges related to high profile killings from years ago. There are usually links to old stories summarising the events at the time. When you need a summary of the original act, things are clearly running slowly. In these cases, the families often complain about the slow pace of justice. And this is in purely local crimes, where the accused are not hiding in the bush with a loyal and heavily armed militia. In cases such as Ntaganda’s, where the process of actually detaining him took years, this situation is only worsened. While the ICC does well as an instrument of justice in the sense of punishment, it functions poorly for the speedy redress of victims. This perhaps explains the perception of the victims of those prosecuted by the ICC that it does not care for the victims, but only seeks to impose its standards of justice on the world. In my opinion, it is essential for the ICC to do all it can to improve the speed with which it begins and concludes trials, for the sake of the victims. This would be a significant step forward in terms of legitimising the ICC in the eyes of the victims.

Reflections Post-Hague

Homecoming

In the penultimate segment of The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, Nyarlathotep explains to Randolph Carter that the city he dreams of, “... your gold and marble city of wonder is only the sum of what you have seen and loved in youth... this loveliness, moulded, crystallised, and polished by years of memory and dreaming, is your terraced wonder of elusive sunsets; and to find... [the] steps to the city of broad squares and prismatic fountains, you need only turn back to the thoughts and visions of your wistful boyhood.” I couldn’t shake the resonance I felt with these words as I boarded the plane in Schiphol airport. After three days in Iceland, spent dreaming of home, I finally touched down on US soil. North America, at last. As my train drew closer and closer to the Lansing, I felt like a hobbit who had traversed Middle Earth, and was finally returning to the well worn and deeply missed country of their birth. Prior to the trip, I had never really considered what home meant. But the process of returning left me with a deep appreciation for the value of home. It was much more than just the same house. Shifting back from all the little things I had to adapt to in Europe, different electrical outlets and a lack of ice cubes and all that, to the things I took for granted about life in the states, all reinforced the feeling of home. The process of re-acclimating to the states wasn’t a process at all. I dove back into my old routines, revisiting old haunts and habits that felt long abandoned. I knew I’d only been gone for a month and a half, but somehow it felt like years.  

A Personal Lesson

I’ll admit that I’m not the most social of people. Part of the challenge of studying abroad was transplanting myself from my existing social circles into totally new ones. While I’ll admit I didn’t do the best job, the contacts I made in The Hague convinced me of the merits of a little more socialising. Specifically, I’m thinking of the Peace Palace security guard who I befriended during the peace flag raising. I and some of the rest of the group ended up spending time outside of class hanging out with him, as he turned out to be a great guy. The same can be said for the bartender of our favorite hamburger establishment. I feel that I made friends with the two men while I was in The Hague, and I know that if I just bite the bullet and socialise I can make more friendships like that. 

And a Conceptual Lesson

During my time in The Hague, I heard about a great deal of interpersonal conflict between people and groups all nominally working for peace. From the conflict between Henry Dunant and Bertha Von Suttner regarding the best approach to peace to struggles within the Dutch Carnegie Foundation I saw people, all of whom were supposed to be working for peace, locked in conflict. Prior to this, I’d never had such a close up view of the daily struggles caused by different approaches to the same cause. At this point in my life, I’m not engaged with any cause to the degree of entering conflicts about the best way to pursue an end goal. But seeing it here gave me, if not a good idea what to expect, at least a rough outline of the ways such conflicts can occur. Not an immediately useful lesson, I have a feeling that as I grow older and debelope into some sot fo professional, I’ll look back and see echos of the conflicts I observed in this class in my day to day work.